Homily for the Second Sunday of Lent, Year C
Genesis 15.5-12, 17-18 Psalm 27 Philippians 3.17-4.1 Luke 9.28b-36
As baptized Christians, you and I are the most tangible and effective witnesses to the presence of Christ in our world. By living our faith, we can help bring peace, hope, joy and love to a world of suffering and pain. We can be the voice of truth in a world of doubt, the arms of compassion to a world in need. We can lead people to heaven by leading people to Christ. But we can also drive people away from God. We can make others suspicious of organized religion because of our hypocrisy. We can cause doubt and despair because of our failure to love. We can turn people off to Christ by the selfishness and greed of the lives we lead. Simply by the way we go about our daily lives, we can lead people to Christ or away from him. That is the power of human influence.
The story is told of a man many years ago who was in a long line at an airport, waiting for a shuttle to get to the terminal. Standing in front of this man was the late Cardinal Terence Cooke, archbishop of New York. One of the airport attendants came up to Cardinal Cooke and whispered to him that he could take him to the front of the line. Cardinal Cooke responded, “That’s very thoughtful of you and I appreciate it, but I can wait my turn.” That simple act of humility was noticed by the man standing behind the Cardinal in line, and it moved him so much that he began going to church, and eventually became Catholic himself.* Such a simple witness that can lead someone to Christ.
St. Paul knew the power of this witness. He urged the Philippians to imitate him and others who conduct themselves according to the model given us by Christ. He knew that the example of Christians most often is what would lead others to Christ. But, at the same time, the opposite is also true. People who call themselves Christian but occupy their minds with earthly things can lead people away from Christ. Professed Christians who are rude, haughty, greedy, and mean-spirited do damage not just to themselves but to the people around them. The worst kind of Christian is one who is Christian in name only but not in action. Of course no Christians are perfect – we’re far from it – but in humility we are called to do the best we can to be an effective witness to the presence of Christ in our world. If our friends or family members know that we go to Mass every weekend but also witness our constantly judgmental attitudes, then we have work to do in living as Christians. If our co-workers who have no professed faith have to put up with the anger and verbal abuse of a professed Christian, then it’s not likely that we will lead them to Christ. But if the people around us can witness our kindness, our love, our generosity, and our joy, then perhaps they, too, will want to know the God who is the source of all those blessings in our lives.
Ultimately, of course, it is Christ alone who saves us, it is Christ alone who draws people to him, it is Christ alone who leads anyone to heaven. But the simple fact of our human nature is that we often look to the people around us for an example to follow. In our Lenten journey, we strive to put aside all those things that distract us or the people around us from being able to follow Christ. And along the way we ask ourselves: what kind of a Christian example do we give?
*Story told by Archbishop Timothy Dolan in Priests of the Third Millenium and Called to Be Holy.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Fasting and Waiting
Homily for the First Sunday of Lent, Year C
Deuteronomy 26.4-10 Psalm 91 Romans 10.8-13 Luke 4.1-13
In an interesting quirk of the calendar, the season of Lent this year corresponds to the 2010 Winter Olympic Games in Vancouver. And I think the one event can teach us about the other. Part of what seems to draw people to events like the Olympics are the stories behind the athletes. Especially in recent years, news coverage of the Olympic Games has focused more and more on the athletes’ personal lives, their struggles, their journeys, their triumphs and their failures. In many of these personal stories, there is an element of waiting. We hear about snowboarders who must wait for their sport to gain recognition and acclaim. We hear about skiers who must wait for an injury to heal before being able to reach for their dream. We hear about ice skaters who must wait four more years for another chance to prove themselves after a disappointing performance at the last winter games. And we hear about bobsledders and lugers who must wait for years to hone a championship technique in a difficult and dangerous sport. The stories of the trials and challenges and waiting of these Olympians is often what makes us most interested in the athletes as people, and not just as medal-winners. And it is here that the Olympic Games meets in a curious way the Christian observance of Lent.
Because, in a way, Lent too is about waiting. During these 40 days, we wait for Easter … we wait to celebrate the resurrection … some members of our community wait to be baptized or to join the full communion of our Catholic faith. But on an even deeper level, the waiting of Lent is seen best of all in the practice of fasting. Before he began his public ministry, Jesus fasted for forty days in the desert. And so our Christian tradition has long made our 40-day Lenten journey a time of fasting. But what is fasting all about? Why do we fast from desserts or soft drinks or computer games or television? For the most part, the things we fast from are things that we typically enjoy. It’s pointless to give up chocolate if we don’t like chocolate and never eat it anyway. But it’s also pointless to give up Facebook if we spend the time that we would have been on Facebook instead texting people or on e-mail. We fast in order to create an emptiness in our lives, an emptiness that turns us away from ourselves and toward God. We fast in order to wait. We rid our lives of some earthly experience so that we can fill it with things that come from God. We fast from something that makes us happy now – temporarily – in order to wait for something that will make us happy forever. We fast from the things of earth in order to wait in joyful hope for the things of heaven.
That’s the wisdom that Jesus knew that the devil didn’t. The devil tried to tempt Jesus with things that would make him happy now – bread to eat, power over the kingdoms of earth, security from failure. But Jesus knew that none of those things bring true happiness – they bring passing pleasure, yes, but not true joy. Jesus knew that we can glimpse true joy here on earth, in serving and loving others to the best of our ability. We can glimpse true joy among family and friends and a community of faith. But for complete, endless joy, we must wait. We must wait until we are able to hand everything over to God. We must wait until all pride and selfishness has been removed from our hearts. We must wait for the time when we can say to our Lord – everything I have is yours. Fasting reminds us that we need to wait – that earthly pleasures will not bring us true joy. Because our hearts will only be completely filled in the glory of heaven.
Deuteronomy 26.4-10 Psalm 91 Romans 10.8-13 Luke 4.1-13
In an interesting quirk of the calendar, the season of Lent this year corresponds to the 2010 Winter Olympic Games in Vancouver. And I think the one event can teach us about the other. Part of what seems to draw people to events like the Olympics are the stories behind the athletes. Especially in recent years, news coverage of the Olympic Games has focused more and more on the athletes’ personal lives, their struggles, their journeys, their triumphs and their failures. In many of these personal stories, there is an element of waiting. We hear about snowboarders who must wait for their sport to gain recognition and acclaim. We hear about skiers who must wait for an injury to heal before being able to reach for their dream. We hear about ice skaters who must wait four more years for another chance to prove themselves after a disappointing performance at the last winter games. And we hear about bobsledders and lugers who must wait for years to hone a championship technique in a difficult and dangerous sport. The stories of the trials and challenges and waiting of these Olympians is often what makes us most interested in the athletes as people, and not just as medal-winners. And it is here that the Olympic Games meets in a curious way the Christian observance of Lent.
Because, in a way, Lent too is about waiting. During these 40 days, we wait for Easter … we wait to celebrate the resurrection … some members of our community wait to be baptized or to join the full communion of our Catholic faith. But on an even deeper level, the waiting of Lent is seen best of all in the practice of fasting. Before he began his public ministry, Jesus fasted for forty days in the desert. And so our Christian tradition has long made our 40-day Lenten journey a time of fasting. But what is fasting all about? Why do we fast from desserts or soft drinks or computer games or television? For the most part, the things we fast from are things that we typically enjoy. It’s pointless to give up chocolate if we don’t like chocolate and never eat it anyway. But it’s also pointless to give up Facebook if we spend the time that we would have been on Facebook instead texting people or on e-mail. We fast in order to create an emptiness in our lives, an emptiness that turns us away from ourselves and toward God. We fast in order to wait. We rid our lives of some earthly experience so that we can fill it with things that come from God. We fast from something that makes us happy now – temporarily – in order to wait for something that will make us happy forever. We fast from the things of earth in order to wait in joyful hope for the things of heaven.
That’s the wisdom that Jesus knew that the devil didn’t. The devil tried to tempt Jesus with things that would make him happy now – bread to eat, power over the kingdoms of earth, security from failure. But Jesus knew that none of those things bring true happiness – they bring passing pleasure, yes, but not true joy. Jesus knew that we can glimpse true joy here on earth, in serving and loving others to the best of our ability. We can glimpse true joy among family and friends and a community of faith. But for complete, endless joy, we must wait. We must wait until we are able to hand everything over to God. We must wait until all pride and selfishness has been removed from our hearts. We must wait for the time when we can say to our Lord – everything I have is yours. Fasting reminds us that we need to wait – that earthly pleasures will not bring us true joy. Because our hearts will only be completely filled in the glory of heaven.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The Snow Lay on the Ground
Homily for Ash Wednesday, Year C
Joel 2.12-18 Psalm 51 2 Corinthians 5.20-6.2 Matthew 6.1-6, 16-18
Needless to say, we’ve had a lot of snow around here in recent days. Snow makes such a beautiful, clean blanket as it covers the world with its pure, white flakes. There is nothing quite like a snow-covered landscape – at least, until the snow gets dirty, and the pure, white mounds are mixed with salt and sand and dirt and earth and become more gray than white. As beautiful as snow can be by itself, so too can it turn ugly and unsightly the more we drive and walk and plow it away. But such is the way of life.
On this Ash Wednesday, we gather as a people to publicly recognize the dirt and grime that has built up on our souls. We are dust, we are sinners, we are far from perfect. The cross of ashes that is placed on our foreheads today reminds us of that. But underneath, we know that there is a glimmer of hope – there is a spark of the divine, the image of God himself that has been imprinted within each of us. The good news of the season of Lent is that we don’t have to stay dirty; we can wipe away the grime and find once more the pure light of God that has been given to us. The process of conversion is lifelong – it is not confined to these 40 days each year. But we focus on that conversion in a particular way as we move through the prayer, fasting, and almsgiving of Lent. During these next 40 days, we make a concerted effort to turn away from ourselves and to turn toward God. During these next 40 days, we try to recover the grace of baptism that has been given to us. During these next 40 days, we strive more and more to recognize Christ in each person we encounter and honor the Spirit that lives in them.
Once it gets dirty, it is virtually impossible to restore snow to its original, clean, pure-white state. But for us, that transformation is possible. Through the water of baptism, we first became children of God. Now, as we journey toward the renewal of our baptismal promises at Easter, as we move forward on the path of Lenten conversion, the grace of God can rid us of everything that has darkened our souls over time. And once our sinfulness has been cleansed and wiped away, then we recover once again the purity of our baptismal identity.
Joel 2.12-18 Psalm 51 2 Corinthians 5.20-6.2 Matthew 6.1-6, 16-18
Needless to say, we’ve had a lot of snow around here in recent days. Snow makes such a beautiful, clean blanket as it covers the world with its pure, white flakes. There is nothing quite like a snow-covered landscape – at least, until the snow gets dirty, and the pure, white mounds are mixed with salt and sand and dirt and earth and become more gray than white. As beautiful as snow can be by itself, so too can it turn ugly and unsightly the more we drive and walk and plow it away. But such is the way of life.
On this Ash Wednesday, we gather as a people to publicly recognize the dirt and grime that has built up on our souls. We are dust, we are sinners, we are far from perfect. The cross of ashes that is placed on our foreheads today reminds us of that. But underneath, we know that there is a glimmer of hope – there is a spark of the divine, the image of God himself that has been imprinted within each of us. The good news of the season of Lent is that we don’t have to stay dirty; we can wipe away the grime and find once more the pure light of God that has been given to us. The process of conversion is lifelong – it is not confined to these 40 days each year. But we focus on that conversion in a particular way as we move through the prayer, fasting, and almsgiving of Lent. During these next 40 days, we make a concerted effort to turn away from ourselves and to turn toward God. During these next 40 days, we try to recover the grace of baptism that has been given to us. During these next 40 days, we strive more and more to recognize Christ in each person we encounter and honor the Spirit that lives in them.
Once it gets dirty, it is virtually impossible to restore snow to its original, clean, pure-white state. But for us, that transformation is possible. Through the water of baptism, we first became children of God. Now, as we journey toward the renewal of our baptismal promises at Easter, as we move forward on the path of Lenten conversion, the grace of God can rid us of everything that has darkened our souls over time. And once our sinfulness has been cleansed and wiped away, then we recover once again the purity of our baptismal identity.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
St. Paul on Twitter
Homily for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C
Isaiah 6.1-2a, 3-8 Psalm 138 1 Corinthians 15.1-11 Luke 5.1-11
St. Paul would be right at place in a headline-news world. With newspapers going out of fashion and in-depth investigative journalism on the decline, we find ourselves more and more focused on the headlines, the news bytes, the quick quotes that can summarize everything we need to know in just a few words. You might even say that St. Paul would be a natural on Twitter – one of the latest technological crazes, where you can use no more than 140 characters to say what you want to say. St. Paul would be a natural. Take today’s second reading, for example. St. Paul gives us a quick summary of our belief in Jesus. Put simply, Christ died for our sins, in accordance with the Scriptures, was buried, was raised on the third day, and appeared to many. Only 123 characters – and that is pretty much all you need to know. The Twitter version of the gospel – only it wasn’t written by a 21st-century social networker; it was written by St. Paul himself.
Of course there is much more to the story, there is much more to know about why Christ needed to die for us, what his resurrection accomplished, and how he commissioned his disciples to preach the gospel during his appearances to them. The 73 books of the Bible are a good place to start. But there’s even more than that – we have 2,000 years worth of reflections and teachings on the Word of God. Even with all this material to reflect on, not to mention our own personal prayer and relationship with God, some good, brief, summaries of our faith can help us figure out what is most important in our lives and in our Church. And so, from today’s readings, I offer some Christian headlines – some gospel tweets – some short summaries of what is most important in our relationship with God:
From the prophet Isaiah: The earth is filled with the glory of God!
From St. Paul: All the good that I do is accomplished through the grace of God.
From St. Peter: Master, I trust in you.
From Jesus Christ: Do not be afraid.
Really, what else do we need? In these few short phrases we have a lifetime of material for reflection and personal growth in the Christian life. And sometimes, the fewer words we speak, the better.
Isaiah 6.1-2a, 3-8 Psalm 138 1 Corinthians 15.1-11 Luke 5.1-11
St. Paul would be right at place in a headline-news world. With newspapers going out of fashion and in-depth investigative journalism on the decline, we find ourselves more and more focused on the headlines, the news bytes, the quick quotes that can summarize everything we need to know in just a few words. You might even say that St. Paul would be a natural on Twitter – one of the latest technological crazes, where you can use no more than 140 characters to say what you want to say. St. Paul would be a natural. Take today’s second reading, for example. St. Paul gives us a quick summary of our belief in Jesus. Put simply, Christ died for our sins, in accordance with the Scriptures, was buried, was raised on the third day, and appeared to many. Only 123 characters – and that is pretty much all you need to know. The Twitter version of the gospel – only it wasn’t written by a 21st-century social networker; it was written by St. Paul himself.
Of course there is much more to the story, there is much more to know about why Christ needed to die for us, what his resurrection accomplished, and how he commissioned his disciples to preach the gospel during his appearances to them. The 73 books of the Bible are a good place to start. But there’s even more than that – we have 2,000 years worth of reflections and teachings on the Word of God. Even with all this material to reflect on, not to mention our own personal prayer and relationship with God, some good, brief, summaries of our faith can help us figure out what is most important in our lives and in our Church. And so, from today’s readings, I offer some Christian headlines – some gospel tweets – some short summaries of what is most important in our relationship with God:
From the prophet Isaiah: The earth is filled with the glory of God!
From St. Paul: All the good that I do is accomplished through the grace of God.
From St. Peter: Master, I trust in you.
From Jesus Christ: Do not be afraid.
Really, what else do we need? In these few short phrases we have a lifetime of material for reflection and personal growth in the Christian life. And sometimes, the fewer words we speak, the better.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Corinthian and Christian Love
Homily for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C
There’s not much left of the ancient city of Corinth today. There are the ruins of a temple to Apollo, with only seven of the original 40 columns of the temple remaining. You can walk through the ancient marketplace and see the rough stone ruins of storefronts, much like the one where St. Paul ran his tent-making business while he lived in the city. You can see the Bema, or speaker’s platform, where Paul was cleared of criminal charges by the Roman authorities. And high above the city, you can see the hill of the Acrocorinth, the acropolis of the city. In ancient times, a large temple stood on this hill dedicated to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. There’s not much left of this temple today – just a few ruined foundations. But the stories from the ancient world survive. Stories that name this temple as one of the most important and well-known temples ever built to the goddess of love. Stories that tell of the abnormally high number of prostitutes who lived around this temple and in the city of Corinth itself. Stories that declare Corinth to be one of the most notorious cities in the ancient world for its corruption and depravity. To call someone a Corinthian in ancient times was to recognize that person’s public immorality. St. Paul had difficult work to do to make the Corinthians Christian. And it is against this backdrop that we read and can understand his letters to the Church in Corinth.
The kind of love that came from the Temple of Aphrodite was a self-centered love – a love that used other people personal gratification. It’s almost a natural human tendency to want first of all what will make me happy – to focus all of our desires and decisions and what is best for me, what I want, what I like. This was the kind of love that was known in Corinth. But the love that comes from Jesus, the love that was preached by Paul, is not self-centered. Christian love does not seek its own interests but is willing to sacrifice itself for the good of others. Christian love uses patience and kindness to serve the needs of other people, while also recognizing that love impels others to serve our own needs. Christian love respects each person as a child of God and directs all of our words, actions, and decisions not to inflate our own egos or push our own agendas but to honor the presence of God in the people around us. And most importantly, Christian love is universal; it calls us to love all people, without favorites – not just our family or close friends, but each person we encounter. We don’t have to like everyone or become their best friend, but as Christians we are called to love everyone with patience, kindness, respect, humility, graciousness, and truth.
So what does this mean for us? Christian love means that we think about other people before we think about ourselves – whether that means sharing our resources with people in need, or respecting other people on the road when we are driving. Christian love means that we do not gossip about other people or spread rumors; we do not talk behind people’s backs or tear down their reputations. Christian love means that we do not ignore people when we encounter them or develop an exclusive circle that leaves out people we don’t like. Christian love means that we do not let arguments and disagreements lead to 20 or 30 years of not talking to someone who used to be a close friend. Christian love means that we are always looking out for others and offering a helping hand whenever we can. Christian love means that we do not judge other people, but instead recognize Christ in them. It’s not easy to do, and none of us are perfect at exercising Christian love. But that imperfection cannot make us complacent or unwilling to try. Even the people of Corinth seemed willing to learn a new kind of love, a love that had been absent from their city for many centuries. If we call ourselves Christian, then we must make a best effort to live the kind of love that St. Paul taught the Corinthians – a love that is not about me, but about God; a love that recognizes and serves Christ in the people around us. We have a choice. We can be like the Corinthians, or we can be like Christ. What way do you choose?
The kind of love that came from the Temple of Aphrodite was a self-centered love – a love that used other people personal gratification. It’s almost a natural human tendency to want first of all what will make me happy – to focus all of our desires and decisions and what is best for me, what I want, what I like. This was the kind of love that was known in Corinth. But the love that comes from Jesus, the love that was preached by Paul, is not self-centered. Christian love does not seek its own interests but is willing to sacrifice itself for the good of others. Christian love uses patience and kindness to serve the needs of other people, while also recognizing that love impels others to serve our own needs. Christian love respects each person as a child of God and directs all of our words, actions, and decisions not to inflate our own egos or push our own agendas but to honor the presence of God in the people around us. And most importantly, Christian love is universal; it calls us to love all people, without favorites – not just our family or close friends, but each person we encounter. We don’t have to like everyone or become their best friend, but as Christians we are called to love everyone with patience, kindness, respect, humility, graciousness, and truth.
So what does this mean for us? Christian love means that we think about other people before we think about ourselves – whether that means sharing our resources with people in need, or respecting other people on the road when we are driving. Christian love means that we do not gossip about other people or spread rumors; we do not talk behind people’s backs or tear down their reputations. Christian love means that we do not ignore people when we encounter them or develop an exclusive circle that leaves out people we don’t like. Christian love means that we do not let arguments and disagreements lead to 20 or 30 years of not talking to someone who used to be a close friend. Christian love means that we are always looking out for others and offering a helping hand whenever we can. Christian love means that we do not judge other people, but instead recognize Christ in them. It’s not easy to do, and none of us are perfect at exercising Christian love. But that imperfection cannot make us complacent or unwilling to try. Even the people of Corinth seemed willing to learn a new kind of love, a love that had been absent from their city for many centuries. If we call ourselves Christian, then we must make a best effort to live the kind of love that St. Paul taught the Corinthians – a love that is not about me, but about God; a love that recognizes and serves Christ in the people around us. We have a choice. We can be like the Corinthians, or we can be like Christ. What way do you choose?
The ruins of Ancient Corinth with the Acrocorinth in the background
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Works of Mercy
Homily for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C
Nehemiah 8.2-4a, 8-10 Psalm 19 1 Corinthians 12.12-30 Luke 1.-4, 4.14-21
Many of us have been amazed this week to hear the stories of miracles coming from earthquake-ravaged Haiti. As recently as yesterday, 11 days after the quake, people have been pulled alive from the rubble – survivors against all odds. There is no earthly, human reason these people should be alive after being stuck in the midst of fallen buildings with no food or water for so long. But they are. With over 100,000 dead, even these few stories of survival are something of a miracle, a glimmer of light in a country facing unprecedented darkness and devastation.
I imagine that part of what has drawn the people of the world to care so much about the well-being of the people in Haiti is because the poverty of that country, in many ways, hinders their ability to help themselves. It’s not that we want to be seen as the saviors or almighty rescuers; it’s not that we want to be put in the spotlight because of the good that we can do. We want to do something because we know we have a responsibility, we know that our wealth and comfort and security puts us in a position to be able to bring food and shelter and hope to a people greatly in need. We are drawn to help the people of Haiti because we can, and because we must. Like Christ himself, we are called to “bring glad tidings to the lowly … to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind … to let the oppressed go free” (Luke 4.18). And that call is not limited to one group of people or one particular time. Whether it is the suffering people of Haiti, or the unjustly imprisoned; whether it is the victims of crime and war, or the unborn threatened by abortion – those of us who have been anointed by the Spirit and sent in the name of Christ are called to stand up, to speak out, to do whatever we can to bring the poor out of poverty, to bring an end to violence both domestic and abroad, and to end the senseless killing of human life through abortion, euthanasia, and capital punishment.
To pray is a good thing – all good work must start with prayer. To give money to religious and humanitarian agencies that support human beings who are suffering or at risk is a good thing. To be confident in our own belief in the value and dignity of human life is a good thing. But if that’s all we do – not much more than pray, pay, and obey – if that’s all we do, then we’re missing something. To really bring glad tidings to the poor and liberty to captives, we must take the next step. Some people are called to volunteer with crisis counseling centers, helping young women who see abortion as the only choice to understand that there are other options; others are called to serve meals at a local soup kitchen. Some are called to work on Christian retreats in prisons, others are called to visit with and console the sick or the dying. Our Catholic tradition has called these actions the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy – the Corporal Works of Mercy: to feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty, to clothe the naked and shelter the homeless, to visit the sick and imprisoned and to bury the dead – and the Spiritual Works of Mercy: to counsel the doubtful and instruct the ignorant, to admonish the sinner and comfort the sorrowful, to forgive injuries and bear wrongs patiently, and to pray for the living and the dead. These are the actions that most unite us to the Body of Christ and help make Christ present in the world. Because if one part of the Body of Christ suffers, then all the parts suffer with it (1 Corinthians 12.26). In ways both great and small, we can help ease the suffering, we can help ease the pain, we can help the people of our city and the people of the world find hope in the presence of Christ. God can work miracles even in our very midst. And through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the light will scatter the darkness – now and always.
Nehemiah 8.2-4a, 8-10 Psalm 19 1 Corinthians 12.12-30 Luke 1.-4, 4.14-21
Many of us have been amazed this week to hear the stories of miracles coming from earthquake-ravaged Haiti. As recently as yesterday, 11 days after the quake, people have been pulled alive from the rubble – survivors against all odds. There is no earthly, human reason these people should be alive after being stuck in the midst of fallen buildings with no food or water for so long. But they are. With over 100,000 dead, even these few stories of survival are something of a miracle, a glimmer of light in a country facing unprecedented darkness and devastation.
I imagine that part of what has drawn the people of the world to care so much about the well-being of the people in Haiti is because the poverty of that country, in many ways, hinders their ability to help themselves. It’s not that we want to be seen as the saviors or almighty rescuers; it’s not that we want to be put in the spotlight because of the good that we can do. We want to do something because we know we have a responsibility, we know that our wealth and comfort and security puts us in a position to be able to bring food and shelter and hope to a people greatly in need. We are drawn to help the people of Haiti because we can, and because we must. Like Christ himself, we are called to “bring glad tidings to the lowly … to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind … to let the oppressed go free” (Luke 4.18). And that call is not limited to one group of people or one particular time. Whether it is the suffering people of Haiti, or the unjustly imprisoned; whether it is the victims of crime and war, or the unborn threatened by abortion – those of us who have been anointed by the Spirit and sent in the name of Christ are called to stand up, to speak out, to do whatever we can to bring the poor out of poverty, to bring an end to violence both domestic and abroad, and to end the senseless killing of human life through abortion, euthanasia, and capital punishment.
To pray is a good thing – all good work must start with prayer. To give money to religious and humanitarian agencies that support human beings who are suffering or at risk is a good thing. To be confident in our own belief in the value and dignity of human life is a good thing. But if that’s all we do – not much more than pray, pay, and obey – if that’s all we do, then we’re missing something. To really bring glad tidings to the poor and liberty to captives, we must take the next step. Some people are called to volunteer with crisis counseling centers, helping young women who see abortion as the only choice to understand that there are other options; others are called to serve meals at a local soup kitchen. Some are called to work on Christian retreats in prisons, others are called to visit with and console the sick or the dying. Our Catholic tradition has called these actions the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy – the Corporal Works of Mercy: to feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty, to clothe the naked and shelter the homeless, to visit the sick and imprisoned and to bury the dead – and the Spiritual Works of Mercy: to counsel the doubtful and instruct the ignorant, to admonish the sinner and comfort the sorrowful, to forgive injuries and bear wrongs patiently, and to pray for the living and the dead. These are the actions that most unite us to the Body of Christ and help make Christ present in the world. Because if one part of the Body of Christ suffers, then all the parts suffer with it (1 Corinthians 12.26). In ways both great and small, we can help ease the suffering, we can help ease the pain, we can help the people of our city and the people of the world find hope in the presence of Christ. God can work miracles even in our very midst. And through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the light will scatter the darkness – now and always.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Exercising our Baptismal Responsibility
Homily for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C
Isaiah 62.1-5 Psalm 96 1 Corinthians 12.4-11 John 2.1-11
There are certain responsibilities that come with our baptism. It’s true that the most important and lasting effects of baptism are not things that we can do, but what God gives to us – cleansing from original sin, incorporation into the Church, adoption as a son or daughter of God. But with those gifts, we are also given responsibilities. As baptized children of God, we are called to develop a relationship with him, to spend time in prayer and worship getting to know our heavenly father. As baptized children of God, we are called to recognize Christ in all our brother and sisters, and to treat them with the same love, respect, and compassion that we would show to Christ himself. As baptized children of God, we are called to turn away from evil and sin day by day and develop the habits that help us lead a moral life, one in which other people can see Christ in us. Each of us are called to exercise our baptism in different ways, using the specific spiritual gifts we have been given. Some of the baptized have done better in fulfilling these responsibilities than others. But regardless of who we are or what our past actions have been like, this is our call – to live as God’s children and to lead other people to Christ. And in these days, we are being called to exercise our baptismal responsibilities.
With millions of people in Haiti suffering from this week’s earthquakes, the stories of devastation from that country are almost unbelievable and unbearable. Haiti is the poorest country in the western hemisphere, with the effects of the earthquake devastating an already struggling country. The news reports are sometimes difficult to watch, and even the relief efforts seem to be encountering difficulties. There are some people have said that the earthquake was God’s response to evil present in the world. Others have said that it gives evidence that God does not exist – how could a loving God let disasters like this happen? As Christians, we believe that God does not and cannot cause suffering – but rather, he is with us in the suffering, feeling our pain and giving us comfort and peace. Natural disasters are just that – natural, not divinely inspired. The hand of God is found not in the destruction, but in the response. And that is where we are called to help, to exercise our baptismal responsibilities to recognize and care for Christ in the people of Haiti.
The question everyone asks is “how?” How can we help? First, of course, we must pray. The power of prayer cannot be overlooked. We pray for the people of Haiti, we pray for the organizations, governments, and individuals who at this very moment are bringing comfort and aid to the survivors of the earthquake. And we pray for the dead, that they come in peace to the kingdom of heaven. But we can do more. An online group has been formed encouraging Catholics to Fast for Haiti – to fast from one or more meals in the coming weeks and to donate the money that we save to the relief efforts. And for those of us many miles from the center of the earthquake, the promise of financial support can accompany our prayers across those miles to show in a very real way our solidarity with a portion of the people of God who are suffering terribly. Next weekend, we will take up a second collection to support the efforts of Catholic Relief Services in Haiti. Catholic Relief Services is the official international aid agency of the Catholic Church in the United States, and they have been working in Haiti for over 50 years. They already have several hundred staff members in Haiti and have pledged over $30 million worth of relief aid. Archbishop Daniel has asked that a portion of the collection taken in parishes of the Archdiocese of Indianapolis be directed specifically toward the rebuilding of the cathedral and seminaries in Haiti, all of which were destroyed this week.
The people of Haiti need our help. But it’s not just them, and it’s not just now. As Christians, we are called to recognize Christ in all people all around the world all the time and to do whatever we can so that all people can live a life worthy of who they are – children of God. Right now, our attention is directed to this small, poor Caribbean country. I am sure that we will rise to the occasion and provide the prayers and the assistance that we can. But there is a world of suffering, a world of hurt, from our own homes and families to the villages of Africa and Asia and everywhere in between. We cannot be silent; we cannot sit by and worry only about ourselves. Until all people can recognize Christ in us and we can recognize Christ in them, there is more work to be done. That work is our baptismal responsibility.
Isaiah 62.1-5 Psalm 96 1 Corinthians 12.4-11 John 2.1-11
There are certain responsibilities that come with our baptism. It’s true that the most important and lasting effects of baptism are not things that we can do, but what God gives to us – cleansing from original sin, incorporation into the Church, adoption as a son or daughter of God. But with those gifts, we are also given responsibilities. As baptized children of God, we are called to develop a relationship with him, to spend time in prayer and worship getting to know our heavenly father. As baptized children of God, we are called to recognize Christ in all our brother and sisters, and to treat them with the same love, respect, and compassion that we would show to Christ himself. As baptized children of God, we are called to turn away from evil and sin day by day and develop the habits that help us lead a moral life, one in which other people can see Christ in us. Each of us are called to exercise our baptism in different ways, using the specific spiritual gifts we have been given. Some of the baptized have done better in fulfilling these responsibilities than others. But regardless of who we are or what our past actions have been like, this is our call – to live as God’s children and to lead other people to Christ. And in these days, we are being called to exercise our baptismal responsibilities.
With millions of people in Haiti suffering from this week’s earthquakes, the stories of devastation from that country are almost unbelievable and unbearable. Haiti is the poorest country in the western hemisphere, with the effects of the earthquake devastating an already struggling country. The news reports are sometimes difficult to watch, and even the relief efforts seem to be encountering difficulties. There are some people have said that the earthquake was God’s response to evil present in the world. Others have said that it gives evidence that God does not exist – how could a loving God let disasters like this happen? As Christians, we believe that God does not and cannot cause suffering – but rather, he is with us in the suffering, feeling our pain and giving us comfort and peace. Natural disasters are just that – natural, not divinely inspired. The hand of God is found not in the destruction, but in the response. And that is where we are called to help, to exercise our baptismal responsibilities to recognize and care for Christ in the people of Haiti.
The question everyone asks is “how?” How can we help? First, of course, we must pray. The power of prayer cannot be overlooked. We pray for the people of Haiti, we pray for the organizations, governments, and individuals who at this very moment are bringing comfort and aid to the survivors of the earthquake. And we pray for the dead, that they come in peace to the kingdom of heaven. But we can do more. An online group has been formed encouraging Catholics to Fast for Haiti – to fast from one or more meals in the coming weeks and to donate the money that we save to the relief efforts. And for those of us many miles from the center of the earthquake, the promise of financial support can accompany our prayers across those miles to show in a very real way our solidarity with a portion of the people of God who are suffering terribly. Next weekend, we will take up a second collection to support the efforts of Catholic Relief Services in Haiti. Catholic Relief Services is the official international aid agency of the Catholic Church in the United States, and they have been working in Haiti for over 50 years. They already have several hundred staff members in Haiti and have pledged over $30 million worth of relief aid. Archbishop Daniel has asked that a portion of the collection taken in parishes of the Archdiocese of Indianapolis be directed specifically toward the rebuilding of the cathedral and seminaries in Haiti, all of which were destroyed this week.
The people of Haiti need our help. But it’s not just them, and it’s not just now. As Christians, we are called to recognize Christ in all people all around the world all the time and to do whatever we can so that all people can live a life worthy of who they are – children of God. Right now, our attention is directed to this small, poor Caribbean country. I am sure that we will rise to the occasion and provide the prayers and the assistance that we can. But there is a world of suffering, a world of hurt, from our own homes and families to the villages of Africa and Asia and everywhere in between. We cannot be silent; we cannot sit by and worry only about ourselves. Until all people can recognize Christ in us and we can recognize Christ in them, there is more work to be done. That work is our baptismal responsibility.
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