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.
Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Joji
Father Joji
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Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Randy
Father Randy
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Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Randy
Father Randy
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Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Savio
Father Savio
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Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Joji
Father Joji
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Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Randy
Father Randy
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Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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The Transfiguration of the Lord
Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Randy
Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Randy
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The Transfiguration of the Lord
Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Randy
Father Randy
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Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Savio
Father Savio
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Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Joji
Father Joji
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Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Randy
Father Randy
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Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Randy's first weekend
Father Randy's first weekend
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Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
No written homily available. Click the audio button to the right to listen. |
Audio Recording
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Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
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Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
(DO NOT BE AFRAID) DO ANY OF YOU REMEMBER A WOMAN BY THE NAME OF JEAN DRISCOLL? YEARS AGO SHE WON THE WOMENS WHEELCHAIR DIVISION OF THE BOSTON MARATHON. AFTER WINNING, STORIES OF HER LIFE HIT THE NEWSPAPER AND I REMEMBER READING ONE PARTICULAR ARTICLE WHERE SHE SAID, AS A KID SHE WAS AFRAID OF THE LONG TERM CONSEQUENCES OF HER HANDICAP AND WHAT HER LIFE WOULD BE LIKE CONFINED TO A WHEELCHAIR. CONSTANTLY ANGRY AT GOD, SHE SAID SHE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND WHY THINGS, LIKE HER HANDICAP EXISTED, WHEN SHE KNEW THERE WAS A LOVING GOD WHO SEEMED TO BE TAKING CARE OF EVERYONE…BUT HER. THE ARTICLE WENT ON TO SAY THAT HER FEELINGS OF BEING AFRAID…OF NOT KNOWING WHAT HER FUTURE WOULD BE LIKE AND HER FEELINGS OF ANGER, EVENTUALLY CHANGED AFTER WITNESSING THE LIVES OF SOME OF HER FRIENDS …AND HOW THEIR FAITH SPOKE LOUD AND CLEAR THRU THEIR WORDS AND ACTIONS. JEAN DISCROLL REALIZED THAT BEING CONFINED TO A WHEELCHAIR WAS JUST A CHARACTERISTIC…AND NOT A DEFINING PRINCIPLE OF HER LIFE. AND OVERCOMING HER FEARS, SHE BELIEVED GOD HAD A PLAN FOR HER…AND IN FULFILLING THAT PLAN SHE BELIEVED THAT NO MATTER WHO WE ARE…OR WHAT WE HAVE OR DON’T HAVE IN LIFE, THERE IS ALWAYS A CARING, COMPASSIONATE GOD WHO HELPS US OVERCOME OUR FEARS….THOSE MOMENTS OF BEING AFRAID OF NOT KNOWING WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS FOR US. THAT KIND OF FAITH PROVIDED HER WITH THE HOPE…THE STRENGTH AND THE COURAGE TO COMPETE IN THE BOSTON MARATHON. IN THE GOSPEL TODAY, JESUS IS TALKING TO HIS DISCIPLES ABOUT THE FEARS, THE PERSECUTION…THE OPPRESSION THEY MAY ENCOUTER AS HE SENDS THEM OUT ON THEIR MISSION TO PROCLAIM THE GOOD NEWS. HE REMINDS THEM NOT TO BE AFRAID AND REINFORCES THAT BY LETTING THEM KNOW …REMINDING THEM ABOUT THE MEANING AND IMPORTANCE OF THEIR LIVES. AND IN DOING THAT HE TALKS ABOUT, OF ALL THINGS, SPARROWS. SPARROWS WERE CONSIDERED, IN JESUS’ DAY, TO BE THE LEAST SIGNIFICANT OF ALL CREATURES. YET JESUS SAYS THAT GOD PROVIDES FOR THEM…THAT THEY ARE VERY IMPORTANT AND VALUABLE TO GOD, EVEN IF THEY ARE CONSIDERED THE MOST COMMON AND MOST INSIGNIFICANT BIRD IN THE WORLD. AND JESUS GOES ON TO SAY THAT IF GOD PROVIDES FOR THESE INSIGNIFICANT SPARROWS, HOW MUCH MORE WILL GOD PROVIDE FOR US, ESPECIALLY WHEN HE KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT US…EVEN AS THE GOSPEL STATED….THE NUMBER OF HAIRS ON OUR HEAD (AND FOR SOME OF US THE COUNTING IS ALITTLE BIT EASIER FOR GOD. THAT IMAGE OF KNOWING HOW MANY HAIRS ON OUR HEAD IS PROBABLY AN EXAGGEREATED WAY OF SAYING, GOD KNOWS ALL ABOUT US…THAT GOD KNOWS ABOUT OUR NEEDS...OUR FEARS...OR WORRIES…OUR CONCERNS. GOD KNOWS ALL ABOUT OUR JOYS AND WHATEVER ELSE MAKES OUR LIVES MEANINGFUL AND FULFILLILNG. AND IN THAT KNOWING GOD WILL PROVIDE FOR US WHAT WE TRULY NEED, BECAUSE HE DEEPLY CARES WHAT HAPPENS TO US. THAT’S CERTAINLY REASSURING TO THOSE OF US WHO MIGHT BE FACED WITH A LIFE THREATENING ILLNESS…THAT’S COMFORTING TO KNOW FOR THOSE OF US WHO MAY HAVE RECENTLY LOST A LOVED ONE…IT’S A SOURCE OF HOPE IN LIGHT OF SOME OF THE DIFFICULTIES AND CHALLENGES WE FACE IN LIFE. IT WILL BRING US PEACE OF MIND AS WE FACE THE CHANGES BOTH LOCALLY AND WITHIN THE DIOCESE AS ANOTHER PART OF THE “INTO THE DEEP” INITIATIVE IS IMPLEMENTED NEXT WEEKEND. IN A BOOK TITLED, “GOD NEVER FAILED ME”, THERES A HUMOROUS STORY ABOUT 2 NUNS WHO WERE DELIVERING ALL KINDS OF MEDICAL SUPPLIES TO A NURSING HOME, WHEN THEIR CAR RAN OUT OF GAS. THEY SEARCHED THE ENTIRE CAR FOR A GAS CAN BUT THE ONLY SORT OF CONTAINER THEY COULD FIND THAT COULD HOLD GAS WAS A BED PAN, YES, A BED PAN FROM THEIR MEDICAL SUPPLIES.AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT BED PANS ARE USED FOR. SO THE SISTERS WALKED TO THE NEAREST GAS STATION AND FILLED THE BED PAN WITH GAS. THEN RETURING TO THE CAR, THEY CAREFULLY BALANCED THE BED PAN AND BEGAN TO POUR THE GAS INTO THE TANK. WELL, ABOUT THAT TIME A MAN DRIVING A PICK UP TRUCK APPROACHED AND WHEN HE SAW WHAT WAS GOING ON, HE CAME TO A COMPLETE STOP…AND MARVELING AT WHAT HE THOUGHT HE WAS SEEING, HE STUCK HIS HEAD OUT THE TRUCK WINDOW AND SAID..”SISTERS, I’M NOT CATHOLIC, BUT I’LL TELL YOU WHAT…I SURE ADMIRE YOUR FAITH. GOD NEVER FAILS US…THERE’S NEVER ANY REASON TO FEAR, IF OUR FAITH IS STRONG ENOUGH TO WITHSTAND THE CHALLENGES OF LIFE. WE HAVE PEOPLE LIKE JEAN DRISCOLL WHO WON THE WHEELCHAIR DIVISION OF THE BOSTON MARATHON WHOSE FAITH, NOT ONLY GAVE HER THE DETERMINATION TO OVERCOME HER PHYSICAL FEARS TO COMPETE IN THE MARATHON, BUT MORE IMPORTANT, REAFFIRMED GODS LOVE FOR HER. I AM SURE THERE ARE MANY OF YOU RIGHT HERE IN THIS PARISH WHO ARE WONDERFUL EXAMPLES OF HOW YOUR FAITH HAS CARRIED YOU THRU VERY DIFFICULT AND CHALLENGING TIMES…A FAITH NURTURED, STRENGTHENED AND SUSTAINED BY GODS LOVE, CARE AND CONCERN. SO WHATEVER IS HAPPENING IN OUR LIVES… WHATEVER IS GOING TO HAPPEN IN THIS PARISH AS YOU FACE NEW CHANGES AND CHALLENGES…LETS REMEMBER THAT GOD’S LOVE FOR US IS SO GREAT THAT HE WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU…AND ME…ALL THAT WE NEED TO MEET THE CHALLENGES OF LIFE. SO …DO NOT BE AFRAID. |
Audio Recording
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Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
Father Gary's Final Weekend in Portage and Briggsville
Father Gary's Final Weekend in Portage and Briggsville
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Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
Final Weekend in Portage and Briggsville June 18, 2023 Thirty-nine years ago, on June 15th, I was ordained a priest for the Diocese of Madison. On that day, as I knelt before Bishop O’Donnell, I made a promise of obedience to him and to all his successors. I have kept that promise, a promise that led me here to Portage and Briggsville ten years ago. At that time, I could never have imagined the blessings and graces that I would receive over the next decade. Now, that same promise of obedience leads me to say good-bye. There is (obviously) sadness in that task - but most of all gratitude. So, today I need to thank you… Thank you for welcoming me into your parish, your lives, your homes and your hearts. That welcome is a treasure that we, as priests, depend upon, and has made these past ten years such a rich blessing. Thank you for taking my crazy ideas and guiding some of them into reality. The renovation of our churches will stand as a concrete reminder of those ideas. Others may be less visible, but I hope will stand with the same majestic endurance: what we have done to gather the community, the family of God; of how the mercy has healed wounds and made us a stronger family. I hope those, too, are as memorable and valid as any renovation. Thank you for accepting me for the gifts I may have brought to the table, for giving me the confidence to use those gifts to plant a seed of hope or a vision for a tomorrow, or to put a smile on your face, or comfort you in your grief. Thank you for forgiving me for those times I did anything that offended you, or failed to do something I could have. I am humble enough to know that I was not the Pastor you sometimes wished I would be. Most of all, thank you for helping me become a better Pastor, a better priest and a better man. What I ask of you today is simple: Like the disciples, without cost we have received, without cost we give. You are the workers of the vineyard; just continue to proclaim the Kingdom of God. So, if I have helped you grow closer to God in any way, please make it your mission to help someone else do that same, so that they will remember that they, too, are in the holy presence of God. And if I revealed God’s love to you in any way, reveal that to someone who feels unloved, so that they, too, will never forget that truth that you have heard me say a thousand times: there is nothing we can do to make God love us any more, and there is nothing we can do to make God love us any less. God just loves. If I have made God’s Word a little more accessible to you in my homilies, share that message with someone else, so that they may know that God is at work in their lives, too. If I have opened your heart to the mercy of God in any way, offer that mercy to someone who needs it, because the kingdom of God begins and ends with God’s mercy. At the end of Mass today, I will leave my vestments at the presider’s chair. It is my time to relinquish this privilege to someone else, my time to entrust you, my dear flock, into the hands and heart of yet another pastor who will shepherd you will love. Two weekends from now, Fr. Randy will put those vestments on and, fulfilling his promise of obedience, and will become your Pastor and come to love you, and be loved by you, just as I have. May the Good Shepherd continue to bless you in all that you have been to me - and all that you are - and all that you have yet to become. |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi)
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The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi)
June 11, 2023 A couple weeks ago, I visited a long-time friend of mine that was celebrating his 40th anniversary of Ordination. Since we were close by, we decided to take a drive to St. John’s University and Abbey, where we went to seminary. At the time we were there, back in the early 80’s, there were about 200 monks that also lived and worked and taught there, a Benedictine community of men. One of the things we were reminiscing about was how they would process into the chapel for Mass on Sundays. They would come down the aisle two-by-two and when they got to the front, they would bow to the altar in recognition of its sacredness, before the table at which they gathered to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. And then they would turn and bow to each other –a recognition of the sacredness of each other, another place where Christ was present. I’ve always thought those two simple bows proclaimed more about what we celebrate today in the Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ than anything else: The reverence and appreciation of the Body of Christ we receive - and the Body of Christ we become. That simple exchange of bows proclaims the profound mystery in which we are so privileged to participate every time we gather for Mass. To bow to the altar is to acknowledge that it is here where the deepest of our hungers are fed. We have hunger of body and spirit and mind that are fed in countless ways, but there lies within each of us a hunger of the deepest kind, one that often has no word to describe, that only Christ –and Christ alone- can feed. At this deepest place within us, where we are most vulnerable and most afraid and broken, Christ offers himself to comfort us, strengthen us, assure us, enliven us like nothing else can or ever will. To bow to each other is to acknowledge that in each of us, Christ also dwells. The very life of the Risen Lord already abides within us, not by our merit, of course, but simply because that’s what God wants to do. So, we recognize holiness, the Christ, that is present in ourselves and within all of our brothers and sisters. The monks at St. John’s taught me a lot in those simple bows that began their liturgy, because no matter how their day was going or who they processed in with, whether they just came from the classroom or the kitchen or from the fields, whether they were old and had seen many seasons or whether they were a novice and just getting started, whether they liked their brother or were challenged to like them -- it was the recognition of Christ’s presence in the Eucharist and in each other that held them together. They knew what every wise and healthy family comes to know, that we must all be home at regular times and gather around the table. They knew what every community of faith comes to know, that we must also gather around this Table- even if it isn’t exciting, even if things are left unspoken, even if some are bored and others are protesting that this isn’t worthwhile. We will do this because, if we don’t, we will soon fall apart as a parish family. We need the manna of the Eucharist, and we need to remember the presence of Christ in each other. We need God. We need each other. We can bow before that truth. |
Audio Recording
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Trinity Sunday
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Trinity Sunday (The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity)
June 4, 2023 
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Audio Recording
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Feast of Pentecost
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Feast of Pentecost
May 28, 2023 Tammy was always an inquisitive girl, so it did not surprise her Mom when she came up to her one day and inquired, “Mom, where did I come from? I mean how did I get here?” Of course, Mom, her brain now kicking into Mommy-mode said, “Well honey, God made you out of love. Because your Mommy and Daddy love each other so much, God helped them make you.” Tammy kind of nodded and walked away, and Mom breathed a sigh. But Tammy obviously was not satisfied. She went out the back where Dad was working and asked, “Daddy, where did I come from? I mean how did I get here?” Dad, barely looking up, said, “Well, honey, a long time ago we were all apes and monkeys. And eventually, over the years, those apes and monkeys turned into human beings. That’s where you came from.” She went back to the kitchen, walked right back to Mommy and said, “Mommy, you said God made me out of love. Daddy said I came from a bunch of apes. How can that be?” Mom, without missing a beat, said, “Honey, I was talking about my side of the family; Daddy was talking about his.” It is good for all of us, on this Feast of Pentecost, to remember where we came from. We are a faith community that bears the name of Christ, a church that was born by the gift of the Holy Spirit. At the first Pentecost, Jews from every nation under heaven were gathered in Jerusalem. The astonishment of that day was not that they all of a sudden spoke the same language or found a common tongue. The astonishment and the amazement created by the Holy Spirit was that for the first time, every one of them, no matter where they came from, heard the voice of the Holy Spirit. The gift was not to give everyone the same language or to take away their native tongue. The Holy Spirit gave them the gift to hear how the mighty acts of God were about all of their lives. Some years later, Paul spoke that same truth when he said that we are many parts but of the same body; that there are different gifts and different forms of service and different workings, but the same God that produces them. The church was created out of the many gifts bonded together by the love of Jesus Christ. This was the Spirit of which Jesus spoke when he breathed on the disciples and sent them forth. How is it that we so easily forget this simple truth? How is it that we think that unity can only be created through uniformity? That only if we wear the same color and live on this side of the border and speak the same language and live the same story will we be at our best? How is it that we come to fear those who are different? Hate those who stretch our boundaries? Why is it that as a church and as a people we sometimes work so hard to find ways to divide, and work so little to gather together? To remember Pentecost is to remember where we came from. We remember that each person came to be by the will and love and design of God. By the hand of God we are created with different shapes and sizes and hopes and loves, formed in different cultures and with different traditions and with different dreams and interests and gifts. Can we not trust then, that the same hand of God, who created this myriad of wonder, will not by the Holy Spirit, make us one? Not to be pureed together in some cosmic blender, nor to separate us in some overgrown centrifuge. The Church in which you and I are about to profess our faith was brought about by the Holy Spirit so that our individual beauty and magnificence and wonder and awe might never be lost, but together, would become a living manifestation of God’s glory. |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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Feast of the Ascension
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Feast of the Ascension
May 21, 2023 The end is near, liturgically speaking. Next weekend we will celebrate Pentecost and bring an end to the fifty-days of the Easter Season. That’s liturgically. But sometimes it’s hard to remember where we are in our liturgical season when we are immersed in other seasons, like Graduation Season. [St. Mary School had a 4k graduation (complete with cap and gowns) this past week.] Grade schools and high schools and colleges and universities all bid farewell to the Class of 2023 in these weeks. ‘Tis the Graduation season! As different as they are, these two seasons do overlap a bit, though. What we know in our culture graduations touch on what the disciples must have experienced as they witnessed Christ ascend to the heavens. For the graduates of Jesus’ School of Discipleship, it had to be an exciting moment, but it probably scared the begeebers out of them at the same time. Like graduates of today, there was wonder: the wonder that surrounded the moment of mystical transition in their lives as they came to understand Jesus’ ascension and what it meant, and the wondering: now what do we do? But here is the difference: in our graduation culture today, the institutions of education cut the ties; Jesus does not. Aside from an occasional alumni appeal, graduation is a (wave good-bye) “see-ya” moment. Another class takes our spot, our spot in the band or on the team is surrendered to another, our sacred lockers are taken over by a stranger, a new teacher’s favorite takes our place. Schools, whether grade schools or high schools or colleges or medical schools or any other institution of higher education do what they do - educate you and send you forth. Amen. But when Christ ascended to the heavens it was not a Hallmark good-bye-and-good-luck moment. The Ascension of Jesus is a forever moment, a timeless moment that we celebrate every year, because Jesus does not cut the ties. Jesus does not abandon his disciples; he ascends to allow his disciples -then and now- so that we might now do what he had done: to witness the love of God. He trusts us to tell the story of his love; it is our time to proclaim the truth, our time to show the way. “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teach(ing) them to observe all that I have commanded you.” We don’t celebrate an ending with the Ascension, we celebrate a beginning. There is work to be done. We are sent forth to be witnesses of Christ’s love. But we don’t do so alone. Jesus promises, “I am with you always, until the end of the age.” At graduations schools cut the strings. Jesus didn’t. In a world of endings and beginnings, we have Christ, with whom there is no end. So, fellow disciples, expect no cards of congratulations today; this is not a moment of glory for us. We are not on this earth to make a name for ourselves but to glorify the name of God. We are not on this earth to build a kingdom unto ourselves, but do build the Kingdom of God. It is our task to relieve suffering, to end violence and war, to remove ignorance, to heal wounds and to eliminate division, to promote understanding, to spread love, to live justice. We are sent forth, not to accomplish something great for ourselves, but to accomplish something great for God. And God, our God, is with us always. The path to discipleship is to step out and walk on the water of faith in the one who sends us into mission. And when we commit ourselves to that task, that my friends, is the tassel-flipping moment. |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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Sixth Sunday of Easter
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Sixth Sunday of Easter
May 14, 2023 It’s the Sixth Sunday of Easter and we’ll wrap this Season up with the Feast of Ascension next week and then Pentecost the weekend after that. We should have it down by now, right? Jesus died and then rose from the dead. We’ve heard the stories: the empty tomb, the road to Emmaus, Jesus coming through locked doors, all that stuff. Right? And week after week, we’ve heard of how the disciples came out from behind those locked doors and began to do what Jesus had told them to do. With courage and passion, they traveled throughout the known world and proclaimed the love of Christ to anyone who would listen. They did it with gentleness and reverence, sometimes suffering for doing good. But they did it. That’s the Easter Story and we’re sticking to it. But what sometimes is missing from all this is if anything has happened to us over the last six weeks. As Christians, we have the same mission as Jesus had from his Father, the same mission he gave to the first disciples: to spread the good news of the Father’s love and compassion and mercy. Our mission, like that of Jesus, and like that of the disciples, is to do our part to build the kingdom of God in our day - a kingdom of justice, of peace and of love. Like Jesus, we are sent to those who are hanging on by a thread and give them hope; we are sent to forgive those who have crossed the line and offended us, just as we have been forgiven; we are sent to feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty and welcome the stranger and cloth the naked and house the homeless. That was the mission of Jesus; it is the mission on which he sent his disciples; it is our mission - to be the presence of the risen Christ in the world. Jesus could do what he did because the Father was one with him and he was one with the Father. But Jesus gave us another advocate, another helper, the Spirit of truth, to be with us, to show us the way. God living in us, we living in God. In very simple terms: we’re not orphans! We’re not out here alone. We have everything we need, every power, every strength, every vision to do what Jesus has asked us to do. The Easter story did not end with the resurrection, and it certainly can’t be told in six weeks. The Easter story lived on through the words and work of the disciples. Now, it becomes our story to proclaim. The gift of the Holy Spirit was given not for our sake, not to make our life somehow easier, not for our glory, but for the sake of our mission to others. The prayer you heard at the altar over the past few weeks (and will hear again today) proclaims, “Through [Christ] the children of light rise to eternal life and the halls of the heavenly kingdom are thrown open to the faithful; for his Death is our ransom from death, and in his rising, the life of all has risen.” As we near the last days of this Easter Season, we need to ask ourselves this: Jesus has risen to new life. Have we? |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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Fifth Sunday of Easter
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Fifth Sunday of Easter
May 7, 2023 It was in 1980; I was in college and in the process of switching paths from a career in law enforcement to priesthood. A part of the application process required letters of recommendation. So, I asked Fr. Drake Shaefer, the college chaplain, to write one of those letters. I don’t have the letter, nor do I remember most of it. But one line seared a place into my soul. “Gary is always willing to do the simple tasks that need to be done, like setting up tables and taking down chairs. I hope he never forgets.” I cannot begin to tell you how many times in my life those words have come back, not to haunt me, but to remind me of who I am and what I am called to do as a priest. It was a different setting 2000 years ago but the same message: The disciples were busy with the task of proclaiming the gospel, doing what Jesus asked them to do: “Go out to all the world and tell the Good News!” But in the midst of that, they noticed that some of the widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. So, they appointed some of their number to do the work of caring for the poor. It wasn’t that the early church saw the work of preaching more important than the work of charity, or the other way around, but they did realize that the mission of proclaiming the Good News had many voices. Did Jesus not say the same thing when he was preparing his disciples for the mission? “I am the way, the truth and the life. And no one comes to the Father except through me.” Didn’t he teach us the way when he fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, healed the leper, ate with the sinners, and washed his disciple’s feet? The early Church community, even in its infancy, realized that following the way of Christ meant charity for all. Didn’t he teach us the truth when he taught us that no one is outside of God’s love, no one is outside the embrace of his mercy, that the little children were first in the kingdom, that we must forgive as we have been forgiven? Only in Christ do we get a sense of a divine love in which to operate and measure. Christ teaches a truth of heart that leads us through this complicated and ever-changing, diverse and (seemingly) always divided and violent world. Didn’t he show us the way to life was the way of sacrifice? That only when we are willing to give our life away: our time, our treasures, our gifts, only then will we ever find the way of true peace. In fact, didn’t he show us that the only way to eternal life is the way of the cross? As Christians today, disciples of Jesus Christ, we have the same mission as Jesus had from his Father, to spread the good news of the Fathers’ love, of God’s compassion and mercy. Our mission, like that of Jesus, is to be a part of creating the Kingdom of God of earth, in our own homes and communities - a kingdom of justice, of peace and love. And, yes, sometimes that includes the noble and privileged opportunity of preaching and teaching; sometimes it is wrapped discreetly in simple acts of kindness and compassion, in simple prayers and words we offer to each other. Sometimes it happens here in church, but more often in our homes and schools and workplaces. Sometimes it is witnessed in faithful marriage and other relationships of sacred love, other times it is witnessed in an unexpected moment between strangers who will never see each other again. And, yes, sometimes we follow the way and the truth and the life of Christ by setting up tables and taking down chairs. It’s as simple as that. |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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Fourth Sunday of Easter
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Fourth Sunday of Easter
April 30, 2023 (Kids), do you know the game,” Simon Says?” Let’s have a little fun: Simon says: Tap your head. Simon says: Raise your right hand. Now raise your left hand. (Gottcha?) Simple game, important lesson. There are so many voices we must listen to in life – the voice of our parents who try to raise us to become good kids, the voice of coaches and teachers forming our minds and bodies to achieve their best. And it doesn’t end with childhood. There are other voices, good and bad, that clamor for our attention all lifelong: the voice of civil and religious authority setting boundaries, the voice of commercialism convincing us of all those things we can’t live without, the voice of greed and of revenge that arise out of fear and anger, the voice of desire and longing that is fired by our sexuality. And while there is no “Simon” to guide us as to which voices to listen to, there arises one voice above and beyond all others: the Voice of the Good Shepherd. It will most likely not be the loudest voice or even the voice that leads us down the easiest path. But when we hear it, we know it’s a voice we have to listen to because it captures the attention of our souls, and somehow calls us from an authority that is beyond any human authority. It is the voice of Christ, the living God, that dwells within us, a voice that speaks so deep in our soul that it is impossible to ignore. In the crowded marketplace of this world, in a society that clamors to get our attention, when so many other voices are shaped by a political and divisive world, the voice of Christ keeps saying the same thing it’s been saying for two thousand years: That love always wins; that God’s mercy is never exhausted; that we are beloved by our God and there is nothing that can change that; that there is nothing we can do to make God love us any more than God does, and nothing we can do to make God love us any less than what God does. It is a voice that calls us to imitate that love and mercy in the world. Lest we think that the first disciples of Christ had it easy; after all, they were right there with Jesus and had the privilege of actually hearing his voice day after day. They didn’t have anything that we don’t have now. The Voice of the Good Shepherd that echoed in their memory is the same voice that cuts to our heart today, if we dare to listen. It is the Voice that calls us to this sacred Altar (not just for the first time, but) each and every weekend. It is the voice that calls us to forgive as we have been forgiven. It is the Voice that welcomes us into his presence each and every day. It is the voice that calls to the young as they begin their journey of faith and to us who are well on the way of our journey of faith. It is the one and only voice that can call us to our eternal home. (Simon didn’t say that; Jesus did.) |
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Third Sunday of Easter
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Third Sunday of Easter
April 23, 2023 It was my first day in Portage in 2013. I was trying to find my way from the church out to Walmart on the north side of town, and kind of knew which direction I should head. What I didn’t notice was the “One Way” signs at the corner of McFarland and Wisconsin, right by Jeff’s Tire. I’m still not sure if it was an inner voice, or if it was Jeff, himself yelling, but I heard it loud and clear: “Hey, dummy, it’s a one-way street!” Fortunately, it’s a short block and no one was coming, but if you’ve never found yourself going down a road the wrong way, you know - it’s not a good feeling. And I’m not just talking about driving. I’m talking about life. We’ve all been there: that moment we realize that our priorities have gotten messed up and we’re heading the wrong direction. Or when the bad habit turned into an addiction, when we’ve ignored the relationship for too long, when we said what we should never have said but can’t take it back, when we’ve lost touch with what’s important, when our prayer life is nonexistent. At some moment, at many moments of our lives, we realize we’re heading down the road of life the wrong way. That is the story of The Road to Emmaus. The disciples were broken, disappointed, defeated. The one they had thought would save Israel was dead or missing or something. All they knew was that things were just not working out the way they thought they should work out. So, they were heading to Emmaus, out of Jerusalem, away from the city of God, the city of fulfillment and promise and hope. They were heading the wrong way. But then, even before they realized what was happening, Jesus came and walked with them. Jesus didn’t wait for them to figure it out, to return to him, he found them and walked with them. Not with anger, not shaming them, not throwing guilt upon them. Just walked with them. As they walked along, first he listened, and then he reminded them that there was a bigger story going on here, so much bigger than their story. God’s story of re-creation, of redemption and mercy, of forgiveness and love. He helped them get out of their small mind and remember the bigger story, where God never forgets, never abandons, always seeks out the lost, always hears the cry of the poor, always shows us the path of life. And then, after all this, he brought them back to the table. Not just any table, but the table where he is made present. THIS table. The table to which he welcomes us over and over and over again. Finally, then, they recognized him. It was Christ who was helping them get back on the road all along, but this time heading in the right direction: back to Jerusalem, from which fulfillment and promise and hope flowed. My friends, we’re going to find ourselves there many times in life - heading in the wrong direction of life. Sometimes it happens, as it did for the disciples, because of sadness or grief. Other times, dreams and promises were broken, and we find ourselves living without hope. Often, we just get lost, we lose sight of what is really important, what really matters, what needs to be our priority. And at other times, life just throws us a curveball and we get caught off guard, and before we know it, we’re heading down a road that leads to nowhere. But then…without our even realizing it, Jesus will be walking with us. Somehow, he’ll find us and listen to us, and then remind us there is a bigger story going on here and help us to see just how our story finds a place in God’s story. And he’ll lead us back to this table, where Christ is made truly present. Like Cleopas and his friend, (like Peter said) we will be ransomed from our futile conduct and continue our sojourn with reverence. This time, though, heading the right way. |
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Second Sunday of Easter~ Divine Mercy Sunday
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Second Sunday of Easter
April 16, 2023 Like many of you, I grew up in a time when we never locked the car. In fact, I remember when I was a kid, we’d all go into town on Friday night (because that’s where things were happening!) and not only didn’t we lock the car, we often left the keys right in the ignition. Schools and churches were unlocked, too, and our house. I remember a little hook on the screen door but that was more for keeping the wind from blowing it open. Not so much, anymore. Sadly, it is rare to find doors unlocked, isn’t it? We lock doors when we are afraid. Locked doors give a barrier from whatever it is that we fear. Unfortunately, locked doors do not shut out fear itself; that remains sealed inside with us. Staying behind closed and locked doors may make us feel safe, but it keeps us from the people, the events and experiences that could help us grow into the selves we were meant to become. Just ask the disciples. They were afraid, and rightly so. Afraid that what they had witnessed happened to Jesus, could happen to them. So, they were huddled in the Upper Room, where just a few days before, right before it all unraveled and fear locked them behind closed doors, they had shared the Passover meal with Jesus. Now, with the doors locked for fear, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” And grace rushes in! Just that, Jesus appearing and blessing them with his presence, voicing “Shalom,” Peace, and it all began to change. Not right away, perhaps. Maybe not even for all. But something was broken down. He came, even though the doors were locked, and stood in their midst. When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. He was real. Not a ghost, not their imagination. Really and truly present. And when they saw him, the disciples rejoiced. They could see things differently. Just knowing he was with them helped them to be who he had called them to be – disciples. Men and women who would proclaim his message of love and mercy and forgiveness and eternal life. So much of our lives are lived in fear, and there are legitimate things of which to be afraid. But we cannot live our faith in fear -fear of what others will think; fear of being rejected; fear of taking a risk; fear of loss; fear that things may be different than what they were. Fear cripples us from becoming who we are meant to be. If we fear living our faith, or not allowing our faith to shape our relationships and our schedules and our priorities and our tomorrows, it will start to gnaw away at us. We lose confidence and perspective. It’s what happened to the disciples. It’s what happens to us when our faith in Christ is not the center of our lives, when Christ is not in the room with us. The fear grows, takes on a life of its own, while we diminish. And in that fear, we can never become the people we are called to be as disciples of Jesus Christ. Fortunately for us, Easter reminds us that Jesus does, indeed, stands before us. In the Word of God proclaimed, in the Eucharist shared from the Altar, in the Body of Christ that gathers together, the Lord of life himself comes and stands before us. The one who defeated death comes back and says, “Peace,” assuring us that we are safe, that it is going to be alright. Most of all, that he is with us. And then he said to them (and to us): Now, go. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” |
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Easter Sunday
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Easter Sunday
April 8, 2023 After work, one day, a young woman stopped to watch a Little League baseball game that was being played in a park near her home. As she sat down behind the bench on the first-base line, she asked one of the boys what the score was, “We're behind 14 to nothing,” he answered with a smile. “Really,” (she said), “I have to say you don't sound very discouraged.” 'Discouraged?', (the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face). “Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet.” That is an Easter attitude. That is the message of the empty tomb. Remember that on that first Easter morning, there had been no sighting of Jesus, no first breakfast at the Sea of Galilee, no greeting in the Upper Room; just an empty tomb. That’s how it started. “Behind by 14 in the top of the First.” But there was an empty tomb. That morning - in the midst of their broken dream, in the middle of their darkest hour, as they peered into the empty tomb, before they yet understood, there was faith. While others had given up, thought it was all over, that the game had already been lost, that all they had hoped would happen, didn’t happen - there were those few that first morning that just believed. That’s why it is so important to celebrate Easter every year, why we celebrate Mass with the church every Sunday! Our Easter story is about faith – faith that we are part of the game of life that Christ has already won for us. This is about Christ’s resurrection and his invitation to follow him into that resurrected life. Somehow, the world -and sometimes our own religion - has perpetuated a great untruth that we can somehow save ourselves if we are good enough or score enough spiritual points, or at least score more points than the next guy. In doing this we negate the great act of love that we celebrate on this Easter. We hang on to the false belief that if we do enough back-flips of virtuous acts or complete our spiritual pushups with enough vigor we might, just might, find ourselves in the favor of God. Easter shouts to the unbelieving world that the game is not over. It is our chance to begin anew, to create what has not yet been created, to do what has not yet been done, to accomplish what has up to now not been accomplished, to reconcile what remains still broken. We do this, not by our merit, not by our power, but by the power of the Resurrected Christ that is in us. We come together on this Easter morning, most of us still trying to capture what that really means. Like the first disciples that came to the empty tomb: we believe even if we don’t fully understand. There will, indeed, be times when we might find ourselves “behind by 14 in the top of the first.” But we still have hope, more than hope: absolute confidence in Christ who has won victory over all sin, over all evil, over all darkness, over death itself. What a different place the world would be if we could just believe that; if we could just truly, honestly, deeply believe that in his love for us, Christ died and rose for us…and then live in that unconditional love of Jesus Christ. Once we get there, we will know Easter. And it won’t matter what the score is, because we’ve already won. |
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Easter Vigil
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Easter Vigil
April 8, 2023 Every year we begin our Easter Vigil in the dark because in that darkness we tap into something primal and instinctive. There is something in us that longs for daylight, years for new life, eager for a new beginning, yearning for love, eager for reconciliation and unity. So, every year, in its most sacred liturgy, the Church symbolically touches that instinctive yearning and breaks that darkness with fire. And then, from one single flame atop the Easter Candle, that light spreads through the congregation with the acclamation, “The Light of Christ surrounds us.” And Easter happens. Seeds and roots are buried in the ground, but every spring, the warmth of the sunlight urges them to break through the darkness of the soil. And Easter happens. We may know what it is like to feel completely alone in the midst of a crowd, or know darkness of depression or addiction. But then a voice of someone who hasn’t given up on us breaks that darkness and reminds us that we are worthy of love and life. And Easter happens. When in the darkness of loss, or the suffocating blanket of grief, or the betrayal of a friend or lover, you one day find yourself appreciating a sunrise and you hear yourself laugh and you begin saying “yes” to life once more. And Easter happens. Easter happens when in the overwhelming doubt or that reoccurring but nagging wondering, if does God really does exist, or if God does exist does God really care about my tears and hear my cries? And then you are struck by a simple whisper of hope from somewhere you can’t begin to explain. And Easter happens. That’s why the Resurrection story touches such a deep place in our souls. It’s why we keep coming back. We have known that darkness, and we will know it again in our lives. None of us are immune from the tomb. So, we come here tonight to remember what God does with darkness. In our stories of salvation history, the stories of darkness to light, chaos to creation, slavery to freedom, exile to homecoming, longing to promise – it’s all recalled in the proclamation of Scripture and sacred song. We come here tonight and wait for the flicker of a candle that defies the darkness; we smell the flowers that defy the long winter of Lent; we wait for the water of our baptismal font that echoes new life; we hunger to taste the Bread of Life at the Altar -or some of you for the first time. We look for Risen One who defies death itself. And Easter happens. May each and every one of us be reborn in those sacred waters of baptism and become Easter people, people who live every day with reason and hope and freedom and redemption. May we be Easter people who share a joy and laughter that scares away the grim and humorless mantle that so insists on hanging over our world. May we be an Easter people who touch the world with our joy and love for life. May we be an Easter people that wakes up every morning with gratitude in our souls and courage in our hearts. May we be an Easter people that finds a way to proclaim what it is we believe so that those who yet live in darkness may also have hope. We have something to give them, something to break the darkness. We have the Risen Christ! May the world know that Easter has come! May the world know that we are Easter! |
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Good Friday
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Good Friday
April 7, 2023 When we pray during Good Friday we met likely think it is all about Jesus. While much of that is true, all of us are also involved. Listen carefully to the participants. Are we like any of them? And it began with the crowd shouting HOSANNAH (which means “save us”). Blessed is he who comes in he name of the Lord. Later, Jesus tells his disciples: “You know that in 2 days time it will be Passover, and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified.” After He washed their feet, Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and said: Take it, this is My Body.” He took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them. They all drank. And Jesus said “This is my blood of the covenant which will be shed for many. Do this in memory of Me.” Later, Peter said: “Though all may have their faith shaken in you, mine will never be”. Soon after, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John to the garden and tells them, “My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and watch with me.” But they all slept. “My Father, if it is not possible that this cup pass without my drinking it, your will be done.” And His sweat became like drops of blood falling to the ground. And the soldiers took Him away. Pilate asks Jesus: “Are you the King of the Jews?” Peter deep in the courtyard says “I do not know the man!” The crowd shouts: “Crucify Him. Crucify Him!!” And Pilate questions, “Why, what evil has He done? Take Him yourself as I wash my hands of His blood. A Cyrenian named Simon was pressed into service to carry His cross. The bloody, unspeakable torture begins: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me”. Above His cross is written: THE KING OF THE JEWS! Despite the complaints, Pilate says: “What I have written, I have written.” And during His excruciating pain Jesus prays: “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” The criminal hanging next to Jesus says “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus looks at him: “Today you will be with Me in paradise.” Near death, Jesus looks down to His Mother, Mary, silently suffering, and says: “Woman, behold your son”. To His disciple: “Behold your Mother”. Jesus whispers: “It is finished”, and bowing His head He handed over His Spirit. The centurion says “Truly this man was the Son of God.” There were also women looking on from a distance. What part of the Crucifixion did each of us play? It’s late afternoon. Jesus is dead. It is finished…or, is it? DEACON STEVE |
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Holy Thursday
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Holy Thursday
April 6 2023 Holy Thursday celebration, the beginning of the Triduum, revolves around compelling events in Scripture. Events that cannot be equaled by any stories that we humans can weave. How possibly can we unpack all of this in one short evening: - The meaning of Passover to God’s people - The washing of the disciples feet - The institution of the sacrament of Holy Orders, a sacrament received by our Priests and Deacons, both transitional and permanent - The sacrament of the Eucharist. Each of these are super important…work with me, OK, as I try and touch on each? What began about 33 years prior to Holy Thursday was this: Zachariah, the father of Jesus’ cousin, John, whom we have come to know as John the Baptist, spoke to his newborn son - “You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare His way, to give His people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins.” There are few things more clear to us Catholics than this…the mercy of our Jesus and the forgiveness of our sins for which we are truly sorry. How many times will Jesus have mercy and forgiveness for us weak and sometimes straying humans? How about 70 times 7! His love for us has no limit and no end. To relive the story of Passover, freeing the Jewish people from slavery at the hands of the Pharaoh in Egypt and eventually leading them to the “promised land” has become a great feast, the greatest and most sacred of all for the Jewish people. Jesus chose this most high feast to speak one more time to His disciples about what the two great commandments mean…(repeat them). LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF. Jesus did something striking… He lays side His outer robe, ties a towel around himself, pours water in a basin and washes His disciples feet. The silence, the confusion, Peter’s attempt at refusal. James Martin, a Jesuit Priest says this: “The message is not so much that the master has become the slave, but that all are on the same level…nobody above or below…there is no domination by anyone, but rather Jesus teaches us equality”. Watch how we wash feet in our parish - as Jesus washed the disciples feet He challenges us to do he same for each other. The greatest commandment - LOVE YOUR GOD WITH EVERY FIBER IN YOUR BODY…ABOVE ALL ELSE! Jesus again did something striking… He takes simple bread, gives a blessing and says, This is my body which will be given up for you. Then, taking a cup of wine, He again gives a blessing and says This is my blood which will be shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in memory of me. Through the Love He has for us - to give every ounce of Himself for the forgiveness of our sins, opening he doors of salvation to everyone - He taught us how to love His Father…with every ounce of ourselves. With these simple blessings and words, with the command to His disciples to do this often in His memory, He left us the totality of Himself, body, blood, soul, and divinity for all time. We call it TRANSUBSTANTIATION: a large, confusing word probably every Catholic has heard at some point. HOW DO WE UNDERSTAND THAT JESUS IN HIS HUMANITY AND DIVINITY, HIS FLESH AND BLOOD, IS FULLY PRESENT IN THE SMALL WAFER OF UNLEAVENED BREAD THAT OUR PRIESTS CONSECRATE? Succinctly…we don’t understand. But, we know it, we believe it, we reverence this host which our Priests consecrate thru the intercession of the Holy Spirit, as Jesus Himself. Maybe a quick story is best: An uncle asked his nephew a couple of hours before his first Holy Communion, “So Matthew, what do you know about the Eucharist? He said, Jesus loves us so much that he turned Himself into bread. And He wanted to be so close to us that He goes inside of us so that we can know He is always with us.” NOT BAD. - The Passover - The washing of the disciples feet - Our Priests, Deacons, and the sacrament of Holy Orders - The Eucharist What touches YOU right now? SPEND A LITTLE TIME WITH THE LORD TONIGHT. DEACON STEVE |
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Palm Sunday
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Palm Sunday
April 2, 2023 “Be aware of where your feet take you; feet don’t lie.” That was the sound advice of a very wise spiritual director that I once had. Be aware of where your feet take you. We say we are going to eat healthy but our feet take us to the fast food drive-thru. We claim we want to get in shape but our feet take us to the couch where we can potato in front of the TV. We tell our family or friends that we should do this more often, but our feet take us elsewhere. We say we want to turn over a new leaf but we go back to the same ol’ tree. Feet don’t lie. Perhaps this sage advice might give us a take on how to enter into this Holy Week. Ponder, in prayer, the path of Jesus this week, with an awareness of the places Jesus’ feet took him. They did not lie. He said he loved us and that he came to save us. His feet took him up to Jerusalem where he knew what awaited him. His feet took him to the upper room, where he would celebrate the Passover with his disciples. His feet took him to the garden where he prayed that his Father’s will might be done. His feet took him into the praetorium to face his accusers and they carried him though the city with the cross upon his shoulders. His feet took him to Golgotha where he would die. He said he loved us and that he came to save us. And he did. Feet tell the truth. What truth do our feet tell? What path do we walk? What truth do they proclaim? Our feet reveal a lot about the journey we are on. So, be aware of where your feet take you; feet don’t lie. |
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5th Sunday of Lent
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Fifth Sunday of Lent
March 26, 2023 Barney. That was the name of the first dog that I can remember. In some ways, I suppose, Barney was my first love. Like most farm dogs, he was a mutt, bigger than me, I remember that. At four years old he outweighed me and could knock me over with one bump. Every morning, when Dad would load up the milk cans to take them to the cheese factory in the back of the red Ford pick-up, Barney would follow at a dead run, trying to catch up with him or maybe even beat him there, knowing the short cuts across the fields. Eventually, of course, he would make his way back and the day would go on. I don’t remember all the details of the day he didn’t come back, but I remember this: I remember feeling for the first time in my life what I would later know as “grief.” I remember sitting on the hay wagon with my Mom, both of us crying, and her telling me he was dead and no, she couldn’t make it better. But she held me, and I guess that was enough. There, in the embrace of Mom, I also had my first theology-lesson. Although I certainly couldn’t articulate it at that age (still struggle to today, actually) I began to realize that God was not here to prevent grief, but that I might come to know God through that grief. Slowly, but surely, I have come to believe that God is not here to keep death or endings or failures out of my life, or even to rescue me from the grief that always accompanies death and endings and failures - though I still often find myself praying for that. What God can do is even better; God redeems it. Transforms it. Changes it into something else, something of which I have no name but in which I come to know God’s glory. The grief of Martha and Mary, and in the tears of Jesus himself, is palpable in the Gospel today. We’ve been there: tears, disappointment, questioning, hurting beyond words. When loved ones have died but also when love, itself, has died. We’ve known the darkness of grief when dreams are shattered, when we lose that all-important game, or don’t get that job or didn’t get into the college we so hope for; when mistakes are made or something was said or left unsaid and friendships are broken. We know the grief that accompanies the loss of innocence in a child’s life and the grief that comes with getting old. We know the tears and the questioning and the anger when things don’t unfold the way we had planned. We’ve seen faith challenged and spirits bruised. We’ve all been there and maybeare there right now. It was never the intention of God to rescue us from grief, as far as we have come to know God. God came, not to rescue but to redeem. And there is a difference. A rescue only lasts until next time, it makes things alright for a while, maybe. Redemption is forever. Redemption transforms us, takes us to a deeper level of faith. God is not indifferent to our suffering, on the contrary, God enters into our suffering and redeems it. Redemption unties us. Redemption sets us free. Redemption makes love possible, again. Redemption promises a better life than the one we were once convinced was the best. Redemption doesn’t give back what was, it takes us forward to what can be. Redemption gives hope. Like Martha and Mary, we beg Jesus to come to us in our grief, in our losses –whatever and wherever and whenever they are- to hold us like a loving Mother holds a sad, four-year old little boy, and helps him turn five. |
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4th Sunday of Lent
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Fourth Sunday of Lent
March 19, 2023 A good priest-friend of mine can remember every detail in his dreams, and faithfully discerns each and every one of them every morning. He also insists that every character in our dreams is really a version of ourselves. I’m not sure about you, but that’s more than a little disconcerting to me. Yet, some of the greatest theologians and spiritual guides of our Christian heritage insist that every character of our sacred scripture is also, really, a version of ourselves, or at least a part of who we are. And if we hold that truth, it is humbling and blessing all at the same time. The man born blind? Yep! That’s us. Born, not physically blind, but spiritually blind. Born into a world that is blinded by sin, not through our fault -any more than it was the blind man’s fault to be born without sight. In our tradition, we call it Original Sin - sin that obscures our consciousness, blinds us to the right direction of our life. Sin that exists in the world into which we are born. And at times of our lives, we fall back into that blindness, back into sin. We are also the one healed of our blindness. Washed, not in the Pool of Siloam, but in the waters of Baptism. In those waters we are given the grace to see the world with the light of Christ, symbolically offered to us in our baptismal candle. In baptism, we are washed clean, not of spit and mud, but with the Holy Spirit, the Spirit who washes away the darkness so that we might believe, as St. Paul so earnestly tried to teach the church of Ephesus, “You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.” And at that moment, we also become the healer. Yes, we are the Christ. In our baptism, we are clothed in the garment of Saints. Truly, at that moment, Christ comes to dwell within us. Every time we receive Eucharist, Christ comes to dwell in us. We are entrusted to be the hands and eyes and works of Christ in our world today. Notice that when asked if he was the man that used to be blind, he answered, in Greek, in the original language of the gospel, (Ego Eimai) “I AM.” Those are the very words that God used to describe himself when Moses asked, “Who shall I say sent me?” The very word’s that Jesus used when describing himself: “I AM the Bread of Life. I AM the Good Shepherd. I AM the gate. I AM the way, the truth and the life. This is John’s way of declaring that Christ lives in us! So, “Live as children of light,” St. Paul insists. And the crowd. Yes, us too! When we doubt that someone could change, be enlightened, be healed. How often have we responded, “I’ll believe it when I see it?” Or, “Show me some proof.” We are so often slow to accept another person’s contrition, slow to understand another person’s repentance, to believe that they are a new person. How slow we are to believe that even of ourselves! You are blessed and holy people, beloved children of God! How often have we doubted that something that good could be true? And yes, we are also the Pharisees, so embedded into our way of doing things, seeing things, understanding things that we resist any new path that God opens to us. We sometimes are so stuck in the way things are, that we resist the blessing God wants to lay out before us. Is it not the same story of David, the unlikely chosen one that the Lord wanted to be anointed as king? How could he, the youngest, become king? That’s not the way it works. But no one, the Lord reminded Samuel, sees as the Lord sees. I’m still not convinced -or maybe I just don’t want to believe- that I am every character in my dreams. But I am convinced that, at times, I am every character of our sacred scriptures: at times sinner and at other times healer; sometimes proclaimer of truth and sometimes doubter, sometimes walking in darkness and sometimes I am a light to guide others out of darkness. I am all these things. Aren’t we all? |
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3rd Sunday of Lent
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Third Sunday of Lent
March 12, 2023 You do realize this is not just a story about the woman at the well. Right? This is everyone’s story. We are all the woman at the well. All of us. We are the woman at the well – just doing our boring, mundane routine of our lives, and all of a sudden, it is interrupted and nothing is ever routine, again. We are the woman at the well – finding ourselves in an unexpected and somewhat inconvenient encounter with someone when all you want to do is get your water and go home. We are the woman at the well – having a conversation, a real conversation, with someone that you’d never in a million years would have predicted, or even wanted, to be having. We are the woman at the well – embarrassed, being called out on some less-than-perfect part of our life we’ve tried to keep hidden; shamed into admission, but not rejected. We are the woman at the well – our minds blown away by something and we cannot wait to get home and tell someone what happened. We are the woman at the well – confident but afraid, spunky but shy, embarrassed but not judged, a bit doubtful but still excited. We are also the Israelites, grumbling and feeling sorry for ourselves because life is not going the way we expected it to go. We are the early church believers, held back by our negativity when hope and grace are in easy reach if we just believe what we say we believe. We are the woman at the well – finding ourselves, at unexpected times and places and circumstances, with an encounter with Christ. Remember this, too: In every story there is a “page turn” and the story continues. The Israelites found new hope in the flowing water and continued the journey to the promised land. The woman went back to town telling anyone who would listen about her encounter with Jesus, and they too came to believe he was the Messiah. The early church found the grace they needed to stand and once again boast in the glory of God. ---- What will we do when we turn the page? |
Audio Recording
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Father Gary's Into the Deep Announcement
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Fr. Randy Timmerman, pastor of St. Dennis Parish in Madison, is one of my longtime friends; we go back even before he was ordained thirty years ago. One of the things Randy is known for is this: Whenever you ask him, “How ya doing?” His automatic and immediate response is, “Grateful! I’m just grateful!”
That is the spirit of which I hope to capture today. I am grateful. First of all, I am so deeply grateful that I have had the privilege of serving as your pastor for the past decade. In July of 2013 you welcomed me so warmly into your community, and that has been nothing but a gift. Unfortunately, my time as your pastor is coming to an end. Bishop Hying has asked me to accept a new assignment as Pastor of one of the other newly-created pastorates in the Diocese, as a part of the Into the Deep initiative in the diocese, effective July 1. I am also grateful that Bishop Hying has wisely and graciously appointed my friend, Fr. Randy Timmerman, to serve as your next Pastor. He is an amazing priest, a wonderful spiritual leader, a great homilist, and a deeply prayerful man. He has led one of the largest parishes in the diocese for the past ten years and has gratefully accepted the opportunity and challenge to form a new pastorate of the six churches of Portage, Briggsville, Pardeeville, Buffalo, Westfield and Montello. He will be assisted by two other priests, Fr. Joji and Fr. Savio, both of whom are currently serving in Pardeeville and Montello/Westfield. Together, they will serve you and come to love you as I have over the past ten years. Fr. Randy and I will be working together as he prepares to take the role as your Pastor here, and I prepare to take over his role at St. Dennis Parish on Dempsey Road in Madison and form a new parish with St. Peter Parish on Sherman Avenue. I am also grateful this is not happening tomorrow; we have four months to prepare for this transition in your (and my) life. I am far from ready to say “good bye” to any of you, so I ask that as we continue to pray together over the next four months through this Lent and Easter Season, that we welcome the Holy Spirit to guide us with hope into the next chapter of our parish life, and my life. We still have a lot of work to do. I’ve had some time to work through my emotions over the past several weeks that I have known; you’ll need time to do that as well. But then, we’ll all do what we need to do to keep this parish and this community the amazing parish that it is. We’ll continue to live and proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ in every way that we can. The profound vision of the transfiguration in today’s scripture gives us a spiritual framework in which to view Into the Deep and Go Make Disciples. These diocesan-wide initiatives are aimed at moving our parishes and diocese from simply maintaining, to becoming who we are called to be: a church of mission, bringing more and more people into a fuller and deeper relationship with Jesus Christ. As I said, we still have a lot of work to do. It was the birthday of Theodor Seuss Geisel this past week, better known as Dr. Seuss. I am reminded of a saying that is often attributed to him, one that has helped me in transitions in the past: "Don’t cry because it is over; smile because it happened." |
Audio Recording
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2nd Sunday of Lent
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Second Sunday of Lent
March 4, 2023 They had to come down, of course. It didn’t last, this amazing event we call the Transfiguration. And then they couldn’t tell anyone about it, at least not yet; not until the time of the resurrection. They probably didn’t have a clue what that all meant anyway, the resurrection. In the end, after witnessing such a privileged event, seeing the transfiguration of Jesus and hearing the voice of God coming from the clouds; having heard Jesus actually conversing with Elijah and Moses, they had to come down the mountain. They couldn’t stay there. There was still work to be done. We live in a world of some pretty remarkable events, too. Our lives are filled with them. Some of them are remarkable in their blessings, times of our lives that we wish could last forever. But they never do; they give way to another path, another journey. And when that happens, we try to make sense out of what seems senseless; other times we’ve been given blessings far greater than what we can say we deserve. Wins and losses, the highest of mountains and the deepest of ditches, burdens so heavy we thought we would break and gifts so wonderful we have been speechless in our joy. The perspective those events and experiences bring to our lives is remarkable, and it is these very things that give us the courage and strength and perseverance to continue the journey. That’s what the Transfiguration of Jesus was and is all about. But the transfiguration, like all these events and experiences in our lives, the good and the bad, are not meant to last. But they do give us a remarkable perspective from which to continue our journey of life. At the very beginning of the journey it was Abram sent forth from the land of his kinfolks. He was to make a great nation. He had no idea what blessings and challenges would await him, let alone those that would come upon the generations of ancestors that would follow him. He had no idea what he would encounter or of what would be required of him. He was just sent forth. But having been given the blessing of God he had a perspective from which to make the journey. Thousands of years later, Paul would pen a letter to his friend Timothy. There would be hardships, Paul said. Bear them with the strength that comes from God, he told Timothy. Keep it in perspective. It would be tempting to want to pitch our tent on the mountain tops and stay there. It would be wonderful if we could live in an economy that never dipped, in relationships that were always a honeymoon. It would be wonderful if every ticket was a winner and every era of our lives was perfect. But would not our hearts grow numb to gratefulness? Or sometimes it might seem tempting to wallow in the darkness and to seek pity in our hardships. It might be easy to give up or get angry and surrender to forces of evil. But would not our hearts grow numb to hope? Our life with Christ calls us to use the moments of transfiguration and to find strength in God in the hardships that we encounter. And then keep going. Like Abraham did. Like Jesus did. Like the Apostles did. Like Timothy did. Like they all did, those faithful men and women who have gone before us. Just like we will do. ANNOUNCEMENT Fr. Randy Timmerman, pastor of St. Dennis Parish in Madison, is one of my longtime friends; we go back even before he was ordained thirty years ago. One of the things Randy is known for is this: Whenever you ask him, “How ya doing?” His automatic and immediate response is, “Grateful! I’m just grateful!” That is the spirit of which I hope to capture today. I am grateful. First of all, I am so deeply grateful that I have had the privilege of serving as your pastor for the past decade. In July of 2013 you welcomed me so warmly into your community, and that has been nothing but a gift. Unfortunately, my time as your pastor is coming to an end. Bishop Hying has asked me to accept a new assignment as Pastor of one of the other newly-created pastorates in the Diocese, as a part of the Into the Deep initiative in the diocese, effective July 1. I am also grateful that Bishop Hying has wisely and graciously appointed my friend, Fr. Randy Timmerman, to serve as your next Pastor. He is an amazing priest, a wonderful spiritual leader, a great homilist, and a deeply prayerful man. He has led one of the largest parishes in the diocese for the past ten years and has gratefully accepted the opportunity and challenge to form a new pastorate of the six churches of Portage, Briggsville, Pardeeville, Buffalo, Westfield and Montello. He will be assisted by two other priests, Fr. Joji and Fr. Savio, both of whom are currently serving in Pardeeville and Montello/Westfield. Together, they will serve you and come to love you as I have over the past ten years. Fr. Randy and I will be working together as he prepares to take the role as your Pastor here, and I prepare to take over his role at St. Dennis Parish on Dempsey Road in Madison and form a new parish with St. Peter Parish on Sherman Avenue. I am also grateful this is not happening tomorrow; we have four months to prepare for this transition in your (and my) life. I am far from ready to say “good bye” to any of you, so I ask that as we continue to pray together over the next four months through this Lent and Easter Season, that we welcome the Holy Spirit to guide us with hope into the next chapter of our parish life, and my life. We still have a lot of work to do. I’ve had some time to work through my emotions over the past several weeks that I have known; you’ll need time to do that as well. But then, we’ll all do what we need to do to keep this parish and this community the amazing parish that it is. We’ll continue to live and proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ in every way that we can. The profound vision of the transfiguration in today’s scripture gives us a spiritual framework in which to view Into the Deep and Go Make Disciples. These diocesan-wide initiatives are aimed at moving our parishes and diocese from simply maintaining, to becoming who we are called to be: a church of mission, bringing more and more people into a fuller and deeper relationship with Jesus Christ. As I said, we still have a lot of work to do. It was the birthday of Theodor Seuss Geisel this past week, better known as Dr. Seuss. I am reminded of a saying that is often attributed to him, one that has helped me in transitions in the past: "Don’t cry because it is over; smile because it happened." I |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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1st Sunday of Lent
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I like a good temptation once in a while. Seriously. Sure, temptations can, and sometimes do lead us to sin because we may not always be successful when it comes to resisting the temptation (flashback: Adam and Eve) - but that’s where reconciliation comes in. (More about that another day.) For today, I’d like to stick with the benefits of temptation.
Remember that the temptations of Jesus of which we hear in the gospel today takes place right after his baptism, where, you might recall, the Spirit descended on Jesus and declared that he was the beloved Son of God. Now, just after that, (in Matthew’s gospel) we are reminded that the same Spirit “led him into the desert to be tempted by the devil.” That’s an important point of the message. This was no accident; Jesus didn’t stumble across the temptations. He was led there by the Spirit. There must have been a good reason for that, don’t you think? The point is also not that Jesus was tempted because he was weak from 40 days of fasting, but how he responds to the temptations even in that weakness. And the gospel gives us the privilege to be a part of the dialogue that happens between Jesus and the devil. When presented with the temptations, what did Jesus do? He called on his faith, words from the scriptures that he obviously knew, familiar words that came to him spontaneously. Each time a temptation arose, he didn’t depend upon his own strength to resist, he called upon his faith. His response, then, teaches us, as disciples, how to respond. This was not a “see how good I am” moment for Jesus, but a moment that he would teach us, when we, too, are tempted, how to respond. We need help, help from God. Temptation, then, can indeed lead us to sin, but it can also sharpen us spiritually. When we are tempted, like Jesus, we learn to draw upon a strength deeper than our own. We hone our spiritual skills. We become adept at facing those challenging moments, not with fear, but with confidence that these moments can deepen our relationship with God. Jesus was tempted as a human being (right?), so what makes us think it will be any different for us? If it was the Holy Spirit who led Jesus to face those temptations, what makes us think that we will not find ourselves in the same place, prompted by the Holy Spirit. He had to decide how he was going to live the life and mission given him by his Father—if the Master had to do that, then surely, we, his disciples, could too. Bottom line is this, my friends: Yes, the tempter will always have a voice in our lives: tempting us to think we know even more than God. We will always be tempted to rely on our own worldly power rather than on the power of God that rests in us. We will be tempted to give into our hungers, our lusts, our desires and longings rather than trust that God is enough. We will be tempted to place God in competition with other gods of our lives. Yet, if we, like Jesus, rely on the power of God and not our own power, then, ultimately, temptations have the purpose of leading us closer to God, deeper into life with him. We know all too well that we do not always come out of temptation unscathed as Jesus did. (Again, flash back to Adam and Eve.) We do sin and sin is real in our lives. But just as truly as we should not minimize it, neither should we be preoccupied with it. It cannot be our primary focus. Because we know that when Jesus conquered temptations, he also showed us the way of life. There is where the focus ought to be. |
Audio Recording
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7th Sunday in ordinary time
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Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 19, 2023 This week sit back and listen to Msgr. Duane Moellenberndt's Homily by clicking on the icon to the right. Msgr. Duane celebrated with us while Father Gary was away for the weekend. There will not be a text version this weekend. |
Audio Recording
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6th Sunday in ordinary time
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Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 12, 2023 There is nothing that is as wonderfully accommodating and at the same time, terribly annoying, than the person who can’t make a decision, or at least chooses not to. “What would you like to eat?” “I don’t care; whatever you want.” “What do you want to watch tonight?” “Doesn’t matter; whatever you’d like.” “Do you want to go out for dinner or order in?” “You choose; either is fine.” Don’t you just want to scream: MAKE A DECISION, ALREADY!! That’s why laws are so popular in our culture. Within the framework of law, the only decision you have to make is if you are going to follow the law or not. You don’t have to do a lot of thinking, mull over the ethics or the morality; you don’t have to discern or weigh the values or the principles. You just have to follow the rule. Just tell me what to do so I don’t have to make my way through the murky waters of life. But then, there are those other moments, when the clearly defined rules just don’t seem to fit the moment, or when the law doesn’t seem to speak to the situation, or when what the law declares as wrong seems so right, or when what the world declares as just, can’t be justified. The point is that law can only go so far. The Jews of Jesus’ time learned that. Even with over 600 complex regulations and laws it still wasn’t enough. With every law that was created there would be, at the same time, exceptions to the law, and more laws would be created. Enter Jesus. A Jew who loved the law, who lived the law, who upheld the law. In his own words, he had not come to change one iota of the law of Moses. But he knew there was something greater than the law, something that fulfilled the law: Love. He knew that one could follow all the rules and still hate; one could live the law and still kill; one could uphold the law and still possess what was not theirs to possess; one could know and follow every rule of the house of God and still not know and follow God. For Jesus, it was all about relationship, relationship with God and relationship with others. Jesus was about changing hearts, not changing the law. He was about love, forgiveness, compassion, mercy; not judgement and condemnation. He had an amazing vision, a vision that could see beyond the law and into the heart. And it was there where God’s word was most purely spoken and courageously lived. St. Paul called it wisdom, but not wisdom in the usual sense of the term. He would say that true wisdom is found in not knowing. In other words, when things are not so clear, when you have to trust the Holy Spirit to get you where you need to be. There, in the confines of the heart, where love and condemnation are both given birth, where forgiveness and revenge rest side-by-side, where disdain is secretly hidden behind compassion. That’s where the work needs to be done. Not in creating new laws but in creating new hearts. Only in our hearts can we most clearly choose; only in our hearts are we able to most purely say, “yes” and “no.” We will always be able to find a reason to be exempt from the law. But none of us, at any moment, in any situation, can find any reason to be exempt from love. |
Audio Recording
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5th Sunday in ordinary time
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Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 6, 2023 Some of us are comfortable with ambiguity. We’re OK when things are not always that clear, when there is room for discretion, when choices remain on the table. We love buffets at restaurants. Others of us do not. We want black and white. Tell me what to do so I don’t have to wonder; vagueness and uncertainty are swear words in our vocabulary. Don’t ask me what I want to eat, just put something on the plate and I’ll be fine. That’s what makes the Sermon on the Mount, the teachings of Jesus found in these few chapters of Matthew, so powerful and timeless and enduring. Because no matter how we hear them, like the Beatitudes we heard last weekend, they offer us a truth that nothing else comes close, and yet allow us to find our way to live them out. They tell us just enough to not give us any wiggle room, but still leave enough unspoken so that we might make them our own. These teachings are not a plea from Jesus for us to be better and be holier and kinder and more gentle and loving. This is a teaching. It is a truth. They are not words voiced by some wisdom leader of our past, they were spoken by the Son of God. They are not suggestions, they are statements of fact: You are the light of the world! You are the salt of the earth! You are a city set on a hill! Now, some of you believe that; some of you may not be so sure. Some gather here in church with solid, strong, built-on-rock-kind-of faith. It is why you give so generously in so many ways, pray so fervently and witness so courageously. It is how you maneuver your way with a certain grace through struggling relationships and jobs, through the terrible twos and the traumatic teens. It is what gives you the courage to forgive when every fiber of your wants revenge, to be loving when indifference would be acceptable, to be courageous when it would be safer to walk away. Others of us come with more fragile, emerging, somewhat wounded, just-get-me-through-the-day-kind-of faith; you might even consider yourself more of a salty character than the “salt of the earth.” We live our faith in the shadows, afraid that it might be challenged and we’ll have to defend it. Sometimes we struggle to believe our goodness, in our blessedness. We deny the power we hold in Christ, the responsibility we have to share that gift, fragile as it may be. We question the truths that we have received, contrasting them with the false truths that this world sometimes declares. But wherever we are in our faith, Jesus’ words are no less true. His teaching doesn’t change. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. It’s not what we are called to do someday or may become if we are good enough. It is who we already are. The only question is this: Are you up for the task? Because here’s a list of people who are waiting for an answer: the sick grandparent, the kid at school that is always on the outside of the group; the homebound and the elderly who live so many hours alone; the kid who needs an example and encouragement, whose parents have given up on them. The young family who is trying to find their way and get a foothold on life that is changing so fast; the person who is grieving and the neighbor who used to believe but now doesn’t. The friend who you haven’t seen in church in ages. They are all around us. Everywhere and every day. They are waiting for us. They need us. To be salt so that they might taste the presence of Christ in their life, again or for the first time. To be a light in their darkness, even if they have forgotten or never knew that light. To be a city on a hill to guide their way, even if they don’t know how lost they are. We gather every weekend in the prayer of the church because in our liturgy we affirm that truth, we nourish that faith. We nudge it forward so that we might have what we need to sustain it, to give it flesh, to live it out every day. It is here, at Mass, that we find our voice to declare one more time: I believe in one God… |
Audio Recording
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