On True Freedom

Solemnity of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist
24 June 2012
St. Anthony, DSM

Today we celebrate the birthday of Saint John the Baptist. This day is picked symbolically to be six months before the birthday of Christ – since Elizabeth was in her sixth month. It is also shortly after the summer solstice – the first day of summer, when the sun reaches its furthest course north, and they days are at their longest. The sun now begins to diminish, looking towards the first day of winter, when we will be in high gear to welcome Christ. This diminishing of created light is analogous to what Saint John the Baptist said towards the end of his life, “[Christ] must increase; I must decrease.”

Let’s look at how the Baptist’s life ended. He knew his entire mission was to point the way to Christ – the true light coming into the world. John was a brilliantly shining lamp, but he knew that everything he received came from Christ, light and truth himself. So, when he fearlessly told King Herod moral truth - that it was not right that he should take his brother’s wife as his own – the King had John arrested, and eventually killed for his faith.

John died for Christ. John died for moral truth. John died for his faith. And, not even the coercive power of a king was able to change his heart to deny the truth.

Last Thursday began the Fortnight for Freedom – a two week campaign, lasting until the 4th of July, sponsored by the US Bishops to promote religious liberty. This campaign isn’t about political candidates or parties, but about the moral issues which have come front row and center before the Church’s conscience – most especially religious liberty. During these two weeks, the Church has us remember the many saints whose feasts are celebrated, who died for their faith at the hands of corrupt government – who died for religious freedom.

Last Friday we remembered St. John Fisher and St. Thomas More, two saints very near and dear to my heart. Both disapproved of King Henry VIII’s divorce and subsequent marriage, which had been done for political purposes and was condemned by the Pope. Both died for their faith in the Church and her teaching on marriage and family. Both died for their belief in the Church Christ founded, and not the one Henry created. Both died for their religious freedom. St. John Fisher, the only bishop with the courage to stand up to Henry, while many others simply tried to get along – until they even named the King the supreme head of the Church – a title reserved for Christ.

And, St. Thomas More, a lawyer; a high-ranking member of the King’s cabinet. Who, rather than affix his name to save his career, resigned his position as Chancellor of England. And yet, even leaving public life, the government of the King was still not pleased to leave him be. Eventually, Thomas’s family went into exile, and he was locked in the tower of London. Finally, false witnesses were brought in, and Thomas was executed – for his belief in marriage – for his faith – for religious freedom.

Pope John Paul II said to the UN in 1995: “The fundamental right to freedom of religion and freedom of conscience are the cornerstones of the structure of human rights and the foundation of every truly free society.” Here in America, we are – or maybe were – the brilliantly shining light of these rights. The first amendment – the first sentence of the first amendment of the bill of rights – says: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” It’s no accident that this was the first freedom guaranteed to every citizen of this country, for many came here fleeing religious persecution. This is why so many continued to come to this country – the Irish against the British, the Italians against Mussolini, the Vietnamese against Communism, etc. etc. – all for the hope of religious freedom.

In this context, our ancestors, fervent in their faith like St. John the Baptist, St. John Fisher, St. Thomas More, could live their faith freely. They could establish parishes, churches, schools, free public associations like the Knights of Columbus and the Altar & Rosary guilds, have processions like Corpus Christi; hospitals, orphanages, soup kitchens, and the like which serve “the least of these” at the very command of Christ – all these things which identify us as Catholic and are expressions of who we are. And today, all these institutions are in danger, as the government built on freedom seeks to dictate to us what our conscience should be, and suffocate the voice of the Gospel of Christ. I dare say, unlike St. John the Baptist, it is our government that has chosen to increase, and mandate that Christ decrease.

My dear brothers and sisters, these are not political arguments. Herod wasn’t a Democrat, nor was Henry a Republican. But, for all their worldly power, both were slaves to their times and their passions. And yet it was John the Baptist, John Fisher, and Thomas More who, though they were imprisoned and executed, were truly free to live – live for Christ in this world and in the eternal life to come.

And so, I don’t care if you’re Republican, Democrat, Socialist, Green, or Independent. We are Catholic, and we are called to religious freedom. And I don’t care if a reporter starts badmouthing me, or if some write-up slandering me finds its way into Cityview. I live for Christ, who loved me and gave himself up for me. And, we all have the obligation now to stand up for our faith and the freedom of Mother Church, lest she be suppressed in our midst.

For Freedom, Christ has set us Free!

Entitlement - and how to get kicked out of Heaven!

Twenty-Eighth Sunday of the Year (A)
9 October 2011
St. Anthony, DSM

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/100911.cfm


Friday night, I was at the hayrack ride which we had advertized the last couple weekends here in the parish. We had a good time on the horses, and when the time came to cook the food over the campfire, I found a stick and made my hot dog. Afterwards, I heard a girl asking indiscriminately if anyone had a stick for her to make a hot dog. I said, “I have a stick.” So, she came over. First, she looked at the long stick and asked the profound question - “Is that a stick?” To which I answered, “Does it look like a stick?” At this point, she grabbed it with both hands and said “My stick”. I didn’t let go (nor did I let her break the stick), and said “Wait a minute – you think this is your stick? Right now it’s my stick.” So, I told her I would let her use my stick if she agreed to bring it back when she was done. As soon as I let go, she ran off, saying “I’ve got my stick!” without so much as saying “Thank you.”

In today’s world, I’m afraid far too many of us act like this five year old girl. Those of us who grew up in this society have known comfort, luxury, and entitlement. We begin to think and act like we’re entitled to things that aren’t really ours; that people should give us whatever we want when we want it.

We see this all the time in the culture. People who think they are entitled to a job – and show up to an interview with the attitude that “you must hire me.” Or those who sue because “you didn’t hire me, that means you’re unfair.” There are people who think they’re entitled to government support without having paid their fair share. In marriages, far too often the husband and wife think they are entitled to something from their spouse – the paycheck, the car, their time – and marriages can crash and burn very quickly with this attitude.

And, of course, this attitude of entitlement finds it way into our spiritual lives. People approach prayer like God must give them something – saying “I’m so wonderful and God, you should do this for me because I think so highly of myself.” There are some people who approach the Church and her priests, thinking that we must give them whatever they want because we’re here to serve them. People think the rules don’t apply to them, and so they try to get around the rules, which are really there to help people get to heaven.

In this entitlement culture, each individual person thinks the entire world exists for them. But, it isn’t true! The parish rules we have for First communion, confirmation, RCIA, and PRE of attending Mass are not to make you suffer through listening to my poor preaching. It’s to bring you closer to Christ present in this Eucharistic sacrifice – in this Eucharistic community. We priests don’t exist to serve you; we exist to serve him – and that involves serving you.

In the Gospel today, we have the story of the great wedding feast. When none of those invited came to the feast that the King himself had prepared for his Son, servants were sent to call anyone who would come to the feast. Apparently, there was a man who thought he was entitled to this feast. Perhaps he thought, “Oh, it’s last minute – he won’t mind me if I don’t wear my wedding clothes.” Or, maybe he thought, “Clearly, he needs me at this party, since otherwise nobody would be there.” And, he isn’t dressed to meet the King and his Son. When the king sees him, this man quickly discovers that this party isn’t about him – and what he wears for the king matters. And, out he goes!

Today, we’ve become “entitled”. We’ve culturally lost the basic sense of gift, of grace, of something being freely given to us that demands our love and appreciation in return. That’s why so many marriages fail today. That’s why people clamber for everything they want today. That’s why so many people are spiritually empty today – they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be loved for who they are.

I’m sure some of you are familiar with the line “I’m ok. You’re ok.” I’m sure many of you were taught that the sum of all theology is “Jesus loves you just the way you are.” While that statement may have some truth, it’s lacking. Jesus – God – loves you for what he created you to be. He loved you into existence itself, and he has in his mind an image of what you can become with his grace. And, he loves you every step in between. But, he’s calling us, asking for our love in return. And still, he gives us the freedom to turn away.

When the new translation of the Mass begins on November 27, the words of consecration will have a couple minor changes. One of them will be, at the consecration of the chalice, the priest will say “will be shed for you and for many” instead of “for all.” It’s the same message as the Gospel – God wants all of us to be saved, but some of us turn away because of the hardness of our hearts.

None of us are “ok”, but we’re all loved and called to be more perfectly prepared for the wedding feast of heaven. Here at St. Anthony, I’ve already personally seen numerous times people’s manipulation, lying, and defaming other’s character – all because they think they’re entitled. If we continue this way, we might find ourselves telling God Almighty that we deserve to be in heaven, and we’ll soon be joining the man outside, not dressed for the occasion. Now, while in this life, let us turn our hearts away from ourselves, to love of God and his Church, and gratitude for the gifts we have received.

The Meaning of 9/11

Twenty-fourth Sunday of the Year (A)
11 September 2011
St. Anthony, DSM

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/091111.cfm

Today, on September 11, two-thousand eleven, we remember those fateful events of ten years ago, 9/11, two-thousand one. As we remember the attack on our nation, as we see the photos, the videos, as we hear the stories, our hearts within us are moved because all these memories carry so much meaning?

Ten years later, what does 9/11 mean for us? We are a nation that has wandered far from God, far from faith, far from a good moral foundation – so much so that we are losing the ability to defend even the most basic and fundamental principles of society – Marriage, family, generosity, charity, and faith. 9/11 served as a wake-up call for many people. This hole they had deep in their hearts was exposed because we, who had been living secure in our pride, in our selfishness, turned in upon ourselves, suddenly did not find in our hearts what we really needed.

How many of us remember the impromptu Masses and prayer services had that Tuesday night, the next Wednesday, the packed churches that weekend? That month? The memorial services for all those who lost their lives? How many of us remember that feeling rise up in our hearts that something more important than our pithy wants and desires was at stake – the poor souls who died that day, the people who lost a loved one, the very community that is our nation? How many of us remember that desire to stand up united, as the United States of America, and do something for our country? How many signed up for the armed forces in those days; how many served people in need, and sacrificed of themselves for the good of another?

A priest, who was pastor of the nearest parish to the World Trade Center, was asked by a priest-friend of his, “What do you remember most about 9/11?” His answer – “Women’s shoes.” Now, for the women out there, you need to know a little secret. Men don’t notice shoes; in fact, we’re vaguely aware that we have feet, and I currently have no idea which shoes I’m wearing. I assume they’re black, since that’s sort of the color I wear. So, when the priest-friend heard him answer “Women’s shoes”, he knew he was in for a story.

The parish was along a steep incline going away from the world trade center. It was a route that many people evacuating the scene had taken. And, it was right about at the front doors of the parish where many women had decided to get rid of their shoes. Now men, you need to know a secret – many women wear shoes to be stylish, to look nice, to go with their outfits, shoes that are oftentimes rather uncomfortable. This is why the women in your life likely own 50 pairs of shoes or more. So, as they were climbing this hill, they could no longer put up with the pain, and they sacrificed their shoes. Beautiful, impressive, dress shoes. Some middle of the line, some very expensive. As they were fleeing for their lives, as they passed the church, the women were no longer attached to their shoes. Something more important, something bigger had happened.

What does 9/11 mean for you? For me personally, 9/11 was part of God’s plan to bring me closer to him – to the vocation of priesthood he has given me. I remember the story of Father Mychal Judge, a Franciscan priest who was chaplain of the New York fire department. When everyone was fleeing for their lives, he and the fire department ran in to save lives – the fire department to save them for this world, Fr. Mychal for eternal life. He anointed the sick, prayed over the dead, absolved those who were falling from the upper floors. Not caught up with himself but entirely with his sacred duties, he gave his live into Christ’s hands when the south tower collapsed and flying debris killed the priest. As the first rescued by his fellow firemen, he had the honor of being the first official casualty of 9/11.

There are some people today who would claim that we live in a post-Christian nation – not the least of which being our very own president. There are many who would try and tell us that 9/11 wasn’t religious, and that we need to be understanding of a religion that allows for an interpretation that says mass murder is ok. These same people accuse Christians of bigotry and injustice when we defend our beliefs and morals, and say our intolerance is the source of all society’s problems.

Faced with this, we can be tempted to think that we need to be ashamed, abashed, apologetic for being who we are; that we need to dissociate ourselves from the very faith that has made us the people we are. So, we have such ridiculous scenarios as the New York mayor remembering 9/11 without inviting any symbol of American self-sacrifice: no clergy, no firefighters, no victims’ families – and certainly not Fr. Mychal Judge!

My dear brothers and sisters, we are not called to be ashamed of who we are, but to be more perfectly Catholic Christians, following the command of Christ himself, who calls us to forgive. Forgiveness isn’t saying we’re sorry as if everything is our fault, but it’s being able to call out sin definitively and say to the hijackers “What you did was evil, wrong and sinful. You willingly took thousands of lives, forfeited your own for your own private cause, and without care for the people you would make suffer.” And to say at the same time, “I choose to love you anyway, because Christ would do so himself. I forgive you.” Yes, even of this fault!

How difficult this command of Christ truly is – we must forgive if we ourselves expect to be forgiven. We must know the truth, be aware of sin, call it out when we see it, and still forgive. How much harder and more meaningful this is than society’s pathetic mandering “they’re just misunderstood.”

For me, 9/11 means strength, truth, heroic virtue, and Christian triumph through forgiveness. What does 9/11 mean for you?

Let us go to the Mountain and Pray

Ninteenth Sunday of the Year (A)
7 August 2011
St. Anthony, Des Moines


In the Gospel today we hear about how our Lord Jesus Christ, the exemplar and pioneer of our faith, showed us by his example the importance of prayer.

I know we often talk about prayer – or at least we used to. Prayer today seems to be disappearing from the public forum – at times violently being targeted, as if somehow our faith isn’t considered a constitutive part of who we are; or as if the first amendment of the Constitution, stating “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances” could somehow be contorted as a ban on prayer and our public witness as faithful Catholics.

I fear that today, many of us have forgotten how important it is to pray. I think many of us think that the demand of our faith to pray is somehow a hinderance on our freedom and the precious moments of time we have as our lives have become unduly busy. We think, “Oh, I’m so busy with work, with my family, with taking the kids to all their sporting events, etc. etc. How can I find time to sit down and pray?”

I think the first thing we need to realize is what prayer is. When Jesus went up the mountain, he didn’t take with him a bible or a rosary or fifteen devotional booklets to read and do what was in them. Not that these things aren’t good and helpful, but prayer isn’t about getting a list of tasks done, like going through a shopping list making sure everything was filled out.

Prayer is a personal encounter with God; personal, because our God is a person – a communion of three persons, in fact. When we pray, it isn’t about moving beads across fingers, but about the time spent in conversation with one who loves us – with one whom we must love. Think about time spent with a close loved one – a spouse, a family member, a good friend. I think about friends of mine – close friends, especially those who live far away from me. We make an intentional effort to call each other on the phone and just talk – spending time together and just enjoying one another. This is true, authentic love.

This is what we are called to do with God. To intentionally set aside time for him – time to converse with him. Time to simply be with him. Time to love him. When we set aside time for friends, does this seem like a burden? And yet, why do we think this way when it comes to our friendship with God?

That’s right, we are called to a deep, loving friendship with God. Prayer isn’t about accomplishing a task, but, as St. Therese of Lisieux said, “For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.” Prayer doesn’t magically take away all sorrow and sadness in our lives, but gives us the opportunity to converse with God, who knows us better than we know ourselves, and who remains faithful even in the trials of life. Saint Teresa of Avila, who we call the Doctor of Prayer, once famously remarked to God, “If this is how you treat your friends, it’s no wonder you have so few of them!” Only a friend – a good, true friend – could speak like that.

So, how do we pray? There are all sorts of ways: Eucharistic adoration, the rosary, scripture reading, devotionas, etc. Last week, I mentioned in my homily St. Ignatius of Loyola, whose memorial it was, and I alluded to his method of prayer. Today, as I conclude this homily, I’d like to take you through a very short prayer, highly encouraged by St. Ignatius to be done at the end of every day.

<Introduction to Examen prayer>

The Hunger in our Hearts

Eighteenth Sunday of the Year (A)
31 July 2011
St. Anthony, Des Moines



What are you hungry for? We live today in a world which is filled with so many things that we often ask questions like this – what do you want? Where do you want to eat? It’s a question some people don’t get to ask because they don’t have much resources or much food.

Most of us remember Blessed Theresa of Calcutta – Mother Theresa – and her work on the streets with the dying poor. She took to heart the words Christ spoke on the cross, when he said “I thirst”. She remembered that anyone who gives but a cup of water to someone in need for the sake of Christ would know his reward.

Yet, Blessed Theresa knew that, on the cross, it wasn’t water that Christ was calling for. Certainly he was thirsty from his agony and his passion, but he wanted something more than water. He was thirsty for something that would truly satisfy. He was thirsty for our love.

Today, we come before this altar as hungry people, like the crowd that followed Jesus. What are we hungry for? Many of us have lived at times aware of a hunger deep within us. This hunger can make us feel alone, unsatisfied, worthless, unloved. How many of us have tried to fill this hunger, this hole in our hearts, with things that don’t really satisfy.

Certainly, we’ve all known someone who has tried anything and everything to fill this hunger. There are people who think fulfilling every fleeting desire – instant gratification – will fill the hunger inside. How many of us know someone like this? I’m sure many of us have watched a relative or friend aching with this hunger, sliding towards some dangerous things, and wanted to say, “My friend, what are you doing? Why are you drinking so much? Why are you using drugs? Why are you partying all night, and falling into every sort of sin? Don’t you see that this isn’t making you happy? Sure, it might give you some pleasure for a time, but then the hunger comes back worse than before, and you become trapped and addicted. Why spend your money for what is not bread; your wages for what fails to satisfy? Heed me, and you shall eat well, you shall delight in rich fare. Come to me heedfully, listen, that you may have life. Look for something that truly satisfies; something that makes you more fully who you were created to be.”

Some of the older – uhh, more experienced folks – will understand this question: Who made us? God made us! See how easy this is. Why did God make us? To know, love, and serve him in this world and to be happy with him forever in the next. This hunger inside us isn’t meant for the things of this world, but only for God, who alone can fulfill our hunger.

Let me tell you the story of St. Ignatius of Loyola, whose memorial is ordinarily celebrated today. St. Ignatius was born into nobility and became a soldier. He was what our society would call a man’s man. He was strong and brave. After fighting in a number of battles, a cannonball broke one of his legs. He was laid up in surgery for weeks, having had very painful surgery on his leg before anisthetics were available.

Ignaitus was what most action movies depict the hero to be. So, while he was recuperating from his surgery, he requested books about knights and their valiantry so that he could read them for his pleasure. However, the hospital only had the bible and some books on the life of Christ and various saints. Since it was either that or nothing, he read. What surprised him was how strong and awesome Christ and the saints were, how brave and heroic in all sorts of ways unknown to him before. After reading, he wanted to be like St. Francis and St. Dominic.

As time passed, he noticed a key difference about these stories of the saints from those of the knights. When he read the stories of knights, he would be pleased for a time and then felt empty again. When he read about the saints, his heart remained full. He reflected and prayed about this, and discovered that this was God filling that hunger in his heart.

St. Ignaius of Loyola discovered the food that truly satisfies. He learned how to discern – to see how nothing else fulfilled the hunger deep in his heart than that desire to be like the saints, united to Christ. He was so filled with the fire of God’s love that he started the Jesuit order. His method of prayer, inspired by his time in the hospital, is still taught and used by thousands of priests and religious today.

My dear friends, do not be afraid of being hungry. Enter into that hunger, know it well, and you will discover that you are hungry for Christ. Come, then, to this altar, and eat the bread that satisfies and drink that which truly fills our hearts. Drink of the torrent fo God’s love, until you can’t drink any more. Then, come back for more. Keep coming to this altar, and give him the love in your heart to drink. Then, nothing will be able to separate you from the love of God, in Christ Jesus our Lord.

The Goodness of God

16th Sunday of the Year (A)
17 July 2011
St. Anthony, DSM
http://www.usccb.org/nab/071711.shtml

How good is God? Today’s readings impel us to ask the question of God’s own goodness. Oftentimes, we think of God as being distant, as not caring about us. Other times, we think God is judging us and punishing us, as if this is what God does, as if this were his plan for us.

However, this is not who God is. He isn’t watching us under a microscope, judging us, waiting for us to fail, and punishing us because of some sinister delight he might have. Rather, God is gentle with us. He created us and has given us his Holy Spirit, so that like yeast in dough, he allows us to grow into that which he created us to be. Even when sin enters our hearts, entangles itself in our souls, and we go ahead and live with it rather than coming to confession and rooting it out of our lives, God remains gentle. As the parable from the Gospel states, he allows the weeds to grow with the crop for fear of damaging the crop. In fact, God is so good that he is able to yield a harvest even from weeds – he is able to bring good out of evil.

How good is God? His might is the source of Justice. His mastery – Lordship – over all things makes him lenient to all. Parents understand this. Children make mistakes, mess up, disappoint. And yet, good parents love their children. They are not disappointed in their children. They aren’t out to make their children mess up, and they don’t delight in punishing them. And yet, parents still discipline them and correct so that their children can grow into something good and wholesome, and not be entangled in the weeds of this world.

Why is it so hard for us to see how good God is to us? I think we need to ask what kind of people we are. There are many of us who treat others according to the negative God-as-punisher way. We see this all the time in the media today – how quick we are to condemn someone without knowing all the facts (for only God can look into a person’s heart!) We look and wait, expecting people to make mistakes, and we pounce on them to make ourselves feel better for a brief moment of time. We don’t trust others, and we certainly don’t forgive. Cardinal George in Chicago has described our culture as one in which “everything is permitted and nothing forgiven.”

If we are called to be like God, if we are united with him in our baptism, given his spirit in Confirmation, and come to his altar every week to receive the Body and Blood of his Son, transforming us more and more into his own divine image – then we certainly must start acting more like him. He is loving, compassionate, forgiving – all while being entirely just and true. He doesn’t ignore the weeds and bundle them with the crop. He still sifts them out and burns them away. But, he doesn’t punish what is good in people – he never looses sight of the good crop which was sown.

My dear brothers and sisters, this is our ground for hope. Almighty God judges us with clemency, and so we have confidence in the forgiveness of our sins, most especially in the Sacrament of Penance. Let us then live in this hope, let us be truly contrite for our sins, thankful for God’s mercy and love, and trusting in his salvation. And let us love one another, as Christ himself has taught us.

Longing... Hoping... Sowing...

15th Sunday of the Year (A)
10 July 2011
St. Anthony, DSM

http://www.usccb.org/nab/071011.shtml

A number of years ago, I was helping with a Youth2000 or Iowa2000 retreat we had here in Des Moines. Father David Santoro preached a beautiful homily on the Eucharist and how special of a gift it is. By some act of Divine Providence, before Mass there was a mix up in the sacristy and only half as many hosts as were necessary were set out for Consecration. As the priests distributing communion were soon to discover, there were not enough hosts. They started fractioning the hosts, first in halves, then in quarters. Eventually, there were about 50 people waiting in the one communion line left with Father Santoro, and he had no hosts. Fortunately, the MC for the Mass knew of another tabernacle nearby and had gone out when he saw what was happening to retrieve everything from there, which proved to be just enough for what they needed.

As these last people in the communion line were waiting, standing there in front of the priest who had nothing more to give, the meaning of his homily came to take on an immediate meaning. How great of a gift the Eucharist is, and we sometimes take it for granted. All of a sudden, they thought this gift might not be there for them. They were longing to receive, and everyone around them was hoping they could receive this gift and become one with them in this sacrament, and the priest was holding in his hands an empty ciborium, wanting to give them what he at the moment didn’t have to give.

We live today in a world that tries to fulfill every desire immediately. Any sense of longing is often considered a sign that something isn’t right and needs to be corrected – and certainly the last story could be seen that way. However, longing, waiting, anticipating is a natural part of the human condition. It prepares us to receive with joy and gratitude. We long and wait for all sorts of things with great anticipation – entry into baseball and football games, a nice dinner in a restaurant, a friend coming to visit.

We anticipate and hope for things which are important to us. Consider our priorities. We are a people who will wait hours and hours in line – sometimes all night – for concert tickets, the latest technology coming on sale, or for rides at Disneyworld. Yet, we are the same people who are terribly impatient with one another, with ourselves when we mess up, and with God when we don’t immediately get what we want. Do we not place our own interest above those of others? Do we cut in line, run around other cars on the roadways, sometimes do something we know will annoy someone around us? Do we use our friends, family, and those most dear to us simply because they serve our wants, desires, or pleasure? Do they simply make us feel good? When they stop, do we just drop them? Or, do we really love one another – for their own good, simply because they are good in themselves, and loved by God.

The Gospel today reminds us of what our priorities should be. First, of course, we must be the good soil, receptive to the Gospel of Christ. There are too many people today who are obstinate that God could easily say, “Gross is the heart of this people,/ they will hardly hear with their ears,/ they have closed their eyes,/ lest they see with their eyes/ and hear with their ears/ and understand with their hearts/ and be converted.”

But, simply sitting by and listening to the Gospel is not enough. God doesn’t compare the faithful to books in a library, but seeds in the soil. By nature, we who have received the Gospel have been called to be fruitful and multiply, and to bear as much fruit as we can – 30, 60, or 100 fold! And, our priorities are so backwards that sometimes we come here for just our individual salvation, or maybe for our immediate family who we bring with us, but we aren’t spreading the seed of the Gospel wherever we go. The sower is generous, and sews seed everywhere, hoping for growth, and hoping that it will bear more seed and bring more life and hope to the world.

Dear brothers and sisters, blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear. Amen, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it. We have seen and heard, and now we too are called to be sowers, for we know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now, longing for, awaiting our witness to and sharing of the Gospel to bring light and joy to this world which seems to continue to get darker and darker at times as it falls further into sin. The world is hungry, even though many have forgotten their hunger. They try to hide it and fill the hunger of their souls with all sorts of things that don’t really fill. Instead, other things fail to satisfy, and people try more things and different things to satisfy. They continue to dig themselves into a hole, and they become enslaved to these things which were supposed to make them happy.

Rather, the world is hungry for this bread and thirsty for this drink, which once again is about to be received in our bodies. We must begin the transformation within our own hearts to be good soil. Then, we must bear the fruits of our life in Christ, enlivened by the Holy Spirit. We must love enough to boldly go out and bear witness to the truth of our faith. We must love others enough to show them their sin and call them to conversion. We must love God enough to be fruitful – spiritually and physically – so that the mission may continue; so that the longing and hope of all creation may be fulfilled. We must love ourselves enough, so that our deepest longings – freedom from sin, union with God, and life eternal – might be fulfilled. As for now, we await in hope. We anticipate this fulfillment, and we have a foretaste of it every time we come back to this altar.