Mark 10:45

Category: Homily

  • The Harvest is Coming

    The Harvest is Coming

    Saturday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time

    Jeremiah 7:1-11; Psalm 84:2; James 1:21; Matthew 13:24-30

    Like all parables, the intriguing parable we hear today contains a twist or surprise that is designed by our Lord to make us think. The twist is that the sower decided to leave the weeds in the field. Very few gardeners or farmers, then or now, would expect that. Why not let the servants pull them, so the wheat can more easily flourish?

    I think there are a couple of reasons. First, as the wheat and the weed (here, darnel) begin to grow, they look very much alike; the servants could easily mistake one for the other. Second, as they mature, the roots get entangled; pulling one will almost certainly take the other along with it. Clearly, the sower doesn’t want to do anything that would risk losing even a single grain of wheat.

    This is like the infinite, merciful love of God for us. He has given us Christ, sent us into the world, made available all the graces we need, and is with us always. As Christ said earlier in this same gospel when he invited us to take his yoke upon our shoulders, he is even willing to bear most of the load.

    Even with all that, it’s still not easy. The sower knows that letting the wheat and weed grow together makes it harder for the wheat to grow. Then why do it? Because anything worth having is worth working for. In the spiritual life, virtues only develop when they have something to work against. How do we grow in courage without facing fear, or in patience without being pushed, or in charity without the temptation to be selfish? By allowing the presence of evil, God challenges goodness to become greatness.

    Of course, repentance is a process. It’s not going to happen overnight. Fortunately, as the parable also implies, God gives us time. But we must use it to full advantage. Recall how Jeremiah pictured the people standing in the Temple, unrepentant yet saying, “We are safe.” God’s response probably sounds familiar; Jesus will use it later against the Temple authorities: den of thieves (Jeremiah 7:11). The worst thing we can be is complacent, satisfied with where we are in our relationship with God and each other. There is always more to do. Thus, the parable invites us to see not only that we are wheat in the field of the world, but that the wheat and weeds exist inside each of us as well. How can the Church, God’s dwelling place, be lovely if His dwelling place within us is not?

    Finally, the parable reminds us that, while God is patient and merciful, He is also just. Both the wheat and weed faced a reckoning – the harvest – and the sower has definite plans for each: Burn or barn. For us, too, the harvest is coming, and God will make a similar decision about us. We know which one we want, so let’s not put it off; the time is now to do what the Gospel acclamation urged: Humbly welcome the word that has been planted in you and is able to save your souls (James 1:21).

    —

  • The Real Power of One

    The Real Power of One

    13th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

    Wisdom 1:13-15; 2:23-24; Psalm 30:4; 2 Corinthians 8:7, 9, 13-15; Mark 5:21-43

    Just before the outbreak of World War II, a young stockbroker from England named Nicholas Winton traveled to Czechoslovakia to see if he could help with the refugees pouring across the German border, many of them Jewish. What he saw so moved him – large numbers of children, many orphaned or lost – that he felt he must do something. It took awhile, but he organized a system to bring as many of these children as he could to northern England for the duration of the war. One of the biggest obstacles he faced was trust; as one rabbi put it, “Who are you?”

    Last week, we heard the disciples ask the same question about Jesus. Then, and to this day, people wonder not only who he is, but whether to believe in him. For some, like the refugees, it literally is a question of life or death. We meet two of them today: The first, a man of wealth and influence; the second, a woman, outcast and lurking in the shadows. Of course, Christ is most interested in what lies beneath these appearances; he wanted to see their faith. And not only see it, but transform them by it.

    At first, he didn’t see the woman’s faith, he felt it. She didn’t want to be seen, and was content to touch only his garment, believing that if she touched Jesus himself, her impurity would spread to him. But the opposite is true with God; his purity spreads to us. And look at the effect it had! Jesus asked who touched him, not because he didn’t know, but because he wanted to engage her, to let her tell her story. Physical healing wasn’t enough; she also needed inner catharsis. Who could blame her after twelve years of the pain, loneliness, and frustration that could tempt anyone to despair?

    He had a different challenge in mind for Jairus. When he came to Jesus, Jairus believed he could heal his daughter’s illness. But, when news came that the girl had died, Jesus told him not to be afraid, but to have faith. Didn’t he have faith? Well, it’s one thing to believe that Jesus can heal someone, another to believe that he can raise them from the dead. Jairus knew the psalm we heard today, including the verse, O LORD, you brought me up from the netherworld; you preserved me from among those going down into the pit (Psalm 30:4). Now, Jesus challenged him to have faith not only that those words were true, but that he is the LORD who would fulfill them. He did, and we know what happened; his faith was more than rewarded. His daughter was alive again.

    You might have noticed how the healings both involve the number 12: the woman bled for twelve years, while the girl died at age twelve. As for the woman, her flow of blood meant that she was unable to have children all that time. As for the girl, twelve was the age when women became eligible to be married. Thus, the Holy Spirit is teaching us that when Jesus heals, he not only restores life, but the ability to give life to others.

    This has huge ramifications in the spiritual life. Earlier, I mentioned Nicholas Winton. When the rabbi asked him who he was and why he wanted to do this, he said that he was one man; as for why he wanted to, he said, “Because I can, I must try.” Once people had faith in him, he was able to save 669 children who otherwise would have gone to death camps. As it turned out, those children grew up, and many had families of their own. It is estimated that by the time Winton died in July of 2015, his actions directly affected at least 6000 more lives. As the years go on, that will only increase, all because one man’s encounter moved him to challenge himself that others might live.

    We, too, are only one person. But think of all the encounters we have every day, with other people and, in contemplation, with ourselves. Every one of those is Christ’s challenge to us to make a difference for the better, to give and to speak life. Who is the woman, bleeding in pain, loneliness, or frustration, in need of the catharsis that only confession to Christ can give? Who is the man needing to understand Jesus more deeply, needing someone to show him how life-changing faith is? Sometimes, they’re out in the open, sometimes the shadows. Sometimes, they are us. At all times, think what the effect would be, not only on that person, but on all the people they affect because we decided that, because we can, we must try.

    —

  • Embracing the Embrace

    Embracing the Embrace

    Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul, Apostles

    Most saints have a day set aside for them. For example, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton is honored on January 4th. The day is chosen because that’s when they entered eternal life, or, in the case of the Virgin Mary or John the Baptist, when it’s their birthday. Other saints are celebrated in pairs or groups, like Timothy and Titus, or Charles Lwanga and Companions. This is often because they were related, worked together, or were martyred together. Regardless, Mass in honor of them is usually a Memorial, or sometimes the higher rank of Feast.

    Sts. Peter and Paul stand apart in a few ways. First, today was chosen not to remember their martyrdom, but because June 29th is the traditional anniversary of the founding of Rome. Second, the Church accords this Mass the highest liturgical rank of Solemnity. Finally, their icon, or the traditional image used to teach about them, is unusual. Most icons feature symbols held by the saint, such as the cross for St. Francis or the infant Jesus for Mary; however, the icon of Sts. Peter and Paul depicts them embracing.

    I wondered why, so I looked around for answers. It seems that some people focus not on the embrace but on the distinctions or differences between the men: Peter symbolizing governance and Paul missionary work, or Peter the Church’s highest authority figure and Paul her greatest theologian. Others claimed that in the icon the two men appear to be looking past one another, inferring that Peter and Paul may not have seen see eye to eye.

    While there is truth in these perspectives, we must embrace the embrace. Even if the two figures do symbolize major aspects of the Church, like governance and missions or authority and theology, what does the embrace signify, if not that neither one can do without the other? The Church must be governed and there must be authority, but who will be governed or under authority unless the missions bring people in and theologians enlighten them about the mysteries of God? Paul understood that. Although he did have trouble with Peter, he still recognized his authority; he only preached the gospel after going to Jerusalem and meeting with Peter (Galatians 1:18). Even years later, Paul returned to Jerusalem, met with Peter, James, and John, and ensured they were in unity (Galatians 2:9). And it worked both ways; although Peter did say that Paul was hard to understand at times, he also referred to him as our beloved brother (2 Peter 3:15-16).

    So, as we remember them today, let us keep this embrace in mind, for Sts. Peter and Paul are patron saints of more than just the city of Rome; they are the patron saints of everyone who hears the word of God and tries to do it, who embraces not only those who agree with them but those who don’t, who embraces their own humanity and allows God to sanctify it, and who offer themselves completely, that the will of God be done.

    Sts. Peter and Paul, pray for us.

    —

  • The Most Surpassing Gift

    The Most Surpassing Gift

    Memorial of St. Anthony of Padua, Priest and Doctor of the Church

    1 Kings 18:41-46; Psalm 65:10, 11, 12-13; Matthew 5:20-26

    Today is the Memorial of St. Anthony of Padua. Although time doesn’t permit us to look very deeply into his life, this man is such a great saint that even a summary can help us understand something important about God and ourselves.

    Born in Lisbon in 1195, Fernando Martins de Bulhões became an Augustinian priest near his home in Portugal, but spent most of his life as a Franciscan named Anthony. He wanted to be a missionary to the Muslims in Africa; he became a theologian. He wanted to be a martyr; he became a teacher. He wanted a quiet life of menial labor; he became a renowned preacher against heresy and the first theology instructor of the new Franciscan order. He wanted to die in Padua; he died on his way there.

    In the gospel, Jesus said that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter into the Kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:20). It isn’t that the scribes and Pharisees have no righteousness, it’s that ours must be surpassing. In life, there is good and there is better; we may be in good health, but we can be healthier. This also applies to the spiritual life; we may have a good understanding of the bible or the Church, but we can always learn more, and, in so doing, grow closer to God.

    Everything Anthony wanted was good. Being an Augustinian, a missionary, a martyr, living an ascetic life, serving in the lowest place, are all very good. Nevertheless, God had something better, something surpassing, in mind for him. All people, good and evil alike, are called to conversion. Everyone can grow in holiness.

    While growth in holiness sounds great, in practice it means that sometimes we will find ourselves in places we don’t expect, doing things we didn’t plan on doing. If we are ever tempted to see these as mistakes, deviations from the plan, the life of St. Anthony shows the opposite; they may be the plan. We may be exactly where God wants us.

    How do we know? By looking at the fruit of our labor. Again, consider St. Anthony. All his desires – to be an Augustinian, a martyr, a servant in a monastery – would have had wonderful effects, touching many lives for the better. For most of us, any of these would be a surpassing gift. But God had given Fernando a brilliant mind, capable not only of understanding deep theological concepts, but of being able to express them simply, clearly, and profoundly. These, along with his passion and humility, would sway the hearts of thousands otherwise lost to the heresy sweeping across western Europe. Thus, Anthony of Padua had gifts that could change the course of the Church herself forever.

    He couldn’t know that at the time, any more than we know how our choices will affect others. But therein lies his true greatness; like Elijah’s servant who kept looking for God in the storm, St. Anthony looked for God always and everywhere in the events of his life until he found Him, and then listened to and obeyed Him. We are called to do the same. Like that servant, all we may see at first is the “storm” – the illness, the suffering, the things we’d rather not do. But, if we’re vigilant, if we keep looking with the eyes of faith, God will give us the grace to see ourselves as the psalm does; that through these storms, our Lord prepares us to receive Him. There is pain in breaking into the soil to do that, but how else can the seed grow into a rich harvest? This is how God loves us, and love is His most surpassing gift; He gives it to us every day, at every Mass, in every Eucharist. As St. Anthony and all the saints show us, with the grace of this gift, there is nothing we cannot do.

    St. Anthony of Padua, pray for us.

    —

  • The Battle of Wills

    The Battle of Wills

    The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (B)

    Exodus 24:3-8; Psalm 116:12; Hebrews 9:11-15; Mark 14:12-16, 22-26

    As a young parent, I learned the hard way that, when you want to get a 2 year-old to do something, you don’t begin any sentence with the words, “Do you want to…” It doesn’t take long to find out that when the child replies, “No,” it becomes a battle of wills, and one of the strongest forces on Earth is the will of a 2 year-old.

    Of course, it isn’t just kids; people of every age can be very determined to see their will is done. We see it in Scripture. For example, the two verses of Mark’s gospel just before today’s reading tell us of Judas’s will to hand Jesus over to the chief priests. But we also see that Jesus has anticipated this, and has a very strong will of his own. That’s why he gives such detailed instructions to the two disciples about following a man to find the upper room. He doesn’t want Judas to know that location yet, because he has plans for that meal and will not tolerate being arrested there.

    We see why in the second part of the gospel, for Jesus speaks the words we hear at the consecration. This also shows his will at work, for as the first reading showed, Jesus didn’t choose those words because he liked the way they sounded; he used them because they were patterned after the words spoken by Moses centuries before, when he sacrificed the bulls and sprinkled both the altar and the people with their blood.

    And our Lord’s will runs as deep as his blood, as we begin to see in the second reading. While the Old Testament sacrifice of animals was effective, it was never intended by God to be perfect. Why? Because, the animal , although innocent, was also an unwilling victim. For the perfect atonement of the sins of all mankind, the victim had to be not only innocent, but also totally willing to give up his life.

    This is the heart of today’s Solemnity: the triumph of Christ’s human will. Without his willingness to give up his life, there could be no crucifixion, no resurrection, no eternal redemption, and no Holy Communion. And this is the heart of his love for us, for love is an act of the will, and as he said so beautifully in John’s gospel, there is no greater love than to lay down your life for your friends.

    But Christ’s sacrifice does us no good unless we’re willing to love him in return, so the question for us is, as the psalmist sang, How shall I make a return to the LORD for all the good he has done for me (Psalm 116:12)? I can think of three ways:

    • Preparation. Christ made sure the upper room was prepared. How do we prepare ourselves for Mass? We can begin as we are getting ready at home and while we’re on our way; we can arrive early, take time to talk to God, to tell Him what’s in our heart and on our mind. It isn’t that God doesn’t already know, it’s that He wants us to share, to make an effort. That’s an act of our will.
    • Worthy reception of the Holy Eucharist. The grace of every Sacrament is freely available, but we have to be ready to receive it. Are we in a state of grace? Have we been to confession and gotten ourselves as ready as possible to receive the grace Christ offers? Then, when Communion begins, focus as exclusively as possible on receiving Christ. This is the moment when he comes directly into us, the moment he wills that we become what we receive. Are we willing to become like Christ?
    • Drawing closer to God in daily life. When we truly love someone, we don’t limit ourselves to spending an hour per week with them. Why should it be that way with God? Rather, we should be mindful of His presence with us every moment of every day, and ready to show the world that our will and God’s will are the same thing.

    These sound great, and are easy to say, but we all know how hard it is to go from words to the deeds that back them up. It’s the battle of wills inside us; the will to do what we want on one side, and the will to do what we ought on the other. We can’t win it alone, but we don’t have to; the grace of God is always available. All we have to do is ask for it, and resolve to use it. The more we do that, the more we show our Heavenly Father that we’re serious about winning the battle, about making real in our lives the meaning of His Son’s words in his prayer and, above all, in Gethsemane: Thy will be done.

    —

  • The Language of Love

    The Language of Love

    Pentecost Sunday

    Acts 2:1-11; Galatians 5:16-25; John 20:19-23

    From the time they were little, all of our kids loved to read; all, that is, except one. No matter what I did, I could not get this kid interested in books. When he was about 5, I got an idea: Poetry. I sat him on my lap, took out a poetry book the other kids loved at his age, found one of our favorites, and began to read. About halfway through it, he turned, looked up, and kept his eyes fixed on me until the poem was over. As he got down, I asked him, “So, what did you think?” He glanced at me and said, “You’ve got hair growing in your nose.”

    He isn’t the first person to focus on the medium rather than the message. It’s easy to do, especially when we find the medium so intriguing. The Holy Spirit is a good example. Despite (or maybe because of) a wealth of biblical imagery – a dove, fire, wind, breath, a mysterious Advocate or Counselor – He’s hard to picture. So, let’s focus on what these images are trying to tell us about the Holy Spirit.

    First, breath. Throughout Scripture, breath and spirit are the same word in the original language. For example, in Genesis we read that God blew into the first man the breath (or “spirit”) of life (2:7). The risen Christ did something very similar; after showing the Apostles his hands and side – the price of our salvation – he breathed the Holy Spirit on them and empowered them to retain or forgive sins. Through their ministry, the Holy Spirit breathes new life into every soul dead in sin, granting us pardon and peace.

    Peace brings us to the dove, its ancient symbol. When Jesus bid peace to the Apostles, the greeting he used, shalom, meant a lot more than the absence of conflict; it implied wholeness, tranquility, harmony with other people, and with God. In the same way, the peace given by the Holy Spirit is a lot more than the passing feeling we get after confession; rather, it is an enduring, stable state of tranquility, listed by St. Paul as one of the nine “fruits” of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23).

    They’re called fruits for two reasons. First, they’re tangible evidence that the Holy Spirit is at work within us. For example, if I have Spirit’s gift of peace, I and those around me should be able to see that I am more at peace, in all ways, than I was before. Second, like fruit growing in nature, gifts like peace don’t develop overnight; they take real effort, and a long time to cultivate and ripen. It’s good to ask the Holy Spirit in His role as Counselor to help us to take a good look at ourselves to see which fruits of the Spirit seem to be growing, and which require more work.

    Finally, as the first reading reminded us, the Holy Spirit is also associated with wind and tongues of fire. When He fell on the Apostles, they spoke (or were heard) in the languages of their hearers. This type of gift is known as a charism, or grace given to us by the Holy Spirit for the benefit of others. There are many charisms, some intended for instruction, others for administration, still others for miracles, service, or prayer. Regardless, charisms are another way the Spirit works through us to build up the Body of Christ, the Church.

    Through us, that’s the key. The Holy Spirit only works through us if we let Him, so now is a good time to think about what charisms He’s given you and challenge yourself to use them. Maybe you’re good with people; if so, you’d be a natural in many places in the Church; the Food Pantry, working with the elderly or with kids. Maybe you’re good at explaining things; help as a teacher or catechist. Maybe you’re very organized or a good planner; the Church is always looking for you. Maybe you’re none of those things, but you are a good listener, or love to pray, or a great caregiver, or any of a thousand other things. The point is, be still, pray, and let the Holy Spirit remind you of the things you’re good at; then, cooperate with those graces to bring yourself and those around you closer to God and to each other.

    Although the Church sets aside this one day to celebrate Pentecost, every day is its own Pentecost. The Holy Spirit speaks all the time, to everyone. We may not feel the breath of Christ, but through the power of the Spirit we have the forgiveness of sins; we may not see doves, but we’ve been given peace and the other fruits of the Spirit; we may not see tongues of fire, or hear noises like driving winds, but we have the gospel proclaimed in language we can understand. The question is, are we listening? As St. John of the Cross once said, “What we need most in order to make progress is to be silent before this great God…, for the language he best hears is silent love.” And that is what the Holy Spirit speaks: the language of love.

    —

  • Let It Out

    Let It Out

    Saturday of the 7th Week of Easter

    Acts 28:16-20; 30-31; John 21:20-25

    In 1955, Bishop Kung, the Bishop of Shanghai, was arrested while publicly praying the rosary. Months later, he was taken to a stadium in Shanghai, where thousands were forcibly gathered to hear him confess his crimes. In prison garb, his hands tied behind his back, and pushed to the microphone, the bishop said, ‘Long live Christ the King. Long live the Pope.’ The crowd roared back, ‘Long live Christ the King! Long live Bishop Kung!’ Quickly taken away, the bishop was sentenced to life imprisonment in 1960, and spent 30 more years in mostly solitary confinement.1 At the age of 87, he was released, came to the United States, and lived here until he died at age 98. When Pope John Paul II, who secretly made Kung a cardinal years before, made it official, he said, “I felt that the whole Church could not but honor a man who has given witness by word and deed, through long suffering and trials, to what constitutes the essence of life in the Church: participation in the divine life through the apostolic faith and evangelical love.”

    As with St. Paul at the end of Acts, the story of Cardinal Kung shows that, no matter the time, place, or what is done to the Church or her ministers, the word of God cannot be chained. It is the truth, and, as St. Augustine once said, the truth is like a lion; let it out, and it will defend itself.

    But that can be precisely the problem – letting it out. Like St. Peter in the gospel, we get distracted. Sometimes, it comes in the form of doubts or anxieties; we fear failure, doubt our ability, or worry what others will think. Other times, we get caught up in the comforts of life and put more of our time and energy into those. Either way, the result is the same: we take our eyes off of Christ.

    Let us rather resolve to continue doing what St. Paul, St. Peter, and Cardinal Kung ultimately did with their lives: Witness Christ by word and deed. We may fail, make mistakes, or lose some friends. We might even lose out on some of the comforts the world has to offer. But, to re-iterate what Holy Father St. John Paul II said, this is the essence of life in the Church, and despite whatever we risk losing now, the reward in Heaven is infinitely greater.

    1http://www.cardinalkungfoundation.org/ck/CKlife.php

    —

  • Our Mutual Friend

    Our Mutual Friend

    Monday of the 6th Week of Easter

    Acts 16:11-15; John 15:26-16:4a

    In Seneca Falls, New York, in 1851, a young woman named Elizabeth went out for a walk, possibly to blow off some steam. She had just been denied a seat at an anti-slavery convention because she was a woman. During her walk, she came upon a friend out walking with her friend Susan, who was in town to attend a temperance meeting. The two strangers, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, struck up a life-long friendship which led to great civil rights advances, such as the right of women to vote and to own property. And all because of a chance encounter on a street corner!

    In the first reading, we hear of another encounter, this one by a river near Philippi. Paul and his companions, looking for a place to pray, came upon Lydia and her friends who had gathered there. We don’t know much about her, but it’s not hard to see that Lydia was devout, spiritually hungry, and open to the gospel; soon, she and her household became Paul’s first converts in Europe. Not only that, she opened her home to the grateful missionaries. We can’t know, but it may be that when Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians years later, he fondly remembered that chance encounter with Lydia.

    I shouldn’t say “chance.” Scripture is clear that God was behind it all along. The whole reason Paul was there was because the Spirit twice prevented him from going anywhere else, then explicitly told him to go to Macedonia (Acts 16:1-10). Of course, the Holy Spirit was still there, leading the mission, and in that meeting by the river, Paul did exactly what Jesus said to do in the gospel: he testified to him (John 15:26).

    Every Mass we attend is a meeting by the river; not the one near Philippi, but the Living Water of Christ. Here, he testifies to us in Word and Body; here, the Holy Spirit leads us into all truth. The question is, do we remain as devout, hungry, and open to the gospel as Lydia was? It’s hard enough to keep our hearts open to its challenges, but what about our church home? So often we have strangers among us, especially on Sunday. These are no chance encounters. How are we keeping our hearts and parish home open to them?

    Equally important, God sends us out from this home and into the mission fields of our own homes, neighborhoods, and communities. That makes every meeting with every person outside these walls no chance encounter, either. How are we testifying to Christ? Can those who meet us or come by our homes tell that we are his followers – not by the number of religious things we own or talk about, but by the way they are treated?

    Let us remember today and every day that in reality there are no strangers, only friends we have yet to meet through our mutual friend, the Holy Spirit.

  • WWJD?

    WWJD?

    Thursday of the 5th Week of Easter

    Acts 15:7-21; John 15:9-11

    You may remember that, years ago, there was a lot of merchandise around with WWJD? imprinted on it. Christian commentators look back on that as a fad that went the way of the dinosaur, but, in my opinion, it’s always good to contemplate what Jesus would do about so many of the things we debate about in our time.

    I thought of that while reading today’s passage from the Acts of the Apostles. The influx of gentiles into Christianity had stirred up a good deal of debate. It’s not hard to see why; up to that point, the faith had been dominated by Jews. Now, as they were quickly becoming the minority, at least some Christian Jews began pushing for gentile converts to follow Mosaic Law. Luke keeps it simple; he doesn’t give us the debate, just the aftermath. What strikes me is that, although Peter, Paul, Barnabas, and James all say what they think should be done, none of them talks about what Jesus would say or do.

    Luke might have left out the details of the debate because the side that lost argued that they knew what Jesus would do: agree with them. It makes some sense; after all, Jesus himself followed the Law. In fact, it was he who said, Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill (Matthew 5:18).

    Nevertheless, the side represented by Peter and James carried the day because they understood that the real issue was not about what Jesus would do, but about what he had already done. First, he set the example. He taught, healed, and made disciples among both Jews and gentiles. Then, he sent the Apostles from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8). Clearly, Jesus intended that they see to it that both Jews and gentiles were welcome in his Church.

    The Apostles could only do that if they used what our Lord gave them, and in today’s readings, we see two things. First is the commandment to remain in his love, which means to strive for that same “oneness” that Jesus and his Father enjoy. The Apostles did understand this. The book of Acts, the letters of Paul, and those of John spend a lot of time talking about unity and the importance of preserving it. That principle of oneness was uppermost in their minds during the debate, and we see it in their decision.

    The second thing Jesus gave them was the greatest gift of all: the Holy Spirit. The book of Acts really is the book of the Holy Spirit; no matter where the Apostles go or what they do, the Spirit is constantly guiding them, helping them, and giving them courage, insight, and inspiration. Without Him, they can do nothing; with Him, they can do anything.

    As always, what applied to the Apostles applies equally to us. If history shows us anything, it’s that there will always be problems and debates within the Church. We have them among ourselves in every parish! But, we also have the commandment to remain in his love – to preserve the unity Jesus prayed for (John 17:21-23). Doing that means, for example, having the humility to listen to those who disagree with us, not to show them where they’re wrong, but to show ourselves where they might be right. And, we also have the Holy Spirit, who teaches us that true love is not about what’s best for me, but what’s best for us. Even if our solutions aren’t pleasing to everyone (or anyone), if they are done in and with the Holy Spirit, they will please our heavenly Father.

    We all know, even without a bracelet, that is definitely what Jesus would do.

    —

  • Parts of the Bigger Picture

    Parts of the Bigger Picture

    Sunday of the 5th Sunday of Easter

    Acts 9:26-31; 1 John 3:18-24; John 15:1-8

    There is an art technique called pointillism, which works pretty much as the name implies: Tiny dots of color are applied to a canvas, one by one. Up close, all you see are the dots. However, as you move away, the dots blend together to form the image the artist had in mind.

    It might seem like God uses that same technique to communicate with us. Think of the bible: Every part of every story is like a dot on the canvas; if we focus on the dots, we can’t see the big picture. Only when we step back and allow them to blend does the story of Christ begin to emerge. It’s like that for the daily readings, too. For example, today we see Barnabas managing the entry of Paul into the Church, John writing about love, and Jesus speaking of a vine and branches. While there’s great depth and beauty to each reading when considered by itself, if we step back and look at the big picture, does an overall theme emerge?

    Yes, and I think a visual aid might help.

    Above is a photo of the stained glass window near the sacristy. The next image is another representation of it. In either, you might be able to see some fairly abstract images; a person embracing God in the center, the cross of Christ next to that, and, on both sides, people interacting in various ways. All of that speaks to the theme of today’s readings – relationships – both God’s relationship with us, and our relationships with each other.

    But to explore that theme in greater detail, we have to look at the picture up close. When you do, you will see that it’s not a single image at all, but hundreds of tiny images of our parishioners taken years ago, each image tinted to match the colors of the original window:

    Thus, art helps us see the spiritual reality that the Church is not an abstraction, but is made up of real people in relationship with God and each other.

    With that image as context, three aspects of relationships in the Church emerge in the readings:

    1. Togetherness. Christianity isn’t something we do alone. We’re “in it” together. In fact, we need each other. As we heard in the first reading, even St. Paul couldn’t go it alone. There was no way he was going to just walk into Jerusalem and be welcomed by people he had tried to imprison. Not only that, he apparently irritated some people so much they wanted to kill him! Clearly, Paul had relationship problems and needed help; someone like Barnabas, whose “people skills” found a way to bring Paul in, yet keep everyone united. And look at the result! Where would the Church be without St. Paul, or St. Paul without St. Barnabas? The question for us is, for whom are we Barnabas? Who among us needs encouragement or support, and how can we provide it?
    2. Belonging. These images represent people who want to belong to God and to each other. They know, as John implied in the second reading, that the only true basis for our relationships is love that is put into action, not love that is merely talked about. Again, the question for us is, how am I putting my love for God and other people into action, or do I tend to talk about it more than actually do it?
    3. Openness. These images also represent people who, like every member of the Church, have endured their share of suffering and sorrow, yet have borne fruit. We can only do that if, as Christ says in the gospel, we remain in him; in other words, if we keep our will united to his, despite whatever setbacks we experience. That may well be the hardest challenge of all – to look inside ourselves and ask if we remain open to the will of God, even when the answer to our prayers isn’t what we wanted.

    In a recent homily, I said that Catholicism is not what we do, it’s who we are. I think this picture, in light of today’s readings, says something very similar: Church is not a place we go, it too is who we are. With that in mind, let’s allow this image of the Church to remind us that, as members of Christ’s Body, we are bound together by his love, no matter where we go; that, no matter how badly we have fallen or been rejected by the world, we always have a place to go and a Father who loves and wants us; and that, no matter how much we suffer or struggle in this life, there is infinitely greater joy in the eternal life that awaits.

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