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Ash Wednesday and the Winter Olympics: Choosing a Path to Glory (Matthew 6: 1-18)

Given on Ash Wednesday, 2018:

Last Friday, people around the globe tuned in as the 2018 Winter Olympics began. Some of the greatest athletes the world has ever known walked across the Olympic stage to the tune of their national anthems as they carried their flags with pride.

For years, they’ve all dreamed of glory. And for a select few, they shall find it. Those countless hours of training, highly specialized diets, and nights without sleep will be for something: a golden medal fastened around their neck with ribbon.

These athletes remind us that competition is written into the human spirit. We all desire glory, but these are the ones who’ve trained for it.

Yet in a few weeks, these games will conclude and all will return home. The world will move on, as few will remember these athletes’ records, their successes, or their failures. Few will remember their names.

These athletes and the records they hold will fade into the annals of history.

***

And herein lies the wisdom of Ash Wednesday.

That ugly black smudge of ash smeared onto our foreheads reminds us that time is passing, that history will swallow all of us up, that death – my death – is coming, and I know neither the day nor the hour.

And not only me; everything and everyone around me is returning to dust:

… the trees that line this campus…this chapel we are praying in…the people I have loved… these clothes I’m wearing…my books…my favorite coffee mug… these hands that wrote this homily… even those prestigious gold medals earned at the Olympics.

Everything and everyone is returning to dust.

What, then, does this mean? Should we seek earthly glory while we can, like so many who’ve gone before us? Or is there an even wiser path to take?

***

Saint Paul tells us, “these athletes train for a perishable crown; but we for an imperishable one.” As Christians, we are challenged to train for the greatest crown of them all: the crown of eternal life.

And Jesus tells us exactly how to win it: pray, fast, do penance.

When we pray, we strengthen our relationship with our Father in heaven, the God who created us out of love, the one who knit us in our mother’s womb.

And simultaneously, we grow in communion with our brothers and sisters around the world who are reaching out to the same God, striving for the same glory.

When we fast, we remind ourselves that our deepest hunger is neither for bread nor for gold, but for God.

And when we perform acts of penance, we’re reminded of our weakness, the truth that we need Christ’s attention, we need his healing touch.

***

Christianity is the most demanding path of them all, for the only way up is down; if we are to rise with Jesus, then first we must die with him. And that begins by walking the path of humility, self-denial, and love.

And it continues by admitting that we are dust, and to dust we shall return.

But thanks be to God that is not the end of our story. The day will come when we shall be called by name out of the ash, and walking together across that heavenly stage, we shall proclaim the words of Saint Paul:

“I have competed well; I have finished the race. I have kept the faith…All that awaits me now is the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the just judge, will award to me … and to all who have longed for his appearance.”

May we compete well – and encourage one another along the way, because Christianity is not a zero-sum game; everyone wins.

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Jesus heals a leper: A call to kindness (Mark 1:40-45)

Sunday homily given on February 11, 2018

This morning I’d like to begin by sharing a very personal story with you. When I was in middle school, I was bullied by a student who was much older and stronger than me…

It seemed like it lasted forever. I remember him boarding the school bus every morning and sitting right next to me. During the entire bus ride, he’d hit me with his elbows and push my head against the window.

He seemed as tall as the trees, but made me feel as small as a stump. It was a horrible feeling, one which I believe the leper in today’s Gospel may have felt as well.

***

Leprosy was a painful skin disease that made your skin look like it was melting, like ice cream on a hot day. People were afraid of it because they didn’t know how to cure it.

Thus whenever a person with leprosy walked into a village, he or she had to shout out loud, “Unclean! Unclean!” And everyone would run away from them.

Can you imagine how it would feel if you were forced to shout out, “Unclean!” before walking into school or walking into work? Can you imagine how sad you’d feel if people ran away from you because of the way you looked? It’d be humiliating!

***

But the truth is I’m sure we’ve all known someone who’s felt like this leper.

Maybe it’s the person who sits alone at lunch, or the person who’s been bullied on social media, or the person who gets made fun of in school for being poor and wearing the same smelly clothes everyday.

Maybe that person is one of us. I certainly felt alone when I was being bullied in middle school. I just wanted to disappear!

And this is why Jesus’ actions in the Gospel today are so beautiful. Instead of running away from this poor man like everyone else, he reaches out and touches him because he was, “moved with pity.”

Jesus sees what other people choose not to. He sees a man who is hurting, a man who needs to be loved. This was somebody’s son, maybe even a brother. He was a real person; he had a name.

And this is not the only time Jesus does this. Throughout the Gospels, he touches the untouchable, he eats with sinners, and he speaks with those whom other people ignore. Jesus is a friend to everyone.

Our challenge is be just like him, to be kind to everyone, especially to those who feel like they don’t have a friend.

Yet how often are we tempted to do the opposite – to judge, to gossip, or to ignore those who are different? But they, too, are sons and daughters. They, too, have a name.

***

Being kind isn’t always easy, but it’s always right. It’s something concrete that we can do this Lent: we can set our judgments aside and simply be kind.

Say something positive to a different person each day. You may say it in person, you may post it on Facebook, or you may even want to send a handwritten letter.

However we do it, let’s treat others the way that Jesus treats this leper – with kindness and compassion. If we do, then together we can remind thousands of people this Lent that they are noticed, that they are loved.

As Saint Paul says, “Whatever you do, do for the glory of God.”

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Strange Words From Jesus: “It is not right … to throw it to the dogs.” (Mark 7:24-30)

(Gospel passage: “Jesus went to the district of Tyre. He entered a house and wanted no one to know about it, but he could not escape notice. Soon a woman whose daughter had an unclean spirit heard about him. She came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by birth, and she begged him to drive the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, “Let the children be fed first. For it is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” She replied and said to him, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps.” Then he said to her, “For saying this, you may go. The demon has gone out of your daughter.” When the woman went home, she found the child lying in bed and the demon gone.” Mark 7.24-30)

***

Daily homily given on February 8, 2018:

There are a few scenes in the New Testament that seem strange, or hard to understand. For example, why would Jesus refer to a group of people as dogs? Is he being incredibly rude, or is he making a point, one that is often lost in a modern context?

***

People living during Jesus’ time didn’t eat with forks, knives, and napkins; they ate with their hands. When their hands were dirty, they’d wipe them on a large piece of bread and throw the bread to their house pets, to their dogs.

Using this image, Jesus creates an analogy for his own ministry. He came to feed the Jews first; they were the chosen ones. But they have wiped their hands clean of the Gospel; they have rejected Jesus and his words and thrown them away, like bread tossed to a dog.

But notice how eagerly this woman consumes the words of Jesus. She is persistent and trusts that when he says her daughter is healed, she is.

And so in this woman we find the model for true discipleship. We do not need to be a Jew; rather, we must be like this foreigner, who approaches Jesus with absolute faith in his power to save.