Sunday Readings

Hôpital Sacré Coeur in Haiti is a Malta Hospital in need.

Catholic Relief Services assisting Haiti
Good News

Any leader deals with three inescapable realities. In whatever setting or profession it remains true that 10% love you, 10% that you, and 80% just don't care about you. Every coach, teacher, president, or pastor can give a hearty shout back to this one. And while the numbers may vary from time to time, Jesus would personally experience what this means. In today's Gospel, his popularity took a serious hit.

Religion has a way of stirring up passions that are strong and divisive. Good manners even demands it is one of the three subjects we should not bring up in polite company. It has the power to unite the family and divide the family. It has built up society and ripped it apart at the seams. On a personal level, we all struggle with faith and morals in daily life. The demands of what is good and true can become a flashpoint of conflict in the quietest parts of our lives.

So whether it is Jesus in His hometown or privately in our daily routine, the "good news" of our faith may appear to be unwelcomed news.

And you know, that's understandable. Many of us have experienced religion that is misused as a sledgehammer or a program of behavioral modification. Sadly, it is the tendency of human beings to misuse divine revelation for these lesser purposes.

But equally I hope we can all say that we have encountered faith that is truly inspirational. We can choose to look beyond the cold misunderstanding of God's revelation to the brilliant fire of sincere conviction. Most of us have encountered people -- even family members -- who deeply understood and ardently tried to live the truly good news of God's mercy. As a church family, we refer to them as "saints." As a human family, we refer to those relatives and neighbors in the same way.

It's easy to see that we have a paradox here. We have a good message that meets a bad reaction. We are presented with a message of love that meets with great hatred. It seems as if friendship with God leads to a crowd of enemies.

The truly hopeful news -- for Jeremiah, for Jesus, and for us -- does not leave us in this irreconcilable stalemate. God's grace is greater than any human conflict. Our best reasoning yields to a more powerful love.

Our victory is not so much having the right answer, but being in the right place. By the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, we like Jesus passed through the crowd of questions and concerns in order to move on. We hear and speak words that are challenging to us secure not in the challenge of those words, but in the One who spoke them.

Our faith calls us to perfection but never anticipates us to be perfect. We hear the good news whether we are bad or good. We claim freedom even as we bind ourselves by faults and sins.

And why bother with it all? It's simple.

St. Paul gives us that reason in the second reason reading today. Love is patient, kind, long-suffering -- even if we are not.

Because ultimately, our faith is not about how we behave as much as it is about the reason we try. And that reason -- the only good one -- is the God who is love itself.

Sunday Readings

Hôpital Sacré Coeur in Haiti is a Malta Hospital in need.

Catholic Relief Services assisting Haiti
Vision Rebuilt

I think we all may have an idea of what it means to rebuild something. Most of us have experienced damage from storms to our homes, cars, and the like. Fewer of us may have experienced the destructive power of tornadoes and floods. But almost all of us have seen the ruins of what stood in Haiti. The worldwide response of generosity is a testament to something very good in humanity. But so much needs to be done.

As some one wisely said recently, this is not "a one-day war." The rebuilding efforts in this devastated and desperately poor nation will go on long after the collections are taken up and the Hollywood altruism has faded. If you listen to so many of the survivors there seems to be a genuine sense of commitment to rebuilding a nation that was hardly built up to start off with.

The readings today also speak of rebuilding. The displaced persons of what was left of Israel were starting to return to Jerusalem. So many had assimilated over the past 50 years and so few returned. It must have been a daunting task.

Jesus returns to His hometown and to the way of life they had known for generation after generation. It was a subsistence society that depended on generational continuity of employment. One could say, that it was a society bound tight by tedium.

Separated by hundreds of years, both societies needed to be rebuilt. This long-term task could be fueled by only one enduring thing -- a vision formed by God. And as both of these visionaries unrolled those sacred texts, they found in them the enduring grace of renovation.

Ezra proclaimed to the people in a way of life long forgotten; Jesus offers a salvation never imagined. Perhaps in a way no one at the time could ever see with human eyes, something very new had begun as the ancient scrolls were rolled up.

Whether it's a medical regime or the Marshall plan, the vision of the future rests solidly only in the human heart. Without vision, without hope, actions become meaningless. The temporary constructions of ordinary life become nothing more than rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

Today, people do not lead lives of quiet desperation; they broadcast them on Facebook pages, social networking sites, and afternoon talk shows. So many are too busy publicly lamenting their despair to hear the word of possibility, of hope, of redemption, and especially of vision. There is just too much noise from within and from without to hear the words of that vision which are the words of the Lord himself.

It is strange how in times of disaster, so many notice how quiet things become. I'm sure many of us can remember the sharp silence on the afternoon of 9/11. Reporters commented on it in the debris-strewn streets of Port-au-Prince. Maybe we've heard it also as we left the hospital or the emergency room. It is as if everything around us -- material spiritual, visible and invisible -- is trying to listen, trying to hear something.

Even in moments of joy and triumph that silence is very real. Think of the stunned speechlessness of the new owner of a golden statue or a gleaming trophy. Look at the quiet eyes of a new parent holding a new life in their arms for the first time. How we long to see the wordless smile on the joyful face of the team that just won. In the good, the bad, and the boring, we all listen for something more and look for something greater.

Not everyone hears it; not everyone is listening. The people of God’s election would continue to stray from Him as surely as the people of His hometown would reject Him. And even the greatest compliments and most sincere acknowledgments will never guarantee total success. Unless the vision is from on high and from the mouth of the Lord, hope will not endure.

But in our struggle to be holy, we hear the word of God over and over again. The Church continues to proclaim the vision of a restored and redeemed humanity called to be the people of God. But all of our sins, faults, weaknesses, and idiosyncrasies -- God still sees more in us then we see in ourselves. His grace argues against our despair. His hope stands firm against our every reason not to. And through the haze of our wanderings, if we listen, we begin to see traces of light.

Take time to listen to the things that are greater than everything else that is wrong. The rebuilding has begun already.

Sunday Readings

Hôpital Sacré Coeur in Haiti is a Malta Hospital in need.

Catholic Relief Services assisting Haiti
A Miracle

This should have been a great homily on God working extraordinary miracles in ordinary circumstances. It could've been a sermon on the dignity and the possibility of marriage. We could have celebrated God's provision and bounty in this life.

But there was an earthquake in Haiti. Most of us were not aware that earthquakes happened in this area. And for the past couple of days, we have been seeing images on television that are horrifying. And many of us hear the sharp echo of a September day a little more than nine years ago.

This is a total disaster. The stories we are hearing are tragic and dramatic. And even as the social fabric begins to unwind in the shadow of dwindling basic necessities, we still hear survivors singing and praying and hoping. Throughout the Catholic Church today, a second collection will be taken for Catholic Relief Services which has continued to be one of the most effective relief agencies in the world.

From a distance, we respond with sympathy, prayer, and money. There is something at the heart of who we are that calls us to do this. We know, as revealed doctrine, what we do for those in need is what we do for Christ Himself and an act of charity becomes thereby an act of worship. In ways we can see on the television, we become the answer to someone else's prayer.

But do not mistake this for an appeal to generosity. No one should have to. If a preacher did that today, it would be living proof that his audience can in no wise be called Catholic or Christian. Someone who cannot see human suffering is incapable of seeing the face of God.

No, instead we hear of another disaster, if we dare call it one, at a party. This is a social disaster -- someone didn't do their job stocking the provisions for a wedding -- but it is not outside God's concern. There is no accusation of wrongdoing or negligence, only a solution. A mother’s quiet but heavy remark becomes an intersession producing a miracle. But the end result was more than survival or escaping embarrassment; it is faith.

Archbishop Dolan remarked, as he prayed before the Pieta in the Vatican, that Haiti is the broken body of Christ laying in His mother's arms. And once again, in sorrow, she is the Mater Dolorosa, the mother of suffering. She calls out to for her Son - whose body we are, "they have no more water, no more food, no more shelter."

And even as she calls out, the C-47’s, the aircraft carriers, and the trucks are heading to that desperate place loaded fat with those necessities her Son needs. Is this a miracle, a sign? Can we dare say in the middle of all this suffering, that the end product is faith?

I certainly hope it can. We are a nation at war with terrorism yet our military is used in a purely humanitarian mission. In the middle of a poor economy, people are donating. We are responding to the needs of a society that in no way can benefit our politicians or our banks. The water is being turned into wine – and faith can see it.

Cynics do not. They see the cruel hand of natural selection at work. They see God -- if there is a God -- arbitrarily destroying the innocent and guilty alike. We heard the inane ramblings of a wolf in sheep's clothing trying to prove that Haiti was being punished by a vindictive God for a non-existent pact with the devil generations long past. None of these -- even the supposedly religious -- would recognize a miracle if it hit them with a 2 x 4.

No, the muddy waters of a devastated Caribbean nation are being turned, if only for a brief time, into the wine of human kindness. This is the first of what we pray will be many signs that God is with us.

Is it perfect? Should we condemn the modern tendencies of knee-jerk compassion and one-shot generosity? Some commentators may feel inclined to that and may even be right. But Mary did not call her Son to lament the lack but to fill the need.

Today we pray that we may have that same vision. As we intercede for and substantially support our brothers and sisters in Haiti, we ask for the gift of true faith. We pray that in all the disasters, in all the difficulties of everyday life, we may have faith and drink of the new wine of the kingdom of God who is with us.

Sunday Readings

2009 Christmas Card
Baptized Unto Glory

Today we celebrate a question: why would Jesus, the sinless Son of God, be baptized? Our experience of baptism does not include the reason why Jesus Himself would have undergone this religious practice. John the Baptist even wondered toit himself. After all, John's preaching, as the Scriptures tell us, was toward a "baptism of repentance."

So here we have a ritual cleansing of sin being performed on Someone who was incapable of sin. From our perspective, baptism is the result of a conversion experience for adults and an absolution of original sin for infants. In recent years, we have tried to emphasize the more positive aspects of the sacrament to balance and exclude a negative understanding. I think this is important because it goes to the heart of this mystery.

But this is more than a choice or a preference. In fact it is a mystery. Baptism is the action of God more than the decision of human beings. So instead of looking primarily to our own experience or even our own understanding, we look to the mystery of the baptism of the Lord.

What happens here today is the consecration of all that is human by nature or decision. It sanctifies what is ordinary to each person. It reorders what at times may be chaotic and may become a vehicle of grace. More than anything else, it carries the seal of the Father's approval. The eastern church has always understood this event as a sanctification not only of humanity but also of the material world itself.

But we still are faced with a choice.

Most of us have a basic understanding of what was popularized as the "power of positive thinking." We see outlines of it in from things Oriental philosophy to improving a golf game. We become convinced that things are the way we choose them to be. This can be very useful but it is also very limited.

The choice of Baptism is not a choice between sin and godly living. Baptism is the Father's acceptance of each one of us. It is not positive thinking as much as it is graced realization. We see in Christ the forgiveness of our sins and the call to eternal glory. In His baptism, we see the best of our fallen humanity. And as the heavenly Father accepted the consecration of His Son, we are accepted as we begin the long and difficult journey to holiness.

Today, we look back the moment when Jesus began His public ministry. Because of our incorporation into Him through our own baptism, we can look back on His ministry in us thus far. We ask ourselves if grace in our life is doing more then only forgiven our sins. Or to put it better, are we cooperating with God's grace to transform us as forgiven and sanctified Christians?

Twice a year, when we go to Lourdes, part of the pilgrimage is to visit the baptismal font where St. Bernadette was baptized. We realize that it was there her life of faith began. I remember that same profound feeling when I was part of a pilgrimage to Poland in 1991 for World Youth Day. We took pictures standing around the baptismal font of Pope John Paul II. Our prayer today is to have that same experience every time we wet our hands at the entrance to this sacred space and make the sign of the Cross with the holy water recalling our baptism.

The mystery of baptism - which we celebrate today in the Baptism of the Lord - is the mystery of holiness. We can hear the Father's forgiveness because we heard His acceptance first. We may know our faults but He believes in our possibilities. Baptism is the clearest "yes" humanity can understand.

So in the wonder of the baptized Incarnation, I ask you to stand and renew the promises of your own baptism...

Sunday Readings

2009 Christmas Card
Looking Up

Now that our Christmas gifts are mostly given and exchanged, we turn on the news to find out if it was a good or poor holiday shopping season. The retail sales and statistics will be available soon pointing to how much earlier next year's Christmas season will begin. The secular celebration of Christmas is very clear and very accurate in dealing with what is right in front of them.

Let's do the same thing. On this feast of the Epiphany, we have two distinct approaches to the Christmas event.

The first is King Herod. It happened right under his nose. He had access to the prophecies and the traditions. He had it down to the very coordinates the Messiah would choose for his appearance.

The second approach are the Magi. From far away and from a foreign tradition, they also came into the neighborhood. They kept looking up until they could look into the face of the newborn King.

Both of them discovered Bethlehem. Both of these came to the "Christmas conclusion" but the results were very different. Herod looked down for a threat to his shaky hold on power. The Magi looked up beyond themselves for something far greater.

I guess it would be safe to leave it at that; let us draw our own conclusions from these two examples. The Magi found the divine gift of God while Herod sought to extinguish it. I believe this would be a correct assessment of the situation.

But let's go a step further. Let's ask what happened after the event.

Herod may have been very happy thinking he was secure in his authority. He may have thought it was a great success to eliminate any of those children who could have threatened his puppet dynasty. In other words, the Christmas event was merely one of many small sacrifices he was more than willing to make.

The Magi may have walked away from the Christ child content to think they had honored what the universe directed them to venerate. It may be their children or grandchildren who would know what that Child would become, but not them. The misty darkness which led them there may not have lifted.

Epiphany leaves us hanging. We just do not know how it turned out in the end for the principal players. It is only Jesus and His mother Mary who emerge at the end of the Gospel. We do not even have a record of St. Joseph after this point.

And yet the church calls this the feast of the Manifestation to all the world. In the person of the Magi, all nations are invited to come and adore the newborn King. It is as if the church is saying, "behold the Answer to the question no one has asked.”

But humanity does ask this question. We ask it in the moments of pain and difficulty. We wonder it in times of success and triumph. We recognize it as the background noise to daily life. It is a question of our ultimate purpose and reason for life. And because it is a question higher than ourselves, it becomes a matter of faith.

The feast of the Epiphany is a celebration of faith. It asks us if we are willing to look up to God for guidance rather than to the darkness of our self-centeredness. It invites us to join the shepherds and the Magi but also to leave the nativity scene for the rest of life. We look back at the shimmering silent night of Christmas now past and ask if we saw what was there. We take stock, as the marketing folks do, and determine if it was a good Christmas.

By a few minutes, the light is lengthening each day. If we ignore the freezing weather, we can trick ourselves that Spring is around the corner. Christmas is over but the faith it invites is not. So many cards wished us the blessing of keeping the “spirit of Christmas” throughout the year. I’m not sure what they mean by the “spirit of Christmas” except to mean the faith we celebrate here in the God who became like us so we could become like Him.

May the blessing of this Epiphany keep us all looking up for the grace to have faith in the One who remains by our side.