A homily for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Feb. 7, 2021
Jb 7:1-4, 6-7, 1 Cor 9:16-19, 22-23, Mk 1:29-39
The cliché tells of the patience of Job, but today’s first reading sounds more like the whining of Eeyore, the tail-less donkey friend of Winnie-the-Pooh.
Is not man’s life on earth a drudgery? …
So I have been assigned months of misery,
and troubled nights have been allotted to me.
There’s heavy, and there’s soul-crushing. Then there’s this passage.
A homily for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, Jan. 17, 2021
1 Sm 3:3b-10, 19, 1 Cor 6:13c-15a, 17-20, Jn 1:35-42
In Matthew 22:14 — not among today’s selections from Scripture but relevant — Jesus ends a parable with
Many are invited, but few are chosen.
A more familiar translation is “Many are called, but few are chosen,” but “invited” does make it clearer that an outstretched hand is welcoming the many to a Big Event.
Today, our first reading and our Gospel interweave Choice and Call: of the prophet and of the first Apostles. And of us.
A homily for the Baptism of the Lord, Jan. 10, 2021
Is 42:1-4, 6-7, Acts 10:34-38, Mk 1:7-11
What would you do if, on any given day, the clouds parted, a blinding sunbeam spotlighted you, and a thundering shout — or a barely perceptible whisper — said, “I love you. You rock!”?
You’re not crazy. It’s not a practical joke. It’s not “Candid Camera” or “Punk’d.” It can — and should — be an everyday occurrence for each of us. We just need to understand that we have a role to play in the scenario.
Our role is a lot like Jesus’s role as he was baptized by John in the River Jordan: to serve and not be served, to lead our brothers and sisters to God by example from within the flock. To do the right thing at the right time, even if other people don’t think it’s necessary.
A homily for The Epiphany of the Lord, Jan. 3, 2021
Is 60:1-6, Eph 3:2-3a, 5-6, Mt 2:1-12
Think back to the first time you met Jesus. Do you remember? Was the experience what you expected?
Now, recall the first time you really met Jesus. Was the experience a lot different?
A homily for The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas), Dec. 25, 2020
Is 9:1-6, Ti 2:11-14, Lk 2:1-14
This time of year, a couple of cable channels run a holiday favorite film nonstop for 24 hours. You know the one.
And even though “A Christmas Story” pales in significance when compared with The Christmas Story, the movie ends with a remembrance that could be scriptural:
The greatest Christmas gift I had ever received, or would ever receive.
That’s the core of The Christmas Story, the story we retell today and every December 25 and, we hope, every day of the year in words and actions as faithful followers of Jesus Christ, Our Newborn King.
A homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Dec. 20, 2020
2 Sm 7:1-5, 8B-12, 14A, 16, Rom 16:25-27, Lk 1:26-38
Have you ever given or received a present marked “Some Assembly Required”?
Or, more accurately: How many times have you given or received a gift marked “Some Assembly Required”?
When we’re the recipient, we’ll sigh, make a snarky joke about “the gift that keeps on giving,” and then set to work putting all the pieces together. Sometimes we’ll even follow the instructions. And sometimes — sometimes — it goes together easily, correctly, with no pieces left over.
In any case, a gift that requires some — or much — assembly also requires some — or, often, much — commitment.
A homily for the Third Sunday of Advent, Dec. 13, 2020
Is 62:1-2A, 10-11, 1 Thes 5:16-24, Jn 1:6-8, 19-28
Once upon a time, there was a brilliant priest who grew up in Dallas, influenced by the spirit and enthusiasm of the Protestant Christian brothers and sisters who lived all around him. The kind of folks who, bless ’em, will gladly drop an “Amen” on you regularly.
He also was possessed of a Texas twang — not really a drawl, not really not — so when he pronounced his Latin … well, let’s just say that Caesar himself would have had a little trouble understanding him.
My priest friend, in particular, liked to greet folks on the Third Sunday of Advent with a hearty and heartfelt “guh-Dowty,” the Lone Star way of saying “Gaudete.”
A homily for the Second Sunday of Advent, Dec. 6, 2020
Is. 40:1-5, 9-11, 2 Pt 3:8-14, Mk 1:1-8
If you live in New Jersey or nearby, you know about highways and highway construction. Except in the coldest and snowiest months, a road somewhere in New Jersey is being built from scratch or rehabilitated.
We in New Jersey like our roads. We like them wide, we like them smooth, and we like them fast.
(The only thing we would like better than our roads is a “Star Trek” transporter to get us from Point A to Point B almost instantaneously, and that’s not happening in this lifetime, as far as I know.)
So the notion of “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths” is right up our alley.
Or is it?
A homily for the First Sunday of Advent, Nov. 29, 2020
Is 63:16B-17, 19B; 64:2-7, 1 Cor 1:3-9, Mk 13:33-37
When Andrea and I were newlyweds in North Jersey, a priest at our parish up there preached a homily that has stuck with us all these years.
I’ve adapted it and updated it a bit, but it’s still Father Frank’s, and I’m thankful for it.
I hope you will be, too.
A homily for The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, Nov. 22, 2020
Ez 34:11-12, 15-17, 1 Cor 15:20-26, 28, Mt 25:31-46
My mom grew up in a row house in the Logan section of Philadelphia, where everyone had a front porch and there was no separation among them except for a three-foot-tall brick divider.
On one hand, back in the first half of the 20th Century, it engendered a sense of neighborliness we’re missing in the suburbs these days. On the other hand, privacy was in short supply.
Which meant that everybody knew when her neighbors three houses down got their nightly outdoor checkups on their porch and had to choke down their foul, fishy-tasting medicine.
All because it was good for them.
