Homily, Ordinary Sunday 12B
Growing up in the plains of South Dakota, I’ve always loved storms. Watching the clouds roll in from miles away, to see the lightning and hear the thunder, and the pounding rain and strong winds. But I don’t think I’ve ever had to be out during a storm or suffer too much from the consequences of hail, floods, or damaging winds. It’s one thing to watch a storm roll through from inside the comfort of our homes or even from inside our vehicles, but it was something very different for the Apostles, exposed in their fishing boats on the water, with the waves piling higher, filling the boat and always threatening to sink it. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed when you have water hitting you from every direction, and the boat under your feet is constantly moving and convulsing, being tossed around on the waves.
Life always has its storms, those situations that can feel overwhelming, whether natural or man-made, at the level of international crisis like the pandemic, wars, and violent protests, down to the level of our own hearts, as we struggle and ask ourselves why we continue to make the same mistakes, to go after the same false gods, to commit the same sins time and time again. How do we react in these situations when we feel overwhelmed? What’s our instinct in the midst of the storms of life, of dangers and threats from outside or even from within our own hearts? Do we give ourselves over to fear, to anxiety, anger, and despair? Do we self-medicate by over-indulging in material pleasures? Do we place our focus on the wind and waves that are passing away? Or do we take refuge in Jesus, the unshakable One, the same yesterday, today, and forever, who is able even to sleep through the worst of storms?
I know I always found it a great comfort as I was growing up to be able to go up to the church in my hometown and find Jesus there in the tabernacle, near the red glow of the sanctuary light. No matter what else was going on in the world or in my own life, no matter what storms were raging, Jesus in the Eucharist was always there. That unshakable Rock that I could always count on. Even part of my answering a call to the priesthood came from reflecting on how great a comfort it was to always find Jesus there in the tabernacle, and how that’s really only possible because men continue to answer the call of Christ and follow Him in the holy priesthood.
Whatever else might be changing in the weeks and months ahead, whatever we find overwhelming and devastating—like being pummeled by the wind and waves of a storm—as part of Set Ablaze, Jesus remains the same and continues to invite us closer to Him. “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” Today, we celebrate and give thanks to God for all the ways that He has touched our lives and the lives of those who have gone before us through the sacraments of His Church celebrated within these walls and beyond them. Today, we place our faith in Christ that He will continue to dwell among us and provide for us and our loved ones even as the storms rage outside in the world and within our own hearts. That this church and the presence of Christ in the tabernacle here will continue to be a beacon of hope for all who stop and pray to take refuge from the storms within the shelter of God’s love.
The storms rage on, even within the boat of the Catholic Church, exposed to the wind and rain even as the fishing boat of Saint Peter had no effective cover from the storm. But Jesus is still in the boat. Even when He seems to be asleep. And the answer for you and for me is still the same. Our true Refuge is still unshaken and unshakable. Draw close to Jesus in the Eucharist. Prepare well to receive Him as often as we can, free from grave sin. That at least in us He may find a welcome home, a heart and mind and life open to Him, to bring rest and comfort to His most Sacred Heart. And that we may continue to find in Him our only true Refuge from the storm.
The Word Proclaimed 