Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, virgin and doctor of the Church
(Job 9:1-12; 14-16)
“Your arms are too short to box with God” is the way one author chooses to describe what Job says in the first reading. Despite the way some believers talk about God as if He were a next door neighbor, Job recognizes that God is further beyond us than the ends of the universe.
Because of God’s transcendence, our initial reaction coming into His presence must be one of fear and awe. It is like a space voyageur’s coming into the vicinity of a black hole that can consume a galaxy. However, we know more about God than that He is other and all-powerful. With Jesus God reveals Himself as our Father whose univocal stance toward us is love. For this reason there is no need to fear God when we strive to conform to His loving will.
Few people have understood our relationship with God more than St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus. Called to monastic life as a teenager, she responded to God’s paternal care with simple acts of charity. She wrote, “The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love." Like everyone else, Thérèse’s arms were too short to box with God but quite sufficient to perform acts emulating His love.
Homilette for Tuesday, September 30, 2008
St. Jerome priest and doctor of the Church
(Luke 9:51-56)
We sometimes see images of St. Jerome with a lion at his side. Those who know little about him opine that Jerome befriended lions much like St. Francis of Assisi and St. Martin de Porres endeared themselves to smaller animals. But much more likely the lion represents St. Jerome himself whose anger for his enemies flared to a rage at times. The heretic Pelagius was one who felt the incandescent brilliance of Jerome’s anger.
In the gospel Jesus’ disciples James and John demonstrate a similar tendency to rage. Learning that the Lord will not be welcome in a Samaritan village, they want to call down fire upon the place. They have quickly forgotten Jesus’ own instructions for the eventuality. Jesus told his apostles that if villagers refuses to welcome their mission of goodwill, they were only to “shake the dust your feet in testimony against them.”
Jerome is a saint despite his irascibility not but because of it. We may be sure that he mastered it before entering the Kingdom of God. Jesus counsels forbearance and forgiveness when people rebuke our best efforts. Uncontrolled anger has no place in his following.
(Luke 9:51-56)
We sometimes see images of St. Jerome with a lion at his side. Those who know little about him opine that Jerome befriended lions much like St. Francis of Assisi and St. Martin de Porres endeared themselves to smaller animals. But much more likely the lion represents St. Jerome himself whose anger for his enemies flared to a rage at times. The heretic Pelagius was one who felt the incandescent brilliance of Jerome’s anger.
In the gospel Jesus’ disciples James and John demonstrate a similar tendency to rage. Learning that the Lord will not be welcome in a Samaritan village, they want to call down fire upon the place. They have quickly forgotten Jesus’ own instructions for the eventuality. Jesus told his apostles that if villagers refuses to welcome their mission of goodwill, they were only to “shake the dust your feet in testimony against them.”
Jerome is a saint despite his irascibility not but because of it. We may be sure that he mastered it before entering the Kingdom of God. Jesus counsels forbearance and forgiveness when people rebuke our best efforts. Uncontrolled anger has no place in his following.
Homilette for Monday, September 29, 2008
Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, archangels
(Revelation 12:7-12)
When the ghost of his father appears to Hamlet in Shakespeare’s famous play, Hamlet is alone. The ghost then explains to Hamlet how he was murdered. When Hamlet’s friends arrive and ask what news he has, Hamlet demands an oath of secrecy before he will tell them. The voice of the ghost chimes in to underscore the need of swearing secrecy. Hearing that voice, Hamlet’s companion Horatio blurts, “...this is wondrous strange.” The grand protagonist counters, “...There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, then are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Many people today – as, no doubt, in other ages -- find the doctrine of angels “wondrous strange” as Horatio found the ghost’s voice. Believing in only what they can see and hear, they doubt the existence of heavenly spirits. As Hamlet would say, angels are not parts of their philosophy. But we Catholics, who accept the spiritual realm where God dwells, should forthrightly accept the doctrine of angels. As Scripture attests in numerous places, angels exist as attendants to God carrying out His commands.
Today’s feast of the archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael really celebrates God’s mercy. As the stories of these angels show, God uses angels to assist humankind. As Michael wages war with Satan, as Gabriel announces the coming of Christ, and as Raphael guides the journeyer Tobias, so God continually sends angels to provide us the means to reach our eternal destination. We can think of angels as God’s loving hand extended to us in need.
(Revelation 12:7-12)
When the ghost of his father appears to Hamlet in Shakespeare’s famous play, Hamlet is alone. The ghost then explains to Hamlet how he was murdered. When Hamlet’s friends arrive and ask what news he has, Hamlet demands an oath of secrecy before he will tell them. The voice of the ghost chimes in to underscore the need of swearing secrecy. Hearing that voice, Hamlet’s companion Horatio blurts, “...this is wondrous strange.” The grand protagonist counters, “...There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, then are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Many people today – as, no doubt, in other ages -- find the doctrine of angels “wondrous strange” as Horatio found the ghost’s voice. Believing in only what they can see and hear, they doubt the existence of heavenly spirits. As Hamlet would say, angels are not parts of their philosophy. But we Catholics, who accept the spiritual realm where God dwells, should forthrightly accept the doctrine of angels. As Scripture attests in numerous places, angels exist as attendants to God carrying out His commands.
Today’s feast of the archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael really celebrates God’s mercy. As the stories of these angels show, God uses angels to assist humankind. As Michael wages war with Satan, as Gabriel announces the coming of Christ, and as Raphael guides the journeyer Tobias, so God continually sends angels to provide us the means to reach our eternal destination. We can think of angels as God’s loving hand extended to us in need.
Homilette for Friday, September 26, 2008
Friday of the Twenty-fifth Week in 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 God’s will implies our having to suffer, are we still open to it? In the gospel today Jesus does not shrink from accepting God’s will, no matter the costs.
Jesus is praying. Such a posture in Luke’s gospel signals a significant event about to take place. Then he asks his apostles how the people consider him. They respond, some as “John the Baptist,” an Elijah figure; others as “Elijah” himself, who was to reappear before the coming of the Christ (Messiah); and still others as “one of the ancient prophets” in the role of Elijah. Jesus in the eye of the public, then, is only the forerunner of whom 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 on behalf of all. For the apostles Jesus is the Christ who has come to establish God’s kingdom on earth. This is good news, of course, but it possesses a tragic underside. In the process of establishing the kingdom of God 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 to be God’s will for us, 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 benign, Jesus seems only to pray with more confidence, “Our Father,...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 God’s will implies our having to suffer, are we still open to it? In the gospel today Jesus does not shrink from accepting God’s will, no matter the costs.
Jesus is praying. Such a posture in Luke’s gospel signals a significant event about to take place. Then he asks his apostles how the people consider him. They respond, some as “John the Baptist,” an Elijah figure; others as “Elijah” himself, who was to reappear before the coming of the Christ (Messiah); and still others as “one of the ancient prophets” in the role of Elijah. Jesus in the eye of the public, then, is only the forerunner of whom 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 on behalf of all. For the apostles Jesus is the Christ who has come to establish God’s kingdom on earth. This is good news, of course, but it possesses a tragic underside. In the process of establishing the kingdom of God 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 to be God’s will for us, 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 benign, Jesus seems only to pray with more confidence, “Our Father,...Thy will be done.”
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.
(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.
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