Great Expectations of God: You Need Them If You Want to be Able to Rejoice Always

(Third Sunday of Advent (C): This homily was given on December 15, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Zephaniah 3:14-18a; Isaiah 12:2-6; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:10-18)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Third Sunday of Advent 2024]

 

We usually expect too much from other people.  Deep down inside we know we shouldn’t, but we do anyway.  Children, for example, expect their parents to be perfect, but there are no perfect parents on the planet. 

A man expects his wife to fulfill his life in every way—a woman expects the same of her husband—but it doesn’t happen (indeed, it cannot happen!).

We expect professional athletes to be great role models for children, but, as we’ve discovered over the years with athletes from every sport, that’s a very unrealistic expectation.

We expect to be understood by the people we love, but that doesn’t always happen.

We expect to be forgiven by friends and family members and co-workers when we tell them that we’re sorry for hurting them, but sometimes they withhold their forgiveness.

This phenomenon, of course, is not peculiar to our era of human history.  People have always expected too much from others.  Just look at today’s gospel story from Luke 3.  John the Baptist preaches, teaches and baptizes the crowds at the Jordan River, and they begin to think that he’s something he isn’t; they begin to think that he’s someone he isn’t.

The text reads, “Now the people were filled with expectation, and all were asking in their hearts whether John might be the Christ.”

Obviously they had an unrealistic expectation for John, in thinking he was the Messiah.  John immediately recognized this and addressed the problem head-on.  He said, “I am baptizing you with water, but one mightier than I is coming.  I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals.  He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

In other words, “Don’t expect me to be the Christ, because you’ll be greatly disappointed.  The real Messiah is coming, and he’s far greater than I am.  In fact, I’m not worthy to take care of his footgear!”

Now here’s the real—and extremely sad—irony.  As I’ve just made clear, we flawed human beings usually expect too much from other people.  And yet, at the very same time, we expect too little—much too little—from Almighty God!

Perhaps that’s the reason why some of us don’t rejoice—at this or at any other time of the year.  Perhaps that’s the reason why some of us can’t rejoice.

Today we celebrate Gaudete Sunday.  It’s the Sunday on which the rose candle of our Advent wreath is lit, signifying that we’re in the second half of Advent and that the joy of Christmas is fast approaching.

Gaudete in Latin means “Rejoice!”  It’s a command which comes from the Scripture text we heard in our second reading today from Philippians 4, where St. Paul says, “Rejoice in the Lord always!”

But, you see, you can’t rejoice in the Lord—always or even for a little while—unless you have great expectations of God.  Neither will you be able to rejoice if you have a lot of unrealistic expectations of God, but that’s another story. 

First of all, a distinction needs to be made here between feeling joy and rejoicing.  The two are easily and often confused.  Feeling joy is an emotional response to something that pleases us; rejoicing, on the other hand, is an act of the will.  It’s a decision made on the basis of things that we know to be true.

I don’t feel joy at every moment of my life.  I have crosses just like everybody else, and sometimes those crosses cause me to feel distress and sadness.  And I’m sure I am not unusual in this.  For most people on the planet, that’s life!

But regardless of how I’m feeling at any given moment, I can still make the decision to rejoice.  That is always a possibility.  I don’t have to rejoice, that’s true—and to be perfectly honest, sometimes I don’t in difficult circumstances—but I do have the capability to do it if I choose to.

Now, as I said earlier, choosing to rejoice needs to be based on what we know is true; it needs to be based on the realistic and great expectations we have of God, expectations which are rooted in our Catholic faith.  For example, regardless of how I may be feeling on a given day, I can still rejoice . . .

 

·         That Jesus does love me and will continue to love me, even if I sin seriously.

·         That Jesus will forgive me whenever I sincerely repent, and especially when I bring my sins to him in the sacrament of Confession. 

·         That Jesus will always hear my prayer and respond to it.

·         That Jesus is always there for me in the Holy Eucharist.

Those are some of the things I can rejoice about—even on my worst days.  That’s because I have great expectations of God: I expect him to always love me; I expect him to forgive me when I repent—that’s why he sent his Son to die for me; I expect him to supply my needs when I ask him to in prayer (not my wants, but my needs); and I expect Jesus to be there for me every time I receive him in the Eucharist, based on his promises to me in Sacred Scripture.

And here’s some really good news: Sometimes when you’re not feeling so great but you make the decision to rejoice in the Lord anyway, you end up feeling at least a little bit better!

When our great expectations of God motivate us to rejoice, sometimes our emotions follow.

That’s an added bonus when it happens—an added bonus for which we should thank God, and another reason for which we can—and should—rejoice!

 

Heeding John the Baptist’s Call to Repentance

 

(Second Sunday of Advent (C): This homily was given on December 8, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Baruch 5:1-9; Psalm 126:1-6; Philippians 1:4-6, 8-11; Luke 3:1-6.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Second Sunday of Advent 2024]

 

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,

Which was my sin, though it were done before?

Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run,

And do run still, though still I do deplore?

When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

For I have more.

 

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won

Others to sin? And made my sin their door?

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun

A year or two, but wallowed in a score?

When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

For I have more.

 

Those words are taken from John Donne’s poem, entitled “Hymn to God the Father.”  I share them with you today because this is the Second Sunday of Advent, and on this particular Sunday of the liturgical year we come face to face with John the Baptist.  Always!  It doesn’t matter whether we’re in year A, B or C of the cycle of readings—the gospel on the Second Sunday of Advent always concerns the life and ministry of John.  And why is that?  Simple: it’s because John the Baptist teaches us how much we need Jesus!  When he preached and taught on the banks of the Jordan River two thousand years ago, John challenged people to take an honest look at their lives and face their sins.  That’s because he wanted them to be ready to receive Jesus; he wanted them to understand the need they had for Jesus.  Lest we forget, the name Jesus means “Savior”.  That’s why he was born into the world on Christmas Day; that’s why he died on the cross: IN ORDER TO SAVE US FROM OUR SINS!  But many people at the time of John the Baptist weren’t in touch with their sins.  The Pharisees, for example, didn’t recognize their pride and self-righteousness--which is one of the biggest reasons why they ended up rejecting our Lord. They didn’t accept John the Baptist’s message and admit their sins--consequently they didn’t think they needed a savior.  The same problem, not surprisingly, exists today: some people aren’t willing to admit that what they’re doing is wrong; consequently they think that Jesus is irrelevant.  For example, imagine a man who tells his wife that he’s having an affair and feels no guilt whatsoever about it.  (I use this example because I know of situations where this kind of thing has actually happened.)  That man, without a doubt, needs Jesus, but he doesn’t think that he does!  Which constitutes a major problem; because, until he admits his sin, he can’t receive the forgiveness of the Savior—the forgiveness Jesus died to give him.

And so the Church encourages us today to face John the Baptist and heed his call to repentance, as many did in the first century.  Which brings us back to John Donne’s poem: I would say that these are the words of a person who was beginning to take the message of the Baptist seriously.  The person saying these words was struggling with his sin, and also with the issue of forgiveness.  He wanted to know: would God, could God, possibly wash away his guilt?  We can learn a great deal, I believe, from his reflections. 

He begins by saying, “Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, which was my sin, though it were done before?”  Here the person is thinking of the sins of his distant past.  Like most of us he probably faced the temptation to ignore them and sweep them under the rug, hoping that they would just go away magically.  The problem is, they don’t just “go away”.  They need to be acknowledged and repented of, or they will continue to have a negative effect on our life.  That’s because the unrepented sins of the distant past, like it or not, have helped to make us the person we are right now.  This is why I always commend people when they come to confession and say, “Father, here’s something I’ve never confessed before.  I knew it was wrong when I did it, but I wasn’t willing to face that fact.  Now I realize how this sin has damaged my personality and my relationships with others, so I want to get rid of it.” 

Bravo!  Now, admittedly, this is not the perspective of many of the “experts” in our society right now.  They tell us not to worry about our sins--past or present. They tell us to focus only on the feelings of guilt that we have.  “Get rid of your guilty feelings,’ they tell us, ‘and everything will be all right.”  Well, it’s not quite that simple.  In fact, my brothers and sisters, if that were true—if the only thing that mattered in life was eliminating feelings of guilt—then we’d have to say that the healthiest people in the world right now, psychologically speaking, are the mass murderers and the serial killers, since these are people who feel no guilt whatsoever about the evil things they’ve done! 

I doubt that any of us would want to say that.  I sure wouldn’t!

John Donne’s poem continues: “Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run, and do run still, though still I do deplore?”  Every once in a while, someone will come to confession and say, in utter frustration, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.  Father, my sins are the same as last time, and the time before that, and the time before that.  Do you think God will be able to forgive me again for all this stuff?”  Well, that’s the very same question John Donne asks in this line of his poem; and the answer is “Yes.”  If we have at least imperfect contrition and a firm purpose of amendment when we receive the sacrament of Reconciliation, the Lord will forgive any sin we’ve committed--even if we’ve confessed it 1,000 times before.

“Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won others to sin? And made my sin their door?”  Here we encounter an important, but sometimes forgotten, truth: we are personally responsible not only for our own sins, but also for the sins that we’ve encouraged or enabled others to commit!  I know of some teenage girls, for example, who have had abortions, not because they wanted to (they did not want to), but rather because their parents forced them to!  Those parents bear the guilt of that sin, even though neither of them had the abortion.  We hear often of young people who encourage their friends to steal or commit acts of violence.  The ones who encourage the sin are as guilty as the ones who actually do the deed.

“Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun a year or two, but wallowed in a score?”  Sometimes people will avoid a sin for a long period of time--a year, or two, or longer--and then, sadly, fall back into it.  That’s usually the time when Satan speaks to their subconscious and tries to convince them to throw in the towel: “See, you blew it again!  It was only a matter of time!  I knew it!  Why bother repenting now?  You know that sooner or later you’ll fall into it again; so give up.”  Those are words, of course, that we should tune out, because Jesus Christ is faithful.  He has promised us forgiveness, and he will give us forgiveness, if we come to him with repentant hearts.  This is something, praise God, that John Donne came to realize, as he makes clear in the closing lines of his “Hymn to God the Father”.  I didn’t read those lines at the beginning of the homily, but I’ll read them now at the end, in the context of the entire work.  It’s my prayer at this Mass that these words will inspire us all to seek the Lord’s forgiveness very soon—especially in the sacrament of Reconciliation:

 

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,

Which was my sin, though it were done before?

Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run,

And do run still, though still I do deplore?

When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

For I have more.

 

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won

Others to sin? And made my sin their door?

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun

A year or two, but wallowed in a score?

When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

For I have more.

 

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun my last thread,

I shall perish on the shore;

But swear by thy self, that at my death thy Son

Shall shine as he shines now and heretofore;

And, having done that, thou hast done, I fear no more.

 

Interpreting ‘the Signs’

 

Ben Petrick

(First Sunday of Advent (C): This homily was given on December 1, 2024, at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Luke 21:25-28, 34-36.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: First Sunday of Advent 2024]

 

In his autobiography, entitled ‘Forty Thousand to One,’ Ben Petrick (more about who he is in a minute), wrote the following:

The [Colorado] Rockies send me to the Arizona Fall League.  [One day] I’m sitting in my apartment and typing on my computer, when I realize my left hand has a slight tremor and is trailing my right hand. I hold my hands up and wiggle my fingers, like a magician saying “Hocus Pocus.”  My left hand is significantly slower.

I soon notice that on long jogs, the toes on my left foot start to cramp.  I see a team doctor, who has no answer.  (‘Forty Thousand to One’, page 24.)

Well, that team doctor might not have an answer, but I sure do: “Ben Petrick, you have Parkinson’s Disease.”  And how do I know that (aside from the fact that I read his book)?

It’s because the 3 symptoms he mentions here—the hand tremor, the inability to type quickly, and the foot cramp when exercising—those are the very same primary symptoms that I had when I initially got diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2011 (which is noteworthy, because there are lots of other symptoms  of the disease that the two of us could have had, and which other people with the disease do have).

Ben Petrick, by the way, was a catcher, and a top professional baseball prospect in the mid-to-late 1990s.  Most experts thought that he was All-Star and possibly even Hall of Fame material.  He was that good.  But his career was over almost before it began, when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 1999—at the age of 22.

I should count my blessings that I didn’t get the disease until I was in my early 50s! 

I mention this today—I mention Ben Petrick and his current physical situation—to make a point about “signs”.

The Colorado Rockies’ team doctor who examined Ben in 1999 didn’t know what was wrong with him, because he did not know how to interpret the “signs”—that is to say, the symptoms—that he observed in Ben’s body.

But I do know how to interpret those signs!  (Quite frankly, I wish I didn’t, but I do!)  I know what they mean; I know their significance; I know where they point (which is right to Parkinson’s Disease!).

In today’s gospel, Jesus talks to us about other signs—other signs that we need to know how to interpret.  These are the signs of “the end”: the signs that will precede his second coming at the end of the world.  But since many of us—perhaps most or all of us—will not be around at the end of the world, these signs can and should be applied to the moment of our physical death, since that will be the moment when Jesus “comes again” to us, personally, to be our judge.

Jesus says, “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on earth nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.”

A couple of things to notice about what Jesus says there.  First of all, the signs he speaks of: celestial phenomena, turbulent seas, terrible storms—in other gospels he also mentions things like earthquakes and wars and rumors of wars—these realities are, to some extent, ALWAYS with us!  For example, we may not have hurricanes to deal with all the time (thank God!), but we do have some pretty nasty Nor’easters on a fairly regular basis!  And the same is true of most of these other signs.

And that’s precisely the point that Jesus is making here: Since these signs are, to some extent, always present, we need to live as if he could come again for us at any time.  Because he could!  We need to be vigilant; we need to be ready.  There’s an old song by Tim McGraw that has the line in it, “Live like you were dying.”  The song is about a man in his early 40s who gets diagnosed with a terminal illness.  His message to his son is to live life to the fullest on the natural level—to live, in other words, like you’re dying, like you don’t have a lot of time left here on this earth.

Well, as Catholics we would say that the same message could be applied—and should be applied—to the spiritual dimension of our lives, since our souls are immortal and therefore will live forever! 

Tim McGraw actually points to this truth about the need for ongoing spiritual reform and repentance in his song when the dying father sings the words, “I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter, and I gave forgiveness I’d been denying.”

It’s not a coincidence that this gospel is being read on the first Sunday of the season of Advent.  During this sacred time of the year, we are supposed to be focusing not only on buying gifts and preparing ourselves to commemorate the coming of Christ into the world 2000 years ago; we’re also supposed to be focusing on preparing ourselves to meet Jesus Christ when he comes for us again—either at the end of time or at the end of our earthly lives.

That’s why I’ll join Fr. Mahoney in hearing confessions on Thursdays and Saturdays for the next 3 weeks.

I just thought I’d mention that.

Let me close my homily today by pointing out that there are 3 different reactions that Jesus mentions in this gospel to these ever-present signs in the heavens and on earth.  The first is confusion; the second is fear; and the third is confidence.  Confusion and fear are experienced by those who do not know how to interpret the signs—and who consequently are not prepared for the Lord when he comes.  As Jesus puts it, “On earth nations will be in dismay, perplexed [i.e., confused] by the roaring of the sea and the waves.  People will die of fright [in other words, of fear] in anticipation of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.”

But the men and women who do know what the signs mean, and who respond to them with faith, and repentance, and a true conversion of heart can be confident—confident even in the midst of the chaos!  Jesus says to them here, “But when these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand.”

May the Lord bless us with that kind of confidence always, and especially at the end of our lives.

 

The Relativism of Pontius Pilate; the Relativism of Our World Today

(Christ the King (B): This homily was given on November 24, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read John 18:33-37.) 

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Christ the King 2024]

Imagine that Pontius Pilate had been interviewed by a newspaper reporter on Good Friday—right after he condemned Jesus to death (presuming, for a moment, that they had newspapers back then—which of course, they didn’t—you have to use your imagination here).

If the reporter had asked him, “Why?  Why did you do it, Pilate?  Why did you condemn Jesus of Nazareth to death, even though you knew that he was innocent of the charges they brought against him?” how do you think Pilate would have responded?

I’ll tell you what I believe he would have said.  I think he would have said something like this to that reporter: “Oh yes, I know that Jesus of Nazareth was innocent.  I have no doubt about that.  The chief priests and religious leaders of the Jews came to me and accused Jesus of being a political revolutionary and a threat to Caesar, but I could tell right away that this man was no threat.  He had no political aspirations whatsoever!  He was a little delusional, yes: he spoke about having a kingdom in some other world.  But there’s no crime in being delusional.  Now in most cases like this, I would let the accused go free immediately—but Jesus’ case was different.  In this particular situation, given the circumstances, I think it was right to do what I did.  Sure, I killed an innocent man—I know that; but there are times when killing the innocent can be the right course of action.  Think about it.  The people were ready to riot in the streets.  If that had happened, I would have ordered my soldiers to get the crowd under control, and probably a number of people would have died in the process—or at the very least many would have been injured.  So my act of condemning Jesus to death, as regrettable as it was, probably saved many lives.  And not only that, because I gave the crowd what they wanted, they probably have much more respect for me, and for my office, and for my authority as procurator.  Even though I’m a Roman—a foreigner, a Gentile—the Jews will probably think of me in a much more positive way in the future.  These are all good things that have come about because of the death of one innocent man named Jesus.  So it was well worth it.”

Pontius Pilate, my brothers and sisters, was what we would call “a moral relativist.”  A moral relativist is somebody who believes that, as the old saying goes, “everything is relative.”  In other words, there’s nothing that’s always right; there’s nothing that’s always wrong; there’s no such thing as objective moral truth. 

That’s precisely the way Pilate thought, which is why, when Jesus said to him, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice,” he responded by saying, “Truth?  What is that?”

For the relativist, right and wrong are determined by circumstances—or feelings—or personal preference—or some other subjective criterion.  For the relativist, what’s right for one person might not be right for somebody else.

Pope Benedict XVI was very vocal in his condemnation of moral relativism during his pontificate.  So was John Paul II, and so is Pope Francis today.  Even while he was still a Cardinal, Benedict called relativism “the greatest problem of our time.”  And he was not exaggerating!  Then, shortly after he became pope, he said, “Relativism, which recognize[s] nothing as definitive, leaves as the ultimate criterion only the self with its desires.”

And that, my brothers and sisters, is a prescription for conflict and disaster—in families and everywhere else in society—because it means that each person thinks that he or she should be able to live by his or her own rules.

Can you imagine a family where everyone lived by their own rules?  Can you imagine a country where everyone lived by their own rules?

Well, you might not have to imagine it in the near future, because that kind of country—that kind of world—is fast becoming a reality.

And it will become a reality unless we do something to stop it.

I hope it’s not news to anyone that our civil government is currently being run, to a great extent, by moral relativists: moral relativists of both parties, and of no party affiliation (the so-called “independents”).  Some of them will call themselves Catholic or Christian, but the policies and laws they support indicate an inner allegiance to relativism, not to Jesus Christ.  You know the people I’m talking about: the ones who say, “Oh yes, I am personally opposed to that, but I can’t impose my morality on anyone else”; or they say, “I am a Catholic, but . . . “

Believe me, Pontius Pilate would be extremely proud of these politicians, because those are precisely the kinds of things that he would say: “Yes, I am personally opposed to the death of Jesus of Nazareth, but I can’t impose my belief on this angry crowd in front of me”; “Yes, I am the Roman procurator who is supposed to make sure that justice is done, but in this case I think it’s okay to dispense with justice.” 

A relativistic world is a very dangerous world—because, since there are no universal moral laws, evil people will very often go unpunished (sometimes they will even be rewarded), and good people will often be condemned.

Just like Jesus.

By the way, as far as I’m concerned, moral relativism can very easily be refuted with one simple question.  If you ever encounter a relativist who says to you, “There’s nothing that’s always right; there’s nothing that’s always wrong; there’s no such thing as objective moral truth; it’s all relative,” say to that person, “Okay, then answer me one simple question: When would it be morally permissible to rape a child?  You’ve just told me that there are no moral absolutes, and that everything depends on circumstances.  Well, alright, under what circumstances would that behavior be morally acceptable?”

Unless you’re having a conversation with a mentally deranged individual, this should help the other person to see that there is at least one universal moral norm.

And, of course, if there’s one universal moral norm, why can’t there be others?

Chris Stefanick, who speaks to teenagers all over the country, has written a great little booklet entitled, “Absolute Relativism: The New Dictatorship and What to Do About It.”  In it he lists 8 bad effects of relativistic thinking.  I’ll conclude my homily today by sharing these with you: 

1.    Relativism robs us of a sense of meaning.  [That should be obvious.  If there’s no right and wrong, then it doesn’t matter what we do here on earth.  Thus there can be no ultimate consequences to our good and evil behavior.  So life is essentially meaningless.]

2.    Relativism leaves us with no criterion for moral decision-making but personal taste.

3.    Relativism deprives children of formation.  [You can’t teach your children right from wrong if there is nothing that’s objectively right and nothing that’s objectively wrong.  You can teach them your opinion, but that’s about it.]

4.    Relativism separates us from one another.  [As I said earlier, if we each do our own thing, we will be in constant conflict with one another.]

5.    Relativism undermines the right to life.  [The example of Pilate’s condemnation of Jesus shows us that.  As a relativist, Pilate had no problem robbing an innocent man of his right to life.  None whatsoever.]

6.    Relativism makes it easy for those in authority to manipulate others.  [Think, for example, of those in the federal government who want to force Catholic hospitals to perform abortions and provide other immoral services.]

7.    Relativism puts the freedom of speech under attack.  [If those in power decide that you should not be allowed to voice your opinion, that will be the law and there will be no arguing against it.]

8.    And, finally, relativism destroys faith.  [That, also, should be obvious.  After all, if nothing about God is objectively true, then the whole basis of our religious practice goes right out the window!]

So my message to you today is very simple: Learn to recognize relativism, and learn to resist it—to actively resist it!

And teach your children and grandchildren and siblings and friends and co-workers to do the same thing, for their own sakes, and also for the survival of our country.