Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
In about two days, I must leave home again to return to my ministry in Dayton. As I have said after my earlier visits, every time I leave home, I leave part of me behind and I bring part of my home with me to Dayton. I am finding it harder yet again. It is probably because dad is weaker than before. Every time dad and I ventured out of the house, I have had to hold his hand all the way. Mom is not getting any younger. My parents understand the reason I must leave, but they also wish I lived closer. For me, however, more than even before, leaving home will be an act of faith. It is going to every ounce of faith in me to believe that my parents will be in God’s hands in my absence. Jesus’ words in today’s gospel are very poignant and it seems that they are directed toward me. Jesus said, “He said, "Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?" (Mk 4:40).
The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi)
There is nothing like being home for the feast of Corpus Christi. By this I do not mean the festivities at our local parish. Rather, I mean that I am with my parents. It is only so many days in a year that my parents and I get to be present to each other in flesh and blood. We hug and kiss each other. We hold hands, we talk, we laugh and cry together. During the rest of the year we speak on the phone. But being present in a real way twice a year is radically different. Just yesterday, my parents thanked me for coming home every six months. It gives them something to look forward to. It is the same with me. Real presence matters.
The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity
I spent twelve years in the seminary before I was ordained. Through the first eight years, my only goal was to get to the theology classes because I wanted to get into the depths of the knowledge about God. I plunged into theology with the excitement of a two-year-old about to jump into a puddle. But a puddle is only so deep, right? That is how I felt with theology as well. The best of my efforts to understand God led me only thus far. The best of my theology professors often ended the class with the line, “It is a mystery.” If I heard that statement one more time I could scream. Twenty-one later, today, when people ask me questions about God, I tell them what I was told when I was young, "It is a mystery.”
Pentecost Sunday
This Saturday, May 23rd, a day before Pentecost, the Salvadoran Archbishop Oscar Romero was beatified. Romero was the Archbishop of San Salvador at a time when there was widespread economic oppression and gross human right violations. Romero threw his weight behind those who were suffering. He was one of the foremost figures in the revolution. He wrote in his book, The Violence of Love: “For the church, the many abuses of human life, liberty, and dignity are a heartfelt suffering. As holy defender of God’s rights and of his images, the church must cry out.” And he did exactly that. As a result, Archbishop Romero was assassinated at the altar as he raised the chalice at consecration. Once, Romero was a peaceful and non-violent revolutionary. Today he is a saint!
Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord
There is some new data that should worrisome for many of us. The Pew Research Center finds that the percentage of adults who describe themselves as Christians has dropped from 78.4% in 2007 to 70.6% in 2014. Over the same period, the percentage of Americans who are religiously unaffiliated – describing themselves as atheist, agnostic or “nothing in particular” – has jumped more than six points, from 16.1% to 22.8%. The drop in the Christian share of the population is seen mainly among mainline Protestants and Catholics. The evangelical Protestant share of the U.S. population also has dipped, but at a slower rate, falling by about one percentage point since 2007.
Sixth Sunday of Easter
(Let me preface the homily by saying that the stories I will share are not meant to put the people in them in a negative light. I respect each person and where they find themselves at a certain point in their life. I am sharing these stories with immense respect for them).
I am going to share two stories with you. The first story is about a patient at hospice I anointed last Sunday. He must have been about eighty years old. When I introduced myself to him, he seemed relieved. One of the very first things he said to me was, “Father, I am glad you are here. I have not been to church in thirty, fourty, fifty years. I have no reason for that. Just did not do it. I wish I had.” I tried to console him and let him know that God’s love is greater than our weaknesses. He believed that. But then, it is what he said afterwards that got my attention. He said, “When I get out of here, I am going to come and see you in church. I promise I will be in church every Sunday, if I can.” Of course, in my mind I was wondering if he knew he was at hospice. I really prayed that he might recover and at least be able to go to church at least once. The larger question in my mind was, did it have to come to this to realize what he should have always done? To face death with regrets – It is really not a good place to be at!
Fifth Sunday of Easter
There is a story my second grade teacher told us in my catechism class. Strangely, I still remembered the story as I read today’s scripture. One day, Michelangelo walking through a garden in Florence, saw a block of marble in a corner protruding from the earth. It was half covered by grass and mud. He stopped suddenly as if he had seen someone. Then he said to his friends who were with him, exclaimed: "An angel is imprisoned in that marble; I must set him free." And, armed with a chisel, he began to work on that block until the figure of a beautiful angel emerged. The teacher continued, “Each of us is an angel in the making. And God is the artist. The chisel is the Word of God. God uses his word to bring out the best in us.” Later when I got older, I verified the truth of Michelangelo’s story. It turns out, that my teacher was correct. The angel is now in the Basilica of St Dominic in Bologna, Italy.
Fourth Sunday of Easter
For Charles Gladden, home is a makeshift bed on a sidewalk next to D.C.'s McPherson Square Metro Station. He sleeps with his shoes by his side, and a few blankets to keep him warm. Gladden wakes up before sunrise, when he and the other homeless men and women here are kicked out, before the bustle of morning commute. He collects his worldly possessions -- which fit into a single bag – and begins his own trek to work. And his job is at the U.S. Capitol. For 8 years he has worked in Senate cafeterias, washing dishes and doing janitorial work. Gladden is 63, and makes about $11 an hour. He takes home about $360 a week. But he said he gives a lot of it to his children and grandchildren, who have their own financial troubles. "I take care of them," he says, "I don't want to be a burden on my kids." He also said, “I'm an embarrassment. I don't want to be an embarrassment to this country, the country I was born and raised in."
Third Sunday of Easter
Last week, a most gruesome video of an apparent chlorine gas attack in north-west Syria emerged. The footage shows the attempts of doctors to revive three children, all aged under four. All the three children died. Last week, more than four hundred immigrants drowned in the sea as they tried to escape the violence parts of Africa and the Middle East. Last week, New England Patriot’s rising star Aaron Hernandez was convicted of the murder of his time friend, Odin Lloyd. His contract with the Patriots was worth $ 40 million. Last week, an acquaintance of a very dear friend of mine was convicted of child sexual abuse. He is awaiting his sentence. These are serious crimes. If we examine own our thoughts, words and actions last week, we probably realize that even though we may not have committed serious crimes, there are times when we fell short. Perhaps a blatant lie, an unhealthy or impure thought, some form of prejudice, an unfair judgement, an unkind word, an omission, unjustified anger or a habitual act may have been part of our life. If, you are somebody with rationality and freedom and you were free of any of these things last week, please come forward; we would like to light a candle to you.
Second Sunday of Easter/Sunday of Divine Mercy
I am wandering off my trodden path for my homily today. This homily is more of an exposé than a scriptural reflection with my typical three practical implications. I am doing this because today is Divine Mercy Sunday. The celebration of the second Sunday of Easter as Divine Mercy Sunday is a very recent development. It was on this Sunday in 2000 that Pope John Paul II canonized Sr. Faustina Kowalska. It is to her that we owe the origin of this celebration. On that day, JP II announced that “from now on throughout the Church this Sunday will be called Divine Mercy Sunday.” Sr. Faustina was born in Poland and she became a nun in the Congregation of the Sister of Mercy. Her life was characterized by deep spiritual interiority. On Feb 22, 1931, Sr. Faustina experienced a life-changing vision of Christ standing in a white robe with two rays of light emerging from his heart. It is the signature image of the Divine mercy devotion. Faustina died at the very young age of 33. In his life-time, John Paul actively promoted the message of Sr. Faustina and this was probably the rationale behind his 1980 encyclical, “Rich in Mercy.”
The Resurrection of the Lord
I have asked myself a question often. After his resurrection, why did Jesus only appear to his apostles and a few close disciples? There is a villainous side to me which makes me imagine that if I were Jesus, I would have shown up at Pilate’s bed side when he was fast asleep and tickled him. I would have loved to see his face when I said, “Dude, want to wash your hands?” Or, as the chief priest, Pharisees, scribes, elders and those who had falsely accused gathered for worship, I would slowly slip among the worshippers and land in the front row. Can you imagine their faces? And I would have said, “Now do you believe?” Then I would just vanish from among them.
Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion
We are entering Holy Week. On the one hand, Holy Week commemorates the story of Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection. However, if we look deeper, it is also our story. Holy week and the story of Jesus as we heard it in the reading of the passion, dramatizes the stark realities of the human condition. Within the Jesus story we find intense suffering, intrigue, malice, prejudice, hatred, betrayal, bribery, corruption, and bloody murder. Intertwined in this sad story is the life of a man who took the consequences of human sin upon himself and transformed it into love, forgiveness, peace and eternal life. He did so by becoming the “suffering servant” of God – a concept introduced to us both in the first and second readings. By becoming the “suffering servant,” Jesus changed the very meaning of human life. Human quest for permanent happiness and eternal life can only be fulfilled in Jesus.
Fifth Sunday of Lent - Year A Scrutinies
At every funeral mass, before I begin the official prayers, I always address the family gathered around the casket. I remind them the death of a loved one is one of those moments when the best thing we can do is to come before God. Death is one of those moments where our best option is to place life in God’s hands. Up until death, we could do everything in our power for those we love. But once someone dies, we are helpless. Our only help from this moment on is, God.
Fourth Sunday of Lent - Year A Scrutinies
The scripture readings on the third, fourth and fifth Sunday of Lent (especially if we are following the Year A readings) are intentionally chosen to lead those preparing for baptism (at Easter) to come the fullness of faith. The gospel readings on these three Sundays are from John. John’s entire gospel revolves around the theme “coming to believe in Jesus.” Thus, last Sunday we heard about the Samaritan woman who by the end of the story came to believe in Jesus as the Messiah. Next Sunday we will hear about Martha and Mary who even before the raising of Lazarus will confess Jesus as the Resurrection and Life. Similarly toward the end of today’s gospel reading when Jesus says to the blind man that he is indeed the Son of Man, the blind man confesses, “I do believe Lord.” And then he worshipped Jesus. Like in the other stories, there is a huge difference in the faith of the blind man from the beginning of the story and the end of the story. At the beginning of the story he was blind but now he sees. At the beginning of the story he did not know Jesus but by the end he worships him. At the beginning of story he was just another sinner considered blind for either his or his ancestor’s sin. By the end of the story he is liberated and saved by his faith. This is true of the Samaritan woman, and Mary and Martha. In fact, this is true of the entire gospel of John.
Third Sunday of Lent - (Year A Readings)
We have just heard the incredible story of the Samaritan woman. I am hoping to reflect on the story from three perspectives: the personal, the social and the ecclesial (church). This story is more than the Samaritan woman’s personal salvation story. Woven within it are powerful social and ecclesial themes that are very relevant to us.
Second Sunday of Lent
Do you know where most young Americans get their national and international news? Late night talk shows on Comedy Central. The likes of Steven Colbert, Jon Stewart, are not just great comedians; they are also brilliant news anchors who combine incredible humor to their news analysis. However, the downside of this genre is that serious global events, like wars, begin to be perceived rather lightly, because they are dealt within the genre of comedy. Sitcoms do the same things. Serious issues like marriage and family are treated so casually that we do not know whether sitcoms reflect life or life tries to imitate sitcoms. On the latest episode of Modern Family, I saw God being ridiculed for giving an old man a son and then demanding that he be stabbed to death (referring to the story of Abraham in today’s first reading). If talk shows and sticoms run the risk of striping global events their seriousness, do you think we too can strip faith and religion of its power? I think this often happens with Lent.
First Sunday of Lent
To the modern mind, stories like the story of Noah raise many questions as it answers them. How could destroy all of creation? Is not a compassionate God? As we ask these questions, we must remember the book of Genesis was not written as an eye-witness account. Noah’s story is being narrated for a far bigger purpose. Whereas the story is a lesson on the destructive power of sin, it is even more importantly the story of God’s first covenant with humanity. God makes a promise with all of humanity that not destruction but rather salvation that will be the final word.
I would like to draw three connections that help us see the meaning of the story of Noah and the great flood.
Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Just when we think we have been surprised enough by Pope Francis, he gave us yet another one. Last Sunday, before he said mass at a local parish on the outskirts of Rome, he made a surprise visit to a shanty town. Most of the people were immigrant refuges from Peru and Ecuador, Eritrea, Ukraine, Russia, and other parts of the world. His love for these ordinary folks and their affection for him – it is amazing to watch. I watched the video and felt my eyes filling up. This man is changing the meaning of the papacy, of the church, of what it means to be a Christian in today’s world. Perhaps, the Pope is teaching us to be human again.
Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Just when we thought that the world cannot get any worse, we were shocked by the awfully gruesome killing of the Jordanian pilot by ISIS militants. They put him in a cage and burnt him alive. We have seen brutality, but acts like these defy our imagination. Or, take for instance, the indiscriminate killing of about two thousand men, women and children by Boko Haram militants in Nigeria. They simply invaded a village and killed them all. Besides these world tragedies, a plane went down in Taiwan killing over thirty people, last year 2.6 million children died of hunger related causes, and last week someone you know was diagnosed with cancer. There is no dearth of bad news. There is much suffering in the world.
Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
At every visit home, one of the greatest edification I receive is from my parent’s spirituality. First of all, they are two very genuine people. So I believe that their spiritual life is also genuine. Their hour-long morning and evening prayer, their selfless intercession for every need of the world, their participation in daily mass, their devotional practices and corporal works of mercy are truly inspirational. Not once have I felt that my priestly holiness and spirituality is superior to theirs. In fact, I have felt that the opposite is true. I know that my parent’s holiness far exceeds mine. And I know this to be true about them not only as retired people but even when I was a child. For that matter, there are many people in this congregation of whom I would say the same thing.