What Makes You Follow Him?

Solemnity of St. Matthew
    Whenever I think about the apostles following Jesus, I wonder what it was about the Lord that made a group of men leave everything they knew behind and follow a rabbi who had, from a worldly perspective nothing.  Now, in some cases there were miracles that helped.  Think about Peter, who participated in a miraculous catch of fish when Jesus told him to go out into deep waters to fish.  Or Nathaniel, to whom Jesus said that He had seen Nathaniel sitting underneath a fig tree.  And maybe we might even suggest with Andrew, Philip, James, and John, who had been disciples of St. John the Baptist, that having your rabbi basically say, “Follow him,” would make it easier when the Lord invited you to follow Him.

    But with St. Matthew, our parish patron whose solemnity we celebrate today, as with other apostles, there doesn’t seem to be any miracle or direction given by another.  Jesus simply says, “‘Follow me,’” and St. Matthew follows Jesus.  What was it in the look or the tone of voice or maybe simply the way Christ carried Himself that made St. Matthew want to leave behind the lucrative, albeit despised, job of collecting taxes for Rome?
    No matter what it was that drew St. Matthew to Jesus, what made Matthew a great evangelist and a martyr was the witness to the Resurrection.  He knew that Christ had died, even if he didn’t see it with his own eyes.  St. John, his fellow Apostle and later fellow Gospel writer, did see it with his own eyes, and certainly reported it back to the group.  And then, three days later, they saw Jesus, all Eleven of the Apostles (because Judas had killed himself), risen from the dead, but with the marks of His crucifixion.  And then, fifty days later, the Apostles received the gift of the Holy Spirit so that they had power to spread the Good News that God, in Jesus, had conquered sin and death, and that no one needed fear anything, because God had shown His power over all things and would raise up those who followed Him and were baptized.  Matthew took seriously the last words that he recorded in his Gospel account, that the mission of the followers of Jesus was to go and make disciples of all nations and baptize them in the name of the Trinity.
    What makes us follow Jesus?  Many, if not all, of us were likely baptized as infants.  Our parents chose to configure us to Christ to give us the grace we needed to live a truly happy life.  Just like they chose, before we could choose, what foods to eat, what clothes to wear, what activities we could or could not do, as a sign of their love for us, so they chose to claim us for Christ.  But at some point, we have to also accept our call and follow the Lord.  Being a disciples is not something to which we default.  It has to be a choice, and a choice that we make after encountering the Lord.  Christ invites us, too, each day, to follow Him, but we have to actually get up and follow Him, or risk missing out because we would rather have the mediocrity of the known rather than the sometimes uncomfortable and dangerous adventure of leaving all behind to follow Jesus.
    So where have we encountered the Lord?  When did we hear His call?  It’s important to reflect back on a moment where we encountered the Lord, because it gives us strength for the often hum-drum ways we live our lives, the times where the Lord does not appear to us as powerfully as He sometimes does.  
    And if we’re afraid that we haven’t had a chance to encounter the Lord, do not fear!  Because each time you come to Mass, you encounter the same Lord who called St. Matthew; the same Lord who died on the cross; the same Lord who rose from the dead and sent the Holy Spirit to strengthen His disciples and give them what they needed to share the Good News.  Each time you come to Mass, Jesus proves His love for us in giving us a taste of His Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension, which gives us eternal life within us.  God knows we need Him and so He gives Himself to us to be closer to us than any other person could ever be, even a spouse. Even in these simply, 8 a.m. morning Masses, the God of all glory comes down on this altar to make Himself present to us and to invite us to follow Him.  And if, perchance, you doubt this, as can sometimes happen, then during the Eucharistic Prayer, ask the Lord in the silence of your hearts: “Reveal yourself to me, Lord, and call me to follow you.”  I promise that if you ask in sincerity of heart and make those few words your own, Christ will answer you.  He will reveal Himself to you and call you to follow Him.  Again, all you have to say in silence is: “Reveal yourself to me, Lord, and call me to follow you.”  Especially as you first see the Body and Blood of the Lord, as I turn to you and say, “Behold the Lamb of God,” God will be revealing Himself, and may even grant you a miraculous appreciation of this through a special gift, if that is what you need to deepen your faith and relationship with Him.
    God calls you today to follow Him, just like He called St. Matthew.  God has filled you with the Holy Spirit through the Sacrament of Confirmation, so that you have what it takes to share with others the good news of the Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of the Lord, and that He has freed us from sin and death.  What will you do?  Will you stay at your customs post?  Or will you get up and follow Him?

The Top-Shelf Gospel

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 

    Many of you know how much I have grown to appreciate bourbon over the past year or so. I had tried bourbon years ago, and would drink it occasionally since I was a priest, but ever since I started the Kentucky Bourbon Trail last September as part of my 40th birthday celebrations, I have really gotten into bourbon as my liquor of choice (always enjoy responsibly!). In fact, this past week I was down in Kentucky again, finishing the Kentucky Craft Distillery tour. 

    Among bourbon connoisseurs there is one bourbon that always comes up. People usually have mixed reactions to it, but it is one of the most sought-after bourbons in the US, and likely the world. That bourbon brand is Pappy Van Winkle. I won’t go into all the reasons, but Pappy Van Winkle is very hard to find, and when you can find it, it’s expensive, whether by the pour or by the bottle. A couple of weeks ago a Catholic who has done quite well for himself invited me over to his house in Grand Ledge for a bourbon tasting, and he let me try a 3/4 oz. pour of Pappy Van Winkle, along with some other top shelf bourbons.          

As we talked (as alcohol has a propensity for encouraging talking), something he said struck me, especially in regard to today’s readings. He mentioned that he has been able to acquire some very good bourbons, but he doesn’t just keep them for himself. He wants to share them with others and let them experience something they couldn’t experience on their own. So he hosts small bourbon tasting parties, or donates some of the top shelf bourbon that he acquires to charitable auctions or fundraisers so that groups can benefit from the donations and individuals can have a chance to taste some good bourbon. 

    We might consider the Gospel like a top shelf bourbon (very top shelf). And by Gospel, I mean the entirety of what Christ has revealed through the Scriptures and His Mystical Body, the Church. It is precious, because it is the key to finding eternal life. But like a top shelf bourbon, there is the temptation to simply hold on to it once we have acquired it and let it sit on a shelf as an occasional talking point or a badge of honor that we have found it. But the Gospel is not meant to be kept to oneself. It is meant to be shared with others, so that, quoting Psalm 34, they can "taste and see the goodness of the Lord.” 

    So often, when we think about the apostles, or at least I know this is true in my own thinking, I imagine them walking around with Jesus for three years, seeing His miracles, hearing His teachings, watching Him pray, and the like. But our Gospel reminds us today that He sent them out to proclaim what they had experienced. Jesus didn’t have them get a special degree or certificate to prove they were ready (and in many ways they weren’t ready, as we also see in the Gospel accounts). But He sent them out to proclaim that the Kingdom of God was at hand, and to cast out demons and heal the sick. And they did. We don’t know exactly how long they were gone, but we can imagine they went out all over Judea telling others about Jesus and sharing His teachings with them, as they participated in Jesus’ work of freeing people from the dominion of Satan and curing their diseases and infirmities. So it probably took a little while. And perhaps this happened more than once in that three-year time period. Like Amos in our first reading, they didn’t have any special commission other than from God calling them to speak for Him. 

    God has chosen us, as St. Paul said in the second reading, not only to be His people, but to share with others “the riches of his grace that he lavished upon us.” We continue what started in the early Church: we receive the Gospel, and then we change our lives, and then we share the Gospel as God commissions us. We don’t keep it to ourselves, but we share it with others, whether in our homes, at work, on vacation, and even while on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. Many of you do that in your families, sharing the importance of Christ in your marriage and with your kids or grandkids. Hopefully many of you provide a good example at work of what it means to be Catholic, and assist those going through hard times by praying with them and sharing how Christ helps us make it through any difficulty. Some are called to be priests or consecrated men and women who give up certain things or even everything to focus on our relationship with Christ. But the key is that we are sharing the Gospel by what we do and by what we say, and that we don’t simply keep it to ourselves. 

    The Gospel is infinitely more precious than even a 23-year Family Reserve bottle of Pappy Van Winkle. You don’t have to hunt for it or pay any money to acquire the Gospel. But it is not meant to sit on the shelf and get dusty. The new wine of the Gospel is meant to be shared with others so that they can enjoy its flavor and vitality. And, unlike liquor, the more we share it, the more of it we have for ourselves. So share the Gospel with others. Their life is not the same without it, and won’t be the same after they taste of the Gospel.

Not Made Up

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  As kids, but even as adults, we can make up rules.  Kids do it with games they create.  The games may not always make sense, and the rules often favor the person making up the game.  Sometimes they’re made up as the game progresses.  But even as adults we change rules, not often in games, but in relationships, in decisions we make and how we make them, in order to suit our whims and fancies.  Not all of this is vicious or devious, but sometimes just the result of more experience.  This is often the case with parents’ rules for their children.  The firstborn often has very strict rules, and is not allowed to do much, as the parents are still trying to figure out how to be parents and how to keep their eldest safe and responsible.  But, as more and more kids come, sometimes the rules soften a bit.  Sometimes the baby of the family gets away with things that the oldest child never could have done, this being attributed either to the favor of the youngest child, or because the parents are too tired to fight those battles with another child, so they acquiesce. 
    Many Catholics see the teachings of the faith as made up rules and regulations.  How often does the trope get repeated that this teaching or that Church law is simply the will of a bunch of old men with pointy hats.  But St. Paul reminds us of something important today: while there are rules that can change based upon later needs of generations, what is most precious to us and what is necessary is not made up by old men, but is handed down to us, starting from the Apostles, and then further expounded by their successors, the bishops. 

    St. Paul in today’s epistle outlines the basic kerygma of the faith: Christ died for our sins, was buried, and rose on the third day.  And everything basically flows from that basic teaching.  And that teaching is not ours, as if we own it.  It does not belong to the bishops or even the pope, as if they could change it.  Rather, they are the stewards of what came before, who, as our Lord says elsewhere, brings out the old and the new, as they guard what came before, and open up deeper mines in the treasure that is the deposit of faith.
    In communicating the faith, it’s important to start with those basic teachings (again, we call it the kergyma, which is just the Greek word for teaching).  When talking to our neighbors, they may not even be sure if God exists, so we should start there.  Whether using St. Thomas Aquinas’s five ways, or simply talking about how there is a desire on our heart for the infinite, which could not be there without an infinite being implanting that in our heart, we can start with the truths about God, who He is, and how He works.  This will lead us to how the Church teaches that God is not a monad, but a Trinity of Divine Persons, a Communion of Love.
    St. Paul, after talking about God (Christ), then says that He died for our sins.  Sin is pretty obvious.  G.K. Chesterton said that sin is one of the teachings of the Church that can be proved simply by observation.  Look around and you will see people missing the mark (the Greek word for sin, 𝛼𝜇𝛼𝜌𝜏𝜄𝛼, literally means to miss the mark).  We see people, and we even notice ourselves, making choices that we don’t really want to make, or that take us in a different direction than we want to travel in life.  And if God is life, and sin is choosing against God, then choosing sin is choosing death, more specifically, eternal death if it is grave and we do not repent.  That’s a pretty bad place to be, but God didn’t leave us in sin, He took upon Himself the punishment for sin (death), though He was sinless, so that we could have life.  He reconciled us to the Father, and gave us the possibility that we could choose God and not choose against God.  He accomplished this by His Resurrection, proving that sin and its consequence, death, had no power over Him, that He was more powerful than anything else.
    St. Paul then talks about how Christ appeared to Cephas (Peter) and the Eleven.  Then other disciples, and then Paul again reiterates Christ appearing to the Apostles, including to St. Paul himself eventually.  This is also, I would argue, the basis of the apostolic teaching: Christ continues His ministry through His Apostles (whom He chose to lead the Church) and through His disciples (all those who follow Him in the Church).  And His grace, through the Apostles and disciples, is not in vain; it is active and enlivens the Church.  But always in harmony with the basic teachings, and how the Magisterium, the fancy term for the pope and bishops exercising their teaching office, has developed those basic teachings.
    Our job is to share those teachings, and hold fast to what has been handed down to us in matters of faith and morals.  When we do that, we participate in our Lord opening the ears and mouths of the deaf and mute (but without having to spit on everyone with whom we share the Gospel).  All of those teachings are in Scripture, directly or indirectly; others are promulgated in Ecumenical Councils, from Nicaea I to Vatican II; others are in papal pronouncements on faith and morals; others are commonly taught by the popes and bishops.  But we do not change those teachings that touch on what has been revealed as part of the divine and Catholic faith: not the pope, not any bishop, not any priest, not any layperson.  If we were to do that, we would cut ourselves off from communion with the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, and we would find ourselves on the outside looking in, rather than part of that communion of Trinitarian love that God desires for each of us. 
    Yes, some rules are created that flow from our belief, but can change based on the needs of certain generations and peoples.  But our teachings on faith and morals are not made up, like in a child’s game, just to favor those who are in power.  Our teachings on faith and morals is a bottomless treasure chest, helping us to find the happiness that God desires for us, but always in harmony with the earliest treasures God gave to us in His Truth.  May we all be equipped to understand those treasures of faith and morals, and share them with others, so that they, too, can come into a saving relationship with the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

The Holy Spirit Wants...

Solemnity of Pentecost

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]. When it comes to the different Persons of the Blessed Trinity, the Holy Spirit is the one with whom most Catholics are probably least familiar.  We learn much about the Father through the Old Testament and from Jesus, who is the revelation of the Father.  Christ, while revealing the Father, also helps us to know Him better through the Gospels.  But then He ascends into heaven, and leaves us the Holy Spirit, who works in the Church.
    For our part, we are probably used to invoking the Holy Spirit when we have an instinct to do something or not do something.  And certainly, the Holy Spirit guides our actions, whether sought out or avoided.  But sometimes it’s also simply our instincts pushing us towards or away from something.  And do you ever notice that every group seems to claim the support of the Holy Spirit?  Both those who advocate teachings contrary to the faith, like women’s ordination, as well as those who hold to the faith revealed to us by Christ will argue from the authority of the Holy Spirit that their course of action is what God wants.  
    Some see in the Gospel according to John, as John and Peter run to the empty tomb at the instigation of Mary Magdalene, a distinction between the hierarchical nature of the Church (represented by Peter, our first pope) and the charismatic nature of the Church (represented by John, the one loved by the Lord).  John (charism) arrives at the tomb first, but waits for Peter (hierarchy) to go in.  Throughout the history of the Church, these two groups have oscillated back and forth for more influence.  The Second Vatican Council, in the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen gentium, states, “The Church, which the Spirit guides in the way of all truth and which He unifies in communion and in works of ministry, He both equips and directs with hierarchical and charismatic gifts.”  In other words, both the hierarchical and the charismatic are gifts of the Holy Spirit, all given for the salvation of souls.
    I mention this because the Holy Spirit is often invoked by some for pushing the Church to new realities, while others invoke the Holy Spirit as the one who brings order to chaos.  In reality, both are right: the Holy Spirit pushes us beyond our comfort zone, but also orders and unifies all of creation.  We see this in the Upper Room scene at Pentecost.  On the one hand, the Holy Spirit took those who probably knew only Aramaic, Hebrew, and possibly common Greek, to those who proclaimed the Gospel so that everyone present, from many different parts of the Roman Empire, could understand the proclamation of the Gospel in their own tongues.  The Holy Spirit pushed the disciples out of the comfort of the Upper Room, and eventually to lands as far as India to the east, down to North Africa and Egypt, over to Rome, and lands in-between.  It helped the Apostles discern that non-Jews could become members of the nascent Church without becoming Jewish and being circumcised.  
    On the other hand, the message that the disciples proclaimed was the one Gospel of Jesus Christ, the one message of salvation.  As the disciples traveled far and wide, the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church expanded its influence, and began to rid the world of the worship of demons in the pagan religions.  The Holy Spirit united all those who wanted to follow the Lord to be united in faith and morals, as discerned by the Apostles and their successors.  
    Even before that, the Holy Spirit is the one who spoke through the prophets, who were often a bit…eccentric.  The prophets were often the outcasts of society, because they called society from its rejection of God back to fidelity.  The Holy Spirit inspired King David to dance with abandon before the Ark of the Covenant as it was brought into Jerusalem, which dancing David’s wife Michal mocked because it made David look too much like the common people.
    But the Holy Spirit also took the primordial chaos and ordered it into light and darkness, land and sea, different forms of animals, and was given to our first parents to give them the breath of life.  The Holy Spirit guided sacred authors to compose literary works to communicate God’s saving will, and guided the bishops to choose which works were, in fact inspired by the Holy Spirit, and which were simply the works of man that also told stories that involved God.  
    In our own lives, too, the Holy Spirit often pushes us beyond our comfort zone.  He fills us to continue the proclamation of salvation through Christ.  He sometimes puts us in situations we never expected, sometimes even dangerous situations.  But, as our Advocate, He pleads our cause and gives us words to respond to our attackers, as He did for St. Stephen.  
    But as He pushes us to new realities, He does so with the continuity of what has come before.  The Holy Spirit deepens our understanding of what God desires for His people, but without contradicting what came before.  For example: the Holy Spirit has revealed that the Church is meant to be led by the Pope, the Vicar of Christ and successor of St. Peter.  That is a truth that can never be rejected, without rejecting what the Holy Spirit has revealed.  At the same time, the Holy Spirit can guide the Pope to understand how to exercise that power in new ways.  The Holy Spirit has revealed that marriage is between one man and one woman for life.  That can never change.  But the Holy Spirit can give us new guidance on how to share that truth with those who have gone through a divorce, or those who struggle with same-sex attraction.  
    [Joshua and Halley: the Holy Spirit has led you here to this day when you will receive the fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit through the Sacrament of Confirmation.  You have come by different paths, but have come to this union of faith in what the Holy Spirit has revealed through the Church and her sacred teaching office.  The Holy Spirit will give you new ways to proclaim that one faith, and to witness to the life of Christ from this point on, and into the future, especially as you prepare for Holy Matrimony.  Be open to the Holy Spirit pushing you to spread the faith, but also stay faithful to that faith as revealed to us by God through His Church, which is still one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.]
    If we feel that the Holy Spirit is only keeping us in our “safe spaces,” then we are probably missing out on one aspect of the work of the Holy Spirit.  If we feel that the Holy Spirit is going against what has been taught infallibly before, then it’s not the Holy Spirit to whom we are listening.  Each of us will have different ways that the Holy Spirit operates in us.  No matter what, may we be open to the Holy Spirit, who with the Father and the Son is God, for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Captain America vs. Iron Man

 Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

    It is a natural phenomenon that we tend to have favorites when there is a group of people.  Not long after starting at St. Matthew I got into a good and holy discussion with some young men while eating dinner at a family’s house about who was better: Iron Man or Captain America (the correct answer is Captain America, in case you’re wondering).  We, of course, discussed why we each thought the way we did, and I tried to help the young man understand why he was wrong in asserting that Iron Man was the better super hero.  Luckily the discussion did not resort to physical attacks, though some verbal jabs were exchanged here and there.
    St. Paul, in our second reading, talks about such rivalries, not concerning super heroes, but about leaders in the early Church.  Some were on “Team Paul,” others on “Team Apollos” (an early preacher who didn’t have the full Gospel at first, but then came to learn about it from other disciples), or “Team Cephas,” (St. Peter’s Aramaic name).  You can just imagine the smarty-pants who, after hearing discussions about belonging to Paul or Apollos or Peter, said, “Well, I belong to Christ.”  
    The draw to individuals is likely based in natural affinities to certain personality types.  Others can draw us by their charisma, or the way they present themselves, and we end up liking what they like, and feeling a sort of belonging to them.
    And when it stays at a surface level, then that draw to particular personalities does not need to be problematic.  But, when that draw to a church personality starts to divide us against each other and make us exclusive, then it becomes a problem.  Because, as St. Paul said, Christ is not divided, and no one else saves us except Christ, not even the greatest leaders of the faith.
    To have the mind of Christ, we would do well to remember that Christ called diverse apostles and disciples.  We heard about Jesus calling the a few of the Apostles today as Simon Peter and Andrew were called, and then James and John.  While Jesus called two sets of brothers, anyone who has raised two or more boys can tell you that, while there are similarities, there are also numerous differences between brothers.  I’m sure Peter and Andrew were, in some ways, very different people, just like James and John were, in some ways, very different people.  And yet, Christ called them all.  He called them to conversion, to be the best that they could be, but He called different types of personalities to follow Him.  
    It is so easy in the Church, even today, to pledge our allegiance to this or that group, to this or that ecclesiastic personality.  Again, to the extent that this priest or bishop draws us to Christ: praise God.  To the extent that we seek to divide and exclude those who don’t follow this or that priest or bishop, then we need to repent.  Sometimes priests and bishops don’t help things.  I don’t know a priest or bishop who begins by seeking fame and celebrity, but once attained, those things can draw one away from the humility that is required if one wants to serve Jesus, rather than one’s self.  How do you know someone has become too concerned with his celebrity?  How does that person react when a superior starts poking holes in that status, or curtails speaking gigs and event?  That says a lot.
    But it’s not just about priests and bishops.  The lay faithful, that is, you, sometimes also make it difficult for a unified Body of Christ approach, rather than a tribal approach to living the Gospel.  How often do people attend a parish because of this or that priest, or pass by a parish because of this or that priest.  Now, certainly, you have a right to hear the Gospel proclaimed, and not some dribble that is a priest’s personal soapbox or agenda.  You have a right to the celebration of the liturgy as the Church gives it, not as some priest decides that he wants to add words, or dancing, or his own form of celebration.  
    But how often is the refrain, “I don’t like that priest,” heard among Christ’s faithful?  When one of my uncles, as a child, complained to my grandfather (God rest his soul) that he didn’t like his teacher, my grandfather told my uncle he didn’t have to marry her, but he did have to respect her and behave in class, and do his best to learn.  You may not like a particular priest.  But as long as that priest preaches the Gospel (not his gospel), then we shouldn’t seek to divide the Body of Christ by putting this or that priest down, or giving our allegiance to a priest or bishop, rather than to God.  
    I would also say that a good priest, while preaching the Gospel, should make us take serious stock of our souls, at least from time to time.  If a priest is only preaching the things we want to hear, then he’s not really preaching the Gospel.  Jesus called all to conversion.  It was the Pharisees who only wanted to hear how good they were.  And that is not a good group with which to be associated.  
    Affinities naturally arise.  We rely on others to help bring us to Christ, because faith is never a purely private affair.  But we are part of Christ’s Church, and we have been called to be faithful to Him, not to any apostle or disciple.  Stay in that Church, no matter what priest comes or what happens to a parish, and so be a part of the diverse crowd that Jesus calls to become fishers of men.

The Ones the Lord Chooses

Mass of the Lord’s Supper
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  This is one of the weightier days for me as a priest.  I started this morning at the Chrism Mass, concelebrating with Bishop Boyea and my brother priests serving across the Diocese of Lansing.  Not only were the holy oils and Sacred Chrism blessed and consecrated, but we renewed the promises we made at our ordination.  It is a time of great joy, as we see each other again and catch up, and then celebrate the Mass together.  It’s a great way to celebrate the Institution of the ministerial priesthood, which took place on that first Holy Thursday.

    Then, as tonight starts, it is a very moving celebration, as I will wash the feet of twelve parishioners, this year from both St. Pius X and St. Matthew parishes.  What seems like a simple ritual has great import for me as a priest.  It is a reminder to me that my role as your pastor is to serve not to be served, and to give my life as a ransom for you.  Washing feet was awkward then because of the nature of how dirty feet were (given only sandals being worn, and likely some dung being mixed in with the dirt).  Now it’s the awkwardness of taking off shoes and socks.  But it is a treasured moment in my life. 
    Then, at the end of tonight, we will walk in solemn procession to the altar of repose and keep watch with our Lord, putting ourselves in Gethsemane.  The Lord was preparing for His Passion in Gethsemane.  At our altar of repose, I often think of the crosses I have borne in my ministry as pastor, some carried better than others.  I offer through Christ to the Eternal Father in the power of the Holy Spirit all that weighs upon me and all that weighs upon you as we seek to know and follow the will of God in our lives, no matter how joyful or painful it may be from day to day. 
    Returning to the washing of the feet, I couldn’t help but think of the Apostles, and what our Lord was doing for them, mixed bag as they were.  I think we have a tendency to think of them more like statues than anything else, religious icons of peace and serenity.  But the Gospels paint them as anything but.  Matthew, the tax collector and our patron here, was probably not easily accepted into the apostolic college, and perhaps treated with a bit of contempt among his fellow Apostles.  James and John were full of zeal, and John seems to have had a special bond with the Lord, perhaps because he was the only Apostle who was unmarried, like Jesus.  Andrew in the Gospels is a helper, as he is the one who brings the boy with the five loaves and the two fish to Christ.  Philip and Nathanael are pretty pragmatic, as Nathanael wonders if anything good can come from Nazareth and doesn’t believe until the Lord knows that Nathanael had been sitting under a tree, and Philip wonders how Christ could feed five thousand, given how many days’ wages it would have cost to secure food.  In the Last Supper discourse, Philip will also ask Christ to show them the Father, and that will be enough for them, to which the Lord responds that He who sees Him sees the Father.  We know little about the Simon, other than Simon belonged to the party of the Zealots, and James the Lesser was a cousin of the Lord.  Jude asks at the Last Supper why the Lord will reveal Himself to them only and not to the world, so perhaps he was hoping for a conquering king as a Messiah.  
    And then we come to Peter.  Peter was likely an extrovert, as he had to say something before he understood what he was thinking.  He has moments of greatness (think of his two great lines: “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God” and “To whom shall we go?  You have the words of everlasting life”); he has moments where you want to face palm (probably not a good thing if Christ says to you, “Get behind me, Satan”).  He at first refuses to have the Lord wash his feet, but then asks for an entire bath instead.  He swears he will not deny Christ, only to do so some hours later. 
    And, of course, Judas.  Christ washes his feet, but then Judas leaves in order to betray Christ.  Dante puts Judas in the lowest level of Hell because of his betrayal of God, even going so far as to betray the Prince of Peace with a kiss of peace.  He later regrets his betrayal, but despairs and takes his own life in shame.
    These were the ones Christ came to serve.  They were as different, unique, and diverse as we are.  They were not perfect; some far from it.  And yet Christ chose them.  He chose them to be His first priests, to hand on the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, which are not mind-teasers to be solved, but realities expressed in symbol that run far deeper than their physical representation.  He did so knowing that one would betray Him, and one would deny Him.  He did so knowing that all would scatter from the garden at His arrest, and only one would be at the foot of the cross with Him at His moment of greatest need.
    And that should give us hope.  Because Christ chose us, too.  He chose us knowing that we would sometimes fail, that we would sometimes deny that we know the Lord, and that we would sometimes abandon Him when the going got tough.  He knew that at times we, like Judas, would betray Him.  He chose us with our differences, our idiosyncrasies, our unique ways of seeing the world. 
    And, as long as we have repented for those times of betrayal, denial, and abandonment through the Sacrament of Penance, He invites us to eat of His Body, to be strengthened so that next time we might not betray, deny, and abandon.  Just as He instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper, the mystery of His Passion and Death presented for us under the appearance of bread and wine, but truly His Body and Blood, so He gives us Himself tonight so that we can stand with Him through His Passion, made present for us in these sacred liturgies of the Triduum. 
    The great sign of Christ’s service for us is how He gives Himself to us each time the Holy Mass is celebrated.  He serves us by nourishing us, strengthening us, sacrificing Himself for us so that we can have life within us.  As the hymn sings, “What wondrous love is this!” 
    So tonight, as you approach the altar to receive the Lord on your tongue, think not on your differences from each other; think not on the great things you have said of our Lord, or the horrible ways you have denied even knowing Him; think not on how you have helped the Lord to be known, or hidden His truth out of fear.  Think only of His love for you, a love that was obedient even to the point of death, death on the cross.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Drafted for the Gospel

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

There are things for which we want to be chosen.  As adults it’s often the job that we applied for, or maybe it’s the significant other that we’ve been dating, whom we hope will ask us to marry.  As children we may want to be chosen to be on the team with our friends on the playground, or for the school play.  I think we all know that the reality is that we often don’t get chosen for the things we want.  Maybe we don’t get the job; maybe we get dumped; maybe we don’t get the role we want or are not on the team we want.

A young man I know from when I was a priest in East Lansing, Cooper Rush, was chosen again and again for football teams, despite ever-increasing odds not to be chosen.  He was the quarterback for Lansing Catholic, holds records for an MHSAA playoff game, led Lansing Catholic one year to the State Championship (where, ironically, Lansing Catholic lost to Flint Powers).  He then was chosen to play quarterback at Central Michigan University, and was very successful at Central, going to bowl games and even holding a FBS Bowl Game record for most touchdowns passes in a Bowl Game.  Currently, he is a back-up quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys.  And besides being a good athlete, he is also an upstanding man.

The odds of him making it to the NFL weren’t that good.  One stat from 2015 says that there were 1.087 million high school football players.  Of those, 310,000 high school football players were seniors.  Of those, only 70,000 were chosen to be on an NCAA football team.  Of those, on 20,000 played on an NCAA team.  Of those 20,000, about 15,500 were college seniors.  Of those 15,500 seniors, 6,500 were scouted by the NFL, and only 350 were invited to a combine to show their football skills.  Of those, 256 players were drafted by the NFL.  The odds of being chosen for high school, college, and professional football are about 1.6 out of 100.

The odds of being chosen to preach the Gospel, however, are much better.  Every baptized person has been chosen, drafted, we might say, to preach the Gospel both by deeds and words.  And while we might not think of ourselves as a draft pick, we heard in our first reading and Gospel about some unlikely characters who are chosen.

In the first reading, we hear about Jonah being asked by God to preach to the citizens of Nineveh.  God asks Jonah to tell them to repent, to turn away from their sinful, pagan ways.  Jonah didn’t want to go; he hated Nineveh, the capital of the Assyrian Empire which had exiled the members of the northern kingdom of Israel.  Jonah even tried to run away, but God did not abandon Jonah or let him off the hook.  And even when Jonah preached repentance, he hoped that the Assyrians would not listen, so that God could destroy the pagan empire.  Probably not a first round evangelist.

And in the Gospel we hear about Jesus calling the first apostles: Simon, Andrew, James, and John.  They were not rabbis.  There were not the educated elite of Judaism.  They were fishermen.  But Jesus saw something in them that He knew would be important for having as disciple.  It wasn’t always obvious to others, though.  Peter always seemed to speak before thinking, denied Jesus during His Passion, and even almost ran away from his martyrdom in Rome.  James and John were the ones who asked for a privileged spot in the kingdom of God, in front of the line of the other apostles, and asked Jesus to call down fire upon the Samaritan towns when they wouldn’t receive Jesus on His journey to Jerusalem.  And even the other apostles were not seemingly the best catch: Matthew was a tax collector; Thomas doubted; Simon wanted to violently overthrow the Roman government; and they were all uneducated, simple people.  And yet Jesus called each of them to preach the Gospel.

You may not think it, but Jesus has also called you to preach the Gospel.  When you were baptized you were committed or you committed yourself to being a disciple of Jesus, to conforming your life to His, to sharing with others the good news of what Jesus has done for us (freeing us from sin and death).  You may not think you have what it takes, but Jesus does.  And even if you feel like you need to know more, that’s why we have Bible studies, and faith sharing groups, and formational events both here, in the greater-Flint area, and across the Diocese, events like the Men’s and Women’s Conferences.  If you don’t feel like you have what it takes, then work towards that goal of having what it takes.  Make your faith life more than simply coming to Mass on Sundays and holydays.  Get involved in deepening your faith and maybe volunteering in our parish ministries.  You might just be the one to bring another person to Jesus.

Finish Strong!

Solemnity of Pentecost

In high school track I was a short distance runner.  I usually ran the 100m dash, 200m dash, 100m relay, and/or 200m relay.  I always said that as far as running went, if I wasn’t done in 26 seconds or less, something had gone horribly wrong.  But at one meet, perhaps because my track coach was a sadist, he asked me to run a 400m dash.  I had never run it before, never trained for it before, and had no desire to run it.  But, coach was telling me to run the event.  And how bad could it be?  It was only once around the track.

As the gun fired to start us, I tried to set a pace that I felt would make me competitive in the second heat.  Even though I wasn’t prepared for it, I didn’t want to lose and embarrass myself or my team.  So I pushed it.  After about 200m, I realized just how long 400m was as my legs started to ache.  The two things which were competing to win at that point were the fatigue in my muscles and my pride not to lose.  As I crossed the finish line, I think I got third.  What I remember more vividly was that my legs felt like jello, and I was sure I was going to fall down.  But, I had given it everything I had, and had finished strong.

Today, as we come to the end of our Easter Season and celebrate the Solemnity of Pentecost, we should want to finish strong.  Of course, we’re not totally done with life, but we are done with the Easter Season.  And we finish our Easter Season the way that the Apostles began their public ministry: with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

We hear about that gift in the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, a story with which we are likely pretty familiar.  There is a great wind, and then the Holy Spirit appears over the heads of the apostles and disciples like tongues of fire.  Immediately the disciples are compelled to speak about Jesus and how He was raised from the dead and offers us new life in Him.

As Catholics we may be a little uncomfortable with the Holy Spirit.  God the Father is someone we’re familiar with, but we can often keep Him at arm’s length, since He seems so mysterious.  Jesus is someone with whom we’re much more familiar, we know the stories from His life, but even He can seem a little distant, since He is seated at the right hand of the Father.  But He tends to be the focus of most of our prayers.  But the Holy Spirit–that’s the one who seems to make things go out of control.  Maybe we’ve even seen people who claim to have the Holy Spirit and they do what we consider “weird” things like speaking in tongues or having the gift of prophecy.  Perhaps we’re not that comfortable with the Holy Spirit.

But we need not be afraid of the gift of the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit is the one who continues the ministry of Jesus in the Church.  He does give some people special gifts like speaking in tongues, prophecy, healing, etc., but He also showers His gifts upon all believers.  And we hear about some of those gifts that we can experience in the Scriptures.

At the Vigil Mass the first reading was from Genesis, and was the Tower of Babel.  The people all want to get to God on their own terms, but God makes them speak all different languages.  The unity of the people is not based on God, but on becoming the masters of their destinies, and so they are scattered.  But in the story of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit helps the people to have access to God by hearing the Good News of the Gospel of Jesus spoken to them in their languages.  And we experience that in our own way today: our Gospel was proclaimed in Latin, the mother-tongue of our Latin Rite church, and some of our petitions this weekend will be proclaimed in the languages of our parishioners, including Malayalam (from India), Tagalog (from the Philippines), Spanish, German, Arabic, and Italian.  And while perhaps we don’t all understand all these languages, they reflect the diversity of our cultures, and yet the unity of the faith, because what we believe is the same, no matter in what language it is proclaimed.

The Holy Spirit also gives us each gifts to build up the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church.  We all have certain gifts to build up our parish, our diocese, and the universal Church that the Holy Spirit encourages us to use.  Some of us garden and do yard work, some teach, some cook, some comfort the sorrowing, some serve as Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion or Lectors.  I am sure that some of our parishioners, besides being called to these ministries, are also called in the future to a vocation to the priesthood or diaconate, or to consecrated life as a sister or nun.  

The question for us is whether or not we are willing to respond to the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit may lead us to new circumstances that are unfamiliar for us, just as the foreign lands to which the apostles went were unfamiliar to them.  But if it is the Holy Spirit calling us to them, then we know it is for the building of the Church and the spreading of the Gospel.  Do not be afraid of the Holy Spirit, but be open to His gifts, and then, with the courage the Holy Spirit gives us, use all that we have to continue to ministry of Jesus in the world!

Jesus in Hicksville

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Sometimes the name of a place is used, but then no one really knows where it is.  For example, people will still sometimes say, “She lives to Timbuktu,” to express that the woman lives very far away.  But if you ask people where Timbuktu is, most people don’t know, other than the fact that it’s far away.  Other people might think it’s a made-up city.  In fact, Timbuktu is a real city in the West African country of Mali.  Now, as Americans aren’t always the best at geography, even saying it’s in Mali in West Africa might not help.  So, hopefully to make it clearer, Mali is north of the countries of Ivory Coast and Ghana.  If you’re still not clear where Timbuktu is, you can google it when you get home.

For Jews hearing about the lands of Zebulun and Naphtali, they would have understood where that was.  We, as 21st century Americans, probably just glossed over those names, and figured that they are some weird names from a time long past.  Zebulun and Naphtali were two of the 12 sons of Jacob, also known as Israel.  Long after they died, the tribes that bore their names received land in the Promised Land.  They were not the strongest tribes or the most distinguished for anything, and they became the part of Israel that broke away after King Solomon died.  They were later conquered by the Assyrians, and mixed Judaism with the pagan religions.  For observant Jews, those lands were backward, not faithful, and not a destination.  We might use the term “Hicksville” to describe it.

But the Prophet Isaiah promised that God, after degrading those lands, would give it a great light, to bring it out of darkness.  God would give them great joy, as at a harvest festival, and would end their slavery.  God promises good things for those who, for centuries, were not seen as entitled to good things.

That promise was fulfilled in Jesus.  Jesus goes to Capernaum, “in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali,” to preach the Gospel, saying, “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.’”  Jesus is the one who is the Light of the World, and gives them light by revealing the good news of salvation in Him.  Jesus cures the sick and expels demons, something that would cause anyone to rejoice.  And Jesus would eventually destroy the slavery of sin by His death on the cross.  Jesus was the perfect fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy to “Hicksville.”  While Jerusalem was the place to be because of the temple, and was the center of religious life for any Jew, God, in the Person of Jesus, goes to places that other religious leaders had long since abandoned.  

And while in “Hicksville,” Jesus begins to form His new Church.  He choses Twelve Apostles, some of whose names we begin to hear at the end of today’s Gospel: Simon, later called Peter, and his brother, Andrew, as well as James and John, the sons of Zebedee.  These four are fisherman.  They are not well educated, and while they practiced Judaism, they were not scholars of it.  None of them were rabbis or scribes.  

In one sense, as people who live in the greater-Flint area, we should be able to relate to the land of Zebulun and Naphtali.  Flint may not be “Hicksville,” but it’s not exactly the top destination of Michigan.  Generally, people are not climbing over each other to move into Flint, as we all well know.  But that does not mean that God has abandoned us.  To the contrary, God still brings light to people who walk in darkness, and still wants to crush the slavery of sin in our lives.  

We see that through the care of Bishop Boyea, a successor to the apostles, for Flint.  Besides the entire Faith in Flint initiative, which seeks to gather the resources of the Diocese of Lansing to assist the Catholic and even non-Catholic population of Flint, no other region in the Diocese has so many young, dynamic priests like Fr. Zach Mabee, Fr. Paul Donnelly, Fr. James Mangan, and Fr. Dan Kogut.  Just as God has a special love for what Biblical scholars refer to as the anawim, the poor and outcast, so Bishop Boyea has shown his special love for Flint by sending all-star priests to build-up the faithful and spread the Gospel.

But God is also calling you to build up the Church.  While we priests do our best to support the faithful with the graces which flow from the sacramental life of the Church, it is the faithful who are called in particular to spread the Gospel and build up the Church.  It is by encountering Christ, even here in Flint, which strengthens us to live our faith, not just for an hour on Sundays, but seven days a week in our homes and workplaces.  Faith sharing groups like ARISE are meant to strengthen our faith and give us the courage to be sent out, which in Greek comes from the word 𝛂𝛑𝛐𝛔𝛕𝛐𝛌𝛐𝛊, which means those who are sent out.

The strength of this parish comes from your response to God’s grace.  If you engage your faith, and make it something that is not only about Sundays, we will be a strong parish.  If we are willing to be challenged to conform our lives more closely to Jesus, and then to be sent out to show and tell others about that transformation in our lives, then Flint will become a place of blessing, a place Jesus is at work.  God calls us to repent and spread the good news of the kingdom of heaven.  Will we respond to God’s call?

Peering into Jesus' Last Hours

Mass of the Lord’s Supper

I invite you to close your eyes.  Take a deep breath in.  Breathe out.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Calm your heart, mind, and soul.  Put behind you the busyness of the day and just be with God.  Now, imagine for a second that you were going to die tomorrow, and that you only have a few hours to speak with anyone.  Who would be with you?  Would it be a spouse, your immediate family, or a friend?  What would you say?  What would you do?

We gather tonight, glancing in on Jesus’ last hours with His closest friends, the Apostles.  It almost seems like snooping.  The upper room is likely decorated in a noble, yet simple way, ready for the celebration of Pesach, the Passover.  Unleavened bread is on the table.  There are bitter herbs, charoseth, and wine in ceremonial dishes.  But the Passover, the sacred remembering that is more than just calling a past event to mind, is not supposed to be celebrated on Thursday, but on Friday night.  Still, Jesus knows that He will not be able to celebrate it with them on Friday.  As the Apostles enter the room, Jesus takes off His outer garment to wash their feet–feet crusted with dirt from walking, likely with some small sores from pebbles.  He, the Master, performs the task of the slave, giving the Apostles a command, a command they will not understand for at least three days, that as princes themselves of the New Israel, they are to follow the example of the Master and wash others’ feet.

Having finished washing their feet, Jesus begins the celebration of the Passover.  But before the breaking of bread and before the sharing of the cup, Jesus prophesies that one of the Twelve will betray Him, and Judas leaves.  Having, then, only the Eleven who are faithful, as faithful as they can be, Jesus institutes at the same time the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist and the Priesthood, as He, the Lord of the Passover, changes the Mosaic Rite and adds His own words.  But even in the midst of His most faithful, Jesus also tells St. Peter that he will deny Him before the cock crows.  And then Jesus begins His High Priestly Prayer, speaking to the Father in words so intimate that the Apostles must have simply sat there and listened and felt they were intruding on something that was profoundly personal.  

In His last hour, Jesus gathers His friends, not even His mother, and gives them a way to be connected throughout all time by establishing a presence through the Eucharist and a  presence through priestly ordination and configuration.  In His last hour, Jesus expresses His love and confidence to the Father, even as the powers of darkness are closing in around Him.  In His last hour, Jesus reassures his Apostles, His friends, and tells them not to let their hearts be troubled, and that while they cannot follow now, they will follow Jesus later, because He is the way and the truth and the life.  He promises them an Advocate who will defend them, even as the world hates them.  And then Jesus goes to pray on the Mount of Olives, exchanging the camaraderie of his chosen band for the utter loneliness of knowing what will happen next, as the Apostles sleep, exhausted from the weight and the power of those moments in the Upper Room.

Tonight we peer into that sacred moment.  We begin the three days that are one, the Triduum, with a Mass that will not be concluded until the dismissal at the Easter Vigil.  We recall, not simply in a retelling, but in an event that seems to take us back in time, the mandatum, the mandate of service in the washing of feet; we are connected to Jesus’ Passion once more in the perfect sacrifice of the Son of God, made present to us by the Eucharist, and offered by the Priest, configured to Christ the Head and Shepherd through Holy Order, to join the offering of the entire People of God to that of Jesus on the cross; we walk with Jesus to a place where we can feel the darkness closing in.  

We do not know when our last hours of life will be.  But if we did, who would we ask to be there with us?  What would we say?  What would we do?  As we enter into the last moments of Jesus’ earthly ministry, He gathers His closest friends, serves them, and establishes two ways that His presence would continue through them.  Tonight Jesus desires to be with us, to serve us, and have union with us through the Eucharist.  Will we watch and pray with Him?

The Best Things

Second Sunday of Advent

            From time to time, surfing through the channels on the TV, I’ll see a worship service for a mega-church, or a televangelist ministry.  Most times I skip over them, but every once in a while I stop and listen to what is being said.  Because we share faith in Jesus Christ, a lot of what is said is very familiar and is consistent with what the Church teaches.  However, there are some that preach what’s called the “Gospel of Prosperity,” that is, if you tithe 10% of your adjusted gross income, and you come to Church, and you do all these different things, you’ll never have to worry about money, a house, family problems, etc.  It’s easy to see why people are drawn to that message: who wouldn’t want all the good things that this earth has to offer?  But often, those who are truly striving to live out their faith do have to struggle with a lot of issues, whether of money, or health, or family.  Our view, then, as Catholics, is not quite the same as those who preach the Gospel of Prosperity.

            However, the Word of God tells us today, and we certainly believe, that God wants the best for us.  God doesn’t just want a mediocre life for us, floating along with some good stuff, and some bad stuff.  God wants the best for us.  But God’s beneficence, His over-flowing goodness, is not limited to the things of this earth.  In fact, the things of this world often get in the way of truly drawing closer to God, though this is not always the case.

            Today in our first reading, the Prophet Baruch proclaims to us that God wants to do us good!  He wants us to take off our robes of mourning and misery, and put on the garment of rejoicing, the cloak of justice.  God wants the best for us, and He is going to make that best thing possible.  He is going to level the mountains for us so that we don’t have to climb, and he’s going to fill in the valleys for us so that the way is not hard.  He will lead us in joy “by the light of his glory, with his mercy and justice.”  Where is this path leading us, this level path?  This path is the path to the best things in life, which is not a thing at all, but a Person, a Communion of Persons, a Trinity of Persons, God Himself.  The best of all is God, and He wants to give us Himself.  That is why we pray and wait during this Advent season, to recall the moment when we could see the face of God in Jesus, and to get ready for that time when Jesus will come again, not as a little baby, but in all His glory in majesty.

            But, because we have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God, as St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans, we need guides.  Sometimes we can see the path and we’re ready to start walking.  Other times we lose sight of where we should be going, and we need a person to show us the way.  That’s where our Gospel comes in.

            St. Luke tells us about the ultimate trail guide of all time, St. John the Baptist.  He came to prepare the way of the Lord.  He came to show the straight path, to announce that the valleys have been filled in and the mountains have been made low, and the rough ways have been made smooth so that all people can see the salvation of God.  He’s there to point out the way, to announce it, and to prepare people to make that journey to true prosperity with God, the prosperity, the blessedness, of the saints.  St. John the Baptist preaches repentance, the way to see the path, to recognize Jesus who is Himself the Way.  He is the one who points to Jesus, when He comes, and says, “Behold the Lamb of God!  Behold him who takes away the sins of the world!”  Because of this, Jesus says of him that of those born from women, there is none greater than John the Baptist.

            And yet, Jesus also says that the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than St. John the Baptist.  How can this be?  How can we be greater than the Precursor of the Lord?  Well, we, too, are called to point out the Lamb of God.  We, too, are called to help others find that path to true blessedness, the path that leads to God.  Under the guidance of Holy Mother Church, who tenderly and firmly helps us to understand what God has revealed through Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit, we are called to point out to others the way to true happiness.  Sometimes it happens by correction, or advice to avoid this or do that, whether it be with a family member, a co-worker, a friend, or whomever.  Other times it is simply by the joy and peace that we display as we conform our lives, not to this age and its opinions, but to the enduring Word of God, which is the same yesterday, today, and forever, even as it is applied in new ways to ever-changing circumstances.  We, like St. John the Baptist and (dare I say) the Blues Brothers, are on a mission from God, to help others find that straight, level path to God.

            Sometimes it will mean prosperity for us.  There are certainly many people to whom God gives many blessings, and invites them to share those blessings with others.  Other times, those closest to God are the ones who suffer the most, like Job, the apostles, the saints who were martyred, saints who put up with great trials like St. Kateri, St. Damien of Molokai, Bl. Teresa of Calcutta.  Some people very easily understand the loving and cheeky words of St. Teresa of Avila, “Lord, if this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them!”  But, whether, by the standards of this world, we are blessed or cursed, what truly matters is that we are prospering in drawing closer to God and following His will in all things, so that we can follow along the straight and level path to God, which will give us the desire of every heart, and the best thing that there is: communion with the Blessed Trinity itself.

The Sound (and Power!) of Silence

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            “How does God speak to you?”  It’s a question I get asked a lot, especially when talking about my discernment to become a priest.  “How did you know, Father, that God was calling you to be a priest?  Did you hear a voice?”  We want to know how God communicates to us, to see if He is communicating with us.

            We have three paradigms for divine communication in today’s readings.  I usually work towards the Gospel in preaching, but this time I’m going to go from the Gospel to the first reading.  And each reading contains ways that God communicates to us.

            In our Gospel, Jesus speaks to the disciples in the boat, as I am speaking to you.  But whereas many of us probably think that if God were to speak to us, we would clearly understand what He was saying and do whatever He asked, this isn’t true with the disciples.  They have been with Jesus for some time, hearing Him preach, watching Him heal the sick and possessed.  And yet, when Jesus appears, walking on the sea, they figure that it’s a ghost.  They do not recognize Jesus.  Peter, to ascertain Jesus’ identity, asks Jesus to command Peter to walk on water.  And when St. Peter does, but then falters, it is Jesus who picks him up and helps him back into the boat.  In this way, we see two ways that Jesus speaks to us: in the first way, He speaks to us in the same way that I am speaking with you now, so that we can hear His voice.  But what is surprising is that, just like the disciples, we don’t always recognize the voice of Jesus even when it’s a voice.  Secondly, Jesus speaks through His care for the disciples.  When Jesus rescues Peter from drowning, He is communicating through His actions that He will never allow Peter to sink amidst the crashing waves.  We see in this the foreshadowing of Jesus’ protection of His Church, sometimes referred to as the Barque or Boat of Peter, which is not allowed to sink in the storms of world events.

            The second paradigm is in St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans.  St. Paul says, “I speak the truth in Christ, I do not lie.”  God speaks to us through His apostles, those whom Jesus called and sent out to build up and oversee the Church.  The bishops, as successors to the apostles, when speaking on matters of faith or morals speak “the truth in Christ.”  To them is given the charism, when they are united to the Pope, to teach what belongs to the faith infallibly.  Just as St. Paul says elsewhere, “It is not longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me,” the bishops are given the grace to teach, not by their own authority, but with the authority of Christ on matters of faith and morals.  If we want to hear God speaking about what we must believe, and how we must live to as to be faithful to Christ, we can look to the bishops, the successors of the apostles, to hear the voice of God.

            The last paradigm from our readings comes from the first reading, and is a very powerful way that God communicates.  We hear the inspired author tell us that Elijah, the greatest prophet in all the Old Testament, did not hear God in the heavy winds, nor the earthquake, nor the fire.  No, Elijah heard the voice of God in the whisper heard in the silence.  This voice was so powerful, that Elijah, who had called down fire from the heavens to consume the oblation, offered to the true God to shame the prophets of Baal, had to hide his face because He heard God in the silence.

            Silence is a very powerful expression of God’s voice.  It is in silence that the great things of God happen.  When God created the universe, He did so in silence.  In the silence of meditation, according to most artistic renditions, Mary heard the Archangel Gabriel tell her that God had called her to be the Mother of the Son of God.  And in the silence of the night, the Word-Made-Flesh came to be known by us as He was born in Bethlehem.  In fact, in the extraordinary form of the Mass, what some call the Tridentine Mass, part of the Liturgy includes a prophecy from the Book of Wisdom about the Incarnation.  Romano Guardini quotes it in The Lord, his meditation on the life of Christ: “‘For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in the midst of her course, thy almighty word leapt down from heaven from thy royal throne.’”  Likewise, the Resurrection happens in the silence of the early morning, when the guards are asleep and no one expects Christ to rise from the dead.

            In our days, however, we manage to cut out as much silence as possible.  Are we afraid of being alone with God?  Are we afraid of what God would say?  The answer is probably as diverse as the number of people here.  I bet that if I remained silent for a long period of time during the Mass, we would try to find ways to break the silence: thumbing through hymnal pages, reading the bulletin, looking around to others.  But we need silence.  My practice is to always give up the radio and music during Lent so as to allow more time for God to speak to me in His power.  But we don’t just need silence in Lent.  We need it all throughout the year. 

            We’re taught in seminary that every homily (at least the good ones) should have a practical way to apply the readings to life.  Today we’ll apply this teaching by taking some extended time of silence, first after my homily, and then after the reception of Holy Communion.  Listen to God during this time.  Don’t just make it a time of doing nothing, but make it a time of active listening to the whisper of God, heard only in the silence.