Homilía por la Fiesta de San Blas (en Español con pocos cambios)

Ni la enfermedad ni la muerte tienen la última palabra en nuestras historias.

Y cuando hablo de historias, quiero hablar un poco de las películas.

Primero: cuando era niño, me encantaban las películas. Hoy también me encantan. Y de mi juventud, mis favoritas eran las películas que fueran adaptaciones de mis libros favoritos. Fue muy emocionante ver mis historias favoritas en la pantalla, y decidir si el director tenía las mismas ideas que yo.

Y también, porque ya conocía la historia, de las partes que daban miedo, no tenía miedo. Ya conocía el final. Y aún más cuando supe cómo se hacían las películas - cómo se hacían los efectos especiales, las acrobacias y las luchas, todo.

La vida de fe es similar. Ya conocemos el final de la gran historia de todo el mundo. Y las partes difíciles que - aun realidades - por las que pasamos no son finales. Solo necesitamos fe.

Y claro que la virtud de fe no es simplemente como ilusión, como un deseo. Fe, como virtud, es confianza completa en que lo que ha prometido Dios se cumplirá.

Segundo - uno de los detalles que encanto de las películas es que, aunque vemos la escena en la pantalla, en realidad, hay una muchedumbre. Sí, hay los actores, pero a cada lado de la pantalla, donde no podemos ver, hay el director, los escritores, la gente con los micrófonos y las cámaras. También, hay una mesa con comida, y todos están mirando y trabajando para asegurar que la historia continúa sin falta o error. También nosotros estamos rodeados en realidad. No es una muchedumbre - es una, como dice las escrituras, una nube de testigos.

Como San Blas y San Óscar, San Guillermo, San Sebastián Mártir, San José, y Nuestra Señora. Aunque no podemos verlos, están aquí ayudando, y manteniendo la Gran Historia, en la cual todos nosotros tenemos una parte, y cuyo final ya conocemos.

El Señor dice dos veces en el evangelio - hija, tu fe te ha salvado y al jefe de la sinagoga no temas, solamente cree. Empezamos con la virtud de fe. No simplemente un deseo, pero con confianza completa.

Homily for Feast of St. Blase, Bishop and Martyr

Mark 5:21-43

We learn from the Gospel today that neither disease nor death have the final word.

I loved movies as a kid. I loved watching them and I loved learning how they were made - all the special effects, the stunts, the whole process of making a movie. After I had seen a few ‘how they made it’ documentaries, the scary parts of movies weren’t so scary any more. They were a little scary, but then I’d remember that just out of frame, there were people standing around with lights and coffee cups. There were lighting experts, folks holding microphones, and crews with cameras. Somewhere was a director, and probably a catering truck with snacks.

So maybe that scene was a little less scary, because I knew how it came about and I knew that in the end, there wasn’t really a monster and that everyone on the screen was going to go home at the end of the day to their families. I loved movies even more once I knew how they worked.

A life of just a little faith follows some of these same contours. We know, in faith, how the story - The Big Story - ends. We know, in faith, what it is we’re here for, and where we’re going - or where we’re meant to be going, anyway.

The scary parts of our lives - disease, even death, are real for us. I wish they weren’t, but they are part of this fallen world. But we know they’re not the end. And like the movie set, just out of view, there is a cloud of others watching and helping, doing their part to keep the story moving along. Saint William, Saint Sebastian Martyr, Saint Joseph, and our Blessed Mother. Saint Blaise and Saint Ansgar, too. We’ll be asking St. Blaise to intercede for us shortly.

This confidence in the end, in the happy ending, where there is no disease and death is faith, and all we need is a little. I think there’s a lot here, right here in this room, or none of us would be here, but even it’s just starting as a little, it will be enough. Faith isn’t just wishful thinking. The virtue of faith is confidence that the Lord will deliver what he has promised, come what may in the meantime.

Your faith has saved you, says the Lord to the woman. In faith, Jairus knelt at His feet. Keep that faith. Tend to it carefully and it will carry you through the hard times, even the very hardest. In that faith, we find our peace.

Homilía para la Fiesta de la Presentación del Señor

Malaquias 3,1-4
Salmo 23, 7.8.9.10
Hebreos 2,14-18
Lucas 2,22-40

Despues de una vida de esperanza, Simeón ve el cumplimiento de las promesas de Dios - el Mesías, un niño en sus brazos. Aquí está la consolación de Israel, llevada al templo en obediencia de la Ley de Moisés.

Hay tantos símbolos y niveles en las lecturas de hoy, pero el tema principal es la luz. Mis ojos han visto dice Simeón y una luz que alumbra.

Esas palabras anticipan lo que nuestro Salvador diría en el evangelio de San Juan, que también dice mucho de luz y tinieblas, Yo soy la luz del mundo.

Hoy día bendicimos las velas, que nos recuerden constantemente de la luz de Jesucristo, que nos llama de las tinieblas y la luz que nosotros, en vez, estamos llamados a llevar a otros. No podemos ponerla debajo de una cesta, sino que en el candelero, como escuchamos en las lecturas de la semana pasada.

Nosotros hemos tenido un poco de mal tiempo, pero poco a poco, podemos ver que los días están creciendo. Incluso la luz del sol está regresando a nosotros.

Y como nuestro Señor era llevado al templo, y como las velas que bendicimos son llevadas y usadas en la misa y nuestras devociones, también recibimos - como Simeón y Ana - el Señor. Recibimos en los manos, en nosotros mismos en la Eucaristía.

Y es exactamente lo mismo como en el evangelio. No es un símbolo o una metáfora. Es nuestro Señor en toda su humanidad y divinidad. La bendición de Simeón es nuestra también! Que maravilla tomarlo en nuestros manos, tal como lo hizo, y rogar en silencio:

“Señor, ya puedes dejar morir en paz a tu siervo,
según lo que me habías prometido,
porque mis ojos han visto a tu Salvador,
al que has preparado para bien de todos los pueblos;
luz que alumbra a las naciones
y gloria de tu pueblo, Israel”.

Cuando profesamos cada Domingo, lo que creemos en el Credo, afirmamos que creemos en el Padre, el Hijo, y el Espíritu Santo - la Santa Trinidad. Creemos que hay tres Personas, pero solamente un Dios. Cada persona tiene su propia misión, pero porque Dios no puede ser dividido, donde hay una persona, las otras están también.

Dios el Espíritu, que descendió en el Pentecostés, movió a Simeón hacia el templo. Dios el Padre, que creó todo el universo, era llevado al mismo templo como Dios el Hijo, y sus manos eran tan pequeñas que casi no podían tocar las caras de los dos ancianos que lo recibieron con gozo.

Se viene a nosotros en la Eucaristía, también pequeño, también vulnerable. Recibámoslo con el mismo gozo, porque nuestros ojos hemos visto el Salvador, preparado para todos los pueblos - es decir que todo el mundo - y la gloria de su pueblo Israel - nosotros aquí hoy día.

Praise the Lord and pass the mustard

Homily for Friday of the Third Week of Ordinary Time

2 Samuel 11:1-4a, 5-10a, 13-17
Psalm 51:3-4, 5-6a, 6bcd-7, 10-11
Mark 45:26-34

Sometimes the Gospel calls us to action, and sometimes it calls us to reflect. I think this is one for reflection.

I am something of a frustrated gardener. For most of what I plant, the results are sort of mixed, but whenever a plant or flower reference comes up in the scriptures, I always dig in to learn a little more. What I learned about mustard is this: it grows everywhere. The one mentioned in the Gospel doesn’t grow here, but is cousin grows all around here and if you’ve got a few square feet of grass and leave it alone, you’ll get mustard greens. Medium sized, bright yellow flowers. You can’t miss them because come spring, they’re all over the place.

Not unlike our faith. We hear a lot about the Church declining in lots of places: parishes closing or combining, a lack of vocations, that sort of thing. Those places sound like they’re on another planet when I look around our own parish and diocese. What’s more, we’re not exactly a center of Catholicism for this part of the country. We’re very much in mission territory here.

And yet, our parishes are growing. Catholic schools are filling up quickly. We have a colossal number of seminarians in formation, and the Dominican motherhouse has no lack at all for novices. The Holy Spirit - and it can only be the Spirit - is on the move in Nashville. And that movement starts right here, in all the little seeds we plant every day with our words, actions, and the witness of our lives. The sort of community which produces a tremendous number of vocations is acting across decades, not overnight. Those tiny seeds grow into mighty plants, and the birds come and carry them to other places, where they grow and grow some more.

So I guess it turns out that there actually is a call to action and it’s this: keep doing what you’re doing. Keep praying. Keep up the kind words. Maintain your witness.

Before long we’ll all be covered in mustard, which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

La misa medida y la tierra rica del silencio

Homilia por el Jueves de la III semana del Tiempo ordinario

2 Samuel 7, 18-19. 24-29
Salmo 131, 1-2. 3-5. 11. 12. 13-14
Marcos 4, 21-25

La misma medida que utilicen para tratar a los demás, esa misma se usará para tratarlos a ustedes, y con creces. Al que tiene, se le dará; pero al que tiene poco, aun eso poco se le quitará.

Nuestro Señor nos enseña cómo debemos recibir sus enseñanzas. Aunque no tuvimos servicio ayer, el evangelio describió, con la parábola del sembrador, a los que reciben la palabra de Dios, y cómo en la tierra rica, las plantas pueden echar raíces profundas, crecer y producir ‘sesenta o ciento por uno.’

Seguimos hoy con un tema similar. Si recibimos las enseñanzas del Señor de manera superficial, solo tenemos poco. Tenemos que recibir sus enseñanzas, sus palabras en lo profundo de nuestras almas, oyendo con los oídos de nuestros corazones, como está escrito en el Prologo de la Regla de San Benito. Y cuanto más podamos recibir, más podemos crecer, y recibimos aún más. Nadie puede ser más generoso que Dios.

¿Pero cómo podemos escuchar con los oídos del corazón? Primero, tenemos que encontrar un poco de silencio. Hoy día, es difícil, ya lo sé. Una forma, un método es orar con las escrituras - lectio divina. Cuando oramos con las escrituras, podemos escuchar la voz del Señor en sus propias palabras. Leemos un poco, y meditamos un poco. Leemos un poco más, y esperamos a que una palabra o una frase capte nuestra atención. Nos quedamos un momento con ella, meditando un poco más con la inspiración del Espíritu Santo. Y finalmente damos gracias por el don de su palabra que hemos recibido. Para esto, podemos usar las lecturas de hoy o cualquier parte de la Biblia. También hay muchos que usan libros escritos por los santos. Estoy usando un libro de San Francisco de Sales en mis devociones diarias.

En esta forma de oración, entramos en silencio. Ofrecemos la tierra rica del silencio, y como dice el evangelio, esa misma se usará para tratarlos, y con creces y al que tiene, se le dará. Sea cual sea nuestra elección, cultivemos el silencio y recibamos la plenitud de la gracia del Señor.

Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, Priest and Doctor of the Church

Among the Scholastic Doctors, the chief and master of all towers Thomas Aquinas, who, as Cajetan observes, because “he most venerated the ancient doctors of the Church, in a certain way seems to have inherited the intellect of all.” The doctrines of those illustrious men, like the scattered members of a body, Thomas collected together and cemented, distributed in wonderful order, and so increased with important additions that he is rightly and deservedly esteemed the special bulwark and glory of the Catholic faith. With his spirit at once humble and swift, his memory ready and tenacious, his life spotless throughout, a lover of truth for its own sake, richly endowed with human and divine science, like the sun he heated the world with the warmth of his virtues and filled it with the splendor of his teaching. Philosophy has no part which he did not touch finely at once and thoroughly; on the laws of human actions and their principles, he reasoned in such a manner that in him there is wanting neither a full array of questions, nor an apt disposal of the various parts, nor the best method of proceeding, nor soundness of principles or strength of argument, nor clearness and elegance of style, nor a facility for explaining what is abstruse.

— Aeterni Patris, Pope Leo XIII, Encyclical On the Restoration of Christian Philosophy

We got a fair amount of Aquinas during formation. Father Wilgenbusch, our director of vocations, holds an STL and his thesis paper was supervised by Br. Thomas Joseph White, OP, Rector of The Angelicum in Rome. Fr. Wilgenbusch personally taught our courses on Trinity, Sacramental Theology, and Eucharist. Some of our examinations were oral: choose a question from the hat and be prepared to discuss it at substantial length. We read Lawrence Feingold, Reginald Lynch, Garrigou-Lagrange, Gilles Emery, Aidan Nichols, and others. It was rigorous and nerve-wracking. I loved every moment of it.

Reading Aquinas and adopting, however imperfectly, what I call a ‘scholastic’ outlook has been enormously useful in clarifying thought. One of the first things I acquired as I was building out my library was a 5-volume Summa, which I found myself pulling off the shelf more often that I had originally anticipated.

We can, and should, meditate often on the great unity of science, philosophy, and theology. Since all truth proceeds from the same source, there can be no conflict - only mutual illumination and explication which leads to God.

Homily for the Third Tuesday of Ordinary Time

Today is the memorial of St. Angela Merici, foundress of what would eventually become the Ursuline order. The Ursulines have done tremendous work in education, and for women in particular. The Ursuline school in New Orleans is the oldest continuously operating Catholic school in the US, and the oldest girl’s school as well.

Israel was formed as a nation of law before it was a nation of land. The tribes gathered on Sinai entered into a covenant with the Lord, and it was through this relationship in law that made them the people of God. Observe my commandments, do these things, live this way. You will be my people and I will be your God. Much of the law speaks to community life and the relationships between people which must be ordered rightly to God.

The Gospel invites us to look at another, more intimate community: the family. Jesus seems, at first glance, to be brushing the family aside. His kin are outside asking for him, and his response is to gesture at those gathered with Him at the table. Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother. Far from diminishing the family into some sort of abstract “brotherhood of man,” our Lord is instead showing us that our ties to one another are not merely from a shared set of obligations to the law, but are fundamentally the ties of family. And if our lives are rightly ordered to God, the ties that bind us are the bonds of a family. Our Lord was pretty clear about this. He didn’t say ‘is like a brother and sister’ or suggest this as symbolic.

“Here are my mother and my brothers.”

When we live as a family of God, our lives should become inexplicable to outsiders. We will do and say things that make no sense, and live in a way that seems out-of-joint with the world. If we see a man pulled by a water-skiing boat, our mind comprehends what’s going on. If we see a man on skis zipping along without help across the water, it’s going to get our attention. We will want to look closer, to know more, and to find out what’s going on.

So much, also, for a life of faith. St. Angela started catechetical groups organized at parishes and ended up founding an order whose work continues five hundred years later. Our own ripples may not be as evident, but they will certainly last as long.

St. Angela Merici, pray for us.

Ice and snow, bless the Lord

Mercy and mission

Homily for the Second Friday of Ordinary Time

1 Samuel 24:3-21
Psalm 57:2, 3-4, 6 and 11
Mark 3:13-19

Today the Church celebrates two saints - Saint Vincent, a deacon who was martyred in Rome during the persecutions, and Saint Marianne Cope, who served a community of people suffering from leprosy on the island of Moloka’i. Providentially, the readings for today invite us to meditate on mercy and mission.

David has an opportunity to end his troubles once and for all, for Saul has been delivered directly into his hands. One quick act and it would be over. He does not, instead showing mercy to his opponent who later acknowledges this as the hallmark of a true king.

In the Gospel, our Lord calls his apostles - those who are to be sent, which is what apostle means. The same word gives us postal and post office. Discipleship is certainly, in one sense, something that is focused on the self. Only my sins will keep me out of heaven, and I need to work out my salvation and relationship with Christ as best I can. But it is also, by necessity, something that takes place in community. Our task is to take the graces we receive in here and bring them to others out there, and demonstrating mercy can be one of the ways - maybe the chief way - we can do this. It will be imperfect mercy. We will fall short, often. But even so, others will see, wonder, and ask, and so we bring them to Christ.

St. Vincent, deacon and martyr, pray for us.
St. Marianne Cope, pray for us.

Oh how happy are they who keep their hearts open to holy inspirations! For these are never wanting to any, in so far as they are necessary for living well and devoutly, according to each one’s condition of life, or for fulfilling holily the duties of his profession. For as God, by the ministry of nature, furnishes every animal with the instincts which are necessary for its preservation and the exercise of its natural powers, so if we resist not God’s grace, he bestows on every one of us the inspirations necessary to live, to work, and to preserve our spiritual life…When we are at a loss, and human help fails us in our perplexities, God then inspires us, nor will he permit us to err, as long as we are humbly obedient.

— St. Frances de Sales, Treatise on the Love of God

My spiritual director steered me towards St. Frances de Sales and I’ve come to love his writings very much. His most approachable (and probably most well-known) book is Introduction to the Devout Life, which is very much like it sounds: a practical how-to on cultivating holiness regardless of your station in life. How, someone wrote him, can someone who is not a cleric or part of a religious order hope to become holy? Can a soldier, merchant, or housewife aspire to saintliness?

Of course, wrote St. Frances. We take that sort of thing - the universal call to holiness - almost for granted these days, but it wasn’t necessarily the case for a lot of people who tended to see The Church as the place where holy people went, and The World for the rest, sort of schlepping along as best as can.

St. Frances responded to this letter with the Introduction, which lays out the case for attaining holiness wherever you happen to be, and more importantly, lays out the ways to do it. It is a very practical little book, though obviously bits and pieces are very much a product of it’s early 17th century setting. It is a gentle little book, and it served me very well for spiritual reading. I finished it quickly, but returned to it a second time. Ordination was drawing closer and I was preparing to make a general confession beforehand; St. Frances de Sales was an enormous help.

His other major work, Treatise on the Love of God is full of the same sorts of insights, but is a pretty dense work. I’ve been consuming it one chapter at a time as part of my morning holy hour and am about two-thirds of the way through it now. If you only read one thing from the spiritual father of the Salesians, make it the Introduction, but if you want to spend time studying the love of God from a spiritual master, take a run at the the Treatise, but festina lente. Make haste slowly.