Friday, August 21, 2015

About First Friday & First Saturday Devotions

I think many of us have heard of these devotions, but we may not be familiar with the whole story.

“First Fridays” are about devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Many saints have promoted devotion to the Lord Jesus’ human heart, as a way to emphasize both that the Son of God shares our very same humanity, and also his love for us. Over the centuries, sometimes an emphasis on the authority and holiness of Jesus has obscured the reality of his compassion and mercy.

In 1671, Margaret Mary Alocoque became a Visitation nun, and very soon after, she began receiving visions of the Lord. Jesus instructed her to begin offering a holy hour – this is where the idea came from! – on Thursday evenings; and to foster devotion to his Sacred Heart especially on First Fridays. He also told her that he wished for an annual feast of the Sacred Heart, which comes on the Friday after Corpus Christi. And Jesus told Saint Margaret Mary twelve promises for those who would observe nine First Fridays:

1. I will give them all of the graces necessary for their state of life.
2. I will establish peace in their homes.
3. I will comfort them in all their afflictions.
4. I will be their strength during life and above all during death.
5. I will bestow a large blessing upon all their undertakings.
6. Sinners shall find in My Heart the source and the infinite ocean of mercy.
7. Tepid souls shall grow fervent.
8. Fervent souls shall quickly mount to high perfection.
9. I will bless every place where a picture of my heart shall be set up and honored.
10. I will give to priests the gift of touching the most hardened hearts.
11. Those who shall promote this devotion shall have their names written in My Heart, never to be blotted out.
12. I promise you in the excessive mercy of My Heart that My all-powerful love will grant all to those who communicate on the First Friday in nine consecutive months the grace of final penitence; they shall not die in My disgrace nor without receiving their sacraments; My Divine Heart shall be their safe refuge in this last moment.

The requirements are: Confession, Mass and Holy Communion each First Friday – with confession coming within eight days, before or after.

Five First Saturdays’ devotion was revealed by the Virgin Mary to Sister Lucia Santo, one of the three children who received Mary’s messages at Fatima:

Behold, my daughter, my heart encircled with thorns, with which ungrateful men pierce it at every moment by their blasphemies and ingratitude. Give me consolation, you, at least; and make known on my behalf that I promise to assist at the hour of death, with the graces necessary for salvation, all who on the First Saturday of five consecutive months confess their sins, receive Holy Communion, recite five decades of the Rosary, and keep me company for fifteen minutes meditating on the mysteries of the Rosary, with the purpose of making reparation to my Immaculate Heart.

There are four elements of this devotion: first, Confession (up to 8 days before or after); second, reception of Holy Communion on the First Saturday; third, Recitation of the Rosary (5 decades); and fourth, 15 minutes’ silent meditation on one or more of the mysteries. All this is done with intention to make reparation to the heart of Mary. The communion, Rosary and meditation can take place the following Sunday “if a priest, for just cause, grants” that favor.

For more on First Saturday devotions, go here.

From Saint Remy Bulletin, August 16, AD 2015.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

We behold the God of Israel, and we eat & drink (Sunday homily)

In this fourth of five homilies talking about the Mass, 
I’m going to focus on the center of the Mass, the Eucharistic Prayer. 
I’ll be looking closely at the First Eucharistic Prayer, 
also known as the Roman Canon. 
You may want to take the missallettes out and open to page 14; 
I will refer a few times to the text, and you may want to follow along.

To save time, I’m not going to go into the other Eucharistic Prayers. 
No doubt you notice I almost always use this prayer. 
For those who are interested in the background of all that, 
I’ll have something in next week’s bulletin.

This prayer is very old; it was certainly in use in the 600s, 
and most likely, long before that. 
But we’re not sure how far back; very likely, the 300s, maybe the 200s.
Before that, we can only guess. 

Of course, the words at the center are those of Jesus himself. 
For many reasons, we can be confident 
that this part of the Mass has been constant 
since the time of the Apostles. 

When we listen to the Roman Canon, across all these centuries, 
and despite barriers of language and culture, 
we are hearing the voice of the ancient church of Rome. 
We are brought back to the time when the Mass was celebrated, 
not in churches, but in homes or at tombs underground; 
not in safety, but in fear of Roman persecution.

It might help to recall the imagery I’ve offered several times before: 
the Mass is an ascent; we are climbing up a mountain. 
When we come to this prayer, we very nearly at the summit. 
At this point we kneel.

Dr. Brant Pitre, who teaches at Notre Dame Seminary in New Orleans, 
makes the connection between the Mass 
and an episode from the Old Testament, 
when Moses and God’s People were at Mount Sinai. 
After ratifying the covenant, God directed Moses, 
and the 70 elders of the twelve tribes, to come up the mountain. 
In Exodus it says, “and they beheld the God of Israel. 
Under his feet there appeared to be sapphire tilework, 
as clear as the sky itself. 
Yet he did not lay a hand on these chosen Israelites. 
They saw God, and they ate and drank.”

We arrive here, not with Moses, but with Jesus. 
The lowly priest – me – acts in his name. 
Or, better to say, Jesus the High Priest acts, 
using me, his unworthy servant. 
You are like the elders—part of the sacrifice.

The prayer begins by acknowledging the living members of the Church, 
including especially our pope and our bishop, 
but also for all of us, still on our pilgrimage. 
Later, we’ll mention those who have “gone before us”—
that is, those who have died. 

It’s fitting we mention the Blessed Mother, Saint Joseph, 
the Apostles, and other saints. 
This is painting a scene: imagine being in heaven, 
with all the saints gathered around! 
The priest bows his head as he mentions Mary, and then Jesus. 
Isn’t that what I’d do, if they were sitting right here?
They are here! All the angels and saints are present!

We beg God to receive this prayer, this sacrifice. 
It is Jesus’ sacrifice, but also ours. 
The offerings we bring are bread and wine—
as well as our many needs and cares—
and we beg God to make them “spiritual and acceptable.”

Many people mistakenly think the Mass 
is supposed to be a “reenactment.” 
It’s not. We aren’t re-creating the Last Supper. 
The Mass began there, but it wasn’t completed there. 
In one sense, the Mass was complete on the Cross, 
when Jesus cried out, “It is finished!” 
But in another sense, the Mass is “complete” in heaven, 
where the Lamb, slain but risen from the dead, 
lives ever to make intercession for us.

We often say the Mass takes us back in time; 
and that’s true, but it’s not the whole story. 
The Mass actually takes us out of time entirely. 
It takes us to heaven!

The Mass is a great “summary” of all that God did for our salvation. 
As I mentioned the other week, 
we recall God becoming man in several points. 
We hear the prophets of old teach us, as well as the Apostles, 
and Jesus himself, in the readings. 

At this point, we behold, before our very eyes, the heart of it all: 
Jesus is the new Adam, putting right what the first Adam wrecked. 
Where Adam of old turned his back on God, 
the new Adam raises his eyes to heaven, and offers himself. 
Where the old Adam rebelled against God at a tree, 
the new Adam obeys God, even to the point of death on a tree! 
The old Adam, fearing death, sought to steal divine life, 
and bequeathed death to his family. 
The new Adam faces death, and in dying, gives divine life to us all!

This is what we witness, kneeling at the summit of God’s Mountain. 
Jesus comes to the garden, 
and says what old Adam should have said, long ago: 
“Not my will, but thine be done”! 

And so Jesus takes the bread and wine – 
which were offered in the temple, and shared in the Passover – 
and anticipating the Cross, 
he calls them his Body and Blood—and so they are!

There is no other lamb at this Passover; Jesus is the Lamb. 
On Good Friday, he offers himself; in this and every Mass, 
we are united to that moment. 

The priest lifts up the Body, and then the Blood.
Remember what Jesus foretold? 
“If I be lifted up, I will draw all to me”! 

Next comes a part of the prayer that is called “the offering.” 
You will see it at the top of page 17. 
What the priest prays at the altar 
unites us to what Jesus did on the Cross; 
and what he did with his entire life; 
and what we does in eternity as he continually intercedes for us. 

Notice this refers to Jesus’ “passion”—
meaning his suffering and death; his rising from the dead; 
and his ascension back to his heavenly throne.

Then I ask the Father to look, not at us poor sinners, 
but at the Victim—pure, holy and spotless—
who has been slain for us. 

On your behalf, I ask him to “accept” this offering, 
foreshadowed by Abel, who offered an animal from his flock; 
by Abraham, who was ready to offer his firstborn son; 
and by the priest Melchizedek, who offered bread and wine.

Last week I talked about how this part of the Mass—
and what follows—have a “private” dimension. 
Can you see, now, why I said that? 
We have come to the throne of God; 
we are beholding God, begging for his help, 
relying on the blood of the Lamb of God to plead for us. 

Obviously, this mystery of faith is often put before the world; 
we broadcast it on TV. 
And yet, what do unbelievers see? 
They see people performing an ancient ritual. 
But with the eyes of faith, what do we see?

Remember what I quoted from Exodus: 
“They beheld the God of Israel…and they ate and drank.”

WE behold the God of Israel! And we eat and drink.

Sunday, August 09, 2015

Turning toward Calvary -- and heaven (Sunday homily)

Three weeks ago, when I began this sermon series on the Mass, 
I described it as climbing a mountain—to Calvary. 
Last week, we looked at how we pause to listen to the Word of God; 
we also talked about how Scripture plays a role in the music of Mass.

Now, it turns out I stirred up some people with that. Sorry about that! 
Let me explain my purpose. 
I’m not talking about turning things upside down. 
So I am not proposing we stop using hymns. 
I’m just suggesting some additional options, 
which, by the way, we’ve used before I even got here.   

But yes, I did want to provoke some reflection. 
You and I are on a pilgrimage. 
We’re not at the Promised Land yet. 
Can we climb higher? Can we go deeper?  

At this point, we move from the first part of the Mass, 
the “Liturgy of the Word,” to the “Liturgy of the Eucharist.” 
In the early Church, people who weren’t baptized, 
confirmed Catholics would actually leave at this point of the Mass. 

Why would they leave? Think of a family. 
There are times when a family welcomes guests into its home; 
but more intimate family matters wait till the guests depart. 
When we pass into the second part of the Mass, 
we are entering a privileged moment. 

While the Mass today is entirely public, 
this part still has a private dimension: 
only those who really know, who see with the eyes of faith 
– realize the truth of it. 
Without the eyes of faith, people see, yet they don’t see. 
The mystery is hidden, despite being in full view!

So it’s fitting that we recite the Creed, 
identifying ourselves as believers who can enter this “private” moment.

And the prayers of the faithful, which come next, are also fitting here; 
because we are summarizing the prayers
we want to bring to the Sacrifice, where Jesus intercedes for us.  
But we know that many more prayers remain in our hearts.

So notice what the priest soon says: “Lift up your hearts!” 
And you respond: “We have lifted them up to the Lord.” 

I’ve mentioned this before, but I want to mention it again – 
the question of the posture of the priest at this point in the Mass. 

Many think this was something Vatican II changed; 
but it actually came after. 
And while it’s almost universal, it’s not a requirement. 

At this moment, I’m facing you, naturally, because I’m talking to you. 
But when I am at the altar in a few minutes, 
is it really you I’m addressing? 

Maybe you haven’t really thought about it. 
But at today’s Mass, pay close attention. 

Listen to the prayers I say there. 
Even if some of what I say there is directed to you, 
it’ll be clear that they are spoken not to you, but for you; 
and not to you, but to God.

Here’s what Pope Benedict said in his book, the Spirit of the Liturgy. 
When the priest faces the people, 
the priest…becomes the real point of reference for the whole liturgy.
Everything depends on him.
We have to see him, to respond to him,
to be involved in what he is doing.
His creativity sustains the whole thing.

Now, Father Amberger made a concerted effort 
to downplay this focus on the priest; and I want to continue that. 
But let me be candid about a way Father Amberger and I are different. 
He’s quieter and subdued; I’m not! 
Priests have always had different personalities. 
But don’t you see? 
When the priest faces the other way, 
he becomes, in a sense, “faceless.” 
It becomes far less about the priest!

Pope Benedict made the point that having the priest face the people 

…turned the community into a self-enclosed circle…
the common turning towards the East
was not a "celebration towards the wall";
it did not mean that the priest "had his back to the people":
the priest himself was not regarded as so important.
For just as the congregation in the synagogue
looked together toward Jerusalem,
so in the Christian liturgy
the congregation looked together "towards the Lord."

That’s the key: it’s about all of us turning together toward the Lord.

So, here’s the thing: I’m not going to make any huge change. 
But I would like to give you an opportunity 
to see what I’m talking about, and experience this. 

So how about this? On Saturday mornings, at the 8:15 am Mass, 
I will begin offering the Mass in this fashion. 
Come and see what you think. 
And please tell me what you think. 
I don’t expect everyone to like it; but you may be surprised. 
And if Pope Benedict is right, then you will experience some benefits. 

Let’s continue our climb. The readings emphasize food for the journey. 
Elijah needed strength for the journey; and in the Gospel, 
Jesus told the people that he, himself, is that food, the Bread of Life.

This is a good time to talk about how 
two different realities come together in the Mass. 
We understand that the Eucharist is food; and the Mass is a meal. 
But what can’t be lost is that it is equally a sacrifice. 

God’s People in the Old Testament had many forms of sacrifice. 
One in particular was the todah, or a sacrifice of thanksgiving. 
In this sacrifice, something would be offered in sacrifice; 
after which, the ones making the offering would eat the sacrifice. 
The best known of these was the Passover itself: 
the lamb is offered, and then consumed. 

The last line of today’s Gospel reminds us of this: 
“The Bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

This is one reason we use incense at this point; 
incense was always offered in the temple during the sacrifices. 

And the Book of Revelation mentions incense 
as a sign of our prayers rising to heaven. 
The priest incenses the bread and wine, 
but then the priest, and the people, too, are incensed. 
It isn’t just the bread and wine that are offered; we offer ourselves.

When all this has happened, the priest lifts up his eyes and—
speaking for the entire assembly—addresses the Lord God. 

It is “right and just” that this be sung, because it is so solemn. 
The prayer I’ll use today refers to the “paschal mystery”—
that means the new Passover, Jesus dying and rising for us. 
It may sound like we’re reminding God, but he already knows. 
Instead, it is we who are remembering. That’s what the Passover was.

But we also look forward. 
Notice the prayer I pray will mention “angels and archangels, 
thrones and dominions”—in other words, heaven. 

We aren’t journeying only to Calvary; but from there, to heaven! 

So it’s fitting that when the priest has prayed this prayer, 
all of us sing the Sanctus: “holy, holy…” 
It’s painted up there, over the altar. 
That’s what the prophet Isaiah heard, in the temple, 
as he was given a vision of the Lord. It is the song of the seraphim. 
I absolutely believe the angels do sing this at every Mass, 
but we never hear it; so we sing it ourselves.

Wednesday, August 05, 2015

Keeping up on the news

In a conversation the other day, a parishioner in his 20s asked me, "How do you keep up on the news? What sites do you go to?" At first, I was a little surprised by the question; but then, after thinking about it, why should I assume everyone is a news-consumer in the way I am?

So I thought I'd do a post about the more significant sites I rely on for news. Be advised! This is not an endorsement of any of these sites! I provided some notes below, to explain my choices.

The Cincinnati Enquirer -- hometown paper.
Crux -- a middle-to-liberal Catholic publication. Seems to be positioned as NCReporter without the crazy.
The Daily Beast -- liberal gossip page, run by and for dimwits. Why do I read it? I want to know what they're saying. 
The Drudge Report -- the originator of the news aggregation method. 
Instapundit  -- another aggregator, except it also includes brief commentary, which is usually very funny. The host, Glenn Reynolds, is a libertarian law professor with eclectic tastes. 
National Catholic Register -- a faithful Catholic publication, owned by EWTN. A good site, but not a large amount of news coverage.
National Catholic Reporter -- would be better termed National Heretical Reporter. Why do I read it? Two reasons. First, because they do cover a lot of stories. Second, because I want to see more than my own point of view.
National Review Online -- conservative publication, with commentary on news, politics and religion. Especially good for judicial news. 
RealClearPolitics -- disregard the name; it has pages of content on literature, science news, public policy, education, religion, history, technology, and more. Whoever runs this does an excellent job aggregating lots of straight news and opinion pieces, both left and right.
The Washington Post -- it's the Washington Post. 
The Week -- a newish publication; tends to be liberal, but has conservative content. 

Now, if anyone is keeping score, you'll notice I access material from across the spectrum. And these aren't all the sites I visit; they're just the main ones.

What do you think?

Sunday, August 02, 2015

About Scripture and music as part of Mass (Sunday homily)

As mentioned last week, in my homily for the next several weeks, 
I’m looking closely at the Holy Mass. 
This week I want to focus on the way we use Scripture at Mass, 
which goes beyond the readings.

The Mass obviously has many parts; 
and yet it is one, sustained prayer, from beginning to end.
Because this can be hard to appreciate, 
one of the principal ways we cultivate this sense of unity is with music.

And yet, I need to warn you:
what I’m going to say about music and the Mass 
may be different from what expect. 
It may even surprise you. 

I suspect a lot of us think of music at Mass 
as something that’s added to Mass.

Well, it’s true that this is often what we do—
at funerals and weddings, or on special occasions, 
folks will want to “add” this or that bit of music to the Mass—
but it’s not what we’re supposed to do!

Rather, the approach the Church intends is not to “add” music;
But rather simply to pray the Mass, sometimes in a musical form. 
In other words, singing the prayers of the Mass.

This the Roman Missal; 
it’s the book with all the prayers needed for Mass. 
This is the lectionary, which has the Scripture readings.  
The “missallettes” in the pews are abbreviated combination 
of both these books, for your convenience.

If we went through the Missal page by page, 
you’d see that every part of the Mass is intended to be sung, 
if not every time, then at least on special occasions. 
That even includes the Creed, the Eucharistic Prayer, 
and even the readings! 
By the way, in the older form of the Mass, 
this would happen at a “high” Mass: 
the readings would be chanted, not simply read.

While I will occasionally chant the Gospel, 
I doubt our readers will be doing any chanting! 
But stop and think the effect that would create, 
if everything were chanted, until you sat down for the homily.

Two things would be much clearer: first, this is one, sustained prayer. 
Second, we’re doing something really important. 
Because, after all, all that chanting is really hard – 
which is why we don’t do it all the time. 
So if we did do it, it says, “this is a big deal.”

So to repeat, we don’t so much add music to Mass; 
but rather, we simply sing the Mass. 
So where do the hymns we use at Mass fit in?

Again, this will surprise you, but it’s true: 
the guidance the Church gives us 
does not envision us singing hymns at Mass!

Let me refer to what’s called 
the General Instruction of the Roman Missal – that is, the “rulebook”:

When the people are gathered,
and as the Priest enters with the Deacon and ministers,
the Entrance Chant begins....

In the Dioceses of the United States…
there are four options for the Entrance Chant:
(1) the antiphon from the Missal
or the antiphon with its Psalm from the Graduale Romanum, 
as set to music…

Let me pause and explain two terms here: first, what’s an “antiphon”? 
That’s another word for a refrain, 
just like when we do the responsorial psalm: 
the part you sing is an antiphon.

And what is the Graduale Romanum? 
That’s just a name for a book 
of such psalms with their antiphons, set to music.

To continue:

 In the Dioceses of the United States…
there are four options for the Entrance Chant:
(1) the antiphon from the Missal
or the antiphon with its Psalm from the Graduale Romanum… 
(2) the antiphon and Psalm of the Graduale Simplex…—

That’s another such collection—

(3) a chant from another collection of Psalms and antiphons,
approved by the…Bishops…
including Psalms arranged in responsorial or metrical forms;
(4) another liturgical chant that is suited to the sacred action….

Did you notice? The first three options 
all speak of an “antiphon with its psalm”—
only the fourth option speaks of some other “chant.” 
When we use hymns, we’re choosing option 4. 

But isn’t it clear that the strong preference of the Church 
is to use psalm texts—that is, from Scripture—
as the opening chant or song?

By the way, the same guidance is provided 
when it comes to the offertory chant, 
and then the communion chant. 
Three times we have a procession to the altar, 
and all three times, the Mass envisions the people—
or perhaps just the choir—chanting a psalm; not a hymn.

Why does the Church want us to do this?

Well, what’s the difference between, say, Psalm 42, 
and “Amazing Grace”? 
The difference, of course, is that one is the Word of God. 

So why did we ever get to using hymns all the time? 
The answer involves some history.

The custom of singing hymns at Mass goes back 
at least to the late 1800s, in Germany, 
when people would sing hymns in German, 
rather than sing the chant which was in Latin. 

That was probably true elsewhere; 
and in any case, that same custom found its way to this country. 
Some of you may be old enough to remember, 
from the 1960s and before, when Mass was in Latin, 
you would still sing hymns in English.

Then, when the Second Vatican Council called for changes in the Mass, 
and the Mass was translated into English, 
guess what wasn’t translated right away?
Those collections of psalm texts I mentioned. 

It just took a while—many years—before they were translated, 
and then also set to music. 
It is just in the last ten years or so 
that these collections are easily available, in English, set to music.
It’s easy to see why something familiar simply continued.

So, what do we do with this?

Well, as I mentioned, the use of hymns isn’t “bad”—
but it’s the option of last resort. 
Carla and I have talked about this a few times, 
and I think it would be good if, over time, 
we made the attempt to move toward using the psalm texts 
that the Church encourages us to use.

If you look in your missallettes on page 215, 
you’ll see what’s called the “Entrance Antiphon”—
there it is, ready for us to sing, 
while the choir or the cantor would sing the rest. 
On page 217, it gives the “Communion Antiphon.” 
This book doesn’t provide the one for the offertory procession, 
but other resources do. 

Look, I’m not proposing a sudden or drastic change. 
But I would like to ask us to consider, in the years ahead, 
how we can move toward using psalms as the Church envisions.
That doesn’t mean we’d never use hymns, but use them less.

Let’s talk about the Scripture we just heard. 
They might seem to be about food, 
but I think they’re about something else: about trust. 

The people who grumbled in the first reading 
had witnessed so many wonders, 
and yet it didn’t take long for them to turn ugly: not much trust. 
In the Gospel, after Jesus, with a miracle, provided food for them, 
notice what they asked him: 
“What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you?” 
Again, not much trust.

As I said last week: Mass isn’t necessarily about what we like, 
but what we need. 
It’s what Christ does to save us. 
Part of that is asking us to stop, sit down, and listen. 
But to really listen is to be truly open. 
Will we let the Word of God challenge us, and change us? 

I don’t necessarily ask you to trust me; 
but I do think that for us as a part of the Body of Christ, 
the Holy Mass won’t be truly fruitful in us 
if we aren’t open and yielding. 

Recall Jesus’ parable of the farmer sowing seed. 
Some ground was rocky, some was thick with weeds; 
only a part of the field accepted the word, and it sprouted. 
What will you and I allow to sprout in our lives?

Saturday, August 01, 2015

'But Jesus never said...'

In the post from the other day about the Church's teaching on homosexual behavior, a couple of commenters raise questions about a perennial argument that comes up in various discussions about Catholic teachings that aren't universally acclaimed.

Here's one:

Younger family members like to say "the Bible says nothing about homosexuality. The word isn't even in the Bible. Jesus said nothing about homosexuality or gays."

The other is similar:

I can hear some of my more liberal Catholic friends saying that Jesus was only speaking in the context for that time in History and if He were with us today He would speak differently.

(If you go to the comments thread, you can see my answers to these questions.)

These are pretty common arguments; I imagine a lot of us have heard them. People make them sincerely; and a lot of people seem to think they're pretty good arguments.

They are very poor arguments. Here's why.

The first one is basically an argument from silence. Namely, that Jesus' silence means he either didn't care about that issue, or else...what exactly?

That's the problem with an argument from silence. What, exactly, does it really prove?

And, as stated, the first argument isn't even accurate in a meaningful sense. To be precise? Well, yes; the word homosexuality doesn't appear, because it's both an English word, and it reflects a modern way of thinking -- in terms of a homosexual identity or orientation. So, yes, there's no exact Hebrew or Greek corresponding word in the Bible. But it's totally nonsense to suppose that homosexual acts aren't talked about in the Bible.

So, to be plain, it's not a serious argument. And, if the person making that argument is a serious person, it would be fair to say that, in a charitable way. "My friend, you're smarter than that. Let's try for a more substantial argument than that..." And then, explain why the argument isn't serious.

And both arguments have another problem: the unstated premise, which needs to be brought to the surface: why does it matter what Jesus thought/said/taught about this? 

It matters to me, as a Catholic, because I believe Jesus is God incarnate. Everything stands or falls on that act of faith on my part. Does the person asking the question believe Jesus is God incarnate?

Because if Jesus is God incarnate, then...

It makes no sense to care only what the Gospels say, and set aside the rest of the Bible. If Jesus is God, then did he not -- as the second Person of the Trinity -- answer the question about homosexual behavior in what was said elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible?

And then there are those who like to say the Gospels are one thing, but Paul's writings are another. But again, this is silly. What makes you think the Gospels are reliable? Where did they come from? Jesus never wrote a word of them. You know who did? The Apostles, or those closely associated with them. So if you think the Apostle Paul is unreliable, why do you consider the Gospels reliable?

And if you say, no, Jesus is not God incarnate, then I ask:

Who cares what he thought? Why should anyone care?

The people who tend to ask these questions, don't tend to ask me; why ask a company man? But I'd invite those of you who do get asked these questions to try asking a couple in return:

> Why should I bear the burden of proof about what Jesus believed. You think he didn't object to homosexual acts? Prove it. What basis, exactly, do you have to such an extravagant supposition?

> Suppose -- for the sake of argument -- that I pointed to indisputable evidence that Jesus, did, indeed, believe X (whatever is in dispute). Will that new data change what you believe?

See, my guess is that the question is a dodge. The one asking it isn't really going to say, "wow, Jesus did say that--so I will now agree with the Catholic Church!" Instead, I think it's far more likely that the person will say, "Bummer. I don't like Jesus as much, then."

Now, I don't mean to assume everyone who asks these questions is insincere. Mostly, they aren't. But often people are not asking the right question. So why waste time and energy on the wrong one?

So my suggestion is to cut to the chase and ask: What difference will it make to you to know that Jesus did, indeed, teach ____?

In the end, the only question that matters is what Jesus asked Peter: "But who do you say that I am?"

Friday, July 31, 2015

Friday fish fry

OK, I have pictures this time!

The seminarian is with his family, so I'm cooking dinner for myself. I had some catfish fillets in the freezer, and this time, I remembered to get them out in time (barely -- I had to set them on the counter for about an hour, and they were still icy when I started cooking).

I started with a beaten egg, with a generous amount of Frank's Red Hot added. (Not enough, it turns out; not nearly enough!) And beside it? You can't make it out, but that's white corn meal, with some black pepper added. (The coffee is there for tomorrow.)


I dredged the fillets in the egg mixture; then doused them with garlic powder, before dredging them in the corn meal.


Meanwhile, I put some bacon fat in the skillet and got it bubbling. When I had the fish ready, they went into the hot fat -- but not before I sprinkled them with some paprika, just for color.



I cooked them till a light brown. At one point, I added some more fat. (That dark blotch on one fillet is a bit of the bacon that was still in the fat. It should taste great!)



Here are the finished fillets. I think I could have cooked them a bit more, but I can't stand overcooked fish. Fish is one item I tend not to get just right; either over- or undercooked.


Here's the complete meal, with some leftover noodles, and some broccoli salad the seminarian's dad made; he heard I liked it! Plus a bit of white wine, also leftover.


Verdict?

Pretty good! Indeed, I think the catfish could have taken a slight more time in the fat; but when reheated, it will be just right. The noodles -- which turned out to have some chicken and mushroom in them -- were good, and the salad -- with bacon and egg! -- very good!

"But Father! But Father!"(TM) I can imagine you saying: "After properly having fish, you ruin the penitential purpose of the meal with all that meat!"

Well, first, I think bacon fat doesn't count, although I will accept correction on this point. Yet I concede the meat in the other items does. So what's my defense?

In my experience, leftovers need to be eaten up fairly quickly. Those noodles have been in the fridge for...a few days. The salad, not so much, but it's what I had. Also, I had a brief window in which to fix dinner, and this was quick. I just finished a wedding rehearsal at 6:30 pm; and I am visiting a prayer group in the parish at 7:30 pm (hence the modest amount of wine).

Current discipline calls for us to elect our own penances. Not that there's anything wrong with these leftovers, but -- leftovers are a kind of penance. Perhaps I am rationalizing?

Belated dinner reports...

Remember a couple of weeks ago, I posted about teaching the seminarian how to make meatloaf?Well, part two came on Monday: it was his turn to fix dinner. He got the recipe from me, and using what he'd learned from me, he prepared meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob.

Verdict?

He did a good job! He made the meatloaf somewhat differently, but it was good. Fewer seasonings, less onion, but more tomato flavor. The potatoes were the way I make them--somewhat lumpy.

Then on Wednesday, I came up with something rather tasty. Here's what I did:

I started with a bunch of chicken thighs--a pack of ten. I rinsed them off, and then dredged them in a mixture of:

White flour, black pepper, red pepper, garlic powder and paprika. (I know what you're thinking: how much of each? I think it was about 2/3 cup of flour, and I was liberal with the black pepper and garlic, less so with the red pepper. Do it to your taste.)

Then I heated up some olive oil in the fry pan; and when it it was hot, I browned the thighs on both sides. I didn't intend to cook them through.

Meanwhile, I chopped up a medium onion and mixed that in with two or so cups of Arborio rice -- although I think any rice would do; that's what I had on hand, and it's what I use for risotto. I had some chicken stock in the freezer (at least, I think it was chicken stock; whatever it was, I saved it because it was delicious); so I got that out, thawed it in the microwave, and dumped that on the rice-and-onion mixture.

About this point, I realized all ten chicken thighs weren't going to fit in the one pan I was working with. No problem; I got out another pan, chopped up another onion, and added that to some rice in the second pan. But I'd used all the saved chicken stock; so I had some vegetable broth in the cupboard, and used that. I confess I don't know how much I added; I'd say, add at least a cup of liquid to the rice, or even more; it'll all soak up. (In retrospect, I think more would have worked.) Then, I arranged the chicken thighs on the rice, and salted the whole thing, as well as adding even more garlic. (I think garlic goes really well with chicken, what do you think?)  I also poured some of the oil from the pan over it all, so as not to lose the flavors in the pan.

I used a couple of large, Corning Ware casserole dishes, and covered them; then into the oven at 350 degrees for about an hour. A failure on my part to time things exactly led me to realize I couldn't eat the chicken when I intended; so after an hour or so, I turned down the oven to 200 degrees, to keep everything hot.

Verdict?

It was good! For whatever reason, I liked it even better when I had the leftovers last night.

Some things I would do differently:

> Add more liquid; chicken stock would be best; the rice was good, but a little crunchy.
> Use more red pepper and salt;
> Add parsley and chopped celery to the rice (I intended to use parsley and just forgot). Carrots could be good too, but chopped small.
> Maybe add butter, or, if I had it, some schmaltz, but who has that?

With this, we had some fresh green beans, which the seminarian cooked with boiling water, and with some butter and salt. They were delicious!

Oh, and some dry white wine. I don't remember what it was--not Chardonny. I have a wine club membership; it was something I pulled out of the fridge.

Any thoughts or suggestions?

P.S. Sorry I didn't post these reports as they happened. I'll try to do better! (And include photos!)

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

What does our Faith say about homosexuality?

(This is two recent articles from the parish bulletin)

To be honest, this isn’t something we talk about a lot. I’ve seldom addressed this in a homily, for several reasons. It’s a big subject, sometimes too big to be handled well in a Sunday sermon. And it’s a delicate issue and some parents may be uncomfortable.

Well, now we have to talk about it; and I did to some degree on Sunday. Let me say some more here. To reiterate: we believe the gift of sexual intimacy is for marriage only; and by marriage, I mean a man and a woman.

But to amplify my point, let me turn that around: we believe the gift of marriage is man+woman, because sex, by its nature, is man+woman. That is to say, God created sex for marriage as much as he created marriage for sex. This is key, because failing to get this helps explain our present mess. Our society redefined sex first, then marriage. It redefined sex by changing it from being about self-gift, commitment for life, because it’s also about children. The whole point of the “Sexual Revolution” in the last century was to toss all that aside and turn sex into an expression of self, with children a separate thought.

Let’s drill into this question of what sex really is (as opposed to what our society claims it is).

Scripture says we are made in God’s image and likeness. Think about that: just what does that mean? How are we God’s “image”? Well, consider that God is the Creator. We humans are distinct from all creation in our imitation of his creativity. We write, we make music, we build things. A builder can erect whole cities—but he must use pre-existing materials, while God creates ex nihilo—out of nothing. A writer or filmmaker can spin whole worlds in her head or on paper, or on film, but that’s as real as they can ever be. Only God can truly create.

And yet…there is but one breathtaking moment, and only one, when we ascend the divine heights and very nearly approximate what, otherwise, only God can do: create something out of nothing: and that moment is when a man and a woman, in their act of love, create a new life. The couple does it with God’s help, of course—that’s why we are called pro-creators.

Can you see how everything the Church teaches on sex and reproduction follows from this insight? This is why contraception is wrong, and in vitro fertilization, as well as any sexual expression apart from man+woman, in marriage. In these and other ways, we are another Prometheus: God gave us the privilege of participating in his divine work; we take the privilege as if it were our property, and show God the door.

Recall how people claim we hate sex or think it’s dirty or sinful. See how absurd that is? We treat sex the way we treat Mass and the sacraments; it’s because of how holy and awesome they are, that we have rules and boundaries. Like Holy Mass, sex is an encounter with the divine. We approach with reverence.

Last week, I explained the core understanding we have about sex: by its nature it’s man+woman; and the clearest indication of that by its nature, it gives life. Sexual intimacy is where our vocation as “image of God” is truly realized in a concrete and powerful way.

Let’s notice something here: the power God gave us in the gift of sexuality is tremendous. One proof of that is to see how much harm is caused when we misuse it. So many terrible problems in our society—poverty, personal problems, anger, crime and social distress—are a direct consequence of sex without love, and adults conceiving children they don’t stay to raise.

So, yes, we have a lot of rules; we have good reason to. But only one says “no” to same-sex behavior. We aren’t “picking on” gays. What Jesus asks of gay people is what he asks of everyone: chastity, which means the right use of sex in marriage, and abstinence from sex outside of marriage.

Now, in our materialistic setting, that sounds absurd: no sex? That’s impossible! It’s too much to ask. It’s certainly difficult. But Jesus often asks very difficult things of us. Remember, he said: “Unless you take up your cross and follow me, you can be my disciple.”

Let’s come at this another way. Look at all the heterosexual couples in our society. They aren’t told, no sex. So they have it so much easier, right? I talk to lots of people, and they share their trials. The pain of unhappy marriages they can’t seem to fix; the sufferings of seeing a spouse or a child in deep pain or trouble; the high demands of raising children, both emotionally and financially.

Someone might say, yes, but there are so many joys in these things too; and that’s true. And there are great joys in living chastely and purely. We don’t need to have sex to be happy.

I’ve asked myself a question you may ask: why didn’t God just say what contemporary society wants him to say: have sex all you want, just don’t hurt people? After much thought, my answer is two-fold. First, sex isn’t about self; it’s about gift. And second, it only has meaning if it is understood to be about giving life (even if that doesn’t happen every time). To say it another way: sex is such a powerful thing that it has to be self-emptying and sacrificial, or else it would destroy us. That’s why it has to be about father plus mother, bringing a child. That keeps it from becoming just what our society is turning it into: selfish, hedonistic, egotistical and a power trip.

Let me say something very hard, but true.

Two men or two women can try to achieve what male-female intimacy aims for, but it’s impossible: because there can never be the fruitfulness of a child. And let’s be candid: many get this; so they rush to adopt, or else to use technology to approximate this fruitfulness. But a same-sex couple needs an outsider to do it. Their “union” can never be “one flesh”; it can never bear a child. And that really does change everything – which is why, when heterosexuals exclude the gift of life, they commit a grave sin against God’s plan.

The Church cannot give approval to sex outside male-female intimacy because she cannot consent to deception; even if our entire culture is happy to lie all day long. And our culture is lying about the meaning of sex. The Church is being damned because we refuse to join the chorus.

What about injustice to gays?

At some point we have to acknowledge: people too often are treated badly—by Christians—because they are different. It’s better than it was when I was a boy, but it still happens. Some of that was embodied in law and other aspects of society. Without defending cruelty or bigotry, I want to encourage younger folks to realize that law and social structures of the past were aiming at reinforcing the centrality of family life, headed by a mother and father. That’s still a valid purpose, but in our times we want to find ways to do it, without unfairness. It’s easy to fault generations past; but I think we will soon find out that it’s a hard balance.

This all helps explain, I think, a lot of the anger and hurt that comes into these discussions.

And I think many people who were so eager to back a redefinition of marriage did so out of a recognition of (and maybe bad conscience about) past injustices. Without agreeing with their wrong solution—redefining marriage—let’s acknowledge those injustices, and reiterate what the Church teaches, that contempt, hatred and violence against gay people is gravely sinful.

So what’s my place in God’s Plan?

The only real happiness anyone can have in life is to find the vocation God has for you. Many times we find the road we aimed for is blocked to us, closed forever; and we are heart-broken. People seek marriage, and their marriage shipwrecks. They long for children and can’t have them. They wish they could marry, but for various reasons (not just same-sex feelings), they can’t. They aim for a career, and an accident or war injury wrecks those plans. Why, Jesus, why? Sometimes, only in the sacred precincts of our heart, where Jesus speaks, do we find the answer. He gives us a cross; we take it, and as hard as it is, we discover we are walking by his side.

The long arm of the EU...

Today, I noticed this on the "dashboard" of my blog -- i.e., what I see when I am writing a post:

European Union laws require you to give European Union visitors information about cookies used on your blog. In many cases, these laws also require you to obtain consent. 

As a courtesy, we have added a notice on your blog to explain Google's use of certain Blogger and Google cookies, including use of Google Analytics and AdSense cookies.

You are responsible for confirming this notice actually works for your blog, and that it displays. If you employ other cookies, for example by adding third party features, this notice may not work for you. Learn more about this notice and your responsibilities.

Isn't that interesting? The European Union is telling me how to run my blog, eh?

What happens if I don't obey?

Not that I object to you knowing about the "cookies" that Google and Blogger use. But I don't know that I like being bossed around by the EU.

What is the Mass? (Sunday homily)

As I promised, over the next five Sundays, 
I’m going to be looking closely at the Holy Mass. 
Each week, we’ll look at part of the Mass; 
so this week, we start at the very beginning.

In fact, let’s start before the beginning, and ask: 
what, exactly, is the Mass?
Well, let’s be clear what the Holy Mass is not…

The Mass is not the same as 
what most of our fellow Christians do on Sunday. 
I’m not in any way diminishing their devotion to Jesus. 
We Catholics can learn a thing or two 
from our Protestant and Evangelical brothers and sisters 
about their love for Scripture, their zeal, 
and how deeply converted many of them are. 

Nevertheless, what happens in the Holy Mass is unique. 
When the Protestant movement began, 
with Martin Luther and John Calvin, 
there was a decisive rejection of the Mass 
as Catholics and Orthodox Christians understand it – 
along with the priesthood. 

Now, with some Protestant churches, this is obvious; 
but if you go to an Episcopal, Lutheran or Methodist church, 
it can seem very similar. 
And someone who belongs to that church may even say, 
see, it’s all the same. 
As I go through the Mass the next few weeks, 
it’ll be clear that there is a fundamental difference. 


Also, the Mass is not something we do for God. 
Yes, it’s true that we come out of love and gratitude, 
and this is a duty we owe to God. 

But my point is, the Mass is far more about what God does for us, 
than what we do for God. 
God does not benefit from the Mass in any way. 
On the contrary, the Mass is costly to God! 
God gives himself in the most total, sacrificial way, in the Holy Mass.

Nor is the Mass something we do for each other. 
You will find, when you visit many parishes, 
the idea that Mass should be about making us feel better. 
It should be about “community.”
The music should be what we like; 
the priest should be engaging; it should be fun.

Sorry, but no. 
If those things happen, that’s a bonus. 
My goal is Jesus’ goal—to get you to heaven. 
At any moment, what helps get you there may feel good; 
or it may feel bad. 

This may surprise you, but Holy Mass is work. 
When I’ve offered three Masses on Sunday, I’m tired. 
Not that I’m complaining. It’s the most wonderful work. 
But Mass demands a lot from me, 
and I don’t just mean in a physical way. It demands my all. 

And if there’s one thing Vatican II tried to emphasize, 
it was that every baptized Catholic 
should approach Mass the exact same way. 


So you are not a spectator. I came to work; I hope you did too! 
Our work is to join in this prayer; not just with our words, 
but with our all. 
Jesus puts everything of himself into the Holy Mass, 
and he asks the same of us.

So what is the Mass? It is what God does to save us. 
It is Jesus offering himself for us. 
The Mass is Jesus; we not only meet him at the Cross 
and in the Resurrection, 
but we hear him foreshadowed in the readings; 
we hear him speak in the Gospel. 

The Mass is where Jesus invites us to join his saving work. 
Jesus pleads for sinners here; 
and he expects us to plead for each other. 

The whole drama of human salvation is played out here! 
Every soul, past, present and future, is on the line. 
What will become of the world? Of our nation? 
What about the harvest? My health? My family, my friends? 
So many people in the world are suffering, what about them? 
Can the world be saved? 

It’s all on the altar at Holy Mass.

Last week there was a fire across the street. 
I hope we’re all praying for, and reaching out to,
the folks at the Russia Inn. 
Fire departments from all around came to put out that fire, 
and they prevented it from spreading. 
But that wasn’t a foregone conclusion. 
What if they hadn’t shown up?

The world is on fire. Souls are on the line. 
Yes, Jesus can handle it himself. But he has chosen to involve us. 
He tells us: Join me in saving the world. 
Take up your cross and come with me.

You and I are God’s fire brigade, to care for the world.

In the sacristy, there is a motto on the wall: 
Priest of God, offer this Mass as if it were your first Mass, 
your last Mass, and your only Mass. 
I charge you to have the exact same mindset as you take part in Mass.

So now, let’s at least look at the beginning of Mass. 
And let me use the older form of the Mass 
to explain the opening prayers. 

In the Traditional Latin Mass, 
the priest begins at the foot of the altar. 
He and the server will pray about going “up to the altar.” 
Notice there are seven steps. Four there, three here. 
There was always the understanding that we go up to the altar, 
just as Jesus went up to Mount Calvary. 
But first the priest and the server pray the Confiteor—
“I confess to almighty God.”

In the new form of Mass, we still do this. 
This is not a substitute for going to confession. 
It actually presupposes that we do go to confession. 
The Mass is for sinners. 

Then we pray the Gloria. 
This is the prayer of sinners who have been redeemed. 
When God’s People made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, 
they would sing psalms that told of God’s victory and his salvation. 
That’s what the Gloria is. 

I could do a whole homily just on the Gloria—
but let me note a few things. 
It summarizes who Jesus is. 

It starts with the prayer of the Christmas angels. 
But then we are speaking to Jesus: 
“You take away the sins of the world, 
have mercy on us…receive our prayer.” 
Where did Jesus do that? On the Cross. 
Then it says, “You are seated at the right hand of the Father”—
that’s where he is now: “have mercy on us”—
we’re still asking him to plead for us. 

Remember my opening question, what’s the Mass?
That’s what the Mass is.

“You alone are the Holy One,” we say: 
there is no other who can save the world. 

When we do these things at the beginning of Mass, 
all this is preparation. We’re climbing up to the altar of God. 
Next week, we’ll look at the next part, 
where we sit down, like Jesus had the people sit on the grass, 
to be fed. 
We hear the Word of God, 
before we climb further, to Calvary. 

* I dropped this line after the 5 pm Mass. It's not false to say the Mass is "about community"; the problem lies in how we understand the Mass forming community. It is Jesus Christ who forms the community. The erroneous mindset I've encountered is that we form the community.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Serious Scripture Work at Franciscan

My third day at Franciscan University of Steubenville is winding down, and I can give an enthusiastic endorsement to the Applied Biblical Studies Conference. Most of the attendees are laity, but many clergy are here. Of the laity, I sense that a lot are not "church professionals," but fired-up faithful. So this mix presents a challenge for the organizers; if it is too scholarly, a lot of the laity might stay away; if, however, it's pitched too much to non-professional laity, the clergy might not come. I'd say they strike a good balance.

So what scholars are here? Well, as I write, Scott Hahn is introducing Edward Sri; earlier, we heard from Lawrence Feingold, Michael Barber, Matt Leonard, Brant Pitri, Taylor Marshall,and Jeffrey Morrow. These folks are associated with the Saint Paul Center for Biblical Theolgy and the Sacred Page website. This is good stuff.

Well, here is Dr. Sri, so I'll post this...

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

With God's Holy People in Steubenville

This week, I am attending a conference on Scripture at Franciscan University in Steubenville; two conferences, actually. Yesterday and today, I'm attending a "Journey Through Scripture" conference, which is really intended as an introduction to the Bible; then, beginning tonight, we have several days digging into Philippians. So, since the JTS program involved just an extra day, I figured I would check it out. 

There are several tracks: one on prayer, one on Mary, and others; I'm attending "the Bible and the Mass." How is it? Very good, although much is familiar. I think I am the only priest here, unless one of the brothers is undercover. Most of the folks seem to be active parishioners and some are catechists. The goal of this program is to equip laypeople to lead these bible studies in their parishes. At this point, I can give an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Good shepherds, good sheep (Sunday homily)

The readings give us a chance to reflect 
on what it means to be a shepherd.

As Catholics, we have four shepherds. 
Each parish has a pastor; our diocese has a bishop, 
and over the worldwide Church, we have Pope Francis. 
And over all that, of course, is the Lord himself. 

A lot of folks think this was a human scheme, but that’s not true. 
It was Jesus himself who chose Peter and the Apostles; 
and both Scripture and Tradition tell us that it was the Apostles 
who began appointing bishops, priests and deacons 
everywhere they went. 

Being a bishop, let alone pope, is a tough job – 
the world is full of people 
who are sure they know how they should do their job.

And sometimes am I one of them! I’ve got my suggestions. 
The pope hasn’t called yet, but if he ever does…! 
I do occasionally send the Archbishop a letter. 
He always replies politely. Once in a while, he likes my idea.

Quoting again from Canon Law, it says this about the bishops: 
“Bishops, who by divine institution succeed to the place of the Apostles 
through the Holy Spirit who has been given to them, 
are constituted pastors in the Church, 
so that they are teachers of doctrine, 
priests of sacred worship, and ministers of governance” (375).

Let’s look closer at those three tasks. 
Archbishop Schnurr is a “teacher of doctrine.” 
This is why he issued a statement recently 
about the Supreme Court decision on marriage. 
And you may remember when he took the step last year 
to spell out in more detail 
what was expected of teachers in Catholic schools. 

He is also a “priest of sacred worship.” 
While you don’t hear about this often, 
I know from direct experience 
how has given support to better practices, 
and given correction as necessary. 

And, third, he is a “minister of governance.” 
This may be where bishops take the most criticism. 

A lot of what the Archdiocese does is invisible to most of us. 
Sometimes it seems bureaucratic and tedious—and, it is. 
But it’s the same for me in this parish. 
I sit at my desk for hours every week. 
It calls to mind when I was a boy, seeing my father, 
sitting at his desk most evenings. 
He was keeping the books of his business; 
he was paying bills; he was managing the household. 

So, for example, 
Archbishop Schnurr has launched a “One Faith” initiative 
to generate increased support 
for several of the ministries of the Archdiocese. 
Every parish is being asked to take part, including us. 
You’ll be reading and hearing about this over the next few weeks. 

At some point, someone may ask you to help as a volunteer, 
you’ll be given a chance to hear the details of what the needs are; 
and then eventually, everyone will be asked 
to contribute as best you can. 
This isn’t the most popular thing the Archbishop does, 
but it is part of his responsibility as a father and a shepherd.

With all this reflection on what a shepherd does, 
we might pause to consider what the flock is supposed to do. 
How can we help our shepherds?

Well, you have certainly helped me. 
In my year here, I’ve been so happy, in great measure, 
because of how committed you are to our parish and our Faith. 
Thank you. 

And while I know you don’t hear it from the Archbishop that often, 
he has told me that he appreciates this parish, 
and this part of the diocese. 
He grew up in a farming community, 
and he loves to come up north when he can. 

The shepherd leads, and the flock follows. 
It’s not easy for him; and often, we don’t always understand. 
We might ask the Holy Spirit both to help our pope and bishops 
to live up to their calling; 
and to help us to be the ready helpers they need.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Teaching the seminarian how to cook

We have two seminarians from Saint Remy Parish, one of whom is working for the parish this summer, and living at the rectory. Among the things we planned do this summer is have some meals together -- and that I would teach him a few things about cooking. So tonight it was meatloaf.

(Sorry, no pictures, but I was focused on giving instruction.)

Meatloaf is pretty easy, and versatile -- you can tinker it with a lot of ways, tailoring it to your taste. Me? I don't have any steady recipe, but mom always used the recipe off the Quaker Oats box, and what do you know? It's available online! But I made a few adjustments: I added more onion, as well as some Parmesan cheese, and I seasoned it with some red pepper, garlic, and a little worcestershire sauce. Then I topped it all with some more of the tomato sauce, plus some Dijon mustard, which I love.

So, I had the seminarian chop the onions, while I got the other ingredients together; then I showed him how I mixed it all together, and how I put it in the Corning Ware dishes. I doubled the recipe: one for tonight and leftovers; one for the freezer.

While I put all that in the oven, I had him pick out some potatoes and scrub them and slice off any ugly parts. After waiting a bit, we put them on to boil. They got finished earlier than I expected, while the meat loaf took a little longer than planned (it's an old oven--the temperature regulator may be off). I showed him how to see if the potatoes were ready: my way is to stick them with a fork, and if they slide off, they're ready. Then I showed him how I make mashed potatoes. (Sorry, this recipe is going to be pretty rough!)

We started with six or seven red potatoes; I chopped them up with the hand mixer, then added almost a stick of butter, plus maybe two tablespoons of heavy cream, plus a generous amount of salt and pepper. All that we mixed up; I prefer to let the potatoes be a little lumpy, rather than have them turn to glue. It's not the most refined way to make mashed potatoes, but they were pretty tasty.

Well, the meat loaf wasn't ready yet, so I stuck the potatoes, still in the pan, into the oven with the cover to keep them warm. When the meat was ready, I pulled them out, and poured off the excess fat. Meanwhile, I had some frozen vegetables in the micro, and heated them up.

I know, it's all pretty simple. But that was the point. As we sat down to eat, I offered the seminarian a suggestion: "if you want, you can prepare this same meal in a couple of weeks." Of course, I'll help him; but learning to cook includes actually trying your hand.

How was it? He thought it had too much onion, I thought, not enough. I wish I'd put more of the tomato sauce on it, and more mustard. Otherwise, pretty good! The potatoes were pretty tasty.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

How the world sees us, and how God sees us (Sunday homily)

These are good readings for us to hear today! 
For us, trying to be a good Catholic, 
facing temptation, facing pressure of time, 
facing demands of work and family, worried about money…

These are good readings.

For those who wonder, why do we bother? 
Why keep all these rules? What’s the point?

These are good readings.

If you’re bothered by having to stand up for your Christian beliefs, 
having to explain them, afraid of what people will say…

These are good words from the Word of God.

We can make this simple, before we dig in.

The first reading, from the prophet Amos? 
That shows us how the world around us sees us, and often reacts: 
Get out of here, visionary! We don’t want you. 
Keep your “Word of God” to yourself!

And the second reading? That’s how God sees us. 
God has blessed us in Christ, filled us with wisdom and grace, 
lavished riches on us, and predestined us for glory!

So when you and I face our Amos moment, 
when we’re told to keep our Jesus, our morality, 
our faith to ourselves, and go somewhere else? 
Then you remember what Saint Paul told you in the second reading.

God planned for this moment—and every moment. 
God planned for you to exist. 
The Father planned for his Son to become human, 
and live and die and rise for us. 

God planned for the Church. 
Notice he called the Apostles and sent them. 
They didn’t apply for the job, 
they didn’t necessarily know what they were to do; God knew. 
The Apostles were chosen. And you were chosen.

God was thinking about you, and about me, when he created the world! 
Everyone who has ever lived, or ever will—
including everyone whose life in this world is very brief—
God planned for.

And what is the fullness, the climax, of God’s plan? 
You might say, it’s Jesus. But that’s only partly true. 
The fullness of the plan is Jesus…plus you! 
Plus me, plus us, plus everyone who is called.

When I met with folks last summer, 
many of you talked about our beautiful church. 
Notice how many images there are of saints. 
Saint Anthony in the back, 
Saint John the Baptist by the baptismal font, 
Along both walls, and across the front.

But do you know what’s wrong?
There aren’t enough! Not nearly enough.

The reason we decorate our churches with saints—
and you will sometimes find churches that seem crowded with saints—
is because we are trying to depict what Saint Paul is describing:
All the people, in all the ages, 
who have been purchased by the blood of the Lamb! 
Who have received the inheritance, who are united with Jesus Christ, 
alive in him, transformed by him, 
God’s possession, the praise of his glory!

That is the fullness of God’s Plan; 
we become all that God’s grace can bring us to be. 

Now, when Paul says God has planned everything, 
it doesn’t mean God plans all choices. We aren’t puppets on a string. 
What it does mean, however, is that nothing ever surprises God. 
We can reject God’s help in our own lives, 
but we can’t stop God from bringing about 
the transformation of the world. 
The train keeps moving, whether we get on, or stay off.

Let me also make a point about God’s grace. What is grace? 

Grace is God’s help to eternal life—
to the destiny that Saint Paul describes. 
Grace is all the uncountable ways 
we are nudged or steered toward what is good 
and away from what is evil. 

When mom says, eat your vegetables, you may not believe it, 
but that’s grace. God is working through mom to give you life. 
And when that voice in your heart says, “go to confession,” 
or “stay sober tonight,” 
or “maybe it’s time to sign off the computer,” that’s grace. 

And, although Saint Paul didn’t put it this way, 
you and I live in a world in which we are surrounded by grace. 
That’s what it means to say, 
God’s Plan brings everything toward Christ and our salvation.

So if you ever get afraid, and worry, remember: 
you live in a universe of grace! 
As a fish swims in the ocean, 
you and I are surrounded by God’s grace!

And there’s more! 
You know the saying about leading a horse to water? 
You can’t make him drink, right? That’s free will. 
God never makes us drink, 
but he’ll try to lead us there—that’s what we call “actual grace”—
grace that helps. 

And if we drink, what we drink is also grace. 
That’s the grace that changes us. We call that “sanctifying grace”: 
grace that saves; grace that transforms. That makes us saints. 
We get that grace mainly through the sacraments, 
but sometimes other ways as well.

When I say these things, I have found them to be true.
I have known those nudges; God has pushed and prodded me—
it wasn’t always welcome, sometimes I was angry, 
sometimes I just laughed—
but God was leading this horse to water.

And I can tell you, there were years—before I was a priest—
when I didn’t receive the Eucharist, 
because I was away from the Church.
And there were times I received the Eucharist conscious of sin;
When I approached the sacraments without much faith.

And I can tell you, going to confession, 
and shedding those baubles we pretend are treasure,
and then coming to receive Jesus—
that’s when you get a foretaste of what Paul described.
There is power to change in the sacraments.
They have changed me; they are changing me.

At the conference I attended this week 
on the sacrament of confession, 
one of the speakers said something that stunned me. 
God told Catherine of Siena, 
that if she saw a saint in glory, as that saint really is, 
Catherine would be tempted to worship that saint, 
because she’d think the saint was God himself.

That’s our destiny. And I don’t mean one of many,
and that’s the first-class option. 
Sainthood—union with God in heaven—is our only hope. 
The alternative is too horrible to contemplate. 
Glory is what God has for us; the alternative is hell. 
It’s a long, uphill climb, but it’s worth it, because of what we will be.

Do we think about this inheritance enough? 
This is why it is essential to have time and quiet every day 
to be with God in prayer. 

The life of the sacraments—meaning, a life of real conversion—
Is what transforms us into godlike vessels of glory, 
which is what a saint is. 

Everything Paul described is, as it were, “contained” in the sacraments. 
This is a poor image, but sort of like when we take a vitamin pill. 
We say, this has all my vitamin A, my vitamin C. 
The sacraments, when we receive them worthily, 
contain all the life we need.

Jesus sent out the Apostles on a tough mission. 
They would be treated the same as Amos of old, and far worse. 
They would have to sacrifice everything, eventually their very lives. 
But it was worth it! They were on the path to life, 
and they were to bring along as many as possible!

What will you—what will I—lay down for this life? 
What will we throw down, at the foot of the altar, 
in exchange for this life? 
Will we run to confession, eager to cast away our cherished sins, 
so that we can be made ready for this life? 
What can this world possibly offer you or me 
to compare with Jesus Christ?

Tuesday, July 07, 2015

A Dominican, a Jesuit and a Diocesan priest walk into a Hotel

I'm in Baltimore for a conference for priests, on how to be a better confessor. It's run by the Thomist Institute, and this is the fourth year. Solid speakers so far, solid content. Several hundred priests from all over.

We are having Holy Mass and prayers in the Basilica in Baltimore, which could be called our country's mother church, as Baltimore is the mother diocese. We had two talks today. The first addressed pride and humility in the priest -- because the virtues and vices of the priest are reflected in his parish. Father had a nice image of confession as an encounter with Christ's Passion that I want to return to. The second speaker developed nicely the idea of presenting friendship with Christ as the goal for the faithful. And he made me want to re read Pope St. John Paul II's Veritatis Splendor.

So--a good start!

Sunday, July 05, 2015

Powerless with God (Sunday homily)

The readings have something in common: powerlessness.

The prophet Ezekiel in the first reading 
is powerless to change the hearts of his countrymen; 
Saint Paul is powerless over his “thorn in the flesh,” 
whatever that might have been. 
And even our Lord Jesus—who is King and Lord—
seems to be powerless to awaken faith in the hearts of his hometown.

The Gospel says: “he was not able to perform any mighty deed there,
apart from curing a few sick people by laying his hands on them.”

Why was Jesus “not able”? It goes on to say:
“He was amazed at their lack of faith.”

Of course Jesus could have cured anyone he wanted. 
But Jesus did not come merely to give out physical healings. 
He came to awaken faith. And not everyone wants faith.

This brought to mind the complicated story of the Old Testament. 
Although this is an over-simplification, 
the Old Testament shows God, in effect, trying everything.

He scattered them from the city of Babel. 
Noah built the ark of safety while God sent a flood. 
He called Abraham to a fresh start in a new land and worked with him. 
When God rescued his people from slavery, 
he showed them signs of power and deliverance. 
He gave them a land where they had what they needed. 
When that didn’t work, he sent them into exile. 
Finally, the Father sent his Son.

People wonder: why doesn’t God just give us a sign—and we’ll believe. 
But he has, over and over. 
Not just in the Bible, but in all the centuries since.

If, today, the sky opened up, and God showed himself to the world, 
and spoke with thunder and lightning, telling us he exists and what he wanted…

And if Fox and CNN all broadcast it live—the whole world saw it—
what do you think would happen?

Things would change…for a while. 
But before long, it would all be back where it was.

So in a sense, God really is powerless, 
because he refuses to do the one thing he’d have to do: 
and that is to coerce our free will.

None of us wants to be powerless. It’s one of the worst things. 
Your children go the wrong way—and you can’t stop it. 
You suddenly feel a pain, and you don’t know what it is, 
or how to deal with it. 
You go to the doctor, and she doesn’t have an answer. 
You’re out of work, and you don’t know when you’ll get another job. 
You keep making the same bad decisions – about alcohol, 
or about relationships, or about the Internet or drugs – over and over.

Right now, a lot of us are feeling powerless 
over the direction of our country and our world. 
We recall in history 
how President Roosevelt declared war on the Axis Powers, 
and our parents and grandparents dug in and won the war, 
and saved the world from fascism. 
We fought a long Cold War, and saw the Berlin Wall come down. 
But now, we wonder if we ever see the defeat of Jihadist terrorists? 

Meanwhile, we’re hurt—and a lot of us are angry—
to see our government and our culture 
turning against God’s plan for marriage and family; 
we see our society going down a road to ruin—
and we wonder if we can do anything to stop it. 
It’s awful to feel powerless.

Where does this bring us? To the Cross!

Recall what happened when Jesus told Peter and the Apostles 
about his impending death. 
He said he would go to Jerusalem, suffer and die. 
And Peter said, “God forbid, Lord! 
No such thing shall ever happen to you.”

Do you remember what happened next? 
Jesus “turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! 
You are an obstacle to me. 
You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”

Why did the Lord react so harshly? 
Because Peter – without knowing it – was offering a temptation. 
A temptation to power. 

Our nation is often tempted to use power—more money, 
throw our weight around more, more war. 
In our own lives, what do we do? 
We raise our voices; we threaten; we bully. 
We use violence. We cut corners. How’s it working?

We have a really hard time accepting 
God’s plan of the Cross, rather than power. 

When Jesus was arrested, what happened? 
The Apostles scattered, and Peter denied he knew Jesus. 
Later, when the Apostles shared the message, 
what happened when they mentioned the crucifixion? 
Here’s Saint Paul’s answer, in his first letter to the Corinthians: 
“Christ crucified [is] a stumbling block to Jews 
and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are called, 
Jews and Greeks alike, 
Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.”

In the situations you and I face, whether it’s the world around us, 
our country, our family or the battle for our own soul, 
I have no other answer to give you, but this.

The first of the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous says this: 
“We admitted to ourselves that we were powerless over our addiction—
our lives had become manageable.”

The second: “We came to believe 
that only a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

And the third: “We made a decision to turn our will and our lives 
over the care of God as we understood him.”

Or to quote Saint Paul one more time: 
“the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, 
and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.”

There’s only one place I can point you, 
only one remedy anyone can offer. 
We make our way to the Cross and we fall to our knees. 
“Jesus, I am powerless over my sins! 
Jesus, I am powerless over my family. 
I am powerless over what my government is doing. 
Over what is happening in our world. My finances! 
The Internet! My health! I don’t know what to do!”

Get close to the crucified Jesus—in confession—in prayer—
in the Eucharist. That’s what we do.

Saturday, July 04, 2015

God & guns & exploding things & a cookout

My celebration of Independence Day began yesterday with a picnic at a parishioner's house. I'd been there many times over the years, back to when I was in Piqua; the family was a member of Saint Mary's then; now members of Saint Remy. It's always a great time, with lots of families, lots of children. The couple who hosts are very gracious.

I got there around 4 -- dad was just getting the gear together for some target shooting. Several other dads were there as well. Did I want to go along? Sure! I'm all for gun rights, but I don't own a gun myself; I am too absent-minded. I fired off a few rounds with several handguns, and then tried my hand with a semi-auto. At one point, I was holding the rifle for another fellow, and I thought--what a picture! Then I decided, no, probably better there's no picture...

One of the gentleman had some sort of powder -- not gunpowder -- that if you mixed it up, and put it in a plastic jar, you can shoot it and make it explode. We did that a couple of times. A very loud bang and puff of colored smoke. And for all you city folks who think this is terrible, everything was done very safely; and besides, the Founding Fathers would have heartily approved, let there be no doubt.

After that, back to the house (we were way away from the house, firing at targets set against a mound of dirt; the nearest house was probably a mile away) for dinner. The priest said grace, that's my one job here. While I don't think the hosts make a special effort of it, almost everyone seemed to be Catholic. We all talked a lot about matters of faith, and what was happening in our parishes. 

I didn't stay for the fireworks as usual; I was rather tired, so I headed home before it got dark. 

That was yesterday.

Today, before morning Mass, we had a "Patriotic Rosary," which means it included special prayers for our country. My homily emphasized the need we have to pray for our country, even while we celebrate it; God has blessed us, but there are things in our history, and our present, that God does not bless, and we pray that our country will turn back to God. After Mass, we had our usual, First Saturday Litany to our Lady. Then, after Mass, the prolife group had coffee and donuts. We had a nearly full church for Mass.

Now I have errands to run, and I hope I come up with some sort of homily before confessions and Mass this evening.