Homily
25th Sunday in Ordinary Time C
Christ the King Topeka
15 September 2013
Year of Faith
Daily Readings
Raise your hand if you're surprised that I chose the short version of the Gospel! I know I'm a long preacher, and the fact that I chose the short version of the Gospel should make you not happy, but even more scared, for I may have chosen the short Gospel so that I would have more time to talk. Buckle your seat belts. Here we go.
No, I hope not to go on too long this morning, but there is a point in this weekend's Gospel that it is absolutely imperative that we get through our thick skulls. At least we have to try. For our skulls are as thick or thicker, than the scribes and Pharisees who were teed off that Jesus was paying more attention to tax collectors and sinners than them. Yes, that's us. For we all understand the logic of justice, but few of us - no, I would venture to say none of us - not a single person in this church this morning, understands God's mercy. We have no clue.
The parables that hit our ears try to resensitize us. They try so hard. Jesus is trying to break through with his mercy. So he puts in front of us incredible parables - absurd parables. The first - a ridiculously stupid shepherd risks losing an entire flock because he goes after one lost sheep. And instead of scolding the lost sheep, the shepherd is giddy and wants to throw a party after he finds him. This shepherd is out of his mind. And that's the point. He is dumb dumb dumb, because he is rich in mercy. He grins even though that sheep he is carrying on his shoulders is probably peeing on his neck while he is being carried back. Or worse!
Then there is the kooky woman - yes, kooky. Weird. Absurd. Out of her bloody mind. The Greek says she spends an absurd amount of time looking for what amounts to a penny. And upon finding a penny, she is not embarrassed that she spent so much time looking for so little - no, she makes it worse by inviting her friends and neighbors for a penny finding party. Can you imagine the absurdity or being invited to such a party. Yet that is the point. For we have been invited to just such a party this morning . . . to feast on the love of a God who prefers sinners, who loves sinners, to the feast of a God who rejoices more over one lost penny than over a million dollars.
My friends, if these parables do not rip our hearts open, we are already dead, and all is lost. For the God of glory and majesty - the maker of everything from the Grand Canyon to the Rocky Mountains - puts himself forward in these parables as a dumb shepherd and a kooky old woman. That's how he wants us to think of him, so desperate is he to let us know how madly he is in love with us, and how much he wants his mercy to heal us. If that does not move my heart, then I should stop celebrating Mass for you right now. If it doesn't move your heart, we should go home.
Archbishop Keleher told his priests often that the one thing you can never fail to tell people in every homily is that God loves them. For nobody really believes that God loves them. That's the original sin, and the deepest damage that exists deep within each of us. We do not believe that God loves us. We have heard it a million times, and none of us believes it. None of us. Even if we've looked at a cross a million times, we still don't believe it. Why? I have no idea. We just don't. So I would even try to improve on Archbishop Keleher's advice: there are three things you should say in every homily. God loves you. God loves you. God loves you. We have to keep finding new ways to say it, because we still don't believe it.
See, my friends, we try to turn life and religion into everything except the most fundamental thing - which is to accept that God loves us, and is desperately searching for the soul of each one of us, more than we can ever love him or search for him or please him - the most important thing is that God is searching for us, in an absurd way beyond our imagining. We turn life and religion into everything but this most simple thing. We come here looking to make adjustments in our lives, looking for answers, wondering if we're good enough, comparing ourselves to yesterday and to our neighbor. We come feeling guilty for not doing more and living better. And all is that is fine and well enough. But the reason we must come, the reason we must always come, is to be found by God's love. We show up to be loved by him, and this is always first, and deepest and the most urgent and necessary thing.
That is why Mary our mother is our pattern of holiness. Before we dare to follow Jesus or act like Jesus as his disciples, which we will never do very well anyway, we have to be like Mary. She says in her Magnificat - the Lord has looked upon the lowliness of his handmaid. Wow. That's it. That the real source of her sinlessness and holiness. Not that Mary was stronger or avoided evil more than us, which she certainly did, but most of all, that she allowed herself to be looked upon by God's mercy in ways we do not let God look at us. She allowed herself to be searched for and found in ways we do not allow God to search and find us. She dared to believe that God loved her, in ways that you and I will never allow God to love us.
Sometimes we make life and religion into something complicated. And it is true that we have to work hard to set the stage for this love affair with God to happen. We have to be disciplined, we have to pray, we have to fight against evil. But in the end only one thing matters - not even that we have loved God, but that God has loved us, and has sent his Son as expiation for our sins. That is the one necessary thing, and the thing we are most afraid of, and the thing we most avoid - allowing God to find us and to heal us from the inside out, from our weakest point to our strongest, where we cannot love nor change ourselves, with the uniqueness and power of his mercy. The one necessary thing is to finally accept once and for all, that God is madly searching for us, and is desperately in love with us. So even though it won't do any good. Even though you won't believe it. I have to tell you again . . . . God loves you! He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. Amen.
25th Sunday in Ordinary Time C
Christ the King Topeka
15 September 2013
Year of Faith
Daily Readings
Raise your hand if you're surprised that I chose the short version of the Gospel! I know I'm a long preacher, and the fact that I chose the short version of the Gospel should make you not happy, but even more scared, for I may have chosen the short Gospel so that I would have more time to talk. Buckle your seat belts. Here we go.No, I hope not to go on too long this morning, but there is a point in this weekend's Gospel that it is absolutely imperative that we get through our thick skulls. At least we have to try. For our skulls are as thick or thicker, than the scribes and Pharisees who were teed off that Jesus was paying more attention to tax collectors and sinners than them. Yes, that's us. For we all understand the logic of justice, but few of us - no, I would venture to say none of us - not a single person in this church this morning, understands God's mercy. We have no clue.
The parables that hit our ears try to resensitize us. They try so hard. Jesus is trying to break through with his mercy. So he puts in front of us incredible parables - absurd parables. The first - a ridiculously stupid shepherd risks losing an entire flock because he goes after one lost sheep. And instead of scolding the lost sheep, the shepherd is giddy and wants to throw a party after he finds him. This shepherd is out of his mind. And that's the point. He is dumb dumb dumb, because he is rich in mercy. He grins even though that sheep he is carrying on his shoulders is probably peeing on his neck while he is being carried back. Or worse!
Then there is the kooky woman - yes, kooky. Weird. Absurd. Out of her bloody mind. The Greek says she spends an absurd amount of time looking for what amounts to a penny. And upon finding a penny, she is not embarrassed that she spent so much time looking for so little - no, she makes it worse by inviting her friends and neighbors for a penny finding party. Can you imagine the absurdity or being invited to such a party. Yet that is the point. For we have been invited to just such a party this morning . . . to feast on the love of a God who prefers sinners, who loves sinners, to the feast of a God who rejoices more over one lost penny than over a million dollars.
My friends, if these parables do not rip our hearts open, we are already dead, and all is lost. For the God of glory and majesty - the maker of everything from the Grand Canyon to the Rocky Mountains - puts himself forward in these parables as a dumb shepherd and a kooky old woman. That's how he wants us to think of him, so desperate is he to let us know how madly he is in love with us, and how much he wants his mercy to heal us. If that does not move my heart, then I should stop celebrating Mass for you right now. If it doesn't move your heart, we should go home.
Archbishop Keleher told his priests often that the one thing you can never fail to tell people in every homily is that God loves them. For nobody really believes that God loves them. That's the original sin, and the deepest damage that exists deep within each of us. We do not believe that God loves us. We have heard it a million times, and none of us believes it. None of us. Even if we've looked at a cross a million times, we still don't believe it. Why? I have no idea. We just don't. So I would even try to improve on Archbishop Keleher's advice: there are three things you should say in every homily. God loves you. God loves you. God loves you. We have to keep finding new ways to say it, because we still don't believe it.
See, my friends, we try to turn life and religion into everything except the most fundamental thing - which is to accept that God loves us, and is desperately searching for the soul of each one of us, more than we can ever love him or search for him or please him - the most important thing is that God is searching for us, in an absurd way beyond our imagining. We turn life and religion into everything but this most simple thing. We come here looking to make adjustments in our lives, looking for answers, wondering if we're good enough, comparing ourselves to yesterday and to our neighbor. We come feeling guilty for not doing more and living better. And all is that is fine and well enough. But the reason we must come, the reason we must always come, is to be found by God's love. We show up to be loved by him, and this is always first, and deepest and the most urgent and necessary thing.
That is why Mary our mother is our pattern of holiness. Before we dare to follow Jesus or act like Jesus as his disciples, which we will never do very well anyway, we have to be like Mary. She says in her Magnificat - the Lord has looked upon the lowliness of his handmaid. Wow. That's it. That the real source of her sinlessness and holiness. Not that Mary was stronger or avoided evil more than us, which she certainly did, but most of all, that she allowed herself to be looked upon by God's mercy in ways we do not let God look at us. She allowed herself to be searched for and found in ways we do not allow God to search and find us. She dared to believe that God loved her, in ways that you and I will never allow God to love us.
Sometimes we make life and religion into something complicated. And it is true that we have to work hard to set the stage for this love affair with God to happen. We have to be disciplined, we have to pray, we have to fight against evil. But in the end only one thing matters - not even that we have loved God, but that God has loved us, and has sent his Son as expiation for our sins. That is the one necessary thing, and the thing we are most afraid of, and the thing we most avoid - allowing God to find us and to heal us from the inside out, from our weakest point to our strongest, where we cannot love nor change ourselves, with the uniqueness and power of his mercy. The one necessary thing is to finally accept once and for all, that God is madly searching for us, and is desperately in love with us. So even though it won't do any good. Even though you won't believe it. I have to tell you again . . . . God loves you! He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. Amen.
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