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Homily stories

23 Jun 2013 - Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

When I went to pick up my 12-year-old daughter, Hannah, from her Friday night drama class, I found her waiting in the theatre with an “Well, now, who is this?” the volunteer asked my daughter as I approached and waived hello. Hannah turned, looked at me, then looked back at the volunteer, and said with a completely straight face, “I’ve never seen her before in my life.” Suddenly I realized I would have a lot of explaining to do. Identity is a funny thing. When it comes right down to it, so much of who we are depends on who others say we are: parent, sibling, loved one, friend. The essence of each of these relationships is not determined by genetics or even long-time association: It is determined by mutual agreement. We acknowledge the relationship we have with the other person and in so doing accept the responsibility the relationship carries. Jesus calls us friends. Do we identify ourselves as such? Would others see us in this light?

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

identity Belonging friendship

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Homily themes

13 May 2012 - Sixth Sunday of Easter, Cycle B

Everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. To know someone is to love them, the old saying goes, but as scripture points out in so many words, the reverse is also true: To love is know. In love God is revealed, the First Letter of John says—in fact God is revealed to be love, especially in God’s Son, who in turn loves his “friends” who believe in him. With all this love given out, however, comes a command: to love. Love reveals who knows God and who does not. What does that love look like? How can you “know”? It is a sacrificial love. “No one has greater love than this,” Jesus says, “to lay down one’s life for one’s friends”—a love, as Saint Peter learned, that also “shows no partiality.”

Authors Joel Schorn

Love Knowledge sacrifice friendship friends

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Homily stories

01 Mar 2009 - First Sunday of Lent, Cycle B

My newest hero is my neighbor across the hall: a public high-school teacher thought of as funny, sensitive, but not all that deep. Brian was on the verge of getting engaged to a beautiful woman, a social worker with a genuine concern for the people she helped. But when they began talking about marriage and children, she was clear about her expectations. He would, of course, have to pursue a different career because they could never raise a family on a teacher’s salary. “How ‘bout law school?” she threw out as a possibility. Brian was taken aback, but he too was very clear: He wanted to be a high school teacher. It was his dream job, his “vocation,” to use his words. He watched his dad die early in a high-powered job that kept his family at a distance, and he didn’t want that for his kids. He also wanted to be there to help other kids. Wow, who knew? We all read him wrong, including his girlfriend. Since she couldn’t get past the money, the relationship ended. But for me, it was the beginning of an even more beautiful friendship. Here was a friend who could teach me about resisting temptation and staying on course—just like Jesus.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

teacher engage expectations Vocation friendship Temptation

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Exploring the word

05 Apr 2020 - Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord, Cycle A

It has become a nearly dogmatic element of contemporary religious education to assert that Jesus is our friend. We teach this to children, herald it in devotional meditations, sing it in hymns, and hear it wafting down from pulpits far and wide. Of course, it’s not just the bumper stickers that make the claim; no less a resource than the Gospel of John implies that Jesus “lay down his life for his friends.” I’m not in a position to argue that Jesus is not our friend, but I would question the reverse assumption: that we are friends of Jesus or that we even understand the implications of being a friend to Jesus. Consider the historical friends of Jesus whose hearts are laid bare for us in the story of the Passion. One of them turns out to be his betrayer. Another denies multiple times that Jesus has ever made his acquaintance. The rest of his friends are so shaken in their faith that they make themselves scarce at the first sign of trouble. The companions of Jesus are in fact so unreliable that when it comes time for him to carry his cross to his execution, a stranger and foreigner named Simon has to be drafted to shoulder the burden. As Matthew tells the story, Jesus is so bereft of support at his final hour that the last words on his lips are, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” As the revolutionaries abuse him and passersby taunt him, only the women of Galilee stand at a distance and keep vigil with Jesus in his suffering. Numbered among the friends If we claim to be friends of Jesus, then we have to consider seriously how the historical friends of Jesus behaved. They were not a trustworthy bunch, not perceptive or loyal or useful much of the time. They followed him out of amazement, perhaps, or with hopes of bettering themselves should the tide of fortune rise with him. Maybe in time they followed Jesus simply out of habit or because the alternative—returning to a life of mundane fishing with no promise of glory at the end—seemed even drearier than the irregular reception offered to itinerant preachers. If they had any convictions about Jesus or his message mixed into their motivations, these were not solid enough to withstand the threat of personal harm. Clearly, the friends of Jesus were not an admirable bunch. Do we still want to identify ourselves among their number? Regrettably, it would seem, the name is all too appropriate. Most of us are archetypical friends of Jesus: the denying, betraying, cowardly kind. No matter how pure our motivations and convictions about following him, they are dramatically shaken whenever harsh realities impose themselves. We doubt Jesus the moment things go wrong for us: Shouldn’t this friendship shield us in some way from the dark side of life? Doesn’t our alliance with Jesus guarantee a certain tranquility and stability in our fortunes? Don’t we “get” peace in our hearts, protection for our families, a blessing on our country, immunity from disease, anguish, and the power of evil? If it wasn’t true for the group that traveled with Jesus the first time, I’m not sure why we imagine it will be different for us. Models of friendship If we are looking for a clearer understanding of what it means to be a true friend to Jesus, we need look no further than the first two readings. Isaiah tells us about the faithful servant of God who speaks the divine word fearlessly despite rejection and persecution. Beatings and humiliations and disgrace may result, but the true ally of God does not turn a back on the truth. Those who spent three years as the companions of Jesus seemed to be unfamiliar with this prophecy—or perhaps unconvinced by it. They liked the teaching and preaching and display of miracles, but they were unwilling to consider the cost of proclaiming this gospel. The second model of friendship with Jesus is Saint Paul, who knows the cost of the gospel in his own flesh. In the Philippians hymn, he describes the glory and infamy awaiting the Christ. One who bears the form of God takes on the form of a slave. One who contains the fullness of God is persuaded to empty himself to the point of death. The Pauline parabola is traced: What goes down must come up in the paradox of the Kingdom. The one willing to go down in humility is raised up in exaltation. It was this understanding that permitted Paul to go down, again and again, until his final martyrdom. He knew that the only way up is down. The final example of friendship is, of course, the women of Galilee, traditionally among the “uncounted” of every crowd in ancient cultures. They stood in the anonymity of the costume of their gender, unnoticed and irrelevant to most of the men on the scene. Silent witnesses to a great atrocity, by their presence and observation they made the return to the tomb on Easter morning possible. Applying the word Called to friendship When Judas kisses Jesus in the fateful garden, Matthew alone tells us that Jesus responds with an intimate address: “Friend, do what you have come for.” (The other gospels do not use the word friend, and John omits the kiss altogether.) Matthew offers us a rare glimpse of the intimacy with which Jesus holds the sinner even in the moment of love’s betrayal. This bond is not shaken even when we are most false, and we can consider it an invitation to be a real friend to Jesus, as he is to us. In the same way, we can offer our friendship to others even when they do not meet our expectations or live up to our hopes for loyalty, bravery, and integrity. The only way to accept such impossible terms for friendship, of course, is the way Jesus outlined with his words and his life. We have to forgive those who trespass against us, just as Jesus forgives us. Related scripture links Jesus calls us friends: John 15:13-15 Women uncounted: Mark 6:44; Matt. 14:21; Luke 9:14; John 6:10 Other betrayal scenes in the gospels: Mark 14:43-52; Luke 22:47-53; John 18:1-14

Authors Alice Camille

friendship friends of jesus

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