Tuesday, March 29, 2016

HOMILY for March 27, 2016: Easter


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Easter Sunday, Cycle ABC
Triduum Retreat at Retreat and Conference Center at Bon Secours
March 27, 2016

What will it take for us to have Easter change our lives?
By (Rev. Msgr.) Nicholas P. Amato


Christmas Versus Easter

Easter is different from Christmas. Christmas is an event that took place once and for all.

Easter ends with two men and a woman standing before an empty tomb.

In a nutshell, Easter stands in stark witness to the meaning of what it is to go on despite death, to go on in the face of death, to go on because of death.

I am suggesting that for us to celebrate Easter means to stand in the light of the empty tomb and decide what to do next with our lives.

There are two men and a woman who were touched deeply, people whose lives were transformed by standing before the empty tomb and who they were before the tomb is different from who they are after it.

Their transformation can show us the effect the empty tomb of Easter can have on us, as we stand there as well.

Mary Magdalene: from Clinging Believer to Proclaiming Woman

The first person to look at is Mary of Magdala. Mary is the one who has followed Jesus all her life; she’s never doubted him; she’s with him all the way to the cross.

She is a woman with great insight and a great commitment, but she is more of a believer than a proclaimer.

Mary sees the tomb open, but she doesn’t go in. She is afraid or perhaps she knows that whatever is going on in that tomb is going to demand even more than she’s already given. Perhaps the idea of doing more or doing it differently is what stops her where she stands.

Mary comes to the place where it was clear that failure lays; Jesus evidently failed in his mission and his life has ended in disgrace. She comes in the faith, of course, that what had come to life in her because of Jesus would not die. Not in her. Faith would be enough for her.

She is the part of us that takes pride in our being “Catholic.” We’re faithful to Mass attendance; we join committees; we support our church by giving regularly. Like Mary Magdalene we cling to Jesus and his church.

But clinging to him is precisely what Jesus doesn’t want of us. He wants us to speak out about him, to witness to his presence among the ill and the needy, the frail elderly, and the physically and mentally challenged.

He wants us to speak out against -isms of sexism, racism, and wherever we find it. To give voice to those who have little of no voice.

He wants more than passive belief. He wants her and us to be his living voice, risen from the grave.

Peter: from Realist to Risk-Taker

Peter is also at the empty tomb. Remember, he is one who makes great promises and then breaks them. His words to Jesus are, “I will never betray you” and then proceeds to do so three times later that same day.

He is the one who’s great with statements and actions that preserve his own status, like slipping away when others begin associating him with Jesus.

Peter is the part of us that knows how to be a Catholic without a cross. He loves everything Jesus stands for, as long as the crowds love what Jesus stands for.

However, when the crowd’s mood changes, so too, does Peter. Clearly Peter values what people think of him more than he values his integrity, more than he values his own truth.

The Peter in us is such a realist. We don’t want to rock the boat.

No need to speak out against abuses where we find them. No reason to mix work and religion. No gain to be had by upsetting the gathering of friends or the family get-together with delicate subjects like physician assisted suicide, the common good or immigration reform.

At the empty tomb, Peter learns that he is going to have to stand publicly with those who believe what Jesus believed and risk our own reputation to bring it about.

John from Contemplation to Action

Finally, John, “the one whom Jesus loved,” also stands before the empty tomb.

Scripture tells us he outruns the other two disciples, but stops at the entrance. We’re told he did it out of deference to Peter so he could go in first. Of course, he may have stopped for reasons of his own.

Why would John, who has been there every step of the way with Jesus right to the cross, stoop down, peer in and not go all the way in?

Perhaps it was for the same reason you and I don’t go all the way in to anything that has to do with our faith life or religious practice.

Maybe he knew it was one thing to reflect on the scene and another thing to act. To go into the tomb, John must have known would be to challenge his stance of being a safe observer.

If there is a temptation in the spiritual life it is to use prayer as an excuse for not doing anything. It helps us float above the fray of life. That is not prayer.

Real prayer breaks open the heart of the world in the very center of our own lives. To really pray is to hear the cry of the poor, respond to the call of the oppressed, do the will of God in my world.

If Jesus is risen from the tomb, we have to keep looking for him in the faces of those who oppose us, in our enemies, in our neighbor, in those in need.

Conclusion

Today we all come to the empty tomb and must leave to return to our living life in community, at work, and at play.

Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb as a clinging believer; she leaves a woman ready to proclaim good news to anyone who will listen to her.

Peter comes as a realist; he leaves as a risk-taker and in the end he is martyred for his faith.

John comes as a contemplative; he leaves knowing it could all end right here, but he chooses to act out of his prayer to bring others to faith.

And you? How have you come and, facing a seeming tragedy, how do you leave?

Easter demands as much of us today, as it did of the disciples then.


HOMILY for March 25, 2016: Good Friday


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Good Friday, ABC
Triduum Retreat at Retreat and Conference Center at Bon Secours
March 25, 2016

Doubt: An Essential for Mature Faith
By (Rev. Msgr.) Nicholas P. Amato


Sr. Marianna

A sister friend of mine, Sr. Marianna, once shared with me her story of an intense struggle of faith. She had studied the religious life rigorously and had always sought ways to make it more intense and keep it up-to-date.

Four years ago, Sr. Marianna discovered that she had a rare, painful, and fatal disease. For several years she suffered intense physical pain and discomfort. Eventually everything she believed in collapsed into a deep, dark hole and she lost her faith.

In all her studies and training in spirituality, she never believed she could have such a crisis.

In the days that followed, Marianna was led to a place devoid of spirit, emptied of all spiritual ambition and all satisfaction in what she had accomplished in her life. In this space she found no guides, no hints at where to go next.

But it was precisely in these depths she eventually discovered a new kind of faith, a faith that rose directly out of her depressive thoughts and dark emotions.

Marianna was shocked to feel faith stir in that deep, empty pit within her. With that stirring she uncovered a new and profound sense of peace: she no longer craved comfort from the hospital chaplain, from me, or anyone else.

This new faith was so deep and different from the faith she had been cultivating in her previous spiritual practices. There was more individuality in this faith; it was tied close to her own identity and to her illness.

Not long after she told me the story of her loss and rediscovery of faith, Sr. Marianna died peacefully in the Lord.

Two Kinds of Faith

From her I learned that there are two kinds of faith: one is faith up here in my head as the holding of certain beliefs. It’s the faith we profess each Sunday in the Nicene Creed, “I believe in God the Father Almighty …” Let’s call it head faith.

In many ways head faith is an easy faith; it centers in my rational and mental abilities and gets expressed on my lips.

But I would propose that there is a second kind of faith, a more mature, heartfelt faith. This faith is borne in utter darkness, of the soil of inner struggle and personal suffering, of going one-on-one against the very power of evil. We might call it soul faith.

The transition from head faith to soul faith is the journey that Marianna made in her final months of life. It is the journey of faith Jesus makes, in working through his own passion and dying.

It is the journey that each of us will make one day; a journey some of us are already in. it is the journey that is lived “de profundis,” “from the depths,” as we used to say in Latin.

The Difference Between the Two

What is different between the two is that in the second we admit to the shadow side of our faith.

In it can be found the believer and the disbeliever. What appear as weakness: questioning thoughts, drifting from my commitments, and change in understanding what my faith is, actually strengthen faith.

Both the Angel of Belief and the Devil of Doubt in us play constructive roles in soul faith.

Notice that in both Jesus and in Sr. Marianna, their experience of soul faith – complete with the doubts, shadows, and dark side of the human condition – was present. In Jesus it gets expressed with his use of the words of the 22nd Psalm: “My God, why have you forsaken me?”

Conclusion

What Jesus and Sr. Marianna teach us is that the mystery of human suffering and death cannot be comprehended with reason.

It is only understood and embraced in the confronting of that inner darkness and living out of that, with a confidant trust that God will see you through.

Suffering then, forces our attention to the very depths of our souls where we normally don’t like to go.

And here we find ourselves on Good Friday, and of all the days of the liturgical year, Jesus teaches us today that we have to arrive at that difficult point where we don’t know what is going on or what we can do.

Yet, it is precisely this point that becomes for us the sprouting shoot of a true fait

HOMILY for March 24, 2016: Holy Thursday: Mass of the Lord's Supper

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Holy Thursday: Mass of the Lord’s Supper, Cycles ABC
Triduum Retreat at Retreat and Conference Center at Bon Secours
March 24, 2016

Memories: Forgetting and Remembering
By (Rev. Msgr.) Nicholas P. Amato


Losing Memories

A family learned the dreaded diagnosis: their mother was suffering the onset of Alzheimer’s disease. Over the next few months, her memories – already slowly slipping away – would fade-to-black all together.

Her daughter-in-law reflects on the preciousness of memories that she and her husband, John, began to realize as his mother’s memory began to slip away.

“Life is about moments – the blessed, the tragic, the sidesplitting, the poignant. Our lives are framed by them, and each one of us has the assemblage of memories that could be edited together, set to music, and watched like a movie…memories comfort us.

“They make us who we are. Without a connection to who we were, we’d feel lost, which must be exactly how my mother-in-law feels.

“We want her so badly to remember us, and often she does, but we know we won’t always be that lucky…

“John once told me, ‘I want to make memories with you.’ It was a funny thing for a guy to say, but I know what he meant. He wanted me in his life, and he wanted to remember all of it.

“Memories are a privilege – every day we get to choose whether we want to remember something … and when those moments are slipping away, it reminds you how much there is to lose.

Keeping Memories

John and his wife began keeping a memory book. It was a cloth-covered book that they kept on our bedside table where they’d record a note about a day of fun they’d had or a silly moment they shared.

Perhaps it’s human that they didn’t write about the sad things, but it was their way of keeping a record. Whenever, one of them forgets, there will always be those voices, their voices, on the page speaking to them.

Memories are very precious things. Those of us who have suffered with a loved one afflicted with any form of dementia know all too well how fragile our ability to remember is.

Tonight’s Memories

Tonight is about reliving a memory: the memory of Jesus, the Christ, who, for our sakes, begins this night, his great Passover from death to life.

At this table, in the cenacle of our very own chapel, the memory of Jesus is quickened and becomes a living reality.

The rabbi Jesus speaks to us again in the pages of the Gospel book, in the basin, pitcher and towel, in the Eucharistic bread and wine.

The Mandatum

Jesus who revealed the wonders of God in stories about mustard seeds, sparrows and lilies, fishing nets and ungrateful children, on this last night of his life – as we know life – leaves his small band of disciples his most beautiful parable:

Ø  “As I have washed your feet like a slave, so you must wash the feet of each other and serve one another.

Ø  “As I have loved you without limit or condition, so you must love one another without limit or condition.

Ø  “As I am about to suffer and die for you, so you must suffer and, if necessary, die for one another.”

Tonight’s parable is so simple, but its lesson is so central to what being a real disciple of Jesus is all about.

When inspired by the love of Jesus for me, then the smallest act of service done for another takes on extraordinary dimensions.

Conclusion

Whenever we imitate Jesus’ compassion and humility in putting aside our robes, that is, putting aside our titles, wealth, education, whenever we’re willing to bend down and “wash the feet” of another in all humility, then the memory of Jesus’ compassion lives again.

And so we gather at this table on Holy Thursday to bless and break bread as he did, to bless and share the sacred cup as he did, and so experience again the selfless compassion of Jesus.

This night then challenges us to make the memory of Jesus’ compassionate healing and humble love for all people live again in our taking on the mandatum, which means taking on the charge of being foot-washers to one another, of becoming the community of the Eucharist Jesus envisioned us to become.

Two truths remain – (1) humbly serving and (2) becoming Jesus’ body – and because we don’t forget, because we remember, they come alive within this community here tonight.