Fr. Brian Soliven Sermons

The Church celebrates St. Luke today in the liturgy. He authored the Gospel, which bears his name, along with the Acts of the Apostles. If you haven't read Acts, I highly recommend it. It reads like a modern tale, but true. It tells the drama of the beginnings of our Church. 

The weirdness of Christianity is found in today's Gospel. Our Lord tell us the way to find our true life. Strangely, it's not the way we think. To find it, we must actually lose it. 

If you have been keeping up with the news lately, you’re aware of the tragic situation unfolding in Israel as we speak. The suffering is unspeakable, almost unimaginable. The conflict seems poised to spread to other countries in the Middle East. All the while, war continues to rage in Ukraine. China sets its lustrous eyes on Taiwan. While back at home, many struggle to pay the bills. The problems of our daily lives still linger. Humanity seems determined to tear itself apart. Yet in the midst of these raging storms swirling around us like a tornado of tears, can you hear the voice of our Heavenly Father? It’s a tiny, calm whisper. If we’re not careful, we can easily miss it. Do you recognize it? Can you distinguish it from the cacophony of screams and cries of our brokenness? 

“You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.” St. Augustine masterfully wrote in his 4th century autobiography, The Confessions, after an encounter with Jesus Christ. “You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.” This great saint heard the voice! 

Well what does it say? It’s found in the Gospel reading this Sunday. Jesus gives us the parable of the King who desires to throw a wedding feast for his son. He tells his servants to go out and to call the invited guests to the reception. But sadly, they refuse to come. He then tells his servants to broaden the invitation by going out into the streets. The meaning of the story is absolutely clear. The “wedding feast” is none other than Heaven itself. The servants are his prophets and priests, who go out inviting all of humanity to attend. Yet they are distracted by other silly things of the world. They sadly do not recognize the voice.

At this very moment, Jesus is calling us. We must respond to his call. Do not focus on the storms. Rather, stop, pray and listen. God is talking to us. 

As Catholics, we are known as the "People of the Word" as opposed to merely the "People of the Book". As important as Sacred Scripture is, Jesus has given us more. So much more. He gives us himself. Jesus is the Word of God in the flesh (Cf. John 1:1-5). As his followers, we strive to be obedient to Him. 

We've all been tempted to stop praying. Especially when our cries go unanswered, we wonder, "What is the point anyway? God is not listening." To all who want to give up, Jesus speaks directly to us in today's Gospel. 

In today's Gospel, Jesus teaches us the perfect prayer. It reveals the truth of our identity, which we so desperately long. 

We fear many things, don’t we? We worry about our families, our health, politics, the list is endless. Each day can seem to bring us new challenges, to the point it is difficult to breathe. To all with heavy hearts, St. Paul speaks directly to us in our Second Reading this Sunday. Hear it again in all its power: “Have no anxiety at all, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Cf. Philippians 4:6-7). He commands us to have no “anxiety” at all. These words are coming from a man who has experienced tremendous suffering in his life. He was beaten numerous times to the point of nearly dying. He was shipwrecked, homeless, starving, arrested, and rejected by his friends and family. If anything, St. Paul had every reason to feel anxious. Yet, he tells us boldly, “Have no anxiety at all….” 

The “peace of God” of which he speaks is supernatural. It cannot be conjured up from thin air or acquired by simply thinking positive thoughts. Rather, the “peace” at offer to us comes directly from an encounter with the risen Jesus Christ. The entire Christian life is built upon this. The Christian is one who places all hope and trust in the hands of Our Lord. Nothing else. This peace can only come through a deep, daily prayer life. St. Therese of Lisieux, the famous 19th century French Carmelite nun summed up prayer this way: “For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven; it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trail and joy.” She entrusts the core, the heart of her very being, towards heaven. She gives God everything, even her pain. As we begin to pray in this trusting way, our relationship with God is strengthened and solidified like concrete, rebarred with the Holy Spirit. 

The more we pray in this trust, the more we will see our love begin to grow. This must be a daily endeavor of the Christian. I must ask, do you pray every day from the heart? Remember, when I say the word “heart”, I am using a biblical notion of the word. In English, heart can simply mean fuzzy feelings. In Hebrew, “heart” is translated as “leb.” It means the innermost core of the human person. It’s much more intense. From this heart, the Christian prays. St. Teresa of Avila, another spiritual giant, put it this way, “prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us. The important thing is not to think much but to love much and so do that which best stirs you to love.” That is why, starting this weekend, we’re adding another opportunity to grow in love. From this point forward, I want to provide an opportunity to pray together with one of the most potent, and strongest spiritual weapons given to us – the holy rosary. Each Sunday at 9:30am in english and 11:30am in Spanish, we lift up our hearts to the Lord with a Family rosary. After all, our parish is named after the Blessed Mother. I want us to be known as a powerhouse of prayer. 

“The church is filled with hypocrites!” I often hear this accusation from people who do not attend Mass regularly. I simply nod my head in agreement, knowing that I myself, is the biggest hypocrite of them all. The bad witness of Christians is a great mystery when you think about it. We profess that we are following the “narrow way” of Jesus Christ, who is God made manifest in the flesh. Who calls us to love heroically by the laying down of one’s life, in the manner of his own bloody example of the cross of Calvary.  We often fall short of this high heavenly standard. Our non-Christian family and friends intuitively see the disharmony of such a life. They say, “You worship Jesus on Sunday, yet during the other days of the week, your life resembles more like Satan.” 

“You wouldn’t want me in your church, Father, if you knew what I have done.” This is another common rationale that I come across for why they do not go to Mass. This type of person is closer to the Kingdom of God then they realize. The throbbing heart of Christianity is not perfection but humility. We can mistakenly believe that our lives have to be in complete order before we even dare to approach Jesus Christ. This is absolutely false. Jesus Christ wants people who are tired of trying to satisfy the eternal thirst with the saltwater of the earth. 

In the Gospel reading this Sunday, we see this merciful dynamic firsthand: “Jesus said to them, "Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you. When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did.” (Cf. Matthew 21:31-46). Tax collectors and prostitutes were the biggest sinners of their day. Not only that, their sins were laid to bare for all to see. Everyone knew they were sinners. Yet, it is precisely these people who became the first disciples of Our Lord. When you live in darkness for so long, the light of Jesus Christ pierces more sharply. These tax collectors and prostitutes had what the “chief priests” did not – humility.  We are a work in progress. We can easily believe the lie that we have to be perfect before we can even walk into a church. Not here at St. Mary’s. We want sinners, who desire to be saints. 

"I am a Catholic. Had I a thousand lives I would gladly offer them all for him. Never shall I apostatize. You may kill me, if that is what you want. To die for God -- such is my will.” These were the last words uttered by St. Lawrence Ruiz, a Filipino saint we remember today, before he was martyred in Japan in 1637.

"I LOVE YOU" should be the most heard phrase in our families. The second is like it, "I'm sorry."