Homilies

“After the Sabbath, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake.” We don’t think of earthquakes too often for most of them go unnoticed. Two minor earthquakes happened yesterday not far from here but did you notice them? When big ones happen, they are unforgettable. I was in San Francisco for that big one in 1989. We had our last big one, the Nisqually Quake, on Ash Wednesday, 2001.

What can be said about earthquakes can be said about Easter. The first one was a seismic event that shook the world. Mary and her companion must have been scared but the angel told them not to be afraid. Fearful yet overjoyed they ran to tell the disciples. On the way Jesus met them and also said, “Do not be afraid!”

Hopefully we are not afraid, but this year we are celebrating Easter differently. Like the disciples, we are celebrating the resurrection alone, in the silence of our homes instead of in our church, praying and hoping that our faith outweighs what fears we have, mindful also of Jesus’ first words spoken upon rising from the dead, “Do not be afraid!”

My friends, wherever you are, this Easter is like no other. Christians around the world have gathered to celebrate this feast time and time again, but this Easter stands apart as one that will not go by unnoticed or be forgotten.

Alas, we aren’t being allowed to celebrate Easter together but we can still proclaim with our lives our joy in the hope of rebirth. The numbers of those suffering from the corona virus are staggering and we keep them all in our prayers.  No one, however, need suffer from the loss of our Easter joy for no pandemic can destroy Easter.

The celebration of Easter stands in stark contrast to our commemoration of Good Friday.  That day, there were no flowers or alleluias.  Instead, there was the bare cross. 

Yet, both Good Friday and Easter, along with Holy Thursday, are bound together into one celebration, the celebration of the Paschal Mystery.  The name paschal refers to the lamb, Jesus, who was sacrificed and whose sacrifice brought life.

As you and I both know, God is the source of life, both physically and spiritually. Without God, without a spiritual life, mankind’s existence is limited to the here and now. No eternity. When life ends, that is the finale.

But that first Easter morning changed all that. Jesus’ death was God’s means of restoring life to our brothers and sisters, to us. Jesus rose from the dead and became the source of spiritual life to all who believe in him. That is why we call out, “Alleluia!” We are dead no more. No longer afraid, we are alive in the Lord. The sign of our acceptance of this tenet will happen shortly when we renew our baptismal promises.

What about those who have never been baptized? What happened to the just Jew or the spiritual Hindu? Or the moral humanitarian agnostic or atheist; some whom we number among our friends and relatives? Do they have a future after death? In our intercessions on Good Friday, we prayed for them, keeping in mind that by descending into hell during his time in the tomb Jesus was calling forth all those who desired to do what was right and just, people of good will, who by choosing to do good were choosing to be in union with God, no matter what notion of God they had. We call this baptism by desire.

Our parish is small yet our parish family is much like any other parish. I haven’t heard of anyone being ill with the coronavirus but some are in pain, due to an illness or injury. Some are struggling with being homebound. There are some whose marriages or families have fallen apart or are on hard times; I am concerned about children who have lost the safe haven that their schools provided. Despite the unique circumstances we find ourselves in, I pray that you will find what St. Augustine called happiness in hope, which the joy of Easter offers us. He used that phrase, “happiness in hope” in his writings to describe the Christian attitude in life. He noted that society can only provide lasting happiness if it is united to God.

As followers of Christ, we have to do our share to bring peace and justice to the world, beginning within our homes. We cannot turn our backs on people who are suffering.  We have to insist or at least pray that those in leadership use their authority justly and yet, we know that in the end, society alone cannot provide lasting happiness for anyone. 

We Christians have as our happiness the hope of eternal life.  Easter is the celebration of that hope.  Our hope is that we will share in the fullness of the New Life Jesus won for us through His suffering and death. It is also our hope in Christ that helps us endure challenges like the corona virus.

Christ was raised so we can share His New Life. This hope is the Gift that he offers us on Easter!  May this day be like that of a big earthquake, one that you will recall for years to come. May the life of the Risen Lord flow through our veins, so that every thought, word and deed of our livesmay shout out: Do not be afraid! Jesus Lives! Alleluia!

This Good Friday is unlike any we have ever experienced. Not being able to gather as a congregation to commemorate the passion of Jesus leaves many of you standing like witnesses on the hillside watching the drama from afar. This day was one of great suffering, betrayal, rejection and sadness. However much you may have suffered or been inconvenienced during this quarantine, literally or figuratively, your suffering pales in contrast to what Jesus endured that day. As Isaiah suggests, we do not carry our suffering alone. He tells us, “it was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured, while we thought of him as stricken, as one smitten by God and afflicted.”

We cannot think of Good Friday without thinking of the suffering that is going on around the world and in our midst. The daily headlines remind us of the impact of the covid-19 virus, not only those filling many hospital beds or dying from this illness, but also the many who are either unemployed or underemployed. Families and friends mourning the loss of a loved one, have to do so without the usual funeral.

How vulnerable we feel during this time, keeping our distance, wearing masks in public, refraining from our usual social endeavors so that we can all stay healthy. 

In a recent timely interview when asked about the covid-19 virus, Pope Francis said, “It’s not easy to be confined to your house…Take care of yourselves for a future that will come. And remembering in that future what has happened will do you good. Take care of thenow, for the sake of tomorrow. Always creatively, with a simple creativity, capable of inventing something new each day. Inside the home that’s not hard to discover, but don’t run away, don’t take refuge in escapism, which in this time is of no use to you.”

Imagine how vulnerable Jesus was on the cross, having just endured a gruesome torture, beyond any we can imagine. He really suffered. Don’t fictionalize this event; don’t imagine that he felt pain less than we do. If anything, he suffered more intensely than you and I ever have or ever will.

We will soon gaze upon the wood of the cross. In doing so, we can be stuck in the grief, in the pain, in the shame that is part of our story. But we know how this drama ends. We gather today, not to mourn the death of Jesus but to rejoice that death did not have the final say. We are resurrection people and we know that Easter will soon dawn.

Thus we venerate the cross, not as a symbol of torture but as a symbol of Jesus’ victory over death, over pain, over grief, over addiction, over shame. Sin has been conquered. The forces of hatred prevailed for a day but the real victory of the cross belongs to the ages. 

This Friday is called good because we know sin no longer controls our lives. Moved by the example of his self-giving love, we can find new life and meaning in whatever suffering we encounter, knowing that suffering is a human experience God can fully relate to. Jesus died and then rose from the dead so that we could live differently, knowing that our lives are no longer controlled by sin and evil.

As we gaze upon the cross, let us be reminded once again by his example of love and his command to follow his example. May the cross empower us with renewed faith to face whatever suffering we encounter and respond with love, patience and compassion, especially in the weeks ahead. Without denying our grief or anger over unexplained or untimely suffering, be assured that God is walking with us in our pain every step of the way.

This Lenten season has been one few of us will ever forget. We never imagine on Ash Wednesday that we would be giving up gathering as a faith community within the walls of our church to celebrate the Eucharist. Nor did we imagine that on this day, we would not wave palms, much less take any home. In the midst of this quarantine imposed on us by the covid-19 virus, we are venturing into a rather unusual Holy week.

Had we been able to gather together, we would have heard before Mass started the gospel passage proclaiming Jesus’ regal entrance into the city of Jerusalem, riding on a colt amid shouts of joy from the onlookers. How euphoric that was for everyone involved.

Jesus was welcomed as a hero who would lead his fellow Jews into battle and defeat their enemies. For the people of biblical Jerusalem, that meant the Romans. They anticipated that their Messiah would establish a kingdom of peace and justice. Because the Messiah was to be a descendant of King David, the great warrior king of the Old Testament, Jesus was called “Son of David.”

As Jesus entered the city, the crowds cried out, “Hosanna!” This exclamation means “Lord, save us!” Because the Jews believed the Messiah deserved the red carpet treatment, Jesus was greeted with palms and cloaks thrown on the ground as he rode through the city. By their words and actions, the people of Jerusalem proclaimed Jesus as their long awaited Messiah.

Jesus accepted the honor but as he had often revealed in his teachings, the Messiah would not be a military hero but a humble servant of God who would conquer sin and death by dying on the cross.

Thus, the cheers of the crowds soon turned to jeers. When Jesus failed to be the messiah whom they anticipated, the citizens of Jerusalem demanded, “Let him be crucified!” What a radical change, going from a hero’s welcome to a humiliating barbaric painful execution.

To an outsider, such betrayal may have made sense. Jesus was in the opinion of some a self-proclaimed eccentric who got the fate he deserved. To his followers, however, what happened epitomized all that he had taught them during their time together. To love God means to surrender oneself to the will of God. What better way could the teacher drive home this crucial message than by his own example?

Jesus emptied himself to demonstrate the total surrender of his personal interests to God. That didn’t come easy for even on the cross he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Still, Jesus knew he had no choice. To place his interests first would mean being unfaithful to his mission, the one voiced by those who pleaded, “Hosanna! Save us!”

The last thing Jesus could ever do was betray his Father.

Matthew’s narrative of the passion opened with Judas opting to betray Jesus. He asked the chief priests, “What are you willing to give me if I hand him over to you?” But Judas was not alone. Many others betrayed Jesus; the crowds, the chief priests, even his disciples. They weren’t the first nor would they be the last. Adam and Eve were the first to betray God and by our own sinfulness, we have done the same.

Betrayal means surrendering to the enemy. In this case, think of God’s number enemy, namely Satan. Betrayal describes the motives behind Judas, Peter, Pilate, the chief priests and nearly everyone else in the Passion story. They were no longer faithful to God, opting instead for what they wanted, choosing to be selfish rather than loving, putting their self-interests ahead of what God was asking of them.

How often have we made choices based on what we wanted without considering the costs beforehand if our choices put us at odds with what God is asking of us?

Last week, I received this prayer from a friend in Salt Lake City that I want to pass on to you for this Holy Week when we are being asked to stay home so we can keep healthy.

May we who are merely inconvenienced, remember those whose lives are at stake. May we who have no risk factors, remember those who are most vulnerable.

May we who have the luxury of working from home, remember those who must choose between preserving their health or making their rent. May we who have the flexibility to care for our children when their schools are closed, remember those who have no such option.

May we who have to cancel trips, remember those who have no safe place to go. May we who are losing our margin money in the tumult of the economic market, remember those who have no margin at all.

May we who settle in for a quarantine at home, remember those who have no home. As fear grips our country, let us choose love.

During this time when we cannot physically wrap our arms around each other, let us find ways to be the loving embrace of God to our neighbors.

Amen.

The first funeral Mass I ever attended was for my father. I was seventeen when he died unexpectedly that Monday morning from a heart attack. I still recall the moment when the phone call came from the hospital that he had died.

That morning, in the fall of 1966, I dealt with death unlike ever before. Dad would not be home for dinner that night or ever again. Slowly the news sank in. I imagined that he had left that day on another trip with a one-way ticket, not into oblivion but to eternal life.

I was accustomed to saying good-bye to Dad. As an army officer, he had been away from home more than once for months at a time. His last overseas trip had been to Korea the year before. He hadn’t even been home ten months when he died.

During that time he was in Korea, the Mass began to change. The altar was turned around and slowly Latin was being replaced with English lines. I wasn’t too surprised to see Dad go to Mass with us on his first Sunday home. I thought he was curious to see how the Mass had changed.

At communion time, he stood alongside me in the aisle to let my mother and siblings pass by, then he followed them up to receive communion. I walked behind him, thinking to myself, “Hey, Dad, the Mass has changed but you still gotta be Catholic to go to communion!” Imagine the scene of joy after Mass when my mother learned what my father had done. Her prayer of 20 years had been answered at last for Dad became Catholic shortly before coming home from Korea.

These memories come to mind because this was the gospel we heard at his funeral. I don’t recall hearing much about Martha, Mary or Lazarus in the homily, but I do remember hearing the words, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” I heard these words in a new light. The change I saw in my father’s faith during the last months of his life impressed me enough that I had no doubt he found eternal life. John uses the miracle of Lazarus to teach us that in Jesus Christ, our souls will find eternal life.

Sooner or later, death will be our common experience. If Jesus’ reaction to the death of Lazarus is any indication, God takes no delight in this milestone we will all encounter but rejoices at what could follow and hopefully we will too as the last bit of life ebbs from us. We won’t be in control of our bodies then but we are in control of our destiny.

At death’s door we may feel utterly helpless as we are about to venture into the unknown but we need not be afraid for death is not the end of our existence. Just as he raised up Lazarus from the dead, Jesus will raise our mortal bodies someday as well if we want to spent eternity with him.

This is what Jesus has done for every person who has gone before us marked with faith. In one funeral preface, we hear the lines, “Indeed for your faithful, Lord, life is changed not ended, and, when this earthly dwelling turns to dust, an eternal dwelling is made ready for them in heaven.” However much we may grieve the loss of a loved one here and now, we are hopeful that they have moved onto a better place that will surpass our wildest expectations.

On Friday, Pope Francis said, “Faith begins when we realize we are in need of salvation. We are not self-sufficient; by ourselves we flounder: we need the Lord, like ancient navigators needed the stars. Let us invite Jesus into the boats of our lives. Let us hand over our fears to him so that he can conquer them. Because this is God’s strength: turning to the good everything that happens to us, even the bad things. He brings serenity into our storms, because with God life never dies.”

Shortly before he died, Cardinal Bernadin of Chicago described his bout with terminal cancer in this way, “To paraphrase Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities,‘It has been the best of times, it has been the worst of times.’ The worst because of the humiliation, physical pain, anxiety and fear. The best because of the reconciliation, love, pastoral sensitivity and peace that have resulted from God’s grace and the support and prayers of so many people.”

Hopefully, the cardinal speaks for anyone who is now ill. How unnerving it has been for us in recent weeks and will be for weeks to come with the coronavirus pandemic. As of now, more people have become ill with this bug in America than in any other country. How long must we deal with this situation is anyone’s guess but my daily prayer is that no one in our parish will become ill much less die from this disease.

While for the sake of your health, we cannot gather as a faith community, let’s remain upbeat knowing that God is with us through prayer and scripture. As Paul points out, “If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the One who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through his Spirit dwelling in you.”

We need not fear the moment when death arrives for that moment will bring us to the best of times whenever it comes. We will be reunited with loved ones who have gone before us marked with faith and unbounded by our earthly restraints, we will be free at last to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength.

This lengthy gospel opened with the question, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” So often whenever something is amiss, we wonder, as did the disciples, “Who is to blame for this?”

In the midst of the current coronavirus pandemic, some might also wonder, “Is the world going to hell in a hen-basket?” If so, how apt are we to blame someone for this? Like the Pharisees in today’s gospel, we thrive on blaming someone else for our misfortunes and tragedies.

In response to the disciples’ question, Jesus points out that no one is to blame for the man’s blindness. He went on to say that the man was born blind so that the works of God might be made visible through him. Blame doesn’t have any place in God’s design of things. Instead, Jesus challenges us to discern the light of God in the midst of our darkness.

Before Jesus walked into his life, the blind man was likely filled with despair over his misfortune, blaming God or his parents for his handicap. That was a common belief in biblical times. We witness him going from non-belief to belief in Jesus, while those who could see plunge into even greater darkness, missing the awesome message of this miracle that in the midst of this person’s misfortune God is there.

Claiming to know what is right and what is wrong, the Pharisees discredit Jesus, judging him a sinner for “working” on the Sabbath. At the end of this gospel, Jesus criticized them since their “holier than thou” attitude prevented them from seeing the truth. For Jesus, everything, even the greatest tragedy, can be an occasion in which God’s works can be seen if we seek resurrection rather than reproach. He hints that the Pharisees are sinful because their self-assurance blinded them from recognizing who Jesus is.

Like eyes often do with cataracts, our spiritual and moral vision can slowly and unknowingly become clouded. Ask the elderly and they will tell you that the dimming of their eyesight was so gradual that they didn’t realize what was happening to them. Likewise, the shift in our spiritual vision can be so gradual that we may fail to see the sin in our lives or appreciate the beauty of our Catholic faith in its fullness.

In the midst of this trying time when the good majority of you cannot attend Mass due to the quarantine imposed by the coronavirus pandemic, we must not forget St. Paul’s message that we are “now light in the Lord” so we should live as children of the light. We should see the world as God does with care and compassion for those who are suffering, for the light of Christ produces every kind of goodness.

To see well, good eyesight alone is not sufficient. Blindness doesn’t affect only our eyes. There are many forms of blindness beside physical blindness. In some ways these forms of figurative blindness may be even more crippling.

For example, selfishness blinds us to the needs of others. Insensitivity blinds us to the hurt we’re causing to others. Snobbery blinds us to the equal dignity of others. Pride blinds us to our own faults. Prejudice blinds us to the truth. Hurry blinds us to the beauty of God’s creation. Materialism blinds us to spiritual values. Superficiality blinds us to the person’s true worth causing us to judge by appearances.

The gospel isn’t just about a certain blind man who lived ages ago whom Jesus healed; it is really about how blind we can be. The good news is that we can be cured of our “blindness.” Rather than play the blame game when things go wrong, we should focus instead on how we can find Christ continually in every moment of our lives and likewise help others to do the same. We must never lose sight that God is at work through us, even in places and at times when we think he could not be.

It is not only with our eyes that we see. We also see with the mind, the heart and the imagination. A narrow mind, a small heart, and/or an impoverished imagination like that of the Pharisees can lead us to loss of spiritual vision, darken our lives, and shrink our world. As I said moments ago, we often judge others by appearances but God told Samuel, not as man sees does God see for the Lord looks into the heart.

It has been said that the greatest tragedy is not to be born blind, but to have eyes and yet fail to see. Or worst yet, to have eyes and refuse to see. That was the situation for the Pharisees, which frustrated Jesus no end, prompting him to point out that unlike them, once the blind man could see with his heart, he could then see Jesus as Lord and worship him while they could not.

In a sense we are all born blind. As we go through life our eyes gradually open to the light of Christ. He touches our eyes so that we can see the world as he sees.

In the midst of this health crisis when we are being urged to be more caring, considerate and compassionate, we need to be willing to see things differently. Lets not panic or become irrational. Lets not give up on our faith in Christ and his care for us either. The most important vision one can have is that of faith. The smallest child with eyes of faith sees more than the smartest scientist who has none. In the days ahead, A good prayer for the remaining days of Lent would be to ask God to help us see Christ more clearly, love Christ more dearly, and follow more Christ more nearly.