Homily - The Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - 23 February 2025

The Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Dear brothers and sisters,

Even to those who were raised in the Christian faith nearly since the day of their birth, some of Jesus’ teachings still strike them as extreme, out of touch, and maybe even unreasonable. We hear one of these teachings today: “Love your enemies” (Luke 6:27).

Because words mean something and because we cannot love our enemies without knowing who they are, I began digging into the etymology of the word enemy. Our English word comes from the Latin inimicus, which literally means “unfriend.” This would seem to mean that an enemy is someone who is not my friend, but this seems rather extreme; could everyone who is not my friend really be my enemy?

Digging a little deeper, I learned the Greek word for enemy is polemioi, which is distinct from another Greek word, ekthroi. Here I thought I was on to something and pulled out my Greek New Testament to discover which of the two words Jesus used. He used ekthroi, meaning one who is hated or who is hostile, one intent on inflicting harm. In Greek, though, the prefix of this word – ek – means “out of,” but I could not discover the meaning of throi. What are my ekthroi, my enemies, out of?

One source pointed me to the probable Proto Indo-European origins from ek, still meaning out of, and ros, but the only meaning for ros I could discover suggested the suffix made the previous part of the word in the past, as in “outed,” but still outed from what? Out of the house, the family, the city? I was getting nowhere; sometimes searching the scriptures can be frustrating (cf. John 5:39).

The Greek word for friends is philoi, so it did not seem possible that the ekthroi are the ones who are cast out of my friends because the words are not the same, yet that seems to be precisely the meaning of the word. The Greeks seemed to use this word in the same sense we use “my ex” for a former lover or spouse. In this sense, then, Jesus commands us to love those who betray us, or even those whom we betray, as well as who wish us – or those to whom we wish - harm.

Setting aside God’s revelation as the Trinity, as a tripartite communion of love, the most unexpected aspect of the teachings of Jesus Christ is his command to love not only those who love us, but to also love those who hate us, who persecute us, and who wish us dead.

Love of one's enemy constitutes the nucleus of the "Christian revolution," a revolution not based on strategies of economic, political or media power: the revolution of love, a love that does not rely ultimately on human resources but is a gift of God which is obtained by trusting solely and unreservedly in his merciful goodness. Here is the newness of the Gospel which silently changes the world! Here is the heroism of the "lowly" who believe in God's love and spread it, even at the cost of their lives.[1]

In this revolution of love, we see without question that authentic love is more than a matter of emotions. Indeed, love is something far greater than feelings that come and go.

To help us understand what love is, Jesus gives “a whole series of words that express a declension of love: bless, offer, do not reject, give, do good, lend, be merciful, do not judge, forgive. To love means all these things.”[2]

        To put it perhaps more directly, more bluntly, it is as if Jesus says to us:

You must love, yes, but also those who do not love you… You must bless, yes, but also those who curse you… You must give, yes, but without expecting anything in return… You also have to forgive those who have hurt you and will probably continue to do so.

And this applies to everything, to every area of life, to every area of our daily relationships.

So it’s not just about learning to love, but accepting that those who love are always on the losing end.

It is not possible to love in the hope of getting something out of it: That is an illusion.

Loving means accepting that you have accounts that are in the red, accounts that do not open, accounts that are open.[3]

To love as Jesus commands means to always be, as it were, on the losing end of love; it means rarely – if ever – having our love reciprocated. How can we do so? Is it not too much for us?

To love in this way may indeed seem too much to ask of us, to require of us, too much for us frail and mortal humans. However, as J.R.R. Tolkien says, “we do not know our own limits of natural strength (+grace), and if we do not aim at the highest we shall certainly fall short of utmost that we could achieve.”[4] We trust too much in ourselves and too little in the grace of God.

The command to love even my enemies is an unquestionably tall order, but we must remember that

…Christ's proposal is realistic because it takes into account that in the world there is too much violence, too much injustice, and therefore that this situation cannot be overcome except by countering it with more love, with more goodness. This "more" comes from God: it is his mercy which was made flesh in Jesus and which alone can "tip the balance" of the world from evil to good, starting with that small and decisive "world" which is the human heart.

…It does not consist in succumbing to evil, as a false interpretation of "turning the other cheek" (cf. Luke 6:29) claims, but in responding to evil with good (cf. Romans 12:17-21) and thereby breaking the chain of injustice.[5]

We can only tip the balance and break the chain by keeping the two-fold command of love of God and love of neighbor, by loving as Jesus loves, by loving to the end, by loving to the Cross. The lives of so many of the Saints show us that loving is possible, and they show us how to live out the love of Christ Jesus in our daily lives. One need only think of Saint Josephine Bakhita or the Venerable Servant of God Augustine Tolton for proof of this.

Detail, Crucifixion, Morgan Library, M. 300, fol. 3r.

It is on the Cross that we see most clearly that Jesus “does not limit himself merely to affirming his love, but makes it visible and tangible. Love, after all, can never be just an abstraction.”[6] Our love, too, must be more than an affirmation or an abstraction; our love, too, must be visible and tangible; our love must look like his.

Love can never be a question of a tit-for-tat. We cannot keep a tally of who has repaid our love, or to what degree our love has been repaid. This is not the way of love, for to love is always to be vulnerable. We see this by looking at the Cross. If our love is to look like that of Jesus, if it is to be tangible and not an abstraction, we must follow Jesus declension of love: bless, we must offer, not reject, give, do good, lend, be merciful, not judge, and forgive.

Jesus did not weigh the full depths of his love for us over and against our too-often shallow love for him. He simply loved to the end and gave himself fully for us. When we grow discouraged because our love is not returned, let us not focus on ourselves and what we think we deserve. Rather, let us implore the Lord to draw us deeper into his heart, wounded in love for us, until our love becomes like to his own. Amen.

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[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 18 February 2007.

[2] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, O.F.M., Meditation for the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, 23 February 2025.

[3] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, O.F.M., Meditation for the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, 23 February 2025.

[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 246, To Mrs. Eileen Elgar (draft), September 1963.

[5] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 18 February 2007.

[6] Pope Francis, Misericordiae vultus, 9.

Homily - 16 February 2025 - The Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

The Reception of Alex Schattin into the Catechumenate

Dear brothers and sisters,

Every detail in the Sacred Scriptures is important and worthy of our pondering. Take, for example, the beginning of the Gospel passage just proclaimed. As a good historian, Saint Luke knew geography and topography are important to the understanding of human history.

Saint Luke tells us today Lord Jesus “came down with the Twelve and stood on a stretch of level ground” (Luke 6:17). He had previously “departed to the mountain to pray” (Luke 6:12). Throughout the Scriptures, the most astounding encounters with the majesty of God occur on the mountaintop, up in the air, as it were, where the earth reaches toward the heavenly realm. These are the moments we too often demand of God because we forget that such experiences were far from commonplace.

The mountaintop, however, is not the only place God encounters humanity. Because “the earth is the Lord’s and all it holds, the world and those who dwell in it,” God encounters his people high on the mountaintop of glory, deep in the valley of agony, and on the level ground of the ordinary joys and struggles of the human heart (Psalm 24:1). On the level ground, Jesus encountered “a great crowd of his disciples, and a large number of the people” (Luke 6:17).

What is more, those he encountered on the level ground were clearly those “who had been wounded by life.”[1] Among that throng of people are the poor, the hungry, the sorrowing, and the outcast (cf. Luke 6:20-22). The sick and those possessed by demons were also there (cf. Luke6:18). To put it perhaps more simply, each person he encountered hungered for love and companionship. Are we any different than them? Perhaps in one way we are: they knew their wealth, their food, their joy, their inclusion, their health, and their freedom could only be found in him who pronounced them blessed. Do we know the same?

What was it about that crowd that caused Jesus to stop and walk among them? What led him to be present to them? He saw what we too often overlook because his gaze looks into the human heart.

Jesus sees in these people before him the first recipients of this promise of joy; he sees people who will be put in a position to know God. They will come to know Him, not because He will change their destiny for the better, but because of the simple fact that He descended to them; because He descended into the depths of humanity and found them waiting for Him, with their desire to listen to Him and be saved. And there He stopped.[2]

Jesus stops for us, as well, but does he find us waiting for him?

There is one among us today who knows what that crowd knew, one who has also been wounded by life, one who has come to the Church requesting faith because it offers him eternal life, one who desires to be united with Christ Jesus.[3] There is one among us who is eagerly waiting for him.

Alex, Christ Jesus is not simply waiting for you. Rather, he is walking toward you and even with you, even if at times he seems to be a silent companion. He will be with you in moments of ecstasy on the mountaintop and when you weep in the valley of suffering; more importantly, though, he will be with you throughout your daily life, as well. He will always stop to be with you. Do not walk away from him.

If we again pay close attention to the words Saint Luke so carefully chooses to employ, we learn another important lesson. When Jesus descended from the mountain after being with the Father and landed on the level ground,

The first thing Jesus does is not to heal them, to help them, but to go among them and stop. Jesus did not come primarily to change people's lives by solving problems, healing everyone and always. He comes down and remains in their midst, making himself one of them.

Jesus comes down, stops and then begins to heal them. In short, he does not begin with his thaumaturgical work, through which he frees them from various illnesses, but with a Word that gives them a new perspective on their own lives.[4]

We always want Jesus to come to us and immediately remove whatever ails us, but this is not his way. He instead prefers to enter into our difficulties and to accompany us in every moment of life. The Word he gives crowd, the Word he gives us, is his very self. For what more could we possibly ask? What could be better than to be in the company of God?

Alex comes to us today asking for the greatest of the beatitudes, that of the knowledge of God. Alex comes to us seeking his salvation, which he knows can only come through a participation in the Death and Resurrection of Christ Jesus, a union with him that comes through Baptism. He also comes, through the workings of divine providence, as a reminder to us of the supreme importance of knowing the Lord and of clinging to him.

Alex, the Word of God who took on our frail humanity in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary is calling you to himself. This is cause for great joy and today you have set your feet upon the road that leads to union with him.

Union with Christ is also union with all those to whom he gives himself. I cannot possess Christ just for myself; I can belong to him only in union with all those who have become, or who will become, his own. Communion draws me out of myself towards him, and thus also towards unity with all Christians. We become “one body,” completely joined in a single existence. Love of God and love of neighbor are now truly united: God incarnate draws us all to himself.[5]

We should never resist this call; we should instead yield to the pull of his love.

J.R.R. Tolkien once said, “the chief purpose of life, for any one of us, is to increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all the means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks.”[6] Alex, this increasing knowledge of God is the goal of your catechumenate, a knowledge that is to increase each day of your life until at the end your knowledge of God is complete because of your union with him. This is why Saint Bonaventure said, “If you learn everything except Christ, you learn nothing. If you learn nothing except Christ, you learn everything.” I ask you to learn Christ in such a way that you inspire us to know him more deeply until we are all united in him and can only give praise and thanks. Amen.

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[1] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, Meditation for the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, 16 February 2025.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Cf. Order of Christian Initiation of Adults, 51.

[4] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, ibid.

[5] Pope Benedict XVI, Deus caritas est, 14.

[6] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 310 to Camilla Unwin, 20 May 1969.

Homily - 27 January 2025 - The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Dear brothers and sisters,

In the Gospel passage(s) we have just heard, Mother Church presents to us two beginnings. Perhaps you missed them; it would have been easy to do so.

These verses from the quill of Saint Luke the Church come from two different parts of his account of the life of Jesus. The first four verses come the very beginning of his Gospel; the rest come from its fourth chapter, beginning with Jesus’ preaching in the synagogue following his temptations in the wilderness. Why has today’s Gospel been seemingly cobbled together so?

There is a word found in both passages connecting them together; the word is “fulfillment” (Luke 1:4; 4:21). In the first instance, Saint Luke speaks of “the events that have been fulfilled among us,” namely the Paschal Mystery, the Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ. Whereas other accounts of these events were somewhat piecemeal, jotted down quickly without organization, Saint Luke tells us he decided “to write it down in an orderly sequence,” that is, to record the life and ministry of the Son of God in a chronological fashion (Luke 1:3).

In doing so, the Evangelist is not simply setting out to write an historical account as we would understand it. No,

the evangelist does not simply speak of events that have taken place, but emphasizes and specifies that they have been fulfilled. He is saying that it is not simply something that has happened, perhaps something new or beautiful, but that everything that has happened is a fulfillment. In other words, something that has reached its fullness, its purpose, its goal.[1]

Luke knew the ancient prophecies of God; he, too, had been awaiting the promised Messiah and knew the Messiah had come in the person of the God-Man. In the beginning, we find the fulfillment.

We next find Jesus in the synagogue in Nazareth. Why does he go there when he is God himself? He does so, in part, to give us an example. “As a strict observer, the Lord does not disregard the pattern of the weekly liturgy and joins the assembly of his fellow citizens in prayer and in listening to the Scriptures.”[2] If the Lord Jesus does not exempt himself from communal worship each week, who are we to attempt to exempt ourselves from the holy Mass, even if only from time to time?

In the context of the weekly liturgy, Jesus “reads a Word and proclaims that this Word has been fulfilled.”[3] He reads one of the Messianic promises given to the people because they have been found unable to fulfill the demands of the law which they took upon themselves under the priest Ezra (cf. Nehemiah 8:6).

What does Jesus mean when he says the beautiful Messianic promise of Isaiah is at last fulfilled? He means

that our starting point, the beginning of life, is something that has been fulfilled, that a promise is kept, a covenant is fulfilled, a faithfulness is honored. At the beginning of our faith, at the beginning of our life, at the beginning of our relationship with the Lord, there is a gift that has been long prepared and finally irrevocably given. Fulfilled.[4]

Even in the beginning, we find the fulfillment.

Consider what Jesus does in that synagogue. Luke emphasizes that “Jesus stands up, receives the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, opens it, finds the passage with the verses that speak of the coming of the kingdom of God, reads from the scroll, rolls it up again, hands it to the servant and finally sits down again.”[5] Each of these actions, these gestures, these movements, carries great meaning because Jesus never does anything needlessly.

Jesus receives this history, in obedience to the Father; then He opens it to enter into it, to be part of it. He enters into a history that walks toward Him, the history of waiting for the Messiah, of waiting for a salvation that is free, that is for all. Jesus then reads it, interprets the law, that is, he makes it his own, reveals its meaning. And finally he rewinds the scroll, because the time of waiting for that Word is over, and now everything written in the scroll is fulfilled: you can see it and touch it, in his own person.

He is the redemption, He is the sight, He is the good news.[6]

“Jesus himself is ‘the today’ of salvation in history, because he brings to completion the work of redemption.”[7]

My brothers and sisters, Jesus has not simply entered into history generally, but into the history of a people, a people made up of persons, of persons he has united to himself through his Baptism in the Jordan. He has entered into my history; he has entered into your history. What is more, we have entered into his history through our Baptism into his Death and Resurrection. This gives new meaning to each “today,” and particularly so to each Sunday, the day of his triumph over the grave.

In this light, this Gospel passage calls us to reconsider the “today” of Sunday, how we live Sunday as a day set aside for God and for family.

Above all, it is the day to devote to the Lord, by participating in the Eucharist, in which we are nourished by the Body and Blood of Christ and by his life-giving Word. Second, in our diversified and distracted time, this Gospel passage invites us to ask ourselves whether we are able to listen. Before we can speak of God and with God we must listen to him, and the liturgy of the Church is the “school” of this listening to the Lord who speaks to us. Finally, he tells us that every moment can be the propitious “day” for our conversion. Every day (kathçmeran) can become the today of our salvation, because salvation is a story that is ongoing for the Church and for every disciple of Christ. This is the Christian meaning of “carpe diem”: seize the day in which God is calling you to give you salvation![8]

Let us, then, not be afraid to allow Jesus into the “today” of our lives. Let us not be ashamed to allow him into our history, however messy it might be. He is not afraid to enter into it; rather, he plunges himself into our history even as he plunges us into his own life in the waters of Baptism. Let us strive to live today in such a way that the fulfillment of eternal life promised us in our beginning at Baptism, may be given to us. Amen.

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[1] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, Meditation for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, 26 January 2025.

[2] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 27 January 2013.

[3] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, ibid.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Pope Benedict XVI, ibid.

[8] Ibid.