October 9, 2022 at Saint Agnes, St William, & St. Peter Parishes in Naples, FL

2 Kings 5, 14-17 + Psalm 98 + 2 Timothy 2, 8-13 + Luke 17:11-19

We all know this episode from Luke’s Gospel very well. If after the first couple of lines you can’t finish the story, you’ve been sleeping or playing with your phone instead of listening. And, at the risk of causing a fuss with the other priests in the parish who have preached this Gospel today at different hours, I suspect that most folks have gone home thinking this all about gratitude and saying thank you. Well, those of you getting accustomed to me would know that I’m not buying that at all. The Gospel is far too complex to be that simple, and taking the easy way out with this text means you have failed to pay attention to the subtle details. It is what Luke does not say that matters here and can lead us deeper in the message.

Remember that episode when a shepherd leaves the 99 and looks for the lost one? Well, here he is again. Jesus wants to know where are the missing 9? “Where are the others?” he asks. Obviously, they were doing exactly what they were told to do, going to the priest. Now, pay attention. The ten asked for mercy. They did not ask to be cleansed. We have no reason to think they knew who Jesus was. In fact, when he is recognized, the Gospel always tells us that. It does not say that here. They are just crying out for mercy as they probably did all the time. 

There is something unique about this healing. Jesus never touches them and Luke never says that he got near them. Mysteriously, on their way, they were cleansed. In fact, Luke never says that they got to the priest. It seems to me that their healing came from their obedience, not from touch or some word spoken by Jesus. By going to the priest, they were fulfilling what was required by the law. It’s that obedience to the Law that bought them healing. There’s a message as important as gratitude, but that’s not all. There is more.

That Samaritan realized that there was something more going on here, and he went back full of joyful excitement. But Jesus is not excited. He just says, “What about the rest?” I don’t think he was wondering what happened to them. I think it’s a simple statement recognizing that the nine just returned to a normal life while this one realized that his healing was more than physical. He knew he had been saved. Not so the others. How sad. 

He fell at the feet of Jesus. In the original Greek, Luke uses the word, eucharisteo. That’s an important detail that we don’t get in English unfortunately. This is then an act of adoration as much as it is gratitude. He recognized that God was acting through this man. That man realized that there was more here than he had imagined. He did not just get cured of a disease, he was brought to new life, to joy, and to peace, and knew he was in the presence of God. Eucharist!

That man is different from the others. As a Samaritan, he knew very well what it was to be an outcast even before he contracted that disease. Yet, he perceived more than the others. He was not just cured. He was touched to his soul by mercy, and that’s what healed him.

My friends, that’s you and me. We have been touched by mercy. We have come back here to this church to make eucharist which is way more than just saying, “thank you.” It is an act of adoration and an act of incorporation into mercy itself. That one man speaks to us with a message of mercy and its power to heal and restore what is broken in every relationship. Try it. He is a witness to the truth that when we are open and willing to do what Jesus asks, we will receive more than we can imagine. 

October 2, 2022 at Saint Agnes, St William, & St. Peter Parishes in Naples, FL

Habakkuk 1, 2-3, 3, 2-4 + Psalm 95 + 2 Timothy 1,6-8 13-14 + Luke 17:5-10

There is quite a complicated set of images in this Gospel. The disciples beg Jesus to increase their faith, because they have just begun to realize what he expects of them. Then, he calms them down just a little with that mustard seed image suggesting that they need not think the task is really too great for them. Just a little something will get it all started. Then he comes up with that parable to suggest that just because they have done that little bit it will be over and that will be enough. In the words of the parable, “When you have finished in the fields and brought in the sheep, don’t think you’re done. Get to the kitchen and dining room and serve up the dinner.” 

As Jesus speaks to us in here today, he is reminding us that it is easy to be a fake follower of Christ. It’s easy to think that all we have to do is show up for Mass, sing, listen, go to communion, through in an envelope or some lose change, and maybe stay till the closing hymn, and we’re in. We look like good disciples and people going by will see the parking lot and think, “Wow, look at all those good Catholics”. But this gospel says, “No” to that. After you’ve done all those things every weekend, there is more to do because discipleship requires action and conversion and the engagement of mind and heart. It’s what we do because we have been at Mass in communion, listening to God’s Word that makes us real disciples. There is nothing fake about action or service in the name of Christ.

However, herein lies the problem that brings the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees. They are all about action – about keeping the law and the traditions of Israel, but they do that without faith thinking that just doing things is all that is required. Jesus points out on more than one occasion that doing the right without the right interior transformation becomes a parody of righteousness. It’s a joke. It’s a lie. Doing the right thing because you are worried about what someone else might think or say is the wrong thing. The laws and traditions of Israel existed for one reason: to give glory to the God on whom one had set their heart. Without that action of the heart, righteous activity serves only one purpose to glory to the one doing the action.

My friends, discipleship is what we were created for, and the Gospel is our instruction book on how to be what God created us to be. When we choose to follow Jesus Christ, we choose an active life that can feel very new and different, but it isn’t. It is a restoration of the life for which we were originally made.

This Gospel today must both restore our hope and renew our courage to never give up in the face of what is asked of us and what we see is needed all around us. Like the apostles, we might well cry out: “Increase our Faith.” The image of that mustard seed must stay with us trusting that God will bless and multiply our efforts.

We look around and sense the political despair that is everywhere. Because of that despair what happens? People don’t vote, and so unqualified candidates win close elections and legislate poor public policy. But, a one grieving mother loses a child to a drunk driver and starts a national coalition of mother mothers again drunk driving called; “MADD”. A Swedish girl calls for a student strike to protest in action on climate change, and millions of young people support her worldwide. A little lady in Calcutta decides that no one should die alone, and a world-wide community of sisters is born to comfort the dying poor. A young boy out in the wilderness gives up his lunch of two fish and some bread. What happens?  5000 people get fed.

What we have here is summed up in Paul’s letter to Timothy which we just heard: “Stir into flame the gift God gave you” Remember those days when the vision of faith set your heart on fire and understand that glowing embers are still all we need to get the fire burning once again. In the opening prayer I offered in the name of this assembly, I said and I meant, “God, never fail to stir up our faith so that its power become visible in our lives.” Someone planted the seed of faith in every one of our heats. It is yearning to sprout anew in this world. Jesus believe that. So can we.

September 25, 2022 at Saint Agnes, St William, & St. Peter Parishes in Naples, FL

Amos 6, 1, 4-7 + Psalm 146 + 1 Timothy 6,11-16 + Luke 16:19-31

This is a complex and troubling parable. I’ve always been disturbed by that man who even after death thinks that Lazarus should serve him. “Send him to my brothers” he says as though nothing has changed. While some may see his concern for his brothers, I find it troubling that he’s only worried about his own family. Oddly, at this point, the rich man has suddenly learned the name of someone he could not see before. 

In the context of Luke’s Gospel, the closer we get to the end, to Jerusalem, and the culmination of his ministry, Jesus begins to focus on the poor and the demands of discipleship. Watch how that happens in the weeks to come this fall. We heard it last week as Jesus spoke about the use of “mammon”, a term that literally means “more than you need.” We will hear it again.

We have to remember that the rich man of this Gospel was not responsible for the condition of Lazarus. No more than most of us have consciously added to the poverty of migrants, refugees, and people living in tents or their cars. This parable has nothing to do with causes. It has to do with hunger, human dignity, respect and tenderness. Notice that the wealthy man remains anonymous. He is recognized and defined by his possessions not by his relationships. He failed to discover what the clever steward discovered in last week’s Gospel. He failed to discover the potential of his wealth watching it become worthless in the face of death. On the other hand, Lazarus gets a name. He is real. He is recognizable. He is not alone, and he enjoys the company of great ones like Abraham and the angles who see him and do not look the other way.

Parables like this are not comforting bed-time stories. They are told by Jesus to wake us up to a new perspective. The first sign that we are hearing the message is that it makes us uncomfortable. When we allow that to happen, the next step is to ask ourselves what we are to do about it. One certain sign that we have found a good answer is that there are changes for the better, for everyone and especially for the poor. Jesus did not go around giving people guilt trips, but rather he tries to stretch our imaginations and challenge our creativity over how to bring the dream God has for this world into reality. The issue is not that the wealthy are wealthy. The issue is often how the wealthy achieved that wealth and their unconcern for justice on behalf of those in need. 

It is a very observable fact that riches, comforts, and the security those things seem to offer draw one’s attention away from God. How else is it possible that in this rich western world we close churches and have so much room in the pews of those churches that remain open? It is probably not our problem since we are here, but the absence of those others should strengthen our resolve to hold fast to the faith and grow deeper into the mystery of our communion with Christ and each other. 

Caring for the poor and even contributing to their aid takes us a step beyond that rich man’s blindness. But prayers and donations do not free us from being trapped behind our doors, gates, and locks like that other rich man. The divine works within the human condition to free all people from whatever binds them. God’s plan with the Incarnation is that our salvation, our hope, our future comes from one like us, one of us. 

The truth is, our time is more limited than our resources. Jesus speaks to us today with a serious reminder of that. In this parable, everyone dies, the rich and the poor. We have now, both time and resources, but they are limited. We can learn each other’s names. We can learn each other’s stories. We can face the fact that we all hunger more for compassion, mercy, and forgiveness more than for food.

The parable today shows the double side of hunger. Those who hunger will be satisfied. Those who fail to respond to the hunger of others will one day hunger for compassion and then meet that face of indifference. Hunger affects us all.

September 18, 2022 at Saint Agnes, St William, & St. Peter Parishes in Naples, FL

Amos 8, 4-7 + Psalm 113 + 1 Timothy 2,1-8 + Luke 16: 1-13

In preserving this parable for us, Luke proposes a new creative management strategy that seems a little “off” until you sit with it for a while. The steward and his boss both know that the debts owed to them would probably never be paid in full. Droughts, floods, plagues were all too normal catastrophes that ruined a sharecropper’s chances of getting out of debt. There might be enough to pay the boss, but the left-over for the one in debt would be minimal. The steward is very clever and Jesus recognized this immediately.

The steward is a financial genius. He offers a big discount in return for immediate payment. The genius is that the discount is within the means of the debtors. The result is everybody wins even though there might be some question about the ethics. The advice of Jesus at the end speaks of the word “mammon”. It is term unfamiliar to anyone not a scholar of scriptural languages. It means “surplus”, or more than one needs to live decently. A few lines late Jesus warns that none of us can serve both God and mammon suggesting that mammon has questionable value in itself, but can and should be use to do some good.

The people who heard this parable from the mouth of Jesus would have laughed at the situation. It is comical, but jokes in one language rarely seem funny in another language and usually leave people waiting for the punch line. That’s what happens with this comical parable. The corrupt steward is no fool. He knows that generosity is always appreciated and most often brings even more generosity in return. That is the punch-line or the purpose of this joke. If scoundrels recognize the value of generosity and forgiveness, then those who are would-be-disciples of Jesus ought to recognize their value all the more.

There is a very practical and ethical side to this parable worth a lot of thought in this world today. Imagine listening to this story from another culture. Let’s say we are sitting around sharing scriptural reflections with impoverished people in the Southern Hemisphere. Those people would be thinking, “That foxy guy really knew how to do it. The owner was never going to collect all those debts. How did he get so rich anyway? Giving the little guy a break is only fair” they would probably say.

Giving the little guy a break might just be what Jesus thinks we as his disciple should be about. There is ho doubt that there is plenty of mammon around, or none of us would be floating down the Saint Lawrence River in this luxury. Jesus did not tell parables like comforting bed-time stories. Parables should wake us up to a new perspective. The first sign that we are heating the message is that it makes us uncomfortable. When we allow that to happen, the next step is to ask ourselves what we are to do about it. One certain sign that we have found a good answer is that there are changes for the better, for everyone, and especially for the poor. It only makes sense that when things are better for the poor, they are better for us all, and that’s the way this story goes: the owner gets something, the steward gets something, and the  workers get something. Sounds like a good plan, says Jesus.

September 11, 2022 On Board the MS Zaandam

 Exodus 32:7-14 + Psalm 51 + 1 Timothy 1:12-17 + Luke 15:1-32

With our first day on this ship and a wonderful week ahead of us, we are gifted with a very familiar Gospel that in some ways could set a theme or a give some focus to the time we spend onboard together. My own hope is that your presence here today and perhaps during the week will be a real-time proclamation of this Gospel and it’s three parables all of which have a common element that might not be obvious from just reading the text. In each one of these parables, there is a party, a dinner, a joyful celebration, and that is Luke’s concern for us.

Often the third parable is mis-named as the Parable of the Prodigal Son when in fact, all three of the characters are prodigal if we understand that the word means extravagant. The younger son is prodigal in his use of the inheritance. The father is prodigal in his willingness to give the inheritance away before he dies as well as the way he spends his time waiting. The older son is prodigal as well as he lists how faithfully and dutifully he has fulfilled his obligations. This is not about their extravagance. It is about God’s extravagance revealed in the behavior of the father who wants both of those crazy kids to come to the banquet.

Ultimately, that father, that shepherd, and that woman reveal something to us about God which is exactly what the life and the word of Jesus Christ still does. Which of course, is all very well and good, unless it’s all about someone else. Luke preserved these parables for us, and because the church proclaims them today, there is more. The revelation is not finished, and there might yet be a fourth parable to add to these three in which case, you and I take our place among a shepherd, a woman, a father and a family. When you get right down to it, that just about includes us all, women, men, parents, and priest.

In the context of Luke’s Gospel now at the fifteenth chapter, Jesus is being watched and criticized for hanging out with the wrong crowd and even eating with delinquents. In response, Jesus does not criticize anybody. He takes up one of Israel’s favorite images, a Shepherd. The trouble is, this shepherd is prodigal. Obviously though, this irrational shepherd and a zealous housekeeper represent God. Luke sums it all up with a family story that is the story of God’s family. Some of us in this family are not so faithful to our duties, and want to take without giving. Some of us think that being “good” means doing what we’re supposed to do while silently judging others and refusing to join in the fun when someone who does not deserve a party gets one.

There’s a lot to think about through this week, and a reminder comes from Luke that revelation continues on this ship as it takes us out of our routine and normal lives. There are people out there wandering around this ship who are not in here. I can tell you from experience after serving on more than 20 cruises that before I get back to Boston in fourteen days, I will have heard people say: “Ah, Father, I was raised a Catholic” more times and I want to count. I always respond by saying: “I don’t like the past tense. Why is that?” 

There is a chance that because you have been here today, one of those people will come home to the banquet that is already prepared because of your witness, your kindness, your patience nurtured on the Bread of Life. Those of us who dare to say: “Amen” and stretch out our hands in communion receive not just the Body of Christ, but a mandate to be what he is and always has been, a revelation of the Father’s love.

September 4, 2022 at St Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

 Wisdom 9, 13-18 + Psalm 90 + Philemon 9, 10, 12-17+ Luke 14, 25-33

Not just the crowds, but Jesus’ closest disciples do not seem to understand the radical nature of his mission or the total cost of it. They only see the glory of victory after their experience of Jesus’ powerful campaign of miracles and preaching and his rising popularity as they approach Jerusalem on the eve of Passover. His repeated predictions of suffering and rejection fall on deaf ears in the din of the welcoming crowds and swirling rumors of a messianic breakthrough.

The truth is that few of us just like those earliest disciples fail to grasp the radical nature of following Jesus. We are much like those disciples who had to go through a series of baptisms before they realized the cost of imitating him, dying with him in order to rise with him, and I mean “a series of baptisms.” That Baptism of Fire Jesus speaks of is something other than a ritual ceremony. It is the day in and day out perseverance in face of every temptation and failure accepted with patience and embraced without complaint. That “baptism of fire” is suffering sometimes emotional, sometimes physical, and sometimes spiritual.  What eventually got those first disciple through their “baptism of fire” was their willingness to say “yes” and not waver in their faith and commitment to the one whose ultimate “baptism of fire” gave them hope for the future and the resurrection. It can be no different for us. Like them, we can only continue to say “yes” to the small, daily invitations to die to ourselves for the sake of others, to listen for the voice of Jesus in our own circumstances to hear his instructions for us.

Our personal transformation in Christ and the fulfillment of our baptismal journey is not a program of self-improvement but a surrender to God’s will as it is uniquely revealed to us one step at a time. Losing ourselves to find ourselves is more than a metaphor. That dark moment when we stop living for ourselves will be unmistakable. God loves us so much that every false self we cling to will be taken from us to prepare us for the gift of Gods image in us, our true self.  We rejoice that God will accomplish this in each of us.

By emphasizing the phrase “his own life,” Luke highlights what we might today call ego. The things Jesus demands his disciples leave behind are indicators of importance, like family connections, social status and possessions. Striving after these is a temptation in every age, but something in Luke’s own journey of discipleship convinced him that a life built on them was utterly empty.

Discipleship requires the absolute renunciation of one’s ego. The measure of far we have come with that renunciation can be seen in the accumulation of possessions. Is there anything we can’t give away or do without? It can be seen in striving after status and recognition. Again, the measure of how far we have come is seen in how much we expect to be thanked and recognized for doing the simplest of things. Searching for purpose in “riches, honor and pride,” as St. Ignatius put it, might satisfy briefly, but the inevitable reality of death makes these efforts futile. Most of our ego monuments vanish with our last breath. Only a life spent pursuing God’s dream, after the example of Christ, will give a human life eternal consequence, and we know very well what God’s dream for us and all creation really looks like. One look at Jesus Christ, and we can’t get it wrong. 

Christ issues this same challenge today. A life primarily spent crafting an ego cannot support the demands of discipleship. A life of trust in the Spirit, on the other hand, reflects Jesus’ own fulfillment of God’s dream. Just as Jesus renounced everything and so saved the human race, disciples who fulfill God’s dreams in their own lives will draw others to the same saving power.

In one of my favorite books, “Happy Are You Poor,” Fr. Thomas Dubay writes: “If we wonder why, despite the millions of us who follow Christ, the world has not long ago been converted, we need not look far for one solution. We are not perceived as men on fire. We look too much like everyone else. We appear to be compromisers, people who say they believe in everlasting life but actually live as though this life is the only one we have.”

The challenge for myself then is to look at my life with Gospel eyes and see what in my heart still belongs to this world, what in my heart seeks to run from suffering and daily crosses, and what in my heart I haven’t fully given to Christ. Then, make a plan, renounce it all, and live radically for Christ.

August 28, 2022 Vacation time – this homily was prepared for this site.

 Sirach 3, 17-18, 20, 28-29 + Psalm 68 + Hebrews 12, 18-19, 22-24+ Luke 14, 1 7-14

I am frustrated with what the church gives us today for this Gospel. What frustrates me is the way some committee decided to do some “cut and paste” with these verses. Notice that six verses missing, clipped out for whatever reason, leaving us with a parable from the lips of Jesus without the reason Jesus had for telling it. 

In those missing verses, a man has slipped into the banquet who is suffering from what our translators call: “Dropsy.” Whatever that means is beside the point. It’s not good, and his presence there had to put everyone on edge. He would have been considered “unclean”, and his presence in the midst of people who would have scrubbed up to get in there created a very uncomfortable situation. To make matters more complicated, Luke tells us that this is Sabbath day imposing a lot of restrictions.

In the missing verses, Jesus asks several questions of those present about what to do for this man, and Luke tells us that everyone was silent. Their silence is part of the message here because, they know the answer, they know what they should do, and they do nothing and say nothing because they know very well that the law they pretend to obey does permit the saving of a life on the sabbath. All of this leads up to Jesus then using this parable to teach us something about a virtue required of every disciple.

For us there is something even more going on here than just a lesson on humility. Put into a larger context of this chapter, there is something being revealed here by the setting as much as by the wording. In Luke’s Gospel, meals are often the occasion for a revelation, and the meals always have a eucharistic overtone. We have to listen to this story using the image of the eucharist as the setting.  Eating with Jesus should always be a time of healing, and as he said once very clearly, it is the sick who need the physician. That man who must have barged his way into that banquet is the very one who most needed to be there, but you can bet that there was no place reserved for someone suffering from “dropsy.”

Through this incident, Jesus has the occasion to reject the whole idea of reciprocity, as well as that custom of inviting people of equal status.

So, if we put back the six missing verses, we have a question raised by the fact that those guests are silent in response to the question Jesus raises. Why are they silent? They know the law because they are watching to see if Jesus will break the law. This incident speaks to many these days who are silent, who know what the law of God requires and remain silent and do nothing when something is required. This incident also continues a theme that has been developing over the past weeks: Who belongs at the heavenly banquet. As the chapter continues, the answer emerges: the humble. It is not humble to keep silent.

In thinking about and measuring my own humility, I often remember something said to me long ago during my seminary formation years. A wise instructor reminded us that the virtue of humility is not thinking that we are nothing special or of no value. Real humility requires gratitude to God for making us all unique and using our unique gifts for the glory of God, not denying or hiding them. Humility is never thinking less of yourself. It is thinking of yourself less and thinking of God more.

August 21, 2022 at Saint Peter the Apostle Catholic Church in Naples, FL

 Isaiah 66, 18-21 + Psalm 117 + Hebrews 12, 5-7, 11-13+ Luke 13, 22-30

There is an undeniable and an unmistakable image of the Kingdom of God being put before us by Saint Luke today as Jesus speaks to us in a very direct way. The whole idea of locking people out of the heavenly banquet is strange and ought to make us uncomfortable because we will have to begin to think about whether or not we are in or we are out.

For you and me, there is a special danger that comes with thinking that we’re in, or we should be in, or deserve to be in because we’re here right now, because we go to Mass, listen to the Gospel, and do this and that because that’s what we ought to do. That’s risky thinking.

Jesus, who knows well the teaching of the prophets like Isaiah whose words we heard moments ago makes it very clear that those who find a place at the heavenly banquet will not necessarily be those we expect or even want to find there. Getting that point puts us in a questionable spot. Are we in or are we out will always be the question. It’s not are they in or out, but am I in or out. 

You see, it is not going to be a matter of coming to Mass and all that this implies. For in the Gospel there are plenty of stories told about those who ate and drank with Jesus and never made his values their own. They just wanted to be seen with someone famous. There was that guy who invited Jesus to dinner and never washed the feet of his divine guest. In contrast, to make the point more clear, remember how Jesus invited himself to the home of Matthew the Tax Collector and to Nicodemus? In those moments, there came about a powerful and personal conversion and acceptance of what Jesus stood for. So, who’s in? The first guy who just wanted to be seen with the famous man from Nazareth, or the unlikely and unwanted people looked down upon by the synagogue elite?

What become clear is that God loves diversity. It is impossible to glimpse the glory of God without embracing and appreciating the variety of people, cultures and creatures that fill the universe of God’s creation. Which, by way of an aside, is what is so very wrong about causing or allowing an entire species of God’s creation to go extinct because of our greed or carelessness with God’s creation on this precious and fragile earth. If we don’t get our act together and pay attention to the consequences of many things, there will be no divine diversity, and that may not sit well with the Creator of it all.

To anyone who might even think of limiting the guest list at the heavenly banquet and to anyone who might be concerned about whether or not they are on the list, Jesus speaks with unusual clarity, and Luke passes that on to us with the grammar and sentence structure of this story. Jesus says: “YOU”. “I do not know where YOU are from.” He goes on in the same way of speaking when he says: “You yourselves will be cast out.” He is speaking to you and me.

Who is that “you”? It is those who want to limit the guest list. It is those who claim some privilege and think that they “deserve” something from the master. The real ones privileged are those who are today the least privileged. Ultimately, the guest list is restricted to those who do not want it limited – those who welcome everyone – those who are anxious and ready to be surprised and delighted by who they may sitting next to – someone totally unexpected and maybe undeserving by our poor judgement.

It might be just as well that those who want access limited to the right people would be just as unhappy inside when they find out who else is there as they would be on the outside. In that case, why would God let them ruin the party? Go ahead and lock the doors!

August 14, 2022 at Saint William Catholic Church in Naples, FL

Jeremiah 38, 4-6, 8-10 + Psalm 40 + Hebrews 12, 1-4 + Luke 12, 49-53

I have always liked these Gospel verses most of which are only given to us in Luke’s Gospel. I like them because they expose the shallow silliness so often suggested to us by cheap art that makes Jesus look like a nice, long-haired sissy. If these verses make anyone uncomfortable with their image or relationship with Jesus, it’s time to deal with it.

In the various ways I have served the church in the past, I have come into contact with priests and lay leaders of the church who for various reasons have become ineffective. They have turned into robots who just go through the motions required, fleeing at the first sign of conflict, and avoiding the consequences of their avoidance or inactivity. We know this condition and call it “burn out.” I’ve often thought it was better to burn up than burn out, better to burn up than rust out. Jesus was not suffering from burn out, and neither can any of his disciples.

The conflict he speaks of, and the conflict he experiences is basically the conflict that inevitably comes from denial – the denial of truth. We all know how hard it is sometimes to hear, recognize, and accept the truth; the truth about ourselves, the truth about our behavior, and the truth about the consequences of that behavior. The conflict that Jesus experienced and the conflict he predicts comes from one thing: the truth.

Jesus was a truth teller, and many people in power, many people who have grown comfortable in their privileged ways, many people trapped in attitudes, ways of thinking about themselves and the world get upset when the truth comes along and their denials no longer work.

That old saying: “The Truth will set you free” is right on target, because people who live the truth about themselves are very free, and there is nothing more free than the “Truth Tellers” of this world. With nothing to lose and nothing gain, those who are really free know who they are and who they are not. They know what they are and what they are not, and there is no hint of denial in them at all. In a sense, these people are real prophets, and prophets are not obsolete or just historical figures out of the past.

We live in a new age of prophets and truth tellers who do way more than just inspire us. They teach us and invite us to step more deeply and more freely into the truth. In our own life time, prophets who tell the truth get silenced like Jeremiah who was thrown into a cistern to silence him. Martin Luther King who told the truth about justice was silence by a bullet. In this year, Mexican priests who had thrown in their lot with a poor man seeking asylum from the drug mafia were silenced first by kidnapping and then by death. A priest from my own home Diocese was murdered by the Army of Guatemala after he publicly asked them: “If you are here to protect us, why are my people disappearing. That did not happen before you came.” 

There is another way to look and listen to the images of today’s Gospel. It might suggest that instead of that destructive fire Jesus came to light, it might be a desire to fire us up, light us up, warm us up to get up, speak up, and even act up for the sake of truth always after we have faced the truth in ourselves. Those who live in denial of any truth, but especially the truth of the Gospel, the truth of Jesus Christ, and the truth about our faith and what it demands of us will, like those who ignored and opposed Jesus Christ, find the fire he brings destructive. However, those of us who embrace the truth about ourselves, our sin, our need, and our hopes will be filled with joy, on fire with the love of God with our eyes fixed on a Jesus who was anything but a long-haired sissy enduring the cross so that we may not grow weary and lose heart in our struggle to live in the light of the truth.

August 7, 2022 at Saint Agnes and Saint Peter Churches in Naples, FL

Wisdom 18, 6-9 + Psalm 33 + Hebrews 11, 1-2 & 8-19 + Luke 12, 32-48

Did we just hear warnings, commandments, or suggestions? I counted eight: Don’t be afraid, put on your shoes, sell your stuff, give to those in need, put your coat on, turn on the porch light, stay by the door, and shut the windows. That’s my take on these verses, and it might just be that the last seven are instructions on how to have no fear. 

Whatever. The sacred scriptures today give us plenty to think about when it comes to faith, and if taken seriously, these readings ought to give us every reason to take a good new look at this matter of faith because too many people think that faith is a noun, not a person, not a place, but a thing. NOT, says the Word of God. It’s a verb. Faith is not something you have or believe in. It is action. It is practice. It is the movement of our lives. It is what pulls out of our seats as passive or curious spectators changing us into participants. That’s what a faithful person is: person of action, a person who lives, a person who serves, a person who gives, a person who works for the coming of the Kingdom.

People of faith are on the move. They are not stuck in their ways or stuck with their opinions. They are always changing because they are alive and growing. That’s what’s going on between Jesus and his disciples in these verses today. They have been stuck with their old ideas about a Messiah. Here come Jesus, and he awakens their faith and they start to move toward Jerusalem. Remember, Jerusalem in Luke’s Gospel is not just city. It must always make us think of the New Jerusalem, Heaven.

“Don’t be afraid” is what he says to them and to us. Don’t be afraid to let go of those things, places, and attitudes that have been our refuge, our hiding places, or those old things that have given us security and made us feel right. We are a people invited into the future, and we can only get there by leaving our fears, our pessimisms, and like the disciples, maybe leaving behind our old ideas about God. That old idea instilled in too many of us too long ago that God is watching us. Remember hearing that? It’s an image of a God who is lurking in the shadows just waiting to catch us at something and punish us. That was the God the disciples had to leave. The God of the rule book. The God of wrath and anger. The God Jesus revealed as Father is watching all right, but he is watching over us, and that is something new. 

We are told that the Israelites ate the Passover meal standing up with their shoes on ready to go. They ate that unleavened bread because they didn’t want to wait for it to rise. We might do well to remember that here. Instead of sitting near the doors ready to grab communion and bolt out those doors in order to get out of the parking lot and go home, we might capture some of that readiness to get out of here alright, but not to go home, not to go back to the same old comforts and the same old ways of thinking and acting, but anxious to get out into this city, this neighborhood and do something because faith will not let us just sit back and watch. Faith will pull us forward, stretch our limits, challenge our old ways of thinking, and lead us to take a risk or two without fear of what someone will think or say, or how they will look at us if we make the sign of the cross.

This place is our launching pad. It’s where we get fueled up and prepped for the journey. It’s where our vision of the future gets focused. We can’t come here to be soothed and sing sweet lullabies. We come here to catch fire, to be singed by the Holy Spirit, and pour out of here with the message of God’s presence, the assurance that someone is watching over us, and that there is a future filled with joyful peace, and a place where everyone will feel at home no matter what they may have done in the past. That is what faith looks like, and it is what faithful people can accomplish. The hungry are be fed. The thirsty have full cup. The naked are clothed. The homeless have a roof not a car. Those who are alone will find one of us at their side.