30th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2022 - Taking Risks for God and Spiritual Growth

 

One year, for my new year’s resolution, I attempted to learn how to play the violin. I grew up playing a little bit of piano and trumpet, and sang in the choir in high school and in seminary; so I was pretty familiar with reading music, and figured, how hard could the violin really be? So I got a hold of a violin, and realized pretty quickly that if I was going to progress in this instrument, I was going to need to take some lessons: I didn’t even know if I was holding the thing correctly.

And I have to admit, those first few violin lessons, were very humbling. I admitted to my violin teacher that I was a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed: a grown adult, a priest, several college degrees, and I could barely get through “Mary Had a Little Lamb” without the violin sounding like I was torturing some poor animal. 

After several months there was some progression and discerned that I had fulfilled my new year’s resolution. But, I really have to admit, those first few weeks, were very humbling, and very uncomfortable. The violin didn’t care about my degrees, about the time I spent visiting the sick, or teaching in the classroom. And to sit with this professional violin player was kind of embarrassing. I felt like a little child. 

But, I’m so glad I risked a little embarrassment, because now I can pick up the violin every now and then—one of my favorite musical instruments—and enjoy playing it a bit.

You may have had a similar experience: learning a new skill always involves that initial moment when you feel a bit like a child. But that’s not a bad thing: children are often much more courageous than adults. They don’t worry about what people think of them, they just engage. They’ll try new things because they look fun. They play without self-regard. They quickly make new friends—they are able to do things that many adults would be humiliated over doing—but that’s the key to their joy isn’t it…not fearing humiliation.

Would we honor Saint Francis of Assisi, if he had allowed his fears of what others thought of him to control his life? If he worried about being considered “overly religious”? Or St. Paul, what if he had allowed his fear of offending the sensibilities of the Gentiles keep him from his missionary journeys. Or Saint Clare? What if she let social pressures keep her from leaving behind her family wealth to pursue radical holiness. So many of the great Saints risk humiliation, they risk failure, they risk mockery, in order to pursue true greatness.

Many of our young people do not consider entering the religious life or going to the seminary. “What will they think of me if I joined the monastery.” But, in the Christian life, each one of us absolutely needs to ask ourselves: do I want to be great in the eyes of the world, or in the eyes of God?

I pray that fear—fear of being considered “overly religious” or—is not keeping anyone here from become more active in the life of holiness and the life of the parish. The parish needs your creativity, the parish needs your efforts and your mistakes, the Church needs your Courage. 

In today’s Gospel of the Pharisee and the tax collector, Jesus praises the child-like humility of the tax collector while denouncing the arrogance of the Pharisee. 

Here are two men, both go to Temple, both go to church, both engage in something they call prayer, but one is pleasing in the eyes of God and one is not. 

There is a parallel here with Cain and Abel. Remember, all the way back in the beginning of Genesis: both Cain and Abel offer sacrifices to God, but only Abel’s sacrifice was found pleasing to God, while Cain’s was not. For Abel’s sacrifice was filled with faith and love, while Cain’s was not.

Similarly with the Pharisee: his prayer in the Gospel today is filled with self-congratulation and ridicule of those he judges as lower than himself, while the tax-collector, becomes childlike and takes the lowest place, recognizing that before God he is but a humble sinner and only God can save Him. 

The Pharisee acts as if the point of prayer is to talk about how great he is, instead of approaching God, humbly like the tax collector to recognize how great God is. 

The tax collector thus teaches us an indispensable lesson for the Christian life: we must start off each day beating our breast, saying, “God, I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m just a lowly sinner. Teach me. Teach me how to pray. Teach me how to live.” 

Notice, too that, the tax collector beats his breast, as he says “O God, be merciful to me a sinner”. Be merciful to me. Have mercy. We say those words at the beginning of every Mass. Lord, have mercy. We begin Mass with those words, with that gesture, with that posture of humility because that attitude is to animate the whole of our lives. 

Beating our breasts in humble admission of one’s lowliness, of one’s sinfulness, symbolizes our desire to break down the barrier between our heart and God’s heart. Whatever it takes Lord, break the hardness in my heart, break the coldness, break the selfishness, break the attachment to sin, whatever it takes, even if it requires me being humiliated. 

It’s not easy to admit that we are sinners. It requires us to admit our faults, our wrongs: it’s humbling. As hard as it is, as hard as it is to go Sacramental Confession after a particularly embarrassing sin, humbling ourselves before God is often the beginning of something great. Humility allows God’s power to begin to change us, fill us, and bring us true joy. 

The proud Pharisee is impervious to growth because he doesn’t believe he can grow—or needs to grow—he knows everything, he believes he already is better than everybody. The Pharisees throughout the Gospels fail to recognize that Jesus is God because the Pharisee doesn’t really acknowledge a god outside of himself. And like Cain, the Pharisee becomes a murderer of his brother, condemning Jesus to an unjust death.

The Lord concludes the parable by teaching, “whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” The Christian who recognizes his need for God’s mercy, who becomes like the child before God, like the tax collector shall experience exaltation in eternity; while those who go throughout life convinced of their own self-righteousness, like the Pharisee, shall be humbled when Christ returns as judge. There can be no spiritual growth without humility, there can be no salvation without recognizing one’s need for a savior. 

At holy Mass, today, at every holy Mass, we have a choice: do we come here, entering God’s Temple, in the spirit of the Pharisee or the tax collector. The one who keeps God out, or welcomes God into one’s heart, one’s soul—the one who feigns perfection, or the one who acknowledges sin. May all that is Pharisaical be transformed by God’s love for us and our willingness to practice humility and faith for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

July 1 2022 - St. Junipero Serra - Abandoning Comfort for Service

 

Earlier this week, our Gospel reading contained the strange warning of our Lord to the scribe who was considering discipleship: "Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head." In other words, Jesus is saying, “I’m homeless. Will you follow me, even if that means giving up your home? Will you follow me even if it means never being able to go home again?”

In today’s Gospel, the Lord calls the tax collector Matthew, to follow him. For Matthew, this would mean leaving his livelihood, and also a real change of lifestyle. No doubt, as a tax collector, he lived a very comfortable life. He was well-connected, well-paid, especially, if he was anything like the typical tax collector, extorting his fellow Jews on top of gathering taxes for his Roman overlords.

“There’s no way I can change,” Matthew must have considered. But he trusted the Lord had something the world could not offer.

Throughout the year we celebrate saints who up and down the centuries who left their homes and comfortable lives to follow the Lord. Today we celebrate St. Junipero Serra who did just that.

Junipero Serra had been a university professor in Spain, but he gave up his position to come to California to teach the Native Americans about the Lord Jesus. So while our founding Fathers were fighting for our nation’s independence on the east coast, Franciscan Priest Father Junipero Serra was traveling up through Mexico to present-day California.  There he devoted himself to building churches and schools for the poor and the native people, catechizing those in his care and raising up dedicated priests to continue the Lord’s work.

St. Junipero Serra, you may remember, is the first saint to be canonized on American soil. He was canonized just in 2015, when Pope Francis visited the U.S.. And during the canonization Pope Francis praised St. Junipero Serra’s willingness to abandon the comforts and privileges of his native Spain to spread the Christian message in the new World. 

What a wonderful example we have in Junipero Serra; for no doubt, the Lord is calling us to leave behind what is comfortable—the comfort of our familiar routines, at least—to preach the Gospel and to witness to the Gospel to the strangers in our midst. May we follow the Lord into the unknown territories, carrying his light and his truth and his love to all those we encounter today. May we find excuses to leave our homes to spread the Gospel today for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

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That all Christians may be deeply committed to the spread of Christ’s Gospel, and for the success of the Church’s missionary activity.

For our nation, as we celebrate our independence this week, that we may be always grateful for our freedom, but more importantly, may we use that freedom for God’s will, rather than our own.

For all those who suffer from violence, war, famine, extreme poverty, addiction, discouragement, loneliness, and those who are alienated from their families.  May they know God’s mercy and be gathered to the eternal kingdom of peace. 

For all those who suffer illness, and those in hospitals, nursing homes and hospice care, that they may be comforted by the healing light of Christ. 

For the repose of the souls of our beloved dead, the deceased members of our families friends and parishes, for those who fought and died for our freedom, and for N. for whom this mass is offered.

Graciously grant our petitions, we beseech thee, O Lord; may your grace sustain us always in your service, through Christ Our Lord.

 

 

September 21 2020 - St. Matthew - Becoming Vessels of Mercy

Matthew was a rather unlikely character to be called by Jesus as an apostle, but then again, one could say that about the group of unremarkable fishermen.  Matthew was a Jew who collected taxes from his fellow Jews on behalf of the occupying Roman forces.  

The Jews considered the occupation of a tax-collector an outrageous disgrace, as they were known cheating their own kind and working for the enemy; tax collectors were named in one breath along with murderers, assassins, thieves, robbers, criminals, and prostitutes. People were shocked to hear Jesus call such a man into his band of intimate followers.   Shocking, too would have been the Lord’s teaching that tax-collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God” before the Sadducees and Pharisees, those who considered themselves to be good pious Jews.

The Call of Matthew, the tax-collector, is a reminder that all people, from all walks of life, no matter your sinful past, are called to follow Jesus in the ways of righteousness. Tax-collectors and prostitutes were entering the kingdom of God before the Sadducees and Pharisees precisely because they were willing to give up their former lives, their preconceived

notions about God, and their sins and follow Jesus. 

As the Lord entered the house of the tax collector in order to invite Matthew to conversion and discipleship, the Lord sends us into the houses and lives of our neighbors and fallen-away family members who do not follow Christ, to invite them to new life of Christ. 

This certainly requires great humility on our part, that we may never appear self-righteous. Our effectiveness in calling others to Christ, is proportional to our identification with Him and union with Him in grace and mercy. “I require mercy, not sacrifice” is the call for each one of us to embody mercy. 

The Sadducees and Pharisees did not understand Jesus and recognize him as God because they did not understand mercy. They were unwilling to become vessels of mercy.

But when we cultivate mercy, through works of charity animated by faith, “with all humility and gentleness, with patience,” as St. Paul writes we become effective instruments of the Lord in calling sinners to righteousness, in building up the Church, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

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That the members of the Church may seek every deeper union with the Lord through the works of mercy, humility, gentleness, and peace. Let us pray to the Lord.

For all those trapped in cycles of sin or addiction, that they may heed the Lord’s invitation to forgiveness and freedom.

For an end to indifference to God and human dignity in our government and educational institutions, businesses, and personal attitudes.

During this month of September, dedicated to Our Lady of Sorrows, we pray for all those who grieve, and that we may grieve sufficiently for our sins.

That the love of Christ, the divine physician, may bring healing to the sick and comfort to all the 

For the deceased members of our families, friends, and parish, and all the poor souls in purgatory, for deceased priests and religious, and for those who have fought and died for our freedom. We pray.

O God, who know that our life in this present age is subject to suffering and need, hear the prayers of those who cry to you and receive the prayers of those who believe in you. Through Christ our Lord.

22nd Week in OT 2020 - Friday - Inviting Souls to the Feast

Already having gained a number of disciples early on in his public ministry, the Lord attended a dinner in the house of Levi, also known as St. Matthew, a tax collector. And while at dinner in the house of Levi, some Pharisees and scribes begin to murmur about Jesus’ unconventional behavior—of dining with tax collectors and sinners. The word St. Luke uses to describe the Pharisees’ murmuring is the same word found in the book of Numbers, when the rebellious Israelites murmur and complain about the leadership of Moses out in the desert. 

When the Scribes and Pharisees then question the Lord, Jesus compares what he is doing in the house of Levi, and in his ministry, to a wedding feast. The Scribes and Pharisees, quite versed in the traditions of Israel, would no doubt have picked up on the messianic undertones of the Lord’s comparison. The age of the Messiah, the long awaited for final stage of human history, when the Lord’s Messiah would usher in the definitive kingdom of God—is scripturally linked to the wedding feast. And this allusion would not be missed by the Scribes and Pharisees. They would not have missed, that this unconventional itinerant preacher essentially just claimed to be the Messiah.

They would also not have missed the point of his analogy of putting new wine into old wineskins. New wine was also a Messianic image. Through the work of the Messiah, the Lord God would provide for his people rich food and choice new wines—juicy rich food and pure choice wines. 

We are in this final stage of human history. We are in the end times, when the most important thing we can do, is put our faith in Jesus Christ—this is the work of the Church, the task of every Christian—to invite souls to the wedding feast—to invite souls to Faith in Christ.

Some of the scribes and Pharisees would accept this invitation—many would not. And the same will happen in our age. Some will believe, and some will not. But we must be faithful, faithful stewards of the mysteries of God, as Paul writes in our first reading today. We will be judged, St. Paul says, on how faithful we are to this task. 

So may we fulfill this task joyfully, with great conviction in the promises of Christ, looking for ways and opportunities to bring Christ to those we meet and to bring those we meet to Christ, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

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That Christians may take up the task of evangelization with renewed conviction, with generosity and creativity, to spread the saving Gospel of Christ.

For an end to indifference to God and human dignity in our government and educational institutions, businesses, and personal attitudes.

During this month of September, dedicated to Our Lady of Sorrows, we pray for all those who grieve, and that we may grieve sufficiently for our sins.

That the love of Christ, the divine physician, may bring healing to the sick and comfort to all the suffering.

For the deceased members of our families, friends, and parish, and all the poor souls in purgatory, for deceased priests and religious, and for those who have fought and died for our freedom. We pray.

O God, who know that our life in this present age is subject to suffering and need, hear the prayers of those who cry to you and receive the prayers of those who believe in you. Through Christ our Lord.

September 21, 2017 - St. Matthew - Our longing for conversion

Conversion stories are powerful. To hear of a great sinner, turning his life over to God, always moves us and resonates with us. In conversion stories, we humbly acknowledge how our lives would have been different had God not been searching us out, we recognize in them the movement of grace that stirs in our own lives and changes them forever, we get a sense of that two-fold yearning: man’s yearning for God, and God’s yearning for man.

St. Matthew was trapped in a cycle of sin. The tax collector extorted his own kind, cheating the people he collected from. For this reason, tax-collectors like Matthew were despised, and grouped together by their contemporaries in the same breath as the murderers, assassins, thieves, robbers, criminals, and prostitutes. No good Jew would even marry someone who had a tax-collector in their extended family!

But while sitting at a custom’s post, Matthew saw a man who would not only change his life, but the history of the world, forever. He followed the Christ, and invited him into his home.
Matthew, of course, would be chosen by the Lord as one of the Twelve, and would carry the Gospel after the Lord’s death and resurrection throughout Persia and as far as Ethiopia, where he was martyred on order of the king.

Matthew responded, not to the orders of a military leader, but to the invitation of the Savior. The Lord desired for Matthew so-much-more-than the old sinful life, as he does for all of us. Jesus called Matthew from sins which alienated him from God and his neighbor, to the new communion of the Church, and to a life of freedom and grace.

The liberation and happiness the Lord brought to Matthew’s life is available to us if we but trust the Lord, and leave behind selfishness, fear, and ego-centrism.

Jesus dined in the homes of tax collectors and sinners in order to satisfy their deepest hungers—to reveal to them the truth for which they longed in their deepest being. As the Lord feeds us at the Eucharistic table today, may we recognize in Him our hearts deepest longings, and trust him as he sends us out on the mission of spreading the Gospel according to our own ability, for the glory of God and salvation of souls. 

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That all Christians may have the courage to confess their sins and to courageously follow the Lord’s call to spread the Gospel.

For all those trapped in cycles of sin or addiction, that they may heed the Lord’s invitation to mercy and freedom.

For Pope Francis’ prayer intention for the month of September: “That our parishes, animated by a missionary spirit, may be places where faith is communicated and charity is seen.”

That the love of Christ, the divine physician, may bring healing to the sick and comfort to all the suffering.

For the deceased members of our families, friends, and parish, and all the poor souls in purgatory, for deceased priests and religious, and for those who have fought and died for our freedom.

O God, you know that our life in this present age is subject to suffering and need, hear the prayers of those who cry to you and receive the prayers of those who believe in you. Through Christ our Lord.

Homily: 30th Sunday in OT 2016 - The humble shall be exalted

A few months ago, I got the great idea to learn how to play the violin. I grew up playing a little bit of piano and trumpet; I sang in the choir in high school and in seminary, so I’m pretty familiar with reading music. And so I figured, how hard could the violin really be? So I got a hold of a violin, and realized pretty quickly that if I was going to progress in this instrument, I was going to need to take some lessons: I didn’t even know if I was holding the thing correctly.

And I have to admit, those first few violin lessons, were very humbling. I admitted to my violin teacher that I was a bit uncomfortable: you know, a grown adult, a priest, several college degrees, and I could barely get through “Mary Had a Little Lamb” without the violin sounding like I was torturing some poor cat.

Now, several months later, I’ve progressed a little. Father Klasinski may disagree, but it doesn’t quite sound like I’m tormenting small animals in my room when I practice. But, I really have to admit, those first few weeks, were very humbling, and very uncomfortable. The violin didn’t care about my degrees, about the time I spent visiting the sick, or teaching in the classroom. And to sit with this professional violin player was kind of embarrassing. I felt like a little child.

But, I’m so glad I risked a little embarrassment, because now I’m able to enjoy practicing and playing one of my favorite musical instruments.

You may have had a similar experience: learning a new language, a new skill, always involves a little bit of humiliation. But when we willingly undergo that humiliation, that makes all the difference. One wonders if there can be any real growth without humiliation—we have to be willing to become like little children.

Sometimes I think little children are much more courageous than adults. They don’t worry about what people think of them, they just engage. They’ll try new things because they look fun. They play without self-regard. They quickly make new friends—they are able to do things that many adults would be humiliated over doing—but that’s the key to their joy isn’t it…not fearing humiliation.

Not only is this true in making a new friend, learning a new skill, enjoying a new hobby, facing humiliation is also important for new growth in the spiritual life.

Would we honor Saint Francis as a great Saint if he had allowed his fears of what others thought of him to control his life? If he worried about being considered “overly religious”? Or Saint Clare? What if she let social pressures keep her from leaving behind her family wealth to pursue radical holiness. Or St. Paul, what if he had left his fear of unknown lands keep him from his missionary journeys. So many of the great Saints risk humiliation, they risk failure, they risk mockery, in order to pursue true greatness.

I think this fear is why many of our young people do not consider entering the religious life or going to the seminary. What will they think of me if I joined the monastery. But, I think each of us, in the Christian life, have to ask ourselves, do we want to be great in the eyes of the world, or in the eyes of God?

I pray that fear of the unknown, this fear of humiliation, the fear of being considered “overly religious” -- does not keep anyone here from joining the choir or becoming a Eucharistic minister or volunteering your time in charitable service.

In today’s Gospel of the Pharisee and the tax collector, Jesus praises the humility of the tax collector while denouncing the arrogance of the Pharisee. The Pharisee was unwilling to humble himself before God. The Pharisee goes into the Temple, but the words he offers are more of an exercise in self-congratulation than prayer.

Real prayer, the prayer of the tax collector, is like learning that musical instrument, learning that new language, that new skill, it’s about making ourselves vulnerable before God, recognizing that before God, I’m a child, I barely know how to walk, to talk, stand.

Some people say, they don’t like to pray because they really don’t know how to pray. Wonderful. That’s the first step! That’s the right attitude! In the Gospel, Jesus condemns those who just sort of babble, who offer this long list of prayers without having the right disposition of heart.

The Pharisee failed to pray because he maintained this shell of pride around his heart. He thought that prayer was standing up in the temple and talking about how great he was, instead of kneeling like the tax collector and recognizing how great God is.

You can see it in the difference in the postures of the two men. The Pharisee stands proud, arrogant, the tax collector kneels, doesn’t even lift his head to heaven, he beats his breast praying, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner”. Be merciful to me. Have mercy. We say those words at the beginning of every Mass. Lord, have mercy. We begin Mass with those words so that we may have a true posture of prayer throughout the whole Mass.

It’s not easy to admit that we are sinners. It requires to break the shell of our pride. That’s why I love that gesture of beating the breast during the Confiteor and first Eucharistic prayer: it’s like breaking down the barrier I’ve placed between my heart and God’s heart.

As hard as it is, as hard as it is to go Sacramental Confession after a particularly embarrassing sin, humbling ourselves before God is often the beginning of something great. Humility allows God’s power to begin to change us, fill us, and bring us true joy.

Jesus’ ended the parable by teaching, “for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” The Christian who recognizes his need for God’s mercy, shall receive that mercy; while those who go throughout life convinced of their own self-righteousness, shall be humbled when Christ returns as judge. There can be no spiritual growth without humility, there can be no salvation without recognizing one’s need for a savior.

As Jesus comes to us again today, in word and sacrament, may our posture before him be that of the humble tax collector, and may that posture of humility be the beginning of new spiritual growth, a flowering of new spiritual gifts, a new chapter of service for the glory of God and salvation of souls.