My stomach felt like an empty pit. There could not possibly have been anything left in the tank. I had already been on the toilet for 10 minutes, but I had not built up enough confidence to walk away. Diarrhea for reasons beyond our control is bad enough. This time it was, I admit, completely self-inflicted.
A few days earlier, I had started a bread-and-juice fast for the season of Lent. Three times a day, at normal meal times, I had a simple piece of bread (preferably multigrain, as my body begged for nutrients) and a glass of fruit juice. I was also drinking lots of water, and it was going straight through me. Fasting always sounds like a brilliant idea before… [This is the beginning of an essay recently published by America. Continue reading here.]
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. He now is studying in Rome at the Pontifical Gregorian University. (Photo credit: www.jesuits.org)
What we are now; what we will be. What has not yet been revealed; what we already know.
The First Letter of John speaks to our present identity and eternal destiny.
“Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” (1 John 3:2)
The fulfillment of God’s promises, the reign of God, is “not yet” and “already present.”
At the beginning of his ministry, Jesus said, “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand.” (Mk 1:15) Filled with the Holy Spirit, Jesus stood in the synagogue in Nazareth and announced the prophesy of Isaiah “to bring glad tidings to the poor … to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord,” and he said, “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Lk 4:18-21)
Throughout his ministry Jesus fulfilled this promise through his teaching and healing and liberation from every form of oppression. Even in his death, God raised him, showing the power of God even over death itself.
Now the disciples, having received the gift and power of the Holy Spirit, continue this ministry of Jesus. In the Acts of the Apostles, Peter stands trial for invoking the name of Jesus to heal a man who could not walk (Acts 4:9), and later Peter heals Aeneas, who was paralyzed, and he raises Tabitha from the dead, (Acts 9:32-42)
It seems that what John writes about – “we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” – is already present in these disciples. They encountered the Risen Lord, it transformed them, and now they are like him. They too are fulfilling the vision of Isaiah to heal and liberate.
So what about us? Have we too received the power of the Spirit and continue these ministries of healing and even raising from the dead? Is “being like him” only a future promise or also a present reality?
What have you seen and heard and experienced that indicates the fulfillment of God’s reign of justice and peace? Maybe, at times, it is not as obvious as the healings we hear about in Acts. But perhaps the healing and raising that we do experience is no less real or significant.
I think of friends and family who have nearly died or even had near-death experiences and lived to tell the story; of people who survived cancer, and of people who did not but whose presence continues to be felt; of people whose lives have been healed and saved through Alcoholics Anonymous, or social service agencies; of experiences where, even for a moment, loneliness or despair is lifted. I think of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which for me and many others is a place of powerful encounter with the mercy of God, a God who forgives and gives new life.
Yes, it is true that we await the day of fulfillment, the “new heaven and a new earth,” when God will “make all things new” and “wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain.” (Rev 21:1-5) But we also experience signs of this fulfillment today, through the power of the Holy Spirit, in the name of Jesus Christ.
“We are God’s children now.”
Note from the editor:This blog post is a version of a homily that Father Luke Hansen, SJ, preached April 22, 2018 (4th Sunday of Easter, Year B) in Rome.
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. He now is studying in Rome at the Pontifical Gregorian University. (Photo credit: www.jesuits.org)
The book of Revelation is a profound example of resistance literature.
The author, a disciple named John, is responding to a crisis: the severe persecution of the Church in the late first century. He himself is in exile, in Patmos, a Roman penal colony and island located between Greece and Turkey. The vision John receives and shares with us assures us that God has already triumphed, and will triumph, over the forces of evil. Revelation is a book of hope and consolation and challenge for believers to remain faithful – as God is faithful – to the end.
The book of Revelation begins with a blessing, a special message for all of us: “Blessed is the one who reads aloud this prophetic message, and blessed are those who listen to it and heed what is written in it, for the appointed time is near.” (Revelation 1:3)
This reading from Revelation refers to “the time of great distress.” We live in this time. Previous generations have too, but we can certainly claim it.
I’ll suggest a few signs of this “great distress,” but I also invite you to think about this reality from your own perspective and social location. A few examples: climate change and ecological destruction; mass migration and forced displacement (now involving 250 million people globally); violent conflicts and even the increasing threat of nuclear war; and the widespread presence of sexual violence, from body shaming to sexual harassment to rape, especially against women and girls.
The statistics are harrowing. I’ll offer one as an example. How many girls alive today have experienced forced sexual acts? According to United Nations, 120 million girls. The #MeToo campaign has effectively spotlighted – in a personal and compelling way – how sexual violence affects those closest to us: sisters, daughters, friends and colleagues.
“It is the time of great distress.” I have named a few examples. There are many more.
I invite you to consider: What parts of the “great distress” touch your heart, your conscience? Whose cries do you hear?
In Revelation, the destructive forces are symbolized by the four winds. We need no such symbol today. We know that this time of distress is our own making.
In Revelation, the great multitude cries out “Salvation comes from our God and from the Lamb.” Our hope is in God. And God has mercifully shown us the path of salvation: it is the way of the Beatitudes.
How must we walk together in the time of great distress? To be poor in spirit, meek, merciful, and clean of heart. To mourn, to hunger and thirst for righteousness, to make peace. It sounds like more resistance literature in our time of crisis.
The saints walk this path. Some are canonized, many others unrecognized, even more living among us. I invite you to consider: Who is a saint in your life – among the living or the dead – who has taught you the path of the Beatitudes, and how to live as a faithful disciple amid the great distress?
John describes these saints as a “great multitude,” too numerous to count, “from every nation, race, people and tongue.” They “wear white robes,” and their foreheads are “marked with a seal.” The seal is a mark of property, of belonging, and of protection.
We are among this multitude. We come from many nations. In our baptism we are marked with the sign of the cross; our heads are anointed with chrism, the oil of salvation; and we are “robed in white” as a sign of our Christian dignity. In our baptism God claims us, we become children of God (1 John), and we belong to God. And each time we share in the Eucharist, we too are “washed in the blood of the Lamb.” We are made one in Christ.
So, in this time of great distress, let us always remember our identity as children of God, sinners loved by God, called to walk the path of the Beatitudes, knowing we are among saints who cheer us on (Hebrews 12:1). This is the path of resistance that we walk together.
Note from the editor:This blog post is a version of a homily that Father Luke Hansen, SJ, preached October 31, 2017 (Vigil of the Solemnity of All Saints) in Rome.
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. He now is studying in Rome at the Pontifical Gregorian University. (Photo credit:www.jesuits.org)
Recall a moment from your life when God felt very close; when you had a powerful experience of God’s presence. It might have taken place at home, at work, in church, in a classroom, on a retreat or in nature. What do you remember of the experience? How old were you? Where were you? Did it involve others? What gift did God give you in that experience?
The great feast the Church celebrates — the Body and Blood of Christ — places great importance on memory and invites us to remember all the things God has done for us, especially what God has done for us in Christ.
Each time we celebrate Mass, we gather to remember. This helps us to avoid what Pope Francis has called “spiritual amnesia.” When we have spiritual amnesia, we lose our memory of our personal salvation history and our “first love” with the Lord. When we have spiritual amnesia, we forget who we are and to whom we belong, and other things can begin to replace a living relationship with God.
In the Book of Deuteronomy, Moses exhorts the people, “Remember!” (8:2-3, 14-16). “Remember how for 40 years now the Lord has directed your journey.” Moses says to the people, “Do not forget! Do not forget the Lord, your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt.” You faced dangers in the desert, and God directed your journey. You were thirsty, and God provided water. You were hungry, and God fed you with manna.
In the Gospel according to John, Jesus himself invokes this memory (6:51-58). He tells the Jewish crowds, “Your ancestors … ate [manna in the desert] and still died.” But “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever.”
At the Last Supper, itself a meal to remember God’s saving act in the Passover, Jesus said to his disciples, “This is my body. Take and eat. This is my blood. Take and drink.”
And then he said, “Do this in memory of me.”
For many years, when I heard “Do this in memory of me,” I thought of it simply as a commandment to reenact the meal, to have Mass, and to do it often. That is certainly part of it. But Jesus is also saying: I have been blessed, broken and shared. I have given my life for others.
Do this in memory of me.
You, my disciples, must also be blessed, broken and shared. Imitate me. Offer yourself to others. Love others as I have loved you.
Do this in memory of me.
This memory, made present in each Mass, is demanding. It took Jesus to the margins of his society and religious tradition where he loved and showed welcome to outcasts and sinners, and it took him to the cross.
Do this in memory of me.
Who in your life is a witness to a life blessed, broken and shared? Who offers themselves generously to others?
There are so many ways that disciples imitate Christ in this kind of generosity: in the gift of self to family, a partner, children, other loved ones or a friend; in a job or career; in the works of mercy and other acts of kindness done quietly and humbly.
At the same time, how are we called to greater love, generosity and sacrifice in memory of him?Here’s one thought: What bothers your conscience at work, at home, in your neighborhood or in our church? What do you want to do but don’t, because it seems too big to tackle or too big of a personal risk to take on? When we take that first step, the God who has always been faithful to us will be with us.
Remember what God has done for you, for us. The God who has been powerfully present in our lives. The God who frees us, loves us. The One who comes to us in bread and wine to nourish us, to give us life, at each Mass, and always.
Note from the editor:This blog post is a version of a homily that Fr. Luke Hansen, SJ, preached at the Church of the Gesu on June 18, 2017 (Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood) in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. He now is studying in Rome at the Pontifical Gregorian University. (Photo credit:www.jesuits.org)
There was a woman who was kind, patient, loving and compassionate. She had a big family. In her later years, in her retirement, she explored new ways of loving and staying in touch with friends and family, especially her grandchildren.
She surprised everyone by signing up for Facebook. In fact, she began to use the platform quite actively. Her friends grew in number. She saw it as a ministry. She promised prayers for the sick and wrote encouraging notes on walls or sent them private messages. She posted many tidbits of wisdom and also spiritual reflections that really moved her. Her posts were always compassionate, positive and hopeful.
She posted so often that she frequently appeared in others’ news feeds. It was interesting to see how people responded to her. Some simply ignored her posts. Others thought she posted too much and unfriended her. Others would “like” a post but didn’t engage it. Others read it and thought it was worth sharing on their wall. Once in awhile, people would really take the message to heart — it would change them — and the post would go viral. One of her posts had thousands of shares, tens of thousands of comments and a million “likes.”
So it is with the Kingdom of God. Jesus spoke to Galilean farmers; hence, he uses the images of a sower, seed, rich soil and an abundant harvest (Matthew 13:1-9). Today he speaks to us in our technological age; people who are connected through email, Facebook and other forms of social media. God is the older woman in the parable who is very active on social media. God is present and very active in our world and our lives, always laboring for us and touching our lives, always loving and freeing us.
How do we respond to these signs of God’s presence and love in our lives? Some ignore it and even go so far as to unfriend God or deactivate their account altogether. Perhaps they’ve been hurt and have a hard heart, closed off to others. Some notice God’s blessings and “like” them but respond no further. We are too busy. The engagement is shallow. Others notice God’s presence, savor it and “share” it with others. Still others let God’s blessings touch and transform their hearts, and even send a note of response. When we are touched by God’s love and share it with others, it can go viral!
God sows the Word generously: through the Scriptures we hear proclaimed, through the bread and wine we consume, through community, family, friends, creation and many other ways. Do we pay attention to God’s presence, God’s Word, in the many ways it comes to us? Are we receptive to it? How is our soil? Do we allow for the necessary quiet in our lives? What is the depth of our response? Do we ignore God, deactivate our accounts, simply “like” or “share” the blessing? Or, do we truly open ourselves to transformation?
Your engagement with “Messy Jesus Business” is evidence of the good soil within you. The Word is bearing fruit in our lives. Jesus tells us that the seed that falls on good soil produces fruit in abundance, thirty, sixty or a hundredfold. It can go viral. Let us pray for the grace to always be open to God’s presence and love and to let it touch our hearts and transform us.
Note from the editor:This blog post is a version of a homily that Father Luke Hansen, SJ, preached at the Church of the Gesu on July 16, 2017 (Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time) in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. He now is studying in Rome at the Pontifical Gregorian University. (Photo credit:www.jesuits.org)
I have a confession to make: I kind of like Tim Tebow, the professional football player turned professional baseball player. I respect him. In fact, I admire him.
Since he played for football teams other than my favorite, the Green Bay Packers, I’m a little shy to admit this. Also, he has lots of critics. For some, the criticism is strictly about his football skills or lack thereof. Others don’t like the way he speaks freely, openly and consistently about his relationship with Jesus. He is often dismissed as a Jesus freak, a religious radical.
But when I look at his witness with some openness and empathy, I find it admirable. Win or lose, he kneels in prayer. Win or lose, he praises and gives thanks to God. Most importantly, he lives his faith off the field; extraordinarily generous with his resources. He knows these resources are not his alone but gifts of God to be shared. He is not perfect, but he keeps Christ at the center of his life.
When I heard Paul’s letter to the Christians in Rome of the challenge to keep Christ at the center of our lives, I thought of Tim Tebow. Paul writes that we are baptized into Christ, so we must live “for God in Christ Jesus” (6:3-4, 8-11). Do we live for God, above all else? Do we keep Christ at the center of our lives? Do we love anything more than we love Christ: family members, friends, career, work, status, reputation, money, iPhones or our favorite sports team?
In Matthew 10:37-42, Jesus speaks to the twelve about this demand of discipleship: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me …” Jesus is not telling us to not love our fathers or mothers, sons or daughters. In fact, he is blessing and reinforcing the special bond of love that exists between parent and child, brother and sister. He invites us to embrace this love. But then he challenges us to extend it and expand it, and to keep him at the center of it.
The challenge in the Second Book of Kings (4:8-11, 14-16) is to keep Christ at the center by showing hospitality as does the influential woman who shows kindness and hospitality to the prophet Elisha, taking initiative by arranging a room and meals for him.
And in Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus says that this hospitality should also be extended to “strangers,” to immigrants. Jesus says that when we welcome strangers we welcome him, and it is the basis of the final judgment.
Does our church practice the hospitality that each of us has received from God? Is the church “a living witness” – as we pray in the Eucharistic Prayer – to this hospitality? What are the boundaries of welcome, and who defines these boundaries?
Have you ever felt unwelcome in the church, or that your gifts were unwelcome because of your gender, race, class, legal status, marital status, unique family, sexual orientation or the language you speak? If so, I apologize. This lack of welcome is wrong. It is a sin. It is a failure in our call to show God’s hospitality.
In order to more fully witness to God’s love and hospitality, it is important that we listen to anyone who has not felt welcome, to listen with openness and compassion, without judgment, and to commit ourselves to a different way of relating, loving – following the prophetic example of Jesus.
And we must be critical in our hospitality. Even in offering hospitality and welcome, we can remain in a position of domination and privilege over another. We can be condescending or paternalistic. Can we be totally open to the other and willing to learn from them too, recognizing that they have something important to contribute?
Jesus embodied this hospitality. And he continues to welcome us and embrace us by feeding us, nourishing us with his Word and Sacrament. Let us always keep him at the center of our lives and share his hospitality with others.
Note from the editor: This blog post is a version of a homily that Fr. Luke Hansen, SJ, preached at the Church of the Gesu on July 2, 2017 (Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time) in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. In October, he will begin a licentiate in sacred theology at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. (Photo credit:www.jesuits.org)
On June 20, Pope Francis visited the gravesites of two Italian priests who were well-known for the ministry among the poor and their opposition to war. These men were prophets. When I think of someone like them, closer to home, it’s Joshua Casteel. Joshua grew up in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, enlisted in the United States Army shortly after 9/11, was trained as an interrogator, learned Arabic and interrogated about 130 prisoners at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq.
One day, a Muslim prisoner asked Joshua how he could reconcile his work as an interrogator with the command of Jesus to love one’s enemies. Joshua felt the prisoner was a hypocrite but the question cut to his heart. It touched his conscience. Joshua started to ask how he could become a peacemaker and whether there is a path outside the cycle of violence.
Joshua became a conscientious objector and received an honorable discharge from the army in 2005. He went on to write plays and publish books about war and conscience and the Gospel call to love our enemies. He even went to divinity school and considered becoming a Jesuit. (I met him when I was a Jesuit novice.) In 2012, at age 32, Joshua died of lung cancer, despite never having smoked. His family believes the cancer resulted from his six months near a burn pit in Iraq.
God called Joshua to be a prophet, and he responded to this call.
We are baptized into Christ who is priest, prophet and king. Today, we are invited to reflect on the call of a prophet and our own call to be prophets.
God created out of love. There is abundance — enough for everyone. But there is also human greed, violence and broken relationships. God calls prophets to say “This world, this violence, is not what God intends. You were created out of love, called to love each other, even our enemies.”
Jeremiah was born into this world of sin and injustice. People had turned from God and neglected the most vulnerable in society, widows and orphans. God chose Jeremiah to call people to fidelity. Jeremiah protested, “I am too young!” God reassured him: “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you … See, I place my words in your mouth.”
God told Jeremiah to announce to the people “Reform your ways, or disaster will come upon you.” It was not a popular message! People plotted against him. Jeremiah was scourged and imprisoned. He remained faithful to his call, but was persecuted. He was dejected and angry.
Jeremiah laments: “You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped.” Jeremiah wanted to quit. (He tried to run away three times.) But, he said, “I must cry out.” The call is “as if fire is burning in my heart.”
Jeremiah was able to express his grief, anger and questions to God. Can we? In the end, Jeremiah praised God (“Sing to the Lord, praise the Lord”). Even when we do not understand what is happening, and we are angry with God, can we also trust God and praise God? When we gather to worship, we can express doubt, lament, pain and anger. These feelings are part of a journey of faith.
What injustice in our world, our neighborhoods, troubles your conscience? For Joshua Casteel, it was the treatment of prisoners at Abu Ghraib, the violence of terrorism and the U.S. response: the “war on terror.”
What about for you? What troubles your conscience? The deep division in our society and the lack of charity and dialogue? The lack of respect for life from conception to natural death? A “justice” system quick to send people to prison, separating fathers, mothers and children from their families? An economic system that creates a great disparity of wealth? Violence against women in its many forms: street harassment, rape, exclusion?
Are you angry that God does not seem to intervene? Can you express that anger to God?
To be a prophet is not the call of a few. We are all baptized into Christ who is priest, prophet and king. What is the fire burning within you? How is God inviting you to respond, in small ways or large ways? How are your gifts and professional skills at the service of those most in need?
In the Gospel according to Matthew (10: 26-33), Jesus commands two things: “fear no one” and preach boldly: “speak in the light,” “proclaim from the rooftops”). Jesus reminds us: God cares for each insignificant sparrow. How much more for you! God knows and loves you and sends the Spirit to empower and strengthen you in your prophetic call. How will you respond?
Note from the editor: This blog post is a version of a homily that Father Luke Hansen, SJ, preached at the Church of the Gesu on June 25, 2017 (Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time) in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. In October, he will begin a licentiate in sacred theology at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. (Photo credit:www.jesuits.org)
My most vivid memories of elementary school are from second grade. I had spiked hair (I’m not sure if it was cool back then or not), lost many of my baby teeth (earning a special certificate with each one) and played lots of playground football games. However, these were not my most important or formative experiences.
I attended Saint Mary’s Grade School in Kaukauna, Wisconsin. Sister Leonette was my principal, and Sister Maureen was my second grade teacher. Since Sister Maureen had taught young black students on the south side of Chicago, she placed a special emphasis on Black History Month.
During all of February, we learned about the great African-American women and men who struggled to end slavery and segregation and who led the civil rights movement like Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. We learned and sang black spirituals. Sister Maureen showed us photos of her former school, and I felt connected to those students. My family visited that school and parish in Chicago several times over the years, and we formed relationships that continue today.
Sister Maureen’s classroom also had a Peace Corner. If two students were fighting they had to go to the Peace Corner, talk through it, apologize and shake hands before they could leave. I had a few trips to the Peace Corner — mostly related to arguments arising from playground football games. Making peace like this was not easy, but it was so important. Knowing that I still experience my faults and weaknesses and broken relationships, I think about that Peace Corner often and try to practice it in my life today.
Left to right: Leonetta Kochan, OSF, Luke and Maureen Bomaster, OSF (photo courtesy Luke Hansen)
That spring I made my First Communion. In accordance with the Gospel, the Peace Corner was actually an important and necessary preparation for receiving the Eucharist.
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells his disciples:
“Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your sister or brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your sister or brother, and then come and offer your gift.” (Mt 5:23-24)
Black History Month and the Peace Corner both instilled something deep within me about what it means to be reconciled with our sisters and brothers. The annual observance of African American history taught us about the need for social reconciliation. We learned about social sins like slavery, racism, segregation and discrimination, and the need for justice and reconciliation in society. In the Peace Corner, I learned about the importance of reconciliation with friends — and those I found it difficult to get along with. I learned the need for dialogue and forgiveness.
Sister Maureen was a great teacher — a wonderful teacher of peace, just like Saint Clare and Saint Francis. She created structured opportunities to form our young consciences and commitment to peace.
So I ask you: Who has helped form your conscience and shown you how to forgive and make peace? When was the last time you needed to say “I’m sorry” for hurting someone you love? When have you been able to extend forgiveness to someone who hurt you?
In the Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5: 1-12), Jesus invites us, his disciples, to live in a new way: to be poor in spirit, to hunger and thirst for righteousness, to be merciful, to be peacemakers.
In the Gospel, Jesus challenges us to go deeper than simply following good rules (Mt 5: 21-22). To renew ourselves in holiness. It is not enough to simply not kill people. Jesus invites us to examine what is underneath a desire to kill: anger, slurs, grudges and judgments. In what small ways do we kill each other? Is it through gossip? The Arabic word raqá today couldmean calling someone stupid, crazy, fake, a flirt or ugly.
If we find ourselves talking about others like this (and I know I do, at times) or even looking around and thinking about others in these terms, it is necessary for us to go first and be reconciled with our sister or brother.
The sign of peace at each Mass provides this opportunity. It is a sign of our desire to make peace before we go to the altar. Whenever you give the sign of peace, remember the Gospel. In the sign of peace, we are preparing ourselves to receive the gift of Jesus and his peace.
And, if there is someone you need to reconcile with in your life but they are not with you at Mass, take a moment to pray for them before receiving Communion.
May every chapel, and every sacred liturgy, be a Peace Corner where we are formed into persons of mercy, forgiveness and reconciliation.
Note from the editor: This blog post is a version of a homily that Fr. Luke Hansen, SJ, preached at the closing Mass for Camp Franciscan on June 15, 2017 (Thursday of the 10th Week of Ordinary Time) at Holy Family Convent in Manitowoc, Wisconsin.
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. He presently assists with sacramental ministry at the Church of the Gesu in Milwaukee. In October, he will begin a licentiate in sacred theology at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome.
For many years, the international community identified a basic truth about the Guantánamo prison that the American people have been slow to recognize, or have missed completely: the prison’s continued existence constitutes a flagrant violation of basic human rights and international law, and thus, it must be closed “without further delay” (U.N. Report, February 2006).
In the 2008 Presidential election, both candidates jumped on board in supporting the closure of the prison, and at that time, most Americans agreed with them. Despite this momentum to close Guantánamo and rectify its wrongs, today (January 11) marks a somber anniversary: the beginning of Guantánamo’s tenth year. One hundred and seventy three men remain detained there. None of the men have received adequate due process in a court of law – a fundamental right guaranteed by the Geneva Conventions. Most of the remaining detainees have been imprisoned for nearly a decade, separated from their homeland and families, without any sense for when their detention might conclude. Some of the men have even been ordered released by U.S. federal courts, yet remain indefinitely detained.
The “issue” of Guantánamo may have lost popularity and fallen off the narrow radar of the American people, but the continued suffering of its detainees remains very real. This is why the Witness Against Torture (WAT) community continues its advocacy – against all odds – to defend the dignity and rights of the detainees, and to ultimately close the prison. For the next twelve days, more than 150 members and friends of the WAT community will engage in a juice-only Fast for Justice. Fasting is an act of spiritual purification, yet also much more. It has to be, according to the prophet Isaiah: “This is the fasting that the Lord desires: releasing those bound unjustly and setting free the oppressed” (Is 58:6). In our prayer and fasting, we cannot neglect the poor, the hungry, and the imprisoned. In fact, the works of mercy are a non-negotiable part of our fasting.
The WAT community, founded by Catholic Workers and friends in December 2005, is an attempt to incarnate Gospel values and Catholic social teaching as it relates to the treatment of detainees in the “war on terror.” The Gospel challenges us to love all people, especially our so-called “enemies.” The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church teaches that “the struggle against terrorists must be carried out with respect for human rights and for the principles of a State ruled by law” (No. 514). Catholic moral teaching condemns torture as an “intrinsic evil.” And Cardinal Renato Martino, President Emeritus of the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, said this of the Guantánamo prison: “Is not the trampling of man’s dignity a violation of human rights? Everyone has a right to a fair trial. Wherever in the world inmates are being held in such conditions, without even knowing the charges they face, we will not fail to defend them.”
In a multitude of ways, the WAT community has responded to this urgent call. The WAT movement began with a work of mercy: visiting the imprisoned. After months of prayer and discernment, 25 members of WAT decided to make a pilgrimage to Cuba in an attempt to visit the Guantánamo detainees. When the pilgrims were stopped outside the U.S. Naval Base and prohibited from walking any further, the WAT activists held a 24-hour vigil and fast outside the barbed-wire fence.
This past summer, three of us traveled to Bermuda to meet with four Uyghur men who had been unjustly imprisoned in Guantánamo for seven years. In visiting with the men, we encountered the human face of the imprisoned, received encouragement to engage in further advocacy on behalf of detainees, and experienced reconciliation.
As Guantánamo enters its tenth year, this witness must continue. We must continue to reveal the injustice of indefinite detention without charges or trials. We must continue to reveal the humanity of the detainees through telling their stories. This is why more than 150 women and men are beginning this Fast for Justice. It is a plea to our God to restore justice in the land, and to deepen our love (agape) for all people.
This week’s guest blogger, Luke Hansen, is a member of the Wisconsin Province of the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) and a friend to Sister Julia. Both served in the Southwest region of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps from 2004-05. Luke currently teaches and coordinates the volunteer program at Red Cloud Indian School on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota.
Originally from Kaukauna, Wisconsin, Luke Hansen, SJ, has been a friend of Sister Julia’s since 2004 when they met at an airport on their way to serve in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps in California. Passionate about justice and peacemaking, much of his experience in ministry has been centered on serving adults and adolescents who are incarcerated. He now is studying in Rome at the Pontifical Gregorian University. (Photo credit: www.jesuits.org)
