Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s first reading captures the most inspiring moment of Solomon’s life. For reasons I will explain later, Solomon’s success is not where I want to begin this homily. I would like to begin with the tragic later-half of his life. Solomon was only the third king of Israel. He inherited the throne because David had promised Bathsheba (the wife he had illegitimately gotten) that her son Solomon would inherit the throne rather than Adonijah, the legitimate heir. God honored David’s promise and today’s reading tells the story of Solomon’s beginning to fame. But it is what happened afterwards that is appalling. Solomon made two major errors. First, in direct disobedience to God’s covenant with Moses, he employed Canaanites as forced laborers, and in this way did what the Egyptians had done to the Israelites. Second, he took about 700 women as wives and 300 concubines from most of the neighboring cultures. To make it worse, Solomon erected altars to the alien gods of these wives. He was personally involved in the construction of some of these shrines. This was in direct violation of the first commandment. God was angry with Solomon. Twice before, God had appeared to him and warned him of the dangers of disobedience (1 Kings 11:9-10). And that is exactly what happened. Solomon’s son Rehoboam succeeded Solomon but under his rule ten of the twelve tribes formed the northern kingdom. Tragically, Israel was split in two because of Solomon’s deeds.
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s gospel reading is a continuation of last Sunday’s gospel about the sower and the seed. Today we have the parable of the weeds among the wheat, the parable of the mustard seed, and the parable of the yeast in the dough. These parables are so powerful that it is often possible to miss the detail that the parables are about the the ‘mysteries of the Kingdom of God.’ Jesus says, “I will open my mouth in parables, I will announce what has lain hidden from the foundation of the world.” In a very real sense, then, to focus merely on the parables is to miss the point. We should really be focusing on the mysteries of the Kingdom of God that these parables reveal.
Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
In my hands I have my Bible. This Bible was not a gift. I purchased this Bible about three years into my seminary life. I saved money for six months to purchase it. After my initial conversion from being a nominal Catholic to a more serious Catholic, God’s word became my passion. Part of my initial conversion was the realization that my primary call was not merely to be a priest but first and foremost to be a disciple. And the question I struggled with was, “Who is a disciple?” If Jesus were to call me like he did the disciples, what would he want from me? To understand this, I delved into the gospels and later into the whole Bible like a child into a cookie jar. And if you glance through my Bible, you will see that it is highlighted in rainbow colors. This Bible is twenty-eight years old. It was in tatters and falling apart. I wanted to replace this old one with a new one but I soon realized that this Bible was not just another book. This Bible represented my conversion, my faith journey, my life and my relationship with God. This Bible was not something, it was somebody. In many ways, this Bible was a Sacrament, the real presence of God through God’s word. Knowing how dear this Bible was to me, a very dear friend of mine got is restored. Today, I take the Bible on all my retreats, classes and seminars. This Bible is not my book. This Bible is my best friend.
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
I was on my way to St. Helen for mass on Thursday. I had just crossed Linden Ave on Woodman Drive. This segment, all the way up to the Wright Patterson air force base, is a target speed enforcement zone. When I go for mass in the morning is also peak traffic hour. On Thursday, as soon as I crossed the lights, I noticed a red truck behind me. He was driving too close to me for my comfort. Obviously, he could not change lanes because of the heavy traffic on the left lane. I put my right turn signal early enough for the driver to know that I will be right turning into St. Helens. Like all people do, I slowed down close to the drive ti turn. And as I did in the rear view mirror I saw the driver flip me off. Did he do that simply because I had slowed him down? Did he do that because I drove the speed limit? Did he do it because he was impatient? I have no idea. I only know this – that this is a learnt behavior.
Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles
I want to share two stories with you. When I was at home last month was also the time when Pope Francis was also returning from his trip to the Middle East. On the flight he gave an interview to reporters and one of the topics that came up was clerical celibacy. The media in India reported the Pope’s response widely. When I came down for breakfast that morning, my father said to me, “Pope Francis says that priests can get married.” I was very measured in my response lest my father think that I have a secret girlfriend in distant America. I learnt later that the Pope had said, “It [celibacy] is a rule of life that I appreciate very much, and I think it is a gift for the church, but since it is not a dogma, the door is always open." The Pope was merely reiterating the well-known Catholic position that clerical celibacy is not divine law. It was promulgated after the 10th Century and Church could change that law if that is where she discerned the Holy Spirit was guiding her. If she wants to do that she has the depth of history, theology and tradition to make a sound decision.
Here is my second story.
Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi)
A grandmother was talking to me about her grandchildren whom she loves very dearly and lavishes them with gifts. She would do anything for them. She has only one regret. Some of her young grandchildren who now have jobs, own homes and live with their girl-friends say to her, “Why do ask us to go to church and pray grandma? We have everything we need. It was not God who gave them to us. We have worked hard for it. We do not need God.” I know these young people. They were baptized. They made their first communion in this very church. They made their confirmation too.
If they could talk to you, what would you say to them?
The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity
My last day at home in India before I leave for Dayton is always a very emotional day for all of us. But the last few minutes before I leave the house is even more intense. My parents and I spend these last few minutes together in prayer. The scene is the same each time. We huddle together, with my dad seated on the sofa and my mother standing next to him. My mother is only as tall as my father sitting down. I stand over them, lay my hands on them and pray over them. And then, they place their hands on me and bless me with the sign of the cross. By this time, tears are flowing down our cheeks. We try to smile through the tears suppressing any possibility of simply breaking down. On this last visit, particularly, as we huddled together in prayer, I remember becoming aware of how much love there was as we stood there together. I simply cannot put into words the power of that love. That love gives me the strength to finally walk out of the house and to my parents to anticipate the next visit.
Pentecost Sunday
Every Catholic knows that the Feast of the Pentecost is crucial in the Church’s calendar. This is the day the Church born, this was the day the Church was empowered and this was the day the church began its Christ-given mission to go and make disciples of all nations. In spite of the centrality of the Pentecost and the Holy Spirit in the life of the Church, there seems to be much ambiguity about the role of the Holy Spirit in our personal lives. There is also ambiguity about how the Holy Spirit is active in the church today. Perhaps, that is the reason we pray more easily to Mary and the saints than to the Holy Spirit.
The Ascension of the Lord Scripture Readings (Fr. Satish is on vacation visiting his parents in India. This homily was written three years back for the feast of the Ascension). Of all the feasts in the church, Ascension is my least favorite feast. After all, I am not very fond of goodbyes. It could be because my first real goodbye was also the hardest. I left home when I was barely seventeen. Leaving one’s family to join the seminary is unlike going away to college. There is a finality to that leaving. Ascension reminds me of that finality. No wonder, then, that the excitement that characteristic of the resurrection of Jesus is missing from the disciples at ascension. In fact, they are portrayed staring at the sky, in doubt and questioning. So for me, the meaning of the feast of the Ascension rests less in the fact that Jesus went out of the sight of the world and is now seated at the right hand of God in heaven. For me, the meaning of Easter comes from this one statement, “You will be my witnesses….” In the gospel reading this command reads, “Go and make disciples.” Here lies the meaning of the feast of the ascension. The ascension of Jesus opens a new horizon for those who follow the path laid out by Jesus. The ascension of Jesus offers new possibilities for his disciples. Today I want to explore these new horizons and these new possibilities. Here are the three points that I want to offer and the meaning of the ascension of Jesus. Christian Maturity. Today’s second reading begins with these words, “May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, give you a Spirit of wisdom and revelation resulting in knowledge of him.” Today’s first reading says that there are things we must know and there are things we do not need to know. For example, there is no need to know the times and seasons that God the Father has established. However, Christian must know God. Christian must know God by the Spirit of wisdom and revelation that God gives to those who seek God. What good is a Christian who is ambiguous about God? What good is a Christian who is unfamiliar with the words of Christ? What good is a Christian who lives life without knowing the indwelling God? What good is a Christian whose convictions about Christ are fickle? The feast of the Ascension is an invitation to personalize God in such a way that we know Christ in the same way we know ourselves. Christianity with Eyes Wide Open. Let me take you back the scene of the ascension. Luke writes, “While they were looking intently at the sky as he was going, suddenly two men dressed in white garments stood beside them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?” The disciples standing there gazing into the sky is symbolic of the spiritual immaturity of the disciples. Paul, on the other hand, in the letter to the Ephesians points to the maturity the disciples should reach. "May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened, that you may know what is the hope that belongs to his call, what are the riches of glory…, and what is the surpassing greatness of his power.” It can happen to us that we are like the disciples gazing into the sky while life passes us by. We could become stagnant in our prayer, immature in our spiritual journey, fearful to bear witness, and sad that God in not amidst us in the way we want God to be. Paul, on the other hand is urging us to understand the power of our call as disciples of Jesus. He is urging his constituents to live their faith with eyes wide open. Today’s feast is an invitation to us to live life with our eyes wide open. You will be my witnesses/Go and make disciples. I said earlier that the ascension of Jesus opens a new horizon and offers new possibilities to his followers. If only, as I said in my first point, we understood the power of our calling, the implication of that would be stupendous. The most serious implication is that each one of us would know exactly what the primary purpose of our life is. Not merely being a mother, father, nurse, teacher, doctor, engineer, house cleaner, care-giver – but first and foremost, a witness to Christ. Immaterial of whether I had my hands, my feet, my eyes or ears – my primary call would be to be a witness. (Here is a video I would like to seehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlZPYGBXQ44. In a world that is rife with meaninglessness, in a world that is searching for meaning and purpose, a Christian must be Christ. Could there be a better reason to live. It is the feast of the ascension that gives us that purpose. As we celebrate this Eucharist, it is time for us to stop gazing into the sky. Rather, empowered by Christ in the Eucharist, it is time to bear witness to the power of God in the world. - Fr. Satish Joseph
Sixth Sunday of Easter
During the early years of my spiritual journey, I used a very simple analogy to help me grow in my God-experience. I would often think my heart as my house. Like every other home, I would think of my heart as having a living room, a dining, a kitchen, bedrooms, a basement and even an attic. And in each of these rooms were closets where I stored things and sometimes even hide things that I did not want other people to see or know about. Talking about my heart as my house, it was easy to let Jesus into my living room and I would be happy if he just stayed there. But initially I had restrictions. It was as if I was saying, “Lord, please do not come into my bedroom. It is not always made up and clean. And for heaven’s sake, do not open the closets. You do not want to see the thing I collect. Of all things, do not turn on the channels on TV that I turn on, do not look around the room, or lift the mattress to see what is underneath.” It was as if the Lord and I could live under one roof but lead pretty independent lives. But sooner than later I realized that I couldn’t do that. Can’t mess with Jesus! Gradually I let him into my bedroom, into all the closets of my life. Felt much better because my life was much cleaner. But the Lord seemed dissatisfied even with that. “Lord what more can I do? Is there something more?” There came a day when I wrote my house to his name. My house, my home, my heart, my life was no longer mine but the Lord’s. This analogy helped me take my relationship with God to the next level.
Fifth Sunday of Easter
Twice in my life that I have made major moves - in 1983, I left home to join the seminary and then in 1999, I left India for Europe and then the United States. Like most of you, I am an adventurist. I love new places, tasting exotic foods and I welcome new experiences. Most of the time, though, my new experiences end up being bitter-sweet. Sweet because I enjoy every new experience; bitter because I want my family to experience what I experience. I clearly remember standing under the Eiffel Tower at the turn of the millennium. It was the most electrifying moment. When the Eiffel Tower broke out into the most spectacular fireworks, I called home from a pay phone. And I remember saying to mom and dad, “I wish you were here with me.” It was the same when I visited New York City. I stood night in the middle of Times Square and called home from a pay phone. And I promised them that one day, I would bring them here to see what I am seeing. I delivered on my promise. My parents have been to the United States not once but twice. And I took them from New York, to DC to Philadelphia to Florida. On the one hand, it was about seeing places they have only seen in books and magazines. On the other hand, it is about being together with them in the same place. Similarly, when mom and dad visited places in India and Europe that I have not visited, they would always say to me, “I wish you were here with us.”
Fourth Sunday of Easter & Mother's Day
Most of you know that recently I had a surgery. I received much love from parishioners and friends during this time. But there was one person who suffered my pain with me – my mother. Being far away from Dayton and unable to see me or care for me during my recovery was devastatingly painful for her. The day before the surgery, she reminded me of an incident when I first left home to enter the seminary. I was barely seventeen. Leaving home to go the seminary was the most difficult call I answered. This decision was even more difficult because I would not see my family for two long years. My mother and I suffered the most. My mother was very proud and supportive of my decision but it was as if her son was being snatched away from her. My parents came with me to Bangalore (about 850 miles my home) to drop me off. They stayed with me a few days and then the day came for them to return home. I think this was the most difficult day of our lives. That morning we attended mass at the chapel in the seminary. When everybody had left the chapel, my dad, mom and I remained in the chapel. We were all choking. I guess each of us was still pondering what all this meant. Hanging on the wall of the chapel was a picture of the Mother of Perpetual Help. The legend behind the picture is that as a little child, Jesus had a vision of his impending passion and death. In fear he ran into his mother who picked him up to console him. In the picture, this is symbolized by Jesus’ falling sandals. Perhaps my mother sensed my apprehensions. She took me in front of the picture of the Mother of Perpetual Help. We stood there is stunned silence. None of us could say a word without bursting into tears. And then, gathering the courage only a mother can, she said to me, “Thus far I have been your mother.” And then pointing to Mary she said, “From now on, SHE is your mother.” The day before my surgery, she entrusted me to Mary one more time.
Third Sunday of Easter
I am sure that you have had heard enough about Donald Sterling, the owner of LA Clippers. I am also sure that you do not want to hear more about it from the pulpit. I promise you I am not going to torture you with Sterling’s racist comments. This is what baffles me, however. I just cannot comprehend that in this time and age, people have with such prejudiced, bigoted and myopic vision of humanity. Are we not civilized enough to know that color is only skin deep? How long before we look at a person’s color, nationality, religion or gender and assign that person basic human dignity and respect? When will we learn to look at humanity the way God sees us? How do people miss the big picture?
Second Sunday of Easter, Sunday of Divine Mercy
(Fr. Satish is recuperating from surgery. This homily was written three years ago for the Second Sunday of Easter. This homily is as relevant now as it was then).
Easter is over! Many of us who gave up things for Lent are now perhaps enjoying these things again. I wonder, what did that first bite of chocolate, that first sip of coffee, that first gulp of beer, the fresh feel of game console feel like. PersonalIy, I consider the weeks after Lent to be the most dangerous time for Christians. Suddenly, the spiritual discipline that we got used to during Lent gets forgotten; prayer becomes more lax, and we get back to our old ways again. After Christ is risen and it is time to sit back and enjoy life again.
Resurrection of the Lord
There is a new book out in the market entitled, “How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher from Galilee.” Bart Ehrman is a widely read scholar and author. A previous book by him titled, God's Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question--Why We Suffer, created a sensation. As a youth, Ehrman was an evangelical Christian passionate about convincing people about God becoming man. In this latest book he is more concerned about how a man called Jesus became God. According to Ehrman, Jesus does not claim that he is God except in the gospel of John. John’s gospel is written much later than the rest of the gospels. John’s gospel, according to Ehrman, is making a theological point when it says that Jesus make a claim that he is God. But historically, he says, the claim cannot be supported. If Jesus had indeed claimed he was God, why would the other three gospels miss this crucial detail? As opposed to John Ehrman claims that since he is making a historical fact and not a theological point. Historically, according to him, the belief that Jesus is God is a creation of the followers of Jesus. He also says that Christianity would not have the status and numbers it has today if after Constantine it had not become the state religion.
Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion
Thursday evening, I was at hospice (again) to give the last sacrament Greg O’Connell. Greg was only his sixties. He had fallen at his nursing home and injured his head rather seriously. Only his daughter and her friend were at his deathbed when I visited. In times like these, I often take the time to explain to the family the meaning of the last Sacraments and invite them to participate. I explain to them how these Sacrament are as much for the comfort and consolation of the grieving family as it is for wellbeing of the dying person. When I said all this to Greg’s daughter, she said to me, “I am not a religious person. I am OK. Please do what needs to be done for him.” I took the time to explain to her that our relationships are as important to God as they are to us. I asked her if she wanted this relationship with death. And she said that she did not. I explained to her that we are all intimately connected when we celebrate these last Sacraments – God and the dying person and us. At the final farewell, Greg’s daughter came and stood right next to her father and me. And even though she was not fully convinced of my explanation, she bid her father good bye in God’s name. The point that I am trying to make is that there is difference between standing by and watching someone die and becoming intimately part of that death.
Fifth Sunday of Lent
The same night that I had the “Attack of the Kidney Stones,” at about 2:30 in the morning I had an emergency call from South View Hospital. Margaret was actively dying. Sometimes, I receive emergency calls in the middle of the night only for me to get there and realize that the family had panicked. This night, because I had had intense pain, I said to myself, “She better be dying.” When I reached the hospital, the nurses were barely managing to keep Margaret alive. I gave Margaret the last sacraments. There is something strangely blessed and beautiful about moments like these. To consciously and deliberately hand someone we dearly love into the hands of God for eternity is a hauntingly awesome thing. A little after I left, Margaret had died. She was a hundred years old. I came to know later that Margaret had four kids and she had buried three of them and her husband. There were quite a few tragedies in the span of hundred years. Her funeral was held here on Tuesday. None of the family present at the funeral was Catholic. They were clearly grieving deeply as their tears told the story. And yet, not one of them went away from the funeral in despair and hopelessness. Some of them met me outside to let me know how peace-filled they were. More than anything else, though, it is in moments like these that I become most intensely aware of the power of my faith in Jesus Christ. If you have buried someone you love, and you have grieved like Martha and Mary in today’s gospel reading, you too probably are grateful for your faith in Jesus Christ.
Fourth Sunday of Lent
(This homily was written three years back. Due to my ill-health, please understand a repeat homily)
I visited the Montgomery County Jail last week to hear a confession. When somebody makes a life-changing confession, I often remind them that the person who came into the confession is not the person who was going out. In other words, a person comes into the confessional a sinner but leaves a saint. But I could not say that to this man, because he was not going out anywhere. In spite of his confession he would still be in jail. In fact, I would be the one who would be going out. As I left the doors of the jail, I had that weird sense that even though this man was incarcerated, that at this moment he was more liberated than I was. Talk about irony, talk about light and darkness, talk about sin an holiness, talk about blindness and being able to see… it was truly weird.
Third Sunday of Lent
Last Tuesday, every parish in the archdiocese was open from 7 - 9pm for the Sacrament of Reconciliation. It was called the “Light is on for You,” program. I began with our First Holy Communion kids at 6:30. By the time the last person made it out of the confessional, it was a little after 10 pm. Let me first talk about the kids. Many of them came a little unsure and apprehensive about what to expect from the Sacrament. But by the time they were finished, most of them were thrilled at having accomplished something wonderful. Most of them left the confessional with the usual childlike dance. As far as the adults were concerned, there were many people who had not been to the Sacrament in years. It seems to me that many people had a genuine encountered the ‘mercy’ of Christ that Pope Francis has been talking about.
Second Sunday of Lent
It is almost two weeks since Lent began and I wonder how you are doing. My personal experience thus far has been very positive. Both in the external abstinence that I am practicing and in the internal disposition that I want to have, things are surprisingly well. Now that I have said that, I am sure next week will be rough; but right now, I feel steeped in the Lenten spirit. I hope it is the same with you. But if it is not, seek Christ’s help as you are at mass today. As we heard in today’s gospel, Christ is decidedly moving toward his impending death. The plot is thickening, the conspiracy is getting more intricate and Christ is preparing his disciples for the unexpected twists and turn. In the midst of all this, God’s presence also becomes more real and concrete. The story of the transfiguration of Jesus is a sign of God’s very real presence in human lives.