Not the good son (October 1, 2017)

(Saint Joseph, Chehalis – 5pm Mass homily)

(Saint Mary, Centralia – 8:30am Mass homily)

(Saint Joseph, Chehalis – 10:30am Mass homily)

Due to the nature of this homily, I’m uploading all three English homilies, as each is somewhat tailored to the congregation to which it was preached. The text of this homily (below) is offered as an amalgamation of the three.


I have been dreading this Sunday. Not only for the announcement of the closure and sale of Sacred Heart parish in Winlock, but because of the Gospel today.

At the beginning of this week, I was with some priest friends and we were talking about the readings, especially this lesson from Jesus. The Gospel is especially convicting as Jesus asks “Which of the two did the will of the father?” The crowd answers that the first did, the one who said ‘no’, but then changed his mind. Hearing the Gospel, I am faced with the conviction that I am not the first son.

The office of the priest is threefold: to preach, sanctify, and govern. The first office is to preach. I’ve heard people tell me nice things about my homilies, that they are pretty good, that they look forward to them. And that’s nice to hear, I must admit. I even have extra help: I was ordained on the feast of Saint Anthony of Padua, who is also my confirmation saint. He was famous for being a great preacher, so much so that he was called ‘the Golden Tongue. I suppose I have no excuse for failing to preach well.

But I don’t preach the truth to you.

I am afraid that if I were to preach the truth you, you wouldn’t like anything I have to say. If I were to preach the truth to you, I would talk to you about how I’ve seen our community struggle with deep sexual sins that we just don’t talk about – sexual sins, especially pornography and masturbation, along with other impure acts. Sins that are afflicting all ages, even down to our school children.

If I were to preach the truth, I would talk to you about the scourge of contraception, that is being practiced even by people in this room, and that that practice is being actively taught to their children. I would talk to you about how our priest shortage is a direct result of contracepting entire generations out of existence.

If I were to preach the truth, I would talk to you about how I’ve watched our young people, our couples, struggle with the lack of support in our parishes. I would tell you that the groups that do exist are either dying from lack of membership or seem to those who want to join to be impenetrable.

If I were to preach the truth, I would speak about fact that so many of us here never receive the sacraments, especially the Eucharist. I would speak about those who come up every Sunday with their arms folded, living in a state of sin, but doing nothing to change their lives, to regularize their marriages, or to ask for help in avoiding the sins that enslave them. I would speak of parents, families who prefer to wait years to baptize their children so they can save money for a lavish party – meanwhile leaving their children separated from the Body of the Lord and the grace that is offered by the sacrament.

If I were to preach the truth, I would tell you that Saint Joseph parish is regarded as the least welcoming parish in all of Lewis county – that the common consensus at other parishes is that it is only open because it is ‘too big to fail’. I would talk about how in our parish it is possible for a visitor to walk in to Mass and not be welcomed by a parishioner nor be missed when they walk out.

If I were to preach the truth, I would tell you that Saint Mary parish is considered the most stubborn and angry parish in our cluster. I would preach about the fact that the most excitement and enthusiasm here is in defending itself against change – and that the most fervent conversation, sustained for two years no less, has been whether or not to buy a refrigerator.

But I do not speak these things. Like the second son, I avoid the hard work of doing Lord’s will, simply saying ‘Yes sir’. But I’ll tell you this – I do not think I’m the only one here that is like the second son.

“. . . .tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you.” Because they heard the call, recognized their neediness, and they converted.

It is not enough to claim that ‘I am Catholic’, ‘I go to Sunday Mass’, ‘I pray’, ‘I volunteer’, and that therefore ‘I’m good’. Jesus responds ‘Really? Are you sure?’

If you’re like me, you were probably baptized Catholic as an infant. You didn’t really even choose to be Catholic at first – you just woke up one day as a member of the Body of Christ. A gift, to be sure, but one that we didn’t actively pursue. As for me, even my priesthood and my pastorate has been given to me. Everything we have has been given to us.

And yet, we cling to the illusion that we are the first son, that we’re righteous, that we’re good enough. And yet Jesus challenges us: ‘Are you sure? Because it sounds a lot like you’re saying ‘Yes sir’ and then not doing my Father’s will.’

A great consolation in this is that we are not alone in being reluctant to do the Father’s will. Christ Himself – Christ who came into our midst, who knew from the very beginning of His ministry that He would have to suffer & die on our behalf, Who desperately wanted to achieve our salvation – at the Garden of Gethsemane pleaded with the Father “Let this cup pass me by – yet not My will, but Yours be done.”

How many of us only pray the first half of that prayer?

In a few moments we’ll celebrate the liturgy of the Eucharist. We’ll bring up simple elements of bread and wine to be transformed into the greatest gift we receive: the Body and Blood of Christ. And God offers to transform and purify everything we offer Him.

The lesson of the Gospel, the lesson of Christ, the lesson that is offered to us Sunday after Sunday, is that there is no heart that can not be converted except the heart that doesn’t ask for it. We have to ask. We have to admit that we don’t want to do the Father’s will – and ask Him to convert that reluctance.

May we confess today, offer here at this altar, the hardness of our hearts. Let us just be honest and say ‘Lord, I am not faithful; please make me faithful.’ This is the invitation of the Lord. He doesn’t just want our words, ‘yes sir’, He wants our willingness – to do our Father’s work. That we might glorify Him and that we might glory in His willingness to help us to do His Father’s will.

No estoy el buen hijo (1 de octubre de 2017)

Yo he estado temiendo este Domingo. No solamente por el anuncio del cierre y la venta de la parroquia del Sagrado Corazón en Winlock, pero por el Evangelio de hoy.

En la empieza de esta semana, estaba con mis amigos – otros sacerdotes de la arquidiócesis. Estábamos hablando de las lecturas, especialmente esta lección de Jesús. Dijo Jesús: “‘¿Cuál de los dos hizo la voluntad del padre?’”. En nuestra conversación, me daba pena que no estoy el segundo.

El sacerdocio tiene la triple función de predicar, santificar y gobernar – la primera es de predicar – proclamando la verdad a la gente, especialmente por el sermón en la Misa. Yo tengo ayuda extra, porque mi patrón de Confirmación es el San Antonio de Padua. Él era un monje, famoso por su talento de proclamar el Evangelio con fuerza y claridad – tanto que recibió el nombre ‘El Lengua de Oro’. ¡De hecho, yo era ordinado el día de su fiesta! No tengo excusa para fallar en predicar bien.

Muchas veces he oído cumplidos de ustedes diciendo que han disfrutado mis sermones – y me da alegría oírlo. Ustedes digan que hablo bien en estos. Pero quiero decirles hoy que no es cierto. No hablo la Verdad. Tengo miedo de hablarla, de decirles lo que ustedes realmente necesitan oír aquí Misa.

Si yo estuviera el buen hijo del Padre, hablaría de los verdaderos problemas de nuestra comunidad. Yo hablaría del problema de pecados sexuales con que tantos de nuestros miembros, nuestros hijos, nuestros niños están luchando. Yo hablaría de las enfermedades de la pornografía, de la masturbación, y otros actos impuros. Yo hablaría de la plaga la anticoncepción – que tantos han usado – que, por su uso, hemos abortado una generación de los que pudieron ser nuestras familiares, nuestras sacerdotes, nuestros amigos.

Yo hablaría del hecho que tantos de nosotros aquí nunca reciben los sacramentos – que tantos vienen cada domingo con brazos cruzados, viviendo en un estado de pecado, pero haciendo nada para cambiar sus vidas, arreglar sus matrimonios, o pedir ayuda en evitando los pecados que los esclavan. Yo hablaría de los padres, las familias que por su preferencia de tener una fiesta grande esperan por años para bautizar sus niños – dejándoles aparte del Cuerpo del Señor y la gracia que es ofrecido por el sacramento.

Pero no hablo estas cosas. Como el niño primero, evito la voluntad del Señor, diciendo simplemente ‘ya voy, Señor’.

Pero les digo esto – no creo que yo estoy él solo aquí que esta como el primero hijo.

“Yo les aseguro que los publicanos y las prostitutas se les han adelantado en el camino del Reino de Dios.” ¿Por qué? Porque ellos han oído la invitación de Jesús y han confesado que necesitan la ayuda para cambiar sus vidas, para convertir sus corazones.

No es suficiente decir ‘yo soy católico’. Creo que la mayoridad de nosotros recibimos nuestro bautizo cuando estábamos niños – no era nuestra decisión, y no es un crédito para nosotros que hemos recibido los dones de la fe. Y no podemos decir ‘yo vengo a Misa, yo digo el rosario, yo estoy justificado’.

Jesús responde a nuestra pretensión – ‘¿es eso así?’ Hay muchas pruebas de lo contrario. Estamos más como el primero niño que queremos reconocer.

Pero tenemos un gran consuelo: que el Señor Jesús ha experimentado nuestra renuencia, nuestro miedo. En Getsemaní, la noche ante de su Pasión – aunque Él sabía la victoria que iba a tener sobra la muerte, el oró a Dios: “Padre mío, si es posible, que pase lejos de mí este cáliz, pero no se haga mi voluntad, sino la tuya.” ¿Cuantos de nosotros oran la primera parte de esta oración, sino la segunda?

Esto es la invitación del Evangelio – de hoy, de cada día. Que confesamos que no queremos hacer la voluntad del Señor. Que decimos al Señor ‘He oído que quieres que yo cambio mi vida, pero necesito tu ayuda, necesito que cambias mi voluntad.’ Necesitamos ofrecer nuestra en este altar, aquí, hoy, cada Misa.

Nosotros si estamos como el primero niño. Pero hay una esperanza del Señor que un día nosotros vamos confesar y pedir su ayuda. En este momento, Él va a enviar su Espíritu Santo para cambiar nuestra comunidad, nuestras familias, nuestros corazones. Solamente necesitamos pedir que nosotros, en este Misa, en esta celebración, en este altar, ofrecemos la verdad honestamente que ‘no tengo en mi voluntad la fuerza para hacer lo que pides – pero con su ayuda puedo seguir su ejemplo.’

Y el Señor va a responder ‘Por supuesto Yo voy a ayudarte, Yo voy a enviar mi Espíritu Santo.’ Esto es lo que es ser discípulos. Esto es lo que es necesitamos hacer: confesar que estamos débil. Pero por la esfuerza, el poder del Señor, podemos ser fiel.

Dupes for brussels sprouts & Jesus (September 3, 2017)

Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh
Jesus Christ, incarnate by the Holy Spirit
Jesus Christ, born of the Virgin Mary
Jesus Christ, baptized by John in the Jordan
Jesus Christ, beginning His ministry at Cana
Jesus Christ, healing the sick and rebuking demons
Jesus Christ, forgiving the sinner
Jesus Christ, persecuted
Jesus Christ, celebrating the Last Supper
Jesus Christ, arrested
Jesus Christ, suffering
Jesus Christ, crucified
Jesus Christ, suffering death
Jesus Christ, entombed for three days
Jesus Christ, risen from the dead
Jesus Christ, sending breathing on the Apostles
Jesus Christ, ascending into heaven
Jesus Christ, sending His Holy Spirit
Jesus Christ, returning in glory
Jesus Christ, seated at the right hand of the Father

Letting the name of Jesus Christ settle into our hearts this morning, I’d like to turn for a moment to a more mundane topic, though it’s near to my heart too: brussels sprouts.

The reason I bring them up is that I see a pretty clear connection with Jesus. See, I love brussels sprouts. It starts with my father and a dish that he has prepared at our family Thanksgiving celebration for as long as I can remember. It’s fairly simple: obviously you start with brussels sprouts, along with broccoli and cauliflower. You boil them for just under ten minutes and then toss them in a sauce made up of butter, honey-Dijon mustard, lemon juice, marjoram, garlic, capers, along with a touch of salt & pepper.

It’s my favorite vegetable dish. In fact, it’s so popular in our family that all of us regularly insist not only that it be made at Thanksgiving, but that it be made several times throughout the year. I’ve grown up with a special fondness of brussels sprouts as a result.

It wasn’t until I was an adult that I found out that brussels sprouts aren’t actually a popular vegetable. Some folks outright refuse to touch them, with one of my friends referring to them as ‘stinky feet’. I guess that’s a reference to how they think they smell?1

It turns out that my father has gotten me – has gotten our whole family – into loving the most disliked vegetable out there. I’ve been tricked!

The prophet Jeremiah has a similar moment in today’s reading: “You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped.”

Jeremiah has reason to be frustrated. If we go back to his call to be a prophet, we are reminded of his original hesitant response: ‘I don’t know about this Lord – I don’t know how to speak. I’m too young!’ To which, the Lord replies simply: ‘Don’t tell me you’re too young. You’ll go where I send you and say what I command. And I will put my words in your mouth!’

So Jeremiah does what the Lord asks – and finds it to be both easy to do and hard to take. He does indeed preach the Truth, but time and time again, those to whom he is proclaiming God’s will reject Jeremiah, rebuke him, persecute him. And so Jeremiah questions, wonders what God is doing.

We don’t get off lightly ourselves. In fact, at baptism we are anointed not in one ministry but in three – as priest, prophet, and king – according to the threefold ministry of Christ Himself. In some ways, Jeremiah had it easy compared us!

“You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped.” – darn straight! These could be the words of any Christian, wondering at what God is doing with us, to us.

Lord, I’m too young, too old, too sinful, too weak, too afraid. Lord, I just don’t know what to say.

And yet, the Lord reassures us as He reassured Jeremiah: “Before you were formed in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you, a prophet to the nations I appointed you.” And Christ Himself reassures us: “….do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say.”

And the Lord has put His word into our mouths – the Word made flesh, incarnate by the Holy Spirit, baptized by John in the Jordan, Who began His ministry at Cana, Who healed the sick and rebuking demons, Who forgave the sinner, Who was persecuted, Who celebrated the Last Supper, Who was arrested, Who suffered, died, and rose again, Who breathed on the Apostles, Who sent His Holy Spirit, Who will return in glory, Who is seated at the right hand of the Father.

That Word is Jesus, Who will be placed into our mouths right here at this Mass. Jesus is the first Word, the last Word, the only Word that we need.

It is so tempting to dwell in hesitancy, in worry, in fear of God’s call. Saint Peter himself, along with the Apostles, was overcome with the fearful lies that Satan whispers in each of our hearts.

And so we call on the name of Jesus – to rebuke Satan as He did in that moment on Peter’s behalf, now asking Him to rebuke Satan’s whispered discouragement to us. In Jesus name we renounce the lie that we are too young, that we are too old, that we are too sinful, that we are too weak, that we can be controlled by fear. Let us focus not on the lies of Satan, but on the name of Jesus.

And let us receive the Word made flesh, made present in this Mass at this altar. Let that Word be the only one we rely on, that we proclaim, in which we put our trust. Let us receive the Word that nourishes us and proclaim His goodness to a world that desperately thirsts without knowing why. Let us proclaim the one Word that has the power to fulfill every desire: Jesus Christ.

(For those who might be interested, I offer for your enjoyment Father Maurer’s father’s brussels sprouts dish!)


  1. My friend has since corrected me – she calls them ‘stinky toes’, alluding to her impression of both the sight & smell of brussels sprouts.

For all peoples (August 20, 2017)

There’s a phrase that’s been running through my head for the last two weeks: ‘those people’. You know the people I’m talking about – those people who drive too fast, those people who drive too slow, those people who make me uncomfortable, who when I see them coming I think ‘oh boy, here we go again…’, those people who talk to much – or are too quiet. The list goes on and on.

There can be whole professions who are ‘those people’. Police officers, judges, who all must be corrupt in some way. Those people who are clearly too lazy get a respectable job and instead end up working in one of those jobs I look down on. Those people from another country who don’t bother to learn my language. Those people who cross the border illegal. Those people whose culture is so alien to me that I just don’t like being around them.

Those people who voted for Trump. Those people who voted for Clinton. Those people who voted for Obama. Those people who voted for Bush. Those people who wasted their vote on a third-party vote.

Those people.

We’ve seen that phrase in the last couple of weeks. It doesn’t matter where you fall on the spectrum – we all have some group, some professions, even some cultures that we label as ‘those people’. And we saw where it ended up – one group of people streaming out from their anger against another group, both of whom took up the battle cry against their version of ‘those people’. And it wasn’t just protest, it was violence, it was the claim that ‘those people’ were not worthy of care, of respect.

And here’s an ugly word: racism. Because that’s something undergirding this movement of our hearts, that lies beneath the label of ‘those people’.

If we want to claim that this is only a problem for other people, we’re lying to ourselves. The fact of the matter is that when I look into my own heart, when we look inward, we use that phrase ‘those people’. And there are whole swaths of people who we just don’t want to be around, who make us uncomfortable.

And it isn’t just here in the United States, not just in Charlottesville. There was an report this week trumpeting the end of Downs Syndrome in another country. At first glance, this seemed worthy of celebration, until you start reading and realize that the method to eliminate Downs Syndrome is abortion, the ending of the lives of ‘those people’ before they’ve even been born. Because ‘those people’ couldn’t possibly add anything to the world or live lives of worth, right?

We see in Scriptures today the Canaanite woman who comes before Jesus. She is one of ‘those people’ – who don’t worship properly, apart from the people of Israel. And she wants help from the miracle worker whose fame has spread across land – ‘please help my daughter.’

The disciples try to send her away but she won’t go– she persists. And in the midst of all this, Jesus puts to words the sentiment that is hidden in the hearts of the disciples: ‘you’re one of those people – we don’t give the things reserved to the children of Israel to your kind’. And she responds, gives this amazing statement of faith: ‘even the dogs deserve some scraps’.

I imagine that Jesus, having laid bare the thoughts of the Apostles, now turns to her. He’s received her statement – made for her sake and for the hearing of the Apostles – and He affirms both her faith and His mission to offer healing and salvation to all peoples. ‘How great is your faith!’ – and her daughter is healed.

Behind the phrase ‘those people’, those whom we’ve labeled, separated ourselves from – there is a hidden temptation of contempt. ‘Those people’ aren’t worthy of my presence, of my love. They just need to go away. And Christ calls that out today, to His disciples then and to us now.

In the first reading today, the prophet Isaiah speaks the words of the Lord that ‘my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples’. And we see written elsewhere from Saint Paul that there is no longer slave, freeman, Greek, Jew, man or woman. Of course, we all fall into these kinds of categories – but they are no longer to be sources of division.

What do we do about this? How do I respond to the reality that in my heart lies this evil, that in my life I have participated in these activities, I have spoken these words, or I have simply stood silently by while others do so? What can I do to break down the power of the phrase ‘those people’?

First in foremost, we need to recognize that we ourselves are ‘those people’. This is most evident in the sacrament of Confession – where we walk in, saying “bless me Father for I have sinned…. I’m one of ‘those people’”. And the Lord responds as He did for the Canaanite woman: ‘welcome! My healing is for you too – in the amount you need, with abundance and given in joy’.

We need to go to the sacrament and admit ‘I have been one of those people, I have been one who has caused division, who has let it fester in my presence, who has not spoken out against it.’ We need to confess this sin, for it is present not just in our country, not just in our state. It is present in this very room, in our parishes, in our very families. We need to confess our contempt for our brothers and sisters.

We need to lay this on the altar, admit our powerlessness to change ourselves or others – but with confidence in God, ask Him to come down and bless us, our families, our parishes, our world. We need to beg God to heal us, to make this house a house for all peoples.

One of the great things we celebrate in our faith, most especially in baptism, is that we are not ‘those people’ but rather we are His people. And that’s an invitation made for all – that we may be joined to Christ. And Saint Paul’s exhortation against division is no more evident that when we look at the saints across history – we see a rainbow of colors, a plethora of languages, and representation of so many cultures and countries. We see this even in the people gathered at an average parish Mass.

Christ reminds us that He wants to offer His love to all, regardless of skin color, culture, language, history, or sins. We are no longer ‘those people’, we are His!

As we celebrate Mass, as we see a country full of people yelling and shouting – unable to hear ourselves for all the anger that is festering and being brought to the surface – may we ask the Lord to make us that voice in the wilderness, a wilderness yet devoid of grace but thirsting for it nonetheless. May we be given the grace to offer a better way, even as we repent of the times when we have participated in contempt and division, in separation from others. May we proclaim the goodness we have received, the goodness that has been bestowed on us.

Today we celebrate what we see in the story of Jesus and the Canaanite woman, we celebrate our part in that – because we too have been labeled by others as ‘those people’. And yet God has called us out of that vicious cycle, making us His own. Let us proclaim that Good News, that we are His people, that this offer is made for all through baptism into the Body of Christ – that this house may be a house of prayer, for all peoples.

Some books I’d recommend (ages 13+)

I recently received an e-mail from a parent asking about book recommendations for their teenager. Never one to use a few words when hundreds are possible, I spent not one, not two, but three e-mails laying out some of my favorites, sharing my critiques of some of the more popular dross, and generally creating walls of enthusiastic text about some of my childhood favorites.

Not content to keep such treasures hidden and to avoid the risk of disappointing my faithful reader(s?), I thought I’d share that list here.

Unlisted because they’re a class above all others are The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis and The Hobbit & The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien

I mean really, what kind of list would this be if these weren’t the first book series that every man, woman, and child weren’t offered? But let’s be clear, the only order that the Narnia series should be read is the original publication order (A Horse and His Boy comes after The Silver Chair). Anyone who proposes otherwise is just wrong, so there.

The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy should be required reading for any high school student who wants to read the best fantasy literature out there. Despite being mostly wonderful, Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies are no replacement for the full four books.

We do not speak of Jackson’s The Hobbit movies. Ever.

5. The Giver by Lois Lowry

This is one of my favorite dystopian morality tales from early high school. A coming-of-age story, a cautionary tale, an expression of hope, mixed with a sense of wonder at the beauty of the diversity of individual gifts, it captured my imagination nearly from the onset and held it until the very end. Apparently they made a movie out of it recently, but everyone I’ve talked to (admittedly a biased sample) agrees that the movie didn’t do it justice. Skip the film and go straight to your local library.

4. Number the Stars by Lois Lowry

A historical fiction of Jewish children in World War II. While it’s been a long time since I’ve read it personally, I remember it being both a very good yarn and quite affection – though perhaps the wise parent should review it personally before passing it on. As with any WWII story, the harsh realities of human sin and suffering are present, as well as the heroism that every person – especially teenagers – desires to embody.

3. Hatchet by Gary Paulson and My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George

Why list these together? Because it’s my list, that’s why! And while these are two very different stories, they both hold to a theme of survivalism in the wild that so many (young and old) find fascinating. Whether it is being stranded after a plane crash (Hatchet) or striking out on one’s own (My Side of the Mountain), the survivalism is a means to an end: the growth of a boy into a young man.

2. The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

A set of puns and witticisms loosely tied together into a story! This fits neatly into the library of anyone who likes to play with words but doesn’t want to admit that yes, they do in fact like all of those lame dad jokes. Light-hearted fun, though it does have some heartfelt messages. Perhaps not as broad appeal as other stories, but good nonetheless.

1. The Time Quintet (A Wrinkle in Time being the first) by Madelein L’Engle

Rooted in Biblical references but built in a fantasy world (aliens, technology, et cetera), it is a sort of Narnia for older children. A bit of wonder, a bit of responsibility, and lots of character growth. It deals with some suffering & loss, as well as consequences of a bad decision (much like Edmund in the first book of the Narnia series), but easily one of my favorites. Well worth reading as an adult before passing onto your child.

There are a great many wonderful stories out there – perhaps I’ll put together another list (or ten!) in the future. If you’ve got a great story that you’d like to recommend, by all means post it in the comments! I’m always looking for another story to dive into myself.

Blessed friends of Christ (homily – Jan. 29, 2017)

Some time ago I was coming home from visiting some friends of mine – guys that I look up to, that I admire, and that I enjoy spending time with.  I couldn’t tell you what prompted it, but I started to question our friendship. The question that suddenly began to plague me was “why are they friends with me?” – these good guys, these amazing men….were they just putting up with me or tolerating my presence?

After a little bit of that, I realized I just needed to call one of them up and talk it out. So I did, and rather unexpectedly he responded rather simply “here’s why” – and then began listing a few things that he thought were good traits or qualities of mine. I remember thinking that while I wasn’t necessarily seeking that out, it was rather nice! It really made a difference.

The experience, both the brief struggle and the unexpected affirmation, stuck with me. So much so, in fact, that I began to see how it was something that I was being called to do for others – for people to whom I minister, my family, and my friends. Especially when they were down, it became important to tell them some of the blessings of their person: “you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re beautiful, you’re generous, you’re funny, you’re self-sacrificing”. What a difference it makes, and a blessing to me too, to see someone who perhaps feels badly about themselves stand a little taller.

I wonder if Jesus Himself wasn’t motivated in part by this same impulse, with the Beatitudes that we hear today. We often hear that Jesus’ heart was moved – upon seeing someone suffering, those who are shunned or outcasts, and even towards those who are pursuing Him as He was trying to take time for Himself. The phrase that often captures my imagination is when Christ looks upon one of these little ones and His heart is ‘moved with pity for them’.

I wonder if that fed into His proclamation of the Beatitudes. While there may have been some who were important in society, I’d guess that a large number of the people who came to Christ were those who couldn’t go anywhere else: maybe they weren’t welcome in the Temple, the poor, the suffering, and so on.

And then Christ gets up and says ‘blessed are the poor, blessed are those who mourn, blessed are the meek, blessed are those who hunger and thirst, blessed are the merciful, blessed are the peacemakers, blessed are those who are persecuted, who are insulted’. I have to imagine that within that crowd, people were not a little bit in awe – ‘really? Blessed…..me?’ What a great thing to hear, to be declared blessed by the Lord!

How important it is for us to receive this reminder. We’re not simply seeking or fishing for compliments. But we need affirmation that we are beloved, that we are amazing – that we are a miracle. That physically we are wonder, head to toe. Even more, our person – body & soul – is a collection of talents, gifts, skills, ideas and desires. That we are a gift to those around us, friends & strangers alike. That we are loved, a child of God. This is something that Christ wants for each of us.

This message is one that we need ourselves – before we can proclaim it to the world we must first receive this gift. How important it is to go to this wellspring of blessing and allow the Lord to bestow it upon us.

In our times, we seem to be in a moment where we are called to be very deliberate in proclaiming others’ blessedness – to be able to go to others and remind them that they, too, are blessed.

This week you may have seen or heard about the renewed discussion of refugees. First the executive order that bans people from entering the United States if they are from some seven countries and then a court in Texas that put a stay on the order – the topic is a hot one, spurring a lot of debate.

As I was reading the news about this, I was reminded of a conversation I with someone I was having dinner with, long before the elections. They were a family of immigrants and the immigration was the discussion of the time. As we were sitting at the table, one of the family looked me in the eye and asked me “Father Maurer, why do Americans hate us so much?”

It floored me. What a terrible feeling to have settled in one’s heart – that I am not welcome, that I am feared, that others wish I was anywhere except near them.

How important it is for us to be able to respond to that – to be able to say ‘you are welcome, you are a blessing – perhaps you look different, speak differently, come from a different place – but you are a son, a daughter of God’.

Especially in this political climate, in this division, when we are so tempted to speak of anyone as ‘they’ – whoever ‘they’ are – we need to acknowledge and proclaim that we are all brothers and sisters. I must accept them, I need to accept them – because I know what it is to need to be accepted, to hear the affirmation of my goodness from others. They need this no less than I. Blessed are they who do such things, and we who proclaim these truths.

In a few moments we will celebrate the Eucharist, we will be given the opportunity to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. And Christ doesn’t begrudgingly give, but willingly and freely. He looks on us and where we see sin and shame, He sees His brothers & sisters – “I no longer call you servants, but My friends”, He told us. And immediately after, “Go and do this in memory of Me” – go and do likewise. Go and give this gift to all, particularly to those who most need it.

As we come before this altar, may we first ask the Lord for what we need. Maybe we need to hear our good qualities, why we are His: “why do You hang out with me, Jesus? What do you like about me? . . . why are You friends with me? …. will You tell me what you like about me, why You love me so much?”

Receiving that gift, may we ask Him for the courage – especially if we have fears to overcome and hurts to be healed – to go out and offer that same gift to others. That we might claim them as our brothers, our sisters, our friends, to be able to tell them the good things about themselves, to enjoy together the blessings we have been granted.

Today we are reminded that we are indeed blessed. We are blessed so abundantly, both in our very person and the many gifts God showers on us. May we receive them, may we share them with every person around us – and that we may discover with great joy that the Lord means it when He calls us friends! And that we may proclaim that His generosity is not something held back, but that is given to us – and that we are invited to share with all.

 

Corpus Christi homily (May 29, 2016)

Holy Thursday, Last Supper (Isaac Jogues Missal)
The Last Supper

Happy Feast of Corpus Christi! Today is the celebration of the mystery of the Body & Blood of Christ.

Today’s celebration has a special place in my heart, as it is the anniversary of the first Mass I celebrated after my ordination – or as a friend coined the phrase my ‘liturgical anniversary’.

The feast of Corpus Christi is a wonderful opportunity to reflect on the meaning of Mass. In short: why do we come and celebrate Mass?

A quick answer might simply be ‘because I have to’! Sometimes our default motivation comes from the various shades of pressure, guilt or outside expectation to come to Mass. We may also be driven by our desire for fellowship, prayer, song and inspiration.

Though these are valuable aspects of our celebration, they’re not exclusive to the Mass, right? I mean, we could find fellowship at a BBQ, prayer at a football game, songs in our shower and inspiration from the bookshelf.

At its core, our celebration is about offering sacrifice.

The idea of sacrifice, reasonably, makes us uncomfortable. It calls to mind thoughts of having to give up or lose something, that we’ll be called upon to give our ‘pound of flesh’ as the saying goes.

…. sacrifice implies debt, something we owe to someone else. …. sacrifice is necessary because of sin. We often avoid the language and reality of sacrifice because we want to avoid the reality of sin – that I am a sinner, that you are a sinner, that we all are sinners.

“O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!”

Do you remember this line? It is from the Exultet – the chant offered at the beginning of the Easter vigil Mass.

“O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!”

With this one line, after having recounted much of the faults and failings of mankind, we are reminded of God’s great mercy, of His wondrous love for us – incarnate in the Person of Jesus Christ.

Yet we can not truly know our Redeemer without acknowledging that we need one.
Tomorrow we celebrate Memorial Day weekend. We honor those who have willingly sacrificed their lives in defense of our lives and freedom. We show our appreciation with a feast, often with a barbeque of some sort, music, fraternity and maybe even a patriotic song or reading.

At some point in the celebration, drinks are passed around – age appropriate, of course! – as someone calls for silence. Particular names of the fallen are shared, and then we raise our glasses in honor of them, and of their comrades. It is a fitting memorial to the brave men and women who offered so much out of love of our country.

In the Usus Antiquior or the Extraordinary Form of the Mass, there was a psalm that the priest quoted before receiving communion – a tradition received from the practice of our Jewish forbearers:

“How can I repay the Lord for all the great good done for me? I will raise the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.”

Sound familiar? We won’t just do that tomorrow for our soldiers – we’ll do that in a few minutes here at this altar. ‘Do this in memory of Me’, He told us. And so we do, at every Mass.

We can’t possibly repay the debt we owe for the forgiveness of our sins – that cost is ever beyond our means. But we have been given a gift that we can worthily offer in our thanksgiving – the gift of Christ Himself, the gift of His perfect self-sacrifice on our behalf: His Body – broken on the battlefield of sin – and His Blood – shed for sin’s forgiveness.

If you find yourself not entirely understanding the Mass and the Eucharist, you’re in good company! It’s all a bit heady, and a lot to take in. Thankfully, complete understanding isn’t necessary to join in the celebration – by God’s grace that may come later. What is necessary, what is vital, is that we enter into this mystery, that we take this cup of salvation, that we offer it to the Lord in thanksgiving and that we receive it with gratitude. May it transform us, so that the sacrifice Jesus made for our us may not be in vain.

Blessed

So, it seems I have a blog – which implies an intention to, you know, write. Which is in fact the case, as I have been mulling a post titled ‘In defense of sarcasm’. While this seemed a fitting introduction to the informal spirit of this blog, a title and informal spirit aren’t sufficient to merit clicking the ‘publish’ button. So I’ll leave that to percolate for a little while longer.

This last week has been strangely blessed. It started with the funeral Mass for Father Victor Cloquet, a priest of the archdiocese of Seattle and one connected to one of my previous and one of my current parishes. So I drove up to Saint Joseph in Tacoma for the celebration. The whole affair was a mix of different graces. Fraternity with my brother priests of the archdiocese & Saint Joseph‘s pastor – Father Michael Stinson (who graciously hosted us in his rectory). The sacrifice of the Mass offered for one of the gentlest priests I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. Reminiscing with former parishioners and catching up with seminarians.

Because I’m assigned to the wild, wonderful but remote hinterland of Lewis county, I took the afternoon to run errands in the big city. Highlights included a visit to Vercillo’s Catholic Book & Gift store, Lowes and the local cigar shop (appropriately named ‘The Tinder Box‘).

The latter was important, as I passed the evening with two dear friends who had recently returned from a 30-day trip walking the Camino. Stories were shared, cigars smoked, jokes told, beers enjoyed and generally much fraternity into the wee hours of the night.

Fortunately, Tuesday is my day off – which allowed for a late start to a lazy day.

At the end of the week, I drove to Everett to visit another set of dear friends and their four daughters – the eldest of whom is my goddaughter. It was the first we’ve seen each other in almost a year because, well, life and things. Their parents are trying to avoid publishing their lives online, so you’ll have to take my word when I tell you that these little girls are the very definition of cute. And my how they’ve grown! But not so much that they wouldn’t let their godfather read them a bedtime story on the living room floor.

Back at the parishes this weekend, we had another round of new communicants as we celebrated First Holy Communion at Saint Yves in Mossyrock. The pastor, being a shmuck, forgot that today’s Mass was bi-lingual and had not prepared himself to preach in both English and Spanish.2 Thankfully, God provided – though the congregation pitched in when a stray word eluded translation!

Finally, today marked the resumption of our Hackmaster campaign.2 Several of our members had been out of the country, our hosts on the Camino in Spain and another in Japan. While we goofed around in-game, we were actually doing a lot of catch-up in real life. Of course, that didn’t preclude the usual table-top shenanigans – featuring bad puns, Diggy Diggy Hole references, discussing which Doctor is in fact the best (10th or 12th?) and sharing in copious amounts of rich & tasty food.

The first reading in the Office of Readings from Friday of the Seventh Week of Ordinary Time had this timely bit:

This is a vanity that occurs on earth: There are those who are just but are treated as though they had done evil, and those who are wicked but are treated as though they had done justly. This, too, I say is vanity.

Therefore I praised joy, because there is nothing better for mortals under the sun than to eat and to drink and to be joyful; this will accompany them in their toil through the limited days of life God gives them under the sun.

Somewhere in the rich history of the Church, someone wise observed that every sorrow is accompanied by graces from God and every blessing is a strengthening against future sorrows3. This week certainly fits that bill! God is good.

(Edited for grammar a couple times – 2016/05/23)