Sunday Readings

Intentionally Faithful

(Mass will be held this Sunday in the Bronx Botanical Gardens)

Like the Christmas shopping season, the election season begins way too early. We hear endless speeches, programs, and strategies that promise remarkable and lasting changes. But in the end, without cynicism, what really matters is action. And the fuel of every pre-election runoff is the realization that, for better or for worse, action is absent. The substitution of words and promises means precious little.

The same is already true of the school year. Now roughly one month into it, all those good intentions, promises, and purchases of school supplies may or may not lead to success. I am sure there are more than a few students across the street from here at Fordham University who can give a sad ‘Amen’ to that.

But despite our patterns and history, we as human beings value our best intentions. Catholic moral theology has always placed heavy emphasis on human intention because it is a reflection of our faith in action. Falsely, and popularly, we have the expression "the road to hell is paved with good intentions." We believe, however, the opposite is true. Still, we know that intentions are not enough.

The Gospel today is a teaching about the unity of intention and action. Both sons in the Gospel are wrong. The first did not follow through on his promise and the second was disrespectful to authority. Neither was perfect or faithful. But the second son, in the end, did the right thing. He had a conversion or a change of heart.

But we say, "hold on a second. At least the first son intended to do good." Is it really fair to be so harsh on someone who intended to do good? From God’s perspective, the answer is not about judgment or harshness or anything else. It is about doing the will of God. Failing that, we cannot say bad good has truly been done.

Welcome to the human situation. St. Paul himself said that the good he intends to do he does not do and the evil he wishes to avoid he does not avoid. What is the answer then? It certainly isn't more words and promises. And actions are flawed at best. The answer is fidelity.

Fidelity is a virtue of the habit of doing the will of God as best we can discern and as best we can achieve. There is an inbuilt imperfection because we are human beings. Fear not, God already knows this because He made us. And results are not what He is looking for.

Mother Teresa is famous for saying, "God wants fidelity, not success." The hypocrites and sinners who come to church each Sunday and pray after each mistake are those dearest to the heavenly Father. It is never about God loving the good or bad boy. It is about God just loving those who try to love Him.

Our prayer today, surrounded by this beauty, is that our fidelity will emerge from even our inconsistency and with the help of God’s grace, will become a thing of beauty for the Lord.

Oh My!

Very few here would be surprised if I opened this homily with that often repeated expression, “oh my!” It was Sister Gertrude's signature phrase known by fellow religious, residents, family, and friends. It covered every aspect of life. It was her instinctive reaction to anything new, negative, or just plain overwhelming. When she came home once from the hospital, some third-floor residents put a welcome note on her door with these words. She later remarked to me – with a giggle – that she must say it more often than she realized.

But this was much more than a mere catchphrase. It mirrored something very deep.

The readings today all speak of an unspeakable mystery at the heart of the Christian soul. It is vital presence of God Himself dwelling in the center of the human being. The immortal perfection of God rests comfortably in the mortal weakness of the human person.

Her decades of service to countless human beings experiencing that weakness here, in France, and so many other places was her act of faith in this mystery. She firmly believed what the crowds in today's Gospel scornfully rejected. She believed that the Creator of all life was powerful enough to dwell in the temporary habitations of the human body. It was a faith she lived even if it wasn't always a feeling she felt. Faith is not feeling to begin off with but a decision and a determination guided by grace. And this grace was something we all saw.

It must've been so hard for her to see what St. Paul describes so well as this earthly habitation being ransacked by illness and weakness. She struggled with it heroically over these past few weeks. She said to me that it was difficult to keep hearing bad news day after day. And then she immediately asked if I had enough orange juice and milk. She would say how uncomfortable an upcoming procedure was going to be and wanted to make sure the rain guards were in place to prevent flooding from hurricane Irene. She wanted to know what was going on here even as she knew she wouldn't be able to be a part of it. It was not a faith that ignored reality or pretended a new one. It was real and she was faithful.

Religious profession is considered a spiritual marriage. Women religious are correctly called ' brides of Christ.' Even the secular world understands this. And like any marriage, the commitment is for everything – “in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.” It's fair to say that sister Gertrude was faithful to her divine Spouse. She went through the good and the bad times with Him as He weakened and suffered in the persons of those she ministered to as a Little Sister. She experienced in herself sickness and health as the One she loved stood by her. Each new day may have brought the same old same old but each day was new. Every “oh my” was a childlike surprise at the reality God permitted and was in.

We saw this active faith so often every morning. Her list of things to do for each one of us seemed as if it was the first time she had done it. It is one of God's blessings to see even the most ordinary things as through a child's eyes exploring the world for the first time. That is the true fountain of youth. No sooner was she home from one of her “vacations” in the hospital that we began to see her with sheets and towels knocking gently on our doors. You can't do this with that much energy without something deeper than the need to do something. The joy of making life better for Christ Himself was a power greater than her slowly failing ability would ever prevent.

There is no question she is going to be missed by so many and for so many reasons. The stories we have been telling over these past few days are happy reflections and joyful testimonies to her fidelity. We are grateful to Almighty God to have had the opportunity to have known this true daughter of Jeanne Jugan. We proudly recount the years of service to so many that are the true wealth of the Little Sisters of the Poor. We commend her to the God she served so well and who stood by her, even at times silently, as she did.

We can only imagine her wonder at the gates of heaven. I like to think she was greeted by throngs of family and Sisters and especially those many residents who she helped usher to those very gates. We all know what she would have said as this heavenly crowd of witnesses escorted her to the throne of God flanked by Jeanne Jugan and Mary, the mother of sorrows and the cause of our joy. She must have looked at all of this and said, “oh my.”

And a voice then came from that starry throne saying, “oh my you are now mine forever.”

Oh my indeed, Sister Gertrude. Rest in peace.

Sunday Readings

Imagine

This past week I found myself thinking of one of Aesop fables, Androcles and the Lion. It's a short story. Androcles removes a thorn from a young lion’s front paw. Years later, he finds himself thrown into the arena as they released a ferocious lion. As the lion approaches for this tasty treat, he recognizes Androcles from that long-ago act of kindness. And rather than have him for lunch, the lion sits down next to him like a kitty cat. It is message to appreciate even the simplest of good things.

It would be easy to preach today’s Gospel as a warning against cheapening God's goodness. But the generosity of God overwhelms even our worst failures to appreciate it. Like Androcles and the lion, goodness is greater than our comprehension of it. An act of infidelity may be a lack of appreciation while our most daring act of faith may be the divine imagination.

The goodness of God defies our most creative conceptions of it. We can be positive and truly believe that every cloud has a silver lining. But our faith offers us more than a few clouds; it gives us the entire heavens. It challenges us to not only find good where we don't think it exists but to even believe that God is able to work in the lives of others we judged to be bad. It is a creed in the Divine Artist who makes a masterpiece out of something you couldn't even sell on eBay.

In the First reading, we hear that God's ‘thoughts are not our thoughts nor are His ways our ways’. When they are, we commit the sin of idolatry which makes God into our own image. What we fashion is an image without imagination. It is a deity who is limited only by ourselves. Fidelity is the opposite of idolatry. It is the submission of heart and mind to the absolute creativity of God. John Lennon wrote a song called “Imagine” which invites the listener to imagine a world made only in the human image of selected virtues. While some of them are noble, atheism is not especially when we play God imagining the world without Him. Our faith is not a belief in what we have conceived but in what God has so generously done for us.

Today's parable is not about what we have done to deserve God's favor but how highly favored we are by God's grace. Enjoying the goodness of God we experience in this life is not the prerogative of the privileged few. It is the right and, perhaps, even the obligation of every Christian. Enjoy it in your own life, appreciate it in the lives of those around you, and be surprised where you expect to find it the least. One simple act of praise removes the thorns of bitterness we all gather. And yet, that one act of fidelity will have an impact we can never imagine.

And one day appreciating that mystery will lead us to another, and to another, and so on. In other words, we can only imagine God's goodness forever and ever. Amen.

Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way where I am going." Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?" Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me. - St. John

I almost can't believe we have come to the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I looked back, as we all have, on that day which has brought us to this day. Everywhere we turn the images are brought back as they bring us back. Memory is the defining characteristic of this anniversary. We remember a different world that only seemed to be safer.

But today is not the 10th anniversary of the attack on the World Trade Center. Today is the 10th anniversary of the 2nd attack on the World Trade Center. Our sense of security was built on the convenience of forgetting the past. We grow very comfortable with a certain forgetfulness that seems to dull our fears.

I don't think it will happen for some time for those who remember what happened here in our City. I can't say that about the future. History is tragically not on our side. We have seen evil before. Devastating plagues and unimaginable natural disasters have wiped out whole populations. Human beings have violated God's gift of life in wars and genocides from the dawn of civilization. We rationalize, excuse, and just plain ignore the face of evil. 10 years ago today that was impossible to do. 10 years later have we chosen to forget?

In our contemporary pagan world, religion has been defined by murderous heretics and extremists. Time-tested revealed truths seem to have been made optional. Sincerity has become a virtue while wrongdoing is merely a poor choice. We have become our own standards of belief. I hear people on television speaking of Ground Zero as a place inhabited by the souls of those who died there. There is no mention of God or His mercy that brings safely home the victims of evil actions. Personally, the idea of spending eternity in a waterfall or a train station constitutes nothing less than oblivion. Jesus Christ promised something more than this. He promised us nothing less than His Father's own house.

So what do we do to allay our fear of forgetting? We read the names of those who were lost.

There is no question how powerful this is for us. Each name represents the real person and their entire world. There is a temporary comfort in this. We are remembering to not forget. But who are we speaking to? Are we just saying names to convince ourselves that the mere mention of the name guarantees eternity? The ancient Egyptians believed that and carved their names in Stone. What is being done (right now) at Ground Zero is very similar. We are attempting to inscribe on our memories the human faces of this historic event. That's a good thing of itself but it is nothing more. It was never intended to be.

Our response here today builds on our human memory to the priestly privilege we all share in commending those names, those human beings, to the perfect and eternal memory of God. We speak the names of these victims in our prayer. We mention them in the Canon of the Mass with the hopeful confidence that our Savior will mention them before the throne of the Father. We trust that our remembrance in this place will never be forgotten in the halls of heaven.

10 years ago we were afraid. We certainly had a right to be. In many ways and for many good reasons, we still are. Like the disciples in today's gospel, we ask God to show us the way out of our fears. It is only in the Person of Jesus Christ who encountered, endured, and conquered what we fear the most that we find our truest consolation. He is the way out of the darkness of despair, the truth in place of our lies, and the life when all we can see is death. 10 years ago our prayer was strong when we were not. We found comfort in God's presence and strength when we were together. In the face of diabolical hatred our reply was a unifying kindness. We worshiped in church instead of burning down a mosque. Our rebuilding became an act of faith against the infidelity that could only tear down. And there is no cause or excuse for that work to stop.

So today we remember, first of all, those who were lost and those they left behind. (We will speak their names here at the altar on earth knowing they will be echoed before the heavenly altar.) We remember the first responders and the later responders who said ‘yes’ to the call to serve and to strengthen. We are grateful as a nation to all who guided us through those dark days and we pray for those who have been entrusted with the future yet to be. And as a true family of faith confident in the peace of God which is beyond all understanding, we pray for a devoted fidelity that will see us through the cross to the glory of the resurrection.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies
Heaven's morning breaks and earth's vain shadows flee
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

Sunday Readings

Common Keepers

At this time of year, older siblings throughout the land are entrusted with younger siblings for the journey to and from school. I myself have experienced this and have seen it repeated many times. Whether in a yellow school bus, on a subway, or by foot we learn early that we are responsible for one another. Even without siblings, in families, school, and work, we are inescapably in each other's care. The good we do benefits everyone and the bad we do diminishes all.

We call this ‘community’ and it is simply what it means to live as a human being in the world. From the perspective of our faith, we understand it as the Communion of Saints.

In the First reading, the prophet Ezekiel is given his mission by God to warn the people against wrongdoing. But Ezekiel is not merely responsible for speaking words as much as he is also responsible for the audience who listens (or not). In the Gospel, Jesus gives a plan for conflict resolution that involves everyone.

If either of these two situations became the topic of discussion on your average daytime talk show, the usual conclusion would be, “you cannot take this responsibility on yourself because you are the only one who matters.” And to be honest, they would be right. We simply cannot carry the world on our shoulders. Any attempt to do so would crush even the strongest person. So there must be something more than the impossible weight of unresolvable guilt.

There is and we find it in the Second reading. St. Paul tells the Romans to owe no one anything except “the debt of love.” It shifts the responsibility we have for one another from the ego to the heart. The love we know from God is our starting point rather than the noblest of human values. And since that divine love has called us into a communion with one another known as the Church, our relationships with one another are grounded in God's grace instead of our goodness or generosity. What is impossible for human beings is possible for God.

At the beginning, Cain asked God if he was his brother's keeper. The answer is “yes” because God is our keeper. He lifts us up on eagles’ wings so we can carry each other in safety. We encourage, correct, warn, and guide each other because we are together. No, we do not do it perfectly or live up to it perfectly. We are free of the weight of that obligation because God does not expect us to. We are only asked to be faithful to one another and to Him. That can ultimately be our only standard of success.

In our modern world, community is too often a cheap word for easy relationships. They are often more virtual than real. There are no strings attached and no obligation of love. There is no demand to be the keeper of someone who is no deeper than a profile picture on a screen.

Religion is sadly sometimes the same. We are tempted to be surrounded by the things of God without the need to know God. We want Him to keep us in His care so long as He doesn't keep too tight a grip on us. As the old Irish prayer says, “May God keep you in the palm of his hand and not tighten His fist on you.”

We have a vocation to live something much bigger with our God and with each other. In all the struggles of common living and trying to be faithful to our God we find the only way to do it is to imitate the love we see at the heart of the Cross.

So at the beginning of this new year (and we all know that the Tuesday after Labor Day is really New Year's Day and not that freezing day following December), watch out for each other, make this journey with each other, and be one another's keeper. And do this not because you can, but because God already is.