The Grand Tour

Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

    George Jones, or as those of us who listen to classic country music know him, the Possum, had a number of hits with his unique and melancholic voice.  One of those hits, with a piano jingle you can’t miss, was “The Grand Tour.”  In the song, George takes you on a tour of a house where his wife used to live (before she left him), and all the things that are connected to memories of when they were together.  He sings about the chair where she used to bring him the paper and tell him she loved him; about the bed where they slept; about the closet where she hung her clothes; about the nursery where their baby slept.  In all of these places, the Possum wants you to see it all so that he can share the pain he’s feeling at his wife leaving him.
    Today in the Gospel, Jesus invites Himself to Zacchaeus’ house, where there is a dinner.  The locals in Jericho are not too pleased, because Zaccaheus is a tax collector, and tax collectors often increased the amount of money you owed, so that they could earn a living.  But Zacchaeus promises to give half of what he owns to the poor, and if he has extorted anything, he promises to repay it fourfold.  Zacchaeus received the Lord into his home, and was transformed by the presence of Jesus.
    Are we so welcoming to Jesus?  In the Book of Revelation, Jesus says, “‘“‘Behold, I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me.’”’”  Jesus wants to be present with us, in our home, and place of comfort and security.  He wants fellowship with us, so that we can have fellowship with the Father.  But do we welcome Him in like Zacchaeus?
    If you house is anything like mine was when I was growing up, whenever we had guests over there were certain rooms the guests didn’t get to see, which happened to be the places where we’d put all of the stuff that we didn’t make time to put away before the guests came over.  Usually the guests didn’t mind missing out on that one room during the nickel and dime tour of the house.  But Jesus is not like other guests.  He wants to see us all.
    When Adam and Eve sinned, after they clothed themselves to hide themselves from each other, they also tried to hide from God.  They went to a part of the Garden of Eden in which they thought they could get away from God.  How often are there parts of our lives into which we don’t want God to look.  We hide them from God, or close the door of our hearts to God, thinking that if the rest of the house is clean, then we don’t have to worry about those messes that we have put away in a different room.
    In fact, God wants to enter every part of our house.  There is nothing in our life to which God does not want access.  But God is not a robber.  He will not break into the parts of our lives that we don’t want to hand over to Him.  That may seem like good news, but in reality, the rooms where we hide all our junk are exactly the rooms that keep us separated from God, that don’t allow us to experience the full joy of a relationship with Him, because a true relationship with God means giving Him our all, not just the parts we want Him to have.
    This makes perfect sense when we think about it like a marital relationship.  Imagine owning a house with your spouse, but there’s one room where he or she won’t let you go.  Because we not omniscient, the curiosity would probably eat away at us.  It would create a barrier between you and your spouse, which, if not resolved, could easily lead to the break-up of the marriage. 
    Or imagine after ten years of marriage with your spouse, a young adult comes to your front door and knocks.  And when you ask who the person is, he tells you that he’s your spouse’s child from 20 years ago.  I would imagine you would be confused, hurt, angry, and a whole range of other emotions.  You would feel like you had a right to know, even if your spouse thought it was going to be too embarrassing.  And not having that full disclosure would eat away at your relationship, making you wonder what other secrets your spouse might be keeping from you.
    In reality, God knows what’s in that one room that we don’t want Him to enter.  God knows all the secrets of our life.  But, because He loves us, and love never forces itself on the other, He will never force us to reveal what’s behind the door, or what’s in our past.  Still, while it’s not an obstacle to God, because His love for us is everlasting, it is an obstacle for us, because in order to have the full joy of a relationship with God, He has to receive everything from us, not just the parts that we want to share.
    Today, here at Mass and when you go home, enjoying the rest of the Christian Sabbath, invite God to take the grand tour of the house of your heart and soul.  Open up every door for Him.  Show him the clean rooms and the rooms where there’s a mess.  Invite Jesus: “Step right up, come on in.”

The sycamore tree in Jericho that Zacchaeus climbed to see Jesus

Trusting God with our Future

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

These readings for the Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time providentially connect well with my final Sunday as pastor of St. Joseph.  This is one of the amazing things about the Word of God.  It always has something to say to us to strengthen us, to comfort us, and to provide us with the way forward in our lives, no matter what is happening.

I do have to say, though, it is a bit funny that the first reading is about Elijah calling Elisha away from his home, and the Gospel includes a passage where Jesus affirms that He has no permanent home in His ministry, unlike the foxes and birds who have their dens and nests.  

When I was ordained a priest, six years ago, I put my hands in Bishop Boyea’s hands, and Bishop Boyea asked me, “Do you promise respect and obedience to me and my successors?”  I answered, “I do.”  Bishop Boyea then continued, “May God who has begun the good work in you bring it to fulfillment.”  Bishop Boyea didn’t tell me that moving to Flint was part of my promise of obedience to him.  But as he asked me to leave my home, Adrian, behind, I knew that God was asking me to let go of that which I treasured, and entrust myself to Him, just as Elisha had to entrust himself to God as he followed Elijah.

One of the things that may seem crazy is the life of a priest.  The decision to give up money, the ability to make the major decisions in our life, to be obedient to another, as well as to give up sex and a biological family, seems, in the view of our society to be crazy.  It might even sound boring or too much to give up.  But, even with the very real sacrifices that I do make, I am grateful to God that He called me to be a priest, and I would make the same decision again if I had to.  I also can think of at least 8 young men who are in the parish (in addition to Jake, the seminarian who is living with me) or are from the parish who would make a good priest (I won’t embarrass them by naming them).  If you are a young man, even if you think you know exactly what you want to do with your life, do not be afraid to be open to the will of God.  If you have heard that little voice in your heart suggesting a priestly vocation, at least look into it.  Keep praying about it.  And do not be afraid to see if that is where the Lord is calling you.

But that attitude of abandonment to God’s will is not just for priests.  As Christians, we are all called to a radical trust in God in every circumstance.  And sometimes God calls us to walk away from what we think is best in order that we can continue to grow in faith in Him.  Sometimes that means moving, like in my case.  Sometimes that means letting go of a favorite hobby, food, or especially a sin without which we are sure we cannot live.  Maybe it means being open to another child when we think we’ve had enough.  Of course, when it comes to a new life entering our lives, we want to pray about it, and use the gift of reason that God has given us as we discern God’s will.  But just because our will says one thing, does not mean that it is necessarily God’s will.

We are called to live by the Spirit, as St. Paul reminds us in the second reading.  And not just any spirit, but the Spirit of God.  Our fallen human nature sometimes says one thing while the Spirit of God says another.  We are always tempted to take our lives into our own hands and make all the decisions ourselves.  We still struggle with the same temptation that afflicted Adam and Eve: to put ourselves in the place of God and decide our future without any relation to God.  But by our baptism, we can know God’s will, and we can choose to make what may seem like an insane decision according to the wisdom of the world, but which is the best decision according to the wisdom of God.

The Lord calls us throughout our lives to put our trust in Him and to follow Him, even to places we didn’t expect to go.  Will we have the courage to be like Elisha and leave what we know behind in order to serve God where He leads us?

Mom and Jesus Lead us Home

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

One of the great things about mothers is that they generally know how to make a house into a home.  Whether as a family you have as much money as Warren Buffett, or you’re struggling to make ends meet, a mother has a way of making a place feel comfortable, and making it a place where you want to return.  Home is the place you know you can go back, even if things aren’t going so well.  It’s the place where there is love and acceptance of the person, even if not everything the person does is accepted.  Home, as the saying goes, is where the heart is, and where mom is, there is always a lot of heart.

Today, in the convergence of the Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord and Mother’s Day, we celebrate in the fact that Jesus has prepared a home for us, and is waiting for us to go there.  We have not been there, but the disciples saw Him go there.  Jesus ascended into heaven, our true home, and wants us to go there.  Heaven is the place of ultimate love, as those who live there forever are embraced by God, who is Love Itself.  Jesus is not our mother, but He wanted to show us the way home.  He has taken our Blessed Mother there, body and soul through the assumption, just as He is present there through the Ascension.  There are members of our Catholic family there already, the saints, both those who are canonized and those who are known only to God, hopefully including our mothers who have gone before us.  

But Jesus hasn’t shown us the way so much in a physical manner.  He did ascend, body and soul, into heaven, but it’s not as if we shoot up in a space shuttle that we can get to Him.  He has shown us the way in the manner He lived His life.  We are meant to imitate Jesus’ life, and in that way, we follow the way that Jesus has shown us to our home.  If we follow Jesus’ teachings in Scripture, some of which can be pretty hard, then we’re on our way, because, as Jesus Himself said, He is the way.  If we love others and God loves us; if we do not hate each other; if we are humble, poor in spirit, clean of heart; if we live marriage as God created it from the beginning; if we pray for those who persecute us; if we are willing to suffer for the ones we love, even to the point of death; then we are no longer living our life; we are living the life of Jesus, and, as St. Paul says, “it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”  And if Christ lives in us, then we will know the way home to Him in heaven.

In the meantime, our Mother, the Church, helps us to allow Christ to live in us.  It cannot be forced.  No one can force us to live life in imitation of Jesus.  Holy Mother Church helps us through her laws, her rules, but also through her liturgy.  The Letter to the Hebrews talks about how Jesus entered into the true sanctuary in heaven.  And in the Solemnity of the Ascension, we celebrate that Christ is seated forever at the right hand of the Father to intercede for us.  Because He is there, in the heavenly sanctuary, our true home, we can enter through His way, to participate in His worship as High Priest of the New Covenant in His Blood.

In the liturgy, we are given a taste of heaven.  Of course, this isn’t heaven; this is Adrian (to paraphrase the movie “Field of Dreams”).  And because we live in a fallen world, even our liturgy is a shadow of the eternal liturgy in our heavenly home, which will be perfect.  But we get a taste of heaven in the Mass, where God is made known to us, just as He gives Himself to us in His Word and the Body and Blood of Jesus.  We get a taste of heaven in the Mass as we gather in a community, part of the communion of saints.  Of course, in heaven the only ones there will be perfected, and none of us is there yet.  But still, we get a taste of being in the communion of the saints of heaven as we gather here on earth.  We get a taste of heaven through the light, shining through our stained-glass windows, giving us a glimpse of what a glorified body might look light through the images of the saints that we have in our stained-glass windows.  We get a taste of heaven as we have union with (communion) God.  In all these ways, Holy Mother Church prepares us for the home that her Groom, Jesus, has prepared for us.

Sadly, and some of you know this all too well, sometimes children don’t go home.  Sometimes they choose to stay away from home for a variety of reasons.  And God will not force us to go home to heaven.  If we choose to live our own life, a life in contradiction to what Jesus teaches us, then we will not go home, will not go to the place of love and joy and peace.  But I pray that, by the power of the Holy Sprit, we will use the grace God gives us to live the life of Christ, to let Christ live in us, so that we can go to the place God has prepared for us, the love and joy and peace of heaven, our true home.

"MSU Shadows"

Fourth Sunday of Easter

            In the Diocese of Lansing, we are blessed with a number of institutions of higher education: I grew up learning the Spartan Fight Song from my parents, both proud alumni of MSU.  Others learn “Hail to the Victors,” or “Eastern Eagles,” from EMU, or “Charge On” from Hillsdale College.  And each has its own power to move hearts.  But, for my money, there is no more beautiful Alma Mater (if a non-alumnus can say this) than “MSU Shadows.”  Every time it’s played it evokes in me a feeling of home and connection, family and friends, and I can only imagine how those who graduated from MSU feel when it’s played.  It even surpasses, dare I say it, the Alma Mater of my alma mater, Sacred Heart Major Seminary, written by then-Fr. Earl Boyea, entitled “Cor ad Cor.”

            Even in our very transient culture, where people not only move city to city, but State to State, or even country to country for jobs and opportunity, there is something about the feeling of home that resonates in us all.  Home, not just a house, means stability, love, warmth, and family.  That is why violence done to a home with a wrecking ball, or even sadder, violence done in a home, wrenches us at our core.  Homes should be safe.

            Jesus today in the Gospel refers to Himself as the Good Shepherd.  He knows His sheep, and his sheep know Him.  He protects them, and even lays down His life for them.  He will not suffer wolves to enter the pasture where His sheep graze, but will do whatever it takes to give His flock life.  It is as if Jesus is setting up the green pastures, of which Psalm 23 speaks, as a home where all His sheep can feel at ease, safe, protected, and loved.

            The pasture that Jesus protects is His Church, His community of disciples.  This is our home.  This is where we are loved, nurtured, and protected.  It’s a large flock, but Jesus knows each of us by name, and we are called to grow in our knowledge and love of the Good Shepherd each day.  In order to be safe, though, we must stay close to Him.  There are too many wolves that would love to devour the sheep.

            Some of you are here for the last time today.  You’ll be taking final exams this week, and then graduate.  You have called East Lansing home, perhaps for four, or five, or six years.  You have made many friends, gone to many football and basketball games, laughed, cried, and made East Lansing your earthly home.  This building has become your spiritual home with its own unique memories.  But some of you are moving on to other cities, other States, other countries even.  You will try to establish a new earthly home where you can feel loved, appreciated, and secure.

            I can tell you that the best way to really establish a new earthly home, is by finding another “outlet,” if you will, of your spiritual home.  Because it’s not really this building that’s your home.  This building, as important as it is to have a sacred space set aside for the worship of God, could not exist, and you could still be home, because your home is the Catholic Church.  And wherever you move, find the nearest Catholic Church, and get acquainted with the community there.  It won’t be exactly the same, but the Good Shepherd is, no matter where you go, what type of music is played at Mass, who you know, or how big or small it is.  The Good Shepherd will be waiting for you, to welcome you home to the place where He is pleased to dwell. 

            The wolves of temptation will be circling, trying to convince you that you should worry about making tons of money first, or getting acquainted with other places, or just easing the stress of a new place by plopping down in front of the TV instead of going to Mass.  And Jesus the Good Shepherd, will do all that He can through your conscience to remind you that your home is with Him, not with the TV, or the money, or the stores.  He gives you safety and love, not the created goods.  The Good Shepherd has gone so far as to lay down His life for you to show you how much He wants you and loves you.  But He who did not ask you to create you, will not force His love on you without your permission.  If you, the sheep, wish to leave home and wander among the brambles, then He loves you enough to let you wander away.  But know this, He will be right behind you, ready to lead you back home to safety if you call on Him.

            All of us: graduating students, students who will return next year, professors, and all present here, we all know about the wolves.  We even know about the hired hands who will try to convince you that they’re pulling you away from the Church and from your faith for your own good because they love you.  But only Jesus never abandons you when danger comes, or when you’re all alone with no safety, no comfort, no peace.  Only the Good Shepherd stays with His sheep no matter what.  The hired hands run away.  The wolves will only stay as long as they can feed on you. 

            In a few months new freshmen will move in the dorms.  Soon-to-be sophomores and juniors and seniors will crowd the streets.  Students and alumni of all ages will gather at Spartan Stadium.  And at that first game, whether we win or lose (hopefully we win!), the band will play “MSU Shadows,” reminding all that they’re home.  But whether you’re in East Lansing or Ann Arbor, in Michigan or Montana, in the United States or Uzbekistan, stay with the Church, stay with the Good Shepherd, and no matter what hymns are sung, no matter what the building looks like, no matter who the priest is, you will be home.