“Word on Fire†is a program of Catholic evangelical preaching. It is evangelical in the measure that it proclaims Jesus Christ boldly in the hopes of bringing men and women to conversion and new life in Him. It is Catholic inasmuch as it utilizes the tremendous resources of the Roman Catholic tradition – art, architecture, poetry, philosophy, theology, and the lives of the saints – in order to explain and interpret the event of Jesus Christ. It is my hope that this radio outreach can draw people into the body of Christ, which is the Church, and thereby give them access to all the gifts that Jesus wants his people to enjoy.
Christ's kingship cannot be properly understood outside Israel's expectations for the Messiah. Jesus of Nazareth fulfills these expectations, yet in surprising and unexpected ways.
The scriptures for this Sunday represent a biblical genre called "apocalyptic", which means "unveiling" or "revelation." The extraordinary revelation of these particular scriptures is that in the death and resurrection of Jesus, the battle against the fallen powers of heaven and earth has been won and a new age has begun, the age of the Church.
Today's scriptures highlight two widows and two very important biblical principles: God reveals himself precisely at that moment of our greatest vulnerability and need, and that the grace in your life will increase in the measure that you give it away.
The magnificent diversity of the Saints indicates to us that we have been called to holiness. Holiness is about more than a kind of humanisn, but a deliberate and sincere discipline of life by which we imitate Christ and accept his presence in all the circumstances of our lives.
The story of Bartimeaus is a model of the spiritual journey. The desire for Christ engenders in us spiritual healing, which is delivered in a profound illumination of Christ's identity, the acceptance of which leads us into the Church.
This Sunday's readings highlight the idea of redemptive suffering. The revelation of Christ changes our disposition towards the difficulties of life, filling these experiences with the potential for goodness. In his Incarnation, Christ did not evade the often harsh realities of human experience, but he accepted them, knowing that he would be with us in all things. The challenge for us is that in the face of the inevitable challenges of life is this: will we accept hardship as an occasion to grow in holiness and deepen our relationship with the Lord.
Today's Gospel identifies the spiritual itinerary of discipleship, the movement from living out the Faith in accord with merely what is basic and the challenge of applying oneself to the demands of spiritual heroism. Christ does not let us remain comfortable with what amounts to only an adequate response to his call, he asks for more, and our relationship with him is expressed in our response.
Marriage is not just some secular act or social arrangement. Rather, it is brought about by God for God's purposes. Marriage is properly understood, first and foremost, as a theological act. The purpose and meaning of marriage is revealed in the mystery of God's own life (the Trinity) , in God's relationship to creation, and in Christ's relationship with the Church.
Our first reading from the Book of Numbers and the Gospel reading from Mark both highlight a very interesting spiritual predicament, one that is presented numerous times throughout the Bible. It might be summed up as the inclination for members of the Church to subvert the mission of the Church because of their own ego driven desires and pre-occupations.
The gesture of the Lord in today's Gospel calls to mind the spirituality of Saint Therese of Lisieux, whose "little way" is essentially a disposition of child-like trust in the Lord. This trust might be likened to the capacity of children to find profound joy in the simplest experiences of life. There are few better models to describe the soul's relationship with Christ than this "little way" of St. Therese.
Peter's magnificent confession of faith in the Lord Jesus illuminates, not only his divine identity, but it provides for us a great spiritual lesson in regards to how necessary it is to curtail the self striving of the ego in its need comfort and glory. In this regard, Christ invites, not only Peter, but all of us, into a new way of being in which negation of the ego and the practice of self denial enable us to grow in our capacity for love.
The healing of the deaf mute indicates not only a display of Christ's divine power to heal, but provides an image of how ideological secularism dulls our spiritual senses and inhibits our capacity to receive God's life and presence. Faith in Christ empowers us to become sensitive to the life and presence of God as he makes himself known in our lives and in the world.
One of the great tensions in the spiritual life is between loving the law and being free of the law. I argue in this homily that learning to swing a golf club is a very good analogy in this regard. Listen and find out why.
The Book of Joshua provokes us to consider one of the most important questions of the spiritual life- whom will you serve? Will it be the Lord or some other concern? Making something finite the ultimate concern of one's life is a grave spiritual predicament. Only is the Lord is ultimate and it is only when we recognize this truth that the other concerns of our life can be properly ordered and become spiritually fruitful.
The Book of Proverbs features a fascinating image of God's wisdom setting before humanity a sumptuous banquet. This is an image of the Church, who sets before the world the life and presence of Christ, a source of nourishment and renewal for the world. The wisdom of Christ is not merely a matter of mind, but a way of life that must be practiced if it is to be appreciated and understood.
The first reading for this Sunday is taken from the Old Testament Book of Kings. In this reading we are introduced to the Prophet Elijah, who is nearing the end of his mission. This particular scripture has much wisdom to share with us in regards to our own passage through the mid point of our lives and the necessity of remaining attentive to the Lord and open to his purposes.
Again, the Church's Gospel is taken from the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John. The principle concern of this Gospel is to provide testimony to the enduring presence of Christ in the Eucharist. This presence is foreshadowed in the mysterious "showbread' of the ancient temple of Israel. The promise that is symbolized in the "showbread" is fulfilled in the Eucharist. In the Eucharist, the Church partakes of the its own "showbread", though no longer merely a symbol, it is the "Bread of Life"- the life and presence of Christ.
The sixth chapter of John's Gospel, from which we will be reading these next several weeks, is a sustained meditation on the meaning of the Mass and the Eucharist. Our passage for today, when read symbolically, illumines the major movements of the Mass.
We should never seek our final security in the things that worldly rulers and kings can provide. It is only through the shepherding of Christ that we find our way to good pasture.
If you walk the path of the prophet, you will abandon your own "career" and learn to follow the promptings of the Spirit. Also, you will be opposed. Once you accept and internalize those two lessons, you are ready to be a bearer of God's word.
This week's scriptures illuminate the identity and mission of a prophet- a calling that belongs to all the baptized by virtue of our Baptism. God appoints the prophets to a specific mission. This mission is to speak God's word of truth. God's word of truth is not a private or personal opinion, but the Word of God communicated through human words. The prophet speaks God's word of truth to those within and those outside the Church. Prophets do not seek to proclaim a message that is easy to be accepted, but seek to speak God's word of truth, no matter how hard it might be to hear and accept. Christ is the paradigmatic example of the identity and mission of the prophet.
The Book of Wisdom offers us the strange assertion that God did not make death, but formed humanity to be imperishable. This revelation directs us towards the truth that death is much more than merely the dissolution of the body, but is the full impact of the power of sin over our lives. This power is especially evident in our fear of death. The dormition of the Mother of God offers us a sign that Christ has given to humanity a way, that takes us, not only beyond our fear of death, but beyond death itself. The way of Christ enables us to face the power of death with trust, rather than fear.
The story of Jesus calming the storm at sea is an archetypal description of the church down through the ages. We find ourselves in the midst of storms, but as long as Christ sails with us, we can find peace.
The Eucharist is the holy meal that God wants to share with his people. It is also the sacrifice that makes that meal possible in the midst of a fallen world. To understand the eucharist, we have to keep these two dimensions in mind.
The Trinity is not simply a theological connundrum for scholars to fuss about. It stands at the very heart of our faith, since it expresses the fact that God is love. Our whole salvation depends on this great truth.
The Ascension of the Lord empowers the Church to fulfill its messianic mission: to gather the nations of the world into a relationship with the God of Israel.
Today's Gospel present the distinction between a generic spirituality which emphasizes our decision for God, and authentic Christian Faith, which is the recognition that God has chosen us in Christ. It is God's choice, his election of us in Christ, as not only his followers, but his friends, that matters most
The image of the vine and the branches indicates that our relationship with Christ is greater than that of merely a teacher to his students. Instead, we are related to him on all levels of our existence because Christ is the eternal Logos through whom all things are made.
Jesus identifies himself with the figure prophesied long before by Ezekiel, the one who would definitively gather the scattered tribes of Israel. The good shepherd is the one who brings Israel together so that it might fulfill its mission of gathering the other nations of the world to the praise of Yahweh.
The readings for today effect a correlation between the resurrection of Jesus and conversion. The biblical word for conversion is "metanoia" which has the sense of "going beyond the mind that you have." What would it be like to move from a death-haunted consciousness to resurrection-haunted one? It would involve a conversion.
From the time of Marx, Feuerbach and Freud, we've heard the critique that religion is a wish-fulfilling fantasy, a game of "pie in the sky when you die." The readings for this second Sunday of Easter give the lie to this criticism, for they show how those who were convinced of Jesus' resurrection were also deeply commited to a more just society.
There are some debunkers of religion around today who want us to believe that the story of the resurrection is just another iteration of the myth of the dying and rising god that can be found in many ancient cultures. Nothing could be further from the truth. A careful reading of the Easter accounts shows that they have to do with a very particular, historical individual and with a very particular, unrepeatable event.
Life is grim. It is marked by conflict, division, inextricably difficult situations. And brooding over all of it is the fact of death. How do we deal with this mess? We can't, but God can. In Christ, he takes on the dysfunction and sin of the world and takes it away through the divine mercy. Walk through the Passion narrative with this idea in mind.
Jeremiah 31:31 is the great prophecy that the Lord will one day place his law within our hearts. In the Old Testament, God's law was written on stone and often appreciated as an imposition, a burden. But Jesus is the Law incarnate, the Torah made flesh. Therefore, when we eat his body and drink his blood, we take the law into our hearts, and thus we realize the prophecy of Jeremiah.
How do we know what's going on? How do we read the signs of the times? We could do so politically, sociologically, culturally, or economically. But the Bible insists that the world should be read theologically. What precisely is God doing and why? This sermon is about how to do this.
Scott Hahn refers to these famous laws as 'our declaration of dependence.' They teach us how to center our lives radically around God and his demands. They signal our total dependence upon the Lord. How wonderful that we meditate on them in the midst of Lent.
The story of the Aqedah, the Binding of Isaac, haunted the Israelite religious imagination. In it is contained one of the most important spiritual lessons in the Bible: everything we are and everything we have belongs, finally, to God. Knowing this is our liberation.
As Lent commences, we are given the great image of Noah's Ark. This story is not just a charming tale that we tell to the kids; in it is contained the whole message of salvation, if we but know how to decipher the symbolism.
Paul tells us that with Jesus Christ it was never yes and no, but only yes. This means that in Jesus all the promises made to Israel have come true. I will tell you why this great Yes of Jesus still matters for us.
In our Gospel for today, a leper comes to Jesus and asks to be healed. He is suffering, not only from a physical malady, but from ritual uncleanness, rendering him incapable of worship. Jesus the Messiah has come to gather the scattered tribes of Israel to the worship of the true God and so he reaches out to the leper. That same Christ seeks to gather so many of us who have wandered away from the worship of the true God.
Why would an all-powerful and all-loving God allow his people to suffer so much? That's one of the oldest and most difficult theological questions. Our first reading from Job and our Gospel from Mark provide some fascinating answers.
Moses promised that a prophet like himself would one day arise among the Israelites and that he would have the very authority of God. It is precisely this authority that Jesus claims. And this is why, in his regard, we have to make a choice.
We hear in today's Gospel Jesus' inaugural address. He tells us that the time of fulfillment is now. This means that the whole of Israelite history is summed up in his person. He is the new Temple, the true prophet, the everlasting covenant, and the definitive Torah. And this means that all people must make a decision about him.
The story of the call of Samuel is illuminating for our time of corruption and cleansing. I argue that the sex abuse scandal in the church should be read through the lens of this narrative.
The Gospel compels us to come to grips with the fascinating figure of John the Baptist. John was the son of Zechariah, a temple priest. And John, baptizing in the desert, acts as a priest, cleansing the people for entry into the new temple.
The feast of Epiphany gives us the occasion to reflect on a distinction that is much in vogue today between spirituality on the one hand and faith on the other. The Magi represent all that is good and true and beautiful in religious seeking. But they come to the tradition of Israel to find the right focus for their spiritual quest.
The Bible is not particularly sentimental about families. What makes a family holy, as far as the biblical writers are concerned, is its willingness to surrender to the purpose of God. We see this in a number of key figures, including Joseph, Anna, and Simeon.
The church fathers saw so clearly that we will never understand the New Testament without understanding the Old Testament. Our readings for this weekend show how the angel's words to Mary at the annunciation are intelligible only in light of God's promise made, ten centuries before, to David.
In our second reading from Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians, we hear the strange recommendation to pray always, rejoice in every circumstance, and give thanks at all times. How is this possible? Only when our lives have been radically reconfigured around Jesus Christ.
The theme of preparing a highway for the Lord emerges from the time of the exile. When the Babylonian captivity was coming to a close, the prophet Isaiah envisioned God making a highway in the desert to facilitate the return of his people to Jerusalem. From what captivity of ours is God leading us this Advent?
Our first reading for this first Sunday of Advent gives us the master image of God as the potter and we, his creatures, as clay. St. Irenaeus said that God's provident direction of our lives is easy as long as the clay of our hearts remains supple and moist. Trouble comes only when we allow the clay to harden.
Our readings for Christ the King focus on the shepherding function of the king. Jesus calls the tribes of Israel together--and he also separates the sheep from the goats. We would do well to attend to both of these dimensions of his shepherding work.
Your being increases in the measure that you give it away. That's the law of the gift, and it can be found from end to end of the Bible. One application of this law has to do with faith itself. Your faith will grow only in the measure that you give it away, sharing it with others.
We celebrate today the feast of the dedication of St. John Lateran, the Pope's cathedral church as bishop of Rome. This gives us the occasion to speak of the importance of all church buildings, images of the temple in Jerusalem.
Why do we speak of the "soul?" We do so because there is something in us that links us to the eternal. Though the body fades away, the core of the person does not. And therefore, we remain connected to those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith. We should pray for them in the hopes that one day we might live in communion with them.
Pope Benedict has said that the church has three basic jobs: to care for the poor, to evangelize, and to worship. These three are on clear display in our three readings for the weekend.
The Gospel for today raises the famously complex question of the relationship between "religion" and "politics." Though there is a legitimate distinction between the two, this can never turn into a separation. We should certainly render to Caesar what is Caesar's, but we must never forget that even Caesar belongs to God.
In both the prophet Isaiah and the Gospel of Matthew, we find the image of the vineyard as a symbol of Israel. As Jesus develops this image, we see both the glory and the tragedy of Israel-as well as the promise that the church will emerge as the bearer of the God of Israel to the nations.
One of the most powerful and enduring symbols of God's intention toward the world is the sacred banquet. God wants his life to flow into us and through us to one another. The result of this is life and life to the full. The question posed by the Gospel is this: when the invitation to this banquet comes, do we answer yes or no?
We will understand the power of this feast only when we grasp how very strange it is to speak of the cross as a triumph. Paul's great hymn in his letter to the Phillipians helps us to grasp how the cross fits into the narrative of God's salvation.
The Biblical manner of dealing with the problem of evil is neither to deny the fact of evil nor the fact of God's existence. Rather, it is to stress the transcendence and inscrutability of God's ways. What looks like pure evil or dumb suffering to us finds its place within the providential plan of a mysterious God.
Our second reading contains one of the most precious texts in the Christian tradition, Paul's description of the mind of Christ. While the old Adam clung to godliness and hence fell, the new Adam let go of his divinity and hence reversed the momentum of the fall. What does it mean to be conformed to God? It means to embrace the path of self-emptying love. Which Adam do we choose? The Old or the New?
The command to love compels us to engage in the difficult task of fraternal correction, but it enjoins us to do so carefully, always aware that it can slide easily enough into a game of ego-inflation. The Gospel gives us some very practical advice in this regard.
Most of the great religions and philosophies of the world center around the issue of suffering. Stoicism, Buddhism, Platonism all propose different paths to overcome suffering. Jesus proposes to his disciples the distinctively Christian path of embracing suffering in the act of self-sacrificial love.
Jesus tells Peter that he will build his ekklesia on the rock of Peter's confession. The word ekklesia means "called out from." To be a member of the church is to be called personally by Christ out of the world and into a new way of being.
The story of the persistent Canaanite woman has intrigued and puzzled Christians for two thousand years. Why would Jesus treat this pious woman with what seems like indifference, even hostility? Why does he refuse (it seems) to answer our own prayers? The solution can be found in the very Biblical category of testing.
Our readings for this weekend are filled with grace, the free gift that God is. Our relationship with God gets off on the wrong foot the moment we see it in an "economic" or calculating way. God, who needs nothing from us, simply wants to share his life with us. And this is why he says, through the prophet Isaiah, "All you who are thirsty, come to the water!"
The Church never tires of confessing the divinity of Jesus, for in that confession, the Church finds its whole identity. Over the centuries--and in the present day--many have tried to portray Jesus as no more than an inspired teacher. But the disciples who witnessed Christ walking on the water know better. They confess "truly, you are the Son of God."
God says to Solomon in our first reading, "Ask for anything, and I will give it to you." What would you say if you heard that invitation? Solomon asks for wisdom and not for wealth or power or victory. Find out why that answer is so pleasing to God.
Jesus' parables in today's Gospel tell us how and why the Kingdom of God emerges. It does so often through struggle, quietly and clandestinely, and through infiltration rather than direct confrontation.
We have the special privilege of hearing Jesus himself interpret one of his parables. He tells us the three basic reasons why the Word is not accepted into our hearts: lack of understanding, lack of discipline, and lack of prioritization.
The Gospel for today allows us to overhear a conversation between the Father and the Son. We learn that the Son receives everything from his Father, that he is, in a word, yoked to the Father. When the Lord tells us to take his yoke, he is inviting us to pull with him, receiving through him the life that he receives from the Father.
Peter and Paul were the greatest "christophers," Christ-bearers in the early days of the church. Though they were very different, they came together in their love for Jesus and their conviction that he was Lord. It is largely because of their witness that we gather still today in the name of Jesus.
In his letter to the Romans, Paul tells us that Jesus is the new Adam or the second Adam. He means that Christ sums up the history of Israel and renews the human race.
One of the key themes of the Bible is the divine election, the fact that God chooses. But God chooses, not on the basis of merit, but simply through and because of his grace. And he chooses, not to glorify those whom he elects, but rather to give them a mission of love. Accordingly, he chose Israel so that it might be a priestly nation; and he chose the twelve so that they might proclaim the kingdom, and he chose us the baptized that we might be conduits of his grace to the world.
Paul's letter to the Romans explores the great theme of justification, the process by which we become rectified or straightened out in regard to God. Key to this process, says Paul, is faith, that is to say, trust in the Lord. What has thrown us off-kilter is precisely a tendency to rely on our own powers. But when we, like Abraham our father in faith, learn to trust, then the divine life can flow into us and through us to the world.
What is the foundation of your life? How goes it with your heart? Are you building your spiritual house on sand or on rock? These are the fundamental questions that both the book of Deuteronomy and the Gospel of Matthew pose for us as we return to Ordinary Time.
In 1264, Pope Urban IV asked Thomas Aquinas to compose the office for the newly established feast of Corpus Christi. Thomas's texts are both beautiful and profound. By studying them, we can learn much of the Church's theology of the eucharist. He tells us that Christ serves us, with his own hands, the bread of angels.
There is no question more important than this one: who is God? The doctrine of the Trinity is the Christian answer to that question. The Trinity is simply a doctrinally exact way of stating the belief that God is love. If love is what God is, then in the very being of God there must be lover, beloved, and love.
The feast of Pentecost is the birthday of the church. Our readings show us the four major features of the church: it is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic. What do these four things mean? Listen to the sermon!
Jesus assures his disciples that, if they pray for it, the Holy Spirit will definitely come upon them with great power. At the same time, he reminds them that the presence of the Spirit always awakens opposition and persecution. So ask for the Holy Spirit, but be prepared to suffer on his account.
As Pentecost approaches, the church gives us readings redolent of the Holy Spirit. Our passages for this Sunday speak in various ways of the presence of the Holy Spirit: bold speech, signs and wonders, joy, intellectual curiosity, and love.
All the readings for today are, directly or indirectly, about the priesthood, that office that all of the baptized share. To be a priest is to be a mediator between God and human beings and to be a person who offers right praise. This identity should play itself out in all that you do.
Peter's sermon on Pentecost morning is the model for all evangelical proclamation. He declares that Jesus is both Lord and Messiah, and this straightforward, unambiguous confession leads to conversion on the part of the people. When our preaching about Jesus is wishy-washy, unclear, tentative, we shouldn't be surprised that no one listens.
The story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus teaches us how to see. When we listen to Christ explain the Scriptures to us, we understand the pattern of his life and death. And when we eat his body and drink his blood, we see precisely who he is: God's love made flesh."
Essential to the Easter message is mission: we are sent by the risen Jesus to do his work in the world. It is never enough that we contemplate his risen splendor; we must become his forgiveness-bearing presence to those around us.
Our first reading for this Easter day is Peter's great kerygmatic speech on Pentecost morning. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter addresses the Jerusalem crowd, telling them the impossibly good news that Jesus of Nazareth, a man who moved through their ordinary towns and villages, has been raised from the dead. The Easter faith of the Church is not an abstraction, not a vague claim about God's fidelity or our hope for immortality. Rather, it is the startling assertion that God has brought this man Jesus back from the dead. May we bask in the glow of this still surprising revelation.
Matthew shows us that, as Jesus resolutely does his Father's will, myriad forms of human dysfunction--betrayal, sloth, stupidity, violence, scapegoating, corruption--break out around him. This is the salvation story: God's compassionate embrace of sinners.
Jesus came to end the reign of death, to wrestle death to the ground. In the raising of Lazarus--which anticipates his own even more glorious resurrection--he fulfills the prophecy of Ezekiel.
On his way to Jerusalem, where he will be crucified, Jesus is transfigured before three of his disciples. This manifestation of glory, says Thomas Aquinas, was designed to encourage the disciples during the difficult days that would follow. It gives hope to us too. On the sometimes painful journey through this life, we see in the Transfiguration of the Lord a sign of what awaits us: a glorified life with God.
We are made for God, and therefore our hearts are restless until they rest in him. This longing is symbolized in the thirst of the woman at the well. Directing her away from all earthly goods, Jesus draws her to himself: "I will give you water springing up to eternal life." We hear the same invitation to the font of grace.
"For the first Sunday of Lent, the church brings us back to spiritual training camp and encourages us to review the basics. We are in the garden with Adam and Eve and in the desert with Jesus. When the devil approaches us, do we respond as they did, or as he did? Everything else will flow from that decision."
In the beatitudes, the Son of God tells us what every one of us, deep down, wants to know: how to be happy. So we must listen with great attentiveness. At the heart of the program is the beatitude: blessed are the merciful. This is because mercy is a participation in the divine life itself. All of the other beatitudes center around and relate to this one.
Our Gospel passage from the 4th chapter of Matthew's Gospel tells us, in very short compass, what the work of the Messiah was. Jesus proclaims the kingdom, commences the gathering of the tribes of Israel, and takes on God's enemies. We who are grafted on to him must do the same.
John the Baptist's designation of Jesus as Lamb of God is, I submit, largely misunderstood. It has little to do with Jesus' meekness, mildness, or humility and everything to do with his being the victim of a sacrifice. To find out why this is such good news, listen to the sermon!
The feast of the Baptism of the Lord is a celebration of God's great humility. In order to rescue us sinners, God the Son bent low and stood with us in the muck and mud of our dysfuction. This was so that he could draw us up to his glory.
"One of the truths that is manifested on Epiphany (that's what the word ""epiphania"" means) is the compatibility of faith and reason, of religion and science. The Magi were scientists, astronomers interested in tracking and measuring the heavenly bodies. But they also saw in the orderliness of the universe evidence of God. Their search for Christ symbolizes the fact that all of science leads finally to God."
Paul lays out for the Colossians (and us) the virtues that make a family healthy. They include compassion, patience, bearing the burden of the other and, above all, love. To find out precisely what these terms mean, listen to the sermon!
Both Ahaz and Joseph are being summoned out of a narrow perspective and encouraged to dream big, to think of their lives within the context of God's purposes and plans. This makes them prime Advent figures.
Hope is not this-worldly optimism. In fact, from a purely natural perspective, pessimism is the right attitude. Hope is that supernatural virtue which orders our desire toward heaven and the things of heaven. What Isaiah talks about in our first reading is not an expectation that will be realized here below, but only in a transfigured world on high.
John the Baptist sums up the Advent season. He lives in the desert, the place of no distraction, and he speaks a message of repentance and the confession of sin. Advent is a great time to clear away all that separates us from Christ. It is a time of repentance.
Advent is from the latin word adventus, which means coming or arrival. Some arrivals are positive; others are downright threatening. The Gospel for today paints a somewhat dark picture of the coming of the Son of Man, likening it to the flood of Noah. When Christ comes, we have to change, and that's often wrenching.
Along with Moses and Abraham, David is the most important figure in the Old Testament. The first Christians read Jesus in light of these heroes of the Old Testament.
Our readings for today are apocalyptic, which means that they describe the end of an old world and the beginning of a new one. The new world in question is the world of Christ's lordship. To enter into that spiritual space, we have to go through earthquake, famine, and war. But this is, finally good news!
"Both our first reading and Gospel for today present the distinctively Biblical view of what happens to us after we die. We do not so much escape from the body as begin to live in a transformed and transfigured body, what Paul calls a "spiritual body."
The story of Zacchaeus in the Gospel of Luke is a kind of spiritual itinerary. If we attend to it carefully, we will learn the essentials of the life of grace.
The second letter to Timothy is Paul's parting advice to his young colleague and spiritual son. He speaks of being poured out like a libation, of being ready for a great journey, of having fought the good fight and run the successful race. All of these images are illuminating for us as well.
An awful lot of people probably find our first reading for this week offensive. We hear that Israel mowed the Amalekites down with the sword. How can this terrible story of conquest be a revelation of God's intentions? Listen as I offer the surprising interpretation that Origen of Alexandria offers.
The story of Naaman the Syrian is not terribly well-known, but it contains some marvelous spiritual lessons for all of us. It tells us of the importance of patience, humility, perseverance, prayer--and above all following our weakness as it leads us to God.
The prophet Habbakuk expresses what most of us feel at some point in our lives: how can God be so indifferent to suffering? Listen carefully to the answer he receives from the Lord.
God does not love as we do, in a calculating manner. He makes his sun to shine on the good and the bad alike and his rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike. This means that he is like the Good Shepherd who seeks even the one sheep who is lost and like the father who welcomes back even the prodigal.
Jesus tells us that we must get rid of all of our possessions, including the people that we have turned into possessions. It is in this sense that he encourages us to "hate our mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters." In the measure that these nearest and dearest are possessions of one's ego, they are a block to salvation.
The lust for honor interrupts the great banquet that God wants us to enjoy. This is why Jesus interrupts the interruption in today's Gospel, urging people purposely to take the lowest place and to entertain only those who cannot repay the favor. We must free ourselves of the addiction to honor!
In his new book, Pope Benedict engages in a fascinating dialogue with the American rabbi Jacob Neusner on the identity and meaning of Jesus. In this sermon, I will tease out the implications of this debate, especially in regard to the vocation of Israel.
Jesus' words from our Gospel this week inspired the name for my program, Word on Fire. Jesus speaks of the divine judgment that will fall like a cleansing fire on the earth. This is not opposed to God's love, but is rather what God's love looks like to a fallen world.
Authentic faith has nothing to do with credulity or intellectual naivte. It has everything to do with placing one's trust in the God whom we cannot, even in principle, know with clarity. It is the willingness to follow the promptings of God, even when we don't see where they might lead.
Both our first reading and Gospel function as a slap in the face, cold water, a wake-up call. They show how passing, ephemeral, and unreliable are the goods of this world. The idea is to set our hearts, as Paul says, on the higher things, rooting our lives in God.
Our Gospel for this week is of the utmost importance, for we hear the Son of God himself teaching us to pray. In this homily, I walk rather carefully through the major petitions of the Our Father, noting how central this prayer is to Christian life and spirituality.
Paul says in our second reading that he "makes up in his own sufferings what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ." This means that Paul-and all of us-have the enormous privilege of participating in the act by which Christ saved the world, an act of suffering love. How do you interpret your own pain? Might it be a participation in the salvation of Christ?
What the church calls "the natural law" is, as Moses suggests in our first reading, close to us, in fact, written on our hearts. Thomas Aquinas said that this natural, moral law is a reflection of the eternal law of God and is, in turn, the ground for all of our positive laws. When the relationship between God's law, the moral law, and political law is lost, our society suffers.
St. Paul tells us in our second reading that he boasts in the cross of Jesus. To any of his hearers in the first century this would have sounded like madness. Paul can boast in this shameful thing precisely because God has raised Jesus from death and thereby placed the world-the realm of hatred, violence, and division-under judgment. Now we must have the courage to leave the world and enter into the new creation which is the body of Christ.
Our readings for this weekend are completely counter-cultural and counter-intuitive. We put a huge premium on freedom and self-determination in regard to choosing our careers. But this is not the Biblical perspective. Elisha accepts the mantle of prophecy, simply because God commands him, and he leaves everything behind. Jesus tells a man to follow him, even if that means not attending his own father's funeral. In the determination of the meaning of your life, what, or better who, finally matters?
Paul tells us that whenever we eat the body and drink the blood of the Lord, we proclaim his death until he comes. This means that the Eucharist involves a wonderful compression of time, past and future meeting dynamically in the present. When we gather around the Lord's table now, we call to mind the breakthrough moment of the Paschal Mystery and we anticipate the culminating moment of the end of time. In doing this, we charge the present with meaning and purpose.
This weekend, we celebrate the Trinity, a mystery which stands at the very heart of the faith. The doctrine of the Trinity is a technical way of stating what St. John said in his first letter, viz. that God is love. If God is love, then there must be within God a play of lover, beloved, and love. This is the relationality that obtains among the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
The two great symbols of the descent of the Holy Spirit are wind and tongues of fire. Wind is powerful, unpredictable, destructive, like the Spirit which seizes us and takes us where we would rather not go. Tongues of fire signal impassioned speech on behalf of the Good News, a willingness to announce the Gospel publicly and even in the face of opposition. With the whole church around the world, we pray on this great feast of Pentecost for the coming of that troublesome and wonderful Holy Spirit.
The feast of the Ascension is meant to awaken hope. In Jesus, risen from the dead and ascended to the right hand of the Father, our lowly human nature participates in the very life of God. In the light of the ascension, therefore, we are permitted to hope for a way of being, elevated and perfected beyond our imagining.
Last week we explored the central teaching of St. Paul: to live in Christ Jesus. This week, we draw out four implications from this teaching: the corporate nature of the church, a sacramental imagination, the gifts of the Spirit, and the acknowledgement of Jesus as Lord. In emphasizing these themes, Paul gave shape to the whole of Christian theology through the ages.
"Last week we looked at the life and times of Paul, the person who, after Jesus himself, is the most influential figure in the formation of the Christian church. In this week's sermon, I look briefly at Paul's central teaching, which I identify as "being in Christ."" The phrase ""en Christo,"" in Christ, appears 83 times in the letters of Paul, indicating how central it is to the Apostle's teaching and preaching. Christ Jesus is a new energy field, a new power, a new way of being, and the idea, as far as Paul is concerned, is to get into it--so that ultimately you can say, with him, "it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me"
"During the Easter season, we are reading from the book of the Acts of the Apostles. Though John, Philip, Peter, and James are all featured in Acts, the ""star"" of the text is clearly Paul, missionary and evangelist. Who was this extraordinarily important figure, the man that many say, after Jesus himself, was most influential on the development of Christianity? For the next three weeks, I will be exploring the life, thought, and work of Paul the Apostle."
In our second reading for this Sunday, St. Paul lays out his resum. In terms of the Judaism of his time, Paul was about as accomplished as one could hope to be: he was a defender of the tradition, steeped in the wisdom of his people, and blameless under the law. But after seeing Jesus risen from the dead, Paul said that he counted all of those achievements as loss and refuse. So we, he implies, should not base our lives on our accomplishments, degrees, social status--but rather on Christ crucified and risen.
Our Gospel for today, taken from the wonderful 21st chapter of St. John's Gospel, is filled with mystical and symbolic allusions. The disciples in the boat are evocative of the church; Jesus on the shore calls to mind the eschatological fulfillment toward which the church is journeying; Peter calls to mind both sinful Adam and the promise of redemption. In all of it, we see a picture of discipleship.
Despite the locked doors, the risen Jesus stands in the midst of the disciples. This is a beautiful icon of the Church, the community gathered around Jesus and filled with his spirit. When the Lord, first appears, Thomas is not there and hence does not believe. Only when he returns to the apostolic circle does he encounter Jesus and make his great confession. This detail reminds us that we see the risen Lord only in the church and through its mediation.
"Easter is the dawn of a new creation. St. John tells us that Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early on the morning of the first day of the week. This is meant to call to mind the first day of creation, when God said, ""Let there be light"" and brought order out of chaos. From the meaninglessness of death, God brings eternal life. This is the central and revolutionary message of Easter."
In St. Luke's account of the Passion, we see what real kingship looks like. Jesus gives his entire self away in love--and in that he is Lord. The supreme irony is the sign placed by Pontius Pilate over the cross: This is the King of the Jews. Real power is not a function of money, pleasure, domination, and self-aggrandizement. Real power is self-forgetting love
"Jesus' parable of the Prodigal Son is one of the most memorable, carefully crafted, and inspiring stories ever told. In some ways, the whole of the Christian "thing"" is summed up in this narrative. We have a God who invites us into the dynamism of his own life, and who relentlessly pursues us even when, in our stupidity and sin, we refuse to respond to the invitation."
Moses sees a bush that burns but is not consumed. This is a lovely symbolic expression of the way God relates to the world. The closer God gets, the more we become radiant with his presence. God's proximity does not mean our destruction or the compromising of our integrity; rather it is the means by which we become fully ourselves.
Abraham was chosen by God as the founder of a people who would be the means by which God would save the world. His great mark is faith, that is to say, trust. Faith is what Adam and Eve couldn't muster (they grasped at godliness) and from this followed the agony of the world. God commenced a rescue operation by setting Abraham in quest of a promised land.
As we once again commence the penitential season of Lent, it is good to get back to basics. We journey with Jesus into the desert, and with him, we confront the three basic temptations: sensual pleasure, power, and glory. Only when we set aside our obsessions with these three things can we be free to serve the Lord
The most troubling and challenging of Jesus' teaching is the command to love our enemies. In this homily, I explore four good reasons why it is so important to engage in this most difficult act of love.
"The readings for this weekend pose a blunt question: whom, finally, do you trust? ""Trust"" is meant here in an absolute sense. Where do you base your life? In God or in the things of this world? How you answer that question determines pretty much everything else."
The Church invites us to read together the stories of Isaiah's call and Peter's call. Both are addressed by the God of gracious surprises; both are shown marvellous things; both become more not less aware of their sins; and both are sent on mission. So it goes with all of us who are addressed by the living God.
"In the thirteenth chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul sings a hymn to love. He tells us that love is ""patient, gentle, kind, not snobbish"" and that it ""never fails."" Love, after all, is what God is: willing the good of the other as other. When we love, therefore, we are sharing in the very life of God."
Nehemiah, the 5th century governor of Judea, has an important spiritual lesson for us today. Nehemiah led the project of re-building the walls of Jerusalem after the return from exile. Walls, which set a community apart, are essential for identity and clarity of purpose. If the church is to be a world-transforming agent, it must, first, know clearly who she is and what makes her distinctive.
As we enter into ordinary time, we reflect with St. Paul on the ordinary task of the church: the discernment and exercise of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. How do we use the gifts of wisdom, knowledge, healing, and faith? That is the only question that
The visit of the Magi to the Christ child signals the universal significance of Jesus. At its best, Christ's church has always been a trans-national and trans-cultural force, overcoming the political and national divisions that so bedevil us. This is why the journey of the Magi is ground for hope.
There are family values in the Bible, but they might not be the ones you'd expect. The Biblical authors--both Old Testament and New--put a stress, not on sentiment and personal connection, but rather on mission. They see the family as a place where one's vocation from God is prioritized and cultivated. We see this theme on clear display in both the Hannah story and the account of the finding in the Temple.
On the final Sunday of Advent, the Church invites us to consider the inexhaustibly fascinating figure of Mary. The Mother of God is a figure of faithful Israel, the people who for so many centuries waited for the coming of the Messiah. She is, accordingly, the new Eve, the new Moses, the true Isaiah and Ezekiel. In meditating upon her, we come to a deeper appreciation of the Christ she bore.
"Our Gospel for today centers around a question that is bracing in its directness and simplicity. A group of people come to the Baptist and ask ""what should we do?"" The spiritual life is about a set of behaviors and practices, focused, as John the Baptist specifies, around the work of justice."
In our first reading for this week, we hear the prophet Baruch predicting the return of the children of Israel to Zion. God will level the mountains and fill in the valleys so as to make a highway for them. In the Gospel, John the Baptist announces a similar preparation for a similar return, but this time it is the return of Israel from the exile of sin and death, facilitated by the coming of the Messiah.
The readings for this first Sunday of Advent focus, not on the historical coming of Jesus at Bethlehem, but rather at his eschatological coming at the end of time. Knowing that all of history tends toward and culminates in Jesus changes radically the way we live now.
"In the confrontation between Pilate and Jesus we see, according to Benedict XVI, a clash of two visions of politics. Pilate, who cynically dismisses any claim to know the truth, allows Jesus' fate to be determined by the will of the majority. But Jesus reminds Pilate that his legitimate political authority comes to him, not from the people, but ""from above,"" that is to say, from certain moral values rooted in God."
For centuries, Biblical people have been puzzled/fascinated by apocalyptic language. Plagues, floods, earthquakes, the closing down of time itself: what does it mean? God is always, throughout the Scripture, in the business of cleansing and purifying a fallen world so as to make way for a new world. The ultimate apocalypse, therefore, is the dying and rising of Jesus. The cross and resurrection represent the end of an old world and the beginning of a new creation.
For the past several weeks, we have been reading from the extraordinary letter to the Hebrews, the principal theme of which is the priesthood of Jesus Christ. Jesus can be the ultimate bridge-builder between God and us, precisely because in his own person he reconciles divinity and humanity. True God and true man, Christ is true priest.
In our first reading, Jeremiah the prophet tells the Israelite people to rejoice because they are the chief of the nations. This would have struck his listeners as something of a joke. They had just returned from the Babylonian captivity, the worst calamity in Israelite history. How could they possibly be the chief of the nations? But Jeremiah is seeing with a prophet's eye, gazing toward that future which would be fulfilled in Jesus, the Messiah who would gather the new Israel (the church) and make it the light to the world.
"Our first reading for Mass this week contains the most sacred prayer in the Jewish tradition, the ""Sh'ma."" In the Gospel, when asked which commandment is the greatest, Jesus, a pious Jew, recites this prayer from the book of Deuteronomy. Listen as I explicate this central and decisive statement of Biblical faith."
James and John want to sit at Jesus' right and left when the Lord comes into his glory. What they don't realize is that his glory is the moment of his crucifixion. To be at his right and his left at his enthronement is, therefore, to be crucified with him, to be willing to give oneself totally away. Be careful what you ask for!
If an angel of the Lord stood before you and invited you to pray for one thing, what would it be? The book of Wisdom suggests today that you should pray, not for power or wealth or beauty or health, but for the wisdom that would enable you to use any and all of those gifts well. Let the first reading for this week be a sort of spiritual exercise for you.
Our readings for this week are all about marriage. In the Catholic understanding, a married couple do not so much receive a sacrament as they become a sacrament. They realize that their marriage is not about them; rather it is a vehicle through which God's purposes are being worked out.
Jesus certainly manages to get our attention in this week's Gospel. Don't literalize his language, but feel its power. Are you willing to eliminate certain things from your life--ways of grasping, ways of walking, ways of seeing--that are compromising your friendship with God? What, precisely, are you willing to sacrifice?
We have been reading for the past several weeks from the letter of James, which is a treasure-trove of practical wisdom. James tells us this week that outer conflicts flow from a war of passions within each individual. How do you find the inner peace that will conduce to outer peace? Listen to the sermon!
In this week's Gospel, Jesus heals a man who is deaf and dumb. When we read this account at the spiritual level, we see that he cures those who are deaf to the Word of God and hence unable to speak it clearly. How relevant this message is to our own time!
Whatever we reverence--baseball, good music, golf, the spiritual life--we are surrounded with laws. Law is meant to preserve and enhance the integrity of certain basic goods. But law also carries with it a shadow side, namely, a certain legalism and fussiness. Our readings for this weekend explore these various aspects--positive and negative--of religious law.
The Eucharist has been, from the beginning, a source of conflict and division. This is, of course, not Christ's will, for the eucharist is supposed to be the great unifier. Nevertheless, for the past two thousand years, the radical doctrine of the real presence has compelled some to rebel. Why is this? Take a listen.
"Our Gospel for this weekend is the climax of Jesus' Bread of Life Discourse from the sixth chapter of John's Gospel. Given every opportunity to offer a symbolic interpretation of his words concerning his body and blood, Jesus intensifies the realism of his statement: ""My flesh is real food; my blood is real drink."" All Catholics must wrestle, in season and out, with the implications of this claim."
"In our second reading for this weekend, St. Peter tells us that, in sharing the Christian story, he was not trading in ""cleverly concocted myths."" There is a sharp distinction to be drawn between myth and history, and it matters enormously that Christianity is not a mythic system, but an historical religion. This feast of the Transfiguration gives us the opportunity to reflect on this difference."
This weekend, we commence our careful reading of the remarkable sixth chapter of John's Gospel, the central theme of which is the eucharist. The sixth chapter opens with John's account of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. Every detail of this story is symbolically evocative of the liturgy, that great prayer in the context of which the eucharist is situated.
We continue our reading of Paul's extraordinary letter to the Ephesians. We hear that the cross of Jesus has broken down the wall of enmity which divided Jews and Gentiles. At the very center of Christianity is the conviction that the death of Jesus on the cross represented God's victory over all the dark forces that divide us. What looked like ultimate defeat was in fact God's triumph over the power of division.
For the next several weeks, we are going to be reading from Paul's magnificent letter to the Ephesians. In our passage for today, we learn that we are situated within the context of a great theodrama, written and directed by God, and designed to lead us to eternal life. The Biblical drama has five acts: creation, the fall, the formation of Israel, Jesus Christ, and the Church. We read the Scriptures in order to discern the contours of that drama and, more importantly, our place within it.
Every baptized person is conformed to Christ: King, Priest, and Prophet. Thus speaking the divine truth (prophecy) is not the concern of priests and bishops alone, but of all members of the church. From Ezekiel and Mark, we can discern a number of qualities of the prophetic office. First, the prophet does not speak his own word, but God's. Second, the prophet is given a difficult assignment. And third, the prophet is summoned, not to success, but faithfulness.
In order to understand the power of our Gospel reading for this week, we must attend to the book of Leviticus. In that great rule-book of Israelite life, we hear that contact with a hemorrhaging woman or with a corpse would result in ritual uncleanliness. When Jesus touches the hemorrhaging woman and the dead daughter of Jairus, he is not made unclean; in fact he makes them clean. In so doing, he redefines what it means to be a member of the true people of Israel.
"Psalm 130 begins with the words, ""out of the depths, I have cried to you, O Lord."" Throughout the great tradition, the prayer ""de profundis,"" (out of the depths) has been one of the most powerful expressions of our reliance upon God. When our lives have bottomed out, when we are lost and at the end of our strength, we turn to God. The cry of the apostles in the boat, as the waves crash over the side and threaten to drown them, is a New Testament example of this prayer. Do you need to pray it today?"
For this feast of the Body and Blood of the Lord, I reflect on the Mass as a sacrifice. Sacrificial language runs right through all of our readings for today, just as it runs through the whole of Israelite history. In Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, God's fidelity unto death finally meets a human obedience unto death--and in that meeting, the covenant is fully realized, and salvation is accomplished. The Mass is the re-presenting of that world-changing event.
On the feast of the Trinity, we reflect on the uniquely Christian definition of God: God is love. Love is not something that God does, or an attribute that God has; love is what God is. This means that God must be a play between lover, beloved, and love--between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
All the Jews in Jerusalem for the feast of Pentecost heard the disciples preaching in their own languages. This miracle of the Spirit is the reversal of the Tower of Babel, when God scattered the nations and confused their languages. The Holy Spirit is the solution to the spiritual problem of the one and the many. In God alone can the many come together fruitfully as one.
I don't like departing from the Scriptures in these homilies, but the appearance of the movie based upon the wildly popular novel The Da Vinci Code warrants a response. The central claim of the book--that Jesus is not divine--stands directly opposed to the central and defining claim of the Church. The Da Vinci Code argues that the divinity of Jesus was a fourth-century invention. Nothing could be further from the truth. This week and next, I will address this question and some others that arise from the Da Vinci Code.
This week I discuss two more themes that emerge in the Da Vinci Code: the Gnostic Gospels and anti-Catholicism. Much of the storyline of the Da Vinci Code flows from the controversial Gnostic tellings of the life of Jesus. These are, in fact, far less historically reliable than the canonical Gospels--not to mention less theologically sound. And the book as a whole should be classed in the genre of anti-Catholic screed. We shouldn't be hysterical about American anti-Catholicism, but we also shouldn't be naive about it. I promise that this is my last word about the Da Vinci Code! Next week we're back to the Scriptures
Jesus Christ is infintely more than a moral ideal, a saint whom we admire from afar. In accord with the image from the Gospel for today, he is the vine upon which we have been grafted like branches. This means that he is our life blood, the very energy of our existence. Therefore we should read our lives this way: Jesus Christ is living his life in us.
"Jesus sums up a long Biblical tradition when he says ""I am the good shepherd."" The prophets and the psalmist had yearned for a time when God himself would come to shepherd his people Israel. This yearning is realized in Jesus himself. What makes him good? The Gospel for today specifies two things: his willingness to lay down his life for his sheep, and the fact that he knows his sheep personally, recognizing their voices."
Luke paints a fascinating portrait of the risen Jesus in our Gospel for today. He stands in the midst of his disciples, gathering them as the new Israel; he shows them that he is densely, physically real, even going so far as to eat a piece of fish in their presence. Jesus is not a phantom or a dream or a disembodied ideal; he is a living person in whom we find peace.
"In John's Gospel, we often find parallels between the work of Jesus and the work of God described in the opening chapters of the book of Genesis. As God created the world; so Jesus recreates it. God said, ""Let there be light;"" and Jesus said, ""I am the light of the world."" In our Gospel for today, the risen Jesus is portrayed as the recreator of the world, the source of peace, the Lord of the Church."
Graves are usually places of peace, repose, and meditation. We sit by a gravesite or we stroll through a cemetery in order to reflect on lives well lived or on the mystery of death. But there is nothing peaceful or meditative about the grave of Jesus, and there never developed within the Christian tradition a cult of the tomb of the Lord. This is because this grave has been robbed--and by the most intriguing grave-robber of all: the living God.
The donkey upon which Jesus rides into Jerusalem is a wonderful image for discipleship. He is a simple, humble, unassuming creature--and he is pressed into service because the Master has need of him. We like to organize our lives according to our projects and plans, but the key is allowing ourselves to be used according to Christ's needs and purposes. The whole point is to become, like the humble Palm Sunday donkey, a Christopher, a Christ-bearer.
As long as the law remains external to us, it appears as a threat and a limitation. But when we internalize the law--as does a gifted pianist or golfer--it is a means of true liberation. When Christ comes to live his life in us, the law of God becomes bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh, closer to us than we are to ourselves. And this is none other than true freedom. The readings for this weekend give us this lovely Lenten message.
God sometimes expresses his anger at his people Israel. This is not an emotional snit into which God falls; rather, it is a way of expressing his passion to set things right. So God permits the destruction of the Temple and the carrying off of Israel into exile in order to purify and cleanse. When catastrophe befalls us, we should trust in the strange providence of God. God is always about the business of enhancing life.
"Over the centuries, spiritual masters in the Christian tradition have made a comparison between Jesus' cleansing of the temple and the Lord's cleansing of the soul of a sinner. You are meant to be a ""temple of the Holy Spirit,"" but many less than savory elements have found their way into that temple. Can you allow the Lord Jesus to turn a few things over in you, to clean out what needs to be purified? Very good questions for the Lenten season."
For a Jew of Jesus' time, Moses and Elijah would symbolize the Law and the Prophets, the two major divisions of the Scriptures. Jesus' conversation with them during the Transfiguration symbolizes something that is emphasized throughout the New Testament, namely, that Jesus fulfills, brings to completion, both the Law and the prophets. He fulfills the promise implicit in the Old Testament.
"Our readings for the first Sunday of Lent highlight the cosmic and universal nature of God's redemptive purpose. The covenant of Noah was made, not just with Noah and his family, but with ""all living things."" We see this universality on iconic display in the Gospel. Jesus goes into the desert and he is ""waited on by angels and accompanied by wild beasts."" Jesus' redemption affects all dimensions of creation, seen and unseen."
The new wine that Jesus speaks of is the Gospel itself, the Good News that God has joined our human condition. In order to take in such a message and to conform our lives to it, we must expand. If we remain in the narrow confines of the old self, we won't be able to handle the richness and fullness of the Gospel message. So change! Conform yourself to the love that Christ is. Become like new wineskins.
In the wonderful Gospel story for today, the paralytic gets to Jesus only because there are four friends willing to carry him to the Lord. Are there people around you--friends, co-workers, family-members--who are, for various reasons, paralyzed in regard to their relationship to Christ and the Church? And are you willing to carry them? That is the evangelical question that this Gospel poses.
In our second reading, St. Paul tells us to do everything--even such simple acts as eating and drinking--for the glory of God. We should make sure that the light shines, not on us, but on God. And here's the wonderful paradox: since God needs nothing, whatever we give to him comes back magnified to us. This is why the saints shine with a special radiance, a luminosity greater than anything they could have produced on their own.
St. Paul tells us in our second reading that preaching the Gospel is not a matter of choice for him; it is a compulsion, a necessity. In the homily for this week, I talk about St. Peter and St. Edmund Campion, two Christians who, 15 centuries apart, felt that same pressing obligation to proclaim Jesus Christ. Do we have it?
The familiar theme of detachment runs right through all three of our readings for this week. Paul tells the Corinthians who are married to carry on as though they were not married and those who buy and sell as though they were not buying and selling. The point is that one should orient one's life totally to the absolute good who is God. When that orientation takes place, everything else--from spouses to material goods--can be let go of, can be seen in proper spiritual perspective. This detachment is, I argue, the conversion that Jesus speaks of in his inaugural address, which is our Gospel for today.
"In our Gospel for today, John the Baptist points out Jesus to two of his disciples with the words, ""Behold the Lamb of God."" The central claim of the Gospels is that Jesus came to offer himself in sacrifice for our sins. This idea was given dramatic expression by two great twentieth-century Christian authors, J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. Jesus the Lamb of God is on display in both the Lord of the Rings and the Narnia Chronicles. When you watch the movies based upon those books, think of John the Baptist's word."
Jesus Christ is God's love made flesh, a gift to all the nations. As such, he transcends the disputes and squabbles that so often characterize the relationship between nations, cultures, and peoples. This boundary-transcending quality of Christ is expressed beautifully in the story of the journey of the Magi.
"There are three words that jump out at me from our Gospel reading for today's feast: ""haste,"" ""astonished"" and ""treasured."" Each one says something important about the spiritual life. When we know what God wants for us, we should act without hesitation; we should ""go in haste."" When God breaks into our natural world, we should be astonished. And then, like Mary, we should learn to treasure God's revelation in our minds and hearts."
"Recently, I read an interview with Bono, the lead singer of the group U2. Asked about his religious beliefs, he replied, ""I think that there is a love and a logic that lies behind the universe. So I believe in God. I also see, as an artist, the poetic appropriateness of that unspeakable power manifesting itself as a baby born in straw poverty. And that's why I'm a Christian."" My sermon for today is just an elaboration of Bono's wonderful Christmas sermon."
"For the fourth Sunday of Advent, the Church asks us to juxtapose stories of David and Mary. David decides that he wants to build a temple for the Lord, but God does not favor his plan; Mary hears what God wants to do through her, and she acquiesces. It is always a matter of following the promptings of the divine will and not our own desires, even when we are convinced that those desires are good and holy. Thomas Merton said, ""Lord, the fact that I think I'm following your will doesn't mean that I am in fact doing so..."" That acknowledgement takes great humility and spiritual perception."
Our first reading for this Sunday is an especially sacred one in the Christian tradition, for it was precisely this passage from Isaiah that Jesus chose to comment upon when he first rose to speak at the beginning of his public ministry. Using Isaiah's imagery, Jesus spells out for us the meaning and purpose of his work: to heal the brokenhearted, to declare liberty to captives, to announce a year of favor from the Lord.
"In the very first line of his Gospel, St. Mark tells us that he is going to share with us Good News, Glad Tidings, about Jesus, the Son of God. In many ways, the rest of the text is but a playing out of the implications of that statement. In this homily, I explore the meaning of the phrase ""Good News"" in connection with Jesus."
Lent is, of course, a penitential season, but Advent is as well. We get in touch with our sinfulness during Advent precisely because we want to prepare ourselves for the coming of a Savior. If there is nothing to be saved from, then there is no point in rejoicing at the arrival of Jesus the Lord. The prophet Isaiah offers us a number of powerful images for sin in our first reading for this Sunday. It behooves us, as an Advent spiritual exercise, to meditate on them.
"Peter Maurin, the co-founder of the Catholic Worker Movement, took Jesus' words in our Gospel for today with consummate seriousness. He felt that the corporal and spiritual works of mercy constituted a sort of socio-economic program. Following the exhortation of Jesus, Maurin wanted to create a society in which ""it is easier for men to be good."" His example is still a challenging and compelling one today."
"All of us believers have been entrusted with a treasure: our faith. What do we do with this treasure while we await the return of the Lord? We must make it grow, precisely by giving it away. We must evangelize. The very worst thing that we can do is to bury it away in the secrecy of our hearts, endeavoring to ""keep it safe."" Privatizing the faith is the key to losing it. A challenging message for all of us this week!"
How do we wait? That is the question addressed by Jesus' parable for today. While we wait for the second coming of the Lord, we should keep our lamps stocked with oil, that is to say, we should pray, study, love, do the works of mercy, and keep vigil. In so doing, we are ready for the arrival of the Bridegroom.
At its best, religion orients our lives to God and moves us away from the terrible preoccupation with our own egos. But at its worst, religion reinforces the ego and actually blocks our access to God. In his great polemic against the pharisees, Jesus warns us against this dysfunctional side of religious belief and practice.
"""You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind--and your neighbor as yourself."" This is the way that Jesus summed up the law and the prophets. Finally, it is a matter of love, and the love of God and neighbor are tightly intertwined. I try to illustrate this principle by telling the life of Rose Hawthorne, a woman who loved God precisely by loving some of the most ostracized people of her time."
"The Gospel for today raises the famously complex question of the relationship between ""religion"" and ""politics."" Though there is a legitimate distinction between the two, this can never turn into a separation. We should certainly render to Caesar what is Caesar's, but we must never forget that even Caesar belongs to God."
God the Father has prepared a wedding banquet for his Son, and we are all invited. That is the poetic summary of salvation that can be found in the parable that Jesus tells this week. The urgent point is this: we must respond to the invitation, and we must don the proper wedding garment. Failure to do one or the other means we miss the celebration.
"In this striking parable of the vineyard, Jesus lays out both God's vision for the world as well as his plan of redemption. The Lord wants us to be fully and dynamically alive, and to assure that this happens, he gives us his only Son as a redeemer. In the course of my homily this week, I try to ""decode"" this wonderful story."
"Our second reading, from Paul's letter to the Philippians, contains one of the oldest texts in the tradition, a ""hymn"" that Paul received and adapted for his purposes. It speaks of a fully divine Jesus who was, nevertheless, willing to empty himself utterly and become a slave on our behalf. All of the drama, poetry, and power of Christianity is contained in that paradox."
The parable that Jesus tells in our Gospel for today is one of his most disturbing and confounding. Giving the same wage to those who worked for one hour and those who labored the whole day just seems unjust. The story is meant to place a question in our minds: what exactly is divine justice and how does it differ from our conception of justice?
Our capacity to forgive others is tightly linked to our realization that we have been forgiven by God. When we try to justify an ethic of radical forgiveness on purely humanistic grounds, we will fail. But when we know in our bones that our sins have been eradicated through the cross of Christ, then we are able to forgive one another even seventy times seven times.
"Both our first reading from the prophet Ezekiel and our Gospel for today speak of fraternal correction, that is to say, our responsibility to warn our brothers and sisters if they are on a dangerous spiritual path. We have an instinctual reaction against this (""it's none of your business; who do you think you are?""), but the Bible enjoins us to do it, precisely because we are all members of one body."
Paul tells the Christians in Rome to offer their bodies as a living sacrifice of praise. I suggest that this Pauline image provides a very good context for thinking about the moral life. We want our bodies--our lives--to be pure offerings to the Father. We don't want to give the Lord lips that have spoken calumny, hands that have reached out in violence, feet that have walked away from the poor and needy. The moral life should be seen not primarily in a legal framework--but a liturgical one.
The authority of the Church--its rockiness and reliability--comes from neither popular nor aristocratic consensus. Rather, it comes from a charismatic gift offered to Peter and his successors. The people don't know who Jesus is and neither do the apostles as a group. Peter knows--through a gracious gift of the Father. And this is why the gates of hell shall not prevail against the Church.
The idea of testing faith is a common one in the Bible. Abraham's faith was tried on Mt. Moriah, as was Jacob's and Joseph's. The Gospel story of the Syro-Phoenician woman is a New Testament instance of this dynamic. Why is Jesus so resistant to the reasonable and loving request of the woman? He wants, not to frustrate her, but to bring out her faith in all of its breadth and depth.
Often in the Bible, water functions as a symbol of chaos and sin: the waters at the beginning of creation, the waters of the Red Sea, the waters of Noah's flood, etc. Just as the Spirit of God hovered over the abyss in the beginning, so the Son of God walks on the waves. This signals God's lordship over all of the forces of destruction that confront us. As long as we look to Jesus, we can walk on those same waters with him.
"It all begins with grace, and it all ends with grace. Bernanos' country priest summed up Christianity with the phrase ""Toute est grace,"" everything is grace. God gives graciously, gratuitously, superabundantly--and then we are called to respond with a similar exuberance. The more we give back to God, the more we get, and then we must give that back again, so as to get even more in return. This is the loop of grace which is spoken of from beginning to end of the Bible. And all of our readings for today touch on it specially."
"At the conclusion of chapter 13 of Matthew's Gospel, the chapter of parables, Jesus says, ""the scribe who is learned in the Kingdom of God is like the householder who brings forth from his storehouse both the old and the new."" The one who is wise in the ways of God escapes the ideologies of both left and right--the idolatry of both the new and the old. Focused on God alone, he is able to see the value in both novelty and tradition."
In our Gospel for today, we hear the parable of the wheat and the tares. Jesus speaks of the mysterious, and often frustrating, intertwining of good and evil. Don't be too eager, he says, to tear out the weeds, for you might, in the process, compromise the wheat. Listen, as I try to search out the meaning of this important and complex parable.
Our first reading, from the prophet Isaiah, shows that God's word is not so much descriptive as creative: it produces what it says. In the very intelligibility of the material world, we can sense this reality-producing power. We can also sense it in the Biblical word, an invitation into divine friendship. But we encounter it most powerfully in the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ. To what extent do we permit this reality-changing Word to take root in us? That is the challenge of our readings for today.
We hear in our first reading from the prophet Zechariah. This post-exilic figure is trying to reassure the people that their Messiah will come and will restore their fortunes. But then he specifies the nature and quality of this hero: he will enter Jerusalem, not on an Arabian charger, but on the foal of a donkey--and he will effectively disarm the nation, destroying horse and chariot! What could this possibly mean? No one really knew until a young rabbi, some five hundred years later, rode into Jerusalem on the foal of a donkey and mounted the victorious throne of a Roman cross.
"In our second reading for this week, St. Paul reminds the Christian community in Rome that baptism means an immersion into the dying of the Lord. In his first letter to the Corinthians, he had similarly told his followers that every eucharist is a participation in the dying of Christ. Why this preoccupation with death? Because it is only through this journey into Christ's death and resurrection that we can effectively conquer the fear of death, which tends to cramp us spiritually. Once we have died witih Jesus, we can walk ""in newness of life."""
"""Who or what are you most afraid of?"" is, I submit, a very important spiritual question. To answer it honestly is to know how and why your life is structured the way it is. The simple message of the the Gospel for this week is that one should fear, above all, the loss of friendship with God. More than the loss of money, health, power, the esteem of others, life itself, one should be afraid of losing intimacy with God. If that is truly your greatest fear, you are not far from the Kingdom of Heaven."
In our first reading from the book of Exodus, we hear the wonderful promise of God to Moses and his people that they would constitute a holy nation, a nation of priests. For the first Christians, this promise was fulfilled in Jesus and in the twelve apostles that he gathered round him. Peter, James, John, Thomas and their companions--with all of their faults--became the core of the renewed Israel. We the baptized are, in turn, their spiritual decendants, and we have, accordingly, the same purpose: to bring the whole human race into friendship with God.
Our Gospel for this week is a literary and theological masterpiece. It subtly yet powerfully tells the story of the conversion of Matthew from tax collector to disciple. The call, the response, the rising up to a new form of existence, the radical re-creation of a human being, the primacy of grace, the introduction into a life of celebration: all of it is on display. Enter into this story, for it is yours.
On this feast of Corpus Christi, I would like to reflect on the sacred liturgy, the central prayer of the Church. According to Msgr. Francis Mannion, good liturgy is the result of a balanced play between priest, people, and rite. When the first becomes exaggerated, we find the clerical abuse of the liturgy; when the second is overstressed, we encounter the congregationalist abuse; and when the third is exaggerated, we have the ritualistic problem. What counts is the balance!
In my course on the Trinity here at the seminary, I have, for many years, been using Joseph Ratzinger's book Introduction to Christianity. In the pages of that text, our new pope presents the Trinity in terms of three theses: God's transcendence of the unity/diversity polarity; God's radical personhood; and the metaphysical primacy of relationality. In this sermon for Trinity Sunday, I will spell out briefly the meaning of each of these assertions.
On this great feast of Pentecost, we reflect on the charismatic gifts of the Holy Spirit. God's Spirit has given to each baptized person some gift for the upbuilding of the church. When one finds that gift, he should center his entire life around it. There are three paths to the discernment of one's charismatic gift: prayer, listening to the church, and the stirring of the acorn. To find out what that last one means, listen to the sermon!
This week I continue my exploration of the life, career, and work of our new Pope, Joseph Ratzinger. In the years after the council, a split occured in the ranks of the Conciliar progressives, some calling for deeper and broader reform and others calling for a more careful appropriation of Vatican II. Joseph Ratzinger, along with Henri de Lubac, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and Karol Wojtyla, belonged to this latter group. The commonality between Ratzinger and Wojtyla led to John Paul II's choice of Ratzinger as his Prefect for the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith.
"This week and next, I reflect on the life and work of Joseph Ratzinger, the man who now leads the church as Pope Benedict XVI. Ratzinger was strongly shaped by his Bavarian Catholicism, by his struggle against Nazism, and by the ""nouvelle theologie,"" the new theology inaugurated by Henri de Lubac and others. This set of influences made him a unique and powerful voice at the Second Vatican Council. More on his post-conciliar career next week."
St. Peter tells us in our second reading that all of us--all the baptized--constitute a royal priesthood. This means that we perform sacrifices, acts which reconcile divinity and humanity. The entire life of a disciple should be a sustained act of bringing people to God and God to people. We are bridge-builders, reconcilers, royal priests
"We hear this week from the Apostle Peter, speaking to the Christian community about redemptive suffering. This is the suffering that comes from doing what is right, even in the face of opposition. What it accomplishes is redemption, that is to say, ""buying back"" for God the one who perpetrates the injustice. No one in our own American tradition understood this principle--and put it into practice--more thoroughly than Martin Luther King."
The story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus is one of the best-loved in the Biblical tradition. It speaks to us of the manner in which we come to see the risen Jesus. When we look through the lenses of the Biblical revelation and the Eucharistic mystery, Jesus comes into clear focus. This, of course, is the structure of the Mass, with its liturgy of the Word and liturgy of the Eucharist.
The late great John Paul II understood this dynamic in his bones--which is why he travelled so widely to speak the word and make present the Eucharist.
"So many of us skeptical moderns--intellectual heirs of Descartes-- identify with doubting Thomas. We too struggle with faith, ask tough questions, want proof. And to some degree, this is praiseworthy. But the trouble with systematic and persistent doubt is that it precludes the possibility of love, for love is always a surrender. ""How blessed are those who have not seen and have yet believed,"" because they have allowed themselves to fall in love with Jesus Christ."
Our first reading for this Easter day is Peter's great kerygmatic speech on Pentecost morning. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter addresses the Jerusalem crowd, telling them the impossibly good news that Jesus of Nazareth, a man who moved through their ordinary towns and villages, has been raised from the dead. The Easter faith of the Church is not an abstraction, not a vague claim about God's fidelity or our hope for immortality. Rather, it is the startling assertion that God has brought this man Jesus back from the dead. May we bask in the glow of this still surprising revelation.
Every Palm Sunday, we hear the passion narrative from one of the synoptic Gospels. This year, we are immersed in Matthew's version. Matthew shows us that, as Jesus resolutely does the will of his Father, myriad forms of human dysfunction--betrayal, sloth, stupidity, violence, scapegoating, corruption, cruelty--break out around him. This is the story of salvation: God's healing confrontation with sin; God's compassionate embrace of the sinner.
"Our God hates death. Through the prophet Ezekiel, he said, ""I will open your graves and have you rise from them."" Jesus came to end the reign of death, to wrestle death to the ground. In the raising of Lazarus--which anticipates his own even more glorious resurrection--he fulfills the prophecy of Ezekiel, calling the dead man from his grave."
Blindness is a great Biblical symbol of spiritual blindness, the darkening and distortion of our vision. Jesus salves and washes the blind man in John's Gospel in order to restore his sight. In the same way, he washes us (in Baptism) and salves us (in the other sacraments) so that we might see with his eyes.
"We are made for God, and therefore our hearts are restless until they rest in him. This longing is symbolized in the thirst of the woman at the well. Directing her away from all earthly goods, Jesus draws her to himself: ""I will give you water springing up to eternal life."" We hear the same invitation to the font of grace."
On his way to Jerusalem, where he will be crucified, Jesus is transfigured before three of his disciples. This manifestation of glory, says Thomas Aquinas, was designed to encourage the disciples during the difficult days that would follow. It gives hope to us too. On the sometimes painful journey through this life, we see in the Transfiguration of the Lord a sign of what awaits us: a glorified life with God.
On this first Sunday of Lent, the Church asks us to get back to the spiritual basics. We are compelled to consider once again the story of the Fall. God wants us to be fully alive, but fullness of life comes ultimately only as a gift of grace and not an accomplishment of the will. When Adam and Eve grasped at godliness, they violated the law of the gift: your being increases in the measure that you give it away.
This sin is reversed in the Gospel story of the temptation. Jesus consistently resists the devil's suggestions and makes the Father's will the center of his concerns. In Jesus' resistance, the momentum of Eden is reversed.
The purpose of the Church is essentially extraverted. It exists for the sake of sanctifying the world. Thus Jesus tells his followers to be light for the world--that which illumines and clarifies the deepest truth of things--and salt for the earth--that which preserves, spices up and frees what is best in creation. We are most fully ourselves when we are a beacon for everyone else.
"In the great opening verses of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus lays out, in short order, his ethical and spiritual program. It turns all of our customary expectations and prejudices upside down. To be ""happy,"" fulfilled, we must empty the self, become meek, learn how to sorrow, hunger not for egotistic satisfaction but for justice, work for peace, and become the objects of persecution. Strange, puzzling, unnerving, counter-intuitive--and the key to joy."
Our Gospel passage for today, taken from the 4th chapter of Matthew's Gospel, recounts the story of the call of the first disciples. When they encounter Jesus, the Capharnaum fishermen drop everything and follow him. This represents the compelling nature of Jesus' call: nothing is more important than conforming oneself to the Word made flesh.
"Cultural commentator Robert Bellah has characterized the typical American approach to religion as individualistic and driven by the desire for personal fulfillment. But this type of religiosity is inimical to the Biblical vision. Just listen to the opening line of our reading from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians: ""Paul, called by God's will to be an apostle of Christ Jesus."" Paul is not actualizing his own agenda, but rather utterly turning himself over to the higher authority who has called him, claimed him, and sent him.
"John the Baptist, the last and greatest of the prophets, correctly discerns that Jesus is the Son of God, but what he finds disconcerting is that this God-man comes to him for baptism: ""I should rather be baptized by you."" This reversal--still stunning 2000 years later--is indicative of the Incarnation's purpose: God's desire to enter into the state and condition of the sinner out of love."
"We see in the visit of the Magi to the Christ child the first hint of the internationalism of Christianity. Precisely because Jesus is the Word made flesh, the very personal presence of God, he speaks to all nations and all peoples. The Christian message is meant to overcome all of the petty divisions that characterize the human race: ""In Christ there is no Jew or Greek, no slave or free, no man or woman."""
The words of Thomas Jefferson defined our nation; the words of Abraham Lincoln strengthened its resolve at a time of unprecedented crisis; the words of Martin Luther King effected a moral revolution; the words of Winston Churchill turned back an evil empire. Words--even puny human words--pack enormous power. Imagine the power of God's Word, made flesh in Jesus Christ. It unleashed a force that, 2000 years later, continues to change the world. Christmas is the day when we celebrate that power.
"The fourth and final Isaian image for this Advent season is the most powerful and the most mysterious: the virgin shall be with child. Never underestimate what God can do. As the angel said to Mary, ""nothing is impossible with God."" Even from our emptiness, God can bring forth salvation."
The third Sunday of Advent is traditionally called Gaudete Sunday, Rejoice! Sunday. God is a community of joy and the purpose of creation and redemption is to share that joy. Everything in Christian life--from law and ritual to doctrine and moral praxis--is meant to lead us into deeper joy
We have another great image from the prophet Isaiah this weekend: the blooming desert. So many of the Biblical heroes--Abraham, Moses, John the Baptist, Paul, Jesus himself--have to pass through the desert before they undertake their missions. It is only through this period of dryness, austerity, simplification, and spiritual prioritization that the blossoming of grace comes. Good Advent lesson for us.
In the eleventh chapter of the book of the prophet Isaiah, we find a description of the gifts of the Holy Spirit with which the Messiah will be embued. They include wisdom, understanding, knowledge, counsel, fear of the Lord, piety, and fortitude. The good news is that these gifts are given to all of the baptized, all those who participate in the Messiahship of Jesus Christ. What precisely are these gifts and what difference do they make in our lives? Listen in order to find out.
"Our Gospel for this Sunday opens with Jesus' disciples admiring the splendor of the Temple, the most beautiful, important, and impressive building they had ever seen. And Jesus, as is his wont, pulls the rug out from under them: ""Not one stone of this temple will be left upon another, but it will all be torn down!"" The Gospel emphasizes over and again that nothing in this world lasts, nothing here below is ultimate. Therefore we shouldn't spend our time and energy gawking at the glories of this world; rather we should see and act in the light of a glory to come."
"The Advent season commences with a magnificent reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah. The prophet dreams of a holy mountain to which all the nations will stream and on which the worship of God is paramount. This is the articulation of an eschatological hope: when God is given glory in the highest, human affairs tend to fall into harmony, and we can ""beat our swords into plowshares."""
Our first reading for Mass this Sunday is taken from the opening chapter of Paul's letter to the Colossians. There is no stronger statement of the absolute primacy, centrality, and importance of Jesus Christ in the entire New Testament. Jesus, Paul tells us, is the beginning and the end, the icon of the invisible God, the one in whom all things exist and for whom they are destined. And then the Gospel shows us this cosmic King nailed to the cross. This wonderful irony is at the heart of the Christian proclamation: the King of the Universe is a crucified criminal, who utterly spends himself in love.
There are celibates in the church because of what Jesus said in our Gospel for today. In the world to come, the Savior specified, people will not marry or be given in marriage but will rather be like angels, experiencing a communion so intense and complete that even the richest communion here below will be as nothing. It is according to God's providence, therefore, that there be certain people who, even now, live in accord with that eschatological hope. This is why the celibacy of priests and religious is a gift for the whole people of God.
"The story of Zacchaeus is an icon of the spiritual life. Even the worst of us have, deep down, a hunger for God and a desire to see Jesus. When we follow the promptings of that desire, wonderful things can happen. Of course, when Jesus enters our lives, he means business: ""I am coming to stay at your house this day,"" he says to Zacchaeus. Christ will not be a peripheral interest, one value among many. Once we invite him in, he will be the Lord of our lives."
The Irish writer Iris Murdoch said that human beings are naturally self-absorbed and that what we need, consequently, are spiritual exercises that break us out of the narrow confines of our egos. Learning a foreign language can be such an exercise, as can a confrontation with real beauty. Authentic prayer--the kind exemplified in the humble petition of the Publican--also serves this purpose.
"Our Gospel for this week ends with one of the most haunting lines in the New Testament. Jesus says, ""when the Son of man returns, will he find faith on the earth?"" The Christian faith has faded away, even in lands where it was once vibrant: Egypt, Turkey, North Africa, etc. Will it endure in Western Europe, in our country? The cultivation of the faith is obviously God's work first, but it is also ours. What are we doing to make sure that the Christian Gospel is successfully passed on to the next generation?"
This week we once more hear from Paul's second letter to Timothy. He writes to his young friend from prison, chained in place by the Roman authorities. But he boldly tells Timothy that there is no chaining the Word of God. This confidence in the power of God's word is shared by all of the great saints up and down the centuries. John Paul II had it when he preached in his native Poland in the 1980's, effectively unchaining an oppressed people.
"We hear this week from St. Paul's second letter to Timothy. Paul, the old warrior, is passing on to his young disciple words of advice and encouragement. He tells Timothy that he has received ""no cowardly spirit,"" but rather a spirit of boldness and confidence. Throughout the ages, in the saints and the martyrs, we have seen evidence of this courageous spirit that comes from the risen Christ. Did you know that the 20th century had more Christian martyrs than any other century? We can all still benefit from Paul's words."
We hear from the prophet Amos in our first reading for this Sunday. Amos stands at the very beginning of the great prophetic tradition of social justice. He sees that the very heart of the law is our collective concern for the orphan, the widow, the stranger, and the needy. This emphasis is continued in the writings of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, and it comes to particularly rich expression in the words of Jesus the prophet. We must listen with attention to Amos and allow ourselves to be deeply challenged by him.
Our Gospel for this week contains one of Jesus' most surprising and comical parables, the story of the unjust steward. Jesus finds something to praise in the man who is resourceful (and ruthless) enough to fend for himself when his whole world collapses. The lesson is clear: we disciples should be just as attentive, intelligent, and decisive when it comes to spiritual matters. We should see our relationship with God clearly, assess our spiritual health honestly, and act to set our lives in right order.
"The God of the Bible is infinitely demanding and infinitely merciful. Jesus said, ""Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect,"" and he taught us to think of that Father as a good shepherd willing to lay down his life for his sheep. Our spiritual lives get off the rails when we exclusively emphasize one or the other of these dimensions. God hates sin--but he relentlessly, passionately runs after us sinners, eager to draw us back into friendship with him."
"The world of grasping, competition, violence, and egotism is the ""real"" world, right? And if I were to suggest that we can live in radical non-violence, love, compassion, and forgiveness, you would probably suggest that I am a utopian dreamer. But what Jesus shows is precisely the illusory, phony quality of the supposedly ""real"" world that we inhabit, and what he calls for is an immersion in the new universe that he calls ""the Kingdom of God."" His strategy: spiritual shock therapy. ""Hate your mother and father, your children, your wife, your very self,"" he says to the uncomprehending crowds--and to us. His purpose is to shake us out of our complacency and into a whole new way of thinking, acting, and being."
"Our second reading this week is from the 11th chapter of the letter to the Hebrews, and it concerns that central virtue of the Christian life: faith. To believe is not to be naive, superstitious, or uncritical. It is not opposed to reason. Rather, it is a reasonable leap into the darkness of that which transcends what we can know and control. As such, it is analogous to the ""leaps"" made by a man about to marry, by a scientist embarking on an experiment the result of which he does not precisely know, by an adventurer about to embark on his journey of exploration."
For Catholics, Mary is like the moon, for her light is always a reflected light. Whatever we say about Mary is meant to draw attention, not so much to her, but to Christ. Thus, for example, the claim that Mary is the mother of God is an indirect way of affirming the facticity of the Incarnation. Our feast for today--the Assumption of the Virgin--is similarly Christological in focus. It is meant to highlight the reality of Jesus' bodily resurrection from the dead. As the first and greatest disciple of the Lord, the Virgin Mary shares in the effects of this event, participating body and soul in the new life opened up by Jesus.
Some people organize their lives around the love of money; others do so around the love of pleasure or power. Still others make honor--the esteem of others--the central value. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus criticizes all of these false gods, and in today's passage, he focuses on this last problem. The key, he suggests, is to order one's life so that winning the esteem of God is all that finally matters. Why play to the fickle, unreliable crowd? In all of your thoughts, words and actions, play to the divine audience--and you will find liberation and joy.
In the years following the Second Vatican Council, we became very hesitant ever to invoke the category of the divine punishment. Yet, this motif can be found throughout the Bible, both Old Testament and New. How do we properly understand it? Our second reading from Mass, taken from the letter to the Hebrews, gives us some important guidance. It places God's punishment in the context of love and discipline. God punishes us, not capriciously and arbitrarily, but out of a desire to bring us to deeper life, much as a parent will, from time to time, punish a child. I'm eager to hear your reaction to these reflections on a tricky but important theme in Biblical theology.
"Our first reading for this Sunday is taken from the wonderful book of Ecclesiastes. This Biblical text is made up of the cranky reflections of Qoheleth, an old man who has seen it all and done it all--and finds all of it ""vanity and a chase after wind."" Why do we attend to his rather sardonic meditations? We do so because it is altogether salutary to be reminded that our ultimate joy is found in none of the goods of this world. So sit down with Qoheleth, pretend he's your curmudgeonly but loveable grandfather, and listen."
"The Bible speaks often of prayer, that intimate communion and conversation with God. Our readings for this Sunday present, if I can put it this way, the rules of prayer. First, we must pray with faith and confidence; secondly, our prayer must be accompanied by forgiveness; thirdly, we must pray with persistence, and finally, we must pray in the name of Jesus the Lord. Why does our prayer not ""work?"" Perhaps it's because we are not following the rules."
"Both our first reading and Gospel for this week speak of the importance of keeping our attention riveted on God. The three angels visit Abraham, and he drops everything in order to receive them with hospitality; Jesus comes to her home, and Mary sits at his feet, listening to his words. When God is the absolute priority in our lives, everything else that we are worried about about falls into place. Augustine said, ""love God and do what you want."" This implies that once God is the unambiguous center of our lives, we can confidently arrange and respond to all of our particular concerns."
The story of the Good Samaritan is not merely a morality tale, an account of the kind of life we should lead. It is that, but, at the deepest level, it is also a telling of the basic story of sin, fall, and redemption. All of us sinners are the man beaten up and left half-dead by the side of the road. We cannot be saved by law or religion or our own works, but only by Jesus Christ and his grace. This best-known of Jesus' parables is finally a narrative of salvation.
Our Gospel reading for this Sunday is the account of Jesus' sending of the seventy-two disciples. In the instructions he gives them, we can discern an outline of the life and work of the Church down through the ages. At our best, we are missionary church, empowered by prayer, marked by simplicity of life, bearing health and salvation, and proclaiming the reign of God.
In the stories of the prophets Elijah and Elisha we clearly see the great Biblical theme of vocation and election. Our lives our not about us; it is not finally our autonomy that matters. Rather, we are claimed and chosen and sent by God, and only in the measure that we accept this divine mission do we find true joy. When he resisted God's will and sought to justify himself, Elijah was summarily fired; when Elijah put his mantle over the shoulders of Elisha, Elisha dropped everything and followed the will of God. If you want your whole world turned upside down, read the 18th and 19th chapters of the first book of Kings!
"The book of the prophet Zechariah provides a sort of interpretive key for the life and ministry of Jesus. It tells us what the Messiah would do and what kind of figure he would be. The passage that we read from Zechariah for Mass this week emphasizes that the Messiah, curiously enough, would be ""pierced."" In our Gospel, Peter correctly identifies Jesus as the Messiah, but then he (and we) are given a lesson in what that means: the Son of Man must be rejected, persecuted and put to death. Jesus the Messiah saves the world precisely by being killed. To understand that is to understand everything about Christian faith."
Paul tells us that whenever we eat the body and drink the blood of the Lord, we proclaim his death until he comes. This means that the Eucharist involves a wonderful compression of time, past and future meeting dynamically in the present. When we gather around the Lord's table now, we call to mind the breakthrough moment of the Paschal Mystery and we anticipate the culminating moment of the end of time. In doing this, we charge the present with meaning and purpose.
This weekend, we celebrate the Trinity, a mystery which stands at the very heart of the faith. The doctrine of the Trinity is a technical way of stating what St. John said in his first letter, viz. that God is love. If God is love, then there must be within God a play of lover, beloved, and love. This is the relationality that obtains among the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
"The two great symbols of the descent of the Holy Spirit are wind and tongues of fire. Wind is powerful, unpredictable, destructive, like the Spirit which seizes us and takes us where we would rather not go. Tongues of fire signal impassioned speech on behalf of the Good News, a willingness to announce the Gospel publicly and even in the face of opposition. With the whole church around the world, we pray on this great feast of Pentecost for the coming of that troublesome and wonderful Holy Spirit.
"The feast of the Ascension is meant to awaken hope. In Jesus, risen from the dead and ascended to the right hand of the Father, our lowly human nature participates in the very life of God. In the light of the ascension, therefore, we are permitted to hope for a way of being, elevated and perfected beyond our imagining.
"Last week we explored the central teaching of St. Paul: to live in Christ Jesus. This week, we draw out four implications from this teaching: the corporate nature of the church, a sacramental imagination, the gifts of the Spirit, and the acknowledgement of Jesus as Lord. In emphasizing these themes, Paul gave shape to the whole of Christian theology through the ages.
"Last week we looked at the life and times of Paul, the person who, after Jesus himself, is the most influential figure in the formation of the Christian church. In this week's sermon, I look briefly at Paul's central teaching, which I identify as ""being in Christ."" The phrase ""en Christo,"" in Christ, appears 83 times in the letters of Paul, indicating how central it is to the Apostle's teaching and preaching. Christ Jesus is a new energy field, a new power, a new way of being, and the idea, as far as Paul is concerned, is to get into it--so that ultimately you can say, with him, ""it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.
"During the Easter season, we are reading from the book of the Acts of the Apostles. Though John, Philip, Peter, and James are all featured in Acts, the ""star"" of the text is clearly Paul, missionary and evangelist. Who was this extraordinarily important figure, the man that many say, after Jesus himself, was most influential on the development of Christianity? For the next three weeks, I will be exploring the life, thought, and work of Paul the Apostle.
"Our Gospel for today, taken from the wonderful 21st chapter of St. John's Gospel, is filled with mystical and symbolic allusions. The disciples in the boat are evocative of the church; Jesus on the shore calls to mind the eschatological fulfillment toward which the church is journeying; Peter calls to mind both sinful Adam and the promise of redemption. In all of it, we see a picture of discipleship.
"Despite the locked doors, the risen Jesus stands in the midst of the disciples. This is a beautiful icon of the Church, the community gathered around Jesus and filled with his spirit. When the Lord, first appears, Thomas is not there and hence does not believe. Only when he returns to the apostolic circle does he encounter Jesus and make his great confession. This detail reminds us that we see the risen Lord only in the church and through its mediation.
"Easter is the dawn of a new creation. St. John tells us that Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early on the morning of the first day of the week. This is meant to call to mind the first day of creation, when God said, ""Let there be light"" and brought order out of chaos. From the meaninglessness of death, God brings eternal life. This is the central and revolutionary message of Easter.
"In St. Luke's account of the Passion, we see what real kingship looks like. Jesus gives his entire self away in love--and in that he is Lord. The supreme irony is the sign placed by Pontius Pilate over the cross: This is the King of the Jews. Real power is not a function of money, pleasure, domination, and self-aggrandizement. Real power is self-forgetting love.
"In our second reading for this Sunday, St. Paul lays out his resum. In terms of the Judaism of his time, Paul was about as accomplished as one could hope to be: he was a defender of the tradition, steeped in the wisdom of his people, and blameless under the law. But after seeing Jesus risen from the dead, Paul said that he counted all of those achievements as loss and refuse. So we, he implies, should not base our lives on our accomplishments, degrees, social status--but rather on Christ crucified and risen.
"Jesus' parable of the Prodigal Son is one of the most memorable, carefully crafted, and inspiring stories ever told. In some ways, the whole of the Christian ""thing"" is summed up in this narrative. We have a God who invites us into the dynamism of his own life, and who relentlessly pursues us even when, in our stupidity and sin, we refuse to respond to the invitation.
"When Moses, in our first reading for this Sunday, asks God for his name, the Lord replies ""I am who I am."" God's mysterious self-designation is meant to throw Moses, and all of us, off balance. God is not someone or something that can be named, described, designated or deliminted in the usual way, for God is not a being in or alongside the world. Instead, he is that strange and alluring power that stands behind all of created existence. He is Being Itself, that which can be neither grasped nor hidden from.
"We have a God of adventure, a God who is always out ahead of us. Faith, in the Biblical sense of the term, is not primarily the acquiesence to propositions; rather, it is an attitude of trust in the God who calls us beyond ourselves. We witness this faith in Abraham's willingness to follow where God leads, and we see it too in the disciples' willingness to follow Jesus on the path toward the cross. Do we settle for what we know and control, or do we venture into the darkness, trusting in what God promises? This is the great question that our readings for the second Sunday of Lent propose to us.
"Jesus is driven by the Spirit into the desert in order to be tempted by the devil. The three temptations--to sensual pleasure, to power, and to pride--respresent three fundamental ways that all of us can be distracted from the path that God wants us to walk. It is therefore a salutary Lenten exercise to attend carefully to the texture of Jesus' responses.
"One of the most challenging and disconcerting of Jesus' commands is to love our enemies. In this sermon, I will explore four reasons why this moral demand makes sense. First, it helps us to test the quality of our love; second, it tells us a great deal about ourselves; third, it makes us see that sometimes our enemies might be right; and fourth, it allows us sometimes to win our enemy back.
"Detachment is a key theme in the spiritual masters. It means that we must detach ourselves from all of those created goods--sex, money, power, pleasure--that are not our ultimate good. When we do this, we experience a spiritual freedom that actually enables us to enjoy those things more. Luke's version of the Beatitudes is, I submit, all about this detachment.
"Our second reading for Mass this weekend is one of the most beautiful and oft-quoted in the Biblical tradition: Paul's hymn to love in the 13th chapter of 1 Corinthians. Love--willing the good of the other--must undergird everything else in Christian life. Even the strongest faith, if it is unformed by love, is nothing; even the greatest pastoral outreach, if it is not for the sake of love, means nothing; even the most spectacular spiritual gifts, if they don't conduce toward love, are worthless. In light of this reading, we have the criterion by which to assess the quality of our lives.
"Our first reading for this week is taken from the book of Nehemiah in the Old Testament. Nehemiah returned from exile in order to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem and to preside over the reconstitution of the Israelite nation. The Church, the new Israel, is a people with an identity grounded in tradition, law, word, and sacrament. When we allow those foundations to be destroyed, we are in danger of losing ourselves.
"The prophet Isaiah expresses the conviction of ancient Israel that God wants to marry his people, which is to say, to share his life fully with them. This espousing God becomes flesh in Jesus and hence it is altogether appropriate that the Lord's first public sign in John's Gospel takes place at a wedding. He has come that we might have life and have it to the full. The ""good wine"" of the wedding feast at Cana is now the ""good wine"" of the Eucharist by which all of us become partakers of God's inner life
"Last week, I spoke of the many ""family resemblances"" between Christianity and the other great religious traditions. This week, I look at the other side, all the points of disagreement. How do we balance all of this? Both the Epiphany and the Baptism of the Lord provide clues
The Feast of the Epiphany provides a wonderful occasion for reflecting on the question of Christianity's relationship to the other great religious traditions of the world. As the Magi brought their treasures to Christ, so all of the religions are destined to bring what is true, good, and beautiful in them to Jesus. In this way, all find fulfillment in the one Lord
"Jesus turns upside-down a world turned upside-down by sin--and thereby sets it right. This subversive quality of the Lord is disclosed in the Luke's magnificent Christmas story. It is not to Caesar Augustus--in his pride, power, comfort, and freedom--that we should look, but rather to the humble, poor, and non-violent King, born in a stable in Bethlehem. The question that Christmas poses to us is this: which King do we follow, Caesar or Chris
"The readings for the final Sunday of Advent present us with three essential lessons. First, in the Biblical perspective, great things come from the small; second, never ever give up hope; and third, trust always in the power of God. These are the lessons of Micah, Elizabeth, and Mary
"Everything in nature, culture, and the cosmos is passing away. Nothing here below finally lasts. Though certainly sobering, this is not, ultimately, bad news, for it orients us toward the one power that does last: the steadfast love of God. In the Gospel for today, the Word of God comes not to the mighty and powerful of the world, but to John who is living a life of renunciation and prayer in the desert. How important this message is for the setting of our priorities.
Waiting is a major theme in the Scriptures. Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Peter and Paul--all are compelled to wait before receiving what God wishes to give them. Why? Perhaps because they were on the wrong track; or because they weren't ready to take in what God intended them to have; or because they didn't desire grace with requisite intensity. Advent is the season when we enter into a spirituality of waiting, watching, listening.
"The final Sunday of the Liturgical year is dedicated to Christ the King. One of the earliest forms of Christian proclamation was ""Jesus is Lord."" This was meant to be provocative, since Caesar was customarily described as Lord of the world. The first Christians were saying that Jesus is the one who must in every sense command, direct, and order our lives. Is Jesus truly the King of your life? That's the hard question which this feast raises
"In our rather apocalypic Gospel for today, Jesus is not so much predicting the end of the space-time continuum as he is showing that a new world arrives through his death and resurrection. Apocalypse means literally ""unveiling,"" and what is unveiled, revealed in the Paschal Mystery is none other than the end of an old way of being and the beginning of a new one
The Catholic Faith inculcates in us a deep sense of our connection to the dead. They are present to us in memory of course, but also through their prayer, guidance and loving concern. We too pray for them inasmuch as they stand in need of purification before being ready to share fully the divine life. This co-inherence between us the living and the holy souls is what we celebrate on All Souls Day.
The Catholic Faith inculcates in us a deep sense of our connection to the dead. They are present to us in memory of course, but also through their prayer, guidance and loving concern. We too pray for them inasmuch as they stand in need of purification before being ready to share fully the divine life. This co-inherence between us the living and the holy souls is what we celebrate on All Souls Day.
What does it mean to say that Jesus died for our sins? How precisely does his cross save us? The first Christians saw sin as a sort of imprisonment, like being held for ransom, and in the dying and rising of Jesus, they experienced freedom. What freed them was God's solidarity with them in their fear, even their fear of death. How do you experience the power of Jesus' death on the cross? How does it set you free
The Gospel story of the conversation between Jesus and the rich young man is one of John Paul II's favorites and is featured in many of his writings. The Pope sees three great moral themes in this narrative: the objectivity of the good, the indispensiblity of the commandments, and finally, the call to radical self-gift. The rich young man accepts the first two but balks at the third--and this is his tragedy. How radically are we willing to live the moral life? Will we follow Jesus, or walk away sad?
The love between a husband and wife--in all of its dimensions--is one of the most powerful symbols we have of the love of God. The intimate connection between a man and woman in love is a hint of the infinitely powerful love that binds the persons of the Trinity. This is why Jesus raises marriage to such a high spiritual dignity and why that institution has been so reverenced by the Church over the centuries. By the way, does it bother you a little that there aren't more married people in the ranks of the canonized saints? It bothers me!
The structures of the Catholic religion are deeply rooted in the tradition and flow, ultimately, from the will of God. They are the ordinary channels through which the divine grace flows. However, as the Gospel for today clearly indicates, God is not restricted by the institutions and structures that he himself established, and so his grace can operate even outside of the official church. Whatever is good, true, and beautiful in culture, society or other religions is, indirectly related to Christ and thus should not be suppressed or despised
"Children are like plants, rocks, and flowers in this sense: they don't know how to be something that they are not. They haven't yet learned to lie, dissemble, pretend, or to seek to be someone they are not meant to be. We are all, right now, being created by God for God's purposes. Childlike joy returns to us the moment we put aside all our games of self-promotion and self-deception and live in accord with God's deepest desire for us.
Have you ever found yourself in the position of the disciples in today's Gospel: wrangling over power, status, and prestige? How do you react when Jesus places before you a little child and says, ""become like him""
"Today's feast, the Triumph of the Cross, is one of those remarkable Christian paradoxes. To describe an unspeakably brutal execution as a ""triumph"" seems either a bad joke or plain madness. But we Christians delight in this odd juxtaposition of agony and ecstacy, because we know the deepest truth of the cross is God's swallowing up of even the greatest sin. And so like Paul we glory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. How have you perhaps sensed the triumph of the cross in your own life?
Our Gospel story today concerns a man who is deaf and dumb. He is symbolically evocative of an Israel that had grown deaf to God's word and, accordingly, unable to speak God's truth clearly. We are meant to identify with him, for we too often allow God's voice to be drowned out by other sounds, and we too are frequently incapable of articulating our faith in a compelling way. The solution is to be plugged into Jesus, to listen to him and to allow him to speak through us.
It's all about the Voice. As a sheep hears the distinctive voice of its shepherd, so we hear, amidst the cocaphony of competing voices, The Voice of God's own Son. Following him is now the only option
The risen Christ makes two basic moves: he shows his wounds and speaks a word of peace. In so doing, he reminds us of our sins and he assures us of his forgiveness. In this a new world opens up, for we know that nothing can finally separate us from the love of God--even the act of killing God!
The risen Jesus breaks through the locked doors of our fears and brings us the Shalom (the full flourishing) that God wants for his people. Then he breathes into us the power and joy of the Holy Spirit and he sends us out to spread the good news.
"Though the Enlightenment taught us to privatize and interiorize our religion, the Bible has a robustly ""political"" sense of God's activity. God's will is revealed in the movements and struggles of the nations. National sin (like personal sin) results in divine judgment. This deeply Biblical intuition is revealed in Lincoln's reading of the Civil War and in Karl Barth's interpretation of the First World War.
In cleansing the temple and announcing its destruction, Jesus shows that he himself is the new temple, the authentic dwelling place of God on earth. In the measure that we are grafted onto him, we too become temples of the Holy Spirit.
Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac is a foreshadowing of God the Father's willingness to sacrifice his Son for the salvation of the world. Both reveal the terrible and wonderful law of the gift: the more you give away what you love, the more your being is enhanced.
Mark tells us that Jesus went into the desert and there was ministered to by angels while he lived among the beasts. One of the marks of sin is an aliention of the body and the spirit, the animal and the angelic in all of us. Jesus represents the proper balance between the two.
Christ is the bridegroom and we the church are his bride. He wants to affect a union with us that is as intimate as a husband's and wife's. If we are to take in the new life that Jesus offers us, we must be transformed from within. New wine (God's life) can only be received by new wineskins.
"God wants nothing more than for us to be fully alive. Sin cramps us, paralyzes us, prevents us from flourishing. Jesus' whole life and being is God's ""yes"" to human beings. So he forgives the sin of the paralytic and then invites him to walk."" The glory of God is a human being fully alive."
Jesus seeks out even the unclean and the despised. Whenever we wander from God's love, we become deformed; whenever an aspect of ourselves--mind, will, body, imagination--loses its connection to the Lord, it becomes sick. To be clean is to be reconnected to the power of Christ the Center.
They come to him from all sides--the lame, the blind, the fearful, the sick--and he cures them. Jesus is a conduit of the divine energy and love, a fountain of grace. True then, true now.
Eight days after his birth, Mary presents Jesus in the temple. Our lives take on meaning and purpose only in the measure that we make of them gifts to God. The Mass is the great act by which we, in Christ, present ourselves to the Father.
Jonah hears God's invitation and refuses to cooperate. But God's providence is universal and his demand is absolute. When he has gone through the discipline of the belly of the fish, Jonah is ready. At his word, the entire city of Nineveh repents. When we hear our call to Nineveh, let us not resist!
The young prophet Samuel listens to the Lord's voice, seeks guidance from an elder, and then disposes himself to do what the Lord demands. In this he becomes a model of the disciple: the one who hears and obeys.
At the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus, the sinless one, stands shoulder to shoulder with sinners in the muddy waters of the Jordan River. Jesus' whole purpose is to go the lost, the sick, the forgotten, the sinful in order to bring the light of God's love.
"The Three Wise Men see the sign, they move, they overcome opposition, and then they give the new-born King the best they have. Having walked this spiritual itinerary, they then ""go back by a different route,"" for no one ever comes to Christ and goes back the same way he came."
The Christmas story is essentially a tale of subversion. Everything the world holds up as beautiful and worthy of attention is undermined: wealth, power, privilege, comfort. The icon of God is not the mighty Caesar Augustus, but the little child of Bethlehem, too weak to hold up his own head. Real power is love: there is the subversive message of Christmas.
The greatest of the Advent figures makes her appearance in the Gospel for today. Mary the mother of God is the new Eve, the one who, through her expectation and obedience, undid the sin of Eve and Adam. They tried to seize God's gifts; Mary accepted them as a grace.
"Today is Gaudete Sunday. The word ""gaudete"" means ""rejoice."" It has been said that the surest sign of the presence of the Holy Spirit in one's soul is joy. When God has made his dwelling with us, deep peace, abiding joy is the result."""
The God who comes to save us is one who rules with a strong arm, who brings a reward and recompense, who gathers and feeds his sheep, who clears a highway before him. All of these rich metaphors and images are from the prophet Isaiah, the greatest of the Old Testament Advent figures.
The French spiritual writer Simone Weil said that the core of the Christian life is waiting, watching, expecting. We cannot save ourselves, but we can look with rapt attention to the one who can. In this sense, we are,permanently, an Advent people
Our Gospel for today is one of the most devastating texts in the New Testament. Jesus tells us that whenever we neglected to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned, welcome the lonely, we failed to care for him. Dorothy Day said that everything a baptized Christian does every day should be related to the corporal and spiritual works of mercy.
"At the heart of the Christian moral and spiritual life is a willingness to risk. When we cling selfishly and protectively to what God has given us, we dry up. But when we risk it, give it away in love, we increase the life within us."""
We hear today the parable of the five wise and five foolish virgins. The former are ready for the bridegroom when he comes; the latter are not. We have no idea when Christ will come to gather us to himself: so we must be ready--through prayer, the sacraments, and forgiveness.
The problem with the Pharisees is not what they teach. It is that they use religion--the very thing that is meant to take us out of ourselves--as a means of aggrandizing the ego. Law, custom, practice, religious dress, titles--all of it becomes a way of trumpeting the self.
In today's Gospel, Jesus sums up the law and the prophets with the command that we must love God with our whole being and our neighbor as ourself. These two moves are absolutely basic: everything else in Christianity flows from them or comments upon them.
We must render to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's. But we must also recall that everything belongs to God, including Caesar! Secular government and culture have their legitimate place, but they are not independent of God and God's purposes.
The great parable of the wedding banquet reminds us that we are invited by God into fullness of life and that we have to respond with all of our powers to that invitation. The single greatest tragedy in human life is the refusal to answer the call to God's banquet. We must do it, before it is too late.
The world and its wonders are not ours to own. Rather they are given to us in trust; we are their tenants. When we forget this basic fact, we invite disaster and degenerate into moral corruption. We must remember that we are servants and God the master.
The second reading for Mass today contains one of the most beautiful passages in the New Testament, St. Paul's hymn to the self-emptying love of Christ. We sinners cling to godliness; the true God does not, but rather gives himself away in humility and love. The cross of Jesus is thus the undoing of the sin of Eden.
"God's ways are not our ways; God's thoughts are not our thoughts. How is God's love playing itself out in the world? It isn't always easy to see, for there are so many injustices, so much innocent suffering, so much out of balance. But the dispensing of grace is God's business, not ours, and so we should ask the question ""why?"" not in a spirit of rebellion, but in an attitude of awe."
Forgiveness is at the very heart of the teaching and lifestyle of Jesus. To forgive is actively to heal a broken relationship, to seek out the one from whom we are alienated. How often do we do it? As often as it is required, for there is nothing more important in the body of Christ.
We find in the 18th chapter of Matthew's Gospel a wonderful blueprint for the resolution of difficulties in the community of Christ. Don't gossip, don't back stab, don't complain. Instead, have the courage to go to the one who is out of line and tell him or her in love.
Last week we heard of the grace by which Peter correctly confessed the identity of Jesus. This week, we hear of his weakness. Opposing the cross, he becomes an ally of the dark powers. The Church is infallible and the Church is made up of sinners. When we forget one or the other, we fall into trouble.
The Church of Jesus Christ is governed, not by popular opinion polls, nor even by the holiness of the saints, but by the strange grace that comes to the successors of St. Peter. Hardly the brightest or holiest of Jesus disciples, Peter was nevertheless the one who saw and understood.
The Syro-Phoenicean woman stands for all those who are marginalized, ostracized, ignored, set aside. Through her persistance and cleverness, she obtains what she wants from Jesus. The Church must be that body of people who listen to the persistant cries of the poor and the forgotten.
Peter is a symbol of the Church. In the stormy waters, he looks to Jesus and is able to walk on the waves. But when he looks away, he sinks. So with the Church across the ages: when our eyes are fixed on the Lord, we flourish even in adversity; when we look away from him, we falter.
The compassion of Jesus creates the Church. We are the instruments of the Lord's love for the world. How do we cooperate with him? By giving him even the little that we have and waiting for him to multiply it!
The Kingdom of God is like a treasure that we miraculously find; it is like a pearl for which we diligently search; it is like a net that will gather us in. Jesus offers these three great images for God's reign.
One of the most mysterious and yet practically applicable of Jesus' parables is at the heart of today's Gospel. The wheat and the weeds are allowed to grow together until the harvest, just as, strangely, good and evil are allowed to exist side-by-side in the affairs of the world. Why is his true? Because God deigns to bring good out of evil.
God is a farmer who sows the seed of his love liberally, on good and bad soil, to saint and sinner alike. There is no limit to God's willingness to save. If we are the least bit cooperative, the grace of God will cause life to spring up in us thirty, sixty, or a hundred fold.
There is nothing anti-intellectual about the Catholic tradition. It has reverenced great minds from Augustine to John Henry Newman. But the Lord reminds us that the mind can easily become arrogant, self-important, bullying. Thomas Aquinas, one of the greatest geniuses who ever lived, had, by all accounts, the soul of an innocent child.
Jesus tells his followers that those who love their mothers and fathers more than him are not worthy of him. This shocking claim is not meant to encourage hatred of one's family! It is meant to force us into a clear prioritization of values: God must be first, without condition, compromise or cavil.
The Christian disciple is truly free in the measure that he is not afraid. Thomas More couldn't be compromised, precisely because he couldn't be frightened by the loss of earthly goods. Jesus tells his disciples not to be afraid even of those who can kill the body. In faith, we are connected to that power which transcends space and time, life and death.
"In describing the pity that Jesus felt for the crowds, Matthew uses a distinctive Greek term that means, literally, ""his guts were moved."" God's compassion for the world is a gut-wrenching, visceral desire to address human suffering. The instrument that Jesus chooses to express this compassion are the twelve apostles, prototypes of the Church."""
"One of the great conversion stories in the New Testament is the account of the call of St. Matthew. Jesus summons the worldly tax-gatherer and Matthew rises from his post to follow the Lord. In the symbolic language of the Bible, this ""rising"" evokes the elevation to a higher and richer life: intimacy with Jesus."
On this feast of Corpus Christ, we reflect on the inexhaustibly rich theme of the Eucharist. The particular motif I pursue in this homily is that of the eucharist as food for eternal life. Eating the body and drinking the blood of Jesus fits us for the rarified atmosphere of a heavenly existence.
"In his letter to the Galatians, Paul enumerates the fruits of the Holy Spirit, the concrete results of living the life of the Trinity. These include love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness and self-control. Is someone living ""in Christ,"" or ""in the Holy Spirit?"" Watch for these particular signs."
On Pentecost, the disciples heard a strong driving wind, saw tongues of flames, and then received amazing gifts of the Spirit, enabling them to proclaim and witness. The Church, throughout the centuries, has received spectacular charisms of miracle-working, healing, and the speaking in tongues. As with all manifestations of the Holy Spirit, they are given for one reason: the building up of the Body of Christ.
In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul specifies some of the great charismatic offices, including prophets who boldly speak the word, apostles who establish churches, evangelists who draw others to Christ, and pastors who order and manage the community of the faithful. Which office is yours?
"As Pentecost approaches, the Church invites us to meditate upon the Holy Spirit, the person who is the love between the Father and the Son. To be in the spirit is to be gifted with what Paul called ""charismata,"" powers enabling us to build up the church of God."
Jesus tells us that he is preparing a place for us in his Father's house. The house or household is a wonderful image for heaven, for it is a place of action, energy, inter-dependence and mutual support. There is nothing bland or passive about life with God and the saints. Rather it is like living in an endlessly interesting and bustling city.
Our reading from the Acts of the Apostles provides an account of St. Peter's great sermon on Pentecost morning. His proclamation--bold, unapologetic, evangelical, deeply challenging--is the model of all Christian preaching and public witness.
"Luke's account of the encounter with Jesus on the road to Emmaus is one of the greatest stories ever told. It is also a vivid description of the spiritual life. We ""get"" Jesus, we begin to see him, only when we allow him to break the Word and break the bread. The liturgy, in short, is the place where he becomes visible."
"Throughout the Easter season, we contemplate Scriptural images of the Church, for the Church is the ""place"" where the risen Lord is encountered. In the Acts of the Apostles, we find the essentials of ecclesial life clearly described: the community of believers is apostolic, communal, and eucharistic."
"In Matthew's version of the Easter story, symbols of novelty and transformation abound: it is the first day of the week, light is dawning, a stone has been rolled back, the very earth shakes, and an angel, a bearer of light, comes and speaks a word of hope. Easter is the day when everything changed, when God's mercy turned the world as we know it upside-down. We Christians are the proclaimers of this reversal.""
On Palm Sunday, we are privileged to listen to one of the great passion narratives. In Matthew's account, we see Jesus as a still-point in the maelstrom, as God's fidelity amidst a cocaphony of sin. In the course of the passion, Jesus confronts betrayal, laziness, violence, untruth, abuse of power, self-destruction, and wanton cruelty--the whole panoply of human dysfunction. And he takes away this sin precisely by his obedience and his mercy.
"Our God hates death. He wants us to rise from our graves. Whenever life is compromised in any way, Jesus says, ""Come out!"" We are meant to see his tears of sorrow and hear his voice of command."
Blindness is a great Biblical symbol of spiritual blindness, the darkening and distortion of our vision. Jesus salves and washes the blind man in John's Gospel in order to restore his sight. In the same way, he washes us (in Baptism) and salves us (in the other sacraments) so that we might see with his eyes.
"We are made for God, and therefore our hearts are restless until they rest in him. This longing is symbolized in the thirst of the woman at the well. Directing her away from all earthly goods, Jesus draws her to himself: ""I will give you water springing up to eternal life."" We hear the same invitation to the font of grace."
On the mount of Transfiguration, Jesus becomes brilliantly illumined. This light signals the radiance and beauty of a world beyond this one, a dimension from which Jesus has come and to which he is luring us.
Just after his baptism, Jesus retires to the wilderness and there he faces the tempter. We enter into this experience with him, facing the same struggle. Like the Lord himself, we wrestle with the temptations to make sensual pleasure, the ego, and power the center of our lives. In resisting all three, we make the acceptance of God's will and mission possible.
"During the great season of Lent, the Church recommends three very concrete acts: prayer, fasting, and the giving of alms. These are actions that involve the body as much as the mind; and they are things that we ""do."" Lent is not so much a time to fuss about one's ""interiority"" as a time to get going!"
At the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, we hear the eight beatitudes. These are a summons to be liberated from the various addictions--to material things, to power, to good feeling, to the esteem of others--that keep us from following the will of God.
"When Jesus calls his first disciples, he stirs the ""imago Dei,"" the image of God, in them. They realize that they will find themselves only in surrendering to the one who will make them fishers of men. We hear the same call from the same Christ."
"John hesitates before baptizing the Lord, saying, ""It is I who should be baptized by you."" The great surprise--that we have been wrestling with for two millenia--is that God's greatness is a function of his humility, his willingness to stand shoulder to shoulder in the muck of sin with the likes of us. That we have such a God, a friend of sinners, is the reason for our hope."
The scene of the baptism of Jesus described in the Gospel of Matthew is a theophany, a showing forth of the being of God. The Father crying out from heaven; the Son standing in the water with us sinners; the Spirit hovering.
"The journey of these wise men is a metaphor for the spiritual journeys that all of us must make. Like the magi, we must be attentive; we must be willing to act; we must expect opposition; we must give our best to Christ, and finally, we must be willing to change, ""to go back by a different route."""
"Everything about Luke's familiar Christmas story is surprising. Mary and Joseph, the inn, the child wrapped in swaddling clothes, the manger, the angels and shepherds--all challenge our ordinary conceptions of what is good, right, and powerful. Listen again to this story and hear it as, in the strict sense of the term, ""subversive."""
"One of the most popular saints in the Christian tradition is Joseph, the husband of Mary. We see in the Gospel for the fourth Sunday of Advent that Joseph is a man willing to situate the struggles and uncertainties of his life in the context of a divine plan whose contours and purpose he cannot fully grasp. He is willing to think and act ""outside the box,"" and this makes him a model for us Advent people."
St. James reminds us that an essential element of the Christian life is waiting. As the farmer waits for the precious yield of the earth, so the believer waits while Christ does his mysterious work in the world. Thus we must learn the virtue of patient expectation.
"As we commence a new liturgical year, the Church invites us to survey the world from the standpoint of Isaiah's holy mountain, the height to which all the nations stream. This is a beautiful image of ""communio,"" of the many gathered around the one, and it is reflective of the fundamental ""communio"" which is the Trinity, three persons constituting the one God. When we look at things from this perspective, we see them aright."
John the Baptist is, along with Isaiah and the Virgin Mary, the great figure of Advent. We hear his voice in the desert, summoning us to repentance and readiness. When we have purified our minds and hearts, we are able to receive the one who will baptize us with the Holy Spirit, the fire of God's very life.
Christ is indeed King, but an odd one. For he reigns, not from a throne, but from a cross, and he is crowned, not with laurel leaves, but with a ring of thorns. What this feast teaches us is the meaning of true power. The power that creates the cosmos is not domination, but rather self-forgetting and self-sacrificing love.