Homily for August 10, 2008

Homily August 10, 2008.
I don't know if my voice allowed me to communicate the tone of Jesus when he said, "Why did you doubt, oh you of little faith," so I want to bring that out.
When I was in high school more than 50 years ago, we had a  or more than 50 years ago  anyway, we had a religion teacher who asked us to go through the Gospels and find examples of when Jesus was angry, when he was sad, when he cried, and one of them was when he laughed.
None of us could find an example of Jesus laughing, because if you read through all the Gospels, you will not find any place where it says, in so many words, "and Jesus laughed." He used this Gospel as an example and just said, "Can you imagine Peter jumping out of the boat, walking on the water, and becoming frightened, and flailing about and sinking, and saying, 'Save me'? Can you imagine Jesus saying "Why did you doubt?" with a straight face?
So I just want to point that out, because Jesus' word, "Why did you doubt?" was not a chiding or a scolding word, but more the kind of bemused fondness that he would have toward somebody.
As I walk through the Gospel, I want to invite you to look a little bit at the biblical worldview. In the Bible creation is spoken of in two ways. Most of us would think of creation as making something out of nothing. So in the beginning there was nothing, and then God made this beautiful, ordered world. There is another view that would say in the beginning there was chaos; in the beginning there was absolute disorder; and creation was God putting order into the chaos.
Creation is God setting boundaries between day and night. Creation is God setting a boundary for the ocean and the sea and saying, "You will come this far but no farther," and separating dry land from the sea. Creation is God restraining and taming the wind and the rain and the ice so that they don't overwhelm us. Creation is God confining the sea monsters to the depths of the sea. Do you see where I'm going? In that worldview, it's only the hand of God and the presence of God that keeps things from falling back into chaos and disorder.
Think for a moment of our world today: Global warming, the sea no longer knows its boundary. There is the fear that regions now inhabited will be under the sea. Think of the earthquakes, the hurricanes, the tornadoes all around us. Year in and year out we live with that possibility, that the world could erupt into chaos at any moment. Think of the millions of possibilities that have to come together for life to be possible. It's mine boggling, and at any moment it could all unravel.
Think of our social fabric, the outbreak of violence and murders in our city, the acts of terrorism throughout the world. Do you get a feel for that, that it's almost like chaos is just below the surface and could break out at any moment? And it's the hand of God restraining that.
Now, with that worldview, think of the Apostles tossed about by waves on the sea and Jesus walking on the water. And by the way, it's not just walking on the water. When we speak of walking on something, we speak of subduing it. Only God can walk on the water in that sense. It's not just some neat little trick of suspending the law of physics, but it's subduing nature. So when they see Jesus walking toward them on the water, only God could do that, and that's why they're so awestruck.
Now think of Peter for a minute. "If it's really you, tell me to walk towards you on the water."
Jesus says, "Come on." He gets out and he begins to sink. How do you interpret what Peter did? Any idea, any guess? I've read many, by the way. I'll share them all with you. Yes?
A step of faith. So getting out of the boat is a step of faith. Good. I want to come back to that.
Some people say Peter’s sinking was a lack of faith. I think that's bad thinking and very dangerous. I mean, some people might say, "If only he had enough faith, he wouldn't have sunk." Have you ever heard it said you didn't have enough faith and that's why something bad happened? Have you ever heard people say that? Very destructive thinking. People have suffered real agony and hardship because somebody told them "You didn't have enough faith."
No matter how much faith I have, I'm going to die. No matter how much faith I have, I'm going to get sick, and my body will someday disintegrate. That's not what faith is about at all.
By the way, when Jesus uses the word "doubt," the Greek word he uses isn't doubt in the sense of skepticism. The word could be translated, "Why did you vacillate?" Well, I looked up the word "vacillate," and one of the definitions was "being of two minds," being of two minds, or two ways of thinking.
You know what? I vacillate all the time. I vacillate every day, because there isn't a single moment of my life when I don't struggle with being of two different minds. Can you relate to it? One of them is faith and confidence. The other seeing the dangers.
When I lived in New Albany, there was a blind man that I used to take to meetings. I would park my car on the street, a busy street. He would stick that white cane out and head across the street, and I would hold back. And he would say, "They'll stop."
And I would say, "Yeah, but you don't see them coming at us so fast." Well, there isn't a moment in my life when I don't see how fast those cars are coming. So I vacillate between sticking the cane out saying “they'll stop” and holding back.
Well, that's where Mary Pat's answer was right. Peter stepping out onto the water was an act of faith. But he vacillated. And our stepping out into the world is an act of faith, but the minute we do so, we are going to see all sorts of reasons to hesitate, and you know, like Peter, we'll fall and sink, and hopefully, like Peter, we will experience God reaching out and saying, "I'm here, don't be afraid."
As I was thinking of this, I remembered a poem by Maya Angelou  (You know, sometimes you let go of books you wish you'd have held onto) -- I remembered a poem by Maya Angelou, a wonderful, powerful African American poet and writer, where she talks about her mother, who always told her to have courage and step out on the word of God, and I want to read to you. I had to search a long time on the Internet to find it. I finally found it quoted in a sermon given at Rutgers University, and in a bulletin in an African American church from several years ago, celebrating black history month.

Father, Father
My life I give to thee gladly.
Deep rivers ahead
High mountains above
My soul wants only Your love
But fear gathers round like wolves in the dark. Have you forgotten my name?
Oh, Lord, come to Your child.
Oh, Lord, forget me not.

You said to lean on Your arm
And I'm leaning
You said to trust in Your love
And I'm trusting
You said to call on Your name
And I'm calling
I'm stepping out on Your word.

You said you'd be my protection,
And I'm stepping out on Your word.
The wonderful word of the Son of God.

You said that you would take me to glory
To sit down at the welcome table
To rejoice with my mother in heaven
And I'm stepping out on Your word

Into the alleys
Into the by ways
Into the streets
And the roads
And the highways
Past rumormongers
And midnight ramblers
Past the liars and the cheaters
The gamblers.

On Your word
On Your word.
On the wonderful word of the Son of God
I'm stepping out on Your word.

As we worship today, can you make that your prayer to God? “I'm stepping out onto the water. I'm stepping out into the world. I’m stepping out on Your word.”

Homily for August 3, 2008

I want to invite your reflection on the Gospel story today. What do you think happened? Any ideas? Yes?
[Inaudible response] A miracle. Okay. Any other thoughts about what happened? Yes?
[Inaudible response] People were delighted that they were getting free fish and bread.
[Inaudible response] Good. John was saying when he was in grade school he heard an explanation that maybe everybody was hiding the food, and when the disciples started passing it out...
Megan McKenna, a wonderful, delightful Irish writer, comments on the end of the Gospel, "not counting women and children," and she surmises that the women had brought along food. And so those who didn't count saved the day.
Any other thoughts about what happened?
[Inaudible response] Good. Jay was saying he heard once of a preacher who could preach on any sentence. So they challenged him and gave him the sentence, "There was much grass in the place," and he talked about the wonderful providence of God in giving grass.
Commentators go all over the place with the Gospel. Some see a miracle. If you're a science fiction fan and like Star Trek like I do, you might think that Jesus had a replicator and replicated the bread. Others in what is described as the romantic liberal interpretation would say that everybody had food and, when the disciples started passing out the food, they started sharing.
Whatever happened, people saw a wonderful sign of God's caring and of God feeding his people. However you explain how the bread appeared, those who were there saw it as something truly miraculous. And this story must have been very important in the early church, because it's repeated time and time again in the Gospels.
I'm indebted to the theologian John Shea for a take that I want to give on the Gospel. He describes a time when, in a school that he taught at, they were planning. They studied the needs of the students, they designed a wonderful program to meet those needs, and then they looked at each other and asked, "But who's going to do it." They realized that they didn't have the staff to implement the wonderful program that they came up with.
In the our parish, when we plan,  we have meetings in which we come up with wonderful ideas, Then we sit, we look at each other, and we say, "But who's going to do it?" We realize we don't have anybody to do those wonderful things that we came up with. Frequently, we realize that we don't have the resources to do those wonderful ideas that we came up with,
So I can relate to that story by John Shea, because we sometimes meet and think of wonderful ideas, and nothing happens because we never tie down who's going to do it and what resources we need. John Shea says that's what happens when you begin with need. And he points to another dynamic in the Gospel today.
Jesus calls their attention to what they have. They have five loaves and two fish. Jesus calls them to give thanks for what they have, and he calls them to give it away. He blesses it and a miracle takes place.
As I thought of that, I wanted to suggest to you there are two ways we can approach things. One is up here in our head with statistical thinking, logistical thinking, and planning, and that has its place and is very good. But there's also a spirituality that is encompassed in the word "stewardship," and that's where we begin, with what we have. We begin with awareness of the blessings that God has given us, and we give thanks for those blessings. We allow ourselves to be blessed by them, and we give them away. And, when we give them away, something wonderful happens. Abundance is generated.
Let's pause and think of that in our own lives. Think for a moment of what you have, of what God has given you, and allow yourself to feel blessed by that and to feel gratitude. And then ask in what way is God calling you to give of that.

Homily for July 27, 2008

At the end of the Gospel I just read, Matthew says, "Jesus taught all these things by parables, and he taught only in parables, to fulfill the words of Scripture, 'I will open my mouth and reveal the things that have been hidden.'"
What are parables? They are not moral stories. They're not told to make a moral point. They don't have any single meaning, they have multiple meanings. They're an invitation into mystery.
You know, Jesus told parables about farming, about crops, and seeds sown, and weeds among the crops, and servants who did what they should do, and servants who did what they shouldn't do. One Scripture scholar points out that very early in the Church we shifted from images of field and farm to the images of buildings, because buildings are easier to deal with.
Let me illustrate. Buildings have blueprints, right? Buildings have specifications about what materials to use and what not to do. If you're building a building, you follow the blueprints, you have a construction timetable, and you cut and shape everything to fit the specifications. If you're OCD, buildings are very nice.
When you get to the world of the parables, the ground begins to shift under your feet. There are different kinds of soil. There are different kinds of seed. Even the seed that bears fruit bears different kind of fruit. There are weeds among the crops, and there is only so much you can do, and then what do you do? You wait. You just sit, pay attention and see the mystery of how it unfolds.
Of course, there are people trying to take the mystery out of farming, and they're trying to make better seeds, and more predictable yields, and fertilize the soil, and get the most out of it. There are also people urging us to do more earth friendly ways of farming, and more earth friendly ways of feeding ourselves. The world of parables is constantly shifting ground and perspectives, so that often we don't know where to stand.
Why is it that Jesus taught in parables? Well, at the point of Matthew's Gospel where this is written, things are not going well for Jesus. Things are not going well for his ministry. There's mounting opposition from the scribes and the Pharisees. Among his followers there are people who just don't get it. Some people are falling away, and the future is very uncertain, and what you see is very small.
In Matthew's church, things are not going well. The original mission they thought they had, failed. People were falling away, and there was tension and conflict. There were all sorts of opposing views, and there were sinners and saints.
So what do the parables teach us about how to live with that? By the way, things are not going well in our Church, either. We're confused about our mission, we sinners, we have arguments, we have liberals and conservatives and all sorts of people, and sometimes it looks like there's a lot of failure and the results are very small.
So what do the parables teach us? Well, there are weeds out there. It's a mixed bag. I was just thinking of some examples. We have in our Church bishops who are quite certain that they can tell pro choice politicians that they can't go to communion. We have other bishops, much to the dismay of conservatives, who invited pro choice politicians like John Kerry and Ted Kennedy to sit in the VIP sections of the masses the Pope said in New York and in Washington. We have people who want to cross all the Ts and dot all the Is. We have other people for who whom that is not very important. We have saints and sinners.
One friend of mine used to tell me (whenever I would complain about the Church, he would smile and shake his head and say),"They haven't learned their lines yet, have they?" Well, we have a lot of people who don't know their lines, and it would be so tempting to say, "Let's get rid of all the weeds. Let's make everybody toe the line."
By the way, if we did that, there wouldn't be a Holy Cross. But you see the temptation and what the parable tells us? "You know, you're not smart enough to do that. You don't have enough wisdom to do that. That judgment will take place someday, but in God's time. And it belongs to God to do that. If you try to do it, you're going to make a mess of things."
Now, I say that because that's my temperament. There are other parables where Jesus talks about the need for quick, bold and decisive action in face of the challenges. They're not the parables we have today. I'll have to struggle to find a homily on those parables when they come, but today we don't have those parables.
By the way, when I was preparing this, I remembered when I was asked to come to Holy Cross twelve years ago. This is the line they used to recruit me. They said, "Holy Cross needs somebody that knows how to let things be without losing control altogether." So I remind them of that many times when people complain. "This is why you asked me to go there."
I think the parable of the weeds and the wheat is our parable.
The other parables, the parable of the mustard seed and the leaven hidden in the dough can also speak to us.
Where do you look for the Kingdom of God? Where do you look for hope in our city? At the construction of Lucas Oil Stadium, or at small meetings in our neighborhood, where people come together to talk about neighborhood problems and neighborhood vision?
Where do you find the Kingdom of God? At a Mass in Yankee Stadium with 60,000 people, or in a small gathering of people trying to discern God's will for them, with all the messiness that's involved in trying to do that?
Where do you look for hope? Is it the big things, or is it to the little things that you can see around you every day, and letting those speak to your heart?
Finally, the second reading today is one of my most favorite passages of Scripture, and what it says, where do you find real prayer? Do you find it in well-thought-out eloquent words that are clear and inspiring and full of certainty, or do you find it in inexpressible groanings, in that groaning somewhere in your heart that you can't even find words for, that maybe you can't even find concepts for? Paul says that God's Spirit is in that groaning, and that God, who searches our hearts, knows what the Spirit means. I find that tremendously consoling.
That's my take on the parables, and as I said at the beginning, they don't have any single meaning. They have multiple meanings, and they're an invitation to you to step into a world where things are not predictable, but where God is at work in ways that are often hidden and often beyond our ability to figure things out.

Homily for July 27, 2008

At the end of the Gospel I just read, Matthew says, "Jesus taught all these things by parables, and he taught only in parables, to fulfill the words of Scripture, 'I will open my mouth and reveal the things that have been hidden.'"
What are parables? They are not moral stories. They're not told to make a moral point. They don't have any single meaning, they have multiple meanings. They're an invitation into mystery.
You know, Jesus told parables about farming, about crops, and seeds sown, and weeds among the crops, and servants who did what they should do, and servants who did what they shouldn't do. One Scripture scholar points out that very early in the Church we shifted from images of field and farm to the images of buildings, because buildings are easier to deal with.
Let me illustrate. Buildings have blueprints, right? Buildings have specifications about what materials to use and what not to do. If you're building a building, you follow the blueprints, you have a construction timetable, and you cut and shape everything to fit the specifications. If you're OCD, buildings are very nice.
When you get to the world of the parables, the ground begins to shift under your feet. There are different kinds of soil. There are different kinds of seed. Even the seed that bears fruit bears different kind of fruit. There are weeds among the crops, and there is only so much you can do, and then what do you do? You wait. You just sit, pay attention and see the mystery of how it unfolds.
Of course, there are people trying to take the mystery out of farming, and they're trying to make better seeds, and more predictable yields, and fertilize the soil, and get the most out of it. There are also people urging us to do more earth friendly ways of farming, and more earth friendly ways of feeding ourselves. The world of parables is constantly shifting ground and perspectives, so that often we don't know where to stand.
Why is it that Jesus taught in parables? Well, at the point of Matthew's Gospel where this is written, things are not going well for Jesus. Things are not going well for his ministry. There's mounting opposition from the scribes and the Pharisees. Among his followers there are people who just don't get it. Some people are falling away, and the future is very uncertain, and what you see is very small.
In Matthew's church, things are not going well. The original mission they thought they had, failed. People were falling away, and there was tension and conflict. There were all sorts of opposing views, and there were sinners and saints.
So what do the parables teach us about how to live with that? By the way, things are not going well in our Church, either. We're confused about our mission, we sinners, we have arguments, we have liberals and conservatives and all sorts of people, and sometimes it looks like there's a lot of failure and the results are very small.
So what do the parables teach us? Well, there are weeds out there. It's a mixed bag. I was just thinking of some examples. We have in our Church bishops who are quite certain that they can tell pro choice politicians that they can't go to communion. We have other bishops, much to the dismay of conservatives, who invited pro choice politicians like John Kerry and Ted Kennedy to sit in the VIP sections of the masses the Pope said in New York and in Washington. We have people who want to cross all the Ts and dot all the Is. We have other people for who whom that is not very important. We have saints and sinners.
One friend of mine used to tell me (whenever I would complain about the Church, he would smile and shake his head and say),"They haven't learned their lines yet, have they?" Well, we have a lot of people who don't know their lines, and it would be so tempting to say, "Let's get rid of all the weeds. Let's make everybody toe the line."
By the way, if we did that, there wouldn't be a Holy Cross. But you see the temptation and what the parable tells us? "You know, you're not smart enough to do that. You don't have enough wisdom to do that. That judgment will take place someday, but in God's time. And it belongs to God to do that. If you try to do it, you're going to make a mess of things."
Now, I say that because that's my temperament. There are other parables where Jesus talks about the need for quick, bold and decisive action in face of the challenges. They're not the parables we have today. I'll have to struggle to find a homily on those parables when they come, but today we don't have those parables.
By the way, when I was preparing this, I remembered when I was asked to come to Holy Cross twelve years ago. This is the line they used to recruit me. They said, "Holy Cross needs somebody that knows how to let things be without losing control altogether." So I remind them of that many times when people complain. "This is why you asked me to go there."
I think the parable of the weeds and the wheat is our parable.
The other parables, the parable of the mustard seed and the leaven hidden in the dough can also speak to us.
Where do you look for the Kingdom of God? Where do you look for hope in our city? At the construction of Lucas Oil Stadium, or at small meetings in our neighborhood, where people come together to talk about neighborhood problems and neighborhood vision?
Where do you find the Kingdom of God? At a Mass in Yankee Stadium with 60,000 people, or in a small gathering of people trying to discern God's will for them, with all the messiness that's involved in trying to do that?
Where do you look for hope? Is it the big things, or is it to the little things that you can see around you every day, and letting those speak to your heart?
Finally, the second reading today is one of my most favorite passages of Scripture, and what it says, where do you find real prayer? Do you find it in well-thought-out eloquent words that are clear and inspiring and full of certainty, or do you find it in inexpressible groanings, in that groaning somewhere in your heart that you can't even find words for, that maybe you can't even find concepts for? Paul says that God's Spirit is in that groaning, and that God, who searches our hearts, knows what the Spirit means. I find that tremendously consoling.
That's my take on the parables, and as I said at the beginning, they don't have any single meaning. They have multiple meanings, and they're an invitation to you to step into a world where things are not predictable, but where God is at work in ways that are often hidden and often beyond our ability to figure things out.

Homily for July 20, 2008

At the end of the Gospel I just read, Matthew says, "Jesus taught all these things by parables, and he taught only in parables, to fulfill the words of Scripture, 'I will open my mouth and reveal the things that have been hidden.'"
What are parables? They are not moral stories. They're not told to make a moral point. They don't have any single meaning, they have multiple meanings. They're an invitation into mystery.
You know, Jesus told parables about farming, about crops, and seeds sown, and weeds among the crops, and servants who did what they should do, and servants who did what they shouldn't do. One Scripture scholar points out that very early in the Church we shifted from images of field and farm to the images of buildings, because buildings are easier to deal with.
Let me illustrate. Buildings have blueprints, right? Buildings have specifications about what materials to use and what not to do. If you're building a building, you follow the blueprints, you have a construction timetable, and you cut and shape everything to fit the specifications. If you're OCD, buildings are very nice.
When you get to the world of the parables, the ground begins to shift under your feet. There are different kinds of soil. There are different kinds of seed. Even the seed that bears fruit bears different kind of fruit. There are weeds among the crops, and there is only so much you can do, and then what do you do? You wait. You just sit, pay attention and see the mystery of how it unfolds.
Of course, there are people trying to take the mystery out of farming, and they're trying to make better seeds, and more predictable yields, and fertilize the soil, and get the most out of it. There are also people urging us to do more earth friendly ways of farming, and more earth friendly ways of feeding ourselves. The world of parables is constantly shifting ground and perspectives, so that often we don't know where to stand.
Why is it that Jesus taught in parables? Well, at the point of Matthew's Gospel where this is written, things are not going well for Jesus. Things are not going well for his ministry. There's mounting opposition from the scribes and the Pharisees. Among his followers there are people who just don't get it. Some people are falling away, and the future is very uncertain, and what you see is very small.
In Matthew's church, things are not going well. The original mission they thought they had, failed. People were falling away, and there was tension and conflict. There were all sorts of opposing views, and there were sinners and saints.
So what do the parables teach us about how to live with that? By the way, things are not going well in our Church, either. We're confused about our mission, we sinners, we have arguments, we have liberals and conservatives and all sorts of people, and sometimes it looks like there's a lot of failure and the results are very small.
So what do the parables teach us? Well, there are weeds out there. It's a mixed bag. I was just thinking of some examples. We have in our Church bishops who are quite certain that they can tell pro choice politicians that they can't go to communion. We have other bishops, much to the dismay of conservatives, who invited pro choice politicians like John Kerry and Ted Kennedy to sit in the VIP sections of the masses the Pope said in New York and in Washington. We have people who want to cross all the Ts and dot all the Is. We have other people for who whom that is not very important. We have saints and sinners.
One friend of mine used to tell me (whenever I would complain about the Church, he would smile and shake his head and say),"They haven't learned their lines yet, have they?" Well, we have a lot of people who don't know their lines, and it would be so tempting to say, "Let's get rid of all the weeds. Let's make everybody toe the line."
By the way, if we did that, there wouldn't be a Holy Cross. But you see the temptation and what the parable tells us? "You know, you're not smart enough to do that. You don't have enough wisdom to do that. That judgment will take place someday, but in God's time. And it belongs to God to do that. If you try to do it, you're going to make a mess of things."
Now, I say that because that's my temperament. There are other parables where Jesus talks about the need for quick, bold and decisive action in face of the challenges. They're not the parables we have today. I'll have to struggle to find a homily on those parables when they come, but today we don't have those parables.
By the way, when I was preparing this, I remembered when I was asked to come to Holy Cross twelve years ago. This is the line they used to recruit me. They said, "Holy Cross needs somebody that knows how to let things be without losing control altogether." So I remind them of that many times when people complain. "This is why you asked me to go there."
I think the parable of the weeds and the wheat is our parable.
The other parables, the parable of the mustard seed and the leaven hidden in the dough can also speak to us.
Where do you look for the Kingdom of God? Where do you look for hope in our city? At the construction of Lucas Oil Stadium, or at small meetings in our neighborhood, where people come together to talk about neighborhood problems and neighborhood vision?
Where do you find the Kingdom of God? At a Mass in Yankee Stadium with 60,000 people, or in a small gathering of people trying to discern God's will for them, with all the messiness that's involved in trying to do that?
Where do you look for hope? Is it the big things, or is it to the little things that you can see around you every day, and letting those speak to your heart?
Finally, the second reading today is one of my most favorite passages of Scripture, and what it says, where do you find real prayer? Do you find it in well-thought-out eloquent words that are clear and inspiring and full of certainty, or do you find it in inexpressible groanings, in that groaning somewhere in your heart that you can't even find words for, that maybe you can't even find concepts for? Paul says that God's Spirit is in that groaning, and that God, who searches our hearts, knows what the Spirit means. I find that tremendously consoling.
That's my take on the parables, and as I said at the beginning, they don't have any single meaning. They have multiple meanings, and they're an invitation to you to step into a world where things are not predictable, but where God is at work in ways that are often hidden and often beyond our ability to figure things out.