Thursday, January 27, 2022

 Thursday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

(II Samuel 7:18-19.24-29; Mark 4:21-25)

There is an old story about a rabbi quizzing his disciples.  “When does the night end and the day begin?” asks the rabbi.  One disciple answers, “When you can tell the difference between a cow and a coyote on the horizon.”  Another student responds, “When you can distinguish the oak from the apple tree in the meadow.”  The rabbi says that neither disciple has answered correctly.  “Then when is it?” the students demand.   The rabbi answers, “Night ends and day begins when you can look into the eyes of a stranger and see your brother or sister.”  He continues, “If you cannot do that, you are still in the night.”  In today’s gospel Jesus gives a similar lesson.

Jesus is telling his disciples a parable about a lamp.  He says that a lamp is brought into a room to reveal what is hidden.  The disciples will eventually understand that Jesus himself is the lamp.  He reveals to his disciples that they are brothers and sisters not just to one another but to every man and woman. More than that, he enables them to see that they are children of God with an eternal destiny.

The light of Christ makes evident difficult truths like the need to forgive. We put it under a bushel basket when we refuse to allow his words to make us kinder and more patient.  In this way Christ enlightens for us the road to heaven.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Monday of the Fifth Week in Lent

(Daniel 13:1-9.15-17.19-30.33-62; John 8:12-20)

Once a rabbi gathered his disciples round him.  He then asked, “How does one know when night ends and day begins”?  “When you can distinguish between the olive and the fig trees in your garden?” answered one disciple. “No,” the master said, “that is not right.”  Another student tried, “When you can tell the difference between a cow and a dog on the horizon.”  Again the rabbi said, “I am sorry. You don’t have the correct answer either.”  The disciples, a bit frustrated, raised their voices together.  “Tell us,” they said, “when does the night end and the day begin?”  The rabbi replied, “All right, the night ends and the day begins when you can look into a stranger’s eye and see a brother.  Until then, you are walking in darkness.”

In today’s gospel, Jesus presents himself as the light of the world who enables humans to see strangers as sister and brothers.  He commands love for all – friend or foe – so that people may live in solidarity.  He shows himself wiser than Daniel in the first reading who ferrets out the truth to save the innocent Susanna.  Jesus is wiser because he goes beyond justice to reconciliation with one’s enemies.

As Lent winds down, we might take a personal inventory.  Let us ask ourselves if we have grown in love through our Lenten sacrifices.  Do we pray that those who persecute others may reform?  Do we affirm the good in those whom we dislike?  Are we patient with the shortcomings of those with whom we live?  Like the forty-year journey of the Israelites through the desert, the purpose of Lent is to mold us into God’s holy people.  We have arrived at our destination when we love all people from the heart.

Homilette for Monday, October 13, 2008

Monday of the Twenty-eighth Week in Ordinary Time

(Luke 11:29-32)

A story is told about a rabbi who walks through the woods and is accosted by a robber. “Give me the most precious thing you carry,” the thug demands. The rabbi thinks for a moment, then reaches into his bag and pulls out a huge diamond as big as a grapefruit. The robber takes the diamond and flees. Later the same day, however, he returns to the rabbi. He now orders the rabbi, “You better hand over to me the treasure that you have that made giving up the diamond so easy.”

Just as there is no satisfying the robber, there is no pacifying the people in the gospel passage who demand a sign from Jesus. Any further cure or exorcism that he performs would only create the desire to see additional works of wonder. There will never be enough evidence for them to believe that he comes from God because that takes a humble act of faith. That is, they will have to repent of all false desire and begin living God’s justice.

How about us? If you are like me, we both think that we are living pretty good lives. We might give ourselves a “B+” or an “A-” for conduct. But we know that we would do better if we felt absolutely certain that God is in our midst. We too must consider that the Queen of the South and the people of Nineveh may condemn us as well those gathered to hear Jesus in the gospel. After all, God comes to us in word and sacrament in this very Eucharist, and still we only make a ninety percent effort.

Homilette for December 29, 2006

(I John 2)

Perhaps you have heard this story before. Once a rabbi asked his disciples how one knows when the night ends and the day begins. “Is it when you can tell the difference between a coyote and a cow on the horizon?” one disciple responded. “No,” the rabbi said, “not then.” “I know,” another disciple answered. “It’s when you can look over the meadow and distinguish the oak tree from the apple tree.” “No, that’s not it either,” the Rabbi said. “Then when is it?” all the disciples demanded. The rabbi spoke very deliberately: “The day begins when you can look into the eyes of a stranger and see your brother or sister. If you cannot do that, you are still in the night.”

St. John in the section of his first letter which we read today says very nearly the same thing. He admonishes his readers: “Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother, is still in darkness. Whoever loves his brother remains in the light, and there is nothing in him to cause a fall.” Of course, the same applies to women: whoever says she is in the light and hates her brother or sister, is still in darkness.” For different sociological reasons men may have a larger share of the night. But darkness is no one gender’s exclusive domain. Plenty of women as well as men need to open their eyes to the day.