The Truth of Things

(The following is a homily given to the Enid Catholic Community on the Solemnity of the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ: Christmas (12/25/15)

Tonight we celebrate the sacred mystery of God-made-Man – The birth of Christ.  And in so doing, we celebrate the truth of things.     

Tonight the wickedness of the earth is destroyed; the Savior of the world has come to reign over us. (see Alleluia for vigil).  God proclaims to us good news of great joy that our Savior is born for us. (see Alleluia for midnight), and that a holy day has dawned upon us, beckoning us to adore the great light who has come upon the earth (see alleluia for day Mass).  And this is the truth of things.

In the bustle of buying gifts that will rust or decay; in the onslaught of what this world thinks the “holiday season” is about – namely that we get along and be friendly; in the hopes dashed by disappointment or the dreams crushed by superficiality and greed – we find ourselves called to celebrate in the truth of things.

In doing so, we celebrate all of the truth.  Not just the niceties of the season, but the reason for such a scandalous season as this.  And make no mistake – this is scandalous.  That God would humiliate himself by taking on the nature of dust in comparison to His Glory is utterly scandalous.  And yet, this is the truth of things.

This is the truth that our fallen world wishes that we would forget.  If we forget the stakes to which Our God loves us, it is easier to say “no” to Him.  It is easier to dismiss our universal call to holiness.  It is easier to say “maybe next Sunday I’ll go to Mass.  Maybe next month I’ll go to confession.  Maybe next year I’ll ‘try to be a better person’” – whatever that might mean.

You see, our fallen world wishes for us to be blind to the glorious gift we have been given, and for which we celebrate tonight.  It wants us to think that Christmas is all about the lights, the presents, the family get-togethers, the music.  It wants us to think of Jesus as the porcelain doll in the wooden crate we bring out this time of year, and then put back its crate for safe keeping the rest of the year.

In the end, our fallen world wants us to forget that this glorious night represents a preparation for us as it was for Christ.  This night marks the true beginning of that which we will come to celebrate in a few months; an event that is even more scandalous than God becoming Man; an event at which the angels of God, which tonight sing glorious praise, will be hushed with awe and wonder; an event of scandalous love for a fallen world: the Passion, death, and resurrection of him who tonight we are called to accept into our hearts.

My brothers and sisters, tonight is not only a memorial of the dawning of Light in our fallen world some 2 thousand years ago.  Tonight is meant to prod us on in our journey of faith to welcome that same light into our very souls.  It is meant to dispel the darkness within us, to cast out our fears, and to teach us how to join the angels in praising God. 

This is the truth of things.  It is a truth that gives us the power to become children of God.  It is a truth that gives us the strength to proclaim from the highest height the glad tidings of Salvation (see Is 52).  And it is a truth that fills us with the grace of one word: love.

May the truth of God’s Love, which has been so scandalously lavished upon us in the Person of Christ Jesus, be celebrated by us tonight and always.  

Amen.

Five Simple Words

(The following is a homily given to the Catholic Community of Enid on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, 12/08/15)

Reading 1 Gn 3:9-15, 20

Responsorial Psalm PS 98:1, 2-3ab, 3cd-4

Reading 2 Eph 1:3-6, 11-12

Gospel Lk 1:26-38

Today we celebrate a doctrine, summed up in five simple words, that has paved a way to salvation for us.  Five simple words which speak to us about the extraordinary Grace of God; of the humility of his most beautiful masterpiece of creations; and speak to who God is for those who believe in Him, and who we can be if we say “yes” to God.

Five simple words – “I am the Immaculate Conception.”

The Immaculate Conception of the blessed Virgin Mary was a belief held by the church since late antiquity, but it had not been made officially dogma until Pope Pius IX did so in the year 1854. 

This dogma helps us understand how Mary could have been exempt from the stain of original sin.  It tells us that “by a singular privilege and grace granted by God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ,” Mary had been freed of the debt of original sin before it came due for her.  It shows us that she was just as in need of the redemption of her son as we are, but precisely because she was to be the Mother of God, she was to receive her redemption in advance so as to “make straight the path of the Lord.” (see John 1:23)

But when Our Lady came to a 14-year-old peasant girl in France named Bernadette Soubirous in 1858, she qualified the statement.  Bernadette had asked her for a name, not knowing who the “beautiful lady” was who visited her near the waters of the Pau River.  Finally, she received these five words: “I am the Immaculate Conception.”

By saying this, Our Lady unlocked for us not only how she had been freed of original sin, but why.  Our Lady’s very identity – her very existence -- comes from the extraordinary gift of grace given to her by God from the moment she came to be. She had not simply been immaculately conceived, as if receiving a token of friendship with our God, or removing a dirty garment.  No: she is born of grace.  She is the masterpiece of God’s handiwork.  And she points to what we are called to be as well.

My brothers and sisters, The Immaculate Conception is the person of the Blessed Virgin, redeemed by the blood of her savior and her son.  She calls her children to share in this gift of redemption by recognizing Who bestows such grace.  Our Lady did not save us.  That was not her role, nor was it within her capacity to fill. What our Lady did do is say “yes” to God (see Lk 1:378), and so pave a way for us to follow to salvation. 

May we follow the way she has paved for us.  May we recognize in her a sign which points us to Christ Jesus, who is our brother by his human nature given to him through his Mother, and who is our God by his nature as the only Begotten Son of the Most High.

 

To Be "Free and Whole and True"

(The following is a homily given to the Catholic Community of Enid on the 2nd Sunday in Advent, 12/06/15)

Reading 1 Bar 5:1-9 

Responsorial Psalm Ps 126:1-2, 2-3, 4-5, 6

Reading 2 Phil 1:4-6, 8-11

Gospel Lk 3:1-6

In the 14h century, the poet Dante Alighieri wrote his famous Divine Comedy, where he chronicled, in epic fashion, a tour of the afterlife.  Starting in the Infernal torments of hell, Dante slowly progresses to the very heights of Paradise, giving his listeners an artistic glimpse of the life of the world to come.

My favorite part of the Divine Comedy has always been the middle section, entitled “Purgatorio,” or purgatory.  This place – described as a mountain pushed out of the earth as a consequence of the fall of Satan from heaven, comes to be a stairway for the faithful, leading to the gates of paradise.

Dante describes Purgatory as having levels that help the individual soul come to grips with the consequences of sin in its past life, thereby giving the soul the power to lay down its attachment to the sin, and so prepare for sanctity in its completion.  Like Jerusalem in our first reading today, the soul swaps it earthly robe of misery for God’s glory (see first reading).  Wrapped in the cloak of God’s justice and mercy, it is lifted to “stand upon the heights,” free of the pain of sin, and cleansed of the grime of worldly desire, thereby making its judgment on all matters “free and whole and true.” (see Dante's Divine Comedy: Purgatorio, Canto 27, line 140)

In a very real way, Dante’s idea of this state of purification speaks to what this time of Advent ought to be for us.  As St. Paul tells us today, we must prepare for the Paradise of Christ Jesus by “increase[ing our] love more and more, in knowledge and every kind of perception, to discern what is [truly] of value, so that [we] may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ.” (see second reading) 

Advent gives us hope, because it is grounded in the security of God’s glory (see first reading).  Therefore, In hope, we look forward to our own inner conversion, where the pearl of great price -- which is the love and mercy of God – is meant to reside.  In hope we ascend our own mountain of preparation and renewal, knowing that the LORD has done great things for us, filing us with joy. (see Resp. Ps.)  And in hope, we courageously prepare our lives to receive the redemption so freely given to us in the Person of Christ Jesus.

We often think that hope is passive.  That we simply sit around in expectation for something to happen.  But St. John the Baptist shows us in our Gospel reading today that this is not the case.  John’s life was that of hope and expectation, and we see these qualities through his ascetic life and passionate preaching of repentance and forgiveness. 

John’s willingness to be a voice “crying out in the desert” allowed God to use him to prepare His way, making straight God’s paths of justice and mercy so that the effects of sins could be wiped away, filling in the valleys of loneliness and humbling the mountains of shame (see Gospel)

This time of year asks us to follow in John the Baptist’s footsteps.  It prepares us to witness God’s redemption by calling us to hope.  Are we willing to do this?  Can we hope in God’s mercy and love for us?  Are we able to show our hope through our willingness to change through repentance and forgiveness?

We do not hope in vain, my brothers and sisters.  We hope in the Person of Christ the Lord who is willing and able to transform us from our sinfulness into his glory.  With confidence, may we abide in hope.  May we hope for the time when we are “free and whole and true.”

"Open the Gates"

(The following is a homily given at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church, Enid OK, on the memorial of St. Francis Xavier, Priest – 12/03/15)

Reading 1 Is 26:1-6

Responsorial Psalm PS 118:1 and 8-9, 19-21, 25-27a

Gospel Mt 7:21, 24-27

Today we celebrate the feast of our patron, St. Francis Xavier.  This saint lived a life of selfless love for those who had not heard the message of Christ, going to the people of Asia, and particularly to India. This was the ends of the world during his time.  Uncharted territory for the West.  Yet he knew the vocation God had given him was one of dispelling the darkness of ignorance and unknowing so that the Gospel could transform the world.

Echoing the words of our psalm today, Francis Xavier wished to “open the gates of justice, [and so welcome others to] enter them and give thanks to the LORD.” (see Ps 118).  He knew the power of Christ’s message, and so wished for everyone to listen to His saving words. 

St. Francis wished to open the gates of justice and mercy to every human person because each is made in the image and likeness of God.  In bringing the Good News to those who had never heard it, he stressed to those of us who have to not only listen to what we have heard, but to act upon it.

In a special way, we are the disciples of our patron in the world today.  We have been called to open the gates of our hearts so that we may listen and act on the words of salvation given to us here, and so make it available to a world in need of justice and mercy. 

With courage, let us follow in the footsteps of our patron.  Let us “forget [our] own desires, [our] human affairs, and give [ourselves] over entirely to God’s Will and his choice.” (see Office of Readings, Memorial of St. Francis Xavier)

Then the gates of justice and mercy will be open to us.  Then we will have the ability to “cry out with all [our] heart: Lord, I am here!  What do you want me to do?" Then we will have to courage to say to our Lord:  "Send me anywhere you like” (ibid.)

– even to the wind-swept plains of Enid.

Ends and Beginnings

(The following is a homily given the Catholic Community of Enid on the First Sunday of Advent, 11/29/15)

Reading 1 Jer 33:14-16

Responsorial Psalm Ps 25:4-5, 8-9, 10, 14

Reading 2 1 Thes 3:12—4:2

Gospel Lk 21:25-28, 34-36

Today marks the end of an age, and the beginning of another.  With this season of Advent, our Church prepares itself for the coming of a day of unimaginable glory and peace.  But in order to get to that day, it has to get through other days.  Days of struggle; days of purification.  

“The days are coming… when [the LORD] will fulfill the promise [he] made to [His people] of exultation (see Reading 1), but first there will be darkness and anticipation.

 “In those [joyous] days [to come],” there will be safety and security, but first “nations will be in dismay” and “the powers of the heavens will be shaken” to their foundations.

Why must this happen?  Why does our merciful God place such a burden upon the shoulders of his people?  In order to get to some semblance of an answer, maybe we should look at what our Church gives us to ponder in this liturgical season.

This time of year gives us a glimpse of what is at stake for our religion.  Advent is a time of expectation and preparation.  It is a time where we come to understand that the world around us is not what we are striving for, but rather what we strive for is a world not yet fully realized. 

This time of year is meant to show us that “the days are coming” when God will visit his people again, as he did 2000 years ago, only this time in a glorified state of justice and righteousness, bringing to a definitive end the tears shed in pain and sorrow.  But that these days are not yet.

We all know this, because we all experience the suffering of this world, at some level.  Yes, we share in the joys of life and love which surround us, but if we are honest with ourselves, we know that these glimpses of truth, beauty, and goodness are just that – glimpses into a world at which we have not yet arrived.

This season of Advent reminds us that this waiting, this anticipation was foreshadowed for us.  For 4,000 years of recorded history, the Israelites wondered the desert of unknowing and sin, desperately grasping at the scraps of goodness around it in order to fill the void left by the sin of Adam.  They cried out, begging God to “make known” His ways; to “teach [His] paths [of] truth and [salvation]” (Ps.) to a people in need of His love.

This season of Advent tells us of the ongoing struggle for sanctity even now.  Recognizing our continued efforts to “increase … in love” Advent “earnestly ask[s]” us to not only continue conducting ourselves in a way that pleases God, but to “do so even more.” (see Reading 2).

Advent tells us to “be vigilant at all times” (See Gospel Reading) in the face of a world that seems to be crumbling before us with the weight and decay of sin.  For it is sin with which we struggle.  It is sin that traps us here, like gilded prison bars, deceiving us into thinking that the world in which we live is all there is. 

With this understanding of the Advent season, I think that we find our answer to the question of suffering.  It is not a burden that a demanding God placing on our shoulders, but rather a loving releasing from us the chains of sin that we have worn so long that their weight is all we know.  The “carousing” lifestyle of the listless; the “drunkenness of the complacent, “The anxieties of daily life” – these burdens must be removed from us so that we are able to experience those days to come when the God of the Universe lifts us out of this foreign wasteland into the place we have been destined for since God loved us into existence. 

And so, my friends, today marks the end of an age -- the age of sin, and the beginning of the era of Love.  Love is what has the power to cleanse us of the grime of what is to prepare us for what is to come.

Are we willing to endure this cleansing?  Are we prepared to “be vigilant” in our hope for mercy?

As one faith, one people, let us "stand erect and raise [our] heads because [our] redemption is at hand." (see Gospel Reading)

Coffee and Candlesticks

(The following is a homily given to the Enid Catholic Community on the Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, 9-27-15)

Reading 1 Nm 11:25-29

Responsorial Psalm Ps 19:8, 10, 12-13, 14

Reading 2 Jas 5:1-6

Gospel Mk 9:38-43, 45, 47-48

The readings today made me think of two things: Coffee and candlesticks.  Hopefully, by the end of this homily, you’ll understand why… but I’m not promising anything.

First: Coffee

Our first reading and our Gospel today are very closely tied, because they present a similar problem in the text.  This problem is that, in each instance, prophesy is seen to take place outside of the normal perimeters of the faith.

In the Book of Numbers (Nm. 11:25-29), we see God impart his spirit upon seventy elders, in order that the burden of leadership could be lightened for Moses.  This same spirit gave the seventy the

The readings today made me think of two things: Coffee and candlesticks.  Hopefully, by the end of this homily, you’ll understand why… but I’m not promising anything.

First: Coffee

Our first reading and our Gospel today are very closely tied, because they present a similar problem in the text.  This problem is that, in each instance, prophesy is seen to take place outside of the normal perimeters of the faith.

In the Book of Numbers (Nm. 11:25-29), we see God impart his spirit upon seventy elders, in order that the burden of leadership could be lightened for Moses.  This same spirit gave the seventy the ability to prophesy.  Now, for scripture, to prophesy has specific connotations.  If we look at the prophets in the Old Testament, to be a prophet meant more than simple “foretelling” - that is, predicting the future.  Indeed, most often, what the prophets did could be better described as a “forth-telling” – a proclamation of what is true.[1] 

Because this authority was considered a gift of God, it is understandable that when Eldad and Medad, those who were not with the gathering of the other elders, began to prophesy, the community would question whether or not they really did have the authority.  Joshua, the man who would take Moses’ place as leader of the Israelites, goes so far as to tell Moses to stop them.  But Moses answers: “Would that all the people of the LORD were prophets!  Would that the LORD might bestow his spirit on them all!” (Nm 11:29).

Then in the Gospel (Mk 9:38-48), we see a mirror image of this.  The apostles see someone outside their group driving out demons in the Name of Jesus, and so try to prevent them.  This authority to prophesy – to be messengers of the truth – had not been explicitly given to this outsider, and so the fear that they may lead others astray – as well as probably a tinge of jealousy – drove the apostles to react negatively.  But Jesus rebukes them, saying: “There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me.  For whoever is not against us is for us.” (Mk 9:39-40)

As I worked on this homily, I was visiting one of my favorite Enid attractions: “Five80” Coffeehouse.  Five80 is a coffee house that desires to be a place with AMAZING coffee, an inviting atmosphere, and entirely focused on telling and showing the love of Christ to ALL.”[2]  Now, I could make an argument that because Five80 Coffeehouse isn’t Catholic, and so doesn’t hold to every doctrine that we do, their their authority to proclaim the Good News is questionable.  I could also become jealous at the fact that we don’t have a “catholic café” here in Enid,  And I could become afraid of the fact that this non-denominational coffeehouse might lead people away from the Church.  I could do that, and in so doing, I could shoot myself in the foot spiritually.

“Whoever is not against us is for us,” says Our Lord today. Knowing this liberates us from the chains of scrupulosity, jealousy and fear.  It allows us to see that the Good News of Jesus Christ has the true authority in this situation – an authority that transcends our petty understandings of God’s Love for the world so that it can bring healing to the greatest and the least, the saint and the sinner.

So that’s Coffee… Now, Candlesticks.

Our second reading, from the Letter of St. James, speaks to the transitory nature of this world’s riches, and the fact that what we place our hope in will decay, while that which we condemn – righteousness for the sake of the Good News – is the only thing that can save us. 

There’s something odd about this reading, though, that struck me as I was trying to understand it.  Specifically, it is this line: “Your wealth has rotted away,… your gold and silver have corroded, and that corrosion will be a testimony against you.” (Jas. 5:2,3) What struck me was the line about precious metals.  One of the main reasons why silver and gold have been found to be so valuable over the eons, other than the fact that they are more rare than, say, copper or tin, is that fact that these metals do not corrode.  Sure, silver can tarnish, and gold, being as soft as it is, can get marred.  But they tend to stand the test of time.  What typically doesn’t stand that same test, are some alloys of metals.  I’m thinking in a particular way about brass. 

Brass is an alloy of metals, made up of copper and zinc, and is used predominantly for decorative purposes nowadays.  One of the most common ways brass is used in churches is to imitate gold – brass that is brand new produces a beautiful sheen that nicely substitutes for the much more expensive gold alternative.   The unfortunate thing about brass is that it will begin to corrode very quickly if it is not maintained.  That’s why, when looking at old candlesticks, if they are not cleaned regularly, they are very dull, and often show signs of oxidation. 

So, to say that “your gold and silver have corroded” speaks to the fact that gold and silver were not chosen in the first place.  Instead, what was chosen was the “cheaper alternative,” the immediate gratification, the veneer of riches.  Spiritually speaking, we can translate this to meant that the shiny brass of our faith – that we settled for because we were not willing to pay the price for the golden truth of the Gospel – will never last the destruction of sin and suffering.  It will not stand the tests and the purgation that our faith must endure in order to be refined and purified.  If our faith is comparable to brass, than it is no faith at all.

Well… there you have it.  Coffee and candlesticks.  The first shows us the importance of cooperation within the Body of Christ; the other shows us the necessity of real and solid faith. So maybe next time we drink that cup of java or light that scented candle in the living room, maybe we can take a moment to pray for these things.  Maybe we can pray for the Truth of the Gospel to awaken our souls, so that we may be transformed by the same Gospel to light up the darkness from within and without.  Maybe we will fulfill that impulse in us to become prophets ourselves, bring forth the truth of Love we have experience so that all the world may see it and believe.   

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[1] http://christianity.stackexchange.com/questions/9406/what-is-the-biblical-definition-of-prophecy

[2] https://www.facebook.com/Five80CoffeeHouse/info?tab=overview

To Which Camp Do You Belong?

(The follow is a homily given in Enid OK on September 20, 2015)

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Reading 1 Wis 2:12, 17-20

Responsorial Psalm Ps 54:3-4, 5, 6 and 8

Reading 2 Jas 3:16—4:3

Gospel Mk 9:30-37

I’ve come to realize that, in this world, there are two camps we can belong to: the haughty and the humble.

To the haughty, if they do not agree with the truth, than what is good is bad; what is black is white; what is up is down.  Goodness is “obnoxious” to them, because in their pride, they cannot see another having more insight, more wisdom than they (see first reading). Their pride blinds them from the truth, allowing them to make sinful activity justifiable, even appropriate.

The haughty are ruthless in their quest for self-aggrandizement.  They will do whatever it takes to fulfill their jealousy and selfish ambition (see second reading).

Conversely, to the humble, the last shall be first; the child is the most spiritually prepared; and the servant is the ruler of all (see Gospel). Their humility allows them to see beyond their own little worlds and into the depths of the human experience. The humble find real fulfillment in selflessness.  They will do whatever it take to be true to who they are, and to Whom they belong.

As Christians, we have been given the example of Christ of humility.  For, as St. Paul told the Philippians, “though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God,… but rather emptied himself, taking on the form of a slave.” (Phil. 2:6-7)

Christ shows us that humility is the key to enjoying the joys of the kingdom of Heaven.  This is true because the humble themselves tend to think that they are not worthy of such blessings, thereby making them the most worthy to receive them.  The humble live out the words we proclaim at every Mass: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof, but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed.” (The Roman Missal)

Conversely, there is no room in the Kingdom of Heaven for the haughty.  This is true not because God would not make room, but because the haughty tend to think that a heaven that is not on their terms is no heaven at all.

As Satan so eloquently put it in John Milton’s epic poem, Paradise Lost: ”It is better to rule in hell, than to serve in heaven.” 

My brothers and sisters, it is vital that we take a good look at our inner life. We must be aware of the fact that we can only attain the Promised Land of heaven by first realizing our need for mercy.  And we can only truly receive this mercy if we are willing to live a life of mercy toward others ourselves. 

And so I leave you with a couple of questions to ponder today: Which camp do you belong to right now in your spiritual life?  If it is to the humble that you find your spiritual home, then what can you do to bring others to experience the grace of living in the truth of personal humility? If it is to the haughty, then I doubt you’ve paid much attention to me anyway.

Just remember: to whatever camp you belong – be it haughty or humble – you always have the choice to leave it and choose the other. 

So choose wisely.

Take Up Your Cross

(The following is a homily given for the Catholic Community of Enid on the Friday of the Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time, 8/7/15)

Reading 1 Dt 4:32-40
Responsorial Psalm PS 77:12-13, 14-15, 16 and 21
Gospel Mt 16:24-28

Sometimes I wonder if I really want to follow Jesus. He is a good example, yes; I’ll even give him the fact that he is God. He came to redeem me, and I’m grateful, but do I really want to follow him?

To follow Him means that my life will be turned upside down; it means that I will have to confront my sinfulness and work to rid myself of it. It means that I will be humbled and humiliated, by what is done to me, or by what I myself do. It means that I will experience great loneliness, great suffering, great sadness. It means that I will have to take up my cross.

Knowing all of this, I wonder if I really want to follow Jesus. My cross is painful and splintered. It is so heavy that it brings me to my knees. It is weighed down by my anger, my greed, my sloth, my pride, my lust, my envy, my indulgence. It reopens wounds in my soul that have begun to heal, as if in spite of any work on my part to bandage them.

I do not want this cross. And yet if I am to follow Christ, I must take it up. I must embrace it; I must cling to it; I must love it – because it is the same cross our Lord carried. He carried this very cross of mine to Calvary.

What we do in taking up our cross is allow our Lord and Savior to carry it for us. It is in taking up our crosses that we lay them down in front of Jesus; it is in dying to our fears that we find life in Him.

So, shall we follow Jesus? Shall we take up our cross? Shall we allow our cross to bring us to our knees, to humble us, to remind us of our need for God’s grace? Our need for God’s Love?