Sunday, March 03, 2024

Not rules but relationship (Sunday homily)

 The first reading is about God’s Law: 

God’s Ten Commandments, God’s “Rules.” 


Rules are necessary, like it or not.

And while we all love to complain about rules, 

the truth is, we actually LOVE rules. 

Why do I say that? Because people will ask me a question,

and I’ll try to explain the Church’s teaching, 

and you know what people come back with?

“Just give me the rule, Father!”


As I said, rules are useful.

To quote the late Father Michael Seger, 

who taught moral theology at the seminary in my time:

“Rules exist to protect values”:

“Thou shalt not kill” protects the value and dignity of human life.


All that said, life is always more than rules!

God came to earth, becoming one of us, 

to invite each of us into a relationship with him.

To know him – not only as Creator, and as Savior, which he is –

But just as much as a brother and a friend.


So now, let me pose a question,

And I hope you’ll work it over in your mind:


Is your Catholic Faith mainly about following rules?

Getting to Mass on time; keeping the communion fast;

no meat on Fridays during Lent;

not going too far on a date, and so forth;

and if you break a rule, then get to confession before communion.


Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking down rules, I’m saying, go further!


If your faith is mainly about rules? You’re missing it!

Our Faith is mainly, crucially, about a relationship!


God is a Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

So God is – within Himself, in a way we can’t quite explain – 

a relationship.


Life is a relationship. 

A relationship enabled you to exist.

You never have been an island all to yourself, and you never will be.


Maybe the reason God created the world this way 

was so that his invitation to a relationship with him 

would be amplified and re-echoed in everything we experience; 

to give us every advantage, to have courage to believe, first, 

that a relationship with God is possible…


And then to find it easier to follow the path he gives us 

to that relationship – so we would be successful.


We like rules because they are simpler.

Relationships are much harder.

Lots of people are married – happily, it would seem –

yet they don’t talk very much; 

they don’t spend much time alone as a couple. 


Lots of our children need to talk to their parents: 

so many of our girls are lied to about their value;

so many of both boys and girls are looking at stuff on their phones 

they know is poison, but they don’t know how to stop.


Kids: no one in the world loves you as much as your mom and dad.

Talk to them!

Parents, you know they are scared: so you take the first step.


Relationships take work but they are worth it.

True for friends and family, most true with the God who made you,

and who died on the Cross to save you,

to have a relationship with you forever.

Those money-changers Jesus confronted that day?

They must have been so confused, because, after all:

They were following all the rules!


Don’t just follow the rules: know God!

Talk to him, discover him; make friends!


Tuesday, February 27, 2024

We Catholics should stop calling priests 'father.' Here's why.

 ...Because we don't really believe it. 

Do bishops believe priests are fathers? 

Then why do they move priests around, as if they are branch managers? Priests are encouraged not to get attached to any particular parish; to expect to move on after a set term. Their brother priests encourage this and take it as normal.

Do priests believe it? Some of us do, but as I explain in this post, I starting to think I'm in the minority, perhaps a small minority. 

Do the faithful believe their pastors are fathers? 

Sad to say, but I think far fewer really believe it than we realize. We expect a father to take care of the needs of the family, to lead, to protect and to provide. We love when dad tells us what we like to hear, but what happens if he says something we don't like? Everyone knows what happens.

When father says, to take care of our family, things need to change? He will be given a hard time. He will be treated as the enemy.

Let's talk about the elephant in the room: the current project of reorganization and renewed evangelization, Beacons of Light. 

For all the flaws in the planning and execution, it is founded on a completely sound theological understanding: that the pastor is a father, who has a spousal relationship to his community, which is commonly called a "parish." What few realize is that the terms in Latin for parish priest and parish are cognates (which I explain here), meaning that an essential part of the definition of a parish is it's relationship to a priest; a parish priest is a unifying feature of a parish.

Therefore, the arrangement of a single priest being pastor twice, three times, four times or more -- meaning, he is "father" to multiple families -- is not normal, and should not be tolerated except as a temporary expedient. For decades, this abnormal arrangement was the solution for not enough priests who were equipped to be pastors. And now, as the situation became increasingly unworkable, the Archdiocese stopped addressing the problems in a piecemeal way, and did a comprehensive re-working: Beacons of Light. 

Based on projections of what number of parishioners and pastor-capable priests would be available for the next couple of decades, our parishes were re-grouped into 57 "families," with the plan that, after several years' transition, each of the multi-parish families would be reformed legally into united entities under church law, while maintaining multiple churches and campuses, if this is feasible. Why 57, and not 52 or 63? As mentioned, it's based on projections of both lay participation and priestly resources, not just for the next 5 years, but much further out.

So now the fight is on in many places, and what people are keying in on is the change in the legal structures. But back to my earlier point: this change reflects the sound insight that a "parish" is the pastor -- the father's -- family. One father implies a oneness of the family.

What would happen with a natural family in this situation? Supposing a man, with his own family, became aware his nieces and nephews lost their parents; it fell to him and his wife to provide for them. How would the family arrangements change? 

Would anyone consider it acceptable to say that the arrangements of the initial family should continue undisturbed, while the cousins would continue living in their home, with dad shuttling back and forth? Would it not be the case that only rare circumstances would justify that?

It may seem strange to American readers to consider such a hypothetical, but in much of history, and much of the world today, it is all too real to have children lose their natural parents, and either relatives take them in, or...what? And what is formed is a new family; maybe people call it a "blended" family, but how many families are there? 

One.

Now, let's look at Beacons of Light. It takes for granted this principle: that a parish community is centered around a priestly father. 

In theory, this unity might carry over into the unity of the physical home; but given the practical issues involved, this point is not really being pressed. Yes, I know many people are certain that's the hidden agenda, and if you believe that, no denial of mine can be strong enough to convince you. 

All I can do is repeat what I've said: only an extremely stupid archbishop and parish priest would force the closure of beloved church buildings over the objection of the people who are ready to use them and pay for them. Even those who suspect me of being lazy and selfish like priests supposedly are, do not accuse me of being extraordinarily stupid (only run-of-the-mill stupid).

The oneness of the family may need to deal with certain practical realities, but the principle of oneness should prevail, yes? So with the natural family, and so with the spiritual. Hence, if sad to say, spiritual families that used to have their own father must now "share" a father with another family, then isn't it obvious and necessary that they operate as one, enlarged family, rather than try to function as two (three, four, seven) families, and the father must make a pretense of being two, three, four, or seven fathers?

In many cases, the objections to the Beacons project center on trying to keep what has been lost: people want their parishes to be stand-alone, with their own pastor. That would be wonderful, but given the demographics of our priests for the foreseeable future, and the particular demands of being a pastor, that isn't possible.

The back-up plan being advanced is to say, well let's keep each parish stand-alone, but the priest can shuttle from location to location, being the pastor in each of the sites. Some people think that's a new idea, but it isn't; it's what was tried in many places, in our archdiocese, for the past 30 years. It seems to work because we priests didn't tell you otherwise. We didn't tell you because we figured it wouldn't change anyway, so what was the point?

Where it seemed to work, what happened either was the priest simply didn't do a lot of things a pastor really ought to, like long-term planning, because he was shuttling, shuttling, shuttling. Or, the priest simply abdicated his responsibility as a leader to others. Truly being, not *a* father, but two fathers, three fathers, five fathers? That is simply impossible; what seems like success is a masquerade, only now the masks are coming off.

But I've been told my insistence on the fatherhood of the pastor -- including a spousal relationship -- is all wrong, even by the most faithful Catholics. And I can't help noticing that much of the resistance in the northern part of the diocese is centering not on maintaining the priestly relationship, but the legal structures. As I explained in a February 5 post, the conclusion of one of the very fine, very faithful Catholic laymen up north who is fighting Beacons was that canonical-legal structures are essential to what make up a parish, but the familial-fatherly relationship of the priest? This was not highlighted in his article.

Now, I hasten to explain, the author didn't deny the importance of a pastor; but I  would argue his article takes it for granted; and the main thing is, he doesn't address my point at all, namely: what happens to the family when the family must share dad with several other families, all attempting to be separate families. The key thing these good people are insisting on is the separateness.

They seem to want, if they can't have stand-alone parishes, each with their own pastors, then the "clustering" model in which a father must be father two, three or five times over. 

My conclusion: is that we just don't really believe it when we call priests "father." In which case, let's stop doing that, and call them them something else. 

Sunday, February 25, 2024

Who needs this? (Sunday homily)

 There are a lot of puzzles in the readings today. 

What do we make of them?


Mystery number one: 

why would God tell Abraham to offer his only son Isaac as a sacrifice?


To work it out, let’s eliminate the impossible.

First: God did NOT want Abraham to sacrifice Isaac; 

God had no NEED for Abraham to do that. 


So where did this even come from?

Remember, Abraham has been on a long journey of faith.

Slow growth, two steps forward, one step back. Sound familiar?


So it’s also very easy to understand why Abraham would get to a point where he’d say, I’m finally ready! Let me show you!


It was Abraham who needed the test.

And so, just at the last moment God says, 

“I know now how devoted you are.” 


God didn’t learn anything he didn’t already know. 

But what do you suppose it meant for Abraham 

to hear those words from God? 


Now let’s turn to puzzle number two: 

what is the transfiguration of Jesus in the Gospel about? 

What does it mean?


Jesus knows who he is. The Father knows who he is. 

But do Peter, James and John? 



This happens after Peter has said to Jesus, 

“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” 

And yet, when the Lord reveals to Peter 

that he will be crucified, Peter is aghast; he can’t accept that.


An ancient tradition holds 

that this event happened 40 days before Jesus was executed; 

that’s why we read it every year on the second Sunday of Lent.


This revelation of Jesus’ glory was something the Apostles needed. 

They needed to hear from heaven: “This is my beloved son.”


So now let’s deal with puzzle number three.

The glory that Jesus unveils was always there, but usually hidden.


Now that we’re thinking about that, 

are there more glories hidden in plain sight? 


Well, you and I know there are.


We might think of Creation around us

Whether you’re a scientist, or doctor, or a gardener,

Or a parent, gazing at your own children,

The more you look, the more glory you find.


We might think of the building-blocks of our Catholic Faith:

The sacraments, the Mass, and our prayer.

On the surface, they may seem ordinary.

I remember saying as a boy: “Mass is boring!” 

And not appreciating the peace and power of the Rosary.




When you and I are baptized, we didn’t look any different.

Yet we were clothed in the glory of the Lord –

the exact same glory the Apostles were shown.


When Holy Mass happens, on the surface you see a familiar building, priests and servers and readers and everyone else, very ordinary.


And yet, on this altar, Good Friday and the Resurrection happen!

At this altar, you and I are surrounded by the angels and saints, 

who fall down in adoration along with us!


The Holy Eucharist is not just a thing; 

not just a bit of bread or a sip of wine, no!

We are offered the gift of Jesus’ own self, 

his Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity!


Jesus gave this moment to the Apostles, because he knew the dark trials just ahead, a few weeks.


What fear or anxiety are you facing?

Perhaps you are standing with someone in agony,

The way Mary, Mary Magdalene, the Apostle John and others

stood at the foot of the Cross?

Are you facing darkness and trial? 


You and I, too, need to see the hidden glory. 

God didn’t need it, we need it so we remember the glory that is ours, 

to face the trials ahead for each of us.


Saturday, February 24, 2024

Why can't non-Catholics come to communion? Exodus gives the answer

This question comes up a lot and most Catholics, including most clergy, feel awkward about the subject. It seems to many -- including Catholics -- to be rude and uncalled for. Most of us struggle to explain the matter.

Explanations that don't result in hurt feelings are best, but that option isn't always available. What follows is offered both to be kind and to be clear. Pray for both me as the messenger, and yourself as the recipient!

Several short answers:

- To receive the Holy Eucharist is -- for Catholics -- a profound act of faith, that presupposes suitable preparation, and actually being a Catholic or in communion with the Catholic Church. (An exception is available for some Christians who are extremely close to communion with the Catholic Church, that is, Orthodox and other Eastern Christians. Ask if you want to know more.)

- Someone might object, but you make it sound like only Catholics take it so seriously. I'm not attempting to speak for other Christians' approach to the matter, because we Catholics should not presume to speak for others in this matter. We can only profess our faith. That said, I can observe that what others profess is different in non-trivial ways; and, if you ask, other Christian traditions will themselves affirm, their and our beliefs on this subject are different in non-trivial ways.

- When someone seeks to participate in a Catholic sacrament, why is it unreasonable for Catholics to expect that person to approach it according to a Catholic understanding (as opposed to an Evangelical or Protestant or other understanding)? I don't mean people have to believe what we believe. I mean, we ask people to engage with Catholic sacred matters, in the way that we would have them be engaged with, not as might seem appropriate in other traditions. Turn it around: would it not be supremely rude for us Catholics, attending, say, a Presbyterian worship service, to approach a ritual or custom on our own terms, regardless of what our Presbyterian hosts hold to? Think about it.

- Part of our Catholic understanding is that we should be faithful to the teaching of Christ himself, passed to us through the Apostles, both in what is handed down (Tradition) and written down (Scripture). 

- What Catholics practice in this matter is faithful to Scripture and Tradition. If anything, we Catholics in the 21st century are, if anything, less rigorous than the early Christians; the practice of "open communion" has zero justification in either Scripture or Tradition, as we see it; so we don't do it.

- We Catholics think that the Eucharist is one of those really central matters, where what is really important is not avoiding awkwardness, but introducing everyone to the truth of Jesus Christ. That includes a faithful presentation of his teaching about the nature of the Church, and her sacraments, above all, the Sacrifice of the Mass and the Holy Eucharist. We do no one any favors when we shrug and say, do what you like, and thus fail to teach and practice what Christ and his Apostles taught and practiced.

- The Holy Eucharist was one thing about which Jesus was willing to have people be upset with him (John 6:60-66). Was he wrong?

Now, let me share a longer answer, based on the reading from Exodus (12:37-49; 13:11-16) in today's Office of Readings, which is part of the Liturgy of the Hours.*

The Israelites set out from Rameses for Succoth, about six hundred thousand men on foot, not counting the children. A crowd of mixed ancestry also went up with them, with livestock in great abundance, both flocks and herds.

The dough they had brought out of Egypt they baked into unleavened loaves. It was not leavened, because they had been driven out of Egypt and could not wait. They did not even prepare food for the journey.

The time the Israelites had stayed in Egypt was four hundred and thirty years.

At the end of four hundred and thirty years, on this very date, all the armies of the LORD left the land of Egypt.

This was a night of vigil for the LORD, when he brought them out of the land of Egypt; so on this night all Israelites must keep a vigil for the LORD throughout their generations.

The LORD said to Moses and Aaron: This is the Passover statute. No foreigner may eat of it. However, every slave bought for money you will circumcise; then he may eat of it. But no tenant or hired worker may eat of it.

It must be eaten in one house; you may not take any of its meat outside the house. You shall not break any of its bones.

The whole community of Israel must celebrate this feast.

If any alien residing among you would celebrate the Passover for the LORD, all his males must be circumcised, and then he may join in its celebration just like the natives. But no one who is uncircumcised may eat of it.

There will be one law for the native and for the alien residing among you.

“When the LORD, your God, has brought you into the land of the Canaanites, just as he swore to you and your ancestors, and gives it to you, you will dedicate to the LORD every newborn that opens the womb; and every firstborn male of your animals will belong to the LORD.

Every firstborn of a donkey you will ransom with a sheep. If you do not ransom it, you will break its neck. Every human firstborn of your sons you must ransom.

And when your son asks you later on, ‘What does this mean?’ you will tell him, ‘With a strong hand the LORD brought us out of Egypt, out of a house of slavery.

When Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let us go, the LORD killed every firstborn in the land of Egypt, the firstborn of human being and beast alike. That is why I sacrifice to the LORD every male that opens the womb, and why I ransom every firstborn of my sons.’

It will be like a sign on your hand and a band on your forehead that with a strong hand the LORD brought us out of Egypt.”

There's a lot here, but I want to focus in on one key theme. To help you see it, I used two colors for highlighting.

The Passover is the defining act of sacrifice and worship uniting the House of Israel. Notice the language: "it must be eaten in one house." Now, this means that each Israelite would gather in his home, or that of a neighbor, to share a lamb, and this was to be done by all Israelites, in many houses; and yet, they are all, in a real sense, one "house" of Israel: "The whole community of Israel must celebrate this feast." Elsewhere, the Lord says that anyone who fails to take part is "cut off."

Notice the language I color-coded: blue for the House of Israel, the "you" to whom the Lord speaks; the "us" that is brought out of "Egypt, that place of slavery." Hence, Egypt and the surrounding nations are not "us." They are the "alien" and "foreigner." 

(This is not a racial or nationalistic thing, by the way; later in the story of God's People journeying to the Promised Land, there's some issue raised about the race of Moses' wife; it is Moses' sister, Miriam, who sniffs at her sister-in-law's skin color. Note that God's response is to give Miriam ultra-white skin, via leprosy! And yet, down to the present, some want to read the Bible's language about Israel's election in this way; the New Testament certainly gives a complete refutation of that mistake.)

No, the point of this language is this: to partake of the Passover is to be part of the family. We might think of an ordinary family meal in any home. 

When I was a boy, I would often be at a friend's house, or a friend would be at our house. I might wish to be invited to dinner; and I might be so ill-mannered as to drop hints. But my parents taught me that one waits to be invited, doesn't expect it, and doesn't get pouty about not being invited. And also, I was brought up to give that invitation; but to ask mom first. We were welcoming, but our family meal was an important moment for our...family.

In the case of the Passover, this is the most solemn, most profound "family meal." And, as with our daily family meals, a visitor can likewise be invited to join. But notice what is necessary: he must be "circumcised"! A little more serious than washing ones hands!

The point here should be obvious: it isn't about the bit of skin down there; rather, it's about that individual crossing a threshold from being "alien" to being part of the family, the House of Israel. In other words, participating in the Passover isn't a casual thing, it isn't appropriate for someone who is "transient," that is, just passing through. Rather, one must belong. 

And regardless of the ritual and process of belonging, that transition from outsider to belonging is, first and last, a journey of faith; a point Saint Paul in particular would make in his letters. And, of course, for Christians, it's no longer the ritual of circumcision; but rather, baptism, and the profession of faith that belongs with it. 

Here's where someone will say, ok then, that means anyone who is baptized should be able to come to Holy Communion! 

Yeah...but no, sorry. Here's why.

Sticking with the Passover, we might look to Numbers chapter 9; there we learn about some who couldn't take part in the sacrifice because they were "unclean." That simply refers to their readiness for participation in worship; it isn't a moral judgment. 

In that case, it had to do with some men who had handled a corpse, which presumably meant they'd assisted in someone's funeral, which is a good deed. Even so, for reasons we won't delve into here, God specified that various things or actions rendered someone "unclean," and he also gave the means to become "clean"; for our purposes, we might substitute "unready" and "ready," i.e., for sharing in worship.

So notice: not everyone who belongs to the Household was necessarily "ready." If this is true in merely ceremonial matters, surely it is true in matters of faith and morals? Are these less important than externals? Surely not! So what might render someone "unready"?

Well, to begin with the mere ceremonial: having fasted before eating the Passover. We Catholics observe an hour's fast; it used to be longer and stricter. 

Further, one is expected to be in a state of grace, that is, not conscious of a mortal sin. We might recall the Lord Jesus' command: if you realize your brother has something against you, first go be reconciled to your brother, then present your gift at the temple. 

And, thirdly, there is the thorny yet serious question of actually sharing the faith -- the oneness of the household. It is sad, but not all those who are baptized share that oneness. This is the reality of divisions among Christians. It is a scandal. It must be overcome; not merely ignored.

But here's the certainly wrong answer: to say these differences aren't real and don't matter -- which is what one says by sharing the Eucharist regardless of those differences!**

Here is a Christian who believes the bread and wine are "transubstantiated" into the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ. This Eucharist is a communion in his death, and the Mass is a communion in that sacrifice; hence the Mass is a true sacrifice. This is what Catholics believe and profess. I will not speak for Orthodox and Eastern Christians, but at least as Catholics understand it, the Orthodox/Eastern understanding is the same in essence, if not in articulation.

Next are Christians who use similar language of "Body" "Blood" and "sacrament," yet if you delve deeper, you will find they insist that the Eucharist is not actually Jesus' own self, but some sort of representation thereof. Some of these will likewise reject any talk of the Mass being a true sacrifice. And what reveals the parting of ways is that these Christians will draw back from adoring the Eucharist; they will call that idolatry. And, if the Eucharist is not to be identified with the Second Person of the Trinity, they are correct. That this difference is a little obscure does not make it unimportant.

Next are Christians who will explicitly reject language of sacrifice and they will be clear that what they receive is merely bread, merely wine (or grape juice). They affirm the "elements" change not at all. The revealing sign of this belief is that after their worship is ended, the remaining bread and juice is put back in the cupboard; or else disposed of as any other ordinary food leftovers might be.

We could go on, and speak of those who honor Jesus, and are baptized, and yet they do not believe Jesus is God; their baptism, it turns out, cannot be identified with Christian baptism. And there are other curious movements and traditions. 

But after sorting through all the different groups that have, sadly, splintered apart, what it all comes down to is this: what does it mean to say, we are one? The Passover is the act of "one household," both in the instance of a group, at home, gathering around a lamb, and in the sense of the entire People, united in this communion. 

There is no way to take this as seriously as clearly the Lord did in Moses' time, and as he did with his Apostles, and then say, "y'all just come on in, we won't ask any awkward questions about whether you really are -- or even want to be -- part of the Household of Jesus." 

The Scriptures themselves make this so clear; and it was clear enough at the beginning, because all evidence is that the first Christians observed the Passover of Jesus, that is, the Eucharist, with essentially the same sense of belonging and oneness that we see in the Passover of old, which prefigures the Eucharist.

To be blunt: would it not be fair to turn around the burden of proof? And say to those who insist, despite ample evidence of Scripture and Tradition and history, that the Eucharist must be open, "Prove it, please"? Provide something from Scripture, something from the early Church, to support what you ask for.

And, I might add: not only "ask for," for yourselves, but insist on imposing when you attend a Catholic Mass! 

People will say, oh Jesus was willing to eat with anyone! And that's true. But that is irrelevant to the Eucharist, because the Eucharist is rather more than lunch or dinner. Show me where Jesus celebrated the Eucharist with any and all.

In fact, in the few times we observe Jesus actually celebrating the Eucharist -- i.e., certainly on Holy Thursday, but also if you wish, on Easter, with the two he met on the road to Emmaus -- notice that those who participated were invited. They were presumed to be disciples. When did Jesus say, everyone come on in, I'll share the Eucharist with you? 

OK, there's my case from Exodus. What do you say?

* The Liturgy of the Hours, or Daily Office, is part of the Church's public, that is, shared prayer; all are welcome and encouraged to share in this prayer; clergy are obligated to offer these prayers daily. Ideally we do so with the faithful, but in practice, we do so on our own.

** And, I might just add, how offensive! Obviously, my fellow Catholics and I don't agree with our fellow Christians who cannot assent to the Catholic Faith in its fullness (including, but not limited to, what we believe about the Mass and the Eucharist); but I wouldn't dare to dismiss their objections as trivial. It is awkward, yes, but not insulting to say, "we have differences, and they are substantial." What is insulting is to trivialize those differences, for which people (of their traditions, and of ours) have paid a high price, even their lives.

Sunday, February 18, 2024

The most important day of your life (Sunday homily)

 What do you think was the most important day of your life?


Was it the day you were born? 

Or maybe when you graduated from school? 


Or when you met your sweetheart? Or when you were married?

Maybe you have four or five most important days: 

when each of your children was born?


Was mine when I was ordained as a priest?


No: as very special as all those are, 

none of those was the most important day of your life. 


The most important day of your life – and mine – 

was the day we were baptized;

because that is when you and I received eternal life!


You and I were joined to the life of the Holy Trinity

and we became citizens of heaven.

That changes everything.


What does that have to do with the flood in the first reading?


The flood washes away all that is hostile to the life of God; 

everything that separates and distracts us from God.

And that is what baptism does, too.


So how do we get from a flood to the desert?


When you wash away everything that commandeers our attention, 

all the urgent that isn’t important -- when all that is gone, what’s left? 


What’s left is the essential confrontation 

between good and evil that we see in the Gospel,

with all the distractions and illusions stripped away.


Above all, notice it is Jesus facing the devil – not us. 

He’s squaring off in the battle each of us faces.

Jesus confronts our enemy on our behalf.


What happened when we humans faced the devil 

the first time, doing it for ourselves? 


That was our first parents, in the Garden.

They lost, and our hope was destroyed.

So, as St. John Henry Newman said, 

“A second Adam to the fight and to the rescue came.”


The confrontation comes day by day, the choice between

Embracing the truth of ourselves as God created us to be,

Versus the illusion of making ourselves our own gods;

but we never need face our ancient foe alone. 


That’s what Good Friday and the Cross are about. 

Jesus had a choice; he said, let the cup pass, if possible;

but if not, Father, thy will be done! 


Once again, that is what baptism is about:

you and I being joined to Jesus: we take up his cross;

and he takes up the battle on our behalf.


(That’s why we recall our own baptism today, 

and why we will do that in a solemn way in six weeks on Easter.)



Someone once told me, always have an action item in a homily.

So here it is: you have six weeks of Lent 

to discover the power and reality of your own baptism – 

the most important day of your life.


Go to confession: return to the purity of your baptism.

Remember the vows made for you. Make them again for yourself.

On the day of your baptism, you were set on the path toward heaven. 


This time of Lent is our opportunity to recheck our heavenly GPS

And make sure you and I are still headed the right way.


Sunday, February 11, 2024

What's leprosy got to do with Lent? (Sunday homily)

 Skin diseases might be an odd thing to talk about at Mass. 

But the point is that illnesses like these do more than make us sick. 

They separate us from others. 


Four years ago when we had the lockdowns in reaction to Covid, 

among other things, many of us discovered 

just how destructive isolation can be.


That’s why Jesus told the man to go show himself to the priests, 

so there would be no question of his freedom to return to the temple.


Ash Wednesday is this week. 

This is a good time to set the tone for our Lent.


I’m going to tell you something you may not believe, but’s it’s true. 

Ash Wednesday is not a Holy Day of Obligation.

It really isn’t! And yet, our churches will be filled. Why?


Ash Wednesday – and Lent as well – 

is one of those times when we realize 

our spiritual journey isn’t solitary. We are part of a family.


Notice, we all do certain penances together:

Fasting on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday,

and abstaining from meat on the Fridays of Lent.

Our students and our families will do things together.

There is power in that “together,” isn’t there?


As we go into Lent, I want to highlight 

some of the opportunities we have – together – 

to grow closer to Christ. That’s what it’s all for.



There are still forms in the pews for the Catholic Ministries Appeal, 

if you want to contribute.


We’re offering a retreat for men and one for women in a few weeks. 

You’ll see various materials provided at the doors of church.


Please watch the bulletin for many added times for confession.

As in Advent and last Lent, we’ll have confessions 

every Monday and every Tuesday evening, 

and on Thursday and Saturday mornings, in addition to our usual times. 

And we’ll have times on Good Friday.


When we go to confession, we do that individually; 

and yet, even there, we’re together in a way.

I’m in that line; you are; your parents, your children, 

Archbishop Schnurr, Pope Francis – all of us.


There’s another part of this. Lent is not only about holiness; 

it is also about reconciliation.  

Remember, we call confession the sacrament of reconciliation.

The leper, being cleansed, 

was also able to be reconciled with the community.


When we go to confession, as hard as it can be to tell our sins, 

that is still, really, the easier part.

The really hard part is what we do next – 

after we are absolved, after we do our penance.


The really hard work comes next. 


Who do you know who is owed an apology? Seek them out.



What concrete steps are you prepared to make, 

in order to be different toward others?

Seeking out someone to be reconciled with?


People say, “Oh, that’s just my nature, I can’t help it.”

O c’mon!

Being Irish or German or Scottish or whatever is not an excuse.

Change is hard; but we can do it, if we really want it, with God’s help. 

It’ll still be difficult, but you and I can make it happen.


If you want a powerful conversion experience, 

ask the Holy Spirit to awaken you 

to how your sins affect other people.


If you are making fun of other kids, or bullying them, at school?

If you are drinking too much, too often? 

Being dishonest? Not doing a full day’s work? 

Those pictures on the Internet? They are real, flesh-and-blood people.


In other words, none of our moral failures are really “private”; 

our actions and omissions affect others, one way or the other.


So as we go into Lent, be mindful of the people around you.

How you and I can either be a negative influence – or a good one.

Lent – repentance and conversion – is something we do together.