August 26, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Twenty-first Sunday, Year C, August 26th, 2007
Do you see these sunglasses in my hand? These are no ordinary sunglasses, no: they are soul-searching sunglasses. I was praying one day in the Church and I found them. By putting on these sunglasses you can see into a person’s soul. A person that may appear old and decrepit on the outside, if you put on these sunglasses, you might see a brilliant, beautiful, dazzling light of a son or daughter of the Most High God! On the other hand, someone who appears so perfect and pious from the outside, you put on these sunglasses and you might see something ugly, like an undeveloped and deformed fetus of a strange animal.
In putting on these sunglasses today, I am very hopeful about what I am going to see; after all, this is a Catholic Church – we’re in the business of producing beautiful souls! On the other hand, I am a bit apprehensive about what I am going to see, because . . . this is the Catholic Church . . . in 21st century Canada . . . somewhat lacking in the fruits of holiness.
O.K. Here goes . . . (put on sunglasses, scanning the congregation) . . . I’m just getting a good look at everyone . . .
I will tell you a little later what I saw. But first let’s get to the point: “Strive to enter through the narrow door” (Lk 13:24). “Strive . . . for that holiness without which no one will see the Lord” (Heb 12:14). Strive to purify your soul of sin, to nurture it on personal prayer, to adorn it with virtue, so that it will be beautiful to behold by those with soul-searching sunglasses, but most of all, by God.
Jesus warns us that the appearance of piety, the outward practice of religion, and mere membership in the Church are not sufficient for salvation. Many people make a pretense of religion but deny its power, as St. Paul puts (2 Tim 3:5).
Jesus admonishes his own people, God’s chosen people, reminding them that intimacy with God in appearance only is empty and meaningless: “Lord, open to us! We ate and drank with you, and you taught in our streets!” “I don’t know you. Go away from me, all you evildoers!” (Lk 13: 26-7)
These words could refer to those Jewish people who personally met Jesus and actually ate and drank with him at a dinner party here on earth. But this verse literally reads, “we ate and drank before you or in your presence (enopion).” A similar word is used in the Old Testament to describe eating a sacrificial meal in the presence of God (enantion Deut 12:7,18). So these words apply not only to Jews living in the time of Jesus, but to Catholics today, who eat and drink a sacrificial meal in the presence of God, in the Eucharist every single Sunday.
God forbid that any of us would arrive one day at the gates of heaven and say to Jesus, “Lord, open to me! I am a Catholic! I ate and drank in your presence at Mass! I ate and drank . . . you . . . your Body and Blood!”
“I do not know you. You never prayed, listened or talked to me before, during or after Mass. Actually, you barely listened or spoke to me at all! And now you are pretending to know me?
Go away from me you evildoer!”
Yes, we eat and drink in your presence, Lord. We eat and drink your Body and Blood. But that’s not enough to enter through the narrow door into the kingdom of heaven. We cannot just warm the pews at Mass with our bodily presence; we need to live the Mass. That’s a good theme for our parish for this pastoral year from September until June, as we look ahead to the International Eucharistic Congress in Quebec from June 15-22. Live the Mass, strive to enter into the narrow gate, strive for that holiness without which no one will see the Lord, that holiness which is inseparable from the happiness we all seek.
I have here also another pair of glasses. I call these “Renoir” glasses, in honour of the current exhibit at the National Gallery. Has anyone been to see the Renoir landscape paintings? If you get the audio guide, it will describe some details about his use of paint, colour and so on. But what I find interesting is his choice of subject matter, the type of glasses he wore, how he chose to see the world. For example, when he was renting an apartment in the Montmartre district of Paris, he would have seen and could have painted the garbage in the street; instead, he chose to paint the flowers in his backyard. In all his paintings, he chooses to see and reproduce the beauty of life, of creation and of human beings – people enjoying their Sunday leisure strolling by Sainte-Trinite Church, eating at the Fournaise restaurant in Chatou, a couple in love taking a row boat out on the Seine river.
God wears both kinds of glasses – with the soul-searching sunglasses, he sees everything, including the ugliness of our sins, but he chooses not to look upon them. What does that mean? In the “Our Father” during Mass, we pray, “look not upon our sins, but upon the faith of your Church.” God sees our sins but chooses not to look upon them – to dwell on them, to focus on them. Instead, with the “Renoir” glasses, he chooses to look upon and contemplate our beauty, the beauty of his image in us that is never lost. Some souls are like an old, tarnished silver cup that just needs to be cleansed and polished before it shines again.
There are some souls in this parish that do shine with a brilliant and beautiful light. There are other souls that are deformed by sin that has not yet been confessed, and other souls with the spiritual maturity of a child in the body of an adult.
God looks upon all these souls with the eyes of a loving Father. As we hear in the words of absolution in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, God is the “Father of mercies.” He is deeply saddened by our sins, but hopeful that one day we will finally repent and be washed clean in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, hopeful that one day we will finally wake up from our complacency, our developmental delay, our spiritual immaturity, our mere outward practice of religion.
What are you waiting for? September is around the corner. The children are going back to school for their education. (Some children are weeping; may parents are relieved). Don’t we all need to “go back to school” to learn more about our faith and the goal of all our striving in this world? The writer of the letter to the Hebrews, in the second reading, speaks at length of “discipline” or “paideia,” which also means “education” or “training.” All of us could use some more education and training for our souls, to purify them from sin, to nurture them on personal prayer, to adorn them with virtues, so that they will be beautiful to behold by those with soul-searching sunglasses, but most of all, by the searcher of hearts, by God.
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August 19, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Twentieth Sunday of Ordinary Time
August 19, 2007
How would we answer the question Jesus asks in today’s Gospel? “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth?” Probably, most of us would respond: “well, yes, actually, we did think so”. Yet, Jesus answers His question differently: “No, I tell you, but rather division!”. Does this make us feel a bit uneasy? Isn’t Jesus supposed to be here, sent by the Father to bring love, forgiveness, happiness? Aren’t the concepts of peace and conflict opposed to each other?
God does want us to have peace – the peace of living our lives knowing the truth, and living our lives according to His will. This can sometimes cause friction, hostility, and conflict within our families, our communities, and the world. When Jesus speaks of households being divided, He is not talking about what we might call a “generation gap”. He’s not referring to the differences most families experience between children and their parents. You wouldn’t know it to see me now, but in my youth I was a somewhat of a typical rebellious teenager. My hair is short and grey now, but then, like many others, my hair was about halfway down my back, and dark blonde. I’m sure you get the idea. My father and I did not see eye-to-eye on many things, or really on just about anything. There were actually a couple of occasions when I quoted today’s Gospel, and the similar passage from the tenth chapter of Matthew, to somehow justify our disagreements. “See. it’s right here in the bible – Jesus said so!” Of course, this is not quite an accurate interpretation of Jesus’ words. Jesus is speaking of the conflicts that arise when some members of a family are believers in Him, and others are not. This may be children who have fallen away, despite their solid upbringing by very faithful parents. Or, perhaps a spouse who has converted, but is not joined in his or her new faith by the other spouse. Sometimes, it is a child who retains, and grows in a relationship with God, regardless of parents who may not continue to follow the same path.
As I said, my father and I did not get along well at all when I was young. But, my parents were both devout Catholics. They laid a solid foundation for me that, by the grace of God, gave me the basis for overcoming my difficulties, and has helped guide me in life. At this point, my father and I get along pretty well. My two brothers and my sister were raised in the same way, by the same parents. Yet none of them currently practise their faith. Although I was very blessed that my sister and one brother were able to attend my ordination, I think they view my commitment to the faith as something that belongs to the past. My sister, in particular, considers herself a seeker – as long as it doesn’t include seeking truth in the faith of her Baptism. How did the four of us turn out so differently? I don’t have the answer to that, but Jesus told us that would happen.
It seems that similar things happen in most families today. The message of Christ challenges people and their relationships. This not only creates divisions between us, but also conflicts within us. It can cause us sorrow to have loved ones who have lapsed from, or rejected, the faith. We would be thrilled if we were able to convince them to return to the Church. On the other hand, we want to have peaceful relations with others, especially with those we care about. How much easier life would be if we could just look the other way and ignore the situation… and be peaceful! We want to challenge them to wake up, to recapture what they’ve lost. But we don’t want to argue, or drive them further away. How can we reconcile these competing feelings?
We should not despair. We should continue to pray for them, to ask God’s blessing and mercy for them. We can judge a person’s actions objectively in light of Christ’s teachings, but we cannot judge their soul. Only God can determine someone’s relationship with Him. Now, don’t misunderstand me – not all roads lead to God. Jesus specifically said: “No one comes to the Father but by me”. Yet, we cannot possibly know how our just and merciful God will resolve things. In considering our lapsed loved ones, what we need to do is pray for them, and trust them to God’s mercy.
We also need to understand why some of our children or siblings, or neighbours, have left the church. Sometimes, it’s just because the teachings of the church don’t fit their lifestyle. In our culture, today (and for the past forty years or so), we are constantly exposed to ideas and influences contrary to the faith. It becomes much easier to fall into living according to the currently fashionable trends than to live by the immutable Word of God. Also, some people, at any age, leave the Church because of some grudge or insult, real or perceived. No action by the Pope, a bishop, a priest, a deacon, or other members of our parish, should ever cause us to reject our Catholic faith. Or, it could be that someone feels that God did not listen to their prayers, didn’t provide for their needs, or let a loved one suffer, or die. Faith should be our strength in such times. But, those kinds of things sometimes do cause people to lapse. Regardless of the reason for someone falling away, we need to be understanding, loving, and gentle in helping those people to re-establish their relationship with God and become joyful members of the Body of Christ.
The teachings of Jesus will inevitably cause division. Not because He wants to create conflict, but because living according to His word is in conflict with our culture. Even when there is conflict around us, we are called to remain faithful. It is in being faithful to Jesus that we will attain everlasting peace.
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August 5, 2007
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Eighteenth Sunday, Year C, August 5th, 2007
“So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God” (Lk 12:21 RSV, NRSV). What does it mean to be “rich toward God”? In other translations (of “eis theon plouton”) we hear “rich in what matters to God” (NAB) or “rich in the sight of God” (NJB).
For one thing, to be “rich toward God” means to give thanks and praise to God for all the good things in life. What does the rich man do? Not a single word of thanks to God, who made the sun shine and the rain to fall (Mt 5:45)so that his land produced abundantly (Lk 12:16).
From the cornfields surrounding the village of Russell, we can see how our land also produces abundantly. Do we take that for granted, or do we give thanks to God? Because of our abundant sins, God could, if he wanted to, punish us with drought as he did in the time of King Ahab and the prophet Elijah (1 Kings 17). Instead, God in his mercy spoils us with an abundance of all good things. In the very least, we do well, always and everywhere, to give him thanks and praise, which the rich man in the Gospel failed to do. So he is not rich toward God; he is a fool.
Secondly, he is not rich toward God because he does not share with others the wealth God has given to him. God has given the earth to everyone, so that there might be bread enough for all. There are so many people starving in the global South not because God hates them and loves us, or because they are stupid and lazy and we are smart and hard-working, no: one reason they are starving is because we do not share our wealth with them as God intended. Those who do not share with the poor are not rich toward God; they are fools and God will demand back the lives he lent them and insist upon an account of their misspent wealth.
Jesus, in this short parable, also brilliantly captures the psychology and spiritual poverty of the rich man who is very representative of our own culture, in which an abundance of wealth has made us forgetful of God, (as the Holy Spirit warns God’s people in Deuteronomy Chapter 8, which I do not have time to read).
Notice how poor this rich man really is. He has no relationship with God – the greatest poverty of all. He is so lonely and isolated that he talks to himself, saying, “what should I do” with all my extra wealth? I will do this: build bigger barns and say to my soul, “Soul, relax, eat, drink and be merry” (Lk 12:19).
I’m afraid many people spend too much time talking to themselves in this interior monologue, saying to themselves, “what should I do” next for my own selfish pleasure? What can I do this weekend to relax, eat, drink, and be merry? Hmmm . . . what should I do for myself? Hidden beneath such words there is profound loneliness and unhappiness. If we are not rich toward God by having a relationship with God expressed in generosity with others, then we are most poor and miserable.
Contrast this to the words of St. Paul in his conversion, in his dialogue with God; he also asked “what should I do?” But St. Paul adds one word that the rich man forgot – “Lord.” St. Paul in his conversion said, “what should I do, Lord?” (Acts 22:10).
There is a world of difference between these phrases:
1) talking to yourself, saying, “what should I do?” or
2) talking to God, having a relationship with him, asking him, “what should I do, Lord?” “What do you want me to do?” “Your will is my peace, my joy, my happiness! Not my will but thy will be done!” (Lk 22:42).
There is a world of difference between the rich man and St. Paul, and in our time, between an unbeliever and a Christian.
Here’s a visual example. The Psalm reminds us that mortal human beings are like grass (or flowers) that are renewed in the morning, but in the evening wither and fade (Psalm 90). These two flowers represent the difference between an unbeliever, like the rich man in the Gospel, and a Christian. Children, look at these two flowers (one wilted in a vase, the other in a pot with soil). What’s the difference between these two flowers?
The flower in the pot is like a Christian who is rooted in God, who has a deep relationship with God, who never withers but bears fruit in due season (Psalm 1). The unbeliever is like this flower that is cut off from its roots, and has no water; it withers and fades. Just yesterday this flower was looking in the mirror and talking to itself, saying, “look at me! I am so rich and beautiful and strong! I don’t need God!” And look at it today – it’s dead. Jesus warns us that’s exactly what will happen to us if we store up treasures for ourselves but don’t share with others and are not rich toward God, if we spend all our time looking at ourselves and talking to ourselves but never talking with God, or giving him thanks and praise.
We are such poor rich people in our culture, blinded by our materialism and consumerism! What can deliver us? Have any of you ever been on a holiday – no TV, radio, newspapers — perhaps camping in an isolated area, when you didn’t need money for a whole week and couldn’t spend any money because there were no stores? It’s nice to enjoy at least one week that doesn’t revolve around money. Or at least some sort of holiday where you can “get away from it all” and re-discover what really matters in life – your spouse, your children, family, friends . . . God. Yes, we all need to be unplugged from the matrix of our secular society driven by materialism, consumerism, and the greed that is idolatry (Colossians 3:5), and to become more deeply rooted in God.
Jesus reminds us in the Gospel: “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions” (Lk 12:15). One way that we can be unplugged from the matrix, more deeply rooted in God, and delivered from the greed, loneliness and unhappiness of the rich man in the Gospel is generosity in sharing our wealth with the poor.
Would it kill anyone of us here to be more rich toward God by giving more money to the poor? Would any of us starve to death or be homeless as a result?
And that concrete act of giving, of reaching out to others, delivers us from the haze of our self-centeredness, and the trap of that interior monologue of “what should I do” next for my own selfish pleasure? When we give to others, we also return to God, the root and source of our life, so that he can continue to bless our “land” abundantly, to bless us with true and lasting happiness.
Yes, when we are rich toward God, and we share with others, we offer to God something so small and simple, like a loaf of bread or a cup of wine, and in his infinite generosity he gives us everything in return – He gives us himself in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood.
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Homilies