This past Wednesday, I was asked to be a part of a parish's Lenten Speaker Series, in which I would celebrate the Mass and deliver a "longer-than-normal" homily (A "super-homily," as I've been calling it.) based on the previous Sunday's Gospel (of the man born blind), focusing on the theme of "Christ as the Light of the World." It took hours to write, and about twenty minutes to deliver. The people seemed to have liked it. It may take you about fifteen to twenty minutes to read, but I provide it to you for your personal Lenten reflection.
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Homily for the Lenten Speaker Series
Holy Sepulcher Parish, Glade Mills
2 April 2014
I’ve
always loved light.
Seriously,
I have. In fact, it was my first word!
I
would often sit in the classroom, in a room in my parents’ house, on the stage,
or in my church seeing how light illuminated the area around it, yet leaving a
little darkness here or there; how different shadows would appear and disappear
as different lights were turned on or turned off. In fact, I still do this.
I
have always been fascinated with light, shadows and darkness, and how they play
off each other, forming a rich tapestry at times in those ways that we perceive
our world and our lives.
And
this perception is necessary as we endeavor to live our lives of faith. Think
for a moment of the words of our Lord from the Gospel of this past Sunday: While I am in
the world, I am the light of the world. Yet Jesus was not
only talking about His physical presence – He also was reminding us of His
presence given to us by the Holy Spirit, through Word and through Sacrament.
As
we journey through this life – both our physical life and the life of faith –,
it is important for us to be always mindful of how we must live in the Light of
Christ. Remember: Everything that we think, say or do is to be thought, said or
done in the brightness of the glory of our Lord.
The
Light of Christ is to illuminate our lives.
To
paraphrase a quote from Lumen Fidei,
the first encyclical given to us by Pope Francis, we must keep in mind that “the light of
[Christ] is unique, since [He] is capable of illuminating every aspect of human existence” (LF 4). If we
truly believe this, we will draw closer to Christ. And the closer that we draw
to Christ, the fuller our hearts begin to glow with the fire of His Love. If we
truly believe this, then the darkness of our hearts and of our lives will be
dispelled; those dark secrets of our lives healed by the warmth of the Light.
I
believe that it was Saint Francis of Assisi who once said, “All the
darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.” We know from our experience in this life of
how the smallest essence of illumination can assist us. Even in the darkest of
nights, even in the bleakest of situations, the smallest glow of light can lead
us to safety, can ensure peace of mind, and can heal the terrors that afflict
us.
However,
my brothers and sisters, there’s an irony about humanity: We reject the light
and embrace the darkness. Even that smallest essence of light can be blinding
to us when we spend enough time living in the darkness. And our society, so it
seems, enjoys living in the darkness. Or so they believe. Our brothers and
sisters may not enjoy living in the darkness, but they have become accustomed
to living in the darkness. They forget the words of Jesus: While I am in
the world, I am the light of the world.
Yet as part of that
society, we, too, embrace the darkness from time to time. We forget the words
of Jesus. In our selfishness and our arrogance, we allow the allure of the
darkness to twist the very fibers of our being; in our self-centeredness and
our pride, we distort the love and light which have been given to us by grace,
so that we emphatically imprison the good of and for the other through
permitting ourselves to become overshadowed by the darkness.
Once again, our
Holy Father reminds us: “Yet in the absence of light everything becomes confused;
it is impossible to tell good from evil, or the road to our destination from
other roads which take us in endless circles, going nowhere”
(LF 3). The longer we persist to remain in the darkness, the easier it becomes
to stay on the downward spiral, travelling further and deeper into the darkness
of confusion. In many ways, this seems to be the reality of the path of our
society in the here and now, and in many ways, they want to take us along with
them.
This is the
difficulty, living in our society today, for we are people heavily influenced
by the attitudes and actions of those around us. I, myself, notice that
constantly about myself. I cannot be a part of our society, I cannot interact
with our society without becoming influenced by our society. Yes, there are
moments in which I am overcome by the quiet call of temptation to do this or
say that. I would be lying to you if I were to say that I am never tempted. In
these moments, I forget those important words of Christ: While I am in
the world, I am the light of the world, and I become
confused, allowing my path to be one of going around in circles, “going
nowhere,” and becoming more and more frustrated in the choices that I make.
Blessed Teresa of
Calcutta once said, “Words which do not give the light of Christ increase the
darkness.” I believe that we can substitute the word
“words” here with “thoughts” and “actions”, for it is through our thoughts,
words and actions in which we either produce light or succumb to the darkness.
My own thoughts, words, and actions either make known the light and love of our
Savior or they simply promote my own agenda.
Your thoughts,
words, and actions either make known the light and love of Jesus Christ or they
simply promote your agenda.
“Each of us comes to the light because
of love, and each of us is called to love in order to remain in the light”
(LF 32). If we truly believe that Jesus Christ is present in this world, that
His presence abides with us through the Church, through Word and Sacrament,
through the workings of the Holy Spirit, then we will have no problem
recognizing the Light of Christ guiding our life’s journey.
Think for a moment,
if you will, of the actions that commence the Great Vigil of Easter. We begin
with the Lucernarium, the Blessing of
the Fire and Paschal Candle. Think about how when we stand outside around the
fire to be blessed we are drawn to that fire like a moth to its flames. It attracts
us; it excites us. There is a beauty in that fire; there is a siren’s call in
the light. The love that we have for our God entices us in that moment to
symbolically witness the victory of the Light over the darkness. We come to the
light because Love, Himself, beckons us; we love our God and neighbor, however,
because of the Light which guides our journey.
We then enter into
the church. The deacon or priest proclaims, “Christ our Light!”, and the people
respond “Thanks be to God!” Despite the darkness that surrounds us, those words
of Saint Francis of Assisi ring true: “All the darkness in the world cannot
extinguish the light of a single candle.” We
are entranced by the dance of the flame; we are lured to the glow of the flame,
almost blinding us when we look at it directly. Then, slowly, one-by-one, each
person lights their candle from the flame of the Paschal Candle, “a fire into
many flames divided, yet never dimmed by sharing of its light,” while the inside
of the church becomes aglow with the Light of Christ, calling to mind once
again those words that Jesus spoke: While I am in the world, I am the
light of the world.
The making known of
the presence of Christ as the Light of the world culminates in the Easter
Proclamation, the Exultet. Here, the victory
song is sung of the Light over the power of darkness. Here, we recognize that
the Light was never truly extinguished, just diminished enough to allow the
darkness to believe that it won. We identify that this is the
night that with a pillar of fire banished the darkness of sin.
We acclaim that this candle, this light which glowing fire ignites for God’s
honor, a fire into many flames divided, yet never dimmed by sharing of its
light, for it is fed by melting wax, drawn out by mother bees to build a torch
so precious. We pray that this candle, hallowed to the
honor of [God’s] name, may persevere undimmed, to overcome the darkness of this
night. The climax of this ultimate victory chant of
the Body of Christ comes at the end, when we entreat the Lord: May this flame
be found still burning by the Morning Star: the one Morning Star who never
sets, Christ your Son, who coming back from death’s domain has shed his
peaceful light on humanity, and lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.
Saint John
reminds us in the Prologue of his Gospel: What came to be through
him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the
light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
(John 1:3-5) And this is why we celebrate this great and joyful season of Lent:
To recognize and acknowledge the shadows that we cast in our lives and in the
lives of others, and to become diligent in our submission to the Light, so that
He might obliterate the shadows that we cast and the shadows cast by the Devil
through temptation and sin. We celebrate Lent to not beat ourselves down
because of the darkness in our lives, but simply to confess it, and to admit
that the Light of Christ is brighter than the darkest parts of us.
We live
through the frustrations of Lent because we know of the glorious results of
Easter.
We battle
each day the movements of the forces of darkness because we know that the Light
has already won the war.
Remember
what I said at the beginning of this homily: The Light of Christ is to
illuminate our lives. However, it is one thing to say this; it is another to
believe this.
AS
CHRISTIANS, WE MUST BELIEVE THAT JESUS CHRIST IS THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.
Pope Francis
reminds us: “Those who believe, see; they see with a light which illumines
their entire journey, for it comes from the risen Christ, the morning star
which never sets” (LF 1). Our belief in the promise of Christ
that He IS the Light of the world must arise from our experiences with Him as
He guides us along the path of life and of faith to the fullness of the
Kingdom. He knows that we may allow the darkness to overwhelm our light through
our temptations and our sinful ways, but believing that Jesus Christ will
fulfill His promise to light our way, we stop, find our bearings, and then
proceed, once again, to journey with the Light guiding our way.
The more we
believe that Christ is our Light, the more we will be able to see with the
light of faith. “Faith is not a light which scatters all our darkness, but a
lamp which guides our steps in the night and suffices for the journey”
(LF 57). Christ, Himself, is that Light who scatters all the darkness; faith is
the torch, the instrument He gives to us to navigate the darkness of the here
and now as we journey to the brightness of eternity.
Nevertheless, for
our torch of faith to remain lit to guide our way, we must constantly recognize
that First Light found in Jesus Christ. We must always remember His words: While I am in
the world, I am the light of the world.
If we
believe the words of Jesus Christ, that He is the Light of the world, and if we
believe the words of Pope Francis, that “[Jesus Christ] is capable of
illuminating every aspect of human
existence,” how, then, are we to practice this
recognition of Christ as the Light of the world in our lives? I would like to
propose five spiritual stages we encounter along our journey: We believe; we
come; we become; we shine; and we run.
We Believe: Turning once again to that holy man
of Assisi, Saint Francis reminds us: “A single sunbeam is enough to drive
away many shadows.” We believe this to be true in the
physical world because we have experienced it. Now we are called to believe
this in our life of faith; we are called to experience this in hearing the Word
of God, being attracted by the Word, and believing that what the Word speaks is
true. Even if a single phrase spoken by Christ is capable of illuminating any
portion of our hearts, then we must believe that the Light has the power to
overcome the darkest or largest of our shadows.
We Come: “ . . . We are invited to open
ourselves to the light of Christ to bear fruit in our lives . . .”
Pope Francis spoke these words this past Sunday (30 March 2014) in regards to
the Gospel of the man born blind. The invitation is for us to come to Christ,
to come towards the Light, so that we may learn what it is to be light-bearers
in this world. We accept that invitation of Jesus to “come and see”
(John 1:39). We come because He extends the invitation; we see because He
illuminates the entirety of life. We
come because we accept the invitation to not only encounter the Light, but to
learn to live in the Light. And we must learn to live in the Light before we
are sent to bear the Light in the world.
We Become: We become by learning. We become by
living. Remember the words Saint Paul wrote to the Ephesians that we heard this
past Sunday: You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live
as children of light, for light produces every kind of goodness and
righteousness and truth. (Ephesians 5:8-9) How important it is
for us become light for the world. We are not simply to live in the Light, but we
are ultimately called to become the
light. We are called to not only reflect the Light of Christ to those we meet,
but, rather, to become lights from the Light. Think back to our actions at the
Great Vigil of Easter: Sharing the flame of the Paschal Candle throughout the
church, “a fire into many flames divided, yet never dimmed by sharing of
its light” – becoming not just light-bearers nor simply
reflections of the Light, but individual sharers in and of the Light, each
assigned with his or her own mission.
We Shine: As we learn to become sharers in and
of the Light, we also learn how to shine that light that has been given to us.
We learn what it is to open our lives in shining the Light of Christ in this
world. Remember, Jesus said: While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.
This shining, then, is one of the revelations of His presence in the world.
Blessed and soon-to-be-Saint John Paul II instructs us: “Allow the
light and healing presence of Christ to shine brightly through your lives. In
that way, all those who come in contact with you will discover the loving
kindness of God.” Our lives, therefore, become beacons of
light, guiding and pointing others not to who we are, but, rather, beacons of light guiding and pointing others
to the fullness of life and light in Jesus Christ. We shine in our own lives so
that others may be, in due course, attracted to the Light, Himself.
We Run: “Run with the light of Christ,”
Saint Benedict reminds us in his Rule.
We run because light moves; it is never stationary. Just as Christ our Light moves
throughout the world, illuminating the depths and darkness of the hearts of all
humanity, so, too, must we move throughout the world helping others to know the
mercy, compassion and joy of our God. We run because we have encountered
Christ, we have learned to live in the Light, and we want that Light to shine
in every corner of our lives and the lives of all whose paths we cross.
Pope-Emeritus Benedict XVI gives us the following: “Each of you
have a personal vocation which [Christ] has given you for your own joy and
sanctity. When a person is conquered by the fire of His gaze, no sacrifice
seems too great to follow Him and give Him the best of ourselves. This is what
the saints have always done, spreading the light of the Lord . . . and
transforming the world into a welcoming home for everyone.”
Our vocation, the vocation of every Christian, is to “run with the
light of Christ” so that the world en masse may be “conquered by the fire of His gaze,”
drawing all people to Himself, as a moth is drawn to the flame. The more that
we run in announcing the Gospel of the Lord, the more we open others up to
being enlightened by brightness of the Lord’s glory – a glory which may be
blinding at first, but a glory which calls us to abandon ourselves for the life
that Christ has called us to – a life revealed living in reckless abandon in
the guidance of the Light.
The darkness
in the world does not want us to believe; it wants us to doubt and deny. The
darkness shuns the invitation to come to the Light, choosing to flee and go in
the opposite direction. The darkness of the world would prefer us not to become
part of the Light; it wishes that we would choose popular opinion over the
Light of truth. The darkness abhors the shining of our lives, revealing the
presence of the Light in the world; it would prefer to place us under the
bushel basket or, better yet, snuff us out completely. The darkness wants to
see us run, not with or for the Light, but to the life of selfish confusion it
has to offer, for the more time we run into the darkness, the easier it is for
us to become stationary, and we lose the fervor of spreading the Light to
others.
My brothers
and sisters, we who sit in this church this evening know and believe that
Christ is the Light of the world. We do not need any type of coaxing to know
this. We have encountered Him through the Church, through Word and Sacrament,
and we have come to acknowledge Him as the One who guides us along the journey
of our lives. We know that He is present in the world, for our encounters with
Him are frequent and, hopefully, joyful in the Holy Spirit. Our prayer is a
constant one: to be guided by the Light through this life to the next. Yet, our
mission is constant, too: to make the Light known through our thoughts, words,
and actions – essentially, through our very lives. And so it is through our
lives – through our believing, coming, becoming, shining and running – that we
watch the weaving of the tapestry of the Light overcoming the movements of the
shadows and darkness.
For it is
through that tapestry’s weaving that the victorious Light of the world
illuminates our lives.
I would like
to close with a poem-prayer by the great English theologian, Blessed John Henry
Newman. It is a wonderful prayer, helping us place our trust in the Light as we
travel the journey of faith.
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LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling
gloom
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Lead Thou me on!
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The night is dark, and I am far from home—
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Lead Thou me on!
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Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
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The distant scene—one step enough for me.
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I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou
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Shouldst lead me on.
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I loved to choose and see my path, but now
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Lead Thou me on!
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I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
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Pride ruled my will: remember not past
years.
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So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
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Will lead me on,
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O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent,
till
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The night is gone;
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And with the morn those angel faces smile
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Which I have loved long since, and lost
awhile.
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Enjoy the journey . . .
