Following the Lord Along the Path of Life, 33rd Sunday (B), November 17, 2024

Fr. Roger J. Landry
Columbia Catholic Ministries, Notre Dame Church, Manhattan
33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B
Eighth World Day of the Poor
November 17, 2024
Dan 12:1-3, Ps 16, Heb 10:10-14.18, Mk 13:24-32

To listen to an audio recording of today’s homily, please click below: 

The following text guided the homily: 

• Youth, and particularly university years, is a time in which we are constantly shifting focus from the present to the future, from the short to long term, from the things of today to those of tomorrow. We quickly pass from concentrating on exams, papers, meetings, competitions and plans for tonight to thinking about next summer’s internships, jobs, careers and vocations, possible marriages, children, and beyond. November is the month in which the Church wants us to go from the ephemeral and evanescent to the everlasting and eternal, not in the sense of daydreaming about or dreading the future, but in the sense of deriving direction from the future to help us chart our path in the here-and-now. In the eleventh month of the year, the Church always ponders what are called the “four last things” — death, judgment, heaven and hell — so that we, aware of what’s coming, can start wisely orienting our whole life right now to these inevitabilities in a similar way to how, if we know what the essay questions will be on a final exam, we can start preparing to ace it.
• In tonight’s Gospel, Jesus speaks to us in apocalyptic language about the end of the world, when he says the sun will be darkened, the moon will not give light, the stars will fall from the sky and the heavens will be shaken. Those will be for many, he says, days of “tribulation,” the fulfillment of what the Prophet Daniel in tonight’s first reading says will be a “time unsurpassed in distress since nations began.” But in the midst of those frightening images, there is a way to choose to remain in peace. Jesus says that then we will “see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory,” that the angels will gather the elect, and that even though heaven and earth will pass away, his words will not pass away, inviting us to build our life on him and the words of eternal life he gives us. The ones who do, Daniel says, “will “live forever,” and will “shine brightly like the splendor of the firmament” and “like the stars forever.” These are the ones, as Psalm 16 teaches us today, who make the Lord their “allotted portion” and their “cup,” conscious that he will hold fast their lot. These are the ones who keep the Lord ever before them, knowing that with him at their right hand, they will not be disturbed, their heart will be glad, their soul rejoice, and their body abide in confidence, because they know he will not abandon them, but instead show them the path to life, to fullness of joy, to delights forever at his right hand. So in the midst of all that will pass away in the future, at an hour that no one knows except God the Father, Jesus and his Church are urging us wisely to choose right what will not pass away, and to follow Jesus confidently along the path of life he desires to show us.
• In graphic language, Jesus is urging us to make practical the truth we proclaim every Sunday in our profession of faith: “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.” Does that rock solid reality fill us with joy or fill us with fright? Are we ready, to use the words of tonight’s Alleluia verse, through vigilance and prayer to “stand before the Son of Man” or, rather, would we seek to run away? If angels were to come in vast numbers right now to announce that the end of the world were coming tonight, would most people — would you and I — jump up and down in jubilation or scream in fear? When the first Christians reflected on this reality of Jesus’ second coming, they used to cry out, “Marana tha,” “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev 22:20). They looked forward to this event with great expectation, because it would lead to their full unity in love with the Lord forever. Our attitude is supposed to be similar. We pray in every Mass, after the Our Father, “By the help of your mercy, may we be always free from sin … as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ!” The attitude we’re called to have versus Jesus’ second coming, every day, is a holy “hope.”
• Several years ago I preached a retreat in Los Angeles. An elderly woman came to me with a question that was obviously troubling her. “Father,” she asked, “is it sinful for me to look forward to my death so that I can, God-willing, be with Jesus forever in heaven?” I replied tenderly, but emphatically, “No. It’s not a sin!” Then she commented, “Then why doesn’t anyone else seem to have this longing?” It was a very sound observation. Few do seem to have this longing for heaven, for what will not pass away. One reason, I think, is because so many of us are disproportionately, even obsessively and compulsively, focused on the things of this world, like the imminent political changes taking place in Washington, various dramas in our friend groups, families, classes and workplaces, or the latest happenings in sports or entertainment. Our mind, heart, soul and strength are not focused on God and the things of God but rather what Jesus elsewhere in a parable calls “worldly cares and anxieties, the lure of riches and the craving for other things” (Mk 4:19). This is not the path of wisdom. It’s not the way to happiness. Because our hearts will be restless until they rest in God, as St. Augustine reminded us, if our hearts are not seeking the things of God that will not pass away, if they’re not treasuring God and seeking to build their life on the rock of his word, if they’re not making him their portion and cup and following him on the path of life, then they will be signing up for a heap of anxiety and distress, well before the fulfillment of the apocalyptic imagery Jesus and Daniel gives us today.
• Another reason, I think, that many do not have a longing for Jesus to come to judge the living and the dead may have to do with the first part of that prayer I just cited from the Mass, and the link between our being “free from sin” and our ability to wait in “blessed hope” for the Lord’s coming. I’d like to illustrate this point with a story from my childhood. When I was a kid, most days I would wait with eager expectation for the return of my dad from work about 4:15 p.m. At about 4:00, our black Labrador retriever would start pacing around the house with its tail wagging. Each of the four kids would take regular glances at the clock. Eventually we would hear the shutting of the heavy steel door of my father’s van and we would all hustle toward the back door through which he would come, all wanting to be the first to jump into his strong arms and give him a joyful welcome home with a hug and a kiss. We loved our dad and couldn’t wait for him to return so that we could be with him. This was what happened, as I said earlier, on “most” days. Sometimes, I would actually dread his return — precisely on those occasions when I had done something that I knew he wouldn’t appreciate and about which my mother had promised to inform him on his arrival! On those afternoons, when 4:00 pm came around and our dog began his excited daily ritual, I was looking for a place to hide behind the clothes in the closet in my bedroom! I think that experience is like a parable for our disposition in front of the return of the Lord. If we really love the Lord, we are impatient for his return, so that we can be with him. We’re like family members in airports awaiting the first sight of loved ones returning from deployments or trips overseas, ready to scamper across arrival terminals to embrace them. If we’re ready to greet Jesus, it is a time of “blessed hope” and expectation. For those of us who have “done something wrong,” however, who have not lived “free from sin,” who haven’t been following him along the path of life, then it’s something to which we do not look forward — something even that we can dread.
• How do those of us who do fear the coming of the Lord — either at the end of time or at the end of our lives, whichever comes first (and either may come in a matter of minutes) — become those who can await his advent full of “blessed hope”? How can live in the present in such a way that we will be vigilant, prayerful and ready at all times for the Lord’s coming and eternal future of life and love? The great saints have told us the secret to this transition: it’s by living each day as if it is our last, keeping both of our eyes now opened to the future, getting everything in order so that not only we will never be caught off guard when he comes, but rather ready at all times to meet the Lord and on fire for a loving reunion.
• Perhaps after the Bible the most influential Christian spiritual classic of all time is Thomas à Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ, written about 600 years ago between 1418-1427. It’s been at the bedside and on the kneelers of many saints through the centuries. I read it for the first time when I was an undergraduate and it really helped me to mature. If you haven’t read it yet, I’d urge you just to download a free copy and begin even tonight. Kempis is super direct. Early in the classic, he gave great advice as to how to live in the present conscious of the last things. They changed the whole way I have lived since. Kempis wrote, “Very quickly will there be an end of you here; take heed, therefore, how it will be with you in another world. … O the dullness and hardness of the human heart, which thinks only of the present, and looks not forward to the future. You ought in every deed and thought so to order yourself as if you were to die this day. … Happy is the one who has the hour of his death always before his eyes, and daily prepares himself to die. … When it is morning, reflect that you shall not see the evening, and at evening dare not to boast yourself of tomorrow. Always be prepared and so live that death may never find you unprepared. Many die suddenly and unexpectedly. [Jesus says,] ‘For at such an hour as you think not, the Son of Man will come.’ … Strive now to live in such a way that at the hour of death, you may rather rejoice than fear. Learn now to die to the world, so shall you begin to live with Christ. Learn now to spurn all earthly things, and then you may freely go unto Christ. … Think of nothing but your salvation. Care only for the things of God. Make friends for yourself by venerating the saints of God and walking in their footsteps, so that when you die, you may be received into eternal dwellings. Keep yourself a stranger and a pilgrim upon the earth, to whom the things of the world belong not. Keep your heart free and lifted towards God, for here we have no lasting city. To Him direct your daily prayers with cries and tears, that your spirit may be found worthy to pass happily after death to its Lord!”
• Kempis’ spiritual wisdom, which has converted many sinners and formed many saints over the last six centuries, is based on the insight that it is only when we realize that today may be our last day, that we may not have the opportunity to put off the truly important things until tomorrow, that we begin to think clearly and get our priorities straight. We act differently toward people when we realize this interaction with them might be our last. We begin to look at time differently and no longer wish to waste it on diversions. We’re not tempted in the same way toward the harsh word, or the impure thought, or the vengeful action, knowing that that might be the final thing we ever do. We begin to have a far deeper appreciation for prayer and the Sacraments and the Church. We begin far more easily to make decisions, because we have a much clearer of sense of what matters and what doesn’t. In short, we cease to sleepwalk spiritually and become fully alert to the meaning of every moment, thought, word and deed.
• Back in 2011, I read something that helped me live even more practically the wisdom Kempis imparts. It was a letter to the priests of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia by Cardinal Justin Rigali, two days before he would retire as their archbishop. It was an extraordinarily beautiful meditation on Christian preparation for death and how to follow Christ on the path of life. Cardinal Rigali wrote provocatively, “Preparing for death is the greatest opportunity in our lives.” Rather than dreading death as the inexorable occasion in which our life will be taken from us, we can all learn from Jesus, he said, how to make our death an act of supreme self-giving love. He advised that we focus on two Gospel passages and to meditate upon them every day. The first is Jesus’ words, “No one takes [my life] from me; I freely lay it down,” from Jesus’ Good Shepherd discourse (Jn 10:18). Just as Jesus made his death a voluntary act of self-giving love, we can do the same. “Seen in this perspective,” the Cardinal continued, “death is the moment to give all, to surrender all with Jesus and in union with His sacrifice. … When anticipated by an act of loving acceptance, death is an opportunity to say ‘yes’ to the Father, just as Jesus did; to say ‘yes’ with all our heart, like Jesus did.” This is the exact opposite of being a victim, even by death! Every day we are trying to give our life to God and in love for others. That leads us to the second passage he counseled us to pray about and act on each day: Jesus’ last words from the Cross, when he cried out, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Lk 23:46). Cardinal Rigali urged us to imitate Jesus’ total self-entrustment to God the Father, especially each night before we go to bed, as the Church does when we pray Night Prayer or Compline. Cardinal Rigali comments, “When the hour of death comes, we may not be conscious. It may come very suddenly, by reason of an accident, by reason of a heart attack; there are a million and one possibilities left to our imagination, but … the point is: the surrender will have been made thousands of times! The Father will understand that each of us had the power, which we exercised, the power, with His Son Jesus, to lay down our life freely, lovingly and definitively. Then there will be no obstacle to the consummation of our love. Life and holiness will be ours forever in the communion of the Most Blessed Trinity.” If every day before we go to bed, we entrust our life to God, then when death comes, it will just be the exclamation point on that nightly self-offering. Cardinal Rigali concludes, since preparing for death is the greatest opportunity in our lives, “Now is the time to give all!”
• The more alert we are to the reality that today may be our last, the more loving we also become. Rather than withdrawing from the world, living conscious of the last things helps us make the world much better. Prayer about the Kingdom of Heaven commits us to transform our life and our environment according to the values of that kingdom, which is part of the renewal the world needs. Like Ebenezer Scrooge in Dicken’s A Christmas Carol after he returned from the nightmare of pondering his death and the selfish, miserable life he had led up until then, we seek to make up for lost time and to care for each other as if we’re truly running out of time. Today is the eighth World Day of the Poor, started by Pope Francis in 2017, and it’s meant to help us all get very practical and urgent about the corporal and spiritual works of mercy, about loving our neighbor with the time we have like Jesus has loved us first. It leads us to a certain haste. At his Angelus message early today in the Vatican, Pope Francis said, “Today we celebrate World Day of the Poor, which has the theme: “The prayer of the poor rises up to God” (Sir 21:5). … I will ask a question; everyone can ask this question to themselves: Do I go without something in order to give it to the poor? … Brothers and sisters, let us not forget that the poor cannot wait!” Those last words of the Holy Father describe the type of hurry we should have to carry out works of charity. Often we defer acts of love because we don’t think our actions matter that much, that the poor person who asks us for alms or for something to eat, if he or she doesn’t get it from us, will eventually get it from someone after us. But we don’t know how many people will similarly stiff the poor person. We do know, however, that Jesus identifies with those in need, saying, “I was hungry, I was thirsty, I was naked, I was a stranger, I was sick, I was imprisoned by addiction,” etc, and he says whatever we do to them, we do to him. Our eternal judgment, he says, will depend on how we care for the least of his brethren. There’s an urgency not just for the homeless person but likewise for us, because we don’t know the day or the hour, and we don’t know if we’ll have a chance tomorrow to care for Christ in the disguise of the poor, or when we graduate, or after we win the lottery. If we seek to live each day as if it might be our last, our choices become much simpler, and our charity much greater. We can’t take anything with us after we die except our acts of charity. Those are the only things that will fit through the eye of the needle. And so if we wish to shine brightly like the stars in the firmament later, if we want to build our life on the stable foundation of the Lord’s words that will never pass away, we have to see the Son of Man coming for us each day, not just “in the clouds with great power and glory,” but also in the humblest disguise of the poor with whom he intimately identifies. If he is truly our allotted portion and cup, then we will far more easily be able to part with everything else as we seek to use the time we have to love with our mind, heart, soul, strength and resources.
• The greatest means by which to prepare to meet Jesus when he comes at the end of time or at the end of our life is to meet him, fully awake, at Mass. It’s here at Mass that we hear Jesus’ words that will never pass away and are given the grace to build our life on them. It’s through the Mass that we participate in Jesus’ one sacrifice from the Upper Room and Calvary that takes away our sins, like the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us today, so that we may one day to come to join him as he has taken his seat at the right hand of God the Father. It’s in the one offering of the Mass that Jesus seeks to make perfect, Hebrews says, those who are being consecrated, those who are entering into his own consecration reiterated each day at the altar. If we’re vigilant and prayerful here, if we’re able to fall down in adoring gratitude before Jesus’ self-gift, then we will be strengthened to stand before him when he comes in glory. Therefore, following the advice of Thomas à Kempis and Cardinal Justin Rigali, let us take full advantage of the time we have today to say here and now the definitive “yes” to God that we want to say on the last day of our life, at the hour of our death, and for all eternity, and with Jesus freely lay down our life to God and entrust ourselves to him. Doing so is the means by which when the sun and moon darken and the stars seem to fall, when Christ comes in glory to judge the living and the dead, rather than be afraid, we will run out to meet him, free from sin, as the fulfillment of “blessed hope,” ready to jump into his gloriously scarred hands and be embraced by eternal love. Jesus, here, is our portion and our cup. Let us set him ever before us, so that he can make our heart glad, soul rejoice and even our body, in communion with his, abide in confidence, as he comes to show us the path of life and how the fullness of joy is found in his presence. This is the way we will live in the present wisely in such a way that when the angels come to gather the elect, we will be among them, and come to delight forever at his right hand.

The readings for today’s Mass were: 

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