Sunday, May 27, 2012

Dedication


Pentecost
Cycle B
Deacon Aniceto Armendariz was a devoted husband and father, a strong leader in this community, and one of the holiest people I have ever known. He died a martyr to his faith. Most important to me, Cheto was my friend. This morning we celebrate Mass for his intention and will dedicate the fellowship room at St. Lawrence in Heber to his memory. It is truly fitting that we do so.

Nancy and I had met Aniceto and Alma when they first came to Park City, but we were not really friendly yet. We saw each other at meetings and parish activities, but at that time they did not speak much English and our Spanish was poor, so we rarely talked to each other. But even then we knew Aniceto and Alma were special, because we saw how dedicated they were to their people and to their church. There was a spark of fire in their eyes, the fire of the Holy Spirit.

It wasn’t until Aniceto and I were accepted into the diaconate formation program thirteen years ago that we really got to know each other. We would drive down to Salt Lake City to the classes together every week. At that time Aniceto could only speak a little English, and we would sit next to each other in class so I could help him understand or translate something that was said. We worked out a great language learning system. In the car on the way down he would speak to me in English and I would speak to him in Spanish and we would correct each other. By the end of the four years of classes, he was fluent in English and I was, well, still poor at Spanish.

We would talk about our lives and our families. We would discuss what we were learning in the classes. We would talk about what the future would bring after we were ordained. Somehow we were able to communicate with each other. The differences in our languages were not important, however, because we both knew the message we were hearing. That message was the word of God, the good news of Jesus, and even though we couldn’t understand all the words, we understood the message. That message was life changing for us. It transformed us from followers to true disciples. It formed us into servants. It formed us into friends. It formed us into brothers.

We heard today the great story of the first Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit came so strongly upon the apostles that they were able to go out and preach the good news of Jesus Christ to people of all nations, and those people were able to understand the message. St. Luke says that the people in the crowd heard the apostles preach each in their own language, even though they were from all over the world. The miracle of Pentecost was not so much that the apostles spoke in foreign tongues, but that the people understood the universal message they were speaking. The gospel of Jesus was already within them. The apostles’ words just allowed them to recognize it.

The message of Jesus is universal. It knows no language, because it is the language of the heart. It does not need to be translated into any language, because we all already know the words. Those words were placed in us by God when we were formed in the womb and all it takes is the voice of God to set them free in our hearts. The gospel knows no limits. It cannot be put in a box or be the sole possession of this country or that. The gospel does not belong to any political party or race. It is not male or female, rich or poor, educated or ignorant. 

The gospel of Jesus is universal. It is catholic. The word catholic means universal. And just as the message of Jesus Christ is catholic – universal - the church he left behind is also catholic - universal.  The Catholic church is not contained in any single nation or race or political party. We are all called to the same mission by the same message. The message of Pentecost.  The mission of Pentecost. 

In today’s gospel we heard again the story of the first time Jesus appeared to his disciples in the upper room on Easter Sunday. It is not by accident that his first words to them were “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  They were not to remain in that upper room, in safety, just praying and living together. Where would the Church be if they hadn’t left that room? How would the gospel be released in the hearts of millions and millions of people if the apostles had stayed in the comfort of that room? Jesus commanded them to go out and preach the good news to all people, to make disciples of all nations.

That has been the mission of the Church from the very beginning. We take the good news to everyone, no matter their race, creed, nationality or legal status. We feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, heal the sick, bring comfort to prisoners. Jesus said that that is how we will be judged, by how we treat the least of our brothers and sisters. 

You cannot take that mission away from the Church if it is to remain the Church. We are not called to simply worship in our church buildings and keep our faith amongst ourselves. We are called to carry that faith into the world. We cannot separate our faith from our daily lives and just be Sunday Catholics. Just as the apostles could not remain in the upper room, we must carry the good news to the world.

That is why the attacks on religious freedom that confront us today in this country are so important. We are all familiar with the HHS mandate. The issue is not contraception, as the media has tried to frame it. The Church is not asking that access to artificial contraception be denied or limited. The issue is much more important than that. The core question is who is going to determine what a church is and what they will be allowed to do. 

The core issue there is the narrowness of the exemption provided. Only those churches that employ and provide services for their own members are exempt from the mandate. Basically, it is saying that there is freedom of worship, but not freedom of religion. We can do what we like in the privacy of our own churches but if we do anything outside in the greater community the government can force us to do things that violate our mission and our consciences. 

Another attack on that mission is the Alabama immigration law, which is written so broadly that it can be interpreted to prohibit the Church from administering the sacraments and social services to anyone suspected of being in this country illegally. The Catholic Church does not and cannot limit our mission to Catholics only. We do not ask you for your Church ID when you check into a hospital or soup kitchen or food bank or adoption agency. We do not and cannot ask for your passport when you come to us to receive the sacraments. That’s not our job and it’s not our mission. This is not about politics. And it’s not just a Catholic Church issue. Jesus said to make disciples of all nations. He sent the apostles out of that upper room into the entire world. What would the world be like if the Church was not allowed to fulfill its mission?

There are many other attacks on the Church’s mission today. I urge you to go to the website of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops to read the entire position of your church on this issue. If you rely only on sensational headlines you are not living as a mature Christian. You must fully inform your conscience in this matter if you are to live your discipleship.

Tomorrow we will celebrate Memorial Day, when we remember and honor those men and women who have given the last full measure of devotion for our country and its guaranteed freedoms. Those freedoms are not granted us by government but by God. It says so in the Declaration of Independence. Those freedoms are protected by the Constitution, and our military and political leaders have taken an oath to defend that constitution. Religious freedom is in the First Amendment for a reason, because it has always been considered the most important freedom from which all other liberty derives.

But liberty is not just for Americans, just as the good news is not just for Catholics. Because when you get down to it, it is the same message. The good news of Jesus is all about freedom; freedom from sin, freedom from oppression, freedom to be fully human. To be all we were meant to be. On Easter Sunday Jesus gave the apostles his peace, told them to forgive sins, and sent them out into the world to spread that peace and forgiveness. That is the good news. That is our mission.

Many have died in defense of this country and the liberty it provides. Deacon Aniceto died in the service of his people and his church. It is truly fitting that we dedicate our fellowship room at St. Lawrence to his memory today. In doing so we honor him and dedicate ourselves to carry on his mission to the world. The entire world.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Behold the Wood of the Cross

Good Friday

Behold the Wood of the Cross, On Which is Hung our Salvation

Every Good Friday we practice a peculiar form of devotion. We venerate the cross, usually with a kiss. This practice goes back to the 5th century in Jerusalem, after St. Helen is said to have discovered the true cross of Christ and brought it back to Rome. Since that time Christians have venerated probably the most heinous torture device ever devised by man. It must seem strange to non-Catholics to see us bend down and kiss a piece of wood. We ourselves may feel awkward doing it. It doesn’t seem natural. We’d rather pray before a beautiful statue or painting, not a symbol of death.

We don’t like the cross. We don’t like to confront our own suffering and death. We don’t like to be reminded of the example Jesus set for us on Calvary. Jesus didn’t like the cross, either. He asked his Father to take that particular cup from him. It is the only time in scripture where Jesus asked his Father to not do something. But he embraced the cross when it became clear that it was the Father’s will that he do so.

We don’t understand the cross, but Jesus did. He didn’t see it as an instrument of humiliation. He saw it as the path to his ultimate glorification. He didn’t think of it as a method of torture. He saw it as a way to draw our own sufferings into his and so give them great meaning and purpose. He didn’t see a means of execution. He knew that through his death he would destroy death forever. He did not see it as the end of life, but the beginning of eternal life. Without his death there could be no resurrection.

Jesus said that if we are to be his followers we are to pick up our crosses and follow him. He never said we had to die with him, only treat our daily crosses as he treated his. Once Jesus accepted the will of his Father to pick up that cross, he used it as a tool for conversion and ultimately the salvation of the world. We are called to do the same.

Consider the people who were affected by Jesus’ Way of the Cross. There was Pilate’s wife. The women of Jerusalem. Veronica. Simon of Cyrene. The Roman Centurian. The Good Thief. The Beloved Disciple. Mary and the women at the foot of the cross. It wasn’t Jesus’ words that necessarily changed their lives, it was the action of the cross.

If we are to be his disciples we must pick up our cross daily and follow him. It is through our individual crosses that we can change the world. Our example in how we handle the suffering in our lives can be the most powerful conversion tool in the world, far stronger than our words of testimony. Jesus’ detractors wanted to see him humbled in the dust. They did not want him to get up and continue on. They wanted to see him defeated. They were watching to see how he would react.

People are watching us, just as the crowds watched Jesus. People who are hostile to our faith watch most closely of all. They are waiting for us to stumble and fall, and they want us to stay on the ground. How will we react?

Who are the people in our own Vias Delorosas? Can our own submission to the will of our Father cause someone to be so disturbed that they choose to believe? Can those who pray for us find strength in our weakness? Can the stranger who helps us when no one else will be left with an indelible mark of our humility on their hearts? Will the reluctant unbeliever be inspired by our cross to go out and help others? Will the incorrigible sinner come to the Lord for mercy for the first time in his life? Will those who persecute us ultimately come to believe that Jesus truly is the Son of God? Will our own families and those closest to us draw strength from our strength?

Suffering is a part of life. We will all be touched by it in some way or another. How we deal with our suffering will determine its ultimate value. Will we allow it to wear us down and destroy us, or will we see it as Jesus saw his, as a tool to bring souls to salvation?

It all comes down to the cross. Will we embrace it or reject it? Behold the wood of the cross. Without it there can be no salvation. O come, let us adore.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Messy Business


Holy Thursday Homily

Ex 12:1-8,11-14

Ps 116:12-13,15-16,17-18

1 Cor 11:23-26

Jn 13:1-15

Washing someone’s feet was not a pretty job. Remember that in Jesus’ time there were no paved roads and no dedicated sewage systems. The dirt roads served as sewers. And if you were wearing open-toed sandals it was inevitable that you¹d get gunk on your feet. Nobody wanted to track that stuff inside. As we travel along the road of life we pick up a lot of gunk, too. We encounter discrimination, prejudice, hatred, misunderstanding, and outright hostility when we journey as Christians. No matter what we wear on our feet we get dirty. It’s hard to wash off, especially by yourself.

Luckily, we don’t journey along the road alone. We meet others along the way who are going the same way. Some are going elsewhere. But we all get our feet dirty, and we all need our feet washed. It’s hard to wash your own feet. It’s easier if someone else does it for you. Even in the shower it takes a bit of balancing to get between your toes. But having your feet washed is really a rather intimate experience. Our feet are sensitive and ticklish. They bear the weight of our bodies day after day, often becoming scarred and blemished over time. Our feet are often ugly. We tend to cover them up.

Foot washing is a sign of humility. The foot washer was the lowliest servant in the household. That’s why Jesus’ use of this symbolic action was so powerful. He really illustrated just how much we need to humble ourselves and serve others. But having your feet washed is also a humbling experience. It requires that we drop our defenses and put ourselves into the hands of another. Someone who will see just how scarred we are.

The Hebrews in the first reading today were going on a journey to God-knows-where. All they knew was that they were leaving. Anywhere would have been better than where they were, but they left the journey up to God. Their journey was one of complete faith; yet mixed with their joy was a level of fear of the unknown. Jesus knew that his journey would soon be over. He knew where he was going and that foreknowledge was agonizing. He left the upper room and went out into the darkness. Into the fear and anxiety and pain of the garden. Into total abandonment by his friends and perhaps even by his Father. His journey had nothing left to sustain it but faith.

That night Jesus chose to leave his friends two things for their journey: the nourishment they needed to travel it, and the support they needed to complete it. The bread he broke was just a hint of the body that would be broken on the cross. The wine he poured was just a shadow of the blood he would shed on Calvary. He himself was the lamb that was slaughtered, and his suffering the bitter herbs.

We too are called to break ourselves for others. That same Eucharist sustains us. Jesus showed his friends how to be foot washers. Just before he made this gesture, John says that the apostles were arguing over who was the most important person in the group. Even at this late stage in the journey, they still didn’t get it. They were still judging by the world¹s standards. Jesus’ actions must have been like a slap in the face. But with compassion he then left them each other to be a community of servants. That same community guides us and supports us on our journey. Our road can be filled with danger, fear, and anxiety. Like Jesus, after we leave this supper we will go out into the night, into the darkness. Tonight there will be no words of dismissal. We will not be called to go forth in the peace of Christ to love and serve one another. We will just leave. Into the quiet of the night.