Is 55:1-3
Rom 8:35, 37-39
Mt 14:13-21
If you have ever seriously cooked, you have come across the concept of developing a foundation of flavors. This is done by putting together small amounts of various ingredients, which together provide a deep, rich flavor for the dish you are preparing. The dish would most likely be fine if one of these ingredients was missing, but it wouldn’t be quite the same. The depth of flavor, the richness would be compromised. Take something as simple as an omelet. A lot of different things can be added, each changing the dish just a bit, each adding to the depth of the flavor, each giving the dish a richness it would otherwise lack. You could add onions to the omelet, giving the omelet a certain depth and richness. Without the onions it is still a fine omelet, but it is a better omelet with them.
Jesus went off in a futile attempt to be alone when he heard of the death of John the Baptizer. Crowds followed him, and stayed until it was late, too late for them to find food. The disciples of Jesus asked him to dismiss the crowds, send them off to find food. Jesus tells them to give them some food yourselves. I am sure they were a bit flabbergasted. Give them what food? All they had were five loaves of bread and two fish, barely enough to feed themselves. Jesus instructed them to bring him the loaves and the fish, and to have the crowd sit. Jesus blessed and broke the bread, then gave it to his disciples to distribute to the crowd. All ate and were satisfied, and there were twelve wicker baskets of food left over. Five loaves and two fish were more than enough to feed the crowd.
All of us, each one, has a gift that God has given us, a gift that we can share with the world, a gift that in some way makes the world a better place. Too often we are reluctant to share that gift, certain that we are inadequate, the gift is so small that it can’t matter. No one will notice if our gift is missing. The world will almost undoubtedly continue, with or without the contribution we can make. Yet like the onions in the omelet, it won’t be quite as good as it could have been. Our gift may seem to be small and inconsequential to us, but it is indispensable. Our gift adds to the depth and the richness of life, of the world. It doesn’t matter how small we think it is. It is enough to make a difference. How do I know? Jesus said give them some food yourselves. They gave him five loaves and two fish. He blessed them and gave them to the people, and there were twelve baskets of fragments left over.
Deacon John
Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Aug. 3, 2008
Monday, August 04, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
The Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Wis 12:13, 16-19
Rom 8:26-27
Mt 13:24-43
A man has his fields planted with what he is sure is good wheat. Yet as the wheat begins to grow his servants see that weeds are growing among the wheat. Rather that trying to pull the weeds out, he chooses to allow the weeds to grow with the wheat, separating them at harvest time. This is a risky choice. Yes, pulling the weeds could damage the wheat should it unintentionally be pulled up as well. Allowing the weeds to grow runs the risk of having the wheat crop overwhelmed by the weeds. The weeds could suck the nutrients out of the soil, leaving little or nothing for the wheat. The weeds could proliferate to the point that the wheat is crowded out. The weeds could win, leaving the man with nothing for the weeds have no purpose. I am not a biologist and I am not an expert on the environment. I am certain that somewhere, in some context, these weeds have a purpose, a reason for being. In this context, however, the weeds have no purpose. They serve only to destroy the crop that was intended in the planting of the wheat. The world is much like this field. We are sown, and we are meant to flourish. We are meant to grow, to learn, to reach out to God, but we find ourselves surrounded by weeds. Weeds are all around us, and they can drain our life away, distracting us from our original purpose, overwhelming us, preventing us from flourishing as we are intended. The truly sad part is that too often, we begin to side with the weeds. We begin to see as acceptable that which is unacceptable. So, I fudged a little on my taxes, everybody does it. Why get married, it’s just a societal ritual, it doesn’t prove we love one another. Why should I help them, I got mine, go get your own. We rationalize our behavior, we find ways to justify our choices, we begin to become the weeds. We let the weeds steal our nutrition, we become overwhelmed by what is around us. It does not have to be this way. The weeds can pull us away, overwhelm us, only if we fail to remember who we are and who is with us. God provides us with the sustenance we need, God makes it possible for us to avoid being overwhelmed, but only if we turn to God, depend on God, realize that we will only find life in God. The weeds do not give life, they take it. God gives us life, protecting us from the weeds. But we must choose. Will we turn to God, or be pulled in by the weeds? Will we accept the eternal life that God offers us, or go with the weeds, a way that takes our life? Will we lead others by word and example to turn to life, to turn to God, or will we lead them into the weeds? Are we wheat, or are we weed?
Deacon John
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 20, 2008
Rom 8:26-27
Mt 13:24-43
A man has his fields planted with what he is sure is good wheat. Yet as the wheat begins to grow his servants see that weeds are growing among the wheat. Rather that trying to pull the weeds out, he chooses to allow the weeds to grow with the wheat, separating them at harvest time. This is a risky choice. Yes, pulling the weeds could damage the wheat should it unintentionally be pulled up as well. Allowing the weeds to grow runs the risk of having the wheat crop overwhelmed by the weeds. The weeds could suck the nutrients out of the soil, leaving little or nothing for the wheat. The weeds could proliferate to the point that the wheat is crowded out. The weeds could win, leaving the man with nothing for the weeds have no purpose. I am not a biologist and I am not an expert on the environment. I am certain that somewhere, in some context, these weeds have a purpose, a reason for being. In this context, however, the weeds have no purpose. They serve only to destroy the crop that was intended in the planting of the wheat. The world is much like this field. We are sown, and we are meant to flourish. We are meant to grow, to learn, to reach out to God, but we find ourselves surrounded by weeds. Weeds are all around us, and they can drain our life away, distracting us from our original purpose, overwhelming us, preventing us from flourishing as we are intended. The truly sad part is that too often, we begin to side with the weeds. We begin to see as acceptable that which is unacceptable. So, I fudged a little on my taxes, everybody does it. Why get married, it’s just a societal ritual, it doesn’t prove we love one another. Why should I help them, I got mine, go get your own. We rationalize our behavior, we find ways to justify our choices, we begin to become the weeds. We let the weeds steal our nutrition, we become overwhelmed by what is around us. It does not have to be this way. The weeds can pull us away, overwhelm us, only if we fail to remember who we are and who is with us. God provides us with the sustenance we need, God makes it possible for us to avoid being overwhelmed, but only if we turn to God, depend on God, realize that we will only find life in God. The weeds do not give life, they take it. God gives us life, protecting us from the weeds. But we must choose. Will we turn to God, or be pulled in by the weeds? Will we accept the eternal life that God offers us, or go with the weeds, a way that takes our life? Will we lead others by word and example to turn to life, to turn to God, or will we lead them into the weeds? Are we wheat, or are we weed?
Deacon John
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 20, 2008
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Zec 9:9-10
Rom 8:9, 11-13
Mt 11:25-30
I believe in education. I believe that everyone should get all the education they possibly can. Education can open doors that otherwise stay shut. Certainly education can open doors to employment possibilities that otherwise would be unavailable to someone, but education is, or should be, more than that. Education should, hopefully, open doors in the mind, doors that can lead to a better understanding of the world, of the people who inhabit the world, and, most importantly, a better understanding of yourself. I believe in education. I have an advanced degree myself. I believe in education. Yet, I have to admit that education is not, in and of itself, the most important thing. Those of us with education have a tendency to make things complicated. Some things are complicated, not easily explained or understood. Some things, however, are not. We make them complicated even though they are actually quite simple. We make our faith complex, with all manner of theological ideas, explanations, theories, and rules based on them. If we stand back and look, our faith is really quite simple. The most basic statement of our faith is Jesus Christ is Lord. As Lord the Christ calls on us to do one thing, love. Love God with our whole heart, soul, mind and being, and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. That’s it. It really is that simple. It doesn’t require a PhD to understand these (I hesitate to use this word, but) fundamentals of our faith. I think that sometimes the education can even get in the way. Jesus tells us in the Gospel that “for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones.” We are called to believe, and because of that belief, we are called to love. That is why the Christ also tells us “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” Believe and love. It really is that simple.
Deacon John
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 6, 2008
Rom 8:9, 11-13
Mt 11:25-30
I believe in education. I believe that everyone should get all the education they possibly can. Education can open doors that otherwise stay shut. Certainly education can open doors to employment possibilities that otherwise would be unavailable to someone, but education is, or should be, more than that. Education should, hopefully, open doors in the mind, doors that can lead to a better understanding of the world, of the people who inhabit the world, and, most importantly, a better understanding of yourself. I believe in education. I have an advanced degree myself. I believe in education. Yet, I have to admit that education is not, in and of itself, the most important thing. Those of us with education have a tendency to make things complicated. Some things are complicated, not easily explained or understood. Some things, however, are not. We make them complicated even though they are actually quite simple. We make our faith complex, with all manner of theological ideas, explanations, theories, and rules based on them. If we stand back and look, our faith is really quite simple. The most basic statement of our faith is Jesus Christ is Lord. As Lord the Christ calls on us to do one thing, love. Love God with our whole heart, soul, mind and being, and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. That’s it. It really is that simple. It doesn’t require a PhD to understand these (I hesitate to use this word, but) fundamentals of our faith. I think that sometimes the education can even get in the way. Jesus tells us in the Gospel that “for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones.” We are called to believe, and because of that belief, we are called to love. That is why the Christ also tells us “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” Believe and love. It really is that simple.
Deacon John
Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
July 6, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul
Acts 12:1-11
2 Tm 4:6-8, 17-18
Mt 16:13-19
Ordinary people called to do the extraordinary. That is what all of us are. Ordinary people called to do the extraordinary. Just look at the example of the two men whose lives we celebrate today, St. Peter and St. Paul. Ordinary men. Unexceptional in many ways. Peter was a simple fishermen. I doubt that he was highly educated, just a rough, unsophisticated working man. Yet look at the work that God accomplished through this simple man. When Jesus asked who do people say that I am, this simple fisherman had the answer. When facing persecution he did not flinch or back away from the truth, he stood by the Christ, spreading the Gospel, despite the cost. An ordinary man doing the extraordinary. St. Paul, on the other hand was educated, a Pharisee, familiar with the law. Yet even this Pharisee was an ordinary working man, a tentmaker by trade, a trade he continued to practice even as he worked fearlessly to spread the Good News throughout the world, even to the Gentiles. St. Peter and St. Paul, giants among the earliest followers of Jesus. Together they did much to make the name of Christ known to the world. As extraordinary as they were, as extraordinary as their lives were, the single most exceptional thing they did was to love. They accepted the love of Christ, then shared that infinite love with the world around them. Love is what made them extraordinary. Ordinary people called to do the extraordinary, in and through love. And that my brothers and sisters is what we are called to as well. We are called to accept the infinite love of God and in turn give that love to the world. In that sharing of God’s love we become ordinary people doing the extraordinary.
Deacon John
Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul, Apostles
June 29, 2008
2 Tm 4:6-8, 17-18
Mt 16:13-19
Ordinary people called to do the extraordinary. That is what all of us are. Ordinary people called to do the extraordinary. Just look at the example of the two men whose lives we celebrate today, St. Peter and St. Paul. Ordinary men. Unexceptional in many ways. Peter was a simple fishermen. I doubt that he was highly educated, just a rough, unsophisticated working man. Yet look at the work that God accomplished through this simple man. When Jesus asked who do people say that I am, this simple fisherman had the answer. When facing persecution he did not flinch or back away from the truth, he stood by the Christ, spreading the Gospel, despite the cost. An ordinary man doing the extraordinary. St. Paul, on the other hand was educated, a Pharisee, familiar with the law. Yet even this Pharisee was an ordinary working man, a tentmaker by trade, a trade he continued to practice even as he worked fearlessly to spread the Good News throughout the world, even to the Gentiles. St. Peter and St. Paul, giants among the earliest followers of Jesus. Together they did much to make the name of Christ known to the world. As extraordinary as they were, as extraordinary as their lives were, the single most exceptional thing they did was to love. They accepted the love of Christ, then shared that infinite love with the world around them. Love is what made them extraordinary. Ordinary people called to do the extraordinary, in and through love. And that my brothers and sisters is what we are called to as well. We are called to accept the infinite love of God and in turn give that love to the world. In that sharing of God’s love we become ordinary people doing the extraordinary.
Deacon John
Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul, Apostles
June 29, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Jer 20:10-13
Rom 5:12-15
Mt 10:26-33
Why is it that we seem to like to hide so much? Things are kept concealed, hidden away from others, sometimes even from ourselves. What are we so afraid of? Being open does make us vulnerable, but is that necessarily a bad thing, something to be frightened of? Are we so afraid of the possibility of being hurt because of our openness that we shut down, that we hide, that we compartmentalize our lives? We do compartmentalize, everything has a place, work, home, family, friends, faith. All kept separate, all apart, none having much if anything to do with the other, particularly faith. The very thing that should inform our lives, that should have the greatest impact on us, is the part we too often bury the deepest. We leave faith to Church on Sunday. Maybe we feel safer in a group, the anonymity of the crowd. We’re around people who agree with us, so far as we know, so we have no reason to fear. The truth is we have no reason to fear anyway. Christ tells us, fear no one. What is hidden will be revealed. There’s no point in hiding our faith. Since there’s no point in hiding it, let’s shout it from the rooftops, bring it into the light. The worst consequence we seem to fear turns out to be …nothing. Proclaiming our faith in Christ is not something to hide or fear, or put into a compartment separate from the rest of our lives. Rather it is a privilege, even a joy, for as we proclaim our faith, we just may help someone else find theirs.
Deacon John
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary time
June 22, 2008
Rom 5:12-15
Mt 10:26-33
Why is it that we seem to like to hide so much? Things are kept concealed, hidden away from others, sometimes even from ourselves. What are we so afraid of? Being open does make us vulnerable, but is that necessarily a bad thing, something to be frightened of? Are we so afraid of the possibility of being hurt because of our openness that we shut down, that we hide, that we compartmentalize our lives? We do compartmentalize, everything has a place, work, home, family, friends, faith. All kept separate, all apart, none having much if anything to do with the other, particularly faith. The very thing that should inform our lives, that should have the greatest impact on us, is the part we too often bury the deepest. We leave faith to Church on Sunday. Maybe we feel safer in a group, the anonymity of the crowd. We’re around people who agree with us, so far as we know, so we have no reason to fear. The truth is we have no reason to fear anyway. Christ tells us, fear no one. What is hidden will be revealed. There’s no point in hiding our faith. Since there’s no point in hiding it, let’s shout it from the rooftops, bring it into the light. The worst consequence we seem to fear turns out to be …nothing. Proclaiming our faith in Christ is not something to hide or fear, or put into a compartment separate from the rest of our lives. Rather it is a privilege, even a joy, for as we proclaim our faith, we just may help someone else find theirs.
Deacon John
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary time
June 22, 2008
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Hos 6:3-6
Rom 4:18-25
Mt 9:9-13
“Go and learn the meaning of the words, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice’”
“for it is love that I desire, not sacrifice”
Perhaps we do need to learn the meaning of sacrifice. What does it mean to sacrifice? A sacrifice can be an offering, something given up for the sake of something else. We sacrifice things all of the time. We give up that piece of cake for the sake of our weight. We sacrifice buying that new car to save the money it would cost. These are certainly sacrifices, but in some way selfish sacrifices. In the Gospel Jesus calls Matthew, and Matthew follows. This is certainly a sacrifice on Matthew’s part, and not a selfish one. Matthew’s sacrifice is a sacrifice given up for something else. Yet later, in Matthew’s house, Jesus tells the Pharisees to learn the meaning of the words I desire mercy, not sacrifice, much as Hosea told the people God desires love, not sacrifice. Ah, love. There is the key. Love, love that leads to mercy, love that leads to sacrifice for the sake of another, for the sake of love. We “sacrifice” all of the time, but do we sacrifice for the sake of love? What are we willing to sacrifice to show love, for love, for another? It is only in love that sacrifice has any meaning, any value. After all we are gathered here today for a sacrifice. But it is not our sacrifice. We sacrifice nothing, yet we gain everything. The sacrifice we celebrate is given for us, given through God’s mercy, given because of infinite love. The word sacrifice can be interpreted as doing something sacred, to offer something to God. The sacrifice we celebrate today certainly is a sacred act, an act that makes us holy, an act that is possible only because of infinite love. Love that is given to us, love that we now are called upon to give to the world, “for it is love that I desire…”
Deacon John
Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 8, 2008
Rom 4:18-25
Mt 9:9-13
“Go and learn the meaning of the words, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice’”
“for it is love that I desire, not sacrifice”
Perhaps we do need to learn the meaning of sacrifice. What does it mean to sacrifice? A sacrifice can be an offering, something given up for the sake of something else. We sacrifice things all of the time. We give up that piece of cake for the sake of our weight. We sacrifice buying that new car to save the money it would cost. These are certainly sacrifices, but in some way selfish sacrifices. In the Gospel Jesus calls Matthew, and Matthew follows. This is certainly a sacrifice on Matthew’s part, and not a selfish one. Matthew’s sacrifice is a sacrifice given up for something else. Yet later, in Matthew’s house, Jesus tells the Pharisees to learn the meaning of the words I desire mercy, not sacrifice, much as Hosea told the people God desires love, not sacrifice. Ah, love. There is the key. Love, love that leads to mercy, love that leads to sacrifice for the sake of another, for the sake of love. We “sacrifice” all of the time, but do we sacrifice for the sake of love? What are we willing to sacrifice to show love, for love, for another? It is only in love that sacrifice has any meaning, any value. After all we are gathered here today for a sacrifice. But it is not our sacrifice. We sacrifice nothing, yet we gain everything. The sacrifice we celebrate is given for us, given through God’s mercy, given because of infinite love. The word sacrifice can be interpreted as doing something sacred, to offer something to God. The sacrifice we celebrate today certainly is a sacred act, an act that makes us holy, an act that is possible only because of infinite love. Love that is given to us, love that we now are called upon to give to the world, “for it is love that I desire…”
Deacon John
Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 8, 2008
Sunday, June 01, 2008
The Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Dt 11:18, 26-28, 32
Rom 3:21-25, 28
Mt 7:21-27
Tefillin, or phylacteries, are leather boxes containing particular passages from Scripture that some devout Jewish people strap to their foreheads and arms during morning prayer. The purpose of the phylacteries are to serve as a reminder that they are to be dedicated to God in whatever they do, feel or think. The phylacteries, in and of themselves, have no power, they cannot save the person wearing them, they simply serve as a reminder, a reminder of the rock of God on which the house of faith is built.
They may appear strange to us, but as Catholics we have our own version of these devotional items, things we refer to as Sacramentals. Scapulars, medals, other items we may wear, some we use but do not carry, like Holy Water. Again, these items are meant to simply serve as a reminder of who we are, of what we believe. They are designed to draw us to God, to assist us in our devotions, to be, hopefully, a constant reminder of who we are, of what we believe. In and of themselves these items have no power to save us. We may carry the words of God close to our minds and hearts, we may wear our scapulars and medals, but they are just reminders. They exist to draw us to the Rock, the rock of safety, the Rock of faith, the Rock that is our God. We must do more than carry these devotions on our bodies, we must carry them in our hearts and in our souls. We must hear the words and act on them. Only then have we set the foundation of our house of faith on rock, on solid ground. Only then have we placed our faith in the Rock, built our faith on the Rock, safe from wind and storm.
Deacon John
Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 1, 2008
Rom 3:21-25, 28
Mt 7:21-27
Tefillin, or phylacteries, are leather boxes containing particular passages from Scripture that some devout Jewish people strap to their foreheads and arms during morning prayer. The purpose of the phylacteries are to serve as a reminder that they are to be dedicated to God in whatever they do, feel or think. The phylacteries, in and of themselves, have no power, they cannot save the person wearing them, they simply serve as a reminder, a reminder of the rock of God on which the house of faith is built.
They may appear strange to us, but as Catholics we have our own version of these devotional items, things we refer to as Sacramentals. Scapulars, medals, other items we may wear, some we use but do not carry, like Holy Water. Again, these items are meant to simply serve as a reminder of who we are, of what we believe. They are designed to draw us to God, to assist us in our devotions, to be, hopefully, a constant reminder of who we are, of what we believe. In and of themselves these items have no power to save us. We may carry the words of God close to our minds and hearts, we may wear our scapulars and medals, but they are just reminders. They exist to draw us to the Rock, the rock of safety, the Rock of faith, the Rock that is our God. We must do more than carry these devotions on our bodies, we must carry them in our hearts and in our souls. We must hear the words and act on them. Only then have we set the foundation of our house of faith on rock, on solid ground. Only then have we placed our faith in the Rock, built our faith on the Rock, safe from wind and storm.
Deacon John
Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 1, 2008
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