The Fold of the Good Shepherd: Easy to Get Into, But Difficult to Stay In

 

(Fourth Sunday of Easter (A): This homily was given on April 30, 2023 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Acts 2:14a, 36-41; Psalm 23:1-6; 1 Peter 2:20-25; John 10:1-10.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Fourth Sunday of Easter 2023]

In his book, “The Song of the Bird,” Fr. Anthony de Mello writes the following little story:

A sheep found a hole in the fence
and crept through it.

He wandered far
and lost his way back. 

Then he realized he was
being followed by a wolf.

He ran and ran, but the wolf
kept chasing him, until the shepherd
came and rescued him and carried
him lovingly back to the fold.

In spite of everyone’s urgings
to the contrary, the shepherd
refused to nail up the hole in the fence.

 

That little anecdote illustrates a very important truth that I think God wants us to ponder on this “Good Shepherd Sunday”: It’s very easy to get into the sheepfold, but it’s very difficult to stay there.

Baptism, of course, is the way in, as St. Peter told the people of Jerusalem after he preached to them on Pentecost Sunday.  We heard the last line of Peter’s sermon in today’s first reading from Acts, chapter 2.  And it was obviously an extremely powerful talk that Peter gave that day, because the Bible says that those in attendance were “cut to the heart” when they heard what Peter said, and they immediately asked the apostles to tell them what they needed to do.  Peter responded by saying, “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”

And three thousand did!  Praise God!  On Pentecost Sunday three thousand new “sheep” entered the fold: the safe and secure fold of Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd. 

But how many of them stayed there?

The answer is: We don’t know.

I pray that all of them did!  I pray that all of them faithfully followed Jesus Christ for the rest of their earthly lives, and are now living with him forever in heaven.  But I also know that that might not be the case, because, as I said a few moments ago, “It’s very easy to get into the fold, but it’s very difficult to stay there.”

That’s because there’s always a hole in the Good Shepherd’s fence, as Fr. de Mello’s story makes clear.  In other words, there’s always a temptation to walk away from Christ and his truth.  We always have that freedom.  And this hole in the fence—this temptation to leave the Good Shepherd and his Gospel—seems to be getting bigger every day.  It’s a growing problem, especially for our young people.  In this regard, Bishop Robert Barron wrote the following in 2017.  I quote it today because I don’t think much has changed since then.  If anything, the situation has only gotten worse in today’s woke culture.  Bishop Barron said:

Anyone looking for concrete evidence of the crisis [in our culture] doesn’t have to look very far or very long. Twenty-five percent of Americans now identify as religion-less, and among those thirty and younger, the number rises to 40%. The majority of people under fifty now claim that their moral convictions do not come from the Bible, and traditional prohibitions, especially in regard to sex and marriage, are being aggressively swept away.  In fact, legally speaking, the momentum has shifted so dramatically that now those who defend classical views on sexuality are subject to harassment, even prosecution.

Keep in mind he wrote that a few years before the transgender phenomenon took off.  Criticize that and prepare yourself for some big-time persecution in certain places!

By the way, have you noticed how “out of control” many people are these days?  Have you noticed the lack of control that many contemporary men and women have over their emotions?

It’s scary!

Think of the violent protests we’ve seen in major cities and on college campuses all over the country in recent years, and the inability of many people to listen to a person who has a different opinion from theirs—especially if that opinion concerns matters of sexual morality.  If you’re someone in academia who believes, for example, in the Ten Commandments, you’d be wise to think twice before you accept an invitation to give a talk at a college other than your own—unless you want to cause a riot.

This disturbing trend, I would say, is not coincidental.  We are living in a society right now in which a lot of people have run—and are running—through that hole in the fence of the Good Shepherd.  They’re rejecting anything and everything associated with Jesus Christ and his Gospel.  And some of them go as far away from the fold as the Satanists who are having a big convention this weekend in Boston.  Have you heard about that?

Well, as the sheep in Fr. de Mello’s story found out, running through the hole in the Good Shepherd’s fence has consequences—one of which is the loss of control over your emotions.

It’s very easy to get into the fold, but it’s very difficult to stay there—especially nowadays.

So how do we do the difficult thing and remain in the sheepfold?  In the midst of all this turmoil and pressure to give in to the culture, how do we remain strong in our faith and close to the Good Shepherd?

Well, if you’ve taken the time to read the book Fr. Najim gave to you when we first began the Dynamic Parish program here at St. Pius, then you already know the answer.  That book (in case you weren’t here) was entitled, “The Four Signs of a Dynamic Catholic”.  It was written by the well-known Catholic author and speaker, Matthew Kelly.  In that book Kelly says that, through his study and observation, he’s come to the realization that Catholics who are really serious about living their faith, Catholics who are deeply committed to Jesus and his Gospel—in other words, Catholics who are making the effort to stay in the fold of the Good Shepherd—engage in four important activities in their lives: prayer, study, generosity and evangelization.  These are what he calls the four “signs” of a “dynamic” Catholic.

First, PRAYER.  Dynamic Catholics, he says, pray—and not just once-in-awhile or when they’re in trouble.  They have a prayer life that’s disciplined and consistent.  Personal prayer is a regular part of their day-to-day experience.  Sunday Mass, of course, is a top priority for them as is the sacrament of Reconciliation—which they receive ASAP if they do happen, on occasion, to wander through the hole in the fence by committing a mortal sin.  Yes, serious, dynamic Catholics might, in a weak moment, wander away from the fold—but they don’t stay out there in the wilderness for very long.

Number 2, they STUDY the truths of their faith so that they can understand them better, live them more completely, and defend them against the lies of the culture in which they live. 

Number 3, they practice GENEROSITY in terms of their time, talent and treasure—which basically means they’re generous in their love for their neighbors.

And number 4, they take EVANGELIZATION seriously, and are deeply concerned for the spiritual well-being and salvation of others, beginning in their families.

It’s very easy to get into the fold, but it’s very difficult to stay there.

Difficult, but not impossible.

Prayer, study, generosity and evangelization make it possible.

May the Lord give us the grace today to put all of those “signs” into practice in the future—and to read Matthew Kelly’s book, if we haven’t done so already.

 

We Can Become More Aware of the Presence of Christ OUT THERE in the World, by Becoming More Aware of the Presence of Christ IN HERE—at Mass!

 

(Third Sunday of Easter (A): This homily was given on April 23, 2023 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Acts 2:14-33; Psalm 16:1-11; 1 Peter 1:17-21; Luke 24:13-35.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Third Sunday of Easter 2023]

 

There’s an ancient legend which says that on Easter Sunday morning, the devil—the master of disguise—tried to get into heaven by pretending to be the risen Christ.  He took along some of his demons and disguised them as angels of light.  When they arrived at the gates of heaven, the demons cried out (quoting Psalm 24), “O gates, lift high your heads; grow higher, ancient doors.   Let him enter, the king of glory!”

The good angels looked out at Jesus (or so they thought), and they chanted the next line of the psalm: “Who is the king of glory?”  The devil then opened his arms and shouted, “I am!”

The good angels immediately slammed shut the gates, refusing to let the imposter in.

How did they know it wasn’t Jesus?

They saw no nail marks in his hands!  The devil had no scars of love on him.  Unlike the real Jesus, he hadn’t sacrificed himself to pay the price for sin.

The real angels in that story knew how to recognize Christ in their midst.

Do we?

It’s not always easy, is it?—especially in today’s “woke world” where most of the news seems to be bad news—really bad news. 

And yet Jesus has promised to be with us always until the end of time.  So we know by faith that he’s here—even when the circumstances we’re dealing with aren’t so good!

The question is, “How can we be like the good angels in that story, and learn to recognize Christ in our midst?”  How can we become more aware of the fact that he’s with us out there in the world (as tough and as cruel as the world can often be)?

The answer is: We can become more aware of the presence of Christ out there, by becoming more aware of the presence of Christ in here—at Mass!  This is the lesson we learn from Cleopas and his friend in this Gospel story from Luke 24.

Initially these two men had no awareness that Jesus was in their midst, did they?—even though he was walking right beside them!  As St. Augustine wrote, “They had lost faith, lost hope.  They were walking along, dead, with Christ alive; they were walking along, dead, with life itself.”

Not a pretty picture.  But it does accurately describe their mental and spiritual condition at that moment!  They were crushed in spirit—so much so that they really were like “dead men walking.”

What changed them?  What brought Cleopas and his friend ‘back to life,’ so to speak? 

The Mass! 

“But Fr. Ray, it doesn’t say they went to Mass.  In fact, the word ‘Mass’ isn’t found anywhere in this story!”

True.  But the experience they had on Easter Sunday is the very same experience we have whenever we come to Mass, and that’s quite easy to demonstrate.  In every Mass, there are two parts: the Liturgy of the Word, and the Liturgy of the Eucharist.  And so it was for Cleopas and his unnamed friend.  The Liturgy of the Word started when Jesus began to share the Scriptures with them.  This, it seems, went on for several hours!  St. Luke tells us that, “beginning with Moses and the prophets, he [i.e., Jesus] interpreted to them what referred to him in all the Scriptures.”  So please don’t complain about the length of our homilies here at St. Pius.  Compared to these two guys, you have it easy—even on our longest days!

The Liturgy of the Eucharist was celebrated in their home, when Jesus sat at table, and, (here I quote), “took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them.”  Sounds like the Last Supper, doesn’t it?  Sounds like the words of the priest in the Eucharistic prayer at Mass!

But it wasn’t just attending Mass that made the difference for these men; it was the way they entered into it!   Unlike some Catholics, they didn’t have their bodies at Mass and their minds and hearts somewhere else.

St. Augustine indicates that they entered into this “Mass-like” experience by showing Jesus “hospitality.”  Put in the terms of this homily, that means they welcomed Jesus both in word and in sacrament.  First of all, they welcomed him in word.  As he spoke to them, they were all ears.  Could this be because they prepared well beforehand?  A good case could be made for that.  St. Luke begins by saying, “That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.”  Mass for these two men had not even begun, and yet they were already talking to each other about matters of faith!  In doing that, they were unknowingly preparing their hearts and minds for the Liturgy!

“Why did this have to happen?”  “Why didn’t our people accept Jesus?”  “Do you really think he was the Messiah?”  These were some of the topics of their discussion.  Consequently, when Jesus came along and began to converse with them and teach them during the “Mass,” they were very attentive to what he had to say.  They were prepared to hear him. 

Do you discuss matters of faith with others on a regular basis?  Are these issues that are important to you?  Many people will discuss matters of faith only when the purpose of the discussion is to ridicule the Church and Catholicism.  That’s not the kind of dialogue I’m talking about!  I’m talking about the kind of dialogue Cleopas and his friend were engaged in: dialogue that seeks insight; dialogue that seeks the truth.  That’s the kind of dialogue and discussion that prepares someone to receive God’s Word at Mass. 

And notice how these men also discussed the Liturgy of the Word after Mass was over!  They didn’t “leave it all in church” so to speak.  St. Luke tells us that after Jesus had disappeared they said to one another, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?”  I’ve had parents tell me that on the way home from church they sometimes talk about the readings and the homily with their children—and that very often the young people are the ones who initiate the discussion!  Great!  Cleopas and his friend would heartily approve.  That’s called “digesting God’s Word.”

And finally, notice how these two men welcomed Jesus in the Eucharist.  Here their hospitality was especially evident!  The Liturgy of the Word—as important as it was—was obviously not enough for them.  They wanted—and needed—something more.  As Scripture says, “They urged him, ‘Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.’”  At this point in the “Mass,” they wanted to deepen their friendship with this unknown man by sharing a meal with him, which was a common practice in the ancient world.  We Americans with our “fast food mentality” tend to eat and run (which is one reason why leaving Mass right after Communion is so common here).  The ancients were different.  The ancients ate and shared fellowship.  Meals were opportunities to deepen relationships; they weren’t “pit stops in the daily rat race.” Many Europeans, of course, still have this understanding and outlook.  When I was in Italy several  years ago, for example, most of our meals took at least two hours; they were never rushed.  And boy, did I eat—but that’s another story.

This is where it all came together for them.  At the meal!  This is where, as St. Luke tells us, “their eyes were opened, and they [finally] recognized [Jesus].”  The Eucharist gave them insight; the Eucharist gave them joy; the Eucharist gave them the ability to recognize Christ in their midst.  This is why prayerful contemplation after Communion is so essential.  If that is skipped, then we will close ourselves off from many of the graces God wants to give us, and we will probably leave the church as spiritually blind as when we entered.

Do you think Cleopas and his friend ever doubted that Jesus Christ was with them from this day onward?  After their Mass with Jesus which began on the road to Emmaus, I don’t think so.  They might never have seen him again as they did on that Easter Sunday, but I’m quite confident they were still able to see him wherever they went.  Like Mother Teresa—who, not coincidentally, went to Mass every day!—they were probably aware of his presence even in the midst of very difficult circumstances. 

They saw him “out there,” because they had learned to see him “in here.”

Dear Jesus, give us that same ability.  Help us to welcome you with true hospitality in word and sacrament at this Mass and at every Mass we attend.  Amen.

 

Why Today is Called ‘Good’ Friday

 

(Good Friday 2023: This homily was given on April 7, 2023 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 31:2-15; Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9; John 18:1-19:42.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Good Friday 2023]

In Jewish homes during the Passover meal, the youngest member of the family asks his or her father the question, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”  The father responds by telling the story of the Hebrews’ exodus from Egypt—the story of how God delivered his chosen people from slavery to Pharoah and the Egyptians, and led them to freedom through the Red Sea.

Today, as Christians, we might ask ourselves a similar question: Why is this day, Good Friday, different from every other day?  And our answer would have to be similar to that of the Jewish father at Passover: It’s because today we celebrate our deliverance from slavery.  But not from slavery to a person or a nation, but rather slavery to something far more consequential. I’m talking about slavery to evil, slavery to sin.  That’s what the crucifixion of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is all about: the loving act of a God who cares about us so much that he was willing to go to any length to free us from sin and eternal death, and to bring us back to himself.

You see the truth of the matter is that we deserved to be on that cross, not Jesus.  He never sinned.  We’re the sinners.  The Good Thief recognized this when he said to the thief on the left, “We are only paying the price for what we’ve done.  We deserve this.  But this man has done nothing wrong.”

Yet Jesus was willing to take our place—to do what only a God-man could do, namely atone for the sins of the entire human race.  And that, my brothers and sisters, is a lot of sin.  As Isaiah put it:

It was our infirmities he bore, our sufferings that he endured…. Upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole, by his stripes we were healed.  We had all gone astray like sheep, each following his own way.  But the Lord laid upon him the guilt of us all.

Only a God-man—only a divine Person—could bear the psychological and spiritual weight of all that guilt (for us mere mortals the guilt of our own sins alone can be overwhelming!)—which is why the agony the Jesus experienced on the Cross was far more intense than anything we will ever experience in our earthly lives.

The closest we can come to understanding what our Lord endured on the Cross is to reflect on our own experience of intense pain.  (This is something I learned from Bishop Sheen many years ago.  When something tragic happens in our lives (like the death of someone we love) we normally don’t only experience the pain of the present moment.  What we tend to do when we suffer great physical or emotional pain is to unconsciously take all the pain from our past and add that to the pain of the present moment.  Job did this when in the midst of his affliction he cried out, “Is not man’s life on earth a drudgery?”

Well, if you know the story from the Old Testament, you know that Job’s life before he was afflicted was not a drudgery!  It was anything but a drudgery.  It was wonderful.  He had it all!  He had a loving family; he had his health; he had many possessions.  But at that moment, in the midst of his present pain, all he could remember from his past were the bad things.

And, as if this were not enough, the other thing we tend to do when we’re in pain is to look forward in time and anticipate all the bad that might happen to us in the future.  Job also did this when he cried out, “I shall not see happiness again.”  So all this real pain from our past, and all the anticipated pain of the future are brought to the present moment, and they magnify the pain that we are already suffering.

That is our experience—and from it we can gain some small insight into what our Lord went through on that Cross.  Jesus said in John’s Gospel that when he was lifted up from the earth he would draw all people to himself.  All people, of all times. That means that on Calvary Jesus reached back in time and took upon himself every sin of every person who had ever lived, from Adam onward.  And, as if this were not enough, at the same time he reached forward into history, and took hold of all the sin and evil that would be committed in the future until the end of time (including your sin and mine) and pulled all of that onto himself.  So on the Cross he bore the weight of all sin: past, present and future.  That was something only he could do.  He could do it because he was a divine Person who also had a human nature.

He brought all those sins to the Cross to die for them.  And this was no ordinary death; it was death by crucifixion.  Crucifixion was such a horrid means of capital punishment that Rome would not execute her own citizens in this way.  No Roman citizen was ever crucified.  Crucifixion was the form of execution that was reserved for slaves, for people the Romans considered to be “scum”—for the dregs of society.  

And it was a slow and painful death.  Historians tell us that some people hung on the cross for almost a week (that’s why Pilate was surprised that Jesus had died so soon).  Sometimes they suffered to the point of madness.

It was also a humiliating death, because the person was crucified naked.  You know, we always portray our Lord as being covered by a cloth—we do that for the sake of propriety.  But in actuality he was crucified naked.  This is the type of death and humiliation he endured for us.

This means that he understands our sufferings.  He knows them well, because he’s experienced them himself.  Does God know what it’s like, for example, to have a headache?  Yes, he knows what it’s like to have a headache—he wore a crown of thorns.  Does God know what it’s like to have a backache?  Yes, he carried a tree to the place of his execution.  Does God know what it’s like to be abandoned by friends and betrayed?  Yes, he knows what that’s like too.  He knows it all because he suffered it all on Calvary.

And he went through it all for our benefit, so that we might be freed from our sins and come to experience the fullness of life.  As St. Paul put it in his Letter to the Romans, by the power that flows from our Lord’s suffering and death we don’t have to live our lives as slaves to fear, slaves to hate, slaves to lust, slaves to sin or evil in any of its forms.  Of course, as we all know, much of the world right now is living in bondage to those things.  But we don’t have to, if we turn to Jesus in sincere faith and seek his strength and power—because he conquered all those evil forces by his death 2,000 years ago.

That’s why I would say that Good Friday is not a day to be sad.  It’s a day to be thankful!  Thankful for how much the Lord loves each one of us, and thankful for what he was willing to endure for us, to free us from sin and give us the hope of eternal happiness and joy with him.  As the author of the Letter to the Hebrews put it, “For the sake of the joy which lay before him, Christ endured the Cross, heedless of its shame.”

That same joy is to be ours as well, if we are faithful—which is (or at least should be) good news for us.  It should also be good news for every other man and woman living on planet earth right now—as well as for every other man and woman who will live on planet earth in the future, until the end of time. 

Which is precisely why today is known as (and will always be known as) Good Friday.