St. Thomas the Apostle Parish

Homily for the Epiphany of the LORD

Most of us would agree that the most difficult part of Christmas shopping is deciding on the perfect gift for each person on our list, what best expresses our love and care for each person, what will bring delight and joy to those we love? Once we know the gift, the trek to the mall is considerably easier.

So what were the Magi thinking in the gifts they brought to the Christ Child on that first day of Epiphany? Did they just wrap up what they happened to have with them in their baggage? Were their gifts the expected offerings given to a king — or someone perceived as a king — given with as much thought as a bottle of wine or a Christmas fruitcake?

Or do the three gifts express something special about this Child that these men of learning had come to realize?

First, the gift of gold: Well, they say you can never go wrong with money. But, in antiquity, gold was more than currency. Gold, then the most valuable metal on earth, was a symbol of divinity. It was the ultimate gift, the perfect offering to royalty. This Child, who would be betrayed for silver, came to transform our perspective of wealth, to treasure again the things of God: compassion, forgiveness and peace are the currency of the realm of the newborn King.

The gift of frankincense: Frankincense comes from a small tree found only in Arabia and parts of northern Africa. The hardened resin of the plant was widely used as a medicine for many ailments: it was applied to stop bleeding and to heal wounds; it was used as an antidote for poisons and as a soothing salve for bruises, ulcerations, and paralyzed limbs. This Child came to restore and heal not just the physical ailments of those He would meet on his Gospel journey, but to heal humankind of our fears and doubts, to bridge the chasms that separate us from one another and from God.

And the gift of myrrh: Myrrh was an expensive extract from the resin of the myrrh tree. It, too, was used as a medicine but, more significantly, it was used in embalming the dead. Only the very wealthy and members of royalty were embalmed; myrrh, therefore, was a gift reserved for kings. This Child came to recreate us in the life of God: His death was the defeat of death, His cross will be His — and our — glory.

The three gifts of the Magi are a Gospel unto themselves: they honor the Child who is Himself a gift from the God whose love is beyond our comprehension, whose goodness knows neither limit nor condition. May we carry these gifts with us in the year ahead as we follow Christ the Morning Star on the journey to Jerusalem and beyond.

Homily for the Memorial of Saints Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen

The question put before John the Baptist, “Who are you?” is one of the great questions of life. We may struggle to answer honestly or fully, “Who am I?” It’s easy to reply at a certain level by telling people what we do for a living, “I am an engineer,” or perhaps, “I am retired.” However, going deeper than our job description to who we are in our innermost selves is a much more difficult task. It can be said that our answer to that deeper question changes as we move through life. How we answer it at this present moment in our lives is not how we would have answered it earlier in our lives nor how we will answer it in the future.

For people of faith, the answer to that question is inextricably linked to our relationship with Jesus, because that relationship touches us at our core being. Saint Paul is the great example of that truth: If he was asked, “Who are you?” he probably would answer in the words of his letter to the Galatians, “I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me.” His identity had become strongly connected to the identity of Christ. When John the Baptist was asked, “Who are you?” in today’s gospel passage, he identified himself as “the voice of one that cries out in the desert, ‘Make straight the way of the LORD.’” His identity was formed by his relationship with Jesus. He is the voice who gives witness to the Word that became flesh. Our own baptismal calling is to keep on growing into Christ so that our personal identity is more and more formed by our relationship with Him. +

Homily for the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

We celebrate today to honor Mary because she is the mother of Jesus. We honor Mary because she is the mother of the eternal Son of God. She is, indeed, the Mother of God and our Blessed Mother as well.

Mary's life, as pure as it was, took on a deeper meaning when she agreed to allow Jesus to be born from her womb. She said to the angel Gabriel: "Behold, I am the handmaid of the LORD. Let it be done to me according to your word."

These words of Mary hold the key to the deeper meaning that we are all searching for. Our lives will take on deeper meaning only when we do what Mary did: only when we turn our lives over to God and let Jesus be born in our hearts and souls will our lives move toward their truest purpose. Today we say to God what Mary said, "Behold, I am the servant of the LORD."

It should be no surprise to the person who is constantly striving to grow in faith that to do the will of God, to open one's heart, to open one's soul to the love, grace and the movement of God, to allow Jesus to be born within us is the only way to true fulfillment in this life.

To open our hearts to God implies a trust that God will be with us as we seek to answer His call; as we seek to do His will; as we seek to be God’s instruments of love and peace in our world. It was trust in the goodness, love, and presence of God in her life that helped Mary to open her heart and soul to what God was asking of her; it’s that same trust to which we aspire in our own lives; it’s that same trust that we ask Mary to teach us by her example and by her prayers on our behalf.

At the beginning of each year, we are reminded of new beginnings and many people resolve to do better in certain areas of their lives. Perhaps, at the beginning of this year, as we look ahead to the weeks and months that will follow, we can work harder to trust in the LORD, to open our hearts and souls and our very lives to His will.

When we open ourselves the way Mary did, then, perhaps, we might one day pray as Mary prayed: "My soul proclaims the greatness of the LORD... For behold, from this day all generations will call me blessed. The Mighty One has done great things for me and holy is [God's] name... God has thrown down the rulers but lifted up the lowly. The hungry He has filled with good things and the rich He has sent away empty."

Homily for the 7th Day in the Octave of Christmas

Tomorrow begins the new year, roughly 2,020 years since the birth of our LORD. There is something fresh and hopeful about starting a new year. It is a time to think about the possibility of new beginnings. Although we are in mid-winter, we know that for the next six months each new day will now be that little bit longer than its yesterday. With the lengthening of daylight, comes the thought of new life.

The Prologue of John’s Gospel reflects this thought of new beginning with its new light dawning on the earth. Its opening words are “In the beginning.” It speaks of a light that shines in the darkness; a light that darkness cannot overpower; a true light that enlightens everyone.

The Gospel passage, of course, is referring, not to the light of the sun, but to a different kind of light. It is the light of the Word who was with God in the beginning. Because this Word became flesh, His light has become available to us. This is a light that envelopes all our living. We live and move in this extraordinary light. Later on in John’s Gospel, Jesus says of Himself: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” 

Most of us have known our own personal experiences of darkness. A darkness of spirit or mind or heart can engulf us; we can be suddenly plunged into some dark and difficult situation that we had not anticipated. It is to these kinds of situations that today’s Gospel can speak most powerfully: “A light shines in the darkness, a light that darkness could not overpower.” Our faith declares that there is no darkness in our world that the light of Christ cannot penetrate.+

Homily for the 6th Day in the Octave of Christmas

The elderly widow Anna is yet another very faithful person featured in the opening two chapters of the Gospel of Luke. Mary, Joseph, Zechariah, Elizabeth, and Simeon are other examples of people of strong and active faith.

What distinguishes Anna from the others is her age — eighty-four years old — and the fact that she never left the Temple; she stayed there, day and night, in prayer and fasting.

Usually, when we think of ways of serving God, it is through some activity for others: visiting the sick or elderly, bringing them food, or taking care of other needs. Anna served God by remaining in the Temple, praying and fasting. By her life of prayer and fasting in the Temple, she was a powerful witness of God’s activity to others.

When Mary and Joseph took Jesus to the Temple, Anna praised God and spoke about the Child to all who looked forward to salvation. Anna’s prayer and fasting, and sharing the story of Jesus, made her a great witness to what God was doing in our world.

Anna’s life of prayer reminds us that there are many ways that we can serve God; one of the most vital ways is by our prayer. In prayer, we surrender ourselves to God. Such service of God will empower us, as it empowered Anna, to be witnesses to God’s presence and activity to all who are still longing for God’s coming.+

Homily for the 5th Day in the Octave of Christmas

Whenever a mother gives birth, family members and friends lovingly admire the new baby and want to hold the bundle of new life, and it is difficult for us to take our eyes off them. Babies are captivating and make us think of the future.

When Mary and Joseph entered the temple with their newborn son, Jesus, they met Simeon, a faithful elderly Jewish man, who took the infant in his arms and glorified God. If every baby is captivating, how much more true is this about the infant Jesus?               

Having cradled Jesus in his arms and having gazed upon Him, Simeon was prepared to depart this world, saying, “LORD, now let your servant go in peace.” His heavenly prayer is now part of Compline, the official night prayer of the Church.

Although we cannot hold the infant Jesus in our arms, we still recognize and welcome Him into our hearts, as did Simeon and Anna. We see Him in the breaking of the bread of the Eucharist, we listen to His voice when the Gospels are proclaimed, and, if we are observant, we see Him in our daily interaction with one another. And, in faith, we cast our attention to that day when we will see him face to face.+

Homily for the Feast of the Holy Innocents

King Herod was so obsessed with his power and any threat to it (real or perceived), that he was prepared to lash out at even innocent children. Throughout the history of world politics, there are many such characters, rulers prepared to sacrifice any number of people to ensure that they stayed in power. It still happens today.

This kind of kingship that Herod espoused was in total contradiction to the kind of kingship that Jesus proclaimed: the kingship of God. His was a kingship that finds expression, not in oppression, but in the humble service of others.

The infant Jesus, who escaped from Herod’s cruelty, went on, as an adult, to say to His disciples, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant.”

None of us will ever act like Herod, but we cannot afford to be satisfied with the ways in which we deal with others in our lives; there is something in human nature that can make us prone to seek to dominate others. The first reading today says that, “if we say we have no sin in us, we are deceiving ourselves and refusing to admit the truth.” We have to be alert to the ways we can fail to take that path of humble, self-emptying, service of others which is the way of Jesus. +

Homily for the Feast of the Holy Family

The weekly column of late journalist Erma Bombeck appeared in many newspapers across the country, and she got many letters from her readers. One letter she received came from an anguished mother who wrote:

 

“Even though the courts have given up on my son, I have not. He’s my son; how can I give up on him? I pray for him; I cry for him; I encourage him. And, above all, I love him.”

 

A twelve-year-old girl once wrote to Bombeck saying:

 

“I am a substitute mom. When my mom is working, I babysit my little brothers and sisters. I do everything a real mom does. But, instead of thanking me, my brothers and sisters hate me. When I grow up, I don’t ever want to be a real mom. It’s the worst job in the whole world.”

 

Indeed, being a parent or child in a family isn’t always easy. The Gospels show us that even the Holy Family wasn’t free from difficulty. Mary and Joseph suffered when they discovered Jesus was missing and when they found him, Mary said to Jesus, “Why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.”

 

Jesus answered: “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” And how did Mary respond to that answer? She didn’t confront Jesus. She didn’t press him for an explanation. The Gospel says, “[Mary] did not understand what He said… [So she] kept all these things in her heart.”

 

Erma Bombeck wrote, “I suppose every child remembers some special virtue their mother has — some piece of wisdom that has saved them from disaster or a word that made the path infinitely easier.” She said, “I love my mother for all the times she said absolutely nothing.”

 

It takes a lot of self-control and wisdom to know when to stay silent. But often, silence does speak louder than words.

 

If Mary’s role in the Holy Family was challenging, consider Joseph’s role. A retreat master had just made this point in a retreat that he was conducting for fathers. He ended by saying, “Joseph is the perfect model for all of us.”

 

Afterward, a father came up to him and said, “Joseph’s situation was different from that of ordinary fathers. He was a saint, his wife was sinless, and his son was the Son of God. That’s not like us at all.”

 

The retreat master said, “What you say is true but was your wife with child before you got married without you knowing who the father was? Or did you ever lose your son and not know where he was? These things happened to Joseph and many more things that you struggle with every day, but he was always faithful to the call of God.”

 

The point is clear. Not even the holiest family on earth is immune from struggle, but struggling is not always bad; it can become a blessing if we accept it correctly. It can bring us closer to God. People often become closer to God through their struggles, not because God causes them, but because God will always help us work through our difficulties if we turn to Him and ask for help. God may not take away our suffering, but He is willing to be by our side, giving us the courage to walk through the darkness and find the light of His love and compassion.+

Homily for the Feast of St. Stephen

Today the Church celebrates the feast of St. Stephen. He is the first martyr of the Church, being put to death by a mob in the year 36 A.D., with the approval of Saul of Tarsus (the future Apostle, Paul). He is the patron saint of deacons, as he was among the first group of seven deacons appointed by the Apostles with the task of caring for the poor.

During the season of Advent, which we just concluded, we found ourselves directing our thoughts to the less fortunate, especially the poor. We shopped for people who would not receive as many presents as our families. We donated food to the needy and some of us even volunteered part of our Christmas Day to feed the poor in “soup kitchens.” But Christmas Day has come and gone, and it could be easy for us to forget our Advent almsgiving and focus on our future for ourselves.

In his work entitled Pilgrim’s Almanac, Fr. Ed Hayes makes a suggestion about today’s feast as an opportunity to share some of our Christmas gifts with those less fortunate than ourselves. The feast of St. Stephen, known as “Boxing Day” in England and in Canada was, at one time, a day when people would box up some of their Christmas presents for the poor. Now, however, the re-boxed gifts are more likely the ones we didn’t like or couldn’t use and are returned to the store.

Most of us really have no need for all the gifts we receive. So, if you planned to return a sweater, why not share that sweater with someone who is in genuine need of one?  It could be a learning opportunity for our youth to choose to share something with other kids who don’t have so much.

A couple of years ago, there was a horrible fire in the town of Monson, just a few days before Christmas; the family lost everything. Before Christmas, a friend’s granddaughter and her boyfriend gave up some of their own gifts so that the family victimized by the fire would receive something on Christmas morning. And let’s admit it, the spirit of that gesture was the greater gift. May we freely share that gift of generosity in many ways throughout the year ahead. +

Homily for Christmas

There is a story of a woman who was sitting in front of her fireplace on Christmas Eve and she was thinking about the Christmas story and how incredible it is. She wondered why the Creator of the Universe would decide to become human and live among us, and why God would choose to be born in a dirty stable among farm animals. It just didn't make any sense to her. In fact, it seemed absurd and ridiculous.

A strange sound outside interrupted the woman's thoughts. She couldn't imagine what it was and so she went and looked outside. There in the moonlight on the snow-covered lawn, she saw about a dozen geese. They were crying out frantically and staggering about. They seemed dazed and confused. The sight of the exhausted geese stumbling about in the snow moved the woman to pity. She put on her coat, went outside, and opened the door to her warm garage. Then she tried to herd the geese into the garage. However, the more the woman tried to help them the more frightened they became.

Soon the geese were scattered all over the front yard. Instead of helping them, the woman was making matters worse. Finally, after about twenty minutes the woman gave up. As she stood there in the moonlight, looking at the frightened geese, she realized that they had no idea she was trying to help them. They had no idea that she was a friend and not an enemy.

Then a strange thought came to her. She thought that if just for a minute she could become one of them — just an ordinary goose — and could talk to them in their own language, she could explain to them what she was trying to do.

And then it hit her. That's what Christmas is all about. She realized that Christmas is about God looking down from heaven upon the human race and seeing us staggering about, dazed and confused by the demands and difficulties of earthly life, in a sense, like the frozen geese in the woman's yard.

It's about God pitying us as the woman pitied the geese in her yard. It's about God looking down from heaven and saying of us as did the woman: "If only I could become one of them and talk to them in their own language, I could tell them how much I love them and want to help them."

When the woman recognized this, Christmas made a lot more sense to her. It no longer seemed ridiculous or absurd.

And it isn't ridiculous or absurd. It shows us just how much God loves us that he would come to us, as one of us, in the humblest of ways. And it is even more than just being loved by God. Christmas is about God becoming one of us and giving us a share of God's own love and concern as we share that love with others. It's about God giving us the power to do for others what God does for us.+