Bishop Barron’s Sunday Sermons - Catholic Preaching and Homilies

Moses promised that a prophet like himself would one day arise among the Israelites and that he would have the very authority of God. It is precisely this authority that Jesus claims. And this is why, in his regard, we have to make a choice.

We hear in today's Gospel Jesus' inaugural address. He tells us that the time of fulfillment is now. This means that the whole of Israelite history is summed up in his person. He is the new Temple, the true prophet, the everlasting covenant, and the definitive Torah. And this means that all people must make a decision about him.

The feast of Epiphany gives us the occasion to reflect on a distinction that is much in vogue today between spirituality on the one hand and faith on the other. The Magi represent all that is good and true and beautiful in religious seeking. But they come to the tradition of Israel to find the right focus for their spiritual quest.

The Bible is not particularly sentimental about families. What makes a family holy, as far as the biblical writers are concerned, is its willingness to surrender to the purpose of God. We see this in a number of key figures, including Joseph, Anna, and Simeon.

The church fathers saw so clearly that we will never understand the New Testament without understanding the Old Testament. Our readings for this weekend show how the angel's words to Mary at the annunciation are intelligible only in light of God's promise made, ten centuries before, to David.

In our second reading from Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians, we hear the strange recommendation to pray always, rejoice in every circumstance, and give thanks at all times. How is this possible? Only when our lives have been radically reconfigured around Jesus Christ.

The theme of preparing a highway for the Lord emerges from the time of the exile. When the Babylonian captivity was coming to a close, the prophet Isaiah envisioned God making a highway in the desert to facilitate the return of his people to Jerusalem. From what captivity of ours is God leading us this Advent?

Our first reading for this first Sunday of Advent gives us the master image of God as the potter and we, his creatures, as clay. St. Irenaeus said that God's provident direction of our lives is easy as long as the clay of our hearts remains supple and moist. Trouble comes only when we allow the clay to harden.

We celebrate today the feast of the dedication of St. John Lateran, the Pope's cathedral church as bishop of Rome. This gives us the occasion to speak of the importance of all church buildings, images of the temple in Jerusalem.

Why do we speak of the "soul?" We do so because there is something in us that links us to the eternal. Though the body fades away, the core of the person does not. And therefore, we remain connected to those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith. We should pray for them in the hopes that one day we might live in communion with them.

Pope Benedict has said that the church has three basic jobs: to care for the poor, to evangelize, and to worship. These three are on clear display in our three readings for the weekend.

The Gospel for today raises the famously complex question of the relationship between "religion" and "politics." Though there is a legitimate distinction between the two, this can never turn into a separation. We should certainly render to Caesar what is Caesar's, but we must never forget that even Caesar belongs to God.

One of the most powerful and enduring symbols of God's intention toward the world is the sacred banquet. God wants his life to flow into us and through us to one another. The result of this is life and life to the full. The question posed by the Gospel is this: when the invitation to this banquet comes, do we answer yes or no?

In both the prophet Isaiah and the Gospel of Matthew, we find the image of the vineyard as a symbol of Israel. As Jesus develops this image, we see both the glory and the tragedy of Israel-as well as the promise that the church will emerge as the bearer of the God of Israel to the nations.

Our second reading contains one of the most precious texts in the Christian tradition, Paul's description of the mind of Christ. While the old Adam clung to godliness and hence fell, the new Adam let go of his divinity and hence reversed the momentum of the fall. What does it mean to be conformed to God? It means to embrace the path of self-emptying love. Which Adam do we choose? The Old or the New?

The Biblical manner of dealing with the problem of evil is neither to deny the fact of evil nor the fact of God's existence. Rather, it is to stress the transcendence and inscrutability of God's ways. What looks like pure evil or dumb suffering to us finds its place within the providential plan of a mysterious God.

We will understand the power of this feast only when we grasp how very strange it is to speak of the cross as a triumph. Paul's great hymn in his letter to the Phillipians helps us to grasp how the cross fits into the narrative of God's salvation.

The command to love compels us to engage in the difficult task of fraternal correction, but it enjoins us to do so carefully, always aware that it can slide easily enough into a game of ego-inflation. The Gospel gives us some very practical advice in this regard.

Most of the great religions and philosophies of the world center around the issue of suffering. Stoicism, Buddhism, Platonism all propose different paths to overcome suffering. Jesus proposes to his disciples the distinctively Christian path of embracing suffering in the act of self-sacrificial love.

Jesus tells Peter that he will build his ekklesia on the rock of Peter's confession. The word ekklesia means "called out from." To be a member of the church is to be called personally by Christ out of the world and into a new way of being.

The Church never tires of confessing the divinity of Jesus, for in that confession, the Church finds its whole identity. Over the centuries--and in the present day--many have tried to portray Jesus as no more than an inspired teacher. But the disciples who witnessed Christ walking on the water know better. They confess "truly, you are the Son of God."

We have the special privilege of hearing Jesus himself interpret one of his parables. He tells us the three basic reasons why the Word is not accepted into our hearts: lack of understanding, lack of discipline, and lack of prioritization.

The Gospel for today allows us to overhear a conversation between the Father and the Son. We learn that the Son receives everything from his Father, that he is, in a word, yoked to the Father. When the Lord tells us to take his yoke, he is inviting us to pull with him, receiving through him the life that he receives from the Father.

In his letter to the Romans, Paul tells us that Jesus is the new Adam or the second Adam. He means that Christ sums up the history of Israel and renews the human race.

One of the key themes of the Bible is the divine election, the fact that God chooses. But God chooses, not on the basis of merit, but simply through and because of his grace. And he chooses, not to glorify those whom he elects, but rather to give them a mission of love. Accordingly, he chose Israel so that it might be a priestly nation; and he chose the twelve so that they might proclaim the kingdom, and he chose us the baptized that we might be conduits of his grace to the world.

Paul's letter to the Romans explores the great theme of justification, the process by which we become rectified or straightened out in regard to God. Key to this process, says Paul, is faith, that is to say, trust in the Lord. What has thrown us off-kilter is precisely a tendency to rely on our own powers. But when we, like Abraham our father in faith, learn to trust, then the divine life can flow into us and through us to the world.

What is the foundation of your life? How goes it with your heart? Are you building your spiritual house on sand or on rock? These are the fundamental questions that both the book of Deuteronomy and the Gospel of Matthew pose for us as we return to Ordinary Time.

In 1264, Pope Urban IV asked Thomas Aquinas to compose the office for the newly established feast of Corpus Christi. Thomas's texts are both beautiful and profound. By studying them, we can learn much of the Church's theology of the eucharist. He tells us that Christ serves us, with his own hands, the bread of angels.

There is no question more important than this one: who is God? The doctrine of the Trinity is the Christian answer to that question. The Trinity is simply a doctrinally exact way of stating the belief that God is love. If love is what God is, then in the very being of God there must be lover, beloved, and love.

The feast of Pentecost is the birthday of the church. Our readings show us the four major features of the church: it is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic. What do these four things mean? Listen to the sermon!

Jesus assures his disciples that, if they pray for it, the Holy Spirit will definitely come upon them with great power. At the same time, he reminds them that the presence of the Spirit always awakens opposition and persecution. So ask for the Holy Spirit, but be prepared to suffer on his account.

As Pentecost approaches, the church gives us readings redolent of the Holy Spirit. Our passages for this Sunday speak in various ways of the presence of the Holy Spirit: bold speech, signs and wonders, joy, intellectual curiosity, and love.

All the readings for today are, directly or indirectly, about the priesthood, that office that all of the baptized share. To be a priest is to be a mediator between God and human beings and to be a person who offers right praise. This identity should play itself out in all that you do.

Peter's sermon on Pentecost morning is the model for all evangelical proclamation. He declares that Jesus is both Lord and Messiah, and this straightforward, unambiguous confession leads to conversion on the part of the people. When our preaching about Jesus is wishy-washy, unclear, tentative, we shouldn't be surprised that no one listens.

The story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus teaches us how to see. When we listen to Christ explain the Scriptures to us, we understand the pattern of his life and death. And when we eat his body and drink his blood, we see precisely who he is: God's love made flesh.

Essential to the Easter message is mission: we are sent by the risen Jesus to do his work in the world. It is never enough that we contemplate his risen splendor; we must become his forgiveness-bearing presence to those around us.

For the first Sunday of Lent, the church brings us back to spiritual training camp and encourages us to review the basics. We are in the garden with Adam and Eve and in the desert with Jesus. When the devil approaches us, do we respond as they did, or as he did? Everything else will flow from that decision.

In the beatitudes, the Son of God tells us what every one of us, deep down, wants to know: how to be happy. So we must listen with great attentiveness. At the heart of the program is the beatitude: blessed are the merciful. This is because mercy is a participation in the divine life itself. All of the other beatitudes center around and relate to this one.

Our Gospel passage from the 4th chapter of Matthew's Gospel tells us, in very short compass, what the work of the Messiah was. Jesus proclaims the kingdom, commences the gathering of the tribes of Israel, and takes on God's enemies. We who are grafted on to him must do the same.

John the Baptist's designation of Jesus as Lamb of God is, I submit, largely misunderstood. It has little to do with Jesus' meekness, mildness, or humility and everything to do with his being the victim of a sacrifice. To find out why this is such good news, listen to the sermon!

The feast of the Baptism of the Lord is a celebration of God's great humility. In order to rescue us sinners, God the Son bent low and stood with us in the muck and mud of our dysfuction. This was so that he could draw us up to his glory.

One of the truths that is manifested on Epiphany (that's what the word "epiphania" means) is the compatibility of faith and reason, of religion and science. The Magi were scientists, astronomers interested in tracking and measuring the heavenly bodies. But they also saw in the orderliness of the universe evidence of God. Their search for Christ symbolizes the fact that all of science leads finally to God.

Paul lays out for the Colossians (and us) the virtues that make a family healthy. They include compassion, patience, bearing the burden of the other and, above all, love. To find out precisely what these terms mean, listen to the sermon!

Both Ahaz and Joseph are being summoned out of a narrow perspective and encouraged to dream big, to think of their lives within the context of God's purposes and plans. This makes them prime Advent figures.

John the Baptist sums up the Advent season. He lives in the desert, the place of no distraction, and he speaks a message of repentance and the confession of sin. Advent is a great time to clear away all that separates us from Christ. It is a time of repentance.

Advent is from the latin word adventus, which means coming or arrival. Some arrivals are positive; others are downright threatening. The Gospel for today paints a somewhat dark picture of the coming of the Son of Man, likening it to the flood of Noah. When Christ comes, we have to change, and that's often wrenching.

Along with Moses and Abraham, David is the most important figure in the Old Testament. The first Christians read Jesus in light of these heroes of the Old Testament.

Our readings for today are apocalyptic, which means that they describe the end of an old world and the beginning of a new one. The new world in question is the world of Christ's lordship. To enter into that spiritual space, we have to go through earthquake, famine, and war. But this is, finally good news!

Both our first reading and Gospel for today present the distinctively Biblical view of what happens to us after we die. We do not so much escape from the body as begin to live in a transformed and transfigured body, what Paul calls a "spiritual body."

The story of Zacchaeus in the Gospel of Luke is a kind of spiritual itinerary. If we attend to it carefully, we will learn the essentials of the life of grace.