April 29, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Fourth Sunday of Easter (Vocations Sunday), Year C, April 29th, 2007
Last Monday I was having dinner at Dominican College with a young friend of mine, a 23 year old graduate of Ottawa U who is from a former parish of mine and is now a postulant with the Dominican Order. We were sort of hoping that he would join the diocesan priesthood of Ottawa, but God’s will be done. He is a beautiful example of a good Catholic family producing a vocation to religious life. Whereas my vocation is more of a particular case of God in his infinite mercy, shall we say, planting a flower on an ash-heap among the ruins of the sexual revolution and the breakdown of the family in our times.
But normally speaking, God wants to produce vocations from good Catholic families (and at the beginning of Catholic Education week, we remember that Catholic education starts in the home!). Instead of focussing on priesthood on this Vocations Sunday, I want to talk about conversion in families – our natural families and our parish family – that will produce vocations to priesthood, religious life and life-long marriage.
It is good to remember that the Church and each parish is meant to be a family, and God himself is a family. Did you notice John’s vision of heaven in the Second Reading? He saw a great multitude from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages – the family of the Church in heaven. By Baptism, we are truly sons and daughters of God, and brothers and sisters to one another. And the love we share with our natural family and the family of the Church is meant to bring us to the perfect love of the “Family” of the Holy Trinity in heaven – the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Every family needs a father. Most young men here are called to be fathers of some sort – of a natural family or as a priest in the family of the Church in which you have hundreds of children and brothers and sisters. Neither vocation is easy. Like Jesus the Good Shepherd who laid down his life for his sheep, (Jn ) you will have to learn to lay down your life for your family – either your wife and children or the family of the Church.
And who is going to teach us how to be good fathers? Our own fathers we hope! But what if we have had a bad relationship with our own fathers? . . . Then we need conversion! I know I have so much to learn about what it means to be a good father. God the Father is teaching me, slowly, through his Son Jesus Christ (who is one with the Father as we hear in today’s Gospel), through St. Joseph, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and through you – the families of this parish.
We all need conversion in our families and the Church if we are ever to produce vocations. Conversion does not just mean, “OK, I’ll try to stop swearing and start going to Church.” That would be nice for starters, but conversion means becoming a new person, putting off the old self and putting on the new self created in the image of God (Col ). Like St. Paul who went from being a persecutor of the Church to being a light for all nations, to bring God’s salvation to the ends of the Earth, as we heard in the First Reading (Acts ). He was willing to lie down his life for Christ and the Gospel. That’s conversion!
Conversion also means the healing of our hearts of all the wounds we have received from our sins and the sins of others. Conversion is living the Gospel without compromise and destroying all the idols in our lives, and learning to put God first (as many of you have heard before – God first, spouse second, children third and work fourth – that’s the order intended by God for our happiness). Conversion is the happiness of loving and being loved – freely, without fear. Without conversions in our families (natural families and our parish family) we will not see many vocations of any kind – to priesthood, religious life, or life-long marriage.
I would like to say a few words about the consecration and entrustment of our parish to the Immaculate Heart of Mary next Saturday at 9:00 a.m. (If you did not have a chance to read about it in last week’s bulletin insert, there are copies available in the foyer). The main purpose of this consecration is that Mary will help each one of us put God first, then everything else will fall into place – better marriages, more peace in the home, happier children, and so on.
To all those who love God and are praying in private for conversions in your families and among your friends, I invite you, I humbly beseech you, to please come to Mass on the First Saturday of each month – especially the Consecration Mass next Saturday, but every first Saturday and feast day of Mary.
On our own, our individual prayers and sacrifices are weak and don’t amount to much. They are like an individual string that is easily broken and tossed aside. But if we unite our prayers and sacrifices to those of Mary and to the sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross and in the Eucharist, they are much stronger and effective. So let us come together and pray together, so that God will grant us may conversions in our families and our parish family.
And what is the purpose of conversion? To have more people in Church on Sunday? Believe me, that’s a side effect of the essence of conversion – to know and love God and be happy in this life, and to attain the Resurrection of the dead, the reunion of every family in the family of God in the eternal life of heaven, the ultimate vocation of every human being.
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April 22, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Third Sunday of Easter (Confirmation and First Communion), 22 April 2007
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, there was a country with a fanatical, fundamentalist, and fascist government. And what does that mean, children? It was a religious government that made it a law that everyone had to go to Church every Sunday. It was a law like paying your taxes. If you never ever pay your taxes, sooner or later the police will show up at your door, and in this country, it was the same with those who never went to Church.
In this country, children also received Confirmation and First Communion. One of the little girls, we’ll call her Joanna, was different from the other boys and girls because she liked to pray. When she would kneel down after receiving Holy Communion, she felt warm inside, a feeling of being loved by someone. She wondered if she were the only one who felt that way.
One day she asked her parents, “Mommy and Daddy . . . are there people who . . . love God?” Her parents smiled and had her sit down and said, “Ah, honey, it’s nice of you to ask something like that, but you must understand that in our country it’s a law that we have to go to Church, just like it’s a law that you have to go to school. You don’t like math, do you? But you still have to go to school and study it. It’s the same with God and Church. You understand, don’t you?”
Joanna did not really understand, but to make her parents happy she smiled and said yes and then went out to play with her friend Simon. Joanna often thought that adults sometimes said things that didn’t make sense. Was there no one who loved God?
Joanna had received the Holy Spirit in Baptism and Confirmation, the same spirit of courage that the apostles had in the first reading when they were not afraid to tell others about Jesus. So inspired by the Holy Spirit, she decided to talk to her best friend Simon, one day at school while they were outside eating lunch together: “Simon, do you love God?” Simon was surprised, then nervous. He looked around to make sure no teachers or students were watching, then whispered, “Yes . . . do you?” “Yes, me too!”
Joanna was so happy to have a friend with whom she could share her secret! Each Sunday she asked her parents if they could sit with Simon’s family. She would kneel beside Simon after Holy Communion. She loved God all the more, knowing that her friend beside her also loved God. They started looking for others who shared their secret, asking them one at a time, “Do you love God?”
In today’s Gospel, Jesus asks Peter three times, “Do you love me?” “Do you love Jesus?” “Do you love God?” Children, when you think about, that’s the really the only question in life that matters.
Jesus loves you very much. In the Eucharist, in Holy Communion, as the Pope writes, Jesus does not give you a thing, but himself (Sacramentum Caritatis #7). God can do anything. If he created the universe out of nothing, then he can come into our bodies and souls through a piece of bread that is truly his Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity.
You can also think of it this way: in the Eucharist, in Holy Communion, Jesus gives you his Heart. You can see the Heart of Jesus on this painting of the reverse side of the Miraculous Medal: the Immaculate Heart of Mary pierced with a sword, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus crowned with thorns, a Heart that was also cut open on the Cross with a spear.
Children, put your hand on your heart for a moment. Can you feel you heart beating? Can you feel the bones, the ribs? They protect your heart from someone who might punch you or injure your heart in some way.
Some people today are so afraid of being hurt, that they have forgotten how to love and be loved, and their hearts have turned into this (a walnut): a heart with the hard shell of pride, anger, and a refusal to forgive and be forgiven;
a heart that is all shriveled up inside from years of loving only itself and material things rather than God and other people.
Don’t let that ever happen to your hearts. Keep them pure, open, and forgiving — like the heart of Jesus that is filled with love for us, but not at all protected from pain, almost as if he had no rib cage, so super-sensitive was his Heart to even the slightest rejection.
The second reading refers to Jesus as an innocent lamb that was killed (Rev 5:11). How can a lamb defend itself? It has no hard shell like a turtle, no poisonous bite like some snakes. Neither could Jesus defend himself. How easily his Heart was pierced by the betrayal of Judas, the denial of Peter, when Peter said three times, “I don’t know Jesus!” And yet, how quick was Jesus to forgive and remind Peter how much he loved him!
Still today there are Christians who act like they don’t know Jesus, who say things like “Jesus Christ” – not to pray to Jesus, but to swear. Children, tell those people about Jesus! Now that you are confirmed today you are given the courage of the apostles to stand up for the name of Jesus and for the truth.
I’ll end with this story: when I was in Rome last month, while I was having lunch with the Pope, (just joking!) . . . Seriously, I learned about a six and a half year old saint named Antonietta Meo. She is not technically a saint yet, but a “servant of God,” but I think one day she will be named a saint. She died in 1937, and went to heaven less than a year after receiving her first Holy Communion.
This is what she wrote in one of her letters: “Dear Jesus in the Eucharist, I am so happy that you have come into my heart. Never leave my heart! Stay with me forever! Gesu, io ti amo tanto . . . Jesus, I love you so much. I throw myself into your arms to do with me as you please.”
Children, still today there are many Christians who do not love Jesus. Let’s do our best to make up for all those hearts with hard shells, hearts that are shriveled up inside, by telling Jesus, after we receive him in Holy Communion, how much we love him.
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April 15, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Homily for the Second Sunday Of Easter
April 15, 2007
Today we celebrate the Feast of Divine Mercy. Why do we need a feast for Divine Mercy? Isn’t God’s mercy evident enough without having a special day for it? Well, in April of 2000, the Jubilee year, Pope John Paul II declared this feast in order for us to think more deeply about the mercy of God.
Most of us probably don’t have much more than a vague understanding of His mercy. And, to a certain extent, that is to be expected – we cannot completely grasp the scope of any aspect of God while we still walk this earth. But we can open our hearts to what has been revealed to us, in ways that are meant for our human comprehension.
God’s mercy takes so many forms in our lives, as revealed by Him and passed down to us through His church, that we would have difficulty listing them all. Among them, there is the totally unmerited gift of Faith which He has given us, and which we should treasure and nurture. There is the church itself, preserving the truth and helping us along our journey to the Lord. His many comforts and blessings in our daily lives. And there are the sacraments, giving us His grace. Of course, there is one sacrament in particular that is the manifestation of Divine Mercy – the sacrament of Reconciliation.
Jesus appeared to St. Faustina Kowalska, a polish nun, in the 1930’s. It is from these visits that devotion to Divine Mercy, and this feast day, originated. Jesus specifically said to St. Faustina: “I desire that the Feast of Mercy be a refuge and shelter for all souls, and especially poor sinners. On that day the very depths of My tender mercy are open. The soul that will go to Confession and receive Holy Communion shall obtain complete forgiveness of sins and punishment.” “Souls perish in spite of My bitter Passion. I am giving them the last hope of salvation; that is, the Feast of My Mercy.”
Souls perish in spite of my bitter passion, Jesus said. God’s mercy is infinite, but we have our part to play. We cannot just go through life, presuming that when we die, if we were pretty good, we’ll get into heaven. God asks more of us than that. We are told to love the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind, and to love our neighbours as ourselves. We aren’t always able to live up to this as fully as we should. As Christians and as Catholics, we have more responsibility for our actions because we have been taught the truth. Part of that responsibility, when we do fall short, is to repent, and ask for God’s forgiveness. So, in His infinite Mercy, one of the first things Jesus did after His Resurrection, in His first encounter with the apostles, was to give them the power to forgive sins. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” Can you imagine how important this was to Him? He wanted us to be able to experience that cleansing of our souls in a very real, substantial way.
Listen to what Jesus said to St. Faustina:
“When you approach the confessional, know this, that I Myself am waiting there for you. I am only hidden by the priest, but I Myself act in your soul. Here the misery of the soul meets the God of mercy. Make your confession before Me. The person of the priest is, for Me, only a screen. Never analyze what sort of a priest it is that I am making use of; open your soul in confession as you would to Me, and I will fill it with My light. Every time you go to confession, immerse yourself entirely in My mercy with great trust, so that I may pour the bounty of My grace upon your soul. Tell souls that from this fount of mercy souls draw graces solely with the vessel of trust. If their trust is great, there is no limit to my generosity. Tell sinners that I am always waiting for them, that I listen intently to the beating of their heart…when will it beat for me?”
Many of us are, or have been, reluctant to partake of this sacrament. This may be from confusion, or pride. Many of us have allowed our hearts to be hardened over the years, or have been deceived into thinking that the Sacrament of Reconciliation is no longer necessary. But more likely it is because we are embarrassed by our falls from Grace. This differs from a pride that tells us we don’t need God’s forgiveness, but rather is more of a feeling that we might not be good enough for God to forgive us. I was away from the sacraments for 15 years. It was a difficult step for me to go to confession after all that time; there was a lot of ground to cover. After the priest had given me absolution, he said to me: “Welcome home.” What a great feeling!
There is no sin too large or too small to ask absolution for. His Mercy is larger than anything we could possibly do, and if we are sincerely contrite He is happy to reconcile us to Himself. A 17th century Jesuit wrote: “Oh! That all sinners who sincerely repent of their past offences could see in His heart the feelings He has for them – no resentment, no bitterness! How thoroughly He forgives them!”
I spoke of God’s forgiveness a few weeks ago as well, but it is so important for us to realize that God cares for us all individually, each and every one of us, to the point of providing us a way to experience His loving forgiveness in a tangible way. We should open our hearts, soften our hearts, and allow our God, through His Divine Mercy, to fill us with His light and His grace.
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April 8, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Easter Sunday, April 8, 2007
(Sung to ringing bells): “Christ has risen from the dead, trampling on death by death, and on those in the tomb, lavishing life!” That’s what they sing at Madonna House on Easter Sunday and every day of the Octave (the eight days) of Easter. Sing it with me at least once: “Christ has risen from the dead, trampling on death by death, and on those in the tomb, lavishing life!”
And when they greet each other during the week of Easter, they say, “Christ is risen!” and the response is “Truly he has risen!” Maybe we could try that today too. I seem to recall Archbishop Gervais recommending this practice one Easter. So at the door of the Church, instead of saying, “Happy Easter!” I’m going to try to remember to say, “Christ is risen!” And you will respond? . . . I didn’t hear you! “Truly he is risen!” And don’t be afraid to say that to your atheist neighbours when you see them today or during the week of Easter, “Christ is risen!”
Now down to practicalities: Christ is risen. So? Are we just congratulating Jesus like he’s a figure skater who just won a gold medal (applauding), “Good for you, Jesus. You did it! You showed them! You rose from the dead and proved you were really God” . . . Then the applause dies down . . . “Now I have to get back to my dull, dreary daily existence, my painful and empty life . . .” What? Is that how a Christian celebrates Easter?
The Resurrection is also our future, our destiny, our reward. Jesus Christ is the first born of the dead (Rev 1:5), the first born of many brothers and sisters (Rom 8:29). Jesus is the first to rise from the dead; the Immaculate Virgin Mary was the second person to rise from the dead in her Assumption; and we will follow next. What a future we have to look forward to! “Eye has not seen and ear has not heard, nor has it so much as dawned on the human heart what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor 2:9).
The risen, glorified human body is dazzlingly beautiful. If you recall the Transfiguration of Jesus, a foreshadowing of the Resurrection, when the disciples saw the glory of Jesus, they were transported out of themselves; they thought they were in heaven and they never wanted the moment to end (Mt 17:4, Mk 9:5, Lk 9:33).
The risen body is also mysterious, since it is not immediately recognizable, as we heard in today’s Gospel: at first Mary Magdalene thought that Jesus was the gardener (Jn 20:15). And as we know from other Gospel accounts, this body can appear and disappear, but it can also be seen and touched, and embraced, as Mary Magdalene held on to Jesus and did not want to let him go (Jn 20:17). It is a real body.
St. Catherine Laboure, the visionary of the Miraculous Medal, also discovered the reality of the risen body. On the night of July 18th, 1830, she spent two hours talking with the Mother of God, kneeling by her chair, with her hands on the knees of the Blessed Virgin Mary! Mary is a real person with a real body, risen and glorified, and dazzlingly beautiful.
The Assumption of Mary brings the Resurrection of Christ closer to home, closer to us. Christ is God. Mary is not. She is a daughter of Eve, a human being like us. She is a reminder that the beauty and glory of the Resurrected body is also our future, our destiny, our reward.
I mention in passing that the body of St. Catherine Laboure, which I saw in the chapel at Rue du Bac in Paris, is incorrupt. She died 130 years ago, but her body is still intact; her limbs are supple; it looks like she’s sleeping. This is scientifically impossible and another sign of the resurrection. The God who prevents a body from decaying is the same God that can raise a body from the dead.
For all these reasons, we get excited at Easter, yelling out to our uncomprehending atheist neighbours: “Christ is risen! I know what heaven is like! I know I have a place there! And I know that it begins on earth!”
How does it begin on earth? By living our baptism. In his Easter vigil homily last night in Rome, Pope Benedict had this to say: “Baptism is more than a bath, a purification. It is more than becoming part of a community. It is a new birth. A new beginning in life . . . our life now belongs to Christ, and no longer to ourselves” (end quote). In our baptism, we become adopted sons and daughters of God; we are made “holy and immaculate” (Eph 1:4), in a foretaste of the Resurrection.
Baptism is a gift that requires an effort to live. The new birth of baptism is a pure gift from God, which we did nothing to earn, as most of us were simply infants in our parents’ arms. But it requires a daily effort to live for God, which is what we promise to do when we renew the vows of our baptism, which all of us are doing today. Christ himself, when speaking of the Resurrection, refers to those made worthy to “attain” the Resurrection (Lk 20:35, cf Phil 3:11). Only the resurrection of condemnation can happen automatically (Jn 5:29). We must make an effort to attain the Resurrection of the dead to everlasting life.
On Easter Monday 90 years ago, some Canadian soldiers had to make a supreme and tremendous effort to attain their goal of Vimy Ridge, in one of the most memorable battles of the “Great War.” They had to shed their blood to attain that goal. Do we honour their memory by being lazy about the life they defended for us? Have the benefits of peace and technology so softened and spoiled us that we no longer know how to make an effort to attain our goals? Scripture warns us to “strive . . . for that holiness without which no one will see (God)” (Heb 12:14). Let us never forget that without constant spiritual striving, we will never attain the Resurrection of the dead.
The striving of Easter is much different, however, than the effort of Lent. During Lent, we hungered and thirsted with Jesus in the desert, being tempted by the devil; we plodded along, carrying our cross with Christ.
But in Easter, we don’t plod along, we run, like Peter and John to the empty tomb (Jn 20:4). Lord, we run in the way of your commands, for you give freedom to our hearts (Ps 119:32); you have set us free from our sins. We will rise up with eagle’s wings; we will run and not grow weary (Is 40:31). Lord, you raise us up so that we can stand on mountains; you raise us up to be more than we can be (cf. Josh Groban, You Raise Me Up).
Christ is risen! Truly he is risen!
But somehow the Resurrection is situated so far beyond our horizon, so far outside all our experience that, returning to ourselves, we find ourselves continuing the argument of the disciples: Of what exactly does this “rising” consist? What does it mean for us, for the whole world and the whole of history?
If we may borrow the language of the theory of evolution, it is the greatest “mutation”, absolutely the most crucial leap into a totally new dimension that there has ever been in the long history of life and its development: a leap into a completely new order which does concern us, and concerns the whole of history.
How can this event effectively reach me and draw my life upwards towards itself? The answer, perhaps surprising at first but totally real, is: this event comes to me through faith and Baptism.
Baptism means precisely this, that we are not dealing with an event in the past, but that a qualitative leap in world history comes to me, seizing hold of me in order to draw me on.
Baptism is something quite different from an act of ecclesial socialization, from a slightly old-fashioned and complicated rite for receiving people into the Church. It is also more than a simple washing, more than a kind of purification and beautification of the soul. It is truly death and resurrection, rebirth, transformation to a new life.
How can we understand this? I think that what happens in Baptism can be more easily explained for us if we consider the final part of the short spiritual autobiography that Saint Paul gave us in his Letter to the Galatians. Its concluding words contain the heart of this biography: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:20). I live, but I am no longer I. The “I”, the essential identity of man – of this man, Paul – has been changed. He still exists, and he no longer exists. He has passed through a “not” and he now finds himself continually in this “not”: I, but no longer I.
The Resurrection is not a thing of the past, the Resurrection has reached us and seized us. We grasp hold of it, we grasp hold of the risen Lord, and we know that he holds us firmly even when our hands grow weak. We grasp hold of his hand, and thus we also hold on to one another’s hands, and we become one single subject, not just one thing. I, but no longer I: this is the formula of Christian life rooted in Baptism, the formula of the Resurrection within time. I, but no longer I: if we live in this way, we transform the world.
(Sung to ringing bells): “Christ has risen from the dead, trampling on death by death, and on those in the tomb, lavishing life!” That’s what they sing at Madonna House on Easter Sunday and every day of the Octave (the eight days) of Easter. Sing it with me at least once: “Christ has risen from the dead, trampling on death by death, and on those in the tomb, lavishing life!”
And when they greet each other during the week of Easter, they say, “Christ is risen!” and the response is “Truly he has risen!” Maybe we could try that today too. I seem to recall Archbishop Gervais recommending this practice one Easter. So at the door of the Church, instead of saying, “Happy Easter!” I’m going to try to remember to say, “Christ is risen!” And you will respond? . . . I didn’t hear you! “Truly he is risen!” And don’t be afraid to say that to your atheist neighbours when you see them today or during the week of Easter, “Christ is risen!”
Now down to practicalities: Christ is risen. So? Are we just congratulating Jesus like he’s a figure skater who just won a gold medal (applauding), “Good for you, Jesus. You did it! You showed them! You rose from the dead and proved you were really God” . . . Then the applause dies down . . . “Now I have to get back to my dull, dreary daily existence, my painful and empty life . . .” What? Is that how a Christian celebrates Easter?
The Resurrection is also our future, our destiny, our reward. Jesus Christ is the first born of the dead (Rev 1:5), the first born of many brothers and sisters (Rom 8:29). Jesus is the first to rise from the dead; the Immaculate Virgin Mary was the second person to rise from the dead in her Assumption; and we will follow next. What a future we have to look forward to! “Eye has not seen and ear has not heard, nor has it so much as dawned on the human heart what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor 2:9).
The risen, glorified human body is dazzlingly beautiful. If you recall the Transfiguration of Jesus, a foreshadowing of the Resurrection, when the disciples saw the glory of Jesus, they were transported out of themselves; they thought they were in heaven and they never wanted the moment to end (Mt 17:4, Mk 9:5, Lk 9:33).
The risen body is also mysterious, since it is not immediately recognizable, as we heard in today’s Gospel: at first Mary Magdalene thought that Jesus was the gardener (Jn 20:15). And as we know from other Gospel accounts, this body can appear and disappear, but it can also be seen and touched, and embraced, as Mary Magdalene held on to Jesus and did not want to let him go (Jn 20:17). It is a real body.
St. Catherine Laboure, the visionary of the Miraculous Medal, also discovered the reality of the risen body. On the night of July 18th, 1830, she spent two hours talking with the Mother of God, kneeling by her chair, with her hands on the knees of the Blessed Virgin Mary! Mary is a real person with a real body, risen and glorified, and dazzlingly beautiful.
As an aside, the Assumption of Mary brings the Resurrection of Christ closer to home, closer to us. Christ is God. Mary is not. She is a daughter of Eve, a human being like us. She is a reminder that the beauty and glory of the Resurrected body is also our future, our destiny, our reward.
So that’s why we get excited at Easter, yelling out to our uncomprehending atheist neighbours: “Christ is risen! I know what heaven is like! I know I have a place there! And I know that it begins on earth!”
How does it begin on earth? By living our baptism. In his Easter vigil homily last night in Rome, Pope Benedict had this to say: “Baptism is more than a bath, a purification. It is more than becoming part of a community. It is a new birth. A new beginning in life . . . our life now belongs to Christ, and no longer to ourselves” (end quote). In our baptism, we become adopted sons and daughters of God; we are made “holy and immaculate” (Eph 1:4), in a foretaste of the Resurrection.
Baptism is a gift that requires an effort to live. The new birth of baptism is a pure gift from God, which we did nothing to earn, as most of us were simply infants in our parents’ arms. But it requires a daily effort to live for God, which is what we promise to do when we renew the vows of our baptism, which all of us are doing today. Christ himself, when speaking of the Resurrection, refers to those made worthy to “attain” the Resurrection (Lk 20:35, cf Phil 3:11). Only the resurrection of condemnation can happen automatically (Jn 5:29). We must make an effort to attain the Resurrection of the dead to everlasting life.
On Easter Monday 90 years ago, some Canadian soldiers had to make a supreme and tremendous effort to attain their goal of Vimy Ridge, in one of the most memorable battles of the “Great War.” They had to shed their blood to attain that goal. Do we honour their memory by being lazy about the life they defended for us? Have the benefits of peace and technology so softened and spoiled us that we no longer know how to make an effort to attain our goals? Scripture warns us to “strive . . . for that holiness without which no one will see (God)” (Heb 12:14). Let us never forget that without constant spiritual striving, we will never attain the Resurrection of the dead.
The striving of Easter is much different, however, than the effort of Lent. During Lent, we hungered and thirsted with Jesus in the desert, being tempted by the devil; we plodded along, carrying our cross with Christ.
But in Easter, we don’t plod along, we run, like Peter and John to the empty tomb (Jn 20:4). Lord, we run in the way of your commands, for you give freedom to our hearts (Ps 119:32); you have set us free from our sins. We will rise up with eagle’s wings; we will run and not grow weary (Is 40:31). Lord, you raise us up so that we can stand on mountains; you raise us up to be more than we can be (cf. Josh Groban, You Raise Me Up).
Christ is risen! Truly he is risen!
But somehow the Resurrection is situated so far beyond our horizon, so far outside all our experience that, returning to ourselves, we find ourselves continuing the argument of the disciples: Of what exactly does this “rising” consist? What does it mean for us, for the whole world and the whole of history?
If we may borrow the language of the theory of evolution, it is the greatest “mutation”, absolutely the most crucial leap into a totally new dimension that there has ever been in the long history of life and its development: a leap into a completely new order which does concern us, and concerns the whole of history.
How can this event effectively reach me and draw my life upwards towards itself? The answer, perhaps surprising at first but totally real, is: this event comes to me through faith and Baptism.
Baptism means precisely this, that we are not dealing with an event in the past, but that a qualitative leap in world history comes to me, seizing hold of me in order to draw me on. Baptism is something quite different from an act of ecclesial socialization, from a slightly old-fashioned and complicated rite for receiving people into the Church. It is also more than a simple washing, more than a kind of purification and beautification of the soul. It is truly death and resurrection, rebirth, transformation to a new life.
How can we understand this? I think that what happens in Baptism can be more easily explained for us if we consider the final part of the short spiritual autobiography that Saint Paul gave us in his Letter to the Galatians. Its concluding words contain the heart of this biography: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:20). I live, but I am no longer I. The “I”, the essential identity of man – of this man, Paul – has been changed. He still exists, and he no longer exists. He has passed through a “not” and he now finds himself continually in this “not”: I, but no longer I.
The Resurrection is not a thing of the past, the Resurrection has reached us and seized us. We grasp hold of it, we grasp hold of the risen Lord, and we know that he holds us firmly even when our hands grow weak. We grasp hold of his hand, and thus we also hold on to one another’s hands, and we become one single subject, not just one thing. I, but no longer I: this is the formula of Christian life rooted in Baptism, the formula of the Resurrection within time. I, but no longer I: if we live in this way, we transform the world.
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April 7, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Resurrection of the Lord
Easter Vigil, April 07, 2007
Most of us have probably just spent our day today like we would any other Saturday, perhaps with the addition of preparations of one sort or another for Easter. For the women and the apostles in the Gospel, though, it was a painful day of grieving and waiting. Their beloved teacher and master had been executed as a criminal. Because of the approach of sundown on Friday, the beginning of the Sabbath, there had only been time to quickly prepare the body before placing it in the tomb – they would have to wait until Sunday morning to finish. And so it was that the women came to the tomb as soon as possible, at early dawn, to complete the task. We can only imagine their surprise at finding the tomb open, and empty. The Gospel says that they were perplexed, but that probably does not quite adequately describe their reaction. Then, to further complicate things, two angels appear to tell them that Christ is not dead. They go back to tell the others, and what is the reaction of the apostles when they hear the story? They think that it is just an idle tale – some translations say they thought it nonsense. But it seems that Peter isn’t so sure that it’s not true. He doesn’t just walk to the tomb, thinking “Oh, those crazy women! I’m sure they’re imagining things, but I guess I had better go check this out anyway”. No, he runs to the tomb, runs to the tomb and finds that what the women have said is true. And he went home amazed.
And he went home amazed. Are we amazed? Knowing the entire story, are we still amazed? The events recounted in the past three days are truly amazing, the incredible pinnacle of God’s love for us. Think of the readings we have heard this evening. Beginning with Genesis, we hear of the progression of God’s plan throughout history. We see His hand guiding the Hebrews, ever faithful to the Covenant, even when they are unfaithful. The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus are concrete proof of God’s commitment to us all. “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”, the angel asked the women. “He is not here, but has risen.” Isn’t that cause for amazement?
Jesus is risen! He is among the living, even to this day. And we are also to be counted among the living, by virtue of our baptism, our continued faith in Christ, and our striving to die to sin and to be alive in Him. And after our own death, we will also participate in His resurrection in a very real way. In the creed, we say that we believe in the resurrection of the body. Now, we are prone to suffering and grief; our bodies are weak and subject to death. But, in eternity, they will be incorruptible and immortal. St. Paul tells us (referring to Jesus) “…who will change our lowly body to be like His glorious body”. Of course, that is on the condition that we live our lives in accordance with God’s will. Our bodies will rise regardless, but…well, I’ll leave that for another time.
Jesus is risen! The resurrection is not just an event. As the Catechism states, it is the crowning truth of our faith in Christ. This is the fundamental, central truth of our beliefs, of what it means to be a Catholic and a child of God. What great gifts we have from God – Jesus as our saviour, and the gift of faith which He has freely given us. Not everyone accepts this gift, and unfortunately some reject it outright because it doesn’t fit with their desires or lifestyle. God has given us free will – it’s up to us to decide our path. He takes us only so far as we are prepared to let Him. This evening, we have with us seven people who opened the door to God’s will in their lives in a special way. Each of them has personal reasons for undertaking the process last fall to become Catholic tonight. When I was studying to become a Deacon, I often said we were not so much being trained as being formed – in fact, it is called Diaconate formation. Over the course of the last few months, it was evident that this was happening in our RCIA group. They were being formed as Catholics. They were all seeking the truth – the fullness of the truth that resides in our Catholic faith. Did they question? Of course they did. But they were the earnest questions of people who want to believe. Our faith doesn’t change to suit the person, but everyone needs to understand that its objective truth actually fits their own lives. There is a difference between questions and doubt. A doubter tends to not want to believe; a questioner tends to want to discover how to believe. None of us knows all there is to know about God and our faith – we can always dig a little deeper, find more clarity, or uncover something that we had not even realised. Like those being received into the church this evening, our own education and formation in our faith should be a continuing process. And, like Peter, we might be amazed at what we find.
This evening, and always, we can rejoice that Jesus rose from the dead as the Lord over all. When we put our faith in Him, we find true life during this life, and everlasting life after death.
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April 6, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
6 April 2007
Have you ever failed at something – I mean failed painfully and miserably so that you couldn’t possibly deny it or hide it from other people? Maybe something small like a recipe at a dinner party, a test in school; maybe something major like a relationship?
The first time I recall failing miserably . . . was my driver’s test when I was 16 years old. It’s embarrassing. Someone was crossing the cross-walk with lights flashing and I didn’t stop. So I failed my driver’s license. I had failed in more serious things – such as breaking the promises of my baptism and failing to live as a Christian, but at 16 years old I seemed to care more about my driver’s license than my soul.
Did Jesus fail? Do you think he felt like a failure when he died on the Cross? His own people did not accept him (Jn 1:11). His mission on earth appeared to have been a failure.
When someone is despised, rejected and killed, usually we don’t call that a success story. But we know, looking back, that the “failure” of Jesus was the greatest triumph of love in human history. By dying Jesus destroyed death and the works of the devil (1 Jn 3:8); he saved the entire human race, and opened for us the gates of paradise. Jesus loved and hoped and persevered to the end, trusting in his heavenly Father, and in the end he was rewarded for his trust with the gift of new life in the Resurrection.
This is one of the great lessons of the Passion of Jesus Christ: if we give our lives to God, we can never fail. All apparent “failure” will turn into triumph.
“When I survey the wondrous Cross” and consider the suffering, death and
Resurrection of Christ, I reflect that . . . it’s not such a bad thing to die. When we gaze upon the 13th station of the Cross, Jesus is taken down from the Cross and given to his Mother, a moment perfectly captured in Michelangelo’s Pieta at St. Peter’s in Rome, there’s a sense of relief that the horrible sufferings of Jesus are over. Rest in peace, Jesus.
It’s not such a bad thing to die in union with Jesus Christ. After all, that is the only doorway into heaven, eternal life and the Resurrection of the body. It’s not such a bad thing to die . . . to sin, to self and selfishness. And it’s not such a bad thing to fail, if failure leads to a dying to self so that Christ can live in us, so that we can say with St. Paul that “I no longer live, Christ lives in me” (Gal 2:20).
I want to share with you another failure of mine, over which I rejoice with great relief! Yes! Over the past three years or so, I have failed to convert sinners in our parish, judging by the lack of participation at Mass, adoration, Confession and so on. And I rejoice that I have failed, for now God can arise.
Let it be known from this moment forward, that if a sinner converts in our parish – and remember there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents (Lk 15:7) – it is due to the infinite mercy of God our Father, to the blood and merits of Jesus Christ before the Father, and to the merits and intercession of the Immaculate Heart of Mary.
To the other “failures” out there, I say: do not be afraid to die – to prepare for physical death and Resurrection by dying to self in this sense – do not be afraid to admit the ways in which you have failed.
Let us put our failures into the tomb with Jesus today and tomorrow on Holy Saturday when the whole earth is silent in mourning (and let us try to limit our activities to honour the silence of Holy Saturday).
We have tried this Lent, through various forms of penance, to die to our sins, bad habits, selfishness. Let us also bury our old selves with Jesus, as we did in our baptism; let us surrender all our failures to Jesus. I say this especially to those who fall again and again into the same old sins. Do not be discouraged. Surrender your failures to Jesus.
In our baptism, we already rose again with Christ. On Easter, when we renew the vows of our baptism, let us prepare to begin a new life.
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April 5, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
5 April 2007
I have here in my hands a love letter . . . Are you curious to know to whom and from whom it is written? Of course it is a letter from God, and I assumed that it would be addressed to everyone in our parish, but it’s not. There are only three groups of people mentioned in the greeting. I hope that you count yourselves as part of at least one of these three groups, otherwise this love-letter from God is not addressed to you!
“To the poor, to children, and to sinners.” Those are the three groups to whom God is writing and speaking. Do you belong to one of those three groups? Are you rich and in need of nothing (Rev 3:17)? Are you already mature and perfect in your faith (Phil 3:12,15)? Do you pride yourself on your righteousness (Lk 18:11-12)? Then I guess this love letter is not for you.
What does this letter include? The Last Supper narratives of the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, and today’s second reading from Paul and the Gospel from John (see appendix). God’s love letter to us is His Word in the Scriptures and the Word made Flesh in the Eucharist.
In the Gospel of John, in the introduction to the Last Supper, we read that Jesus loved his disciples “to the end” (Jn 13:1); he loved them “to perfection.” There is nothing more that he could have done to prove his love for us than to die on the Cross and to make his saving death present in the Last Supper in giving us His Body and Blood.
But there are some people here who have eyes but cannot see, and cannot read the writing on this page in black and white; they have ears but they cannot hear the Word of God (cf Mt 13:13-15); the love of their hearts has grown cold (Mt 24:12), and they do not have the love of God in them (Jn 5:42).
How else do you explain the indifference with which some people receive Holy Communion, as if they are receiving a “thing” instead of a Person, Christ himself? ( a comment made by the Holy Father in his Apostolic Exhortation Sacramentum Caritatis #7).
I could read you long excerpts from Benedict’s letter, and I know some of you would appreciate that, because you have the love of God in you. But some of you would be bored . . . why? . . . because you do not have the love of God in you. Oh, yes, you had it once in your baptism, when the virtues of faith, hope and love were infused into your soul. But in the words of Jesus, “you have lost the love you had at first. Realize how far you have fallen and repent” (Rev 2:4-5). Especially at Easter, when we renew the promises of our baptism, let us return to the love we had at first.
What do you do when love has grown cold in a marriage, or in any relationship? Do you go to your doctor and say, “My heart feels cold. I think I need a heart transplant – does OHIP cover that?” Do you go to a travel agent and spend thousands on a getaway weekend to . . . Paris to have a candlelight dinner together on the Champs-Elysees? (It would be nice but it’s far from necessary). What do you do? All you really have to do is something called . . . make a decision.
“The love in my heart for this person is growing cold . . . I don’t want that. I am going to do something about it.”
“I notice that my reception of Holy Communion has become an unthinking routine, as if I am receiving a thing instead of a Person . . . I don’t want that. I am going to do something about it.”
It’s Holy Thursday but I have nothing new to say to you about the Eucharist. Like St. John said in his letters, “I am not giving you a new commandment. I am simply repeating again and again the commandment you have had from the beginning but that you keep forgetting – let us love God and love one another” (cf. 1 John 3:11, 2 John 1:5).
This Holy Thursday I invite each one of us to make one simple decision and resolution that you can keep, some practical way that you can show that you have read and understood God’s love letter for you in his Word in the Scriptures and his Word made Flesh in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood. Something small but significant to show God that you appreciate his love for you in the Eucharist.
What will it be? Perhaps the resolution to say one prayer before Mass in preparation, and one prayer after Mass in thanksgiving. Perhaps to meditate at home on the readings for each Sunday. Perhaps as a way of deepening our experience of the liturgy, the decision to pray all or part of the Rosary . . . slowly . . . as a contemplative prayer. Those who already do such things I’m sure can think of other practices to show God that you appreciate his love for you in the Eucharist, such as more frequent sacramental Reconciliation, with a firm intention of changing your life.
That’s it. I have nothing new to say. I will end with this “Act of Love” which I have simply copied from the Appendix to the Compendium of the Catechism:
“O my God, I love you above all things, with my whole heart and soul, because you are all good and worthy of all love. I love my neighbour as myself for the love of you. I forgive all who have injured me, and ask pardon of all whom I have injured. Amen.”
NAB Matthew 26:26 While they were eating, Jesus took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and giving it to his disciples said, “Take and eat; this is my body.” 27 Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you, 28 for this is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins. 29 I tell you, from now on I shall not drink this fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it with you new in the kingdom of my Father.” 30 Then, after singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.
NAB Mark 14:22 While they were eating, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, and said, “Take it; this is my body.” 23 Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. 24 He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many. 25 Amen, I say to you, I shall not drink again the fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” 26 Then, after singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.
NAB Luke 22:15 He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer, 16 for, I tell you, I shall not eat it (again) until there is fulfillment in the kingdom of God.” 17 Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and said, “Take this and share it among yourselves; 18 for I tell you (that) from this time on I shall not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.” 19 Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me.” 20 And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you.
NAB 1 Corinthians 11:23 For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over, took bread, 24 and, after he had given thanks, broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 25 In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” 26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.
NAB John 13:1 Before the feast of Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father. He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end. 2 The devil had already induced Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot, to hand him over. So, during supper, 3 fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God, 4 he rose from supper and took off his outer garments. He took a towel and tied it around his waist. 5 Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and dry them with the towel around his waist. 6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Master, are you going to wash my feet?” 7 Jesus answered and said to him, “What I am doing, you do not understand now, but you will understand later.” 8 Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me.” 9 Simon Peter said to him, “Master, then not only my feet, but my hands and head as well.” 10 Jesus said to him, “Whoever has bathed has no need except to have his feet washed, for he is clean all over; so you are clean, but not all.” 11 For he knew who would betray him; for this reason, he said, “Not all of you are clean.” 12 So when he had washed their feet (and) put his garments back on and reclined at table again, he said to them, “Do you realize what I have done for you? 13 You call me ‘teacher’ and ‘master,’ and rightly so, for indeed I am. 14 If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. 15 I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do. 16 Amen, amen, I say to you, no slave is greater than his master nor any messenger greater than the one who sent him. 17 If you understand this, blessed are you if you do it. 18 I am not speaking of all of you. I know those whom I have chosen. But so that the scripture might be fulfilled, ‘The one who ate my food has raised his heel against me.’ 19 From now on I am telling you before it happens, so that when it happens you may believe that I AM. 20 Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever receives the one I send receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.”
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April 1, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Palm Sunday, Year C, April 1st 2007
St. Peter and Benedict XVI
When people hear that I was in Rome last week they ask me, “did you meet the Pope?” Well, I did see Benedict XVI at the General Audience on Wednesday along with 40 000 other people from all over the world, but I did speak with some of the other Popes, like St. Peter and John Paul II, as I presented your petitions to them at their tombs. And if people think it is silly to speak to dead Popes, they should talk to Sister Marie Simon-Pierre who was on the cover of Saturday’s Citizen and whom was miraculously cured of Parkinson’s by “speaking” to John Paul II and asking for his intercession.
On the subject of meeting the Pope, I ask, “what good is it to shake hands with the Pope if we do not listen to what he says? What good is it to meet him if we do not follow his teaching?” Spiritually, we can be very close to our Holy Father by praying for him when we mention his name at Mass, and by praying with him when we pray for his intentions, and by actually reading what he has written, for example, his letter to young people on the World Day of Youth (which is tomorrow/today) which is posted on our website or available at vatican.va in several languages . . . including English.
I love and admire our Holy Father for many reasons; for one thing, he never seems to get discouraged by people’s lack of attentiveness or response, and he perseveres in preaching the Gospel in season and out of season, constantly reminding the people of the entire planet of God our Father’s great love for us as revealed in his Son Jesus Christ.
Benedict our current Pope makes us think of Peter, our first Pope, who is one of the main characters in the drama we read today of the Passion of Christ. St. Peter obviously had a great personal love for Jesus Christ; otherwise, he would not have even thought of saying, “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death!” (Lk 22:33). And Peter was surely among the crowd of disciples who praised God joyfully, and with a loud voice, for all the deeds of power they had seen, saying, ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!’” (Lk 19:38).
We know that Peter later denied Jesus three times, saying, “I do not know him” (Lk 22:57), but soon after repented of his sin, and wept bitterly. After the Resurrection, he made that three-fold declaration of love, saying, “Lord, you know all things. You know that I love you” (Jn 21:17). These words are writ large in St. Peter’s basilica, in black and gold, just below the dome, “Tu scis quia diligo te” “You know that I love you.”
St. Peter’s basilica is built on this love; it is literally built over the bones of St. Peter, which you can see on a tour of the “Scavi” or excavations directly under the high altar, where there is a chapel where we celebrated Mass on Friday, March 23rd. Here we can “touch” the apostolic foundations of the Church: Jesus Christ founded the Catholic Church on the faith and love of a real person, St. Peter, whose bones are there under the high altar of St. Peter’s basilica in Rome.
Peter’s journey of denial and repentance is a good image of our Lenten journey. Whenever we sin, we deny our personal friendship with our Lord. But many of us have confessed our sins this Lent, and grown in our love of God and our gratitude for his mercy, so that as Easter approaches, we can also say to Jesus in the words of Peter, “Lord, you know that I love you.”
(9:00 and 10:30 only)
I would like to share with some words addressed personally to the youth from our Pope (words about love that are relevant for everyone). In his message for the 22nd World Youth Day, he writes, “Everybody feels the longing to love and to be loved. Yet, how difficult it is to love, and how many mistakes and failures have to be reckoned with in love! There are those who even come to doubt that love is possible. But if emotional delusions or lack of affection can cause us to think that love is utopian, an impossible dream, should we then become resigned? No! Love is possible, and the purpose of my message is to help reawaken in each one of you — (italics mine) you who are the future and hope of humanity — trust in a love that is true, faithful and strong; a love that generates peace and joy . . . ”
On this Passion/Palm Sunday, I include a few more words of Benedict on the Passion of Christ: “The Cross — for the world a folly, for many believers a scandal — is in fact the ‘wisdom of God’ for those who allow themselves to be touched right to the innermost depths of their being . . . each one of us” as we gaze upon the Cross “can truly say, ‘Christ loved me and gave himself up for me’ (Gal 2:20). Redeemed by his blood, no human life is useless or of little value, because each one of us is loved personally by Him with a passionate and faithful love, a love without limits.”
For those of you who do not have time to read a 2.5 page message from our Pope, I invite to read at least 7 sentences. I have brought back from Rome a gift for each one of you. I did not have enough room in my luggage to bring back Belgian chocolates or Italian wine for everyone. Instead you have something far better and more lasting: a personal message from the Holy Father, in the pews on these cards that you can take home with you. On the last line that you can read there, he writes, “there is nothing more beautiful than to know Christ and to speak to others about our friendship with Him.”
This friendship deepens every time we receive the Eucharist with living faith. After receiving Jesus today in Holy Communion, perhaps we could take some extra time of silence . . . to tell Jesus in the words of our first Pope, St. Peter, “Lord, you know that I love you.”
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Homilies