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Open for Filling

In the baptismal right after the baby or the adult is baptized, then their ear is touched, their lips are touched, and the priest or the deacon says, Ephphatha, be opened. And what does that do? Why is that part of the baptismal right? This be opened? In today’s gospel, the deaf man is given this same right, the same word by Jesus, Ephphatha, be opened.

What does it do? And in the gospel his ears would be opened. His tongue would be opened. So he could talk. But I think in the baptismal right, it’s that our heart is open, our mind is open, our soul is open so that we can receive grace, we can receive love. We can receive the Holy Spirit. We can receive of God’s plenitude that the heart is open.

But what closes the heart? I think what closes the heart is me, my ego. You know, my stubbornness or my selfishness or my self-righteousness, all this stuff. But this is the way it’s supposed to be here. This is the way it should be, or this is the way I wanted. These are the things that occlude the heart. Close off the heart, block the heart.

And so I think this Ephphatha is for a lifetime of opening the heart more and more to receive everything from God. So that’s why in the baptismal right as water is poured, as oil is poured. This word is said, Ephphatha, to receive grace and goodness, just like water being poured over you, like oil being poured over you.

Saint Teresa of Avila says, let us never cease to believe that even in this life, God gives the hundred fold. It’s true. God gives the 100 fold. But we’re closing it off. We’re the ones blocking it. So I think the idea is, Ephphatha, be open so that as God gives the 100 fold, we can receive 100 fold. Ephphatha, be open.

God Save Us

A Homily for the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Gregory dies and he finds himself in the presence of the devil. Oops. And the devil says, do you want a tour? So Mary says, sure. They go up to a room and there’s screaming and torturing sounds and hollering. Gregory says, what did they do? And the devil says, well, these are Baptists who drink beer. They go to the next room for torturing sounds.

And what did they do? Oh, these are Jews who ate bacon. And they go to the next room. What did they do? And he says these are Catholics who ate meat on Friday. And then they go to the next room. What did they do? And the devil says, oh, these are Episcopalians who ate their main course with their salad fork.

I don’t mean to offend anybody with this joke, but it’s a kind of this is what’s going on in today’s gospel. The pointlessness of these rules. Unless these rules go somewhere. Mark gives us these, all these cleanliness rules about beds and cups and utensils and and Jesus says, but that’s not where cleanliness comes from, because these things have to go somewhere.

If they just stay, rules, but they stay the endpoint. If they stay what we focus on, that’s just empty piety. Saint Teresa of Avila says, God save us from empty piety because these things have to change our interior. These rules. Otherwise they’re just a joke. This comes from the Tao Te Ching, written by Lao Tzu, the founder of Daoism.

He says, what are your thoughts? For your thoughts become your words. What are your words for your words become your actions. What your actions for your actions become your habits. What your habits or your habits become your character. What your character for your character becomes your destiny. I think that’s what she’s saying. What Mark is saying in today’s gospel, it would.

Teresa of Avila is saying when she says, God save us from empty piety.

Checkbook

A homily for the Sixth Sunday of Easter

When I was newly ordained (quite a few years ago now) Father Roy told me a story when he was newly ordained, which was sixty years before that. An elderly Carmelite in the priory was dying and they were taking turns to sit up with him at night, so that if he needed anything they’d be there and he would not die alone. And it was Roy’s night. He fell asleep in the chair and the guy woke him up making noises. So Roy gets up and says, “Do you need another blanket, Father?” No. “Do you need slippers?” No. “Do you need another pillow?” No. And he keeps pointing to his pillow so Roy reaches under the pillow and there’s a checkbook under there. And he pulls out the checkbook and hands it to the dying Carmelite. And the dying Carmelite holds it tight – until he dies. It sounds like a terrible story, but I think we all have a checkbook. We all have something that we’re holding tight that we don’t want to let go. You know, some wound maybe, somebody said something, or somebody dumped us. Or maybe some accomplishment that we just want to boast in. Give all the ego – some ego thing. It’s a lot of stuff. Each of us, I think; each of us has a checkbook. In today’s gospel Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, love on another as I have loved you.” Saint Therese of Lisieux says, “how is that possible? How can I love my sisters as Jesus love them?” “But it’s a commandment and he does not command the impossible, so I will allow Jesus to love my sisters through me.” That’s exactly right. Saint Thomas Aquinas uses the term “vacare Deo” for the same idea. That when we pull something away or give something up, we release it; God fills that vacancy. Vacare Deo. Vacancy for God. But it’s hard to give the checkbook up. Even Saint Teresa of Avila – the great saint – says, “Lord, I do not think that I can give you everything that you ask of me, but I will allow you to take it; and I pray that I don’t try to stop you.” We can’t give up the checkbook but we can ask God to take the checkbook – whatever it is. And I think that we all have something; but the more we give this up, the more “vacare Deo,” the more vacancy for God, the more God fills us. And then it’s God’s love that fills us, and we love one another with that love. Therese is right. Teresa is right. Vacare Deo.

How to Make It Work

A Carmelite homily for Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter, 24 April 2024, Lectionary 281

In today’s Gospel Jesus says, “If anyone hears my words but does not observe them, I do not condemn him; my words condemn him.” What does this mean? Saint John of the Cross wrote a formation manual, a manual for those entering the Order – things to be aware of and things to do. And he calls it “The Precautions” – things to be cautious of. And this is the First Precaution of many precautions, the First Precaution. This is what Saint John of the Cross writes: “The First Precaution is to understand that you have come to the monastery so that all here may fashion and shape you. So think of everyone in the community as artisans, as indeed they are. Some will fashion you with words for you, some by words against you; others by deeds for you, others by deeds against you. In all this try to be submissive as the statue is to the sculptor, the statue is to the artist who paints it, or the statue is to the guilder who embellishes it. If you fail to observe this precaution you will not know how to overcome your sensitivity or your feelings, nor will you get along well in the community, nor will you find holy peace, nor free yourself from stumbling blocks or evil.” You notice how Saint John of the Cross does not say, if you don’t do this God’s gonna get you. No! If you don’t do this, this is not going to turn out well. It’s as simple as that. Do these precautions and it’s going to work; if you don’t do these precautions and it probably not going to work. I think that’s what Jesus is getting at. If you do what Jesus tells us life is going to work. Forgive one another. Don’t judge one another. Be patient with one another. Listen to one another. Treat one another with dignity, like the Golden Rule. Forgive one another seventy time seven. On and on. It’s like these are Jesus’ “The Precautions” for life to work. If we don’t do them we’ll get through life but it work as well. I think this is why Jesus says, “I will not condemn you; my words condemn you.” Because it’s not going to work as well.

Nourishing Bread

A Carmelite homily for Wednesday of the Third Week of Easter, 17 April 2024, Lectionary 275

Oftentimes people come to me saying: “Oh, my prayer is dry,” or “I’m going nowhere,” or “Life is empty.” I can sometimes think that. Saint Teresa of Avila has a quotation that I love. She says, “Self-knowledge is the bread upon which the soul is fed.” That’s how we get nourished. That’s how we find life. Bread is meant to nourish, to give life. And what is that bread but self-knowledge? In these gospels this week we have the ‘Bread of Life Discourse’ coming from John Chapter 6. But the Last Supper is John Chapter 13. So I think Jesus is meaning more than just Eucharist here. I think when he says “I am the Bread of Life” he is saying “I will teach you how to live; I will teach you who you are; I will teach what is important.” This is the Bread of Life! Saint Teresa is so right: “Self-knowledge is the bread upon which the soul is fed.” When you’re feeling empty, you’ve stopped exploring yourself; you’ve stopped knowing yourself. New roads are there and you don’t enter them. New vistas, new ways. This is the call: to go deeply and explore yourself. Then you will find life. Then you will find interest. Then your life will go somewhere. Because Jesus is the Bread of Life.

All About Who?

A Carmelite homily for either Tuesday (John 13:21-38) or Wednesday (Matthew 26:14-25) of Holy Week

I like to read the advice columns in the newspaper. And just this morning a man wrote in. He has hearing aids. He doesn’t like to go to his grandkids’ graduations because he can’t hear anything. It’s always in a gym. The acoustics are bad. He doesn’t want to go to graduations. So the reply was: graduation talks are always kinda the same so you’re not missing anything even if you heard well. It’s mostly about the graduates and you being there to support them. Being there to congratulate them. Not to listen to the talks. It’s not about you; it’s about them. And I think that’s the heart of today’s gospel. Judas didn’t get that message. It’s all about him – about money, or about power, or about authority, or about jealousy. It’s all about me. It’s all about me. It’s all about me. I think that’s the heart of the betrayal. He never changed to ‘it’s all about you; it’s about God; it’s about others.’ What can I do? The arrows are used to going in but sometime in our life they have to start going out. Saint Teresa of Avila had that same conversion experience. Here’s what she writes. Oh, she was a nun. She entered the convent because she didn’t want to get married because of the deplorable state women had in the state of marriage. So she entered the convent out of convenience. And she loved to gossip there. She loved meeting with people in the parlor. She was an observant but not a very fervent sister till this moment. She writes; this is from the Book of Her Life: “It happened to me one day upon entering the oratory I saw a statue for a certain feast to be celebrated in the house. It represented the much-wounded Christ. And it was very devotional so that beholding it I was utterly distressed in seeing him that way. For it well-represented what he suffered for us. I felt so keenly aware of how poorly I thanked him for those wounds that it seemed my heart broke. Beseeching him to strengthen me that I would no longer offend him I threw myself down before him with the greatest outpouring of tears.” That’s her conversion moment. Where it was no longer about me, my power, my control, my entertainments, my satisfaction, my selfishness, my needs. And it’s about Christ. It’s about neighbor. It’s about the other. It’s about the sisters. The arrow turned around that day. She calls it her conversion moment. That’s what, I think, is the call not only of any gospel but especially this one, where Judas didn’t get that message. He didn’t get that memo. If we don’t turn it around, woe is us.

Which Gate? West? or East?

Carmelite homily for Sunday, March 24, 2024 – Palm Sunday

For Lent I gave up coffee. Now mind you, Lent is not just about give up something. It’s prayer, fasting, and works of charity. Do all three in Lent. For the fasting part I gave up coffee. And I let everybody know. Then I go to Starbucks and I’m carrying about green tea. But they say, “I thought you gave up coffee for Lent?” And I say, “It’s just tea, just green tea.” Now they see me walking around, they don’t question it. But I’m thinking, “Ooo, I could put coffee in here and everyone still thinks I’ve given it up for Lent.” Ooo, I could lie; I could get my fix; I could get my indulgence; I could get my comfort food – coffee. Well, sometimes I think it’s a question of integrity. It’s a question of what do I choose? Like the good path, the virtuous path or the selfish path, the indulgent path, the comfort-level path. Today we celebrate Palm Sunday. Pontius Pilate, who was the Prefect of all of Israel, didn’t like Jerusalem. It was a dangerous place. It was a dirty place. He didn’t like it so he lived in great comfort in a posh villa on the Mediterranean coast to the west of Jerusalem in Caesarea. And he would only come to Jerusalem when he had to. Passover is approaching. That’s a big feast, a big holiday. It’s a big flashpoint too. He knows he has to be in Jerusalem. So he’s coming to Jerusalem from the west. Jesus is coming to Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives which in the east. And they’re probably arriving at the same time. Pontius Pilate represents power and poshness and comfort and security and selfishness all coming in from the west gate. And Jesus who is representing virtue and selflessness and put others first and do unto others all coming in from the east gate. So people were expected to greet Pontius Pilate. So a bunch probably ran that way because they want security; they want poshness; they want money; they want power. But a bunch went to the east gate where they have freedom; have love; have depth of life; have meaning. And I think the same thing is happening today. Yes, it’s a trite example with Starbucks and green tea. But everyday I think we’re called. Are we going to go with virtue or are we going to go with selfishness. Everyday we’re called to a gate. Which gate are we going to go to?

Numbed Down

Carmelite homily for Thursday, March 21, 2024 – Lectionary 254 (John 8:51-59)

I find that I’m wasting a lot of time with Facebook! Facebook, you know, feeds you what you want to watch or you want to see. I like cats and I like kittens so I get all these cute kitten videos, cat videos, you know, the ten craziest thing your cat has done, or these cute kittens zooming around. I love it all. I waste a lot of time. But why? Because it is fun? Because it’s distracting? Because it’s numbing? I think more than anything, probably because it is numbing. I could be spending my time reading, studying, or praying. But I’m watching cute kittens instead because it numbs me from life. Saint Teresa of Avila has a great quote because she thinks that she is numbed from life. She writes in the Book of Her Life, “I wanted to live for I well understood that I was not living but was struggling with a shadow of death.” I think that’s oftentimes what we’re struggling with – is a shadow of death. We’re afraid of death, afraid of emptiness, afraid of not living, so we just numb ourselves with Facebook, or screens galore, or alcohol, or anything just to get through the day. We’re not interested in living. We’re interested only in surviving. In today’s gospel, I think that’s what Jesus is after the Pharisees about. He says, “If you believe in me you will never see death.” And they take it literally. But I think it means if you follow Jesus and do what he commands you won’t be numbed; you won’t be just surviving; you will be truly living. And if you’re truly living you’re not afraid of death because death is far from what you’re doing. You’re promoting life in others and in yourself. So I think that’s the call of today’s gospel, is to not numb ourselves with mind-numbing Facebook and social media; or mind-numbing alcohol or pharmaceuticals, or mind-numbing, you know, any screen or anything. But to live and stop struggling with a shadow of death.

Saint Joseph’s Day

Carmelite homily for Tuesday, March 19, 2024 – Solemnity of Saint Joseph, Husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary

The Carmelites have had a long relationship with Saint Joseph. Some of it fanciful, some of it historical; I will only touch some of the historical here. The Carmelites were founded in the Holy Land, where there was a devotion to Saint Joseph, but not in Europe. So when the Carmelite came to Europe, they brought this feast day with them. We introduced this feast day to the calendar. Now any first foundation like in a new land or a new way is named after Saint Joseph. That’s why Saint Teresa of Avila named the first house of her reform ‘Saint Joseph.’ He is the protector of the Carmelite Order. And we get, I think, this also from Saint Teresa. Here is what she writes in The Book of Her Life: “I took for my advocate the glorious Saint Joseph and earnestly recommended myself to him. It is an amazing thing the great favors God has granted me through the mediations of this blessed saint – the dangers I was freed from both of body and soul. Why? Because Jesus was subject to Saint Joseph while on earth for Joseph bore the title of Jesus’ father. So being the Lord’s tutor, Joseph could give the child any command and he would do it. So in heaven we ask Joseph to give any command to Jesus and he does whatever Joseph commands.” That’s why Joseph is the protector not only of the Carmelite Order but I think of you, me, everyone, everything. Because Jesus has no choice. Joseph is his father; he has to do what Joseph asks.

To Know By Unknowing

Carmelite homily for Sunday, March 17, 2024 – Lectionary 35 (John 12:20-33) – Fifth Sunday of Lent

When I lived in Chicago I went to a concert at the Newberry Library. All very early Medieval music. And the director of the consort would get up before each song and introduce it and talk about it. Like in ecstasy, “Oh listen for this and listen for that; it’s great and this is wonderful music.” And then they’d play the song. And it was like gobbledygook. I couldn’t understand a thing. It just sounded just like noise. And then she’d introduce the next song. It was more gobbledygook, more noise; and it sounded just like the previous song – to me. Then she’d introduce the next song in ecstasy, “oh, this is going to be beautiful; listen for this and listen for that.” It all sounded the same to me – gobbledygook. I think that’s what’s going on in today’s gospel. These Greeks, and the word is “Hellenoi.” These are Greek Greeks, born in Greece. They are not Jews who speak Greek; or Jews who have gone to Greece; they are Greek Greeks. They know nothing probably of Judaism. But they’ve heard of Jesus and want to see him. So they go to Phillip. Phillip who has a Greek name. Most of the Apostles have Hebrew names. Who then goes to Andrew, who also has a Greek name. All the other Apostles have Hebrew names. They want to see Jesus so they take these Greeks to Jesus. And he says, “unless a grain of wheat dies it will not produce a great harvest; or when the Son of Man is lifted up he will draw all people to himself; or unless you lose your life you will not save it.” This had to be like gobbledygook to these Greeks. They couldn’t understand a thing of what he was saying. But I think the key here is to just take it in. These had to be important passages or they wouldn’t have been included in the gospel. Saint John of the Cross – a very popular image of him – is with his finger in front of his lips as if he were saying, “don’t talk, don’t think, just take in and experience this life; take in Jesus.” He writes, “To reach union with the wisdom of God, one must advance by unknowing rather than knowing.” I think that’s the key here. When we listen to this gospel, we who have been raised Christians have trouble understanding. What is this grain of wheat thing? What is this Son of Man draws everyone when lifted up? What is this lose your life to save it? It really doesn’t make sense. I think it’s a knowing beyond knowing. That’s the call of living with Jesus and living in his love. Saint John of the Cross is right, “To reach union with the wisdom of God, one must advance by unknowing rather than knowing.” Isn’t that love?