3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)  - “A Light in the darkness"

Where does Jesus choose to begin his public ministry?  Where does he choose to begin to make himself known?  St. Matthew tells us in today’s Gospel:  “He left Nazareth and went to live in Capernaum by the sea, in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali…”  This is not a random choice, Matthew explains, but it is so the prophecy of Isaiah might be fulfilled.  Matthew then makes reference to the passage from Isaiah that we hear in the first reading today: “the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death, light has arisen.”  The significance of this reference would have been very clear to the Jewish audience of the first century.  Zebulun and Naphtali were the regions in the Northern Kingdom invaded by the Assyrians 900 years earlier.  The Assyrians were the enemies of Israel.  They came in, crushed Israel’s army, and carried the people off into exile.  The Israelites in that region were deported to a foreign land and were essentially made slaves of their enemy.  It was a time of great darkness and humiliation.  This came about, we read in the account in the Second Book of Kings, “because the Israelites sinned against the Lord… and because they venerated other gods”  (2 Kings 17:7).  They did not heed the warnings of the Lord through the prophets to repent of their evil ways and to return to the covenant the Lord had established with their fathers.  The imagery is clear in the way God works: the place of great darkness, sin, and humiliation, will be the place where the Lord is discovered and begins to be made known, where the light will begin to shine, and where the kingdom that was lost will begin to be restored.  God goes to the depths of human darkness and suffering to bring the light of life.  What we experience as the worst possible thing is not beyond redemption.  God is not absent in our darkest moment, but he is there calling us, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”  At those moments, we have a choice either to curse at the darkness or turn to the light.  We should not be afraid of the darkness because in fact we may actually need the darkness in order to see the light.  To use an analogy, the astronomers need to go where there is a dark sky in order to see the stars more clearly.  The light of Christ often stands out more clearly when we are surrounded by darkness. 

          I began to discern my vocation to the priesthood at a particularly dark time in my life.  I was not happy at work.  I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.  I didn’t have a plan.  Very little that I did, even the little “successes” I had at work, gave me any lasting joy.  The harder I worked, the more fruitless things felt.  I did not see a way out of this situation.  I was afraid of failure.  I told myself that I was happy because I was following my idea of what would lead to happiness, but those around me could tell I was dwelling in a land of gloom.  It was actually within a few days following the end of a failed political campaign I was working on and a few days after the death of my grandfather, a great loss for me and my family, that the light of Christ broke into my darkness.  It was literally overnight that my life was changed.  I heard his call.  “You think you have nothing to offer, but I want you.  Come follow me.”  “You keep focussing on the failures and what you think you have to do to make things better.  Let that go.  Stop focussing on yourself and your mistakes.  Instead, focus on me.  Follow me, and I will make you what you are meant to be.”  I’m sure God was calling me for sometime, but it wasn’t until I was in the darkness that I could “see the light” - what really mattered in life.  The awareness that I’m desired, wanted, and loved even in my failure and sin - that I’m not defined by my mistakes - was worth more than anything the world could offer.  When those first disciples heard Christ’s call and were met by his merciful gaze, they immediately left their business and family and followed Jesus.  I get it.  From that moment in my life, I began “to sing a new song” - follow a different tune.  My perspective changed from seeing life as a series of obstacles that I had to navigate to overcome  - something very negative and burdensome - to an adventure of discovery: “I believe that I shall see the bounty of the Lord in the land of the living.”  Despite the darkness, the Lord had something good for me.  His presence and call gave me hope - that I could “wait for the Lord with courage”.  Even if I didn’t see where the path was headed, I believed that there was something good for me on the path - the path the Lord had prepared for me.  I just had to keep on following.  That event changed the way I look at the darkness.  I can look at it now with hope. 

          Do you see the light in the darkness today?  Where are you looking for it?  I often see that light - the light of Christ - when I meet young people following the Lord.  On Friday night, I stopped in to visit with the group that is taking a course on the sacraments of initiation sponsored by the Archdiocese that we are hosting here at St. Charles.  I met a group of young adults who were there to study and to learn.    What is going on that they are willing to spend two hours on a Friday night reflecting on the Catechism of the Catholic Church?  What is it that they see?  Who is it that they see?  Several weeks ago on the day that I spend with my parents, I went to concelebrate Mass at a local parish.  A newly ordained priest is assigned there.  His enthusiasm and the joy with which he preached were a reminder of the Lord’s continued call and presence in the world.  The young priest was a light - a sign of hope.  He reminded me of what the Lord had done with me more than twenty-five years ago.  Jesus is “the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”  Events like World Youth Day, the growth of new religious communities, and the recent conversion of Hollywood actor Shia Lebeouf, are signs that his light continues to shine in the darkness of the  world and that the darkness has not overcome it.  The Church throughout its 2000 year history has gone through many dark times, but the Lord always raises up saints in those times of darkness who will be lights for others.  The darkness, we can say, makes them saints.  In these moments of darkness, the Lord is calling us to be saints.  Will we curse the darkness or be attentive to the light?

3er Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario (A)  - “Una Luz en las tinieblas”

¿Dónde elige Jesús comenzar su ministerio público? ¿Por dónde elige empezar a darse a conocer? San Mateo nos dice en el Evangelio de hoy: “dejando el pueblo de Nazaret, se fue a vivir a Cafarnaúm, junto al lago, en territorio  de Zabulón y Neftalí…”  Esta no es una elección al azar, explica Mateo, pero es así la profecía de Isaías podría cumplirse. Mateo entonces hace referencia al pasaje de Isaías que escuchamos en la primera lectura de hoy: “El pueblo que habitaba en tinieblas vio una gran luz.  Sobre los que vivían en tierra de sombras una luz resplandeció”. El significado de esta referencia habría sido muy claro para la audiencia judía del primer siglo. Zabulón y Neftalí fueron las regiones del Reino del Norte invadidas por los asirios 900 años antes. Los asirios eran los enemigos de Israel. Entraron, aplastaron al ejército de Israel y se llevaron al pueblo al exilio. Los israelitas de esa región fueron deportados a una tierra extranjera y esencialmente se convirtieron en esclavos de su enemigo. Fue una época de gran oscuridad y humillación. Esto sucedió, leemos en el relato del Segundo Libro de los Reyes, “porque los hijos de Israel habían pecado contra contra el Señor… y porque se habían vuelto hacia otros dioses” (2 Reyes 17,7). No prestaron atención a las advertencias del Señor por medio de los profetas de arrepentirse de sus malos caminos y volver a la alianza que el Señor había establecido con sus padres. La imagen es clara en la forma en que Dios obra: el lugar de gran oscuridad, pecado y humillación, será el lugar donde el Señor sea descubierto y comience a darse a conocer, donde la luz comience a brillar y donde el reino que se perdió comenzará a ser restaurado. Dios va a las profundidades de la oscuridad y el sufrimiento humanos para traer la luz de la vida. Lo que experimentamos como lo peor posible no está más allá de la redención. Dios no está ausente en nuestro momento más oscuro, pero está allí llamándonos: “Conviértanse, porque ya está cerca el Reino de los cielos”. En esos momentos, tenemos la opción de maldecir la oscuridad o volvernos hacia la luz. No debemos tener miedo a la oscuridad porque, de hecho, es posible que necesitemos la oscuridad para ver la luz. Para usar una analogía, los astrónomos necesitan ir donde hay un cielo oscuro para poder ver las estrellas más claramente. La luz de Cristo a menudo se destaca más claramente cuando estamos rodeados en tinieblas

          Empecé a discernir mi vocación al sacerdocio en un momento particularmente oscuro de mi vida. No era feliz en el trabajo. No sabía qué quería hacer con mi vida. No tenía un plan. Muy poco de lo que hice, incluso los pequeños "éxitos" que tuve en el trabajo, me dieron una alegría duradera. Cuanto más trabajaba, más infructuosas se sentían las cosas. No vi una salida a esta situación. Tenía miedo al fracaso. Me dije a mí mismo que era feliz porque estaba siguiendo mi idea de lo que me llevaría a la felicidad, pero los que me rodeaban podían decir que estaba viviendo en una tierra de sombras. De hecho, fue unos días después del final de una campaña política fallida en la que estaba trabajando y unos días después de la muerte de mi abuelo, una gran pérdida para mí y mi familia, que la luz de Cristo irrumpió en mi oscuridad. Fue literalmente de la noche a la mañana que mi vida cambió. Escuché su llamada. “Crees que no tienes nada que ofrecer, pero te quiero. Ven, sígueme." “Sigues enfocándote en los fracasos y en lo que crees que tienes que hacer para mejorar las cosas. Deja eso ir. Deja de centrarte en ti mismo y en tus errores. En su lugar, concéntrate en mí. Sígueme y haré de ti lo que estás destinado a ser.”  Estoy seguro de que Dios me estaba llamando en algún momento, pero no fue hasta que estuve en la oscuridad que pude "ver la luz", lo que realmente importaba en la vida. La conciencia de que soy deseado, querido y amado incluso en mi fracaso y pecado, que mis errores no me definen, valía más que cualquier cosa que el mundo pudiera ofrecer. Cuando aquellos primeros discípulos escucharon el llamado de Cristo y se encontraron con su mirada misericordiosa, inmediatamente dejaron su negocio y su familia y siguieron a Jesús. Lo entiendo. A partir de ese momento de mi vida, comencé a "cantar una nueva canción": seguir una melodía diferente. Mi perspectiva cambió de ver la vida como una serie de obstáculos que tuve que sortear para superar, algo muy negativo y agobiante, a una aventura de descubrimiento: “Espero gozar de la dicha del Señor en el país de la vida.”  A pesar de la oscuridad, el Señor tenía algo bueno para mí. Su presencia y su llamado me dieron esperanza, que podría “esperar al Señor con valentía”.  Incluso si no veía hacia dónde se dirigía el camino, creía que había algo bueno para mí en el camino: el camino que el Señor había preparado para mí. Solo tenía que seguir siguiéndolo. Ese evento cambió la forma en que miro la oscuridad. Puedo mirarlo ahora con esperanza.

          ¿Ves la luz en la oscuridad hoy? ¿Dónde lo buscas? A menudo veo esa luz, la luz de Cristo, cuando me encuentro con jóvenes que siguen al Señor. Este viernes, pasé a visitar al grupo que está tomando un curso sobre los sacramentos de iniciación patrocinado por la Arquidiócesis que estamos hospedando aquí en San Carlos.  Conocí a un grupo de jóvenes adultos que estaban allí para estudiar y aprender. ¿Qué está pasando que están dispuestos a pasar dos horas un viernes por la noche reflexionando sobre el Catecismo de la Iglesia Católica? ¿Qué es lo que ven? ¿A quién ven? Hace varias semanas, el día que pasé con mis padres, fui a concelebrar misa en una parroquia local. Allí se asigna un sacerdote recién ordenado. Su entusiasmo y la alegría con la que predicaba eran un recordatorio del continuo llamado y presencia del Señor en el mundo. El joven sacerdote era una luz, un signo de esperanza. Me recordó lo que el Señor había hecho conmigo hace más de veinticinco años. Jesús es “la luz del género humano; la luz brilla en las tinieblas, y las tinieblas no la han vencido.” Eventos como la Jornada Mundial de la Juventud, el crecimiento de nuevas comunidades religiosas y la reciente conversión del actor de Hollywood Shia Lebeouf, son señales de que su luz sigue brillando en las tinieblas del mundo y que las tinieblas no la han vencido. La Iglesia a lo largo de sus 2000 años de historia ha pasado por muchos tiempos oscuros, pero el Señor siempre levanta santos en esos tiempos de oscuridad que serán luz para los demás. La oscuridad, podemos decir, los hace santos. En estos momentos de oscuridad, el Señor nos está llamando a ser santos. ¿Maldeciremos las tinieblas o estaremos atentos a la luz?  ¡Que Dios los bendiga!

2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time  - “Behold, the Lamb of God.”

Several friends of mine in the last week have shared with me their ongoing struggles with life’s difficulties.  They will say something like, “It feels like God doesn’t love me because I am suffering these things.”  We focus on our own problems and see other people without those problems and ask, “Why me?  Why is this happening to me?  Why is God permitting this to happen to me?”  “What is the purpose of it?  I can’t see any good in it.”  Believe me, I have this temptation too as a pastor - to indulge in some self-pity with the challenges of parish life or to be envious of other pastors who seem to be having an easier go about it.  If I don’t see the good in what is happening, does that mean I should leave the situation?  If I can’t fix it, do I quit?  We can have this struggle when we have done nothing wrong - e.g., when we suffer the effects of a natural disaster, are born with a physical or psychological condition that disables us in some way, have a child that is suffering in some way, or we are the victim of the sin of another, but also when we are suffering from our own sinfulness and mistakes.  “Why do I have this weakness?  Why do I keep making the same mistakes or poor choices?”  The questions can be summed up with, “Why do I have this particular cross to bear?”  It is no consolation to say, “well it could be worse” or “at least I don’t have it as bad as that guy.” 

          One of the things I’ve discovered repeatedly in ministry is that a struggle, a loss, or a suffering that I’ve had has become a way to relate to or to connect with someone who is struggling with something similar.  It has allowed me to accompany someone and to speak to someone with a credibility that I would not have otherwise had.  Sometimes it is only in that moment when that suffering or event from the past becomes an opening to share the Good News and help someone who is struggling, that I realize why it happened to me.  “Ah, that was the good in it.  That was the reason for it.”  This is the mystery of redemption and how God is working good out of evil in ways we do not understand and cannot perceive in advance.  Perhaps I’ve learned a lesson from my mistake that I can share with someone who has done something similar and is discouraged.  The suffering I’ve endured has made me more compassionate toward someone struggling with something similar.  If God has transformed my life in some way through a cross that I carried, I’ve been able to be a witness to hope for someone in the midst of the same cross.  Support groups work in this way.  Not only is helpful to discover that I’m not the only one with this struggle, but we are given strength by the witness of someone who has survived and even thrived precisely by accepting the suffering they’ve endured.  Their witness encourages us to stay on the road - to keep following the path, to not give up. 

          Recently, I watched the interview that Bishop Barron did with the actor Shia LaBeouf.  I was not familiar with the actor, but heard about him because he converted to Catholicism while preparing to play Padre Pio in a new movie about the saint.  There were many graces and encounters that led to his conversion, but Shia speaks in the interview about how he identified with this Capuchin Friar who was misunderstood, suffered false accusations, and was basically confined to his room and not permitted to celebrate the sacraments publicly for nearly 10 years.  When faced with this indignity and suffering, Padre Pio could have left the monastery and started his own “church” - he was popular, he had a following and many supporters, but he chose to embrace the cross and was obedient to what the Church asked him to do.  He didn’t rebel, but he quietly took the “exile” as a way to become more Christ-like and to continue to serve as he could.  Padre Pio bore the “stigmata” - the wounds of Christ on his body.  He was identified with the suffering of Christ, which is a suffering that redeemed the world.  Bishop Barron comments, “It is precisely through our pain very often that we find salvation, but also we become a vehicle of salvation to others.”  Shia felt this deep identification with Pio and began to look at the way Pio moved through his exile and began to follow that way.  When Shia began to surrender and to let go of his own ego and “get out of the way”, things became freer for him.  Barron points out, listening to this story, that in the 1920s, in the life of Padre Pio, God had Shia LaBeouf in mind.  The suffering going on in Padre Pio’s life at that time was for the salvation of this young actor in 2022.  LaBeouf says, “when you look at this, it is like a suffering ‘hack’”.  Then you feel that the suffering is a gift.  That you actually blessed me with this.  The old me was upset and resentful when I was accused by this woman.  Now I think that that woman saved my life.  The miracle is the change in my perspective.  I could not have done it on my own.”  This man who was very close to ending his own life, is now on fire for Christ.  LaBeouf was saved by following a man who in the midst of his suffering kept his eyes on Christ. 

          How do we respond to what is happening to us and not just look at ourselves as victims of circumstances?  A responsible person lives life as a response to an Other who is calling him in the circumstances of his life.  We have to focus not on what we have to do - a list of tasks to accomplish - but rather on the face of the one who is calling us.  John the Baptist calls to us: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”  Jesus is the suffering servant, the lamb led to the slaughter, the one whose sacrifice embraced the suffering of all humanity, who entered the depths of human despair and made of it, through his self-offering, a path to God, a path to salvation and new life for all.  We can only find Christ where we are  - in the life we are living - not in a life we wish we had.  In times of trial, Jesus is not absent, but he is walking toward us and with us.  Let’s ask to “behold him” as we do at every Mass at the elevation of the Sacred Host.  He is “hidden” but present.  He is here to feed us, strengthen us, and accompany us on the journey.  When we struggle with suffering, let’s pray as we do in the psalm: “Here am I, Lord; I come to do your will.”  It is not just about us and fixing our problems or changing our circumstances or even helping our neighbor.  That is “too little” for God.  He wants to make each of us a light to the nations, so that his salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.

2do Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario - "He aquí el Cordero de Dios".