The Aspiration - Homily for the Solemnity of All Saints (2020)

I have an opening question to start today's homily. And that question is this: 

To what do you aspire in life? What is your life’s aspiration?

To have an aspiration means to have a dream, a goal, something to which you orient your life. That—whatever that is (that job, that home, that life)—that is what I want, that is what I want to achieve, that is what I'm aspiring to. 

The word “aspire” comes from the Latin, ad + aspirare. And it literally means: to breathe out. In other words, your aspiration is what you are breathing for. So, let me rephrase the opening question:

In this life, for what are you breathing?

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We breathe for many things in this life, but Our Lord says that those in heaven breathed for the following things. I've made a list. Those in heaven lived for the following things:

1. Him. 

            ...   

            ...

That's the list.

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My favorite mosaic
from the All Saints' Chapel
in the Cathedral Basilica in St. Louis

And who is this Jesus that they lived for, breathed for? He is the one who didn't care about the treasures on earth, because He had treasures in heaven; He was poor in spirit. He didn't need to be powerful on earth because His power came from above; He was humble and meek. Jesus was merciful and yet He hungered and thirsted for righteousness-- and still a peacemaker. He wanted this for others and when they refused, He mourned. He was pure in heart. And, because of all of this, He was persecuted.

And those in heaven-- because they breathed Him and loved Him, they became like Him. They were poor in spirit and pure in heart and merciful and even persecuted for it all. They are blessed and holy in heaven.

The Latin word for that is “sanctus,” from which we get the word saint.

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 St. John tells us that these, the saints, were the ones who “survived the times of great distress.” Times of great distress. We hear that and we may think of our own times. But, really, every single age, every single century has seen its struggles and its battle with evil and darkness. Such things are not simply for our age or the so-called Dark Ages. If you are breathing, you are going to experience "times of great distress."

And the saints are the ones who survived them. That is: they kept the faith.

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Some children at school ask me: Father Gerber, how many saints are there?

John says in the Book of Revelation that there are 144,000.

But anyone who has read the Book of Revelation knows that his language is not simply literal, but deep and often symbolic. The number 144,000 is not simply literal. It means something.

First, you take the 12 tribes of Israel, the people of the Old Testament. Then, take the 12 apostles, the foundation stones of the New Testament. What do you get when you multiply 12 by 12? You get 144.

Additionally, the number 1,000 meant, in ancient times, a large multitude. 

So, multiply that by 144 and what do you get? 144,000.

In a deeply symbolic language, John was saying: In heaven, there will be a large multitude of people who come from the Old Testament and the New, Jew and Gentile alike.

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But there is a question that comes from that. And the pressing question is this: will you and I be in that number? Will we be saints in heaven?

When the St. Louis Blues Hockey Team scores a goal, there is a song that is played on the organ. It's a delightful little song-- a Black Spiritual, actually-- that has lyrics: 

            When the saints go marching in

            O when the saints go marching in

            O Lord, I want to be in that number

            When the saints go marching in.

I love that. Each time the Blues score, I am reminded of my goal, of what I should be aspiring for in this life: I want to be in that number.

The whole goal of my life is to get to heaven. The whole goal of your parenting is to bring your kids to heaven. That's it-- to march in that number.

And that means, to put a very fine point on it: it means that, in order to get into heaven, we need to become saints.

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And as you hear that, you may wonder: "Well, shoot, if I gotta be a saint, I got no chance of getting into heaven."

And I think one of the reasons why we say that is because, firstly, we think that saints are only those who are canonized by the Pope. And that's not correct. They are many saints in heaven who have never been canonized.

But, I think the deeper reason why we don't think we can ever be a saint is because we have the saints "way up here." We see them as god-like and porcelain statues on pedestals without much personality. But, the reality is, is that they had emotions, some of them out of control emotions, and temptations-- lots of temptations!-- and fears and anxieties and doubts and even arguments with their spouse and their children. 

We tend to forget that Jesus came not for the righteous, but for the sinners. 

And one of the things about the saints is that they were firstly sinners-- ordinary people like you and me-- who responded to the extraordinary graces offered them in this brief life.

Can I tell you a brief story about such a saint?-- a saint who has given me inspiration for my aspiration...

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There was this guy named Mark. Not the evangelist Mark. A different Mark. This is a true story.

Mark was raised in a Christian family. He was a pretty ordinary guy. Tried to help out in his community. Became a doctor—ok, so he was slightly above ordinary.

And one day he came down with a stomach illness. It was pretty bad. And he was treated with some a powerful medication that contained opium-- which is the stuff of heroin. Mark recovered, but he became addicted to the opium drug. And he was ashamed and his family embarrassed.

He tried to break the addiction to the heroin, but he would fall. But, being a good Catholic, he would go to confession and receive God's mercy and resolve to do better. And Mark would do better, but then he would fall again. And he would go to confession again and receive mercy again and resolve to do better and he would do better for a time, but then he would fall again. It was a cycle. Fall, confession, mercy, resolve, fall, confession--

And, unfortunately, during one of those confessions, the priest told him to stop coming to confession and the Eucharist until Mark stopped the addiction.

Brutal.

(That is not the teaching of the Catholic Church, by the way).

So, there Mark is, an addict to heroin, unable to be absolved, and prohibited from receiving communion. With all that shame and embarrassment.

At this point, I think it would be safe to assume that most people would have given up and fallen away from the faith.

But Mark did not fall away. He would go to Mass even though he was refused communion. He would come, believing in the graces of just being there, being at the place of our Lord's crucifixion and resurrection, even though it was a crucifixion for him.

For 30 years he did this. 30 years. Can you imagine? Unable to receive the Sacraments, addicted to heroin for 30 years?

But when Mark prayed, he prayed to be brought to heaven. There was that hope in him. He aspired for this one thing: to be with Jesus forever in heaven—that is, if Jesus would take an addict.

One day, in Mark's hometown, it became illegal to go to Mass and to be a Christian. Mark and his family were arrested and were to be executed. The officials were going to kill Mark first, but he begged to be killed last so that none of his family would die alone.

And that's what happened. Mark was with his family members and comforted them in their final hour. And was killed last.

He died as a heroin addict. And as a saint. Mark is a saint because he persevered, carrying the Cross until the very end. Saint Mark Ji Tianxiang was canonized by Pope John Paul II—also a saint—on October 1^st, in year 2000, one-hundred years after his martyrdom.

And I only tell you his full name now because, up until I now, you thought Mark could have been anyone in our community. And that's the point: any of us can be saints.

Had I led off that story telling you he was a man who lived ages ago and in a foreign land-- had I led off with that, you would have put him on a pedestal and thought it unidentifiable.

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But Mark is one in that number that is marching in. And you and I can be one of them, too.

Mark aspired to be in heaven. Even though his life was being consumed with heroin, his deepest breaths were for Jesus.

And because of that, Mark now breathes the free air of heaven-- where there is no more suffering, no more tears, and no more heroin.

And that brings me to the end. And I'll end where I began: with a question:

To what are you aspiring in life?

For what are you breathing?