Is This Goodbye? - Homily for the Ascension (A)

+ As many of you know, yesterday we celebrated the ordination of two of our own young men: Deacon Clark Philipp and Deacon John Schneier. And it is a great joy for me to announce that Father John Schneier is going to be our new associate.       < Everyone applauds >

… Hey! Thanks a lot! < Everyone laughs >

I think this is wonderful for the parish and I am very happy for you. As you all already know: Father Schneier is gonna be great.

As I transition to become the pastor at St. Theodore in Flint Hill, I must admit that I’m really not good at goodbyes. It’s just awkward for me and, you know, there’s the whole emotions thing…. That’s actually one of the reasons why I never like the last day of school: too many goodbyes, too many tears.

This was all on my mind as I was thinking and praying about today’s celebration: the Ascension. And something hit me: where’s the crying? I mean, Jesus is leaving! Where are the tears?!

In fact, we hear the exact opposite:

            God mounts His throne with shouts of joy.

Joy?! What’s going on? Isn’t this a goodbye?

*          *          *

I think the key can be found in the second reading, where Paul says that Jesus is the “head” of the Church—the Church which is His “body.” What Paul is getting at there is that Jesus and the Church are one. Just like the head and the body of a person are one (else the person is dead!), so too Jesus and the Church are one.

            Jesus is head of the body, the Church

Paul says in his letter to the Colossians (1:18). Or, in his great tome on the topic (1 Corinthians 12), Paul writes

For just as the body is one and has many members… so it is with Christ. (v 12)

What this means is that, if Jesus is ascending into heaven, our hope is that we are too!—for where the head goes, goes the body. This is what we prayed in the opening Collect of the Mass:

Gladden us with holy joys, almighty God… for the Ascension of Christ your Son is our exaltation, and, where the Head has gone before in glory, the Body is called to follow in hope.

There’s a fine analogy I like to give to my kiddos that helps us understand the Ascension. Imagine I jump into a pool. (That’s a pretty funny thought—especially if I’m wearing my cassock!) But it’s summertime, so imagine I jump into the pool. Of course, when we jump in, the water goes over our heads and so on. Eventually, we come up out of the water. But, how do we come up? Is it feet-first? No. It’s always the head. And then out of the water comes the body.

By analogy, then, the pool is our earthly existence, the air above is heaven. Jesus jumped into the pool of our earthly existence and, becoming one with Him in baptism, as He emerges from the water—that is, as He enters into heaven, so too will we.

Provided that we remain united to Him.

*          *          *

In our modern culture, some people divorce Jesus from His Church. So, when the Church teaches something difficult, they say “Well, that’s what the Church teaches, but that’s not what Jesus would have taught.” They are separating Jesus from the Church—decapitating the head from the body. The same thing happens when people say that I can love Jesus without the Church. They don’t realize that Jesus and the Church are one and the same.

This is actually the scandal that Paul points out in Ephesians, chapter 5, when he talks about the marriage between Jesus and the Church and that Jesus is now “joined” to us and, indeed, has become “one flesh” with us. Jesus Himself foretells this when He says to the Apostles:

            Whoever hears you, hears me; whoever rejects you, rejects me (Luke 10:16)

And just to prove further that the Ascension is not a goodbye and that Jesus is not separated from the Church, when Paul himself was persecuting Christians, Jesus says

            Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? (Acts 9:4)

*          *          *

What does this mean for us? Well, in the second reading, Paul gives three very brief points for prayer. He prays:

May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened,
that you may [1] know what is the hope that belongs to his call,
[2] what are the riches of glory in his inheritance among the holy ones,
and [3] what is the surpassing greatness of his power

Let’s unpack that very, very briefly.

First: hope. Jesus our Head is in heaven; if we are united to Him, we shall also be with Him. He shows us that our pilgrimage, this Exodus, is finally over. So, never lose hope. Indeed,

We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into  [heaven]… where Jesus has gone as a forerunner (Hebrews 6:19-20)

The anchor on this ship goes up! The anchor keeps us calm in the storm. He will bring us to port.

Second: riches of glory. You have a father in heaven; we are the Prodigal Sons. If we repent, then when we return to the Father, we shall be clothed in His glory, a ring on our finger, and the sandals of freedom on our feet. And then the feast!

Third: His power. Jesus’ power is so great that everything is subject to Him. Jesus reigns as King of Heaven and Earth—

death has no power over him (Romans 6:9).

Indeed, every kingdom on earth is now subject to Him. And He will conquer every evil. For everything is placed under His feet (Ephesians 1:22)

Notice: it says “under His feet.” The feet are part of the body—that is, the Church! Do you understand what this means?

It means that if you are in His body, if you are even the lowest part—the feet—that evil no longer has power over you. With the power of God’s grace, right now, the devil no longer has power over you. Indeed, Jesus promised this for His Body, the Church, when He said:

            And the gates of hell will not prevail against it (Matthew 16:18)

So, yes. This is cause for celebration!

*          *          *

Let us turn to God in prayer; for, at the very beginning of Mass we prayed:

            You are seated at the right hand of the Father to intercede for us. Lord, have mercy.

What we are professing there is that, if Jesus is truly ascended into heaven and if we are truly united to Him as we are in His Body, the Church, then when we pray in union with Him, our prayers are literally at the right hand of the Father. That is, when you pray, your prayers are literally going up through the Body, to the Head—Jesus Christ—and your prayers are literally there at the Father’s ear. And He hears you. The Father hears you!

So ask. Ask! And rejoice. Our Lord and Head is in heaven. May we, the Body, be with Him!

To Believe Thomas - Homily for Divine Mercy Sunday (The Easter Octave) (A)

A very blessed Divine Mercy Sunday to you! This is the Octave Day of Easter—a day, just as in musical octave, where the dissonance of sin is resolved by the harmony of mercy . In ancient times, too, the octave day would be a special day after a boy’s birth. On the eighth day after his birth, the boy would be circumcised. It’s a gruesome image, but the ancient Christian Fathers saw the Resurrection as the definitive new birth—and the eighth day that followed would be the definitive cutting away of the old life and the beginning of the new.

These themes play out in any Christian’s life and, as we see today, Thomas is no stranger to this. We see that he is not there when Jesus appears on Resurrection Sunday. For some reason, he must have slept in on Easter. Or, maybe after the crucifixion, he was one of those that ran away, scandalized, afraid—maybe bitter. Whatever the reason, Thomas is isolated and not with the community on Easter.

Thankfully, Thomas rejoins the community on the eighth day, the Octave Day (Divine Mercy Sunday) and Jesus appears again. This time, Thomas sees. And not only does he see, but he also gets to touch. Thomas places his finger into the side of Christ—the side that was pierced by the lance. And Thomas exclaims: “My Lord and my God!” He believes. And not only because he touched Jesus’ side. Remember what the soldier’s lance pierced—not only the side of the Christ but also the very heart of Jesus. It was from this heart that blood and water flowed down onto the head of that soldier and, in that very moment, that soldier’s doubt was converted. He too exclaims: “Truly, this was the Son of God!”

Thomas’ finger, therefore, doesn’t simply touch the outer skin of Jesus. He brings his finger to the very heart of Jesus—the very font of mercy—and maybe Thomas realizes that it is beating and alive. And that may sound gross, but Jesus rose not simply spiritually, but in the flesh—and He is really alive. And He is alive to give us this mercy and to convert us from the old doubts to the new faith, the new life—actual, heart-pounding life.

*          *          *

Here is where the great irony—or, comedy—comes in. You see, Thomas believes precisely because he has seen and touched. But, really, he was supposed to believe his brothers. Peter and Andrew and John and all the rest actually saw Jesus risen on Easter night. Thomas, therefore, was guilty not only of not-believing that Jesus was risen from the dead, but Thomas also guilty because he did not believe them. That’s pretty amazing, given all that they had been through together. There was no reason to doubt his brothers, his friends. But he did.

As a result, Thomas’ doubt not only separated him from the risen Jesus, but also from the very people that he had known and loved. The spiritual translated into the geographical: Thomas was not there on Easter.

But Jesus has mercy on him and visits him when Thomas comes back to the community on the Octave day. Here’s where the irony/comedy comes in: After Thomas touches, Jesus says. “blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” In other words: “Thomas, you were supposed to believe your brothers, but you didn’t. Nevertheless, I am granting you this mercy (to touch), because I want you to believe. When you go out into the doubting world, the only way that they will come to believe is if they believe you—that is: I am calling them to do the very thing that you wouldn’t do for your brothers, namely, to trust. And this is going to frustrate you, and you will know the frustration and hurt your brothers had when you refused to believe them, because why should the world believe you Will you have mercy on those that doubt when they say to you the same thing you said to your brothers? Will you have mercy on them? What will be your reason for them to trust you? Will you give them my heart to touch by giving them my mercy, my new life?"

Thomas—indeed all of the Apostles—are entrusted with a great task: not only to evangelize and to announce the risen Christ to all nations, but to be trusted. And in order for them to be trusted, the Apostles must prove themselves through a radical charity heretofore never seen on the face of the earth. The world will only believe these teachers if they are first witnesses. They will need to bring the very heart of Jesus for the world to touch. On this octave day, the dissonance of the world must be far from the harmony of Christ; the old way of life must be cut from our hearts so the new heart of Christ may urge us onwards.

*          *          *

A final note: where does this Octave take place? In the same Upper Room as the Last Supper. There, the Lord had instituted the Holy Eucharist—the very Sacrament of Charity—and in turn ordained His Apostles to be the very priests that would confect it.

One may ask: when does Jesus give them the power to forgive sins? It happens on Easter night in the same Upper Room as the Last Supper and the Octave Day. On that Easter night, Jesus appears to them and says “Peace be with you.” Remember: they had all abandoned Him, crucified Him. And here Jesus comes, not rubbing their nose in it, but saying “Peace. It’s all over. I forgive you.”

In this moment, He breathes on them and gives them the Holy Spirit—the very power to forgive sins. You see, the Upper Room is all one Ordination Rite: Jesus waits to give them the power to forgive until the moment when they finally know mercy. Now that they know mercy, they are now ordained and commissioned to give it.

Why do I mention this? Because Thomas was not there on Easter night. So, on the Octave, Jesus comes and does the same thing—but this time for Thomas. And not only for Thomas, but to give the other Apostles the chance, too, to forgive. You see, after Thomas puts his finger into Jesus and believes, Thomas will say to Jesus: “I’m sorry I left you.” But then Thomas will have to turn to his brothers, too, and say, “Brothers, I’m sorry I doubted you.” And in that moment, they will be able to lavish upon their brother the very mercy which they themselves had received.

This is why the best confessors are the ones who have known well the mercy of God. Indeed, the best Christians are the ones who know this mercy, too. Indeed, this is the very heart of Jesus that the world longs to touch—“will not believe until.” That is, until we have received and then give.

In only this way will the world trust and come to believe.

Will they trust you, Thomas? Have you so trusted?

New. Life. - Homily for Easter Sunday (2017)

A very blessed Easter to you and your families.

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

A couple of years ago, I had the blessing to visit the catacombs in Rome. The catacombs, as you likely know, are the underground tombs where, during ancient days of persecution, Christians would not only bury their dead, but also celebrate the Holy Mass. I vividly remember the stairway as it plunged me underground. The brown darkness. The stale air and the smell of soil. The muffled sound. The tightness of the confines. Death…. It was there that I offered the Holy Mass.

After an hour or two, I came out of the catacombs and I remember the first taste of fresh air—there was a delightful hint of flowers—which I had taken for granted before I had gone underground. The sunlight was annoyingly bright (and how quickly I had become used to the darkness)! There was a sense of freedom, of openness, …

This was the memory that came to my mind as I prepared the words for today. It is, as I look back, a memory that provides a kind of microcosm of my life. There was a time when I was in a dark place, where the faith was stale and confining—and then there was a time when I began to “seek what is above”; I emerged from the world of death and began to breathe the fresh air of beauty and goodness and truth.

This is the question that all of us are faced with today: that is, at this very moment, in which place are you? Are you in the stale, dreary, lifeless kind of faith? or are you in the world above—where things are new and full of hope? How would you describe your faith right now?

And what is your expectation of Christianity in general? What is your expectation for today? Oftentimes, we expect things to continue as they are. So, if we’ve found little, we oftentimes expect little.

*          *          *

I’m sorry if I’m rambling a little bit today, but I’m really, really tired. We had the Easter Vigil last night and it was totally awesome—30 people came home to the Catholic Church! It was so beautiful. But it is also a really late night and here I am at the Mass at Dawn with you all. If you think this morning’s Mass is long, last night’s Mass lasted over two and a half hours! (And Monsignor was going at a really snappy clip, too!)

It was actually pretty funny: there was a young boy in the front pew—he was one of three to be baptized. And this young boy of about 10 has little idea that this Easter Vigil is going to clock in under three hours. And so we start Mass and it’s dark in here and we get through one reading. And then another. And two readings becomes five. And by the time we reach the homily, we’re nearing one hour!

And maybe I was imagining things, but I think I started to see him slowly—so slowly with each reading—slowly…  start… to…. lean forward….

And before he was able to get any sleep, his godparents brought him and the others to the baptismal font. And Monsignor asked them about whether they renounced Satan and believed in God and they said I do in that “hey, it’s past my bedtime” kind of voice. And then this young boy climbed into the baptismal pool—

And his eyes became wide: “Ooh!” This water's cold!

And Monsignor takes a big bucket of water and says “… I baptize you in the Name of the Father”—and pours the cold water on the boy. And he goes: “Oh—Brrrrhhrrrhrhrh!”

And before he can catch his breath, Monsignor pours more water: “… and of the Son…”—And now the young boy is laughing! Laughing not in the “this is silly” kind of way, but in the “this is totally awesome, invigorating, I don’t know else to respond” kind of way.

And by the time the third pour with the words “And of the Holy Spirit” were said, I knew what was happening. This young boy was being woken up. He was being filled with the Holy Spirit. This was a new day—a day that would never be forgotten. Shoot, I’ll never forget it. (I nearly laughed myself silly and cried at the same time. It was beautiful).

*          *          *

I say all this because at the very heart of Christianity is the belief in tremendous—miraculous!—transformation. Jesus died. He was as dead as a doornail. And then three days later, He is raised from the dead. This isn’t reincarnation. This isn’t re-animation. This is the Father filling His Son with a whole new and glorious life.

And it is totally reasonable to believe this. I mean, not only do the guys-in-power see it, but the women do too. Their voices matter-- or, at least, I think so. Of course, we may have learned something silly in college that filled us with doubt and plunged our faith into darkness. And we would have dismissed the ridiculousness of our misguided professors if but for one thing: some of us had already started to doubt the truth of Christianity. For those of us, we had begun to doubt because we didn’t see the tremendous, miraculous change in the very lives of those around us who claimed to be Christian. I mean, so what if this Jesus died and rose—what difference does that make in my life?

Let's admit it: for many of us, the life of faith, like that Easter Vigil, had grown long and tiresome. We have lost some of the eager expectation that was the hallmark of our beginnings in that faith. 

*          *          *

At the heart of Christianity is the scandalous assertion that this crucifixion-resurrection drama can play out not only in the life of Christ, but in every person who welcomes it. How many lives of the saints—men and women just like you and me—how many of their lives start in less than heroic (ok, let’s just say it: sinful!) ways? I mean, you think you and I are horrible sinners? Tell that to St. Paul or Augustine or Ignatius!

The Father of the Prodigal Son, on seeing his return, cries out: “My son was lost and is now found! He was dead and is now alive!”

Those words—we’re always using those words about ourselves and about forgiveness and so on. You see? The Resurrection not only shows us the victory of Christ; but it also reveals to us the very miraculous change of anyone who truly receives this same Jesus. You—you, dear brothers and sisters!—you were dead and are now alive!

This was the whole point of Lent. What was the reason for the season? The reason for Lent is to prepare us for New Life—to transform us from stale, dead ways to the new, fresh breath of new life.

So, for example, when we went to confession, there our Father forgave us of our sins—He freed us from all of that weight of all of that baggage we had been carrying for so long. We were given a new beginning of goodness. When we fasted, we learned about how much we take for granted and how attached we have become to things. That peanut butter and jelly sandwich after a long day’s fast—man, that never tasted so good! That fasting suddenly infused so much beauty and appreciation in something so simple as a PBJ for me. 

… And yeah, maybe your Lent was horrible—maybe you were a total failure. But do you know what? God was doing something in you there. He was making you humble. You see: we often think that holiness and salvation are totally up to us. They’re not. They are firstly up to God. After all, He says, “Without me, you can do nothing.” We don’t really believe that some times. We come up with a stellar plan for Lent and we beat ourselves up when we don’t follow through. Perhaps God is saying: “Ok, did you ask me for help? Do you really believe that you are really actually and totally dependent on me for everything?”

*          *          *

 At the end of the Lenten Season, I look up at the Cross and not only do I see Jesus, my Savior whom I love and owe everything. But at the end of the day, I also see myself. I see everything that was dark and evil and stale and dead in me—I see everything Jesus has taken and crucified. Crucified because He wants me to have a new life, a free life, a beautiful life!

*Looking at the Cross* That’s me before I emerged from the catacombs. That’s me when I was in a dark place: depressed, anxious, searching for meaning, angry, impatient, and resentful …

Amazing Grace: “I was blind, but now I see.”

I was lost but am found. I was dead, but am alive.

I am walking around right now in gold-- you in your Easter dresses and nice, crisp suits. We are all saying: "Hey, we're not in the tomb anymore!" We just have to live that-- which means that the dark parts of our lives need to go up on that Cross and truly die. Only then will we truly experience the beauty of this awesome, transforming Christianity.

The Resurrection is real, my dear friends. And not only because a couple saw it on that Easter morning. But because I have experienced it in my own life, too.

*          *          *

This is my prayer for you today: that our Father can say about us—indeed, that we can say it about ourselves: “I was lost and am now found. I was dead but am now alive!”

I want us to expect this kind of transformation from Christianity again.

I want the world to expect to see this kind of transformation from Christians again.

I pray our Lord may bring this resurrection into our life through the crucifixion of our old, stale lives of sin—I pray that our Lord may do this so that we can attest to the world the reality of our faith. I pray that we can speak this in word and in deed to all—I was dead, but am now alive!—and to proclaim this humbly yet confidently.

I want people to say not only of Jesus Christ, but of each one of us: “Wow, he is risen. He is risen indeed!”

May this be our expectation this Easter. May God grant us this New Life! Amen.

Of Trees and Temptations - Homily for the 1st Sunday of Lent (A)

One of the great joys of my priesthood is to be the director of the RCIA program here at St. Joe’s. The RCIA program is for those who wish to learn more about the Catholic faith and discern whether they wish to enter the Church. And we praise God that over 30 of our brothers and sisters will join us in the Eucharist for the first time at the Easter Vigil. (May we have 60 next year!)

During our months together, the RCIA participants ask a whole host of questions. And I’ve found that many questions are asked about today’s first reading from the book of Genesis. One of the popular questions I’ve heard is: “Why did God make the tree and then tell Adam and Eve not to eat from it?” As parents and grandparents, we know that if we have cookie jar and tell our children not to eat from it, what will they do five minutes later? They will be eating from the cookie jar! So, why this tree?

First, we must note that the tree is not evil. God does not make bad things. Even the serpent—he was once a good angel, Lucifer, who chose evil and who subsequently “devolved” (that’s what sin does). God makes everything good—this tree is good. But what God has done is used it as a means to teach Adam and Eve about the nature of Love. Love, if it is really love, must choose; it must choose between self-centeredness and self-sacrifice. God, when He makes the tree, is giving Adam and Eve the space to choose what kind of Love they will have: an obedient, self-sacrificial love or a disobedient, self-serving love.

Notice: do Adam and Eve have to eat from the tree to know the difference between good and evil? No. God has already told them: eat from all of those trees over there (obedience)—that is good; do not eat from this tree here (disobedience)—that is bad. He has already given them the wisdom. They don’t need to grasp for the fruit to have wisdom—they already have been given the gift!

But that’s the trick of the devil: he convinces Adam and Eve that God is holding something back.  That’s how the devil often gets us, isn’t it? Convinces us that God is not a good God, that He’s keeping something good or better from us. And so, we do our own thing and grasp for something—often at the expense of love.

So, why did God create the Tree? For love. To give us a chance to love. And, here’s the kicker: not only to love Him, but also each other; because, if we can’t trust God, then the love and the trust between spouses will quickly fail—which is precisely what happens to Adam and Eve. They cover themselves because they are now afraid—of what? Of each other. Of being used. Of not being loved.

*          *          *

This brings us to a second, often-asked question: Whose fault was it—Adam or Eve’s?

(With a smile) It was all Eve’s fault. *Closes Gospel book*

No. There’s more to it than that. Remember: who was with Eve? Adam was. And what mission did God give Adam? To care for everything in the Garden. This included Eve. Yes, Adam and Eve are equals, but God gave Adam the strength to care for Eve—knowing that there would be danger lurking about.

That danger came when the devil went after Eve—as the devil often does: attacking the woman. Adam was supposed to fight for his love, the one that was “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh!” But what did Adam do? Nothing. He was quiet. And when the husband, the man with the strength, is quiet and doesn’t use his strength to fight for the family, the wife gets anxious, she grasps for what she things will make her secure. “I’ve gotta have this,” she says. And the devil’s got her.

You see, when we love something, we have to fight for it. In our culture, we have divorced loving and fighting—people think love happens without a fight. That’s naïve. We’re going to have to fight if we are truly going to love.

That’s the point of the second reading. Through the disobedience of one man, Adam, sin entered the world (notice where Paul puts the blame: on Adam!). But through the obedience of the other man, Jesus, life entered the world and forgiveness (“acquittal”). In other words: whereas Adam did not fight the devil, Jesus did. Jesus fought for us. He fought for His bride. Jesus stood up to the temptation. And why? Because of love. Jesus loves His Father and He loves us. So Jesus fought for us. Forty days in the desert: fighting the pain of hunger, fighting the urge to give in, fighting against the devil himself. “The Lord is a warrior. The Lord is His name!” (Ex 15:3).

*          *          *

What does this mean for us? In Lent, we are invited to enter into the battle for love. We have opportunities for fasting, for sacrifice, for giving, for praying—and in all of that there is the choice, the battle, to fight for what and for whom we love. Just like Adam and Eve, God has given us this blessed time of Lent—just like that tree—so that we may choose between self-centeredness and self-sacrifice. To love or not to love.

There will be temptations in this, just like there are throughout the year. In these, perhaps it may be good to become like Mary, too—Mary who is the New Eve—who also does battle. Have you ever noticed how many statues of Mary have her stomping on the head of the serpent? That’s taking from Genesis 3:15, where the Scriptures prophesy how the Mother of God will crush the head of the serpent.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I have never tried to crush the head of a snake. I’d probably use a shovel. Mary is depicted using her bare feet. Which means that she is doing this quickly—you can’t crush the head of a snake daintily. Otherwise, you get bitten. Mary crushes the tempter quickly, with force! *bam!* That’s Jesus’ mother. That’s the one who taught Him from her lap. If the Lord is a warrior, I have a hunch that to some degree, His mother is, too. Kind, gentle, mild—yes. But when it comes to the devil, Mary’s not gonna have any of it.

That’s what we need to be this Lent and, really, whenever we face temptation.

Because, when the devil comes bartering for our soul, we must remember that there are only two outcomes: life or death, heaven or hell, good or evil. We can’t mess around with the devil. Think of it this way, if someone came to you saying, “Hey, do this for me—do this and I will pick a nice spot for you in hell. You know—with the fires and the grinding of teeth and the wailing and the anger and loneliness and stench.” Who among us would say, “Yeah, let me think about that for a moment… that kinda sounds like a good idea….” No! We would say, “You’re crazy! Get away from me!”

But, let’s be honest: when we entertain temptation, we are seriously pondering that this hell is a good idea. This is why sin is stupid. (That’s my definition—that’s not Magisterial…) Sin is stupid.

This is why the devil coats the evil with some kind of good. The devil, for the most part, doesn’t just simply come out and say “Deny Jesus. Deny Jesus and make me king.” No, the devil is more subtle. The devil will say something about how God understands, and that it isn’t so bad. Just a little bit of doubt.

We have to fight against this.

If we are not actively fighting against temptation, we will start buying the devil’s lies. If we are not crushing his head, then we will start to doubt. We will start to think that God is holding something back. And we’ll grow resentful and bitter—especially when we are told that we can’t do something. And we’ll grasp—we’ll make our own way—and we’ll rationalize it by saying that God doesn’t see, because God doesn’t love us. And then that becomes God doesn’t matter. And, then: God doesn’t exist. So, we’ll establish our own way. And we’ll make our own gods. And when those don’t fill us, we’ll make ourselves god.

Which is what the devil promised: “if you eat… you will become like gods.”

And therein is the greatest lie of all. Because we already were. We were already like gods. Adam and Eve were made so as to never die; they were eternal; they could love like the angels and share the mind and heart of God. A share of divinity had already been given them. But they doubted it. And so they lost it.

*          *          *

We have been given that share—we just have to receive! Which means we have to battle the urge to grasp. That urge to doubt and cry out: “Lord, why are you keeping this from me?” “Why can’t I have just this one thing? Just this once?” We sometimes make it a holy crusade: “Lord, all this time I served you and never did you give me this one thing…” (that’s the older brother of the Prodigal Son, by the way).

But we must believe that God is good. That He’s not holding anything back. If there would have been a greater gift that Jesus, God would have given it. But this is the greatest gift.

In fact, do you remember how many named trees there were in the Garden? There were two: The Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life. We’ve talked about the first one; what about the second? Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden before they could eat from the Tree of Life.

We, however, get to eat from this tree. The Tree is the Cross and the Fruit of this Tree of Life is Jesus. On the night before Jesus died, He gave us this fruit in the Eucharist—His body and blood, the Bread of Life (“whoever eats will live forever”). And that’s perfect when we think about it: Jesus undoes the first, the Original, Sin (which was accomplished by eating) by giving us something to eat: namely, Himself. His body and blood, soul and divinity, to be united to our body, blood, soul, and humanity—to elevate our humanity, by grace, to His divinity. In this way, we really do become “like gods.”

Do you see? Jesus has loved us to the end! He has held nothing back. He loves you! Come, let us love Him in return!

The Two Transformations - Homily for the 6th Sunday in OT (A)

Ok. Can we take a moment and pray about what we have just heard? I mean, I know that for many of us, Jesus’ words hit us right in the heart—and some of those words may have been hard to listen to or understand. And I think we just need to take a moment and pray and ask for the Holy Spirit to guide us here…

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In my life, I have come to realize that God is not simply in the business of getting people to “fall into line.” God is firstly in the business of transforming us. Let us never forget this: God is in the business of transforming us.

And I’ve found that there are two major kinds of transformation.

The first transformation that God wants for us is that transformation from being adrift in the world to being chosen— from being pagan to being religious—from being just like everyone else in the world to being His. This is why God gave the Commandments: He gave these to choose and to transform a people that would be His own. “This people,” He says through the Commandments, “This people will not be stealing and killing like the others out there. This people will not be marrying many wives or worshipping many gods like the pagans. This people will be different.” That’s what the Commandments do. This is the first transformation.

And I liken it to a kind of fence. I know many of you have seen the movie The Sandlot. It’s a story about kids that play baseball in this field—the sandlot—and there is an old wooden fence that separates this lot from the house next door—a house that has a mean dog called The Beast (very apropos!). So there is the Sandlot on one side of the fence and on the other side of the fence there’s the beast. The fence separates the play and fun and children from what is dangerous and menacing. In much the same way, the Law of God acted as the fence separating and thus initially transforming an otherwise ordinary people into the People of God.

Hence, Jesus upholds commandments like “you shall not kill” and “you shall not commit adultery.” Because that fence is still needed! Cultures—even historically Christian cultures like our own—forget these very basic truths. This is why Jesus doubles down saying, “whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do so will be called least in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever obeys and teaches these commandments will be called greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

So, keeping the law is important. That’s the first part of this Sermon on the Mountain.

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The second part reveals the second transformation: where our “righteousness [must surpass]… that of the Pharisees.” This second transformation is about being not simply a follower but a lover—specifically, a lover who loves as Christ loves.

What this means is that Jesus doesn’t simply want us to “not kill,” but He wants to have our hearts transformed in such a way that we avoid the beginnings of that—that anger and resentment and disdain for others. The new transformation—that of charity—is so important that Jesus says that “If you… recall [at the altar] that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there… and be reconciled with your brother and then come and offer your gift.” In other words, in this second transformation we see that we cannot approach the God of love at the altar when we refuse to love another. This why Catholics have the Sign of Peace. At the Sign of Peace, we are really supposed to reconcile with others such that, if there is someone that we are at odds with, we must first be reconciled with them before we can receive communion. Reconciliation before Communion. That’s how much God wants this transformation for us.

Notice, then, the next lesson in the Sermon on the Mount: Jesus continues: “You have heard that it was said, You shall not commit adultery. But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lust
has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Notice the need for transformation: Jesus doesn’t simply want us to “not commit adultery”—that is important—but He even wants our eyes and hearts transformed in such a way that when we see a beautiful person, we don’t lust over that person as though they were an object—because treating a person as an object is not love. Fifty Shades of Gray is not love. Pornography is not love.

And notice how much Jesus wants this second transformation for us: “If your eye causes you to sin… if your hand causes you to sin…” He says, get rid of it! It’s hyperbole, of course, but it is to prove a point: the transformation to charity is so important that it is worth losing even your limbs over.

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Now comes the sensitive part of Jesus’ Sermon. He says: "[In the past] It was also said, Whoever divorces his wife must give her a bill of divorce. But I say to you, whoever divorces his wife—unless the marriage is unlawful—causes her to commit adultery, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.”

What is going on here? Ironically, the Pharisees were allowing divorce because, as Jesus points out, “the hardness of their hearts.” I say this is ironic because our culture, when it sees a person upholding laws, the culture calls that person a Pharisee. So, for example, I’ve seen article after article calling Cardinal Burke a Pharisee for upholding the law of marriage. But such articles forget that Pharisees didn’t uphold marriage at all! This is the oddity of the Pharisees: they uphold certain laws, but not the divine ones—and even less do they live them out (as Jesus points out later). The Pharisees allowed divorce for pretty much whatever reason.

To call Cardinal Burke a Pharisee is therefore really rather ignorant. Our world is like the Pharisees. Many Christian ministers, for example, have become like our secular (read: oftentimes pagan) courts and allow divorce for whatever reason (Pharisaical), not remembering that “what God has joined, men must not divide.” They even go so far as to marry previously divorced people.

The papers write about how the Catholic Church is “opposed to divorce.” The reality is, we simply don’t have the power to undo what God has joined.

Clearly, we are dealing with the first transformation here: from the pagan to the People of God.

The question may be asked: then what about annulments? Obviously, this is a question that requires more than a homily to answer, but the principle for them is found in the Gospel when Jesus notes “unless the marriage is unlawful”—implied: an unlawful marriage is not joined by God; it is null. (Hence “annulment”).

When Jesus talks about a marriage being unlawful, it is understood that He is speaking about those who are going through the first transformation: that is, about pagans who have entered the Jewish faith but have three, four, or possibly even more wives. Anything beyond the first is unlawful. That’s what Jesus is talking about. Or when someone was forced to marry—that’s unlawful. The Catholic Church simply applies the principle Jesus gave. So, if someone enters into marriage with no intention of being faithful—then, yes, that could be a problem. But that’s different than someone “falling” out of love. The marriage is lawful—meaning, God has joined it—and man cannot divide that. Here, the second transformation is imperative: “love one another as I have loved you.”

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Here we arrive, then, at the primo problem of our culture. The problem is not only that our culture does not embrace the first transformation (law), but precisely because it no longer embraces law, it no longer understands love. Love, in our culture, is erroneously reconciled with killing an infant or an elderly person. But that’s not love!—we cannot both love and kill a person. Love, in our culture, is erroneously reconciled with disregarding the Sabbath (“I don’t need religion to love God”); and so on. The “love” that our culture passes off is a contradictory house built on sand.

This is why our Lord has come. This is why our culture needs a Cardinal Burke out there. For both law and love are united in Jesus. This Jesus who comes to transform us in both. Hence: “I have come not to abolish the law, but to fulfill” and “unless your righteousness exceeds that the of the Pharisees”—in sum “love one another as I have loved you” and “Blessed are they who follow the law of the Lord.”

So, we who struggle with sins against the law and against charity—it is for us that the Lord has come: “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” He wants to transform us. That’s His business. That’s His saving grace. And He is making that offer to you today.