Walk Thru the Mass at Immaculata

Would you like to learn more about the Mass? 

Starting Wednesday, November 6, I’ll have a three-week “Walk Through the Mass” series. We’ll meet in Immaculata Church -- 30 Guido Street in Mount Adams -- at 7 pm, for one hour. I’ll walk through the entire Mass.  

Wednesday, Nov. 6 will be the beginning of Mass to the Creed; Nov. 13, the offertory and the Eucharistic Prayer; Nov. 20 will be the Our Father to the end.

This would be a great way to engage your children. I'd be delighted to have your kids ask questions like, "Why do you wear that?" "Why do you say ____?" "Why do you go here, and go there, and do this and that?" (I've noticed kids will say out loud the questions adults want to ask, but won't.)

I hope to see you there!

Sorry to be away...I've been busy!

It's been a good, but busy, two weeks.

Last weekend, many weeks of planning came to fruition at the parish. The Pastoral Council, the Finance Council, and I have been discussing, since the summer, the need to have an effort in the parish to acquaint parishioners with the financial needs of the parish and ask for folks' help in raising weekly contributions. We had a series of messages, in the bulletin and from the pulpit, over many weeks, about the situation. Over two weeks, parishioners shared personally about what their parish means to them; one weekend, we had a financial report that laid out the facts; and then the following week--last week--I made the case.

However, I made a mistake: I failed to notice that I had an obligation that would take me away on Saturday evening (a wedding at my prior parish). There was no getting around it: I simply had to be at the wedding, of course; and I couldn't postpone the whole program.

So, last weekend, I made the case at the Sunday Masses; this weekend, I made the case on Saturday.

As it happens, I was busy with other things, and simply couldn't get around to writing out my homily. Many times--and this was one of those times--I just have too many ideas, too many directions, at work in my head, and it's hard to boil it down. This is just one of the things that makes writing a homily hard: figuring out just what thread to follow, what themes to build the the message around.

So it was last week; and again this week. This weekend I had an added complication: my homily on Saturday would be very different from Sunday.

What keeps me busy? Well, a lot of it is meeting with couples preparing for marriage. Anyone familiar with Holy Cross-Immaculata will not be surprised to learn, this is a very popular place for weddings! So that means lots and lots of meetings with couples. And, because they usually are busy all week, that means lots of meetings on Saturdays; and some on Sundays.

And then, after our last Mass today, I had a trip up to Dayton. The folks with the "40 Days for Life" project--involving 40 days of steady prayer outside the abortion mill in Kettering--asked me to come up and give a pep talk this afternoon as part of their closing prayer service (although, it turns out, they will be keeping vigil at the death chamber for one more week). So I shared a few thoughts about what it means that our task seems so hard, and our hopes long delayed. I'm just grateful I didn't forget! I've been doing more of that, lately.

So, sorry for no homilies lately. God willing, I'll have something to post next weekend.

What can young Catholics of today expect from the Church of tomorrow?

...That's the topic I was given, by the young adults group at Holy Cross-Immaculata, when we gathered this past Wednesday for a first "Soul Supper," at a local establishment on The Hill.

We had a great time, eating bar food and drinking beer and discussing the Faith.

Lots of great questions were bandied about; I enjoy fielding questions about the Faith.

But they also asked me to give an answer to the question posed in the title of this post.

Here are the notes I wrote up. They are notes, so I apologize if any thoughts are incomplete or confusing. Feel free to ask questions in the comments about anything that is unclear.

What can you expect from the Church?

1. She will be there, because Christ promised. “Upon this Rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.” Also, the Book of Revelation describes the Church as triumphant in heaven, even as she is engaged in mortal combat on earth, until the final consummation.

The Church’s very existence is miraculous; as is her perseverance.

It’s very hard to explain the origins of the Church, the spread of the Faith, and the catholicity of the Church both then, and between then and now, without seeing it as a matter of divine providence.

There are several things that often seem to threaten the Church:

 Persecution
 New truths (New World, Copernicus, Evolution, Physics)
 New situations
 Corruption

Here’s a famous quote by the English historian Thomas Macaulay:

She saw the commencement of all the governments and of all the ecclesiastical establishments that now exist in the world; and we feel no assurance that she is not destined to see the end of them all. She was great and respected before the Saxon had set foot on Britain, before the Frank had passed the Rhine, when Grecian eloquence still flourished at Antioch, when idols were still worshipped in the temple of Mecca. And she may still exist in undiminished vigour when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's.

2. She will have the same mission: to introduce you to Jesus Christ in this life, so that you can live with him in eternity.

When you think about us—our basic needs, our basic questions, are they really so different? We want a good life; we want to make the most of what we have; we want to share our lives with other people, perhaps be married, perhaps have children. We want to find what will make us truly happy; and we want to make a difference. And, if we reflect on it, we realize these questions extend beyond death. However different our life here in the USA, in AD 2013 is, from the rest of the world and the past, Aren’t the basic questions the same? Someone in Africa or Asia, right now; or someone who lived 500 or 5,000 years ago: wouldn’t they have had those same big questions?

The Baltimore Catechism said it well. Why did God make me? To know, love and serve him in this life, so that I may be supremely happy with him in the next.

This is the mission of the Church. And if you think about it, what the Church does seems—by design—to be evergreen.

Again, a little history. With all that has changed in the life of the Church, we are praying very much in the same manner as the early Church, the basic structure of the Church hasn’t changed all that much, we have the same message, and the same means, the sacraments. I really think that if you could snatch a Christian from the 1st Century and plunk him down in the 21st Century, at Mass, at a baptism, at an ordination, at a wedding, in the confessional, and whatever else was confusing, she would recognize the sacraments.

So many times when I’m explaining the sacraments, or the various practices of the Church, it occurs to me: wasn’t God clever? In how this works out? Long before psychologists gained their insights about the workings of the mind, of conscience, of guilt, we had the sacrament of confession. Long before someone figured out that societies regularly need to find scapegoats; and that rituals of violence can be powerful, purging experiences…long before, God planned for the Passover Lamb, and for himself to come and offer himself on the Cross: The Lamb of God.

3. She will be Christ to you; therefore, speak to you the way Jesus Christ speaks to you.

It’s funny how people will say, “we want the pope to say X” or “we want the priest to say Y.” And we actually spend a fair amount of time, in parishes, and in dioceses, trying to figure out what people want from the Church, what the Church should say or do.

But did you ever see Jesus doing that in the Gospels? Did he ever show up anywhere and say, “What would you like to hear?” The Apostles never did that. They would be invited to speak, but they didn’t do a survey first. When our Lord was invited to speak at the synagogue in Capernaum, he took the scroll of Isaiah, and found what he wanted to read.

By the way, the first reaction to him was very positive. But as he continued speaking, they turned against him, and went to toss him off the cliff!

Father Ted Ross, who teaches at our seminary, says something like this: We don’t need the Church when we’re right; we need her when we’re wrong. And a corollary is, we don’t need the Church to tell us what we already believe and like; we need her to tell us the things we don’t want to believe, or don’t like to hear. That’s what we need her for!

The Gospel at Mass today was really funny. Our Lord is giving the Pharisees a hard time. And after repeatedly saying, Woe to you, Pharisees!, we hear this:

Then one of the scholars of the law said to him in reply,
“Teacher, by saying this you are insulting us too.”
And he said, “Woe also to you scholars of the law!
You impose on people burdens hard to carry,
but you yourselves do not lift one finger to touch them” (Luke 11).

***Here ends my writen notes. I recall winding down with something about how important it is that Christ speaks the truth to us, and that's what we need the Church to do. The truth is, I was racing the clock as I wrote my notes...

What's wrong with two men having sex together, if they love each other?

As a way to getting acquainted with the people of Holy Cross-Immaculata Parish, for the past few weeks, I've been visiting parishioners' homes for small gatherings; we sorted all the parishioners by zip code, and everyone got invited to this or that home. Most of the meetings have happened, but a few are coming up in the next two weeks.

Last night, one of our parishioners asked: "What is wrong with two men, or two women, if they love each other, getting married?" And, as we discussed that, he followed up, "why is it wrong for two people of the same sex to have sex together?"

A great question. Lots of people need to ask us that question, because if we don't have a satisfactory answer, they're not going to accept what the Church teaches. And they won't see why the definition of marriage shouldn't be changed to include same-sex relationships.

So how did I answer?

Well, we covered a lot of topics, and lots of people were joining in, so I can't easily reconstruct my actual answers, versus what I was trying to say. But basically, I explained that as Catholics, we understand God's design to be that sex is inherently both about uniting two people in love, and about procreation; and separating these two parts of the design leads to all manner of trouble. In the course of that, I talked about Pope Paul VI's teaching in Humanae Vitae, contraception, and in vitro fertilization, in which human life is created in a laboratory, rather than in a human act of love.

And I cited something the Catholic writer Mark Shea often says: that there are two phases in how these things play out: first, the "what could it hurt?" phase, followed, sooner or later, by the "how were we supposed to know?" phase.

So, I talked about how God intends sex to be about procreation and family; and that when sex is deliberately rendered sterile--either by intervention or by acts that cannot be life-giving--then it starts down the wrong road.

Each of us, no matter who we are, is meant to be a life-giver. Whether we ever have sex or not, marry or not, conceive children or not, we are life-givers. Everything about is is oriented toward that; including our own psychology and emotional structure. As we go through life, a fundamental desire of every healthy person is to make a difference--to leave something behind--to share what's good with others...to give life. Nothing is more profoundly negative than to look at oneself and find little or nothing, in ones life, that counts as having been a life-giver in the broadest sense. And no matter how old we get, as long as each of us finds some way to give life to others--even very small ways--we will find life worthwhile. I can't prove it empirically, but I rather suspect that this is true, regardless of religion, language, economics or culture. It's something built into us as humans. Either by God--or evolution.

And, I added, that when God tells us not to do certain things, it's not because God finds them icky, but because he knows--even if we don't--that they will, one way or the other, distort our humanity. They are bad for us. And we don't have Ten Commandments telling us not to do things that we'd never dream of doing. There's no, "Thou shalt not stick a knife in your eye" commandment, because no one needs that to be explained. But "Thou shalt not commit adultery" and "Thou shalt not covet" are not always easy to accept; just as, "Thou shalt not steal/lie/do murder" etc. also can be hard to live by--and so it goes with everything God has told us about how to live.

This morning, in the shower, more occurred to me on the subject. And it comes in the form of a question: if we no longer talk about sexual morality in terms of an inherent purpose or design, then just what sort of morality should apply to sex?

In other words, I wish I'd thought to ask in reply, "And what if they don't love each other? What's wrong with sex then?" Who says it has to be about love?

Why, for example, should we expect people to be married before they have sex? Why, in fact, does it matter for people to have any particular commitment or love? Why isn't consent sufficient?

(And, if you say, because of children, then my reply is--and if there are no children? Never will be? Conception can happen by accident in a heterosexual union; but gay couples can pretty confidently say there won't be any oops babies.)

Of course I know that many people think exactly this. But this is a question I'm posing, very specifically, to those who say they are Christians, and yet say Christianity should have no objection to same-sex behavior.

If that's you, reading this, feel free to answer in the comments: if you think there's nothing immoral about two men or two women having sex, do you attach any conditions? I.e., do you think they should be married? In love? Even know each other? Be limited to two parties to the relationship? Not be too closely related? Is it immoral to sell sex for income? Is casual sex immoral?

I'm serious. If you are OK with gay sex inside marriage, or inside some sort of commitment--but you think it's wrong, say, on a casual basis, then my question is, WHY?

Secularists are more coherent on this: they will make it all about consent; sometimes they will also insist on safety--but then, is risky sex immoral if there is consent?

But I'll say it again: I'm asking people who say they're Christians for their answer.

If it's not the Bible, or the Church, or Natural Law, that determines the morality of any particular sexual act--what does?

The truth is, a lot of people have moral stances that are largely based on an "ick" factor. They think eating dogs or horses is "wrong," but not eating cows or pigs. Why?

Similarly, they will say they see nothing immoral about same-sex behavior, but they will refuse to address the question of whether sex among multiple partners is immoral, or casual sex, or incest, or pornography, or sex-for-pay, or bestiality, etc. If you can't articulate a coherent moral argument for allowing one, and not the other, then I say you're really applying a morality of "ick"--and, sorry, that won't work.

After all, that really is how the moral argument against same-sex behavior was sustained, socially, for some time--and why, I think, it collapsed so readily in recent years. A lot of people thought homosexual acts were wrong, not so much for any coherent moral reasoning, but because they found it icky. And now, a new generation of people doesn't find it icky; either they don't care, or they may find it intriguing.

And, I ask again--not so much of agnostic libertines, but of professed Christians--why shouldn't they?

The agnostic-libertine morality of our society is that consent is the only real moral criteria. Thus we emphasize "consenting adults."

Now, someone will protest, oh Fox, you're dragging in red herrings. No one is advocating any of these other things, just an acceptance of gay people and their sexuality, and allowing them to marry. All this talk of polyamory and incest is just a scare tactic.

Well, first, it's simply not true no one is advocating for these things; but it is true that this advocacy is far from a significant political force. And I will readily concede that they may never have an impact on the civil law.

But that's all irrelevant. If that comes up in the comments, the red-herring-in-dragger is you, dear commenter!

This post is expressed by the headline: it's about sexual morality. If society never legalizes polygamy or incest, there are still moral questions at stake here. And the point I'm making is that when Christians set aside the existing rationale for Christian sexual morality, something has to take it's place.

What?

The truth is, that the understanding Catholics (and all Christians, even if they don't realize it) have on these matters is both rooted in what is revealed -- via Scripture and Tradition -- as well as Natural Law.*

Now, whenever I bring up Natural Law on this site, some tedious person shows up to complain. Well, let's save you the trouble, if you're reading. You're perfectly free to say there is no Natural Law. There, I just saved you the trouble! And the other argument will be that Natural Law never had anything to do with civil law, and no one but Catholics ever believed in it.

I'm certain the second point is simply wrong, although it's true that the whole body of thought around the term "Natural Law" was developed in the context of Western--i.e., Christian--Civilization. It's not my place to say what non-Christian cultures have to say about it. But I will say that the insights of Natural Law are not constrained by their Christian matrix; I see no reason one has to be a Christian--or, as I said, even to believe in God--to find the approach useful, and even true.

One basic insight of Natural Law is that there is a design, and order, and structure, to each thing, and all things, and it behooves us, as creatures in this world, both to discern that order--that "Law"--and to live according to it. It's not law in the stricter sense of a law of gravity; but in an analogous sense, with analogous consequences for disregarding the law.

But in our time, humanity increasingly is thinking, and acting, in a very ahistorical, and morally autonomous way. What I mean is this: increasingly we are supposing that human history and experience (all bound up in Natural Law thinking), as well as any other "handed down" sources of truth, are advisory at best. Or to use C.S. Lewis's imagery, we are cutting off the limb on which we are perched, confident that nothing bad will happen when the limb is detached from the tree. And, of course, that's only perilous if there really is a tree; if not, then indeed, we can cut away the excess. In any case, once the final cut takes place, we'll find out, won't we?

So, of course, it may be that if there is a God, there really is no plan in his Creation that we are bound to respect. Or, indeed, there may not be a God to contribute a plan. And if there is no God, even if we can discern some sort of structure, or "law" in the order of things, who says we can't remake it?

A thought comes to mind unrelated to human sexuality, but about the natural environment. Isn't it interesting how frequently the argument about things like climate, and exploration for oil, and whether to modify or develop various natural resources, will involve stern warnings about not respecting the structure and order of the natural world? And I think there are people who believe in Natural Law in morality, but not in ecology; and vice versa. In any case, the argument that is often made in questions of climate, or exploiting natural resources, is that if we master the technology, we should not hold back from redesigning the natural design. So we have efforts to redesign food we grow and eat, proposals for "geo-engineering" aimed at addressing climate-change concerns, and we have people busily working to redesign humanity itself.

Similarly, much of the unexpressed mindset behind a new morality on sexuality is the notion that, whatever "law" we might have discerned in human nature about what sex is for, we should have no compunctions in setting these aside, and creating a new design.

So, for example, God, or evolution (take your pick) has given us a complementary sexuality: male and female. Regardless of what sexual attraction anyone feels, however deep-seated, toward anyone or anything, the fact remains, as of Noon on October 18, AD 2013, that male and female are both necessary for procreation.

Ah, but not for long! There are folks working on a new design. And that, my friends, is the context of this whole debate over sexual morality in general, and redefining marriage in particular.

Consider this. If some segment of humanity pulls off a new design--let's suppose we begin creating human life through cloning, or some other process, that may eventually completely leave sexual intercourse and the womb behind--who lives with that achievement? People who do not yet exist.

How much does this change the world? Will it be a greater change than, say, caused by fracking, or genetically modified wheat, or some of the geo-engineering schemes aimed at storing carbon, or otherwise cooling the planet? It's one thing to redesign a tomato, or a mountain; it's something else to redesign us.

In other words, we're seeing the truth of what a character in Fyodor Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov asked: "Without God and the future life? It means everything is permitted now, one can do anything?"

My answer? I've given it. Once we depart from God's Plan, we start down a wrong road. It's also a very long road. I think the next 50 years will give us a vivid tour of that wrong road.

* Natural Law, in a nutshell, is the term given to those "laws" that can be discerned, through the use of human reason, to the observation of the world around us, including ourselves, and how we are designed and operate. It generally presupposes a Creator, but it seems to me one could articulate a Natural Law without a Creator. Since I am not seeking to do that, I'll let others pursue that line.

Power: Real and Imagined; Self and God (Sunday homily)

Of all the things we might see in these readings, 
I’d like to suggest we think about power; 
and the contrast between the power we want, and the power we have.

Naaman is a powerful official with the King of Aram. 
But he has leprosy, and he can’t cure it.

If you read the larger story, you’ll see he traveled a long way, 
expecting the prophet to come out and pray over him. 
Instead, Elisha sent a message: go bathe in the Jordan River. 

Naaman was angry. 
He was a big-shot, and he expected to be treated that way.
Had Naaman not let go of his pride and anger,
He’d have gone home empty handed.

A lot of people wonder why they get angry.
Listen, and I’ll tell you a big reason why.

We get angry because we expect to have power in a situation, 
And we are frustrated when we do not.

A baby is crawling toward a hot stove.
Mom picks up baby; baby howls with fury.

Later, mom is driving up 75—in the fast lane. 
Behind a slow driver!
Mom howls with fury.

Or, we’re watching the news on TV. 
An elected official comes on. We don’t like him!
Now we howl: you’re wrecking the country! 

It’s all the same: I expect my way. I didn’t get my way. Fury!

Now: look at the second reading.
When Paul talks about the glory and power of God, 
What does he point to? 
Jesus—God—our King—nailed to the cross!

Why didn’t Jesus get angry?

For the same reason Naaman didn’t turn around go back home.

My way? Or God’s way?
Ego? Or surrender?
Now, my point is not to be passive in the face of wrong.
Naaman was not passive. 
He did what was within his power to do.

So, with the politicians, we can speak out, we can get involved, we can vote. 
We get a very thin slice of power, and we can and must use it for good.

But beyond that? Isn’t that God’s problem?

We’ve been talking about stewardship lately. 
A steward isn’t the boss—but he exercise power given him by his boss.
Part of that is material resources. 
So we’ve been talking about the financial support we give to the parish.
And, in the bulletin this weekend, we have a parish financial report.

But a good steward does a careful inventory.
And we have a lot of gifts that are not material. 
In my visits with parishioners, 
I keep hearing you say how much you value each other!
That’s part of the inventory—along with all the talents each of us has.

I said we get angry because we don’t have the power we want.
The flip side is we fail to appreciate the power we actually do have.

And I mentioned one, which is prayer. Real, intense, focused, sustained prayer.
And the power of prayer is precisely the power of God.
And the change it brings includes changing us—bending us and our will to His.
And I’ll always remember what a priest said once, 
in promoting adoration of the Holy Eucharist (which we’ll have after the 8 am Mass):
He said, the truth we won’t admit is, we don’t like to pray!
And he’s right!

Yelling at the politicians indulges my fantasy of being powerful.
While prayer demands the one thing I hate: 
It bends my ego right down to the ground!

In taking this inventory of power we actually do have,
There remains the awesome power of my own, individual choice. 
I can’t make the world change; I can’t make you change.
But I can choose to change myself! That’s my little kingdom. 
It’s not very big, but in the kingdom of my life, and my soul, 
God has put me in charge. 

Here, at last, we come to the paradox. 
I’m king of my life; and yet I am powerless 
over my own sins and failures,
my ego and pride and lust and greed.
Yet when I bow down before my Savior, nailed to the Cross.
When I let my ego be nailed there with him.
Then I have his power. That is freedom! That is Life!
That is yours! That is mine!

What First Communions have become...

Battle of Lepanto

My friend Rich Leonardi posted this a few days ago, I meant to link to it.

The Battle of Lepanto is one of the pivotal battles of all time.

What Hallowe’en is—and is not

(This was my bulletin column last Sunday at Holy Cross-Immaculata Parish.)

As this annual holiday draws near, it’s good to set some things straight. A lot of people have the wrong idea about Hallowe’en—due both to how TV and the movies depict it, and also how some misinformed, but well intentioned people, talk about it.

It’s not pagan! It’s Catholic. It’s the eve of All Hallows—aka, All Saints. Some pagan practices had an influence; but this way overstated. It would be more accurate to say that both paganism and Catholicism do similar things—marking time and taking account of the rhythms of nature and life—but for very different reasons.  But similarities and coincidences are inevitable.

Begging for snacks appears to originate from “souling”—in which poor people would seek food, offering prayers in return. It’s similar to Christmas caroling or “wassailing.” Dressing up may come from All Souls Day, Nov. 2. There was a custom in France, in the 1500s, of having plays that showed a “parade” of humanity, from birth, to death, to eternity, involved dressing up. It wasn’t sinister, but an invitation to conversion and prayer.

In our country, many Catholic images and practices have been “drained” of their Catholic content, only to be replaced with more questionable content. St. Patrick has been turned into a leprechaun who drinks too much. St. Nicholas became a shill for Coca-Cola. Easter and Christmas have been transformed; and this is what has happened with Hallowe’en.

How about we re-Christianize Hallowe’en? What if your child, while visiting homes, offered a prayer card in return—or simply promised a prayer? Visit 20 homes, say 20 “Glory Bes”? If the kids don’t dress as saints, at least be something heroic or fun, but not sinister.

I strongly urge you to avoid the darker things that have crept in. I know its fun to say “boo!”—but much of secular Hallowe’en goes way beyond that. We have TV shows and movies that are filled with darkness—and we make a grave mistake thinking this is all fun and games. Spiritual evil is real, and not to be taken lightly. And we have no reason to fear: we have Christ and the Sacraments!

Choice or Love (Sunday homily)

Is it off-putting to hear our Lord describe us as “servants,”

and to have him tell us not to expect praise from God

when we simply do what was expected?

If so, why? God is God, and we are his creatures.

Maybe the reason why is that most of the time,

we are told, or we tell ourselves, how important we are.

How special we are.

Now, I think it’s true that some people have too little self-esteem.

We hear about that. But we never seem to hear much discussion

of whether we have too much self-esteem!

Ego. Narcissism. It’s all about me.

But we have a whole lot of children suffering in our society

because of adults who put themselves, and their relationships,

their own freedom, ahead of responsibility

to the children they brought into the world.

In the whole discussion about

changing our society’s collective definition of marriage,

the issue of children has almost entirely been pushed aside;

because in our modern age,

marriage and the raising of children have been disconnected.

None of this changes the fact that a child can’t exist

without a mother and a father.

Either children are welcomed—even when they show up unexpectedly—

or else they will be discarded,

because they are imperfect,

or else because they don’t fit into the adults’ plans.

Our society says, it’s all about choice.

I’d like to suggest that what the Gospel says,

is that it’s all about love.

Growing up, my parents told me they loved me.

But that’s not what lives in my memory.

What I remember—

what touches me more deeply as I grow older—

is the memory of how my father and my mother

got up, day after day, and worked.

Everything they did, they did to make a good life for all of us—

but most of it wasn’t for them; but for their children. For me.

And I don’t know how any of that

could have happened if “self” and “choice”

had been number one, instead of love.

Not just my family; but any family.

One of the ways my parents loved me

wasn’t in what they gave me, or what they did for me,

as much as what they refused to give me! When my parents said No!

And their reward was my complaining about how mean they were,

and out of touch, and how they needed to get with the times!

Isn’t that what happens to us, as Catholics, when we confront our world,

and sometimes one another,

with parts of the Gospel that aren’t so easy to hear?

So, yes, we have been against war when everyone said go.

We oppose the death penalty and speak out against vengeance.

When our government says torture is necessary, it’s our duty to say No!

And when we are asked to buy the notion

that the dignity of women

must come at the cost of destroying unborn children,

again, we have to reject that sort of thinking,

and say, no, both lives are valuable,

because all human life is valuable.

And that’s what’s at stake in the subject of immigration.

Washington is so messed up,

I’m not even going to talk about any legislation.

But one of the key things our bishops are trying to get across—

and they need our help to do it—

is that whatever we do with immigration and borders,

we cannot forget the dignity and real needs of the human beings involved.

Whether with immigration, or war, or abortion, or health care,

or any other issue, it can’t be all about me—us—my kind—

or just about people who talk or look or pray like us.

This part of being a Christian can be hard,

Just like being good parents, or a good friend,

Who sometimes has to take a friend aside, and say, “we need to talk.”

But we do it out of love.

And what God said to the Prophet Habbakuk

in the first reading he says to us:

The message we have has to presented clearly.

And if it seems our vindication is delayed, wait for it.

“The vision will have its time.”

Two kinds of poverty; two kinds of neglect (Sunday homily)

In the readings we heard, there are two kinds of neglect: 
physical and spiritual.

The Gospel describes physical neglect. 
The rich man was aware of Lazarus at his gate—
notice, when he arrives in the next life, 
he recognizes him and calls him by name. 
Yet while both were alive, 
the rich man did nothing at all to help Lazarus.

Perhaps he thought others would take care of him.
Maybe he figured Lazarus’ troubles were his own fault.
And maybe they were. 
It’s true we’ll meet a lot of present-day Lazaruses 
who are in trouble because of drugs or alcohol or other bad choices.

That might affect how we approach them—or how we help them.
But it doesn’t justify our neglecting them.

At bottom is a very simple question: Am I my brother’s keeper?
The answer—so many times from the Lord Jesus—is “damn right.”
Now, pardon my expression, but that’s literally true:
If we forget the poor, we will go to hell—like the rich man.

Sometimes when we talk about poverty or homelessness, 
or all the related problems that vex us, we want to talk about solutions.

And it would be great if we could really solve these things.

However, that isn’t what sent the rich man to hell—
that he failed to solve Lazarus’ problems. 
It’s that he simply didn’t bother to do anything.

Nor is the Bible telling us that being rich is bad.
On the contrary: there are many figures in Scripture who are rich,
 and this is described as a blessing from God. 
Abraham for one; Job for another.

The key question is what we do with our blessings.
The danger of riches—as with so many other things in life—
is that we look to them for security, 
when the only real security we have 
is in our relationship with Jesus Christ.

So, for example, if you’re like me,
and you’ve always had good health;
to have that taken away can be a shattering experience.
Yet notice how often, when we lose that sense of security in our health, 
what do we do—we start praying, don’t we?

Pity the rich man: he spent his life thinking he had it all;
Yet in neglecting his fellow man, he also neglected his own soul.

Which leads to the spiritual neglect I mentioned;
That’s what is going on the first reading.
The prophet Amos is describing those leaders 
who were in a position to help keep the nation on the right track.
But they didn’t care. 

The king, his advisors, the priests and the people of importance,
were either promoting false worship, or else unwilling to rock the boat.

I think I am guilty of not doing enough to help the poor.
And maybe many of us feel the same.

But here’s something to think about.

No one is going to give us a hard time 
if we do more to feed people, 
to provide clothing and vaccinations, and the like.

Everyone will approve of that.

But how will people react if we apply the same zeal 
to addressing spiritual poverty?

So for example: a priest stands in the pulpit and says, go feed the poor.
Everyone applauds.

But if we start talking about the moral climate? 
If I call out the culture, and specify the problems with TV and the Internet,
There might not be so much applause. 

If I talk about how our political leaders are leading us the wrong way—
which is what the Prophet Amos was talking about. 
If I talk about protecting human life, 
upholding marriage and protecting the family?
Or about materialism or how we worship at the altar of national power?*
Then there’s push-back.

And that doesn’t just happen to me—
it happens to you, if you speak up at work, or with family, or in other settings.

So here’s the question: do we only believe in one kind of poverty?
That the only poverty that God cares about is physical?

That doesn’t make sense, does it?

* Added extemporaneously

Friends of God make friends of the poor (Sunday homily)

What the Lord says in the Gospel sounds a little strange in some ways. 

It sounds like he is commending dishonest behavior. 

The steward goes around, and on his own,

is writing down the debts owed to his boss. 

But here’s what is going on.

In those times it was common for the person in that job 

to juice up the prices charged, and keep the difference. 

While we would call that shady, that was more accepted then.

So when the steward learns he’ll lose his job, 

he runs around and marks down the bills, giving back that extra, 

and in so doing, he makes some new friends. 

In other words, he uses his money to secure his future.

The way he did it was in a worldly fashion.

But our Lord is asking us: 

are we thinking about our eternal future in how we use our money?

Jesus often warns us about is all the ways 

we put trust in all the wrong things. 

Wealth is one of those things we can often rely on too much.

It’s not that money is bad; because, in fact, the problem isn’t really with money at all.

Let me say that again: the problem isn’t money…at all!

The problem is us.

Those of us who are a little more…ample, 

will sometimes try to blame it on the food. 

I don’t about you, but I’ve never had food jump in my mouth! 

I’ve never had a beer force itself between my lips!

So what our Lord is saying is, don’t make wealth your goal; 

instead, make your goal the good you can do with it. 

All of us have some wealth: what good are we doing with it?

If you’re providing a job—that’s very good.

And when we spend our money, to the extent we can, 

it’s good to try to do business 

with those who better reflect our Catholic values. 

Obviously we can’t know everything about every business; 

and we can’t police them all. 

But look: a lot of us will complain 

about the low morals of our entertainment industry—

but if we never deny these media companies, or their sponsors, 

our business, what do we expect? 

One question many of us might ponder: 

are we spending too much on ourselves? 

One piece of advice you often hear is, “pay yourself first”—

meaning, put money aside for the future. That’s good advice. 

But what about this: when do we pay God? 

More concretely, what about making sure we’re putting something aside, 

not necessarily for the Church, but for the poor?

One thing the Scriptures say pretty clearly 

is that one of the questions Christ will ask us, 

on the day of our judgment, will be: 

what did you do for the poor? 

That applies to how we do business—

and how we vote—

and also, what we do personally, 

with our own dollars, our own time, 

and our own hands.

Being genuinely concerned for justice for the poor 

isn’t the only thing Christ asks of us—

but it’s one thing he tells us to do:

Make friends with the poor—

As part of being friends with God.

Will the pope OK married priests?

Last week, the newly appointed Vatican Secretary of State made news when, in answer to a question about the Church's ancient practice of priestly (and episcopal) celibacy, acknowledged that this was not a dogma, and it was certainly possible to discuss a change in this discipline.

The news media predictably made much of this; and for a lot of folks, this seemed to be something new.

Well...it's not.

I think, if you were to do an Internet search, you'd find that similar comments have been made by someone "high up" in the Church during the reign of the last three or four popes (with the possible exception of Pope John Paul I, who reigned about a month). It's a perennial question; and the recent answer is the stock answer. It's not the answer I, as a former PR man, would have advised--but this would hardly be the first time one of our prelates handled a question in a way that makes people savvy in media relations cringe.

For what it's worth, my PR advice would have consisted of asking the pope: do you want to generate controversy over this? No? Then I'd have suggested a response along the lines of saying the age-old discipline of celibacy has served the Roman Rite well, and while people are free to advocate for a change, the odds are extraordinarily slim at best that it's going to be changed now.

Meanwhile, the Secretary of State said we can "talk about it," so let's talk about it.

The reading today from St. Paul's first letter to St. Timothy mentioned the families of bishops, raising the question of whether, in the early church, bishops, as well as priests, might have been married. Well, they might indeed have been. But what people forget is that they might also have been expected, after ordination, to remain "continent"--i.e., no longer having marital relations.

But in any case, what people forget is that it was both what Paul wrote elsewhere in his letters, as well as what the Gospels report of our Lord's own instructions, on the value of celibacy for the sake of the Kingdom that provides a clear Biblical support for the discipline. Paul said it best: an unmarried man can serve the Lord without being pulled in two directions. And that's obviously true.

My classmate, the late Father Dan Schuh, said it as well as anyone. Father Schuh was, like me, a later vocation; before entering the seminary, he married, and before his wife died, they had two children. His two grandchildren were present for his (and my) ordination; and when one of them called out, "grandpa!" Archbishop Pilarczyk said it was something he never thought he'd hear at an ordination!

Those of us in the seminary with Dan who hadn't been married asked his take on the "married priest" question. And here is his answer: "what woman would want to be put in second place, or deserve to?"

And that is exactly right. That is an inevitable choice for any married man, pressed by his other obligations; now imagine that married man being your parish priest.

My humorous answer--when someone asks what I think about married priests--is to smile and say, "I'm amused that you think my life would be easier if I had a wife and children." Now, I fear some women think I'm making a crack; but I'm not--I'm just trying to make Father Schuh's point a different way.

Married priests mean priests with children and all that entails. Perhaps with large families. This means fundamental changes in housing arrangements and other financial arrangements for parishes.

Here's a detail that many overlook--but attend carefully here, because this is more significant than you may realize:

At issue isn't whether priests can marry--that will never happen. Repeat: never!

Instead, what is at issue is whether married men might become priests. That is what is potentially possible.

This is not a semantical difference.

While there is ample tradition--to this day--for married men being priests (among the Orthodox and other Eastern Christians), as far as I know, there has never been allowance for men, once ordained, to be married. If their wives die, they remain unmarried. This is the norm, right now, for deacons.

Whether that's good or bad is irrelevant; one thing I predict confidently is that the pope isn't going to overturn an established tradition common to all the ancient, apostolic Churches. It would create a vexing new problem for ecumenism, precisely because it would be a true innovation. I cannot conceive of a reason for any pope to go down that road.

But here's why this distinction matters. Given what I said, any change would mean, in practical terms, that for a priest to be married, he must marry first.

Which means that many of the men who now decide to enter the seminary at a younger age--in their 20s and 30s--would have a reason to wait. Wait until they marry.

But guess what? Once they marry, then they face three huge issues every married person faces:

> Building a good marriage
> Job, career and economic security
> Children

All right, show of hands: who wants to add, to this, the fourth concern: discerning if you are called to be a priest, and then entering seminary and becoming a priest?

Clearly, such men as I describe, who would want to be priests, and who I don't doubt would be good priests, would have huge reasons to wait. And wait. And wait.

This is not hypothetical; this is precisely what happens with married men who are attracted to the vocation of deacon.

We have wonderful deacons, and I'm glad we do. And we have a good number of them. We ordain 20-30 of them every three years. That's a lot.

However, ask them: are you able to be full time like the parish priest?

No; only some of them have a parish-based job. None of them has the expectation that priests do, of the Church providing them a living. That would be a difficult promise for the Church to make to deacons--aside from the added cost--precisely because it would be so different from case to case. This deacon has no children; this one has two, but they're grown; this one has young children; this one has ten children of all ages. Notice: we've had married deacons for approximately 40 years, and this is one of many questions unresolved for the Church. When's the last time you saw any of the bishops talk publicly about how they were going to address this? Probably never!

So picture a scene: a small U-Haul trailer sitting outside the bishop's front door, labeled "thorny problems related to the permanent diaconate we don't want to deal with." It's been there 40 years. What are the odds the bishop wants you to deliver another one, only a lot bigger?

Here's something else. People often say, allowing married men to be priests will mean more vocations. I assume they are right. But I wonder how many of those new vocations will be existing deacons? Will we allow them to be considered? I don't see why not. It would make sense; they would already have some of the needed theological training, and parish experience.

So, great: we get new priests! But we have fewer deacons. It might be a trade-off we can live with, but this is not usually how the promised new vocations is presented.

There are couple more practical considerations:

> Married priests means parishes will be confronted with all the drama and complications that their married clergy are dealing with: basically, every marital and family problem there is.

This is often presented as a benefit: our priests will experience these things first hand. Aside from the fallacies implicit in that sort of thinking, let's stop and consider what this really means.

When Father and Mrs. Jones are having troubles, the parish will have a ringside seat. Imagine the fun on the grapevine! As it is, whenever a couple is pulled apart, family and friends are confronted with the question, "whose side are you on?" Now we can introduce this dynamic into the parish.

Also, consider what it will be like when the priest talks about the immorality of using contraception, and people start counting how many children he has. And, yes, that's exactly what folks will do.

Now consider all the range of parenting challenges--but lived out in a glass house. Here's an easy case study: Father and Mrs. Jones's first two children are doing fine in the Catholic school; but the third child, for whatever reason, is struggling. They decide to shift this child to a non-Catholic school.

Imagine that news getting around the parish.

I can go on--those of you who are parents know about some of the really difficult things you have faced as you raise your children. Would you really want all that to be part of parish chatter?

This is not hypothetical: this is precisely what happens with Protestant clergy.

Speaking of Protestant clergy, there is a special dynamic that happens precisely with married clergy: the question of the pastor's spouse. What's her role in the parish? Is she co-pastor? Does she chair a committee? Hold a job? To whom is she accountable?

If you have Protestant friends who have been very involved in their churches, ask them about this.

As someone said after Mass this morning--reacting, in part, to what I said in my homily--"a lot of folks haven't thought through all the implications." Exactly right.

My assessment is this: if we made that change, we would trade one set of problems for another. While we might like our new problems better, that's far from self-evident.

Finally, a theological consideration.

While it's certainly true that there's no essential barrier to a married priesthood, there are some compelling theological considerations--rooted in the Scriptures, and in the life of our Savior.

Many who advocate allowing married men to become priests simply ignore the strong witness of Scripture, and Tradition, and the Lord himself, in favor of celibacy for the sake of the Kingdom. As far as anyone knows, Jesus himself did not marry. Taking him simply as a prophet (he's more than that, of course), this is not without precedent. But insofar as he is--in his own words--the "Bridegroom," then it's exactly correct. How can Jesus marry, when his "Bride" is the Church?

When clergy, and laity who are in religious communities, embrace celibacy, they are a sign of the kingdom. If a married man is on a business trip, away from his family, and if someone were to approach him, and perhaps express interest, what does a faithful husband say? "No thanks, I'm spoken for" as he points toward his wedding ring.

That's exactly what celibate priests and religious are saying by their vow of celibacy. And they also say, "I'm waiting for Someone"--that someone is the Bridegroom.

People mistakenly think that the practice of celibacy somehow denigrates marriage--as if the practice of fasting denigrates food! Setting aside the obvious fact that Catholics deem marriage so holy, it's a sacrament, celibacy only makes sense--as a prophetic sign--precisely because of how good marriage is. No one would be impressed by a vow to avoid drinking poison. But a vow to give up something very good is impressive. Why would you give up something? As a sign that your hope is fixed on something even better.

After Mass, someone asked me this morning, aren't there priests who don't agree with you? Indeed there are. What I've just shared is my own judgment and perspective, and it's worth every penny you paid for it!

But my answer to the question posed by the headline?

I think it's extraordinarily unlikely the pope will change this discipline. If he were even to do it, he'd have to involve all the bishops. Personally, I think such an initiative would be very ill advised. If he ever calls me (you laugh; but he's doing that sort of thing, apparently), who knows? Maybe I'll tell him myself.

What does the fox say?

The Fox says, go to confession and go to Mass.

And if you're not Catholic, become one. Ask me how.

Jesus is the way, the truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Him.

The Fox has spoken.

(And if you aren't getting the cultural allusion, it's OK, just ask.)

Holy Cross: Mt. Adam's Report

It is a little known fact that the day on the liturgical calendar that marks a patron saint or patronal feast for a parish is, for that parish, a solemnity--that is to say, a feast day of the highest rank.

So, for example, last Saturday was the Feast of the Triumph of the Holy Cross. Since our parish here is Holy Cross-Immaculata, that means it's one of our two patronal feasts.

Another little known fact is that a parish has the option of celebrating such a feast on the nearest Sunday, if it falls during Ordinary Time--which this feast does. (On the other hand, the feast of the Immaculate Conception can't be moved to Sunday; and why would you?)

So, this past Sunday, that's what we did.

That meant using the prayers and readings for the Holy Cross feast day, rather than the Sunday readings and prayers. That took a little effort to get the readings out to the scheduled readers; but they managed it fine. Unfortunately, I forgot--at 11 am Mass--to tip off the folks in the pews, so they were a little puzzled with the Missallettes. Sorry, folks!

Since it was such a big day, we had incense at the Saturday evening Mass, and at 11 am. I'd like to have sung more of the prayers, but for some reason, I'm having difficulties with some of the chants since the new translation; and folks here are still getting used to the amount of chanting I do as it is. It doesn't help when I don't hit the notes right.

But here's something special we did, which seemed to have been a hit.

We have a relic of the True Cross (actually, we have two of them); and I thought this would be the right time to display the relics for veneration. So I asked the deacon to carry it in; and as it is, presumptively, the Cross itself, I didn't have a server carry a cross. Instead, the deacon walked behind the server with incense.

I incensed the relics as is usual (that is, when a priest uses incense); and then, after the dismissal--but before the closing hymn (which isn't part of Mass anyway), I offered everyone a chance to venerate the True Cross, followed by a silent blessing with the relic. Almost everyone stayed, including for the blessing, and they seemed deeply moved. 

It helped that our fine deacon gave a careful explanation both of the origins of the relics, and the reasons we treat them as probably genuine. (Not infallibly, as no claim about a particular relic is a part of the Deposit of Faith.)

While I don't know how long I'll be at Holy Cross-Immaculata, I hope this is a tradition we can maintain.

Lessons in customer service

If I ever find I haven't enough to do as a priest, maybe one of the things I'll do is become a corporate consultant in customer service. I realize many companies do pay attention to this. And--when you figure out that a company is paying attention to this, that's a company to watch; perhaps to invest in. Certainly to do business with. An example follows below.

But first, some examples of "needs improvement":

> From a visit to a bank office downtown, yesterday. I was there to pay my credit card bill, as I'd waited to long to mail it. So I gave the teller the bill and my check. He mashes some buttons on his computer, clickety-clack, click-click-click; he marks this and marks that; then, "uh oh."

"Uh oh?" I knew there was plenty of money in my account; what's wrong. I wait. Slower, less certain clicks; more paper shuffling.

Meanwhile I've got errands to run; so I ask, "What's the problem?"

No answer right away but more computer-staring and paper-fiddling.

"Is there some problem?"

He stammers a little, then holds up the bill I gave him, plus another piece of paper, and says something about how he was supposed to do something with this one, but he did it with this one.

"So, I'm paid up?"

"Oh; yeah, you can go."

Not a big deal (that's why I didn't mention the company), but--why make the customer stand there, when you don't need him to solve the problem?

> Next stop -- well, after I voted in the city primary election -- I visited the Marathon station at Victory Parkway and McMillan Street. A fill up was badly needed. I used my credit card outside, normal, normal.

Only I heard the sound I dreaded from the pump: as it passed the $49 mark, the pump slows down, down, down...and stops at $50. Dude! I just paid my credit card! Why do you stop at $50?

But I know why; because gas stations in the inner city do this now, I assume because of fraudulent card use. But when gas is north of $3.50 a gallon, that's about 13 gallons; I want to fill the tank!

The last time I just left with my tank 3/4ths full. But I thought I'd try something. I put everything back and started a new transaction. Maybe that would work?

Nope. "See the attendant." Crud; now I'd better, because for all I know, the attendant put some black mark on my credit card. So I go in. And I have fun trying to explain to the attendant the problem. I suggested maybe changing the limit outside to more than $50, since that doesn't buy much gas these days. Pleasant smiles; no sign of comprehension. (FYI, this wasn't a language problem.)

"Well, just swipe the card"--meaning here at the counter.

I said, "yes, but I want to know what the problem was out there." I wanted to see if my suspicion was correct that the machine thought I was up to something when I tried to have two transactions in a row--but maybe not."

"Sometimes it just doesn't work." OK, I accept that. So I swipe it. It doesn't work.

"How much do you need?" For the second time, I explain I'm filling up, and I need maybe 3 and a half gallons. So how can I say how much that'll cost. Frustrating: am I the only person these folks have met who is filling the tank? "I just want to fill it up--why is that so hard?"

"Well, give us the card." No, I said; that means a return trip to the counter, and--given this experience--who knows what other miscues. "Never mind; I'll buy my gas elsewhere."

So, if you're paying attention, Marathon--and Shell does the same down on Liberty--maybe do something about this policy. Because my solution is to stop buying gas at these locations.

> Learning how to give change. I could do a clinic on this one. Somewhere in the world, some dim-bulb has been teaching people, when they make change, to put the bills in the customer's hand first, and then put the change on top.

This makes no sense.

If you, the customer, holding your money in your hand this way, don't make the exact right move, what happens? That's right: whatever change was placed on top of a stack of bills will slide out of your hands. If you're in the drive-through lane, that means onto the ground outside your car. A nice donation for the restaurant, or whoever happens along.

Apparently this is a lost art, like tying a bow-tie; but I'll now explain the proper way to give change. This'll blow your mind. Ready?

Put the coins in the customer's hand first, then the bills (and receipt).

But good news: here's how we customers can solve this problem while we wait for the people who train clerks to straighten this out:

When you reach for your change, first have your palm down--and take the bills between your fingers. The clerk will, perhaps, be confused, but (from my experience) does not attempt to deposit coins on the back of your hand. Then, after taking the bills, turn hand up for coins.

Maybe that seems a small thing; maybe I'm really irked the Reds' offense hasn't shown up the last two games against the Cubs! But in any case, let's end on a high note...

> Don't lie to your customers!

The other day I called a restaurant for a reservation. The person on the phone asked for my email. I hesitated, saying, "oh, you're going to use that for marketing, aren't you? I'd rather not."

Oh no, she chirped; we won't do that. So, I gave her my email.

Well, the dinner was very good, good service; a little pricey, but I expected that.

Then guess what I found in my email box two days after my visit? You got it: a marketing email.

So--I called the restaurant and asked for the manager, and I explained my call.

*Here begins the main lesson in customer service*

"I apologize, Sir, that shouldn't have happened." He explained how it happened in a clear way. No fuzzing up the facts.

Then he explained how to make the unwanted emails go away. It was an easy fix. Good!

Then he asked for my address: "I'd like to send you something to make up for this."

A few days later, I got a straightforward letter of apology; and a $25 gift card from Maggiano's.

So I hope you see I'm mentioning the name, not to knock the place, but to give a thumbs up.

Time for lunch!

What does it cost to be a disciple of Christ? (Sunday homily)

During Lent, we talk about “giving things up” and making sacrifices.

But what today’s Gospel makes clear is, that’s not just for Lent.

Because Lent isn’t just for Lent.

The point of what we do in Lent—

denying ourselves things we like, praying more, doing more for others—

is that Lent is a school for how to be a disciple.

What did we hear our Lord say in this Gospel?

Unless we do thus-and-so, “you cannot be my disciple.”

We have some other Christian groups, or pastors, will make a point—

sometimes on billboards and on TV—

about “no expectations; just come.”

But notice, that’s not what our Lord just said!

You want to be my disciple? The bar—the standard—is here.

First, he said, “hate your family and possessions, even your own life.”

Now, he doesn’t mean “hate” in the sense of contempt or rage—

he means what he says later: completely letting go of the attachment.

I always think about the story of St. Francis of Assisi.

His family was wealthy and his father wanted him to be part of that.

Francis wanted to live simply and focus on Christ.

And finally, Francis had to stand up to his father;

and in front of the bishop and the town,

he gave up everything—

he even took off his clothes and gave them back to his father.

That’s what Jesus is talking about.

Sometimes our children have different dreams from those of their parents—

sometimes they choose a course that means less money, or less prestige;

and if they choose the religious life or the priesthood,

then it means no grandchildren!

I’m sorry to say this, but I’ve had parents admit to me,

they have discouraged their children

from considering the priesthood or religious life,

because they want grandchildren.

And a lot more will do it but not admit it.

On Labor Day, I drove up to Piqua for a baptism.

The couple were friends of mine. They were married in 2004.

Nine years later, this was their first child.

All that time they prayed and cried to have a child.

That’s how I give my parents grandchildren.

And I do it in the confessional;

and I do when I visit the sick,

and every other way I help people find life in Christ.

And my parents—who, I hope, are both in heaven—

will be with those grandchildren forever.

The Lord says, “count the cost.”

If you build a tower, or you go to war, you count the cost.

Our politicians don’t do that—and just Jesus says, it doesn’t go well.

So he says to us: first count the cost of being my disciple.

And what does it cost?

Well, it costs something to help the poor.

If we obey Christ and wait till marriage, that costs us something.

One of the treasured possessions we love to cradle in our arms

is our own self-righteous fury. “How dare that person do that!”

That is one of the hardest possessions to renounce.

But to be his disciple? Give it up.

In a lot of places—Egypt, for example—

Christians are paying a huge cost.

Their jobs, their businesses, their families, their homes,

their churches and their lives.

In Germany—Germany!—a Christian family

saw the government storm their home

and take their four children away.

Their crime? In Germany it’s illegal

to educate your children at home.

We think, Oh it can’t happen here.

But it is.

In New Mexico, the Supreme Court said to a photographer,

You must take part in a same-sex wedding,

no matter what your conscience says.

Meanwhile, the outcome of the government’s mandate,

that religious institutions and businesses

provide contraception and abortion services as part of health care

is in the hands of the federal courts.

So, one way or the other, every one of us faces the question:

What will it cost to be a disciple of Jesus Christ?

Is it a good deal? Well, we get Christ himself;

we get our sins forgiven;

we get the Holy Spirit; and we get heaven.

Sounds like a good deal.

But there is a price:

just the whole of our lives—all we are.

Give it to Christ!

Fast, pray, and tell Congress: no more war!

The Holy Father asks us all to fast and pray on Saturday, September 7 for peace in Syria. That requires making some calls:

> Call Congress at (202) 224-3121. That's the main switchboard; from there, you can ask for your Congressman and Senators by name.

If you don't know their names, you can google "who's my congressman" and "who's my senator" and you'll get the U.S. House and U.S. Senate web sites, and find what you need that way.

> Then get out your rosary and call heaven. Pray for the various people involved, including our leaders, the leaders in Syria who are already making war, and for the suffering people of Syria.

What is humility? (Sunday homily)

One of the key ideas in that first reading, which matches up 
with the episode described in the Gospel: is humility.

What is humility?

A lot of people associate humility and modesty 
with putting oneself down. 
The problem with seeing it that way 
is that there are, often enough, 
people who will gladly put you down. 

It’s no secret, isn’t it, 
that this is what plays out in some of our relationships, 
especially between men and women,
And it is a toxic combination?

Humility is not degradation, being a doormat.
One way to tell if we’re in an unhealthy relationship 
is to try and see if you can put our Lord, 
or his mother, or Saint Joseph in the picture.

If you can’t see Joseph treating Mary that way; 
or Mary treating Joseph that way; 
or Jesus speaking that way to either of them…
Maybe there’s a really obvious reason why?

Also, humility is not denying the goodness of who you and I are.

If you have a talent--
let’s say you have a nice voice for singing: 
it isn’t humility that says, “oh, I can’t sing.” 
Whatever that is, it isn’t humility. 
It might actually be more like pride. 
A few years ago, when I was up in Piqua, 
we had a parish get-together, 
and a number of folks offered to sing, or share a talent, 
as part of the entertainment. 

A little known fact about me: I’m a fan of Frank Sinatra. 
And one of my fantasies would be to belt it out like Sinatra. 

In the shower, that’s exactly what happens!
But when I got up in from of the whole parish…crash and burn!

Was it pride on my part that said, “I can do this!”? Maybe.

But the real moment of pride came after. 
It wasn’t that anyone laughed--
everyone was very kind. 
No, what galled me was that 
instead of being able to wow everyone, 
I ended up being…pretty ordinary.

Pride says, how dare they laugh at me!
Humility says, you know what--it is funny--
and I’ll laugh too!

So, you don’t have to be Sinatra to sing in our choir.
Fact is, that’s not what we’re looking for.
But we are looking for those who will simply share their gift.
There’s a prayer called the “Litany of Humility,” 
which maybe some of you have seen, or even prayed. 




And I remember the first time I looked at it, 
I was a little put off.
At first, it sounded like you were praying 
to be delivered from “being loved,” “being honored,”
And actually asking to be “forgotten” and “despised.”

But then I read it again. And here’s what it actually says:
“Deliver me, Jesus” “from the DESIRE of 
being extolled…honored…praised…” 
And again, it says, “Deliver me” from the FEAR of 
being hurt, or lied about, or forgotten.

That’s a very different thing--and that’s exactly right.

Notice what the Lord suggests we focus on, instead of our ego.
He suggests--no, scratch that--he commands! 
He commands that we look to see who is most poor, 
most powerless, most needy, 
and make sure they get a place at the table.

Some of you have noticed, haven’t you, 
how often I encourage people, especially our young people, 
to consider becoming a brother or sister?

And here’s what I often say:
Which woman, in our time, will--in a thousand years--
have made the greater difference?

Choice A: any political or sports figure you want to name.
Choice B: Blessed Mother Theresa of Calcutta.
I’m not putting down any other profession. 


But I’m pointing out that 
one of the most powerful and transformative and admired people 
who lived, in our times, 
was someone who did precisely  
what the Gospel just told us to do-- 
and very little else.

Indeed, if you end up being a doctor or actress, 
or business owner, athlete, artist, or any profession, 
why not do it in a way that puts first 
the needy who are precious to God?

And of course, I’m also pointing out that there are, 
in our midst, those who--
like Mother Theresa, like Father Damien of Hawaii--
Who won’t be really content to do anything other than 
give your life to Christ’s call. 

So don’t dismiss it. It isn’t everybody, but it might be you.
Or your son or daughter.
And parents, before you make light of it, consider this.

St. Francis of Assisi’s father tried to talk him out of it.
Same with Thomas Aquinas’ family. And many others.
Now, I’m guessing St. Francis’ father is now glad he failed! 
So imagine this: would you want to go before God 
as the parent who succeeded in talking Francis out of it?

This life is passing away. 
Christ offers what counts for eternity.
God grant us the courage to grab hold of it with both hands--
and never let go!

How are we saved? (Sunday homily)

When reading or listening to a Gospel passage like this one, 
you may notice something: 
many times, our Lord’s answer to a question 
doesn’t actually answer the question!

It starts with, “Someone asked him, Lord, will only a few be saved?”

First, he refers to a narrow gate—so that sounds like “few,” right?

But, later, he refers to people coming from east and west, north and south—
does that sound like “few”?

What our Lord was doing 
was actually answering the question that the person should have asked.

And that question wasn’t, how many will be saved, 
but rather, how to be saved.

So, how are we saved? By striving to enter the “narrow gate.”

In the Gospel of John, 
Jesus says, “I am the gate, 
and whoever enters through Me will be saved.”

We might wonder why the gate is “narrow.”
That sounds bad.
But remember why cities, in his time, had gates:
Because they also had walls.
And walls are for safety-to keep out threats.
In our day, those walls and gates are at the border.
In our Lord’s time, they were around cities.

And narrow gates mean you can see clearly who comes and goes.
Which is exactly what the Lord said elsewhere:
He is the gate, protecting the sheep; 
the sheep enter, but he keeps out the wolves.

A narrow gate doesn’t mean only few enter; 
it means you have to be patient.

It also means that while you might squeeze in,
The stuff we drag along, won’t.

This got me thinking about when you board a plane,
And people are bringing their stuff on the plane.
And they’re trying to jam what looks like a mattress 
into the overhead compartment, 
and they’re saying, “oh, it always fit before”!

If we don’t try to bring stuff, no problem with the gate.
And for heaven, that means all kinds of baggage.

A lot of folks carry a heavy load of unforgiveness.
Did you ever consider that one of the first people 
you meet in heaven might be that person 
who you say you can’t forgive?

What will you do then?

Notice what our Lord said:
“Many will attempt to enter, but won’t be strong enough.”

Well, listen up: none of us is “strong enough”!

We have got to drive out of our minds  
every last trace of the idea that any of us 
gets to heaven because we’re good enough!

We do not walk into heaven on our own!
Remember what Jesus said about the lost sheep?
How does it get home? 
He puts it on his shoulders.

Jesus is “strong enough”—and he will carry us through!
But he probably will say, 
“but leave that—and that—and especially that.”

Till now, there’s a word I haven’t uttered: hell.
Is hell real? Sounds like it is.

In the Gospel, Jesus says that people will be cast out, 
because he never knew them.
What that means is that there was never a true friendship.
Sure, they ate and drank with him—but they didn’t know Jesus, 
which is to say, they didn’t want to know him, not as he actually is.

We all love it when he says stuff we like;
And we shift around uncomfortably when he says things we don’t:
Whether it’s about money, or sex, or forgiveness, or suffering or ego.

I asked, a moment ago, what if we find in heaven a person we can’t forgive?
What are our choices at that point?
Entering heaven means letting go of that.
And if we can’t? What’s left?

The conclusion I reach is this:
No one is “sent to hell” as much as people refuse heaven.

If you’re interested, 
C.S. Lewis actually wrote about book about that, 
called The Great Divorce.
His argument is that hell is real—
and its gates are locked from the inside.

By the way, this is a good time to mention 
how we get rid of the baggage: go to confession!
The confessional is the spiritual garbage-dump.
And one way to find the power to forgive is to experience forgiveness.
The more we feel real gratitude for how much is forgiven us, the easier it is to forgive.
So again: go to confession.

One more thing about the “few” versus “many.”

Do you remember when, three years ago, 
we were preparing for the new translation of the Mass prayers?

And there was some concern about the use of “many” 
in the Eucharistic Prayer.

But as far as we know, that’s what our Lord said at the Last Supper.
That’s where he answers the question posed in today’s Gospel:
“This is the cup of my blood, 
the blood of the new and eternal covenant, 

poured out for you and for…many.

How are we saved? Jesus is the “how.”

Sabbatical

Well, the cat's out of the bag, as it were: word of my plans to take a sabbatical early next year has now reached Facebook. By now, surely the NSA has begun a file!

Here's the story...

One of the bennies of being a priest is a sabbatical every ten years. A sabbatical can be organized in many ways, because the key purpose of the sabbatical is "rest and refreshment" for a priest's ministry. Many times, priests will have a plan for study, reflection, and travel; sometimes that study can be fairly serious, or more low-key. In the Archdiocese, there is a wide leeway about that.

Since I passed my ten year anniversary in May, I'm eligible for a sabbatical; and I'm following the advice of my first pastor, who always said, "take your time"--meaning, time off. His point was that there would be plenty of occasions when events would prevent time off, so don't be embarrassed to take it when you can.

He's right. As happens to everyone, work and family obligations will crowd in on vacations and days off. So I decided to apply for a sabbatical.

The plan is to be in Europe and the Holy Land between mid-January and mid-April; I'll be back by Holy Week. There are obviously some things to plan for in the parish, particularly making sure that any help needed from me, for Lent and Holy Week planning, happen before I go.

What about the parish?

When a priest goes on sabbatical, the Archbishop appoints a temporary administrator, who will take care of routine business matters: signing checks, and making any necessary decisions that can't wait. In my first assignment as a priest, my pastor took a sabbatical, and I was in charge. It was far easier than I expected. To a great degree, this was because the pastor was well organized and had developed a good staff; and they did their jobs. What also helped was that any planning or big decisions were either handled before he left, or else waited for his return. 

It was funny, because there were those who sought me out, precisely because the boss was away, hoping I would overturn some of his decisions, or else be more sympathetic. Well, I wasn't so foolish as to fall into that trap! If it wasn't a routine matter, I'd say, "that sounds important enough that it should wait until the pastor returns." I have to admit, it amused me to witness the reaction. In several cases, the folks clearly didn't want to bring it to the pastor! But I'm sorry, that's how it had to be.

I'm very happy to tell you that Father Kyle Schnippel will serve as temporary administrator for Holy Cross-Immaculata. Father Schnippel is currently director of vocations for the Archdiocese. His ten year anniversary is next year; I hope he takes a sabbatical (once I get back)!

Father Schnippel will do a great job. He's got a cool, level head; he has some familiarity with the parish from having Mass here many times over the years, and I know he will enjoy a dip into parish ministry. And before the full intensity of Holy Week hits, I'll be back.

While on sabbatical, I don't know if I'll post much online. I haven't decided. What do you think?