Fr. Gerry Creedon's homily delivered at St. Charles on February 24, 2002, the Second Sunday of Lent
Today's second reading begins with "Dearly beloved" and in
the Gospel we hear the Father proclaim, "This is my beloved
son; listen to him". During Lent we are affirmed and loved.
All the prayers, fasting, almsgiving, giving to the Lenten
appeal, giving to the community center, giving to our
children in Haiti, all abstinence, no meat, lesser meals,
soup for supper, all have to do with transformation,
transfiguration. We are called to be an Easter people,
transformed and transfigured as Jesus was on the mountain.
A little glimpse of Easter is given in the middle of the
season of Lent to remind us that Lent isn't about death or
mortification; it's about life, glory, transformation.
When was Your Moment of Glory?
I'm going to ask you all the question, "When was your
moment of glory? When did you have that four minutes that
Sarah Hughes had at the Olympics?" She just skated better
than she ever had in her life as she said when she got off
the ice. She achieved her peak performance just at the
right time. What a glorious transformation of her life.
When was your moment of glory, when did you shine?
Teenagers Transformed by Love
I was with a group of teenagers from Way last night until
11:30. We were up on a mountain in Maryland, just like
these apostles. Although it was 25 degrees those kids were
transformed, just as surely as these apostles. What
transformed them? Their parents had written them letters.
For a good hour those youngsters absorbed their fathers'
and their mothers' love. Some may be involved in, how shall
we say, risky behaviors and not sure about a lot of things,
perhaps unsure about their standing for all kinds of good
reasons. Some dissolved in tears, uncontrollable tears,
others were so happy that they wanted to dance. I've
observed teenagers a month later carry that parent-letter
tucked in their wallets, or football players carrying it in
their uniforms before they go play football. How important
it is to realize deep down inside of you that in spite of
everything you are loved. Parents, we know love their
children, but somehow or other, all the practical problems
- achievement, behavior, and all the rest of it - get in
the way. When they know and sense that they are loved our
children are transformed.
So think for yourself when was your transformed moment.
When you realized that you were loved, that you were
special, that you were someone. That this is who you really
were? Was it your wedding day? Was it the birth of your
first child? Was it a death, a parent dying, when you saw
them for the first time in their true colors like the fall
leaves that flame with their brilliant colors at the end?
And you wished you'd seen them like that when they were
with you? Think of those moments of transformation.
Priest and Football Captain
I remember after my ordination. But it wasn't the actual
ordination ceremony or my first Mass. It was on my way from
Dublin with my family and approaching my home village at
about ten o'clock at night in the dark. Near my home at the
next village there was a big bonfire at the crossroads to
welcome me. As we crossed that bonfire there was a rope
pulled back and my football jersey, number nine for center
field, was hoisted aloft. They recognized my ordination as
well as captaining a winning football team. And I felt the
glory of it.
"Take Your Collar Off--You're Getting Involved in Politics"
I also remember a defining moment as a young priest. I was
living with an old, crusty monsignor who had a heart of
gold...and protecting it from young associates, or
whatever. Across the street was a house; it was the closest
house to us. The city of Alexandria in their wisdom thought
that it would be a wonderful location for a group home for
mentally retarded adults. The neighbors were up in arms
including some of our leading parishioners. I remember
going to the meeting. I was listening to the arguments
against it: "this is a zone for families and these are
unattached adults - I'm getting a dog to protect my wife
and kids because I'm not sure about these new neighbors".
I stood up, a young priest, and said, "You know something?
I'm living a lot closer to that house than any of you, in a
house right across the street. I am living in a house of
unattached adults who have not attacked anyone in the
neighborhood yet. I think these people have a right to live
across the street from us as much as we have a right to
live in this neighborhood." The motion passed and those
mentally retarded people found a home. They became the best
of neighbors to all the folks who were frightened of them.
People came up to me at church the following Sunday saying,
"Father take your collar off, you're getting involved in
politics." However I had the full backing of the Monsignor.
The process of standing up and being counted on maybe a
small question affected the way I viewed priesthood and
church. It's one thing to talk about the dignity of the
human person and it's something else to stand for it in the
public forum or in your own neighborhood.
Glimpse of Glory
Think of your defining moment, whatever it might be. Where
you had to stand up and be counted or where you knew, maybe
for the first time in your life, that you were dearly
beloved. Because those are the moments of glory, those
glimpses into who you are as a child of God, your real
identity. These peak moments keep you going all through the
struggles of the Lenten season - your prayer, fasting,
almsgiving. The Transfiguration was a transformation also
for those who were are with Jesus. So let us see our own
traces and glimpses of glory.
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