Sparrows - 12th Sunday in OT (A)

You are worth more than many sparrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can I tell you something I have realized? 

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

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

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

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

You are worth more than many sparrows.

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

Corpus Christi, 2023

When I was little, I loved being at church. It was a delight to the senses. When the people said the creed, it reminded me of thunder. When the older priest spoke in his deep but calm voice, I thought it was the voice of God. And when the ministers gave out holy communion, I had this belief that as they gave out one host from their ciborium, another one host would appear in its place.

I guess you could say that I’ve always known that something special was happening here. And, as I grew older, and I would read passages from the Sixth Chapter of John or the Eleventh Chapter of Saint Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians, I would take Jesus and the Apostles at their word. I wasn’t eating bread. I was receiving Jesus’ body and blood. Even the crowds that disagreed with Him at least knew that Jesus was being serious about His words.

 

Yet, even with all of that faith, I never really understood why there was the Holy Mass. It seemed to me, firstly, that it was about the priest changing bread and wine into Jesus and us receiving Jesus. And that’s true. But, if that is all that the Mass is about, why can’t the priest just make a lot of Jesus and then just kind of have a Chick-fil-A drive thru distribution line to receive Jesus?

So I thought, ok-ok, maybe there is something more to Holy Mass. Maybe Mass is about receiving Jesus and …  being taught. And so the readings and the homily. But that conclusion was unsatisfactory as well because, well, the preachers weren’t really good at preaching. I could easily leave church without getting anything out of it.

This is all to say that, even with faith, I always felt that there was something more to the Mass than just listening and eating.

 

And then, one day, I found it. I found the key to understand what the Holy Mass is.

It’s found right in the middle of Mass. The priest says:

Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God the Almighty Father.

 And the people reply: 

May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands, for the praise and glory of His name, for our good and the good of all His Holy Church.           

At its very deepest, most essential level, the Holy Mass is a sacrifice. If we don’t understand that, we don’t understand the Mass. 

 

So, when the priest lifts up the host, he isn’t just showing it to everyone. He is lifting it up, offering Jesus, to the Father. 

The entire Triduum is present at the Mass. You have the Last Supper, where bread and wine are changed into Jesus. You have Good Friday, where Jesus offers Himself to the Father. And you have Easter Sunday in that, when you receive the Eucharist, you aren’t receiving a dead Jesus, you are receiving a living Jesus, in His glorified, resurrected body, a body which is hidden for now. 

The Holy Mass and the Holy Triduum are one and the same thing: they are both a Sacrifice of Jesus Christ, the High Priest, offered to the Father for our good and the good of all the Holy Church. 

 

This changed everything for me. Because, you see, I believed that God gave me everything. I believed that there was more to religion than just being taught something. I believed that there had to be a way that we could express the totality of our thanks and our sorrows, our hopes and our fears; a way to express our worship of the transcendent God and a way to express our utmost regret for sin; … 

And nothing-- no offering, no sacrifice of religion – could express that totality. That is, until I realized that our religion was offering Jesus, God, under the appearance of bread and wine, yet nevertheless present in His totality (body, blood, soul, and divinity) to the Father – Jesus, the only one who could express that totality and do so perfectly on my behalf and in a way that was acceptable to God the Almighty Father. That’s the sacrifice at our hands. 

That’s the definitive, perfect, and highest sacrifice God has given you and me to offer in praise and worship of Him. 

That’s the Holy Mass. 

And I believe that it matters to God. Even more than a child's work of art matters to a parent that places that child's art on the fridge. Sacrifices matter to God. It's why the First Holy Mass, given at the Last Supper, came with a holy command: Do this.

In the Octave of Pentecost ... (2023)

As we venture past the Easter Season, the Gospels this week have been rather striking to me; for the past three weeks, we have been walking with Jesus from the Upper Room and into Gethsemane, listening to Him, hearing His prayer -- but now we see Him doing miracles. And that is rather striking. We are reminded of how His public ministry began: at His baptism in the Jordan, the Holy Spirit descended upon Him, not because Jesus needed the Holy Spirit, but for our benefit: that we would know the Holy Spirit was with Him. Shortly thereafter, he arrives in His hometown, Nazareth, where He enters the synagogue, and pulls a scroll from Isaiah which says, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed me, to bring glad tiding to the poor ... and to announce a year of favor for the Lord."

Jesus brings the Holy Spirit with Him and it is by the power of the Holy Spirit that He cures such people as Bartimaeus. It is the Holy Spirit who accompanies Mary at the Visitation. And Elizabeth, when she hears Mary's greeting, is also filled with the Holy Spirit. John the baptism, still in her womb, is sanctified by the Holy Spirit. And Mary and Elizabeth, seeing what the Holy Spirit has been doing in their lives (see the pregnant bump!), rejoice in the Holy Spirit.

In former days, we used to have what was called an Octave of Pentecost. It was one of the mini-seasons like the Triduum, or the days before Christmas (which we call the days of the O Antiphons). We have the twelve days of Christmas and the Octave of Easter. The Church, in Her wisdom, once had eight days -- an octave -- celebrating the gift of the Holy Spirit and the gifts which He brings (much like celebrating the gifts Jesus brings at Christmas). But whereas at Christmas we celebrated the coming of the Second Person of the Trinity, here we celebrate the Advent of the Third.

In former days, too, the Sundays after Pentecost were not numbered as, for example, the Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time. Rather, it would be the First Sunday after Pentecost (Trinity Sunday). Every Sunday was numbered in relation to Pentecost. The Second Sunday after Pentecost, the Third, and so on. 

The Church understood that we lived in the days of the Holy Spirit -- the Spirit who comes not simply to save, but to sanctify. It is by His power that we can become holy, saints (from the Latin: sanctus, meaning holy). It is by His power that martyrs can give witness to Jesus unto death and receive the crown of glory (as we see in the case of St. Justin -- a contemporary of Saint John, the Beloved Apostle).

It is important, then, that we do not simply go from Easter to Ordinary Time -- as if these days were Ordinary. They are full with the power of the Holy Spirit! -- the Spirit of Truth, which sets us free. The Spirit that convicts us of sin and which pours through the Church's priests in the power of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Well before the Second Vatican Council and the liturgical changes that happened after it, the Church was already battling a kind of iconoclasm -- that is, the destruction of images and symbols.

Images and symbols are important. Destroy them and you hurt the faith of those who see what the symbols represent. And, beyond that, destroy the faith and you destroy the community. Case in point: if we saw the destruction of the American Flag (and there are many these days who would do it), that destruction of the symbol of our country would destroy and would be an indicator of the destruction of the ground on which this country has been built; as a result, there would also be a ripping apart of the country. Communities and faith are built upon the symbolic. So when the symbolic is lost, so is the community of faith.

It is one of the reasons why we have emptier pews that years past. The solution is not found in fancy programs or strategic initiatives -- as necessary as they are to prune the vine so as to produce more fruit. Rather, the solution is found in the recovery of the symbolic.

Take, for example, the Easter Candle. One of the coolest things I have seen in our Holy Mass was, when I was celebrating the Solemnity of the Ascension in the ancient use. During the Gospel, as the Deacon proclaimed that Jesus ascended into heaven, a server came to the Easter candle and extinguished it.

The natural question was: why did this happen?

The symbol of the extinguished candle was clear: Jesus is the light of the world. And that the Ascension, that light was taken away.

And it would forever be taken away -- unless, and until the moment that, the Holy Spirit came upon the Apostles as tongues of fire, relighting the candle, casting fire upon the earth.

I found that awesome.

We did lose something when we took away the symbolic numbering of Sundays in relation to Pentecost and turned them into days of "Ordinary Time." 

Ordinary. It is about as inspiring as a white-washed protestant church.

And that's the problem. Can we be surprised at a loss of faith and the community when we describe our religion and our time as ordinary? Catholic Churches are known for their sacred art, their smells, their bells, their vestments. There is nothing ordinary about them. 

Strangely, they manifest to the senses the Incarnational reality that God, who is spirit, became flesh. The senses are important. And the Holy Spirit came upon the flesh and its senses at Pentecost -- elevated them, sanctified them, and everything about them: the people, the place, and the time.

These are the days of the power of the Holy Spirit, God, the Third Person of the Trinity. To Him be all glory forever. Amen.

The Comforter, the Best - Pentecost 2023

A very blessed Pentecost Sunday to you!

I have a question for you that I want you to walk around in this week. The question is this: 

Where do you find your comfort?

What gives you peace? and rest? ... that place where things make sense and everything is going to be ok? Where do you find your comfort?

+

Many years ago, in my first summer as a priest, it seemed like for a solid week I was plagued by the desire to go swing dancing. I had enjoyed swing dancing when I was in high school and college, but those days were past. I was a priest and I felt that going swing dancing (with a woman) was now inappropriate. Nevertheless, the distractions in prayer came. It was uncomfortable. And so I said to Jesus, "Here is what is distracting me. Please turn it into grace for whoever needs it."

Later that week, I had an older gentleman knock on the door to the rectory. He was in his late 70s and looked downcast.. He said, "Father, will you hear my confession?" Absolutely. "Father," he said, it's been 70 years since my last confession." I was floored.

Now, I can't tell you his sins because of the Seal of Confession (and, also, because I don't remember them). But I do remember and I can tell you that, after he confessed his sins and I gave him absolution, his shoulders relaxed and his face grew brighter. 

Lord, send out your Spirit. And renew the face of the earth.

The man's face had joy written all over it. He had been renewed. And comforted.

As he departed, I noticed he was wearing a pin on his lapel. I asked him what it was. "Oh, he said, that was a gift from my students. I was a dance instructor."

Now it was my turn to be comforted: I realized why I had suffered. It was for him. -- And what a comfort it is to see the will of God playing out right before my very eyes!

+

One of the titles for the Holy Spirit is the Comforter, the Best. We sang this in our opening hymn, "Come Holy Ghost" and in the Sequence.

When things make sense, and when there is the tranquility of order (which is the very stuff of peace), we experience comfort. This is what the Holy Spirit brings.

And note carefully when Jesus gives the Holy Spirit. Yes, at Pentecost. But He also gives the Holy Spirit on Easter Sunday, in the evening, when the Apostles are in the Upper Room. They had abandoned Jesus and were afraid -- not only of the Jews, but also of His return; for, if He was the Messiah, they had indeed left Him. What would He do?

And so Jesus says, "Peace be with you." He breathes on them (the Latin word for breath is "spiritus"; respire; inspire; Spirit) and He forgives them.

What a comfort!

+

There is also another time when Jesus gives the Holy Spirit. 

When He is on the Cross, He says many things: "I thirst," and "Father forgive them..." And then, when He breathes (spiritus) His last, He hands over His Spirit.

There is something important going on here -- a connection between the Cross and the Spirit. He is showing the power of the Cross -- that when we offer our suffering to the Father, in the Spirit, for the redemption of the world, that spiritual prayer of suffering is heard and is powerful.

It renews the face of the earth.

I tell my homebound and the infirm in hospitals: "You are sitting on a winning lottery ticket. You just need to cash it in." Tell Jesus, "Jesus, here is my suffering. I give it to you. Turn it into grace for someone out there."

I tell the homebound that they are like monks in monasteries -- when they make such a prayer, they will give birth to many vocations.

I tell the infirm in hospitals that they are there not only to get well, but also to pray for all of those who are also in the hospital -- "all of those other people don't know it, but you can bring all of them to heaven!"

And what a comfort it is to hear these words! -- to know that our Cross is not simply to be carried or endured, but that it has power! It can be an offering that renews the face of the earth!

Ah, the Comforter, the Best!

+

When God the Father created Adam, He breathed (spiritus) into his nostrils and gave Adam the Breath of Life.

Receive the Holy Spirit! Breathe Him in.

And yes, Adam -- like all of us -- was faced with danger and challenges. The New Adam, Jesus, faced the Cross. It was uncomfortable.

In our own day, we face a lot of discomforts. And the temptation is to seek comfort in other spirits -- literally, in liquid spirits, or in the spirit of lust, the spirit of greed, the spirit of the world, really -- and none of them really comfort us.

Jesus, for His part, was quite uncomfortable when He looked over Jerusalem and said, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! If only you knew what would make for peace" -- peace! comfort! -- "But you would have it not."

And what did Jesus do then? He wept. He mourned.

Do you remember the Beatitudes -- Blessed are the poor in spirit, the meek and so on? ... One of the Beatitudes is "Blessed are they who mourn..."

Do you remember what Jesus promises those who mourn?

You will be comforted.

+

Those who are comfortable in the world do not need The Comforter. 

But to those who carry the Cross for the sake of the world's salvation, for true peace, they will need the Comforter. We long for Him.

+

So, I conclude where I began, with a question: What brings you comfort?

Pray now to receive the Holy Spirit once again, who renews us, who brings meaning to our suffering, who brings us peace. 

He is the Comforter, the Best.

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

Homily for Father Deters' First Holy Mass

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

On the night before He died, when Jesus at the Last Supper inaugurated the Most Holy Eucharist, that is, when He offered The First Holy Mass, He turned to His Apostles and said to them "No longer do I call you servants… but I have called you friends…" (Jn 15:15). 

Father Deters -- and it is so wonderful to call you that! -- Our Lord Jesus says these same words to you today: “No longer do I call you a servant. I call you my friend.” And since you are my friend, I entrust everything to you. I entrust myself to you. I even wait for your words – I wait for you to say the words of consecration that I said at the Last Supper – and only when you say them will I, Jesus, change the bread and wine into my body and blood. 

Who can behold such a gift? Who can behold such a mystery? ... that we literally hold Jesus as He comes into our hands....

+ 

Many years ago, when you were in my RCIA class at St. Joseph in Cottleville, it was evident that God was discipling you, calling you to be one of His close friends. Your desire for knowledge was only eclipsed by your desire to beat me at soccer. I knew something was up not only because of your drive for excellence and holiness, but also because you had what seemed to be an insatiable thirst for wisdom and knowledge and understanding -- gifts of the Holy Spirit whom we celebrate on this Pentecost day. ... And when you found the wellspring of salvation, you drank it in. 

It was truly beautiful to see. 

If you get to teach RCIA at St. Joe’s, I hope that someday you will be able to experience the joy that I am experiencing now: of seeing one of your students offering his first Holy Mass. Through this grace, Jesus has drawn me deeper into His friendship because of this. I thank you for that. 

Goodness, the priesthood is such a gift and such a mystery.

 +

 In his Chrism Mass Homily to priests many years ago (2006), Pope Benedict once said, “This is the profound meaning of being a priest:  becoming the friend of Jesus Christ. […] Being a friend of Jesus, being a priest, means being a man of prayer. In this way we recognize Him and emerge from the ignorance of simple servants.” 

We emerge from the ignorance of simple servants.

 Jesus does not give the power to command Him to change bread and wine – to mere servants. Jesus does not give to just anyone the power to forgive in His almighty name. Jesus does not give to just an ordinary passer-by the grace of seeing His plan unfold in students becoming Fathers. He gives these graces – and so, so many more— to His friends.

 + 

If I may, one friend to another, a word: when you elevate the host at this Holy Mass and at every Holy Mass, take your time. Adore the Lord who has given you everything. And Lift Him to the Father in thanksgiving for the greatest gift you could ever receive. 

Too often, priests rush this moment because they are just servants, just working. The Holy Mass is just another job, just another thing to do in the day -- instead of the entire source and summit of their priesthood, The Reason why they were chosen and called friends. 

You will notice that everyone is so moved when a priest offers his First Mass. We are moved because we see you in love with our Friend in the Eucharist. Show us always that you are in love with our friend.

 + 

To this end, the Holy Catholic Church, in Her two thousand years of wisdom and experience, provides you with a prayer to remind you of the importance of your priesthood. Right before the Domine, non sum dignus (Lord, I am not worthy), you will pray the following words – you say in a whisper: 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who by the will of the Father and the work of the Holy Spirit, through your Death gave life to the world, free me by this, your most holy Body and Blood, from all my sins and from every evil; keep me always faithful to your commandments, and never let me be parted from you.

 Never let me be parted from you. 

The people of God never hear that prayer. And they do not hear it because it is the last quiet moment you have with Jesus before you receive Him. An intimate moment between friends. It is such an important prayer, because there is so much in the world that could separate us from Him, so many wolves that we shepherds must face. 

So open your lion-hearted soul. Speak friend and enter – And then show us, tell us to Behold the Lamb of God, encourage us to open our hearts to the one who is worth dying for, the Lamb who died for us and gave us everything – including you, His priest in the line of Melchizedek.

 +

 I thank God for your priesthood, Father Deters. And I thank you for bringing us Jesus today.

 May He prove Himself your friend forever. And may you never be parted from Him.

 +

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