Search

Results

The light of the world

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fourth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: 1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41 WE DO NOT SEE as God sees. We see the appearance, but God looks into the heart. That message came home to the prophet Samuel, as he looked down the row of Jesse's fine and handsome sons. He was on a quest for the next leader of Israel. Israel's first king, Saul, was large and powerful, charismatic and courageous in battle. But in fact Saul had made a dreadful ruler, vain and unwise. So Samuel was taking his time in reviewing Jesse's able sons. God told him this was the right house, but Samuel feared these were the wrong sons. Being a seer, he knew which question to ask: "Are these all the sons you have?" Samuel knew there was nothing wrong with what he was seeing. It was what he was not seeing that was the key to his mission. And so he met David and anointed the rightful king over Israel. That is our first lesson in discernment, which could be defined as learning to see as God sees. Beyond the surface of things lies the essence of reality that we often call the heart of the matter. At the core of people and circumstances is a truth much more powerful than what we observe with our eyes. But because it takes time and wisdom to navigate to the core, mostly we dismiss it in favor of what delights us at first glance. On the surface of things the man born blind was a luckless individual. Either he was a terrible sinner or a product of sin. At least that was the popular theory of the day. God had deprived him of his sight for a reason. Jesus did not disagree with that assessment. And he suggested that the reason was not what people thought. The blind man wasn't a signpost of the effects of sin; he was a receptacle for God's imminent glory. Jesus took the apparent situation and turned it on its head. Which is what Jesus often did with accepted reality. Think about the popular assumptions Jesus overthrew: Suffering wasn't payback for sin but an opportunity for grace. Death was not the trapdoor of the underworld but the gateway to eternal life. The poor had the kingdom given to them. The meek would inherit what the powerful had to surrender. The last, incredibly, would be first. Think about the popular assumptions Jesus overthrew: Suffering wasn't payback for sin but an opportunity for grace. Death was not the trapdoor of the underworld but the gateway to eternal life. Because Jesus saw to the heart of the matter, he knew the man born blind could see far better than the religious leaders around him The comedy that emerges from the cure demonstrates that. All of a sudden the man's neighbors aren't sure this is the fellow they've seen on his stoop all their lives. Isn't this man supposed to be blind? The Pharisees study this act of God and absurdly conclude that its roots are in sin. They drag in the parents to testify on behalf of a grown man, which is lunacy of course; but that's how little the personhood of this man is respected. Finally they put the man formerly known as blind back on the witness stand and insist he disavow the "sinner" who cured him. Naturally, this he cannot do. With utter simplicity, he declares: "If this man is a sinner, I do not know. But one thing I do know: I was blind and now I see." Clarity of vision in the face of the miraculous is one thing the authorities cannot take away, not with all their arguments and certitudes. The fellow now more properly known as "the man who sees" encounters Jesus a second time. Jesus asks him if he believes in the apocalyptic figure of the Son of Man. The man who sees knows instinctively which question to ask. He doesn't engage in theological queries about the meaning of this figure. He asks only, "Who is he?" Like the prophet Samuel he waits only to be pointed in the right direction. And Jesus points to himself: "The one speaking with you is he." We recognize these words from the encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well. The one people are seeking is always the one whose words they are already hearing. We, too, stand in the presence of Jesus. We wait for truth like a compass to point us to the way of life. We hear the word of God proclaimed in our midst and recognize that the one who speaks is the one our hearts have been yearning for. To our hearts Jesus is true north. If we follow the sound of his voice, we can never be lost. Jesus, we believe and profess, is the light of the world who opens the eyes of the blind so they might see. Elect and baptized, we want to see as God sees, with the clear vision of discernment. We seek to know the heart of the matter as we make choices in our relationships, in our labor, in the things dearest to each of us. We know the cure for our blindness: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fourth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens 1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a Ephesians 5:8-14 John 9:1-41

Restricted
Go with God's word

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Rite of Sending WHAT CAN BE MORE POWERFUL than the Word of God? My friends, what other force on this earth or beyond it has the ability to create and transform the world like the initiating, sustaining divine Word? God spoke—and worlds came into being. When God speaks, the Bible tells us, mountains move, valleys are filled, and highways appear in the desert. Once God calls a thing into being, it exists, it happens. And when God chose to speak a word-made-flesh into human history, Jesus became one with us in the same way he is one with God. God’s Word is alive, scripture says, and it penetrates our hearts (Hebrews 4:12). This living Word can renew our hearts when they have grown tired of love’s betrayals, and this Word can transform our hearts when they become full of the darkness of our own poor choices. This Word is so powerful, in fact, that according to today’s gospel, even the devil wants to use it! Did you listen to the story of how Jesus faces off with the tempter in the desert? The first two times the devil speaks, Jesus answers him with a quote from scripture. So the third time the devil speaks, he quotes the Bible twice! But the words are misused in the mouth of one who does not have faith. That’s what Saint Paul tells us: “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” We have to do both: Say it and believe it! We can profess all the creeds we want, call ourselves Christians, use all the right formulas, but without taking God’s Word into our hearts and letting it transform our lives from within, we’re no better than the tempter. This is the real definition of “using God’s name in vain”—not cussing with it, but rather speaking about God and performing the rituals of religion and not intending to change our lives at all. So let’s not make this mistake! We have an opportunity given to us in every single moment to get serious about our faith, to say it and believe it and let it go to work in our lives. God’s Word was powerful enough to create worlds, remember: Surely there’s enough oomph in it to change your heart and mine. We have an opportunity given to us in every single moment to get serious about our faith, to say it and believe it and let it go to work in our lives. IN OUR COMPANY TODAY are some special folks who have been praying and studying God’s Word with us for months in preparation for adult baptism into the life of faith [as well as those Christians who have been preparing to be received into full communion with our Catholic Church]. These catechumens [and candidates] will be presenting themselves before the bishop this afternoon at the cathedral and celebrating what is known as the Rite of Election. When we hear that word, election, we presume that votes are to be cast. And in a real sense, votes have been cast in favor of these women and men. Our RCIA team with its catechists and supporters has voted on behalf of the readiness of these friends in our midst. And their godparents [and sponsors] will stand with them today and cast their vote of approval as well. And we, the people of [N.] parish, are participating in the election of these hopeful new members by our presence in this assembly. As we send them off to the cathedral today, they go with God’s blessings and our prayers and support. The Word of God has reached into these women and men, enlivening them with the desire to join our community and share the adventure of faith with us. We who have been “church” for a while now also have a responsibility to admit this active Word into our lives if we haven’t already done so; or to embrace it more deeply and deliberately if we have. “The Word is near you,” Saint Paul reminds us. It’s all around us this morning: in the readings from scripture, in Jesus our word offered to us in the sacrament, in the words-made-flesh of every person here in this gathering of the church. God’s Word is alive in our midst, and it won’t disappoint. If we invite this transforming force into our lives, every dream God ever had for us will come true. SO LET’S LEAVE IT to the forces of darkness to spout pious words and not to live them; or to speak God’s name in vain and not put faith in divine goodness. As we begin this Lenten season together, we confirm that we cannot live on bread alone—or on any of the empty promises of worldly goals. Every word that comes from the mouth of God brings life. If you were offered even one more day of living, wouldn’t you take it?

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent First Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Rite of sending scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens

Restricted
Living water

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Third Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Exodus 17:3-7; Romans 5:1-2, 5-8; John 4:5-42 I MOVED to a desert town some time ago, for reasons that had less to do with the desert than with the city. Urban life had become too expensive, loud, complicated, and distracting. I decided to look for life in the slow lane. After hunting through various communities near the beach, in the mountains, and on the back roads, I wound up on the edge of the Mojave Desert. As far as the eye could see, there wasn't much to see. I stayed. In the desert I have learned a lot about water, more than I knew during the 15 previous years living near the ocean. When you are close to a body of water, it becomes an aesthetic element. You appreciate it enormously: It's part of the view, and maybe a source of entertainment. It could even be your livelihood. But in the desert, the tie to water is immediate, instinctive, and critical. You have to have it close at hand, all the time, or risk injury or fatality. Near the ocean I often felt thirsty and looked around for a place to get a drink. In the desert I don't get thirsty. If you go so far as to feel thirst, it may already be too late: Dehydration has begun. The remarkable heat combined with a novel lack of humidity leeches the moisture from your body around the clock. Water is now a preventative, a staple item in every hour, a thing I resort to long before I am ever aware I need it. When I read scripture about water now, I think I finally get it. These desert people aren't talking about having a drink, as city folk do. They are talking about the difference between life and death. These desert people aren't talking about having a drink, as city folk do. They are talking about the difference between life and death. I used to think of the Israelites in the desert as a bunch of ungrateful children. How they quarrel, forgetful of all God has done for them! They turn up their noses at the spectacle of the ten plagues, the parting of the Red Sea, and liberation after generations of slavery. All they know is what they want now. But having walked for an hour on a hot day under the desert sun myself, I realize they could not go forward without water. It wasn't simply that they were thirsty. They were ill. Their heads ached, their eyes burned, their stomachs were wrenched. They were desperately in need of water. But the Israelites were guilty of one thing: They had little confidence in God or Moses. They needed water, but they didn't ask for it. They just complained and accused. If you had asked them the question that appears at the end of the story—"Is the Lord in our midst or not?"—the answer would have been a resounding no. Even then God demonstrates that the power to produce water from a rock is available to those who call upon the name of the Lord. Too bad they didn't call on that name. Too bad the only name they invoked was "Egypt." Today we stand before the Lord as did the woman who encountered him at the well in Samaria. We are thirsty in ways we cannot dream of, just as she was, as all desert people are who live in an environment that is hostile to them. We are made for God's kingdom, yet we live under the tyranny of sin. We hope for eternal life, but our mortal bodies are going the way of suffering and death. We eat and drink and do all we can to sustain health and strength. But all the forces around and within us are heading the other way. No matter what we do, moths, rust and decay are winning. We only have to invoke one name with confidence to reverse the odds and gain the victory. The Samaritan woman struggled to find that name. When she met Jesus, she saw him as a "Jew" and a "man." She knew lots of both: She didn't have much use for either. But he impressed her so much that, in rapid order, she addressed him as "sir" then wondered if he were a prophet and finally if he might be the Christ who is coming. In the end, thanks to her, the entire town came to know Jesus as "truly the savior of the world." When the woman left the well to run back to town, she abandoned her water jar. She had come to that place to get the one thing needful for life. In the encounter with Jesus, she found it. We Lenten people arrive at this point in the desert together. Elect and baptized, we know that the waters of Baptism are the one thing needful, the invitation to eternal life. We know we can leave the jar we brought with us on the outside of this invitation—we won't be needing it anymore, to carry away the empty promises of the world. What we gain in Baptism is life itself, life to the fullest. What we find at this table is food enough to sustain us on this journey. What we have been waiting for is here, in the one whose word is the truth. We are blessed to know his name: Jesus, the Christ who is coming, our living water, the one who saves.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Third Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Exodus 17:3-7 Romans 5:1-2, 5-8 John 4:5-42

Restricted
Glory begins here

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Ezekiel 37:12-14; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45 THE SKY AWASH with color at sunset. A field covered in spring flowers. These exquisite elements of nature's design are instinctive places we might go to catch a glimpse of glory. But there are others: a moment of public honor, receiving an award for services rendered or bravery enacted. The spotlight on artistic ability, intellectual achievement, or scientific invention. Or how about the common miracles of life: being chosen in love. Holding a baby in your arms. Encountering a dream come true at last. These things, too, are glorious. What we mean by glory has many interpretations. But however we use the word, we rarely mean what Jesus meant when he talked about glory. We don't go looking for it in the shame of a woman who's had five failed marriages and has grown used to being thirsty for something she cannot find. We don't peer into the face of a man born blind who has spent his life as an object of pity. We certainly don't seek glory at the deathbed of a friend, or go to the tombs where the stench of decay is already pungent. Glory, whatever it is, is an experience that exalts and uplifts us. Though we may have trouble defining it precisely, we think we know where to find it, and where not to bother looking. We often speak of "giving God the glory" as if it's something we possess that God is in need of. Technically, glory is an attribute of God. It is a trait essential to divinity and, if anything, a thing bestowed on creation from the opposite direction. Though we talk of giving glory to God, our intention is to acknowledge the glory that is already an aspect of God's nature. We often speak of "giving God the glory" as if it's something we possess that God is in need of. Technically, glory is an attribute of God. It is a trait essential to divinity and, if anything, a thing bestowed on creation from the opposite direction. Though we talk of giving glory to God, our intention is to acknowledge the glory that is already an aspect of God's nature. Glory is often equated with radiance, and that is not simply a romantic idea. Glory is something God emanates; therefore envisioning glory as a radiant quality, like the brightness Jesus displayed in his Transfiguration, makes sense. The artistic invention of the halo became a way of signifying the hallow-ness of a life that participated in making the greater glory of God known on earth. This emanation of light was often drawn as a circlet but also took other shapes. A triangular halo was used to indicate God the Father and sometimes the infant Jesus—a reminder that he remained part of the Trinity even through the journey of Incarnation. A square halo over a person's head implied sainthood in the making. A full body halo, as we see in portrayals of Our Lady of Guadalupe, was reserved only for Jesus or the Mother of God. Not every human life could reveal that much glory! John's gospel shows an acute interest in the demonstration of glory and manages to do it without any haloes. Instead, the first half of the book concentrates on seven signs that reveal the power God is capable of manifesting—and chooses to entrust to Jesus. These signs show divine authority breaking into human history, as water is turned into wine, the sick are made whole, loaves and fish are multiplied, and Jesus walks on the surface of the lake. Jesus turns poverty into abundance and impossibility into reality. But nothing comes close to what he does at the tomb of Lazarus. There death and life meet like actors and exchange roles. There the thick immutable line between the dead and the living becomes strangely permeable. When Lazarus, four days dead, comes shuffling out of his grave, something that was always true has been turned into a lie. And something that was never true becomes possible. The glory of God had not been revealed in all of human history as it was in this hour. Suddenly we learned something for sure that had until now been consigned to the realm of our hopes. In the reign of God, death and life are fluid matters, wholly under God's power to control. Though death appears final and incontrovertible to us, from God's perspective it is a twinkle in the eye of eternity. And even then, at the graveside of Lazarus, the real hour of glory had yet to arrive. The restoration of Lazarus was a sideshow compared to the Resurrection to come. In the hour of glory for which Jesus had been born, life would not simply be resuscitated but revealed as part of a new creation that would never suffer or die again. The glory of the Risen One would make him unrecognizable to those who loved him best. We still have sunsets and lilies in the field. But these quick peeks into the mystery remind us that glory awaits us just below the surface of those forbidding places we avoid: human limitation, want, suffering, and death. Poverty and impossibility are the deepest repositories for the revelation of God, which awaits only our recognition of it.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:1-45

Restricted
Love is the trump card

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Third Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Exodus 17:3-7; Romans 5:1-2, 5-8; John 4:5-42 WE'RE HALFWAY through Lent. It might be a good time to ask ourselves: What are we doing in church? I don’t mean today. I mean ultimately. What is the purpose of our being here, part of this community of faith, engaging in the spiritual quest, looking for God, striving after holiness, embracing the moral life, seeking answers to life’s questions in a religious context? That is a big question: We probably can’t answer it in a sentence. But by this time we should have some idea how to begin to address the question of why we are here, as opposed to the thousands of other places we could be on the weekend. What is the essence of our God-quest, which has led us to this assembly? Our RCIA elect have spent the past many months asking themselves questions like this, and hopefully they’ve been coming up with answers that have been personally satisfying and publicly convincing. The rest of us in our community of faith are not off the hook, however, just because we’ve got baptism and confirmation in our “mission accomplished” files. These sacramental hours may be behind us, but the unfolding of their meaning is still ahead of us. And, of course, there’s still that final sacrament of initiation, Eucharist, which is the divine gift that keeps on giving. The RCIA crowd has been working hard and purposefully toward the goal of being completely “incorporated”—that is, “taken into the body” of Christ. They’ve been faithfully studying and praying and discerning what the call of this identity in Christ entails. Some of us who have been Catholic “forever” may take this privileged identity in Christ for granted. We might all need to take this opportunity to consider what we are doing here and what we hope to learn here. The RCIA crowd has been working hard and purposefully toward the goal of being completely “incorporated”—that is, “taken into the body” of Christ. The secular well may not have much to offer the leadenhearted, but not for lack of trying. Consider the smorgasbord of consumerism, entertainment, addictions, the sexualization of almost everything, the steady wall of sound that forms the backbeat of our environment. If we grow dull from the gnawing purposelessness of our days, there is always some stimulant put before us to snap us out of the malaise. But the problem with the worldly well is that its water does not bring life. Its influence wanes, and we find ourselves needing more. We have to turn on the TV tonight and tomorrow, eat that pizza, pour that drink, or buy that new sofa. Will it bring the happiness the ads promise? How many sofas will we buy before we wake up to the realization that we’re drawing water from the wrong well? When Israel thirsted in the desert, it was an earthly well they were looking for. Their complaint betrayed a lack of trust in God and dissatisfaction with the leadership of Moses. “Why did you make us leave Egypt?” they asked—though no one made them do anything, of course. They remained in a slave-mentality, unwilling to accept responsibility for the road they were on. After water miraculously flowed for them, however, their query took an abrupt shift: “Is the Lord in our midst or not?” That was the right question to ask. It is the question people of faith must answer. If we decide that God is with us, then we have to stop going to the worldly well for the water that will never satisfy. That is why we come to church, and why we are church: to learn how to be a community of faith, hope, and love—to cultivate these three virtues. We might believe alone, and we might keep the flame of hope alive alone. But no one loves in isolation. Love is not a game of solitude. Just as God’s love seeks us, so our love seeks expression in special relationships, in commitment to the common good, and in solidarity with the last and the least. Love will not always be a joyful or painless undertaking—as Jesus on the cross reminds us—but it is one of the few things that last, and the only thing that will satisfy. The Samaritan woman instinctively knew that love was the answer. That’s why she kept returning to the well time and again, seeking communion however brokenly with this husband and that. In Jesus she found what she was looking for, and she was able to leave her bucket behind at last. She also had good news enough to share and sought out her whole village to share it with. That’s why she has become one of the classic Lenten examples of discipleship. When we’re ready to take the good news to the village, we’ll know we’ve arrived.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Third Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Exodus 17:3-7 Romans 5:1-2, 5-8 John 4:5-42

Restricted
This well is deep

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Third Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Exodus 17:3-7; Romans 5:1-2, 5-8; John 4:5-42 THE HUMAN BODY is mostly water, so it’s no surprise that thirst is a primary concern. But the thirst of the body is only one of the aches we experience when we speak of being thirsty. Thoreau pointed to another kind of thirst when he said, “The majority of men [sic] lead lives of quiet desperation.” Aldous Huxley was even more explicit about the need for something beyond food, clothing, and shelter when he wrote, “Most men and women lead lives at the worst so painful, at the least so monotonous, poor, and limited that the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and always has been one of the principle appetites of the soul.” Many of us experience the longing for transcendence from the weary routines of work, childcare, laundry, and standing in lines. At times even our most significant relationships grow stale. When love seems barren and life’s pursuits meaningless, church may be the last place we expect to find the transcendence we are waiting for. The secular well may not have much to offer the leadenhearted, but not for lack of trying. Consider the smorgasbord of consumerism, entertainment, addictions, the sexualization of almost everything, the steady wall of sound that forms the backbeat of our environment. If we grow dull from the gnawing purposelessness of our days, there is always some stimulant put before us to snap us out of the malaise. But the problem with the worldly well is that its water does not bring life. Its influence wanes, and we find ourselves needing more. We have to turn on the TV tonight and tomorrow, pour that drink, or buy that new sofa. Will it bring the happiness the ads promise? How many sofas will we buy before we wake and realize that we’re drawing water from the wrong well? But the problem with the worldly well is that its water does not bring life. When Israel thirsted in the desert, it was an earthly well they were looking for. Their complaint betrayed a lack of trust in God and dissatisfaction with the leadership of Moses. “Why did you make us leave Egypt?” they asked—though no one made them do anything, of course. They remained in slave-mentality, unwilling to accept responsibility for the road they were on. After water miraculously flowed for them, however, their query took an abrupt shift: “Is the Lord in our midst or not?” This was the right question to ask. This is the question people of faith must answer. If we decide that God is with us, then we have to stop going to the worldly well for the water that never satisfies. The Samaritan woman who meets Jesus at the well has had her fill of a lot of things. She’s had enough of foreigners, for one; men, for another; husbands, most of all. When Jesus asks her for a drink, it causes her pent-up dissatisfaction to explode. Jesus sees someone he can work with here. Here’s someone who has exposed the lie of the secular well and can’t be fooled. Yet she nurtures an interior hope that “the Messiah is coming, the one called the Christ; when he comes, he will tell us everything.” Her faith is so strong in this hope that when Jesus says, “I am he, the one speaking with you,” it’s enough for her to abandon her water jar and run to share the good news. And through her story, she shares this news with us. If we have grown tired of the lies that our society tells—about making money, acquiring the dream house or a better spouse, getting the promotion or the home entertainment center—then we can take heart at her story. If we’ve made the mistake of stacking up jobs and bills and pills and calories and partners in the relentless search for something to kill this thirst, we don’t have to feel ashamed, we just have to quit this fruitless behavior right now. What we are looking for is already here. It takes one trip to this well to be sustained for a lifetime, and more. It’s not easy to turn down the super-sized meals, that next drink, the wall of media pounding in our heads that keeps us from thoughtful reflection. Worldly pleasures are not bad, but they cannot provide meaning to our existence. Only sincere grounding in our baptismal commitment can do that. Our catechumens have stood before us all year reminding us of the living water we yearn for. Now our elect share with us a resolution to stop drinking from the wrong wells and to ask ourselves: “Is the Lord in our midst, or not?” If Christ is among us, then our service of love imbues every hour with rich purpose. Christ answers our deepest thirst, tells us everything we need to know, as the Samaritan woman says. The more we listen to his voice, the less power the cry of the world will have over us.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Third Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Exodus 17:3-7 Romans 5:1-2, 5-8 John 4:5-42

Restricted
You’re under arrest!

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fourth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: 1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41 CHRISTIANS TODAY seem to have a lot to worry about. We’re concerned with the place of prayer in public schools, posting the Ten Commandments in courthouses, getting the right judges onto the Supreme Court, and electing worthy political candidates into our government. Christians do and ought to play a prominent role in civic affairs. Our voices should be heard and our values brought to bear on the national debate. But we must not forget that the original interface between Christians and their governments was not a smooth one. On the local level the followers of Jesus were seen as rabble-rousers and troublemakers. From the view of the empire they were bad citizens and possibly a threat to the state itself. Christians apparently had their own king, their own governing authority, and their own way of life that was as countercultural as it was attractive. If the community were not contained, it was bound to spread and the threat grow ever worse. Jesus himself was arrested and put to death by the state under sentence of being “the king of the Jews.” Paul and Peter were both executed in Rome in the 60s, and by the end of the 1st century, the arrest, trial, and execution of Christians was pretty standard. It’s no wonder that the gospels include advice as to how disciples should behave before the courts; assurances that the right testimony would be provided through the Spirit’s power; frank admissions that those who can kill the body can never extinguish the life of the soul. The Acts of the Apostles even supplies the stories of famous and fearless testimonies like Stephen’s—which cost him his life—and Paul’s, which takes many turns over many years yet remains steadfast. Our RCIA elect may feel that in the past weeks and months their faith has been, in a sense, on trial before God and this community. One of the best primers for Christians under arrest is the Johannine story of the man born blind. The man doesn’t get a name, which is typical of John’s technique; he eliminates the name of Jesus’ mother, enlarging her to the role of Woman, and does not name the Beloved Disciple, permitting us all to share that space. We can therefore imagine that John wants us to understand we are all born blind and in need of a fateful encounter with Jesus to open our eyes. And in this Everyman (and Everywoman) character we also get five lessons in what to expect when our faith is on trial—as the writer of John presumes it will be, sooner or later. Lesson Number One: Tell what you know. Your life was a blind alley before you met Jesus. Now you can see. These are simple truths. You don’t have to do great theology to make the point. Lesson Number Two is a harsher one: Don’t expect support from family, friends, and neighbors. Those who have also met Jesus will see what you see. The rest will wash their hands of you. The blind cannot testify to what they don’t see. They’ll forget they even knew you! The next lesson, Number Three, takes confidence in the power of God’s Word: Don’t repeat yourself. Those who can hear will hear the first time. Those who can’t hear won’t hear the tenth time. The more you repeat yourself, the harder their hearts will grow. Lesson Number Four is serious enough to be funny: Your mature sense of humor in Christ probably won’t play well, especially among those who consider themselves religious authorities. Trying to teach the teachers will not impress or endear them to your cause either. The final lesson, Number Five, is: Jesus is not one whom we meet but once. He is always coming around again, and the next encounter rounds out the first—the way the Second Coming completes the Incarnation. So it makes no difference whether your trial ends with you being bounced into the street or into an early grave: Jesus will find you again. He knows where you live, if you live in him. Our RCIA elect may feel that in the past weeks and months their faith has been, in a sense, on trial before God and this community. They have had to tell what they know, respond to questions, and put their own lives under personal scrutiny to answer the ultimate question of this process: Am I ready to participate in the life of Christ? Am I ready to stand in the dock with the rest of Christianity and make my life, from here on out, a testimony to what I believe? Although the elect may feel particularly addressed by this issue because of their candidacy for full admission to the church, the whole assembly should feel personally challenged by the story of the man born blind and his faithful witness. None of us may be hauled off to a courtroom in our lifetime because of what we believe. But that doesn’t relieve us of the responsibility to tell what we know, simply and clearly, and to live what we know as passionately as possible.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fourth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens 1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a Ephesians 5:8-14 John 9:1-41

Restricted
Eyes to see

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fourth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: 1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41 WE ALL KNOW FOLKS who don’t appreciate what they have and are always looking for more. Take the man with a terrific wife and kids who has a fascination for a woman at the office. Or the woman with the great job and comfortable apartment who’s obsessed with getting a better job and bigger condo. People “trade up” cookware, cars, homes, and relationships with frightening regularity. Is more really better? Meanwhile credit card debt soars, marriages crumble, and landfills rise. If we had eyes to see we might discover, like Dorothy on her return from Oz, that everything we are looking for we already possess. Even prophets can be tempted to see the surface and miss the heart of things. When Samuel goes looking for the next king of Israel, he is guided to Jesse who has eight sons. But only seven sons are paraded before Samuel. Each has what the worldly eye appreciates: stature and an attractive appearance. In the average American election, any one of these sons would be telegenic enough to win office. Samuel is taken in at first, but the wisdom of God reminds him to look deeper. Once the spell of attraction is broken, Samuel sees plainly that none of these young men are suitable for the divine purpose. Even prophets can be tempted to see the surface and miss the heart of things. And so David, the youngest son with a poet’s heart, is brought from the fields. To the eye—and perhaps to the nose, because he’s fresh from the flocks—David is an impossible choice. Although sharing the family good looks, his own father dismissed him as an insignificant person. Samuel, however, looks at David from a God’s-eye view and knows, “This is the one!” Saint Paul writes that Christians have made a crucial journey from darkness into the light. It’s as if we were sleepers who have been summoned into wakefulness. Without faith, we might be taken in by the lure of “more” and “better.” In the light of Christ, we see we already have more than we need and plenty to share. Yet religious vision can be lulled back into slumber if we do not exercise it. That is what happened to the religious leaders around Jesus. Though armed with God’s revealing word, their perception was poorer than the sight of a blind man. The Pharisees looked at the man and only saw “sin” like a brand on his forehead. They were not interested in the man himself. That would have required compassion, and a sinner was not worthy of a righteous person’s mercy. When the man’s sight is restored, the authorities are thrown into a quandary. This healing wreaks havoc with the system of rewards and punishments they so dearly hold. A gratuitous miracle like this one throws a wrench in the workings of the theological machine. It implies something about the mercy of God they aren’t prepared to accept. Jesus, of course, knows that very well. The forgiveness of sin is precisely the lesson he wanted to drive home with every miraculous sign and nail of the cross. It is the cosmic monkey wrench that confounds moralists and drives the keepers of religion into utter confusion. What do we see in this elaborate story of the man once blind? First there is the innocence of the disciples, who have swallowed what they learned about the connection between sin and suffering, as many of us have. This kind of thinking is a philosophical talisman: It wards off the possibility of pain for we who don’t “deserve” it. The fact that this line of thinking doesn’t keep the pain away has not served to diminish its popularity. Then there are the neighbors of the once-blind beggar, who can’t imagine him without his blindness. Because the man before them is sighted, they question what their eyes tell them. In the choice between their eyes and their preconceptions, they close their eyes and hold fast to their preconceptions. The parents of the man born blind are frightened. They acknowledge their son, but they are afraid to acknowledge the great work God has done in him if it offends the leaders of their religion. In the choice between God and religion, they bow before religion. And what of the recipient of the miracle himself? He only knows the simple truth: that he was blind, and now he sees. And when pressed to name his allegiance, to God or to this “sinner” who healed him, the man opens his eyes even wider. “If this man were not from God,” the once-blind fellow says, “he would not be able to do anything.” Together, this Lenten assembly of elect and baptized seeks to see what the man born blind has come to see. May our vision be as clear and our confidence be in God’s mercy.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fourth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens 1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a Ephesians 5:8-14 John 9:1-41

Restricted
Our Lenten witnesses

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Ezekiel 37:12-14; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45 OUR SEASON OF LENT takes us to some mighty interesting places. We start off in the desert, and then we make the rounds to the mountaintop, the well, the courthouse, and the cemetery respectively. Is this progress? Are we getting somewhere? Should we turn back while there’s still time? Where does this road end? The short answer is: It doesn’t. That’s the good news, and we don’t need to save it like a secret for Easter. Life everlasting is the reason for every celebration the church holds daily. Though we find ourselves in the company of the devil in a wasteland, or with Jesus and the saints in a mountaintop hour, the outcome will be the same for those who believe. The well may revive us or the authorities denounce us, but our destiny doesn’t change either way. If we’re saved, we’re safe. Even death has no sting. Which brings us to the grave site of Lazarus, friend of Jesus. In the Lenten trilogy from John’s gospel, we spend quality time with the Samaritan woman, the man born blind, and now Martha, sister of Lazarus. Mary is there, too, but this is Martha’s hour to take center stage. Like our other Lenten witnesses, Martha is going to get a chance to tell what she knows. We think of that as the story of Lazarus, but in fact he’s pretty passive to the action: He’s dead, in fact. Dead and in the tomb and not available for comment. But his sisters are alive, and they are grieving his loss. And Martha, as we soon discover, is not only mourning, but she’s angry. Angry with Jesus. Because she sent word to him as soon as Lazarus became seriously ill, and she’s convinced that if Jesus had come, her brother would not have died at all. Mary presents herself as the picture of grief, falling down in tears before Jesus. But Martha arrives first, and with what amounts to a challenge: “Even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” As far as Martha is concerned, it isn’t over till it’s over. Jesus has work to do, if he so wills. And as we know from other stories, when people are in trouble, Jesus wants to help, wills to bring healing, wholeness, and hope. Martha believes and is convinced that Jesus can do anything he wants. What she’s asking right here in the road is, frankly, what he does want. If we think the dead stay dead, well then, how can Jesus raise us up to new life? No one will be dragged kicking and screaming from the tomb. Jesus finds such faith irresistible, in Martha and in us. What can Jesus do with someone who believes in him utterly? Well, we know what he can’t do when people display a lack of faith. Because God has chosen to give people free will, Jesus won’t trespass on the human heart and force faith where there is none. If we don’t believe in healing, there won’t be any, as there was none in the climate of doubt in Nazareth. If we think the dead stay dead, well then, how can Jesus raise us up to new life? No one will be dragged kicking and screaming from the tomb. Jesus asks Martha if she believes in the resurrection of the dead. She says she does. Although some of her religious leaders, the Sadducees, have pooh-poohed the idea, the Pharisees have been teaching it for some time. The dead will rise on the last day. Martha has put her trust in this hope. Then Jesus places the matter in utmost immediacy: Does Martha believe that Jesus is the resurrection, the source of life not only on the last day but right now in the present moment? Yes, Lord, she says. Then she makes an act of faith so bold it would rattle the bones in the cemetery: “I have come to believe that you are Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” There, in one sentence, is the profession of faith we make at every Mass. There is the power of the forgiveness of sin; the healing of body, mind, and spirit; the authority to raise the dead from their graves. Martha called upon it. And Jesus responded to such faith by turning and calling upon Lazarus. Applying the Word I will open your graves Is there sin in our lives? It can be forgiven! Our lives can be washed clean and made whiter than snow; we have God’s Word on this. Are there wounds that need to be healed? Jesus mends bones, hearts, minds, and relationships with the same healing touch. Do we linger in the shadow of death, or have we resided in the valley of death in the midst of life? Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and he will lead us forward from death into life if we believe it. Our elect are preparing in two short weeks to make their public profession of belief and to be received into the community of faith. The rest of us will also be asked to reaffirm that faith and to say, with Martha, that we truly believe Jesus has the authority over death and life. The Lenten road does take us into the cemetery but not to leave us there. Like Martha, and Lazarus, we discover there’s more life and more road beyond what we have so far imagined.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:1-45

Restricted
Come and see

Funeral, Sacrament-based, Holy Day, Holiday, Special Occasion - Sample homilies to be adapted for your use

Occasion: Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A Readings: Ezekiel 37:12-14; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45 WHO NEEDS HEALING? Those whose bodies are broken or failing are quick to raise their hands. But we also have more hidden sorrows that may embarrass us: depression, addiction, grief from loss, or loneliness that haunts every hour. And how about the worriers who are insecure about tomorrow? And do we count the ones who hate their jobs, feel trapped in their situations, and hunger for a reason to get up in the morning? Do they qualify for healing? How about those who live with unendurable guilt for what they’ve done or failed to do? How about the hopeless, who don’t believe things will ever get better? Can there be healing for all the burdens humanity bears, inside and out? After we consider our need for healing, we have to ask what it’s worth to be healed. Some of us will pay money to doctors and specialists, herbalists and therapists, buying pills and creams and surgeries. And in some cases that might do the trick, but sometimes money can’t buy a solution. Dedicating time may be necessary, as in the pursuit of education, learning a new trade, clearing space for a retreat, or committing to a recovery program. But time may not be enough either. What would we give to end the suffering in our lives? Are we willing to do something radical, expensive, and unthinkable? Are we willing, in fact, to change? Some of us would rather die than change. Spiritually speaking, death is precisely what we’re talking about. We are creatures of habit. Most of us could cheerfully (or balefully) curl up in the familiar and stay there all our lives. Doing things differently means we have to grow. Growth entails pushing beyond the limits of who we are and what we think we’re sure of. Think of the many forms growth takes in nature: Snakes shed their skin. Caterpillars go dormant in cocoons and emerge in a whole new form. Babies leave the safety of the womb and emerge in a blinding, buzzing world of utter vulnerability. Growth, under just about any circumstances, is a dangerous proposition. Growth and change require sacrificing the familiar for what is unknown. We have to admit our ignorance and embrace humility. Growth and change require sacrificing the familiar for what is unknown. We have to admit our ignorance and embrace humility. Growth can mean physical change, but just as often it implies changing the way we think, the wellworn grooves of our attitudes, and even the emotions we make room for. If we want to be more grateful, we have to stop entertaining feelings of slight or jealousy. If we want to be more patient, we have to curb the tendency toward foot tapping and anger. If we want to be less lonely, we have to be willing to go to where the love is. As Mother Teresa said, “Even God cannot fill what is full.” If we want something new to come into our lives, we have to relinquish something old. We fear change because we don’t know what’s on the other side of the chrysalis. The devil we know is preferable to the devil we don’t. Never mind that any devil is a foretaste of hell. The antidote to fear is faith. Faith doesn’t change our ignorance of the future; it is not a crystal ball. Nor does it promise a life free from obstacles. But faith gives us the ultimate assurance that God is with us all the way to death and, once there, God will open our graves and have us rise. What, then, could we possibly be afraid of? Jesus did not fear the news that his friend Lazarus was ill. Nor did he tremble when he learned that Lazarus had died and was buried four days. The grief of those he loved troubled him greatly, but he stood calmly at the mouth of the tomb and ordered the removal of the stone. With confidence in the will of God to bring life out of death, Jesus cries, “Lazarus, come out!” Do we believe that Jesus will make that same cry for every person we’ve loved and lost? Do we believe, at the hour of our death, that Jesus will cry out for us by name and beckon us into new life? This faith is what it means to be a Christian. If the death of the body is no obstacle to the love of God, then how can we fear any change to which we are summoned? The deadening habits of sin are sloping avenues that draw us further into lifelessness and lovelessness. God calls us out of these graves by name and for the purpose of embracing the wonderful new life of grace. Change—the religious word for that is conversion—is not an option! We have to continually split the skin of our narrow hearts to grow larger, softer hearts. We have to give up hearts of stone to procure hearts of flesh. If we are not willing to die, we cannot embrace the life that is promised us. Even God cannot fill what is full.

Authors Alice Camille

Special occasion Lent Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A scrutinies rcia rite of christian initiation of adults catechumens Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:1-45

Restricted

← Previous 1 2 Next →