The Peace of the Risen Christ

Third Sunday after Easter
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I’m going to apologize up front here, because this will probably not be my best homily.  Between vacation (which wasn’t that restful) and trainings for the Michigan State Police I needed to attend, I feel like I’ve been playing catch-up and simply dealing with things as they pop up, like an arcade game of whack a mole.  In addition, a friend of mine who is a Trooper was shot early on Monday morning in Detroit, and I have been trying to help him and his fiancee, whose wedding I will celebrate in October, deal with his serious injury (he’s going to be fine, but he will certainly need some time before he gets back to work).
    So I’m giving this the best I have.  I haven’t had my usual times to think and pray over the readings like I normally do.  I don’t have any funny or deep connections to make at the beginning to draw you in.  I have to preach, and I’m relying on the Holy Spirit to hopefully help draw you ever more deeply into the sacred mysteries and how the Word of God applies to our daily lives (the Holy Spirit is always the one who gives any good message, I just feel like I usually have more time and energy to cooperate with Him than I have had this week).
    The Catholic life is always simply giving our best and allowing God to work out what has to happen.  We don’t see Christ in the Body in the same way that the Apostles did.  That should give us a certain sadness.  We fight through struggles; we can seem overwhelmed by our family situations, by work, by the fears of the world which seeks to silence the Gospel and which so often drives toward violence and division.  Sometimes all of this weighs heavy on our heart.  We are like our Lord described, a woman in labor, who struggles through intense pain, giving all she has.  

    In the midst of this; in the midst of the chaos and busyness of my own life and the reality that I cannot be everywhere to help everyone, nor can I be all things to all people, the first words of Pope Leo XIV rang in my ears: “Peace be with you.”  He continued, “this was the first greeting of the risen Christ, the good shepherd who gave His life for the flock of God.”  
    And this is the only greeting I can share with you today.  The Risen Christ gives you His peace.  He assures as, us His Vicar, the Supreme Pontiff, assured us, “evil will not prevail.”  You are struggling.  You are fighting for truth.  You are working hard to protect and serve your family, your community, your parish, your country.  Sometimes things go well, but so often things break down or go contrary to what you think is best.  Christ did not promise us a world without sorrow, without struggle.  Indeed, He promised us we would have it.  But He also promised that He would see us again and our hearts would rejoice in seeing Him again.  And He promised that the joy of seeing Him again would be a joy no one could take from us.
    The peace and joy that Christ desires to give us can only come when we make room for Him.  When we try to do everything ourselves, without His grace, it all collapses like a house of cards.  We cannot have the peace and joy of Christ if we do not make room in our hearts for Christ Himself.  Sometimes we act like atheists, who do not believe in God and so do not turn to God for help in the midst of our struggles.  But God does not want us to struggle alone.  He wants us to make room for Him in our hearts and in our days, even if it’s simply a few minutes or seconds here and there.  Those stolen moments while the kids nap, or during a snack break in the office, or driving somewhere in the midst of running what seems like a free Uber service, make all the difference in the world, because they invite the peace and joy of Christ back into our minds, hearts, and souls to strengthen us.

Our Lady, Queen of Peace

    And on this Mother’s Day, let us not forget to invoke our heavenly mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary, in whatever struggles we may have.  She is the woman who labors in heaven for our safe deliverance to the Father’s house, who feels the pain of our sorrows and fatigue, who wraps us in her loving embrace when we feel overwhelmed, who shows us that the pains we go through, if united to Christ, can lead to a joy that words cannot fully describe.  Never be afraid to call on her when all seems lost, or like we can’t make it one more day, because she will help us to be open to receive the peace and joy that the risen Christ desires to share with us always.  I will end this homily in the same way our new Holy Father ended his first words at the loggia of St. Peter’s basilica: Hail Mary…. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.