The First Outpouring of the Holy Spirit: for Forgiveness

 

(Pentecost 2023 (A): This homily was given on May 28, 2023 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Acts 2:1-11; Psalm 104:1,24,29-30,31,34; 1 Corinthians 12:3-13; John 20:19-23.)

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

I’m sure that many of you remember the great comedian, Red Skelton.  He performed back in the days when most comics didn’t feel the need to use 4-letter words in their comedy routines.

 

Ah, the good old days.

 

I read an interesting story about Red a few years ago.  It seems that, one day back in 1951, he was on a plane that was headed to Europe, where he was scheduled to perform in a show.  But on the way, as the plane was flying over the Swiss Alps, three of its engines failed and the plane began to go down.  The situation looked rather bleak (to put it mildly!), and many of the passengers quite naturally began to pray.  As for Red Skelton, he responded to the situation by doing what he did best: he went into a comedy routine—to try to distract the passengers from the impending disaster.  He was like the orchestra on the Titanic that played music as the ship slowly sank into the North Atlantic.

 

Well, thankfully, at the last moment, the pilot spotted a large field between two of the mountains there in the Alps, and he was able to land the plane safely in that field.

 

When the ordeal was finally over, Red stood up and—in typical Red Skelton style—said, “Now, ladies and gentlemen, you may return to all the evil habits you gave up twenty minutes ago.”

 

Which brings us to this morning’s gospel reading from John, chapter 20.  Today, as I mentioned at the beginning of Mass, we celebrate the feast of Pentecost, which was the event we heard about in our first reading from Acts, chapter 2.  This was the moment when the promise Jesus had made to his Apostles at the Last Supper was completely fulfilled.  This was the moment of the first Confirmation, when the Holy Spirit descended on these men and gave them power—new power: the power to live the truth of the Gospel, and speak the truth of the Gospel, and defend the truth of the Gospel.  This was the moment when they received gifts—the spiritual gifts they would need to carry out the mission Jesus had given them to convert the world: first and foremost, the gifts of faith, hope and charity; but also the seven gifts mentioned in Isaiah 11 (wisdom, understanding, knowledge, etc.); as well as the charismatic gifts like tongues, prophecy and healing.

 

The Spirit empowered them through this spectacular event, and they were transformed.  Suddenly they were no longer afraid of their own shadows.  Suddenly they were not intimidated by the godless culture they were living in.  Instead, they made the decision to use the gifts the Spirit gave to them that day, and change their culture in a positive way from within—which is exactly what we’re supposed to do in our culture today with the anointing we receive at our Confirmation. 

 

But it’s not magic!  Notice, I said that the Apostles made the decision to use the gifts of the Spirit to work for positive change.  The fact is, you can receive the gifts of the Spirit at Confirmation (as many of our young people do today) and do absolutely nothing positive with those graces.  In that case, you most certainly will be intimidated by the culture we’re currently living in, and eventually overpowered by it.  This, unfortunately, happens more often than not these days.  If you need some proof, just get hold of some statistics on how many confirmed Catholic young people support things like abortion and transgenderism and so-called gay marriage.

 

At this point, I’ll bet it’s way over 50%.

 

But as important as it is to receive—and use—the gifts of the Holy Spirit in our lives, there is something even more basic that the Spirit brings to us, which is why Jesus didn’t wait until Pentecost to begin pouring out the Spirit on his first priests.  As we heard in today’s gospel, Jesus first sent the Spirit to his Apostles way back on Easter Sunday (a full fifty days before Pentecost).

 

Why?

 

So that they could forgive sins in his name!

 

The Spirit was given first so that sins could be forgiven—which should make perfect sense to us because, if a person is steeped in sin, any spiritual gifts he may have won’t matter. 

 

They won’t matter at all.

 

Forgiveness is primary—and necessary.  This is something, by the way, that Red Skelton definitely understood.  It’s why he said what he said on that plane back in 1951.  Red knew that when the passengers on that aircraft thought they were about to die, most of them were not especially interested in how much wisdom and knowledge they possessed, or whether they could pray in tongues or not.  What they were most concerned with at that decisive (and scary) moment was where they stood before God!  And it was that concern which led them to want to give up what Red called their “evil habits”—that is to say, the sins they had committed but had not yet repented of.

 

Red knew.

 

“[Jesus] breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.  Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.’”

 

This is where priests get the power to forgive sins in the sacrament of Reconciliation.

 

And so, if you want to determine how active the Holy Spirit is in your life at any given time, the first question you should ask yourself is not, “What spiritual gifts do I have?”  No, no, no.  The very first question you should ask yourself is, “How repentant am I—how repentant am I for my sins—and how often do I express my repentance humbly and sincerely and honestly by bringing those sins to Jesus in the confessional?

 

It’s my simple prayer today that in the future the Holy Spirit will be very, very active both in your life and in mine.

 

Love and Obedience

"St. Augustine" by Caravaggio

(Sixth Sunday of Easter (A): This homily was given on May 14, 2023, at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Acts 8:5-17; Psalm 66:1-20; 1 Peter 3:15-18; John 14:15-21.)

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

My homily today is entitled, “Love and Obedience.”

In the minds of many people these days, those are two ideas that definitely don’t go together, spiritually speaking.  And this is true even for many Christians!  They say they love God (and I presume most are sincere in making that assertion), but they also believe that obedience to his commandments is optional (here I include the Ten Commandments, as well as the other commandments that Jesus gives us in Scripture and through his Church—like the commandment to love your enemies).

But Jesus never said these laws were optional!  Quite oppositely, our Lord made a direct connection between love and obedience on many occasions.  He did it twice in today’s gospel.  He began by saying, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”  Then later on he added, “Whoever has my commandments and observes them is the one who loves me.”

This is a fitting gospel, incidentally, for Mother’s Day.  When I was young I remember that when I asked my mom what she wanted for her birthday or Christmas or Mother’s Day, she’d almost always give me the same answer.  She’d say, “I don’t want anything material.  Just be nice to your sister.  Just obey me when I ask you to do things.  That’s all I want.  That’s what will make me happy.  That will show me that you love me.”

To which I would typically respond, “Aw ma, come on.  Be serious.”

But she was being serious!

In the Christian life, obedience is supposed to flow from love; it’s supposed to be rooted in love: the love of a Person (a divine Person) whose name is Jesus Christ.

To the extent that that’s the case—to the extent that our obedience is rooted in love, it will actually be easy; to the extent that our obedience rooted in obligation or something else, it will be difficult.

Bishop Sheen had a great way of illustrating this.  He said, “There isn’t a driver [among us] who hasn’t broken the law against speeding.  [But] did you ever lean over your steering wheel and say an act of contrition [afterward]?  Nobody is really sorry for breaking a law, unless he gets caught.”

Sheen was right.  Keeping a commandment for the sake of keeping a commandment doesn’t provide much motivation for doing what’s right, whereas keeping a commandment out of love for another person does provide that incentive.

Love for God will motivate us to obey him; and it will lead us to repent when we don’t obey him—because we will be conscious of having hurt someone we love. 

Let me change Bishop Sheen’s example just a bit to illustrate this point.  Imagine that you broke the speed limit law one day, drove recklessly and nearly got into a serious accident—with your two little children in the back seat of the car.

In that case, would you say an act of contrition afterward for travelling so fast?

You should!  In fact, I would say that you should probably bring that sin to confession.

In any event, you’d be far more likely to realize you broke a law and to repent in a situation like that, simply because what you did directly affected two people whom you dearly love.

So, if you’re having difficulty obeying one or more of God’s commandments, ask the Lord to fill your heart with love for him.  I do that all the time, in the midst of my own sins—because I know if I love God more I will obey him more (and sin less!).

Here we can all take a lesson from Augustine and his experience back in the 4^th century.  Most of us know the basic outline of his story. …

For his first three decades on earth Augustine lived a lifestyle that would have made Hugh Hefner, the founder of Playboy magazine, proud.  That is to say, for his first three decades on earth Augustine lived the life of a hedonist.  His constant prayer was, “Lord, make me chaste—but not now!”  Yes, he believed in God, but for him, God was “out there.”  For him the Lord was an abstraction to be discussed in a philosophical debate—and God’s commandments were simply a bunch of arbitrary rules that threatened the lifestyle he had chosen to embrace.  Well, finally, thanks in large part to his mother Monica’s faithful prayers, Augustine had an experience of God’s love through the Sacred Scriptures. 

It happened one day when he was in the city of Milan with a friend, trying to make sense of his messed-up life. As is the case for most hedonists, Augustine’s years of debauchery had left him empty and confused and on the verge of despair.   Well, at one point he heard a child off in the distance singing a song that he had never heard before.  One of the lines in the song really struck him: “Pick it up and read it.  Pick it up and read it.”  He thought that maybe God was trying to speak to him at that moment, and so he found a copy of the Bible and picked it up, making the decision to read the very first passage his eyes fell upon.  That turned out to be the text from Romans 13 where St. Paul says, “Not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual excess and lust, not in quarreling and jealousy.  Rather, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh.”

At that moment, God reached out to Augustine with his love and mercy—and Augustine knew it!  That proved to be the turning point in his life.

Many years later, reflecting back on his three decades of sin and his subsequent conversion, Augustine wrote this prayer to God—the God he had clearly fallen in love with:

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

It is not a coincidence, my brothers and sisters, that Augustine changed his life in a radically positive way.

He was touched by the love of God; he began to love God in return—and in response to the love he experienced from God, he was also motivated to obey.  And he obeyed so well, that he eventually became a saint.

It’s my prayer today that we will all follow that very same pattern in our lives.

 

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.