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The breath of life

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

Occasion: Solemnity of Pentecost: At the Vigil Mass Readings: Ezekiel 37:1-14; Romans 8:22-27; John 7:37-39 An eager young man came to Socrates and said, "Teacher, I want very much to be one of your students." He replied, "Come," took the lad over to a barrel full of water, and said, "Look into the water—tell me what you see." The young man looked and said, "I see nothing but water." "Look again!" said Socrates. When he did, the old man thrust the student's face into the water and held him there. Unable to breathe, he struggled hard, but Socrates would not let him up until the last moment. Gasping and angry, the soaked young man demanded, "Why did you do this to me?" Socrates replied, "When you were underneath the water, not sure if you would live to see another day, what did you want more than anything in the world?" "I wanted to breathe." "Ah!" said Socrates. "When you want wisdom and insight as badly as you wanted to breathe, it is then you shall have it." We have grown up with images of the Holy Spirit: sometimes a tongue of fire as in the Pentecost story, more often a hovering dove. But there's another way to imagine this gift of the Risen Jesus: the word spirit itself. In Greek, the language of the New Testament, the word for spirit is identical to the word for wind and breath. Wind, breath, spirit—all the same. So the mighty wind that shook the house where the disciples were gathered can be understood as the irresistible Spirit of God that shakes and drives them out into the streets speaking in new tongues. Even deeper, it is God's own breath of life. We remember God breathing on the waters in Genesis, as if impregnating them, making them teem with life. God breathes into the mud, and Adam is. Jesus breathes on the disciples after the resurrection, and they are able to carry his message to the ends of the earth. Jesus breathes, and his body, the church, we, are born. But like Socrates' young student, we must desire God as much as we want to keep breathing and meditate on God's spirit not in ephemeral terms of "feelings" but as a matter of life and death. We come to this festival of the Spirit as the climax of our months-long focus on the Paschal Mystery, an event which, if it means anything, means dying and rising. And we remember not only Jesus' passage; we must also locate in his passage our own dyings and risings. We come to this festival of the Spirit as the climax of our months-long focus on the Paschal Mystery, an event which, if it means anything, means dying and rising. And we remember not only Jesus' passage; we must also locate in his passage our own dyings and risings. Who is there who has not died a little in the past year? We've all tasted bitter loss somehow, and it always leaves us breathless, panting, and hollow, our groans echoing through us as if we had become Shakespeare's "bare, ruined choirs." Loss intrudes upon us and changes us, requires us to let go, again, of what we treasure, of what we believed would never die, of what we believed we could not live without. And in those "little deaths," or better, in passing through them to a new kind of life, we share in the Paschal Mystery of Jesus, who enables us not merely to survive the loss, but to live again in a new way. Such moments of passage leave their mark. A veteran returns from war, and while everyone is happy, the vet is different, doesn't say much about the experience, is not the same anymore. After a long hospital stay during which things were touch-and-go, a patient comes home, but there is now a strange quality to the world. Everything is different because you know-in a new way-how fragile and holy life is. The Paschal Mystery changes you: It gives you new freedom, but it requires you to let go of the old. Remember how Mary Magdalene did not recognize the Risen One at first? It was undoubtedly Jesus, but he was also changed. Jesus says, "Mary, do not cling to me" because she wants to hold on to Jesus, whom she now recognizes as her beloved Teacher. But she has to let go of what is past and see Jesus and herself in a new way. It is the same for us. By our participating in Christ's Passover we allow to die in ourselves whatever can die and must die; we let go of whatever ties us down or keeps us dry as old bones. We trust that when we are out of breath, God breathes into us and we are not merely revived, but born again, a new creation. When you want God as badly as you want to breathe, then you shall have new life in you.

Authors Father Larry Janowski O.F.M.

holy day/feast Pentecost Vigil Mass Ezekiel 37:1-14 Romans 8:22-27 John 7:37-39
God’s water-bearers

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

Occasion: Solemnity of Pentecost: At the Vigil Mass Readings: Joel 3:1-5; Romans 8:22-27; John 7:37-39 “I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh. Your preschoolers and teenagers shall prophesy, your senators shall dream dreams, and your police officers shall see visions; even upon CEOs and flight attendants, in those days, I will pour out my spirit.” It’s fairly certain that the prophet Joel could never have imagined the kinds of work we do today or the places we do it, the almost ridiculous variety of how we define and describe ourselves: by our jobs, our grade in school, our family relationships, our neighborhoods, even our Facebook status. But I think it is safe to say that the prophet meant to be as broad as possible when he imagined the last days when God’s spirit was no longer restricted to the many dwelling places Hebrew religion had placed it: Mount Sinai, the tent of meeting in the desert, the ark of the covenant, the temple in Jerusalem, each of which had its special holy group with special access to God’s presence. In God’s dream for Israel the divine spirit knows no boundaries: There is no special people, only God’s people. There is no sacred place, for all creation is alive with the spirit of God. That is the mystery we celebrate in this Pentecost feast, when God’s Holy Spirit is set loose in a new way by the Resurrection of Christ. On Pentecost, the last days Joel imagined have begun, and we who live in the risen Christ share in the “firstfruits” of the Spirit—the beginning of a harvest that will come to fullness only when all creation is gathered up into the mystery of God. The grace given to us in Pentecost is to know that in the Baptism we have celebrated and renewed in the Easter season we are already part of heaven’s harvest. But there is more. As Jesus says, the Holy Spirit is not something outside us but something within us, at the very heart of who we are: “Rivers of living water will flow from within [the one] who believes in me.” The mystery of Pentecost is the mystery of God within us, the God who is coming into the world in and through us, who is still drawing forth a harvest. It is the God who is still creating us, as we grow more and more in the image of the risen Christ, as we begin to share now in the reign of God Jesus announced. Our redemption has already begun. We are the fulfillment of what the prophet Joel imagined so many centuries ago. Inasmuch as Christ is alive in us, God’s dream for creation has come to fulfillment. The mystery of Pentecost is the mystery of God within us, the God who is coming into the world in and through us, who is still drawing forth a harvest. Imagine a world in which all Christians lived in the knowledge that we are the vessels of God’s Holy Spirit in the world. Wherever we go—to work, to school, to games and PTA meetings, online and on the telephone—God’s Spirit walks and talks and works. Wherever we are—in the office, the classroom, the playground, the highway or subway—the risen Christ preaches and heals and makes whole. And we’re only the “firstfruits,” the early harvest of spring. The grain is not yet fully mature. Imagine a world in which everyone has discovered that in their acts of compassion and mercy and justice, God is taking a fuller step into the world. We know of course that we human beings only do this so well; there are desert places in our world as yet unwatered by God’s Spirit. Some days selfishness trumps generosity, grumpiness smolders joy, anger thwarts mercy, and the desire to judge rules out compassion. We read about such moments in the newspaper—stories of violence among young people, of greed among bankers, of abandonment of the old and the sick. But we know it, too, in our homes and workplaces—hurtful words shouted at a spouse or child or parent; cheating on a test or taking credit for a colleague’s accomplishments; the failure to share with those in need. Such are God’s labor pains and ours as we await redemption, when God’s dream will be reality in each of us. That is why, Sunday after Sunday, we gather to bless ourselves with water, to remember that in the Holy Spirit we are the living water springing up to refresh and heal humanity, to soften and strengthen all God’s creation. We remember that the Spirit isn’t stuck only in church; instead it is our privilege to be God’s water-bearers to businesses and homes and schools and playgrounds. In the Holy Spirit we are the wells from which people thirsty for kindness and love, for compassion and mercy, can draw the grace of God. And each time we allow that living water to bubble up, God takes another step into a world groaning for redemption.

Authors Bryan Cones

holy day/feast Pentecost Vigil Mass Joel 3:1-5 Romans 8:22-27 John 7:37-39
Changed in body and soul

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

Occasion: Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary: At the Vigil Mass Readings: 1 Chronicles 15:3-4, 15-16; 16:1-2; Psalm 132:6-7, 9-10, 13-14; 1 Corinthians 15:54b-57; Luke 11:27-28 The presence of God changes people. The scripture we hear proclaimed and the feast we celebrate this evening—the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary body and soul into heaven—testify to the transforming power of God. When the ark of God's presence is brought into the tent, there is rejoicing. In the psalm we rejoice over the entrance of God into God’s dwelling place—a dwelling place we, too, can enter. Because Jesus was transformed through his resurrection, so can we be transformed. Christ’s victory over sin, and therefore over death, gives us the chance to clothe our mortal selves with immortality, as Saint Paul says. Mary, too, experienced changes. Her life changed literally forever when she said yes to becoming the Mother of God, and it changed again when at the end of her earthly life she was raised body and soul to heaven. Her body, which had given life to Jesus, became clothed with immortality because of her Son’s triumph over death. Mary became a new ark of God that carried God’s transforming presence. She was in communion with God in the deepest way. Because she gave earthly life to the divine, her entire life—her whole self—was received back to God. Mary, too, experienced changes. Scripture also tells us of blessing. In the presence of God, David blesses the people. A woman blesses Mary for being the mother of Jesus. Blessing, though, as Christ says, involves much more than remaining passively in God’s dwelling place, as wonderful as that would be. When Jesus hears words of blessing addressed to Mary, he corrects the speaker: “Rather,” he says, “blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.” He had said much the same thing earlier in the Gospel of Luke: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it” (Luke 8:21). We are called to do something. We worship God, as we are doing now, and rejoice in the presence of God who blessed us with eternal life. But there are things to do. We, like Mary, must let God change us. We must open ourselves to God’s word and act on it. Do we listen to what God is telling us? Do we respond to that word by loving God with all of our hearts, with all of our souls, and with all of our minds, and by loving our neighbors as ourselves? Mary gave her whole self, body and soul, to the presence and service of God. Let us do the same.

Authors Joel Schorn

holy day/feast Assumption Vigil Mass 1 Chronicles 15:3-4, 15-16; 16:1-2 Psalm 132:6-7, 9-10, 13-14 1 Corinthians 15:54b-57 Luke 11:27-28

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All in the family

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

Occasion: Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord (Christmas): Vigil Mass Readings: Isaiah 62:1-5; Acts of the Apostles 13:16-17, 22-25; Matthew 1:1-25 WE ALL SEEK to belong, to belong to someone, to something. We are drawn to people who share our interests. We search for our identity at work, in our community, at church, while playing sports or music. We look for physical similarities among our family members. We seek friendship, love, even approval. When I was younger, I would flip through old family photo albums for hours trying to make sense of who was who and how we were related. I would pester my grandparents for information, asking them where our ancestors were born, what they did for work, and who they married. I was so curious, because their story was my history, their lives shaped mine. I belong to them. In Matthew’s Gospel, a long litany of names traces Jesus’ genealogy all the way back to David and even Abraham. Why is this important? Because hundreds of years earlier, when Abraham was willing to sacrifice his only son Isaac to the Lord, the Lord told him, “…through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me.” Forty-two generations later, Christ Our Lord was born in a stable in Bethlehem. Paul preached this same thing in Antioch, when he testified to the people gathered in the synagogue that it was from King David and the lineage of Abraham that God kept his promise and brought Israel a savior, Christ Jesus. This is not just the story of Israel and not just the story of Jesus’ ancestry. This is our story and the story of our redemption. It’s a story of hope, of second chances, of the Holy Trinity welcoming us home as prodigal sons and daughters after we fell in the Garden of Eden and Original Sin darkened our souls. God blessed us and sent his son to save us from our sins so we could receive his grace and be reunited with him. He kept his promise. This is not just the story of Israel and not just the story of Jesus’ ancestry. This is our story and the story of our redemption. This is where our true identity, our true belonging lies. We are children of God created in his image to share in the joy and beauty of his divine life. And while we can lose everything else in this world—including family, friends, health, and work—we cannot lose our identity if it is rooted in Christ. As we are created in the image and likeness of Christ, we are also called to see Christ in each other, to be Christ to each other. We are all longing to belong and Christ is longing for each of us, so let us seek out and welcome each other home to the family intended for us since the beginning of time. We are bonded as brothers and sisters, and the images of us in God’s family photo album should reflect our Christian life and love. God keeps his promises, and thousands of years ago in a small stable, Jesus bridged the gap between heaven and earth as he began his mission of redemption from the wood of the manger to the wood of the cross. It was for you, for me. God kept his promise. Truly, we are blessed.

Authors Katherine Martin

holy day/feast Christmas Vigil Mass Isaiah 62:1-5 Acts of the Apostles 13:16-17, 22-25 Matthew 1:1-25

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