Memorial of the Guardian Angels
(Matthew 18:1-5;10)
We should not understand Jesus to mean that only children have guardian angels. His vision is more inclusive than that. What we have just heard is the beginning and ending of a longer passage in which Jesus issues a warning to his disciples. They are to look after weak Christians who may stray from practicing the faith. When these Christians stop praying or when they choose pleasure over doing God’s will, the disciples are to step in. If they don’t, Jesus makes clear, the disciples face dire consequences since the weak Christians have angels in direct communication with God.
Although we may console ourselves with the thought of having guardian angels to look after our welfare, we should as well hear Jesus’ warning. We who come to daily Mass are often the strong ones who must assist weaker Christians. This does not mean that we nag them but that we show them our care. We can share with them our faith in God as the one who provides full happiness. We can tell them of our concern that they too experience God’s love. We can model for them the joy of living the Gospel. Finally, we can pray for them not just once in a while but daily.
Homilette for Monday, October 1, 2007
Monday of the XXVI Week of Ordinary Time, Memorial of St. Therese of Lisieux
(Luke 9:46-50)
What is it about children that makes them like Jesus? It is hard to tell these days because childhood has changed so much. No doubt, it was different again in Jesus’ day, but there is something residual -- existent in the first century; prominent between 1850 and 1950 when, according to social commentator Neil Postman, childhood reached its acme; and still perceptible today. Children follow the directives of their parents confident that parents have their good in mind. Jesus trusted his Father just so; many adults do not.
True, we adults have the considerable task of discerning what God wants of us. But perhaps more problematic is our ego’s attempt to visualize God’s will according to its own designs. One commentator has called “the dark night of the soul” precisely releasing “our ego’s hold on the psyche” to allow for a change in our lives which will bring about a new way of understanding our relationship with God. It is the painful process of fidelity through questioning and near desperation that ends in our awareness of being God’s children doing what He tells us, confident of His love.
Although St. Therese of Lisieux enjoyed many years of religious enthusiasm, she too underwent the dreaded “dark night.” In it she evidently doubted what was to become of her after death. Yet she did not divert her attention from the Lord but faithfully lived out her vocation. Now we know that Mother Teresa of Calcutta also had a difficult trial of faith. She also did not waver in fidelity. We want to follow these little giants by continuing on the way we have chosen even when our minds turn overcast with questions.
(Luke 9:46-50)
What is it about children that makes them like Jesus? It is hard to tell these days because childhood has changed so much. No doubt, it was different again in Jesus’ day, but there is something residual -- existent in the first century; prominent between 1850 and 1950 when, according to social commentator Neil Postman, childhood reached its acme; and still perceptible today. Children follow the directives of their parents confident that parents have their good in mind. Jesus trusted his Father just so; many adults do not.
True, we adults have the considerable task of discerning what God wants of us. But perhaps more problematic is our ego’s attempt to visualize God’s will according to its own designs. One commentator has called “the dark night of the soul” precisely releasing “our ego’s hold on the psyche” to allow for a change in our lives which will bring about a new way of understanding our relationship with God. It is the painful process of fidelity through questioning and near desperation that ends in our awareness of being God’s children doing what He tells us, confident of His love.
Although St. Therese of Lisieux enjoyed many years of religious enthusiasm, she too underwent the dreaded “dark night.” In it she evidently doubted what was to become of her after death. Yet she did not divert her attention from the Lord but faithfully lived out her vocation. Now we know that Mother Teresa of Calcutta also had a difficult trial of faith. She also did not waver in fidelity. We want to follow these little giants by continuing on the way we have chosen even when our minds turn overcast with questions.
Homilette for Friday, September 28, 2007
Friday, XXV Week of Ordinary Time
(Luke 9:18-22)
Do we really mean what when we say in the “Our Father,” “Thy will be done”? Sure, as long as that will is peace in the world and bread on the table, we want it. But how about when that will includes suffering and death, are we still open to it? In the gospel today Jesus does not shirk from accepting God’s will, no matter the costs.
Jesus is praying. Such a posture in Luke signals a significant event about to take place. He asks his apostles what the people think of him. They respond, “John the Baptist,” an Elijah figure; “Elijah” himself, who was to reappear before the coming of the Christ (Messiah); or “one of the ancient prophets” in the role of Elijah. Jesus in the eye of the public, then, is the forerunner of who he really is.
Then Jesus asks the apostles their own opinion. After witnessing his exorcisms and cures as well as his transfiguration, Peter can reply without reservation. For the apostles Jesus is the Christ who has come to establish God’s kingdom on earth. This is good news, of course, but there is a tragic underside. In the process Jesus will suffer greatly and be killed. There is no way to avoid this destiny. It “must” happen because it is God’s will.
When we face serious troubles in our lives that seem encompass God’s will we should recall Jesus’ conformity to that will in this gospel. He does not whine, much less despair. Knowing that God’s will is ultimately in our favor, Jesus seems only to pray with more confidence, “Thy will be done.”
(Luke 9:18-22)
Do we really mean what when we say in the “Our Father,” “Thy will be done”? Sure, as long as that will is peace in the world and bread on the table, we want it. But how about when that will includes suffering and death, are we still open to it? In the gospel today Jesus does not shirk from accepting God’s will, no matter the costs.
Jesus is praying. Such a posture in Luke signals a significant event about to take place. He asks his apostles what the people think of him. They respond, “John the Baptist,” an Elijah figure; “Elijah” himself, who was to reappear before the coming of the Christ (Messiah); or “one of the ancient prophets” in the role of Elijah. Jesus in the eye of the public, then, is the forerunner of who he really is.
Then Jesus asks the apostles their own opinion. After witnessing his exorcisms and cures as well as his transfiguration, Peter can reply without reservation. For the apostles Jesus is the Christ who has come to establish God’s kingdom on earth. This is good news, of course, but there is a tragic underside. In the process Jesus will suffer greatly and be killed. There is no way to avoid this destiny. It “must” happen because it is God’s will.
When we face serious troubles in our lives that seem encompass God’s will we should recall Jesus’ conformity to that will in this gospel. He does not whine, much less despair. Knowing that God’s will is ultimately in our favor, Jesus seems only to pray with more confidence, “Thy will be done.”
Homilette for Thursday, September 27, 2007
Thursday, XXV Week of Ordinary Time, Commemoration of St. Vincent de Paul
(Haggai 1)
Ten years ago when the Archdiocese of Los Angeles was building its new cathedral, lay Catholics working with the very poor protested the construction. With prophetic boldness they claimed that its cost of $300 million was a needless extravagance. Confident that the Archdiocese was doing what it could to help the poor, Cardinal Mahoney proceeded with the project.
We hear of a similar tug-a-war between spending on social needs and constructing a monument to God in the reading from the prophet Haggai today. In this case, the prophet takes the side of construction. God should receive glory, he intimates, so that everyone may keep priorities in right order. Construction in such a case often has measurable social benefit. In the presence of great institutions, people produce more in order to maintain their environment.
Today we remember one of the greatest organizers on behalf of both the poor and the institutional Church. St. Vincent de Paul would tell the congregation of sisters he founded that it was quite all right for them to leave prayers to attend to the needs of the poor. He insisted that it is just going from Christ to Christ. He also championed the Church in opposition to the Jansenist heresy which limits the efficacy of grace. The Congregation of Missions, the order of priests St. Vincent founded, has also aided the Church by distinguishing itself in seminary education.
(Haggai 1)
Ten years ago when the Archdiocese of Los Angeles was building its new cathedral, lay Catholics working with the very poor protested the construction. With prophetic boldness they claimed that its cost of $300 million was a needless extravagance. Confident that the Archdiocese was doing what it could to help the poor, Cardinal Mahoney proceeded with the project.
We hear of a similar tug-a-war between spending on social needs and constructing a monument to God in the reading from the prophet Haggai today. In this case, the prophet takes the side of construction. God should receive glory, he intimates, so that everyone may keep priorities in right order. Construction in such a case often has measurable social benefit. In the presence of great institutions, people produce more in order to maintain their environment.
Today we remember one of the greatest organizers on behalf of both the poor and the institutional Church. St. Vincent de Paul would tell the congregation of sisters he founded that it was quite all right for them to leave prayers to attend to the needs of the poor. He insisted that it is just going from Christ to Christ. He also championed the Church in opposition to the Jansenist heresy which limits the efficacy of grace. The Congregation of Missions, the order of priests St. Vincent founded, has also aided the Church by distinguishing itself in seminary education.
Homilette for Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Wednesday, XXV Week of Ordinary Time
(Luke 9)
A group of Peace Corps Volunteer trainees were once left individually in villages surrounding a city in Malaysia. The trainers provided the volunteers with little more than carfare back to the training center. It was a Sunday afternoon around midday so most of the villagers were at home preparing to eat. That evening when the volunteers regrouped, most of them told stories of gracious hospitality. The people of the villages invited them to their homes for dinner and often drove the volunteers back to the center.
In today’s gospel Jesus sends his apostles out in a similar way. They, however, are to bring nothing with them “just in case.” Rather, they are to depend completely on Providence working through the townspeople they encounter. Of course, they have something for the people – release from demons, cures of diseases, and the good news of God’s kingdom. Like the Peace Corps volunteers they will share stories of success.
The dependency of the apostles upon Providence thrills our consciences like a bugle call. Today in our society most people – and certainly church workers – strive to avert risks. The credit card has long served as a way never to be caught without money. Now, of course, with the cellular telephone help is always only a few pushed buttons away. Of course, we have compiled many more resources – generous insurance policies, for example – that meet most every contingency. We may defend this coverage as prudential, but at the same time we wonder if they eliminate an essential element of Jesus’ apostleship.
(Luke 9)
A group of Peace Corps Volunteer trainees were once left individually in villages surrounding a city in Malaysia. The trainers provided the volunteers with little more than carfare back to the training center. It was a Sunday afternoon around midday so most of the villagers were at home preparing to eat. That evening when the volunteers regrouped, most of them told stories of gracious hospitality. The people of the villages invited them to their homes for dinner and often drove the volunteers back to the center.
In today’s gospel Jesus sends his apostles out in a similar way. They, however, are to bring nothing with them “just in case.” Rather, they are to depend completely on Providence working through the townspeople they encounter. Of course, they have something for the people – release from demons, cures of diseases, and the good news of God’s kingdom. Like the Peace Corps volunteers they will share stories of success.
The dependency of the apostles upon Providence thrills our consciences like a bugle call. Today in our society most people – and certainly church workers – strive to avert risks. The credit card has long served as a way never to be caught without money. Now, of course, with the cellular telephone help is always only a few pushed buttons away. Of course, we have compiled many more resources – generous insurance policies, for example – that meet most every contingency. We may defend this coverage as prudential, but at the same time we wonder if they eliminate an essential element of Jesus’ apostleship.
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