July 3, 2022 at Saint Peter the Apostle Catholic Church in Naples, FL

Isaiah 66, 10-14 + Psalm 66 + Galatians 6, 14-18 + Luke 10,12-12 & 17-20

There are a lot of details in this instruction that Jesus gives to disciples sent on mission. When you sum them all up, what it really means is that they are to take nothing at all.  He does not send them out with a fist full of pamphlets, the Catechism, or for that matter, a Bible or the Ten Commandments. He doesn’t even tell them what to say. He just sends them, and we can only conclude that the messengers are the message. From the report they give as they return, it was just right.

We have to get over the idea that when Jesus says: “Ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest” he is suggesting that we should pray that someone else will go. That sort of thinking is a bit typical of our age when we see something wrong and think that someone should do something about that when in fact, nothing is going to happen unless we do it. “Go on your way” says Jesus at this moment in this place. You don’t need anything to be a disciple of Jesus on the mission other than the belief that God wants you to go not someone else. Yet, we always think we need something or we’re not good enough, smart enough, free enough, or strong enough to take up the mission of Jesus.  To that thinking, Jesus says: You don’t need anything. Pray, and Go. Yet, some people probably think that you need a degree or some special training to be part of the disciple’s mission. Some people think that you have to know how to teach and what to teach. Some people think that we meet Christ by an argument or some intellectual persuasion. That is not what Jesus did. He listened. He touched, He healed. He fed. He forgave. He served. He went to people’s homes. He never avoided those that others chose to avoid or ignore. 

What is revealed here is something too often forgotten. It is the simple yet powerful ministry of presence. It is the truth that joyful, kind, merciful, and forgiving people who do not criticize or judge are really nice to be around which is exactly the way Jesus carried on the mission he was given by the Father. Jesus did not call any great scholars, brilliant scribes, or holy Pharisees to be his disciples. He called unskilled, simple working people. He invited them to hang around him for a while to watch and listen. Then he said: “Go.”

This world is still a little short of people who understand that the mission of Jesus was basically a ministry of presence. He simply came to be with us. He did not come to judge or condemn. The only people he criticized were those who criticized others. This world is still a little short of laborers to bring in the harvest. It might be time to stop thinking that someone else should do it. It might be time to get the point of this Gospel. It might be time to recognize that sending 72 rather than the 12 meant that he was sending everybody not just some chosen few. 

The mission of Jesus is not served by just the twelve apostles, bishops, priests or deacons.  Those barefoot disciples discovered that the message was in the messengers themselves. All they needed was confidence in their faith, hope for the future, and the kindness of love. Evangelization in the style of Jesus is all about presence, just being there. It worked for Jesus. People came from all the place to be around that man who did good, who spoke of peace, and showed mercy.

People who evangelize by their presence are always recognized by their freedom. They can hang out with anyone, without concern for what others might think or say. They notice needs and respond to them with whatever they have. They are not anti-establishment as much as they are simply not impressed by power or prestige. They live today knowing that tomorrow is beyond their control and the future holds promises we can hardly begin to imagine. 

June 26, 2022 at Saint William Catholic Church in Naples, FL

1 Kings 19, 19-21 + Psalm 16 + Galatians 5, 1, 13-18 + Luke 9, 51-62

There is so much in the verses of this Gospel proclaimed throughout the world today. It is almost too much for one Sunday. We could easily take three weeks to reflect on each of these three people who came up to Jesus wanting to be disciples. Relax! I’m not going to do that. Today. Their excuses are all good ones and timely, but they are just that, excuses. Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem. That is the future. There is no looking back, and that comment at the end of this passage is a good thought for all of us who sometimes prefer to look backward rather than to look forward. It is the future that matters, not the past. It is the past that got us to this day, and we are a people and a church moving toward the future, Jerusalem, which for us in the Kingdom of God. Repeating the past does not get us moving, it just leaves us standing in place.

What is said before these wanna-be disciples come up to Jesus is almost more important because it speaks to those who are already disciples, James and John.

Jesus is taking a short-cut through Samaria to get to Jerusalem, and that direct route takes him through enemy territory. The Samaritans are hostile to the Jews, and when they discover a Jew passing through is headed to Jerusalem they go out of their way to be inhospitable and perhaps even violent. John and James are mad about this. They have encountered people who are different. They have encountered a people who believe differently, seem hostile, and are completely at odds with what James, John, and Jesus believe to be true. These two apostles imagine that they have some magical or divine power to destroy, and they want to use it. That’s the way they respond to someone who is different: get rid of them. What they discover, and what this Gospel reminds us of today is that Jesus and his Father are not in the business of obliterating other. That is simply not the way it works with God and with God’s people. Jesus simply tells them to look for a more hospitable spot, and that’s all there is to it.

We could learn a good lesson from this simple event. We can learn from watching Jesus and from watching his disciples. Love cannot be coerced, and so God simply waits. God does not force anyone to faith. God does not punish those who are slow to believe. God just waits because grace works very slowly. As this episode continues, what we see is that all kinds of people are being invited to join Jesus on his way to Jerusalem. One turns him down and he simply invites another. Some follow and some don’t None are perfect, but none are totally lost.

The only thing that frees us to follow Jesus and make it to Jerusalem is love. With it there is no danger or fear, and the lure of the past has no power. While Jesus had no place to lay his head, his followers enjoy many homes. It is a vision of the Kingdom, the New Jerusalem that motivates us to look to Jesus and learn from him. It is a vision of the Kingdom and the New Jerusalem that give us a kind of inner peace, confidence, and hope that allows us to live with others who are different, and wait, like the Father, for all to be one. 

June 19, 2022 at Saint Elizabeth Seton and Saint William Catholic Churches in Naples, FL

Genesis 14, 18-20 + Psalm 110 + 1 Corinthians 11, 23-26 + Luke 9, 11-17

It disturbs me a little that the committee who organized the Sunday Readings stopped the reading at verse 26. It bothers me because what comes in the next three verses is the point of what proceeds. The next verses go like this: “Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord. A person should examine themselves, and so eat the bread and drink the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on themselves.”

Those verses are the strongest condemnation in the entire New Testament, and they are not to be taken lightly. In the context of the Sacred Liturgy, a letter written to the Church in Corinth is written as well to the Church of Naples. We are challenged by this Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ to gather around this altar as commanded to “Do this in memory of me.” Only Luke and Paul preserve those words, and Paul repeats them twice. We are not here to “get” or “take” communion. We are here to enter into communion with Christ and to become the Body of Christ. We are here to DO something in memory of Christ. Eating and drinking is not the “doing.”

So, we need to be clear about what “this” is, and what “memory” means. Religious Memory is not an intellectual activity. It is a power that allows us to participate in what had formed people in the past. Memory in the experience of religion has the power to bring the past into the present with such force that we feel and are part of the past. And so, there are no observers. When we remember the Last Supper, we are there, at the table. We are not pretending, rehearsing, or re-enacting that meal. It is now as much as it was then. That’s what it means to “remember.”

Once we get that right, we might wonder what Jesus is asking us to do. What is “this”? Well, we can learn from the Corinthians that “this” was certainly not an imitation of words and gestures of Jesus. They seem to have thought, and some may still think, that “this” is the repetition of certain words and gestures. NOT! Says Paul.

When Jesus says: “Do this” he refers to giving himself, to pouring out his life’s blood for the sake of others. He does not refer to a menu, a prayer formula or set of gestures. To take, bless and break bread in Jesus’ name implies the commitment to be in communion with his self-giving and make it our own.

The Gospel today is the only story told six times in the Gospels to make a point. We often wrongly call it the “Multiplication” of loaves, but not one of the six versions say that the quantity of bread increased. They simply tell us that the disciples claimed there was not enough while Jesus asked them to give everything they had. When they did, there was more than enough. Each of those six stories foreshadow the Last Supper repeating the formula that Jesus “took, blessed and broke” to satisfy the needs of the people. He teaches us how to give all we are and all we have just as he did through his life and death. That was, and only that could be enough.

There are no observers at the table of the Eucharist. When we take and eat, we had better be ready to be broken and poured out in service and in love, or we “bring judgement” on ourselves as Paul said. At this table we are invited into communion with Jesus Christ who still lives in and through us, and we commit ourselves to proclaim the death of the Lord by our very lives. Nothing else matters.

June 12, 2022 at Saint William Catholic Church in Naples, FL

Proverbs 8, 22-31 + Psalm 8 + Romans 5, 1-5 + John 16, 12-15

This great holy day draws our attention to The Holy Trinity leading us to wonder and reflect on what it means to be made in the image and likeness of God. This day is not an occasion to dig into great theological ideas about three-in-one and one-in-three, or “Undivided Trinity” as the hymn goes. Neither is it a time to study the nature and relationship of Jesus, the one he calls “The Father,” and the Spirit/Advocate he speaks of at the last supper. That’s for classrooms and theological lectures. This is Liturgy. This is a time to praise, to bless, to adore, to glorify and give thanks to God; and we do that best by being who we are as the faithful disciples of Jesus and members of his Church.

This day that comes around every year just after Pentecost exposes our illusion of autonomy and independence.  It mocks the pretensions of everyday life and the whole self-centered idea of precious individuality that spouts a silly litany of my body, my private property, my rights, my needs, my interests. It goes on and on and we hear day in and day out.

The consequence of this shallow thinking begins to suggest that “others” are the problem. So, the ego is constantly being challenged and nagged at by “them”. The philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre said that we do not need the threat of fire and red-hot pokers: “Hell is other people.” Otherness is the enemy.

Yet, “otherness” is at the very beginning. The Trinity is there before creation. In other words, it’s all about relationships, and without relationships, there is nothing. In the beginning was the Word, says the opening line of John’s Gospel, and when the Father speaks that Word and breathes, there is life, and eventually, there we are. This feast and our understanding of the Trinity rests upon our understanding of ourselves as living members of humanity, and in faith, as living members of the Body of Christ. We do not exist alone. We cannot exist, and no one can truly live alone.

The strength of our relationships, the bond we have with each other in trust, in love, and friendship, and in the human family is the biggest part of what it means to be made in the image and likeness of God, because, God exists in relationship and what holds that relationship together is love. Which is exactly what holds a family together. When it is broken or missing, lost or forgotten, there is no family, and when there is no love, there is no image of God.

There is an intimacy about all of this, a kind of unspoken and awesome wonder in which the love of God among us conquers all things. That love holds us up, that love is revealed in joy, and that love renews, restores, and recreates what God began on the first day of creation. We celebrate relationships today because of the Trinity. We celebrate all that holds us together, our stories, our woes, our sorrows, and our joys, and most of all, our faith in God is and always will be, Father, Son, and Spirit. It is a good day to be together, and it will get even better if we reach out to and hold on to those we love and to those who love us.

June 5, 2022 at Saint William Catholic Church in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 2, 1-11 + Psalm 104 + 1 Corinthians 12, 3-7, 12-13 + John 20, 19-23

 As long as we continue to read, listen to, and proclaim the Gospel as though it is about someone else or that what we read is some kind of historical report, we have no place to go, nothing to do, and for that matter, we have no future, and things in this world, our world will just always be the same. There will simply be anger and division, more losers than winners, a shinking church, and a world divided, suspicious, unjust, and probably violent. As long as anyone of us hears this Gospel proclaimed during the Sacred Liturgy and thinks that Jesus is talking to a group of people hiding in a Jerusalem safe-house, nothing that keeps the Kingdom of God from breaking into our lives will ever change. 

Jesus Christ speaks to each one of us when we are here. We are not just one of a crowd, nameless, faceless numbers. In Luke’s Gospel that fire seperted and settled over each person in that room. the command of his mission is entrusted to every one of us. The fire of Pentecost singles each of us out, gives each of us a face and a name, a value and dignity, a purpose that is truly individual and truly unique.

What we have here is a reenactment of creation. At that moment in Genesis the human vocation was to be stewards of all creation, and nothing has changed that command. Creation is ours to care for and not just the environment which we ought to take more seriously, but other human beings as well. There is no one on this earth beyond our responsibility. At some moment today, and every day, we will be called upon, in our own way, to bring the power of the Holy Spirit to bear upon the task of building up and nurturing the people of God.

We might have a chance to just listen to someone who needs to talk without rolling our eyes, wondering when they will stop, or looking at our watch. We might have the opportunity to thank someone who is always being taken for granted. We might simply be given the chance to laugh and help someone else laugh and make their day more pleasant. A sense of humor is a divine power, and so is a sense of beauty that allows us to be more sensitive not about our own feelings, but toward someone else who is hurt.

Over and above that, the clearest sign that the Holy Spirit is present is courage, and that seems to be in short supply. It was fear that kept those Apostles huddled in that room before Pentecost, and the first effective sign of the Holy Spirit was that they acted in spite of their fear.

A people filled with the Holy Spirit are never silent in the face of wrong doing. They cannot be silent in the face of violence or hatred. They speak the truth because they know the truth. Wisdom and Understanding leads them to know the difference between an opinion, a lie, and the truth, and they will never settle for anything short of the truth.

Two miracles seem to have happened on that first day of Pentecost. The Scriptures do not just say that the Apostles spoke new languages. It says that they were understood. Whenever I think about this, I recall old Father Wade Darnall who was a mentor to me early in my priesthood. He did not speak one word of Spanish, but served a people who did not speak English. They loved him, and they knew that he loved them. There are ways of speaking without words that we sometimes forget about. As we pray today that the Holy Spirit will fill us and renew us, we might well pray again for that gift of understanding that sometimes is more important than the gift of tongues. When we begin to really understand who we are and what we are as God’s people, chosen, and loved, a lot of things will be different, and we might just be closer to the Kingdom of God.

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.