St. Thomas the Apostle Parish

Homily for September 16, 2019

The words we hear from the mouth of the Roman Centurion in today’s Gospel passage are echoed in the Communion Rite of the Mass when we say, “LORD, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof…” When the Centurion spoke to Jesus, he spoke as a pagan who was concerned for Jesus; he did not want Jesus who, of course, was Jewish, to be in violation of the Jewish Law by entering the house of a pagan. The Centurion also showed great faith in the life-giving power of Jesus’ word. Jesus acknowledged his remarkable faith and declared it to be greater than any faith He had found in Israel.

Today’s Gospel passage teaches us that the least likely person can come to possess faith in Jesus and in His power to heal and to save. Part of this lesson is that we should be very slow to judge who is and who is not a person of faith. God knows what is in the heart of every person. The words of this Centurion inspire us every time we receive the Eucharist. May we strive to always grow in our faith and to inspire others by it. +

 

 

 

Homily for September 15, 2019

Have you ever been in a group listening to a joke, and, when the person gives the punch line, everyone laughs or grins; but you didn't get it? You smile awkwardly as you try to figure out why everyone is laughing. Somewhere, somehow, you didn't grasp some detail that was central to the twist that made the story funny. You quickly go over it again in your mind to see what little thing you must have missed.

It's almost like an ice cream company years ago whose slogan was, "It's the subtle little difference that makes all the difference." They claimed that there was some secret in their ice cream formula that, no matter how apparently similar it was to other ice creams, there was the slightest difference that made ALL the difference in the flavor of their ice cream.

And, that is precisely what Jesus' parables are. They are intended to inspire the listener in a new way. But each has a very subtle twist, which requires attention to details, or you won't 'get' Jesus' teaching or challenge.

So it is today. We have heard these parables of forgiveness so many times that we may have missed Jesus' real point. But we might ask: Is it even proper to call them parables of “forgiveness”?   We hear it said: "Tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to Jesus, but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying, 'This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.' So, to them he addressed this parable."

Those to whom Jesus addressed the parables were the complainers, the leaders and people who didn't want sinners to have a place in Jesus' life and ministry. The parable is NOT a word to sinners about God's mercy; it is a parable of challenge and judgment to anyone who lacks mercy. The images of a shepherd seeking his one lost sheep, the woman searching for her one lost coin, the father welcoming back the promiscuous son, are all meant to challenge these religious leaders out of their righteousness, their unwillingness to accept a God whose mercy and hospitality extends to all peoples in all times.

From the earliest experience of Israel in the desert in our first reading, through the amazing mercy that Paul acknowledges in the second reading, God has always been, first and foremost, God of mercy, God of patience, God, who seeks out the lost. How then, Jesus demands of the leaders of his time, do you dare to create a god of your rules, your narrowness, your elitism, and ignore the true God?

For us, then, today becomes a Sunday of self-reflection. If we have been or are now in sin, God's mercy is seeking us, searching for our deepest souls, with a love beyond imagining, ready to receive and welcome us no less than Jesus welcomed sinners in his time.

If, however, we are leading lights of the Church, of the parish, of the diocese, the examination must be about our hospitality or lack thereof to those “outside” our system. No matter how wise and true and accurate our teaching, our moral laws, our Church norms, we must be people of mercy and welcome as we answer the call to lead others to the life and light of Christ. +

Homily for September 10, 2019

The last line of today’s Gospel reading is both simple and powerful at the same time: “Everyone in the crowd sought to touch Him because power came forth from Him and healed them all.” People wanted to touch this man through whom God was working so strongly. It wasn’t enough simply to hear Him or to see Him; they wanted to touch Him.

Touching the LORD is a more intimate and personal way of communicating with Him than simply hearing Him or seeing Him. The sense of touch remains important in our faith lives today. We, too, want to touch the Lord; we, too, want to be touched by Him.

It is above all, in and through the Sacraments, that we touch the LORD and allow Him to touch us and our lives. In the Eucharist, for example, as we take the Bread in our hands or on our tongue and eat it; we take the Chalice of His Blood in our hands and we drink from it, the sense of touch is very real. The touch is real, too, in other Sacraments that include the pouring of water, anointing with oil, and the laying on of hands. We touch the Lord and the LORD touches us through these Sacraments and their ministers.

Like the people in the Gospel, we, too, can experience the healing and renewing power that comes from touching Him. And, the LORD, who touches us in the Sacraments, sends us forth to touch the lives of others in generous, merciful, and life-giving ways.  For as it says in words attributed to St. Teresa of Ávila: 

Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which He looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which He blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are His body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours. +

Homily for September 9, 2019

Homily for the Memorial of Saint Peter Claver, Priest - September 9, 2019

It is probably the case that Jesus had no intention to initiate the disagreement in the synagogue that we hear about in our Gospel passage from St. Luke today. However, He rightly sensed that the scribes and the Pharisees were trying to trap Him and to cast Him in a negative light before the people.

Those who were filled with such anger because Jesus had cured someone on the Sabbath Day were using a disabled man to make Jesus look like a law-breaker, using the man’s disability to get at the “rebellious” preacher from Nazareth.

There is a human tendency to put limits on the love of God, as evidenced by the narrow-minded people who tried to limit Jesus’ outreach and exclude individuals or whole groups from His help.

However, the power of Jesus cannot be bound by narrow and rigid traditions. So many superficial reasons can be given for not doing the right thing: it’s the wrong day of the week to come looking for help; fear of siding with the unemployed, the disabled, or the unborn; feeling unable to correct a powerful, influential person, for obvious wrongdoing. And people even see reasons why God should not act generously. But God does act generously, and He did so in the person of Jesus, and today, He does so in you and in me as His instruments in our world.

May the call to act mercifully and generously in the name of God be answered in our words, actions, and attitudes toward all people, regardless of the time, the day, or the cultural or political climate. +

Homily for September 8, 2019

Homily for the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - September 8, 2019

It is the nature of the human person to often refuse to “let go” of things that are making our lives so much less than we want them to be. We may often cling to the things that enable us to have the trappings of a lifestyle — but at the cost of a life in which joy, love, and fulfillment are the center.

This tendency is something that Jesus warns us about in today’s Gospel reading. He lets us know that we need to spend our lives preparing for the kingdom to come; that even though we say we are committed to the Good News that he brings, it takes much more than that:  It takes a lifetime of preparation and work; it takes a lifetime of letting go and giving our spirit and our very lives over to the mercy and the goodness of God.

In recent years, a number of publications have told the story about a man who followed the advice of Jesus and who put God as the absolute first priority in his life. His name was Charlie DeLeo.

Charlie grew up as a tough kid on New York’s Lower East Side. He served in Viet Nam and, after returning, he got a job as a maintenance worker at the Statue of Liberty, where he worked for more than 50 years.

Part of Charlie’s job was to take care of the torch in the statue’s hand and the crown on the statue’s head. It was his job to see that the sodium vapor lights were always working and that the 200 glass windows were clean.

Of the torch, Charlie said proudly, “That’s my chapel. I dedicated it to the Lord, and I go up there and meditate on my breaks.”

But Charlie does other things for the LORD as well. He received commendations from the Red Cross after donating more than 200 pints of blood. Ever since he heard of the work that Mother Teresa and her Sisters were doing for the poor, he gave them several thousand dollars to help them in their work.

Charlie said to one reporter, “I don’t socialize much, don’t have fancy clothes but I have fun. The thing is, however, I don’t have enough money to get married. I don’t keep any of my money. After I got my job, I sponsored six orphans through those children’s organizations.” Charlie ended the interview by telling the reporter that he called himself “The Keeper of the Flame” of the Statue of Liberty. And that’s exactly what everyone who worked with Charlie saw him as too. But they saw the flame that he kept burning as something much more and much deeper than the torch on the Statue of Liberty.

Charlie is an example of the two points that Jesus makes in today’s Gospel: the decision to put God first in one’s life, and the decision to do whatever it takes to live out that choice. Each of us is called to live up to both of these challenges and to “let go” of that which keeps us from bringing these things to fulfillment in our lives.

I’d like to close with a prayer that Charlie DeLeo wrote: O LORD, I don’t ever expect to have the faith of Abraham, nor do I ever expect to have the leadership of Moses, nor the strength of Samson, nor the courage of David, nor the wisdom of Solomon… But what I do expect, O LORD, is your calling on me some day. What is your will, I shall do; what is your command shall be my joy. And I shall not fail you, O LORD, for you are all I seek to serve.” +

Homily for September 7, 2019

Homily for Saturday of the 22^nd Week in Ordinary Time – September 7, 2019

When the Pharisees questioned Jesus’ disciples about lawfulness of their picking and eating the heads of grain as they walked through the field on the Sabbath Day, Jesus replied with simple common sense. He defended them by calling to mind the time when David and his men were allowed eat what was normally reserved for priests. Proper observance of the Law allowed for serving the poor and the needy.

Jesus concludes His response by telling the Pharisees that “the Son of Man is LORD of the Sabbath.” In other words, it is He who has great authority, even authority over the Laws that govern the activities of the Sabbath Day.

Jesus was proclaiming to the Pharisees, a group that was obsessed with the letter of the Law (the letter of the Law as they interpreted it), that He, as God made flesh and as the Author of the Law, was greater than even the Law and that He could, for the sake of the good, ignore the Pharisees' complex and confusing system of obeying the Law. Once again, Jesus points us to the spirit of God’s Law, to the spirit of the Gospel, as being greater than the pious practices and picayune gestures to which the Pharisees clung.

Let us pray that our practice of the faith may not be blinded by narrow-minded legalism, and that it may open us up to the true spirit of the Gospel and the Law of God. +

Homily for September 1, 2019

Homily for September 1, 2019 - 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Several years ago, the St. Petersburg Times ran a story about the legendary Miami Dolphins coach Don Shula. He was on vacation with his family in a small town in northern Maine.

 One afternoon it was raining and Coach Shula, his wife, and their five children went to a matinee movie in the town’s only theater. When they arrived, the house lights were still on and Coach Shula could see that there was only a handful people there. When he and his family walked in, everyone stood up and cheered.

As he sat down, Coach Shula turned to his wife and said, “We’re about fifteen hundred miles from home and their giving me a standing ovation. They must get the Dolphins on TV all the way up here.”

Then a man approached him and, with a huge smile, shook his hand. Shula beamed and asked, “How did you recognize me?” The man replied, “Mister, I have no idea who you are. All I know is that just before you and your family walked in, the manager told us he wouldn’t show the movie today unless four more people showed up.”

That story clarifies the teaching of today’s readings that our Christian commitment calls us to be humble; it calls us to be the kind of Christian that Don Shula revealed himself to be in sharing that story.

There was a man whose reputation extended across the country, not only as an excellent coach but also as a truly good person. It was only natural for him to think that the man who came over to him knew who he was. When it turned out that he didn’t, Coach Shula was the first to laugh at himself. In fact, he enjoyed the incident so much that he shared it with others. Only a truly humble person would do a thing like that.

This raises an important question for us: What exactly is humility? Does it mean that we put ourselves down? Does it mean that we think little of ourselves? Does it mean that we deny our true worth?

Humility doesn’t mean any of these things. Humility is something more profound and far more beautiful than that. Humility isn’t thinking little of ourselves; it’s not thinking of ourselves at all. In its most profound and beautiful sense, humility means to be like Jesus who said in Matthew’s Gospel, “Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart.” It means to be like Jesus who said, “The Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve.”

Humility means to live as Jesus lived — not for ourselves, but for others. It means to use our talents as Jesus used His talents — not for ourselves and our own glory, but for others and their needs.

There is a story about three people who were having a conversation about recent translations of the Bible. The first person said, “I like the New American Bible that we use at Mass. The language is so much easier to understand without sacrificing the sacredness of God’s Word.”

The second person said, “I like the translation of the Jerusalem Bible because it is very poetic without sacrificing the meaning of God’s Word.”

The third person said, “I like my mother’s translation of the Bible. She has translated the Bible into life and made it live by her example. Her translation is the best one of all.”

That story sums up the challenge of Jesus in today’s Gospel. Jesus challenges us to translate God’s Word into everyday life. He challenges us to live the Bible — to make the Bible live — to use our talents and gifts, again, not for ourselves and our own glory, but for others and their needs. This is how we are to be of humble service as was Jesus Christ.         

I would like close with St. Ignatius’ Prayer for Generosity:

“Lord, teach me to be generous.

Teach me to serve you as you deserve;

to give and not to count the cost;

to fight and not to heed the wounds;

to toil and not to seek for rest;

to labor and not to ask for reward,

except to know

that I am doing your will.” +

 

Homily for August 31, 2019

Whenever we find Jesus including three characters in a parable, we know that the attitude of the third character will be key to the lesson He is trying to teach us. The best example of this is the third character in the parable of the Good Samaritan, mentioned after the priest and Levite, who pass the wounded man on the roadside. It is the response of this third character – the Samaritan – that becomes the focus of that story.

In the parable of the Talents, the third servant saw his master as “a demanding person, harvesting where [he] did not plant and gathering where [he] did not scatter.” Because of his fear of his master, he buried what he had been given for safekeeping. The other two servants had a much more generous view of their master; this gave them the freedom to take initiatives and well-judged risks with what they had been given.

Jesus reveals to us a God of endless generosity, whose goodness has no limits, who is ever-faithful faithful even when we are not faithful. God does not want us to fail, but He does want us to take reasonable risks for the good, trusting that He will be with us. God will continue to befriend us whether or not our labors prove fruitful. Perfect love drives out fear (John 4:18). The assurance of God’s love should drive out the kind of fear that left the third servant in the parable paralyzed. If we are generous with what we have received, we can entrust the result wholeheartedly to God. +

Homily for August 30, 2019

Homily for Friday of the 21^st Week in Ordinary Time - August 30, 2019

Jesus tells us in our parable today that we must be prepared for the Kingdom of God, lest we be locked out because we have forgotten to prepare ourselves in the proper way. Jesus’ parable teaches us an important lesson that is stated very simply and explicitly: We must be prepared to enter the Kingdom of God. Our preparation is not a task to be performed or a list of requirements that need to be fulfilled by a particular point in time. Instead, our preparation is a way of life, to be lived constantly.

As long as we put our relationship with God and our answer to God’s call to love on a “list of things to do”, we will fail to allow God’s love to transform our hearts and our lives.

Every day of our lives on earth should be filled with expressions of love and concern for others, with acts of love for the needy, with praise and thanksgiving for God. +

Homily for August 29, 2019

Homily for the Memorial of the Passion of Saint John the Baptist - August 29, 2019

Many churches throughout the world have paintings and mosaics of John the Baptist baptizing Jesus. Within a few short years of their meeting in the waters of the Jordan, both of them would be dead, victims of execution. First, John the Baptist would be beheaded in a spiteful act of revenge by the wife of Herod, who requested his head on a platter, and so, Herod ordered the execution. Jesus was crucified by order of Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor in Judea. Jesus foresaw his own destiny in the death of John the Baptist. John died for declaring that Herod had broken God’s Law by marrying his brother Philip’s wife, Herodias. John is a beacon of light against the darkness of the others in the story: King Herod, his wife, Herodias, and her daughter. By their combined actions, they killed one whom the king admitted was a righteous and holy man, just as Jesus, the ultimate righteous and holy man, would be killed by another alliance of darkness.

The light of faith shines in darkness of death and destruction. The light of the Lord’s presence shines in our own experience of the darkness difficult experiences of life. Jesus called John the Baptist a “burning and shining lamp.” John’s life is a model for us to let the light of our faith shine forth in the darkness, to live the Gospel in a world that often contradicts it, even when it puts us in conflict with those around us. Our vocation as Christians is to let the light we have received to shine brightly in every situation.

In his first encyclical, Lumen Fidei (The Light of Faith), our Holy Father, Pope Francis wrote that “there is an urgent need to see once again that faith is a light, for once the flame of faith dies out, all other lights begin to dim. A light this powerful cannot come from ourselves but from a more primordial source: in a word, it must come from God.” +