Weekend Homilies
Did you hear something that resonated with you? Are you looking to reflect on the weekend homily?
The homily will be made available here in both written and audio form some time during the following week. Click on the links below to take you to a specific homily.
The homily will be made available here in both written and audio form some time during the following week. Click on the links below to take you to a specific homily.
second SUNDAY OF ADVENT
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Second Sunday of Advent
December 4, 2022 Maybe I’m just getting older, but has the weather been wild these last weeks or what?! How many times have we moved 20, 30 even 40-degrees in a matter of hours. One day people are out golfing in shorts and a day later they’re wearing their parkas. One day we’re in short-sleeves putting up Christmas decorations and the next day we’re chasing our Christmas decorations down the block in 50 mile-per-hour winds. Winter in the Midwest demands a great deal of endurance and a lot of encouragement. Endurance and encouragement- Clearly, it is not only winters in the Midwest that demand these gifts; one short perusal of the news will call for the same. And not to be outdone by violence and politics and hateful rhetoric, now the church is leading us “into the deep,” challenging even the most solid of the faithful to respond with the same endurance and encouragement. Many generations ago, Isaiah foretold a day when the wolf would be the invited guest of the lamb, and the leopard would lie down in peace with the kid. The day will come, he promised, when the calf and the young lion would browse together, and the cow and the bear would be neighbors, their young resting together. Those days that Isaiah predicted with such grace and poetry seems today as distant a dream as when they were first proclaimed, don’t they? And yet we know those words are not the empty words of a poetic dreamer; they are the promise of God. They were proclaimed as some fairytale world that can’t exist; they were voiced on behalf of the very God who created this world. So, what stands in the way of this harmonious living that Isaiah foretold? What keeps this prophecy from being more than empty words of ancient promise? What keeps that “day” from happening? Faith leads us to believe that God has not abandoned us or gone back on his promise. He sent the One of wisdom and understanding, the One of counsel and strength, the One of all knowledge. God, himself, came to fulfill the prophecy. What it means is that we have not yet welcomed the one God has sent; not really, not fully. We are, in many of our ways, no different than the brood of vipers that John denounced in the desert. We are in need of a baptism, not of water, but of spirit. There is still winnowing and threshing and burning to happen. There are still crooked paths to be made straight, sins to be acknowledged. There is still a need for repentance. There is work to be done. What it means is that God is not done with us. It seems, then, that perhaps the best thing we could do in this Advent Season is to set aside our agendas, our answers, our ways and let God do what God has intended to do from the beginning. Perhaps what Advent calls us to is to get out of the way and give the space and the power and the authority and the judgment to the One who has already come. Maybe this Advent might give us the courage to give a clear path to the One who is willing to come again and again and again, willing to keep working on our hearts and souls, willing to keep working in our communities and in our world. Centuries ago Paul wrote a prayer of blessing to the Church of Rome; it seems to be a perfect blessing for us, yet today: “May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to think in harmony with one another, in keeping with Christ Jesus, that with one accord you may with one voice glorify God.” |
Audio Recording
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FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT
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First Sunday of Advent
November 27, 2022 Do you ever find yourself living in anticipation, not for something, but just for something to be over? There is so much preparation, so much anticipation, so much that needs to be done prior to a meeting, to an event, to a celebration, to a game, to a holiday that when it finally arrives, you kind of breathe a sigh of relief. Like, “Whew…that’s behind us. And then it’s on to the next thing on the calendar.” Not a healthy way of living, for sure. And, unfortunately, that kind of living can overtake our Advent, as well. There is so much to do, so much to prepare for, so many details to tend to, so much planning for Christmas, that when December 26 arrives all we do is breathe a sigh of relief. The tree comes down, the wrapping paper goes out in the trash, the leftovers are divided up, we shake off the tinsel with a “Whew… that’s behind us!” It’s not a good way to live in anticipation and certainly not the way we want to enter into these weeks of Advent. So, how do we get out of that mentality, out of that mode of just getting through the day or the season or the holiday or the event? How do we move beyond the sprint of these four weeks and wrap our heads around Advent and life in another way, not simply a way to prepare for Christmas, but to prepare for the day when there is no “next event,” the day of eternity? Isaiah, the poet of the prophets, gave me an insight this week. He gives us the image of the mountain of the Lord, the place where God dwells. Here, in the holy city of Jerusalem, was the temple, the dwelling of God. It is here, Isaiah, says, that all the tribes will come. “Let us go rejoicing,” we sang out in the psalm, “to the house of the Lord.” Imagine a satellite view of this: tribes of people coming from every corner of the known earth, merging together within the many valleys that surrounded the mountain. Generational families, young and old, all merging on the roads; tribes that are sometimes even at war with each other, but now all coming together, like tributaries of water forming streams of people and then rivers of humanity, all flowing toward the holy mountain, the city of Jerusalem. Praying for each other, praying with each other with one common goal: to come to the house of the Lord. Transition that image, my friends, into another image, not of the multitude of tribes of humanity, but of the many parts of ourselves and ask: Are they all leading us to God? Our relationships within our family members, our friendships and work relationships, how we spend our money, how we give our money away. Are they all leading to deepen our relationship with Christ? Our priorities that wiggle their way into our calendars, our social lives (or lack thereof), what we read and what we repeat: Where does all this lead us? Does our use of our time, our energy, our intellect lead us closer to God? How about the music we listen to, the movies we watch, what we google and stream into our devices? What about the care we give to our own bodies, tending to our mental health, our physical health, our spiritual health? If we had to present our credit card bill or bank statement: would it reflect in any way our journey to Christ? Maybe asked another way: if anyone was joining me on my journey, would I be helping them find their way to Christ? All the tribes were joining together on their journey to the holy mountain. Is every part of our lives aimed in the right direction? Are we on the right path? Because in the end, there is only one journey, one event that we must be concerned about: the event that will never end - the day of eternity. Fr. Gary Krahenbuhl |
Audio Recording
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Thanksgiving
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THANKSGIVING 11/24/2022 Mountains of mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, homemade stuffing, turkey or ham, or maybe both, cranberry sauce, cole slaw, rolls and biscuits, desserts galore, along with pumpkin pie and whipped cream or ice cream. Are you hungry yet? And that’s just the start. Card games, board games, outside throwing the pigskin around, or maybe in an easy chair watching others throwing the pigskin around (and probably getting a nap in also). Others in their blaze orange hoping to fill the freezer with some good roasts and deer sausage. All this and more while some are cleaning the kitchen and divvying up the leftovers. Conversation, jokes, memories, little ones in their excitement interrupting adult relaxation time. The wonderful joys of Thanksgiving. Makes all the preparation and driving worth it, doesn’t it? A far cry from 1621 when the settlers in Plymouth celebrated their first successful harvest with the Wampanoag natives…the genesis of Today’s Thanksgiving. A lot has happened in our country in these last 401 years. We grew into and became the “United States of America”. Sadly, we are anything but “united”. After a rocky human history reflected in our Old Testament, our “Catholic Thanksgiving” began with Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist and the husband of Elizabeth. On the 8th day after John was born, when Zechariah and Elizabeth were bringing him to the temple to consecrate him to God, Zechariah, inspired by the Holy Spirit, spoke in part his canticle: “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” And sadly, as in our country, we have not yet reached that “way of peace”. NOT YET. We are on our way though as Paul reminded us: “Jesus Christ will keep you firm to the end…God is faithful.” And, God has a plan. The Holy Spirit works now, every day in every way. The inspiration didn’t end with Zechariah, or Jesus’ resurrection, or the Apostles. That very inspiration and guidance of the Holy Spirit is right here, right now, in our laps. Bishop Hying, our Pastors, many of us faithful Catholics knew that we must do “something” to grow God’s kingdom because what we have been doing for a long time is not working well. You’ve all read Bishop Hying’s Strategic Plan, INTO THE DEEP, right? (How many times have you read it? 4) We have such an opportunity now to get back on that road to the way of peace. Yep, it will take work, compromise, acceptance of change, maybe some heartache, and welcoming of new people into our newly forming pastorate. Fr. Gary told us about the woman he sees that likes to pinch herself each morning. How did that work, Fr. Gary? (He reminds us). I have a little different thing I do with our people in Tivoli and Heritage House. We chat a bit before our Communion service, I talk about good things, maybe the sunny day, perhaps a joke and then I ask with my two thumbs up…ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD DAY?? Usually, except for those that are snoozing, the thumbs go up and smiles are on their faces. Ten lepers asked for healing; all were healed. One came back to thank and praise our Jesus. For many reasons my reflection tells me the other 9 were very grateful, but just didn’t come back to thank and praise our God. Jesus only asked where the other 9 were, voicing no condemnation at all. Fr.Gary reminds us almost every Sunday of the limitless and deep love God has for us. I believe Jesus found a way to touch these other 9…we just don’t know the story. It’s Thanksgiving. This holiday is rooted deeply in all of us. With our God, with our family and friends, we remember our past good times, memories, and promises. For all that is good now, we are grateful. For all that is yet to come, we are filled with hope. For all of this WE GIVE THANKS!
Deacon Steve Letourneaux |
Audio Recording
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Our Lord Christ the king, of the universe
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Our Lord, Jesus Christ, King of the Universe
November 20, 2022 Tobin Cornelius Rote. Do you remember him? Before Aaron Rodgers, Brett Farve, Lynn Dickey, Don Majkowski, and Bart Starr, and a few others, Tobin Rote led the Green Bay Packers as quarterback for seven seasons. In 1956, he also led the league in pass completions, pass attempts, passing yards, passing touchdowns, rushing attempts, rushing yards, and rushing touchdowns. And today, virtually no one remembers his name. Once a king of quarterbacks, now overshadowed and forgotten by the next generation of Green Bay fans. And so it goes. One day, a generation from now, maybe two, Bart and Don and Brett and Aaron will also be forgotten, replaced by the next and the best. And so it goes. With politicians, business leaders, musicians and coaches; with pastors, parents and matriarchs and patriarchs. All, someday, give way to the next generation to take up their role, offer their gifts, enjoying their moment of glory. That is not to diminish our particular roles and gifts and moments! Not at all! The world depends upon each and every one of us doing our part. But the point of our feast today, the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the King of the Universe, is simply to remind us: there is only one King that endures forever, Jesus Christ. The Church, by this feast, reminds us of that truth, lest our own egos or the egos of our today-leaders forget. It is also worthwhile remembering a few things about the Kingship of Christ: First – He was a point of unity. Like a quarterback who leads the team or a parent that leads a family; like a pope who leads the church or a chief that leads a department. In the lineage and image of King David, the greatest king the Israelites had known, Jesus came to unite, not only the people of Israel, but all people of every race and language and tongue, of every time and generation. The quality of leadership is forever measured in unity. As St. Paul reminds us, “In him, all things hold together.” Second – He held people to the highest standards but always forgave them for their imperfections. The cross stands as a sign of victory, not as a weapon of force but a force of forgiveness, the ultimate power of mercy, the final promise of all who sin. “Today,” he told his fellow crucified, “you will be with me in paradise.” My friends, if we take those two simple qualities of the King of the Universe: Unity and Mercy, and make them our own, it would seem that we would be operating in the best of the kingdoms. If those two qualities, unity and mercy, became the mission of whatever earthly kingdom in which we operate, it would seem that we are doing the will of God. Of this we can be sure: The world will one day forget us. That’s just a fact of life. But if those two simple qualities of the King of the Universe become our mantra of life, we can be assured that Jesus will not forget us. On the day we utter our final plea, we will hear those same words: “Today, you will be with me in Paradise.” Fr. Gary Krahenbuhl |
Audio Recording
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33rd Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 13, 2022 A wise pastor once told me that if you start repeating stories you’ve been in a parish too long or you are getting old! So, if you’ve heard this story before you can blame it on either -I’ve been here too long or I’m old - but this remains one of my most memorable moments of my priesthood. Ruby Bonds was an African-American woman who lived well into her nineties. I was visiting with her in her home one day many years ago and asked her how things were going. She responded with the most wonderful statement in her lovely southern-black voice: “Father, every morning the first thing I do is pinch myself. If it hurts I say, ‘Get up old woman; God’s given ya ‘nother day.’” We’re all going to die. But we’re not dead, at least not yet. God has given us another day! Both are good things for us to remember. One day…someday…we will die; the world as we know it is going to end. Jesus, like Malachi and all the great prophets that came before him, never hid that truth. It might be by war or insurrection or powerful earthquakes, by famine or plagues or persecution. It might be cancer or a heart attack or an accident or simply old age, but we are all going to die. But today we are alive; God has given us another day. What Jesus and the great prophets that came before him did was to prepare us for that moment of death by teaching us how to live this day. There is something to be said about living fully every day with the anticipation of the end. There is even something quite holy and hopeful about it. But how do you get there? Paul gave two bits of advice to the church of Thessalonica that might seem kind of silly or naive, but I think they are filled with great wisdom: Work quietly. Eat your own food. Work quietly. There is work to be done. I don’t think that anyone could hold a valid argument that the world is exactly as we want it, that our family relationships and international relationships are where they could be, that we are living and loving the way we are called to live and love. I am quite certain that the church is far from what God intends us to be. And contrary to what many politicians and CEO’s and church leaders would like us to believe, the best work is not that which happens in high profile offices but in the everyday labors of the women and men of our communities, with us. Teachers and nurses and janitors and musicians, people who wait on tables and those who check us out at the store, retirees and students, as mothers and fathers and grandparents and neighbors and friends. This is where God’s work quietly and consistently happens: around our kitchen tables and in our schools, when we drive and when we wait in line. We have work to do. And eat your own food. Simple advice that Paul gave his people to stay on track. Much of what we can do to live in anticipation of tomorrow and whatever tomorrow brings is to live simply, prudently, and graciously. Greed is the destroyer of tomorrow. When we live beyond our means, desire more than what we need or live in envy of what others have and when we steal off of other’s plates, we destroy the balance and harmony of the community. Don’t worry about how much more everyone else has on their plate; eat your own food. It makes for a more peaceful table. I took Ruby’s advice this morning. It hurt. I’ve got another day. So do you. |
Audio Recording
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32nd Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 6, 2022 A little prelude to the first reading today: It’s an Old Testament reading from the Second Book of Maccabees. It was written about a hundred and fifty years before Jesus was born, a time of great persecution of the Hebrew race, the Jewish people. People were being tortured and killed; cities were destroyed; the temple had been defiled; it was a time when hope was thin. The Book of Maccabbees was a work of literature written to give hope back to the people of Israel at this time and to inflict a little fear into the conquering armies so that they knew that God—the God of Israel—was not about to abandon his people. It was written to inspire and remind people that the story was not finished. God was with them. The entire seventh chapter, of which we only get a few snippets in our first reading, is about a woman and her seven sons who were being cruelly tortured by the king. The king was trying to get them to eat pork, to transgress the laws of their faith. One by one, her sons were cruelly tortured. But one by one they refused the king’s attempts to get them to turn their back to the God of Israel. One by one they died, all as their mother watched. Finally, she met the same fate. Yet even in the face of that inhuman experience, she never stopped encouraging her sons; none ever lost faith. They knew that whatever they suffered in this life would pale in comparison to what awaited them in the resurrection. --------------------------------Homily--------------------------- There are some things that God did not reveal to us (and I have to assume) on purpose, like what heaven will be like. Artists have attempted but are limited by their imaginations. Song writers can write music that can lift our hearts and spirits heavenward but they can’t come close to reveal eternal life. Authors have told stories but words are limited to capture the fullness of eternal life. Even the best of the best theologians are limited by the lack of revelation of God and limitations of their own minds. There’s a reason for that - because nothing, nothing in the vast gifts of this world, could possibly come close to what heaven is. God knows that. We are the ones who keep forgetting. So, we keep asking same old questions: Do you think our pets go to heaven? Do you think we are old or young when we get up there? Will we recognize our loved ones who have gone before us? Will there be food in heaven? Will all our questions be answered? Or, as in today’s gospel: “Whose wife will she be?” Can’t you just picture Jesus putting his head into his hands and wondering, “Where do they come up with this stuff?!” Resurrection is based upon the eternal nature of God. We can’t fully imagine it or describe it because it cannot be contained in our mortal nature. It is so far beyond us that we can’t legitimately capture it. So, we are left to sing about it and paint it and talk about it and ponder it. But we’ll never get it. God has not revealed it to us…yet. What God has revealed to us, is that we must prepare for it now by how we live in this world. The seven brothers and their mother stood with courage as martyrs not because they were the bravest souls of the land but because they trusted that whatever they had on earth, even their suffering, would pale in comparison to the glories they were about to receive in heaven. We must live our lives remembering by remembering what will last forever and what cannot, by keeping in perspective what is of this world and what is not. We must use our limited and measurable time wisely and generously because time will have no value in the kingdom of heaven. We must remember that the treasures of this earth may, indeed, provide some sense of security (perhaps) and will offer some pleasure (however fleeting) in our earthly journey but in the kingdom of heaven earthly treasure has no place; where all is complete and all is fulfilled. But how we use our talents and gifts on this earth matters greatly. God has not revealed the fullness of the kingdom that awaits us when we die for a reason. For that we must wait. But without doubt, God has revealed how we are to live on this earth. That is what we can paint with generosity and sing with loving charity and write with compassion for the poor and the tell the story of faith in our good works. Until the day of eternity. |
Audio Recording
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31st Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time October 30, 2022 - INTO THE DEEP One of our fourth-graders said this week that she wishes I’d quit talking about INTO THE DEEP at Mass because it’s boring. Well…boring as it may sound, I assure you, it is and will be anything but boring when it all comes to be. So, sorry: one more weekend If you have missed either of the last two weekends, I urge you to go to the Diocese of Madison website for more information. I’ll also be sending out a Flocknote this week, again. It will contain a lot of background information and, as important, the opportunity for you to sign up for further information coming from the Diocese as well as offer opportunities for your feedback. It is going to take all of us to be willing to reimagine our parish structures and embrace a new model for parish life; we must be willing to let go of some things that keep us from following Jesus with continued courage and generosity. We will have to work together in new ways with other parishes, and commit to renewing the culture and priorities within our parish. If we do all of that, we believe that the INTO THE DEEP vision is attainable across the Diocese of Madison. Having said this, I would like to offer a brief sketch of this new model that is being developed and discerned. • Currently, there are 102 parishes and 135 churches in the Diocese of Madison. Remember that a parish and a church are two different things. A parish is a community of the faithful typically within a geographical boundary, while a church is a sacred building within a parish territory where people gather to celebrate Masses and weddings and funerals. As such, every parish has at least 1 church to serve the needs of the people within that parish, but a parish may also have more than 1 church (for example: St. Faustina Parish has two churches – one in Pardeeville and one in Buffalo Township.) • Under this new model our 102 parishes will be initially reorganized into approximately 30 “pastorates” or groupings of parishes. Each of these 30 (or so) “pastorates” will be led by a single Pastor, with other priests working alongside him. So, each pastorate will have a small “team of priests” - plus a unified group of lay employees and deacons working together to serve the needs of their parishioners. The number “30” allows for a stable/sustainable model for decades into the future to provide for the needs of the faithful. • In early November, the diocese will offer the plan that has been developed and will seek your feedback about these proposed “pastorates” and the model as a whole. As such, if you have good ideas to contribute, you are encouraged to share them with the diocese when the public feedback phase begins in November. Following this period of public feedback and continued refinement, the “pastorates” will be finalized sometime in January or February of 2023. Next summer, parishes will officially start working together as “pastorates” and new priest assignments will begin. • Between July of 2023 and the summer of 2024, the parishes within each of the pastorates will begin the process to merge into a single canonical parish. A merger is like a marriage, where previously separate entities become one with a shared or common life together. So, by the summer of 2024 and through the merger process we will have approximately 30 new parishes in the Diocese of Madison with 135 churches, school buildings and rectories. • Following these mergers and the formation of these new canonical parishes, each parish will then have to prayerfully and prudently discern at the local level which of their churches or other buildings are no longer needed or helpful in their proclaiming and living out the Gospel and the mission of the Church. If it is determined by the pastor -in consultation with parish leadership groups, and after considering other available options- that one or more of their buildings would be a grave burden and should no longer be used without causing harm to the good of souls, then they will seek the Bishop’s permission, with due consultation, and receive guidance from the diocese about how to properly close/repurpose/sell the respective buildings. Any money that is received from the sale of a building will remain locally with the parish to be used at their discretion; the diocese does not receive this money. And they will also have to work together at unifying their Mass times, programs and activities, and leadership groups with the goal of building a stronger Catholic community together than if they were to have remained apart. So, while it may sound boring, clearly, the next several years will be anything but boring in our diocese. May God guide us, may He bless us, may He strengthen us, and may He help all of us in the Diocese of Madison to follow Him as committed missionary disciples. Our hope is that by coming together and collaborating in new ways we will be able to more effectively and fruitfully: 1) follow Jesus; 2) reclaim Sunday as the Sabbath; 3) bring those who have lost connection with their church or faith back into the fold; 5) form strong leaders within parishes; and 6) serve neighbors both now and well into the future. |
Audio Recording
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30TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Into the Deep Homily
October 22 & 23, 2022 Last weekend I spoke about Into the Deep – the Diocese of Madison’s Strategic Plan to move our parishes from maintenance to mission. It is obvious that we are facing some significant challenges, which requires a significant and bold solution. This is especially true if we are going to stop the practice of simply managing decline, and build a healthier and holier reality for future generations of family and faithful. So, to begin: why? – why are we embarking upon this arduous journey together throughout the diocese? 1. The resources (clergy, human, financial, structural, etc.) of our diocese and parishes are no longer well aligned for the sake of our essential mission to keep the Gospel of Jesus Christ alive in our families and communities. 2. The steep decline in people celebrating the sacraments and regularly attending Mass are signs of a deep spiritual crisis, and COVID has only accelerated this crisis. As our society has become more secular, religious belief and practice have substantially declined. 4. Families today face increasing challenges and pressures, and we are inadequately helping them to live as “the domestic church”/as communities of Christian disciples. 5. We are underserving certain communities across the diocese, such as the Hispanic community, whose deep faith and devotion could help to renew our institutions. 6. We have many underutilized and/or aging facilities that are not always conducive to the needs of today. 7. The current financial models in most of our parishes, schools, and diocese are not sustainable, and we struggle to attract and retain qualified and faithful lay employees. 8. Existing structures often prevent the diocese from being able to assign priests to parishes/ministries according to their gifts and talents. Given all of this, it is obvious that our current model of parish life is not working, and something needs to change. We know, however, that God has not abandoned us, and so we are convinced –with firm faith – that He has a plan for us, and that He is inviting us at this precise moment in history to reimagine what a parish can and needs to be. With the help of His grace, we are developing a new model of how our parishes are organized and operate in the future. So, where is God leading us? What do we seek with this new model that is being discerned and developed? We want to: 1. Realign diocesan, parish, and school resources for the sake of the essential mission of the church - to “make disciples.” 2. We want to offer more and better formational opportunities for families and people of all ages, including a more effective and unified approach to Catholic schools. 3. We will reclaim the Sabbath and Eucharist as the center of parish life and increase participation in the Sacraments with vibrant church liturgies at greater than 50% capacity so all the faithful will experience Masses that are lively and life-giving. 5. We have to address facility needs, maintenance, and usage; financially stabilize our parishes, schools, and the diocese; and hire, retain, and pay qualified and faithful staff. 6. We will follow recent directives from the Vatican so that those who voluntarily wish to attend Traditional Latin Mass may do so, but those who do not are not forced to. 7. Create schedules, assignments, and responsibilities that allow our priests to live happy, healthy, and holy lives; to work in collaboration; and be responsible for no more than 3 weekend Masses. Having said all of this, how do we plan to get there? We will get there by seeking after and following the Holy Spirit, by working together in new ways, by keeping the richness of the Church’s Tradition but letting go of outmoded models and other attachments that keep us from doing God’s will. We cannot rely upon ourselves apart from God - or violate Church teachings, canon law, civil laws, or other diocesan policies, or ignore the data or goals mentioned. We cannot change parish, school, and/or diocesan structures without a corresponding change in culture. Into the Deep is about changing our structures, while Go Make Disciples is about changing our culture. Both are necessary. We must make structural changes, but even more importantly, we must continue to change and renew our parish cultures – which begins with each one of us recommitting ourselves to following Jesus with all of our hearts. You will have an opportunity to provide feedback on this new model next month. We are embarking upon this bold journey together with gratitude for the past but with a realistic eye towards the present and sincere hope for the future. But above all, we are looking towards Heaven – our true homeland and the source of all spiritual renewal! St. Paul wrote to his companion, Timothy: “The Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that through me the proclamation might be completed and all might hear it.” May God guide us, may He bless us, may He strengthen us, and may He help all in the Diocese of Madison follow Him as disciples…Into the Deep! |
Audio Recording
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29TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Into the Deep Homily on Our Current Reality and the 8 Takeaways (Weekend of October 15/16, 2022)
Today and over the next two weekends Bishop Hying has asked all priests to speak about Into the Deep – the Diocese of Madison’s Strategic Plan to move our diocese, parishes, and other Catholic institutions from maintenance to mission. In particular, tonight/this morning I am going to talk about our Current Reality. I know that some of you may already be familiar with this information because you’ve been following along via the Catholic Herald, the Into the Deep website, Flocknote messages, etc. Nevertheless, I’m sharing it here at Mass because the Bishop wants to ensure that everyone knows about this important endeavor. Also, please know that we will have handouts in all the bulletins this weekend, so please take one with you and ponder it carefully. I am going to share with you some important statistics and facts, book-ended by a reflection from Bishop Hying. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we know that nothing happens outside of God’s providence and foreknowledge. Every event – no matter how challenging or confusing it may be when it happens, or how unrelated it may appear to be to other events – is in fact willed by God for our good, if not directly then at least permissively. This is the teaching of our faith. As St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans: “We know that in everything God works for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose” God’s action of creation, redemption, and sanctification, which He marvelously fulfilled and revealed in the Paschal Mystery is the ultimate truth and meaning of human existence. It underlies all other realities, including our current reality in the Diocese of Madison. It is important that we remember this as we courageously follow the Lord Jesus’ call to put out into the deep. Equally important, however, is that we honestly and truthfully face our current reality. For as the Lord Jesus says, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). For us this means that we acknowledge and accept the difficult truths of our current reality, so that together we are free to follow Him into a brighter future for our local Church, that is, the Diocese of Madison. Over the past six months, PartnersEdge, LLC, and the Into the Deep Strategic Planning Team have been working hard gathering and analyzing various data sets, including demographic data, parish and school data, financial and giving data, sacramental and priest data, historical data, etc. This professional, comprehensive, and thorough effort has led to the creation of a Current Reality Report, which spells out with great clarity and insight our current reality our Diocese. In particular, there are 8 principal “takeaways” from the Current Reality Report: FIRST: THE TOTAL POPULATION ACROSS THE DIOCESE IS GROWING.
SECOND: WE ARE LOSING CATHOLIC PEOPLE, ESPECIALLY OUR YOUNGER PEOPLE; AND WE ARE AGING.
THIRD: FEWER AND FEWER PEOPLE ARE ATTENDING MASS.
FOURTH: SIGNIFICANTLY FEWER PEOPLE ARE RECEIVING SACRAMENTS. In looking at Sacramental Trends the following data points are heartbreaking to hear:
FIFTH: FAITH FORMATION ENROLLMENT IS IN A FREE FALL, WHILE CATHOLIC SCHOOL ENROLLMENT IS HOLDING RELATIVELY STEADY.
SIXTH: WE HAVE SIGNIFICANTLY FEWER PRIESTS THAN IN THE PAST, BUT, PRAISE GOD, WE PROJECT TO BE RELATIVELY STABLE INTO THE FUTURE.
SEVENTH: PEOPLE WHO GIVE DONATE ABOUT 2% OF THEIR INCOME; WITH FEWER OLDER PEOPLE GIVING MORE THESE DAYS.
In looking at Financial Trends the following data points are noteworthy:
Again, in from Bishop Hying: When considering these 8 “takeaways” from the Current Reality Report together it is obvious that we are facing some significant challenges. But this probably comes as no surprise. And these issues are not new; most have been building for quite some time. Recognizing this, the diocese has made attempts at various points over the past few decades to tackle some of these and other pressing issues. Parishes have clustered or merged, priests have taken on additional responsibilities, slight modifications have been made. But, despite the best of intentions, most of these efforts have been inadequate, incomplete, and/or directed towards symptoms rather than root causes. With some notable exceptions, most dioceses in the country have tried to “tweak” or “band-aid” these growing problems rather than ask, “what if God is inviting us to re-imagine what a parish can and needs to be in an increasingly post- Christian culture?” Once again, we face significant challenges. And this necessitates a significant and bold response. Now is the time for us to look reality square in the face, see the truth, and with boundless hope and trust in Jesus Christ courageously put out into the deep to re-imagine what a parish can and needs to be if we are going to fulfill our mandate to go make disciples. We must be willing to let go of the past – or any other attachments that may hinder us – to follow Him into a new and brighter future, that is, into a healthier and holier reality. In the words of St. Peter, “Master, we have toiled all night and took nothing. But at your word [we] will let down the nets” (Luke 5:5). May God guide us, and may He grant us the grace, courage, generosity, and faith of St. Peter to follow Him into the deep and into a new reality! Next weekend I will be sharing with you our dream for the future, and how with God’s help we hope to get there. Please pray for this effort and may God renew the Diocese of Madison, our parishes, and each one of us for the sake of making disciples! I find the last line of the Gospel today to be a very poignant question. If Jesus would have had a microphone to drop, it would be “microphone drop” moment then, as it is today: “When the Son of Man comes, will there be any faith on earth?” |
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28TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 9, 2022 Pythagoras gave us the theory of geometry that we all learned in junior high: the sum of the squares on the legs of a right triangle is equal to the square on the hypotenuse. (Remember that?) Einstein gave us the Theory of relativity: E = mc2. Here’s my theory: Gratitude will always lead to respect. Put in another way: If we are grateful people, we will be respectful people. It’s not all that complicated. Naaman figured it out. [He was a powerful leader of the Syrian armies, arch-enemy of the Israelites, but now had leprosy, outcast and vulnerable and scared. Desperate enough to ask his slave-girl to go to the enemy and ask for help. And help he received through the prophet Elisha.] Naaman was cured of his leprosy in the waters of the Jordan River and, wanting to give thanks to the God who had cured him, took the trouble to haul back a couple of loads of dirt so that he would never forget the gift he received from the God of Israel. The Samaritan leper, cured of his leprosy, figured it out. He came back to Jesus – a sworn enemy of the Samaritans for generations, and in gratitude, fell on his knees in respect of a man that he was sworn to hate. How about us? Have we come to that truth in our lives? Are we grateful people? Because if not, when we stop being grateful, we stop being respectful. If we are not grateful for the gift of all that God has created in its delicate balance, and our life that depends upon it, we will stop respecting it. And the consequences of not respecting creation will haunt not only us but all generations that come after us. If we are not grateful for every child conceived or of a dying person in their fragile state of life, we will not respect that life and in that irreverence, no longer make it a priority to protect that life. If we are not grateful for every person, regardless of what they became, or how they failed to live up to our expectations, we will no longer respect that person’s existence and what they have to offer the world in their imperfections. If we are not grateful for immigrants and refugees and the opportunity to offer what we have to lift them from their place of vulnerability, we will no longer respect them as our brothers and sisters in Christ. If we do not hold those of imperfect bodies, or who have minds that are ill or souls that are troubled or whose spirits are wracked with addiction – if we do not hold them with the same gratitude as those of healthy minds and bodies and spirits and souls, we can no longer say we respect the person to whom the body or mind or soul or spirit is connected. If we are not grateful for the wonder that is brought into our church and our communities and our families by people who experience life and love differently than we do, or who speak or look or believe differently than we do, we will no longer honor them with respect they deserve and appreciate the richness they bring to the Body of Christ. And if we stop being grateful to God, we stop respecting God. And that, my friends, is a very dangerous place to be in life. It’s not rocket science; it’s actually pretty simple. When we are grateful people, will we be respectful people. |
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27TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 2, 2022 There is no text version for this weekend, but there is an audio recording. |
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26TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 25, 2022 I’ve been preaching this gospel parable now for 40-years, and I’m quite certain that never in that forty years has anyone fully identified with the rich man, myself included. Somehow, we give ourselves a way out. First of all, because most of us don’t think of ourselves as being rich. Sure, we may have more assets than some others but we’re not really rich. Not in comparison to the billionaires that own yachts and mansions. Right? And second, because most people that I know who are rich are actually quite generous. In fact, very generous. So, what does this parable of Jesus have to say to us? I’d like to switch it around a bit: what if the riches that the parable of Jesus have nothing to do with money. What if the wealth we are talking about is simply this: our faith? What we believe. It might have been our hard work or simply because we inherited the gift of faith through no real merit of our own; or perhaps we married well. But we are here today because we believe in something, someone – God who is powerful beyond all worldly measure and yet chose to dwell among us as a human being. We believe that God becomes present to us in the Scriptures that are proclaimed, in the Sacraments we celebrate and in each other. Our faith has carried us through the toughest times of our lives, led us to forgive when forgiveness seemed impossible. Our faith brings us together with fellow believers as one family, one Body of Christ, right here in this church, for generation after generation. Our faith has brought us to our knees, moved us to bow our heads, united us in common purpose in the greatest moments of celebration and in the most challenging of times. What if this, our faith, not money, was the wealth that we are talking about today. Let’s start there and listen to the story once again with a little re-write. “There was a woman, rich in faith, that prayed every day. Next door was a young man that had no faith. He didn’t know the love of God, wasn’t raised in a family of faith with the comfort of God’s presence in his home. He hungered for even a scrap of something, something that gave more meaning to his life, that healed some pretty deep wounds. He had never tasted the strength that faith could offer and the depth of love it would reveal. “But when the young man tragically lost his life, he was carried into the bosom of Abraham. The woman also died, and from the netherworld, where she was in torment, she raised her eyes and saw Abraham far off and the young man at his side. “And she cried out, ‘Father Abraham, what’s up with this? Have pity on me! Send the young man to dip his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering in torment in these flames.’ Abraham replied, “My child, remember that you received so much faith in your lifetime; this young man wasn’t that fortunate. But now, he is comforted here but you are not. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established that keeps us separated. Do you know why? “Your faith, my daughter, was not meant simply to bring you comfort, to give you peace of mind. It was meant to share. What did you ever do to share that faith with your neighbor? What conversation did you ever begin? What morsel of faith did you set upon his plate? What love did you ever show him in my name? When did you ever pray for him, encourage him to get to know me? “I gave you so much – a bed of ivory! What did you do to share the wealth of faith that you were so privileged to have in this life?” The Gospel of the Lord. |
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25TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time September 18, 2022 Most days, I struggle enough with the English language, so I always admire people who can master multiple languages, particularly those who learn English as their second language. How do you explain to a non-English-speaking person that “read” (r-e-a-d) and “read” (r-e-a-d) are different words but spelled the same? As is the sentence: “I was going to read the book tomorrow but I read it today. And what if the book had a red cover? It would be all the more confusing, right? Similar confusion can happen when the same phrase can have a completely different meaning, as in the phrase, “to take advantage of.” I can say, “I took advantage of the opportunity.” It can mean that there was an opportunity to do something good, and I went for it. Or it can mean there was an opportunity to do something not so good, and I went for it. Confusing, right? That’s why we can hear the parable today and scratch our heads and say, “Wait! What?” Jesus played the linguistic card of the day and got the people thinking. He wasn’t telling the people to be dishonest and take advantage at someone else’s expense, though that’s exactly what it sounds like. That would contradict his entire message and that of the prophets of old in their admonition to care for the poor and the vulnerable. He was, rather, giving them an example of how they, as God-like people, could take advantage to do something good. Like the steward in the parable, we are given the opportunity to take advantage of that which is offered to us: to accept God’s mercy and forgiveness, to place our burdens upon the shoulders of Christ; to be unburdened of the anger that still holds our hearts and the sin that weighs us down. We are welcomed to take advantage of the opportunities to deepen our faith, to learn more about God in whom we profess our faith. We are encouraged to take advantage of every door that is opened to us by Christ. Likewise, as the Body of Christ, as people of faith, as members of God’s kingdom, we become bearers of compassion, ambassadors of mercy, proclaimers of God’s love for others. We hold a certain power, a responsibility with the wealth of gifts God has entrusted to us. And with that power, with those gifts we have the opportunity to ease the burdens of the poor, to encourage those who are weighed down by grief, to welcome those who feel excluded, to heal those who are broken. It might be the simplest conversation in which we extend a word of kindness, or to welcome others into the world of faith in Jesus Christ. To unburden someone of the cross they bear, or forgive as we have been forgiven. This wealth, this power puts us in an advantage, not for our benefit but for the benefit for others. Not to take advantage of others but to use the advantage for others. Unlike our English language that can be very complicated, this stuff, this gospel, really isn’t that complicated at all. |
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24TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 11, 2022 I’m not sure just where in Wisconsin the line of demarcation is drawn, but I know when I moved to this area nine years ago, something changed. When I lived in Beloit and left someone’s house to drive home you got the “drive safe” farewell. But in the last nine years, what I have heard in a farewell is slightly different. “Watch out for the deer!” As if there is anything you can actually do to keep your bumper and the buck from meeting when he jumps out at you. Both farewells fall in the line of other warnings and cautions: Don’t cut yourself. Don’t fall on the ice. Be careful with the power saw. All good warnings; all good admonitions; all meant to keep us safe and in one piece. But, admit it, sometimes it is good to let go! Not to put others or ourselves at risk but to eat dessert first, to buy the lottery ticket when there isn’t a snowball chance in July that you’d win the millions. To sing in the shower at full voice, to dance like Tom Cruise did in the movie Risky Business (when no one else is home, of course). Live a little recklessly. That, my friends, is exactly what God is calling us to do. Not in recklessly putting ourselves or someone else at risk, but to recklessly live mercy! We are called to imitate God in that reckless outpouring of love and forgiveness. But living our faith recklessly, as God demands, is challenging. We’re just not wired to do so. Or at least not trained to do so. We live with the cautions of life always rolling around in our heads to keep us safe and in one piece – personally and as a community. The Israelites called it justice. Their lives and laws and understanding of God was mostly a good thing, like mighty “cautions” from God of what to do and not do, how to keep things in order, to keep safe and united. But when it came to forgiveness, god didn’t work that way. God couldn’t help himself. The only response of God was to remove all the filters of practical justice, all the cautions, and simply forgive. To offer mercy with reckless abandon. That’s why when Jesus taught parables of mercy and forgiveness, he was teaching the people to move beyond their sense of retribution, beyond their understanding of justice, beyond what would be normally expected. No respectable shepherd would abandon ninety-nine sheep in search of one that wandered away. That would be irresponsible. And when Jesus told the story about the crazy woman that wastes a whole day tearing her house apart looking for a penny, a single little penny, and then when she finds it she throws a party for the whole neighborhood, they’d shake their heads and say, “Well how much is that going to cost her? That just doesn’t make any sense!” Is that not what God is telling us? Doing for us? Asking us to follow? Is that not what it means to sing words of mercy when vengeance would be the expected song of the day? Are we not being called to shout forgiveness before condemnation, to dance a dance of love before suspicion? When it comes to bearing God’s mercy to the world, should we not be crazy like the shepherd and go after the one that is lost, be foolish like the woman throwing a party for one silly penny? St. Paul reminded Timothy that “Jesus Christ came into this world to save sinners,” and “display all his patience as an example for those who would come to believe in him.” The key to unlocking this whole story of mercy is this: First, we have to believe that God forgives us. Let’s start there: with our personal failings. When we didn’t live up to our best as parents or friends or child or servant of God. Because if we believe that God so recklessly shares his love and mercy with us, what is keeping us from doing the same? First by forgiving ourselves for our own shortcomings and failures and faults. And then, forgiving others for theirs. So, yes, when it comes to deer, be cautious, watch out. When it comes to sharp objects, be careful. But when it comes to forgiveness, be a little risky: dance like Tom Cruise. |
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23RD Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 4, 2022 I could imagine this conversation between Jesus and St. Luke in the Kingdom right now: “Luke, what in God’s name were you thinking? I didn’t think you’d actually write that stuff down! You’re going to give these people a heart attack. You must hate your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sister…renounce all of their possessions…carry your own cross! And Luke would respond: “Well, you said it, Jesus. How am I supposed to know you didn’t really mean it?” Actually, I doubt that conversation is –or ever has- taken place. I suspect that the conversation is more than likely something like this: “Well, Luke, they’re just not getting it. I had to get their attention because they just didn’t seem to be listening. I gave them everything they needed to be happy. They just didn’t realize it; they just haven’t tapped into it. “I’ve given them every bit of courage they need to stand in my name before anyone for what is right and good an holy even if they are hated for it, the kind of courage to put their relationship with me ahead of any other relationship in their lives and realize it will make every other relationship better, the courage to love me more than they love any person of this world, the courage they need to let go of any relationship that keeps them from living my gospel. “I’ve given them the strength to carry the cross every day! The strength to forgive when they have every reason to retaliate, the strength to keep going for my sake when they’d rather give up, the strength to live justly when it would be so much easier and more fun to live selfishly, the strength to stand up for the poor and the weak and bullied when everyone else forgets them. “You know! Possessions have a way of seeming so permanent and important and crucial when so often they just get in the way. They cloud what really matters and pretend to give joy that is so fleeting compared to what I can give. How many times did I teach them that things can get in the way of me, and dared them to give it all up if they do? “Luke, don’t they know I’ve given them the Holy Spirit just like I gave it to you and everyone who has ever believed in me since? “You remember Onesimus, Paul’s friend? Paul was already in jail because he was preaching my message. That day he broke every social taboo and welcomed him, a slave, as his very own son. He loved him and people hated him for it. But he had the courage and the love and the strength to send him to Philemon and said, ‘He’s not a slave. He’s our brother. And if you love me, you will love him, too.’ We see, that’s what I’m talking about. Following me means sometimes you have to break the rules, be bold, be different, be confident. “You got it right, Luke. It’s tough stuff to grasp. Real tough. But when they do, when they figure it out, it’s going to set them free. They will be on fire! And finally, Luke would respond, “So…you don’t want me to rewrite the gospel? Soften it up a bit? Make it just a little easier?” “No, Luke, it’s my Word and I’m sticking to it.” |
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22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time
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22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time
August 28, 2022 In his first message to the world as the first-ever Pope Francis in 2013, after asking prayers for his predecessor, the newly elected Pope said this: “And now I would like to give the blessing. But first I want to ask you a favor. Before the Bishop blesses the people, I ask that you would pray to the Lord to bless me – the prayer of the people for their Bishop. Let us say this prayer – your prayer for me – in silence.” And thus began one of the most unique papacies of our church’s history. That night he didn’t go to the papal palace, as would be the custom; he went back to the hotel. The next day, he paid is own hotel bill. He forgoes the “pope mobile” for a small, compact car; wears simple vestments instead of the most ornate. His teachings and off-the-cuff comments and writing all reveal that he clearly takes the parable of today’s gospel to heart. It is why he told the new Cardinals yesterday that their place is in the kitchen feeding the poor, why on Holy Thursday he washes the feet of prison inmates. And that is what makes him one of the most powerful persons on the face of the earth. It is also why there is a strong group opposing Francis: laypeople, theologians, bishops and cardinals who would like him to disappear from the scene. Isaac the Syrian, a 7th Century bishop and theologian, said that a person who is genuinely humble gives off a certain scent that other people can pick up. Here’s his logic: In the presence of such a person one does not feel judged and has nothing to fear. People feel safe around a humble person and are drawn to him or her. By this theory, it is why animals, even wild animals, fall under its spell and never harm that person. Isaac believed that humble person has (in his words) “recovered the smell of paradise.” The word humility takes its root in the Latin word, humus, meaning soil, ground, dirt. If one goes with this definition then humble people are the most-earthy and most-grounded people we know. To be humble is to be firmly planted on the ground, to be in touch with the earth - and to carry the smell of the earth. To be humble is to take one’s rightful place as a piece of the earth and not as someone or something separate from it. To recover the smell of paradise. Humility should never be confused, as it often is, with a wounded self-image or with being timid. Too often we think a humble person is one who puts themselves down or deflects praise (even when it’s deserved), who wouldn’t think of stepping forward and offering his or her gifts to the community because it would draw attention to them. But truly humble people are the most-grounded, that is, those who know they are not the earth but also know that they are not a second-rate piece of dirt either. It is why so many leaders of his time were threatened by Jesus. It is why the Wisdom writers of our faith history held humility as a trait of the best of its leaders. It is why the psalmist sang of God’s care for the poor. It is why the Christian church saw their relationship with God change when God humbled himself to come among us as one like us; he broke down any division between God and his creation. No wonder people like Francis of Assisi could talk to birds and befriend wolves; no wonder why Pope Francis has been able to build bridges with people that have been alienated from the church, or hurt by the church. “Who am I to judge?” Following a humble leader is always an adventure, for sure – a step into a world turned upside-down. Being humble ourselves is an even greater adventure, to be transformed, changed and, and in humility, become the most powerful weapon against evil and division that exists. Humility is an adventure that, Jesus promised, will be repaid in the resurrection of the righteous. That’s a pretty solid promise to hold on to, don’t you think? |
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21st Sunday of Ordinary Time
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21st Sunday of Ordinary Time August 21, 2022 It used to be Jeopardy and The Newlywed Game. But then came Survivor, and then The Final Straw, The Voice, Bachelor and Bachelorette, America’s Got Talent, Dancing with Myself, Don’t Forget the Lyrics, Master Chef….the possibilities are endless with unscripted television shows of competition. In fact, there are more than 750 different so-called “reality shows” that fill network and cable TV. Seriously: doesn’t life itself offer enough unscripted competition? Because able-bodied or not, muscular or not, talented or not, good looking or not, we all share in one life-long competition, the quest for the mother of all finish lines, the crown of all crowns: to be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven. That’s reality! There is an argument, of course, that crossing that finish line relies solely on the love of God. No one, even the saintliest among us, could possibly get there without the love of God. And it is true that there is an inclusivity of God’s love that our minds can hardly capture: that God loves all people completely and fully and without condition. Everyone, no matter how good or bad, how moral or immoral, how law-abiding or how criminal the world judges – no one is beyond the mercy and love of God. I’ll preach that thousands of times in my years with you. It will be a mantra I hope you never forget. God’s love for us is unconditional, complete gift. We can’t earn it; we can’t bargain for it or bargain it away. There is nothing we can do to make God love us more and nothing we can do to make God love us less. But (Yes, there is a “but.”) that love comes with expectation. God doesn’t want to be a part of your life; God wants it all. Not an hour a week, not an hour a day, but all of it. From the very beginning God made it clear he is not picky about who shows up at the gates. He told the people of Jerusalem that he will literally send their fugitives to the east and the west, from the north and the south and invite foreigners, those that have never even heard of me will be welcomed to come to Jerusalem. But God also made it abundantly clear from the beginning that there were expectations -not conditions to his love, but expectations in response to that love. And that, brothers and sisters, has never changed and never will. God’s love, if we accept it, will take us places we may not want to go and lead us places we could never imagine, but there has always been an expectation that we must live in that love, reflect that love, use that love every day of our lives and in every decision of our lives and in every challenge of our lives. God never stops loving us; God’s love, the invitation to live in and through that love, never, ever changes. So, the final word of our entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven is not so much in God’s hands as it is in ours. And it is not simply answered at the time of death. It is answered right now, with how we respond to the love of God today. It is not about perfection; it is about willing to accept discipline and correction. It is not about being the best; it is about being humble and sometimes contrite. It is not about winning; it is about enduring, about holding on to the end. It is not about being first; it is about being faithful. It is the ultimate unscripted game and the only one we can truly call reality. |
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Assumption of Mary
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Assumption of Mary
August 15, 2022 I have said, more than once in the past couple of weeks, that I don’t want to BE 20 or 30 year’s old. (Been there; done that.) What I do want is a 20 or 30-year old body. One with less aches and pains, a little more flexible and with a few less miles on it. But, such is aging and being human. But the Feast we celebrate today, honoring the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, gives me hope, not for a young body, but for an eternal body. As beautiful as the theology of this feast is, it runs the risk of just sounding a lot like just an elaborate way of saying “Mary is awesome.” But the theology of this feast runs much deeper than that. Through the Immaculate Conception, Mary was free from original sin in order to be able to cooperate completely with God in the Annunciation, welcoming Jesus’ incarnation. She has in full the freedom that all of us were made for. In baptism, we too, are made without sin. And in the Assumption, we see where that full freedom leads, to the fullness of life, both soul and body, with God. Mary’s Assumption is a promise of God’s hope and desire for all of us, not a one-off miracle solely for her sake. This is what we are made for, and Mary goes before us to show the way. In the preface for today’s liturgy, prayed just before the “Holy, Holy, Holy” in the Mass, there is a beautiful line that does a lot to explain why we celebrate the Assumption in the first place. The preface says that the Blessed Mother’s “was assumed into heaven as the beginning and image of your church’s coming to perfection, and a sign of sure hope and comfort to your pilgrim people.” But unlike Mary, we have a long way to go, individually and as a church. We are far from perfect, in need of God’s endless mercy, dependent upon the unbounded love of God. Because the reality is that we are still much closer to pride and might and wealth than we are to lowliness and hunger. And so the promise God makes through Mary is that the path God lays out for all of us; the path Mary has followed will involve us being humbled, as well. In order to share the hope of the Assumption—in order to share any Christian hope at all—we have to start by admitting that both we and the world are broken in a way that we cannot fix on our own. We have to admit that we hope for something we cannot achieve ourselves. And then, even in the midst of our sin and hypocrisy, we begin to cooperate with the freedom God offers, the freedom Mary knew fully, to be humbled in order to be lifted up. Mary’s Assumption is the promise that such hope is better than we can imagine, and the reminder that the way to it is through God’s mercy rather than our own strength. |
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20th sunday of ordinary time
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Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 14, 2022 I was a senior at St. Ambrose College in Davenport, Iowa. Fr. Drake Schaefer was the chaplain. I don’t remember the issue, really, but I do remember his words: “Gary, if you go through life and don’t make any enemies it’s a pretty good indication that you don’t know what you stand for and neither will anyone else.” It’s funny how certain words get seared into your memory and form your soul. I wonder if those words would have brought any consolation to Jeremiah when he was stuck up to his neck in the mud at the bottom of the cistern. He was trying to convince his people that they should surrender Jerusalem to their enemies; that their infidelity to God had consequences. That didn’t go over so well with the Jewish leaders. I wonder if they would have helped the crowd make sense of Jesus' unusual almost-shocking declaration today: Do you think I’ve come to make peace? Not a chance. I came to make division! We have to remember that in the time of Jeremiah and Jesus the written word was not available to most people; God relied on women and men who were filled with the Spirit to relay his message. And as far as we know, Jesus never wrote a word. His message was all wrapped in the stories he told and his day-after-day teaching to any crowd that would gather. It was the life he led and the death he endured that spoke to the hearts of his people. Those words of the prophets and Jesus -THE WORD- took flesh in spoken word, and shook things up. And, if we allow that Word to speak today it will continue to shake things up. In fact, if the Word of God doesn’t shake us to the core once in a while then we are probably not listening. If all we get out of the Gospel is “warm fuzzies” then we are most likely not hearing what Jesus had to say. Because we like comfort; we like routine. (Moving into a new space [and a new time] throws off routine. / Kind of like moving an 8:00 Mass to 11:30 throws off our regular routine.) But more than routine, what we need is fire in our bellies! Fire that gets us out of our lazy-boys to do his work, fire that refines our priorities in our schedules and resets the norms of how our families or businesses or politics operate. We need fire in our bellies that challenges us to try again where we once failed, fire that will make us stop and think, again, if this is really how we want to live our lives. We need the fire of Christ that will shake us in our relationships that we have come to take so for granted. Yes, that kind of fire is dangerous. But without it, status quo takes over, apathy becomes so deeply rooted that we quit trying. Without keeping the fire of Christ alive in our hearts and in our church and in our own parish and in our communities and in our institutions, we die. It may be a slow and even peaceful kind of death, the kind of death that comes creeping slowly upon us. But we will die. We will die from a lack of hope, from a false sense of security that breeds injustice, from all our little addictions that quietly take over our lives, from the comfort that allows greed to win. We just kind of give up trying to make it any better. But if we all work to keep the fire of Christ alive, then there is no stopping us! Then the kingdom is the limit, and goodness will reign. When we keep the fire of Christ alive in our hearts we might make an enemy or two, but that same fire of Christ will find the path to heal that wound; that same fire of Christ will make room for compassion; that same fire of Christ will ultimately, in time, bring a peace that this world cannot give on its own. So whatever it is that you can do to keep that fire of Christ burning in our lives – find it; do it. Because that’s the fire that will help us preserve in running the race that lies before us. That’s the fire that will keep us from growing weary and losing heart. That’s the fire that will keep us alive. |
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19th sunday of ordinary time
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Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 7, 2022 “A man is worked upon by what he works on.” Forgiving its non-inclusivity, it’s a great quote of the African-American statesman, Frederick Douglas. In other words, the things that we choose to put our time and energy into in life (the things we work on) are the things that shape the person we become. The parable from which Jesus teaches today says the same thing in a timeless story. It is not so much a teaching about the end of time as it is a teaching about what we are doing with the time in which we are living, our time right now. It is about what we treasure and how that shapes us. We are not simply carved out and formed by the circumstances that life deals us, the hand we’ve been dealt. Those circumstances are only the beginning, they set the stage for the choices we then make, what we choose to work on. What becomes important to us, what we spend our money on, what we put into our already tightly-wound schedules – these are the decisions that shape the people we become. The relationships we choose to work on and those we choose to neglect, what we value in life and the value we place on life - all of that forms us and shapes us and turns us into the men and women we become. As Jesus says, where our treasure is, there our hearts lie. The same truth can be said about our treasure of faith. On some level faith comes to us through the circumstances into which we have been given by our family or in marriage or through friendships. That’s all true. But equally true is that we can only become truly faithful men and women if we choose to work at it. And it takes work. The deep faith of Abraham and Sarah was not given to them on some mystical silver platter. They came by it the same way we do: first as a gift from God, and then they worked at it. It must have been soul-searching, gut-wrenching, and sometimes-terrifying work to trust God in the unique journey he set before them. Hard choices had to be made and difficult paths were chosen. They, as the author of Hebrews preached, embarked upon a sojourn not only through the desert but through faith. But they worked on it, and it (faith) worked on them. They received much, but much was demanded of them. They become the Father and Mother of a nation that would forever place its faith in God. In a sense, faith was not given to them; it was entrusted to them, just as it is to us today. I don’t think we can dispute that we all have work to do. So, as a starting point, let me propose three questions that might send us in the right direction: 1. Are we truly committed to participate in the Sacramental life of the church in such a way that the Sacraments truly form us? (Liturgy, literally translated, is the “work of the church.”) 2. Are we committed to do the work that it takes to deepen our prayer life, to work on our personal relationship with Christ every day? 3. Will we make the effort to grow in our understanding of our faith traditions and teachings, taking advantage of the resources that are offered to us? We have been given so much, and because of that, much will be demanded of us. So, take comfort in the wisdom of Fredrick Douglas: if we are willing to work on it, it will work on us. |
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17th sunday of ordinary time
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Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 24, 2022 A million years ago, when I was in seminary, we were required to take a few courses in pastoral counselling. One of the most basic counselling skills we learned in that class is what is called “first level empathy.” Here’s what it sounds like: Someone tells you something, a story, a feeling, and you respond with, “What I hear you saying is…” and repeat back what they said. It’s good, basic communication. It lets the person know that you heard them, that what you heard was, indeed, what they wanted to communicate. It’s not only a good counselling skill, it’s a good skill to use in any communication: with friends, in marriage and, honestly, and, perhaps a whole lot of bad theology could be prevented if we practiced that with God, as well. Such as the parable Jesus taught today. It is often misinterpreted - that if we ask God enough, we will get what we want. That God is like a gameshow host who awards prizes to the best performers. Or that we need to convince God to be nice. Or that somehow if we are persistent enough, God might (if God is in a good mood) actually listen to us. Or if he gets tired of listening to us bombard him with prayers, he might just do what we wanted to be done all along. This was the illusion of the Israelites when they assumed that they could plead and try to change God’s mind, going back and forth in argument with God to try to cajole some mercy out of Him. What we hear you saying, God, is that if we try hard enough, plead long enough, be persistent enough, if we are a pain in your holy side enough, we can change your mind. At which time God says, “No, you missed what I was trying to say. So, let me try this again. “I’m not the crabby old guy in the house that won’t offer the bread. That’s YOU. I’m the friend of the friend who pleads and begs for you to have a change of heart, to be more generous. That’s how prayer is answered! That’s how my kingdom works.” Prayer is never about changing God or changing God’s mind or changing God’s will. How presumptuous of us to think we could make God, who is love, love us any more, or that we could squeeze some mercy out of God that God has not considered. Prayer is always about US! Our prayer for the coming of God’s kingdom is ultimately a prayer of self-offering, of saying to God: What can I do to make your kingdom come? How might I do your will? How can I make your name holy? Who must I forgive so that I might more fully know your forgiveness? When we really hear what Christ is saying to us, we stop asking God to do our bidding and join Christ in doing everything we can do for the coming of God’s kingdom. What God so freely and generously offers is himself. The Holy Spirit. And then he says, “You got this.” |
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16th sunday of ordinary time
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Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 17, 2022 Did you see the images coming back from the James Webb Space Telescope this week? These amazing photographs, actual photographs of space. Shimmering stars, warped light trails and thousands upon thousands of gem-like galaxies twinkling against the darkness of space, the deepest images of the universe ever taken. As one professor said, "You start looking at this image and realize there's no blank sky. "There's something crazy happening everywhere." The focal point of Webb's deep field image is a large, bright cluster of galaxies which sits about 4.6 billion light-years from Earth — meaning the light we see was emitted before our planet was even formed. Try to wrap your head around that one! I’m not really a space-geek. I leave that science to far more brilliant minds. Because when they start to explain the minute scientific details of what we are seeing in the images, what can be lost is this unfathomable dimension of time and space, for me, a profound glimpse into the Creator, itself: God. I use this as a place to understand the scriptures this weekend because the same thing can happen when we get so focused on the details of life, the business, the crazy things that are happening every day. When we focus on the little imperfections, the constant activity, the never-ending demands of the day, you lose the bigger picture; you lose sight of God. Abraham had eyes that never lost that perspective. When the three men appeared at his tent, he knew it was the Lord. He offered over-the-top hospitality, yes, but didn’t lose sight that it was the Lord that was visiting. So, when they made the audacious prediction that he and Sarah, who were far too old to even think about children, would become parents and give birth to a new nation of people, he just heard God. When Jesus visited Martha and Mary, Martha offered wonderful hospitality to Jesus, certainly not a bad thing! But she was so concerned about the details of the visit that she forgot the other part, the part that Mary didn’t lose sight of: they were in the presence of the Divine, the presence of the Holy One. Through those same eyes we can see the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ. We don’t need science if we have the eyes of faith. Through those same eyes we can see others, as different as they are from us, as also being children of God, our brothers and sisters. We may not have images of the Webb telescope coming our way every day, but we can pause every day, even if just for a moment, and look up into the heavens, or look deeply into our hearts and remember that we, too, are always in the holy presence of God. Just to do that every day can give us a whole new view of what is happening in our space and what is unfolding in our time. |
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15th sunday of ordinary time
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Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 10, 2022 This “thing” we are talking about today, sometimes we confuse with what we call values. But values are defined through culture; they are taught and handed on from generation to generation. And values can change. What may have been very important to us may become not all that important in light of our experiences of life; things that once meant little to us can become treasured. And it’s not conscience. Conscience is formed over time, through the discernment of values that are learned, through our lived experiences. Conscience is something that, while it guides our life’s decisions, is affected when values change, when experience changes, or when the situation changes. It’s different from law. Laws may certainly reflect our values and a community’s collective conscience. But we know that laws are fluid. Courts and legislature, families and even our church sometimes change the laws we live by. What we are talking about is something that is greater than law, more formative than values, more effective than conscience. We are talking about a voice that lies within us, so deep and secure within us that nothing from the world can affect it or change it. Moses said that is not too mysterious and remote for us. It is not up in the sky or across the sea that we have to go searching for it. It is already in our hearts and in our mouths. It is the voice that led the Samaritan man in the parable to go beyond the laws of his time, touched him deeper than the values in which he had been formed and spoke louder than his conscience would take him. Called the “universal and inescapable” voice, the “mind of God, the “keen awareness of the divine” by scholars and saints. But no matter what we call it, some-ONE is talking to us. It is the voice through whom all was created, the voice of the ONE who is before all things, and holds all things together. Speaking to us in spite of what our laws might say is legal or not, beyond the echo of any value system of any time or culture, greater even than our sometimes gullible and susceptible conscience. The voice of God within us. What a world we could exist in, what a church we could be a part of, what a community we could form, what a family we could create…if we all just listened to that voice, abided by that voice, tended to that voice of God within! |
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14th sunday of ordinary time
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Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 3, 2022 A beauty salon owner was surprised when one of his regular customers came in to have her hair styled one day; she wasn’t scheduled for a cut for another couple of weeks. He asked if she has some big plans for that evening. “No,” she said, “I don’t have anything special going on. I just want to look good tonight. So, the stylist went to work. He gave the woman a scalp massage, then shampooed and styled her hair. During their almost-hour together the two talked and joked and laughed. When he had finished, the woman smiled and hugged him goodbye. A few weeks later the salon owner received a note from the woman. She thanked him for the wonderful time she had that afternoon. His kindness and the fun they shared had given her hope enough to check herself into a hospital and seek help for her depression -- instead of taking her own life, as she had intended to do that evening. “Thank you for being there,” she wrote, “without knowing that you were.” Christ sent forth the nameless seventy-two disciples. He sent them out without any special provisions. They didn’t have a degree in theology or any certificates of ministry. He just sent them out to bring the gift of Peace to any home they entered. As salon owners and police officers, retirees, contractors and accountants, carpenters, grandparents and engineers, store clerks and teachers, parents and children, we, too, are sent forth by the same Christ to proclaim the same gift of God’s peace. We are the seventy-two sent today to proclaim peace that is centered in service and compassion, peace that enables us to wiggle the good out of even the most cynical heart, peace that comes when we stop long enough telling someone else how they should live their life and just listen to their story, peace that comes when we stop competing with each other and start helping each other. This is the Peace that comes back at us in blessings we never imagined. It’s so easy for any of us to develop a “the world owes me” attitude, that others exist to make our life easier and damn them if they don’t. But that’s not who we are, or at least not who we are called to be. We live our call to discipleship when we make others’ lives a bit more blessed, a tiny bit more joyful, a trifle less burdened. This call comes at the very root of what it means to follow Christ. It’s who we are. It’s what we do. Isaiah presents an image of Jerusalem as the nurturing mother to whom all may come to be fed and comforted. He goes on to say that when this kind of love is witnessed, hearts shall rejoice and bodies shall flourish. This is a great image of what we, as believers, have to give to the world, that place where others may come to be renewed and loved and comforted. This is the gift we have to offer and we have the Lord’s power to do what we are called to do because we believe (as St. Paul said) that the grace and peace of Christ is in our spirits. Disciples minister to the needs of others, however great those needs may be and with whatever little we have to offer: across our back yards and across borders, over a cup of coffee in a kitchen and over lunch in the break rooms of the factories. We bring others to Christ not in self-righteous posturing but in selfless giving. We have the privilege of being that “Jerusalem” of comfort when we take a walk with our kids and shop with our neighbors and after a long day, fall asleep next to our beloved. It’s what we do. It’s who we are. |
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13th sunday in ordinary time
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Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 26, 2022 “Some. A little. For a while.” Those were the only three measurements my Mom used when she cooked, the only three measurements she passed on to me. “Start with some of ‘this’ and add a little of ‘that’ and cook it for a while.” Those directions have served me quite well in the kitchen and, honestly, in life in general. For much of life, “some, a little and for a while” works quite well; black and white absolutes tend to make things worse. We back ourselves or others into corners; we, make promises or ultimatums we later regret; we commit to things we cannot possibly fulfill or condemn things that come back to haunt us. But when it comes to the invitation, the command, really, to follow Christ – “some, a little and for a while” doesn’t cut it. Jesus demands absolute. A little mercy isn’t enough. Some forgiveness won’t work. Our following for a while, as long as it is convenient, is not what he is looking for. And honestly, this is nothing new in God’s expectations of followers. Once Elisha slaughtered the oxen, broke up the plow to make a fire and fed the meat to his people, there was no turning back. His days of farming were over. He was committed, now, to follow Elijah as a prophet for the Lord. St. Paul made it very clear to the Galatians: Live by the Spirit. (period) The flesh, that is, worldly things, can have no power, no influence, no demand over you. “For freedom Christ set us free,” he writes to us. “You were called for freedom, brothers and sisters! Use it as an opportunity to serve one another through love, he implores. There’s no watering down that message. Jesus, on his way to Jerusalem, knowing the cross awaited him and his disciples, broke through every excuse, every “out,” every justification that his followers were bringing, and said in effect, there is no some, no little, no for a while. You either follow me or you don’t. We spend our lifetime discerning what that means, what it calls us to, what it demands of us. And the truth is that most of us are so good at operating in a “some, little and for a while” way of life that any absolute commitment escapes us. We find ourselves in half-hearted commitment of living the gospel. We pick and choose which teaching of Jesus we want to follow and which we will pretend doesn't exist. We put words in his mouth that were never spoken so as to conform to our political persuasion, or to support our worldly decisions, or to justify what we have done, are doing or plan to do. I’ll give Jesus some, but not too much. I’ll offer him a little of me, but just enough. I’ll follow for a while, as long as it’s convenient. But clearly, that’s not what he’s asking. Fortunately, for me in the kitchen, I can always try again. Fortunately for us, God is a God of second and third chances. But let’s be honest from the start, when Jesus says to us, “follow me,” it’s not a suggestion. |
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THE MOST HOLY TRINITY
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Feast of the Most Holy Trinity (No Audio)
June 12, 2022 If you had a chance to meet your hero, some famous person, someone you have admired from afar, who would it be? And how do you think you could make that happen? Whose people would your people have to call? And how would the meeting take place? Over lunch? A long walk? A glass of wine? A fantasy, perhaps, but what if??? What is so amazing, so wonderful and downright remarkable, so astounding - that when it comes to getting to know God we don’t have to fantasize! God has already taken the initiative; all we have to do is show up! That’s what we celebrate on this Feast of the Trinity. The Trinity is not about explaining God through some complex theology or coming to understand God through an intricate spirituality or an attempt to comprehend God with a far-reaching mysticism. It is simply about coming to know God. And God takes the initiative so that can happen! Because God is the Speaker; God is the Word that is spoken; God is the Interpreter of that Word. God is the Speaker, the one who does the talking. God speaks through the power of creation: the sunrise that breaks forth at dawn, the full moon that reflects the same sun in the darkness of night; God speaks in the chill of a winter day and the bud of a tree that mystically comes out of the branch at the first warmth of Spring; we come to know God in the seed that comes to life in a field overnight, the roar of an ocean and the smell of a warm rain; God is the first cry of every newborn and the last bit of wisdom that is spoken from the mouth of the dying. Thus says the Wisdom of the Lord! God is the Word made flesh: the child born of Mary who grew in wisdom and grace; the One who healed the sick and loved the outcast and forgave the sinner and welcomed the lost; God is the One who fulfilled every imperfect law and rule of his time and ours with love; God is the one who laughed and cried and worried and got angry and frustrated, the One who told ageless stories and made every earthly and human thing holy. God is the one who died but could not be contained by death. He is the Word who continues to live in us and through us and by us, the One who never left; the One who gathers us at the Table and then becomes fully present to us. God is the Interpreter. There is so much we have yet to learn about Him, so much more to get to know and embrace and discover and discern. We can’t possibly say we know all there is to know about God! Ever! But when we need it and when we are ready for it and when we are hungry enough or curious enough, God will be there helping us to know Him from another angle, from another point of view, with another perspective. It will be like sitting at the table with an old friend or our beloved, someone who we thought we knew all that we could know, and he’ll speak again. And we’ll say, “I never knew that about you! Why didn’t you tell me that before?” And God will just smile and say, “Well, I’m telling you now.” And once again we will know the delight God has for us; the love of God will be poured out in us; God will be glorified at that moment. This whole journey, this thing we call the Holy Trinity, is not about understanding God; it is about knowing God. It’s about our friendship, our loveship with God. And it’s only just begun. |
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THE MOST HOLY TRINITY
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The Most Holy Trinity
THE 4:00 HOMILY WAS GIVEN BY BISHOP DONALD HYING. THERE IS NOT WRITTEN SCRIPT BUT YOU CAN LISTEN TO THE AUDIO RECORDING |
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pentecost sunday
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Feast of Pentecost
June 5, 2022 Most of us find it easy to imagine God the Father, even if it’s the white-haired, bearded guy on the big throne. We see God in the beauty of creation, in a new-born baby, in the vastness of the ocean or the endless sky or a beautiful sunrise or sunset. We “get” God, the Father who made the heavens and the earth. And the Son, Jesus - pretty easy, too. Right? Artists and movies and Scripture all offer us images of Jesus that we, as fellow human beings, we can relate to. We “get” Jesus, the Son. But the Holy Spirit – that’s a different story. The Holy Spirit as tongues of fire or as wind or even as a bird just don’t give us a lot to hang our hats on. She’s just a bit more challenging to imagine in concrete terms. But here’s what the Holy Spirit looks like to me: The Holy Spirit looks like unity, never division. If division exists it’s a pretty good indication that the Holy Spirit is not at work. The Holy Spirit always unites, uniting us to God and God to us and us to one another. The Holy Spirit is at work when people listen to one another and honor each other. Sometimes when we hear someone else’s story of life it sounds like foreign language, so different than our own. But Pentecost teaches us that the Holy Spirit brings us to a place to hear and understand those stories, those experiences of life, as if it were our own truth. The Holy Spirit mends. She is present when forgiveness mends that which is been wounded and reconciliation heals that which has been broken. Divisions cannot exist under Her breath, for She is Peace. Peace that found its way through locked doors and fearful hearts and closed minds, as She did for the Apostles huddled in the upper room. And the Holy Spirit sets us free. Someone once told me in regard to a decision that his back was against the wall so that must be the sign of the Holy Spirit. Not in my book. The Holy Spirit never places our backs against the wall, but when we find ourselves there (and we will at times) it is She who takes us by the hand and leads us to freedom. The Spirit brings us through times of challenge and struggle with confidence and strength. The Spirit teaches us to dance even when the burden of sadness continues to sit on our shoulders, and helps us to rejoice when darkness enfolds us. The Holy Spirit is at work when we hold on to hope even as tears fill our eyes. In those times, when we feel chained and imprisoned by the limitations of our earthly existence, it is the Holy Spirit who brings us freedom. The Holy Spirit: elusive and bold at the same time; hard to capture and yet gentle, daring but still sly, quiet and at the same time, strong. Like breath itself, the Holy Spirit exists in us and yet most of the time we are hardly aware of Her presence. I can’t tell you how it happens, I’m just grateful that it does. Because with the Holy Spirit, and only with the Holy Spirit, can we truly be who God calls us to be. |
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feast of the ascension
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Feast of the Ascension
May 29, 2022 Power. It’s a word and we use it a lot. In the business world we have power brokers. In the athletic world, power lifters and power walkers and power hitters who drink Powerade. If we need a rest we take a power nap. Kids have Power Rangers and adults have Power of Attorney. If you donate blood you can give a Power Red donation. We refer to nations as world powers and leaders as powerful people. We consider willpower a favorable attribute and people strive to become part of the power elite. Then, we are on a power trip. But when Jesus promised the apostles that they would be clothed with power from on high, and St. Paul prayed that the people would know the surpassing greatness of his power for us who believe, and when Luke told the disciples that they would receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon us, we’re talking whole different language of power. This world bases power upon strength over another or control over another. We think of power as conquering our weakest part or reaching beyond our potential. We deal with power as something we achieve, and that we have power over another person or nation by reason of authority or threat or wealth. But the problem with that kind of power is that for every measure of power we achieve, someone is always working to undo it, surpass it, or take it away. There will always be someone coming along that is stronger, richer, smarter, more powerful. Every power we have in this world is a power that we can lose. And ultimately will lose. But to have power in Christ is to have a power that no one can take away. Ever. When you find yourself looking for ways to serve instead of being served, you have power in Christ. When you go out of your way to offer forgiveness instead of seeking revenge, you have power in Christ. When you create truly just systems instead of building walls of intimidation, you have power in Christ. When you choose to love instead of nurturing hatred toward another, you have power in Christ. When you find yourself walking with courage instead of cowering in fear, you have power in Christ. We spend so much of our life trying to achieve some sort of worldly power. And to what end? When we take advantage of the power that Christ has already given us in the Holy Spirit, we are powerful beyond measure. If we lived our lives with that power, we could conquer the world. Do you all have a “Happy Place?” You know, that place you go to when you just can’t handle any more…bad news, family drama, stress at work or school. You might be fortunate enough to have an actual place -a cabin or the deer stand or the lake shore. Or maybe you find that place on the back porch with a cup of something in your hand, or in your rocking chair with the rosary in your hand. We all need those places at times, more often than not, to find peace. Jesus knew his disciples would one day need that place, and more than just a place. The days were coming when he would no longer be with them; their world, as they had come to know it, would unravel. The first disciples would need it when there “arose no little dissension and debate” when they broached some very sensitive topics with the newly-converted Gentiles. The early church would have craved it when they faced persecution and torture. They needed, as we do today, that “happy place” to go where hope is restored and promise is renewed and forgiveness is nurtured and unity is created. And while we may have those places in our lives that help us to get there, the peace we look for and speak of today cannot be found simply in any particular place. It can only come from God. It is what Christ offers when he says, “My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.” It’s a different kind of peace than we find in our “happy places.” There we might look for peace as the condition of a world where there is no conflict, but we will be waiting for a long time. If we understand peace as the condition of our soul in perfect harmony, we’ll have to wait for the mystical “age of Aquarius”. If we see peace as perfect unanimity, we’ll be on an endless search. If we understand peace as that condition of life where there is no stress, good luck. We can only get true peace from one source: The Holy Spirit. If true peace is what we long for, we must never close the door to the Holy Spirit. Don’t give up on Her. For us, the peace we can only find in Christ, the gift of the Holy Spirit always reveals itself as hope, something to long for, something to work for. We are surrounded by reports of war and conflicts, up to our ears in stressful relationships at work and at home, overwhelmed by burdens of inflation and dysfunctional systems of government. Our hearts are often challenged to find compassion and our souls challenged to keep loving and our lives challenged to forgive, again. John was inspired by the Holy Spirit and saw hope in a vision of a holy city gleaming with the splendor of God, with angels guarding the gates, bringing people from all corners of the kingdom. It had no need of the sun or moon because the glory of the Lord gave it light. The ancestors of the Christian Church listened to the Holy Spirit and found a way to make it work, despite the obstacles they faced. We listen to the promise of Jesus Christ and remember that we too have been given the Holy Spirit. So, yes, once in a while we have to go to our happy place. But remember, where we go is far less important than what we pray for and listen to when we get there. “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you.” And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and every manner of thing shall be well. (Julian of Norwich) |
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6th sunday of easter
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Do you all have a “Happy Place?” You know, that place you go to when you just can’t handle any more…bad news, family drama, stress at work or school. You might be fortunate enough to have an actual place -a cabin or the deer stand or the lake shore. Or maybe you find that place on the back porch with a cup of something in your hand, or in your rocking chair with the rosary in your hand. We all need those places at times, more often than not, to find peace.
Jesus knew his disciples would one day need that place, and more than just a place. The days were coming when he would no longer be with them; their world, as they had come to know it, would unravel. The first disciples would need it when there “arose no little dissension and debate” when they broached some very sensitive topics with the newly-converted Gentiles. The early church would have craved it when they faced persecution and torture. They needed, as we do today, that “happy place” to go where hope is restored and promise is renewed and forgiveness is nurtured and unity is created. And while we may have those places in our lives that help us to get there, the peace we look for and speak of today cannot be found simply in any particular place. It can only come from God. It is what Christ offers when he says, “My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.” It’s a different kind of peace than we find in our “happy places.” There we might look for peace as the condition of a world where there is no conflict, but we will be waiting for a long time. If we understand peace as the condition of our soul in perfect harmony, we’ll have to wait for the mystical “age of Aquarius”. If we see peace as perfect unanimity, we’ll be on an endless search. If we understand peace as that condition of life where there is no stress, good luck. We can only get true peace from one source: The Holy Spirit. If true peace is what we long for, we must never close the door to the Holy Spirit. Don’t give up on Her. For us, the peace we can only find in Christ, the gift of the Holy Spirit always reveals itself as hope, something to long for, something to work for. We are surrounded by reports of war and conflicts, up to our ears in stressful relationships at work and at home, overwhelmed by burdens of inflation and dysfunctional systems of government. Our hearts are often challenged to find compassion and our souls challenged to keep loving and our lives challenged to forgive, again. John was inspired by the Holy Spirit and saw hope in a vision of a holy city gleaming with the splendor of God, with angels guarding the gates, bringing people from all corners of the kingdom. It had no need of the sun or moon because the glory of the Lord gave it light. The ancestors of the Christian Church listened to the Holy Spirit and found a way to make it work, despite the obstacles they faced. We listen to the promise of Jesus Christ and remember that we too have been given the Holy Spirit. So, yes, once in a while we have to go to our happy place. But remember, where we go is far less important than what we pray for and listen to when we get there. “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you.” And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and every manner of thing shall be well. (Julian of Norwich) |
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5th sunday of easter
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There are some movies, most in fact, that are once and done. You watch it, you enjoy it (or not) but you never have to see it again. And then there are others, like the “Wizard of Oz.” Every human being holds an obligation to its own generation to see that movie. Several times.
But I’m telling you, even steeled by an adult beverage and wrapped in my blanket, those flying monkeys are scary; they freak me out every time I watch it. Flying monkeys aside, though, what the movie offers is the timeless truth that is known so well: “There’s no place like home.” “Home,” wherever and however we created it, that place where we find peace and feel safe, where things are brought back into perspective, where burdens are shared and joys are celebrated. We create that “home” in our lives, where we ready ourselves to face the challenges, and where spirits are renewed. Perhaps that bit of human nature, known by God who placed it within us from the beginning of time, is why God also chose to make home with us. For generations, the people of Israel sought to find God and somehow make God’s dwelling among them. They travelled across the desert for forty years with the Ark of the Covenant in their possession; they fought wars; they created laws and rituals; they built temples and rebuilt them when they were destroyed. Led by prophets and sages they did everything they could to assure themselves that God would dwell with them. But in the end, it was not by their efforts, but God who made the choice to dwell with us. “God’s dwelling is with the human race,” John tells us. “He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them as their God.” Period. End of story. Or not. Like the generations that need to hear the Wizard of Oz proclaim what already seems so obvious and should be known, every generation needs to hear the message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the promise for people of all ages. We cannot and should not assume that everyone has seen the “movie.” Like the early disciples who took upon themselves the task to bring that message to towns and cities and countries well beyond their comfort zone and with names foreign to their tongue - Lystra and Iconium and Antioch, Pamphylia and Perga and Attalia, Ashwaubenon and Oconomowoc. So must we. It is our story to remember; our obligation to tell – God dwells among us. Being disciples of Jesus Christ might seem daunting, scarier even than flying monkeys. But Jesus made it so simple, so doable, so within our grasp, and he offered it with the simple command: love one another. It may have taken a tornado and a whole cast of characters for Dorothy to realize there was no place like home. For us, we need love. Before any word is preached or any sacred story told, before traditions of faith are lived or creeds of faith are proclaimed, before any church is built or any lesson is taught, there must be love. Period. End of story. Or just the beginning. |
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4th sunday of easter
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Fourth Sunday of Easter
May 8, 2022 It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize that we are a divided world. It’s amazing that we can even exist on the same planet. Some things divide us by absolute chance: The families into which we are born, our country of origin and language of birth, our physical or mental abilities or disabilities. It’s all by chance. We are also divided by age and sex and sexual orientation, by race and often by religion. But then it seems we go out of our way to create further divisions, even in our own Catholic religion, between Catholics who want to move the Church forward into the modern world, as prescribed by Vatican II, and those who want to return to pre-Vatican II church. We choose seemingly insurmountable political sides that run deep as the Grand Canyon. We are divided by rivers and oceans, of course, but then we further divide by which side of the tracks we live on, by city-dwellers and rural folk. We have differing allegiances to sports teams and differing loyalties to our alma mater. How does the God that has created all of us in His image and likeness, how does our God speak to this world that is so divided? How can the Good Shepherd possibly call his sheep when we are of such different flock? We know how God does not speak: Whenever we hear a voice that sounds coercive, that is somehow in-our-face and bullying, you can be sure that no matter how holy and righteous it might claim to be, no matter what authority it assumes or what threat it shouts, it is not the voice of God. It is not the voice of the Shepherd. That doesn’t mean that the voice of God is not a voice to be reckoned with; on the contrary. Certainly, the voice of God spoken through Paul and Barnabas was a powerful voice; there was nothing meek about it. Think of the courage it took to bridge the Jewish-Gentile gap and unite the brothers and sisters with this new faith in Christ. It doesn’t mean that the voice of God does not judge but it does so, not with words of condemnation but with a silent voice, like shaking the dust from the feet of the disciples. It doesn’t mean that the voice of God is timid. It is, in fact, very bold. But its authority is not in its volume or power, but in its commitment to love and protect, like that of a shepherd who calls his sheep into the fold. They know his voice; they follow him. So how, in the midst of our diversity, can we hear the voice of God? Let me ask you this: Do you know what it’s like to walk into a group of strangers and immediately feel welcomed? There is just a spirit of hospitality that is present. Or, how the presence of one person can melt a glacier of coldness that has settled in a room? Have you ever had someone offer a gentle touch, and somehow the pain of your wounded soul took a step toward healing? Or do you know how the innocence of a tiny child can expose our pettiness and just bring us back? Or how someone else’s generosity can expose our selfishness? Or how one person with a big heart can inspire a whole team? Or the kindness of a stranger can stop a crowd in their tracks? Do you know how, when you are in the midst of an argument, by just taking a breath, pausing long enough for a moment of silence, you can stop it from turning into an all-out brawl? Or how a song can come on the radio, bring a tear to your eye and take you from planning revenge to planning reconciliation? Do you ever remember a moment when you were sure you were the only one who felt this or did this or saw the world as you did, and someone said, “Ya, me too”? That’s the voice of God. This is the voice of the Shepherd. This is the voice that, while it won’t take away what divides us, can bring everything together. This is the voice that calls us to be one with him and with each other. Listen to that voice. |
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3rd sunday of easter
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Third Sunday of Easter - First Communion Sunday
May 1, 2022 One of the rites of initiation you go through when you grow up on a dairy farm is learning to drive a tractor, and then next, to rake hay. Now, for you non-farmers, let me tell you a little bit about raking hay. After the hay was mowed down and had dried a couple of days, you would drive through the field pulling a hay rake that would roll the dried-hay into windrows. Later the baler would pick up the windrowed hay and make it into bales. Raking hay is the first real tractor-machinery job you are given for two reasons: First of all, it is as safe as you can get. Second of all, it is easy. You just drive around and around the field. You can’t really mess it up. Well, most people can’t. I did. I don’t know how it happened but one day I started going around the field the wrong way. Do you know what happens when you do that? You just keep making one really, really big windrow of hay. And, do you know what else happens? Dad gets really, really mad. I was sure that day that I had lost my place in the hierarchy of sons, that I’d never be allowed on a tractor again. I left the field in tears as I watched my older brother trying to fix the mess I had made. The next day there was more hay to rake, and to my surprise, Dad sent me right back out to the field with the same tractor and the same rake. I learned two things that day. I learned what clockwise meant. I also learned something about forgiveness. You are making cookies and you drop the bowl, but Mom just mixes another batch of dough. We dent the car, but we are handed the keys again. Angry words are exchanged with your spouse, but you are invited back into their embrace. You defy your parent’s authority but they still give you a place to call home. You offend your friend, but they still pour you a glass of wine. We ignore Jesus for years but we are invited back to his Table again. It’s what Jesus did that morning for Peter and the disciples – he forgave them and he sent them out into the field. The disciples had abandoned Jesus in his crucifixion; Peter denied that he even knew him. Still, Jesus filled their empty nets with fish. He invited them to breakfast. He welcomed Peter back into a love relationship. He helped them know they were not defined by their mistakes and failures; neither are we. We are defined by God’s love for us. Over and over again our empty nets are filled. Over and over again we are invited back to the table. Over and over again we are welcomed to proclaim our love of Christ. Over and over again we are forgiven. Over and over again we take up our responsibilities to witness the gospel. The only question that remains is the question that the disciples faced: Will you follow him? |
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2nd sunday of easter
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Second Sunday of Easter
April 24, 2022 “Wow! What up with her? What’s gotten into him?” Oh, wait. Wait, I read that wrong. “Wow! What’s up with her? What’s gotten into him?” That is what everyone was saying about the disciples! What’s up with these guys? What happened? We know them; they are just the ordinary guys, women we’ve known forever. Just days ago, they were cowering in fear behind locked doors, worried that what Jesus endured, they would be next. They were afraid and trembling, amazed but still in the dark, still confused. What happened to them between those days, from when they were huddled in fear behind locked doors, and what we hear today: Peter preaching and healing boldly and courageously right in the midst of the crowds at the temple? This is the one who just days before denied that he even knew Jesus, yet now was eloquently proclaiming the power of Christ, so much so that people were hoping that even his shadow would fall upon them. What happened was that they came to believe. They came to the realization, the conviction, the faith that Jesus was the Christ -Lord and God- AND the breath of God came upon them, the power of Christ was now in them. That’s what got into them. That’s what was up with them. When that happens, when that deep moment of faith takes root in our lives, when that message of salvation, God’s love on full display in the death and resurrection is truly known, not a thinly veiled hope but a deep and enduring faith - then the only viable, logic, feasible thing to do is to tell others. Proclaim it. Live it. Share it. Because once that faith explodes, nothing will be the same. Nothing can remain as it was. Everything becomes new and changing and powerful…and dangerous and risky and a bit “out there.” Isn’t that exactly what Easter should do for all of us? Isn’t that exactly what the world needs from us who believe? Not to cower in our small, safe circle of fellow believers here in church, but to get the message out there! This is not a time to be shy; this is the time to take what we have been given and do something with it. John, in his narrative that he wrote on the island of Patmos (in what we now know as the Book of Revelation) is almost always misinterpreted as something about the end of times, a scary and intimidating story of what is about to happen. But that’s not at all what John was trying to say. If that’s all it was about, the world would have ended long ago. What John was offering was a symbolic prediction of what was coming, and, in fact, what was already here in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Everything old was passing away; what was being revealed was everything new. The other disciples found their way to proclaim it; John found a way to say it with rich symbolic and colorful imagery and language. This is the start of something new. The resurrection changes everything. Everything has to be reinterpreted, reprioritized, reordered. Everything must now be seen through different eyes, even death itself. My friends, if Easter did not do that for us, or is not in the process of doing for us, then we need to hear it again. And again. And again, until we are so converted by what Christ has done for us that people will begin to ask about us: “Wow! What’s up with her? She’s like a different person. What’s gotten into him? I’ve never seen him like that before!” |
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EASTER sunday
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Easter Sunday
April 17, 2022 We’ve all heard it before, right? Even Peter began his great preaching with “You know what has happened…” So why do we take all this time to listen to all these stories again? They don’t change. They stay the same year after year after year. We do it because this is the story of our salvation. Every Easter morning, we listen to these same scripture readings because it is who we are and who we are destined to become. It’s the same reason why we tell stories when we gather with our families, passing on legends to yet another generation. It is why middle-age athletes talk of the glory days and why veterans recall the war stories and why fishermen tell the stories of the one that got away. It is why lovers recall the day they met, and friends remember the good ol’ days. They remind us where we’ve come from and they tell us who we are. And they also tell us what we must do. The resurrection of Jesus may, indeed, be old news; we didn’t have to check our news feeds this morning to find out if He had really risen! But our resurrection is not old news; it is being written even as we gather this morning. The scripture stories may have been written and recorded long ago; our story is still being written. The question is not whether Jesus is going to come out of the tomb. What we have to decide is whether WE are willing to come out of OUR tombs! Will we become the people God has called us to be? When we find it difficult to articulate our faith, when it all seems so confusing and complex -like the disciples who did not yet understand- will we search for new words, new examples, new images? Will we find new yeast to add to the dough, as St. Paul encouraged the people of Corinth? When others are stuck in their tombs of darkness and loneliness, will we listen and have the insight to help them to find the presence of the living Christ? Will we have the courage to run back and tell the others in our world today that Christ who died is now alive? The resurrection to which Easter calls us to is not a moment of history, it is a moment to create our own history! The Resurrection we proclaim with ritual and song and word requires that we search for God by listening with new ears and seeing with new eyes. It requires us to listen not only to the stories that never change, but also to the stories that are being written in each other’s lives today. We need to live every day expecting God to surprise us, in ways we never thought we’d see and through the words we never thought we’d hear. Easter is all about stories, those told and those yet to be written. In those stories we find out who we are and who we might become. And we remember that Christ is indeed risen. He is alive. He is with us. And that, my friends, makes all the difference in the world. |
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EASTER VIGIL (NO AUDIO AVAILABLE)
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Easter Vigil 2022
April 16, 2001 We’ve all heard it before, right? This creation stuff, and God asking Abraham to sacrifice his son, the parting of the sea. We’ve heard the promises and admonitions of the prophets and St. Paul telling us that we have been “...buried with Jesus in the baptism of death.” And of course, the stories of the empty tomb and the amazement of the disciples. So why take all this time to listen to all these stories again? They don’t change. They stay the same year after year after year. We do for one simple reason: This story of our salvation history. We take the time every year at this Easter Vigil to proclaim and listen because it is where we have come from; it is who we are. It’s as simple as that. It’s the same reason why we tell stories when we gather with our families, passing on legends to yet another generation. It is why middle-age athletes talk about the glory days and why veterans recall the war stories and why fishermen tell about the one that got away. It is why lovers recall the day they met, and friends remember the good-ol’ days. Because these stories tell of our life history; they remind us where we’ve come from and tell who we are. It’s as simple as that. Our faith stories need to be told again for the sake of Sarah who will be baptized tonight along with her daughters. We tell them for the sake of Jacob and Kim and Hannah and Ryan, for Jill and Josh, for Zach and Heidi and Gabe and Chole, all of whom will be fully initiated into the Church tonight. We tell the stories of faith for those of us who are struggling to understand who God is and how He might be working -or not working- in their lives. We tell the stories for the guests and the visitors who may not have heard them before, and for those who have heard them so many times they could recite them verbatim. I listen to these stories of faith, so that as a priest I may never lose touch with the people I am a part of, and whom I am called to serve. These stories of faith tell us who we are. And they also tell us what we must do. The resurrection of Jesus may, indeed, be old news; our resurrection is not. The stories may have been written and recorded long ago; our story is still being written. The question is not whether Jesus is going to come out of the tomb (We know that!); what we have to decide is whether WE are willing to come out of our tombs! Will we continue the creation story and become the people God has called us to be so that the Creator looks at us and cries out: “This is good!”? Will we, pass the test of faith as Abraham did, and reward the world with faithfulness for the generations to come? The Israelites began a whole new life of freedom when the Egyptians were washed away in the sea. How will our lives change tonight when we renounce evil in our lives and renew our baptismal promises? What prophets inspire us and what voices admonish us so that we may be what the Church calls us to be as a holy people? And when we find it difficult to articulate our faith, when it seems confusing and complex, will we persevere to find the words to inspire others like Paul did for the people of Rome? When others have are stuck in their tombs of darkness and loneliness with terror and amazement, will we listen to their stories with wonder and awe? Will we have the insight to help them to find the presence of the living Christ and come out of the tomb? Will we have the courage to run back and tell the others in our world today that despite the culture of death, Christ who died is now very much alive? The resurrection to which Easter calls us to is not a moment of history, it is to create our own history! The Resurrection we proclaim with ritual and song and word requires that we prepare to find God by listening with new ears and seeing with new eyes. It requires us to listen not only to the stories that never change, but also to the stories that are being written in each other’s lives today. We must be prepared to be surprised by God in strange places, in ways we never thought we’d see, and through the words of those we never thought we’d hear. Easter is all about stories, those told and those yet to be written. In those stories we find out who we are and who we might become. And in that, we find that Christ is indeed risen. He is alive. He is with us. “ALLELUIA!!” |
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