Homily - 4 July 2021 - How Saint Joseph teaches us the perfection of freedom

The Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Dear brothers and sisters,

Before sending Ezekiel to a rebellious people with the mission to convert them, the prophet tells us that the Holy Spirit entered into him and “set me on my feet” (Ezekiel 2:2). This is a curious phrase he uses, “set me on my feet.” What does it mean?

This phrase can, of course, have several different meanings, either all at once or each in turn. To be set on one’s feet can mean to be strengthened or to be made firm; it can mean to be grounded or set aright or corrected; it can be taken literally, as when a parent stands a toddler up when learning to walk, or it can be figurative.

Whichever of these meanings Ezekiel intended, one thing is certain: he does not speak in the active sense, but in the passive. He does not stand himself up on his feet, rather; he is stood up, which requires a certain docility to the Holy Spirit, something men and women of our day are not much open to.

Ezekiel could not rely on his own strength for the mission given to him, but he could only rely on the strength which comes from the grace of God. This Saint Paul also knew when he heard the Lord Jesus say to him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (II Corinthians 12:9). This is the wisdom of the Cross, a wisdom Saint Augustine and so many other Saints both learned and lived. Have we learned this wisdom? Have learned not to rely on our own strength, or courage, or desire, or determination, or ability, or ingenuity? The way and wisdom of the Cross is not the way or wisdom of America; it is not the way of self-reliance.

As we celebrate this weekend our nation’s founding and independence from Great Britain, it is hard not to think of freedom, which can rightly be called the way and wisdom of America. But how wise are we as a country, as a people, as individuals in the way of freedom?

When he thought about freedom some 1,300 years before the Founding Fathers, Saint Augustine said,

The beginning of freedom is to be free from crimes... such as murder, adultery, fornication, theft, fraud, sacrilege and so forth. When once one is without these crimes (and every Christian should be without them), one begins to lift up one's head towards freedom. But this is only the beginning of freedom, not perfect freedom...[1]

Our nation understands this well enough; it knows the beginning of freedom, but it does not know the perfection of freedom.

We think of freedom as the ability – even the right – to do whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want. But the Church knows this is not the perfection of freedom, but rather a very great distortion of freedom, an exaltation of freedom “almost to the point of idolatry.”[2]

Saint Paul told the people of Galatia, “You were called to freedom, brethren, only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another” (Galatians 5:13). We can rightly say, then, that the perfection of freedom is loving service of others; the perfection of freedom is not found in lives of self-absorption.

How much different would our society be if we as individuals, as a people, as a nation, followed these words of the Apostle? How much different would our society be if we lived not as servants of ourselves, with a distorted and idolatrous notion of freedom, but if we instead used our freedom to live as servants of one another, as Saint Paul teaches us? How much more brightly would the light of the love of Christ Jesus shine through us to illumine the darkness of sin and lead men and women into the light of authentic freedom?

If we consider the life of Saint Joseph, we see that “the logic of love is always the logic of freedom, and Joseph knew how to love with extraordinary freedom. He never made himself the center of things. He did not think of himself, but focused instead on the lives of Mary and Jesus.”[3] In this year devoted to the Head of the Holy Family and the Protector of the Church, we have much to learn about authentic freedom, about human freedom from this man who says little with words but speaks eloquently in deeds. From Saint Joseph, we can learn that

freedom is not unlimited: it must halt before the "tree of the knowledge of good and evil", for it is called to accept the moral law given by God. In fact, human freedom finds its authentic and complete fulfilment precisely in the acceptance of that law. God, who alone is good, knows perfectly what is good for man, and by virtue of his very love proposes this good to man in the commandments.[4]

Indeed, “Christian freedom is never identified with libertinage or with the will to do as one pleases; it is actuated in conformity to Christ and hence in authentic service to the brethren and above all to the neediest.”[5]

In the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, we see quite clearly that “freedom is acquired in love, that is, in the gift of self.”[6] As we celebrate our freedom this Independence Day, may we always remember that our freedom is not freedom to do whatever I want, bur rather freedom for love; it is “it is following Christ in the gift of self, right up to the sacrifice on the cross.”[7]

Let us, then, embrace the true freedom of the sons and daughters of God. Let us, like Saint Joseph, strive to use our freedom for loving service of Jesus and his Mother and everyone whom they love. Let us use our freedom to open our hearts to the Holy Spirit so that he might enter into us, stand us up, and send us to a rebellious people, to a people bound in false notions of freedom and set them free to live in love, in the perfection of freedom. Amen.

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[1] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Tractates on the Gospel of John, 41.10.

[2] Pope Saint John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor, 54.

[3] Pope Francis, Patris Corde, 7.

[4] Pope Saint John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor, 35.

[5] Pope Benedict XVI, General Audience Address, 1 October 2008.

[6] Pope Saint John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor, 87.

[7] Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, 1 July 2007.

Homily - 1 May 2021 - The Memorial of Saint Joseph the Worker

The Memorial of Saint Joseph the Worker

Dear brothers and sisters,

As I took my daily walk a few days ago through a neighborhood, I saw something that caught my attention: two houses on the same side of a block had their garage doors open. It was not, however, the open garage doors that intrigued, but rather what was inside the two garages. Both garages were filled with stuff – junk, I surmised – to such an extent that no cars could be parked inside the garage. This curious sight got me thinking.

By definition, a garage is “a shelter or repair shop for automotive vehicles.”[1] By etymology, this word is new to the English language, having been borrowed from French in 1902 from the verb garer, meaning “to shelter” (I did not know this during my walk). What got me thinking was the irony of these two garages. Two rooms, if you will, built for the purpose of sheltering cars were filled with so many unused – and likely unneeded – possessions that the cars had to be left out in the elements, as if the homeowners did not know the fundamental purpose of a garage.

Just as it is possible for us not to know the purpose of a garage, it is also possible for us not to know the purpose of human life and labor. Just as it is possible for not to use a garage for its purpose, it is also possible for us not to human life and labor for its intended purpose. Can you imagine working so hard to earn so much money that you simply buy so many things that you cannot even use or take with you beyond the grave? There are a great many people today who think the purpose of work is to acquire more possessions. In the end, they do not possess these things; rather, the things end up possessing them. Saint Joseph provides us with a remedy for such errors and shows us the purpose of human life and labor, which is why our remembrance of Joseph the Worker is so important. Saint Joseph can show us these remedies because he, too, was called “to be a disciple of Jesus, dedicating his life to the service of the Son of God and of the Virgin Mother, in obedience to the Heavenly Father,” just as we are called to be and to do.[2]

We often think of Saint Joseph’s work as that of a carpenter (cf. Matthew 13:), which, in our understanding, often makes us think of one who builds houses or some such other constructions. But the Greek work that we translate as carpenter, tekton, means something more. It is a word that more closely relates to our word artisan or craftsman. Saint Justin Martyr – who was from Samaria and was beheaded for his faith in Christ about the year A.D. 165 - tells us that Jesus

was considered to be the son of Joseph the carpenter; and He appeared without comeliness, as the Scriptures declared; and He was deemed a carpenter for He was in the habit of working as a carpenter when among men, making plows and yokes; by which He taught the symbols of righteousness and an active life.[3]

Jesus would have learned this trade from Joseph and so it is safe to say that Joseph, too, was in the habit or making plows and yokes and such objects used in domestic life. From this we can see that Joseph “earned an honest living to provide for his family” and that “from him, Jesus learned the value, the dignity and the joy of what it means to eat bread that is the fruit of one’s own labor.”[4]

Saint Joseph teaches us that, instead of being a drudgery, human work is intended to be “a means of participating in the work of salvation, an opportunity to hasten the coming of the Kingdom, to develop our talents and abilities, and to put them at the service of society and fraternal communion.”[5] This is something our society has forgotten and needs to learn again. Human labor is not about acquiring more things, but about “cooperating with God himself, and in some way [becoming] creators of the world around us.”[6]

But there is yet a more important lesson to be learned from Saint Joseph the Worker. In his role as the husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the father of Jesus, Saint Joseph “turned his human vocation to domestic love into a superhuman oblation of himself, his heart and all his abilities, a love placed at the service of the Messiah who was growing to maturity in his home.”[7] Saint Joseph devoted himself entirely to Jesus and those dear to him. Indeed, we might say that “more than carpentry, love is St. Joseph’s labor.”[8] Love should be our labor, as well, love of God and love of neighbor.

Just as love is the purpose of human labor, so is love the purpose of human life. We might, then, rightly say that the purpose of Saint Joseph was to be a place of shelter for the Son of God and his Blessed Mother, in a similar way that a garage is meant to be a shelter for a motor vehicle. In the same way, you and I are meant to be shelters for one another, refuges of love who receive love from God. This is the wisdom and the mighty deed that Jesus taught Saint Joseph and that Saint Joseph, if we learn from his school, will likewise teach us (cf. Matthew 13:54). 

Let us, then, never fail to sit at the feet of Saint Joseph, so that he might teach us the propose of human life and labor. Referring to the Saints of God, Saint Augustine once asked, “What they could do, can you not also do?”[9] Yes, we can learn from Saint Joseph that “entrusting oneself to God means emptying oneself of oneself, renouncing oneself, for only those who accept to lose themselves for God can be called ‘just,’ … that is, can conform their will to God’s will and so fulfill themselves.”[10] May Saint Joseph “guide us in the path of life, obtain for us grace, mercy, and courage, and defend us from every evil. Amen.”[11]

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[1] Merriam-Webster.

[2] Pope Benedict XVI, Address, 5 July 2010.

[3] Saint Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho, 88.

[4] Pope Francis, Patris Corde, 6.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Blessed Pope Paul VI, Homily, 19 March 1966.

[8] Michael Heinlein, “A Labor of Love,” Simply Catholic, 1 May 2021. Accessed 1 May 2021. Available at https://simplycatholic.com/a-labor-of-love/.

[9] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, VIII.11.27.

[10] Pope Benedict XVI, Address, 5 July 2010.

[11] Pope Francis, Patris Corde, 7.

Homily - Good Friday of the Lord's Passion - 2 April 2021

Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion 

Dear brothers and sisters,

Many centuries ago, in one of his homilies for Christmas, Pope Saint Gregory the Great admonished his hearers, saying, “Christian recognize your dignity…”[1] How many Christians do not now know their dignity?

It is no secret that there are a great many people today – men, women, and children - who live without hope, who do not sense their own worth, who think they are not valued by anyone and so they have little love for themselves. They have been deeply wounded by abandonment by betrayal, by use and abuse, by greed and poverty, by hunger and thirst, and by sickness and isolation. Having forgotten what it is to be truly loved, they live without hope and often find themselves in a state of despair; they have forgotten their own dignity.

On this Friday which we call Good, we have a wondrous and inexhaustible reminder of our dignity as Christians. Today we remember that “it was in Christ that the unthinkable became a reality. In Christ, God showed that man was worth suffering for.”[2] Why does one willingly suffer for another if not because of love? Do not parents willingly suffer for their children and friends willingly suffer for each other? Do we not know that we are loved, at least in part, by how much someone is willing to suffer for us?

We do not like to think much about this central aspect of love; we prefer the more romantic notion. But, at its core, authentic and sincere love “seeks the good of the beloved: it becomes renunciation and it is ready, and even willing, for sacrifice.”[3]

Soon, brothers and sisters, we will gaze upon the wood of the Cross; we will see the unmistakable sign of Christ Jesus’ love for each one of us. We will see the proof of the pain he bore for us and of sufferings that he endured for us (cf. Isaiah 53:4). Standing, sitting, or kneeling before his Cross, how can we not see how much he loves us? How can we not recognize our dignity?

Ms. 64 (97.MG.21), fol. 86

To be loved by God who suffered and died for us while we were still sinners is to have a dignity so great that it cannot be taken away from us (cf. Romans 5:8 and 8:38). As we adore the Cross of our Savior, let us not leave it here; let us, rather, take it with us everywhere we go. Let us hold the Cross aloft so that all who see it will know what Christ suffered. Let us hold the Cross aloft so that all who see it will know that they have been redeemed. Let us hold the Cross aloft so that all who see it will recognize their dignity. Let us hold the Cross aloft so that all who see it will entrust themselves to the hands of his mercy. Let us hold the Cross aloft so that all who see it will know they are not forgotten but immensely and personally loved. Amen.

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[1] Pope Saint Gregory the Great, Sermon 22 in Nativitatem Domini, 3.

[2] Joseph Ratzinger/Benedict XVI, Seeking God’s Face: Meditations for the Church Year. David Smith and Robert Cunningham, trans. (Providence, Rhode Island: Cluny, 2020), 27.

[3] Pope Benedict XVI, Deus caritas est, 6.

Homily - Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper - 1 April 2021

Holy Thursday of the Lord’s Supper (B) 

Dear brothers and sisters,

On this holy evening we commemorate the final meal of the Lord Jesus with the closest and most intimate of his friends. He had often eaten with them, and fed them, both with physical food and – more importantly – the food of his holy words. But tonight he does so seemingly for the last time as he prepares to give his life for them and for us.

Although our celebration this evening began in joy, it will end in sorrow as we experience Our Lord’s departure to the Garden of Gethsemane and his imprisonment in the cistern prior to his trial before Pontius Pilate. Tonight, therefore, we remember that “the love that drove Him to die for us was the same love that made Him give us Himself as nourishment. It was not enough to be giving us gifts, words, instructions; He gave us Himself as well.”[1] His Crucifixion is profoundly conjoined to the Last Supper.

Ms: Bibliothèque Nationale de France, BNF Fr 22928

We have gathered again, then, at the altar of the Lord to remember that the Lord Jesus “loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end” (John 13:1). Who are his own in the world if not those joined to him in the waters of Baptism? Yes, dear brothers and sisters, you and I are his own; he loved us to the end and gave himself up for us. What is more, his love is not simply something in the past tense, but also in the present tense; it is not just that he loved us, but that he loves us still (cf. Revelation 1:5).

It is his continual and ongoing love for us that we celebrate in every celebration of the Holy Mass, but on this night in a special way. He shows us the depths of his love for us in his washing of the feet of his disciples, in his giving of himself as our nourishment, and in his wondrous commitment to give his life for us, as he himself said (cf. John 13:14).

Those two little words, “for us,” carry such profound importance.

We can have no understanding of these words “for you” until we cleanse ourselves of every trace of sentimentality. We must clarify in our minds the degree of isolation Our Lord stood in, abandoned by all that might have helped, without the stimulating atmosphere pervading great affairs, no enthusiasm of any kind about Him, without the support of elan or natural drives or creative compulsion. He knows that men are lost. He knows they can only breathe in the freedom of salvation when satisfaction has been made for their sins. Life may only come to them through a death which He alone can die. He takes this for granted, starts from this premise. That is what is meant by the “for us.”[2]

Just as he asks those first disciples, so he asks each one of us: “Do you realize what I have done for you” (John 13:12)? We cannot fully realize what he has done for us unless we realize what it means that he has loved us to the end.

On first hearing, we might think that this phrase means he loved us to his death. This is not altogether incorrect; indeed, it is true. At the same time, however, it is not altogether complete. Saint Augustine tells us that this phrase, “to the end,” means “the end that consummates, not that consumes; the end whereto we attain, not wherein we perish,” which is to say the end as in the goal.[3] The goal of the Christian life, of course, is Christ Jesus; “he is our end; into Him do we pass.”[4]

We can pass into Christ as the goal of our lives because he continually nourishes us with the gift of himself. Whereas normal food is changed into us, with the Holy Eucharist – the Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus – he changes us into himself by the strength and power of his love. Let us then this night renew our love for him in this night so that we might understand what he has done for us. Let us strive to draw so close to him as to be his close and intimate friends that we may truly be his own. Amen.

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[1] Romano Guardini, Jesus Christ: A Classic Meditation on Christ by the Author of The Lord (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 2012), 97.

[2] Ibid., 95-96.

[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Tractates on the Gospel of John, 55.2.

[4] Ibid.