BROKEN WINDOWS THEORY

[1]The broken windows theory, defined in 1982 by social scientists James Wilson and George Kelling argues, no matter how rich or poor a neighborhood, one broken window would soon lead to many more windows being broken: “One unrepaired broken window is a signal that no one cares, and so breaking more windows costs nothing.” Disorder increases levels of fear among citizens, which leads them to withdraw from the community and decrease participation in informal social control.[2]

There are those who would say Ruth and Naomi were broken widows living in a foreign land. Ruth wasn’t even a member of the Jewish people. She was a Moabite. Yet, she demonstrated great love for her mother-in-law by leaving her own people, her own land, her own customs, and traveling to Israel with Naomi. As widows arriving in Israel, they had no claim to any property or inheritance.

God used their brokenness to blossom forth into the Flower of Jesse, the long-awaited Messiah. Ruth appears along with four other women in the genealogy of Matthew’s infancy narrative as a memorable ancestor of David—considered the greatest of kings—and through his line, Jesus. Although illustrating how the levirate marriage was meant to preserve patriarchy, the Book of Ruth actually illustrates the women’s portrayal as the faithful Israelite in a true and unconditional response to Israel’s God. As a foreigner, Ruth represents the universal scope of God’s providence and salvation.

Each of us has some level of brokenness. We normally don’t readily admit it and we tend to attempt to hide it; often in our family name, our success, even in our addictions. But they can sometimes be our richest asset if used well. Sometimes, it’s only by being broken that new life can spring forth. As the poet Rumi says, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” If Ruth and Naomi hadn’t been widowed, they probably would have remained in Moab. Their brokenness called them forth to newness.[3]

Although the brokenness, of the world and our nation, seem to fit the broken windows theory. Can we trust that God can use our brokenness to bring forth fruitfulness? As the psalmist says, we serve a God who “keeps faith forever, secures justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry, sets captives free, gives sight to the blind, raises those bowed down, love the just, protects strangers, and sustains the fatherless and widows.” (Ps 146:6c-9b) Unlike the broken windows theory, at each Eucharist, we are reminded that Jesus’ Body is broken and given for us. God knows our brokenness and wants us to love like Him. To trust Him in allowing ourselves to be broken for others, and from this new life may spring forth?

---

[1] Scripture (NABRE), Ruth 1:1, 3-6, 14b-16, 22; Matthew 22:34-40

[2] psychologytoday.com. “Broken Windows Theory” posted October 8, 2019.

[3] Weekday HomilyHelps. Homily Suggestion by Sister Anna Marie Covely, OSC.

BE THE FACE OF HOPE

[1]Have you ever cried out in despair: “God, where are you? Help us!” We’re in the midst of the 4th wave of COVID! The parish list of the dead continues to be quite lengthy. Buildings have crumbled in South Florida, floods sweeping the North East, wild fires on the West Coast; and hasn’t Haiti suffered enough? They’re country in turmoil, has experienced yet another devastating earthquake, and, hit by two tropical storms as they try to recover lost loved ones. Then there’s the war-torn countries in the middle East. We’ve all been affected, in one way or another, we’ve all suffered. People have lost, not only loved ones, but jobs and homes. It’s not hard to understand how we may not always see God when we are in the midst of our suffering. To question, where’s the hope?

In Judges, when approached by the angel, Gideon asks, “If the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us?” (Jgs 6:13) Gideon didn’t feel God’s presence in his sufferings under the Midianites and Gideon’s call to oppose them follows an already established pattern: unexpected experience, commission, protest, sign, and reassurance—and then finally acceptance, even if only reluctantly. Gideon’s protest is he doubts he can save Israel, because he is from the poorest, lowliest family. And isn’t this part of God’s pattern also?

Where do you see God? Where do you see hope? In our health-care workers, first responders, those who serve in the armed forces? Maybe it’s the person who calls to check on a neighbor who lost his wife of 60+ years and is now alone, or the person who stayed in contact with a medically vulnerable person who hasn’t felt safe to leave their home? Maybe it’s the priests, deacons, and sisters who continued to preside and serve at Mass, even to empty churches for a time and continued to do visitations to the sick and dying?

What message do we give when we step out of our comfort zones and into someone’s life and help? We give them hope.

In Matthew, the disciple’s express amazement as well as some trepidation at the high cost of discipleship. Jesus stepped into the lives of the disciples and gave them hope. The disciples, in turn, stepped into the lives of all those they met and gave them hope. We all can, in small ways, step into the lives of others and give them hope. At the Eucharist, we agree to receive Christ into our lives as our hope. May the Eucharist nourish us and help us be the face of hope to others.[2]

---

[1] Scripture (NABRE), Judges 6:11-24a; Matthew 19:23-30

[2] Weekday HomilyHelps. Exegesis by Dr. Mary Ann Getty, Homily Suggestion by Sister Vickie Griner, OSC.

A MODEL FOR TODAY

[1]The founder of the Knights of Columbus, Fr. McGivney was a central figure in the growth of Catholicism in America, and he remains a model for today. His example of charity (love of neighbor), evangelization (inviting others to know and love God), and empowerment of the laity continues to bear fruit and guide Knights around the world.

Michael Joseph McGivney was born in Waterbury, Conn. in 1852, the first child of Patrick and Mary, who came to the U.S. in the great 19th century wave of Irish immigrants. Patrick was a molder working in the heat and noxious fumes of a brass mill. Mary gave birth to 13 children, six of whom died young, leaving Michael with four living sisters and two brothers. Life was not easy, especially for Catholic immigrant families who often faced prejudice, social exclusion, and financial and social disadvantages. Young Michael thus experienced, from an early age: grief, bigotry, and poverty. The sorrow is these behaviors remain the experience of many people still today. But Michael’s faith sustained him. At home and in church, he learned and embraced love, faith, fortitude, prayer and putting love of God above any earthly rewards.[2]

The greatest love story ever written, started with creation, Joshua is reminding the people whence they came, not for their own doing but by God’s plan of salvation, by God’s commitment to His covenant, and by God’s love for His children. This love story reaches a crescendo with Jesus, the bridegroom, on the cross, as the ultimate model of self-giving love for His bride, the Church. In Jesus’ response to the Pharisees question on the matter of divorce, Jesus expresses what a commitment to God is to be. Like the marital covenant between a man and woman, joined before God, and community witnesses, we hear, “therefore what God has joined together, man must not separate.” (Mt 19:6) But this can apply to any vocational call. Whether it’s marriage or single; priest, deacon, religious or lay; as a Knight of Columbus. A vocation, lived in the model of Jesus, a self-emptying love for others, especially the outcast, for the glory of God alone, is living and embracing our part of this greatest love story. Jesus tells us, “Whoever can accept this ought to accept it.” (Mt 19:12) “For [God’s] mercy endures forever.” (Ps 136:1)

Faith for Father McGivney and the Knights is not simply knowing the catechism, important as that is, it was about knowing personally embracing the mystery of the greatest love story, spiritually and physically. It was about putting into practice the Great Commandment of Jesus: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mt 22:37-38) True to the parable of the Good Samaritan, love of neighbor does not stop at the church door. It goes out into the streets; to the shelters and soap kitchens; hospitals, and hospices; even to the seats of power, to be a voice for the voiceless, to make invisible the visible. It’s about encountering those on the margins of society, and those who, though successful in the eyes of the world, are poor in spirit, to bring them practical charity and fraternal love that Blessed Fr. McGivney is a model for today.

---

[1] Scripture (NABRE), 2 Corinthians 9:6-10; Matthew 19:3-12

[2] Webpage: https://www.fathermcgivney.org/ Blessed Michael McGivney “A Model for Today” © 2021.

A HUMBLE DEACON

[1]Today’s readings are aptly chosen for the feast of St. Lawrence. While very little is certain about this saint, we know he was one of seven deacons serving Pope Saint Sixtus II, whose optional memorial was three days ago on August 7^th. As a deacon, Lawrence was charged with the responsibility for the material goods of the Church, and the distribution of alms to the poor. He was known for his great generosity to the poor. Lawrence knew he would be arrested like the pope, so he gave all the money he had on hand to the poor, widows, and orphans of Rome, selling even the sacred vessels of the altar to increase the sum. “Whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.” (2 Cor 9:6)

When the prefect in Rome heard of this, he asked Lawrence to produce the riches of the Church. Lawrence asked for three days to consolidate the treasures of the church into one place. In greed the prefect agreed. At the end of the three days when the prefect arrived, Deacon Lawrence presented him with the true treasure of the Church, the poor, the blind, the lame, and the leprous, explaining, “Here is the treasure of the Church!” Enraged, the prefect exclaimed, beheading wasn’t enough for this Christian Deacon. He ordered Deacon Lawrence to be burned alive, in public, on a griddle. Witnesses recorded the public martyrdom, saying the deacon cheerfully offered himself to the Lord Jesus and even joked with his executioners!  

Tradition records massive conversions to the Christian faith as a result of the holy life and death of one Deacon who understood the true heart of his vocation. He was poured out, like his Master, Jesus Christ the Servant, in redemptive love, on behalf of others. It is still said to this day that all of Rome became Christian as a result of the faithful life, and the death, of this one humble deacon.

Today’s Gospel passage quotes Jesus, explaining that people receive life by dying to themselves. “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” (Jn 12:24) The dying/living, giving/receiving paradox reflects the wisdom hidden in the mystery of faith.

In a moment we will shift our hearts to the altar, where the priest, after the consecration and elevation of the Body and Blood of Christ asks the congregation to proclaim the mystery of faith. Our response is NOT about transubstantiation, it’s about death and life, along with Jesus’ coming again. The mystery of faith is that out of death comes life. We recall the entire mystery of salvation through Christ’s death and resurrection. And this is what we recall on this feast of St. Lawrence, the humble deacon remembered for his selfless ministry and generosity to the poor.[2] Who lived Jesus’ call that, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be.” (Jn 12:26)

---

[1] Scripture (NABRE), 2 Corinthians 9:6-10; John 12:24-26

[2] Weekday HomilyHelps. Exegesis by Michael Guinan, OFM and Homily Suggestion by Norman Langenbrunner.

THEN SOMETHING HAPPENS

[1]We all have an idea about what the right thing to do is, and we have confidence in ourselves to pretty much do the right thing. We see ourselves behaving the same way most of the time. The right way. Almost all of us, even criminals, think we live up to a certain code. That ethical view is formed in part by the people around us as we grow up, by our religion, and by a host of little actions by other people we know and trust. We know what is right and what is wrong. We can count on ourselves to behave in the right way. And then something happens.

For Peter it was his challenge to Jesus to prove his identity by asking, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” (Mt 14:28) Then something happens. Peter steps out of the boat, onto the water, he sees the wind and waves, begins to sink, and calls on Jesus to save him. Why does it seem, as we become more familiar with the New Testament, that Jesus is always picking on St. Peter? The simple answer may be, we are St. Peter. That is to say, we are a lot like him. We all need to be nudged now and then, encouraged, and corrected at times. We may believe we are doing the right thing, yet sometimes we may need to be told we just don’t “get it.”

Pope Francis, in his book The Gospel of Matthew, writes: “Peter’s character, with his passion and his weakness, can describe our faith: ever fragile and impoverished, anxious yet victorious. Christian faith walks in the midst of the world’s storms and dangers to meet the risen Lord.” Like Peter in today’s Gospel, we are strong when we keep our eyes on Jesus. But then something happens, we look away, get distracted, or think too much, it’s then we need to hear Jesus say: “Come. Have faith. Do not be afraid.”

Pope Francis sees the boat as an excellent image of the Church. We’re all in this boat together—a boat we are called to invite others into. Maybe the better image is an ark. An ark in which we can feel secure, despite stormy times, in our limitations and weaknesses. Like Peter, we can be all gung-ho Christians and yet have moments when we’re simply faithless and just plain sinful. Beyond this, God sees our heart, as he saw Peter’s, the heart of a leader, a believer, a lover, a person desiring to do what is right in God’s eyes. Like Peter, we are called to be people of great faith—and then to act on that faith[2] even when something happens.

When we look back at our lives, we may recall events that made us recognize who we are and who Jesus really is. Then, when that something happens, we can say with great faith, along with the apostles in the boat, “You are truly the Son of God.” (Mt 14:33)

---

[1] Scripture (NABRE), Numbers 12:1-13; Matthew 14:22-36

[2] Weekday HomilyHelps Homily Suggestion by Linus Mundy.