They proclaimed:
—Blessed is the king who comes
in the name of the Lord.
Peace in heaven
and glory in the highest.—

If you look at certain depictions of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem you will notice that he’s traveling downhill, into the city, seated on an ass. People are throwing their cloaks and palm branches before him.

Behind Jesus come the Apostles and disciples, the women, the followers. Before Him are the crowds of Jerusalem, waiting to greet the latest and the greatest. Among them are the skeptics.

Jesus is rushing, downhill, headlong to His death. It is a crazy and tumultuous time.

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him,
—Teacher, rebuke your disciples.—
He said in reply,
—I tell you, if they keep silent,
the stones will cry out!—

I wonder, in the midst of this tumult, in the excited crowd, if anyone truly meant what they said. Again:

—Blessed is the king who comes
in the name of the Lord.
Peace in heaven
and glory in the highest.—

Did anyone mean that? Did anyone truly desire that? Did the citizens, the Apostles, the disciples, the women?

What if they said what they meant: —Death to the Romans, power and glory to us.—

Well, I imagine, the crowd would have been put to death in short order, Jesus among them. The Romans would have come out of garrison and would have put an end to their desires.

Isn’t that what plagues us today? So many cry out Jesus, Jesus, here comes the King. But what are they saying? Hail my political power? Hail my money making ability? Hail what I’ve created? Glory and honor to me?

I would like for us to reflect upon the stones who, in the absence of the peoples’ shouts, would cry out.

I think that if we reflect a little we will understand that the stones would be honest. They would hail Jesus Christ for who He is. They would have no expectations, no desires, no needs, other than to hail Him as their King, the center of all that was, is, or will ever be.

That, my brothers and sisters, is a very difficult thing for us to do. It requires that we fashion ourselves into the likeness of Jesus.

He emptied Himself,
taking the form of a slave

He humbled Himself,
becoming obedient to the point of death

To approach Jesus in truth we need to be empty and humble. If we approach Jesus as an empty vessel He will certainly fill us. He can and will put more into us than we can possibly hope for.

Whether we are filled with terrible pride, greed, or lust, whether we are pushed down by poverty, sickness, or loneliness, He can and will fill us; if we can, but for a moment, set aside our agendas, needs, desires, and demands.

If we come to Him, empty like the stones surrounding Jerusalem, we will be filled.

Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem was downhill and headlong. It couldn’t be any other way. He was one with His Father’s will.

Our journey to the new and everlasting Jerusalem is uphill, rocky, and difficult. The road is narrow and filled with pitfalls. We mask our desires and hide them beneath a cloak of praise for a king. To make it we need to continually ask ourselves, is Jesus, as He is, the King?

When we meet Him in humility, when we come empty, when we acknowledge Him as He is, then we will know that we have met our true King, our only desire. When we meet Him we will know. For His love will fill us without measure. As it did on Good Friday.

For his sake I have accepted the loss of all things
and I consider them so much rubbish

Taken from the Letter of St. Paul to the Philippians, Chapter 3, Verse 8

I have nothing, yet I have hope.

That is an important message for the days ahead. We enter into the Passiontide today. We plainly see the church outfitted in mournful, sorrowful array. Yet we have hope.

It is not that I have already taken hold of it
or have already attained perfect maturity,
but I continue my pursuit in hope that I may possess it

The thread that runs through today’s reading and gospel is one of hope. Hope that God is acting in our lives. Hope that we may be one in Him, possessing all things in Him.

In our first reading God asks us :

Remember not the events of the past,
the things of long ago consider not;
see, I am doing something new!

If we live in the past we have no hope for God’s continuing action in our life. This reminds us that Jesus is far more than just a moment in time. He is here and now. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the entirely of the past and the fullness of the future.

God is always active and alive, doing something new in our lives. That new thing is the transformation that occurs in us. We are changed by the hope that we have. We are Christians and that makes us people of hope.

If we lived in the past and mourned our present, there would be no reason to go on. But we have Jesus Christ ever with us; God making everything new. Recall these words from the Book of Revelation:

I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them (as their God). He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, (for) the old order has passed away.” The one who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.”

God is not distant or far off. He is right here, right here inside each and every one of us.

Have any of you seen the billboards around the area. They picture Jesus and in English and Hebrew say— —If you call Him He will come. — We should remember that when we’re found lacking in hope.

When we miss the fact that God is with us. All we need do is call Him. He is active and engaged, past, present, and future.

Paul reminds us that there is nothing we can offer, nothing we can do by our own merit, to attain Jesus Christ.

It is only by Christ that we have hope. We are, each one of us, helpless children. All we can do is call out, in faith, Jesus come to me.

Brothers and sisters,

Do you think that the woman caught in adultery had any hope?

She caught a break for a few minutes, and I’m sure she was aware of it. They didn’t stone her on the spot, which should have happened. She caught a break so she could be used as bait in the Pharisees trap.

I’m also sure that she was aware of the fact that they weren’t going to let her go once they were done. Having been used, perhaps all her life, she would be used one more time, then be permanently disposed of.

Her hope was running out, the break was almost over, there she was before Jesus and the stones were ready to fly.

Everyone always wonders what Jesus wrote on the ground. Frankly, He may just as well have drawn a picture of a cow. He was ignoring the Pharisees.

Brethren,

We all know how sin is. The longer we get to stew in our sin, the longer that sin gets to eat at us.

Jesus let the Pharisees and the woman stew —“ and in the end He gave them the opportunity to repent. Only the woman stayed and He gave her hope, forgiveness of sin, and new life. She was ready, the Pharisees walked away, aware of their sinfulness. That’s the shocking part of the whole exchange. They were aware of their sin yet held no hope for forgiveness. In sin they walked away from God.

It’s time. It is time to stop stewing in our sin like the Pharisees; time to stand before Jesus, like the woman, like a small child, filled with faith and hope. It is time to stand before the Lord with trust in Him. If we do that He will make us new. He will not condemn us; He will not cast us out.

That is the gospel, the message of hope. I know I have nothing, yet I hope for everything, that is eternal life in Christ Jesus.

The following is a reflection I will be offering for the World Day of Prayer which we are hosting in our parish on Friday, March 23rd at 7pm.

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.

Taken from the Letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians, Chapter 4, Verse 15

Today we gather around Jesus Christ, and we come to Him in the form of the ñandutí­, (niun-doo-tee) offered to us by the women of Paraguay.

If you look at the cover of your booklets you will see the ñandutí­, an intricate lace weave, with a proper center surrounded by symmetrical, yet differing, patterns.

I could spend a good few minutes up here pointing out the obvious. Jesus is the center of our lives. We are all different, unique. We are to be like Jesus, different in our gifts, yet symmetrical with him.

I might also focus on the long history of the people of Paraguay; the history of the Guarani, the land’s original inhabitants, whose native language is one of the few to be officially recognized, and widely used in South America. I could talk about historical suffering, the role of women in a society that lost seventy-five percent of its men to wars and brutal dictators. I could focus on poverty, and our lack of a giving response, at the political and personal level.

Rather, I will focus on minutia.

You’re probably thinking, oh no, as a Catholic, minutia is something he’s well versed in.

Charles Dickens is reported to have said:

My view was that the minutiae of faith was unimportant, if the heart be in the right place. Love, charity and duty are the core of my religious life.

But today we have the ñandutí­ and the ñandutí­ is about minutia.

In our first reading we heard of Abraham and Sarah preparing a good many things for the Lord. Water to wash their guest’s feet, cakes to eat, meat from a slaughtered calf, curds and milk, and the whole aspect of presenting their hospitality before the Lord.

That, my friends, is minutia. That’s not something that’s easy to throw together. Oh honey, prepare a five course meal and make the guests comfortable. It may have taken the whole day.

We see a brief snapshot of what happened from a mile high. Consider what it took to bring it all together.

So it is with the ñandutí­. You have to prepare a place to house it, a frame and an underlayment to hold it, the thread, the tools, and the time.

Sewing the ñandutí­ together is a process. Weaving the ñandutí­ is all about minutia.

So it is in our lives. It’s the minutia of how we respond when our spouse comes home in a foul mood. It’s the way we respond when we are partnered with someone who is as affectionate as a rock. It’s how we respond to the toilet cleaning, clothes washing, vacuuming, grass cutting, snow blowing chores. It’s how we respond when we come to church and one half of the church has daggers out for the other half, and all have daggers out for the pastor. It’s how we respond on Easter morning when the kids want gifts, we want to get to church, and we have to go visit uncle Bob who will regale us with stories of his first ever plane flight during World War 2.

Each and every moment is filled with minutia. We cannot escape it, medicate it, or drown it. While we’re waiting for the next big splash, the next excitement, we must use the minutia to do as St. Paul teaches: —grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.—

In a few moments the trustees will come around and pass the basket. More minutia. We’ll pull out our wallets and look at what we might find there.

I have some receipts, I forgot to turn in the bottle return vouchers at Price Chopper, credit cards, medical cards, license, registration, Polish club membership, oh, and $30. 30 iTunes downloads, a bunch of java at Starbucks, five Lenten fish fries. How will I respond with this minutia. How will I take the minutia of my wants, desires, hopes, dreams, and fantasies and transform them into action in accord with Christ.

Dickens was wrong. The minutiae of faith is important. In it we meet Christ crucified and risen. We meet Him and are changed at the core level. What is separate is sewn together, what is discordant is made symmetrical. What is broken is made whole. What is small in our lives, the individual threads, are woven into the beautiful and perfect.

Come Lord Jesus, bind us together. Bind us under the mantle of your love.

God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ,
not counting their trespasses against them
and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.

Today we run back to the Father. The Holy Church, through the ministry entrusted to it, and its sacramental action reconciles us to the Father and each other.

It’s interesting to reflect on those words from the Second Letter of St. Paul to the Corinthians, Chapter 5, Verse 19. Paul is telling us that God’s action was continuous. Not something done in a moment, but on-going. God was reconciling us, He was not counting trespasses, and this action is accomplished through His Son and continues through us, His Church.

In our extended sacrament of penance we come back, and like the son say:

‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you;
I no longer deserve to be called your son.’

We often expect the worst. In today’s lingo the son would probably say that his father was going to put some smack-down on him. Even so, the son was willing to accept that. Hey, could it be worse than where he was?

I’ve often wondered what the father was like, I mean before the reconciliation. Was the father tough? Was the father demanding? Was he cruel? Did the reconciliation and the look on his son’s face bring out his mercy?

Frankly, I think the father was none of that. The father did not question the son’s intent when he came with his demands —“

‘Father give me the share of your estate that should come to me.’

The father certainly had his expectations, but in all things the father was consistent. He did not count trespasses and he was reconciling. Jesus gives us that father based on the Father He knew – God. And, as Paul pointed out, God the Father’s action is continuous and consistent. He is merciful and forgiving.

So the prodigal son hears, and so we hear the same words God the Father declared to Israel:

—Today I have removed the reproach … from you.—

Brethren,

In penance we grab onto the hope that is ours in Jesus Christ, forgiveness and eternal life. We need that now as we enter the dark days ahead.

Like that last kiss and hug, exchanged between loved ones leaving in the morning, the kiss and hug that give hope and joy no matter what comes that day, we need God’s forgiveness to pull us out of our troubles and frustration, to give us hope and joy. We need God’s forgiveness even more as we contemplate the coming passion of our Lord Jesus.

The forgiveness we receive from the Father, and the peace we share with one another, prepares us for the dark days ahead.

Next week we enter the Passiontide. The two weeks before Easter. Next week the visuals of the Holy Church will be covered in purple. There will be nothing to draw our eye, other than the mystery of Christ and His love for us. It will be for all intents and purposes you, me, and Christ crucified, alone together.

So as we go forth, accept the embrace of the Father. Listen to Him as He talks about you. He’s telling the rest of us:

‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him;
put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.
Take the fattened calf and slaughter it.
Then let us celebrate with a feast,
because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again;
he was lost, and has been found.’

That, my friends, is our hope.

That is the Father who does not count trespasses and continuously reconciles us in His Son.

Abram put his faith in the LORD,
who credited it to him as an act of righteousness.

Unfortunately, the world does not view Abram in the same way. Abram’s faith, Abram’s commitment to live in accord with God’s promise is seen as foolishness. The world credits Abram with an act of foolishness.

Well, Abram had more than just a promise; Abram had God’s contract.

In Abram’s time people didn’t enter into contracts like we do. No one got a lawyer, drew up papers, got an insurance rider, and signed-off in front of a notary. Paper, or papyrus at the time, was for the Pharaoh, not a wandering shepherd from Ur of Chaldeans.

To make a contract people performed a sacrifice. They took an animal, slaughtered it, cut it in two, laid the two halves across from each other, and walked between the two halves.

Listen to what Abram did at God’s command:

Abram brought him all these, split them in two,
and placed each half opposite the other;

Then something amazing happened.

When the sun had set and it was dark,
there appeared a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch,
which passed between those pieces.

So we have all that is necessary for a contract. What’s missing?

In case you missed it, only God passed through the halves of the slaughtered animals. He passed through them as —a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch.— God made a contract, not with Abram, but with Himself. He promised, by His very self, to fulfill His pledge to Abram.

It was on that occasion that the LORD made a covenant with Abram

So Abram had proof in the form of a contract.

We come to this church each week in faith. Because of our faith God credits us with righteousness. But we too have more than faith. We have a new covenant with God, sealed in the blood of His Son on the cross. God sealed the new covenant in His own blood. He swore again, by Himself, this time to save us. He gave us more than the land “from the Wadi of Egypt to the Great River, the Euphrates.” He gave us eternal life.

Besides this new contract with God we have the witness of the Church, starting with the Apostles and disciples. They proclaimed the truth of these events, and sealed them in the blood of martyrdom.

Brethren,

Tonight, Hollywood will attempt to credit our faith as foolishness. Hollywood will drag out the bones of Jesus, son of Joseph, along with Mary.

They will drop their tombs on a table, dramatize their findings, analyze and dissect their bones, test the dust from their tombs, and make awe inspiring pronouncements.

Faith is foolish. The resurrection is a sham.

St. Paul reminds us:

The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

Brothers and sisters,

I’m not going to waste your time or mine in debating this show, the publicity stunt that’s about to occur. What I want to point out is this:

I feel sorry for Jesus, son of Joseph, Joseph, Mary, the other Mary, Matthew, and the others whose tombs are being trafficked like cheap drugs.

That, my friends, is the real sin, the true outrage.

As Christians, as people whose faith tells us that all will rise again, as people who are blessed because Jesus said:

—Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

…we have an obligation to be outraged at what is being done.

Faith and the Church’s witness tell us that our mortal bodies will rise again. Therefore, the desecration of any person’s remains, whether it be for archeology or for profit, as in the present case, is a sin.

The Catholic faith and the Jewish faith both consider the burial of the dead to be an obligation. The faithful are to treat the remains of the deceased with proper dignity and accord. This is essential, because the wholeness of the person, their entirety, will stand before God on the last day. The body is not just a shell or a husk, something to be tossed in the dumpster when we’re done with it, it is the temple in which the soul lived, and will live again.

Those bodies will rise again, called to glory in the heavenly kingdom. Therefore, Jesus, son of Joseph and the approximately thirty-five others buried there deserve our respect. They deserve dignity. They deserve better than Hollywood.

Of course, if a person has no faith, if a person simply thinks that at death existence stops, none of this matters. But to Christians who proclaim the resurrection, this matters a great deal. To us, we simply listen to the Father in faith and we believe in accord with St. Paul who tells us:

our citizenship is in heaven,
and from it we also await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.
He will change our lowly body
to conform with his glorified body

—It is written, One does not live on bread alone.—

It’s always something about food isn’t it? God seems to like to use food as symbol and metaphor. He’s even gone so far as to use food as the means of conveying Himself to us.

In reading over the scriptures for this Sunday I couldn’t help but focus on food.

As many of you know, I am the cook in my family. I love cooking for my family and for relatives and friends.

The whole concept of cooking is multi-faceted. It’s the joining together of tastes, textures, and atmosphere into something that delights the senses, awakens memories, and ingrains new memories.

Cooking has become one of the trendiest activities out there. We have a television network dedicated to food with Iron Chefs, mega-chefs, CIA chefs, and down-home chefs. We have celebrities like the ubiquitous Emeril, BAM!, Nigella, and local celeb, Rachel Ray. I still remember the days of the Galloping Gourmet.

Moses stressed the importance of food —“ as a gift to God —“ long before there were Iron Chefs:

Moses spoke to the people, saying:
—The priest shall receive the basket from you
and shall set it in front of the altar of the LORD, your God.

Not any food of course, but the firstfruits of a person’s labor were for God. The people were to say:

Therefore, I have now brought you the firstfruits
of the products of the soil
which you, O LORD, have given me.

They were to give from the top, the best stuff to be burned-up as an offering to God. The best is for God, because God provides all.

In his second epistle St. Clements says:

What return, then, shall we make to Him, or what fruit that shall be worthy of that which He has given to us? For, indeed, how great are the benefits which we owe to Him! He has graciously given us light; as a Father, He has called us sons; He has saved us when we were ready to perish. What praise, then, shall we give to Him, or what return shall we make for the things which we have received?

Cooking is very much like our Lenten journey.

The process of cooking starts with thought and preparation. Cooking challenges a person on many levels, combining timing, temperature, mixing, and artistry.

I looked at a particular incident that happened in the course of cooking this week, and this happens to me a lot. I want to talk about, and I want you to think about spillage —“ that’s right, spilling things.

Have you ever tried to transfer things from one container to another? Perhaps you’re combining flour or sugar into one canister. For my part I can never seem to pour the ingredients safely from one canister into another. Some always goes over the edge and spills out.

This week I would like you to consider how God spills His gifts out before us. Malachi 3:10 is very famous and is very pertinent:

—Bring your whole tithes to the storehouse.
And trust me in this. I will pour out such a blessing upon you
Your storehouses will not be able to contain it.—

What we bring to God during Lent is ourselves, and if we are sincere and humble enough we bring the firstfruits of our lives before God during Lent. We bring God our all and everything, and we lay it before Him as a sacrifice. We literally empty ourselves out, and like an empty canister, God will fill us, fill us to overflowing.

God’s love and grace will fill us to the point of overflow.

That overflow will be evident in our actions towards and with each other. That person next to you and me, our spouse, our friends, our children, our buddy at bingo or at the club will be affected by God’s outpouring. Our enemies, those right here in the Capital District who hate our Church, will be won over.

In Malachi God challenges us to trust Him. He literally says:

And trust me in this.

Test Me, Check Me out, put Me to the test. If we bring our all, our tithe, our firstfruits into the storehouse of God, if we place our lives in God’s hands, He will pour out such a blessing upon us that our storehouses will not be able to contain it.

We will be changed, and because of the change in us, the world will be changed, one person at a time.

This is what we are to believe, ponder, and live. That by our acceptance of God in faith, by our Lenten humility and penance, by our heartfelt commitment to emptying ourselves out, we will be changed, and as Paul says:

For one believes with the heart and so is justified,
and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved.

Even now, says the LORD,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the LORD, your God.
For gracious and merciful is he,
slow to anger, rich in kindness,
and relenting in punishment.

Who or what is God? How do we define Him? How do we get our minds around a being who is not a being, a power that is not power, a magnificence that is not magnificence.

What I mean is this, how can mere words explain something that is completely foreign and other to us.

Theologians have tried to explain and define God. They have tackled the problems of God —“ putting God on the analyst’s couch. If you were to delve into theologian’s explanations for God you would be just as confounded as if you were to delve into theoretical mathematics.

The point is that God can only be approached through faith. Study is important, but it will not answer the essential questions of: Who is God and who am I in relation to Him?

What we can know of God is in His self revelation, through scripture, through the revelation of His Son, and through His legacy —“ the Holy Church.

gracious and merciful is he,
slow to anger, rich in kindness,
and relenting in punishment.

John makes it even simpler:

God is love.

That is what we must preach.

Brothers and sisters,

Tonight we enter into Lent. We enter into a special time, a time of travel into the depths of our own lives, a time of reflection, and a time to pass through the curtain —“ deep into the mystery of God.

We cannot enter into this mystery through analysis, of God, or of ourselves, but only through total commitment in love.

That commitment means making love our own, making the cross our own.

Bishop Hodur quoted from The Realm of God, a book by L.E. Bennet, in a speech he gave:

The Kingdom of God comes not with observation; it does not promise to renew the earth in a day; silently but deeply it enters the souls of men; in a still moment when all the world is hushed, in a quiet atmosphere of a church, in the devoted life of the confessors of the religion of Christ

Passing into the mystery of God is passing into the mystery of true and pure love, love that gives us the life we have always desired, but cannot reach on our own. It is the silent and deep entry of God into us because He desires it and because we accept and allow it. We become enveloped in the mystery of love which drives out all else, perfecting our lives.

What does this love drive out?

It drives out hopelessness because:

Brothers and sisters:
We are ambassadors for Christ

We bear Christ to the world by our accepted name —“ Christian – and through that name we drive out hopelessness.

It drives out darkness because we see the only light that matters.

Do financial problems, marital problems, business problems, or interpersonal squabbles matter? Do personal opinions as to who should do this and who should do that count for anything? Does our rendering of judgment on others make one iota of difference in getting us deeper into the mystery of God?

No, because all else is driven out by love.

Take the ashes you are to receive and ponder them. Does anything else matter if we are joined in love to Christ —“ and His body among whom we sit. All that matters is that we act together in accord, in love, not counting the cost, not counting the sacrifice.

And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.
And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you.

Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings,
who seeks his strength in flesh,
whose heart turns away from the LORD.

Blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD,
whose hope is the LORD.
He is like a tree planted beside the waters

This Sunday is a Sunday of contrasts. Throughout the readings, psalm, and Gospel the contrasts between those who walk with the Lord and those who walk apart are made very clear.

Blessed are you who are this. Woe to you who are that.

God knows what He’s doing. He created us and fully understands that we are faced with a life full of contrasts, contrasts that range from days of warmth, not too long ago, to blizzards. We are faced with a life of choices, choices in our marriages, our jobs, our families, our ministry, and our personal moments.

The prophets, speaking for God, and Jesus —“ God Himself —“ tell us that all the choices, all the contrasts lead either to a walk with God, or a walk alone.

While the choice to follow Jesus ultimately falls to us, we must also remember Jesus’ words:

You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit.

In other words, Jesus has called us and chosen us. For our part we are called to believe and believe in full. We must have faith in full, otherwise that faith, the very time we spend here is, as Paul says, in vain.

Our part in the choice is clear, and the Church is here to help us in our choosing. The Church is here, not for the purpose of condemnation, but for the purpose of light, light that will move us from the act of choosing and cooperating to the full realization of God’s kingdom.

Bishop Hodur, who we honor this week on the 54th anniversary of his entry onto eternal life, understood that we have to make those choices.

Bishop Hodur’s faith, learning, and experiences brought him to the realization that the Catholic Church must proclaim not only the choice, but the fact that choice for God is compelling. He wanted us to understand that that compelling choice leads to a life that is fuller, richer, and more joyful. Because of our choosing and cooperation our work is better, our athletic abilities are enhanced, our marriages are stronger, and our communities are improved. Every aspect of life is touched by our choosing.

Bishop Hodur desired that the Catholic Church be known as what it is, namely the Church of ultimate hope and joy; the Catholic Church which proclaims the fact that man is regenerated in Christ Jesus. He understood the Catholic Church as the one that proclaims God’s light, and the positive affect sharing in God’s life has in our world.

For us this means that the Church we follow does not preach hellfire, but rather our need to cooperate in our salvation. The Church we follow does not put an end to God’s grace at death, but proclaims that God’s love, grace, and mercy are eternal. The Church we follow tells us to come to communion from where we are, so that by God’s grace we may be changed.

Do not stand apart. Choose to join with us, and do what Jesus asked:

Rejoice and leap for joy on that day!
Behold, your reward will be great in heaven.

The Church we follow tells us that we must not be dismal and sad, looking like sin has won. We must come in joy, knowing that our choice for Jesus has won us eternal life. It has won us a likeness to Jesus of Whom Paul says:

Christ has been raised from the dead,
the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.

For us it comes down to choices.

Will we be hungry or full, thirsty or quenched, poor or rich, sorrowful or joyful, persecuted and derided or spoken well of? Certainly! Will we be those things and sin because of them? Certainly! Will we try to be what Jesus asks, yet fall short of the mark Jesus set? Again, certainly! Will we be able to enumerate every sinful moment and choice in our marriages, our jobs, our families, and our personal moments? Yes!

And through it all, no matter the level of guilt, poor self-esteem, self-loathing, temptation, and sorrow —“ we must be joyful for the good news is that we will be blessed, on account of our choice for the Son of Man.

When they had done this, they caught a great number of fish
and their nets were tearing.

My brothers and sisters,

We are those fish. We are the people taken up in the nets of the Holy Church, the nets that pull us toward salvation.

While we’re sitting here in the nets, let’s consider what might happen to us.

Many are content to sit in the nets of the Church. They are protected, fed by the Church, and as long as they do not fight against the nets, they are drawn inexorably closer to the heavenly kingdom. They are models of content cooperation.

While that’s not a terribly bad way to live, it is a little passive.

Transformation occurs when the fish become the fishermen.

Each of today’s readings and the Gospel speak of the apprehension and the issues encountered before such a momentous transformation takes place.

Listen to Isaiah’s lament:

Then I said, —Woe is me, I am doomed!
For I am a man of unclean lips,
living among a people of unclean lips;
yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!—

Isaiah stood before the throne of God knowing that he was to be sent. Isaiah was to prophesy before Israel, encouraging them to follow in the way of God.

God asked from the throne:

—Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?—

To which Isaiah replied:

—Here I am,— I said; —send me!—

Isaiah started out in fear and trembling, and ended up affirming his willingness to take on the job God required.

Like some of us, Isaiah started out as fearful fish caught up in God’s net. He left the net to do God’s work and bring his people back.

Paul recognized his sinfulness in light of the hope and glory of salvation in Jesus Christ.

Paul says:

Last of all, as to one born abnormally,
He appeared to me.
For I am the least of the apostles,
not fit to be called an apostle,
because I persecuted the church of God.

…and he too affirms

But by the grace of God I am what I am,
and His grace to me has not been ineffective.

Paul, like many of the fish in the net, felt unworthy.

But Paul was born into new life in Christ. He recognized the most important thing. He could not do anything by himself. His preaching would be worthless, his message would fall like a stone, all except for the fact that he was reborn, regenerated in the Holy Spirit.

Like a fish, caught up in self loathing, Paul could have stayed down. But because he had faith, and because he saw what the Lord had accomplished, he was able to say:

Indeed, I have toiled harder than all of them;
not I, however, but the grace of God that is with me.

Paul was transformed from fish to fisherman by the grace of God. That grace is within all of us, calling us to be fishers of men.

Jesus put a very fine point on the whole matter.

The Apostles worked all night. They were exhausted. They, and their business partners, needed to get the nets clean and ready. They needed to get home, eat, rest, and prepare for the next day.

Along comes Jesus:

Getting into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon,
he asked him to put out a short distance from the shore.
Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat.

Can you imagine Peter’s thoughts? Maybe Peter was being polite, but inside he may have been aggravated. There’s this guy standing in my boat preaching and I need to get home. Jesus was like the guest who wouldn’t leave.

Then Jesus turns around and says:

—Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.—

Ummmm, yup, ok… Peter must have been flabbergasted.

But the Holy Spirit was at work. Peter replies:

—Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing,
but at your command I will lower the nets.—

We know the rest, a huge draught of fish, almost too much for two boats.

Do you think Peter understood?

I think he understood very well, and tried one last time to stay with the fish.

—Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.—

I’m not worthy, like Paul, like Isaiah, I’m not worthy.

To which Jesus replied:

—Do not be afraid;
from now on you will be catching men.—

That’s our mission. We are to transform ourselves from faithful fish, being pulled along in the nets of the Church, to faithful fishers of men.

We are to be the priests, the deacons, the evangelists, the public witnesses to all that Jesus said and did. We are to fill the nets of the Church. Only we, inspired by the Holy Spirit, can do it.