29 May 2022 at Saint William Catholic Church in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 1, 1-11 + Psalm 47 + Ephesians 1, 17-23 + Luke 24, 46-53

Years ago, I was pastor of a parish with a parochial school. In those days we celebrated this feast on Thursday, and so we had a School Mass. I was younger then, and I will describe that young pastor by saying he didn’t know much. One of the lessons he learned was, do not use rhetorical questions. You may be sorry you did. That inexperienced pastor brought an empty box all nicely wrapped and asked the children what they thought was in it. Hands shot everywhere suggesting that it was holy cards, rosaries, or pictures of Jesus. There was a second grader turning red in the face with intensity shouting: Father! Father! Father! I gave him the microphone and he said: “It’s a Jack-in-the-Box”. To this day I have no idea what I said after that, but I do know that it was the end of asking children questions in public and my use of gimmicks to entertain them.

This day on which the church leads us to focus on the absence of Jesus Christ and the experience of the Apostles at his departure brings home something I have said many times from this ambo. There is always a question for us to ask when the Scriptures put before us an extraordinary event; like a cure, Jesus walking water, Noah building a big boat, or Moses talking to a burning bush. The question is not, “How did he do that?”. The question is “What does it mean?”

What does this experience of the Apostles mean is what matters, not where did he go or how did he do that? Staying with the text and paying attention to what follows gives us some clue. Those apostles experienced the physical departure of Christ. They must have then accepted that Christ, had done all that he intended to do. At the moment, it may not have seen like much had been accomplished. The world was just about the same as when he came. Maybe, it was even a little worse for those who followed him. They were afraid.

What was different? It was those people who had listened and followed him. Look at the difference Luke describes in the last verse when he tells us that they returned to Jerusalem with great joy and were in the Temple praising God. All the fear, the doubts, the sadness are gone.

When Matthew, Mark, and John present the time after the Resurrection, it is all compressed into one day. Only Luke stretches out a time between Easter and Pentecost. All those stories about visits of Jesus in an upper room, a trip to Emmaus, or miraculous catches of fish show us the gradual change that came over those who followed Jesus, and how they came to realize not just what had happened to them, but what they had become.

As a church, as followers of Jesus, we have just finished those forty days, and next comes Pentecost. One more time we are called to ask what have we become since the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus has been proclaimed among us. One thing is certain. Jesus has done all he came to do, and his earthly presence is no more. 

If the promises of a new heaven and new earth are going to be fulfilled, it is not going to be by some blaze of glory or earth-shattering display of power, but rather by the slow, patient, long exercise of faithfulness, endurance, sacrifice, and love. It is found in the constant desire to do the will of God. The renewal of this earth is found in forgiveness, mercy, and the use of those gifts we shall celebrate next weekend. My friends, the Ascension is more about us than it is about what happened to Jesus and where he went. The presence of Christ is experienced by those who know to look for him within themselves. Christ did not move out of the lives of people. He has moved into those lives so that the virtues of ordinary human beings become Divine instruments with which God’s work in the world can be done.

22 May 2022 at St Peter, St Agnes, and St William Catholic Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 15, 1-2 & 22-29 + Psalm 67 + Revelation 21, 10-14 & 22-23 + John 14, 23-29

If you have been following the First Reading for the past several weeks, you might well have been left on edge last week when Paul returns to Antioch and reports how “he had opened the door of faith to the Gentiles.” If this were being reported on “WINK NEWS”, another voice would then say: “Stay tuned, details at six.” This is one of those “OhOh!” moments when you know trouble is coming.

Antioch after the destruction of Jerusalem was the place where things were happening. There were many Jews there some of whom had fled from the Roman destruction. There were also many Greeks there as well as Assyrians. It was a powerhouse of trade, commerce, and economy. That Jewish community was frantic to preserve their identity, customs, and traditions, especially after the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple. It is not hard to imagine how they heard this news. They must also have known that Paul and his companion had been run out of town in other places for just such a comment.

On the surface, the issue was circumcision, that physical and religious custom that verified and confirmed one’s place among the chosen people. Paul replaced circumcision with baptism making women and gentiles as legitimate as any Jew. In their thinking; what happens to the Sabbath? What happens to the centrality of Jerusalem? What happens to the accepted scriptures and the moral traditions based upon them? In other words, does one have to be a religious Jew in order to be a Christian? With that, we can read clearly that things blew up, and the Greek community sent Paul to meet with Peter and James and the leaders of other communities to work it out. 

I’m always amused by the way Luke describes that meeting. It’s almost as though he is embarrassed by the intensity of it all when he tells us: “No little dissension and debate took place.” We know what that means. They really got at it! He does not tell us how long it went on maybe a week or two, maybe more; but he does tell us what they did and how they worked; and the evidence of their success is our assembly today. If it had not gone as it did, Christianity would simply been a small sect of Judaism, closed to the world, centered on Jerusalem. Perhaps Western Civilization as we know it might never have happened.

This fifteenth chapter of Acts has never been more important to us than it is today. I like to think that if everyone had paid more attention to it there might never have been a Protestant reformation. If everyone had paid more attention to it, there might never have been an Orthodox-Roman Catholic split.

If we wake up and pay attention, we seem to be approaching a crises like they faced in Antioch once again. Funny how history repeats it’s self when no one looks back to learn the lessons history can teach. There is news these days of the Methodist Church splitting apart, and they are not the only ones. We ought not think we will escape this tragedy. The so-called “culture warriors” and their opponents are ready to expel one another. Serious issues that define and establish our identity are everywhere: abortion, LGBTQ issues, divorce, remarriage, our response to violence, gun control, racism, and immigration are testing not just our nation, but our church as well. Our identity, our mission, and our future are being tested. Looking the other way will not do.

Those people, that Church in Antioch survived, and we can learn from them. What they teach us is the wisdom of patience, of listening with respect rather than judgement, the wisdom of prayer to the Holy Spirit, and in the end, a willingness to change. Would that our civic leadership could learn as well seems like a distant hope right now! However, our immediate issue is our Church. Contrary to the culture in which we live, it is never a matter of winning or losing, because if anyone loses, we are all losers. What they came to understand by the Holy Spirit was that God’s dwelling place is not the Temple, but, as Revelation proclaimed last week, the human race. This church is God’s dwelling, not because of that Tabernacle, but because we are here. That Tabernacle has something within it because we have been here. Listening, reading, trusting Act of the Apostles Chapter 15 can ensure that the door of faith remains open. It might not just be open for others, but give us hope that it is open for us.

15 May 2022 at Saint William, Saint Peter, and Saint Agnes Catholic Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 14, 21-27 + Psalm 145 + Revelation 21, 1-5 + John 13, 31-35

 A new heaven and a new earth. No more tears, sadness, and no more death is what we are promised, and five weeks after Easter, we might be ready to ask how we get there. How do we get there in a world that drugs us into splendid contentment continually entertained with sports and comedy or an entertainment industry that keeps alive a fairytale world in which we face danger for 42 minutes and then live happily ever after? 

We live in a world of security with some measure of health care, security cameras, good locks and gates, metal detectors and insurance for everything from our car to our pets. We protect gun rights and carry on with what can only be called irony with an odd combination of the freedom to refuse vaccinations while being required to wear seat belts. Again, the question remains, how do we get to that new heaven and new earth, and when is it coming?

All the texts of our Sacred Scriptures address that question today, and Jesus speaks to those who listen. 

Paul and Barnabas tell us that we have persevere and we have to persevere in change. Telling the Jewish communities that they had to open the door to Gentiles meant they were going to have to make some changes, big ones. They would have to change how they looked at themselves, and what they thought of others who were different. It is the age-old question of the haves and have-nots, the question of the privileged and those “others” It is the need to question the difference between what we want and what we need.

The Book of Revelation with its comforting vision of God’s “new heaven and new earth” tempts us to skip over what it takes to get there. A loud voice from the throne tells us that God’s dwelling is with the human race. Yet, one look at the human race beyond the luxury of our boarders and gates must make us wonder where is that new heaven and new earth because we’re not there yet.

What we have proclaimed for the past five weeks is that the Resurrection of Jesus Christ is not some once-and-for-all event, but rather a cosmic reversal of everything that is usual into things that are exciting, surprising, and unexpected. However, like the apostles who did not understand what it meant to rise from the dead after three days, we have not yet grasped what it means for us. No sooner is Easter over than some pack up and head north, while the rest of us hunker down for another hurricane season. That is not the way we get to the new heaven and new earth, and hopelessness and an attitude that says: “That’s just the way it’s always been” is exactly what Revelation wants to prevent. It is not that we mope around dwelling on the worst, but that like Jesus, we confront the powers of evil.

The Gospel today gives us a plan. It is the Last Supper. Judas has gone to stir up the power of evil with his vicious mission, and Jesus begins to tell us how to best bring about the new creation. He speaks of his glory, a glory revealed in the cross. The cross is the essence of life. In a war, it’s not the ones who come back who are memorialized, but those who do not. In medicine, it’s not the ones who make money, but those who sacrifice to find cures and ease people’s pain who are admired and remembered. It is with great tenderness that Jesus speaks to us once more from the table revealing how we shall discover that new heaven and new earth, by loving as he has loved, not as the world loves always expecting something in return. We cannot ever say that we love God while any of God’s creation is excluded from our love.

At this table, we become family where the struggles of one become the struggles of all and together we confront the evil that causes so much suffering. It is through the hope and pain of solidarity that we know what it means for God to wipe away every tear that flows from our eyes and the eyes of others. As Paul said: everything will pass but one thing will endure.

8 May 2022 at Saint William Catholic Church in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 13, 14, 43-52 + Psalm 100 + Revelation 7, 9, 14-17 + John 10, 27-30

A sheepherder once said that “Sheep are born looking for a way to die.” They go into gullies, get tangled up in brambles, fall into ditches, and wander into the territory of predators. They are utterly defenseless. Even dogs and cats can find their way home, and dogs and cats can defend themselves against danger or run from something bigger. Not so with sheep. You feed a dog, pet it, take it for walks, and the dog thinks: “Wow, this must be a god.” With a cat, feed it, care for it, and the cat thinks: “Wow, I must be god.” It is neither that way for sheep.

Sometimes when the Gospel speaks of sheep and shepherds, the emphasis is on the Shepherd. In this case, the emphasis is on the sheep. Rather than reveal something about the Shepherd, it speaks about us as the sheep, and our need to hear the voice of the Shepherd. It is a voice that speaks to the depths of our hearts, a voice that always calls us to metanoia, that powerful Greek word that means conversion, change which is a life-long effort to be renewed, converted, and different from the way we might like to be.

It is the comfortable, self-assured Hebrew people that were such a challenge and disappointment to Paul when he shares is feelings with the people of Rome. That minority of Jews in the Roman culture was steadfastly faithful to their old ways which were being challenged by the message of the Gospel Paul preached to them. The message of Paul is no different today. Openness to the new is what he asked of them and still asks of us.

Metanoia always begins with confusion, that uncomfortable feeling that my truth may not be completely right. For those who rejected Paul it was just easier to reject what was new rather than discern whether it was of God. Our Holy Father has suggested that sometimes in order to hear what the Lord asks of us we must free ourselves from false certainties. Growth, change, metanoia is always difficult, but it is a necessary part of life, and an essential feature of faith. We never stop growing deeper into our faith, and God is never finished with us. Refusing change risks closing our ears to the voice of the Shepherd.

We are reminded this week by the Word of God that following the Good Shepherd is often neither easy nor clear. The history of Israel and the history of the Church that is ever changing and ever new reminds us that God continually calls us to newness. We must be willing to let go of things we sometimes feel certain and “right” about if we want to hear the voice of the Shepherd today. 

There is one thing we can be sure of. The Shepherd is always trying to lead us beyond where we are into greater, broader, deeper love, and that will often be unruly, confusing, and new. 

1 May 2022 at Saint William & Saint Peter Catholic Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 5, 27-32 + Psalm 30 + Revelation 5, 11-14 + John 21, 1-19

Two charcoal fires burn in John’s Gospel. The first warms Peter in the courtyard of the High Priest when as predicted, Peter denies his master three times. Today another charcoal fire burns, and Jesus invites Peter to atone for his cowardice by confessing his love three times. Each time Peter is asked to show that love by service: “Feed my lambs.” Then as before Jesus predicts something about Peter saying that this service may take him where he does not want to go. Taking a stand for the unborn, the homeless, the voiceless, the hungry, the harassed, and the condemned will sometimes take us where we might not want to go. The social justice of the Church rooted in the Gospel leads us all where we might not want to go. But, that is where those who love God are most often found.

The symbolism of John’s style almost explodes with the verses we proclaim today. As always, it is God who speaks when this Gospel is proclaimed here speaking of loving service, speaking about us, the Church, symbolized by that unbroken net which can hold everyone and not be broken. It’s a net that will hold sinners and saints, black, brown, yellow, and white, regardless of their sexuality, gender, language, or political preferences. That number, 153 in John’s Gospel, says it all.

Yet, that is not the only number in this Gospel giving us something to ponder. There are 7 in that boat, and he names six leaving us to ask if we might be the unnamed who completes the “perfect number, seven.” We are here about to be fed on what is blessed, broken, and given. We are, like Peter, slow to get it right, slow in running to that empty tomb, slow to put aside the fears that sometimes keep us locked up, silent, and ashamed. Yet, we are here, in the daylight recognizing that in the dark, at night, without the light of Christ, we can do nothing. 

The risen one asks us all: “Do you love me?” And now he waits for us to show it. 

24 April 2022 at Saint William Catholic Church in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 5, 12-16 + Psalm 118 + Revelation 1,9-11, 12-13, 17-19 + John 20, 19-31

The disciples encountered a transformed, divine Being, not a resuscitated corpse. They recognized their friend and teacher, Jesus of Nazareth, but he was now their Lord in glory. That is what this Gospel reveals to us about those gathered in that room. They are not fact checking the story of those women who went to the empty tomb. There is a life-changing experience going on here. Doubt and Fear are giving way to Faith and Hope. How that happens is what John is describing in these verses.

For Thomas, faith did not come easily. Yet because of his relationship with those other disciples and because of their relationship with Jesus, he could move deeply into the mystery only believers can understand. He wanted to “see” with human eyes, and when he did, his mind and heart saw the glory of God moving him to proclaim what had been so hard to see before the crucifixion and death. Suddenly, at that moment, Thomas realized that the effects of evil, horrible as they were, were not the greatest power, because love and forgiveness are.

For Jesus, the mission was not quite complete. There was more to do than conquer death. He had to draw them from doubt and fear to faith and hope. The one Thomas wanted to touch ended up touching Thomas with that divine love and mercy he had spoken of again and again. Jesus could now finish his work. He breathed on them, and with that act, they came to life recreated and restored. It is, once again, the very moment of creation when God breaths forth life. Now they are truly friends with God just as God intended. 

The Word of God, the Son of God stands before them and says: “Shalom”. It is a word that has no English equivalent. It describes wholeness. For the ancient ones, it described the mending of a net. It has to do with putting together what is broken. When Jesus spoke, that word is was not a wish, but an announcement that he was there in their midst, and their relationship with him was not broken by death. This peace is not something we can produce for ourselves. It is something given and proclaimed by God in Christ. It is a wholeness. It is unity. 

Peace with God comes first. Without it, there can be no peace among us. For believers, it is the total restoration of the relationship broken by sin. It comes with forgiveness, and that power of forgiveness is released through that breath. Forgiveness of sin is the primary work of God’s Spirit. We who have received the Spirit have found Peace with God and carry on his mission of forgiveness which was the driving force in Jesus Christ. It was his mission, forgiveness. This is what brings people into union with God and one another. It generates the peace that Jesus proclaimed.

This then is the purpose of life for believers, forgiveness. In that act of forgiveness, we experience the mercy of God and share that Divine Mercy with all who live in brokenness, loneliness, and misery. Thomas helps us to understand today that faith is a living relationship with Jesus. Life in Christ is not a program to master or perfect, but an endless mystery that will guide us through this life into an eternity of discovery and joy.

17 April 2022 at Saint Peter the Apostle and Saint Agnes Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 10, 34-43 + Psalm 118 + 1 Corinthians 5, 6-80 + John 20, 1-0

There was one of those reality TV shows that I watched once or twice before deciding it was far too sad to be entertaining. It may still be on air, but not because I’ve supported the sponsors. It’s called “Hoarders”. As you may know, the show profiles individuals whose obsessive fear of loss causes a compulsive accumulation of unneeded things. I’ve known a couple of people who suffered from that obsession, and it was truly sad. One of the saddest consequences is how it drives people away, family members, neighbors, and old friends leaving the victim alone and fearful. What is clear about those who suffer from what is obviously an issue of mental health is that the compulsion began with a catastrophic loss, the death of a spouse or some childhood trauma. Memories of some tragic loss drives them to cling to anything that might protect them from another loss. Their only relief is overcoming their fear.

The fear of loss is all around us everywhere. The fear of loss sells security systems and employs security guards. The fear of loss tells us to lock our cars and buy that ever increasingly expensive insurance. That fear of loss leads us to pay nearly as much for a storage unit somewhere as people pay in rent. The fear that we might no longer look young fills medical schools with plastic surgeons, and the fear of dying finds many unprepared, unable, and unwilling to even talk about it, leaving those with faith enough to look forward to what is to come seem really odd.

We don’t have to be a hoarder to feel the chill of death’s shadow because we know deep down that everything we love and rely on will pass away. Fear of the unknown, fear of death, even fear of change can numb our emotions, cloud our vision and make us grasp at things that will rot and wear out. That fear makes us do crazy things and make bad decisions. 

God’s answer to this is what draws us all together on this day and in this place. This day, at the very heart of our faith tradition, reveals God’s plan to transform our doubts, worries, and fears into hope and joy. We are here celebrating Easter not because something wonderful happened for Jesus. We celebrate because what happened for him is given to us: life forever with God and one another. The Resurrection of Christ shows us that we no longer have to live with fears that too often keep us apart leaving us filled with confusion, doubt and frantic efforts to hang on to stuff that will rust and decay. God’s plan in Jesus is far bigger than our puny imaginations. We can face an empty tomb and see something no one else might see.  

John’s Gospel is oddly specific about a detail whose meaning we might not ever have thought about before. It is the condition of those burial cloths. For John they are evidence that death has been defeated. Someone who moved or stole that body would have kept it wrapped up. The sight and smell of a body would have caused disgust, and an unsecured corpse would have been a clumsy burden. Realizing this, the two apostles took the discarded winding-sheet and veil s symbols of the resurrection. The man who bore them needed them no longer. They saw and believed, even though they did not understand how it could have possibly been true.

It is that belief that transformed them and allowed them to move forward even though they did not understand, and forward we go, all of us who believe. We have nothing to lose, those of us who believe. We lose nothing when we love enemies, bless our persecutors, forgive our transgressors, and beg other for forgiveness when we must. Because there is nothing to fear, we can be generous and welcoming to all. When that truth seizes us through faith, we shall suddenly realize that something wonderful is happening to us, and God’s plan is for this to happen again leading us to “go around doing good” just like Jesus did because he still lives through and within us all. 

This is not something we have to intellectually understand, but it is something we must believe if there is to be any hope in our hearts and any hope of this world in God has chosen to be revealed. And so, what more is there to say except: “This is the Day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad. Why? Not because something wonderful happened for Jesus, but because what happened for him is given to us.

10 April 2022 at Saint Peter the Apostle and Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

Isaiah 50, 4-7 + Psalm 22 + Philippians 2, 6-11 + Luke 22,14 – 23,56

In much of Luke’s Gospel, Jerusalem is not so much a place as it is the destiny of all God’s children. It is why Jesus was so intent on going there in spite of all the threats and danger the journey posed for him. His entry into Jerusalem which we commemorate today is the culmination of his life’s work. It is the fulfillment and the end, and he knew that as he rode into town. He knew he was riding to his death, and that only through death would he ever make it home to the Father. 

In Luke’s typical dramatic style, this last week of life for Jesus is set in several “acts” the first of which is this procession which began way back in Chapter 9 when just after the Transfiguration, Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem”. Now with carefully chosen words Luke tells us that Jesus was “ascending” to Jerusalem. He arrives on a borrowed ride. It is a pauper’s throne, and the people are singing what the Angels sang at his birth. Don’t miss that clever Lukan detail.

Every one of the evangelists tell us that the crucifixion was not a disaster that struck down Jesus, but a carefully chosen destiny. Jesus did not die a victim of plotting adversaries. He sacrifices himself in obedience for the sake of all who have been disobedient. He dies fulfilling the will of his Father for the sake of those who did not follow the will of the Father from the very beginning. The disobedience and refusal of Adam and Eve is now set right.

Again, as with every important moment in the life of Jesus, he goes to pray. Before his Baptism, before his Transfiguration, and once again in the garden he prays. This time instead of a voice from the heavens, an angel comforts him. In Luke, angels appear frequently. But this time, God is silent. There is no voice, no cloud, no sound at all. It is as if God would give his son some space. It is as though he needs time to accept the will of the Father he has so often spoken of. Christ could have escaped, but then there would be no escape for us.

While we listen to the Passion being proclaimed today and on Friday, we must not stand and listen nor just wait to speak our lines. We must learn from the last and best lesson we are given by this Rabbi from Nazareth. We can learn from him how to face, accept, and embrace what some might think of as disasters and tragedies. We can learn how to suffer, how to be betrayed, attacked, misunderstood, and even abandoned. We can grow to understand that this is how love is expressed, how hope is seized, and how eternal life is secured. When God seems silent and darkness is about to overcome us, we can learn from Jesus Christ that the Father’s love for us never fails, and no matter what tragedy or disaster may come, there will be an Easter for every one of us who remember the words he spoke: Do This in Memory of Me.

3 April 2022 at St. William Church in Naples, FL

Isaiah 43, 16-21 + Psalm 126 + Philippians 3, 8-14 + John 8, 1-11

This cleverly told story that comes to us from John’s Gospel is loaded with fascinating details to spark our imaginations. At the same time, it is lacking in some details that can also raise some questions in our minds. When it comes to these missing details, we have to wonder how they caught her, and where was the other culprit? If you know the Law of Moses they are quoting, you also know that their quotation is not accurate since the Law of Moses also imposes a penalty on the man. Do these self-appointed enforcers not know the law they seem so ready to enforce?

What we really have here is gang of bullies and an unnamed woman saved by Jesus from a crowd who were out to get him! What we also have here is Jesus confronting the death penalty, and a lot of people don’t like to hear that or even think about it much less learn what Jesus has to say and does about it. What we really have here is meeting of misery and mercy.

In every age people have been fascinated by that detail telling us that Jesus bent down and wrote in the sand. More time has been waisted guessing what he wrote producing nothing more than one silly idea after another. If what was written was really important, John would have told us. What we do know is that Jesus used his finger which every one of those standing there and those who first received John’s Gospel would have remembered is exactly the way God writes on the tablets of Law given to Moses: “with his finger” says Exodus 31, 18. It is also an opportunity to remember that the Law was not given to condemn but as a guide to a godly way of life. 

There is here a delicate balance between the Justice of Jesus in not condoning the sin and his mercy in forgiving the sinner. So, perhaps the writing in the sand is not nearly as important as the posture. John tells us that Jesus bent down. Instead of standing high and mighty, instead of standing over her in judgement, he bent down to her level, and my imagination is that they met eye to eye, and he looked into her soul and again, misery met mercy.

What John seems to be revealing here with this story is not just something about God, but something about us, and how far we often stray from the image in which we were made. Jesus is confronted here by a group of bullies, zealots who have taken upon themselves the indignant enforcing of the law. What Jesus confronts is their zeal for the words of the law that blinds them to the intent of the law. We live in a world of bullies and zealots these days that is rarely tolerates or expects mercy while shouting for justice which in most hands looks more like revenge. 

As this Lenten season moves us toward Holy Week, we are somewhat prepared by this scene for another mob who will be shouting for death. The Jesus sent to us by God has come not to condemn, but to heal and forgive. He comes with empty hands ready to reach down and lift us up surely with the hope that we shall do the same to one another. We can’t do that when our fists are closed around stones of revenge and self-claimed righteousness. Before this Lent comes to an end, we have to drop those stones and embrace our own misery ready to meet mercy.

27 March 2022

Joshua 5, 9-12 + Psalm 34 + 2 Corinthians 5, 17-21 + Luke 15, 1-3-& 11-32

This homily is simply for publication here as I am serving the Maronite Parish in Tequesta, Fl this weekend.

In Luke’s typical style, we get a dramatic piece in five acts: the opening dialogue with the son’s demand, act two with the son’s disillusionment and repentance, act three with his return home, act four with the father and his older son, and act five which remains unfinished. There are four principal characters: the father, two sons, and the listeners, you and me. Each of the characters has an important role. There are really no stars in this drama unless it’s the Father whose presence and spirit seems to drive it all, but concentrating on the Father drains the story of its real message. We hardly need to be reminded that God is good, and none of us could step into that role convincingly. We know how we would likely behave. Some of us would change the locks on the house and cancel all the credit cards that the younger kid might use. Some of us would stand there like the older son with our arms folding, chin in the air, insisting on our privilege because, after all, we’re so dependable and do everything right. Some of us might want to simply remain in the crowd watching it all unfold content to stay where we are and let them work it out.

We are provided this Gospel on the Fourth Sunday in Lent as an urgent plea to find our place in this story which is so like the drama of life. If we are still under the illusion that money and pleasure will make us happy, we need to admit that there is something wrong and something always missing in this life style. It is happiness which is not the same as pleasure, and it is a sense of belonging and real identity.  If we are in the place of that older son, we need to get off our pedestal and listen to our pompous and judgmental talk. That guy never even recognized the other son as his brother. There is something really wrong here. In his haughty attitude, he never even claims the father as his own. He rudely says, “You” every time he opens his mouth.  If we’re standing in that crowd watching it all, we’re still not at the party which has already begun. It might be worse to be a spectator rather than be part of that family.

In any case, the party has begun, the curtain has gone up on the last act of this dramatic piece of Luke’s Gospel. It’s time for us to step out onto the stage with something to celebrate either our own homecoming or the homecoming of those who have been away. The father is waiting for us all.