Previous Weeks' Homilies
2002 2003
Homily for Pentecost Sunday - C May 29, 2004
It is Pentecost Sunday, sometimes called “the birthday of the church,”
but we are in no mood to sing “Happy Birthday.”
It is the feast of the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the church,
but many feel as if the Holy Spirit has abandoned us.
This day is meant to be a celebration of joy,
but our hearts are heavy with loss and sadness,
with anger and rage, with confusion and doubt.
As I said at the prayer service we had on Tuesday night,
my task as your pastor is a difficult and sensitive one.
It’s like the task I have when a family in the parish
experiences the death of someone they love.
As a pastor I enter the family’s circle
at a time when their emotional response is scattered all over the board:
denial, anger, bargaining, depression...
and it’s my work as a pastor to be very sensitive
to the family’s loss, sorrow and grief,
and yet still find a way to offer the consolation of faith
and even a word of hope,
because my task is to step into that circle of sadness
and find a way to announce that Jesus is risen,
that his promise of life remains,
and that one day we shall see the one who died again,
when the mercy of God gathers us together
in the peace of his kingdom.
I always try to be aware of how difficult it might be for some
to hear words of hope and healing
when the wound of loss is so fresh.
I had a new experience of that reality on Thursday morning
at the meeting of the pastors of closing parishes
with Archbishop O’Malley.
The day began with a prayer service, which began with the hymn,
“Alleluia, sing to Jesus!”
Well, I couldn’t. I couldn’t sing “Alleluia” and I
couldn’t sing to Jesus.
I couldn’t make my sad heart sing the happy words.
I stood there, silent...
Then the second verse came round and it began:
“Alleluia! Not as orphans are we left in sorrow now, he is near us...”
This I couldn’t sing, but I needed to hear:
Jesus is still with us, still with me...
I let those words sink in.
I looked ahead to the third verse and this time the song came out
as I sang, through my tears,
“Alleluia! Bread of angels, you on earth our food, our stay...”
I cried and I sang because it’s the eucharist, the bread of angels,
our celebration at this table
that is at the heart of my life as a priest,
and at the heart of your lives as Christians,
and at the heart of our life as a parish.
It’s to this table that the Catholic people of West Concord
have brought their tears and joys, their hopes and fears,
for nearly a hundred years.
It’s at this table that we are nourished, by the body and blood of
Christ,
to be the people God made us to be
and to do the work the gospel calls us to do.
It’s at this table that you and I first met,
and will continue to meet
even through this painful time.
A moment ago I mentioned “denial, anger, bargaining and depression.”
Some of you will recognize these as
four of the five stages of death and dying,
four of the five stages of grief and bereavement.
I didn’t mention the fifth stage:
like Alleluia, it begins with an “A”
and is difficult to pronounce when we’re not yet ready to say it.
That fifth stage is acceptance.
Only a very few who have spoken to me this week are at that stage.
For most of us, it may be a long time in coming.
For a few more, it may not come.
We will need to be patient with each other
as we make our ways through these days, weeks and months.
But, like the pastor with the grieving family,
I must tell you, even today
-that there is life after death
-that who we are will survive the closing of doors
because no one can close our hearts.
Pray with me at the Lord’s table
where the bread of angels is our food and our stay,
pray with me that no one and nothing
will steal our faith, or rob us of hope,
or deprive us of the gifts which the Holy Spirit,
whose coming we celebrate today,
continues to shower upon us for our strength as God’s people,
and as our nourishment for doing God’s work.
We go now to this table that is at the heart of who we are.
The Lord has not abandoned us.
“Alleluia - sing to Jesus: he is near us, and he is with us...”
-Rev. Austin Fleming
“Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid...”
What an amazing statement for Jesus to make!
Does he really mean that?
Does he really mean
that we shouldn’t “let” our hearts be troubled or afraid?
Suppose you wake up in the middle of the night
and from your bed you can hear the dog in the kitchen
and it sounds like he’s going through the trash.
So you say to yourself,
“Hey, it’s just the dog - no need to be troubled or afraid.”
But what if then you suddenly remember,
“Whoa! We don’t HAVE a dog!”
Now, in the middle of the night,
you’ve got unexplained, suspicious noise in the kitchen
and in spite of what Jesus says
you’ve got a troubled and frightened heart.
Sometimes the things that trouble and frighten us the most
take us by surprise.
Right now, in our own parish community,
we’ve been taken by surprise
and many of us may find our hearts are troubled and frightened.
And that’s not to mention all the other fears and troubles
that burden the hearts of so many,
sometimes for years on end.
Think of how troubled are the hearts of the families
of the men and women serving in Iraq today.
Think of how frightened are the poor in Iraq
and in other countries where the violence of war is all around them.
Think of those who are troubled by their memories
and afraid of the future.
So how are we to hear the words of Jesus in this scripture?
“Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.”
What’s at the heart of Jesus’ encouragement here
is what’s at the heart of who Jesus is:
Jesus is God - with - us
in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health,
in our troubles and in our fears.
Jesus never leaves our side.
That doesn’t mean that Jesus takes away all our problems!
It means that he’s right by our side -
no matter what our problems may be,
no matter how troubled or afraid we might be.
Jesus is never MORE by our side than when he is with us in the eucharist,
in the sacrament of his body and blood in communion.
When we celebrate the eucharist
Jesus speaks to us in the scriptures.
When we celebrate the eucharist
Jesus is all around us, in his people,
who are the Body of Christ.
And when we celebrate the eucharist
Jesus is within us,
when we eat the bread of life and drink from the cup of salvation.
So it’s important for us to be with Jesus in the eucharist,
especially when we find that our hearts are troubled or frightened.
If our hearts are so burdened today
then we have come to precisely the right place.
We do not know where God’s Spirit will lead us,
but we know that wherever the Spirit draws us,
Jesus will be with us,
offering the peace he left us,
and the peace he gives us.
Rev. Austin Fleming
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