Flute and Dirge

Opening our ears of faith to hear God’s voice

09/18/2024

Lk 7:31-35 Jesus said to the crowds: “To what shall I compare the people of this generation? What are they like? They are like children who sit in the marketplace and call to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, but you did not dance. We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.’ For John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine, and you said, ‘He is possessed by a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you said, ‘Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is vindicated by all her children.”

Perhaps you have heard the old joke about the man on his roof during a flood. A rowboat came by and the rescuer shouted, “Jump in, I can save you!” The stranded man replied, “No, it’s okay. I’m praying to God and he is going to save me.” Then a motorboat came by an hour later as the water was rising and the fellow shouted, “Jump in, I can save you!” Again the man on the roof responded: “No, God will save me!”

Finally, as the water had reached his feet, a helicopter flew by and the rescuer yelled, “Grab the rope, I can save you!” But the stubborn man insisted: “No thanks! I have faith that God will save me!” Well, the water continued to rise and eventually the man drowned and died. He went to heaven and had a chance to discuss his demise with God.

He complained: “Lord, I had faith in you and prayed fervently. Why didn’t you save me?” God answered, “I sent you two boats and a helicopter! What more did you expect?” In other words, God is always aware of our position and plight – as St. Augustine said he is closer to us than we are to ourselves – but sometimes we expect the water to miraculously part instead of a simpler natural solution to our problems.

In the gospel today Jesus also discusses the different ways God speaks to us but we miss his messages. He explains: “For John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine and you said, ‘He is possessed by a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you said, ‘Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard.’” That is, sometimes God speaks through our pains but at other times he speaks through our pleasures.

C. S. Lewis put it perfectly: “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” John the Baptist was God’s voice shouting in pain and speaking in conscience, while Jesus was God’s voice whispering through pleasures, like eating and drinking. But the people turned a deaf ear.

As Franz Werfel in the novel “The Song of Bernadette” said: “For those who believe, no explanation is necessary. For those who do not believe no explanation is possible.” In other words, for believers God is speaking, whispering, and shouting all the time, and we open our ears to hear his symphony of love. For those who do not believe God is mute and never speaks to us.

My friends, may I give you a little homily homework today to train your ears to hear God’s voice? Why? Well, so you don’t end up like that poor man on the roof during the flood. Try to notice the three ways God’s voice is heard by people of faith. First, try to notice one way God whispers in our pleasures. Quality time spent with family and friends, a good delicious meal, a vigorous game of tennis. Can you hear God whispering “I love you” in these pleasures he has given us for our enjoyment? God is like a father who delights to see his children happy.

Second, listen for God’s voice speaking in your conscience. Good old Catholic guilt is one way we hear God’s voice in our hearts, and it often sounds a lot like the voice of our mom and dad, or the strict nun who taught us in fourth grade. God is a good Father who speaks to his children to grow up and become saints, and not remain childish selfish sinners. Every night before we go to bed we should examine our conscience, opening our ears to God’s voice and then opening our mouths to ask his forgiveness.

And third, God shouts to us in our pains. Nothing helps people turn back to God or come back to church like our pains and problems. A divorce, a lost job, an illness, and most especially the death of a loved one. Just like lots of family reunions revolve around the death of a grandparent or parent, so funeral Masses are full of people who haven’t darkened church doors for a long time. God shouts to us in our pains. He does not want us to suffer, of course, but sometimes that is the only way he can get our attention.

Folks, God’s voice is like a symphony of love reverberating all around us, if only we open our ears to listen. Listen then again to Jesus’ words in the gospel: “We played the flute for you, but you did not dance. We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.” Today, try not to miss the flute and dirge of God's communication, otherwise, you might end up like the poor man on the roof during the flood.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

Get a Dog

Learning how to embrace our human nature

09/17/2024

Lk 7:11-17 Jesus journeyed to a city called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd accompanied him. As he drew near to the gate of the city, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. A large crowd from the city was with her. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with pity for her and said to her, "Do not weep." He stepped forward and touched the coffin; at this the bearers halted, and he said, "Young man, I tell you, arise!" The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, exclaiming, "A great prophet has arisen in our midst," and "God has visited his people." This report about him spread through the whole of Judea and in all the surrounding region.

When I first got my dog Apollo lots of people asked me why I decided to get a dog. At first, my reason was to celebrate my 10 year anniversary as pastor of Immaculate Conception. But a better reason has emerged more recently, namely, Apollo makes me more human. Sometimes people are intimidated by a priest in a Roman collar. They think we are from another planet. If men are from Mars and women are from Venus, then priests are from Pluto, the farthest planet in the solar system and now downgraded and not even a planet.

But when people – even perfect strangers – see me with Apollo, suddenly they feel moved to talk to me. They say, “That’s a beautiful dog!” or they ask, “May I pet your dog?” And the best experience of all is when young couples come for marriage preparation. The young lady is usually polite and cheerful, but the young man is often stoic and standoffish.

But when he hears Apollo bark in my office, his face lights up and he becomes “Chatty Cathy” telling me about his dog and asking about mine. In seminary, they taught us how to become more like Christ’s divine nature – in persona Christi (in the person of Christ) – but Apollo has helped me discover Christ’s human nature. How “the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (Jn 1:14).

In the gospel today, we see another instance of when Jesus sort of “let’s his hair down” and shows his human nature. He raises a young man back to life and gives him back to his widowed mother. When I was in seminary as a deacon, I preached on this gospel and said Jesus had a premonition of his own death and the heart-breaking sorrow his own widowed mother.

It seems to be a rather spontaneous miracle – moved by the tender love a son for his mother’s pain and sorrow – and not part of a larger divine strategic plan, like when I decided to get Apollo. In other words, it was just Jesus being human and maybe made him a little more approachable too: just a kid who loves his mom. Jesus’ behavior seemed a little less like Pluto and much more like earth.

My friends, it is not only us priests who can seem like we are from another planet, but we can all fall into that trap. That is, we can try to hide our humanity and try to appear better than we really are. We say things like “real men don’t cry” and we hold back our tears. Or maybe we refrain from smiling too much or laughing out loud – or laughing at ourselves – because we think it is a sign of weakness.

Or, we rarely admit we are wrong, or make mistakes, or apologize because we fear other people will think less of us. Like us seminarians we try hard to embrace Christ’s divine nature (and hope to appear perfect) and forget he also had a beautiful, tender human nature as well. We, too, need to learn to let our own hair down, even if we don’t have any.

G. K. Chesterton ends his autobiography called “Orthodoxy” enumerating ways Jesus let his hair down to show his humanity. He writes: “The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears; [Jesus] showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city…

“Solemn supermen and imperial diplomats are proud of restraining their anger; He never restrained his anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell.” In other words, a careful reading of the gospels reveals a Jesus who wanted us to see both his divinity but also his humanity, almost as if he, too, had a dog named Apollo.

There is an old saying that always makes me pause and think: “Don’t be so heavenly minded that you’re no earthly good.” That is, sometimes we can think so much about heaven – returning to Pluto our true home – that we forget we have landed on earth to accomplish an urgent mission. Part of that earthly mission is to discover our humanity – it’s blessings, burdens, and brokenness – so that all of it can be redeemed by Christ. And one of the best ways to get in touch with our humanity is to get a dog.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

The Spice of Life

Learning what it means to carry our cross behind Christ

09/15/2024

Mk 8:27-35 Jesus and his disciples set out for the villages of Caesarea Philippi. Along the way he asked his disciples, "Who do people say that I am?" They said in reply, "John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others one of the prophets." And he asked them, "But who do you say that I am?" Peter said to him in reply, "You are the Christ." Then he warned them not to tell anyone about him. He began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and rise after three days. He spoke this openly. Then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. At this he turned around and, looking at his disciples, rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do." He summoned the crowd with his disciples and said to them, "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it."

When people first meet me, they are surprised how American I am. I don’t have a thick Indian accent, I don’t have a dot on my forehead, and I cannot even criss-cross applesauce my legs and sit Indian-style on the floor. My brother likes to say that we are basically like Oreo cookies because we are brown on the outside and white on the inside. The only thing Indian about me is this deep island tan I still have.

But one thing I am beginning to rediscover and slowly reintegrate from my Indian culture is a love for spicy food. I grew up in Little Rock, and like most kids my age my favorite foods were pizza, hamburgers, and hotdogs, and the spiciest thing on my plate was the relish for my hotdog. I turned my nose up at the spicy Indian food my mom and dad prepared at home. Why? Well, the spicy food made me sweat, and would give me hiccups, which were very embarrassing for a self-conscious teenager.

But now I have learned to appreciate the spicy food my mom and dad still cook. The sweat and hiccups signal that my taste buds have grown up and matured and I can finally judge truly good food. Msgr. Scott Friend, who loves spicy Mexican food, once said, “A good chili pepper burns you twice.” I don’t know what exactly he meant by that; maybe someone can explain it after Mass. In any case, sometimes spicy Indian food can cause some discomfort, but that is when you can truly appreciate an Indian delicacy.

In the gospel today, Jesus also discusses the discomfort of following him, that is, some sweat equity, some suffering will be required of his disciples. He tells the crowds, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” But notice Peter’s reaction a few verses earlier when Jesus says that he himself will be an example of suffering.

We read: “Then Peter took [Jesus] aside and began to rebuke him.” In a sense, Peter had an adolescent palate and only wanted the “comfort food” of Christianity, but nothing too spicy that might make him sweat and suffer. In a sense, Peter wanted to be a Christian Oreo: look like Jesus on the outside, but still be worldly and sinful on the inside. He was too immature for the spices and suffering of the truly Christian life.

Let me give you three examples of the spice and suffering that are required for following Christ fully. Our 4th grade teacher, Josey Rowe, shared this experience from last week. She said, “I could tell my students rushed through their religion work so I asked them if they thought they did their best work. They all insisted that they did.

Then I asked, “Would you be proud to show Father John this work?” And they all nodded yes at first, but then paused and Mac said, “Wait. Not Father John!” And they pulled their religion books back out and kept working.” In other words, Fr. John was the “spicy ingredient” that Josey added to her religion class to create a little sweat equity in her students.

Another spice in Christian cooking that causes some sweating is the memory of our past sins. Do you still remember your past sins? Frequently people ask my advice about what to do about the memory of past mistakes they cannot manage to forget. They say they try to erase that memory and even confess those sins several times, but all to no avail.

I suggest that instead of forgetting them, they should embrace those memories as part of the penance for that sin. That is, don’t try to forget it but rather accept it and even sit with it and mull it over, even though it causes pain, embarrassment, and regret. Like the ancient Buddhist maxim, “My enemy, my teacher.’ In other words, a painful memory can be like a spiritually spicy jalapeno pepper that sort of “burns you twice” every time you remember it. That is the spice of the Christian life.

And a third example of spices and suffering is the losses we experience in old age. For instance, our hearing is diminished and we need hearing aids. Our mobility is reduced and we need a cane or a walker. Our ability to drive a car is impaired and we must give up our car keys. Maybe even our short-term memory is curtailed, or we become incontinent, or entirely dependent on others for our care and have to live in a nursing home. We lose our home.

One elderly friend of mine asks me in great anguish: “Why am I still here? I wish God would call me home! I feel to useless and just like a burden on my family and friends!” My friends, instead of wishing to be free of these sufferings – like St. Peter in the gospel – perhaps look at them like the spices Jesus is seasoning your Christianity with. You see, it is exactly this sweat equity of suffering that proves we are not Christian Oreos: Christian on the outside but worldly and sinful on the inside.

Folks, how refined is your Christian palate? Do you still just crave the “comfort food” – give me more mercy, forgiveness, and peace! Or can you handle the spicy food that is part of the full course meal of the followers of Christ? Listen to these perceptive words from St. Paul: “When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child” – and I would add, “eat as a child” – “when I became a man, I put aside childish things” (1 Co 13:11). That is, when we grow up, we too can handle the spice of the Christian life.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

Transformative Teachers

Appreciating those called to the vocation of teaching

09/19/2024

Lk 6:39-42 Jesus told his disciples a parable: "Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit? No disciple is superior to the teacher; but when fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher. Why do you notice the splinter in your brother's eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own? How can you say to your brother, 'Brother, let me remove that splinter in your eye,' when you do not even notice the wooden beam in your own eye? You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother's eye."

It wasn’t until I got to high school that I learned that not all teachers are created equal. Some teachers I loved a lot while other teachers I loved…um, not a lot. I am 55 years old now and I can still remember some of the lessons they taught us boys at Catholic High School in Little Rock. For example, I will never forget my world history teacher, Mr. Marczuk. He spoke a mile a minute, and it was impossible to take notes and write down everything he said, but he made every class super entertaining.

Whenever he talked about the Danube River in Europe, he would make a fist and say with great authority “The Mighty Danube”! Why? Well, because it practically crosses the entire European continent. Today I make a fist whenever I think of “The Mighty Danube.” But because he talked so fast, he would not notice a small spit wad that was growing larger and larger on the edge of his mouth. One day a student in the front row brought an umbrella to class and opened it, because sometimes the spit wad would fly through the air and hit some poor student.

Another teacher all us students universally admired was Mr. Wells. He taught like Mr. Keating in the movie “Dead Poet’s Society” – very unorthodox (like standing on his desk), but also very effective. One day he told us there is no sense in using deodorant on our armpits to stop sweating. He explained that only causes the sweat to come out on top of your shoulders. I leaned over to a friend and asked, “Is that true?” He shrugged, “I don’t know, dude.”

Another day a bee was buzzing around the classroom and distracting everyone. Mr. Wells scolded us saying, “Stop squealing like little girls! If it comes near you, just stare at the bee and say, ‘If you sting me, you die. If you sting me, you die’” Apparently, if a bee loses its stinger it dies a very short time later. We learned some very memorable lessons in Mr. Wells English class, even if most of it was not about English.

But the best lessons were taught in Fr. Tribou’s sex education class. One day he said, “Boys, French-kissing a girl is like using someone else’s toothbrush.” I felt like, “Ugh, that’s gross.” Now wonder I decided to become a priest! My point is that not all high school teachers are cut from the same cloth. Some teachers touch our lives deeply, and leave a lasting impact. But some rare teachers totally transform our lives forever.

In the gospel today, Jesus also talks about the importance and impact of great teachers. He teaches his own disciples (by the way, disciple means student): “No disciple is superior to the teacher; but when fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher.” Of course, Jesus is not mainly talking about studying subjects like math, or chemistry, or calculus, but rather about religion.

I understand that today religion may not seem very important or practical to you, but in the end religion will be the only subject that will matter. Why do you think all these old people are going to church all the time? They have finally figured out that religion is the most important subject to study. Wouldn’t it be great if you figured that out before you get old?

And by the way, do you know who is your real religion teacher here at OCA? It’s not anyone listed on the OCA website, rather, it is Jesus Christ himself, and his classroom is this church. We could say his textbook is the Bible, and his laboratory is this altar, where we witness the greatest experiment on earth: namely, the transformation – or better the transubstantiation – of mere bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ! Let me see you do that in your chemistry lab!

The most important line in today’s gospel is when Jesus says: “No disciple is superior to the teacher; but when fully trained every disciple will be like his teacher.” That is, once our education in the faith is complete – and our final exam will be the state of our souls when we die – we will be like Jesus, the Son of God. Get that: we mere mortals will be like God. St. Athanasius said it best back in the 4th century: “The Son of God became a son of man so that sons of men could become sons of God.”

In other words, the real laboratory of Jesus’ religion class is not only this altar where he changes bread and wine into his Body and Blood, but the altar of the world, where he changes you into himself. “When fully trained the disciple will be like his Teacher.” All teachers try to touch our lives and make them better. But only One Teacher can transform our lives forever.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

The Initial Introduction

Seeing Mary’s irreplaceable role in salvation history

09/12/2024

Luke 1:39-47 Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said, "Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled." And Mary said: "My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior."

Roman Catholics have an intense love for Mary, but sadly not all Christians share that same affection. Have you seen that bumper sticker that says: “Can’t find Jesus? Look for his Mother”? There was a brief discussion about that bumper sticker on a website called “The Christian Forum.” One person commented: “I saw this bumper sticker today and about ran off the road” followed by a sad face imogee.

Another person remarked more rudely: “I guess it is a Catholic thing referring to Mary. But she is dead, and Jesus is alive. Therefore, it does not make sense to me.” A third person added: “That’s sad that people feel the need to search for the mother of Jesus rather than Jesus himself." Now, I must admit I was shocked at those comments because that bumper sticker makes perfect sense to me, even if it baffles our Protestant brothers and sisters.

Someone else who would have loved that bumper sticker is Elizabeth in the gospel today. Why? Well, because Elizabeth cannot see Jesus, but she can see and hear Mary who brings Jesus to her home. So when Mary fulfills the Second Joyful Mystery today, the Visitation, Elizabeth declares: “For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.” In other words, Jesus is always brought to us through other people, or through the Bible, or through the sacraments, or through a miracle, or through the saints, etc.

We have not yet personally and physically met Jesus but we hope to one day in heaven. On earth, however, we always find Jesus through others – when the sound of their greeting reaches our ears – and there is no one better than his Mother to teach us about her Son. If they are honest enough, even the people commenting on that Christian Forum initially had someone else introduce them to Jesus: a parent, a pastor, a teacher, a coach, etc.

Today is the feast day of the Most Holy Name of Mary. And we honor the fact that Mary was the first person to introduce Jesus to the world. Heck, she even introduced Jesus to St. John the Baptist while John was still in his mother’s womb. John first knew Jesus through Mary. And then, of course, John would introduce Jesus to the Jewish world. And the apostles, in their turn, would let the rest of the world know who Jesus is.

But, you see, Mary was the closest co-worker to Christ making him know to others, and therefore, she enjoyed singular graces like being immaculately conceived. Indeed, if Mary had not said, “Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum” (be it done to me according to your word), no one in the world would have known or met Jesus. And that is why we Catholic honor Mother Mary, because the salvation of the world hangs on her humble response to the angel. Her reply was only possible, of course, thanks to the grace of her Son already operative in her being.

When I was in seminary, they taught us how to celebrate Mass. We were to follow the “rubrics” (literally the red letter words) which indicate when the priest should stand, sit, genuflect, bow, prostrate, etc. But I will never forget that when certain names are uttered in the liturgy, we should slightly bow our heads. Have you noticed some priests doing that? Those are the really good priests – just kidding.

The rubrics tell us to bow our heads when the name of Jesus, or Mary, or the saint of the day is mentioned at Mass. Why? Well, because names are holy and should be revered, especially the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesu Christ, his Blessed Mother, Mary, and the saints who imitated Jesus admirably.

Yes, we have to know, love, and serve Jesus, and him alone. But there are countless people, books, podcasts, sacraments, the Bible, and maybe even this homily, that have all brought Jesus to us. We never would have known him without their introduction, especially that initial introduction when Mary brought him to the world. “Can’t find Jesus? Look for his Mother.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

Coming to Arkansas

How to discern God’s will without distractions

09/10/2024

Lk 6:12-19 Jesus departed to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve, whom he also named Apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James the son of Alphaeus, Simon who was called a Zealot, and Judas the son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor. And he came down with them and stood on a stretch of level ground. A great crowd of his disciples and a large number of the people from all Judea and Jerusalem and the coastal region of Tyre and Sidon came to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and even those who were tormented by unclean spirits were cured. Everyone in the crowd sought to touch him because power came forth from him and healed them all.

Have you heard the story of how Coach John Calipari decided to leave Kentucky and come to Arkansas? Calipari actually talked to a Catholic priest and asked his advice on what to do. He shared at a news conference: “He told me, go for an hour walk and have in your mind you are the Arkansas coach. And then on the way back, that you are the Kentucky coach. And you will see what moves your heart and what you want to do.”

Calipari continued: “I did that. And to be honest, when I thought about coming here and building this program and making it something special, it got me excited." And now every Razorback fan is feeling excited to see what Calipari can do with the future of the basketball program.

That wise priest was helping Coach Calipari do something called “discernment.” That is, trying to figure out God’s will for our life even more than our own will. And that priest knew that God speaks to us in the depths of our hearts, if only we are quiet long enough to listen and hear his voice. Why? Well because distractions are the great enemy of discernment.

The Catechism says essentially the same thing: “His conscience is man’s most secret core and his sanctuary. There he is alone with God whose voice echoes in his depths” (no. 1776). Coach Calipari walked quietly for two hours listening to his heart, while he was alone with God, and he could hear his voice.

In the gospel today Jesus also enters deeply into discernment to hear his Father’s voice before a big decision. We read in Lk 6:12, “Jesus departed to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God.” And what did God the Father tell his Son? Luke continues: “When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve.”

Like Coach Calipari, Jesus also had to choose a team. It is conceivable that Jesus might have chosen another team of more talented recruits: better educated men, more influential in society, renowned leaders, kind of like the Kentucky basketball team! But instead, Jesus chose a team of fishermen, tax-collectors, zealots, and basically nobodies, kind of like the Arkansas basketball team! But notice it was at night, when distractions are asleep, that Jesus heard the Father’s voice loud and clear, to come to Arkansas. Distractions are the great enemy of discernment.

Sooner or later we all have big decisions to make. Maybe it is not a D-1 basketball coaching choice, or selecting the apostles to launch the Catholic Church. For us, it may be the choice of a vocation, like priesthood or whom to marry. It may be choosing a career path and how best to make a difference in the world.

We may have to decide if it’s the right time to retire, and begin a new season of our life. In such times seek some silence and solitude to listen to God’s voice echoing in the depths of your heart. Go for a two-hour walk like Coach Calipari, or spend the night in prayer like Jesus. Remember, though, distractions are the great enemy of discernment.

But beyond the big decisions, we should cultivate a spirit of silence and solitude at regular intervals in our day and week. I have mentioned before how I get up at 4:30 to write my morning homilies (like this one). At that time no one texts me, or calls me, or emails me, heck, even Apollo is still asleep.

And I can more easily discern (hear) the Holy Spirit speaking to me. Another tremendous time to discard distractions is at Adoration of the Most Blessed Sacrament. We have a Holy Hour of Adoration here at I.C. on Wednesday morning from 7:30 to 8:30 a.m., and on Thursday evenings from 6:30 to 7:30 p.m. And St. Boniface has 24-hour Adoration.

My friends, we live in a highly distracted culture, like Coach Calipari does, and like Jesus did. Most people move from one intense experience to the next like a rock thrown and skipping across the surface of a lake but never sinking down deep. Therefore, we tragically treat distractions not as an enemy but like our closest friend. And then discernment becomes impossible, and we don’t come to Arkansas.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Suddenly Everyone Can Sing

Seeing how Jesus opens the mouth of the universe

09/08/2024

Mk 7:31-37 Again Jesus left the district of Tyre and went by way of Sidon to the Sea of Galilee, into the district of the Decapolis. And people brought to him a deaf man who had a speech impediment and begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him off by himself away from the crowd. He put his finger into the man’s ears and, spitting, touched his tongue; then he looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, “Ephphatha!”— that is, “Be opened!” — And immediately the man’s ears were opened, his speech impediment was removed, and he spoke plainly. He ordered them not to tell anyone. But the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it. They were exceedingly astonished and they said, “He has done all things well. He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”

This past Tuesday a parishioner suggested I do something I swore I would never do again. He wanted me to give the exact same homily I did last Tuesday on this Sunday. But the reason I swore never to do that again was because I did that about 20 years ago at St. Edwards in Little Rock. It was December and I was swamped with work and had no time to prepare a Sunday sermon.

In desperation I decided to use the exact same sermon from a year earlier. I figured no one pays attention at Mass and just sleeps during the homily anyway, so no one will even notice. After Mass, though, I was greeting people and a man walked by with a big smile on his face saying, “Fr. John, that homily sure sounded familiar…” I was so embarrassed I swore never to do that again.

Well, I am not going to deliver last Tuesday’s homily lock-stock-and-barrel again, but I would like to revisit its main theme, namely, to sing God’s praises in church. And today’s gospel even invites this revisitation. How so? Well, Jesus cures a deaf and mute man by saying, “Ephphatha!” meaning “Be opened!” And by the way a lot more mouths were opened than Jesus expected. That is, not only is the mute man able to speak but Jesus heals everyone’s spiritual speech impediment because suddenly everyone started talking about Jesus’ miraculous healing.

As you probably know the Old Testament reading is always closely connected to the gospel passage. There is an obvious overlap. So, in Isaiah 35:6 we read, “Then the tongue of the mute will sing.” In other words, when Jesus the Messiah comes he will cure people’s speech impediments: both those who cannot speak as well as those who can speak (but don’t want to) will finally sing God’s praises. So, there’s your encore presentation of last Tuesday’s homily in a nutshell.

But if you look a little closer at today’s gospel you will discover subtle but significant baptismal imagery that also touches on opening our mouths to sing God’s praises. Where? Well, in order to heal the deaf and mute man, Jesus places his finger in the man’s ear and touches his tongue with another finger. Incidentally, if you have attended a Baptism recently, you may recall the priest or deacon making that exact same gesture by touching the baby’s ears and lips with his fingers.

And then the minister directly alludes to today’s gospel from Mark 7, saying: “The Lord Jesus made the deaf hear and the mute speak. May he soon touch your ears to receive his word and your mouth to proclaim his faith, to the praise and glory of God the Father.” In other words, the main reason God gave us ears is to hear his Word, and the real reason he gave us a tongue is to sing his praises. And we fulfill that twofold purpose of hearing the Word and singing God’s praised never better than in the liturgy at Mass. Yet tragically, most Catholics don’t sing. We are clueless to why we have ears and tongues.

My friends, I know nothing I say in this homily will change anyone’s mind about music and singing at Mass. Those who love to sing will continue to belt it out, and those who suffer from a spiritual speech impediment will continue to be zip-lip. And in a sense, that is okay, because whatever we fail to figure out here on earth, we will spend more time in purgatory to perfect. The angels and saints will not tolerate people with speech impediments in heaven. That’s why Jesus cured the deaf-mute on earth.

Nonetheless, let me leave you with this one thought. The same Catholics who on Sunday stand stoically at Mass with their arms crossed over their chest and their lips sealed with super glue, are the same Razorback fans who on Saturday called the Hogs against OSU. With all their strength they sang, “Woooooooo, pig sooie, Razorbacks!” Suddenly on Saturdays Catholics can sing!

Or, if you are a soccer fan, you would happily put your arms on the shoulders of perfect strangers and chant, “Ole, ole, ole, ole, ole!” when someone scores a goal, and soccer fans even sway back and forth while they sing. We sing and dance with all our might on Saturday like the angels and saints do on Sunday.

But my friends, make no mistake. One day – maybe only on the last day – we will sing and dance on Sunday too. And so will all creation, when Jesus pronounces those two words from the gospel over a deaf and mute universe, “Ephphatha! Be opened!” And then, even the rocks and the trees, the mountains and the meadows will be healed of their speech impediment and sing God’s praises.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

So Sing

Understanding the importance of liturgical singing

09/03/2024

Lk 4:31-37 Jesus went down to Capernaum, a town of Galilee. He taught them on the sabbath, and they were astonished at his teaching because he spoke with authority. In the synagogue there was a man with the spirit of an unclean demon, and he cried out in a loud voice, "What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are–the Holy One of God!" Jesus rebuked him and said, "Be quiet! Come out of him!" Then the demon threw the man down in front of them and came out of him without doing him any harm. They were all amazed and said to one another, "What is there about his word? For with authority and power he commands the unclean spirits, and they come out." And news of him spread everywhere in the surrounding region.

Roman Catholics have a phobia for singing in church, and I believe that is a great tragedy. In fact, back in 1990 Thomas Day wrote a book on the subject called, “Why Catholic Can’t Sing.” A little evidence for this allegation is that ever since I decided we would no longer have hymns at the 7:30 a.m. Sunday Mass, it has become the most popular weekend Mass in English!

Naturally, not singing makes the Mass shorter so that is a double bonus for the smart shopper looking for quick Sunday Mass. One strategy I use to get Catholics to sing is I sing loudly so I drown out everyone else, so maybe people might sing because no one can hear their voice. Unfortunately that strategy has not been a raging success.

But why is not singing such a tragedy? Firstly, C. S. Lewis said that the two things we will not find in hell are music and silence. The practical upshot of that observation is that if we do not cultivate both singing and silence in the liturgy we may feel quite at home in hell. Put differently, music and silence at Mass is preparing us for what we will find in heaven. The first reason to sing, therefore, is so we will feel at home in heaven.

Secondly, the Scriptures are replete with music and song. An entire Old Testament book is nothing but hymns, namely, the 150 Psalms. And the book of Revelation shows that singing is one of the principal ways the angels and saints worship God in heaven, especially Rv 4, 5, and 19. In other words, the charge that Catholics can’t sing is quite serious. It puts us on a fast track to hell and makes us miss a major message of the Bible.

But there is a third reason why not singing is positively criminal, and that is because spiritual singing drives away the demons. And that makes sense since if music is the matter of heaven and cacophony is the cause of hell, then demons will flee back to hell when confronted with liturgical music. This driving out demons is precisely why King David was renowned for his singing and is often depicted in art holding a harp, the source of his royal authority.

We read in 1 Samuel 16:23 another way David served King Saul (besides dispatching Goliath): “And it came to pass, when the evil spirit came upon Saul, David would take the harp and play, and Saul would be relieved and feel better, for the evil spirit would leave him.” That is, liturgical music is a powerful weapon against evil spirits, like a sling and stone against spiritual giants.

Now, perhaps, we can perceive more profoundly what is happening in the gospel today. Jesus drives out an evil spirit. But notice how the people of Capernaum react. They say: “What is there about his word? For with authority and power he commands the unclean spirits.” I am convinced that those unclean spirits heard the music and silence of heaven echoing in Jesus’ words, and they fled for their lives back to the pandemonium of hell.

Today we celebrate the feast of Pope St. Gregory the Great. He lived from 540 to 604, and was a saintly pope, a brilliant theologian, and an accomplished administrator. But perhaps his most enduring legacy is the renewal of the liturgy and especially liturgical music, appropriately called “Gregorian chant,” named for him. Because Pope Gregory was so conversant in Scripture and steeped in tradition, he understood the power of liturgical sing – like David and Jesus – and encouraged Catholics to sing in order to tap into that spiritual energy.

Pope Gregory would be appalled there could ever be written a book called “Why Catholics Can’t Sing.” My friends, every time Catholics refuse to sing at Mass we fail to understand the Scriptures, we miss out on the source of spiritual power over evil, and we will feel like strangers in heaven. So, sing, darn it!

Praised be Jesus Christ!

 

Close to the End

Seeing human labor as a way to please God

09/02/2024

LK 4:16-30 Jesus came to Nazareth, where he had grown up, and went according to his custom into the synagogue on the sabbath day. He stood up to read and was handed a scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He unrolled the scroll and found the passage where it was written: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord. Rolling up the scroll, he handed it back to the attendant and sat down, and the eyes of all in the synagogue looked intently at him. He said to them, “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” And all spoke highly of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They also asked, “Is this not the son of Joseph?” He said to them, “Surely you will quote me this proverb, ‘Physician, cure yourself,’ and say, ‘Do here in your native place the things that we heard were done in Capernaum.’” And he said, “Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place.” When the people in the synagogue heard this, they were all filled with fury. They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl him down headlong. But he passed through the midst of them and went away.

A keynote speaker at a religious convention came to the podium. He shuffled his notes for a moment, scanned the audience, and said thoughtfully, “Where to begin? Where to begin?” A voice in the crowd yelled, “As close to the end as possible!” A know a few parishioners who would like to yell that when I get in the pulpit and start one of my dreaded homily series.

In the gospel today Jesus returns to his home town of Nazareth and delivers a sermon “as close to the end as possible” because it consists of only one sentence. He reads from the scroll of Isaiah chapter 61, and then states solemnly: “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” Now, the gist of Jesus’ meaning might escape us, but not the first century people of Nazareth who heard him. Why not?

Well, Jesus was appropriating to himself the title of the long-awaited Messiah, and he couldn’t have done it with any clearer ascription than by saying he was fulfilling Isaiah 61. That is, Jesus’ sermon was “as close to the end as possible” because he was announcing the end of waiting for the Messiah. But Jesus also knew his brief homily would cause consternation and confrontation and even echo the end of his mission as the Messiah. How so?

Well, the people are offended with his way of being the Messiah and try to kill him by attempting to throw him over the brow of the hill to execute him. In that sense, Jesus’ homily was also “as close to the end as possible” because from the first day of his ministry he had a premonition of the last day of his ministry, his death on the cross.

Today is Labor Day in the United States and I feel that Jesus’ short sermon can give us some insights on how we should approach our jobs and careers, our human labor. That is, most of us get jobs because we hope to make a lot of money and retire as early as possible. Our first day on the job we are thinking about our last day on the job, and how to get there as fast as possible. As Loverboy sang, “Everybody’s working for the weekend.”

However, that approach sees work as only a necessary evil which we wish we could live without. But a better approach would be seeing work as a necessary good for our own growth in holiness. In other words, just like Jesus’ ministry as the Messiah – the work the Father had assigned to Jesus – was how Jesus fulfilled the Father’s will, and grew in wisdom, age and grace, so our work is one important way we fulfill God’s will for our lives.

That is, the main reason we get up and go to work is not principally to make a lot of money, to please our boss, or retire early, but so that we can please God. We work for God more than we work for ourselves. I went to dinner last night with Jordan and Will Smith, and Jordan articulated this notion of working for God beautifully.

She had invited her parents and her siblings for supper. After dinner we sat around talking about what Jordan was doing for work, and how she helps non-profit organizations to raise funds. But she made this sharp comment, looking at her parents, “Mom and dad, you worked at jobs you did not necessarily like so we children could get jobs we find more fulfilling.” I think most parents do that.

In other words, instead of merely “working for the weekend” because our job feels like a necessary evil; we should approach work as a “necessary good” which we offer to God to please him and in some small way contribute to the building up of the Kingdom of God, like Jordan was doing.

And we can really work this way no matter what title we have on our company name badge: doctor, lawyer or Indian Chief, as my high school history teacher used to say. All honest human labor can be done to please God and not others or even ourselves. And if we work this way – to please God first and foremost – we, too, can begin “as close to the end as possible.” How so?

Because even at work we will already be doing on earth what the angels are doing for eternity in heaven, namely, pleasing God, or doing the Father’s will. My friends, whether we are clocking in for our first day, or clocking out on our last day, we should begin with the end in mind, as close to the end as possible, namely, to please God.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Bigger than our Brains

Seeing the great humility of St. Augustine

08/28/2024

Matthew 23:8-12 Jesus spoke to his disciples: "Do not be called 'Rabbi.' You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers. Call no one on earth your father; you have but one Father in heaven. Do not be called 'Master'; you have but one master, the Christ. The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted."

I am going to commit a terrible injustice today on the feast of St. Augustine by trying to cover his remarkable life in an eight minute homily. St. Augustine is arguably one of the greatest lights in Church history, like a Michael Jordan in basketball or a Johann Sebastian Bach in music.

The historian Dairmaid MacCulloch observed: “Augustine’s impact on Western Christian thought can hardly be overstated; only his beloved example, Paul of Tarsus, has been more influential, and Westerners have generally seen Paul through Augustine’s eyes.” But I would suggest to you that Augustine’s brilliance and holiness was only surpassed by his humility.

I want to share three Augustinian anecdotes (stories) that shed a bright light on his humility. The first anecdote Augustine recounted himself in his famous book Confessions. Only the Bible has been translated into more languages than the Confessions. One day in the year 386 Augustine had wandered into a garden in the home where he was staying.

He distinctly heard a child’s voice saying in Latin “Tolle lege, tolle, lege” meaning “Take up and read.” Now, at the time Augustine was a renowned teacher of rhetoric at the prestigious school in Milan and had found the Bible unimpressive and not worth his time. But this time he humbly listened to this child’s voice and began to read the sacred page.

It was as if scales fell from his eyes and he began to perceive how the Scriptures were written primarily not by men but by the hand of the Holy Spirit. In fact, if you read the Latin-English version of the Confessions, you will find in the margins that nearly every other sentence is an allusion to Scripture.

In other words, only after learning from a humble child could Augustine begin to learn the wisdom of God. Every time we pass over reading the Bible to read supposedly "better books" because we feel the Bible is below our intelligence, St. Augustine would caution us not to be too smart for our own good.

The second Augustinian anecdote is while the Doctor of Grace (how tradition refers to Augustine) was working on his magnum opus, his masterpiece, the De Trinitate, on the Holy Trinity. Augustine was attempting to unravel the most dense and most central mystery of the Christian faith.

How can God be essentially one, and yet remain three distinct divine Persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit? Feeling like his brain was tied like a pretzel, he decided to go for a walk along the seashore to get some fresh air and some fresh inspiration. And he got both, but not exactly as he expected.

While walking along the shore, Augustine saw a little boy hurriedly running back and forth from the water to a hole he had dug in the sand. Watching this little boy carrying water from the ocean to his little hole, Augustine asked him what on earth he was doing. The boy replied he was trying to pour the ocean into the small hole.

Augustine smiled and said, “Son, that is impossible.” The boy smiled back and said, “That is no more impossible than you trying to fit the mystery of the Holy Trinity into your mind.” And the small boy suddenly disappeared. Augustine got the point. It is very telling that of his many memorable writings, St. Augustine never finished his De Trinitate, perhaps it was a humble acknowledgement that God is always bigger than our brains.

And the third Augustinian anecdote is my favorite of all because I once visited the place where it happened. St. Augustine retells the touching story of the final days before his mother died in Ostia, outside of Rome. Mother and son sat by a window overlooking the coast, and talked of what the life of the blessed souls would be like in heaven. Augustine said he felt transported to heaven with his mother.

Of course, you will remember how Monica prayed for her wayward son Augustine for 30 years before he finally converted whole-heartedly to Christianity. For a loving mother like Monica, I bet she felt like she was already in heaven having her saintly son at her side.

And it takes a huge dose of humility for arrogant boys to listen and learn from their mothers. And Augustine humbly learned a lot from his mother, whose feast day we celebrated fittingly yesterday, August 27. I can attest that as a stubborn teenager I found it hard to listen and learn from my mom. But today it seems I learn something new every time she opens her mouth.

In the gospel today, Jesus urges humility in his Church leaders. Instead of being called “rabbi” or “teacher” or “father” – all titles that St. Augustine could rightly claim – Jesus urges us to be humble servants. Why? Because “whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” St. Augustine’s greatness can hardly be overstated, but his chief virtue was his tremendous humility.

Praised be Jesus Christ!