OK, Lord, give me some Miracle Grow!

 

I was attracted to a little story entitled, “Consider the Walnut.” Intriguing: why should I consider the walnut…?

 

If you compare a walnut with some of the beautiful and exciting things that grow on our planet, it does not seem to be a marvelous act of creation. It is common looking, rough, not particularly attractive, and certainly not monetarily valuable.

 

Besides, it is small. Its growth is limited by the hard shell that surrounds it, the shell from which it never escapes on its own. Of course, though, that’s the wrong way to judge a walnut.

 

Break a walnut open and look inside. See how the walnut has grown to fill every nook and cranny available to it. It had no say in the size or shape of that shell, but, given those limitations, it achieved its full potential of growth.

 

The author concludes by remarking: How lucky we will be if, like the walnut, we blossom and bloom in every space of life that is given to us.

 

In today’s gospel passage, Jesus offers stories that would be quite understandable to his audience. While they knew the hard work that went into farming, they could also appreciate the sense of wonder that Jesus expresses. You start out with a tiny seed and look at what it produces: grains for food and branches in which birds can build their nests. What a remarkable transformation!

 

And Jesus is saying that God’s kingdom is like that: while we eat and sleep, and go about our daily life, a miracle of growth takes place. And so it is with our very life and the many gifts with which we are blessed.

 

Many years ago, like many of you, I spent several summers working on a tobacco farm. One of the first things we did as the growing season began was to slide along between the rows, pull the weeds, and pull off the suckers from each plant. Suckers were little, miniature growths that would appear where each leaf met the stalk. We were told that those suckers had to come off because they would rob the mother plant of vital nutrients, and the crop would not meet its full potential. Thus, the plant knew what it had to do, but we were there to help it maximize its full potential.

 

And so it is, in a comparable way, with the life and gifts God has given us. Let me give you an example of what I mean.

 

There was a series of Doonesbury comic strips telling the story of Kim, a high school student of Asian ancestry whose hard work in school won her a coveted National Merit Scholarship.

 

In one panel, Kim is called into the office of the principal who tells her, “Kim, I just wanted to tell you how proud all of us are about your nomination as a Merit Scholar! It’s very good news for your family and for the school. Your accomplishment demonstrates that the failure of so many kids to learn is not just the school’s fault. It reaffirms the importance of discipline and personal motivation.” “Yes, sir,” Kim replied, “but I’m not so sure everyone in the community sees it quite that way.”

 

And, sure enough, in the next panels, a group of parents are at the front door of Kim’s home, confronting her father. “She’s throwing off the curve for the entire school,” they complain. “How does she do so well anyway? Couldn’t you get her to watch more TV like the other children?”

 

Kim’s American father calmly explains that they’ve tried to instill in their daughter her culture’s values of discipline, hard work and respect for others. The other parents are taken aback for a moment. A mother protests, “But doesn’t that give her an unfair advantage?” Another father blusters, “Yeah, this is America!”

 

And so it is with the talents and abilities God has given us. Let’s examine ourselves. Are there suckers that are sucking the life out of our gifts? Do we see someone in need, for instance, and turn away because of indifference? Do we see an injustice being committed, and we choose not to say anything because of fear? Do we know a lonely person aching for our visit, but we stay away because we’re just too busy with stuff that seems more important? Do we fail to spend quality time with our families or friends, even though we say they are important to us? Do we see a glaring need but do nothing because someone else can do it?

 

Perhaps God’s Word, which we hear week after week, has simply become part of the routine. A formality, once a week. Perhaps we need to let down our defenses and open our hearts so that God can pull off some of the suckers and pull up some of the weeds which get in the way of our living a full life, sapping our potential and leaving us feeling unfulfilled. Surely, God gives the gifts, God gives the growth, but maybe we’re not producing as we should. In that case, maybe we need to open ourselves up and pray, if you’ll forgive the pun, “OK, Lord, give me some Miracle Grow! Help me to thrive, and not just exist.”

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Father's Homilies

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Easter April 26, 2026

By Charlene Currie • May 7, 2026
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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.