The Holy Family: Three Lives with the Same Center

Holy Family 2024 (C): This homily was given on December 29, 2024, at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14; Psalm 128:1-5; Colossians 3:12-21; Luke 2:41-52.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Holy Family 2024]

 

I remember hearing a talk back in the mid-1990s by Dr. Peter Kreeft, who at the time was a professor of philosophy at Boston College.  In this talk he outlined what he called, “Satan’s seven-step sexual strategy.”  This was his explanation of how the devil was currently working in the world to destroy families and ultimately the whole human race.  At the time I thought Dr. Kreeft was right on target in his analysis—and 30 years later I still think his insights are valid.  So here’s the strategy:

Step 1—this is the devil’s ultimate goal: winning souls for hell.  Step 2: In order for Satan to win many souls for hell, society must be corrupted.  Step 3: To effectively destroy society, family life must be undermined--because strong families are necessary in order to have strong societies.  Step 4: In order to destroy the family, you must destroy its foundation, which is stable marriage.  Step 5: Marriage is destroyed by loosening its glue, which is sexual fidelity.  Step 6: Fidelity is destroyed by promoting and defending the sexual revolution.  Step 7: The sexual revolution is promoted and defended by the media--through which the seeds of destruction are sown into the minds of millions of people every day.

Now I wish I could stand here and tell you that Satan’s strategy has failed miserably in the three decades since Dr. Kreeft gave this talk—but I can’t do that.  That would be a lie.  Tragically, the devil has been incredibly successful.  For example, I don’t think Dr. Kreeft could even have imagined in the mid-90s that for a large segment of our society in 2024 words like marriage and gender and family no longer mean what they’ve meant for thousands of years.

Confusion is a very effective tool of the devil (Dr. Kreeft makes that clear in his seven steps) and right now confusion reigns in our culture.  What, for example, do you call a transgendered person?  Which name do you use?  What do you put on an application form in the space where you’re asked to give your “sex”?  If you’re conceived through IVF, who are your parents?  Is it the sperm donor?  Is it the surrogate?  Is it the man and woman you live with?  Is it the scientist who fertilized the egg in the petri dish?  Is it some of these people, or is it all of these people?  In one way or another, are they all your parents?

We are so confused!  However we need to be clear about it: the confusion is not from God!

Thankfully those of us who are Catholic don’t have to live in this confusion—if we center our lives on God and his revealed truth.  Which is one of the great lessons we learn from the Holy Family!  Jesus, Mary and Joseph lived lives of (to quote today’s second reading) “heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”  They weren’t confused about right and wrong the way people today are.  That’s because they all had God and his truth at the center of their lives.  Their common ambition was to serve the Lord and do his will.

They had problems like we all do.  They faced tense situations in their family, as every family does.  We heard about one of those situations in today’s gospel reading from Luke 2.  But the fact that God and his truth were at the center of things made a huge difference in how they dealt with these challenging situations.

Notice, for example, what happened when Mary and Joseph finally found Jesus after searching for him for three days.  Mary said to our Lord, “Son, why have you done this to us?  Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.”  Jesus responded, “Why were you looking for me?  Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

Now, did you notice something missing from that exchange?  I did—anger!  There was no anger in Mary’s question; there was no anger in Jesus’ answer.  And also note: after Jesus said that he had to be in his Father’s house, the conversation ended.  There’s no record of anything else being said.  I think there’s a reason for that: Even though Mary and Joseph didn’t fully understand our Lord’s response, it was enough for them to know that he was serving the heavenly Father.

He did what he did to serve God the Father, and that was a sufficient explanation for Mary and Joseph.  It was sufficient because they had the very same desire in their hearts!  Their lives were also centered on doing God’s will.  And so a scene, which could have been very ugly, wasn't.  The harmony of the Holy Family was not disrupted, although it very easily could have been.

And here's where we see the application to our families.  The three members of the Holy Family shared a common commitment to God, and that's why they had peace and harmony in their relationships—even in difficult and stressful situations.  They had a common center to their lives, and everything else revolved around that common focus.  In today's families, unfortunately, God is not always the common focal point.  Dad's life might be centered on work, mom's might be as well.  One child's life might be centered on sports; another child's life might be centered on music; another child's life might be centered on something else.  That is definitely not the formula for peace in a household—and for avoiding the mental and moral confusion that’s now rampant in our culture.  Rather, it’s the formula for alienation and more confusion. 

So today we all need to ask ourselves: what (or who) really is at the center of my life?  And if we discover that what’s at the center right now is not God and his truth, then we need to make a change--for our own sake, certainly, but also for the sake of our family.

 

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.