Mustard Seeds, Kielbasa, and Faith: Homily for 11th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Ez 17:22-24

Ps 92

2 Cor 5:6-10

Mk 4:26-34

 

The Bible is many things.  It is a history of the world and a collection of biographies.  It is a rule of life that balances prescriptions and proscriptions, the thou shalls and thou shall nots.  It instructs us in how to respond to God's love and how to treat others.  The psalter is the prayer book that links us to David and to Jesus, both of whom prayed the same psalms we pray today. It is a source of moral teaching and a textbook of faith.  The Bible is also an exquisite form of literature that will never be surpassed.  

 

Both Testaments use images and multiple literary forms to transmit the rule of life, to teach the prayers,  to model the moral instruction, to make plain the history, and narrate the biographies, in ways that make them indelible and eternal.  

 

Today's readings, including the psalm,  define and instruct us in the simultaneous simplicity  and complexity of faith using the image of the tree.

 

Trees supply shade and produce food. They are sources of fuel and things of great beauty;  that beauty is particularly apparent during a New England autumn.  In the deserts of the Ancient Near East the tree marked places where water allowed life to flourish. It is no accident that the tree became the symbol of life. 

 

The cedar in the Ancient Near East grew to over 125 feet tall and at times twice that. It was a symbol of strength, it was a sign of God's creation. It was a place of safety for the birds that took shelter in its branches, and a place of refreshment for those who sought relief from the heat under its branches.  It was truly a tree of life.  All from a small shoot planted by God on a mountaintop.

 

 

Many of Jesus’ parables turn on the question of faith,  how it is nurtured and strengthened; how it directs, or should direct, our lives, how, though given freely and without cost, it requires care and attention if it is to flourish, grow, and continue to sustain us.  Nurturing our faith and living according to that faith is the path to the eternal life promised by Jesus' act of self-surrender.  Like the care of a shoot planted in the ground nurturing faith requires our involvement on a daily basis with prayer, meditation on scripture, and frequent reception of the Eucharist..  

 

Jesus tells us in both of the short parables in today's gospel that once the seed of faith is planted, it germinates and grows and, when cared for, becomes what it is meant to be.

 

In the first parable the seed grew though the farmer could not describe how.  Despite being unaware of the early stages of growth, the farmer trusted that it would grow.  And, with time a small seed buried in the ground, nurtured, weeded, and cared for, led to the mature plant of ripe grain ready for harvest.

 

At only one or two millimeters, or 1/25th of an inch, the mustard seed of the second parable is best described as tiny. 

 

When I was in high school in the middle of the previous century, Catholic girls wore either a crucifix or a Miraculous Medal around their necks while Protestant girls wore necklaces with crosses or a small crystal globe with a tiny and barely visible mustard seed in the center.  Despite its diminutive size, the mustard seed grows into a very large bush that, while technically not a tree, can grow up to twenty feet high with a twenty foot lateral spread, easily serving as a dwelling for birds and a source of shade and comfort, to say nothing of the many uses of the mustard seed itself--which includes its use as an essential ingredient in truly prime kielbasa.

 

Just as it takes a long time and favorable conditions for the mustard seed to grow from 1/25th of an inch to twenty feet so it is with faith.  

 

As we live our faith, cultivate it, and attend to it through prayer, reflection, meditation on scripture, regular confession, and frequent reception of the Eucharist, it matures.  

 

There are periods of doubt and questioning, particularly when life becomes difficult and dark, or when the situation demands more than we think we can ever give. But, just as we speak of the growing pains of youth, the struggles leading to mature faith are a necessary to our spiritual lives.

 

As we persevere through difficulties, challenges, and resolve doubt our faith becomes stronger, more resilient, and more able to sustain us.  As our own faith is strengthened through trial it allows us to sustain those whose faith is weak, it allows us to be a shelter for those who need to rest in the branches of our faith when theirs is shaky.  

 

Paul writes in the Second Letter to the Corinthians,  "We walk by faith, not by sight."  That is the faith of the farmer who plants the seed but sees nothing until it has germinated, taken root, and begun to grow.  Faith is perfectly explained in the Letter to the Hebrews as: "the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen."  Through the eyes of faith we come to see the cross as the tree of all life.  Only through the eyes of faith can we see the cross as the tree through which we were granted salvation and forgiveness of sin. 

 

The cedar of the first reading, the palm tree of the psalm, and the tree that grows from the tiny mustard seed,  all remind us of the prophecy to restore the House of David.  A prophecy fulfilled through Jesus' obedience to the Father, who, through His death on the cross on the tree of life, defeated death forever.  

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The photos are from Horseneck Beach near Westport, MA, a town that sits on the border with Rhode Island.  Have gone down there on rare occasion, usualy in the off-season, to cover Mass.  Made a few trips to the beach while staying at the rectory.  The beach is a state park with no diversions such as restaurants, boardwalks, souvenir shops, or other forms of pollution.  

+ Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

The Solemnity of The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi)

Ex 24:3-8

Heb 9:11-15

Mk 14:12-16, 22-26

 

In 2007 the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, or Corpus Christi, was on Sunday June 10.  The Boston weather that day was as good as it ever gets: blue skies with scattered puffy clouds, pleasantly warm with low humidity, and a nice breeze; the true perfection of early summer in New England.  I remember these details and many others because it was the morning on which I celebrated my first Mass at Campion Center, just twenty-four hours after being ordained by Cardinal O'Malley at St. Ignatius.  Thus, today begins my fifteenth cycle of preaching through the lectionary. 

 

Solemnities such as this one, the Solemnity of the Holy Trinity that we celebrated last week, and a few others, are different experiences compared with those such as Christmas, Easter, or the Ascension.  They are different because they commemorate a mystery rather than an event.  Christmas, Easter and other feasts commemorate and celebrate specific moments and episodes in our history as Church and as a people.  Each has a narrative flow and a cast of characters. The story can be told and retold.  We can imaginatively place ourselves in the action and participate in that history.  We can close our eyes and see the events unfold. This form of synthetic contemplation is the method Holy Father Ignatius used in his Spiritual Exercises.  

 

Today however, unlike Christmas, the Resurrection, the Transfiguration and other events, we find ourselves contemplating a mystery of our faith.  Not only 'a' mystery of our faith but, along with the mystery of the Trinity, a central mystery of our faith; the mystery of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  We contemplate the gift of Christ, truly and substantially present in our midst in the sacrament.  

 

It is overwhelming to consider the reality of Christ present in the bread and wine we receive at communion. It is daunting to consider that the Body and Blood of Christ is present in the tabernacle.  Alas, for many too many, the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist is a stumbling block. They can understand symbol.  They can understand sign.  They can even understand metaphor and simile.  But, they can’t understand real. Or perhaps they simply refuse to accept it. 

 

Each of today's readings remind us of that presence. In an appalling statistic, the majority of American Catholics do not believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  Much of the fault for that lies in the laps of priests, deacons, and religious educators who fail to preach and teach this central truth of Catholic faith. 

 

Historically, blood is the ultimate seal on a promise. The imperfect sacrifices of dumb animals sealed the covenant God forged with Moses.  For this reason, we heard in the first reading how the people vowed, "All that the Lord has said we will heed and do"  as Moses sprinkled them with the blood of dead animals. In the second reading we hear of the perfect sacrifice of Jesus who shed His own blood, "He entered once for all into the sanctuary . . . with HIs own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption." Through his Body and Blood, Jesus is mediator of the new covenant that delivered us from the transgressions under the first covenant and that deliver us from sin.  

 

A priest need say little by way of comment on today's gospel. It would be absurd to gild this particular lily that narrates the institution of the Eucharist.  We will hear Jesus' words in the formula of institution at the consecration in just a few minutes.  Listen carefully.  We don't hear 'this is a symbol of my body' or 'this represents my blood' or other such Mary McCarthy-like silliness.  Rather, we hear, 

 

"This is my body." 

"This is my blood."  

 

words that underlie the great mystery that Flannery O'Connor described in a letter as, "the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable."

 

Today we recall that great gift of the Body and Blood of Christ.  Real.  Substantial. And truly present.  Once we recall that mystery we can only stand in stunned silence and profound gratitude.

 

My choice for the post-communion hymn at that first Mass fourteen years ago required no thought or decision-making. It was almost too easy. The hymn was custom-written for this feast by Aquinas centuries ago.  

 

Panis angelicus
fit panis hominum;
Dat panis cœlicus

 

Thus Angels' Bread is made
the Bread of man today:
the Living Bread from heaven

 

That Living Bread is true, it is substantial, and it is real.  We need not parse it any further.  We need only receive it with reverence, faith, and deep gratitude.  

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I took the photos of the Chapel of the Holy Spirit at Campion Center in Weston, MA at the request of the former superior who wanted high-resolution shots that he could blow up. The Olympus EM1 mk ii has a function that can create a 50 mp photo. It is a tricky process, requires a tripod, a trigger, and a lot of patience to get the settings.

On 14 August 1999 I pronounced first vows kneeling in front of that altar as Fr Provincial held the Body and Blood of our Lord in front of me. On 10 June 2007 I celebrated my first Mass behind that altar on the Feast of Corpus Christi. On 1 October 2013, once again kneeling in front of the Body and Blood or Our Lord, this time held by Fr. General Adolfo Nicolas, I pronounced final vows. Though the date is unknown, my coffin will lie in front of that altar for the requiem Mass before being taken a few hundred yards down the hill for burial among my Jesuit brohers.

+ Fr Jack, SJ, MD