Sunday, August 19, 2018

What About You? Homily for the Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B


          In 1884, Katharine Drexel traveled with her father and sister to the western United States, where she became extremely troubled by the poverty and destitution among the Native American people. In an audience with Pope Leo XIII a few years later, she boldly asked the Holy Father to send missionaries to serve the Native American communities out west. Without missing a beat, Pope Leo replied, “What about you? What are you going to do?”[1] Pope Leo’s question cries out to all of us, as we face what may be the greatest crisis in the life of our Church. Our readings this morning lead us to the answer.

          Today’s readings call us to communion. In our first reading, God’s Wisdom invites us to her banquet to advance in the ways of understanding. Saint Paul, in our second reading, encourages us to join together in psalms, hymns, and thanksgiving. And our invitation to communion culminates in Jesus’ profound teaching in our Gospel that when eat his flesh and drink his blood, we remain in him, he remains in us, and we have eternal life.  
   
We all know communion to be the reception of the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist. But the Catechism also defines communion more generally as “our fellowship and union with Jesus and other baptized Christians in the Church, which has its source and summit in the celebration of the Eucharist.”[2] Communion, then, is all about relationships: our relationship with God through Jesus, and our relationship with each other through Christ’s Church in the Eucharist.

So how does the Eucharist bring us into communion with God and with each other? Well, we know that Jesus and the Father are one, so since “Jesus has life in him from the Father; the one consuming his flesh and blood will . . . have that same life.”[3] By consuming Jesus’ flesh and blood, we’re brought into communion with Jesus and the Father. But what about communion with each other? Let’s remember what Jesus taught us: Everyone who eats his flesh and drinks his blood remains in Christ and Christ in him. Through the Eucharist, we’re brought into communion with each other in Christ.

You know, there’s a saying that when we eat physical food, it becomes us; when we eat spiritual food, we become it. In the spiritual food of the Eucharist, then, we become something much greater than anything we could achieve individually: we become the Mystical Body of Christ. We become the Church, and Christ’s Church is a powerful institution. “When nourished with Christ’s own flesh and blood, the life within us can become an unstoppable force.”[4] So much so that at its best, the Church has become the largest charitable organization in the world, a tireless advocate for social justice, and a steadfast authority on faith and morals for more than 2 millennia. 

Although these great works continue, they’ve been overshadowed and hindered by grave human failures among our clergy and religious that have most recently come to light in the allegations against Archbishop McCarrick, the Pennsylvania Grand Jury Report, and similar findings in Australia, Chile and Honduras. As a result of these heinous crimes, innocent people have been egregiously harmed, the Church has squandered its credibility in the arena of faith and morals, and Catholics are leaving the Church in droves. I’m not being dramatic when I say that the Church faces a crisis of epic proportions that must be addressed now. 
 
That brings us back to Pope Leo’s question: “What about you? What are you going to do?” Do we stay, or do we leave in disgust? Well, Jesus never sold the Christian mission as an easy one; he was very honest in telling us that we’d suffer in this world. But he also promised to be with us always until the end of time, and he gave himself to us in the Eucharist precisely to strengthen us to carry his mission to the ends of the earth, no matter what we might face. As I said earlier, the Church is a powerful institution when we live in communion with God and with each other through Jesus Christ. The Church’s power comes from God, not from its human hierarchy. That’s why Jesus could assure us that the gates of hell shall never prevail against it (Matthew 16:18). Yes, I’m angry, I’m frustrated and very discouraged, but no flawed human being is going to deprive me of my rightful place in the Mystical Body of Christ. What am I going to do? I’m staying, and I beg all of you and all people of good will to stay with me.

Now you may be asking, “If we stay, what do we do to fix this mess?” I certainly don’t claim to have answers that will solve every problem this crisis presents but allow me to offer a few thoughts that might help:

  • Together, let’s support and encourage the wonderful bishops, priests, deacons, and religious among us. There are lots of them – many more than the bad ones. They need to know that we love and respect them, and we need to encourage them to keep up the good work;
  • Together, let’s encourage our best men and women to pursue vocations to the priesthood, diaconate and religious life. If we want good leaders and role models, we need to support the vocations of good people
  • Together, let’s hold ourselves accountable to our Christian ideals, always bearing in mind that we’re all sinners in need of mercy;
  • Together, let’s come to the banquet in worship, joining in psalms, hymns, and thanksgiving to God, and do our best to discern his will as we face these challenges.
Together, in communion, let’s be the Church that Christ calls us to be.

     Katharine Drexel didn’t run away from the problems she saw because she understood that Christ calls us to remain in communion with the Father and with each other through him. She understood that when we’re nourished and strengthened by Christ in the Eucharist, we can face any problem this world throws at us. So in response to Pope Leo’s question, Katharine Drexel became a religious sister, she founded the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, and she devoted the rest of her life to serving the Native American and African American communities. We now know Katharine Drexel as Saint Katharine Drexel – the patron saint of social justice and philanthropists. Katharine Drexel saw a big problem, she remained in Christ, and in communion with his Church, she helped fix it.  What about you? What are you going to do?

 Readings: Proverbs 9: 1-6; Psalm 34; Ephesians 5: 15-20; John 6: 51-58


[1] Pope Francis, Homily of His Holiness Pope Francis, Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul, Philadelphia, September 26, 2015, http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2015/documents/papa-francesco_20150926_usa-omelia-philadelphia.html.
[2] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2d ed. (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1997), Glossary, 871.
[3] New Collegeville Bible Commentary: New Testament, ed. Daniel Durkin (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2009), 331.
[4] Michael Simone, “Life Inexorable,” America, August 6, 2018, 52.

Saturday, August 11, 2018

Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust - A Baptism Homily


God bless Hannah Diane and John Joseph!

          In the 1991 Steven Spielberg movie “Hook,” starring Robin Williams, we find a very grown up Peter Banning working as a corporate lawyer in London. Peter had been adopted by Wendy Darling many years before, and the eternal child in him finally grew up, forgetting his youthful adventures as Peter Pan. His former life returns to him suddenly when he discovers that Captain Hook has kidnapped his children to lure Peter back to Neverland for an epic, final duel. There’s one problem, though:  Peter Banning doesn’t remember how to be Peter Pan; he doesn’t remember how to fly; he’s forgotten that all he needs is a happy thought grounded in faith, trust and pixie dust. Faith, trust and, yes, pixie dust are essential to the Christian life that Hannah and John are entering today. Our reading tells us why.

          Today’s reading is one of my favorite Gospel passages for Baptisms. In it we learn about Jesus’s great love for children, and perhaps more importantly, about our need to be childlike to enjoy the eternal happiness of Heaven. So what does Jesus mean when he tells us that we need to be childlike?  Well, I don’t think he means that we should be messy, or smelly, or cry when we don’t get our own way. He means that we have to believe in the unbelievable, we have to be humble, and we have to be innocent.  In short, we have to have faith, trust, and pixie dust.  Allow me to explain.

Faith is a cardinal virtue infused in our souls by God. It’s our firm conviction that God exists, and that God will deliver all that he promised through Revelation.  Faith isn’t blindly believing in something we can’t see; it’s the evidence that what we can’t see is really there.[1]  Little children are paragons of faith. The notion of God is easy for them to grasp because they’re willing to just believe, and they hold onto their beliefs even when they don’t seem to make sense.  To be happy, we need faith in God, just like children.

 Trust is placing complete reliance on another. While faith is belief, trust is acting on that belief. It’s an act of humility. Little children are wonderful examples of trust – they rely on their parents for everything, always trusting that their parents will deliver in their best interest. To be happy, we need to trust God, just like children trust their parents.

Now the one you’ve all been waiting for – pixie dust.  Pixie dust is another word for awe and wonder. One of the great by-products of faith and trust is that teach us to see the world through a child’s eyes. “Everything becomes luminous, animated, loving.”[2] Children see God’s creation as one big playground – it’s fantastic, thrilling, and inviting. To be happy, we need to live in awe and wonder of God’s handiwork, just like children. Faith, trust, and pixie dust are the keys to the happiness that can only be found in God, because the happiness that can only be found in God assures us that we are loved, frees us from every burden, and allows us to enjoy our world.  When we’re truly happy, we fly.

           No matter how hard the Lost Boys tried to teach him, Peter Banning couldn’t fly like he used to when he was Peter Pan. That is, until Tinker Bell reminded him that all he needed was a happy thought – the kind that comes from faith, trust, and pixie dust. He struggled at first to find a happy thought among the many difficulties he experienced in life. Then Peter suddenly remembered his happiest thought – his children.  And with that happy thought, Peter flew, ready to face the challenges ahead of him. Amy and Eric, Jess and Greg, thank you for bringing your happiest thoughts to Jesus through the sacrament of Baptism. With your good example, and a little help from your family, your friends and your Church, I pray that Hannah and John will soar through life filled with happy thoughts that are grounded always in faith, trust, and, yes, pixie dust. 

 Reading: Mark 10: 13-16


[1] Peter Givens.
[2] Anonymous.