Homilies

A pebble underfoot can quickly spoil the pleasure of walking around in sandals, painfully distracting one’s attention from the beauty of a beach scene. The same can be said for a word in the midst of a paragraph. In this instance, the word is “subordinate,” mentioned several times in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. In the older translation of the New American Bible, the word had been “submissive,” which turned many people off. Angered by such chauvinist language, many listeners missed the point that Paul was making regarding commitment.  Along with Joshua and Jesus, he is challenging us to examine the depth of our commitments.

 

The husband, Paul points out, is to commit himself just as totally to his wife as Christ committed himself to the Church. You and I know how far Jesus went for the Church and for us; ideally, every husband should do the same for his wife.  Spouses cannot form a true marriage if they are jealously guarding their own rights. Each person has to sacrifice something, give up some of their personal prerogatives.

 

Years ago I read about a husband who did just that. His name was Bill Havens, a member of the US canoe team for the 1924 Olympics. As the time for the games neared, Bill found himself faced with a choice. His wife was expecting their first child. Should he go to Paris for the games or stay home? She insisted that he go; after all, he had been working hard at this for years. After much soul searching, Bill decided to stay home so that he could be at her bedside when their first child was born. Being committed to his wife, Bill knew he had to put his life long dream aside.

 

The temptation we often face is keep our commitments half heartedly instead of totally. By our actions or lack of actions, we declare what we are really committed to. Joshua knew what his commitment was. He also knew that many who had followed him through the exodus to the Promised Land were not so certain. They were now attracted to the new gods of their neighbors. “If it does not please you to serve the Lord, decide today whom you will serve. As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

 

Joshua could ask the same question of us. Whom do we serve? Our presence suggests that we desire to serve the Lord but how deep is that commitment? Is your presence here at Mass your top priority on any given weekend? Or is your decision to be here or not easily influenced by other things? Are there other gods such as sports that keep you from honoring your commitment to live the Catholic faith?

 

As I look around each time I preside at Mass, I am mindful of those who are absent for any number of reasons even though they haven’t moved off island. How committed they are to the Eucharist? Could it be that they don’t really understand or value this special gift? Perhaps they are absent for the same reason that prompted many of the disciples to leave. “This sort of talk is hard to endure. How can anyone take it seriously?”

 

Many of the teachings of our Catholic faith are difficult to accept yet they are, I believe, ultimately intended to bring us to a deeper awareness of God. The more committed we are to learning about our faith, the more readily we can see the wisdom of what is asked of us.

 

Like the disciples who left his ranks then, many Catholics do so today, living their faith selectively, ignoring what isn’t so convenient. We tend to call that approach to our faith, cafeteria Catholicism. I wonder at what point Jesus may want to ask them, “Do you also want to leave?”

 

I can easily imagine what Bill Havens, the would-be Olympian, would have said. By the way, there is a sequel to his story that illustrates the impact our commitments can have on those around us.

 

In 1952, twenty eight years after passing up his chance to participate in the Olympics, Bill received a cablegram from Helsinki, Finland. It read, “Dad, I won. I’m bringing home the gold medal you lost waiting for me to be born.” Yes, Bill’s generous commitment to his wife inspired his son, Frank, to pursue his father’s dream. This is a point I suspect many parents don’t think about often enough.

 

How readily spouses live out their commitments to one another and to God by living their faith is carefully observed by their children, who in turn will often use their example as a model for honoring their own commitments in life. When we commit ourselves to God or to another person, that decision impacts us and the world around us.

 

It was clear that Jesus was not the kind of messiah that many people were expecting or chose to accept. As the gospel relates, some of his disciples returned home disappointed. These are hard sayings, who can accept them? Can we? Do we?

 

The bottom line is this; Jesus is asking us to make a decision which defines our relationship to him and to each other.  When faced with the question of remaining committed to our faith, hopefully we can put ourselves in Peter’s sandals who asked, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the holy one of God.”

The last time I preached on these readings, I was on a cruise ship bound for Alaska. As you can well imagine, most of the passengers on board were looking forward to a week of superb foods and fine wines. Thus, the opening passage from Wisdom provided a very fitting backdrop for our trip, “Come, eat of my food and drink the wine I have mixed!”

 

Even Paul and Jesus speak of feasting. Continuing on what he said last week in which he calls on Christians to live in a manner worthy of those who have been called by Christ, Paul now makes the point that to live a good life in the name of Christ, we must try to understand the will of the Lord.

 

Trying to understand the will of Jesus Christ doesn’t come easy, certainly not, when it comes to what he is telling us in today’s gospel.  Jesus startled a fair number of people when he said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever.”  Notice that he didn’t make this claim casually. Nor was he speaking of symbols or metaphors. In fact, unlike any other point made elsewhere in the four gospels, Jesus was so emphatic that he reiterates his message in this brief passage four more times. In no uncertain terms, he is telling anyone who is listening, “If you eat my flesh, you will live forever.”

 

Many who first heard Jesus were understandably offended. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Had they been there, today’s generation would likely have said, “How gross!”  How his words have been understood and dealt with over time has generated numerous debates, prompting in part the Protestant reformation by those who chose to refrain from such worship because they could not comprehend how one could literally eat the flesh of the Son of Man.

 

Even within our own Church, a fair number of Catholics have a difficult time literally accepting what Jesus is saying here. The claim is made that up to 2/3 of surveyed Catholics don’t believe that Jesus is really present in the Eucharist. Perhaps that is why so many don’t see the beauty of this gift we have before us. Unlike with most non Catholics, this isn’t a matter of conscious dissent on their part. It is a profound ignorance of what the Eucharist really is; a sad outcome of the generic approach to religious education used in the past.

 

Have that many Catholics lost sight of the most central truth of our faith? Namely, that Jesus Christ literally gives himself to us in this sacrament? Notice that Jesus isn’t content to just send a message about himself whenever we celebrate the Mass. He didn’t tell us that the bread and wine would merely represent him. He actually gives himself to us in the Eucharist.  Can you believe that? Do you believe that?

 

We call this belief in the Eucharist the real presence. We don’t take communion simply to remind us of Jesus. Rather, we take communion to become one with Jesus. As the saying goes, we become what we eat. By eating his flesh, we enter into an intimate union with Jesus Christ.

 

Let me tell you about one of my heroes and his belief in the Real Presence of Jesus, Archbishop Oscar Romero of San Salvador. When he became bishop in 1977, he was a quiet and unassuming priest. As archbishop, he fought against government sponsored injustice in his country.  When soldiers occupied a church once, he risked his life to retrieve and protect the Blessed Sacrament. On March 24, 1980, while celebrating Mass, he was shot at the moment he elevated the host during the consecration. Like Jesus, he became a martyr for the truth and a prophet of justice.  This man truly appreciated this priceless gift from Jesus Christ.

 

For us to better appreciate what Jesus is offering us here, let’s step back a bit and ponder just what a sacrament is. Many people think of the sacraments as mere human inventions, or some form of Christianized magic, or just empty works. To correct these misunderstandings, the Catechism provides a concise two part definition of a sacrament. First, they are words and actions accessible to our human nature. They aren’t abstract notions or empty words. They are signs—water, oil, wine and bread— that are concrete and material in nature that we can feel and touch. Second, “By the action of Christ and the Holy Spirit, they make present efficaciously the grace that they signify.”

 

Because the sacraments are the work of Jesus and not simply human creations, they enable us to partake in his divine nature. If you are wondering how material things could impart spiritual power, keep in mind that God became man in the person of Jesus and did so to become one with us.

 

Although he is by virtue of his divine nature limitless in what he can do, Jesus made a choice to accept the limitations of a human body. He did this so that he could be present to us in time and space as a man living in first century Palestine. At the end of his life he underwent a process which enabled him to break through the barriers of time and space. For this reason, he is able to offer us his body even though we live twenty centuries and thousands of miles apart from him. If we so desire, Jesus gives us the opportunity to connect with him on the deepest possible level.  For those who believe, he is the living bread come down from heaven. If we eat his flesh and drink his blood, we will have his life within us, the only life which endures forever.

 

Now, if that isn’t food for thought, I don’t know what is. As for me, I believe every word Jesus said. Do you?

Elijah wasn’t the only person who prayed to die because he had enough of life. Perhaps you too have known someone with the blahs who felt that way. One such person was a woman named Kathy who shared a third story apartment with her friend, Mary. When struck with pneumonia, she lost her will to live, refusing to even take food or drink.

 

Mary came into Kathy’s bedroom and found her counting backwards. “Ten…nine…eight…seven…” Mary asked what she was doing and Kathy replied that she was counting the leaves on an old ivy plant on the brick wall. “A few days ago, there were hundreds of them. Now there are only a few left. I believe I will die when the last leaf falls.”

 

After trying in vain to talk this nonsense out of her friend’s mind, Mary left the room to find help. She encountered Benson, an elderly mediocre artist, who lived in a basement apartment and shared with him her friend’s condition. “Leave her to me,” he said.  When Mary went back to Kathy’s room, she found her asleep. Looking out the window, she noticed a steady rain was falling and the wind was blowing.

 

The next morning when she entered Kathy’s room, Mary found her awake and staring out the window. To her surprise, despite the beating rain and gusty wind, there was still one leaf left on the ivy. “It’s the last one,” Kathy said sadly, “But surely it will fall today and I will die at the same time.” The day wore on and still the lone leaf clung to the branch. When evening came, it was still raining steadily.

 

At the first sign of dawn on the second morning, Kathy was amazed to see that the lone leaf, a mixture of yellow and green, was still there! She then said to Mary, “Something has made that leaf stay there to show me how wrong I was. Please bring me some soup.” 

 

That was the beginning of her recovery. The next day, her doctor told her she was out of danger.  

 

Leaving the room, he told Mary that her neighbor, Benson, had caught pneumonia two days earlier and was dying.  Later that afternoon, Mary found Kathy up in bed knitting. “I have some sad news to share. Benson died this morning.  Look out the window at the last leaf. Did you ever wonder why it never moved in the wind? Benson painted it there the night the last leaf fell.” By painting that leaf, such a small thing, he saved the girl from despair, but it cost him his life.

 

What Benson did for Kathy, Jesus did for us. He died on the cross to save us from sin. Seeing that lone leaf clinging to the vine gave Kathy a new lease on life. Likewise, for countless people, seeing what Jesus did on the cross, totally giving of himself, gives them a new lease on life.

 

Granted, many people fail to see, much less appreciate, the true beauty of what Jesus has to offer when he said, “Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life, the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

 

As with the Jews who first heard what Jesus said, his lines don’t make sense to those who want a rational explanation. His words seem silly, puzzling, and even pretentious. “How can he say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” For them, a major stumbling block is accepting the notion that Jesus is fully divine and fully human.  For the believer, there is nothing that limits Jesus in whatever he chooses to do, including giving us himself as living bread from heaven, anymore than there is anything that limits God for he is God.

 

The impact Eucharist can have on us varies from person to person. Much depends on where we are coming from when we receive communion. For the Catholic who truly believes, Holy Communion is the life giving experience that Jesus promises. For the communicant who comes poorly prepared, the grace and impact from this living bread may be as minimal as the amount of calories found in the host itself.

 

The key word when it comes to receiving communion is ‘believe.’ What exactly does John mean here? According to Fr. Scott Lewis, a theology professor at Regis College in Toronto, he isn’t speaking of an intellectual assent to creeds or doctrines. A better description of ‘believe’ would be ‘total surrender.’ By giving oneself completely to the reality of Jesus the Christ, and believing in Jesus “we allow our minds, hearts, and sacred imagination to be transformed into the pattern of Christ himself. Belief is a way of being and living. It should affect the way we relate to others, do business, study, speak, raise families, work and even the way we view the world. But most of all, belief in Christ is a willingness to pattern ourselves on him, revealing the same God in the person we become and the life we lead.”

 

Calling himself the Bread of Life, Jesus promises us a bread that will never go stale. Many people who have had the blahs have found strength and hope in this new manna which came down from heaven. This Bread of Life helped them to face life itself. The psalmist today said it so perfectly, “Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.” Good words where daily life for many people is a diet of despair.

 

So, how much do you trust him on this promise that we could live forever? How much do you hunger for this Bread of Life? If a man like Benson could care so much, don’t you think Christ will care a lot more about you?

When my siblings gather for a reunion, we sometimes share stories of our childhood years together. My brother, seven years my junior, once related some episodes with me that I had no recollection of, a reminder that we don’t remember everything that has happened in our lives. We recall the meaningful events, while many incidents are long forgotten.

 

One unforgettable event in the life of Jesus that Peter, James and John never forgot was so profound, that it was recounted in all three synoptic gospels. A light shattering experience, you could say, as they viewed the glory of Jesus in the presence of Moses and Elijah. At first they were terrified, then subdued by what they had seen and heard.

 

After Jesus had risen from the dead, they did share their experience. In his letter, St. Peter recalls the event well, asserting that he was an eye witness of Jesus’ majesty, telling his listeners that he heard a voice from heaven, saying, “This is my son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

 

On this date, 61 years ago, the world witnessed another bright light, one that exploded over the city of Hiroshima, Japan at 8:15 in the morning of August 6, 1945. Just as the world has remembered the transfiguration of Jesus for the past 2000 years, the citizens of that city pray that the world will never forget what happened as a day of disfiguration for the people of Hiroshima.  Above their city, there rose a strange gigantic mushroomed shaped cloud but this time no voice was heard saying, “Listen to him.”

 

Unlike the apostles, the survivors that day did not exclaim, “How good it is for us to be here.” When they dared to look up, they didn’t see Jesus. All around them was havoc, destruction and an eerie silence.

 

Survivors of the atomic blast are known as hibakusha. Fifteen years old at the time, one survivor, Michiko Yamaoka was a half mile from the epicenter of the explosion. Badly disfigured by burns, she endured years of discrimination.  Fifty years later at a high school in Maryland, Michiko had this to say, “I am not a scholar or a politician. I have no intention of being drawn into a political debate about whether dropping the bomb was a justifiable act. I only know what I suffered personally, and that is what I will speak about. The children I speak to must know never to repeat the horrors of the past. They are responsible for building the future. As a hibaksusha, it is my duty to inform them.”

 

The atom bombs ended the most savage and costly war ever fought but daily headlines remind us often that the tragedy of war still prevails. The toll of innocent lives killed since the end of World War II should leave us wondering if the lesson of Hiroshima will ever be learned and why after 2000 years we are still reluctant to follow God’s advice and listen to his beloved son.

 

Three years after the bombing of Hiroshima, Fr. Bernard Mullahy of Notre Dame University wrote this profound reflection:

“Once atomic energy had been locked up in the heart of matter, matter was bound to become explosive. Once all the power and light of the Godhead had been put into human life in the incarnation, Christ was bound to be the most explosive and revolutionary character that ever walked the face of the earth. He was bound to start a chain reaction which would extend across all space and time. At baptism a share of the divine energy that radiated from Christ on Mt. Tabor is put into the soul. From then on, the life of the Christian is to radiate the Christ-like. The radiation is the only thing that can save our atomic era.”

 

Like Michiko, I am not a scholar or a politician. I have no intention of being drawn into a political debate on the merit of the present conflict in the Middle East. But Fr. Mullahy’s comments raise a timely challenge for us as do St. Peter’s words of wisdom. Namely, we would do well to be attentive to God’s beloved son and listen to him.

 

On this feast of the Transfiguration in the year 2006, instead of forgetting the disfiguration of August 6, 1945, we must recommit ourselves to the mission that Jesus repeatedly gives us to radiate his love and light in a world that continues to be darkened by the sins of war and violence. In 1981, when visiting Hiroshima, Pope John Paul II said, “War is the work of man. War is the destruction of human life. War is death. To remember the past is to commit oneself to the future. To remember Hiroshima is to abhor nuclear war. To remember Hiroshima is to commit oneself to peace. One must affirm and reaffirm, again and again, that the waging of war is not inevitable or unchangeable. Humanity is not destined to self-destruction.”  His predecessor, Pope Paul VI, once said, “If you want peace, then work for justice.”

 

By our actions, words, and values, we are the light that illuminates rather than blinds the world around us. We are the light that can build up this war torn world of ours. We do that by remembering Jesus isn’t holed up in some distant tent; he lives in our hearts. His constant presence allows us to say wherever we are and in the midst of whatever we are doing, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here!” If we practice forgiveness, kindness, and compassion, we have a glorious future. Strengthened by this Eucharist, may we be Christ like and bring that message of hope to all we encounter.  

 

The Last Supper is often portrayed as the first Mass but one could argue that the scenario in today’s gospel, said to have taken place a year beforehand, is a sneak preview.  When Jesus saw the vast crowd coming toward him, he knew they needed to be fed. Fortunately for them, Andrew found a boy who was willing to sacrifice his five barley loaves and two fish.  After the people had reclined, Jesus offered thanks and then distributed the bread and the fish to them. We are told they had their fill and yet there was enough left over to fill twelve baskets. However you may want to interpret the event, this was quite a miracle story.

 

What we celebrate each time we celebrate the Mass is also a miracle.  The very core of our faith is that our gifts of bread and wine are transformed into the body and blood of Jesus Christ.  That would not be possible had Jesus not totally given of himself on the cross like the lad who gave all that he had.  What we see is bread and what we taste is wine but in fact what we receive is neither bread nor wine. What we have is the real presence of Jesus, which is why you could say the Mass is a modern day miracle that we are privileged to witness every day of the year except on Good Friday.

 

There is no way I can adequately explain the mystery of what happens here at the altar any more than I could explain how Jesus managed to feed five thousand men with only five barley loaves and two fish. The gospel tells us they ate until they had their fill. Did a physical miracle happen that enabled these loaves to literally multiply? Or did the generosity of that lad prompt the others to share what they had? We don’t know but we do know those present were fed. That is Jesus’ goal whenever we come together to celebrate the Mass, but when statistics tell me that the second largest religion in our country is the fallen away Catholic, I have to wonder how many left saying, “I am not being fed!”

 

If Jesus is to feed us, we must first be willing to listen to what he has to say just as the crowd did.  That is why the first part of our worship focuses on scripture with at least three biblical passages, one from the Gospel and two others, usually a psalm and one from the Hebrew Testament.  The lectionary is the Bible arranged not from Genesis to Revelation but from the First Sunday of Advent to the last day of Ordinary Time.  Over the course of three years, nearly the entire Bible is proclaimed here at Mass.  That is why this part of the Mass is called the Liturgy of the Word.

 

The liturgy of the Eucharist begins with the offering of our gifts to God, symbolized by bread and wine. That includes not just what we place in the collection basket, but also the gift of ourselves.  We are here physically but what is our disposition? Are we excited about this opportunity to be one with Jesus in the breaking of the bread? Are we here simply to witness a ritual or to worship God? Is our attitude one of joy much like the joy we have when we see a close friend? Or are we here to simply nibble a host and get on with our daily routine? If Jesus is to feed us, we must follow the example of the crowd and believe that he can. Theirs wasn’t a wait and see skepticism. Rather, they believed that Jesus would feed them. They willingly reclined and they were fed.

 

To the skeptic, the words we hear at the consecration make little sense for they speak of a mystery that cannot be rationally explained, which is why a number of Christians see the eucharist only as a symbolic gesture rather than a true change of substance. Our Catechism points out, “this change is brought about in the eucharistic prayer through the efficacy of the word of Christ and by the action of the Holy Spirit. However, the outward characteristics of bread and wine remain unaltered.”

 

Many Christians, even Catholics who do not understand their faith, have denounced the real presence of Jesus in the eucharist as illogical, superstitious, unbiblical, and even disgusting. After all, why should Jesus’ words to eat his body and drink his blood, which we hear in the prayer of the consecration, be taken literally? If we look at the larger picture, we can see Jesus boldly speaking of himself as being in a unique relationship with God.  As the son of God, what is there to keep him from offering us his body and blood in a new and mysterious manner? After all, this is no longer the same physical body that once walked the hills of Galilee. Instead, his resurrected body, now unlike any other in history, has ascended into heaven.

 

I urge you to read and reflect upon the 6th chapter of John’s gospel to better understand what lies at the core of our Catholic belief on the Eucharist. John provides an in-depth reflection of the meaning of this awesome sacrament, one so precious that even small fragments were gathered up.

 

If you feel as though you aren’t being fed at the Lord’s Table, are you possibly refusing to hear all that Jesus has to say through scripture and the Church? We must not listen selectively; otherwise his message will make little sense. If you are in some way disappointed with Jesus or with his Church, be honest with yourself about the cause of your dissatisfaction. Before saying, “I wasn’t fed,” consider the nature of your hunger and your willingness to let Jesus feed you. After all, unlike the Atkins diet, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, or the South Beach diet, Jesus is offering us something no fad diet can do; the bread of life that promises us everlasting life.