A homily for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 21, 2024
Jon 3:1-5, 10, 1 Cor 7:29-31, Mk 1:14-20
In a “Hägar the Horrible” comic strip, the red-bearded Viking’s son, Hamlet, asks Hägar if he has any words to live by. Yes, his father replies, there are three things to always remember.
“Never apologize.”
“Never explain.”
Then Hägar pauses and leans closer to Hamlet, who asks, “What’s the third?”
“Don’t get caught!”
A homily for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 14, 2024
1 Sm 3:3b-10, 19, 1 Cor 6:13c-15a, 17-20, Jn 1:35-42
Back in 2000, when Haley Joel Osment was younger and cuter, he starred in “Pay It Forward,” a movie based on the novel by Catherine Ryan Hyde. It’s a change-the-world story based on the notion that, after someone does you a good deed you couldn’t have done for yourself, you must do a similarly large favor for three people, preferably strangers. And, in doing so, you must explain to the mitzvahs’ recipients that they are now obliged to pay it forward as well.
This, in theory if not in practice, would add up to an exponential growth in kindness and justice that could overspread the world.
And even though the movie received mixed-to-negative reviews, the notion — and the phrase — etched a place in our social consciousness.
A homily for The Epiphany of the Lord, January 7, 2024
Is 60:1-6, Eph 3:2-3a, 5-6, Mt 2:1-12
In laypeople’s terms, an epiphany is a revelation or a realization, one that sometimes confounds or dumbfounds someone.
At other times, the epiphany provides reassurance or utter joy.
An epiphany is the light bulb going off over somebody’s head, or the forehead smack — duh! — of somebody who’s caught unawares, or the out-of-nowhere guffaws when that one particular friend finally “gets” the ice cream joke.
An epiphany is a confirmation through observation that something we suspected to be true really and truly is.
A homily for the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, December 31, 2023
Sir 3:2-6, 12-14, Col 3:12-17, Lk 2:22-40
I am the oldest of the six sons of William J. Zapcic MD and Julia M. McCosker Zapcic RN, who, as family legend tells it, met in an operating room during a Caesarian section.
The first four of us arrived in brisk sequence; we all know the impolite term for siblings close in age. And all six of us are unique individuals, united by ancestry and gene pool more than by shared interests. Nonetheless, our love runs deep.
A homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 24, 2023
A homily for the Third Sunday of Advent, December 17, 2023
Is 61:1-2A, 10-11, 1 Thes 5:16-24, Jn 1:6-8, 19-28
From 1959 until 1976, I lived in a split-level development house whose backyard butted up against a berm that shielded us from the Garden State Parkway. The yard, in fact, was more hill than flat, which is why my brothers and I spent more time climbing trees than playing some sort of ball sport.
Any time Dad drove us anywhere besides beautiful downtown Lincroft or La Côte Rouge, he usually opted to take the Parkway. These were the days of Stay Alive on Route 35, and back then, Dad almost didn’t. The 25-cent toll was a pittance to pay.
Besides safety and speed, the Parkway provided one other advantage: signage. By watching for the magic number of 109, my brothers and I knew all by ourselves that we were almost home.
No need for any “Are we there yet?” whines.
A homily for the Second Sunday of Advent, December 10, 2023
Is 40:1-5, 9-11, 2 Pt 3:8-14, Mk 1:1-8
I’m spoiled, and on this particular subject, doubly so.
Having lived at the Jersey Shore essentially all my life, I’ve rarely sat in the kind of summer weekend traffic that transforms the Garden State Parkway into the Garden State Parking Lot. And our family weekend getaways in the summers of my youth were to the Kittatinny Mountains in Northwest Jersey (yes, both are real…), so we traveled opposite the Shore traffic both ways, 5 mph over the speed limit while they motored at about 6 mph. As in only 6 mph.
A homily for the First Sunday of Advent, December 3, 2023
Is 63:16B-17, 19B; 64:2-7, 1 Cor 1:3-9, Mk 13:33-37
During the 50-some-odd years Dad practiced as a family physician, his office hours started at 8:30 a.m. and ended in the evening when his waiting room was empty. Mom never knew exactly when to put dinner on the table, but Dad’s patients always felt cared for.
A homily for The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, November 26, 2023
Ez 34:11-12, 15-17, 1 Cor 15:20-26, 28, Mt 25:31-46
We have a lot of kings here in America, and unlike anywhere else in the world, in America, our kings are people, places and things.
A homily for the Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, November 19, 2023
Prv 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31, 1 Thes 5:1-6, Mt 25:14-30
A while ago, I was doing one of my occasional (rare!) sort-out, clean-out, throw-out, organize visits to the basement when I stumbled on a couple of tools I bought back in my college days, way back when I built theatrical sets. I realized I’ve owned this hammer and adjustable wrench for three times as long as I didn’t — the better part of 50 years.
And like their owner, a half-century later, they were rusty.
