Go to Readings for 3rd Sunday of Easter (Year A).

In the season of Easter, our first reading isn’t from the Old Testament, but from the New Testament book of the Acts of the Apostles. We see the early Church wrestling with the challenge of applying the meaning of Jesus and his teachings as the first and second generation of Christians, spreading the good news, led and inspired by the power of the Holy Spirit, as more and more come to believe through them that Jesus indeed is the way, the truth, and the life.

We have one reading from the Old Testament, the Psalm, then in the Gospel, our encounter with the Jesus on the day of his resurrection, then in our first reading, we see Peter preaching on the day of Pentecost, and then a letter of St. Peter to the Church as our second reading, encouraging us and sending us out into our world to continue the work of the Church, to be the continuation of the life, the presence, and the ministry of Jesus to our age, to those around us. “Bloom where you’re planted.”

In our Gospel reading, we read, “That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.” That very day means the same day as the gospel was just talking about. Immediately before our reading is the discovery of the empty tomb, first by the women, and then by Peter.

“And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.” So, they are Jesus’ disciples, they’re walking away from Jerusalem three days after the crucifixion, and Jesus himself joins them. But as we have already seen, Jesus can appear to his disciples in a way that they don’t immediately recognize him. He looks different somehow. We saw it with Mary Magdalene, we’ll see it later with the Apostles on the seashore. We see it here, and we’ll see it in a special way at the end of our gospel reading.

He asked them, “What are you discussing as you walk along?” They stopped, looking downcast. One of them, named Cleopas…” Cleopas, we believe probably to be the same person as Clopas, was a relative of the Holy Family. In John’s Gospel, we see the women standing at the foot of the cross: “Mary, Mary’s sister, the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.” There’s an ambiguity of whether “Mary’s sister, the wife of Clopas” is one person or two people. Ancient interpreters such as Eusebius and St. Jerome interpret this as one person: That Clopas is the brother of Saint Joseph, and his wife is mentioned in Scripture as “the other Mary, the mother of James and Joses,” these men who are elsewhere called the brothers of the Lord. But as we see, they are more precisely cousins of Jesus, and the Blessed Mother’s sister, called “the other Mary,” is more precisely her sister-in-law. Also, many biblical interpreters say that in our Gospel reading for today, the other disciple walking with Cleopas/Clopas on the road to Emmaus might his wife, this same Mary.

Anyway, “Cleopas said to him in reply, ‘Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know of the things that have taken place there in these days?’ And he replied to them, ‘What sort of things?’” Now the scriptures do mention the time that Jesus wept. But they don’t say much about his sense of humor. But here, the irony is so rich. They say to Jesus, “Are you the only one who doesn’t know what just happened?” Who knows better than Jesus himself! Not only what was seen, but what was unseen during his three days in the tomb, his descent to the netherworld, the realm of the dead, and his resurrection. But Jesus just goads them on. “Really? What sort of things happened?”

And they relate the story of Holy Week, and even including the women finding the empty tomb, that morning. And even after that, they had left, downcast, because clearly, to them, three days later was not only merely dead but really most sincerely dead. And they don’t call him Lord or Messiah, but in their disappointment they downgrade him to just “a prophet mighty in deed and word.”

“And he said to them, ‘Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the Scriptures.” Now it doesn’t say that they recognize him yet. But Jesus here gives us our example of Christian biblical interpretation. St. Augustine beautifully said that the New Testament lies hidden in the Old, and the Old is revealed in the New. The Church calls this “typology,” how Jesus shows them how the Old Testament, from Moses through the Prophets, point to Christ as their fulfillment, how the seeds of the Christian faith are planted way back from the beginning, and the figures, events, and words have their spiritual fulfillment through Jesus and the new covenant. We might say this also becomes like the seed of the Sacred Tradition of the Church, not necessarily written down, but they lens by which the Church understands, interprets, and applies the Scriptures.

“And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.” So, if you’re attentive, you’ll recognize this sequence of actions of Jesus with the bread. Because hear it almost every time Jesus does the miraculous feeding of the multitudes, and did the same thing the night of the Last Supper, and he does the same thing in the person of the Priest at every Mass. “On the day before he was to suffer, on the night of the Last Supper, he took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to his disciples.” At the end of the Gospel reading today, it says, “the two recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of bread.” That was the original way of referring to the Eucharist. And what happens in the Eucharist, Jesus makes the bread into his own body, in anticipation of, in connection with, his body being given up on the cross. “Take this, all of you, and eat of it, for this is my body, which will be given up for you.” Sitting with these two disciples, whose minds were opened to understand his revelation, he offers the ritual of the breaking of the bread, the Eucharist, but then what? He vanished from their sight! Was it because Jesus changed his mind and once again prevented them from recognizing him? No. It was so that they would recognize him in the breaking of the bread, in the Eucharist. This is my body. This is how his body is present to us in the Church. A human person is spirit and body. The Holy Spirit is how he continues to be with us in spirit; the Eucharist is how he continues to be with us in body, in the flesh. This is what he wants to open our eyes to see and recognize.

“Then [the two] said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?’ So, they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem.” Remember at the end of John 6, after a miraculous feeding of the multitude, and he is teaching them that his flesh and blood and true food and drink, he says to them, “Does this shock you? What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and life.”

Jesus doesn’t feed us with his crucified and dead flesh, but his risen, supernatural, transfigured flesh, of humanity healed from the effects of sin and death, that those who eat his flesh and drink his blood might abide in him and he in them, us. It is our humanity fed by his flesh renewed by his spirit that gives life, despite appearances. Don’t let the eyes of your flesh deny the true presence of Jesus but let Jesus open your eyes that you recognize him in the breaking of the bread. That is the meaning of “the flesh is of no avail.” He doesn’t say “his flesh,” “my flesh” is of no avail, that would undermine the entire reality of the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection, much less the Eucharist. The limitations of the flesh, your physical eyes that are spiritually blind, let them be opened that you might receive him, be fed and nourished, and be the continuation of his body in the world, your hands and feet, your heart, your words and actions of divine love.

That was just the first day of the week, the day of the resurrection, Sunday, when Jesus broke bread with his disciples. In the morning, before this, as we have seen, was the discovery of the empty tomb. And in the evening, after this, the apostles encounter Jesus in the locked upper room. The evening encounter will then be repeated the following week, with Thomas among them. This series of encounters might be the inspiration for the Church to celebrate Sunday, the “first day”/”eighth day” (the day after the Jewish sabbath, on the 7th day), as the new covenant sabbath, but it doesn’t explicitly say that in the scriptures. On the fiftieth day after that, on the day named for the Greek word for fiftieth, which is Pentecost, we see Peter, after he was reconciled with Jesus on the seashore, after leading the Apostles to select Matthias to replace the empty office of Judas, after having prayed with the Apostles and the Blessed Mother in the upper room, and now newly anointed with the Holy Spirit, Peter, being the outspoken voice of the newly born Church in her identity and mission in the Spirit, proclaims, “This man, [Jesus,] delivered up by the set plan and foreknowledge of God, you killed, using lawless men to crucify him. But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it.” Then he quotes the Psalm that we also proclaimed today, Psalm 16, that David here is speaking not of himself, for David’s tomb was there in Jerusalem. So David was speaking of his successor, a Son of David, King of the Jews, who would be on the Throne of Israel long after him, “[my flesh] will dwell in hope, because you will not abandon my soul to the netherworld, nor will you suffer your holy one to see corruption. You have made known to me the paths of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.” Peter uses this psalm as pointing to Jesus, just as Jesus had taught his disciples to do when he opened their eyes and their hearts to see how the Old Testament is fulfilled in him. And Peter concludes, “God raised this Jesus; of this we are all witnesses. Exalted at the right hand of God…” adding apostolic witness to the authority of Scripture.

At the conclusion (which will be our gospel reading for next week) of this first homily of Peter, which goes on much longer than I have, it says, “Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart, and they asked Peter and the other apostles, ‘What are we to do, my brothers?’ Peter said to them, ‘Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’… Those who accepted his message were baptized, and about three thousand persons were added that day.” Not a bad first homily, Peter!

Then, lastly, in our second reading, Peter writes his first encyclical, a letter to the whole church, in which he says, “If you invoke as Father him who judges impartially according to each one’s works, [then] conduct yourselves with reverence during the time of your sojourning…” How we live, what we do, does matter, and this is what it means to confess Jesus and proclaim him as Lord. Jesus himself said, “You call me, Lord, Lord, but you do not do what I say.”

Let us invoke the Father, and conduct ourselves with reverence. Let us allow Jesus to open our eyes, that our hearts might burn with in us with love for our living Lord as we live out the truth that sets us free, the truth of the Word of God who became flesh, a body, and dwelt among us, and offered himself, and rose from the dead, that we might have new life in him. Let us be nourished and give thanks for the true presence of Jesus which is the Eucharist, and then let us see and serve the presence of Jesus our Lord in all those around us.

Homily for the 5th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A) (go to readings)

Today, February 8, is the Feast Day of Saint Josephine Margaret Bakhita. She is the patron saint of those affected by the nightmare of human trafficking and modern slavery, which affects an estimated 50 million people in today’s world. Bakhita was born in Sudan about 1869 as the daughter of the tribal chieftain of the Daju people. Because of her family’s prominence in the village, she recalled that she grew up happy and that as a child, she did not know suffering.

Sometime about the year 1877, Bakhita was kidnapped by Arab slave traders, and although she was just a child, she was forced with others to make a 600-mile barefoot march to the capital city, and she was sold at least twice just on the journey. Over the following twelve years she would be sold to different families over a dozen times, sometimes being beaten so badly, scarred and branded, and being incapacitated by her injuries, that she had forgotten her childhood name, and was given the name Bakhita, which means “fortunate”.

Eventually, in 1883, she was bought by an Italian ambassador to Sudan, who took her back to Venice, Italy, and they treated her well. When he and his wife had to travel back to Sudan, they entrusted Bakhita to stay with a local community of nuns, the Canossian Sisters in Venice.

Staying with the sisters, she had a voracious appetite for their Christian faith, and she came believe. She said that she had always believed in God, but didn’t know who he was. The sisters answered her questions, and she was deeply moved by her time with them and wanted to become Christian herself. About this time, the ambassador and his wife returned to Venice and came to reclaim Bakhita from the sisters, but she refused to leave. The ambassador spent several days trying to convince her, before complaining to the authorities. The case went to court, and the court ruled that British-owned Sudan had outlawed slavery before Bakhita was born, and the Italian government had never recognized slavery as legal, therefore Bakhita was a free person.

She immediately joined the Canossian Sisters and prepared for the sacraments of initiation into the Church, which she received from Cardinal Giuseppe Sarto, who had argued in her favor in court, and who in 1903 became Pope Pius X, and she was baptized Josephine Margaret Fortunata.  Throughout the rest of her 42 years, Josephine was known for her calm voice, her joy, and her smile. Whenever someone asked her how she was, she answered, “As the master wishes.” She had several speaking engagements to the sisters preparing to do mission work in Africa. It was said, “her mind was always on God, and her heart in Africa.” Her special charisma and reputation for sanctity were noticed by her order. During the Second World War, she shared the fears and hopes of the townspeople, who considered her a saint and felt protected by her presence. Bombs damaged the town, but without a single casualty. She died on February 8, 1947. For three days, her body lay in repose while thousands of people arrived to pay their respects. She was canonized as a saint by Pope John Paul II in 2000.

I believe it is important for us to know the saints beyond just their names. They are our brothers and sisters in our Christian family, and they are our heroes for our inspiration and imitation as we strive to be the saints we are called to be. In 2007, Pope Benedict XVI used her story as part of his encyclical on hope, “Spe salve”. “Caritas Bakhita House” in London, which provides accommodation and support for women escaping human trafficking, is named in her honor. In 2023, Canadian sculptor Timothy Schmalz centered his human-trafficking sculpture “Let the Oppressed Go Free” on Bakhita, depicting her opening a trapdoor releaseing captives, representing the hidden, underground nature of modern human trafficking and slavery.

Today, the Knights of Columbus, working with the Arise Foundation, are working hard around the world, especially in those places hard hit by human trafficking: The Philippines, a global hub for human trafficking and sex slavery, Nigeria, with the terrorist group Boko Haram and other jihadist groups causing 3 million displaced persons, creating circumstances ripe for trafficking, and the war in Ukraine, with women and children being abducted by traffickers falsely promising them transportation to safety. Bishop Senior has the problem of human trafficking close to his heart, as he has promoted talks and prayer services on this topic throughout our diocese. The Church’s work, particularly through the Knights of Columbus, are witness to the Church’s desire to honor and protect the inalienable dignity (of all human life, not just the vulnerable unborn life in the womb, as we are often accused), but all human life, in every stage and every condition, as a sacred gift to be honored and protected. Hopefully you have seen the movie, “Sound of Freedom.” If you haven’t, it’s a difficult but important movie. Jim Caviezel portrays the true story of Tim Ballard, a former US government agent who embarks on a mission to rescue children from sex traffickers in South America. And today, February 8, the Feast Day of St. Josephine Bakhita, is, for the Church, the International Day of Prayer and Awareness Against Human Trafficking.

I spent the time talking about this because it is an excellent example of the message of our readings today, to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. We will often hear people described as “real salt of the earth people” in the sense that they’re basically good, simple folks. But Jesus meant more than that. Salt does three things (if it isn’t ruined by impurities and robbed of its effectiveness).

It preserves that which it salts. Salt was used to keep meat fresh before we had refrigerators. It kept the food from going bad. We as Christians are called to preserve the world by how we live in it, in the values we live out, in contradiction to the values of the world darkened by sin.

Salt adds flavor. Salt is in almost everything: French fries and fast food, obviously, snack food, cheese, frozen dinners, and if it doesn’t have salt, we often add salt. Salt not only adds flavor, but brings out the natural flavor of food. We as Christians are called to bring out the best flavor of humanity, to encourage people in the gifts and charisms of their character, as well as the best things about life in this world, recognizing them as gifts and blessings from God, and celebrating them. Even our sufferings can be honored as helping us to grow in holiness and closeness with Jesus who suffered for us.

Salt heals. Particularly in saltwater form, salt aids healing through antiseptic, anti-inflammatory, and absorption properties that cleanse wounds, soothe skin conditions, reduce muscle fatigue, and alleviate sore throats. Obviously, as Christians, we are called to heal the world, again, by how we live in it, exercising our faith in the world, holding to our moral ground against the mockery and opposition of the world. And also, by our prayer, worship and celebration of the Mass, by which the healing and saving grace of the Paschal Mystery of Christ continues to be made present in the world.

We know that Jesus is the Light of the World. But in our gospel reading, Jesus says to us, “You are the light of the world.” Of course, we are the light of the world by shining forth the light of Christ, as the moonlight is only a reflection of light from the sun. So Christ calls us to be the ongoing reflection of his life and ministry in our world. And Jesus adds, “A city set on a mountain (or “a city set on a hill”) cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lampstand, where it gives light to all in the house.” Which means yes, we have the light of truth, the light of salvation, but it’s not just for us; it’s for us to shine for others to see, to guide their lives by, to be attracted to in the darkness of their own situation, and have hope, have meaning, have life. Not for our own sake. But why? Jesus says, “Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.” So that they, too, can have faith in God, the source of all goodness, all faith, hope, and love, and healing, and life. Jerusalem, of course, was a city set on a hill, on Mt. Zion, and the Israelites were called to be the bright, shining example to the world by the wisdom of their laws and society. And the New Israel, the Church, is called to be so, even more.

And what is that light? We see it in our First Reading from the Old Testament: “Thus says the LORD: Break bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own. Then your light shall break forth like the dawn… If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech; if you bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; then light shall rise for you in the darkness…” These instructions are among what the Church calls the “corporal and spiritual works of mercy,” the way in which we shine with the glory of heavenly wisdom and goodness, shine with the light of Christ’s love for the world, for others, our families, our neighbors, our enemies, and strangers, like the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus’ answer to the question, “Who, then, is my neighbor?”

We are called to be salt because salt changes that which it salts, it is different than that which it salts, and so it can have the beneficial effect of salt. Light shines bright in darkness. These are signs to us of Jesus preparing us to be treated like him: a sign that others will try to contradict, a voice that others will try to silence, a light that others will try to extinguish. And that is when the Church most needs to be the Church: the sign of the cross, the voice of the prophet, the light of truth, love, and hope.

BONUS: My favorite excerpt from G. K. Chesterton's "St. Thomas Aquinas"

The Saint is a medicine because he is an antidote. Indeed that is why the saint is often a martyr; he is mistaken for a poison because he is an antidote. He will generally be found restoring the world to sanity by exaggerating whatever the world neglects, which is by no means always the same element in every age. Yet each generation seeks its saint by instinct; and he is not what the people want, but rather what the people need.

This is surely the very much mistaken meaning of those words to the first saints, "Ye are the salt of the earth," which caused the Ex-Kaiser to remark with all solemnity that his beefy Germans were the salt of the earth; meaning thereby merely that they were the earth's beefiest and therefore best. But salt seasons and preserves beef, not because it is like beef; but because it is very unlike it. Christ did not tell his apostles that they were only the excellent people, or the only excellent people, but that they were the exceptional people; the permanently incongruous and incompatible people; and the text about the salt of the earth is really as sharp and shrewd and tart as the taste of salt. It is because they were the exceptional people, that they must not lose their exceptional quality. "If salt lose its savour, wherewith shall it be salted?" is a much more pointed question than any mere lament over the price of the best beef. If the world grows too worldly, it can be rebuked by the Church; but if the Church grows too worldly, it cannot be adequately rebuked for worldliness by the world.

Therefore it is the paradox of history that each generation is converted by the saint who contradicts it most.

Homily for the 2nd Sunday of Advent (Year A readings) (go to readings)
Isaiah 11:1-10
Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17
Romans 15:4-9
Matthew 3:1-12

In 1830, George Wilson was convicted of robbery the U.S. Mail and endangering the life of the carrier in Pennsylvania and was sentenced to be hanged. At the request of George Wilson’s friends, President Andrew Jackson issued a pardon for Wilson. But he refused to accept it. The matter went to the Supreme Court. Chief Justice Marshall wrote in the court’s decision that Wilson would have to be executed. “”A pardon is a deed, to the validity of which delivery is essential, and delivery is not complete without acceptance. It may then be rejected by the person to whom it is tendered; and if it be rejected, we have discovered no power in this court to force it upon him.” If it is refused, it is no pardon. Hence, George Wilson must be hanged.

Last week we talked about the preparation of our hearts for the Advent, the coming to us, the arrival of Jesus. We join in the generations of anticipation experienced by ancient Israel. We as the Church want to always be prepared for his final coming, whatever day and hour that might be. We prepare our hearts to receive him every day in the Eucharist, and in his presence within us in the Holy Spirit. In today’s gospel reading for the second Sunday of Advent, we are being prepared for the arrival, the beginning in the world, of the earthly ministry of Jesus, the message of Jesus.

Saint John the Baptist is preparing people for the most important event in the history of existence. In the long history of Israel, there was a promise at the very start. The promise from the moment of the Fall of Humanity in the Garden of Eden, and our expulsion from Paradise. And that promise begins back “in the beginning”–in Genesis 3–that despite humanity’s disobedience to God, that God would fix it. That this condition of separation of humanity from God would be healed, and we could repent and be reconciled to God, at long last, restored to Paradise. God said in Genesis 3 that there would be an offspring of the woman who would crush the head of the offspring of the serpent. That God would prepare humanity in a “school of trust” to learn that God is for us, that God wants us to have happiness and fulfillment, and that we do not need to go outside of God’s will to take care of ourselves and our deepest needs.

[Note: The “school of trust” is a reference to the work, “The Second Greatest Story Ever Told” by the Marian priest, Fr. Michael Gaitley, about the Divine Mercy devotion.]

This promise was the hope of the “Anointed One,” the “Messiah” in Hebrew, the “Christos,” in Greek. Throughout Israel’s history, other promises got braided together with this one.

King David was promised that a Son of David, the Davidic dynasty, would sit on the throne of Israel in glory forever. But when Israel returned from the Babylonian Exile, the new king was not of David’s line, nor was any king afterward. And so, the promise of the long-awaited true King of Israel, the promised Son of David, was added to the Messianic hope, the one who would be anointed to fulfill God’s plan and God’s promise.

After the decline of Israel from its glory during the reign of King David and King Solomon, Israel broke into two kingdoms. The powerful Assyrian Empire destroyed the ten tribes of the northern kingdom, dispersing them throughout all the nations of the world, leaving only the two tribes of the southern Kingdom of Judah (or “Judea,” in Greek/Latin). And so, another part of the hope for the Messiah was that he would restore Israel’s greatness and the unity of the twelve tribes into a single kingdom, and all the world would worship the one true God of Israel.

And lastly, although it was more subtle, God himself had said, in condemning the wicked “shepherds” of Israel who mistreated the flock of God’s people, that God himself would come and shepherd his people, that he would search for the lost sheep and bring them back, that he would bind up those who were wounded, and feed those who were hungry, and gather them to have them graze in green pastures in their own land. And so, there was also the revelation that the Messiah would also, in fact, be divine, be God himself.

And so, St. John the Baptist, looking and acting a lot like the Old Testament Prophet Elijah, who was prophesied to return to herald the coming of the Messiah, was out in the wilderness by the Jordan River, proclaiming “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” The Messianic age, the promised return to paradise, as we see in the strange images of the First Reading from the Prophet Isaiah. “On that day,” Isaiah, says, “a shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom.” And this is where we get the traditional list of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord, or reverence), which will rest on this long-awaited bud, who would grow from the stump of Jesse, the father of King David. Isaiah is affirming the promise of the Son of David, the Messiah, the Good Shepherd. And one of the marks of the Messianic age, again, apparently missed by the Israelites (based on the events in the synagogue in Nazareth), but we can see more clearly from our perspective looking back, is that the Messiah will draw the gentiles to himself as well. Which makes sense. If the ten northern tribes, dispersed among all the nations of the world, are to be restored by the Messiah, then the new covenant of the Messiah would have to include all the nations, the whole world. It would be one, holy, and catholic (“universal,” from the Greek, “katholikos”) covenant family.

John not only proclaims the Messiah is near, to “Prepare the way of the Lord,” but he proclaims how we are to do that. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” Why? Because the Messiah is promising mercy, healing, forgiveness, and reconciliation. We desire the wrong things, we love the wrong things, we say and do the wrong things. Our heart is all messed up. He’s promising a new heart. The proclamation of the good news is that God is offering everyone a free heart transplant. But that’s only good news to someone who knows they need a new heart. The invitation of mercy is only good news to those who are aware they need mercy.

Later in the Gospel of Matthew, the Pharisees are going to ask the disciples of Jesus, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” And Jesus will answer them, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do… I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” Jesus is not saying that the Pharisees are righteous, but that because they believe they are righteous, they are failing to seek out the physician for themselves. They believe their heart is fine, and so are refusing the freely available heart transplant. They are refusing (like George Wilson) the pardon for the death sentence for their wrongdoing, and so the consequences of their wrongdoing remain upon them.

John is not offering a baptism for the forgiveness of sins, which will only come later with Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins. John is merely offering them a baptism of repentance. A humble, contrite confession that they need a savior, a messiah, a spiritual physician, a pardon, a heart transplant. So that, with them being so urgently and painfully aware of their need, they will hear of the good news of the arrival of the long-awaited Messiah, the Christ, and they will rejoice at the good news, they will seek to find him, and all will be made new.

Homily for 33rd Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year C) (go to readings)
Malachi 3:19-20a
Psalm 98:5-6, 7-8, 9
2 Thessalonians 3:7-12
Luke 21:5-19

“MEMENTO MORI.” Remember that you will have to die. This wisdom from Greek Stoic Philosophy is captured in the psalms as, “Teach us to count our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart” (Ps 90:12). And this wisdom can be found in the liturgy of Ash Wednesday, as each of the faithful is marked with a cross of ash on their forehead, with the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” The author of the book of Sirach tells us why this wisdom is important: “in all thy works be mindful of thy last end and thou wilt never sin” (Sir 7:36).

The bulletin column this week is a reflection on the readings as reflections on the end of the world, as we approach the end of the liturgical year. There’s a certain aesthetic, considering our mortality, as the brown autumn leaves leave the trees bare and cover the green grass. We start with our first reading, from the Prophet Malachi, the last book of the Old Testament. “Lo, the day is coming.” What day? The day of the coming of the Lord. The later prophets of the Old Testament were highly critical of the injustices and corruption of Israel, and you think Israel would have learned their lesson by now. But no. The corruption of the temple priesthood, of worship, of the political leaders, corruption that caused the poor and vulnerable to suffer cruel injustices and struggle in poverty. When these Old Testament prophets proclaimed, “Israel, prepare to meet your God,” it was something like, “You wait till your father gets home!” It was the day of reckoning. Or in more Catholic tradition terms, the “Dies Irae,” the Day of Wrath. We must remember that “it is a fearful and terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God,” it says in the New Testament letter to the Hebrews. So, this is not just “Old Testament angry God” rhetoric. God is indeed merciful. But let us not forget what condemnation of our sins his mercy is saving us from, if we repent in faith.

“…blazing like an oven, when all the proud and all evildoers will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire, leaving them neither root nor branch, says the LORD of hosts.” When the fire of God comes, those who have not repented and called upon his mercy will be condemned to eternity without the God of life. As Jesus says in the parable of the twelve virgins, those who are not vigilant and prepared will be locked outside where there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth, according to sweet and gentle Jesus.

There’s a false dichotomy that God in the Old Testament is wrathful and vengeful, and God in the New Testament is merciful and gentle. And some claim that it seems like they’re two different gods. But most of the Scripture’s verses about God’s mercy and care are in the Old Testament. And no one talks about the reality and danger of hell more than Jesus himself. For example, the last line of our first reading from Malachi turns a corner: “But for you who fear my name, there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays.” So a carrot and a stick. God uses both, whatever it takes to get us to choose life in him: the carrot to help us to choose goodness and faithfulness, which win the blessings of the covenants God has made with his people, or the stick to help us to avoid the curses of breaking the covenant by unfaithfulness and sin. For those who remain faithful, and fear his name, or show reverence for him as our God, he will heal our imperfections and take us to himself in eternal joy. Not a hard choice, in theory. But if it were that easy in reality, no one would ever sin.

But that’s the point of “Memento Mori.” It can happen in an instant, and we know not the day nor the hour. It could be on your way home, in your sleep; the Lord could come in a million years, or the Lord could come tomorrow. You can think about that and live in fear, but that’s not a great way to live, and it’s not the way God wants you to live. A much better idea is to live the right way, to live simply, honestly, faithfully, virtuously, and you never need to fear the day or the hour, because you’re always ready. The first letter of John says, “Love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18). If you consider the image of dying unexpectedly and having someone you love going through every bit of your life, cleaning out drawers and closets and basements and boxes, internet history, files, and everything, do you fear what they might find? Do you have secrets and shame? What if, instead, you remember, “Memento Mori,” and live with simplicity and integrity, what you see is what you get, no secrets, no shame, no fear. Just living 100% pure divine love (or if you’re of a certain age, 99+44/100ths % pure, clean as Ivory).

Our second reading, finishing up weeks of going through Saint Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians, matches up with today’s theme as things are getting wrapped up at the end (the end of the liturgical year, and the end of the world). Paul is instructing the Christian community not to sit back and waste time waiting for the return of the Messiah, getting into other people’s business and not minding one’s own need to be found being a good and prudent servant.

Paul and his co-workers could have required of the community a sort of stipend for their ministry, which would have been just and a normal expectation. But instead, they worked their trades as tentmakers in their off hours, to give a better example, as the Thessalonians needed. “…we instructed you that if anyone was unwilling to work, neither should that one eat.” This does not mean refusing to give alms to the poor, which Jesus explicitly requires of us. This is to be prudent in our almsgiving, not enabling those fully able to work to be unproductive, which is often destructive to virtue and salvation, and the whole community, especially the truly needy.

And finally, in our gospel reading, Jesus and his apostles were on the Mount of Olives, looking over the valley at the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. We are finishing up the Mount Olivet Discourse in the Gospel of Luke, the last part of Jesus’ teaching before he begins Palm Sunday and Holy Week, which we covered back in the spring (at Palm Sunday and Holy Week). And his apostles, a bunch of country bumpkins from up north in Galilee, are marveling at the majesty of the Jerusalem Temple across the valley. And Jesus says, yes, it’s great and beautiful, and “All that you see here–the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.”

So they ask him, really? when will that happen? How will we know it’s about to happen? And here we have, let’s say four, important teachings from our gospel reading.

One. “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ Do not follow them!” Jesus said in our daily Mass reading on Thursday, “For just as lightning flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be in his day.” When the day comes that Jesus returns, no one will mistakenly miss it. It will be a global event, a cosmic event, that will not be mistaken. So until then, just keep doing the holiness thing, and don’t worry about what people are saying about the end of the world.

Two. “When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end… Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place…” So basically, human world history as usual. And these will not be cause for fear, as terrible as they seem. So just keep doing the holiness thing, and don’t worry about what people are saying about the end of the world.

Just as an aside, Dr. Brant Pitre, in his notes on this weekend's readings, mentions that he has a presentation, "Jesus and the End Times: A Catholic View of the Last Days". While (as I say below) focusing excessively on the "end times" can serve as a distraction from focusing on the good we are called to do here and now, the scriptures do tell us about the end times, and so it's good that we understand it, particularly as it can help us keep faith against incorrect things we might hear about the end times. It's a set of five hour-long presentations, and I've only listened to the first one so far, but it is excellent!

Three. “…they will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name… You will even be handed over by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name…” Oh, persecution of Christians. Right, So basically, human history as usual. This has happened in the past and will likely happen again, perhaps in the near future. They’re not going to prevent us from going to Mass, from having a church, from celebrating Christmas. They’re going to make it offensive, if not also illegal, to speak against society’s views on gender, marriage, sex, abortion, and whatever else is coming down the pipeline we can’t even imagine yet. And not all the public condemnation and suffering, as we now know, will be legal persecution. It could be vigilante violence.

Four. “Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute.” There’s an old phrase in Catholic tradition, “grace builds on nature.” What good you have naturally, grace makes greater. Jesus is not saying, “Don’t learn your faith. Don’t study the bible. Don’t worry about having to understand and explain your faith.” The bible does say, “sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts. Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence, keeping your conscience clear” (1 Pet 3:15-16). So the more we learn our faith, the more we pray, the more we equip the Holy Spirit to pull out of us what is the perfect response for the moment of necessity. Joan of Arc was asked in her trial, “Do you know whether or not you are in God’s grace?” Her response, filled with faith, was, “If I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me.” That brilliant response didn’t come out of thin air. That was inspired from her deep life of faith. She didn’t sit in her cell preparing to give that answer. But it came from deep within her, and was her response inspired by the Holy Spirit. But also the story of St. Joan of Arc can remind us that just because “your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute” your wisdom doesn’t necessarily mean your persecutors will admit they were wrong and you’ll be free to go.

And lastly, I saw a quote the other day, “If the devil can’t destroy you, he’ll distract you.” (Alternatively, “If the devil can’t make us bad, he’ll make us busy.” – Corrie Ten Boom). A lot of people waste a lot of time uselessly speculating about the end times. Don’t get caught up that game. It is (or can be) a distraction from the present moment, this moment in which we are called to be present and holy and give glory and thanks to God, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Let us use this and every present moment to be holy, to be prepared. “Memento Mori” is not a call to live in fear. It’s simply a reminder (memento) always to be ready, so that we need not dread death with fear, but to pass through death to our long-awaited embrace of our Lord whom our heart has faithfully loved.