Church of the Sacred Heart 203 Church Road – Oxford, Pennsylvania March 21– 5th Sunday of Lent, 20212 Fr. Eschbach’s Homily – I Want to See Jesus

My Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ, Back in 1990 I was charged with soliciting major donations in Center City for the Archdiocesan fund-raising drive called Catholic Life 2000. Some of you may remember it. I wasn’t having a lot of success until I solicited Tug McGraw, whom some of you may remember as the great relief , first for the Mets, whom he helped win their division in 1973, and the Phillies win the in 1980. It was Tug who made famous the phrase, “Ya Gotta Believe!” Tug almost passed out when I asked him for a contribution of $100,000.00 given over 5 years. I asked him what contribution he would be comfortable with and he hesitantly said, “Maybe $25,000”. I said, “That’s great! You’re comfortable with that? It wouldn’t be too difficult for you?” He said, “Yeah, I can do that.” I said “Great! Now let’s talk about sacrifice. How about $50,000.00 over five years?” Reluctantly, he agreed. Then I told him, “Well, I really appreciate that. But, now you owe me the $50,000.00 you’re not giving me. So, you have to help me raise the goal I’ve been given of raising $1,000,000.00.” Tug laughed and agreed. When I called others I was sent to solicit, I was able to ask if I could come by to visit with Tug McGraw. All of a sudden my calls were taken. Tug and I were invited to visit with all kinds of professional people and indeed were able to exceed our goal of $1,000,000.00. Along the way, Tug and I became close friends. And I was honored to preside at his funeral in 1994. Such is the value of celebrity. We all have heros; people we admire; leaders we look up to who we would love to meet or even share a meal with. At the recent 75th Anniversary of the Grand Ole Oprey, a man approached Dolly Parton and asked her to autograph a CD for him. As Dolly signed the CD, the young fella blurted out, “I’ve loved you for over 20 years.” In her irrepressible way Dolly grabbed his hand and sweetly said, “Oh honey, don’t stop now!” Our Gospel text today suggests that Jesus had apparently attained a certain level of celebrity. St. John tells us that “some Greeks who had come to worship at the Passover Feast came to Philip…and asked him, “Sir, we would like to see Jesus”. When Jesus was told of this, his response was somewhat puzzling. It begins with, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified…and ends with “And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself.” As I reflected on this response, it suggests to me what the Lord was actually saying to Phillip and Andrew, “So, you’re impressed that these Greeks want to see me. Just wait! You ain’t seen nothing yet!” The Greeks who came looking for Jesus would have certainly admired great philosophers like Plato or Aristotle? But Jesus was just a humble, itinerant rabbi. He was no philosopher. What did they hope to find?

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What was it about Jesus? We have nothing that he wrote, and not much of what he said. He didn’t speak in complex sentences or high-sounding ideas. He spoke mostly in parables and used the language and the symbols of common listeners like farmers, herders, and fishermen. So, why is it then that, 2,000 years later, people still hang on his every word? Why is it that hundreds of thousands of brilliant women and men have studied every syllable that was recorded of his teachings, and whole libraries of books have been written about him? What is it about this man who has had more influence on the course of human history than any other? It was not just what he said. It was who he was—and is. There was something about the very person of Jesus himself that has fascinated people of every generation over the twenty centuries since he first caused such a commotion in that little backwater region called Galilee. That’s why the words spoken by some un-named Greeks to Philip are so important to us today: Sir, we would like to see Jesus.” Isn’t this the most sincere desire of our hearts? We want to see Jesus. We want to experience him for ourselves. A second-hand report is not enough. We long to be in his presence. We want to assure ourselves that he is real; that he is relevant; that he is risen. We can understand why Thomas wanted to put his hand into his hands and feet and side. We want to know that Jesus is here for us.

We want to see Jesus. That’s really why we have come to worship today. We haven’t come to learn the latest political philosophy or celebrate some theological truth. The hymns are uplifting; the atmosphere is pleasant; the congregation is cordial and friendly; the prayers are reassuring, but it means little, if we cannot see Jesus. We want to see Jesus because all of us know there is something missing in our lives. All of the high hopes and great dreams for our lives seem empty without the presence of Christ in them. Without Christ, the daily tedium, the lack of vitality, the boring sameness of life becomes drudgery. We all know that something is missing in our lives. And there is nothing we can buy, no earthly substitute that can fill that sense of longing. “We would like to see Jesus”. What we need is a new heart. Not a donated or man-made heart, but the heart that Jeremiah spoke of, “I will place my law within them and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer will they have need to teach their friends and relatives how to know the Lord. All, from least to greatest, shall know me, says the Lord, for I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sins no more.” Whenever I think of the desire to see Jesus, I am reminded of my encounter with a man that I came to know as Mr. Charlie. I’ve told this story many times, forgive me if you heard it before, but it always lives in me. Many years ago, we had turned the first floor of the Rectory at Most Precious Blood Parish in North Philly where I served as pastor into a soup kitchen for homeless and poverty-stricken people. One of the people who came regularly was Mr. Charlie. Everyone knew when he arrived because he smelled like a dumpster or a toilet that was never flushed. I had to hurry and intercept him before I had a riot on my hands. I would take him into the bathroom where we had a big, old claw-foot tub, tell him to put his filthy clothes in a big plastic bag, and get in the tub, which I had laced with Clorox. After bathing him and getting him dressed in clean clothes, we would feed him and he would go happily on his way. One day, it was Good Friday, and the soup kitchen was closed. The staff and volunteers were off for the holy day and I was there alone. Mr. Charlie came banging on the door. I answered the door and explained that we were closed, but he insisted, “I’m hungry!” We went through this a number of times and I knew he wasn’t going to Page 2 of 3

leave. I searched the kitchen and found only a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jelly, and a quart of milk. I made him a sandwich, poured him some milk, and realized I was hungry too. So I sat down with Mr. Charlie and we ate our sandwiches and drank our milk. When we finished, I explained to Charlie that I had to get ready for Church services. Mr. Charlie was just a little guy. He was bearded and filthy and still smelling, but he came over to me, reached up and pulled my face down to his and kissed me right on the lips and said, “Thank you for loving me. Whenever I come here you always love me.” And with that, Mr. Charlie left. I stood there stunned and I knew, I really knew, and I still believe to this day, that I had seen Jesus. I never saw Mr. Charlie again. But from that day to this, my eyes have been opened, my ears are attuned, and my heart is alive to his presence in my life. I see Jesus often in my life now. When I consecrate the bread and wine at Mass, I know that it is Jesus before me. When I look into the eyes or hear the contrition in the voice of penitents in confession, I feel his presence as he touches their souls with his already-forgiving love. As I place the Sacred Host in your hands, and look into your eyes, I see Christ within you. You see all that’s needed to see Jesus is a heart that’s open to him. Still, there is the longing in all of us; the longing to see him face-to-face. That longing is so beautifully expressed in a magnificent song by the contemporary Gospel group, MERCY ME: I can only imagine what it will be like when I walk by your side. I can only imagine what my eyes would see when your face is before me. I can only imagine. I can only imagine. Surrounded by your glory what will my heart feel. Will I dance for you, Jesus, or in awe of you, be still. Will I stand in your presence; to my knees will I fall. Will I sing hallelujah; will I be able to speak at all. I can only imagine. I can only imagine. When that day comes and I find myself standing in the Sun. I can only imagine when all I will do is forever, forever worship you. I can only imagine. I can only imagine.

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