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Homily stories

08 May 2011 - Third Sunday of Easter, Cycle A

Dorothy followed the Yellow Brick Road through the Land of Oz and came upon all sorts of signs pointing to different ways back home. In the end, she had the secret to getting back to Kansas right at her heels. But, as the Good Witch of the North tells her, she couldn't have been told the secret to achieving her heart's desire. She had to discover it for herself. Jesus' disciples on the road to Emmaus and all Christian disciples down through the ages have a similar challenge before them as they skip along on their spiritual journeys. The secret to finding their way home to God lies within their burning hearts, but they don't discover that until they've taken a few wrong turns and been set straight by the collection of characters they encounter along the way.

Road to Emmaus spiritual journey

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Homily stories

14 Oct 2018 - Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B

A doctor I know finds today’s gospel about the rich man going away sad the most disturbing of all Jesus’ stories and parables. He has notes and comments scratched alongside these verses in his Bible, and his personal journal is filled with pages of reflections about what it takes to follow Jesus. The doctor, who happens to be a very generous person, is constantly looking for a catch, a way out of Jesus’ command to the rich young man. But there is no catch—except to say the gospel isn’t necessarily about wealth and personal possessions. It is about our spiritual journey and what it takes to progress. For some of us, money gets in the way; for others, it is a desire to be liked or admired or perfect or in control that prevents us from taking that last leap and trusting in God for all our joy and happiness. Jesus loves the rich man, and the rich man is trying to do his best to be a good and decent person, but Jesus is telling him and us: “Don’t hold anything back. Love God with your whole heart, mind, and soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.” Like the rich man and my doctor friend, most of us end up sad after hearing this gospel because we know we still have some major hurdles in our spiritual journey.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

jesus and the rich young man Wealth Possessions spiritual journey

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Exploring the word

08 Mar 2020 - Second Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

The Lenten terrain keeps changing. Last week, we crossed a desert. This week, we scale a mountain. No one said the journey of faith would be easy. But neither were we warned that this level of athleticism would be required. Is the spiritual path really as challenging as the metaphors would make it seem? The answer is—hopefully. If we’re doing it right, we ought to be flexing some serious spiritual muscle. The church has long used the language of journey and movement to describe the life of faith. The notion that our time on earth is a pilgrimage en route to the Beatific Vision is older than Dante, more traditional than Pilgrim’s Progress. Luke’s gospel was the first Christian story to be structured around the journey theme, tracing the ministry of Jesus as a long road between Galilee and Jerusalem, the epicenter of Judaism. The format worked so well that Luke employed it for Acts, too, transcribing the way of the early church from Jerusalem to Rome at the heart of the ancient world. As Luke would have it, the Good News of Jesus Christ conquered the world in two giant steps: first Palestine, then the Empire itself. It seems so simple the way Luke tells it. But we know that the gospel must actually confront the world in three giant steps: first Jerusalem, then Rome, and finally the individual human heart. That last step, it turns out, is the biggest one of all. That is where the leap of faith meets its greatest obstacle: me. Or you, as the case may be. The sinner, by any other name. Which is one reason why the season of Lent is so vital to the church. It limbers us up to take that breathtaking leap beyond the self. Some of us may need a personal trainer to get in shape. Spiritual growth Many of us, it must be admitted, are not on a spiritual journey much of the time. We are spiritually parked, as it were: in the pew where we always sit, or stuck in neutral in the same old habits of sin. Oh, our sinfulness is pretty run-of-the-mill, nothing to get excited about. We’re greedy, lazy, selfish, and judgmental. And, of course, dishonest, because we rarely admit that we’re greedy, lazy, and so on. Not even in the confessional, when you get right down to it. Most of our habits of sin may seem too tiresome to mention. But they are obstacles to the spiritual life all the same, because they keep us from embracing the exuberant fullness of the love of God urgent to be expressed in every moment of history. Being spiritually parked, we don’t “walk by faith,” so we don’t grow in faith either. Instead, we acquire sacraments and accumulate prayer hours as if they were so much religious flab; not all calories are created equal, as we know. We may grow fat with pious practice, but that’s not the same as achieving spiritual strength. Strength comes when religious practice translates into grace-in-action. In order to get somewhere, obviously, we have to go somewhere. As easy as that is to understand, it is not always so easy to do. The time-honored practices of Lent—fasting, prayer, and almsgiving—jump-start the heart muscle. Fasting is a great foundational exercise: Get hungry, somewhere in your well-fed American life, and know how small, fragile, and vulnerable you are! Hunger puts us on the ground floor of humility, that indispensable virtue. It teaches us to be still and know who God is—and who we are—by displacing us from the center of power and sufficiency. Self-knowledge moves us next to prayer, which opens communication between God and us. Prayer is a two-way street, of course; we don’t do all the talking. Our newfound skill of humility ought to enable us to do some thoughtful listening, and our prayer should be richer and more productive than usual. Finally, as the movement of the Spirit in us grows more agile, we will naturally be led to share. Generosity is not an afterthought to fasting and prayer, but the direct response of knowing how deeply loved and provided for we are. Trusting in God, we can give ourselves away with greater freedom than ever. Money, time, skill, presence—we have more than we need, and furthermore, we know why it came to us in the first place. Transfiguration Climbing that Lenten mountain with Jesus seems like a lot of hard work. But what do we encounter at the summit of the spiritual mountain? Something called Transfiguration. It means we see what was always there, but hidden before. We see truly. We see as God sees. This new vision is given to those who are willing to go there to get it. It won’t come to us if we don’t climb the mountain. It won’t come to those who are spiritually parked and waiting for enlightenment to be handed out the drive-thru window like a happy meal. Eucharist does not come in fast food varieties. Eucharist is slow food. It takes a lifetime of remaining steadfast on this journey to absorb it completely. But if we want a preview of coming attractions, if we want to know where this life is leading us, if we want what the disciples got on top of the mountain, we can have our glimpse of Transfiguration. It is a sustaining vision that can lend us courage in our most difficult hours. It is a privileged view that can teach us what no preacher can say better. The Transfiguration reveals the God in the flesh, and the glory in the humility. Transfiguration reminds us that Christ is hidden in surprising places, and that is why we fast, pray, and give alms. Christ is hiding right now in the poor ones. If we want to see him there, we have to take this path and climb this mountain. Applying the word Hills brought low We might prefer a straighter, flatter route to holiness. Exercise is not always welcome, be it physical or spiritual. But never fear: The Lenten terrain will keep changing—desert one minute, mountain the next. Who knows what next Sunday will bring? (The prepared homilist does!) If we keep one foot in front of the other, our faithfulness will be rewarded by glorious moments along the way, when Christ springs brilliantly into view. Related scripture links Journey theme in Luke: Luke 2:4, 2:22, 3:4-5, 3:41, 4:1; 5:11, 8:1-3, 9:3-6, 9:23, 9:51-62, 23:26, 24:13-32 Walking by faith: 2 Cor. 5:7 Be still and know God: Ps. 46:11 Other spiritual mountains: Horeb/Sinai: Exod. 3:1-10, 19:11-25; 1 Kings 19:8-18; Mount Zion: Isa. 2:2-5, 60:1-6, 62:11-12, 66:7-13; mountain of choosing: Mark 3:13-19; Sermon on the Mount: Matt. 5:1-7:29; Mount of Olives: Matt. 24-25; Great Commission: Matt. 28:16-20

Authors Alice Camille

spiritual journey spiritual strength lent practices Fasting Prayer almsgiving Transfiguration vision enlightenment

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Homily stories

12 Sep 2021 - Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B

At the beginning of 2020, my diocese declared it the Year of the Eucharist. Ironic, since after that Ash Wednesday, it was the year I went without it. But I spent that year caring more about it than I ever have. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, they say—and I repented taking it for granted. During the pandemic, I watched Mass on YouTube every Sunday, and for the first time learned what an Act of Spiritual Communion was. Saying those words before a TV screen—“I desire to receive you into my soul . . . come at least spiritually into my heart . . . Never permit me to be separated from you.”—I encountered Christ present in the Eucharist in a way I couldn’t have imagined without being present myself. Even though I’d spent more than a year preparing for my next Communion—on an isolated spiritual journey courtesy of a plague of biblical proportions—I wanted to treat it like my first, and as the day got closer, I doubled down on prayerfully getting ready. It wasn’t until the first Sunday after Pentecost 2021 that I returned to Mass. Ordinary Time seemed so fitting as I started to feel normal again. Except I wasn’t the same as before. Having been denied, I wanted to follow him more.

Authors Jennifer Tomshack

Eucharist communion sacrifice pandemic spiritual journeys

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Homily stories

13 Oct 2024 - Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B

A doctor I know finds today’s gospel about the rich man going away sad the most disturbing of all Jesus’ stories and parables. He has notes and comments scratched alongside these verses in his Bible, and his personal journal is filled with pages of reflections about what it takes to follow Jesus. The doctor, who happens to be a very generous person, is constantly looking for a catch, a way out of Jesus’ command to the rich young man. But there is no catch—except to say the gospel isn’t necessarily about wealth and personal possessions. It is about our spiritual journey and what it takes to progress. For some of us, money gets in the way; for others, it is a desire to be liked or admired or perfect or in control that prevents us from taking that last leap and trusting in God for all our joy and happiness. Jesus loves the rich man, and the rich man is trying to do his best to be a good and decent person, but Jesus is telling him and us: “Don’t hold anything back. Love God with your whole heart, mind, and soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.” Like the rich man and my doctor friend, most of us end up sad after hearing this gospel because we know we still have some major hurdles in our spiritual journey.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

jesus and the rich young man spiritual journeys

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