Homilies

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

July 23, 2023

One of the great questions found in literature, philosophy, and in the history of ideas is the fact that our life is a mixture of good and evil. We are imperfect people living in an imperfect world. Everywhere we look we find this strange mixture of what’s right and what’s wrong. Why there is evil?

As followers of Jesus Christ, what do we do with the problem of evil? That’s the question raised in today’s readings. Answering the question is a big problem for all of us. Just what do we do when it comes to ridding ourselves and our world of evil? The Scripture passages in today’s first reading and today’s gospel account suggest that we deal with evil as God deals with it, with patience and forbearance. Evil will eventually reveal itself and evil will eventually suffer the consequences it brings down upon itself. Sin brings with it its own suffering and punishment.

God, however, is not quick to render final judgments upon us. In His infinite patience and loving mercy God gives us plenty of time to make multiple decisions to choose what is decent, right, and good. In a very real sense God doesn’t have to condemn us; we do a good job in condemning ourselves. That is perhaps why God is both just and merciful at the same time. There are a couple of interesting points that I would like to point out to you about the parable that we just heard. One is that when He was asked where the weeds came from Jesus replied: “An enemy has done this.” He doesn’t tell us why God has enemies; He simply states it as a fact.

He is a realist, not a dreamy eyed idealist. To take a realistic view of life we simply must begin with the facts – evil exists and it comes from people who have chosen to defy God. It may not make any sense to us, but we simply must take it as a fact of life. People, of their own free will, choose to defy God and do things quite apart from Him. In the world of human choices, things are not as they ought to be, things are quite apart from what God intended them to be. The price of human freedom of choice is terribly costly, not only to us, but to God. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, had to pay that price.

Sometimes we may ask Why, doesn’t God simply pull up all of evil’s weeds? Why doesn’t God, with fire and brimstone, simply blast evil off the face of the earth? Well, that’s a lot easier said than done. Suppose if God did, what would happen? What would happen to each one of us? Aren’t we all a mixture of good and evil? Wouldn’t we get caught up on their firestorm of evil’s destruction?

Which brings me to the second point, namely the fact that so very often what is evil appears to be good, and what is good appears to be evil. We can’t make the sorting; only God can. In today’s parable Jesus speaks of the weeds are darnel. Now at the beginning of the growing process darnel looks just like wheat. It’s only when the harvest time approaches that the difference between the two becomes apparent. We know that to be true, don’t we?

Everything in this world has something wrong within it. We certainly know that’s true in our own Church, in our nation, in our world, and in our own personal lives. There are no “quick-fix” and easy solutions. Patience and forbearance are necessary, and to have patience and forbearance one must have faith.

This is what Jesus is calling us to have – faith in His heavenly Father’s plan, faith in His heavenly Father’s ultimate ways of dealing with us and with our world. We have to believe in God’s goodness and believe in His love for all that is good in our world. Isn’t that the faith Jesus had when he suffered His agony in the Garden of Gethsemane and as He hung dying on the cross? The Evil One tempted Him to despair, tempted Him to go over to the Dark Side. But Jesus remained steadfast, confident till at the end, at harvest time, His Father in heaven would harvest the good wheat and burn the darnel. Dying, Jesus handed over His fate to His Father in heaven.

Yes, it is a strange world we live in. But at the same time it is a beautiful world, a beautiful world filled with beautiful, wonderful, and even heroic people. The miracle is that goodness and love have survived evil’s onslaught. What is the vision in which you live? Do you really have faith in your heavenly Father, in the ultimate triumph of good over evil, and in the power of love? Today, once again, Jesus invites us to share in His vision, in His hope, and in His faith that in the end God our Father will bring good out of evil.

But sometimes, we fail to realize that the weeds…are us. God gives us time. He gives us opportunities to learn; to grow; to convert. We can become more than what we are. St. Augustine once put it this way: Consider what we choose to be in God’s field; consider what sort of people we are found to be at the harvest. Nobody knows what is going to happen tomorrow. What do we want to be? Uplifted by his love, nourished by the Eucharist we are about to receive, enriched by his Word in our hearts, we can leave this sacred place today carrying this hope: We don’t have to be weeds. By God’s grace, we can become wheat.

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

July 16th, 2023

“A Sower went out to sow…” Those simple words begin one of the most memorable parables in the gospel – a story that has much to teach us not only about gardening and growing, but also about listening; Listening to the Word of God; Being receptive to it; Being open to it. That can be hard to do, when there is so much noise in the world distracting us from God and trying to drown out His Word. But there is something striking and very hopeful about this parable that I would like all of us to consider today.

First, as much as this famous parable is about our being open to God and the seeds that He sends our way, it is also about God’s eagerness to share those seeds. This is a story about God’s extravagant generosity – and his boundless love. The Sower doesn’t discriminate, doesn’t pick and choose.  He scatters his seeds — His Word, His Truth — anywhere and everywhere.  He doesn’t hold back.  He is generous beyond measure with what he has to offer.  He knows that it will somehow reach the richest soil. It might even be in the most unexpected of places.

I think of one of the greatest heroes, Thomas Merton – a jaded, jazz-loving, cigarette-smoking, girl-chasing writer who drifted from being an indifferent Protestant to being a communist – and then, in the middle of his wanderings, discovered the poetry of the Catholic writer William Blake.  That led him to explore the Catholic Church and eventually to convert. He fell madly, deeply in love with God.  Merton became a Trappist monk and writer.  He stands today as one of the influential Catholic writers of the Twentieth (20th) century.

Even among the thorns of Merton’s confused and complicated life, God’s seed found rich soil. It happens again and again in our history – from St. Paul to St. Augustine to St. Ignatius to Dorothy Day to Mother Theresa and beyond.  The soil they sprang from wasn’t always ideal.  We are a church of rocks, and thorns, besieged by birds – and yet, amid this vast and surprising garden, God’s smallest seeds find fertile ground.  His Word takes root. This brings me to one other significant point in this parable.  It bears remembering. In this story, the sower doesn’t change.  The seed doesn’t change.

What changes is the soil. What changes are the conditions that allow the seed to be planted. What changes is the environment that lets the seed bear fruit. What changes, in fact…is us. And we may never know where, or how, it will happen. Christie Martin grew up in a Protestant family. Eventually, like a lot of young people, she drifted into New Age, neo-paganism.  One day, out of curiosity, she found herself sitting in a mass in a Catholic Church.  She later described herself as “watching it like I would watch a National Geographic nature film.”  She was expecting to be bored, or amused.

But then she heard the chanting of the responsorial psalm. And she realized: this is something that goes back further, and deeper, than she ever imagined.  There were connections here, she realized, to ancient Judaism.  Christie had never seen that anywhere before.  And as the mass went on, she realized this was something both ancient, and new.  A great story of God’s relationship with man was continuing. At the moment of consecration, it hit her: “What if all this were actually true?” As she wrote about it later, her conversion took all of three seconds. She put it bluntly: “I was hit repeatedly in the head with a two- by-four (hit pretty hard) …”

Listen to what she wrote: “It was beautiful and delicate and utterly horrifying,” she wrote.  “I saw things, felt things, all in quick succession with the complete clarity of the words, ‘It is all true,’ ringing me like a bell.  Jesus himself was upon that altar, and I was done for. It was true. I could never again deny the truth of it, but I could still deny Him. A yes would cost me every friend I had, the community I would built, my reputation. Everything. Was I willing to give it all up?  Oh, God, yes.” She joined the Church a few months later, along with her husband. She now has a blog titled, appropriately, “Garden of Holiness.” Christie Martin is now tending her own “garden,” growing a beautiful harvest that is reaching people around the world.

Today and every day, God sets about doing His great work: a Sower goes out to sow.  He sows in a world tangled with doubt and disbelief, shaded and clouded by forces that don’t want the seed to grow, that would prefer that the planet be an arid desert. And yet: God sows; with abandon; with exuberance; with love. He never stops. Confronted with that extravagant generosity, we confront the question buried in the heart of this gospel: are we willing to help Him? Are we willing to listen? Are we willing to keep our minds and hearts open to His word? Are we willing to clear away some of the weeds and rocks in our lives – whatever pride or cynicism or distraction is getting in the way — and give those seeds a chance?

Are we ready to receive what the sower has to offer? No matter what the condition of our soil, no matter how barren the ground or thorny the field, each of us can bring forth a great harvest. Are we ready to help His garden grow? What kind of harvest are we preparing? What kinds of seeds are we sowing? This gospel reminds us that God’s work happens in remarkable and unexpected ways.  So: Give the world a garden of explosive beauty. Plant what will last. Nurture what will grow. Scatter seeds of eternity. Christ did that. Can we do any less? This is our call. Every word we speak, every choice we make, every gesture we offer is one more seed, one more way of spreading the gospel.

Previous Homilies:

May we, like our patron, St. Brendan, trust joyfully in the guidance of our God and in the goodness of our fellow travelers.

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