Are you ready to RUMBLE!!??

3rd Week OT (Wed): Act 9.1-22; Mark 16.15-18
The Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul, Apostle
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St Albert the Great Priory, Irving, TX


Are you ready to be converted? To be converted is to be transformed, changed from one thing to another, from one condition to another. It is to be turned around, whirled about the other way, and made into that which one was not before. It is to be flipped over, tossed up, spun about, and left to crash, hard, on the ground. To be converted is to be made over, done-over, modified, and radically revised. It is newly given, freshly gifted life. New life given for a new purpose, a different way of traveling on the Way to Jesus.

To be converted is to be resurrected.

The murderous Saul is on his way to persecute the infant church in Damascus. He’s ready for war with letters from the synagogue authorizing him to root out these Jewish heretics who follow the Way, to chain them up, and drag them back to Jerusalem for trial. Absolutely sure of the righteousness of his cause and serenely confident in his ability to prosecute these looney fringe elements, Saul sets out with his fellow thugs. What he’s not ready for is the holy smackdown that the Lord brings his way. I mean, who is ever really prepared to be surrounded by the brilliance of God’s glory, knocked to the ground by the divine voice, and questioned—questioned!—by Christ himself?

You know the rest of the story. Saul is converted. Dramatically converted. The Living God reaches out to Saul, makes it clear to him that he is not merely chasing after heretics, but that he is chasing after Jesus Himself, persecuting the Lord of the Law and the Prophets, his God since the Word was breathed across the void. This encounter, this meeting of creature and Creator is a resurrection. From death to life. From stony Law to fleshy beatitude. From zeal for an Older Righteousness to zeal for a Newer Holiness. Saul is taken up, spun around, smacked about, dropped on his head, blinded, and sent like a naughty child to the church for instruction. He is brought down and risen up; he is, in the language of the business world, “re-purposed.”

Are you ready to be converted? Are you ready for your resurrection? You might object and say that you are already converted, already turned around and headed to God. No doubt. But a life of holiness, the universal call to live a holy life, is always about the day-to-day, hour-to-hour, minute-to-minute work of turning to face the Lord, of being ready to meet Him face-to-face, and to hear a new plan for your life. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to be sent out? Ready to find yourself walking into a task blinded, guided by someone you don’t know? Ready to be a child for a while, taught and disciplined by a stranger? Are you ready for the Holy Spirit to grab you, smack you around a bit, and put you on a path diametrically opposed to anything you’ve ever thought of before? In other words, are you ready to be resurrected? Are you ready to be changed beyond recognition and given an entirely new purpose?

If you are, then here’s your job description: go out into the world, the whole world, and declare with clarity and confidence that Jesus is the Anointed One of the Father. Anyone who believes this Good News and is washed with water in his name will be saved from final death. Anyone who does not believe will be condemned in their unbelief. Witness to what you know about the Lord, tell your story of resurrection, make the fantastic plausible, make the implausible real, and be the one for us who stands up, speaks out, boldly declares the love, the mercy, the forgiveness of the Lord. And never fail in announcing the freely given, abundantly stocked, no-waiting-in-line offer to start over, to repent and believe the Gospel.

An urgent faith...

3rd Sunday OT: Jon 3.1-5, 10; 1 Cor 7.29-31; Mark 1.14-20
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St. Paul’s Hospital, Dallas and Church of the Incarnation, Irving, TX


I first came to Jesus as a child living in Slidell, LA way back in the 1970’s. A Baptist friend of mine drew me into his faith by telling me about the Last Days. I was fascinated by the idea that no one would be able to kill himself during the Tribulations and that the world would be covered with blood as high as a horse’s bridle and that army after army would march against The Beast and his doomed troops. It was too much for my ten-year old imagination, but I took it in and it all came together with images of helicopters, tanks, artillery, and the frantic push to defeat an Enemy, the panicked drive to win against the devil’s agent and vindicate the Biblical prophecy: watching Satan and his minions be thrown into the pit by the Lord’s terrible angels. I asked for that story over and over again. And found myself hypnotized again and again by the chaos of a righteous war against Evil, the Final Battle where Jesus thumps Satan for the last time. And those of us who knew Jesus as our personal Lord and Savior would be feasted endlessly in Heaven, victorious soldiers for holiness and purity.

It was too much. But it got me here. I hadn’t read Lord of the Rings or Narnia. Nor had I thought much about the longer job of holiness. What grabbed me then was the exhilaration, the urgency of history crashing to its end in this apocalyptic battle, the near-panic I felt to be on the right side, to be among the winners and to feel a part of something much, much bigger than my ten-year old life in Slidell. It was vital that I be involved, that I had a side, that I fought for a cause and that that cause was Right. I believed! And my conviction was electric.

Is there an urgency to your faith? Is there something vitally compelling about your trust in God that pushes you, drives you along? Maybe a better way to ask the question is this: what gets you up every morning, in the shower, dressed, and on the road? This isn’t a question about loyalty or priory? It is a question about how you understand and live out your promise to God to be His today, all day, and tomorrow, forever. Does your faith juice you up? Hurry you to holiness? Speed you to prayer, to service in His name? Is there an urgency to your faith?

Paul says there needs to be: “I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time is running out […] For the world in its present form is passing away.” If you’re weeping, he says, stop. There’s no time. If you are married, no time! If you are rejoicing, no time! Living in the world like there’s no tomorrow? Well, there isn’t! Everything is passing away, cinders and fumes, dust and wind, everything is going and there is an urgency to making your life right, getting the house of your faith in order. Of course, Paul and his readers are expecting Christ to come again at any moment. Just any day soon. But urgency is urgency when we’re talking about the quality of our trust, the strength of our faith.

John the Baptist has been arrested and in Galilee Jesus preaches: “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.” Several centuries earlier the people of Nineveh heard the same exhortation and they believed God; they took Him at His word, repented, called a fast, and put on sackcloth to show their humility. Jesus’ declaration of the time of fulfillment is the declaration of his advent in the world, his coming into human history to open the way for the Kingdom of God, to clear our way to that Kingdom, and to give us the Good News of his salvation. If this world is passing away and now is the time of fulfillment and the Kingdom of God is at hand, then I ask you again: is there an urgency to your faith? Are you pushed, driven into the world daily by your trust in God?

If not, what pushes you, what drives you? One of the usual things, I would guess: career, school, success, money, personal loyalty, an imaginative story, an ideology, a political agenda, a need for recognition…none of these are bad, of course, but they will pass away. Cinders and fumes, dust and wind. Gone. And soon enough. And what’s left for you? What’s left for any of us when the things we so eagerly invest in—the projects, the ideas, the people—what do we do when everything we pour ourselves into do what all impermanent things do: die and fade away? We mourn, of course. But our lives can’t be about mourning loss.

The very heart of the gospel is that we are saved, healed, made whole on the cross by the love Jesus has for us. The urgency of our faith is the urgency of the cross, the imperative love of Christ’s sacrifice, the vitality of his hope for us—that we will welcome the Holy Spirit among us, dwell lovingly with each one another in his Spirit, grow steadily in his Truth, hand on the faith to family to community to state to empire, and, finally, come back to him, to his beauty, his glory, and be with him without end. This is not a gospel of loss, of grief and mourning, of dust and fumes, or apocalypse and righteous battle. This is a gospel of lasting goodness and everlasting life, permanent mercy and all-pervading grace; a gospel of ceaseless vitality and living strength. And it is our gospel! Our story! Our work in the world and our dare, our charge—to be with Christ in here and to be Christ out there.

Is there an urgency to your faith? If not, maybe this will help: we are nothing without God. Literally, nothing. We are given life, given being by the Father. Without Him, we are nothing; we are no-thing. We are made to be creatures of praise and thanksgiving, rational animals made to grow and flourish knowing that we will return to Him. Give Him thanks for your creation. Offer him as a gift the gift He has given you: your life. Simply say, “Thank you, Lord, for my life and I give it back to you.” With conviction and longing to live with Him forever, your gratitude will produce humility and your humility will make prayer easier and easier, and you will see, with time and commitment, that being thankful to God adds an urgency to your trust in Him, a hurry to speak His Word to others, a holy panic (if you will!) to follow Him and collect others with you. You will leak out joy, seep out the good news, and scatter the tiny seeds of a holy trust on every kind of soil.

Is there an urgency to your faith? Forty days to destruction. Time is running out. The present world is passing. This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe! “Come after me,” Jesus says, “I will make you fishers of men.”

I will make you preachers of my Good News!

Praedicare! To Preach!

Praedicare! To preach! What does it mean “to preach”? Is reading a homily from the pulpit preaching? Is washing dishes at a homeless shelter preaching? Is a loud, haranguing diatribe against sin/injustice/the Bush administration preaching? Is throwing little vials of your blood on parked bombers at an Air Force base preaching?

The most obvious and readily accessible form of preaching is the homily delivered at Mass by the priest-celebrant. I think most everyone will agree that this is preaching. Are there other forms of preaching? No doubt. But let’s look at liturgical preaching in the hope of getting a better understanding of what preaching is more broadly understood.

A little clarity from the Catechism: “The liturgy of the Word is an integral part of sacramental celebrations. To nourish he faith of believers, the signs which accompany the Word of God should be emphasized: […] the place of [the Word’s] proclamation (lectern or ambo), [the Word’s] audible and intelligible reading, the minister's homily which extends [the Word’s] proclamation…” (CCC n. 1154).

So, the homily is an extension of the Word’s proclamation. To give voice to the Word, to project it out to be heard is preaching. Let’s break this down even more:

1. When we say that we “proclaim the Word,” what do we mean? When we proclaim the Word, we make the Word plain in a striking way. Straightforwardly conspicuous? Memorably obvious? The idea here is that our proclamation of the Word must be plain, simple, unadorned and at the same time beautiful, noble, seductive. Not an easy balance.

2. How does the homily “extend the proclamation of the Word”? If the proclamation of the Word must be simple and seductive, then the preaching of the Word can be nothing less. There’s no sense in which we can talk about the homily improving on the Word or going deeper than the Word can go. The Word needs no improvement. It goes to the marrow of the bone. There is no deeper. This is why I like the idea of preaching as an “extension of the Word.”

The good homily will…

…draw out the Word,
…lengthen it,
…spread it out,
…lift it up,
…hand it over,
…and give it lots of volume!

The bad homily will…

…discourage the Word,
…flatten it,
…draw it in,
…hold it down,
…keep it closed,
…and whisper, whine, and wail.

3. Is there a difference between “delivering a homily” and “preaching the Word”? Yes and no. I suppose, strictly speaking, these two are the same. However, I also want to say that there is a Big Difference between merely speaking about the Word and giving the Word voice. There is a difference between reading the Bible and proclaiming the Word. There is a difference between the performance of a text and embodying the living Word—speaking, living, putting it out there, consuming, and being consumed. The homily, the preaching, is that moment of clarity and grace when the preacher exposes the Word, trespasses against a dark silence, exhorts and extols goodness, teaches Life against Sin, and invokes with his very breath the memory, the treasure, the story, the poetry of the faithful dead for the benefit of the living faithful.

4. You know you’ve heard a good homily when…

…you are encouraged in your faith, strengthened in your trust of God,
…you are set afire to read your Bible, to read the Fathers,
…you are compelled to speak the Word to someone else,
…you are convicted in your heart to conversion,
…you are shown mercy and you show mercy in turn,
…you are deepen in the Apostolic Tradition and the authority of the Magisterium,
…you are sent out, given the proper tools, and convinced of success!

You know you’ve heard a bad homily when…

…you sadden by the faith handed to you, weakened in your trust of God,
…your faith is attacked, ridiculed, dismissed, or called a lie,
…you are told more about what the Bible isn’t about than what it is about,
…you are more convinced than ever that your sins aren’t all that bad after all,
…you are shown lax indifference and you show lax indifference in turn,
…you are ridiculed for being “nostalgic” or applauded for being a “suspicious thinker,”
…you are closed up, properly aggravated, and certain of failure!

So, are all the things I mentioned above preaching? Sure. If they extend the Word as it is understood in the Church’s long tradition, the living memories of the apostles still with us, and if they set out to glorify God, to seek his face always, to strengthen and support the Truth, to call us all to forgiveness, and to throw the Word into the world, as is, whole, simple, and unadorned.

Yup, that’s preaching.

Summoned? Step up!

2nd Week OT (Fri): 1 Sam 24.3-21; Mark 3.13-19
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
Church of the Incarnation, University of Dallas


The demons loudly witnessed to Jesus’ authority as the Son of God. They writhe and wail when he preaches the Word, shouting at him, “What do you have to do with us?!” They understand, much better then we do most of the time, that Jesus is the Source of our lives and our salvation; he is the creator, the One Who Gives Direction and Purpose; and he is the Killer of Death and the Risen One. The demons writhe and wail because they know that Jesus’ authority is more than just legitimate legal power or profound social influence. His authority is founded in the creation of everything that is, rooted in the very fabric, the elemental stuff of every world there is. He is the Author of the universal story.

And one day, on a mountain, he picked from those who followed him, a small group of twelve and established the apostolic line, the college or collection of those who will go out, build-up, and carry on in his name. Jesus, desiring that his teaching survive and thrive beyond his life with the disciples, sets up a means for his teaching to be handed on, to be carried out and held up, passed on with authority. He chooses twelve, just twelve, to be bearers of his name to the world, teachers of his Way, and preachers of his Word. And not just any twelve, but The Twelve, summoned by name, pulled out of the crowd and set apart for the work of authentic evangelization.

Look closely at how Mark reports this process: 1) Jesus summons those whom he wanted, 2) they came to him, 3) he appointed them, 4) named them Apostles that they might be with him, 5) and be sent forth to preach, 6) and have authority over demons. And then we have their names. Notice that there was no nominating committee, no caucus to hash out acceptable candidates, no negotiation of the terms of employment, no participation by representatives of the diverse interests of the crowd, and no consultations with the benefactors. And they didn't appoint themsleves! Jesus summoned those whom he wanted. And they came to him.

Why? Why did these Twelve come to him? The Word seduces. And draws. He lures. And captures. Jesus the Word of God shines out unsayable beauty, unblinking truth, and his glory is diffusive. It spreads. It scatters and collects. Broadcasts and gathers, going out to bring back in. His Word touches our word and we are caught—fish in the net, sparrow in the branch—caught to be re-made, re-fashioned, done again in his image. It is our desire to be his love that drives us toward him. We are gifted with the summons to be his always. The Twelve—men, just men—answer. They come to him. And they are appointed to be with him, to go out, to preach, and take command of the forces of the dark.

Jesus summoned these men to be for him a living legacy, a lasting reach into our future, and we know them now as our bishops. Though he summoned these Twelve for this job, he summons us for other jobs, other tasks that require our gifts, our special skills and temperaments. Will we answer and come? Will we accept the authority of the Author of our lives and our salvation and answer him: “Yes, Lord! I will do your will.” What holds us back—fear, meagerness of heart, jealousy, pride, cowardice, self-righteous judgment, habitual sin—all of these are smoke, ash, nothing, absolutely nothing, in his light.

Your name is called. Summoned, standing before him, strengthened by his glory, say, “Yes, Lord!” Pick it up. Get out there. Preach his Word. Fight the darkness.

Be an apostle everytime, wherever you are.

Stretch out your hand!

2nd Week of OT (Wed): 1 Sam 17.32-33, 37, 40-51; Mark 3.1-6
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
Church of the Incarnation, University of Dallas


What happens when the heart grows hard? What becomes of us when our heart, our center with God, grows cold like stone and we habitually rely on the limited wisdom of regulation, policy, and procedure to make our moral choices? The world shrinks. Grows tiny. And that’s bad enough. What’s worse is that as the heart settles into habits of weighing and cutting excessive beauty and mercy, it is starved for charity and grace and shrivels and grows cold and dies. What’s left but to be angry at the waste and mourn the loss?

This is what happens to us when our hearts grow hard. But how do our hearts of flesh become hearts of stone? The standard interpretation of the gospel story this evening is as follows: the officials of the Heartless Religious Establishment refuse to do good because they are slaves to their strangled rule-following and puritanical notions of holiness. Jesus is the Warm Counselor, the Destroyer of Rigid Paradigms who rides to the rescue with his openness, his acceptance, and his tolerance of difference to save the poor wretch from the grinding narrowness of Those In Charge. Jesus heals the man’s withered hand and irrevocably sets the Pharisees against him.

Now, here’s my question: are the Pharisees rigid and hard-hearted because they follow the Law? Or, is their rigidity in following the rules a sign of their hard-heartedness? Asked another way: do they refuse to help the poor man because the rules won’t allow it, or do they refuse to help because their hearts are hard and following the rules is a just a way of making their hard-heartedness “right” in their minds?

The Pharisees refuse to help the man because they are trying to trap Jesus in an arrestable offense against the Law. Their calculated silence moves Jesus and he heals the man as an act of defiance against the Pharisees’ cold hearts, as a sign against their failure of holiness. Their refusal to do good is motivated by fear, jealousy, political expediency, and spite. They are not acting out of an unbiased assessment of the Law and its application. They are playing Gotcha! with the Lord and this absolute failure of charity and mercy angers the Lord and grieves him deeply.

Jesus says to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” The man does and he is healed. Jesus is angry and mourning that the hearts of the Pharisees cannot be moved to compassion, cannot be set afire by another’s need. They are dead because they will not stretch out their hands. They will not be healed in their silence.

Our own hard-heartedness is not so difficult to imagine. That stone-cold, merciless attitude is one sin away, just one refusal of compassion away. We starve our filial relationship with the Father when we look away from need, when we work at justifying our unjust acts with the letter of the Law. Any habit of the heart that freezes out the sick, the hungry, the lost necessarily freezes out our Lord and kills the hope in us that keeps the promise of eternal life alive.

The Good News is that we are given all the means we need to keep our hearts alive in the Lord, awake to the needs of others, beating in time to the life of holiness, and squarely centered in the will of the Father. We are tempted by the glory of Christ to live with him forever. And to live with him now is to live mercy, to live compassion, and to live with a heart of flesh.

When your chance comes, stretch out your hand. To heal and be healed: stretch out your hand!

The Art of the Homily

What is the “art of the homily”? My recent post on the “Mechanics of the Homily” lead some to ask me to share my thoughts on the art of writing a homily. Here are some very practical considerations drawn from my short experience preaching on a weekly basis:

1). Use the lectionary texts. The arguments/theses of my homilies are limited by the lectionary texts in front of me. What’s the alternative? The newspaper? CNN? A recent visit to the therapist? I preach the Gospel—the gospel text. I preach the epistle—the epistle text. What do I mean by “use the lectionary texts”? At the very minimum, I mean use the language, imagery, ideas, etc. from the actual texts. Pick up the image of the blind man raising his eyes to be smeared with spit and dirt (and yes, say “spit and dirt”!). Pick up the image of the Simon and James and Andrew throwing down their nets to follow Jesus. Pick up the cadences of the biblical language. Look at the repetition of vowel sounds. Watch the way Paul builds an argument with rhetorical flourish, layering one idea on top of another until the fullest possible picture of his teaching is compete. That’s not teaching…it’s proclamation! He’s not being pedantic, but rhetorical; that is, he’s not being a classroom Teacher so much as he is being a Preacher. Here’s an example of what I mean:

From today’s reading in Mark: “[The healed leper] spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly. He remained outside in deserted places, and people kept coming to him from everywhere.”

Pick up on “spread,” “abroad,” “impossible,” openly,” “remained outside,” “deserted places,” and “everywhere.” Two movements of note here: 1) the healed leper’s faithful spreading of the Good News against Jesus’ express command to be silent, and 2) Jesus’ captivity to the crowd, the mass of people who have the freedom to come to him.

My “use” of this short passage: “Jesus does what he came to do: to heal the sick, to witness to his Father’s love and mercy. The healed leper, overcome with joy in his newfound cleanliness, disobeys Jesus’ command to remain silent and spreads the Good News. He spreads the news, sends it abroad, talks openly about his moments with Jesus. And the crowd listens to this Word proclaimed—healing for the sick, cleanliness for the unclean. They drive Jesus into the deserted places with their desire for his healing, with their longing for his wholeness.”

Nothing particularly profound here at all. Just a re-telling of the short lectionary passage. However, this is how the readings get repeated in the homily so that the language and images are heard again.

2). Don’t avoid complexity, controversy, or the “hard sayings.” I don’t assume that the folks in the pews are dummies incapable of digesting a complex idea or dealing with a controversial topic. I preach against sin. And do so without sugarcoating it. God’s mercy is bigger than any fear we might have of those who will wag their fingers at us for daring to mention Hell from the pulpit. I preach against specific sins. We all sin. And we all commit specific sins. God’s mercy is universal and free. Say so! Call sin sin and shout about God’s mercy. Avoiding talk of specific sins is just a way to keep the peace at the cost of the truth. I’m not suggesting that anyone go out and punch folks out with belligerent homilies on the Evil of the Day. However, preachers of the gospel MUST teach and preach what Jesus taught and preached. What else is there to teach and preach?

3). Prefer the Oral to the Written. Uh? OK. Here’s what I mean: homilies are oral performances. I don’t mean theatrical performances, but they are works enacted, works given life in their portrayal. If you write your homily and then perform it as a written piece, then you are inviting comparisons to an academic lecture. This happens to me a lot because I use a prepared text. It’s something I have to work on. Writing oral English requires that you “hear” your homily being preached aloud as you write. Take for example this opening line to an Easter homily:

“This morning the universal Church celebrates the resurrection of the Lord.”

OK. True enough. Nothing theologically dodgy, but I’m snoozing already. Here’s my version in oral form:

“He is risen! In Irving, Texas and Bangladesh. In Cairo and London. In Capetown and Maui-maui. He is risen indeed! He is risen to new life! In Jackson, MS and Miami, FL. On the riverias of France and the tundras of Russia! Our Lord is alive again!”

How are these two different? They say basically the same thing: Jesus is risen from the dead and all the world celebrates this fact on Easter morning. The difference is that the first opening paragraph is a description and the second is a proclamation. The first tells us what is going on and the second IS what’s going on. Another substantial difference is that the first is a general description and the second is a specific proclamation. The first says “universal Church”—an abstraction—and the second says “London, Maui-maui, Jackson, and Russia”—all very specific places. The difference in oral impact is dramatic.

4). Use a combination of short, declarative sentences and longer, complex sentences. This combo helps me to introduce a Big Idea and then reinforce it with repetition. The oral form requires repetition for comprehension and retention. An example:

“Mary, pregnant with Jesus, visits Elizabeth, pregnant with John, and John leaps in his mother’s womb at Mary’s approach, preparing himself now for his ministry later. He knows Jesus. He knows Jesus is the One Anointed. And he leaps. He leaps again and again in joy, telling the world of the coming of the Christ.”

The shorter sentences are repetitions of the longer one. The frequent, creative repetition of the main idea is a sure-fire way to etch the image/language into the memories of those listening.

5). Questions are good…if you answer them. Using rhetorical questions for affect is dubious at best. I mean, ending a homily with something like: “What would you do if given the chance to heal the sick”? I almost always think of this as a cheapy way to end a homily. It’s safe, easy, noncommittal, and, frankly, dishonest. How so? If the homily is about making the Word present to those listening, then it must look and sound like the Word, like Jesus, like Scripture. Rhetorical questions are gimmicky in that they seem to ask a real question but really just serve as a stopping point or pretend at being intellectual exercises. In fact, they can be escape routes for chicken preachers. Start with questions and answer them. The folks in the pews are smart enough to figure out that our answers are either dumb beyond reckoning or right on target. The right question asked of a difficult text can open multiple doors and shine a vigorous light on scripture. But you have to think that scripture is actually the Word of God and that your homily is a door to that Word.

6). Use theological language but temper it with appositive repetition. I think preachers fear using theological language because those listening will label them pretentious or academic or both. There’s nothing obviously wrong with using the historical language of the Church to talk about the truths of the faith. I use “Incarnation,” “redemption,” “grace,” etc. all the time. You might object and say that I preach at a Catholic university parish and you would be right! However, the way to use theological language productively is to follow each use with an appositive repetition; that is, every time you use a theological term, follow it immediately with a more scriptural or mundane appositive that develops its meaning for those listening.

Some examples:

"The Trinity, the community of divine persons that is our One God, reveals to us Who God is to us and for us."

"Christmas is the celebration of the Incarnation of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, the coming into flesh of the Son, his arrival among us as a man."

"This sacrifice of the Mass, this surrendering to God in thanksgiving, is our greatest praise, our highest oblation."

Now, obviously, you can’t capture every nuance of a complex theological term in a single appositive, but I think you can do a lot of good teaching in a small space.

7). Religiously use a thesaurus. Preachers, like everyone else, are creatures of habit when it comes to language. We have our favorite phrases, our favorite themes, and our favorite images. And we use them over and over. This can become a problem over time because language use not only reveals patterns of thinking, it can begin to limit patterns of thinking as well. I mean, if you stick to certain kinds of words, certain discursive rhetorics (e.g., psychology-inspired terms or military-inspired images) then your understanding of scripture slowly shrinks to the basest limits of your preferred vocabulary. The thesaurus is the most immediate remedy to this problem. Using the thesaurus is a kind of “language-play,” but well worth the effort when it jogs us out of stagnant familiarity. Here’s what I do: I write a sentence and immediately notice commonly used words (e.g. “grace”). I grab my thesaurus or use the one on my word processing program to search for alternatives. The top six alternatives for “grace” are: elegance, refinement, loveliness, polish, beauty, and poise. OK. None of these will serve as a substitute for the theological concept of “grace.” However, each one could be used to describe God’s attitude toward us as sinners or used to describe what grace does for us.

Examples: “God’s grace, His elegant invitation to live His life with him, polishes the human soul, refines our path to His beauty, and grants us a final loveliness, the last gift of seeing Him face-to-face.”

A more direct use of the thesaurus…

Original: "We gather here this morning to see and hear the Gospel proclaim and preached, to offer our prayers and thanksgivings to God, and to celebrate the sacrament of our redemption."

Thesaurus: "We draw closer together at daybreak to glimpse the Gospel, to take heed of its declaration and its preaching, to tender our petitions and gratitude to God, and to make merry in the sacrament of our deliverance."

Now, I wouldn’t use the Thesaurus Version in a homily. I just went through and replaced key words with “thesaurus words.” But I think you can see how this exercise offers up some insight into making that opening paragraph more interesting. I like “draw closer together” (“gather” is one of our most overused words. I would argue that it has almost become meaningless), “daybreak,” “take heed” (yes, a bit old-fashioned, but just odd enough to require one’s attention), and “make merry” (“celebrate” has become stale, overused), and I really like “deliverance” instead of “redemption.” That’s my Baptist coming out.

8). Read good literature. There’s no substitute for reading good poetry and fiction for developing a sense of how a sentence works or how an image conveys meaning. I would go so far as to say, “Lose the homily helps and spend that money on a couple of good poetry anthologies and a few prize-winning novels!”

What I haven’t covered here is the process of reading and prayer that goes into a homily. As a Dominican, my community life and my study are inextricably bound up together in the composition of a homily. If there’s interest, I’d be happy to share some thoughts on the how prayer and study fit into the art of the homily.

Comments?

A new authority...

First Week OT (Tues): I Sam 1.9-20; Mark 1.21-29
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St Albert the Great Priory


Why would any of us think that it is a good thing to follow this Jesus? Why do we call on his name to settle disputes? Why do we think to pray in his name? Why do we give credibility to his teachings and tell others about his ministry? What is it about him that calls to mind authenticity, power, and instills in us a sense of assuredness and calm? He is a ratty carpenter. A wandering teacher of the Law, someone who roams around with a band of working-class grunts teaching what can only be described as hippyish Jewish apocalypticism and self-deluded narcissism! He casts out demons, heals the blind and lame, creates food from thin air, walks on water, and claims to be the Son of God, the Messiah promised by the Prophets. Why would any of us think to follow this guy?

Because we know what the unclean spirits know: Jesus is the Holy One of God! What we read in the Word, what we assent to in our hearts and minds, what we call upon to live holy lives in Christ is the authority of the Holy One of God. Authority is what we sense when we read and pray scripture. Authority is what reaches out and grabs us by the brains when we study the Tradition of the faith. Authority is what settles electrically into our hearts and beats along in time, giving pace to every breath we draw, every step we take—the cadence by which we are seduced into holiness, lured like fish to the nets and caught in the weightiness of his love, his mercy. “All were amazed and asked one another, ‘What is this? A new teaching with authority.’”

So, what is this authority that commands our trust? Authority is the possession of the power, the ability to create, to author, to bring out of nothing, something. Authority is the freedom to confirm, to approve, to give authenticity to. It is influence, holding sway and being decisive. Authority is the responsibility to hold accountable, to call to task, and to make right what is wrong. And for us, those of us who live in Christ, authority is the rule of the Author of Life in our hearts and minds, the giving over of control, direction to the Lord of our redemption. It is the license we freely give to God to govern our lives so that we might have the Good we long for, the Good we desperately desire.

Jesus is our authority because we recognize, acknowledge that he is who he says he is. Arguments, evidence, appeals to history and texts might push us along toward the conclusion that Jesus is who he says he is, but we are compelled finally, in the end to bow before the Spirit that moves us, the Spirit of mercy and love that drives us to the beauty of the Father, His Goodness and His Truth. Even the demons know who he is; they know what he will claim about himself, what he will proclaim to others about who he is and what he has come to do! Even those spirits lost to the cleanliness of love and mercy KNOW that Jesus is Lord, that he is the Holy One of God. Is possible that we can come to know differently?

Ours is not a faith of theological propositions, philosophical conclusions, or scientific findings. Of course, we are a church of intellectual power; but, we don’t give ourselves to methodologies, syllogisms, or experiments. We are not baptized into models of research or academic paradigms. We are baptized into Jesus Christ, into his authenticity as the Holy One of God, into his authority to write and re-write our lives in grace, into his freedom to create and re-create us in his image. He is the new teaching; he is the only authority we look to, the only source of life we will ever need.

The Son is life...

Christmas Weekday 6: I John 5.5-13 and Mark 1.7-11
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
Church of the Incarnation: Serra Club

We are given eternal life. Given eternal life in Christ.

The prophetic witness of John the Baptist is done. His job as herald is over. Now he plunges the Lord in the River Jordan and stands back. He steps back for the Messiah. Coming out of the water of the Jordan, Jesus the man is revealed by God to be His Son, the Christ. Having waited for, longed for, the arrival of His Anointed One, heard of his imminent arrival, his salvific ministry, anticipated the miraculous works of his hands and the revelations of his wisdom—finally, the Christ is revealed!

Promised by the prophets, preached by the temple priests, and announced by the Baptist, Christ is washed in the water of baptism, anointed by the Holy Spirit, and commissioned, charged by his Father to be His beloved Son, the One Who will suffer, die, and rise again for our sakes. His is an office, a role, a part to play, but his is also a ministry, a vocation, and a destiny. His work among us and for us is the preaching of the Good News, the revelation that we do not have to live apart from God, we are not condemned to be forever separated from our Father. And to be clear: the Christ is not just a man who preaches a message. He is the message. The message of salvation to us is a person, not an idea, not an ideology, not a mystical system, or a religious routine but a Person, the Person of God Himself for us.

Ask the question this way: what precisely is revealed at Jesus’ baptism? Look at the narrative and you will read that the revelation is made to Jesus directly not to those in attendance. Coming out of the water, he saw the heavens torn open and the voice from heaven spoke to him: “You are my beloved Son…” Of course, we read this revelation now and know that Jesus is the Christ, but the revelation itself then was to Jesus, not those watching, not us.

This is significant because we are called to a faith rooted in witness first; that is, we are asked by God to believe the power and truth of His revelation of the Christ not by reason of direct, personal experience but by witness, by the telling of the revelation to us by others. And this was possible back then only after Jesus reveals himself through his public ministry. It is possible for us now because we have the scriptural and apostolic testimony, whole and entire, standing witness to us. And that witness is that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, given to us, for us, so that we might have eternal life in him.

In his letter this morning, John couldn’t be clearer: “Now the testimony of God is this, that he has testified on behalf of his Son. Whoever believes in the Son of God has this testimony within himself…” We are called upon to believe in the Son Himself, to trust, to have faith in the Christ revealed to us by the Father, and to live as testimonies ourselves, to have in us, whole and entire, the deposit of faith that is Jesus Christ. We dwell in the Spirit, being daily in the presence of God, “God gave us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. Whoever possesses the Son has life; whoever does not possess the Son of God does not have life.”

To live as testimony, to be a revelation of Christ, a witness to his gift of eternal life is to be like Christ, to be holy as he is holy, righteous as he is righteous—obedient to the Father, generous in sacrifice, merciful in judgment, resistant to temptation, hopeful and not despairing, faultlessly forgiving of sin, grounded in prayer, and always, always willing to speak the truth in love.

Who indeed is the victor over the world but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?

But does it matter?

Christmas Weekday 3: I John 2.29-3.6, John 1.29-34
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St. Albert the Great Priory, Irving, TX

He is here! The true Light that enlightens everyone, the Word made flesh, our life of grace and truth. He is Lamb of God, Spirit Come Down, Son of the Father. He takes away the sin of the world. And he is here! After so long a wait, so long in anticipation, he is here among us, a child, a man, a victim, God. Finally, he is here.

And why could that possibly matter?

John the Baptist witnesses the arrival of Christ with this ground shaking truth: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Look! There he is: the One who will reconcile creation to the Creator, the One who will bring us back to the Father in love, the One who will dwell in Spirit with us always. John is announcing the historical healing of the wound that alienates us from our God, the breach that feeds and encourages our lawlessness, that makes us rebellious, hard-hearted, and mean. Separated from God we are less than we can be, much less than we should be, and nothing like we will be! To be everything that we can be, should be, and will be, we must wait for God, resting eagerly in anticipation of His arrival. We have. Now he is here! “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”

And here is the truth of the Incarnation, the Christmas Event: Christ became flesh then so that we might become Christ now. In his letter, John, writes: “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed.” Right now we know that we are God’s children, but what we will become hasn’t been shown to us yet. Whatever we become it starts with being children of the Father. He continues: “We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” This is our redemption! We shall be like him and see him as he is. That we were not like him and could not see him as he is was the result of “the sin of the world,” the yawning chasm between Creator and creation that only the Creator could close.

“See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.” The chasm is closed, bridged, healed and we are children of God now, heirs to His kingdom, prophets of His Word, priests of His Temple. We are Christs, like him, through him, with him, in him—forgiving, healing, preaching, teaching, making peace, hoping, loving, and sacrificing.

Christ became flesh then so that we might become Christ now. He becomes flesh now at this sacrifice so that we might become Christ now. To eat his Body and drink his Blood, to take into ourselves everything that he is for to us and for us, to become his flesh as he become ours—this is our redemption, this is why his coming matters, why his Incarnation makes a difference.

A witness must know that which he testifies about. John knew Christ b/c the Spirit revealed him. We know Christ b/c of John’s witness, the witness of the apostles and the continuing Church, and b/c we are children of God, given the Bread of Life, the Cup of Salvation. If any of this is to matter, if any of it is make a difference, it must be made known, proclaimed, heralded, preached aloud in word and deed. We cannot be quiet, deeply private, merely devotional Christs, praying in the desert! The Word is spoken. It is done. Made real for the world. Given flesh for us, for all.

We are the most faithful children of the Father, the brothers and sisters of Christ, when, in righteousness, we live our lives as witnesses to the destruction of sin, as living signs that we are no longer slaves to sin. That’s the difference. That’s why any of this matters.

Mechanics of a homily...

Several readers have written asking me to explain what a “homily” is, meaning, I think, that they want to know what a homily is supposed to do in the liturgy. I’ve directed them to relevant church documents, etc. but I think the question deserves a more direct answer. In the comment boxes on Jimmy Akin's site I listed off a few things that parishioners could look/listen for in a homily so that they could give Father constructive feedback. I made a dramatic plea for the Catholic faithful to hold priests to high standards of preaching. The bottomline is quite simple: if you don’t care about the quality of the homily, Father isn’t going to spend much of his rapidly dwindling time on quality preparation. He needs to know that you think it’s a priority!

Q: What is a homily?

A: Let’s start with what it ISN'T…

* several stories of dubious humor strung together with a “moral” tacked on

* a pep talk, an appeal for money, an update on parish construction, or a book review

* a report on Father’s last visit to his shrink/therapist/spiritual director

* a stump speech, a rousing call to political arms, a psychology/sociology lecture

* an academic essay on Things Theological-Philosophical-Scriptural

* a love-letter to big money donors

* 8-15 unscripted minutes of the Mass where Father gets to show the crowd what a great guy he is by blowing off the homily!

…so, what IS a homily?

* a liturgical device of Speaking the Word, giving the Word of God voice for today

* authentic, authoritative instruction in the living faith of the Church

* an exhortation to communal and personal holiness, encouragement in the face of despair

* an “unpacking” of the readings in a way that addresses real problems of faith

* a liturgical device for raising questions, suggesting answers, stirring up trouble, getting into fights

Q: How is a homily prepared/written?

A: Every preacher is different, of course. I can give you a brief outline of how I do it:

I read the lectionary readings about a week ahead of time to see what strikes me. I usually mumble to myself about how dull the reading is or how I’ll never squeeze anything out of THAT text or how we just had that reading two weeks ago, etc. Then I will read it again a few days later—having forgotten it by then—and something will strike me as odd/weird/brilliant/curious. I will grab a commentary to check on any cultural references or historical oddities, and then I will begin to pose a question or a problem to tackle. I will locate the readings in a Bible (I own five different English translations!) and look at “where” the readings are in the larger narrative. This almost always gives me something to work with in the homily. All this time, I am praying for inspiration, for insight. I don’t write a word of my homily until the morning of the day it is to be preached. I am a morning person, so I’m up at 4:30am, coffee in hand, ready to roll! Weekday homilies are 550-650 words, Sunday homilies are twice that.

What’s basic, I think, to any good homily is an application of the readings to real, contemporary problems. I don’t mean to suggest that the homily needs to be a “fix-it” talk where the priest gives the assembly quick and easy DIY solutions to complex problems; however, the homily can be a great way for the preacher to raise issues, questions, problems that are common to his parish/ministry and show how the readings and the tradition might help to address them. This means, of course, that a good preacher is listening, listening, listening to what’s troubling God’s faithful.

I always try to do the following in every homily…

* preach the gospel in front of me, not the gospel I think the congregation wants to hear, or the gospel that will get me the fewest complaints, or the gospel that will get me the most compliments!

* include a humorous story if there’s one that’s truly relevant (I’m a Southerner born and bred, so I exaggerate like I breath—loudly and on a regular basis.)

* use an image, a phrase, or a line from ALL four readings; the Psalms, sadly, often get shortchanged

* preaching is an oral form, so I write for oral presentation: lots repetition, alliteration, “unpacking,” and frequent use of language from the readings, the liturgy of the day, and the tradition

* say something truly challenging and maybe even unnerving! (I’m a Dominican, so I am not particularly inclined to spoon feed folks religious pabulum or feel-good psychobabble just to keep things sweet.)

* I am downright tenacious about preaching the following: a) the universal call to holiness; b). our salvation understood as our divinization; c) our salvation as an undeserved, unmerited, totally FREE gimme from God; d) our responsibilities to the Body of Christ as members of the Body of the Christ; e) the need for true humility before the authority of the Church to teach the authentic faith; f) the absolutely indispensable necessity of a powerful private and common prayer life (cf. CCC Part IV), and g) our responsibilities in revealing Truth, Goodness, and Beauty to one another!

Q: What needs work?

A: I read my homilies from prepared texts. This will never change. It can’t. I am tied to language as a writer, a poet, an English teacher, etc. I just can’t let go of the text and preach “off the cuff.” I will ramble, jabber on for an hour, wander around until someone chunks a hymnal at me. I need to practice more so I can be more engaging with the assembly and not so glued to the paper. I’ve been told that I talk too fast—and I’m a Southerner! And that my homilies are too complex for just listening, thus the blog site for those who want to read them. I’m always wrong about my homilies too—just about every time I think I’ve preached a real dud, I get lots of great feedback. And when I think I’ve preached a real winner—nothing, nada, crickets chirping. Oh well.

Comments? Comments from other preachers particularly welcomed!!

Mary's hymn, her homily...

4thWeek of Advent (Thurs): I Sam 1.24-28; Luke 1.46-56
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St. Albert the Great Priory, Irving, TX


Herald, immaculate vessel, handmaid, most blessed among women, bearer of the Word, preacher of God’s grace, Mother of our salvation! At the invitation and assurance of the angel, Gabriel, Mary submits herself to the work of the Lord in her and becomes her Son’s first disciple, the first preacher of the gospel.

Our Blessed Mother preaches with a hymn of praise while visiting the mother of John the Baptist. Elizabeth tells Mary that her child, John, leapt in her womb at the sound of Mary’s voice, and Elizabeth blesses Mary. Both Mary and Elizabeth are blessed because the Lord took their trust and made them wondrous signs of His power and favor. Elizabeth, barren with age, and Mary, a virgin, are both pregnant—one with the herald of the Christ and the other with the Christ Himself.

Mary’s hymn of praise, her homily of thanksgiving to the Lord is more than a pious exaltation, more than an explosion of devotional feeling. Mary’s hymn, her homily is a potent witness, an authoritative proclamation of Who the Lord Is for us, Who the Lord Will Be for us always. Mary’s witness is not just about the miracle of her virginal womb giving life to the Christ Child; her witness is about the constant presence and work of God in His creation from Day One, about the enduring love and forgiveness He has shown His people since their creation. Mary’s hymn, her homily is a sung testament to all those moments in human history where the Lord has put His hand into events and shaped them, put His hand into our time for our benefit—to call us back, to call us forward, to call us away from rebellion, despair, anxiety, sin.

Mary’s hymn, her homily is a sung record of salvation history, more than just a recitation of events, it is a lyric, a poem to the unfolding plan of God for us—one moment in a particular time to reveal all time to us. Mary reveals a divine attitude, a divine vision for all creation, all human life. Her intimate contact with the Spirit of the Lord has exalted her soul, magnified her spirit—enlarged, expanded, widened, made great her understanding of His plan. He is mercy, strength, justice, abundance. He is merciful, strong, just, generous. He wipes away our sins, defends the weak against the strong, balances debt and forgiveness, distributes freely everything that is good, holy, true, and beautiful. Our Lord is All: all we need, all we want; everything we have or can be is His. With gratitude we will lay claim to His legacy for us, and we will flourish in the blessings that flow from our humility.

Advent is a season of promises, made and fulfilled. The promise of the coming of the Lord: the promise made to Abraham and the promise fulfilled in Jesus of Nazareth. Mary took the word of an angel that her virginal womb would bear a son, the Savior promised by the Prophets. Elizabeth, barren in her old age, also believed a promise and gave the world Christ’s herald. These last few days of Advent are days of promise, the expectation—the sure knowledge—that our Father will be with us, Emmanuel, Mighty God, Merciful King. At the fulfillment of His promise, we can sing with our Blessed Mother: “Our souls proclaim the greatness of the Lord; our spirits rejoice in God our savior!”

Greet our Savior in his mother’s womb, in his manger, on the mountain, in the desert, greet him on the sorrowful way, on the cross, greet him and thank him for keeping his advent promise, his promise of mercy. Then, then we are mighty witnesses, authoritative testaments to the power and favor of our God in our lives. Sing your witness! Don’t whisper. Proclaim your promise! Don’t mutter.

Make known the mercy God has done for you.

Make him flesh and bone...

4th Week of Advent (Tues): Is 7.10-14; Luke 1.26-38
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St. Albert the Great Priory, Irving, TX


How will you (we) announce the arrival of the Lord to the world?


John the Baptist is the ardent herald of the Christ Child’s coming. Gabriel, sent by God to Mary, announces the presence of the Lord. And Mary, her troubled spirit settled by the prophetic words of the angel, becomes the gospel’s first preacher, her Son’s first disciple.


John heralds the Lord’s advent. Gabriel proclaims His presence. And Mary brings him into flesh. John comes before, out of the desert waste, to wash the willing hearers of his words clean with water baptism. Gabriel, dispatched by God to Nazareth, comes to Mary, a virgin, with a frightful greeting: “The Lord is with you.” And Mary, made anxious by the angelic greeting, questions the Lord’s messenger, hears his word, and comes to the Lord accepting of her purpose, given over wholly to His plan. John heralds his coming. Gabriel proclaims his arrival. Mary gives him flesh and bone.


How will you (we) announce the arrival of the Lord to the world?


The Annunciation in Luke’s gospel is a moment of historic convergence. Look at the characters in this drama: God Himself, the Archangel Gabriel, King David, Joseph, Mary, Elizabeth, and John the Baptist. Look at the action: Mary’s humble acceptance of the announcement of her motherhood and the Incarnation of the Son of God, his arrival in the flesh among us. Look at the consequences: the salvation of all creation, the commencement of our graced lives toward holiness, toward perfection in Him.


This is the beginning of our end.


Not our demise. But our purpose, our goal, the last moment we are enslaved by sin. At Mary’s yes, we are freed. Mary preaches, “May it be done to me according to your word.” And it was. And now we rejoice and give thanks to our Mother for her generosity, her humility, and her last sacrifice.


How will you (we) announce the arrival of the Lord to the world? John heralds the Lord. Gabriel proclaims his presence. Mary gives him flesh.

If we will herald the arrival of the Lord, we will not run from the hard moments of witness, those difficult times when speaking about Christ to others puts us clearly on the outside. We will firmly, boldly, even dramatically herald the Lord’s coming against any and all opposition, never bending to political or cultural expediency, and never counting the costs of speaking his word.


If we will proclaim the presence of the Lord, we will live now our eternal lives yet to come; we will live the perfection we are promised, fully aware of our failings and celebrating God’s rich mercy. We will be messengers of the Spirit, vehicles of the Lord’s gifts, the media of grace. And we will exude trust in the Lord, outshining every anxiety, every fear.


If we will give flesh and bone to the Lord, we will become Christ for others. We will take seriously our progress in holiness, our growth into the divine, preaching and teaching what Christ preached and taught. We will say to God, “May it done to me according to your word” and we will become that Word, spoken and made flesh, preached aloud and taught in action.


Herald his coming. Proclaim his presence. Make him flesh and bone. Giving yourself wholly to His Word.

One Name and no other...

Memorial of St. John of the Cross: Is 45.6-8, 21-25; Luke 7.18-23
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St. Albert the Great Priory & The Church of the Incarnation


I am the Lord and there is no other. There is one name to call out in our distress. There is one name to call out in praise and thanksgiving. Just one name to lift up, to hold up before the world; one name to clear the way, to straighten the path, and one name to heal the sick, to bring justice to the oppressed; and one name to proclaim as the Good News of the kingdom. One. Just one. And no other.


John the Baptist sends his students to find out from Jesus if he is the “one who is to come.” What John is expecting from the Messiah is something like an apocalyptic rescue for the people of God, a fiery reformation of the nation and temple. Rotting away in prison, John is longing for the righteous justice of his Lord, an angry war against the oppression of foreign invaders and their domestic collaborators. His life has been the proclamation of the coming of the Lord and the preaching of a baptism of repentance, a baptism in water to turn away from sin, away from injustice toward the Lord. John’s has been a lone voice, a single voice crying out the name of the Lord, and now he wants to know from the lips of Jesus himself, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”


Jesus tells John’s disciples to go back to John and witness to him what they have seen. No battles, no fiery rescues, no lightning strikes from heaven, no plagues thrown at the enemy—just restoration, correction, healing, and the unwavering proclamation of the Good News of the Lord’s freely offered salvation. Jesus’ public witness is the restoration of what has been corrupted, the correction of what has gone awry, the healing of the diseased back to trust, and his own declaration of his mission as the One Anointed.


On the prophetic tongue of Isaiah, the Lord places His own testimony to Who He Is for us and to us. He is the creator of the light and the darkness, of well-being and woe. He is the designer of heaven and earth, the author of justice and our salvation. He is the Creator of all that is—everything we need, everything we are! He is God and there is no other.


This is the time, these few weeks before the feast of Christmas, to lift up to the Lord everything we have, everything we are. To hold up before Him our blindness, our sufferings, our diseases, all the evil spirits we fight; to hold before Him our doubts, our anxieties, our injustices, all those times we have turned a deaf ear to His Word. This is the time we look for the One Who Is To Come and no other—no other god, no other lord, no other power, nothing else at all to be our health and our salvation.


From the prophetic tongue of Isaiah to the heralding witness of John the Baptist, the hope, the true expectation of the coming of the Lord has been announced and the Good News told again and again. The Lord has come. The Lord is coming. Blessed are they who come in the name of the Lord. And blessed is the one who takes no offense. Wait, wait, wait. And wait. Trembling at the coming of the Lord.

Invincible ignorance...

St. Lucy, Virgin and Martyr: Zeph 3.1-2, 9-13; Matt 21.28-32
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
St. Albert the Great Priory


What do we refuse to believe?


“I gotta go see a man about a dog.” Dr. Flynn would say this to any of us who refused to see the plain logic of his arguments in class. Most of us in his classes suffered from a terrible affliction, a disease that deludes one into believing that one is as smart as Aristotle after having passed just one philosophy classes. We all suffered from SPMS—Sophomore Philosophy Major Syndrome. Like dieting vultures, we’d circle his evidence, pick at his premises, and bicker over the scrapes of his conclusions, searching desperately for the single mistake that would vindicate our deeply suspicious yet oh-so-shallow minds. Finally, frustrated beyond reason, Dr. Flynn would bark at us: “I gotta go see a man about a dog!” Once again, we had demonstrated the most telling symptom of SPMS: invincible ignorance, an unbeatable lack of knowing, a willful stupidity.


Jesus is having a similar problem with the chief priests and elders. Obviously frustrated to his limit with their suspicion, their opposition, Jesus puts to them a question about the difference between agreeing to the Father’s will and actually doing the Father’s will. Jesus asks the priests and elders, “Which one did his father’s will?” The one who refuses to work but does so anyway or the one who agrees to work but doesn’t? They answer, “The first.” Correct! How obvious. How utterly plainly true. And so, Jesus congratulates them on their correct answer, right? Nope. He blasts them: “…tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you…” They will not believe.


The problem with the chief priests and the elders is that they have all the evidence in front of them: the Law, the Prophets, the witness of John the Baptist, Jesus’ preaching, teaching, and his miracles, the witness of hundreds of people who have followed him and still, still they refuse to believe. They refuse to suspend their disbelief long enough to allow the Spirit to work on their hearts and minds. Why? Social status, religious power, fear of public humiliation, investment in an ideology, all of the above? Probably. Invincible ignorance? Most definitely. They simply refuse to be enlightened by God’s grace, refuse to believe that they were standing in the presence of their Lord.


We’re all here this morning, so we’re obviously not completely invincibly ignorant! But what is it we’re not convinced of? What lingers to poison the well of our faith? We have the Big Issues covered: God exists. Jesus is the Messiah. Trinity. Passion-Death-Resurrection. Got all that. So, what, what is it? Are you convinced of the truth of your freely given salvation? The futility of trying to earn God’s love, His grace? Are you convinced of the truth of forgiveness, God’s mercy? The necessity of loving one another? Are you convinced of the need to humble yourself, truly practice your dependency on God for everything? The efficacy of prayer? The need for prayer? Are you convinced of the authority of the Church to define the faith? That you will live with God forever if you believe and do His will?


Tax collectors and prostitutes believed him. Some believed him deeply enough to give their lives in witness to his love. St. Lucy bled for him not because his logical syllogisms were neatly ordered and argued. She bled because she believed. She didn’t wait for proof. Her belief made sense of everything. Perfect, loving sense.

Change your minds! And believe him!

Rejoice! Pray! And wait...

3rd Sunday of Advent (2005): Is 61.1-2, 10-11; I Thes 5. 16-24; John 1.6-8, 19-28
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP
Church of the Incarnation, University of Dallas


Rejoice always and pray without ceasing! On this Rejoicing Sunday: are you joyful? Do you delight in the Lord?


“I give up! Go ahead!! Put out the plastic Santas and put on the Perry Como Christmas CD! I guess we’ll be putting out the Easter bunnies and the marshmallow chicks half-way through Lent next year too!”


No doubt you, like me, are exhausted from resisting the pressure to launch into the coming feast of Christmas. You’re tired from arguing with roommates, friends, family about when to put up the tree, when to play those catchy little carols about snow and reindeer and jingly bells.


The other friars at the priory and the student workers in Campus Ministry call me the Advent Nazi b/c I resist the predictable encroachment of Christmas into our Advent season. We have four weeks to wait, four weeks to walk that thin line between the promise of salvation and His coming. We have four weeks to sharpen our sense of anticipation, our sense of hunger for the Lord before He arrives. Jumping ahead is cheating; it spoils the delight of Christmas by peaking the season too early. Arriving at the Christmas feast bloated from stuffing ourselves during Advent is not only sad but sorely lacking in gratitude!


This is why, in an earlier time in the Church when Advent was celebrated as a truly penitential season, the Third Sunday, Gaudete Sunday, was a sort of release valve, a kind of moment of reprieve from Winter’s Lent when the anticipated joy of Christmas was let loose for a solemn celebration, just one day of rejoicing to better sweeten the wait for His coming. This Sunday picked out the joy of our wait, the delight in our slow progress toward salvation and holiness.


And so, on this Rejoicing Sunday, I ask you: are you joyful? Do you truly delight in the Lord?


John the Baptist is pelted with questions from the priests and Levites sent to pester him from Jerusalem. They want to know who he is, what he is, exactly who does he claim to be. They want to know what he has to say for himself so that they can report back to their superiors. He denies being a prophet. He denies being Elijah for whom the Jews still wait to return. He denies being the Christ. And says simply, “I am the voice of one crying in the desert, ‘make straight the way of the Lord,’ as Isaiah the prophet said.” And then he tells the Pharisees that he comes before one whose sandal he is not worthy to untie.


John is one who walks before, announcing in his life and with his voice the arrival of the Lord, and trumpets the advent of Christ, heralds the coming of the world’s salvation and rejoices in the Word made flesh. He is Joy in filthy sackcloth, joy with matted hair and locust wings stuck in his teeth. He is Joy with honey-sticky whiskers and unceasing prayer on his aromatic breath. Without pride or ambition for exaltation, John steps up and walks ahead, witnessing for the Lord his arrival, washing clean of sin anyone who comes forward to submit themselves to the long wait for paradise, the lengthy road to perfection. John delights now as he did when he leapt in his mother’s womb when his mother met Christ’s mother. He delights in being the one to show the way, the one to ring out the good news, the one to see the Lord first and point to him as Savior, King. John is joy, and he delights in Christ his Savior.


Are you joyful? Do you delight in the Lord? I do not ask this lightly. All of us are here this evening because we have responded to the prompting of the Holy Spirit to worship the Lord in spirit and truth, to offer Him praise and thanksgiving, to hear His Word proclaimed and preached, and to celebrate the sacrament of our salvation in the sacrifice of the altar. Whatever push, pull, lure, divine seduction or bribe got you here, you’re here, and I want you to ask yourself: Am I joyful? Do I delight in the Lord?


I’m not asking you if you’re giddy-happy all the time. I’m not asking you if you are a happy-clappy, sugar-sweet, Christian smiley face 24/7. To be joyful is to find final satisfaction, the end of longing, the consummation of desire; it is to live as fully in the Spirit now as is possible short of heaven itself; to live as fully in Christ now as is possible before His coming again. To be joyful as a Christian is to be satiated with the love of God, stuffed to the brim with the peace that surpasses all understanding, wringing wet with the waters of baptism and downright greasy with the oils of anointing. To delight in and to enjoy Christ is to see, hear, taste, feel, smell, think, emote, live through Christ, in Christ, with Christ. To rejoice always and to pray without ceasing!


Paul writes to the Thessalonians, “May the God of peace make you perfectly holy and may you entirely—spirit, soul, and body—be preserved blameless for the coming of our Lord.” God can make us perfectly holy, wholly, completely perfect and preserve us entirely, fully without blame, without guilt while we wait on the coming of the Lord. For this blessing, we need to pray in thanksgiving, in humility, we need to pray the will of God for us. We feed the Spirit, delight our souls, and know better and better what is good and what is evil.


And we need, want to show our joy, witness to our delight out there. Like John, our joy, our delight shines out, attracts, seduces, lures; our joy, our delight raises questions among the doubtful, nurtures worries among the ungodly, and frightens the self-righteous. Our joy in the Lord and our delight in our Savior draws people to God, brings them to His mercy and forgiveness, and shows them the Way to salvation, to Jesus Christ. Our joy, our delight is the word spoken in the wilderness of our world, the shout of glad tidings in the desert of our culture’s deathwish. When we bear witness to the Father’s free offer of healing, of liberty and release, of favor and vindication, we step up as ready voices, eager tongues to proclaim His coming again.


Are you joyful? Do you delight in the Lord? On this Rejoicing Sunday, we are given the quick chance to dip our fingers into the coming Christmas feast and to taste just a bit of what’s coming. Resist the temptation to move too quickly, to gallop to the feast. Rush to repentance, of course. But do not wallow in a morose preoccupation with your sin. Name it! Confess it! Be done with it. And wait and wait and wait, joyful and delighted, filled to the top with the mercy of God, with the blessings of the Spirit. Rejoice always! And pray without ceasing!