Fr. Rick Spicer

Jesus when sharing today’s parable did so amongst people who lived in rural settings and could relate to his description of different soils and farming methods. Today this masterful storyteller might give us a different parable.

“A terrible sickness struck a village. The people were terrified of getting sick and wanted to know what to do.

“The doctor asked the people to wear face masks to protect one another. ‘We will!’ they all said. Some did for awhile, but they found the masks uncomfortable, and made it difficult to breathe, so they stopped wearing them.

“The rabbi asked the people to share their food with the poor and sick. ‘We will!’ they also promised. But many became more and more concerned for their own need and that of their families as time went on, so they kept their barns and larders full and locked.

“The mayor asked the merchants to close their shops and innkeepers to close their taverns so people would not gather and spread the sickness. ‘We will!’ they all agreed. They did so for a few days, but their profits dropped, and they could not pay their staff, so, slowly, one by one, they quietly reopened their shops and inns. Soon, the sickness took the lives of many in the poor village.

“But then there were the good folks who understood that wearing face masks protected others from the sickness, who kept their distance from one another so the sickness would not spread, even though they missed one another’s company terribly, who readily shared what they had with those who had little. Oh, it was very hard, and there were many days when they wanted to give up. But they persevered.

“Because of them, many people did not get sick and they survived. Blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears because they hear.” Jesus would have said.

The parable of the sower challenges us to check the “thinness” of the soil in our hearts that results in our faith withering in the noonday heat; the “rockiness” of self-centeredness and avarice that prevents God’s “seed” of generosity and peace from taking root in us; the “thorns” of bigotry and self-righteousness that “choke” the possibility of us providing for the poor, healing the broken-hearted, lifting up the fallen, and respecting peoples different from us.

Our own response to the coronavirus is a good measure of the “richness” of our faith and its potential for the “seed” of God’s Word to take root in our lives and realize the harvest of justice and compassion that can be found only in the kingdom of God.

These readings speak loudly and clearly of hope. Paul tells us in the opening line of his letter, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us.” That glory he speaks of is our salvation, which as the parable suggests, is not to be taken for granted. Faith is what is necessary for salvation. Not the works of the law, only faith but what kind of faith? Not an intellectual faith that might protest, “Sure, I believe all that stuff, Father. I’ve been a Catholic all my life.”

Faith is much more than intellectually professing who Jesus is and what he taught. Faith is an act on our part, which establishes a personal union between Jesus and us. Faith is the way we look at the world and everything in it. Faith is a commitment of love. Such an attitude enables God’s Word to take root in our hearts and bear abundant fruit.

Everyone who is serious about his or her faith longs to give

birth to the Kingdom of God. Paul uses the image of labor pains to make that point. We want to make God’s kingdom a reality but that task is constantly challenging.

While we are truly free to follow Christ, he points out that outside sources will continually persuade us not to. Jesus speaks of different conditions that prevent God’s Word from taking root. The first is the devil, represented by birds, the second example, the rocky soil, alludes to laziness and comfort, our ingrained love for them curtails any efforts we would make toward self-sacrifice; and the third is our culture, the product of fallen human nature, represented by the thorns in his parable. The fallen world promises us perfect happiness, but that is false for only God can satisfy the human heart. When we fight immorality, we not only avoid sin, we are allowing God’s Word to influence the world we live in.

Jesus’ message is to point out that the Kingdom of Heaven is not an entitlement. The seed is planted in us at our baptism, but are we nurturing it? If not, it will die as would any plant that is neglected. When we follow God’s will and stay true to our friendship with Christ even in the face of these wayward influences, then our lives will bear an abundant harvest of wisdom, compassion and happiness.

Heaven is to be our eternal home but only if and when we let God’s seeds take root and produce such fruit in us.

In the course of a year, I probably read this gospel passage more than any other because it is one of those provided for use during the sacrament of the sick. How timely that we hear this gospel passage in the midst of what is going on now. The number of patients ill with the Covid 19 virus is staggering. The number of new cases each day is unsettling.

As I said, I often read this passage when I am about to anoint someone who is ill. The translation I use is one that you heard years ago. “Come to me, all you who are weary and find life burdensome, and I will refresh you. Take my yoke upon your shoulders and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart. Your souls will find rest, for my yoke is easy and my burden light.”

When someone asked me recently how I felt, I confess that the word weary popped into mind. Five months ago, the coronavirus was an illness elsewhere. Little did any of us imagine back then how in such a short time, this virus would disrupt our lives, compelling us to alter our routines from shopping to socializing; from the manner we work to how we worship. Instead of fading into history now that summer is here, the bug is becoming even more prevalent. Who among us isn’t weary and finding all of this burdensome?

The uplifting news is that Jesus will refresh us. The image that comes to mind is the coach giving his team a pep talk. Picture them in the locker room at half time, somewhat dejected because they appear to be losing the game, so he is prepping them with a new game plan for the second half.

Jesus, our life coach, is encouraging us to take his yoke and learn from him. Admittedly, the image of a yoke seems so discouraging rather than refreshing, so I then invite the person being anointed to picture different kinds of yokes.

There is the typical yoke used on donkeys or oxen to pull a plow or cart. That sounds rather burdensome if you ask me. Another kind of yoke is used by a farmer on his shoulders to carry buckets of water or his harvest. Better yet, there is the yoke carried by two farmers to haul the harvest. That version reminds me that Jesus is offering to help us carry our load, especially when we are weary and find life burdensome.

So what then is the yoke he offers us? His law. Those who heard Jesus initially were burdened by the many rules laid down by the Pharisees, who had come up with over 600 based on the Torah to govern the lives of their fellow Jews. They saw themselves as wise and learned, comfortable with their own wisdom, but according to Jesus, they did not know God well. For example, for them not working on the Sabbath allowed for no unnecessary work, even swatting a fly.

Jesus replaced all that with the commandment to love, showing us that when we love we experience salvation. Imagine the difference love makes in your lives when love rather than self-centeredness motivates how you feel toward others and relate to them from the members of your own family to your friends to even the strangers in your midst. The yoke we must as his disciples take is the burden of love. Love is the antidote God offers us for overcoming sin and its consequences, which we find quite burdensome at times.

Take my yoke, Jesus tells us, and we will find rest. St. John Chrysostom once said, “Not this or that person, but all that are in anxiety, in sorrows, in sins. Come, not that I may call you to account, but that I may do away with your sins; come, not because I want your honor, but because I want your salvation. ‘And I,’ says he, ‘will give you rest.’” This saint’s advice is as timely today for us as it was 1600 years ago.

“Learn from me for I am meek and humble of heart.” Unlike the many regulations of the Pharisees, the yoke that Jesus offers us is not complicated or difficult to understand and carry out. His yoke provides a discipline of simplicity that will yield harmony and joy in our lives and the lives of others.

Unlike the multitude of protests going on, resulting in much violence and hurt, his yoke provides the source of the widespread peace we all yearn for. If we begin to live and relate to one another with compassion and love, we shall experience the coming of the peaceable kingdom.

Deep down we all yearn for peace; not only the elusive peace that signals the end of conflict, but also peace within our personal lives as well. That peace can be found when we heed our coach’s advice. Take up his yoke of love, compassion and forgiveness. Cast aside those burdens that are robbing you of peace. “Come to me, all you who are weary and find life burdensome, and I will give you rest!” No one else can make that claim.

If you were anticipating a “feel good” gospel this morning, this one likely disappointed you with its harsh opening lines.

None of us would be here, however, if we didn’t really love Jesus and believe that he is the way, the truth and the life. We were not obliged to leave the comfort of our homes to attend Mass this morning or tune in on FB, but we chose to because deep down we know that Jesus offers us the path to the happiness we seek.

Next Saturday, we will celebrate Independence Day. On July 4, 1776, brave men signed the Declaration of Independence. Its opening lines spoke volumes to countless peoples ever since. “We hold these truths to be self evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these rights are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

Happiness doesn’t come cheap nor does love. But if we are to experience them, Jesus provides us with the blueprint for doing so. He isn’t telling us to not love our family. He wants us to love them just as he loves us. If we wish to be his disciple, however, Jesus must come first in our lives. We must be committed to following him so that even our loved ones cannot stop us from heeding his wisdom. This isn’t an either/or situation; it is both/and. The more we love Jesus, the more we will love other people.

Jesus then commands us, “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.” He isn’t saying, ”If you follow me, I will make you suffer.” Everyone, regardless of the faith they follow, lives with a certain measure of suffering. There is no such thing as a pain free life. We can be certain that God doesn’t enjoy our suffering. Dying on the cross, Jesus truly suffered for us.

Suffering is a mystery that we cannot fully understand. When we join our suffering to the suffering Jesus endured, in some way our suffering becomes redeeming for us as well. There is a big difference between taking up our cross in faith or just dragging it.

We are born into the world self-centered and self-absorbed, concerned only about ourselves. Our lifelong struggle is to move away from being self-centered and self-seeking. Jesus shows us how. He is the model of who we can be. His whole orientation is the opposite of self-centeredness.

Jesus cautions us, “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” In other words, the more we seek our own happiness, the less happy we are. The more we are focused inwardly on ourselves, the more miserable we become. Jesus advises us, that the more we become concerned with the happiness of others, the more we experience joy and fulfillment. At first glance that makes little sense but our own experience bears this out.

Our most unhappy times happen when we we were concerned only about ourselves, and we made our needs the center of our attention. Our happiest times are those when we forget ourselves in love and service to others.

Some people have taken on values inherited from parents and peers that run contrary to the blueprint for happiness that Jesus has spelled out for us.  The most glaring example that comes to mind is racism. Recently, our bishops wrote, “Racism occurs because a person ignores the fundamental truth that, because all humans share a common origin, they are all brothers and sisters, all equally made in the image of God. When this truth is ignored, the consequence is prejudice and fear of the other, and—all too often—hatred.”

Until we find a way to remove hatred, nothing will change.

Speaking prophetically, Archbishop Etienne last month wrote, “As Catholics, we cannot stand by and not respond to incidents of racism and inhuman treatment of our black brothers and sisters, or anyone else. The fact that we are created in the image of God teaches us that each person is a living expression of God who must be respected and preserved and never dishonored.” Racism may not be your personal issue but have you another prejudice that prevents you from seeing God in others?

Hospitality is one of the great virtues of the Bible. The virtue of hospitality is far more than being a good host at a dinner party.  Hospitality means encountering the presence of God in others, even in those whom we least expect. The ancient Jews believed that each person should be welcomed as though one were welcoming God himself.  Do we welcome those who are different from us? Not always. Yet Jesus is challenging us to do so, which is why welcoming the stranger is listed as a corporal work of mercy. Simply put, hospitality means keeping the doors of our hearts open.

This gospel passage is full of profound truths that hold the key to our happiness. Jesus has given us the key and now it is up to you and me to use this key and find the happiness we have long pursued.

This being the first day of summer, I imagine most children on the island are looking forward to enjoying their vacation. The notion of returning to the classroom may be the last thing on their mind right now.

In one of the last Sunday episodes of Peanuts, Lucy is about to leave for school with her little brother Rerun but he can’t be found. Lucy eventually finds him hiding under his bed.

“I’m never going to school again,” Rerun cries from under the bed. “The teacher asked me if I thought I’ve learned everything I need to know. I think she is being sarcastic. Anyway, I said, ‘Yes.’ Now she’s mad at me.”

Lucy then asks, “Do you think you’ve learned everything you need to know?” Rerun replied, “I think I’ve learned all I need to know to live under a bed.”

Due to the myriad of stresses and complexities of life imposed on us by the pandemic and tensions rising from ongoing protests across the country in reaction to racism and white supremacy, we seek a nice, safe, comfortable place to protect ourselves from the horrible and to avoid the unpleasant. We’d like to hide under the bed and dodge the confrontations and risks that assail us daily if we could.

Despite what Jesus said, fear is a big part of life. We’re afraid of many things: the aftermath of injustice and intolerance, the rise of violence and terrorism, economic problems arising from the quarantine and a pandemic that has claimed too many lives and been a part of our daily reality for too long and will likely linger for months to come.

Fear is most destructive when it forces us under our beds and cripples us from accomplishing what is good and right and just. Dr. Martin Luther King preached, “Courage is the inner resolution to go forward despite obstacles; cowardice is submissive surrender to circumstances. Courage breeds creative self-affirmation; cowardice produces destructive self-abnegation. Courage faces fear and masters it; cowardice represses fear and is mastered by it.”

Jesus said to his disciples, “Fear no one,” as they were about to go forth and evangelize, since, he assures them, no person can destroy another person’s soul. Ultimately if anyone is to be feared, God would be the one for only God determines our eternal fate in hell or heaven.  Until the moment of judgment, God is caring and compassionate, knowing us so well that every one of our hairs is counted.

Do you believe that God knows you that well? Yes, God is concerned about each and every one of us. As Jesus then points out, “Do not be afraid. You are worth more than many sparrows.” Yes, you are worth so much that Jesus died on the cross so that you could spend eternity with him in his heavenly mansion.

What are also counted are our good deeds, the depth of our relationship with God and our willingness to acknowledge God before others. On the day of our judgment, Jesus will say, ”This is one of my faithful disciples,” or “This one is not mine.” What Jesus will say about us depends on how faithful we are to the unique mission for which God created us.

We are back in ordinary time and the readings today bring up something quite ordinary: sin and fear. Why does Jesus caution us not to fear? He often tells us to love God and one another. Think about this: If we are afraid of someone, we cannot love that person. If we are afraid of God, we cannot really love God. Fear gets in the way of love. No wonder Jesus tells us, “Fear no one.”

At Mass, following the Lord’s Prayer, the celebrant prays, “Deliver us Lord, from every evil and grant us peace in our day. In your mercy, keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our savior Jesus Christ.”  With this prayer, we admit our dependence on God to protect us from fear.

While Jesus describes God as one who knows us so well as to know the number of hairs on our head, that doesn’t protect us from suffering, which is so often the consequence of free will and sin, either the choices we make or others make. Still God knows every struggle of every believer and graces suffering with divine presence.

Through the centuries faithful followers have drawn fire from enemies of the Church and Jesus. Many suffered cruelly for their belief but they found strength in Jesus’ words, “Be not afraid,” which enabled them to persevere rather than quit.

Our commitment to Christ is often put to the test. Like Jeremiah, we may hear denunciations. Don’t be afraid if people call you names because you have the courage to live your faith. We may suffer for our faith but God will never abandon or forget us. Jesus clearly doesn’t want us to hide under the bed.

If we have lived each day acknowledging Jesus before others each in our own way, whispered or proclaimed from the housetop, then we need not be afraid, for God is with us every step of the way to the threshold of heaven, looking forward someday to welcoming us to our eternal home.

The past three months have been a long stretch for us, enduring a fast that none of us ever expected. No doubt we are hungry. Hungry for human contact, hungry to reconnect with family and friends beyond the walls of our home. Hungry for peace of mind in the midst of current tensions simmering from coast to coast. Hungry to get back to “normal.”

And some of you have been hungry for bread itself. I don’t mean what one can find on the shelf at a nearby grocery store, but the bread of life, Jesus himself.

Welcome back. Today’s feast, which celebrates the core of our worship, provides an opportune setting for us to come together for the first time in months to celebrate Jesus’ presence in our lives. Of course, there are many ways that Jesus is present. He is present in the beauty of nature, from the smile of a baby to a view of the Cascades. He is present whenever we are gathered in his name and he is present in the Word of scripture. His greatest presence, however, is his real presence in the Eucharist.

Today’s feast is an fitting time for us to reflect on what happens at Mass. As every Catholic knows, bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ. They are not symbols of the Lord. They become the Lord. We call this sacrament holy communion because it is the joining of the faith community with Jesus Christ becoming present in each person who receives the Eucharist. Receiving communion isn’t just a private event between Jesus and the person who receives him. When doing this, he or she is publicly proclaiming to be part of the Catholic community.

This is an timely moment for some Eucharistic theology. At Mass, during the consecration, the substance of bread and wine are changed, although their appearance remains the same. Now, if you are skeptical, my response is this. If God, our creator, can create all that exists out of nothing from viruses to all living creatures, from the bluffs of our island to the most distant galaxies out of nothing, who are we to limit what God can do?

Granted, if you look at a host through a microscope, you couldn’t tell the difference between one that is and is not consecrated. The molecules of a consecrated host will resemble that of an unconsecrated host, not the molecules of a human body. Still we know the substance has been changed. By the power of the Holy Spirit, the bread and wine when consecrated truly become Jesus Christ. The substance of our gifts has changed, which is why they are now treated with reverence.

When we receive communion, we are receiving Christ, thus we have the potential to be changed as well. We believe this because of what Jesus said at the Last Supper. Detailed accounts of this meal appear in the gospels. They speak of Jesus blessing bread and saying, “This is my body.” Then sharing the cup and saying, “This is my blood.” Unlike some other passages in scripture, when he speaks figuratively or metaphorically, we now find Jesus speaking literally.

In the Eucharist, Jesus endeavors to nourish us. He knows our needs even before we express them. He is there for us, but we have to go beyond just receiving him to fully appreciate all that he is offering us. We have to let his presence transform us. When we allow Christ to do that, we are preparing ourselves to accept his gift of eternal life.

Think of the Eucharist as the Lord’s dying gift to you. We receive his body and blood, his humanity and his divinity. Now you may be thinking, “But I can’t have the cup.” True, but when you partake of one species, you actually receive both the body and blood of Jesus Christ. You become the body of Christ. Ideally, we then feel empowered to manifest his presence to others by what we say and do.

I presume that you have received the latest issue of Northwest Catholic, which contains a pastoral letter from Archbishop Etienne, entitled The Work of Redemption. Beginning today, we are entering a Year of the Eucharist. In the year ahead, he is urging us to deepen our awareness of the Eucharist. Some of you, for example, are doing that by reading the book on the Mass, which we are giving out to interested parishioners.

The archbishop notes, “There is nothing else like the Eucharist on earth: comparisons cannot do it justice!” This food and drink is different from any other food and drink. Do you view the Eucharist in the same way he does?

Not every one does. When it comes to human behavior, we tend to become complacent if we do the same task often enough, going through the motions without much thought. Now that you have been away from the sacrament for three months, I hope you are eager to become one with him, like a child about to receive first communion, saying “Amen!” with gratitude as you do so. We cannot be satisfied with just receiving communion though. We have to let his presence transform us. You have heard that we are what we eat. Christ’s body and blood becomes our flesh and blood. When we attentively partake of Christ in communion, we allow ourselves to be drawn deeply into the way he thought, felt, hoped and acted.