Loving with True Commitment

Some years ago divers located a 400-year-old sunken ship off the coast of Ireland. Among the treasures they found on the ship was a wedding ring. When it was cleaned up, the divers noticed that the ring had an inscription on it. Etched on the wide band were two hands holding a heart. Under the etching were these words: “I have nothing more to give you.” Of all the treasures found on that sunken ship, none moved the divers more than that ring and its beautiful inscription.

 

I was reminded of that story when reading today’s gospel with its beautiful imagery. Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. A good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. A hired man, who is not a shepherd and whose sheep are not his own, sees a wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away, and the wolf catches and scatters them….”

 

Sometimes, when our life becomes challenging, when we have to endure some pain, evil, or loss, it is easy to become despondent and lose hope. At times, we may wonder where God is in all the mess we’re in. Has that ever happened to you?

 

Sometimes, this can happen at a larger, more global level. When we consider all the starving people in the world, or all those who are in the grips of war, or those who have to deal with childhood cancer, or those in government who have become corrupt and seem to care little for their people—when we are overwhelmed, and feel inundated by all of that, we can lose hope. We can ask: why is this happening? Where is God?

 

The answer the Bible proposes is: on the cross, in the middle of it all. The 400-year-old ring proclaimed a love that was absolute: When I have given you my heart, my life, my love, every breath I take, I have nothing more to give. In a similar way, Jesus says in today’s gospel, “I am the good shepherd. I lay down my life for my sheep.” I give you all my love—down to the last drop of blood. “No one takes my life from me, but I lay it down on my own. I have power to lay it down, and power to take it up again.” I give my life, so that you may have eternal life. There is no greater love.

 

Jesus Christ, the good shepherd, is totally committed to his flock. He gives us everything he has, everything he is. Now, the question I would like to ask is: how do we respond to such love?

 

I am reminded of the story of two great professors, who were discussing great thoughts on wisdom and the meaning of life. The first professor says to the second, “Henry tells me he is one of your students.” The second professor replies, “Well, Henry does attends many of my classes, but he is not one of my students.” The professor is suggesting that Henry may be a distant follower, but he is not a real disciple.

 

And so it was in Jesus day. Many people followed when the following was easy. But when Jesus started asking for a deeper response, when his message became more challenging, many drifted away. They may have attended his gatherings, they may have found his words powerful, they may have been astonished by the miracles Jesus performed, but when they were asked to sacrifice, to turn the other cheek, to walk the extra mile, to forgive even those who hurt them deeply, to give up their possessions so as to have a heavenly treasure, well, how could he ask so much?

 

Only because he loved so much. Only because he wanted his followers to discover the key to life. One of our favorite Saints, Francis of Assisi, captured Jesus’ message quite powerfully in the prayer we often sing, Make Me a Channel of your Peace: Where there is hatred, help me to bring love; where there is injury, pardon; where there’s doubt, faith; where there’s despair, hope; where there’s darkness, light; where there’s sadness, joy. For it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, it is in giving of ourselves that we receive, and it is in dying, when we have nothing left to give, that we’re born to eternal life.

 

Jesus gave all, laying down his life out of love. Are we loving boldly? Or only half-heartedly? Are we following from a safe distance? Or making a real commitment?

 

In our parish, I am proud of the many ways in which we follow our Lord and serve the needs of our community. This past week, for example, many volunteers came together to serve lunches to children who were out of school on spring vacation. Many of you donated food for the lunches. Our Women’s Group brought together all kinds of crafters from our community to check out the latest in the annual Stash Bash. Some of our parishioners are involved in the Gill-Montague Education Fund, which is having its annual concert next Saturday to support the teachers and students in our area. Whenever I visit shut-ins and parishioners in area nursing homes, they tell me that they are praying for our parish. And we have joined together in support of the Beacon of Faith Campaign, which has had a tremendous response thus far. (I’m hoping for 100% involvement in this campaign to strengthen our Church and its future.) In all these ways, and many more, we show that we are true disciples, that our faith is important to us, and that we’re not following Jesus from a safe distance. Thank you for your commitment.

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Prairie Chickens and Eagles Homily for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe November 23, 2025 An American Indian tells about a brave who found an eagle’s egg and put it into the nest of a prairie chicken. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chicks and grew up with them. All its life the changeling eagle, thinking it was a prairie chicken, did what the other prairie chickens did. It scratched in the dirt for seeds and insects to eat. It clucked and cackled. And it flew in a brief thrashing of wings and flurry of feathers no more than a few feet off the ground. After all, that’s how prairie chickens were supposed to fly. Years passed, and the changeling grew very old. One day it saw a magnificent bird soaring far above in the cloudless sky. Hanging with graceful majesty on the powerful wind currents, it soared with scarcely a beat of its strong golden wings. “What a beautiful bird!” said the changeling eagle to its neighbor. “What is it?” “That’s an eagle—the chief of the birds,” the neighbor clucked. “But don’t give it a second thought. You could never be like him.” So, the changeling eagle never gave it another thought. And it died thinking it was a prairie chicken. Today, we are celebrating the fact that Jesus Christ is the King of all God’s creation. And yet, it is strange that the gospel passage chosen for this feast is the scene of Jesus’ crucifixion. Notice how weak he is. Consider how he is laughed at and made fun of. “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God….If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” So, the problem is one of expectations. The bystanders were looking for an eagle, and all they saw before them was a prairie chicken! And yet, at the end of the gospel, this prairie chicken seems to have some power that prairie chickens don’t normally have. When Jesus is asked by the thief being crucified with him, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom,” Jesus replies, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Hardly a promise that could be made by a prairie chicken! What’s going on here? I’d like to refer us to a passage we find in the writings of St. Paul, a section of his letter to the Philippians that is the second reading on Palm Sunday, when we reflect on the crucifixion of Jesus. Here it is: “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Jesus taught the way of humility and service. He came to raise others up, especially those who were bowed down by poverty or prejudice. He taught that there was no greater love than to lay down one’s life for the love of others. Greatness is found not in building oneself up at the expense of others, but in building up others, especially those who need it the most. So, Jesus emptied himself, to the point of looking like a prairie chicken, and in doing so he showed us the way to the eternal kingdom by means of humble service, that we might become who we truly are, eagles destined to soar beyond the clouds.