Good Friday - 2020

Joh 18:1 – 19:42
Is 52:13 – 53:12
Hebr 4:14-16; 5:7-9

Focus: We have a God who knows our hurts and pains, a God, who carries our burdens
for us, and a God who gives us dignity in the midst of our suffering.

My sisters and brothers, a. Megan, an ER nurse in NYC, rises at 5:15 a.m., and arrives in her Covid-19 unit by seven. She receives the hand-off information from the night shift. She washes down, puts on the yellow gown, shoe covers, hair cover, the face mask, gloves and the eye shield
and sees a first patient who is distraught, coughing uncontrollably. She administers a breathing treatment, along with some pain medication and fluids.She delivers to the patient a message from her family and reassures her that she will get better. She leaves and repeats the process with the next patient. She does this for 12 hours. Then she goes home and thoroughly disinfects before she greets her family. She has some dinner and goes to bed. She rises at 5:15 a.m. and repeats the process,
trying not to be discouraged by those patients who go on ventilators or don’t survive.

Megan also prays for her patients. And she prays for herself and for her colleagues for strength and for the necessary attentiveness to what needs to be done at every moment to keep the virus from spreading further. First responders, nurses like Megan, doctors, and so many others are at the front line in the fight against this virus. Their dedicated and courageous service to those who are suffering during this crisis is indispensable.

Today we commemorate the suffering of Jesus. God’s Son became a human being. Carrying out to the end his mission of making God’s love and mercy visible and tangible especially to the poor,
the hopeless, and the marginalized, he endured rejection and scorn, torture and death.

In today’s first reading from the Prophet Isaiah, composed over 500 years before Christ,we find the concept of substitute suffering. In the Lord’s Suffering Servant, we meet a person, who, guiltless and standing up for what is right,has to endure terrible things And we hear: “He was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins … By his stripes, we were healed.” The early Christians saw Jesus as the one in whom this prophecy fully came true.

Our second reading from the letter to the Hebrews speaks to us explicitly about Christ, the high priest, who offered himself for our eternal salvation. The journey wasn’t easy for him. At Gethsemane, he rebelled against what it entailed. He prayed with loud cries and tears that his cup may be taken away from him. Then, however, he found his YES. God’s gift to him – he was heard – was his readiness to surrender his life.

The Passion account in John’s Gospel reports about Jesus’ trial, his being beaten, scourged and mocked, the crowning with thorns, his carrying of the cross and his crucifixion.

Yet, in the midst of all that is being done to him, Jesus’ royal dignity shines forth: Pilate interrogates Jesus, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus responds, yes, I am a king; however, “my kingdom does not belong to this world.” Jesus comes from a different world, from the divine world,
which Pilate can’t understand, because he only sees the surface. Jesus is the true king who is completely free and rules over himself. The world has no power over him.

Here’s the liberating and healing message of the Passion according to John for us: Because of Christ and because we belong to Christ, each one of us is a king or a queen. In us, there is a dignity, which is not of this world. Therefore, the world has no power over us. The paradox consists in the fact that this dignity becomes visible in the passion: Where we are weak, judged, hurt, and nailed down, we can know: There is a space in us, in you and me, in which nobody can harm us.
Nobody can take my royal dignity away from me.

Dear Sisters and brothers in the faith, We have a God who knows our hurts and pains, a God, who carries our burdens with us and for us, and a God who gives us dignity in the midst of our suffering.

Pope Francis has drawn attention to so many forms of suffering, lately especially also to those caused by the coronavirus. He said this week: “Life is a gift we receive only when we give ourselves away, and our deepest joy comes from saying yes to love, without ifs and buts.
As Jesus did for us. Let us give thanks today for the health care workers like Megan and all who help others, and have to put up with a lot on behalf of others, during this crisis. Let us also intercede for them today, for their safety and for strength.

During the Veneration of the Cross this afternoon, we will bow or kneel down before the Cross, acknowledging that in this sign of disgrace there is the foundation of our hope. As we do so, let us bring our sufferings to Christ, and those of so many people during these days.

And let us ask today for an experience of that divine freedom that allowed Jesus to say: “My kingdom does not belong to this world.” AMEN.

~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB

Palm Sunday - 2020

Isaiah 50:4–7
Philippians 2:6–11
Matthew 26:14–27:66

Western art in particular has not failed to offer us detailed images and pictures of the crucifixion. Nearly every crucifix is in some way an attempt to portray for the beholder something of the suffering of the crucified Lord: an expression of pain in the face, the taut muscles, the thorns on the head and in many cases the ubiquitous blood pouring and dripping. We are left in no doubt of the horrors of what Paul says today “He became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” Why we should be interested in seeing crucifixion vividly portrayed and even acted out is another matter.

What is striking about the Passion story we just heard is that there is nothing of that at all. When the time comes in Matthew’s gospel to speak of the crucifixion, it is mentioned in a subordinate clause. It doesn’t even warrant a main sentence. There is no description of what Jesus’ crucifixion looked like. The evangelist’s interest must lie elsewhere for the whole story is filled with drama. Perhaps Matthew’s community knew too well what a crucifixion looked like and needed no picture or description of this excruciating death. The cross remains central but maybe its meaning is found in what leads up to it and follows it.

The Passion of Jesus doesn’t begin with his being nailed to the wood of the cross. His death has begun long before that. It is not just a horrible physical death that Jesus suffers. Where does the evangelist put his pen to work? We will find its strokes in the story of betrayal. Here money on the table will turn a companion in life into a personal object of gain. A monetary value is place on the person and personal relationships. And to make the point clear, it is not just anyone who betrays but someone who breaks bread with me, someone intimate—a Judas who eats at my table and with whom I have shared my joys and pain. Someone uses the sign of kiss as the final bridge to hand me over. Is that not a death, a killing of intimacy and friendship and for what–money? The betrayer gets a good chunk of the narrative. Why? Because betrayal makes the other a victim that is easily disposed of. Money over people. In this pandemic Pope Francis has already pleaded not to set economics over the sick and dying. Relations among humans is uppermost.

Then there is denial. Peter too gets a lot of the story. It is words that are at stake this time. There is bravado and boasting here. I will never deny you, I will be faithful, even dying for you. But when it comes time to stand by another, I fade into the farthest corner and simply watch another go to their fate. Peter doesn’t say I don’t know him once but three times. The sword of the word has struck deep and the evangelist has let us feel that. Here it is: promised fidelity to the end but the promise is cheap and so denied. A word broken. While the one to whom the promise is made remains faithful to his word to the end. Death of a word of promise, death of a word of fidelity. Jesus is surrounded by broken words, words of a leader he chose. Is this, too, not death in relationships. And where does that leave the Lord? After his chosen leader has said I do not know the man, I do not even know what you are talking about, Jesus is left alone. Now the disciples, the followers, the table companions with whom he has shared his body and blood hours before have left him alone. Jesus is isolated from his human companions. Others will take charge now.

Hanging on the cross, crucified now, he is still hit with words. This time words that mock him. Now his own words and actions are thrown back in his face. He saved others, he trusted in God, God should deliver him. Where is his is relationship with God now? Here is the king and look how powerless he is. What is said in mockery is true in one sense but the words are misunderstood. The words like this could hurt you and I when we are misunderstood, when our identity and message is thrown back in our face. But then slowly it comes to us that the truth of the words is found in that very crucified one. It is the cross and the crucifixion that fill these words with their true meaning.

In these pandemic days when being cut off, being alone feeling isolated is felt by so many, in these days we also hear this story of Jesus Passion. In it we hear how his dying encompassed precisely the death of relationships as well as the pain of physical suffering. If we are honest with what we read and hear, the evangelist devotes considerable energy to the death of relationships, the fracture of words, the misuse of words as part of the death story, as part of the Passion, as part of suffering.

Yet we also see how the death of human relationships only makes the one relationship Jesus has stand out more clearly. Filled with sorrow and distress, he calls out the one name he can and takes his position in that name: Father. In that name he pours out his heart and his sorrow. He pours out his fear of what lies ahead…take this cup from me. But each time, and we hear it three times, he will not give the final word on his life. That he leaves to his Father. He will keep the Father’s word even if it means drinking the cup.

In the midst of the passion and from the cross itself, there is one relationship that remains steadfast for him and he to it: namely Father. The cry from the cross, My God, My God…is not a cry of despair. It is the cry of every person who has come to their limits and only has faith in “My God” left. These are not words thrown to the air. They are words from a pained heart of humanity clinging to the only relationship left, the invisible but real Father. And this is relationship that the foreign, occupying soldiers see and hear in these events of death and so it leads them to declare: “This is God’s son.”

On this Sunday of the Passion heard in our own days when we seem to be at a loss and all is spinning around us, we have a witness in a dying man of where we must turn and to whom we can speak. For the trust we have in Our Father will lead, in his day and time, to something new, something right now beyond our imagining but quite possible. Possible because it will be rooted, as Jesus’ death teaches us, “in his will.” For God’s son, loving faithfulness on both sides led to resurrection. It will for us too when we enter into the Paschal Mystery these days of 2020.
~ Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

A Message from our Prior, Fr. Joel

Scripture is rather reluctant to promote boasting about plans to go here and go there or to do this or do that. It suggests adding a little phrase “If God wishes, we will live and do this or that” (James 4:15). And these days we come face to face with interrupted trips, interrupted meetings and having to stay put. The change of plans has an added dose of anxiety, uncertainty of what is next or what will the next news bulletin will say.

Each night at Compline we monks sing, “Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.” Admittedly, most of the time, most of us just sing the words routinely.
Everything seems to be going well. But now is the time to stand in those words. Placing our lives into the hands of God is one certain thing we can do. We can pray and in praying, practice letting go of what we cannot control and hear what we can do. Putting ourselves in God’s hands means trusting in one greater than I.

The experience of staying at home is not usually difficult for us monks but even now we feel the limits of movement and of people not able to move in our direction. This staying put may be hard for those not used to this. But St. Benedict has some simple suggestions: make up a schedule for the day. Put in it time for prayer, do some work in the place where you are, take time to read, spiritual reading and other literature. Now is the time for doing everyday things mindfully, with a sense that even small things matter. Life is made up of many little necessary things. Work at remembering others, staying in contact and having a meaningful conversation. Going slow and looking carefully at what is around us can be a graced moment. We might discover what we never saw before. We may feel cut off but in our hearts we can know ourselves more connected than ever in our humanity and in our Body of Christ.

We here continue our daily scheduled cycle of prayer in the community. Petitions are added for those suffering from the virus and those who are worried and anxious and you, who know and support us. This cycle helps us to deepen our Lent, join Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, and nurture our faith in a God who as the prophet says “will love us freely” no matter the circumstances.

~Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

Homily - 3rd Sunday of Lent-2020

Fr. Joel Macul, OSB gave the homily for the 3rd Sunday of Lent this morning.

Exodus 17:3–7
Romans 5:1–2, 5–8
John 4:5–42

On this third Sunday of Lent we are dealing with some common themes in our lives: tiredness and complaining or murmuring. On another level it is the theme of being thirsty. If we listen closely to the story of the community in the desert, we hear that they are giving leadership a hard time. They are thirsty and feel they are going to die. Yes, they left Egypt, they got out of slavery but what is happening to them now is worse than the past. Caught in their present needs, the community has forgotten the real meaning of freedom from slavery. It almost sounds as if life in Egypt was better….. In the story, the people grumble, complain to Moses and to God. Take care of us! Give us water! In the story, we hear how God provided water from the impossible. He provided it from the rock, something hard. The Lord God met the demands of the community. But at the same time we get a picture of a community that seems to lack trust in the Lord. Thrown into that is a sense of entitlement, and of wanting something here and now.

What is the source of grumbling? Somehow it is found in a lack of confidence, lack of trust. It is found when we lose sight of our purpose, our being or our goal. When we forget what we are doing here or where our life’s journey is leading us, we tend to look at situations in a negative way. The community of Israel had been crying out for liberation and freedom from oppression. God heard the plea and answered. He sets them free. Now he was to lead them across a desert to the Promised Land, a new home for their being community. Somehow the people were only interested in the moment: Get us out of Egypt. They did not know that freedom had implications. Getting out was only the beginning. Their life was to be a journey through the harshness of an arid wilderness. They would have to continue to trust in the God who loved them enough to set them free. They would have to trust him for the necessities of life, like water.

The community is very practical. What they are complaining about is real enough. No water and we are dead. But you can hear an overtone of demand, of regret and lack of trust. The journey of life demands water. But water is not something you and I can make. It is something offered to us. When we discover it, we have the responsibility to care for it, to keep it clean and keep it around. What is most needed for life, and there is no life without water, always remains a gift. Its presence in a physical or spiritual way demands a response of gratitude.

In the Gospel story we find Jesus tired and thirsty in the middle of the day. He comes to a well, a cistern expecting to find water. Jesus, too, needed water. He was tired from the journey. But what does he find? Instead of finding a welcoming host, he finds a woman who seems to question everything. I’d say he finds a thirsty woman: Her living condition demands she keeps coming out to the well for water; her marital condition indicates that her relationships are not normal or acceptable; she is a Samaritan woman–not one of us. Following cultural tradition, she should not be talking to a male Jew. So we find racism, tribalism and sexism all in one. We find that religious questions have created tensions between her community and the Jews. I’d say Jesus finds a thirsty woman. Surely she is not a complainer, but she is locked into a system that keeps her longing for something of freedom, for something that can truly satisfy her longing: for the necessities of life: water; her sexual desires; a healthy relationship; a longing for God who exists in spirit and truth.

The woman is really a reflection of our own needs as we journey through life. Many of us can feel tired. We keep coming for water but never seem to get enough. We look for relationships, but how often they are turned into a format for domination and control. And how often we Christians fight among ourselves about what is the true and authentic way to worship our one Father. We long and thirst for so much. We complain when we do not find it. Or we lose courage; we lose the way or find something else to drink. We give ourselves to relationships but without commitment or bonds of love.

This is the Sunday to listen to the longings of our heart. They are many, they are great. They are also real and practical. But today is also the Sunday of the good news that Jesus is the one whom God has sent to meet us in our tiredness, in our moment of thirst. He is the one the woman found at the well. Maybe he is the one sitting there each time we need water of some kind. Maybe he is there thirsting for us, longing to offer us the life that flows from within. We look to fill up our needs by pouring in something from the outside. But Jesus is there to say, I will fill your life from the inside out. A relationship with me will quench the frustration of all others. It will make the journey of life truly a life-giving one.

This Sunday invites us to be honest about our longings. The community of Israel was very honest about what it wanted. The Samaritan woman was also honest with Jesus about her needs. We may be tired, discouraged; we many have lost something of the meaning and purpose of our life. But this is the Sunday that we look up and see Jesus. He is sitting there and offering something sweet and wonderful. Will we be as courageous as the woman of Samaria? She kept talking to Jesus until she realized that he was the one she had been thirsting, longing for. Let us be in conversation with Jesus long enough for us to know that he is the water of life, he is the Messiah, he is the Prophet; he is the Savior of the world.

~Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

Homily - 1st Sunday of Lent-2020

Fr. Thomas Leitner shared his homily for the 1st Sunday of Lent. Click below for the video:

Mt 4:1-11
Gen 2:7-9;3:1-7
Rom 5:12-19

Focus: Through the redemption in Jesus Christ, we have found anew community with God.
Function: Nevertheless, temptation and sin are still a reality in our lives and need to be confronted.

Dear sisters and brothers in Christ,

In his Rule for monks, the founder of our order, St. Benedict, enjoins on the novice master to pay attention to the following in a person who is interested in joining the monastery. Quote: “The concern must be whether the novice truly seeks God, and whether he shows eagerness for the Work of God [the Liturgy of the Hours, the daily prayer times], for obedience, and for trials. Benedict wrote his Rule in Latin. The Latin word for obedience, obedientia, is related to the word audire, which means hearing. Is he ready and willing to listen to God in prayer and to listen to the abbot, the prior and the other monks, to what they have to say? – Trials, this word stands for readiness to do simple and menial work and for readiness to accept correction. Whether he seeks God…This points us the central topic of the Season of Lent: Seeking God.

Today’s first reading tells us about the creation of the first human from clay and divine Spirit, about the dwelling of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden and about their expulsion from there as a consequence of sin. The intention of the Biblical author apparently is to address questions and problems of human life: Why is there so much suffering among humans and finally death? The answer: God doesn’t want death; human beings themselves choose death by turning away from God, the source of life.

Today’s gospel presents us with the person of Jesus. For forty days, Jesus was tempted, that is, examined, tested, by the devil in the desert. Adam had given in to the temptation. The people of Israel were tested by God himself in the desert and didn’t pass the test. So they had to stay there for forty years. Jesus, however, did not succumb to the temptations. He was completely human and experienced the human hunger for wealth, for honor and for power and for influence over people. But he withstood—with the mighty help of God’s word.

Finally, in today’s second reading, St. Paul explains to the Christians in Rome the new era that has begun for us in Jesus Christ. The disobedience of Adam lead to death, the obedience of Christ has opened for all the way to life, to lasting communion with God.

Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord, Through our redemption in Jesus Christ, we have found new communion with God. Nevertheless, temptation and sin are still a reality in our lives and need to be confronted.

We stand at the beginning of Lent. St. Benedict wrote, “our life should be a continuous Lent.” Since few, however, have the strength for this he urges the monks and all of us “to wash away in this holy season the negligence of other times” (RB 49:1-3). Lent is a time of cleansing, a time of leaving behind bad and sinful habitsand of training good habits that make us freer to serve God and other people. A good confession can help us to evaluate our lives before God,and to make corrections wherever needed.

“One does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.” What are our ways of receiving nourishment through God’s word? Would it be a good idea for us to set aside a little time every day during Lent and to read Holy Scripture, for instance, the Gospel of Matthew, from which the Sunday gospels are taken during this liturgical year? Are we able to attend daily mass sometimes during Lent?

Lent is a time of fasting, of restraint in food and drink and in other areas. But in a certain sense also a time of joyous feasting. Here are some more ideas for Lenten fasting and feasting:

Fast from judging others; feast on the Christ dwelling within you.
Fast from thoughts of illness; feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from words that pollute; feast on phrases that purify.
Fast from anger; feast on patience. Fast from pessimism; feast on optimism.
Fast from worry; feast on Divine order. Fast from complaining; feast on appreciation.
Fast from bitterness; feast on forgiveness.
Fast from self-concern; feast on compassion for others.
Fast from discouragement; feast on hope.
Fast from thoughts that weaken; feast on promises that inspire.

Good choices like these during Lent and beyond will help us to turn to God, to seek God. Proper fasting and feasting during Lent help us to become open to God, and, in order to use St. Benedict’s words again, “to expect … Easter in the joy of the Holy Spirit.”

~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB

Fr. Jacques Spanish Homily from Mass at the St. Benedict Center

Levítico 19, 1-2. 17-19. Salmo 102. 1Corintios 3, 16-23. Mateo 5, 38-48.


Homilía: Queridos hermanos y hermanas, el Evangelio de hoy séptimo domingo del tiempo ordinario me parece un montaje de película o de teatro. Cuando uno le da una bofetada al ser humano, su reacción refleja o casi automática, es responder al golpe con otros golpes, o protegerse la cara contra el eventual segundo golpe o huir. Pero poner la otra mejilla no es habitual. Parece una locura un abuso y una injusticia aconsejar a alguien que acaba de recibir una buena bofetada que ponga la otra mejilla y la exponga al mismo tratamiento.
Los judíos arreglaban las peleas de una manera violenta y exagerada. Si te quitaban un dedo y si tú podías arrancar a la persona sus pies sus manos y todo lo que tú pudieras, eso estaba bien visto. Te mataban un miembro de tu familia, si tenías la posibilidad de acabar con todas las familias del que te mató un miembro, adelante. Eso era horrible. Así llegaron a este acuerdo de ojo por ojo diente por diente mano por mano. No más. Éxodo 21 ,20. Levítico 24, 20. Deuteronomio 19, 21.
Pero Jesús hoy nos dice algo que nos sorprende. Él no está instituyendo la injusticia o el abuso a los débiles cuando él nos dice de hacer mejor que lo que estaba. De superar el ojo por ojo diente por diente. En realidad la violencia siempre genera violencia. Y son pocas las personas que pueden seguir golpeando a alguien que se deja golpear y no trata de defenderse. (Dejemos a un lado los casos de castigos donde el culpable debe ser sometido a estos tratamientos, o los drogadictos y terroristas quienes asesinan a todo lo encuentran en sus caminos sean culpables o no.) Dejando estos casos extraños, nadie tiene el valor de hacer daño a un inocente que lo está mirando con calma.
Jesús nos está proponiendo comportamientos pacíficos que hagan pensar al adversario, al defraudador, y probablemente les pueden conducir a una conversión. Que es lo más preferible, para el cristiano: Responder a un golpe con otro golpe y dejar el adversario decir: “¡Oh o! estos cristianos son tan violentos como nosotros que no creemos en nada” o no responder al golpe y que digan: “¡Qué raro, qué pacíficos son! Estos cristianos tienen algo más que nosotros.” Claro no vamos a dejar que abusen de nosotros por gusto. Esto no vale la pena, y tampoco es el mensaje del Evangelio. La clave es hacerlo para ganar al agresor a Cristo. Para que vea que ser cristiano es distinto y mejor, y que una sociedad cristiana es la más feliz que pueda existir.
Quisiera contarles dos historias.
Primero: Es la historia de un policía que perdió uno de sus hermanos en un accidente de tráfico. De hecho él está haciendo una venganza permanente poniéndole multas a cualquier chofer o usuario de la vía que cometa una infracción o no. Cuando sale a la vía él para el primer vehículo que encuentra e inventa una irregularidad y pone una multa. Los usuarios de la vía que logran escapar son los que tienen suerte y pasan en el momento cuando está poniendo la multa a alguien. Y apenas termina de multar a uno vuelve a la vía y para otro chofer sin razón. Así pasa sus días de servicio castigando a todos los conductores que pasan por donde él está. A veces el mismo pone trampas de circulación escondidas en la calle, para que los usuarios caigan en ellas. Este policía siempre cuando sale de su casa para el servicio, su objetivo es castigar a los usuarios de la vía, porque él los toma como culpables, que causaron la muerte de uno de sus hermanos.
La segunda historia es de una mujer que se me acercó un día en Cuba, cuando terminé la misa en el convento de las madres carmelitas. Ella estaba llorando y sus lágrimas salían como si fuera la lluvia. Yo noté que ella tenía algo muy serio. Pues, me dijo con la voz muy cerrada: “Padre, se me murió el único hijo que tengo.” Le pregunté: “¿Qué le pasó?” Ella me contestó: “él vivía en extranjero. Me dijeron que tenía fiebre y que estaba vomitando, lo llevaron al hospital. Parece que no tuvo la atención necesaria y falleció. Estoy haciendo las gestiones para el transporte del cuerpo, porque lo vamos enterrar aquí.” ¡Mira padre! Continuó ella, “soy médico. Si yo hubiera estado allí, lo habría atendido y él no hubiera muerto.” Le pregunté: “¿Piensas que murió por culpa de los médicos de allí?” “Sí padre.” Dijo ella y siguió llorando intensamente.
Yo estaba tratando de consolarla, conversamos como media hora o algo poquito más. Y antes de separarnos, ella me dijo algo que me dejo apreciar la calidad de vida humana, cristiana, y espiritual que ella tenía. Ella dijo: “Ellos dejaron morir a mi único hijo. Pero yo, como médico, nunca voy a dejar morir un paciente por culpa mía. Voy siempre a hacer lo que puedo aun si es necesario dar mi vida para salvar la de las personas que están bajo mi cuidado. Lo que pasó con mi hijo me afecta muchísimo, pero eso no me va hacer negar mi atención a los que lo necesitan.
Yo me quedé admirado, era como si ella acabara de hacer una profesión de fe en Dios y en el Santo Evangelio de Jesús. Yo pude sentir la fuerza del alma que ella tiene y ver que lo que le sucedió es una lección para ella a no brindar malos servicios porque ella misma fue víctima de un mal servicio. Yo vi que además, el evento de la muerte de su hijo se volvió en fuente de energía donde ella iría a sacando fuerza, ánimo y el empeño para atender a los que necesitarán su atención.
Estas son las historias de dos personajes distintos el policía y la mujer medico. ¿Cuál sería la que tú aquí presente tomarías como ejemplo? Cada uno hará su elección.
Pero sabemos que la violencia es el actitud típico de los que no tienen salvación. Nosotros que somos salvados estamos convencidos de que al responder con violencia a la violencia, podemos matar al asesino que nos mató a alguien, pero no vamos a poder con nuestra violencia matar a la muerte. Con violencia podemos matar al mentiroso, pero no vamos a poder matar a la mentira in instaurar la verdad. Con la violencia podemos matar al terrorista, sin embargo no vamos a quitar el terrorismo. Tú puedes con violencia matar al que te odia pero no puedes matar al odio. Al responder a la violencia con violencia tú no quita la violencia del mundo sino que la estás al contrario promoviendo.
Jesús nos quiere perfectos, santos como su Padre, nuestro padre es perfecto. La perfección humana, no es únicamente la excelencia en las cosas técnicas, no solamente en el progreso económico y en el desarrollo material, sino también en cuanto el hombre crece en la fe y sigue los mandatos del Señor: amar, amar y amar a los enemigos.
Eso quiere decir, que aunque estemos sintiendo el dolor de la puñalada no sacamos nuestra espada. Mt 26, 52. Aunque estamos sintiendo el golpe en la mejilla volvemos a dar la otra mejilla. Mt 5, 38. Aunque el enemigo nos está persiguiendo estamos aquí tranquilitos rezando por el, Mt 5, 44. Dejamos nuestra túnica al que se nos la quiere quitar, Lc 6, 29… [Eso no tiene sentido ni a los ojos ni al oídos de los que no tienen fe. Solo para nosotros que creemos en Jesús, sabemos que es el camino correcto, que lleva al mundo perfecto, al reino de Dios. Así sea.

Homily - Presentation of Jesus

Malachi 3:1–4
Hebrews 2:14–18
Luke 2:22–40

This feast we know now as the feast of the Presentation is known in Eastern Churches as the Feast of the Encounter or Hypapánte. It is the feast of the meeting. It is the meeting of the Lord with his own people. He encounters them in the Temple, the very place where his people come regularly to meet the Lord and offer sacrifice. The temple in Jerusalem is the meeting place par excellence.

The meetings that take place there today are on several levels. We see the old Simeon and Anna meeting the young couple and child. And the young are the joy of the old. Simeon and Anna are given much space today in the story; this old couple as it were, hanging around in the meeting place of the temple, are somehow in forefront. These old people are wait for and living for the young, for the child. Both the young couple and the old couple realize that the child they hold and see is a gift. A gift that came out of promise. The old Simeon and Anna especially are able to see in the child something more than just a young parents’ child. This old man and woman in the temple recognize what we might crassly call the potentiality of the child the young couple hold. But in terms of potential, the scale today tips a little bit in favor of the older couple. The young couple of Mary and Joseph say nothing but listen to what the old Simeon and Anna say about their child.

Today’s feast is an intergenerational feast. While old may meet young, and the young are surprised at what the old have to say, there is not a picture here of a gap between the ages but rather an encounter, a meeting. The young and the old both hold the child in their arms. The old people and the young couple with child each give and receive something from each other. The young couple is silent, perhaps a bit taken back. The old people do all the talking and the talk is all about the child, who he is, what he means for them and for the community. The old man and woman are able to recognize and say who the child is. They are able to say in plain terms, they have experienced a dream come true. The old people have lived for this child to come; they have lived for this day. For the young couple and their 40-day old child it is perhaps a revelation. The old couple see completion, their life coming to its fulfillment in the coming of the child. The young couple see the beginning, the beginning of a new story, of a new wonder wrought by the God of Israel. The young and the old today are not opposites—but together they are part of one story. It is a meeting of the ages so that they are not to be seen as two separate ages but as an age that is moving on from the hope of the old. And the old is wise and loving enough to see in the young the power and energy that can be both light and honor.

Let us look at the old man Simeon. His arms are holding the Child Jesus. Can we picture ourselves, too, holding a young child and seeing its beauty? Seeing God’s smile in its smile? Can we gently hold the child to our bosom as something precious, something that is both wonderful and fragile? Something that seems weak and needs, for a moment, the strength of my arms? Let us go one step further. Can we join Simeon in holding Christ in our arms for a moment? Can we recognize the one whom God has sent into our midst as out of nowhere? Can we hold in our arms the light of the world? Can we who have lived some years recognize when Christ is among us? Or do we presuppose that he can’t be in that person or in that place? Do we have Simeon’s vision? And just as important are we led by the Spirit to see today where Jesus is and to recognize him there? Do our eyes light up with recognition when we see this Jesus? For Simeon, Jesus was a mere 40-day old child, young and fresh.

There is a good hint in today’s story that he is with the poor and the elderly. The young couple who come in have a child by unusual means and are offering what poor people offer, a pair of birds. And the old people today: Simeon, devout and attentive to the Spirit’s movement; Anna, a widow with no one to stand by her side. These are God’s people, Jesus’ people, and the ones he has come to meet. And yet these have a precious treasure: trust in God’s word and hope that God is faithful. These are the people who are stripped of everything but trust in God. These are those who know how to wait for God because there is nothing else. No wonder Jesus can come to them and they move toward him.

When the new comes, when the young appear suddenly, the old poor of God see, they give praise, they can announce the good news and then die in peace. Their old arms and their old eyes are not so weak after all. Their age has graced them with wisdom and patience and hope in a word kept. They see clearly and they hold in their sight and in their arms the promise of the future, God’s future for the world and its people.

Are we people of hope gathered here to embrace the future God holds out to us in this place of meeting?

~Fr. Joel Macul, OSB





Homily - 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time-2020

Mt 4:12-23
Is 8:2 –9:3 1  
Cor 1:10-13.17

 Focus:  Jesus called his first disciples; and they followed him immediately.

Function:  We, too, were called by Jesus and are called ever anew to hear his word, to follow his example and to become ‘real.’

 Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord, 

 Some of you may the following wonderful story

 I would like to ask you to hear with the ear of your heart: The wooden horse lived longer in the children’s playroom than anyone else. It was so old that his brown cloth cover was scraped off very much and had quite a number of holes.  Children had pulled out most of its tail hair in order to lining up beads on it.  It had become honorably old and wise …

 “What is real?”, the velveteen rabbit asked one day, as they we laying side by side near the playpen, before the girl had gotten around to make order. “Does it mean to have things in oneself that hum and to be equipped with a wind up key?”  ”Real,” the wooden horse replied, “does not depend on the way somebody is fabricated.  It is something that happens to us. If a child loves you for a long, long time, not only in order to play with you, but loves you really, then you become real.”

 “Is it painful,” the rabbit asked. “Sometimes,” the wooden hose replied, for it always told the truth. “If you are real, then you don’t mind it that it hurts.”

 “Does it happen once in a sudden, just as if one is being wound up,” the velveteen rabbit asked again, “or gradually?”  “It does not happen once in a sudden,” the wooden horse said. “You become.  It takes a long time. This is the reason why it doesn’t happen often with those who break easily or who have sharp corners or who have to be kept nice.  Generally speaking, at the time when you will be real most of the hair has disappeared, your eyes have fallen out; you are shaky in your joints and very ugly.  But these things are not important at all; because when you are real you can’t be ugly, except in the eyes of people who don’t know what’s it all about.”

 “I think you are real,” the velveteen rabbit remarked. And then he wished he had not said this— may be the wooden horse was sensitive.  But the wooden horse only smiled.

 In today’s gospel we hear about the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry.  Jesus is the Light.  He appears in Zebulon and Naphtali, in Northern Galilee, where half of the population weren’t even Jews but gentiles at this time.  These were not the people who stood in the limelight of public attention and acclaim!  To them Jesus brings light and hope first!

 What he says and does, the evangelist Matthew points out, is the fulfillment  of Isaiah’s prophecy.  In Isaiah’s lifetime, the prophet’s words hadn’t come true.  Isaiah had announced liberation from the Assyrian occupiers of the land.  Matthew now tells us: Here is one, Jesus, who brings true liberation.

 How does he do that? First, through his word.  According to Matthew, Jesus is the new Moses.  Like Moses, Jesus, with whom Joseph and Mary had to flee, was called out of Egypt.  His teaching, especially the Sermon of the Mount, is the New Law of God, God’s promise and God’s direction.  Blessed are the sorrowing, the poor, and the meek: They are the first ones  who need to hear that they are loved by God, not for what they do but for who they are.  Furthermore, Jesus heals people in body and soul, and sets them free from their infirmities.

 Jesus calls upon people to repent and to believe in the reality of God’s reign of love.  Many, like Simon Peter and Andrew, James and John, he calls to follow him by sharing his life as an itinerant preacher.  Others, like his friends Mary, Martha and Lazarus, stay at their place, but also live according to his teaching.

 In all of them grew, through Jesus, a sense that life is more than simply living the way other people live, and doing things the way all people do them; they started to realize their own, special vocation; they began to become more and more themselves.

 Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord, Like Jesus’ first disciples we, too, are called to follow him without resistance.  We, are meant to hear his word, to imitate his example and to become ‘real.’

 As it was for the wooden horse, so it is also for us a gradual process; and it can hurt.  But “becoming real” is possible, because we have been loved by God for a long, long time: even before we were born.  God loved us into existence.

 We can ask ourselves this morning: What does it take for us to know and to accept Christ more fully, who is also the light for our darkness?  What is it that keeps us from the light?  What is it that we need to give up?  What is it that we need to do?

 Let me conclude with a prayer: Almighty Father, the love you offer always exceeds the furthest expression of human longing,  for you are greater than the human heart.  Direct each thought, each effort of our human life, so that the limits of our faults and weaknesses may not obscure the vision of your glory or keep us for the peace you promised.   AMEN.

  ~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB

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