The Word Becomes Flesh

Nativity of the Lord: Day – Cycle C

Isaiah 52: 7-10; Hebrews 1: 1-6; 

John 1: 1-18

The opening chapter of John's Gospel reads like poetry – full of wondrous images about the mystery and the glory of God. It's beautiful – but it is also difficult to comprehend. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” This is very deep stuff. John's Gospel is not like the other three. It contains concepts that are not easily understood. But that is how God is. The vastness, the greatness, the enormity that is God cannot be adequately described within the human experience. It is far beyond our limited understanding. God knows this.

God created the heavens and the earth. God created the flowers and the trees. God created it all and saw that it was good. But God desires more. God loves us so much, wants to be in a relationship with us so much, that he took on human form. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us ...” But why was this necessary?

For thousands of years, no one had seen God, no one had touched God, and only a select few had heard his voice. God was a stranger to us. He was unknown. Many questioned his existence. For others, God was simply irrelevant. “He's up there somewhere, why should I care?” (Does this sound familiar?) The old testament is full of stories of the Jewish people losing faith. The sacred scriptures promised that a Savior would come. Someone would lead us out of the darkness and back into light. Someone would reveal God to us through himself.

The birth of the Christ child, the incarnation, allows each of us to know God in a way that we can understand. His love for us is so great, that he is willing to send his only Son, knowing that He will suffer and die for us. God is willing to take on human form, to experience the same things we do, to feel lonely or scared, to scrape his knee, to experience the loss of his friend, Lazarus. God wants to be one with us so that we can begin to fathom His love for us.

Most of us have had the privilege of seeing the joy in the eyes of a child on Christmas morning. As the adults watching, the love we have for that child is hard to describe. We can't imagine a greater love, than the love a mother has for her baby, yet, we know that God's love for us is even more vast.

Emmanuel, God with us, is a gift. This gift is not like other presents you may give or receive. I was at a Christmas party one time and a friend and I exchanged gifts. Later, when I opened my present, I found that my friend had spent a lot of money on me, while my gift was more of a token. I felt bad. I struggled with these feelings. Instead of feeling thankful, I felt inadequate. This gift from God of the Christ child is similar. We have done nothing to deserve it. We can offer nothing in return that matches its awesomeness.

We are so used to that way of thinking, that we assume God works the same way, so we try to figure out how we can make things even again, how we can give back to God at the same level. But God's is a gift with no expectations of a present in return. Quite honestly, we can't. We are not God. God's gift is pure love. That's hard for us humans to comprehend, that God's love is freely given, it is pure gift.

It is my hope that each of us can graciously accept this gift and allow God's love to enter our hearts. Let us rejoice and celebrate that God is with us!

 

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Christmas Day

December 25, 2011

Love Yourself As Your Neighbor

30^th Sunday Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Exodus 22: 20-26; 1 Thessalonians 1: 5c-10; 

Matthew 22: 34-40

 

Today we hear what is often referred to as the Two Great Commandments: “You shall love the Lord your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

Love is all you need. Love is all you need to give honor and glory to God. Love is all you need to give respect and comfort to neighbor. As Jesus said, “The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.” Love takes care of everything. It all seems so simple, doesn't it?

There have been tons of books written over the course of history that examine these two greatest precepts of loving God and loving neighbor. But there is one component of the equation that is often missed. “You shall love your neighbor AS YOURSELF.” Loving yourself is the part that causes so many of us to struggle.

It should be a given that everyone loves themselves – right? But it's just not that simple. We grow up hearing so many negative messages – you're not smart enough, you're not tall enough, you are overweight, you are unattractive, you are lazy. We are bombarded with these images daily in our homes, in our classrooms, in our workplaces, yes even in our church. You are good if you look this way, think this way, act this way. You are bad if you don't. With all of these images, it's a wonder that anyone could love themselves. If you can't love yourself, you can't possibly love others in the way that Jesus intends.

I was in a music store the other night and I saw in the newly released section the 20^th anniversary edition of the album “Nevermind” by a band called Nirvana. I loved that record when it came out. The album went to the top of the charts and the band was, for a time, the biggest band in the world. Three years later, their lead singer and songwriter, Kurt Cobain, committed suicide. Now I don't claim to be an expert on the life and death of Nirvana's leader, but if I had to guess what his problems were, I would guess that they were rooted in this inability to love oneself. I don't make this statement lightly. I say it because I experienced these same feelings myself.

When I was sixteen, I was involved in a serious car accident. I was speeding and I lost control of the vehicle. I hit a concrete embankment. I punctured my lung, broke both bones in my lower right arm, broke my right femur and my right ankle. I was in traction for three weeks and in a wheelchair for a couple of months. I was the lucky one. A friend who was sitting in the passenger seat was killed on impact. In addition to the physical pain that I was enduring, I had to struggle with the reality that my actions had caused the death of my friend.

In the weeks and months that followed, my family and my doctors and nurses took care of me. I received loads of cards and gifts from people who were hoping and praying for my speedy recovery. I knew that I was loved. But in the darkness of night, when I was alone with my thoughts, I didn't love myself. I knew that others loved me, but I couldn't love myself. I knew that others forgave me, but I couldn't forgive myself. I can remember staring into the mirror and seeing a monster looking back at me. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

I don't think I'm alone here. I'm willing to bet that many of you have felt like this at one time or another. Maybe some of you are struggling with these emotions now. I wish I could hold you in my arms and tell you everything will be alright. I wish that I could tell you how to overcome these feelings, but I don't have all the answers. I can tell you what worked for me. A few months after my accident, I went on a christian awakening retreat with others from my class at St. Xavier. I'll be honest here, I wasn't expecting much, but several people encouraged me to try it, so I did. It was incredible. In those three days, I was able to open up to others and unburden my soul. I found that I was not alone. I rediscovered God's love for me, and more important, I was able to forgive myself and learn to love myself again.

I wish that I could tell you that it's been easy from that point but it hasn't. Some days it's easy to love myself, and some days – not so much. On days when I slip, it helps to remember that I was created in the image of God. God created the heavens and the earth. God created the trees and the flowers. God created everything and saw that it was good – and I was created in God's image. I have my faults and my shortcomings. But I am the image of God - and so are you.

Loving God and each other are our greatest laws – Jesus said so - but it all begins with loving yourself. What do you see when you look in the mirror? Can you look closely enough to see the face of God reflected in your eyes? If you cannot, that should be your goal – that should be your destination. Once you can see the face of God in your mirror, loving your neighbor as yourself as Christ intended becomes possible.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time

October 23, 2011

Tolerating The Weeds

16^th Sunday Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Wisdom 12: 13, 16-19; Romans 8: 26-27; 

Matthew 13: 24-43

I consider myself a good person. I try to be honest, I try to do the right thing, I try to live as Jesus teaches. However, if you were to ask my wife, she would tell you that I that I have some issues – some character flaws that drive her absolutely bonkers. One of the biggest is that I am a pack rat. I never throw anything away. If you were to look at my desk on any given day, you would wonder how anyone could find anything in the mess. And you would be right. I have piles of stuff everywhere. The problem is that when the piles get too big, they fall over and knock down the other piles.

Every so often, when I can't stand the mess anymore, I grab the nearest garbage can and start filling it. The newspaper article that I never got around to reading – gone. The rebate offer that I forgot to mail – gone. The programs from graduations and ordinations – gone and gone. When I'm finished, I have a clean desk again.

There is great joy and satisfaction in ridding ourselves of the clutter that burdens our lives. There is a wonderful feeling of accomplishment when things are neat and organized.

When I read today's gospel, I'll admit that I share a certain affinity with the workers who wanted get rid of the weeds right away. The weeds are unwanted and, if left unchecked, they can damage and possibly even destroy the wheat before the harvest. But the master told them to wait. Pulling the weeds might also uproot some of the wheat. 

 

There is a danger here. While it's good to get rid of the useless stuff cluttering our lives, we run the risk of treating other people as weeds. Those who have a different set of values, those who do not share our social status, those who speak a different language or have a different skin color – can be seen as weeds, infesting the nice neat little garden that we've planted for ourselves.

In our nation today, some would have us treat the flow of immigrants into our country as an influx of weeds – especially if they are here illegally.

Weeding has been played out time and again on the world stage in what is called ethnic cleansing – this group decides that that group is not fit, not worthy, not good enough to live.

Sometimes the weeding is done more subtly. Not too long ago, the Southern Baptist Conference chose to boycott Disney because that corporation was offering insurance benefits to the partners of it's gay employees.

So what is the point of this parable? It is a story about what our response should be when we find evil within. The immediate reaction might be to tear it out. But here is where the master of the parable is instructive. There are three things that are interesting about the master here:

First he is more pro-wheat than anti-weeds. “If you pull up the weeds, you might uproot the wheat along with them.” He will protect his wheat any any cost. He will not sacrifice a single grain – even if it means that the weeds flourish.

Second, he takes the long viewpoint. He sees what is before him – recognizes the enemy's handiwork – that the weeds are among the wheat. The time will come when the weeds will be dealt with – but that time is not here yet.

Finally, in the master's approach, the present is a time for patience and tolerance. The wheat has not finished growing yet. It has not ripened. Acting hastily now will bring about a future that holds no promise.

It is easy to see the God of Creation in this story: The God who waits for each of us to come to full growth. The God whose future includes a day of reckoning. But, most of all, the God whose present is marked by mercy. Our God so loves the world that – when the original gardeners didn't work out – God gave his own Son the job of cultivating a new creation. And this Son, even though rejected and seemingly overwhelmed by the weeds of his time, was not conquered by death, but raised to new life. This Son is now the source and summit of life for all who believe in him.

How does this gospel message speak to us today? The funny thing about this parable is how people identify themselves within the story. I'm willing to bet that if we took a show of hands, everyone here would identify themselves as wheat and identify someone else as weed. We all want to believe that we are good and that we try to please God. But we also know, if we are brutally honest with ourselves, that there are times in our lives when we more closely resemble the weeds. Thankfully, the master is patient with his crops. Through the sacraments the Lord has provided us with the tools necessary to be wheat again.

One final thought – I don't usually give advise – but you already know this – so let it serve as a reminder. There is evil in the world. It's out there, and sometimes it can creep in here as well. It is unavoidable. Use the Eucharist, the finest wheat, to find a clear path through the weeds. Use the confessional on those occasions when the weeds get too close. And finally pray – pray that those who routinely dwell in the weeds will have a change of heart and seek out the goodness of the wheat before the harvest.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

July 17, 2011

Tongues Of Fire

Pentecost – Cycle A

Acts 2: 1-11; 1 Corinthians 12: 3b-7. 12-13; 

John 20: 19-23

Last week, we read the conclusion of Matthew's Gospel. Do you recall the words? “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.” (Matthew 28: 19-20) Today in Acts we hear that command put into action. From Luke's writings, we can see how the Twelve and their followers, with the strength and guidance of the Holy Spirit, took the good news of the resurrection to the world.

In Acts we hear that on Pentecost the Apostles received the Holy Spirit and tongues of fire came to rest on them. They were heard speaking many different languages. Each person present heard Peter and the others speaking in their own native tongue. I can't help but see a parallel between this and Vatican II, when it was decreed that the mass should be spoken in the language of the people. Finally we could hear and understand more clearly the universal prayer of the church. I'm sure there are some who prefer the Latin mass – and there are some available here in town if that is what you are looking for. But I believe that the vast majority of people prefer to hear the mass in their first language.

Following the first Pentecost, the Apostles and their followers took Jesus' words to heart and traveled far and wide proclaiming the gospel. Some even took the time to write down and preserve these teachings. These writings make up what we know today as the New Testament.

We don't know exact dates, but historians estimate that the apostle John died in about the year 98 AD – 60 some-odd years after the first Pentecost. He was the last of the original twelve, and the only one to die of natural causes. All of the others – Peter and Andrew, James and Matthew, Thomas and the rest – they were all martyred will spreading the word of Christ. 

 

St. John witnessed a lot of changes in those 60 years. At the first Pentecost, all of those who believed were Jewish and lived in and around Jerusalem. But that wouldn't last long. St. Paul took the good news to the Gentile people and they too became followers of the cross. By the turn of the century, there were Christian communities in Greece, Turkey, Russia, India, Northern Africa, Italy, Spain, France, perhaps even Great Britain - all in the span of about 60 years! The Apostles could not have possibly foreseen the results.

From that first day of Pentecost forward, the Holy Spirit has guided the actions of people of God and the direction of the church. It did not always go smoothly. The book of Acts tells us of an early conflict between the Jewish faithful and the Gentiles who were joining the church. And so the faith communities sent representatives to Jerusalem to discuss and debate the situation. This is remembered as the Council of Jerusalem.

Fifty-eight years ago, our faith community of St. Gabriel was established. I'm quite certain that the early parishioners did not foresee the many changes that have taken place here. The biggest and most obvious change is the church building itself. But there have been others as well. We've had our own Council – Vatican II – and all of the changes that came with it. Not all of them were warmly embraced. I'll never forget the day – it was Sunday morning - my parents had just returned home from church – and my father was in a foul mood. He walked into the house, kicked the dog, yelled at me to get a haircut, and told my brother to clean up his room NOW. After he was out of earshot, I asked my mother what was wrong. She told me that Dad was upset because there was a woman lector in church that morning! At the time, I couldn't understand what the big deal was. But it was a big deal to my father. Over time he came to accept the situation. Today we have female lectors, servers, sacristans, and Eucharistic ministers. Thanks to Vatican II we have seen the reestablishment of the Perminant Diaconate. All of these things are good and our church is the better for them.

Later this year, we will see another change – the New Roman Missal will go into effect. There are some changes that will be easy to incorporate. Others may take some getting used to. I've heard a few complaints – even one or two hostile remarks. I choose to believe that the Holy Spirit has had a hand in this and that the changes will make our worship more meaningful - maybe in ways we cannot even predict at this point.

 

What will our church look like 60 years from now? I can't even fathom a guess. Some of the changes that will come will be warmly received. Doubtless other changes will cause conflict and controversy, just as they have in the past. I cannot foresee the changes that will come, but I know this much – the Holy Spirit continues to guide us – continues to nudge us in the proper direction. The tongues of fire still burn within the people of God and within our church. May they never be extinguished.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Pentecost

June 12, 2011

Enter The Tomb

Easter Sunday

Acts 10: 34a, 37-43; 1 Corinthians 5: 6b-8; 

John 20: 1-9

The disciples were in a state of confusion. This Jesus that they had followed had been taken from them; handed over, tried & convicted, sentenced to death, hung on a cross between two criminals and executed. They had seen Jesus feed the multitude with only a couple of loaves and some dried fish. They witnessed him driving out demons. With this Jesus, the blind could see, the deaf could hear, the lame could run. But now he was gone and they didn't know what to do. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Could this really be the end?

Even in their confusion, they recalled his words: “Destroy this temple and in three days I will rebuild it.” What could that mean? They were about to find out.

Early in the morning, on the third day, there was a frantic knock on the door. It was Mary of Magdala. “The stone has been removed and the tomb is empty – come and see.” And so Peter and John raced to the tomb. John was a young man, full of energy and vigor. Peter was probably middle-aged – perhaps with a “spare tire” around his middle. It wasn't a very fair race. John won easily. He stopped at the entrance to the tomb and peered inside. But he could not go in. He was afraid. Presently, Peter arrived and entered the tomb with John following. They saw the burial cloths in a heap on the floor. They saw the wrappings for his head by themselves in the corner. They saw and they believed. They might not have understood completely what was happening, but they saw and believed.

I felt like St. John once. A few years ago my father-in-law got sick and was taken to the hospital. They ran some tests and they found cancer in his lungs and a tumor in his brain. There was nothing that they could do. They treated the tumor with radiation, in the hope that it would slow the growth, but the outcome was clear. He was taken home and made comfortable. There were many visitors – but as the end got close, my visits stopped. I did not want to see him dying. I was afraid. My wife and her siblings stayed with him until the end. But I could not be there.

One morning I was at work and I got the call – he's gone - pick up the boys from school and come over to the house to be with the family. The whole drive over I was petrified. When we parked the car, I stood there on the sidewalk, but I couldn't make myself go inside. My sons, however, had no hesitation. They walked up the steps and inside the door. So I followed. We went back to the bedroom and my father-in-law was in the bed – at peace. We sat in chairs around the bed. We told stories – we sang hymns – we laughed – we cried – it was a precious moment that I will never forget. Later, I managed to find a quiet spot in the house where I could be alone. My wife came and found me – she was concerned that I was having trouble with the situation. I told her that I was OK and just needed some time alone. What I didn't tell her was that I was praying – I was thanking God for this gentle soul. But more than that – I was thanking God for allowing me to witness the glory of the resurrection, right there in that house.

We all have our own demons to face. We all have our fears and our pains. Some are right on the surface, but some we have buried so deep within ourselves that we forget they are there. Perhaps we were humiliated or teased. Maybe we were bullied or victimized. Maybe we were abused. These feelings have caused us to die a little inside. We have buried these feelings and put them into tombs of our own making.

Jesus died on the cross to save us from sin – not just the sins we commit, but also the sins that others have committed against us. We can give that pain and that fear over to Jesus and he will take it all away. That is the glory of the resurrection. But before we can heal – before we can know that joy – we have to visit the tomb. We have to enter the tomb and experience the resurrection firsthand. Only then can we turn death into new life. Only then can we feel the healing embrace of our Risen Savior. Only then can we see and believe.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Easter Sunday

April 24, 2011

Seeing The Glory Of God

4^th Sunday of Lent – Cycle A

1 Samuel 6: 1b, 6-7, 10-13a; Ephesians 5: 8-14; 

John 9: 1-41

 

There is a guided method of prayer that I was taught called Lectio Divina. It basically works like this: You choose a passage from scripture and read it. At the end, you look back and pick out one word, or one phrase that grabbed your attention and you meditate on that word. Sit in thought with it for awhile. Then go back and re-read the entire passage again. As you continue the process, you begin to perceive and understand the scripture on a much deeper level. It can be an eye-opening experience.

I frequently use this method of prayer when I am writing a homily. It usually works quite well. Usually. This week – not so much. Today's gospel story was very long and it was difficult to choose a phrase but I eventually settled on one.

You will recall that at the beginning of the story, the disciples ask Jesus, who had sinned, the blind man or his parents. Jesus answered “neither”, and then he said the phrase that caught my attention: “it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him” WOW. Let me repeat it - “it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

Just imagine – every person since the beginning of time has been created for this purpose. From the unborn child who dies in his mother's womb to the most aged – from the rich and powerful to the poor and sick – every life gives glory to God. Everyone reflects God's love to others. Yes, we are all sinners, but God's glory remains. Nothing can take that glory away. 

 

“It is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

The blind man was not a respected man of the community. If anyone noticed him at all, it was to step around him on the way to wherever they were going. But Jesus noticed him. He sent him to wash in the waters of Siloam, reminding us of our own baptism. Jesus not only cured the man's physical affliction, but also awakened in him a faith in Christ. Notice that when he is first asked who healed him, the man replies: “The man called Jesus” did it; later, he says of Jesus, “He is a prophet.” Still later he acknowledges Jesus as the Son of Man. And finally he says simply, “I do believe Lord.” And he worshiped him. This is a synopsis our our growth in faith, growth that takes us a lifetime.

I read a story a few years ago written by a christian minister. It seems that his son and daughter-in-law were going to have their third child. But something went terribly wrong. One of the prenatal tests showed that the child had a severe defect and it was inoperable. The baby would not survive. The minister advised the couple that an abortion would be OK given the circumstances. The daughter-in-law was Catholic and told him that she was having that baby no matter what. Her husband understood his father's argument but chose instead to support his wife. Baby Evan was born and lived his entire lifetime, 43 minutes, in the arms of his family. His brother and sister, both children themselves, held baby Evan's hands and sang to him. Aunts and uncles took turns holding him and talking to him. Many photographs were taken. The minister baptized his grandson. It was a glorious lifetime. Afterward, the minister wrote about the experience, told of the love that was present in that hospital room. He compared himself to the shepherds in the nativity story who were given such a wonderful gift. He felt as if he'd seen the face of God firsthand.

“It is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

There are so many opportunities in our daily lives where the glory of God might be made known through us: in line at the checkout counter, in traffic, at work when things go awry – so many chances. I confess that it is hard for me. I get inpatient – in a hurry – sometimes Jesus is the LAST thing that I'm thinking about. But I recognize my shortcomings and I'm trying to change that. Maybe Lectio Divina can help. 

 

So how do we insure that God's glory is made visible through us? By drawing closer to Christ in faith. It begins with baptism but it is a lifelong process of giving our hearts to Christ. An intellectual knowledge of the historical Jesus is not enough. An acknowledgment of Jesus as a prophet, as a teacher, as a role model is not enough. It is only when we are able to say “Jesus is Lord,” and mean it, that we can make that breakthrough. Then the glory of God can shine through for all to see.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

4th Sunday of Lent

April 3, 2011

Change

2^nd Sunday of Lent – Cycle A

Genesis 12: 1-4a; 2 Timothy 1: 8b-10; 

Matthew 17: 1-9

There is a particular song that has always been a favorite of mine. It's special. The reason it is so special is that it has the ability to change me. It doesn't matter what is happening, what mood I'm in – when that song is played, I immediately become happy. It's incredible. One moment I can be tired or depressed and the next I am invigorated and feeling good. Have any of you had that same experience? Maybe for you it's a photograph or a memory. But you recall that moment and your whole outlook seems brighter.

I imagine that for St. Peter, the events of today's gospel was just such a memory. I picture him sitting in a prison in Rome, awaiting his execution. It must have been frightening. He surely had doubts. I imagine that the memory of the transfiguration sustained him. Seeing Jesus shine like the sun, standing in the company of Moses and Elijah – I'm certain that this memory reinforced Peter's faith and renewed his soul.

Today as Catholics, we share an experience such as this every time we participate in the mass. The moment occurs just after the offertory. Father begins the dialogue:

           “The Lord be with you.”

           “And also with you.”

           “Lift up your hearts.”

           “We lift them up to the Lord.”

           “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.”

           “It is right to give him thanks and praise.”

This simple exchange is designed to excite us – to pump us up – to make us ready for what is about to happen. It doesn't matter what mood we are in – it doesn't matter if we fell asleep during the deacon's boring homily- these words awaken our hearts and cause our spirits to soar. Something amazing is about to happen. We are about to celebrate the Eucharist.

There is something holy and mysterious about the Eucharist. We take ordinary bread and wine, gifts of ourselves, and bring them to our altar. And together with the priest, we participate in their transformation into the most sacred body and blood of Christ. As we pray together, the Holy Spirit accepts our offering and changes it forever into Jesus Christ himself. Bread becomes flesh. Wine becomes blood. This transformation culminates at the Agnus Dei – the Lamb of God – when the body of our Lord is broken – just as it was broken at Calvary. Father raises the host and chalice and using the words of John the Baptist proclaims “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” And we fall to our knees and with one voice we cry out “Lord I am not worthy to receive you, but say the word and I shall be healed.”

The word is given. We are invited to partake in the celebration. The bread and wine that was present only a few moments ago has been forever changed. But the transformation doesn't end there. As we come forward to receive, if we are open to the graces that the sacrament intends, we change as well. We become the body of Christ. We become the tabernacle that holds our Lord. And we take Christ with us when we leave this place and go back to our homes and our lives. We take Christ with us.

If there is one problem with the mass, and with the Eucharist in particular, it is that Eucharist can become routine. We go through the motions, we respond when necessary, but we are not fully attentive to what is happening. It is a rut that is hard to escape from. It takes effort and resolve. I ask each of you to open your hearts to the graces that this sacrament bestows. Don't allow anything to distract you from the miracle that is Eucharist. Allow the body of Christ and the Holy Spirit to mold you, to shape you, to change you into a shining example of God's love for all to witness.

I want you to look at the tabernacle for a minute. There next to the tabernacle is a lit candle. That candle burns continuously, proclaiming to the world that Jesus is present within that tabernacle. Every time we come to communion, come to receive that true body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, it's as if we are re-lighting our baptismal candle and and proclaiming to the world that God dwells within each of us. Carry that light of Christ proudly.

As we leave here today, recall the words from Genesis that we heard in the first reading: “Go forth … I will bless you; I will make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. All the communities of the earth shall find blessing in you.”

May the body of Christ bring us all to everlasting life.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

2nd Sunday of Lent

March 20, 2011

Rekindle The Flame

8^th Sunday Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Isaiah 49: 14-15; 1 Corinthians 4: 1-5; 

Matthew 6: 24-34

I love being a deacon. One of my favorite things that I get to do as a deacon is baptism. But there is one thing that bothers me about the baptismal ceremony. We light a baptismal candle, hand it to the godparents and instruct them that this candle symbolizes the light of Christ and it should always burn brightly. Then, when the blessing is concluded, the candle is blown out, taken home, and stored in the back of a closet, never to see the light of day again. That is something that needs to change.

These past few Sundays, we've been hearing Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. Today, as that sermon continues, we find Christ offering hope and reassurance to those who can surrender to God – to those who can trust in God. It is a concept that looks easy enough on paper, but putting it into practice is a completely different kettle of fish. Faith and commitment of this magnitude is something very few of us can ever hope to achieve. And yet Jesus asks us to do it.

“No one can serve two masters.” The things of this world matter not in the Kingdom of God. And yet – the things of this world are all that we know. We work, we earn our paychecks, we pay our mortgages, we buy our food and our gasoline, we educate our children. None of this happens by itself. We spend our whole lives laboring to provide ourselves and our families with these things. And maybe this is exactly what Jesus is warning us about.

I would like everyone everyone to stop for just a moment and recall what you did this past week. Make a list and arrange them in order of time and effort. Where does your job rank? First or maybe second? Now – where does worship rank? Or prayer? I would have to go down my list quite a bit to find either of these. Clearly something is amiss.

So what does Jesus expect us to do? Rearrange our whole lives and trust that God will provide? I don't know about you, but I would find that extremely difficult – maybe even impossible to do by myself. God never intended for this to be a solo project. God the Father, creator, loves us unconditionally and forgives us our shortcomings. Remember Isaiah? “Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.” He sent his only son, Jesus into the world. Through the incarnation, God has bridged the gap with humanity. Jesus, fully human, thinks the way that we think and feels the way that we feel. He experienced doubt, felt temptation and endured pain. Through the Holy Spirit, God's guiding hand continues to influence and inspire each of us. We don't have to do it alone.

Jesus knew that what he was asking us to do would be difficult. That is why he left us with so many wonderful gifts – to help us in our quest to seek God and to know him more fully – gifts like the Gospel, the sacraments, the church, and most especially, the Eucharist.

When I was a young man, fresh out of high school, I drifted away from the church. It wasn't because I no longer believed, it was because I couldn't be bothered. God and church were no longer important to me. Later I met my wife, got married and began a family. I began to realize that something was missing in my life. That something was God. I came to understand that without God, my life was incomplete. So I began to rediscover God. As for worship, I visited many churches, both Catholic and non-catholic. Some of the christian churches that I visited were nice. The singing was inspired. The preaching was quite good in some instances. But at the end of the service, I was left wanting more. Their service felt unfinished to me. Something was still missing and I eventually came to realize that what I was missing was the Eucharist.

There is something holy and mysterious about the Eucharist. We take ordinary bread and wine, gifts of ourselves, and bring them to our altar. And together with the priest, we participate in their transformation into the most sacred body and blood of Christ. But the transformation doesn't end there. As we come forward to receive, if we are open to the graces that the sacrament intends, we become the body of Christ. We become the tabernacle that holds our Lord. And we take Christ with us when we leave this place and go back to our homes and our lives. We take Christ with us.

I want you to look at the tabernacle for a minute. There next to the tabernacle is a lit candle. That candle burns continuously, proclaiming to the world that Jesus is present within that tabernacle. Every time we come to communion, come to receive that true body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, it's as if we are re-lighting our baptismal candle and and proclaiming to the world that God dwells within each of us. Carry that light of Christ proudly.

We rekindle that flame – that light of Christ – with every Eucharistic celebration. My prayer today is that each of us recognize and respect that flame. Use it's light to seek out the Kingdom. Use it's warmth to feel God's love. As we go forth, remember Jesus' words: “Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides.”

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

8th Sunday in Ordinary Time

February 27, 2011

Forgiveness

7^th Sunday Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Leviticus 19: 1-2, 17-18; 1 Corinthians 3: 16-23; 

Matthew 5: 38-48

  

The new Roman Missal goes into effect on the first Sunday of Advent this year. As a deacon, I am encouraged to sing the opening dialogue and conclusion of the gospel. This is very much out of my comfort zone. But it's something I'm going to have to get comfortable with.

Today's readings are challenging to all who claim to follow Jesus Christ. They are not easy and call for each of us to leave our comfort zone far behind. To use a familiar image, Jesus calls each of us to step out of the boat and walk on the water with him. Impossible? You might just think so after hearing today's scripture passages: “Take no revenge and cherish no grudge … Offer no resistance to the one who is evil … turn the other cheek … love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Some hear these words and claim that the Lord was setting an impossibly high standard. Only God could to this!

Perhaps they are correct. But Leviticus holds each of us to that same high standard - “Be holy, for I, the Lord, your God, am holy.” As I read that line, I began to wonder what God's holiness looks like. Today's psalm puts it this way: “The Lord is kind and merciful. He pardons all your iniquities, and comforts your sorrows. He redeems your life from destruction, crowns you with kindness and compassion.” This description of God is comforting. Each of us is called to be just as holy, just as compassionate, just as forgiving.

At every mass we stand together and recite the Lord's Prayer. Pay close attention to the words: “forgive us our trespasses AS WE forgive those who trespass against us.” We are praying that God use the same standards of judgment and forgiveness on us that we use on one another. I don't know about you, but this statement makes me uneasy. It's one thing to say “love your enemies” - it's a huge step to put this into practice however. I know it can be difficult but I've seen it done – and you have too.

Several years ago, a gunman walked into a one-room schoolhouse and opened fire on a group of Amish children. He killed five girls, wounded five others, and then killed himself. This was a tragic story, and needless to say, it made the news. As we sat in our living rooms watching the story, we recalled many other times a senseless tragedy had occurred – from Standard Gravure, to Columbine, to Virginia Tech. We've become somewhat numbed by the frequency of such events.

But there was something different about this story, something that awakened our senses, something that made this story continue to be on the news. The aftermath of this tragedy played out over the next several days as we witnessed a community's response to their tragedy. We saw them show forgiveness – not just by refraining from revenge, but by reaching out to the gunman's family and praying with them; by attending the gunman's funeral one day after burying their own children; and by taking up a collection to support the gunman's family.

Those of us watching from our living rooms as these acts of kindness and forgiveness unfolded had various reactions. Some thought it was commendable, but unrealistic. Many were awed by the Amish – amazed at seeing Jesus' gospel message come alive right before their eyes. Others sat and watched silently, tearfully as they wondered if they had the strength, the conviction to do the same. For some, that nagging thought remained in the back of their heads as they questioned if they could do as Jesus commands?

God knows how difficult it can be for us to forgive. He sent his Son, Jesus to earth, to become flesh, to live among us, to do what we do, and feel what we feel. Jesus Christ, fully human, experienced doubt, felt temptation and suffered pain. This command to love our enemies is difficult – but He asks us to do it anyway.

Today I look back on the events of five years ago and that question – could I do the same? - still tugs at my soul. Does it tug at yours?

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

7th Sunday in Ordinary Time

February 20, 2011

Taking Notice

2nd Sunday Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Isaiah 49: 3, 5-6; Corinthians 1: 1-3; 

John 1: 29-34

I must confess that I struggled with these readings and this homily. I tried and tried to find something meaningful – something profound to say about we are called to do today. But every time I tried to write something, I hit a wall. What I was thinking – what I was writing just didn't work.

Father Jim has said many times that the Holy Spirit takes care of idiots and priests. Well guess what folks – I'm not a priest – but the Holy Spirit came to my rescue this morning. As I contemplated today's gospel passage for the umpteenth time, it hit me like a kick in the head. “You fool, you idiot, how can you take something so simple and mess it up? It's back to the basics time.”

In today's readings, we aren't called to some action that requires a total commitment. We aren't called to change our lives or effect change on someone else. Those opportunities will come soon enough in other readings and other homilies. Today we are simply called to observe – that's it – to notice the awesome power and the glory of God in our midst.

John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Then he said something that made me pause. He said, “I did not know him...”

John was Jesus' kinsman. Of course John had known Jesus previously as a member of his family. When John says “I did not know him,” what he is actually saying is, “I did not see him as God. I did not recognize the awesome gifts that he possessed until now.” Let's face it, when you see the heavens open up and the Holy Spirit descend like a dove and remain upon him – that is going to open eyes. That is going to reveal truth.

We are all called to notice God in our world today. Sometimes it's not easy. Recent events in Tucson and elsewhere remind us that there is evil in the world. It's brought into our homes and our lives through the news on television and the internet. We are bombarded with images of pain, of suffering, of moral decay daily. Today's gospel is whispering at us – reminding us to look for the rose among the thorns.

A few weeks ago, I suffered a huge loss in my personal life. I won't go into details here, but let's just say that my life at St. Gabriel has been hugely impacted by these events. That weekend, when I was up here at the 11 AM mass, I couldn't focus. I was just going through the motions. I couldn't see beyond my own hurt and grief at this loss. To use John's words, “I did not know him.”

At the 12:30 mass, my eyes were opened. I was preparing to read the gospel. I bowed to the priest, and asked for his blessing. I went to the altar and picked up the book of the gospels. As I held it aloft, the sun came streaming through the large stained glass window behind me and reflected a rainbow of colors off the book. And I noticed. At that moment my eyes were opened and the glory of God became evident. I saw the rose among the thorns. Suffice it to say, I still had to deal with my anger and my grief. But knowing that God was present in that suffering got me through.

It's easy to recognize God in a place like St. Gabriel. The real challenge that we all face is finding Him once we leave. Do we see the glory, the awesome power of God in our encounters with others? Isaiah said in today's first reading, “You are my servant, Israel, through whom I show my glory.” Each of us has that glory of God within us. That glory is nurtured through the Eucharist and strengthened through the sacraments. The problem is that we don't recognize it within ourselves. We can see it in others sometimes, but not in ourselves.

I have a challenge for everyone today. Before you go to bed this evening, I want you to notice the gift of God in someone. I want you to recognize this special treasure – that's the easy part. The challenge is that I want you to tell that person what you've seen. You can call them on the phone, drop a card in the mail, E-Mail, Facebook – it doesn't matter how you do it. But let that person know that you noticed. Make that person aware – because chances are that they have never seen this gift in themselves.

That is one reason that community is so important. When we notice these gifts, these glimpses of the glory of God in others, we should point it out. We need to offer encouragement and validation to those people. We need to help them see how special these gifts are. We need to testify “Behold, the Lamb of God.” 

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

January 16, 2011