Hometown Hero - Homily for the 14th Sunday in OT (B)

 “My power is made perfect in weakness.” 

In 2005, one of the best Major League Baseball players was Lance Berkman. Born near Houston, Texas, Lance had the opportunity to be the hometown hero as his Houston Astros—of which he was the first baseman—played the Saint Louis Cardinals in the National League Championship Series. The winner would go on to the World Series. 

Near the end of the game, in the bottom of the eighth inning, Lance hit a three-run homerun to put his team ahead. After the inning, Lance—a devout Christian—began to pray to God: “Lord, if you let us win this game, I will give you all the glory in the post-game press conference” – you know how that goes: a Christian-athlete, during the interviews, starts off by saying, “I just want to start off by giving credit to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ …” 

And that’s what Lance was telling God he would do if the Lord let them win.

 Well, in the top of the ninth inning, during the Cardinals’ last at-bat, the most-prolific home-run hitter in Cardinals’ history walked to the plate: Albert Pujols. Albert, also known as “The Machine,” was going to face Houston’s closer: Brad Lidge. Brad wound up, threw his pitch, and before a full-house of crazed Houston Astro fans, Albert Pujols hit that ball into the stratosphere. The Cardinals were now ahead and the Astro fans were quiet. Despairing. 

Lance Berkman, the first baseman, said it was so quiet you could hear Albert Pujols’ cleats digging the dirt as he rounded first base. 

“This is not what we had agreed on,” Lance said to God. 

This was a crushing defeat. 

And most people thought that the Astros wouldn’t be able to come back from such a defeat. But they did. Surprisingly, they beat the Cardinals in that series. Yet, it wasn’t happily ever after. The Astros lost (quite spectacularly) in the World Series that year. 

Lance Berkman faced another crushing defeat. 

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“My power is made perfect in weakness.”      

Fast-forward six years to 2011. Lance was now playing first base for the Saint Louis Cardinals. And that year, the Cardinals made it to the World Series. They made it to Game Six, but were behind by two runs in the bottom of the tenth inning (this was the game that they were down by two runs and were down to their final strike, but they miraculous game back that inning). Now they were down again and whose turn was it to come up to the plate? 

Lance Berkman. 

Now, if you are a Cardinals fan, you remember the 2011 Game Six as the game where David Freese hit the glorious game-winning home-run that would send the Cardinals on to a Game Seven and, ultimately, to the World Series Championship. 

Everybody remembers David Freese. He was the hometown hero. Born and raised in St. Louis. 

Few remember what Lance did. 

Lance, that year, had something like thirty homeruns. A great year. And, as it was near the end of his career, it was a special year. (In his final two years, he would go on to hit eight homers… combined). Few remember that. 

Few remember that, with two outs and the opposition up two runs and Lance facing two strikes, Lance was probably going to be the one standing at the plate as the Cardinals’ season came to an end. 

I can’t imagine losing not just one, but two World Series. 

Before the game, Lance had prayed: “Lord, if I am in a position where the game is on the line and you give me the opportunity of being up to bat, please just give me peace.” As he approached the plate in the bottom of the tenth with the game on the line, he made that prayer again: “Just give me peace.” 

And no one remembers: Lance hit the game-tying single. Not sexy nor glorious like a homerun. But it tied the game. 

And in the next inning. David Freese would hit his famous homer to win it. 

And get the glory. 

And it was David that was the focus of the post-game interview. 

I love this story because, Lance was loved in the clubhouse; a great teammate. Had perspective, leadership. Was named the National League Comeback Player of the Year and also the Cardinals’ Teammate of the Year. And part of me wonders whether that all came from having previously tasted devastating defeat. 

“My power is made perfect in weakness.” 

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Jesus was supposed to be the hometown hero. 

The Messiah – right there from Nazareth. 

But the people of Nazareth “took offense at Him.” They rejected him. Why? 

Well, Nazareth was known to be a kind of armpit of Israel. When the first apostles came to Nathaniel and told him that they had found the Messiah in Nazareth, Nathaniel snorted: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” (John 1:46). 

And the people there believed that. They didn’t think anything good could come from such a forgettable place—much less did they think that The Messiah could come from their streets. 

They knew the streets. They knew each other. So, how in the world would God – well, how could power and greatness come from a carpenter’s shop? How could the Messiah come from an ordinary family? How could any prophet – how could anything good – come from Nazareth? 

And so they took offense at Him, as though to say to Jesus: “You think you are somehow different from us? You think you are better than us? You are part of the same ordinary and weak stuff that we are made from.” 

And Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith – for had not God, when He chose the Jews, chosen not the splendid and the powerful and the glorious, but the lost and wandering? They had forgotten their very origins: God is always choosing the weak and lowly—and employing them for the great and glorious. 

Yes, he was amazed at their lack of faith—that God had chosen Moses, a slave-girl’s son, to be the greatest leader of His people; that God had chosen David, a humble shepherd, from the tiniest town of Bethlehem; that God had chosen the harlot Rahab … that God could choose whomever from wherever – even the weakest from the lowest – to be the hometown hero and the greatest. 

But they took offense at Him. 

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I think each of us has a little of that Nazareth in us. 

We think: I wanted to do great things in my life, but as I have grown older, I have found that I’m really nobody special. I’m weak and sinful and I live in fly-over country. Nothing great will come from my life. 

We think that we have to be holy or perfect or at least somewhat good before God can do something with us. I say: why would God use me when I’m so sinful? Why would God use me when I am old? 

The alcoholic: why would God use someone with addictions? 

The mentally ill: how could God use someone who struggles so much to see reality clearly? 

Yes, all of us fall for the lie that God will only use the great and the perfect to do the great and advance the perfect. 

But: “my power is made perfect in weakness.” 

David Freese – did you know that, during that season when he hit the game-winning homerun in that World Series—did you know that he was battling tremendous social anxiety and depression? 

Saint Therese of Lisieux, the Little Flower, known for incredibly sugary passages of love and sacrifice – she battled incredibly dark moments of doubt. 

Saint Paul, as you heard in that passage from his second letter to the Corinthians, battled “a thorn in the flesh.” We don’t know what that was. It could have been a physical pain; it could have been a morally sinful inclination that he had – what we do know is that he asked God to take it away. Three times, “Lord, take it away.” But God didn’t take it away. 

To use Lance Berkman’s language: “Lord, this is not what we had agreed on.” 

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But praise God for that. 

That area in your life that you are struggling with – maybe that is precisely the area that God is going to use to do great things. 

Maybe that part of you that you are most ashamed about or embarrassed about—maybe that is the Nazareth that you think nothing good will come from, but from which will come the Savior. 

Maybe that stuff is preciously the stuff that God wants us to bring to Him and say, “Ok, Lord, I believe that you can bring about good, even from here. Even though it isn’t perfect or holy or even good.” 

And maybe that is what we should ask for: for that kind of faith. If Jesus was amazed at Nazareth’s lack of faith, I want Him to be amazed at the depth of my faith! If Nazareth believed that nothing special could come from such an ordinary armpit of Israel, I will believe that everything special can come from His work in the ordinary, even embarrassing areas of my life. 

And where you couldn’t do your miraculous work there, Lord, do it here. 

Jesus, you are my hometown hero.

Credibility & Scandal - Free write on the feast of St. Thomas

 One of the commonly held misconceptions is that faith and science are opposed. Is this true?

 Let’s take a very simple, real-world example and go from there.

 If I were to do an experiment which involved liquid nitrogen (let’s say, to turn magnets into superconductors), I would go to my closet of elements and pull the metal canister with the label “Liquid Nitrogen.” I would then do my experiment.

 What I wouldn’t do is: test whether or not the “stuff” in the metal canister is liquid nitrogen; nor would I test whether or not the Scientific Method is a valid method for achieving measurable results.

 I trust that the label placed on the metal canister was placed there by someone who already validated that the element is nitrogen; likewise, I trust that the Scientific Method has similarly be validated. I trust those things because, implicitly, I trust those people behind those things – even though I have never met those people.

 If I had rampant skepticism, I would never be able to do the experiment at hand. I would have to personally validate every single scientific “fact” that was given to me, from the element, to the method, to the balance of the scales, to the basics of magnetism, and so on. And since I would be wasting all of my time on that and not on the experiment at hand, I would never progress scientific knowledge.

 Doubt is such a waste of time!

 In order to be a good scientist, I must necessarily trust so much of what has come before me. I must stand on the shoulders of those who have come before me. So, I need to trust them. Or, to put it another way, in order to do science, I must have faith in what has come before.

 The Catholic religion is very similar.

 Like scientists that don’t have to re-validate the Scientific Method, I don’t have to prove the validity of the Resurrection. The “scientist,” Thomas the Apostle, already did the experiment. As did ten others who were in the room. And another five-hundred a few weeks later. Thomas (though he was quite incredulous at the time) actually touched and he saw and he heard – and his results were validated by others who were equally surprised by this new knowledge. The atom can be split? Death can be overcome? Who would have thunk it!

 Their results were published.

 The problem – and here is where science and Catholicism separate a little – is that scientists, if they wanted, could still do the experiment on the most basic assumptions, whereas Catholics cannot. On a practical level, scientists and Catholics are very similar in that we all presume on that previously-attained knowledge; none of us has to re-do the experiment. But on another level, we are different in that Catholics cannot re-do the experiment.

 So, although science and religion do share a commonality – that is, trust, or faith – they do differ in that religion, unlike science, has as an essential component: credibility. Catholicism doesn’t simply say, “I believe your results.” Catholicism also says, “I believe… you.”

 This is why Thomas’ personal battle is so instructive.

 He didn’t just simply disbelieve in the Resurrection. (That could very well be understood at the time, given its extreme novelty). But what Thomas also disbelieved were his friends – the very men and women whom he had lived with for years and whom he had trusted all that time. In this moment, he wasn’t just doubting the extreme results of an experiment they had already done, he was forgetting everything that made them – his friends and their results – credible.

 Credibility: the “stuff” that makes a person trustworthy; the ability to trust another.

 And not only that, be had also forgotten the other miracles: the loaves and fishes, the walking on water, the raising of Lazarus, etc. Wasn’t it plausible that the man, Jesus, whom they had witnessed do these miracles also could do this particular miracle of the Resurrection?

 Faith is not a blind leap or a leap in the dark. There are reasons to believe; there is credibility behind the trust. And Thomas had every reason to believe.

 So, why didn’t he believe at his first hearing of the Resurrection?

 Simply: scandal.

 He had been scandalized by the crucifixion. He had been hurt by it, disillusioned by it. A seed of doubt was planted in his mind: “maybe I have been duped.”

 This happens all the time. We grow up from the children’s stories – Santa Claus – and then we hear that some of them were made up. As we see revealed the light behind the curtain in Oz, all else is cast in the dark shadow of doubt. This confuses us. Hurts us, even. Who can we trust? We are truly lambs among the wolves!

 Catholicism over its past century, it would seem, has lost a lot of its credibility; the scandals, the lack of holiness, the lack of “results.” The scandal of the Cross – oftentimes, self-inflicted – tempts us, like it did Thomas, to throw the baby out with the bathwater, to forget something so essential to both science and Catholicism: the foundations.

 Thomas’ disillusionment and hurt are healed when he touches Jesus – and not just Jesus’ side, but all the way up (through the hole created by the lance) to the heart itself. This is why Thomas cries out in surprise “My Lord and my God!” What has happened? He touched Jesus’ heart, literally, and found that it was beating. Jesus was really alive.

 In that moment, Thomas’ incredulity and disillusionment disappeared. His friends were vindicated. And he was taught: “Thomas, blessed are those who do not see and yet still believe.”

 While this final line of Jesus’ teaching exhorts us, there is more to it than that. Jesus is telling Thomas: “Thomas, your disillusionment was healed because you got to see and to touch. Not everyone is going to get that opportunity. So, how will people believe what you saw? And when they believe – often because of the credibility gained by the new life you are about to embark upon – will you not realize how miraculous that will be?”

 How miraculous it is when someone has gone through the Cross of scandal and disillusionment – and still comes to believe.

 For me, I came to believe because of the logical, the reasonable – I see the results of Catholicism’s first experiments, its foundations, as entirely credible. I trust what Thomas (and others) experienced because I know the results of that eroding doubt that comes from distrusting what others have experienced and not affording the benefit of a doubt, especially when the something claimed is so extraordinary. I trust them, too, because, psychologically, it is impossible to have so many people experience the same “hallucination.” I trust, too, because this did change his life. Not in the radical I-will-blow-myself-up kind of way, but in radical kill-me-if-you-must-I-will-not-doubt-again kind of way.

 That may not be enough to assuage the weight and splinters of the crosses that others carry. It may require an encounter with aesthetic Beauty – in the Cathedrals, the art, the music, the liturgy – or the moral Beauty not only in the saints (and they are inspiring!) but also in the current day and age. I love being around someone who loves God and others well.

 I am convinced that if Catholicism in the present era has lost some credibility, it isn’t because the Resurrection isn’t true, it’s because her members haven’t lived out the results of the first experiment and the beauty of that has been hidden. The First Experiment shows the impact that faith has. Until that enters in, we are like scientists who are trying to re-do every experiment instead of basing the present life-experiment on the results of those who have come before. Instead of progressing in faith, many spin their wheels in doubt. The effect is a cultural rot where a mob of individuals rules the day.

 And that affects both religion and science.

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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!

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. 

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 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.

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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.

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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. 

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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.

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.