It Was An Amazing Pass But . . . Homily for the 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Wis 1:13-15, 2:23-24

Ps 30:2,4,5,6,11-13,

2 Cor 8:7,9, 11-13

Mk 5:21-43

One of the spectacular choruses in Handel's Messiah is a study in contrasts.  In the superb recording by Boston Baroque it begins with a short minor chord on the organ after which the chorus sings a cappella: "Since by man came death." twice.  Then the organ and orchestra explode with joy as the chorus proclaims: "By man came also the resurrection of the dead" three times.  Then another somber chord leads into another a cappella passage:  "For as in Adam all die"  twice.  That is followed by another explosion of fortissimo rejoicing as organ, orchestra and chorus proclaim:  "Even so in Christ shall all be made alive" four times.  The same sort of contrast is apparent in today's readings. 

The first reading began with "God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living." 

God is not a sadistic puppeteer who induces personal tragedy in random fashion.

Nor is God a benign magician who guides a desperation pass into the arms of a receiver in the end-zone, this includes the Doug Flutie to Gerry Phalen bomb with zero seconds remaining when BC beat Miami on November 23, 1984.  Both ends of the continuum represent a faith that is fit only for three year-olds.  God created the world for mankind.  God created us in His own image to be imperishable.  We promptly rejected the gifts of that creation for the hubris of being self-determining and destructive.  Thus death entered the world.  And so it remains: hubris, sin, and death.  But then we see hope in today's long Gospel reading.

It would be easy to spend most of a semester on this particular Gospel passage. 

Faith, death, ritual impurity, the significance of a 12 year-old girl and a 12 year flow of blood.  Sociology, medicine, theology, philosophy and more, all wrapped up in one reading.

The gospel includes what is sometimes called a "Markan Sandwich" a term I’d never heard until theology school.  A Markan sandwich begins with a narrative that is interrupted by a different self-contained narrative followed by the conclusion of the first narrative.  The themes uniting both narratives today are faith and the most dire forms of ritual impurity: blood and death.

The woman was excluded from full-participation in the land of the living by her chronic state of ritual impurity.  That state was due to what today is called dysfunctional uterine bleeding.  Uterine cancer?  Fibroids?  I have no clue.  She was continuously bleeding and was also infertile, something that was seen as a great curse.  Merely being touched by her, intentionally or accidentally, would transmit that ritual impurity requiring purification of the one touched. 

In the second narrative Jesus risked ritual impurity by touching the dead body of a 12 year-old girl. 

Of course today we are much too sophisticated to believe in ritual impurity.  We are too modern to believe that the mere touch of another individual could defile or contaminate us.  And, if you believe that there is this bridge in a place called Brooklyn. . . .

Suggest that animals have their place and it does not approach that of humans, and one may be accused of being a "speciesist," whatever that might mean.   God forbid one should state that male to female transsexual athletes do not belong competing against women.  One could be sent to reeducation camp somewhere in California.  We still believe in ritual impurity.  We call it by other names but we are still attuned to it. 

"Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead." We heard this reiterated in the Alleluia verse:  "Our Savior Jesus Christ destroyed death and brought life to light through the Gospel."

He offers that life to all of us through faith, the faith of the woman who had heard about Jesus and was sufficiently daring to mingle with a crowd to whom she could impart her impurity.  She risked being beaten or stoned for touching others—rather like walking into a room without a mask during covid—but took the risk to touch Jesus' clothing so that she might be healed. 

Jesus offers life to us through the faith of the little girl's father who was willing to endure the crowd's ridicule to seek help for his daughter.

Jesus' miracles did not generate faith where there was none.  The miracles were driven by the faith of the petitioners. Jesus offers us the same healing in the sacraments of the Church: He offers healing in the baptism that cleanses us from original sin and begins our journey into full communion with the Church.

He offers healing in the sacrament of confession that removes the stain of the sins we choose to commit.

He offers healing in the sacrament of the Eucharist in which we receive His True Body and Blood.

In light of these great gifts we can only sing with the psalmist:

"Hear O Lord, and have pity on me;

O Lord, be my helper.

You changed my mourning into dancing:

O Lord, my God, forever will I give you thanks."

_________________________________________________

 

Photos are from June 2014.  They were taken on a trip to the French Alps with the Jesuit community from Lyon, France.   It was great not speaking French.  I was able to skip the seminars and wander with the camera.  Absolutely great. 

We went to Villaret, the birthplace of St. Peter Faber, one of the first Jesuits and the first Jesuit priest as he was already ordained when the Society was approved in 1540

The Jesuits community walking in silence toward the chapel built over Faber's birthplace.

The chapel.  It is as tiny as it looks.  I remain outside in the doorway.  Novices were perched on the windowsills.

The view of a meadow.

Taken on 21 June the annual Fête de la Musique.  Two band were in front of the church competing while playing songs alternately.  The only one I remember was 'Under the Sea' which functioned as an ear worm during Mass. 

A cyclist.  One of the few times I successfully panned a figure in action.

The owner was refreshing himself in a nearby fountain.  Love the lines of a bicycle.

Several types of wine on a reflective surface.

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Getting Through the Storm: Homily for the 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Jb 38:1, 8-11

107:23-31

Mk 35-41

 

The image of stormy seas brings the first reading, the psalm, and the gospel together.

 

The first reading from Job is the beginning of the final part of the long book.  The Jewish Study Bible titles this section “The Lord’s Speeches to Job and Job’s Responses.” The reading is discontinuous, beginning as it does with verse 1 and then jumping to verses 8 to 11.  God asks Job, who was demanding explanations, if he was there when the Lord created the world, when the Lord set the limits on the sea and determined where the waters might go.

 

It is fascinating reading particularly in view of some of the scare tactics of global warming enthusiasts who have replaced the global freezing enthusiasts of  my youth. No, we were not there either when God placed limits on the sea,

determined how the climate will evolve, or anything else. We will never comprehend it.

 

Today’s Gospel  includes the narrative of one of Jesus’ “nature miracles.”  There are many fewer nature miracles, such as the calming of the sea, than there are healing miracles.  The late John Meier counts eight nature miracles compared with twenty-three healing or exorcism miracles. However, the nature miracles have a similar effect as the healing miracles on those who witness them.

 

None of the miracles recorded in scripture were meant to produce faith where there was none.  Rather, the miracles strengthened the faith of those who already possessed it, nurtured it, but who were also questioning.  Without questions faith cannot mature. The questions are the odd thing about the miracle narratives.

 

We just heard the apostle’s question in response to the calming of the storm:

“They were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?’” The miracle forced them to perceive Jesus

in a different way and to begin to understand His power. 

 

The question of ‘who is this?’ came from those who were closest to Jesus, who received instruction from Him, those whom we assume had solid faith in him . . .

until they didn’t, until the weaknesses of that faith were revealed. 

 

Miracles are sometimes problems for us as well both when they happen and when they don’t happen.  Do they engender questions, do they enhance faith,

or do they sow the seeds of doubt?

 

Michael Casey, an Australian Trappist monk writes, “Faith has to grapple constantly with the doubts we may experience when we hear the words of the poet Robert Browning, ‘God is in his heaven—all’s right with the world.’ 

 

“Faith means letting go of our ambition to control, understand, or even cope with what happens.  Faith means releasing our anxieties into God’s hands . . .The fact that I cannot comprehend the logic of events means simply that my intellect is limited. “

 

Faith does not mean knowing God’s mind.  Faith does not mean controlling God.

Faith does not mean receiving or even deserving an explanation, to say nothing of a miracle.

 

Faith does not shield us from storms or trauma.  It does not guarantee that life will go smoothly nor does it protect against the pain of loss, illness or death.

 

Faith is an umbrella over all of these, helping us to endure.  Faith allows us to sing with the psalmist:

 

“They rejoiced that they were calmed,
and he brought them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the LORD for his kindness
and his wondrous deeds to the children of men.”

_________________________________________________________

 

A couple of busy weeks approaching.  AM taking a few days off over the weekendn of 12-16 July and won't be posting anything.  At the end of August it will be retreat.  Definitely not posting anything then.  

 

The photos are from Maribor, Slovenia, the second largest city.  I enjoyed the time I was able to spend there  and, of course, wandered with the camera.  Had I been able to return to Slovenia for the long term I would have been happy to be stationed in Maribor.  

 

A cafe near the Jesuit community.

This is enough to encourage me to write a mystery novel so I can use it as the cover.  A car was approaching. 

A good illustration of whimsical.

Would love to sit here with a cup of coffee. 

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

The Tree of Life: Homily for the 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 rule of life that both prescribes and proscribes.  It instructs how we are to treat others and how to respond to God's love.  It is a source of moral teaching.  It is a history of the world.  It is a collection of biographies.  It is, finally, an exquisite form of literature that will never be surpassed. 

 

Both the Old and New Testaments use multiple forms of literary images to transmit the rule of life, the moral instruction, the history, and the biographies in ways that make them indelible and eternal.  Today's readings define and instruct in the simultaneously simple and complex idea of faith using the image of the tree.

 

Think about trees and what they mean to us.  Trees supply shade and give us food.  They are a source of fuel and things of great beauty. The beauty part 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 a symbol of life.  In the reading from Ezekiel God uses the image of a cutting from a cedar to represent the restoration of and care for His people.

 

In the Ancient Near East the cedar exceeded 125 feet in height.  It was a symbol of strength and a sign of God's creation.  It was a place of safety for the birds that took shelter in its branches.  It was a place of refreshment for those who took shelter from the heat under its branches.  It was truly a tree of life.  All from a small shoot.

 

Many of Jesus’ parables turn on the question of faith, how faith is nurtured and how it is strengthened; how it directs, or should direct, our lives.  Jesus also teaches how faith, though given freely and without cost, requires care and attention.  Nurturing our faith as Christians and living according to that faith is the path to the eternal life promised by Jesus' act of self-surrender.  Jesus tells us in both of the short gospel parables that once the seed of faith is planted, it germinates and grows. 

 

In the first parable the seed grew though the farmer could not describe how.  Indeed, he was unaware of the early stages of growth  but maintained faith that it would grow.  With time a small seed buried in the ground lead to the mature plant of ripe grain ready for harvest.

 

The mustard seed of the second parable is tiny. It is only about 1/25th of an inch in size.  When I was in high school the Protestant girls wore small necklaces with crosses or a small globe with a tiny mustard seed suspended in it while the Catholic girls wore either a crucifix or a Miraculous Medal.  Despite its diminutive size, that tiny mustard seed grows into a large bush that, while technically not a tree, can be a dwelling for birds. and a source of shade, as if it were a tree.  Indeed, a mustard tree can be three or more times taller than an adult man. 

 

Just as it takes a long time and favorable conditions, for the mustard seed to grow from 1/25th of an inch into a huge bush, 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,  becomes stronger, and more resilient. It becomes more able to sustain us. 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 a 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. 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 promise to restore the House of David.  A restoration accomplished through Jesus, in his obedience .who by hanging on the tree of life defeated death forever. 

Photos of final vows and ordination. No homily.

Another SJ and I left BC at 10:30 AM Friday with the destination of the BRONX!!!!  We pulled into Fordham University about 5 hours later.  Wretched traffic.  I was the passenger down but split the driving on the way back.  

 A few hours after arriving we attended the final vow Mass for Fr. Patrick Nolan, SJ.  Jesuits pronounce final vows several to many years after ordination.  I hadn't planned on taking my camera but habits are habits and I took the two bodies and two lenses with me.  Thus, I wound up being the official photographer which included standing on pews, walking all over the place, and a few shots with me on the ground . . . . intentionally.  

 

Pat is one of seven.  He is here with his mom who was celebrating her 89th birthday.  All of his siblings were there as well.  She was delighted.  Not easy to round up seven adult kids. 

 

 

 

 

 

Pat preaching.  The homily was most excellent, the parts that I heard.  I can only pay attention to only one thing at a time: camera or homily.  Went with camera.  In general, when I am shooting at a Mass I do not receive communion because I am completely inattentive to what is going on at the altar and not saying the responses. 

Pat with Deacon Chia-yang Kao, SJ.  Chia-yang, whom I've known for 20 years was ordained a priest the following morning.  I was his vesting priest, a significant honor.  It was a delight. 

Unlike most religious orders, Jesuits do not pronounce their vows into "the hands" of the superior at the offertory,  We pronounce final vows during communion, kneeling in front of the elevated Body and Blood of Our Lord,  in imitation of the first Jesuits who did the same. 

The man writes the vow formula in his own hand and then has to read it.  I was close to panic stricken at the prospect.  A left-handed physician reading his own handwriting in public.  Thousands of nurses got their revenge.

Receiving from the cup. 

After the vow Mass the man goes into the sacristy with other Jesuits (only) to pronounce the five 'simple' vows and sign three copies of the documents.

Seventeen years ago today Chia-yang brought the gifts up at my ordination in Boston.

Seventeen years later minus one day I vested Chia-yang for the first time in the stole and chasuble.  His mom took this one as we were in front of his folks.

The reception afterwards.  Now it is Father to Father.

Seventeen years ago on 9 June 2024 Matt Monnig, SJ, Andy Downing, SJ, and I were ordained.  This is just before the end of Mass.  Matt is next to me and Andy is on the end. 

The three of us were at the ordination.  I don't think we've been in shared space in at least seven years.  Arranged in the same order.  Matt made the observation that it has been seventeen years and we are still here. 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

This is My Body: Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ

Mk 14:12-16, 22-26

This solemnity marks seventeen years since my first Mass the day after ordination. That Mass was on the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ

or Corpus Christi on 10 June 2007.  The date for Corpus Christi varies depending on the date of Easter. Today marks the sixteenth time I’ve preached through the lectionary. Tomorrow begins the 17^th journey through the liturgy and readings.

Jesuits are described as contemplatives in action.  Unlike our Trappist or Carthusian brothers who live in monastic cloister and silence, contemplating the word of God, we move around.  A lot.  We contemplate the same word to be sure, but generally while in motion. Jerome Nadal, an early Jesuit, described a Jesuit’s cloister as the highway.  Our work is mobile. That mobility partially drives our prayer life and our prayer life fuels our mobility, which can take us anywhere in the world, sometimes with very little notice.   

By the time I was ordained my mom had given up trying to keep track of addresses and phone numbers. Earlier she would carefully erase the old phone number before putting the new one in her address book.  By the time I was ordained she simply reused an old sticky note, knowing it would have to be replaced in a year or two.

Overall, action seems to trump contemplation most of the time.  A solemnity such as this one, however, reminds us of the contemplative side of our lives.  Not just Jesuit lives.  But all of our lives.  The lives of all believers.  This feast pulls us into meditation  for good reason. 

The Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ is an abstract feast that doesn’t recall an event.  The Church’s liturgical calendar is crammed with feasts— Christmas, Easter, The Ascension, The Annunciation, and the recently celebrated Visitation—that recall specific events in the history of salvation. 

They are specific moments in the history of the world  that include a story that is told and retold.  With just a little bit of effort we can place ourselves in the action

and participate in that history.   We can close our eyes and, through our  imagination, see the events  of those feasts unfold on an inner movie screen. 

On this Feast, however, we have to sit back in silence.  There is no script.  There is no “story line.”  We are forced to be less active for a little bit and more contemplative.  We contemplate the gift of Christ present; truly and substantially in the Eucharist.  It is almost overwhelming to consider that presence in the bread and wine we receive at Mass and adore on the altar. For some the real presence is a stumbling block.  They can understand symbol.  They can understand sign.  They can understand metaphor.  They simply can’t understand real. 

The gospel includes familiar words that you will hear in a few moments during the consecration of the bread and wine. The bread and wine that, from that moment on, are the true presence of the Body and Blood of Our Lord.  The Body and Blood of Christ  are unending sources of nourishment, necessary sustenance for our spiritual lives, and a source of comfort at all times. 

The only thing we can do on this feast is to sit in awe and contemplate the great gift of the Body and Blood of Christ, truly and substantially present in the Eucharist and in our lives.

________________________________

How time flies.  Seventeen years since I preached on this at my first Mass at Campion Center in Weston, MA.  The photos are from Horseneck Beach in Westport, MA down near the Rhode Island line.  A few years ago before some reorganization and covid I went down there occasionally to cover some Masses.  Sometimes I would stay over and go down to Horseneck with the camera.  This particular day was in late-November.  About six people on the large beach, walking or biking.  It was perfect.  

 

 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD