Carmelite homily for Friday (Easter VI), May 22, 2020 – Lectionary 295 (John 16:20-23)
In today’s Gospel Jesus tells the disciples, they will grieve and then they will rejoice. And he uses a metaphor of a woman in labor. When she’s in labor, all she knows is the labor and the pain, and once she’s given birth, all she knows is the joy and the gladness. Saint John of the Cross writes, “Human beings know not how to rejoice properly nor how to grieve properly.” I think he’s getting at what Jesus is getting at in today’s Gospel. We just see the moment – the pain of the moment or the joy of the moment. We don’t see the bigger pictures or plans of what God has in store. That’s the call of today’s Gospel: to trust God when we want to rejoice; to trust God when we want to grieve; to trust God that it will all work out to God’s plan.
Carmelite homily for Thursday (Easter VI), May 21, 2020 – Lectionary 294 (John 16:16-20)
In today’s Gospel Jesus tells the disciples, ‘in a little while you will not see me and you will mourn; and in a little while you will see me and you will rejoice.’ We know what is the mourning, what is the rejoicing – it’s the crucifixion; it’s the resurrection. But they didn’t know. But I think they’re called to trust and we’re called to trust. Saint John of the Cross writes, “See that you are not saddened by the adversities of this world for you do not see the good that they bring.” I think that’s exactly what Jesus is telling us and telling the disciples in today’s Gospel – to trust God, to trust him, to trust.
Carmelite homily for Wednesday (Easter VI), May 20, 2020 – Lectionary 293 (John 16:12-15)
In today’s Gospel Jesus says that , ‘the Spirit of Truth will take what is Jesus’ and give that to us.’ Giving us that richness, that greatness, to trust the Spirit to give us what Jesus has. This is why, I think, Saint Teresa of Avila can say, “How can we share our gifts lavishly if we do not understand that we are rich?” That’s the call of the Gospel. The Spirit will take is Jesus’ and give to us. But why? So we can give to others, to share lavishly, because we are rich.
Carmelite homily for Tuesday (Easter VI), May 19, 2020 – Lectionary 292 (John 16:5-11)
What I like about the Carmelite saints is that they see things a little bit differently, a little more deeply. For example, this is what Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity writes, “If you do not practice sweet silence, it will be impossible for you to taste the things of God.” I think it’s in silence that the brain, the mind can say is this indeed so? Is this indeed correct? Is this indeed God? Is this indeed holy? That’s what, I think, Jesus is inviting us to in today’s Gospel where he’s talking about sin, righteousness, and condemnation, and saying, ‘it’s different than you think.’ I think practice sweet silence; think these things out. I think the Gospels are always saying, ‘think differently, think deeply.’ That’s the invitation of today’s Gospel.
Carmelite homily for Monday (Easter VI), May 18, 2020 – Lectionary 291 (John 15:26-16:4)
Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity is a Carmelite we don’t hear enough of. She was a contemporary of Saint Therese of Lisieux in the Carmel of Dijon, France. And she writes, “Always love prayer; but when I say prayer I do not mean reciting a vast quantity of vocal prayers every day; rather, I mean the elevation of the soul to God through all things.” I think that’s the key to today’s Gospel where Jesus says, ‘Do not fall away in persecution.’ If we have elevated the soul; if we live in the heavenly realms; if we live in sanctity; if we live with Jesus, how can we fall away? I think that’s the call of today’s Gospel: to elevate the soul in all things – persecution, joy – every moment, every day.
Carmelite homily for Tuesday (Easter V), May 12, 2020 – Lectionary 2286 (John 14:27-31)
On the day Saint Therese of Lisieux made vows in the Carmel of Lisieux she wrote a prayer and she carried it in her pocket on that day. The prayer reads, “Jesus, I ask you for nothing but peace – and love, infinite love; love which is no longer “I” but “you.” In today’s Gospel Jesus promises peace, but peace not as the world gives. What does that mean? I think Therese has the key, the answer there. Because the world is all about “I, me, and mine.” And she’s praying, ‘not that, but you.’ That’s the key to deep, lasting, rich peace.
Carmelite homily for Monday (Easter V), May 11, 2020 – Lectionary 285 (John 14:21-26
We know that words are things of the head – they’re thinking; where love is a thing of the heart – it’s feeling. So in today’s Gospel Jesus says he’s going to send the Advocate to teach us all things or remind of everything he’s done. But what has he taught us but love? What has he instructed us but love? And so how is he going to teach these things of the heart? With words? No. Saint Therese says, “He instructs without the noise of words.” That’s how the Holy Spirit acts; that’s how Jesus acts; that’s how we grow – in love, not with words, but with love.
When I was still a seminarian, an older Carmelite, Father Bonaventure, visited us for a few days. During his visit I listened to his stories of life in the missions, in our schools, in our parishes and stories about his family and about his hobbies – and his battle with cancer. Just before leaving he handed me a large box filled with clergy shirts and some regular shirts, too. He said, “you look like my size and so consider this a ‘thank you’ for the kindness of listening to an old man tell his stories.” And then he took the ring off his finger and said, “this ring has been with me throughout my Carmelite life and I would rather it not be buried with me so I’m giving it to you.” I tried to refuse it but he insisted, and then left for home.
Later that day I examined the ring. It was ugly! Badly tarnished. Scratches galore. A big dent on the back. Dirt encrusted around the Carmelite shield design. And when I tried to put it on, it was too small and the dent dug into my skin. I decided that I should keep it since it was a gift, so I put it away and then soon forgot about it.
When I ran into it again, I was serving as an associate pastor in a Carmelite parish in New Jersey. The president of the parish council ran a jewelry store in town so I brought it into his store and asked if he could do anything to make it fit. He sized the ring and sized my finger and said that a small insert could be added. But then he added that it was a cheap ring and an identical new one would be easier to make than to resize this old one. But I said that this ring had some sentimental value and I’d prefer if he did something with it instead of making a new one.
Two weeks later he called to say the ring was ready. So I walked over to pick it up. He went to the back room and came out with a small box and handed it to me. I opened it and was completely surprised at what I saw. The ring was beautiful! The basic band was bright silver and the Carmelite shield logo was in gold. And everything caught the light and glistened. No grime. No tarnish. No dent. Clean. Bright. Beautiful. It was so super-nice now and such a complete surprise. Yes, the same scratch is there, but now barely noticeable. In fact, it is that scratch and all the dents, the tarnish — the history — that even makes this ring all the more beautiful. Beauty with history has to mean a lot more than beauty alone.
If God wanted us to be angels, God would’ve made us angels. Instead God made us humans. Being human must be important in God’s plan for me and in God’s plan for you. And I think this ring illustrates that. The jeweler could have made a brand new identical ring and it would be perfect — no scratches, no dents, no resizing. Yes, perfect. I sometimes think the angels are like that. They have no faults, no sins — they’re perfect. But the jeweler instead took the old ring and scrubbed out the grime, polished out the scratches, and hammered out the dents and made it beautiful. But it’s even more beautiful because of that grime, those scratches, and the dents. It’s even more beautiful because of has that history.
When the Father did all that for His Son — closing the whip marks, reknitting the marks from the thorns, drying up the flow from the nails — that is Resurrection! Jesus is beautiful in the Resurrection, and all the more beautiful because of the whipping, the thorns and the nails. The marks are still there, but no longer marks of pain and horror but marks of depth and meaning. Resurrection is all the more beautiful because of the Crucifixion. Easter is all the more beautiful because of Good Friday.
And it’s the same with us. Who hasn’t been scourged or beaten or even crucified in this life? We all have. Each one of us. But if this is born in love or chosen in love or suffered because of love, then God will do the same thing. God will close my whip marks, your whip marks. God will reknit my thorn scratches, your thorn scratches. God will dry up my flow of blood, your flow of blood. This is resurrection! My resurrection, and your resurrection, will be all the more beautiful because through the whips and thorns and nails, we still chose love. We chose the cross.
This is why, when we celebrate Easter we don’t only celebrate Jesus’ rising from the tomb. That’s not enough! We are also celebrating his Passion, and his Crucifixion. Now that’s enough! We celebrate Easter across three days — Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the Great Vigil of Easter. That is Easter. Easter is not Sunday; rather, Easter is Thursday-through-Sunday. And then we take that and celebrate for fifty more days.
Carmelite homily for Friday, April 3, 2020 – Lectionary 255 (John 10:31-42)
All this week in these Gospel passages we’ve had a lot of turmoil. And today the religious leaders are calling Jesus ‘a blasphemer’ – a capital offense – and the pick up rocks to kill him. He doesn’t make much of a defense; instead, he walks through their midst and goes to Bethany. Saint John of the Cross writes, “It is great wisdom to know how to be silent. Look at neither the remarks nor the deeds nor the lives of others.” Yes, the religious leaders should be doing this to Jesus. And Jesus is modelling this to the religious leaders by just walking through their midst. He’s not condemning them despite their condemnations of him. Maybe that’s the lesson here – to love our neighbor, love our enemies, condemn no one, return a blessing instead – to live and love like Jesus.
Carmelite homily for Thursday, April 2, 2020 – Lectionary 254 (John 8:51-59)
Saint John of the Cross wrote a commentary on his poem, The Dark Night, called The Ascent of Mount Carmel. There are forty chapters in two books and there are forty days of Lent. It’s a perfect Lenten practice. What is he trying to accomplish in The Ascent of Mount Carmel, but freedom! To free us from ourselves, our self-righteousness, our sinfulness, our pride. Saint John off the Cross writes, “It makes little difference whether a bird is tied by a thin thread or by a cord.” That’s what John is trying to do – cut the cords, cut the ropes, but cut even the thin threads that tie us. I think that so well ties in with all these Gospels we have in this season and it ties in well with our hearts.
