07 September 2024

Homily - The Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time and the Christian Initiation of Luke Johnson - 8 September 2024

The Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

The Christian Initiation of Luke Johnson

Dear brothers and sisters,

If we consider them together, the readings from the Sacred Scriptures we have just heard each “speak of God as the center of all reality and the center of our personal life.”[1] In a certain sense, the deaf man whom Jesus healed symbolizes what happens when we do not recognize God as the center, the hub around which the wheel of our life turns: we become deaf to both God and neighbor.

If we consider what has happened over these past few decades in our culture and society, we begin to realize something a great importance:

There is not only a physical deafness which largely cuts people off from social life; there is also a “hardness of hearing” where God is concerned… Put simply, we are no longer able to hear God – there are too many different frequencies filling our ears… Along with this hardness of hearing or outright deafness where God is concerned, we naturally lose the ability to speak with him and to him. And so we end up losing a decisive capacity for perception. We risk losing our inner senses… The horizon of our life is disturbingly foreshortened.[2]

But now and again something happens to lengthen our vision and shake us back into reality.

This is precisely what happened with the great Doctor of the Church, Saint Augustine of Hippo, who famously said to God,

You called me; you cried aloud to me; you broke my barrier of deafness. You shone upon me; your radiance enveloped me; you put my blindness to flight. You shed your fragrance about me; I drew breath and now I gasp for your sweet odour. I tasted you, and now I hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am inflamed with love of your peace.[3]

The Lord God shouted through Augustine’s deafness, his inability to perceive the one who is merciful love itself; his healing touch was proved irresistible. The same can happen to us; God can reach out, touch us, and heal our deafness and inner senses when we begin to inquire into the meaning of our existence.

The daughter of J.R.R. Tolkien’s publisher wrote to the Professor with the question, “What is the purpose of life?” Before answering her question, Tolkien rightly noted that “if you do not believe in a personal God the question: ‘What is the purpose of life?’ is unaskable and unattainable. To whom or what would you address the question?”[4] In the end, Tolkien answered the question with typical insight: “So it may be said that 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.”[5]

We learn best, of course, through our senses and so we must continually ask the Lord Jesus to touch them and heal them, to make them ever more open to perceiving him. Accordingly, our knowledge of God must be both of the mind and of the heart; it is not enough to know about God; it must, rather, be a personal knowledge, a personal encounter, or else we cannot give him fitting thanks.

Detail, Jesus heals the deaf and mute man, Codex Palatinus Vindobonensis 485, f. 86

We have among us today one whose deafness the Lord Jesus shouted through and has recognized God to be the center of his personal life. Over these past many months, Luke, you have heard the Savior and Redeemer continually call to you in various ways, inviting you into a relationship with him. You have responded with curiosity and integrity and the horizon of your life has widened to perceive God more clearly. For this, we give thanks to God and ask him to reawaken this perception of his grace in each of our lives.

Now you have come to the Church requesting the grace of Baptism. We know that

Baptism opens up a path before us. It makes us part of the community of those who are able to hear and speak; it brings us into fellowship with Jesus himself, who alone has seen God and is thus able to speak of him (cf. John 1:18): through faith, Jesus wants to share with us his seeing God, his hearing the Father and his converse with him. The path upon which we set out at Baptism is meant to be a process of increasing development, by which we grow in the life of communion with God, and acquire a different way of looking at man and creation.[6]

In short, the path of Baptism obliges us to do what Tolkien said, namely to increase our knowledge of God in every way we can and so fall more deeply in love with him. It obliges us to continually open our hearts to him who allowed his heart to be opened to us.

In various ways, Luke, the Lord Jesus has touched you – as he soon will in the waters of Baptism - and said to you, “Ephphatha,” “Be opened!” He says this not only of your ears, but also of your eyes, mouth, hands, and heart. You must allow your ears to be opened to hear the voice of God; your eyes to see his handiwork; your mouth to proclaim what he has done for you; your hands to receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit through the Sacrament of Confirmation; and your heart to receive his love in the gift of his very self in the Eucharist.

Through the witness of the example of your faith, we who have already been incorporated into Christ must strengthen our resolve to also be entirely open to God and so be inflamed with the love of his peace. May he bring us, with you, to eternal life, the great promise of Baptism into his Death and Resurrection. Amen.



[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 10 September 2006.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, X.27. R.S. Pine-Coffin, trans. (London: Penguin Books, 1961), 232.

[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter 310 To Camilla Unwin, 29 May 1868. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien: Revised and Expanded Edition. Humphrey Carpenter, ed. (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2023), 561.

[5] Ibid., 562.

[6] Pope Benedict XVI, Ibid.

04 September 2024

Address at the Blessing of Athletes at Quincy University

Dear brothers and sisters,

Over the years I have been called many things, but never have I been called an athlete (and rightly so, for I much prefer reading books and playing (old) video games and board games to competing athletically. With this in mind, it may seem odd I have been given a few moments to speak to you this evening, but I hope I can say something of interest to you.

PHOTO: Denny Sinnock

When I was a young priest and assigned to a parish with a high school, I found myself – at the insistence of the students – as first the assistant coach to the boys’ soccer team, then to the track team, and then to the boys’ wrestling team. More than a coach, it always seemed to me the students saw me more as a mascot and even perhaps as something of a life coach. My time spent on the busses and on the benches remain one of the primary blessings of my life, for lasting friendships were forged amid the context of athletic competitions; I have had the great joy of officiating at several of their weddings and baptizing a few of their children.

This camaraderie, this fraternity, this friendship established around a healthy competitiveness and a desire to push others to excel is the greatest blessing sports has to offer to men and women, to boys and girls. Do not lose sight of this. Do not put yourself ahead of your teammates but put yourself at their service, encouraging them always. Catch one another when one of you stumbles. Pick one another up when one of you falls. If you help each other in this way, you will help each other to renew your strength through the goodness of your shared humanity.

There is, however, a sort of athletic competition I do take part in, that of a certain mental gymnastics. When Father John Doctor, O.F.M. first showed me the reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah proclaimed for us this evening (Isaiah 40:29-31), my first thought turned to the writings of the great J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, because eagles play a prominent role in his tales. The eagles arrive always in the nick of time to rescue the main characters from what appears certain doom.

Some people have asked why the eagles didn’t simply fly Frodo and Sam directly to Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring. To these people, Tolkien had a simple answer, which you can watch him give on a video on YouTube: “Shut up.”

More seriously, and more importantly, Tolkien called the coming of the eagles a eucatastrophe, which is to say


a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.[1]

Your victory in athletic pursuits can give a fleeting glimpse of joy, a foretaste of that fullness of Joy which will be known by those who have competed well in this life and find themselves at last before the Face of God (cf. II Timothy 4:7).

That said, my thoughts turned next to those most curious of texts, the medieval bestiaries, books something like a combination of a zoology textbook and a book of mythology. The medievals knew that, because everything that exists is created by God, there must be some mark of the Creator in each created thing. The bestiaries not only give an indication to the nature and habitat of various animals, but also what we can learn about God from them.

Turning, then, to the bestiaries, they say something intriguing about the eagle that we know, in point of fact, to be untrue. Nonethess, that did not stop them from allegorizing the eagle. Taking their cue from the verse we heard from Isaiah that those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength like the eagle (cf. Isaiah 40:31), the bestiaries say something like this:


And it is a true fact that when the eagle grows old and his wings become heavy and his eyes become darkened with a mist, then he goes in search of a fountain, and, over against it, he flies up to the height of heaven, even unto the circle of the sun; and there he singes his wings and at the same time evaporates the fog of his eyes, in a ray of the sun. Then at length, taking a header down into the fountain, he dips himself three times in it, and instantly he is renewed with a great vigour of plumage and splendour of vision.[2]

What are we to make of this strange account? The bestiaries tell us:


Do the same thing, O Man, you who are clothed in the old garment and have the eyes of your heart growing foggy. Seek for the spiritual fountain of the Lord and lift up your mind’s eyes to God – who is the fount of justice – and then your youth will be renewed like the eagle’s.[3]

Be, then, hawks, like the eagle. Soar high, and bathe in the fountain of God. If you do, we will be renewed and refreshed for you will have realized the wisdom of Saint Augustine who famously said to God, “you made us for yourself and our hearts find no peace until they rest in you.”[4] Amen.

Go hawks!



[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, On Fairy Stories.

[2] T.H. White, ed. and trans., The Book of Beasts: Being a Translation from a Latin Bestiary of the Twelfth Century (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 2013), 106-107.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, I.1.