The yoke that frees you.

My first post in a few weeks... I have to admit, I was a little rusty!

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Homily: 14^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          My brothers and sisters, we know that, for a Christian, strength is found in weakness.  This is because our teacher is Jesus Christ, and, as we just heard in today’s Gospel, he wants us to learn from Him to be meek and humble of heart.  While the world may brush the simple aside and call them ignorant, Jesus’ prayer to his Father teaches us to value the greatness of the little ones among us because God himself chose them to be preachers of Divine Wisdom.  Let us, then, reflect a little more deeply on this important principle of our Christian faith.

          At the risk of overstating the obvious, I am reminded that it was the humiliation of Christ that brought about the salvation of man.  The people of Israel had different expectations for the Messiah.  Many of them thought that he would be a great worldly king that would make the nation of Israel stand out and above all other nations of the world.  Many others thought that he would be a mighty warrior who would overthrow the kingdoms of the world and thus unite all peoples under one king, the Messiah.  But Jesus confounded these notions by his way of doing things.  When he came, he presented himself as a humble king, a meek king. In fact, when he makes his triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, he does so meekly, riding a donkey; and in doing so, fulfills the prophecy given hundreds of years before by the prophet Zechariah.

          As if being divine and taking on a human nature wasn’t enough, Jesus stripped himself of any aura of greatness when he came to us.  In other words, he made himself small and lived among the forgotten, among those who are hidden from the eyes of the world, and he chose them to be guardians of the message of salvation.  This is most poignantly demonstrated by the fact that the most noble of all teachings ever known—things that the wise and the learned were constantly seeking—were spread throughout the world by a handful of simple fishermen. These disciples, who otherwise would have been forgotten because they were among the hidden ones in the world, began the most transcendent social transformation in all of human history; and this because Christ had humbled himself so completely.

          Earlier in the Gospel of Matthew, at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches the Beatitudes—his teachings on the meaning and the way to true happiness.  In these, Jesus declares: blessed are the poor, the humble, the imprisoned, the sick, the suffering, and the weeping… in other words, the little ones, that is, all those who labor and are heavy burdened.  Throughout the centuries the truths of these teachings have played out in the lives of a number of Saints, many of whom have changed history with their simple projects.  For example, just to name a few: Francis of Assisi, who was called the “poverello”—or little poor one—who restored to the Church’s consciousness the value of poverty and evangelical zeal; Therese of Lisieux, the “Little Flower”, who proposed “the little way” of holiness that has been so widely adopted that she has been declared a Doctor of the Church; Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who was known as “the angel of the lepers” because of her care for the outcast and forgotten, awoke once again the spirit of charity in the Church.

          Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the most purely simple soul that ever existed: the Blessed Virgin Mary.  God chose this most simple of women—the most humble and the most pure—to carry out his most sublime mission: to bear his only Son into the world.  Mary, for her part, adopted these virtues of humility and simplicity and made them the absolute measure of all her actions.  Thus, when the angel Gabriel appeared to her to reveal God’s plan that she become the mother of his Son, it was in simplicity that she could say “yes” to him.  Having done so, she then became the key to the story of salvation.  Friends, true freedom, true joy, and true beauty are found in the mystery of simple souls.  Only by striving to imitate them and by becoming simple ourselves can we call ourselves disciples of Christ, who was “meek and humble of heart.”

          My brothers and sisters, the examples of these saints demonstrates for us the truth that man is transformed when he draws near to Christ with a humbled spirit.  This is what he is calling us to learn from him by taking his yoke upon us.  Too often, however, we are content with bearing our own yokes, ourselves.  In other words, we think that, if we are going to become holy, we have to do it ourselves.  Christ knows what a heavy burden this is for us and that it is one that we cannot possibly bear forever.  Thus he calls out to us “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”  It is a very beautiful promise: one, I’m sure, that each and every one of us longs to realize.  But it’s the conditions for realizing the promise that keep most people from realizing it: Come to me…

          Friends, if we are truly going to realize the perfect rest that Christ promises to us, then we must be willing to come to him and to abandon ourselves to him by taking his yoke upon our shoulders so that he might teach us the way of simplicity: how to be meek and humble of heart.  One practical way that we do this is by reading the Gospels and by striving to imitate our Lord’s simplicity in our daily lives.  Another way would be to come to Adoration on Tuesday nights and on First Fridays.  By spending time with our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, we allow him to transform our hearts into his.  Above all, of course, is your regular participation in the Mass in which we come to him most intimately when we receive him in Holy Communion.

          Let us, therefore, take up this good work once again today so that we might grow in simplicity and humility after the model of our Savior; and that we, too, might be counted among the little ones whom God sends to bring the Good News of life and salvation to all those around us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 9^th, 2017

Consider your own calling...

Homily: 4^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          There once was a famous preacher who, taking his cue from a famous journalist, would teach his students of the importance of including real names of persons in their sermons.  (It's ironic that I would begin my preaching with this, because I cannot remember the names of either the preacher or the journalist!)  The journalist famously once quipped: “If I printed names out of the phone book, people would read it just to see if they, or if someone they knew, was included.”  Using personal names in a sermon, this preacher taught, will catch people’s attention as they listen for whether or not they’ll either hear their own name, or the name of someone whom they know.

          Jesus begins his famous teaching, the Sermon on the Mount, utilizing this same principle.  Although he doesn’t use personal names, he nonetheless names many of those who were following him as he names many of the situations in which they were living.  “Blessed are the poor in spirit… Blessed are the meek…”  I can see many a poor tradesman and many a homemaker in the crowd look up and say “Hey, that’s me!”  “Blessed are they who mourn…”  I can see a woman, newly widowed, perhaps, look up and say “Hey, that’s me!”  “Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness…”  I can see a zealot who wants nothing more than to see the Roman occupiers expelled from Jerusalem look up and say “Hey, that’s me!”  And so on… Jesus knows to whom he is reaching out and he wants them to know that the kingdom of God is for them.  And so, he calls them out “by name” and shares how they, too, will be included in God’s plan.

          Saint Paul didn’t have the Beatitudes written down for him when he was on his missionary journeys.  Nonetheless, when he wrote to the Church in Corinth, he cited this Gospel principle.  The Corinthians, it seems, were beginning to think a bit much of themselves and so Paul deems it necessary to remind them from where they came.  “Consider your own calling,” he wrote.  “Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.”  “Remember”, in other words, “that God did not call you because you were a ‘mover and a shaker’.  He called you because you were humble and lowly.”  Catching their attention in this way, he can then remind them: “Blessed will you be if you remain meek and humble, boasting only in the Lord, for the kingdom promised to you will be yours.”

          This, of course, has been God’s “M.O.” for the longest time.  The prophet Zephaniah is calling out the ancient Israelites for the same thing.  In the passage that we read today, the prophet is announcing a pending tribulation for the people because of their disobedience to God.  He’s calling the “humble of the earth, who have observed [God’s] law” to “seek the Lord”, in the hope that the Lord, when the tribulation comes, will shield them from the suffering that will befall this people.  “Don’t be arrogant”, he seems to be saying, “but rather seek justice, seek humility, and perhaps the Lord, looking on your lowliness, will shelter you on the day of his anger.”  Alerting the people in this way, he then reveals God’s promise: that God will not wipe out his people completely, but rather that he will leave a remnant from them: “a people humble and lowly, who shall take refuge in the name of the Lord…”

          This warning—"Seek the Lord"—comes to us today and should be received as a warning for our time.  I know that we have set ourselves on the course to "make America great again", but we should remember that prosperity is not to be pursued over righteousness before God.  "Seek the Lord", as we read it in today’s reading, is equated with "seek justice" and "seek humility".  These, therefore, are the things that we ought to be seeking; because these will make America truly great again.

          My brothers and sisters, we must not allow ourselves to be lured into presumption: that by our merits we are "okay" with God.  Rather, we must continue to humble ourselves before Him: recognizing that all that we have that is good has come from Him.  In doing so, we will keep from boasting in our own achievements and always give credit where credit is due: to God, from whom all good things come.  Providentially, this is a great point of evangelization; because when we demonstrate what God has accomplished in us—not boasting in ourselves, but in what God has done in spite of ourselves—we show to others that they don’t have to have their lives completely together in order to be chosen by God.  Rather, they simply need to humble themselves before Him, so that He can make them, too, into something great.  Just like it was for Jesus when he began to teach the crowds in the Sermon on the Mount, and just like it was for Paul when he was first proclaimed the Gospel to the people in Corinth, this teaching can be very attractive for people who are struggling in life, thinking that they have to earn God’s love before they can come to him.

          My brothers and sisters, the Beatitudes are commentaries on the reality of the human condition.  If we cannot see that, it is because we are blinded by the pride that says that we have to be successful, powerful, and influential in life.  Jesus’ teaching is meant to contradict this pride: teaching us that by accepting this reality (and the sufferings that inevitably come with it) we will be living the human condition well, in humility and lowliness, and, therefore, that we will have a reward of great joy in the life that is to come.

          Thus, our task this week is to step back and to ask ourselves: “Do I identify with any of these beatitudes?”  In other words, at any point in the readings did I look up and say “Hey, that’s me!”  If yes, then great!  Continue to seek the Lord by seeking justice and humility and giving all credit to the Lord for any good that you have done and will do.  If no, then perhaps it’s time to heed Saint Paul’s admonition to “consider your own calling” and to remember that, if you have been called by God, it is because he saw you in your lowliness and desired to raise you up so as to show the world that he doesn’t need the powerful to accomplish his will.  Thus, you can recommit yourself to humble obedience, boasting that God has accomplished great things through you.

          My brothers and sisters, Jesus, himself, became poor in spirit so that we might receive the kingdom of God.  As we offer this sacrifice of thanksgiving for so great a gift, let us open our hearts to that same poverty of spirit so that we might experience the fullness of that kingdom: both here, under sacramental signs, and in the life to come.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 28^th & 29^th, 2017

It's not just what happened, it's what's happening still...

Homily: Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord – Cycle B

          Each year, Palm Sunday invites us to enter deeply into that fateful week in which Our Lord fulfilled the Father’s plan to redeem us from sin and to conquer sin and death forever.  In this week we follow literally in his footsteps as we watch, day by day, as events unfold leading up to his passion, death, and resurrection.  Today, we preview what Friday will bring us by recounting our Lord’s Passion.  In order to help us to enter more deeply into this experience of Our Lord’s Passion, I would like to share with you a reflection by Father Edward Steiner that was recently published in The Priest magazine.  Fr. Steiner invites us to identify with various persons highlighted in this Passion account so that we might more deeply experience the profound power of God’s mercy, poured out in what Jesus—God’s only Son—suffered for us.  Let us now consider his words.

(I have no desire to invite any sort of copyright complaints, so click here to read Fr. Steiner's full reflection, found on the Our Sunday Visitor website. What follows is what I added to his words at the end of my homily.)

          But what about the woman who anointed Jesus with costly perfumed oil? Are we ever her, offering all that we have simply to honor Jesus for who he is and for what he has done for us?  If we can see and admit our role in the crucifixion, then perhaps we can also acknowledge the chance we are being given to humble ourselves before the Lord and to anoint him with our praise and our service.

          Therefore, this week, let us courageously humble ourselves before the Lord and let us acknowledge our role in his Passion and Death, so that we, too, might glory in the power of his mercy when we celebrate his Resurrection on Easter Sunday: the power that we receive, even now, in this Holy Eucharist.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 28^th & 29^th, 2015

The mercy that we need, but don't always seek

          Ah, it's always good to go back and remember how God worked in your life!  I hope that by sharing my experiences others will see some working of God in their lives.

          And please let this be a plug for our Parish Mission!  It's like a "big-tent revival" that other Christian communities celebrate.  Attending a parish mission turned me on this journey to priesthood.  God can use this mission to turn you towards his perfect plan for your life, too!

November 10-14, 2013 at All Saints Parish in Logansport.
Evening sessions begin at 6:30 p.m., Sunday through Thursday.
Daytime sessions begin at 12:30 p.m., Monday through Thursday.

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Homily: 30^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          About ten and a half years ago, I had hit what I would call a “personal low-point”.  Things in my life seemed to me to be unraveling.  I had been working as an engineer for a few years and was very disappointed in the way my career was already shaping up.  I had also just been through the disastrous breakup of a relationship that had lasted nearly three years (with the disastrous part being completely my fault).  On top of that, I found myself questioning the faith I was raised in.  Basically, the foundation rocks of my future—career, marriage, religious faith and practice—seemed to be crumbling in front of me and I was in crisis.

          By God’s grace, in the midst of all of this, I was moved to participate in the mission my parish was having.  At that mission I came to recognize that the things that I thought were the rock foundation of my future were really just sand, because I had ignored God’s commandments and was building them of my own accord.  I felt ashamed and for the first time in my life truly knew what it meant to ask for God’s mercy.

          From that point on, however, I began to build.  I tried to learn more about my faith and began to study the Bible and the Catechism.  I began to attend Mass daily and started to get very involved in my parish.  I made many positive friendships with people who helped support my desire to live virtuously and, two years later, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

          At that time I also met a wonderful young woman and we began to date.  I was so excited about this relationship because I felt that it was the first time that I was truly dating according to God’s plan and not my own.  The only problem was that I had started to become complacent and self-assured in the daily practice of my faith.  So much so, that I started to exhibit some self-righteousness.  This woman who I was dating began to see through that and when she called me out on it I was shocked, then angry that she had done so, but then, once again, I found myself ashamed and in desperate need of God’s mercy.

          And so, for me, I find a lot to relate to in the Pharisee from today’s Gospel reading.  He had mastered all of the regulations in the Law of Moses, which was no small feat!  The Law contains over 600 regulations and, just to be sure that they never encroached even on those, the Pharisees added their own “safeguard” regulations on top of them.  Thus, to master all of these laws, one had to be very disciplined and conscientious.  His problem, however, was that he let all of that get to his head and his self-assuredness became self-righteousness.  And so we see in the Gospel reading how he came before God not to lay his work before God’s judgment, but rather to crown himself with a crown of righteousness.

          I relate to him because I feel like I had been acting similar to him.  I was following all of God’s commandments and often found myself judging myself righteous in comparison to others.  I boasted of always “striving to do God’s will” even though I was not actually prayerfully discerning what God was calling me to do.  I knew that I wasn’t perfect, but I had become complacent in being “better than most”.

          Nonetheless, I also find a lot to relate to in the tax collector.  On top of being a job that other Jews would despise him for doing, the job itself didn’t pay a salary; and so the only way that he could earn money would be to tack on fees to each transaction.  Well, he quickly realized that he could make a lot of money doing that and so he began to tack on exorbitant fees that were inconsistent with the taxes being paid, which he knew to be unjust.  Thus, he knew that he wasn’t perfect and so it was clear to him that only the mercy of God could earn him any semblance of righteousness.  Therefore he came before God in the Temple not to proclaim his own righteousness, but rather to accuse himself before God and to beg for his mercy.

          I relate to him because both at the beginning and at the end of this time that I have been describing, I found myself in a similar state: recognizing my own failure to be righteous and thus turning to God to beg for his mercy.  In the first instance, I could accuse myself.  In the second, however, I needed another to accuse me.  In both I either saw or came to see that I needed God’s mercy in order to earn any semblance of righteousness.

          “Ok, so I’m a little confused, Father.  Are you saying we should or shouldn’t strive for righteousness? because it sounds like you just said that the better thing is to remember our need for God’s mercy, but that when we are achieving righteousness we’re apt to forget it.”  Yes, we still need to strive for righteousness; and no needing to constantly remember our need for God’s mercy is no excuse for continuing to commit your favorite sins (useful, perhaps, but not a good idea).  What we need to do is follow Saint Paul’s example, who was righteous in every way according to the Law, following all of the Lord’s commandments, yet who never counted it to be more than rubbish compared to what God’s mercy could do (and did do) in him.  Or how about Pope Francis, who when asked by a reporter to describe himself replied firstly, “I am a sinner whom the Lord has looked upon.”  Yes, my brothers and sisters, we must strive for righteousness, for it is what God has made us for.  But we must also acknowledge our inability to crown ourselves: that is, that we, too, are indeed “sinners whom the Lord has looked upon.”

          Just this past week I was visiting one of our homebound parishioners.  When I arrived she asked almost immediately if I would hear her confession.  She said that she couldn’t really think of any specific sins that she had committed, but that she realized that it had been a long time since she last went to confession; and, acknowledging that God could call her home soon, she didn’t want to have to explain to God why her short memory or weak conscience kept her from receiving his mercy.  “I try to be good,” she was basically saying, “but I know that I’m not perfect.”  “You know what,” I thought, “she gets it.”  This is the humility that Jesus is talking about: the humility that, although she couldn’t accuse herself of any particular sin, nonetheless still acknowledged her need for God’s mercy.

          My brothers and sisters, we are all constantly in need of God’s mercy.  Let us, then, humble ourselves here today before the one who alone can exult us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – October 27^th, 2013

You're invited...

...to a great wedding feast!  It's called the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  Come, see what you've been missing.

You can see Amy's story (which I mention in my homily) here.

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Homily: 22^nd Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          I remember fondly, back in the day when I was a kid in Joliet, how my brother and my sisters and I always used to fight for the front seat of the car on whatever kind of trip we were taking.  It could have been an out of town excursion up to Gurnee to see my aunt and uncle or just around the corner to the grocery store, but if there was more than one of us going along there was bound to be a battle for the coveted “front seat”.  Sometimes those battles were short and victory was decided quickly when one of us would grasp the advantage of foresight and yell “front seat!” as soon as mom or dad announced the trip.  Other times the battles were drawn out, the “calling” of the front seat happening almost simultaneously, usually resulting in a mad rush to the car door knowing that the unspoken rule was that if there was a tie in calling it, whoever got there first could claim victory.

          Sometimes, however, that victory would be short-lived.  Depending on where we were going, we might pick up my grandma or one of my aunts, thus deposing the victor of his or her throne and relegating him or her to the back (sometimes even to the “way-back” if we were driving the old station wagon with the rearward facing back seat).  If the victory had been hard-won, this move to the back was a disgraceful moment and the other siblings who tasted the bitterness of the loss had no sympathy for the now deposed victor: often forcing him or her to sit on the “hump seat” in the middle and thus serving him or her a healthy serving of “humble pie”.

          (By the way, since kids these days practically have to be driving themselves before they can even approach the front seat of a car, I feel justified in labeling my experience “back in the day”, even though I am still quite young.)

          I don’t think that it is much of a stretch to say that Jesus is teaching a similar lesson today.  In a way he is saying that if you try to take prestige and honor (thus exalting yourself) you will likely fall from it when one who is more deserving arrives.  His lesson is that we should instead learn humility and practice it before we are humiliated for having stepped beyond our station in life.  For my brother and sisters and I, we witnessed this when, after grandma or auntie was dropped off, my mother would choose someone to sit in the front seat for the return home.  Needless to say, it almost never was the one who fought tooth and nail to win the right to sit there in the first place.  Speaking of my experience alone, I remember being happier about having the front seat in those moments than if I had won the position outright.  Thus, practicing humility in this way reminds us of something: that all that we have is gift. ///

          Recently I encountered the story of Amy; a mom probably in her late 30’s or early 40’s who has three children.   She relates how she and her husband, not long after getting married, decided to move from their suburban home to a more rural setting.  The move was a very smooth one and both Amy and her husband found jobs right away making everything seem like it had worked out just fine.  After a couple of years, however, when the economy tanked, both Amy and her husband lost their jobs.  Obviously this was a big blow to the young family.  Amy relates that, while she never lost faith in the statement “God will provide”, she did start to question how exactly he would provide.  “Maybe God’s providence won’t include health insurance or a job or lights next week” she thought to herself.  In that she came to a realization that she said changed her whole perspective: that if all of these things that we claim to be our own in this world—our houses, our jobs, our insurance, even our family members and friends—can be lost or taken away from us, then none of it was ever really ours to begin with; and that, thus, everything must be gift.  Everything. ///

          In the reading from the book of Sirach today, it states “conduct your affairs with humility…” and “…into things beyond your strength, search not.”  For Amy and her family, this meant accepting that the gifts they had been given had been taken away and that to claim somehow that they were entitled to restitution was a false notion.  For Amy this acceptance was a freeing experience; for she knew that she no longer had to scratch and claw to keep what she had, but rather could remain detached from it: receiving it with joy as a gift when it came and letting it go to others whose need appeared to be greater.  And in doing so she learned something about God’s generosity with us.

          In the second half of the Gospel reading, Jesus exhorts the host of the dinner to consider who he invites to his dinner parties.  Instead of inviting his friends and relatives or wealthy benefactors, Jesus tells him to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind, because these would never be able to repay his kindness and thus he would find favor in the eyes of God.  In making this statement, Jesus is teaching us God-like generosity.  God gives abundantly to us, even though we have no way to possibly repay him.  Therefore, we must do the same.

          Many families are in the same position as Amy’s family was.  They’ve worked to build a secure home for their families only to find that their jobs had been cut because of the recession.  Our Scriptures today, however, show us how to cope with this kind of loss.  If we can see that all that we had was a gift—i.e. that it wasn’t something that we were necessarily entitled to—then we can give thanks, even though we no longer enjoy the gift.  And if we can see what we still have as a gift, then we can give thanks for it, too; and we will be open to sharing that gift generously with others, especially those who may have no means to repay us.  By doing so, we humble ourselves and thus make ourselves available to be exalted by God’s generosity to us.

          This weekend our nation celebrates our labor by taking a national day of rest.  I’m sure many of you will either host or participate in cookouts or other celebrations.  Perhaps in light of Jesus’ words today we should ask ourselves two questions: “Who have we invited?” and “Who have we left out?”  My brothers and sisters, as God has invited us—who are poor, crippled, lame, and blind—here to this banquet of grace—a banquet that we could never hope to reciprocate—we, too, must invite those who are far from us—those on the margins of society, as Pope Francis calls them—to enjoy the many gifts that have been bestowed upon us: most especially this gift of the Holy Eucharist.  Let us set ourselves to this good work, then, and let us invoke the help of the humble Virgin Mary, who always comes to the aid of her poor children, so that we, too, may know God’s favor now and eternal blessedness in heaven.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 31^st and September 1^st, 2013

Pre-existing conditions...

          Prayer can be both an exhilarating and a frustrating experience.  Exhilarating when it seems like our hearts and our minds are so completely in-tune with God’s that he seems to respond almost directly to whatever it is we ask for: whether that be for help on a test, for wisdom to handle a difficult situation at work (or, perhaps, for that difficult situation to disappear), or for the healing and recovery of a loved one from an illness or an injury.  It can be frustrating when the opposite is true.  Sometimes, no matter how long and hard we pray it seems as if we’re speaking to a brick wall because the only response that we receive is the echo of our own voice.  This can be especially so when we are lost and looking for direction in our lives or when pleading desperately for the healing of a loved one and God doesn’t seem to respond.  For many, the experience of frustration leaves a lasting wound that unfortunately causes them to give up on the effort completely.

I took up this theme for my homily this week.  Prayer is not a task, it is a relationship!

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Homily: 17^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          When I was still a student studying for my engineering degree, I worked at a small manufacturing plant that makes bumpers for semi-trucks.  Whenever I needed to get some maintenance work done I had to submit a “work order” that described what needed to be done and when it needed to be done by.  What I quickly found out, however, was that the maintenance crew was overloaded and that my work orders often sat on a pile of other work orders that weren’t getting completed and that the crew worked on whatever the shop-floor supervisor told them was most important for the day.  Frustrated by this, I would often forego the whole process completely.  If I could just do it myself, I would.  If I couldn’t then I would document it and move on to the next thing.

          I think, sometimes, we can see prayer kind of like a “maintenance work order” system.  We fill out our form and submit it to God and he is supposed to put his crew to work to take care of it for us.  When it works, we feel satisfied.  God is there for us and we can rely on him.  When it doesn’t seem to work, we feel frustrated.  God is unreliable and so if we want this to be taken care of we either need to do it ourselves or just accept that we’ve been dealt a bad hand and that there’s nothing we can do about it.  Of course there’s more to prayer than just making requests of God, but I think you’d be surprised to find out how many people turn away from God on account of feeling like God had let them down when they felt like they most needed him to respond.  In today’s readings, we are given a model of this type prayer that can help us understand it more deeply, which is good; because when we understand it more deeply, we are less likely to become frustrated by its results.

          In our Gospel reading, Jesus’ disciples observe him in prayer and, probably quite innocently, ask him, their teacher, to teach them how to pray.  As Jesus often does, however, when he’s given an inch, he takes a mile and he not only teaches them how to pray (i.e. the correct words and manner in which to pray), but he teaches them the pre-conditions for prayer as well.

          As presented to us today, prayer in which we ask something from God has three basic characteristics: 1) be humble; 2) ask for a just thing; and 3) be persistent.  First: be humble.  As Jesus taught his disciples and as Abraham shows us today, our first task is always to recognize who it is we are addressing and what our relationship to him is.  Abraham was bold, but before he pushed God on the issue he first acknowledged that God knew better than he and so would submit to his judgments.  When we pray as Jesus taught us and say “Our Father…” we too acknowledge our relationship to God: that is, that he has wisdom and authority that is far greater than ours and so deserves our deference to his judgments.

          Second: ask for a just thing.  Abraham was a righteous man and so he could see the inherent conflict in the notion that God—who purports to be the just judge—would destroy innocent people for the sake of punishing those who are guilty and so he pleads, in a sense, for the lives of the innocent who live there by testing the limits of God’s justice.  In the example that Jesus gives, the man, though he comes at midnight, asks for a just thing: some bread to feed his friend that had just arrived from a journey, which, on account of the customs surrounding hospitality in the ancient Jewish culture, was something that he was expected to provide.

          Third: be persistent.  Abraham rightly saw that if God would withhold his wrath for the lives of fifty innocent men that justice would demand that he do the same if the number were as low as ten; and so he asked again and again, not presuming he knew better than God, but so as to see if God’s idea of justice lined up with his.  His persistence produced a commitment from God to spare the city (of, presumably, thousands of people) if even ten innocent persons were found there.  In Jesus’ example, the man, because he asks for a just thing, and because his friend is, also (presumably) a righteous person, receives what he asks for even in spite of the inconvenience he has caused his friend.  Notice that there was no conflict with what was asked for; because what was asked for was a just thing.  Part of being humble, however, means acknowledging that what we are asking for may not necessarily be the just thing.  Therefore, we must always be open to being shown that what we’ve asked for is not what is truly needed and so be open to receiving a different response in its place.

          Be humble, ask for a just thing, and be persistent.  These are the three characteristics of prayers of petition.  What is not often acknowledged in this lesson on prayer, however, is the necessary pre-condition for making this type of prayer.  Simply stated, this type of prayer requires a pre-existing relationship.

          I have a very good friend, named Joe, who I used to work with when I worked as an engineer.  We used to car-pool to work together and through that and our work our relationship grew.  To this day I am very close with his family and am godfather to his oldest son.  Over my years in the seminary, I called on him multiple times, usually when he was not expecting it, to ask for some sort of help.  I never had any fear calling on him because I knew that what I was asking for was a good thing and that, because of our friendship, he’d be very willing to offer his help.  Even if he was resistant, at first, I knew that I could push on him for it because he could be relied upon to respond if he was able; even if it would be inconvenient for him or his family.  I could only do that, however, because I had built a relationship with him first.

          The same applies to our prayers of petition.  When we’ve spent time with God, building our relationship with him, we become much more apt to turn to him with our needs and also to trust that, even if his response seems to be long-delayed, that he will respond and give us what it is that we need (even if that isn’t exactly what we asked for).

          There’s a saying that states that God responds to prayers of petition in one of three ways: “Ok”, “Ok, but not now”, and “Ok, but I have a better idea”.  When we build a relationship with God through spending time with him in the sacraments, in private prayer, and in reading the Bible, we become both bold in bringing to God all of our needs and also open to hearing which of these three responses he offers us when we turn to him.

          My brothers and sisters, our Good God wants us to turn to him with all of our needs, big and small, because he truly is our Father who loves us dearly.  Like any good father, however, he wants even more to be in a close, intimate relationship with us, so that we may learn to trust that, even if he does not appear to respond immediately or in the way we desire, he will nonetheless respond: in the way and at the time that we truly need it.  Let us, then, renew our commitment to draw close to him today and to turn to him for all of our needs; for his promise to remain near to us—the sacrifice of his Son—is already here at hand.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 28^th, 2013

A dangerous proposition...

It has been a pretty busy weekend with a lot of wonderful things!  I didn't have nearly the time I would have liked to refine my homily to really punch home the point, but I think it did ok.  Take a look below and let me know if you've had an experience like I described (especially if it involved God!).

Lent starts this week!  If you haven't started planning your Lent yet then get on it!  Nobody starts a training program without first having a plan.  Remember, it's about taking your relationship with God to the next level.  Put yourself out there and God will not disappoint!

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Homily: 5th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

If you’ve ever had the experience of being “blindsided”, then you’ll know that it’s an experience that you’re never likely to forget.  Now I’m not talking about being physically blindsided, like in your car or something (though I don’t doubt that such an experience would be just as hard to forget); rather, I’m talking about the experience of being blindsided in life.
Many of us, perhaps, have had the experience where we’ve been “cruising” along in life and everything seems to be going pretty well.  Then one day someone or something breaks into our lives and drops the proverbial “bomb” on us that, seemingly in an instant, changes everything.
I had such an experience about seven years ago, which led to my entering into the seminary.  I had spent a couple of years discerning on and off (mostly off, I should admit) about entering the seminary when I met a really great young woman named Bridget and we started dating.  Aside from one little glitch in the first few weeks of our relationship things were going really well between us and I was feeling happy and as if this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Bridget’s mom didn’t live in Indiana and so it wasn’t until about five months into our relationship that I actually had the opportunity to meet her.  That really didn’t go so well for me.  Bridget’s mom (and this is to say nothing negative about her, but rather just to report the facts) saw some things that she didn’t like about me and, like any good mom would, she passed those observations onto her daughter.  These things blindsided Bridget to the point that it made her start to re-think our relationship, which, of course, then blindsided me.  In the end, after much prayer and discernment, Bridget and I realized that we were both missing something; that, in fact, I was missing something… and something big: God’s call to the priesthood.
Being “blindsided” by something in life always functions as kind of a wake-up call.  While it is almost never a pleasant experience, it almost always opens our eyes to something that we’ve been missing.  Sometimes that thing is clear right away—like when a friend tells you that the way you treated them last week really hurt them, even though in all honesty you were oblivious to the fact.  As soon as you hear this from your friend, you see right away what you had been missing.  Other times, however (like in my story above), it takes a little while to see clearly what exactly it is that we have been missing.  In either case, it is always a sobering and humbling experience that often times demands some course of action from us.
In our readings today, we see multiple examples of this.  Isaiah, the humble prophet from Israel, has a vision in which he was standing before the throne of God.  When the Seraphim cried “Holy” and the house shook, Isaiah suddenly realized how unworthy he was to be in God’s presence: that he was unclean in the sight of perfect purity.  When the Seraphim brought the coal and purified him by touching it to his lips, Isaiah realized that he had been missing something.  The vision had “blindsided” him and he now knew that he was being called by God for something.  Thus, when God called out for a messenger Isaiah responded without hesitation: “Here I am, send me!”
Saint Paul thought that he was acting righteously the more that he zealously persecuted Christians.  Of course we all know the story of how God “knocked him off of his horse” (which is a great image for us, even though the accounts in Scriptures never mention that Paul was riding a horse).  God blindsided him so hard that it literally made Saint Paul blind.  After he made his way to Damascus and met with Ananias his eyes were opened and he could see exactly what he was missing.  As a result (and as we heard today), he turned back and began to preach the very things that he had been persecuting Christians for preaching: that Christ died for our sins, that he was buried, and that he rose again, all in accord with the Scriptures.
Finally, Saint Peter’s experience is probably the most relatable of all.  As the Gospel recounts it, Peter was just going about his daily business when this teacher shows up and asks if he would take him out off of the shore a little bit so as to teach the people better.  When this teacher then suggested he cast out his nets into the deep waters, Peter found something he wasn’t expecting.  As he pulled in the super-abundant catch, his eyes were opened and he saw what he was missing about this teacher.  Like Isaiah, he immediately recognized his unworthiness.  Also like Isaiah, he was immediately purified and given his mission.
Perhaps more than a few of us have had the experience of being blindsided by God.  My guess is that even though they were probably distressing, disorientating, and frustrating experiences that in the end they turned out to very positive experiences, leading those of you who have had them to a deeper and more fulfilling experience of life.
My brothers and sisters, if you’ve never had the experience of being “blindsided” by God; or if you’ve never seriously consulted God about decisions you’ve made or directions you’ve taken in your lives, then I guarantee you that you are missing out on something in your life that is part of God’s plan for your happiness and it’s high time for you to give God a chance to show you what it is.
Therefore, I’m going to ask you all to do something a little bit dangerous.  Actually, this is great because Lent is right around the corner and this would be a perfect addition to your prayer routine for that season.  What I want you to do is, during your regular prayer time (and if you don’t have a regular prayer time, I want you to make a regular prayer time), ask God to show you what it is that you are missing about his will for your life.  Then (and this is the dangerous part), I want you to promise him that whatever it is you’ll do it.
My brothers and sisters, if you do these two things—coupled with a healthy dose of fasting and abstinence so as to build your fortitude to actually carry out what God reveals to you—I promise you that on Easter your life will look different and in a very good way.  And so as we come here today to give thanks to God for all of his gifts, let us show him our thanks by placing our trust in him, as Christ placed his trust in the Father in the garden of Gethsemane, so that we, too, might receive the same gift of glory that Christ received, the glory that he now shares with us in this holy meal.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 10th, 2013