When the Name of Jesus is Said, What do You Think of?

 

(Fourth Sunday of Easter (B): This homily was given on April 25, 2021 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Acts 4:8-12; Psalm 118:1-29; 1 John 3:1-2; John 10:11-18.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Fourth Sunday of Easter 2021]

Sometimes all you have to do is say the name.  That’s all that’s necessary.  Say the name, and certain images and ideas will immediately come to mind.

For example, say the name “Tom Brady” and most people will immediately think of football games, clutch passes and world championships.  Say the name “Albert Einstein,” and people will think of science, and intelligence and complicated formulas.  Saying the name “Mother Teresa” will lead, quite naturally, to thoughts of prayer and holiness and self-sacrifice.  Say the name “Fr. Ray” and some will immediately have thoughts of a big mouth about the size of the Grand Canyon.  Others might think of Sominex, if they’re among the people who “snooze through” his homily every week.

Which brings us to Jesus Christ: the King of kings; the Lord of lords; the Son of God; the Savior of the world!  When the name of Jesus is said, what do people think of?  In this case, my brothers and sisters, it’s hard to say.  Hopefully we’re like the apostles in this regard.  When the apostles heard the name of Jesus, a number of wonderful ideas filled their minds.  They thought of God’s love and God’s gift of salvation.  They thought of power—the power present in the name of Jesus to forgive sins, and expel demons, and cure the sick and raise the dead.  When the name of Jesus was mentioned, the apostles had thoughts of reverence, awe and mercy.  They had thoughts of gratitude.  They had thoughts of joy.  They had thoughts of heaven.  Today’s first reading from Acts 4 illustrates this beautifully.  Peter is speaking here to the Jewish authorities about a crippled man who had just been healed.  The man had asked Peter and John for an alms, and Peter responded, “I have neither silver nor gold, but what I have I give you!  In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, walk!” 

And the man walked!  Incredibly, he walked!  Later on, when the members of the Sanhedrin questioned him about it, Peter said the words we heard a few moments ago: “Leaders of the people!  Elders!  If we must answer today for a good deed done to a cripple and explain how he was restored to health, then you and all the people of Israel must realize that it was done in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean whom you crucified and whom God raised from the dead.  In the power of that name this man stands before you perfectly sound. . . . There is no salvation in anyone else, for there is no other name in the whole world given to men by which we are to be saved.”

These are some of the holy thoughts the apostles had when they said (or heard) the name of Jesus.  However, in our modern world, not everyone has such sacred thoughts regarding the name of the Lord.  And here I’m not only referring to non-believers; I’m also referring to some who would call themselves believing Christians.  For example, when some contemporary Christians say the name of Jesus they don’t have the wonderful thoughts the apostles had; believe it or not, these people think of their thumbs.  (Yes, you heard me correctly: they think of their thumbs!)  Others think of their toes.  Others think of their disobedient children or their aggravating boss. 

Why do I say this?  Simple—it’s because the only time these individuals say the name of Jesus in public is when they hit their thumb with a hammer, or when they stub their toe, or when they get angry at their relatives or their boss!  It reminds me of something a comedian said once in one of his comic routines.  He said that for years he actually thought his name was Jesus Christ—because those were always the first words out of his father’s mouth whenever his dad would get angry at him.

Here is something that some of us may need to get very serious about.  I would say that it’s an absolute disgrace when Christians profane the Lord’s sacred name—this name that the apostles held in such reverence!  Now you might say, “But Fr. Ray, it’s just a habit—a nasty habit.  I really don’t mean it.”  Well, if that’s the case for us then we need to work hard at breaking the habit!  We need to find other, more appropriate ways to express our anger or surprise.  In today’s second reading from 1 John 3 it says, “See what love the Father has bestowed on us in letting us be called children of God!  Yet that is what we are.”  We are the adopted children of God the Father, the brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ, and yet amazingly some of us will use our elder brother’s name as a curse word!  Would we do that with one of our earthly siblings?  I sincerely doubt it.

Of course we also need to be aware of the fact that there are other ways to profane the Lord’s name.  In the examination of conscience that I sometimes give out to people, here are two of the questions for reflection that are listed under the second commandment (“Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.”):

Number 1: Have I been hypocritical by adhering to a ritualistic observance [of my religion] while not actually living out my faith in practice?

Number 2: In conversation, have I passively [acquiesced] to slander and to jokes aimed at demeaning religion, the Church, or God’s authority?

The message contained in those questions is this: If we’re not really sincere about trying to apply the Gospel message to our daily lives, or if we verbally demean the things of God, or if we engage in public defiance of the Church (something that Catholics like our current President do on a regular basis), then we are guilty of profaning the Lord’s name.  We’re profaning his name because as Christians we are known to be the brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ—but we’re not conducting ourselves accordingly!

How very different the saints were!  The other day I read an account of the martyrdom of Paul Miki and his companions.  Paul Miki was born in Japan back in the 16th century.  He entered the Jesuits at a young age and did some marvelous work evangelizing the Japanese people.  Eventually, however, a persecution broke out against the Church, and he and twenty-five others (including some young children) were condemned to death and crucified. 

But here’s the interesting fact about their martyrdom: as they were hanging there on their crosses, minutes from death, they were all saying the name of Jesus—over and over and over again.  These holy souls found strength and peace in the Lord’s name—the strength and peace they desperately needed at that decisive moment.  They experienced those graces because they said his name with a deep love, a deep reverence, a deep faith.  That’s the type of example we should all want to follow.

Our Lord once said, “Whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you.”  That’s a beautiful reminder that countless blessings are available to us through the name of the Lord: the blessing of healing (when it’s God’s will); the blessing of mercy and forgiveness; the blessing of God’s peace. 

Some of you were probably taught in Catholic school or in Catechism class to bow your head slightly whenever you heard or said the name of Jesus.  Praise God!  I think that’s a marvelous gesture of faith and reverence; a gesture that reminds us of the attitude we should always have in our hearts toward name of the Savior of the world. 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, may your name be praised and glorified by each and every one of us and by every Catholic—now and forever.  Amen.

Make a Holy Week Schedule and Set a Holy Week Goal—like Jesus did!

(Palm Sunday 2021 (B): This homily was given on March 28, 2021 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Isaiah 50:4-7; Psalm 22; Philippians 2:6-11; Mark 11:1-10; Mark 14:1-15:47.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Palm Sunday 2021]

 

Jesus began the very first Holy Week with a schedule and a goal.  He didn’t begin the week by saying, “If I have some extra time during the next several days, I suppose I’ll give it to my heavenly Father.  I’ll see what the week brings, and, if it’s convenient, I’ll do his will and save the world.”  No!  As he was riding that donkey into the city of Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, Jesus knew exactly what he planned to do on Holy Thursday and Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  It was already written into his schedule!  He knew that he would celebrate the Passover with his disciples on Thursday night.  He knew where it would happen.  He knew he would institute the Eucharist and the Priesthood at that meal—his “Last Supper.”  He knew he would spend time later that night in the Garden of Gethsemane, and take upon himself the sins of the whole world.  He knew he would bring those sins to the Cross the next day, and pour out his precious blood so that they could be forgiven.  And—happily—he also knew he would rise from the dead three days later!  We know this because he had predicted it a number of times during his ministry.

Catholics and other Christians will tell you that they want to imitate Jesus in their lives.  That, of course, is a most-worthy ambition.  I wholeheartedly approve!  To signify this desire some will even wear bracelets and other assorted objects with WWJD written on them.  (WWJD stands for “What would Jesus do?”)  Well, when it comes to Holy Week, my brothers and sisters, we don’t have to wonder what Jesus would do, because we know exactly what he did do!  He made a schedule, followed it perfectly, and attained his goal—the salvation of the human race.

Today I offer a simple challenge: imitate your Savior in your approach to Holy Week.  If you’re really serious about following Jesus Christ and growing stronger in faith and charity, then do what he did on Palm Sunday: make a schedule and set a goal—a spiritual goal for yourself.  The goal may be to come to a deeper understanding of God’s love for you; it might be to find the strength you need to carry your cross; it might be to find the grace to be more charitable or patient.  The ceremonies of Holy Week are designed to help you attain this goal, so make every effort to put them into your schedule now!  In this regard, we will have our usual daily Masses on Monday through Wednesday.  We’ll also have Mass at 6 PM on Wednesday, preceded by confessions at 5.  We will have Morning Prayer Thursday through Saturday at the usual Mass times.  We will have adoration on Tuesday (as usual), and Stations Tuesday evening.  The Easter Triduum begins with the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Thursday at 7 PM, followed by adoration of the Blessed Sacrament in the church hall until 11 PM.  On Friday we will have Stations of the Cross twice: once outside at noon; then, at 3 PM, here in church.  The celebration of the Lord’s Passion will take place on Friday evening at 7; and the first Mass of Easter—the glorious celebration of the Easter Vigil—will be held at 7:30 PM on Saturday night. 

That’s our St. Pius Holy Week schedule.  I give it to you today so that you can make your personal Holy Week schedule today!  Please, please, please: don’t wait to see what the week will bring before you do so!  If you make the mistake of waiting, other things will get in the way for sure.  And with the help of the risen Christ, may all of us who do make time for the Lord during these sacred days attain our goals by Easter Sunday—as Jesus attained his. 

Lent: A Time to Get Right with the Family

 

(This homily was given on March 21, 2021 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Jeremiah 31:31-34; Psalm 51:3-15; Hebrews 5:7-9; John 12:20-33.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Fifth Sunday of Lent 2021]

 

Lent is a time to “get right with the family”—and here I’m not alluding to the Mafia!  Nor am I referring directly to our blood relatives; although the process of “getting right with the family” certainly involves our getting right with our blood relatives.  But it doesn’t only refer to them.

“Fr. Ray, what are you getting at?”  Well, if someone asked you the question, “What is a covenant?” how would you respond?  I think that many people, perhaps most people, would answer by comparing a covenant to a contract.  But actually, from a biblical perspective, that would be a very poor comparison to use.  Why?  Because a contract is a legal transaction between two individuals who may have little or no personal commitment to one another.  For example, you can have a contract with someone you don’t even know.  Some of you may have contracts with people whom you’ve never met personally.  You can even have a contract—a legal, binding agreement—with someone you strongly dislike.  A covenant is different.  A covenant goes much deeper.  The best definition of a covenant that I ever heard was from Dr. Scott Hahn of the Franciscan University of Steubenville.  He described a covenant as a “family-like bond.”  That means that when you’re in a covenant with another person you’re in a committed relationship—a deeply committed relationship; the kind of relationship that we’re supposed to have with members of our biological families.

Throughout the Old Testament, as most of us know, God made covenants with his people.  He made a covenant with Noah.  He made a covenant with Abraham.  He made one with Moses.  But all of these covenants—all of these family bonds—were imperfect.  And they were broken quite often; not by God, of course, but by his people. 

This is why, by the way, the Old Testament constantly uses the image of marriage to describe the Lord’s relationship with Israel.  Marriage is a covenant bond between a man and a woman.  It’s not simply a legal contract.  This also explains why Israel’s unfaithfulness in the Old Testament is always compared to adultery.  As we all know, there’s no more serious sin against the covenant of marriage than the sin of adultery.

Thankfully God, in his great love, was not content with these imperfect family bonds between himself and his people.  So even though we didn’t deserve the perfect family bond with the Lord, he gave it to us anyway—through his son, Jesus Christ.  All this having been said, listen once again now to today’s first reading, because this is the covenant that Jeremiah is prophesying about:

The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah.  It will not be like the covenant I made with their fathers the day I took them by the hand to lead them forth from the land of Egypt; for they broke my covenant, and I had to show myself their master, says the Lord.  But this is the covenant which I will make with the house of Israel after those days says the Lord.  I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people.  No longer will they have need to teach their friends and kinsmen how to know the Lord.  All, from least to greatest, shall know me, says the Lord, for I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more.

This new covenant in Jesus Christ brings us the gift of eternal salvation.  Yes, it’s a covenant that we can still break by committing serious, mortal sin.  If we do that, and then die without repenting, we do forfeit God’s marvelous gift.  But, as St. Paul tells us in his first letter to Timothy, even when we are unfaithful in this life, God still remains faithful.  And so, unlike the people in the Old Testament, if we want forgiveness for our serious sins, we don’t have to sacrifice bulls and goats and sheep.  The sacrifice of Jesus was sufficient to cleanse us of every sin.  So all we have to do is humbly admit the sin and accept his gift of mercy (admit and accept)—which is precisely what we do when we make a good confession.

That brings me back to what I said at the beginning of my homily: Lent is a time to get right with the family.  Hopefully, you see what I’m getting at: Lent is a time for reconciliation not only with God, but also with our brothers and sisters in God’s family.  And this is one reason why confession to a validly ordained priest is so important.  In the sacrament of Reconciliation, the priest not only represents Jesus Christ.  He also represents all our brothers and sisters in the family of God.  Therefore, when the priest absolves us, we are reconciled vertically and horizontally—in other words with God, and with others! Some people are fond of saying, “I don’t need to go to a priest.  I just go to the Lord.”  Well, that’s all very nice.  The problem is, our sins don’t just affect our relationship with God!  Our sins, even the ones committed in secret, affect our relationships with other people.  For example, I can sit in my room all by myself and have angry, hateful thoughts that nobody else is aware of.  But if that happens, I guarantee you that it will affect my relationships with others.  It will certainly affect the next unfortunate soul who calls me on the phone—”Gee, Fr. Ray, why are you yelling at me?  I just called to find out what time the next Mass was!”

So the real question for us to face today is this one: Am I willing to do what I need to do, to get right with my family (with my spiritual family)?  In practical terms, that means: Am I willing to look at myself honestly?  Am I willing to make a thorough examination of conscience and confess everything I need to?  Now that’s not as easy a task as it may appear to be, because as fallen human beings we all have a tendency to rationalize and sweep things under the rug.  Some sins we can face and confess easily.  But others are much more difficult to come to terms with.  For example, statistics show that the majority of Catholic couples today use artificial contraception.  I think most priests would tell you that this is a sin that they rarely hear confessed.  It’s become so socially acceptable, that’s it’s very easily swept under the rug. 

We can easily rationalize sexual sins like this by saying, “Oh, it’s not that bad.  A lot of people do things that are much worse.” 

We can easily rationalize sins of unforgiveness and hatred and revenge by saying, “Well, it only serves them right.  They asked for it!” 

We can easily rationalize a sin like stealing from an employer—stealing goods or stealing time—by saying, “My boss makes enough money, he’ll never miss any of this.”

We say that a covenant is a family-like bond.  Well, if there’s one thing that will ruin any family bond, it’s dishonesty; it’s the practice of sweeping things under the rug.  This is certainly the case in our biological families, and it’s also the case in our spiritual family.  For years I’ve told teenagers: “Do you really want to mess up your relationship with your parents?  Then lie!  That’s all you have to do.  Some night soon, tell them you’re going to the library, and then go out with your friends.  Some other night, when they go out, tell them that you’re planning to stay home to study; then have all your friends over for a wild party.  That’ll do the trick; just be deceitful.  But, if you want a good, solid, stable relationship with your mom and dad; if you want them to trust you more and give you more freedom—then be honest; be up front.  Don’t try to pull the wool over their eyes.  Sure, sometimes being honest will be difficult.  Sometimes being honest will be painful.  But, in the long run, it will pay off.”

And so it is in our relationship with God.  Sometimes it’s hard to be totally honest.  Sometimes it’s painful, and sometimes it can even be a little bit embarrassing.  But, my brothers and sisters, it really is the only way to get right—and to stay right—with the family.  It’s my prayer that all of us “get right” during this season of Lent.

“I’ve fallen and I CAN’T get up”; “I’ve fallen but I WON’T get up.” Which of those best describes your attitude right now?

(Third Sunday of Lent (B): This homily was given on March 7, 2021 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Exodus 20:1-17; Psalm 19:8-11; 1 Corinthians 1:22-25; John 2:13-25.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Third Sunday of Lent 2021]

 

Our Bishop, Thomas Tobin, began a column he wrote several years ago in the Rhode Island Catholic with these words:

I’m sure you’ve seen the commercial. An elderly lady has fallen down the steps in her home, is seriously injured and unable to move to the telephone when she cries out, “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” The commercial promotes Life Alert Emergency Response, a medical alert pendant that’s used to notify dispatchers about someone’s health emergency.  Although I haven’t yet had any personal experience with Life Alert, I’m sure it’s a fine product and a useful service that has assisted many individuals, perhaps even saved some lives. But it occurs to me that the phrase “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” serves well as a description of the human condition we need to confront during the Season of Lent.  It’s true—as a human family, and as individuals, we’ve indeed fallen, very far and in many ways, and a thoughtful, faith-filled person will quickly recognize that we need God’s help if we are to arise and walk again.

The majority of the rest of the Bishop’s column explores how we can access that help from the Lord, especially through our Lenten disciplines of prayer and self-denial and charity.

But there’s a presumption behind our Bishop’s words in this article.  He presumes that we actually WANT to “get up”!  He presumes that his readers are people who honestly examine their lives every day in light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and then strive for perfection through repentance.  Put in the terms of today’s Gospel reading, he presumes that his readers are constantly working to keep their “temples” as clean as possible.

And that’s certainly a reasonable presumption with respect to readers of the Rhode Island Catholic newspaper. 

But the fact is (and our Bishop knows this as well as anybody) there are a lot of people in our world right now who are quite content to be living in a state of sin—a state of serious sin.  They’re attitude is not, “I’ve fallen and I CAN’T get up”; they’re attitude is, “I’ve fallen but I WON’T get up!”—“I’ve fallen but I don’t have ANY INTEREST WHATSOEVER in getting up!”

This all came to mind as I reflected on today’s first reading from Exodus 20.  There we are presented with the Ten Commandments.  Notice that they’re not called the “Ten Suggestions”; they’re not called the “Ten Recommendations”.  They’re called the Ten Commandments—which means they’re as binding on us in 2021 as they were on the people of ancient Israel at the time of Moses.  (And if you don’t believe me, just look in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  A large section of Part 3 of the Catechism is a reflection on the Ten Commandments and how they apply to us today, in our modern world.)

These Commandments are a gift—a gift from God, giving us the guidelines we need to follow in order to live lives of relative peace and happiness.  I hope you realize, my brothers and sisters, if everyone on planet earth right now lived his or her life according to these ten directives, planet earth would be a very different—and a much better—place.

But a lot of people today are not living them, and many of these individuals aren’t interested in even trying to live them—and that’s a huge problem, as Bishop Tobin notes in his column.

And those who disobey often have excuses—interesting and sometimes very clever excuses—as to why they disobey, and as to why their disobedience is actually a great thing!

I’ll bet that you’ve heard some of these excuses before—many times!  For example …

Excuse #1 for not obeying the Ten Commandments: “God told me.  God told me to disobey.”

That excuse is used, of course, by people who are mentally ill and hear strange voices in their heads.  But, sad to say, it’s also used by a lot of other people who are completely sane.

Like the radical Muslim jihadists who have been wreaking havoc all over the world for a number of decades now!  Ask those evil men why they kill innocent people in such barbaric ways and they’ll tell you without any hesitation whatsoever: “Because God has told us to!  We are commanded in the Koran either to convert or to kill all infidels, and that’s precisely what we do!”

And if you said to them, “But that’s wrong!  It’s not only contrary to the Ten Commandments, it’s also contrary to right reason.  It’s contrary to right reason to kill the innocent,” they’d reply by saying, “We don’t care about your ‘reason’; we’re not interested in being ‘reasonable’!  Allah has told us to kill, so we kill!”

That’s the first excuse people use for disobeying the Commandments: “God told me to.”

Let me quickly mention some others which are even more prevalent—especially in our modern American society.

Excuse #2: “Everybody is doing it.”

No, everybody isn’t doing it—whatever “it” happens to be; whatever sin it is that you’re talking about.

Excuse #3: “It’s my body, and I’ll do whatever I want with it.”

Well, it may be your body, but remember: what you do with it will have consequences—both here AND in eternity.  And, in the case of abortion, it’s NOT YOUR BODY, it’s someone else’s!  That’s the issue!

Excuse #4: “The ‘experts’ tell me it’s okay.”  That one is used to try to justify everything from self-abuse to cheating on one’s taxes.

Excuse #5: “It’s legal, so it’s okay.”  Of course, slavery was once legal in this country, as was segregation—and neither of those two things was “okay”.

Excuse #6: “I’m not hurting anybody.”  People who use this one forget that every sin—even a sin that somebody commits “in private”—changes the sinner, and affects that sinner in a negative way in his or her relationships with others.

And, finally, excuse #7 that people use for disobeying the Ten Commandments: “I have to follow my conscience.”  That excuse was probably used by some of the rioters and looters of this past summer, as well as the people who caused the riot at the Capitol on January 6.

And, of course, it is true.  The Catholic Church does teach that we should always follow the dictates of our conscience.  As it says in paragraph 1782 of the Catechism: “Man has the right to act in conscience and in freedom so as personally to make moral decisions. ‘He must not be forced to act contrary to his conscience. Nor must he be prevented from acting according to his conscience, especially in religious matters.’”

But that’s only half the story!  The corollary of that teaching is that we are personally responsible for forming our consciences properly!  And, according to paragraph 1783 of the Catechism, what is supposed to guide us in forming our consciences properly is “the Word of God”—which includes (yes, you guessed it!) the Ten Commandments.

“I’ve fallen and I CAN’T get up”; “I’ve fallen but I WON’T get up.”

When all is said and done, my brothers and sisters, everyone—without exception—goes through life with one of those two attitudes dominating.

Notice that the first part of each statement is the same: “I’ve fallen.”  That’s because we have all “fallen”—that is to say, we’re all sinners in need of God’s forgiveness.  The difference between the two groups is that those in the first one have the opportunity to receive that forgiveness, while those in the second one have willingly closed themselves off from that opportunity.

Hopefully those of us who are in that first group will make it a point to seek the Lord’s pardon sometime during this season of Lent by making a good confession.

Like the elderly who have Life Alert pendants, we cannot raise ourselves up after we fall into sin, but God can “raise us up”—and God does raise us up, spiritually, in that great sacrament of Reconciliation.

So, when was the last time you went to confession?