Acts 3:1315, 17–19; 1 John 2:1–5a; Luke 24:35–48

            Who is Jesus Christ? Who is Jesus? This is a question that everyone who encounters Christianity in whatever form must contend with. This was the question that the people of His time had to grapple with. Who is this man who claims an exclusive relationship with God the Father? Who is this man who we believe rose from the dead? Who is this man who, when asked if He was the Son of the Most High, responded, “I AM,” echoing the words that God uttered to Moses from the burning bush in the book of Exodus, claiming the name of God for Himself.

Over the last two centuries, some fashionable circles have made weak claims that this Jesus was a great moral teacher and a good man. But C.S. Lewis, in his book Mere Christianity, countered that we could not make such a claim of someone who claimed to be God by His words and actions. There are only three options for who Jesus is: Lord, liar, or lunatic. If He believed Himself to be the Son of God and equal to God but wasn’t, He was a lunatic. If He made these claims and didn’t believe them, He was a liar. But if He spoke the truth, He is Lord. So we each decide for ourselves just who Jesus is, and these are our only options.

            This was the challenge put to the people of Jerusalem following the resurrection and documented in our readings today, particularly what we read in the Gospel of Luke and the Acts of the Apostles. The Gospel of Luke and Acts were written by the same author, purported to be a physician by the name of Luke. While scholars don't necessarily agree that this is the same Luke mentioned by St. Paul 2 Timothy 4:11, they are almost unanimous that one person wrote both books, so unanimous that they refer to the books together as Luke-Acts—a two-part work for the same audience. Luke's work was an attempt to address some of the mysteries of the day, and these mysteries were central to the struggles of the early Church. They still grappled with this question. Who is Jesus? Is He Divine or human? How can a man be God? Or better yet, how could God become man and die? Different groups came up with different answers to the question. The Pharisees simply called Jesus an imposter. Other Jewish groups said He was an inspired man, but not God. Still others thought He was semi-divine but created. We call those sects Arian, for the most part. Still others believed that Jesus was Divine with no true humanity. These were the Docetists (doketists), who believed that Jesus was never truly a physical being.

            It's important not to confuse the Docetists with the Donutists. who believed in the divinity of Krispy Kremes. This heresy is still rampant among us.

            I might have made that last part up.

There was a heresy called Donatism, but it didn't have anything to do with donuts.

            In any case, one of the constant conflicts in the early Church was with the very question of who Jesus was. Was He God or was He man? And the answer to that question is       yes.

            Yes, Jesus is God and man—completely both at the same time. Now, do you see why this was a problem for the Jews? They struggled with this notion because God is supposed to be one, immortal, unlimited, and far beyond our understanding. One of their most sacred prayers, the Shema, attests to this:

            Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eluheinu, Adoni echad! (שמע ישראל יהוה אלהינו יהוה אחד)

            Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God. The Lord is one!

And they knew that God was beyond us, mysterious, ultimately unknowable. Yet a man we can know. A man is mortal, finite, and limited. How could a man be God? And how could a man crucified be both righteous and God when scripture says in Deuteronomy 21:23 that a man hung on a tree is cursed? To many of them, the story didn't add up. Some Jews who continued to follow Jesus' teachings still never accepted that Jesus was God. However, we also know that many Jewish followers of Jesus accepted that He was the Son of God and God incarnate. The Twelve Apostles were all Jewish, and we understand Christ's Divinity because of their teaching.

            The Church's understanding of Christ's revelation took time to clarify. The Gospel of John made clear what the Church understood about Christ by the end of the 1st century, and other Apostolic writings make clear that Jesus' Divinity is without question. But it was Jesus' existence as both God and man—as both Divine and human—that forced the Church to take time to understand and define this teaching.

            Some of the sects who struggled with Jesus’ dual nature did so because they thought of material as evil and that the material body was like prison for the soul. We refer to these sects as Gnostic, and many of them rejected the body and material creation as evil. Unfortunately, this heresy reappears with some frequency throughout history in various forms. In the modern era, it reappears in a sort of quasi spirituality that downplays the importance of the body. It leads to a misunderstanding of the nature of the resurrection as a true bodily return. It can lead to either a misuse of our physical appetites or a rejection of them as evil. It ultimately distorts the truth of what it means to be human.

Yet our faith insists on the goodness of the body. We believe in a God who became incarnate, who lived, ate, and performed all of the normal bodily functions we don’t like to talk about that those facts entail. But He also experienced pain and hunger. He experienced warmth and cold. He suffered under the most inhumane torture and execution. And He rose back to life after three days—body and soul. In the gospel accounts, He appeared to the disciples bodily after His death. In Luke, Jesus eats in front of the Apostles. In the Gospel of John, Jesus invites Thomas to touch his hands and examine the wound in His side. This is His insistence not only that we are raised from the dead spiritually but that we will be resurrected physically. And we profess that truth every Sunday in the creed.

But here’s the thing. Knowing the truth is important, but it’s not all we’re called to. We have a mission. We are called by Jesus Himself to call people to Him. Our  parish is embarking on an effort to foster evangelization among all of the faithful. The inspiration comes from 1 Peter 2:5: “[L]ike living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” This means that we are encouraging and prompting you personally to take on the mission of the Church, to be living stones that build up the Body of Christ and to help others become living stones, as my wife said to me the other day.

What does that mean for you? It means that we want each family in the parish to think of at least one person to encourage and invite to come to our parish and consider becoming Catholic. There might be someone you already know who is interested. Note that all are welcome. Our aim is not to test them but invite them.

We have 1400 families in our parish. If even only 10% do this, we could have 140 people in our OCIA program next year. This year, we had 66 people enter the Church, which is great! But imagine having 140? That would be a great blessing to the parish. We need to become those living stones that St. Peter mentioned and live out our faith in a concrete way, pun completely intended.

We are an Incarnational people. We are a sacramental people. Christ and Our Church are the greatest signs of our Sacramental and Incarnational faith. We believe that we will be raised bodily as Christ was. We believe in the sacramental efficacy of matter and form in baptism, in confirmation, and in the Eucharist which we will celebrate in just a few minutes. We are not merely spiritual. We are religious because we are body, soul, and spirit. And God looks down on us, His creation and the pinnacle of visible creation, and says that it is very good.

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Revised from 2019

Deut. 26:4–10; Rom. 10:8–13; Luke 4:1–13

There’s a song by Rascal Flatts that Gina and I have always considered our song, mostly because of what transpired in our early lives and how we came together. The chorus goes like this: “God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.” If you’ve heard my reversion story, you know that it’s had some interesting twists and turns, and Gina’s had her own broken road. I’m sure that many of you who have seen a few decades have your own broken-road story as well.

It’s fair to say that the people of Israel had their own broken road, one marked by poor decisions, good and bad fortunes, and finally, deliverance.

Isaiah 6:1–2a,3–8; 1 Cor. 15:1–11; Luke 5:1–11

I think many of us have had the experience of being called to do something we weren’t sure we were ready for. Maybe it was the first time you had to speak in public. Maybe it was the first time you got the ball and lined up to take a shot at a basket or a goal line.

Isaiah 42:1–4, 6–7; Acts 10:34–38;  Luke 3:15–16, 21–22

Reprised from 2021 with some revisions

Last week, we celebrated the Feast of the Epiphany. The scriptural context of our celebration was the visit of the Magi to the house of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph sometime after Jesus was born. But the feast itself represents something greater: the revelation of Christ to the Gentiles. At this moment, Jesus becomes manifest to the whole world as the Lamb of God.

Reprised from 2021

Zephaniah 3:14–18a; Philippians 4:4–7; Luke 3:10–18

Today we celebrate the third Sunday of Advent, which is called Gaudete Sunday, from the Latin translation of Philippians 4. "Rejoice in the Lord always." Always rejoice. We depart from the somber tone of this penitential season for a time to celebrate the light that is dawning on us. We also recently celebrated the Feasts of the Immaculate Conception and Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Isaiah 50:5–9a; James 2:14–18; Mark 8:27–35

Our epistle reading comes from James and is one of the well-known statements in scripture on faith and works. Sacred Tradition attributes this letter to the apostle James the Less, son of Alpheus (also known as Cleopas) and his wife, Mary, who was called the sister of the Blessed Mother Mary. It seems unlikely to me that a family would have two daughters named Mary. I think it's more likely Mary of Cleopas was the sister-in-law rather than a sister.

This is a letter I wrote to one of my favorite teachers of all time, Rutha Mims. I have made numerous attempts to find an address for her or a contact through one of her children over the last few years, but to no avail. In the early hours of the morning, when I should've been asleep, I was instead flipping through the list of things I need to do today, and one item that popped up was to finally do something with this letter. I figured that it couldn't hurt to post this on my blog.

Reprised from 2018

1 Kings 18:44; Ephesians 4:30–5:2; John 6:41–51

I have a confession to make. Sometimes I do not treat the Eucharist as seriously as I should. I’m not saying that I don’t believe in the Real Presence or that I approach the altar unworthily and knowingly with mortal sin on my soul. But sometimes I don’t reflect deeply enough on what it is that I am receiving, and I don’t think I’m alone when I say that I don’t always approach the Eucharist with the reverence it deserves.

Reprised from 2021

Amos 7:12–15; Eph. 1:3–14; Mark 6:7–13

You are a prophet. Note that I didn’t say, “Imagine that you are a prophet,” or “What if you were a prophet?” You are a prophet. Your baptism and confirmation join you to Christ—who is priest, prophet, and king. And since you are joined to the Body of Christ through baptism, that makes you priest, prophet, and king. The Catechism affirms that we share in these offices with Him in sections 897-913.

Genesis 3:9–15; 2 Corinthians 4:13–5:1; Mark 3:20–35

It’s been a long week, with my return from school, my work, and yesterday’s ordinations, so my homily will be brief today—unless, of course, the Holy Spirit takes hold of me. Then we could be here late into the evening. Or not.

There are two parallels in this weekend’s Old Testament and Gospel readings that I want to touch on.

Acts 1:1-11; Ephesians 1:17-23; Mark 16: 15–20

If you have read the four gospels, and I hope you have read them, you have probably noticed that each of the gospel writers has a unique perspective and remembers some details differently than the others. The first three, the synoptic gospels, are quite similar to each other, but they have some variations.
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