A homily for the Third Sunday of Easter, April 18, 2021
Acts 3:13-15, 17-19, 1 Jn 2:1-5a, Lk 24:35-48
“Witness” is an odd word.
It’s a noun, and a vivid one at that.
It’s a verb, and it can be transitive or intransitive.
Frankly, it’s a miracle “witness” isn’t every other part of speech as well.
A homily for the Second Sunday of Easter, April 11, 2021
Acts 4:32-35, 1 Jn 5:1-6, Jn 20:19-31
The bumper stickers are plentiful. The sentiment should be universal.
Live simply so that others may simply live.
The quote is credited to Mahatma Gandhi, whose life is a shining example of walking the talk.
The bumper stickers are a shining example of portable theology, and their sales (mostly) support activist groups walking the talk.
Truth via SUV.
A homily for Easter Sunday, the Resurrection of the Lord, April 4, 2021
Acts 10:34a, 37-43, Col 3:1-4, Jn 20:1-9
Did our jaws drop this morning? They should have.
Did we shout “Alleluia!” for its own sake, not just because it was in a prayer we had to say at church? We should have.
Did we greet each other with “Christos anesti! Alethos anesti!” or another culturally appropriate way of saying Christ is risen; truly, he is risen? We must.
A homily for Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion, March 28, 2021
Mk 11:1-10, Is 50:4-7, Phil 2:6-11, Mk 14:1—15:47
Regular church-goers know Palm Sunday’s Mass as the one with the extra Gospel and the extra-long Gospel. A lot of standing; a lot of thinking. With any luck, not a long homily or sermon, though the extra time to sit might be welcome if the preacher is not too boring.
And today’s Gospel about the humiliation, torture and horrifying death of Jesus, though familiar, always provokes strong emotions. What his persecutors did to Christ. What Christ did for us. What Christ still does for us every day of our lives, which themselves are a gift from our Triune God and for which we should — we must — be grateful every day of our lives.
This isn’t a homily about any of that.
A homily for the Fifth Sunday of Lent, March 21, 2021
Jer 31:31-34, Heb 5:7-9, Jn 12:20-33
We were reminded in last week’s Gospel of the great gift of God’s love — Emmanuel, God With Us, Jesus the Christ, God’s only-begotten Son — and this week our Gospel lays out in blunt, almost harsh, terms just how far Jesus is willing to go to save us from ourselves.
His divine perfection vs. our human imperfection.
His freedom from sin vs. our perpetual sliding into sin.
His laying down his life vs. our running from the slightest hint of danger.
A homily for the Fourth Sunday of Lent, March 14, 2021
2 Chr 36:14-16, 19-23, Eph 2:4-10, Jn 3:14-21
Whenever some people hear this Gospel proclaimed or read it for themselves, they quickly jump to the second paragraph, known popularly by its chapter and verse: John 3:16.
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him might not perish
but might have eternal life.
And that is a beautiful, powerful verse from John, perhaps the essence of John’s Gospel. That verse encompasses faith, hope and love, the bedrock virtues of our relationship with our Creator.
What it has to do with rainbow wigs and clown makeup at pro football games, I’ll never know.
But it’s the verse at the end of today’s selection from Scripture that’s worth exploring today.
[W]hoever lives the truth comes to the light,
so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God.
A homily for the Third Sunday of Lent, March 7, 2021
Ex 20:1-17, 1 Cor 1:22-25, Jn 2:13-25
“I want you to get up right now. Sit up. Go to your windows. Open them and stick your head out and yell – ‘I’m as mad as hell and I’m not gonna take this anymore!’ Things have got to change. But first, you’ve gotta get mad! … You’ve got to say, ‘I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take this anymore!’ Then we’ll figure out what to do about the depression and the inflation and the oil crisis. But first, get up out of your chairs, open the window, stick your head out, and yell, and say it: ‘I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take this anymore!’” — From “Network”
That was 45 years ago. It could be today. It should be today.
You’re a poet, and you don’t know it, but your feet sure show it: They’re long fellows and they smell like the dickens!
The assignments at St. Leo the Great School could be challenging, and by that I mean they often challenged us to get out of our comfort zones. They challenged us to think outside the box. They challenged us to try something new.
With widely varying results.
A homily for the Second Sunday of Lent, Feb. 28, 2021
Gn 22:1-2, 9a, 10-13, 15-18, Rom 8:31b-34, Mk 9:2-10
When was the last time you let yourself be wowed, be amazed, to have your socks knocked off?
We’ve all been in some degree of lockdown for about a year now, and there haven’t been a lot of opportunities or reasons for our jaws to drop. We do have Zoom, and we do have our small joys, but all in all, many of our lives these days are more humdrum than historic.
So:
When was the last time you let yourself be wowed, be amazed, to have your socks knocked off by Jesus?
A homily for the First Sunday of Lent, Feb. 21, 2021
Gn 9:8-15, 1 Pt 3:18-22, Mk 1:12-15
Chocolate and ice cream are not sinful.
Hot dogs and bologna are not evil.
Tuna casseroles are, but that’s a whole nuther kettle of fish.
As we mark the First Sunday of Lent 2021, we can concentrate on the little things we choose to “give up” or we can concentrate on the big things we really ought to be giving up. And the crosses of all sizes that we should be picking up.
