The Power of Example

Homily for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

January 17, 2021

In what has become a classic in a very short time, the Disney film Frozen focuses on two sisters, Elsa and Anna, when they are young children. Elsa is sound asleep when her younger sister, Anna, tries to wake her up because she wants to play. Elsa groggily pushes her sister away and says, “Anna, go back to sleep.”

I’ll bet that any of you who are mothers or fathers have had similar experiences, when you are awakened by the call of a child in the middle of the night, asking for a drink of water, or insisting that you take care of the monsters that are hiding under the child’s bed. Maybe some of you instinctively replied, “Go back to sleep.”

This is the situation we find in our first reading. The young boy Samuel has been dedicated for service of the Lord in the temple. Our reading says that the Lord called Samuel, but the boy thought it was the old High Priest, Eli, calling. The boy wakes up the old man and says, “You called me. What did you want?” Eli replies (you guessed it): “Go back to sleep.”

Now, the important thing to remember is that Eli is a father figure, a role model and a mentor for the young Samuel. He finally figures out that it must really be God calling, even though that would be rare, and so he gives the boy advice: “Go to sleep, and if you are called, reply, Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

We need to remember that throughout the Bible God finds ways of communicating with people. Consider the stories of the Christmas season, for example: Mary is visited by an angel, as are the shepherds; Joseph receives messages from God in dreams; when the infant Jesus is presented in the temple, the old man Simeon and the elderly Anna, who were extremely prayerful people, immediately recognize the child as the promised Savior and sing his praises to anyone who would listen.

Our Scripture readings today remind us that there is a more humble, but very important, way in which God teaches and speaks to us: through those who are older and wiser, parents and grandparents, teachers and mentors. In the first reading we have encountered the young Samuel, gradually learning his way under the guidance of Eli. In the gospel reading we read about John the Baptist pointing out Jesus to two of his disciples, and they in turn become disciples of Jesus, who serves as their Master and mentor.

Pope Francis speaks often about the importance of the role of older people and the incredibly important part they play in the formation of the young. It reminded me of the words of a little pamphlet I found years ago: “When a child thrusts his or her small hand in yours, it may be smeared with ice cream or jelly, and there may be a wart under the right thumb, or a Band-Aid on a little finger. But the most important thing about this little hand is that it is a hand of the future. This hand someday may hold a Bible or a revolver; play the church organ or spin a gambling wheel; gently dress a wound or tremble wretchedly, grasping a drug needle. Right now, that hand is in yours. It represents a full-fledged personality in miniature, to be respected as a separate individual whose day-to-day growth into adulthood is your responsibility.”

In recent days our world has become a very frightening place—a world of violent demonstrations and terrorist threats, a world of such divisiveness that people wonder who they can trust, a fragile world that requires the protection of thousands of armed National Guard troops.

Our nation, and indeed our world, are in desperate need of mentors and role models who can inspire us and show us the way to a safer, happier and more life-giving world. This weekend we honor one such mentor, Martin Luther King, Jr. In one of the most beautiful speeches ever given in America Dr. King said:

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I believe that, even through the frightening nightmare we are experiencing, our God is calling to us, asking each of us in our own way, as limited as we may be, to be examples, role models and mentors of a better world, a better way. We know there is a better way because we have learned it from Jesus Christ, from the Bible, from the Church, from all those who have taught and mentored us, and from our own conscience where, if we listen, we can hear our God showing us the way. If God can call little boys like Samuel, he can surely call us to live with truth and honesty, compassion and reason, justice and respect, love and peace. He can ask us to stand up to bullies, demand more of our elected officials, stand with those whose rights are being trampled on, and insist that those who do evil be held accountable. As surely as God called young Samuel, I believe that God is calling to us today, through the events of our day, to build a civilization of love and respect, to love our neighbors, and to treat others as we want to be treated. Our God is calling and we have a choice. We can treat God’s call as “spam” or “junk mail”—or we can heed old Eli’s teaching: “If you are called, reply, Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

You might also like

Father's Homilies

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Easter April 26, 2026

By Charlene Currie • May 7, 2026
Building Bridges, Not Walls. Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Easter April 26, 2026

Homily for the Third Sunday of Easter April 19, 2026

By Charlene Currie • April 25, 2026
Born to Look … Learning to See Homily for the Third Sunday of Easter April 19, 2026 The scoutmaster used to take his troops on hikes along wilderness nature trails. After each hike he would challenge the scouts to describe what they had observed on their excursion. The boys invariably hadn’t seen a fraction of what the scoutmaster had seen. He would wave his arms in great circles and shout, “Creation is all around you, but you are blocking it out. Stop wearing your raincoat in the shower. You were born to look, but you have to learn to see.” You were born to look, but you have to learn to see. One of the questions that always arises about today’s gospel passage is: Why didn’t the two disciples recognize Jesus? Let’s spend some time reflecting on the possibilities. One obvious answer is that they were disheartened. Their lives are at their lowest point. They are sad and confused. The one they had pinned their hopes on had been humiliated and crucified in a horrible way. How could such a disaster be anything but a total defeat? How could a Messiah, or Savior, allow himself to be beaten and put to death? In addition, the two disciples are probably terrorized, full of fear. The leaders of the people, both religious and political, had made their point. Anyone who rocks the boat and challenges authority will be dealt with swiftly and brutally. If the two were recognized as followers of Jesus, his fate could also be theirs. Let me share another story with you, a story which shows how expectations can color what we see and experience. ---------------------------------- A young man from a wealthy family was about to graduate from high school. It was the custom in his affluent neighborhood for the parents to give the graduate a car as a graduation present. Bill and his father spent months looking at cars, and the week before graduation they found the perfect one. Bill was certain that the car would be his on graduation night. Imagine Bill’s disappointment when, on the eve of the big day, his father handed him a gift-wrapped Bible! Bill was so angry, he hurled the Bible across the room and stormed out of the house, vowing never to return again. Bill and his father never saw each other again. Yet it was the news of his father’s death that brought Bill back home again. One night, as he sat going through his father’s possessions that he was to inherit, Bill came across the Bible that his father had given him. He brushed away the dust and opened it to find a cashier’s check, dated the day of his graduation—for the exact amount of the car they had chosen together. ------------------------------- As the scoutmaster said, “You are born to look, but you have to learn to see.” What does today’s gospel passage want us to learn to see? One obvious answer is that the privileged place to encounter Jesus is in the celebration of the Eucharist, or Mass. In the gospel Jesus does two things: he interprets the Scriptures and how they apply to him; and he “breaks bread” with the two disciples. We thus have the two halves of the Mass: the liturgy of the word and the liturgy of the Eucharist. The Bible is telling us where to look, and it is teaching us to learn to see. Like the cashier’s check in the Bible, Jesus’ presence is not always obvious or straightforward. So, where and how should we look? The first place is the Bible. We need to take time to read God’s word slowly, savor it, and allow it to speak to us. If you are having difficulty, a commentary will help. Turning to those who know the Bible better that we do, and asking for clarifications and advice, will also help. The second place of encounter with Jesus is the Eucharist. The mystery of Emmaus is that the disciples recognize Jesus in the “breaking of bread,” which was one of the phrases used for the celebration of the Eucharist. Try to enter the Mystery more and more by giving yourself totally, without distractions, to each part of the Mass. Savor what it means to gather with open minds and hearts; to listen to the message of Scripture, the inspired word of God; to take the message of the homily home with you and reflect on it; to ask for forgiveness and to pray for peace; to intercede for our needs and the needs of the whole world; to receive our Lord mindfully, and not just hurry through the motions. Finally, in the Emmaus story, Jesus approaches his people who are depressed, disappointed and broken-hearted. At first, they do not recognize him. But as they listen more and more, their hearts start to burn within them. So, another way to experience the presence of Jesus Christ is to do as he did, to find value in what he taught and how he acted. He clearly said that he could be found in the poor and vulnerable: I was hungry, and you gave me food; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink; I was naked, and you clothed me; I was ill, or in prison, or lonely, and you visited me. Today’s gospel gives us a blueprint for encountering Jesus and feeling his presence. But we have to give ourselves to it wholeheartedly. We were born to look, but we have to learn how to see. The Bible has a treasure in it, and it’s not a cashier’s check. The Eucharist has a presence in it, and it’s something more than bread. The people around us are children of God. They have a spark of the divine within them. We were born to look, but we have to learn how to see.

Homily for the Second Sunday of Easter April 12, 2026

By Charlene Currie • April 25, 2026
Will You Still Need Me? Homily for the Second Sunday of Easter April 12, 2026 One hot summer afternoon a woman was working strenuously, weeding her flower beds and pruning the plants. The flowers were especially magnificent. A passerby asked, “I really like those flowers—do you?” As she wiped perspiration from her face with a dirty hand, the woman’s weary response was, “Only when they bloom.” The passerby thought how many folks have a similar attitude toward church, family, work, or life in general—“I only like it when it is in full bloom and beautiful.” The passerby thought of those necessary times of hard work—mulching, weeding, cultivating, pruning and transplanting—as well as seasonal dormancy, which are all necessary to bring about the blooms which precede the bearing of seeds and fruit. --------------------------------- I mentioned during one of my homilies during Holy Week that I was always bothered that the risen Jesus, with his risen body, still had the wounds. I compared it to buying a shiny, brand-new car, and insisting that there be dents on the fenders and leaks in the engine. As I thought about it more and more, however, I came to understand that the wounds were there for a purpose. In the case of Thomas, the wounds were the evidence he needed. But, beyond that, the wounds serve as a reminder that Jesus’ love for us is total, down to the last drop of blood. The wounds help preserve the memory of how painful true love can be. It’s easy to love that which is perfect and beautiful, is it not? But Jesus chose to show us a love of that which is less than perfect, and clearly not beautiful. Perhaps the clearest example of that is that he was there for the lepers of his day, those who had a contagious disease that rotted their flesh and forced them to live in isolation. But it was true of others, as well. Jesus went out of his way to embrace public sinners, foreigners, enemies, even those who were involved in putting him to death. From the cross he prayed, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” The risen body of Jesus, still bearing the wounds, means that our Lord is present in a special way to those who are wounded: those with cancer or another life-threatening disease, those who have lost a loved one, those who have been bullied, those carrying the wounds of a failed relationship, those who feel they cannot be forgiven, those who know they are less than perfect. Jesus is there for those living with the daily threat of war, terrorism, violence, domestic abuse, betrayal. In short, the less than perfect resurrected body of Jesus means that now, as then, he is present in a special way to those who are less than perfect. ------------------------------------------------ I was reminded of an early hit by the Beatles. Do you remember a song entitled When I’m Sixty-Four, released in June 1967? Here are some of the lyrics: When I get older, losing my hair Many years from now, Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine? If I'd been out till quarter to three, Would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm sixty-four? Ooh … I could be handy mending a fuse When your lights have gone. You can knit a sweater by the fireside, Sunday mornings, go for a ride. Doing the garden, digging the weeds, Who could ask for more? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm sixty-four? -------------------------------------------------- In a similar way, Jesus’ wounds remind us that he’s not a fair-weather friend, only there for the good times. He’s there, always, and especially when we’re wounded. So, if you’re struggling, if you’re dealing with something painful, don’t run away. Don’t make the mistake of thinking the Lord doesn’t understand, or care. Instead, go to the wounds. Allow yourself to feel what true love is like when you need it the most.