16th Sunday in OT---Sheep without a Shepherd (Glenmary Appeal in Miami)

Jesus’ heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.

I grew up working on a friend’s pig farm back in Minnesota during high school and college.  Believe me, it was a smelly way to earn some money.  When asked why I decided to become a priest, I usually tell people it was because I smelled so bad, and could never find a date.  One summer the owners of the farm decided to get a flock of sheep.  None of us really knew much about sheep, but we were soon to learn. 

It did not take me long to figure out that when left to their own devices, sheep were not very smart.  They would walk out into the pond to drink some water and cool off.  Before they realized they had sunk into the mud become stuck, sometimes almost drowning.  They would then remain there for hours until one of the workers came and helped them out.   Even more, despite having an entire pen of long, green grass, they were insistent on eating the grass on the other side of the fence.  They would stick their head through the fence, trying to get the grass, and inevitably their horns would become stuck in the wire.  Finally, they could never figure out the right animal to follow.  They would always follow this horse around that was in the pen with them.  Yet, the horse hated it.  So when the sheep got to close the horse would kick and the sheep would get hit. 

It didn’t take us long to figure out that without a proper shepherd, sheep would inevitably find themselves in a lot of trouble.

In the gospel today, Jesus is having one of those days where he just needs to get away.  I am sure you all have experienced this too.  The, “If the kids ask for one more thing from me I am going to go crazy,” kind of days.  Well, it was one of these days for Jesus and his followers.  He even gets into a boat and sails away just to avoid the crowds.  It is to no avail, though, for when he arrives at the other side of the shore, the people are waiting for him.  Rather than get frustrated, he has pity on them.  He has pity on them.  For he sees that they are like sheep without a shepherd.  Sheep without a shepherd.  And he chooses to give them his life as their shepherd.

I think perhaps if we are honest with ourselves, we are a lot like sheep without a shepherd, too.

Without a shepherd, sometimes we wander too far out into the pond, and find ourselves stuck in the mud.  We tell ourselves that we will only look at this one website, and then we find ourselves stuck in the mud and muck of pornography and online sex.  We tell ourselves that we can survive just one hit or one sip, and before we know it the waters of addiction are creeping up over our shoulders, ready to envelop us.  We are like sheep without a shepherd.

Without a shepherd, sometimes we look for grass where we probably shouldn’t.  After having a fight with our spouse we turn to a coworker for comfort.  Soon, we find ourselves caught in a fence of infidelity.  We see a business practice that probably isn’t as honest as it should be.  Soon, we find our character locked in a fence of lies.  We are like sheep without a shepherd.

Without a shepherd, sometimes we follow the wrong leader.  We follow the leader of pluralism and find that when every idea has an equal truth value, then no idea has a truth value.  And we are kicked in the side by falsity and lies.  Sometimes, we follow only ourselves and what we have determined to be right or correct.  Then we look around and we have been separated from the entire flock.  We are like sheep without a shepherd.

I think that if we are honest each one of us has felt the effects of being a sheep without a shepherd.  We have all made mistakes.  We have all sinned.  I include myself in this group.  It is painful.  It is shameful.  It is sad.  But in the gospel message today there is hope. 

Jesus has pity on those who were like sheep without a shepherd.  He has pity on us.  All we must do is accept him as our shepherd. 

We can be led by him and confess the mistakes of our past and have them wiped away in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. 

We can be led by him and have our marriages renewed, our relationships renewed, our bodies renewed. 

We can be led by him and find the beginnings of new life, where freedom from addiction, pain and suffering is possible. 

We can be led by him, and silence the voices of falsity guiding our lives.  We can be led by him, and be guided by his voice of truth.

We can be led by him, the only shepherd that is both human and so understands our struggles, and divine, and so can free us from them. 

We can be led by him, the only shepherd who loved us so much that he was willing to die for us. 

We can be led by him.

But it is a choice we must make.  And thanks be to God we have the freedom to make that choice.

I belong to a religious community called the Glenmary Home Missioners.  In the 1930s, our founder looked upon regions in the south and south east of the United States, along with Appalachia, and saw that these people were like sheep without a shepherd.  Hundreds of counties throughout this area had no Catholic presence:  people would have to drive hours just to receive the sacraments of the church.  Thus most would go without.  These people were like sheep without a shepherd, being in some of the most poor and neglected areas of the United States.  These people were like sheep without a shepherd, receiving poor education, few opportunities to grow, and little to no health care.  These people were like sheep without a shepherd, never receiving the chance to hear of the good shepherd who gives himself to us in the Eucharist.  Therefore, he founded Glenmary, and for nearly 75 years the community has worked tirelessly to bring the gifts of the Catholic Church to these areas.  To be shepherds for a people that would normally have gone without.

At the beginning of September I am going to begin my first assignment as associate pastor in Glenmary’s newest missions in Eastern Tennessee.  I am super excited for this opportunity.  Imagine, just a few short months ago, this mission was nothing but a few Catholics gathering at a parishioner’s house, and celebrating mass in this county for the first time ever.  Now, this mission has attracted hundreds of Catholics who gather for Mass every week in an abandoned store front.  And there is talk that soon an actual church will need to be built.  In just a few short months, hundreds of people have been given the chance to follow the good shepherd, Jesus Christ.  And hundreds more will likely follow after them.

We all struggle with moments in` life of being sheep without a shepherd.  It is painful.  It hurts not only us, but also others.  Jesus longs for us to follow him.  He only asks that we freely do so.  And we are blessed to have the opportunity to make that choice.  Yet vast areas still exist where people do not have the freedom to make that choice.  And so I close in humbly asking you to please consider offering your support to Glenmary that we could present the good shepherd, Jesus Christ, to so many thousands of people who have still yet to hear his voice and to follow him.  Support us with your prayers, consider a vocation, or if you are able, help us financially.  We are all like sheep without a shepherd.  Help is to bring this shepherd to thousands of people who are in need.

Peace and thank you.

13th Sunday of OT--Homily for my Appeal in Wheatfield

When we come to the end of the road, where do we turn? When we find that nothing is going right and there is no hope in sight, to whom do we go? When we are faced with sickness, sadness, suffering and even death, what do we do?

I have been a priest now for about five weeks. In many ways it has been the most amazing thing that has happened to me in my life. It is the culmination of seven years of formation, the help of many people, serious, tough discernment, and probably nothing less than a leap of faith. It feels amazing to finally have reached this point. But I have to say, the path of faith and the priesthood was not always the one I walked.

Over a decade ago, before going through a serious conversion, Jesus Christ and his Church were not likely places for me to turn when I faced times of trial. Oftentimes, I turned to less healthy places. Sometimes I thought I could rely solely on myself. Ultimately, I did not want to accept the reality that without God and his Church, I was bankrupt, nothing, going down the wrong path. Only when I had come to a point where I had exhausted all other means, and they were not working for me, did my eyes wake up to the fact that it was to Jesus alone and in his Church that I could turn when I had reached the end of my strength.

And so I ask the question: where do you all turn when you are truly in need?

Today’s Gospel reading from Mark begs us to ask this question. For Jairus, a synagogue official, when he had reached the scariest, most hopeless and painful situation in his life, he knew where to turn. When his daughter was at the point of death due to sickness, he fell on his knees at the feet of Jesus. He knew that only in him was there hope and healing.

Where do we turn when we are truly in need?

For many of us, when we are in need, we turn to the caring hands of the Church. The grace of the Sacraments. The power of forgiveness in confession. The strengthening of the Eucharist. The love experienced in Christ and his community. And how blessed we are that these gifts are available to us. And yet sometimes they are so easily available that we take their presence for granted. But the presence of these gifts is not always a reality for all people.

I belong to a religious community called the Glenmary home missioners. And for almost 75 years now, Glenmary has brought the very gifts of the Catholic Church to areas in the United States where they have never existed. They have brought food to the hungry. They have brought clothing to those who were naked. They have brought the Sacraments of the Church, and especially the Mass, to places they had never been celebrated before. Glenmary has established hundreds of parishes and ministries throughout the south and southeastern areas of the United States where without their work, the precious gifts of the Church would not be available. Without Glenmary’s work, when the people of these areas are truly in need, they likely have to turn to unhealthy means for a temporary, or even disastrous results. Or, they would simply have no place to turn to at all.

And yet, because of Glenmary’s humble efforts, the lives of so many people have been changed.

I think of Kristine, who as her life was coming to an end, had no one to visit her and pray with her. Yet it was a Glenmary priest who prayed with her and sat by her as she breathed her last breathes.

I think of Jane, who was able to avoid the perils of Meth and narcotics because she was able to find strength and comfort in her local Catholic youth group.

I think of Jose and Linda, who suffering the tragic loss of their two-year-old child, were able to find strength and comfort from the ministry of a Glenmary brother.

I think of the thousands of people from so many of Glenmary’s missions, who without our presence would have no place to turn after tornados, flooding, and fire.

Finally, I think of Betty, who after discovering the Eucharist in a terrible time of need, became Catholic despite the rejection of her local community and the disappointment of her family.

These stories could go on. And they are nothing less modern-day miracles. When Jairus’ daughter was on the brink of death, and finally died, it was a miracle that Jesus was able to bring her back to life. That miracle was real. These miracles are real. And because of the humble efforts of Glenmary and the generous support of so many people throughout the United States, and even people here in Wheatfield, these miracles continue to happen in Glenmary’s missions.

Now, it might seem that I am simply standing here and bragging up the work that Glenmary does. But I am certain that in just the 8 short years I have been with Glenmary, the miracles that took place could not have happened without the prayers, financial support and vocational support of so many people. And they could not have happened without the grace of our loving God.

At the beginning of September I am going to begin my first assignment as associate pastor in Glenmary’s newest missions in Eastern Tennessee. I am super excited for this opportunity. Imagine, in just a few short months since being opened up, this mission has attracted hundreds of Catholics who gather for Mass every week in an abandoned store front. In this storefront one will find a make shift altar, a random assortment of chairs donated from three different parishes, a confessional constructed out of sheets and carpet, and even an office that serves as an area for daily mass, and for keeping the books. And yet each Catholic, whether from birth or as a convert, would simply not have access to the miracles of the Church, if it were not for that store front, if it were not for that office-chapel, if it were not for the donated chairs from three different parishes. If it were not for the work of Glenmary and the support of our donors.

So I close in asking that you would all consider supporting Glenmary and the ministry that we do on behalf of the Catholic Church. We all need somewhere to turn when we are in need. I humbly turn to you all in our need as a Glenmary community, and ask that you would help us meet the need of faith, hope and love in the mission areas where we work. Help us to bring resurrection and new life to these areas, just as Jesus did to Jairus’ daughter.

Thank you, and peace.

Tuesday in the Octave of Easter

Somewhere between a tear and a smile the mystery of the resurrection is revealed.

A little over a year ago I traveled home to attend the funeral of my grandmother. She was, and I don’t think this is an idealization, a saint in my family. For us, she was Catholicism. And so as can be expected from her death, there were many tears shed by my family. Yet in the midst of the tears, there came a point where we couldn’t cry anymore. If one more tear was shed we might have passed out from exhaustion, or seemingly disappeared from existence. We had to smile. We had to smile to restore balance to the world that quickly disappeared with her death. So with tears streaming down our faces, we smiled, we laughed, we made contorted pig snorts with noses full of snot, and rejoiced. And in the midst of that chasm between tears and smiles the life of my grandmother was truly revealed.

Mary had reason to weep in today’s Gospel. Her friend: dead. Her savior: gone. Her hope: vanished. And to place insult on her suffering his body had disappeared. Gone with his body were the promises he had made, the miracles he had done, the fulfillment he was supposed to have won. He was dead. The tomb was empty. She had reason to weep.

We have reason to weep, too. Being out in our parishes over Holy Week showed us how much work there is to be done. It showed us the struggles that the people of God face each day. It revealed to us how much we still need to learn ourselves to be ready for service. How weak we are. How we too struggle with faith. How our small Lenten practices could never compare to the great sacrifice that Jesus made for us. Going home may have even solidified inside of us that the seminary just simply isn’t where God is calling us. That it truly is time for us to move on. Whatever it might be, there is a certain element to the mystery of faith, formation, and to life that leaves us still longing inside. Wondering. Groping. So the tears flow down. For we have reason to weep.

But the Gospel story shows us that weeping does not bring about the full mystery of the empty tomb. The tomb is empty. Yes, the tomb is empty!! Jesus appears and shows Mary that the tomb being empty means that tears must be mixed with smiles. The emptiness of the tomb with its tears and weeping gives way to the rabbouni of the resurrection—the smile of faith. So with eyes red, full of tears, cheeks stained with lines of salt, and hair disheveled a smile breaks through. There is a re-turn of joy, rejoicing takes over. Mary has reason to rejoice. He has risen and is ready to return not only to be with his God and Father, but now also our God and our Father. Adoption has taken place. Mary has been adopted. The disciples have been adopted. We have been adopted.

And so in the midst of our tears, in the midst of our empty efforts of faith, our fumbling through formation, the moments of disappointment in ministry we find that his empty tomb is like the womb full of grace, giving birth to faith and newness of life. And so emptiness gives way to fullness. Tears to smiles. Sure, there is much work to do. There is a great journey ahead.

But on this journey we can be assured that somewhere between a tear and a smile the mystery of the resurrection is revealed.