True intimacy (Sunday homily)

 That first reading is surprising:

Do you and I talk to God this way?

“You duped me!” I am miserable because of You!

If you think about it, that’s a conversation

between two who are very close.

That’s intimacy.

“Intimate” means what is most personal and private;

what is closest to who we really are.

So “intimacy” is sharing that with someone else;

it’s when we feel free and safe doing that.

Jeremiah felt free and safe to yell at God!

Now, “intimacy” is often used to describe

a physical relationship: acts pertaining to marriage.

But if we primarily associate intimacy with those physical acts,

that can lead to some misunderstandings.

Where does that leave a close friendship, or the intimacy of siblings, 

or the closeness we want to have with our parents or children?

What about intimacy with God – 

as Jeremiah had, and as the Apostles were drawn into by Jesus?

This is a point I make with couples when they are engaged.

Our society takes for granted that a couple will get physical.

Waiting till marriage may sound like an outmoded idea,

but the danger is that focusing on one aspect 

can cause many other important avenues to be neglected, 

which are the broader dimensions of true intimacy.

The more threads of intimacy a couple develops,

The stronger their marriage, 

especially when facing inevitable stresses.

When you think about it, it’s obvious that intimacy 

in the truest sense goes so far beyond the physical. 

It’s a sharing of all that matters most.

This experience is what is nourishing and life-giving, 

both in our friendships and our families,

 and of course, all this is a reflection of the intimacy 

we can have with God, who is our source and our hope.

Our souls thirst for God.

So much addiction and unhappiness come from 

feeding that thirst with paltry substitutes.

I submit there is a crisis of intimacy in our time.

Many people report not really having close friendships.

Sustaining this intimacy is a huge issue in married life.

I know, because married people tell me so.

Folks my age spend 3-4 hours a day online, on average.

For those 16-24? It’s six hours, sometimes more.

The Internet is a great tool but can be an illusion.

The practical remedy is almost too simple: 

Put down the phone and have old-fashioned face-time.

A regular date-night with your spouse.

Play touch football or a game of cards with family or friends.

Give yourself silence with God. 

Look at what’s happening in the Gospel. 

Jesus is drawing the Apostles, Peter in particular, into intimacy.

Notice the Lord shares the “inside story” of his plan for saving us, 

and he describes how it will involve a terrible cost: his own life. 

Peter draws back, he isn’t ready for that.

But Jesus insists:

If you want to know me, walk with me, this is the path.

What he says to Peter, he says to you and me:

You can’t know Christ without his Cross.

Intimacy isn’t just about good stuff, the fun stuff,

without the deeper stuff, without pain and cost.

Real relationships and deep joy require gift and, yes, risk.

St. Paul speaks of making ourselves a “living sacrifice.”

Can you put yourself out there as an offering to another?

It is risky, it is costly; but is it worth it? You tell me.

Is it worth it having a close friend, a life-partner?

Having a sacred space of trust and safety?

This points to the true heart of the Gospel, the part many miss.

Our Faith isn’t just a series of beliefs.

Jesus comes to welcome us to intimacy 

only a Creator and creature can have. 

This is where personal prayer and time with God is essential.

And reconciliation and working things out in confession.

Nothing is more personal. 

And no one can do it for you. 

You must respond to his invitation yourself.

The Church is God's Prophet today (Sunday homily)

In today’s Gospel the Apostles face a choice: 

Play it safe or put everything on the line. 

First the Lord asks an easy question: 

“What are folks saying about me?” 

And they all have something to say.

Then, Jesus puts them on the spot: 

“And who do you say that I am?” 

Now Simon steps out alone: 

“You are the Anointed One: the Son of the Living God.” 

Even early in life—when we’re kids in school— 

we face the choice of melting into the crowd, 

or standing up and standing out, for what is right. 

It’s not fair that others hang back, 

letting you step up alone; but that’s life. 

That gnawing in your stomach? That’s normal. 

That voice that tells you to speak up? 

That’s your conscience. 

And however hard stepping up is to do, 

Do you know what feels worse?

The appalling regret that comes from knowing 

what you should have done or said, 

but didn’t find the nerve to do. 

Simon commits himself. 

That’s when Jesus says: “You are Peter—you are Rock— 

And upon this Rock I will build my Church.” 

Jesus makes a promise here: 

The Rock will stand; the Church will stand; and she has. 

This scene happened in Caesarea Philippi.

There you can still see what Peter saw:

a massive wall of rock, 

and at its base pagan temples (now ruins)

dedicated to the emperor.

In that setting Jesus said, “upon this Rock”—

meaning Peter and his profession of faith. 

Thirty years later, in Rome, Peter was crucified under Nero.

His disciples buried him nearby and marked the grave 

with a red stone, and the words, Petros eni: “Peter is within.”

For centuries, no one had seen the tomb; some called it a legend.

Fast-forward to the 1940s; there are excavations below the altar.

A shovel strikes something hard. 

It’s a red stone, bearing a hand-written scrawl, in Greek: Petros eni!

Directly above, in the nave of the church, in letters four feet high, 

stand the words we heard today:

“Upon this Rock I will build my Church.” 

The Church is literally built on Peter—but not on Peter by himself;

but on Peter transformed by Christ. 

We believe Christ protects the Church, in a supernatural way,

from teaching error. This is what we call infallibility.

It does not mean the pope has all the answers,

or that every pope has lived a saintly life.

It means that when the pope gives definitive teaching

to the entire Church on faith and morals,

God prevents him from binding the Church to error. 

The first reading gives the rationale:

God’s people needed a leader who would be

“a peg in a sure spot,” a father to Jerusalem. 

We’re discouraged by human failure in the life of our Church.

The amazing thing is how often the Church has done what Peter did:

speak up, even when alone.

That has been our prophetic role, to defend human dignity

in the face of a rush to ill-considered “progress.” 

Pope St. Paul VI stood nearly alone when he reaffirmed

that marital love is meant to be both unifying and life-giving, 

and so, neither aspect should be excluded.

We continue that lonely task today

whenever we defend the dignity of the unborn and elderly,

or of any person society is tempted to discard. 

It’s hard to stand up against the crowd. 

How alone Peter might have felt, about to die,

standing in the center of pagan Rome, 

with everyone jeering, “what a fool!”

Yet where is Nero? Where is mighty Rome?

Gone; plundered; turned to dust.

And if we find it hard to accept the teachings of the Church, remember: 

everyone likes a prophet when he tells us we’re right;

And we can’t stand a prophet who tells us we’re wrong.

But isn’t that exactly what we need a prophet for?

Overcoming discouragement (Sunday homily)

 There’s a word for what is happening in all the readings; 

what is happening for Elijah, for Saint Paul, and for Saint Peter. 

That word is discouragement.

And there is a word for what cures it. And that is joy. 

In the first reading, Elijah has fled to the mountain 

because he is discouraged. He tried to spark revival of faith, 

and the queen seeks to kill him. He feels very alone and overwhelmed.

In the second reading, Paul is “in anguish” for his fellow Jews 

who have resisted the message of Jesus Christ.

Peter, in the Gospel, is disheartened by the storm raging around him, 

and he begins to sink.

Meanwhile, there are trends that trouble us all.

So many of us face the same discouragement Elijah and Paul did.

You and I see members of our families, 

people who were once active in the Faith, drifting away.

We see ways our nation is heading in the wrong direction.

If you want to be discouraged, there are plenty of opportunities.

But there is always a choice.

Sometimes people give into fatalism, saying, 

“There’s nothing we can do!” 

Believe me, I’ve felt it too; yet you and I must remind ourselves:

If we truly believe in God, there is no room for fatalism.

Instead, you and I must seek that which Elijah needed to renew, 

and what Peter lost sight of. And that is joy.

I was inspired by reading the words of Charles Chaput, 

the former Archbishop of Philadelphia, who said, 

while Christians need to see the world’s problems as they are, 

“we can’t let the weight of the world crush the joy 

that is our birthright 

by our rebirth in Jesus Christ through baptism,” he said.

So, what is joy? Well, it isn’t simply happiness, 

because we can know joy even in times of great suffering. 

Let me give you an example that may surprise you.

I knew an older couple in Piqua, married over 60 years. 

The wife became ill, and got worse and worse; 

and I was called to visit her in the hospital. 

When I entered that small hospital room, it was packed – 

maybe 20 people or more. 

Everyone was praying, centered on their mother and grandmother, 

in bed, with her husband sitting by her, holding her hand. 

She was leading the prayers. 

Then came a moment when she couldn’t speak, 

but her husband kept praying. 

Then, he finally stopped. We all knew she was gone.

And he broke the silence with these words: 

“I’m heart-broken, but I’m joyful.”

Death was all too real, 

but something else is infinitely more real, 

and that is Jesus Christ, and that is hope, and that is joy!

That man knew he would see his wife again;

He was drawing on the reservoir of faith they had shared;

He looked forward to experiencing the fullest joy from its source,

Which is Jesus Christ, whom his wife went to meet first.

So we might ask, what steals our joy? Many things, 

including discouragement, resentment, 

and worry about the cares of the world.

Some of us pay too much attention to the news and the Internet. 

It’s just like what happened to Peter: we see the waves crashing 

and the wind howling, and we start to sink.

But it wasn’t the storm that sunk Peter; 

it was looking away from Jesus.

So if stormy news on TV or the Internet gets you anxious, 

there is a simple solution: Turn it off!

Our inflated ego tells us, “oh, I need to know!”

But mostly that’s not true. 

We might need 5 minutes of news, not 5 hours. 

Put down that phone and pick up a Rosary.

You’ll hear that quiet whisper Elijah heard in the silence.

Stop staring at the screen and look instead at another human face. 

Human relationships are messy, 

but they are also where real love happens; and those relationships 

are the only possession we can enjoy for eternity. 

The choice is yours: tremble at the storm or fix your gaze on Jesus.

When he is our focus, 

what will shine in our face is the light of heaven, pure joy, 

and people will see that and will want to know where it comes from.

They will want what you and I have.

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.