Servant and Steward

Homily - 14 September 2025 - Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Mon, 15 Sep 2025 13:50:00 +0000

The Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Dear brothers and sisters,

After the Crucifixion of the Lord Jesus, the Cross of Christ was lost. The Romans, of course, wanted nothing more to do with it. In fact, they wanted to remove the memory of this Messiah from the history of Jerusalem. They tossed the Cross into a cave at the base of Calvary and built a temple to the goddess Venus over it, hoping to erase the memory of what took place there. For nearly three hundred years they were lost.

Following Emperor Constantine’s great victory at the Milvian Bridge in 313, which he won through the sign of the Cross, his mother Helena embarked on an archaeological mission. She tore down the temple to Venus and dug beneath its foundation, unearthing what the Romans tossed aside. In fact, she found three crosses there. Patriarch Macarius, the Bishop of Jerusalem, told her to touch each cross to the body of a dead man. The first two did nothing; but the third cross brought the dead man back to life. In the year 326, the Empress Helena found the Cross on which Jesus died – the True Cross.

Saint Helena, Giovanni Battista Cima da Conegliano, 1495

She took the Cross to the top of Calvary and lifted it high – she exalted it - for the people to see. She then began work on the first Christian church built on the site of Jesus’ Death, burial, and the Resurrection, which was dedicated on September 14, 335. Today’s feast, then, reminds us that Christianity is embedded in history, that the Christian faith can be verified, that it can be seen and even touched.

The Lord Jesus has since become so closely associated with his Cross that it is impossible for most of us to see a cross and not think of him who died and rose. How can we not think, then, of Jesus’ words, “And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself” (John 12:32)? When she physically lifted up his Cross from the earth, the Empress Helena lifted up Jesus and more people came into the Church. In this way, she said to the people, “Through his cross, Jesus revealed to us the true face of God, his infinite compassion for humanity…”[1]

This brings us to an important question: How is the Holy Cross exalted in your life? How is the Holy Cross lifted up in my life? Saint Helena also lifted up the Cross throughout her life and sought to unite herself to that Cross. She exalted the Holy Cross in this way; you and I called to do the same, but how?

Two years before he died, Saint Francis of Assisi went up Mount La Verna to pray. He was in prayer on this Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross when he asked for two particular graces:

My Lord Jesus Christ, I pray you to grant me two graces before I die: the first is that during my life I may feel in my soul and in my body, as much as possible, that pain which You, dear Jesus, sustained in the hour of Your most bitter passion. The second is that I may feel in my heart, as much as possible, that excessive love with which You, O Son of God, were inflamed in willingly enduring such suffering for us sinners.[2]

Because Francis had already embraced the Cross with such a devoted love, the Lord granted his two requests and impressed upon his body what he had already impressed within his soul; he received the stigmata, the very wounds of Christ Jesus in his own flesh.

This is why the people of his own day called Saint Francis the alter Christus – the other Christ. Francis had attained the goal of the Christian life: his love came to look like that of Crucified Love. As Pope Benedict XVI observed, “The experience of La Verna, where he received the stigmata, shows the degree of intimacy he had reached in his relationship with the Crucified Christ. He could truly say with Paul: ‘For me to live is Christ’ (Philippians 1:21).”[3]

This is the goal of the Christian life: to know Jesus Christ so intimately, to love him so deeply, that his thoughts become mine, that his love becomes mine. It is to become so closely united to him that I can say with Saint Paul, “It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). We must set ourselves aside in such a way that the love of Christ radiates out from is. This can only be done through union with the Cross.

Each of us has many opportunities to be united with the Cross each day. These invitations can come through tragic events, but they most often come through simple, everyday frustrations: the homework that is difficult or boring; the athletic move that is not yet mastered; the person who will not stop talking when you want quiet or the person who will not talk when you want company; even the dog that will not befriend you no matter how hard you try. There is no frustration, no inconvenience, no hardship that cannot be offered to Jesus in love and joined to his Cross.

Dear friends, when you find yourself facing the struggles of life, however significant they many be, turn your eyes to the Cross of Christ and think on his life. With Saint Francis, ask to experience the full measure of his love and to know what it cost. With Saint Helena, lift up his love to show it to everyone you meet. And never forget:

God saves us by showing himself to us, offering himself as our companion, teacher, doctor, friend, to the point of becoming bread broken for us in the Eucharist. In order to accomplish this task, he used one of the cruelest instruments that human beings have ever invented: the cross.

That is why today we celebrate the “exultation”: for the immense love with which God has transformed the means to death into an instrument of life, embracing it for our salvation, teaching us that nothing can separate us from him (cf. Rom 8:35-39) and that his love is greater than our own sin (cf. Francis, Catechesis, 30 March 2016).

Let us then ask, through the intercession of Mary, the Mother who was present at Calvary near her Son, that the saving love of her Son may take root in us and grow, and that we too may know how to give ourselves to each other, as he gave himself completely to all.[4]

Amen.

[1] Pope Leo XIV, Homily, 14 September 2025.

[2] In The Little Flowers of Saint Francis, 190-191.

[3] Pope Benedict XVI, Meeting with Youth, 17 June 2007.

[4] Pope Leo XIV, Angelus Address, 14 September 2025.

Homily for the Funeral Mass for Mary Elizabeth Reckers

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Mon, 25 Aug 2025 23:59:00 +0000

The Funeral Mass for Mary Elizabeth Reckers

Dear brothers and sisters,

For many years I told people that all of my personality could be traced to the morning I found my father dead on the couch. However, with my Aunt Mary’s death, I have now realized that claim is - in fact - not entirely true. My father’s death, if you like, built the skeleton of my personality, but it was my Aunt Mary who gave flesh to these bones.

It was she, for instance, who first introduced me to The Hobbit and to the Lord of the Rings. These two books would come to share much of my own thinking because the author was able to express in his own words many of the thoughts my heart could not find the words to express.

In a letter he wrote in June of 1941 to his son, Michael, J.R.R. Tolkien said,

The link between father and son is not only of the perishable flesh; it must have something of aeternitas about it. There is a place called ‘heaven’ where the good here unfinished is completed; and where the stories unwritten, and the hopes unfulfilled, are continued. We may laugh together yet…”[1]

If this is true of fatherhood, it must also be true of motherhood, for the two are part of a whole. Whether that link between mother and son or daughter is of the natural flesh, or of choice and care, it must still have something of aeternitas to it.

It is with these sentiments and desires that we bring Mary’s earthly remains here to the altar of God. Indeed, this desire is part of our reason to hope (cf. Lamentations 3:21). We entrust her remains to Almighty God trusting that Mary, who was baptized into the death and Resurrection of Christ Jesus, may be raised to life again on the Last Day, asking that she receive a place in the Father’s house in the kingdom of heaven (cf. Romans 6:3-4; John 14:2).

But when we speak of the Father’s House, when we speak of heaven, what is it that we mean? To what do we refer? How do we look at death and yet hope for life unending?

While the Christian certainly looks to the completion of the good we have begun in this life and to the conclusion of our as-yet unwritten stories, the fulfillment of our hopes is not to be found in “an unending succession of days in the calendar;” this is not what the Christian means by heaven or by eternity.[2]

Rather, by the term “heaven,” the Christian means something quite different than this life we now live and to which Mary has died. Rather, by the term heaven, the Christian means

…something more like the supreme moment of satisfaction, in which totality embraces us and we embrace totality… It would be like plunging into the ocean of infinite love, a moment in which time — the before and after — no longer exists. We can only attempt to grasp the idea that such a moment is life in the full sense, a plunging ever anew into the vastness of being, in which we are simply overwhelmed with joy.[3]

It is this overwhelming joy that completes the good we have begun and finishes our unwritten stories and fulfills all of our hopes, for these were but a yearning and stretching for that joy for which we know we have been made.

When confronted with the mystery of death, the Christian can only respond

…with faith in God, with a gaze of firm hope founded on the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. So, death opens to life, to eternal life, which is not an infinite duplicate of the present time, but something completely new. Faith tells us that the true immortality for which we hope is not an idea, a concept, but a relationship of full communion with the living God: it is resting in his hands, in his love, and becoming in him one with all the brothers and sisters that he has created and redeemed, with all Creation. Our hope, then, lies in the love of God that shines resplendent from the Cross of Christ who lets Jesus’ words to the good thief: “Today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43) resound in our heart. This is life in its fullness: life in God; a life of which we now have only a glimpse as one sees blue sky through fog.[4]

So it is that the mystery of death and of life are bound together in Christ. Heaven is the fulfillment of the promise that “the favors of the Lord are not exhausted, his mercies are not spent” (Lamentations 3:22).

The Christian need not fear death; rather, because “we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son,” the Christian can instead raise her eyes to Christ to see in them a look of tender love because she has already died and risen with him in the saving waters of Baptism (Romans 5:10; cf. Romans 6:3; I Peter 3:21). Let us, then, entrust our beloved Mary to the mercy of God, that he who prepared a place for her will receive her into his overwhelming joy unending. Amen.

[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 45 to Michael Tolkien, 9 June 1941. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, Revised and Expanded Edition. Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien, eds. (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2023), 76.

[2] Pope Benedict XVI, Spe salvi, 12.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 3 November 2012.

Homily - 3 August 2025 - The Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Tue, 05 Aug 2025 22:33:00 +0000

The Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Dear brothers and sisters,

Every Eucharistic celebration invites us to reflect on that which is most important: “the encounter with the risen Christ who transforms our lives and enlightens our affections, desires and thoughts.”[1] The readings from the Sacred Scriptures today invite us to continue this reflection in a particular way by remembering that God turns humanity “back to dust” (Psalm 90:3).

We have recently seen two people each go to Jesus and demand he intervene in a personal quarrel and each time Jesus redirects the complainer’s focus to what is essential (cf. Luke 10:40 and Luke12:13). Two Sundays ago, he redirected Martha to what he called “the better part”; today, he redirects the man away from greed and idolatry (cf. Luke 10:42; Luke 12:21).

Jesus responds today with a parable particularly apt for our own age, one about a rich man who demonstrates neither gratitude nor generosity and who focuses only on this life. “He talks about himself only, or rather about what he owns, about his things: his harvest, his provisions, his possessions, his soul. He talks about his plans and about how he can preserve what is his” (cf. Luke 12:19).[2]

He is an ego-centrist. Each in their own way, the sacred readings today call us away from this mindset by directing our thoughts to death, something we especially do not like to think about today but from which none of us can escape.

Jesus speaks not of an earthly wealth, but of a heavenly one that will not pass away (cf. Luke 12:22). “Jesus does not say what this wealth is, just as he did not tell Martha what the good thing is that will not be taken away” from her (Lk 10:42).[3] What can we say, then, about this wealth?

The great Saint Augustine of Hippo reminds us that the New Testament cannot be understood without the Old, and that the Old Testament cannot be understood without the New. So it is that we can get a hint, maybe, of what this heavenly wealth, this better part, is.

Qoheloth – the preacher who in Latin is called Ecclesiastes - tells us in English that “all things are vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2)! The English word vanity was once more useful here, but – as often happens – the way we use the word today is different from how it was used in the past. It is used here to translate the Hebrew word hevel. It is tempting to translate hevel as “nothing,” but this does not quite get at the meaning of the phrase that all things are vanity.

Literally, hevel means “breath” or “vapor,” neither of which means nothing but both of which are ultimately ungraspable, which more closely approximates what Qoheleth is trying to say; he seems to be saying that all things are ultimately meaningless because nothing remains and all our efforts are futile and fleeting, but this was said by a man who did not know the Messiah Jesus Christ.

Because of this, some readers today accuse Qoheloth of being overly pessimistic because he focuses on the sadder reality of this life. In point of fact, he is not pessimistic, but directly realistic.

For twelve chapters, the preacher argues his [seemingly] pessimistic point. The passage we read today is only one of many arguments for it – that all our work dies with us, that “you can’t take it with you,” that whatever profit you make on earth does not follow you after death. He has even stronger arguments: the problem of evil and injustice, for instance, which infects every life and every age. All the preacher’s points are taken from simple observation of the world, observation of life “under the sun.” And despite progress in cleverness and information and science and technology and economics, “nothing is new under the sun” morally (Ecclesiastes 1:9). Science makes us smart and powerful but not happy or good. People are just as unhappy and wicked as they were in simpler and poorer ages, perhaps even more so. That data that the preacher assembles to make his case is massive, the argument is inescapable, and the conclusion is deeply depressing: the settled happiness and goodness we all desire is simply not attainable in this life.[4]

His insistence on the ungraspability of the meaning of life causes most moderns to avoid reading Qoheleth altogether. Instead, we should each ponder with him the meaning of life; we should struggle with the questions connected with it and search out the mind and heart of God.

If we strive after the answers to these questions with Qoheleth and wrestle with the seemingly contradictory answers we find, we will quickly learn that

Ecclesiastes is not an atheist. He speaks of God, but he tells us only what our observation of this world tells us: that God is a great mystery, that no one knows what he is up to or what will happen to us after death or even if there really is a life after death… Without divine revelation, without the divine initiative, without God coming down from his heaven into our earth, how can we know and how can we possibly climb the mountain to get there? We can’t. That’s the true pessismism that this book teaches us, and it’s a crucially necessary lesson. Religion is not a happy face; it’s realism, it’s the truth, the whole truth, including the bad news. Only then do we appreciate the good news.[5]

His searching and wrestling and pondering, his deep dives into what is most important, taught him that “prayer, life, is nothing other than a constant search for what is essential, what we really need, what enriches us before God.”[6] The true meaning of life is not to be found in the things of this world, however pleasing they may be, but in the one who created these pleasing things and who alone gives meaning to these passing realities.

Ultimately, Qoheleth knows this life has both meaning and purpose, but he cannot quite discover it. The Christian, too, knows this life has both meaning and purpose, but he knows it can only be found in Jesus Christ; the Christian knows the meaning and purpose of this life is to encounter Jesus Christ – risen from the dead – and to allow him to change our affections, desires, and thoughts until they become united to his own.

Here, though, we meet another important and unavoidable question:

What did Jesus leave the world that it didn’t have before? The world that the preacher describes – that is, the world full of evil and injustice and suffering and death and ignorance and failures, the world that in the end is just “vanity” – is the same today as it was before Jesus came. What did Jesus give us that we didn’t have before?

The answer is very, very simple. He gave us God. He put God, and union with God, into our hands. And when he did, what did our hands do with God? We killed him. We crucified him. And what did he do about that? He used that sin to save us from sin, and he used that death to save us from final death. Jesus’ Resurrection is the guarantee of our hope and our resurrection. That’s the incredible Good News of Easter, the Gospel; but we appreciate it only if we are honest enough to accept the bad news first: that without that, without God-for-us, without God coming to us, life is indeed vanity of vanities. Ecclesiastes is the truth and nothing but the truth – but not the whole truth, thank God.[7]

Amen.

[1] Pope Leo XIV, Homily, 3 August 2025.

[2] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, O.F.M., Meditation for the Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, 3 August 2025.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul: Reflections on the Mass Readings, Cycle C (Park Ridge, Illinois: Word on Fire, 2021), 517.

[5] Ibid., 518.

[6] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, O.F.M., Ibid.

[7] Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul, ibid., 518-519.

Homily - 20 July 2025 - The Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Mon, 21 Jul 2025 02:19:00 +0000

The Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Dear brothers and sisters,

What is it that Jesus says will not be taken away from Mary (cf. Luke 10:42)? What is this “better part” of which he speaks? The answer is really quite simple, and even obvious: the better part that will not be taken away is Jesus himself.

When the Lord came to the home of Abraham and Sarah, he came as a stranger and received hospitality; when the Lord came to the home of the two sisters, he came as a friend and received hospitality. The hospitality of Abraham and Sarah was rewarded with the promise of a son (cf. Genesis 10:10); the hospitality of Martha and Mary was rewarded with God himself, for what does the Word Incarnate speak if not himself (cf. Luke10:39)?

Martha extends hospitality to Jesus by welcoming him with her service, by becoming “burdened” with

something that no one has asked her to do and for which there is no urgency (cf. Luke10:40). When the Lord enters a person’s life, the order of priorities changes, and the first thing everyone needs is to know Him and meet Him, everything else comes after that.[1]

Mary understood this in a way Martha did not. It is not that Martha’s form of hospitality was unimportant, but it was misdirected.

Georg Friedrich Stettner, Christ at the Home of Martha and Mary

We see this in that Martha is burdened, which is to say her attention and energy was divided. Martha’s frustration with her Mary’s lack of help arose because

It is not Martha who decides what to do, but the things that need to be done decide for her. And this is exactly the opposite of the verb used for Mary, who instead “chooses” (“Mary has chosen the better part” - Lk 10:42), that is, she is free to remain in what she thinks is good.[2]

And Mary is not wrong, as the Lord himself says, but how often do you and I let things decide for us what needs to be done, rather than you and I choosing the better part with Mary, to first listen to Jesus?

The hospitality Mary gave Jesus is different from that given by Martha. Martha attended to Jesus’ physical needs while Mary gave Jesus her ear. “It would be incorrect, however, to see these two attitudes as mutually exclusive, or to compare the merits of the two women. Service and listening are, in fact, twin dimensions of hospitality.”[3]

The example of these two sisters provides us with a model of how to be disciples of the Lord Jesus. Mary shows us the necessity of listening to the Jesus, of letting him speak to us before we do anything else. Martha offers us a warning of what can happen when we do not first listen to Jesus. “Martha complains about being left alone, and she feels that no one, not even the Lord, really cares about her” (cf. Luke 10:40).[4] Martha’s example cautions us that “if you lose the essentials, you lose communion; the other person, even if it is your own brother, is perceived as an enemy who is taking something away from you.”[5]

These two sisters show us the way forward. Whatever we do must begin with listening to Jesus, learning from him what must be done. Then, having listened to him, we must set out to love both God and neighbor so that, at the end of our lives, the better part will not be taken from us. Amen.

[1] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, Meditation for the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, 20 July 2025.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Pope Leo XIV, Homily, 20 July 2025.

[4] Pizzaballa, Ibid.

[5] Pizzaballa, Ibid.

Homily - 13 July 2025 - The Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Mon, 21 Jul 2025 02:01:00 +0000

The Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Dear brothers and sisters,

What is the point of the law given to Moses? This is, in some sense, the question behind what the “scholar of the law who stood up to test him” asked of Jesus (Luke 10:25). Moses gave the law to the people so they might “return to the Lord, your God, with all your heart and all your soul” (Deuteronomy 30:10). The purpose of the law, then, is to keep us in right relationship with God by keeping us in right relationship with our neighbor. The two-fold command of the love of God and the love of neighbor are intimately connect and cannot separated; the parable of the Good Samaritan makes clear that I cannot love God if I do not love my neighbor in whose image he is made.

Here, of course, we have to ask that troubling question: “And who is my neighbor” (Luke 10:19)? The scholar of the law asked it “to justify himself” (Luke 10:29). He did not yet understand the necessity of loving my neighbor as a means of loving God. Do we not also ask this question – at least implicitly – whenever we look for a reason not to lend a hand?

Gustav Dore, The Arrival of the Good Samaritan at the Inn

If we look closely through the Gospels, we will see Jesus rarely directly answers a question posed to him. He usually answers with another question, but sometimes – such as today – he answers with a story. Jesus’ response to the question of who my neighbor is does not exactly answer the question, but his answer is certainly to be inferred.

Until that time, the concept of “neighbor” was understood as referring essentially to one's countrymen and to foreigners who had settled in the land of Israel; in other words, to the closely-knit community of a single country or people. This limit is now abolished. Anyone who needs me, and whom I can help, is my neighbor. The concept of “neighbor” is now universalized, yet it remains concrete. Despite being extended to all mankind, it is not reduced to a generic, abstract and undemanding expression of love, but calls for my own practical commitment here and now. …we should especially mention the great parable of the Last Judgement (cf. Mt 25:31-46), in which love becomes the criterion for the definitive decision about a human life's worth or lack thereof. Jesus identifies himself with those in need, with the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and those in prison. “As you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me” (Mt 25:40). Love of God and love of neighbor have become one: in the least of the brethren we find Jesus himself, and in Jesus we find God.[1]

Now it remains for you and me to love God in my neighbor; it remains for us to live pono by living in right relationship with both God and neighbor.

This parable is not one we often like to consider too closely, because it reveals to us some of the ways in which we are not very neighborly.

If Christ shows us the face of a compassionate God, then to believe in him and to be his disciples means allowing ourselves to be changed and to take on his same feelings. It means learning to have a heart that is moved, eyes that see and do not look away, hands that help others and soothe their wounds, shoulders that bear the burden of those in need.[2]

This is a parable we must allow to challenge our hearts, and to make them at least a little uncomfortable; most of us are not loving our neighbor as fully as Father Damien, Mother Marianne, and Joseph Dutton did.

At the conclusion of today’s Mass, after having consumed the Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, we will pray that “its saving effects upon us may grow.”[3] What these effects are is made known in the prayer we will pray in a few moments, when we ask that the gifts of bread and wine – which will be changed into the Body and Blood of Christ - “may bring ever greater holiness.”[4]

This growth in holiness is largely a passive experience; it is something Jesus does for us and in us, rather than something we accomplish by the force of our own will. Consider a surfer bobbing on his board as he waits to catch the next wave. What he does is largely passive. He waits for the wave to come and carry him along. It is largely passive, yes, but it is also active; the surfer must do more than be picked up. After paddling out from shore, the surfer sits. He waits. He stands. He rides. But he does all of this after having waited to be carried by the wave. It is passive, yes, but also active. Over the course of time he becomes a better surfer, perhaps without even noticing as his skill improves. So it is with holiness; it is largely passive, but it is also active.

With time and practice, the surfer learns to read the waters and to respond to them accordingly. This is what must happen with our hearts when we see our neighbors.

Looking without walking by, halting the frantic pace of our lives, allowing the lives of others, whoever they may be, with their needs and troubles, to touch our heart. That is what makes us neighbors to one another, what generates true fraternity and breaks down walls and barriers. In the end, love prevails, and proves more powerful than evil and death.

You and I must become embodiments of that Good Samaritan so Jesus’ love may triumph over hatred and indifference.

Over the course of time, the reception of Holy Communion has the power to make us ever more like Jesus. It has the power to open our eyes and our hearts, and to extend the reach of our hands. This is something the Eucharist does to us, but we must still cooperate with the grace given us. Jesus will never force us to become holy. Rather, he invites us along the adventure of holiness and asks us to wait for the wave and catch it when it comes. Amen.

[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Deus caritas est, 15.

[2] Pope Leo XIV, Homily, 13 July 2025.

[3] Prayer after Communion for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

[4] Prayer over the Offerings for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Homily - The Solemnity of Pentecost - 8 June 2025

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sat, 14 Jun 2025 23:43:00 +0000

The Solemnity of Pentecost (C)

Dear brothers and sisters,

Too often we imagine the Pentecost event as applying to the early Church, as though it has nothing or little to do with us today. This is simply not the case, as I hope we will see.

When the Holy Spirit came down upon the Apostles at Pentecost, it was the second time they received this great gift of God; the Lord Jesus had already breathed the Holy Spirit upon them (cf. Acts2:3; John 19:22). They received the Holy Spirit at least twice, which corresponds to our double reception of the Holy Spirit, first at Baptism, and second at Confirmation.

Pentecost, Rabbula Gospels

We could spend time today asking why the Holy Spirit came upon Jesus in the form of a dove and over the Apostles as “tongues as of fire,” but I would rather consider the role of the Holy Spirit in the course of salvation history, which is to say in the early Church and among us today (cf. Matthew 3:16; Mark 1:10; Luke 3:22; Acts 2:3).

Perhaps the first role of the Holy Spirit is to enable us to pray, to believe. Saint Paul explains this very directly when he says, “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Holy Spirit” (I Corinthians 12:3). Faith is, on the one hand, something that we do, a work we perform; on the other hand, however, faith is a gift from God.

Every gift must be freely given and freely received; otherwise it is not a gift. We can – and do – resist and even refuse this give of God himself, because we think the gift of faith, the gift of the Holy Spirit, will somehow take away something of our freedom. But this is far from true. The reality is much more profound.

God deals with us freely because God always deals with anything according to its nature. God does not pervert or destroy or weaken or cripple the nature of anything but perfects it. So when God’s grace deals with you, it does not take away your freedom – the free will that is essential to your human nature – but perfects it. It is like light: it does not remove or destroy or weaken the colors it shines on but intensifies them, makes them more visible, makes red redder and green greener and blue bluer. So when God’s Spirit moves you to faith, when God gives you the light of faith, he does not do it by bypassing your free choice but by perfecting it. it is your free choice to believe in him and to trust him, to entrust your whole self to him. The very same act of faith that comes from your free choice is also coming from God’s Spirit with you inspiring you.[1]

If natural light makes green greener, then the light of the Holy Spirit makes you more you. We know this to be true and this is why we sometimes resist the gift of the Holy Spirit, because we know he is desirous of us becoming holy ourselves, of us becoming Saints, those who have been perfected in and through love.

Perhaps the second role of the Holy Spirit in the early Church and today is to draw us into unity with one another. We see this clearly happening at Pentecost when the Apostles speak and the vast crowd of many different languages understand their words all at the same time (cf. Acts 2:4, 11). That crowd numbered at least three thousand from at least sixteen different parts of the world (cf. Acts 2:41, 9-11).

It cannot be denied that the world is very much divided today, and not simply by different languages. Individual nations are divided within themselves, even cities and families, including the family of the Church. The Holy Spirit does not wish to see us lash out at each other, to be indifferent or antagonistic toward each other; rather, he longs to draw us together into the unity of the Body of Christ, for we are members of that Body in which there should be no discord (cf. I Corinthians 12:25). This brings us to the third role of the Holy Spirit, both in the ancient Church and today.

It is the Holy Spirit who distributes different spiritual gifts, services, and workings upon each one of us (cf. I Corinthians 12:4-6). He does not give each of us the same gift because his gifts are given for the benefit of others.

Some of the gifts he gives are more attractive to us than others, such as the gifts of healing or working of miracles (cf. I Corinthians 9:9). We tend to prefer the more exciting or glamorous gifts, but we should not forget that some gifts of the Holy Spirit are not quite so glamorous, at least in our estimation: helpers and administrators are usually forgotten (cf. I Corinthians 12:28).

The variety of the Spirit’s gifts is not given for the benefit of the recipient, but rather, as Saint Paul says, “for building up the Body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:12-13). The gifts of the Holy Spirit are given to be used for the benefit of others until we are all perfected in love (cf. Ephesians 4:12).

The purpose of the Church, who is animated by the Holy Spirit, is to make us more and more like Christ. For this reason, we have to keep in mind that

…the Church is a family, not a business; it is an organism, not an organization. God is our Father, not our boss. In that supernatural family, as in your natural family, nobody else can be you. Somebody else can take over your job, but nobody else can take over your soul, your personality. You are indispensable.

That’s why you have to make it to heaven: there is something you alone can do in heaven. There is something in God, some aspect of his truth and goodness and beauty, that no one else can know or appreciate as you can. And you will show that aspect of God to everyone else in heaven, just as you do now on earth – but much, much better. That’s why God created so many people, not just one. Even every snowflake is unique, and certainly every person is unique. As light is reflected differently in different snowflakes, God’s image is reflected differently in different persons. You are one of them.

There is a place setting for you at the banquet table in heaven, at the big family dinner. Your name is on that place setting. Your name is also on God’s personal invitation to you. He does not address his letters to “Dear Occupant” or “Dear Citizen.” He sends a personalized love letter to you alone. Be sure you respond with a yes. He’s your Father, and he loves every single one of his children more passionately than any earthly Father does.

How do we know that? It’s very clear and simple: Jesus says so. Do you think you know God better than he does?[2]

Today, then, let us call ever more fervently upon the Holy Spirit, that he may give to each of us and to all “virtue’s sure reward,” salvation, and “joys that never end.” Amen.[3]

[1] Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul: Reflections on the Mass Readings, Cycle C (Park Ridge, Illinois: Word on Fire, 2021), 342.

[2] Ibid., 344.

[3] cf. Sequence for Pentecost.

Homily - 31 May/1 June 2025 - The Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 01 Jun 2025 02:38:00 +0000

The Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

Dear brothers and sisters,

It seems a strange question to ask of the Apostles: “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky” (Acts1:11)? They had just seen Jesus “lifted up” and taken from their sight” (Acts1:9). The one to whom they devoted three years of their lives “blessed them [and] parted from them and was taken up to heaven” (Luke 24:31). They had never seen this happen with anyone else. What else were they supposed to do except stare up in wonder and awe? What would you have done?

MS M.648 fol. 123v

There is an important lesson for us in Jesus’ Ascension into heavenly glory, one we too often overlook; it is the importance of the human body. If the creation of the human body by God was not enough for us to recognize the dignity of the human body; if the breath of God being breathed into the human body to enliven it was not enough for us to recognize the dignity of the human body; if the only Son of God taking on human flesh in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary was not enough for us to recognize the dignity of the human body; then surely the fact that the Son of God and Son of Mary took his human flesh with him into heaven should be enough to make us understand the dignity of the human body. It is so important that Jesus did not leave it behind or discard it; he took it with him because, being human, he could not do otherwise.

Today’s Solemnity, aside from highlighting an important moment in the life of the Lord, focuses our attention on what it means to be human: “The human person, created in the image of God, is a being at once corporeal and spiritual.”[1] To put it perhaps more simply, to be human is to be a union of body and soul. This is why the Second Vatican Council said,

Man, though made of body and soul, is a unity. Through his very bodily condition he sums up in himself the elements of the material world. Through him they are thus brought to their highest perfection and can raise their voice in praise freely given to the Creator. For this reason man may not despise his bodily life. Rather he is obliged to regard his body as good and hold it in honor since God has created it and will raise it up on the last day.[2]

This is why the sin of abortion is so unspeakably horrendous and why turning someone’s earthly remains into jewelry is so dreadful; both deny the God-given dignity of the human body. This is also why the sin of physician-assisted suicide or so-called euthanasia – literally, “good death” – is so unspeakably horrendous.

This past Thursday, the Illinois House of Representatives debated SB1950, a piece of legislation titled, “Sanitary Food Preparation.” Despite being described as “AN ACT concerning health,” much of the bill concerns the enshrinement in law of a medical doctor’s legal ability to violate the Hippocratic Oath he or she took to do no harm; instead, the legislation seeks, at the patient’s request, to allow physicians to do great harm by prescribing medication to actively kill his or her patient.

What does a food sanitation bill have to do with suicide, you might ask. Nothing, except by way of a legislative amendment; namely House Amendment 2, which is nearly eleven times as long as the original bill. SB1950 cleared the House of Representatives on a purely partisan vote; it now moves to the Illinois Senate for approval by that body before going to the Governor’s desk.

Before I say more, let me first say a word to those who have contemplated or attempted suicide: “May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened, that you may know what is the hope that belongs to his call” (Ephesians 1:18). You are loved by God. You have been made in love, by love, and for love. Loved suffered for you. Love died for you. Love rose from the dead for you. Love ascended into heaven for you. Love did all this so you might know how very much you are loved.

At his inaugural Mass, Pope Leo XIV proclaimed, “Brothers and sisters, this is the hour for love!”[3] This is truly the hour for us to love each other, especially those who live without hope. This is the hour for us to open ourselves to receive love from one another and from God. This is also the hour for us to share love with those who feel far away from love.

Even as the government rightly puts resources behind suicide prevention – and has even recently created a mental health hotline to prevent suicides – the General Assembly wants to legalize one form of suicide. What sense does this make? How can any suicide be justified and encouraged?

The State of New York is also considering legalizing euthanasia, which led Timothy Cardinal Dolan to point out this legal double-standard:

I can’t help but shake my head in disbelief at the disparity in official responses. Our government will marshal all its resources to save the life of one hopeless and despondent man. Yet it may conclude that some lives aren’t worth living — perhaps due to a serious illness or disability — and we will hand those despondent women and men a proverbial loaded gun and tell them to have at it.[4]

The Archbishop of New York urged lawmakers to prevent - and not to assist - suicide.

Here in Illinois, Blase Cardinal Cupich, the Archbishop of Chicago, also called out the double standard in healthcare, saying:

I have to ask why, in a time when growing understanding of the deteriorating mental health of the U.S. population – and particularly among our youth – caused the country to create the 988 mental health crisis line, we would want to take this step to normalize suicide as a solution to life’s challenges. While the bill sets parameters for assisted suicide, the data from places where assisted suicide is available are clear. Rates of all suicide went up after the passage of such legislation. These rates are already unacceptably high, and proposed cutbacks in medical care funding will add to the burden faced by those contemplating suicide.[5]

It makes no sense at all to encourage people away from suicide by means of a weapon or a bridge and at the same time to tell them they may commit suicide through a physician.

House Amendment 2 purports to deal with “the full range of end-of-life care options;” what it actually amounts to, however, is purposeful and sanctioned medical killing.[6] No sane person who understands the human person as a union of body and soul could ever refer to killing someone as “end-of-life care.” Even the government does not do this, which is why the mental health hotline exists.

Wherever such legislation has been passed, both within and without the United States of America, physically and mentally ill patients have been pressured to commit suicide with the help of a doctor to save money or to no longer be a burden on others. Let us remember: no human being is ever to be looked upon as a burden, but as someone to be loved, someone made in the image and likeness of God with an inherent value, dignity, and worth that cannot be taken away. This must be stressed in every moment of life, especially when life seems unbearable.

If we consider today’s Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord, we can learn another important lesson in addition to the sacredness of the human body: the importance of being with the Father, for Jesus took his human body to the right hand of the Father (cf. Ephesians 1:20).

…there is no doubt at all of what mattered most to Christ – his Father. The first word we hear from him is, “Didn’t you know I must be in my Father’s house?” The last word before he died on the Cross was, “Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit.” The first message he sent to the Apostles after his Resurrection was, “I ascend to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” A good hundred times we find him talking of or to his Father. He makes him the object of his life: “I do the will of him that sent me”; he makes him the object of ours: “No one comes to the Father but by me.” At death our welcome will be, “Enter into the joy of my Father.”[7]

But such a welcome cannot be ours if we have not died in friendship, in communion, with our Father, with his Son, and with their Holy Spirit.

The Father clearly commands, “You shall not kill” (Exodus 20:13; Deuteronomy 5:17). Jesus takes this command a bit further yet. In no uncertain terms, Jesus says, “The Father and I are one” (John 10:30). So it is that Jesus also commands us not to kill (cf. Matthew 5:21-22). Because Jesus is “the way and the truth and the life,” anything directly contrary to his commands and teachings must be opposed (John 14:6). Jesus says to us, “You are my friends if you do what I command you” (John 15:14). If we wish to die in friendship with God and be welcomed into the Father’s house, we must die in friendship with Christ; we must keep his command against killing.

The Church strongly opposes physician-assisted suicide because each of us, body and soul united, “is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary.”[8] It remains for us never to forget this, and to help others know it. Amen.

[1] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 362.

[2] Gaudium et Spes, 14 § 1; in Catechism of the Catholic Church, 364.

[3] Pope Leo XIV, Homily, 18 May 2025.

[4] Timothy Cardinal Dolan. In Tyler Arnold, “Cardinal Dolan Urges New York lawmakers: ‘Prevent, don’t assist, suicide,” Catholic News Agency, 30 May 2025. Accessed 30 May 2025. Available at https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/264451/cardinal-timothy-dolan-urges-new-york-lawmakers-prevent-dont-assist-suicide-in-op-ed?fbclid=IwY2xjawKn2XBleHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETFGOFVvZGF2Zm9sNDc2M3NaAR6v0_KMMvOi__FohiD5wFGRk3mzzlw-oVevyh8MP9k3Yl1w2wTc4zXDU6sUtg_aem_jiQP_QeXyLzoTr1fENAxZw

[5] Blase Cardinal Cupich, “Statement of Cardinal Blase J. Cupich, archbishop of Chicago, on SB 1950 Assisted Suicide Bill.” Accessed 30 May 2025. Available at https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1AsuXutzGY/

[6] House Amendment 2, Section 5(a)(2). Accessed 30 May 2025. Available at https://www.ilga.gov/legislation/fulltext.asp?DocName=10400SB1950ham002&GA=104&SessionId=114&DocTypeId=SB&LegID=161335&DocNum=1950&GAID=18&SpecSess=&Session=

[7] Frank J. Sheed, Christ in Eclipse: A Clinical Study of the Good Christian (San Francisco: Ignatius Press), 25.

[8] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 24 April 2025.

Homily - The Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - 23 February 2025

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Tue, 25 Feb 2025 23:57:00 +0000

The Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Dear brothers and sisters,

Even to those who were raised in the Christian faith nearly since the day of their birth, some of Jesus’ teachings still strike them as extreme, out of touch, and maybe even unreasonable. We hear one of these teachings today: “Love your enemies” (Luke 6:27).

Because words mean something and because we cannot love our enemies without knowing who they are, I began digging into the etymology of the word enemy. Our English word comes from the Latin inimicus, which literally means “unfriend.” This would seem to mean that an enemy is someone who is not my friend, but this seems rather extreme; could everyone who is not my friend really be my enemy?

Digging a little deeper, I learned the Greek word for enemy is polemioi, which is distinct from another Greek word, ekthroi. Here I thought I was on to something and pulled out my Greek New Testament to discover which of the two words Jesus used. He used ekthroi, meaning one who is hated or who is hostile, one intent on inflicting harm. In Greek, though, the prefix of this word – ek – means “out of,” but I could not discover the meaning of throi. What are my ekthroi, my enemies, out of?

One source pointed me to the probable Proto Indo-European origins from ek, still meaning out of, and ros, but the only meaning for ros I could discover suggested the suffix made the previous part of the word in the past, as in “outed,” but still outed from what? Out of the house, the family, the city? I was getting nowhere; sometimes searching the scriptures can be frustrating (cf. John 5:39).

The Greek word for friends is philoi, so it did not seem possible that the ekthroi are the ones who are cast out of my friends because the words are not the same, yet that seems to be precisely the meaning of the word. The Greeks seemed to use this word in the same sense we use “my ex” for a former lover or spouse. In this sense, then, Jesus commands us to love those who betray us, or even those whom we betray, as well as who wish us – or those to whom we wish - harm.

Setting aside God’s revelation as the Trinity, as a tripartite communion of love, the most unexpected aspect of the teachings of Jesus Christ is his command to love not only those who love us, but to also love those who hate us, who persecute us, and who wish us dead.

Love of one's enemy constitutes the nucleus of the "Christian revolution," a revolution not based on strategies of economic, political or media power: the revolution of love, a love that does not rely ultimately on human resources but is a gift of God which is obtained by trusting solely and unreservedly in his merciful goodness. Here is the newness of the Gospel which silently changes the world! Here is the heroism of the "lowly" who believe in God's love and spread it, even at the cost of their lives.[1]

In this revolution of love, we see without question that authentic love is more than a matter of emotions. Indeed, love is something far greater than feelings that come and go.

To help us understand what love is, Jesus gives “a whole series of words that express a declension of love: bless, offer, do not reject, give, do good, lend, be merciful, do not judge, forgive. To love means all these things.”[2]

To put it perhaps more directly, more bluntly, it is as if Jesus says to us:

You must love, yes, but also those who do not love you… You must bless, yes, but also those who curse you… You must give, yes, but without expecting anything in return… You also have to forgive those who have hurt you and will probably continue to do so.

And this applies to everything, to every area of life, to every area of our daily relationships.

So it’s not just about learning to love, but accepting that those who love are always on the losing end.

It is not possible to love in the hope of getting something out of it: That is an illusion.

Loving means accepting that you have accounts that are in the red, accounts that do not open, accounts that are open.[3]

To love as Jesus commands means to always be, as it were, on the losing end of love; it means rarely – if ever – having our love reciprocated. How can we do so? Is it not too much for us?

To love in this way may indeed seem too much to ask of us, to require of us, too much for us frail and mortal humans. However, as J.R.R. Tolkien says, “we do not know our own limits of natural strength (+grace), and if we do not aim at the highest we shall certainly fall short of utmost that we could achieve.”[4] We trust too much in ourselves and too little in the grace of God.

The command to love even my enemies is an unquestionably tall order, but we must remember that

…Christ's proposal is realistic because it takes into account that in the world there is too much violence, too much injustice, and therefore that this situation cannot be overcome except by countering it with more love, with more goodness. This "more" comes from God: it is his mercy which was made flesh in Jesus and which alone can "tip the balance" of the world from evil to good, starting with that small and decisive "world" which is the human heart.

…It does not consist in succumbing to evil, as a false interpretation of "turning the other cheek" (cf. Luke 6:29) claims, but in responding to evil with good (cf. Romans 12:17-21) and thereby breaking the chain of injustice.[5]

We can only tip the balance and break the chain by keeping the two-fold command of love of God and love of neighbor, by loving as Jesus loves, by loving to the end, by loving to the Cross. The lives of so many of the Saints show us that loving is possible, and they show us how to live out the love of Christ Jesus in our daily lives. One need only think of Saint Josephine Bakhita or the Venerable Servant of God Augustine Tolton for proof of this.

Detail, Crucifixion, Morgan Library, M. 300, fol. 3r.

It is on the Cross that we see most clearly that Jesus “does not limit himself merely to affirming his love, but makes it visible and tangible. Love, after all, can never be just an abstraction.”[6] Our love, too, must be more than an affirmation or an abstraction; our love, too, must be visible and tangible; our love must look like his.

Love can never be a question of a tit-for-tat. We cannot keep a tally of who has repaid our love, or to what degree our love has been repaid. This is not the way of love, for to love is always to be vulnerable. We see this by looking at the Cross. If our love is to look like that of Jesus, if it is to be tangible and not an abstraction, we must follow Jesus declension of love: bless, we must offer, not reject, give, do good, lend, be merciful, not judge, and forgive.

Jesus did not weigh the full depths of his love for us over and against our too-often shallow love for him. He simply loved to the end and gave himself fully for us. When we grow discouraged because our love is not returned, let us not focus on ourselves and what we think we deserve. Rather, let us implore the Lord to draw us deeper into his heart, wounded in love for us, until our love becomes like to his own. Amen.

[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 18 February 2007.

[2] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, O.F.M., Meditation for the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, 23 February 2025.

[3] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, O.F.M., Meditation for the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, 23 February 2025.

[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 246, To Mrs. Eileen Elgar (draft), September 1963.

[5] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 18 February 2007.

[6] Pope Francis, Misericordiae vultus, 9.

Homily - 16 February 2025 - The Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 16 Feb 2025 21:59:00 +0000

The Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

The Reception of Alex Schattin into the Catechumenate

Dear brothers and sisters,

Every detail in the Sacred Scriptures is important and worthy of our pondering. Take, for example, the beginning of the Gospel passage just proclaimed. As a good historian, Saint Luke knew geography and topography are important to the understanding of human history.

Saint Luke tells us today Lord Jesus “came down with the Twelve and stood on a stretch of level ground” (Luke 6:17). He had previously “departed to the mountain to pray” (Luke 6:12). Throughout the Scriptures, the most astounding encounters with the majesty of God occur on the mountaintop, up in the air, as it were, where the earth reaches toward the heavenly realm. These are the moments we too often demand of God because we forget that such experiences were far from commonplace.

The mountaintop, however, is not the only place God encounters humanity. Because “the earth is the Lord’s and all it holds, the world and those who dwell in it,” God encounters his people high on the mountaintop of glory, deep in the valley of agony, and on the level ground of the ordinary joys and struggles of the human heart (Psalm 24:1). On the level ground, Jesus encountered “a great crowd of his disciples, and a large number of the people” (Luke 6:17).

What is more, those he encountered on the level ground were clearly those “who had been wounded by life.”[1] Among that throng of people are the poor, the hungry, the sorrowing, and the outcast (cf. Luke 6:20-22). The sick and those possessed by demons were also there (cf. Luke6:18). To put it perhaps more simply, each person he encountered hungered for love and companionship. Are we any different than them? Perhaps in one way we are: they knew their wealth, their food, their joy, their inclusion, their health, and their freedom could only be found in him who pronounced them blessed. Do we know the same?

What was it about that crowd that caused Jesus to stop and walk among them? What led him to be present to them? He saw what we too often overlook because his gaze looks into the human heart.

Jesus sees in these people before him the first recipients of this promise of joy; he sees people who will be put in a position to know God. They will come to know Him, not because He will change their destiny for the better, but because of the simple fact that He descended to them; because He descended into the depths of humanity and found them waiting for Him, with their desire to listen to Him and be saved. And there He stopped.[2]

Jesus stops for us, as well, but does he find us waiting for him?

There is one among us today who knows what that crowd knew, one who has also been wounded by life, one who has come to the Church requesting faith because it offers him eternal life, one who desires to be united with Christ Jesus.[3] There is one among us who is eagerly waiting for him.

Alex, Christ Jesus is not simply waiting for you. Rather, he is walking toward you and even with you, even if at times he seems to be a silent companion. He will be with you in moments of ecstasy on the mountaintop and when you weep in the valley of suffering; more importantly, though, he will be with you throughout your daily life, as well. He will always stop to be with you. Do not walk away from him.

If we again pay close attention to the words Saint Luke so carefully chooses to employ, we learn another important lesson. When Jesus descended from the mountain after being with the Father and landed on the level ground,

The first thing Jesus does is not to heal them, to help them, but to go among them and stop. Jesus did not come primarily to change people's lives by solving problems, healing everyone and always. He comes down and remains in their midst, making himself one of them.

Jesus comes down, stops and then begins to heal them. In short, he does not begin with his thaumaturgical work, through which he frees them from various illnesses, but with a Word that gives them a new perspective on their own lives.[4]

We always want Jesus to come to us and immediately remove whatever ails us, but this is not his way. He instead prefers to enter into our difficulties and to accompany us in every moment of life. The Word he gives crowd, the Word he gives us, is his very self. For what more could we possibly ask? What could be better than to be in the company of God?

Alex comes to us today asking for the greatest of the beatitudes, that of the knowledge of God. Alex comes to us seeking his salvation, which he knows can only come through a participation in the Death and Resurrection of Christ Jesus, a union with him that comes through Baptism. He also comes, through the workings of divine providence, as a reminder to us of the supreme importance of knowing the Lord and of clinging to him.

Alex, the Word of God who took on our frail humanity in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary is calling you to himself. This is cause for great joy and today you have set your feet upon the road that leads to union with him.

Union with Christ is also union with all those to whom he gives himself. I cannot possess Christ just for myself; I can belong to him only in union with all those who have become, or who will become, his own. Communion draws me out of myself towards him, and thus also towards unity with all Christians. We become “one body,” completely joined in a single existence. Love of God and love of neighbor are now truly united: God incarnate draws us all to himself.[5]

We should never resist this call; we should instead yield to the pull of his love.

J.R.R. Tolkien once said, “the chief purpose of life, for any one of us, is to increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all the means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks.”[6] Alex, this increasing knowledge of God is the goal of your catechumenate, a knowledge that is to increase each day of your life until at the end your knowledge of God is complete because of your union with him. This is why Saint Bonaventure said, “If you learn everything except Christ, you learn nothing. If you learn nothing except Christ, you learn everything.” I ask you to learn Christ in such a way that you inspire us to know him more deeply until we are all united in him and can only give praise and thanks. Amen.

[1] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, Meditation for the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, 16 February 2025.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Cf. Order of Christian Initiation of Adults, 51.

[4] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, ibid.

[5] Pope Benedict XVI, Deus caritas est, 14.

[6] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 310 to Camilla Unwin, 20 May 1969.

Homily - 27 January 2025 - The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Mon, 27 Jan 2025 13:28:00 +0000

The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Dear brothers and sisters,

In the Gospel passage(s) we have just heard, Mother Church presents to us two beginnings. Perhaps you missed them; it would have been easy to do so.

These verses from the quill of Saint Luke the Church come from two different parts of his account of the life of Jesus. The first four verses come the very beginning of his Gospel; the rest come from its fourth chapter, beginning with Jesus’ preaching in the synagogue following his temptations in the wilderness. Why has today’s Gospel been seemingly cobbled together so?

There is a word found in both passages connecting them together; the word is “fulfillment” (Luke 1:4; 4:21). In the first instance, Saint Luke speaks of “the events that have been fulfilled among us,” namely the Paschal Mystery, the Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ. Whereas other accounts of these events were somewhat piecemeal, jotted down quickly without organization, Saint Luke tells us he decided “to write it down in an orderly sequence,” that is, to record the life and ministry of the Son of God in a chronological fashion (Luke 1:3).

In doing so, the Evangelist is not simply setting out to write an historical account as we would understand it. No,

the evangelist does not simply speak of events that have taken place, but emphasizes and specifies that they have been fulfilled. He is saying that it is not simply something that has happened, perhaps something new or beautiful, but that everything that has happened is a fulfillment. In other words, something that has reached its fullness, its purpose, its goal.[1]

Luke knew the ancient prophecies of God; he, too, had been awaiting the promised Messiah and knew the Messiah had come in the person of the God-Man. In the beginning, we find the fulfillment.

We next find Jesus in the synagogue in Nazareth. Why does he go there when he is God himself? He does so, in part, to give us an example. “As a strict observer, the Lord does not disregard the pattern of the weekly liturgy and joins the assembly of his fellow citizens in prayer and in listening to the Scriptures.”[2] If the Lord Jesus does not exempt himself from communal worship each week, who are we to attempt to exempt ourselves from the holy Mass, even if only from time to time?

In the context of the weekly liturgy, Jesus “reads a Word and proclaims that this Word has been fulfilled.”[3] He reads one of the Messianic promises given to the people because they have been found unable to fulfill the demands of the law which they took upon themselves under the priest Ezra (cf. Nehemiah 8:6).

What does Jesus mean when he says the beautiful Messianic promise of Isaiah is at last fulfilled? He means

that our starting point, the beginning of life, is something that has been fulfilled, that a promise is kept, a covenant is fulfilled, a faithfulness is honored. At the beginning of our faith, at the beginning of our life, at the beginning of our relationship with the Lord, there is a gift that has been long prepared and finally irrevocably given. Fulfilled.[4]

Even in the beginning, we find the fulfillment.

Consider what Jesus does in that synagogue. Luke emphasizes that “Jesus stands up, receives the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, opens it, finds the passage with the verses that speak of the coming of the kingdom of God, reads from the scroll, rolls it up again, hands it to the servant and finally sits down again.”[5] Each of these actions, these gestures, these movements, carries great meaning because Jesus never does anything needlessly.

Jesus receives this history, in obedience to the Father; then He opens it to enter into it, to be part of it. He enters into a history that walks toward Him, the history of waiting for the Messiah, of waiting for a salvation that is free, that is for all. Jesus then reads it, interprets the law, that is, he makes it his own, reveals its meaning. And finally he rewinds the scroll, because the time of waiting for that Word is over, and now everything written in the scroll is fulfilled: you can see it and touch it, in his own person.

He is the redemption, He is the sight, He is the good news.[6]

“Jesus himself is ‘the today’ of salvation in history, because he brings to completion the work of redemption.”[7]

My brothers and sisters, Jesus has not simply entered into history generally, but into the history of a people, a people made up of persons, of persons he has united to himself through his Baptism in the Jordan. He has entered into my history; he has entered into your history. What is more, we have entered into his history through our Baptism into his Death and Resurrection. This gives new meaning to each “today,” and particularly so to each Sunday, the day of his triumph over the grave.

In this light, this Gospel passage calls us to reconsider the “today” of Sunday, how we live Sunday as a day set aside for God and for family.

Above all, it is the day to devote to the Lord, by participating in the Eucharist, in which we are nourished by the Body and Blood of Christ and by his life-giving Word. Second, in our diversified and distracted time, this Gospel passage invites us to ask ourselves whether we are able to listen. Before we can speak of God and with God we must listen to him, and the liturgy of the Church is the “school” of this listening to the Lord who speaks to us. Finally, he tells us that every moment can be the propitious “day” for our conversion. Every day (kathçmeran) can become the today of our salvation, because salvation is a story that is ongoing for the Church and for every disciple of Christ. This is the Christian meaning of “carpe diem”: seize the day in which God is calling you to give you salvation![8]

Let us, then, not be afraid to allow Jesus into the “today” of our lives. Let us not be ashamed to allow him into our history, however messy it might be. He is not afraid to enter into it; rather, he plunges himself into our history even as he plunges us into his own life in the waters of Baptism. Let us strive to live today in such a way that the fulfillment of eternal life promised us in our beginning at Baptism, may be given to us. Amen.

[1] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, Meditation for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, 26 January 2025.

[2] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 27 January 2013.

[3] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, ibid.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Pope Benedict XVI, ibid.

[8] Ibid.

Homily - 12 January 2025 - The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sat, 11 Jan 2025 13:42:00 +0000

The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

Dear brothers and sisters,

As we commemorate the Baptism of the Lord in the waters of the Jordan River, we are reminded that it is in the waters of Baptism that we are born into the family of God and are made members of his Church. Moreover, it is in that holy bath that we pledge our loyalty, our love, and our service to Christ. Baptism is the gift of God by which he gives us his very own life and makes us his sons and daughters by reason of which our lives are changed forever.

Detail, Scenes from the life of Christ and life of Blessed Gerard of Villamagna, MS M 643, fol. 5v

Baptism, of course, is not something that we do for ourselves. Rather, it is something we receive from God’s own initiative. Baptism “is a gift; the gift of life. But a gift must be accepted, it must be lived.”[1] No one gives a gift except in token of friendship and a gift of friendship implies a "yes" to the friend and a "no" to all that is incompatible with this friendship. When we receive the gift of Baptism, it implies a “no” to all that is incompatible with the life of God's family, to all that is incompatible with true life in Christ.

Consequently, in the second dialogue of the Rite of Baptism, three “noes” and three “yeses” are spoken. We say "no" as we renounce temptation, sin, and the devil. We know these things well – that we will be tempted by the world, by the flesh, and by the devil, and that we will sin – but, perhaps precisely because we have heard these renunciations so often, the words may not mean too much to us. If this is the case, we must think a little more deeply about the content of these “noes.” To what are we saying "no"? This is the only way to understand what we want to say "yes" to

In the ancient Church, these "noes" were summed up in a phrase that was easy to understand for the people of that time: they renounced, as they said, the "pompa diabuli" (the pomp of the devil), that is, the promise of life in abundance, of that apparent life that seemed to come from the pagan world, from its permissiveness, from its way of living as one pleased. It was therefore a "no" to a culture of what seemed to be an abundance of life, to what was in fact an "anticulture" of death. It was a "no" to those spectacles in which death, cruelty, and violence had become an entertainment. This "pompa diabuli", this "anticulture" of death, was actually a corruption of joy, it was the love of deceit and fraud, and the abuse of the body as a commodity and a trade. If we think about it now, we can say that also in our time we need to say "no" to the widely prevalent culture of death, to the pompa diabuli which still seems to run rampant. As Fulton Sheen reminds us, “Never forget that there are only two philosophies to rule your life: the one of the cross, which starts with the fast and ends with the feast. The other of Satan, which starts with the feast and ends with the headache."

The pomp of the devil is still manifested, for example, in drugs, in the flight from reality to what is illusory; to a false happiness expressed in deceit, fraud, injustice, and contempt for others; it is expressed in a sexuality that becomes sheer irresponsible enjoyment, that makes the human person into a "thing," so to speak, no longer considered a person who deserves personal love which requires fidelity, but who becomes a commodity, a mere object; it is expressed by the embrace of freedom simply for the sake of individual autonomy; it is expressed in the desire for wealth that cannot be spent; it is expressed in the desire for comfort that allows me to be lazy and allows me to ignore the struggles of the poor; it is expressed in the willingness to throw away what makes me uncomfortable or gets in my way; it is expressed in the willingness to reject lifelong monogamous marriage in the desire to define myself solely accordingly to my sexual urges; it is expressed in the desire to remain forever youthful, which leads me to ignore the fact that one day I will die.

Brothers and sisters, let us say "no" to this pompa, to this promise of apparent happiness, to anticulture of what may seem to be life but is in fact merely an instrument of death, and to this anticulture. If we say “no” to all of this, if we say “no” to so much of what our culture embraces, promotes, and imposes, it allows to say something much greater. Saying “no” to the pomp of the devil and his empty promises enables us to say “yes” to the true culture of life. For this reason, the Christian "yes," from ancient times to our own day, is a great "yes" to life. It is our "yes" to Christ, our "yes" to the Conqueror of death, our "yes" to life in time and in eternity.

Just as in this baptismal dialogue the "no" is expressed in three renunciations, so too is the "yes" expressed in three expressions of loyalty: "yes" to the living God, that is, a God Creator and a creating reason who gives meaning to the cosmos and to our lives; "yes" to Christ, that is, to a God who did not stay hidden but who has a name, words, a body, and blood, to a concrete God who gives us life and shows us the path of life; "yes" to the communion of the Church, in which Christ is the living God who enters our time, enters our profession, enters our daily life.

We might also say that the Face of God, the content of this culture of life, the content of our great "yes," is expressed in the Ten Commandments, which are not a pack of prohibitions, of "noes," but actually present to us a great vision of life. They are a "yes" to the God who gives meaning to life (the first three Commandments); a "yes" to the family (the Fourth Commandment); a "yes" to life (the Fifth Commandment); a "yes" to responsible love (the Sixth Commandment); a "yes" to solidarity, to social responsibility, to justice (the Seventh Commandment); a "yes" to the truth (the Eighth Commandment); a "yes" to respect for others and for their belongings (the Ninth and 10th Commandments). This is the Christian philosophy of life, the culture of life that becomes concrete and practical and beautiful in communion with Christ, the living God, who walks with us in the companionship of his friends, in the great family of the Church.

Baptism is a gift of life! It is a "yes" to the challenge of really living life, of saying "no" to the attack of death that presents itself under the guise of life; and it is a "yes" to the great gift of true life that became present on the Face of the Child of Bethlehem, who gives himself to us in Baptism and in the Eucharist. Therefore, whenever we present ourselves to receive the Holy Eucharist, the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ, we renew our “no” to the anti-culture of death even as we renew our “yes” to life, to the Church, and to Christ.

Today, as we celebrate the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord and conclude the season of Christmas, let us renew our commitment to make our lives firmly rooted in the faith of Jesus Christ, in all that we received when we were washed clean in the saving waters of Baptism. Let each of us say a firm “no” to the pomp of this world and a resounding “yes” to Christ and so build a society founding on the reality of life and love. Amen.

[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 8 January 2008. The remainder of his homily follows in an adapted form.

Homily - 29 December 2024 - The Feast of the Holy Family

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 29 Dec 2024 13:11:00 +0000

The Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph

Dear brothers and sisters,

Mother Church calls us to reflect on the reality of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph today because the example of their family life teaches us something about God. In fact, “God himself is a kind of family. He is not like a family, but a family is like him.”[1] Consequently, it is good for us to ask how closely – or if - our families are like God?

Simone Martini, Christ Discovered in the Temple

A few decades ago, we - as a society - recognized the family as the most important institution to the building of a just and harmonious society. The family was seen as the place in which we learned how to love one another, how to forgive one another, and how to put others before oneself, values fundamental to society. The family was seen as a school of love and of self-forgetfulness. This selflessness was learned from watching the example of the husband and wife whose primary task was to “establish between themselves a partnership of their whole life, … which of its own very nature is ordered to the well-being of the spouses and to the procreation and upbringing of children” (canon 1055 § 1).

We knew that for a happy and successful marriage, a husband must put the needs of his wife ahead of his own and that a wife must put the needs of her husband ahead of her own. We knew a husband and wife must safeguard their relationship and look to it before anything else. We knew parents must put the needs of their children ahead of their own desires and that children should honor and respect their parents, just as parents should honor and respect their children. We knew that if each member of the family looked to the example of Christ Jesus, family life would be beautiful, joyous, and life-giving.

But something happened along the way, and we decided it was acceptable and good to ignore centuries of wisdom. Rather than continuing to protect and safeguard the family because of its importance to the common good, we decided it was acceptable to redefine and to refashion the family because of our selfish desires.

We first decided children should no longer be received and welcomed as gifts and blessings from God, but that we should instead be able to determine when and how many were accepted. When contraception was widely used and considered good despite its clear violation of the law of nature and of God, husbands and wives decided they could separate the two aims of the marital act; they changed its primary focus from that of a complete gift of self to each other and turned it into the satisfaction of individual desires. No longer would marriage be about the mutual well-being and unity of the spouses that increased their love and made it fruitful, but about what someone else can do for me. From here, a second decision that children could be done away with if they were unwanted seemed an obvious – even if grotesque and deplorable - consequence.

Once marriage was no longer seen as the full sharing of life and love between husband and wife, it was an easy jump to say marriage was also no longer permanent. First, we decided marriages could be dissolved in difficult and tragic circumstances. Then, quite against the very clear words of the Lord Jesus, we decided marriages could be ended for any reason, or even no reason at all, if one or both of the spouses wanted to end it. We continued to make marriage about individual wants and desires, and not about the mutual sharing of life and love.

As these changes to the long-standing and accepted definition of marriage were made over the course of just a few decades, most Christians regrettably and scandalously went along with them and even welcomed them gladly. From this, as many rightly warned, the family received a very great wound from which it has not recovered and from which it continues to suffer greatly. Family life began to fall apart and, with it, society, as well. These are not popular words today, but the truth is not always very popular.

Christians accepted these changes, and even pioneered them, because we largely forgot that

the Bible is full of families, births, love stories and family crises. This is true from its very first page, with the appearance of Adam and Eve’s family with all its burden of violence but also its enduring strength (cf. Genesis 4) to its very last page, where we behold the wedding feast of the Bride and the Lamb (Revelation 21:2, 9).[2]

We forgot that family life is not necessarily meant to be easy but is still rewarding. We forgot that marriage and the family is to be the school of love and selflessness. We forgot that the family is not about me, but about us.

It is a curious reality of the inner workings of the mind of God that he continually chooses to allow us – weak and sinful as we are - to be instruments of his grace.

The ability of human couples to beget life is the path along which the history of salvation progresses. Seen this way, the couple’s fruitful relationship becomes an image for understanding and describing the mystery of God himself, for in the Christian vision of the Trinity, God is contemplated as Father, Son and Spirit of love. The triune God is a communion of love, and the family is its living reflection. Saint John Paul II shed light on this when he said, “Our God in his deepest mystery is not solitude, but a family, for he has within himself fatherhood, sonship and the essence of the family, which is love. That love, in the divine family, is the Holy Spirit”. The family is thus not unrelated to God’s very being.[3]

We reshaped marriage according to our own desires because we forgot that we are made in the image and likeness of God; we forgot that marriage is meant to reflect the inner life of God, to make his love the foundation of our lives.

This is, in part, why the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity chose to be born of a woman to take on our flesh at Bethlehem.

In the Gospel we do not find discourses on the family but an event which is worth more than any words: God wanted to be born and to grow up in a human family. In this way he consecrated the family as the first and ordinary means of his encounter with humanity.[4]

The importance of the family is intimately involved with the mystery of Christmas and gives us good reason to ask how well our families reflect the love of the Triune God.

Husbands and wives, strive to love each other well and freely, not because of what your spouse gives you or does for you or brings to you, but simply for the sake of your spouse; love your spouse because of your spouse. If you do, you will imitate the love of God who loves us not because of what we can do for him, but because we are his. Follow the counsel of Saint Paul and

put on, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do. And over all these put on love, that is, the bond of perfection. And let the peace of Christ control your hearts, the peace into which you were also called in one body. And be thankful (Colossians 3:12-15).

Allow your marriage to be marked by gratitude, forgiveness, and love so you may always reflect the merciful love of the Christ Child to a hurting world. Let your marriage shine out as a beacon of hope to the suffering. Teach your children to forgive one another and to let go of grudges. Teach them, through your own example, the beauty of a life lived for God and for others. Teach them to trust in God and not in themselves. Teach them to open their hearts to God and to allow him to dwell in them richly.

If you make your marriage a full sharing of life and love and a true and complete self-gift to your spouse, your marriage will be happy, successful, and, more importantly, a reflection of God’s own love. You and your children, by the grace of God, will be able to begin slowly rebuilding and refashioning society by restoring a recognition of the beauty of marriage and of the family.

Standing today at the threshold of a new year, we can either look forward in gloom, or we can look forward in hope; we can look at the wound we have inflicted on the family and on society, or we can look at the remedy. Some sixteen hundred years ago, Saint Augustine said, “Bad times! Troublesome times! This men are saying. Let our lives be good; and the times are good. We make our times; such as we are, such are the times.”[5]

Let families, then, again be schools of love and selflessness. Let them place the Child Jesus in the center of their hearts! May we strive to conform our lives to that of the Christ Child and so change the times in which we live, that we may all come to dwell in the joy of the Father’s house. Amen.

[1] Peter Kreeft, Why Does Everything Come in Threes? A Short Book about Everything (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2024), 35.

[2] Pope Francis, Amoris Laetita, 8.

[3] Pope Francis, Amoris Laetitia, 11. Pope Saint John Paul II, Homily at the Eucharistic Celebration in Pueblo de los Angeles, 28 January 1979.

[4] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 31 December 2006.

[5] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 30.8.

Homily - The Funeral of John Jones - 22 November 2024

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sat, 23 Nov 2024 14:28:00 +0000

The Funeral Mass for John Robert Jones

Dear brothers and sisters,

The words we have heard from Saint Paul are as a mine into which we must delve, and in which we must work to discover great gems through which the light of the Christian life is refracted. Central to his words is the idea of adoption into the family of God. We have gathered here today, having brought John with us into this church he loved so much, because he is a child of God (cf. Romans 8:14). But we know who John’s parents are; how did he become a child of God?

Saint Augustine tells us that “by spiritual regeneration we therefore become sons and are adopted into the kingdom of God, not as aliens but as his creatures and offspring.”[1] This regeneration happens to a Christian through Baptism. The Lord Jesus himself says, “Amen, Amen, I say to you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and the spirit. What is born of flesh is flesh and what is born of spirit is spirit” (John3:5-6). Saint Paul describes Baptism as a participation in Christ, which is why he asks,

Or are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life. For if we have grown into union with him through a death like his, we shall also be united with him in the resurrection (Romans6:3-5).

It is a great mystery to say a person dies in the waters of Baptism, just as so many died in the waters of the flood, yet this reality is at the heart of the Christian faith (cf. Genesis 7:23). The very waters that bring about a participation in the death Christ, however, also bring about a participation – at this very moment and as a promise of future glory – in the Resurrection of Christ Jesus from the dead. This is why Saint Peter says the ark of Noah “prefigured baptism, which saves you now. It is not a removal of dirt from the body but an appeal to God for a clear conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (I Peter 3:21).

We have placed John’s mortal remains here at the foot of the sanctuary near the Paschal Candle, the symbol of the Risen Lord, triumphant over sin and death. This candle was lit on the day of John’s baptism in Christ and from it John was entrusted with the light of Christ. Before bringing John here, we sprinkled his body with Holy Water, a reminder of those waters that saved him, and clothed him the funeral pall, the final baptismal garment because, as Saint Paul says, “For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ” (Galatians 3:27).

All of this is to say that through Baptism we share in the sonship of Christ and with him are able to call upon God as Father, frail and finite as we are. “This is a mystery we can only marvel at, just as [Saint] John did when he wrote, ‘See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called children of God. Yet so we are’ (I John 3:1).”[2]

To call God “Father” was all but unheard of in the ancient world. The pagans did not do so; the Jews did, though only rarely (cf. Isaiah 63:16; Wisdom 14:3; Sirach 23:1).

What was an occasional in Israel became habitual with the Messiah. Invoking God as Father was Jesus’ normal way, the most prominent and distinctive feature of his prayer and speech. Now Christians indwelt with the Spirit have the privilege of making Christ’s prayer their own.[3]

Consequently, all those who have received the grace of Baptism “now carry this Spirit within them and can speak like Jesus and with Jesus as true children to their Father; they can say ‘Abba’ because they have become sons in the Son.”[4]

If all of this is true, what are we to make of Saint Paul’s reference to “the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear” (Romans 8:15)? This is what Saint Augustine said: “The fear, then, of which we speak is slavish; and therefore, even though there be in it a belief in the Lord, yet righteousness is not loved by it, but condemnation is feared. God's children, however, exclaim, Abba, Father…”[5] Those baptized into Christ Jesus call out to God with loving trust, confident they are in the gentle “hand of God, and no torment shall touch them” (Wisdom 3:1).

We have brought John’s body here because the Spirit of God once dwelt within it. Soon we will honor this temple with incense, even as ask God to purify John and grant him a place of peace (cf. I Corinthians 6:19; Wisdom 3:3). We will do so in the knowledge that

Adoption is already guaranteed for those who believe, but it has been accomplished only spiritually, not physically. The body has not yet received its heavenly transformation, although the spirit, which has turned from its errors to God, has already been changed by the reconciliation of faith. Therefore even believers still await the revelation which will come with the resurrection of the body. This is the fourth state, when everything will be in perfect peace at eternal rest, completely free of malignant corruption or nagging torment.[6]

This heavenly transformation of the body was promised to John in Baptism, as it was promised to each of us, provided we live a life in keeping with the spirit of adoption we have received. Together, then, let us cry out to the Father that John, who shared in the sonship of the Son, may be with the Lord Jesus to know the fullness of the love of the Triune God, now and forever. Amen.

[1] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Sermon on the Mount, 23.78.

[2] Scott W. Hahn, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture: Romans (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2017), 134.

[3] Ibid., 135-136.

[4] Pope Benedict XVI, General Audience Address, 8 October 2008.

[5] Saint Augustine of Hippo, The Spirit and the Letter, 56.

[6] Ibid., On Romans, 53.

Homily - The Wedding of Brittany Twidwell and Kolby Vandenbergh - 16 November 2024

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sat, 16 Nov 2024 14:44:00 +0000

The Wedding of Kolby Vandenbergh and Brittany Twidwell

Dear brothers and sisters,

We have come together this afternoon, in this church dedicated to the honor of God and of Saint Augustine of Hippo, to witness the exchange of consent of Kolby and Brittany, and to celebrate with them as they “establish between themselves a partnership of their whole life.” By its very nature, this union “is ordered to the well-being of the spouses and to the procreation and upbringing of children” (canon 1055).

On behalf of the couple, I greet you, their family and friends, with affection and I welcome you in the name of Christ. I thank you for the love, support, and encouragement you show them by your presence with us today; I trust they will be able to count on your continued encouragement, support, and love in the days, weeks, and years ahead. Now, my friends, before we witness the exchange of their promises to live in committed love until death, I ask you to allow me to speak directly to the couple; you, of course, may listen in.

Kolby and Brittany, we, your family and friends, and I, the Church’s minister, are truly happy to share in your joy and in your love for each other. It is fitting that we gather here in this sacred place where the most important moments in life are held to remind us again and again that “the love of the Lord is everlasting” (Psalm 103:17).

You have chosen for us to hear the scriptural account of – to use the literal word - the building of Eve from Adam, of woman from man. It is, of course, fitting to consider this mystery in relation to the mystery of marriage; we will soon see that the use of the word building hints at another mystery to come many centuries later.

In his commentary on this passage, Saint Augustine asked an intriguing question: he wanted to know why God took one of Adam’s ribs to make Eve when he could have used Adam’s flesh, and why God did not replace Adam’s rib with another rib but with flesh instead.

His answer to this question is equally intriguing, even if perhaps not very palatable in today’s society. Augustine says Eve was made strong by Adam’s bone and that Adam “was weakened on her account.”[1] It was this mutual strengthening and weakening, he suggests, that brought about the wedding – the union - of our first parents.

What does it mean for the woman to be strengthened by the man if not that she is upheld by him, comforted by him, calmed by his reassuring presence? It is no bad thing for a woman to be strengthened by a man.

What does it mean for the man to be weakened by the woman if not that she makes him gentler, less rash and foolhardy, more caring? She makes him less brutish and makes him no noble. We often see this when a young man grows weak in the knees when he first meets the woman with whom he wants to build his future. It is no bad thing for a man to be weakened by a woman.

Augustine, however, not does end his reflections here; he also explains why Eve was built up from Adam’s rib and not from the dust of the earth as Adam was: Some have said “God used a rib because it was close to Adam’s heart. The rib from the chest near the heart of man helps explain the intimacy – a rib from his side is appropriate for one who will walk by his side and be his partner and companion.”[2]

If we consider that rib of Adam again for just another moment, we find an early indication of God’s plan for the salvation of all humanity.

Even in the beginning, when woman was made from a rib in the side of the sleeping man, that had no less a purpose than to symbolize prophetically the union of Christ and his Church. Adam’s sleep was a mystical foreshadowing of Christ’s death, and when his dead body hanging from the cross was pierced by the lance, it was from his side that there issued forth that blood and water that, as we know, signifies the sacraments by which the Church is built up. “Built” is the very word the Scripture uses in connection with Eve: “He built the rib into a woman.” … So too Saint Paul speaks of “building up the body of Christ,” which is the Church (cf. Ephesians 4:12). Therefore woman is as much the creation of God as man is. If she was made from the man, this was to show her oneness with him; and if she was made in the way she was, this was prefigure the oneness of Christ and the Church.[3]

Just as Eve was built from the rib of Adam, so the Church is built from the side of Christ Jesus.

This brings us to a key consideration: Whether it is recognized as such or not, the love that unites a man and woman together is the same love that drove the only Son of God to abandon the glory of heaven and take our frail humanity upon himself; the same love that led the Son of God to take the sins of the world upon himself and lovingly accept crucifixion for our salvation; the same love that raised the only Son of God from the dead; the same love that sent the Holy Spirit to be with us always. God’s love for us is very much a nuptial love and it is what unites a man and woman together in marriage. It is the core, the center, the very foundation, of the married life that you, Kolby and Brittany, seek to enter today.

There is a temptation to over-romanticize marriage, to think it will somehow automatically bring about a life of bliss without any difficulties whatever. The reality, however, as any honest couple will tell you, is not quite so picture perfect. Marriage is difficult and requires compromise, patience, and gentleness; and when these are embraced, marriage is also beautiful, perhaps because of its difficulties. Marriage is quite simple, but it is not easy. It is simple because, at its core, marriage involves only one thing, namely, that every day each spouse must desire the good of the other above his or her own and labor to obtain that good for the beloved. In this, marriage daily requires self-denial, and, for this very reason, it is far from easy.

The great J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, reflected on the reality of marriage in a letter he wrote to his son Michael in 1941. Then, after twenty-five of his fifty-five years of marriage to his beloved wife Edith, the elder Tolkien wrote these words:

No man, however truly he loved his betrothed and bride as a young man, has lived faithful to her as a wife in mind and body without deliberate conscious exercise of the will, without self-denial. Too few are told that – even those brought up ‘in the Church.’[4]

Tolkien here speaks of a danger for the groom in marriage, but lest some think marriage brings no danger for the bride, we might note the temptation of the wife to always imagine herself to be right. Marriage, for her, too, requires deliberate conscious exercise of the will, that is, self-denial. I do not want the two of you to be unaware of this.

In just a few moments you will be joined until death as husband and wife. For your part, Brittany, allow Kolby to strengthen you and help you grow in holiness. For your part, Kolby, allow Brittany to weaken you and help you grow in holiness. Strive always to imitate for each other the selfless love of Jesus Christ. Live always in his love and build your life together upon that solid foundation. Be united, bound, joined in your love for each other, yes, but above all in that love that pours forth from the heart of Crucified Love. Amen.

[1] Saint Augustine of Hippo, On Genesis, IX.18.34.

[2] Steve Ray, Genesis: A Bible Study Guide and Commentary (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2023), 58.

[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, The City of God, 22.17.

[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter to Michael Tolkien, 6-8 March 1941. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Humphrey Carpenter, ed. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000), 51.

Homily - The Solemnity of All Saints - 1 November 2024

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Fri, 01 Nov 2024 22:10:00 +0000

The Solemnity of All Saints

Dear brothers and sisters,

What keeps each of us from becoming a saint, from hastening after them, from imitating their example of loving God and neighbor? The answer, I suspect, is a false understanding of who the saints are.

Those unfamiliar with them tend to think the Saints are those who lived perfect lives, who never grew angry or impatient, who always acted with wisdom and dignity, and who rarely sinned. Those who think of the Saints in this way see them either as impossible guides to follow or as personifications of boredom or obnoxiousness. If this is how we view the Saints, it is no wonder we do not strive to join their ranks.

But those who read the accounts of their lives know this assumption about them to be quite false. Rather, the saints are, as J.R.R. Tolkien – the author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings - once described them, "those who have for all their imperfections never finally bowed heart and will to the world or the evil spirit."[1]

The choice of words the Professor employs is simply another way of saying what we hear every year at this time, but seldom believe: the Saints are like you and like me. They were tempted and struggled and sinned - and repented. What, then, is the difference between us and them?

The Saints, we might say, kept the end goal, the final victory, always before them. They knew they would struggle and sin, yet they never lost sight of the merciful love of God because they knew his hand would always catch their repentant hearts and gently place them back on the narrow way that leads to the Father's house. This is what Tolkien means when he says they never finally bowed heart and will to the world or the evil spirit; they did not, in the end, keep their focus on themselves, but kept it instead on God.

Having died in the service of God and in his friendship, the Saints received "the crown of life," as Saint John described in an earlier part of the Book of Revelation (Revelation 2:10). We see the bestowing of these crowns depicted in one of my favorite medieval manuscript images. The illumination shows Jesus enthroned in the center of the image, handing out small crowns to men and women on either side of him.

The circle of Johannes von Valenburg, ca. 1299

What I especially like about this image is the littleness of those receiving their crowns from the hands of the Lord as the Blessed Virgin Mary and (presumably) Saint John the Evangelist look on; the ones being crowned are, at most, half the size of Jesus, almost Hobbitlike, if you will. Through his eyes, Jesus even seems to confer with Saint John as to which of the little ones is worthy of a crown.

The size of the figures awaiting their crowns, some already halo-ed, reminds me of some of my favorite words Tolkien wrote in his essay "On Fairy Stories," namely, that "in God's kingdom the presence of the greatest does not depress the small. Redeemed man is still man."

Here on earth, we tend to be intimidated by the presence of the greatest – Saints, though they be. We see how fully the Saints entrusted themselves to God and it that trust cost them. We see their complete trust in God, at least at the end of their lives, and we see our failures to trust and love God. But, my brothers and sisters, we need not be afraid to fully entrust ourselves into the hand of God. If the saints, with their multi-faceted personalities and, yes, with their imperfections, could do so, so can we!

The only thing standing in the way of my growth in holiness is me; the only thing standing in the way of your growth in holiness is you. Let us, then, like trusting children, stretch out our little hands to the strong hand of the Lord Jesus so he might lead us along the way of his Saints. Let us allow him to do so either gently or with some prodding, so that we, small as we are by comparison to him, might stand among the company of the Saints and wear the same crown them. Amen.

[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 93 To Christopher Tolkien, 30 January 1945. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, Revised and Expanded Edition. Humphrey Carpenter, ed. (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2023), 159.

Homily - 13 October 2024 - The Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 13 Oct 2024 12:40:00 +0000

Dear brothers and sisters,

After Jesus looked at him in love, the rich young man in today’s Gospel “went away sad” (Mark 10:22). When Jesus looked at Peter, he “went out and began to weep bitterly” (Luke 22:62; cf. Luke 22:61). Those who look upon his Holy Face in the Veil of Manoppello also feel a certain sadness when they look into his eyes. Perhaps you, too, have felt sad in the presence of the Lord Jesus. Why is this?

Jesus looked upon the rich young man with love (cf. Mark 10:21), as he also surely looked upon Peter. He looks upon you and me with love, as well, but if this is so, what is it about the look of Jesus that elicits sadness within those upon whom he turns his eyes?

When Jesus looked at Peter, they were within the courtyard of the high priest; Peter had just three times denied knowing Jesus (cf. Luke 22:60). Jesus’ look of love revealed Peter’s sinfulness to him and so Peter wept bitterly on account of his failure to love God and neighbor perfectly; he was not yet ready to abandon his own plans and devices.

Christ and the rich young man by the Master of Delpf

The rich young man knew what is needed for growth in holiness; he kept the commandments, but he was not yet willing to surrender himself to what the commandments point: he needed to take “a leap in quality” and give his life “completely, without calculation or personal interest, with unreserved trust in God” (cf. Mark 10:20).[1] In short, he was not yet willing to follow the commandments without compromise. Jesus’ look of love revealed his sinfulness to him; he went away sad on account of his failure to love God and neighbor perfectly. He went away sad on account of what he was not yet willing to leave behind.

He must have been a person of some importance, that rich young man. Why, then, does he remain anonymous? Why do we not know his name? It seems probable that “if he had responded positively to the invitation of Jesus, he would have become his disciple and probably the Evangelist would have recorded his name.”[2] It is also possible he is not named because – in some mystical fashion – he represents you and me. Do we not also become sad on account of our sins, because of our failure to love both God and neighbor? Do we not also become sad because of what we are not yet willing to leave behind?

Here we learn a great secret of the human person and of our fallen nature:

We are used to thinking that our sadness depends on something we lack: we deceive ourselves by thinking that if we have enough of what we desire, we will be happy.

This is precisely the serpent’s deceit described in the story of original sin (cf. Genesis 3).

The serpent deceived Eve and Adam by making them believe that for them to be happy and truly be alive, they must possess everything without any limits; there can be nothing that is forbidden to them, and they must not lack.

The serpent's cunning lies precisely in making what we lack seem essential and irreplaceable for our happiness and fulfillment in life.[3]

Thus, we think gaining perishable things is happiness and sadness is losing things that fade and decay. How do we overcome this sadness?

Blessed Carlo Acutis once sad, “Sadness is looking at oneself, happiness is looking at God. Conversion is nothing but a movement of the eyes.” Happiness comes when I allow Jesus’ eyes to meet mine; happiness is found when I do not turn my eyes away from Jesus’ look of love. If I am to allow my eyes to be held by his, I must cast aside everything that hinders me from loving fully; I must cast aside those things which distract me from him. You must do the same. We must accept what Jesus offers: “a relationship in which he feels looked upon and loved not because of what one does, nor possesses, but because of an original gift that is given to us before any possible response.”[4] We must accept that he sees us and loves us not because of what we have or because of what we have done, but because we are.

If we are to allow our eyes to be held by his, we must surrender ourselves to him; we must yield to the power of his love. We must take a leap in quality and strive after “heroism in holiness.”[5] Doing so is not easy and requires great courage, for

Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms and frees us, allowing us to become truly ourselves. All that we build during our lives can prove to be mere straw, pure bluster, and it collapses. Yet in the pain of this encounter, when the impurity and sickness of our lives become evident to us, there lies salvation. His gaze, the touch of his heart heals us through an undeniably painful transformation “as through fire”. But it is a blessed pain, in which the holy power of his love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally ourselves and thus totally of God.[6]

His look of love reminds us that “no creature is concealed from him, but everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must render an account” (Hebrews 4:13). What is more, his look of love allows us to fulfill the goal of the commandments: to attain a true and mystical union with God.

Dear brothers and sisters, in only a few moments the Lord Jesus will look upon you and me with love. What do I mean? Saint John Vianney noticed that one of his parishioners daily entered the church and appeared to simply sit in the pew day after day. When asked what he did in the church everything, the man answered simply, intriguingly, and beautifully: “I look at [Jesus] and he looks at me.”[7]

That man understood the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist and did with Jesus what a husband and wife do to each other after decades of marriage. This is what you and I must also do with Jesus; we must allow him to look upon us with love and we must look upon him with love. The continual look of his love will purify us and, by slowly severing our attachments to the things of this world, his look of love will remove our sadness – provided we do not turn away. Then, in the end, “the gracious care of the Lord our God [will] be ours” and we will “shout for joy and gladness all our days” (Psalm 90:16, 14). Amen.

[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 11 October 2009.

[2] Ibid., 15 October 2006.

[3] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, O.F.M., Homily, 13 October 2024.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 11 October 2009.

[6] Pope Benedict XVI, Spe salvi, 47.

[7] In Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2715.

Homily - The Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time and the Christian Initiation of Luke Johnson - 8 September 2024

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 08 Sep 2024 00:37:00 +0000

The Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

The Christian Initiation of Luke Johnson

Dear brothers and sisters,

If we consider them together, the readings from the Sacred Scriptures we have just heard each “speak of God as the center of all reality and the center of our personal life.”[1] In a certain sense, the deaf man whom Jesus healed symbolizes what happens when we do not recognize God as the center, the hub around which the wheel of our life turns: we become deaf to both God and neighbor.

If we consider what has happened over these past few decades in our culture and society, we begin to realize something a great importance:

There is not only a physical deafness which largely cuts people off from social life; there is also a “hardness of hearing” where God is concerned… Put simply, we are no longer able to hear God – there are too many different frequencies filling our ears… Along with this hardness of hearing or outright deafness where God is concerned, we naturally lose the ability to speak with him and to him. And so we end up losing a decisive capacity for perception. We risk losing our inner senses… The horizon of our life is disturbingly foreshortened.[2]

But now and again something happens to lengthen our vision and shake us back into reality.

This is precisely what happened with the great Doctor of the Church, Saint Augustine of Hippo, who famously said to God,

You called me; you cried aloud to me; you broke my barrier of deafness. You shone upon me; your radiance enveloped me; you put my blindness to flight. You shed your fragrance about me; I drew breath and now I gasp for your sweet odour. I tasted you, and now I hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am inflamed with love of your peace.[3]

The Lord God shouted through Augustine’s deafness, his inability to perceive the one who is merciful love itself; his healing touch was proved irresistible. The same can happen to us; God can reach out, touch us, and heal our deafness and inner senses when we begin to inquire into the meaning of our existence.

The daughter of J.R.R. Tolkien’s publisher wrote to the Professor with the question, “What is the purpose of life?” Before answering her question, Tolkien rightly noted that “if you do not believe in a personal God the question: ‘What is the purpose of life?’ is unaskable and unattainable. To whom or what would you address the question?”[4] In the end, Tolkien answered the question with typical insight: “So it may be said that the chief purpose of life, for any one of us, is to increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all the means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks.”[5]

We learn best, of course, through our senses and so we must continually ask the Lord Jesus to touch them and heal them, to make them ever more open to perceiving him. Accordingly, our knowledge of God must be both of the mind and of the heart; it is not enough to know about God; it must, rather, be a personal knowledge, a personal encounter, or else we cannot give him fitting thanks.

Detail, Jesus heals the deaf and mute man, Codex Palatinus Vindobonensis 485, f. 86

We have among us today one whose deafness the Lord Jesus shouted through and has recognized God to be the center of his personal life. Over these past many months, Luke, you have heard the Savior and Redeemer continually call to you in various ways, inviting you into a relationship with him. You have responded with curiosity and integrity and the horizon of your life has widened to perceive God more clearly. For this, we give thanks to God and ask him to reawaken this perception of his grace in each of our lives.

Now you have come to the Church requesting the grace of Baptism. We know that

Baptism opens up a path before us. It makes us part of the community of those who are able to hear and speak; it brings us into fellowship with Jesus himself, who alone has seen God and is thus able to speak of him (cf. John 1:18): through faith, Jesus wants to share with us his seeing God, his hearing the Father and his converse with him. The path upon which we set out at Baptism is meant to be a process of increasing development, by which we grow in the life of communion with God, and acquire a different way of looking at man and creation.[6]

In short, the path of Baptism obliges us to do what Tolkien said, namely to increase our knowledge of God in every way we can and so fall more deeply in love with him. It obliges us to continually open our hearts to him who allowed his heart to be opened to us.

In various ways, Luke, the Lord Jesus has touched you – as he soon will in the waters of Baptism - and said to you, “Ephphatha,” “Be opened!” He says this not only of your ears, but also of your eyes, mouth, hands, and heart. You must allow your ears to be opened to hear the voice of God; your eyes to see his handiwork; your mouth to proclaim what he has done for you; your hands to receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit through the Sacrament of Confirmation; and your heart to receive his love in the gift of his very self in the Eucharist.

Through the witness of the example of your faith, we who have already been incorporated into Christ must strengthen our resolve to also be entirely open to God and so be inflamed with the love of his peace. May he bring us, with you, to eternal life, the great promise of Baptism into his Death and Resurrection. Amen.

[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 10 September 2006.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, X.27. R.S. Pine-Coffin, trans. (London: Penguin Books, 1961), 232.

[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 310 To Camilla Unwin, 29 May 1868. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien: Revised and Expanded Edition. Humphrey Carpenter, ed. (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2023), 561.

[5] Ibid., 562.

[6] Pope Benedict XVI, Ibid.

Address at the Blessing of Athletes at Quincy University

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Thu, 05 Sep 2024 02:24:00 +0000

Dear brothers and sisters,

Over the years I have been called many things, but never have I been called an athlete (and rightly so, for I much prefer reading books and playing (old) video games and board games to competing athletically. With this in mind, it may seem odd I have been given a few moments to speak to you this evening, but I hope I can say something of interest to you.

PHOTO: Denny Sinnock

When I was a young priest and assigned to a parish with a high school, I found myself – at the insistence of the students – as first the assistant coach to the boys’ soccer team, then to the track team, and then to the boys’ wrestling team. More than a coach, it always seemed to me the students saw me more as a mascot and even perhaps as something of a life coach. My time spent on the busses and on the benches remain one of the primary blessings of my life, for lasting friendships were forged amid the context of athletic competitions; I have had the great joy of officiating at several of their weddings and baptizing a few of their children.

This camaraderie, this fraternity, this friendship established around a healthy competitiveness and a desire to push others to excel is the greatest blessing sports has to offer to men and women, to boys and girls. Do not lose sight of this. Do not put yourself ahead of your teammates but put yourself at their service, encouraging them always. Catch one another when one of you stumbles. Pick one another up when one of you falls. If you help each other in this way, you will help each other to renew your strength through the goodness of your shared humanity.

There is, however, a sort of athletic competition I do take part in, that of a certain mental gymnastics. When Father John Doctor, O.F.M. first showed me the reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah proclaimed for us this evening (Isaiah 40:29-31), my first thought turned to the writings of the great J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, because eagles play a prominent role in his tales. The eagles arrive always in the nick of time to rescue the main characters from what appears certain doom.

Some people have asked why the eagles didn’t simply fly Frodo and Sam directly to Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring. To these people, Tolkien had a simple answer, which you can watch him give on a video on YouTube: “Shut up.”

More seriously, and more importantly, Tolkien called the coming of the eagles a eucatastrophe, which is to say

a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.[1]

Your victory in athletic pursuits can give a fleeting glimpse of joy, a foretaste of that fullness of Joy which will be known by those who have competed well in this life and find themselves at last before the Face of God (cf. II Timothy 4:7).

That said, my thoughts turned next to those most curious of texts, the medieval bestiaries, books something like a combination of a zoology textbook and a book of mythology. The medievals knew that, because everything that exists is created by God, there must be some mark of the Creator in each created thing. The bestiaries not only give an indication to the nature and habitat of various animals, but also what we can learn about God from them.

Turning, then, to the bestiaries, they say something intriguing about the eagle that we know, in point of fact, to be untrue. Nonethess, that did not stop them from allegorizing the eagle. Taking their cue from the verse we heard from Isaiah that those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength like the eagle (cf. Isaiah 40:31), the bestiaries say something like this:

And it is a true fact that when the eagle grows old and his wings become heavy and his eyes become darkened with a mist, then he goes in search of a fountain, and, over against it, he flies up to the height of heaven, even unto the circle of the sun; and there he singes his wings and at the same time evaporates the fog of his eyes, in a ray of the sun. Then at length, taking a header down into the fountain, he dips himself three times in it, and instantly he is renewed with a great vigour of plumage and splendour of vision.[2]

What are we to make of this strange account? The bestiaries tell us:

Do the same thing, O Man, you who are clothed in the old garment and have the eyes of your heart growing foggy. Seek for the spiritual fountain of the Lord and lift up your mind’s eyes to God – who is the fount of justice – and then your youth will be renewed like the eagle’s.[3]

Be, then, hawks, like the eagle. Soar high, and bathe in the fountain of God. If you do, we will be renewed and refreshed for you will have realized the wisdom of Saint Augustine who famously said to God, “you made us for yourself and our hearts find no peace until they rest in you.”[4] Amen.

Go hawks!

[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, On Fairy Stories.

[2] T.H. White, ed. and trans., The Book of Beasts: Being a Translation from a Latin Bestiary of the Twelfth Century (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 2013), 106-107.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, I.1.

Farewell Homily to St. Augustine's Parish - 11 August 2024 - The Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinarty Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 11 Aug 2024 18:42:00 +0000

The Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Dear brothers and sisters,

Mother Church presents us today with two seemingly contradictory messages. First, we heard the Prophet Elijah, who has suffered greatly because of his service of God, say, “This is enough, I Lord! Take my life, for I am no better than my fathers” (I Kings 19:4). Hearing Elijah’s overdramatic complaint and after he took a nap, God gives him simple advice: “Get up and eat, else the journey will be too long for you” (I Kings 19:7)! This is one of my favorite passages because it proves that one cure for sadness has not changed over the centuries: sleep and food. (Saint Thomas Aquinas will later also advise a glass of wine and a warm bath.)

The second seemingly contradictory message we heard in the Psalm: “I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall be ever in my mouth” (Psalm 34:2). Maybe Elijah missed that memo. Saint Augustine, though, did not.

Pondering this verse, the Doctor of Grace asked a straightforward question: “When are you to bless the Lord?” He considered various circumstances in life in response to his question:

When he showers blessings on you? When earthly goods are plentiful? When you have a plethora of grain, oil, wine, gold, silver, slaves, livestock; while your mortal body remains healthy, uninjured and free from disease; while everything that is born on your estate is growing well, and nothing is snatched away by untimely death; while every kind of happiness floods your home and you have all you want in profusion? Is it only then that you are to bless the Lord? No, but “at all times” (Psalm 34:2). So you are to bless him equally when from time to time, or because the Lord God wishes to discipline you, these good things let you down or are taken away from you, when there are fewer births or the already-born slip away. These things happen and their consequence is poverty, need, hardship, disappointment and temptation. But you sang: “I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall be ever in my mouth,” so when the Lord gives you good things, bless him, and when he takes them away, bless him.

The memory of this part is essential: God never takes himself away from me; he never takes himself away from you. Do not forget this!

We know how easy it is to bless God, to praise him and thank him, when everything is, as it were, going our way. But when the storms of life come – as they surely will – and everything seems to be falling apart, blessing, praising, and thanking God becomes more difficult and requires a conscious and intentional effort. Perhaps this is the point; blessing, praising, and thanking God should not be an unthinking or automatic response to the situations of life, but a deliberate response to whatever circumstances we find ourselves in. At all times we must draw near to Christ Jesus, to him who never withdraws from us, and say with Job, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21)!

Today the sadness of Elijah and the gratitude of the Psalmist are both present in my heart as I prepare to take up the roles of Chaplain and Director of Campus Ministry, as well as that of Adjunct Assistant Professor, at Quincy University and will therefore soon cease to be your Pastor. As I have told you before, I am very eager to take up this ministry and pray the Lord will bless my efforts to help the university students come to know, to love, and to serve him. Still, my heart is heavy.

These past seven years with you have been one of the great blessings of my life; departing from you will not be easy. I cannot thank you enough for the support and encouragement you have given me, or especially for the many prayers you offered for me.

Looking back over these years since my arrival here, there have been:

29 baptisms;
2 receptions into the Catholic Church of those previously baptized;
4 weddings (one with Father Chuck Edwards, one with Deacon Greg Maynerich, one convalidation with me, and one wedding with me yesterday);
11 Confirmations (mostly during COVID-time); and,
33 funerals.

We have also accomplished a great deal together to improve the physical complex of this parish in a number of ways:

we trimmed back a few trees (though that, or more, needs to be done again);
we replaced the roof of the hall and of the church, and have money set aside to replace the roof of the rectory;
we replaced air conditioners and furnaces at both the hall and the rectory and replaced the church boiler with furnaces;
we replaced the refrigerators in the hall;
we replaced the flooring, windows, and exterior doors of the rectory, as well as the stove, washer, and dryer;
we installed a new organ; and,
we repainted the Nativity set statues.

Hopefully the next major project here will involve a renovation of the bathrooms and kitchen in the hall.

The financial resources of the parish have also improved in a mind-boggling way:

· you contributed $94,000 to our capital campaign that had a goal of $70,000, which allowed us to improve the physical plant;

· looking at the calendar year, the average weekly collection has increased over these seven years by more than $500 each week, despite the increased costs to just about everything; and,

· our capital campaign fund still has around $20,000 in it and our checking account has around $45,000 in it and our savings account around $70,000, funds which will go a long way to making continued improvements.

The financial situation of the parish caused me stress in my first few months, but your impressive generosity quickly took that worry away.

Each of these accomplishments demonstrates some of the strengths of this parish and the commitment of you, its parishioners. It is remarkable for a parish of 58 households! Still, if these accomplishments are all we have accomplished during my pastorate, I will have failed as your Pastor and should with Elijah, “This is enough, O Lord. Take my life…”

When I was installed as your Pastor, I told you I came with no particular agenda, save one. You may recall these words I said to you:

When a new pastor arrives in a parish, many of the parishioners wonder what program he will enact. The only program, if you will, which I hope to enact is to help you prepare to see the face of Christ more clearly, to help you draw near to him and bask in the light of his face, a light which can transform us and make us like himself. I hope to help you seek the Lord not in curiosity, but in love, to not only hear his voice speaking in the quiet of your hearts, but to see his face and become witnesses of his majesty and to take your places within the Father’s house.[1]

Looking back, I fear the necessary physical improvements may have sometimes distracted me from focusing on my intended goal. Yet I must hear the Lord say, “Get up and eat, else the journey will be too long for you.”

By God’s grace, I pray we have been able to draw nearer together to the Face of God, to see him more clearly, to be conformed more closely to him, and more prepared to dwell with him in love. If this has been achieved, then my time as your Pastor will have been a success.

No matter where we are in the world, no matter how many miles lie between us, whenever we look to Lord and draw near to him, we will not be far apart; gathered at his altar we are ever close to one another through Christ Jesus. This is the great mystery of his love that forms us each into his Body.

With this in mind, let us not dwell too much on sadness today, but give thanks to God for the time he has allowed us to have together. As Saint Augustine’s heart was pierced with the love of God, so has my heart been pierced with your love. You will always have a place in my heart and a remembrance in my daily prayers; please, remember me in yours.

As we continue to seek the Face of God, let us pray with Saint Augustine:

You have radiated forth, you have shined out brightly, and you have dispelled my blindness. You have sent forth your fragrance, and I have breathed it in, and I long for you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst for you. You have touched me, and I ardently desire your peace.[2]

May the Lord fulfill our longing, thirst, and desire, and gather us together again before his Face. Amen.

[1] Daren J. Zehnle, Homily at the Mass of Installation as Pastor of St. Augustine Parish in Ashland, Illinois, 6 August 2017.

[2] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, X.27.38.

Homily - The Wedding of Quinlan Mahoney and Chris DeGroot

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 11 Aug 2024 18:29:00 +0000

The Wedding of Quinlan Mahoney and Chris DeGroot

Dear brothers and sisters,

We have come together this afternoon, in this church dedicated to the honor of God and of Saint Augustine of Hippo, to witness the exchange of consent of Chris and Quinlan, and to celebrate with them as they “establish between themselves a partnership of their whole life.” By its very nature, this union “is ordered to the well-being of the spouses and to the procreation and upbringing of children” (canon 1055).

On behalf of the couple, I greet you, their family and friends, with affection and I welcome you in the name of Christ. I thank you for the love, support, and encouragement you show them by your presence with us today. I am confident they will count on you in the days, weeks, and years ahead for this same encouragement, support, and love. Now, my friends, before we witness the exchange of their promises to live in committed love until death, I ask you to allow me to speak directly to the couple; you, of course, may listen in.

Chris and Quinlan, we, your family and friends, and I, the Church’s minister, are truly happy to share in your joy and in your love for each other. It is fitting that we gather here in this sacred place where the most important moments in life are held to seek merciful love of God. Today the Lord fulfills his promise to “turn their mourning into joy” and “show them compassion and have them rejoice after their sorrows” (Jeremiah31:13).

Although it is becoming less obvious to some, we know man and woman different from each other both physically and emotionally. We also know man and woman complement and complete each other. It is “for this reason [that] a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two but one flesh” (Mark 10:7-8).

You have chosen for us to hear of this complementarity today from the Book of Sirach: “Blessed be the husband of a good wife, twice-lengthened are his days; a worthy wife brings joy to her husband, peaceful and full is his life” (Sirach 26:1-2). At first glance, it may seem as though Sirach speaks only of blessings for the husband since the wife is mentioned only in relation to him. The opposite, however, is also true: the husband is only mentioned in relation to his wife. Both are so intimately connected that they cannot be spoken of apart from the other. A wife can only bring joy to her husband if he has also brought joy to her and a wife delights her husband because he delights her. A husband and wife are mutual gifts to each other; there is no other way around it. A wife is a gift to her husband and a husband is a gift to his wife. Only in this way can Sirach say, “Be he rich or poor, his heart is content, and a smile is ever upon his face” (Sirach 26:4).

But what is it that binds a man and a woman so deeply together that they cannot be spoken of apart from each other? What brings them together and unites them so deeply? The answer is found in what Jesus says to us today, “Therefore what God has joined together, no human being must separate” (Mark 10:9). It is God, therefore, the God who “is love,” who so intimately unites man and woman together as one (I John 4:4-8). Love is the bond that makes them “one flesh” (Mark 10:8).

This naturally brings us to a consideration of what love is at its core. We can rightly say that “love is the bond of perfection in the sense that it completes and unifies the virtues, and more importantly it perfects, or matures, the community itself.”[1]

“The love between man and woman which is neither planned nor willed, but somehow imposes itself upon human beings” is no mere infatuation; it is no mere flurry of giddy emotions; no, this love is much more than the swirling of butterflies in one’s stomach.[2] Whether it is recognized as such or not, the love that unites a man and woman together is the same love that drove the only Son of God to abandon the glory of heaven and to take upon himself our frail humanity; it is the same love that led the Son of God to take upon himself the sins of the world and die upon the cross for our salvation.; it is the same love that raised the only Son of God from the dead; it is the very love that sent the Holy Spirit to be with us always. God’s love for us is very much a nuptial love and it is what unites a man and woman together in marriage. It is the core, the center, the very foundation, of the married life that you, Chris and Quinlan, seek to enter today.

The “still more excellent” way of love of which Saint Paul speaks is the imitative love of God manifest for us in Christ Jesus. The one who loves in this way does not seek his or own good, but only the good of the beloved. For such a one, “love now becomes concern and care for the other. No longer is it self-seeking, a sinking in the intoxication of happiness; instead it seeks the good of the beloved: it becomes renunciation and it is ready, and even willing, for sacrifice.”[3]

There is a temptation today to over-romanticize marriage, to think it will somehow automatically bring about a life of bliss without any difficulties whatever. The reality, however, as any honest couple will tell you, is not quite so picture perfect. Marriage is difficult and requires compromise, patience, and gentleness; and when these are embraced, marriage is also beautiful, perhaps because of its difficulties. Marriage is quite simple, but it is not easy. It is simple because, at its core, marriage involves only one thing, namely, that every day each spouse must desire the good of the other above his or her own and labor to obtain that good for the beloved. In this, marriage daily requires self-denial, and, for this very reason, it is far from easy.

If you will allow me to return for a moment to that first line we heard from Sirach: “Blessed the husband of a good wife.” We know, as we said, the opposite is equally true: “Blessed the wife of a good husband.” Quinlan, I sometimes have a concern when a Christian desires to marry someone who is not yet baptized because of the importance of faith in uniting a couple, but I cannot say I had these same concerns with the two of you. Chris, thank you for the quiet, gentle, and strong support you have been for Quinlan in days that have been of the deepest sorrow. To quote Samwise Gamgee, you “showed your quality: the very highest.”[5] Continue to stand by her in the same manner. If you and Quinlan love each other each day with this same selfless love, your love will never fail, and you will have joy to surmount every sorrow (I Corinthians 13:8).

Quinlan and Chris, may you always smile at each other. May you always teach each other and learn from each other the still more excellent way of love. And may the example of your married life teach others the way to perfection. Amen.

[1] Dennis Hamm, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture: Philippians, Colossians, Philemon (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2013), 220.

[2] Pope Benedict XVI, Deus caritas est, 3.

[3] Ibid., 6.

[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter to Michael Tolkien, 6-8 March 1941. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Humphrey Carpenter, ed. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000), 51.

[5] Ibid., The Two Towers: Being the Second Part of the Lord of the Rings, “The Window on the West.”

Homily for the Wedding of Matthew Deters and Magdalen Hun

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sat, 27 Jul 2024 14:20:00 +0000

The Wedding of Matthew Deters and Magdalen Hun

Dear brothers and sisters,

Permit me, if you will, to pose to you a most important question in a couple of different ways. Why do you follow the Lord Jesus Christ? Why do we dare to call ourselves Christians? I ask these questions because we have just heard how “a large crowd followed him, because they saw the signs he was performing on the sick” (John 6:1).

Within this great crowd of followers and hangers on existed a great variety of purposes and reasons for following this rabbi from Nazareth. Some followed him, we can be sure, out of a sincere and deep faith in their recognition of Jesus as “the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” as Saint Peter would come to know (Matthew 16:16). Others surely followed him because they were curious and wondering, joining the crowd simply to see what might happen next, like the tax collector Zacchaeus who “was seeking to know who Jesus was” (Luke 19:3). Still others were certainly skeptical about this “carpenter’s son” and followed him so they might learn where he found such “wisdom and mighty deeds” (Matthew 13:55, 54). Others yet followed because they saw within the miracles he worked the telltale sign of the coming of the long-awaited king would restore the kingdom of David (cf. John 6:15).

Each of these more than five thousand individuals followed Jesus for a specific reason, whether it be praiseworthy or not. None followed Jesus for no reason at all; each had their own motive. None followed the crowd simply to keep the status quo; none remained apathetic. Can the same be said of us? What have you seen in the person of Jesus Christ that leads you to follow him? Have you heard him say to you, “Follow me” (John 1:43)? What led you to follow the one who is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6)?

Some see in Jesus an abundance of food, and rightly so; he is “the living bread come down from heaven” (John 6:51). Others see in him an abundance of health, and rightly so; “he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and he drove out many demons” (Mark 1:32, 34). Others yet see in him an abundance of justice, and rightly so; he “is just in all his ways and holy in all his works” (Psalm 145:17). Others see in him understanding, and rightly so; he is wisdom itself. Others seek riches in him, and rightly so; he is the “treasure buried in the field” and the “pearl of great price” (Matthew 13:44, 46). Some see in him unending life, and rightly so; he alone has “the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

Just as Jesus asked Saint Andrew, so he asks you and me: “What are you looking for” (John 1:38)? What it is you seek, you will find it in Christ Jesus. “Ask and it will be given you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you” (Matthew 7:7). He will satisfy your every need and for this reason Our Lady says to us, “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:5).

Jesus had Andrew give him the five barely loaves and the two fish; in short, he had Andrew give him all he had. Nothing was to be held back, and so it is with us. Everything we have and are must be handed over to Jesus: our strengths and our weaknesses; our joys and our sorrows; our fidelity and our sin; nothing can be held back.

It is true that when we come before Jesus, we, like Andrew, recognize how small and insignificant we are. As we offer ourselves to Jesus with all that we have, we are tempted to ask, “but what good are these for so many” (John 6:9)? Pope Benedict XVI once said, “Many times we feel like useless servants, and it is true. And, despite this, the Lord calls us friends; he makes us his friends; he gives us his friendship.”[1]

Matthew and Magdalen, in looking to Jesus for the satisfaction of your hearts’ desire, he has led you to each other. Today, even as you offer yourselves to Jesus, you offer yourselves to each other. Just as we cannot hold back anything of ourselves from Jesus, so you must not hold back anything of yourselves from each other.

You may be tempted to think the gift of yourself is a meagre offering, too little to be of much good. Do not give in to such self-doubt. Through the Sacrament of Marriage, the Lord Jesus wishes to use you as an instrument of his love. As individuals, he wishes you to be an example of his love to each other; as a couple, he wishes you to be an example of his love before the world. When placed in the service of God, no gift is too humble.

In offering yourselves to each other, you make something of a sacrifice; you say “no” to a romantic relationship with everyone else, but you also make a loving “yes” to each other. It is a most beautiful gift you are about to make, but one that brings with it the Cross, for in the bonds of marriage, a husband is bound to care more about his wife than he cares about himself. Likewise, in the bonds of marriage, a wife is bound to care more about her husband than she cares about herself.

Because a sacred bond joins those united in holy matrimony, a bond which the Apostle Saint Paul calls “a great mystery,” marriage brings the considerable danger of more opportunities to sin by not living up to the promises made between husband and wife before God and his Church; marriage provides more opportunities for a man and woman to fail to be suitable partners for each other (Ephesians 5:32; cf. Genesis 2:18). This considerable danger is the very reason why Jesus raised the natural state of marriage to a sacrament, to infuse it with his grace and provide a supernatural aid to those called to live the still more excellent way of love in marriage so their love can always be a reflection of Jesus’ love for his Bride, the Church (cf. Ephesians 5:25).

There is a temptation today to over-romanticize marriage, to think it will somehow automatically bring about a life of bliss without any difficulties whatever. The reality, however, as any honest couple will tell you, is not quite so picture perfect. Marriage is difficult and requires compromise, patience, and gentleness; and when these are embraced, marriage is also beautiful, perhaps because of its difficulties. Like the Christian life in general, marriage is quite simple, but it is not easy. It is simple because, at its core, marriage involves only one thing, namely, that every day each spouse must desire the good of the other above his or her own and labor to obtain that good for the beloved. In this, marriage daily requires self-denial, and, for this very reason, it is far from easy.

Faithfulness in Christian marriage entails that: great mortification… No man, however truly he loved his betrothed and bride as a young man, has lived faithful to her as a wife in mind and body without deliberate conscious exercise of the will, without self-denial. Too few are told that – even those brought up ‘in the Church’.[2]

If you, Matthew and Magdalen, would have your marriage survive the difficulties that will daily beset you, if you would walk the way of love, if you would be worthy of each other, then you, too, must both fix your whole heart upon God; you must live in his friendship. Your love must always have its foundation in the love of Christ Jesus, in the love expressed so clearly on the Cross. It is this same love that you must reflect for each other and for the world; you must become sacramental signs of Jesus’ love for every person by daily believing in it, by daily confessing it, and by daily attesting to it.

Saint Rose of Lima said, “Apart from the cross, there is no other ladder by which we may get to heaven.”[3] In marriage, you must help each climb the ladder of the Cross, sometimes pushing each other higher and sometimes pulling each other up. You must be for each other the embodiment of love. To become such a sign of love, to become a sign of this way of perfection, is not easy, but with the grace of God it is possible, admirable, and desirable. If you help one another fix your hearts of God, you will be able to keep your promises and, having been found faithful to each other, the Lord Jesus will welcome you both into his Kingdom and satisfy your every desire. Amen.

[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily before the Conclave, 18 April 2005.

[2] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter to Michael Tolkien, 6-8 March 1941. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Humphrey Carpenter, ed. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000), 51.

[3] Saint Rose of Lima, cf. P. Hansen, Vita Mirabilis (Louvain, 1668). In Catechism of the Catholic Church, 618.

Homily - 30 June 2024 - The Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sat, 29 Jun 2024 12:46:00 +0000

Dear brothers and sisters,

We are reminded today of something we too often forget, namely, that “God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living” (Wisdom 1:13). But because we experience death each day in one way or another, we presume death is a natural consequence of life; that we are born and die seems as normal as eating, drinking, and sleeping, but this does not make the experience of death any easier to bear.

From the beginning it was not so, “for God formed man to be imperishable” and only “by the envy of the devil [did] death enter the world” (Wisdom 2:23, 24). Death, then, is not natural, it is quite unnatural and not part of the original plan of God, yet he has nonetheless brought it into the workings of his Providence. Indeed, death was first given as a divine punishment, but

a divine “punishment” is also a divine “gift”, if accepted, since its object is ultimate blessing, and the supreme inventiveness of the Creator will make “punishments” (that is changes of design) produce a good not otherwise to be attained.[1]

The punishment of death because of our sin becomes a gift of God’s mercy, which is why can sing “at nightfall weeping enters in, but with the dawn, rejoicing” (Psalm 30:6). Death becomes the means God uses to change our “mourning into dancing,” for by death we are not bound forever to the drudgery of this life (Psalm 30:12; cf. Job 7:1).

Because God does not rejoice in the destruction of the living, he sent his Only Begotten Son among us. He willingly abandoned the glory of heaven and took on our frail humanity; he lived our life and died our death, giving his life for us on the Cross (cf. II Corinthians 8:9). Yet his death was not to be the end. He was raised from the dead by the power of the Father and his Resurrection destroyed forever the bonds of death. This is why the hope of the souls of the just is “full of immortality” (Wisdom 3:4). The just look to the Risen Lord, confident that he will raise their mortal bodies from the dust, as well, that they will live with him forever. His faithful long to hear his command, Koum, “Arise” (Mark 5:41).

And yet, if all Jesus has to do is issue the word of command, why must we still die, why must we suffer? This is a question without any obvious answer, but that does not mean we cannot say something about it.

Before the Lord Jesus ascended the throne of his Cross, he said to those who would be his disciples, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). From this it follows that just as the Cross was the only means to the Resurrection, so, too, is the Cross – in whatever it is presented to each of us – the means by which we will attain eternal life because our own crosses are a share in the Cross of Christ. This is why Saint Peter encourages us, saying,

Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal which comes upon you to prove you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed (I Peter 4:12-13).

The suffering we endure is an invitation to share in the sufferings of Christ, to complete in our flesh what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ for the sake of his body, the Church (see Colossians 1:24). If we seek to unite our sufferings together with the sufferings of Christ, our sufferings, like his, can be redemptive, both for us and for others; they can bring about a good unseen and even unlooked for.

If we are honest, each one of us will recognize we have a longing that extends beyond the realms of this world, a desire for something greater than this life can give; we have a yearning for life without end, but not simply an unending life as we know it now; such a life would be unbearable. We long, rather, to be with the Lord, to look upon the Face of the Creator who alone can fulfill the deepest aspirations of the human heart.

In one of his letters to his son Michael, J.R.R. Tolkien wrote beautifully of this desire: “There is a place called 'heaven' where the good here unfinished is completed; and where the stories unwritten, and the hopes unfulfilled, are continued. We may laugh together yet…”[2] When we gather at the altar of the Lord and offer him the worship that is his due, we pray we may one day laugh with our loved ones again, that our hopes may be fulfilled, our stories completed, and our good works finished. But how can this be?

Earlier we said that death, which was first a punishment brought about by the envy of the devil, is, paradoxically, also a gift that brings about something otherwise unattainable. What do we mean? The unexpected consequence of death – the unexpected gift of death – is heaven: “With this term "Heaven" we wish to say that God, the God who made himself close to us, does not abandon us in or after death but keeps a place for us and gives us eternity. We mean that in God there is room for us.”[3]

Before our expulsion from Paradise, before we rebelled against God and set ourselves up as his equals and rivals, God walked with us in the garden in the cool of the evening (cf. Genesis 3:7). Now, though, through the death and Resurrection of Christ Jesus, God does not simply walk among us but has opened himself up to us; now we can live not simply with God, but in God. And because there is now room for us within the One who is Goodness, Beauty, and Truth, within the One who is Love, the deepest yearnings of our hearts can be satisfied and fulfilled; indeed, they will be satisfied if we die in friendship with him.

To understand this reality a little better let us look at our own lives. We all experience that when people die they continue to exist, in a certain way, in the memory and heart of those who knew and loved them.

We might say that a part of the person lives on in them but it resembles a "shadow" because this survival in the heart of their loved ones is destined to end.

God, on the contrary, never passes away and we all exist by virtue of his love. We exist because he loves us, because he conceived of us and called us to life. We exist in God's thoughts and in God's love. We exist in the whole of our reality, not only in our "shadow".

Our serenity, our hope and our peace are based precisely on this: in God, in his thoughts and in his love, it is not merely a "shadow" of ourselves that survives but rather we are preserved and ushered into eternity with the whole of our being in him, in his creator love.

It is his Love that triumphs over death and gives us eternity and it is this love that we call "Heaven": God is so great that he also makes room for us.[4]

The Saints live now in God and experience the fullness of his love. May we be admitted one day to their company to know the fullness of happiness, joy, and peace forever. Amen.

[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 212.

[2] Ibid., Letter to Michael Tolkien, 9 June 1941.

[3] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 15 August 2010.

[4] Ibid.

Homily - 9 June 2024 - The Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Tue, 11 Jun 2024 23:19:00 +0000

The Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Dear brothers and sisters,

The beginning is always connected to the end and the end is always necessarily connected to the beginning. If we look closely at the opening chapters of the Book of Genesis we perceive an understanding of the world and of the cosmos very different from that of other religions and of our own secular age. This understanding of creation gives us a more insightful recognition of what it means to be human. The understanding of the high dignity of every man, woman, and child – and why that dignity has been marred – is essential to understanding both Judaism and Christianity.

What do we find if we consider these eight verses we have heard from the third chapter of Genesis? If we go back just a little, we find the context in which these verses occur: Adam and Eve have eaten the fruit of “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Genesis 2:17). They were forbidden to eat of this tree on pain of the loss of their deathless state: “From that tree you shall not eat; when you eat from it you shall die” (Genesis 2:17).

Detail, The Creation of Adam and Eve, etc., Add MS 10546, f. 5v

Now, having eaten of that tree, our first parents recognized their nakedness, which is to say they lost their innocence. Saint Augustine put it this way:

…they saw that they were naked, but with eyes asquint, to which the simplicity signified by nakedness seemed something to be ashamed of. And so, as they were no longer simple, they made themselves aprons from fig leaves, to cover their private parts, that is to conceal their simplicity, of which cunning pride was now ashamed.[1]

And because they were ashamed they hid from God, they tried to conceal themselves from God; the combination of their pride and shame something convinced such a ridiculous notion – hiding from God - was possible.

It is fair to say Adam and Eve rejected their state of original innocence and threw it away. Because they lost that simple innocence in which they were made, they came to fear God, which is why

Man is always in need of liberation from his fears and his sins. Man must ceaselessly learn or relearn that God is not his enemy, but his infinitely good Creator. Man needs to know that his life has a meaning, and that he is awaited, at the conclusion of his earthly sojourn, so as to share for ever in Christ's glory in heaven.[2]

If we are to encounter God when he comes toward us, we must let go of our pride and shame.

But how is it you and I share in the consequences of the original sin of our first parents?

Why do we have evil, pain, suffering, alienation, loneliness, and death? God is not the author of moral evil and human suffering. Death was not in God’s design for man. He did not make the world bent and broken in this way. Darkness descended as a result of Adam’s sin. He was given dominion, and his disobedience had dire consequences. Choices have legs and walk around, so to speak. Satan sneered in wicked glee as he watched death overshadow what God had seen as “very good” (Genesis 1:31). As Wisdom says, “Through the devil’s envy death entered the world, and those who belong to his party experience it” (Wisdom 2:24).[3]

Before any of us objects that we are part of the devil’s party, have I ever resisted or opposed God’s will? The answer is certainly yes, which means we are not fully part of God’s party. Adam and Eve rejected God’s will; we, too, reject God’s will. Just as we inherit physical – and even some emotional – traits from our parents, so we have inherited a spiritual fallenness from Adam and Eve.

At the very moment Adam and Eve rejected God’s will through disobedience,

…a spiritual death took place instantly, a separation between man and his God; a second death also began to work in mankind, a physical death in which the body is separated from soul. Other “deaths” also were at work: separation of man from man – Adam blames Eve. Later, Cain kills Abel, and a separation of man from himself so now he lies to and deceives himself; he has fear, loneliness, and psychological problems. Man is separated from nature – harmony with creation is broken, and the physical world now turns a hostile face to mankind. As a result of man’s sin, even the physical creation is cursed and suffers.[4]

Many people find themselves asking why so many tragedies and heart-breaking stories are heard every day – things such as bullying or the abandonment of a child. The answer is simple, even if not quite satisfactory: sin. Men, women, and children choose to listen to the deceptions of the Evil One and close their minds and hearts to God.

If the story simply stopped here, we might be tempted to despair, which is “only for those who see the end beyond all doubt.”[5] But we know how the story ends; we cannot fall into despair because the end is full of hope. We do indeed see the end beyond all doubt, but not as the despairing do. The end, as we said, is contained in the beginning: “…he will strike at your head, while you strike at his heel” (Genesis 3:15). The one who strikes at the head is certainly stronger, more powerful, than the one who strikes at the foot. “The colorful imagery foretells a future conflict between the devil and a man born of a woman,”[6] the man Jesus, the Second Adam, born of the Second Eve, Mary. It is what the ancients called the protoevangelium, the first Gospel or even the source of the Gospel. At the very moment mortality doomed humanity, God foresaw the restoration of mankind’s dignity.

There is yet more of the end contained in this beginning, something much more than a mere literary device.

Here in a garden Adam and Eve brought about death at the tree of life through their disobedience. Someday in another garden (Jn 19:41), the Last Adam (I Cor 15:45) and the New Eve will bring about life (I Cor 15:22) at the tree of death (Gal 3:13) through their obedience.[7]

This turn of events brims with hope and brings great comfort to those who ponder it, for it contains the unmistakable profundity of the merciful love of God.

All of this speaks to the purpose of human life, to the very meaning at the core of our existence. We were made to live in communion with God. We have rejected that communion with the Creator. Yet God does not leave us in this state, but goes to great lengths to make a way for us to have communion with him again. We must not reject or resist the means our salvation – the Death and Resurrection of Christ Jesus – but must embrace it and him and all that he commands us.

If you want to know why you exist, if you want to know the purpose for which you were born, it is this: “increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all the means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks.”[8] Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you. If we live in this way we shall walk again in the garden with God; we shall be with him in paradise forever. Amen.

[1] Saint Augustine of Hippo, On Genesis, II.23n

[2] Pope Benedict XVI, Address to the French Bishops, 14 September 2008.

[3] Steve Ray, Genesis: A Bible Study Guide and Commentary (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2023), 69.

[4] Ibid.

[5] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring: Being the First Part of the Lord of the Rings (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1994), 262.

[6] Steve Ray, Genesis, 71.

[7] Ibid.

[8] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 310 To Camilla Unwin, 20 May 1969.

Homily - The Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ - On the Mystery of Communion

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 02 Jun 2024 11:20:00 +0000

Dear brothers and sisters,

We have today the great joy of witnessing the reception of Caitlin Mahoney into the full communion of the Catholic Church, as well as sealing with the seven-fold gift of the Holy Spirit through the Sacrament of Confirmation. We also have the great joy of witnessing the incorporation of Gentry Mahoney into the Body of Christ through the Sacrament of Baptism. We do this in the midst of the liturgical celebration of the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ. The notion of communion is at the heart of each of these celebrations.

Caitlin, in a few moments, you will make your profession of faith in the teachings of the Catholic Church. The Church will receive you gladly as a member of the Baptized because, as Saint Paul says, there is “one Lord, one faith, one baptism” (Ephesians 4:5). Your communion with the Body of Christ began when you were baptized into a Baptist profession of faith. It was in this community that you came to know and love Christ Jesus; today you respond to the Lord’s call to enter more deeply into the knowledge and love of him by receiving the outpouring of the Holy Spirit as the grace of her Baptism is strengthened and through the reception of the Eucharist. This morning the Lord will complete your incorporation, your initiation, into his Body, the Church, even as he begins Gentry’s incorporation and initiation into his Body.

A new movie called Wildcat playing now in some theaters can help us understand the Eucharist more deeply. Wildcat is about the life of the Catholic author Flannery O’Connor who died of lupus at the age of 39 in 1964. She lived in the deep south where anti-Catholic sentiments were and remain strong. Her stories, though often intentionally gritty and uncompromising as regards the painful realities of life, are imbued with a forceful Catholic ethos.

The movie portrays a dinner party at which Flannery spoke very bluntly about the mystery of the Eucharist. This is how she recounts it in one of her letters:

I was once, five or six years ago, taken by some friends to have dinner with Mary McCarthy… She departed the Church at the age of 15 and is a Big Intellectual. …I hadn’t opened my mouth once, there being nothing for me in such company to say… Having me there was like having a dog present who had been trained to say a few words but overcome with inadequacy had forgotten them. Well, toward morning the conversation turned on the Eucharist, which I, being the Catholic, was obviously supposed to defend. Mrs. Broadwater said when she was a child and received the Host she thought of it as the Holy Ghost, He being the “most portable” person of the Trinity; now she thought of it as a symbol and implied that it was a pretty good one. I then said, in a very shaky voice, “Well, if it’s a symbol, to hell with it.” That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now that this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable.[1]

The more polite among us might say she spoke too forcefully, but she said nothing wrong or incorrect. “In its bluntness, clarity, and directness, Flannery O’Connor’s remark is one of the best statements of the Catholic difference in regard to the Eucharist.”[2]

Here we might well ask why Flannery was right to say, “if it’s a symbol, to hell with it.” If what appears to be bread and wine is merely a symbol of the Body and Blood of the Lord shed and offered out of love for us, then we commit idolatry when we kneel before it and it is rightly consigned to hell. But if what appears to be bread and wine has actually become the Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus through the power of his own words spoken by the priest, then it really is the inexependable center of all existence for it is God himself; it cannot be consigned to hell. Because Jesus cannot command us to do anything immoral or idolatrous, we have the certainty that the Eucharist – the good gift – is what he says it is: his very self, given to the Father and to us in love. This is why those who call the Eucharist nothing more than a symbol break communion with his Body and “call Our Lord a fraud to His face.”[3]

When Saint Augustine spoke about the reception of the Eucharist, of Holy Communion, he said something rather profound:

Inside each of you, thoughts like these are rising: "Our Lord Jesus Christ, we know the source of his flesh; he took it from the virgin Mary. Like any infant, he was nursed and nourished; he grew; became a youngster; suffered persecution from his own people. To the wood he was nailed; on the wood he died; from the wood, his body was taken down and buried. On the third day (as he willed) he rose; he ascended bodily into heaven whence he will come to judge the living and the dead. There he dwells even now, seated at God's right. So how can bread be his body? And what about the cup? How can it (or what it contains) be his blood?" My friends, these realities are called sacraments because in them one thing is seen, while another is grasped. What is seen is a mere physical likeness; what is grasped bears spiritual fruit. So now, if you want to understand the body of Christ, listen to the Apostle Paul speaking to the faithful: "Now you are Christ’s body, and individually parts of it" (I Corinthians 12:27). If you, therefore, are Christ's body and members, it is your own mystery that is placed on the Lord's table! It is your own mystery that you are receiving! You are saying "Amen" to what you are: your response is a personal signature, affirming your faith. When you hear "The body of Christ," you reply "Amen." Be a member of Christ's body, then, so that your "Amen" may ring true![4]

In order for our Amen to ring true we must be in union with Christ and with his Body, the Church he established; we must be in communion with him and his members. How do we enter into this union? Saint Paul speaks of being baptized into Christ as the means by which we are united to Christ (cf. Romans 6:3 and Galatians 3:27).

Later Christian communities rejected the universal Church’s ancient biblical and perennial teaching on the reality of the Eucharist, that it is not just a symbol but is actually the very Body and Blood, soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ. This departure from the teaching of the Apostles was a great tragedy and wounded the Body of Christ.

Being united to him necessarily means being united to the members of his Body, the Church. This is why the Catholic Church does not have what others call an “open communion;” it is why not everyone is allowed to receive the Eucharist. The reason for this is not to exclude others but to recognize the differences in beliefs. The word “communion” means “union with”; and to say “Amen” to “The Body of Christ” and “The Blood of Christ” is to profess belief that the Eucharist is not merely a symbol. It is also to profess faith in what the Catholic Church teaches in terms of beliefs and morality.

Those who do not believe what we believe may not receive the Eucharist because they are not in union with us, and we do not want to make them liars in the house of God; we want to affirm their integrity. Similarly, Catholics who attend a Protestant service are not able to receive their communion because we are not in union with them, and we do not want to be liars in the house of God; we want to keep our integrity. We should each implore the Lord that his people will again be one flock under one shepherd, that the communion of his Body will be restored.

Caitlin, of your own free will you have asked to be received into the full communion of the Catholic Church. You have made your decision after careful thought under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I now invite you to come forward with your sponsor and in the presence of this community to profess the Catholic faith. In this faith you will be one with us for the first time at the Eucharistic table of the Lord Jesus, the sign of the Church’s unity. May your Amen and ours always ring true.

[1] Flannery O’Connor, The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O’Connor. Sally Fitzgerald, ed. (New York: Vintage Books, 1980), 124-125.

[2] Robert Barron, This Is My Body: A Call to Eucharistic Revival (Elk Grove Village, Illinois: Word on Fire, 2023), 69-70.

[3] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 250 To Michael Tolkien, 1 November 1963. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Humphrey Carpenter, ed. (New York: William Morrow, 2023), 475.

[4] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 272.

Homily - Why does the Holy Spirit appear as a dove and as tongues of fire?

daren@servantandsteward.org (The Rev. Daren J. Zehnle) — Sun, 19 May 2024 17:06:00 +0000

The Solemnity of Pentecost (B)

Dear brothers and sisters,

In the beginning, “the earth was a formless void, there was darkness over the deep, and God’s spirit hovered over the water” (Genesis 1:1). We see here the presence of the Holy Spirit at the dawn of creation. We also see the Holy Spirit present at the creation of humanity: “the Lord God formed man out of the clay of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and so man became a living being” (Genesis 2:7). The breath of the Holy Spirit both creates and gives life.

It is rather curious that when the Holy Spirit descended upon the Lord Jesus in the waters of the Jordan that he came down in the form of a dove, but when he descended upon the Apostles at Pentecost he did so in the form of “tongues as of fire” (cf. Matthew 3:16; Mark 1:10; Luke 3:22; and John 1:32; Acts 2:3). Why does the Holy Spirit manifest himself in these different ways?

Detail, The descent of the Holy Spirit. Livre d’Heures d’Anne d’Autriche à l’usage de Rome, MS NAL 3090, f. 70r.

We are not told in the Scriptures why there is this difference, but still, we can posit a reason. If we consider the dove, this bird is said to be

…very meek, and innocent, and peaceful. The Savior is the Judge of all mankind, but he did not come to judge mankind, as he himself said, but to save… He wanted to guide us first with gentleness, so that he might afterwards save us at his judgment. This is why the Holy Ghost was seen above Christ in the likeness of a dove, because he was dwelling in this world in meekness, and innocence, and peacefulness.[1]

The natural characteristics of the dove provide insight as to one of the Holy Spirit’s manifestations.

Before we consider what the natural properties of fire can tell us about this manifestation of the Holy Spirit, we should first consider why he manifested himself as tongues of fire? He did so because

…it was by tongues [namely those of the serpent, of Adam, and of Eve] that death entered into the world (cf. Wisdom 2:24). The tongue of the serpent was poison to Eve, the tong of Eve poisoned Adam, and Adam’s tongue tried to turn the blame back on God. The tongue is a cold organ, surrounded by moisture; thus: “It is an unquiet evil, full of deadly poison” [James 3:8],” than which there is nothing colder. Therefore the Holy Spirit appeared in tongues of fire, to apply tongues to tongues, fire to deadly poison.[2]

With his forked and deceitful tongue, the serpent spoke a great lie to Eve and tricked her into believing God did not want – or even know – what was best for her, what would lead her to happiness, fulfillment, and peace. Through her conniving, Eve convinced Adam it was safe to eat the fruit of the tree of which they were forbidden to eat. Through his pride, Adam refused to accept responsibility for his action, blaming first Eve for having tricked him and, second, God for placing Eve by his side.

It was, then, through breath and the tongue that the poison of sin entered creation and doomed mankind to eternal death; now it is through breath and the tongue that the antidote to the poison of sin is given to a fallen world. Today, through the breath and tongue of the Holy Spirit the Lord “renew[s] the face of the earth” by bestowing upon us his seven-fold gifts.

Through the power of the Holy Spirit God the Father raised the Lord Jesus from death and restored him to life. As the Crucified and Risen Savior breathed the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles, he breathed into them his very own life. Jesus breathes this same Spirit upon us so we, too, might have a share in his life. As Jesus breathed the Holy Spirit anew in this fashion, what was done through the breath and tongue of serpent, of Eve, and of Adam has been undone; all has been restored and renewed.

Now we come to the question of fire. The element of fire “has four natures: it burns, it cleanses, it warms, it gives light.” Similarly, the Holy Spirit burns away sins, cleanses hearts, shakes off sloth, and enlightens ignorance.”[3]

It is the fire of the Holy Spirit we received at Baptism that burns away the poison of sin and cleanses us from its filth. It is the fire of the Holy Spirit that convicts us of our sins by waking us from our slumbering laziness and fills us with the bright light of truth. In this way we are recreated. We must be open to the movement of the Holy Spirit within us; we must not stifle his work, but rather yield to him and so come to an ever more profound understanding of the love Christ the Lord showers upon us sinners. We must allow him to set our hearts aflame with divine love so the light of the world might shine brightly through us (cf. John 8:12).

Saint Augustine sums up for us why the Holy Spirit appeared as both a dove and as fire. He says, “The former shape denoted simplicity, the latter fervency…. The dove intimates that those who are sanctified by the Spirit should have no guile; the fire indicates that in that simplicity there should not be coldness.”[4]

Many people today often ask why the power of the Lord, why the outpouring of the Holy Spirit is not more manifest today, why it is not more clearly visible as it was in the time of the Apostles. We cannot forget the “Holy Spirit, ‘sharing with each as he will’ [cf. I Corinthians 12:11], breathes his grace where, how, how much, when and on whom he will.”[5] We should each pray he will pour out his gifts upon us, but we must first make room for him in our hearts because

…this power, the grace of the Holy Spirit, is not something we can merit or achieve, but only receive as pure gift. God’s love can only unleash its power when it is allowed to change us from within. We have to let it break through the hard crust of indifference, our spiritual weariness, our blind conformity to the spirit of this age. Only then can we let it ignite our imagination and shape our deepest desires.[6]

We cannot tell him what gift we want or in what way we want to receive it; rather, we must simply allow him to move as he wills, desiring whatever grace he chooses to give and for whatever purpose. Only then can we, too, speak “of the mighty acts of God” (Acts 2:11). Let us, then, ask the Holy Spirit to breathe upon us, to shake the foundations of our cold hearts with the fire of his love, and loose our tongues to sing the praises of him who is risen from the dead. Amen.

[1] Blessed Aelfric of Eynsham, Sermon on the Holy Day Pentecost. Benjamin Thorpe, trans., The Homilies of the Anglo-Saxon Church (London: 1844).

[2] Saint Anthony of Pauda, Sermon of Pentecost, 3.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Tractates on the Gospel of John, 6.3-5.

[5] Saint Anthony of Padua, Sermon of Pentecost, 3.

[6] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 20 June 2008.