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. Aramaic was not very specific in these distinctions, and the name Miriam was so very common as it had Moses’s sister as the namesake.

            That relationship is why James the Less is called the brother of the Lord. Aramaic didn't have words for cousin or uncle either, and this lack of distinction very likely carried over into the Greek text when the early Christians transmitted these traditions. So this epistle is attributed to James the Less, the brother of the Lord. Sacred Tradition also identifies him as the first bishop of Jerusalem, and the Acts of the Apostles suggests the same. There’s also an extracanonical gospel called the Protoevangelium of James that makes note of Jesus’ siblings as step-siblings rather than children of the Blessed Mother. This writing turned up in the mid-second century, so it’s an interesting tradition but not Divine Revelation.

            Martin Luther didn't care for this letter and called it the "epistle of straw" and "unworthy of an apostle." He particularly didn't care for this letter because it explicitly links faith and works to each other. Luther wanted to say that works were of no use, and that faith alone is what saves. But this entire letter talks about the necessity of joining our faith to our actions—that faith with no movement toward justice is not true faith. James writes in chapter 2:18: 18, “Demonstrate your faith to me without works, and I will demonstrate my faith to you from my works.” Faith, if it does not result in works, is dead. Our action is what demonstrates whether the faith we proclaim is the faith we truly hold. James is saying, "Walk the walk. Don't just talk the talk." We must do both together. Catholics are not either/or people but both/and people. We must both have faith and demonstrate it with works. I have to admit that I fail at this on many occasions, but I am trying to do better, as we all should.

            In the gospel reading from Mark, Jesus asks, "Who do people say that I am?" The Gospel of Mark is frequently understood to be the first-hand experience of St. Peter essentially dictated to John Mark, a disciple and follower of Peter. Mark is also mentioned in the book of Acts as the son of yet another Mary.

What is unique about Mark, and what differentiates his presentation from the same accounts in Matthew and Luke, is just how harsh Jesus is with the twelve apostles, and the unflattering light in which Mark portrays them. In this passage, Jesus asks, "Who do people say that I am," and Peter responds correctly, "You are the Christ." But moments later, when Jesus explains what His anointing really means, Peter tries to correct Him, and Jesus comes down hard.

            "Get behind me, Satan!"

            That's not much of an endorsement, and it's nothing like how Matthew presents the same account. Peter says, "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God." And Jesus says, "Blessed are you Simon Bar Jonah.... And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it." Why does Matthew have the whole "gates of the kingdom" business and why does Mark's account leave that statement out? Why would an account from the perspective of the first of the apostles, Peter, only portray that same apostle in such a negative light?

            I suggest that this difference subsists in St. Peter's desire to walk the walk first and foremostthat he had no interest in being the first of the Twelve. St. Peter wanted to live his faith visibly and be an example. If you recall, this Peter when first confronted by Christ in Luke 5:8, says, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man." In 1 Peter 5, he refers to himself as an elder among elders. Peter is clearly the leader of the Twelve, but anywhere in scripture that his story is told, he is presented as a bumbler and a sinner. And I think that was by choice. He recognized his need for redemption, and he responded by making himself less, by trying to divert attention from his role as the first of the twelve and by letting his actions be the measure and example of his faith.

Seeking attention does no good whatsoever, if the whole point is our personal glorification. If I act simply to draw attention to myself, I'm just a clashing cymbal or a noisy gong, as St. Paul says in 1 Corinthians. Why do I act at all? Why do I attempt any good? Is it because of my faith, or is it vanity? Is it because I believe what I profess? Our faith must be borne out in action, and our actions must... must reflect our faith. There is not either/or for us in this case as Catholics. Our faith and our action must be one, or neither is sufficient. But simply proclaiming adherence to the Catholic faith without action is worthless. We have to commit our faith through action. Christ wants our hearts, heads, and bodies. We have to give ourselves completely to Him. After all, that's what He did for us up there and what He does for us weekly right there.

            St. James doesn't give us a whole lot of wiggle room, nor does our Savior. He's the one who says in this gospel, "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me." Well, what else does that mean? Does it mean that we simply say, "Yes, that’s true." and be done?

            Or does it mean something else?

            It means something else. It means that we not just say but do. It means that we put our faith and lives, if needed, on the line—whether that means feeding the poor and serving the homeless when it is not permitted, or when it means opposing unjust laws forced on us by government or courts.

            The time for sitting on the fence is fast drawing to the close, so we need to climb down to one side or the other. We need to make a choice—whether we will be authentic witnesses of Christ, or whether we will simply offer Christian sounding platitudes. We need to live our faith in word and deed. Our families need it. Our nation needs it. Our world needs it.


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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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