Who sees me?

Homily

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time C2

25 September 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG

Who sees me?

I bet many of you here today are lonely.  If you're not, you might soon be.  It's a normal, common human feeling.  It's nothing to be ashamed of.

The feeling of loneliness is borne of rejection.  I have been forgotten, passed over, betrayed and let down.  I've done the same to others.  So the feeling of loneliness, and the resulting spiritual questions, come often and throughout the whole of life.  Am I alone?  Can anyone see me?  Does anyone care?  Can anyone help?

The key as we see in today's Gospel is to try to relate the feeling of loneliness to God. The Good News is that God sees, and cares, and accompanies us throughout the whole of life, as only He can, if only we let Him.  

That's why a prayer life, an intimate one of shared experience and pain, is critical to entering into life.  There are no shortcuts to relating our experience with God.  You have to put the time in, with vulnerability, if your trust in His care for you can grow.  

As always in the Gospel, my soul is at stake.  We see how easily the rich man, who remains nameless, loses his soul by trying to make a name for himself.  Instead of relating his experience to God, he indulges in self-care, which can never be as life-giving as begging someone to care for you.  In indulging in self-care, an insulated character results, and a soul is lost.

Instead, Lazarus prays.  Lazarus begs.  Lazarus relates.  If only my prayer life was like his.  Is anyone there?  Does anyone care?  Will anyone help me?  In the end that prayer is answered, through much perseverance no doubt, for the Lord hears the cry of the poor.

Why do I have a constant need to be seen, known, chosen and desired?  It's because I'm a relational being.  To be alive is to be in relationship, to be dead is to be alone.  The loneliness endemic to the human experience is a pining for life born of relationship.  It's ultimately a pining for God Himself, for He alone can fulfill what I am made for.  It's nobody's else's job, nor could it be, nor does it help to try to take care of myself, as tempting as that may be.

It's a spiritual question for the whole of life.  God, are you there?  Do you see me?

Who sees me?

Am I exceptional?

Homily

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time C2

18 September 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG

Am I exceptional?

When it comes to the Gospel, I think I am, but I'm not.

Money. Money. Money. Money. Money. Money. Money.  Who wants to talk about money?  No one ever does, which is why the Gospel talks about it so much.  Greed is such an easy way to lose my soul, so this cardinal sin has to be confronted at every turn of my life.  Get used to the Gospel challenging my relationship to money for the rest of my life.  And thank God is does, for the sake of my soul.

Everyone thinks they can cheat in regards to money, that I can have my cake and eat it to, that I can have things yet not love them more than God.  Everyone thinks they are exceptional.  No one is.  The Gospel cannot be clearer.  If you cheat in small ways, you will cheat when all the chips are down.  You CANNOT serve both God and mammon.

Yea but what if I don't have as much as others? What if I'm more generous than the person next to me?  It doesn't matter!  There are no 'yea buts,' no exceptions, when it comes to matters of life and death, the salvation of my soul.  I can't have it all, but I can have one thing if I dare it. That thing is the salvation of my soul, which is nothing less than the capacity to suffer and die for who I love.

No one gets around this decision, no matter how much I try to excuse, avoid or put it off.  Will I suffer and die for who I love?  No one gets out of this world without deciding.  The salvation of my soul is always at stake, whether I like it or not.  At an hour I least expect, the chance to suffer and die for who I love will surely come.  The best predictor of whether I will give my life when the chips are down is to look at my bank account, my schedule and my stuff right now.

So how am I doing with that?  I'm not ready, everyone!  I have a cluttered life, one that has plenty of evidence that I am not ready or able to suffer and die for who I love.  I think I am the exception to the rule that you can't love both God and mammon.  Yet I'm not, and Jesus does me the great favor at every turn in my life of calling me out.

The Gospel standard is simple. Give 10% to God first. Then give to the poor. Then meet your responsibilities.  Do this and you will live.  There are no exceptions, no matter how much or little you have.  There are no exceptions, even if I have a hard time trusting the Church or the poor with my money.  It's not about the Church's need or the need of the poor.  It's about my soul.  If I cheat now I also will cheat when my soul is at stake. 

I can't have it all.  Yet the good news is that I can have one thing, the salvation of my soul by giving my life to suffer and die for who I love.

If only I don't try to be exceptional to the Gospel.

Am I exceptional?  In regards to the Gospel, I think I am, but I'm really not.

Who is looking for me?

Homily

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time

11 September 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

Annual Feast of Dedication

AMDG

Who is looking for me?

Too often when I hear the 15th chapter of Luke, I zero in on the two sons.  Which one am I?  Who am I?

Yet I think there's a better question in play - not who am I, but where am I?

This is God's original question to man.  Adam and Eve, where are you?  It's the first question mankind has to answer.  The first question might also be the best.

Who is looking for me?

Too much of my life is spent searching for myself.  What is my true, authentic identity?  It can be a fool's journey, not unlike that of the prodigal son, who tries desperate to find himself by running away.  This approach can lead to a frustrating and endless mind game of labels and comparisons.  You know the drill.  You play this game all the time, as do I.

Am I the older or younger son?  Am I Judah or Ephraim?  Am I an old prude or reckless child?  Am I liberal, trying to cast off oppression real and perceived, or conservative trying to hold on tight to what I have.  Am I a prodigal or a Pharisee?  Am I Republican or Democrat?  Am I a modern Catholic or an old school radical traditionalist?  Am I a Pope Francis or Pope Benedict fan?  Do I watch Fox News or CNN?

The either/or label game can last a lifetime and never arrive anywhere.  It's not really the point of the parable.  Either/or comparisons never do justice to the mystery of a person in relation to a transcendent God.  As I am in the image and likeness of God, so also do I transcend human labels.  Either/or labels and comparisons can be interesting distinctions, but must give way to the both/and paradoxes endemic to the mystery of faith.  The point is that I am both the older and younger son.

Which makes room for the ultimate point of Luke 15, which are parables about a crazy shepherd, a kooky old woman, and a foolish Father.  That's who is looking for me, strange as it may seem.

The best identity available to me is to be dumb, worthless and lost.  Why?  Because God reveals Himself as a crazy shepherd who smiles when a dumb sheep pees on his neck.  He parties over a penny while not caring about millions.  He rejoices at the chance to forgiven even as His sons laugh in His face.

Who is searching for me?  It's a better question than who am I.  Apparently, there is someone who has decided He can't live without me, not matter the cost.  

Why would I search for an identity anywhere else?

Will I bet on myself?

Homily

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time C

4 September 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG

Will I bet on myself?

The cost of being Jesus' disciple is so high.  Will I pay it?

Hate your family.  Give away all your stuff.  Embrace what is most torturing you.  Then and only then you will be my disciple.  Blessed and happy will you be!

Is it any wonder that so many run from Jesus instead of following Him, that He has so few, if any, true disciples?  Jesus obviously failed sales in college.  Or did He/

Would Jesus even take his own advice?  Can you imagine him saying 'I hate you Joseph, I hate you Mary'?  I sat around a campfire with my family just last night.  It was hard enough to try to love each other as God commands, let alone trying to hate each other too.  

Isn't the cost just too darn high?  Do I even want to try to be Jesus' true disciple? 

Jesus' words in the Gospel are meant to get me just to this question which lies at the edge of faith.  Jesus is always extreme because He has to be, for how else could  my obsession with tinkering with my own life might give way to the question of how I will spend my whole life?

In case you didn't notice this week, sports betting is now legal in Kansas.  Don't do it. It's a tax on stupidity.  Still, if bookies were making odds of my being a real disciple, what kind of odds would those be?   Suffice is to say they would not be in my favor. Still, despite the worst of odds, would I bet on myself?

Thankfully, this question, though pivotal, is not the most important.  What matters is that Jesus would bet on you, no matter the odds.  What matters is that He already has.  You know well how it words.  He empties Himself here of everything given Him by His Father, then sends us just as the Father sent Him.  What a crazy bet.

Jesus is probably worse at betting than He is at sales.  Yet His foolishness is the wisdom of God we hear of in the first reading.  Jesus comes this morning not to buy life insurance or hedge a bet like I have, but to go all in on you.  He's too foolish to want to know any different.

It's in the context of His bet on you, that this week's pivotal question comes.  Despite all odds, will I bet on myself?

+mj

Is life just a potluck dinner?

Homily

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time C2

28 August 2022

+Augustine

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG

Is life just a potluck dinner?

As strange as it may seem, I think Jesus' answer is yes.

In Luke's Gospel alone, there are 10 meal stories.  10!  What did Jesus do all the time?  Well, he was accused of being a glutton and drunkard.  He ate and drank with people a lot.  What is more, we know He did so with great intentionality.  Jesus asks us to notice things at dinner.

More often than not, these dinner stories that Jesus uses to describe the Kingdom of Heaven are baffling.  They go against social convention.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but at the end of today's story, Jesus tells us to host a potluck, where you're never sure what you're gonna get!

People ask me often what priests do all day.  Well, we're just like you.  We gotta eat.  How we eat, especially how we do dinner, says a lot if not everything about us.  Jesus set it up that way, in case you're not keeping up.

Yesterday, I had four meals!  The first was pathetic.  I was running behind schedule, so I did a 'sinky!'  I ate breakfast standing up over the sink, wharfing down a few calories all alone without relationship or intention.  

First lunch was with my nephew, who came into town with his girlfriend to talk about how to navigate a relationship with different faith backgrounds.  We really got into it!  The poor server - we hadn't even look at the menus in the first 45 minutes.  I apologized profusely, though this happens to me all the time.  This lunch was like most meals.  It's not ultimately what's for dinner, but who's for dinner.  Our deepest hunger is for meaningful conversation.

Let me skip ahead to dinner, which was supposed to be drinks, but ended up as a four hour dinner.  Again, I had to apologize to the server.  We were 90 minutes in before we ordered anything.  Mark me down as the worst customer ever.  Though maybe not, since at the end of the four hour conversation with a friend the server complimented us for talking so intensely for four hours without looking at our phones.  She noticed.

Let's return now to my 2nd lunch, which was truly a potluck, with college students!  Last Thursday I did an open patio at SLC and told students to BYOB.  A lot of them showed up with no beverage. Their excuse was they didn't know the acronym, or they thought the night might be a scriptures study so Bring Your Own Bible!  But I digress.

Having college students do a potluck is pretty risky. My grandma was likely rolling over in her grave, since potluck for college students likely means just an assortment of chips.  We probably could have been more organized. A-F brings salads, G-L a starch, M-R a protein and S-Z a dessert.  We didn't have all 4 food groups covered.  But you know what, it didn't matter.

Jesus instructs us to get a motley crue of vulnerable people together over a meal to share faith.  He tells us to go potluck. The only four essential food groups are the poor, the blind, the lame and the crippled.  So you have to make sure you have someone who is lost, someone who is broke, someone who is stuck, and someone who is sick.  It's not that hard.

Jesus promises to show up and to join his suffering, death and resurrection to the conversation.  He promises that all of reality and salvation will pass through this potluck party.

Turns out, life indeed is just a dinner potluck.

+mj

am I an underdog?

Homily

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time C2

21 August 2022

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

AMDG

Am I an underdog?

You better believe it!  I'm not sure Jesus could make the answer any clearer in the Gospel.  When it comes to salvation, the odds are not in my favor!

Jesus exposes the question of the bystander as one of the worst questions one could ask. Will many be saved?   Jesus doesn't engage it at all, for it's a fearful question.  If I am worried about the score, I'm not fully engaged in the game.  If I am scared of losing, I've already lost.

How could any human person possibly be assured of his own salvation?  We are talking salvation here!  This is not a magic ticket to a vacation carpet ride that that God gives out willy-nilly.  No, Jesus talks about a narrow gate.  Jesus knows to be fully alive, to grow in the likeness of God, to be holy, to have a capacity to love as God does is the most impossible thing for me.  What makes me think I could bathe others in sacrifice, prayer, tears, compassion, patience, virtue and even my own blood?

If I have any chance of salvation, it will be the greatest of upsets, for when it comes to laying hold of eternal life, I couldn't possibly be ready or worthy by my own efforts.   

When it comes to salvation, I am the biggest of underdogs, and so are you.

Remember though that the 3 latest national championships for KU were huge upsets, miraculous comebacks.  In 1988, Danny and the Miracles came out of nowhere.  In the championship game, the announcers were screaming that KU wasn't good enough to keep pace with Oklahoma.  But we did!  In 2008, we were down 9 with 90 seconds left. Enter Mario's miracle!  Then in 2022 -yeah baby - the biggest 2nd half comeback in the history of the tournament.  Natty Champs baby!

What do I have going for me?  That God desires my salvation more than I am scared of it.  What more?  That Jesus is betting it all of me, even though I am the worst of bets.  It's who He is.  It's how He does things.  He doesn't want to know any different.

An underdog has to start a hero's journey and a great story by believing that anything is possible.  There's hope for salvation in that!

am I in anguish?

Homily

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time C2

St. Lawrence Catholic Campus Center at the University of Kansas

14 August 2022

AMDG

Am I in anguish?

I'm not.  Are you?  Jesus is.

You may have noticed that I'm experiencing a little discomfort. I wish I could tell you that this cut above my left eye was for a noble purpose.  The same for the apparent stigmata on my hands.  You all know me well enough to know I'm not holy enough for a stigmata.  I'm too cowardly to sustain these scars through defending the honor of a friend or the Church.  So I must have done something stupid.  Yes I did.

After three days in Colorado discussing with our students that if we dare to truly see and experience life in all its color and fullness, we need to put down our screens, I pulled my phone out while biking down Vail pass to get footage of one of our students who was screaming down the mountain in a KU Catholic shirt right next to a gorgeous rapid.  This was a very dumb move.  I must have hit the brake with my left hand and before I knew it I went flying over the front handlebars.  At 48, I'm too old for such a spill, but luckily like I always do, even though I'm rarely a safe or careful person, I got away with it.  Just a few scratches.  I landed on my head, but the helmet did its job.

We talked to the students about consequences as well.  Do I love consequences?  Well, I deserved much worse from my careless mistake than I got.  This is the norm for me.  I usually get away, get by and get along.  I always have.  Yet I'm not better for it.  One of our students on the trip said she loved consequences cause she loved getting better.  We all looked at her like she was crazy.

Am I in anguish?  That's the question I want to pivot to now.  Well, if Jesus is, and I'm his disciple, perhaps I should also be.  Not in a joyless or skeptical way, mind you, not in a way devoid of hope or the enjoyment of life.  But yes, in anguish as a default position, to share in Jesus's passion for a baptism of fire, to long to accomplish the great purpose of my life.

To be in anguish is not to be negative, but is to not hide or dampen my deepest desires.  It is to grow weary of tinkering with my life, and to have a great impatience not for the things of God, but for my petty excuses and procrastinations.  As St. Paul says, to be in anguish is to want to accomplish the holy purpose of my life to the point of shedding my blood.

As Jesus makes clear, to be in anguish is the opposite of getting away, getting by or getting along.  It's to be unsatisfied with anything less than the consequences that will lead the the conversion and purification of my soul, that I might have a heart of fire capable of great love.

To be in anguish means that nothing has to go my way today to have a great day, for the fiery baptism of Jesus is disgusted with micro-managed projects of self-improvement, but hungers for so much more, the fulfillment of all desire!  To be in anguish is to welcome the adversity that will purify the spiritual gifts of faith and courage!

Am I in anguish?  Ask yourself this pivotal question!