Saint Joseph the Worker - Homily for Day 8 of the Carmelite Novena (2021)

 This evening, on the penultimate night of our holy novena, in this holy year of Saint Joseph, the heavenly Father gathers us together once more to contemplate the depths of His mercy and the beautiful wisdom of His divine plan. Particularly, He desires we reflect upon Saint Joseph as the Model of Workers. 

One of the constants of human life is the cooperation in the creative impulse of God. From the first days of caring for the Garden to these recent days marked by industrialization and new technologies, man has be invited to unite his intellect and will to that of the heavenly Father—for the praise of His glory—in the opus Dei: that is, the work of God. 

One of the oddities about human labor is that its fruits often remain through the years. We do not simply build imaginary castles in the sky; some of our labors impact the created, material world. From the brickwork here at Carmel to the Pieta of Michelangelo from centuries ago—this work still remains. Indeed, those who were most skilled at their labors often see the greatest longevity of their labors. Many of the aqueducts of the Roman Empire still exist today. 

Which makes Saint Joseph an interesting choice for the Model of Workers. Sure, we know him to be a carpenter. But, on closer examination, it appears as though nothing of his labor remains. Save but the legend of the miraculous staircase in Santa Fe, nothing of Saint Joseph’s carpentry shop remains. No table or chairs, no armoire cabinet or desk with inlay. In a way, it would seem that having Saint Joseph as the Patron of Workers would simply remind workers that their labors pass away. 

But there is one work of Saint Joseph’s that will never pass away. It wasn’t a work with wood or ruler and hammer. It was the work found in the home. 

At the heart of God’s divine plan for Saint Joseph was the work of forming a family. Of building a home on the foundation of prayer and of virtue. And of protecting the Blessed Mother and the Child Jesus when forces much larger than Saint Jospeh threatened the Holy Family. 

This is the work of Saint Joseph’s that remains: not a table or chairs, but the blessed Mother and our Savior. Indeed, without Saint Joseph laboring for the salvation of His Family against Herod, we would have no Holy Eucharist. In a very real way, the Eucharist is the greatest fruit of Saint Joseph’s labors. 

When Pope Pius XII instituted the Memorial of Saint Joseph the worker in 1955, he did so as a direct refutation of the atheistic communism of the time. The “irreligious reds” had divorced work from holiness; indeed, they had tried to make man a machine, a cog in the body politick; and to inculcate the false idea that the family—and especially God—were obstacles to the greatest good which was productivity. 

Pope Pius reminded the world that the ultimate purpose of labor is not simply productivity, but of God’s glory wherein man realizes his dignity as a cooperator in the creative impulse of God. In a word, labor is forever married to holiness. And holiness cannot be had unless it is intimately tied to the Creator and His transcendent plan for our salvation. That is to say, at the heart of Saint Joseph’s work in the carpentry shop was literally Jesus—in flesh and in mission. Jesus inspired the work of Saint Joseph and brought Saint Joseph’s work to fulfillment. 

Do you have Saint Joseph working for you? Not only have Popes exhorted the faithful to a greater devotion to the foster-father of the Redeemer, but so many saints have as well. Saint Andre Bessette, the miracle-worker of Montreal, had a profound devotion to Saint Joseph. Always encouraging people to turn to Saint Joseph, Andre—who himself was merely a porter, one who opens doors—Andre had Saint Joseph opening the doors of faith and healing to all who entrusted themselves to the pure heart of Joseph. This was Saint Andre’s greatest work and it was a work of holiness that is remembered in Montreal and throughout the world to this day.

 *** 

In these most recent days, we have seen a resurgence of communism and its errors and evils. Concurrently, we have also seen the rise of automation and a generation that sees labor as a drudgery ultimately to be avoided. The absence and the end of labor—which is idolized today as “retirement”—is quite wrongly seen as the ultimate good. Long forgotten is that rich tradition and treasury of social encyclicals of our Holy Catholic Church that harken not only to man’s rights concerning labor, but also to man’s responsibility to develop and use our talents for the glory of God and the good of others. Why should our labor for holiness and the kingdom of God end when we hit “retirement age”? 

May these present evils, through the intercession of our Holy Patron, be conquered! 

For it is Saint Joseph who renews our focus and our mission in our work. Even his hiddenness reminds us that, while most of our labors may seem inconsequential and far from something glorious—that while most of what we do remains unseen by the world—God sees. And God will reward the laborer for his work. 

In a particular way, in these days, we lift up to our heavenly Father those who are unemployed or underemployed. We lift up to Him those, too, who labor under societal structures that keep them from enjoying the fruits of their labors. We lift up to Him those who do not know rest. We lift up to Him our very selves, that we may once again find Jesus in our places of work; that we may find our mission of holiness there, and Jesus and Mary who were the ultimate labor of Joseph’s pure heart. 

Saint Joseph, model of workers. Pray for us.

Upside-Down or Right-Side-Up? - Homily for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost (ExForm, 2021)

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

One of my favorite quotes of GK Chesterton—and I paraphrase here—goes like this: The world is upside down. But God is in the business of making it right-side up. 

A lot of our world is upside down. Even in some sectors of our Catholic communities, things are upside down. Those who are watering down the faith and sowing confusion are often extolled as so faithful and so forward thinking whereas the devout are so often ridiculed as Pharisaical. Talk about love, and those who have no definition of it other than that it can mean anything—including the union of that which is opposed to God (who is love)—they are up held as so loving, whereas those who stand and say that Love is defined and that it really is one man and woman in marriage—well, they are said to be unloving. And freedom: so many say that freedom is doing whatever one wants. And those who have large families—well, they are just rabbits and their free choice to have many children is a large carbon footprint that enslaves future generations.

I could go on. But you get the point. Something is upside-down. Evil is taught as good; good is taught as evil.

In the Gospel this morning, we see Jesus praising (through a parable) the dishonest steward. This seems upside down. And it is. So why is Jesus praising the dishonesty? He is doing so to prove that the world is consistent in its praise for the upside-down. The world, of course, as the Epistle points out, is totally enamored in the flesh, and is enslaved to the flesh—and is upside down. But it thinks that we are upside down. 

Celibacy? Upside down. Large families? Upside down. Latin Mass? Upside down. Keeping the commandments while also being generously charitable? Upside down.

Of course, those things are right-side-up. But the world doesn’t see it that way—precisely because, to the world, The Cross is upside down. The Cross is a stumbling block to the world. The Cross is a scandal, a folly, an absurdity. And that’s all because the world is corrupt in its carnal desires—and has no room for the spiritual and the transcendent. 

If we should be making a "dishonest" exchange in our stewardship, it would be confessing our sins and exchanging the fires of hell for the mere pittance of a Hail Mary in penance.

Indeed, for many in the world this exchange in the confessional-- the right-side-up exchange-- is upside-down. So foolish is God's love in the eyes of an upside down world!

That said, I know that this year has been tough for you. And some ecclesiastical news has made things even tougher. The way that I have come to understand and find consolation in these days is by looking in Sacred Scripture. There, I remember the experience of the Israelites in the Exile. The Exile is the period where the Temple is destroyed and everything is taken away from the Israelites. Their worship, their way of life, and to some degree their identity—it is destroyed and they are carried off into Babylon and Assyria. The Exile. 

But the reason for the Exile was for their hearts to be torn open and a renewing of zeal and worship and faith to enter in. For some—some—this happened. And they returned singing and praising God with all the more zeal and praise. It was a time that was totally upside-down, but God made it right-side-up again. 

[As an aside, in the Novus Ordo, the first reading is taken from the Exilic period: from Jeremiah:

Woe to the shepherds
who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture,
says the LORD. 
Therefore, thus says the LORD, the God of Israel,
against the shepherds who shepherd my people:
You have scattered my sheep and driven them away. 
You have not cared for them,
but I will take care to punish your evil deeds. 
I myself will gather the remnant of my flock
from all the lands to which I have driven them
and bring them back to their meadow;
there they shall increase and multiply. 
I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them
so that they need no longer fear and tremble;
and none shall be missing, says the LORD.

I am convinced that the same is going on here. And God will make things right-side-up again. That’s His business.] 

Yes, for those who know about the Motu Proprio: the Successor of Peter has spoken. It seems upside-down. Indeed, Peter has spoken before—on one occasion, he was praised by the Lord for his great act of faith (“Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah!”). But on another occasion, he was chided and corrected by the Lord for his upside-down thinking (“Get behind me, Satan. You are not thinking as God does, but as men do.”) 

So, Peter has spoken. But we await Jesus’ response. 

In light of that, we continue in charity and zeal, but not anger. We may grieve, for there is great loss, great disappointment, and another exile—but not without hope. We must never despair! And we may question—but not in doubt, but in faith. 

Indeed, it is often the case in human history that those who are beloved of Christ are the first to suffer the Cross. John the Beloved Apostle; Mary, the Mother of Jesus; Mary Magdalene—they were all so, so beloved. And they were at the side of Jesus Christ, experiencing the pain of the Crucifixion as our Lord was crucified. 

Peter and the rest? Cowards who fled. 

But note: at the end of Peter’s life here on earth, at the end of his earthly pilgrimage, he was crucified. And he was crucified upside-down. 

Upside-down in crucifixion, but right-side-up in the eyes of the Lord. 

And that’s how we will be. The world may look at us as if we are upside-down, but we know the reality. We know The Way, and the Truth, and The Life. We know what is right-side-up, even if it leads us to the folly of an upside-down crucifixion. 

So long as we stay in communion in the Catholic Church and close to our Lord in faith, in hope, and in charity, we will be right-side-up and straight-away into heaven! 

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

Independence - Homily for the 14th Sunday in OT (The 4th of July, 2021)

Two hundred and forty-five years ago, the founders of this great nation signed the famous Declaration of Independence. It was an act against a tyrant, King George—an act, which the founders argued, was supported by the logic inherent in all men being created equal by God and given inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The founders argued that men, when their governments, which by nature are to support these basic truths, no longer support these rights, are given the power to change or even abolish that government. 

It is really quite an amazing founding document and I hope that our children and grandchildren know of it and the circumstances that surround it; to appreciate its significance and also to understand that when these men signed the document, they were putting their life on the line. Indeed, on July 4^th, 1776, there did not begin barbeque and celebrations with beverages and family. There began the eight long years of the Revolutionary War. The War of Independence. 

Ever since, one may rightly say that Americans have an independent streak to us. We have enshrined it not only in law, but we have fought for it at home and abroad. We even enshrine it in our movies: General George Patton fighting the Nazis; Rocky Balboa in Rocky IV, fighting the Russians; Will Smith in Independence Day… fighting aliens. 

It makes me think: of any people on earth, it would seem to me that we are the ones most oriented to engage in the Ultimate declaration of independence, the wage war against the ultimate tyrant: that is, against sin and the devil. 

Of course, you start talking about sin and the devil and some roll their eyes or begin to tune out—just as I’m sure many colonists in the early days rolled their eyes and began to tune out when some crazy prophets started dumping tea in a harbor, talking about how King George was a tyrant. But all, eventually, had to engage their intellect in that moment when things began to become desperate. For, it was from there that Independence was born: from the grace of the light of intellect—and desperation. 

In the Garden of Eden, the devil swayed the intellect of Adam and Eve by saying: “If you eat from this, you will become like gods.” What the devil was doing there was sowing doubt—doubt through the implication that God was holding something back—doubt of God the Father’s goodness. What Adam and Eve didn’t know, we do: that the devil is a tyrant. And all we need to do to come to such a clear conclusion is to place him in the scales of judgment with the Heavenly Father. 

Where did all the death, disease, disorder, doubt, and despair come from? The darkness? Did it not all come from the prince of darkness, which is the devil? Yes, he is the bringer of anger and envy and ingratitude and discord and discouragement. He would drive you to the desert of isolation through suggestion and lie and deceit and duplicity, offering you friendship and—when he got you there—throw the trap and accuse you of being wretched, where he would leave you forever. 

But our heavenly Father: he is the creator of all life. And who could have eternal life in heaven but through Him? He is Truth and clarity and light and that breath of fresh air that brings order and peace. He offers joy, deep joy, and establishes community through mercy and the embrace of love. Does He convict us so that we do not go astray and into the hands of the destroyer? Absolutely. But should we go astray, He sends His Son—not a foreigner or a low-ranking nobody—He sends His Son. And He sends Him as a Good Shepherd who goes in search and, when He finds us (and He always does if we should let Him), He carries us out of that desert and brings us lovingly home. 

So, who is the tyrant? 

When you and I were baptized, our parents and godparents entered into that ultimate declaration of independence. “Do you reject Satan?” asked the priest. “I do,” they said. It was a moment of rebellion against the tyrant. Then came the war. The spiritual battle, as Paul says: “I have fought the good fight.” 

Would you say that your spiritual life is characterized by a fight against the devil? When a prophet rose in your midst—whether recently or in the long-ago past—whether a priest or a friend or a family member or a stranger—when a prophet rose in your midst and called you on to a higher way of life, did you embrace that call like that of Paul Revere, or did you get angry and feel the prick of pride like the home-folk of Nazareth? 

“Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith,” Sacred Scripture recalls to us. Which is another way of saying, “Jesus was amazed at the lack of fight in them.” The Messiah had come to lead the battle—and it was a battle, one kingdom against another, the Kingdom of Light verses the powers of darkness—the Messiah had come and where were his soldiers? 

In many ways, the devil often retards the battle before it even begins in our hearts. The evil one says: “If you give yourself so whole-heartedly to God, you won’t be able to do whatever you want.” 

Punch that temptation in the nose. 

Because, you see, independence is not about getting to do whatever you want. Independence and freedom are about doing what is right and good and what we ought to do. 

So, yes, independence does bring dependence. The founders of this nation knew this. After the Declaration, they would have to depend on one another. Independence would depend on the rallying together of community and good will and a universal vision. But that’s how life and liberty and freedom would be preserved. 

The devil would have you think that depending on God would limit your freedom—when, really, depending on God is the very thing that protects your freedom. And your happiness. And your life. 

To rebel against Him, to sin, therefore, would not only be contrary to reason and our very existence, but it would even be against being American. For at the heart of who we are is a declaration that recognizes God. And that upon Him our life and our liberty, our happiness, and even our nation are entirely dependent.