Sunday, December 17, 2023

The Jubilee - Gaudete Sunday

 From 2020....


In ancient Jewish practice, there was something called the Year of Jubilee. The Year of Jubilee would take place every 49 years and during that year anyone who was in debt would be forgiven of that debt; slaves would be let free; if your family had lost its heritage, your homeland would be returned to you; and fields would be at rest. The reason for the number 49 is the connection to the seventh day of creation—that is, the Sabbath, the Day of Rest—multiplied by seven (7x7=49). In other words, this Jubilee Year is the Sabbath of Sabbaths; the Rest of Rest; the Peace of Peace; the Joy of Joys. 

It is the Jubilee Year that Isaiah proclaims this morning when he says: “The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me”—Isaiah then announces the Year of Jubilee: “he has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the LORD.” 

Over time, the practice of the Jubilee Year disappeared. It became a sort of sentimental relic of the past (“… ahh, the old days…”) or a impossible ideal only attainable by the trumpet blast announcing heaven and its Eternal Rest and Joy. 

Several centuries later, however, when Jesus begins His public ministry—that is, after the Spirit of the Lord comes upon Him when He is baptized by John; and after Jesus’ battle with the devil in the desert—Jesus goes to His hometown in Nazareth. There, at Nazareth, He enters the synagogue and begins to teach them by reading from a scroll. 

The passage that He reads—of all of the passages Jesus could have chosen—the one that He reads is this: 

The spirit of the Lord is upon me…. He has sent me to bring glad tidings… [and] to announce a year of favor from the LORD. 

Jesus was announcing the Year of Jubilee. But the people of Nazareth would have received those words simply with the sentimental, “remember those days?” sort of way. They don’t believe Jesus is actually announcing an actualYear of Jubilee. 

But then Jesus shocks them by saying, 

These words are fulfilled in your hearing. 

In other words, yes: Jesus is announcing the Jubilee Year—not a sentimental past, nor an idealized future heaven. But, now. Now is the Year of Jubilee. And not simply a paying of monetary debts, but the paying of more expensive debts (“the wages of sin”) by giving mercy and forgiveness; nor the release from iron chains, but from that worse slavery which is to the devil and to death. Jesus literally comes to bring freedom and rest and joy 

                        I came that you may have life and have it more abundantly. 

It is fitting that Jesus began the annunciation of the Jubilee Year in His hometown, Nazareth (“what good can come from Nazareth?”). And you would think that the people there would have been overjoyed. 

Instead, they grumble, saying: “Isn’t this the son of Joseph, the carpenter?” 

(Good job, Nazareth, keeping the stereotype alive!)

Jesus responds by telling them about the many times that God healed foreigners (like the leper, Naaman, the Syrian) but did not heal the children of Israel—for the children of Israel did not believe. In fact, they persecuted the prophets (“no prophet is accepted in his native place”). 

Jesus is telling his own people of Nazareth that not only are they just like all of the other towns of the past, and not only is He is in the line of prophets, but also that the true joy of the Jubilee Year will not be theirs (it will only be a sentimental relic or an impossible ideal) precisely because of their hardness of heart. 

John the Baptist had said, “Prepare the way of the Lord. Make straight his paths.” Why? Because the Lord, Jesus, was bringing the Jubilee Year. He was bringing great gifts of freedom and mercy and joy. This preparation required not only repentance, but it also meant “making straight” (from the word "ortho" to make straight-- from which we get the word orthodoxy (straight teaching))—and thus having an openness of heart where God could quicklyenter. Not by winding roads, but straight to the heart!

The people of Nazareth were slow. And unrepentant. They did not heed John. And, as a result, on hearing Jesus’ words—words of freedom and joy, mind you!—they violently lay hands on Jesus and bring Him to the brow of the hill to throw Him over the cliff. He escapes, but it will be the last time He is there. 

As a contrast to the people of Nazareth, the readings offer us a reflection on Mary’s heart. Mary is the one spoken of in the second half of Isaiah’s reading. There, it says: 

I rejoice heartily in the Lord, in my God is the joy of my soul; for he has clothed me with a robe of salvation and wrapped me in a mantle of justice… like a bride bedecked with her jewels. 

That’s Mary! But why does Mary rejoice heartily? Because she has received Jesus in her womb, yes. But we receive Jesus into our bodies in the Eucharist. So, perhaps there is more to it. 

A lot of it has to do with her disposition. Yes, she was prepared by God and so had no need of repentance—being without sin does open us to joy. But also, Mary was open to whatever God’s plan was. “Let it be done to me,” she said, “according to your will.” She wanted what God wanted. 

The joy comes, then, not only when she gives birth (thereis joy there, of course!), but the joy continues when she visits Elizabeth. Do you remember the story? It is called the Visitation. Mary visits Elizabeth. They are both pregnant. The Holy Spirit comes from Jesus and Mary and descends upon Elizabeth and upon John in her womb. And he dances. And Elizabeth rejoices. And Mary sees: she sees that freedom and joy have been brought by Jesus in her womb: the Jubilee really is here! 

Mary then, in that very moment when she sees, Mary exclaims the words we heard in the “psalm” today: 

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked up his lowly servant. … He has remembered his promise of mercy. 

Mary recognizes the Jubilee and rejoices in it. 

To be joyful, therefore, means a two-fold movement in our souls. First, we must be sorry for our sins and repent of them, as John says and as Mary is. And, second, we must be open to do whatever God wants. 

Here, I think of a woman to whom I was recently introduced. Her name is Claire Crockett. 

Claire was born in 1982 in Northern Ireland, so she’s a year younger than I am. She was an actress on Nickelodeon and was becoming pretty popular. She had an easy time getting boyfriends. And she loved to party and she loved to drink and to smoke. And she was a total jokester. Yet, for all of that, she would go back to her hotel and the end of the day’s filming and feel empty. 

On one particular Good Friday, a friend of hers invited her to the Good Friday service—which is where you have a chance to kiss the Cross. Claire saw everyone doing it and so she thought she might as well, too. When she did this, this simple act of being open—even half-open—to God, grace poured upon her soul like rain. She started wondering if this was what she was looking for. 

She talked with the priest and she went to confession and began to live by a simple premise in life: To do whatever God wants. 

She started changing. And some of her friends noticed. One of them said, making fun of her: “Claire, if you keep this up, you’ll become a nun!” 

Claire—with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other—took a puff from her cigarette and said, “Well, if that is what God wants, then I’ll become a nun.” 

They all laughed. But Claire was changing. And she put away the drunkenness and the cigarettes and she started praying and helping with the kids. And she became radiant and joyful. And yeah, she became a religious sister. And you can see clips of her on youtube—and you can tell: she found the difference between pleasure and joy. 

In repenting of her sins and being open to whatever God wanted, Claire Crockett had found the freedom and the mercy of Jesus. She had found the Jubilee. 

And that is what I proclaim to you today. Mercy is offered to you who are sorry. And freedom and joy are yours who are open to whatever God wants. And that’s what God will lead you to—for He desires to give you mercy and freedom and joy! He Himself is the Jubilee!

Saturday, December 9, 2023

The Immaculate Conception (2023)

 This is such a beautiful Solemnity, such a wonderful celebration!

But what is it that we celebrate today?

We hear it in Gabriel the Archangel's greeting to Mary. He doesn't say, "Hello, Mary." He says, "Hail." "Hail, full of grace."

We know these words well from the Hail Mary we say so often. But that word, "Hail"-- attend to it for a moment. ... It is the salutation for a King or a Queen. Already at this moment, even before Mary receives Jesus in her womb, Mary is a Queen.

And doubly odd is that Gabriel doesn't say, "Hail, Queen Mary." He says, "Hail, full of grace." The Archangel Gabriel says this because he is revealing what God has done in Mary's life. Not only has God made Mary a Queen, but the Father, in His beautiful plan, has also made her "full of grace."

Which means there is no sin in her at all. She is immaculate -- from the Latin im + macula -- meaning: without stain, without blemish or sin.

Mary is the Queen, full of grace, who Gabriel greets and to whom the plan of the Father's love is now revealed: She will "conceive and bear a Son and He shall be named Jesus."

Many may wonder why the Annunciation is read on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception. (Many after all, confuse the immaculate conception of Mary with the conception of Jesus at the Annunciation). The Annunciation is read today because it reveals what God has done in Mary's life, who she is, and what the Father is about to do. It is a triple annunciation. 

*

 When did Mary become the Queen full of grace? 

It began at her conception. 

She was conceived in the womb of Anne, her mom. Remember: Joachim and Anne are Mary's parents. And the immaculate conception is when Mary is conceived in Anne's womb -- at which moment, the heavenly Father, seeing and knowing all things, and knowing that His Son would offer Himself on the Cross for the salvation of the world -- the Father takes those graces from the Cross (which is present to Him because all times are present to Him) and He applies them to Mary. The word for this is "prevenient" grace. And it is a grace that prevents Mary from bearing the stain of original sin.

Mary is conceived immaculate, full of grace.

*

Some may feel a little envy about this: why does Mary get such a gift? 

Do not be too quick to envy.

After all, when you were baptized, reborn in those mystical waters of rebirth, was not original sin washed away from your soul? Yes, absolutely! At the moment of your baptism, you were as clean as clean could be! 

So, while you were not biologically conceived free of sin, you were sacramentally made so!

And if you have sullied your baptismal garment through sin, the Father in His plan of sheer goodness has given you yet another Sacrament, what the ancients called "Second Baptism" -- the Sacrament of Confession. 

Do you not know that, when you confess and are absolved of your sins, the Father restores your soul to its purity and innocence that you enjoyed at your baptism?

In fact, it must be this way. For, after all, in heaven, can there be any sin? Of course not! Can there be any stain or spot or wrinkle? No. In heaven, everything is immaculate. You must be made immaculate before you can get to heaven! And so, what a grace for these Sacraments.

*

Here, we see a two-fold gift -- an early Christmas gift! -- in this great celebration. 

First, we see how beautiful the Sacraments are and how generous is God's plan for our salvation. (He didn't have to do this! He could have left us all in the darkness and misery of sin and death! But has given us grace upon grace!) 

The Father prepares Mary to be the Temple in which His Son shall dwell. God dwells in holy places, after all. He dwells here in this holy parish church. And soon, He will dwell in your soul by means of the Eucharist. How important confession is to make us ready to receive Him. How beautiful is Baptism and Confession and Eucharist -- a kind of triple annunciation!

The second gift we receive in this great celebration is our Mother -- a beautiful mother; a mother so pure and gentle and holy and good; who is also Queen. Men look for a beauty to serve; here, men, we have the most beautiful woman. And she is a model of holiness for everyone, an advocate, an intercessor of grace for us: "Heavenly Father," our Lady and Queen prays, "free them from sin. Draw them to your Son's Sacred Heart."

How beautiful it is: that God the Father not only gives us His Son, He gives us a Mother. 

*

For me, this renews my love of the Hail Mary and the Rosary. It is such a wonder and a gift: I get to say the same words that the Archangel said! "Hail Mary, full of grace!"

And what is the next line? 

"The Lord is with you."

Yes, yes He is. Right here, coming to us in the Eucharist. Let us praise the Father, with Mary, praising Him for "He who is mighty has done great things. And holy is His Name!"

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Monday, August 28, 2023

A Confessor's Confession - Homily for the 21st Sunday in OT (A)

 In February of next year, I will be leading a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. You are invited. 

A pilgrimage is a very blessed time and a special opportunity of grace. When I went to the Holy Land in 2020, I was able to visit Caesarea Philippi, the northernmost city of Jesus' public ministry, and I was able to go to where this morning's Gospel takes place. In that spot, Peter would have seen two things.

First, he would have seen the headwaters of the Jordan River. Snowmelt from Mount Hebron and the mountains to the north flow southward thru Caesarea and, at the spot where Jesus asks for Peter's confession, the waters are a flowing stream with little waterfalls. It is a beautiful spot -- and spiritual place, too, given that these are the origins of waters where Jesus would be baptized.

The second thing that Peter would have seen was a large, dark cave. For the pagan peoples, this cave was believed to be the doorway to hell -- to Hades. As Jesus says the words, "And the gates of the netherworld will not prevail," He would have literally been able to point to that cave. It was also the place where hedonistic rituals were held in honor of Pan.

The contrast would have been striking. The waters of mercy on the right; the darkness of evil on the left.

It is here that Jesus asks Peter: "Who do you say that I am?"


When Peter responds, "You are the Christ!" Jesus praises Peter's confession and rewards him with "the keys to the kingdom of heaven." And Jesus tells him: "Whatever you bind [that is, lock] on earth, is bound in heaven. And whatever you loose [unlock] on earth, is unlocked in heaven."

The gift is unusual. (Who gives someone keys as a reward?) But there is a history to this gift. In the Old Testament, the King of Israel would possess a key on a neck-chain. When the King would depart from his kingdom, whether on a military campaign or to advance trade relations, etc, he would give the key to the steward, the second in command. That steward, then, would possess all of the rights and responsibilities in the kingdom that the King had. While the King was away, the steward could open the kingdom's treasuries of gold or of grain; he could set weights and measures; he could lock or unlock cities. The steward was not the King, but he was endowed with the King's powers. Lest that power go to the steward's head, when the King returned, the steward would need to give an account of the stewardship.

So, when Jesus, the King of Kings, gives Peter the keys to the kingdom of heaven, Jesus is raising Peter to the second-in-command. Later on, the King will depart this earth at the ascension; Peter will then be the one in command, with the powers of the King, until Jesus returns on the Last Day.


Part of those powers, to bind and to loose, means that Jesus has given Peter power to forgive sins (for what else can Jesus' words mean when He says, "whatever you bind on earth is bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth is loosed in heaven"?). 

Here, we arrive at a question I often receive from my Protestant brothers and sisters -- and even from some Catholics: "Why must I confess my sins to a priest ... to a man?"

The answer is found by asking another question: "Did God need Noah in order to save Noah's family from the flood?"

Did God need Noah?

Of course not. God is all-powerful. God could have built an ark Himself. He didn't need Noah.

And yet, He employs the help of Noah.

We can also ask: Did God need Moses in order to save Israel, to convince Pharaoh, to part the Red Sea and so on? Of course not. God could have done it on His own.

And yet, He employs the help of Moses.

Did God need David ... or the prophets ... in order to lead Israel, to pre-announce the coming Messiah, to exhort people to repentance and "making straight the ways of the Lord"? Of course not! God could have said all of this from the clouds -- as He does elsewhere -- and He could have ruled from the heavens. He didn't need David or any of the Kings or any of the prophets.

In fact, many of those kings got in the way!

And yet....

And yet God uses these men to rule Israel and to announce the coming Kingdom.

Even the Apostles and Peter -- Jesus doesn't need them. He could have done it all Himself. Held the keys Himself.

And yet ... He gives the keys to Peter -- Peter who is not the holiest man around, Peter who sticks his foot in his mouth, Peter who "thinks like men and not like God."

So, why? Why does Jesus do this? Why does He employ as confessors men in need of confession?


The second reading:

Oh, the depth of riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How inscrutable are his judgments and how unsearchable his ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord...?

 

For me, I have found it fitting that God employs men to forgive sins. And here is why: when we sin, we sin not only against God, but also against men.

When you are driving down I-55 and someone cuts you off and you then decide to pull along side that son-of-a-gun and give them a one-fingered salute -- you may feel better for a moment. But maybe they cut you off by accident; maybe their child just threw up in the car. And now you have just further ruined their day. And you may feel bad about that. And you keep driving and may never see them again.

How are you going to be reconciled not only to that person, but to all of the effects that your action has on humanity, like that ripple in a lake after a stone has been thrown? Who will be the representative for humanity?

It is the priest.

By definition, the priest stands in the breach as the representative of God to men and as the representative of men to God -- and sometimes of men to men. When the priest absolves you, he "looses" you from what you owe God; but he also looses what you have owed humanity.

At the heart of this is the Incarnational Principle: that God became man and dwelt among us. And that God still uses men to deliver His divine mercy.

Even though those men, like the kings of the Old Testament, are often themselves in need of confession.


In fact, it's because I have needed confession throughout my life that I can say to you, When you come to confession, and you tell me, "Father, it's been a long time" or "Father, shoot, I got some really bad ones today" and you feel ashamed and embarrassed -- I tell you, I've been there. I've been on the other side of the screen, hoping for mercy. 

And so when you come to confession, know that you won't get judgment from me. You'll get admiration -- because I know it takes courage to confession to God and to a man.

It's also why the confessional is one of the most miraculous and amazing places for me -- to see someone come in feeling so ashamed, so enslaved by so great a weight ... and to see those chains fall off as they confess, to feel free again, and to have that new start, being right with God and men again ... it's why I was ordained. And it is truly awesome. 

Many Protestants, when they become Catholic, say that the Sacrament of Reconciliation (confession) is the best kept secret and the greatest treasure of Catholicism. "More people need to know about this!" they say to me.


There's one more thing.

Jesus asked Peter -- Peter, who would become a priest and hear people's confessions -- Jesus asked Peter, a confessor, for his confession: "Who do you say that I am?"

As for me, I find that when we go to confession, we are giving answer to that question.

Lord, you are the Son of God. Your wisdom is deep. Your mind inscrutable. You have given the keys of mercy to the lowest of sinners. And I find that profound. Truly, your ways are not my ways. But you are God. And I am not. ... What a gift to be able to unlock mercy in your most holy Name!


In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sunday, July 9, 2023

Finding Rest in Mental Illness - 14th Sunday in OT (A)

Several years ago, during my seventh year of priesthood, I started to develop an anxiety disorder and depression. It runs in my family and I thought that, as I was in my mid-thirties and not showing the major signs as some members of my family had, that perhaps I had escaped mental illness. But then during my seventh year of priesthood, I started developing panic attacks. And they would almost always happen at Mass. You see, not only was I stressed out from the work of being a priest. I also dreaded preaching. 

It wasn’t always like that. When I first became a priest, I had great excitement about preaching. I thought, “I get to inspire so many people! It’s going to be awesome!” But after seven years, I learned that not everyone wants to hear the truth or likes the truth. I learned that not everyone has a sense of humor. I learned that many people have unreasonable expectations. And I learned that not everyone is mentally healthy. Put that all together and I started to see that preaching was dangerous. 

And that danger made me restless. Anxious. And as I started to doubt whether I was making a difference, it became dreadful. 

I even started to think that Jesus’ words about the “yoke being easy” was a lie. To take a page from Father Schroeder’s puns: I felt that the yoke was on me. 

I carried on like that for about three years. Then the pandemic hit. People started talking more about mental health. And going to counseling didn’t seem to have the stigma that it once did, so that’s what I did. I went to counseling and started seeing a good Catholic therapist.

Let me take a quick detour in this story. 

In my days at seminary, I had learned that the human person is comprised of his intellect, his will, and his passions (or emotions and appetites). The intellect was made to arrive clearly at the true and the good; the will was made to follow the decision of the intellect; and the passions were meant to serve that endeavor by providing strength and zeal. 

But with mental illness, the intellect is often broken, the will weak, and the emotions – well, they can be a mess. 

One of the more memorable lessons of my time in counseling was what I call the analogy of the rollercoaster. Imagine there are two people watching people ride a rollercoaster. Most people, when they watch a rollercoaster, will have one of two thoughts. They will say, “Wow! That’s looks exciting!” Or they will say, “Ugh! That looks dreadful!” 

In both cases, the rollercoaster has stirred something in them. It has actually stirred the same thing in them. They both see danger. The emotions have been piqued. Now comes the analysis of the intellect. Only one has come to the conclusion that in the danger there is an adventure worth going on. Only one sees a good and happy ending. How you see the ending will determine whether the stirring is anxiety or excitement. 

That’s one of the problems with having anxiety for a while. It keeps pressing on you, depressing you. And you start wondering whether anything good can come of going on the rollercoaster again. But you keep on getting stirred up. Life is dangerous. Every day, I had to face that danger and go to the pulpit to give a homily. It was my rollercoaster. 

Ok, back to the story. 

So, during one of my therapy sessions, my counselor gave me a great insight. “Father,” she said, “what if the emotion you are feeling which gives you anxiety is simply the same emotion that gives you excitement?” 

That is to say, once upon a time, I saw the pulpit as an exciting rollercoaster. During my panic attacks, I saw it as a dreadful one. What had changed? It wasn’t the rollercoaster. It wasn’t the danger. It was that I now knew the danger. I knew the weight Jesus’ yoke could have on my shoulders. 

My counselor challenged me. She said, “Go to Jesus and learn from Him.” 

In the storm, did Jesus freak out? What about when He was in front of Pilate? Or battling the devil? Did He get anxious when the crowd rejected Him? He was peaceful, restful through it all. And why? 

Because He loved His people. 

And He knew how it would end. 

And He knew He was loved by the Father. 

Those three things: He loved His people; He knew how it would end; and He knew He was loved – this would make the yoke easy and the burden light again. 

So, I took this to my chair at Mass. When I felt anxiety, I would have to remind myself, “Self, this is just a stirring. The same kind of stirring as before a rollercoaster. Sure, it is dangerous; but love is dangerous. Love always entails a risk. But it is exciting. I get to inspire people today. It will end well. There is glory and heaven. And through it all, the Father loves me.” 

I started praying differently. I used to pray: “Lord, please don’t let me make a mistake.” Now it’s “Lord, help me to laugh when I do.” 

I never thought I would have to intentionally practice good mental health. I just always presumed I would be mentally healthy. I never thought I would have to take medication for my brain -- or for cholesterol. But here we are.

And I’m thankful for it. I’d like to think it has made me more humble; and more compassionate to those with depression and anxiety and those who just struggle with daily tasks that so many of us take for granted as always being easy. 

In sum, I like to think it humbled me enough to finally come to Jesus in submission to His command: "Come to me." 

And when I came to Him, I discovered that coming to Him wasn't really a long distance, even though it felt like it. He was always there. The yoke wasn't strapped simply to my back, but to His as well.

The more I learn that from Him, the more I cast my worries upon Him, the more I find I can stand up here with excitement and not dread. 

That He has kept His promise that this would give me rest -- well, that has inspired me all the more to tell you about it.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sunday, June 25, 2023

Sparrows - 12th Sunday in OT (A)

You are worth more than many sparrows.

So there are many apps for your phone out there. Some interesting and productive; others not at all. Recently, I was introduced to Merlin. Merlin is an app that can identify a bird just by its song. Now, I'm not a bird guy (I've actually always thought that bird watchers were a little eccentric, forgive me), but I did find it fascinating that there was an app that could identify birds just by their song.

So I downloaded Merlin one evening and sat on my back patio with a beveragee and gave it a shot. Sure enough, it worked. And I was blown away by the number of birds just in my back yard: I've heard cardinals, house finches, mockingbirds, hawks, and sparrows -- lots of sparrows.

Since downloading the app, I have unconsciously trained my ear to hear the songs of birds and now I can identify several without using the app. And the bird that I hear the most of: sparrows. There are so, so many house sparrows around here. And at gas stations. I've noticed they like gas stations. (Hmm, I appear to have become eccentric).

Here's the thing: if one of those sparrows would die, I wouldn't notice. There are too many of them. Yet, Jesus says, "Not one of them falls to the ground without your Father's knowledge" (Mt 10:29). That's amazing to me, that God knows every sparrow -- and He knows them because each and every one of them is important to Him. He created each one.

Jesus then says: "You are worth more than many sparrows" (Mt 10:31). That is to say, if the heavenly Father should notice just one sparrow's death, and you are worth more than many sparrows, how much more will he notice you -- how terribly important you are to Him."

"Even all the hairs of your head have been counted" (Mt 10:30).

He knows what happened in the depths of the Atlantic this week. He knew each and every one of those men. Each one was terribly important to Him. He even know each and every hair on their head. And he knows yours. Each and every one.

My mind struggles to fathom this. But as I try to, I find a deep consolation. I am important to the Father.

***

In between all of these lines is a little phrase. Jesus says, "So do not be afraid" (Mt 10:30-31). Why does He say this?

Two reasons: because the world is dangerous; death can come at a moment's notice and at times seem arbitrary; things can look absurd, flimsy, meaningless. And because of all of that, we can easily become anxious and afraid. So, Jesus reassures us: Your life is not meaningless; and when you die (and we all will), it will be noticed by the Father.

A second reason why Jesus tells us not to be afraid: well, because when we think that our life or death is meaningless, when we think we are just another sparrow among a flock of sparrows, it is easy to just remain there. When I think my song is unimportant or unheard, I easily stop singing. Or, to flip the coin over, when everyone else is silent, I too can easily remain silent.

The low-hanging-fruit example is when it comes to witnessing to the faith. So, so many people are quiet when it comes to speaking about the faith. That Jesus is real. That He died and rose. That He founded the Catholic Church. That the Church, despite her warts and all, is still the treasure house of objective Truth and grace. That her voice is the voice of Jesus. And He speaks tenderly but firmly about things like how your must forgive if you want to be forgiven; you must repent of sin; the Eucharist is the greatest gift; marriage is between one man and one woman only; God only made two sexes, male and female; each is made in His image and therefore has inviolable dignity and cannot be willy-nilly destroyed as in euthanasia and abortion....

There are clearly more sparrows than blue jays out in this world. And the sparrows need to speak up a little more. And by sparrows, I mean you. And me.

And I know: we can be afraid. I'm afraid that if I speak the truth in clarity, will I be seen as unloving. Truth can be spoken in firmness and kindness; that is Love. Love wills the good of another. I want people to be free of the slavery which our social ills are causing. I speak, truly, from compassion.

Can I tell you something I have realized? 

I can be as gentle and compassionate as Jesus, but when it comes to speaking hard truths, many will not listen, just like many didn't listen to the gentle and compassionate Jesus.

And that is irksome to me. I believe that my sparrow-song is important. And gentle.

But to the world, I am just a sparrow. And annoying.

But my Father notices. And He loves hearing the song He has placed in my mouth. So I will not be afraid. I will keep on singing....

You are worth more than many sparrows.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.