August 16, 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle in Naples, FL

Isaiah 56,1, 6-7 + Psalm 67 + Roman 11, 13-1, 29-325 + Matthew 15 21-28

Matthew writes to a church that consists primarily of Hebrew converts. As a way of addressing a problem, he tells them this story. The root of the problem is that they have all grown up formed in their Hebrew faith to believe that they were special, chosen and favored by God. They were God’s “Holy People”. Probably making matters worse, Jesus, who had inspired their conversion and was the center of their community life, was also a Jew. Their status, their identity is being challenged all around as Pagans, Roman, Gentiles, Samaritans, and Canaanites were responding in faith to God’s call.  Suddenly their special place, their very identity is being called into question. As always happens when one’s identity is challenged, they withdraw, become defensive, act offended, becoming rude, selfish, oppressive, and sometimes violent.

Matthew sees this happening, and in this story, he holds up the apostles as an example of this haughty and privileged attitude. Then he puts Jesus out there as an example of how this problem is to be resolved. Jesus changes his mind. When confronted with the reality of that woman’s need and the gift or power he has, everything changes. Matthew tells us that she did him homage. That is a detail that would have amazed everyone. This audacious woman with two strikes against her: her gender and the fact that her people, the Canaanites, were traditional enemies of the Jews, risks the scorn of her neighbors and friends by coming to Jesus of Nazareth. She breached her gender role by approaching a man for help. Then she defused the ethnic antagonism by calling on him as “Son of David”, thereby showing respect for him and calling on the Jewish tradition that makes kings responsible for the welfare of widows, orphans and foreigners. She calls him, “Lord.”  With that, something breaks open. Jesus, the very image of the church remembers who he is, and what the Father expects of him. The prayer of this woman came from her heart speaking to heart of Jesus. Out of mercy and compassion, Jesus shares what he has with someone he may have first thought didn’t deserve it, had not earned it, and so, had no right to it.

This is not so much a story about the power of prayer or persistence as much as it is a story told to the privileged who have forgotten why they have been so gifted. The Living Word of God still speaks to the privileged of every age; to people like us who sit in this comfortable air-conditioned church or in comfortable air-conditioned homes enjoying all that the internet and computers can offer. People like that woman who have nowhere else to go come to us, to this country, and to this church asking for help. There are still some like the apostles in this story who insist that they should be sent away because they bother us. Yet, Jesus is among us still the teacher who reminds us who we are, why we are here, and how to respond. The privileged can learn something today not only about how they must live as worthy recipients of God’s gifts, but also about the power of humility to soften hardened hearts.

August 9, 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle in Naples, FL

Kings 19, 9-13 + Psalm 85 + Roman 9, 1-5 + Matthew 14, 22-33

There is a lot more going on here than just a Gospel story about a storm on the lake and Peter jumping overboard. It is basically a story that confronts a serious mistake we often make when there are trials and stormy times in life. It is a mistake that has been hanging around for a long time, and it shows itself all too often in the face of natural disasters and personal tragedies. The mistake is a game too often played by people of shallow or little faith probably best called: “The Blame Game.” It is a bad way of explaining the reality of disasters and tragedies by suggesting that God is behind it all and does these things to test our faith. When in fact, most disasters or tragedies are simply the consequence of a natural phenomenon or the result of human sin. The truth is that God does not test our faith. That whole idea is almost cruel. The idea of a God who would take pleasure in scaring us or in pain is abominable. This Gospel invites us to think a little differently. It invites us to think more deeply about the trials and tests that inevitably arise in life.

What we can discover here is that God does not test our faith. Troubles, trials, tests are just a part of living. Politics, riots, disease are everywhere, and they are enough to scare anybody. Yet, these things help us to discover what we believe about God and about ourselves. Peter and his friends came to realize in the midst of their fright that they were not alone. They learned that day that God listens to our pleas, and just like last week’s Gospel, if we do what God asks even if it seems impossible like feeding five thousand people or walking on water, amazing things can happen.

Those disciples wanted an end to the storm, but rather than calm the storm, Jesus invited them to just walk over trouble waters. When one of them does what he asks, Jesus gets in the boat with them. It doesn’t say that he did anything or rebuked the wind. It just says they got in the boat and things calmed down. Rather than meet our expectations, God seems to offer to save us in ways we might think impossible.

If you can listen over the noise of this world and the storms of this life, you might hear God’s call: “Come.” It takes a little more than faith to get out of the boat. A great Jesuit mystic is quoted as saying, “What paralyzes life is lack of faith and lack of audacity.” What Peter and his companions learned that day is that faith itself is an audacious way to live, and all of us would probably do well, to learn that lesson from Matthew’s Gospel today. Half measures will not do. If you are going to get out of the boat, if you are going to “Come” when God calls, it takes more than faith. It takes what we might commonly say is “guts”. Faith without some plain old audacious courage isn’t enough, but put the two together, and you can walk over anything this old can throw at you.

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

Isaiah 55, 1-3 + Psalm 145 + Roman 8, 35, 37-39 + Matthew 14, 13-21

Anyone who is tuned in to Biblical Literature would know before this story ends what is going to happen. What is being counted does not matter. The number is the clue. Five and Two equals Seven, that number in the bible means perfection or fulfillment. It signals completion. Whether it is seven days in creation, or forgiving seventy times seven, the message is clear. There is enough. So, when the disciples tell Jesus what they have: five loaves and two fish, Jesus knows that they have enough. After a prayer, he tells them to give away what they have because Jesus knows that it is enough.

This is the most repeated story in all the Gospels. It is retold twice in Matthew, twice in Mark, once in Luke, and once in John’s Gospel. It was and still is important to the church, but not once does it say in all those versions that Jesus multiplied the bread. What it does say is that he took, blessed, broke, and gave to the disciples. It was the disciples who shared with the crowd. Then, they all ate and were satisfied. Take, Bless, Break, Share. What is important here is those verbs. What Matthew reveals to us is what happens when we do what Jesus asks. He said: Give me what you have, and they did what he asked. After he prayed what was probably a prayer of thanksgiving for what they had, he returned the gifts to the disciples and told them to feed the people.

This is then a story of what happens when disciples do what Jesus does and what Jesus asks. The disciples saw a need, but they expected the people to go away and fend for themselves, while they had something to eat. Like many in this world today, they probably thought, “We took care of ourselves. They should do the same.” There is a lot of that thinking around these days. Nonetheless, the loving generosity of God always being revealed in Jesus will not allow those people to be hungry. The miracle here is not about loaves and fish or some divine action taken by Jesus to suddenly produce more food. This is a miracle of generosity. It is the kind of generosity that is more than giving away the extra change in our pocket or something that we won’t miss because we already have several. It is the kind of generosity that springs from knowing and believing that everything we have comes from God. Everything.  All of this is framed for us in the context of the Holy Eucharist. Take, Bless, Break, Share are words describing the action of Jesus at the Last Supper carried over into every celebration of the Eucharist. This is the story of what happens when disciples do what Jesus asks and what Jesus does, and he asked us to more than celebrate Mass.

What Matthew reveals for us in Jesus Christ is the very image of a God of endless generosity. This is a God who gave his only son, not an extra one or a spare. This is a God who not only fed, but made certain that each one got as much as they wanted, and even so there were left overs. This is why I call this a miracle of generosity, because generosity is not always about giving things. More often it is about giving one’s self which is exactly what happens at this altar. Christ Jesus gives us himself. Yet, nothing could have happened that day in the wilderness had it not been for what the disciples had and were willing to give. A hungry world still waits to be fed, and we to whom enough has been given, must bring it back to God and then bless, brake, and share. What we hear today is the same command and the same words that those disciples heard: “Give them some food yourselves.”  They looked at that crowd and no doubt felt overwhelmed by so many in the face of so little, but they did what he asked and ended with more than they could have imaged; and everyone not only had enough, they were more than satisfied.

July 26, 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle and St William Parishes in Naples, FL

1 Kings 3, 5, 7-12 + Psalm 119 + Roman 8, 28-30 + Matthew 13, 44-52

We have been treated to a whole string of parables in the last several weeks. They call us back to the basics with images of soil, seeds, yeast, weeds, and finally there comes these final images about treasures, pearls, and a net. All of these should have excited our imaginations about the Kingdom of Heaven. The images are simple, and so is the Kingdom of Heaven. It simply means knowing that we are children of God with a divine dignity and an eternal destiny. The Kingdom of Heaven opens for us when we discover the meaning of life and how to live it. Today’s parables touch on these very points: life’s meaning and how to live it.

Disciples of Jesus Christ are a people willing to sacrifice anything at all to live with the nobility and the dignity that comes with being God’s children. If that is you and me, then there is nothing created that can satisfy our search and our longing other than the creator himself. We can never be satisfied with something that makes us happy, because happiness comes and goes. When we have discovered who we are and why, we have discovered the greatest of treasures the gift of God himself in Jesus Christ. That discovery is the meaning of life, and it brings Joy which is very different from happiness.

It takes an external stimulus to trigger happiness. It’s all about things or other people, places or events. Joy however, comes when you are at peace with who you are, why you are and how you are. The extraordinary thing about Joy is that it can exist whether you are happy or not. When we get the two confused, we end up trying to force the feeling of happiness into the place intended for joy. It never works. Happy cannot replace Joy, and Joy is what we all long for. I once read that happiness is an inch deep and a mile wide. Joy is a mile deep and an inch wide. Happiness has a self-centered piece in it. Not so with Joy. It comes from relationship and the exciting discovery that we are loved, and that the love we find has nothing to do with what we look like, feel like, or act like, for that matter. It has to do with knowing and believing with all our mind, our heart, and our soul that God loves us and will not turn his back upon us. Joyful is how we live it.

That is the discovery hinted at in these first two parables. The treasure and pearl are God’s love that draws us into the Kingdom of Heaven. The final parable that brings some closure to this whole series encourages us to sort through our lives, our values, maybe even our relationships and possessions to discover what really matters. What does not should be thrown away. Joy is what marks those who can sell everything for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven.

July 19, 2020

St. Peter the Apostle and St. William Parishes in Naples, FL

Wisdom 12, 13, 16-19 + Psalm 86 + Roman 8, 26-27 + Matthew 13, 24-43

We are still right where we left off last week. Jesus has come out of the house and gone down to the lake. We are on the shore of the lake. Jesus, on a boat is teaching. Last week he gave the “Parable of the Soil” that some people call the parable of the Sower, but it’s really more about us, the soil. Still thinking in terms of farming Jesus now comes up with these three parables today. The first is serious, the other two are silly. We get a little hint with them that Jesus could use humor to teach a lesson. Sowing mustard seeds is ridiculous! It’s a weed. What is that guy thinking, we ought to ask. Who sows crab grass or dandelions in their flower bed? The last parable is so exaggerated that Jesus must have had those people roaring with laughter. Every time I read it, I recall an “I Love Lucy” episode when she has gone to work at a bakery, and messed up the recipe. The oven door flies open, and dough starts oozing out. Three measures of flour is about 40 pounds in our system! Imagine what 40 pounds of flour would do with yeast in it.

All of these parables are about the Kingdom of Heaven. That’s how he started last week and today: “The Kingdom of Heaven is like….” So, these parables ought to awaken our imagination about the Kingdom of Heaven. That phrase (Kingdom of Heaven) is used 51 times in Matthew’s Gospel. If that doesn’t tell you to pay attention and think about it, nothing will. We have to be receptive to the Word of God we learned last week, like good soil. Once our minds, our hearts, our imaginations, our souls are open, we can begin, with the help of these parables, to imagine the Kingdom of Heaven.

If our imagination is inspired by these parables, we should get the point that the “Kingdom of Heaven” is not territorial or geographic; and while the other Gospels write about the “Kingdom of God” as some future event, Matthew’s “Kingdom of Heaven” begins with the Incarnation. It’s already begun. God is already with us in Jesus Christ. This “Kingdom of Heaven” embraces souls, not land possessions. God’s rule transcends the boundaries of time and space. The power and authority of God is not centered on domination, but in compassion and forgiveness. This is what Pilot could not grasp. This “King” Jesus was no threat to the Romans. He was not interested in land or power. This “King” Jesus was interested in souls, in love, and compassion.

So, the Kingdom these parables reveal is already here. It is now. We’re in it, and when you look around, you begin to get the point of this week’s parables. There are weeds here. It does not matter where they came from, but there are weeds. This world, this church, our lives are not perfect. What do we do about? Jesus says, don’t be upset or angry. You know, that was the problem that the Scribes and Pharisees had. They wanted everything perfect, and they thought they could make it so. They threw people out who were not perfect, and Jesus didn’t like that. He kept putting them back. In their eyes, even Jesus was imperfect. He kept on eating with sinners and tax collectors, touching lepers and the sick they had thrown out. He talked with respect and patience with people like that woman at the well. Everyone knew about her! My friends, we belong here, in this place, in the Kingdom of Heaven imperfect as we are. There is grace, there is a little time, there is a patient God revealed by Jesus who waits for us to listen to his Son and work hard at getting ourselves in shape, preparing for the harvest. It is then that the weeds and the wheat will be separated, not now. Perhaps most importantly of all, we need to realize that we are not the ones to do the separating. That’s not our job. We will have enough to do simply making sure that we are fruitful like the wheat.

July 12, 2020

At the Churches of St. Peter the Apostle and St. William in Naples, FL

Isaiah 55, 10-11 + Psalm 65 + Roman 8, 18-23 + Matthew 13, 1-23

All the parables are about God. Jesus uses them to reveal something about his Father. While that is true of this parable revealing a generous God, whose is not particularly fussy about how much and where “seeds” are sown, God is not really the focus in this parable. Comfortably sitting back gratefully over a God who is so generous isn’t going to help us or lead us anywhere. While it is sometimes called, “The parable of the Sower”, it really ought to be called, “The Parable of the soil.” What the farmer is doing is not remarkable at the time. First, they plowed the field, to loosen the top soil, and then the farmer would simply walk along a path and throw seed out along the way. There were no neat rows or machines to measure out just enough seed in just the right place to get a good cop.

As always with the Living Word of God, something new pops up every time we proclaim the Gospel. That’s just the way it is for people who continue to live and internalize the Word of God which is exactly what Isaiah is proclaiming in the first reading. So, for me, what I heard this week had not caught my attention before. There is a movement here. I hope you caught it. Jesus moves out of the house and sat down by the sea. He is no longer speaking “in the house” to the apostles. Now he speaks to crowds, and he concludes with a statement that makes clear the meaning and the purpose of this parable. Those who have ears, those who are open and listen to the Word of God are Blessed because they understand.

Jesus calls our attention to the privilege that is ours. We have been given the opportunity to see and hear (to understand) what those in the past and some still around us have longed to see and hear. In the second part of the parable, the word “Hear” is used five times, and when spoken in this parable it is not about an audio sensation, but about receptivity. This is what it takes. This is what God requires. This is what discipleship is about, Receptivity. We have to be open to the Word of God. We have to be loosened as was the dry top-soil in that arid climate. The rigid, the smug no-it-all who has made up their mind about everything is not receptive.

I believe what this “Parable of the Soil” asks of us today is to examine and reconsider our receptivity. We must ask and wonder how receptive we are to change, to growth, to conversion of heart. The receptive good soil allows faith to take root, and that faith to produce a harvest which Matthew calls: “The Kingdom of Heaven.” The work of the Holy Spirit in us makes a church that changes, a life that is full of wonder and curious about the unknown. A church and a people who are unafraid of something different or new, but able to see good in all things and all people because, God can’t make anything bad. We rejoice today in the promise that as long as we remain open and receptive to what the Gospel asks of us, we shall be among the Blessed.

At the 9:00am Mass in St William Church, this homily continues.

Among us today are several children whose parents are bringing them into the fullness of our faith. What we have to give these children today is not just Holy Communion in consecrated bread, but Communion among the Holy, a place among God’s people made holy by the sacrificed Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. My dear parents: on the day you brought these children to the Church and to Jesus Christ, you traced the sign of the cross on their forehead, and you promised that you would bring them up in the practice of the faith. You have done so in a beautiful and faithful way, and we recognize that today. For an old priest like me I see your great desire and love for your children, and I share your hope that the seed you have planted in their hearts will grow and bear fruit for countless generations. You have done what you can, and there is more yet for you to do, but the seed is planted, and now it will do only what the seed can do. In years to come, you may grow impatient and perhaps even feel guilty if the seed does not produce the way you wanted. There will come a time when you must simply wait to see what comes up. The waiting is hard, imagining what comes needs some openness and receptivity. Teach that to your children. Help them to remain open and hear the Word of God. The more they are open and receptive, the more they will be Blessed. Please step forward now with your children.

To the children: When you drive home today, I want you to ask your parents to tell you the story of the day you were Baptized. Have them tell you about your God-parents, about what you were wearing, who was there, maybe the name of the priest, and where it all happened. Have them tell you about the name they gave you that day. Then, I want you to ask them what they were feeling like and what they hoped for you that day and what they wanted to give you.  Whoever that priest was, he made the sign of the cross on your forehead. It’s like a mark that makes you different. It’s almost like a scar that shows something about you, something that happened. Then he asked your parents and godparents to do the same, and I want them to do it once more right now. We claim you today as children of God, and as members of this Church family, and I want everyone here to welcome you today into God’s holy family. Now be seated while we prepare and pray over the gift that God has for you, the Body and Blood of his only Son.

June 28, 2020 at St. Andrew Parish, Moore, OK

Kings 4, 8-11, 14-16 + Psalm 89 + Roman 6, 304, 8-11 + Matthew 10, 37-42

There is an old saying that always gets me riled up.  It goes like this: “That’s just the way things are.” It has a parallel saying that is just bad: “It’s always been that way.” Disciples of Jesus Christ are never content with the way things are, and they cannot stand still or keep quiet when someone tells them that “It’s always been that way” because that’s not the way of God’s creation. The whole point of the Incarnation, the reason why the Son of God left the Father was to make things different from the way they are now. The reason the Holy Spirit came to us was to re-create the face of the earth.

The church Matthew is writing to is living under social, economic, political, and religious pressure. Sounds like us doesn’t it? The narcissism, individualism, and secularism of our age makes a striking parallel to the times of Jesus. It makes his word all the more important and relevant today, because this Word of God is alive and speaks to us when we are gathered together. We may not sit here and think that these instructions are for a time and place in the past. To read this text and admire the trials, difficulties, and the faith of early Christians is nice, but it is not enough. To call this the Word of God is to be addressed by it now.

Jesus both charges and encourages us today. He tells us we can expect opposition because he met opposition, and the servant is no greater than the master. We’re not excused or exempt. Jesus was called Beelzebub, an Aramaic name for the devil. We can expect to be called names too like, “Tree hugger”, or “Socialist” when we care about this earth as our Holy Father keeps insisting, or care about the health and safety of others who may not be as well as we are. Sometimes verbal abuse is just as painful as physical abuse. We may not be flogged or crowned with thorns, but the social abuse and verbal abuse we may face is just as hard. Remember that old saying about sticks and stones?

In the end, what Jesus addresses here is what we could simply call, “priorities”, and there is a strong push here to critique our priorities in light of the values and priorities held by Jesus. Ours cannot be different. If they are, we don’t belong. In this text, there is no suggestion that families should be divided. You know, the result of an action is not always the purpose of the action. There is something called unintended consequences. When Jesus speaks of families being broken up, it’s not his fault, nor necessarily the fault of the one whose values and priorities cause the breakup. The purpose of God’s call to us is not to divide families. The purpose of these words is to encourage those who find this painful by insisting that this is no surprise to God. These are words of encouragement to those already suffering because of a family divided.

For Jews and Gentiles at the time this Gospel was prepared, strong family connections were an ultimate value. Whatever religion the head of a household held, all the family and the servants embraced the same. Maybe the critique here ought to be: “Who is the head of the family?” When the head of the family is God, I find it hard to imagine there could be any division. So, beyond the encouragement of those suffering, Jesus is re-ordering family priorities so that God and God’s will comes first. When it does, it is good. When it is good, it is exactly the way the Creator intended.

My friends, we are all called to put things in the right order and trust that God will care for our needs. While this text may seem harsh, Jesus is inviting us into the love of the Trinity in a deeper way. Finding life is the ultimate adventure of discipleship. In doing so, we can never accept the unacceptable or tolerable the intolerable. We live and show an alternative to “the way things have always been.” Our mission is to prove that the forces working against life are doomed. The more we believe and live with Gospel values and Gospel truth, the more it becomes a reality in and through us.

This is what our vocation is all about. It matters not whether we are priests, teachers, cooks, physicians, farmers or carpenters. The heart of the matter is whether or not we are willing and whether or not our commitment is equal to the task before us. It takes a kind of prophetic dedication that will allow others to know Christ’s love because they have met us. Jesus said exactly that when he said: “Whoever receives you, receives me.”

Keep in mind, that before these verses we hear today, Jesus was commissioning a community, not individuals. No one of us will ever be sufficiently worth or equal to take up the mission of Jesus. Husbands and wives share in each other’s vocation. Communities are called together to create the physical, psychic and spiritual spaces that heal the wounds and divisions of this world. That is exactly what Saint Andrew Parish is about, and every other community sharing in the Gospel truth must be as well. The broken must find a place here. Those who feel alone or isolated, or left out, must come here to be loved and healed not scolded or judged. As we who are followers of Jesus, our every love fits uniquely into our mission. Rather than limit our focus and care as Christians, our love for father mother, son, daughter, friend and lover can make us ever more-worthy and ever more-ready to love without limit. No one is outside the boundaries of God’s love and compassion. There are no limits, and it must be the same for us, or we fail to be what we are called to be, leaving this world the way it has always been, because that’s just the way it is.

God sent Jesus to say: “No, it isn’t.”

June 21, 2020 at St. Peter the Apostle in Naples, FL

Jeremiah 20, 10-13 + Psalm 69 + Roman 5, 12-15 + Matthew 10, 26-33

Now, well into summer, we are settling into Matthew’s Gospel which consists of five distinct sermons. Be calm, you’re not going to get them all today. You know the first one well, it is the Sermon on Beatitudes. Today we are into the Sermon on Mission. Later we will move into the Sermon on the Parables, then the Sermon on the Church, followed by the Sermon on the End Times.  And so, it is to us that Jesus speaks in this church today. He speaks about our Mission, and about the fear that can keep us from fulfilling that mission.

         We’ve all learned by now that fear can be both good and bad. When it is good, fear can keep us from doing foolish and dangerous things. When it is bad, it can keep us from doing good and doing the right thing. Fear can either turn us into wise and prudent people or it can make us cowards. Courage is what Jesus proposes as a necessary virtue for us, his disciples. This courage sets us free. The courageous are not without fear, they are simply not reckless. They know what to fear, and how to avoid it trusting their gifts, skills, and wisdom. As Jesus nurtures us today as his disciple/missionaries, he never suggests that taking up his mission in this world will be easy and without risk and danger, but there can be no silent disciple/missionaries. We are either known and recognized by what we say and what we do, or we count for nothing in God’s sight.

Having been called in faith and gifted with the gospel, there is no going back for us, and there is no hiding. There is no denying that the values of our faith are being eroded all around us. The evidence is there day and night. It is greater and more complex than abortion. It is a choice being made every day that choses privilege and convenience over life itself. It is a kind of moral decay that rewards the powerful and wealthy with more and more safeguards to their privileged position. It is the kind blindness that sees nothing wrong with demonizing people who are different from us fleeing from violence and poverty. In that blindness the face of Christ is never recognized. It is a kind of deafness that does not hear the cries of children snatched from the arms of parents who just want their children to be free and safe like us. It is not likely here and at this time in history that we will put our lives in danger. What we are likely to face is not so much hostility or opposition, but something which is even harder – a deadly indifference. To bear witness in this case requires a special kind of courage. It means overcoming our fear of what people think of us or call us, and the fear of what it will cost in in terms of letting go of our ego.

When Jesus says to us, “Do not be afraid,” he is not saying that we should never feel afraid. The issue is what fear will do to us, paralyze us, silence us, and make us unable to fulfill the mission he has entrusted to us. What he does is encourage us to trust in his Father who sees, cares for, and loves even the littlest and the least valuable of all creation. Faith, my friends, is not a comforting illusion that all is well. Rather, it means knowing that life is full of risk, full of insecurity, and yet rejoicing in it. That is the essence of faith. Nowadays, thanks to security cameras, we are often being watched, watched by a cold, dispassionate eye intent on catching us in the wrong. The feeling that someone is watching you is not a pleasant feeling. But the feeling that someone is watching over you is a really good feeling. God is not watching us. God is watching over us. That conviction offers us comfort, strength, and courage. Most of all it gives us hope in times of difficulty and danger, and only God can dissolve our deepest fears.

June 14, 2020

St. William Church and St. Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Deuteronomy 8, 2-3, 14-16 + Psalm 147 + 1 Corinthians 10, 16-17

John 6, 51-58

Every year, immediately after Pentecost, the church reflects upon our unique Christian experience of God revealed by Jesus Christ, as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We have come to call this revelation: The Holy Trinity. Then this weekend comes, and we are called deeper into the unique relationship expressed by the Trinity celebrating the Body and Blood of Christ. Weeks ago, I prepared a homily for this Sunday reflecting upon Body and Blood of Christ, and then this country erupted in a spasm of rebellious anger over a violent act, and way more besides. It has opened for us a deep wound that has never been healed but simply denied and ignored as a sense of privilege and exceptionalism has left too many of us comfortable and secure. We are no longer comfortable and secure even way down here in Naples, Florida.

The words I had put on paper about five weeks ago seem shallow and useless for the most part until our Bishop challenged the priests in the Diocese of Venice to let the Holy Spirit guide and open our hearts to the present unrest, fear, and anger. It is certainly not the first time this nation has experienced this upheaval. In fact, history reminds us all too well that this nation was founded by rebellious revolutionaries who rose up against oppression, burned, and looted. The event has taken on a softer look by the name history has given it: “The Boston Tea Party.” It wasn’t a “party”. In fact, it is impossible to imagine that the looting of those ships in Boston Harbor was done without injury to those who may have been on those ships. This kind of thing is simply deep in our history and our psyche. I’m old enough to remember Selma and the violence and deaths that forced us to look at a particular example of injustice and oppression that showed itself in schools, waiting rooms, and drinking fountains. I remember it all. Then and now I felt ashamed.

This is perhaps a good day to begin a conversation within ourselves about just how racist we are, and just how racism affects not just our lives here on earth, but the very heart of our faith, our belief, our relationships with one another, and our relationship with God. When we look at how slowly and quietly we have become polarized over the last twenty years, we can hardly deny that the way we look at, think about, and sometimes speak about those who look, think, or act differently from us has broken the beauty of the human family. Name calling, excluding, judging, and ridiculing are common practice these days from the highest office to conversations over coffee. It reveals a wound, a sad brokenness that longs to be healed, and this is the place where it must begin. It will not be resolved in a courtroom. We’ve seen that. Legislation never changes human hearts.

This feast of The Body and Blood of Christ is about communion, and that’s not a little consecrated wafer. Communion, in our faith tradition, does not refer solely to the act of eating the Eucharistic Bread. It refers to the reason, the purpose for which we consume it: to become one Body of Christ. The purpose for which Jesus Christ left us this sacrament with the instructions “Do this to remember me” is to make us one body, a communion of brothers and sisters. This Sacrament is our identity. The mere hint of racism in our midst reveals how far we have to go to accomplish what Jesus Christ began and commanded, and not one of us can say, in truth, that there is no racism in us. It’s deep, it’s lasting, it’s ugly, it’s tricky, and it’s hidden. I caught myself in a racist act this week. I was in Miami driving through a neighborhood in which I felt like an outsider because of my skin color, and I checked to make sure the doors were locked. Why did I do that? Was there danger? I doubt it. It was broad daylight, and there were other tourists mingling about. It was a trendy part of town. But fear of something different triggered a reaction that reveals something I need to think about, and this is exactly what we ought to do moments before we accept the gift of God offered to us for our salvation.

Since near the beginning of this year, we have had an opportunity to remember that we must not ever take God’s gifts for granted, the gift of our health, the gift of our life, and the gift of our faith resting upon this altar. If I have ever taken you for granted, I know better now. Standing at this altar looking out at empty pews, hearing no response when I say: “The Lord be with you” or “Amen” when the great prayer of thanksgiving concludes has been a sad but good lesson. Being a priest without people doesn’t make much sense to me. I hope it has been the same for you.

At the conclusion of the Eucharist liturgy in the Maronite Rite, the pries and people bid farewell to the altar, the symbol of Christ around which we gather, and they say these words: “I leave you in peace, O Altar, and I hope to return to you in peace. May the offering I have received from you be for the forgiveness my faults and remission of my sins, that I may stand without shame of fear before the throne of Christ. I do not know if I shall be able to return to you again to offer sacrifice. I leave you in peace.” People who celebrate the Maronite Liturgy never leave early. They all stay to say that prayer that acknowledges their faults, sins, and shame. They remind each other that they may not have another opportunity stand before this altar, so this time, they need to get it right. It should be so for us, we never know if we shall be able to return.

June 14, 2020 at St. William Church & St. Peter Church in Naples, FL

Deuteronomy 8, 2-3, 14-16 + Psalm 147 + 1 Corinthians 10, 16-17 +

John 6, 51-58

This annual feast we once called, “Corpus Christi” is an annual occasion to get back to basics. So, let’s go there for a moment. Ancient peoples believed, as we still do, that earth, air, fire and water are the fundamental elements of creation. With that in mind, we can begin to understand why Jesus chose bread as the element we should use to bind us together. It is, as we say in prayer, “Fruit of the earth and work of human hands.” It is, first of all, a gift of God to us. Bread in every culture and language is a metaphor for food. It is the most basic human sustenance. To lack bread means to lack food, to lack that on which we depend to live and without which we die for lack of nourishment. Wine however, is not a principal of sustenance. It is not necessary. We can live without it. But, wine is a symbol of gratuity. It is part of feasting and fulness of life. It is something of joy that calls to mind community, sharing, and social bonds. So, we take bread and wine to the altar together, never one without the other, because they are a symbol of human life all of which comes from God.

With that in mind, we must choose carefully the words we use to express what we do in here. We do not “Go” to Mass. We are called here by God. Mass does not begin with the opening song. The Eucharistic celebration begins when we accept God’s invitation to come and be here willing to be transformed by what God gives us. In a society where individualism triumphs, the Eucharist reminds us of the common destiny of all humanity. It awakens us to the injustice that leaves so many of God’s people with out bread. We are also a society in which waste prevails. I read a credible statistic that tells the truth: half of what we buy is thrown away. Look at the food piled on the plates in restaurants. Then think about the boxes people carry home and forget about until they get moldy and get thrown out. The Eucharist forges a bond of charity between us all, and it awakens us to injustice and disturbs us enough to give us a mission.

         What has happened to us since mid-February or early March has alerted us to more than physical challenges. There is a spiritual one as well. I cannot count the times when I have heard people say: “I miss receiving my Holy Communion.” I heard it so often that I was beginning to think that somehow, we have lost more than Holy Communion. Then, one day sitting in counsel with someone, they said; “I miss being at Mass.” With that statement, the challenge was focused for me. As church, we cannot be satisfied with having the Eucharist; we do not possess it. The Eucharist serves no purpose if it remains simply an object to be possessed or adored. We are called to become the Eucharistic body of the Lord; the truth and the proof of the Eucharistic body is the worshiping community. What we lost for most of this year was not having communion served, but being in communion, being together, being renewed, and strengthened as only friends and family can do for us. In the Second Eucharistic Prayer, the priest says these words: “Humbly we pray that, through the Body and Blood of Christ, we may be gathered into one by the Holy Spirit.” That is why we receive communion, that is why we have communion, and it is why Christ Jesus gave us the Eucharist; so that we might become one by the Holy Spirit.

         When I say we have to take care about how we express what we do and believe, we must be conscious about the expression “communion.” It does not refer solely to the act of eating the Eucharistic bread. It also refers to the reason, the purpose for which Christians eat it: to be church-communion, to become one body in Christ. This is why we do not have “open communion” or just say “Y’all come.” It is not just a moment of me and Jesus. It is not just a way of remembering the Last Supper. Taking communion in here means we accept God’s invitation to become church, and as church to be the Body of Christ for each other and the world.

         Communion is an actual communion, because through it we have communion with Christ and share in His flesh and His divinity; through it, we have communion and are united with one another. To receive communion is to be a communion. When we begin to understand that the purpose of the Eucharist is to make us one body, a communion of brothers and sisters in faith, we will no longer view our participation in the Sunday liturgical assembly as a matter of law or obligation. It will have become our way of expressing our identity. Being present, in the church is an essential part of calling ourselves Catholics. If you choose for no good reason to be absent, you’re not Catholic. It is the assembly, that provides our identity, and the Church is not Church until is gathers together. When a brother or sister cannot be here, we do not leave them alone, we take them holy communion from this altar table mindful that they belong, that we miss them, and we don’t want to lose them. This is why not being here because we don’t feel like it, because we’re tired, or because we have to shop or play a round of golf is to put ourselves outside and break communion. It is to decline the invitation of God and the gift of life God offers us in this place. It is simply a big, NO THANK YOU to God.

         What we have experienced for most of this year has been an opportunity to remember that we must not ever take God’s gifts for granted, the gift of our health, the gift of our life, and the gift of our faith resting upon the gifts of our common faith. If I had ever taken you for granted, I know better now. Standing at this altar looking out at empty pews, hearing no response when I say: “The Lord be with you” or “Amen” when the great prayer of thanksgiving concludes has been a sad but good lesson. Being a priest without people doesn’t make much sense to me. I hope it has been the same for you.

         At the conclusion of the Eucharistic liturgy in the Maronite Rite, the priest and people bid farewell to the altar, the symbol of Christ around which we gather, and they say these words, “I leave you in peace, O Holy Altar, and I hope to return to you in peace. May the offering I have received from you be for the forgiveness of my faults and the remission of my sins, that I may stand without shame or fear before the throne of Christ. I do not know if I shall be able to return to you again to offer sacrifice. I leave you in peace.” People who celebrate the Maronite Liturgy never leave early. They all stay to say that prayer. It should be so for us because, we never know if we shall be able to return.

God is Good.