Jesus Goes to Disney World

Grace and the Response

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 17 Jun 2013 00:59:00 +0000

What is grace?

People of faith talk about grace a lot. We “say” grace before meals; we try to get into others’ good graces; we want to live in a state of grace; I offer “the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ” at the beginning of Mass, and you offer it right back; the word for “thanks” in Greek, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Latin all mean, literally, “graces.”

In our own faith tradition and theology, we speak of “sanctifying grace,” “habitual grace,” “actual grace,” “sufficient grace,” and “effective grace.”

But, do we know what we mean by “grace?”

Grace, simply put, is not truly a “thing” that we hold or pass on or possess. Rather, grace is a relationship – the relationship, really. It is the relationship that God chooses to have with His creation, and it starts and ends with God Himself. It is through this grace that we are saved and offered eternal life through Jesus Christ.

This is what St. Paul is talking about today when he writes, “I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and given himself up for me.” He is reminding the Galatians that their personal salvation does not come from anything that they do or observe; rather, it comes from the free choice of God to have a relationship with them – and even when we were dead in sin, He offered that relationship to us, freely, gratis, that is, by grace.

The Pharisees have a lot to learn about this grace, since they believe that this grace must be earned. The woman at Jesus’ feet, certainly, has not earned that grace, has not earned forgiveness. However, Jesus has a lesson to teach them, and us, about how that grace works. His story of the forgiving creditor who waived the entire debt of his debtors is meant to convey the reality and beauty of God’s love and grace toward us, and also, our response to that grace.

First, the man owed a lot! Five hundred days’ wages! Imagine a year and a half’s salary. The second owed a month and a half’s salary. Both were unable to repay – they had no way of “earning” repayment. So, as Jesus matter-of-factly notes, the creditor forgave it for both.

What Jesus is teaching here, first, is the absolute generosity of God. God forgives. There is no pageantry, no fanfare, no ceremony; God just forgives. This is one of the reasons why, especially when someone comes to me in confession after a very long time, I like to give a very simple penance. That’s just how God is. Even before we realize our wrong, God is there waiting to offer that grace – that renewed relationship.

The second lesson comes next. After being forgiven the debt, which of them will love him more? The Pharisee replies rightly, the one … whose larger debt was forgiven. This, Jesus says, is the motive for the woman at His feet: love. She comes to Jesus and literally pours herself out for Him - washing his feet with her tears, drying them with her hair, and providing ointment (not just oil) for Him out of a more expensive alabaster jar. It is gratitude for that relationship that God offers her and us through Jesus Christ, and we are all offered that grace.

So, the question comes to us. Having heard this lesson on the absolute gratuity of God’s forgiveness and love, how do we respond?

And we must respond. This is what faith demands; otherwise, it isn't really faith.

What good is it if we are offered forgiveness but do not extend forgiveness to others out of gratitude?

What good is grace if we do not respond in kind to God, offering ourselves to Him out of love?

What good is it to say we are Christian but to live as if God is not an intimate part of our lives?

Here, we are offered – again, freely – the very life of God: the Body and Blood of Jesus. He feeds us with Himself, and we are sent forth. But, what good is it that the Bread and Wine change but we don’t?

Grace – that relationship between God and us – grace transforms us. It must. Otherwise, as St. Paul says, Christ died for nothing. Do you believe that?

No.

We are offered, again and again, the life and love – the grace – of God. We live in that grace and out of it – sharing the joy of this relationship with others. Are we grateful (“gracias,” grazie,” “agimus gratiam,” eucharistesoume”) to God for all He has offered to us in Jesus?

Gratitude is a virtue that we value, but we may not always cultivate it. Parents remind their kids to say “thank you,” but true gratitude is transformative. A woman I once knew told me, “Gratitude is the refinement of the soul.” She’s right. Now, if the central act of our worship is the “Eucharist” – literally, “thanksgiving” – then it is God who refines each and every one of us.

Grace is offered in this place.

How will we show gratitude this week?

Out of the Ordinary

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 10 Jun 2013 14:08:00 +0000

[I was honored to preach at the First Mass of Thanksgiving of Fr. Angel Marrero, who was ordained for Baltimore on Saturday. Here is the Sunday homily.]

Today, we return to the Sundays of Ordinary Time.

"Ordinary."

What's so great about that?

The great celebrations of the Easter season even required a couple weekends of extra festivity with Holy Trinity and Corpus Christi. But now, here in Ordinary Time, what's the big deal? It's just life as usual now. Should we even bother?

Even the readings seem to settle back into the everyday business of life: Paul is just telling us how he got his start, and Jesus is chugging along, raising young men, inspiring faith.

"Ordinary" stuff as far as we are concerned.

Bring on the summer vacations!

But hold on a second. Is this time really ordinary? Are there wonders still at work? Let’s try and pay closer attention for a moment.

Today, we gather and rejoice with Fr. Angel as he celebrates his first Mass of Thanksgiving. Here, in this place, the love of Jesus calls us together to recognize the gift of priesthood, the gift of faith, and the gift of the Holy Eucharist. These are no ordinary things. Rather, all of them flow from the very heart of God.

In our First Reading, the poor widow at Zerephath lost her son. He died, and she was utterly alone. In her complaint against God, we can understand her pain and loss. Elijah, the man of God, also experiences her pain and prays that God allow the boy to return to his mother. And he does! At this, the woman proclaims her faith in Elijah's word and places her trust in him.

Jesus, too, encounters a poor widow who has also lost her son. Our Lord does basically the same thing – “moved with pity for her” – and the young man is raised from the dead and returned to his mother. All see and come to believe.

This is certainly not ordinary stuff for ordinary times.

Miracles, indeed. Miracles that produce faith and trust in God.

But is that what it takes for faith? Are our lives so ordinary with life and death, love and loss, that it takes extraordinary events to make us aware of the good things around us? Do we really need the “lightning bolt moment” to make us believe that God is present and that He loves us?

Fr. Angel has shown his ability to console and sympathize with those in pain. He has also been moved with pity, showing our Lord’s Heart in his own actions, and this will serve him well in his Priesthood. In a few moments, Fr. Angel will pray over bread and wine and they will become the Body and Blood of Christ! He couldn't do that last week. This is a miracle, and it happens at every Mass - "ordinary" stuff, as far as we Catholics are concerned, but a miracle nonetheless. Do we recognize that? More important: do we believe?

Ordinary time comes upon us at regular intervals in the liturgical year. In fact, most of the year is “ordinary” - like our lives. However, that does not mean that it is devoid of miracles. We only lose our sense of wonder. We get caught up in the extraordinary and miss what's right before us.

John Lennon once sang, "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." He was singing a song to his young son, comforting him and letting him know how much he loved him. These widows in our readings today loved their sons very much, too. I am sure that they had big plans for them. However, as it often goes, it usually isn’t until we lose something or someone that we realize how special they truly are.

Ordinary time is not time to plan for later or to reflect on the past. Certainly, we can look forward and remember fondly. But we should not do so at the expense of the present. “God visits His people,” as the folks in the Gospel say today; and He is here, now.

Today, Fr. Angel’s chalice is a gift from another priest – Fr. Joseph Kitko – whom I knew, and who passed away in 2009. Fr. Joe never knew Angel, but his sister does, and she and Fr. Joe’s family have passed this gift along to Angel – an ordinary act, but an extraordinary gift. Many priests wish that they would inspire more vocations to the priesthood, and they are often thinking of setting dramatic examples for others. However, the gift of a vocation is best passed on in the ordinary actions of faithful living of what God has called you to be. Fr. Angel, you will inspire others to follow a call to priesthood by simply being yourself, by living your vocation joyfully. This is how God called you, and it is how He continues to call others.

The love of God that raised the boy at Zerephath, the compassion that moved Jesus to raise the widow’s son at Nain, the love that gathers us all here today is all the same. It is the presence of God in our midst.

And there is nothing “ordinary” about that.

"Amen!"

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 02 Jun 2013 14:30:00 +0000

I know we don’t do this a lot – or ever – but can I get an “Amen?”

What did we just say? It’s one of those words that people of faith use often, but do we really know what it means to say “Amen?” I don’t just mean what the word “amen” means – most people will say that it means “so be it.” Rather, I wonder if we really know and appreciate what it means to say “amen.”

The word comes to us from the Hebrew and Aramaic (the everyday language of Jesus’ time). Amen carries with it deep connotations of something that is certain, true or dependable. The Hebrew word ěmet is related to âmen and refers to “truth.” In Scripture, especially in the Gospels, when Jesus wants us to know that something is utterly dependable and significant, He often prefaces a statement with “Amen, amen, I say to you…” implying that what he says is more than just fact, but religiously certain.

We don’t get any such phrases today on this Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ – Corpus Christi. However, we do celebrate something that “amen” punctuates rather intrinsically. Think of how we approach the Blessed Sacrament during Communion:

“The Body of Christ.”

Our response: “Amen!”

We don’t say, “Okay.” Or “If you say so.” Or “Thank you.” Or “Praise the Lord.” Or “Thanks be to God.” Or anything like that (and yes, I have heard all of those!). No. We say… Amen!

Can I get an “Amen?”

The Body of Christ – the Sacrament that we honor and celebrate today – is something utterly reliable, something we can depend upon. It is truly the Body and Blood of Christ that we share and consume at this Eucharist. Jesus shares Himself with His Church, and as He is offered to each believer, we respond with a statement of certainty that it is so: “Amen!”

When the Apostles present Christ with the problem of feeding so many tired and hungry people, He doesn’t go into some deep theological discourse – that might come later, but the first order of business is addressing the need. But Jesus is still the Teacher; He is still at work on His disciples. “Give them some food yourselves.” In other words, He asks, “What do you have to offer? What are you willing to give?”

Their response is not a confident one. Their resources are meager – five loaves of bread and two fish. It is a meal to share with one other person, not a feast for thousands. However, even offered such an apparently weak gift, Jesus takes and feeds everyone – and there is more than enough.

Our God does wonders. He is completely dependable in His care for His people. This is why Abram can feel confident in entrusting a tenth of his blessings to God; it is why St. Paul could travel and spread the Gospel across the Mediterranean; it is why we are here now instead of out on a boat or around a pool. We believe that God is good and that we can be confident in His love and care for us!

The Eucharist is that food that lasts to eternal life. It is the nourishment with which we are empowered to take the Word of God from our hearing here out into the world – to become evangelists ourselves. We come with very little in our own eyes. However, God takes our gift of faith and trust and turns it into the means for sharing His glory and strength with others.

In the Blessed Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ, we are given the greatest gift ever offered: the very life of God. Jesus shares this with us because He wants to be with us always, strengthening us and sending us forth to spread His love and life. Our participation at Mass says a lot about how we feel about that charge to preach and share the Gospel.

When you approach the Blessed Sacrament, be ready. Observe the fast. Wash your hands, and if you are receiving Him in the hand, make a suitable throne for the King of kings. Hold those hands out and humbly accept the Son of God into your life again. When the minister pronounces, “The Body of Christ,” respond properly and clearly, “Amen!” And reflect on that gift the rest of the day, as you have just become a living tabernacle of God the Most High!

“Amen!”

We are not just accepting that yes, this is the Body and Blood of Christ. We are affirming the total reliability of the One who gives Himself to us. Yes, we say “Amen,” but we must also live that “Amen” as witnesses to the truth of God’s faithfulness to us.

The Harmony of Faith

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 26 May 2013 12:52:00 +0000

Many of you may familiar with J.R.R. Tolkien’s masterpiece, The Lord of the Rings. Perhaps we have also read The Hobbit. However, there is another of his works that is just as wonderful, composed after he died by his son Christopher. It’s called The Silmarillion, and it is a gorgeous piece of creation myth and epic storytelling in our language.

The creation story is not necessarily Judeo-Christian, however there is a lesson to be gleaned that bears on our celebration today. The book starts with a piece called “The Song of the Holy Ones.” It tells the story of Ilúvatar, “the One,” who is the source of all things. He begets the “Ainur,” or the “Holy Ones,” who are the product of his thought. Each of them is given knowledge of some part of Ilúvatar’s mind and plan, as well as the power to “sing” it into being as it is given life by “the One.”

As Ilúvatar is ready to begin creation, he gives the Holy Ones a vision of his grand scheme of creation and charges them to “sing” their parts of the harmony, as only they can. One of these Holy Ones, Melkor, is the wisest and the most powerful. However, as such, he is very much like a precocious child – impatient and self-willed. He wants to introduce what he believes are his own thoughts to this song, and in so doing he puts forth discordant notes. These affect the harmonies of the others, and Ilúvatar constantly introduces correctives, but the mess begins. At the end of the song, as creation is completed, evil has entered. Melkor is the source of all the nasty inhabitants of Middle-Earth, like the Balrogs, dragons, orcs and even the Dark Lord Sauron himself. These do battle to control the “Children of Ilúvatar” – the Elves and Men.

Today’s feast is a lot about a similar sort of “harmony.” However, this harmony is the perfect harmony of God: the Most Holy Trinity – a union of love of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. We, who are created in God’s image, are called to reflect that same harmony in our relationships with one another; and any form of discord flows from when we behave in selfish, self-serving ways.

However, God continually seeks to correct us – continually seeks to help us to live as more perfect reflections of His glory. Since we are created in the image and likeness of God, we are most God-like when we are united in relationships with one another.

But in order to enter into those relationships, we need to recognize the diversity that exists between one another – that others are “other.” We are not “equal,” in the sense that we all do or can do the same things; however, just as there is perfect unity in the diversity of the Holy Trinity, we find unity in our diversity and produce that harmony that God wills for His children.

Pope Francis mentioned this last week when speaking of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. “The Holy Spirit would appear to create disorder in the Church,” the pope said, “since he brings the diversity of charisms and gifts; yet all this, by his working, is a great source of wealth, for the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of unity, which does not mean uniformity, but which leads everything back to harmony. In the Church, it is the Holy Spirit who creates harmony.”

We are called to this harmony, which must echo the harmony of God Himself: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. We must do it as individuals in relationship, as well as on a global scale. Wars, terrorism, violence, arguments – discord – all of these are against the will of our Most Holy Trinity. We must show forth the perfect love and relationship that is the spark of God within ourselves.

But this is more than a family thing – more than an international thing. It is a local thing. As you all should be aware now, we are working together in Southeast Baltimore County to build up a unified Catholic Community, centered on our shared faith and call to evangelize. We have been given the vision of the great song of faith that we must sing – the Gospel of Jesus Christ – and we all are given a role to play in that. What will you add to this harmony?

We can sing the beautiful sounds of trust in one another, love for God and for one another, and a genuine willingness to grow for the sake of sharing Jesus with others. Or, we can introduce discordant strains that find their origins in distrust, selfishness, and a desire to remain isolated from our Catholic and Christian brothers and sisters.

God, the Father has placed that song in our hearts; the Holy Spirit gives us the breath to sing that song; and the song itself is Jesus Christ, the Son of God. When we sing together, joining our diverse gifts into one harmony, we all can make beautiful music together!

"Good" or "Good Enough?"

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 14:37:00 +0000

Here’s a question for you to consider in your own prayer and reflection this week:

“Am I a good Christian?”

For anyone who takes their faith seriously, this should be a basic question, and I assume the answer that most of us would sincerely give is “Yes.” But let’s think about it for a while. What makes a “good Christian?”

I know what makes a good cook or a good tennis player or a good teacher. Why do I know this? I have criteria that I use to measure these things. So, for the Christian, what are the criteria that mark him or her as “good?”

I consider myself a “good” cook. However, there are times when I am preparing a meal and I go just too far with the ingredients (I never really measure), and the vodka sauce or steaks are no longer “perfect.” However, I do deem them “good enough,” and I finish. Why do I do this? Well, it's usually because I lack either the ingredients or the time to “fix” it, and I am also hungry. So, “good enough” will do.

Do you see where I am going? Are we “good” or more often “good enough?”

Today, Jesus gives us the criteria – or rather, the criterion. In John, this is His only explicit “commandment.” He says, “I give you a new commandment: Love one another. As I have loved you, so must you also love one another.”

Love is the measure.

Why is this a “new commandment,” though? It isn’t as though the disciples didn’t love one another. It’s not that we don’t love one another and other. What is new about the command is not the act itself but the type of love Jesus is commanding. “As I have loved you…” The love of Jesus is self-giving; it is sacrificial; it is unconditional.

This is the measure of the Christian: how do we imitate Christ in our love of one another? We can certainly see this love between husbands and wives and parents and children; but what about those who wear on our nerves, or those who have hurt us? Do we love them, as Christ commands us? If not, can we really call ourselves “good” Christians – or are we merely being “good enough?”

I don’t ask this to indict anyone. God knows, I have my struggles with this too. However, as a faith community – as a Catholic Christian community – we are not served when our members harbor grudges or even hatred against each other. When members of our community throw harsh words back and forth at each other, we are not a “good” Christian community. When we exclude others because they are different, we are not “good” Christians. When we spend more time and effort in pointing out others’ faults than in correcting our own and loving others, we are not “good” Christians.

"But father," some say, "I do so well in so many other areas. This just seems to be my particular cross." If that is true, friends, then we must bear that cross as Jesus did: with love. Jesus reminds us today that we are active advertisements of His love.

The way people will know we are Christians is not in what we say (i.e., “I’m a good Christian”) or in the Rosary hanging from our rear view mirror, or the fish stuck on the bumper, or even the nice Facebook posts that circulate. The way they will know we are Christians, Jesus says, is that we have love for one another. I don’t want you to be “good enough.” We are selling ourselves short if we are. I want you to be like Jesus, who doesn’t just “ask” or “suggest” this to us. He commands us to love one another. So, pray about that this week. Am I a “good” Christian? Take time each day to consider the answer, and God’s grace will pour into your hearts.

And that’s good enough for anyone!

Who is Your Shepherd?

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 13:27:00 +0000

I have two younger brothers, Kevin and Brian. As an oldest brother, it has been a joy for me to watch and reflect on how they have grown into the fine men that they are, but when they we younger it was especially fun to see Brian idolize Kevin. Kevin is six years older than Brian, but Brian always wanted to do what Kevin and his friends were doing. This is typical "little brother" behavior. Kevin was playing baseball; Brian wanted to play. Kevin and his friends traded baseball cards; Brian wanted to as well. They had a comic book club; Brian wanted to belong. In fact, once, Kevin and his friends established a rule to keep Brian out. He had to draw the "Batman" logo to get in. I recall little Brian crying because of this prohibition, and my mother sat him down and drew the logo herself. Kev and his friends had to let him in.

The relationship between brothers is great - a love/hate relationship that, if done right, can lead to great friendship in adulthood (as it has with my brothers and me).

During this past week, I watched like all of you the events in Boston and struggled to make sense of them. As the days went on and we learned more about the suspects, we found out that they, too, we brothers. I am still struck by the grainy, jerky surveillance footage of the older brother walking through the crowd, followed closely by his little brother. In light of this weekend's Gospel, it was a dark parallel to the Shepherd image.

I don't doubt that these brothers loved each other - that there was a tender and committed affection between them, just like my brothers. Without judging their motives, I can totally understand the younger brother's desire to follow his big brother. Unfortunately, he chose a poor shepherd.

That leads me to a question, especially considering this weekend of "Good Shepherd Sunday." Who is your shepherd?

Now, Scripture is full of tender images of shepherds and sheep as a metaphor of God and His guidance of His People. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, who "knows his sheep." "My sheep hear my voice," He says today, "and they follow me." We can dutifully quote the 23rd Psalm and say, "The Lord is my Shepherd, there is nothing I shall want..." and in our Psalm response today we declare, "We are His people, the sheep of His flock."

However, that is almost rote for us. Practically speaking, who is your shepherd?

The shepherd decides when the sheep will get up and go out. He decides where they will graze and where they will not. He keeps them together, and at the end of the day, he decides when they will return home.

What drives us? What decides what we will do? How we act? How we speak? With whom we relate? Is it fashion? Sports? Music? TV? Video games? Restaurants? Fame? Fortune? Comfort?

There are so many shepherds out there vying for our loyalty. So many shepherd, especially, looking for our young people's love - and they follow. We must pray for them; pray for our youth, that they may hear - be able to hear - the voice of the one Shepherd who actually promises life, and life in abundance. The other shepherds might fill a void for a while, but they don't love their sheep.

The young, idealistic bomber in Boston chose his shepherd. He chose poorly, and many people - including himself - have been hurt. That is not life in abundance.

We pray that we - our families, friends, youth and neighbors - may be able to hear the voice of the true Shepherd who leads us to the Father - to that fullness of life that sets us in a pasture of peace.

The "S" Stands for Hope

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 00:45:00 +0000

In June, the newest "Superman" film will open (June 14, for those of you wanting to sit in a movie theater hallway at midnight). While I am not sure I appreciate the proliferation of redone iterations of classic superhero movies (what number "Batman" are we on now? - and didn't the last "SpiderMan" come out, like, just three years after the one before that?), I can accept the fact that these characters are part of our American mythology. Superman is a favorite, and I will go see this one.

However, the idea of the Superman finds its origin in the "Ubermensch" of the atheistic philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche proposed this ideal human being, this superman who rises above all others because of his self-will and ability to create values for himself in a God-less world. Nietzsche, an atheist who posited the "death of God," held the Ubermensch up as the perfect human who fulfills our natural destiny.

All that philosophy aside, Superman has evolved in our "Christian" society as another Christological example. He comes to Earth, having been sent by his father, and would be regarded as a god - but also opposed by evil. He shows humanity our own greatness, though. Watch this latest trailer - and keep your faith switched on - it will speak to you loudly!

His adoptive father tells him that he might spend the rest of his life discovering his purpose - and in this, as in most Christ figures, we should also see ourselves. But as Superman, "he will give the people of Earth an ideal to strive for. They will stumble; they will fall. But in time, they will join him in the sun."

Jesus is more than just some "ideal," though. It is He who makes our greatness possible. We are modeled on Him but the Father. As St. Paul says, "He is before all else that is. All were created through him; all were created for him" (Col 1:17ff). We are all "supermen" (and women!), in Christ. The Father has sent His Son - for us - so that we become adopted sons and daughters in Christ. In time, he will help us accomplish wonders.

Watch Out for Buddy Jesus

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 12:37:00 +0000

The gospel this weekend gives us the charming scene of Jesus and Peter by the sea, wherein Jesus commissions Peter to "Feed my sheep." In that scene, Jesus asks Peter three times "Do you love me?" We read these questions and responses as identical - Jesus asks three times if Peter loves him, as if Jesus isn't really sure or doesn't think Peter is sincere. However, there is a deeper meaning here. First, as Augustine notes, these threefold questions are meant to undo Peter's threefold denial of Christ during the Passion. However, an understanding of the original Greek is helpful in conveying the true point of this selection.

When Jesus asks Peter "Do you love me?" the first two times, he uses a form of the Greek word agape. This is the Gospel sense of love, which implies a love that suffers for another, that gives of itself for others. This is the love of Christ, the love of God. Peter, however, in responding "You know that I love you" does not answer with that same word, agape. Rather, he uses another Greek word for love, phileo. While this means "love" technically, it is not the same connotation as agape. This is brotherly love, or the love of friendship. Peter, clearly, is not ready for that self-sacrificing love; but, as Jesus notes, he will be. So, the third time Jesus asks "Do you love me?" he uses Peter's phileo. Perhaps it is this condescension that truly hurts Peter's feelings, rather than the fact that Jesus asked again.

This play on the word "love" is helpful for us as disciples. Clearly, Jesus wants agape from His followers. The phileo of Peter is akin to a guy slugging his buddy on the arm and saying, "I love you, man!" It is affection, but not committed affection. In a sense, Peter is referring to "Buddy Jesus." He is nice to have around, but when he starts raiding your fridge you might want Him to leave for a while.

Jesus doesn't want to be our Buddy; He wants to be our Beloved. This exchange with Peter indicates that he will accept the former, but only with the hope - the Godly hope - that we grow in that love and become truly committed disciples, grounded in self-giving Love.

Jesus knows that Peter will grow like this. As he describes what the future holds for His dear friend, He is describing Peter's ultimate witness of love, by which "he would glorify God."

So, hang on to "Buddy Jesus." But realize that while He hangs out with you, He will be asking for things - for sacrifices - for Love. And He knows that this relationship with worth being kept at arm's distance for a while, even as we punch Him and say, "I love you, man." He will respond, "I know. Now let's order some pizza.

"And you're paying."

Look at Us

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 14:35:00 +0000

The Acts of the Apostles details the growth of the Church following the Ascension and Pentecost, and we read from this book every day of the Easter season. It's worth our attention - and a good practice for the Easter season would be to prayerfully read the entire book - come on, you have fifty days!

Today, Peter and John are seen going to the Temple to pray. They encounter a man who is crippled and begging near the door. It's a common scene in any big city: the poor, homeless, unemployed, down-trodden, asking for spare change. We can probably place ourselves in Peter and John's sandals today. But Peter doesn't have any money. I find myself in the same situation often, and when at an intersection, I sheepishly shrug when the poor come to my window.

But, rather than a shrug or money carelessly tossed in the man's direction, Peter does something different. He looks intently at him talks to him.

"Look at us," he says.

And the man "paid attention to him." Then - and only then - does he receive what he truly needs: healing and wholeness. And it all started with two people paying attention to one another.

Here is our lesson in discipleship. Perhaps we are not blessed with the means to financially assist those in need around us. However, all of us have been given the gift of relationally. When we encounter those poor, down-trodden and marginalized in our days, we don't need to see them as uncomfortable interruptions to our trips. Rather, smile. Say hello.

Notice them!

It's God who can give them what they need - not us. And in connecting, even for a brief moment, we show forth the light of a disciple, and that blessing is always returned.

"He is Not Here. He has Been Raised"

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 31 Mar 2013 11:39:00 +0000

Regardless of which year we are in, all the Gospels for this Easter Vigil contain two identical phrases. These two phrases are key to our life as Christians. I’ll start with the second one first:

“He has been raised.”

This is the original Easter message: “Christ is risen!” And this is what Christians from that first Easter morning, beginning with these women, have proclaimed to the ends of the earth. The One who suffered and died on the Cross for our sins, the One who took on Himself all that we are in our humanity, the One who was laid in the tomb and sealed with the stone – He is risen! Alleluia!

The joy of Easter consists in the fact that with the Resurrection of Jesus, our hope for eternal life now dawns. We, too, are called to this resurrection; and, in fact, we already share in it through our Baptism. As Saint Paul boldly proclaims in the Epistle, “We who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death. … so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might have newness of life.”

Tonight, two of our members will enter those waters of Baptism and become that new creation – not only sharing Christ’s death but sharing His Resurrection as well. In the Sacrament of Confirmation that we will then celebrate with our candidates, the Holy Spirit will seal them – as we have been – to then go forth and proclaim the Risen Lord to the world.

“He has been raised.”

This Easter proclamation should echo forever in the ears of every Christian – that sin and death, so prevalent in our world, so consuming in their power to frighten, these no longer bear the power to control us again. When life feels difficult and unbearable, and we think that there is no hope left, we hear it: “He has been raised!” When our communities are in turmoil, and violence, drugs and disillusion seem the order of the day, we hear it: “He has been raised!” When the world appears to be at its end, with nation rising against nation, the poor are ignored, and innocents suffer unjustly, we know this is not the end: “He has been raised!”

This is our Easter mantra – this is what gets the Christian – the disciple – out of bed in the morning and what drives them through the day. For we cannot rest until we know that others know that simple, good news: “He has been raised!”

The second phrase that the gospels share is a little less exciting, on the surface:

“He is not here.”

That’s right! He is not here!

The One whom the women sought to anoint and mourn was gone. The first sign of Easter for them was not a colored egg or a cute bunny. It was an empty tomb.

And what was their response? They ran to the others to share that news – as new Easter disciples, they brought the news to the bewildered Apostles: “He is not here; he is risen!”

The news seemed like “nonsense” to the others, but Peter reacts to their announcement by running to see for himself. What joy animated these women that they ran back to us? What on earth has happened now? Could it be true?

And at the tomb, Peter sees for himself: “He is not here.”

Brothers and sisters, Jesus Christ is risen today! Our victory over sin and death is won. We are now made disciples with a definite mission: share this news with the world.

He may not be here, but we are! His life now animates us, and where we are, He is too! This is the mystery of the Church – the presence of Christ, shared by His disciples wherever we gather to proclaim Him. Where will you proclaim that news today?

As a family, gathered at your Easter feasts, proclaim it together: “Christ is risen! He is truly risen!” Let the way we live show forth the fact that we believe the message we celebrate. That is the mark of the disciple. When we proclaim that Christ is alive, that He is not there in the tomb but risen, we remind others that there is more to this life than meets the eye. We share the light of Christ – as we do this night – and that light is never dimmed, even when shared with all. God is at work, even in the most desperate of times, and He transforms emptiness into the fullness of joy.

Tonight, on this holy night, we are happy witnesses of an empty tomb. But that emptiness is not a mark of absence, as if Christ abandoned us. Rather, it is a reminder that the tomb cannot hold the life that God gives – the life we receive here, now. May we live that life to the fullest, and proudly proclaim that Easter message: “He is not here. He is risen!”

Alleluia!

Witness

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 22:54:00 +0000

While we are rightly focused on what happens to Jesus today, He Himself turns the question on to us:

“Ask those who heard me what I said to them. They know what I said.”

It may seem like a simple response of Jesus during His trial, but there is a powerful implication in it: we have some answering to do as well.

To claim Christ as our Messiah and Lord – which is the proper response to hearing what He says to us – we must be willing to stand up and be counted among His own. What have we heard and seen? Can we do the same?

The Passion of the Lord, which we just heard proclaimed, includes a judicial process – a trial – which is featured rather prominently. Jesus is on trial – as are His teachings. Here, before us, Jesus is the witness. In Greek, the word is martyrion, whence we get “martyr.”

In light of Jesus’ trial – and, in particular, in light of His suggestion that His questioners as those who heard Him – what sort of witnesses are we?

Are we like Judas, who was lost, failed to understand Christ, and ultimately despaired?

Are we like Peter, who eventually fell silent and cowardly denied Jesus?

Are we like the beloved disciple, who needed to be near Christ and followed Him into the high priest’s house?

Are we like His Mother Mary, who compassionately and faithfully shared in the suffering of Her Son?

As Christians – as disciples – the Cross stands at the intersection of our life with God and our life with others. It is there – in the Cross – that our witness is made too, just like Jesus. This is His ultimate “hour,” and it is ours.

Yes, this witness can involve pain, sacrifice and suffering; but this is the way of the disciple. Our witness must flow from Jesus and what we have seen and heard.

Paying Attention

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 23:48:00 +0000

We begin the Easter Triduum this evening with this Mass of the Lord’s Supper. The Triduum refers to the three days – Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday through the Easter Vigil – that are liturgically celebrated as one day. It is helpful, then, for us to view these three liturgies as one and see a focus in what they are calling us toward. This year, I want to focus on their call to discipleship.

And in discipleship, there is a cost.

Tonight, as we commemorate Jesus’ Last Supper and His gift of the Priesthood and the Eucharist, we learn of the central role of service in our walk of faith. This is no mere “doing-good-stuff”; rather, these are examples that are meant to be “handed on.

Our First Reading recalls the Passover, where God spared the Israelites and led them to freedom from slavery. They are meant to remember this – as our Jewish sisters and brothers are doing now – and to pass on this memory to future generations.

Saint Paul, in the Second Reading, “hands on” the mystery of the Eucharist, which he himself had received from others. This new Covenant in Christ’s Blood frees us from sin, and every time we celebrate it we proclaim that Jesus is Lord.

Finally, in the Gospel, Jesus gives us an “example to follow,” that what He does we also do.

These days stand at the root of Christianity and are reminders to us. What we believe and celebrate are not personal or private possessions, but are meant to be shared. Therefore, Jesus gives us visible signs as ways of passing on His example to others.

Only witness is credible. Jesus knows this; the great saints knew this. Therefore, service must be visible as an example and not as a “show.”

In our celebration this evening, we receive two great gifts from Jesus: the Priesthood and the Eucharist. However, John the Evangelist doesn’t really show us either in the gospel we just heard! Rather, we see Jesus washing His disciples’ feet.

The message is clear: discipleship demands service. It is outward love and care for others. John sets the stage as he writes, “He loved them to the end."

As Christians, we cannot be passive observers of the mysteries we celebrate. Otherwise, we cannot be true disciples. Our celebration of the mysteries of this Triduum – the gifts of the Priesthood and Eucharist, the sacrifice of Calvary, Christ’s descent among the dead, and His Resurrection – demands that we then act of what we see and hear.

In a few moments, I, your pastor, your shepherd, will kneel and wash the feet of some of our fellow parishioners. This is supposed to be an act of humility and love – and it is. However, it is done again as a reminder of what Jesus does for us: “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you also should do.”

It is our privilege to gather this evening and remember that night. It is our privilege to share in the Eucharist that Jesus offers us, in commemoration of His saving sacrifice for us. We are that Body of Christ, formed by the Body of Christ; and we are sent forth to put into action the gifts we celebrate now – because we are disciples.

As disciples, our focus must be on Jesus – watching what He does, remembering His example, and then doing what He did.

Depression

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 12:42:00 +0000

Five and a half years ago I was diagnosed with depression. It was a difficult and scary time in my personal life, and after several months of sleeplessness, inability to eat, and crying for no reason, I talked with my doctor. Now, I am medicated for it, and pretty mud under control. However, there are still some times - ups and downs - that creep in. Generally, these can be indications that I am not exercising enough, or I am too busy or stressed, or I just haven't seen the sun in a while.

Depression is a medical condition - usually the result of some chemical imbalance - and there are treatments for it. It's more than just feeling sad for a good reason, like the death of a loved one or listening to too many Morrissey songs. The feelings are paralyzing, and there can also be a vague physical pain as well.

Strangely, I have gone through these ups and downs myself - not as dramatic as before I was diagnosed, but difficult nevertheless. As a minister, as a priest, depression can be hard because there is an expectation of us to be "on" - greeting folks before and after Mass, celebrating the wonderful mysteries of God's love, and reminding others of the hope that our faith affords.

Depression is a demon.

Now, this does not absolve anyone suffering from it from seeking professional medical help - in fact, that is necessary, even obligatory. However, for people of faith, I think you'd understand what I mean when I say there is a real spiritual element here too. Prayer is very helpful for me - and not just my own, but those of the People of God. Many, many people suffer with depression - I am no different from them, and I am certainly no sort of hero for admitting my own. However, there is a real strength that comes from knowing that others share your burden too. Depression can isolate you and make you feel so alone that you feel there is no way out. That is the diabolic nature of the disease.

For people of faith - even for priests! - there can be a sense of guilt that comes with feelings of depression: "After all, God loves me - why doesn't that make me happy?" "Am I not aware of the love of those around me?" "What's wrong with me?!" But that is exactly what the devil wants us to think. This is not an issue of faith; it's medical, physical.

If you do suffer from depression, know that you are not alone. You are not "faulty" or defective. You are human and subject to all the difficulties and sufferings that the Fall has brought on us all. This is your cross. Seek help. Seek prayer. Seek God (He seeks you).

Today's Office of Readings offers me a great comfort. In the Letter to the Hebrews we read:

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin. So let us confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help (Heb 4:14-16).

Christ shares our burdens. When we are too weak or broken to carry them, He holds us up. May God bless us in our weakness so that His strength may shine through and be a light to others.

**************************************

There are resources on the Internet for exploring help, although talking with your personal physician or doctor is probably the best way to begin - so don't wait.

nami.org

Mayo clinic

Depression and families

Ministers and depression

Don't Miss the Forest for the Palms

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 25 Mar 2013 13:50:00 +0000

What do you do with your palm? You know, the ones you get today and take home? I’ve seen various uses:

Some people braid them very beautifully (certainly, though, not during Mass!)
Some do an origami-esque trick to shape them into crosses
Some tie them around their rear-view mirrors in their cars
Some take them home and set them behind a holy image or picture

There’s no “right” thing to do with them – they are “sacramentals” – objects used to remind us of faith and of some aspect of it.

What did those folks on that first “Palm Sunday” do with theirs, though? Sure, they lined the streets of Jerusalem with them as a “royal carpet” for Jesus in His triumphant entry into the city. They waved them in glad adoration as they proclaimed Him “the one who comes in the name of the Lord,” and echoed the song of the Christmas angles: “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”

However, they left those palms there.

A few short days later, that same Lord was dragged through the same streets after His arrest (did He notice the trampled palms?); He was led, beaten and bruised, through the streets again to the place of His crucifixion – thrown out of the same city He enters so triumphantly today.

The palms meant nothing more to the people.

So, what do we do?

We remember.

Jesus offers us a choice, as He comes among us – He, who shared the same suffering and death as two thieves. We can respond in one of two ways. Like the first thief, we can seek Him to take away our suffering and make everything OK so we don’t have to deal with pain and difficulty, and mock Him when we don’t get what we want; or, like the good thief, we can recognize our Lord in the midst of those sufferings – redeeming us!

We will take these palms home today, probably. We can use them in a variety of ways. However, my prayer is that each time you see them, they are reminders of the Lord whom they acclaim; of the sacrifice He offers for you; of the salvation we share in His name.

There is a fine line, it seems, between the “Hosannas” and the “Crucify Hims!” However, we walk that line, with the Lord, aware that He alone gives us the balance to stand.

The Divine Amateur

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 17:18:00 +0000

When I was a kid I had lots of Star Wars action figures – Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Han Solo, Princess Leia, C-3PO, R2-D2 – I even had the play sets and vehicles – X-Wing fighters, the Millennium Falcon, and the Death Star. These were part of the backdrop of my childhood. I would tie the figures to sticks and throw them, crash the ships into trees and dirt – I played hard.

A few years ago, I came across a website that was for Star Wars buffs, and they had a link to the collectables, including the action figures. I saw many of the same guys I had as a kid. They were worth a lot of money now.

But there was a catch – the “collector’s catch.”

“Original packaging.”

If the figures were in their original packaging – i.e., unopened – then they were worth upward of $100 and more! In the condition of my poor guys, whom I had loved and played with hard, they were worth less than a dollar, usually.

Original packaging.

That’s the difference between a collector and a kid – or better, between a professional and an amateur.

But, do you know where the word “amateur” comes from? It comes to us in English from the French, meaning “lover.” Often, we use the word, “amateur,” to denote someone who has not done a good or perfect job at something. However, strictly speaking, an amateur is someone who does something simply because they love it.

In the Gospel today, we see a great contrast between the religious “professionals” and the “amateur” Jesus. Here they are, having captured this woman in the very act of adultery – they busted her – and now, they drag her into the square and toss her, embarrassed, in front of the Lord. Never mind where the man went!

Professionals are trained. Professionals are perfectionists – intent on finding flaws and fault in the performance of others. Here, these men point out the woman’s fault: she is an adulteress. They saw her; they know. What’s more, they know the Law: “Moses commanded us to stone such women.” Now, they want the opinion of the “wise and perfect Teacher.”

But what does Jesus do? He stoops down and draws in the dirt – as if their question doesn’t interest him. The men want an answer, and they keep pressing the “amateur” Lord. “We’ve got him!” they think. “Look: he can’t even face us!”

Finally, Jesus rises and gives His answer: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Bam! Game over! Was this beginner’s luck for our amateur Jesus? Or did He just show them – and us – the true point of the Law?

The men who brought the woman out to Jesus didn’t care about her – who she was; they didn’t really care about what she did – although they knew it was sinful and worthy of punishment. She was, for them, simply a tool – an object – without dignity of her own. The punishment would not have helped anyone, but that wasn’t their aim.

Jesus, on the other hand, saw the woman, and as the Divine Amateur, He loved her. His response puts everything in perspective. We all need mercy and the love of God. We are all sinners.

In the weeks ahead, as folks return to church for Palm Sunday and Easter, we can look at them with jaded eyes and ask where they have been all year. But that would be falling into the same trap that the men in today’s gospel did. Do we love those people? Are we welcoming them with God’s love?

I want our church to be a church full of amateur Christians! Christains who are so because we love it – not because we are perfect or professional, but because we are loved by an Amateur God and we love Him in return. The seats that our brothers and sisters will fill next week belong to them as well! May we welcome them; make room for them; love them! As we enter these holiest of days, may we all strive to be amateurs – and see how God turns us into perfect images of His Son’s love.

Ad Juvenes...

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 15:13:00 +0000

Pope Francis addressed the Cardinals today, recognizing their challenge - and their duty - to the Young Church:

Dear Brothers, be strong! Half of us are in old age: old age is - at least I like to say - the seat of wisdom. Old people have the wisdom of having walked the road of life, as the old man Simeon, the old woman Anna at the Temple. And precisely because of that wisdom did they recognize Jesus. Let us give this wisdom to the young people: as good wine, which over the years becomes even better, we give young people the knowledge of life. I am reminded of what a German poet of old said: "Es ist ruhig, das Alter und fromm": ["Old age] is a time of peace and prayer." And so give this wisdom to young people. You will now return in your dioceses to continue your ministry, enriched by the experience of these days, so full of faith and of ecclesial communion. This unique and incomparable [experience], has allowed us to understand in depth the beauty of the Church, which is a reflection of the splendor of the Risen Christ: one day, may we look upon that beautiful face of the Risen Christ!

Disciples Have Some Walking to Do - With Christ

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 01:55:00 +0000

When we walk without the Cross, when we build without the Cross and when we profess Christ without the Cross, we are not disciples of the Lord; we are worldly - we are Bishops, Priests, Cardinals, Popes, but not disciples of the Lord.

I wish that all [of us], after these days of grace, have the courage to walk in the Lord's presence, with the Cross of the Lord, to build the Church on the Blood of the Lord, which is shed on the Cross, and to confess the only glory: Christ Crucified. And so the Church will go on.

- Pope Francis

Homily, Sistine Chapel, March 14, 2013

"The Bishop Works"

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 03 Mar 2013 15:00:00 +0000

One of the nominees for “Best Picture” this year was the cinematic rendering of the musical production of Les Misérables. That story is one of the greatest tales of redemption in literature. In Victor Hugo’s novel, there is much attention given to a rather minor character in the musical – the Bishop of Digne. In fact, most of the first book of the novel is about this kind and saintly bishop, whom people knew as “Monsigneur Bienvenu” (“Bishop Welcome”).

In the story, the central character, Jean Valjean, after release from prison, finds himself in the company of the good bishop, who offers him lodging for the night. During the night, Valjean, convinced that he is now and forever a hardened criminal and a thief, steals silverware from the house and flees. The next day, Valjean is captured and returned to the bishop for accusation and re-arrest. However, the bishop sees more – he sees an opportunity for Valjean – an opportunity for salvation.

Taking two silver candlesticks from his mantle, he hands the treasures to the thief, telling him that he had forgotten to take them also. Valjean is shocked; the guards are confused; the bishop smiles. After the police leave, the bishop reminds Valjean that this is no ordinary gift. He is to now go and be an honest man. He tells him,

“Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God.”

And, well, you know the rest. (If not, it is worth the musical, movie or book version of this classic tale!).

Redemption.

Salvation.

Grace.

That is what we’re talking about here.

In the gospel, Jesus tells a parable about a doomed fig tree. The owner has had enough of its barrenness. He is ready to cast it out. However, the gardener intercedes for it, promising to care for it and help it. If after that it cannot produce, then it can be cast aside.

He redeems the tree.

Jesus is that gardener. God is the owner. His intervention is grace and the redemption of what God has created for good. And this neat little parable offers us a reminder of what happens in our Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Here, we are under the weight of sin, which keeps us from bearing the fruit that God intends in our lives. “The wages of sin is death,” as St. Paul says elsewhere. However, through the sacrament, we receive the forgiveness of sins and absolution from God, through the intervention of Jesus Christ, whose death and resurrection make this reconciliation possible.

When we celebrate the Sacrament of Reconciliation, we don’t do so to be reminded how bad we are. Rather, we do it to be reminded of how good God is. Thank about it: we know ourselves well; we know our failures, our brokenness and our sins. These might fill us with shame, fear and doubt. Of course, God is a forgiving God, but He is also just. Therefore, we know what our sins “deserve.” However, as we enter the sacrament and acknowledge that we are fruitless and broken, God reminds us – through the priest – of the lengths to which He will go to bring us back. “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to Himself, and sent the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins…”

The gardener has intervened. Jesus has redeemed us. In the words of absolution from the priest, we hear that beautiful message again. We should never tire of hearing it. It is as if we are Jean Valjean, and the bishop has just handed us his silver candlesticks. And what are candlesticks for? For carrying light, of course. Now, forgiven and absolved, we return to our lives changed – changed by the mercy of God, to live fully for Him.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation is an important part of our lives as Catholic Christians, because the mercy of God is central to our relationship with Him. It’s not about the priest; it’s about you, and God.

The chapter of Les Miz that describes that scene that I began with is entitled, “The Bishop Works.” It’s all about that life-changing moment when Valjean was redeemed by a pair of candlesticks. They are an integral part of the hero’s story.

The sacraments could also be called “God Works.” They, and especially Reconciliation, are moments of encounter with God that are life changing. From those moments, we rise again and carry our light to the rest of the world – forgiven, blessed, and changed for good.

Shining Through

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 25 Feb 2013 01:32:00 +0000

Imagine the scene:

Jesus, having brought His three closest disciples with Him to pray on the mountain, is suddenly transfigured – His face shining brilliantly, His clothing bright as light. Moses, the great lawgiver and Elijah, the powerful prophet, are on either side of Him. They spoke of the fulfillment of Jesus’ mission in Jerusalem.

“Finally!,” the Apostles might have thought. “Now, we see Him as Lord and Messiah!”

After that scene passes, Peter is the first to respond with his brilliant idea.

“Let’s make three tents.”

Really, Peter? Tents?

Even the evangelist, Luke, comments that “he did not know what he was saying.”

So what was Peter thinking? Somehow, he wanted to honor our Lord and remember this event. He wanted to share with others what he was coming to realize – that Jesus is the Messiah that everyone was waiting for. The tents might even make great tourist attractions!

But it wasn’t to be. Jesus knew that Peter and the disciples did not yet fully understand Him. He knew that if Peter and the boys build those tents, they would just be their tents – earthly reminders of their earthly hopes and ambitions – to be associated with the Messiah.

What sort of place could they have built for the glory of the Lord? No. Those dwellings would have to wait until they were truly Jesus’ dwellings. No matter how wonderful our spiritual experiences, they are moments in our lives that we must move on from.

We are on a journey – just as we journey with Christ this Lent. Peter didn’t know what he was talking about, but Jesus does. After the wonderful experience of the Transfiguration on the mountain, they must return down and continue the journey – a difficult journey that was to culminate in the Passion of Jesus.

This Lent is about preparing for Easter – both to celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord and to remember that this glory is ours as well. Therefore, on this journey, we seek to get our dwellings in order. Jesus wouldn’t let Peter set up dwellings because they were not meant to rest there. God still has work to do.

Our readings today all speak of dwellings – but not just our dwellings. More importantly, they are about the dwelling places that God wants. The gospel offers a couple good lessons for us, who are still on that journey, looking for a dwelling place.

First, Jesus invites the apostles – and us – to intimate prayer with Him. Often in the Gospel, we hear about Christ “going off by Himself” to pray. This time, we are privileged to be there with Him. We must make time to pray, because in prayer, we unite ourselves most clearly with God. When Jesus does this today, we see Him transfigured (I wonder if this happened every time He prayed, and only here do we get to see it?). This is because He is God and in that union, His glory cannot help but shine through. For us, in prayer, we taste the intimacy of God’s desire for us.

Saint Alphonsus Ligouri once said, “Paradise for God is the human heart.” That is where He wishes to dwell for eternity. For God, “heaven” is our heart. So, we look at this dwelling and ask ourselves, “Is it ready for God?” Would God feel welcome here? This is the second lesson. We are not responsible for building tents or reminders to other of how we experience God. We must only show the effects of that encounter. For Peter and the others, this means continuing to walk with Christ, no matter how difficult the journey. There is glory awaiting us too.

Finally, we learn from the gospel that our faith is active. Jesus does not rest there in that wonderful spiritual experience. Rather, He takes the apostles and continues His journey toward Jerusalem. Spiritual experiences are great, and we all need them; however, we cannot make idols out of them. This was Peter’s mistake here, as his “mind is occupied with earthly things,” as the Second Reading warns.

Many people will say that they are “spiritual but not religious.” This is okay, but it misses out on the fullness of our faith experience. Religion helps provide a context within which to process that spiritual experience (if, indeed, that is what they experience). Faith in Christ allows us to see this moment of glory and be strengthened for the reality of living our faith in the midst of trial and difficulty.

So, forget about the tents, Peter. Let God build His own dwelling. And He wishes to set it up right here – in our hearts. That’s the greatest ecstasy that He can imagine; it’s what He is longing for. In this Eucharist, Jesus comes to us and dwells within – opening our hearts again to the presence of His love and life.

During this Lent, we have the opportunity to help make that dwelling the bet it can be for Him, so that at Easter, the glory of our new life can shine through all the brighter.

Reflecting on Integrity

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 15:23:00 +0000

In 1998, Walt Disney Pictures released Mulan. It was a story of a young girl in China, who is struggling to learn who she is meant to be. Early in the movie, Mulan is being presented to the town’s Matchmaker, who will determine her suitability as a potential wife. The girl is washed and dressed and covered with make-up for the big day. All the while, Mulan is not sure she wants to go through with the ritual. She sees something else for her future – even if she is not sure what that will be.

After a disastrous encounter, she returns home and looks at her reflection. Who is she? She wonders? How can she show that adequately? She sings a song whose refrain goes like this:

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight Back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don't know?
Somehow I cannot hide
Who I am
Though I've tried
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?

Mulan is talking about integrity – that quality where our outside fully reveals our interior conviction – who we are.

As we enter Lent, this is a fitting thing to consider for ourselves as Christians. Who are we? Do we really show who we are inside, or has that image been marred by sin, compromise and brokenness? If we worry that this is too difficult, let’s be encouraged by the fact that Jesus Himself struggled with the same questions.

After forty days of soul-searching, prayer and fasting in the desert, Jesus then encounters Satan, who tempts him. The devil, however, is motivated in his questions – and pay attention, because these are the same questions he hits us with as well.

“If you are the Son of God…”

“If you are who you say you are, then let’s see some proof.” Jesus resists these temptations, because He knows who He is and what is mission is. His time of prayer, fasting and reflection has shown Him the Father’s will for Him, and He is now ready to get to work.

Lent is seen as an active time for us who take upon ourselves works of prayer, fasting and almsgiving. However, above all it should be a time of self-reflection with God. If we are who we say we are – “Christians,” “good people,” trying to follow Jesus – then our actions, our whole lives should bear that out. Is that the case now, or do we have some work to do? Now is the time!

Some years back, the Papal Nuncio (or ambassador) to the United States was Archbishop Piero Sambi – a good and holy man, not to mention a very smart guy as well. He was asked to assess the situation of the Church in the United States, which he noted was a minority situation. He said this:

When you are a minority, as Catholics are in this culture, you need three strong principles. The first is a clear identity, a clear sense of what you are and what you want to be. As a minority, if you lack a clear identity, you're like a drop of wine in a glass of water … you'll disappear. The second thing is a strong sense of belonging. I would express it in this way: you need a community, and the community needs you. Whoever walks alone sooner or later will be lost in the desert. Third, when you are a minority, you need a deep commitment to excellence. You must excel in human qualities, in family qualities, in professional qualities, in the qualities of Christian life, in order to be a light for others. If you don't have a sense of excellence, you will be submerged by the majority.

When you have these three qualities … then you're ready to collaborate with everybody, ready to engage yourself for a better humanity and a better future."

Here, we gather as we always do to celebrate Mass – as a community of faith, centered on Jesus in the Word and the Eucharist. We belong to Christ, and we belong to one another! That is communion. Remembering who we are, then, allows us to challenge ourselves to be the best versions of ourselves we can be – to live with integrity.

In our First Reading, the Israelites are reminded how they are to approach their worship in community – aware of who they are and where they have been. “My father was a wandering Aramean…and became a great nation.” They are to always remember what God has done for them, or their worship is pointless.

As we enter this holy season of reflection, let’s take up the challenge of allowing ourselves to be our best. If we belong to Christ, allow Him to take hold of our hearts and guide us through this Lenten desert to the glory of Easter.

First, we must confront those things that keep us from fully loving God and each other. We should gather frequently as a community of faith and encourage one another with our values and the comfort of faith. Finally, we can know the great things of which we are capable, because God makes us capable of them.

In these ways, as we journey with Jesus, we can look at our own reflection and see what God has created: children called to holiness, meant to change the world.

The Most Important Vocation

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 12:39:00 +0000

“Love is not a bottle of Coca-Cola.”

If I have a bottle of Coke, and then I share half of it with you, then I am left with half a Coke.

But love is not a bottle of Coke. If I share my love with you, I am no less empty of love than when I started. In fact, love is one of those things that actually grows when it is shared – it’s a paradox.

Today, as we celebrate the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, we enter back into “Ordinary Time.” We also enter what the Church has recently begun referring to as “Vocations Awareness Week.” Here, in His baptism, Jesus’ public ministry begins, and we are called to become more aware of our own vocations – our missions in life.

But what is the greatest vocation? Which is the most important? I am sure you expect that my response to that would be, “It depends.” However, there is a definite, Church-sanctioned answer to that question. So, which is the most important vocation?

As today we recall the event of Jesus’ baptism, it is helpful, first, to consider our own. Often, Baptism is seen as a quaint rite of passage for a baby or child – yet another moment of celebration that we attach to the births of our children. However, it is so much more than that. What Baptism imparts is the precious gift of Eternal Life; it all begins here for us. It does not start at our death, as people often will say, “She has now entered into eternal life.” No! She entered eternal life when she was baptized! Each one of us here who have been baptized are, right now, living out our eternal lives.

I’ll let that thought sink in.

So, here we are, living our eternal lives because of our baptisms. Since that destiny is now eternal, there is now a call that goes along with that life – a vocation – the most important vocation, in fact.

The Church teaches that we are each called by God to holiness by virtue of our baptism. And this is our shared vocation: Holiness. We call this the “Universal Call to Holiness,” and we are charged with being signs of God’s holiness in our world. Through our baptism – whether we were dunked, dipped or dribbled – we are conformed to Christ, incorporated into His Body, the Church, and washed of our sins, so that we can fully embrace that destiny.

All our other vocations flow from this initial call – be we called to marriage, consecrated life, ordination or single life. First comes Baptism.

Let me get back to that bottle of Coke – or rather, the love that is not like it. If I pour out my Coke, I am necessarily left with less. Not so, however, with my love – which itself is a reflection of God’s love. When I love fully, I am fully charged with that Love. In our lives, when we give of ourselves – which is a great analogy for any vocation – we are, in turn, filled with life. Thus, “Giving Life is Life-Giving.”

In the following weekends, we will be sharing in our homilies reflections on the various vocations that we can live our in response to God’s call to give life. Next week, we will discuss Matrimony; then the call to service as a Deacon; at the start of February we will share about the call of Consecrated Life; and we will wrap up the series with the call to Priesthood. I hope you can join us and bring family and friends, since this should be an enlightening series for us all.

As Jesus was baptized in the Jordan, He was not washed of sins as we are in Baptism. However, He is recognized for Who He truly is – Who God calls Him to be: “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well-pleased.”

We, too, have been recognized by God. Our call to holiness now drives us to give of ourselves in a special way that does not deplete us, but rather helps us to be the persons whom God intends us to be. So we reflect on this first vocation of ours – our shared vocation to be people of holiness, reflecting the very holiness of God the Father to others in our world

Long ago (or not so long ago, as the case may be), we entered those waters of Baptism, where we died to sin with Christ and rose with Him to eternal life. Now, our call is to a life of holiness, made possible by the grace of God. Each time we dip our finger into that holy water font, we should be reminded of that fact. We are all God’s beloved children, with whom He is well pleased!

Holy Family: Little, Broken - and Still Good!

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 30 Dec 2012 18:11:00 +0000

Several years ago, Disney offered a film called “Lilo and Stitch.” Stitch is an alien who crashes on Earth, in Hawaii, and is assumed to be some sort of dog. He ends up in a shelter and is soon adopted by Lilo and her older sister. Lilo and her sister’s parents have been killed in a car accident, and the two of them are on their own together.

After some little adventures, Lilo and Stitch become great friends, and the little alien learns much about life and love on Planet Earth. Eventually, aliens pursue Stitch from his home world, and they mean to return him home. At the end, there is a beautiful scene where Stitch asks to say goodbye to Lilo and her sister. “Who are they?” the alien asks.

Stitch responds, “This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It’s little, and broken; but still good. Yeah. Still good.”

Here on this Sunday in the Octave of Christmas, we celebrate the Feast of the Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph – the Holy Family. Jesus, the Son of God; Mary, a girl who conceived “miraculously,” with no earthly explanation; and Joseph, a man who was promised to a virgin who now was a mother of a child that was not his own.

It’s a little family – certainly not conventional, some might even say "broken" – but a family nevertheless. And certainly good.

In these days after Christmas, it is good for us to reflect on the Holy Family and to pray for our own. During the holiday season, many of us gather with our families – our biological relatives, our friends, and those whom we choose to be near. It is a time for family, however they are expressed. None of them are perfect. Many of them are broken. But it is into exactly this sort of unit that God chose to come and be raised as a man.

Certainly, we have our own family issues: estrangement, codependency, dysfunction, arguments, et cetera. Today, we hear that Mary and Joseph had their own with Jesus, as they search all over for their lost boy, only to find him hanging out in “his Father’s house.” Any parent can imagine the eye-rolling and lip-biting that probably went on in Joseph and Mary.

But, it was still good.

Many times, we with “broken” families look to others and compare ourselves. Sometimes that might make us feel inadequate, self-conscious or resentful of that brokenness. However, the good news of this feast is that God looks at our families in much the same way that Stitch saw the one he found – “little, and broken, but still good.”

Even in that brokenness, we can make our own families places of holiness. The readings give us some direction for this. First, we must make our families places of prayer. Pray with your families; teach your children to pray - our loud, deliberately, as specific times. They will not be people of prayer unless they learn from their parents. Bring them to Mass with you - regardless of how obnoxious or disruptive you may think they will be. Jesus asked that just such as these "come to Him."

Second, the family should be a place of gratitude for one another. All is gift, or as St. Therese of Lisieux said, “All is grace.” When we see our relationships as gifts to one another, our families can grow strong – as Jesus did, “in wisdom and grace.” Then, in our families, we can learn how to relate to others – to be gifts to others. A strong family can bring about a strong society, grounded in gratitude for one another and respect for others. Even Hannah, in the first reading today, recognized that the child she prayed all those years for was a gift from God, and she offered him back to God. She did not cling selfishly to him but allowed God's will to be done.

Finally, the family must be a place of love, which leads to “heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another.” A family cannot be holy without love; and forgiveness helps to make that family strong, even in brokenness.

There are many ways to be a family. There are many sizes of families. There are “big, fat, Greek” families; there are little and broken families; but they are families nonetheless. We gather here as another sort of family – a family of faith, centered on Jesus, who chose to be born into a family like ours.

We may be little at times; we may be broken often; be we are still good in God’s eyes, and worth that greatest Gift of His love. Today, we pray for our family and for our families. May God help us to be strong in love and grateful in our relationships. These are the people God has placed in our midst – to help us to grow in wisdom and in grace.

Then, we can recognize that we may be little and broken, but we are still good.

Yeah. Still good.

A Seamless Feast

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Fri, 28 Dec 2012 15:23:00 +0000

Today is a difficult feast to celebrate - the Feast of the Holy Innocents, Martyrs. Here, we honor those children who were murdered by King Herod because of his jealousy and fear of Jesus. The gospel tells us that "He ordered the massacre of all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity two years old and under."

Herod, in his desire for power and comfort in his own plans, killed innocent children indiscriminately in order to somehow thwart God's plan in Jesus.

Today's feast brings to mind for me two realities that are both woven into the proverbial "seamless garment" of Catholic Social Teaching. First, the terrible holocaust of the unborn who die, often, for the sake of "life as usual" for parents and others involved. The "inconvenience" of a child is sacrificed for the preset plans of the already-born. I imagine that there are many homilies and comments about this on this feast day.

However, the other aspect of this feast is also proclaimed in our gospel. Due to that same jealousy of Herod, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph find themselves refugees - driven from their homes because the political power could not tolerate their presence there. This same situation continues today in many parts of the world - even in the US - even in Palestine.

It would not be "catholic" (i.e., universal, global, integral) to dwell on only one of these mysteries from today's feast. Innocents suffer due to worldly ambition - in the womb, and out. Both of these groups have their advocates, but we can serve them both.

So today, as we honor those innocents who died so young because of their resemblance to Christ, we also recall those others who suffer, and in that suffering also resemble Christ. Pray to end abortion and infanticide; pray to end violence; pray for peace and all people's right to a home.

A Mayan Christmas Carol

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Fri, 21 Dec 2012 13:23:00 +0000

`I don't know what to do!... I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as a drunken man."

It didn't happen. The end has not come. The Mayans weren't wrong - we were. So, here we are, now - the first day of the rest of our lives.

For those who worried over whether December 21 would bring the end of the world, I imagine that the dawn of this day is a truly promising one indeed. But the question remains: If this is not the end, what do we do now? How must we live? Have we been given a second chance, like Scrooge in Dickens' A Christmas Carol?

Ebenezer Scrooge took the lessons of his nocturnal spiritual visitors to heart, and he turned his life around - not just for Christmas, but as a true new beginning. He was old, but felt the charge of new life, and he danced and made merry as if he were young again.

Today, we begin again - as we do every day. But is there the chance that we can see this as a new beginning too? If this is a new start for us, what do we do now?

Rejoice in the Lord...Always?

noreply@blogger.com (Fr. Austin Murphy) — Sun, 16 Dec 2012 17:56:00 +0000

This third week of Advent is known as “Gaudete Sunday,” which takes its name from the Latin version of the start of our Second Reading: “Rejoice!” It is the “imperative” form of that verb, meaning that it is a command – not a suggestion, not just a nice thought, but something we ought to do. Paul is so enthusiastic about this command that he says it twice: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!”

But what do we do when we feel like there is nothing to rejoice about? Maybe we feel like the people in the crowd with John the Baptist, who ask, "What are we to do?" What do we do when our worlds seem to be falling apart all around us? What do we do in the face of tragedy, like what happened Friday in that school in Connecticut? How are we supposed to rejoice when innocents suffer and die, and all that is good seems to be torn from our world?

This Advent, I have been reflecting in my homilies and prayer on getting ready for Christ’s coming at Christmas by looking at popular Christmas songs and traditions. I actually had another homily ready for this weekend (undoubtedly wonderfully witty and profound, I am sure!).

Then, Friday came. I could not – as a responsible pastor – give that homily as if nothing happened – as though coming to church would be some safe haven from the cruel, real world. Friday night, I prayed for those poor children who perished and their families who are experiencing unimaginable grief. I prayed for all of you, as I am sure you were holding your own children tighter than usual and shaking your heads wondering why this could have happened.

But I thought of that famous Christmas story about that little town at the foot of Mount Krumpet, and the terrible green guy who lived on that mountain. You know – the Grinch. For me, as a kid, the Grinch was one of those incarnations of evil. He set out with the sole intention of ruining Christmas – Christmas! The Grinch’s goal was to make the Whos in Whoville miserable – to hear their laments and to revel in their abject suffering on Christmas morning, when they awoke to their entire world being stripped bare of the joyful signs of the season.

Remember? He took every present. “Pop guns! And bicycles! Roller skates! Drums! Checkerboards! Tricycles! Popcorn! And plums! … he slunk to the icebox. He took the Whos’ feast! He took the Who-pudding! He took the roast beast! He cleaned out the icebox as quick as a flash. Why, that Grinch even took their last can of Who-hash!” The presents, the treats, the trees – even the log from the fire. He took it all, emptying, it seemed, Christmas of all its life and joy.

When he had finished his despicable deed and returned home to the top of the mountain, the Grinch decided to listen to the sounds of the suffering and misery that he had left behind.

But, what did he hear?

Fahoo fores, dahoo dores. Fahoo fores…

He heard, rejoicing!

How?! He had taken everything from them! The Grinch left suffering and emptiness; and the Whos, rather than crying, were singing on Christmas morning.

This was a town – a community – that knew that Christmas was more than the possessions that we desire, even more than the celebrating. It was the presence of one another and the joy of remembering the true meaning of the season.

Our faith is a faith that responds to reality – not shelters us from it. It is meant to help people of faith to cope with real life, not make everything wonderful and safe. The Whos’ loss was no less real because they sang; however, their joy was even more intense as a witness that they had actually not lost what was most important.

Saint Paul’s exhortation to “rejoice” is not some naïve thought, detached from any reality. Rather, there is a reason for that joy. As Paul puts it, “The Lord is near.” The recognition of the presence of God in our lives – especially in those moments of suffering, loss and doubt – is a powerful gift. It brings with it a sense of balance that only God can give. “Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

The words of the Whos’ song are words that remind the Grinch – and us – that this peace of God is real – just as real as the pain and sorrow we can feel.

Welcome Christmas come this way

Welcome Christmas, Christmas day

Christmas day is in our grasp

So long as we have hands to clasp

Christmas day will always be

Just so long as we have we

Welcome Christmas while we stand

Heart to heart and hand in hand

We will certainly be afforded opportunities to reach out to those families torn by this tragedy - our faith will require that of us. Even now, we are holding them up by our prayers here. That is the message of the gospel - the message of Christ, who comes to us in weakness and innocences - just like those who died.

The tragedy of Friday is still very real; it certainly has a powerful grip on our hearts. The reminder to us is how precious life is, and how dear our loved ones are. Hold on to one another. Hold on to God, Who embraces these lost little ones even now.