Allow me to give you a
little insight into the making of a homily.
A homily is always supposed to be relevant to the readings and to the circumstances
of the day. Over the last month or so
when I’ve had the occasion to preach, the circumstances or the readings led me to
give some pretty heavy homilies. So I
was really excited about trying to lighten things up a little bit this week, about
giving a relevant but joyful homily. I
began my homily preparation a few weeks ago by taking a look at today’s
readings. And what did I find? Job! “Is
not man’s life on earth a drudgery?” (Job 7: 1)
“I have been assigned months of misery.”
(Job 7: 3) “I shall not see
happiness again.” (Job 7: 7b). So I quickly turned to the Gospel, and what
did I find? A whole lot of sick and
possessed people. My last chance was our
second reading from the First Letter to the Corinthians, and there I find Saint
Paul telling me that I not only have an obligation to preach, but I should do
it for free. Now that’s depressing. After much prayer over these readings, it dawned on me
that Saint Paul’s admonition on preaching sits right in the middle of Job’s
complaints about the difficulties of life and a Gospel passage where Jesus
heals the sick and preaches the Good News.
It dawned on me that we’re all called to preach from the middle.
Whether we like it or not, we’re all called to
preach. You’ll recall that when we’re
baptized, we take on the mission of priest, prophet and king. Well, the prophet’s job is preaching. Saint Paul “says that he did not undertake
the work of preaching the Gospel of his own volition; instead, it was an
obligation imposed on him by God.”[1] And so it is with each one of us. While some of us are specifically called and
trained to preach during liturgies, all
of us are called to preach the Good News of Jesus Christ in every moment of our
lives. “The Gospel is not only to be
heard and enjoyed, but also lived and preached in word and deed.”[2] Our words and deeds speak volumes to what we really
believe – they’re heard and observed in our homes, in our towns and everywhere
we go, just as Jesus’ words and deeds were heard and observed in today’s
Gospel. Whether we like it or not, we’re
all preachers.
So what does it mean to preach the Good News? Well, it doesn’t mean spewing forth Pollyannaish
statements of unspeakable joy that ignore the harsh realities of life. If we become exclusively concerned with heaven,
we risk being seen as impractical idealists. If we’re too concerned with earthly challenges,
we risk becoming hopeless depressives. Remember,
“Jesus never separated earth and heaven.”[3] In fact, Jesus, the very embodiment of earth
and heaven – the human and the divine – dreamt of “a time when God’s will would
be done on earth as it is in heaven (Matthew 6:10), [when] earth and heaven
[would] be one.”[4]
So
when we preach the Good News of Jesus Christ, in our words and our deeds, we have
to preach from the middle. We have to serve
as a bridge between the challenges of this world and the unspeakable joy of the
next. We have to stand with both feet
firmly on the ground, but with our eyes fixed on the heavens, proclaiming a
Gospel that “speak[s] to the here and now as well as the world to come.”[5]
Believe it or not, we’re all perfectly suited to
preach from the middle. On the one hand,
we’re people of faith. We wouldn’t be
here if we weren’t. That faith keeps our
eyes fixed on the heavens in the joyful hope of eternal life. On the other hand, our life experiences, the
good and the bad, keep our feet firmly on the ground and make us relevant to
others. Our joys bring hope to the hopeless,
and our wounds “become sources of healing for others.”[6] So people of faith who are married preach the
Gospel of Love in their homes. People of
faith who are parents preach the Gospel of Life to the world. People of faith who are teens who take a stand
against peer pressure preach the Gospel of Truth to those who are persecuted. People of faith who have experienced mental, physical
or spiritual illness preach the Gospel of Healing to those who suffer. And people of faith who have lost a loved one
preach the Gospel of Compassion to those who mourn. Each of us has unique experiences, and
therefore unique messages. So my advice
to you is: be yourself, and preach the good
news; someone is longing to hear it. Oh,
and keep it under ten minutes; no souls are saved after that.
Last week a parishioner asked me how I could smile at
Mass on Sunday after assisting at a funeral on Friday. I hope you don’t interpret my smiles as
hard-heartedness or a lack of sympathy or emotion. I share the same emotions that we all share,
and funerals are particularly difficult for me. Though it’s not always easy, I make an effort to smile at Mass, especially when
I distribute communion, because I really do believe in the Good News, and I
feel privileged to serve this community and to preach the joy of the Gospel. For me, that’s something to smile about. Our faith teaches us that even in the face of
suffering, death and every challenge this life throws at us, there’s always
something to smile about. If we face the
challenges of this life with our eyes fixed on the unspeakable joy of the next,
we preach from the middle. And when we
preach from the middle, every homily we preach, in word and deed, will be
relevant and joyful.
[1]
Maria A. Pascuzzi, “The First Letter to the Corinthians,” New Collegeville Bible Commentary, New Testament, Daniel Durlen,
ed. (Collegeville, Liturgical Press, 2009) at 518.
[2]
Patricia Datchuk Sánchez, “Good News for All,” National Catholic Reporter, vol. 51, no. 8 (January 30- February
12, 2015) at 27.
[3]
William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark (Louisville,
Westminster John Knox Press, 2001) at 47.
[4]
Id. At 48.
[5]
Datchuk Sánchez at 27.
[6]
Michael Ford, Father Mychal Judge: An Authentic American Hero (New York,
Paulist Press, 2002) at 188.
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