Peace, even in hell (Sunday homily)

 Father Miguel Augustin Pro, executed in Mexico City, Nov. 13, 1927. Image from: https://catholicnovenaapp.com/

All the Scriptures we heard are very inviting:

Come and rest; come and eat and drink.

It’s all very inviting, isn’t it?

In the second reading,

St. Paul gives us every reason not to worry.

And yet, we worry all the same, don’t we?

Isaiah asks, “Why spend your money for what is not bread,

your wages for what does not satisfy?”

We still do that, don’t we?

All this raises the question:

How do you and I learn to have that calm, that peace,

No matter what our circumstances may be?

Yes, that truly is possible: in any circumstance!

Many of our parishioners were just in Mexico on pilgrimage.

They visited the tomb of one of the many martyrs from a century ago, 

when Catholics in Mexico faced terrible trials.

They were hunted, arrested and killed by the thousands.

Led before firing squads,

Do you know what the Mexican Catholics said as they died?

Viva Christo Rey! “Christ the King LIVES!”

Did those martyrs lose everything? Or did they gain everything?

The amazing story of Francis Xavier Nguyễn Văn Thuận, 

who was Archbishop of Saigon, comes to mind.

When the communists conquered South Vietnam in 1975, 

he was imprisoned for 13 years. 

Archbishop Van Thuan managed to hide away, in his cell,

a stash of wine and altar bread. 

He offered Mass from memory – he had no Missal.

The archbishop would use just a few crumbs of bread,

Three drops of wine, one drop of water.

He used his hand as the paten and chalice!

After he was liberated, he called those 

the most beautiful Masses he ever offered.

That gulag was close to hell on earth.

Archbishop Van Thuan found heaven there, in the Eucharist.

Now, one more story, and I invite you to put yourself in it.

This comes from Father Randall Roberts,

Who was a United States Air Force chaplain in Saudi Arabia. 

He was serving American soldiers stationed there.

Because any public Christian activity is illegal in Saudi Arabia,

when he was going to offer Mass for American soldiers 

who were stationed in Saudi, that had to be low-key, out of sight, 

and he relied on soldiers to spread the word.

So, one day he was offering Mass in an abandoned recreation shack 

surrounded by a chain-link fence.

Now, it also happens there are many millions of foreign workers 

in Saudi Arabia, including very many Christians.

One of these foreign workers walked by; 

He looked, and when he realized Mass was underway, 

Here’s that man’s reaction, as Father Roberts witnessed:

The man “pressed himself against the other side of the fence.”

He appeared to be straining his whole body – or at least his heart – 

through the chain-link fence, like water through a filter…

The sheer ecstasy in his face from being present 

at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass – though not able to move closer – 

is an image that will be indelibly etched in my heart until I die.

Many of us face the agony of uneven finances, 

family distress, and uncertain health situations.

Some may be unsure where their home will be next month.

But notice: no fences, no threatening armies blocked us

from meeting Jesus in the Holy Mass today!

Even with the cross each of us carries,

you and I yet have an embarrassment of riches, 

both material and spiritual. 

We are like the apostles who only saw scarcity and crisis;

They couldn’t yet anticipate the abundance Jesus would provide.

One hallmark of martyrs is that, when they seemingly lost everything, 

they still held the true treasure they could never lose.

This is how we can know the peace they gained.

Choosing to live each day as if we possess nothing but Jesus.

Anchoring all our hope, not in our stuff, our plans and assumptions, 

but only in him. 

Beg the Holy Spirit to give us this gift!

'People predestined for the Pearl' (Sunday homily)

 If you want to summarize what the readings are about, you can say,

"People predestined for the Pearl.”

Let’s talk about that.

Before he formed the world, God already knew everything 

that would unfold — all the trouble, all the failure, all the sin.

And yet God went ahead with Creation.

This was an act of love and confidence on God’s part—

He knew how he would overcome evil 

and transform it into even greater good.

Paul adds, “he also predestined.” What does this mean?

It means that God desires and intends the salvation of everyone, 

by conforming us to the image of his Son. 

He offers us more than enough grace—abundant, persistent grace—

but it remains up to us to respond to it and cooperate with it.

That is why we make no assumptions about heaven or hell, 

for others or even for ourselves.

It’s like this: suppose I plan a dinner for ten people. 

Because I genuinely want everyone to come, 

I send each one a personal invitation. I call to remind them. 

I describe how wonderful the evening will be. 

And on the day itself, I even arrange rides for anyone who needs one.

But does all that guarantee that every single person 

will certainly be there?

No. Some may still choose not to come. 

They may even start out and then turn back.

So it is with God’s Kingdom: God has plans for us. 

He gives us every advantage,

and his grace enables us to answer his call freely.

Yet one thing God will not do:

He won’t make your decisions for you.

When Saint Paul speaks of God’s plan, 

he is not talking only about individuals, but about humanity as a whole.

So, when we answer His call, it’s not enough to take care of ourselves;

we care for one another.

This is how God’s plan unfolds to undo the evil in our world.

Thus, we share our faith: 

"Let me tell you about the Pearl; his name is Jesus…"

And in sharing our own story of finding the Pearl,

We also help answer the needs of our world:

we work with God 

to bring some measure of justice and dignity, to the poor, 

to the laws we live by and to how nations work together.

It makes no sense for us to say, 

we have the Pearl of God’s Wisdom in our midst,

and then remain passive:

> when our laws fail to protect the unborn,

> when our entertainment and media culture 

consumes the innocence of the young,

> when you and I ignore the opportunities we get daily 

to be generous toward others; not necessarily with money, 

but perhaps with our time and our patience.

This is not Wisdom!

Solomon was given wisdom, 

but if you look at his life, he wandered off the path. 

If you and I do not use the wisdom and grace we’ve been given 

to make a difference, how are we different?

You might have noticed the role desire plays in the readings:

Solomon desired wisdom. The merchant desired the Pearl.

The author of the psalm sings, “Lord, I love your commands.”

Some people seem not to hunger for God. 

In many ways they do, but they don’t yet recognize it. 

God may awaken that yearning in ways we don’t expect.

But for us — we have been given this longing. 

Indeed, God himself is this Desire, 

in the Holy Spirit poured into our lives. 

If we ask, God will give us even more. 

So what excuse can we offer?

Others can honestly say, “I didn’t know about the Treasure.”

But we know.

You and I recognize the Eucharist as the Pearl beyond price.

We realize that Mass is the closest we get to heaven on earth.

Jesus is the Wisdom and Truth for whom we were predestined.

He is the Beauty that wounds our hearts with longing.

What are we willing to give up to have him?

The 'appalling strangeness' of God (Sunday homily)

 The Book of Wisdom is unfamiliar to most of us. 

But let’s not be afraid of the deep end of the pool; let’s dive in!

This first reading comes from a section 

where the sacred author reflects on God leading his people out of Egypt. 

He contrasts the true God with the fake gods of Egypt 

and, more broadly, with the gods of the nations. 

What struck him about those pagan gods 

was that none of them had care of everything. 

Each had his or her own “portfolio.”

But Israel’s God has no rivals, no competition, no need to “win” or prove himself. 

He alone has care of all.

That leads to the truly startling thing the Book of Wisdom shows us;

that God does not think or act the way we expect him to. 

As the novelist Graham Greene put it, 

we cannot conceive “the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God.”

What is so appalling and strange? 

God isn’t overly interested in retribution or balancing the books.

He is all about conversion. He wants us changed, healed and made new.

Many of us imagine sin like a traffic stop. 

You’re speeding, the officer pulls you over, you show your license, 

accept the ticket and pay the fine. Done. 

A lot of people picture confession the same way: 

break a rule, say the penance, pay the fine, and you’re square.

That misses the point entirely.

The real problem with sin isn’t just that we broke a rule. Sin is corruption. 

Think of a car you love that starts to rust. At first, it’s just a spot or two. 

You can hide it. But rust spreads. It eats away at what is sound. 

Eventually, the car becomes unsalvageable.

Sin does the same to our human nature. 

It starts small, we ignore it, and it spreads—

corrupting desires, relationships, our whole life. 

When something is ruined by rust or wear, we throw it away. 

When people ruin themselves, we often do the same. 

But God refuses to do that. 

And at times his approach feels downright offensive to us.

People mock the Catholic faith: “Someone can live a terrible life 

and at the last minute say sorry, go to confession, or get baptized, 

and it’s all wiped away?” 

Yes, it’s true—because God’s mercy is that deep, that wide, that total. 

But what they miss is that forgiveness without conversion is meaningless. 

It is more than canceling a debt. God makes us new.

This is a big reason why God lets the wheat and the weeds grow side-by-side. 

Weeds don’t turn into wheat on our farms, 

but in the field of God’s mercy, hearts do change.

Conversion is rarely instantaneous or painless. 

It is the frustration of hearing “No” to what is wrecking us —

“No” to the cravings, the grudges, the selfishness — 

so we can say a wider, freer “Yes” to life. 

It’s the reverse path from corruption. 

Cleaning rust takes elbow grease or a powerful solvent. 

Getting back in shape after years of neglect is hard work. 

The same is true for the soul.

Even those deathbed conversions that people scoff at 

involve a mystery we cannot see. 

I cannot imagine, nor can you, what a soul must undergo 

to be made ready for heaven after a lifetime of resistance. 

That is part of why we speak of purgatory: 

the purging of what is corrupt so we can enter glory whole and holy.

It would be easier if we could just pay a fine. But God is not a bored bureaucrat. 

He is the Father who created you for a glory we cannot begin to imagine. 

He is the Son who went to the Cross to pay the debt once and for all. 

He is the Holy Spirit—the universal solvent—

who will undo the rust in our lives if we let him

Conversion usually begins with a moment of surrender, 

but then it continues: a choice, followed by a thousand more. 

Maybe dare to ask the Holy Spirit to show you one spot of rust—

and with his help, make a plan to begin cleaning it.

About Saint Henry (Sunday homily)

 Our air conditioning has been revived 

but is very tenuous so I will be brief.

This weekend we remember the patron of this church, St. Henry.

It doesn’t seem that many politicians have been recognized as saints.

You and I can speculate about why! 

So, when one makes it, we should take note.

One point that is hard to appreciate about Henry 

has to do with his involvement as emperor in the Church. 

He worked passionately to clean up immoral behavior 

in monasteries and slap down clerics who traded sacraments for money. 

He supported more beautiful celebration of the sacred liturgy.

Yet as Americans, the very last thing we want 

is a politician using government power to shape the Church! 

Instead, we apply the lesson by taking up this call ourselves. 

Through baptism, each of us shares 

in the dignity of Christ as priest, prophet, and king.

One great strength of the Church in our country 

is the activism of lay Catholics, being well informed about our Faith, 

and being engaged with decision-making.

For example, Archbishop Casey is inviting every Catholic 

to participate in an upcoming archdiocesan synod. 

This week you can sign up online, just google “Synod 2027 Cincinnati.”

Another way the grace of baptism is powerfully at work

is lay Catholics embracing evangelization 

as their personal task, not just for the priest.

Think about what God told Isaiah just now, 

and what the Son of God told us: 

The ordinary deeds of generosity and justice – 

which all of us can offer – bring the glory of God into our world.

Jesus did not say, you are a light to your neighbor but to the world. 

Yet: that light illuminates the world, one neighbor at a time.

There is another detail from Henry’s life that shines like a supernova 

across the 1,000 years that separate us from him. 

Henry and his queen, Cunigunde, were unable to have a child. 

Most rulers would rid themselves of their spouses in this situation, 

no matter the damage caused. 

Henry remained faithful to her, and by all accounts, 

they were a partnership. 

In the city of Bamberg, there is a massive cathedral which he built. 

I’ve been there. But what I recall most powerfully 

wasn’t the impressive architecture, but the two graves, 

of Henry and Cunigunde, side by side.

It is fun to imagine being an astronaut or a king; 

to do valiant deeds that change the world. 

And perhaps you will ride a rocket and be the first president of Mars!

But in any case, the moments that matter come in small choices, 

out of everyone’s sight but God’s. 

It recalls a well known quote, attributed to many: 

“Sow a deed, reap a habit; sow a habit, 

reap a character; sow a character, reap a destiny.”

Saint Henry & Saint Cunigunde: pray for us!

Be little -- like God (Sunday homily)

Last week, we heard our Lord Jesus speaking to – and about – 

his Twelve Apostles before sending them out, for the first time, 

to be ambassadors of his Kingdom.

In between the reading for last week, and what we hear today, 

The Lord praises John the Baptist, 

who is entirely open to the Holy Spirit, 

while then speaking very severely about several towns he visited, 

because they hardened their hearts to his presence.

And that brings us to today, 

where Jesus contrasts those that are wise and learned, 

and “little ones.” 

Last week, it was the Apostles who were “little ones.” 

Now, he is inviting everyone to be a “little one.” 

Then, we have something stunning. 

And I want to slow down here, to bid you slow down and notice this. 

When Jesus says of himself, “I am meek and humble of heart,” 

realize who is saying this. 

The Second Person of the Trinity – 

all powerful God who created all things – 

is saying: “I am meek and humble of heart.”

God is “meek and humble of heart”! 

I’m going to be silent for a bit so you can dwell on that for a moment. 

(Long pause.)

When God says this of himself, 

what does that fact change for how we, his creatures, operate? 

If God can say this, who of us would hold back?

What kind of conversion does this demand of each of us?

So, as we know, this is our nation’s 250th birthday! What a moment!

No nation in history ever created itself in the way we did.

Our nation is founded, as much as anything, on an idea:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, 

that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator 

with certain unalienable rights, 

that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Against all odds, we won our independence.

We began as a fragile, uncertain republic. We were a “little one.”

Today, we are the biggest of the big.

No nation has been so blessed with prosperity, technology and liberty. 

None has ever been as powerful as we are.

In light of today’s Gospel, that is a spiritually perilous place to be!

Because our nation is governed by “we the people,”

Then we the Catholics have a grave duty to be witnesses.

To be prophets. To be prayer warriors. 

Let me add, just as our nation enjoys such astounding advantages,

So too do we as Catholics in this country.

When our nation was founded, 

our religious holidays were illegal in some colonies 

and we were barred from public office in others.

Today, we have Catholics in the highest offices.

For heaven’s sake, a fellow American is our pope!

So, these successes can tempt us to be complacent.

We have so much richness in our tradition that if we aren’t careful, 

we can be smug, or seem like know-it-alls.

Let’s go back to the astounding thing God said of himself: 

“I am meek and humble of heart.”

As witnesses sent by him to repeat his words: “Come to me,”

Our hearts must likewise be humble and meek.

That transformation happens through our own ongoing conversion.

There is no better spiritual medicine, to change our hearts, 

than the sacrament of confession.

A powerful prayer to begin each day is the Morning Offering.

Taking time each day to ask help – from God and others – 

exercises our humility.

One day, each of us will come face-to-face with Jesus, our Lord.

He showed us what his heart looks like.

Do we not long to show him a heart that looks like his?

Of course we do! 

But if that seems too overwhelming, hear again what Jesus also said: 

“Come to me…take my yoke…I’ll give you rest.”

Jesus is ready to do this work with us, through us.

He asks you and me to surrender our hearts to him, to become like his.

The surprising littleness of the Kingdom (Sunday homily)

 You may be surprised to learn who Jesus is referring to when he says, “these little ones.” 

He’s talking about his apostles!

Yet that fits everything else Jesus taught them. 

Recall that when the disciples asked who was the greatest,

the Lord put a child in their midst and said, 

“Unless you become like children, 

you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Another time he told them, 

“If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.”

And then there’s the Last Supper. 

It is very likely that Peter — the one Jesus named as their leader — 

was seated at the far end of the table, where the servant sat. 

That same night, the Lord of the universe 

wrapped a towel around his waist and washed their feet. 

The Suffering Servant of Isaiah became their servant.

This is how Jesus’ kingdom works. 

We can imagine the apostles being startled — even offended — by it.

In calling them “little ones,” Jesus conveys two important realities. 

First, lowly status in the eyes of the world. 

Second, radical dependence on God. 

As children, you and I strain each day to become less dependent:

“I can do it myself!” 

Later in life, we learn humility on the installment plan 

as we slowly become more dependent again.

So, how does this apply to us?

It means our bishops, the successors of the apostles, 

are called to be shepherds who smell like their sheep, 

as Pope Francis said. 

There was a time when bishops were treated like princes. 

That honor was meant to point to Christ the King, 

but it also fed arrogance. 

We’ve tried to move away from that. 

When St. John the Baptist Church burned down in Mercer County, 

Archbishop Casey was in Maria Stein that next Sunday. 

The same lesson applies to priests. 

We receive a lot of deference — sometimes in unhealthy ways. 

No normal person likes being told, “that’s a bad idea!”

But it’s important that pastors have folks around them to do that. 

Our finance committee, school committee and pastoral council, 

our staff, our priests and deacons, provide that help. I’m glad they do. 

Even better is that we have so many people in our parish

who aren’t just naysayers, but problem-solvers. 

This truth reaches far beyond the clergy. 

It is a powerful thing when parents – or anyone in authority – 

is prepared to say, 

“I was wrong. I showed anger, I wasn’t patient. Please forgive me.” 

In fact, that boils down to six of the most powerful words 

any of us can speak: six words that – it is not an exaggeration to say – 

can change the world. Those six words are: “I was wrong. I am sorry.” 

Then, add two more: “Help me.”

There are a lot of employers who need to say these words 

to their coworkers. Husbands and wives, to each other. 

Jesus never had to say, “I was wrong.” He never sinned. 

And yet the eternal Son of God became a baby in a stable, 

dependent on others for food, warmth, and shelter. 

The Lord stood mute when, through Pilate, 

his creatures put him on trial, convicted and executed him. 

Not for any crime of his, but for the sins – and the reconciliation – 

of the world.

Our God who needs nothing still says to us, 

“Come to me… I thirst… Help me carry this cross.”

The Apostles may have been irked that Jesus called them “little ones.” 

They would each, in turn, be embarrassed 

when they experienced their own weaknesses. 

They became giants as they yielded to the truth 

of Paul’s words in their lives: 

it isn’t me, but Christ in me, that is powerful!

How about you? Maybe you think, I don’t need this pep-talk. 

This is for someone else. Hmm. Maybe.

Or, perhaps you think, no, I really am helpless, 

And God should call someone else! Maybe.