Homily for July 29, 2018 (17th Sunday B)

 Listen to the Homily here in English and Spanish

On most Sundays there is a woman I see walking into the Church. It always surprises me a little. A few years ago the hospital chaplain called me and said, “Father, come quickly, we are certain the end is near.” And on that day a few years ago I gave the anointing of the sick, the apostolic pardon at the hour of death, and prayed the prayers for the dying over the same woman. I left the hospital and waited for a call about a funeral. A few weeks later she walked into the Church. It was a miracle and I got to be part of it.

There’s a baby I see on Sundays. He, like all babies, makes me smile. Some months ago, only hours after he was born, I baptized and later confirmed him in the NIC-U. They didn’t think he would survive. I left the hospital and waited for the dreaded phone call. That phone call never came and the baby comes to Church each week. It was a miracle and I got to be part of it.

Some of those miracles are dramatic and some are more private, like the person in the narthex who says, “I’ve been away from the Church and today I decided to come back.” It is a miracle and I got to be part of it.

It was a miracle and I got to be part of it. I wonder if that is what the young boy who gave his five loaves and two fish away told his mother at the end of the day. “Mom, it was amazing. There were five thousand people and there was no food and I shared my lunch with a man named Jesus and we had so much food left over. It was a miracle and I got to be part of it.”

When you think about it, the little boy was more than just part of that miracle. If the little boy does not share his lunch with Jesus, the feeding of the five thousand does not happen. If Andrew does not notice the little boy who offers to share his five loaves and two fish, the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand does not happen. If Philip does not recognize the need for so much food on the side of the mountain, then the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand does not happen. And if the crowd had not followed Jesus across the Sea of Galilee, then the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand does not happen. It was a miracle. And the little boy and Andrew and Philip and the other disciples and each of the people in the crowd were part of it.

They each got to be part of one of the miracles of Jesus. They each got to see the Lord Jesus take the bread and give thanks and give it to those who were hungry. They each got to hear the words, “Gather the fragments, so that none will be wasted.” They each got to see the twelve wicker baskets filled with the abundance of bread from the five loaves that were placed in the hands of Jesus. They each got to be part of the miracle. Jesus wanted each of them to have a part in his miracle. The little boy and Philip and Andrew and the disciples and each person in the crowd were part of the miracle of Jesus.

And so are we. 

Jesus wants you and Jesus wants me to be part of the miracles that he is doing. Jesus invites you and Jesus invites me to be part of the miracles that he is doing. You might be like Philip and you recognize what the need is and what will be needed. You might be like Andrew and have the eyes to see the gifts in the life of child and bring that child in prayer to the Lord Jesus. You might be like the little boy who was willing to share the food that he had with those who had no food. You might make the wicker baskets and gather the fragments. And we each are part of the crowd as we are fed by the hand of the Lord Jesus.

And now, as he once did for his disciples and for the little boy and for the five thousand on the hillside, Jesus Christ feeds you and me.

It’s a miracle and we get to be part of it. Amen.

Homily for July 8, 2018 (14th Sunday B)

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Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith. It is such a sad sentence to conclude the proclamation of the Gospel. Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith. Couldn’t we hear something more hopeful? Could there be some good news for us on this weekend in early July? I want something more than “Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith.”

Maybe Ezekiel can help us. Maybe there is good news from the prophet who lived by the river in Babylon and had visions of the court of heaven. Certainly he can give us a word of hope and a word of grace, but not today. His message is about rejection. His message is about a people who refuse to hear the Word of the Lord. The message of Ezekiel today is about hardness of heart and rebellion. It seems to be a sad message too. It seems like so much bad news.

And we hear enough bad news. We hear bad news about the treatment of children along the border and bad news about the treatment of children in our community. We hear bad news about gang violence and drug violence and school violence and violence against the unborn. There is so much bad news. I almost want to stop listening. I almost want to stop listening to the noise and the conflict and the violence and the hatred. I almost want to stop listening.

But if I stop listening, I might miss something important. I might not hear the story about the great young people who sit in this Church who can see a future better than the present. I might not hear the parents and grandparents who look back with pride and forward in hope. If I stop listening I could not hear the pastor who says, “I am amazed at the abundance of their faith.” If I stop listening, I will not hear the words that Jesus gave to Paul and that Jesus gives to you and to me: My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.

We are a community of amazing faith. For more than seventy-six years, the parish of Our Lady of Lourdes has kept the faith alive from generation to generation. It has not been easy. We know those stories well. We have our wounds and our scars. We have our regrets and our resentments. We have our disagreements and our divisions. We cannot deny them. They are part of who we are . . . today.

But Jesus says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” We have the promise of Jesus that his grace surrounds us and supports us. We have the promise of Jesus that his grace will leads us on our way to the kingdom where communion conquers division, where wounds become trophies of victory, and all resentments are overcome by the resurrection. We have the promise of Jesus, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

We have the promise. We have the grace. We have the victory in Christ Jesus. We have the Good News. Amen.

Homily for July 1, 2018 (13th Sunday B)

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The vestment that I am wearing was a gift from my parents. A few weeks ago, my mother walked into a store that sold priestly vestments. There were hundreds of vestments in the store. There were also clergy shirts and black suits and collars and rosaries and chalices and basically everything else a priest might want or need. My mother said two things: “I didn’t realize that you priests have your own stores,” and then “I want to give you a new vestment, but it has to be green.” Green is my mother’s favorite color. I am forty-one years old, a priest for nine years and a pastor for almost six, and my mother is still picking out my clothes!

Clothes are interesting, they can tell us things. Sometimes our clothes say where we work. Sometimes our clothes say where we went to school or where we want to go to school. Sometimes our clothes show we are part of group or an organization. Sometimes our clothes show our favorite football or World Cup team. And sometimes our clothes show that we went to Vacation Bible School and learned that Jesus rescues. Clothes are interesting, they can tell us things.

But for the woman who had been sick for twelve years, clothes had power. There are very few people in the Scriptures that I admire more than this woman. Oh I love the praying of Peter and the preaching of Paul and the poetry of John. I love Our Lady and Mary Magdalene and Martha who is always hard at work in Bethany. But this woman whose name we do not know has a trust and a faith and a determination and a confidence in the healing power of Jesus Christ that I hope to have.

She has suffered. She has suffered from illness. She has suffered from doctors. She has suffered from isolation. She has suffered from poverty. And yet, she believes in the healing power of Jesus. She knows that if only she could touch his clothing that she would be healed. She pushes her way through the crowd. Nothing will prevent her from getting to Jesus. The crowds will not prevent her. Her illness will not prevent her. Her shame will not prevent her. She will touch the clothes of Jesus and she will be healed. She is faithful and determined. She is confident and courageous. She reveals her weakness to Jesus and her faith in his power to heal. I want to have that kind of faith and I want to have that kind of courage. I want to touch the clothes of Jesus and be healed in the depths of my soul.

And maybe you do too. Maybe you want to touch the clothes of Christ this morning. Maybe you have been suffering for twelve years or more or less. Maybe a doctor knows your pain. Maybe your family knows your pain. Maybe your pastor knows your pain. Maybe only Jesus knows your pain. And this morning you want to touch the clothes of Jesus Christ and be healed.

But we will do more than that.

With more than his clothing, Jesus comes to meet us. It is not our hand that reaches out to meet him, but his hand that reaches out the meet you and me. Christ comes near to us in the Word proclaimed and in his Body and Blood. We approach him in faith and confidence. We approach him in weakness and suffering. We approach him as he approaches us to find mercy and compassion and healing.

And then we discover that we have been clothed in Christ. The garment we wanted to touch we now wear. The power of mercy and the presence of healing grace that we wanted to receive, we now carry. More than a sign of our job or our team, we wear the cloths of the Savior and we radiate the healing power of the Jesus.  

Homily for June 3, 2018 (Corpus Christi Sunday)

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On Wednesday June 6^th, I will celebrate my ninth anniversary as a priest. And as I remember Ordination day and the day after when I celebrated my Mass of Thanksgiving, there is one phrase that echoes through my memories: I will see you in the Eucharist.

Normally at the celebration of Mass, I preach. However when a new priest celebrates his first Mass, the new priest usually invites another priest to preach.  The homily at the first Mass of a newly ordained priest is not usually preached to the congregation; it is preached directly to the new priest.  It is a conversation between brothers and the congregation is allowed to overhear the conversation. I invited Father Jim Erving of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate to preach at my first Mass.  I met Father Jim a few months before I entered seminary.  He was only a few years older than me, but I knew when I met him that I would invite him one day to preach to me at my Mass of Thanksgiving.  Throughout my time in seminary, whenever I would speak with Father Jim, he would always remind me, “I will see you in the Eucharist.”  It was a promise of his prayers, but more than that it was the recognition that when we celebrate the Eucharist, we are mystically united with all of the baptized.  When we come to adore the Savior in the Blessed Sacrament, we are united with all of those who keep watch before his holy presence. There is no distance between us when we are gathered around the Altar of the Lord and the tabernacle in the Church.  We will see each other in the Eucharist, even though many miles separate us.

We celebrate today the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ. It is the mystery of Holy Thursday celebrated in the radiant glory of Easter. We celebrate the gift of the priesthood of Christ and the gift of the Eucharist. Christ Jesus, who is the eternal High Priest, shared his priesthood with his apostles so that they would be an extension of his priesthood.  From generation to generation the priesthood of Christ has been handed on so that the words that Christ spoke on Holy Thursday could be powerfully spoken in every place and time. The Lord Jesus consecrated bread and wine, and he consecrated his apostles. Jesus consecrated all who share in the ministry of the apostles, so that they would consecrate bread and wine. The words that he spoke, they would speak. The bread that he broke, they would break. The body and blood that he gave, they would give. When we gather to celebrate the Eucharist, we join in the eternity of heaven. All time passes away and we are present in the upper room in Jerusalem. We are present with the Lord and with all of those of every time and place who have looked to him in hope.  In the celebration of the Eucharist and before the tabernacle of the Lord we are united with our Great High Priest who lives forever to make intercession for us.  We will see each other in the Eucharist, though hours and days and generations are between us.

I will see you in the Eucharist.  I thought of those words on an October evening in 2013 when I received the news that Father Jim had a brain tumor. I sent him a simple message. I will see you in the Eucharist.  When he called me on Christmas Eve that year, we spoke some about his illness. We spoke more about faith, about our unity in the Eucharist, and about the privilege of being priests.  I asked for his blessing.  I gave him mine.  And we promised to see each other in the Eucharist.

I will see you in the Eucharist. I thought of those words often only a few months later when Father Jim was called to the house of the Father. It was very early in the morning on the 18^th of March in 2014. And my first thoughts were, I will pray for him today at the Eucharist.

Distance and time are not the only things that fall away when we celebrate the Eucharist and adore our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.  When we celebrate the Eucharist and when we kneel before the tabernacle, we are in the presence of the one who has conquered death forever.  The power of the Eucharist is stronger than death.  When the Eucharist is celebrated the demons cry out in terror and death falls silent before the Word of eternal life. We see each other in the Eucharist, because Christ has conquered sin and death.

This is the gift of the Lord Jesus that we celebrate on this most holy day.  The Lord Jesus gives us himself in the Eucharist.  He gives us a share in his sacrifice so that we can receive his sacrament of unity.  He invites us to the banquet where distance and time and even death pass away.  The Lord Jesus invites us to see him, and each other, in the Eucharist.  Amen.  

Homily for May 27, 2018 (Holy Trinity Sunday)

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I get asked a lot of questions, but not the kind that you would think. Rarely does anyone ask me what happened at the Council of Ephesus in 431 or what happened at the Finance council meeting a few weeks ago. Most of the questions are pretty simple. “Does it bother you to have to wear the same thing every day? Are you ever allowed to wear regular clothes?” My favorite of these types of questions begins, “Since you only work on weekends, what do you do during the rest of the week?” But sometimes the questions are a little more pointed. Sometimes they are a little more personal. “Are you ever lonely? Do you ever feel isolated?” Those are more than questions of history or clothing. Those are questions you can’t run from too easily. Those are questions that we all have an answer to. And those are questions that we all have to answer.

Adam was alone in the Garden, but then the Lord gave him some animals to name. But Adam still felt like he was alone in the Garden, and the Lord created Eve. And at last Adam wasn’t alone.

But when Eve was alone in the Garden, the serpent came to tempt her. When King David was alone in the palace and he gazed on the rooftop of his neighbor, he embraced temptation and sin. When the Lord Jesus was alone in the desert and later in the garden, the devil came to tempt him. Temptation often finds us in isolation and loneliness.

We weren’t created for isolation and loneliness. We certainly experience them. We certainly suffer from them. Sometimes the people who were supposed to be there with us are the ones who place us in isolation and loneliness. The ones who were supposed to gather us are the ones who separate us. We experience it. We suffer from it. We fight against it. We weren’t created for isolation and loneliness. We were created for something else. We were created for something better.

God was not alone when we were created. We are not the result of the Lord God looking for company. We were not created as the answer to the question if God was lonely and isolated. From all eternity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit have lived in perfect harmony, perfect blessedness, and perfect communion. Nothing is needed. Nothing is lacking. There is no loneliness. There is no isolation. Only love. And from this love, and for this love, we were created. Not needed, but wanted. Not needed, but loved. Not needed, but desired.

God created us for communion, with him, and with creation, and with each other. The tragedy of sin, the echo of the No of Adam and Eve, fractures that communion. It damages those relationships. It leaves us, at times, in isolation and loneliness. But the triumph of grace, the echo of the Yes of Mary, the ever present reality of the Yes of the Lord Jesus, the continual Yes of the Church to her Lord, my Yes and yours, draws us, bit by bit and day by day, and moment by moment, into the communion for which we were created. The Lord Jesus, who conquered sin and death by the blood of his cross, desires to conquer our loneliness and our isolation.

As he draws us now into the mystery of the Eucharist, into that Holy Communion where the choirs of Angels and the Citizens of Heaven above sing in exultation, we admit our need. We admit our loneliness and our isolation. We cast the brokenness of our hearts into the fires of his Sacred Heart. And he will say to you and he will say to me, as he said to Peter, and Andrew, and Matthew and John, “Come, Follow Me” and the Lord Jesus will lead us into that perfect Communion where he lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God forever and ever. Amen.