Homilette for Thursday, September 25, 2008

Thursday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time

(Ecclesiastes 1:2-11)

Over a generation ago physicist Steven Weinberg wrote, "The more the universe seems comprehensible, the more it also seems pointless." He meant that from all that scientists have learned, it seems that human knowledge will become extinct while the universe will stretch endlessly through time. Weinberg seems akin to Qoheleth, the author of the Book of Ecclesiastes whom we hear in the first reading today. At least, both caution against optimism about the future whether we are look for an indomitable human achievement or for human heroes who will transcend time.

Qoheleth is really not a curmudgeon. When he writes that “all is vanity,” he does not mean that human effort is useless and human joy will inevitably sour. His use of “vanity” only indicates that people should not place their hopes in new ideas which are not likely to improve their lot. He observes that there have been innovations before, yet humanity goes on with just about the same mix of good and bad as always. Unfortunately, Qoheleth never encountered Christ. If he had, he should have discovered the one exception to his rule. Jesus is one person whose memory the ages cannot erase. Indeed, his revelation – what he calls “new wine for new wineskins” – brings humanity the realization of a completely new possibility.

Although to some it may seem narrow-minded and self-serving, we Christians, like Qoheleth, hold that after Christ the windows of revelation have been fused shut. True, we keep on discovering new implications of Christ’s teaching, but we deny the possibility of a new wisdom that will bring us closer to the divine. We find it peculiar how some embrace New Age rites or even ancient world religions. No doubt, there are aspects in these approaches to life that would be profitable to know. But for the most part we will find them elements of Christian belief that have been neglected over the years.

Homilette for Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Wednesday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time

(Luke 9:1-6)

As a training exercise, a group of Peace Corps Volunteers were once left individually in villages not far from their training center around noon on Sunday. The volunteers were provided with little more than carfare back to the center. When the volunteers regrouped that evening, most of them told stories of gracious hospitality. In almost every case villagers invited them into their homes for dinner and a few even drove the volunteers back to the training center.

In today’s gospel Jesus’ apostles are sent out in a not too dissimilar way. They, however, are not to bring anything with them “just in case.” Rather, they are to depend completely on Providence working through the townspeople they encounter. Of course, they will offer to the people release from demons, cures of diseases, and the good news of God’s kingdom, but these blessings are not meant as ways to finagle hospitality or to reward it. Rather, they represent God’s favor upon those who accept His grace. Indeed, Jesus indicates that some villagers will likely shut their doors in his apostles’ faces.

The dependency of the apostles upon Providence thrills our consciences like a bugle call. Today in our society most people, including church workers, strive to avert risks. The credit card has long served as a way never to be caught without money. With cellular telephones in emergencies help is only a few pushed buttons away. Other resources like generous insurance policies protect against catastrophic situations. Although these privileges are often defended as prudential, they may leave us with the question: What does it mean today to trust in God’s Providence if we avoid all risks?

Homilette for Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Memorial of Saint Pio of Pietrelcina, priest

(Luke 8:19-21)

We still tell the parents of a bride and groom that they are not losing a child but gaining one. In the gospel today Jesus indicates that his mother is not losing a son but gaining a host of children.

At first reading, it may appear that Jesus is distancing himself from Mary. He says rather brusquely that his mother and brother “are those who hear the word of God and act on it.” But recalling the beginning of Luke’s gospel, we remember how Mary is the first to do just that. She willingly accepts the angel’s message that she is to be the mother of the Savior. Likewise, she makes haste to visit her kinswoman Elizabeth when the angel mentions the latter’s miraculous pregnancy.

Still the thrust of this passage is not so much Mary’s being named the mother of Jesus as we being designated his brothers and sisters. We should note that the relationship is not attributed to everyone. No, to qualify as a member of Jesus’ family we must, like Mary, listen to the word of God with our hearts and act on it with our lives.

Homilette for Monday, September 22, 2008

Monday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time

(Luke 8:16-18)

In the 1950s and 1960s civil rights activists sang, “This little light of mine of mine, I’m going to let it shine.” They saw themselves as small beams of light in the ongoing struggle with the darkness of racial bigotry and prejudice. The song, written in the early part of the last century, recalls Jesus’ words of the gospel today.

Jesus wants his disciples to understand that they were chosen to reflect the light of God’s grace. Christianity is not a private religion in the sense that Jesus’ followers might pray on Sunday and be indifferent to their neighbors on Monday. Quite the contrary, Christian prayer must lead to exemplary behavior.

There is a story about a Quaker prayer meeting once attended by a non-member. As their habit, the Quakers were sitting in quiet meditation which discomforted the guest. The guest turned to the Quaker sitting at his side and whispered, “When does the service begin?” The Quaker responded, “The service begins as soon as the prayer ends!”

Homilette for Friday, September 19, 2008

Friday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

(Luke 8:1-3)

A famous painting by the French master Georges de La Tour hangs in the National Gallery in Washington, D.C. It shows a loosely-clad woman sitting in front of a looking glass in meditative stupor. She is fingering a skull, which sits in front of, and almost blocks from view, a burning candle. “What’s the point of it all?” she seems to ask herself as she contemplates life and death, herself and Christ, the light.

The painting is called “The Repentant Magdalene” which is probably a misnomer. That title reflects a popular but unfounded belief that Mary Magdalene was a reformed prostitute. Preachers through the ages have concluded that Mary Magdalene, mentioned for the first time in Luke’s gospel today, is “the sinful woman” who bathed Jesus’ feet with her tears of yesterday’s gospel passage. But today’s gospel only identifies her as the woman “from whom seven demons had gone out.” Demon possession in the New Testament is associated with sickness and hysteria, not moral depravity. Mary Magdalene’s relation to the woman of the previous chapter is likely one of inclusion. The evangelist Luke includes the story of the women accompanying Jesus following that of “the sinful woman” to indicate how Jesus attracted different kinds of women as well as men to himself.

But certainly the questions that La Tour’s Magdalene seems to ask are likewise inclusive of all humanity as well. What’s the point of it all? Is our destiny just dry bones that will whither completely in time? Or is Jesus the fire who enlightens our minds today and will empower our resurrection from the dead tomorrow? We Christians know the answers to these questions. Our task is to live their implications in our everyday lives.