Fr. Matthias Neuman's Homily for Trinity Sunday

Readings: Ex 34:4-9; 2 C or. 13:11-13; Jn 3:16-18

When I was teaching systematic theology courses in the seminary, the course on the Trinity was, without doubt, the most difficult to teach. All the systematics professors were agreed on that. The problem was that no matter how thoroughly and accurately a professor explained the theology of Trinity, you were lucky if one student in an entire class really understood what you taught. Most of them looked confused when you started and they looked even more confused when you finished. Teaching Trinity was one of those frustrating experiences that just had to be done to meet curriculum requirements. (The same holds true for priests preaching on Trinity Sunday. Practically no one likes to do it. At least I’ve never met one who did.)

As time went on, I began to try and place the Trinity in a larger context that included the whole search for a belief in the Mystery of God. That seemed to work much better. The key that opened up that approach to me was a comment by a particular theologian (I can’t remember who it was) who wrote that the Trinity in the New Testament was really a spirituality in search of a theology. In other words, the early Christians had three distinct experiences of meeting the divine (Father, Son in Jesus Christ and Holy Spirit). And they were convinced that each was a genuine experience of the one God. St. Augustine wrote a great big volume On the Trinity. It took him twenty years to complete. At the end of the book he tried to summarize the whole book in these words: "The Father is God! The Son is God! The Spirit is God! There is only one God!" For a lot of people today the Trinity is still a spirituality in search of a theology.

All that was summed up nicely in the passage we heard from Second Corinthians: "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all!" That is, by the way, one of the earliest indications we have of this complex conviction of the early Christians about God. One of the most important things this teaches us is that God deals with us in a multitude of ways. If you recall last Sunday for the feast of Pentecost, I reflected that the Spirit’s bestowal of charisms on all the People of God shows us that God takes the initiative with us, giving us ideas and impulses to reach out and help each other. But that doesn’t exhaust the ways that God deals with us. The Son in Jesus Christ is connect with grace—the graciousness and mercy of God towards us. The Father is connected with love. Whatever in creation that connects us with love....shows us an aspect of the Father. The Spirit is connected with the formation of community. Any outreach that builds true community is the Spirit of God breathing among us. God deals with us in a multitude of ways.

There is one way that God deals with us that doesn’t come from the credal and theological traditions. But we learn it very clearly in the mystical tradition: namely, that God sometimes hides from us. God sometimes lurks just beyond the edge of our awareness. St. Theresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross understood this very well. This point was recently expressed very beautifully by Sr. Mara Faulkner, a Benedictine from St. Joseph, MN in a poem she wrote entitled: "Things I didn’t know I Loved." There’s a long list of such things, but towards the end she has this one: "And you, my God, so silent and cold, I didn’t know I loved you until you woke every morning in my little stove so lowly in your prison house of wood and flesh and fire so eager and so needful of my hands." That’s a wonderful thought to end with on Trinity Sunday: we may love God more than we really know. We all need to have faith in that.

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Pentecost Homily

Readings: Acts 2:1-11; 1 Cor 12:3-13; John 20:19-23

The Holy Spirit is an elusive (almost sneaky) sort. In today’s first reading the Spirit comes upon Mary and the disciples and impels them to speak in different languages. In the second reading Paul announces the thoroughness of the Spirit in all the followers of Jesus Christ, from the very first moment that one confessed ‘Jesus is Lord.’ And in the passage from John’s gospel the Spirit becomes the medium through which sins are forgiven. In our own days the Holy Spirit remains just as elusive. Pope John XXIII often remarked that it was a sudden inspiration from the Spirit that urged him to call the Second Vatican Council. It was that same council which proclaimed that the Holy Spirit distributes diverse charisms on all the members of the Church. The Holy Spirit is not easy to categorize.

I’d like to spend a little time with that last thought, that the Holy Spirit distributes charisms on all the members of the Church. Let’s listen again to that relevant passage from the Constitution on the Church: "...the Holy Spirit sanctifies and leads the people of God....and distributes special graces among the faithful of every rank. By these gifts he makes them fit and ready to undertake the various tasks and duties which contribute toward the renewal and building up of the Church. .... These charisms, whether they be the more outstanding or the more simple and widely diffused, are to be received with thanksgiving and consolation for they are especially suited to and useful for the needs of the Church." (#12)

This is really a very important teaching for the Christian people. It tells them that God’s relationship with them involves much more than simply praying for favors and hoping that God answers them. That’s oftentimes what it has been for a lot of people. This Vatican II teaching emphasizes that God takes the initiative with us and bestows special graces that allow all the Christian people to assist and help one another. When we have the sudden idea to drop in and visit an elderly neighbor or take a surprise party basket to a single mother raising several children, we should see that as God’s Spirit taking the initiative and giving us a charism. These charisms are God taking the initiative in our personal relationship.

Besides emphasizing God’s initiative with us, this teaching on charisms also stresses that God wants us to help each other and is always giving us nudges to do so. Every act of outreach is building up the church, the People of God.

The notion of God’s "Spirit" (in Hebrew, Ruah) takes us into the very heart of God’s Mystery. The word, Ruah, also means breath, a breath of wind. Just as our own breath comes from within us, from our heart, so the Holy Spirit comes from the very heart of God. I was recently watching a medieval fantasy story in which there was a scene that reminded me of this closeness of the Holy Spirit and breath. An old woman was trying to teach a young woman some of the knowledge of living well and living faithfully. The old woman said: "You must always remember to keep your ears open and listen to God speaking. Just listen now." After a while the young woman says, "I only hear the wind." The old woman smiles and says, "How do you think God speaks to us?" Let’s be open to listen to the Spirit of God this Pentecost.

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Ascension Homily

Readings: Acts 1:1-11; Eph 1:17-23; Mt 28:16-20

The feast of the Ascension is one that consistently gets shortchanged by many believers today. Part of the problem lies in the fact that we have such literal descriptions of the event, such as we heard today from the book of Acts and also the gospel of Luke about Jesus "rising" up to the heavens. Added to that we have such magnificent paintings of the event by many noted artists: Perugino, Rembrandt, Andrei Rublev, and the one on the cover of this missalette (Il Garofolo). The problem lies in the fact that people stop there, seeing the Ascension as merely the way of getting Jesus from earth into heaven after his Resurrection.....and nothing else. Thus, the full meaning of the Ascension is shortchanged.

In the second reading we heard this morning, from Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians, we are given the real meaning, the basic faith significance of the Ascension: "God has put all things beneath his feet and gave him as head over all things...." Through his death and resurrection God has made Jesus Christ the beginning, the measure and end of all things. He is the yardstick by which the value of everything, everyone and every human action is measured. The primary meaning of Ascension is not physical, but in a total spiritual sense. It was "through him" that everything was made; "with him" that every action finds its value; "in him" that everything and everyone will be judged. The Ascension stands as one of the pivotal beliefs of Christianity.

It also encompasses the greatest mystery of the Christian faith. How did those first followers of the simple Galilean preacher in the first century, those who recoiled in horror and fear at his eventual and sudden crucifixion and death, come to make such an extravagant claim about him? We simply don’t know the exact process by which it happened. That’s why we can only assert that it happened as a gift of faith from God. But the fact of that claim is clearly attested in the oldest Christian literature we possess, the letters of St. Paul. There it is clearly attested that the early Christian community most certainly worshiped Jesus Christ as the Son of God, risen from the dead and made Lord of all things.

That faith continues to this day. We reaffirm it every time we celebrate the Eucharist. At the end of every Eucharistic prayer, when the priest raises the consecrated bread and wine, he prays: "Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, Almighty Father, forever and ever." Your "Amen" is reaffirming the Mystery of the Ascension! It is also affirming the Mystery of the gift of Faith.

But let’s go back to that thought that Jesus has been made the yardstick by which the value of everything, every one and every human action is measured. We need to take this beyond an intellectual affirmation of who Jesus is and what he does. It needs to be fully integrated into our spirituality and prayer life. One of the great developments that happened as a result of Vatican II was the entrance of this kind of spirituality in our Eucharistic prayers. As we shall pray in just a few moments: "While he lived among us he cured the sick, he cared for the poor and he wept with those who were grieving. He forgave sinners and taught us to forgive each other." We need to hear that often and begin to integrate it into our personal spirituality. That’s living the Mystery of the Ascension. And may we pray that it may be so for all of us!

Jesus' June Message

Dear apostles, humanity suffers. If you have eyes to see, then you will see that all around you there are children of God who have become disconnected from their Father. When a child suffers, that child is consoled if his Father is nearby and engaged with him. The child feels understood, even in his great pain. The child feels that there is ultimate safety, even when he faces temporary risk. To know that one is destined for ultimate safety provides for a disposition that withstands any difficulty, even the prospect of death. Beloved apostles, so close to Me, do you see that you have something that most do not? Do you see that your anticipation of ultimate safety provides you with a solid wall at your back which will, someday, absorb you into Itself? At that time, you will never be at risk again. You will be one of those who rejoices completely, not only in your own safety, but in the safety of all those around you. You will be absorbed into the Communion of Saints who now so perfectly understand the struggle of humanity that they work tirelessly and joyfully for the salvation of their brothers and sisters remaining on earth. When you finish your time on earth, you, too, will understand the great things that I accomplished through the little yes answers you gave Me on your journey through time on earth. You will say, yes, it was worth everything. You will say this, dear friends, regardless of the amount of suffering or sacrifice you endured. But, even as I rejoice in your heavenly heading, I urge you to strain forward in My service. Others should possess this confidence and security. If I told you that there was one person who was lost and that he could be found, would you rejoice with Me? If I told you that this person, currently suffering, could be claimed for heaven through your allegiance to Me on this day, would you give Me that allegiance? For one more day? This is what I am asking of you. Answer yes to Me. Give Me this day today. Watch, dear apostle, what I can do with your yes answer today. Look back and see what I have done with your yes answers in the past. You will see, in looking back, the barest truth about what I accomplished through you. Only in heaven will you see the full extent of what the Father has gained through your presence in His heart. Trust Me, while I obtain peace for you and peace for others through you.

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Homily for the 6th Sunday of Easter

Readings: Acts 8:5-17; 1 Peter 3:15-18; John 14:15-21

One of my favorite scriptural passages is in today’s second reading from the First Letter of Peter: "Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence." I suppose it was because it seemed to me that defined the whole purpose of my career as a professor of theology. My task was ultimately to help others come to the ability to give an explanation for their faith. In teaching seminarians I was instructing those who would later pass it on to their parishioners. In talks to parishes and various diocesan groups I was assisting them directly with the deeper grasp of their faith, "a reason for their hope."

I can still remember vividly my very first teaching experience. I was returning from Rome with my Masters degree in Systematic Theology in the summer of 1969, the year the School of Theology was having its first summer session. The session was open to seminarians, diocesan and religious priests, religious sisters and laity. Since classes in Rome finish later than in the United States, I was barely going to make it for the beginning of classes. I would arrive late one Saturday evening, have Sunday to get my first class ready, and begin on Monday morning. I had no idea what to expect when I walked into the classroom. When I finally did that Monday morning, I quickly looked over my class of around 25 participants and realized.....that I was the youngest person in the classroom. So I said: "Look at it this way. I have a lot of theoretical knowledge and you have a lot of pastoral experience. If we put those together, we can have a wonderful summer." And, indeed, we did.

It also didn’t take me very long to realize that learning the craft of teaching is a project in itself. My first years of theological education were blessed with a wonderful group of professors at St. Meinrad School of Theology. They gave stimulating lectures (most of them), encouraged class discussion and wanted students to think creatively. They were wonderful role models. But when I went to Rome to begin my Master’s degree studies, I encountered an entirely different system of education. There the professors read their lectures from prepared texts. There was no classroom discussion. Moreover, you could buy copies of the teacher’s lectures. Your final test questions were going to be taken directly from the material in the lectures. No creative thinking was encouraged. I was really puzzled by this educational system. It seemed so pedantic. Gradually I learned the reason for it. At various times in history when professors argued different points with each other, one of the tactics that was often employed was to get copies of the students’ notes that they had taken in class. In one case the professor’s opponents found evidence of over one hundred heresies in the students’ class notes. You begin to wonder just how much the students learn of what you actually intended to teach. Sometimes not a whole lot despite the best of your intentions.

When you go back to that scriptural passage I began with ("Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence)." you realize that the task of accomplishing that ultimately devolves on the individual believer himself or herself. The teacher is only a part-time guide. When I began teaching, I tried to set out to give the students an exact blueprint of directions to the desired goal. Somewhere along the way I realized that the most a teacher can do is point students in the general direction. And to encourage them to do their own hard work in being able to "give a reason for their hope." Let’s pray that all of us may work hard to be able to "give a reason for our hope."

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Homily for the 5th Sunday of Easter

Readings: Acts 6:1-7; 1 Pet 2:4-9; John 14:1-12

Over the years I have returned often to the first five chapters of the Book of Acts for inspiration; they provide an admittedly ideal glimpse into the life of the early Christian community—how they lived together in unity, harmony, sharing all things in common, praying and supporting one another. One passage says it all: "Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and simple hearts, praising God and having the good will of the people." (2:46-47) These same chapters, by the way, were very instrumental in the formation of early monasticism. The first monks felt they were trying to imitate that idyllic life together.

However, when we turn to chapter six in the Book of Acts, the tone changes considerably. The beginning of chapter six forms the first reading of today’s liturgy. In it the Hellenists complained that their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of goods. The apostolic leaders respond by appointing seven individuals to take care of this task. But this episode only forms the beginning of a whole series of difficulties, internal and external, that the early Christian community had to deal with. A good part of the remaining chapters of Acts shows how they struggled with those difficulties, the biggest of them being the full acceptance of Gentiles into the Christian movement. That struggle takes a long, long time.

In these Sundays after Easter we have been exploring how we can manifest a "living hope" in the Resurrection of Jesus. On previous sundays we examined actions of mutual respect, reverent behavior, and being perceptive to the gates of God’s presence in our lives. This episode of the neglected widows shows another way: by a commitment to work patiently, patiently for something that you deeply believe is good. If you know that there’s a good end to your desires, you will try and try again to achieve it. You will put up with temporary failures, snags and your own inner discouragement to keep going and try again. In so doing we witness to a living hope in the Resurrection of Jesus.

A book that I’m currently reading provides an excellent example of that determination. It’s by a young man, Kyle Kramer, and is titled A Time to Plant. By the way, he’s the assistant academic dean at St. Meinrad. In the book he tells his life story. It begins to get interesting when he’s in graduate school, studying to be ordained as an Episcopal priest. Slowly a vision of life forms in him of becoming an organic farmer. He had no experience of this outside of growing a small vegetable garden. But he eventually gives up his academic and ministry career to buy a small farm plot near his parents in southern Indiana. He learns farming by trial and error (lots of errors). He marries a wife with a similar ecological mindset. Knowing little about construction he sets out to build a house for himself, his wife and the twins that surprised them both. At times in building this house his discouragement is overwhelming. Often frustrated, he sits and cries for long periods of time in the winter while he’s trying to put the wiring and plumbing into the shell of a house. Battling again and again against discouragement and depression and the strains it puts on his marriage and family, he eventually manages to succeed in the task. But it takes a lot longer than he expected. He kept at it because he believed it was a good end and worthy of enduring effort.

If you know the end you seek is good, you will work at it patiently over and over. And in so doing, we do witness to a living hope in the Resurrection of Jesus.

Fr. Matthias Neuman's Homily for the 4thSunday of Easter

Readings: Acts 2:14,36-42; 1 Peter 2:20-25; John 10:1-10

In today’s gospel passage Jesus uses two images to describe himself, the Good Shepherd and the Gate. Both of them are symbols that contain overlapping realms of meaning. I personally find myself taken by the image of "Gate." But most of the significance of that term for me comes from my study of Jewish mysticism.

In Jewish mystical literature the image of "gate" possesses a highly charged meaning. A "gate" can be anything (a thing, a person, an event, a sensory perception) that opens you suddenly to the Divine Presence, the Presence of the Holy One. Gates can appear anywhere at any time. A particular event may on one occasion serve a gate and then never again. The whole purpose of spirituality is to teach a person to be always on the lookout for "gates to the Holy."

The modern Jewish spiritual writer, Lawrence Kushner, writes often about "gates" in his own experience. He writes: "Gates to holiness are everywhere. The possibility of ascent is all the time. Even at unlikely times and through unlikely places. There is no place on earth without the Presence. ... In a wilderness. Through a bush. From a circle. Nothing is beneath the dignity of being selected as a gate.

"One day I visited my daughter’s first grade class.... The air hung with a November chill. The children were working/playing in four or five groups. Someone shouted, ‘Look! It’s snowing outside.’ The groups crumbled as their members ran to the windows. No need for daily prayers here. Or on the proper blessing for seeing nature’s wonders for the first time. The cycle alternates between grand cathedrals and meditation amidst the trees of the forest. And we rediscover the fundamental truth. Gates to holiness are everywhere and all the time." (Honey from the Rock, p. 56)

I think we can make a valid application of this meaning of "gate" to Jesus. Jesus in many different ways serves as a gate to the divine. He reveals the hiddenness and depth of the Father. One aspect that really struck me during Holy Week was that the Passion of Jesus reveals a God who suffers with us. How profoundly that image can strike us. And how many people have been influenced by the image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus to come to believe in the compassion and mercy of God! There are so many images of Jesus that serve as gates or doorways to shape an understanding of God. One of my fellow students from San Anselmo in Rome, Anselm Grun (from the monastery Munsterschwarzach) recently wrote a spirituality book on Images of Jesus. He offers fifty different images of Jesus that have all been used as gates to better understand the Mystery of God. Some of them are really interesting: Jesus the dropout; Jesus the friend of women; Jesus the wild man; Jesus the clown; Jesus the glutton and drunkard; the Jesus who doesn’t let us rest. There’s much food for thought here.

Lastly, I’d like to connect this homily with the previous two Sundays after Easter. The main themes of those homilies developed the importance of mutual trust and reverent behavior as two ways of showing how we express a "living hope" in the Resurrection. In another sense both of them help us to be more prepared to be aware of "gates." Having respect for others and showing reverent behavior makes us more open and receptive to perceive "gates" where suddenly the presence of God happens. Let’s pray that each of us may find our "gates."