Homily for Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time October 6, 2024

The Church’s Teaching on Marriage and Divorce.

One of my all-time favorite stories comes from a city in Germany named Weinsberg. Overlooking the city, perched atop a hill, stands an ancient fortress. The townspeople of Weinsberg are proud to tell about an interesting legend concerning the fortress.

According to the legend, in the 15^th century, in the days of chivalry and honor, enemy troops laid siege to the fortress and sealed all the townsfolk inside. The enemy commander sent word up to the fortress announcing that he would allow the women and children to leave and go free before he launched a devastating attack.

After some negotiations, the enemy commander also agreed, on his word of honor, to let each woman take with her the most valuable, personal treasure she possessed, provided she could carry it out herself.

You can imagine the enemy commander’s consternation and surprise when the women began marching out of the fortress…each one carrying her husband on her back.

Today’s readings take us into a consideration of the biblical teaching on marriage. Of course, these passages were written in a patriarchal society, and so, the man is given first place. But commentators on the book of Genesis note that in the creation account, the bone taken from the man to be formed into a woman was not from the head or the foot—suggesting domination or enslavement. Rather, it was from a rib, which came closest to the man’s heart, that established the basis for mutual sharing of life.

What I like about the Weinsberg story is that it is the women who carry the husbands out. Isn’t it true that, often, it is the woman who takes the lead in the art of making a marriage work? It seems to me that, more often than not, men can be clueless, and it takes a woman, who tends to be better at relationships, to make things work out.

Now, I don’t want to be labeled a sexist or…well, to tell the truth, I don’t want to be labeled anything at all. But as we consider the biblical teaching on marriage, it is noteworthy that God builds into human nature the need for equality, sharing life’s work, building a home, having children, nurturing and providing for their needs, and making love the foundation for everything.

Of course, that’s the ideal. And Jesus stresses that it today’s gospel. God intended people to be happy, and to have relationships that work out. How could a loving God desire anything different? We all know how painful the breakup of relationships can be for everyone involved. And so, following the lead of the Bible, we hold marriage to be sacred, noble, a beautiful gift.

In practice, of course, things don’t always work out. We are all weak and imperfect human beings. One or another ingredient required for a true, lasting, until death do you part, marriage just isn’t there. Sometimes, staying together even becomes dangerous and life-threatening.

That’s why in recent years the Church has come to accept annulments. Based on the findings of psychology, we now know that it takes a lot more than just an “I do” or the signing of a contract to create a strong, life-long bond. And so, there’s a kind of delicate balance: on the one hand, upholding the ideal of the permanence and sanctity of marriage, for the good of the spouses, the family and the society—and on the other hand, also acknowledging that often a key element was missing, a necessary ingredient was absent, and a lasting bond couldn’t be created and maintained.

One of the key statements of today’s readings is found in today’s first reading from Genesis. God realized that it was not good for a person to be alone, to live in isolation. Whether in marriage, in family, or in friendship, we need other people to thrive, to escape loneliness, to be healthy human beings. “It’s not good to be alone” is thus an invitation from our God. We have the power, do we not, to be there for others, especially when they are all alone, or confused, or defenseless, or aged, or new in town. We have the power to keep others from being alone! It’s the human thing to do, to reach out and help. All the more, it’s the responsibility of the Church to continue to do what Jesus did: to welcome people, to build bridges, to make people feel loved, respected and wanted, to build a community in which we are less alone, less vulnerable, less poor, less loved. We have the power to keep others from being alone! Are we using that power? Or are there people in our community suffering from neglect?

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Father's Homilies

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.