Sunday Readings

“We Echo On Earth…”
Lenten Series 2010
Wait For It...

One of the great frustrations of modern life seems to be the disappointment that things do not work as they should. But that's life, isn't it? Things go wrong and break as Murphy's Law appears supreme. Making mistakes is part of the imperfection at the heart of what it means to be human.

And as easily as we accept the mistakes and faults of humanity, we maintain a belief that there is something more, that God is greater than our worst. Today's readings witness to this hope. A bush that burns but is not consumed is out of the ordinary; a fruitless fig tree is a waste. In both cases, the presence of God is supreme. The natural conditions of these two plants is absorbed into the supernatural presence of the mercy of God.

In a world where things do not work as we think they should, where people -- ourselves included -- often do not reach the goals and expectations we think are right, mercy presents itself. Dreams delayed and deferred are truly sad, but destiny denied is truly tragic. It is easy to confuse the two. We can dream great things and scheme to achieve them, but our destiny, our call to the eternal glory of God, may often be very different. The mercy of God speaks to both while distinguishing between the two.

For example, a failure in school can affect us so strongly we believe that we are failures at other things in life. We then jump the rails, and begin to equate our human failures with an anticipated denial of God's grace. We can succeed at something in life and be skilled in a certain area. Again, we can jump the rails, and begin to think that our success exempts us from the need for God's grace. The challenges and blessings we encounter each day show us the Providence of God's will for each one of us.

But the hope of our faith urges us to look higher and beyond. Like Moses, we must have the curiosity that seeks to understand. Like the gardener, we have to allow what we would otherwise have chosen.

The beauty of this life is that God allows us to live for this brief span with a front row seat to the amazing contradictions of the Cross He once carried for us. In our examination of conscience in this Lenten season, we can see the ups and downs, the sins and virtues that are our personal history. This history is brought into the presence of God especially in the sacrament of confession. The splendor of mercy shows us the outline of a grace we could never anticipate. The light from that burning bush would guide the Israelites through the Red Sea and bring them to the promised land. The gentleman farmer would one day be delighted with the product of a tree he once wanted to cut down.

This is something older people are very good at. They've seen so much -- the good and the bad. They hope, with a cautious eye, even when others are discouraged or dismissive. Maybe that's why everybody loves a grandparent! But this wisdom is not the privilege of the select few. This is a doctrine of the gospel Jesus called us to proclaim to the world.

Maybe, it would be a good idea to proclaim it to ourselves. Maybe in this Lenten season, we can prove the hope of mercy in the sacrament of confession. Yes, and we proclaim and urge the Christian faithful to morally correct living in the season of repentance. But equally we proclaim the marvel of mercy and forgiveness God assures us when we asked it of Him.

But when we look at ourselves (and those around us), it is a wonder to see what God will do. If we choose, we can see it. We are impressed with athletes who overcome personal difficulties and conditions as they stand with a medal around their necks. We take pride in the student who struggled and overcame. We even call them "heroes." And rightly so.

Why deny ourselves this same status? Or better, why deny ourselves the vision of God's action in our lives and our cooperation with it?

Our celebration of Lent, encourages us not to. So even if things are not what we thought they would be, God can work with it. If our faults and sins have been bad, trust God's forgiveness is greater. Inspired by his grace, the choice is ours.

And may God give us the grace to choose well.

Sunday Readings

“We Echo On Earth…”
Lenten Series 2010
Dark Glory

Did you notice that? Didn't something seem out of place? Actually, until this past week I didn't notice it either. I've preached on these readings for years and I missed it.

The ancient account of the covenant with Abraham and the spectacular glory of the Transfiguration both are moments of grace as well as moments of darkness. Abraham is caught up in a murky darkness with flying spectacles. It may be mystical but it is also terrifying. The disciples witness the stunning glory of Christ transfigured but there is a shadow that enveloped them as well.

What's going on here? As St. John says, "God is light." Almost every image of God in the Bible, in human art, in our imaginations is luminous. From the shimmering starlight of the dark Christmas eve to the candlelit brilliance of the Easter Vigil, the comforting purity of God Himself casts out all darkness. Still, there is that shadow.

No, it doesn't make sense especially if we are happy with what we know and believe of God as we choose. In a sense, Peter was speaking for us when he said, "Lord, it is good to be here." Could he have been ignoring that shadow and said, "yes Lord, this is good enough. We don't need to go any further. We're okay with you being the Christ and the miracle worker. Let's not complicate this any more than we need to."

Who could blame him? As they come down the mountain things are clearly going to be different. The one who came to give life, restore health, and bring good news is now starting to talk about death and suffering. Even with that voice from heaven and the glory of what they had just seen, that dark shadow seems to follow them as they go down the mountain. The great saints of our church, as well as our prayer in the liturgy today, demonstrate the Transfiguration was the preparation for holy week. It was a preparation for the difficulty of Good Friday by training the disciples to look beyond it to Easter.

As people called to live the Paschal mystery, we can understand that. There is a darkness every human being faces yet we are called to look beyond it to a glory more lasting. Encouragement is the Christian obligation to take up the cross in imitation of the One who took up and rose over our own cross.

But there is also a third darkness, a third shadow. Most of us can agree by faith coupled with experience that regardless of how bad Good Friday may be, Easter will follow. We first look to Christ Himself and then to our own struggles. But this last shadow has no simple resolution. How is it that we have darkness in the overwhelming glory of God's presence?

The more we love someone the more we try to know them. But even as our knowledge advances so do the questions. Even the basic and simple things in life betray a mystery deeper than we can say. For example, how is a baby’s smiling reflex a thing of wonder? How does refractive light encountering dust particles produce a sunset defining beauty itself? In these creative things, we begin to touch the indescribable mystery of God. Words do not suffice nor is explanation possible before the mystery of God.

This darkness is not a problem, however. Nor is it empty and aimless. In fact, it is quite the opposite. This shadow is a sign of the overwhelming presence of God. Words and images are our attempt to define something; silence and darkness is God's attempt to draw us closer to himself. God is not an explanation or solution because God is the absolute mystery of love. He entices our hearts more than teasing our mind.

Sorry to disappoint, me but no, I have not turned into a mystic after one and a half weeks of Lent. But what we have in the readings today -- and what ought to be the heart of our religion -- is mystical. It is the fuel of our devotions and practices in this holy season. Anything less, just wouldn't be worth it. A Christian has the right to expect to find the mystery of God in every aspect of life. Similarly, a Christian has the obligation to seek it out.

And especially in difficult times, when pain seems to be the only thing we can see, our faith seeks the shadow of God's presence. And God’s fidelity to us promises, in the words of the old hymn:

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven's morning breaks and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, and death, O Lord, abide with me.

And He will because in His risen glory, having trampled down death by death, He told us, "behold, I am with you always even to the end of the world."

Sunday Readings

“We Echo On Earth…”
Lenten Series 2010
His Tempted Glory

This past week, we were treated once again to a public apology from a sports star who has gone astray. We've almost come to expect it, haven't we? A politician, an actor, or anybody in the public spotlight who commits a transgression must come before the cameras and apologize. Experts are called in and opinions are shared as to whether or not the reprobate deserves forgiveness based on how sincere the apology was or was not. In the modern world, sin has gone public.

And what I find interesting is how many are offended because, by some mysterious process, the latest public sinner had up to that point been "a role model." Someone most have never met automatically becomes the example for living life. Good and bad behavior become a matter of publicity. In fact the entire project of living a decent life and a moral life are conveniently removed from us and placed outside of us. We start to look at the inner workings of our own hearts as if we were commentators on the evening news.

The Gospel today has a different take on this. These three temptations of Christ are not about Christ; they are about our humanity. As God, there was never a question He would have given into them. But for our sake, He experienced them as we do. There is nothing "over there" or "someone else" about these. All three are temptations of the ego.

The desires for total satisfaction, power, and control rest comfortably in the sin scarred heart of the human person. I'm not talking about the good desire to achieve a measure of excellence as far as we are capable. No, I am talking about the uncontrolled ego that burns like fire -- consuming everything and everyone for its own flash of glory.

Notice how Christ deals with each temptation. He doesn't deny the human desire for what the devil offers; He replies with the truth of Scripture. He will not go down the path pretending that everything is okay. And because He is so sure of the truth, He does not give in.

But the truth is often more trying than the temptation itself. We have to be honest here: the truth is not always pretty. Sure we can go with the illusion but only the truly psychotic truly believe it. We are sinners who sin. We can excuse it, rationalize it, or ignore it but it never changes, does it? At the end of the day, it's just who we are.

Yes, but that is not all we are. We are created in the image and likeness of God that whispers in the darkness a vision of more than we can see. We dare to hope after the raging storm of the ego subsides that there will be forgiveness from God. We go so far as to believe in the mercy of God precisely because we know our need of it.

The goal of our faith is nothing less than our salvation by the Truth. The truth is that we are sinners AND we have been redeemed. Anything short of these two absolutes is a lie.

We can look endlessly at fallen heroes and tainted role models. But the fault, as Shakespeare said, "lies not in the stars but in ourselves." The public may or may not accept their contrition demonstrated in their confession.

But as Catholics, we understand this should be more than a publicity stunt. Confession is not the same as absolution. Anyone can hear a confession and bartenders hear more than most priests. We're not looking for that; we're looking for absolution. In the noisy damage of our sins, we want to hear more than anything that peaceful assurance that we are forgiven.

In the Lenten season, the sacrament of confession has always played a significant role. With good reason, it is an essential part of the 12-Step program because in the needed honesty of recovery, the admission of our damage is a part of the healing. Our sacramental use of confession echoes the freedom of the truth needed to counter and conquer the lie of our own ego.

Make this Sacrament a part of your Lent. We've only just started but we all know how time slips by. Go where you are known or unknown -- but go. The poisonous accumulation of sins large and small can never be explained away. Sometimes, we even start to grow comfortable with them because we get used to them. That's not what God made us to be. By grace, we are called to live in the mansions of our Father's house not in the squalor of our sinful slums.

The ego forgiven finds its greatest glory in the humility of mercy. No temptation, no failure, will ever be greater than this.

Sunday Readings

Bless Us

It seems like we just finished counting our blessings at Thanksgiving and Christmas. But the commercials on TV have changed. Instead of counting up what we received or gave, we are trying to figure out how much we owe the government as we grow closer to tax time.

We rightly describe the good things we have in this life as blessings from God. We instinctively judge bad things as the opposite. In other words, we begin to think the presence or absence of material things as the surest sign of our relationship with God. That's easy to understand, isn’t it? After all today is Valentine's Day and woe betide the cheap gift giver!

So how can Jesus say that anyone is blessed who is lacking in anything? How can the poor be blessed simply because they go without while the rich are cursed merely because they have? Is it really that simple? Some leftist radicals think it is.

But they make the same mistake of those who believe "the more you have, the more God loves you." What they have done is to reduce our relationship with God to the material level. And throughout the Scriptures, God warns us against this purest form of idolatry.

The warning here is apropos for today’s world. The value of a person -- and anything connected with the person -- is measured, tested, and weighed. Our human standards of productivity and efficiency supersede our religious ideals. It seems that what we cannot measure cannot be real.

Case in point: recently I saw a clip on the news featuring someone who had sold a piece of jewelry belonging to a dear departed relative only to discover how little gold was in it. She incredulously wept because she claimed to have been ripped off by jewelers who cheapened the memory of her dear Aunt Mary by not giving her more money. I guess some people do put a price on love.

We are called to something different. We are called to be a people blessed by God first and foremost. This is our highest value -- of ourselves and each other. This is about identity, not property. Everything in this life is a blessing whether we value it or not. Nothing happens and nothing is given or withheld without the permission of God. We often do not understand how it can be nor can we demand that others understand their situations as a blessing from God. It were suffering not appreciate the pious prattling of those who are comfortable.

Here is where we step out in faith. We take a stand and claim our identity and value as people under the providence of God. Everything around us -- and sometimes including those who love us -- urge us to aim lower. We are told falsely that God only helps those who help themselves -- so help yourself to whatever you want at the cost of whoever gets in your way. We are lulled into reveling in our dreams while despising the discipline to achieve them. We start to believe, as the old T-shirt says, "he who dies with the most toys, wins."

It takes a real blessing to stand against that. In worldly terms, it didn't work out so good for Jeremiah or Jesus. But we know the story does not end in defeat. And this week, we begin to walk again that difficult road.

Oh goody! Lent is here again. On Wednesday we will receive ashes burned from the palms we used last Palm Sunday. Trophies of public acclaim are reduced to carbon particles. Even so, we still sing "hosanna in the highest." Who we praise will always be greater than the praise we offer.

The same is true of what we choose to do in this Lenten season. What we give up is never greater than the reason we give up. The blessings we share with others are shared to bring us closer to the One who first blessed us.

The joy of this coming season is not that we will be blessed because of what we do.

The joy of the season is realizing that we are already.

Sunday Readings

11 Feb - Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes
Mass and Annointing of the Sick
at St. Aloysius Church
21 Cherry Street
New Canaan CT
The Deep End

I remember the first time I dove into the deep end of the pool off the diving board. The rest of my group was cheering me on screaming, "go for it!" Well, I like to think it was a cheer rather than a gear. I remember that I was nervous about the deep water. But what frightened me more was that I did not know how it would all work out. I didn't see myself triumphantly bounding out of the pool having conquered my fear nor did I see myself floating lifelessly on its surface. All I could see was the terror of the moment.

If you can't tell, everything worked out fine. In fact, better than fine because I emerged from the water ready to conquer the universe. And even back then, I laughed at how scared I was.

So when Jesus tells Peter to pull out into the deep water, I have an idea of how terrifying that was. Equally, I know how exhilarated and astounded he felt. And while my last reaction was natural for an eight-year-old, his reaction was supernatural.

It’s easy to mistake these readings today as merely the challenge to take a risk. It’s actually far more than that. What Isaiah saw and what Peter experienced is something no human risk could ever reveal. Both of them were overwhelmed by the majesty of God. Both of them, being overwhelmed, discovered the truth of humility and the exaltation of mercy.

If you have met someone who has had a profound conversion experience – or have gone through it yourself – you know what I’m talking about. Many describe it as the first moment in their life when “God was real” and “I felt God’s love like never before.” Many different descriptions show us how difficult this is to describe because it was so profound. We use the language of poetry much as we need to use it when we speak of how much we love someone.

And you see, this is why religion doesn’t work for a lot of people. We ourselves have to ask far too often, “where is the love, where is the passion?” There has got to be so much more than rules and rituals. And very much like love itself, the answer is with us. Are we open to it? Are we willing? Are we honest enough to look for it? Are we courageous enough to allow it?

The truth is, most of the time we are not. The amazing grace of God’s mercy may come at the price of our own egos. The profound reality of God can be too much for our own desires and plans. We instinctively know the love of God is a good thing so long as we are the ones who can set the rules.

I don’t know if there is an easy solution. We have been trying for 2000 years or more. Maybe the only way is God’s own way. All we can do is to open ourselves and encourage one another to do the same.

So go out into the deep waters. Walk to the end of the diving board. Yes, it is scary and new but we are never alone. We have a crowd of saints cheering us on screaming “go for it.” God is there watching us, making sure will be okay. And as we break through the water, we are exhilarated and humbled.

And if none of this makes any sense to you (and you’re wondering why I am not commenting on the Super Bowl), ask our Lord to reveal Himself to you.

He told Peter to be afraid. He tells us the same thing.