Week 20  A, by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

We owe a deep debt of gratitude for the nameless Canaanite woman in today’s Gospel reading. If it weren’t for her we might not be sitting in this church today. In the society of her day she counted for nothing: she was a woman, a Canaanite, a foreigner, and undocumented worker if you will; she nags and pesters the disciples and her great spiritual quality is her persistence.

Matthew, a Jew, wrote his Gospel for a Jewish audience. Jesus is presented as the Messiah, the fulfillment of all the Old Testament prophecies. The Gospel is divided into five distinct sections mirroring the five books of the Torah, the bedrock of Jewish belief and practice. It is important to remember too that Jesus was, first of all, a Jew and as He grew up he understood His role within the Jewish milieu of His day. His followers were not know as Christians until some eleven to fifteen years after His death and resurrection. These facts make today’s Gospel all the more powerful and all the more important for Matthew’s Jewish listeners and readers.

In today’s Gospel we see Jesus growing in His understanding of His role as Messiah. It is this Canaanite woman who broadened his perspective. At first Jesus thought of his role as only for His own Jewish people but the persistence of this woman teaches Him otherwise. Foreigners were considered dogs – and nothing was to be shared with them; though they could scavenge for the scraps left in the streets, doorways and garbage dumps. Not a whole lot unlike the way we treat outsiders and foreigners of our own day.

The persistence of Great Faith changed Jesus’ mind. This nameless woman overcame all the barriers of race, nationality, sexuality and religion in one persistent plea – not for herself but for the healing of her daughter. Jesus bestows, not only healing for her daughter but a great title upon her “O WOMAN OF GREAT FAITH.”

Often we can see the goodness in others they cannot see in themselves. Often others can see goodness in us that we cannot see in ourselves. This woman could see in Jesus something that even his disciples could not see, maybe even something that Jesus could not see in Himself until the power of great and persistent faith met on a pathway between Tyre and Sidon – foreign territory.

It is often in foreign territory, territory that is unfamiliar to us that we discover our hidden strengths; and discover the talents, gifts and abilities others can bring to our territory. As a seminarian I worked for two summers in the migrant fields near Layton Utah, twenty-five miles north of Salt Lake City. For one of those weeks I spent the entire time with the workers in the fields, picking the crops, washing where they washed, sleeping where they slept – it darn near killed me, backbreaking work that few Americans would ever want or could to do. Despite the hardships there was faith and there was joy in the singing of songs around late night campfires in the same fields they harvested in the heat of the day.

This gospel invites us to look more broadly, to see who we need invite into our circle of life, to think of all the nameless women and men who feed us, show us extraordinary faith and joy; and we are invited to be transformed by them as Jesus was by the nameless Canaanite woman in today’s gospel.

Third Sunday of Easter, 2008, by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

Last week the question was asked, “do we believe in Easter?” This week the question is, “do we see the risen Christ of Easter in our lives?” Our scriptures for the Easter season are loaded with examples of the followers of Jesus experiencing him after His death on the cross. What did they experience? What did they see? There is no doubt that they experienced Him and there is no doubt that they saw – something. On center stage today we have Peter, who denied he even knew Jesus, standing up – proclaiming loudly and boldly that Jesus is indeed risen from the dead. Where did he get this courage, certainly not from some wistful wishing, or pie in the sky hoping; no something very deep and profound must have caused this complete change in attitude. Peter has the staring role in the first eight chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, as Paul does in the second part of Acts. Both witnesses witness as a result of a deep and personal encounter with the risen Christ.

And from the gospel today, what did the two disciples on the Road to Emmaus actually “see?” We know that it involved reflection on the Scriptures (praying over them if you will), as they recalled, “Were not our hearts burning within us as He explained the scriptures to us.” And we know that it also involved “the breaking of the bread.” Does any of this sound at all familiar? Someone remarked this week, at one of the daily masses that it seems that Jesus did an awful lot of eating – before and after the resurrection. Is there a clue in this? I think there is. Peter, Paul on the road to Damascus, the two disciples on the Road to Emmaus, the disciples in the upper room and many others are our ancestors in faith; and it seems to me that since they experienced Jesus as risen from the dead we too ought to have that experience; and I believe we can and do.

It is said that, “familiarity breeds contempt.” Maybe it ought to be said that familiarity breeds blindness. Many of you know I have a passion for photography. A rule of thumb I have is that the closer I am to home, the more difficult it is to find something to photograph. Local familiarity makes things disappear, we just don’t notice them anymore. Yet, if I go to some place completely new – there is no shortage of photographic subjects. Part of going to someplace new is the expectation that we will encounter something interesting; an expectation that is clouded over when we leave the house in the morning.

It is not a question as to whether or not Jesus is present among us, the question is do we expect to see and experience Jesus; in the scriptures, in the breaking of the bread, in the ordinary moments of our lives this coming week? Think of the first time you ever received Communion. Think of the first time you saw your first child. Think of the time, the moment, when you fell in love – miracle moments one and all. Those moments are happening all around us; but are we looking for them, allowing them in, expecting to see them.

It seems to me that what Jesus is doing on the Road to Emmaus, is raising those disciples’ expectations – as Jesus did with all others who come to believe in Him. We need to pray – that the risen Christ raise our expectations – and actively seek and look for Jesus where He is to be found – present among us until the end of time.

Homily, First Sunday of Lent - 2008, by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

Today we begin our Lenten exile. Each of us have been born out of God's Holy Silence, and we are destined to return to God's Holy Silence.  God too went into exile, when God's Word became flesh in Jesus in Bethelem.  In the Incarnation, God came to be in exile with us, so we could be touched, cared for, loved and forgiven by God's Holy touch.  We join Jesus as he was exiled into the dry barren desert. Our Gospel tells us that the Spirit led Jesus into a place of exile; some translations say He was “driven” into exile in the desert. One way or the other we need at times to go into exile; to identity with the poorest of the poor, to become nobodies so we can find our true selves. It is in the quiet and solitude of desert places that we find that we ourselves are in fact exiles. This is why we are often reluctant to go into such territory. In our quest for fame, fortune, reputation, notoriety, in our lusts for power and control we, in quiet and solitude, find that we are exiled from our true selves and that we are going in the wrong direction to find ourselves in God, that we are God’s Beloved.

Jesus in the desert is tempted by wealth, power, prestige; Jesus, in saying no to all of this is stripped of everything; left only with the unconditional love of His heavenly Father, and in that finds his true self and his destiny. This is precisely what we will find if we dare to be led by the Spirit into our Lenten desert of exile.

Our theme this Lent is welcoming the exiled. The boulder in the center of the sanctuary is a reminder of how large some problems may be to reconcile and welcome: we are estranged, exiled, from people who are not like us: people relocated because of war, storms, drought, famine, undocumented workers, aliens and strangers all who need our welcome. We are at times estranged, exiled from parents, family, relative – even friends who have become aliens and strangers who need our welcome. We isolate and insulate ourselves from our environment, disconnected we don’t value God’s creation as we ought. And, we are often exiled from ourselves by failing to create space, time and solitude to commune with the One who loves us unconditionally, whoes beloved we are.

We ask you to prayerfully consider what needs to be welcome home in your lives, as individuals and as a community of faith here at St. Philip Neri.   We, like the women at the tomb on Easter morning wonder who will move the boulder, and we like them find that it is the power of the Resurrection, living in that power that moves the boulders in our lives that seem impossible.  Let us walk boldly into our destiny of Easter Faith, assisting one another in our weaknesses, supporting one another with our strengths, for we can do together what we cannot do alone.

Christmas Eve – 2007 Homily by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

Was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring – not even a mouse. //// Sung by choir:… Silent night ----- holy night, all is calm, all is bright… ////… and Shepherds were keeping night watch over their flocks. There is a stillness on this Holy Night unmatched by any other night of the year -- a kind of hush, all over the world… unlike any other. The only disturbance to the quiet and solitude of this Holy Night is the cry of God’s Word made Flesh in a manger; to a people that walked in darkness and hoped for a Messiah.

We are still a people who walk in darkness, and hope for a Messiah. Karl Rahner, noted Catholic theologian, prayed thus: “the darkness is still with us, O Lord… You are still hidden and the world which you have made does not want to know your or receive you… You are still the hidden child in a world grown old… You are still obscured by the veils of this world’s history, you are still destined not to be acknowledged in the scandal of your death on the cross…”

You see, the wood of the manger and the wood of the cross are the one and same wood. The wood of the manger that cradled new life is also the wood, which received the deadly nails opening eternal life to you and me and all who believe. The wood stands in silent witness to the hidden Lord of all things…

Rahner continued to pray, “But I O hidden Lord of all things, boldly affirm my faith in you. In confessing you, I take my stand with you… and when I make this vow of faith, it must pierce the depths of my heart – like a sword, I must bend my knee before you, saying, I must alter my life, for I have still to become a Christian.
Just as Jesus was hidden by world events on that first Christmas night, so the Christ child – harbinger of peace – is hidden by our world events. Mary and Joseph aren’t making the arduous trek from Nazareth to Bethlehem to give birth to the God-Hero, Wonder-Counselor, Prince of Peace; but because a census of the world had been ordered by the Roman Emperor. Families were torn from their homes, forced to seek food and refuge in strange places - among strangers and Mary and Joseph have the added anxiety of where Mary will give birth to their child.

The only people not moving about by order of the Emperor were the shepherds, because they counted for nothing – not even counted as human by the powerful forces of politics or basic human dignity. They just kept on doing what they do, keeping night watch over their flocks – marveling at the brightness of the stars – that first Christmas night; only they were quiet and still enough to hear the cry of God’s Word made Flesh – that something in the heavens above and earth below – something important was stirring.

The people who walked in darkness, that first Holy Night, pretty much got up the next morning walking in darkness – burdened by travel, daily chores, kept behind the veil of history and politics behind the veil of power and control of ruthless leaders; kept from seeing what was stirring – kept from seeing what is truly important.

Just as Jesus, the Christ child first came to strangers, nomads, shepherds, wanderers; so we as the body of the Christ-child must come… and welcome the alien, stranger, those who feel unwanted or disenfranchised by our Church – welcome all who seek this peace we celebrate here this evening. We must bear the wood of the manger and cradle new life, and we must stand as witness to the wood of the cross – nailing--putting to death all injustice, hatred, prejudice wherever we find it.

The birth of the Christ child – the Incarnation – the Word made Flesh entered and altered human history. So we must give birth to the Christ-child within us – to alter the way we lives our lives – to incarnate – give birth to the Word in all our affairs. We, as Rahner says – still need to become Christian – to reveal the hidden Christ in our midst this evening; so all, every creature will know that God is Emmanuel – God with us; as we continually pray Maranatha – Come Lord Jesus.

31 Week of Ordinary Time - November 3-4, 2007 Homily by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP. Given at Our Lady of Sorrows, Portland, Oregon

The story we hear in today’s Gospel is one we are all familiar with, one we can probably tell from memory. What is your image of Zacchaeus? I think of him as young, agile and curious. In reality he is an outcast, no one wanted much to do with him, shunned by his own people because he exacts taxes from his own people for the Roman Empire, so he is seen as a traitor. Despite all this he is a generous person, unlike many of his fellow tax collectors, he give to the poor and defrauds no one; he is one going the extra mile for those who think badly of him. So, we have the image of Zacchaeus up in a tree.

The other part of the scene is Jesus in the middle of a huge crowd – both the dubious and the curious. The sight of a large crowd usually means someone famous, or infamous is around – we often think of large crowds, full churches or huge stadiums as signs of success but Jesus turns that idea upside down. You wouldn’t think that Jesus would notice a tax collector up in a tree but that is precisely what he does notice. Jesus singles Zacchaeus out and says, “Zacchaeus, come down, I want to have dinner at your house tonight.” The outcast has been accepted, welcomed and made the center of attention and care.

The crowd grumbles – the elite of society are appalled that Jesus would forgo their company for the company of a traitor, an outcast. Time and time again this is what Jesus does, seeks out the lost and lonely, the outcast and unwanted. This gives us a very strong indication as to the direction our ministry as Church, and as individuals ought to take.

Henri Nouwen, one of the 20th Century’s leading Catholic spiritual writers writes that those who are marginal in the world are central in the church. As members of the Body of Christ, the Church we must keep going to the margins of our society; the homeless, starving, the emotionally disturbed, the sick and dying, these and so many others require our first attention. The Church will always be renewed when our attention shifts from ourselves to those who need our care.

Jesus Christ was and is an Evangelizer, a fancy word meaning to bring good news, the Gospel. As Church and as members in Christ our primary activity, in all that we do, is to be Evangelizers, bringers of Good News to those who need to hear it. Evangelization ought to be the backdrop for all that we do, from washing the dishes, driving our cars, visiting the sick, feeding the hungry or being at prayer as we are right now. This does not mean getting on a soapbox, or always chatting about pious things (they are more of a turn off than anything else) but it means doing all that we do with intention – do all with love and compassion, doing all so as to be open and welcoming. We do it as Jesus did, in the midst of all the kinds of crowds we find ourselves in, always keeping an eye out for those who need a helping and compassionate hand.

When we can look into the eyes of a child, or the homeless on Burnside and see our sister or brother then we are walking as Jesus intends us to walk, welcoming others into our lives as Jesus welcomed all who came upon Him. It is in reaching out in love to others that our own faith grows and deepens; our own awareness of Christ living among us becomes a living reality for us.

27 Week of Ordinary Time - October 6-7, 2007 Homily by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP. Given at All Saints Catholic Church, Portland, Oregon

The word is out, we have been found out – we are a faithless lot. We cry out as the apostles did, “increase our faith”. And Jesus says to us, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed you could say to this mulberry tree – be uprooted and planted into the sea”. I doubt, as a community of believers, we could go outside and say to any tree on the propriety be uprooted and plant it in the Willamette. What are we to do? Are we really so terribly faith-less?
The cry of Habakkuk could be our cry as well, “How long O Lord am I to cry for help while you will not listen; …you set injustice before me, outrage and violence…” This passage of scripture could have been ripped from our own daily headlines. Unarmed Buddhist monks are gunned down in the streets of Burma – their core tenant to “do no harm” spilled out on the streets in the name of justice and peace. If we are not outraged we are not paying attention. I was appalled to find out that there are more contract “security” people in Iraq than military, 180,000 to 160,000 US troops, troops who are ill equipped to deal with the untenable situation they have been placed in. I can only conclude that it is money, power and control of resources that are driving the continuous excuses for collateral damage among women and children we are suppose to be protecting and setting free. If we are not outraged, we are not paying attention. All this and so much more can leave us paralyzed – moved to take the only action that seams reasonable – to crawl into bed and pull the covers over our heads.
As we gather in prayer here this morning, with all that is going on outside these walls our faith can seem so very small and ineffectual. But that is not the case at all. Our responsorial psalm calls out to us, “If today you hear God’s voice, harden not your hearts”. This is one of my favorite psalms, for each day, in each person, in every event small and large in our lives God’s voice is calling out to us; and our task is to harden not our hearts and to take action in the cause of compassion, love, justice and peace – to be peace makers and doers.
St. Paul reminds us to, “fan into a flame the gift that God has placed within each of us, that seed of faith – small as it might be for we have been called and entrusted with the task of looking after something precious – the faith and power of God in us than can renew the face of the earth.
The how we do this is contained in the Gospel. What do we do with those who are of service to us? Do we immediately become servant to the servants; paying just and living wages so they too may enjoy a home, food, family and friends? Do we come to the aid of those who fall between the cracks of our society – all those who have no access to healthcare, access to living wages or just the offer of human dignity. When we can walk up and down Burnside and see in the homeless, disposed and disenfranchised as our brothers and sisters and not as problems to be stepped over, we are setting aflame that seed of faith that can move mountains. We can do together what we can’t do alone.
Each of us must grab hold of the witness power of the Catholic Community; Catholic Social Services were the first on the scene after Katrina inundated New Orleans, The Downtown Chapel serves, houses and protects many of our city’s homeless and hungry, the Vatican is beginning to speak boldly about climate change and our responsibility to care for all of creation; there are pockets of care, compassion and concern for homeless youth, pregnant teens, elderly the list can go on and on; each is one small seed of faith and vision and if we offer our seeds of faith we do become a mighty tree of life that can move mountains and renew the face of the earth.

11th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Homily by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

Off and on there is a lot of debate on how to image God; male or female, it, and the scriptures give us so many images: rock, mother hen, burning bush, shepherd and so many others. However God is really beyond all these categories and descriptions – God is in a class alone – God is a Jewish Mother.

In our first reading Nathan relays to David what God is saying: I anointed you, I rescued you, I gave you a house for all your wives, (we will discuss that issue at a later date) even gave you the House of Israel and Judah – and God goes on that there is much more besides. In other words God is saying to David “look at all I’ve done for you – and this is how you treat me.” Don’t you love your mama? And David’s response “I’m sorry !!” Well, okay David – you are my favorite – but should’a been a doctor!

Okay! – I’m sorry – that’s it? That is all it took to save David from death and God's judgment? Evidently! Forgiveness comes easy to God. It doesn’t come as easy for us. I’ll bet we’ve made a lot of subtle judgments about David, his womanizing, lack of gratitude and judgments about the Woman who came to dinner in the Gospel. History has labeled her a prostitute, but there is no indication of that in the Gospel. I suspect she was only guilty of party crashing. Often we want blood from a turnip – we seek revenge rather than forgiveness – we want to get even – wipe the slate clean and make sure we come out on top. One, like God, who is infinitely loving doesn’t have to worry about losing face, doesn’t have to worry about coming out on top – realizes that it isn’t about winning and loosing it is about drawing people into communion. If you can’t imagine that kind of love, then you’ve never met a real Jewish Mother.

What about this Woman who came to dinner? Why would this Woman, or any woman for that matter want to enter that den of judgmental hypocrites? I wonder if she was even invited – probably not – there is no indication that she was – so how do we find this Woman in this particular circumstance? We find her there because she is the prophet in this case -- not Jesus – but this Woman is the prophet! She boldly enters the narrow confines and mindsets of the Pharisees. She is there to broaden their horizons. She forgave before others could or would offer hospitality and forgiveness. She saw in Jesus what the others could not possibly see, what with their judging mindset.

She knew that because of the presence of Jesus she’d be welcomed, forgiven, brought into communion. What about those tears? We have presumed they were tears of regret, or sorrow -- they may have been tears of joy in what she found in the person of Jesus. Jesus acknowledges that they had JUDGED rightly but the question I am sure Jesus asked was “have you LOVED rightly?” Judging narrows our vision – loving expands our vision. Jesus asked Simon “Do you see this Woman?” He and they didn’t – they probably tried to ignore her – they certainly didn’t look lovingly into her eyes to see all the goodness that Jesus could see in her.
The infinite love of God dwells in Jesus – taught to him by a loving Jewish Mother – Mary, and Paul tells us that that love of Jesus needs to dwell in us. We need to get to that point where we can’t tell the difference between us, and Christ who dwells in us, in love.

This Gospel is about our ministry as a Paulist parish – of hospitality, welcome and healing. Would that all those we and society considers unclean, unwanted, unloved or unlovable would come here – not so we can change them but that they can change us. The love of Jesus needs to impels us to go where no one else has ever gone before. The love of Jesus impels us to forgive – to welcome – to offer hospitality in ways we have never thought about before.

When we can see in the homeless person on Burnside, the starving in Dafur, the gay or lesbian neighbor, Muslims and migrants seeking a better way of life, the divorced, separated, and all others who share our imperfections – when we can see in them our sisters and brothers; then we will begin to love as a Jewish Mother, begin to love as Jesus loves us.

Easter 2007 - Homily by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

The women went to the tomb early that first Easter morning to take care of business; to do the customary anointing of their dead friend ~ Jesus. They had practically matters on their minds. Who would help roll the stone away from the entrance? They probably worried about the stench, and the grizzly ~ tortured body they would see. These were resolute ~ determined women, ready to face the worse to do their appointed task. The guys – they stayed home – overcome with fear – failure – feelings of abandonment. They make the bumper sticker absolutely true which says “when you want the job done right – ask a woman.”

Within a few short moments they would have to completely re-orientate their lives: the stone had been rolled away, the tomb – empty, and angels proclaiming He is Risen – go back home, to Jerusalem, to greet the One who loves you; which they did immediately – in fear and trembling joy with news too good to be true! Then the infamous footrace between Peter and John – for them seeing is believing – and they too are pointed back home to greet the one who’s love is stronger than death.

Never before and never since has there been a morning like that first Easter morning. Tertullian, one of the early Church Fathers, once commented that Christ said He was the truth – Christ did not say He was the custom. The women learned immediately that there was nothing customary about the first Easter morning. There would be nothing customary about their lives from then on, and there ought to be nothing customary – ordinary about our lives this Easter morning.

Just as The Cross and the Passion of the Christ is not a done deal, neither is Easter a done deal – it continues to this very hour. This very hour, around the world there are passions, which weigh people down: hunger, homelessness, unjust and illegal wars, sectarian divisions; and un-reconciled divides among families, friends and associates. The Passion of the Christ lives on in this very hour but so too does the Resurrection and restoration we gather to celebrate in Christ this morning.

We have ventured out of our homes this morning with very different expectations than the women on that first Easter morning. We came, not worried about the stench, certainly not to see anything grizzly but to see beautiful flowers, to hear grand music (and hopefully a decent homily) and we come presuming that we know the answer to the question – did Jesus rise from the dead? YES! But that is not our question, our question is – have we risen from the dead?

In so many ways, on so many levels we would just rather settle for the debate – and smugly state that we know the answer – Jesus did rise from the dead. The present issues of Time and Newsweek, the History, National Geographic and science channels are filled with debatable programming: who is Jesus, did His rise from the dead, how many brothers and sisters did he have and the granddaddy of all questions “What Would Jesus Do?” Again it is the wrong question, the question is what will we do in the light of the incredible good news that we celebrate here this morning?

We have been set free – free to be passionate in the ongoing resurrection – restoration of our world: to be passionate in making a fundamental option for the poor and oppressed, to be passionate about our planet and the proper use of her resources, to be passionate about reconciling differences within our families, in our society – and within the family we call Church, to be passionate about women’s prophetic role in the church – carrying on the tradition of proclaiming the resurrection and restoration those first women proclaimed on the first Easter morning. There ought be nothing customary, nothing ordinary about our response to life, in light of the life we celebrate here, in this hour, this morning.

Good Friday 2007Homily- by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

Good Friday is not about The Cross, nails and pain, nor the blood sweat and tears; Good Friday is about hopes and dreams ~ about the impossible becoming possible.
Our celebration this evening is about Jesus but it is also about the host of characters on the sidelines along the Via De LaRosa; it is about all who placed their trust and hope in Jesus ~ and about all who would, through the centuries, place their trust and hope in Jesus ~ it is about US!

Nikos Kazantzakis, in his autobiography, wrote: “on these pages are drops of my blood, which mark my journey among people’s passions and ideas. Anyone worthy of being called a human but mount their Golgotha, be crucified and rise again.” The question for us is: where is our journey, where is our passion leading us; do we even have an overriding passion? (PAUSE)

We often say that Jesus died for the sins of the world – I would suggest that Jesus did far more than that; Jesus shows us a way, a path through death to new possibilities. enabling us “to right the un-rightable wrong…”

The Passion of Christ continues to this very hour: deforestation of our rain forests, famine and hunger, homelessness, global warming, the right to a living wage, child and slave labor; and the passion continues to this very hour in our own lives: the death of friends and loved ones, loss of health and vitality, people and situations that need reconciliation – the list can go on and on. The Passion of Christ lives within each of us. There are those who can only see as far as The Cross and Good Friday; but we are not Good Friday people we are Easter people.

The salvation of the world, and each one of us, is something that continues to this very hour. Baptized into Jesus Christ we are baptized into His mission – we too are called to take on the sin of the world. We are to engage, with passion, the restoration of our full humanity. Our lives, at various levels, ought to make a difference – at home, in our neighborhoods, society, and our planet and beyond. The Cross is not a done deal – it is an ongoing event – the salvation in Christ is not a done deal – it is an ongoing event.

This evening we remember the Passion of Christ to make it a living presence among us and to carry it forward in our lives; we are to dream the dreams and make the impossible – possible.

Homily for Lent Week 2 by Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP
Given at St. Anthony's Parish in Tigard Oregon
Sometimes God really tickles me, as in today’s first reading from Genesis. Hey, Abram – you gotta come out and see this! See what? All these stars, aren’t they fantastic!? I made those you know; and guess what – your descendents are going to be as numerous as all those stars! When was the last time you were invited to “come out” and just wonder – or when was the last time you did that for yourself? Years ago my cousin Bonnie and I would go out and lay on the lawn in front of our grandparents’ cabin near Lake Shasta – and we’d just look up at all those stars – and just wonder about nothing in particular – just wonder! One time Bonnie turned to me and said – you know, someday you are going to be a priest. WHAT! That thought had never even entered my mind at the time – I wanted to be an airline pilot; but obviously she planted something in that moment that stuck. Moments of wonder and awe are like that – they can take us in ways we never thought of. It would be another couple of years before I made the decision to enter the Paulist Fathers but for that story you are going to have to attend the parish mission. It is a pretty good story too.

Another person that really tickles me is Peter. Today’s gospel is another story of awe and wonder. Jesus takes Peter, James and John up the mountain, away from all the fuss of daily life and is transfigured before their very eyes. What really happened on Mount Tabor that day? It was a moment of INSIGHT – a moment, a flash when Peter, James and John saw Jesus for who he really is – the fulfillment of the Law represented by Moses and the Prophets represented by Elijah. It was a WOW experience! When was the last time you had a WOW experience?

Peter tickles me because he is so much like us, or we are so much like him. He’s had this incredible experience and he wants it to last forever. “Ah, it is so good that we are here – let me build three tents – one for each of you.” He’s very generous – not six tents, just tents for Moses, Elijah and Jesus. Peter wants to nail this moment down; he wants it to last forever. However, the moment he tries to “nail” God down it all vanishes in an instant. It is all gone – just the three of them and finally they walk down the mountain back into the fuss and noise of daily life.

This gospel outlines the pattern of our lives – up the mountain, down the mountain – moments of wonder and awe and times of routine and ordinary affairs. Perhaps these days we find ourselves more in the valleys, more in times of the daily grind and routine. We are inundated by bad news: radio, television, the computer – in many ways we are on data overload – we seem to never be out of contact, except with what really matters: friends, relatives even strangers. I don’t know about you but I often find myself desperate to fill up my life with distractions from the ordinary – I am a gadget freak; but when I am honest with myself what I really need is an attitude of solitude and moments of real solitude away from the crowd. I need these moments so that I am able to see the extraordinary in the ordinary – I need these moments “away” so that the ordinary become extraordinary.

In the gospel of Luke we see Jesus constantly going off to a lonely place to pray and commune with his Father. He did this not so much to escape but to see more clearly the path He was walking – see more clearly the people in His life that needed companionship, healing and the teaching that God loves everyone unconditionally. If Jesus needed such times, how much more do we need them.

I hope that our parish mission, I’d rather call it a retreat, can be this time away for all of us; a time when we can tickle one another, and deepen our awareness of the extraordinary nature of our lives – no matter how ordinary they may seem.

Homily for Week Six of Ordinary Time, By Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

Last weekend Fr. Rich raised a very simple question: “Why have you come to church today?” The question is still on the table this weekend. Allow me to expand the question: “Why do we go anywhere at all?” Why, for example, do we go out to dinner, to a movie or party, a concert or garage sale, to the Coast, mountains, shopping and yes even to church?” Let me suggest that we go to these, and many other events and places, in the hope of finding and experiencing something NEW – and subtly we go that our lives might be changed – hopefully for the better. The week before last my dad and I went to the coast, to Nehalem – to soak in the beauty and solitude of the Oregon Coast – to soak in the experiencing being with old friends; to be nurtured, fed, renewed, and yes, changed by the experience. Jeremiah says: “Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings, who seeks strength in flesh.” To meet another person, to take part in an event only for our own self-interests is a dead end experience. Jeremiah also says: “Blessed is the one who trusts in God, whose hope is in God.” To have this focus is to approach friends, events, places expecting to find something NEW; opens us to new possibilities, opens us to the possibility of being changed.

So, we come here today not to DO SOMETHING for God but to have SOMETHING DONE to us by God. We gather here not to change or placate an angry or loving God, not even to find favor with God; we come to be changed by what has already been done for us, namely God’s gift of Jesus risen from the dead – and the new life pouring forth through the centuries to this very moment of our gathering here in prayer.

I have to admit that for the most part I live trusting other people – I worry about what other people think, how they will react, will they like me and my motives are made clear when I hear today’s beatitudes in the Gospel: I don’t like the idea of being poor, even in spirit, hungry, weeping, and I certainly don’t like being insulted; no I’d much rather be rich, consoled, satisfied and filled up with all sorts of stuff – and being thought well of. This Gospel, Jesus, is telling me that I have a lot work to do on myself. This Gospel is an indictment of my comfortable life-style. This Gospel is an indictment of my fears that lead me to slavery of thought and action on behalf of the world’s most vulnerable, my wants that are often paid for by indentured slave labor in China and Southeast Asia, my greed which saps our environment’s limited ability to sustain us, my worry about what other people may think which fuels the ongoing oppression and prejudice against all those who lives and life-styles we find unacceptable. There is so much work that I need to allow God to do in me.

So, why have we come to this church today? I am here because I don’t have any other place to go. There is no other place I can go to be faced with what needs to be changed in me – and receive the tools – call it grace and strength – to carry out in my life the necessary changes. There is no other place I can go and hear that I don’t have to live in fear – where I can learn that I don’t have to makes others look small so I can look large, no other place where I can be challenged and strengthened to speak to the evils which enslave us. If I do not go forth from here today – and fail to make at least one change for the better in the people and events that I will face this week – I snuff out what ever life and blessing we receive here this morning. God comes to us today with life and blessing – and we are to go forth and give that life and blessing in all our affairs.

CHRISTMAS HOMILY -- 2006

By Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP
Last Thursday on CNN there was a report about a stolen baby Jesus from a manger scene in front of a home in Buffalo, New York. Evidently, a couple of days before Christmas, a year ago, the baby Jesus was taken. Last Wednesday it was returned, found, unharmed, lying on the front steps of the home from which it was taken – but there was an addition – a photo album called The Baby Jesus Chronicles of where the baby Jesus had been throughout the year. One picture was that of the baby Jesus seat-belted into the front seat of a car – traveling somewhere in Upstate New York. There was obviously sadness last year when the figure was taken away, happiness this year upon its return. The mystery is where was the baby Jesus during the year?
We have this morning, the Gospel of Luke, another chronicle of the events, the movements, at the beginning of Jesus’ life. Today’s story is the beginning of an extraordinary journey, which endures to this very moment in our lives; and this chronicle involves a lot of movement as well. What we celebrate today is not just the birth of a child we celebrate a moment in time when heaven and earth touched – met – kissed and embraced each other. It is so important to remember that we don’t celebrate an historical event in the ordinary sense we use the word historical. This extraordinary historical event not only took place at a specific moment, in a very particular place – it is taking place right now, in our moment, in our place right here by our remembering and seeing the event happening right now. Meister Eckhart, fourteenth century mystic once said: “what good is it that Jesus was born of a Virgin – if we do not give birth to the Son of God in our lives today?”

Our difficulty in seeing the Christ Child among us today isn’t all that more difficult than it was for those living in Palestine two thousand years ago. To be able to see The Christ among us requires the same abilities it required through all past generations of believers. Maybe the travelers at the Denver International airport had a leg up on us with the recent snowstorm that brought that airport and city to a halt. There was a clip of one family on CNN trying to make the best of it (it seems that I get all my spiritual insight from CNN) when the dad of a family said: “well – we have gone from anger to denial to acceptance, and we have tried to make a little community here – and we are meeting all sorts of new friends from all over the country.” THAT’S IT! Trying to see, let alone create a moment of beauty in the midst of a very imperfect world. That is what God did in the town of Bethlehem – it is what Mary and Joseph did when they found no room in the Inn – that is what the shepherds saw – silently tending their flocks on that starry night. Acceptance is the key to happiness – Mary’s acceptance of the words of Gabriel – Joseph’s acceptance of the Word he received to take Mary as his wife, even their acceptance of inhumane political power which moved them from the comfort of their home to a cold cave on the outskirts of Bethlehem – all of this acceptance thwarted the powers of this world and allowed for the power of God to shine through.

The Incarnation – the meeting of earth and heaven, the divine Child continues to be present to us; our task is to listen – and keep constant watch for God’s appearing among us. Expectations run very high at this time of year – we put in huge amounts of effort to make the day perfect: the right gifts, the right foods, perfectly done – the gathering in of relatives and friends – decorations just so all making us extremely vulnerable to the imperfections this world imposes. We have been told by a multitude of voices what will all make this come true; but only one voice is needed: “A child has been born for us – given to us let us rejoice and be glad. Our task is to take the baby Jesus with us today – accept this extraordinarily good news today – throughout the coming year.

HOMILY FOR CHRIST THE KING, November 25-26, 2006
By: Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP
What goes around comes around. We end our liturgical year as we began it – in fear and suspicion. At the rumor of the birth of Jesus – some calling him the long awaited King of the Jews; King Herod, a Jew himself, with fear and suspicion in his heart seeks out the child -- not to welcome Him -- but to destroy Him. Herod, ruler of the small backwater territory where Jesus was born, is afraid of loosing what little power he had. In today’s Gospel Pilate is still fixated on the question, asking Jesus: “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus doesn’t really answer the question – or does he? In their fear of loosing power and control it was difficult for them to see any new possibilities. Pilate was attempting to understand Jesus in terms of power and control that he was use to; and it wasn’t working. Pilate was trying to fit Jesus into his framework and it wasn’t working.
One thing is very certain about the ministry of Jesus – He wasn’t at all interested in power and control but in the Truth that would set people free. I find it rather odd that some two thousand years later the Church put on the head of Jesus a title that He shunned – Christ the King. When we hear the images of Kingship in the Book of Daniel, there was a bitter persecution of Jews and in the Book of Revelation it is the followers of Jesus that are undergoing bitter persecution. Both books are examples of apocalyptic literature and their aim is to give a Word of Hope to a people in crisis. The people are basically asking “is there anyone in charge here?” Daniel’s answer, and John’s answer is “yes” God’s Truth will prevail – just hang in there.
Pope Pius the eleventh instituted today’s feast on December 11, 1925 another time when things were nations were coming apart at the seams: the rise of communism in the East, secularism in the West, Fascism in Italy, and the questioning of Church authority. In the end it would be another failed attempt to make the Church look like the rest of society; for the Church wanted to wrest some of the dark ideological power invading the rest of the world – and transform that power into light. Well intentioned but power verses power won’t work. We see the human carnage of that approach all around us.
The Truth of God in Jesus stands before the power of Pilate in today’s gospel. Jesus refuses to become like Pilate – Jesus isn’t interested in getting a little corner of power for Himself – Jesus is only interested in total transformation. And where is the source of this total transformation – in listening – listening to one another – listening to the Truth of God within each of us; “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” The Truth of God stood before the power of Pilate in the frail human body of Jesus; but the transforming energy of the Truth in Jesus before Pilate resulted in the Resurrection – the destruction of all the powers of darkness.
I believe we could double – triple the attendance here at St. Philips: put in a Starbucks for our gatherings after mass and other events, a gym, pool, hot tubs open to the neighborhood – I will let you add whatever other luxuries you would like – then we’d look like everyone one else – we would be VERY attractive – but that isn’t the gospel, that isn’t transformation. As with Jesus transformation takes place one person at a time: through concern for the environment (the Columbia River Pastoral Letter), giving to our food pantry, attending our suppers and luncheons, involvement in Muddy Boot, Mac-G and the Catholic caucus – becoming members of our Altar Society, Holy Names – Young Adults group -- those who participate in our children’s religious ed program and RCIA – and most important of all offering personal invitations to family, friends, co-workers to come and pray with us – come and listen to the transforming Word of Truth in Jesus Christ.

Thanksgiving Day Homily by: Fr. Michael E. Evernden, CSP

Last Sunday evening the History Channel ran its program “Desperate Crossing” detailing a side of the Mayflower passage from oppression to freedom most of us have never heard about.

Somehow I always knew, even as a kid, that the images we have of the original Thanksgiving dinner was a bit far fetched – too idyllic. And so it was.

The Mayflower was a cargo ship, not fitted out for passengers who were packed and stacked below decks not unlike the slave traders did many years later. Violent storms, leaking ship, no wonder they cried aloud at Plymouth Rock “Thank God – We made it!” The joy of arrival out shown the hardships already endured and yet to come. Half the population would die within the next four months, weakened by the miserable shipboard conditions and a Thanksgiving Feast lasting three days that severely depleted their food supplies at the very onset of winter.

Throughout history there have been many desperate crossings, from slavery to freedom; the Israelites through the Red Sea, across the English Channel on D-Day, Martin Luther King igniting the civil rights movement with only a dream on the Washington Mall. All desperate crossings involve blood, sweat and tears – consider Mexicans and other looking in hope across the expanse of our southern deserts. And we experience them on a family and individual level as well; my own passage from the slavery of alcohol to the freedom of sobriety – just one example of the many desperate crossings most of us make at one time or another.

As we stand before the peril of Global Warming, the need to bring an unjust war in Iraq to an immediate end, for equality for women in the Church, banishment of famine, starvation, hunger, homelessness – the need for prophetic leadership in the church rather than defining ourselves by who we can keep out or away from this Thanksgiving table but by speaking the Truth of God's Word to power; all desperate crossings yet to be accomplished. As we continue to make these desperate crossings we will join our voices with those who have gone before us, like Martin Luther King, and say “Free at Last, Free at last, thank God almighty we’re free at last.” Thank God – we made it.

Today is a day to give thanks, a day for feasting, so long as it is not at the expense of others, and it is so very good that we gather around this Thanksgiving table and the one in our homes later today. It is not something we ought to put off, or feel guilty about – not at all – we need moments of Thanksgiving for they nourish us, sustain us, encourage us in the many desperate crossings yet to come.
32nd Sunday of Ordinary Time, November 11-12, 2006
By: Fr.Michael E. Evernden, CSP
There is a time to feel large, and a time to feel small. I love astronomy – it keeps me in perspective – reveals my smallness. There are some 300 billion stars in the Milky Way, our galaxy. It is estimated that there are slightly more stars in the entire universe than there are grains of sand on all the beaches of the world – and there are far more planets than there are stars in the universe.

There are over six billion people on our planet. 850 million will go to bed hungry tonight – including 38 million Americans, which includes over 15 million children here at home. Staggering numbers all. These number may make us feel like going out on a starry night and look up in wonder or make us feel like going home, hitting the bed and pulling all the covers over us.

Amid the grandeur of space and the numberless problems of homelessness hunger and violence we face, we hear of two old and frail widows in today’s readings. These two widows, living around 538BC and 30-something AD, meant nothing and had no status in the societies in which they lived; just two women who live on in the pages of our scriptures. We know not their names – only their quiet deeds and extraordinary faith.

Both women had to put up with a lot. Here comes Elijah, exhausted from a journey – sees this women gathering sticks, and we would think almost rudely asks: “got milk? How about some Oreos to go with that milk?” Both have something larger in mind. This faithful daughter of Abraham and Sara; with only a hand full of flour and very little oil, with she and her child on the edge of death – knows she is in the presence of a prophet – and Elijah knows how much God loves her and says “do not be afraid, trust me,” with each trusting the other she and her son ate for the year and Elijah could continue his journey.

So too the woman in the Gospel – while the scribes and many rich people were showing off by putting huge sums of money tinkling into the treasury pot – this woman, full of faith silently put all she had into the hands of God. She too trusted – heard many times “do not be afraid,” and I have to believe that Jesus did something wonderful for her that day though we don’t know what it was.

Witnessing to our faith, living in the spirit of Jesus, is not about grabbing headlines, making a name for ourselves or trying to get all the attention. We have, here in our parish many such “silent” witnesses and their witness has profound effect on the life of our parish. This weekend we are hosting our 63rd annual our Spaghetti Supper. All week, and long before this week, parishioners have been rolling meatballs, fussing over huge pots of sauce – so that it is just right – probably had a few tiffs over just how many bay leaves to add in or salt. A host of others will serve and clean up so that all who come to our table will feel like welcome guests. And so it is with all the other activities and programs here at St. Philip’s – silent people making a loud difference. St. Pat Negal passed me in the parking lot on Thursday saying that she had written to President Bush to consider backing the Kyoto Accords on the Environment and Global Warming – a small silent act – but who knows what such a simple action can bring about.

We gather here, around the table of God’s Word and Eucharist. We gather as very ordinary folk bringing our gifts of bread and wine – our donations – our talents and abilities. Who knows what the transforming power of Jesus Christ can do with them if we only let Him. After all, look at what God did with an atom and a little gas, and a divine belch.