topleft05.jpg (18208 bytes)HOMILY
The Fifth Sunday of Lent (A)
09 March 08


 

I will put my spirit in you that you may life…
thus you shall know that I am the Lord.
I have promised, and I will do it, says the Lord.

(Ezekiel 37:14)              
 

Six years ago last Friday morning, I received a telephone call informing me that an Augustinian who was two years behind me in the seminary had died earlier in the morning.  The name of that Augustinian was John Newton.

Evidently, John—who had diabetes—discovered himself slipping into a diabetic coma sometime around 3:00 a.m.  John got up, lit the candle next on the nightstand next to his bed, and traipsed from his bedroom into his sitting room (as we are all wont to do when awakened at 3:00 a.m.) to give himself a shot of insulin.  Once in the sitting room, however, John fell into a coma and collapsed onto the floor.  Meanwhile, the candle John had lit burned down and started a fire in his bedroom.  The fire grew in intensity, sucking up all of the oxygen in the two rooms until the fire burned itself out.  In the process, John was asphyxiated.

A tragic death, no doubt about it.

John had taught since 1981 in two of our high schools and was a highly-regarded wrestling coach.  Over 900 adults—many of them, former students—attended the funeral mass.  Having died at the age of 43, many of these adults said, “How sad,” adding, “he died before his time.”

For my part, however, I don’t believe John died before his time; neither do I believe Lazarus died before his time.  I say this because time is relative:

·       Little kids think their grandparents are ancient.  Look back in your family’s photo album.  Remember how old you thought your grandparents were when they were a mere 55 years of age?

·       Teenagers believe their 40-year-old parents are old, sometimes even referring to them by the appellation “my old man” or “my old lady.”  Looking back across the decades, 40 doesn’t seem all that old!

·       By most standards, 70 years is old.  That is, unless you’re 80 years old.  My Dad will be 85 this year.  He can’t believe he’s that “old.”  “At least I don’t feel that old,” he says.
 

The issue raised by the death of someone “before his (or her) time” has nothing to do with time.  Rather, the issue has everything to do with the quality of life an individual chooses to live during his (or her) time on earth.  From the testimonials delivered at John Newton’s funeral, it was amply evident that John packed an awful lot into his relatively few years, perhaps more than most people do in 60 or even 70 or perhaps even 80 years.

So did Lazarus, I believe.  After all, St. John tells us that Lazarus had many friends, one of whom was Jesus.  Lazarus’ death left a gaping hole in their hearts…such a hole that Jesus wept at hearing about Lazarus’ death.

The assessment, “He died before his time”—when viewed from the perspective of one’s self-chosen quality of life—is absolutely irrelevant.  After all, we could say the same about Jesus.  Somewhere in the prime of his life, Jesus “died before his time.”

If we take a bit of time to contemplate this truth, we can gain a powerful insight into our lives and the quantity of time we have already been given.  Unfortunately, however, the power of this insight has to do with the fact that many of us have died before our time, although most of us don’t know it, unaware as we are of our demise.  Frittering away the time we have to live full, complete, and meaningful lives, we’ve already dug ourselves into premature graves.

Consider this: in almost every 24-hour cycle,

·       we spend 8 hours (or one third of the day) at work or school;

·       we spend another 8 hours (or another one third of the day) sleeping;

·       this leaves 8 hours or thereabouts (the last third of the day) to live our lives to the max—to live a quality life, one—like Jesus, Lazarus, and John Newton—that is life-giving.
 

From this perspective—just think about it—if you knew that your time was up tomorrow, next week, or next month, would all of the hours spent watching television, surfing the Internet, listening to the IPod, or Instant Messaging for the most part about absolutely nothing important whatsoever, would this have been time well spent?

The obvious answer, of course, is an emphatic “No.”

If any of us knew that our time was short, we’d probably direct our energies toward more life-giving activities, like:

·       savoring one’s spouse, parents, siblings, and relatives;

·       enjoying the kids and grandkids, the nieces and nephews, and perhaps the neighbors, too;

·       nurturing a relationship with God, one evidencing itself in some form of spiritual or corporal works of mercy; or,

·       engaging directly in the work of forgiveness so as to straighten out messed-up relationships.
 

Looking at how much time we waste on frivolous things, the graves we have dug for ourselves come all the more clearly into focus.  Most of these graves, of course, are not located in the ground.  No, they’re located in the dead, cold, careless attitude we allow to reign in our hearts.  This attitude shows forth for all the world to behold in our day-to-day existence that revolves around nothing more than going to work, coming home, flopping down on a couch, eating a microwaved dinner or Dominos pizza, then flopping down on the couch again, only to get up and go to bed and, then, to get up the next morning (assuming that there will be a tomorrow) only to repeat the same, tired, old cycle all over again, again, and again.  Sure, there is quantity to this life, relatively speaking, but there is absolutely no quality to this life, except to those who call it a life and, when challenged to get of off their duffs demand, “Stop giving me grief.  Just leave me alone!”

Jesus’ short life provides an example of how to live a quality life, that is, to live a Godly life.  Jesus built his life around the source of life, God, placing God and His will at the center of his existence.  All of this raises some important questions to consider:

·       Jesus said: “The Father and I are one.”  Can I say that about myself and my relationship with God?

·       Jesus said: “The Father knows me and I know him.”  Would I recognize God if God were to reveal Himself to me?  Then, too, even though I know God is all-knowing, are there parts of my life that I try to hide from God?

·       Jesus said: “I’ve come to do the will of my heavenly Father.”  Am I aware that God has created me for an important purpose—my personal vocation—and know what God’s will is for me?

·       Jesus said: “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me by the Father.” In my daily life, am I using the quantity of time I have—however long or short it may be—to do God’s work?
 

Like Jesus, people who center their lives in God—transforming the quantity of time they have into a sacrament (“an outward sign giving grace”)—live to the max.  And yet, there are so many people—perhaps you and me at times—without that spiritual center.  Ezekiel likens these people to “dry bones” buried in a grave in some barren, God-forsaken desert.

Jesus wasn’t there when Lazarus died and wept upon hearing the news of his friend’s death.  Jesus also wasn't there when we’ve died spiritually and wept when he heard we died spiritually.  But, just as Jesus proceeded to the tomb of his friend, Lazarus, so also Jesus has come to all of us who’ve frittered our time away and who’ve dug graves for ourselves, graves in which we’ve become very comfortable (the grave we call “our routine”).  And, just as Jesus commanded Lazarus, “Come out!”, so Jesus also says to us, “Come out!”

This is God’s voice—the Word of God—beckoning us to rise from our self-chosen graves, to have our burial bands unbound, and to use the quantity of time we are now given—it’s not really our time but God’s time—to live a quality life: as we center our lives in God, make God’s will our will, and live our lives to the max.

 

 

 

mail2.gif (2917 bytes)      Does today’s homily raise any question(s) that you would like
                   me to respond to? Mail your question(s) by double clicking on
               
    the mailbox. I will respond to your question(s) at my first
                   available opportunity.


   Double click on this button to return to the homily
                                         webpage.