Author: patcamerino

The question for today is an easy one: what time is it?

[This afternoon should be easier than tomorrow. Remember that old saying “spring forward, fall back.” Tonight is the time to change from Daylight Savings Time to Central Standard Time. Have you ever marveled at the audacity that mankind has taken upon itself to control time? We can say that today at this time, it’s 5:45; but tomorrow, it’s 4:45]

[Since you are all here for the 7:30 (9:00, 10:45, 12:30) mass you must have remembered that old saying: “spring forward, fall back” and changed your clocks from Daylight Savings to Central Standard time. Have you ever marveled at the audacity that mankind has taken upon itself to control time? We can say that today at this time, it’s 7:45, but yesterday it was 8:45. (9:45/10:45; 11:00/noon; 12:45/1:45)]

I find it fascinating how humanity tries to control time – time which is a gift of God that we can neither create nor destroy, but only use wisely or unwisely. In a way, today’s gospel message holds a similar fascination. Today we heard a story about a man who thought he was able to control God’s gifts to him, a man who thought, by his own actions, he could merit God’s gifts. We heard the story of the pharisee who proclaimed out loud: “I’m not like common people, I’m special.” A man of wealth and prestige who went to the temple in Jerusalem and said to God: I speak to you as an equal, with head unbowed.

We heard his prayer in which he declared to God: “I am better than others; I do more for you than others do. What I get in life is what I deserve because I’m so good. I am an upright man, a completely moral man, a righteous man.” Yet in telling the story, Jesus said the pharisee was self-righteous; a man who claimed to be self-made, complete unto himself, within himself; but that there was another man in the temple who was, indeed, “justified with God.”

We heard about the prayer of the tax-collector who whispered: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Here was a man viewed by others as an enemy of the Jewish people who said to his God: “I do not merit what I have been given. All I have is a result of your mercy.” Mercy – God’s free gift to me that is not dependent on my deserving it. Here was a person who recognizes: I do try to do what God wants. I do come to the temple to pray. But what I receive is what God grants, even when I don’t deserve them. The tax collector does not maintain he, himself, was righteous. But Jesus in telling the story said that the man was justified. And what does it mean to be “justified?”

Although there are several theological definitions, “justification” might just as easily be understood in our modern day by thinking about word processors – or even old-fashioned typewriters. In every good word processing program there is a command for “justification.” And what does it do? It aligns a line of type the way it should be: either to the right or to the left, or to “full” justification, if you want each line to go all the way from the left of the page to the right.

Looking at it this way, the tax collector was “fully justified.” He was aligned exactly the correct way with God. He began where he should and he ended exactly where he should. He was “right” with God. However, today’s Gospel Reading, and the other readings we heard, speak more than about righteousness and justification. They also present a message about prayer and our encounter with God.

Part IV of the “Catechism of the Catholic Church” is entirely about prayer. If you haven’t read this section yet, I would highly recommend it to you. Part IV begins with a quote from St John Damascene, a sixth century monk and preacher, who wrote: “Prayer is the raising of one’s mind and heart to God or the requesting of good things from God.”

The Catechism goes on to say that: “…prayer is the encounter of God’s thirst with ours. God thirsts that we may thirst for him.” And finally, the Introduction to Prayer in the Catechism concludes with: “… the life of prayer is the habit of being in the presence of the thrice-holy God and in communion with him.”

“… in communion with him.” “Communion with him” includes:
● our speaking to him,
● his listening to us.
● his speaking to us.
● our listening to him.

We each speak; we each listen. But sometimes, we wonder whether God really listens. When we have those doubts, it may be good for us to recall the words from our First Reading from the book of Sirach. “The lord is a God of justice, who knows no favorites. Though not unduly partial toward the weak, yet he hears the cry of the oppressed. He is not deaf to the wail of the orphan, nor to the widow when she pours our her complaint. He who serves God willingly is heard; his petition reaches the heavens. The prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds; it does not rest till it reaches its goal, nor will it withdraw till the most high responds, judges justly and affirms the right.”

God shows no favorites; God listens to everyone. God listens to the oppressed, those besieged by problems: economic downturns, family problems, personal problems. God listens to those who feel that life and their world is crushing down upon them.

God listens to the orphaned, those who are not only the parentless, for the “orphaned” include all those who feel alone and abandoned: the teenager and the elderly, those who believe they have no friends or loved ones, those who are cut off from others by drug or alcohol abuse. God listens to those who feel that they are separated from life and the world around them.

God listens to the widowed, those who not only have lost a spouse, but also those who have been deprived of support: the homeless, the marginalized, those who are ill and lack comfort. God listens to those who feel that life and the world hold no more meaning for them.

Prayer – being in the presence and in communion with God – is possible for all of these people. God listens and responds to those
● who believe the world is crushing them.
● who believe the world is cut off from them.
● who believe the world has no meaning for them.

Paul in his letter to Timothy knew about such feelings: how he felt that everyone had abandoned him in his hour of need, yet he wrote: “…the Lord stood by my side and gave me strength … I was saved from the lion’s jaws. The Lord will continue to rescue me from all attempts to do me harm and will bring me safe to his heavenly kingdom.”

His heavenly kingdom, a kingdom which exists here and now. A kingdom of sinners, those who recognize that each one of us is capable of doing those things which we know we should not do. Yet we can acknowledge that, although we are sinners, we can change. We recognize that, if mankind can change the hour on the clock, we can also change the hour of our life and be in the presence of God and in communion with God.

We may have accomplished everything the pharisee has accomplished. With him, we can say we are not “grasping, crooked, adulterous,” that we honor God and give to others. Yet we realize that through our actions, we neither merit nor earn God’s gifts to us. Rather we are called to acknowledge that God is God and, although we have our failings and are sinners, God still listens to our prayers.

There are many ways to pray. One of the oldest goes back to this story of the pharisee and the tax collector. It is known as the “Jesus Prayer.” This prayer was taught by the desert fathers, those who withdrew from society to pray, alone in the deserts in the first centuries of Christianity.

The words and actions for this prayer are simple. They are repeated over and over again, like a mantra; either whispered softly or recited privately, inside of one’s head and heart, over and over. The words are: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Often, they are said with an inhalation of breath with the phrase: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God” – to signify our drawing in of the life of God; and an exhalation with “…have mercy on me, a sinner” – to signify that we give up those things, those events and actions, those sins which separate us from God.

And so as we begin this new secular time, this change from Daylight Savings Time to Standard Time, I would invite you to continue your change in the reverse direction for your spiritual time. Let us change from “standard” prayer to “savings” prayer. And I would invite you to try out the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God … Have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time; October 30, 1993 (Time Change)
Sir 35: 12-14, 16-18; 2 Tim 4:6-8, 16-18; Lk 18:9-14

Today’s question may not be for everyone. Maybe it’s not even for anyone here but only for certain other people you know. In fact, today’s question is one you need not answer immediately. You may want to think about it during the next days or weeks. It’s a question which might to be considered by the same people to whom the parable in today’s gospel was addressed.

In the translation we heard today, the gospel of Luke states: “Jesus addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.” The Lectionary we previously used, said: “Jesus spoke this parable addressed to those who believed in their own self-righteousness while holding everyone else in contempt.”

“Self-righteousness:” my dictionary defines “self-righteous” with these words: “Confident of one’s own righteousness, especially when smugly moralistic and intolerant of the opinions and behaviors of others.” The synonyms it lists are: “sanctimonious” and “pharisaical,” acting like a pharisee. It would appear that someone who is self-righteous is a person who believes that he has never made a mistake; there are no errors in any of his actions. A person who has never sinned, whose every action is entirely correct.

Well, today’s question is this: What does it mean to be truly “righteous,” truly “just?” What is the meaning of “justice”? Again the dictionary gives synonyms for “just:” such as “fair … unbiased … impartial … and truthful.” It also lists: “deserved” and “merited”

Many of us, if asked to think of an image of “justice,” would see in our mind’s eye, a woman in long robes, wearing a blind-fold and holding up a set of scales. Scales consisting not of a digital read-out like the ones at the deli counter but a balance in which weights are placed on both sides. For justice, the weights we add are the “rights” and “wrongs” of our life. The “good” and the “not-good” of our life.

Like the pharisee, we could add to our scales all of the good things we remember. How we are not like other people who are “greedy, dishonest, adulterous;” how we are not like those around us, those who collaborate with our enemies, those who bring hardship and even death to our people while claiming to be one of us. Publicans. Tax-collectors.

Or, like the tax-collector in today’s parable, we could place on our scales nothing which is positive; no memories of our contributions towards life, itself. But if our reflection ends here, with the boasting pharisee and the beaten-down tax-collector, we may have missed the point of the story – a story not about “scales of justice” held by a blind statue but rather a story about prayer – prayer to an Abba-God who exhibits not only justice but also mercy.

For some of us, justice equals punishment. We see the scales of justice and fail to see them as balances. Justice is not “punishment” so much as it is “correction.” Correction which must be done to bring the person back into a “right balance” with God and society. Justice is seeing and doing the right thing to correct a situation which is out of balance.

For some of us, justice is “merited” or earned by what we do or fail to do. They also view God’s love as being “merited” or earned by what they do or fail to do. Like the pharisee, they say: “I’ve done everything God has asked of me, and for this reason, I merit my reward in heaven.”

Others, like the tax-collector, say: “I have tried, but I know I’ve failed. I am a sinner. I pray that God who knows when I try and fail, looks into my heart and sees what is inside of me and not just my external actions, when balancing the scales of my life on earth and in his kingdom.”

A sinner is not an evil person. An evil person justifies any harm he does in terms of that harm being “good” and being worthy of continuation. Evil people have no desire to balance the actions of their lives. They are content in their excesses, in being out of balance. A sinner, however, recognizes that there are failings which need to be addressed and changed. A sinner seeks reconciliation, a balance with self, others, and God.

Many of us recall that ancient prayer: “Bless me father, for I have sinned.” In this prayer we do not ask for a blessing because we have sinned and want to be excused for what we have done. Nor do we say it in order to have our actions condoned so we can go on sinning. Rather we ask for a blessing, we ask for God’s help, to recognize our failures and to help bring our lives back into balance. It is with great trust in God’s love and mercy, that each of us can pray and know that our prayer will be answered when we say, as did the tax-collector, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time; October 24, 2004
Sir 35: 12-14, 16-18; 2 Tim 4:6-8, 16-18; Lk 18:9-14

This weekend we celebrate a major holiday designed for kids – whether they are mere toddlers or parents who, remembering their own childhood, want to remain “young-at-heart.” Every year on the evening before All Saints Day, these parents help their kids go out in search of candy. They seek “treats: and recall the time when a lack of a good treat might turn into a trick.

This secular holiday of Halloween leads me to my question for today. It’s a question about children … and about parents. It’s this: what is the very first game that parents play with their children?

I have no factual reference for the answer. But it seems to me, that the very first game parents play with their babies is: “peek-a-boo.” Peek-a-boo … that game where adults hide their faces from the little ones in hope that the child will laugh and smile when mom or dad’s face suddenly is seen again. This first game, I think, probably leads to what might be the first major, true game played by children. How many of you, as a youngster, played the game of “hide-and-seek?” It’s a game that is probably found around the world; a game that started thousands of years ago.

As usual, my questions may be a puzzle to some of you. But I bet that some of you may have already made a connection between “hide-and-seek” and today’s gospel reading … which has much to do with hiding and seeking … and even more with seeing and finding.

Today we heard how a man by the name of Zacchaeus “… was seeking to see who Jesus was, but he could not see him because of the crowd.” We then learned that Zacchaeus was very short and had to climb a tree in order to see Jesus. What happened next?

Jesus looked up into the tree and saw Zacchaeus. The Lord and Master whom Zacchaeus wanted to see, was seen by him. The man seeking Jesus was asked to invite him into his home that evening. And what did the crowds see and do?

Today’s reading says: When [the crowds] saw this, they began to grumble, saying “He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner.” The crowds saw a man they despised because of the work he did – the work of a tax collector in collaboration with the Roman occupiers. A man who took their money on behalf of the state and who probably kept a large part of it for his own use.

And what did Zacchaeus say? “Behold, [look here, see] … half of my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone, I shall repay it four times over.” In reply, Jesus said: “Today salvation has come to this house … For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.”

Yes, today’s gospel reading has much to say about “hiding” and “seeking”, about “seeing” and “finding.” Little Zacchaeus … “was seeking to see who Jesus was, but he could not see him because of the crowd.” Yes, he could not see Jesus “because of the crowd.” The real question to ponder today is: Do we seek Jesus but fail to see him because of the crowd standing between us?

And what is this crowd? Is it a mere gathering of people … or is it all of the “things” that stand between me and him?
● All of my secular concerns.
● All of my worldly desires.
● All of my own lack of self-esteem.
● All of my self-seen failures.
● All of my fears.
● All of my sins.

The Book of Wisdom, we heard in our first reading, reminds us that: “Before the Lord the whole universe …[is no more than] a drop of morning dew come down upon the earth.” Nevertheless, as insignificant as the entire universe might be, each of us is important in the eyes of the Lord. In addressing the Lord, the Book of Wisdom goes on to say: “For you love all things that are – and loathe nothing you have made, for what you hated, you would not have fashioned.”

In modern terms, we are reminded: “God does not make junk!” None of us are junk. We are the beloved children of God. So, just what is it that separates us from him? We seek him but do not see him. What must we do so that we can see him? What must I do to overcome the crowd of events which separate the two of us? What tree must I climb? What risks must I take? Just how far out on the limb must I go before I can see Jesus?

Fortunately, the work is not all mine to do alone. Once Zacchaeus undertook his risk to see Jesus, to find him … Jesus, himself, immediately saw Zacchaeus. Jesus found the one who was seeking him. Jesus, himself, desired that this man might invite him into his own house.

Jesus desires the same response from us … to be invited into our homes, into our hearts. He offers us the treats, the sweetness of the kingdom, itself. He has no “tricks” to give us in lieu of his love. Rather, in the concluding words of today’s gospel: “… the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.”

Yes, at times we may return to our childhood and play hide-and-seek with God. Rather than climbing the tree to see him more clearly, we hide behind it and wonder if God will find us. But there are also the times for peek-a-boo with him. Times for us to laugh and smile when we behold the suddenly revealed face of God.

31st Sunday in Ordinary Time; October 31, 2010 (Halloween)
Wis 11:22-12:2; 2 Thess 1:11-2:2; Lk 19:1-10

For the past eleven-hundred years the church on the first two days of November has remembered all those who have died in our Christian faith. We continue that tradition here at Good Shepherd by inscribing in our Book of Life the names of our beloved ones who have died, especially those who have gone home to the Father during this last year and whom we remember in a special way this month. Officially the liturgies this Sunday are to celebrate All Souls Day which occurs each November 2nd. The feast of All Saints, or All Hallows is, of course, November 1st.

For the thousand members of Christ the Good Shepherd who have been actively involved in our Renew Program, this is the fourth week of Renew. The focus of the small-group discussion this week is to be on justice and injustice. So somehow in the next few minutes, I need to tie together All Saints Day, All Souls Day, and the Renew theme of justice and injustice, along with today’s readings. To attempt to do this, I’ve combined all of these themes under one question: what is the relationship of justice with preparedness and with mercy? There are four keywords for today: justice, preparedness, mercy and light.

To begin with, we need to take a closer look at justice, and injustice, especially as we see them in our gospel story. In doing that, we need to take another look at the story itself. Let’s begin with those ten young girls who were servants in the bridegroom’s house. They had been preparing for the wedding celebration for quite a long time. And tonight was the big night. The groom had gone off to the bride’s home for the wedding ceremony, itself, and then he would bring her to his home for the celebration which would last for several days.

It’s early evening, about dusk. The ten girls gather in the entrance room of the villa to wait for the groom, their master, and his new wife. They don’t go out into the street. It gets cold after dark. It’s dangerous out there. So, they huddle down on the cushioned seats around the walls, the seats where clients wait when they come to visit their master. For a while they chat about the party which will begin that evening. But as they wait, they get drowsy. It’s been a hard week, getting ready for the wedding celebration. They all knew their master would get home late; but it’s later than some might have guessed. They fall asleep.

Suddenly, the outside guard cries out that the wedding party can be heard down the road. It’s time for the ten young girls to take their lamps and hurry outside to greet their master and their new mistress. It’s dark and they don’t want their master to stumble, especially as he crosses the threshold with his new wife. Their lamps are important to his welfare. That’s why they had them ready. Except for five of the girls.

These five were known for years as the “foolish ones.” They were never ready for anything. When they saw their own oil lamps begin to sputter out, they asked the other five for more oil. You recall the rest of the story: the five are told to go off to their local 7-11 and buy more oil. They do but get back too late. They never seem to be on time. And their master refuses to let them in, even when they bang on the solidly locked doors.

That’s the parable. There might be two main questions we could raise about it: what does this story have to say about our treatment of others? What does this story have to say about us and the kingdom of God? When we hear this parable now in 1986, especially on this fourth Sunday in Renew, the question we each might ask is: were the five with oil acting “justly” when they refused to share their oil with the other five?

To get a contemporary view on this parable, we might take a look at some people in our own lives who are like the five so-called “foolish” bridesmaids. It’s important, first of all, to realize that they were known to be foolish, not because they didn’t have enough oil that one evening but because they were habitually unprepared. For a moment I’d invite you to think about some ‘foolish” people you know.

For those of you who are still in school, what about those fellow students who never have their homework? Once more they show up on Monday morning without it. Should you allow them to copy yours? Or how about the friend who never has change for a coke, should you always buy her one? Or what about the man who doesn’t ever have his part of a group project done by the deadline, should you cover for him again with your boss?

Perhaps in thinking about our own response to these people who are habitually unprepared, we can take a clue form the five bridesmaids who had enough oil for their own use. The five “sensible” bridesmaids did not lecture or scold the five “foolish” ones. They did not be-little them. Instead, they suggested a positive alternative to put the responsibility right back where it belonged. The five sensible ones urged the other five to go and buy some more oil. It was not an unreasonable suggestion: the five did manage to find an all-night oil dealer and get back. In my opinion, the five sensible young girls did not treat the five foolish ones unjustly. I believe they exhibited justice with the five who habitually were never prepared.

I would offer, for your reflection three definitions.
● First: injustice, which is treating a person in a way that is not merited by that person’s action but on the basis of unmerited conditions.
● Second: justice, which is treating a person exactly on the basis of his merits. To reward or punish someone in proportion to his actions, to give him exactly what he deserves.
● But there is a third word we must look at: mercy. Mercy, which is to treat someone with forgiveness, to treat a person better than he or she deserves or merits. On this basis, the five sensible bridesmaids treated the five foolish ones with justice but not with mercy.

When we hear this parable today, we tend to focus on the questions of justice and of sharing. But when Matthew wrote about this story which Jesus told, it was not about sharing or about justice that their audience was thinking. That audience of nineteen-hundred years ago would immediately have focused on the other question this story raises: upon the kingdom of God and the need for individual preparedness at all times.

In our modern society we tend not to concentrate on our need for preparedness to join the wedding feast of God’s kingdom but rather, we rely on a God of love and mercy who will open the door for everyone. He will not leave us knocking on the locked door, but will open the gates even before we knock. Without in any way minimizing our belief in a God of mercy, I think the church does call us this weekend, on the Feast of All Souls, to reflect for a moment on a God of justice who does ask each of us to take an individual responsibility to be prepared.

I said that November 1st is the feast of All Saints and November 2nd is for All Souls. Why two different days? What’s the difference between “all saints” and “all souls?” Yesterday, All Saints Day, was the day set aside to commemorate all those who have died and are completely at home with God. We are all called to be saints and while we won’t have a special day which the church officially sets aside for us, each of us is called to be part of that communion of saints we remember each time we profess our faith.

Although we each are called to return to the Father, there is an ancient belief that those who die in God’s grace may still need a period of purification before their souls can be completely with God. Historically, we thought of the afterlife in terms of physical places, with physical locations: heaven above and hell below. And so we were taught about purgatory as a “place” where souls suffered before going to heaven. If you were in purgatory, you were assured of going to heaven but you had to wait.

Today, we no longer tend to think of heaven or hell or purgatory as physical places. (In fact, if the truth be told, we may not reflect much at all about heaven or hell or purgatory.) Yet, if we don’t look at heaven or hell or purgatory as places, it might be possible for us to look at three different conditions.

Would it not be “heaven” to know absolutely, positively, in every atom of my being that God exists, and I am completely with him? And could there be any suffering greater – or hell more painful – than to know with equal positiveness, with absolute assuredness, that God exists, and I would never be with him? As for purgatory, would that be a condition of knowing that God exists, but I cannot yet be with him but will be at some future time?

In the terms of today’s gospel, would the five foolish girls waiting outside the gate be in purgatory, knowing that the party has started, that it will last forever and that their good, merciful master will open the door the next morning and let them into the feast?

Once more we return to the master – the master who urges each one of us to be prepared. Am I one of the sensible ones or one of the foolish ones? And if I’m one of the foolish ones, what prevents me from being prepared? Why do I wait with a sputtering lamp and no extra supply of oil?

Do I have the attitude that I can’t make a difference; that no matter what I do, it won’t be enough; so why bother? Since I’ll be caught napping, why begin? Do I believe that my light is not needed? Or is it the case that my light must be added to the light of others; that I should not be concerned about standing alone, since I will be standing with others. After all this is a story of ten bridesmaids, not one. How great would have been their welcome to the master if all ten had held high their lamps? How can I realize that my light is important, that I, too, must be prepared to greet him? To be prepared, I need to begin.

To begin to change my attitude or my behavior, I may need to overcome a fear of failure or a fear of the darkness, itself. Sometimes I just worry about the darkness without doing anything about it. I worry about my fear without dealing with it. I allow my lamp to go out and do not try to get more oil for it; let alone try to have sufficient oil before it goes out.

Being prepared is important; yet being prepared is not enough by itself. I must also act. We are called not merely to wait for the groom to come. We are called to join him at the wedding feast. The purpose of our lamp and our oil is not to be held only in readiness; it is to burn brightly, to light the way, to greet him and to be part of the celebration of the wedding feast of the kingdom, the wedding feast which has already begun, and to which each of us is invited.¹

All Souls Day; November 2, 1986
Lam 3:17-26; Rom 6:3-9; Mt 25:1-13

1. It seems that when people provide written comments about homilies, the tendency is to be on the “negative” end of a critique. For example:
   “Pat, you tried too hard! As you stated in your intro, you attempted to combine the readings, the Renew theme & two feast days into one homily. (I don’t know any person on earth who could do that. Jesus – as well as he preached, never sat down & tried to do that!) Consequently, ideas were jumping around & presented, but they didn’t fit together (& really could not, no matter what you did!) There were also several results that I will write to share w/ you only on paper. The main one is that you had to dig & “add to” the Gospel reading a bit to get it to say what you needed to preach on. God’s Word is strong enough to stand on it’s (sic) own – our job as messengers [is] to just to find out what it is saying & discern how it can apply to our lives. The parable was about getting our lives ready for Jesus 2nd coming – being prepared for that event – it was not intended to teach a lesson on justice and mercy. We must make sure we present our interpretations of scripture in the light of their context! Since it did not have exactly what we needed to say on the renew theme, we had to take the story & change it. God tells us in the Book of Revelation that we must not add to or take from His word – in doing that, there is no way we can find the truth & preach on it.
   “Sorry for this sermon, Pat! I care deeply about you & our community, & I know we all long for the truth of god’s word. Let’s keep reading, studying & trying! He’s got lots for us in there!
   “The other result I want to mention is the whole heaven/hell/purgatory thing. That is such an important topic – it really should be preached on by itself, backed up w/ scripture on what God says about them (I do not think there is any scriptural reference to purgatory, however!)”

To begin today’s reflection, I have no question for you. Instead, I merely want to say what I think might be a focus for the strange stories we heard in today’s readings. I believe our focus for today’s reflection should be about dedication and commitment. To start: can you put yourself in the position of the younger brothers in our two stories?

Our first reading from the Second Book of Maccabees is a rather gruesome one. Fortunately today’s reading was shortened to take out the gory parts. Nevertheless, can you imagine the anxiety of each succeeding brother, waiting for his turn with the king’s executioners? Although the first one had courage, I really believe that each of the younger ones had to summon up even more courage. And their mother too.

In the second story about another seven brothers, some might find a strange kind of humor: especially if you enjoy reading books by Stephen King. Can you imagine the thoughts of the younger brothers as each one married the widow left by the brother before him?

But what is the point of both tales? I believe they tell us something of the Jewish views on dedication and commitment to the Laws of God. The seven brothers in Maccabees died because they refused to break the Hebrew dietary law on not eating pork. The seven brothers in our gospel story died because they followed the kinship law whereby a man was to marry an older brother’s widow if he died without a son so that children could be raised with the dead man’s name and rights of inheritance.

Fortunately, few of us are called to this kind of dedication and commitment, although there are places in the world, in Latin America and in Africa, where Christians are called upon to die because of their beliefs. For the rest of us, there are different kinds of dedication and commitment. I thought of these other forms of dedication and commitment when I prayed and meditated on today’s readings for this homily.

This weekend, here at Christ the Good Shepherd, there are several public examples of our call to be dedicated and committed members of our faith community. Yesterday morning we celebrated a funeral mass for Joe Hughes who was deeply involved in the life of this parish. Later in the day, we celebrated the 5:30 mass in honor of Mary Ann Malone. Mary Ann was the first staff member at Good Shepherd, almost twelve years ago. Without her, we would have been an entirely different community. Mary Ann is now moving to North Texas with her husband, Terry, who has a new job there. Both Mary Ann and Terry have been examples of dedication and commitment to all of us here; they will be dearly missed.

This morning, we have two other examples of dedication and commitment. At the 10:45 mass, we have the “Rite of Acceptance into the Order of Catechumens” for those who seek Baptism and entrance into our community next Easter and the “Rite of Welcoming” for those who have been baptized and are continuing their journey of faith in expectation of becoming full members of our community at the next Easter Vigil service. These nineteen men and women are individual examples of dedication and commitment.

At the 12:30 mass this afternoon, we will witness still another form of dedication and commitment as we celebrate infant Baptisms during the liturgy. The parents of these children will be making commitments on behalf of their young ones. They will also be dedicating themselves to being Christian mothers and fathers.

There are other examples of dedication and commitment today in Baltimore, Maryland. This morning as they conclude their week-long meeting, the bishops of the United States are gathering for a mass which celebrates the Bicentennial of the American Catholic Church. We don’t often recall our American Catholic heritage. So it would be appropriate, I believe, to reflect for a moment on our history.

Two hundred years ago, Catholics in the newly formed United States were part of a missionary church under the direction of the Catholic bishop located in London. Realizing this situation could not continue, the priests in the U.S. petitioned Rome for something quite out of the ordinary. In the spirit of our new democracy, they wanted to elect a bishop for their new country. The Vatican agreed to this and an assembly of American priests meeting in Rome elected John Carroll as bishop of the diocese of Baltimore, a diocese which incorporated the entire Thirteen States. In a document dated November 6, 1789, pope Pius VI confirmed their election and declared John Carroll as our first bishop.

Today, Catholics in the United States make up the largest Christian denomination in our nation. We have grown in the past two-hundred years from a mere three-thousand to a population in excess of fifty-four-million. Our American Catholic experience speaks of the dedication of not only the clergy in this country but more importantly, it speaks of the commitment of all of the people of God.

Elsewhere in the world we have recently had magnificent examples of what can happen when people are dedicated and committed to the cause of freedom. The people of Poland, Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, the people of Hungary, Czechoslovakia and Bulgaria and especially the people of East and West Germany have seen many political walls come tumbling down within the last few weeks and days. On this Veterans Day weekend, we recall those in our own country who have also died for the sake of freedom.

However, each one of us has a personal dedication and commitment. There have been causes to die for, and causes to live for. Today in the United States we are not called upon to die for our faith as were the fourteen brothers in this morning’s readings. However, we are called upon to live for our faith. As Jesus reminded the Sadducees, our God is a God of the living not of the dead.

Just what did Jesus mean when he reminded them about Moses and the burning bush? It was this. God said that he is the God of Abraham, he is the God of Isaac, he “is” the God of Jacob. God did not say that he “was” the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. For God, the patriarchs still exist, they are not dead. It is for this reason that Jesus said that “God is not the God of the dead, but of the living. All are alive for him.“

In Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, he reminded them that “not everyone has faith. The Lord, however, keeps faith, he it is who will strengthen you and guard you against the evil one.” In other words, we are dedicated to God; but what is more important, God is committed to us, to our welfare.

Each one of us needs to determine to what we are dedicated, to what we are committed. When we consider personal areas of dedication or commitment our first thoughts often go to matters of careers. We talk about a person being dedicated or committed to a chosen profession. Others will as readily think about commitments to relationships, to marriage, to family.

Oftentimes, natural disasters lead us to reflect upon such matters as dedication and commitment. In the past month we have had more than our usual share of such events: what with Hugo, the San Francisco earthquake and the Phillips explosion and fire. All of these events have been part of my prayers and thoughts when I began to focus on dedication and commitment for today’s reflection.

Many who live in the quake area had their homes completely destroyed. For others, the damage was so severe that they could not return to their homes. For some, they were allowed to enter the wreckage of their homes for only fifteen minutes, during which they were to gather up life-long possessions and memories, never to return. These people had to examine their life-long dedications and commitments. They needed to look closely at their relationships and their possessions to determine their importance.

When I began this reflection, I did not have a question for you. But so some of you won’t be disappointed, I have one for you now. It’s this: “You have fifteen minutes to take whatever you want from your home; what will it be?” And recall what Jesus said: “Remember, where your treasure is, your heart is also.” And I might add: Where your heart resides, you will find your dedication and your commitment.

Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time; November 12, 1989
2 Mc 7:1-2, 9-14; 2 Thess 2:16-3, 5; Lk 20:27-38

Today’s question is for movie buffs or those who watch television. My question is this: What is your favorite way to destroy the world? Or what’s your favorite movie about how the world will end? Hollywood has a variety of options for you to choose from. Meteors and asteroids colliding with the earth were in vogue for a while. Now there seems to be a focus not on things from outer space but rather, global destruction resulting from what we humans have done, or failed to do, regarding our environment. Ice storms and floods seem to be “in” now days.

There are also symbols of destruction to consider. The Statue of Liberty has been big, ever since the making of “The Planet of the Apes.” Of course, besides natural disasters, there is also planetary destruction by alien invaders from space. The ones in “Independence Day” got rid of more monuments than just the Statue of Liberty.

For the Israelites the major symbolic monument has always been the temple in Jerusalem. It had been destroyed several times by invading armies. And each time, the original Temple of Solomon was rebuilt on even a grander scale. In today’s gospel reading, the disciples of Jesus were very impressed by the majesty of the temple in its construction of huge stones and magnificent decorations. But Jesus said that it, too, would be destroyed.

He began with specifics about the temple. After his death and resurrection, as his disciples awaited his return and the end of the physical world as they knew it, they began to interpret his words in a broader sense: as a prediction of the signs portending the destruction of the entire world and not just the Temple of Solomon. Christians, ever since, have been asking the same question: how will it be known when the world will end? In our collective mind, there appears to be the corollary concern: if only we knew when the world will end, we could prepare ourselves for its destruction. It’s not unlike the unstated question many individuals have: if only I knew when I was going to die, I could prepare for it by changing my life just before it happens. In the meantime, it’s business as usual.

The answer given by Jesus to his disciples about the destruction of the temple was simple. Although there will be signs, only God the Father knows the actual time of the event. This specific response has not stopped future Christians from wondering and predicting, themselves, when the world will end. They have done this in each age for the past two thousand years.

Throughout the centuries we have seen the signs given by Christ, who said: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky.” And yet, the final days have not arrived. Thus far, no one has been “left behind.” Nevertheless, we experience the signs. We continue to experience destruction after destruction. So, the question may well be not “when” but rather, “how do we respond to the destructions we experience? How do we live daily with the knowledge that today may be the last day of our lives on this planet – as an individual person or as a people?”

Perhaps one response might be given through an observation of ruined monuments. Have you ever visited the ruins of a great building? In our travels, Karen and I have had the good fortune to see where castles and cathedrals once stood. And as impressive as the ruins might be, or as magnificent as they once were as seen by the eyes of our imagination, I, personally, have found my greatest awe in another sight: in the glimpse of flowers growing among the rocks, sometimes, seemingly, from the very rock itself. What I see is not only the edifice which once soared above me or the present ruins before me but also, and most importantly, the hope, the expectation of new life.

Each of us as individuals, or as members of a particular community or nation, experience destruction in our lives. Radical events happen over which we have no control. We could wish for a prediction of what might occur so we could prepare ourselves for the event that will destroy our previous lives. But we receive no such predictions. All we can do is look for the flowers in the ruins of our lives. All we can do is nurture their growth.

I began a few minutes ago by recalling movies and TV programs about the destruction of the world. Although I can be momentarily entertained by such programs, they are not really my favorites. I, myself, prefer watching “American Dreams” or “Joan of Arcadia.” At present I’m hooked on “Lost.” In these presentations, there is always the potential for harm, for major changes, for destruction. But there is also the potential for hope. For a better tomorrow. With the expectation that each episode will end on a positive note. That life, itself, has meaning.

In our first reading from the book of the prophet Malachi, we heard of the destruction of the world by a blazing fire. However, for those who trust in the Lord God, Malachi said that rather than a blazing consummation, “There will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays.”

In the final line of today’s gospel, we heard the words of Jesus: “By your perseverance you will secure your lives.” Yes, there will be a destruction, a falling apart of what we have and what we want on this earth. Yet, as followers of Jesus the Christ, we also know that with perseverance and hope, we will experience an everlasting life with him. Our ultimate focus is not on the monuments of earth but upon the banquet of heaven.

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary time; November 14, 2004
Mal 3:19-20a; 2 Thes 3:7-12; Lk 21:5-19

As you can see by looking around, this is a very special weekend for many of our children.¹ In a few minutes they will be receiving the body and blood of Jesus for the very first time. Since this mass is for them, we have even used the readings taken from the Lectionary for Children so that they might have a better chance of understanding what we are hearing about our Lord today.

The readings for this weekend are also for a special day in our church year. Today we celebrate the “Feast of Christ the King.” This celebration marks the end of the church year. Next Sunday is the First Sunday of the Advent season. Four weeks later we’ll celebrate the “Feast of Christmas.” So, today, as you children look forward to receiving your first communion, you are also asked to think about Christ the King and to prepare for the coming of the Christ-Child.

As usual, I have some questions for you. First of all, did you listen to that first reading we heard today? Did you hear how all of the leaders of Israel gathered around David? And who was David? What did he do when he was still a teenager?

Yes, he killed the giant Goliath and saved his people. And later, when King Saul died, David became king of the Israelites. So now, all of his friends gathered around him. And what did they do? They poured olive oil on his head! The reading says that they did this to show that he was now the king of Israel.

Well, what do you think of that? Would you like to have olive oil poured on your head? Well, I know for a fact, that you did have olive oil poured on your head, even if you don’t remember it. Do you know when that was?

Yes, when you were baptized. Right after the water of Baptism was poured on your head, the priest or deacon smeared the top of your head with olive oil. It was holy oil and it was to remind all of your relatives and the friends of your family who were there that day, to remind them that you were baptized as “priest, prophet, and king.”

There’s a fancy word for that kind of pouring of olive oil on your head. We say that you were “anointed.” And there are two other fancy words that mean the same thing. One of them is in Hebrew and the other one is in Greek. Do you know what the Hebrew word for “anointed” is? Yes, it’s “Messiah.” And the Greek word for “anointed” is “Christos” … or “Christ.” So, we say that Jesus is the “Messiah” or the “Christ,” the “anointed one of God.” Or we can call him: Christ the King, the anointed king.

Now then, do you know of any other kings? I bet that when I say “king,” a lot of you immediately think of “Burger King.” And then there is “King Kong.” Or maybe you remember stories about King Arthur. Did you see that movie on TV a couple weeks ago with Whoopie Goldberg? Times do change, because many of your grandparents probably remember the movie version. Back in 1949 there was a movie called “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” that starred Bing Crosby. Father Bill might recall the version with Will Rogers and Maureen O’Sullivan. And no, it wasn’t a silent movie. (1931)

Anyway, King Arthur is more of the kind of king I have in mind. Because at one time in history, kings were very important. They were a lot more important than they are now. Over the years they seem to have gotten a bum rap. Except maybe for King Arthur. Back then, the idea was that the king was to be the major protector of the people. He had to defend his people against attacks from enemies. And when he wasn’t protecting them from outsiders, he was supposed to defend the innocent … or be a friend to the poor. Kings back then were supposed to be the best of all possible leaders.

So when we talk about Christ the King, that’s the kind of king we mean. But in our Gospel Reading we heard about “Christ the King” in a somewhat different way. When the Roman soldiers nailed Jesus to the cross, they made fun of him. Above his head they also nailed a sign that said: “this is the king of the Jews.” And one of the men who was being crucified along side of Jesus insulted him even further by saying: “If you’re really the king of the jews, if you are really the messiah, the anointed one of God, then why don’t you save yourself and us, too?”

But the second criminal hanging on the other cross, he believed that Jesus really was the anointed one and he said to Jesus: “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” In response, Jesus promised him that they would, indeed, be together in that kingdom that very day.

And you know, Jesus makes that same promise to each one of us. He promises that you, too, will enter into his kingdom. You began that journey into God’s kingdom several years ago. You took the first step at the moment you were baptized, although at the time, you probably weren’t actually walking. Most of you began your journey into the kingdom by being carried to those baptismal waters by your parents.

But now you are being asked to continue that journey with your own steps. You walked into your first reconciliation. Right? And in a few moments, you will step up to this altar and receive your first communion. In a few years, you will also walk before our bishop to receive holy oil a second time, when you are confirmed.

In our First Reading about King David, we also heard how he made an “agreement” with the leaders and how he asked the Lord to be their witness to that agreement. Well, in the Lectionary for adults, that word “agreement” is translated as “covenant,” which is the word for a special kind of agreement that God makes with us. It’s that kind of agreement your mother and father made with one another when they got married. And someday perhaps you, too, will make that covenant agreement with someone you love very much. Or maybe some of you may have another special anointing when oil is poured on your hands and you become a priest.

But there is also another time for pouring olive oil on you. It happens to those who receive the sacrament of the sick as was done here at this altar several weeks ago. And finally, there is the last time that holy oil is used, when it’s part of the final anointing, a time for the sacrament once called “Extreme Unction,” the last anointing.

And so it is that there are many opportunities in your life when you may have olive oil poured on you to remind you that, in Christ and with the Holy Spirit, you have been anointed as “priest, prophet and king” just as David was, just as Jesus was. And each time you will be strengthened, once more, for the journey into God’s kingdom. But you don’t have to wait to receive olive oil in order to be strengthened.

Today, in a few minutes, you will be given the first of many times when you can gain the strength of Jesus. You can be nourished with holy food every day of the week, if you want to. You can get the power of the Holy Spirit every Sunday for the rest of your life, if you want to. All you need to do is to continue to receive communion whenever you can. As Father Bill might say: “you can eat the breakfast of champions every day, if you want to.”

Today, the church throughout the world celebrates the Feast of Christ the King. Today the entire church remembers how Jesus is with us as our protector and leader. However, for many of us, we have another way to remember that Jesus, our Christ, is our protector and our leader. On the last Sunday of the church year, we might call him “Christ the King,” but every day, every time we come to this place to be with him, and to receive him in the Eucharist, in the communion bread and wine, we also recall that we journey with, and are under the protection of, “Christ, the Good Shepherd,” who calls each of you to journey with him in the company of your friends and relatives, as you continue on your way to the kingdom of God.

Thirty-fourth or Last Sunday in Ordinary Time (Christ the King); November 22, 1998
2 Sam 5:1-3; Col 1:12-20; Lk 23:25-43 (Children’s Lectionary)

1. This is a “children’s” homily, albeit it is really addressed to the adults in the congregation as well. The words, in many cases are “adult” words. However, should children also not be exposed to good, “adult” words? The opening paragraph was modified for the adult-only, early morning liturgy as follows: “This morning’s homily is a little different than what you might normally hear from me on the usual Sunday. This weekend at all of our masses … except for this one at 7:30, many of our children are receiving Communion for the first time. My homily was directed to them. And because I didn’t have the chance to work on two entirely different homilies, you may need to pretend that you are a child again, about to receive your First Holy Communion, which isn’t too bad a memory, I hope. It might even be a very good one: to recapture the excitement of that day.”

How many of you suffer from “Holiday Confusion?” Yes, that’s my question for you. “Holiday Confusion.” What is it? Well, it’s trying to decide just what time of the year it is. What’s the next holiday and what should you be doing to get ready for it? As Americans, we can’t just let it happen. We need to get ready to celebrate. We need to plan. Our lives are all about planning … planning for the future. Whether it’s – whose turn is it to take the kids to soccer practice – to who needs to take the car in for its maintenance schedule? Is there a family who doesn’t have a well-marked calendar hanging on the kitchen wall?

This year “Holiday Confusion” seems to be especially severe. Wasn’t it only last month that you were buying back-to-school clothes? And then, suddenly it was Halloween costumes. And even that was confusing … trying to find them among all of the Christmas decorations the stores put up in mid-October. Why can’t they wait until Thanksgiving … like they did in the good ol’ days … before they string up all those Christmas garlands?

And Thanksgiving. It was a lot earlier this year. And with 80-degree temperatures three or four days ago, who could really believe it was Thanksgiving we celebrated this past week? Maybe that cold front and a 50-degree day or two might help.

Even the liturgy adds to it. Why are we hearing about the Crucifixion in today’s gospel reading? Is it already Easter? What happened to Lent? Are you asking if you fell asleep like Rip van Winkle and several months passed without your knowing it? That’s what I mean by “Holiday Confusion.” Time speeds by much faster than it use to. And we wonder what we missed and what we still need to do.

But I assure you … there are at least 30 shopping days before Christmas. You still have time to go deeper into debt. The stores’ “black” Friday can still become your own “in-the-red” January. So if Christmas is the next major commercial holiday, what about today’s gospel reading with Jesus on the cross?

Well just as stores get ready for commercial holidays, we need time to prepare for the religious holy day … the real reason for the celebration. Next weekend is the first Sunday of Advent … that time when we prepare for the coming of Christ. When we prepare not only for the celebration of his birth some two thousand years ago, but also for his Second Coming at the end of time as we know it … an event which can occur at any moment.

This weekend we celebrate the last Sunday of the Liturgical Year. During November we’ve turned our thoughts and prayers to those who have gone before us. We began the month with the twin feasts of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. We have entered the names of departed loved ones into our Book of Life to help us remember them in our prayers. Today, at the end of November, at the conclusion of the Church’s year, we celebrate the feast of “Our Lord Jesus Christ the King.”

“Christ the King.” This is a strange kind of King we honor this weekend. He may even be a Confusing King. One who is part and parcel of our Holiday Confusion.
● He is a King who was tortured and suffered. One who was put to death as a traitorous criminal. Who died on a cross.
● He is a King who was born into poverty. One whose parents were fugitives from authority and had to immigrate to a foreign land.
● He was a King who could not return to the town of his birth but lived his life as the son of a carpenter in a village miles away from the capital city, the city where a King should dwell.

It was some thirty years later that this King … after wandering the countryside as a preacher … entered that capital city, where he was tried, condemned and died on a cross. It was also in this city, Jerusalem, that he rose from the dead and later ascended, according to some of his followers, into heaven.

Another condemned criminal who hung beside him there on the hill overlooking the city, spoke words of ridicule. However, another condemned companion spoke a request: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And the crucified King replied: “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Indeed, we do have a confusing King to join with our Holiday Confusion. Many of those who followed this King, expected one who was more like King David, the king we heard about in our reading from the First Book of Samuel. Here was the anointed king of Israel who joined the Twelve Tribes into a nation, a people to be dealt with. Instead of being a heroic leader who restored his people to a position of earthly power, this Resurrected King was one described by Saint Paul with the words: “He is [the beloved Son of God, the Father,] in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”

Saint Paul went on to proclaim: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible … He is the head of the body, the church. … “

Today, in a time long removed from the Age of Kings, we may find it difficult to comprehend the reality of today’s feast day: “Our Lord Jesus Christ the King.” We know everything we can about mere human celebrities whether they are movie stars who misbehave … or athletes who receive millions of dollars and squander their fortunes. Yes, our modern kings, our role models, have become tarnished.

In our secular world, our leaders seem to exist more for our amusement and entertainment than for their roles as “models for leadership.” They are ridiculed … not by condemned criminals … but by journalists, comedians and, at times, by the public-at-large.

And yet, there remains with us our one true King, one true Leader, one true Model. We, who are called Christians, continue to follow Christ, the Anointed One of God. We continue to recognize him as “Our Lord.” The one to whom we owe our allegiance, our loyalty and our love.

Here as we complete another liturgical year and are about to enter into a new one, we are reminded to put aside our Holiday Confusion, and to focus on this man who reconciles all things whether those on earth or those in heaven. And so, when each of us speaks the words: “Jesus, remember me,” we can hear his reply and his promise: “You will be with me in Paradise.”

Our Lord Jesus Christ the King; November 25, 2007
2 Sam 5:1-3; Col 1:12-20; Lk 23:35-43

This evening we are called upon to reflect on two women who have had more of an influence on humanity than any other woman in the world. Two women who are vastly different, yet who have something very much in common.

Today, on the feast of the Immaculate Conception, we celebrate the belief that Mary, the mother of Jesus, was herself, conceived without original sin: that she had a special grace given by God from the moment she was called into being. What we sometimes forget is that Eve – and Adam – had that same gift! Adam and Eve were created without original sin. They were gifted directly with God’s grace. Recall how Genesis says God created them and it was good.

But what happened? What is the difference between Mary and that first woman, Eve? We have two women. Both grace-filled from the moment of their creation. And each one was visited by a divine messenger, an angel. Don’t forget the tradition that Satan, or Lucifer, was a fallen angel. So here we have Eve visited by Satan in the form of a serpent; and Mary being visited by the angel Gabriel. Both women were offered an extraordinary opportunity by their messengers, but with a significantly different outcome.

Consider how Eve was tempted by Satan to become like God; while Mary was invited by Gabriel to become the mother of the Son of God! Upon these two occasions, both women were frightened. Who can blame them!? But how they responded within their fear, makes the difference; for them and for us.

When Eve was asked the question: “Did you do this?” her immediate reaction was denial: “I was tricked! I didn’t want to do it; but I was forced to do it.” The question put to Mary was slightly different: “Will you do this? Will you bear the Son of God?” Her response was far from being a denial when she replied: “I am the servant of the lord. Let it be done to me as you say.”

What do these two women have to say to us this evening? What meaning can be drawn in our lives from theirs? Two women who had the grace of God, a grace like that which we receive through our own baptism. A grace which comes from God and calls us to God. Yet, both Eve and Mary had free will: the ability to deny responsibility and to blame others, as well as the ability to accept responsibility. And that is the difference between their responses to the temptation by Satan and the invitation by Gabriel.

In one case, Eve denied her responsibility and turned away from God. She said “yes” to the temptation. She denied her responsibility by saying “no,” it was not her fault. And by doing that, she turned away from God. Have you ever wondered what might have happened if Eve had said to God, “Yes, Yahweh, I did take the forbidden fruit, but please forgive me.”

Then there is Mary, who accepted her responsibility and turned towards God. On the other hand, what if Mary had said: “No, I will not accept this so-called favor you offer.” Or “Yes, I’ll do it, but only if the throne of David is under my control.”

This is the message I see in today’s readings: each moment I am both tempted and invited. I can either deny or accept. I can blame others for my errors or I can accept my faults and ask for God’s forgiveness. I can either walk away from my God or walk towards him. The choice is mine – and yours. Is today your day to be tempted by Satan or invited by Gabriel?

Immaculate Conception; December 8, 1987
Gn 3:9-15, 20; Eph 1:3-6, 11-12; Lk 1:26-38