August 20, 2006
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Twentieth Sunday, Year B, August 20th, 2006
Today I’m going to talk about bread and wine (on display in front of the altar), the importance of Holy Communion, and why it is better than broccoli and blueberries! As you recall last week I mentioned three essential and inseparable aspects of the Eucharist – what were they? . . . Sacrifice (which we covered last week), Holy Communion (my topic today) and the Real Presence (for next week).
I think it’s obvious to everyone how the Eucharist, Holy Communion is a meal. When we gather for worship, we not only “sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs” (Second Reading Ephesians 5:15-20), but we also eat and drink something. In the First Reading, Wisdom personified invites us: “Come, eat of my bread and drink the wine I have mixed.” And in the Gospel, the Wisdom of God made flesh, Jesus Christ, says, “my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.” The Eucharist, Holy Communion, is a meal.
According to Pope Benedict, the new liturgy of the Mass implemented with Vatican II, without taking away from the importance of sacrifice, also highlights the importance of the Eucharist as Holy Communion, as a meal. In the 1960′s these words were added to the Mass: “Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this bread to offer, which earth has given and human hands have made, it will become for us the bread of life” or “we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of human hands, it will become for us our spiritual drink.”
With these words, writes our Pope, ““a new treasure has entered the liturgy” because these words contain, “the whole secret life of Nazareth” (God is Near Us: The Eucharist the Heart of Life 68-9). What does he mean? These words are based on the table prayers of the Jewish people, words that Joseph, Mary and Jesus would have used for their meals in Nazareth. With these words, the everyday life of the Son of God in Nazareth enters the Mass; these words unite us with the earthly life of Jesus.
There is a valuable lesson we can all draw from the consideration of the Eucharist, Holy Communion as a meal. Pope Benedict remarks, “All our meals are alive with the goodness of God the Creator, and all thereby point toward this greatest feast of all (the Eucharist) . . . we should resolve to make our meals once more holy times, to open and to close them with prayer” (p. 52). I think it’s a very good suggestion. We know that the Eucharist is a holy meal because it is the Body and Blood of Christ. But all our meals can be holy times.
How many families eat dinner together almost every night? . . .begin and close with prayer? . . . Living alone I can get into some bad habits of eating at odd hours, rushing, watching TV! . . . So we can all make an effort to make meals holy times. And let us pray that as we become more aware of Christ’s Real Presence in the Eucharist, we will become more aware of God’s presence in our meals and daily lives.
Holy Communion has many effects or fruits. As written in the beautiful new shortened Catechism with pictures and easy-to-read question and answer format, “Holy Communion increases our union with Christ and with His Church. It preserves and renews the life of grace received at Baptism and Confirmation and makes us grow in love for our neighbour. It strengthens us in charity, wipes away venial sins and preserves us from mortal sin in the future.” (#292). Wow! All that from Holy Communion! Thank you, Lord!
I will briefly focus on one other effect of Holy Communion, as spoken by Jesus in today’s Gospel, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life” (Jn 6:51-58). As St. Ignatius of Antioch put it (quoted in the Cathechism), the Eucharist is “the medicine of immortality, the antidote for death”! Every year, we hear of some food that is supposed to prevent cancer or heart disease, that will make us healthy and live longer – one year broccoli is our saviour, the next it’s blueberries. But let’s face it – no diet on earth, unless it contains a weekly dose of Holy Communion, is going to be the “medicine for immortality or the antidote for death.” Blueberries may be good for you, but they’re not going to raise you up on the last day! Rather, “those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life.”
I will leave you with one other reflection from Pope Benedict as we ourselves prepare to receive Holy Communion. He writes, “Sacramental Communion must . . . always be also spiritual Communion. That is why the Liturgy changes over, before Communion, from the liturgical ‘we’ to ‘I’” (81). What does he mean? Sacramental Communion means we actually eat the consecrated Host; spiritual Communion means that we also consciously receive Jesus Christ with love and gratitude. And did you ever notice that during Mass we always say “we”? For example, “We lift up our hearts to the Lord. We give Him thanks and praise.” But just before receiving Communion, the liturgy becomes much more personal, and each one of us says, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” May our Sacramental Communion today become a much more personal, spiritual Communion, and may we better appreciate the Lord’s gift of himself to us in this medicine of immortality and antidote for death.
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August 13, 2006
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Nineteenth Sunday, Year B, August 13th, 2006
The Sacrifice of the Mass
Do you come to Mass to get something or to give something? . . .
It is true, we come to Mass in part to “get” something – or rather receive someone very important – Jesus Christ, “the bread of life” who give his flesh for the life of the world (John 6:41-51). But do we come to Mass only to get something? What do we give at Mass? . . . Certainly, we give a donation in the collection, for which I thank you, because our parish could not exist without your personal donations. Is there anything else we give? . . . an hour of our time? . . .
Consider the example of Christ as portrayed by St. Paul in the second reading. “Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Ephesians 4:30 – 5:2). Christ offered himself in sacrifice to God. That’s my theme today, the role of sacrifice in Mass.
For the next three weeks, we will be hearing from Chapter 6 of John’s Gospel which includes Jesus’ teaching on the Eucharist. Therefore
Deacon Tom and I will be covering the three essential and inseparable aspects of the Eucharist in the next few weeks – the Eucharist as sacrifice, Real Presence, and communion.
Back to the sacrifice of Jesus. During His earthly life, on the Cross, and in the Eucharist (which is “the sacrifice of the Cross perpetuated down the ages” Encyclical “Ecclesia de Eucharistia” by John Paul II, April 17, 2003, #11), Christ loves us and gives himself for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. In the Eucharist and in our daily lives, do we give ourselves in sacrifice to God? . . .
(I thank you for your bodily presence here in the Church; by your presence here today, you are making some effort to give yourselves in sacrifice to God).
I will ask you another question. If the sacrifice pleasing to God is a “humble and contrite heart” (Psalm 51) and a holy life, then why do we need this medieval ritual of the Mass? . . . “We can be good people without going to Church!”
But we cannot receive the Body and Blood of Christ in our homes on Sunday morning while we drink our coffee and read the paper! And it is necessary, according to Jesus, to eat His flesh and drink His blood in order to have eternal life (Jn 6:53-54). But I will leave aside for the moment Church teaching on the Real Presence and Holy Communion to focus today on the Sacrifice of the Mass: why do we have to come here to offer an acceptable sacrifice to God?
The simple answer is – it is God’s will. The liturgy, the public worship of God, in which God communicates with us not as isolated individuals but as a people, is the most perfect form of prayer (see The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, #7 and #10). Our prayers and sacrifices are most pleasing to God when united to Christ in the liturgy of the Mass.
The Mass is also an action, a movement – the privileged time and place in which Christ unites Himself to us and lifts us up to the Father – with all our needs and petitions, with all our thanks and praise and adoration, with all our prayers, works, joys and sufferings.
Let me ask you another question. Is there any difference between Mass and a Communion service? . . . This story comes from Newfoundland, where they are suffering from an even more severe shortage of priests than we are, so that many communities might have Mass only one Sunday a month, and Communion services on the other Sundays. After a nun celebrated a Communion service, one parishioner confided, “Sister, we like your Mass better than Father’s Mass.” For this parishioner, evidently there was no difference between Sister’s Communion Service and Father’s Mass. Is there any difference for you? . . . As long you as you receive the Body of Christ, does anything else matter to you? . . .
There is a huge difference. A Communion Service is not a sacrifice. There is no action or movement toward God. And apart from Jesus Christ and His action and sacrifice in the Mass, our lives cannot be a fragrant offering or pleasing sacrifice to God. Apart from Jesus Christ, all our “good deeds” are like these grains of salt that have lost their saltiness and are good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.
But in union with Jesus Christ and His action and sacrifice in the Mass, our little sacrifices are like these grains of incense that are transformed here and now in the Mass into a fragrant offering, a pleasing sacrifice.
Many older Catholics were taught as children to say a Morning Offering, a practice I highly recommend to help us unite our daily lives to the offering of Christ in the Eucharist. Many of them begin with, “Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys and sufferings of this day, in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world . . .”
Think of all the little grains of incense you can save up during the week in order to prepare a beautiful sacrifice to God in the Sunday Eucharist.
– When you are tired from work or sickness or caring for the children, you decide to be cheerful to those around you (one grain of incense).
– When your friends are talking about others behind their backs and you are tempted to give in to gossip, you bite your tongue (another grain of incense).
–When you “forgive one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you” (Second Reading) (another grain of incense).
– And on (Saturday evening/ Sunday morning) when you decide to leave home five minutes earlier so that you can arrive at Mass on time, and you tell God, “Lord, we am making a special sacrifice, and from this day forward, we will arrive at Church on time or even a bit early! Since you know this is a sacrifice for our family, please hear my prayers.” And God will reward you. (another big grain of incense!)
United to Jesus, our entire lives can be a fragrant offering to God, so that at Mass we’re not only here to “get” something, but to give something – our very selves to God.
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August 6, 2006
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
The Transfiguration, Year B, August 6, 2006
When Jesus was transfigured, St. Mark reports, “his clothes became dazzling white” (Mk 9:2-10). The Father revealed to the disciples the glory of the hidden divinity of His Beloved Son. We are all destined to share in this glory and be transfigured in the Resurrection. If you were to see the person sitting next to you as he or she will appear in heaven, you would be so dazzled by the blinding light and glory streaming from his or her body, that you would be tempted to fall down in worship!
But to experience that light of transfiguration, we must be poor in spirit, detached from possessions, and abandon ourselves to God – that’s the theme of my homily today.
Even in this life, we begin to be transfigured, and in the eyes of some people, we see a reflection of our future glory. In El Salvador, our mission team saw the light of God’s glory in the poor people we met. Even among those who were disfigured because of poverty, malnutrition, or old age, we saw in their eyes the light of transfiguration, the beauty of God reflected in their humanity.
I don’t have pictures to show you yet, but we will have a parish presentation when all our students are back at the end of the summer. I could show you pictures of Ana Nohemy, aged 3 years and four months, weighing only 20 lbs, 6 ounces. She arrived at the hospital in March, severely malnourished, but now she is doing much better, and there was such light, joy and happiness in her eyes when we met her in July.
But it’s not just the children who are beautiful, but the seniors as well. We also met about 90 seniors at the soup kitchen who have nothing – no money, no food, some have no homes, and no family or government to take care of them in their old age. And many are disfigured by the ravages of time. But spiritually, they are being transfigured, and they’re beautiful, because the light of God shines in their eyes. I sat beside one elderly lady, whose eyes and face were aglow with happiness, who could not even speak.
The poor we met in El Salvador have a light and beauty shining in their eyes, and a happiness radiating from their faces that . . . you almost never see in Canada. In comparison, we Canadians are like spoiled teenagers who are bored with life. Or like someone who is plunked in a chair, eyes glazed over from too much eating and drinking. We are missing out on something here in Canada. Why are we so spiritually disfigured? Why is there so little joy in our land?
For one thing, we can never be transfigured, find true joy, or attain the Resurrection of the dead, without poverty of spirit, detachment from possessions, and total self-abandonment to God . . . in imitation of Jesus Christ. Jesus was very poor. He owned nothing except the clothes on his back. The Gospel reports that his clothes became dazzling white, but it was his body that was transfigured and shone with glory. For us, it is not our clothes, houses, cars and toys that are going to be transfigured and raised from the dead, but our poor, frail, even disfigured bodies – stripped of everything – that will one day be clothed in glory and shine like the sun in the kingdom of our Father.
Consider also the poverty of spirit of the disciples of Jesus who followed him up the mountain. They traveled very light – no money, no food, no knapsacks, no change of clothes – they had nothing so they could run up the mountain. But Canadians like me have these big, heavy suitcases on wheels. Imagine trying to drag those up the mountain. We would be so far behind we would miss out on the miracle of the Transfiguration!
When will we ever begin to understand that our attachment to our excessive possessions are like cement shoes or a suitcase full of stones that only weigh down our souls? Remember that “we brought nothing into the world, just as we shall not be able to take anything out of it. If we have food and clothing, we shall be content with that,” as St. Paul writes (1 Timothy 6:7-8). Who we are – beloved sons and daughters of God – is more important than what we have. And by having less, we can actually be more.
In this Eucharist, we personally meet Jesus who, though he was rich, became poor for our sake when he stripped himself of glory and was born into our world. In the Eucharist, He continues to be poor for our sake, hiding himself under the appearance of bread and wine. May we receive His Body and Blood today with a spirit of poverty, detachment from possessions, and total self-abandonment to God, so that we might rediscover in our own souls that light of glory that shone in the Transfiguration, that shines in the faces of the poor, the light of beauty that each one of us possesses as beloved sons and daughters of God.
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Homilies