28 March 2016

Easter Homily

Homily for Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord
27 March 2016

Oh don't you dare look back
Just keep your eyes on me
I said you're holding back
She said shut up and dance with me
This woman is my destiny
She said (Ooo Ooo)
Shut up and dance with me

"Okay," you're probably thinking, "Father Rob has lost it if he's singing Walk the Moon lyrics." Or you may be asking, "What does that song have to do with Easter?" Well, maybe nothing . . . or maybe a lot.

In this night / On this day, the Church is the one calling us to "shut up and dance" with her. She does so because her Bridegroom is risen from the dead, and she wants us to rejoice! In this night / On this day, she beckons us like a lover, seduces us like the sirens of the ancient myths to enter into the complete and total ecstasy and joy of the Glory of the Resurrection.

As the song says, "We were victims of the night . . ." Yes, we were. In the night of darkness of sin, we allowed ourselves to be moved by our desires, our wants, our needs. Yet, as victims of THIS night / LAST night (the Easter Vigil), this is where she tells us to "dare [not] look back" and to "keep [our] eyes on [her]." For if we look back, we can't appreciate the joy of the Risen Lord. Keeping our eyes on her, the Church will always lead us to Christ, just as the Blessed Mother does.

This is the night / day, then, that the Bride takes our arm, leads us to the cosmic dance floor, and rejoices with us in the wedding feast of her and her Risen Bridegroom. Yet, she and the Lord continuously desire for us to fall passionately in love with her. "Deep in her eyes" we can "see the future." Just as we feel it as we gaze deeply into the eyes and Heart of Christ in prayer and adoration - just as we will in a short while at the consecration -, so as we gaze deeply into the beauty of the Church, we can see our future, for, truly, "this woman is [our] destiny."

The Resurrection gives us permission to dance, to rejoice. This is the feast of victory for our God! Our "Alleluia!" becomes the song, the dance, the life, the future that we enter into. As Saint Augustine of Hippo and Saint John Paul II remind us: We are an Easter people, and "Alleluia" is our song.

The Church beckons us, seduces us into the "Alleluia" because it is there that we continuously, passionately, and totally fall in love with our God. She invites us to "shut up and dance" with her because the more we gaze upon her beauty, truth and goodness, the more we stop worrying about the past and enjoy the promises that the Resurrection brings about. The "Alleluia" is the primal call of the Christian; it is the song of consummation of the Church.

This is the night / day, then, when that happy fault, that necessary sin of Adam brings forth for us so great a Redeemer. It is the time when Heaven is wedded to Earth, and we are reconciled to God. This is the night / day when the light of Christ illumines the darkness of the world, and invites us onto the dance floor, knowing that "we were bound together to be together" for Christ and His Church for all time and eternity.

This is the night / day where we need to simple "shut up and dance": Dance with the Bride and Bridegroom, with Christ and His Church in the ecstasy and joy of the Resurrection - that eternal Dance by which you and I share in the promises of Christ through Word and Sacrament. This is the night / day where you and I are seduced into the "Alleluia" - a call, a sigh which is ever ancient and ever new. This is the night / day when we rejoice, for this is the Feast of victory for our God.

Alleluia!     

25 March 2016

Homily for the Service of the Lord's Passion



Homily for the Service of the Lord’s Passion
(Good Friday)
25 March 2016

       Silence: It is needed. It is desired. It is highly anticipated.

There is a great and profound solemnity realized in the silence of death. It’s not eerie; it’s not disturbing. It is present, though, with a sense of anticipation.
        
      Like the Early Church, there is an anticipation of waiting to see what God will do next. Though veiled in the silence, veiled in the grief, the mercy of God helps us to see, to anticipate what the next move of God will be.

        Traditionally, today would be the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord. Here, in the silence of her world, Mary submits herself to the silent anticipation of the will of the Father. This year, however, our celebration of Good Friday supersedes that great celebration. Yet we encounter Mary, once again, submitting herself to the silent anticipation of the will of the Father.

        In the moment of that silence, she doesn’t completely understand.

        Two thousand years later, in the midst of that same silence, we still do not completely understand.

        But we ponder in awe and in anticipation – and in silence - of what God might do next.

        The silence of this day is not eerie; it is not disturbing. It is needed; it is desired. To sit and ponder in the solemnity and solace of the silence of the world this day prepares our hearts to anticipate how God will use the Suffering, Passion and Death of Christ for the salvation of the world. To sit and ponder the solemnity and solace of the silence of this day allows us to enter into the Paschal Mystery.

        It is in that solemnity, it is in that solace, it is in that desire, it is in that anticipation, then, that we can open ourselves to the will of the Father as we say, “We adore You, O Christ, and we praise You. Because by Your Holy Cross, You have redeemed the world.”

Homily for the Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper



Homily for the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper (Holy Thursday)
24 March 2016

       “I want to draw your attention to what Jesus did when He knelt down and He washed the feet of the Apostles. He wasn’t simply teaching a lesson by His words. And He wasn’t just simply teaching a lesson by the washing of the feet. He was teaching a lesson by what was in His Heart. . . . So . . . make sure everything that you do and in every way that you are you demonstrate that you are men of compassion.”

          These words were spoken to the men of the ordination class of 2010 for the Diocese of Pittsburgh – my class. What Bishop Zubik was teaching me and my classmates that, in all times and in all places, we are to model our lives after the example, command and Heart of Jesus Christ.

          Am I always successful in this? By no means . . .

          Yet, the Bishop wasn’t just mentioning this to me, or Father Gillespie or Father Noel. He wasn’t saying what he said so that the other members of the clergy present would overhear. He just didn’t say these thoughts out loud so that those in the Cathedral could overhear a private talk. Rather, the Bishop mentioned this idea to not only explain the priesthood to us, as well as  to remind all present of the connection that the Eucharist has to a life lived in service and in mercy.

          I have to admit that it drives me a little crazy when everyone simply sees this celebration as simply “the Eucharist.” Now, I’m not trying to downplay the importance of the Institution of the Eucharist that we celebrate this day. But if today is only about Jesus giving us a spiritual snack and saying some cryptic words at a random Passover feast, then we’re missing the point. We’re missing the point because this celebration isn’t simply recalling the Institution of the Eucharist or re-enforcing the Institution of the Priesthood that was celebrated earlier today at Saint Paul Cathedral.

          This Triduum – these three days – are lived in the shadow and paradox of the Cross. Today, Jesus not only gives us the spiritual nourishment to carry out the mission of His Church, but He ultimately gives us the example of how we are to live out what we receive.

          On this day, March 24th, in particular, the Church remembers a modern priest who gave of his life to the point of death – Blessed Oscar Romero. As archbishop of San Salvador, Blessed Romero lived during a volatile time in his country’s history. Perhaps some of you have seen the movie Romero, which tells of the struggles – and victories – during his time as archbishop. Ultimately, Romero tried to not only stand with his people, but, also, tried to bring the message of Christ’s unconditional mercy to the people of San Salvador. Truly, he is a witness for our modern times, and truly a man who lived in the shadow and paradox of the Cross. Blessed Oscar Romero was martyred during the celebration of the Mass, giving his life bringing the compassion and mercy of God to the people in the best way possible: the celebration of the Eucharist.

          If we, who celebrate this great Sacrament here tonight, wish to be men and women who witness the compassion and mercy of God to our neighborhood, are we willing to give of our lives in the same way?

          I’m not saying that we need to seek a Mass where we will be martyred for the Faith. However, we need to ask ourselves: Do we take this great Sacrament for granted? Are we willing to be radical witnesses of the Gospel? Are we willing and able to be martyrs, being the face of the compassion and mercy of God in “everything that [we] do and in every way that [we] are”?

          Jesus washed His disciples’ feet not because He was being nice. Jesus washed His followers’ feet because He was showing us, demonstrating for us, modeling for us the humility of the Eucharist. For if the Eucharist is truly the Sacrament rooted in the Heart of God, then we who share in it must humble ourselves to be men and women of compassion. If we are to partake in this great Paschal Mystery, then you and I need to humiliate ourselves in such a way that in everything that we think, speak and do, we become “Merciful Like the Father.”

          As we enter the Mystery of this Paschal Triduum, we do so seeking to mirror what was in the Heart of Jesus when He knelt down before the Apostles and washed their feet. As we enter into these three days of suffering and joy, we seek the compassion and mercy of our God in the Eucharist we celebrate and share. To be “Merciful Like the Father,” to be compassionate like Christ, we find ways to lay down our own lives in the shadow and paradox of the Cross, which brings about for us the ability to be ministers of mercy and evangelizers of the Gospel, and, ultimately, will bring us to the full joy of the Resurrection.