Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord
Of all the feasts in the church, Ascension is my least favorite feast. After all, I am not very fond of goodbyes. It could be because my first real goodbye was also the hardest. I left home when I was barely seventeen. Leaving one’s family to join the seminary is unlike going away to college. There is a certain finality to that leaving. Ascension reminds me of that finality. No wonder, then, that the excitement that characteristic of the resurrection of Jesus is missing from the disciples at ascension. In fact, they are portrayed gaping at the sky, in doubt and questioning. So for me, the meaning of the feast of the Ascension rests less in the fact that Jesus went out of the sight of the world and is now seated at the right hand of God in heaven. That is no cause for feasting. For me, the meaning of Easter comes from this one statement, “You will be my witnesses….” In the gospel reading this command reads, “Go and make disciples.” Here lies the meaning of the feast of the ascension. The ascension of Jesus opens a new horizon for those who follow the path laid out by Jesus. The ascension of Jesus offers new possibilities for his disciples. Today I want to explore these new horizons, these new possibilities.
Sixth Sunday of Easter
During the early years of my spiritual journey, I used a very simple analogy to help me grow in my God-experience. I would often think my heart as my house. Like every other home, I would think of my heart as having a living room, a dining, a kitchen, bedrooms, a basement and even an attic. And in each of these rooms were closets where I stored things and sometimes even hide things that I did not want other people to see or know about. Talking about my heart as my house, it was easy to let Jesus into my living room and I would be happy if he just stayed there. But initially I had restrictions. It was as if I was saying, “Lord, please do not come into my bedroom. It is not always made up and clean. And for heaven’s sake, do not open the closets. You do not want to see the thing I collect. Of all things, do not turn on the channels on TV that I turn on, do not look around the room, or lift the mattress to see what is underneath.” It was as if the Lord and I could live under one roof but lead pretty independent lives. But sooner than later I realized that I couldn’t do that. Can’t mess with Jesus! Gradually I let him into my bedroom, into all the closets of my life. Felt much better because my life was much cleaner. But the Lord seemed dissatisfied even with that. “Lord what more can I do? Is there something more?” There came a day when I wrote my house to his name. My house, my home, my heart, my life was no longer mine but the Lord’s. This analogy helped me take my relationship with God to the next level.
Fifth Sunday of Easter
Those of you who had reached the age of reason by 1970, perhaps, will remember the small-pox menace. This deadly virus killed hundreds of thousands of people. And finally, in a global attempt, the virus was eradicated from the known world. Fourty years later, though, a huge debate is brewing about the small-pox virus, which is preserved in two laboratories, one in Russia and the other in the United States. Other countries, especially poorer countries are proposing that there is no merit in preserving a virus as destructive as this one. There are others, though, who say that the virus must be preserved for the sake of science. However, as the discussion heats up, we realize that the decision to either destroy or preserve the virus is more about politics than about anything else. There is tremendous fear on behalf of the Russians and the Americans that the virus could be used as a biological weapon and that the side without the virus could end up with a debilitating disadvantage. This is just one example of how the world, as beautiful and delightful as it is, is also beset with problems. The manner in which we go about solving our most complex issues will reveal the character of the people of our time.
Fourth Sunday of Easter
One of the most vexing questions that I have been asked in the last two weeks has been about the killing of Osama bin Laden. Clearly, there are people who are celebrating this killing and call his death the victory of Good over Evil. They think that justice has been finally been done. Some even carried out wild celebrations at ground zero in New York. The images of these celebrations will be added to other iconic images of our nation such as the landing on the moon and the eventual destruction of the World Trade Centres. And then there are people who feel clearly uncomfortable about such revelry. They are relieved that Bin Laden is no more, but quickly add that celebrating the killing of any person, including a known enemy, is offensive. The Catholic official voice was perhaps lost in the midst of all the political and patriotic claims. I will come to that in a little bit.
Third Sunday of Easter
In many ways, this sermon is a continuation of my homily last week. I had said last week that the time after Easter is the most dangerous time for Christians because people give up their spiritual discipline and slip back into their old way of life. On the other hand, I had suggested that somehow, we must find the motivation to keep Christ in focus. No other passage describes this better than that gospel reading about the disciples on the road to Emmaus.
Second Sunday of Easter
Easter is over! Many of us who gave up things for Lent are now perhaps enjoying these things again. I wonder, what did that first bite of chocolate, that first sip of coffee, that first gulp of beer, the fresh feel of game console feel like. PersonalIy, I consider the weeks after Lent to be the most dangerous time for Christians. Suddenly, the spiritual discipline that we got used to during Lent gets forgotten; prayer becomes more lax, and we get back to our old ways again. After Christ is risen and it is time to sit back and enjoy life again.
Easter Sunday: Solemnity of the Resurrection of The Lord
Speculation! Speculation!! Speculation!!! Around every Easter time, people begin to speculate. For example, last weeks’ TIME magazine carried a cover article titled, What if there’s No Hell? In March this year, Bart Ehrman (the author of God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question -- Why We Suffer), published a new book entitled, Forged: Writing in the Name of God--Why the Bible's Authors Are Not Who We Think They Are. In this book he claims that, "Christians intent on establishing what was right to believe did so by telling lies." So are we present today in this church on Easter Sunday because of a lie? Really? Can a lie sustain a way of life for two thousand years? For example, this year we have 23 people who came into the church at the vigil. I was in the confessional with some of these men, women and young people. A lie does not explain the personal transformation in them. A lie could not explain the burning in their hearts when they hear the name of Jesus. A lie could not explain the inexplicable love in their hearts. A lie could not account for the tears in their eyes. A lie cannot account for the steps they took to the altar. As a matter of fact, a lie does not account for us coming together today. This community, this gathering, our coming together, for me, is the greatest evidence of the resurrection of Christ.
Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion
Over the last two weeks I have spent much time in the confessional. And I have heard amazing stories of conversion. Both kids preparing for Confirmation and RCIA candidates preparing for baptism and reception into the church have been tremendous witness to me. I have been drawn to tears with their humility, their desire for God, and their willingness to follow Christ. I felt challenged by these conversion stories. As Holy Week approaches, these conversion stories have compelled me to evaluate my own Lenten journey. So I decided to go through all the homilies I preached and evaluate my life. I hope this reflection will be useful for you as well.
Fifth Sunday of Lent
Over the last three Sunday’s we have heard three rather long and dramatic episodes from the gospel of John. In many ways there are common themes that run between each of these three stories that are significant for us. As a reminder, two weeks back we had the story of the Samaritan woman, last week we read the story of the healing of the blind man and this week we have the reading of Martha, Mary and Lazarus. In these common themes, I would like to draw the practical implication for us today.
Fourth Sunday of Lent
I visited the Montgomery County Jail last week to hear a confession. When somebody makes a life-changing confession, I often remind them that the person who came into the confession is not the person who was going out. In other words, a person comes into the confessional a sinner but leaves a saint. But I could not say that to this man, because he was not going out anywhere. In spite of his confession he would still be in jail. In fact, I would be the one who would be going out. As I left the doors of the jail, I had that weird sense that even though this man was incarcerated, that at this moment he was more liberated than I was. Talk about irony, talk about light and darkness, talk about sin an holiness, talk about blindness and being able to see… it was truly weird. My puppy, Tutu helped me to overcome my weird sense.
Third Sunday of Lent
I need your help. Is there anyone here who has given up something you like for Lent and you are really hurting? And when you crave or desire what you have given up, what do you do? Do you just say, “Let me hang in there for just another three weeks? Or do you try to find a spiritual value to your Lenten practice? Is your Lenten observance making you a better person?
Second Sunday of Lent
If you were here for mass last week, you know how uncomfortable I was with the rather hurried up mass. We had to do this because of the Rite of Election but I remember a few years back a man met me at the parish festival. He introduced himself to me and told me that at one time, he used to be a parishioner at this parish. So I asked him what I could go for him. He said, “Give me a shorter mass!” I asked him to continue to go worship wherever he wanted to, because he was not going to get what he wanted at Immaculate Conception. What makes somebody ask something like that? It also makes me ask myself, “Why do I do what I continue to do?” I was telling one of my friends the other day, “If somehow God did not grip my life the way God did, it would so easy to not put my heart and soul into the things I do.” But I can look back to when I was about nineteen years old and that first experience of God’s all- consuming love. Life has not been the same. I am not saying that I have been immune from bad decisions, failures, mistakes, and sins; but that one single God-experience has defined the rest of my life.
First Sunday of Lent
I began Lent in right earnest. Ash Wednesday was a great day and so was Thursday. Friday, I put my heart and soul into the mission preparation, into writing my homily for the weekend and worked with the office staff to tidy up the place for the archbishop’s visit this weekend. By one o’clock I was ravenously hungry. I looked into the refrigerator and found left over food from the weekend. I did not think too much of what I was eating and inhaled the food. When the staff asked me what I had had for lunch, like lightening, it hit me. Darn it, it was Friday and I had just gobbled down the left over rice and meat. You should have seen their faces;, but of course, they said that the look on my face was even better. So much for beginning Lent in right earnest. The irony of all this lay in the fact that I was actually writing my homily on the temptations of Christ in the desert.
Sunday of the Ninth Week in Ordinary Time
I remember a story my father told me when I was a teenager. He told me about this dishonest man who worked for a construction company. He was a good worker, but he often cut corners, traded the good materials for cheaper supplies and kept the money for himself. No one knew anything about this but himself. As he was nearing his retirement, his boss called him and said to him that the owner of the company had one last project for him. He wanted him to design and construct the best house he ever could. The boss told him that this was for a very important person. Money, he said, was not an issue. The man began the project in great earnest. But as time went by, he also saw this as a great opportunity to make some money himself. He cut corners, used cheap materials, and used cheap labor to construct the house. Finally, the house was complete. The owner was very impressed because this was indeed the best house the man had ever designed and constructed. The owner, then handed the keys over the man and said, “You have worked for me for so many years. In gratitude, this home is my gift to you.” The man’s heart sank to the bottom. What could have been the best house he could have retired into turned out to be a cheap imitation.
Sunday of the Eighth Week in Ordinary Time
When I have conversations with people about God, the very first question I ask them is how they imagine God. I even try to probe the specifics; what does God look like? Do they imagine God to be male, female, or spirit? What qualities do they associate with God primarily? Is God smiling, frowning, angry? What does God do on a day to day basis? Although, most people cannot be sure of the answers, it gives me an insight into the kind of relationship I can expect people to have with God. In today’s gospel Jesus offers a new way to imagine God.
Sunday of the Seventh Week in Ordinary Time
Holiness… Perfection… these are not words we associate with ourselves easily. On the contrary, we are the victims of the common adage, “To err is human….” Many people consider holiness and perfection to be outside the ordinary realm. I was barely seventeen when I joined the seminary. I was sure then that I wanted to try the priesthood, but I was less aware of holiness or how to be holy. And sure enough, we were given numerous books about the lives of the saints to read. They made great reading but these books, but as I read them then, it seemed to me that they included a fair amount of a romanticization of holiness. It seemed to me at that time that holiness was beyond me. These books portrayed holiness as something unreachable for a seventeen year old guy who struggled with bad thoughts, who entertained fantasies, who has trouble getting along with other seminarians, and one who struggled with genuine prayer. It took me a long time to realize that holiness and perfection are not unattainable for even a guy like me.
Sunday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time
It was in the seminary that I first heard the parable of the wise old man and the boy with the butterfly. The wise old man travelled from village to village and from town to town and along the way, people would line up to ask him their most difficult questions. One day he noticed a young boy, barely in his teens, standing in the long queue. This boy had a nasty habit. He would catch butterflies, hold them in his little fist and ask people if the butterfly is dead or alive. If someone said that the butterfly was alive, he would let the butterfly go free; but if someone said that it was alive, he would crush it in his fist and prove the answer wrong. The wise man approached the boy and asked, "Son, what question do you have for the old man?" The boy stretched out his hand toward the old man. Inside his small closed fist was a beautiful butterfly he had caught that day. And the boy said, "Sir, if you are as wise as everyone believes you to be, please tell me whether the butterfly in my hand is dead or alive.” For a minute or so the wise man was lost for words. He thought hard for a while, then looked at the mischievous grin on the boy’s face. The old man stared straight into the boy's eyes and said, “Son, whether the butterfly is dead or alive, it depends on you. The choice is in your hands."
Sunday of the Fifth Week in Ordinary Time
It is just a week back that I met 3 year old David. He is unusually friendly and outgoing. So when I went for the School open house last Sunday, David had a very specific question for me. He said to me, “Are you God?” I have had kids who think I am Jesus because of my long hair. But this is the first that someone asked me about being God. I was so flabbergasted that I do not ever remember my response.
Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
How many of us think of ourselves as “serious Christians?” If you are one of the people who put your hand up, here is a second question: What is the standard against which you evaluate your being a “serious Christian?” Are there criteria by which you judge yourself? For example, for some it is never missing mass on Sunday. For others, it is being pro-life, or reading the Bible each day, or saying morning or evening prayer. For yet other people it is about being good to other people and being in church regularly. But today is about you. Do you think of yourself as a serious follower of Jesus?
Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
The State of Kerala that I come from in India is socially and economically better off than many other States. There is poverty but absolute misery is less common. So when I saw this shabbily clad older woman with her equally miserable but pretty looking young daughter and the daughter’s half naked four-year-old wandering the streets of my hometown, I was taken aback. This little child – she only had her dirty underpants on. Her face was filthy, her hair frazzled and she looked starved. Many people turned around to look at them because they clearly seemed to be strangers. I decided to go after them, strike a conversation with them and offered to take them to the local restaurant for lunch. (As I led them to the restaurant, the young woman disappeared. I think I know why. I am presuming that she prostituted herself for a living and may be they thought that I would want her in exchange for the favour; or she had found a customer because I did not see her again). I paid for lunch for three but the older woman very honestly decided that two lunches would be enough since the child could share with them. Instead, she asked me if I would offer her to buy her a pair of eye glasses. She said it would cost her a thousand Rupees. I was clearly not prepared to be that generous. But then, I saw the rosary around her neck. She held on to the rosary and pleaded with me that she was not lying about the eye glasses. I opened my wallet and gave her five-hundred rupees. You would have thought I had opened heavens doors to her. Then, in the middle of the entire town square, she laid her dirty, filthy hands on my head and blessed me. She invoked heaven and all its blessing upon me. Then she asked me to bless them. Knowing that a lot of people were watching this spectacle, very embarrassed, I laid my hands on her and the child very quickly, blessed them, made her promise me that she would not spend my money on anything else but eyes glasses, turned around and left.