On the fifth anniversary of my diaconal ordination, I am posting my first homily - given the following day - June 13, 2010, the Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C.
I know what you’re
thinking: “What is he doing up there? I know
that my mother is resisting the urge to say, “Michael, get down from there
right now!” Well, if it makes you feel
any better, I’m wondering the same thing, and that reminds me of a story of a
farmer who would carry two buckets of water up a hill every day to water his
garden. Over time, one of the buckets
developed a hole, and as the farmer walked to his garden, the bucket would leak
so his balance would be thrown off, his shoulders would get sore and the bucket
would be half empty by the time he made it to the garden. After some time the bucket finally said,
“Farmer, I’m sorry I have a hole. I have
caused you much pain and have not been able to carry my full share of water to
the garden. I understand if you want to
get rid of me and replace me with a new bucket.” But the farmer replied, “Oh Bucket, when I
realized you were leaking, I planted rose bushes along the side of the road
where I carried you. Haven’t you noticed
all of the beautiful flowers that you have been watering everyday as we walk to
the garden together?” That bucket discovered
that she was loved and accepted, holes and all, and that’s what today’s Gospel
is about.
In our Gospel passage, a
known sinner marches into a Pharisee’s home and subjects herself to the
ridicule of the community so she can wash and anoint Jesus’ feet. What in the world caused her to do that? Love. Somehow, somewhere this woman discovered true
love – God’s love. She discovered that
God loved her, faults and all. And she just
couldn’t contain herself. That love flowed
right through her in an extravagant act of devotion - washing and anointing the
feet of the Anointed One. We see the
same devotion at the end of the Gospel with the women who received God’s love
in the form of forgiveness or healing and devoted their lives to following
Christ and serving him. These women were
able to love much, because they received and accepted much love.
God’s love is
dynamic! It moves us and shakes us. And it’s like a lifesaver – it’s meant to be
shared. That’s because God can’t contain himself. God bubbles over in love and good cheer, and
he just has to share his good feelings with us so we can share them with each
other. But in order to share God’s love, we
have to allow ourselves to receive it first.
And that’s not always easy because a lot of people – myself included –
spend a lot of time dwelling on our faults.
Now, acknowledging our faults
isn’t a bad thing. But if we hang onto
our faults too tightly, they can dominate us.
We may even start defining ourselves by our faults: “I’m no good at sports; I’m not good enough for
that job promotion; I can’t drink out of a juice box without squirting juice
all over myself.” My girls say, “You
don’t squeeze it, Daddy.” Obsessing about our faults blinds us to the beauty of
our creation in the image of God. We become
unable see God in us and all the good we can do with his love. We fail to smell those roses.
We have to receive God’s
love with faith and confidence. God
never stops loving us – faults and all – and all he asks is that we return that
love to him by sharing it with each other.
I’m not making this up. You know
that when we receive God’s love in the form of the Eucharist, we’re not told to
hold him inside all to ourselves. What’s
the command we hear at the end of Mass? (Given by the Deacon, I would add). We
hear that same command toward the end of this Gospel. We’re told to “Go!” “Go in peace to love and serve the
Lord!” Why? Because the love of Christ is flowing right through
us. We’re leaking Jesus all over the
place, and God wants us to carry his Living Water to the whole World. When we truly accept God’s love – his mercy,
his forgiveness, his sacrifice, his consolation – we can’t hold it in. We want
to share it with everyone we meet. We’re
flooded with an urgent need to return
it to God through service to one another – just like the women in today’s
Gospel.
I know how they
felt. About seven or eight years ago, I
returned to confession after almost 30 years of not going. After that much time, I was so bogged down in
my faults, that I really couldn’t see much good in me at all. I was miserable. But not long after that confession, I began
to see beyond my faults to the God who never stopped loving me – faults and
all. And then I couldn’t contain myself.
I wanted everyone around me to experience the love that I felt. I read everything I could get my hands on; I
became more active in the parish; I began praying more. Jessica even started calling me Saint Michael
– I’ve been called worse. I began
spiritual direction; I entered diaconate formation. And now I stand here before all of you – the
people who bring God’s love to me every day in so many ways: through your support, your prayers, your kind
words, and a lot of laughs. I stand here
praying that, in some small way, I can return that love to God in service to you
as your Deacon.
Unfortunately,
this bucket has a lot of holes in it. Maybe
you think yours does too. But God
loves us anyway – holes and all – and he still calls us to carry his Living
Water to the World. So do you know what
that makes us? Holy Buckets!
