Fr. Matthias Neuman's Homily for the 2nd Sunday of Easter

Readings: Acts 2:42-47; 1 Pet 1:3-9; Jn 20:19-31

On Easter Sunday we celebrated the great event of Jesus’ Resurrection—that moment when His Heavenly Father vindicated his life work and ministry by receiving him into the fullness of Divine Glory. This Sunday and those which immediately follow consider how we are to assimilate and live that message in our lives. The question for these Sundays is: how are we a Resurrection People?

Today’s scriptural readings give us three widely differing responses to that question. The first, from the Acts of the Apostles, presents an ideal picture of the happy and harmonious life of the first followers of Jesus. "They devoted themselves to the teaching of the Apostles, to the common life, to the breaking of bread and to the prayers. .... They ate their meals with glad and joyful hearts." It’s the kind of description you read in vocation literature today. The second reading, from 1 Peter, gives a quite different response to the Resurrection message. It says the Resurrection has given us "a living hope" that will sustain us in the midst of the sufferings of life. That’s a much more modest and believable assessment. That would be a road we could follow. But then the third reading, the gospel story of the Doubting Thomas, causes us again to pause. It tells us that even to get to that "living hope" will require a struggling with doubt and uncertainty. In sum, these three readings tell us that "believing in the Resurrection of Jesus" has a great goal but that it’s no picnic in the park getting there.

I suppose the question that these readings raise for all of us is: how do we become and remain men and women of "living hope?" Whenever the subject of hope comes up, I’m always taken back to my first real introduction to that virtue in the life story of Fr. William Lynch. William Lynch was a Jesuit priest who taught the classics at Fordham University in New York City. While he was in the full stature of a professor, he experienced a nervous breakdown, falling into a debilitating depression that required extensive hospitalization. During his lengthy stay in the psychiatric hospital he slowly and painfully regained a hope in life. He later told of his regaining hope in one of his most famous books, Images of Hope. He describes vividly the painful little steps by which he could once again see a future in life. His first step was trusting someone else to assist him in the task: first, the psychiatrist, then some of the other patients in the hospital. This experience convinced Fr. Lynch that true hope—true Christian hope—is only gained and experienced communally.

And I think that’s one of the reasons we hear that idealistic description of community life in the first reading today. It’s to highlight the assertion that Resurrection-faith is really an action of community hope, a "living hope" that will sustain us in the struggles of life. And we do it together. And we do it together.

The real message of these scriptural readings is how much we need each other. That’s the essence of a real religious community. I was amazed when I read in Fr. Matthew Kelty’s Gethsemani Homilies his reflections on 50 years as a monk in the monastery of Gethsemani. He said in all that time there wasn’t a single person he met in the house that he would personally choose as a friend. He continued "but we are all brothers and there’s a lot of love in this place." It’s a love that based on respect, not necessarily "liking" people. The hope that sustains us springs up in our midst and we all contribute something to it. That’s one of the miracles of Easter.

Jesus' May Message

Dearest apostles, I speak to you today with a heart filled with love. I am grateful for your steady service. I am grateful for your fidelity to My plan for Renewal. If there is something that is keeping you from total abandonment to My cause, I will show you. Will you accept My light? Will you allow Me to direct you to even greater holiness? I want this for you. I want you to make additional gains in holiness. Perhaps you are afraid of this because you fear I will ask you to give more than you can give. I assure you, dear apostles, I will not ask you for anything you cannot give to Me. I will ask you to serve Me in a reasonable manner that is consistent with the gifts I have given to you. What I am urging you toward is greater intimacy with Me and with My heart. My heart beats with love for humanity in an uninterrupted beat. The rhythm of My beating heart provides you with a steady source of zeal for the spread of the gospel message. Too many of God’s children are without hope. This lack of hope brings them to actions that hurt themselves and others. There is no need for this, dear apostles, and you can change the experience of many if you do as I ask. You will have to be alert in order to hear My instructions, though, and it is for this reason I call you to concentrate on what is good about your life. I call you to concentrate on what I am seeking to do through you. Be at peace. I will help you in everything and, together, we will offer the Father the gift of your ongoing conversion.

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Easter Homily

Readings: Acts 10:34-43; Col 3:1-4; Jn 20:1-9

In the mountain regions of Greece, where little villages are widely separated, it’s common for a priest to have five or six villages assigned to his care. On Easter Sunday morning he is expected to visit each one of them and celebrate a short morning service of the Resurrection in the Byzantine tradition. The custom has arisen, and remains to this day, that when the priest enters each little church where the people have gathered, he shouts at the top of his voice, "Christos anesti" (Christ is Risen) And the people shout in return "Christos anesti." They are celebrating that in the Resurrection Jesus has saved and redeemed us. We have a future with God. The feast of the Resurrection is the salvation of all the followers of Jesus and indeed the whole world.

That’s the large, overall Christian message of Easter. But a smaller, day-to-day message follows closely from that. Easter also points to a transition in the life of Jesus’ disciples. They have been freed from the fear and uncertainty that followed the capture and crucifixion of Jesus. Beyond that they are led to an empowering joy in their lives. We don’t see much of that empowering joy in the Gospels themselves, but it shows up in the subsequent writings of the New Testament. The disciples go around fearlessly proclaiming the Resurrection of Jesus and the New Covenant with God that Jesus’ life, death and Resurrection made manifest. Early Christianity is a movement flooded by empowering joy, an empowering joy that they want to share with all people.

It’s important to keep both of these perspectives in mind as we celebrate this feast. On the one hand, we joyfully proclaim the glorious future that God has opened for us. On the other hand, we recognize that we are impelled to go out and share this empowering joy with others, especially those suffering from the discouragements of life.

That dual dimension was something I certainly felt last Wednesday evening. I was over at the Hermitage pushing my mother through the halls when the Health Care receptionist came up to me. She said that one of the residents, Tudie West, was rapidly in the process of dying and she couldn’t find any priest to do the anointing for her. I said I would go and immediately get my oils. On the way back to the chaplain’s house I kept thinking of the past months. Almost every evening when I would go to the Hermitage after supper one of her daughters, especially the twins Karen and Sharon, was feeding her in such a gentle manner. I would often stop and talk with them for a while. I thought, "they are now on their Good Friday way of the cross." When I got to her room, all her children (except for one son) were there and grieving as they knew she was dying. I was able to get all of them involved in the anointing as a final farewell to their mother. She died a little more than an hour after that. The next afternoon I ran into Sharon and Karen in the parking lot. They had cleaned out their mother’s room and were loading the things into a station wagon. I stopped and talked with them. They were very appreciative that I could do the anointing. I mentioned that something like this, sad as it is, has a way of bringing the children closer together. They said that was certainly true with them; the children had become closer than they had ever been before. The power of empowering joy was beginning to be felt in their lives. It would be an Easter of hope for them.

That’s what Easter should be for each of us—the dawning of an empowering joy in our lives that will make us become men and women of great hope. Let’s pray that it be so.

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Homily for Passion Sunday

Readings: Is 50:4-7; Phil 2:6-11; Mt 26:14-27:66

This feast of Passion Sunday and the reading of the Passion account remembers and anticipates a sudden change in the lives of Jesus and his disciples. How thrilling and joyous was that triumphal entry into Jerusalem! How deeply moving was that intimate supper that Jesus celebrated with his closest followers! After the meal they went out into the night singing, as was Jewish custom, the Hallel Psalms (##115-118) and the Great Hallel (#136): "Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love is eternal. Give thanks to the God of Gods; His love is eternal." Joyous with the meal, the celebration and the wine they nodded off in the garden while Jesus prayed. Then in a flash the soldiers arrived, Jesus is arrested, and the disciples scatter and run away in fear. The unthinkable had happened. Everything changed in that moment. Passion Sunday reminds us of that change as we read the Passion account. How quickly the joyous entry into Jerusalem has suddenly become tragedy.

Holy Week plays out symbolically the last weeks of Jesus’ life. Each day in Holy Week is connected to some event that prepared for Jesus’ death and burial in those earlier days. As the week moves along we will want to focus on those events as part of our common liturgical lectio.

That’s what Holy Week is for a monastic community—a common liturgical lectio. We together are reading not a book, but a series of liturgical actions—the washing of the feet, the sharing of a supper, the reading of the Passion account. With each event we reflect on that event for its significance for our own spiritual lives. This is the story of our faith, indeed of our salvation, acted out.

This Passion Sunday we began with that joyful outdoor procession around the Mary circle and into the Church—liturgically expressing the Lord’s entry into Jerusalem. But soon we were listening to the account of the Passion—the beginning of the painful end of Jesus life. These remind us that we have our great moments of joy and happiness in life, but we will also have our own crosses. Let’s pray for a moment on that.

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Homily for the 5th Sunday in Lent

Readings: Ez 37:12-14; Rom 8:8-11; Jn 11:1-45

The story of the raising of Lazarus appears only in the Gospel of John. Not even a trace exists in the gospel traditions of Matthew, Mark and Luke. How odd that is! You would think such a spectacular miracle would have been imprinted into all the Christian memories of Jesus. But it didn’t. In John’s gospel it seems to serve a variety of functions. First, it is an exemplification of what John has Jesus say earlier in the gospel: "The Father has given the power of life and death to the Son." (5:26) Second, the story looks forward to Jesus’ own resurrection, which will far surpass Lazarus in magnificence and glory. Third, the story is the fulfillment of the prophecy of Ezekiel, which we heard in the first reading: "I will open your graves and have you rise from them" The cumulative effect of all these references clearly points to John’s primary affirmation that Jesus himself is the Son of God.

We need to hear this message now. It’s been a hard week for the community with deaths, near-deaths, scary episodes for community members, and just sad events (Fr. Mel Bennett’s automobile accident, in which he killed another person.). It’s a time when the cost of being human and human failure just weighs down upon us. I could see it in your faces this week and I could feel it in mine. We need this message of the Resurrection that Jesus is ultimately the source of life.

This reminds us how much the Christian faith is a religion of hope: hope in a blessed future; hope in a merciful and forgiving God; hope that something better lies beyond the struggles of this life.

This is told beautifully in a famous story related by the Venerable Bede in his Ecclesiastical History of the English People. During the 7th century Christian missionaries are trying to convert Anglo-Saxon tribes in England from their tribal gods to the Christian faith. The bishop Paulinus is attempting to convert King Edwin of Northumbria to Christianity. The king leans in that direction, but first he wants to consult with his fighting men. Should we try this new faith or not? During the discussion one of his soldiers makes this famous comment: "Your Majesty, when we compare the present life of man with that time of which we have no knowledge, it seems to me like the swift flight of a lone sparrow through the banquet hall where you sit in winter months to dine with your thanes and councillors. Inside there is a comforting fire to warm the room; outside, the wintry storms of snow and rain are raging. This sparrow flies swiftly in through one door of the hall and out the other. While he is inside, he is safe from the winter storms; but after a few sudden moments of comfort, he vanishes from sight into the darkness from whence he came. Similarly, man appears on earth a little while, but we know nothing of what went before this life, and what follows. Therefore if this new teaching can reveal any more certain knowledge, it seems only right that we should follow it." (pp. 124-125) Not bad advice from a barbarian.

What the Christian faith does offer is a vision of hope. Hope that we are destined for a future with the Mystery of God. And in that all of our desires and hopes will be fulfilled....far beyond our imagining. As St. Paul writes, "For eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it even entered into the human imagination what God has prepared for those who love Him." (1 Cor 2:9) Moreover, the Christian faith offers a group of like-minded hopers to help and support one another to keep this hope alive. That’s precisely what we are doing in this communal celebration of the Eucharist.

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Homily for the 4th Sunday in Lent

Readings: 1 Sam 16:1-13; Eph 5:8-14; Jn 9:1-41

Fr. Mark Massa SJ, in a recent insightful book entitled The American Catholic Revolution: How the Sixties changed the Church forever, states in several places that the only way one can explain many of the changes that happened after Vatican II is by reverting to an old law of history: the law of unintended consequences. In other words this law could be put positively: in a living, historical community of people things seldom go exactly as one plans them. There are simply too many factors to take into consideration when planning. No one individual, no committee can refer to all of them. Human life is too complex. How often governments have passed laws to control a situation....and wound up making it worse....because of something no one had ever thought of. Fr. Massa believes that there is no way the bishops at Vatican II could have imagined the change process they unleashed in the Church. Things seldom turn out exactly as we plan them.

There’s a similar kind of law that seems to emerge from today’s readings: people seldom are completely what they seem to be on the surface. In the first reading Jesse doesn’t even consider his youngest son, David, as a possible candidate to be the King of Israel. But in God’s eyes David is that king. In the gospel the man born blind is simply taken to be born in sin; his very blindness shows that. But Jesus says: "No, he was not born in sin." That has nothing to do with his blindness. People seldom are completely what they seem to be on the surface.

It would be good if we would take these two laws more seriously, especially the second. Lent is a good time to do a little purging of the presumptions and judgments we have about people, particularly those we closely live with. Presumptions and judgments can get so ingrained in us that it’s hard to see how far off they are from the reality. This gospel story today is just filled with biases and prejudices. The Pharisees have no qualms about their judgments on the man born blind or on Jesus; they are prejudiced. They can’t see past attitudes that they have come to accept as "set in concrete." Their opinion of themselves just drips with bias. Most of us would probably find it hard to admit that we are much more similar to them than we think we are.

Prejudices, especially inherited prejudices, are notoriously difficult to confront. I’m reminded of the early years of the ecumenical and interfaith dialogues—how much suspicion there was of each other. I remember once hearing Rabbi Marc Tannenbaum give an address about his entry into interfaith relations with Catholics. His own family had known nothing but hostility from Christians for generations. He spoke about the first time he was going to meet with a group of Catholic bishops and priests during the Second Vatican Council. His family had a deep-rooted prejudice towards Catholics and fear of them. He could hardly sleep the night before. He kept waking up and finding himself sweating heavily. The next morning he considered not showing up for the meeting at all. Even after the meeting went beautifully, he had a hard time accepting in his heart that these were really good people, good religious people. He had to tell himself that over and over again. It’s not easy to get at prejudices.

Lent is a good time for us to begin to erode some of the prejudices and biases in our lives.

Spring Break in Wyoming

My brother, Fr. Zach, and I just returned from our trip to Wyoming. We spent 6 days with our brother...the Bishop! Pictures speak louder than words!