I’m going to talk to you about the Christmas Tree.
In Genesis, the first book of the Bible,
we have the story of the Garden,
and two, particular trees:
The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Bad,
and the Tree of Life.
We recall that Adam and Eve, disobeyed God,
and ate from the wrong tree:
for them, the Tree of Knowledge
became the Tree of Death.
And they were not allowed to eat from the Tree of Life.
This story, and these ideas,
have always fired the imagination of Christians,
Priests and bishops have talked about them, at Mass,
from early on.
One reason is that the Bible tells us about
yet another Tree—the Cross!
The Cross was made of wood; and they called it a tree.
The connection is this: because Adam and Eve
made a sinful choice, Jesus came as the second Adam,
and he chose the Cross—the Tree of Death—
and he made it, for us, the Tree of Life.
Do you know when Christians would hear about this?
At Mass…on Christmas Day!
What’s more, over the years, Christians made artwork,
that depicted Adam and Eve,
and the Tree, with its colorful fruit!
Around the year 1000, people in Germany,
began putting on religious plays.
And on December 24th, they would have a play
about Adam and Eve.
The main prop on stage was a tree—
a fir tree, the only tree still green in December.
There is another story about this,
and that is the story of St. Boniface.
St. Boniface went to Germany in the 600s
to proclaim Christ, and he found people
whose worship of false gods was connected to trees.
To demonstrate their gods were false,
Boniface cut down a great Oak tree
that they considered sacred.
The oak knocked down many other trees—
but a small sapling of a fir tree remained.
It’s not clear what time of year this happened,
but some claim it happened…in December.
Now, where did the decorations come from?
Remember the play I mentioned?
They decorated the tree with fruit: apples.
But because they were not only recalling
the Tree of Death—with it’s forbidden fruit—
they were also thinking of the Tree of Life—
whose fruit gave eternal life.
But they only had one tree,
because Jesus, dying on the Cross,
made the Tree of Death into the Tree of Life.
So you know what else they decorated the tree with?
Bread!
Round wafers of bread…
that looked just like what we receive at Mass:
The Holy Eucharist!
The Eucharist is the “fruit” of the Cross—
the Eucharist is the “fruit” Jesus gives us,
that enables us to live forever!
Can you picture that “Paradise Tree,” now?
Decorated with apples—
red, and maybe green and yellow?
Also decorated with round, white circles of bread?
Many years later, the plays went in the wrong direction,
and in the 1400s, the Church put a stop to them.
But, people loved the Paradise Tree;
so they started putting them up in their homes.
Over time, they added other decorations:
other fruit, nuts and candies,
and the wafers of bread became pastries.
Much later, someone invented glass ornaments,
and we still use them.
But notice even now,
we still have ornaments shaped like…fruit!
You still find food on the Tree: candy, chocolate,
garland made of popcorn and berries.
There’s one more connection to a tree,
mentioned in Scripture—
we heard about it in the Gospel:
a family Tree!
We just heard a long list of names—
the family tree that connects Abraham to Jesus.
Why do we hear that Gospel on Christmas Eve?
Because in becoming human, becoming a baby,
Jesus did two things at the same time:
He became part of our, human, family tree;
and he made it possible for us
to become part of his, supernatural family!
Through faith in Jesus Christ, when we are baptized,
we are “born again”—into a new family.
That family tree in the Gospel seemed long—
but imagine trying to list all the people
who are part of God’s Family,
because they believe in Jesus?
The list would go on…forever!
By accepting Jesus, and following Jesus,
you and I become part of that Family Tree.
God has a Tree, too—and he decorates his Tree
with all that is precious to him: each one of us!
Together with all the angels and saints,
you and I are the priceless treasures,
which Jesus gained by his dying and rising,
to give to his Father in heaven,
to decorate the heavenly Christmas Tree!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Update on various things
OK, for the last three people who read my blog, I owe some report on my doings these days...
As you know I was in Mexico. Great experience. Saw a lot of poverty but experienced a lot of faith and hope.
The first three days were in Mexico City, where I was so privileged to visit the Basilica where the miraculous image of our Lady of Guadalupe is on display. We were also able to visit some other sites in Mexico City and experience some of Mexican history and culture. Then we went south to Oaxaca: one of the three poorest states in Mexico, I was told by my hosts; if you look at a map of Mexico, the Pacific coast curves around at the bottom of Mexico. That's where I was.
This region is very mountainous, a lot like West Virginia, except very tropical. We visited several small towns in the Diocese of Puerto Escondito, as well as a bit in Huatulco, a little further down the coast.
Well, yes, it is true that it was very balmy and pleasant, and being by the ocean would not seem a hardship, while home was frozen! That said, I was not sunning myself on the beach; in fact, I only visited each beach one time for a short walk. Other than the time it took to travel from point-to-point--long enough anytime a large group of people is in motion, then worsened by the combination of many hills, many curves, and not the best roads--our time was spent visiting parishes and outlying communities, and meeting people and talking to them.
We were privileged to talk several times with Bishop Eduardo Camorra, who told us about his diocese--created six years ago--and who invited us to take part in Mass with him many times. He was extraordinarily kind and gracious, and it was reflected on the part of everyone else. He assigned one of his priests to be our shepherd and guide, Father Jaime, who was great fun and much help. He confirmed for me our intuition, that the meals that were served for us in the parishes we visited, involved real sacrifice on the part of our hosts.
Each place, we were served and well-fed, and given a chance to meet catechists and other lay leaders in the parishes. At one parish, the meal, while very good and more than enough, was nonetheless much simpler than the others. That was an index of the hardships of that very poor parish, as well as the great generosity of the people.
I stopped telling people I was pastor of two parishes, because there, a parish is more like our county, or even larger. The smallest parish included something like twenty communities, each with a chapel and a Catholic community; the distance, roads and lack of cars meant that everyone could not come to the central, parish church for Mass. The pastors told me they could get around, for Sunday Mass, in each community maybe two or three times a year. As a result, they couldn't reserve the Blessed Sacrament there, either, because the Eucharist has to be refreshed more frequently than that.
So picture that: you live in a small village, and the priest comes for Sunday Mass every four-to-six months, and in between, you can't even have the Holy Eucharist there. How blessed we are here!
You can see how important catechists are and local lay leaders who can gather folks both to learn the Faith and to pray together. You can also appreciate the threat of non-Catholic groups coming to win converts. This is a grave concern; for one reason, it creates divisions in the community. Mexico is deeply Catholic; it's as much a part of Mexico as your spine is a part of you.
Yet a curious thing about Mexico--it has a legacy of confrontation between the state and the Church. It got so bad during the 20s that priests were hunted and killed; and until not so long ago, priests weren't allowed to vote or wear clerical attire. As it is, religion is not taught in the schools, and at one time, the government forbade the Church to operate her own schools. I don't know if that is still the case. But you can see the problem.
Mexico also has a legacy of many injections of socialism, that it is slowly undoing. Example: touring Mexico City on a bus, the recorded explanation of the sights included reference to a monument celebrating the glorious expropriation of the petroleum industry. As it stands, we only saw Pemex gas stations everywhere. Mexico has--or has had--vast reserves of oil. I do not believe that a state-run monopoly gives the Mexican people the best value for that resource. Would you prefer such a thing here?
As we drove the roads, it routinely took far longer than it would here, because we have better, straighter roads. And it's not just the mountains--West Virginia has some wonderful roads, admittedly at great expense. One of the main roads was in the process of being widened to four lanes, and I commented how good that was; our host priest agreed. Yet one of our party--perhaps misunderstanding why I felt as I did, said: oh no, they shouldn't build more roads, they should just use more buses!
Well, in further-developed city and suburbs, that makes some sense. But in a rural area, where farmers have products they are desperate to sell to a larger market, and where there is a deep desire for more industry, more factories, to provide more opportunity (so said the bishop), there is no way that more buses on those terrible roads is going to do the job! Thankfully, that main road is being widened--that will help a lot in years to come, as will more good roads, if that can be accomplished.
Another experience I submit for your consideration. We visited a "co-op" in one town, where a group of 33 folks, mostly women, were working together to manufacture and sell soap and other cosmetic products. The goal is to produce products that are organic and environmentally friendly, as they put it. The project began, we were told, thanks to a Frenchwoman who provided the formulae for various cosmetic products, and helped arrange grant money and sponsorship from a non-profit group called Bio-Earth. (I just googled that without success, so I think I got the name wrong, sorry.) We were told Ms. Brodie was concerned about the destruction of some local species of turtle, and hoped that helping to create this co-op would lead to better things.
Well, I was very interested in knowing just how this worked in practice. Looking around at the facility, it was a very nice building--I wondered just how much was invested in that, but I didn't ask about that. I also noticed that no one was, that day, making any soap. It seemed to be a slow time, but having not a single person making soap concerned me. I did ask some questions of the woman showing us around--through a member of our party who translated for me.
I asked, if the 33 members of the co-op--the number is fixed, no one can be added (isn't that curious?)--work really hard, have a better year than planned, what happens to the profits--i.e., beyond the pay they earn through the year? The answer--confirmed by a followup--is that they do not receive it! Not a penny! Instead, the profits are distributed to other "projects" in the area, designed to do good things. I was told, by the one translating, "the point isn't to make people rich, but to help the environment." OK, but that suggests a model that can't be replicated very easily; and making these folks "rich" (i.e., richer--I doubt anyone is likely to become "rich" by any standard in this situation) would, to my addled mind, be very desirable, for the benefit of these workers' families and communities.
But I know what you may be thinking: if this is how they want to spend their earnings, that's their business. True. So, I asked, if the 33 folks wanted to change the business plan, to expand, or shift, their business, or simply to dissolve it, can they do that? Answer: no. The "whole community" would have to agree to that. I also asked, if a member of the co-op leaves the group, does s/he take anything with him or her? Nope--no equity in the corporation. I learned, along the way, that if the co-op has lean years, the foundation "helps out"--I assume that means with money.
So what do you make of that? Seems to me a project that appeals more to well-off folks from somewhere else, that no doubt does some good locally, but really, what they need is something that can be replicated and expanded. To be fair, I only have a part of the story.
The poverty in this part of Mexico was severe, yet it wasn't all I thought it would be. So many houses are just shacks, better ones are built from cement-blocks and corrugated steel, without glass windows. The warm temperatures and long dry spells mean you can do a lot of living outside, but still... One road we came down was dirt, and the plants on either side were coated in dust--as, I surmise, must have been the insides of many of those homes.
One such home had latrines--outhouses--out front, so that's a benefit. I never got inside, so I don't know what sort of floor the family had, nor if they had electricity or water. Often they draw water from a well; worse, from a river. As you've heard, even the municipal water is not drinkable, not even in Mexico City. Yet somehow folks bathe and keep things as clean as they can.
While visiting that home--I talked with a woman who was blind, and she and the woman and child she lived with had very little--a beggar-man came by, calling out something in Spanish. The sighted woman promptly rose, disappeared into the house, and came out with a handful of change. It looked like about a dollar's worth. She gave it to the beggar. I could have given him a $20 with no real sacrifice; I didn't do anything.
The faith is so deep and intense, perhaps too much for our tastes. People come to visit shrines, they come on foot, for days, carrying images on their backs. They arrive, and they approach on their knees. They pray intently before the Lord for the longest time, during Mass or outside it. The processions we witnessed involved great energy, devoted to joyous and raucous music and dancing, and they seemed not to tire.
There's certainly more to tell, but that will have to do for now...
As you know I was in Mexico. Great experience. Saw a lot of poverty but experienced a lot of faith and hope.
The first three days were in Mexico City, where I was so privileged to visit the Basilica where the miraculous image of our Lady of Guadalupe is on display. We were also able to visit some other sites in Mexico City and experience some of Mexican history and culture. Then we went south to Oaxaca: one of the three poorest states in Mexico, I was told by my hosts; if you look at a map of Mexico, the Pacific coast curves around at the bottom of Mexico. That's where I was.
This region is very mountainous, a lot like West Virginia, except very tropical. We visited several small towns in the Diocese of Puerto Escondito, as well as a bit in Huatulco, a little further down the coast.
Well, yes, it is true that it was very balmy and pleasant, and being by the ocean would not seem a hardship, while home was frozen! That said, I was not sunning myself on the beach; in fact, I only visited each beach one time for a short walk. Other than the time it took to travel from point-to-point--long enough anytime a large group of people is in motion, then worsened by the combination of many hills, many curves, and not the best roads--our time was spent visiting parishes and outlying communities, and meeting people and talking to them.
We were privileged to talk several times with Bishop Eduardo Camorra, who told us about his diocese--created six years ago--and who invited us to take part in Mass with him many times. He was extraordinarily kind and gracious, and it was reflected on the part of everyone else. He assigned one of his priests to be our shepherd and guide, Father Jaime, who was great fun and much help. He confirmed for me our intuition, that the meals that were served for us in the parishes we visited, involved real sacrifice on the part of our hosts.
Each place, we were served and well-fed, and given a chance to meet catechists and other lay leaders in the parishes. At one parish, the meal, while very good and more than enough, was nonetheless much simpler than the others. That was an index of the hardships of that very poor parish, as well as the great generosity of the people.
I stopped telling people I was pastor of two parishes, because there, a parish is more like our county, or even larger. The smallest parish included something like twenty communities, each with a chapel and a Catholic community; the distance, roads and lack of cars meant that everyone could not come to the central, parish church for Mass. The pastors told me they could get around, for Sunday Mass, in each community maybe two or three times a year. As a result, they couldn't reserve the Blessed Sacrament there, either, because the Eucharist has to be refreshed more frequently than that.
So picture that: you live in a small village, and the priest comes for Sunday Mass every four-to-six months, and in between, you can't even have the Holy Eucharist there. How blessed we are here!
You can see how important catechists are and local lay leaders who can gather folks both to learn the Faith and to pray together. You can also appreciate the threat of non-Catholic groups coming to win converts. This is a grave concern; for one reason, it creates divisions in the community. Mexico is deeply Catholic; it's as much a part of Mexico as your spine is a part of you.
Yet a curious thing about Mexico--it has a legacy of confrontation between the state and the Church. It got so bad during the 20s that priests were hunted and killed; and until not so long ago, priests weren't allowed to vote or wear clerical attire. As it is, religion is not taught in the schools, and at one time, the government forbade the Church to operate her own schools. I don't know if that is still the case. But you can see the problem.
Mexico also has a legacy of many injections of socialism, that it is slowly undoing. Example: touring Mexico City on a bus, the recorded explanation of the sights included reference to a monument celebrating the glorious expropriation of the petroleum industry. As it stands, we only saw Pemex gas stations everywhere. Mexico has--or has had--vast reserves of oil. I do not believe that a state-run monopoly gives the Mexican people the best value for that resource. Would you prefer such a thing here?
As we drove the roads, it routinely took far longer than it would here, because we have better, straighter roads. And it's not just the mountains--West Virginia has some wonderful roads, admittedly at great expense. One of the main roads was in the process of being widened to four lanes, and I commented how good that was; our host priest agreed. Yet one of our party--perhaps misunderstanding why I felt as I did, said: oh no, they shouldn't build more roads, they should just use more buses!
Well, in further-developed city and suburbs, that makes some sense. But in a rural area, where farmers have products they are desperate to sell to a larger market, and where there is a deep desire for more industry, more factories, to provide more opportunity (so said the bishop), there is no way that more buses on those terrible roads is going to do the job! Thankfully, that main road is being widened--that will help a lot in years to come, as will more good roads, if that can be accomplished.
Another experience I submit for your consideration. We visited a "co-op" in one town, where a group of 33 folks, mostly women, were working together to manufacture and sell soap and other cosmetic products. The goal is to produce products that are organic and environmentally friendly, as they put it. The project began, we were told, thanks to a Frenchwoman who provided the formulae for various cosmetic products, and helped arrange grant money and sponsorship from a non-profit group called Bio-Earth. (I just googled that without success, so I think I got the name wrong, sorry.) We were told Ms. Brodie was concerned about the destruction of some local species of turtle, and hoped that helping to create this co-op would lead to better things.
Well, I was very interested in knowing just how this worked in practice. Looking around at the facility, it was a very nice building--I wondered just how much was invested in that, but I didn't ask about that. I also noticed that no one was, that day, making any soap. It seemed to be a slow time, but having not a single person making soap concerned me. I did ask some questions of the woman showing us around--through a member of our party who translated for me.
I asked, if the 33 members of the co-op--the number is fixed, no one can be added (isn't that curious?)--work really hard, have a better year than planned, what happens to the profits--i.e., beyond the pay they earn through the year? The answer--confirmed by a followup--is that they do not receive it! Not a penny! Instead, the profits are distributed to other "projects" in the area, designed to do good things. I was told, by the one translating, "the point isn't to make people rich, but to help the environment." OK, but that suggests a model that can't be replicated very easily; and making these folks "rich" (i.e., richer--I doubt anyone is likely to become "rich" by any standard in this situation) would, to my addled mind, be very desirable, for the benefit of these workers' families and communities.
But I know what you may be thinking: if this is how they want to spend their earnings, that's their business. True. So, I asked, if the 33 folks wanted to change the business plan, to expand, or shift, their business, or simply to dissolve it, can they do that? Answer: no. The "whole community" would have to agree to that. I also asked, if a member of the co-op leaves the group, does s/he take anything with him or her? Nope--no equity in the corporation. I learned, along the way, that if the co-op has lean years, the foundation "helps out"--I assume that means with money.
So what do you make of that? Seems to me a project that appeals more to well-off folks from somewhere else, that no doubt does some good locally, but really, what they need is something that can be replicated and expanded. To be fair, I only have a part of the story.
The poverty in this part of Mexico was severe, yet it wasn't all I thought it would be. So many houses are just shacks, better ones are built from cement-blocks and corrugated steel, without glass windows. The warm temperatures and long dry spells mean you can do a lot of living outside, but still... One road we came down was dirt, and the plants on either side were coated in dust--as, I surmise, must have been the insides of many of those homes.
One such home had latrines--outhouses--out front, so that's a benefit. I never got inside, so I don't know what sort of floor the family had, nor if they had electricity or water. Often they draw water from a well; worse, from a river. As you've heard, even the municipal water is not drinkable, not even in Mexico City. Yet somehow folks bathe and keep things as clean as they can.
While visiting that home--I talked with a woman who was blind, and she and the woman and child she lived with had very little--a beggar-man came by, calling out something in Spanish. The sighted woman promptly rose, disappeared into the house, and came out with a handful of change. It looked like about a dollar's worth. She gave it to the beggar. I could have given him a $20 with no real sacrifice; I didn't do anything.
The faith is so deep and intense, perhaps too much for our tastes. People come to visit shrines, they come on foot, for days, carrying images on their backs. They arrive, and they approach on their knees. They pray intently before the Lord for the longest time, during Mass or outside it. The processions we witnessed involved great energy, devoted to joyous and raucous music and dancing, and they seemed not to tire.
There's certainly more to tell, but that will have to do for now...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Back...
...from Mexico, all's well, a great adventure both of travel and faith.
Alas, too much waiting for me here, so I cannot post now. But comments are re-enabled.
Sorry I couldn't post while in Mexico; the Internet was available, but I didn't bring my laptop, and in any case, I was way too busy for that in any case.
Alas, too much waiting for me here, so I cannot post now. But comments are re-enabled.
Sorry I couldn't post while in Mexico; the Internet was available, but I didn't bring my laptop, and in any case, I was way too busy for that in any case.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Comments temporarily disabled...
Sorry, no offense meant--but I'll be unable to moderate any of the comments that may show up the next two weeks; and while it's rare, sometimes something offensive shows up. I'd hate to have that happen and be left hanging for two weeks.
Thanks for all the good wishes!
Thanks for all the good wishes!
heading to Mexico
I'm flying to Mexico rather early tomorrow, joining a trip sponsored by the Archdiocese's Mission office. A group of 14, including one other priest, is heading first to Mexico City and then to Puerto Escondito in Oaxaca, Mexico. Our purpose is to get to know the folks there better, especially in Oaxaca, which is where many of the Mexican immigrants to this area come from.
I signed up for this many months ago, hesitating because of the time of year, but electing to do it because otherwise it would be a missed opportunity that might not arise for longer than I imagined. Such is how opportunities work out.
So, as you can guess, I've been running about. I'm waiting for some laundry to be finished so I have enough clerical shirts, and of course I have to remember to take my passport!
I'll be gone until about the 19th.
I signed up for this many months ago, hesitating because of the time of year, but electing to do it because otherwise it would be a missed opportunity that might not arise for longer than I imagined. Such is how opportunities work out.
So, as you can guess, I've been running about. I'm waiting for some laundry to be finished so I have enough clerical shirts, and of course I have to remember to take my passport!
I'll be gone until about the 19th.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Catching up...
Sorry folks, it's just busy.
I'll do what I can to bring you up to date...
>Sunday, the Feast of Christ the King, is one of my favorite feast days. In my homily, I explained the origins of the day--established by Pope Pius XI in 1925, amidst a rising tide of statism and totalitarianism. I told the story of the German-American priest who wrote the hymn, "To Jesus Christ Our Sovereign King," written as a heart-felt rebuttal to the darkness overtaking his German homeland about that time. I also cited the oppression of the Church in Mexico about that time--where, when you said, "Viva Christo Rey!" it was right before you heard the crack of the rifle at your execution.
Then I talked about the challenges we face today; citing how when we exercised our rights and had an impact on abortion funding in the health-care bill, enraged members of Congress threatened the Church for daring to speak up. And I cited how the city of Washington, D.C., is preparing to redefine marriage, and compel everyone to go along with that, and the Archdiocese of Washington said, not so fast--we won't be able to provide social services the city currently pays us to provide. And that provoked vitriol from the powerful Washington Post. And I cited the member of Congress who calls us "bigots" for insisting marriage is man-woman.
I talked about what our Lord said in the Gospel--all who live in the truth hear my voice--but many today respond as Pilate did: "what is truth?" can we know it? The Lord will return--and it is our job to bring as many as possible to faith, so they receive his coming with joy, not dread. Who will share the truth with those hungry for it? That is our mission.
We lead others to Christ the King by making him king in our own lives. This is why many have an image of the Lord, a crucifix or the Sacred Heart, in their homes--declaring him king in that home. When we say grace in restaurants, our sign of the cross is a powerful witness. When we receive the Eucharist at Mass, he makes our hearts his throne, King in our own lives. Viva Christo Rey!
>I'm planning to go out of town in December, between the 8th and18th--I'm joining an Archdiocesan-sponsored trip to Mexico--so I have things to take care of before I go. One of which is scheduling meetings with staff, for an annual review. Remember, I'm an employer. It's good to do, I enjoy it, but it takes time and effort.
For example, a variety of things conspired today to require me to postpone an appointment for today, to tomorrow.
Oh, and I have things to do regarding the trip...all the usual things.
>Another project--we have a 24-hour chapel, with perpetual exposition of the Holy Eucharist--and I've been putting together a plan for some time to install new carpeting and some fresh paint. We have a group of volunteers to do it, led by a young man doing this for his Eagle Scout badge, and we finally got everything in place to go ahead. That will happen next week, from Dec. 1 to the 8th. So, today, I had to scramble to get the word out and get some stuff together for the bulletin. One of our active parishioners gave me a good suggestion, requiring, however, a change in plans--so that was today. Why today? Well, the bulletins have to be assembled tomorrow, due to Thanksgiving.
>Tonight, our parish liturgy commissions met for the third time. I started this recently, in response to requests and also because the time seemed right. Our plan borrows from the basic, Cursillo model: prayer, study, action. So the two commissions meet together, pray the Liturgy of the Hours together; then we study Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy from the Second Vatican Council; and down the road, after we've been well grounded in the Church's teaching and tradition, we will get to action. For example, I've been explaining to the folks about the new translation of the Mass coming down the pike.
That finished up at 8 pm; I checked in with the parochial vicar, covered some things, and then sat down to dinner--some leftover pork chops and some ramen noodles (cheap! easy! tasty!).
I'll do what I can to bring you up to date...
>Sunday, the Feast of Christ the King, is one of my favorite feast days. In my homily, I explained the origins of the day--established by Pope Pius XI in 1925, amidst a rising tide of statism and totalitarianism. I told the story of the German-American priest who wrote the hymn, "To Jesus Christ Our Sovereign King," written as a heart-felt rebuttal to the darkness overtaking his German homeland about that time. I also cited the oppression of the Church in Mexico about that time--where, when you said, "Viva Christo Rey!" it was right before you heard the crack of the rifle at your execution.
Then I talked about the challenges we face today; citing how when we exercised our rights and had an impact on abortion funding in the health-care bill, enraged members of Congress threatened the Church for daring to speak up. And I cited how the city of Washington, D.C., is preparing to redefine marriage, and compel everyone to go along with that, and the Archdiocese of Washington said, not so fast--we won't be able to provide social services the city currently pays us to provide. And that provoked vitriol from the powerful Washington Post. And I cited the member of Congress who calls us "bigots" for insisting marriage is man-woman.
I talked about what our Lord said in the Gospel--all who live in the truth hear my voice--but many today respond as Pilate did: "what is truth?" can we know it? The Lord will return--and it is our job to bring as many as possible to faith, so they receive his coming with joy, not dread. Who will share the truth with those hungry for it? That is our mission.
We lead others to Christ the King by making him king in our own lives. This is why many have an image of the Lord, a crucifix or the Sacred Heart, in their homes--declaring him king in that home. When we say grace in restaurants, our sign of the cross is a powerful witness. When we receive the Eucharist at Mass, he makes our hearts his throne, King in our own lives. Viva Christo Rey!
>I'm planning to go out of town in December, between the 8th and18th--I'm joining an Archdiocesan-sponsored trip to Mexico--so I have things to take care of before I go. One of which is scheduling meetings with staff, for an annual review. Remember, I'm an employer. It's good to do, I enjoy it, but it takes time and effort.
For example, a variety of things conspired today to require me to postpone an appointment for today, to tomorrow.
Oh, and I have things to do regarding the trip...all the usual things.
>Another project--we have a 24-hour chapel, with perpetual exposition of the Holy Eucharist--and I've been putting together a plan for some time to install new carpeting and some fresh paint. We have a group of volunteers to do it, led by a young man doing this for his Eagle Scout badge, and we finally got everything in place to go ahead. That will happen next week, from Dec. 1 to the 8th. So, today, I had to scramble to get the word out and get some stuff together for the bulletin. One of our active parishioners gave me a good suggestion, requiring, however, a change in plans--so that was today. Why today? Well, the bulletins have to be assembled tomorrow, due to Thanksgiving.
>Tonight, our parish liturgy commissions met for the third time. I started this recently, in response to requests and also because the time seemed right. Our plan borrows from the basic, Cursillo model: prayer, study, action. So the two commissions meet together, pray the Liturgy of the Hours together; then we study Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy from the Second Vatican Council; and down the road, after we've been well grounded in the Church's teaching and tradition, we will get to action. For example, I've been explaining to the folks about the new translation of the Mass coming down the pike.
That finished up at 8 pm; I checked in with the parochial vicar, covered some things, and then sat down to dinner--some leftover pork chops and some ramen noodles (cheap! easy! tasty!).
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
'Just enough...until the Lord sends rain' (Sunday homily)
(From notes)
In the first reading, the prophet Elijah asks for "a bit of bread"--
and when the widow hesitates, he promises
that her store "shall not run dry until the day when the Lord sends rain."
The text suggests that the promise is not that her supplies would overflow--
but that there would be just enough each day; until the rains come.
We might chose to see this passage symbolically--
with the rain as the Holy Spirit falling on the earth to bring life--revival.
We certainly need that.
We live in strange times, in which things we would have taken for granted
are under constant assault.
Who would have thought it would be necessary to vote to protect the institution of marriage;
and on Tuesday, the state of Maine did just that, by a close margin.
Father Tom and I were in Columbus on Thursday and Friday,
along with all the bishops of the state, and 700 priests from the whole state.
The U.S. bishops are preparing a letter on marriage,
and we were there to reflect on it and to prepare for when it is issued.
We heard some bad news about the state of things, and hopeful news.
On our drive back home, we talked about
how we could best use what we heard and talked about to help couples.
And I would ask you--tell us, what can we do to help you?
Whatever little bit you may have to offer, please share it with us. We want to help.
These are strange times. The faith of many seems so weak,
as people sometimes drift off and we wonder why.
We need rain; we need revival!
How will that come? Our prayers--our faith--offered for revival.
You may feel you haven't much to offer, but put it in, all the same.
If we continue to see this passage as symbolic,
we might see the woman as the Church, and the son as us.
It is here that we come, and we find enough to get us through.
In the back of church is a bit of bread. It's not very fancy;
we could get nicer, fancier bread at Panera, or make it ourselves--but that isn't the point.
The Lord takes just a handful, and transforms it into himself.
And it is enough! Enough to sustain us, day by day: "give us this day our daily Bread."
That's why we come here. We find what we need here.
And we put in what we have, while we pray for rain.
In the first reading, the prophet Elijah asks for "a bit of bread"--
and when the widow hesitates, he promises
that her store "shall not run dry until the day when the Lord sends rain."
The text suggests that the promise is not that her supplies would overflow--
but that there would be just enough each day; until the rains come.
We might chose to see this passage symbolically--
with the rain as the Holy Spirit falling on the earth to bring life--revival.
We certainly need that.
We live in strange times, in which things we would have taken for granted
are under constant assault.
Who would have thought it would be necessary to vote to protect the institution of marriage;
and on Tuesday, the state of Maine did just that, by a close margin.
Father Tom and I were in Columbus on Thursday and Friday,
along with all the bishops of the state, and 700 priests from the whole state.
The U.S. bishops are preparing a letter on marriage,
and we were there to reflect on it and to prepare for when it is issued.
We heard some bad news about the state of things, and hopeful news.
On our drive back home, we talked about
how we could best use what we heard and talked about to help couples.
And I would ask you--tell us, what can we do to help you?
Whatever little bit you may have to offer, please share it with us. We want to help.
These are strange times. The faith of many seems so weak,
as people sometimes drift off and we wonder why.
We need rain; we need revival!
How will that come? Our prayers--our faith--offered for revival.
You may feel you haven't much to offer, but put it in, all the same.
If we continue to see this passage as symbolic,
we might see the woman as the Church, and the son as us.
It is here that we come, and we find enough to get us through.
In the back of church is a bit of bread. It's not very fancy;
we could get nicer, fancier bread at Panera, or make it ourselves--but that isn't the point.
The Lord takes just a handful, and transforms it into himself.
And it is enough! Enough to sustain us, day by day: "give us this day our daily Bread."
That's why we come here. We find what we need here.
And we put in what we have, while we pray for rain.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
I'm sure you've heard about the lovely songs schools have taught the children to sing to our President. Since it's so popular to do these days, I thought of some additional lyrics they could sing:
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
Barack Hussein Obama
He’s the Leader, he’s divine
And everyone should get in line
Or give them reeducation time!
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
Barack Hussein Obama
Let the gummint take the lead
And provide for you your every need
Free to you, cuz the rich we’ll bleed!
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
Barack Hussein Obama
Grammies looking a little wan
Here’s a counselor to help you plan
It’s patriotic, don’t you understand?
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
Belated biretta-tip to Instapundit
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
Barack Hussein Obama
He’s the Leader, he’s divine
And everyone should get in line
Or give them reeducation time!
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
Barack Hussein Obama
Let the gummint take the lead
And provide for you your every need
Free to you, cuz the rich we’ll bleed!
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
Barack Hussein Obama
Grammies looking a little wan
Here’s a counselor to help you plan
It’s patriotic, don’t you understand?
Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!
Belated biretta-tip to Instapundit
Monday, November 02, 2009
Reason #1,378...
not to take sharing your faith with your children for granted illustrated here.
(If you read closely, you'll see that both are Catholic...)
(If you read closely, you'll see that both are Catholic...)
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Other happenings on Omnium Sanctorum
I just ducked into the balcony of St. Mary Church for the second half of the Mass offered by our parochial vicar. I wanted to be there before the Liturgy of the Eucharist began, because our junior high choir was providing music at Sunday Mass for the first time. Our music director, who also teaches in the school, and I have been wanting to do this for some time--to have our schoolchildren form choirs and provide music as part of Mass regularly throughout the year. We of course want our schoolchildren to learn the importance of music as part of Mass, but we also hope this will reinforce the importance of Sunday Mass for all our families (it is a sad reality that some families will send their children to Catholic school but not attend Sunday Mass).
They did well--they sung the standard, Gregorian Sanctus and Agnus Dei--using the simplest setting that the bishops recommend be introduced into every parish; they led us in "Be Not Afraid" as a communion hymn and "For all the Saints" as a closing hymn. After communion they sang a more contemporary piece--the name of which I do not know--that is a meditation on the Lord's Prayer. It is a very nice piece and they did it well. After the final hymn, they sang a more rousing piece--again, I don't know the name, but if someone from our music program visits here, can you give that information in the comments?
These two contemporary pieces were well chosen and well done--and they belie the notion that we must choose either ancient or modern. The issue is not that modern or contemporary has no place, but rather, the right sort of music that is appropriate for the liturgy, and turns our hearts and minds not inward, but upward and forward--to the Lord who saves us. They did well!
Our vicar, Father Tom, also wore a new, brilliant vestment which was generously donated by the St. Mary Altar Society. I hope to have a photo of the vestment, as soon as I get someone to take a picture of me (or Father Tom) in it. The chasuble, stole and chalice veil were blessed--by me--right before 9 am Mass, and then I used them for the first time.
I obtained the vestment from Saint Bede Studio, after scanning the web for companies to have make a vestment for us. My goal was something a little different--and I was intrigued when I saw a style of chasuble on the St. Bede blog that was worn by St. Philip Neri, St. Charles Borromeo and St. Ignatius Loyola. If you go here, you'll see a post about "a priest from Ohio"--could that be me?--ordering a vestment remarkably similar to the one I obtained!
Later today, I'll stop by a picnic organized by some of our families, including the aforementioned music director and family. The gathering is notable for one feature--it's all our families with four or more children! With great thanks to God, we have a number of families who are--as I like to put it--doing their best to repopulate Western Civilization. It is tremendously encouraging to me and to all of us, and I look forward to stopping by.
Still later, the youth group will have a gathering, starting in the basement of the rectory-office at St. Boniface, focusing on the saints--and as part of that, we'll have a procession to the chapel for solemn Mass--the idea is to recall the catacombs experience of the early Church. After Mass, we'll have a bonfire and 'smores--which allegedly came down from the early Church, but I cannot find a citation for that just now...
They did well--they sung the standard, Gregorian Sanctus and Agnus Dei--using the simplest setting that the bishops recommend be introduced into every parish; they led us in "Be Not Afraid" as a communion hymn and "For all the Saints" as a closing hymn. After communion they sang a more contemporary piece--the name of which I do not know--that is a meditation on the Lord's Prayer. It is a very nice piece and they did it well. After the final hymn, they sang a more rousing piece--again, I don't know the name, but if someone from our music program visits here, can you give that information in the comments?
These two contemporary pieces were well chosen and well done--and they belie the notion that we must choose either ancient or modern. The issue is not that modern or contemporary has no place, but rather, the right sort of music that is appropriate for the liturgy, and turns our hearts and minds not inward, but upward and forward--to the Lord who saves us. They did well!
Our vicar, Father Tom, also wore a new, brilliant vestment which was generously donated by the St. Mary Altar Society. I hope to have a photo of the vestment, as soon as I get someone to take a picture of me (or Father Tom) in it. The chasuble, stole and chalice veil were blessed--by me--right before 9 am Mass, and then I used them for the first time.
I obtained the vestment from Saint Bede Studio, after scanning the web for companies to have make a vestment for us. My goal was something a little different--and I was intrigued when I saw a style of chasuble on the St. Bede blog that was worn by St. Philip Neri, St. Charles Borromeo and St. Ignatius Loyola. If you go here, you'll see a post about "a priest from Ohio"--could that be me?--ordering a vestment remarkably similar to the one I obtained!
Later today, I'll stop by a picnic organized by some of our families, including the aforementioned music director and family. The gathering is notable for one feature--it's all our families with four or more children! With great thanks to God, we have a number of families who are--as I like to put it--doing their best to repopulate Western Civilization. It is tremendously encouraging to me and to all of us, and I look forward to stopping by.
Still later, the youth group will have a gathering, starting in the basement of the rectory-office at St. Boniface, focusing on the saints--and as part of that, we'll have a procession to the chapel for solemn Mass--the idea is to recall the catacombs experience of the early Church. After Mass, we'll have a bonfire and 'smores--which allegedly came down from the early Church, but I cannot find a citation for that just now...
'The saints are the health of the world' (All Saints homily)
(I will recount my homily as best I can from memory, I had no notes.)
As it happens, we might call today "Health Sunday"--because I have a couple of items to share with you concerning our health--and this seems the best way to do it.
First. Given the flu season, there are many with concerns, and after talking to Father Tom and Father Ang, we wanted to offer the following precautions:
1) Since shaking hands is a very effective way to spread germs, please don't feel you have to shake hands at the sign of peace. This is a symbolic sign of the peace Christ gives us. If you are a little under the weather, or you aren't so sure about the nice person next to you, you don't have to shake hands--maybe a head-nod or a wave instead.
2) If you are feeling a little under the weather, and you don't come to Mass because you don't want to spread it, that's not a sin, that's being very considerate. If you know of anyone who isn't coming to Mass and would like to receive holy communion, call the parish office so we can do that.
3) If you came to Mass and you feel a little under the weather, you don't have to drink from the cup. We receive all of Jesus in the Eucharist, whether we receive the host or the cup. Not drinking from the cup when you're a little germ-y or cough-y is very considerate of others. If there is anyone for whom this creates a problem, please let me know after Mass.
4) We are so grateful for those who help distribute the Eucharist at Mass--and I would just suggest that they may want to get some hand-sanitizer and use it just before they come forward.
Second health item. This is something Archbishop Pilarczyk wants me to bring to your attention. We are all aware of Congress debating health-care legislation that will affect all of us. And for some time, the bishops have been raising the concern that whatever legislation is passed, it not include funding to promote or pay for abortions, among other concerns.
Unfortunately, thus far Congress has not heeded that concern--so the bills now under consideration would use our tax money to promote abortion. In your bulletins today is this orange handout (hold up handout)--it has other information on the back, so look at both sides--and it provides all the information you need. Also, it provides a way you and I can contact Congress right away to voice our views. As Catholics and as citizens, we have the right--and the duty--to speak up; and things are moving fast, so don't wait, we need to act now.
Now, what does all that about health have to do with the saints? I thought about that; and I realized: the saints are the health of the world. Everyone in this world who has the Holy Spirit active in his or her life, following the grace of Christ--that means all of us, but the saints especially, who do so in heroic ways--this is essential for the health of the world. Consider for a moment: what if, at midnight, everyone who followed the Lord ceased to be in the world? What would happen? What would the world be like? No one to be a peacemaker; no one to offer reconciliation in response to anger; no one to lead others in a life of discipline and holiness.
I don't want to think about that world, and thankfully, we won't find out--because the world is filled with Christians, and the grace of Christ is at work through us all--and the world needs us!
Who can forget when Mother Theresa won the Nobel Prize, and stood before the world, and said it was a terrible poverty to destroy children in abortion? What a difference St. Damien of Molokai, John Paul, Maximilian Kolbe, and so many others, have made in the world!
Now, there's another thing. How many saints are present, right here? I don't mean the saints who are present with us spiritually at Mass--I mean you! I know what you're thinking, "I'm not a saint!" But when you were baptized, you became a saint. As I tell the parents and godparents, that's the easy part; the hard part is staying a saint. That's why their task is so important.
But how blessed we are that God doesn't just give us one shot--and if we mess up after baptism, too bad, hope you have an asbestos suit for the afterlife! No! God gives us every possible help to persevere. We are made saints in baptism, and if we mess up, we can renew the newness of baptism in the sacrament of confession.
What if I told you that, if you stepped into the box back there, when you came out, all debts would be gone? I suspect some of us wouldn't wait for Mass to end--you'd be back there! Wouldn't that be wonderful? That's what happens in confession--the debt of sin, wiped away! How wonderful!
Above all, the Lord gives us the Eucharist--where we are united to the One who will take us to heaven. Through the Eucharist, we are joined to him--and as long as we hold onto him, we have nothing to fear, because he is taking us to heaven.
We are called to be saints. If we make it to heaven, that's what we'll be; there's no economy class in heaven! We will all be saints.
Think of those who run marathons. I don't run marathons, in case you haven't figured that out! But I've seen it done! What happens? The men and women who are running, maybe after 10, or 15 or so miles, they get tired, they flag, they are running down. And what do those who have finished the race do? They are standing there, saying, "come on! you can do it! you can make it! keep coming, keep running, don't give up, go, go go!"
That's what the saints are doing for us. They are cheering us on from heaven, supporting us with their prayers--they want us to make it! So that what the first reading from Revelation described is fulfilled: a number, too great to count, of all those who have been washed clean in the Blood of the Lamb, and who have overcome, are gathered together.
That's us! That's our hope.
As it happens, we might call today "Health Sunday"--because I have a couple of items to share with you concerning our health--and this seems the best way to do it.
First. Given the flu season, there are many with concerns, and after talking to Father Tom and Father Ang, we wanted to offer the following precautions:
1) Since shaking hands is a very effective way to spread germs, please don't feel you have to shake hands at the sign of peace. This is a symbolic sign of the peace Christ gives us. If you are a little under the weather, or you aren't so sure about the nice person next to you, you don't have to shake hands--maybe a head-nod or a wave instead.
2) If you are feeling a little under the weather, and you don't come to Mass because you don't want to spread it, that's not a sin, that's being very considerate. If you know of anyone who isn't coming to Mass and would like to receive holy communion, call the parish office so we can do that.
3) If you came to Mass and you feel a little under the weather, you don't have to drink from the cup. We receive all of Jesus in the Eucharist, whether we receive the host or the cup. Not drinking from the cup when you're a little germ-y or cough-y is very considerate of others. If there is anyone for whom this creates a problem, please let me know after Mass.
4) We are so grateful for those who help distribute the Eucharist at Mass--and I would just suggest that they may want to get some hand-sanitizer and use it just before they come forward.
Second health item. This is something Archbishop Pilarczyk wants me to bring to your attention. We are all aware of Congress debating health-care legislation that will affect all of us. And for some time, the bishops have been raising the concern that whatever legislation is passed, it not include funding to promote or pay for abortions, among other concerns.
Unfortunately, thus far Congress has not heeded that concern--so the bills now under consideration would use our tax money to promote abortion. In your bulletins today is this orange handout (hold up handout)--it has other information on the back, so look at both sides--and it provides all the information you need. Also, it provides a way you and I can contact Congress right away to voice our views. As Catholics and as citizens, we have the right--and the duty--to speak up; and things are moving fast, so don't wait, we need to act now.
Now, what does all that about health have to do with the saints? I thought about that; and I realized: the saints are the health of the world. Everyone in this world who has the Holy Spirit active in his or her life, following the grace of Christ--that means all of us, but the saints especially, who do so in heroic ways--this is essential for the health of the world. Consider for a moment: what if, at midnight, everyone who followed the Lord ceased to be in the world? What would happen? What would the world be like? No one to be a peacemaker; no one to offer reconciliation in response to anger; no one to lead others in a life of discipline and holiness.
I don't want to think about that world, and thankfully, we won't find out--because the world is filled with Christians, and the grace of Christ is at work through us all--and the world needs us!
Who can forget when Mother Theresa won the Nobel Prize, and stood before the world, and said it was a terrible poverty to destroy children in abortion? What a difference St. Damien of Molokai, John Paul, Maximilian Kolbe, and so many others, have made in the world!
Now, there's another thing. How many saints are present, right here? I don't mean the saints who are present with us spiritually at Mass--I mean you! I know what you're thinking, "I'm not a saint!" But when you were baptized, you became a saint. As I tell the parents and godparents, that's the easy part; the hard part is staying a saint. That's why their task is so important.
But how blessed we are that God doesn't just give us one shot--and if we mess up after baptism, too bad, hope you have an asbestos suit for the afterlife! No! God gives us every possible help to persevere. We are made saints in baptism, and if we mess up, we can renew the newness of baptism in the sacrament of confession.
What if I told you that, if you stepped into the box back there, when you came out, all debts would be gone? I suspect some of us wouldn't wait for Mass to end--you'd be back there! Wouldn't that be wonderful? That's what happens in confession--the debt of sin, wiped away! How wonderful!
Above all, the Lord gives us the Eucharist--where we are united to the One who will take us to heaven. Through the Eucharist, we are joined to him--and as long as we hold onto him, we have nothing to fear, because he is taking us to heaven.
We are called to be saints. If we make it to heaven, that's what we'll be; there's no economy class in heaven! We will all be saints.
Think of those who run marathons. I don't run marathons, in case you haven't figured that out! But I've seen it done! What happens? The men and women who are running, maybe after 10, or 15 or so miles, they get tired, they flag, they are running down. And what do those who have finished the race do? They are standing there, saying, "come on! you can do it! you can make it! keep coming, keep running, don't give up, go, go go!"
That's what the saints are doing for us. They are cheering us on from heaven, supporting us with their prayers--they want us to make it! So that what the first reading from Revelation described is fulfilled: a number, too great to count, of all those who have been washed clean in the Blood of the Lamb, and who have overcome, are gathered together.
That's us! That's our hope.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
What else happened today?
Today was--for St. Boniface only--a very special day: we marked the anniversary of the dedication of St. Boniface Church, October 26, 1865. By Church law, this anniversary is for every parish a solemnity, of very high rank; thus, it can be transferred to a nearby Sunday, provided it is Ordinary Time.
So that is what we do, in each parish, each year. (St. Mary has its anniversary in June.)
What made it a little more special is that, for the past few years, St. Boniface has undergone some improvements. We had a bunch of repair and maintenance issues when I arrived, and the parish and I put together a list of projects, and we raised the money needed to get them done. Now we're working through them. And in the past year, some of those have been very noticeable: the stained-glass windows are in process of being restored, the exterior had some important work done, and some other projects not as noticeable.
So, it seemed like a good time to take note of some of that, and thank all who helped: so we had a Parish Brunch, after the 10:30 am Mass, to which all were invited, especially those who helped in the "Rebuild St. Boniface" fundraising effort. We made sure those who were out of town got an invitation mailed to them. And then, after the brunch, I gave a tour to anyone who wasn't up-to-speed on the projects, or had questions.
My homily for this Mass was different, because the readings were different. The readings all emphasize the sanctification of both the house of God, and the people of God--the twin themes of all the readings and prayers for the anniversary of the dedication of a church. My homily recalled the visit of Archbishop Purcell in 1865, and what an arduous journey that must have been in his day; and what an act of faith on the part of a small group of families, with limited resources, at a time when anti-Catholic bigotry was significant. I pointed out that about that same time, an anti-Catholic mob had burnt Sidney's Catholic church to the ground!
The Gospel was about Zacchaeus, short of stature, eager to see the Lord, and the Lord singled him out and said, I need to stay in your house today. And I pointed out that all the readings I'd chosen (although I hadn't noticed this when I chose them) talked about outsiders: the first reading, from Isaiah, talked about non-Jews being drawn to God's house; and Ephesians talked about being strangers no longer. And the reason God wanted this house of St. Boniface built was to bring in the outsiders, to make them "insiders"--part of his household. And we've been doing that all these years, but our mission remains the same.
Also, just as Jesus said to Zacchaeus, I need to stay in your house--he asks us to provide this house for him--he needs to be here. And from the first time the Holy Mass was offered in this church, Jesus has been in our house! What a thing to say! Yet it's true, for every Catholic church in the world! Jesus is in our house!
So when we wonder about our times, and we feel discouraged because of the economy, and we fear for the future--maybe we hear about the Mayan calendar and wonder if the world is going to end in 2012!--we might remember the act of faith of those who first built this house, and all that has happened since; and we might just remind ourselves: Jesus is in our house!
The task described by the readings--of bringing in the outsiders--is still ours today. Who will invite them? We will. Where will they sit? Right beside us. And what will we tell them, to get them to come? "Jesus is in our house!"
So that is what we do, in each parish, each year. (St. Mary has its anniversary in June.)
What made it a little more special is that, for the past few years, St. Boniface has undergone some improvements. We had a bunch of repair and maintenance issues when I arrived, and the parish and I put together a list of projects, and we raised the money needed to get them done. Now we're working through them. And in the past year, some of those have been very noticeable: the stained-glass windows are in process of being restored, the exterior had some important work done, and some other projects not as noticeable.
So, it seemed like a good time to take note of some of that, and thank all who helped: so we had a Parish Brunch, after the 10:30 am Mass, to which all were invited, especially those who helped in the "Rebuild St. Boniface" fundraising effort. We made sure those who were out of town got an invitation mailed to them. And then, after the brunch, I gave a tour to anyone who wasn't up-to-speed on the projects, or had questions.
My homily for this Mass was different, because the readings were different. The readings all emphasize the sanctification of both the house of God, and the people of God--the twin themes of all the readings and prayers for the anniversary of the dedication of a church. My homily recalled the visit of Archbishop Purcell in 1865, and what an arduous journey that must have been in his day; and what an act of faith on the part of a small group of families, with limited resources, at a time when anti-Catholic bigotry was significant. I pointed out that about that same time, an anti-Catholic mob had burnt Sidney's Catholic church to the ground!
The Gospel was about Zacchaeus, short of stature, eager to see the Lord, and the Lord singled him out and said, I need to stay in your house today. And I pointed out that all the readings I'd chosen (although I hadn't noticed this when I chose them) talked about outsiders: the first reading, from Isaiah, talked about non-Jews being drawn to God's house; and Ephesians talked about being strangers no longer. And the reason God wanted this house of St. Boniface built was to bring in the outsiders, to make them "insiders"--part of his household. And we've been doing that all these years, but our mission remains the same.
Also, just as Jesus said to Zacchaeus, I need to stay in your house--he asks us to provide this house for him--he needs to be here. And from the first time the Holy Mass was offered in this church, Jesus has been in our house! What a thing to say! Yet it's true, for every Catholic church in the world! Jesus is in our house!
So when we wonder about our times, and we feel discouraged because of the economy, and we fear for the future--maybe we hear about the Mayan calendar and wonder if the world is going to end in 2012!--we might remember the act of faith of those who first built this house, and all that has happened since; and we might just remind ourselves: Jesus is in our house!
The task described by the readings--of bringing in the outsiders--is still ours today. Who will invite them? We will. Where will they sit? Right beside us. And what will we tell them, to get them to come? "Jesus is in our house!"
True Joy (Sunday homily)
(From memory of what my now-misplaced notes said...)
The first reading and the psalm describe joy--
specifically, the joy God's People felt
when they were allowed to return from exile to their homeland.
As I reflected on the readings, I found myself thinking about
what things give us cause for joy?
Some things that are more permanent, others that are transitory--
such as a Buckeye's win: enjoy it while it lasts!
And I also found myself thinking about the moments I get to witness that joy, in you!
A week ago Saturday, we had a wedding--
and I got to see the joy in the face of the couple just as they gave their vows:
I get to see them the first instant they are married!
Then, some time later, I see their joy again when they return with a child to be baptized.
And I think about the joy of our second-graders,
when they first receive the sacrament of reconciliation;
they may not be able to explain fully what it means,
but you can see they experience real joy.
And then, of course, when they come for their first communion.
Even our 8th graders--they often want to keep cool, not show any emotion, but--
when they come before the Archbishop, and receive the sacrament of confirmation,
some of the hardest cases are grinning like kids on Christmas day!
These are all experiences of the Holy Spirit, of course--
but even these supernatural experiences of joy don't always last.
They can fade, whether because of spiritual inertia, or laziness,
or sin, or the busy-ness of life.
I remember the day of my own ordination as a priest--and what a joy that was.
But I have to admit, when I find my own joy isn't up where it had been,
it's pretty often because I need to get to confession,
or I need to stir up my prayer life, or look at how my priorities may be skewed.
The true cause for joy is not anything we receive, but the One who gives them.
That's what we saw in the Gospel. Bartimaeus received what he asked for--
and the Lord said, you can go your way;
and yet Bartimaeus didn't do that, he followed the Lord.
Because he came to see--once his eyes were opened--
that it was the Lord that he really wanted.
The question the Lord asked Bartimaeus, he asks us:
"What do you wish me to do for you?"
The first reading and the psalm describe joy--
specifically, the joy God's People felt
when they were allowed to return from exile to their homeland.
As I reflected on the readings, I found myself thinking about
what things give us cause for joy?
Some things that are more permanent, others that are transitory--
such as a Buckeye's win: enjoy it while it lasts!
And I also found myself thinking about the moments I get to witness that joy, in you!
A week ago Saturday, we had a wedding--
and I got to see the joy in the face of the couple just as they gave their vows:
I get to see them the first instant they are married!
Then, some time later, I see their joy again when they return with a child to be baptized.
And I think about the joy of our second-graders,
when they first receive the sacrament of reconciliation;
they may not be able to explain fully what it means,
but you can see they experience real joy.
And then, of course, when they come for their first communion.
Even our 8th graders--they often want to keep cool, not show any emotion, but--
when they come before the Archbishop, and receive the sacrament of confirmation,
some of the hardest cases are grinning like kids on Christmas day!
These are all experiences of the Holy Spirit, of course--
but even these supernatural experiences of joy don't always last.
They can fade, whether because of spiritual inertia, or laziness,
or sin, or the busy-ness of life.
I remember the day of my own ordination as a priest--and what a joy that was.
But I have to admit, when I find my own joy isn't up where it had been,
it's pretty often because I need to get to confession,
or I need to stir up my prayer life, or look at how my priorities may be skewed.
The true cause for joy is not anything we receive, but the One who gives them.
That's what we saw in the Gospel. Bartimaeus received what he asked for--
and the Lord said, you can go your way;
and yet Bartimaeus didn't do that, he followed the Lord.
Because he came to see--once his eyes were opened--
that it was the Lord that he really wanted.
The question the Lord asked Bartimaeus, he asks us:
"What do you wish me to do for you?"
Monday, October 19, 2009
Sunday homily: the power and beauty in suffering
For the second weekend in a row, I delivered my Sunday homily from a mental outline rather than a written text or page of notes, so...it's very hard to reconstruct my homily for you here. Perhaps if anyone heard my homily cares to recount what you heard? That might be interesting!
I began with the curiosity of our approach to suffering--we seem to embrace it, and that may be hard to explain to others, even to ourselves. Why do we do this?
Well, we do this of course because of what our Lord taught. But my next point was to describe how I, in reflecting on this, was led to recall the last years, and particularly the last days, of Pope John Paul II. Recall how he went from being so hale and strong, and gradually his body weakened, his back stooped, his appearance was contorted, until he could no longer walk or lift his arms, and in the end, he could no longer speak. Recall how there were those who said he should resign and retire, because he couldn't carry out his duties as Vicar of Christ! Instead, the late holy father understood quite well--far better than they it seems--how to represent Christ!
His last years and last days were his most powerful homily: demonstrating that life is worth living, and is beautiful, even amidst great suffering. I also talked about how we see this in so many people we love, who do the same in their own lives; how I saw that in my parents who, each in turn, faced their own decline and death with courage and faith.
Along the way, I recalled the saying my mother had, which often annoyed me as a child: "offer it up." Sometimes it served to confront me with the triviality of my claimed "sufferings"; but it also revealed a powerful truth about our Faith: that God has taken what otherwise would have no value, and transformed it--from death to life.
If God had not done this--if he had not embraced the cross and made it the path to salvation--then it would mean that for all the wonderful things we could tell the world about Christ, when it came to the thing that unites all humanity, all experience, when it comes to the trials and sufferings and persecutions that all endure, we--Christ--would having nothing to say to humanity.
Instead, by choosing the cross as the path of our redemption, God has placed himself at the very center of human experience. God has made the hard and difficult reality of the human condition central to his plan of salvation. He has turned death to life.
Also, God proposes for us a kind of exchange: bring our crosses, our trials, to Christ, and exchange them for his cross. By doing so, he takes our trials and suffering as his own--and we receive life! This is what happens at Mass: we are able to place, as it were, all our pain and difficulties on the altar, with the bread and wine; and Christ, who acts through the Mass, particularly through the priest, will offer it all, along with his own body and blood, as the sacrifice that takes away the sins of the world. Do you realize what that means? Our little, ordinary, seemingly meaningless trials and difficulties actually become part of saving the world!
That exchange is also what happens in receiving the Eucharist--we receive his Body and Blood. We give him our suffering and crosses; and he gives us life.
I began with the curiosity of our approach to suffering--we seem to embrace it, and that may be hard to explain to others, even to ourselves. Why do we do this?
Well, we do this of course because of what our Lord taught. But my next point was to describe how I, in reflecting on this, was led to recall the last years, and particularly the last days, of Pope John Paul II. Recall how he went from being so hale and strong, and gradually his body weakened, his back stooped, his appearance was contorted, until he could no longer walk or lift his arms, and in the end, he could no longer speak. Recall how there were those who said he should resign and retire, because he couldn't carry out his duties as Vicar of Christ! Instead, the late holy father understood quite well--far better than they it seems--how to represent Christ!
His last years and last days were his most powerful homily: demonstrating that life is worth living, and is beautiful, even amidst great suffering. I also talked about how we see this in so many people we love, who do the same in their own lives; how I saw that in my parents who, each in turn, faced their own decline and death with courage and faith.
Along the way, I recalled the saying my mother had, which often annoyed me as a child: "offer it up." Sometimes it served to confront me with the triviality of my claimed "sufferings"; but it also revealed a powerful truth about our Faith: that God has taken what otherwise would have no value, and transformed it--from death to life.
If God had not done this--if he had not embraced the cross and made it the path to salvation--then it would mean that for all the wonderful things we could tell the world about Christ, when it came to the thing that unites all humanity, all experience, when it comes to the trials and sufferings and persecutions that all endure, we--Christ--would having nothing to say to humanity.
Instead, by choosing the cross as the path of our redemption, God has placed himself at the very center of human experience. God has made the hard and difficult reality of the human condition central to his plan of salvation. He has turned death to life.
Also, God proposes for us a kind of exchange: bring our crosses, our trials, to Christ, and exchange them for his cross. By doing so, he takes our trials and suffering as his own--and we receive life! This is what happens at Mass: we are able to place, as it were, all our pain and difficulties on the altar, with the bread and wine; and Christ, who acts through the Mass, particularly through the priest, will offer it all, along with his own body and blood, as the sacrifice that takes away the sins of the world. Do you realize what that means? Our little, ordinary, seemingly meaningless trials and difficulties actually become part of saving the world!
That exchange is also what happens in receiving the Eucharist--we receive his Body and Blood. We give him our suffering and crosses; and he gives us life.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Some of the day's events...
Arrived at the office a little after 9 am, breakfast (coffee and two donuts) in hand. Big pile of mail awaiting me, some that I didn't finish opening on Friday. Also had emails to deal with.
Needed to call several folks on one parish finance committee; we had planned a meeting for this evening, at 5:30; however, too many couldn't make it, and the agenda was light, so the chairwoman recommended letting it go; we'll circulate a monthly report to all concerned via email. Involved several calls and some emails.
Plowed through the email inbox, responding to each in turn. Some phone calls came in, or I made some, based on what I found there. That's how a "few" emails can take a couple of hours to get through.
Checked in with everyone in the office about various items. The retired priest stopped by, we had a couple of things to discuss--another one I remembered only after he left.
He was returning the proposed Mass schedules for November and December--I write up the schedule, and send it around to the other priests for comments or changes. It includes: every weekday and weekend Mass; weddings; other special Masses; confessions for school children; nursing home Masses (four times each month, usually on Thursday--but in November, we had to move two of them around due to other events).
When I prepare this schedule, here are things I take into consideration--and which make it complicated: I attempt to "rotate" the three priests through all the Masses. I try to make sure I'm at both parishes each weekend--yet sometimes that doesn't happen, it didn't this past weekend. In consideration of the other priests' age and/or health, I don't have them take two Masses back-to-back; I attempt to line us up with special requests from families ("That will be our 50th Anniversary, can you be there, Father?") or with special observances taking part in Mass (blessing our catechists). It takes longer than you might imagine.
Exchanged some emails with a committee chairman about some parish business; had a phone call with another. That took time.
Advised the altar society about a new vestment they wanted to help provide for the parish, by sending along a picture we'd gotten from the fellow who designed it. It's due to arrive any day.
Spent some time looking at issues regarding the interior of St. Boniface--it needs painting, plus we raised money for new pews, and there are related concerns worth dealing with, all at one time. So I had some bids from two pew manufacturers to look at; also, I had a phone call with the artist who is preparing a concept for what the interior will look like. We have a meeting of that committee next week.
Was getting really hungry, so I went out for lunch around 4 pm, came right back. Sister, who has these crazy ideas about food and thinks french fries and hamburgers are bad for me! (She clearly has not taken to heart the wisdom of Woody Allen's "Sleeper"), looked in to see what I brought back. She was diplomatic as always. Thankfully, she doesn't know I ate the fries on the way back, she only saw the burger and the Diet Coke.
Cleared a few items off my desk, moved some others around. Don't laugh, you do it too!
I'll try to get a bit more work to do before a meeting tonight at 7 pm, then home I hope by 8:30 pm.
Needed to call several folks on one parish finance committee; we had planned a meeting for this evening, at 5:30; however, too many couldn't make it, and the agenda was light, so the chairwoman recommended letting it go; we'll circulate a monthly report to all concerned via email. Involved several calls and some emails.
Plowed through the email inbox, responding to each in turn. Some phone calls came in, or I made some, based on what I found there. That's how a "few" emails can take a couple of hours to get through.
Checked in with everyone in the office about various items. The retired priest stopped by, we had a couple of things to discuss--another one I remembered only after he left.
He was returning the proposed Mass schedules for November and December--I write up the schedule, and send it around to the other priests for comments or changes. It includes: every weekday and weekend Mass; weddings; other special Masses; confessions for school children; nursing home Masses (four times each month, usually on Thursday--but in November, we had to move two of them around due to other events).
When I prepare this schedule, here are things I take into consideration--and which make it complicated: I attempt to "rotate" the three priests through all the Masses. I try to make sure I'm at both parishes each weekend--yet sometimes that doesn't happen, it didn't this past weekend. In consideration of the other priests' age and/or health, I don't have them take two Masses back-to-back; I attempt to line us up with special requests from families ("That will be our 50th Anniversary, can you be there, Father?") or with special observances taking part in Mass (blessing our catechists). It takes longer than you might imagine.
Exchanged some emails with a committee chairman about some parish business; had a phone call with another. That took time.
Advised the altar society about a new vestment they wanted to help provide for the parish, by sending along a picture we'd gotten from the fellow who designed it. It's due to arrive any day.
Spent some time looking at issues regarding the interior of St. Boniface--it needs painting, plus we raised money for new pews, and there are related concerns worth dealing with, all at one time. So I had some bids from two pew manufacturers to look at; also, I had a phone call with the artist who is preparing a concept for what the interior will look like. We have a meeting of that committee next week.
Was getting really hungry, so I went out for lunch around 4 pm, came right back. Sister, who has these crazy ideas about food and thinks french fries and hamburgers are bad for me! (She clearly has not taken to heart the wisdom of Woody Allen's "Sleeper"), looked in to see what I brought back. She was diplomatic as always. Thankfully, she doesn't know I ate the fries on the way back, she only saw the burger and the Diet Coke.
Cleared a few items off my desk, moved some others around. Don't laugh, you do it too!
I'll try to get a bit more work to do before a meeting tonight at 7 pm, then home I hope by 8:30 pm.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Monday, October 05, 2009
My Sunday...
A glimpse into my Sunday...
The other priests had the early Masses (7 and 9), so I was able to sleep in; naturally, I woke up before 6:30 am! So I got up, went to get some coffee--oops, out of coffee and I meant to buy some, and forgot! So I jumped in the car and drove over to my friend Tim's place (Tim Horton's). They are thinking of opening a drive-through lane just for me, I hear.
OK, back home, prayed, read some news on the Internet...just before 10 am, I stopped in the cafeteria at St. Mary, because they were going to have coffee-and-donuts after 9 am Mass; but as I had 10:30 am at St. Boniface, my opportunity to catch folks was brief. I caught the end of the "breaking open the word" session--that's a group of folks who are preparing to enter the church at Easter, and it leaves Mass after the homily to reflect more on the Scriptures. I didn't see anyone else before I headed over to St. B.
After 10:30 am, it was back to St. Mary for Noon Mass. After that Mass, we had the anointing of the sick for those who wished; we do this every month, after either the 4 pm Mass or the Noon Mass.
Then, I ducked inside my house for a quick lunch--a couple of mettwursts cooked in the micro, and a diet 7-up. Then I met up with a group headed to Troy for the annual Life Chain. We prayed silently on the streets of Troy (the county seat) for an hour.
OK, back to the parish around 3:30. I watched some of the Bengals-Browns game, but had to go around 4, to stop by a parishioner's house to bless it. I couldn't find the paper, where I'd written down her name, address and number--and of course, I couldn't remember any of it! Meanwhile, the Bengals failed to end the game in regulation time, so it went to OT, and I'm thinking, end it before I have to go! After waiting as long as I dared, I had to run to the office, where I was pretty sure I had the info I needed.
Sure enough, it was in an email--so I called the parishioner, and headed over there. They rented the house out, and a prior tenant had just vacated, so they wanted me to bless it before they re-rented it. I apologized for being late, and for not being able to stay long, because next up was helping at St. Boniface bingo at 5 pm. We ask families with children in the school to work a certain number of hours at bingo, so I signed myself up for the same.
Well, I was kind of tired, and around 6:30 pm, I headed home. They had good help thankfully. I did stop in on the high school group for a few minutes. They were watching some movie, but I cannot tell you the name. Once home, I watched a movie I think--the third edition of the Pirates of the Carribbean series, which made absolutely no sense to me--but it was diverting.
Oh, and somewhere in there, I traded some phone calls with a funeral home about a funeral Wednesday, and with a parishioner who meets with the family to help plan.
That was a bit busier than the usual Sunday for me; but not moreso than for a lot of priests, as I have two priests who help.
The other priests had the early Masses (7 and 9), so I was able to sleep in; naturally, I woke up before 6:30 am! So I got up, went to get some coffee--oops, out of coffee and I meant to buy some, and forgot! So I jumped in the car and drove over to my friend Tim's place (Tim Horton's). They are thinking of opening a drive-through lane just for me, I hear.
OK, back home, prayed, read some news on the Internet...just before 10 am, I stopped in the cafeteria at St. Mary, because they were going to have coffee-and-donuts after 9 am Mass; but as I had 10:30 am at St. Boniface, my opportunity to catch folks was brief. I caught the end of the "breaking open the word" session--that's a group of folks who are preparing to enter the church at Easter, and it leaves Mass after the homily to reflect more on the Scriptures. I didn't see anyone else before I headed over to St. B.
After 10:30 am, it was back to St. Mary for Noon Mass. After that Mass, we had the anointing of the sick for those who wished; we do this every month, after either the 4 pm Mass or the Noon Mass.
Then, I ducked inside my house for a quick lunch--a couple of mettwursts cooked in the micro, and a diet 7-up. Then I met up with a group headed to Troy for the annual Life Chain. We prayed silently on the streets of Troy (the county seat) for an hour.
OK, back to the parish around 3:30. I watched some of the Bengals-Browns game, but had to go around 4, to stop by a parishioner's house to bless it. I couldn't find the paper, where I'd written down her name, address and number--and of course, I couldn't remember any of it! Meanwhile, the Bengals failed to end the game in regulation time, so it went to OT, and I'm thinking, end it before I have to go! After waiting as long as I dared, I had to run to the office, where I was pretty sure I had the info I needed.
Sure enough, it was in an email--so I called the parishioner, and headed over there. They rented the house out, and a prior tenant had just vacated, so they wanted me to bless it before they re-rented it. I apologized for being late, and for not being able to stay long, because next up was helping at St. Boniface bingo at 5 pm. We ask families with children in the school to work a certain number of hours at bingo, so I signed myself up for the same.
Well, I was kind of tired, and around 6:30 pm, I headed home. They had good help thankfully. I did stop in on the high school group for a few minutes. They were watching some movie, but I cannot tell you the name. Once home, I watched a movie I think--the third edition of the Pirates of the Carribbean series, which made absolutely no sense to me--but it was diverting.
Oh, and somewhere in there, I traded some phone calls with a funeral home about a funeral Wednesday, and with a parishioner who meets with the family to help plan.
That was a bit busier than the usual Sunday for me; but not moreso than for a lot of priests, as I have two priests who help.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
'The miracle of being human (Respect Life Sunday homily)
What our Lord just said in the Gospel is very demanding—
there’s no getting around it.
It explains why the Catholic Church teaches what she does
about marriage and getting married again.
It should be pointed out that when Jesus said that,
He was going against the grain from every direction.
As we heard—he was overriding what Moses taught;
As well as what the prevailing, Greek and Roman culture,
around him, taught.
So—when we feel like our Catholic Church’s teachings
are out there, all alone—
That’s the way it was at the beginning,
with a lot of what Jesus said and did.
But there’s something underlying this that bears attention.
The larger picture is the high calling God has placed on humanity.
Not just about how we live in our marriages—
but who we truly understand ourselves to be,
both in our destiny for eternity,
and also, right here and right now.
You see, it was this passage (or rather, the parallel passage in Matthew)
that Pope John Paul II was studying,
when he began to offer the world a new way
of looking at our importance, and our purpose, in being human.
This is what is often called his "theology of the body."
It’s not easy to sum up in a few minutes in a homily, but:
the big idea is this: that our humanity—
how we are made, our bodies, our emotions,
and the way live in relationship with one another,
especially in family, and above all,
the unique love between a man and a woman—
all this has an indispensable role in showing the world who God is.
That includes, showing us who God is;
and along the way, it shows us who we truly are.
Look at this way.
If you think you are a small, almost insignificant part
of a large corporation, or of an army, you may think,
"what I do isn’t very important;
and whether I do my best, or I slack off…
how can that matter to the whole effort?"
But what if you found out that you really aren’t just a small cog—
a third-string utility player who rides the bench all season—
but in fact, you are a key player,
the whole plan for success depends far more on you
than you ever realized?
We are caught between all the messages of our culture—
which are everywhere, and they permeate our thinking
and our decisions far more than we realize—
and one of those messages is, that our bodies,
and the way we use our bodies in expressing intimacy—
isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things.
It’s fun, it’s fulfilling—but really,
why should God care so much about "dos and donts"
when it comes to such things?
Why does God insist on marriage for life?
Why would God care about it being a man and a woman?
And why should God object to something like contraception?
The answer is that our human nature is a kind of sacrament:
Bringing God to the world;
And how we live our lives either tells the truth about God—
and ourselves—or it tells falsehoods—to ourselves and to others.
You and I are made in the image of God.
In the first reading, Adam—before he meets the woman—
meets all the other living things.
What happens is he begins to discover
what an awesome thing it is to be human.
And when he meets his partner—
he discovers the rest of himself.
The human image of God is made complete
in the union of a man and a woman.
If we continued reading that passage,
we discover her name—Eve—"the mother of all the living."
An essential part of being image of God is that we are life-givers.
So notice how, after Jesus teaches about marriage,
the passage talks about children.
The love of a man and a woman is designed by God
not to be a closed circle, but to break out of itself, into new life.
Realize that when a man and a woman come together that way,
and new life comes into existence, nearly out of nothing—
at that moment, human beings come closest
to being like God: as a pro-creator and a life-giver!
The implications are staggering.
This is why we emphasize waiting until marriage,
being faithful in marriage,
and being open to the gift of life each and every time
a couple comes together.
Because these seemingly ordinary aspects of human life
are, in their own way, as sacred and awesome
as what happens on this altar at every Mass.
You and I would be scandalized
to have the sacred mysteries of the altar with disrespect;
it’s exactly the same with the sacred mystery
of our own human existence,
particularly as it involves a spouse and family and new life.
So as much as we might prefer to keep quiet,
We keep speaking up on behalf of the weak and powerless,
especially the poor and the unborn children
who are targeted for destruction.
We refuse to be silent
about the use of early human life
as a commodity for scientific "research"—
because every human life is part of the sacred mystery,
and it is a sacrilege, a blasphemy,
to treat any human being as something to throw away.
We realize that part of the danger is that if we get used to it,
we adjust ourselves to a big lie about who we are in God’s eyes—
about how special it is to being human.
It would be as if Adam, in seeing those animals, merely thought,
"I am one of them."
Does this demand a lot of us? Indeed it does.
But the key question is not, is it too hard?
But: is it true?
If we really are that important to the divine plan,
then we cannot opt out; we cannot be bystanders
and our choices matter quite a bit.
And that’s why as Christians, we take sin seriously,
and we are so grateful, so overwhelmed, by what God did in Christ
to rescue us, and to give us his own power, the Holy Spirit,
to live up to, and achieve, the wondrous truth of being human!
This is why the Sacrifice of the Mass—
Jesus offering himself as one of us, for us—
to rescue us from the lie—is so awesome and overwhelming!
God is calling us and lifting us up
to something vastly beyond our wildest imagination.
It demands our everything—
like the challenges and joys of marriage and family;
and like the Cross demanded of Jesus—
But it’s where we discover who we are
and the miracle of being human.
(A liturgical note: I thought the fourth Eucharistic Prayer was especially appropriate for this Mass.)
there’s no getting around it.
It explains why the Catholic Church teaches what she does
about marriage and getting married again.
It should be pointed out that when Jesus said that,
He was going against the grain from every direction.
As we heard—he was overriding what Moses taught;
As well as what the prevailing, Greek and Roman culture,
around him, taught.
So—when we feel like our Catholic Church’s teachings
are out there, all alone—
That’s the way it was at the beginning,
with a lot of what Jesus said and did.
But there’s something underlying this that bears attention.
The larger picture is the high calling God has placed on humanity.
Not just about how we live in our marriages—
but who we truly understand ourselves to be,
both in our destiny for eternity,
and also, right here and right now.
You see, it was this passage (or rather, the parallel passage in Matthew)
that Pope John Paul II was studying,
when he began to offer the world a new way
of looking at our importance, and our purpose, in being human.
This is what is often called his "theology of the body."
It’s not easy to sum up in a few minutes in a homily, but:
the big idea is this: that our humanity—
how we are made, our bodies, our emotions,
and the way live in relationship with one another,
especially in family, and above all,
the unique love between a man and a woman—
all this has an indispensable role in showing the world who God is.
That includes, showing us who God is;
and along the way, it shows us who we truly are.
Look at this way.
If you think you are a small, almost insignificant part
of a large corporation, or of an army, you may think,
"what I do isn’t very important;
and whether I do my best, or I slack off…
how can that matter to the whole effort?"
But what if you found out that you really aren’t just a small cog—
a third-string utility player who rides the bench all season—
but in fact, you are a key player,
the whole plan for success depends far more on you
than you ever realized?
We are caught between all the messages of our culture—
which are everywhere, and they permeate our thinking
and our decisions far more than we realize—
and one of those messages is, that our bodies,
and the way we use our bodies in expressing intimacy—
isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things.
It’s fun, it’s fulfilling—but really,
why should God care so much about "dos and donts"
when it comes to such things?
Why does God insist on marriage for life?
Why would God care about it being a man and a woman?
And why should God object to something like contraception?
The answer is that our human nature is a kind of sacrament:
Bringing God to the world;
And how we live our lives either tells the truth about God—
and ourselves—or it tells falsehoods—to ourselves and to others.
You and I are made in the image of God.
In the first reading, Adam—before he meets the woman—
meets all the other living things.
What happens is he begins to discover
what an awesome thing it is to be human.
And when he meets his partner—
he discovers the rest of himself.
The human image of God is made complete
in the union of a man and a woman.
If we continued reading that passage,
we discover her name—Eve—"the mother of all the living."
An essential part of being image of God is that we are life-givers.
So notice how, after Jesus teaches about marriage,
the passage talks about children.
The love of a man and a woman is designed by God
not to be a closed circle, but to break out of itself, into new life.
Realize that when a man and a woman come together that way,
and new life comes into existence, nearly out of nothing—
at that moment, human beings come closest
to being like God: as a pro-creator and a life-giver!
The implications are staggering.
This is why we emphasize waiting until marriage,
being faithful in marriage,
and being open to the gift of life each and every time
a couple comes together.
Because these seemingly ordinary aspects of human life
are, in their own way, as sacred and awesome
as what happens on this altar at every Mass.
You and I would be scandalized
to have the sacred mysteries of the altar with disrespect;
it’s exactly the same with the sacred mystery
of our own human existence,
particularly as it involves a spouse and family and new life.
So as much as we might prefer to keep quiet,
We keep speaking up on behalf of the weak and powerless,
especially the poor and the unborn children
who are targeted for destruction.
We refuse to be silent
about the use of early human life
as a commodity for scientific "research"—
because every human life is part of the sacred mystery,
and it is a sacrilege, a blasphemy,
to treat any human being as something to throw away.
We realize that part of the danger is that if we get used to it,
we adjust ourselves to a big lie about who we are in God’s eyes—
about how special it is to being human.
It would be as if Adam, in seeing those animals, merely thought,
"I am one of them."
Does this demand a lot of us? Indeed it does.
But the key question is not, is it too hard?
But: is it true?
If we really are that important to the divine plan,
then we cannot opt out; we cannot be bystanders
and our choices matter quite a bit.
And that’s why as Christians, we take sin seriously,
and we are so grateful, so overwhelmed, by what God did in Christ
to rescue us, and to give us his own power, the Holy Spirit,
to live up to, and achieve, the wondrous truth of being human!
This is why the Sacrifice of the Mass—
Jesus offering himself as one of us, for us—
to rescue us from the lie—is so awesome and overwhelming!
God is calling us and lifting us up
to something vastly beyond our wildest imagination.
It demands our everything—
like the challenges and joys of marriage and family;
and like the Cross demanded of Jesus—
But it’s where we discover who we are
and the miracle of being human.
(A liturgical note: I thought the fourth Eucharistic Prayer was especially appropriate for this Mass.)
Monday, September 28, 2009
Letting go of money (Sunday homily)
(These are my notes, adjusted by my memory of how I delivered this homily three times this past weekend...)
Looking at that second reading, we might make a couple of points:
1) St. James is not indicting everyone who has wealth,
but those who misuse their wealth, and the power that goes with it.
2) Many of us who wouldn't call ourselves wealthy would--nonetheless--
by James' standards be considered wealthy, if we:
> own our own homes
> have savings and investments
> own nice stuff
...because James is contrasting those who have security in wealth with those who do not.
James' point is not that wealth is bad, but that it has perils.
Have you not found that when we have possessions, what we own possesses us?
When you own things, or have responsibilities for a business and so forth,
these things occupy our thoughts and cares.
I experienced this when I decided to enter the seminary.
Before I did so, I had a job with some responsibility; I owned a nice car,
on which I had payments to make; and I owned a home, with a mortgage.
When I entered the seminary, I gave up the job; sold the car and bought a cheaper one,
with nothing owed; and sold my house.
While I was sad to give up those things, it was very freeing--
especially not to owe anyone a penny.
Well, I've come full circle--while I don't own a lot,
I do have plenty of responsibilities for this parish and the other parish
and it occupies my thoughts and cares.
When we find that these things overwhelm us,
the only thing to do is a prayer of surrender--
of turning these things over to God--and that can be very hard to do.
Often, we can only do that when our backs are against the wall
and we finally admit we can't handle it all on our own.
For me, it comes late at night, when I am turning things over in my mind,
and I can't sleep, even though I need to; it's when I'm finally exhausted that I let go.
But that letting go--loosening our grip--is what we need to do.
Not giving up, but giving over--to God who is ultimately in control.
A funny thing happens sometimes--people who have wealth or responsibility,
sometimes just decide to give it up.
This is not just a feature of the religious life, it's one of its principal attractions,
the vow of poverty.
St. Anthony--not of Padua, who helps us find lost things,
but of Egypt, from a long time ago, was one of the first monks.
He inherited a lot of money, and like many of us, decided to give part of it to God.
But that wasn't enough for him; so he gave most of it to God,
keeping a little for himself. Ultimately, he gave it all away.
Those who enter the vowed, religious life, this is one of the great attractions:
making this radical gift to Christ.
It was the same with St. Francis of Assisi, who even gave over his clothing.
But what about the rest of us, the majority of us who won't make a vow of poverty?
This is why giving part away is important--this is the spiritual rationale for that.
Just like fasting or penance or other spiritual exercises,
giving a part of what we have away helps us not hold the grip too tightly.
Of course, if we have money to give away, that's wonderful,
and thank you for your generosity to the church;
but it is also giving talent and time away too.
And when we give these things away,
we realize another kind of wealth we have: Christ!
His mercy and his presence are a bank account that is never empty.
As we take part in this Mass, perhaps we realize we need to let go a little more;
but take this opportunity to seize--with both hands!--
the great wealth that is Christ! He is our true wealth--in this life, and for eternity!
Looking at that second reading, we might make a couple of points:
1) St. James is not indicting everyone who has wealth,
but those who misuse their wealth, and the power that goes with it.
2) Many of us who wouldn't call ourselves wealthy would--nonetheless--
by James' standards be considered wealthy, if we:
> own our own homes
> have savings and investments
> own nice stuff
...because James is contrasting those who have security in wealth with those who do not.
James' point is not that wealth is bad, but that it has perils.
Have you not found that when we have possessions, what we own possesses us?
When you own things, or have responsibilities for a business and so forth,
these things occupy our thoughts and cares.
I experienced this when I decided to enter the seminary.
Before I did so, I had a job with some responsibility; I owned a nice car,
on which I had payments to make; and I owned a home, with a mortgage.
When I entered the seminary, I gave up the job; sold the car and bought a cheaper one,
with nothing owed; and sold my house.
While I was sad to give up those things, it was very freeing--
especially not to owe anyone a penny.
Well, I've come full circle--while I don't own a lot,
I do have plenty of responsibilities for this parish and the other parish
and it occupies my thoughts and cares.
When we find that these things overwhelm us,
the only thing to do is a prayer of surrender--
of turning these things over to God--and that can be very hard to do.
Often, we can only do that when our backs are against the wall
and we finally admit we can't handle it all on our own.
For me, it comes late at night, when I am turning things over in my mind,
and I can't sleep, even though I need to; it's when I'm finally exhausted that I let go.
But that letting go--loosening our grip--is what we need to do.
Not giving up, but giving over--to God who is ultimately in control.
A funny thing happens sometimes--people who have wealth or responsibility,
sometimes just decide to give it up.
This is not just a feature of the religious life, it's one of its principal attractions,
the vow of poverty.
St. Anthony--not of Padua, who helps us find lost things,
but of Egypt, from a long time ago, was one of the first monks.
He inherited a lot of money, and like many of us, decided to give part of it to God.
But that wasn't enough for him; so he gave most of it to God,
keeping a little for himself. Ultimately, he gave it all away.
Those who enter the vowed, religious life, this is one of the great attractions:
making this radical gift to Christ.
It was the same with St. Francis of Assisi, who even gave over his clothing.
But what about the rest of us, the majority of us who won't make a vow of poverty?
This is why giving part away is important--this is the spiritual rationale for that.
Just like fasting or penance or other spiritual exercises,
giving a part of what we have away helps us not hold the grip too tightly.
Of course, if we have money to give away, that's wonderful,
and thank you for your generosity to the church;
but it is also giving talent and time away too.
And when we give these things away,
we realize another kind of wealth we have: Christ!
His mercy and his presence are a bank account that is never empty.
As we take part in this Mass, perhaps we realize we need to let go a little more;
but take this opportunity to seize--with both hands!--
the great wealth that is Christ! He is our true wealth--in this life, and for eternity!
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