My friend Deacon John who has been recovering from an autologous stem cell transplant and been unable to preach for a while was able to preach at Mass this weekend.
And what a homily it was.
Welcome back to the work God has planned for you my friend.
I still owe you that blanket I was making when I came to see you in Chicago after your transplant. It is completed, I just need to put it in the mail, sorry it has taken so long.
Glad you are feeling better.
Pax
Showing posts with label homily. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homily. Show all posts
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Feast of the Trasfiguration (Thought's from Fr. Bill's Homily)
Christ was Transfigured on the mountain, standing there shimmering like white gold with Moses and Elijah on either side of him and what was poor Peter on about? We should build tents for them.
It took the voice of God booming at him from the clouds for Peter to get back into the moment and just be.
How often is it that we are stuck fussing over past hurts or worrying over a future that hasn't even happened yet when we should be present to what God is doing in this present moment in our lives? That is the gift of the Transfiguration; whatever went before should be left in the past. Whatever might be encountered in the future is best left in God's more capable hands. At this moment, in this place where is God and what is it that God wants of us?
It took the voice of God booming at him from the clouds for Peter to get back into the moment and just be.
How often is it that we are stuck fussing over past hurts or worrying over a future that hasn't even happened yet when we should be present to what God is doing in this present moment in our lives? That is the gift of the Transfiguration; whatever went before should be left in the past. Whatever might be encountered in the future is best left in God's more capable hands. At this moment, in this place where is God and what is it that God wants of us?
Pax
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Kingdom of God is like . . .
right here, right now; and if you aren't living in the kingdom, what is your problem?
That was the message of the final homily at Corpus Christi, our adopted parish down here in paradise. Fr. Bob was trying to get everyone to understand that Jesus used all of those allusions to the kingdom in the gospels to make his followers understand that the kingdom of God was all around them and all they had to do was to choose to live in the kingdom.
Fast forward to here and now, and the message is still valid. The kingdom of God is still here, we are all still living in the kingdom. All we have to do is love one another as Christ loves us. So we must choose to do the right thing at all times. We must choose to live justly (Catholic social justice teachings; sound familiar? If not start reading up) We must choose to make right choices when it comes to our interactions with other people, especially those we say we love. Fr. Bob was especially hard on married people who break their vows.
It should be our choice to live rightly, in the kingdom, not live in sin choosing to live in the world of the evil one. It shouldn't be that difficult a choice.
Wow. I am still reeling at how forcefully he spoke about issues like abortion, and war and capital punishment, FROM THE PULPIT. I know my dear friend Suzanne would have wept with joy. I certainly teared up.
I sure will miss Fr. Bob, and I made a point of telling him so after Mass when we stopped by to say goodbye.
Pax
That was the message of the final homily at Corpus Christi, our adopted parish down here in paradise. Fr. Bob was trying to get everyone to understand that Jesus used all of those allusions to the kingdom in the gospels to make his followers understand that the kingdom of God was all around them and all they had to do was to choose to live in the kingdom.
Fast forward to here and now, and the message is still valid. The kingdom of God is still here, we are all still living in the kingdom. All we have to do is love one another as Christ loves us. So we must choose to do the right thing at all times. We must choose to live justly (Catholic social justice teachings; sound familiar? If not start reading up) We must choose to make right choices when it comes to our interactions with other people, especially those we say we love. Fr. Bob was especially hard on married people who break their vows.
It should be our choice to live rightly, in the kingdom, not live in sin choosing to live in the world of the evil one. It shouldn't be that difficult a choice.
Wow. I am still reeling at how forcefully he spoke about issues like abortion, and war and capital punishment, FROM THE PULPIT. I know my dear friend Suzanne would have wept with joy. I certainly teared up.
I sure will miss Fr. Bob, and I made a point of telling him so after Mass when we stopped by to say goodbye.
Pax
Sunday, July 06, 2008
No Ordinary Message for This Ordinary Time Priest
We have been atteneding Corpus Christi Parish since we have been here in Destin FL. The parish Priest is a great holy priest named Fr. Bob Morris. I have had the pleasure of having a long lunch conversation with him during VBS week and I know that he really loves this parish in a very special way.
His homilies are something very special because of that love. He doesn't pull any punches. He tells people exactly the way things are. He says if you show up late for Mass or leave early then you don't have a clue what it means to be a Catholic and you may as well not bother coming to Mass at all.
Today his message was really amazing. It was all about defining for yourself what kind of committment you have to being a Christian to the world and how that informs how you attend and participate at liturgy.
Using himself as an example he said "I don't attend Mass because I am the priest and I am supposed to; I go to Mass because I want to involve myself in an intimate relationship with God."
He encouraged all of us to attend and particiapate at liturgy for the same reason and with the same zeal. We should sing the songs and responses, and pray the prayers to involve ourselves in an intimate relationship with God who loves us deeply and is drawing us to him in such an intimate way that He is calling us to be fed on His own body and blood broken and poured out for us.
He then told us that we must become like Christ in our own homes for those we love and for those around us. Although Christ is truly present in the tablernacle, Fr. Bob wanted to be able to come to every parishioner's home and be able to visit Christ there as well. It was his challenge to us to live as Christ in the world.
Wow, what a message for this Pauline year. I was so impressed with his message that I actually took out a pen and wrote down the quote so I wouldn't forget it. I think from now on until we go home I may start bringing a little notebook to Mass with me so that I can take notes. His wisdom is worth writing down.
We are so blessed to have been led here for our time in Destin. The people here are so lucky to have him as their Pastor.
Pax
His homilies are something very special because of that love. He doesn't pull any punches. He tells people exactly the way things are. He says if you show up late for Mass or leave early then you don't have a clue what it means to be a Catholic and you may as well not bother coming to Mass at all.
Today his message was really amazing. It was all about defining for yourself what kind of committment you have to being a Christian to the world and how that informs how you attend and participate at liturgy.
Using himself as an example he said "I don't attend Mass because I am the priest and I am supposed to; I go to Mass because I want to involve myself in an intimate relationship with God."
He encouraged all of us to attend and particiapate at liturgy for the same reason and with the same zeal. We should sing the songs and responses, and pray the prayers to involve ourselves in an intimate relationship with God who loves us deeply and is drawing us to him in such an intimate way that He is calling us to be fed on His own body and blood broken and poured out for us.
He then told us that we must become like Christ in our own homes for those we love and for those around us. Although Christ is truly present in the tablernacle, Fr. Bob wanted to be able to come to every parishioner's home and be able to visit Christ there as well. It was his challenge to us to live as Christ in the world.
Wow, what a message for this Pauline year. I was so impressed with his message that I actually took out a pen and wrote down the quote so I wouldn't forget it. I think from now on until we go home I may start bringing a little notebook to Mass with me so that I can take notes. His wisdom is worth writing down.
We are so blessed to have been led here for our time in Destin. The people here are so lucky to have him as their Pastor.
Pax
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
When it Touches You, Let Him Know
I had been struggling with a meditation on my place in the Church for an entire day. I had been trying to wrap my brain around it and make some sense where I fit in the grand scheme of things and what that all was supposed to mean to me and my journey through this imperfect world and I kept coming up empty. I went to bed resigned to the notion that I wasn't going to be able to get the pieces of this particular puzzle to fit together in any coherent way.
I woke up this morning and it was as if somehow I was on the verge of something, but it was just outside of my grasp. I just couldn't focus my eyes quite enough to see it clearly. That was the feeling I had when I went to morning Mass.
I sat in the church and read through the daily Office of Reading and morning prayer for Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Lent. No inspiration there. Then Fr. Bill came out and started Mass. It was in the simple three sentence homily that he offered after the Gospel that suddenly all those pieces of the puzzle that had been swirling around just out of focus miraculously fell into place in an instant. What I had been agonizing over for an entire day, he had been able to crystallize in just four simple sentences. It was so pure and simple it brought tears to my eyes.
The rest of mass I felt alive with the Spirit. I wanted to sing each response with a new zeal, so that the whole world would know that I had achieved a new level of understanding. The Eucharist even tasted sweeter, well maybe that was just my imagination.
I couldn't wait for Fr. Bill to come out of the sacristy after Mass, because I wanted him to know how much his homily had meant to me.
Here is the funny part. When I told him exactly what I have just told you he said that he was glad because as he was walking away from the ambo after his homily he felt: Well that makes absolutely no sense at all.
I want to encourage all of you if you are positively affected by a homily, please, please take the time to tell the priest (or deacon as the case may be) that you were meant to hear what he had to say. Priests are often discouraged in their ministry, and when they have moments like Fr. Bill had during this mass had I not taken the time to tell him that his words meant so much to me he might have gone through the rest of his day thinking that he was doing a horrible job.
I am still savoring that feeling of wholeness that I got from those three or four sentences, and now I have an ever better look at the "big picture" thanks to Fr. Bill's words that to him made no sense. I am so blessed to have him as my pastor and I fully intend to remember to tell him every time his words are encouraging or challenging in my journey of faith.
Pax
I woke up this morning and it was as if somehow I was on the verge of something, but it was just outside of my grasp. I just couldn't focus my eyes quite enough to see it clearly. That was the feeling I had when I went to morning Mass.
I sat in the church and read through the daily Office of Reading and morning prayer for Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Lent. No inspiration there. Then Fr. Bill came out and started Mass. It was in the simple three sentence homily that he offered after the Gospel that suddenly all those pieces of the puzzle that had been swirling around just out of focus miraculously fell into place in an instant. What I had been agonizing over for an entire day, he had been able to crystallize in just four simple sentences. It was so pure and simple it brought tears to my eyes.
The rest of mass I felt alive with the Spirit. I wanted to sing each response with a new zeal, so that the whole world would know that I had achieved a new level of understanding. The Eucharist even tasted sweeter, well maybe that was just my imagination.
I couldn't wait for Fr. Bill to come out of the sacristy after Mass, because I wanted him to know how much his homily had meant to me.
Here is the funny part. When I told him exactly what I have just told you he said that he was glad because as he was walking away from the ambo after his homily he felt: Well that makes absolutely no sense at all.
I want to encourage all of you if you are positively affected by a homily, please, please take the time to tell the priest (or deacon as the case may be) that you were meant to hear what he had to say. Priests are often discouraged in their ministry, and when they have moments like Fr. Bill had during this mass had I not taken the time to tell him that his words meant so much to me he might have gone through the rest of his day thinking that he was doing a horrible job.
I am still savoring that feeling of wholeness that I got from those three or four sentences, and now I have an ever better look at the "big picture" thanks to Fr. Bill's words that to him made no sense. I am so blessed to have him as my pastor and I fully intend to remember to tell him every time his words are encouraging or challenging in my journey of faith.
Pax
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
All Souls Day
Wis 3:1-9
Rom 5:5-11
Jn 6:37-40
I have to admit, I worry. I worry about lots of things, most of them completely out of my control. Some worries are irrational, some are understandable, but almost none of them are things I can control. I worry about my daughter, my wife, my mother, my sister, my brother, my friends, you get the picture. I worry, and that brings us to today, All Souls Day, the day we remember all of those who have gone before us. Yesterday we celebrated the Feast of All Saints, everyone who has made it to the bigs, whether we know them or not. Today we celebrate everyone, especially those whose disposition is, shall we say, unknown. And that makes me worry. All of us have lost people close to us, people we loved, but people, human beings, subject to all of the frailties and failings that being human can mean. That leads to worry, one of those worries about something that I have absolutely no control over. I don’t have any control, but that doesn’t mean there is nothing I can do. There is much I can do because I can pray. I can pray for those who have gone on before; I can pray that they reach the ultimate glory. I pray because I love (yes love, not loved) them, and want only for them to be with God, to enjoy the perfect peace and love that is Heaven. I pray so that one day they can pray for me, who will undoubtedly need their help and a great deal more. I pray and I worry, but I also find comfort, comfort in today’s Gospel. Jesus says “Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and I will not reject anyone who comes to me.” Later Jesus says “For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.” Everyone who believes, not everyone who is perfect, not everyone who is without fault. God wants us, all of us. Sure, we can still mess it up, but God still wants us, all of us. I find that thought very comforting indeed. Hope for me, hope for those I love, hope for all of us is there, there in the boundless love of God. Maybe today I can worry just a little less.
Deacon John
Feast of All Souls
Nov. 2, 2006
Rom 5:5-11
Jn 6:37-40
I have to admit, I worry. I worry about lots of things, most of them completely out of my control. Some worries are irrational, some are understandable, but almost none of them are things I can control. I worry about my daughter, my wife, my mother, my sister, my brother, my friends, you get the picture. I worry, and that brings us to today, All Souls Day, the day we remember all of those who have gone before us. Yesterday we celebrated the Feast of All Saints, everyone who has made it to the bigs, whether we know them or not. Today we celebrate everyone, especially those whose disposition is, shall we say, unknown. And that makes me worry. All of us have lost people close to us, people we loved, but people, human beings, subject to all of the frailties and failings that being human can mean. That leads to worry, one of those worries about something that I have absolutely no control over. I don’t have any control, but that doesn’t mean there is nothing I can do. There is much I can do because I can pray. I can pray for those who have gone on before; I can pray that they reach the ultimate glory. I pray because I love (yes love, not loved) them, and want only for them to be with God, to enjoy the perfect peace and love that is Heaven. I pray so that one day they can pray for me, who will undoubtedly need their help and a great deal more. I pray and I worry, but I also find comfort, comfort in today’s Gospel. Jesus says “Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and I will not reject anyone who comes to me.” Later Jesus says “For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.” Everyone who believes, not everyone who is perfect, not everyone who is without fault. God wants us, all of us. Sure, we can still mess it up, but God still wants us, all of us. I find that thought very comforting indeed. Hope for me, hope for those I love, hope for all of us is there, there in the boundless love of God. Maybe today I can worry just a little less.
Deacon John
Feast of All Souls
Nov. 2, 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
...was blind, but now I see
Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary time
Jeremiah 31:7-9
Hebrews 5:1-6
Mark 10:46-52
There is an old saying, be careful of what you ask for, you might get it. It seems odd, but sometimes the very thing we want the most is the thing that disappoints us the most. I remember way back in a freshman psychology class reading about a study done of people who were born blind gaining their sight. This group of individuals had always been blind, they had never had sight. Through a surgical procedure they were able to see for the first time. Surprisingly, the study found that almost all of them reported being disappointed. Gaining their sight was not the euphoric experience they thought it would be, they felt let down. Their expectation of what the world would look like did not match the reality of the world. Never having seen before, I’m not sure what they expected, but as we know the world can be a dull, dingy place, not always bright, cheerful and wonderful. They got the one thing they wanted, but it wasn’t what they though it would be.
Outside of Jericho waited a man named Bartimaeus, a man blind from birth. He waited for the coming of a man named Jesus. He had heard of this man, of his great healing powers, and he waited. All Bartimaeus wanted was to see. Nothing else mattered, nothing else, he thought, could matter as much in his life as gaining the ability to see. So he waited, waited for Jesus, waited for the hope of sight. When Jesus approached Bartimaeus boldly called out to him, “Son of David, have pity on me.” People tried to quiet him, to make him, go away, to keep him from bothering Jesus, but he would not stop. Seeing was the only thing that mattered, and Jesus was the one who could make that possible. So Bartimaeus called out, until Jesus said “bring him to me.” When Jesus asked Bartimaeus what he wanted Bartimaeus did not hesitate, “Master, I want to see.” Jesus then said “go your way, your faith has saved you.” And for the first time in his life, Bartimaeus could see. We don’t know what his reaction to sight was, but it must have been positive because the scripture says he followed Jesus on the way. Bartimaeus may not have been disappointed. Yes, he was able to see for the first time, but more than that, he heard the words Jesus said to him, “Go your way, your faith has saved you.” Your faith has saved you, not your sight, sight is only secondary, secondary to being saved, saved from blindness, physical blindness, and the blindness that keeps us from seeing Jesus, and ourselves as Jesus sees us. We who seek to follow Jesus are a lot like Bartimaeus, we are blind and calling out to the Son of God to allow us to see. Jesus answers us as he answered Bartimaeus, and we can see. But like those blind from birth who suddenly gain sight, we’re disappointed. Disappointed because what we can see isn’t necessarily what we want to see. We are given the power to see, the power to see ourselves as we truly are, and all too often it’s not a pretty picture. We expected brightness, light, glory. What we get is ourselves, our faults, our failings. What a disappointment. We want light, we want glory, we want to be free from our faults, we want it to get easier. What we forget is all of what Jesus said to Bartimaeus, and to us. Go your way, your faith has saved you. Faith, that is what matters. It is our faith that makes it possible for us to ask for sight. It is our faith that allows us to see who we are. Faith opens our eyes to ourselves, but it also opens our eyes to God, to the God who grants us that faith, and that sight, and the grace to use that sight to change. The greatest gift we can get is the sight that faith gives us, the sight to see our faults, and the faith to repent of them. Seeing doesn’t make it easy, it just makes it possible. We must be like Bartimaeus, we must be persistent. Keep calling out, keep asking for the power to see, and the grace to act on that vision. Keep calling, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.”
Deacon John Simons
30th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Oct. 29, 2006
Jeremiah 31:7-9
Hebrews 5:1-6
Mark 10:46-52
There is an old saying, be careful of what you ask for, you might get it. It seems odd, but sometimes the very thing we want the most is the thing that disappoints us the most. I remember way back in a freshman psychology class reading about a study done of people who were born blind gaining their sight. This group of individuals had always been blind, they had never had sight. Through a surgical procedure they were able to see for the first time. Surprisingly, the study found that almost all of them reported being disappointed. Gaining their sight was not the euphoric experience they thought it would be, they felt let down. Their expectation of what the world would look like did not match the reality of the world. Never having seen before, I’m not sure what they expected, but as we know the world can be a dull, dingy place, not always bright, cheerful and wonderful. They got the one thing they wanted, but it wasn’t what they though it would be.
Outside of Jericho waited a man named Bartimaeus, a man blind from birth. He waited for the coming of a man named Jesus. He had heard of this man, of his great healing powers, and he waited. All Bartimaeus wanted was to see. Nothing else mattered, nothing else, he thought, could matter as much in his life as gaining the ability to see. So he waited, waited for Jesus, waited for the hope of sight. When Jesus approached Bartimaeus boldly called out to him, “Son of David, have pity on me.” People tried to quiet him, to make him, go away, to keep him from bothering Jesus, but he would not stop. Seeing was the only thing that mattered, and Jesus was the one who could make that possible. So Bartimaeus called out, until Jesus said “bring him to me.” When Jesus asked Bartimaeus what he wanted Bartimaeus did not hesitate, “Master, I want to see.” Jesus then said “go your way, your faith has saved you.” And for the first time in his life, Bartimaeus could see. We don’t know what his reaction to sight was, but it must have been positive because the scripture says he followed Jesus on the way. Bartimaeus may not have been disappointed. Yes, he was able to see for the first time, but more than that, he heard the words Jesus said to him, “Go your way, your faith has saved you.” Your faith has saved you, not your sight, sight is only secondary, secondary to being saved, saved from blindness, physical blindness, and the blindness that keeps us from seeing Jesus, and ourselves as Jesus sees us. We who seek to follow Jesus are a lot like Bartimaeus, we are blind and calling out to the Son of God to allow us to see. Jesus answers us as he answered Bartimaeus, and we can see. But like those blind from birth who suddenly gain sight, we’re disappointed. Disappointed because what we can see isn’t necessarily what we want to see. We are given the power to see, the power to see ourselves as we truly are, and all too often it’s not a pretty picture. We expected brightness, light, glory. What we get is ourselves, our faults, our failings. What a disappointment. We want light, we want glory, we want to be free from our faults, we want it to get easier. What we forget is all of what Jesus said to Bartimaeus, and to us. Go your way, your faith has saved you. Faith, that is what matters. It is our faith that makes it possible for us to ask for sight. It is our faith that allows us to see who we are. Faith opens our eyes to ourselves, but it also opens our eyes to God, to the God who grants us that faith, and that sight, and the grace to use that sight to change. The greatest gift we can get is the sight that faith gives us, the sight to see our faults, and the faith to repent of them. Seeing doesn’t make it easy, it just makes it possible. We must be like Bartimaeus, we must be persistent. Keep calling out, keep asking for the power to see, and the grace to act on that vision. Keep calling, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.”
Deacon John Simons
30th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Oct. 29, 2006
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