Homily: Monday - 31st Week in OT - Humbly regard others as more important

Having concluded our weekday reading of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, we’ll read this week, Paul’s short four chapter letter to the Philippians.

Philippi, in northeastern Greece, was a city of some importance.  It was a city in the Roman province of Macedonia. It’s population of about 15,000 people was comprised of five groups: a small group of wealthy Roman elite, the farmers, the merchant class, the poor, and slaves. Most of these people were pagans, and the Christians numbered around 2 or 3 hundred, there was also a small group of Jews.
Reading through this letter, one can tell that Paul has a special place in his heart for the Philippians.  And this makes sense, because according to the book of Acts, Paul established the Church at Philippi.

This letter is neither a treatise on systematic theology, like Romans, nor is it a practical, moral letter answering many specific questions and local problems, like I Corinthians.  It is a pastoral, personal letter in which Paul expresses his love for the Philippians, his confidence in their progress in holiness, and his joy that the Gospel is spreading throughout the world.  And he writes all this, while in prison in Rome where he was awaiting death.

Because of the Holy Day and feasts this week, we won’t get to hear the most famous passage of Philippi, the great Christological hymn in chapter 2, so we’d do well, to read it on our own.

In today’s passage Paul exhorts the Christians, “complete my joy by being of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart, thinking one thing.”  Do not just look after your own interests, but also for others.

Ironically, in Protestant circles, today, October 31 is known as Reformation Day. A day to which we can trace the many divisions which now afflict the Christian Church. These divisions would no doubt break Paul’s heart, who labored so intensely for church unity. Throughout his letters to the Romans, Galatians, and Ephesians, Paul stresses doctrinal unity as essential, but here, to the Philippians he stresses not just a unity of ideas, but a unity of spirit—a brotherhood among Christians, a deep fraternal love, in which we “do nothing out of selfishness”.

“Humbly regard others as more important than yourselves” he says. Our homes and hearts are to be open to the needs of others.

In this great year of Mercy, Pope Francis has challenged us to do the same; to look to the needs of others, to not be so wrapped up in our own problems, our own pursuits, our own habits, but to break out of that comfort zone, in order to truly see those in need all around us.

Through mercy, through service we come to experience the depths of love in the heart of Christ. The life of a vibrant church is to be embodied in concrete acts of charity, friendship, forgiveness, reconciliation, visiting the sick, offering hospitality, lending a hand to disabled neighbors, doing the work no one else wants to do.

May we be dedicated to this form of unity. For Jesus came not to be served, but to serve. And so must we...for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

Homily: 31st Sunday in OT 2016 - "To seek out and to save"

A priest I know tells the story of a young man who was dying of cancer—who was just 24 years old.  In the final stages of his illness, the priest went to see the young man, and the young man said: “Father, you once told us something that has made it easier for me to accept my death.  You said: ‘There are only two potential tragedies in life, and dying young isn’t one of them.  You said the first tragedy is If you go through life and don’t know that you are loved, and the second is if you go through life and you don’t tell those whom you love that you love them. When the doctors told me that my cancer was terminal, my family has stood by my side, I realized how much I’ve been loved, and I’ve been given this time to tell my family and others how much they mean to me.  People ask me: ‘What’s it like being 24 years old and dying?’  I tell them, ‘It’s not so bad.  It beats being 50 years old and living without values and faith and knowledge that I’m loved by God and my family.”

Faith prepares us for death.  Faith helps us to love and to know we are loved.

I thought of this story for several reasons. For one, it is priesthood Sunday. We thank God for our priests and pray for our priests. Priests who baptize, priests who absolve, priests who celebrate the Eucharist, priests who help hardened sinners return to Christ, priests who help families live the Gospel, priests who help us prepare for the end of our earthly life.  The Catholic Church will need priests until the end of time, to carry out the ordained ministry according to God’s plan.  And each of us has a role to help young men hear God’s call to the priesthood—help them to truly believe that to be a priest is a wonderful vocation and in invaluable one.

This may sound a bit morbid or strange, but as I began to discern my own priestly vocation, one of the aspects of priestly ministry that really spoke to me was the priest’s serenity in the face of death. Priests are called to visit the beds of the dying. The priest is summoned to the beds dying strangers and longtime parishioners, both lukewarm and devout souls; and he is called upon to administer the Church’s final rites, to help the soul prepare to meet God.

Death—which most men fear and spend their lives fleeing from and distracting themselves from, priests, put aside this fear, perhaps even conquer it, to bring peace to others. What a blessed vocation!
Another reason I thought of the story is because today is our annual Bereavement Mass. Joining us today are family members of those who have died in the last year. We grieve for those who have died. Grieve because life is different without them, their absence is felt so deeply. And so it’s important for us to gather together in our grief to pray for each other—to turn to God who is the source of our consolation, and to thank God for the opportunities he gave us to love them.

That love, no doubt continues, even years after their passing as we pray for the departed, remembering them at the altar, lifting their souls to God.

This Wednesday, November 2 is the feast of All Souls—a day set aside in the Church year simply to pray for the repose of our loved ones. Though Tuesday is the feast of All Saints, a Holy Day of Obligation, where all Catholics are obligated to attend Mass, I also urge you to consider attending Mass on Wednesday, to pray for our beloved dead.

One of the most devastating and tragic effects of the Protestant Reformation in the 16th century, was that Protestants stopped praying for the poor souls.  And they really lost something essential to the Christian life. Praying for the dead is part of being Christian. It’s a practice found in Scripture, taught by Sacred Tradition, encouraged in the words and writings of the Saints.

Why do we pray for the dead? It’s an act of mercy! It’s an act of mercy to help those in need. And the souls in purgatory are in need of our prayers. Those who die with even the smallest amount of earthly selfishness, with attachment to the things and ways of the world, are in need of purification before they can enter heaven.

Understandably, many Catholics do not like to pray for our departed loved ones.  We like to imagine our loved ones who did display so much love and affection throughout their lives to have entered immediately into heaven. It can be painful to think of them still awaiting entrance into the heavenly kingdom.  But to be honest, most souls need such purification. The only members of the faithful departed we know with absolute certainty to be in heaven are those definitively declared by the Church to be canonized Saints.  Until a soul is declared a Saint by the church we do not err in praying for their eternal repose.

Many of the saints, St. Padre Pio, St. Catherine of Genoa, had strong devotion to praying for the poor souls.  It is an act of love to pray for our loved ones. So continue to show your love for them by praying for them constantly, offering rosaries and novenas for them, having Masses celebrated for them. Just as we can offer comfort to our loved ones by hold their hands as they lay dying, so too we can bring them comfort and aid through our prayers.

If you haven’t had a Mass celebrated for loved ones recently, go to the parish office this week and schedule a Mass. For, the Mass is the greatest and most powerful prayer we can offer on behalf of those who have died.

Christ's whole life on earth was dedicated to bringing people back into friendship with God, helping them to be free from sin, as he says in the Gospel today: "The Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost."

All of us have been given a share in this mission: to seek and to save what was lost.

By praying for the dead we help souls complete the journey, by sharing our faith with unbelievers we may help souls begin the journey. We thank God this weekend for our priests, and pray that we may always have good faithful priests to assist us on the journey, and pray for and thank God for the gift of our loved ones who have walked with us, laughed with us, cried with us, and embraced us throughout the journey.

May the Lord Jesus, through the Word and Sacrament we celebrate today, make us ever more faithful in the mission for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

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.

Homily: Friday - 29th Week in OT 2016 - Humility, Gentleness, and Self-restraint

From prison, Paul pleaded with his Christian brothers and sisters to "live a life worthy" of their calling. 

Paul then describes the type of conduct he is urging: humility, gentleness, patience.

Jesus himself exalts humility in the Gospel.  Paul now urges the same humility that Jesus taught and showed us on the cross.  Humility was an attitude that the pagan world despised, yet it is first among virtues for Christians. The Greek word used by both Paul and Jesus uses for humility, 

tapeinophrosyne , literally means, thinking myself insignificant and lowly, to regard others as more important than ourselves.  To imitate Jesus’ humility, early Christians would wash each other’s feet, as Jesus did at the last supper…have you washed anyone’s feet recently? Have you stooped low to serve?

Paul next urges gentleness or meekness.  Meekness doesn’t mean shy or merely introverted.  Meekness doesn’t mean being a pushover, nor does it mean being overly pushy and overbearing. Scripture describes the truly wise as also truly meek. The meek consider things from God’s perspective before acting and speaking. How can we grow in meekness? By growing in wisdom, studying faithfully the Word of God.

Thirdly, Paul says, be patient. We aren’t to have short-fuses. The scriptural word here literally means, to be “long-tempered” as opposed to short-tempered. The Psalms even describe God as “slow to anger”. We should patiently put up with the faults and idiosyncrasies of others, and practice self-restraint—keeping our impulses and reactions at bay. Likely, the person that you have the hardest time remaining patient with, is the person God is calling you to pray for and to love all the more.

Paul explains the reason for these virtues: humility, gentleness, and patience help us to strive after the unity which should be a hallmark of our relationships and of our Church. 

Think of how many relationship are broken because humility, gentleness, and patience are not practiced among Christians. Since a profound unity exists between Christians through our baptism, we need to live a life worthy of our calling.  We have been invited to witness to the world through our love for one another.  May we live humbly, gently, and with self-restraint today in imitation of our Lord for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

Homily: Oct 20 2016 - St. Paul of the Cross - The most holy school of the cross

“I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing”. These words of Jesus always move us to examine our hearts. Am I burning with love for God? Am I burning with zeal for the spread of the Gospel? Do I have a burning love for service of my neighbor, for those in need?

Today’s Saint certainly burned with great love and great zeal. St. Paul of the Cross is the founder of the Passionist Congregation. The Passionists are known for wearing on their black religious habits the emblem of the Sacred Heart of Jesus which burns with love for God and for man.

Jesus himself was enflamed with love. Love is what motived the incarnation. Love is what drove him to the outskirts of humanity to embrace the leper, the prostitute, the sinner. Love is what impelled him throughout his Passion. His love is an inextinguishable furnace. When our own hearts had grown cold through sin and selfishness, it was his love that rekindled life in us.

How might our hearts become like Christ’s burning with love for God and our fellow man? St. Paul of the Cross, would no doubt say that we must meditate frequently on the Passion—on the Cross—of Christ. “It is very good and holy,” today’s saint said, “to consider the passion of our Lord and to meditate on it, for by this sacred path we reach union with God. In this most holy school we learn true wisdom…love is a unifying virtue which takes upon itself the torments of its beloved Lord. It is a fire reaching through to the inmost soul.”

Consider again the Sacred Heart of Christ, the Cross is plunged into his heart, like a key which opens a door. Meditating on the cross of Christ can be for us a key which opens up and transforms our hearts and will make them more like his, setting them on fire.

In the Cross we recognize what real love looks like. Love requires service, love requires daily sacrifice, love requires forgetting ourselves in order to give ourselves more fully to others.

In our moments of weakness and failure, it is easy to grow discouraged and to lose hope. That’s why in our sinfulness it is so important to meditate on how much we are loved by God. He didn’t die for the perfect, he died for us. He embraced us in our most unlovable state.

The love Christ showed on the cross is, as the first St. Paul—St. Paul of Tarsus—wrote in our first reading this morning, is a love which surpasses all knowledge, but is a love that fills us with the fullness of God.

May the Passion of Jesus Christ be ever in our hearts. May we meditate often on the cross of the Savior, and encounter “the breadth and length and height and depth” of God’s love for us, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

Homily: Oct 18 2016 - St. Luke - The Harvest is abundant...

On this feast of Saint Luke we hear his wonderful account of the sending—the mission—of the seventy-two disciples. Did you notice that the mission—the task of spreading the Gospel-- is not just for the twelve apostles. He sends not just his closest twelve, but 72, a number representative of all of his followers.

In our modern day it is sometimes a temptation to think that the mission of spreading the Gospel only belongs to priests and religious. Perhaps, it’s because we had so many priests and religious in years past, that we came to this false conclusion.

But Saint Luke was never ordained, he wasn’t a bishop, he wasn’t one of the twelve apostles. Saint Luke was a doctor who gave up his medical practice because he believed God had more important work for him to do—that it was more important to care for people’s broken souls than to care for their broken bodies.

St. Luke first encountered the Gospel through the preaching of St. Paul, and was so moved and inspired by Paul, that he left his medical practice and began to accompany Paul in his preaching mission. Little did Luke know, that God would have a unique work for him, he would become a biblical author—inspired by God he would write a two-volume work which we know today as Luke’s Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles.

When we abandon ourselves to God, abandon ourselves to the mission, we find the Holy Spirit’s inspiration to do things we never imagined—we find the courage to leave our comfortable life, and dedicate ourselves to the most important task—the urgent and ever-necessary task of laboring to save souls. “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few”—how will you engage in this most important labor today?

For if not us? Who?

As we pray that the Master will send more laborers into the harvest, let us recognize what that means: that each of us will trust the Lord enough to engage in the labor he has in mind for us, that like Saint Luke, we will trust God enough, be so moved by the urgency of the mission, that we will have the courage to abandon the comfortable, to dedicate our efforts today and all days first and foremost for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

Homily: Oct 17 2016 - St. Ignatius of Antioch - God's wheat ground by the teeth of beasts

St. Ignatius of Antioch became Christian at the feet of the Apostle St. John and was probably the greatest bishop of the 2nd generation of Christians. The letters Bishop Ignatius wrote to the early churches were often read alongside the Scripture readings. For the early church considered his words so inspiring, his witness so powerful.

Ignatius was the third bishop of Antioch. He was deeply loved by the Christian faithful and made it his special care to defend "orthodoxy" (right teaching) and "orthopraxy" (right practice) among the early Christians. Along with all of the early fathers of the Christian Church, he took seriously the charge from the Apostle Paul to Timothy to "guard the deposit of faith". (2 Tim. 1:4) Right conduct depends on right belief—this is why the devil is so bent on corrupting our faith by sending false teachers who spread error.

For teaching the saving truth of the Gospel, Bishop Ignatius was arrested and sentenced to death in Rome. While he was being brought to Rome in chains, he composed a letter to the Romans, which is always read on today’s feast during the Office of Readings.

“I am writing to all the churches to let it be known that I will gladly die for God…Let me be food for the wild beasts, for they are my way to God. I am God’s wheat and shall be ground by their teeth so that I may become Christ’s pure bread.”

He died a Martyrs death in Rome, devoured by two lions in one of the cruel demonstrations of Roman excess and animosity toward the true faith. But he believed that being torn apart by lions in the coliseum was a victory for Christ.

Just as Christ offered his body and blood on the cross and in the Eucharist, Ignatius prayed to become like the Master. He saw that to suffer like Christ, to become like Christ particularly in the Passion.

“Come fire and cross, gashes and rending, breaking of bones and mangling of limbs, the shattering in pieces of my whole body; come all the wicked torments of the Devil upon me, if I may but attain unto Jesus Christ.”

The courage of the martyrs teaches us not to fear putting to death worldly pleasures in order to attain Christian perfection.

“Do not have Jesus Christ on your lips, and the world in your hearts” he teaches us. May the Holy Martyrdom of St. Ignatius of Antioch help us be free from all sin and error and desire nothing more than to witness to Christ with our lives for the glory of God and salvation of souls.