what if you only had one kiss?

 

What if you only had one kiss?

Homily

Good Friday of the Lord's Passion

15 April 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG 

What if you only had one kiss left for the rest of your life?  

How would you spend it?

I can tell you how I wouldn't spend mine!  On the kiss cam!  I hate the kiss cam.  I know I"m the only one, but I hate it.  Whoever invented it should be canceled.  I don't go to games to watch PDA.  I live in constant fear that some cameraman far far away will get a kick out of zooming in on a priest.  When I feel the kiss cam coming on, I make a beeline for the beer line.

So not there. That's a hard no for me.  Still, where?

What if you only had one kiss left?

Until now, the famous kiss of Christ's passion is a kiss of betrayal. Today we stare the result in the face.  God is dead, and I killed him.  A new nothing is the result of that infamous kiss.  The cross - it's so much darker than the darkness before the dawn of creation.  The cross - it's a new nothing so much more hopeless than the absence of that primal abyss.  Back then, evil just wasn't.  Right now, evil conquers all things, even the love of God!  What could possibly be darker than the death of God?  Wherever ground zero is, at Calvary we are way south of there.  God is dead, and I killed him with a kiss.

That's the end of God's love story, and of mine. We can all go home, unless there is another kiss that counts.  Good Friday is pure evil unless my kiss of betrayal gives way to a more passionate kiss.  That kiss can only be where God died, where He emptied Himself, where He became nothing.  This last kiss must mean nothing less than I want to die with Him.  This last kiss can only be  my embrace of the chance to suffer with, and for and in each other.  The kiss must mean that my mission is His, to to swallow up evil and transform it by kissing my cross, embracing what I least want, what I least understand, and what I cannot control or avoid.

Only a kiss like this could turn the tree of nothing into the axis for the recreation of everything.  Only a kiss like this can transform the tree of ultimate death into the tree of eternal life.

You're invited to kiss tonight only if the cross is never again how your story will end, but only and always and forever where you story truly begins.

What if you had one kiss for the rest of your life?

Would you spend it here?

Would you spend it now?

what's my never?

 what's my never?

Homily

Holy Thursday 

14 April 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDg

No no no no no no no . . never!  How many no's did you bring to Mass tonight?  What's your ultimate no? What's your never?  

Mine is easy.  I will never stop trying to figure our life on my own.  I'm too scared to trust Jesus enough to go through life with Him as it really is.

What's your last no?  What's your never?

Peter had multiple nevers!  You will never be crucified on my watch, Jesus!  Wrong! Get behind me Satan.  I will never deny you!  Wrong!  You have said so.  Tonight might be the final final never.  You will never wash my feet!  Ugh . . wrong again.

Whatever no's you brought here tonight, whatever is your never, good luck taking it home with you.  Tonight you're up against a guy who is the absolute worst at taking no for an answer.  Hang on to you never tonight if you can.. I dare you.  In fact, I'm gonna bet against you.

For whenever I tell this guy no, He moves, so that my every step away to escape from Him is transformed into a potential yes that can bring us together again.  And when He moves, He moves dramatically and decisively!

Our first parents said no in the garden.  No, I will not trust.  No I will not follow.  No I will not serve.  In response, He moves!  From the no of the garden He chooses to see the Fiat of the greatest member of our race.  So He moves, dramatically and decisively, from the abundant heart of His Father to the womb of a poor little girl.

What do I say to this baby?  No!  No, I will not hold you.  Don't bother me I'm busy.  Get rid of Him.  Away with Him. Crucify Him!

In response to the no of Calvary, from the denial of Peter who ran away from Him scared, Jesus could see the meager courage of a man like Fr. Dan, and the pathetic yes of a priest like me.  So He moves again!  He moves not only through the yes of the Immaculate Virgin, but even more dramatically and decisively, through my sin-soaked words, to be born on this altar.  Here I am! You thought you got rid of me, didn't you?  But I'm really bad at taking no for an answer. This is my body, broken for you.  This is my blood, poured out for you!

What do I say to the gift of the Eucharist?  I say no!  What will you give me to hand Him over?  Yes, it is one of you eating with me at the table, the one who eats the morsel, who will betray me! Surely, it is not I Lord?  You have said so.

What's your next move, Jesus?  From the no of the ways I abuse and betray Him at the altar, He can still see a yes in you, and He thirst for it.  He can see you little yes, and He won't ever quit on it.  Trust me, the guy is crazy.  Your yes means everything to Him.  As does your contrition.

Lord, I am sorry for hurting you.  I do not deserve to have you come under my roof, but only say the word.  So He moves more dramatically and decisively than ever, from this altar into your body.

Still, the greatest distance remains. Still, Jesus is just getting started.  Unless I wash your feet, you will have no part in me.  No way, Lord!  Never!  I can wash my own feet. Don't be ridiculous.  Leave me alone to figure my life out, to walk my own path.  Don't humiliate me! Never!

Take it from me, the dude will not listen!  Ask Peter if you don't believe me.  Unless I wash your feet, you have no part in me.  Unless I get past your last no, your never, all of this is for nothing, and we have failed.  All of this, His moving from the heart of the Father, through the womb of Mary, through Calvary, to this altar, into the abyss of your body - none of it matters unless you also let Him wash your feet.

So what is your never? Whatever it is, no matter how tightly you cling to it, just know what you're up against tonight.  You're up against the guy who's the absolute worst at taking no for a final answer.

He has come all this way in case any one of us will say yes to His washing our feet.  The sign that He got past my never, is that we will wash each other's feet.

 

does the natty matter?

Homily

Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion

10 April 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG

Does the natty matter?

It's madness at KU!  What a week, baby!  Rock stinking Chalk!  Everybody is exhausted.  Nobody knows how to get back to normal, or put the natty into the context of our real lives.  What just happened was awesome, and incredible, and so unbelievable!

So what does it mean, really?  Does the natty matter?

This basketball team inspired so many.  It was next to impossible not to get swept up in the story and adventure of it all.  The party is still going on!  No, the whole world wasn't watching.  No, the whole world is not saying Rock Chalk.  But I don't care.  We won the natty!  Rock Chalk Jayhawk!

But still, how do I put this gift into the context of my normal life?  I'll tell you how.  Let Jesus remember me.  Yes, Jesus saw and cares about what happened.  His Holy Week comes at the perfect time.  If I want the natty to be something I'll never forget, I'll let Jesus remember me.

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.  Jesus remember me when you win the ultimate victory!

That's what Holy Week is.  It's our remember what Jesus did, how He conquered the fiercest of enemies, sin and death themselves, by his passion.

Yet much more than my remembering is Jesus' remembering me.  This week is about Him.  It's about His revealing His passion for my story.  It's His remembering me that opens up a sacred space for my story to participate in His.

That's why the natty matters.  Jesus comes to invite what just happened, what is happening, and what will happen, inside of his passion, to win more victories in us, with us and through us.

The natty was a small part of this theodrama, this story of how sacrificial love wins, conquering all things even death itself.

The natty was indeed more than a game.  If Jesus remember it, the natty participates in this colossal struggle between life adn death.  It's always about more than winning and losing.  It's about laying hold of eternal life by trusting there is a love stronger than death.

That's the real story of the natty.  It's the story I'm wrapped up in.  Most of all, it's the story that Jesus remembers to invite me into this week.

+mj  

am I humiliated?

Homily

5th Sunday of Lent C

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG 

Am I humiliated?

It's a hard no for me.  When my sin gets exposed, I think I'm gonna die.  I don't but I think I'm gonna.  I once asked my spiritual director if the only way to humility was through humiliation.  He kicked my butt.  He said for some people yes, but not for me.  If humiliated, I wouldn't face it.  I would run away and quit.  Ouch, dude.

It's all to say that if I can hide and pretend and save face I will.  I can't image being in the position of the woman caught in adultery, my sin in full display.  Even if getting caught would be the best thing for me, I'd rather get away.

Yet Jesus invites me into humiliation, for my own sake. The word is from the Latin humus, literally meaning dirt.  It's where you started Lent, remember?  You let me throw dirt on your forehead and remind you that you will die in your sins.  Humiliating, right?  Yet you lined up and loved every second of it.

It's still where we are now, five weeks later.  At least it's where Jesus is.  There He is, down low, writing the only words He ever writes in the Gospel.  Why down there, Jesus?  You know why.  It's so He can look up at you whenever you are humiliated.

When the Jayhawks play tomorrow night, glory and humiliation will be on stage in equal parts.  One can be the GOAT - the greatest of all time - or the GOAT - meaning the scapegoat. What a stage for our players!  Playing in front of hundreds of millions, exposed and replayed by so many cameras, the results never to be forgotten.  It's why players come to Kansas.

It's also why you are a Christian, for glory and humiliation to be played out on stage in equal parts.  

Instead, if I settle for what is hidden, and what I can get away with in secret, neither humiliation nor glory can result.

The woman caught in adultery has the most humiliating confession, yet she experiences something that the cowardly Pharisees never will.  

I invite you the next time you go to confession to put it all on the line.  Take the lowest place, and see whether Jesus condemns or looks down on you.

Through humiliation, you may encounter a mercy that alone makes all things new.

Am I humiliated?

Should the Father bet it all on me?

Homily

4th Sunday of Lent C2

Laetare Sunday

27 March 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG

Should the Father bet it all on me?

First a quick confession; yes, another one!  I bet on sports.  It's not legal in Kansas, not yet, but when I travel I place bets on games.  I'm not proud of it.  I know it's a tax on stupid people.  I know it's a waste of money, attention and affection.  It's an idol and a sin I confess.  Yet I still do it.

I'll be making at least one more confession in these last three weeks of Lent.  I invite you to the same.  We're halfway to Holy Week!  The Church bids us to rejoice today; yes, even in Lent.  Let's end our fasting, prayer and almsgiving well, mind you, yet knowing it's never ultimately about the fasting!  I fast in order to feast.  I do penance so as to not miss out on the glory of Easter!  I fast not as an end to itself, nor to my own benefit, but so that I can experience how little rejoicing I have done.  If you don't believe me tell me why the Church has us listen to a party Gospel in the throes of Lent.  

Like the younger son, I hunger to get up and go experience the affection the Father has for me in confession.  Please make plans to go as well!

So that's that, but it's not the homily. The homily is about this foolish Father.  Should the Father bet it all on me?  Of course not!  This dumb dad commits parent mistake number one!  He spoils his younger son.  He gives him whatever he wants.  He even lets his son insult him before trusting the boy with everything.

What is much worse, the dad doesn't learn from his first mistake.  Instead he makes a mess of himself at the sight of his son.  He won't let the son offer a real apology or pay him back, nor suffer indignity even for a second.  The dad suffers the indignity then repeats his first mistake, wasting the best he has on this unworthy son.

Why is this dad so dumb?  Why isn't this called the parable of the stupid dad?  The older son is quite bothered.  So am I if you can't tell.  So are you.  This Father is ridiculous.  There is no reason, no calculation, no fairness in his action.  The Father is dumb because he bets it all on one thing, that his son might experience and trust how much he is loved.  For that reason alone, He bets it all.

The parable highlights a real problem.  I am loved like this too.  So are you.  The problem is that I can't talk the Father out of it, no matter how hard I tell him not to bet it all on me.  He's gonna do it anyway.  It's who He is.  It's all He knows.  It's His way.  It's all He will ever care about.  If there is any chance in heaven I might trust His love for me, He bets it all.

I hope this question bothers you as much as it does ime.

Should the Father bet it all on me?

Do I need another chance?

Homily

3rd Sunday of Lent C2

20 March 20222

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG

Do I need another chance?

You better believe I do!  By God's great mercy, I get another day!  So do you.  I have a friend who knows I'm not as careful as I should be, so she always reminds me not to die too early.  So far this advice and prayer, and the work of my guardian angel have kept me alive.  I'm grateful, for I really do need another chance.

It's agonizing when the clock runs out on the Jayhawks during March Madness.  It's crushing. Maybe it won't this year, but it usually does.  The scriptures remind us that the clock always runs out, quite unfairly actually.  Deadlines are warnings, we are told. They are also godsends, for my life wouldn't have shape or urgency without them.  I don't know how fast my clock is ticking.  My grandpa Jake is 104 and couldn't die if he tried.  I turned 48 this week.  My mom was 49 when she died.  The scriptures today only remind me of what I already know. The clock is ticking.

I hope I have enough time left to become a better Father.  To date I've been focused on other things.  Bad things, like my sins and addictions, to be sure, but also good things like being a priest.  I've wanted to be conformed to Jesus and His saving graces and mysteries.  Yet there is more I'm being gifted with.  Even though I act in persona Christi capitis, nobody calls me Jesus.  You call me Fr. Mitchel, for I have been entrusted with a patrimony.  I feel like I've whiffed to date. I need another chance.

What's it for you?

The good news is not only that the clock is ticking, but also that your story matters.  God has chosen the future of the world to run through your story.  Not your story only, but your story as much as anyone's.  That's scary for sure, and speaking for myself, very poor planning on God's part.  Yet He is who He is.  He said as much to Moses.  I am who I am.  I am God, and this is how I do it.  I delight in the future of salvation running through your story.  I draw close to choose you.

This is the great theo-drama of played out in Moses' story.  Moses is called out of his ego-drama, his private investigation of the burning bush, and told to back up and back down so He can really notice what God is revealing.  If Moses allows his small, fragile human nature to be called and elevated by the Holy Spirit, he will be fully alive, on fire but not destroyed.

That's your destiny too, especially if you're a jayhawk.  You do know what will be on your KU diploma if you earn one, right?  It's not Allen Field House nor the Campanile.  It's the burning bush, encircled with the Latin phrase Videbo visionem hanc magnam quare non comburatur rubus.  I will see the vision of this bush that doesn't burn.  Now, KU is a secular university without theology, the science of understanding God's revelation, so Mt. Oread has no definitive interpretation of what happens on Mt. Horeb.  Yet you do have an interpretation. This vision is your destiny.

The future of the world will indeed run through your theo-drama, the mystery of your call to become fully on fire with the Holy Spirit yet without getting burned.

Do you need another chance to embrace this destiny?

I'm a Jayhawk too, and I sure do.

am I afraid of losing?

Homily

Thursday of the 2nd Week of Lent

St. Patrick's Day

AMDG

Am I afraid of losing?

If so, I've already lost.  The fear of losing may be my greatest enemy, which makes the battle to be generous one of eternal consequence.  There is no getting around this.  Today's parable of the rich man and Lazarus is crystal clear.

The only things I have are those I have given away.  There will never be any getting around this.  My greatest generosity, my greatest change, and my greatest risk of faith, always lie ahead of me.  There is great hope in this!  The rich man had a chance to change everyday!  Behold I make all things new, says the Lord!

Jesus reminds me often.  Stick around, please!  Don't go home early.  The best is yet to come, I promise!  He knows this takes faith, so He prays daily for my courage.  He never gives up on me, begging me always to not be afraid!

The parable lays out the consequences to clinging to what I have. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can talk me out of it once I let the fear of losing take over.

Am I afraid of losing?