Homily: Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

This Sunday we find Jesus trying to describe what the Kingdom of God, (aka, God’s love) is like.  No doubt this question continues to be asked 2,000 years later.  I always find it interesting that some people still love to state what God loves and what God doesn’t love – as if they knew!   But the answer Jesus gives resides in a parable – a puzzle.  And that somehow God’s love is like a weed - a mustard bush grown from a tiny seed.  Really?  I thought we want God’s love and vice-a-versa?  But weeds are undesirable, right?  Confused?  So were the disciples.  But actually, it all makes great sense.  See what I mean…

Click here for the readings.

Click here for the homily.

Opening Your Eyes

I think we often miss the face of God in people we see every day.  I know I do.  Even in Princeton.  This past month, without much notice, this town said good-bye to Louie.  Hardly a day would go by that one would not see Louie sitting on a bench, or walking through town, or grabbing part of a liturgy in one of the churches. Louie was a special needs adult who had a heart of gold.  But few walking by gave Louie the time of day.

The following is a short piece written by the very talented pastor of Nassau Presbyterian, Dave Davis.  I think it is worth the read.  And I think your eyes may be opened anew next time you walk through your own town…

"Not too long ago Princeton lost a bit of the fabric of our community. The loss has nothing to do with the dinky, or the hospital move, or consolidation, or the old Merwick site. It was a Sunday a few weeks ago that I received a call from the funeral home asking if one of the ministers at the church could do a funeral on Wednesday at the funeral home for someone who wasn't a member. The funeral director explained that it would be a small service for a man who lived in Princeton his whole life. He was a special needs adult and a familiar person to the streets here in town. His name was Louie, Louie Kiefer.

Louie spent almost every day of his life here in Princeton, with his radio to his ear, sitting on one of his favorite benches, sticking his head in to talk to shop owners, greeting anyone who would speak to him. I met Louie almost 30 years ago now when I was a seminary student working in a men's store across the street. Louie had good days and bad days. Some days his clothes were a bit dirty. He could be a bit scary when saying hi to a child. Louie always asked me when the next church picnic would be, even if it was January. He told me every couple of weeks that he was getting married. As I said at his funeral, students come and go in this town but Louie was always around. Shops come and go in this town, but Louie was always around. Our elected officials come and go, but Louise was always around. Because Louie was part of the fabric of our community and close observers of Princeton would know that something has been missing the last year while Louie was sick.

There were 10 or 12 people at his funeral. Family members, a few friends, another pastor in town, and a few folks who worked at Project Freedom, the group home where Louie lived. 10 or 12 people plus the pall bearers hired for the occasion. Right before the service, I told his sister-in-law Anna Mae about how Louie would tell me he was getting married. She smiled, told me how all the jewelers in town would write down a price for a ring when he would ask, over and over again for years. Then she said, you know he only wanted to be like everyone else. He wanted what everyone else had. 

On Easter Sunday I stood before some 1,800 and proclaimed the hope of God's resurrection power. Just a bit more than a week later on a Wednesday, a few minutes after 11:00 over at the funeral home, I stood there before a small congregation. I stood with an open casket at my back and realized anew the power of the resurrection promise. That now somewhere in the gates of heaven among the great cloud of witnesses, in the communion of saints, in the great gathering around the throne of God's grace, there in the everlasting arms of God, Louie is just like every else. And on that day, on Wednesday, time stood still, and I realized that for 30 years here on the streets of Princeton, among the brightest and best, with all the famous folks that you see on occasion, that for 30 years, Louie helped me to see the face of God."

Homily: Seventh Sunday of Easter

Today’s gospel is a poetic and rich passage from John often called the High Priest Prayer.  It is the final prayer Jesus says before his arrest. This prayer, while directed to God, calls for all of us to spend our lives as disciples of Christ by being in the world and not of the world.

So what does that mean!?

The answer can be found in the actions of a successful Kentucky businessman and a Kmart store closing its doors.

Click here for the readings.

Click here for the homily.

What is your “Feast Day?”



May 17, 1959 - Buffalo NY



Today is my Feast Day! Feast Day you say?  What is one’s Feast Day? 

Indeed all of us (at least those under a certain age) find great fun in celebrating our birthdays.  Best wishes are posted on Facebook by ‘friends.’  Cards arrive in the mail. Families gather around the birthday cake (or in the case of my son, around a block of feta cheese – but I will save that for another blog!)  And all sing the quintessential song, “Happy Birthday.”

But how many of us take the time to celebrate the beginning of our discipleship – the day that we were baptized?  Early on, my wife and I did not want this day to be forgotten by each of our four sons.  So as they grew, each year we celebrated their ‘Feast Day’ – the day they were baptized.  It was a day that they would get to pick out their favorite dinner meal and dessert.  Afterwards we would gather around with pictures and videos of that day.  With their baptismal candle lit, we would retell the story of the day they were baptized.

All this to remind them….and to remind us…of our calling, through baptism, that we are sons and daughters of Christ.  That we are called to be disciples of the risen Lord.  That we are called to “Teach What You Believe.” And most importantly, that we are unconditionally loved by the one who created us. 

What greater thing could there be to celebrate!  So dig in the family records and photo albums, research the actual date that you were baptized and celebrate, with a feast, your calling to be a disciple of Christ!

9/11 Steel and the Cross

The following piece I wrote was published today as a Letter to the Editor in the Princeton Packet....

This past Saturday I, like thousands of others, enjoyed the annual Communiversity.  But this year, unlike those of the past, something caught my eye.  As I walked down Nassau Street I took in the good music, many friends, hot food, cold beer and painted faces.  At the end of the long block I smiled at the kids having their pictures taken on the fire trucks, as they grinned from ear to ear.

And as I turned, there it was.  The piece of steel.  The beam from the Trade Center.  A piece of 9/11.  With kids screaming for joy in the background, I stood silently remembering that day. Remembering the seven residents and 13 alumni who lost their lives.  Remembering the neighbors and friends who I buried.  Lost in my own silence I was interrupted by one of the firemen who asked me if I would help him.  As I turned towards his voice I saw the donation bucket.  But he never asked me for money.

Instead he told me the story of how the town obtained the piece of steel and its journey to Princeton.  But then he went on to explain a growing controversy surrounding the mark left by the welder who worked at ground zero and cleared this piece of steel.  This welder, using his cutting torch, excised a Greek cross in the center of this beam.  He left an equal sided seven inch cross in the nine foot beam. 

The fireman spoke about a growing opposition to display that portion of the beam because of the cross.  I thought he was kidding – but his face said otherwise.  We quickly exchanged our faith beliefs – his Jewish, mine Catholic and just as quickly acknowledged to each other that it made no difference to us, nor to those who died on 9/11.  We all lost a part of ourselves that day.

But again, I thought he had to be fabricating the story he was telling me.  I mean, how could anyone take exception to a piece of steel from 9/11, because it bears a small cross formed by a welder some 11 years ago.  But he showed me the petition and asked me to sign it.  The petition simply states that I saw the steel, saw the cross and that I had no problem with its display.  And so I signed it – with a renewed sense of loss for that day and for this day.

Of the years I have lived in this community I have witnessed debates over the location of the library and the Dinky and of speed bumps and of course, the consolidation.  We, who live in Princeton, seem to be very good at debates.  But are we really going to now have a dispute over a cross cut into a steel beam from 9/11?  Is this the type of community that we just celebrated at Communiversity?  Perhaps it is time to remember that day that changed our families, our town, our lives and our nation. Perhaps it is time to act as a community focused on unity.  Perhaps it is time to allow the steel – to be.