Author: patcamerino

Today’s question requires a physical response. I’d like each of you, right now, to point towards the East. Yes, that’s right. Well, there seems to be some difference of opinion. Since our sanctuary is circular, it is difficult to be sure which direction is East. However, since the astrologers we heard about in today’s gospel came out of the East, I thought it might be a good idea to see how many of you might recognize the direction from which they came.

Actually, due East is directly behind me. To verify this fact I used my pocket compass. If you don’t believe me, you can come up here after mass and check it out yourself. You might be wondering why I asked you to point to the east, in the first place? In part, it’s to get you involved in today’s reading and the feast we celebrate today, the Epiphany.

In the pre-Vatican II liturgical year, Epiphany was celebrated on January 6th, the Twelfth Day after Christmas. But now we celebrate this feast day on the First Sunday after New Year’s Day. So, since this is “liturgically” the Twelfth Day of Christmas – even if it’s actually January 8th, two days later – I suppose I could have brought in twelve lords a leaping, but I thought the altar area might get a little crowded.

In some European cultures, Epiphany is celebrated as the major holiday, instead of having it on December 25th. It’s the day when the Christ-child was made known to the outside world, to the non-Jews, the gentiles, who came from Arabia to pay him homage as the new King of the Jews. And that’s what Epiphany means; to make manifest, to make something visible.

And what does all of this have to do with us, here at the beginning of the year we call 1989? Well, the focus of today’s reflection is this: how do I make Jesus the Christ visible to others? A corollary of this question is another one: how do I react when I hear a new message? Where do we start these reflections on reactions to a new message and making Christ visible in this world?

Perhaps we should begin with thinking about King Herod and how he reacted to the question the astrologers put to him. First of all, no one is sure just how many astrologers showed up some two-thousand years ago in Jerusalem. The Greek word for these men is “magi”; it’s plural, so there must have been more than one. Some early traditions had the number twelve; but later traditions settled on three, one for each of the three gifts mentioned in the gospel: gold, frankincense and myrrh. But these details really don’t matter; at least not to Matthew who tells us the story.

What did matter to Matthew? It was simply this: at some point after the birth of the child who was to be the Messiah, strangers, foreigners, showed up in the capital city of the Jews looking for this child who was to be the Messiah, the leader who would save the Hebrews, who would usher in the new age of Yahweh. These were not Jewish scholars; they were unbelievers. Yet they came to do homage to this child. When they arrived in Jerusalem, what better person to ask about this new-born king than the present ruler, the current king of the Jews. After all, wasn’t he charged with the responsibility of leading these people until the Messiah came? Wasn’t the king awaiting the arrival of the Messiah just as eagerly as the rest of the people were; all those who had been calling out for deliverance for so many years?

Evidently King Herod was not waiting for the Messiah. In the first place, even though he was the recognized leader of the Jewish community, he had no idea where the Messiah was to have been born. He had to call together all of the chief priests and the learned scribes to ask them what they thought. And after checking all of their resource books, they finally came up with an answer. The Messiah was to come from this little village about five miles south of Jerusalem. Even then, King Herod was not pleased.

When he heard the news from these foreigners that the Messiah may have been born and that they had come to pay this new-born child homage as if he were royalty, King Herod devised a plan to learn more about the child so that he could kill him. How do we know this? We don’t learn it from today’s reading from Matthew’s gospel. But if we continue, we come to the account of how, when the astrologers did not report back to Herod, he sent his soldiers to Bethlehem to kill all male children two years of age or under.

Herod’s reaction to the good news of the coming of the Messiah, the Savior of his people, was that, fearing the loss of his own power, he had to destroy this new-born king. The question is: do we react the same way? When presented with a change in my life, do I see it as a new-found opportunity or as a new threat?

Last week, Deacon Les talked about the new year and about change. For the next few minutes, I’d like to address this issue, as well. The question is: what change is being asked of me? For one thing, I am being asked to become a “new Jerusalem”. Just what does that mean?

For the past weeks during much of the Christmas season, we’ve heard readings from the prophet Isaiah about Jerusalem. Even today’s first reading begins: “Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.”

Why have we been hearing so much about Jerusalem, about a city in the Middle East which has been torn by strife and conflict for so many centuries and is still in the newspapers today for the same reason. Do we read this passage from Isaiah and believe this city in Israel is, indeed, to rise up? Some would believe this. However, for Christians, over the centuries, the reference to Jerusalem is not to a specific city but rather, to the “people of God.”

The early christians saw themselves as the “new Jerusalem”, the “new kingdom,” a people who would someday replace the earth-bound city of Jerusalem. When those early Christians prayed the Psalms and read the words of Isaiah, what they were really saying was: “Rise up in splendor, you Christians! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.”

This is our own challenge today in 1989. We are those same Christians. We are the “new Jerusalem.” The message we need to hear is this: “Rise up in splendor, you members of Christ the Good Shepherd! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you.” And when you hear that message, do you see it as a threat or an opportunity.

Just what does it mean to know that “our light has come”? I believe it means we are to take that light and to shine it forth to others. We are called to make that light visible to others. We are called to make Christ visible to others. We are each called to be Epiphanies.

How are we to do this? By living out our lives as Christians. By hearing the new message and allowing it to change our lives. Change is not easy. Whether it is at a community or a personal level. Consider how in a few short days we will have a change in our national government. Each time a new president is inaugurated, even when his political party is the same, there is a time for change. Some see this in terms of new opportunities, others as new threats.

Other nations have similar concerns; it ‘s not unique to the United States. In the U.S.S.R. some soviets view Mr. Gorbachev’s “glasnost” as a new opportunity; others within the existing power structure see it as a new threat. At the same time, when I was thinking about this homily, the image came to me of Gorbachev’s recent visit to the United States. Here was a modern stranger visiting a foreign country with a message that some in the U.S. would see as a new opportunity and others would see as a new threat.

Although political changes give us a clear picture of change in terms of threat or opportunity, our own personal lives have changes which give us similar attitudes. Each of us can view this new year in terms of opportunities or threats. And within this year, we each have specific changes ahead of us.

For some a new job. For others a move to a new home. There can be new acquaintances and new friends or enemies. For some, there are unforseen crises: problems of health, perhaps the death of loved ones. Some situations call for new determination: areas of alcoholism, substance abuse: drugs, or tobacco, or even food. Others are called to consider such tragic matters as child abuse. For some there is the need to think about changing a relationship which is detrimental to our well-being. Each change is difficult. Each change has built-in fears and doubts. Yet each change can be a new opportunity. What kind of an opportunity?

An opportunity to make Christ more visible to others! When we are called upon to make a change, this attitude needs to become our guiding light. How, by my decision, by my action, how do I make Christ more visible to others? My focus must be on him, upon Jesus the Christ, in order for the change to be seen as an opportunity and not a threat.

At the beginning of this reflection, I asked each of you to point towards the East. Not everyone got it right. However, if you are ever in a church and asked that question again, you are almost certain to be correct if you point in the direction behind the altar. From the earliest days of Christianity, churches have been built so that the people face towards the East. In that way, the rising sun can always be seen through the stained-glass windows above the altar and the people can be reminded of the light of the risen Christ.

What our Christian buildings accomplish, we also should do. If we face the light of the Christ, if we allow his light to shine upon us as we make our choices and live out our lives, it is then that we can be an Epiphany to others.

Epiphany; January 8, 1989
Is 60:1-6; Eph 3:2-3, 5-6; Mt 2:1-12

My question for today’s reflection is a personal one. Now that the season of Christmas is over and the lights and decorations have been put away, what has happened to the gifts you and your family received? How many of the toys are broken – or discarded because of a lack of interest? What did you do with Aunt Gertrude’s “whatch-you-call-it” that she gave you with such love, but you really can’t stand? Which gifts have been shoved away, unused – waiting the time to be re-gifted in a white elephant sale? And which ones do you really like and use every day?

Each year, all of us receive material gifts we never use, as well as those we truly love. But what about the other gifts we have. The ones we have received from God? Yes, the focus for today’s reflection is rightly on these gifts: a focus on how do we use the gifts – the talents and abilities which God has given to each one of us?

We are, of course, reminded of those gifts in the reading we heard from Saint Paul’s letter to the Corinthians. Paul, who seems to like to list things, speaks of the gifts of: “expression of wisdom … [and] of knowledge; faith, healing, mighty deed, [and] prophecy …” that is, speaking out on behalf of God. He identifies the gift of “discernment of spirits,” the ability to tell the difference between good and evil. To these seven, he has also added the gifts of speaking in tongues and of interpreting them, gifts which are related to our ability to pray to God and to understand what God says to us in prayer.

All of these gifts are ways to understand how God works in our lives and how we are to share this understanding with others. Saint Paul reminds us that there is a relationship between these gifts and our responsibilities for the use of these gifts. Our reading began with the words: “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.” He also said: “To each person the manifestation of the spirit is given for [the common good.]”

It seems from this, that each one of us is given a gift that we are to use in the service of others. To receive a gift and honor the giver, means that we are to use the gift and that we are to share this gift with others. If you put Aunt Gertrude’s whatch-you-call-it away in the closet, you please yourself; you do not please Aunt Gertrude, who thought you needed whatever it was she gave you. Perhaps the Holy Spirit is much like Aunt Gertrude. We receive gifts from the Holy Spirit but don’t know what to do with them and so we stack them away, unused. So, maybe it’s time to think about how we respond to a gift.

To approach our attitudes about these gifts, we might take a closer look at today’s gospel reading: the story of the wedding feast at Cana. Here at Christ the Good Shepherd, we are reminded of this story every time we look at the Marian window. Most of you probably know that the central panels in our window show Mary and Jesus at the wedding in Cana, where she asks him for his help and he performs what John calls the first of his signs of glorification: the turning of water into wine.

Biblical scholars tell us that the Gospel of John is a special theological approach to Jesus and is noted for its symbolism. It’s for sure that today’s gospel reading has a high level of symbolism. First of all, we have six stone jars filled to the brim with water and this is done under the authority of Jesus. The total volume of water turned into wine is over one-hundred-fifty gallons or something like six-hundred bottles of wine. Now that’s a wedding party, considering that the original supply had already run out!

In symbolic terms, some see Jesus taking the Jewish tradition of the law, signified by the water used for purification rites, and transforming it into the superabundance of the new covenant. They see relationships between the first sign of the glorification of Jesus in the Gospel of John and the last sign of his glorification at his crucifixion. Here, at the beginning of John’s gospel, Jesus addresses Mary in terms of the woman who does not recognize that his time has not yet come. At the end of John’s gospel, Jesus addresses her in terms of the woman who is told to look upon her new son, the beloved disciple who represents all of us. The water changed into wine is seen in terms of the water and blood which pour from the pierced side of Jesus, a scene that is unique to John’s gospel.

And in between, the superabundance of the water turned into wine is also viewed in context with the other times water is emphasized in John’s gospel.
● Times which include his telling Nicodemus we need to be born again with water and the spirit.
● Or the living water Jesus talks about with the woman at the well.
● Or the cure of the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda.
● Or the man who was born blind and who was cured by washing in the pool of Siloam.
● And of course, there is the time when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples.
All of these stories involving water are found only in John’s gospel. So, it’s easy to see how John was deep into symbols and how important water and purification are in his theology.

With the use of symbols so strongly in mind, it’s not unfair to use the symbols of the wedding feast at Cana for a deeper understanding of gift giving. But rather than water and wine, the symbols I want to consider are the people, themselves, whom we encounter in today’s reading. People who might be you and me. The real question for our reflection today is this: If I were at the wedding feast in Cana, who would I be?

There are many different kinds of people at this wedding party. Each one of them had both a different knowledge and a different understanding about the gift Jesus provided for them: the gift of the water turned to wine. And as a result of this understanding, they responded in different ways to his gift.

First of all, what was the understanding of the servants who poured the water into the jars and drew out the wine to be served? They saw what had happened, but they did not really understand what they saw. How many of us see our own gifts from God, but do not understand what they are? We continue to carry a miraculous gift but do not appreciate the wonder of what we carry.

And what about the chief steward? He tasted the new gift, but thought that the bridegroom had kept it hidden all this time and was only now making it available to his guests. How many of us attribute our own gifts to human effort and do not recognize the true origin of our talents and abilities?

Then there is the bridegroom who readily accepts the gift but does not question it’s origin. What concern is it of his? So long as people are happy with it and he saves face. Are there those of us who go through life taking advantage of their gifts from God but are unconcerned about how we came by them? Who consume their gifts without even a “thank you”?

And then there are the disciples who saw what was going on and who, according to John, believed in him. They apparently understood the true origin of the gift. But how deep was their understanding? Did this belief change them at the time? Or were they still uncommitted to do anything about it? And what about you and me? Do we momentarily understand the source of our gifts but then fail to act upon this knowledge?

Finally, there is Mary. She was the one who encouraged the initiation of the gift, who was confident that something would happen, even if she was uncertain exactly what it would be. She was the one who sought out a gift, not for herself but for the welfare of others. Do I have the courage to look for my gift and expect to find it? And when I receive it, do I take delight in it and truly use it for my own good and for the welfare of others?

And so, who are you at the wedding feast? What is your understanding about the gift you have received and your need to use it, to share it with others?

Our gifts come in many sizes and shapes. (The holy spirit and aunt Gertrude may have much in common) but this weekend, we are reminded of one person who did recognize that his gifts came from God and that he was meant to share these gifts with others, even if other people might not be ready to accept them. Tomorrow many of us are given an opportunity to celebrate the memory of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., a man who had the gift to move people and to lead them in a non-violent effort to change a way of life many thought could not be changed. It seems to me that Dr. King understood that his gifts were from God and that he must use them no matter what the cost might be to him. It is that kind of understanding which each of us must have about our own gifts. To realize that they are from God and are to be used for the good of others.

Sometimes it’s difficult to recognize our gifts. Sometimes we attribute them to our own efforts. Sometimes we use the gifts of others without realizing the source of these gifts. But like Martin Luther King, Jr., it’s essential that we do understand what our gifts are; that we acknowledge their true source; and that we use them for the good of others, no matter what the cost might be to us. Although Christmas time is over for another year, perhaps we can still open those gifts of Christ, those gifts of the Holy Spirit, and using them, transform our lives and the lives of those we meet.

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time; January 19, 1992
Is 62:1-5; 1 Cor 12:4-11; Jn 2:1-12

In the words of the prophet Isaiah that we heard in today’s first reading God says to the people of Israel: “… you shall be called ‘my delight,’ and your land ‘espoused’. For the Lord delights in you and makes your land his spouse.” This passage leads me to ask a question you need not answer out loud. The question is this: What nick name do you have for your spouse, or if you’re not married, for the one you love?

In case you’re interested and want to use it, the Hebrew word for “my delight” is Hepzibah. And the word for “espoused” or “married” is Beulah, a good old-fashioned name that few would dare use today. And if you’re wondering what nick name I call my wife, I’m not going to tell you. You may have to ask one of our three children or perhaps my wife, whose name in case you don’t know it, is Karen.

For those of you who may be new to the parish and confused about how I have a wife, three children and seven grandchildren, you need to know that I’m a Permanent Deacon and not a priest; and that I’ve been married to Karen for almost forty-three years. Although a few people call me “Father,” instead of “Deacon” Pat, the only ones who really call me that are our daughter and two sons. Of course they also refer to me in other ways but I won’t go into that either.

Now if you’re wondering why I’m making a point of my marital status, it’s because of today’s gospel reading about the wedding feast at Cana. This is a passage which many engaged couples choose to have read at their own wedding celebrations. It’s a very appropriate reading, since it deals not only with a wedding but, even more importantly, with a miracle of change.

At first, you may think this miracle of change involves only the change of water into wine: the first miracle performed by Jesus in his ministry. But there is another change represented by the water turned into wine. This second miracle is the transformation of two people into one couple. Just as ordinary water becomes extra-ordinary wine, an ordinary man and an ordinary woman can become an extra-ordinary couple.

This change results in a new union: a togetherness of a couple who still remain two separate persons but now are joined into a partnership of husband and wife: a partnership in which each one must continue to grow yet in a manner conducive to mutual growth, mutual benefit.

The sacrament of Matrimony is often said to be a sign of the Covenant of God with God’s people, of Christ the bridegroom with his spouse, the church. For just as God has made an unbreakable agreement with all of us, so a man and a woman in their marriage covenant make an unbreakable agreement among themselves and their God.

However, the sacrament of Matrimony is a unique sacrament, one that is very different from, say, Baptism or Confirmation. In Baptism the normal minister is the priest or deacon who pours the water and says the words: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” A bishop is the normal minister for Confirmation. A priest is the normal minister for the Eucharist.

However, the ministers of the sacrament of Matrimony are the husband and wife, themselves. By speaking their vows, their promises to one another, the husband conveys this sacrament upon his wife; and the wife upon her husband. The priest or deacon is a minister of the church who witnesses this exchange. All the friends and relatives gathered together as a community participate as witnesses of this sacrament . which is, as all sacraments are, a community event and an on-going process in which God’s special graces are offered.

No, the sacrament of Marriage does not end with the wedding ceremony. It is a continuing sacrament and, as with all sacraments, it offers its own graces, its own gifts of God’s life within us. There are many graces each one of us can call upon within the sacrament of Marriage. I personally believe that one of the major graces is that of “forgiveness.” I believe a special gift, offered by God to each spouse, is the gift of a continuing reconciliation that heals the hurts encountered in the process of two people mutually growing together. For if reconciliation is not obtained, the result is a divorce for what are called “irreconcilable differences.” But with the gifts of forgiveness and reconciliation with one another, and with God, all things become possible.

However, if I am the only one to speak about this sacrament of Matrimony, you would be missing another very important view. And so it’s now time for you to hear from the person who shares with me the gifts God has given us: my delight called Karen.

[Karen continues] Pat has already mentioned that marriage is a sacrament between two people and God. I want to talk about marriage as a covenant and not merely a contract.

Contracts are based on inequality. If one party fails, the other forecloses. There is little room for forgiveness. Some marriages are indeed contracts; and contracts can be broken. Divorce happens even when couples try to hold the contract together. Divorce is sad, but in and of itself, divorce is not sinful.

In a covenant relationship love and forgiveness are ongoing. Marriage becomes, not a 50-50, but a 100-100 percent relationship. In tough times, one person’s 100 percent has to be enough to keep two imperfect people together until healing and forgiveness are possible. Of course, God, who is the third party in the covenant, helps to reconcile the couple.

If you remember, when the flood was over in the Book of Genesis, God sent a rainbow to Noah and his family as a sign of the covenant between God and human beings. Well, our marriage has a sign too. There are many, of course. We have wedding rings, photographs, memories and children as signs of our covenant. But the sign that I want to show you today is this. (Show the can!).

This is a can which once held corned beef hash. When we married, I moved into Pat’s apartment, and this can of hash was in the pantry. I didn’t, and don’t, like canned hash, and so when we moved a few months later, it was still there. We were too poor, and I was too thrifty to throw it away, so it moved with us. We lived in four apartments in Ithaca, New York, and each time the hash went with us. We crossed the country over the years – from New York to New Hampshire – to Oregon – to Maryland – to Massachusetts and finally here to Houston.

The can grew suspiciously domed and rusty and so the contents were removed long ago but the can moves with us still. it symbolizes the years of economic hardship, the joys of childbirth, the struggles and forgiveness, the hope: the journey. It has been transformed from a humble can of hash to a symbol of our covenant and I wouldn’t dream of moving without it.

Finally, I have a question for you about today’s gospel reading. Why on earth did Jesus make so much wine? Scripture tells us the quantity in the stone jars was between 120 and 180 gallons. Surely it was a waste of fine wine. Or was it? For me, the reason is this. Jesus did more than transform water into wine. At the wedding feast at Cana in Galilee, Jesus transformed a wedding toast into a lifetime of grace to be drawn upon. The grace given to us in our sacrament of Marriage is unending. It allows us to drink deeply of God’s love for us as a couple.

So, you engaged couples out there, prepare to find an abundance of wine at your wedding; much more than you have ordered from your caterer. For you married couples, please don’t forget the endless grace that can be drawn upon; especially in the difficult times in your lives together; and there will be difficult times. And for you who are divorced, widowed or separated; or those who have responded to a vocation which calls for celibacy; or for those who never marry for one reason or another, remember there are graces in abundance in all the sacraments: stone jars of wine which invite you to celebrate God’s love for you, an endless supply of goodness.

The two closest and most beautiful relationships I have in my life are with God and with Pat. Sometimes I feel closer to one than to the other; but when I allow God’s grace to fill me, I can celebrate each day of my life in the knowledge that I am truly loved.

[Pat continues] Yes, the sacrament of Matrimony offers many graces to the couple joined in a covenant with God. It also offers God’s life and love to all who come in contact with this sacrament. In our second reading from Saint Paul, we heard about many different spiritual gifts given by the one spirit for the building up of the community.

At the conclusion of today’s gospel reading, John the Evangelist says: “Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs at Cana in Galilee and so revealed his glory, and his disciples began to believe in him.” In a similar manner, as a sign of their covenant, as a sign of your covenant, as a sign of their sacramental union, each couple is to reveal the glory of God to their friends, to their family, especially their children, to their co-workers and to the rest of society. Each one of us may have a special nickname for our spouse, but the name we all must carry is that of “Christian,” one who reveals the glory of God and the love of Christ to others.

Second Sunday of Ordinary Time; January 14, 2001
Is 62:1-5; 1 Cor 2:4-11; Jn 2:1-11

Today’s question is another liturgical one. My question is this: what is the “Sign of Peace?” What do we mean when we exchange a “Sign of Peace” at mass?

Yes, almost anyone who attends mass regularly knows that right after we pray the Lord’s Prayer, the Our Father, and just before we receive Communion, we turn to those around us and with a handshake or a hug say to one another: “Peace be with you.”

However, some of us remember the days when this was not the case. Back before Vatican II and the changes in the Liturgy, it was at this point in the mass the priest said to the entire congregation: “Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum.” “May the peace of the Lord be always with you.” And the entire congregation responded: “Et cum spiritu tuo.” “And with your spirit.” There were no accompanying handshakes nor hugs back then. No touching in church! It wasn’t seemly!

In fact, when the custom of exchanging a “Sign of Peace” among the members of the congregation first occurred in the late sixties, many parishes did a very strange thing. Some of you may recall it. Back then, all churches had a central aisle dividing the building. And so the people on the left side turned towards the ones on the right side of the church and each side bowed towards the other! It wasn’t until the liberal seventies that Catholics thought it was OK to shake hands during the Mass. And a few really courageous ones even exchanged hugs as a sign of the Peace of Christ among us.

A Sign of the Peace of Christ – a sign that Jesus the Christ brought us a peace beyond merely a lack of conflict – a sign that through praying Our Father and through receiving his Body and Blood – we all enter into a peace and fellowship beyond all understanding. This sign could now be shown by our action, our interaction with one another and not merely by words spoken in a forgotten language.

And what about the “Sign of the Cross?” What do we really mean by this sign? When we trace the image of a cross on our own body – or over the body of someone we love – and say the words, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit” – are we merely making some magical waving of our hand in hopes of good luck – like a basketball player before a free throw – or do we acknowledge our thanksgiving for the suffering of our Lord on the cross and for our blessings given to us by our Trinitarian God?

Do we recognize that our outward expression, our visible action, relates to an inner reality, a reality beyond our human understanding? The “Sign of the Peace of Christ” and the ‘Sign of the Cross” are true signs of the presence of God and of our own acknowledgment of God’s presence.

Do you recall the usual definition of a sacrament? As children we learned that a sacrament is an outward sign of an inner reality. A sacrament is the grace God bestows on us to strengthen us on our journey with Him.

And this is what is meant by the “Sign of the Peace of Christ” and the “Sign of the Cross.” External actions signifying an inner, eternal reality, one that cannot be seen by our human eyes nor heard by our human ears but is recognized only by the interior sight and listening of our human hearts. These particular signs can be called “sacramentals,” little sacraments.

In today’s gospel we heard about another sign. We heard how Jesus, at a wedding feast in Cana, turned water into wine. It is one of the stories from the Gospel of John. A gospel which is divided into two parts, two “books” if you will: the “Book of Signs” and the “Book of Glory.” However, these two “books” have the same purpose. It’s a purpose stated in the last line of today’s gospel: “Jesus did this, [changing the water into wine] as the beginning of his signs at Cana in Galilee and his disciples began to believe in him.”

“To believe in him.” To believe that he is, indeed, the Word of God made flesh. The Word of God, the power of God, who came into the world in which we see and hear. A world where he came to dwell among us. It was in the action of his changing water into wine that his followers began to believe in him. But his action did not stop there. At the conclusion of his ministry on earth, he changed wine into his own blood – and commanded that we consume his body and blood to become one with him and his Father. He did this so that we could enter into an everlasting covenant with him.

We are reminded of this at each and every Eucharist, when the celebrant raises the chalice and says words to the effect: “this is the cup of my blood, the cup of the new and everlasting covenant, shed for all of us … and for the forgiveness of our sins.”

And what is this covenant? This “new and everlasting covenant.” Do we not recall that the “old” covenant was an unconditional agreement between Yahweh and his Chosen People. An agreement that He would be their God and they would, indeed, be his People. A covenant renewed through His promises to Noah, to Abraham and to Moses, that their people would be His people.

And now we have a “new and everlasting covenant,” made through the Pascal Mystery of Christ, that all humanity has become God’s Chosen ones; that everyone has been granted salvation through the suffering, death and resurrection of His only begotten Son. That this salvation is merited by Christ’s actions and not by our own. That this covenant exists for everyone, even if there are those who have not personally accepted this covenant. It is a covenant of unity among us. A covenant of unity.

Which brings me back to our gospel reading for today. It is a reading which is often proclaimed at wedding celebrations. I think it’s usually chosen for the obvious reason it mentions a wedding celebration. A really good celebration. A three-day party where the wine is running out and Jesus makes about 600 more bottles of the best vintage wine out of six large jars filled with water. So yes, it makes a good story about wedding receptions.

But this story is about more than catering a wedding reception. It is really about a covenant. A covenant we call matrimony. It is not about an extended wedding party. It is about an extended, life-long, unconditional agreement between husband and wife. Between wife and husband and the God who created them and blesses their unity with Him.

After all, a covenant is a never-ending agreement between God and God’s people. And this is what the Catholic Church teaches us about the sacrament of matrimony. The sacrament of marriage is a life-long covenant, a life-long agreement of the spouses with one another and their God.

Marriage is a covenant which, when truly entered into with their free-will commitments by husband and wife, is a marriage blessed by the superabundant grace offered by God as his contribution to their agreement.

Just as Jesus at the wedding feast in Cana blessed the bride and groom with a superabundance of wine, he also blesses each couple with a superabundance of his love. It is a love they can call upon as they live out their covenant relationship through times of mutual difficulty. For, as we all know, even when we pledge our commitment of undying love to one another with the vows we exchange, there are times when this love needs rekindling. The original flame of our love can be renewed to an even greater light and warmth, when we draw upon the superabundant love and grace provided by God in this union with him.

In times of difficulty as well as in times of immense joy, we must remember that the sacrament of matrimony is a sign of God’s covenant with us, with us as husband and wife – and as members of the larger community, the larger covenant. Married couples have the sign of their covenant in the sacrament of Matrimony. The larger community has a sign of its own new and eternal covenant with others and with God in the sacrament of Eucharist.

Each sacrament has its own signs. Its own actions. Its own divine encounters. Its own changes. For this, too, is what a sign contains: an action for change, for re-formation. At the celebration in Cana, water is changed into wine. At each celebration of the Eucharist, bread and wine are changed into the body and blood of Christ.

At Cana, only the servants of the groom knew the source of the wine. Only his followers knew and believed in his glory. At Eucharist, only those who serve the Lord, only those disciples who follow his teachings, know and believe in the source of his consecrated body and precious blood. But these changes do not end here.

It is through the action of our consuming his body and blood that we, too, are called to change. We are to change from ordinary people to become his Chosen ones, the ones who proclaim his Pascal Mystery – through our actions, through our love, through our lives. Each one of us is to become a living sign of Christ, a Sign of the Peace of Christ, a Sign of the Cross for everyone. † “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time; January 14, 2007
Is 62:1-5; 1 Cor 12:4-11; Jn 2;1-11

Since the AFC and NFC Championship games are being played this weekend, I could ask you: “who’s going to play in the Super Bowl two weeks from now?” However, for a number of reasons, I think I should avoid asking that one. Instead, I have another football question that might have a scriptural answer – at least according to Saint Paul. My question is this: “Who is the most important player on a football team?” Is it someone who plays on the line or in the backfield? Is a quarterback more important than a kicker?

As I said, Saint Paul would probably have his own way of looking at the question. After all, Saint Paul was an avid sports fan – although he was more into track than he was football. Saint Paul did a lot of talking about running and winning laurel crowns. But if football were around some two-thousand years ago, and the Corinthians were playing the Philippians, perhaps Paul would have written: “Now the team is not one member, it is many. If the place-kicker should say, “because I am not a quarterback I do not belong to the team,” would he no longer belong to the team? If the right guard should say, “because I am not a center I do not belong to the team,” would he then no longer belong to the team? If the team were all tacklers, who would throw long touchdown passes? If the team were all passers, what would happen to our defense? As it is, the team owner, the general manager, and the coach have set each player on the team in the place they wanted him to be.”

And Paul might continue: “We honor the players we consider less honorable by clothing them with larger shoulder pads and harder helmets. Furthermore, if one player suffers, all the players suffer with him; if one player scores the winning touchdown, all players receive Super Bowl rings.”

I really think this is what Paul meant when he wrote: “As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons, and we were all given to drink of one Spirit.” Paul continues to remind us that we, you and I, are members of that one body and that Jesus the Christ is the head of this body.

Today is an especially good day to be reminded of this. During this past week, from January 18 through Monday, January 25th, millions of Christians around the world have been participating in this year’s “Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.” On Monday evening there will be a concluding service at Sacred Heart Co-Cathedral that celebrates the desire for all of us to be, truly, one body.

However, regardless of how we as Catholic Christians might publically celebrate this desire to be ecumenically one body, it is important that each one of us recognizes what it means to be, in fact, part of the one body of Christ. And how are we to do this?

Perhaps the words found in today’s Gospel reading may give us a clue. In a way, it’s a strange reading. The first lines are from the opening of Luke’s gospel, when he sets out his reason for writing it: to present to Theophilus – a name that means “one who loves God” – to present to Theophilus, an account of what has been said about Jesus so that his reader can believe more strongly in this person, called the Christ, the Anointed One of God.

But then, after these opening lines, today’s reading jumps from the first chapter of Luke’s gospel to the fourth chapter, when Jesus returns from the temptations in the desert and – empowered by the Holy Spirit – begins his public ministry.

We hear how Jesus, thought to be the son of a carpenter, entered the synagogue in his hometown of Nazareth. And there, in a synagogue where he had heard the scriptures of his people and, no doubt, as a young, Jewish man, had read them aloud countless times before, he now reads a passage from Isaiah: “The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.” And then Jesus, this so-called carpenter’s son, said: “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.”

Now we come to the real question for us today: just what does this passage have to do with us? Do we hear it only as an event in the life of Jesus? Or do we see glimmers of how it might apply to us?

Can each one of us say:
● The spirt of the Lord is upon me.
● The spirt of the Lord has anointed me with my baptism and my confirmation.
● The spirit of the Lord sends me to bring glad tidings to the poor.
● The spirit of the Lord sends me to proclaim liberty to those held captive.
● The spirit of the Lord sends me to help others see, to remove the darkness of night and let in the light of day.

Or perhaps each one of us says:
● Not me! I’m not that kind of person.
● I can’t work in a soup kitchen or in a housing project.
● I can’t suddenly go to a foreign country to help in its reconstruction.
● I’m not able to counsel a young, pregnant girl.
● I don’t know how to teach a class in religion.
● I can’t stop people around me from telling racial jokes.
● I don’t know how to help heal a broken heart, a wounded soul.
● I cannot preach. I cannot teach.
● I cannot do what others seem to do so easily.

But the spirit of God – the love of God and of Jesus the Christ – does not ask us to do what we cannot do. Instead, the spirit calls us to do what each one of us can do. The spirit does not ask a foot to do the work of a hand nor an eye to function as an ear.

Indeed, in the words of Saint Paul:
● Some of us are apostles, sent out to proclaim and work for the kingdom.
● Some are prophets, sent to remind others, through our words and actions, what God calls us to do.
● Some are teachers who attend to the minds of those in our care.
● Some are healers who attend to the bodies of those in our care.
● Some are administrators who attend to the social needs of those in our care.

All of us are called: not to do everything, but rather to give from those talents and skills that have been given to each of us. To give what we can give and not to be trapped into trying to give what we do not possess. Yes, through our Christian baptism, each of us is to proclaim that this is, indeed, a year acceptable to the Lord. Each one of us is called, in our individual, unique ways, to act as true members of the one body of Christ.

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time; January 24, 2010
Neh 8:2-4, 5-6, 8-10; 1 Cor 12:12-30; Lk 1:1-4; 4:14-21

How you respond to today’s question may depend on how old you are. My age-dependent question is this: How do you feel about “hand-me-downs?” Hand-me-downs – those things you get from someone else. If you have an older brother or sister, you probably got hand-me-downs of clothing which no longer fit them. Or maybe toys, like an old bike. If you are a young, married couple, or recall the time when you were a young married couple, you probably had hand-me-downs of old furniture which your parents were no longer interested in having but you needed to have, because you couldn’t afford to buy anything new.

Yes, we usually think of hand-me-downs as things that no one else has a use for, because they’ve outgrown them or they’re merely old but still have life in them. Yet there are other kinds of hand-me-downs, too. There are those we call “heirlooms” – a classic piece of jewelry, for example; or antique furniture. Some of us even browse through flea markets or garage sales in search of hand-me-downs we can display with pride in our homes.

There are even other, less tangible hand-me-downs in our lives. We call them “traditions” – those values and behaviors which come from prior generations. Beliefs, actions and events adding an extra meaning to our lives. Ones we treasure and want to pass on to those we love; those who come after us.

At the 5:30 liturgy this weekend we celebrated a special kind of “hand-me-down.” We call it Baptism – when we initiate new, little brothers and sisters into the tradition of our faith; into our family of fellow Christians. In this celebratio, we urge the parents and God-parents to pass on to their children the faith and love and hope they received in their own baptisms.

At the nine o’clock liturgy this weekend we honored Boy Scouts and their own traditions: all those events in their lives transmitting the values of the generations of scouts who came before them. Values which speak of duty to God and Country, to other people and to one’s self.

St Paul in today’s reading from his letter to the Corinthians also speaks of hand-me-downs when he writes: “For I handed on to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures; that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures …”

“In accordance with the scriptures…” This too, is a form of hand-me-down. Scriptures tell us what has gone on before us and what we should seek in the future. The scriptures tell us how to live our lives in the present kingdom as well as what to expect in the fulfillment of this kingdom, this reign of God.

Scripture is a special kind of “heirloom” – if you will. An heirloom to be treasured for its past, its present, and its future handing-on to others. Some may take a beautiful, old-fashioned, heirloom ring and put it in a safe-deposit box for its own protection. Another person may wear the ring for its own sake and for the remembrances it holds. Still another may transform the stone with a new setting, a new style, a new life. A magnificent piece of furniture can be hidden away in an attic or it can be polished and re-furbished to take an honored place in a home until it is passed on to a new generation who will love it and use it.

In the ancient world, tradition applied not only to things but to what people did: their occupations, their vocations, their callings. If your father was a fisherman, well then, you too, would be a fisherman. You would be like Peter and Andrew – or like James and John, the sons of Zebedee, and mend your nets on the shore of the Sea of Galilee after a fruitless night without catching a single fish.

Yet that tradition could be changed, under the right circumstances. Such as the time when a teacher came along and showed you an abundance, a superabundance if you will, of what God can do, if you only give Him the chance. Jesus, you will recall, did not say that these four men should no longer be fishermen. All he said was that what they caught would change. And in this re-focusing, their ancient tradition, their vocation which had gone back for so many generations – this part of their traditional approach – would change dramatically.

Just as it had for a young man by the name of Isaiah. Isaiah, who – as any devout Jewish man of his time would do – Isaiah was praying in the temple. However, on this particular day the Lord God appeared to him. And when Isaiah thought – as any devout Jewish man believed – when Isaiah thought that the Lord God would strike him dead because he, a sinful human, had beheld the Lord God … Isaiah found, instead, that this very Lord God sent an angel to purify him.

An angel … to take away his sinfulness … so that in response to the Lord God’s question: “whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” … Isaiah was able to say, without any further hesitation: “Here I am. Send me!” Yes, Isaiah was sent to prophesy to the Israelites of his day. And the four brothers; Peter and Andrew; James and John, were to follow Jesus and help him catch not a superabundance of fish, but a superabundance of humanity.

But what about you and me? What are we to do with the traditions, the values, the events handed down to us?
● How are we to shape the lives, the minds and hearts of our children by handing down to them the values we have received?
● How are we to demonstrate God’s justice and mercy through the ways we conduct our business and perform the jobs we’ve undertaken?
● How do we pour forth God’s compassion on those in need of comfort and assistance?
● How do we announce to the world the fact that Jesus the Christ has handed on to us a new life – one he wants us to share in his name with everyone we meet?
● How do we take the scriptures we’ve heard and turn them into the reality of our own lives?

Yes, tradition can be hidden away. It can be preserved under glass. Or it can be renovated for new life. That hand-me-down clothing and that parental furniture can be tossed out with the trash or they can be used again to bring warmth and joy to new generations.

Each of us is transformed, not with a burning ember touching our lips, but rather with the Eucharistic bread and wine entering us. Each of us has seen how the words of Jesus the Christ have enriched our own lives beyond all worldly measures, not with boatloads of fish, but rather with the joy and the tranquility we gain from him and from others who follow him.

Perhaps each of us needs to recall the words we heard at the conclusion of today’s reading from St Paul: “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me has not been ineffective.” With these words burning within us we can take the traditions, the hand-me-downs we have received from God, and say with renewed confidence: “Here I am, Lord; send me.”

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time; February 8, 2004
Is 6:1-2a, 3-8; 1 Cor 15:1-11; Lk 5:1-11

Today’s gospel reading comes from Luke’s version of what is called “The Sermon on the Plain.” We heard the opening verses last week in the Beatitudes, the “blest be” teachings of Jesus. The Sermon on the Plain is very much like Matthew’s “Sermon on the Mount.” On the other hand, Luke has serval stories you won’t find in Matthew’s gospel. One of the more well-known stories found in Luke’s gospel is the story of the “Good Samaritan.” It’s a story that Jesus told in answer to the question: who is my neighbor? Who is the one I should love?

That might be a good question for me to ask today: Who is my neighbor, who is the one I should love? However, today’s readings prompt me to ask a related question. My question is this: “Who is my enemy?” Who comes immediately into your mind as being your “enemy?” And if you are among those who have no specific enemy, perhaps you might ponder for a moment the general question: “How do I define who an enemy might be?”

There are many reasons why you might conclude someone is an enemy; but I would suggest that one definition is this: “my enemy is someone who has hurt me. Or someone I believe will hurt me, someone whom I fear. A person who will attack me, a person I must avoid in order to be safe.”

Today’s first reading speaks of such enemies. We heard the story of King Saul and his army of three-thousand men who pursued David and his companions. David had every reason to see the pursuing king as his enemy. And Saul certainly thought that David was his enemy, at least now. That had not always been the case; not in the beginning when young David, who had slain the giant Goliath and had saved Saul’s kingdom; David, who would sing his songs in order to ease the troubled mind of his king. But finally, Saul’s great melancholy and paranoia got the better of him. Saul thought David might try to take over his kingdom. And so, David, innocent of any wrong-doing, fled before Saul could kill him.

Now, as we heard in our first reading, Saul pursued David until that night when Saul and his army slept in the desert of Ziph. It was there that David and his nephew crept into the camp and found the king asleep. A night when David could have killed Saul; but instead he proved to the sleeping king that he was not his enemy; that he still believed that his king was the one anointed by God. In effect, David said that he would not harm Saul even though Saul wanted to kill him.

From our first reading we now turn to our gospel reading in which we hear, Jesus, the descendent of David, saying: “Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you and pray for those who maltreat you.” And we immediately ask ourselves: how can this be? How can I possibly love my enemy? How can I take these words of Jesus seriously? What does he really mean?

Well, one way to attempt to understand these words is to recall that they are part of a larger teaching, a teaching that is central to why we call Jesus the Savior, the Redeemer. Perhaps we need to focus for a moment on the central gift Jesus brought to us; a gift he wants us to share with others; the gift we call “forgiveness.”

He asks us to love our enemy by first forgiving our enemy; by saying: Although you have hurt me, I will not harm you back. I will not retaliate. Even though you pursue me like Saul pursued David, I will not fight back. I wish to forgive you so that we can go on from here. I wish to heal that which divides us. And to do this, I must first of all forgive you.

To forgive an enemy real or imagined – or for potential hurts – can be difficult. It’s much easier to forgive “nice” people, those who will be grateful when I forgive them, who will make me feel good about having forgiven them. Perhaps I need to ask myself: why do I forgive someone? Do I forgive you in order to feel good about myself or do I forgive you while remembering who you once were and might be again?

Or perhaps I need to ask myself: when do I forgive you? Is it only after you have changed? It’s much easier to forgive those who make concessions to me; those who give in to my demands before I forgive them; who change in order to suit my needs so that I feel justified and righteous about having forgiven them. Do I declare you are no longer my enemy before or after you stop pursuing me?

And if I forgive you, must I also forgive what you have done to me? When Jesus asks me to forgive someone, let alone my enemy, is he asking me to condone those actions that have hurt me? When I forgive, do I automatically approve of all those terrible things that have been done to me or to those I love and care about? Or does my forgiveness say: I acknowledge you have hurt me; you have hurt me very deeply; but even though I have suffered much because of your actions, I do not want to cut you off, banish you. I do not want to retaliate to protect myself and, in the process, destroy myself.

And if I do turn the other cheek in this modern society, do I, in effect, accept the abuse heaped upon me? Am I willing to be an abused spouse, an abused child because Jesus says I should turn the other cheek? Or do I also listen to these same words as reported by Matthew, who first reminds us that the old Law demanded retribution with “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth;” but that the new law – while not condoning mistreatment, while not approving the abuse – does urge us not to pay back abuse with an equal retaliation. Just because I am abused does not give me the right to abuse another person. Just because someone steals from me does not give me the right to steal from someone else.

But all of this is so hard to do. How can I ever forgive my enemy for the hurt that has been done to me; let alone love the one who hurts me? Perhaps, I also need to recall what Saint Paul speaks of in his letter to the Corinthians: the letter we heard in the second reading for today. Paul reminds us that Adam, a name that means “man of earth,” that Adam hurt God and that God’s response was to banish Adam from his company; but he did so with a promise: a promise of forgiveness; a promise met in his own son, who from the cross forgave those who crucified him. Paul reminds us that we, too, bear the likeness of the one who came from heaven. Those who have hurt God, are now forgiven by God. We are not God’s enemy; we have been forgiven.

And so, in the final analysis, the question I began with, “who is my enemy?” now becomes two related questions: “who has hurt me?” And “whom must I forgive even though they have hurt me?”

Is it a spouse who has hurt me? A blood relative, a mother or a father; a son or daughter who has wounded me? Is it someone I called my friend who has harmed me? Is it my boss or someone else at work who is out to get me? Or have I injured myself through my own actions? Am I my own enemy? Must I forgive myself? Or is it God who seems to wish me harm? Have I seen God as my enemy? Must I forgive God?

Jesus certainly did not see God as the enemy, as someone who brought him his suffering. He saw God as “Abba,” as beloved “father.” These, then, were his instructions to those who would follow him, who would also call upon Abba. He said: Do not judge, and you will not be judged; Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.

Now as we approach the season of Lent, perhaps this is the time to acknowledge the hurts we have suffered and, in response, to offer our own forgiveness. Perhaps in doing so, we can also pray as did Saint Francis some seven centuries ago: “ … for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time; February 22, 1998
1 Sm 26:2,7 -9; 12 – 13,22 -23; 1 Cor 15:45 -49; Lk 6:27 – 38

And the question I have for you is: Why am I wearing a mask? Some of you might think I’m wearing it to remind you that next Tuesday is Mardi Gras; that Wednesday is Ash Wednesday; and Lent is coming. Right now, it’s carnival time and during carnival people wear masks.

But this isn’t the reason I’m wearing it. No, the real reason is to illustrate part of today’s readings. In the gospel reading Jesus proclaims: “You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.”

And what is a hypocrite? It’s someone who wears a mask. In Greek theater actors wore large masks depicting different emotions so that the audience in the back could tell what their moods were. But here at CGS, I hope you don’t need for me to wear a mask. It’s better when I can really see you and you can really see me and hear me speak clearly. And that is what today’s readings are about: the real me and the real you. About seeing and speaking clearly.

We heard three examples of this in the first reading from the Book of Sirach. In the first example we have a pile of wheat straight from the fields. You could not use such wheat directly for baking your daily bread. First, you had to sift it through a sieve. The small, edible grains would be passed through it; the inedible husks would remain caught in the sieve and be thrown away. In the second example we have a potter who has finished forming his vase. It finally has the shape he was hoping to get. But there may be impurities in the clay he was using or he may have made the walls too thin in certain places. He puts the pot into his kiln and begins the drying process. If there are errors in either the material itself or in his methods, the vessel will crack during the firing and need to be thrown away. In the third case, we have the fig tree yielding bitter fruit or fruit infested with insects, if the farmer did not take proper care of it during it’s growth.

Jesus in his own parables, his own stories, followed up on these thoughts. First of all, Jesus spoke of leadership. A leader must see the way clearly in order not to lead others astray as well as to lead those who can not see the way at all. He also reminds his own followers that disciples who do follow the teacher can, when trained, become like the teacher.

Jesus then speaks of those who are critical of others without being critical of themselves; who try to correct others without first correcting themselves. He too, speaks of trees and good fruit coming from good trees, those which are cared for and cultivated. And finally he reminds his disciples and us: “A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good, but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil; for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.”

“The mouth speaks.” The words of Jesus echo those of Sirach: “When a sieve is shaken, the husks appear; so do one’s faults when one speaks. … The fruit of a tree shows the care it has had; so too does one’s speech disclose the bent of one’s mind.”

And what does this mean for us, now some two-thousand years later? Now in this age of mass communication. A time when a large part of communication seems to focus so heavily on violence.
● The culture of today honors the songs and lyrics of violence proclaimed by Eminem.
● The culture of today makes a blockbuster movie out of the violence of Hannibal Lector.
● The culture of today celebrates the violence of extreme sports in the XFL.

Yet, there are those who smile at such antics and say: It’s not for real. It’s a put on. It’s done merely for shock value. Besides: there is freedom of expression.

Yes, I agree: on the surface these may be valid comments. We recognize that Eminem, Hannibal and the XFL are not reality; or at least we hope that they are not reality any more than “Survivors” on either a Pacific island or in the Australian outback are depictions of reality^1.

But what do these examples say about our society, our civilization? Is our civilization being tested? Are we too, being tested? And if so, where does the test begin?

Civilization, itself, begins within the city, within the local community, within the family structure, itself. We see the breakdown of civility almost on a daily basis.
● In the rudeness of both clerk & customer,
● In the interaction of drivers on our roads and in our parking lots,
● In the shouts and accusations of parents and children, of husbands and wives.

Unless we begin to see our own faults and correct them, we cannot hope to correct the faults of others.
● We cannot urge our youth to give up the refuge of their own music until we give up our own refuge, our own addictions.
● We cannot halt the over-consumption of others until we look first at our own forms of self-destruction, our own cannibalism.
● We cannot urge that grown men not be paid for organized violence on the playing field, until we address the violence within each one of us.

On the calendar we have three more days of carnival, of wearing masks so that we can play the fool in public; do what we want to do as part of our so-called freedom of expression. Then comes Lent. A time to remove our masks, to reflect on the true meaning of our lives. Our lives given to us by a loving God. A loving God who did not create us to live in violence but rather to live in him.

During the next forty days it would be well to recall the words of Saint Paul we heard today: “When this which is corruptible clothes itself with incorruptibility and this which is mortal … clothes itself with immortality, then the word that is written shall come about: “death is swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? (….) thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time; February 25, 2001
Sir 27:4-7; 1 Cor 15:54-58; Lk 6:39-45

1. Eminem is the name of a current hard-rock performer, known for his violent (for parents) lyrics. Hannibal Lector is a leading character in a movie series involving cannibalism. XFL is the short-lived Extreme Football League, heavy on game violence. The reality TV series, “Survivor” had previous locations on Pacific islands and the Australian Outback.

Today’s homily begins with more than one question. First of all, would you agree that modern life is a lot more complex than it was a few years ago? If you’re still in school, are the classes harder and longer? And if you’re out of school and are employed, does it seem like you’re being asked to do more in your job lately, what with other people being laid off because of so-called “down-sizing?” And if you’re out of work, does it seem more difficult to find a new job with each passing week or month? Isn’t it a lot harder to raise a family or to live a quiet life? There’s a need to crowd more events and requirements into an already packed schedule than ever before. There seems, however, to be only one way out. Short-cuts! What with all of this growing complexity, we have to take short-cuts; don’t we? And even, without the complexity in our lives, short-cuts are still the way to go … aren’t they?

Short-cuts come in all kinds of packages. There’s the classic short-cut of taking the feeder road to avoid the build-up on the interstate or even the new toll roads. There’s the short-cut of jumping into a newly opened line at the supermarket. There’s the short-cut of opening a can of soup, instead of making it from scratch. There’s a whole industry of fast-foods built on our needs, our demands, for short-cuts. We’re too busy to take the time for the real things.

Real things? Life is so complex we don’t need the real things anymore. The fakes are just as good and a lot less expensive. Who needs real whipped cream, when the white stuff in the squirt can tastes as good and is advertised to be even better than the real topping that’s loaded with cholesterol and fat? Why take the time to write and mail a real letter to a friend, when we can use e-mail, send a fax, or leave a voice-mail message?

Each of us has our own favorite short-cuts and fakes to substitute for the real things. But this desire for short-cuts and substitutes is not a recent invention resulting from our modern complexity. In fact, it goes all the way back to today’s gospel reading, a gospel reading in which the devil is said to have tempted Jesus with fakes and short-cuts.

When he was hungry, having fasted for forty days in the desert, Jesus was offered a stone to eat: a stone that was a substitute for bread. He was offered fake nourishment. All he had to do was say the word and use his personal power to have the stone seem like real bread. But Jesus refused to be nourished by what was not real.

The tempter then offered him a short-cut to power. The devil was willing to give Jesus the power and glory of all the kingdoms of the world right then and there. Jesus would not need to suffer and die so that people would follow him. All he had to do was pay homage to Satan. But Jesus refused to be manipulated and, in the long run, to manipulate others. He refused to take away their free will to choose to follow him.

Finally, the tempter challenged Jesus to prove himself to be the Son of God through his own risk taking; to toss himself from the highest point of the temple in Jerusalem in expectation that his life would be saved by his Father, the Lord God. But Jesus refused this short-cut to prove he was the Son of God. He refused to put God to the test. Rather he would continue on the road which would lead to Jerusalem, where he would be put on trial, executed, and would rise again to show what God’s love was truly all about.

Here, as we once more begin the season of Lent, we are reminded of the three temptations of Jesus the Christ and of the three temptations each one of us must also face. The temptations which focus on me as an individual; on my relationships with others; and my relationship with God. The three temptations, proposed by the false advocate, are countered by the three loves required by the true advocate.

Consider, if you will, how the first temptation of turning a stone into bread relates to my own nourishment and my own senses. In my own life, am I tempted to make use of fake nourishment for my senses? During this Lent, must I become aware of my own addictions to diets, drinks and drugs? Do I abuse my own body, my own self, through my own actions, my own thoughts, my own words? What heavy stone do I consume in the belief that it is nourishing bread? Do I truly love myself?

Consider the second temptation. Jesus was offered the short-cut of freely being given power over others in exchange for taking away their own freedom of choice. During this Lent, must I become aware of how I manipulate others through my actions and attitudes, though my use of anger and intimidation, through my whining and complaining. Do I manipulate the love of others by withholding my own love? Do I show a lack of respect for others? Do I use my position to try to control others? From what mountain top do I view the kingdoms around me and believe that I, alone, deserve all of the power and glory? Do I truly love my neighbor?

Consider the third temptation. What is my own relationship with God and how do I test him? During this Lent, must I become aware of the risks I take in the expectation that no matter how foolish I am, God will rescue me? Do I dare God to show himself in order to prove his love for me? Do I despair in God and test him by believing that my problems are so great that he cannot, or will not, help me to overcome them? On what high temple do I stand and demand that God show his love for me? Do I truly love my God and know that he loves me?

During these next forty days of Lent, each of us will continue on our journey, on our wanderings in the desert of our temptations, until we reach Jerusalem for the final testing and the final reward. But during this time of the three temptations, we also must carry with us the three memories that Moses related to God’s people on their journey from Egypt to the promised land.

In our first reading, Moses reminded the Israelites of their afflictions in the land of Egypt: how they were maltreated and oppressed. Secondly, he reminded them how they cried out to the Lord God for their rescue, their salvation. And finally he reminded them how the Lord God responded with his strong hand and outstretched arm. And so as we make our individual journey through the desert of our temptations, our Exodus from captivity to freedom, we need to recognize our own distress and suffering. We need to cry out to our Lord God in our own prayer. We need to recall how God our Father does hear our prayer and how, in his love, he responds to our needs.

Finally, Saint Paul also has a reminder for us on this first Sunday of Lent. He reminds us: “The word is near you, in your mouth, and in your heart. … Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

And so it is that on our journey this year, and all of the remaining days of our life, we are urged not to take the fake short-cuts that are offered as temptations to reach our goal more quickly. Instead we journey together as a people who love God and neighbor as our self. And who know that Jerusalem is our destiny.

First Sunday in Lent; March 5, 1995
Dt 26: 4-10; Rom 10:8-13; Lk 4:1-13

Today’s question is a very basic one. The answer may be difficult for some people. The question is this: what must you do to be saved? What’s necessary for salvation … for being with God in heaven?

As I said the response for some people may be a hard one to formulate. However, many of our Protestant brothers and sisters have an immediate response. They quote the passage heard in today’s reading from Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans: “… if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”

I certainly do not disagree with this response. Believing deeply within yourself that God raised Jesus from the dead; that our incarnated God suffered and died for us, is resurrected and is with us now through the love of the Holy Spirit … these beliefs are, indeed, the foundation for our salvation, our redemption.

And from this fundamental belief should arise the other half of this statement: to confess out loud, to profess publically that Jesus is the Lord.
● To believe and to confess,
● To believe and to bear witness,
● To believe and to teach others so that they, too, may come to believe
… these are necessary actions for our own salvation history … the path we should follow to be an active member of the Kingdom of God.

I would expect that the vast majority of us, if not all of us participating in this Mass, are among those who believe in the Resurrection of Jesus the Christ. However, not all of us take part in the other requirement: once having this belief, we are to spread the good news. We are to bear witness to others. We are to teach others so that they, too, may come to believe.

We may fall short in this action for several reasons. We may think we’re not sufficiently prepared to teach, to lead others so that they too may come to believe. Feeling unprepared, we think we’re not able to spread the good news. We don’t know how to do it … or even where and when to do it.

As you might guess … the staff of Christ the Good Shepherd is here to help you. On Monday evening, our Faith Formation team will conduct a gathering of those who would like to learn more about our catechetical ministry during this coming year and how you can actively be part of those who – in the words of Saint Paul – “confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord.”

A few minutes ago, I asked the question: what is necessary for salvation? And I gave the short answer by quoting a line from Saint Paul: “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”

Although I completely agree with this positive-action response, I would suggest we might take a closer look at some other actions we should either avoid or consider, in order to strengthen our belief and imitate Jesus more closely – especially as we begin another Lenten period: a period, a time, given to us for reflection on our relationship with him in preparation for the celebration of Easter – and his Resurrection we proclaim. Today’s gospel from Luke gives us some hints on what we should do. We heard about the three temptations of Jesus in the desert. We might also think of them as three related “tests” that he underwent. Remember: The Lord’s Prayer which pleads: “Lead us not into Temptation” can also be translated as a request: “Let us not be put to the test.”

Just what were these temptations – these ways in which Jesus was tested by the devil? What are our own temptations? In what ways are the responses of our own free-will decisions being tested?

In the first temptation we heard how Jesus was tempted to turn stones into bread through his own authority as the Son of God. He was hungry, having been fasting in the desert for forty days. His test was to take the physical stones and turn them into food to feed himself. But he refused. He chose not to use stones as false food.

And what about us? What are the stones and what is the bread in our own lives? How are we tempted to take inanimate objects and turn them into the basic needs of our life? When Jesus was being tested, he said: “One does not live by bread alone.”

What do we really need to live a full life? Is our hunger for a new electronic device the “bread” that drives our desires? Even with economic difficulties, are material possessions the things which motivate us? Or does love of family, love of those depending upon us … are these the conditions motivating us during times of difficulty? Do we try to satisfy our hunger with stones that look like bread but offer no real nourishment?

In the second test the devil offers Jesus all of the power in the world, if only Jesus will worship him. Jesus can gain control of the world and all those in it without having to suffer and die. He can reach his goal with no effort on his own part. All he has to do is worship Satan. And what about us? How do we seek the easy way out in trying to reach our own goals? Do we bargain with the devil to have control over others? Do we use coercion to get our own way at work or at home? When Jesus was being tested, he said: “You shall worship the Lord, your God, and him alone shall you serve.”

Do we serve the Lord God or do we serve someone else? Something else? What power trips are we on? How can turning to the Lord God, effect our own power trips, our behavior, our control issues? Do we make our own free-will decisions to increase our own power, our own economic desires, or do we follow and serve the Lord God by serving others who are in need?

In the third test the devil tells Jesus that there is nothing that can harm him. Satan tempts him by saying that even if Jesus jumps from the highest point of the temple in Jerusalem, God will send his angels to protect him from suffering any harm. And what about us? What hazardous behaviors do we exhibit with the expectation that we will not be harmed by them? – that in some miraculous way, God will protect us, no matter how foolishly we behave. When Jesus was being tested, he said: “You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test.”

Do we put God to the test by our own self-destructive behaviors, believing that God will not allow us to be harmed? Do we believe we cannot be effected by any addictions; that excessive gambling will not bring harm to us and those we love; that excessive drinking or using so-called “recreational” drugs will not influence our health and behavior, because God will protect us? Do we recognize there are many foolish actions we perform that are as potentially harmful as jumping from a tall building? Do we attempt to test God’s love for us by using our free-will to undertake actions we know are detrimental, but we do anyway?

In the weeks between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday, we’re given opportunities to examine what we do and why we do it. We can use this time to look at those events in our lives that tempt us, that test us. In this process of a self-examination of our lives, we need to remember that we are not alone.

We must continue to recall that Jesus (Emanuel) is the Lord who is with us. He is with us in the beliefs we hold in our innermost being – in our hearts – and that we are to proclaim not only with our lips but also with all of our outward behaviors: Jesus is our Lord and Savior. Amen.

1st Sunday of Lent; February 21, 2010
Dt 26:4-10; Rom 10:8-13; Lk 4:1-13