Homilies

If the Lord is my shepherd, am I a sheep? The image of a sheep is not a flattering one yet the bottom line is this; God knows that we need good shepherding to lead us through life. Otherwise, we can easily go astray. At every stage of life, we need direction. A child needs the guidance of a parent, students need the direction of a teacher, employees need the supervision of an employer, citizens need the vision of civic leaders from the White House down to city hall, and parishioners need the spiritual tutelage of good Church leaders from the Holy Father down to their pastors.

 

We have many leaders, but as Jeremiah observes in the first reading, not every shepherd is to be trusted. He quotes God as chastising the leaders of ancient Israel for leading the people astray.  “Woe to the shepherds who scatter the flock of my pasture. You have driven them away.”

 

You may think the message here is archaic but what we hear is a mirror of our times as well.  I think back to my childhood. The Pill hadn’t been invented yet, abortion wasn’t legal, and it was quite all right to pray in school assemblies. I never thought then that in the name of freedom, those shepherds, whom we call justices of the Supreme Court, would define a certain immorally gruesome act as legal and another morally wholesome act as illegal. What price are we paying as a nation when the unborn child is not given the freedom to live and we, the living, aren’t given the freedom to pray in public? We are paying dearly with sexual violence, domestic abuse, alcohol and drug addiction that result in broken families and destroyed lives.

 

God knows this brokenness results from following false shepherds who lead us astray with empty assurances. To Jeremiah, God promised to bring the scattered flocks back to their meadow by raising up a king who would govern wisely.

 

That promise was fulfilled when Jesus arrived on the scene. Calling himself the good shepherd, he could see that many in his midst were “like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.”  In his wake, Jesus left the Church to serve as our spiritual shepherd.

 

After 2000 years, one would expect the world to be in much better shape than it was in the days of ancient Israel but what Jeremiah described then is just as true today.  Sadly not all leaders shepherd well.

 

Which shepherds in our lives do we trust and really listen to? I would like to think that every Christian really listens to the wisdom of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, but that isn’t so. Otherwise, our churches would be overflowing with people following the advice in today’s gospel.  That to me is what Jesus had in mind when he invited his disciples to “come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest.”

 

We live busy lives so Jesus is urging us to get away from the daily events of our lives and take time to rejuvenate our spiritual beings. Taking a break from our daily routine doesn’t mean filling the moment with leisure but finding tranquility and awe in the presence of God through prayer, not just here at Mass but also in solitude as well.

 

Thanks to cell phones, laptops, and the internet, many people find themselves working as the expression goes, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, even when they are not technically at work. That is a guaranteed formula for breakdown. Instead of mimicking the energizer bunny that keeps on going and going and going, we need to take time out to recharge our spiritual and emotional batteries.  We need to get in touch with the core of our being, especially with God who dwells there.

 

Blaise Pascal, a 17th century French philosopher, observed, “All the troubles of life come upon us because we refuse to sit quietly for awhile each day in our rooms.” We need a sanctuary in our lives. Some people find theirs early in the morning with a walk at dawn, in the garden, here at daily Mass, or alone in their bedroom or living room. One woman speaks of lighting a candle at night for 15 minutes and sitting quietly to “keep my sanity.”  Another one prays early in the morning with a cup of coffee before anyone else gets up.

 

One Jesuit offers this bit of advice, “Make your prayer simple, as simple as you can. Reason little, love much, and you will pray well.”

 

However and wherever we find this solitude, it is essential for our faith, just as sleep is for our good health.  If we would regularly make time for prayer and worship, we will find the grace we need to make the right choices for our daily journey.

 

Somewhere I read that a man without prayer is like a tree without roots. By choosing to dwell in the house of the Lord, we will stay on the right path. With God at our side to guide us, we need fear no evil, our faith will remain rooted and we will find ourselves truly rested.

“Alas!” the shepherd replied, “It is not easy to give directions for the forest is criss-crossed by hundreds of paths winding in every direction. They are almost all alike and with one exception, they all lead to the great abyss.”

 

“What is the great abyss?” the traveler asked. “It is the hole which surrounds the forest,” the shepherd replied. “Not only that, the forest is filled with robbers, wild beasts, and an enormous serpent, so scarcely a day goes by when we don’t find the remains of some unfortunate traveler. Still, you can’t get to your destination without passing through the forest, so I am here to direct travelers. I have also placed my sons throughout the forest to also help out.  I am ready to assist you if you so desire.”

The traveler accepted his offer. Holding a lantern with one hand, the shepherd took the traveler’s arm.  They then set out on their journey through the dark forest. When the lamp began to flicker, the traveler expressed his fear that they would soon be walking in darkness. “Don’t be afraid,” the shepherd said, “We will soon meet one of my sons and he can supply us with more oil.”

 

Just then, the traveler noticed a glimmer of light shining through the darkness. At the sound of the shepherd’s well-known voice, the cabin door swung open. The son welcomed them both into his home. After a meal and a chance to rest, the traveler continued on his journey, this time assisted by the shepherd’s son. They continued their journey through the night, stopping at different cabins. Each time, he was given a chance to rest and a new guide to continue his trek. When he arrived at the other side of the forest, the traveler noticed the huge hole.

 

“This,” the guide said, “is the great abyss, which my father spoke about. As he spoke, he heaved a deep sigh. “You seemed grieved,” the traveler replied.

 

“I am,” said the guide. “Every time I look into the abyss, I think of the countless travelers who have fallen into it. In vain, my father and my brothers offer our services. Few accept them and many of those after journeying with us for awhile then accuse us of needlessly alarming them, so they venture on their own. Sooner or later they lose their way and are devoured by the serpent, murdered by robbers, or fall into the abyss. You see, there is only one bridge across the great abyss and we are the only ones who know the way to this bridge. Pass over it with confidence now for the other side is your true home.”

 

To me, this tale suggests why Jesus sent the twelve apostles to preach a message of repentance, urging anyone who would listen to turn their lives around and take on a new direction in life to avoid falling into the great abyss.

 

How safely we navigate through life depends on the values we hold dear. As with anything else in life, we choose certain principles and reject others. From our experience and that of others, we also learn what can spell trouble for us.

 

Your very presence here suggests that you yearn to be a spiritual people, but few of us are as spiritual as we would like to be. Why’s that? Thomas Merton once said that the biggest spiritual problem of our time is efficiency, work and pragmatism; we are so business-like, we have little time and energy for anything else. Because of the choices we make, Fr. Ron Rolheiser observes that “we are more busy than bad, more distracted than non-spiritual, and more interested in the movie theater, the sports stadium, the shopping mall and the fantasy life they produce in us than we are in church.” He cautions that we can’t satisfy our spiritual yearnings so long as other things are more important for us than time with God.

 

We can become like the dog in a large crate on the platform of a railroad station. He was the saddest dog you can imagine. A lady asked about him. “You would be sad, too,” she was told, “if you were in his plight. He’s chewed the tag off his crate and doesn’t know where he’s going!” Do we?

 

That may be why Jesus told his disciples to travel so lightly. While it is not practical for us to literally travel from one place to another with nothing more than a walking stick, we can go through life with much less baggage than we tend to by letting go of that which impedes us from focusing on God, like our prejudices, consumerism, selfishness or even our fears.  Moved by the direction that only Jesus can offer, we should evaluate our priorities and make the changes in our lives that will keep us safely on the right path.

 

Like the apostles, we are being called by the good shepherd to show others the way home to God as well. The notion may seem intimidating but Thomas Merton makes this point, “It is very important to live your faith by confessing it, and one of the best ways to confess it is to preach it.”  Now, you may feel inadequate for that task yet St. Francis de Sales once said, “Whoever preaches with love, preaches effectively.” As the apostles have shown us, it doesn’t take a degree in theology to do that.

I will never forget the card my friend, Sr. Bea, gave me when I graduated from the seminary 21 years ago. The cover featured a monk busily writing on a scroll. Looking up, he says, “Your graduation should be listed among the sacred events in the Bible…” Inside the message continued, “along with the other miracles!”

I suspect most people think of miracles as being magical, unnatural acts. More than once I have seen people near death make a comeback after I had anointed them. As a child, my parents took me to Lourdes, hoping that my hearing could be restored. That didn’t happen, but countless crutches line the wall of the grotto there, testifying to the many miracles that have taken place.

 

Today’s gospel passage features two miracle stories, one sandwiched inside the other, intended to make a strong statement: Jesus has the power to heal. Last week, we saw that he had the power to calm the winds and the sea. The disciples had turned to him in their desperate need. This time, we find a synagogue official and a woman who had been ill for 12 years both turning to Jesus for a miracle.

 

For Jairus, the synagogue official, to seek Jesus out demonstrates that we would go to any extreme to save a person’s life, especially the life of someone whom we love. The child’s life was saved, but we never hear of her again so whatever happened to her? Like Lazarus, she was given a new lease on life, but at some appointed time, she did die. 

 

Regardless of our gender, ethnicity, religious or sexual orientation, income, education, assets, or physical health, some day that too will be our fate. There is an appointed time in the heavens for us to die.  When death happens, some people might try to reason that a person’s death is God’s will, but as the passage from Wisdom points out, “God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living.”  If that line surprised you, go back and read the story of creation. When God made man and woman, he gave them a special participation in his own divine life. In his plan, God created us to be imperishable but, as Wisdom also points out, “by the envy of the devil, death entered the world, and they who belong to his company experience it.”  

 

Some people blame God when death claims the life of a loved one, so out of anger or grief, they turn away from God. I suspect they never realize that they have done just what they devil hoped they would do, distance themselves from God at a time when they need God the most.

 

Fr. John Powell shares the story of a former student who acted as an “atheist in residence” in his theology of faith class. Tommy constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the notion of an unconditionally loving God. At the end of the course as he turned in his exam, he cynically asked, “Do you think I will ever find God?” To shock him, Fr. Powell said, “No.” “Oh,” Tommy replied, “I thought that was the product you were pushing in this class.”  Just as he was about to walk out of the room, Fr. Powell called out, “Tommy, I don’t think you will ever find him, but I’m absolutely certain God will find you!” 

 

A few years later, Tommy came by to see Fr. Powell, who hardly recognized him for he was now terminally ill with lung cancer. His long hair had fallen out due to chemotherapy, but his eyes were bright and his voice firm as he shared his story, telling Fr. Powell that it was a matter of weeks.

 

“What is it like to be only 24 and dying?” “Well, it could be worse,” Tommy said. “Like what?” “Like being 50 and having no values or ideals, like thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real ‘biggies’ in life.”

 

“What I really came to see you about is something you said to me on the last day of class. I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was not all that intense at that time. But when the doctor told me the lump was malignant, I got serious about locating God. I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven but God did not seem to come out.  I decided that I didn’t really care…about God, about an afterlife, or anything like that.

 

“I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I remembered something else you had said: ‘the essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life without ever telling those you loved that you loved them.’ To make a long story short, that is what Tommy did, beginning with his father, his mother, and his little brother. “I was sorry about one thing: that I had waited so long. Here I was, in the shadow of death and I was just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

 

“Then one day, I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with him. Apparently, God does things in his own way and at his own hour. But the important thing is that he was there. He found me. You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for him.”

 

St. Therese of Lisieux tells us that we are saved by God’s love alone. Not when we make God a private possession, a problem solver or an instant consolation in time of need, but when we open ourselves to his love. That, my friends, is a miracle we can all experience. The choice is up to us.

An elderly woman named Maude had a window seat on a big 747 that had just taken off for Rome. She had been saving for years to fulfill her dream to visit the Eternal City. But this was her first flight and she was terrified. Even the stately presence of four bishops sitting behind her didn’t help. With fear and trembling, she peeked out the window just as one of the plane’s engines broke loose from the wing and disappeared into the clouds. “We’re going to die!” she cried out, “We’re going to die!”

 

The pilot then announced that everything was under control and that they could fly back to New York with three engines and land safely. But Maude continued to cry out, “We’re going to die!” A flight attendant finally said to her, “Don’t worry, my dear, God is with us. We have only three engines, but look, we have four bishops.” To which Maude replied, “I’d rather have four engines and three bishops, thank you!”

 

Judging by the crowds at the airport on any given day, fear of flying isn’t common but fear is something we can all relate to.  For me, the most memorable line ever spoken by President Franklin Roosevelt dealt with the reality of fear. In his first inaugural address on March 4, 1933, he said, “Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself…nameless, unreasoning terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”

 

The gospel scene from Mark places us in the midst of a storm on the Sea of Galilee. We find the disciples terrified and for good reason.  These storms could come literally out of the blue with shattering and terrifying suddenness much like tornados do in the Midwest. You might have thought what fools these men were to go out but all was calm when they left the shore to sail to the other side.

 

In this short passage, Mark portrays them as being quite afraid, so much so that they asked Jesus, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”  Perhaps you have asked the same question, presuming your misfortune to be God’s will.  God is omnipotent but God doesn’t decide the events of our lives; they are a byproduct of our free will, either the choices we make or others make.

 

Considering how often some disciples had been on the lake, that must have been one dandy storm.  Still, after quieting the sea, Jesus asked them, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” What an interesting question. “Do you not yet have faith?” Most likely they had faith or at least they thought they had faith. After all, the disciples had been traveling with Jesus for some time and seen a few miracles but if Jesus had to ask that question, maybe what they thought was faith was too shallow to really be faith.

 

The disciples were in danger, all right, but their most dangerous threat wasn’t the weather or a leaky boat. It was the temptation to give up and yield to fear. It was that “nameless, unreasoning terror which paralyzes” that FDR spoke of.  Fear has the potential to incapacitate us. Unless something overrides it, fear short-circuits the system.

 

And what might that something be?  As far as Mark is concerned, Jesus is that something that can free us from whatever fears we have just as he did for the disciples in the midst of that storm.  

 

In the 20 years I have been a priest, I have weathered a fair number of storms and I imagine most couples have done the same in their marriages, be it dealing with the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, a life-changing illness or injury, rejection of some kind, to name but a few.  In any case, you can probably relate to Job in his despair or to the disciples in their fear.  Each time, you somehow reacted to the situation. Did you panic? Or did you pray? And if you prayed, did you feel as though God was responding? More than once, people have lamented that praying seemed so useless. God isn’t answering me!

 

I would tell them, that quite likely God is answering them but not in the way they wanted their prayers to be answered. Prayer is like a conversation and if we are to hear God then we need to be still long enough so that we can hear God. Recall what Jesus said, “Quiet! Be still!”  Too often we do all the talking when we pray.  In times of trouble, the best advice we have is this: Be still and listen to God. With the TV blasting in the background or our ears cabled to iPODs, we aren’t giving ourselves much chance to hear what God has to say. The clatter of our noisy world drowns out God’s quiet whisper but when we take time to quiet down, we will discover for ourselves that God is indeed there.

 

Blessed Mother Theresa of Calcutta once said, “The fruit of silence is prayer, the fruit of prayer is faith.” With faith, no trouble is too much. That is the point Jesus and Job were both making in these readings.  With faith, grounded in prayer, “no storm,” as the refrain to one song puts it, “can shake my inmost calm while to that rock I’m clinging.”

 

Years ago, I was once in a fire, so I can relate to the fear of a young boy when his house was on fire. His father stood on the lawn with outstretched arms, yelling, “Jump, son! I will catch you!” All the boy could see from the second floor was smoke, fire and blackness. Naturally, he was afraid. “Jump!” his father said again. “But, Daddy, I can’t see you.” His father replied, “But I can see you and that is all that matters.” God can see us and that, my friends, is all that matters.

What is culture? That question prompted much discussion at our gathering of priests a few years ago. Our keynote speaker defined culture as a collection of shared ideas that enable us to better understand who we are. We are shaped by the culture we live in. Certainly there is much difference between the culture that shapes America and the countries of the Middle East. You could even argue that here in the Pacific Northwest we have a different outlook on life than those who live in the Midwest or New England.

The first thought that comes to mind when I think of the culture of the Pacific Northwest is what I call radical individualism. Other traits include a respectful religious relationship with nature, suspicion of authority outside of self and a desire to live free from unnecessary social restraints.

 

In the midst of our beautiful outdoors, especially when the mountains are out, as the expression goes, we are inclined to “get away from it all,” and seek peace and God elsewhere.

I would not be surprised one bit if my sister and her husband spend this afternoon sailing out in Puget Sound. Being outdoors whenever possible is the creed for many who live in the Pacific Northwest. 

 

Judging by the drop in attendance at Mass when summer rolls around, I suspect many Catholics practice this creed as well. They excuse themselves from the responsibility and obligation to attend Mass each week, claiming that along with their neighbors, they prefer to find God in nature.

 

That brings to mind a question. Can a Catholic also be an individualist? As Catholics, we belong to another culture, one in which the community is an important trait. Consider this. A brick by itself remains just a brick, but when placed along side other bricks, it has the potential to become a cathedral!

To approach God solely as an individual is to overlook the two key elements stressed in today’s readings; covenant and sacrifice. To ignore either of them is to ignore what being a Catholic is all about.

 

In biblical times, covenants were sealed with sacrifices to symbolize the total commitment of the parties involved to one another. That would then be closed with a meal, symbolizing that the covenant was intended to nurture and protect everyone involved.

 

The passage from Exodus recounts for us how the Israelites entered into a covenant with God at Mt. Sinai, sealing it with a ritual sacrifice. In response, the people all proclaimed, “We will do everything that the Lord has told us.” In return, God provided them with protection, guidance, and freedom from slavery.

 

Shaped by the culture of his times and the tradition of the Jewish Passover, Jesus used the Last Supper to enter into a covenant with his disciples. What he did was unusual in that after he enacted the covenant, he then gave his life on the cross as the ultimate sacrifice to seal this new relationship between God and his followers.

 

Each time we celebrate the Mass, we continue to celebrate the meal Jesus first shared with his disciples. Offered to nourish our spiritual lives, the Eucharist is a reminder that our relationship with God is more than just a friendship. When we receive Holy Communion, we reaffirm our commitment to Jesus Christ and the faith we profess as members of the Catholic community.

 

What makes keeping our end of the agreement difficult for some of us is not only the individualism that colors our culture, but also the fact that few of us really understand what a covenant is. Simply put, a covenant is a binding agreement. Even though God designed marriages to be covenants, many couples treat their marriages as a contract. Just in case their union does not last until death do they part, some couples even sign prenuptial agreements.

 

If the terms of a contract become too inconvenient or are not met, people will find a way to end the relationship. Marriages that are crumbling often end in divorce. Some employers treat their employees in the same way. Gone are the days when a company would retain an employee until retirement. Instead, some employees never know if they will be getting pink slips when they receive their paychecks.

 

In contrast to the me-first mentality of a contract, a covenant is an agreement in which the parties involved agree to share their lives with each other. Jesus shares his life with us in the Eucharist, giving us his body and blood to feed us.  In return, how willing are we to share our lives with him?

 

A covenant is a very close relationship built on love. It was Jesus’ sacrifice, made real for us in the Eucharist that has made this covenant between God and us a reality that has stood the test of time. Do we really care or are we drawn instead to find God elsewhere on our own terms?

 

Fortunately this covenant with God is ours forever. God has no intention of negating this covenant, but if we want to benefit from all that it has to offer, then we have to let go of our inclination for individualism and strive to make the faith community an important part of our lives. When we allow our Catholic faith to be part of the culture that shapes our lives and times, we honor our side of the covenant.