What ‘Experience’ Taught the Prodigal Son

(Fourth Sunday of Lent (C):  This homily was given on March 27, 2022 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Joshua 5:9-12; Psalm 34:2-7; Psalm 34:2-7; 2 Corinthians 5:17-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Fourth Sunday of Lent 2022]

 

They say that experience is the best teacher.

Well that’s certainly the way it was for the prodigal son.  This boy learned a lot—about himself, about his family, and about life in general—through the experiences that he had between the time he left home with his inheritance and the time he returned home without it.

He learned, first of all, that no sins are unforgivable!  And that was a crucial lesson for him to learn, because I don’t think he believed his sins could be forgiven!  Now that’s somewhat understandable, because in leaving as he did, he knew that he had decisively cut himself off from his father and from his family.  Notice that the passage says that this boy took “all his belongings.”  He took them all because he never intended to go back!  And that’s why his dad said he was “dead”.  He wasn’t physically dead; he was spiritually dead! 

In theological terms, he had committed a mortal sin.  (Actually, from the way the story is told, it seems that he had committed a number of mortal sins!)  Remember what a mortal sin is: it’s one that cuts us off from God the Father and from the sanctifying grace that comes to us through our spiritual family, the Church.  Or, as the Catechism puts it: “Mortal sin destroys charity in the heart of man by a grave violation of God’s law; it turns man away from God, who is his ultimate end and his beatitude, by preferring an inferior good to him.”  (CCC, 1855)

The prodigal son didn’t think he could be forgiven for his many mortal sins; he just hoped that he could be “tolerated” by his father for what he had done.  But he soon learned that his father’s mercy was greater than all the evils he had committed.

Hopefully we learn that very same lesson every time we go to Confession.  On that note, when was the last time you went?  Thankfully, there’s still time to go during this season of Lent.

It’s important to mention Confession in this context because another thing the prodigal son learned by experience was that reconciliation with his dad wasn’t automatic.  It wasn’t something that was “just going to happen”.  After breaking his relationship with his father, he realized that he needed to do something to repair the damage: specifically, he needed to go to his dad and verbally acknowledge his guilt—which he did: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.”

Well that’s precisely what we do in Confession, is it not?  We go to our heavenly Father, through the priest, and verbally acknowledge the evil we have done, as well as the good we have failed to do (in other words, our sins of commission and our sins of omission).

In the experience of going to his dad and verbalizing his guilt, the prodigal son learned yet another lesson: He learned that his father was looking for a reason not to give him what he deserved!  This boy knew he deserved punishment—severe punishment; he knew that he deserved to be permanently excluded from the family (“Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.  I no longer deserve to be called your son.”)

The father, thankfully, ignored that last remark and welcomed his wayward son home. 

By showing sincere repentance and acknowledging his sin, the prodigal son gave his dad a reason—a great reason—not to give him what he deserved.

Which, as we heard a few moments ago, greatly upset his older brother!  I find it very interesting, the father in this story (who obviously represents God the Father) looks for a reason not to give his prodigal son what he deserves, whereas it’s pretty clear that the older boy wants to see his prodigal brother get exactly what he deserves (and perhaps a little extra as well!).

That fact says a lot about the difference between God and us.  I think most people, in similar circumstances, would feel like that older son felt.

In addition to all the lessons he learned about repentance, mercy and forgiveness, the prodigal son also learned a few other things.  For example, he learned, through his experience, that sometimes suffering can be a blessing in disguise!  Think about it: if he had not spent all that time with Porky Pig and his friends in that filthy pigsty, he probably would never have re-established his relationship with his dad!  In all likelihood, the two would have remained disconnected for the rest of their lives.  But his suffering woke him up, and motivated him to go back to his father in a spirit of sincere repentance.  And that was a great blessing.

I encourage you to try to think of that the next time you experience a terrible suffering in your life: it can be the source of some very special graces.

THE PRODIGAL SON also learned to be grateful.  He learned to be grateful for the many blessings he had enjoyed in his father’s house—blessings that he had obviously taken for granted earlier in his life.  In fact, that’s one of the reasons he left his dad in the first place: he didn’t realize he had it so good!

SO OBVIOUSLY HE ALSO LEARNED THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY; HE LEARNED THAT PEOPLE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THINGS; HE LEARNED THAT HE COULD NOW CHANGE HIS LIFE AND BECOME A HOLY AND MERCIFUL PERSON (he learned that from the great example of his dad); AND HE LEARNED ABOUT THE DESTRUCTIVE POWER OF PRIDE AND ANGER (he received that lesson, unfortunately, from the very bad example of his older brother).

Of course, it’s one thing to learn all this from your past experience; it’s quite another thing to apply it in the present moment for the sake of your future!  I pray today that the prodigal son did both: that he learned these lessons by his experience of sin and repentance, and that he then allowed these lessons to have a positive impact on him for the rest of his life.

If he did, then he certainly became a saint—and in that he becomes a great example for all of us to try to follow.

Pilate and Putin: Two of a Kind

 

(Third Sunday of Lent (C): This homily was given on March 20, 2022 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Exodus 3:1-15; Psalm 103:1-11; 1 Cor 6:1-6, 10-12; Luke 13:1-9.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Third Sunday of Lent 2022]

They’re two of a kind.  As far as I’m concerned, they both belong in the same category of people.

The first person in this less-than-stellar duo is Pontius Pilate.  We heard about him in our gospel reading today from Luke 13.  There Jesus speaks about a horrid event that had recently taken place. Apparently Pilate had some Galileans murdered, and then mixed their blood with the blood of the animals they were offering in sacrifice.  Now, as grotesque as that may sound, it was actually rather typical of Pilate’s behavior as procurator.  Josephus, the Jewish historian of the time, tells us that Pilate also had some Samaritans murdered on Mt. Gerazim when they were engaged in a religious service.  On another occasion, he killed a number of Jews who voiced their disapproval when he stole money from the Temple treasury to build an aqueduct in Jerusalem.

Although the gospel writers “soften” their portrayal of him on Good Friday, it’s clear from the historical record that Pontius Pilate was a man consumed with power.  He greatly enjoyed flaunting his authority in the face of others.  He even did it with our Lord during the Passion, when he said to him, “Don’t you know that I have the power to release you and the power to crucify you?”

It’s also clear from Scripture that Pilate was a skeptic.  When Jesus said to him, “For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth hears my voice,” the procurator immediately responded, “Truth, what is that?” 

Pilate was also a moral weakling.  For lack of a better term, he was a spineless wimp!  He knew Jesus was innocent, but he didn’t have the guts to acquit him and let him go.  And so he ended up becoming the poster-boy for all those men and women throughout history who have said “I am personally opposed, but . . .” In the Gospel of Matthew we read, “Pilate called for water and washed his hands in front of the crowd, declaring, ‘I am innocent of the blood of this just man.  The responsibility is yours.”  Let me now modify that line for you ever so slightly: “Pilate called for water and washed his hands in front of the crowd, declaring, ‘I am personally opposed to the death of Jesus of Nazareth, but . . . he will be crucified anyway.’”

I said at the beginning that they’re “two of a kind.”  So who’s number two?  Who’s the second half of this dastardly duo?  Well, that should be very easy to figure out.  It’s the man who’s dominated the news in recent weeks, whose name has come to be directly associated with aggression, evil, death and destruction: Mr. Vladimir Putin.  It turns out that he and Pilate have a lot in common.  Both have approved of the killing of innocent people; both have been consumed with power; both have enjoyed flaunting their authority—and both have denied responsibility for the evil they’ve done.  Pilate washed his hands to symbolize the belief that he was in no way responsible for the death of Jesus; Putin has blamed everyone—NATO, the United States, even the people of Ukraine themselves—for the atrocities that are occurring there under his direction and with his approval.

Anyone who says it’s okay to bomb a children’s hospital should not be in a place of leadership in the free world.  In fact, he shouldn’t be in a place of leadership anywhere. 

Neither, of course, should civil leaders who support the “bombing” of children who are still in the womb.  That also needs to be noted within the context of this homily.  Actually the only difference between these civil leaders and Vladimir Putin is that he supports the killing of children out in the open where everyone can see what’s happening.  Pro-choice politicians in our country (and in other countries) who support abortion, and who work very hard to keep it legal, prefer that the dirty deeds they condone stay hidden behind the walls of a Planned Parenthood clinic (or some similar place), where no one can see what’s going on. 

At least Putin is a bit more open and honest regarding the evil he supports.

So I guess there are actually three of a kind, not two of a kind.  There’s Pilate, there’s Putin, and there’s your local (or national) pro-choice politician.

Now, I don’t play poker like Fr. Najim does.  But I know enough about poker to know that three of a kind is always better than two of a kind.  However in this case, that law does not apply.  When it comes to those who support the destruction of innocent human life, three of a kind is a lot worse than two of a kind.  Always.

Let me close now on a more positive note. 

We’re not sure exactly what happened to Pontius Pilate towards the end of his life.  There isn’t a lot of reliable historical information out there about his later years.  But there are some ancient sources which maintain that he eventually (believe it or not) became a Christian.  I hope—and I sincerely pray—that those sources are correct.

The bottom line is this: We don’t know if it actually did happen. We don’t know for a fact that Pilate eventually had a conversion and became a disciple of Jesus Christ and a member of the Church.  But that’s not where our focus should be today.  Our focus today should be on the fact that it COULD HAVE HAPPENED!  Our focus today should be on the fact that no one—not even Pontius Pilate—not even Vladimir Putin—not even your typical pro-choice politician—is beyond the merciful touch of Jesus Christ. 

Almighty God will forgive them for everything, as he will forgive all of us—but ONLY if they (and we) repent!  Jesus makes that clear in this gospel.  After speaking about the Galileans that Pilate had murdered, Jesus says, “But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!”

He’s talking there, obviously, about spiritual death, not physical death.  But if it’s true that a lack of repentance leads to the eternal death of the soul, then the opposite must also be true—which means that repentance—genuine, deep, heartfelt repentance—is the clear and certain path we need to follow to attain eternal life!

It’s my prayer today that Pontius Pilate found that path 2,000 years ago, and that he stayed on it for the rest of his time on this earth.  And I pray that Vladimir Putin, and every pro-choice politician—and each and every one of us—will do the same thing.

The 3 Great Fears of Human Beings, and the 3 Temptations of Jesus in the Desert

 

(First Sunday of Lent (C): This homily was given on March 6, 2022 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Luke 4: 1-13.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: First Sunday of Lent 2022]

The late Fr. Benedict Groeschel was not only a priest, he was also a psychologist, with a doctorate from Columbia University.  That means he understood the workings of the human mind pretty well. 

In his book, The Virtue Driven Life, Fr. Groeschel made a very interesting statement in this regard.  He said, “Human beings have three great fears—to be no one, to have no one, and to have nothing—and they cause people to be self-centered and ungenerous.”

I read that line as I was in the process of preparing for this homily, and I said to myself, “That’s amazing!  Those are precisely the 3 temptations Jesus faced after his 40-day fast in the desert!”  Fr. Groeschel doesn’t make that connection directly in his book, but it’s true nonetheless.

This means that in dealing with these 3 temptations from the devil, Jesus was actually facing the 3 greatest fears that we face in our lives.

Let’s take them in the order Fr. Groeschel mentions them (which is actually the opposite of the order that Jesus experienced them in this Gospel story).

Human beings, he says, have 3 great fears.  The first is the fear of being no one—that is to say, the fear of being a nobody; the fear of not being recognized and appreciated for who we are.  Satan mistakenly thought he could find this fear inside of Jesus and use it to lead him into sin, and so he took our Lord to the very top of the Temple in Jerusalem.  There he said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written: ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to guard you, and with their hands they will support you, lest you dash your foot against a stone.’” 

Satan was saying, “Jesus, I know who you are—I know you’re one of those really important people that God the Father will protect.  But the men and women here in Jerusalem—they don’t know that.  They think you’re just an ordinary man.  So show them who you are; throw yourself down from here!  Just like it says in the 91^st psalm, God the Father will send a whole flock of angels from heaven to catch you—and everybody in the city will see it!  They’ll say, ‘Wow, this guy can fly!  He must be a special person.’  Then they’ll listen to you; then they’ll take your words seriously!”

Jesus was able to resist this temptation, because he had a PERFECT relationship with his heavenly Father.  He knew exactly who he was; he knew he was loved by God the Father with a perfect love—and he was completely secure and at peace in that knowledge.  Consequently, he wasn’t afraid of being a nobody.

But sometimes, we can be!  And it’s important for us to be aware of that, because this kind of fear can easily cause us to compromise our moral principles: “I want to be accepted by my friends—I want them to think I’m cool like they are—and so I’ll drink with them on weekends”; “I want my co-workers to like me, and so I’ll talk and act just like they do.”

The fear of being a nobody.

Andy Warhol used to talk about people wanting their 15 minutes of fame.  There’s a lot of truth in that.  Some people will do almost anything to get noticed these days.  Why do you think there are so many reality shows on TV?   Why do you think so many people with terrible voices audition for American Idol?  They don’t want to be “nobodies”.  They want to be known for something—even if that “something” brings them embarrassment and humiliation! 

The antidote to this kind of fear is a deep, personal relationship with the Lord.  (That’s not pious drivel; that’s reality!)  This is why our relationship with Jesus Christ—nourished by prayer and the sacraments—needs to be our top priority in this life!

Because the more we know and love Jesus—and even more importantly, the more we really know and understand his love for us—the less this fear of being a nobody will control us.

Put it this way—if Jesus Christ is my best friend; if I really know that he loves me just as I am; and if I know he will always be there for me, then I don’t have to be afraid of being a nobody!  Ever!  I’ll know—I’ll always know—that I’m a somebody!  I don’t have to prove anything to anyone.  As long as I’m striving to be faithful to Jesus, I have nothing to worry about.

The second fear according to Fr. Groeschel, is the fear of having no one.  Once again, Satan mistakenly thought he could find this fear within Jesus, and use it to get him to disobey his Father.  So he showed our Lord all the kingdoms of the world, and said to him, “I’ll give you all this power and glory, if you just worship me.”  In other words, “Jesus, you don’t have to worry about your future; you don’t have to be concerned that someday no one will care about you.  Just worship me, and I’ll make you the ruler of all these countries.  Then you’ll be all set!  You’ll have lots of servants—thousands of people at your beck and call at every moment of every day.  You’ll never be alone; you’ll never be neglected!”

Once again, this fear—the fear of having no one—was not in Jesus.  He knew he was never alone; he knew the Father was always with him.  And so he said to Satan, “You shall worship the Lord, your God; him alone shall you adore.”

Jesus didn’t give in to this fear, but we can.  Pretty easily.

Politicians who support immoral laws even though they are “personally opposed” give in to this fear.  They’re afraid that if they support the right laws, they’ll lose the support of those who helped to put them into office.

Just ask our President.  He knows all about that one!

Priests who are afraid to teach EVERYTHING that the Church teaches in matters of faith and morals also give in to this fear.  They fear their parishioners won’t like them anymore.

Whenever a Catholic fails to speak up for what’s right and true when he knows that he should speak up—be it at work or at school or among his friends—that Catholic gives in to this type of fear.

And we’ve all been there, haven’t we?  I know I have!

The last fear Fr. Groeschel mentions, which ties in with the very first temptation of Jesus in this scene in the desert, is the fear of having nothing (or the fear of not having our needs met).  This is similar to the second fear in some respects, but the second one related more to persons; this one concerns possessions.

Satan said to Jesus, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to turn to bread.”  His message there was, “Jesus, you’re pretty hungry right now, aren’t you?  You’ve been fasting for 40 days and 40 nights in this awful desert.  Aren’t you worried about your health?  Aren’t you afraid of starving?  You should be!  Well, then, do something about it; satisfy your urge!  Give yourself a good meal!  You deserve it!”

Jesus, of course, knew that his Father would provide for all his needs, so he rejected this temptation immediately and said to Satan, “One does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

The fear of not having enough wasn’t present in Jesus Christ; but sometimes, once again, it can manifest itself in us.  Why, for example, do people steal?  Why do they cheat on their taxes?  Why do they cut corners in their businesses?  Why are they sometimes less charitable than they should be—or could be?

In many cases, it’s simply because they’re afraid!  They’re afraid that they don’t—or that they won’t—have enough!

So there they are—the 3 great fears we face during our time on this earth: the fear of being a nobody; the fear of having no one; the fear of having nothing. 

As we’ve just seen, Jesus was able to overcome every one of these fears, in and through the loving relationship he had with his heavenly Father.

But the good news is that we, too, can overcome them!  We can overcome these 3 fears by finding our strength, our security and our peace IN OUR RELATIONSHIP WITH JESUS!

So let’s resolve today to work very hard at improving our relationship with the Lord during this holy season of Lent—by prayer, by reading Scripture, perhaps by attending Mass and Eucharistic Adoration more frequently, and, of course, by going to Confession.  Let’s resolve to improve our relationship with Jesus in these very practical ways, and get rid of the fears that afflict us.

The Theme Word for Lent: Light

(Ash Wednesday 2022: This homily was given on March 2, 2022 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Joel 2: 12-18; Psalm 51; 2 Corinthians 5: 20-6: 2; Matthew 6: 1-18.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Ash Wednesday 2022]

For several years when I was pastor, I would offer a “theme word” on Ash Wednesday—a theme word to guide people on their journey through the season of Lent.  I’ll do that again this year. This word was actually suggested by a parishioner.  He gave it to me a couple of months ago.  And the more I pondered it, the more I realized that it really is a good theme word for this season.  The word is “Light”.  Lent is a time to let the light—the Light of Christ—more fully into our lives.  And one of the effects of doing this; one of the effects of letting the Light of the Lord come more fully into our lives (believe it or not) is to make us more aware of our sins—our imperfections—our bad habits—our bad attitudes.

And that’s good!  It may not sound good, but it is!  It’s good because becoming aware of those sins and imperfections and bad habits and attitudes is the first step to getting rid of them.  I don’t think that many Catholics understand that becoming aware of your sins is actually a sign that you’re drawing closer to Jesus—that you’re coming closer to the Light—that you’re growing in holiness.

But it is a sign of those things!

Bishop Sheen used to use a great analogy to illustrate this truth.  He used to say that if you take a portrait (a painting) and look at it in dim light, with the light source far away from the portrait, the painting will look pretty good.  All the colors will appear to blend well, the brush strokes will look smooth.  But if you take a very bright light and bring it up close to that very same portrait, then you’ll see all the imperfections—the places where the artist put a little too much paint, the places where the colors didn’t blend perfectly, etc.

In the same way, when we’re far away from Jesus Christ—the true Light of the world—we will look pretty good to ourselves.  Oh sure, we will still be committing sins that hurt our families and friends and many others (including ourselves) but we won’t be aware of those sins.  So we’ll keep on committing them in all likelihood.  But if we’re growing closer to the Light every day by nourishing our relationship with Jesus Christ through prayer and fasting and almsgiving and the Eucharist and all those other spiritual practices that we intensify during the season of Lent, we will notice the imperfections within ourselves.  We will become more aware of the small sins as well as the big sins in our lives.

Which is great, as I said earlier!  Because becoming aware of them is the first step to getting rid of them!  It’s the first step to getting them out of our lives.  And the best place to get rid of your sins, of course, is the confessional.  I said earlier that Lent is a time to let the Light of Christ more fully into our lives.  But the Light of Christ can’t coexist with sin, because sin is darkness—spiritual darkness.  This is why we’re encouraged to make a good confession during the season of Lent: to get rid of whatever darkness is present in our soul so that we can be more open to the Light.

This morning you will receive ashes on your forehead, which should actually lead you, eventually, into the confessional.  If it doesn’t, then I would say that you’ve missed the meaning of the sacramental that you’ve received.  When the person giving you ashes makes the sign of the Cross on your forehead, he or she will say, “Repent and believe in the gospel.”  Up until a few years ago they used to say, “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the gospel”.  We turn away from sin most definitively and most completely when we make a good confession.

To turn away from sin in confession is to reject the darkness.  To be faithful to the gospel is to love and obey the true Light of the world.

It’s my prayer that all of us will do both of those things during the next 40 days.