New Beginnings: Never Alone (Trinity B)

 

Halfway through the Second World War, Prime Minister Winston Churchill said “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

We all hope that we are more than halfway through the Great Pandemic. We hope that we’ve reached the beginning of the end.

But spiritually, we’re not even at the end of the beginning. Our limited return to church is a beginning, a new start, but there are many more beginnings ahead—for our parish and for each of us.

Are you ready for something new? Has the desert of the lockdown made you thirstier for the living water?

We missed celebrating Easter, Ascension, and Pentecost together. But in some ways Trinity Sunday is a perfect day to open our doors again—because today’s readings invite us to walk through the doors of faith.

During Eastertide we recalled the Pascal Mystery.  The liturgy called us to enter into the suffering, the death, and the Resurrection of Christ.

Taking nothing away from those profound events, we celebrate today what the Catechism calls “the central mystery of the Christian faith and of Christian life.” (CCC 265)

Liturgically, Trinity Sunday does not rank with Easter. But theologically it outranks it! Otherwise, how could we call the Holy Trinity “the central mystery of the Christian faith and of Christian life”?

We had hoped to baptize our new Christians on Easter. The abrupt closure of the church put a stop to that, although we managed it soon after. We wanted to confirm our new Catholics and receive them into full communion with the Church on Pentecost, the feast of the Holy Spirit. Foiled again!

But when it comes to appropriate readings from the Scriptures, today’s Mass has everything we will need to welcome our two newest parishioners and to inspire three others who already belong to the community to join them in receiving the Sacrament of Confirmation at the noon Mass. All five have journeyed together in the R.C.I.A. program.

The first reading gives marching orders to the soon-to-be-confirmed (and all of us!). Acknowledge today that the Lord is God of heaven and earth. And keep his commandments. Fundamental direction for the life of faith.

But Moses doesn’t say follow the marching orders blindly. Keep God’s law for your own good. There’s a promise, a blessing, imbedded in moral living, in the obedient life of faith.

Basic stuff, but glorious. And then we come to the second reading. We plunge deeper into the wonder of life in the Spirit. Moses told the Israelites they would inherit the Promised Land; St. Paul promises Christians still more: they will inherit all that God possesses.

Why is Paul promising so much more than Moses? The answer is simple: our inheritance comes not only from being members of God’s people, but from being members of God’s family.

When I baptized Soney and Lukas recently they became Christians. When I receive Megan and Jacob into full communion with the Church today, they will become Catholics. Wonderful—but there’s something more wonderful: Soney and Lukas and Megan and Jacob, and Carolina and Alex and Brooke, Catholics whom I will confirm today, are sons and daughters of God.

And not these seven only—our second reading teaches that in baptism every one of us has received a spirit of adoption by which we are made children of God, heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ, the Son of God.

Elsewhere, in the Letter to the Romans, St. Paul says “God’s love has been poured into our hearts though the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

And Jesus himself says “Those who love me will keep my word, and the Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” (Jn 14:23)

Summing that all up, the Catechism teaches “we are called to be a dwelling for the Most Holy Trinity.”  I quoted that a few weeks back in my homily on the fifth Sunday of Easter.

What more could God have done to share his own life with us—to draw us into the relationship of Father, Son and Holy Spirit?

What more could God have done to heal our wounds and overcome our fears than to allow his Spirit within us to affirm us as daughters and sons?

The answer to the question “what more?” is easy. Nothing!

But what about the question “why?” Why did God choose to make a dwelling in our souls?

I think it was to fulfill a promise Jesus made: “I will not leave you orphans.” God himself, as a Trinity of persons, is never alone, and neither are we.  

Through baptism we are called into an intimate communion with Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

But that’s not all.  We are called into communion with all our adopted brothers and sisters—and called to invite others to join that family.

 In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us to make disciples. He’s saying “invite others into this joyful communion with me and with you.” The gift of the Father, Son, and Spirit, dwelling in the depth of our being, is too wonderful to keep to ourselves. Jesus invites us to imitate his generosity and continue his mission.

It’s a mission for all time and every place, but it’s especially urgent right now. An article on loneliness in this morning’s Province has the headline “What good is a green city if everyone has the blues?”

The writer says that Vancouver has a unique loneliness problem.

At the very beginning of the Bible, God says “it is not good that the man should be alone.” (Gn 2:18) While God solved that problem mainly by the creation of woman, the words have a broader application.

No-one is meant to be alone. No Christian is meant to be alone. We're not alone in suffering, we're not alone in sorrow, and we're not alone in joy. We’re disciples together, making disciples together!

These truths about God dwelling in our hearts and calling us to mission are not abstract. In an attractive and interesting way, our new parish magazine tells the story of how we’re walking the discipleship path together. If you are registered in the parish, you received a copy on Friday or will receive one this week.

Step by step, the magazine—which is called “Life in Our Parish”—shows what a great beginning we have made. It brings everyone up to date on how life has continued at Christ the Redeemer during the pandemic, and it traces the path we’ll take as a renewed and reenergized community of faith.

There’s a new beginning just ahead, a rich inheritance to claim, and work to do—never alone, and always with joy.

Something Better Still to Come! (Ascension B.2021)

Just this week, two young adults talked with me about how much they miss Mass. I half suspect that the church closure is harder on the young than the old, partly because watching YouTube is old hat to them but still something of an accomplishment for my age group!

I miss Mass too. Well, I can’t say I miss Mass, of course; I miss the way Mass used to be. In other words, I miss you.

But think about this: how does losing our Sunday gathering compare with what the disciples lost at the Ascension?

We’ve had to say goodbye to our weekly Eucharist together. They said goodbye to Jesus.

Isn’t that massively worse than anything we’re dealing with? Wasn’t the Ascension the worst day in the apostles’ lives, after the Crucifixion?

When the disciples met to break bread after the Resurrection, Jesus was at the head of the table. They ate and drank with him. And then he left.

It seems obvious that this should have been a very dark day. And maybe it was—there is something a bit pathetic about the disciples staring up at the sky after Jesus has ascended.

But only for a day. Only for a day.

What followed the Ascension was so amazing that it left no room for disappointment, no lasting loss. You all know why: the Lord’s departure was followed almost immediately by the Spirit’s arrival.

Even before his death,  Jesus told his followers “I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.” (Jn 16:7)

Since this is key to what I’m saying today, I’ll repeat that in a translation that uses simpler language: “I am telling you the truth: it is better for you that I go away, because if I do not go, the Helper will not come to you. But if I do go away, then I will send him to you.”  

Let’s just stop for a second and think about that. Jesus says it is to our advantage, it is better for us, that he leaves.

Come on! He’s going to disappear but something better will follow? What on earth could be better? Jesus was the most wonderful, comforting, generous, gracious, interesting, intelligent person who ever walked on earth. On top of that, he was God.

How can it be better that the Lord vanish from sight?

We have to accept the answer he himself gives us—because unless he goes the Spirit will not come.

Obviously, the Advocate, the Helper, the Comforter—all words that name the Holy Spirit—is so marvelous, so splendid a gift, that he can replace what the disciples lost when Jesus departed.

This is crucial for any Christian. We can only guess what it was like to walk and talk and eat and pray with Jesus. There’s no way we will ever share that experience with his earthly followers. It’s not God’s plan.

But there is no reason—no reason at all—to think that the first disciples’ experience of the Holy Spirit was intended to be any different than our own. That is God’s plan.

Some things about the apostolic age were very different from today. Miracles, for instance, regularly demonstrated the power of Jesus Christ in the early Church. And the first Pentecost was accompanied by visible flames, something we haven’t seen since—much to the relief of bishops and priests as they administer Confirmation.

But apart from the miraculous tongues of fire, there’s just no reason to think that the Holy Spirit was given to the first Christians in some unique way or for some unique purpose. What they received, we can receive; what they experienced, we can experience.

If you or I have not encountered the Advocate, if we have not received the power that the Risen Lord promised his disciples in today’s first reading, the difference lies in us, not in God.

If we can’t relate to what St. Paul is talking about in the second reading—if our hearts aren’t enlightened, if we don’t know the hope to which we are called, and we know neither the riches of God’s glorious inheritance nor the immeasurable greatness of his power—it’s not because those are first-century-only things.

Yes, the first Christians were blessed uniquely by knowing Jesus in the flesh. But they got a still greater blessing—he’s the one who said so—when he sent them his Spirit.

That greater blessing is ours. Again, if we haven’t received it, it’s not because God didn’t offer it.

The Risen Jesus promises the disciples that they will be baptized with the Holy Spirit. Clearly, he is speaking of the entire experience of Pentecost, something the Church has traditionally identified with the sacrament of Confirmation.

In recent decades, there has been more thought given to what it means to be baptized with the Holy Spirit. Is it only the sacrament of Confirmation? And if so, why is the average Catholic's experience of that sacrament so different from the first Pentecost?

Beginning with St. John XXIII right up to Pope Francis, our Popes have prayed for a new Pentecost in the life of our Church. What are they hoping for?

Baptism in the Holy Spirit is one answer. We can define it as “a life-transforming experience of the love of God the Father poured into one’s heart by the Holy Spirit, received through a surrender to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. It brings alive the sacramental graces of baptism and confirmation, deepens communion with God and with fellow Christians, enkindles evangelistic fervor and equips a person with charisms for service and mission.” (Baptism in the Holy Spirit, International Catholic Charismatic Renewal Services Doctrinal Commission)

That’s an approved theological statement. But it’s a whole lot more. It describes what God wants to give every one of us. This baptism in the Holy Spirit can be everything the first Christians experienced. It can bring to life the graces we were given in baptism and confirmation, deepen our relationship with God and our brothers and sisters, and give us zeal for the Gospel.

 Most of all, this life-transforming experience equips us with the gifts we need to serve and to become part of the mission of the Church. In other words, it is the Spirit’s power that makes it possible for us to live today’s Gospel—to proclaim the Good News as Jesus commands.

Does it sound good to you? Do you want this outpouring of the Spirit that is even better than the human presence of Jesus? If so, where can it be found?

Many roads lead to the baptism in the Holy Spirit. For many years, the Life in the Spirit seminar was the best-known way to receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit. It is still a sure path.

But I can say that much of what we do as a parish aims at “a life-transforming experience of the love of God the Father poured into one’s heart by the Holy Spirit, received through a surrender to the Lordship of Jesus Christ,” as the statement says that I quoted earlier.

Alpha’s “Holy Spirit Saturday” is nothing less than an invitation to surrender to God and experience the fullness of the Spirit. Our faith studies also lead in the same direction.

We’d be wearing black vestments today, or at least purple, if the Ascension was a one-way feast. Happily, joyfully, it was not. The Lord went up to heaven. And, as we’ll celebrate next Sunday, his Spirit came down on earth. 

In Baptism God Comes to Dwell in our Hearts

I preached twice this Sunday, first at our livestream Sunday Mass, and then at a small Mass with the two young adults whose baptism had been postponed when churches were abruptly closed just before Easter.

Soney and Lukas,

This is the third homily I have written for you! I hope it’s the last!

First, we had the disappointment of the cancelled Easter Vigil, just days before it was to happen. Then, because of our brief Covid scare, the frustrating cancellation a week later, just minutes before we were to begin.

Well, there’s no stopping you now! About the only thing that could happen is an earthquake, in which case I’ll meet you in the parking lot with the holy water in hand.

You’ve heard the old saying “every cloud has a silver lining.” That’s just a less religious version of what St. Paul says in his Letter to the Romans: “God works for good in all things, for those who love him.”

I am convinced that God has worked for good along the bumpy road to your baptism and confirmation.

First, you’ve developed a hunger and thirst for the living water of baptism and the other sacraments. Like the woman who met Jesus at the well, and said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”

Second, you’ve learned something about life in the Church. She doesn’t always make things easy for us. We move in God’s time, not ours.

Third, you’ve had a lot of time to think about what Easter means. The three Sundays since April 3 have all been a replay of the Resurrection. You’ve had extra time to think about how the suffering, death, and rising of the Lord connect to your baptism.

Sure, you could be baptized any time, but there is just no time like this Easter season. St. Paul puts it quite bluntly: “If Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.”

No Resurrection, no baptism.

Finally, because we’re gathered on the Fifth Sunday of Easter you get to hear today’s remarkable Gospel. It’s not about the Risen Lord but about something else. Something so important I call it the best-kept secret of Christianity.

Our Gospel reading today tells us something that even our fine RCIA program might not have taught you.

Jesus says he will abide with us if we abide with him. Abide has several meanings, but what it means here is that he will live with us—that God will make his home right within our hearts.

There are so many exciting things about baptism! It washes away original sin, opens the door to the other sacraments, especially the Eucharist, and makes us members of Christ’s Body the Church. In baptism we become a new creation, we are born again.

But tucked away among all those wonderful things is the promise Jesus makes in today’s Gospel reading: to abide in you, to live in your souls. A bit earlier in St. John’s Gospel, he makes this even clearer: “Those who love me will keep my words, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.”

Let me share some words from MotherAgnes Mary Donovan, who leads the Sisters of Life. She could be talking to you, Soney and Lukas, at this very moment:

At your Baptism, the living God [comes] to dwell in your heart, to fill it with the Love you have been searching for from the moment you came to be.

Jesus prayed, “Father, they are Your gift to Me. I wish that where I am they also may be with Me” (Jn 17:24). God doesn’t want to be with you just because He loves you, but because He rejoices over you — the real, unique, and unrepeatable you.

In just a few moments, Jesus will fulfill his promise to abide in you. And His Holy Spirit will deepen the indwelling of Father and Son—an intimate relationship strengthened each time you receive the Eucharist.

Perhaps all that is more than you expected. But it’s no less than what God is offering you, right now.

God's Indwelling Presence (Easter 5.B)

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house.

At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised.

But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to?

The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards.

You thought you were going to be made into a nice little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.

That's from Mere Christianity, the classic book by the remarkable Anglican writer C.S. Lewis. (I spied the quotation in Imprint, the inspiring and attractive magazine of the Sisters of Life.)

Lewis’s words are almost all we need as a homily on this morning’s Gospel. If we connect them to what Jesus is saying, our hearts will open to the best-kept secret of our Christian faith.

What is that secret? Simply this: that “we are called to be a dwelling for the Most Holy Trinity.” I didn’t write that either—it’s straight from the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Of course, Jesus reveals the secret in the words we’ve just heard, but in a more roundabout way. Just as Lewis uses a house as a metaphor, Jesus uses a vine.

He also uses a word that isn’t all that familiar to us. The word is “abide,” and it appears eight times in this short Gospel passage. But when we hear it nowadays, it’s usually in a sentence like “I really can’t abide him” or “I guess I have to abide by the decision.”

Those uses have nothing to do with what Jesus is saying. The translators have used abide in its old-fashioned meaning: to live or to dwell.

We can easily understand “abide” in this context if we think about “abode,” a word we still use in its original meaning. We know what an abode is, don’t we—it’s a home.

If it’s still a bit had to take Jesus at his word, all we need to do is flip back a page in the Bible, because in the previous chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus says “Those who love me will keep my words, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.”

C.S. Lewis was on the money: God wants us to become a dwelling in which he can live. He wants to live in us.

Let’s talk briefly about what it takes to be house fit for God. Lewis speaks of God reconstructing us; although Jesus was a carpenter, he sticks with agriculture and talks about pruning and bearing fruit.

If we are to make space in our souls for Jesus, we need to remain connected to him so that we may be pruned and purified from sin. There’s no secret about that. But earlier I said that the indwelling of the Trinity in our souls can be called a well-kept secret.

Father James Brent, a young Dominican theologian, was asked recently whether people know about this wonderful truth.

Here’s his answer: “I’ve travelled the country and preached to many audiences, many different people, and this comes as news to a lot of Catholics. I hate to say it. Some people have a kind of very vague awareness, but it’s not front and center in their consciousness. And the Church wants this to be front and center.” (This too is from Imprint.)

Not only the Church, but Jesus himself, judging by what he says in today’s Gospel. He wants to live in us; he desires to make his home in us—not as a reward for good behaviour, but so that we can experience in the most intimate way possible his love for us and his presence in our lives.

There’s no doubt that this is a deep theological truth. But how to make it real in our lives?

Father Brent offers a simple answer: The single most practical thing that you and I can do is make acts of faith. Say often: “Jesus, I believe in You”; “Holy Trinity, I believe You dwell in my soul.” That’s where it all begins. And then we need a lot of silence in our life.

“We do this by first becoming aware of the indwelling, and then by taking advantage of the silence and time for prayer that we’ve been given. Any kind of prayer is good— lectio divina, the rosary, etc. — but really just believing that the Holy Trinity dwells within you is a good start.”

So let’s start now. We’re three Sundays away from Pentecost, a celebration closely connected to the doctrine of the indwelling presence of the Trinity, and the Sunday after that is Trinity Sunday.

There couldn’t be a better time to prepare our hearts to be a home in which God can live.