The hard truths about suffering (Sunday homily)

Hearing today’s Gospel can raise an uncomfortable question: 

If Jesus was willing to raise Lazarus and others in the Gospels,

why doesn’t he do the same for us?

Someone we love gets sick, and not only does our loved one 

go through so many trials, so does everyone around them. 

I could paint a picture, but most of us already know how awful this is.

And for those who haven’t yet stood where Martha and Mary stood,

your turn is coming. That moment arrives for every one of us.

So, you and I can easily say with Martha: “Lord, if you had been here…”

The hard truth is, you and I are not promised 

to be saved FROM suffering. 

If only, if only! But that’s not the deal. 

As Holy Week and Good Friday draw near, 

instead of avoiding this topic, let’s face it squarely. 

The Cross puts suffering right in the center.

Indeed, let me say that differently. 

Suffering was already at the center of human experience. 

What Christ does is put God and his salvation right there, 

in the middle of human pain. 

Jesus puts himself there, on the Cross!

This calls to mind one of the great temptations today,

that it is “compassionate” to hasten death

where suffering is too great.

We see it in Europe, in Canada, and in our country, too,

with expanding efforts to make it legal

to give people a drug to end their lives.

What began as supposedly only 

for people facing terminal illness is now, in many places, 

moving well beyond that — being advocated

for people who have disabilities, and even in some cases, for minors.

You and I are in no way dismissive of any suffering. 

But are we really prepared to say that human life 

is made worthless by trials and pain? 

To state clearly what we believe as Catholics:

It is right to relieve suffering through medication and comfort.

It is entirely appropriate to accept death when it comes; 

but it is gravely sinful to hurry it along.

Consider another example: what happened during Covid.

Our leaders and experts tried to remove all risk and worry.

We isolated ourselves from one another. 

Many of our elderly were cut off from all personal contact 

with friends and loved ones. And what happened? 

We were trying to keep them “safe.” Yet it was damaging! 

People – not just the elderly, but at all ages – 

were depressed, disoriented, overcome with sadness. 

Here again, we learn: 

life isn’t better when all danger and suffering are kept at bay. 

It seems to be inescapable that the trials you and I experience—

as with Martha, Mary and Lazarus—aren’t something to be saved from;

because—through Christ—they end up saving us!

We are not promised to be saved from suffering. 

We are right to try to soften its blows.

Yet we also know our path to fullness of life is bound up with it.

The Cross shows that God is not an observer of our pain.

He makes it his own and redeems it.

And maybe that’s one reason Jesus didn’t come and rescue Lazarus, 

and why he doesn’t simply spare us from the same path.

He isn’t just saving you and me for more of this life – 

but for eternal life.

At this Mass, friends and family members are joining us

who will, in two weeks, be baptized, confirmed 

and receive their first Holy Communion at the Easter Vigil.

Right after this homily, we’ll pray in a special way to strengthen them.

Today’s Gospel makes clear: they are answering Jesus’ summons to life.

And, they are choosing his Cross as the path to Resurrection.

As we all approach Holy Week, now is a great time to ask ourselves: 

do I really want to cling to this life, 

which will slip away no matter what, or:

Will I walk with Jesus the road of dying to self, 

dying to this world, that I may share in his Resurrection? 

Who is blind? Who sees? (Sunday homily)

 Of all the people in the Gospel who couldn’t see…

The one man who was healed:

did you notice, he was only one who,

without question or delay,

simply went and did as the Lord said?

Everyone else tried to analyze, argue or deny.

That’s not to say we can’t ask questions.

If you or I saw someone who was blind, now able to see,

we’d have questions as well.

Yet, there comes a point when we know:

no more delays—just go!

When I was 19, I left the Catholic Church

and joined another church. I came back 10 years later.

Over that time, I had questions,

I debated and wrestled—and that was right.

But there came a moment, and I remember it vividly.

It was during Lent: as I drove home from work one day,

past a Catholic church, I heard the question in my head:

“What holds you back?” And I knew: “Nothing, Lord.”

A day or two later,

I went to confession for the first time in 10 years.

So, how about you? Are you holding back

on something you know the Lord wants you to do?

For a lot of us, that’s what happens

with the sacrament of penance.

It’s no great mystery why that happens.

Not many of us want to admit our sins,

especially to another human being.

Maybe we get discouraged,

Or we rationalize, “I’m doing pretty good.”

You know what? I go through the same thing.

Again, the blind man could have had all the same feelings.

Did you notice, he didn’t ask to be healed?

Maybe he’d gotten used to being blind or had given up hope.

He could have asked, “why this business with the clay?

Can’t you heal me without that?”

Instead, he simply went and did what the Lord asked.

He, and he alone, was healed.

At this Mass, we are joined by friends and family members

who are preparing to receive the sacraments of baptism, confirmation 

and the Most Holy Eucharist in three weeks at the Easter Vigil.

Of course, for you, the sacrament of reconciliation will follow those 

during the course of your life, about to begin, as Catholics.

Even so, you are called, like everyone in the Gospel,

and everyone here, to wake up to the question: 

Can I see? Can I really see?

And if we are truly honest, we know the answer is,

No, not unless Jesus touches our eyes and our hearts.

Your presence here reminds us of how Jesus awakens so many of us 

to urgent action, as you hurry to the font of baptism.

So, for the rest of us, as far as the sacrament of penance, just go!

There are a lot of opportunities for confession this week, 

and every week through to the Easter Vigil.

Just look in the bulletin – it’s all there!

The other priests and I are eager to provide you 

the spiritual healing that comes in the sacrament of penance.

The blind man in the Gospel,

after the Lord put clay over his eyes,

and sent him to the pool:

what might he have been thinking?

I don’t know, but: if he felt certain he would be healed,

then we can be sure his heart swelled with hope.

He didn’t walk, he ran to that pool!

Well then, the same for us:

Even as we pray, and confront our sins,

and ask God to help us change,

You and I really can be completely sure

God will forgive and heal us.

As our brothers and sisters hasten to baptism, 

Why shouldn’t the rest of us rush to renew that grace in confession?

Give me this water! (Sunday homily on justification)

 The second reading mentions “justification” – 

we don’t talk about this often, 

so you might wonder just what that is.

From the Council of Trent and the Catechism we learn that 

"Justification is not only the remission of sins, 

but also the sanctification and renewal of the interior man.” 

In other words, justification not only forgives us, but changes us.

And if we don’t change, what good is forgiveness?

The life of God is poured into our hearts and our lives.

In a word, we become saints. This happens in baptism.

Baptism! Ah, now you know why we heard the first reading 

and the Gospel, all about water. 

Of course, Jesus wasn’t just talking about ordinary water, 

but the water of the Holy Spirit.

And you and I receive this water first in baptism.

Remember, there are friends and family members in our parish family

who have been drawn here by that same grace of God.

They are preparing to be born again in baptism in a few weeks.

What drew them was the grace of your baptism, your witness.

So this is even more a good time to talk about baptism.

In baptism you and I are justified; we become saints.

This coincides with something else baptism does: 

it creates a new reality both in ourselves 

and in our relationship with God.

A moment ago, I said that in baptism,

the life of God enters us; you can also turn that around:

In baptism, you and I enter the inner life of God!

When we sign ourselves, notice: “Father, Son and Holy Spirit”

That signifies that you or I are “surrounded” by the Blessed Trinity!

Baptism is the moment we fully and truly become children of God.

Now, the mystery to all this is the working out of grace in our lives.

A true revolution happens in us at the moment of baptism:

total forgiveness, total adoption, total sanctification.

And yet, this explosion of grace in each of us 

doesn’t usually bring an instant change.

More often, each of us still has a zig-zaggy path to heaven.

The thing is, justification makes us truly free – free to say yes to God; 

how it plays out is that our lives are a long chain 

of daily, even hourly, yeses, mixed with nos. 

Thank God, when you or I betray our baptism in mortal sin,

our baptism is renewed in the sacrament of confession.

St. Therese, the Little Flower, got frustrated 

that she confessed the same sins over and over; 

until she realized that if she won that battle too quickly, 

she would fall prey to spiritual pride!

St. Therese’s example is a reminder to us: 

Holiness isn’t one-and-done, but lifelong; 

and not one, but all the sacraments sustain the life of God in us.

Notice something else striking: Jesus himself thirsted!

This is the amazing thing that is absolutely certain:

God thirsts infinitely for souls, 

and whatever path to sanctity each of us treads, long or short, 

straight or twisty, easy or rough – 

God’s unwavering purpose is that each of us will be glorious saints!

Saint Augustine said that the justification of sinners 

“is a greater work than the creation of heaven and earth," 

because "heaven and earth will pass away 

but the salvation and justification of the elect . . . will not pass away."

Some of us look ahead to baptism; others of us are invited 

to wake up again to that glorious gift we may have taken for granted.

This time of Lent is when, despite all our busyness,

you and I sit at the well again and say, 

Lord, give me this water always!

Jesus is the only way (Sunday homily)

 In the first reading, God says to Abram, get up and go. 

Go where? That’s a little vague. But the key word is “go.” 

In the Gospel, it is almost the opposite. 

God is saying, “Here”—this is my Son. 

In other words, Jesus is the destination, 

the “where” Abram was ultimately sent.

This season of Lent originated as the last weeks of prayer and fasting 

for people who are seeking to become Catholics at the Easter Vigil. 

They realized the day of their baptism, 

confirmation and first Communion 

would be the most important day of their lives.

The beginning of eternal life!

They also knew that being baptized 

was putting their neck on the chopping block. 

This is happening right now in Nigeria, among many other places.

Therefore, if you and I are going to risk our lives, 

we have to know: is Jesus the real deal? 

Is faith in Jesus truly necessary? 

This was the Apostles’ quandary as well.

That raises a thorny question: Is Jesus the only way to salvation? 

It’s a huge question and a brief answer isn’t enough. 

So, please realize I can’t address every nuance here.

That said—yes, Jesus is absolutely necessary for salvation. 

That’s why he is the Savior. That’s why he went to the Cross. 

None of it would make any sense if there was no real need,

if any god or path would do.

Why would God tell Abram to abandon everything familiar to him, 

if praying to the gods of Baal and Aphrodite would work as well? 

Well, then, that makes us wonder,

what about people who don’t believe in God? Don’t believe in Jesus? 

Don’t belong to the Catholic Church? Are they lost?

Again, here’s a short answer where a much fuller one is needed. 

Everyone – I mean, everyone – who ultimately is saved, 

will be in the Kingdom of Jesus, and because of Jesus. 

Jesus died for them, and his grace is what will bring them safely home.  

That doesn’t mean it is automatic, but it means:

Yes, Jesus is the one and only Savior of humanity.

Now: many of those folks may be surprised when they get there, 

to learn that it was Jesus all along. But they will make it.

We might think of this as God providing an ordinary path,

which is faith in Jesus, and the fullness of that is the Catholic Faith.

And, without trying to hit this too hard, 

that necessarily means that when we don’t have 

the fullness of the sacraments, that’s a real disadvantage.

That’s not about being arrogant but acknowledging God’s Plan.

Still, Jesus has ways of working in people’s lives 

that go beyond what we might call the “ordinary,” the primary, path. 

You and I, like Jesus, point out this primary path, 

but we don’t forget that God’s ways go beyond what you and I can see.

For example, suppose you oversleep and you don’t show up 

for a big test; if you don’t pass that test, you flunk.  

You might gain mercy, and your teacher might give you a make-up.

Or, she might not. You can’t assume that, 

but such “Plan Bs” do happen in life. 

And they happen in the spiritual life. 

The mystery of how God works in each human heart 

cannot be reduced to a formula. 

It is wrong to say that if you aren’t baptized, you have no hope.

Likewise, it is wrong to say none of this really matters—

that everyone makes it to heaven.

So, that’s my too-brief explanation.

There remains the invitation of God: do we say yes or no? 

We have many people around the world and in our parishes,

who are preparing now for baptism at Easter. 

Encourage them, pray for them, 

as they weigh the greatest question of all, a question for each of us: 

Who is Jesus? Will I seek him, and give him my all?