How Jesus Teaches Today—With Authority!

Icon of Christ the Teacher

(Fourth Sunday of the Year (B): This homily was given on January 28, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Deuteronomy 18:15-20; Psalm 95:1-9; 1 Corinthians 7:32-35; Mark 1:21-28.)

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

I’ll begin my homily this morning with a few stories about teachers, and about those associated with the teaching profession.  Perhaps you’ve heard some of these before.

A little girl came home from school one day and said to her mother, “Mommy, today I was punished in school for something that I didn’t do.”

The mother said, “What?  I can’t believe it.  That’s so unfair!  I’m going to have a talk with your teacher about this.  By the way, what was it that you didn’t do?”

The little girl answered, “My homework.”

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A little boy came home from his very first day at school.  His mother said to him, “What did you learn today, Johnny?”

Johnny replied, “Not enough.  I have to go back tomorrow.”

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Nine-year-old Joey came home from CCD one night, and his mother asked him what he had learned.

Joey said, “Well, our teacher told us how God sent Moses behind enemy lines on a rescue mission to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.  When he got to the Red Sea, he had his engineers build a pontoon bridge, and all the people walked across safely.  Then he used his walkie-talkie to radio headquarters and call in an air strike.  They sent in bombers to blow up the bridge, and all the Israelites were saved.”

His mother said, “Now, Joey, is that REALLY what your teacher taught you?”

He said, “Well, no.  But if I told you the story the way the teacher did, you’d never believe me!”

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Finally, one day not too long ago the phone rang in a school office at 8am.  The principal picked it up.  The voice on the other end said, “My son has a bad cold and won’t be able to come to school today.”

The principal responded, “Okay.  Thank you for calling.  Now who is this?”

The voice on the other end replied, “Uh . . . uh . . . this is my father speaking!” 

 

To the young people here this morning I say, “Don’t get any ideas from that last story!”

Which brings us to Jesus Christ.  First and foremost, Jesus is a Savior—our Lord and Savior.  He came to die, so that we might live.  He offered his human life on the cross so that we might share in his divine life forever.

But Jesus is not only a Savior; he is also a teacher.  In fact, when you read the New Testament, you see that our Lord spent most of his earthly ministry doing three things: healing the sick, casting out demons, and teaching people the Gospel message in its fullness.

In today’s Gospel text from Mark 1, for example, we’re told that Jesus taught in a synagogue and then performed a spectacular exorcism.  Immediately afterward he healed many people who were sick, including Simon Peter’s mother-in-law.  So here—in this one chapter of the Bible—we see Jesus engaged in all three of the activities I just mentioned: teaching, healing and casting out demons. 

Obviously the healings and exorcisms Jesus performed were unique and extraordinary.  Very few people would dispute that fact.  But there was also something unique and extraordinary about the way our Lord taught.  To put it quite simply, Jesus was not your typical teacher!  That’s clear from this Gospel, in the line where St. Mark tells us, “The people were astonished at [Jesus’] teaching, for he taught them as one having authority and not as the scribes.”

Now what exactly does that mean?  What is St. Mark telling us when he says that Jesus taught with “authority,” and not like the scribes did?  Basically he’s telling us that Jesus spoke with the voice and authority of God himself! 

Whenever the scribes taught, they would always try to bolster their arguments by quoting other teachers and other scholars of the Law.  And that’s quite understandable.  They did that because they were fallible human beings.  But Jesus was (and is) God!  Consequently, he spoke in his own name.  He didn’t need any other authority on this earth to verify the truth of what he said.  Thus it should come as no surprise to us that Jesus demanded obedience—total obedience from his listeners!  Since his message was also God’s message, he expected everyone to heed his words and put them into practice—for their own good!  As he said at the end of the Sermon on the Mount: “Anyone who hears my words and puts them into practice is like the wise man who built his house on rock.  When the rainy season set in, the torrents came and the winds blew and buffeted his house. [But] it did not collapse; it had been solidly set on rock.”

Isn’t it too bad that Jesus isn’t still with us today?  Wouldn’t it be great if we had a teacher among us like him—a teacher with that type of God-given authority?  Then we would know with absolute certitude what the Lord expected of us in this life!  Then we would know what we needed to do to be happy—and to save our souls!

Well, guess what. We do have that teacher among us today!  And it’s not the pope (although he’s her official spokesperson).  This teacher—whose authority comes from Jesus himself—is a Bride and also a Mother; she’s the Bride of Christ, and our holy, spiritual Mother.  We commonly refer to her as “the Church.”

Whenever the Church speaks to us officially on matters of faith and morals, we need to understand something: At those moments Jesus Christ is speaking to us as authoritatively as he spoke to people during his earthly ministry 2,000 years ago!

Do we listen?  And, even more importantly, do we say “Amen” to what we hear?  (Of course, we have to make sure we’re saying “Amen” to what the Church actually teaches and not what the secular media says the Church teaches.  Because they usually get it wrong—as they’ve done quite often with things that Pope Francis has said over the years.)

Today, as we all know, many Catholics “pick-and-choose” which teachings of the Church they’re going to follow.  But that’s really nothing new.  The very same phenomenon occurred back in the first century!

The fact is, people respond to the Church today in the very same ways that they responded to the historical Jesus 2,000 years ago: some believe; some don’t believe; and some “pick and choose” which teachings they will accept.  Think, for example, of the many people who heard the famous Bread of Life discourse in John, chapter 6.  Jesus told this crowd that in the near future he would give them his Body and Blood for their spiritual nourishment.  He said (among other things), “I am the bread of life”; “If anyone eats this bread he shall live forever”; “If you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” 

When Jesus finished this incredible sermon, we’re told that many of those who heard him walked away!  His 12 apostles didn’t, but the Bible tells us that many others who had previously been his devoted followers—his disciples—stopped being so that day!  They accepted everything else Jesus had said up to that point in his ministry, but they rejected this teaching on the Holy Eucharist.

The rich young man that we hear about in Mark 10 was another “picker-and-chooser”.  Scripture tells us that he accepted all the commandments—he said “Amen” to all the precepts of the Decalogue—but he rejected Jesus’ command to sell his possessions and become his follower.

True disciples of Christ accept all of his teachings on faith and morals as well as all of his commands—not just the easy ones; not just the appealing ones.  And they do their best to pass those teachings on to their children, because they want their children to be happy, and healthy—and holy.

To underscore that point let me conclude my homily now with one last story.  One day a second grade teacher said to her students, “Children, suppose there were 12 sheep, and 6 of them jumped off a cliff.  How many would be left?”  Little Norman raised his hand and said, “None.”  The teacher responded, “Norman, you don’t know your arithmetic.”  Norman replied, “No, teacher.  You don’t know your sheep.  When one goes, they all go!”

As the Lord’s sheep, it’s essential that we follow the right teacher—and that we help our young people to do the same: the teacher who wants what’s best for us; the teacher who speaks with the authority of Jesus; the teacher who will keep us—and our young people—away from the “cliffs” of this life.

 

Repentance: It’s The Best Thing You Can Do—For Yourself!

(Third Sunday of the Year (B): This homily was given on January 21, 2024, at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Jonah 3:1-5, 10; Psalm 25:4-9; 1 Corinthians 7:29-31; Mark 1:14-20.)

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

 

Repentance is good for you.

Repentance is healthy.

Repentance is liberating.

Repentance is the best thing you can do for yourself—as well as the best thing you can do to improve your relationships with other people when they go sour.

And to all this, we should say, “Thank God,” because the other noteworthy fact about repentance is that it’s not an option!

It’s a requirement.  It’s a mandate.  It’s a command that comes from Jesus Christ himself!  So the fact that it’s beneficial on so many levels is an added bonus!

The importance of repentance should be obvious from today’s Gospel passage.  There Jesus says, “This is the time of fulfillment.  The kingdom of God is at hand.  Repent, and believe in the Gospel!”  According to St. Mark, these were the very first words our Lord spoke during his earthly ministry.  In a certain sense, they form the foundation of everything else he taught during the next 3 years.  And his message to his listeners was clear and direct.  He said, in effect, “This is what you have been waiting for; this is what the entire nation of Israel has been anticipating for centuries!  Old Testament prophecies are now being fulfilled, and God is beginning to establish his kingdom among you.  If you want to be a part of it, you need to repent—and you need to believe!”

Repentance obviously improves your relationship with God: that’s a given.  But it also improves your relationships with other people.  The simple statement, “I’m sorry” (spoken from the heart), coupled with a desire to make amends for what you’ve done, can make a big difference in healing the rift between you and the people you’ve offended.

On the other hand, failing to repent and to say you’re sorry when you’ve done something wrong can have a disastrous effect on a relationship. 

It reminds me of a little story that a parishioner emailed me a while back . . .

A husband forgot his 25^th wedding anniversary (which was definitely not a good idea!).  His wife, as you might imagine, was extremely upset, especially since she was expecting a brand new car as an anniversary gift.  (Her husband had promised her that several months earlier.)

She said to him, “Tomorrow, there had better be something sitting in our driveway that goes from 0 to 200 in 2 seconds flat!”

She obviously expected a pretty fast car!

Anyway, the next day she woke up, ran outside to the driveway, and saw a small package sitting on the pavement.  She immediately opened it up, and found her present—a brand new bathroom scale!

The husband’s funeral was the following Tuesday!

This extremely foolish man would certainly still be among the living, if he had simply said, “I’m sorry.”  His wife might even have settled for a Hyundai instead of a Corvette!

On a more serious note, the following is a letter that really does show how failing to repent can have terrible psychological, emotional—as well as spiritual—consequences in our lives. 

It was sent to me many years ago—along with a little prayer book—by a woman who used to be a parishioner of St. Pius.  I saved the letter because it illustrates so well the importance of repentance.  The letter read as follows:

Dear Fr. Ray,

It is with the deepest sorrow and regret that I have to write to you.

I attended St. Pius Parish in the 1980s, when you had just gotten there (at the time the church was struck by lightening when Fr. Besse was pastor).  At that time, I made many visits to the church, in addition to coming to Mass on Sunday. 

I am so ashamed to say that on one of my visits to pray, I was in the front pew on the right hand side of the altar, and I noticed a beautiful little prayer book.  I don’t know what I was thinking, but I stole it, and have had it for over 15 years.

It is not just the fact that I took it, but that it belonged to someone who used it daily.

Over the years I have wanted to return it—just slip it back into the pew, and maybe the owner would somehow find it.

Everywhere I have moved, it went with me, along with my own prayer cards.

I started picking it up every once in a while to pray from it—but every time I tried, I couldn’t. . . . Guilt about this book has lasted all this time. . . .

My greatest sadness is that the prayers from this book were not said for over 15 years—for someone’s family, their church, their nation, the world.  I don’t know how to get it back to its owner.  Perhaps showing the book at all Masses might help.  I only hope that the person who owns this book can forgive me.

May God forgive me, a poor sinner, and have mercy on me.

PS: I hope and pray it doesn’t belong to Monsignor Struck or Sister Dorothy.  They have both helped me—and probably prayed for me from that book.  Again, I am so very sorry.

We can deny our sin; we can pretend it doesn’t exist; we can sweep it under the rug (so to speak)—but in spite of all these efforts, it will always affect us in negative ways!

The woman who wrote this letter to me had been guilt-ridden and without peace for 15 years because of a sin she committed and then tried to ignore.  But it didn’t have to be that way!  All she needed to do 15 years earlier was repent, go to Confession, and then make a sincere effort to return the prayer book to its owner.  It was that simple! 

On that note, it was fitting that today’s first reading was taken from the book of the prophet Jonah.  The verses we heard this morning occur in the middle of the book.  Here the Lord commands Jonah to go to the city Nineveh and preach a message of repentance.  And Jonah goes—which he did NOT do at the beginning of the book when God called him the first time!  In fact, after the initial call he received, Jonah got on the very first ship that he could find that was headed in the OPPOSITE DIRECTION, away from Nineveh!

Why, you ask?

Because Jonah hated the Ninevites, that’s why!  Nineveh was the capital city of Assyria, which, at the time, was Israel’s arch-enemy.  Jonah knew the Lord was not only just; he knew the Lord was also forgiving and merciful.  And he had a sneaking suspicion that if he went to the Ninevites and told them to repent—and they actually did repent—then God would not allow their city to be destroyed.

But Jonah wanted the place destroyed!  He wanted to see the city of Nineveh go up in flames!  He wanted to see it “fry” like Sodom and Gomorrah had many years earlier!

So he ran away (actually, he sailed away—on a ship that was headed west toward Tarshish).

God said, “Not so fast, Jonah!” and he threw the ship into a terrible storm.  Jonah was tossed overboard in the middle of it and swallowed by a gigantic fish (which is sometimes referred to as a whale).

After spending 3 days and 3 nights inside this whale’s belly, God commanded the creature to spew Jonah up onto the shore—which is where today’s first reading picks up the story.

The Lord said, “Ok Jonah, let’s try this one more time.  Go to the people of Nineveh and tell them that unless they repent within 40 days their entire city will be destroyed.”

Now, to his credit, Jonah did learn his lesson.  He learned that it was probably not a good idea to defy God a second time!  So, as we heard a few moments ago, he went to Nineveh—albeit begrudgingly—and he delivered the message the Lord told him to deliver.

And, almost immediately, the whole place repented—which, of course, was precisely what Jonah did NOT want to happen!

At that point, Jonah had a choice to make.  He could either repent of his hatred, forgive his enemies and find some peace, or he could persist in his hatred and unforgiveness and be miserable.  Unfortunately, Jonah ended up choosing the latter.

He whined; he pouted; he sulked; he told God that he had a “right” to be angry (I’m not sure where that right came from, but Jonah insisted that he had it).

It got so bad that he eventually prayed for death!  He said, “I can’t deal with this anymore, Lord, so please take my life.”

It’s ironic, isn’t it?—the Ninevites were the pagans, yet they repented and found peace; Jonah was a believer, an Israelite—one of God’s chosen people—but he refused to repent, and consequently had no peace.

I’ll end my homily this morning as I began it:

Repentance is good for you.

Repentance is healthy.

Repentance is liberating.

Repentance is the best thing you can do for yourself—as well as the best thing you can do to improve your relationships with other people when they go sour.

And that’s why the sacrament of Confession is such a great blessing!

When was the last time you went?

 

Self-Absorbed Herod and the Self-Giving Magi

(Epiphany 2024: This homily was given January 7, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Isaiah 60:1-6; Psalm 72:1-13; Ephesians 3:2-6; Matthew 2:1-12.)

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

“The Devil’s Arithmetic” is an excellent movie that was released back in 1999.  It stars Kirsten Dunst, who plays a 16-year-old Jewish girl from Long Island named Hannah Stern—a girl whose perspective on life changes radically at a Passover meal she celebrates with her family. 

When the film opens, Hannah is in a tattoo shop in New York with a teenage friend.  From her conduct in the shop and from her interaction with her parents when she gets home, it becomes very clear to the audience that this girl is a spoiled, self-centered, materialistic adolescent.  Like many young people—and like many not-so-young people today—Hannah is all wrapped up in herself and in her own concerns and desires.  And this was before cell phones and social media came on the scene!  She probably would have even been worse if they had been around.

Later that evening she goes with her parents to the home of her Aunt Eva, for the annual Passover meal (which, of course, commemorates the Exodus of the Hebrews from Egypt at the time of Moses).  She goes reluctantly.  Her Jewish faith means very little to her, and she knows that when she’s there she’ll be forced to listen to her older relatives talk about their experiences during the Holocaust—all of which she finds quite boring.

Well, toward the end of the Passover ritual that evening, Hannah is asked to go and open the door so that Elijah can come in.  (There’s an old Jewish tradition which says that Elijah the prophet spiritually visits every home where Passover is celebrated.)  When Hannah opens the door, she’s mysteriously transported to Poland in the year 1941.  There she experiences firsthand the horrors her older relatives had been forced to live through: the deportation from their homes, the sickness, the pain, the humiliation, and the horrible executions.

She finally comes back to the present—she re-awakens on the floor of her aunt’s home—and, needless to say, she’s a changed person.  Her attitude is different (especially toward her religion and family); her priorities are different; her outlook on life is different.

Hannah finally had learned to look beyond herself and her own selfish desires.  Before her “trip” to 1941 Poland, her biggest concerns were what tattoo she would get and what her friends thought of her.  That’s fairly typical in our western, affluent, materialistic culture: life is all about “me, myself and I.”  It’s all about what I want, and what will make me feel good.

But the sad irony is that her excessive self-concern did not make Hannah happy.  Quite oppositely, it made her miserable.

In that respect, she was very much like King Herod, one of the main characters in the Epiphany story which we heard a few moments ago.  Now there are 4 different Herods mentioned in the New Testament—that’s something we need to be clear about.  This one was known as Herod the Great—which, by the way, he was not (unless your idea of greatness includes people who murder their wives and children!).

Herod the Great was a paranoid individual who saw rivals to his throne everywhere.  (He definitely would have been a good case study for a modern psychologist.)  And this fear he had of losing his earthly power led him to kill (or at least to try to kill) everyone he suspected of wanting to de-throne him—including members of his own family, and the Holy Innocents!

Herod was all wrapped up in himself (like Hannah was before her mysterious “trip” to 1941 Poland); and this intense self-absorption was at the root of his paranoia.—“I’m the king; this is my kingdom, and no one will take it away from me! I rule; it’s what I want that matters; life revolves around me; everyone must bow to me; they are to serve me and respond to my needs.”

Herod’s self-absorption was also what prompted him to kill the Holy Innocents.  They died because he was convinced that somewhere among them was a newborn king who would steal his crown—and that was a threat he could not tolerate.

Think of the “innocents” of our age: the unborn, the elderly, the terminally ill.  These human beings are killed in our day for the very same reason Herod killed the Holy Innocents—because of obsessive self-concern.  People, you see, are just too busy with their own wants and desires to be bothered with little babies or sick old people.  Their comfort is threatened by these “innocents,” and the threat cannot be tolerated.

Herod thought his excessive self-concern would bring him happiness, but it only brought him paranoia and misery—much like Hannah’s self-absorption brought her unhappiness.

Along these lines, here’s an interesting question: What was the difference between King Herod and the Magi—aside from the fact that Herod was Jewish and the Magi were Gentiles?

The answer is: the Magi looked for their happiness outside of themselves and through self-giving.  They weren’t wrapped up in their own egos, like Herod was.  Think about it: their purpose was to find the newborn king of the Jews and to give him the honor he deserved—they weren’t making the trip for their own glory.  And, lest we forget, they didn’t travel to Bethlehem in limousines on nicely paved roads; they came riding on camels (ouch!), on rough, treacherous roads with danger around every corner.  And when they finally arrived at the house where the Holy Family was, they gave Jesus 3 precious gifts: gold, frankincense and myrrh.  They came to give, not to receive.

Thus what Scripture says about them is no coincidence.  It says “they were overjoyed at seeing the star”—the star which was leading them to Christ.  Can you imagine how much happier they were when they finally saw the Lord in the flesh?

The Magi gave: they gave their time, they gave their energy, they gave their resources, they gave the most precious gifts they had—and they found the happiness that selfish Herod didn’t.

The lesson for us should be crystal clear.

Let me conclude today with a story Bishop Sheen told in one of his many books.  The good bishop wrote:

“Not very long ago a father brought me his young son, a very self-wise, conceited young delinquent, who had given up his faith and was bitter with himself and everyone he met.  The next day the boy ran away from home.  He was away for a year.  The boy came back as bad as ever, and the father brought him to me and said, ‘What shall I do with him?’  I said, ‘Send him to school, but not in the United States.’  So I recommended a certain school to him, and about a year later the boy came back to see me.  He said, ‘Would you be willing to give me moral support for an enterprise that I have undertaken in Mexico?  There’s a group of boys in the college I attend who have built a little school.  We have gone all around the neighborhood and brought in the children to teach them catechism.  We will also bring in a doctor from the United States once a year, for one month, to take care of all the sick people of the neighborhood.’  I asked him how he became interested in this work.  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘The boys went down there during the summer, and I thought I would go down too.’  [This young man] recovered his faith and his morals and everything else, in his neighbor.”  

 

Here we have a young man, who, like Hannah Stern, was all wrapped up in himself—until he lived among the poor in Mexico, and learned to be a giver and not a taker.

Let’s pray that we will learn the same lesson on this feast of the Epiphany—and live it throughout the year.