27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

I sure HEAR a lot about God these days. And Jesus, too. Lots and lots of stuff about Jesus. Even the Spirit comes up once in a while. And I am not referring to here at the parish, but rather about out in the world. And it doesn’t make me happy. What? Did I just say that? I’m being serious. Of course, what I’m saying is it’s not THAT I’m hearing a lot about God that makes me unhappy. It’s the WAY I’m hearing God “used” that concerns me. So many people these days use “God language” all the time. Conversations are now peppered with the word “blessed” so often and so randomly that it’s kind of lost its meaning. Commercials sometimes use religious words and imagery to market a product that has nothing to do with anything religious --- probably as a way of getting the attention of the consumers they are targeting. People send countless emojis of praying hands for almost every kind of situation, ….are people actually praying? A batter hits a home run and starts his post-game interview giving God the credit. (Although does that mean the pitcher who gave up the homer gets to give God the blame?) Is that really who we think God is, or is it just a way to “cover our bases”? (Pun intended!) And don’t get me started on the use of God-talk in the political sphere. It’s used in campaigns and speeches and arguments and all sorts of situations --- almost always to send signals to certain people --- that is, to tell listeners, “See? I’m good. Not like those OTHER people.” Words. Words. Words. God it seems, Jesus it seems, Christianity it seems, has become a kind of brand, a kind of consumer product, a catch-phrase, an ad campaign, something often used by a person to get someone else to feel a certain way about that person. Sometimes I wonder if I do the same thing. Maybe we should all wonder. We just heard a very simple story. One son said the wrong thing, but eventually DID the right thing. The other son SAID the right thing, but ultimately did the wrong thing. Jesus asked the chief priests and elders, “Which of the two did his father’s will?” They answered him correctly --- the first son. Jesus replies (to them, and to us), “Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you.” That verse from the mouth of Jesus should sober us up. We Christians spend a lot of time talking about God. We often say the right things. Invoke his name from time to time. Pepper our conversations with a few religious words. We even talk as if we know the mind of God. And of course, we so often look with suspicion on those who don’t exactly talk about God in this way. What we fail to take an honest look at are ACTIONS --- those of others, but most especially our OWN actions. Are we like the son who said the words he felt his father wanted to hear, but who never followed through, never DID what the father asked of him? Do we do similar things all the time? You see, whether we like it or not, there’s only one measure of authentic faith --- and it has nothing to do with saying the right things or choosing the right words. What matters is how we live. Do our lives look anything like the life of Jesus? Do we love people others consider unlovable? Do we care for people no one else wants to care for? Do we serve in the vineyard, or only in a way that really doesn’t cost us much time or energy? Do we forgive the “unforgivable” things --- the things that hurt us deeply? And maybe most importantly, do we strive to see Jesus in every person? Or do we just talk a good game --- that is, just consider the words themselves as evidence that everything is right between us and God? I’m convinced that whatever threats there are to Christianity (large or small) many don’t really come from the outside. That’s just a convenient thing to believe. Many actually come from within. Christians can be the biggest threat to Christianity --- every time our actions don’t reflect the beliefs we profess with our words. Every time we make unfair judgments about people. Every time we fail to be kind. Every time we think we’re better than someone else. Every time we support beliefs and actions that are against the moral teachings of the Gospel and our faith. Now, our words do matter. (Even our praying hands emojis and religious greeting cards and faith-based bumper stickers and crosses hanging from our necks matter.) They really do. And not to small degree. They can help bring about some pretty important things --- healing, insight, comfort, encouragement, clarity, counsel, even faith. As you know, the message we are called to proclaim is ultimately “good news” --- the kind of message that transforms hearts and minds and lives. And words must be a significant part of the proclamation of eternal salvation, and so, by all means --- continue to speak of faith, and be transparent about your faith every chance you get. But we must make sure of two things. One --- that our use of God-talk (for lack of a better phrase) always comes from a place of love. And secondly --- we must make sure our ACTIONS (the only true evidence of faith) match what we profess to believe. Invite people to join you in living the faith in specific ways, not just discussing topics of faith. May Jesus in the Eucharist help us draw more souls to Him.

Twenty-fifth Sunday in O.T– Sept. 19, 2026 Readings: Is. 55:6-9 • Phil. 1:20c-24, 27a • Matt. 20:1-16a Desire for our true God. Dcn. Bill Kenney “The desire for God is written in the human heart, because man is created by and for God.” (this profound statement is from the Catechism CCC 27). Can we know more, better, and faster than God for what is just, wanting, and pleasing in our lives? A news broadcast recently reported that due to the secularization and apostacy of believers in the US, AI has become their new god, a creation of man, having infinite awareness: an omniscient, all-knowing entity, instantaneously understanding the past, present, and future. Sounds dangerously familiar to the ancient Israelites turning to and worshiping false god golden calves and idols of their own making. The prophets tell us of God’s wrath, justice, and mercy to straighten them out, to return them as a covenant people of God. Pope Leo XIV expresses his concerns with AI in his encyclical, Magnificent Humanity. AI could have [a Garden of Eden or] Tower of Babel effect: people seeking to become god-like, people without relationship in the one true God. Calamities in AI implementation could follow if not guided by a moral purpose and pursuit of truth for the dignity and social welfare of mankind. In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks to us of a landowner’s prerogative to hire and pay workers as he sees fit. As with all parables, there is a profound truth revealing the omniscient divinity of God and his providence in our lives. We hear of God’s judgement, wisdom, generosity, and mercy in dealing within a seemingly controversial parable of hired worker’s compensation. An exegesis, a deeper meaning of this parable can be inferred: the kingdom of heaven is open to all who seek the Lord. Consider all the saints and martyrs who lived and died in Christ such as the Apostles, Sts. Stephen, Teresa of Calcutta, and Maximillian Kolbe. These and many others devoutly worshipped and sacrificed their entire lives for the glory of God and his Church. They are the early chosen laborers who have worked all day for the Lord. Consider also the death-bed converts, those who delay repentance and suddenly come to faith after living a life of debauchery and sin. They are those laborers selected to work the vineyard late in the day. Both groups receive the same “wage”, eternal life. But why? Is that fair? Where’s the justice? In our Gospel account, the all-day laborer’s grumbling is understandable, but is it Christian? We can, at times, sound like Job debating God’s ways and wisdom. God questions him, “Where were you when I founded the earth? Have the gates of death been shown to you?” From Isaiah, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.” God, the Landowner, also questions the jealous early chosen laborers in our Gospel: “…am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous? How often do we compare ourselves to others in envy? In all righteousness, we must trust and accept God’s judgement and wisdom because we know he loves us and sees the big picture from all eternity. As the Psalmist says, “The LORD is just in all his ways and holy in all his works.” We should rejoice and be glad, not jealous or spiteful, for every soul that is rewarded with blessings of prosperity now, in their temporal lives, and in the eternal joy of heaven. In sincerity and strength of heart, we must pray for each other, “…lead all souls to heaven, especially those in MOST NEED of thy mercy.” And “…pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” On behalf of the dead, we pray that “God …. does not count their deeds against them,… so may your mercy join them to the Angels in heaven”. How can we emulate others’ good qualities without envying them? Let’s not think and act that we know better than God, for in his judgement, wisdom, generosity, and mercy he wants the best for us out of great love for us. Accept that gift of love. Open your heart to realize your innate desire for God and grow in trust and faith. “Turn to the Lord for mercy; to our God who is generous and forgiving.” Our faith too needs to be grounded in the truth that is Jesus Christ present in the holy Eucharist before us. This Eucharist is the only Son of our omniscient God, our Creator, not a false AI god we created. Be at peace in God’s wisdom and grace in our lives. Pray for and bless each other so that all may gather for work in the vineyard. Together may we, as Paul says, “…conduct yourselves in a way worthy of the gospel of Christ.”- as we seek all things for the glory of God.

“So will my heavenly Father do to you . . .” Does God give us what we deserve? Think about it. Does God give us what we deserve? It seems like kind of an easy question at first, but the “answer” might be more challenging than we think. I guess it depends on what we think we “deserve”. For those of us who have lived a pretty decent life --- we probably hope that is the case, that good choices in life have sort of “earned” us God’s favor. But for those of us who have messed up time and time again, who have regretted many things we probably hope that God doesn’t give us what we deserve. Just the thought of God’s “justice” can be scary for those of us who have done many things of which we are ashamed. So, does God give us what we deserve? It’s a tricky question. The core beliefs of our faith answer that question with an emphatic “no”. We only need look at the cross to convince us of the infinite disparity between our sins and God’s love for us. Jesus paid a price that redeems all of us --- from the virtuous person to the greatest sinner and everyone in between. God died to save the squeaky-clean person and the person who finds it nearly impossible to love anyone but themselves, the person whose life reflects who God is and the person who seems to have turned his or her back on nearly every God-like quality. That’s the God we believe in --- a God who doesn’t demand that we earn his love (which is impossible), but chooses to love us no matter what. In that sense, not one of us “deserves” to be saved, deserves our heavenly reward. Rather, God offers it to us as the greatest gift possible. It is this sort of outpouring of God’s very life for our sake that we call “grace” --- God gifting us with every good thing --- our God wanting to dwell within every human heart, every human soul, every human person open to that possibility. Then why did we hear what we heard in two of our readings today? Our First Reading from Sirach tells us to, “Forgive your neighbor’s injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.” And in our Gospel passage from Matthew, Jesus tells a parable that ends with, “So will my heavenly Father do to you (hand us over to torturers) unless each of you forgives your brother from your heart.” Wow! Now I’m worried. I’m more like the person being described in the verse the author of Sirach told us at the beginning of the passage we just heard, “Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet the sinner hugs them tight.” The person who sometimes finds it hard to forgive. The person who sometimes is reluctant to show mercy. The person who is only generous up to a point. The person who sometimes judges people unfairly, or who gives in to ridicule and gossip, or who holds other people to a standard I don’t hold myself to. Does this mean we are in trouble of not receiving God’s blessings? I think part of the problem is that we often presume that grace is “irresistible”, that is, that we “receive” it whether we like it or not, want it or not, are open to it or not --- as if God sort of “forces” grace upon us. And while God COULD do that (in that we believe there are no absolute limits on God) he doesn’t seem WILLING to do that. God always invites. God always asks. God always encourages. God always gives us a choice --- to be open or not, be cooperative or not, be obedient or not, be receptive to what God is offering or hold those things at bay --- that is, not allow God to do precisely what God wants to do for us and through us. Even when it came to Mary, God seemed to want her “yes”. And so maybe when God says we will not be forgiven if we don’t forgive, he’s alerting us to the fact that the grace of God’s forgiveness will not reach its fullest expression, --- unless it is mirrored in the actual way we act and think and see. Put another way --- the way we TRULY receive the grace of God’s forgiveness is by forgiving others. And the way we truly receive the grace of God’s generosity is by being generous with others. And the way we truly receive the grace of God’s mercy is by being merciful. God’s gifts come alive in us and grow in us as we use them to build up His kingdom. Even the grace of receiving his Body and Blood reaches its fulfillment when we sincerely DESIRE to become the Body of Christ in our daily interactions. I guess you could say the way we truly experience love is by loving God and others. Maybe wondering whether or not we deserve God’s forgiveness or his mercy or his love is not really the point. The truth is --- GOD deserves those very things from US. So let’s spend a lifetime sharing with God and one another all the different aspects of God’s grace that we have been gifted with. We might be surprised at how much more real those same things become in us.

God doesn’t give us “permission” too often, does he? At least that’s the way it feels to many. God “refuses” or “takes away” permission all the time. That seems pretty clear. These are what we call the “don’ts” of faith. We don’t get to steal. We don’t get to kill. We don’t get to covet our neighbor’s things or spouse. We don’t get to dishonor our parents. We don’t get to misuse our sexuality. We don’t get to hate or get even or lie or cause harm to others. And we certainly don’t get to have “other” Gods (including our stubborn thirst for fame or power or riches or other Sunday activities). Yes, there are lots of “permissions” that God simply refuses to give. And that makes today kind of refreshing. If you weren’t paying attention, let me bring you up to speed. Our First Reading shows God commanding Ezekiel to “warn the wicked”. God goes on to say that if Ezekiel doesn’t do as God asks, he will be held responsible for the evil those people do. And in the Gospel passage from Matthew Jesus tells his disciples to (privately) confront people who have wronged them (and may, by extension, be giving the ok --- or be commanding them --- to point out a person’s misdeeds even if they are directed toward someone else). In other words, the two readings seem to be saying we should sort of “police” the behavior of other people. Just the permission we were hoping for! Yet, permissions are tricky things. Really tricky things. You probably know that. Think for a minute of some common situations requiring the giving of “permission”. The time we get our toddler a baby sitter. The time we give our kid permission to sleep over at a friend’s house. The time we let our teenage child take the family car somewhere. The time we give our son or daughter the ok to go to college far from home. The time we give someone the key to our house, or the password to our computer, or our credit card number. The time we give a subordinate at work the combination to the safe or access to the expensive merchandise. The time we sign forms at the hospital for some sort of medical procedure or surgery. The time a spouse or close relative gets their name put on our bank accounts. All things many of us have given permission for. And why are these things “tricky”? Because something can go wrong. And it’s the same for God. God gives us permission (in certain circumstances) to bring to someone’s attention a problem or fault or pattern of behavior that can be unhealthy (or just plain wrong) and he has no idea whether or not we will use that permission in the way he intends. In other words, it’s not just the “what” that is important. The “how and why” are as important, maybe even more important. And this is where we often mess up. And so, we sometimes bring a fault to a person’s attention NOT out of true concern, but because we want to hurt them in some way, make them feel overly bad for what they’ve done, or maybe even to make us feel kind of superior. That can never be the goal. Any sort of bringing up of this kind of thing must be done out of love, must be done because we want the best for the person and the people around that person. Along with the need for having a pure motive for our actions, we must also approach the situation fully aware of our own faults and failings, our own need to be better than we are, our own need to be forgiven. And so, one of the most important things we can bring to such a conversation is a willingness to acknowledge our faults --- not just internally, but to the person we’re talking to. This is especially true if the fault in question is something we are guilty of. Starting the conversation with, “I often struggle with the same thing,” or “I know from experience,” or “I’m probably the last person who should be offering advice on this subject,” can go a long way to having what we say next be better received. And of course, we should only use this “permission” in serious situations and after careful consideration. This is not a “when in doubt, go ahead” kind of thing. In fact, if we are doubting whether we should bring something to someone’s attention, that might be God telling us, “Not this time. or, Not right now.” Probably all of us are not too crazy about people pointing out our faults and failings. It really rubs us the wrong way. We can get defensive, or angry, or irritated. Sometimes we want to distance ourselves from that person, wanting to avoid the situation altogether. And that should tell us something. You see, if others pointing out our wrongdoings is not ok, then the reverse is not ok either. That seems pretty obvious. And so maybe we need to try looking at such encounters in a much different way --- that is, start seeing constructive helpful comments from others as just that --- constructive and done from a place of love --- grace-filled moments that might be God’s way of trying to get us to be the best person we can be. And only then will we be in a position to reach out in love to others in the hope of helping them be the best they can be too. I guess we don’t really need God’s permission for that. 

Twenty-second Sunday in O.T– August 30, 2026 Readings: Jer. 20:7–9 • Romans 12:1–2 • Matt. 16:21–27 Discipleship in the Lord. Dcn. Bill Kenney “You ‘duped’ me, O Lord” is Jeremiah’s cry when he realizes the cost of discipleship as a prophet of the Lord. He was duped into a way of life that he thought he understood. But as he followed God he discovered more and more that what he got himself into was not what he expected. He was laughed at, mocked, and persecuted by hostile crowds of unbelievers, yet the Spirit of the Lord gave him the power to persevere. Have we been duped? Our modern-day costs of discipleship in Christ involves the exact same spiritual surrender as with Jeremiah, but manifests itself differently in our daily lives. Within our secular world and workplaces, we may face ridicule, exclusion, or “canceling” for holding to biblical morals- such as being pro-life. We choose worship, service, and prayer over hobbies, sports, and entertainment. We tithe and give to mission charities in sacrifice and devotion instead of squandering our surplus wealth. Discipleship has its costs and, as we hear in the Gospel, the Son of Man will repay us at his coming for being his righteous disciples. Like Jeremiah, the Christian way of life is not about having it all figured out either. Discipleship is about being on a journey with Jesus and not knowing where we are going. Discipleship is about wrestling with God and trusting his providence for our life; to accompany him on a twisting, sometimes smooth, sometimes rocky journey of faith. To be a true disciple of Jesus requires, as is implied in the word, discipline. We must be disciplined in our complete surrender, self-giving sacrifice, and transformation in our relationship with Christ. St. Paul reinforces this discipline in our second reading to the Romans when he writes, ”… offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship.” We surrender to Christ our ego, our self-centeredness, and sinful tendencies. In all humility, we surrender and live our lives knowing he is God and we are not. We surrender our time and energies to strive to be one with Christ. As practicing Catholic disciples, we worship at Mass, never missing weekly Mass and Holy Days of Obligation, except for good reason. We participate as one family in the prayers, hymns, and liturgy of the Mass, culminating in our reception of the Holy Eucharist. We surrender our shortcomings through the regular reception of the sacrament of reconciliation to rekindle our relationship in Christ. We make sacrifices as disciples, sacrificing our bodies, minds, and hearts to be united with that of Christ’s, even when it is inconvenient, uncomfortable, and not popular with others. Like orange juice for dinner, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are not just for Lent anymore. We sacrifice our time as a gift and blessing to those who need our care. Take the time to make a call, card, or visit, especially to our elderly, sick, and homebound. How can acts of sacrifice help us to grow in solidarity with our needy brothers and sisters among us? In the timeless words of St Paul, he goes on to say, “Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.” Amid the societal noise and confusion of our present day, these words ring true more than ever. As disciples we are called to discern the will of God and be transformed, undergo metanoia, even daily, from the snares of evil around us; to hope and see the goodness and truth in God’s creation- most especially in each other. In emulating our Blessed Mother, we say “yes” to Jesus in the way we love and care for our children and parents. We say “yes” upon seeing Jesus in the needy stranger before us, lending him a compassionate and helping hand. These are qualities of a true disciple of Christ. In our Gospel reading from Mathew, Jesus’ plan for his passion, death, and resurrection is criticized by St. Peter. Last week he was called Peter, “the Rock”, a solid foundation of discipleship to lead the Church. Today he is called “Satan” and an “obstacle” or stumbling block to God’s will. Once again, the Apostles prove to be a type of our own understanding and practice of discipleship. We know to love God and neighbor and can be pretty solid in that respect, but at times, due to our sin, we, like Peter, fail God by “… thinking [and doing] not as God does, but as human beings do.” Our hope for true discipleship lies in the mercy, justice, and love God has for each one of us. We become Christian disciples, not from our own will or merit, but as a gift of adoption through the Holy Spirit at baptism. How can we grow in our reliance on God’s justice and mercy? “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” This is true discipleship: to forsake our sinfulness, to follow our Lord Jesus and trust in his Word and his ways, for our salvation and for the glory of God.

God gives us so much. God gives us life --- a beautiful mystery we spend a lifetime unpacking. And God sustains us throughout our lives. He heals us when we need healing --- although not always in the way we want him to. He brings people into our lives for us to love and be loved by. He forgives us when we have strayed, when we have sinned. He picks us up when we have fallen, and guides us when we get lost, and dries our tears when sorrow grips us. And God gave us an incredible home --- the earth --- a blue and green oasis in a vast darkness. God also gave us a gift so profound it is hard for us to wrap our minds around --- his very self in the person of Jesus --- one who would show us the way and BE the WAY --- carrying our sins and reconciling us to the Father in a way that would have been impossible for us. Yes, God gives us so much . . . . . . . and he owes us nothing. For many of us, this aspect of God --- his utter graciousness --- is hard to understand or maybe even hard to accept. And the reason is somewhat simple. Many of us at times don’t act that way. We see everything as a kind of transaction. We loan money to someone and then expect them to do the same when we ask them for the same favor. We cut a neighbor’s lawn and wait for the time when they will “have” to cut ours. We send cards to people who sent cards to us, pick up other people’s children because they picked up ours. We buy someone a dinner in a restaurant and then don’t reach for our wallet or purse the next time we’re out with that person. Yes, so often we go through life continually thinking about who we owe, and more importantly, who owes us. But God doesn’t work that way. Paul, as we heard in the Second Reading from his Letter to the Romans, puts it this way. “Or who has given the Lord anything that he may be repaid?” Yet, sometimes we might wish that was not so, right? Wouldn’t it be nice if we could simply do “good” things (as if we were making a deposit in a bank), only to be able to go back later and make a withdrawal --- that is, “force” God to give us what we want, return good for the good we have done? Wouldn’t that be great? I’m not so sure. After all, wouldn’t that mean that God would withhold his love if we hadn’t done a good “job” of loving him? Do we really want that? (And doesn’t that seem kind of juvenile?) Rather, we believe in a God whose love is never owed to us for the good we have done (no matter how good our actions were), and conversely (and thankfully), believe in a God whose love is so great that it could NEVER be forfeited should we mess up disastrously, even when we fail to love God time after time after time. Put simply --- God loves us when we do good, and he loves us when we do bad. And nothing can change that because God is Love. And when you think about it, that’s pretty incredible --- for we can count on God’s blessings in the good times and in the bad, during our successes and during our failures, when we disobey and when we follow his will to the letter, when we love others and when we don’t. God simply loves us anyway. And he gives from that love (that is, pours out from his very being) every single thing we need --- continuously. And so we can take comfort in knowing that our God will always give his forgiveness, compassion, mercy and guidance. That’s just who God is. But he also gives us something else, something we might not exactly want, something we’d probably rather be given to someone else. He gives us a responsibility, a mission, a calling, a set of keys. “I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.” Much has been made from these words. In fact, it has been used time and time again to support the Church’s understanding of Church leadership --- in particular, has informed how we have come to understand the role of the Bishop of Rome, the Pope. And because of this understanding (through faith) we (the Catholic faithful) entrust a lot to Church leaders --- trust them to guide us, teach us, inspire us, shepherd us, unify us and, at times, even admonish us. They were given the keys. Yet, the work that has been entrusted to them is not theirs alone. WE share in that work, that mission because we are all Church. They are not the only ones who teach the faith. WE teach others every time we act and every time we speak. They are not the only ones guiding the faithful. WE guide others every time we give someone else advice or suggestions or counsel. They are not the only ones who are called to inspire the faithful. WE are called to help others embrace their spiritual path, help others fall in love with Jesus and want to imitate him. And they are not the only ones charged with keeping the faithful united in His Church. WE are called to constantly look for and foster the good in one another, the things we all have in common, the dignity in which each of us was created. I guess you could say that there are more than one set of keys. What will we do with them? Will we see our responsibilities to carry out Jesus’ mission (and by extension, the Church’s) as a good thing, a blessing, a gift? Or will this be a blessing that (sadly) gets discarded, ignored? The choice is ours. So let’s take the keys of discipleship and open for others a life of great meaning and beauty and joy. God may not owe us anything, but it seems like we should owe him that much.

Our God was grateful. That’s a strange way to start out a homily, isn’t it? Yet, when you think about it, isn’t that what we appear to be celebrating today? After all, we gather on this Holy Day to celebrate Mary’s Assumption --- a unique gift God gave to her --- in that her body was kept from being subjected to the effects of the grave. Something about it would not have seemed right, not have seemed appropriate for someone who accepted the role she accepted in God’s plan. God, it appears, was grateful --- grateful for her “yes”, her courage, her faithfulness, her witness. I know what some of you are probably thinking. It seems kind of “wrong” to talk about God in this way, doesn’t it? And you know what? You’re right. God isn’t some sort of collection of feelings and emotions and traits we use for ourselves. God just IS. He doesn’t “think” like we do. He doesn’t “change his mind” like we do. He doesn’t “feel” like we do. He just IS. Yet, if we are to talk about God at all --- words are all we have --- OUR words, things we can relate to OUR own human experiences. There aren’t other options. And so, while we understand the limitations of trying to talk about God, we try to do so anyway --- as best we can. And, well, today seems to be a day to celebrate our God who seems to be grateful, seems to be giving a kind of “thank you” to the Mother of the Savior, the Mother of the Church. Yet, in the relationship between God and Mary, it is not God who is solely grateful. Mary was too. And the fact that she was is remarkable. Her “yes” almost guaranteed her a life of great uncertainty --- a pregnancy in which Joseph (her betrothed) took no part, a son who she knew was one-of-a-kind, a future that from the start was unclear, and an ending to her son’s story (that was unknown to her at the time) that she could never have predicted. Put simply --- she said “yes” but had no idea what that “yes” would ultimately mean. Yet she too was grateful. She didn’t have to be --- but she was, telling Elizabeth, “my spirit rejoices in God my Savior for he has looked with favor upon his lowly servant.” Imagine that. She might have initially hoped that someone else would have been asked, but once she knew it was what God wanted she no longer resisted God’s will. She embraced it. Was grateful for it. Rejoiced in it. And God was grateful. And he gave her a kind of thank you of the highest order. Can we do the same? After all, the things we see in Mary are things we are (in faith) encouraged to see IN ourselves and FOR ourselves. Can we live lives infused with gratitude --- lives in which we are grateful for whatever path God has set before us? Can we be grateful for the easy things in life AND the difficult things, the uncertain things, the challenging things? Can we just try to be the best person we can be TODAY, simply try to say “yes” to God in whatever ways we can --- without knowing where those “yeses” might lead? If so, then we can be assured (in faith) of our eternal reward, a life of great beauty and meaning from this moment on into eternity --- a life in God alongside Mary and all the saints. And while our lives will not live up to the life Mary led (given her singular role in Salvation History) they can be lives of sincere gratitude as Mary’s was. And you know what? We might just find that our God is grateful for us too. And there may be no greater gift than that. Mary, Queen of Heaven, pray for us. 

If you know anything about the history of science you might remember that at the end of the nineteenth century many in the scientific community felt that science had basically attained a level of knowledge and understanding that was nearly complete. This was especially true for physics --- specifically, how matter “works” --- that is, how it is structured and how it interacts with other matter. In the minds of many scholars Isaac Newton had given the world a nearly complete picture that would never be disproven. Any subsequent developments would simply be a “tweaking” of his theories --- theories that didn’t just describe the heavens, but which some thought had actually come down from them. This was until scientists began to look at the very, very small. And that changed everything. We call this branch of physics quantum mechanics --- the science of what takes place at the atomic level. Now, I’m certainly not going to go into detail. But let’s just say, when scientists started exploring what was taking place inside of an atom, they were shocked. The theories of Isaac Newton no longer seemed to apply (or were woefully incomplete). A different set of rules seemed to be at play. The behavior of the electron (a negatively charged particle outside of the nucleus) was particularly confusing. What they found (in essence) was that they couldn’t ever predict where any given electron would be (its position) or what its momentum was. All they had were probabilities. (In fact, the closer they got to measuring the one, the less they knew about the other.) Up until the point of trying to measure an electron’s position (as close as quantum mechanics would allow) any particular electron could only be considered to be “everywhere” or “nowhere” (whichever you prefer). This uncertainty has sort of befuddled scientists ever since. Everywhere or nowhere. We like things to be predictable, don’t we? For example, we like being able to know that a particular action will yield a particular outcome. Or that a certain degree will get us a specific job. Or that enough practice will get us a spot on the team. Or that the money we save will grow over the years into the nest egg we hope for. Or that the right clothes or haircut or car or cologne or body type will get us the girlfriend or boyfriend we desire. Does God fall into that category? Is God one of those things we want to be predictable? If so, we’re going to be disappointed. Today’s First Reading (from the First Book of Kings) and Gospel passage (from Matthew) each show God being somewhere unpredictable, coming to people in ways they didn’t expect. Elijah encounters God in a tiny whispering sound, and the disciples encounter Jesus walking toward them across rough seas. Neither was within their scope of what was possible. For Elijah --- encountering God in a heavy wind, or earthquake, or fire would have made more sense. But in near silence? That was new. And for the disciples, well, they thought they were seeing things, or maybe seeing some sort of spirit. But their friend? Walking on water? During a storm? That too was new. Completely new. Maybe God isn’t where we imagine him to be? This sort of “uncertainty” in knowing where to “find” God can be troubling. You see, if we only expect to encounter God on our terms --- for example, only in “religious” activities such as prayer or worship, or only in our happiest moments, or only in people we think are holy or virtuous --- we might come to the distressful conclusion that God is sort of absent, that encounters with God are a rarity, that God is (in a sense) nowhere. And that’s a pretty awful way to have to go through life --- wondering if God cares, wondering if he’s even paying attention, wondering if he’s far away. But maybe, just maybe it’s all in the “looking”, in the “observing”. Maybe gazing on people and situations with a different lens, with a different set of expectations, will erase some of the unsettling uncertainty that surrounds our faith lives at times. Maybe it takes expecting God to be where we least expect him to be that will open up an entire new way of experiencing life, a new way of experiencing all the routine, day-to-day ups and downs that come our way. And this is where the physics analogy breaks down. You see, for the scientist studying electrons, both categories regarding the position of either “everywhere” or “nowhere” start to disappear once they begin trying to make their observation, once they begin taking the proper look. But for people of faith, the “looking”, the “observing” (in the right way) doesn’t make both those terms meaningless. Rather, only one of the terms disappears, one no longer applies. And one comes into focus. You see, when we look at the world through the lens of faith, through eyes of hope and possibility, through eyes waiting for and expecting to be surprised, we will land squarely on one term, come to only one conclusion. God is everywhere. Believing that, and more importantly, living in the light of that truth, changes absolutely everything. For when we approach each day, each situation, each person, expecting to encounter God, we will never be disappointed. In fact, we might just be amazed at how present God is. He’s in the whisper and the storm. Our God is predictably unpredictable, and with us always.

Most people love pizza. The options for the type of crust and kind of toppings are numerous. With so many variations it is difficult to get tired of pizza, and we often want another slice and another and another. All sorts of things are kind of like this. Some of us do this with boyfriends and girlfriends. If one is good, three or four must be better, right? Some of us do this with degrees and certificates --- and not always for the education or improved salary potential --- but just so we can say we have them. Some of us treat activities this way --- filling our free days and calendars with endless (and mostly optional) things --- treating quiet, unscheduled time as proof that we’re somehow not living life to the fullest if we are not going a million different directions all of the time. Some of us do it with friends --- accumulating dozens of acquaintances, but sometimes not even one true, lifelong, friend. And of course, some of us do it with material things --- all kings of gadgets and gizmos. It seems when it comes to certain earthly things in life we sometimes never seem to have enough. Are we ever satisfied and content? All three readings today point to the same deep truth --- that, in the end, the only one who truly can satisfy us in the way we need to be satisfied, the only one who can provide for us, the only one we can truly “count on” (in the fullest sense of those words) is God. If we’re thirsty, we’re told to “come to the water” --- and our thirst will be quenched. If we have no money --- it doesn’t matter --- we will be fed anyway. If it seems we don’t have enough to nourish us, God will take what looks like a little and make it more than enough. God is the only one we can count on to be there for us in a complete, faithful, unconditional way. The things of this world simply can’t provide the things that ultimately matter. Not material things. Not money. Not fame or status. Not even other humans. Ultimately, what we’re talking about is God’s love --- a love made manifest in every good thing --- from the food we eat, to the planet we live on, to the forgiveness he extends to us, to the Church that unites us, to the friends and family and even strangers who encourage us. Paul, in his Letter to the Romans asks what might be the most important question we can ask (and gives the answer that has the power to change everything). He asks, “What will separate us from the love of Christ?” And his answer --- the conclusion he comes to --- is . . . . nothing. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. Not the worst thing. Not the best thing. Not the past. Not the future. Not any creature (including any person). That’s how powerful God’s love is --- so much so that it is the only thing that can truly satisfy the things in us that need to be satisfied or filled or healed or transformed. It is our loving God who is the Great Provider, Protector, Comforter, and Forgiver. Believing in that kind of love, believing in that profound truth, and embracing it in a full way, is what we mean by taking a “leap of faith”. It’s not just asking the question whether or not we believe there is a God (no matter how important that question is). It’s wrestling with the question, “If I believe in God --- exactly what kind of God do I believe in?” And I don’t just mean what kind of God I SAY I believe in. I mean --- Who do I believe God to be in the deepest recesses of my heart, in my very soul, in my very being? Is that a God who truly satisfies, truly provides, truly loves? That’s who our faith teaches our God is. That’s the God of Sacred Scripture. That’s the God of two thousand years of prayerful contemplation by the Christian community. And most importantly, that’s the God revealed to us perfectly through the person of Jesus --- through his teachings, stories, and a lifetime of actions bringing about every good thing we need for eternity. This is the God we are called to believe in by taking a bold and brave “leap of faith.” Stepping out into the unknown and embracing a God whose existence will never be empirically proved to us, a God we will never know and understand completely, a God whose will is often shrouded in mystery, a God who sees the complete picture --- a picture we will never get to fully gaze on. Is that enough? Will that satisfy us? Maybe --- if we believe it deeply enough. But one thing is for sure --- if we put our trust, time and energy just in the things of this world, we most certainly will continue to grasp over and over at things that ultimately can’t provide for us in the ways that we ultimately need. And that’s an endless merry-go-round we need to step off of. May the Eucharist satisfy our restless hearts!