23rd Sunday of Ordinary Time 2025 - The cost of discipleship...and what is gained

 

From now to the end of the liturgical year, our second readings will take us through each of St. Paul’s letters to individuals. So, starting today with St. Paul’s shortest letter, the one-chapter epistle to Philemon, over the next few weeks until Advent, we’ll then read from the apostle’s letters to St. Timothy and finally St. Titus. Today is the only day in the three-year cycle of readings that we read from Paul’s letter to Philemon. So, we should spend some time with it, shouldn’t we?

Around the year 60, Paul was arrested and imprisoned in Rome. Imprisoned with Paul was a slave who had been arrested for running away from his Master. The slave’s name was Onesimus. Imprisoned together, Paul got to know Onesimus; he shared the Gospel with him, baptized him, and formed him in the Christian Way. When Onesimus’ prison sentence had concluded, he was to return to his master, named Philemon, to whom Paul composed the letter we read from today. In this letter, Paul urged Philemon, who himself was a Christian, to free Onesimus from his bond of slavery, and allow Onesimus to return to Rome to assist Paul in his ministry.

This 2000 year old letter is an important testimony to the Christian belief in the equal human dignity of all persons—and the equality and unity of the baptized. 

According to the law of the land, Onesimus was Philemon’s legal possession. But, Paul urged Philemon to recognize that Onesimus was more than a possession, he was a brother. “Do what is proper” Paul urged Philemon: release him.

Now, consider what Paul was asking Philemon to do. Paul was urging Philemon to change his way of thinking and to give up something that he valued. Paul’s request was going to cost Philemon something. Philemon would have to change his lifestyle, change his household, change the way his family operated. Philemon no doubt relied on people like Onesimus. And now Paul was asking him to give something up that he relied on—to sacrifice comfort, societal norms, and his own preferences for the sake of the Gospel and because it was the right thing to do.

Paul knew that this request was going to be difficult—and costly to Philemon—but Paul made this request because it was the right thing to do.

In the Gospel this weekend the Lord speaks of how following him is costly to us--the cost of discipleship. Unless you give up family, you cannot be my disciple. Unless you carry the cross, you cannot be my disciple. Unless you renounce all of your possessions, you cannot be my disciple.

Discipleship has a cost—a cost from each of us. No one can pay it for you. It’s yours. Your responsibility. Your sacrifice. 

This is a hard message for us. Just like it was a hard message when Jesus taught it back then. St. Luke tells us in today’s passage that great crowds were following Jesus. A great number of people were with him. Moms and dads and kids and grandparents all walking together.

But then Jesus turns around and faces them, and addresses these moms and dads and kids and grandparents and says, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.”

This crowd of families just like you were walking with Jesus, but he says, if you want to follow me any further, if you want to follow me to my ultimate destination, it’s going to cost you something, something dearly. Your loyalty to family needs to come second, from here on out. Oh, by the way, your very life too, your impulse of self-preservation. You have to be willing to embrace the cross, to endure crucifixion—suffering and death. 

At this point in St. Luke’s Gospel, Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem. He was walking toward Jerusalem, on a sort of death march toward his Passion. And did any of these people end up following him there? Were any of them crucified with him on Calvary? Nobody, except two thieves. Not anyone from this great crowd, not his most beloved disciple. Some stood and watched and wept. But Jesus went alone, where fallen humanity was too fearful to go.

It’s not until after his resurrection when it finally clicked for us—when we understood--when the courage to follow Him unto death was truly bestowed upon us. 

Why should I give-up family loyalty and material wealth in order to follow him? Because it leads to resurrection and life everlasting. We don’t lose hope and turn away from God when we are presented with our crosses because we know God brings about tremendous good through them. Joy and life and profound transformation are discovered when we are faithful. When we go beyond our comfort zones to engage in the works of charity and to share the Gospel, when we resist temptation and willingly do penance—lives are transformed—minds and heart are filled with glory and light. We see it over and over in the lives of the saints.  St. Clare, left the luxury and wealth of her home, she left her family, despite their opposition, in order to devote her life to Jesus through radical poverty, like that of St. Francis. 

Ordinary people—transformed—filled with glory—because they were willing to follow Jesus when it cost them something. 

If the practice of the faith isn’t currently costing you something, you might not be heading in the direction the Lord is trying to lead you. And if that’s the case, pray for courage, pray for strength, ask him to help you, ask him to lead you where you are to fearful to go, if it be the will of God.

Because when you trust him, and follow him beyond your wants and fears and ingrained habits and prejudices and plans for your life, you will gain so much more: freedom, joy, blessing and life everlasting for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

6th Week of Easter 2024 - Tuesday - Evangelical suffering

 Even when we are trying to do the tasks that God gives us without calling attention to ourselves, we may be unfairly treated. 

When St. Paul performed an exorcism in Philippi, he and Silas were arrested, beaten, and thrown in jail. 

But notice how the story from the Acts of the Apostles led to the conversion of the jailor. Tied to a stake in the innermost prison cell, they sang hymns and taught about Jesus. Even when Christians experience injustice at the hands of unbelievers, God can bring good out of the sufferings we endure. 

Keeping the faith when those sufferings come our way is not easy. Praising God while suffering injustice is the last thing most people would do. But when we are animated by faith and the desire to save souls those injustices are transformed into opportunities to build the kingdom of God. 

Now Paul and Silas were eventually freed from prison in Philip and continued to sew the seeds of the Gospel there before moving on to Thessalonica and Athens.

Five years later, Paul writes to the Christians in Philip in his famous letter to the Philippians. And in his opening address he writes to them, “I give thanks to my God at every remembrance of you…I want you to know, brothers, that my situation has turned out rather to advance the gospel, so that my imprisonment has become well known in Christ throughout the whole praetorium and to all the rest”

Paul looked back on his time in Philippi, including his imprisonment, with gratitude because he had used his time for God. We never regret the time we give to God, even the times when we suffer. For Paul's suffering, faithfully endured, became evangelical, an instrument of the Gospel.

But so often, we have the intention of doing something good, but we get a small glimpse of potential suffering and discomfort, and we run away, and decide to spend the time on ourselves, on something easier—but ultimately less fulfilling—and we are unhappier for it.

Rather, let us take to heart Paul’s injunction to the Philippians, when he says, “conduct yourselves in a way worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear news of you, that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind struggling together for the faith of the gospel, not intimidated in any way by your opponents.”

 May news of our faithful conduct, our works of charity, our efforts for the Gospel resound for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

Even when we are trying to do the tasks that God gives us without calling attention to ourselves, we may be unfairly treated.

When St. Paul performed an exorcism in Philippi, he and Silas were arrested, beaten, and thrown in jail.

But notice how the story from the Acts of the Apostles led to the conversion of the jailor. Tied to a stake in the innermost prison cell, they sang hymns and taught about Jesus. Even when Christians experience injustice at the hands of unbelievers, God can bring good out of the sufferings we endure.

Keeping the faith when those sufferings come our way is not easy. Praising God while suffering injustice is the last thing most people would do. But when we are animated by faith and the desire to save souls those injustices are transformed into opportunities to build the kingdom of God.

Now Paul and Silas were eventually freed from prison in Philip and continued to sew the seeds of the Gospel there before moving on to Thessalonica and Athens.

Five years later, Paul writes to the Christians in Philip in his famous letter to the Philippians. And in his opening address he writes to them, “I give thanks to my God at every remembrance of you…I want you to know, brothers, that my situation has turned out rather to advance the gospel, so that my imprisonment has become well known in Christ throughout the whole praetorium and to all the rest”

Paul looked back on his time in Philippi, including his imprisonment, with gratitude because he had used his time for God. We never regret the time we give to God, even the times when we suffer.

But so often, we have the intention of doing something good, but we get a small glimpse of potential suffering and discomfort, and we run away, and decide to spend the time on ourselves, on something easier—but ultimately less fulfilling—and we are unhappier for it.

Rather, let us take to heart Paul’s injunction to the Philippians, when he says, “conduct yourselves in a way worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear news of you, that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind struggling together for the faith of the gospel, not intimidated in any way by your opponents.”

 May news of our faithful conduct, our works of charity, our efforts for the Gospel resound for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

3rd Sunday of Advent 2023 - Encountering God in the messiness

 Throughout the season of Advent, we read from the book of the prophet Isaiah. As I mentioned last week, the book of the prophet Isaiah is divided into two parts. In the first 39 chapters of Isaiah, the prophet helps Israel come to terms with the terrible consequences of their unfaithfulness to God. For unfaithfulness had brought great ruin, societal chaos and division to Israel. Israel had failed to uphold the ways of the Lord; they had failed to teach their children to walk in the ways of the Lord, which led to being captured and marched into exile by the Babylonians. 

Sin causes us to lose the things we love. Sin wounds us, it separates us from goodness, harmony, beauty, truth and life itself—the wages of sin are death. Families become divided because of sin, sin turns man against his brother, nations are divided. Sin has ripple effects that can impact generations and it deprives us of peace. Minds and hearts are warped, perverted, and corrupted by sin. Sin—faithlessness—brings depression, confusion, and self-destruction.

And the prophet explains how Israel has brought misery upon herself, so she can acknowledge her mistakes and turn back to the covenant.

But then, in chapter 40, the book of Isaiah takes a turn. And Isaiah announces some very good news. Even though Israel has been unfaithful, God is going to do something great. So get ready, prepare ye the way of the Lord, the time of exile is coming to an end. God is near.

And in that last half of Isaiah, we are presented with a series of prophecies describing a mysterious “servant of the Lord”. God isn’t just going to do something great. He’s going to send someone great. An instrument of God who will fulfill God’s will to bring salvation to his people, who will say  “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord has anointed me…to bring glad tidings to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives, and release to prisoners.” 

Advent of course prepares us to celebrate the birth of God’s servant, his anointed one, his Christ, on Christmas. God has entered into history and brought salvation. But he also wishes to enter into each of our lives particularly, with his healing salve. Advent calls us to open our lives to God to break into the poverty and brokenheartedness, and capitivity, and imprisonment into the messy details of our lives with healing, peace, and spiritual freedom.

Five years ago already, our previous bishop, Bishop Perez celebrated a Christmas Mass for the inmates at the Cuyahoga County Jail. And he shared a little reflection on the Christmas story. He noted that the Christ—the anointed servant of the Father—the savior was not born into idyllic circumstances, but into cold, dirty cave—into a “real mess” the Bishop said. A world with slavery, and abuse, and tyranny, and abject poverty, heartache, abhorrent perversions—a real mess. 

And Bishop Perez likened the situation of the Holy Family on Christmas to some of the prisoner’s situations, a “real mess”—where the consequences of sin were evident and felt.  But the Christmas message proclaims that it is precisely into the real mess of our lives that the Christ Child desires to be born: into the messiness, into the challenges and hardships, into the illnesses and financial concerns, into the addictions and family divisions, and injustices beyond our control.  And the Bishop prayed for those inmates, he said, “As you confront what you are confronting, may you come face-to-face with the Christ Child.”

Again, Advent is about opening your life, your mind and heart to encounter God more deeply and to allow God to “do his thing” in the messy details of your life. But that involves a choice. If you want to resist God, God isn’t going to force you to have a joyful Christmas. If you want to remain in sin and addiction and the misery that comes from sin, that’s up to you. But if you get serious about welcoming God, there can be joy, there can be healing to your brokenheartedness, and spiritual freedom.

This week the Church celebrated the feast of a saint who was imprisoned. On Thursday, we celebrated St. John of the Cross. John of the Cross was a Carmelite priest who was imprisoned, starved, and publicly flogged by his own religious community, but not for committing a crime. His own religious brothers imprisoned John for attempting to reform his community, as it had greatly deviated from its rules and statutes. The community had abandoned the austerity, poverty, and discipline called for by the Carmelite Rule. And when John called for reform, he was silenced and imprisoned—talk about a mess!  Some people—even consecrated religious don’t like to be told that they are not being faithful to God!

And in prison St. John experienced the cross quite acutely: isolation, starvation, cruelty at the hands of his brothers. But, he did not blame God for his situation; he did not become bitter because of the injustice. His sufferings did not diminish his desire for holiness. Rather, his desire for union with God increased. He passed the time reflecting on the Scriptures which he had memorized. And he composed some of the most beautiful mystical poetry outside of scripture—which exists to this day. 

In the darkness of the prison, John blossomed into a great mystical poet and theologian, and even enjoyed a depth of prayer that could be described as ecstatic. In the dark dank prison cell, he opened his heart to God, and met God in the absolute mess of his life. And because he allowed himself to experience God in prison, he was made free. St. John has been declared a doctor of the church because he has so much to teach us about seeking God prayerfully in the concrete messy details, in the crosses of our lives. 

We, present here today, are not imprisoned, like the inmates of the County Prison or like St. John of the cross, but there’s likely a measure of messiness to each of our lives. Perhaps you feel imprisoned by circumstances beyond your control. And again, Advent calls us to identify them, and to seek to meet God in them. 

This touches upon what St. Paul instructs us in our second reading today. In our second reading, St. Paul gives us some of the most difficult instructions in the Bible. He says, Rejoice in the Lord always, In all circumstances give thanks. Really Paul? Always? Even in prison? Unemployment? Marital difficulties? Even when I seem to be failing at all life’s demands? And Paul says, Always. For when we learn to encounter God always, we learn to rejoice always. And remember Paul wrote those words, just a few years before he himself would be imprisoned in Rome because of his preaching of the Gospel of Christ.

Joy comes from knowing the Lord God and experiencing his nearness in the messiness, even in the sufferings, especially in the sufferings of our lives. Having a real, living relationship with God enables even the Christian imprisoned to be freer and more joyful than any atheist surrounded by worldly treasures. 

If you’ve been experiencing joylessness this Advent, be honest about the messiness of your life with God, and invite God more deeply into the messiness. The experience of His nearness will heal deep wounds when you let Him and rekindle joy you thought lost for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

December 14 2021 - St. John of the Cross - "O night more loving than the rising sun"

 In the course of the Christian life, there are times when the brightness of God’s closeness sustains us and strengthens us—when it is easy to pray and a delight to pray—when God’s will is relatively easy to discern and follow, when God’s presence is unobscured by our anxieties. But there are also times in the spiritual life—in the Christian life—of inevitable dryness, where the God seems far away, distant, even absent.  

Today’s Saint St. John of the Cross understood darkness. After joining the Carmelites, it became clear that many of his brother monks were not all that interested in prayer, penance, and spiritual growth. They became so annoyed with John that they imprisoned him in a tiny cell.

John took advantage of the darkness and the quiet and the solitude of imprisonment to seek Christ, and composed some of the most beautiful mystical poetry in history. 

And though I suffer darknesses
in this mortal life,
that is not so hard a thing;
for even if I have no light
I have the life of heaven.
For the blinder love is
the more it gives such life,
holding the soul surrendered,
living without light in darkness.

For when once the will
is touched by God himself,
it cannot find contentment
except in the Divinity;
but since his Beauty is open
to faith alone, the will
tastes him…which is so gladly found.

What a wonderful saint to honor and imitate during Advent. For during Advent when practice a sort of spiritual solidarity with Ancient Israel, waiting and longing for Christ in the darkness. For centuries, many thought that God had abandoned his people. The faithful remnant, kept the hope allowed, continued to pray and meditate on the Scriptures and the promises of the Messiah.

St. John of the Cross helps us to look for God in our own experience of darkness and isolation. When God seems distant, when hardships grow great, when the brokenness of the world seems beyond repair, when so many seem to be falling away from the Church, instead of losing hope, we must recommit to seeking God in the darkness. God in fact allows us to undergo spiritual darkness, spiritual trial, that our faith, hope, and love may be grow. 

For spiritual night can lead to an ever deeper experience of God; as John of the Cross wrote, “O night, that was more loving than the rising sun, o night, which joined the lover, to the beloved one” for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

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We raise up our prayers of petitions, as we await with longing the Advent of Christ the Lord.

That through self-denial and embrace of the cross the Christian people may experience ever-deeper union with Christ this Advent.

For the members of the Carmelite Order, that their life of prayer and penance will be for the Church a source of renewal and strength.

For an increase in vocations to the priesthood and religious life and a strengthening of all marriages in holiness.

That Christ may banish disease, drive out hunger, ward off every affliction, and strengthen all who suffer persecution for the sake of the Gospel. And in a special way we pray for all victims of natural disaster and adverse weather, especially the victims of the recent tornados in our country.

For all who have died, and for all the poor souls in purgatory, and for X. for whom this Mass is offered.

Incline your merciful ear to our prayers, we ask, O Lord, and listen in kindness to the supplications of those who call on you. Through Christ our Lord.

December 14 2018 - St. John of the Cross - Advent self-denial

John was a reformer, mystic poet, and theologian priest. He was ordained a Carmelite priest in 1567 at the age of 25. John noticed that his brother Carmelites had strayed from the primitive Carmelite rule, which stressed poverty, austerity, and discipline. And so he resolved to bring reform to his order, calling his community back to its original intent. His efforts however were met with increasing opposition, misunderstanding, persecution, and eventually imprisonment. His own religious brothers imprisoned him within the monastery in a cell 10 foot by 6 foot, barely big enough for his own body. He was also regularly flogged in front of his community.

There, in the darkness, John prayed, uniting his own suffering with that of our savior. He would spend his hours reciting scripture and composing poetry for God. Though he suffered physically, his interior life began to bloom, and he laid the foundation what would become some of the most beautiful mystical poetry in our Church’s tradition, his books and poems with titles like “The Ascent of Mount Carmel, The Dark Night of the Soul, the Spiritual Canticle, and the Living Flame of Love.”

His poems contain timeless lessons for discipleship, and highlight the great Gospel paradox: the cross leads to resurrection, agony to ecstasy, darkness to light, abandonment to possession, denial of self to union with God.

During the last years of his life, after escaping imprisonment, John traveled throughout Spain, establishing new houses of prayer, many which endure to this day.

Another wonderful Advent saint. Who teaches us to practice penance, prayer, solitude and reflection, as the way to perfection, to open our hearts to the joy, communion, light, and peace God desires for each of us.

We are challenged by the mystics to examine our prayer lives.  Do we willingly go into the dark cell to encounter God? Do we put away all attachments that we may come to possess Him? Do we embrace the cross or shy away from it?  For as John writes in his Spiritual Canticle: “the gate that gives entrance to the riches of God’s wisdom is the cross.”

May this Advent help us to love the cross and thereby come to love and imitate more closely the One who suffered and died upon it out of love for us, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.
 
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We raise up our prayers of petitions, as we await with longing the Advent of Christ the Lord.
That through self-denial and embrace of the cross the Christian people may experience ever-deeper union with Christ and a more faithful proclamation of the Gospel.

For the members of the Carmelite Order, that their life of prayer and penance will be for the Church a source of renewal and strength.

For an increase in vocations to the priesthood and religious life and a strengthening of all marriages in holiness.

That Christ may banish disease, drive out hunger, ward off every affliction, and strengthen all who suffer persecution for the sake of the Gospel.

For all who have died, and for all the poor souls in purgatory, and for X. for whom this Mass is offered.

Incline your merciful ear to our prayers, we ask, O Lord, and listen in kindness to the supplications of those who call on you. Through Christ our Lord.