We would live forever.

20th Sunday • Ordinary Time. [PRV 9: 1-6; EPH 5: 15-20; JOHN 6: 51-58]. The fuller version I used as a homily follows after this reflection.

“Brothers and sisters:

Watch carefully how you live,

not as foolish persons but as wise,

making the most of the opportunity,

because the days are evil.

Therefore, do not continue in ignorance,

but try to understand what is the will of the Lord.”

The days are evil, filled with revelations of vile and horrific behavior. The days are evil, filled with language and systems that ignore the cries of souls and bodies violated.

It was the rape of a child, and we called it “inappropriate conduct.”

It was the abuse of an entire family, and we made a risk assessment.

It was the vocation of an idealistic young man, and we crushed it and said, “call me Uncle.”

I have friends, faithful friends, who say it’s too late.

They say we have lost the ability to understand what is the will of the Lord.

We still believe that we “know” the Lord’s will: that the Church as we know it, must survive.

But if we listened – not to counselors, not to prelates, not even to popes – instead to victims, to those we call “unfaithful,” to critics, to church-haters, to so-called dissidents, to attorneys we disparage, we would risk everything we value.

We would lose our power.

We would lose our pomp.

We would lose our schools and our buildings and our hospitals and our colleges and our seminaries and our houses and our retirements and our health care and our silver and our gold.

We would have nothing left.

Only the truth.

And holy poverty.

And true food.

And true drink.

And the love we show one another.

We would be wise.

And we would live forever.

homily version

The Mother of Jesus has always “shown up” in my life when I needed her. I believe she asks Jesus for graces that I don’t know to ask for. On Wednesday, the feast of the Assumption, she was around again. On Wednesday I read, as many of you did, of and from the Pennsylvania grand jury report on sexual abuse in the Catholic Church. I corresponded with friends, some of whom are victims, and wrote this reflection for them. Some asked me to share it more widely, and it became a published piece on my blog, and the heart of my homily for this Sunday.

This is a hard Sunday in the wake of the week’s horrible revelations. I didn’t speak enough in 2002, nor in 2005, when I lived in New Jersey. I’m not here as the “official” representative of the Church on these matters, nor of your good pastor, nor of my Vincentian community. I’m here as your brother in faith and sorrow. I beg your pardon for not speaking in the past.

We lived through a time at the turn of this century of horrible revelations of horrible crimes. We set prevention measures in place. We hoped to move on by preventing future crimes and future tragedies. We moved on without really listening. We did not see what we did not want to see. We did not hear what we did not want to hear. The author of the letter to the Ephesians, to which we listened today, warned….

“Brothers and sisters:
Watch carefully how you live,
not as foolish persons but as wise,
making the most of the opportunity,
because the days are evil.
Therefore, do not continue in ignorance,
but try to understand what is the will of the Lord.”

The days are evil, filled with revelations of vile and horrific behavior. The days are evil, filled with language and systems that ignore the cries of souls and bodies violated.
It was the rape of a child, and we called it “inappropriate conduct.”
It was the abuse of an entire family, and we made a risk assessment.
It was the vocation of an idealistic young man, and we crushed it and said, “call me Uncle.”
I have friends, faithful friends, who say it’s too late.
They say we have lost the ability to understand what is the will of the Lord.
We still believe that we “know” the Lord’s will: that the Church as we know it, must survive.
But if we listened — not to counselors, not to prelates, not even to popes — instead to victims, to those we call “unfaithful,” to critics, to church-haters, to so-called dissidents, to attorneys we disparage, we would risk everything we value.
We would lose our power.
We would lose our pomp.
We would lose our schools and our buildings and our hospitals and our colleges and our seminaries and our houses and our retirements and our health care and our silver and our gold.
We would have nothing left.
Only the truth.
And holy poverty.
And true food.
And true drink.
And the love we show one another.
We would be wise.
And we would live forever.

Our reflecting and our speaking and our acting remain unfinished. We must speak and act simply, that is, clearly and truthfully. My spiritual father, Vincent de Paul said he loved simplicity more than any other virtue. “Simplicity is my Gospel,” he said. If you know this prayer, I invite you to pray it now with me.

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

O, God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy His consolations, Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.