Author: patcamerino

How many of you have seen the movie The Wizard of Oz? How many have seen it more than once? Good! I have a couple of “trivial pursuit” questions for all you Wizard fans. Who played the part of the Tin Woodsman? Jack Haley. Now for the next one. Who, originally, was cast in the role of the Tin Woodsman, but had to quit because he was allergic to the silver paint he had to wear? It was Buddy Ebsen.

Now for your biblical question: for those who aren’t Wizard fans, but who listened closely to the readings for today. A few minutes ago, you heard the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles. You heard how two men were proposed for the position of the twelfth apostle, the one who was to replace Judas. The man who was selected was Matthias. My question is: who was the man who didn’t make it? If you were listening real closely, the answer is easy. It was Joseph Barsabbas, also known as Justus.

Here’s another question for you. But it’s not quite as trivial, nor as easy. How do you think Joseph Barsabbas felt when Matthias was selected? Image for a moment. Joseph had been one of the disciples. He, too, had been present at the baptism of Jesus. He, too, listened to him preach. He heard the same stories, saw the same cures. Just like Matthais, Joseph was there when they nailed Jesus to the cross. Joseph saw the risen Lord. He was just as qualified as Matthias, but he wasn’t chosen as an apostle. How did he feel?

Here’s another question for you, an even more important one. How do you feel when you’re not selected? Do you remember the last time you were passed over for a promotion? Or for a merit increase in your salary? Is there a group in your neighborhood you’ve been dying to get into – but they haven’t let you in? Is there a team at school where you didn’t make the cut?

Our American culture has done a very terrible job on us. Our society seems to say I have to be number one. I always need to be a winner. There is no place for second-best. History books record the name of Christopher Columbus and Neil Armstrong. But who was the second navigator to reach the new world? Who was the second man, or the last one, to touch foot on the moon?

Matthias is called Saint Matthias. When you drive through Magnolia on the way north, you pass St Matthias the Apostle Church. I’ve never heard of St Joseph Barsabbas church. Yet I’d bet Joseph Barsabbas, also known as Justus, was every bit the saint that Matthias was. And why do I believe this? The answer is not an easy one. But the key is in today’s gospel reading.

In today’s passage, we have part of a prayer by Jesus. Oh, it’s not as famous as the “Our Father” we recite all the time. But it is a prayer. It too, begins: “0h Father most holy, protect them with your name which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one.” It’s called Jesus’ unity prayer. His desire for us to be one. And in it, he tells his Father, and us, a very amazing thing about his followers, and about us. He says: “They are not of the world, any more than I am of the world.”

Jesus well recognizes the difficulties present in this world. Yet, he does not ask his Father to take his followers out of this world. Instead, he prays to his Father to guard them, to protect them, to give them strength and courage in this world. Jesus never assured his followers life would be easy. He never said they would be selected ahead of anyone else for places of honor in this world. Yet, we tend to believe if we live right, then we should get what we want. This is an attitude that I, myself, need to guard against.

There have been times in my professional career when I’ve not been happy in the job I’m in. And so when this gets to be a major stress point, I start sending resumes to seek employment elsewhere. Much of the time, there’s no response. And when there is, it’s been negative. Over the past twenty-five years, I’ve received some excellent turn-down letters. And these have been the times when I’ve fallen into the trap our society, our culture, has set for us. I judge myself to be second-best. It’s then, that I fear God doesn’t love me, because I’m not chosen, when I think I’m just as qualified as the next guy, and maybe even more qualified!

It’s times like this when I need to reflect on the message in today’s readings. God does not take me from the world, from the trials and tribulations I seem to think surround me. Instead, he gives me the strength to carry on where I am. I need to focus on the fact he continues to love me even when I judge I, myself, am not number one. God is not a football coach making draft selections, he is my loving parent who continues to believe in me, even when I fail to believe in myself.

In his prayer, Jesus said that as his father sent him into the world, so he sends me into the world. We are not only called by God, we are also sent by him. We are sent with a special gift, the gift of his consecration. Jesus has consecrated not only himself, but us too. He has made us holy. That’s what his prayer to his father says: “Consecrate them by means of truth … as you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world; I consecrate myself for their sakes now, that they may be consecrated in truth.” In a few minutes, Father Ed will celebrate the consecration of the Eucharistic bread. But in this celebration, each of us is again consecrated. Together, we all become one in Christ. And being one in Christ means we are all winners.

Perhaps, Buddy Ebsen couldn’t be the Tin Woodsman. Perhaps, Joseph Barsabbas will never have a church named after him. Perhaps, I’ll never get that perfect job in the perfect place I’ve been seeking. But no matter what happens in this world, no matter how many times we are not chosen to perform a special role in this world, we can be absolutely certain God has chosen us. Yes, we are each chosen by God. Each of us is Matthias, the one selected, even when we may believe we are Joseph Barsabbas, the one not chosen. For even when we are not chosen in this world for honors, each of us is selected for a place in the kingdom.

We tend to dwell on our failures in this world, to remember the times we have not been chosen. But consider now those times when you know the Father, Son and Holy Spirit have been with you, when you felt their presence and knew they had gifted you. Rather than dwell on our failures, we must live in our success, our sure knowledge God has chosen each one of us. In the words of the second reading from the Letter of John: “God dwells in us … and we live in him.”

I really do believe Joseph Barsabbas accepted the selection of Matthias as the Twelfth Apostle and was content to remain as one of the many followers of Christ. For this reason, the true, final question is: knowing that we are not always number one in this world, can we be content knowing we have been chosen for the kingdom?

^{Seventh Sunday of Easter; May 19, 1985
Acts 1:15-17, 20a, 20c-26; 1 Jn 4:11-16; Jn 17:11b-19}

Today’s question has two parts. To answer the first part, you might need to be of a certain minimal age, but what that age should be, I won’t say. Anyway, the question is this: how many of you have ever made a “Novena?” The second part should be a lot easier for many of you. How many of you know what a “novena” is? Well, that tells me how many of you have been reading the Christ the Good Shepherd Bulletin for the last three weeks. Each issue has had an insert about the novena now being held here every night at 7 o’clock.

A novena is a nine-day period for a devotional practice. It can be nine days taken together for prayer and meditation, or it can be nine days over an extended period of time. Going to church on the first Friday of nine consecutive months was once a very popular devotional practice.

Now, if you’ve been reading our Sunday Bulletin, you should know what the source of this nine-day period is. You should recall that the original novena is the nine-day interval between the Ascension, which we celebrated last Thursday, and Pentecost, which we’ll celebrate next Sunday. It’s the nine days when the disciples waited for the coming of the Holy Spirit.

In today’s first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we learn of one major event that occurred during this original novena: the selection of Matthias to replace Judas Iscariot and return the number of disciples to Twelve. We heard how the 120 followers of Christ selected two of them, Joseph Barsabbas, also called, the Just, and Matthias, and after praying over them, allowed God to choose which one would be counted among the Twelve Apostles.

The followers of Jesus recognized they were in a time of transition. Their Lord had physically left them. He had promised to send them another Paraclete, a counselor, a companion, who would be sent by the Father. They hoped, also, for the return of Jesus, himself, for his Second Coming. They wanted to be prepared for his return. We, too, now exist in a similar transition. We are between the celebration of the Ascension and of Pentecost. We, too, are between the First Coming of Jesus the Christ and his Second Coming. At the same time, we are between many other transitions in our own lives, for after all, a transition is that period between any two events.

With the approach of spring, many look forward to graduation from high school or college, and the beginning of a new life. Others look forward to a spring or summer wedding and the transition from a single life to one united with a beloved spouse. Some await moves to new locations, new homes, new jobs. Still others expect new births, while some anticipate deaths of loved ones. All of us experience, in one way or another, the process of merely getting older, and a few, the hope of getting wiser. Each one of us is in a transition: somewhere between the known past and the unknown future.

And so the real question is: what should we be doing here and now in our “novena,” our nine days of waiting? How do we cope with our transitions? Perhaps, one way would be to recognize that this weekend we celebrate Mothers’ Day, and to take a closer look at two aspects of being a mother.

Of course there are many ways to look at motherhood. I’m going to limit myself to two characteristics I came across in a recent issue of the Jesuit magazine, America. The April 26th issue of America has an article written by Carole Garibaldi Rogers. She’s a freelance journalist who has also written a recent book entitled: Poverty, Chastity and Change: Lives of Contemporary American Nuns.

In her article in America, she reports on interviews with several nuns who are also mothers. Just like Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton, who was a mother before she founded the Sisters of Charity, these women had raised their own families before joining a religious community. In her article, Carole Rogers stresses two characteristics of these women who are biological mothers and religious sisters. She quotes one of the women, Patricia Galli, as saying: “What I’ve learned about parenting, especially about being a mother, is that your role from the time they’re born is to let them go.” The author also wrote about another woman, Marion Farrell, who “…spoke often about persevering.”

When I read this article, it reminded me that these two characteristics of motherhood, “letting go” and “persevering,” are also characteristics of the disciples of Jesus some two thousand years ago. They are, also, two of the major graces each one of us needs during our own times of transition.

The disciples were called upon to let go of the risen Christ, physically, and, yet, to persevere in their belief in his presence with them. We, too, are asked with each transition, to let go of things, of events, and of people, who bind us to the past and prevent our going on to the future. And we, too, are encouraged to persevere, which does not mean holding on to the past with both hands, but rather, to tough it out in the present and move towards new hope for the future. We are called towards “letting go” and towards “persevering,”

And what gives us the ability to let go and to persevere? An answer may be found in the other readings we heard today. In our gospel reading, we heard Jesus speak about how he, himself, had guarded and kept watch over his friends. And now, when he must let go of them, and they must let go of him, he asks his Father to guard them from evil. He does not ask his Father to remove them from this world in order to protect them, but rather, to make them holy and send them out into the world. Jesus prays for the consecration of his friends and for our consecration, our being made holy, so we, too, can let go and be sent forth into the world.

In our second reading from John’s letter to his friends, we, also, hear how this consecration, this letting go and this sending forth, is accomplished. We hear, once more, how: “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God and God in them.” To abide is to live in, to reside in, to rest in, to take comfort in. Just as we “abide: in our home, our place of refuge and of nurturing, we are to “abide” in God and God is to “abide” in us. We are to rest in the arms of God, just as in the arms of our mother. And just as we embrace our own mother in our arms, we are to hold God tightly in our own arms. It is in this act of abiding in one another, us in God and God in us, that we gain the courage to let go and to persevere, not only in the nine days of our novena but in each and every day of the life we share with God and with one another.

^{Seventh Sunday of Easter; May 12, 1997 (Mother’s Day)
Acts: 1:15 -17, 20a, 209c-26; 1 Jn 4:11-16; Jn 17:11b-19}

Today’s questions are about holidays and holiday greetings. I’d like you to fill-in the blank. If I say “‘Blank’ Christmas,” what would be your greeting? “Merry Christmas” wins. How about “Easter?” “Happy Easter” is the usual winner for that one. And what about “Pentecost?” OK, I expected a lot of silence on that one. With maybe a few “Joyous Pentecost!”

Now some of you may say my question is unfair. Pentecost is not really a holiday. For Christmas, you buy presents and decorate pine trees. For Easter, you buy new clothes and decorate eggs. But there’s nothing to buy for Pentecost, let alone anything to decorate. Pentecost can’t really be a holiday. It hasn’t gone commercial enough. Why even Halloween and Valentine’s Day sell as much candy as either Christmas or Easter. Halloween has costumes and decorations as well, almost as many as Christmas. And people buy Valentine’s cards, too. But when did you ever see a “Hallmark moment” for Pentecost? Yes, Pentecost is our forgotten holiday. Our forgotten Holy Day, which is – after all – what was originally meant by Holiday: a “Holy” Day for remembering God. Christmas, Easter, Pentecost. Our Trinitarian Holy Days.

Christmas: the celebration of God’s gift to mankind. The celebration of God-the-Father giving God-the-Son to us, giving us the means of our salvation. The celebration of the wood of the crib and the baby it held.

Easter: the celebration of God’s second gift to mankind. The celebration of God-the-Son giving his life to God-the-Father, giving us the forgiveness for our salvation. The celebration of the wood of the cross and the man it held.

Pentecost: the celebration of God’s third gift to mankind. The celebration of God-the-Father and God-the-Son giving their love to one another and to us. Giving us our reunion with them, our salvation. The celebration of the wood of the now unlocked door and the spirit of the one who comes to us through it.

The celebration of Pentecost is, in fact, one of the most ancient of our Holy Days. It was celebrated by the Jews, themselves, as a major feast day. It was the 50th day after Passover. It commemorated the giving of the Law of Moses to the people. The Law of Moses, the Torah, the most sacred gift of Yahweh to his people. It was for this reason Jerusalem was crowded with Jews from all parts of the Mediterranean world. They had returned for the early summer harvest festival to celebrate Torah, the Word of God among them.

On our first Pentecost, the disciples gathered in the Upper Room where they had consumed the bread of the Last Supper with their Lord and Master. When suddenly they, themselves, were consumed by the rush of the wind and the fire of the Holy Spirit. Consumed by the passionate love sent forth by God-the-Father and God-the-Son. They received the gifts of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, who would speak with them and through them. They rushed forth as if drunk on new wine to proclaim the truths bursting within them.

The crowds of gathered Jews were confused when they heard the disciples, men who had been fishermen, common men. Women, too, who had followed quietly in the footsteps of a man who had died a terrible death, women who said he had risen from the tomb. Those crowds heard the triple proclamation of the disciples:
● he is not dead.
● he has physically risen:
● he has returned to Heaven to sit at the right hand of his Father.
Yet, his presence was still part of them. The Holy Spirit is now with them.

So why is it that we, some twenty-one centuries later, fail to celebrate this fact? We actively celebrate his birth: God’s incarnation among us. We actively celebrate his suffering, death and resurrection: God’s Paschal Mystery for us. Why, then, do we not celebrate with equal joy, his on-going presence among us, the presence of the Holy Spirit of God?

We vaguely acknowledge his presence when we attend a Baptism. We may even recognize his active participation at Confirmations. A few may realize we call for his presence during the consecration of the bread and wine at each and every Eucharist.
Yes, we are told the Holy Spirit is present and active in each and every Sacrament we receive. But then what? Do we really act as if the Holy Spirit is here among us right now? Do we not know:
● In a few moments the Holy Spirit as well as the real body and blood of Christ will be within us in a very special way.
● The Holy Spirit will remain with us when we leave this sanctuary, this holy place.
● The Holy Spirit makes each one of us a sanctuary, a holy place, a holy person.
Did we not hear, a moment ago, Paul’s words to the Corinthians: “There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone.”

Yes, the Holy Spirit remains with each one of us: to comfort us, to counsel us, to protect us, to guide us, to empower us with the very life and love of God. Let us go forth as did his followers two thousand years ago. Let us go among those who have not yet heard the proclamation, or having heard it, fail to live up to its words.

Let us not depend upon commercialization in order to celebrate the Feast of Pentecost. We do not need to buy mere things and display external decorations in order to define our Holy Days, the days of being holy for our own sake and for the sake of others. We, who have been gifted with the sacraments of the Holy Spirit, have the daily opportunity to share these gifts with others.

One month from now we will be celebrating our national Holiday, Independence Day, with parades and fireworks. But today, let us light up the night sky with explosions of the fireworks of our own passionate love of God and of all his children. Let us, indeed, be a light in the darkness. Let us celebrate the work of the Holy Spirit among us. Let us be not only the body and blood of Christ but let us be animated by the love of the Holy Spirit. Yes, let us continue to wish one another a “Merry Christmas” and a “Happy Easter.” But today, let us wish one another a “Joyous Pentecost.” Alleluia! Praise God with shouts of Joy. Alleluia! Alleluia!

^{Pentecost; June 4, 2005
Acts 2:1-11; 1 Cor 12:3-7, 12-13; Jn 20:19-23}

You’ve just heard the three readings usually proclaimed each year on the Feast of Pentecost. So the question for today, Pentecost Sunday, should be a very easy one for you. It’s this: what does Pentecost mean to you? But there’s a twist to what I would like to have you do. I’d like you to turn to someone near you and exchange answers. I’d prefer if you speak to someone who did not come with you to church today, but to someone else. And I’d like everyone to do it; kids too. Again, the question is: what does Pentecost mean to you? (Go down into the congregation and participate.)

So what about your answers? A lot of you might have said something about Pentecost being the time when the Holy Spirit came down on the disciples as tongues of fire and how, filled with the Holy Spirit, the disciples went out to preach about Jesus to the Jews. And some might have mentioned how his disciples spoke in different languages so that everyone could understand what they were saying. You might also have said Pentecost is called the “Birthday of the Church”. A few might have recalled Pentecost is fifty days after Easter and marks the end of the Easter season.

They’re all good answers. And the reason I wanted you to share them, out-loud, with one another, was to give us a sense of the noise and excitement of that morning some 2000 years ago. However, the only problem is – all of these answers focus on what happened back then, some 2000 years ago. But the real question should be: what does Pentecost mean to us today? How should we experience Pentecost, today?

Of course it’s OK to look at the historical Pentecost: the one we heard about in our first reading from Luke’s Acts of the Apostles. After-all, Pentecost is an historical event. The Jews called it “Pentecost” too, but they meant something different. “Pentecost” means fifty.

For the Jews gathered in Jerusalem that morning, it was fifty days after Passover. They had gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate two events.
● First of all, they celebrated the giving of Torah, the giving of the Law of the Lord God to Moses and to the Hebrew people; and thus, they celebrated the “Birthday of Israel.”
● And secondly, they celebrated the Spring Harvest.
This is why so many Jews, Jews from all over the known Mediterranean world, were gathered in Jerusalem that morning. It was a combination of the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving Day. That Pentecost morning, the followers of Jesus had gathered together to celebrate these two sacred events. They, also, might have gathered together for mutual protection against the crowds. Jesus was no longer with them. They had seen him ascend to his Father and the chances are they were feeling deserted and isolated.

But then, something happened that changed the course of the entire world. “And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which they were. Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire, which parted and came to rest on each of them.” Wind and fire signify holy things. They also signify great change. After a driving windstorm or tornado, nothing is the same as it was before. After a sweeping fire, everything touched by the flames has been changed.

This is what Luke, the writer of the book of the Acts of Apostles, is trying to tell us. Something strange and wonderful happened to those men and women gathered together. Something which changed them from simple people to those who were suddenly impelled to go out into the crowded, hostile streets of Jerusalem and, with great joy, to proclaim the Good News to everyone.

Have you ever wondered what would have happened if that Pentecost for the first followers of Christ had been a one-shot event? What if, after being filled by the Spirit, Peter and his brother Andrew had gone back to being fishermen, along with James and John? What if Mary and Martha returned to take care of their brother, and the other Mary had returned to her home town of Magdala? Where would we be today?

For one thing, it’s unlikely any of us would be Christians. Instead of being here in a community called Christ the Good Shepherd, many of us would probably be worshiping Zeus or Apollo! But instead, Peter and Andrew, and Mary Magdalene and all of the other men and women who had followed and loved Jesus, all of them cooperated with the Holy Spirit and began to change the world. They did not return to the quiet, village life they once had. Although they could have taken the peace of Christ with them and returned home, they, instead, cooperated with the Holy Spirit to proclaim with their voices and their lives the Good News.

Why do I say that these people, filled by the Spirit, “cooperated” with the Holy Spirit in order to begin to change the world? Wasn’t it enough only to have the Spirit inside of them? What’s this deal about “cooperating” with the Holy Spirit? Well, I think this “cooperation” might explain what happened to those first followers on that Pentecost morning; and what has, or has not, happened to us, his followers, on this Feast of Pentecost in 2009.

Is it not true each one of us who, having been baptized into the Christian faith, has received the Holy Spirit? Isn’t it, also, true for all of us who have received the sacrament of Confirmation? Or is there more than one Holy Spirit? Is there a special “Holy Spirit” who came on Pentecost morning two-thousand years ago and a different one who comes to us at Baptism and Confirmation?

As far as I know, there is only one Holy Spirit. The one who strengthened those men and women two-thousand years ago is the same Holy Spirit found inside of you and me. St Paul said it in our Second Reading for today: “There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone. To each individual the manifestation of the Spirit is given for some benefit.”

So what happened? Why don’t we seem to have the joy and excitement which prompted those first followers of Christ to go out and witness the good news? Because you see, this too, is what the feast of Pentecost is all about. If Pentecost is the annual celebration of the birthday of those who gather in the name of Christ, those who are the body of Christ, where is the joy and excitement of this celebration today?

Why is it OK to be excited at an Astros or Rockets game, but not when we come to church? Why can we be enthusiastic about jogging for personal fitness but not about praying for spiritual fitness? Who says we must be quiet and reserved when we worship God or when we pray to God?

Do I fear that others might think I’m a little weird if I sing or respond in a loud voice during Mass? Will someone think I’m not being religious enough if I smile? Do I need to be reminded that, when the followers of Christ went out to preach on that Pentecost morning, some of the Jews visiting Jerusalem thought the disciples were drunk from too much new wine? Peter, himself, had to say they weren’t drunk; after-all, it was only 9 o’clock in the morning!

Perhaps, we need to be reminded Christians are an “Alleluia” people. And the translation for that Hebrew word is: “Praise God with shouts of joy”. I don’t know how many of you are aware of American Sign Language for “Alleluia” but it’s this … (do it!) … and what do you think it comes from?

Waving sparklers! What is more exciting and joy-filled than waving sparklers on the Fourth of July?! I think it’s a magnificent sign for the excitement of being filled by the Holy Spirit and showing we mean it. And, yes – being filled by the Holy Spirit is more than just how we celebrate at Mass. It really means how we celebrate all of Life.

Some of us seem to go through life as sleepwalkers; our arms stuck out in front of us so we don’t come in contact with anything unexpected. Some who are called Christians, go around with a constant frown or a sad look. They speak with groans, gripes and grouchiness. Yet there are others who follow what was proclaimed in today’s Gospel: “Jesus came and stood before them. ‘Peace be with you’, he said. … at the sight of the Lord, the disciples rejoiced.” These Christians realize the peace of Christ means rejoicing, being filled with joy, not filled with a numbing anesthetic.

These Catholics know what it means when the Gospel, the Good News, continues with the message: “Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’”

Jesus the Christ has given us both his peace and the Holy Spirit. He has sent us out to announce the Good News. And to live the good news: the Kingdom of God is now. This is a message that deserves fire works and celebration.

As the season of Easter draws to an end, we are once more reminded we are called to be a Resurrection People, an Alleluia People. And so, the final question for each of us to consider is not, “What does Pentecost mean historically?” – but rather – how can each of us cooperate with the power and joy of the Holy Spirit within us so we can truly be among those whose lives “praise God with shouts of joy” “Alleluia”

^{Pentecost; May 31, 2009 (Also: 5/5/91, Cycle B); 5/30/04, Cycle C)
Acts 2:1-11; 1 Cor 12:3-7, 12-13; Jn 20:19-23}

Moses, in our first reading for this evening, asked a question that is relevant for us, too. He asked the Israelites whether there were any wonders of the past which were greater than what they were witnessing that day. If we stop to reflect on such a question, we’re likely to think about our modern technology and say the wonders of 1987 are greater than at any time before now. Yet, there is another wonder, an event we all will witness in a few moments that is greater than any of the technological wonders of our lifetime.

In a few minutes we will be present when the Holy Spirit comes in a very special way to three youngsters of our community. An event like this has occurred many times before and will continue to be celebrated until the Second Coming of Christ. But sometimes, we fail to recognize just what a wonder, what a miracle, Baptism really is.

Four times a year¹, here at Christ the Good Shepherd, we celebrate the sacrament of Baptism within the context of the sacrament of Eucharist. This provides us with an opportunity to recall, as vividly as possible, just how important this sacrament is to each of us who has been baptized into the Christian faith.

When Moses presented Yahweh’s commandments to the Israelites, he reminded them that these statutes and commandments must be kept forever. And in our gospel reading, we hear Jesus say something very similar: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Teach them to carry out everything I have commanded you. And know that I am with you always, until the end of the world.”

Most of us were baptized at a very young age. Certain promises were made on our behalf by our parents and godparents. Throughout the year, we are asked to renew these promises on our own behalf, now that we are adults and know the importance of these promises. We are asked to reject sin and to accept Jesus, the Christ, as our Lord.

For the last three years, I’ve had the privilege of working with adults preparing for baptism and of being there in the pool with them at the moment of baptism². These moments when the Holy Spirit comes to them in a very special way, have been among the greatest moments of my life. I receive a great gift each time I baptise either an infant or an adult, but adult baptisms are truly magnificent gifts.

There are some who belive we should baptise only adults and not children. They say we should wait until a person can make his or her own promises. While there is much to be said for such a view, it is equally true to recognize the love these parents show here today by desiring to have their own young ones baptised now. Each of them wants their child to be strengthened by the Holy Spirit as soon as possible and, in a few years, be able to come with them to receive the Lord in a special way at Eucharist. Many times we forget, or take for granted, the power that comes from our Baptism. The power whereby we become children of God. The power whereby each of us is anointed as priest, prophet and king.

The sacrament of Baptism uses many symbols to remind us of what occurs at our baptism. We use water to remind us we have been washed free of sin, we are cleansed and reborn in Christ. We are anointed with oil just like ancient kings and prophets were anointed with oil, just as the hands of a priest are still anointed with oil at his ordination. Baptism, itself, makes each one of us sharers of a common priesthood in the kingdom of God. Light too, is a powerful symbol. And later on in the service of Baptism, the godparents for these three children will receive a candle which has been lite from the Easter candle. They will be reminded they are to receive the Light of Christ on behalf of these children. We urge that this candle be used on special days, like birthdays or the anniversary of this Baptism. And many years from now, after they have lived a rich and full life, this candle will be burned for the last time on the day of their death, when they return home to the father.

In the church year, this Sunday after Pentecost is celebrated as Trinity Sunday, the day when we acknowledge our God as one God in three divine Persons. It is, indeed, a fitting day for this celebration of Baptism, when each child is made part of the kingdom in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Yet, each day, when we make the sign of the cross, we are called to remember the baptismal promises made for us and which we are called to renew each time we repeat those sacred words: “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.”

As we continue this Eucharist celebration and when, within this mass, we participate in the sacrament of Baptism, let us really call to mind the gifts of our Trinitarian God. Let us remember that each of us, by our Baptism of flowing water, has been called to be Christ-like. We have been called to be Christians in a special moment that brings into our life the Holy Spirit and all of the many gifts given to us, the children of God.

^{Trinity Sunday; June 13, 1987 {Although June 1987 normally uses the cycle C readings, those for cycle B were used because of these baptisms during mass}.
Deut 4:32-34, 39-40; Rom 8:14-17; Mt 28:16-20}

1. T^{he quarterly celebration of Baptism within a mass occurred during the eighties when this event was a novelty. Later, baptisms were celebrated every month during the Saturday evening liturgy, except during Lent and Advent, as well as on Sunday afternoons.}
2. ^{The baptism of adults by deacons was later changed. The pastor, who later in the rites confirmed the catechumens, also baptized them. Deacons are now limited to the baptism of children.}

This is the time of year for graduations. How many of you have suffered through a commencement address during the past couple of weeks or look forward to sitting through one in the next few days? Most commencement speakers talk about new beginnings for, after all, that’s what graduation is all about: new beginnings, leaving the protection of an institution and stepping out into what is called the “cruel world”. Many of these graduation speakers remind us of the fears and doubts we all have as we begin this new life.

Today is Trinity Sunday, the feast day when we recall that our God is one God in three Persons. The readings today, however, seem to fit into this time of celebrating new beginnings, a time that has its fears and doubts about the future. Our gospel reading today begins by setting the scene for us. We recall the last moments the disciples were to be with Jesus. He had summoned them to a mountain side in Galilee, a place where he had spent many happy hours with them. Where he had told them how much they were loved by Abba. Perhaps, they were, nevertheless, filled with fear and doubts about what would happen next. What would become of them, once their Lord and Master, their Teacher and Friend had left them? They were about to hear a commencement address. Would it be like the commencement address which Moses gave to the Israelites long ago?

Moses had gathered the people together, the ones who had been with him on the journey to the land promised to them by God. There on that mountain, he reminded them of everything Yahweh had done for them. How the Lord God had spoken to them and had led them with a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. And now, as they were about to enter the promised land, how the Lord God wanted them to follow the commandments he had given them. And if they followed his statutes, they would be his children forever. Surely those Israelites were filled with fear and doubts about taking their first steps into the new land. Perhaps, some also recognized Moses would no longer be with them. What would become of them? Would God really continue to be with them?

Now, let’s return to those eleven disciples there on the mountain side with Jesus. Perhaps, they recalled those days of Moses and of God’s promise to be with his people always. But now, here on the mountain in Galilee, what would happen? How would he remain with them forever? They had their doubts. And some of those with doubts fell down in homage before Jesus. Perhaps, this action, this humbling, would change Jesus’ mind. Maybe, he would stay with them a while longer.

But this Lord and Master did not want homage. Had he not told them that they were no longer his servants. Now he called them “friends.” In your mind’s eye, can you see him gently lifting up Peter and John, Andrew and James, and the others? Can you see him put his arms around them and hear him deliver his commencement address to them: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Baptize them in the name ‘of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.’ Teach them to carry out everything I have commanded you. And know that I am with you always, until the end of the world.”

Jesus in his graduation address did not spend time on nostalgia. He did not talk about all they had already accomplished. Instead, he spoke of the future. He told them what he wanted them to do. And through them, perhaps he also tells us what he wants us to do. Just what did he say to his friends? What does he say to us?

To his disciples, he said: “Go.” do not stand here on this mountain. Do not remain wedded to the past, go forth from here. And to us, he says the same thing: “Go.” Do not remain where you are in your life, in your doubts and fears. Go forth to the new things to which I call you. And what are these new things to which you are called?

To his disciples, he said: “Make disciples of all the nations.” He told his friends to go forth and make new friends, new followers. And who were to be these new disciples? People from all nations. Not just other Jews but everyone they met. And what does he say to us: Go out to everyone you meet. Not just those who have been your friends in the past. Not just those with whom you feel comfortable. Not just those whom you’ve trusted in the past. Rather, go out to those who are difficult to know. To the poor and to the rich. To those who speak a different tongue; those who have a different skin.

And what are you to do when you meet these new disciples, these new friends? To his disciples, he said: “baptize them.” To some that may seem very limited. Was he asking his followers merely to pour water on the heads of those they met and automatically make them his followers? I don’t think so.

For a moment we need to recall just what it means to be baptized. Here on this Trinity Sunday, when we recall how we have been baptized in the “name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” we need to remember what baptism demands of us. Our baptism, we are told, makes us “priest, prophet, and king.” Just what does this mean? What is it to be a “priest”, a “prophet”, a “king”?

A priest is a person who is truly aware of the presence of God. Who feels the presence of the divine. Someone who is truly holy, not in some super-pious way, but one who knows God is present in everything and everyone. This is what our baptism calls us to be: a person who treats everyone with the understanding that God is present in everyone they meet.

And who is a prophet? A prophet is one who speaks out for God, who speaks out for truth and justice no matter what the consequences might be. A prophet is one who takes risks on behalf of God. So yes, through our baptism, each one of us is called to be a risk-taker on behalf of God.

And what about a king? How am I called to be a king? The problem is that, in today’s world, we see very few kings as role models. But recall, for a moment, just what a storybook king was suppose to be. A king is not merely a person who leads others. A king, or a queen, is not a ruler so much as being a protector. Royalty was called upon to protect the weak, to help the poor, to come to the defense of those in harm’s way. Over the years, real-life kings and queens seem to have forgotten this. Nevertheless, this is what our own baptism calls us to do: to protect the weak, to help the poor.

This then, is what Jesus asked of his followers, his friends: to go forth, to make new disciples, new friends of all they met, and to be a priest, prophet and king to them. And he said two other things in his commencement address: he said to them: “teach others to carry out everything I have commanded you.” He did not say: “teach only what the people want to hear.” He, also, did not say: “teach what you think I said; it’s ok to interpret my words the way you want.” No, he told his disciples, and he reminds us, we must know everything he taught, how it all fits together, not picking and choosing what sounds comfortable, but teaching everything.

And finally he told his disciples: “and know that I am with you always, until the end of the world.” What does that really mean? His disciples saw him leave, never to return to their sight. How could he still be with them? Maybe St Paul’s words from his letter to the Romans can give us a clue. Paul reminds us how each one of us is now entitled to cry out “Abba,” how each one of us is a child of God.

What is it to be a child of God? A child, a true child, is one who does not fear. A true child knows no matter what goes wrong, mommy or daddy will fix it. Reflect for a moment on the child who hurts a knee and goes running to mommy or daddy. The child who is held tightly on a lap and told: “it’s OK, mommy will kiss it and make it better.” We all know the bruise is still there. It still may need a bandage to stop the bleeding. Yet, in some way, in some mysterious way, the kiss does make it better. The child goes running off, cured of the hurt.

Parents sometimes wonder: when will the magic end? When will I no longer be able to cure my child with a kiss. The answer is: it will never end. It is still possible to cure a hurt with a kiss, with a hug, because the real cure is not the kiss or the hug; rather, it is the love that is there. Sometimes as adults, as big children, we have our own hurts, our own fears, our own doubts. And that too, is the time when we can run to Abba, to daddy. The bruise may still remain, the event that led us to go to Abba can still be there, unchanged. Yet, in some way, the hurt is gone.

And that is what Jesus tells us today. I may seem to be gone from you. The doubts may remain with you. The pain may be there with you. Yet, somehow, in some way, the deeper hurt will not be there. In some way, I will still be with you, my Father and your Father will still be here with you, our love will remain with you. No matter what happens, no matter that I seem to leave you alone on your mountain: “know that I am with you always, until the end of the world.”

^{Trinity Sunday; May 29, 1988 (Memorial Day Weekend)
Deut 4:32-34, 39-40; Rom 8:14-17; Mt 28:16-20}

Today, we celebrate two occasions, two holidays. On the one hand, there is what some cynics might call a “commercial holiday,” the one known as “Fathers’ Day,” a day to buy dad another tie he won’t wear more than once, or another bottle of after-shave lotion he won’t use, even once.

Today, we also celebrate a liturgical holiday, a “feast day,” the feast day known as “Trinity Sunday.” Cynics, also, have a negative view of this theologically oriented feast day. They say no one can really understand, or even appreciate, what we mean by the Trinity, other than saying it’s a “mystery” and letting it go at that. So why even bother to celebrate “Trinity Sunday?”

This leads me, of course, to my question for today. You were wondering, weren’t you, when will I get around to my question? OK. Here it is. But actually, it’s several questions. And you need not answer out loud. First of all, how do you celebrate “Fathers’ Day?” And secondly, why celebrate Fathers’ Day at all? And finally, how does Fathers’ Day relate to the Trinity and our celebration of Trinity Sunday?

There are many ways to celebrate Fathers’ Day. A lot depends on how you view your own father, and how your father views you. If you don’t get along with him, the chances are, you’re not going to celebrate the day. And if your father is not around, the celebration may have to be confined to a telephone call or a short prayer to God on your dad’s behalf. If you’re a young kid, you might make a special card for him. Or you might go play catch in the yard or do something for him you think he will really like.

As for me, for the last few years, my grown sons have taken me out for buffalo wings and beer. Now, I have to admit: buffalo wings and beer are not really my all-time favorites. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy them, but they would not necessarily be on my life-time, top-ten list. So why do I do it? Why, indeed, do a lot of other dads smile with great appreciation when they receive a yellow tie with purple Barneys¹ dancing across it; or another bottle of Old Spice?

We do it because of something called “male bonding.” Male bonding – that’s the name of the relationship fathers and sons desire. For dads and daughters, it’s OK to call it “love” or “affection.” But for men, it’s known as “male bonding,” even though it really is love. Love, after all, is another name for “bonding.” Love is joining people together in a special, permanent, un-breakable union. We sometimes speak of the special “bond” between a parent and a child, yet, we also call it “parental love.” We are, also, aware, especially in this month of June, of the “bond of matrimony,” the special union between husband and wife that makes “two into one flesh.” In all of these unions – between husband and wife, between parent and child – in these new unions, the two human beings continue to exist, but now there is something greater than what was there when they existed alone. This new “something” is now called “love,” thid new something is now a “bond.”

In this bonded-union, each person still exists. There is still an “I” and a “Thou.” There is still a “Me” and a “You.” But in this bonded-union, there is no longer a “mine” and a “yours.” In their marriage vows, the husband and wife pledge themselves to one another: “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” In a good marriage, the “mine” and the “yours” become “ours” – a spiritual “oneness.” And in a family, as a result of the bond between parent and child, what the parent possesses, the child is heir to. What the parent has, the child will receive. And be assured, whatever the child has, the parent will also get, including every germ found in kindergarten.

This relationship, this bonding, this love is what we mean when we speak of family “ties,” of family bonds. A family exists whenever two people join together in a special way, in a bond where they continue as “me” and as “you,” but no longer as “mine” and as “yours.”

And that is what some theologians say about the Trinity, about our one God who exists as three Persons: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. These scholars point out the Father remains the “father;” the Son remains the “son;” and the Holy Spirit remains the holy spirit. At the same time, there is a bonding – a particular love that unites them in a special way.

To quote one of those theologians, Father Walter J. Burghardt of Georgetown University: “What makes God God – we call it the divine nature – [what makes God God] … the Father has it completely, the Son has it completely, the Spirit has it completely. No one has anything the other does not have. The Father gives to the Son literally all that he himself has, all that makes him God, all that makes him love. And the Son is the perfect son, because he is the perfect image of his father.” Burghardt goes on to say: “The incredible thing is that the love with which the Son loves the Father is the selfsame infinite love with which the Father loves the Son. And this love of Father and Son, this love is the Holy Spirit.”

And so, the bonding of the Father and the Son is the Holy Spirit. The love of the Father and of the Son is the Holy Spirit – the Holy Spirit who is sent to us, shared with us. Saint Paul speaks of this sharing in his Letter to the Romans we heard a few minutes ago, when he wrote: “…you received a spirit of adoption through whom we cry, ‘Abba, father!’ The spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ …”

“Heirs with Christ.” We have been told, once again, we are brothers and sisters of Christ, we are, indeed, the children of God, we are bonded members of the family of God. But we are not to be an exclusive family, not a limited family, not if we heard and follow the instructions given to us in our gospel reading, when Jesus, in the words of the community of Matthew, said: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

Go: Make disciples. Go: Gather more friends, more heirs of the kingdom, other brothers and sisters. Join them together in the perfect union of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Do this, not only by baptism, not only by the pouring on of water, but by teaching them to do what I have commanded – by loving one another, by feeding the poor, by helping those in need, by knowing that in all you do for them, you do for me; and realizing: “I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

And, so, now is the time to celebrate the day when we call God, Abba, to celebrate that we are the one family of God bonded together with love. Today, is the day to celebrate not merely a commercialized Fathers’ Day, but rather, to celebrate the day of Abba, the day of Trinity when there is no longer “mine” and “yours,” but instead the day when there is only “our Father” and our enduring love for one another, for all of “us” joined together through (†) Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

^{Trinity Sunday, June 18, 2000
Deut 4:32-34, 39-40; Rom 8:14-17; Mt 28:16-20}

1. Barney was, and for some, still is a purple, dancing and singing children’s creature roughly looking like a dinosaur.

I have several short questions for you today. They all involve sports. My first question is …
● how many players are there on a football team? (11)
● How many players on a baseball team? (9)
● How many players on a basketball team? (5)
Eleven, nine, five: all odd numbers. So, this one should be easy.
● How many players in a Trinity?

No, three is not right. The correct answer is, of course: one. Our Trinitarian God does not consist of three “players.” There is only one God, not three. God is God: God is not a team. However, if you want to use the concept of “team” as an analogy for God, then you’d need to think of a perfect team with three perfect players. Three players who could play every position perfectly, who play so well you can’t tell the difference among them.

This is what our theology says about the Trinity: about the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. There is no difference among them. There is an ancient Christian creed, it’s called the Athanasian creed, that makes a big point of this fact. This creed contains such statements as: “ … the divine nature of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit is one, their glory is equal, their majesty is coeternal.” And it goes on to state: “… both Trinity in Unity and Unity in Trinity must be venerated.”

This is, indeed, a difficult concept for us humans to grasp, let alone, understand. It’s been a major point of difficulty between Christians and Jews (and Muslims) for centuries. It has led to accusations by Jews and Muslims that we Christians worship three gods, whereas they worship only one God.

This basic teaching that there is only one God comes from scriptural passages such as the one we heard in the first reading for today, from the book of Deuteronomy. “… [because of the signs and wonders … because of the deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt] …. this is why you must now know, and fix in your heart, that the Lord is God in the heavens above and on earth below, and that there is no other.”

So, how do we reconcile this one God with our Triune God, our one God with three divine Persons? One approach might be through a consideration of the secular holidays we’re celebrating this weekend. This weekend we honor fathers, those men to whom we owe our life and our protection during the years of our childhood. Today, we might, also, recall such statements as:
● “like father, like son”
● “he’s a chip off the old block”

Jesus acknowledged these relationships as well. He told his friends they had seen the father because they have seen him. They knew the father through their observations of Jesus, his son. It is this kind of relationship we are called to consider in our modern world – as fathers serve as models for their children, and children represent the best aspects of their parents.

Paul, in his Letter to the Hebrews we heard a few minutes ago, speaks of a similar relationship when he says: “… you received a spirit of adoption, through whom we cry, ‘Abba, father!’ The spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ …”

The fact that our God is a Triune God is not a conclusion we could reach by our own thought process. This knowledge comes to us through the revealed word of God, speaking through his Son, Jesus the Christ. It is on the promise of Christ that our belief is based. Jesus made a fundamental promise to his disciples, and to us. He said: “… I am with you always, until the end of the age.” He promised his friends, and us, he would remain with us until the end of the world as we know it. Either he lied to them, and to us, or he has kept his promise.

We believe he did not lie, he, indeed, kept his promise. We believe that upon his bodily return to the Father, they sent to us the Holy Spirit who remains with us today, at this very moment, who guides us and sustains us with every breath we take. We speak of our one God in terms of three Persons, three “perfect players,” if you will.
● We speak of the God who is the creator. The one who created everything in the universe and who continues to create all that exists.
● We speak of the God who became incarnated, who took on human flesh in order to redeem us, in order for us to be reunited with our Creator-God.
● We speak of the God who remains with us, the Holy Spirit who sustains us, guides us, the spirit of God living within us.

We speak of our triune God who is creator, redeemer and sustainer. All of this can become mere words, and, perhaps, words which really do not strike us, change us, as they might. It’s because of such difficulties that we Christians, especially Catholic Christians, make use of symbols and symbolic actions to help us understand deeper realities.

Symbols and symbolic actions are not restricted to our attempts to understand God. I’m especially reminded of this as we celebrate another secular holiday this weekend, as we celebrate “Flag Day.” Our flag is, indeed, a symbol of our nation, our flag is a “trinity” of red, white, and blue. Take away any one of these colors and we would no longer have the flag of the United States of America. Its thirteen stripes and fifty stars are a symbol of our foundation from thirteen independent colonies into one nation, a nation in which most citizens do not react kindly when someone attempts to mock or burn a flag which is more than a mere piece of cloth.

As Christians, especially as Catholic Christians, we also make use of other symbols and symbolic actions, ones that should lead to a deeper and continuing appreciation for our Triune God. A major sign, of course, is the Sign of the Cross, a symbol which goes back to the foundations of our belief in a Trinitarian God. We use the visible cross as a reminder of the Paschal mystery of our God who suffered, died, and rose again for our salvation.

Yet we also make the “sign of the cross” to remind us of our Triune God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. No matter how it is made.
● For some with all five extended fingers.
● For others, with the three lower fingers outstretched to represent the Trinity, and the thumb and forefinger touching to represent the unity of our God.
● Or it may be a hurried gesture as we touch our thumb or forefinger to our head, our heart and our shoulders.

It is a sign we make when we begin an effort and want to be reminded we do it in the name of God. It is a sign we make when there is a time of crisis (or a hope the free throw will, indeed, go through the basket) and we seek the help of God to see us through the crisis – or bring success to our efforts. It is a sign others make over us when we are taking leave and need to be reminded that God blesses our journey.

Yes, today, on Trinity Sunday, we might use all sorts of words, inadequate words, to explain what we mean when we speak of one God with three divine Persons. However, for most of us, it is more important merely to make the Sign of the Cross (†) and know that our Lord, our God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – will be with us always, until the end of the age.

^{Trinity Sunday; June 15, 2003: (Fathers’ Day and Flag Day)
Deut 4:32-34, 39-40; Rom 8:14-17; Mt 28:16-20}

Today’s question is for women. It’s a question about nostalgia, Christian nostalgia. And the question is this: How many of you once owned a mustard seed necklace or bracelet? Do you recall those small, hard seeds encased in those glass marbles? If you remember this bit of jewelry, only then can you appreciate the small size of a mustard seed. I mean: if I talk about mustard, most of the kids would think of that yellow stuff you put on hot-dogs and hamburgers. I assure you, if you try to plant a squirt of mustard in the ground when you get home, you will not grow a mustard tree!

No, there really are mustard seeds and they really are very tiny. I could say they are no bigger than a pin-head, but what with the scarcity of home-made clothes, perhaps, straight pins are as uncommon as mustard seeds. Anyway, believe me when I say a mustard seed is really, really small.

Believe me. Actually, this is what today’s homily is all about. Not about believing me, necessarily, but rather about your belief in God, in God’s incarnated son, in their love for one another and for us. Today’s reflection is about belief and about faith.

However, if you want a more commercial view of belief and faith, I have a special sign¹ for you today. It’s this! “Believe it” Although I might have given a homily today on the parable of how the kingdom of God is like a Rocket’s game, I’ll leave that one up to Father Brendan. Instead, I want to talk about today’s scripture readings – and especially about mustard seeds.

Mustard seeds are mentioned in the gospels of Matthew and of Luke as well as in the reading we heard, today, from Marks’s gospel. Matthew and Luke very clearly relate faith with mustard seeds, and how, even if our faith is no larger than a mustard seed, we could move mountains. (On second thought, maybe I am talking about the Rockets. After all, I am talking about “faith.”)

So what is faith? What is this power we have to move mountains? First of all, faith is not a thing. “Things” can be measured and weighed. They can be seen, felt, and sometimes heard. Recently, physical scientists have rejoiced because, with the restored Hubbel telescope, they have been able to see a so-called “black hole”. At the other end of the physical scale, other scientists have seen evidence of the final “quark,” one of the so called building blocks of matter. Now, they no longer merely believe black holes and quarks exist, now they “know” they exist. For many people, seeing is believing. For others, even this is not enough. In order to believe, they must understand every step of the process. They must answer every question about how something works in order to believe it exists.

Yet, we do not understand how the greatest power in the universe works. It cannot be weighed nor measured by any instrument we can construct. How do we know love exists between a husband and wife, love between parents and children, love between two friends, love between God and us? There is no way to measure love, not even a way to confine it. Yet, we know love exists – or when it does not exist. We, each, have faith that it exists – or a lack of faith believing it does not exist.

Faith about human love and about divine love can start out to be very small, as small as a mustard seed. However, it is a faith which can grow to an unexpected size. And in the process, it can yield shelter and safety for others, just as the mature mustard tree provides shade and shelter for the birds of the air.

Faith is knowing something completely without seeing it, without hearing it, without touching it. Faith grows even without our knowing how it grows. The ancients knew nothing about photosynthesis or plant metabolism, about how roots grow, and cells divide. However, these are topics which most school kids know more about than did the greatest sages of the time of Christ. But those ancient people did know that from the seed, comes new life. They knew good soil is essential for this new life. They knew that, with patience and tender care, the blade and the stalk produced leaves and flowers. With the warmth of the sun, the flowers produced seeds. They knew the seeds could be harvested and used for the good of humanity. Exactly how this happened, they did not know. Except to have faith that God would provide the harvest.

And so it was that Jesus described faith in the coming Kingdom of God. A seed which grows in a mysterious, unknown way and becomes a source of nourishment for all who seek to harvest it. The Kingdom of God begins in a small way, yet when mature, provides comfort to all those who seek it out.

A writer by the name of Dick Westley has made a comparison of religion and faith. He says “religion” can be described with these words: “Fear not, trust in God and He will see to it that none of the things you are afraid of will happen to you.” He then goes on to say how “faith” may be described by these words: “Fear not, the things you are afraid of are most likely going to happen to you, but they are not really the sorts of things that believers ought to be afraid of, and [they] have very little significance compared to transforming the world into the Kingdom.” So, “religion” says: fear not. God won’t let bad things happen. While “faith” says: fear not. Bad things may happen, but they’re not important in the Reign of God.

If Dick Westley’s definition of religion and faith are accepted, several consequences follow. First of all, it’s possible to have a pagan “religion.” On the other hand, there can never be a pagan “faith.” And second, it’s, also, possible to have a Christian “religion” but be devoid of Christian “faith.”

With “religion,” we attempt to force God to do our will. With “faith,” we try to do what God wills for us, knowing God, our Father, loves us and wills only the good for us no matter how the events of our life may be perceived by our human, external sight.

Some two thousand years ago, Saint Paul wrote a letter to those Christians living in Corinth. In this letter he reminded them: “We walk by faith, not by sight.” We may not, at times, recognize what surrounds us, but we know where we are heading. We may stumble and momentarily be turned aside, but we know with confidence we are heading home towards God, the Father, who will welcome us with open arms. Along the way, we are guided by the words of Jesus the Christ.

In today’s gospel reading, we were reminded how he spoke publicly to the crowds in parables, in puzzling stories filled with paradoxes. But to his friends, to his disciples, he explained these things privately. So, it is with us, who are his present-day disciples. With our ears we hear the words proclaimed about him. But in our times of prayer with him, we learn in our hearts what his love means for each one of us. It is then, in prayer with him that we, indeed, “walk by faith and not by sight.” Let us now continue our journey with Jesus the Christ as, together, we transform the world into his Kingdom.

^{Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time; June 12, 1994
Ezl 17:22-24; 2 Cor 5:6-10; Mk 4:26-34}

1 ^{The accompanying red on yellow sign I held up had these words: “Believe It” and the subtitle “Chronicle Sports.” The sign was in the Sunday newspaper in support of the (then) champions Houston Rockets.}

Over the years I’ve asked you many questions. Today’s question is about questions. It’s this: what is the shortest, yet most fundamental question, everyone asks? I think you’d agree the answer is: “Why me?” Usually, we ask it when something goes wrong. “Why me? What did I do to deserve this happening to me?” We seldom, if ever, ask the question when something good happens. I mean: do you know anyone who would ask, “Why me, Lord? Why did I win this week’s Lotto drawing?”

On the other hand, the “why me?” question was raised in our first reading from the Book of Job. Job certainly had reason to ask it. You remember the story. Job had everything a man could want in his ancient world. He had seven sons and three daughters. He thousands of sheep and camels, hundreds of oxen and donkeys. But then, for no apparent reason, it was all taken away from him. He could, with all justification, ask, “Why me, Lord?”

His friends claimed to know the answer. It was: in some secret way he had offended God. It was some secret sin of his that brought on this punishment from God. If only Job would confess his transgression, God would forgive him and all would be made right again. But Job denied he had offended God, or man, in any way. He maintained he was totally innocent of any charges which could be made against him. And his friends kept saying (sarcastically), “Oh, sure, you are.” Finally, Job said he wanted God, Himself, to tell him what he had done wrong so he could defend himself.

And in today’s first reading, God does show up to respond. I’d love to see a movie with the scene from today’s reading. The computer graphics would be spectacular. Those dark, ominous clouds gathering together in what had been a perfectly clear, blue sky. And then from those swirling clouds comes the voice of God asking, “Who shut within doors the sea …” and so on.

But here’s where I have a problem. Did God thunder his response with a mighty voice that shook the trees and trembled the rocks around Job? Or did God merely whisper his question – like the passage of the gentle breeze when He showed himself to the prophet Elijah?

I have the same problem with today’s gospel reading with its scene in which dark, swirling storm clouds and tossing waves play important parts. My problem comes because of the scene immediately before the storm. In the preceding passages, Jesus had been sitting by the sea and telling parables to the people who followed him – and explaining them to his disciples. The parables were about a sower scattering seeds, about a lamp with a visible light, about a mustard seed. Jesus had just finished his stories about the Kingdom of God and about faith, about trusting in God.

Mark’s gospel then goes on to say: “When evening had come, Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd behind, they took Jesus with them in the boat.” And so, there they were, sailing once more on the Sea of Galilee, at night. You’ll recall the Sea of Galilee is surrounded by hills, on the east side there are the Golen heights, on the west are hills that look like sleeping lions. Although the Sea of Galilee is wider, it reminds me of the Finger Lake region of Upstate New York where Karen and I lived four decades ago. I remember how there could be a clear sky one moment and then, over the crest of the hills, came a sudden wind and a heavy rainstorm.

The Sea of Galilee has the geography to produce such sudden changes like the one we heard about in our gospel reading. A calm night, lite by a half-moon and peaceful stars, suddenly blacked out by howling winds and surging seas. Many in the boat were fishermen who, no doubt, had seen their share of rough water late at night when they had gone out to cast their nets for the fish which schooled under the moon’s glow. But this night, the storm had such fury they became frightened. So frightened they dared to rouse their friend who, having spent a long day teaching them and the other followers, was now sound asleep in the boat, despite it’s pitching up and down on the ever-increasing waves.

It was then, Jesus spoke his words to the raging waters: “Peace! Shalom! Be still.” And it’s here I have my own puzzlement. Just as God spoke from the clouds in his response to Job, did Jesus thunder his command to the storm or did he merely need to whisper his words, “Peace! Be still,” in order to calm the raging waters.

These alternatives did not seem to bother the early Christians who saw, in this scene, a picture of the early Church tossed about by the waves of the surrounding world, a world subject to storms threatening what they called the “Bark of Salvation,” a “bark” or small sailing vessel containing Christians who would drown unless they were protected by Jesus, the Christ. It’s a scene that’s portrayed in many stained glass windows in churches. It is a popular image for the Church and its relationship to the world and to God. But it’s also an image that can be brought closer to home, for it may, indeed, be an image of our individual homes, today.

Perhaps, this image comes to me in particular this weekend when Karen and I celebrate our thirty-ninth wedding anniversary. It’s been almost four decades, ago, when we first saw those hills surrounding the Finger Lakes where we lived when we were newlyweds. We’ve seen our share of the ups and downs of life. The times when it seemed as if we were lost at sea and the times of being in a safe harbor, watching a magnificent sunset on a perfect day. So, today, the image of a sailing vessel on the Sea of Galilee seems to be an appropriate one, not only for all of Christendom, but also for each of our families.

For are there not times when it seems our home-life is sailing calmly along, when everything appears to be going well. Mom and Dad have satisfying careers either in the home or elsewhere. The kids are doing well in school. There are no problems with drugs or crime. But, then, there is a sudden shift in the wind and both our nights and our days are consumed with new dangers surrounding us.

And what do we do? Are we like the disciples who awaken the Christ with them? Do we, ourselves, arouse the Christ within us and ask for his help, or are we afraid to wake him, afraid he will be angry with us, or afraid he will not help us. I raise the question because of the other part of today’s gospel reading. Yes, Jesus spoke words that calmed the sea, but what else did he say?

Mark, according to one translation, writes, “Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. Jesus said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’” In the back of our mind do we hear these words when the boat in which we sail is about to be overcome by a surrounding storm? Are we afraid that by asking for help, we somehow show a lack of faith that everything will turn out as God wants it to. After all, perhaps God has sent us the storm to test us, to try our faith.

Or does our faith, in fact, include the belief that we actually show our faith by seeking his help? It is then that we put our faith into action. Do we remember when his friends asked for his assistance, the first question Jesus asked them was “Why are you afraid.”

Why are you afraid when you know I am here? Right here, in the tossing boat. Right here, with you in your troubles and dangers. All you need to do is turn to me and ask for help. Help that I will immediately give you. Help to calm the waters about to engulf you. Or better yet, help to still the storms within you. Help to lift the clouds within you so that you can see in the moonlight the shore towards which you can now sail.

We no longer need to fear a God who questions us from a swirling cloud, but rather, recognize we have a Lord who rests within us. A Lord who may appear to be asleep but who instantly awakes, who whispers the words, “Peace! Be still.” A friend who gently inquires, “Why are you afraid?” A friend who already knows the answer to the question he asks: “Have you still no faith?” No faith to know I am here to help you? With this friend, Jesus, we know the answer to the question, “Why me? Why do you help me?” We know he always responds, “Because I love you.”

^{Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time; June 22, 1997 Job 38:1-8-11:2; 2 Cor 5:14-17; Mk 4:35-41}