Honesty

(The following is a homily given on Monday of the Third Week in Advent, 12/15/14)

Reading 1 nm 24:2-7, 15-17a

Responsorial Psalm ps 25:4-5ab, 6 and 7bc, 8-9

Gospel mt 21:23-27

 

As I was prepping for Mass this morning, my nephew came up to me, really proud of this Lego contraption that he told me was a dragon – which I’ll take his word for.  It reminded me of the inherent ingenuity we have a humans beings of building things.  We build things for different reasons, but always for a reason – for my nephew, it was for fun.  For some people like architects, it is for improving living standards; for artists, it is for expression. 

The thing that we are all good at building are walls.  But these walls are not brick and mortar; they are not physical things that we can point to and admire.  Actually, they are meant to be subtle; in fact, they’re meant to be covert.  They are the walls we erect like ramparts around our hearts. 

We tell ourselves that it is for protection:  they keep people from knowing too much about us, in case they’d use that knowledge against us.  They keep others at a distance, allowing them to only see what we want them to see. 

The longer these walls are up, they begin to look more real than what we have shut out.  We begin to believe them and the lies they project, namely that we aren’t connected to our fellow brothers and sisters; that we really can’t to be in relationship – true, honest and vulnerable relationship – with anyone but ourselves. They begin to take away our ability to be honest – with ourselves, with others, and even with God. 

In the Gospel, Christ tells the chief priests and elders that if they are honest with him, He will give the answer they seek.  But because they cannot bring themselves to reveal the little bit of truth they have, Christ finds them unable to receive the fullness of truth that he offers.

The words of the Old Testament prophet Balaam show us the importance of being honest with God.  When we are honest, the barriers between us and the Almighty fall away, allowing us to be united with Him.  It is only then that our “eyes are true,” because we will “hear what God says, and know what the Most High knows;” we will “see what the Almighty sees, enraptured, and with eyes unveiled.” (Num. 24:15).  Because we are honest and vulnerable before our God.

Today the Lord asks us if we can have the courage to be honest with him; honest with our joys and sufferings; our virtues and our sins.  Will we take up the tools He gives us today in His Body and Blood to begin the process of tearing down our spiritual walls?  Will we acknowledge His authority to work the miracles in our lives that we so desperately need?

We can; we must; our salvation depends upon it.

"Heaven and Earth will pass away..."

(The following is a homily given on the Friday of the 34th Week in Ordinary Time, 11/28/14)

(Reading for the day)
 Reading 1 rv 20:1-4, 11-21:2
 Responsorial Psalm ps 84:3, 4, 5-6a and 8a
Gospel lk 21:29-33

As we close this liturgical year, we are reminded in our readings that the end is near.  As the earth dies around us, we are encouraged to keep hope alive in our hearts, and wait with faith for that time when the buds of spring will "burst open", and the summer we long for will be close at hand (see Gospel).

 As many of us are reminded during this time of year, our lives are passing away before us.  Our personal "heavens" -- of family, fortune, health, and joy sift through our fingers as easily as our personal "earthly" troubles -- our pains, fears, losses, and sorrows ("heaven and earth will pass away" -- Lk. 21:33). 

Time marches on, and it can leave us speechless.

 Thanks be to God that we have been given the gift of the One who’s words will not pass away; (Lk. 21:33)  and whose "new Jerusalem" (Rv. 21:2) will stand forever as our refuge and fortress. 

 Thanks be to God that he now lives among His people, in word and Sacrament, in this community, and in the faces of the people we have come to love… or hate… or haven’t come to know at all.

 Thanks be to God that we will see with eyes of faith the promise of God’s redeeming love come down to meet us, bringing the eternity of God’s Glory to us, in this time and on this altar.

 

The winter of this world may be at hand, my brothers and sisters, but "the Dawn from on High" (Lk. 1:78) is about to shed His saving rays upon us. 

Thanks be to God.




 

God's Love and Forgiveness

(The following is a homily given for a penance service in Dale, IN on Wednesday, November 12, 2014)

As Catholics, we live in a Church that uses signs to help us grow closer to God.  These signs are called Sacraments (see CCC 1152).  Most of us here have experienced at least two Sacraments: Baptism and Eucharist.  When we were born, or when we came into the Church, we received the love of God through the cleansing waters of Baptism, making us members of the Body of Christ (see # 84 of the Rite of Baptism for One Child).  And when we come to Mass, on Sundays or during the week, we receive the love of God in the Eucharist, where we eat and drink the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ, under the forms of bread and wine (see CCC 1374). 

In this Sacrament of Reconciliation, we will receive the love of God through words of absolution said by the priest (see #46 of the Rite of Penance). 

I may have told some of you that I came into full communion with the Church back in 2000, when I was 13 years old.  I remember that one of the hardest things for me to do was to learn how to trust in the power of the sacrament of reconciliation.  It was hard for me then, and it continues to be a struggle for now, to let go of my sinfulness, and give it to the open hands of Jesus Christ in confession. 

I like to cling to my sins – because I may feel embarrassed or guilty, or maybe because I’m comfortable with them.  So, when I am asked to let them go, so that I might be forgiven – that my spiritual illness can be healed, I often wonder if sometimes I’ll have the courage to do it or not.

The words that the priest says to us in confession have helped me face this fear concerning confession.  They are very important to think about as we prepare our hearts to receive God’s love this evening. 

This is what the priest will say to us:

“God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has reconciled the world to Himself, and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen” (#84 of the Rite of Penance)

When I think of the words of absolution, I am immediately drawn to the first few words: “God, the Father of mercies” – this image has always brought a sense of comfort and protection to me.  I envision a parent, eyes filled with love and compassion, sitting next to me, working with me on some problem I may be having, at school or work, with friends or family, or even within myself.  I feel this parent, with love and compassion, embrace me and tend to the wounds of my soul that come when I sin.  I hear this parent, with a voice of love and compassion, whisper to me that I will be ok, and that my problems are not so big that they cannot be overcome with God’s help. 

These words remind me that my God is a merciful God, full of “goodness,” “greatness,” and “compassion” who “wipes out” the evil in my life by “washing me from my guilt” and “cleans[ing] me” of my sinfulness (Ps. 51:1)  -- all because He loves me.

These words strengthen me with the assurance that my merciful God has forgiven my “evildoing and remembers [my] sin no more.” (Jer. 31:34) – all because He loves me.

These words push me to work to be like my merciful God in my daily living, teaching the world of His ways of love and compassion by being loving and compassionate to everyone I meet (see Ps. 51:15) – and all of this is because my God has shown his love for me.

God’s love is what brings us here tonight.  God’s love is what makes possible the redemption of this world – a world that is tattered and torn, bruised and sick because it has fallen into sin.  God’s love rights our wrongs; it heals our souls; it yearns to save us!

But God’s love can only do these things if we allow it to.  As our Lord tells us in the Gospel reading, the only way to let God work His Law of Love in our lives is if we “Love the Lord, our God, with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind” (see Mt. 22:37).  We must choose to do this – God won’t force us to make this decision. 

If we choose to Love our God the way He loves us, we will be changed forever.  He will show us that by seeing Him in those we meet, and by bringing Him to those who need help and comfort, we not only receive His love, but we share His love with the world. 

In Confession, we have a special opportunity to learn how to share God’s love.  The love we receive from our God when we confess our sins, will help us see that we are called to be just a loving to others as God has been and continues to be to us.   

My brothers and sisters, our God is a God of Mercy; a God of Love; a God of Compassion.  He is a God Who is worthy of our trust; worthy of our acceptance; worthy of our allegiance.  And because of this, our God asks of us only one thing: to let Him use us to show the world how awesome and great His love is.

This is what God wants – He wants us all to be close to Him; to have a real and lasting relationship with Him, so that He can embrace us all in heaven.

God wants to love you tonight.   Let Him do this for you as you meet Him in Confession.  Let Him embrace you with His love and compassion; let Him touch you with His mercy; let Him whisper to you:

“I forgive you; I redeem you; I love you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"A Gargoyle's Tale"

(The following is a homily give on Tuesday of the 29th Week in Ordinary Time, 10/21/14)

First Reading: Eph. 2:12-22
Ps. 85:9-14
Gospel: Lk. 12:35-38

It was a cloudy day.  Vigilantly watching from his perch on the bell tower, the sandstone gargoyle looked down upon the unfinished cathedral.  Sullen eyes and cheerless grin, he asked himself:

“How did it come to be, that I find myself here?
“It seems so long ago,” he said, “when I laid in comfort and peace amidst the mud and fray of the earth. 
“I had no desire except to stay there; but then He came.
“He said to me: ‘Do you wish to see who you really are?  Do you wish to soar above this mundane existence?
“’How could someone ask for less?’ I thought.  I did not understand, but I said ‘Yes.’”

As the gargoyle brooded, the rain commenced, and collected like tears on his face.  If he could have raged at this moment, he would have screamed.

“How was I to know He’d use me this way?” the gargoyle said.

“When he took me from the earth, a formless block, I eagerly waited to see.  Was I to be a foundation stone for the great ‘temple sacred?’ (Eph. 2:22) Or maybe I was to take my place nestled against the very altar itself.
“But He would only say:
‘Patience, my friend, for you will soar. Content yourself in knowing that my Will for you is to be blessed.’
Whatever that means.”

The sun broke through the storm and struck the gargoyle’s face like a gentle caress.  But the tears were want to leave.

“I thought to myself,” the gargoyle said, “that maybe I would become a statue in whose image I’d stand strong.  Our Lady, perhaps, or Aquinas or Joseph.  A cherub would do.

"But He would only say:
‘Patience, my friend. Trust in me and I will uncover the <You> I seek.’
Whatever that means.”

“Then He laid hold of me,” the gargoyle said, “chisel in hand and satisfaction on his face…”

“Or was it love?”

“Regardless, he etched away and cut and broke until I was nothing more than a decoration, a trifle; a thing that only darkness could make lovely.”

“I asked Him for a reason – ‘Why?!  Why should I be so wretched?’” 
“He replied:
‘Patience, my friend.  Each has his place in this temple, and yours is right next to me.’
“Whatever that means…”

This particular idea had always perplexed the gargoyle when he thought of it.  What could it mean? He seemed so far removed from the activity below.  He had been, quite literally stuck as the sentinel on the bell tower, lonely and cold while the rest of the temple echoed with Hosanna’s and Alleluia’s.

As he asked this question to himself for seemingly the thousandth time, he noticed the capstone being lifted into place (Eph. 2:21): The cathedral was almost complete. 

As it was set, he noticed that it was a cross – a beaming cross of gold that acted as a mirror for him, sitting just above him, within arm’s reach.  The gargoyle could see his reflection in it – transformed by the gleam of the sun’s rays, piercing the darkness around him and in him.

As he peered into the Cross’ message of love, the gargoyle saw that his scales had been replaced with feathers.  In this instant, Love and truth had met within him (see Ps. 85:11), embracing him with outstretched arms.

From the cross, the gargoyle-turned-angel heard:

“My vigilant friend (see Lk. 12:37), do you see now?  Can you see who you are to me?

The angel replied.  “Yes, my Lord.”

Tears of joy and love and hope were flowing freely now, as with a sigh the angel cried:

“I see now, because I see myself in Your eyes, and that is ALL that matters. 

“I see that I am yours, and you are mine.” 

 

"The last will be first and the first will be last"

Rev. Mr. Aaron Foshee

Homily – 25th Sunday Ordinary Time (9/21/14). 

One of the most important things I can tell you about myself is not my age, or my profession, or my family background, but rather it is the fact that I have been baptized.  

And while most of you might be saying to yourself

“You're a deacon , of course your baptized!”

I say that because it was at that point in my life

– and in the lives of all here who have also been baptized –

when we became, in a very real way, members of the Body of Christ.  

Through this sacrament, we put on the white garment of Christ and died to sin, rising to new life in the Holy Spirit.  

We were forgiven of our sins, especially ofOriginal Sin, which we inherit because of Adam and Eve’s Fall from grace;

and we were joined to a family of believers infellowship

– a fellowship that is marked by joy and pain,gain and loss, life and death, because it is afellowship that has its roots in Christ:

in his own joys, pains, gains, losses, life, and death… and resurrection.  

This may sounded like really high theology

i-- very lofty and “high-brow” even to speak of our baptisms in such a way,

but it all means nothing if we have not allowed the experience of our sacramental faith to evangelize our own spirits.

Baptism, or any sacrament, really, opens for us a way of seeing into the love of God himself, not because its “pretty” or “cute,” or “expected because we’re Catholic, and that's what we do”

– but because of what we witness in them;

because of what we experience with our eyesand ears, our touch and smell.  

It is this encounter – this “hands-on” elementthat speaks more to us than words alone can do.

But even experience is not enough:

we must also be “servants in the vineyard” (see Mt. 20)) of the Lord, working to bring the harvest of salvationto our brothers and sisters who have not accepted his love and mercy.  

Our pride can often make this hard for us to do though.  

Like the Gospel reading for today, we are met with a problem when Christ tells us that “the last will be first and the first will be last.” (Mt. 20:16)

We, considering ourselves to be “good and faithful servants”

– who have labored throughout the day and who have “bore [our faith’s] burden” of (see Mt. 20) walking the walk and the “heat” of persecution, or neglect, orpersonal sacrifice –

we may feel that this idea --of the first being last --is unfair.

And we’d be right., just not in the way we’d expect.

You see, while we may have been chosen as servants;  

And while we may bear the rewards and the consequences of the name “Christian”,

we are only called servants and bearers of Christ because the first among us –Christ Jesus –became last and least.  

Even though he was God, Christ chose to become like us

– slaves in comparison to the limitless glory that is his right to claim –

and so suffered the death of a criminal to set us free. (See Phil. 2)

As our first reading tells us today: “my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.”(Is. 55:9)  

His ways are, as the psalmist says are "unsearchable” (ps. 145) that is, unlimited –

unlimited by pride, or malice, or jealousy, orhatred.  

His ways transcend evil; overcome vengefulness;

and give –

give so completely that no power “in the heavens, on the earth or under the earth” (Phil. 2:10) can stop them.   

Our Lord’s ways we experience in the Sacraments;

Our Lord’s love we feel in the embrace of our brothers and sisters who surround us in thisfamily of believers;

and our Lord’s mercy we know

because we gaze upon it in His Body and Blood, broken and poured out to nourish us, and to save us.

And so, I’d like to pose a question to us all here:

Are we willing to share the joys, the gains, and the life of our faith to the world?  

Are we willing to lay down our jealousy andbitterness so as to welcome, with open armsthose

who are among us

because the call of the Lord brought them here?  

If we can find a way to do this, we will be pleased to find that we have co-workers in the harvest:

to share the load of pains, losses, and even death that will come our way.

We will find that our baptismal garments are still white as snow, washed in the blood of the Lamb that was shed for love us.  

And then, when our day is done and the toils of this life are ended,

we may hope to hear our Lord say to us:

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”(Mt. 25:21)

Well done.


Amen

Dogs and Table Scraps

(The following is a homily given on the 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Aug. 17th, 2014)

Anyone who has a dog knows the truth of the Canaanite woman’s words concerning dog’s and table scraps.

Dogs have the ability to work their way into their masters’ hearts in order to help them achieve what they know they need – which is ultimately food. 

In a similar way, the Canaanite woman expressed her own need in a way that captures what it means to become a part of those saved by Christ.

In Jesus’ day, Gentiles – those who did not prescribe to the Jewish faith either because of ethnicity or choice – were considered less than human, or at the least, not “savable.”

This reminded me of a conversation I had the other day with a gentleman concerning salvation. 

After discussing the atrocities that are taking place around the world, particularly in Syria and Iraq,  he asked me:

“How can such evil people be saved?”

It’s a good question; one worth considering as a Christian community. 

 

I know for me, my immediate response to all of this evil is to react in kind: “an eye for an eye; tooth for a tooth;” if you will.

In my canon law class at seminary, we were taught this interesting term: canonical equity.

For our purposes, it can be condensed to mean that justice must be tempered with mercy.

So, while we are called to seek out true justice, we must also realize that as Christians, we are called to reflect our Lord’s mercy for us toward others.

This does not mean that we must be pacifists; it does not mean that we should not defend ourselves or the needs and rights of others; but it does mean that we must never allow feelings of hatred or vengeance to darken our wills. 

As the CCC tells us, “Endowed with a spiritual soul, with intellect and with free will,” (CCC1711) each person is made in the image and likeness of God. 

This likeness has to be seen as universal in order for us to have any traction in today’s culture. 

This means that we must affirm the truth that every person shares in God’s image – the child in the womb; the elderly person; the disabled; the victim. 

But also the abortionist; the abusive caretaker; and the offender. 

As hard as it may be to wrap our minds around this, the truth is that God made them too, and wants them to be saved.

So, my brothers and sisters, what does this mean for us?  Well, as I see it, two thing:

 

First, that we are just as fallen as they are. 

We are no closer to salvation than they are;

we deserve the same punishment from Almighty God as they do because each and every day, in our own ways, we reject God by choosing to follow our wills over His. 

As a race, we have been “wounded in [our] nature[s] by original sin, [and so are] subject to error and inclined to evil in exercising [the] freedom” God has given us (see CCC 1714). 

We choose the “disobedience” of sin over righteousness as if it were a reflex.  And we have no power on our own to stop this. 

Second, and Praise be to God for this, is that, while as St. Paul tells us, God “delivered all to disobedience, [that is, allowed us all to be disobedient],” he chose to have mercy on us, and save us from our self-destruction.

Yes, we are fallen, but we are also redeemed.  We have been set free from the chains of our weakness, our wickedness, our cowardice, our egocentrism, our hatred. 

And Like the Canaanite woman, we have the opportunity to become children of the most-high by recognizing our sub-human wretchedness and crying out to God for healing.

The point of our readings today is to show us that “we have all sinned and are deprived of the glory of God” until we accept God’s gracious and merciful gift of Himself.  And that everyone is created to be able to accept this gift.

How do we do this? 

Well, we do this as our first reading tells us: “observe what is right, do what is just.” 

This should be simple for those of us gifted by being members of the Body of Christ in such a visible way. 

We not only have the ability to observe what is “right”, but we consume Righteousness Himself at every Mass;

we not only are able to act with justice, but can witness true Justice tempered with infinite Mercy in the mutual sacrifice and celebration of the Eucharist. 

As human beings, God has given salvation to us freely, and as followers of Christ particularly, God has equipped us with the tools we need to willingly accept this gift through our faith. 

God is now calling us out of ourselves, to be like him in loving those we want to hate, forgiving those upon which we want vengeance to come. 

He is calling us to bring the Good News to the greatest and the least so that, as the Psalm for today proclaims, “all the nations [will] praise [the Lord.]” 

Salvation is a gift that is meant to transform us. 

It is an example of God’s complete “self-emptying” -- laying down his divinity to become Man in order that he could raise us up out of our fallen humanity. 

This gift is meant to change our ability to love – refocusing it out, toward others, not selfishly curved in on ourselves.  

When we accept God’s love for us, we freely choose to share this love;

it heals the wounds in our hearts that tempt us to seek only vengeance and equips us with the strength and charity we need to bring the Gospel to those who have not accepted it.  

With this great gift of faith, we are able to “join [our]selves to the LORD, ministering to him [by ministering to the needs of others], [and] loving [His] name … [by] becoming his servants.” (see first reading) 

We will be given the courage to relinquish our selfishness, joining it to the offering of Christ on this altar, and thus making our free wills joined to the will of Almighty God to be intimately united with Him forever.

Let us all to make the choice to follow Christ in this moment and every moment, even to the cross, by bearing the light of Christ to the world.  

Ask Him to help us, just as the Canaanite woman did today; ask him to help us love as he loves; to forgive as he forgives. 

Don’t be content with the scraps of self-righteousness, but take your place at this table of total sacrifice, not as dogs, or slaves, or foreigners, but as sons and daughters of the Most High God.

 

 

 

Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, 2014

(The following is a homily given on the Solemnity of the Assumption of the BVM, Aug. 15th, 2017)

Today, we witness the glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary; the “woman clothed with the sun” has gone to take her place among the company of saints right next to her child and her Lord.   

Arrayed in dazzling splendor, this humble daughter of David is crowned with glory, to live forever in the radiance of Almighty God.

 

She knew of the plight of her people, that death had taken hold of mankind due to Adam’s choice to turn away from God in the Garden of Eden. 

Yet she also knew that “just as in Adam all die, so too in Christ shall all be brought to life,” 

 

This truth she cherished in her heart;

this truth she held, loved, and cared for as a mother;

this truth she watched suffer, die, be buried, and rise again. 

 

In the end, her spirit rejoiced in this truth, because it was her God, her child, and her Love. 

And she let nothing cloud this crystal clear vision of what she was called to from the very beginning.

 

 

Many in our culture today do not see the importance of Mary in God’s plan of Salvation. 

Some are even afraid that to honor her is to deify her, making her an appendage of the Trinity. 

What they fail to realize, is that Mary was just as frail, just as weak, just as in need of redemption as we are. 

The difference between her and us, was that she never said “no” to God. 

She heard the call of her Lord to be his handmaid, to be done with according to His Word, not hers. 

She believed in the saving power of God within her, and so rightly proclaimed how blessed she was, because God had looked upon her with favor. 

 

The Church looks to her as an example of holiness, not because she was superhuman, but exactly the opposite:

she exemplifies what is means to be fully human, that is, intimately united with our God and Creator.

 

Her faith made her whole; her hope made her courageous; and her love makes her, for us, the best friend in the Communion of Saints that we have. 

She is there for us, our Perpetual Help throughout the storms of this life. 

She sees in each of us her Son, and so holds back nothing in her prayers for us.

 

Today, we as a Church thank her for proclaiming the greatness of the Lord to us in her willingness to be the Mother of God, and so our own mother. 

We thank her, and we ask her today to pray for us, now and until the hour we leave this world,

to be joined with our brothers and sisters who have gone before us in the sign of faith and

who themselves rejoice in the merciful and loving embrace of our Lord and our God, Jesus Christ.