Leaving the Median

Fourth Sunday of Easter
May 11, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Acts 13:14, 43-52 / Ps 100 / Rv 7:9, 14b-17 / Jn 10:27-30
by Msgr. Michael McCarron, Guest Celebrant

It’s such a joy to be here with you again today and over these next couple of weeks.  It’s exactly the elixir that this retired priest needed:  to have a parish community again for a while.  So, thank you for that gift.

I said to someone at the last Mass, and I would repeat it, especially since it’s happened twice in a row:  8 o’clock is really early.  Especially if you’re coming all the way from Lynchburg, which is not far, of course, but it means that, for me, I have to get up around 4:45 or thereabouts and get the dog settled and myself settled, so that I don’t come out bleary-eyed and mumbling things at Mass.

It’s always a joy for me to have the distance between my home in Lynchburg to this parish here in Bedford because of that drive.  I come out on 460 and, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried it at that hour on a Sunday, when there’s almost no traffic, but that drive is absolutely delightful.  It’s not usually delightful, especially if I’m behind you saying, “Hurry up!”  But that’s my fault.  This morning, however, when I came up it was just so awesome.  There was a little haze across the fields, the deer were kind of bedding down.  You could see them heading into the woodlands, instead of the middle of the road, like they usually do.  It was just wonderful and very peaceful and a wonderful way to arrive, of course, to celebrate the Prince of Peace.  It was really a gift.

And so, as I was driving along that 32.5 minutes, according to my GPS, that it takes to get here, I was immediately lulled into those wonderful spiritual thoughts, and I began to think about the median strip.  I mean, really, about the median strip!  I’ve always been fascinated by them.  When you think about it, they’re the victims of violence, aren’t they?  Somebody has come through what was once a pasture or a road, and just created this 4-lane highway, and left there in the middle, seemingly forgotten, this strip of land.

I admit that, if you’re a traffic engineer, and you’re here in the congregation, you shake your head and say “They’re there for a purpose.”  Yes, I know they’re there for a purpose.  They do serve a purpose:  they separate the lanes and keep the lights down; they do all sorts of things!  But there’s a study that says, since the late 1950s and early 1960s, when they began the interstate system and when road construction began to take in things like median strips for safety, a group of animals has begun to adapt to living in median strips.  They don’t live anywhere else, because they can’t get off of the median strip.  And if they do, they don’t get to the other side, generally speaking.  So, there’s a whole life ecosystem going on.

As I’m driving down the road, I’m kind of watching how the wildflowers are coming up, how different things are happening in that median strip.  And I thought to myself, I’d really hate to be a median strip, because they don’t go anywhere.  They always stop at a bridge, or at an intersection, or something.  They don’t go further.  And if you’re one of those lucky animals who has decided this is home, well, you’re wrong because you don’t go anywhere, either.

Today our Lord talks, as he does on this Sunday every year, about the Good Shepherd.  The readings we hear today have been proclaimed in the Church since the fourth century. This is part of the ancient lectionary, as pretty much all of Easter is.  This particular one is called Shepherd Sunday, because all of the readings are about being a shepherd, doing shepherd-like things.

In Jesus’ day, it’s beautiful.  We have this wonderful image of our Lord with a lamb across His shoulders.  It’s very touching.  But, of course, in Jesus’ day, if I called you a sheep, you would be really upset.  It still is not complimentary.  I mean, go to a friend of yours and say “You’re such a sheep,” and see if you get a happy response.  You won’t.

In Jesus’ day, and in ours, sheep are very sweet.  I mean, who doesn’t love a lamb?  You just want to cuddle with them.  But they’re dumb as a box of rocks.  I grew up on a farm that had sheep, among other things, and you just couldn’t help but love them.  They all have different personalities.  But they don’t know anything.  They can get spooked by a branch falling in a field a mile away.  They run, once they’re spooked, until they drop.  They don’t stop; they drop.  If they’re left to their own devices, they exhaust themselves.  They’re a catering service for wolves, basically.  They don’t protect themselves; they can’t.  They run and they are challenged and, if they fall in a creek, they turn over and they can’t turn themselves back.  They get soaked in the wool and they drown.

They need a shepherd, and that is Jesus’ whole point.  Goats are like the cats of the sheep world.  They can do anything on their own.  They have brilliant minds, they take care of themselves, they gather together and they push back any danger.  They don’t really need a lot of help.  Sheep in the wild need an awful lot of help.  In fact, without the shepherd – and Jesus is making this very clear in the gospel of St. John – they won’t go anywhere.  They stop.

But His sheep know him, and when He calls them, they come forward.  This is important for people who are living in the median.  And I hate to tell you, but we’re living in the median.  That is to say, we live in a time when faith has been reduced to a kind of pausing.  Faith has been reduced to trying not to stand out too much.  Faith has become a kind of Catholic agnosticism.  You know God exists.  Everybody in this room believes that.  We’re not sure He does anything.  He doesn’t really intervene.  He doesn’t really get on our side or have our back.  When we are in trouble, we go to a lot of different places before we get to Him.  He’s kind of our desperation point, isn’t He?

You see, Jesus is the Shepherd that we who live in the median – not quite sure, wanting to be sure, but OK about staying in one place – need.  He’s the one who gets us off the median.  We need a shepherd to see us across those four lanes.  We need a shepherd to tell us that there really is life on the other side of that concrete:  the concrete of our prejudices or our own grudges, the concrete of our opinions about ourselves when we look in the mirror and just don’t like what we see if we’re honest, the concrete of the difficulties we have with our kids, or we who are kids have with our parents.  We need a shepherd to show us how to get off of that median safely.

Jesus says that they know My voice.  They’ve heard what I’ve said to them.  And I’ve put them into My hand.  That is to say I will never let them go.  I will never get them to come out into the road unless I can lead them safely to the other side.  I will hold on to them.  Our prejudices can be coming down the road at seventy-five miles an hour, and we could be in the middle of the road, but He’s not going to let us get hit by them if we stick with the Gospel.

When we’re at work, and everybody’s talking about the new Holy Father, and that he’s an American, as though the Holy Father can be minimalized into a nationality, we are able to stand up and profess our faith, and what it means to be one Church of enormous diversity, with an enormous broad Catholic reach.  It means that Jesus, who has called us, has summoned us off the median because we’ve heard the voice of one person who makes more sense than all of the stuff we see on social media, the stuff that our computer can lure us to.  It tells us that our sexuality is some kind of a playground, instead of a sacred gift, as sacred as the Eucharist is – a sacrament to be given to another with faithfulness, permanence, and love.  We may feel like we’re in a pretty unsafe place.  But living on the median, we can begin to think that sometimes the bad behaviors we compromise with, that we accept, in order not to seem different, just pass by. Those bad behaviors can suddenly begin to be a toxin that takes hold of us and changes us.

Today we celebrate Mother’s Day.  We’re glad to celebrate our mothers.  Hopefully we remember a Mom who taught us that there was a difference between love and hate, forgiveness and grudges.  Hopefully, we remember a mother who, by her own example, showed us what she cares about.

Do you know what the first memory that comes to mind of my mother, at my ripe old age of almost seventy-four?  It is of my mother putting rubbing alcohol on me when I was about twelve years old, because I had the flu and my fever had gone up into the dangerous zone.  I don’t remember much else of that fever or of that time.  I just remember her being at my bedside late at night, and bringing my fever down.  Thanks, Moms.  Happy day.  I had a good shepherd.  It looked an awful lot like my mother.

That’s, of course, the point.  “The Father and I are one,” Jesus says.  That means when they hear My voice, and they follow Me, they know that I can get them, allow them, help them, infuse them to be Me to others:  Moms to their children, husbands to their spouses, children to their parents, elderly to the young, and bless the young, to us, who are older in years.

It’s funny to be on the median, isn’t it?  It looks very peaceful, but sometimes it’s a little too peaceful.  The median isn’t the woods.  The woods give life to so many creatures.  The medians give it only to a few that will accept the narrow boundaries as normal.  We don’t.  We’re Catholics.  We have no boundaries.  Our boundaries are as big as eternity, as long and as deep as grace.  And we have a Shepherd who will never let us be extricated from His grasp.  And He’s grabbed us, tight, with a hug that leads to everlasting life.  Does it go somewhere?  It goes on forever, as it should.

May Jesus be praised forever.

Follow Him

Third Sunday of Easter
May 4, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41 / Ps 30 / Rv 5:11-14 / Jn 21:1-19
by Msgr. Michael McCarron, Guest Celebrant

It had been quite the week. It weighed on him more than he could possibly say. They had gone up to Jerusalem, of course, all of them with such high hopes. It was that procession, that raucous, loud, singing procession into the gates. It had all changed so swiftly. Within a week they were running and hiding, afraid to be caught like He was caught. Peter, His dear friend, leader of the rest, hid better than most of them, even denied Him. Three times.

And so, finally it got to be too much, and Peter could not live with his thoughts. And he decided just to go back to normal life, and he said, I’m going fishing. And to his great surprise and pleasure, the others had been feeling the same. We’ll go with you, they said. We’ll go back home. And so, they went fishing and, true to form for the week that had been, it was just like the week: no fish, no nothing. Nothing but a continuous heavy barrage of bad news and, especially for fishermen who hadn’t fished in so long, particularly bad news. At least there were no Romans such was the benefit of fishing at night: no tax collectors, no Romans, no fish either.

And so, as they found themselves drifting up towards the place of the seven springs, where they had often gone after they had fished successfully, where they had cleaned the fish, where Jesus had met them so many times, spending the night on that rock, telling stories, laughing, teasing each other, teasing Him. He was a sight in the morning, and they’d let him know it.

As they drifted toward shore, it was already almost dawn. That kind of half-light of early morning obscured the view, but they could see the mooring spots where they were going, and there was someone there, there on the steps down into the water. And the person cried out, “Children, have you caught anything?” Peter cocked his head.  It was a familiar voice.  But he answered, “Nothing. Nothing, sir.” “Well then, put your nets on the right side of the boat, as opposed to the wrong side of the boat.” And so, Peter did the opposite of what he had done, but as he did, it was becoming more and more familiar to him. Déjà vu perhaps, but more real than that, until John cried out, “It’s the Lord!”

As the fish were being hauled in, one hundred and fifty-three of them, one for every nation known on earth, Peter threw on some clothes, jumped into the water, and swam to Him. There, the smell of charcoal smoke, fish cooking, and his friend. “Tell them to bring it all ashore and bring me some fish. You’ve got a lot of people that are hungry here, Peter. Come, have your breakfast.”

For many of you who know me, I’m Monsignor Michael McCarron. It is my privilege to have been the pastor of St. Thomas More for the last thirteen years, retiring last June. So almost a year into retirement, and I’ve survived so far. I will be a priest for forty-eight years on this Wednesday, which just sounds like a long time, even to me. Not to mention the congregations that have endured me. But I have to say even though that’s the case, every time I come before these wonderful mysteries, the gospels like this, I get nervous. I said to the deacon earlier today as I began, you know it’s the first time I’ve been here for fourteen years. This is the first time we’ve ever been together on the altar. It’s kind of a wonderful occasion. And I said, are you nervous? And he said, yeah, you know, and I didn’t say to him then, but I should have: so am I. I’m always nervous before I preach or teach, and why wouldn’t I be?

You see, I have been given a call. I have been asked to follow Him and right now, I’m standing before you and His call is to convince you somehow, whatever age you are or level of faith you are, to convince you about something that is true. That something is really true, and that is that you have a God who wants to make breakfast for you. Wants to make breakfast for you. You have a God so tender that one of the first things He does after He rises from the dead is meet you in the place where you have always talked into the night. Where the only memory is a memory of goodness and companionship and fellowship. To convince you that, in fact, no matter how many times we’ve denied Him, we will have opportunity, ample opportunity to nevertheless, affirm Him. “You know I love you, Lord. I’m sorry, but you know everything. You know I love you.” And He does.

I’m nervous because I know that I am called to somehow awaken every single heart here. Your salvation has been presented to me, too. The Lord wants me to tell you, Follow Him. Just the way He told Peter. No different message from the gospel. And following Him is what makes me nervous, because to convince you to do that, I’m fully aware that following Him is no easy task. Following Him means, following Him into charity and into forgiveness when they tease you at high school or in elementary school, because you’re a faithful person, and they’re not. Because you’re home schooled, and they’re not; because you live a way that other teenagers don’t live. Follow me and the urges to go to the computer and satisfy them are all there and all powerful; following Him means saying no.

There’s a better way. Even though you might not be able to see it right now, there’s a better way. I’m nervous. Because there’s a message here today that if we have a God who loves us so much that He will make us breakfast, then we had better be sure we believe He’s made us dinner and that He intends to feed us just as surely as He intended to feed them.

“Follow me” is His command at the end of this gospel. And I hope with all that I am that something, somehow, as the Lord speaks through me, blessed be God, will speak to you, whether you’re thirteen or eight, fifteen or fifty, it doesn’t matter. Do we think that a God who would cook breakfast for us is uninterested in anyone here because of their age, their gender, their aptitude, their looks? Follow Him and reject all of the false values the world will give you for acting the way it thinks you should. Follow Him so that the unborn find a voice screaming for life and a chance to live; Follow Him so that the elderly may find themselves, in fact, reverenced as wise for their years and cared for because of their giving.

What a wonderful gospel, but I’m nervous. Because you see, if you believe this gospel, listening to that first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, how can I convince you to go home and gives thanks to God for being declared worthy to suffer embarrassment for the sake of the Lord? No one wants to do that …except those who follow Him, because, where He is, we want to be. Where He goes, we want to go. The meal He prepares, we want to eat, because its dessert is eternal life.

May Jesus be praised forever.

God Qualifies the Called

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 9, 2025 — Year C
Readings: Is 6:1-2a, 3-8 / Ps 138 / 1 Cor 15:1-11 / Lk 5:1-11
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Have you ever felt unworthy of a task?  Too weak, too sinful to be used by God?  Today’s readings tell us that God does not call the qualified, He qualifies the called.  He chooses ordinary, flawed individuals and transforms them into instruments of His divine mission.  Isaiah, Paul, and Peter each experience an encounter with God that reveals their inadequacy.  Yet, they respond with faith and willingness.  Today’s readings tell us about answering God’s call in spite of our unworthiness.

In our first reading, Isaiah has a powerful vision of God’s glory, where the angels cry out, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts!”  (Is 6:3) In the presence of God’s holiness, Isaiah immediately feels unworthy.  “Woe is me; I am doomed. For I am a man of unclean lips….” (Is 6:5) God, however, purifies him with a burning coal, symbolizing transformation.  Once purified, Isaiah hears God’s call: “Whom shall I send?”  He responds, “Here I am…send me!”  (Is 6:8) Isaiah’s response teaches us that acknowledging our weakness is the first step to being open to God’s grace.  Despite our imperfections, God purifies us and calls us to serve.

St. Paul, in the second reading, reflects on the core of the gospel: Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection.  He humbly acknowledges his past as a persecutor of Christians, calling himself “the least of the apostles.”  (1 Cor 15:9)  Yet he declares, “But by the grace of God I am what I am,” recognizing that his transformation is solely due to God’s mercy.  Paul’s story mirrors Isaiah’s.  He, too, felt unworthy, but God’s grace made him a powerful instrument of evangelization.  His experience reminds us that our past does not define us.  God’s grace does.

In today’s gospel, we witness a profound moment of encounter between Jesus and St. Peter.  After a long and fruitless night of fishing, Peter and his companions are exhausted.  Their efforts have yielded nothing.  Yet when Jesus tells Peter to put out into deep water and lower the nets, Peter obeys, despite his doubts.  The result is astonishing:  a miraculous catch of fish so great that their nets begin to tear.  Overwhelmed, Peter falls to his knees saying, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”  Instead of rejecting him, Jesus reassures Peter and calls him to a greater mission.  “From now on you will be catching men.”  (Lk 5:10)   The disciples leave everything and follow Jesus.  Like Isaiah and Paul, Peter is keenly aware of his unworthiness, but Jesus does not see him as he is.  He sees what he can become.

Peter’s response challenges us.  Do we trust Jesus enough to leave behind our fears and follow Him?  Peter had every reason to doubt.  He was an experienced fisherman and the conditions had not changed.  Yet, despite this human reasoning, he obeyed Jesus’ command.  This act of faith reminds us that when we trust in the Lord, even when His ways seem beyond our understanding, He can accomplish great things in our lives.

How often do we, like Peter, feel exhausted, discouraged, or convinced that our efforts are in vain?  Jesus calls us to deeper faith, to trust Him even when our experience tells us otherwise.

Peter’s reaction to the miraculous catch is striking.  Instead of pride, he is filled with humility and recognizes his unworthiness before the Lord.  This moment mirrors many encounters in scripture:  Isaiah’s vision of God’s glory (Is 6:1-8) and Paul’s conversion (1 Cor 15:1-11).  When we truly encounter Christ, we recognize our own sinfulness, but Jesus does not leave us there.  He calls us forward, not in fear, but in mission.

All three of today’s readings share a common theme:  a personal encounter with God leads to humility, transformation, and mission.  Isaiah, Paul, and Peter all feel unworthy, but God calls them anyway.  Their stories highlight the power of divine grace, showing that when God calls, He also equips.

The Church teaches that every baptized Christian is called to holiness and mission, regardless of personal weakness.  It is grace that enables us to fulfill God’s call.  Grace is first and foremost the gift of the Spirit Who justifies and sanctifies us.  Jesus transforms Peter’s identity.  He’s no longer just a fisherman.  He is now called to bring others to Christ.  This call extends to all of us.  As baptized Christians, we are called to evangelize, to share our faith and lead others to Jesus.  We may feel unworthy, unqualified, or fearful, but Jesus reassures us, “Do not be afraid.”

Peter and his companions leave behind their boat, their nets, and their old way of life.  Following Jesus requires sacrifice, but what we gain is far greater than what we leave behind.  The invitation to discipleship is a call to trust, to let go of attachments, and to surrender our lives to Christ.

St. Mother Teresa, who dedicated her life to serving the poorest of the poor, once said, “God does not require that we be successful, only that we be faithful.”  This echoes today’s gospel.  Peter did not need to be a perfect fisherman.  He just needed to trust Jesus.  Likewise, we may not always see immediate success in our mission, but God asks us to remain faithful.

Many of us hesitate to serve because we feel unworthy.  Like Isaiah, Paul, and Peter, we must remember that God’s grace is greater than our weaknesses, so that we can overcome those feelings of unworthiness.  Let us also trust in God’s plan.  When Peter obeyed Jesus, he witnessed a miracle.  When we trust in God, even when it seems illogical, He works in ways we cannot imagine.

We may not be aware of it, but in our daily lives, God is always calling us to help the needy, share our faith, or forgive someone.  Instead of saying, “I am not ready,” let’s say, “Here I am, Lord.”  Let’s say yes to God’s call.  The world measures success in achievements.  God measures it in faithfulness.  We are called to serve even if we do not see immediate results.

Today’s readings remind us that God’s call is not based on our worthiness, but on His grace.  Like Isaiah, Paul, and Peter, we are called to trust Him, respond with faith and follow where He leads.  May we too, say with Isaiah, “Here I am Lord.  Send me.”  Let’s go forth knowing that God does not call the perfect.  He perfects those He calls.

Active Preparation

First Sunday of Advent
December 1, 2024 — Year C
Readings: Jer 33:14-16 / Ps 25 / 1 Thes 3:12–4:2 / Lk 21:25-28, 34-36
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Today is the first Sunday of Advent.  Advent marks the beginning of a new liturgical calendar, a new beginning for us and for the family of the Church.  It is a time of hope, of preparation, and of anticipation of two comings of Christ – His birth in Bethlehem and His glorious return at the end of time.  These weeks before Christmas are rather a spiritual renewal, where we are called to wake up from spiritual complacency and return our hearts to the Lord.  As Pope Saint John Paul II reminds us, “Do not be afraid.  Open wide the doors to Christ.”

The Advent season is a season of hope and courage as we prepare to encounter Christ anew, in our lives, our world, and in eternity.  We do not pretend that Advent is without joy.  On the contrary, it is a season of joyful hope, because it points us to Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of all our longing.  Advent is a season to reorient our lives to this fulfillment, living with the expectation of His presence both now and in the future.

The readings for this first Sunday of Advent invite us to prepare with vigilance, hope, and faith.  From Jeremiah, we hear God’s promise to send a just and righteous savior to lead His people.  Paul encourages the Thessalonians to increase in love and holiness, as they await the coming of the Lord.  In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus warns of cosmic signs and urges us to stay alert and prayerful, so that we may stand firm before Him.

The prophet Jeremiah speaks of God’s promise of a savior who will spring from the line of David.  This righteous branch will establish justice and integrity in the land, fulfilling God’s covenant with His people. In Jeremiah’s time, the people of Judah faced turmoil and exile.  This promise of restoration gave them hope amidst despair.  For us today, it points to the coming of Christ, both in His incarnation and at the end of time.  Christ is the fulfillment of God’s promise, the King of justice and peace, who brings salvation to all who trust in Him.  Jeremiah reminds us that God’s plans never fail.  Advent invites us to anchor our hope in this promise and to live as citizens of His kingdom, marked by justice and righteousness.

In our second reading today, Paul writes to the Thessalonians, urging them to abound in love for one another and to live lives pleasing to God.  He encourages them to prepare for the coming of the Lord by growing in holiness and love.  This reading highlights an important aspect of Advent.  Advent is not just a preparation about waiting, but about action.  Love is at the heart of this preparation.  Paul challenges us to reflect on our relationships with God and with others, and to increase in love and virtue.

In our current world, where individualism often overshadows community, Paul’s words are a powerful reminder of our call to be witnesses of God’s love.  Advent is a time to examine our hearts and align our lives with God’s will, striving for holiness as we await Christ’s return.

In the gospel, Jesus speaks of cosmic signs and the distress of nations as signs of His return.  While the apocalyptic images may evoke fear, Jesus tells us to stand up and raise our heads, because our redemption is drawing near.  This emphasizes vigilance and hope.  The signs of the times are not meant to paralyze us with fear, but to awaken us to the reality of Christ’s kingdom.  Jesus warns against becoming distracted by the anxieties and pleasures of life, urging us instead to stay awake and prayerful.

We can see these signs in the challenges that our world faces:  environmental crises, social unrest, and personal struggles.  Yet, Jesus calls us to hope and persevere.  Advent reminds us to keep our eyes on Christ, the source of our redemption, and to live each day with faith and trust in His promises.

The overall message of today’s readings is the call to anticipation with active preparation.  God’s promises are trustworthy, and we are called to respond by living lives that reflect His kingdom.  Advent is not passive waiting. It is a dynamic journey of hope and renewal.  Advent challenges us to actively prepare for Christ’s coming, not just through external practices, but through an internal transformation.  It is a time to strengthen our faith, deepen our love, and root our hope in the Savior who is both near and yet to come.

As we reflect on these readings, we see how profoundly they speak to our current circumstances.  The world is marked by uncertainty, division, and anxiety.  Whether it be political tensions, climate crisis, or personal struggles, the gospel’s imagery of roaring seas and distressed nations feels strikingly relevant.  But Jesus does not leave us in despair. His words are a beacon: “When these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads, because your redemption is at hand.” (Luke 21:28)

This message of hope reminds us that we are not alone in the storms of life.  God’s promises endure.  Jeremiah’s prophecy of a savior assures us that God remains faithful, even when circumstances seem bleak.  As Catholics, we are called to bring this hope into the world through our actions, reflecting God’s justice, mercy, and love.  Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians offers practical advice for living out this hope: “May the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all.”  (1 Thes 3:12)

In a world often characterized by self-interest, Advent challenges us to live counter-culturally, loving and serving others as Christ loves us.  This is the essence of Advent preparation, not just lighting candles or singing hymns, but becoming living witnesses of the Gospel.  Advent is not just a countdown to Christmas. It is a sacred time to renew our hearts and refocus on what truly matters.  It reminds us that Christ’s coming changes everything.  We are called to live in hope and readiness, embracing His light in a world that desperately needs it.

As we light the first candle in our Advent wreath, let it remind us of the light of Christ breaking into darkness.  Let us leave this season with hearts full of hope, ready to welcome the Savior not only in the manger but in our daily lives and at the end of time.  May we, like the vigilant servants in the gospel, stand ready and faithful, with our hearts fixed on the One who is to come.  Let us ask the Lord to awaken our hearts this Advent and help us to prepare with joyful anticipation for His coming.  May His light shine in our lives and through us into the world.

Right on Time

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 23, 2024 — Year B
Readings: Jb 38:1, 8-11 / Ps 107 / 2 Cor 5:14-17 / Mk 4:35-41
by Rev. Louis Benoit, Guest Celebrant

Today’s gospel has a few meanings.  One meaning is that Jesus is the fulfillment of God in the Old Testament. In the Old Testament, especially in the book of Psalms, like the psalm we just heard, we hear how God is over all creation and over the storms and the winds, with God having domination over all those things.  So, we see Jesus fulfilling these Old Testament aspects of God, being creator and domineering over all.

Also, at the beginning of Mark’s gospel, we are told who Jesus is.  However, for Jesus’ followers, that gradually unfolds as the gospel goes on.  As they see Jesus doing various things, it deepens their faith in who Jesus is.

And so, we have, at the last line of today’s gospel, “Who then is this, whom even the wind and sea obey?”  It’s the deeper knowledge of who Jesus is, as they come to a deeper faith in Him.  For the apostles, it’s a deepening of faith.  And it’s a faith that needs to be deepened.  He asked them, “Why are you terrified?  Do you not yet have faith?”  And that’s not just an admonition, but it’s calling them into deeper faith in who Jesus is, and of course, they are questioning it.

Who then is this, whom even the winds and sea obey?  Now, for us, it’s a very good gospel.  How many times in your life have you felt you were in your own little boat on rough seas and by yourself, and you don’t know where to turn?  I think anyone who has logged in some adult years can identify times when that has happened.  And yet, do you doubt that Jesus is in the boat with you?  I think we do doubt when we are being tossed about by the waves of life, and wondering where God is, but Jesus is with you.

You know, the apostles weren’t too keen on that, but although He was asleep on a cushion, He was with them, and that’s for us to see that Jesus is with us.  And we have things that keep us from that.  We have a peculiar situation in our country that militates against that, that we so over-emphasize independence.  We tend to ignore our dependence on God and others.  And we are very dependent on people.  This over-emphasis on independence is not a good thing, because we are extremely dependent.

You’re dependent on dozens of people every day.  We can’t live alone; it’s impossible.  And so, we have to get that sense of dependence, and many times in a sense of dependence, we find the presence of Jesus in other people around us.  If we get too much into our own independence, we don’t see it.  But Jesus is with us, and many times it’s with the people who are surrounding us.  We’re not as independent as we think.

Years ago, I was chaplain of a Youth Development Center.  It’s kind of a reform school for young men, and many of them were extremely belligerent and believed that they didn’t need anybody and could get by on their own.   So, I played a little game with them.  I said, “Well, if you are so independent, what would you do if you were out in the woods alone?  How would you survive?”  A response might be, “Well, I’d get an axe and I’d chop down some trees.”  I would respond, “Wait, wait, where did you get that axe?  Didn’t somebody provide that for you?”  And as I played that game and kept pushing it, and they realized that if they were totally independent, they’d be standing naked in the woods.

We’re terribly dependent, and we really need Jesus, and we really need each other, and sometimes “each other” is the presence of Jesus.  That’s the way it is, and we have to realize our dependence on Jesus, and that Jesus is with us to calm the storms of life.

The other aspect of this, a totally different aspect but a very important one, is that it’s God’s creation, not ours.  We have a terrible time with this.  But God is the one who is running the show, not us.  And we have to learn to be able to discern God’s action in our lives and what that action is calling us to.

I know that almost any of you my age or even a bit younger can recall times in your life when things happened that you hadn’t planned, but it worked out for the best.  You know, God was working, and it was God’s plan, not yours.  And so, it’s for us to see that no, we’re not running the show, and when we try to run the show, we can end up feeling very alone, swamped by the waves of life.  We are trying to run everything ourselves, and we do the best we can with life, but always with an openness to God’s presence, God’s plan, and God’s direction.  It’s God’s, not ours.

I love an old spiritual that the gospel choir at St. Gerard’s used to sing.  The chorus of the song says, “He ain’t always there when you want Him, but He’s always right on time.”  That’s a bit humorous, but it’s quite profound.  You know, He ain’t always there when you want Him, but He’s always right on time.

Can I Get a Witness?

Third Sunday of Easter
April 14, 2024 — Year B
Readings: Acts 3:13-15, 17-19 / Ps 4 / 1 Jn 2:1-5a / Lk 24:35-48
by Rev. Jay Biber, Guest Celebrant

Some of your fellow parishioners are away on a Cursillo weekend.  If you are not familiar with that word, it’s a Spanish word which means “a short course.”  In Christianity, it began almost a hundred years ago as a way of revitalizing the Faith among lay people.

And so, this is a women’s Cursillo going on this weekend, and like all Catholic stuff, there’s a specific order to it.  There’s reason behind it.  It’s ordered so it exposes the core elements of the Faith in an ordered way, but it’s also very personal.  There’s a lot of witnessing to people’s own experiences.  One of the things that happens is what they call the Emmaus Walk.

What we begin the gospel with today is the end of that walk.  Two discouraged disciples encounter Christ on the way to Jerusalem, on the road.  They are so discouraged and heartsick.  They think that everything they hope for is gone.  They meet the risen Christ, but they don’t recognize Him, and He explains it all.  He lays it all out to them – this is how it had to happen.  And then at the end, when did they recognize Him?  This is the breaking of the bread; that’s when they recognize Him.

The women on Cursillo this weekend are from as far Charlottesville, Harrisonburg, Waynesboro, Roanoke, this whole part of the state.  On this Emmaus Walk, two participants are paired with each other; they go out and walk for half an hour.  They are a couple of days into this experience already, and it’s probably begun to shake up their hearts a little bit.  This is the time when they’re saying, “This is the time; what’s going on in there?”  They get a chance to talk; and they know they won’t be judged.  They probably don’t know the other person to start with.  But they know that God is at work, and it’s a good opportunity to put their faith into words.

At the core of our Faith is the capacity to take into the world, sort of like charity.  It begins at home, but it doesn’t end there.  The giving of witness, a testimony is a way of doing that.  Telling the stories begins at home, but it doesn’t end there.  The allusions to witnessing are strong.  If you believe you have a gift to give, a gift around which you can organize your whole life, a gift that echoes through the ages, that gift can be shared with simple people, complicated people, rich people, poor people, educated, not educated people.  We can give that gift to our children by telling them here’s where you are, you’re a member of this family, you belong here, you’re not just some piece adrift in the universe.  As you’re at this table, you’re part of a great family, and it goes way, way back in time and every place on Earth.

Think about Peter in the Acts of the Apostles.  He says the author of life you put to death, but God raised him from the dead.  Of this we are witnesses.  That’s what the apostles were doing – being witnesses and giving a testimony.  And then of course in the gospel, it is Jesus himself.  Thus, is it written – He’s laying out what you can do with your children and tell them the stories that say that Christ would suffer and rise from the dead.  So, you don’t have to panic or run away.  No – He said this was going to happen and that repentance for the forgiveness would be preached in his name.  Where?  To all the nations.  And you are witnesses of these things.

In the summer of 1983, I had completed my seminary studies but had declined ordination in 1972.  I went into the business world, enjoyed the heck out of it, and thought I’d be married with a family by 1982.  But it didn’t happen, and I began to consider ordination.  People asked if it was the hand of God, and I said no, I think it was the foot!  He was nagging me.  I thought I had a better idea, but long story short, I was in Boston at the time, and happened to meet the bishop; he asked if I wanted to go to school.  I said no, I need to decide if I have enough faith for something like this, and I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.  I needed to know if people would think I was any good at it.  I said I don’t know what I think; you’ll have to throw me in the pool.  So, he did; I started off at six months at St. Vincent DePaul by the shipyard in Newport News.  That was a special blessing because it was way ahead of its time in a lot of ways.  It was a very integrated parish.  I sang with the folk group and a gospel choir both.

When summer came, I knew this would be a real test because I worked up at what was then called Medical College of Virginia in Richmond.  I liked it, because it was a combination of the hospitals I had known in Boston, a little of Mass General, and a little bit of Boston City Hospitals – Mass General being the high-end teaching place for all the exotic stuff, and Boston City being a tough hospital in the inner city.  MCV (now VCU Medical Center) was both.  I spent ten weeks there in the summer of ’83.  And I was a wreck at the end of it – we were on call two nights a week and saw all that comes in in the course of a night.  My special unit was the burn unit in which people come from all over.  I also had general surgery which included a lot of gunshot and knife wounds. These are tough places to be.  I wondered if I could bring faith to this whole world, not just to Catholics.  It was awful at the time, but it did the trick, and I decided that I could go on.

At the same time, I realized that I was going to benefit from being there.  Broad Street in Richmond is a great dividing line between white and black neighborhoods.  And there I was on campus at VCU staying in one of the dorms.  And somebody recommended that I visit a Baptist Church right near here – Cedar Street Baptist.  So, I would go to Mass at St. Peter’s (the original Cathedral for our diocese) near the state capital, and then I’d go to Cedar Street Baptist, and there I experienced my introduction into this brilliant black culture, where the whole idea of witnessing is very important.  The gospel choir and the preaching are very important, and they would say that it’s not even a prayer until you break a sweat.  There’s an energy to it; ours is beautiful but much more modest.  There are so many beautiful ways to pray.  So, we’d be singing and then there was a quiet, beautiful ritual to it.  As it warmed up, you’d hear the Amen Corner.

We have our own Amen Corner; we have the back and forth which is a core of our worship.  “The Lord be with you.”  “And with your spirit.”  “Lift up your hearts.”  “We lift them up unto the Lord.”  We do that throughout the whole liturgy.  The antiphon is the back-and-forth prayer.  In the black churches, there was a time when the church was the only place they could legally meet.  The church was where everyone was at home, and as the preacher would warm up, people would say, “Come on now, preach!” to encourage.  At some point, he would ask, “Can I get a witness?”  They recognized the depth.  Of course, this is a witness that’s gone through things that you can’t imagine.  This is a witness that goes back how many generations?  A witness where the only one was God; the only one was Christ.

What a lesson.  You know, the centrality of the witness that would tell the story and break out into a testimony.  I had an event this past week in Lexington where there were a lot of college kids.  There was free pizza – what’s not to love?  The program was on loss and joy and included a bunch of kids from W&L and VMI and also parishioners.  I told them that I look at them differently than their professors do, because I look at you and I say, I want you to be ready to be able to your 3-year-old seven years from now, to be able to give a witness to your 10-year-old, to your 16-year-old, to put the story of your faith on your own lips, and learn how to do it with great confidence.  I want to say that you want to have children, that you are not afraid, and I have the big story of our Faith to tell them, and the personal stories that go with it – the personal stories that illumine the big story.  And I said that’s what I like to see.  Of course, giving a witness is a little bit like dancing – you’re scared stiff because you move one foot and you don’t know what the other is going to do yet.

But what a beautiful gift to give – it’s how the faith gets spread to the corners of the earth.  Our way of looking at things, telling the big story, as those women are doing on their Cursillo this weekend, telling their stories as well.  It becomes an enormous gift, because I know that whatever happens to my child, in success or in moments of difficulties, Christ will be there.  I’ll have words on my lips to say that we don’t have to run from anyone.

Answer the Call

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
January 21, 2024 — Year B
Readings: Jon 3:1-5, 10 / Ps 25 / 1 Cor 7:29-31 / Mk 1:14-20
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

There is a story about a despondent man who came to his mother and said, “Mom, I’ve stopped going to church, for two reasons.   First, I don’t like the people and second, the people don’t like me.”  And the mother looked at him and said, “My son, you should go back to church for two reasons.  First, you are already fifty-nine years old and second, you are the pastor!”

But, brothers and sisters, as we reflect on the readings for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, we are invited to ponder the profound concept of Divine Calling.  In the gospel, we witnessed the pivotal moment when Jesus called Simon, Andrew, James, and John to become fishers of men.  This summons, with its immediacy and simplicity, carries timeless significance for each of us.  The gospel narrative unfolds with a sense of urgency, mirroring the immediacy of Jesus’ call.

In our own lives, we may hear the echoes of that same call, urging us to respond promptly and wholeheartedly to the divine invitation.  Jesus calls us to a life of discipleship, to follow Him with courage and conviction.  Simon, Andrew, James, and John provide us with inspiring models of immediate obedience.  Without hesitation they leave their nets and professions in order to follow Jesus.  Their response challenges us to examine our own readiness to abandon whatever may be holding us back from fully embracing our calling.

The metaphor of fishers of men calls us to engage actively in the mission of spreading God’s love and compassion.  We are called not merely to catch fish, but to cultivate relationships, to cast the net of love and inclusion.  This mission beckons us to be present in our communities, reaching out to those who may be lost or in need of hope and help.

A story was told about a pious Christian lady who had to do a lot of traveling for her business, so she did a lot of flying.  But flying made her nervous, so she always took her Bible along with her to read, and it helped her to relax.  One day she was sitting next to a man who didn’t believe in God.  When he saw her pull out her Bible, he gave a little chuckle and went back to what he was doing.  After a while, he turned to her and asked, “Do you really believe all the stuff in there?”  The lady replied, “Of course I do.  It’s the Bible – the Word of God.”   The man said, “Well, what about that guy that was swallowed by that whale?”  She replied, “Oh. Jonah.  Yes, I believe that.  The Bible says that Jonah was swallowed by a whale, and I believe it, and if it had said that Jonah had swallowed the whale, I would believe that too.”  The man laughed and asked, “Well, how do you suppose he survived all that time inside the whale?”  The lady answered, “Well, I don’t really know, but I guess when I get to heaven, I will ask him.”  “What if he is not in heaven?” the man asked sarcastically.  “Then you can ask him when you reach hell,” the lady replied.

Brothers and sisters, in the first reading, we encountered Jonah’s mission to Ninevah.  Here, too, we witnessed the transformative power of responding to God’s call.  The people of Ninevah heed Jonah’s warning and repent.  This reminds us that our response to God’s call can have a profound impact, not only on our lives, but on the lives of those around us.

In fact, the entire readings of today’s liturgy emphasize the absolute need for total repentance and our immediate need for a quick and prompt response to God’s invitation to repentance.  Whereby, we face God’s wrath of perpetual destruction in hellfire should we ever play down the entire content of divine revelation, seeking our redress as portrayed in the funny response of the pious traveler to the atheist in the story.

In the second reading, St. Paul orders the Corinthian Church to waste no time in embracing the message of the Good News and in renewing their lives with repentance.  Whereas, the gospel reading describes the summary of Jesus’ preaching, “Repent, and believe in the Good News.”  It also describes how Jesus called His first set of disciples, Andrew, Peter, James, and John, which portrays how we sinners need to respond to God’s call with total commitment by abandoning our accustomed style of sinful life.

Today’s readings are all rather extraordinary.  Each of them shows an immediate and wonderful response.  First Jonah preaches, and the Ninevites surprisingly repent and change immediately.  Then Paul calls upon everyone to live in the immediate moment, for the day of the Lord is imminent.  Then Jesus calls His disciples, and they leave immediately.

Jesus’ call is offering a whole new world, a new vision and a new set of relationships.  The values of the Gospel are revealed in their fullness.  If the disciples had paused and thought about what they were doing, they could have dreamed up heaps of reasons why they should not go – their business, their insecurities, and so on.  They did not let these things get in the way.

Thank goodness they responded to the call straightaway.  This is not encouraging recklessness, because surely Jesus called people after a lot of prayer and discernment, and He called disciples whom He had observed were already living in the way that showed their longing for the value of the Kingdom to be established in its fullness. Along comes Jesus and He says, “The time has arrived.  Come, follow me.”  And they do – immediately.  It is what they had been waiting for.

In our lives, brothers and sisters, Jesus calls each one of us in big and small ways.  In the daily events of life, in our words, actions, and priorities, let us respond immediately and with trust.  As we reflect on the readings today, let us prayerfully consider the nature of God’s call in our lives.  Are we attuned to His voice?  Are we ready to leave behind our nets and respond with unwavering trust?  May the example of the first disciples inspire us to embrace our calling with joy and purpose, recognizing that in our response lies the potential for transformation, both for ourselves and for the world.

Give to God What is God’s

Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 22, 2023 — Year A
Readings: Is 45:1, 4-6 / Ps 96 / 1 Thes 1:1-5b / Mt 22:15-21
by Rev. Mr. Mark De La Hunt, Permanent Deacon

The Church has done her usual wonderful job of choosing a collection of readings that help us enter into the gospel with the right frame of mind. Isaiah tells us God is Lord and “there is no other” (Is 45:5). In Psalm 96, King David, fresh from bringing the Ark of the Covenant back to Jerusalem, writes, “Declare His glory among the nations.…The Lord reigns” (Ps 96:3,10).  In Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, he wrote, “He has chosen you; for our gospel came to you in power and in the Holy Spirit…” (1 Thes 1:4).  So the right frame of mind is that Jesus, who is God, is the King of the Universe and we are His people, made so by the Holy Spirit.

King David points out God’s kingship in today’s Psalm, declaring that He reigns. Where is God’s throne? It is in heaven, yes, but Jesus also reigns in our very bodies.  Paul, in 1 Corinthians 6:19, says God made our bodies into a temple of the Holy Spirit. Thus, Paul can say to the Thessalonians that they received the Gospel in the Holy Spirit. That Jesus made our bodies into temples is a key to today’s gospel.

Let’s use our imaginations and enter into this gospel by composing the scene. Return to this scene whenever your mind starts to wander. Jesus is in the great Temple of Jerusalem, the greatest religious structure in the kingdom of Rome. Its area would cover 35 football fields and it is several stories tall. The stone walls are thick, with some stones weighing several hundred tons. “Its appearance is radiant with polished marble and gold adornments.” (Mitch/Sri, 302) Jews, Gentiles, and priests are bustling about. The air is filled with many voices and other sounds, and the smell of smoke and incense. You are there, taking a seat to listen to the famous rabbi, Jesus, speak.

If you recall, the next thing we need to do before we unpack the gospel, is to ask Jesus for the grace we desire to receive from this encounter with Him. And today, Jesus tells us, through the lips of his enemies, what that grace is. The disciples of the Pharisees asked Jesus, “Tell us, then, what You think” (Mt 22:7).  In other words, we want the grace of interior knowledge of Jesus’ mind and heart; knowledge not written in the book but given to us by grace through the Holy Spirit.

Now, we play out the scene. Jesus is standing at the top of some steps. We are sitting at the front of the crowd at the base of the steps, eager to hear what He has to say. We have heard of His time in the temple, verbally jousting with the priests and elders. He has really started to stir things up. Knowing that, we are not surprised when some disciples of the Pharisees arrive, pushing their way through the crowd, brushing by you, and walking up a few of the stairs, but staying lower than Jesus.

What does surprise us is that they are accompanied by Herodians, traitors who have consorted with the Romans! The Pharisees’ disciples start lavishing praise on Jesus, but you can tell by the look on their faces, it is not sincere.  “Teacher, we know that you are true, and teach the way of God truthfully, and care for no man; for you do not regard the position of men” (Mt 22:16).  You have to admit, though, that what they said really is how you see Jesus. But then comes their trap, which in your opinion, is so predictable of that group. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?”  Oh no. You want to yell out to Jesus, “Do not answer that question. It is a trap.”

You know that if He says do not pay the taxes, the Herodians will have him arrested and tortured for instigating a tax revolt (Mitch/Sri, 285.) If He says pay the tax, He will look like a Roman sympathizer, discrediting Himself in the eyes of the Jews. (Ibid.)  But then you recall how He has handled Himself before today, and you get a knowing grin on your face. This is going to be good.

Jesus asks the Pharisees’ disciples for a coin that pays the tax, and they give him a Roman denarius. Hypocrites, you think to yourself. They carry coins for taxes like everyone else!  Those coins have an image of Caesar with the blasphemous words, “Son of the divine Augustus” on one side and “high priest” on the other. (Mitch/Sri, 286) Sure enough, Jesus says, “Why are you testing me, you hypocrites” (Mt 22: 18)?  And then He sets their heads spinning. After they tell Him the image on the coin is Caesar’s, He tells them, “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God” (Mt 22:20-21).

His adversaries leave in stunned silence, brushing by you on their way out.  While triumphantly smirking at them, you suddenly remember the grace you asked for and get up the courage to raise your hand and to ask Jesus a question. “Lord, I get that paying our taxes does not compromise our duty to God, but tell us what it means to repay to God what belongs to God?” (Mitch/Sri, 286)

Jesus begins to explain, and you and the crowd grow silent again, glad that Jesus sent the hypocrites packing. He looks at you with fondness and His gaze fills you with warmth and joy. He says, “The Roman denarius bears Caesar’s image, so it belongs to him and should be returned to him.” But, looking at you, He asks, “What is it that belongs to God? Hmm?”  You kind of freeze up and your mind goes blank. You can feel the crowd staring at you. Jesus does not want you to feel embarrassed, because He sincerely loves you. He loves that you pushed your way to the front row. He loves you for not falling for the lies and games of the hypocrites.

To help you, Jesus asks you another question. “Who did God make in His image?” You smile, look around smugly at the crowd and answer, “Me! And all of us” (Gn 1: 26).  Jesus smiles with a chuckle, and says, “You have answered well.”  Someone behind you gives you a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. But then you notice Jesus staring at you looking for more. And it hits you and you shout, “Since our body bears God’s image, we must return it to Him. He is our King, and we owe Him all that we are and have! (Mitch/Sri, 286) Jesus opens His arms and makes an emphatic, “Yes!”  And then you realize that He has given you the grace we asked for, “Tell us what You think.”

To quote my boss, how do we put blue jeans on this? In other words, how do we simplify putting into practice returning to God our very self? First, we must examine our life and ask ourselves, “Where am I holding back giving myself to God because of my lack of faith?”  If you are not sure, then look for where you have fears or concerns or worries or anxieties or insecurities or, if you have none of these, then pride.

These are often revealed by your self-talk or inner voice saying, “I am too young. I am too old. I am too poor. I am too busy. I am too tired. I am not smart enough. I am not holy enough. I am too sinful. I am good right here.” Notice all these statements have something in common. They all use the words “I am.” A lack of faith can cause us to try to bear our burdens or to perform good works without God who is the great “I Am” (Ex 3:14).

If we flip these words around, we will see how silly our lack of faith is:

Too young for I Am? We have teenage saints. David was around fifteen years old when God anointed him to be a king.

Too old for I Am? Simeon, ready to die of old age, announced Jesus as the Messiah.

Too poor for I Am? Mary and Joseph were poor. Jesus was born in a barn!

Too busy for I Am? He keeps the universe in motion. He is the Lord of time and will help you find more.

Too tired for I Am? He does not sleep.  He spoke to me about this gospel before the sun rose.

Not smart enough for I Am? He makes the simple wise. St. Peter, a fisherman, in his first attempt at preaching brought three thousand to the Lord.

Not holy enough for I Am? He freed Mary Magdalene from seven demons and the sinful behaviors caused by that, and she went on to proclaim His resurrection to the twelve apostles.

Too sinful for I Am? St. Augustine wrote one of the world’s first autobiographies, candidly sharing his sins of fornication and careerism in his book, Confessions. Today, he is quoted throughout the Catechism and studied by Catholics and Protestants alike.

Our King protects us, guides us, and strengthens us. He loves when you return to God what is God’s by rendering your children to I Am in Baptism, your sins to I Am in Confession, your body, heart, and soul to I Am in Holy Communion, bowing your head to I Am in Confirmation for impartation of the Holy Spirit, rendering your tired and sick body to I Am in Holy Anointing of the Sick, rendering your best friend to I Am for His blessing of your Marriage, and rendering your sons and husbands to I Am in Holy Orders!

What more does I Am need to do for us to trust Him enough to render to Him what is His…which is you and me? Give Him yourself, your girlfriend, your boyfriend, your husband, your wife, your children, your classes, your job, your retirement, your virtues and your vices. This is how we render to God what is God’s. We give Him our good and our not so good.

Oh Great I Am, you are King of the Universe, and we render to you our very selves and ask that you reign in our bodies, your temple. Amen!

Citations

The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version, Second Catholic Edition. Ascension Publishing 2018.

Curtis Mitch & Edward Sri. Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture, The Gospel of Matthew. Baker Academic 2010.

Fraternal Correction

Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 10, 2023 — Year A
Readings: Ez 33:7-9 / Ps 95 / Rom 13:8-10 / Mt 18:15-20
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Sometimes in the Bible we come across certain passages that are as relevant and practical in our lives today as they were a thousand years ago when they were first written.  Today’s readings are good examples of such passages. Together they remind us that, as faithful Christians, it is our responsibility to reach out to our not-so-faithful brothers and sisters and bring them back into the fold.  They even go on to recommend practical steps for how to go about doing this.

A young woman, Lydia, strayed from the church as a teenager.  After nine years of experimenting with atheism, spiritism, and New Age, she found her way back again to the Church, by the grace of God.  Relating her story, Lydia said that what hurt her most was that, in all her years of spiritual exile, nobody in the Church missed her.  Nobody ever phoned or visited to find out what was wrong.  “I got the impression that the Church did not want me,” she said.

Of course, the Church wants her, but what are we doing to help the many men and women in her situation to find their way back into full communion with the Church?  Today’s readings invite us to review our “I don’t care” attitude toward fallen and lapsed members of the Church, reminding us that, yes, it should be our business to reach out to them.

Why should it be our business whether somebody else decides to serve God or not?  As members of the Church, we are not just priestly people who offer a sacrifice.  We are also a prophetic people, meaning that we are God’s spokespersons.

Today’s first reading is, in fact, a compact job description that God gave to the prophet Ezekiel on what it means to be a prophetic person.  The first reading is a passage in the new phase of the prophetic ministry of Ezekiel, and it occurs in the context of an invasion of Palestine by a hostile army.  Just as a watchman who warns the people of impending danger is not to be blamed if they do not listen, so Ezekiel is not to be blamed if the people to whom he preaches do not reform their lives.  But if he fails to preach to them, then he must accept the blame.

St. Paul, in the second reading, reminds everyone that love is the key to obeying each of the commandments.  Real love is love that looks out for the interest of other people.  For a person who really loves, other people come first.  In the passage from Matthew, Jesus gives an instruction in how to handle a refractory disciple.  The instruction describes a formal procedure in three steps:

Step One:  private confrontation.  If there is no success, then the next step is recommended.

Step Two:  the use of one or two additional formal witnesses.  Failure here leads to a final step.

Step Three:  Resort to the community, such as the local church.  If there is no success here, the disciple is to be placed outside the communion of believers, as we say ‘excommunicated’.

Members of the Church who view church membership as being the same as citizenship in a civil government should think twice after hearing today’s reading.  In a civil society, objection about fundamental policy is not only at times permitted; disagreement is at times required in order to be loyal to God.

But the Church in its fundamental teachings lives at a level much more profound.  The leaders of the Church are invested with the authority of God, which means that they have to move within the bounds indicated to them by God, such as by being attentive to the scripture and tradition, the two sources of revelation.

Leaders of the Church in fundamental matters cannot do whatever they feel like.  They are responsible to God for the flock entrusted to them.  If they neglect to proclaim the message entrusted to them, God will hold them responsible.  They are invested with the authority of God.  But this authority is designed to help them and all of the Church’s members listen to God’s voice in the profoundly important matters of life, involving principles of moral and religious actions.

The Church can function as it should only if all of its members — leaders and non-leaders alike — obey the fundamental call of Jesus to love.  But precisely because love is the fundamental law of the Church’s existence, decisive action with Church leaders is at times necessary, if they are to remain true to their calling by God.

God clearly wants everybody to be saved.  He does not desire the death of a sinner.  “Do I find pleasure in the death of the wicked?” says the Lord God.  “Do I not rejoice when they turn from their evil way and live?  (Ez 18:23).”  That is why Jesus teaches us in the gospel about fraternal correction; how to correct an erring brother and bring him back to the path of salvation.

Underlying the whole thing should be genuine love or charity.  For St. Paul says in the second reading, “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another.”  God’s law of love asks all of us to be vigilant, not only for outside dangers, but also to keep watch within.  Keep guard and watch over our hearts to ensure that we love as God loves, and our hearts do not harden into legalism, lack of compassion and mercy, or apathy.  We’re all sentinels, watchpersons, vigilant for any discord, hatred, or inconsistency with the Gospel, and vigilant within ourselves for resentment, jealousy.  Desire begins in the heart.

We now see the rapid and unrelenting spread of evil and immorality and sin in our world.  Shall we continue being passive and impervious to all this?  Unless we do something now, we may find ourselves the next on defense.  As the famous quotation from Edmund Burke says, “All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”

Let the gospel this Sunday inspire and empower us to proclaim the truth courageously, to denounce evil and sin resolutely, and to correct wrongdoers in truth and charity.  The essence of discipleship and faithfulness to God is love.  This is a love that is formed from within by God’s grace.  It fosters loving watchfulness inside and out, and it softens the heart and saves us from ourselves.  It turns us back toward each other and creates understanding, healing, and reconciliation.  For us Christians, goodwill and kindness are not things we may choose to do or not to do.  It is a debt we owe to each and every one.

Eyes Fixed on Jesus

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 13, 2023 — Year A
Readings: 1 Kgs 19:9a, 11-13a / Ps 85 / Rom 9:1-5 / Mt 14:22-33
by Rev. Nixon Negparanon, Pastor

Visitors to the Holy Land like to take a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee, the sea that Jesus walked.  A certain tourist wanted such a ride, and the boatman told him that the fare was $150.

“One hundred fifty dollars!” exclaimed the tourist.  “That’s why Jesus just walked.”

If we go deeper into the gospel passage for today, this story of Jesus’ walking on the sea teaches us a lot about who Jesus is, about the Church and her journey through the world, and about the life of faith of individual believers.

First is the lesson about Jesus.  The miracle of Jesus’ walking on the sea shows that Jesus is Lord and has authority over all forces, natural and supernatural.  The Jews believed that the sea is the domain of supernatural demonic forces.  A rough and stormy sea is regarded as the work of these hostile spirits.  By walking on the raging waves and calming the storm, Jesus is showing Himself to be One who has power and control over these hostile spiritual powers.

There are Christians who have surrendered their lives to the Lord but still live in constant fear of evil spirits, sorcery, witchcraft, potions, and curses.  There are many of us who go to fortune tellers and ask them, “What is ahead of us?”  Many of us, too, read horoscopes to know what will happen to us during the day.  Today’s gospel readings bring us the good news that these powers of darkness stand no chance at all when Jesus is present and active in our lives and affairs.

The second lesson is about the Church.  The boat on the sea is one of the earliest Christian symbols for the Church in her journey through the world.  Just as the boat is tossed about by the waves, so is the Church pounded from all sides by worldly and spiritual forces hostile to the kingdom of God.  In the midst of crisis, Jesus comes to strengthen the faith of the Church.  He assures us that no matter how strong the storm of life is at the moment, He is always to remain with His Church, and He keeps His promise always.

Some of our priests and bishops in the past have felt the persecution of the Roman emperors, the threat of the Anti-Christ, and heresies.  The sexual conduct of some priests has cracked the Church.  But the Church still exists and will continue to exist in the future, because Christ is with His Church.

The third lesson is about the individual believer.  The first rule I learned regarding driving a motor vehicle is: Keep your eyes on the road always.  And not on the steering wheel, not on the clutch or the accelerator, because if we do that we will certainly crash.  The sight of Jesus walking on the sea, especially the involvement of Peter in the story, is a lesson for us who are tempted to take our eyes off of Jesus and to take more notice of the threatening circumstances around us.

Peter had said to Jesus, “Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water” (Mt 14:28). Jesus gives him the command, “Come” (Mt 14:29).  But when Peter noticed the strong wind, he became frightened and began to sink (Mt 14:30).

The strong wind in our lives could be sickness, death, poverty, family problems, inability to correct unjust conditions, difficulty in finding decent work, apathy, impatience, the urge to give up in despair, and many more.  Why did Peter sink?  When Peter kept his eyes fixed on Jesus, he walked upon water well enough.  But when he took notice of the danger he was in and focused on the waves, he became afraid and began to sink.  So, today’s gospel reading holds the spiritual message for each one of us to focus our eyes on God at all times, and to fulfill His will.

Keeping our eyes focused on Jesus could be difficult.  The gospels suggest three ways to us on how to do it.  First, let us recognize that we cannot save ourselves.  Like Peter, we have to face the fact that he could not save himself as he was slowly sinking.  Some of us may have trouble admitting that we can’t make it through life on our own, but we can’t.  We really can’t.  It is not weakness to admit that we need God.  It is foolish to think we don’t.

Second, reach out to Jesus.  After we admit that we cannot save ourselves, reach out to Jesus like Peter did, and cry out to the Lord when we slip, “Save me!”  But how?

One way could be by going to Confession.  Reach out to Jesus in the Eucharist, and then reach out by seeking the help of Christian friends who will support us in our efforts to keep our eyes on Him.  In other words, the three C’s of reaching out to Jesus are Confession, Communion, and Community.

Third, keep your grip on Jesus strong, like Peter did. He held onto Jesus for dear life.  That is why he eventually made it back to the boat safely.  How do we keep our grip on Jesus strong?  That is through prayer, studying our faith in His words, and by making the daily effort to put our faith into practice.  If we take prayer seriously, and not just make a few formal prayers to satisfy our consciences, if we study our faith diligently, and if we make the effort to live it out there in the world, then our grip on the Lord will not loosen.

If we lose our grip and fall into serious sin and suffering, then let us go back to Step One and start all over again.  As long as we make Christ our vision, our point of arrival, and the center of our lives, we can survive.  We believe that when big storms come our way, God is always there to help, and rescue us.  We have to trust Him.

May the Lord increase our little faith, so that through all the storms of life, we should have our eyes and our trust constantly fixed on Jesus and His power and not on ourselves and our weaknesses.