Jesus walks along our way – Mark 10:46-52

30th Sunday in OT, Year B; Holy Infant parish. A shorter than normal homily, as we had a presentation of the status of our building plans too.

The first time I visited Durham was just over three years ago. I was serving at Notre Dame then and me and another priest from my community had been assigned to make applications to doctoral programs during that year, so we’d be able eventually to serve as faculty members at one of our community’s universities. During ND’s Fall break, Fr. Mark and I did a kind of road trip, to check out various schools on the East coast that we might be interested in applying to. We went out to Yale, Boston College and then down to Duke, where I had a wonderful visit and became pretty convinced that this is where I really was called to do my doctorate. That, of course, led to all kinds of worry. Initially, would I get in? But just as importantly, was I sure I’d be able to thrive here as a priest, and as a vowed religious of the Congregation of Holy Cross, while I did these studies that I felt called to?

Jesus pierces suffering – Mark 10:35-45, Heb 4:14-16

Twenty-ninth Sunday in OT, Year B; Holy Infant parish.

Someone recently sent me a short video about a chef called Mark Brand. Mark is a person who was at one point in his life without housing. He talks in the video about how sometimes that meant rotating between friends’ couches; sometimes that meant sleeping rough. He talks very honestly about how sometimes his life did involve making bad decision concerning alcohol and other drugs, and other times when he was able to choose sobriety for sustained periods, but had to deal with people who assumed he wasn’t. Things changed for Mark. He now owns a couple of restaurants. He has a permanent roof over his head, he employs people.

God fills us to overflowing – Mark 10:17-27, Heb 4:12-13

Twenty-eighth Sunday of OT, Year B; Holy Infant

You’ve all probably heard that familiar adage that a pessimist says a glass is half-empty and an optimist says that it’s half-full.  Well, as Christians, we’re not called to be pessimists or optimists. We’re called to be something much more exciting; we’re called to be people of hope. A person of hope doesn’t deal in these half measures: hope proclaims that the glass can be filled.  Christian hope is assured that God can fill us up, that through the blood of Christ out poured, we can be filled to overflowing with holiness and love.  God will fill us.  That’s what Jesus means when he says that “All things are possible with God.”

Jesus brings us back to God’s creative love – Mark 10:2-12, Gen 2:18-24

Twenty-seventh Sunday of OT, Year B; Holy Infant parish.

“Go back to the beginning… how did this all start?”  When something that was meant to be wonderful starts to taste bitter, that can be just the question to ask.  What was it that so exited me and led me to take this job, to begin this course of study, to play on this team, … to marry this person?  How can I bring that initial fervor to life again, in the more mature way that’s needed to deal with our more seasoned problems or our creeping ennui?

Jesus welcomes all into Kingdom joy – Mark 9:38-48

Twenty-sixth Sunday in OT, Year B; Holy Infant parish.

There’s really no good transition from plucking eyes out to anything else, so I’m not even going to try. I’m just going to start talking about St. Lucy’s day, and that’ll get us back to eyes soon enough. I don’t know if any of you have ever been to a St. Lucy’s day celebration. It’s December 13^th, and a traditional day in many parts of Europe to lessen the rigors of Advent and celebrate. It’s a Friday this year, so for people who want to have parties prior to the start of the Christmas season, I especially recommend it. Lucy’s name is derived from the Latin word for light, so in parts of France it’s a day to let off fireworks. I parts of Scandinavia, it’s an occasion for parades in which young women wear headdresses containing lit candles. As the winter darkness draws in (which it does much more severely further North than here), these things can be wonderful reminders of how the light Christ is scatters all that’s dark. But, there’s an aspect of St. Lucy I haven’t discussed. She was an early martyr, under Decian, and legend has it that as part of the torture they subjected her to prior to her execution, her eyes were gouged out. Iconography of her often features her holding those eyes on a platter. There’s something somewhat macabre about that, but it’s a thoroughly Christian kind of macabre: As much as Roman Imperial Power tried to degrade her, she lives in Christ; as much as they tried to snuff out the light of her eyes, she inspires festivals of light among so many people; her risen life as a saint with Christ, welcomed by him into the kingdom, is full of light and joy, so full that she doesn’t need her eyes back in her sockets to know heavenly joy.

Jesus embraces us – Mark 9:30-37, James 3:16-4:3

Twenty-fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year B; Holy Infant church.

There’s a puzzle that British newspapers like to publish called ‘spot the ball.’  They’ll take a photo of a moment in a soccer match, use computer wizardry to render the ball invisible and invite readers to reconstruct where it must be.  It sometimes takes some thought, but it’s an eminently doable puzzle, because all the action really is revolving around the ball; everyone on the pitch treats it as the most important object in the world and focuses their attention on it.  It’s the same when someone really important, really valued, really great is walking somewhere.  They’re surrounded, in the center, all conversations and interactions are rooted around the great one in their midst.

The love of Christ urges us on – Mark 8:27-35

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B; Holy Infant parish.

I read a human interest story earlier today about George Ruiz. George had retired after serving twenty years in the Coast Guard. He drove in to the Carolinas this weekend from Alabama, cutting down trees in his way, to come rescue people. Sometimes he can get someone out alone, sometimes he can use his expertise to get more accurate information to the emergency services and help them adjust their triage list so as people who are on the wait list to be rescued and be helped sooner if time is running out quicker than expected for them. Now, I don’t know George. I’ve never met him, probably never will. But, I’m guessing he’s not out there because he loves wind and rain. I’m also guessing he’s smart enough that it’s not that he has no fear of these things. He’s not there, I’m guessing, because he thinks putting himself in danger is fun. I’m guessing he’s there, in harm’s way, because of deep-seated love for humanity that won’t shirk from danger when he has an opportunity to express that love in concrete acts of saving people.