For daily readings, see http://www.usccb.org/nab/110807.shtml
There is happiness to be had in growing in virtue, and in breaking the habits of sin that lessen our freedom to love the things of heaven. But growing in virtue is always the result not of our asserting our willpower but of our letting the Lord find us and heal us at our weakest point. Our goal is not to become one of the 99 righteous people who have no need of repentance, but to find our joy in the kingdom of heaven, where the greatest rejoicing is for the one sinner who repents. Even as the Lord accomplishes great work in us, and habits of sin are continually broken, we are not to become less dependent on the Lord’s mercy, but to find our strength and our joy in our identity as sinners who are constantly being found. As St. Paul tries to tell us, this is the only way for our lives to gain an eternal and lasting dimension; to belong to the Lord at all times. Whether we live or we die, we are the Lord’s.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Homily for Wednesday of the 31st Week in Ordinary Time
For daily readings, see http://www.usccb.org/nab/110707.shtml
When I set up my 403b retirement account, my financial advisor asked me if I wanted to invest aggressively or conservatively. Of course I told him aggressively. I was in my 20s at the time, and wanted to maximize the return on my money without fear of loss in the short term. When I get in my 50s and 60s and see what I need for retirement, I’m sure I will ratchet my investments back and look for more security and less growth.
Our Lord Jesus is no financial planner, to be sure. When we sit down to negotiate with Him, He starts by giving everything that He has received from His Father to us, and then says, if anyone comes after me without hating his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Since Jesus has made the first move in losing his life for the sake of sinners, there is no response that makes any sense other than the loss of our lives.
There is no way to manage our discipleship in more aggressive or more conservative ways. We cannot make God a bigger part of our life; God’s life does not fit within our lives, any more than the Grand Canyon can fit in our living rooms. But we can and should lose our lives within the mystery of God’s life, and in response to the love revealed in Jesus Christ.
When I set up my 403b retirement account, my financial advisor asked me if I wanted to invest aggressively or conservatively. Of course I told him aggressively. I was in my 20s at the time, and wanted to maximize the return on my money without fear of loss in the short term. When I get in my 50s and 60s and see what I need for retirement, I’m sure I will ratchet my investments back and look for more security and less growth.
Our Lord Jesus is no financial planner, to be sure. When we sit down to negotiate with Him, He starts by giving everything that He has received from His Father to us, and then says, if anyone comes after me without hating his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Since Jesus has made the first move in losing his life for the sake of sinners, there is no response that makes any sense other than the loss of our lives.
There is no way to manage our discipleship in more aggressive or more conservative ways. We cannot make God a bigger part of our life; God’s life does not fit within our lives, any more than the Grand Canyon can fit in our living rooms. But we can and should lose our lives within the mystery of God’s life, and in response to the love revealed in Jesus Christ.
Homily for Tuesday of the 31st Week in Ordinary Time
For daily readings, see http://www.usccb.org/nab/110607.shtml
It shouldn’t be a huge surprise that religious vocations come more often from poorer families. This is certainly a socioeconomic phenomenon – religious life represents a chance to receive a great education for very little cost, as well as security working within the mission of the Church. Thus, from a purely financial perspective, priesthood and religious life affords new opportunities for those of limited means while not holding this same attraction for wealthier people. But I think there are obvious spiritual advantages to being poor as well. There are disadvantages to being destitute, but obvious advantages to being poor. The more things that we have, the more time and energy it takes to use them. Today’s Gospel story illustrates that the more complicated our lives are, the less ready we will be to come and to dine with the Lord when He invites us. Have we ever been too busy to attend Mass, or so distracted in our lives that going to Mass is just another thing on the checklist rather than the true center of our day? Today’s Gospel encourages us to continue to simplify our lives; to use the things we have to draw closer to the kingdom of heaven rather than letting our things use us. May we seek the kingdom of heaven with all our hearts, all our minds, and all our strength, confident that everything else will be given us besides.
It shouldn’t be a huge surprise that religious vocations come more often from poorer families. This is certainly a socioeconomic phenomenon – religious life represents a chance to receive a great education for very little cost, as well as security working within the mission of the Church. Thus, from a purely financial perspective, priesthood and religious life affords new opportunities for those of limited means while not holding this same attraction for wealthier people. But I think there are obvious spiritual advantages to being poor as well. There are disadvantages to being destitute, but obvious advantages to being poor. The more things that we have, the more time and energy it takes to use them. Today’s Gospel story illustrates that the more complicated our lives are, the less ready we will be to come and to dine with the Lord when He invites us. Have we ever been too busy to attend Mass, or so distracted in our lives that going to Mass is just another thing on the checklist rather than the true center of our day? Today’s Gospel encourages us to continue to simplify our lives; to use the things we have to draw closer to the kingdom of heaven rather than letting our things use us. May we seek the kingdom of heaven with all our hearts, all our minds, and all our strength, confident that everything else will be given us besides.
Homily for Monday of the 31st Week in Ordinary Time
For daily readings, see http://www.usccb.org/nab/110507.shtml
Friendships are important on this earth, but having friends in heaven is better. Jesus came to seek and to save what was lost, so He was always more keenly interested in those who could not pay him back. St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans that God allowed all to fall into disobedience, so that all might receive the Lord’s mercy. As great as it is to be without the sin that damages our relationship with God and with one another, as great as was the life of Adam and Eve before the fall, St. Paul submits that knowing the mercy of Jesus is better, and the bonds of love that are forged between sinner and savior are stronger. Inspired by the example of Jesus, who came to seek and to save what was lost, may we too be most interested in those people who can not pay us back, but who are in most need of the Lord’s mercy.
Friendships are important on this earth, but having friends in heaven is better. Jesus came to seek and to save what was lost, so He was always more keenly interested in those who could not pay him back. St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans that God allowed all to fall into disobedience, so that all might receive the Lord’s mercy. As great as it is to be without the sin that damages our relationship with God and with one another, as great as was the life of Adam and Eve before the fall, St. Paul submits that knowing the mercy of Jesus is better, and the bonds of love that are forged between sinner and savior are stronger. Inspired by the example of Jesus, who came to seek and to save what was lost, may we too be most interested in those people who can not pay us back, but who are in most need of the Lord’s mercy.
Homily for Sunday of the 31st Week in Ordinary Time
For daily readings, see http://www.usccb.org/nab/110407.shtml
Jesus was headed to Jerusalem, and the little town of Jericho was not that important of a stop. The great paschal events were to happen in Jerusalem – the trial, the way of the cross, the resurrection and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. All the most important things were to happen in Jerusalem, and by the time the Lord arrived at Jericho, Luke has told us over and over that Jesus had resolutely set his face toward Jerusalem. It is true that while in Galilee preaching the kingdom, Jesus often told his disciples when they ascertained his true identity as the son of God, not to tell anyone who He was, for He did not want to get dragged to Jerusalem too soon before He had a chance to teach his disciples about the kingdom of heaven. But Luke tells us clearly that by the time the Lord gets to Jericho, He is moving with determination; he intended to pass through Jericho, which makes his overnight stay at the house of Zaccheus all the more surprising, and all the more significant.
Jesus goes out of his way to seek out and to stay at the house of this wee little, miserable man, Zaccheus, who because of his greed had a little life indeed, a life with no friends. Everyone would see Zaccheus as a waste of Jesus’ time, given the enormity of his mission as the Messiah, and the growing anticipation of his arrival in Jerusalem. Sure, early on in Jesus’ ministry in Galilee, maybe Zaccheus would have been worth a few minutes of Jesus’ time, but to dine at his house and to stay with him overnight at this crucial juncture. It didn’t make any sense. This would be like the Jayhawks driving for a game winning touchdown against Missouri, and then calling a timeout so they could go inside and use the restroom. And yet when Jesus looked up the sycamore tree, he did not see a worthless person, he saw a child of Abraham, our father in faith. He saw in Zaccheus a mustard seed’s worth of faith, and he took the opportunity to show his disciples how to seek and to save what was lost. Zaccheus’ tiny bit of faith in climbing that tree was enough for our Lord to consider coming under Zaccheus’ roof.
Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and I shall be healed. I know this is not exactly what we say before we receive the Holy Eucharist, but it is what the Latin says, and what most of the world says, before receiving the blessed Sacrament. And sometime soon, we will be saying it as well in the American Church. Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and I shall be healed. The Lord stands ready in tonight’s Holy Eucharist to come under our roofs. And just in case coming to dine with us isn’t surprising enough, the Lord humbles himself further by not only becoming our guest, but also becoming the very food that we eat.
As we receive the Holy Eucharist tonight, we should ask that having the Lord come under our roofs would have the same effect in our lives that it had in the life of Zaccheus. Because the Lord came to visit him, Zaccheus became a righteous man, a man of charity, a man who loved the kingdom of heaven more than the kingdom of earth. The same thing is supposed to happen to us when we receive the Eucharist; we are to be blown away and transformed by the miracle and the mystery that is before us. In our first reading from the book of Wisdom, we are reminded that before the Lord, the whole universe is like a kernel of grain or a drop of morning dew. We are reminded that if the Lord ever stopped thinking of us and loving us, our lives and our universe would vanish in a second. We are so insignificant compared to the glory of the Lord, and yet that Lord comes under our roofs tonight, and becomes our food. We are reminded that the Lord who loves us beyond all imagination will do 99.999% of the work, if only we have faith the size of a mustard seed. The Lord says to us, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, I will accomplish amazing things within you.
The tremendous conversion in the life of Zaccheus reminds us that we often do not bring much faith to bear when we approach the Lord Jesus in the sacraments. Even though we know our Lord is really present through the sacrament of reconciliation, and especially in the sacrament of the Eucharist, we oftentimes do not bring enough faith to come out of the interior rooms of our pride and selfishness. Much less do we find the humility, courage, faith and curiosity to climb the sycamore tree in order to see the Lord more clearly. In Jesus’ visit to Zaccheus, we are reminded that the Lord of all the universe will go to any length to reach out and to save what is lost. Will we have enough faith to let him find us?
Jesus was headed to Jerusalem, and the little town of Jericho was not that important of a stop. The great paschal events were to happen in Jerusalem – the trial, the way of the cross, the resurrection and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. All the most important things were to happen in Jerusalem, and by the time the Lord arrived at Jericho, Luke has told us over and over that Jesus had resolutely set his face toward Jerusalem. It is true that while in Galilee preaching the kingdom, Jesus often told his disciples when they ascertained his true identity as the son of God, not to tell anyone who He was, for He did not want to get dragged to Jerusalem too soon before He had a chance to teach his disciples about the kingdom of heaven. But Luke tells us clearly that by the time the Lord gets to Jericho, He is moving with determination; he intended to pass through Jericho, which makes his overnight stay at the house of Zaccheus all the more surprising, and all the more significant.
Jesus goes out of his way to seek out and to stay at the house of this wee little, miserable man, Zaccheus, who because of his greed had a little life indeed, a life with no friends. Everyone would see Zaccheus as a waste of Jesus’ time, given the enormity of his mission as the Messiah, and the growing anticipation of his arrival in Jerusalem. Sure, early on in Jesus’ ministry in Galilee, maybe Zaccheus would have been worth a few minutes of Jesus’ time, but to dine at his house and to stay with him overnight at this crucial juncture. It didn’t make any sense. This would be like the Jayhawks driving for a game winning touchdown against Missouri, and then calling a timeout so they could go inside and use the restroom. And yet when Jesus looked up the sycamore tree, he did not see a worthless person, he saw a child of Abraham, our father in faith. He saw in Zaccheus a mustard seed’s worth of faith, and he took the opportunity to show his disciples how to seek and to save what was lost. Zaccheus’ tiny bit of faith in climbing that tree was enough for our Lord to consider coming under Zaccheus’ roof.
Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and I shall be healed. I know this is not exactly what we say before we receive the Holy Eucharist, but it is what the Latin says, and what most of the world says, before receiving the blessed Sacrament. And sometime soon, we will be saying it as well in the American Church. Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and I shall be healed. The Lord stands ready in tonight’s Holy Eucharist to come under our roofs. And just in case coming to dine with us isn’t surprising enough, the Lord humbles himself further by not only becoming our guest, but also becoming the very food that we eat.
As we receive the Holy Eucharist tonight, we should ask that having the Lord come under our roofs would have the same effect in our lives that it had in the life of Zaccheus. Because the Lord came to visit him, Zaccheus became a righteous man, a man of charity, a man who loved the kingdom of heaven more than the kingdom of earth. The same thing is supposed to happen to us when we receive the Eucharist; we are to be blown away and transformed by the miracle and the mystery that is before us. In our first reading from the book of Wisdom, we are reminded that before the Lord, the whole universe is like a kernel of grain or a drop of morning dew. We are reminded that if the Lord ever stopped thinking of us and loving us, our lives and our universe would vanish in a second. We are so insignificant compared to the glory of the Lord, and yet that Lord comes under our roofs tonight, and becomes our food. We are reminded that the Lord who loves us beyond all imagination will do 99.999% of the work, if only we have faith the size of a mustard seed. The Lord says to us, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, I will accomplish amazing things within you.
The tremendous conversion in the life of Zaccheus reminds us that we often do not bring much faith to bear when we approach the Lord Jesus in the sacraments. Even though we know our Lord is really present through the sacrament of reconciliation, and especially in the sacrament of the Eucharist, we oftentimes do not bring enough faith to come out of the interior rooms of our pride and selfishness. Much less do we find the humility, courage, faith and curiosity to climb the sycamore tree in order to see the Lord more clearly. In Jesus’ visit to Zaccheus, we are reminded that the Lord of all the universe will go to any length to reach out and to save what is lost. Will we have enough faith to let him find us?
Friday, November 2, 2007
Homily for Saturday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time
For daily readings, see http://www.usccb.org/nab/110307.shtml
It is not too difficult to tell if a young Catholic is growing in faith or is losing his/her faith. The ones that are growing in their faith are those who have decided their mission is to evangelize, and to share the treasure they have received. The ones who are losing their faith are always comparing the life they could have in Christ with the life they could have without him; in other words, they are asking the question, what’s in it for me?
St. Paul in his letter to the Romans is reflecting on the reality of the Gospel message being taken from the nation of Israel and given to a nation that will bear its fruit, the Gentiles. It is not that God is rejecting Israel; no, God does not annul his covenant. He is love, and does not change. But the success of the Gospel among the Gentiles was to one day serve as a catalyst for the Israelite people to recognize the true treasure of their faith, and to see Christ as the fulfillment of the messianic promise.
Our Church has said over and over that as Catholic people, we have been given the fullness of the means of grace that Christ intended the Church to have. This is to say that the Church Christ founded subsists in the Roman Catholic Church. Because we have been given much, much is expected. But until that day when the Church fully owns her responsibility not simply to guard the faith, but to evangelize, we should not be surprised that other Christian ecclesial communities will have great success, and even share in the gift of salvation, not as a sign that God has withdrawn his love from the Church, but as motivation for us to fulfill our mission to evangelize the culture!
It is not too difficult to tell if a young Catholic is growing in faith or is losing his/her faith. The ones that are growing in their faith are those who have decided their mission is to evangelize, and to share the treasure they have received. The ones who are losing their faith are always comparing the life they could have in Christ with the life they could have without him; in other words, they are asking the question, what’s in it for me?
St. Paul in his letter to the Romans is reflecting on the reality of the Gospel message being taken from the nation of Israel and given to a nation that will bear its fruit, the Gentiles. It is not that God is rejecting Israel; no, God does not annul his covenant. He is love, and does not change. But the success of the Gospel among the Gentiles was to one day serve as a catalyst for the Israelite people to recognize the true treasure of their faith, and to see Christ as the fulfillment of the messianic promise.
Our Church has said over and over that as Catholic people, we have been given the fullness of the means of grace that Christ intended the Church to have. This is to say that the Church Christ founded subsists in the Roman Catholic Church. Because we have been given much, much is expected. But until that day when the Church fully owns her responsibility not simply to guard the faith, but to evangelize, we should not be surprised that other Christian ecclesial communities will have great success, and even share in the gift of salvation, not as a sign that God has withdrawn his love from the Church, but as motivation for us to fulfill our mission to evangelize the culture!
Homily for All Souls
For daily readings, see http://www.usccb.org/nab/110207.shtml
Why do you wear black all the time? Or do you ever get tired of wearing black? After I give one of my hundreds of presentations on holy orders or on priestly vocations in grade schools, high schools, and youth groups, and open the floor to questions, these are two questions I usually get. And as usual, when I don’t have a good answer for a question, I usually make up an answer that sounds about right. I know that is borderline lying, but we’ll get into that in another homily. As far as answering the question – what’s up with all the black, I usually end up saying that the black symbolizes for a priest the death that he shares with Christ. A priest who acts on behalf of the Church in persona Christi capitis, carries about in his person the dying of our Lord. In Africa, I have heard that priests are known as ‘dead men walking’ Because a priest is celibate, he seems like one who is dead to this world. And that of course, is the point, and so this is the answer I give when people ask me why priests wear black. We wear black because we are supposed to be people who are comfortable with death, who carry about the dying of Jesus.
But I have to admit that even though I believe I am less afraid of death than some people, that even as a priest, who does everything he can to promote faith in Jesus’ resurrection, I know that I am more afraid of death than many people. I am inspired by people who face death with courage and acceptance, who truly carry the dying of Jesus more than I do even though I wear black everyday. I know that their faith is stronger than mine. I am not afraid to go to the hospital, or to the bedside of someone who is close to death, no matter what their age. But I am still afraid of my own death; life on this earth is good, the Jayhawks are 8-0 for goodness sakes – in football! – and I would rather have eternal life added on top of my earthly life, rather than having to face the reality of my own death.
One does not hope for what one sees. This advice from St. Paul tells us that even if we have hope in Jesus’ resurrection, since we do not yet see that resurrection completely, we will still fear our death in this world. And so fear of death is not incompatible with hope. Yet St. Paul says in tonight’s letter to the Romans that hope while not seeing completely does not disappoint. Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. So even as we fear our own death, our hope in the resurrection of Jesus ensures that fear of our death does not paralyze us, and does not dominate our lives. Far from disappointing, hope in Jesus’ resurrection frees us to be people of love, and the Holy Spirit constantly brings us the love that casts out fear whenever it threatens to paralyze our lives.
Many atheists say correctly that you do not have to believe in God in order to die for a good cause. Out of natural goodness and love one may find the courage to die for another, or for a worthy cause. But the reason we are here tonight is to celebrate not merely natural human love, but more importantly we are here to encounter again the supernatural love of God, revealed to us in the suffering and death of our Lord Jesus Christ. St. Paul says that God proved his love for us by dying for us precisely because we are sinners. St. Paul is very clear in this point. Christ did not die for us because we are mostly good, but need a little extra help. Christ did not die for us hoping that if given his example, we might someday be able to pay him back. No, St. Paul is precise. God proved his love for us by dying for us for no good reason whatsoever. God is love; he does not need a good reason to start loving. And so Christ died for us while we were still sinners, his enemies. This supernatural love goes beyond the natural human love that can find the courage to die for a good reason. Supernatural love gives completely even when there is no reason to give; Christ gave himself up to death because it was his identity, and thus his mission to reconcile everything to the Father.
Were Christ to die for us out of natural love for us, dying for us because of our potential for goodness, then there would be reason for some of us to boast before God. There would be reason for us to compete to become more worthy of Christ’s sacrifice for us. But since Christ chose to die for us while we were his enemies, none of us has a reason to boast before God, or to compare ourselves with others. No, Christ died for each one of us at the same point; precisely at the point of our greatest failure, our greatest unworthiness, and our greatest weakness.
Were Christ to die only for those who were worthy, there would be every incentive for you and me to hide every weakness of ours from him. Sometimes we try to do this with one another; to get other people to love us by hiding our weaknesses. But since Christ died for us while we were still helpless, for the ungodly, there is no point in our boasting before God. Instead of trying to make choices that make us look more and more worthy of God’s love, we are to make the one choice of letting our lives be broken open, so that we may know Christ’s love at our weakest point, and be sure of that love at the time of our earthly death.
Tonight we commemorate the souls of all the faithful departed, those who have faced the final trial, their earthly deaths, trusting that Christ would be there to embrace them at their weakest moment. Tonight I am remembering especially my own mother, now deceased for over six years. I pray also for Ben Cote, a 7 year old boy from St. Michael parish who died this fall of cancer. I pray for Lauren Dopp, a junior at St. James Academy in Lenexa, who is facing imminent death while we celebrate this Mass. You all have similar people for whom to pray during this solemn liturgy. In commemorating the deaths of our beloved, may we be reminded of the shortness of our lives, that we may gain wisdom of heart. As we help the souls in purgatory with our prayers, may we be reminded to keep death daily before our lives, and to let Christ love us at our weakest points, so that we may hope for his loving embrace at the last moments of our earthly lives. May our reception of the Holy Eucharist tonight bring us all closer to the new and eternal Jerusalem. Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let the perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen. May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace, Amen!
Why do you wear black all the time? Or do you ever get tired of wearing black? After I give one of my hundreds of presentations on holy orders or on priestly vocations in grade schools, high schools, and youth groups, and open the floor to questions, these are two questions I usually get. And as usual, when I don’t have a good answer for a question, I usually make up an answer that sounds about right. I know that is borderline lying, but we’ll get into that in another homily. As far as answering the question – what’s up with all the black, I usually end up saying that the black symbolizes for a priest the death that he shares with Christ. A priest who acts on behalf of the Church in persona Christi capitis, carries about in his person the dying of our Lord. In Africa, I have heard that priests are known as ‘dead men walking’ Because a priest is celibate, he seems like one who is dead to this world. And that of course, is the point, and so this is the answer I give when people ask me why priests wear black. We wear black because we are supposed to be people who are comfortable with death, who carry about the dying of Jesus.
But I have to admit that even though I believe I am less afraid of death than some people, that even as a priest, who does everything he can to promote faith in Jesus’ resurrection, I know that I am more afraid of death than many people. I am inspired by people who face death with courage and acceptance, who truly carry the dying of Jesus more than I do even though I wear black everyday. I know that their faith is stronger than mine. I am not afraid to go to the hospital, or to the bedside of someone who is close to death, no matter what their age. But I am still afraid of my own death; life on this earth is good, the Jayhawks are 8-0 for goodness sakes – in football! – and I would rather have eternal life added on top of my earthly life, rather than having to face the reality of my own death.
One does not hope for what one sees. This advice from St. Paul tells us that even if we have hope in Jesus’ resurrection, since we do not yet see that resurrection completely, we will still fear our death in this world. And so fear of death is not incompatible with hope. Yet St. Paul says in tonight’s letter to the Romans that hope while not seeing completely does not disappoint. Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. So even as we fear our own death, our hope in the resurrection of Jesus ensures that fear of our death does not paralyze us, and does not dominate our lives. Far from disappointing, hope in Jesus’ resurrection frees us to be people of love, and the Holy Spirit constantly brings us the love that casts out fear whenever it threatens to paralyze our lives.
Many atheists say correctly that you do not have to believe in God in order to die for a good cause. Out of natural goodness and love one may find the courage to die for another, or for a worthy cause. But the reason we are here tonight is to celebrate not merely natural human love, but more importantly we are here to encounter again the supernatural love of God, revealed to us in the suffering and death of our Lord Jesus Christ. St. Paul says that God proved his love for us by dying for us precisely because we are sinners. St. Paul is very clear in this point. Christ did not die for us because we are mostly good, but need a little extra help. Christ did not die for us hoping that if given his example, we might someday be able to pay him back. No, St. Paul is precise. God proved his love for us by dying for us for no good reason whatsoever. God is love; he does not need a good reason to start loving. And so Christ died for us while we were still sinners, his enemies. This supernatural love goes beyond the natural human love that can find the courage to die for a good reason. Supernatural love gives completely even when there is no reason to give; Christ gave himself up to death because it was his identity, and thus his mission to reconcile everything to the Father.
Were Christ to die for us out of natural love for us, dying for us because of our potential for goodness, then there would be reason for some of us to boast before God. There would be reason for us to compete to become more worthy of Christ’s sacrifice for us. But since Christ chose to die for us while we were his enemies, none of us has a reason to boast before God, or to compare ourselves with others. No, Christ died for each one of us at the same point; precisely at the point of our greatest failure, our greatest unworthiness, and our greatest weakness.
Were Christ to die only for those who were worthy, there would be every incentive for you and me to hide every weakness of ours from him. Sometimes we try to do this with one another; to get other people to love us by hiding our weaknesses. But since Christ died for us while we were still helpless, for the ungodly, there is no point in our boasting before God. Instead of trying to make choices that make us look more and more worthy of God’s love, we are to make the one choice of letting our lives be broken open, so that we may know Christ’s love at our weakest point, and be sure of that love at the time of our earthly death.
Tonight we commemorate the souls of all the faithful departed, those who have faced the final trial, their earthly deaths, trusting that Christ would be there to embrace them at their weakest moment. Tonight I am remembering especially my own mother, now deceased for over six years. I pray also for Ben Cote, a 7 year old boy from St. Michael parish who died this fall of cancer. I pray for Lauren Dopp, a junior at St. James Academy in Lenexa, who is facing imminent death while we celebrate this Mass. You all have similar people for whom to pray during this solemn liturgy. In commemorating the deaths of our beloved, may we be reminded of the shortness of our lives, that we may gain wisdom of heart. As we help the souls in purgatory with our prayers, may we be reminded to keep death daily before our lives, and to let Christ love us at our weakest points, so that we may hope for his loving embrace at the last moments of our earthly lives. May our reception of the Holy Eucharist tonight bring us all closer to the new and eternal Jerusalem. Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let the perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen. May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace, Amen!
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