Two afterthoughts on Lent.5.A.....

 

Although my blog is called “Homilies and Occasional Thoughts,” this post should be called “Afterthoughts.”

My original post of this Sunday’s homily featured the picture above, with a note that I could not find the name of its artist or the source. An old friend and former parishioner promptly emailed to tell me that the painting came from a remarkable source, Vie de Jesus Mafa, a catechetical project from Northern Cameroon that aimed at helping Mafa communities teach the Bible.

You can read the remarkable story here and take a look at the catalogue of images from Vanderbilt University's digital archive here. 

And that’s not the only afterthought I have to share. On Twitter this morning I saw this quotation from Pope Francis about today’s Gospel of the healing of Lazarus. The Pope said: “Here we can experience firsthand that God is life and gives life, yet takes on the tragedy of death. Jesus could have avoided the death of his friend Lazarus, but he wanted to share in our suffering for the death of people dear to us, and above all, he wished to demonstrate God’s dominion over death.”

I found this emphasis on Christ’s sharing in our grief over the death of those we loved very helpful.

Are we ready to be 'unbound'? (Lent 5.A)

This week's homily is one I gave some years back, with updated dates and links. I couldn't find the source or the name of the artist of the powerful painting above.

Today’s Gospel is a drama in three acts.

First, there is the illness of Lazarus—during which Jesus seems unwilling to respond.

Then there is his death, followed by Martha’s encounter with Jesus.

The drama concludes with the raising of Lazarus.

At every point the dialogue is gripping. Jesus declares that his friend’s illness will not lead to death, words his disciples must have struggled with when they found Lazarus was already in the tomb.

There are the pained but faith-filled words of Martha when Jesus makes finally his appearance. And of course, we hear the words Jesus speaks to his Father as he stands at the entrance to the tomb.

We could reflect and pray for hours on any one phrase from this magnificent Gospel passage. Certainly, the Church intends us to think about the Resurrection of Jesus, to which the raising of Lazarus is obviously connected, especially as Easter draws near.

But I would like to preach today on just two words from St. John’s powerful text. The two words are “unbind him.”

Unbound is the title of a book by the Catholic layman Neal Lozano, who helps people struggling with evil in their lives. The book is about the Gospel message of deliverance from sin, proposing what it calls “five keys” to freedom.

I have spoken about this ministry in several homilies over the years, but there’s no time for that today. I just want to mention the first of the five keys described in Unbound, the essential one: repentance and faith.

Jesus is speaking to the Church when he says, “unbind him.” The Church is called to free us from the sins that bind and encumber us—the sin that clings to us and restricts us, as the Letter to the Hebrews says (12:1).

But we are not passive, like Lazarus; we must repent personally of wearing the burial shrouds of sin, and have faith in Christ’s ability to restore us to life by his merciful forgiveness.

This is the time in our Lenten journey when we decide whether we’re going to make the effort to go to confession. The last of our three Tuesday evenings of adoration and confessions is this week. The first of the two regional penitential services is this Thursday, at Holy Trinity parish. The second is Monday April 3, in Holy Week, here at Christ the Redeemer.

We can think of those dates as mere schedules. Or we can hear the Lord calling us to come out from the cave and into the light.

We all have our reasons for avoiding confession. Too busy.  Too good.  Too bad. But the worst reason is “ I’m not ready.”

Archbishop Fulton Sheen wrote that our modern world of instant communications, instant food, instant diets, and instant-beauty aids often makes us think of repentance as instantaneous transformation:  “We are rotten one moment, pure the next.”

He says this is bad psychology, “because it leads us to think God accepts us only after and because we have reformed. It leads also to discouragement because we soon see how quickly we fail after we had repented.”

But Archbishop Sheen, one of the great preachers of the 20th century, reminds us that the Prodigal Son did not say to himself: “I know what I will do. I will pull myself back up by my own bootstraps, make myself acceptable again, and then I will return to my father.”

“No, he went back a repentant, but not yet fully reformed, prodigal. We must think of repentance as a beginning rather than an ending, as a change of heart that only gradually leads to a change of ways. Repentant sinners are still sinners, but the difference is, they no longer want to be sinners.”

Doesn’t that make it seem easier to approach the sacrament of reconciliation?

During these final weeks of Lent, the Church hears the Lord’s call to unbind and untie her members from sin. Each of us should hear him cry “Come out!”

But there’s something else we should hear: our own call to invite others to this sacrament. In our parish we are working to build a strong culture of invitation.  So why not ask your spouse, child or grandchild who may have been away from the sacrament to come with you to the sacrament of reconciliation before Easter?

I have known many people whose hearts turned back to Jesus and the Church through one good confession.

 So, there’s my brief “takeaway” this week: come to the Lord and bring someone with you.

Even though our bodies are dead because of sin, as St. Paul said in today’s second reading, we know that God’s spirit will give us life.

 

The man born blind is all of us... (Lent.4.A)

 

I’m sure that most of you have heard about ChatGPT. But in case you haven’t, this is a so-called application of artificial intelligence, or AI, that has taken an unsuspecting world by storm. Its ability to write excellent academic essays has teachers everywhere running scared.

So, I thought I would see how well ChatGPT could write a homily on today’s Gospel.

The answer? Let’s just say I’m looking seriously at retirement and taking up gardening!

However, there was one thing the new technology could not do. I asked it the name of the man born blind, and it couldn’t tell me. But I can tell you.

The name of the man born blind is Gregory Smith. And Kieran Magee. And Karen Magee. And your name, too.

There’s a reason that the Gospel doesn’t give us a name: that man is all of us. All of us came into a world shrouded in darkness, and wounded by sin.

In Baptism, the celebrant says “You have been enlightened by Christ. Walk always as children of the light and keep the flame of faith alive in your hearts.” This is not simply symbolic language but practical truth. The light of faith provides Christians with moral clarity in a confused world; as St. Thomas Aquinas said “the certainty that the divine light gives is greater than that which the light of natural reason gives.” (CCC 157)

We sometimes hear the expression ‘blind faith.’ It’s misleading. Faith is anything but blind when the intellect is enlightened by grace. And the further away we move from the Creator the more our thinking is clouded. The prophet Jeremiah, proclaiming God’s judgement on infidelity, summed this up in three words: “truth has perished.”

You have only to watch a newscast or read a paper to see how this applies to our own society today. On many issues, fundamental to individual and social flourishing, a line from Shakespeare’s Macbeth is fitting: “Fair is foul, and foul is fair.”

Of course, the most powerful light given in Baptism is the ability to recognize Jesus as Lord. The drama of the blind man’s healing is secondary to the gift of seeing Jesus.

In all of this, we are the man born blind. Even ChatGPT understood this. It suggested four ways in which we are like him and can receive the healing he received. I agreed with all four and tried to fit them in to my homily today.

First, we have many questions and doubts. The disciples’ question to Jesus regarding who sinned, the man or his parents, shows their lack of understanding of who God is and how he works. Similarly, modern Christians are also faced with doubts about their faith. We wonder why God allows evil to exist or why he hasn’t answered our prayers.

However, just as Jesus answered the disciples’ question by teaching them about God’s saving plan, we can find answers to our questions through prayer and studying God’s word. Through our doubts and questions, placed before the Lord, we can grow in faith and develop a deeper understanding of  how God works.

Second, like the man born blind, many Catholics today face ridicule and rejection—even persecution—when they profess their faith. I hear, especially from young people, about how hard it is for them at school and work.

The man in today’s Gospel is not yet a Christian but he is certainly treated like one. He reminds us of what Jesus said to us: “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.” (Mt 5:11)

Look at what happened after the Jewish leaders rejected him. The man did not need to go looking for Jesus—Jesus came looking for him. Jesus rewarded his constancy by revealing himself even more clearly.

Accepting the darkness of discrimination can lead to a deeper relationship with Jesus, the Light of the world. As the psalmist says to God, “taunts against you fall on me.” (Ps. 68)

ChatGPT’s third point was a bit on the obvious side—a reminder that artificial intelligence is actually not intelligence at all. AI just does a terrific job of gathering and presenting the work of human minds, cutting and pasting with remarkable skill, but cutting and pasting all the same.

The obvious point is that each of us needs healing. The man born blind received his sight in a miracle of physical healing, but he also received spiritual healing through his encounter with Jesus. In the same way, each of us needs healing and redemption from our sinful nature.

As St. Paul writes “once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light.” (Eph. 5:8)

Only at the end of its homily did ChatGPT say something I hadn’t thought of. But I liked it very much. The application’s fourth point was that we are like the man born blind because we too have a testimony to share.

After he received his sight, the man witnessed to others about the transforming power of Jesus. We heard his simple testimony “One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see … if this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

Every baptized Christian has something to share about how God has transformed or healed us. Whether it’s about a personal encounter with Jesus or about the power of prayer, we need to share our stories of how faith has changed our lives.

I can’t tell you how much I admire the parishioners who have stood in this pulpit to give their testimony of faith at Water in the Desert, month after month. But I pray that the day will come when such sharing is no longer extraordinary but understood as part and parcel of an ordinary Christian’s life.

As the man born blind showed us, all it takes is stating simple truths without hesitation or compromise, in a spirit of thanksgiving.

My one-sentence takeaway can come straight from ChatGPT. The story of the man born blind has much to teach modern-day Christians; like the blind man, we face questions, doubts, rejection, and the need for healing and redemption. However, through faith in Jesus, we can find hope, comfort, and a testimony to share with others.

But I’m not prepared to give the last word to a computer! In the first place, ChatGPT did not know it was preaching on Laetare Sunday. It did not know this was the fourth Sunday of Lent, a day when the Church invites us to be especially joyful.

In the second place, it didn’t recognize that today is the occasion of the second scrutiny of catechumens, those preparing for Baptism at the Easter Vigil. But I cannot criticize it for that failing, because I myself did not know we had catechumens, since none appeared last week for the first scrutiny.

It turns out that we have three catechumens who will be baptized and confirmed at Easter—but all three are away with their families for spring break!

Being joyful was easy today when I found out that three participants in our RCIA program had asked for Baptism, and two who are already Christians will be received into full communion with the Church and confirmed alongside them at our glorious celebration of the Easter Vigil.

So now I can add that the names of the man born blind are also Chelsea, Olivia, Sara, Brittany, and Dara.

Take that ChatGPT!! And my homily was almost 600 words longer than yours—which may or may not be something to brag about.

 

 

Go up to the mountain... (Lent.2.A)

 

We ended a very busy week in the parish with a flood in the rectory, which is now full of noisy machines trying to dry things out. We started with a parking lot full of snow and a no-show plowing company.

Life is full of challenges, big and small.

Does anyone disagree with that?

Travelling with small children is one of life’s small challenges that can seem enormous. I was flying to Toronto a while back, and across the aisle was a couple with a baby who screamed almost non-stop.

At least the mother was a model of calm. She spoke very gently “Keep calm, Albert. No need to be upset, Albert. We’ll be home soon, Albert.”

As we were getting off the plane, I asked the young father how old little Albert was.

“Oh, no,” he said—“his name’s Michael. I’m Albert.”

On the surface, today’s Gospel seems miles away from such everyday challenges. The high biblical mountaintop is about as far away as you can get from my fears and my issues. The story doesn’t seem to have much to do with our daily life at all. Clearly, as we will hear in the beautiful Preface today, it’s about Jesus preparing his friends for his crucifixion, arming them in advance with a preview of his glory.

But if that’s all, why is the Church so keen to share the story of the transfiguration every year on the second Sunday of Lent? This year we read St. Matthew’s account, next year St. Mark’s, last year St. Luke’s. Obviously, this story is very important, but why? After all, we don’t need a preview of Christ’s resurrection; it has already happened, and we know that.

I can only think of one reason: the transfiguration strengthens our hope that we will be transformed.

In this season where we hope for personal change, we need a reminder to rely on the power of God. Lent won’t make a difference because of what we accomplish, but as St. Paul says in our second reading, according to God’s “own purposes and grace.”

Just as no human power transfigured Jesus—Mark’s Gospel says his clothes were dazzling white “such as no one earth could bleach them”—so too we make progress in our Lenten journey by God’s goodness not our own.

Today we’re invited to share in the mountaintop experience of Peter, James, and John. If we have stumbled our way through these first days of Lent, we need to hear the Lord saying “Get up and do not be afraid.”

As my great friend Father Groeschel might have said, today the Church is speaking to those of us who have been schlepping along, not those of us who have been steadily running the race.

Which leads to the big question: are we on our way up the mountain to witness Christ’s glory, or are we standing at the base of the hill scratching our heads?

Are we looking for personal transformation during these days of Lent, or just ‘more of the same’?

Are we really looking for visible changes in our daily lives? More patience, less selfishness; more insight, less anger; more generosity, less self-indulgence. Are we anticipating victories, large or small, over some of the things that enslave us or hold us back?

Do I expect to be the same old me at Easter? Is the journey from Ash Wednesday to Holy Week a Sunday stroll or a bold climb up the mountain?

If we’re settling for “Lent lite,” today might be a day to think again. God offers real change and deep renewal to those who ask.

The spring training we call Lent is founded on three kinds of spiritual exercise: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. It works very well for athletes, but it’s by no means the only way to get in spiritual shape.

And fasting from food is not the only way to fast. We can also fast from our over-scheduled lives—all planned down to the minute—and  make space for things of the spirit.

Thursday is the final night of our parish mission, which was titled “More Than a Story: The Jesus You Never Knew.” The last of our three dynamic speakers is Heather Khym, who will be assisted by her husband Jake Khym. Both have given powerful presentations at Christ the Redeemer in the past.

Heather’s talk, like the others we’ve heard, will be transforming. Not just inspiring, not just uplifting, but transforming. When you hear her, you will echo St. Peter: “Lord it is good for us to be here.”

The mission is offering the blessing promised to Abraham, of whom we are descendants. The mission is revealing the glory of friendship with Jesus, even if you have not known him before.

The gym has been packed for the first two nights of the mission. We’re moving into the church for the final evening so there will be plenty room for those of you who haven’t been able to attend yet.

I understand the reasons for missing the mission. If it’s not a flood, then it’s soccer practice. Tennis lessons. Homework. Business pressures. Kids.

But I also understand—as I know you do—that the disciples had to walk up the mountain before they could see Christ’s glory and the promise of their own glory. I’m sure when they came down the mountain their friends were full of stories of all the fish that got away while they were away being dazzled by the Lord.

Still, you can be sure that they wouldn’t have exchanged their experience for anything.

Will you join us on the mountaintop this Thursday? And bring someone along?

I’ll end with my one-sentence summary. Hope and faith are more important to a good Lent than efforts alone—because it’s God who reveals his glory and grants us the grace of conversion.

Our personal Lenten program—and the Weekly Update lists other activities besides the Mission—should give fresh hope of personal change here and now, and the beginning of our glorious transformation in the life to come.