Most Rev. Joseph C. Bambera, D.D., J.C.L.
Bishop of Scranton
HOMILY FOR CLOSING OF ST. ANN’S NOVENA
St. Ann’s Basilica, Scranton – July 26, 2011
I am so grateful to Father Jim Price and the Passionist community and to the friends and supporters of Saint Ann’s Monastery for welcoming us to this incredible time of prayer and worship in honor of Saint Ann. I am especially grateful to Bishop Neil Tiedemann and Father Cedric Pisegna for preaching this year’s novena. You have touched this community deeply and on their behalf I thank you.
Every year on the feast of Saints Ann and Joachim, I think of my mom’s mother – my grandmother. She died thirty-nine years ago this very day. When I reflect upon her life as it intersected with mine, countless numbers of experiences come to mind from the life of this simple immigrant who raised ten children in the midst of the depression.
I think of holidays that she helped to make special with all sorts of traditions. I recall during this time of the year the incredible garden that she planted and that we would help to weed. It was work, but we never thought of it as such since we cared for it together. And I especially remember family gatherings when we would be sitting around her kitchen table and someone would be asked by my grandmother to get the large, tattered coat box that was on a shelf in a bedroom closet. It contained the story of our family in countless numbers of new and mostly old family photos. I suspect that most of you have such boxes.
It was always a treat to look at pictures of my mom and my aunts and uncles when they were young children. We’d always stare in amazement at the photos of my grandmother, when she was a young woman with dark, long hair instead of the white hair that we had known. When a particular photo of my grandfather was discovered, someone would invariably say, “He looks so frail. He died just a few weeks later.” And then of course, one of my younger cousins would always ask, “Who’s the guy in this picture?” And someone would say, “That’s our cousin Tony from Philadelphia. Boy, was he a character! You never know what was going to happen when he was around.”
Sound familiar? There are different pictures in your homes but similar stories, aren’t there? Yet, for every photo that allows us to peer back in time and to look at a moment in the life of our family, we don’t discover the entire story. We need to look into such photos a bit more deeply for so much of life can be missed by simply looking at the surface. When we look carefully, we see struggles, disappointments, set-backs, mistakes, laughter, love, anger, forgiveness, grief – things that we may not always want to acknowledge or admit about our families or our own lives, for that matter. And when we confront such realities, do they imply that somehow our families and the individuals who are a part of them have missed the mark? No, not at all. They mean that our families are like every other human family – in need of love, healing, and hope – in need of a power bigger than themselves – the power that we call God. Indeed, such realities mean that our families are just like the family and the individuals that we focus upon this evening.
We know very little about Saint Ann and her husband, Saint Joachim. They’re not mentioned in the bible. There are stories that have come down to us through the ages, but we can’t be sure how accurate these stories really are. Yet, even though we don’t know many details about the life of this faithful Jewish couple, we can assume a few things. We can assume from the character of their era, and the holiness of their daughter Mary, that they were simple people of great hope. We can assume that they surely must have longed for the coming of the Messiah, and the reconciliation, peace and unity that God alone could give. We can assume that their faith in God was the guiding force of their lives.
The silence of Ann’s and Joachim’s life’s stories, their faith in the midst of a difficult life likely filled with pain and struggle, the brokenness of their imperfect lives – like ours – and the reality of a daughter chosen by God to be the Mother of the Messiah all speak to the plan and power of God. In Ann and Joachim, God chose to use two very unlikely individuals to bring about his plan for creation.
And in me and each of you, God continues to work. God continues to use unlikely, imperfect individuals to accomplish his purpose in our world – to give hope – and to proclaim a message of life, salvation and peace. Like he did with Ann and Joachim, God looks into my family and yours and calls us to holiness – calls us to be his saints – his presence in the midst of a world that has not always reflected his will and his way.
Take a look around you. Look at the faces that you see – not just the familiar faces of family members and friends, but faces wounded by pain and grief – faces that are longing to be healed – faces that are grateful for God’s abiding presence in their lives. This gathering is so powerful and hopeful, isn’t it? First of all, it reminds us that we are loved – that God hasn’t given up on any of us – but still calls us, as we are, to himself. It also reminds us that when given the invitation to respond to God’s call, we’ve been blessed with the wisdom and faith to say, “Here I am, Lord.” And here we are – all sorts of people – young and old, rich and poor – confounding the wisdom of the world and proclaiming to the same world that the foundation of our lives is not rooted in power and position, wealth and riches, fame and fortune – but in a relationship – a relationship with Jesus Christ.
Earlier this year in a general audience, Pope Benedict spoke of the effects of this relationship. He noted that “often we are led to believe that sainthood – holiness – is reserved to a few chosen ones.” He continued, “Saintliness, the fullness of Christian life, does not consist in the achievement of extraordinary feats, but in uniting oneself with Christ … in making his disposition … his behavior … our own. The Second Vatican Council, in the Constitution of the Church, speaks clearly of the universal call to sainthood, affirming that no one is excluded.”
The inspired teaching of the Church – the example of the lives of countless numbers of believers – the witness of Saints Ann and Joachim – and our presence here this evening – all serve to remind us that God accomplishes his great work in the small, quiet and ordinary moments of life – in the simplest and least likely of individuals who open their lives to his. That’s true – whether you are a teenager who struggles to balance school and work – or a parent who seeks to confront the uphill battle of instilling Christian values in the lives of your children – or a recovering alcoholic who thinks that you can never be forgiven for the hurt that you have caused to those you love – or a bishop who still can’t understand why God chose him to lead a local Church.
I hope we can find some consolation in God’s plan. I hope as our lives unfold, we can begin to see more and more clearly that while we hold the treasure of faith, as Saint Paul reminds us, in “earthen vessels” – the fragile and broken reality of our lives – our greatness comes from the power and presence of God within us.
My friends, a few weeks ago in a pastoral letter to the Diocese of Scranton, I shared with you my vision for our local Church. I entitled the letter: Wounded and Loved, Regathering the Scattered. When I first shared the idea of including the notion of a wounded people in the letter’s title, some wondered if it might not convey too pessimistic of a tone. Yet, if we’re honest, the Church is a gathering of the wounded. It always has been, and it always will be. We simply cannot embrace the hope of Easter without first experiencing Good Friday and the wounds and brokenness of our world. Indeed, to embrace our brokenness and wounds is to reveal an honesty that leads to reconciliation and hope. Isn’t that why we’re here today? To embrace our brokenness and wounds is to take the first step to healing, wholeness, life and authentic faith. It is to acknowledge our need for a savior and to open our lives to God’s pure, unbounded love. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but have eternal life.”
And once embraced by God’s love, how can we who are given such hope, do anything but follow Jesus’ example of selfless love and service. Indeed, it is not by mere conviction that we will be assured of a relationship with God but by the action of our lives poured forth in the same pattern of Jesus’ life.
Interesting, isn’t it? We gather this evening with all sorts of hopes and needs; prayers and petitions. “Help me Lord. I can’t go on.” “Forgive me Lord. I’m too far gone to be of any use to you.” “Lord, I’m old and frail. There’s nothing more that I can offer.” … And yet, our reflections on faith always come back to God’s plan for his creation. Our reflections always come back to the challenge from God to live as Jesus lived – to love as Jesus loved – and to serve as Jesus served. “I’m looking for your help, Lord. And you’re telling me that you need mine.” … And we hear the words that Jesus spoken to his closest friends the night before died, “As I have done, so you must do.”
Listen again to Jesus in the gospel this evening, “Blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear.”
Saints Ann and Joachim saw the hand of God at work in their lives. They heard God’s voice yet wondered how God could possibly use them. They stepped forth in faith, not knowing where the journey led, not knowing what God might want from them … and their daughter Mary gave birth to Jesus, the author of life and salvation.
Like Joachim and Ann, may we recognize the presence of God in our midst and may we embrace the mystery of our faith in Jesus – believing that it is in serving one another – in giving – that we receive, and it is in dying – to ourselves for the sake of others – that we are born to life and peace.
