[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Pentecost 2012]
If you were trying to decide
whether or not it would be a good idea to apply to a certain college—for
example, to my alma mater, PC—how would you proceed? What would be your thought process? In other words, how would you judge the value
of a Providence College education, and whether it’s worth investing in? Would you make that judgment based on someone
you know who partied from the first day he arrived on campus and who finally flunked
out in his junior year? Or would you
make your assessment based on other people you know who graduated from PC with
honors and then went on to do great things in the world?
If you were trying to decide
whether or not to become a doctor, how would you evaluate the medical
profession as a whole? Would you
evaluate it by the bad doctors you know, or by all the good doctors you know?
If you were trying to decide
whether or not marriage was a worthy vocation worth pursuing, how would you do
it? Would you focus your attention
primarily on the people you know who are in bad, unhappy marriages, or would
you focus your attention primarily on the people you know who are in good,
solid, happy marriages?
Pretty easy questions, right?
Well, that’s okay; they’re meant
to be easy questions—easy questions which illustrate a very important truth: We almost always evaluate things in this life
by looking at the best, not the worst.
To properly assess the value of a
Providence College education, you need to focus on the best and most
intelligent graduates of PC that you know—not on those who flunked out!
To properly evaluate the medical
profession, you need to look at the good doctors in your life, not the bad
ones.
And to properly assess the
goodness and dignity of the vocation of marriage, it’s imperative that you
focus your attention first and foremost on those who are living that vocation
well, not on those whose marriages are on the rocks.
We almost always evaluate things in this life by looking at the best,
not the worst.
But notice I say “almost always.”
That’s because there is at least
one institution on planet earth right now which is normally evaluated not by
its best members, but by its worst members, its absolute worst members.
And you all belong to it! It’s called “the Church.”
- When priests are talked about in secular society, for example, (especially in the media) the focus is almost always on the 4% who are bad, not on the 96% who are good. Most of the time the 96% don’t even get mentioned! It’s as if they don’t exist.
- When the history of the Church is spoken of or written about, the focus is almost always on the terrible sins that some members of the Church have committed over the centuries, and not on the billions and billions of loving acts that the majority of Catholics have performed over the same period of time in the name of Jesus Christ.
- And when people who have left the Church or given up the practice of their faith want to make their point and justify themselves, what do they say? They say, “All those Catholics who go to church—they’re all the same; they’re a bunch of phonies; they’re a bunch of hypocrites.”
It’s nice to be loved, isn’t it?
Now, as baptized, believing
Catholics I don’t think we should be looking for any kind of special treatment
in this regard. But I do think that we
have the right to be judged and evaluated like everyone else is judged and
evaluated: by our best
representatives, not our worst.
And that’s great, because our
best representatives are literally the greatest people who ever lived—the saints!
And who were the saints?
Very simply, the saints were
ordinary people—like us—who allowed the
Holy Spirit to transform their lives in a radical way. For them, Pentecost wasn’t simply a
liturgical feast that was celebrated once a year; rather, it was an experience
they lived throughout the year!
Just think of the apostles. Before Pentecost, Peter, for example, was a
hot-headed, impulsive coward, who couldn’t even defend Jesus to a servant girl
in the high priest’s courtyard on Holy Thursday night. After Pentecost, as we see in Acts 2 (where
today’s first reading is taken from), Peter was—by the power of the Spirit—a
level-headed, faith-filled man of incredible conviction and fortitude, who was
willing to defend Jesus to anybody, regardless of the consequences.
Thomas went from super-doubter to
super-missionary and martyr—by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Before he experienced his own
personal Pentecost—beginning on the road to Damascus—Saul of Tarsus was, by his
own admission, “a blasphemer, a persecutor, a man filled with arrogance”
(that’s how he described himself in his first letter to Timothy). But by the power of the Holy Spirit, he was
transformed into the loving St. Paul,
who wrote—and who lived—the message
of love that we find in 1 Corinthians 13 (that beautiful text that you hear so
often at weddings).
Today is a day to invite the Holy
Spirit into our lives more fully, to transform us as he transformed these men
2,000 years ago—and as he transformed the many other saints of Church history.
Now you might ask, “Fr. Ray, why
do we need a fuller outpouring of the Spirit in our lives? Haven’t we already received the Spirit in
Baptism and Confirmation?”
Well, yes, we have.
But, lest we forget, the Holy
Spirit is God, and God is eternal. Hence, there’s always more of his life and
grace that we can receive—if we desire it and are open to it.
All it takes is a simple and
sincere prayer. Begin it with the words,
“Come, Holy Spirit,” and then ask for what you believe you need: a deeper
faith, a stronger hope, a more fervent charity—whatever.
And don’t just ask the Spirit
today; pray to him often—like the great saints did.
And one final point: Remember to
tell your friends who are critical of Catholicism that they should evaluate our
religion by the best people in
the Church, not the worst; by the people who truly have lived the message the
Church proclaims; by the people who have lived their lives in the power of the Holy
Spirit: people like the apostles, Blessed Mother Teresa, Catherine of Siena,
Blessed John Paul II—and hopefully, someday, you and me.