The Importance of Reflecting on What God has Done for us in the Past

(Twelfth Sunday of the Year (B):  This homily was given on June 23, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Job 38:1-11; 2 Corinthians 5:14-17; Mark 4:35-41.)

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

Here’s an important fact about today’s gospel story: Jesus was there.  In the midst of the storm on the Sea of Galilee, Jesus was there.  Now why is that one fact so significant?  Simple: because the mere presence of Jesus in the boat was not enough to keep the apostles from losing control.  Even though they knew that the Lord was with them, they still were consumed by fear.

For us, this means that merely believing in God is not enough to deal with the difficulties of life; just believing that God is there is not sufficient.

So what was the missing element for Peter, James, John and the other disciples?  Well, Jesus identifies that element himself, immediately after he calms the wind and the waves: the missing element was faith—a deep, living faith!  And notice the tone of our Lord’s words here: I would say it’s rather harsh.  Jesus says, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?”  It’s as if he were saying, “You men should know better.  There’s no reason for you to be acting this way.” 

Was Jesus being a bit too demanding?  Was he expecting too much from these twelve ordinary, weak human beings?

For the answers to those questions we need to take note of where this story occurs in the Gospel of Mark: it comes at the very end of the fourth chapter.  That means that these disciples had known Jesus for a while.  They had been in his company for quite some time.  And here are some of the things they had seen Jesus do with their own eyes during the days that they had been with him (all these events I’m about to mention are found in the first three chapters of Mark): they had seen Jesus cast a demon out of a man in a synagogue; they had seen Jesus heal Simon Peter’s mother-in-law; they had seen him heal a man with a withered hand; they had seen him heal a leper, a paralyzed man and countless other people; they had seen him perform many exorcisms; and they had seen him convert the hearts of many sinners—like Levi the tax collector (better known to us as Matthew).

So when Jesus took them to task on the Sea of Galilee after he calmed the storm, I think his message was, “My friends, after all the great things you’ve seen with your own eyes, you still don’t trust me?  You still don’t think I’ll be there for you to give you what you need?  You should know better!”

The apostles lacked a deep faith in the present moment because they were out of touch with what God had done in the past.

The very same thing, believe it or not, can happen to us.  This is why we need to reflect quite often on how the Lord has helped us deal with difficulties in our past.  That type of reflection can lead to a deeper faith in the present moment.  And so I ask you this morning: do you ever sit down and meditate on God’s activity in your life thus far?  God has brought many of us through some very difficult times.  He’s helped some of us to deal with sickness, abuse, tragedy, and the death of loved ones.  By his grace (and by his grace alone) we’ve survived.  And so our attitude should be, “Well, Lord, since you’ve helped me so often in the past, I believe you’ll do the very same thing for me now, in the midst of my present problems.”  That should have been the attitude of the disciples in the midst of the storm on the Sea of Galilee.  If it had been their perspective, they would have been peaceful and not fearful; they would have remembered how Jesus had helped the leper and the paralyzed man and all the rest, and they would have thought to themselves, “Jesus gave those people what they needed, so he will certainly give us what we need right now.  He will help us.”

“I remember the deeds of the Lord, I remember your wonders of old.  I meditate on all your works and ponder your mighty deeds.”  That’s what the writer of Psalm 77 did when he found himself in the midst of a difficult situation.  May God give us the wisdom and resolve to do the very same thing, so that we will have a strong and deep faith in the midst of the storms that we face in our lives.

 

The ‘Sowing’ Father

 

(Eleventh Sunday of the Year (B): This homily was given on June 16, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Ezekiel 17: 22-24; Psalm 92; 2 Corinthians 5: 6-10; Mark 4: 26-34.)

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

 

What’s grown depends on what’s sown.

That’s a truth that all farmers and gardeners understand based on their experiences of farming and gardening.  When a farmer plants a field of corn, for example, he doesn’t expect to reap a harvest of tomatoes (at least not in that particular field).  When a gardener plants some geranium seeds in the flowerbed in front of her house, she doesn’t expect petunias to grow there.

“Fr. Ray, this is common sense.”

Yes, it is—at least when it comes to corn and tomatoes and geraniums and petunias and other plants that are grown from seeds.  But the thing is, this principle (What’s grown depends on what’s sown) applies to other areas of life besides farming and gardening. 

And in many of those other areas of life, sad to say, the truth is not so obvious to a lot of people.  Either they’re unable—or unwilling—to see the connection between certain ideas that are “sown” into the minds of modern men and women, and the actions that result from (or you might say “grow from”) those ideas.  Jesus understood the connection better than anyone, which is why he used the analogy of seeds in this gospel text we just heard from Mark 4.

This connection between the ideas that are sown in a person’s mind and the actions that flow from those ideas was made in a powerful way back in the 1980s, in an anti-drug public service ad that appeared on television.  I’m sure some of you remember it: 

The ad begins with the shot of a teenage boy in his bedroom.  The boy is reclining on his bed, with headphones on, happily listening to his stereo.  His father then barges into the room, obviously angry, with a box in his hand—a box that has various types of drug paraphernalia in it.  Dad turns off the stereo and says to the boy, “This yours?”  He replies, “No.”  His dad says, “Your mother said she found it in your closet.”  The boy suddenly gets really nervous, and starts to stumble over his words as he desperately tries to maintain his innocence.  Dad, of course, isn’t buying any of it.  Finally the father says, angrily, “Answer me!  Who taught you to do this stuff?”  His son shouts out, “YOU, ALRIGHT?  I LEARNED IT FROM WATCHING YOU!”

The ad ends with the announcer saying, “Parents who use drugs have children who use drugs.”

That’s a perfect example of a father who sowed “bad seed” into the heart and mind of his son.  He did it not so much by his words, but by his actions.  And then he acted surprised when he encountered bad fruit in his son’s life.

He should not have been surprised.  That’s exactly what he should have expected.

And speaking of fathers, I think it’s providential that we have this gospel reading about seeds and their growth on Father’s Day weekend.  I say it’s providential because we’ve got a real cultural problem right now, and fathers (along with mothers) have an indispensable role to play in helping to solve it.

Think of some of the ideas that have been “sown” into the minds of young people during the last six decades or so.  Ideas such as: 

·         It’s your body and you should be able to do whatever you want with it.

·         Self-indulgence and having lots of stuff leads to happiness.

·         You should be able to decide for yourself what’s right and what’s wrong.

·         When it comes to sex, almost anything goes.

·         Freedom means doing what you want to do, not what you ought to do. 

·         Feelings matter more than facts.  So do what you feel like doing.

·         There are no moral absolutes; everything is relative.

Do those ideas sound familiar?  They should.  Those are some of the seeds—the really BAD seeds—the seeds of destruction—that have been “planted” in the minds of Americans (young and old) on a daily basis for at least the last 60 years—especially in our schools, in our universities, in the arts, and in the mainstream media.

And now we’re reaping the tragic harvest.  The gun violence we’ve seen in schools in recent years is just one example of the bad fruit that’s come from all this.

There’s an old saying: “Sow a thought, reap an action; sow an action, reap a habit; sow a habit, reap a character; sow a character, reap a destiny.”

The destiny (the eternal destiny) of our young people ultimately will be rooted in the way they think. And the way they think will, to a great extent, be determined by the seeds (the ideas) that get planted in them—especially by their parents. 

That’s one reason why the Church teaches that parents are to be the primary religious educators of their children.  And today moms and dads really need to take that job seriously, because if they don’t—if they don’t sow good seeds into the minds of their children—the world will be more than happy to sow the bad seeds I mentioned a few moments ago.  And lots of others as well.

On this Father’s Day I would be remiss if I didn’t thank the Lord for the good seeds my dad sowed into my mind—especially during the final year of his life.  He died of cancer back in 1971 when I was fourteen years old.  His last year was difficult; he suffered a lot.  But as tough as that last year was, it was also a time of great blessing.  During his final months, my dad and I did what we had rarely done before: we had some great father-son talks—about all kinds of issues.  I remember one of the things he often spoke about was the importance of getting a good education—which I did. 

That little mustard seed of advice that I took to heart has borne a lot of good fruit in my life.  And he taught me by his actions.  During most of his final year he wasn’t able to work, so he began to go to daily Mass.  And he continued for as long as he was physically able to do so.  That planted another good seed in my mind.  His going to daily Mass taught me that when you experience a suffering like cancer in your life you shouldn’t turn away from God, you should turn toward him.

That little lesson has come in handy many times over the years—and especially since I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease and two forms of cancer.

As I said at the beginning of my homily: What’s grown depends on what’s sown.

With that truth in mind, I want to end this morning by offering a special prayer for all the fathers here present.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, you have called all fathers to be sowers in this life: sowers of truth, sowers of goodness, sowers of love.  On this Father’s Day we ask you to give these fathers the grace they need to be the best of sowers.  By their words—and even more importantly by their deeds—may they help their children to get on (and to stay on) the road that will bring them someday into your eternal and glorious kingdom.  This we ask through the same Christ, our Lord.  Amen.

 

The Health of a Body Determines its Ability to Process Natural Food; the Health of a Soul Determines its Ability to Process SPIRITUAL FOOD (i.e., the Holy Eucharist!)

 

(Corpus Christi 2024 (B): This homily was given on June 2, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Exodus 24:3-8; Psalm 116:12-18; Hebrews 9:11-15; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; Mark 14:12-26.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Corpus Christi 2024]

 

The health of a body determines its ability to process natural food.  This is a truth we all understand, but probably don’t think about too often.

I am reminded of this every time I’m called to anoint someone at Westerly Hospital or in one of our local nursing homes—someone whose health is deteriorating rapidly.

At those times members of the sick person’s family will sometimes ask me what the Church teaches about end-of-life issues.  For example:  When is a person morally obligated to undergo a certain medical treatment, and when is it morally permissible to say no to that same treatment?  What’s the difference between extraordinary and ordinary means of maintaining or restoring health?  Are we morally obligated as Catholics to do everything we can to stay alive, even if there’s little or no reasonable expectation of recovery (barring a miracle)?

I do my best to answer those questions for them—always making sure that I deal with the very important topic of nutrition and hydration.  Back in 2007, the Bishops of the United States asked Rome to clarify whether or not feeding and giving water to a sick and dying person were to be considered extraordinary or ordinary means of care.  (That’s a very important issue because we’re only morally obliged to use ordinary means.)  The Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith answered by saying that food and hydration are ALWAYS to be considered ORDINARY MEANS.

ALWAYS!

This means it is never morally permissible to withdraw food and water from someone, EVEN IF THOSE THINGS HAVE TO BE ADMINISTERED BY ARTIFICIAL MEANS—unless the dying person’s body is shutting down, and is no longer able to process them (which does happen when a person is very close to death).

That’s a crucial teaching for us to be clear about, because, in all honesty, I think some doctors withdraw these things much too quickly these days—such that the person’s death certificate should actually read that they died of “malnutrition and dehydration” and not from whatever illness they had.

Let me read to you now what it says about this in our diocesan end of life guidelines booklet: “Food and fluids should always be provided until it is found that the organs can no longer assimilate them, a sign of the onset of natural death.”

I share this with you today, not to give a full-blown teaching on end-of-life decision making, but rather to illustrate the truth I stated at the beginning of my homily: The health of a body determines its ability to process natural food. 

When our bodies are in good health, natural food has its proper effect: it nourishes us and makes us strong.  But when a person is seriously ill and very close to death, their bodily systems begin to shut down, and natural food—even the best natural food on the planet—has no positive effect.  Because the person is so sick, their body can no longer process the nourishment—even if it’s given artificially through a feeding tube.

Not surprisingly, there’s a spiritual parallel here, which relates directly to the Holy Eucharist.  St. Paul reminds us of the reality of the Eucharist in his first letter to the Corinthians when he says, “I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over, took bread, and, after he had given thanks, broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you.  Do this in remembrance of me.’  In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood.  Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’”

St. Paul makes it very clear there: the Eucharist is NOT a symbol!  After the words of consecration are spoken by the priest at Mass, the bread and the wine, become, substantially, the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!

That’s what every Catholic is supposed to believe.

And yet, people have very different experiences when they receive the Blessed Sacrament, don’t they?  For some, it’s a deeply spiritual experience that strengthens them to live the gospel more faithfully in the world; but, for others, sad to say, it’s an experience that means little or nothing.  They’re no better—no more loving, or patient or forgiving or compassionate—after they receive than they were before they received.  And many people have an experience that’s somewhere in the middle of those two extremes.

Why the difference?  Why do some people experience such incredible blessings through their reception of the Eucharist, and others experience very few blessings or none at all? 

I would explain the difference by saying that what’s true of the body is also true of the soul.  As I said a few moments ago, the health of a body determines its ability to process natural food.   Well, by the same token, the health of a soul determines its ability to process spiritual food (i.e., the Eucharist!).  A healthy soul is open and receptive to the graces of Holy Communion; a sick soul is not.

This means that the level of our spiritual health ultimately determines our ability to profit spiritually (and even physically and emotionally) from our reception of the Blessed Sacrament.  For example, if we’re in the state of mortal sin because we’ve missed a Sunday or a holy day Mass without a good reason, or because we’ve committed a serious sexual sin, or because we’ve committed some other serious offence like harboring intense hatred for another person, then it profits us nothing to receive Holy Communion.  In fact, by receiving in that spiritual condition we’re actually committing another serious sin—the sin of sacrilege!

This is why St. Paul said, in 1 Corinthians 11:28, “A man should examine himself first; only then should he eat of the bread and drink of the cup.”

But it even goes beyond this.  The level of our spiritual health at the time we receive Holy Communion is also determined by the quality of our relationship with God—a relationship that we’re supposed to develop and work on every day.  (That’s something Fr. Najim has been reminding us of for the last 8 years.)

It’s likewise determined by whether or not we approach the altar with expectant faith—believing that Jesus really is present and will give us the graces we need for our daily lives.

And it’s determined by what we do after we receive!  If we walk right out of church, or if we don’t pray and pray fervently, then we should not expect to experience many blessings through the Blessed Sacrament.  To use a biblical expression, we will “squander what we have received.”

Some of you will recall the acronym I shared a several years ago which can guide us in our post-Communion prayer.  I heard this once from another priest and thought it was really good.  The acronym is ALTAR.  The “A” in altar stands for ADORATION: we should spend some time after Communion adoring Jesus—praising Jesus—from our heart.  The “L” in altar stands for LOVE: we should then tell the Lord that we love him, and that we want to love him more.  The “T” in altar stands for THANKSGIVING: we should then spend some time thanking God for all the blessings he has given us (and he has given us all many graces and blessings!).  The second “A” in altar stands for ASK (which is the only thing some people do when they pray)—but actually asking should come only after we’ve given the Lord praise, professed our love for him, and spent some serious time thanking him.  That brings us to the final letter in the word altar—the “R”—which stands for RESOLUTION.  At every Mass we should make a resolution: a resolution to be better—to be different—to be more faithful to God in some way—through the grace we receive in the Blessed Sacrament.

Remember, just as the health of a body determines its ability to process natural food, so too the health of a soul determines its ability to process spiritual food (i.e., the Eucharist!).

Today at this Mass, therefore, we should pray for good health—good health for ourselves and good health for one another: good physical health, yes—but even more importantly, good health for our souls, so that we will all be greatly blessed EVERY time we receive Holy Communion.