“For some benefit”

(Homily for Pentecost Sunday, May 19, 2024. The readings were Acts 2:1-11, Psalm 104, 1 Cor 12:3b-7, 12-13, and John 15:26-27, 16:12-15)

Have you noticed that the gospel is always a story about Jesus, and it’s almost always the main storyline for the Sunday readings? On Christmas we hear a gospel about the birth of Jesus; on Easter we hear a gospel about Jesus rising from the dead and his empty tomb. All summer long we are going to hear gospel stories about Jesus traveling and talking and healing and teaching. Today we just heard a gospel story about Jesus making a promise to his disciples, but it doesn’t feel like the main story of the day.

This is Pentecost, the day of the coming of the Holy Spirit, and that story is right upfront in the first reading. It’s a familiar story everybody remembers: the sound like the driving wind and the tongues of flame coming on the followers of Jesus. That’s the story we all came to church to hear today; that’s the story we were thinking of when we wore red clothes to Mass today.

On that day the Christians suddenly could talk to anyone from anywhere about the good news, and everyone understood them in their own language. But the story of the Pentecost event, the birth of our Church, is not in today’s gospel. In the gospel passage, we get the story from a couple of months before the coming of the Spirit. In this gospel Jesus promised he would send the Spirit. The word Jesus used was “the Advocate” – so he’s promising someone who is on our side, speaking for us, advancing our needs.

As Jesus himself would say, if he were preaching, “today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” In the first reading, the promise is kept. Bob Dylan had some songs about his conversion to Christianity. One of them began, “God don’t make no promises that he don’t keep.” The promise of a savior was a promise God kept, in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. The promise Jesus made, that he would send the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of truth, the Advocate – God kept that promise too.

Suddenly the first Christians had ability to speak the good news so that it was understood by visitors to Jerusalem from every nation under heaven. People from Europe, from Africa and from Asia, locals and foreigners.

Maybe the apostles were so easily understood by all those visitors to Jerusalem because of what they were doing, how they were treating other people. Maybe their words were convincing and easy to grasp because they were backed up by how the disciples of Christ acted.

That’s what I think is asked of us.

God wants us to proclaim the good news to all nations. They way we do that, the way we attract people to our faith, is mainly about how we act, what we do; it’s not so much about what we say. The Spirit, the Advocate, speaks for us, and the Spirit speaks in our actions.

Our part is to share the gifts we are given. We are all given different kinds of gifts.
What are the gifts of the Holy Spirit?
wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord
If you were confirmed in eighth grade, you probably had to memorize those.

The second reading today says there are different kinds of gifts, all from the same Spirit. Each of these gifts is a manifestation of the Holy Spirit, and each manifestation of the Spirit “is given for some benefit.” That’s what Paul wrote to the church at Corinth. “Given for some benefit.” Whose benefit? For the benefit of that person who got the gift? I don’t think so: I think he means everyone benefits when the gift is shared. A body has many parts, and all the parts are necessary. The body of Christ has many different, diverse parts, and all of them, all of us, are part of that one body. Your part is important to the other parts.

Each gift of the Spirit, every gift bestowed on every individual, is given for the benefit of the entire body. You’re good at something, each of you, and you should know it. The reason you are good at something is so that you can make the lives of those around you better, so that the Spirit can be seen and heard in you, and in all of us.

Father Fragomeni, who presented our parish mission two months ago, reminded us that our gifts were bestowed on us for the good of all. The title of his three-day talk was “My Gifts, My Community, My God!” He made the same point I’m trying to make, more eloquently than I, that the gifts we have, the things we are good at, we are given so we can share them. The other thing we have to recognize is that the others around us may have received different gifts, and those are also for the benefit of us all. He pointed us to the VIA website to help identify our gifts, viacharacter.org. If you did not try that out in March, I commend it to you. The survey is free, and it will help you see what your gifts are and how you can actuate them.

Speaking of actuating gifts, I gotta mention the RCIA, because our season is concluding this weekend. The climax was at the Easter Vigil, when the elect were initiated into the Church, but for the last 50 days – 50 is what Pentecost means – we have continued to accompany them closely as they continue to integrate into the parish community, and to discover their gifts and how to share them. At the Easter Vigil we baptized three men; they received their first Eucharist, and we confirmed and welcomed into the Church them and five women.

These new Catholic Christians have come to care about each other like family. Less than a year ago, they had not even met each other yet. As we head into the off-season for RCIA, the watchword is what Jesus said in today’s gospel: “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.” It’s like he’s saying “You ain’t seen nothing yet!” When the Spirit comes and fills you up, then you’re going to understand.

The people in the RCIA were drawn to the Catholic faith and the sacraments. That was the Holy Spirit, enticing you, fascinating you, and the rest of us benefitted from the gifts the Spirit gave to you. We all got to see your example: What about it, veteran Catholics? Didn’t we benefit from the experience of the RCIA? Are we willing now, to be examples – to be people who live in the spirit of truth and embody the virtues of faith, hope and love?

When we do that, people from anywhere and everywhere will understand us when we tell them why we do what we do, because they first will have seen us living meaningful lives, caring for each other, caring for creation and caring for our common home. When that is how we lead our lives, other people might not even need to ask.

Let All the Peoples Praise You.

(Homily for May 22, 2022. The readings are Acts 15:1-2, 22-29, Psalm 67, Revelation 21:10-14, 22-23 and John 14:23-29.)

I kind of had to let this gospel grow on me: My first thought was, wait a minute, this is Holy Thursday material, this is Jesus at the Last Supper, trying to say goodbye to his friends. Jesus is preparing his disciples for loss, for his cross the next day. So what’s it doing here, six weeks deep into the Easter Season?

After a while though, I got to like hearing this message now. On Holy Thursday, we were anticipating the passion and crucifixion. We know Holy Thursday celebrates the gift of the Eucharist and the priesthood, but it’s also the end of Lent and we are all looking ahead to what we know is coming the next day. How can we disconnect Holy Thursday and the Last Supper from the Passion and the Crucifixion? This lovely message of Jesus – “I am going away but I will come back to you” – as we hear on Holy Thursday, the night he actually said it, reminds us of suffering, failure and loss.

But now six weeks into the season of Easter, we’re living in the mystery of the risen Jesus, the one who did come back, the one who said to Peter, “Feed my lambs.” The one who cooked breakfast for his friends on the beach. The one who says to all of us, love one another: That’s how they’ll know who you are, by your love for one another.
It has a different feel now.

Especially when we hear it in the light of the second reading: The new Jerusalem John saw has no need for a Sun or a Moon. That’s because of the presence of God delighting in the presence of God’s people; the love of God is what lights the place up. There is no need for a Temple, a place to go and worship, because God is present and visible to everyone.

What Jesus is telling us here is that in the world to come we will be in the presence of God and in the same perfect relationship of Love that Jesus and the Father have. As we hear this at this time of year, we aren’t looking ahead to the Crucifixion; we’re leading up to the Ascension, the day Jesus returned to heaven and left the responsibility to continue his mission with us. He promised to send the Holy Spirit; he promised to return, and he left us the gift of peace. Instead of failure and loss, this is giving us courage and hope.

The feast of the Ascension coming up next reminds me of the first time I climbed up here to read the gospel and give a homily, on the last Sunday in May, 2003. I celebrate nineteen years of ordination as a deacon this week. I have every intention of making it to 20, next May, and to keep on going, but I’m bringing it up so we can encourage some new vocations here. If anybody else still remembers when I was newly ordained, you must be thinking that maybe we ain’t that young any more. (Show a little faith.)

So I’m asking you to pray for us to get some new deacons, to join me, John, Lendell and Terry to serve our new parish. We need more of us. The whole Church needs more of us. I used to be nervous and excited about being the young deacon, and now I’m becoming the old deacon. I want to see young deacons again. I want to see them baptizing my friends’ grandchildren. No, that’s not true – I want to baptize my friends’ grandchildren myself. (I’m going to do that this afternoon.) But something I do want is to hear some good homilies from our parish’s next young deacons.

The way people have pitched in for the past year to make this new parish a success has shown me there are other deacons among us, they just aren’t identified, formed or ordained yet. Some of them are women. You’re out there, future deacons. If you haven’t thought about it yet, think about it now. Come see me about it. I won’t hurt you.

The early Church invented deacons to deal with a minor crisis; their first job was to make sure the Greek-speaking members were being cared for and not left out. The first reading today is about a much bigger crisis the early Church faced, around the year 49, because the leaders couldn’t agree on how to let the Gentiles in. It may be hard to fathom today that people would get that excited over what someone has to do to be a member of this club. Or maybe it isn’t.

But the earliest leaders of the Church, the very people to whom Jesus had passed the torch when he ascended to heaven, trusted the Holy Spirit to help them settle a doctrinal issue. They held the Council of Jerusalem, the first time Church leaders gathered and asked for the Spirit’s guidance to resolve their disagreement. They debated and they prayed. It surely got heated. There were tears; there were harsh words. The leaders of the young Church believed that to be a Christian one first had to be a good Jew, just like they were, and like Jesus. Keep kosher, worship at the Temple, get circumcised. Keep all of the laws handed down since Moses. Think: if the council had gone that way, our Church would be a variation within traditional Judaism. We would not include anyone who doesn’t adopt and accept Jewish traditions.

But the Holy Spirit sent the Church the other direction, opening up the doors to the Gentiles. So Christianity was to include people who mix different foods, people who did not keep the Sabbath, people who never heard of Moses and Abraham, people who chose to believe in baptism instead of circumcision. Bring them all in. Because of that decision, our Church became able to spread to the entire world. And today we respond to that story with the words of Psalm 67: “Let all the nations praise you, O God, may all the peoples praise you.”

Other councils have happened since that first one: Church leaders have disagreed, sometimes violently, and they have met and asked the Holy Spirit to guide them to answers. The creed we’re going to recite in two minutes resulted from the Council of Nicaea, where the leaders of the Church literally fought about Jesus being really God and really human. The fact a deacon is preaching this morning results from the council called Vatican II.

Seeing that leaders of the Church had disagreements but listened to each other, that they trusted the Holy Spirit to work with them and through them, gives me hope. It shows me that Jesus kept the promise that the Holy Spirit would come to us, and it motivates me to do what Jesus taught: Love one another. Let our love for one another grow into something like the love God has for us. God’s love for us led to suffering, not just for us, but more than that, with us. In solidarity with us. When we experience failure and loss, we can bear it in solidarity with one another and with God himself.

We will see a new heaven and a new earth because of love, not because of hate, and we are not going to experience the presence of a delighted God by pointing out the people who do not belong. We all belong.

Pentecost: Risk It.

One of my favorite tv shows ever was a quirky early 1990s series, Northern Exposure. One of my favorite characters was Chris Stevens, the DJ at the local radio station. Chris would sit before his microphone in the studio, all alone, just musing and talking to whoever might be listening about whatever would pop into his head. One night he said he was honoring the lost memory of the nameless cave man who had first looked at a lobster scuttling by in the water and said, “I don’t care what they say about how ugly and scary it looks, I’m going to eat that thing.” Because that caveman was inspired to try something new, despite the risk, now all of us can enjoy lobster, and shrimp, and crawfish.

Last night a lot of high school students went to the prom, and that happened because some weeks ago, one of the people in each of those hundreds of couples summoned up the courage to ask the other person to go to the prom. A lot of them put together some really elaborate staging and surroundings for the prom question too. (I have learned that one does not simply ask a girl to prom nowadays; rather, one puts together an inspired production.) There’s that word again, “Inspired.”

Inspiration is the main work of the Holy Spirit. In this gospel, when Jesus let the disciples receive the Holy Spirit from him, he breathed on them. There’s a closeness, an intimacy, in breathing on someone, and I can’t help noticing that the word “inspiration” also means breathing.

Where do we experience the Holy Spirit, in our regular lives? She’s here, you know. Do we appreciate the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord? Do we see how those gifts lead to the fruits of the Spirit – Charity, Generosity, Joy, Gentleness, Peace, Faithfulness, Patience, Modesty, Kindness, Self-control, Goodness, and Chastity?

When we experience inspiration, that’s the action of the Holy Spirit. It’s the presence of God working on us, working in us, filling us with ideas, filling us with courage, filling us with love.

The Holy Spirit inspires us to be community. By “community” I mean not so much a structure but a network of relationships and connections to each other. All those threads make a fabric, and it’s what allows us to get outside ourselves and to be there for others. A lot of us learn what that feels like in family life, when we got the chance to be a brother or sister to someone. Growing up in a big family makes that come so naturally. I’m really grateful for my sisters and brothers and what we have meant to each other. A sibling can really bring out the meanness in another sibling, but brothers and sisters also bring out the best in each other and nurture each other; we help each other grow into good people. But whether we grew up with a crowd of brothers and sisters or not, we are all part of a big family. A big, disagreeable, fun-loving, nurturing, challenging … family. We need to exist in community with each other, because there are things that we can’t do alone.

St. John Paul II insightfully identified social sin, “structures of sin” he called it, things that are just wrong in the world, even though there is no one person who did wrong to make it that way. It’s what Dorothy Day called “the dirty rotten system,” the evils and shortcomings of the world that no one seems to be responsible for. It’s because we’re all responsible for them. It’s faceless corporate evil. But faceless corporate evil can be overcome. How? By corporate good, which is what a community does. It’s only by corporate good, too: Only by people working together, by people being community, do we have any chance at changing the sinful structures that persist in the world.

And that doesn’t happen from being complacent and not taking risks. (Okay, that was an awkward double negative!) What I mean is, the Holy Spirit doesn’t whisper in anybody’s ear saying “Be complacent; somebody else will take care of it.” If that’s the voice you hear, it’s somebody else. Hang up. When the Spirit speaks to us, she calls us to be the best version of ourselves, saying, take the risk: “Will you walk with me, out on the wire?” Trust me and go hand in hand out on this tightrope, and take in this breathtaking view with me!

We think of the devil as the one who tempts us, who entices us to take risks we shouldn’t. The Holy Spirit entices us to take the risks we should. Listen to what Joan Chittister says, “The Descent of the Holy Spirit is the call to be abandoned to the will of God. It is a call to risk the consequences of God’s love, here and now.”

A “call to risk the consequences of God’s love.” We get that call all the time. The Spirit calls us to risk love, to trust in the will of God, every single day, sometimes in a new way each day. It may be to share more generously with those in need; it may be to forgive a wrong and be reconciled; it may be to change an unhealthy habit; it may be to show more compassion for others; it may be to take a public stand for a righteous cause. Whatever it is we are called to do, giving ourselves to the will of God is always a surrender, but it’s never a loss. Always a surrender, but never a loss.

That caveman who decided to eat the lobster, no matter what the other people thought about it: Did he think about the risk he was taking, or was he just hungry? We are all hungry for what the Holy Spirit is offering. So are we going to open up to the Spirit and be willing to take that risk? The risk of God’s love? Yes, or yes?