Category: Homilies

When was the last time you saw Jesus coming toward you? That’s my question for you today. When was the last time you saw Jesus coming toward you? And yes, my question is based on today’s Gospel reading from John the Evangelist who tells us about an encounter between John the Baptist and Jesus. It begins with the line, “John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and said, ‘Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.’”

For some people, this may seem to be a strange way either for John the Baptist or for John the Evangelist to speak about Jesus. So, maybe I need to elaborate a bit. John the Evangelist often wrote about Jesus as the “Lamb of God.” Here John, the gospel writer, has John the Baptist using these words. At the end of his Gospel, he also has the Death of Jesus begin on the day for the slaughter of the Passover lambs. John the Evangelist seems to suggest Jesus, himself, is the Passover lamb about to be slaughtered.

In many places in the Book of Revelation, which is also attributed to John the Evangelist, there are references to the “Lamb of God.” You may have seen paintings of the Lamb of God. They’re the ones in which a lamb holds a flag or banner with the emblem of the cross on it. So, what does this symbol mean, this image of Jesus the Christ as the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world?

It goes back, of course, to the early days of the Israelites, the days of holocausts and sacrifices, the days of making burnt offerings to the Lord God, offerings so that the Lord God would remove the sins of the people. In the very earliest days, the offerings were probably human sacrifices. A sacrifice is, after all, an action which makes something holy. Our ancient ancestors thought: what better way is there to make the people holy, than offering up to their god one of themselves. Perhaps, the best offering would be one’s own child, a son or daughter. This is what Abraham thought those millennia ago when he was willing to offer up his son, Isaac, to the Lord God.

And when he was about to make this sacrifice, what did God say to Abraham? He said it was sufficient for Abraham to show his faith and trust in the Lord God merely by being willing to sacrifice his son, Isaac. God went on to say, instead of offering up Isaac, it would be enough for Abraham to offer up a lamb which God provided to him. Some say this event marks the change in our ancestral slaughter of children to that of animals for sacrificial purposes.

The Hebrews continued to offer animal sacrifices each year in the Temple in Jerusalem. The major time for these sacrifices occurred at the annual Passover, when they commemorated the first time the blood of lambs was placed above the doors of their homes so that the Angel of Death would “pass over” them in the destruction of the Egyptians which preceded the Exodus. And so, the Lamb became associated with Abraham and Isaac and with the Passover, with a sacrifice pleasing to God.

And so it was, for John the Evangelist and the early Christians, Jesus became associated as the Lamb of God, the one who takes away the sins of the world. Jesus became the perfect sacrifice, the sacrifice through which all of us would be made holy, so that our sins would be forgiven in order for us to be reunited with the Lord God.

The Jews and Jewish Christians recognized humanity had been separated from God in an extraordinary way, in an event known as the Fall of Adam and Eve. Only another extraordinary event would be sufficient for re-union to occur. For Christians, this extraordinary event was the Suffering, Death and Resurrection of Jesus the Christ, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, the Pascal Mystery through which all people are re-united with God.

We celebrate this extraordinary event every week, actually, for many, every day of the week. Some call it “the sacrifice of the Mass,” others “the Eucharistic Liturgy.” With either term, we focus on Communion. Communion with God, as a result of the saving action of the once-and-forever sacrifice of Jesus the Christ, and the on-going commemoration of this sacrifice. Communion in the form of Eucharist, the on-going Thanksgiving, we offer, because of the sacrifice of Jesus the Christ, who, through his Coming, made us worthy to be re-united with God, both upon our death and upon the day of our final judgement and the Second Coming of the Lamb of God, the Agnus Dei.

At each of our celebrations, we utter those words spoken by John the Baptist, as written by John the Evangelist, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” And we respond with words similar to those of a centurion who asked Jesus to heal his servant when we say, “Lord, I am not worthy, but only say the word and I shall be healed.”

I began a few minutes ago by asking you, “When was the last time you saw Jesus coming toward you?” For some, the answer might be, “the last time I received Communion.” And the answer would be correct. However, we need to recall that with our Communion, we re-enforce the fact we, ourselves, are the body of Christ. As we receive Eucharist, we are to become Eucharist. Although we behold the Lamb of God as we gaze upon the elevated Host, we also see him in those around us, in all who receive Christ and transmit him to others.

We see Christ in all those who suffer the devastation of a rushing mountain of water or of mud. We see Christ in all those who bring comfort and aid to those who are victims of natural disasters. We, also, must recognize that, although many thousands can become victims within a matter of minutes, there are also “slow motion” disasters claiming, over an extended time, their own hundreds of thousands of deaths. Although we rush to aid victims of a tsunami in Southeast Asia, we must not forget those who die from mal-nutrition, AIDS, or other infectious diseases in Oceania or Africa on a daily basis throughout the entire year. They, too, number in the hundreds of thousands. A tragedy should not be measured only in terms of how rapidly it occurs, but in the fact that suffering comes in many sizes, with varying speeds, and all who suffer need our assistance to find their daily bread.

We are reminded of the promise God made to the prophet Isaiah in our First Reading: “I will make you a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” The Lamb of God brings us Salvation. We are called, each and every day, to be the Light sent forth so that this Salvation may, indeed, reach to the ends of the earth.

^{2nd Sunday in Ordinary; January 16, 2005
Is 49:3, 5-6; 1 Cor 1:1-3; Jn 1:29-34}

Today’s question is about unemployment. Yes, this continues to be a major issue as we begin a new year. So, I thought I might ask you a question about jobs. You don’t need to answer it out loud, but I’d like for you to consider it over the next few minutes. The question is this: If you were offered the job of “servant,” would you accept the position? Yes, if you were unemployed, would you accept the job of being a “servant?” How about if you were already employed in a decent job, would you give it up to become a “servant?”

My guess is not many would seek employment in this field. Being a servant doesn’t seem to be on the career path for most people. And yet, a major area of employment today is that of the so-called “service industry.” Many of us are called to be of service to others on a day-by-day basis. However, some of us work from nine-to-five as “employees.” We may be called to serve others, but we seldom really want to do this. Instead of helping the client, some focus on their own needs and desires. And that is not what a true servant does.

A true servant is called upon to satisfy the needs and desires of another person, not their own comforts. These may be the needs and desires of a master, as in bygone days. Or they may be the needs of a customer who wants help in finding a product hidden among the shelves of a department store, or of clients who require aid in addressing specific problems in their lives.

Yes, a servant, or any person providing a service, is supposed to put someone else ahead of one’s own self. On the other hand, a servant is not a slave. A slave is forced to provide the required work. A servant freely chooses to serve the needs of another person. Which brings us to a consideration of our first reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah.

The Lord spoke to Isaiah, saying, “You are my servant.” The Lord did not say, “You are my slave.” Nor did the Lord say, “You are my sales associate.” Isaiah was not called upon to serve the Lord either as an unfree slave, or as a coequal associate. Rather, Isaiah was to address the desires of the Lord, even without the Lord needing to command specific actions. Isaiah was to help the Lord in leading the tribes of Jacob and of Israel back to the Lord. But the desires of the Lord God went even further. Isaiah was to be more than a servant. He was to be “a light to the nations . . . [so that the Lord’s] salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” The Lord God did not limit himself to the Jews as his chosen people. Rather, his salvation was “ … to reach to the ends of the earth.”

Centuries later, Saint Paul, writing to Christ’s followers in the city of Corinth, greeted them with similar words when he wrote, “… to you who have been sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be holy, with all those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours. Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” Yes, Paul addressed his words to everyone who are servants of our Lord Jesus Christ, no matter where they may be. He called for the Grace and Peace of the Father and of the Son to be granted to all Christians.

And some two-thousand years later, all of us are invited to follow these words. This week from Tuesday, January 18 through the following Monday, January 25, our Archbishop has joined with all other Christians in the annual celebration of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. This call for prayers for Christian Unity includes all of us.

It’s also fitting that this afternoon, at 3:00 p.m., Cardinal DiNardo will be celebrating in the co-cathedral a Mass of Remembrance for Dr. Martin Luther King Junior, whose life we honor with Monday’s national holiday. Here, in Dr. King, we have a fellow Christian who knew the meaning of being a servant, of attending to the needs of his own community as well as extending his ministry to others in search of a unity of all people.

Last Sunday, we celebrated the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord. Today, we begin the weeks between Christmastide and Lent. We begin this new period in Ordinary Time with another look at the Baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist. In today’s gospel we heard how John called Jesus, “… the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world … [the one] who will baptize with the Holy Spirit … [the one] who is the Son of God.” Here we have the image of the Lamb who is to be sacrificed, whose life is given up so that sins may be removed, a suffering servant who seeks the welfare of others. The one who is the son of the Master and the Master, himself. The one who becomes the servant of all.

In an imitation of the baptism of Christ, himself, in our own baptism each one of us is called upon to become a priest, prophet and king. And yet, a special kind of king. A king who protects. A king who serves.

Once-upon-a-time, we were familiar with service-stations, places where we could not only have others fill our gas tanks for us but, also, offer to check our battery and clean our windshields. But now it’s all self-service. No longer do we serve others, now we serve ourselves.

Once our neighborhoods and our towns were service communities where each person offered care and concern to others both near and far. Longing for such unity, for such oneness of concern, there are those who, once more, try to be of service to others. To offer personal care and concern to all who seek our help and, even, to those too tired or afraid to speak out for assistance.

A few minutes ago, I asked how many of you might be willing to become a servant. The question is still an open one for your consideration. In times of tragedy, many people come to the aid of others. Whether in Tucson, Arizona or on an island devastated by earthquake, hurricane and disease, there are many servants, those who offer assistance freely for the sake of those needing ministry, rather than for their own glorification. However, servant-hood is also needed even in the ordinary times of the year. Servants of the Lord are needed each and every day.

The motto of St Ignatius of Loyola was to do everything “for the greater glory of God.” Perhaps each one of us can take up as our guiding principle, the words we heard today from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah, “The Lord said to me: You are my servant … through whom I show my glory … and my God is now my strength!”

^{2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time; January 16, 2011;
(1/17/11 is MLK holiday) also Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (1/18 – 1/25/11)
Is 49:3, 5-6; 1 Cor 1:1-3; Jn 1:29-34}

Today’s questions may not be for everyone. Some of you may need to answer “no.” But that’s ok. First of all, do you own an aquarium? Do you have one in your home, or in the place where you work? If you don’t own one, do you still enjoy watching fish swim in one? Some people even have a screen saver that turns their computer monitor into a miniature fish tank. A lot of people find it relaxing to watch fish swimming by.

I don’t own an aquarium, but recently I was waiting in my internist’s office for an annual check up, and, of course, being there on time, I had only about an hour to wait for him to see me. Fortunately, he has a great aquarium in his waiting room and, so, I spent the time watching his fish. The first thing I noticed was their diversity, not only in their colors, but also in their actions. There was a stationary floater who didn’t move anything but its gills. It remained completely passive to the rapid motion of those fish darting elsewhere and everywhere. Several were nibbling at something special on the bottom of the tank, tossing up pebbles as they browsed. A few were hiding among the rocks, keeping well out of the action. Others continued to swim, but ignored the remaining fish, except when there was about to be a confrontation and then they veered off in a new direction.

I began to think there are people who act like fish. Some of us are stationary floaters who watch life going by and do not enter actively into it. Others are overly active and dart around in life just to be on the move. Some browse with our nose in the dirt and don’t see what is above us. Others of us keep on going in our own active direction until we meet up with a confrontation.

As you have no doubt already guessed, these reflections about fish lead directly to thoughts about Peter, the “big fisherman” we heard about in today’s Gospel reading. Peter did not have an aquarium in his house, but he knew a lot about fish. A few years ago, Karen and I, and several others from Christ the Good Shepherd, had the marvelous opportunity to visit Capernaum and see the archeological remains of what is known as “Peter’s House.” Capernaum is at the top of a hill, with the sea of Galilee at its base. Within a stone’s throw of Peter’s house are the remains of a synagogue which was built a few years after the time of Jesus, but probably sits on the ruins of an older one.

It was there in Capernaum that Jesus stayed between his preaching and healing journeys to the inhabitants of Galilee. It was there, at the foot of the hill, there on the seashore that Jesus met Peter and his brother, Andrew. The two brothers knew all about fish. It was their business to know about them. Every day, they went out in their boat and cast their nets into the sea. But today was different. Today, Jesus called to them to come and follow him. No longer were they to be fishermen. Now they were to be fishers of men.

In this seaside village there were other fishermen. Jesus met two more of them, James and his brother, John. They, too, had spent their entire lives working with their father Zebedee in the family business. Jesus called to them also. Jesus invited these four men to become his disciples, his followers. Have you ever wondered at what a strange event this is, the calling of the first disciples? It’s strange for several reasons. First of all, this is a reversal of the normal relationship between master and disciples. Under normal conditions, back in those days, a man chose the master he wished to follow. The disciple-to-be, on his own accord, sought out the master from whom he wanted to learn about a new life. But in today’s events, it was the master who chose the disciples. As it is said elsewhere by Jesus, “You have not chosen me; I have chosen you.”

And whom did Jesus choose? This, too, is a strange part of the events there on the shore of Galilee. He did not choose a scribe or a scholar of the Hebrew law. He did not choose someone who is rich or famous or idle and had nothing better to do. He chose four, hard-working, self-employed fishermen who had families to take care of. In the case of Peter, he had to worry even about his mother-in-law who lived with him. For James and John, there was their father Zebedee whom they left behind to follow this preacher. Which brings us to another strange part of this event.

In the case of all four fishermen, they “immediately” left what they were doing in order to follow this man who called them. Have you ever wondered about old Zebedee? One minute he’s working with his sons, just as he had every day ever since they were strong enough to help cast the nets into the sea and haul out the fish. He hoped, no doubt, that the family business would go to them when he died. And here they were, running off with this itinerant preacher.

And what about Peter? Did he hate being a fisherman and, therefore, was willing to give up his former life in an instant to become a disciple of Jesus? We know from other Gospel stories this is not the case. When he thought Jesus was gone for good, Peter took his fishermen friends back to the Sea of Galilee where he, no doubt, thought he would return to the life he had left behind. But that was not the case. Jesus had called Peter and Andrew, and James and John, to follow him for the rest of their lives.

Jesus continues to make the same invitation to each one of us. He calls us to follow him for the rest of our lives. Often our response is: “well, ok, but not right now. Give me a chance to think it over. There’s a lot left for me to do before I can follow you. I still need to devote time to my family, even to my mother-in-law. There is still the business to run, my daily obligations to fulfill. I’ll start to follow you next week, or next year, or sometime before I die.”

Some put off following Jesus the Christ because they think they must give up everything, all the essentials of life. But Jesus did not ask Peter and the others to do that. Jesus invited them to become fishers of others, rather than fishers of fish. They were called to continue to do what they had been raised to do, but, now, they had a new goal. They were able to respond so immediately because they had been preparing all of their lives to hear the call and respond to it.

Peter, no doubt for many years, had been part of that synagogue a stone’s throw from his doorstep. He had heard the prophecies about the Messiah. He was open to the call of this new preacher and he was prepared to follow him. All it took was a single event, a single response, for him to begin his new life. All it takes for us may be a single event, a single response, to see what we have been doing has, in fact, been preparing us to be open to the invitation of Jesus.

We have two choices. First of all, we can be like fish trapped in an aquarium. We can float through life, without moving anything but our gills, merely existing. We can dart around with meaningless purpose. We can keep our heads down and nibble on the things which sink to the bottom. We can hide among the rocks and pretend no one knows we are there. We can ignore others until there is a sudden confrontation.

Yes, we can be fish. Or we can be fishers. We can cast our nets into the sea of life and bring out, not trapped fish, but our live brothers and sisters. Our livelihood, our being alive, can change so that we are more completely alive. We, too, can hear the words Jesus proclaimed in today’s good news: “repent … change your lives … for the Kingdom of God is at hand.”

^{3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time; January 24, 1999
Is 8:23-9:3; 1 Cor 1:10-13,17; mt 4:12-23}

For a handful of people, this Sunday is the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, but for most people in the US, this Sunday has a very different name. What do you call this Sunday? Yes, it’s Super Bowl Sunday. How many of you are excited about today’s game? Some of you might think this is my usual question of the day, but it’s not. My real question, and you don’t have to answer it out loud, is: Do you see life as a contest, one that has to be resolved quickly, like in a football game? In this game called life, are you anxious to find out who are the winners and who are the losers? Do you have the patience to wait it out? And what do you do during the commercials?

Life does have commercials, those times when nothing important to the continuation of the story, or of the game, seems to be happening. A time-out when the volume gets turned up by the broadcasters and we, the viewers, hit the mute button or walk away to do something more important. Except, maybe on Super Bowl Sunday when they try to make the commercials as much fun to watch as the game, itself. Advertisers recognize we always need to be doing or seeing something interesting.

It’s hard to just sit back and wait for something to happen. (Have you ever noticed how red lights are longer than green lights?) When we wait, we want time to pass quickly, so we can get to the results, or can get to the “good” part. Very few of us exhibit the virtue called patience. Yet, this may be what Jesus was trying to teach the crowds and the disciples gathered around him there on the mountain.

The readings we heard today deal with two balancing acts, our need to balance instant gratification with delayed gratification. And secondly, our need to balance passive waiting with active waiting. These readings also deal with joy and happiness and, ultimately, with peace.

Each one of us wants joy and happiness. The problem is, when joy and happiness do not come fast enough, some people turn to quick solutions. They think the answer comes with alcohol or drugs. Some seek happiness in gambling. Some try to find joy by leaving their spouse for a new, supposedly more exciting partner. When we lack happiness, each of us seeks instant gratification.

We are taught to seek instant gratification at an early age. Kids want what they want, when they want it, and many parents accommodate them. It’s easier to give in, rather than to teach that sometimes it’s good to wait. Kids aren’t to blame for wanting instant happiness when they see adults seeking their own instant results.

Even our TV commercials promise instant results with each new, improved fast-acting product they sell. That’s why we buy them. Who wants a “slow-acting” pain reliever? Who wants to diet and exercise to lose weight when there are fast, no-sweat ways to get a beautiful body?

If there is no quick-fix solution, what is the alternative? If my life isn’t as happy and joy- filled as I want it to be, am I supposed to wait until I get to heaven where I will be rewarded for all the misery I’ve suffered here on earth? Some people hear the Beatitudes, the blessings Jesus, taught his followers there on the mountain, in this way:
● If you are sad now, you will be comforted in heaven
● If you are meek now, you will get everything later
● If you are merciful now, God will be merciful to you in the future.

But if they hear only this, they may lack an understanding of what Jesus was trying to teach his followers and us. These people may believe Jesus was in favor of a “passive” waiting, a passive waiting which will give us our final reward in heaven. Some people might try to console themselves, and relieve their own unhappiness in the here and now, by saying it will all be better when they die and go to heaven.

Perhaps, worse yet, some would use the Beatitudes of Jesus to justify the mistreatment of other, less fortunate people. They could say it’s O.K. for there to be homeless people in Houston or starving children in Africa, because when these unfortunate people die, they will be happy in heaven.

On the other hand, I believe a truer understanding of the Beatitudes calls for an “active” waiting, one in which we participate now, at this very moment, in the Reign of God. Those who lack a true understanding of the Beatitudes hear only the ”will be’s” in the list of the Beatitudes. They do not hear the opening blessing: “blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” They also fail to listen to the one which says: “blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

They often overlook that:
● The beatitudes are radical calls to action
● That they demand active patience and not passive patience
● That the beatitudes call us to be totally dependent upon God.

To be poor in spirit is to acknowledge that everything I have comes from God and I must depend entirely on God’s generosity, upon his gifts. At the same time, I need to acknowledge I’ve not always used his gifts wisely. I have hurt others by my actions and, as the prayer says: “by what I have failed to do.”

The Beatitudes call me
● To forgive and to seek forgiveness
● To be sorry for the wrongs I’ve done
● To be a peacemaker, to be active in bringing about reconciliation
● To be humble enough to recognize the world does not revolve around me
● To hunger and thirst not only for righteousness, but also for wholeness
● To give from my heart and not just because it is owed to someone.

I, also, need to understand that none of this will be easy. Jesus, himself, concluded with the reminder: “Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me.” Paul in his letter to the Corinthians, also, reminded the Corinthians, and us, that we cannot boast of our own, personal accomplishments, but instead we all “should boast in the Lord,” for it is from him we receive our gifts, our redemption, and it is on his behalf we should employ these gifts for the advancement of others.

We do not need to sit on our couch and watch the game of life being played by others. Our happiness, and the peace we ultimately seek, do not come from our idly standing around, merely waiting for the game to begin, or to continue after some sort of “commercial interruption.” Instead, our God urges us to be active players, not in some future, athletic super bowl, but in the present, existing Kingdom of Heaven.

^{Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time; January 29, 1990; February 3, 2002 (revised)
Zeph 2:3; 3:12-12; 1 Cor 1:26-31; Mt 5:1-12}

My question today is about snacks or, if you prefer, “junk food.” It’s a very simple question and doesn’t require much thought. It’s this: How many of you like pretzels? I admit I do. But that’s OK, because pretzels are really a “holy” food. There’s a legend about pretzels. According to some sources, pretzels were first made way back in the seventh century by a monk, probably a German monk! Anyway, this monk, who worked in the kitchen, took strips of leftover bread dough and twisted them into the shape of arms folded in prayer and gave them as little rewards to children who had learned to recite their prayers. Some say the word “pretzel” comes from the Latin word¹ for either “little reward“ or “little arms.” Either way, pretzels are like little arms folded in prayer. And so eating pretzels can be considered to be a religious experience.²

But that’s not why I like them. I don’t know about you, but I like them because of the salt. A pretzel without salt isn’t really a pretzel, it’s more like a stone! I mean do you really enjoy a “salt-free” pretzel? Of course, the problem now days is that everything is “salt-free.” If you listen to commercials and read news articles, it almost appears salt is a toxic chemical. Now I agree that people with hypertension, with high blood pressure, should watch their intake of salt, but unless we realize the importance of salt in our lives, our Gospel reading for today doesn’t make too much sense.

Back in the time of Jesus, salt was a very important part of the diet, especially for those who worked outside in the sunlight and lost a good deal of salt through sweat, or “perspiration,” if you prefer the term used in commercials we see on television. Anyway, salt was so important that Roman soldiers received an allocation of salt to be consumed so that they could replace the salt they lost when they were sweating under their leather uniforms. Later-on, these Roman soldiers received money so they could buy their own salt when it was needed. And the word for that “money for salt” was “salarium,” which became today’s word “salary.” Back then, it really meant something if you were “worth your salt.”

Two thousand years ago, they didn’t know why salt was so necessary for life. But the Romans and Jews did know that without salt they would die. At the same time, they recognized salt was not the food, itself, you could not live on a diet of salt alone. Salt was added to the food to make it palatable, and, in the long run, to allow the salt, itself, to be consumed. There aren’t too many people I know of who would eat a teaspoon of salt by itself.

The Romans and Jews also used salt for other purposes. They preserved food with it. Obviously, they didn’t have refrigerators. And blocks of ice were not available much of the year. So, they’d pickle both meats and vegetables. They would literally “salt away” their harvests for use during times of difficulty, when food would be scarce. Without such help provided by salt, they would not survive the winter months. So, for the Jews, salt not only added taste to bland food, it was also necessary for life itself, especially in difficult times.

And so it was Jesus said to his followers: “You are the salt of the earth. But what if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.” Salt was not the food, itself, but without salt, food would not be the same. Elsewhere, Jesus told his disciples he, himself, was the food come down from heaven. He was the living bread. Yet, what good is food without salt? It is the salt that makes the food able to be consumed. Salt preserves the food for times of difficulty. Perhaps, what Jesus was saying was: it is through your actions (through our actions) that the food of God’s life is made known to others. It is through our actions the food of God, the Word of God, is preserved for times of potential hunger, our own and that of our brothers and sisters.

The words of Jesus echo those we heard today from the prophet Isaiah: “Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own.” We are to use our God-given gifts, our talents, to help others and thereby proclaim the glory of God, not to proclaim our own glory but the glory of God. We are the salt of the earth, we are not the food, but rather we are the elements which allow the food to be consumed by others, to strength others.

Not to use our talents in this way is a waste of God’s gifts. We would be like salt that has lost its flavor and would be useful for nothing, deserving to be tossed out into the street where passers-by trample it under foot. At the same time, Jesus reminded his followers that they (that we) are the light of the world. Light does not exist for itself. Light exists to illuminate other things. Light should not be hidden under a bushel basket.

Why kindle a light at all, if it is to be hidden away? Rather the light is to be placed so it can be seen. So it can do what it was intended to do, what it was created to do. As Jesus said: “Your light must shine before others so that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.” Others are not to praise us, ourselves, for what we do. Rather, our actions should lead them to praise God, our heavenly Father, because of what we do on his behalf.

Yet, sometimes, when we act on his behalf, we may need to remember what St Paul wrote to the Corinthians in today’s Second Reading: “I came to you in weakness and fear, and much trembling, and my message and my proclamation were not with persuasive words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of Spirit and power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.”

So it is that sometimes we must raise our light even with fear and trembling, knowing our light is enkindled by the power of God. We are the “salt of the earth.” We are the “light of the world.” It is not our task to be food for others, but to flavor and to preserve the food which gives life to others. We are the “light of the world” that exists not for ourselves but to illuminate the world, so others do not walk in darkness.

While we are intended to accomplish much, to light up the entire world with our fire, there are times when we may be merely little pretzels with our arms folded in prayer. Little pretzels who realize sooner or later our salt must be shared with others, for the glory of our heavenly Father.³

^{Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time February 4, 1996; February 6, 2005 (revised)
Is 58:7-10; 1 Cor 2:1-5; Mt 5:13-16}

1. ^{The Latin word pretoila means “little reward.” The Latin word brachiatellum means “little arms.” It’s hard to see how either word became “pretzel,” but that’s what the legend says!}
2. ^{After Mass, Fr. John Upton, our pastor, speculated to me whether eating nine pretzels could be considered to be a “novena!”}
3. ^{I bought several bags of pretzels and had the Greeters (Ushers) make them available at all of the exits from the church so that “kids” could take “one” as they left the service. It appeared, however, that many parents, also, like both little arms and little rewards.}

I have a question for you. Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve had one. In fact, it was in October of 2012, when I gave my last homily here at Christ the Good Shepherd. So, the question is: Why did I stop, and second, why am I giving one today? The answer to the first question has to do with aging.

It’s been our tradition here at CGS for the last thirty years or so, for a deacon to preach at all five weekend masses when he’s assigned to be the homilist. Which has been great until, in my late seventies, I was no longer able to serve as the deacon at five weekend masses, since that was also part of our tradition. A deacon would not only preach, but would serve as deacon for the entire mass. So, that’s why I went off the preaching schedule. It became too difficult, physically, for me to continue.

And why am I here, today, as the homilist? It, also, has to do with aging. Next Tuesday, February 25 is the 30th anniversary of my ordination as a Permanent Deacon for the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston. And so, the staff asked me to give a homily at the 5:30 mass on Saturday, which is the mass where I’ve continued to serve as the deacon.

It’s been a wonderful thirty years being one of your deacons. During this time, I’ve had a lot to be grateful for. First of all, there are you, the wonderful people of Christ the Good Shepherd. And all of the other fifteen ordained deacons who have served with me, beginning with Steve LaBonte, who was the first deacon I ever met. That was back in 1977, when we first gathered at what we lovingly called “St Benfer’s” and “Our Lady of Strock”

And there are, of course, the four CGS deacons who were in classes with me for four years and who were ordained with me in 1984: Barry Beckman, Bob Degrave, John Charnisky, and Al O’Brien. We formed an active brotherhood over those early years. All of us owe much of our spiritual lives to one another and to the pastors who have labored with us, Fr. Ed, Fr. Bill and Fr. John, along with the many other priests and transitional deacons who have served here at CGS over the last thirty-plus years.

And then, there is the parish staff: administrators, directors, and day-to-day ministers to children, teens, and adults here at Good Shepherd, as well as those volunteers who served as part of our extensive outreach network. My thirty years as a deacon here would not have been happy ones without them. Thank God they were here to help me.

Of course, the main help came from my wife, Karen, and from our three kids: Deb, Ken and Chris. Back then, when I asked the boys about whether I should enter the Diaconate, they said it would be fine. It would keep me out of mischief and maybe I’d have less time to bug them. Perhaps, I should also mention Karen, at the time, worked with Fr. Drew Wood in the Vocations Office for the Diocese. Our family story goes that, since she could not get the boys to become priests, she had to donate me as a Permanent Deacon. I’m pleased she did.

And what have these years been like? Well, they’ve been very busy, busy with events for which I am most grateful. There have been baptisms to celebrate and catechumens to prepare. Over the past thirty years, there must be hundreds of children I’ve baptized by dunking them or pouring holy water over their heads. Some cried, most didn’t. And there have been all of the classes I’ve taught in adult education, here and throughout the archdiocese, that have brought me great pleasure. I hope they’ve, also, brought some pleasure and new insights to many of you.

Another enjoyable interaction has been in the preparation of couples for the celebration of the sacrament of matrimony. There are over three-hundred couples I’ve prepared over the years. They’ve been married here at Good Shepherd or in other parishes, even in foreign countries. I like to believe the vast majority is still married. But the facts of life may indicate otherwise, because I’ve also met with many others regarding annulments.

I’m pleased I’ve had the opportunity to have been with many of you in times of joy and of difficulties. Because that is what it has meant for the sixteen of us who have served as your deacons, to be with you during the celebration of your joys and of your sorrows. It’s a great honor and pleasure to see so many of you here today who share these memories with me.

And even if I have not been able to know each of you on a personal basis, I trust you have an idea of who I am through the homilies I’ve given. Over two-hundred-fifty of them. That’s a lot of questions. In a way that’s one of the purposes of the homilies I’ve given: To have you ask questions about life. And to get responses, not from me, but from our Lord God.

That’s what a homily is suppose to be about. To break open the Word of God. To help us understand how the scriptures from thousands of years ago are still relevant to our lives, today. My two-hundred-fifty homilies have focused on several major concepts. Concepts I hope I’ve conveyed to you over the years and not just my opening question.

First of all: God loves you. In fact, God is Love. That’s what it’s all about. Matthew, in today’s Gospel, reminds us, once more: “Be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” That’s another way to say God is Love, that God loves each and every one of us and desires we love one another. Our reading from the Book of Leviticus could not be more clear when it states: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.”

And the second teaching I’ve tried to get across in all of my homilies is similar to the first. Namely, God forgives us. We are to forgive one another. Although we desire to be perfect, we know we are not. But in our love for God and for one another, we give and seek forgiveness. Once more, we heard in Leviticus the words: “You shall not bear hatred for your brother or sister in your heart.” And Christ’s words in the gospel of Matthew: “Pray for those who persecute you.”

Yes, in all of my homilies, I’ve tried to focus on breaking open the words of scripture concerning Love and Forgiveness. I don’t know if I’ve succeeded. Only you can say. Because it’s not a matter of listening to my homily. It’s a matter of listening to what God says to you in your heart.

The best homily is not the one you hear, or don’t hear, with your ears, but rather the one you hear in your own heart. It is to know within your heart that, because of his love for us, God became flesh, he suffered and died for us, and he rose from the dead and to understand he did all of this in order for us to be reunited with him. Each Weekend at Mass, and, perhaps, at other times as well, we have listened to the words of Holy Scripture not with our ears but with the grace given to us by the Holy Spirit.

As much as I have enjoyed being a homilist and helping you to break open the word of God, there is another gift I enjoy even more. Of all the roles a deacon has, for me, the greatest one is being an “Ordinary Minister of the Eucharist.” Many of you have served one another as “Extraordinary Ministers of the Eucharist.” We have given one another the Body and Blood of Christ.

In many different ways, Saint Paul has reminded us we are members of the Body of Christ. In today’s reading he reminded the Corinthians they are temples of God and “everything belongs to you, and you to Christ, and Christ to God.” He continues to remind all of us Christ, our head, functions in the world through the actions of each one of us. I’m personally reminded of this every time I act as an Ordinary Minister of the Eucharist.

I am truly overwhelmed when I place a host in your hands. When I feel the touch of your hand. Some are soft and tender, gentle to the touch. Others are firm and callused. Yet, all of them perform the works of the Lord in different ways. And when I look into your eyes and speak the words: “The Body of Christ,” I realize, as Vatican II has taught us, we, too, are, also, the Body of Christ. When I see you and the host together, I am seeing the complete Body of Christ. For this gift, I thank each and every one of you for allowing me for thirty years to see and touch the Body of Christ.

^{7th Sunday in Ordinary Time; Feb. 23, 2014 (5:30 pm Mass, 2/22/14)
Lev 19:1-2, 17-18; 1 Cor 3:16-23; Mt 5:38-48}

Today, I have the name of a famous person for you to consider. How many of you are familiar with the name “Alfred E. Neuman?” It appears there are a lot of adults (like me) who have misspent their youth reading Mad Magazine. Anyway, the focus of today’s reflection is not going to be on the “what me worry kid” who appears on the cover of Mad. Instead, our focus should be on what Jesus has to say about worrying. Alfred E. Neuman may assure us it’s OK to sit back and wear a silly grin, but that attitude is not what Jesus required of his disciples. After all, we are called to be disciples of Jesus, and not disciples of this secular world, not followers of Alfred E. Neuman.

Today begins the first Sunday of our fourth period of Renew.¹ The general theme for the next six weeks is discipleship. The specific theme for this first week is: “our call to discipleship.” It would be worthwhile for us to take a closer look at our discipleship in light of today’s Gospel reading. The focus for our reflection today will be: just what did Jesus mean when he told his disciples (and us) to stop worrying.

To begin our reflection and to try to understand what his followers heard him saying, we need to look at today’s particular passage in both its structural context within the Gospel of Matthew, as well as in its historical setting. As for its place in Matthew’s gospel, for the last four Sundays we’ve been listening to parts of the “Sermon on the Mount.” In order to understand Jesus’ encouragement, “do not worry, trust in God,” we need to remember what went before this statement. Otherwise, it’s like tuning into only the last episode of a TV mini-series.

The “Sermon on the Mount” is a collection of sayings of Jesus which Matthew did not dump together in some random way but, instead, arranged in a very special pattern. Our problem is we’ve been listening to them over the past month and may have forgotten what has gone before. So, I’d like to take a few moments to have us recall what we’ve been hearing from each homilist, starting with our visitor, Father Gallen.

Father Gallen’s homily came at the beginning of the “Sermon on the Mount,” the Beatitudes. Remember how he spoke about: “blessed are the poor.” The Beatitudes, taken together, describe all those who are blessed, all who are called to be disciples and what waits in store for them. The next week, after the Beatitudes, Father Joe continued the “Sermon on the Mount” by talking about the role of the disciples: “remember, you are the salt of the earth, you are the light of the world.” The third week, Deacon Al talked about the difference between the Pharisees who knew the Law but did not have any change in their hearts, in contrast to the disciples, who knew not only the law, but also, had an interior change so they followed the spirit of the law and not just the letter of the law. Last week, Father Ed spoke about the result of the instructions of the “Sermon on the Mount,” how, through following Jesus’ commandment, as demonstrated by Mother Theresa, we show our love for our neighbor by being committed to helping our neighbor.

It is only after hearing the words of Jesus about those who are blessed, and our need to be “salt” and “light,” and how we must not be like the Pharisees and how we must not only not harm our enemies but, indeed, how we must love and help everyone – it is only with all of this in mind we can begin to understand how Jesus could say: “do not worry, God will provide.”

As for the historical setting for “the Sermon on the Mount,” the early Christians put into practice the first part of Jesus’ instructions. We read in the Acts of the Apostles how those early communities shared all of their possessions with one another. Those who “had,” provided for those who “had not.” No one was forced by any government program to contribute to this support. It was done voluntarily by those who chose to follow the Christ. It was this practice by a Christian community which made others say: “and you shall know that they are Christian, by their love.”

Today, our community is a so-called “worldwide village.” We point out how we are affected by what happens beyond two or three miles from our home. Our oil prices and jobs tumble, not because of our own personal failings, but because of what happens in the Middle East. Our steel workers are influenced by the economics of Japan and South Korea. Our banks are dependent upon events in South America. We are told our illegal drugs are part of the economy of foreign countries. AIDS, a disease Time magazine tells us will be a major health threat for everyone, seems to have originated in Central Africa. What we as a nation can spend for social welfare programs is determined, not by the need for them, not by the poor, the homeless, the unemployed, the hungry of the United States, but rather, by what is leftover after we provide for a defense program directed at a country 6,000 miles away.

These global worries seem to be beyond our control. It’s all well and good for Jesus to tell his disciples, “don’t worry; God will provide,” but does that really make any sense today? Although we can speak of a world economy and how it effects us, it really boils down to, not our global village, not our worldwide village, but rather our village right here at Christ the Good Shepherd. Those who heard Jesus in Galilee, were not aware of what was happening in Rome or Damascus. They probably weren’t aware of what was going on in Jerusalem, which is about the same distance as from FM1960 to Galveston.² But they were aware of those who were hungry and without clothing among their own neighbors, the ones sitting there, listening to Jesus.

They had gathered from all over the region, perhaps only a distance of a few miles away. They left before sunup that morning. They came on foot. Only the wealthy could afford a donkey. It took more effort to journey a few miles on the dusty roads of Galilee than it does to drive from Houston to San Antonio.

And now, they’ve heard him speak. He has called them “blessed, favored children of God.” He says you are the salt of the earth, you are the light of the world. The laws, the rules you follow, the reasons you do what you do, and how you behave with one another, are not because you’ve been threatened to do them, but rather because your heart tells you what you need to do.

These people sat there and listened. They wore tattered clothes, rags. They had empty stomachs that rumbled. They had twisted limbs and sightless eyes. They were homeless and jobless. It may have appeared to them God had forgotten them and they should cry out with Isaiah, “the Lord has forsaken me; my Lord has forgotten me.” But they remembered Yahweh’s promise: “Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you. I have carved you on the palm of my hand.” Those who came without possessions to hear Jesus, had one priceless gift, the gift of hope.

They came too, with their worries. And what are worries? Our word, itself, comes from an Old English word meaning “to choke” or “to strangle.” A worry is, indeed, something which seems to suffocate me, to strangle me, to cut off my breath and my spirit. And here is Jesus saying, “do not worry.” Do not allow yourself to be choked off. Rather trust in God. Be filled with the spirit of God. God will provide. However, Jesus did not say to relax and take it easy. Instead, he said, “seek first the kingship of the father.” He did not urge his disciples to be passive, but, rather, to be active, to seek, to knock, to find. And in all of his teachings, he reminded them they were to love one another, to help one another.

Here at Christ the Good Shepherd we have many ministries, many ways of helping one another. One important ministry has been our ministry of employment assistance. Many who have become part of this ministry have come to understand the power which can come from the Lord when we turn over control to him, when we stop worrying, and start helping ourselves and others.

The food ministry is another way to be an active disciple of our Lord. This weekend begins our first, formal visitation to our sister parish, Holy Name. At the same time, the Northwest Assistance Ministry, NAM³ , will continue to share in what is brought to this altar by those who make it possible, in their own way, for others “not to worry.” For some of us, our concern for others is shown by both our financial contributions to the DSF drive or by working actively in the agencies supported by the DSF.

This Wednesday, Lent begins. For some, we are now in the pre-Lenten week of Mardi-Gras, Fat Tuesday, when we celebrate Carnival, when our ancestors said “good-by to meat,” in preparation for the forty days of fasting. Many no longer say good-byes to meat, although some use Lent as an excuse to give up cholesterol in order to live longer. There are, of course, many things each of us could give up for Lent. But rather than merely looking for ways to give up the extras, the desserts of our lives, perhaps it is time for each of us to ask how I can help others, so they do not need to worry.

I began this reflection with a character known as Alfred E. Newman, the “what me worry” hero of Mad Magazine. He is, however, not the hero for us. Instead, we are each called to be disciples of the one who said not only, “do not worry,” but also “love one another as I have loved you.” It is in this way that each of us cannot only seek the kingship of the father, but more important, help others as we all seek his kingship, together.⁴

^{Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time; March 1, 1987
Is 49:14-15; 1 Cor 4:1-5; Mt 6:24-34}

1. “Renew” was a popular parish program of the late 80’s and early 90’s for the revitalization of parish spiritual life. It consisted of small, neighborhood prayer groups. Many groups formed in this period, however, met your years afterwards as fellowship, sharing groups.
2. FM 1960 is the area, north of Houston, where Christ the Good Shepherd is located. The name refers to “Farm to Market road number 1960.” The distance to Galveston is about seventy miles.
3. Northwest Assistance Ministries is a non-profit organization consisting of Protestant and Catholic churches as well as the local Jewish community in the FM 1960 area dedicated to serve the needs of the poor and homeless. The Diocesan Services Fund, DSF, supports similar efforts through contributions from the Catholic parishes of the Diocese of Galveston-Houston.
4. This homily was already longer than I would prefer to give, and certainly longer than most people want to hear. Consequently, the story with which I had intended to conclude this homily was never given. However, it’s a story worth recording as a footnote here. “There is a little story I’d like to end with. About a man who was puzzled about what he should do to get ahead in life. He thought he would see if God had some message for him in nature. Perhaps God would give him some sign of what he should do with his life. So one day he went out into the forest. There he saw a fox that had been crippled by a trap and could not move. As the man watched, he saw a lion come by. Instead of eating the fox, the lion gave the fox some of his own food. Each day, the man went back to the forest and saw the same thing … the lion would bring food to the crippled fox … until one day, when the fox was well enough to fend for himself. The man finally went home and decided that God was telling him that he should do nothing… that others would take care of him just as the lion cared for the fox. So the man quit his job, gave away all of his possessions, and began to beg from house to house. But without any luck. He became very ill. He moaned and groaned against God. He cursed God for not providing him with what he needed. He especially cursed God for sending him the sign that had led him to the condition in which he now found himself. That very night, God appeared to him in a vision. And this is what God said to him. ‘I did send you a true sign. But you saw it wrongly. You were not the fox. You were to be the lion.’ As we begin Lent, my prayer for each of us is: may we all be lions.”

Since it’s rodeo time in Houston, I figure I need a Texas question to begin today’s homily. I’ve lived here for only thirty-some years, but I’m still fascinated with Texan expressions. So, my question for you is this: What is your favorite Texas expression, your favorite Texan quotation? One of my own favorites is: “I’m fixin’ to start.” It seems I’m often about to get ready to begin a project but am reluctant to actually start it. I spend a lot of time just getting ready. It’s like cutting up my meat and buttering my roll and arranging my plate before I start eating. Sometimes, all the food is cold before I get around to taking a bite.

Today’s readings remind me of that condition of “fixin’ to start.” With Lent starting next Wednesday, maybe now is the right time to think a little about getting ready for it. Just like with New Year’s resolutions, many of us plan to do something different for Lent. And like New Year’s resolutions, my Lenten changes often don’t last very long.

The first reading for today, from the Book of Deuteronomy, has a good reminder for us as we prepare to enter this season of Lent. Moses has just finished reminding the Israelites about their Exodus through the wilderness and how the Lord God was with them all the way. He is about to reveal to them the Commandments he received from the Lord God on their behalf. But before he begins, Moses tells them they have a choice. They can continue to follow the Lord God and obey the commandments he is about to give them, or they can turn aside and not follow the Lord God and his commandments. If they follow them, they will be blessed. If they turn aside, they will be cursed. They know the consequences. They know the alternatives and one of them doesn’t sound too encouraging. Nevertheless, the choice is theirs: to follow or to turn aside.

Saint Paul in his Letter to the Romans heard in our second reading, elaborates on this theme. He reminds the new Christians at Rome: “Now, the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law … the righteousness of God, has [now been manifested] through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe.”

The “righteousness of God,” the glory and power of God and our unity with God are shown forth no longer by following Torah, no longer by performing the ritual actions contained in the Law given to Moses, but rather, by our faith and our belief in the saving action of Jesus Christ, who brought us our redemption through his own death and resurrection. Paul concludes his reminder with the words: “… a person is justified by faith apart from works of the law.” Ritual action as dictated in Torah has been replaced by our faith in Jesus Christ.

Nevertheless, although ritual actions associated with clean and unclean food, for example, are no longer demanded of us, our faith in him does require our participation in the actions of Jesus, himself. The Gospel of Matthew records the warning Jesus gave his disciples at the conclusion of his “Sermon on the Mount” when he said: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.’”

Merely claiming to be a follower is not enough. A true follower must listen and act upon what he has heard Christ teach. These actions are not to be mere ritual, but to have a true meaning. Our actions are to be real actions and not make-believe actions, not actions undertaken for their own sake, but actions performed on behalf of others.

Jesus then tells his followers the parable of the house built upon rock and the house built upon sand. The person who prepares for the storms of life, the one who acts wisely, and builds upon a solid foundation will survive. The one who is foolish and builds upon sand will lose everything in the trials to come.

Both the wise and the foolish know storms will come into their lives. Everyone who has lived for a while along the Gulf Coast knows a hurricane, sooner or later, will strike the area. The wise person builds accordingly. The foolish one merely hopes for the best. The wise person plans and builds. The foolish one continues to be “fixin’ to start,” but never gets around to constructing a solid foundation.

Here in these days immediately prior to Lent, in these days of the celebration of “Mardi Gras” when all inhibitions are let loose, here, today, is the time to plan for the foundations needed for our lives. There are many Lenten resolutions one can make. It’s up to you do decide what foundation stones are still required for a solid life with God, what aspects of your own life need to be changed. And the change, I would hope, might be more than the ritual action of giving up candy for the next forty days.

One suggestion might be: don’t grumble about your life, instead, fix what needs to be fixed. Do it. Don’t just talk about it and hope it will fix itself or that someone else will fix it for you. It’s up to you to decide what needs repairing in your life, what you might begin this Lent, and, perhaps, continue beyond Easter Sunday.

One area you might consider is to stop grumbling about relationships and to begin fixing them. We all have broken (or bruised) relationships with others that need repairing or healing. These damaged interactions may involve a spouse, a child, other relatives, including parents and brothers or sisters, grandparents or cousins, aunts and uncles. Friends at school or at work. Even those we meet casually in our everyday life.

The repair can begin by talking civilly with one another. Lines of communication can be opened up, can be repaired. The silent treatment can end. Resentment can be lowered and eliminated. Apologies can be offered. It’s possible for me to admit a problem exists and I, myself, might have something to do with its origin. It’s also possible to admit feelings have been hurt and to recognize the hurt comes because of the original love each one held for the other.

It’s possible to attempt to correct the problem, to desire to return to a relationship which existed before the problem arose. It’s possible to remember the good days of the past and what is needed to recapture them. Lent is a good time to resolve not to argue about petty annoyances and to try to change one’s own annoying habits and rituals. Lent is the time to move beyond what was done in the past and to move into the future. Lent is the time to go beyond “fixin’ to start” and to begin “fixin to fix.”

An ancient Jewish custom is described in our first reading for today. We heard the instruction of Moses that every male Jew should wrap a strap around his arm and write words from Torah to be carried in a pendant on his forehead in order to remember them. However, he began his directions by saying: “Take these words of mine into your heart and soul.” And this is the instruction Jesus gives us today: “ … only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven … will enter the kingdom of heaven.”

As we prepare for Ash Wednesday and the forty days to follow, let us remember we are not destined to stand outside the closed door where we grumble and gnash our teeth. Rather we are to knock, and the door will be opened. May we not grumble with the difficulties of our Lenten season, but, rather, let us listen to the words of Christ and knock on the door so that it will be opened on Easter morning, and we can behold the risen Christ.

^{9th Sunday in Ordinary Time; March 6, 2011
Deut 11:18, 26-28, 32; Rom 3:21-25,28; Mt 7:21-27}

I have two big questions for you. The answer I’m looking for is both geographical and theological. You don’t need to respond right away but think about them for a moment. The first one is: Where would you find the “Big Apple?” The second question: Where would you find the “Big Easy?” How many of you would say New York City is the answer to the first question? It’s known, of course, as “The Big Apple.” For many folks, especially in this part of the country, “The Big Easy” is New Orleans. However, the geographical and theological answer I was looking for is “Eden” or “The Garden of Paradise.” Because, you see, I really want to reflect, today, on the topic of “sin” and not on New York City and New Orleans, although some might believe these two cities would also fit in with either the “Garden of Paradise” or the topic of sin.

However, I really was thinking about the original “Garden in Eden,” the one we heard about in our First Reading. Although the actual kind of fruit found in today’s reading is never mentioned, most Christians have turned it into an apple. And if I had to imagine how it looked, I suppose I would conjure up the image of the apple the wicked stepmother gave to Snow White in the Disney version of the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. You do remember how red and shiny it looked? A perfect apple. But didn’t it also turn into a death’s head? On the outside perfect, on the inside a deadly poison. Is this not what “sin” usually looks like: perfect on the outside and deadly underneath?

And just what is a sin? No, I’m not going to list them. Instead, there’s a general answer you might consider. A sin is either: knowing what should NOT be done and doing it, anyway, or knowing what SHOULD be done and NOT doing it. Some would summarize this by saying there are “sins of Commission” and “sins of Omission.” They both involve knowing; they involve knowledge.

Some of us were taught long ago the answer to the Baltimore Catechism question: “What three things are necessary to make a sin mortal?” The answer in my 1941 edition says, “To make a sin mortal these three things are necessary. First, the thought, desire, word, action, or omission must be seriously wrong or considered seriously wrong. Second, the sinner must know it is seriously wrong. Third, the sinner must fully consent to it.” So, it appears knowledge is a key requirement for sinning. I suppose it goes back to that “original” sin of Adam and Eve.

We heard in today’s reading from Genesis that Adam and Eve must not eat of the fruit of the “tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” However, the serpent encouraged Eve by saying, “No, [you certainly will not die if you eat this fruit. The reason why God does not want you to eat it is because he] knows that the moment you eat of it your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods who know what is good and what is evil.”

The Serpent, as usual, spoke a partial truth. The result, as it often is with the matter of sin, was not the expected result. A he said, they did not die right then and there, but now they, indeed, did know the difference between what is good and what is evil, just as they had been told they would. On the other hand, the true result was not what they had expected. They now knew the experience of “shame.” They knew what they should not have done, and they were now ashamed of having done it.

With this shame, they went into hiding. They hid their bodies from one another under the covering of clothing. They hid their bodies from God by trying to conceal themselves in the bushes when God went looking for their companionship. They had been promised by the Serpent not only the delights of the “Big Apple” but also the results of the “Big Easy.” They thought they were getting the “Easy Way” of knowing what is good and what is evil. Yes, one way of looking at the “original” sin of our ancestors is to say that they sought the knowledge which is reserved only for God. As a result we, their descendants, have tried to follow the “easy way out” ever since. We continue to want the “Big Apple” and the “Big Easy,” until we were shown another way, another path.

Saint Paul in his Letter to the Romans, reminded them, and us: “Through one man sin entered the world, and through sin, death …” He goes on to say, “For just as through the disobedience of the one man, the many were made sinners, so, through the obedience of the one, the many will be made righteous.” For Saint Paul, Jesus the Christ is the “New Adam, the New Man” who takes away the original sin of the first Adam, the first man.

In our Gospel reading for today, we, once again, heard how this “New Adam” did not fall victim to the promises of the “Big Easy,” of the easy way out. When he was hungry, he did not take the easy way out by turning the surrounding stones into bread. When he was offered a form of physical protection from death, itself, he did not take the easy way out by calling upon legions of angels to lift him up from destruction. When he was offered all of the kingdoms and people of the world, he did not take the easy way out by falling down and worshiping the devil. Instead, he chose the difficult path, the journey through Galilee and on to Jerusalem, where he walked the Way of the Cross for our Salvation.

Some two thousand years later, we are offered similar temptations to be part of the “Big Easy,” to take the easy way out rather than to follow “His Way.” Instead of being tempted to turn stones into bread, we are tempted to take the easy way to obtain our physical and emotional comforts. Through the ads we read and the commercials we watch, we’re offered every imaginable comfort for body and mind. We are tempted to consume bread, but in reality we would be consumers of stones.

Instead of being tempted to protect ourselves with angels, we are tempted to take the easy way to protect our physical and emotional comforts. We’re encouraged to engage in risk-taking behavior, yet still be protected. We take drugs to promote our highs and eliminate our lows. We view sexuality in terms of self-seeking pleasure, even when we recognize the potential harm to ourselves and to others.

Instead of being tempted by an offer of all of the kingdoms of the earth, we are tempted to take the easy way to gain power over others. We are encouraged to manipulate and control our co-workers, our classmate, our acquaintances, and even members of our own family in order to promote our self-interests. We are urged to exploit the economy and resources of the planet for our own benefits.

However, during Lent, during this time of preparation for the celebration of Easter and the Salvation brought to us through the Cross of Christ, we are offered three opportunities to resist the three forms of the temptations presented to Jesus in the desert. During this Lent, we are once again encouraged to practice the ancient arts of fasting, prayer and almsgiving.

Fasting. We are encouraged to fast – to give up those actions or materials which slow us down on our own journey to Jerusalem and Easter Sunday. We’re encouraged to strengthen our resolve by reducing our consumerism, by reducing our drive toward obtaining unneeded physical comforts which detract us from our spiritual well-being.

Prayer. We are encouraged to pray – to replace risk-taking behavior in which we attempt to gain physical or emotional pleasure. We’re encouraged to increase our communication with God on a daily basis. We are reminded the presence of true highs, and the elimination of true lows depend not upon drugs and risk-taking behavior but upon the presence or absence of God in our daily lives.

Almsgiving. We are encouraged to give of ourselves to others – to eliminate our manipulation and control of others. We’re encouraged to give ourselves to others rather than to take from others, our co-workers, our friends, and our own family members. We are urged to conserve and replenish the resources of our world.

Lent is a time to learn not to seek the “Big Easy,” the easy way out of life. Yes, it is tempting to desire a life on “Easy Street.” However, as followers of Christ we are called to a different place, along a different path. We are called not to the “Big Apple,” not to a false “Garden of Eden.” Instead, we are called to accompany Jesus on his Journey to Jerusalem and beyond.

^{1st Sunday of Lent; February 13, 2005
Gen 2:7-9; 3:1-7; Rom 5:12-19; Mt 4:1-11}

What’s your favorite drink? For some it might be Dr. Pepper. Others might suggest scotch and soda. For those who prefer beer, the real question is: where in Texas are they going to hold that party? A few of you might even have thought about water, a glass of cold water, especially when you’re really thirsty. On the other hand, the taste of Houston water is not all that great for a lot of people. So, if you did think about water, you were probably prompted by today’s reading.

This question of your favorite drink is only one of the questions I might have asked about today’s Gospel reading. After all, today’s reading has almost as many questions as you’d find in Murder She Wrote or the new Columbo. So, the focus of today’s reflection becomes a whole series of questions:
● Why did the Samaritan women come to the well at noon?
● What did Jesus mean about “living” water and what did she mean about “flowing” water?
● Why did Jesus suddenly change the subject and talk about her multiple husbands?
● Why did the woman change the subject once more and talk about places of worship?
● Why did the woman suddenly go running back to town?
It goes on and on. There are enough questions raised in John’s Gospel to keep a Bible scholar busy for several hours. But I promise you, this reflection will not be that long.

Let’s begin by looking at the Samaritan woman who came at noon to the well outside the town. It was not an unusual occurrence to come to the well for water. And to bring your own bucket and water jar. She knew none were there. Well-water was precious, not for anyone passing by who might take more water than was deserved. No, you had to bring your own bucket to let down into the cistern. You had to have your own water jar in which to carry it home.

Why at noon? Why in the heat of the day? Most of the villagers drew their water supply in early morning or in early evening when it was cool. That’s when they would gather there. Not only to get their daily supply of water, but almost as important, their daily ration of gossip. We sometimes think the gathering around an office water cooler, or coffee pot is a modern invention. It isn’t. Our need to come together around a drinking spot goes back so far it might even be part of our genetic heritage. It certainly is part of our cultural background.

So, why did the Samaritan woman travel to the well when she knew no one was going to be around? Did she fear the gossip of the others? Was she so much of an outcast she forced herself to go to the well only when she assumed she would be alone? And now what!? Here was a stranger sitting there. From his clothes, she knew, even at a distance, he was a Jew, not a Samaritan. He was one of those who taunted her people. One who would no doubt taunt her even more. And to whom could she turn for help? But what happens? Rather than taunting her, he asks for her help. Who was the last person to ask for her assistance? Who, even, took a personal interest in her?

Thus, our story for today begins. A confusing story to be sure. There are so many unanswered questions. And so many misunderstandings. Was Jesus so unclear that when he offered “living” water, she thought he was offering her some kind of “flowing” water? Then, when he explained he wanted to give her an internal gift that would satisfy her forever, she thought he had some magic water which would slake her physical thirst forever. We listen to the story and smile, at least inwardly, at how naive she was. Wasn’t she really listening? Yet, do we, ourselves, really listen when we are offered the same water?

And we are offered the same water. We, too, approach the well where Jesus sits waiting for us. And we, too, don’t really listen. Are there not times when I feel as if I’m an outcast from all those around me? When I feel I am the subject of all the gossip, all the stories making the rounds? Do I not isolate myself from those around me, either physically, psychologically, emotionally? Am I afraid to go to the well, to draw water when others might be around? When I arrive, am I met by someone I see as a stranger? When I come upon Jesus in a place I do not expect to find him, do I fear the encounter? Finally, when he asks for my help, when he asks me to share what I have with him, do I give some sarcastic reply?

Yet, what is this gift, this “living water” he offers to me to quench my thirst? Do I also need to recall Jesus, too, was thirsty? Do I remember he was waiting at the well for the woman in order to quench his own thirst? What is this thirst Jesus and I share? A thirst we share, yet a thirst only he can quench.

Perhaps, it is the thirst we call “reconciliation.” Jesus thirsts for us, just as much as we thirst for him. Jesus wants us to approach him at the well just as much as we want and need to approach him. The “living water” he offers is reconciliation, harmony with God, with others and within our self. This is the thirst we long to quench.

The woman at the well when offered this water, was also asked a question, a question about her life. The answer to this question was something about which she was not proud. It was an answer that no doubt isolated her from the rest of the town, one which forced her to come to the well, alone, at high noon.

Is it also true that when Jesus offers us the “living water” of healing, of life, of reconciliation, he too, asks a question? Does he ask us, ask me, what is it that keeps me separated from others? Must I be as honest as the woman at the well when I give him my reply? Is this, too, what reconciliation and healing are all about: my need to admit what isolates me from others? With this admission, is it then I can hear that God is not outside of me, not on some high mountain top, not in material things, but rather God can be found in the spirit within me?

At last, when I receive this word, this healing, this inner fountain springing up within me, is it then I can leave my water jar behind, no longer needing some external container, but with my own interior water jar, my soul, overflowing with this living water, hurry back to the community I left in fear? Once back with this community, to have them accept me fully, completely. To have those who gossiped against me, now listen to what I say, to see what I do, and accept me, rather than reject me. Filled with this living water, do I now accept myself, my own goodness? Can I stop rejecting myself, now that I have obtained reconciliation with my God.

Two thousand years ago, a woman approached a well. She left that oasis a changed person. We too approach Jesus the Christ, Jesus the Anointed One, at our own well. He sits there waiting for us. We may feel rejected by others, but he does not reject us. He accepts us where we are. All he asks of us is complete honesty. To admit to him where we have failed, to tell him for what we thirst. And in return, he offers us living water. Once more I would ask you, what is your favorite drink? Could it be the “living water of reconciliation” which Jesus hands to you?

^{Third Sunday of Lent; February 26, 1989}
_{(Although 1989 is a Cycle C year, the Third Sunday in Lent begins the Scrutinies used for the Rite of Christian Initiation program which uses Cycle A readings.)}
^{Ex 17:3-7; Rom 5:1-2,5-8; Jn 4:4-42}