On Challenging Homilies

Over the last week there has been some discussion about the importance and length of homilies, as well as how conservatism and fundamentalism may be outdated prescriptions for bringing back disillusioned, fallen away Catholics. Though I see it a bit differently than some, I welcome the conversation. Looking at my own path back to being in full communion with the Church, it required a combination of two things: 1) good homilies that challenge the congregation, and 2) an embracing of the traditional liturgical norms of the Church.

Challenging Homilies

I was born and raised in Michigan, and am a “cradle Catholic.” While growing up, I went to Mass as required but rarely was able to tune into the homilies. I was in my youth, which explains some of my lack of focus, of course, but even kids tune in when something is interesting. I rarely found homilies to be such and found myself easily distracted, and, eventually, not wanting to go as often.

My lack of interest continued through three Jesuit schools between high school and college. I received little in the way of catechesis at these schools and Mass attendance was not encouraged, as I recall, and my interests lay elsewhere.  Not surprisingly, with no direction, nothing about those institutions drew me closer to Christ.  I liken it to being stuck in a spiritual “holding pattern” wherein I rarely “got anything from Mass,” which resulted in attending it less.

After college, I sporadically attended Mass, but still did not really feel connected. I firmly believed in God, and knew His Son died on the cross for me, but I believed that those facts had little impact on my day-to-day life. When I moved to Phoenix, I started attending Mass at a local parish where my kids eventually attended the accompanying Catholic school. I began attending Mass more regularly, but doing so was still more obligatory, and not moving me in the spiritual direction I needed to go.

So what happened? Several years ago we welcomed a new pastor into the parish. He’d just come back from studying in Rome and was not shy about making some changes. The first noticeable change for me was the homily. Gone were the abstract “love everyone” and “be nice” generalizations. In came a pastor who said, paraphrasing, his job was not to make us like him, or be liked. His job was to shepherd our souls to Heaven. Thus we may like or hate him, but he is not doing his job if he does not tell us the truth. That was a lightning bolt to me; this priest was interesting! I wanted to hear more and began to attend Mass more regularly.

In addition to our new pastor, we were also blessed with a wonderful parochial vicar, who was equally formative and dedicated to saving our souls. He took on politics, challenged our thinking on many current issues, and consistently preached about how we love God best when we stand firm on what He taught us. And as if that were not enough, we had an additional priest as well who is also very gifted in delivering outstanding, philosophical homilies that often left many of us in deep reflection.

It is important to note in any discussion of homilies that their practice dates back to the early Church leaders who used them to explain the Scripture readings. We are told that though it is hard to know exactly when delivering homilies began, as there is little written evidence, we do know that the oldest known homily is 2 Clement, which dates back to the 2nd century.

Homilies have had a long standing tradition in the Church, and have been a way both to explain the Scriptures as well as a means for priests to address spiritual issues they believe germane to their congregations. Saint John Chrysostom was famous for his homilies in the 4th century. Homilies have been and remain an integral part of the Mass, even if not actually required at each Mass.

Embracing the Church’s Liturgical Norms

In our parish, in addition to substantive homilies, Father made other changes as well such as bringing more reverence back to the parish. It was Christ’s Church after all, not a community meeting hall. When you walked into the Church, reverence required quiet, or at least whispering. Soon gone was the “band” that played contemporary music, and replacing it was much more traditional music sung by a wonderful, talented choir. Also gone was what Father called the “last chance Mass,” which was the Sunday evening Mass, where too many people showed up in casual dress – often shorts and flip-flops in Phoenix – at the conclusion of their various weekend festivities. Candlelit Masses were brought back, as was more Latin.

Not all of our pastor’s reforms were well-received. Over time some families left for other parishes. New people came, however, and came far. I know people who drove 45 minutes and passed several closer churches to attend Mass at our parish. I myself drove past closer parishes. The word was getting out that our parish was bucking the lackadaisical approach to our faith that plagued far too many parishes. Our congregation became more orthodox. Mass became more spiritual, and more meaningful.

Over the course of several years, I and those who were not afraid to feel uneasy from time to time – those who were willing to confront their own potential failings – heard wonderful homilies about abortion, contraception, gay “marriage” and our need to come to Mass. We heard homilies of how to love one another better, certainly, but those had some weight to them and left us with something to seriously ponder. We also heard homilies about forgiveness and repentance. To be sure, the homilies were occasionally painful to hear, mostly because they contained messages that 1) too few had heard from the ambo, 2) few wanted to hear, and yet 3) many needed to hear.

A dose of tough love was precisely the medicine I needed to cure my near apathy toward the Mass, and my indifference toward what it really meant to be Catholic. The many years of hearing “it is okay, we all fail;”  “Jesus loves us anyway;” and “love your neighbor,” left me empty. The messages were all true and important, but just too tepid. It was instead the messages that “you can do better,” “God wants you to better use His precious gifts to you,” and that “your salvation is not something you can simply take for granted,” were critical for me to hear. I needed to understand I could be wrong, and that some of my choices and actions were indeed sinful. I needed to be set straight, even at the risk of occasionally leaving Mass ashamed and sullen. It was not the priest or the homily that made me feel that way, rather it was the reflecting upon my own choices. The truth sometimes hurts, and too many of us have forgotten that it is often the best medicine. We should not blame priests for delivering it.

The homilies of those three priests in particular, most often lasting longer than ten minutes, as well as the reverence they exhibited at Mass, ultimately brought me back to Mass week after week, and as of roughly two years ago, day after day. It is ultimately what led me to be a much more devout Catholic, and a far better dad. I still have my failings, certainly, but I am drawn to the lessons and examples of two millennia of preceding Catholics. That people before me, even saints who often were miserable people before their conversions, could change for the better and live holier lives means a great deal to me. They are inspiring mentors, and their many writings, often in the form of homilies, are part of our unmatched Deposit of Faith.

I know many others who have become more attracted to the Catholic Church based on tradition, and who were attracted to its fundamental and unchangeable principles. Many left ecclesial communities where doctrine was voted upon democratically. I also know many who have taken verbal scars from homilies and applied the lessons to their lives, to the benefit of themselves, and often more importantly, their families. They did not accept the misguided platitude that they were “born that way,” and thus must accept their sinfulness. Instead they want to be saints, and strive to be. We need more like them.

To those who say the Mass is not about getting something out of it, well, they are absolutely right. It is about worshiping our Lord in accordance with how He has revealed Himself. Having said that, we must remember that we are all on different journeys, and various things will bring us home. I am content with a daily Mass where I receive Jesus and there is no homily, but it took me a while to get to this point. Many may indeed still need, as I certainly did, the gentle but firm correction of a compassionate priest concerned not with making us feel peppy about ourselves after each encounter, but instead focused long-term on our salvation.

There may be a need for differing approaches based on demographics and culture, but whatever the approach, I know we cannot simply be lukewarm, as warned about in Revelation 3:16. We must speak the truth with compassion, not dilute it, even if it hurts, and perhaps especially if it hurts. I can attest from personal experience that we cannot across the board limit homilies and dilute traditions and fundamental doctrines and expect to bring many people home to the one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church that Jesus founded. The Catholic Church offers something special and wholly unique that will forever attract those seeking to be closest to Christ. As a priest friend noted, “we can’t outdo the Protestants at being Protestant.” We should not try.