Creation too is a multiplication (17.B)

Do some of you remember the first day back to school in September, when you had to stand in front of the class and give a little speech called “How I Spent My Summer Vacation”? Well, today’s homily is one of those little speeches—and in light of the heat, the emphasis is on “little.”

I just got back from a week in majestic Haida Gwaii, the archipelago formerly known as the Queen Charlotte Islands. Whether on the water or in the woods, I spent a lot of time thinking about what Pope Francis calls “the Gospel of Creation” in his encyclical Laudato Si', “On Care for Our Common Home.”

Today’s Gospel, the multiplication of the loaves and fish, usually leads me to preach on the Eucharist, which is prefigured by this miracle. But it also brings to mind the broader subject of the abundance of all God’s generous gifts.

In his plan for creation, God did not give humanity just what it needed to survive; he gave us what we needed, many times over, if only we would exercise wise stewardship.

St. John Paul said that God has written a precious book, using for characters “the multitude of created things present in the universe”. And the Canadian bishops have reminded us that nature continuously reveals the divine. In 2003, they wrote “From panoramic vistas to the tiniest living form, nature is a constant source of wonder and awe.”

This is hardly new theology. The Scriptures tells us many times that creation shows forth God’s glory, and St. Thomas Aquinas teaches that all the diversity and variety of nature show his goodness, since it could not be represented fittingly by any one creature. (cf. Laudato Si', 85 and 86)

And the Catechism teaches: “God wills the interdependence of creatures. The sun and the moon, the cedar and the little flower, the eagle and the sparrow: the spectacle of their countless diversities and inequalities tells us that no creature is self-sufficient. Creatures exist only in dependence on each other, to complete each other, in the service of each other.” (n. 340)

My holiday made all this easier to understand. 

But is also made me realize what Pope Francis means when he writes about the kind of environmental exploitation that exhausts the resources local communities have relied on and “undo the social structures which, for a long time, shaped cultural identity and their sense of the meaning of life and community.”

The Pope says that the disappearance of a culture can be just as serious, or even more serious, than the disappearance of a species of plant or animal. 

He calls us to show special care for indigenous communities and their cultural traditions, which happily seems to be what is happening in Haida Gwaii, where archaeological evidence suggests the Haida people have lived for some 13,000 years.

The abundance of these islands—in timber, fish, wildlife—is truly a Gospel of Creation, a story of God’s abundant provision for his children. But much of its history is also a history of what Pope Francis calls “the sin of indifference.”

And that is a sin we can commit in many ways, whether by the thoughtless exploitation of the gifts of creation, by a lack of gratitude for their abundance, or by taking for granted the Bread of Life, the most generous gift of all.

Another Rescue, A Different Cave (15.B)

For two weeks the world held its breath.

For two weeks we tried to picture twelve boys and a young soccer coach entombed in darkness.

And for two days we marveled at the courage of their rescuers, especially the diver Saman Gunan, who died in the rescue attempt, just 38 years old.

The BBC called this “a remarkable story of friendship, human endurance—and the lengths some people will go to save someone else's child.”

But as we gather for Mass this morning, we recognize that it’s something more. The rescue effort, and the sacrifice of Saman Gunan, should bring to mind another rescue and another sacrifice. We hear about it in our second reading today.

“In Christ,” St. Paul writes, “we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished upon us.”

We’ve heard the word “redemption” so many times that perhaps we forget the drama behind it. We have been freed from the darkness of our sins by someone who came to find us and to lead us into the light.

And just as the Thai diver died in the darkness of the cave, so Jesus died in the course of our rescue—and stayed in a cave until our salvation was completed by his Resurrection.

Those twelve boys had families, with whom they will soon be reunited. Their rescuers didn’t take them home with them. But our rescuer, St. Paul says, has adopted us as his own. We emerged into the light as members of God’s own family.

And In his first letter, St. Peter calls us to proclaim the great work of our Saviour, who called us out of darkness into his marvellous light.

I’ve read some on-line comments about the possible negative effects that their ordeal may have on the boys’ psychology. The best antidote to that is gratitude; I hope they will spend the rest of their lives giving thanks for their rescue and their rescuers.

And we are called to do the same. Jesus sends us out to the world, just as he sent the Twelve, to share gratefully with others the Good News of our rescue and our Rescuer.

 Illustration from BBC News.

Grace is Enough for Timid Preachers or Rebellious Hearers (14.B)

At the Masses last week, day after day we heard the prophet Amos denouncing Israel for her sins. Those Old Testament readings prompted me to give a slightly tongue-in-cheek homily on Thursday.

I told the congregation that I knew just how to get moved if I ever got tired of being pastor at Christ the Redeemer (not that it could ever happen!).  I said if I wanted a change, I could make it happen in just three weeks.

The first Sunday I would preach a very tough homily on contraception. On the second I would preach an uncompromising homily on same-sex marriage and the homosexual lifestyle. By the second week I’d probably be run off the property—either by angry Catholics or the human rights police— but if not, I’d preach a third homily about a collection of other Church teachings on private morality or social justice.

That homily made one sincere parishioner ask me “well, why aren’t you preaching those bold homilies?”

I explained that I was exaggerating a bit, and that I do actually speak about tough topics from time to time. But I added that the main reason I don’t give fire and brimstone homilies is simply that I preach in front of a congregation that includes many children. Sometimes I wish we had a Liturgy of the Word for all those under 16, giving priests the freedom to speak plainly and boldly about certain topics.

The first reading today presents the prophetic call of Ezekiel, who doesn’t have the luxury of making any excuses. He isn’t given any choice in the matter. God doesn’t seem concerned about the results of Ezekiel’s preaching. All God wants is for Israel to hear His word. The rest is up to the people, not the prophet.

You and I are in the same boat in the modern world. We’re pretty sure how our friends and neighbours—and even our children—are going to react when God sends us to speak His word to them. But it’s not really our problem: the end result, the free response of others to the Christian message, is God’s concern.

The same thing comes across in today’s Gospel. Jesus is also a prophet, and like many of the Old Testament prophets, he will be rejected and killed. Even the residents of Nazareth, who know him and his family, take offense at him.

The message of these two readings is simple enough. Don’t think you can be an authentic witness to Christ without causing offense. It’s neither possible nor required.

In last week’s I mentioned the Canadian bishops’ statement lamenting the legalization of marijuana.  During the homily a young man whom I know and like gave me a look that could kill straight across the church. And, to his credit, after Mass he told me what he thought.

Now I hasten to add that the interaction hardly made me feel like Ezekiel or Amos or Jesus.  But I still have to say I preferred hearing “great homily Monsignor” to the conversation I had with the young man.

The point is, it doesn’t matter. Watering down or avoiding the truth in order to avoid negative reactions is not what God wants us to do—whether we are pastors, called by ordination to preach, or lay Christians, anointed to the prophetic office through baptism and strengthened for it by confirmation.

When I explained to the parishioner last week that my preaching is restrained by the presence of youngsters, I added a second reason—that Catholics expect the Sunday homily never runs longer than ten minutes. You can’t even warm up in ten minutes if you want to preach a convincing sermon on contraception or other complex moral topics.

But if I’m really honest with myself, a lack of courage does have something to do with it. I’m afraid of the reaction from some, or unwilling to face the rejection that goes with a prophet’s job.

So perhaps we could both work towards more prophetic homilies in the parish. I could learn to be more like St. Paul, content with weaknesses, insults and persecution. And we could all pray for open hearts ready to hear without offense the prophetic message of Jesus.

Whether we’re fearful speakers or rebellious listeners, God’s power and grace are sufficient to overcome our weakness.

No Upbeat Homily for Canada Day

Canada Day only falls on Sunday once every seven years. That’s an opportunity for an upbeat homily about our beautiful country and our many blessings. But not this year—because we need to take a look at some things that are happening in Canada and what they mean for Christians.

I know you’d rather hear a homily celebrating Canada than criticizing it; so would I. But a friend sent me a quotation this week attributed to Archbishop Fulton Sheen, who was not only America’s best preacher but a 20th century prophet. When I read it, I knew I couldn’t deliver a feel-good sermon today.

Long quotations don’t make good homilies, but I’m asking you to listen carefully to these prophetic words:

Humanity in a crisis is generally insensitive to the gravity of the times in which it lives.

Men do not want to believe their own times are wicked, partly because they have no standard outside of themselves by which to measure their times. If there is no fixed concept of justice, how shall men know it is violated?

Only those who live by faith really know what is happening in the world; the great masses without faith are unconscious of the destructive processes going on because they have lost the vision of the heights from which they have fallen.

I don’t think one Canadian in ten thinks we have a problem in this country. And I do think that most of those who recognize the destructive processes at work are people of faith.

But even men and women of faith often fail to understand the heights from which Canadian society has tumbled, because our fall from Christian morality has happened in slow motion—not from one cause but from many.

We could analyze numerous social shifts that are opposed to Gospel values—for that matter, opposed to the values shared by most major religions—but I want to point out three of the most recent.

The first, of course, is euthanasia. Disguised by the Orwellian name “Medical Assistance in Dying,” the legalization of assisted suicide threatens the vulnerable, draws health care workers in to a moral snare, and creates an entirely false idea of compassion. It should not be necessary to remind people at Sunday Mass that assisted suicide can never be the right choice, but our first reading puts it simply: “God does not delight in the death of the living.”

Life is a good in and of itself— God “created all things so that they might exist.” All life is precious; its value is not measured by the so-called “quality of life” or anything of that sort.

We were created for eternity, and it is in eternity that the quality of life will more than compensate for the struggles some people encounter at the end of their life on earth.

Before turning to the second social shift—I should really call these legal shifts—I want to give you another reason for this somber homily on what should be a joyful day. The reason is simply this: law-abiding people, people like us, tend to think that if something’s legal is must be right. Law not only reflects social values, it creates them.

Archbishop Carney once told me that chicken wasn’t subject to meat rationing during the Second World War. As a result, Catholics—who were not allowed to eat meat on Friday—started to eat chicken, since if the government said it wasn’t meat, it must be true.

The second shift is the redefinition of tolerance. Canadians pride themselves on tolerance. American comedians on the late-night shows make jokes about how nice we are. But my dictionary says that to tolerate means “to allow the existence or occurrence of  something, without interference.”

The courts have redefined tolerance in numerous decisions interfering with the freedom of people of faith. The most recent may be the most serious: the Supreme Court of Canada has effectively allowed the legal profession to be closed to graduates of a law school where students must commit to live according to the moral norms that were once universally held by all Christians. In the words of the two dissenting judges, the Court has turned the protective shield of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms into a sword.

And there’s not much doubt which group of Canadians that sword will slash.

The third source of sadness on this Canada Day may surprise you, since it’s hardly as grave as the euthanasia or Trinity Western decisions. But as I told you, I'm focusing on the most recent social shifts, and this one’s also current—the court-ordered legalization of marijuana, now enshrined in law.

Just last week, the Canadian bishops issued a statement reminding Catholics of the harm that will flow from increased marijuana use. They cite the Canadian Medical Association, the Canadian Psychiatric Association, and the Canadian Paediatric Society as pointing out how “the use of cannabis is linked to addictions, depression, anxiety, psychosis, damage to brain development, and lung problems such as asthma and emphysema.”

Although I didn’t use marijuana, I grew up hearing that it was not addictive. That was a lie or at least a huge mistake in terms of what we know now. The bishops rely on modern science and the modern understanding of addictions when they say marijuana “is an addictive substance that will have disastrous effects” for many people.

There was a time when a Canadian who didn’t break the law would be following God’s law in most matters. Sadly, tragically, that time has passed. Only the Creator’s law can guide us now to the good life, and to the righteousness that leads to life eternal.

It is truer than ever that “Only those who live by faith really know what is happening in the world; the great masses without faith are unconscious of the destructive processes going on because they have lost the vision of the heights from which they have fallen.”

So on this Canada Day, let’s not only pray for the nation, but lift up our eyes to the lofty vision of creation and the human person that is our heritage as Canadians and Christians.

Whether we are at home or away... (11B)

Since this is Father’s Day, I find myself thinking about my Dad and the lessons he taught me.  It wasn’t hard to decide the most important of them:  “Do what your Mother tells you!”

And she always tells me “Dear, you have to tell the parishioners where you went when you go away for a weekend.”

I said “What on earth for?  We have two priests here.”

“Because I don’t want to hear any complaints,” my mother replied!

Her advice was good, and not just because it avoids complaints.  It’s good because my absences can help us talk about the Christian attitude to travel and holidays.

This is a good time for that, since in our second reading St. Paul says whether we are at home or away, we seek to please the Lord. 

(Of course his overall message is not about travelling—the Apostle is talking about the trip from earth to Heaven—but his words lead us to a very simple lesson as summer approaches.  Whether we are at home or away we must continue to live the Christian life.)

It’s tempting to see our holidays as total freedom—no obligations, including Sunday Mass—except you can’t go on holiday from something so central to our existence. Some of us have tried taking holidays from exercise, healthy eating, and disciplined sleep, which is nothing but a losing formula.

Pope Benedict was speaking to priests when he said rest, too, is pastoral work. He quotes the words of Jesus "Come away by yourselves to a lonely place, and rest a while" (Mk 6: 31). The Pope even says we priests need to find and to have the humility, the courage to rest.

 All of us can benefit from his wisdom if we understand that it means vacations, restful Sundays, and even daily breaks are part of the healthy human existence that God wills.

We need, wherever possible, not only to find rest in our vacations but also renewal.  Vacations can be a time for a period of daily prayer as a family that may be difficult in ordinary circumstances.  This may be a time to say the Rosary after supper because—for once—all the kids are at the table and none of them has a soccer practice.  Depending where you take a holiday, you may be able to attend daily Mass—especially if there’s a parish nearby where Mass is later in the morning or in the evening.

Reading is an important part of holidays for many people, including me.  I was really shocked by an article in The Globe and Mail recently.  The headline was “I Have Forgotten How to Read.”  It wasn’t by someone with a head injury or other ailment, but a piece by an author who had finally recognized that his lifestyle and the impact of the internet had slowly robbed him of the pleasure of curling up for a few hours with a good book.

Having the right book with you on a vacation is a key part to rediscovering the joys of reading.  Having the right spiritual book can help reignite our faith during our vacation from all the usual distractions of life.  There may be many parishioners—judging from sales in our little book shop, and loans from our library—who have never read a spiritual book.  If you’re one of those I invite you to check out the books in gift shop and the library today.  If you don’t see something that catches your interest, just ask me, and I will suggest something you will truly enjoy beside a lake or on a plane. 

Whenever possible we should look for blessings when we travel—new friends, new ideas, new knowledge.  And that brings us back to my recent travels.  In less than two weeks I was in three dioceses; and in each of them I was reminded that our parish exists within a communion of churches; we are part of something much bigger than ourselves. 

When we holiday outside of Vancouver we get a small taste of this as we discover that things are done differently elsewhere—sometimes better, sometimes worse—but always in the great communion of the Catholic Church.  Parishioners come back with ideas, and sometimes even with a sense of relief!  But we are always strengthened to know that our local community is but a part of the great Church of Christ.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus talks to us about the kingdom of God.  In another place he tells us that the kingdom of God is among us—right here, right at Christ the Redeemer parish. But today he reminds us that the kingdom also thrives and flourishes on a grand scale, offering shade and shelter to all people.

Everything we do, from work to play, is part of our human and spiritual growth, and part of our contribution to building up the Kingdom of God on earth.

And certainly our labours for a better world are a key aspect of this. Every so often you’ll hear in the media about “anti-abortion” groups.  While there may be such groups, I’ve never really met them. Pro-life groups and pro-life people—including those who support today’s second collection—are promoting the culture of life.

Our goal must be greater than ending abortion. As our Prayer for Reverence for Life shows, we praise God for life at every stage, and commit ourselves to its defense.

Few things are more important to the Kingdom than the family, and on Father’s Day we should note that a Kingdom needs citizens; without the family, and the important work of fathers, God’s plan for the world could never succeed.

So whether we are at home, or away, let us make it our aim to please God in all things, and to build a kingdom of truth, justice and love.

Some of the ideas in this homily made their way to the Sunday bulletin the following week. 

The Fulfillment of All Desire (Corpus Christi)

It has been a great joy to have spent the last five days with Ralph Martin.  He was here for our Parish Mission—you can read about it in last week’s bulletin, which also provides biographical information for anyone who is unfamiliar with Ralph and the many blessings he has brought to the Church.

And this weekend he gave the annual retreat to the  members of the permanent diaconate community in the Archdiocese of Vancouver.

I’ve known Ralph for more than twenty years.  I first met him when he came to give a talk in Vancouver, but he first influenced me forty years ago when his book Hungry for God (1974) taught me the priceless lesson that progress in prayer is the result of God’s gift, not my effort.

Nine years later Ralph wrote Crisis of Truth: The Attack on Faith, Morality and Mission in the Catholic Church (1983).  I read it in the seminary and discovered that life in the Church was probably going to be more difficult than I had thought.  The errors he exposed in that book became increasingly evident in the Church over the next twenty years.

Despite the influence and importance of these and many other books I think most people consider his finest work to be The Fulfillment of All Desire (2006).  Subtitled ‘A Guidebook for the Journey to God Based on the Wisdom of the Saints’ it is “destined to be a modern classic on the spiritual life.”  (An excellent accompanying Study Guide [2010] is also available.)

On this Feast of Corpus Christi “the fulfillment of all desire” is a perfect theme for a homily. 

I could easily devote this homily to the word “fulfillment.”  In fact, St. Thomas Aquinas calls the Eucharist “the fulfillment of ancient figures and the greatest of all his miracles.”  Fulfillment is a one-word summary of what the Scriptures tell us today.

The First Reading describes sacrifices—specifically, communion sacrifices—that are intended to solemnize a Covenant: a Covenant sealed in blood.  The blood is first poured on the altar, which represents God.  Then it is splashed on the people, uniting them to the blood on the altar.

In this Exodus account, “a union has been created from this blood relationship” and  “the terms for preserving that relationship are spelled out” (The Collegeville Bible Commentary, p. 105).

Every ten-year-old Christian knows what happens next.  Before Moses is even down the mountain the people have already begun to worship the golden calf.  To say that this Covenant is on shaky ground  is an understatement.

But the Letter to the Hebrews shows us how the Blood of Christ initiates a new and perfect covenant.  If there’s any doubt about that, we have the words of Jesus in the Gospel today “This is my Blood of the Covenant.”

Fulfillment. Pure and simple.

But the word that really inspires my thoughts today is ‘desire.’  It seems to me that the Eucharist must be desired to have its full effect in our lives, and that offers us an opportunity today to ask ourselves whether the Eucharist truly is the fulfillment of our desire. 

Do we long for it?  Do we hunger for it? 

We should. St. Thomas not only calls the Sacrament the fulfillment of ancient figures and the greatest of all Christ’s miracles—in the same sentence he called it a “unique and abiding” consolation.

Priests and deacons have a bird’s eye view on this question.  We ourselves can experience routine and over-familiarity.  And giving Holy Communion to hundreds of people every Sunday we sometimes wonder how many people approaching the altar have any of the feelings that St. Thomas expressed when he wrote “O precious and wonderful banquet that brings us salvation, contains all sweetness.”  Do we experience what Thomas called “spiritual delight, tasted at its very source”?

One of the Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion in the parish told me she sometimes feels sad at the absent-minded expressions on the faces of those who stand before her.  Of course it’s not what’s on our face, but what’s in our heart that matters.  Still it’s easy to wonder why we don’t look a little more enthusiastic, a little more reverent, or even slightly awestruck as we approach the table of the Lord.

In the pews you will find the prayer St. Thomas wrote in preparation for the reception of Holy Communion.  These cards have been in the pews for some weeks now; I’m not sure how many people have used them, but when we finally get the screens up and running I hope to project this prayer at least some of the time—so that it might increase our desire for this saving Sacrament; so that it might help us to hunger for the Bread of Angels; and so that it might help us to receive not only the Sacrament but also its full grace and power.

Thanksgiving after Communion is very important, and St. Thomas wrote a prayer for that too.  But somehow I think we need most to excite desire in our hearts each time we approach the Eucharist.  And so I wonder whether on this great Feast you might join me in the prayer of St. Thomas Aquinas you find in the pew under the heading “Prayer before Mass.”

Almighty and Eternal God, behold I come to the sacrament of Your only-begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.  As one sick I come to the Physician of life; unclean, to the Fountain of mercy; blind, to the Light of eternal splendor; poor and needy to the Lord of heaven and earth.  Therefore, I beg of You, through Your infinite mercy and generosity, heal my weakness, wash my uncleanness, give light to my blindness, enrich my poverty, and clothe my nakedness. May I thus receive the Bread of Angels, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, with such reverence and humility, contrition and devotion, purity and faith, purpose and intention, as shall aid my soul’s salvation.

Grant, I beg of You, that I may receive not only the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of our Lord, but also its full grace and power. Give me the grace, most merciful God, to receive the Body of your only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, born of the Virgin Mary, in such a manner that I may deserve to be intimately united with His mystical Body and to be numbered among His members. Most loving Father, grant that I may behold for all eternity face to face Your beloved Son, whom now, on my pilgrimage, I am about to receive under the sacramental veil, who lives and reigns with You, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, world without end. Amen.

A Video on Pentecost? Really?

The readings today are extraordinarily rich. The first reading is the dramatic story of the birthday of the Church. The marvel of the first Pentecost is repeated every day, since the Church continues to speak “in the language of every people.”

The Psalm moved us from that historic and continuing miracle to a personal response. We begged the Lord to send the Spirit on the whole world, but also on us as we meditate and rejoice in the Lord.

Then we heard part of St. Paul’s teaching on gifts. In this short passage, the Apostle uses three different Greek words to discuss the Spirit’s gifts. They get a bit lost in translation, but let’s take a look at each.

He uses the word charismata, which you will recognize from the English words charism or charismatic. These are gifts of grace, which Paul connects with the Holy Spirit. The translation here is simply “gifts.”

He uses the word diakonia, which you will recognize from the English words deacon or diaconate. These are gifts of service, which Paul connects with the Lord. Here the translation is “services.”

Thirdly, St. Paul speaks of energemata. Recognize that one? Of course you do—it gives us our word energy. Translated as “activities.” these are gifts of works. St. Paul connects them with God the Father, the first cause of all things.

Gifts of grace, gifts of service, and gifts of works. All from God, and all from baptism.

Happily, in the divine plan not every Christian is given every gift or called to every work. Each has gifts, though, and each has a call.

At first I was not happy when I realized we’d need to show the Project Advance video on this great feast day. We’ve had technical problems and the new video screens were not ready earlier; even now they’re only temporary. But the campaign is well-underway, and we couldn’t keep putting off the video, which this year is particularly good.

However, when I thought about St. Paul’s teaching on gifts of service and gifts of works, I knew it was meant to be. Gifts don’t exist in a vacuum. They need to bear fruit, to accomplish their purpose. And in our parish and Archdiocese it’s Project Advance that makes these gifts make a difference.