December 6, 2020 At St. Peter & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Isaiah 40, 5, 9-11, 19 + Psalm 85 + 2 Peter 8, 1-14 + Mark 1, 1-8

The first two words of Mark’s Gospel are important for anyone who wants to be open to the power of God’s Word. Does anyone here remember what those two words were? They are the same words that open the Book of Genesis, the story of Creation, and reveal the wonder of God. They are the same first words of John’s Gospel too. There should be a drum roll when we hear those words: “The beginning”, says Mark as he proclaims the coming age of the Messiah, the beginning of a new work of God as original and stupendous as the creation of the universe.  “Prepare”, says a man in the wilderness dressed like Elijah whose return in the faith of Israel signaled the age of the Messiah. If “wait” was the word from last week’s Gospel, today we are told by the Gospel what we should do, prepare.

We have just been through a preparation time getting ready for Thanksgiving. For some of us it was a day of grocery shopping, cooking, baking, and table setting. Now, like it or not, we are all preparing again. This time it is for Christmas. There are cards to address, lists to make, shopping on line, and decorations to put out. In the middle of all of this, our Church puts before us a strange, austere, humorless character out in the desert as reminder that Israel’s time for preparation took place in the desert. That wild man John, leads those people to the Jordan just as Moses led Israel to the water through which they crossed into the promised land where it all began just as it was promised to them.

My friends, these pandemic days have been a kind of “desert” experience for most of us. We are away from family and others we love. We have broken some plans, missed old ways of doing things, skipped celebrations, and some of us have even lost friends who have died alone while we cannot embrace the grieving. Here in this wilderness of a pandemic, Mark speaks of beginnings, and we might take the time today or all through this season to think of our beginning, the beginning of our faith, the beginning of our life. Baptism was that beginning for all of us, and we might do well to ask ourselves what was it the beginning of, and is there any evidence that what began is moving toward fulfillment?

Many of us love to play the role of Santa around this time of the year. I’ve already chipped in with my brother-in-law to get some great gifts for his grandchildren, my grandnephews. They will be so excited! I’m still thinking about just what to give my nieces and a few close friends. We all love to play Santa. Yet, there is another role for us that is not so easily understood and not always as much fun. At the time of our Baptisms, there was an expectation that we become Baptizers and embrace the work of the Baptizer, take on the call to be a herald like John as we go through this holiday season.

When we were anointed in the Rite of Baptism, these words were spoken as the Sacred Chrism touched our heads still wet from the water. Listen carefully them now. “The God of power and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ has freed you from sin, and given you a new birth by water and the Holy Spirit, and welcomed you into his holy people. He now anoints you with the chrism of salvation. As Christ was anointed Priest, Prophet, and King, so my you live always as a member of body, sharing in everlasting life.”

We are a priestly people who offer sacrifice and prayers for others. We are a royal people who do the works of Justice and Peace teaching, leading, and serving in the style and image of Christ the King. We are a prophetic people too, a people who take on the role of the prophet which means we are a people who proclaim. We, by the power of God, take on the prophetic work of transforming the wilderness and the wastelands around us into harvests of justice and forgiveness creating highways for our God to enter and re-create our world in charity and peace. It has begun, says this Gospel today. It is not right for us to stand in the way of God’s re-creation. We are the ones who prepare in these days for its fulfillment.

November 29, 2020 At St. Peter & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Isaiah 63, 16-17, 19 64, 2-7, + Psalm 80 + 1 Corinthians 1, 3-9 + Mark 33-37

Most of us live with a variety of different calendar years. Depending, I suppose, on your age and your state in life, one or more of them matters more than others. When I was in school, the “School year” was all that mattered, while for my parents there were others that demanded attention. Then, when I became a priest and eventually a pastor, there was the school year, because the parish had a school. There was the fiscal year, because I had to produce reports. There was the calendar year which I’ve always thought was an odd name since all the others are on the “calendar” as well. At one parish where there was a significant population of Vietnamese people, and I learned to pay attention to the Lunar Year and a holiday called Tết, the most important celebration in Vietnamese culture. The word is a shortened form of Tết Nguyên Đán, which is Vietnamese for “Feast of the First Morning of the First Day”. All the while, as a Catholic, there is yet another “year” called “The Liturgical Year” which begins for us today. Regardless of which one might organize your life, the year behind us or shortly to be behind us as has left us all physically, emotionally, and spiritually tired. A year of upheaval, surprises, change, turmoil, anxiety, fear, confusion, disappointment, disillusionment, and detachment only begins to describe how we feel. We have run out of words, and we have been forced to “die” to so many things, routines, celebrations, customs, and sometimes relationships. Our familiar ways, our security has been shaken forcing us into the unknown.

As I have reflected on this, it seems to me that we are a bit like the Israelites wandering in the desert for forty years. Wondering where we are going and how long it will take to get there. On top of that, we’re not even sure than when we get there we will like it, but we can hope. What we have discovered is that the mess we are in is not something we can fix on our own. Some would like to try it, but that only makes it worse. Some really struggle and resist learning that lesson.

For us, people of faith, there comes this message today that encourages us to stay awake and watch. Some may wonder and ask the question: “Watch and wait for what?” The current pandemic, political struggles, and Church concerns all find us waiting for solutions to problems, resolutions to conflicts, vaccines for disease, and leadership that can truly be effective and trusted. These are worthy pursuits and necessary, they are all worldly, and they raise hopes that can easily bring disappointment. People of faith know that real hope is found somewhere else.

My friends, the Divine Light that burns within every soul cannot be extinguished. We begin this new year of our faith with the reminder that by Love’s power we will discover something that will make sense. Real hope rests on the firm belief that we are hard-wired for union with God and that God’s will is always creative and sustains what we do. This is the only way we can ever see light in dark moments when people all around us are giving up and walking away. Our hope in faith is joyfully rooted in God’s promise that allows us to watch and wait. It gives us reason to stay the course, even when we may want to just close our eyes and get some sleep hoping to wake up and find that this year has just been a bad dream.

In a moment of divine inspiration St. Paul told us that three things will last: faith, hope, and love. They are three intimate companions on our journey through this life. They are gifts given to us who believe. They help us stay strong, simple, and focused on what matters when everything else is out of control.  This is the power that brought Israel out of the land of Egypt, inspired prophets to speak the truth, raised Jesus from the dead, and sent the Gospel to a weary world. If we have to express in words what we can watch and wait for it is very simple. It is how we get through all suffering and even face death. Six words in English say it all: The Best is Yet to Come.

November 22, 2020 – St. Peter the Apostle & St. William Church in Naples, FL

Ezekiel 34, 11-12. 15-17 + 1 Corinthians 15:20-26, 28 + Matthew 25:31-46

This is the final parable in Matthew’s Gospel, and it may be the most challenging of them all. It not only challenges our image of Christ and his identity, it challenges our identity as well. The image of Christ as “King” that artists have put before us is in stark contrast to the image of Christ as King proposed for us in the Gospel. What artists often give us is a man crowned with gold and jewels, wrapped in luxurious robes, seated on a thrown staring at us with blank, empty eyes. What the Gospel gives us is a tortured and innocent man hanging on cross with crown of thorns. The only jewels are the drops of his blood. The robes are gone. He is stripped of everything, his clothing, his dignity, his friends, and life itself. A sign above his head is all that declares him a King. When it comes to his identity, it would seem from the Gospels that a Shepherd was his chosen identity probably because of our scriptures constantly connect Jesus and King David, the shepherd boy who becomes the great King of Israel. When Pilot presents Christ as King, the image of Christ begins to match his identity and lead us deeper into the wonderful truth of the Incarnation.

When we finally allow this Gospel to challenge our identity, we can’t get away with comfortable images given to us by artists down through the ages. One look at the characters of this Gospel ought to shake us enough to reflect on our own identity as would-be citizens of the Kingdom of God.  If we truly are, then we must no longer simply identify as “American”, “Italian”, “Hispanic”, “Democrat”, “Republican”, or “Independent.” By our Baptism, we have been claimed by and for Christ, and our only and true home is in the Reign of Christ. That home surpasses all boundaries, ethnicities, politics, and time itself. When we allow our allegiance or loyalty to anything that over-rides our loyalty and allegiance to Christ, we’re done for.

This weekend’s celebration reminds us of two things. The Kingdom of God is not something yet to come. We live it now by our identity with the thorn crowned king when we care for the poor, the hungry, and those on the margins of our society. We are also reminded to prepare to face God’s judgment. Reviewing how we have observed the “thou shalt not” commandments will get us nowhere. How closely we have kept the rules will probably not figure into the final exam. The ones Jesus, the King, will choose will be those who are most like him and have remained in solidarity with the one who eats with sinners, tax collectors, and those society has refused to accept.

One contemporary artist has given us an icon of Jesus more inspired by this Gospel than any other, and much truer to the real identity of Jesus. Called, “Christ of the Breadlines”. It is a black and white etching of a slightly stooped, racially indistinct Christ. The only thing that sets him apart from the women and men with whom he waits in that food line is how his presence radiates out to them. Thinking of Christ as the utmost expression of magnificent things that matter is risky when he has taught us to seek God’s self-revelation at the lowest end of power and prestige. Jesus did not come to scare us into charity, but to help us to fall in love with and widen our outstretched arms to embrace him by embracing everyone with mercy and compassion while setting us on fire and stirring our hunger for justice which will finally make him the King of Peace who came not to be served, but to serve.

November 15, 2020

At St. Peter the Apostle & St. William Church in Naples, FL

Proverbs 31,10-13, 19-20, 30-31 + Psalm 128 + 1 Thessalonians 5, 1-6 Matthew 25, 14-30

It’s easy to slide along with this parable and turn it into a simple lesson on the importance of using one’s gifts. At the same time, placed here at the end of the Church’s liturgical year, it becomes one more warning that Christ will come again, and there will be a time for accounting. The last two weekends have given us plenty of time to let that sink in. So, I’m not so sure that we ought to let these verses go with just a reflection on our stewardship or some thoughts about the last days. There is way more here than that. The crowds have gone, and this is a private conversation with the disciples on the Mount of Olives. As Matthew writes these verses, Jesus has gone on a journey to the Father, but he told them he would come back again. He told them it would be a long time, but just how long is something we still wonder about 2000 years later.

Notice in the parable that the Master does not tell any of them what to do. He just entrusts them with what is his. No instructions. Each one gets something according to their ability. There is no hint that the servants are in competition. This master has taken a risk, and I think that this is the key to what this parable means for us. It’s not so much about investing or planning as it is about risk taking. When we step back and compare the three of them, two are like the master, they take risks. The third who ends up being thrown out wants to play it safe. He is unimaginative and afraid, so he hides the master’s gift never taking a risk like the master does, and that’s a bad plan.

As with almost all parables, they reveal something about God, usually something that we might imitate since we are all made in God’s image. What Jesus reveals about the Father today is that the Father has taken a great risk in sending his only Son for our Salvation. It isn’t by chance that Matthew has this scene set on the Mount of Olives where the sacrifice of Salvation will take place. We ought to make that connection here. What God expects of us is that we more and more become like God, and this in this example, take some risks. The mistake of that one-talent slave who is afraid and does nothing cannot be our mistake. There is a lesson here about the expectations God has for us.

Non-involvement passivity, fear of making a mistake, a paralysis of anxiety results in only one thing, being thrown out. Discipleship, says Jesus to us today, is not a comfortable holding onto the gifts entrusted to us. We have to do something with them. We have to increase the yield of good works shared with others. We have to take risks with our faith. We have to risk forgiving when we’ve been hurt, and risk being hurt again. We have to take the risk of loving when we know we might be betrayed. We have to take the risk of sharing someone’s sadness and sorrow, grief or helplessness. It’s all about risk, because God is the ultimate risk-taker. God has taken a risk on us, and before Advent begins once again, we might begin to look at what return God will get from risking the mission of his son on us.

November 8, 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle and St. William in Naples, FL

Wisdom 6, 12-16 + Psalm 63 + 1 Thessalonians 4, 13-18 + Matthew 25, 1-13

This is not a parable about generosity. It is a parable about wisdom, and the Word of God speaks to us today about Wisdom. This Wisdom that is so essential for those who expect to enter into the Wedding Feast of the God’s Kingdom is not the same as knowledge. I know a lot of smart people who are very well educated, and you probably do as well, but they have no wisdom. They may know a lot of things, be very secure financially, and comfortable with their life style, but the peace and purpose in life does not come from books. It cannot be studied or be bought. That’s what some of these virgins discovered. You can’t buy wisdom, which is what an oil lamp signifies.

Wisdom is the highest virtue. Through it, God communicates to us the meaning of life, and the grandeur of our destiny which is to be with God. That is a greater good than life its self. Unlike knowledge, which is acquired through hard work, wisdom is a gift of God and is found by those who desire and seek it.

This parable is not about some of these virgins forgetting to bring enough oil. That’s not what made them foolish. They thought that this was just going to be party, an evening of some fun, laughter and one more time to kick back and celebrate. For the wise, it is not so. They have realized that this is a once in a lifetime never to be repeated chance to meet the Bridegroom, and in that attitude, there is wisdom. The wise live in this life alert, awake, always realizing that time passes never to return. The wise live alert to every opportunity to greet and welcome the Bridegroom, Jesus Christ.

This virtue, Wisdom, does not come to us in a day. It comes to people willing to wait, people who are not quick to react, but wide open to all of life seeking life’s meaning and purpose. Wisdom comes to those who take time to reflect upon their lives, and ponder God’s will in good times and in bad. I really believe that the gift of wisdom does not come to those who are in charge, powerful, and have all the answers to life’s questions.

On the 19^th of April in 1995, I found myself face to face with an immense violent tragedy. A policeman had taken me to a spot just across the street from the smoking ruins of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. I found myself completely at a loss and helpless. Everyone around me was asking: “Why? Why did this happen to us?” For hours I was asking the same question in my heart. “What did we do to deserve this?” A very distraught young man charged up to me, and through clenched teach snarled at me and said: “Where is your God, priest?” I went home that night with the same question roaring in my head and heart. But the next day, when I was back down under that mess off twisted rebar and broken concrete, I saw my God crawling around, in and out of tiny cracks where the floors had pancaked down on top of each other. That first question, “Why” made no sense at that point. Wisdom spoke and I began to wonder, “What are we going to become because of this? As sick and violent as the one who caused this, or compassionate, brave, and patient?”

That’s how Wisdom works; slowly and patiently for those who wait with no need to take matters into their own hands. Wisdom teaches us that it is the hand of God that guides, inspires, encourages, and lifts up those who are bowed down. Wisdom knows this from experience, reflection, and prayer. Real wisdom will always move us toward the highest good, God himself. It is Wisdom that has brought us today into this holy place. It is Wisdom that will keep us all ready, yet not the least bit anxious or concerned, because the wise are always seeking the one who waits for us.

November 1, 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Revelations 7,2-4, 9-14 + Psalm 24 + 1 John 3, 1-3 + Matthew 5, 1-12

Those of us Baptized as infants in the Catholic Church, and especially those of us who had the privilege of experiencing Catholic Education in our early and formative years have shared a common experience, at least I would like to think so. I don’t want to think that I am the only one here who grew up dazzled and awe struck by the stories and images of the saints. We had statues and picture, prints, and holy cards always in front of us stirring our imaginations, our hopes and dreams all motivating our failed attempts to become Saints. And so, here we are.  Some of us have given up the effort and just decided to be who we are, while I suspect that some have decided to embrace martyrdom at the hands of loved one who is determined to make us saints.

I am not too sure when it happened to me, but sometime ago, I think back in the seminary, I gave it up, and just decided that becoming a saint was not about something you did, but about something you are. With that, I abandoned all those youthful ideas that if I just suffered enough without complaining, offered up enough penance, said enough rosaries, went to Mass more than once a week, went to confession really often, I would have it made. It was as though I thought of it like a contest, like some prize I could win if I just did enough. The problem for me was that I never knew how much was enough.

This all came home to me visually many years ago when I had the opportunity to visit the Cathedral of the Angels in Los Angeles. If you have never been there, take a trip via the internet and explore the tapestries that line the upper walls of that fascinating holy place. When you stand in the midst of them, you find yourself surrounded and caught up in the wonderful procession headed toward the altar. I never counted them, but I’ve read that there are 25 of those tapestries with images of 135 wonderfully diverse saints. Some of them in the upper sections are recognizable by their images, clothes, and other symbols, but in line with them there are images of a diverse and very different people. Right away you get the point that joining that procession is possible for anyone from young people holding a ball bat or a doll, to a teacher or a doctor, a lawyer, a fireman, a letter carrier, a woman with a baby in her arms, or a man with a hammer and saw. They are black skinned, brown, yellow, white, and if these days in November remind us of anything, they are also blue and red whether you like the idea or not.

We are a church first, not a race, culture, or a nation. We are a church celebrating today and hopefully honoring our parents, our grandparents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, teachers who put up with us, and people who have cleaned up after us. These are real people who are not included on the calendar of Saint’s days. This is not like the Oscars for technical achievement or a perfect performance. This is a day for sinners, because that’s what all the Saints have been. It is a day for us who should hold out every hope that by God’s grace we shall enjoy the fulness of divine life.

What we recognize today is that all these people we remember with such great affection have built the church, that they are the church, in a way we, as yet, are not. Their lives have closed; their contribution is complete. The church we have is their work. It would not have come to us without their example, witness, sacrifices, sorrows, sufferings, and prayers. The honor we may bestow upon the saints is nothing in comparison with what they have given to us. We all have our favorites among them. Today for the Knights of Columbus it is Father McGivney, who founded the Knights of Columbus. For young people it ought to be Fifteen-year-old Carlo Acutis who died of Leukemia in 2006. The teenager used his taste for technology to create a website that traced the history of Eucharistic miracles, which has been used by more than 10,000 parishes worldwide, says the Vatican. For me, it’s Stan Rother that Oklahoma country boy who became a priest shortly before me. He is the first American born martyr murdered in Guatemala. We all ought to have our heroes and models through which we can see Jesus Christ. You see, it’s not really about them, and they would be the first to say so. It is about who we see when we see them, who we know when we know them, who we become when we live as they lived.

We are a communion of saints because we were born into a communion of saints. Salvation comes to us as the free gift of God because they faithfully shared that very gift with us. Without the saints, Christ would be a small footnote of history. In the lives of the saints, he is their champion, who leads his great host through the centuries, claiming each age for the kingdom. I stand here today and look out at your faces, and I see saints in every one of you. It’s not a matter of how guilty you feel, how unworthy, or how sinful. We are all saints because we are the elect of God, chosen and set apart, because there have been saints before us. If we live our lives as saints, giving others a chance to see Christ Jesus, there will be more saints to come. Today we simply try to see how past, present and future are a seamless procession into the kingdom of heaven.

Ordinary Time 29 – October 18, 2020

There will be no audio for this homily. It was not delivered in 2020.

I am serving a Maronite Community away from Naples.

Isaiah 45, 1, 4-6 + Psalm 96 + 1 Thessalonians 1, 1-5 + Matthew 22, 15-21

This episode continues the conflict of Jesus with the leaders of the people who are always hanging around, it would seem, trying to trap him in some act or opinion that would set him up for condemnation. We are still in the Temple precincts.  It’s a busy place. There are a lot of people around. Those money changers Jesus had disrupted were quickly back in business because they had to be there for the Temple to function. It was forbidden to use Roman coins for the offerings needed for the rituals. They had to change the money into a coin without that image of Caesar. There was in that issue, two conflicts: Israel’s law allowed no images, and Caesar claimed to be divine. Those within hearing distance and the Jewish/Christian community for whom Matthew writes must have smiled or maybe even laughed over the way Jesus traps the trappers. Jesus has no coin. When one of them pulls out the forbidden coin, without a word spoken, Jesus has them cornered.

We have to hear this instruction very clearly in terms of that second issue. Rendering to Caesar is a partial fulfillment of a much more basic duty which is rendering to God what is God’s. In other words, the two are not equal. The two renderings are not separate but equal, or two halves of a responsibility. Jesus recognizes that everyone must have a certain concern for the political and social well-being of one’s country, but that well-being is just one part of a responsibility for what is God’s. That loyalty or concern for Caesar or one’s country is rooted in the greater and more important concern and fidelity to God because everything is God’s. There is no intention on the part of Jesus to make them equal.

This is no early explanation of our contemporary separation of Church and State. There is no intention on the part of Jesus to compartmentalize our lives and think that the two are separate and equal. They are not. The wisdom or revelation here is that while there is a legitimate function of human authority it is always in relation to God’s authority. We are citizens of two countries, so to speak: a kingdom of this earth, and the kingdom of heaven. We need to be clear about that, and the more important and lasting one of them holds the higher authority. The challenge here demands that we engage in the difficult and complex discernment of how to live in history and society aware of our greater commitment to the reign of God.

This confrontation over the coin is not a solution to the controversy of church verses state. This is not some easy way out of what may well be the purpose and meaning of life. The struggle with our consciences and the values we have deep in our hearts is exactly what this life is all about, and entering into that struggle is what ultimately determines what life will be like here and in eternity. In this age of rapidly growing secularization, what emerges is the urgent need for all of us to act out of our deepest convictions and values rooted in the Gospel as it reveals the will of God. We have to ask over and over again, “Is this the will of God? Does God want God’s children separated by skin color? Does God want a privileged few to maintain that privilege at the disadvantage or many? Does God want or will the taking of any human life? Does God want anyone to be hungry?” That question can never stop being asked.

Today, Jesus Christ appeals to us all to look beyond the simplistic politics and black and white legalisms that are represented by Caesar’s coin and realize that we are called to embrace the values centered in a faith that sees the hand of God in all things and recognize every human life as part of the one human family under the reign and providence of God. We really don’t live in two separate worlds. How we live in the world of Caesar may very well determine how and if we shall live in the world of God. Perhaps, our purpose and task in this life is to bring into fulfillment the Kingdom of God.

October 11, 2020

There will be no audio for this homily. It was not delivered.

This weekend I am serving a Maronite Community away from Naples.

Isaiah 25, 6-10 + Psalm 23 + Philippians 4, 12-14 ,19-20 + Matthew 22,1-14

Matthew still have us in the Temple area, and the audience is still the Chief Priests and Elders of the people. In case you did not notice, we have been there now for three weeks. It is not a parable this time. It is an allegory, a story that speaks of one thing but means another. There is a strong message here with this garment issue that just showing up is not enough, and we should not miss the detail that it is the King who makes the judgement about how is dressed right and who is not. Clothing in the scriptures is often a metaphor for good works and faithful discipleship. In the Epistle to the Romans, St Paul speaks about those who have “put on Christ” and have “clothed themselves in Christ.”

When Christ speaks to us today, we are either the invited guests or the servants sent out with the invitation to others. Perhaps we are both. It is not just the evangelists and the prophets of old who announce the invitation, it is a prophetic people, an apostolic church, and a mission of evangelization that is given to us. Being laughed at or ridiculed because we accept the mission might just be expected. We will be in good company as the prophets were mocked and some killed because they fulfilled their mission. Yet, we are reminded again that just showing up is not enough for the King who hosts this banquet. Slipping in for Mass at the last minute and grabbing communion on the way out is not enough. At the feast of the Eucharist, we don’t just show up, not caring much about the guests around us, not being concerned about whether or not we are clothed with compassion and kindness, with no interest in offering ourselves to others.

Despite the warning at the end of these verses today, there is a word of encouragement to us from Jesus Christ. There is room for everyone at the banquet in heaven, and the King wants no one to be left out. Every one of us has been invited to that banquet feast. Excuses are not acceptable. Ignoring the invitation because of ambition, greed, or a self-satisfied life here is risky business. Someone else may take our place. It might be easy to get in to the banquet, but it’s not easy to stay, and today Jesus speaks to us who are already in about the Father, who like the king in these verses will be checking to see how we are clothed.

October 4, 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Isaiah 5, 1-7 + Psalm 80 + Philippians 4, 6-9 + Matthew 21, 33-43

We all just stood up to hear Jesus Christ speak to us directly from this Gospel. To sit down now and to think that we have heard Jesus of Nazareth attacking the chief priests and leaders of the people is to completely miss the point and somehow dis-engage the Gospel from real life. It is not about them. It is about us. They are entrusted with the care of God’s creation and God’s children. They blew it, and in a clever trap with this dialogue, Jesus gets them to condemn themselves.

History and Literature are full of stories about tenants and landlords. Almost always, the landlord is the bad guy and the tenants are victims of greed and abuse. This parable is different, because the landlord is the good guy and the tenants are the bad guys. It ought to leave us a little troubled and perhaps disturb our consciences which we so often like to keep quiet. This is a stark reminder that we are expected to bear fruit, that the owner, God, will come to collect, and if there is no fruit to return, it will not go well for us.

I am not a firm believer in coincidences, because I believe in a provident God.  Yet, it is wonderful and helpful today to hear Jesus speak to us this way on the Feast of St Francis of Assisi, and during the time of leadership by a Pope named, Francis who has spoken to us time and time again about our responsibility for this earth, God’s vineyard. How we care for it matters, because it’s not ours. The earliest story in our scriptures reveals God’s intention by putting us here with clear instructions. We ought to learn a lesson from this Gospel about how it goes with those who begin to think that just because they are here it belongs to them and they can do what they want with it.

We are warned today by the truth of this Gospel that this earth is not ours, and that the one to whom it belongs expects us to bear fruit and return it to return to him. To whatever extent we may have become possessive and ambitious, we run the risk of becoming self-condemned tenants of God’s vineyard. We are not placed here to build huge estates for ourselves or amass great portfolios and fat bank accounts. God is not interested in any of that. In fact, as Pope Francis has warned, this quickly slips into idolatry. What God longs for then and still today is social justice and integrity, and things that bring peace. When the master comes and finds us well fed, fat, and comfortable while 2/3^rd of his children are hungry, it isn’t going to go well. When more than half of what gets produced on American farms goes to waste and spoils on grocery store shelves, we won’t have much to show the master.  When the master comes and finds people refusing to speak to one another, a life-time of broken promises, violence, abuse, and the hording of this vineyard’s goods, we cannot pretend that the master will be pleased.

The truth is that sitting here on a Saturday afternoon in October there isn’t much we can do about it, but when we leave here, we could get at least get interested, study, and think about how what we might change, improve, and empower the right people to make some reforms, to minimize this damage we are constantly doing to God’s creation. The chief priests and elders of the people eventually solved their problem by taking the master’s son out of town and killing him just as their ancestors silenced the prophets who interrupted their comfortable lives and troubled their consciences. Leaving this Gospel message in the church, and deciding that religious values have no place in our secular lives the rest of the week does the same thing. When the prophetic Francis, Pope of Rome is written off or ignored because we think he should be taking care of pious or religious matters, the same disastrous consequences are likely to follow. The good news here is that we know how it works with God, and that this vineyard owner is yet to come. But, he will.

September 27, 2020

St. Peter the Apostle & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Ezekiel 18, 25-28 + Psalm 25 + Philippians 2, 1-11 + Matthew 21, 28-32

                                  Jesus has just entered Jerusalem with great excitement, and with no other authority than the Truth, he cleared out the Temple which, I’ve always thought was a symbolic way of demanding that we clear out our lives tangled up in commercialism, competition and consumerism forgetting that we are a Temple, the dwelling place of God. Those chief priests and elders realize now that they have no way of dealing with this troublesome Rabbi, and with that, Jesus tells this story of the two sons in the presence of those chief priests and elders to trouble their consciences. He speaks today, in this place, to trouble us and our conscience.

There is something about this parable that ought to make all of us squirm a little, because we can recognize ourselves in both of these “sons.” We have all promised to do things big and small with the best of intentions, and then, we just don’t follow through. At the same time, we’ve all said “no” to many requests, and later had second thoughts or regrets changing our minds. There is no way to think that this parable is about “them”. Jesus is speaking here, live and in person with this living Gospel.

There is something yet troubling with this parable especially so in a culture in which honor and shame are so significant. Saying “no” to a parent would have been a great insult and very disobedient causing great shame. While the second son gets an honorable approval rating by saying “yes” thereby preserving honor and avoiding shame, but look at what happens. Which is better, a son that does nothing but look good, or a son who looks bad and does good? When Jesus puts this question back on the chief priests and elders who are all about looking good, he sets the hook like a fisherman, and he drags them into the light of truth.

But, the parable today is not about them. It’s about us, and it’s about repentance which is what John the Baptist called for and what Jesus still expects. We are all a people who like to look good, a people who have made a lot of promises, because promises are a lot easier than action. What Jesus seems to prefer are people of shame, like tax gathers and sinners. He prefers them because even though they say “no” often doing wrong in their shame, there is evidence by their response to him that conversion and repentance are happening. There is good news here for us if we let this Gospel trouble our conscience enough to bring us to action. Notice that when Jesus describes that procession into the Kingdom, he does not exclude those chief priests and elders. The door will always be left open for anyone who repents. The Kingdom is to be inclusive. The hope remains then, that all of us who are so imperfect, both a “yes and a no” community we are a people for whom not only one but many changes of heart and conversion to the Father’s will are possibly and necessary.

What ultimately counts, my friends, are not the promises we make, but the actions we take. God is Good!