Homélies de Dom Armand Veilleux

11 septembre 2024 -- mercredi de la 23ème semaine du Temps Ordinaire

1Co 7, 25-31; Luc 6, 20-26

H O M É L I E

          La question du bonheur et du malheur est vieille comme le monde. Dès le début de la Genèse apparaît le malheur, fruit du péché, qui vient priver du bonheur l’homme et la femme créés à l’image de Dieu, et partageant son bonheur éternel. Maudit est le serpent qui les a trompés ; maudit est le sol sur lequel il rampe et qu’ils auront à cultiver pour se procurer leur nourriture ; maudit est Caïn, qui a tué son frère et, finalement, plus tard maudits sont tous ceux qui s’en prennent au peuple que Dieu s’est choisi. (Tout l’Ancien Testament est émaillé de telles « malédictions »).

11 September 2024 -- Wednesday of the 23rd week in Ordinary Time

1 Cor 7, 25-31; Luke 6, 20-26

Homily

The question of happiness and unhappiness is as old as the hills. From the very beginning of Genesis, we read of misfortune, the fruit of sin, which deprives the man and woman created in God's image and sharing his eternal happiness of happiness. Cursed is the serpent who deceived them; cursed is the ground on which it crawls and which they will have to cultivate to obtain their food; cursed is Cain, who killed his brother and, finally, later cursed are all those who attack the people God chose for himself. (The whole of the Old Testament is peppered with such ‘curses’).

Among the prophets, it is Jeremiah who best puts his finger on the source of misfortune and, by the same token, the source of happiness. Jeremiah lived at a time of great suffering for the people of Israel, and his own personal life was deeply affected by it. For him, it was clear: the source of all misfortune is not to put one's trust in the Lord, but to put one's trust in a mortal, a being of the flesh, whoever he may be, to the point of turning away from the Lord. Jeremiah juxtaposes a whole series of eloquent images to describe this wretch who has neglected to put all his trust in God: he is like ‘a bush on a parched land’. He dwells in ‘the arid places of the desert’, or in ‘a salty and uninhabitable land’.

Logically, for Jeremiah, the blessed or happy man (benedictus) is the one who puts his trust in the Lord, from whom he expects everything. He is ‘like a tree planted by the waters’, whose roots never wither, even in years of drought.

Jesus took up this teaching of Jeremiah and the other prophets at the very beginning of his preaching. This message is so important to Luke that, with his customary literary skill, he carefully sets the context, describing the places, the gestures, the listeners and the words. There is a downward movement and a halt; there is the mountain and the plain. There are the twelve and a large number of disciples, not to mention a whole crowd of people from all over Judea, from Jerusalem (the centre of Israel's worship) and from the coast of Tyre and Sidon, in pagan lands. Looking up at his disciples, he said to them: ‘Blessed are you who are poor...’; and, after a long list of blessings, he addressed the rich - who were not identified: ‘Wretched are you who are rich...’.

We see from these words that the disciples, to whom Jesus said ‘Blessed are you’, looking at them, were poor, hungry, weeping, already hated and rejected because of his name. On the other hand, we see that their persecutors were rich and full, and that they were laughing. ‘Wretched are you’, Jesus said to them. Because you have put your trust in these ephemeral realities, you already have your - ephemeral - reward; you will have no other.

This beautiful Gospel of the Beatitudes, which we read several times during the liturgical year, is each time an opportunity for us to ask ourselves in what, or rather in whom, we have placed our trust and our expectations.

Christ came down from the mountain to the plain before saying these words. This symbolic descent is reminiscent of the one described by Saint Paul in his letter to the Philippians and alluded to in the passage we have read from the letter to the Corinthians: ‘He, the Son of God, who was equal with the Father, emptied himself and came down to us, becoming like us and becoming obedient to the point of death on the Cross. That is why the Father made him ‘ rise again ’; he resurrected him, gave him the Name and made him sit at his right hand. Each of the Beatitudes, especially the Lucan version, describes such a movement of descent. Every time we dare to venture into this downward movement, the Father raises us to a new life, a source of happiness: ‘Blessed’ are we then

Unhappy are those who think they can avoid this downward movement by human means. They are unfortunate, because they will never be able to experience the joy of ‘rising again’, of being ‘resurrected’ by the Father. They already have their reward and are content with it.

If Christ has not risen, our faith is in vain. If we are not resurrected, because we have failed to ‘die’ to our false hopes, we are unhappy. True happiness has eluded us. May this never happen to any of us!

7 September 2024 -- Saturday of the 22nd week of Ordinary Time

1 Cor 4:9-15; Lk 6:1-5

Homily

As in so many other cases, it is again today the last sentence of the Gospel reading that gives meaning to the text we have been reading: ‘The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath’. With these words Jesus reveals to us the ultimate meaning of the law -- of all law.

8 September 2024 -- 23rd Sunday “B”

Is 35:4-7a; Jas 2:1-5; Mk 7:31-37

Homily

The Gospels rarely show us Jesus outside the territory of Israel. In the passage immediately preceding the one we have just read, in Mark's Gospel, Jesus went to the region of Tyre, north of the Lake of Galilee. It was a border region, with a mixed population, mostly of pagan religion. It was there that he had healed the daughter of the Syro-Phoenician woman. And at the beginning of today's text, we see him leave Tyre, go through Sidon towards the Lake of Galilee and go straight to pagan territory, to the federation of ten cities called the Decapolis.

What did Jesus do in pagan, i.e. non-Jewish, lands? He didn't preach. He did not try to convert the inhabitants to Judaism. He doesn't even talk to them about the Kingdom, as he does to the Jews. Rather, he brings about the Kingdom. He simply heals them. And this story is an introduction to the story of the second multiplication of the loaves.

This story of healing, which is unique to Mark, is full of details that are heavy with symbolism. The sick man is said to have been deaf and dumb. Now, the Greek adjective (mogilalon) that we translate here as mute, meaning rather someone who speaks with difficulty, does not exist in classical Greek and is only found once, here, in the NT and once in the OT, precisely in the prophecy of Isaiah that we had as our first reading. Mark's text therefore refers explicitly to Isaiah's prophecy: The eyes of the blind will be opened, the deaf will hear and the mouth of those who have difficulty speaking will shout for joy.

Isaiah is the prophet of consolation. The people were still crushed by the pain of the Babylonian exile, and needed a message of encouragement and hope, which Isaiah gave them. Isaiah evokes the memory of the land of Palestine that awaits them after the exile: a fertile and spacious land, with its natural wealth, its springs and torrents, a veritable earthly paradise. It is in this same land that Jesus finds himself in Mark's account.

A deaf-mute was brought to him. In Mark's mind, this could well represent the disciples who, in the previous text (= last Sunday's Gospel), had not understood Jesus‘ teaching (about what comes from the heart of man), and so could not yet convey Jesus’ message correctly. This sick man is brought to Jesus; he does not come of his own accord, and it is not said who brings him. They beg Jesus (they don't simply ‘ask’ him; they ‘beg’ him) - not to heal him, but to lay hands on him, and therefore to transmit his vital force.

Jesus raises his eyes to heaven, in a gesture of prayer to his Father, sighing - which underlines the importance of the moment, and probably expresses his sadness at the slowness of his disciples to understand. After touching the sick man's ears and tongue, he said to him: ‘ Open up ’. The word ‘ effata ’ is an Aramaic word, an imperative in the second person singular. Jesus does not say to the ears and tongue ‘ open up ’ (in a plural form). He says to the sick person, to the person: ‘ open up ’ )in the singular form). When people open themselves to the grace and person of Jesus, they can speak and hear. They are freed from their obstacles.

Let's look again at the context in which Jesus performed this miracle. It was one of the rare occasions when He entered Gentile territory. He did not speak to these non-Jews in the language of the prophets of Israel. He will obviously not try to turn them into Jews. He will evangelise them -- not by bringing them intellectual content, by talking to them about salvation, but simply by bringing salvation into their midst, by bringing salvation to them in the form of healing.

In some countries today, it is not possible to proclaim the Gospel in words, since what is called ‘proselytism’ is forbidden. In Algeria, for example. In these countries, small communities of Christians evangelise simply by living charity among the people. Just as our brothers at Tibhirine did, with such obvious and surprising results.

Even our European societies, which from a material point of view are fertile lands like the Decapolis of Jesus' time, have largely lost touch with the oral expressions of the Christian message. Some of us are undoubtedly called to preach this message in words. But this is not possible everywhere or always. What is always possible, for all of us and at all times, is to live the kingdom, to embody Christian love in gestures of charity and communion like those of Jesus touching the ears of the deaf man with his fingers and touching his tongue with his own saliva.

The Reign of God is in actions before it is in words.

Armand VEILLEUX

9 septembre 2023 -- samedi de la 22ème semaine du TO

Col 1, 21-23 ; Lc 6, 1-5

H O M É L I E

          Comme en beaucoup d'autres cas, c'est encore aujourd'hui la dernière phrase de la lecture de l'Évangile qui donne son sens au texte que nous avons lu: "Le Fils de l'homme est maître du sabbat." Par ces paroles Jésus nous révèle le sens ultime de la loi -- de toute loi.

8 septembre 2024 -- 23ème dimanche "B"

Is 35,4-7;Jc 2,1-5; Mc 7,31-37

H O M É L I E 

          Les Évangiles nous montrent rarement Jésus en dehors du territoire d’Israël. Dans le passage qui précède immédiatement celui que nous venons de lire, dans l’Évangile de Marc, Jésus était allé dans la région de Tyr, au nord du Lac de Galilée. C’était une région limitrophe, avec une population mélangée, de religion surtout païenne. C’est là qu’il avait guéri la fille de la Syro-phénicienne. Et, au début du texte d’aujourd’hui, nous le voyons quitter Tyr, passer par Sidon, en direction du Lac de Galilée et aller directement en terre païenne, dans la fédération de dix villes qu’on appelait la Décapole.

6 septembre 2024 – Vendredi de la 22ème semaine ordinaire, paire

1 Co 4, 1-5 ; Luc 5, 33-39 

H O M É L I E 

          Les Évangiles des dernières semaines nous ont décrit les débuts de l'activité missionnaire de Jésus. Déjà le jeune rabbin et ses disciples commencent à étonner tout le monde. Bien sûr, on a commencé à s'apercevoir que Jésus est venu apporter quelque chose de nouveau. Ses miracles, son enseignement, le pouvoir qu'il affirme avoir de remettre les péchés, tout cela fait grand bruit dans toute la Galilée. Tout le monde cherche à le voir et à l'entendre.