Fr. JC Maximilian

I know that I have been very quiet here on my blog, and I fear that I may have lost some of the readers of the blog. Things have just been very hectic in my life right now, and with the many things that I have to get done, there really has not been much time for blogging. However, I did publish my homily for the 1st Sunday of Advent, below.

As I mentioned in a previous post, my father has become quite ill with terminal lung cancer. It has spread throughout much of his body. It came on very quickly (first diagnosed in October), so the mere fact of the illness, let alone the advance stage of it, still has my family reeling abit.

My pastor is a big-hearted man, and he basically gave me the last two weeks off to be with my family. I came back for the weekend Mass. Of course the other two priests at the parish are equally generous and flexible, covering extra weekday Masses, and even hospital duty. My brother priests are truly a blessing for which I am extremely thankful.

The past two weeks has been a lot of time in the hospital, and then when dad was released, taking him daily for radiation (chemo is just once a week). My father started attending daily Mass with my mother about 15 years ago, after he retired, so one of the hardships that he has been struggling with has been not being allowed to go to Mass (he cannot be in big crowds because his treatment has lowered his immune system). Therefore it has been a true joy for him for me to say Mass for him and my mother, mostly at home, but even once in the hospital.

I have also been doing a lot of paperwork, assisting my uncle get into an assisted-living facility. We’re not finished with that yet, but almost. That situation is also a stress. I know that my uncle really does not want to go, but he knows that he cannot take care of himself alone, and now my parents really are not able to assist him as they once did. Also he is struggling with the fact of my dad’s illness as much as any of us. Dad is his YOUNGER brother, and the only family he has left (well, besides my sisters and I, an elderly aunt, and a few cousins).

I am back in the parish now, though I still do not think I will be posting as much. Hopefully at least once a week. I hope that you will “stay tuned.” If I figure out how to set the RSS status, you can get a heads up when I post again. Have a blessed Advent.

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It must have been eight or nine years ago, either the Thanksgiving or Christmas before I enter the seminary, and it was probably the most frightening experience I have had in a car. I had been to my sister’s in-laws’ house in St. Louis for the holiday dinner, and I was driving back to my home in Columbia, MO. I wanted to get home to write some lecture notes. I knew that the weather report said that there was a severe snowstorm coming, but I – in my arrogance, or pride, or just plain foolishness – thought that I could beat the storm. I was feeling pretty good about my decision until I got about 10 miles from my house when the storm hit. Now I went to school in Illinois, so I have seen some pretty bad blizzards, but I never experienced a storm quite as bad as this one. It was a complete “white-out.” I could not see more than 10 feet in front of my car, and could not see the road at all. I had enough wits about me to immediately slow down, but I did not know what I was going to do. There is not much in central Missouri; home was the closest safe place to get off the highway, and I was afraid that even if I could find the side of the road without falling into a ditch, that I would become hopelessly snowbound. I was afraid of either freezing to death on the side of the road, or getting hit by someone who just would not be able to see me. As I weighed my options it happened. Suddenly there was a tractor-trailer in front of me, which I nearly rear-ended. Needless to say, at first that only increased my anxiety, but then I realized that I could just follow him to my exit. It was the most frightening ride of my life.

While most of you probably have not been as foolish as I to drive in such a blizzard, I am sure that most of you know what it is like to eagerly strain your eyes looking for home at the end of a wearisome, maybe even stressful journey. In the pitch darkness a few miles may seem like a hundred miles, and we wonder just when we will reach our destination and safety.

The Israelites to whom the Prophet Isaiah was writing which we heard in our first reading knew quite well that sense of darkness, that straining with the eyes to see their destination, that longing for home which most of us have experienced. The Israelites to whom Isaiah addresses this prophecy had been sent into exile by the Babylonians, their nation had been destroyed, and they were wondering how things could have gotten so bad. Of course they only had to look in a mirror to see the cause of their woe. It was their own pride, their own arrogance, their own sin that caused the confusion and strife that they were experiencing.

Thousands of years later we are not all that different than those ancient Israelites. Our own sins – stemming from our own pride & arrogance – leave us feeling just as confused and woeful. We are very aware that our world is fallen in sin and alienated from its creator and master.

Yet all is not lost. Again we should learn from our ancestors in the faith. The Israelites to whom Isaiah speaks are not lost in despair. The passage we heard today is filled not only with a humble admission of guilt, but also with a soaring hope that God’s compassion and mercy would overcome their tendency to wander from their convictions. They lived in the hope and expectation that God would redeem them from their sin. They did not know when their Savior would come, but they knew that He would deliver them from their sins.

This attitude of expectation, of hope, is one that the Church encourages in us, her children, permanently. The Church sees this attitude of expectation and hope as an essential part of our Christian life that we should still be looking forward. Yes, the Savior has come. Jesus has conquered sin and death, and has established His kingdom. Yet we must still be looking forward; watching for God’s coming into the sin, confusion, and alienation in our lives, in our world. We should be living a joyful hope for the final completion of God’s kingdom that will never end.

During Advent, the Church encourages us “to take the shepherd-folk for our guides, and imagine ourselves traveling with them, at dead of night, straining our eyes towards that chink of light which streams out, we know, from the cave at Bethlehem” (R.A. Knox, Sermons on Advent, December 21, 1947).

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My Dad spent the most part of last week in the hospital. They were trying to determine if they could do a hip replacement since he has a fracture. However, because the cancer has spread throughout so much of the bone, they determined that there would not be enough good bone to attach the new hip.

While all that time visiting him in the hospital gave me a lot of time to reflect on the readings for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, I did not have my computer for typing out a homily. To be honest, but the end of the week, when I was back at the rectory, I just could not write anything. But I did have some thoughts, and when I stood before the people of God last night for Mass, the Lord must have spoken powerfully through me, because after Mass a good number of people said that they really enjoyed the homily. Now, even though I am just a “toddler” of a priest (only ordained 18 months on November 15) I realize that a good number of people who say to me after Mass, “good homily Father,” are just making a polite comment. Not that they did not like my homily, but kind of like saying “fine” when people say to you in greeting “how are you doing?” And to be honest, that’s OK with me — I am not looking for compliments or pats on the back. As Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange, OP, the teacher of Pope John Paul II, said in one of his books on the priesthood, the focus of the Mass should be on Christ, entering into His work of Salvation, namely His Passion, Death and Resurrection. While acknowledging the importance of the homily in helping the faithful grow in their faith by learning more about it, Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange cautions priests about preaching too long, not because of fear of causing boredom, but rather fearing that the attention may turn more to the priest and his ego. As long as people are participating in the Mass (yes, that means singing too!), I am happy. However, when people leaving Mass stop and share with you how the homily touched them, whether challenging them in an area they need to be challenged in, or encouraging them in their need, you know that they really were paying attention.

I started off last night by saying that a poll was released last week that reported that 76% of US Catholics report saying that they can be a “good Catholic” without going to Mass on Sundays. Several people have also told me that they never hear priests talk about the duty of Sunday Mass. So I told them, “OK, here is a priest telling you, if you deliberately miss Sunday Mass, without having a VERY serious reason, then you are committing a mortal sin. And if you die in a state of mortal sin then you will go to hell for all eternity.” I cannot tell you how many people came up to me after Mass to say that they were so happy to hear a priest talk about mortal sin and hell and the importance of Sunday Mass.

The rest of my homily focused on not knowing when the Lord would come. I told them that at the end of Ordinary Time the reading turn to what is called in theology, eschatology, or the Last Things — death, judgment, Heaven and Hell. I pointed out that St. Paul, in the second reading, warned that the Lord would come as a “theft in the night,” so we need to be prepared for Him. I shared that these readings have been particularly relevant for me for my Dad’s illness came out of the blue, and we really do not know how much time he has left. However his faith has always been the central part of his life. One of the difficult things about his illness is not being able to go to Mass, especially since he has been going to daily Mass for about 15 years, since his retirement. He knew just how special a gift the Mass, particularly the Eucharist, is and he longs for it, for Him.

I explained that a “talent” was equal to about 20 years worth of wages, so even the gift of one talent demonstrated an immense generosity, a generosity that we have all experienced from the Lord for what value can we place on the gift of our life, of our immortal soul. I spoke of how we are all called to use the gifts and talents that the Lord has entrusted to us to build up the Kingdom of God, to share in the mission of the Church according to the Lord’s plan for each of us. That each of us are called to love greatly.

After Mass one person came up to me and said that they had not been to Mass in several years, because they had been angry with the Church, but that my homily reaffirmed for them the gift of the Mass, and that they should not let the petty failings of some people in the Church to keep them from Christ’s Gift of Himself. Another person was touched by my reflections on not knowing when the Lord would come for us, so we must be ever vigilant, for his 22 year-old sister had been tragically killed a month ago in an accident.

After Mass, after locking the church, as I prayed Evening Prayer, I realized just what solace I receive in the Mass. I have been deeply troubled lately, because of Dad’s illness (especially following on the kneels of my own cancer treatment). At times it seems too much for me to handle, but it is in the celebration of the sacraments, when I can “step aside” and let Christ act through me that I find such deep solace. Thank you God!

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I read somewhere that the most common image of God’s relationship with us is that of marriage. One only needs to read the book of the Prophet Hosea to see one beautiful reflection on how YHWH looked upon Israel as His bride – although a frequently unfaithful one. This use of marital imagery continues in the New Testament with Jesus’ parable of the ten virgins that we heard today. In fact, Pope John Paul II, in his work that has become known as the Theology of the Body, teaches that this marital imagery must not be looked at as a mere metaphor, rather it describes the essential quality of the relationship between the Church and God. Christ is the Bridegroom and the Church is the Bride. With this being the case, it is helpful to have an understanding of the marriage customs of Jesus’ day.

During Jesus’ time, a bride was first “betrothed,” often at a very young age, to her husband but continued to live with her family. Then at some appointed time, often months later, the bridegroom would come to “claim” her. Then the bridegroom would lead his bride, her family and the bridal party to the wedding feast that would inaugurate and celebrate the bridegroom’s and bride’s new life together. To properly understand the parable we must keep this background in mind.

As I have already mentioned, Jesus is the Bridegroom and the Church is His Bride. It is in such a manner that Jesus fulfills the promise that God made to join Himself to His people as a husband cleaves to his bride. As members of the Church, we are the bridal party – in this parable represented by the ten virgins.

At our baptism the priest, acting in the Person of Christ, claimed us for Christ with the Sign of the Cross. This was our betrothal to Christ, our first commitment to a permanent, faithful, fruitful and holy life with Jesus our Lord and Savior. However we are still in our parents’ home, awaiting our Bridegroom to come and claim us, and then to take us to His home to celebrate our new life together. It is not surprising that in the Book of Revelation heaven is described as an everlasting wedding feast.

However we are not there yet. While the Kingdom of God has been initiated by the life, passion, death and resurrection of Christ Jesus, there is still a “not-yet” aspect to it. While this home, our earthly life is important and good, we should be awaiting our eternal home in heaven. Sacred Scripture says that in this life we are foreign pilgrims. The Greek word used in the New Testament for the word “pilgrim” is “paroikos,” which comes from the word for “next” (para) and “house” (oikias). Thus the Greek word “paroikias,” which we translate as “parish,” and indicates that we are living in a provisional house. Our next house will be our permanent home.

The life of Christians is a life of pilgrimage and exile. Christians are “in” the world, but not “of” the world (cf. John 17:11,16). Their true homeland is in heaven, and they await Jesus Christ the savior to come (cf. Philippians 3:20). They do not have a stable dwelling, but are on the way to their future one (cf. Hebrews 13:14). The whole Church is no more than a great “parish.” The second-century letter to Diogenes defines Christians as men who “inhabit their own homelands, but as foreigners; they participate in everything as citizens, but endure everything as foreigners; every foreign land is their homeland, and every homeland is foreign to them.” (This paragraph is taken from commentary on the parable of the ten virgins given by Fr. Raniero Cantalamessa, the preacher of the Pontifical Household.)

The parable in today’s Gospel asks us what type of “virgin” are we? Are we members of the bridal party who are prepared for the coming of our Bridegroom? Do our souls thirst for God as today’s psalm says we should? Are we ready to welcome the Lord, whenever He comes?

Or are we one of the “virgins” who act with the foolishness of indifference? The foolish virgins in the parable failed to appreciate the seriousness of the occasion, for if they had they would have brought what was needed. In the spiritual life we too often see this same indifference to God. People only come to Mass on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation when they can conveniently “fit it into their schedule.” There is no quest for the Holy Spirit; whatever faith is present becomes less active. Life continues with God’s concerns put on the “back burner,” until the end is near. However, in truth, we never really know when the end is near.

We must not be indifferent! We must recognize the seriousness of the occasion, the joy of the Kingdom of God. We must be prepared. When we see a person making their way to church on a snowy morning, we see that they have oil in the lamp. When we help a person carry a heavy bag, whether of groceries or of psychological baggage, or we visit a shut-in, bring the Good News to the sick and lonely, it is clear that the bridegroom is expected.

“It is important to stop and think about the consuming interests of our life. Yet there is really nothing more important than our life with God” (The Paulist Liturgy Planning Guide: Year A, edited by Lawrence Boadt, CSP and Celine Allen, p. 252). We should cry out to God with today’s psalmist, “I will remember you upon my couch, and through the nightwatches I will meditate on you.”

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“I am no saint.” I am sure that most of us have heard someone, if not ourselves, utter that line. “I am no saint.” Often we hear this said as an excuse for wrong behavior. “I am no saint.” While it is good to be truthful in acknowledging our sinfulness and areas where we still need the grace of conversion to Christ Jesus, too often this line is almost used as a boast.

By our Baptismal promises we are all called to be saints; to “be holy as God is holy.” To be a saint is to be a “holy one” who leads a life in union with God through the grace of Christ. Today we honor all those members of Christ’s Mystical Body who led such a life of union with God, through the grace of Christ, and have now received the reward of eternal life. While we who continue in this earthly life make up the Church Suffering and the Church Militant, the saints we honor today now stand in the presence of God as part of the Church Triumphant. Yet there is only one Church – Suffering, Militant, and Triumphant – all members of the One Body of Christ Jesus our Lord. The Saints Triumphant are a source of hope for those of us who are members of the Church Suffering and Militant; they are models for guiding us in living a life in union with God, and they strengthen us in times of difficulties through their intercessions.

So now all of you want to be saints. FANTASTIC!! Everyone who hopes to be a saint, that is to stand in the presence of God, needs to make themselves pure as God is pure – that is pure love. Fortunately our good and gracious God has provided us a Map of Life to help us know how to live a life in union with Him through the grace of His Son, namely the Beatitudes, which we heard proclaimed in this evening’s Gospel reading. Most of you know that the word “Beatitude” comes from the word “Blessed” which starts off each of the Beatitudes given us in St. Matthew’s Gospel. There was a time, not too long ago, when the Beatitudes were often rendered, “Happy are those….” This was an unfortunate translation of the Greek word, Makarios, for the Greek word does not have the primary meaning of “happiness” as a subjective experience, as a mere emotion which can change quickly. Rather the Greek word, which is better translated into English as “Blessed,” indicates one’s favorable standing in the grace of God’s covenant. These Covenant blessings are gifts that our Heavenly Father bestows on His children. Thus the eight Beatitudes which we heard this evening proclaim the blessings of the New Covenant, made through the Blood of Jesus, which are introduced on earth and fully realized in heaven.

Much has been written on the Beatitudes and what they teach us about the Christian life, and it would not be possible to discuss them fully in one homily. However I would like to briefly outline one schema for understanding the Beatitudes in the life of the Faithful. It is a schema used by both St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, and it links the Beatitudes to the Gifts of the Holy Spirit. The “poor in spirit” exercise the Fear of the Lord that is a gift of reverence for God that awakens the soul to its weaknesses and promotes a childlike fear of the Father. Those who “mourn” exercise the Gift of Knowledge that imparts a correct estimation of created things and their relative value before God. The “meek” exercise the Gift of Piety, the filial love for God that moves the soul to worship and protects against the hardening of one’s heart in the midst of trials. Those who “hunger and thirst for righteousness” exercise the Gift of Fortitude, the firm resolution to purse holiness despite obstacles. The “merciful” exercise the Gift of Counsel that assists in decision-making, helps guard against rashness in action, and aids us in extending compassion to others. The “clean of heart” exercise the Gift of Understanding that gives us insight into the mysteries of the faith, not merely an intellectual understanding but also the spiritual perceptions of the heart. The “peacemakers” exercise the Gift of Wisdom, the contemplative reflection on and love for divine things so that one is able to assess the world by revealed truths and instills the soul with peace. The eighth Beatitude, regarding those who are “persecuted” summarizes the first seven, and points out that there is no Jesus without the Cross. To live the Christian life, to truly live it, means that there will be persecution, trial, and rejection. Yet we know that the Cross, Good Friday, is not the end of the story; rather it leads to the joy of Easter and the Resurrection. The saints in heaven, whom we honor today, already share the fullness of the kingdom of heaven. Through the witness of their lives and through their prayers of intercession they strength us in this life and give us hope in everlasting life.

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