True and Lasting Happiness Restored

Homily: The Nativity of the Lord (Mass During the Day) – Cycle A

I’ve been a priest for over seven years now and if there’s one thing that I’ve learned it’s that only the most sophisticated folks show up for Christmas Mass.  Looking out over the congregation, it appears that my observations hold true.  Therefore, I feel like it would be pretty safe to bring up the Greek philosopher Aristotle without getting too far above anybody’s head, and so here we go.

          One of the core things that Aristotle taught was that all living things have an end for which they are striving—a telos in Greek.  For example, by his observation, a plant is striving for the sun.  He could see this by the way that a plant will stretch out its leaves way beyond its roots in an effort to reach the rays of the sun.  We, of course, know that the plant needs the rays of the sun to hit its leaves for photosynthesis to happen, in which it converts the energy from the sun’s rays into nutrients to help it grow, but it doesn’t change the fact that the living spirit in the plant—the anima, if you will—is striving always towards the sun as if reaching it was its ultimate purpose.

          Now, I think that we can all agree that we human beings are little more complex than a plant.  Nonetheless, Aristotle still thought that we have a telos: an end to which we are striving.  When Aristotle observed human beings in order to determine for what it is that we are striving, he concluded that the end we are all trying to reach is happiness.  In other words, when he looked at the reasons why human beings do anything, he could see that all of them boiled down to one thing: happiness.  Simply stated: everything that we choose to do, we choose because we think that it will make us happy.  We, of course, could be wrong about whether or not it will make us happy, but the fact remains that we choose it because we think that it will make us happy.

          Saint Thomas Aquinas lived a little more than 1500 years after Aristotle, but he was one of the first to truly synthesize Aristotle’s philosophy into Christian theology.  Saint Thomas agreed that human beings have a telos, and that this telos is happiness.  Because Thomas was a Christian, however, he could tell us that the truest and fullest happiness for which we can strive—the happiness for which we were made—is what Christian theologians call the Beatific Vision: that is, standing face to face with God, in perfect communion with him.  Therefore, because of Saint Thomas, we now have a criterion from which to decide whether or not what we choose is what will truly make us happy: because if what we choose moves us closer to the Beatific Vision, then it truly will make us happy; and if it doesn’t, well then it won’t.

And so, why do I bring this up here today?  It’s because of this.  For the last month, we’ve covered our lives with the sheen of “Christmas Spirit”.  Lights, trees, shopping, parties, lots of food, lots of drinks... in other words, we’ve covered our lives with a spirit of celebration.  Yet, in spite of what all of the songs on the radio, your spotify playlist, or in stores and restaurants say (…It’s the most wonderful time of the year...) … in spite of what all of these songs say, underneath it all we realize that we really aren’t happy.  Sure, for a few days (maybe even a few weeks) we’ll feel good: connecting with family, reminiscing about old times, enjoying the exchange of presents (especially watching the joy and excitement of children opening gifts), and a day or two (or more) off work can truly give us a sense of comfort amidst the toils and labors of our lives.  By the time January 1^st rolls around, however, all of those good feelings have mostly vanished, and we’re left with the toils and labors, perhaps with few “fleeting flashes of perfect” mixed in.  When this reality settles back in, once again we’ll have to confront the fact that we really aren’t happy.

My friends, this is really important to say on this Christmas Day, because the truth of the matter is that, since the fall of man (the first sin of Adam and Eve), NOBODY HAS BEEN TRULY HAPPY!  Ever since the fall, mankind has sought his happiness in the world and has always come up short.  While we can be temporarily successful, none of us is capable of achieving true and lasting happiness by our own efforts.  Why?  Well, because (as Saint Thomas taught us) our only lasting happiness is the Beatific Vision—seeing God face to face.  This means a return to the Garden of Eden, where Adam and Eve walked in communion with God.  Sin caused them to be expelled from the garden, and a great chasm between us and our happiness appeared: a chasm that mankind can never bridge himself.

Therefore, if, underneath all of this “holiday sheen”, there’s a gnawing in you that says, “Is this all there is?” or “It’s too bad that this is all going to end soon”, well then I’ve got good news for you: You’re normal!  You’re a human being, searching for your telos, your true and lasting happiness, and no amount of tinsel and lights and cookies and egg nog and corny songs and tacky sweater parties can satisfy the longing for happiness in you!  Only perfect communion with God can provide that.  To this, I have still more good news: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”  This is what we celebrate tonight: not that we made it back to God, but that God came to us to bring us back to himself—to save us from our unhappiness so that we could return to life with him.

This, my brothers and sisters, is why we are bold to speak the words of Isaiah in the Mass: “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings glad tidings, announcing peace, bearing good news, announcing salvation, and saying to Zion, ‘Your God is King!’ … Break out together in song, O ruins of Jerusalem! For the LORD comforts his people, he redeems Jerusalem … all the ends of the earth will behold the salvation of our God.”  My friends, God our Lord has come to comfort us, his people, by redeeming us from our sin which separated us from him!  Why, then, do we keep looking for happiness in the ethereal... in the aesthetic... in the “sheen” of Christmas?

My friends, the prologue to John’s Gospel, which we heard today, reminds us of this wonderful truth that God, who existed before all time, made all created things through his Son, the Divine Word; and, when his creation went astray and in the fullness of time (meaning, when the time was right), his Son came into the world to be our redemption and, thus, to restore us to our true and lasting happiness.  In the generations since his birth, however, we have often allowed ourselves to forget that it is through him, Jesus Christ, that we find our true and lasting happiness and thus begin to seek our happiness by our own frustrated efforts again.  The season of Advent reminds us to turn back to the Lord and say, “Come, Lord Jesus!  Save us from this unhappiness!”  And today we gather to say to him, “Praise to you, Lord Jesus, for you have come and you have saved us!”

Friends, I am going to say something to you here and I want you all to look at me and listen.  (Are you looking?)  Nothing—absolutely nothing—that you do this Christmas matters more than what we are doing right now in this church: giving praise to God that he has sent his Son to save us from our unhappiness so that we can find our telos, our true happiness in him.  Let us, therefore, let the wonder and awe of this great mystery—the Son of God appearing in our humanity—envelop us today, so that the happiness of this time might remain with us, even after we return to the labors and toils of our lives, and thus preserve us in faith until Christ, our Mighty King, returns to take us home.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 25^th, 2019

Come, be filled with the joy of the resurrection!

Homily: Easter Sunday – Cycle C

Halleluiah, we made it!  After forty days of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, here we are on Easter Sunday.  What a joy it is to be here with all of you: my still new family in Christ.  Like any good engineer, however, I’m never content just to arrive at my destination.  Rather, there’s always a little part of me that wants to look back at where I’ve been and how I arrived here in order to see if I accomplished all that I had set out to accomplish.  I think that it is a valuable thing for us to do on Easter Sunday: kind of like looking over photos from a trip as soon as you get home so that you don’t quickly forget the experiences you had.

To begin, let’s go back to Ash Wednesday, all the way back on March 6^th.  There we heard Christ call us to repent from our sins and to believe in the Gospel and I encouraged you to look hard at what your Lenten fasts would be to ensure that they produced more than just forty days of punishment, but that they would also produce in you a sense of detachment.

Then, on the first Sunday of Lent, we recounted how Christ modeled for us what our forty days of fasting should produce in us.  He spent forty days in the desert, fasting and praying; and the Scriptures tell us that when he emerged from the desert, he was hungry (Duh!).  What Jesus realized during that time of fasting and prayer was that it wasn’t food or other worldly things that he wanted, but rather it was communion with God towards which all of his desires were pointing.  Therefore, when the devil tempted him to change rocks into bread, to worship him so he could have dominion over the kingdoms of the world, and to put God to the test by throwing himself off of the parapet, Jesus could resist him.  His fasting had led him to detachment from any desire for these worldly things.

A couple of weeks later, if you were with us for the celebration of the scrutinies, we heard about the Samaritan woman whom Jesus meets at the well.  Poor woman was just trying to get to the well and get home without running into anybody, but there was Jesus ready to flip her world upside down.  Jesus innocently asks for a cup of water, but when the woman questions him about asking a Samaritan for something, Jesus reveals to her the real reason why he is there: he tells her that if she knew who she was talking to that she would be asking him for water, because the water he would give would never leave her thirsty again.  What Jesus was revealing to her was that what she was really looking for couldn’t be found in husbands or in a well, but that it was sitting there right in front of her: that what she really thirsted for was to know God and that this knowledge alone would satisfy her thirst.

While I could go on picking out other examples from our Scripture readings from these past seven weeks, I won’t.  Hopefully, however, for these last forty days, this has been the work that we have been doing: removing the “old yeast” of malice and wickedness, as Saint Paul describes it today, so that we can celebrate this feast with the “unleavened bread” of sincerity and truth.  Hopefully, by our fasting and almsgiving we’ve been detaching ourselves from the things of this world: things that only provide a temporary satisfaction.  And hopefully through our prayer—which is where we meet God like that woman did at the well—Jesus has been showing us what it is that we are truly thirsting for.  And so, hopefully, you find yourself today like Jesus did when he emerged from the desert and like the woman did when she encountered him at the well: hungry and thirsty for what truly satisfies.

If you’ve done your work well, then you probably feel a sense of freedom from whatever it is that you gave up.  Thus, you won’t be easily tempted to go back to it now that Lent is finished.  If, however, you haven’t done this work so well, then you’re probably looking forward to getting out of this Mass as quickly as you can so that you can indulge again in whatever it was that you sacrificed for the last forty days.  Either way, I can tell you that the hunger that all of us are feeling today—the hunger that we are left with after forty days of fasting—is not a hunger for worldly things (although it may feel that way); rather, it is a hunger for God.

Saint Augustine famously wrote: “Our hearts are restless, O Lord, until they rest in you.”  I think that he could have just as easily said the same thing if he would have said: “We are always hungry, O Lord, until our hungers are satisfied in you.”  And so, whether you have used this time of Lent well or poorly (or not at all), I can tell you that whatever hunger you feel inside of you today is truly a hunger for God and only communion with him will truly satisfy it.

Now, I’m enough of a realist to realize that some of us here see this and some of us don’t.  Those who see it are here today rejoicing with full hearts and full voice that God has not left us alone to die in our sin, but rather that through the resurrection of his Son he has redeemed us so that our hungers can be satisfied.  Maybe, however, that’s only a few of us.  Perhaps, though, many of us have gotten a glimpse of this during Lent and so come here today with great hope that something new is happening in our lives that can move us towards finding meaning and purpose in all that we do.  Yet I am sure that there are still some of us here who just don’t see it at all.  And you know what?  That’s ok.  Because we are all here today, just like Jesus’ disciples were all together on the first Easter.  And we are all hearing the same news—the joyful, compelling, and confounding news: He is risen!

And so regardless of where you find yourself today, the Good News is that He is risen and for the next fifty days we will be feasting on the joy of this day, and everyone is welcome to join in this feast from wherever it is that you are at.  This feast is truly the foretaste of heaven: for it is the joy that on this day nearly two-thousand years ago Jesus the Christ of God rose from the dead and conquered sin and death forever, restoring our communion with God and making it so that we can all truly live in harmony and peace.

My brothers and sisters, if you have been waiting for your invitation to join into this feast, then here it is.  Whatever it is that compelled you to be here today, know that God wanted you to be here and that he invites you to experience the richness of this banquet that he has prepared for you—for all of us—from before time began.  He knows that each and every one of us is hungry and he longs to satisfy that hunger.   Therefore, lift up your hearts to experience the satisfaction that only he can give: the union of love that he offers us here in this Eucharist.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 21^st, 2019

Sin still matters

Homily: 26^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

Friends, as we continue our journey through Ordinary Time—the time in the Liturgical Year in which we focus on growing as missionary disciples—we are reminded of important truths that help keep us on track.  A full six months removed from Lent and Easter—in which we focused on acknowledging our sin and worked towards repentance—this Sunday the Church gives us a reminder that sin still matters, even when it isn’t Lent.

In the second reading today, Saint James issues a stern warning to the rich who have taken unjust advantage of those less fortunate than them.  He lays their sins before them and prophesies that the comforts and excesses that they are enjoying now God has permitted so as to “fatten their hearts” for the coming slaughter.  He is warning them because they have become complacent in their sin and because God will not overlook their injustices on the Day of Judgment.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus is just as deliberate and graphic.  He instructs his disciples to be vigilant against sin.  In fact, another way to describe Jesus’ teaching using some of our more modern parlance would be to say that Jesus instructs his disciples to be intolerant of sin.  God has laid down a law that must be obeyed and to choose against that law is to choose against God himself and will result in eternal separation from God, which will be the cause of eternal suffering; and so Jesus tells his disciples: “Be intolerant of sin!  If your hand causes you to sin, CUT. IT. OFF!  If your eye causes you to sin, PLUCK. IT. OUT!  Failure to do so will condemn you to a place of eternal suffering: much like being in the middle of the unquenchable fire of Gehenna.”

Gehenna, for those of you who may not know, is not just another name for Hell.  Gehenna was an actual place outside the walls of Jerusalem.  It was a valley on the outskirts of the city that had been used for human sacrifice in Old Testament times by the evil rulers of the Israelites who worshiped pagan Gods.  By the time of Christ, the valley had become a huge, outdoor public incinerator, of sorts, in which trash and refuse, including the dead bodies of animals and criminals, were thrown and eventually consumed by a smoldering fire that was constantly kept burning.  Obviously, this was not a pleasant place to be around; and, having seen it, Jesus’ disciples knew that this was not a place that you could imagine yourself living for all eternity.

Thus, the extreme images that Jesus uses to describe how intolerant one should be of sin in his or her life.  Sin is a deadly thing, in spite of the lies that Satan will tell you about it.  (Remember Genesis?  “You certainly won’t die...” the serpent said to Eve.)  Thus, Jesus, and Saint James after him, are adamant that sin be rooted out of our lives down to the very source.  Are they trying to scare us into conforming?  Well, yes.  Elsewhere Jesus will say, “Do not fear the one who can kill the body, but rather the one who has the power to send you into the everlasting fires” (Mt. 10:28).  If our goal in life is to make it to eternal life with God (and it is, by the way), then we should fear ever committing any sin that would keep us from achieving that goal; and, therefore, remove anything from our lives that leads us into sin.

In these past couple of months, some serious wounds have been reopened and we are facing once again the hurt and suffering that tolerated sin causes.  The sins of sexual abuse by anyone, but especially by the clergy of the Church, produce lasting effects that, for the victim of abuse, can make him/her feel as if he/she is already living in Gehenna: a horrible wasteland in which a never-ending fire consumes him/her.  With hindsight we can see that even one instance of this being tolerated is horrible (though we shouldn’t have needed hindsight to see that).  Nonetheless, these bigger sins were tolerated because many, much smaller sins of unchastity (and, in the case of the clergy, unfaithfulness to one’s promise of chastity) were tolerated for many years.  Like a cancer, the toleration of even one of these sins puts the whole body at risk for destruction.

Sad, though, how we wouldn’t hesitate to submit ourselves to treatment to eliminate cancer—treatment that often entails significant suffering and sacrifice—yet we look at sin and tell ourselves “Meh, it’s not that bad... I’ll be fine.”  Friends, just as the Church is in real need of chemotherapy to cleanse Christ’s Body of these cancerous tumors that have threatened to destroy it, so too each of us.  Millions of women have gone through mastectomies in the hope that, by removing this important part of their bodies, the cancer that threatens their lives will be removed completely.  How quickly we respond to doctors who urge us to act so as to prevent pain and suffering in this world (let alone, death), yet we refuse to respond to Jesus, the Divine Physician, who urges us to act so as to prevent eternal pain and suffering (that is, eternal death) in the world to come.

My brothers and sisters, sin still matters.  When we tolerate sin—even small sin—in our lives, we allow a cancer to grow within us—silent and sinister: a cancer that destroys us from the inside.  To root sin out, we must subject ourselves to intense therapy: fasting, prayer, and frequent treatments through the sacraments of Penance and Holy Eucharist; and we must be honest with ourselves about whether relationships and circumstances in our lives are leading us into occasions of sin—that is, occasions for us to act against God and his Divine Law and against our neighbor—and thus we must eliminate them.  Anything short of this leaves us in danger of being cast into the eternal fires of Hell.

I myself have voluntarily taken on a regimen of mortification over these last few months meant to help me root out the sources of sin in my own life and to make reparation for my sins and the sins of my fellow priests and bishops.  I will not prescribe one for all of you, but I do invite each of you to consider what you might voluntarily fast from so as to conquer the root of a pernicious sin in your own life.  By each of us taking responsibility for our own sins and by supporting each other in our efforts (accountability partners are great things!), we’ll begin to see that the larger, systemic sins in our Church and in our society are being rooted out as well.

Let us take courage, then, my brothers and sisters, to take up (or continue) this good work; so that we might discover what our Responsorial Psalm tells us today: that “the precepts of the Lord give joy to the heart”: the eternal joy made possible for us by Jesus’ sacrifice.  The sacrifice that is made present to us here on this altar.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – September 29^th & 30^th, 2018

The Risen Christ removes blindness

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Easter – Cycle B

          One of the common threads that seems to run through our readings today is the idea that Christ’s Resurrection is the light that takes away blindness.  In the first reading, Peter is speaking to the crowd who had gathered around him and the Apostle John after they had healed the crippled man near Solomon’s Portico just outside the temple.  We hear Peter accuse the crowd of having “denied the Holy and Righteous One” and having put to death the “author of life”.  Then, in a turn of mercy, he acknowledges that they “acted out of ignorance” and assures them that, if they repent, their sins will be wiped away by the very same “Holy and Righteous One” whom they denied.  In other words, when they denied him, they were blinded by their ignorance, but now see the fullness of Christ, risen from the dead, and his saving power.  Thus, they can turn to him and receive forgiveness.

          In the Gospel reading, we hear how Peter and the Apostles were the first (or maybe second) to be enlightened by the risen Christ.  There the disciples from Emmaus to whom the Risen Christ appeared and was made known in the breaking of bread, have returned to Jerusalem and are recounting their encounter with the Risen Christ.  “While they were still speaking about this,” the Gospel records for us, Jesus appeared in their midst, rebukes them for their unbelief in the resurrection, and then “[opens] their minds to understand the Scriptures” about how the Christ had to suffer and die and then rise to fulfill what was written.  In spite of what Jesus told his disciples before his Passion, Death, and Resurrection, it took his risen presence to take away their blindness so that they might see the full truth of his teaching.

          In the second reading, the words of the Apostle John also aim at opening the eyes of its readers.  Our reading begins with John saying “I am writing this to you so that you may not commit sin.”  In other words, “so that you may recognize sin and, thus, avoid it.”  Then, like with Peter in the first reading, we hear him announce God’s mercy: saying, in effect, “If, in your ignorance, you have sinned, don’t despair; because Jesus is our Advocate before the Father and he has expiated our sins.”  In other words, “If you have sinned because of blindness, be blind no longer and turn to Christ who will advocate on your behalf before the Father.”  For John, it is Christ, risen from the dead, that gives light and hope to those who had been blind in their sin, just as it was for the crowd that listened to Peter that afternoon in Jerusalem, and just as it was for the disciples gathered in the Upper Room on that first Easter.

          And so, why is this important to note today?  Because it will be important to remember in the coming years as it will become necessary to propose once again these great truths to a generation who has largely turned away from it.

          Newspaper columnist Terry Mattingly recently reflected on Europe’s woes regarding young adults and religion.  He specifically quotes Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI who, while still Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, noted that the trend in Europe meant that the Church would be “reduced in its dimensions” making it “necessary to start again.”  Here, nearly 20 years later, we see this playing out in Europe.  A recent study showed that, in 12 of 22 European nations polled, over half of 16-29 year olds claim no religious affiliation whatsoever.  In 18 of these 22 nations less than 10 percent of young adults admit to attending religious services on a weekly basis (this includes all religions, not just Catholicism).

          According to the report’s author, a key to understanding this shift is to acknowledge that “nominal” or “cultural” faith doesn’t transfer from one generation to the next.  Which means that, if this generation’s parents are Christians “in name” only—perhaps believing in a "vaguely benevolent 'Something' out there"—then their children’s generation is likely to cut ties with religion, rather than continue the charade.  Again, this seems to be playing out: in an extremely pronounced way in Europe, but also here in the United States.  If this trend continues, Mattingly notes, “the future that Pope Benedict predicted, that a smaller church would have to return to basics”, will become a reality.  In this reality, according to the retired Pope, believers will once again have to be missionaries and to “propose again … the questions on God, salvation, hope, life, especially what has a basic ethical value."

          This is where these lessons from today’s Scriptures come in.  Many of these young people—and, of course, many of the adults—who have strayed from the faith will, at some point, “hit a wall”, so to speak.  Having lived a life of what Benedict XVI has called “practical atheism”—in which God is not explicitly denied, but one’s life reflects no consideration of God—many will find it empty and will begin searching for answers.  Our job will be to be there and to propose again the hard, yet merciful truth that Jesus proposed to his disciples when he said: “How could you doubt?  Look at how this fulfilled everything that the Scriptures proposed”; and that Peter proposed to the crowd when he said: “You killed the author of life!  But if you repent you will find forgiveness”; and that John proposed to the early Church when he said: “Those who say ‘I know him’, but don’t follow his commandments are liars!  But those who sin have an Advocate in Jesus”.  If we have been faithful witnesses—not just in word, but in action—then these persons, their blindness lifted, will turn back to the Lord and the Church will begin to grow again.

          This is why today I want to encourage you to study closely the Acts of the Apostles during this Easter season.  Just as Lent was our time of preparation to celebrate the Resurrection, so should Easter be our time of preparation to re-propose the Gospel to a generation that is abandoning it; and studying how the early Church proposed the Gospel the first time will be a great way to prepare.

          Friends, the joy of the resurrection and the promise that Jesus is our advocate—two things which are renewed each time we celebrate this Eucharist—will be our strength to fulfill this good work.  So let us take it up, trusting that Christ, whose light broke through the darkness of death, can break through the blindness of those around us and bring them to new life.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 15^th, 2018

Saved through our humanity: REJOICE!

Homily: Christmas (Vigil Mass) – Cycle B

          Believe it or not, this is now the sixth Christmas that I am celebrating with you all here at All Saints.  I have to say that I have been very blessed by my ministry here.  Of the many blessings, one unexpected blessing has been the richness that the cultural diversity of this community brings to my ministry.  Serving this community that combines Anglo and Latino cultures (as well as, to a lesser extent, Philippino, Vietnamese, and Burmese cultures among others) has given me a more profound experience of who we are as Church; and I know that many of you share that same appreciation.

          One of the things that I have noticed about Catholics here in the United States is that the way that we pray and worship is often very different than the way that Latinos and other cultures pray and worship.  Catholics in the United States have been heavily influenced by British Protestantism, in particular the British Puritans that first came and settled here in this land.  Protestants, inspired by teachers like Martin Luther, wanted to turn away from many of the medieval devotional practices that were common in the 16^th century (such as: praying rosaries, lighting candles before images of the saints, making novenas, and the like—all with the understanding that “more, for the sake of more, is better” whenever you do it).

          These practices (from the outside, at least) seemed like they were aimed at “earning” grace from God.  Martin Luther knew that we cannot “earn” grace from God, but rather that God freely gives it, and so he began to teach a different style of prayer and worship that focused less on these outwardly extravagant devotional practices and more on inner, spiritual practices: namely, the reading of and meditating on the Scriptures and listening to the Word of God proclaimed and explained in assembly together.

          And we see this influence on United States Catholicism here today.  Anglo celebrations of the Mass are often rather subdued.  The people sit quietly, respond reservedly, and otherwise try not to make a lot of noise.  From where I sit, I sometimes feel like I have an audience who are watching my show, instead of a congregation who is actively participating in it.

          I don’t often feel that way when I’m celebrating a Mass in Spanish with Latinos.  With them there is still a very profound sense that the spiritual is inseparably intertwined with the physical.  For them, it is simply not enough to close one’s eyes, fold one’s hands, and pray: “Lord please guard my coming and my going, my front and my back”, but rather one must also bless himself with holy water both on the front and the back sides of his body.  No, it isn’t enough for them to come together to sing songs to Mary before a simple image set up in the corner of the church and at a reasonable hour, such as eight o’clock in the morning; rather, in order to show their devotion to Our Lady, they set up an elaborate “altar” in the front of church and get up in the middle of the night to dress to the nine’s (and their kids, too!) so that they can come to sing her songs long before the sunrise.  Here at Mass, they are generally much more animated than the Anglos.  Their singing and their responses are much more enthusiastic, in general (often with animated clapping along with the rhythm of the music).  The music, itself, is louder and the Mass has more energy, overall.

          Of course, all of this energy and devotional spirit, much like Martin Luther observed in medieval times, can become extreme.  While I was studying Spanish in Guatemala, I observed, particularly at pilgrimage sites, people causing themselves great physical pain as they entered to make their prayer at the shrine.  For example, they would walk on their knees from outside and into the shrine as a sign of their absolute faith that the favor for which they are pleading could be granted.  These are people of great faith, no doubt, but perhaps a reminder about Jesus’ words that we only need faith the size of a mustard seed in order to be able to move mountains, might occasionally be necessary for them.  Nevertheless, I can’t help but appreciate how the Latino culture (and cultures like theirs in many other places around the world) has maintained its sense that the physical is inseparably linked to the spiritual.

          In many ways, today we celebrate this connection.  Today we celebrate the fact that God, who is wholly other, pure spirit, and outside and above our senses, takes on human flesh and makes his dwelling among us.  In doing so, we also celebrate the reason that he came to us: to suffer and to die and to rise again to save us from our sins; for every moment of Jesus’ life here on earth was a preparation for his Passion which won for us our salvation.  This is why we don’t cover up the crucifixes in our Church when we celebrate Christmas: because without the crucifixion, Christmas wouldn’t mean much.

          That notwithstanding, as we celebrate today his coming among us, we emphasize an important truth: that by taking on a human body, with all of its physical limitations, God wanted us to know that we can experience him through our senses.  In fact, what God revealed to us through the incarnation of his Son, and through his Passion, Death, and Resurrection, was that it is precisely through our human bodies that he wishes to save us.

          In the first centuries of the Church, a bishop named Athanasius proposed this simple, but profound truth: that God became man, so that man could become God.  You see, before Jesus, it was possible to make an argument that the body wasn’t necessary to find salvation.  This is because God had not yet revealed fully his plan for the redemption of mankind.  Therefore, it was still possible to believe that God would simply redeem his people by the power of his Almighty Word.  After Jesus’ coming, however, it is no longer possible to make this kind of argument.  Rather, now that Jesus has won salvation for us precisely through his human obedience in the flesh—flesh just like yours and mine!—God’s will that mankind be saved through our human bodies is clear.  And this is good news!  Good news that we are obliged to share.

          Saint Augustine, writing in the fourth century, said this: “[Mankind,] you would have suffered eternal death, had he not been born in time.  Never would you have been freed from sinful flesh, had he not taken on himself the likeness of sinful flesh.  You would have suffered everlasting unhappiness, had it not been for this mercy.  You would never have returned to life, had he not shared your death.  You would have been lost if he had not hastened to your aid.  You would have perished, had he not come.

          “Let us then joyfully celebrate the coming of our salvation and redemption.  Let us celebrate the festive day on which he who is the great and eternal day came from the great and endless day of eternity into our own short day of time. …For what greater grace could God have made to dawn on us than to make his only Son become the son of man, so that a son of man might in his turn become a son of God?”

          My brothers and sisters, there are some people living around us who have not heard this good news (or, perhaps, have chosen to ignore it): that the All-Powerful God has taken on human flesh and come to save us so that we could become like him in our human flesh.  Just look around, none of them are here with us today.  Let us, then, be the ones who bring this message of great joy to them, making our feet “beautiful upon the mountain”, so that “all the ends of the earth will behold the salvation of our God”; the salvation that has been born to us this day.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – December 25^th, 2017

A pure wonder

Homily: 21^st Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          Perhaps we all remember that famous passage in the Gospel when Jesus says, "Unless you turn and become like little children, you shall not enter the Kingdom of God".  What Jesus means by this seems obvious, right?: that salvation involves a return to a state of moral innocence, like children.

          But I think this begs the question a little.  I mean, are children really as innocent as their reputation makes them?  Let’s think about this for a moment.  Infants are some of the most selfish and self-centered people I know!  They will cry and fuss until they get what they want, completely without regard to how their attitude affects others.  And what about toddlers?  Don't toddlers give their parents constant headaches as they stubbornly assert themselves against their parents’ wills (I mean, we don’t call it the “terrible twos” for nothing, right)?  Then, as they get to kindergarten and beyond, they augment their stubborn defiance and begin lying to their parents, don’t they?; and add to it an unrelenting torment of their siblings!  No, I’m not convinced that children are really as innocent as the “media” makes them out to be.

          Perhaps, however, Jesus was referring to a different kind of innocence when he made that statement: not a moral innocence, but an innocence marked by a purity of wonder.  You know, for healthy children, the world is a wonder-filled place.  Sea shells and starlight are both magically mysterious to them; and grasshoppers and green mountains equally inspire fascination and excitement.  And isn't that way it should be?  I mean, isn't that the way that Adam and Eve would have seen the world before original sin: as an inspiring collection of magnificent treasures given to them by their Creator?  I think so, because that's what creation is: a fabulous gift from an all-powerful God who is a wise and loving Father and who wants his children to share in his delight in his creation.

          An attitude of wonder and awe towards God’s gift of life and the created universe is something that has been shared by all the saints.  And it applies not only to natural gifts, but even more to the supernatural gifts of salvation and redemption.  This is why Saint Paul, after spending three chapters of his Letter to the Romans analyzing and explaining the complex twists and turns of salvation history, breaks out into a hymn of wonder and awe: "Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!"  My friends, this is the cry of a childlike, grace-filled heart.  In other words, it is the cry of one who carries a healthy Christian heart.

          In his spontaneous hymn of praise, Saint Paul tells us that God's judgments are "inscrutable" and his ways are "unsearchable."  Now, he doesn’t mean this in a negative sense, but rather in a “wonder-filled” sense as he acknowledges how God was using a creative, unexpected way to bring about the salvation of the Israelite people.  As it turns out, God is always using creative ways to bring about his magnificent plan of salvation.  One of those particularly creative ways is the papacy.

          In today's Gospel passage, Jesus explains that the papacy is the indestructible foundation of his Church.  To emphasize the point, he gives his disciple Simon a new name that symbolizes his ministry as the first pope: "Peter," which is derived from the Greek word petrus, meaning "rock".  As interesting as that is, the setting in which this is taking place only amplifies the situation.  You see, this conversation took place just outside the city of Caesarea Philippi, which was a glorious city that was constructed on the top of a huge hill, one side of which was a towering, bare rock cliff.  This gave the city an appearance both of invincibility and magnificence.  Precisely there, standing near that imposing cliff, Jesus explains that his Church will also be invincible, because it too will be founded on rock: the rock of Peter, the first Pope.  Jesus promised that his Church will be indestructible; and that the "gates of the netherworld" will not prevail against it.  And we see that his promise has come true.

          For the last 20 centuries, we see that the papacy has continued intact.  Even secular encyclopedias (who look at facts, not religious tradition) can trace an unbroken line of succession from Saint Peter, the first pope, up to Francis, our current pope.  At times, we must admit, there have been corrupt, greedy, and weak men occupying the “chair of Peter”, and many emperors, kings, and generals have tried to disrupt the papacy by having popes kidnapped, murdered, and exiled on numerous occasions.  Nonetheless, no pope in history has spoiled the purity of the Gospel or interrupted the flow of God's grace through the sacraments.  Thus we see, that the rock that Jesus established has stood the test of time; and not because of the popes' human qualities, but rather because of the "riches and wisdom and knowledge" of God's divine and truly wonder-filled providential care.  It was an odd plan, to be sure; but our hearts should be filled with wonder for God’s wisdom, because it has worked and will continue to work until the end of time.

          My brothers and sisters, when was the last time that we found ourselves echoing Saint Paul's hymn in our own hearts, being filled with wonder and awe at the thought of God's goodness, wisdom and power?  If it was recently, then that's a good sign.  Evidence of wonder and awe in our hearts is a key vital sign for the healthy Christian soul.

          If your soul is a bit short on wonder and awe, however, it may be a warning sign.  Of course, some people tend to be a bit pessimistic by temperament: it's part of their personality and so external signs of wonder and awe are just “not their thing”.  That's different, however, than the kind of worldly (and sometimes diabolically encouraged) cynicism and skepticism that actually extinguishes the Christian fire in our hearts.  You see, the cynic only laughs at irony and sarcasm and the skeptic only smiles at the failings of his neighbor; but for the healthy Christian, life itself is a source of joy and satisfaction.  In other words, even with all its suffering, life, for the healthy Christian, is a wonder-filled, awe-inspiring thing, because it shows forth the unfathomable "riches and wisdom and knowledge of God" and it reminds us that "from him and through him and for him are all things".  And so, if you don’t have this, perhaps it’s an indicator that you need to return to the basics of the Christian spiritual life: prayer and the sacraments, most especially the sacrament of reconciliation.

          Nevertheless, my brothers and sisters, today, whether our sense of wonder is rickety or robust, let's stir it up during the miracle of this Mass, so as to give God pleasure by enjoying his gifts and to make our Christian hearts healthy so that we might carry this joy into the world around us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 27^th, 2017

Asking for the right thing

Homily: 17^th Sunday, Ordinary Time: Cycle A

          I grew up with an older brother and sandwiched between two sisters.  My brother was the oldest and so I wasn’t all that close to him.  I ended up being closer to my older sister and, being somewhat of a mama’s boy, I often found myself watching things like beauty pageants on TV, because that’s what my mom and my sister wanted to watch.

          I don’t hear much about them anymore, but back in the ‘80s the Miss America, Miss USA, and Miss Universe contests all had that allure of pageantry and glamour that made it all seem fascinating to me.  For me the highlights were the talent portion, where these women would display their incredible abilities to play instruments, to sing, or to dance, and also the evening gown competition, as each tried to outdo the other in having the most luxurious dress.  Then, there was the interview portion, where these women had to respond to questions with extremely complicated answers with poise and alacrity to prove that they could represent the best of our nation (or the world, for that matter) on a world stage.  Inevitably, the “one wish” question would come up.  “If you could have one wish for anything in the world, what would it be?”  After watching a few of these you quickly learned that if a contestant even hinted at wishing for something for themselves, that their chance at winning the crown was gone.  And, as years went on, the answers to these became somewhat rote and always altruistic.  “I would wish that there would be world peace.”  “I would wish for an end to world hunger.”  “I would wish for a cure for cancer.”  While these are all wonderful things to wish for, the fact that they became the “pat” answer to this question made these young women seem to me to be rather fake and inauthentic.

          In today’s first reading, we see God putting King Solomon through a similar “interview” as he is taking over the reins of the kingdom from his father David.  As we hear the dialogue between God and Solomon, we can almost feel the tension building as Solomon discerns what it is that he should ask from God.  Waiting with abated breath we hear his answer: “I wish for ‘an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong.’”  “Wait, ‘an understanding heart’?  He asked for wisdom?  Something for himself?  NO!  He is supposed to ask for world peace or an end to hunger or that everyone in the world would be as rich as he is!  What was he thinking!?!?”  Yet, what do we hear as God’s response?  We hear that God was pleased with his answer… Why?

          Well, first Solomon acknowledged his relationship with God.  He acknowledged that the kingdom that he has been given is really God’s kingdom and that the people he is ruling are really God’s people and that, in actuality, it was God who had made him ruler over his people.  Because he had a relationship with God, Solomon knew that God wasn’t just some divine magician who could be called upon to magically make everything wrong in the world right.  Instead, he knew that God had called him to rule over his people and that God had given him the great responsibility to care for and to provide for his people.  With such a great task—and the shadow of his father, king David, looming over him—Solomon humbly acknowledged that he couldn’t handle this task alone and that he needed God’s help to fulfill the work to which he was calling him.  Thus, he didn’t ask that there would be no problems, but rather that he would have the understanding—the wisdom—to lead his people well in both good times and in bad.  And God was pleased with his answer.

          I think that many days we find ourselves in a similar situation to Solomon yet we hardly recognize it.  Daily we are surrounded by the needs of God’s people and yet (if we manage, first of all, not to ignore them) all we can think to do is to pray that God will wave his hand over the earth and make it all go away.  We fail to recognize that the task of caring for God’s people here on earth has been given to us.  Certainly, God doesn’t need us to care for his people—he is all-powerful and can handle it himself; but in his desire for a relationship with us, he invites us to participate in the work of caring for his people here on earth.  With this in mind, perhaps we can look to the example of Solomon to see how we ought to pray and thus know for what we ought to ask when we come before God with our needs.

          When we come before God we must first acknowledge our relationship with him.  Solomon acknowledged before God that he was God’s servant, called to care for and to rule over God’s people.  And so, we too must acknowledge that God has called each of us to be his servant and has given each of us a particular task in the care of his people.

          Next, our task is to ask God for the understanding to know how he has called us to participate in alleviating the problem or issue that we are bringing before him.  Solomon, recognizing the great responsibility that God had given him, asked for understanding to be able to judge God’s people well and to distinguish right from wrong.  First time parents, I suspect, are quite familiar with this prayer.  Faced with the responsibility of caring for and raising a child, new parents ought to find frequent recourse to pray for the understanding they need to raise their children.

          Finally, as we begin to take responsibility for the tasks that God has given us, we will find the things for which we truly need God’s intervention—such as a miraculous healing from an addiction for a friend (or even ourselves) or the conversion of a family member long-estranged from the Church.  Then, we can come again before God, bringing these things to him, and trusting that he hears and answers these prayers too.  Friends, when we pray in this way, taking responsibility for the things to which God has called us and asking for God’s wisdom to fulfill them, we not only engage in our relationship with him, but we also make ourselves open to uncovering the hidden treasures that are the kingdom of heaven. 

          My brothers and sisters, the characters in the parables from today’s Gospel reading were “surprised by joy” to find the hidden treasure and the pearl of great value.  When we accept the particular way that God has called us to serve his people here on earth, then we too will be “surprised by joy” when we find the ways in which the kingdom of heaven is being realized in our midst: a family healed after the leaving off of an addiction or the deathbed conversion of that long-estranged family member.  This is the same kingdom that each week we come together to realize and to celebrate when we come here to worship at this altar; and the meal that we share from it is a participation in the eternal banquet of heaven: the banquet of God’s kingdom yet to come.  Let us pray, then, for God’s wisdom to take up the task that he has given us as his servants and thus prepare ourselves to be surprised by joy when his kingdom appears like a great treasure before us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 30^th, 2017

We are witnesses

Peace and joy in the Risen Christ to all of you!  He is Risen!  Alleluia!

Homily: Easter Sunday – Cycle A

          Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever!  My brothers and sisters, He is Risen!  I hope that you are joining with me today in this joyful sense of relief that our Lenten fast has ended, that is, our preparation for the celebration of our Lord’s resurrection has been fulfilled, and that we can now feast on the splendor of this holy day.  It has been a long journey since Ash Wednesday to today; and especially in these last three days, recalling our Lord’s passion, we have witnessed many things.  In order to bolster our joy today, let’s take a quick look at what we’ve experienced.

          First, on Thursday night, we witnessed the Last Supper in which Jesus, knowing that he was about to die, instituted the Eucharist by giving to his twelve closest disciples his body to eat and blood to drink in the form of bread and wine.  At the same time, we witnessed how he instituted the priesthood that same night in order to ensure that this Eucharist would continue after he was gone.  And we witnessed how Jesus bent low to wash his disciples’ feet, giving them an example of how it is that they were to serve one another.  Finally, we witnessed how he went out to the garden to pray and was arrested after he was betrayed by Judas, one of his twelve closest disciples.

          Then, on Friday, we witnessed how Jesus was brought before Pontius Pilate and was condemned unjustly.  Perhaps we even felt the sting of guilt as we joined in with the crowds who shouted “Crucify him!  Crucify him!” and who demanded for the release of Barabbas the murderer instead of Jesus.  We witnessed how he carried his own cross and was crucified on Calvary.  Perhaps the sorrow for our sins moved us to venerate the cross that day: the cross on which Jesus suffered for our sins, but through which he set us free.  At the end, we watched as his dead body was taken down from the cross and laid in a tomb before nightfall that night.

          On Saturday, we witnessed that strange, eerie silence that always comes with Holy Saturday.  “There is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness” an ancient Christian homilist wrote.  He continues, “The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep.”  We witnessed the closed tomb of our Lord and (hopefully) witnessed the Sabbath rest.  We sat and waited, not knowing if what Jesus had said about the resurrection was true and, if so, how and when it would come about.  We witnessed night fall and felt the anxiety of not knowing what the future would hold and the sadness in our hearts for having lost, it seemed, all that we had hoped for.

          Now this morning we come here and we are witnesses to the incredible news that has come to us from the women who went to the tomb: “They have taken the Lord from the tomb!” and we are witnesses of what Peter would tell us after he ran to the tomb and found it empty.  “Could it be that our Lord has risen?”  Yes, Peter, he is risen and of this we are witnesses.

          In its most basic definition, a witness is someone who sees an event take place.  Typically, we associate a witness with legal proceedings; and because of this, we all generally recognize that being a witness carries with it responsibilities, specifically the responsibility to recount what it is we have seen or experienced.  Here in the United States, one can only be demanded to “give witness” in a court of law.  Otherwise, we have the “right to remain silent.”  For Christians, however, this right doesn’t necessarily exist.  Certainly, our freedom to remain silent can never be taken from us.  Nevertheless, as Christians we believe that an encounter with the risen Christ demands a kerygmatic response.  It is in fact a response commissioned by Christ when he told his disciples, “You are witnesses….”

          Now I know many of you are probably looking at me and saying, “I was with you, Father, right up until that “K”-word.  Right, kerygmatic.  First let me tell you that it is not important that you know how to say this word and it is even less important that you know how to spell it (if it wasn’t for spell-check, I would get it wrong every time).  Now let me tell you what it means.  It’s a Greek word that means a convincing proclamation of what one has seen and heard.  For Christians, kerygma is a proclamation that the crucified and risen Jesus is God’s final and definitive act of salvation.  This is exactly the witness that Peter gives in our first reading today.

          In it he has been summoned to the house of a Roman Centurion, named Cornelius, who was experiencing conversion.  Peter, upon hearing all that God had done to prepare this man to receive the gift of faith, gave this kerygmatic witness.  Upon hearing it, they Holy Spirit came down upon Cornelius and all in the household and many of them spoke in tongues.  Cornelius and his entire household was baptized that day, demonstrating the power that the kerygma, the convincing witness to the faith, holds.

          My brothers and sisters, we are witnesses.  We have encountered the risen Christ.  In fact, we encounter him every Sunday, here at this altar. Peter and the other disciples knew that once they had encountered the risen Christ, they could not remain in the Upper Room, but had to go forth from there to proclaim what they had seen and heard.  And so it is with us.  As much as we can no longer claim ignorance of our sins, having seen the suffering that they caused our Lord on the cross, no longer can we stand idle, either, now that we have encountered the risen Christ.

          Every Sunday, and in a particularly powerful way on Easter Sunday, we participate anew in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ; we encounter again the risen Lord in Word and Sacrament.  My brothers and sisters, we are witnesses.  Therefore, the dismissal at Mass is never the end of our Christian obligation for the week, but rather it is just the beginning.  The “go” in the “go in peace” is not simply permission to leave, but rather it is a sending forth; and it is understood that this “sending forth” involves some sort of mission.

          My brothers and sisters, the privilege of being a witness—and it is a privilege—brings with it the responsibility to proclaim what we have seen and heard in every place where we live.  Saint Pope John Paul II reminded us of this when he said these words at the beginning of his pontificate, “Do not be afraid to go out into the streets and the public places—like the first apostles!—to preach Christ and the good news of salvation in the squares of cities.”  Friends, if we are to be authentic witnesses then we must take seriously this “sending forth” that we receive today and every Sunday.

          Since we are learning Greek vocabulary today, why don’t we try one more?  Does anyone know what the Greek word for “witness” is?  It’s martyr.  Martyr is the noble title give to Christianity’s most fervent witnesses: those whose unfailing proclamation of the risen Christ led them to be killed for their faith.  Brothers and sisters, may our kerygma, our witness, to the risen Christ whom we encounter here at this Mass earn for each one of us so noble a title.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 16^th, 2017

Face to face with Divine Mercy

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday) – Cycle C

          On April 30^th of the year 2000, two important things happened that have directly affected our celebration today.  First, Pope John Paul II canonized Sr. Maria Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun who was blessed to have received revelations from Jesus asking her to spread devotion to Divine Mercy.  Second, Pope John Paul II declared that the second Sunday of Easter would be known from now on as “Divine Mercy Sunday”.  The first was important as an authentication of the revelations made to Sr. Faustina, thus making it possible to promote devotion to Divine Mercy throughout the whole world.  The second was important as it fulfilled one of the requests that Jesus made to Sr. Faustina: that is, that the entire Church reserve the second Sunday of Easter to honor and commemorate God’s infinite mercy.  And so, today, it is appropriate that we spend some time in this Mass reflecting on God’s mercy.

          In the Scriptures, we see God’s mercy on display.  In the Gospel, we rewind back to Easter Sunday, where the disciples of Jesus had gathered together and did not yet know of Jesus’ resurrection.  The risen Jesus then appears before them, even though the doors to the place were locked—which was a display of great and fearful power—and what does he say to them?  Does he say, “How could you?  You all abandoned me in my hour of need!  Then, you huddle away in fear as if I never told you that this is how it had to be!  It’s like you weren’t even listening!”  No, he doesn’t say that, does he?  What does he say?  He says, “Peace be with you” and he makes himself available to them: showing them his hands and his feet so that they will know it’s him in the flesh and not a ghost.  He didn’t chastise them; rather, he had mercy on them, even though they had abandoned him.

          Not only that, but Jesus’ next move is to give them a commission to go and share this joyful message with others.  Notice that this commission, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you”, has no limits on it.  Thus Jesus is extending his mercy even to those who put him to death as he sends his disciples to proclaim that he is risen and that redemption can be enjoyed by all who put their faith in him.

          To be sure that there is no doubt about whether or not a person has received God’s mercy, Jesus does something even more incredible: he gives his disciples the authority to forgive sins.  Therefore, whenever they encounter anyone, they don’t have to rely on a vague “I’m sure that God forgives you”, but rather they can boldly proclaim “I know that God forgives you, because I have been given the authority to proclaim his forgiveness, and I proclaim it”.  This, of course, is the institution of the Sacrament of Reconciliation: the sacrament of God’s mercy extended to sinners.

          Yet, there comes a moment of drama in today’s reading, doesn’t there?  Thomas, one of Jesus’ twelve closest disciples, wasn’t with them when Jesus appeared to them on that first Easter evening.  When he returns to them and they tell him that they had seen Jesus alive, Thomas denies it.  He is so hurt by the seeming defeat of Jesus—the one who he thought would be his new king—that he will not accept the testimony of others, but instead insists on a face-to-face reconciliation with him.

          For a whole week Thomas broods over the fact that Jesus allegedly appeared to the other disciples without him being present until the following Sunday when, present this time with the other disciples, Thomas, too, sees the risen Lord.  Again, mercifully, Jesus does not condemn Thomas, but rather he invites him close.  In a way, Jesus is saying to him, “Do not let your hurt get in the way of placing your faith in me.  Come, touch the nail marks and my open side and know that it is me, alive even after death!”  Thomas, having come face to face with the man who was dead, but now lives, confesses the truth that his heart probably knew all along: “My Lord and my God!”

          This, my brothers and sisters, is the unbounded nature of God’s mercy: not just that he would forgive us our sins, but rather that he would come close to us, never allowing us to stay far from him, but rather pursuing us because he desires so much that we would be reconciled to him.  And do you think that it was an accident that Jesus appeared to the disciples when Thomas wasn’t with them on Easter Sunday?  Of course not!  In doing so, Jesus wanted to prove to us that, even in our doubt, he would not abandon us.  Thus, he allows Thomas to miss his first appearance so that he might show us all that doubt—even if it is significant!—is not enough to scare him away or offend him.  Rather, he comes to us again… and again… and again, if necessary until we allow his tender gaze to fall upon us and so confess our faith in him.

          Each of us, I’m sure, has experienced the anxieties, frustrations, and doubts that Thomas experienced when he watched his Lord suffer and die.  I suspect that it is safe to say that each of us, like Thomas, has resisted believing that God really has overcome what seemed to be our defeat.  What this Gospel reading today does for us—and what our commemoration of Divine Mercy today does for us—is remind us that God never abandons us in our anxieties, frustrations, and doubts, but that he comes back to us, ever ready to meet us, hands exposed and saying “Peace be with you.”  It is peace that he offers us, the peace of believing that God’s goodness can never be exhausted and that no darkness in the world can ever extinguish his light: the very light that broke through the darkness of death so that we might experience eternal life.

          Each Sunday, my brothers and sisters, when we approach Holy Communion, we come face-to-face once again with God’s mercy.  Today, on the day in which we particularly celebrate the Divine Mercy, let’s open our hearts to allow Jesus’ words to be spoken into our lives once again: “Peace be with you.”  And then, as our “Amen” proclaims the words of St. Thomas—“My Lord and my God!”—let us also speak the words that Jesus taught St. Maria Faustina to say when she was face-to-face with his mercy: “Jesus, I trust in you.”  With these words in our hearts, we will then be ready to go forth from here to be the face of God’s mercy to others so that they, too, might proclaim the most important truth of them all: that Jesus, the Son of God, the crucified one, is alive… that he is truly risen!

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 3^rd, 2016