Bishop Barron’s Sunday Sermons - Catholic Preaching and Homilies

The second letter to Timothy is Paul's parting advice to his young colleague and spiritual son. He speaks of being poured out like a libation, of being ready for a great journey, of having fought the good fight and run the successful race. All of these images are illuminating for us as well.

An awful lot of people probably find our first reading for this week offensive. We hear that Israel mowed the Amalekites down with the sword. How can this terrible story of conquest be a revelation of God's intentions? Listen as I offer the surprising interpretation that Origen of Alexandria offers.

The story of Naaman the Syrian is not terribly well-known, but it contains some marvelous spiritual lessons for all of us. It tells us of the importance of patience, humility, perseverance, prayer--and above all following our weakness as it leads us to God.

The prophet Habbakuk expresses what most of us feel at some point in our lives: how can God be so indifferent to suffering? Listen carefully to the answer he receives from the Lord.

Another homily from Fr. Robert Barron and Word on Fire Catholic Ministries.

Another homily from Fr. Robert Barron and Word on Fire Catholic Ministries.

God does not love as we do, in a calculating manner. He makes his sun to shine on the good and the bad alike and his rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike. This means that he is like the Good Shepherd who seeks even the one sheep who is lost and like the father who welcomes back even the prodigal.

Jesus tells us that we must get rid of all of our possessions, including the people that we have turned into possessions. It is in this sense that he encourages us to "hate our mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters." In the measure that these nearest and dearest are possessions of one's ego, they are a block to salvation.

The lust for honor interrupts the great banquet that God wants us to enjoy. This is why Jesus interrupts the interruption in today's Gospel, urging people purposely to take the lowest place and to entertain only those who cannot repay the favor. We must free ourselves of the addiction to honor!

In his new book, Pope Benedict engages in a fascinating dialogue with the American rabbi Jacob Neusner on the identity and meaning of Jesus. In this sermon, I will tease out the implications of this debate, especially in regard to the vocation of Israel.

Authentic faith has nothing to do with credulity or intellectual naivte. It has everything to do with placing one's trust in the God whom we cannot, even in principle, know with clarity. It is the willingness to follow the promptings of God, even when we don't see where they might lead.

Both our first reading and Gospel function as a slap in the face, cold water, a wake-up call. They show how passing, ephemeral, and unreliable are the goods of this world. The idea is to set our hearts, as Paul says, on the higher things, rooting our lives in God.

Our Gospel for this week is of the utmost importance, for we hear the Son of God himself teaching us to pray. In this homily, I walk rather carefully through the major petitions of the Our Father, noting how central this prayer is to Christian life and spirituality.

Paul says in our second reading that he "makes up in his own sufferings what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ." This means that Paul-and all of us-have the enormous privilege of participating in the act by which Christ saved the world, an act of suffering love. How do you interpret your own pain? Might it be a participation in the salvation of Christ?

What the church calls "the natural law" is, as Moses suggests in our first reading, close to us, in fact, written on our hearts. Thomas Aquinas said that this natural, moral law is a reflection of the eternal law of God and is, in turn, the ground for all of our positive laws. When the relationship between God's law, the moral law, and political law is lost, our society suffers.

Our readings for this weekend are completely counter-cultural and counter-intuitive. We put a huge premium on freedom and self-determination in regard to choosing our careers. But this is not the Biblical perspective. Elisha accepts the mantle of prophecy, simply because God commands him, and he leaves everything behind. Jesus tells a man to follow him, even if that means not attending his own father's funeral. In the determination of the meaning of your life, what, or better who, finally matters?

Another homily from Fr. Robert Barron and Word on Fire Catholic Ministries.

Easter is the dawn of a new creation. St. John tells us that Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early on the morning of the first day of the week. This is meant to call to mind the first day of creation, when God said, "Let there be light" and brought order out of chaos. From the meaninglessness of death, God brings eternal life. This is the central and revolutionary message of Easter.

Moses sees a bush that burns but is not consumed. This is a lovely symbolic expression of the way God relates to the world. The closer God gets, the more we become radiant with his presence. God's proximity does not mean our destruction or the compromising of our integrity; rather it is the means by which we become fully ourselves.

Abraham was chosen by God as the founder of a people who would be the means by which God would save the world. His great mark is faith, that is to say, trust. Faith is what Adam and Eve couldn't muster (they grasped at godliness) and from this followed the agony of the world. God commenced a rescue operation by setting Abraham in quest of a promised land.

As we once again commence the penitential season of Lent, it is good to get back to basics. We journey with Jesus into the desert, and with him, we confront the three basic temptations: sensual pleasure, power, and glory. Only when we set aside our obsessions with these three things can we be free to serve the Lord.

The most troubling and challenging of Jesus' teaching is the command to love our enemies. In this homily, I explore four good reasons why it is so important to engage in this most difficult act of love.

The readings for this weekend pose a blunt question: whom, finally, do you trust? "Trust" is meant here in an absolute sense. Where do you base your life? In God or in the things of this world? How you answer that question determines pretty much everything else.

In the thirteenth chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul sings a hymn to love. He tells us that love is "patient, gentle, kind, not snobbish" and that it "never fails." Love, after all, is what God is: willing the good of the other as other. When we love, therefore, we are sharing in the very life of God.

Nehemiah, the 5th century governor of Judea, has an important spiritual lesson for us today. Nehemiah led the project of re-building the walls of Jerusalem after the return from exile. Walls, which set a community apart, are essential for identity and clarity of purpose. If the church is to be a world-transforming agent, it must, first, know clearly who she is and what makes her distinctive.

As we enter into ordinary time, we reflect with St. Paul on the ordinary task of the church: the discernment and exercise of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. How do we use the gifts of wisdom, knowledge, healing, and faith?

There are family values in the Bible, but they might not be the ones you'd expect. The Biblical authors--both Old Testament and New--put a stress, not on sentiment and personal connection, but rather on mission. They see the family as a place where one's vocation from God is prioritized and cultivated. We see this theme on clear display in both the Hannah story and the account of the finding in the Temple.

On the final Sunday of Advent, the Church invites us to consider the inexhaustibly fascinating figure of Mary. The Mother of God is a figure of faithful Israel, the people who for so many centuries waited for the coming of the Messiah. She is, accordingly, the new Eve, the new Moses, the true Isaiah and Ezekiel. In meditating upon her, we come to a deeper appreciation of the Christ she bore.

Our Gospel for today centers around a question that is bracing in its directness and simplicity. A group of people come to the Baptist and ask "what should we do?" The spiritual life is about a set of behaviors and practices, focused, as John the Baptist specifies, around the work of justice.

In our first reading for this week, we hear the prophet Baruch predicting the return of the children of Israel to Zion. God will level the mountains and fill in the valleys so as to make a highway for them. In the Gospel, John the Baptist announces a similar preparation for a similar return, but this time it is the return of Israel from the exile of sin and death, facilitated by the coming of the Messiah.

The readings for this first Sunday of Advent focus, not on the historical coming of Jesus at Bethlehem, but rather at his eschatological coming at the end of time. Knowing that all of history tends toward and culminates in Jesus changes radically the way we live now.

In the confrontation between Pilate and Jesus we see, according to Benedict XVI, a clash of two visions of politics. Pilate, who cynically dismisses any claim to know the truth, allows Jesus' fate to be determined by the will of the majority. But Jesus reminds Pilate that his legitimate political authority comes to him, not from the people, but ""from above,"" that is to say, from certain moral values rooted in God."

For the past several weeks, we have been reading from the extraordinary letter to the Hebrews, the principal theme of which is the priesthood of Jesus Christ. Jesus can be the ultimate bridge-builder between God and us, precisely because in his own person he reconciles divinity and humanity. True God and true man, Christ is true priest.

Our first reading for Mass this week contains the most sacred prayer in the Jewish tradition, the "Sh'ma." In the Gospel, when asked which commandment is the greatest, Jesus, a pious Jew, recites this prayer from the book of Deuteronomy. Listen as I explicate this central and decisive statement of Biblical faith.

James and John want to sit at Jesus' right and left when the Lord comes into his glory. What they don't realize is that his glory is the moment of his crucifixion. To be at his right and his left at his enthronement is, therefore, to be crucified with him, to be willing to give oneself totally away. Be careful what you ask for!

If an angel of the Lord stood before you and invited you to pray for one thing, what would it be? The book of Wisdom suggests today that you should pray, not for power or wealth or beauty or health, but for the wisdom that would enable you to use any and all of those gifts well. Let the first reading for this week be a sort of spiritual exercise for you.

Our readings for this week are all about marriage. In the Catholic understanding, a married couple do not so much receive a sacrament as they become a sacrament. They realize that their marriage is not about them; rather it is a vehicle through which God's purposes are being worked out.

Jesus certainly manages to get our attention in this week's Gospel. Don't literalize his language, but feel its power. Are you willing to eliminate certain things from your life--ways of grasping, ways of walking, ways of seeing--that are compromising your friendship with God? What, precisely, are you willing to sacrifice?

We have been reading for the past several weeks from the letter of James, which is a treasure-trove of practical wisdom. James tells us this week that outer conflicts flow from a war of passions within each individual. How do you find the inner peace that will conduce to outer peace? Listen to the sermon!

Another homily from Fr. Robert Barron and Word on Fire Catholic Ministries.

Whatever we reverence--baseball, good music, golf, the spiritual life--we are surrounded with laws. Law is meant to preserve and enhance the integrity of certain basic goods. But law also carries with it a shadow side, namely, a certain legalism and fussiness. Our readings for this weekend explore these various aspects--positive and negative--of religious law.

The Eucharist has been, from the beginning, a source of conflict and division. This is, of course, not Christ's will, for the eucharist is supposed to be the great unifier. Nevertheless, for the past two thousand years, the radical doctrine of the real presence has compelled some to rebel. Why is this? Take a listen.

Our Gospel for this weekend is the climax of Jesus' Bread of Life Discourse from the sixth chapter of John's Gospel. Given every opportunity to offer a symbolic interpretation of his words concerning his body and blood, Jesus intensifies the realism of his statement: "My flesh is real food; my blood is real drink." All Catholics must wrestle, in season and out, with the implications of this claim.

In our second reading for this weekend, St. Peter tells us that, in sharing the Christian story, he was not trading in "cleverly concocted myths." There is a sharp distinction to be drawn between myth and history, and it matters enormously that Christianity is not a mythic system, but an historical religion. This feast of the Transfiguration gives us the opportunity to reflect on this difference.

We continue our reading of Paul's extraordinary letter to the Ephesians. We hear that the cross of Jesus has broken down the wall of enmity which divided Jews and Gentiles. At the very center of Christianity is the conviction that the death of Jesus on the cross represented God's victory over all the dark forces that divide us. What looked like ultimate defeat was in fact God's triumph over the power of division.

For the next several weeks, we are going to be reading from Paul's magnificent letter to the Ephesians. In our passage for today, we learn that we are situated within the context of a great theodrama, written and directed by God, and designed to lead us to eternal life. The Biblical drama has five acts: creation, the fall, the formation of Israel, Jesus Christ, and the Church. We read the Scriptures in order to discern the contours of that drama and, more importantly, our place within it.

Every baptized person is conformed to Christ: King, Priest, and Prophet. Thus speaking the divine truth (prophecy) is not the concern of priests and bishops alone, but of all members of the church. From Ezekiel and Mark, we can discern a number of qualities of the prophetic office. First, the prophet does not speak his own word, but God's. Second, the prophet is given a difficult assignment. And third, the prophet is summoned, not to success, but faithfulness.

In order to understand the power of our Gospel reading for this week, we must attend to the book of Leviticus. In that great rule-book of Israelite life, we hear that contact with a hemorrhaging woman or with a corpse would result in ritual uncleanliness. When Jesus touches the hemorrhaging woman and the dead daughter of Jairus, he is not made unclean; in fact he makes them clean. In so doing, he redefines what it means to be a member of the true people of Israel.

Psalm 130 begins with the words, "out of the depths, I have cried to you, O Lord." Throughout the great tradition, the prayer ""de profundis,"" (out of the depths) has been one of the most powerful expressions of our reliance upon God. When our lives have bottomed out, when we are lost and at the end of our strength, we turn to God. The cry of the apostles in the boat, as the waves crash over the side and threaten to drown them, is a New Testament example of this prayer. Do you need to pray it today?

For this feast of the Body and Blood of the Lord, I reflect on the Mass as a sacrifice. Sacrificial language runs right through all of our readings for today, just as it runs through the whole of Israelite history. In Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, God's fidelity unto death finally meets a human obedience unto death--and in that meeting, the covenant is fully realized, and salvation is accomplished. The Mass is the re-presenting of that world-changing event.