My thanks to Jim Lies, C.S.C., for his permission to post his homily here. If you are also positively affected by these words, why not send a note to Jim ([email protected]) and thank him.

Basilica of The Sacred Heart
University of Notre Dame
Notre Dame, Indiana

Gospel: A reading from the Gospel according to Mark

(Mk. 1:29-39)

As soon as Jesus and his disciples left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon's mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told Jesus about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them. That evening, at sundown, they brought to Jesus all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him. In the morning, while it was still very dark, Jesus got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, "Everyone is searching for you." He answered, "Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do." And Jesus went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

Homily

In the Congregation of Holy Cross we have an internal publication to which any one of the Community can submit their writings, poems or stories. In an issue a few years ago, a particular story caught my interest and has meant much to me since. It was written by Father Bill Simmons, a Holy Cross priest whose reputation as a fine pastor and preacher I had long known. This is what he said.

"A few weeks ago I was making a long car trip. I pulled over into a rest stop in Missouri and got out of my car to stretch and walk around. I passed by the main structure where the rest rooms were and on the door of the ladies' room I saw a crude sign posted. Scrawled on a piece of paper was this message `Can you help us? We have no money for food or for gas. Our little girl is hungry. We are in the old station wagon over there.' A crude arrow pointed in the direction to look. I glanced over and saw an old station wagon. A mother, father and little girl were sitting at one of the picnic tables near it watching to see what I would do. But I was in a hurry. I had a long way to go. Besides I did not know them. I wasn't even sure I could trust them. The little girl kept staring at me but I continued walking figuring that I would soon get in my car and drive off.

Then another car pulled into the rest area. It was an older car much like the one parked over there. A large woman got out of it and she marched firmly toward the rest room, she stopped at the door of the ladies' room and read the sign. She called out, "Henry, come over and read this sign." Henry came over and read it with her. "Lord, God Almighty," she said, "there's a hungry child here. Henry, go over to our car and get that basket of sandwiches I made for us. Some of them are peanut butter and the child will like those. Bring along that plastic bottle of coke, too. I wish it were milk but it will have to do."

Henry walked over and got the basket and the bottle of coke. The two of them went over to the table and as I stood there I saw the little girl put aside her shyness and in her hunger she devoured the peanut butter sandwich. Henry came back to his car for something else. I stopped him and gave him a twenty dollar bill and told him to give it to them for the gasoline for their car. Then I got into my car and I began to drive away.

As I passed them they waved and cried out, "Thanks for the money." My eyes stung a bit as I realized that I was ashamed of myself. I had been embarrassed into an act of charity. It took that lady's kindness and concern to make me act."

I am struck first of all by the difference between Bill's response to need in this story and the response of Jesus in today's Gospel. But before I do any serious damage to Bill's reputation, I must admit that I more readily identify with Bill and his response than I do with that with Jesus. And yet, what am I doing here, presuming to preach to you about this Gospel without any surety that I can actually live it? And for all of us, what does it mean that we should gather here and call ourselves Christians? I know, for me, it is all too easy to limit for myself just what that does mean, Christian. The danger comes if we only see it as some sort of humanistic demand nurtured by our own needs rather than the recognition of others' needs.

For the three years prior to my coming to Notre Dame this past summer, I lived and studied in Berkeley, California. Everyday in Berkeley and in San Francisco I passed panhandlers on the street, people who were seeking handouts from random passers-by. In identifying with Bill I was struck most particularly by his line "...I did not know them...I wasn't even sure I could trust them." I think right away of my attitude albeit gentle as I passed those folks on the main street of Berkeley on my walks to the subway station. There was in me a sort of doubtful cynicism.

What is it in me that so fears being taken? Whatever it is, Jesus reveals none of it in today's Gospel. The generosity with which Jesus exercises his public ministry is remarkable. For him it is never a question of whether or not they somehow deserve to be healed. There is only healing.

I would give up all hope of ever being a faithful Christian if I expected to live up to the life Jesus portrays in the Gospels. Where I and each of us stand a chance is in relation to the ever so human and ever so often bumbling disciples. They were average ordinary folks, sinners like you and me, and Jesus never left them.

Bill, in the story, is embarrassed by his inactivity and by his having to be prompted and yet he doesn't look much different than the disciples do in today's Gospel. When Jesus goes off early in the morning to pray, they don't go to join him. It would appear that the disciples would well have been content to remain in the village and receive the adulation and thanks of the locals who had already been healed, who had already experienced Christ. When they do find him, all they ask is "Where have you been? Everybody is looking for you." And the unspoken part, "Let's go back and party with them." Jesus calls them on, he prods them to be more.

I suspect that Jesus was no less present and no less a part of Bill's story. Jesus is that generous woman and her husband who drew Bill out of his cynicism and doubt. Like Bill and the disciples, I am constantly prodded myself and pushed to be more than I am by those whom God has graced my life with. I suspect all of us have, when we stop to consider it.

I live in St. Edward's Hall here on campus. In the first few weeks of school a first-year student came to my door. It was early afternoon but it had already been a long day and I knew that I had a lot to do later that night. I knew that I had to be at our Community dinner and then I had two more meetings later in the evening at eight and at ten. I knew it would take me to the wee hours of the morning and that by the end of that day I would be mighty tired. I was feeling a little haggard and a little worn when this man came to my door and maybe a little sorry for myself. So when he asked, "Jim, can I see you tonight?" I said, as if he had to have a good enough reason, "Why?" Then the young man sort of welled up with tears and he said, "Jim, don't ask me why. Ask me when." All I could say was "Yes, of course. When?"

Here was this first-year student in college schooling me, a deacon, in the ways of ministry. I marveled at how heads up it was of him to catch me as he did and to teach me as he did. I'd be embarrassed, even now, if I wasn't so sure that it's going to happen again and that it's likely to happen to you. The two of us spoke later that night for a couple of hours about some adjustment stuff and about how difficult the transition to Notre Dame had been for him. And it turned out that that conversation was the best thing that happened to me that day.

It was the very sort of experience that had moved me to pursue a life of ministry in the first place and I had almost said no to him, because I thought I was too busy. I thought I couldn't fit it in. In the limitations of my own humanness I can presume to stand here and preach to you because Jesus is with me and prods me to do just that, just as he did with his disciples.

We can presume to stand here as a community and call ourselves Christians because Jesus is with us. We can stand up even in our sinfulness and trust that he remains with us, even in our darkest moments. We're not likely to be healers in any physical sense, I suppose. But I do think that we are called to bring Jesus and in that sense, healing, to the world. We are called to prod one another to be more than we would otherwise be. We are called to cast out the demons that darken the stories of so many. Only to the degree that we ground ourselves in God as Jesus did when he went off by himself to pray, can we hope to sustain the life necessary to face the overwhelming burdens and needs of our world.

Jim Lies, C.S.C.
February 9, 1997