Our Patron, John Paul II (Sunday homily)

 This weekend you and I do what we always do: we gather for Mass.

We’ll have about 2,500 people in our eight Masses, 

and we’ll have more who will observe via the Internet.

And yet, there’s something we’re doing for the very first time:

All three parishes together 

are observing the solemnity of St. John Paul II.

Today is a good time to reflect on what it means 

that God gave us Pope John Paul II 

as the patron of our three parishes coming together.

“JPII” had an unparalleled devotion to our Lady;

He must love being a protector of two churches dedicated to her!

St. Henry was a king who preferred peace to war;

John Paul helped peacefully win the Cold War.

What St. John Paul might best be known for is that all his life, 

right until his last breath, was about pointing to Jesus.

There is a phrase he often used, which I’d like to propose 

you and I adopt as our inspiration: “Open wide the doors to Christ!”*

He looked ahead to the 3rd Millenium 

and foresaw reimagining parish life, to reorient familiar things.

That’s what you and I have been doing, and there’s more to do.

So, we pause to consider: 

what do you and I want that reimagined life of our parishes, 

the re-ignited spreading of our Faith to those around us, to look like?

Today, I’m giving you an invitation

to play an essential part in making that new reality happen.

That is the objective of our “Open Wide the Doors” campaign, 

which you may have heard about already, 

and you will hear more about, in the days ahead.

Consider the journey we’ve been on.

We could go all the way back to 1852, 

when Our Lady of Good Hope was founded, under another name; 

or to 1867, the beginning of St. Mary in Franklin; 

or to the beginning of St. Henry in 1960.

Lots of challenges and surprises 

and lots of people full of faith ready for them,

including our recent journey bringing us together.

Thank you for already opening wide your hearts to this journey, 

and to the future that remains hidden;

but which will be far brighter faced with faith and not fear. 

You and I, in turn, owe thanks to all who brought us thus far, 

on whose work you and I will continue to build.

It has always required more than the ministry of our priests, 

the instruction of teachers and catechists 

and the labors of staff and volunteers, all so valuable.

No, you and I got here together; it requires all of us.

So, at this moment, I’m asking everyone to pause and consider:

What will be your part, my part of the story 

as we write this next chapter?

You’ve certainly noticed new faces: mine! 

Also our safety volunteers, and new staff members.

You have read about things we’re organizing in some different ways,

Both to get more value for your dollars and to serve people better.

We’ve opened wide the doors of our three campuses.

More people are enjoying the PAC at St. Henry.

You’ve seen improvements 

at Our Lady of Good Hope and St. Mary, long needed.

These things all cost money.

You may not realize it, but I’ve been meeting quietly with folks 

who have responded generously thus far with about $340,000 pledged 

toward these efforts to make our shared homes more welcoming.

But the financial backbone of our parishes is your weekly offerings.

In the next few days, you’ll receive a letter inviting you to consider: what am I willing to offer to help open even wider the doors 

of all three of our churches and all we can offer?

By “wider,” I mean this:

There are 130,000 people who live in our combined parish boundaries.

A lot of them are fellow Catholics who we haven’t met yet.

There are so many ways you and I can welcome them, 

but our present resources are limited.

As you saw in my report a few weeks ago, 

two of our parishes have a deficit, 

almost all due to the maintenance needs we are catching up on. 

We’re spending more because we’re doing more.

You and I can balance our budgets tomorrow by simply deciding:

we won’t be ambitious. We will stand pat.

But that’s not Opening Wide the Doors; that’s shutting them!

And our parishes will not thrive if you and I don’t step out in faith.

When you receive the mailing I mentioned, 

please consider how you can help our parishes take these steps.

There will be a commitment card 

and I ask you to pray about what you will do, 

and bring your commitment to church next weekend. 

And just to make clear: when you check that commitment card, 

you decide what to offer and how it will be used. 

One of our goals is to give you maximum flexibility

in being able to direct your donations where you want them;

and to enable you to contribute safely online or with an envelope.

We can’t do any of this without you!

St. John Paul II had another phrase he was famous for,

Which was, of course, Jesus’ own words:

“Be not afraid”!

Together, you and I can offer ourselves 

and the treasures of our parishes, our shared home, 

to welcoming more, to help others share our faith, 

and as a result, we build the St. John Paul II Family.

It’s in our own hands. Be not afraid!

* After the first Mass, I was reminded by a reading in the breviary that Pope St. John Paul II said these words in his first homily as pope.

The gold of heaven (Sunday homily)

 This meeting between Jesus and the rich young man 

reminds us that there is only one form of wealth 

that we can take with us after we die.

It is not money; we will leave it all behind. 

The only wealth you and I can take with us is other people.

That’s why the most beautiful work any person can accomplish 

is to be a parent, to bring new life into the world. 

We do this both in the natural sense, and in the spiritual sense.

Notice Jesus talks about those who give up family and children 

will “receive a hundred times more.” 

If I had raised a family, it would not have been easy 

to match my parents’ achievement of seven children.

But as a priest, I have baptized hundreds of babies, 

And witnessed hundreds of weddings.

I’ve heard thousands of confessions.

With our Parish School of Religion and Bishop Leibold School, 

we have over 600 children we share our faith with each week.

Parents, you know how beautiful it is to cooperate with God 

and bring new life into the world;

and you grasp better than any others the even more urgent task 

of bringing them into the next world, into God’s Kingdom.

This you promised when you brought them to be baptized.

Recall that we name the family “the domestic church.”

And this a good time to remember that the family – 

not the parish and our many activities, not our school, but the family – is where the faith is first nurtured and best nurtured.

 

As much as we need priests and deacon and vowed religious – 

and you can make such a difference saying yes to that call! –

it is the task of every single Christian 

to beget spiritual life in ourselves and others.

As in family life, this goes beyond what we learn and know;

it is fundamentally about the witness of daily perseverance.

And, to state the obvious: you and I can’t give what we don’t have.

True for money; true for faith. 

People around us, our kids, our coworkers, see what our priority is.

As they see you and me put Jesus at the center, that’s how we do it. 

And anyone can do that, any age or situation. 

Everyone can do this!

By the way: people say, what will revive our parishes?

What’s the secret? This is it!

Jesus at the center, in our lives; people will see it.

And over time, they’ll decide you’re for real, and they’ll respond.

The book of Revelation says the heavenly Jerusalem is a city of gold.

But what is gold to God is not a rock in the ground, but people!

God can have all the gold and diamonds he wants, just by wishing it. 

But God the Son came to earth, 

and shed his blood, for people. He thirsts for souls.

You and I are the treasure God values above all. 

This is one reason you and I as Catholics push back 

on the claim that there are “too many people.” 

God never says that. 

We human beings, who sometimes mismanage 

the resources of this abundant world, are the ones who say that.

Human beings, the image of God, are his greatest treasure.

So, I’d say to our children, in your day-to-day experience at school, 

it is pretty common for students to treat each other badly.

When I was a boy, there were some who bullied me.

And there were times I joined in insults, 

or remained silent when I ought to have spoken up.

Don’t wait to be a friend and to be bold standing up for what is right.

The ability to make a difference in someone’s life starts early.

Saturday I got together with a friend I’ve known since Kindergarten!

We’ve been a good influence on each other. I hope I see him in heaven!

Think about that.

You and I are hoping to make it to the Kingdom.

Think about what it will be like to get there, and look around,

and see all the people you helped get there, or who helped you.

That is the only way to be truly rich.

Be part of the flood (St. Henry Dedication homily)

 Today we celebrate a special occasion just for St. Henry. 

That’s why the readings and the Mass prayers were different.

We recall when this church was consecrated 

by Archbishop Daniel Pilarczyk on October 3, 1982.

Here we are, 40 years later. 

And this is a glass-half-full-or-half-empty kind of situation.

The constant of our times is constant change. 

You and I experience it in this parish – 

but that reflects the larger society.

That said, I bet many of wish we could find, here, 

a refuge from that constant froth.

May I point out that when this church was built, 

it was a deliberate expression of change?

This design departs notably from the old, familiar style.

Maybe you like that, or you don’t, but it wasn’t an accident.

The hope was to express openness.

And the point I’m making is that a certain amount of flux 

was baked into this parish’s DNA right from the beginning.

And I think that “openness” this church building tries to model 

is at work in this community.

If you drive past St. Henry, early, mid-day or evening, 

have you noticed? There’s always some cars, always some activity.

Our fields and our Parish Activity Center are busy!

In the midst of the change with our three parishes becoming one,

That activity level is increasing. That’s openness in action.

Every week I sign paperwork approving expenditures 

and big numbers make my eyes pop: one was $21,000!

Then I saw what it was: it was your gifts to St. Vincent de Paul.

That’s openness.

Thank you for that openness.

It is disorienting and tiring to experience change;

At the same time, your openness is a healthy thing.

The task ahead for all Catholics in our country – 

not just this parish –

is to rethink and reorient how open we are, 

how engaging we are, in sharing our faith.

For the longest time, we Catholics were so low-key about that.

This is a culture shift and it won’t be easy.

Forgive me for reminding you: when you and I met two years ago, 

and I listened to the questions and observations of our parishioners,

a frequent yearning was to revive the practice of our Faith, 

to bring people back in these doors, and to bring new people, if we can.

If we’re going to do anything with that desire, we can’t sit still.

I agree with those who’d like a little rest from change!

But we don’t want to get stiff and stuck.

This church was designed to challenge us to action. 

Surely you noticed, the light comes in and changes through the day.

We need a refuge, but we don’t want to close ourselves off.

Indeed, you and I must be willing to be that water that flows out, 

as we heard described in the first reading. 

If you noticed, it starts as a trickle – 

that’s a symbol of each of us individually; 

but all those trickles become a flood, giving life.

That flood happens as each of us shares our hope with others.

Invites others to pray in this church, 

to join our men’s and women’s retreats, 

to help assemble blessings in a bag 

or to walk with women facing challenging pregnancies.

Our Bishop Leibold School, which is growing 

and continues to win awards, is another channel of this life.

Let me be candid: there are some who are more salty than fresh water!

There’s always something to find wrong if you look.

And that’s OK, because finding leads to fixing. 

Keep me in the loop.

But I don’t buy that there’s not a great deal more 

good to celebrate and life to share. 

Be part of that flood!

What Detachment is and how to gain it (Sunday homily)

 This homily is going to be all about one concept, one virtue.

That is something called “detachment.”

What do I mean by “detachment”?

I mean that freedom that comes from 

not being overly concerned with stuff, 

or with pleasure, or food, or success, 

or with the opinions of other people, or with having our own way.

Or with the way the world goes on around us.

In the second reading, St. James tells us: 

you have conflict because of your passions, because of greed and envy.

You want things too much, or in the wrong way.

Detachment is learning to dial down those passions and wants.

Detachment doesn’t mean we don’t care or that we are passive.

It means accepting our limits and finding peace.

In the Gospel, Jesus confronts the Apostles 

over their longing for importance, for being admired and respected.

He puts a child in front of them and says, 

learn how to slow down and pay attention to a child. 

That takes great patience and a certain lowliness.

Detachment means freedom. What you own, owns you.

What do we say when someone is married, has a family, 

and builds a business? That she is “tied down.” 

Detachment is being free of these things.

That freedom means the ability to say “yes” 

where otherwise the answer would be “no.”

“Yes” to others; “yes” to opportunities for ourselves. “Yes” to God.

This is a reason why young people are more likely 

to drop everything and go off on adventures and missions.

So much less to lose. They aren’t tied down yet.

Have you never gotten that faraway look, longing to be young at heart, 

Wishing you could have that carefree mindset once more?

So, how do we gain this virtue of detachment?

Well, there are several ways it happens.

One path is that of suffering. Pain. Crisis. Loss.

Many of us have been there: 

nothing can so narrow our sense of what truly matters, 

as when we are in trouble, or someone we love is.

Another path is that of voluntary self-denial and penance.

You and I do this for six weeks of Lent. 

That’s the reason we give up things like 

candy and beer and video games. 

So that we don’t love them too much.

But this isn’t just for Lent.

Every Friday is supposed to be a day of penance. 

For Christians, penance is a feature of everyday life.

That’s what our parents meant by “offer it up.”

And, parents, I know you live this, 

when you rarely get a hot meal or a full night’s sleep. 

Underneath all this is something else, and that is grace.

Grace is the help God gives us – in uncountable, constant ways – 

to help us grow in holiness, to help us become like him.

To become a saint, which is what God has planned for each of us.

Bishop Binzer told me something once I never forgot, 

and I have found to be good advice:

Be grateful for those people who cause you problems, 

because they are helping you get to heaven.

You and I never really know why the path for us is what it is,

but by God’s grace, you and I find grace on that path.

That grace helps us become free, 

so we can enjoy – but not be possessed by – 

the good things of this life.

That frees our hands to reach for that one Prize that matters:

Jesus Christ and the life he offers.

You don't want a Christ without the Cross

In the Gospel, Peter is offended 

by the idea of the Messiah going to the cross. 

But then, isn’t what Peter says just what we might say?

If someone says to us, “I’ve got a terrible path ahead of me,”

wouldn’t we say, “God forbid! No such thing shall ever happen to you”?

And yet Jesus whips around and says, 

“Get behind me, Satan!” 

He’s not rejecting Peter; but he is warning him 

of how misled, and ultimately fruitless, his thinking is. 

And notice, Jesus doesn’t say get away from me, 

but rather, “get behind me”—

he still wanted Peter with him, but not as a roadblock.

How does this apply to us?

Well, I think about how some people respond when someone says, 

“I am thinking about being a priest,” or entering religious life.”

And parents and grandparents will say, oh no, that will be too hard; 

you’ll be lonely, you won’t make much money. 

They try to talk their children out of it, too much of the cross.

I have known great joy as a priest.

But if anyone wants an easy path, don’t be a priest;

we do NOT need any priests who want an easy path. Not even one.

To be a priest is to unite yourself with Jesus the High Priest, 

and his priesthood is the Cross.

The joy I have as a priest is seeing how life is born from the Cross.

I get to see that in people’s lives every single day.

Next Jesus then goes on to say – to everyone –

Whoever comes after me must take up his cross and follow me. 

“Whoever”! That’s every single one of us.

Parents, I want you to know what our school 

and our religious education and youth programs

are telling our boys and girls:

To be a Christian man or woman 

isn’t to run away from the Cross, but to face it. 

That’s where virtue happens. That’s how we become saints.

This is a good time to talk about a part of our Faith 

that is most misunderstood, and most widely disregarded, 

and yet I think it will prove, in years to come, 

to be the most prophetic. 

I mean our teaching – 

which goes back to the beginning of Christianity, by the way – 

That marital love always being open to life,

Which is what Natural Family Planning safeguards.

Of course being a parent is a sacrifice. 

So many of you bear witness to this every day;

and I will always remember the sacrifices my parents made, 

which I had to reach adulthood to understand fully. 

But to me, that only proves the truth of this teaching.

Notice, it puts the cross right at the center of marriage. 

How can a home and a family be Christian, 

without the Cross right at the center? 

Let’s go back to Jesus’ words: 

You and I can’t be his disciple without the Cross.

As much as each of us might like such a plan, it simply won’t work.

Bishop Fulton Sheen once explained powerfully 

what happens when you separate the Christ and the Cross.

If you try to have Christ without the Cross, 

you end up with cheap sentimentality. 

This is the Jesus so many say they admire – “oh, isn’t he nice!”

But why would you give your life for Hallmark Card pieties?

Then Sheen talked about the alternative: a cross without Jesus.

In his time, Bishop Sheen cited communism, 

But it could be any number of “isms” and movements

that invite people to discipline, self-denial 

and dedication to something greater than oneself. 

In our comfort-rich but meaning-impoverished culture, 

this is attractive.

The trouble, as Sheen said, 

is that the Cross without Christ is authoritarian and cruel; 

conversion without love and forgiveness only means conformity. 

There is death but no resurrection.

Wednesday the anniversary of 9-11,

When followers of a Cross-without-Christ 

flew those planes into the Towers,  

Demanding that the world be purified.

A Christ-without-the-Cross looks on in horror, but does nothing. 

But those who ran into the fire showed us: 

no one has greater love than this: to lay down ones life for another.

There are lots of reasons to recoil from the Cross as Peter did.

But there is no other way to true life.

Why rules? (Sunday homily)

Let’s talk about rules – because the readings talk about rules.

A lot of people think that being a Catholic is all about rules.

That’s a knock on us from outside. 

It’s what some Catholics themselves say when they complain.

People fault parish priests and the bishops for “too many rules.”

But here’s something that may surprise you.

That’s not actually what I or most parish priests 

or bishops are leading with.

People frequently will say, “Is such-and-such a sin?”

When I answer, I always try to explain the issue, 

so that people can know better how to answer the question themselves.

And it strikes me how often people don’t have patience for that.

Remember, this is why God gave each of us a conscience; 

and for each of us, our job is to inform our conscience 

by learning our faith — that goes beyond “just the rules.”

So, let me give you an example, and offer some guidance to help you:

People often ask, “I don’t know whether something is a mortal sin.”

Here’s how you know the answer to that.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraph 1857, 

For a sin to be mortal, three conditions must together be met. 

The object must be “grave matter,” and the sin is also committed 

with full knowledge and deliberate consent."

Notice those three terms. Let’s examine them.

“Grave matter.” Grave means serious, or great; 

that is, the damage the sin causes is serious or great damage.

So: stealing a pad of paper from work may not do grave harm; 

stealing a computer probably does. 

And, just to be super-clear: stealing anything at all is wrong. 

A venial sin is still a sin that damages our love for God and others.

“Full knowledge” means you know clearly that what you did is wrong, 

and how wrong it is. 

So, if you say, “I don’t know if X is a sin” there it is: 

a lack of full knowledge. And that calls for someone to learn more.

And then consent must be “deliberate,” meaning, not impulsive, 

and not under pressure or when you’re at a real low point.

I’m explaining this because what’s important is not just following rules, 

but knowing why we have rules.

Everyone gets to a point — probably every week – 

where we complain about a rule. Rules may not always be fair.

I am absolutely certain I could write better tax laws!

But then, everyone here has the same certainty, right?

My family and your family, every family, has rules – because we have to.

Same for a parish; same for a company; same for a community.

So, we can form some conclusions: rules, like it or not, are needed.

But rules are never for their own sake.

The late Father Mike Seger taught us in the seminary, 

and he said something simple and profound:

“Rules exist to protect values.”

If you can’t figure out why there is a rule, ask:

What value is this rule protecting?

Maybe – as our Lord makes clear in the Gospel –

The rule isn’t working anymore, and we change it.

Or, maybe we rediscover the value that we’ve lost sight of.

Jesus is challenging not just the pharisees, but every one of us:

Are you and I just checking boxes?

“I showed up on time.” “I filled out the right paperwork.” 

“I got right to the line but didn’t cross it.”

I’m sure we’ve all played a game before: 

softball or basketball or a card game like Euchre. 

And all games have rules.

But the rules aren’t the point. The rules make the game possible.

The game itself is the point.

So with our faith…what is the point? Have we forgotten?

To know God and to allow him to bring us into union with him.

The point is to let his grace fill us and change us: 

not just for a good show on the surface, but all the way through.

If it’s only following rules, that means we’ll end up being good robots.

Is that what you want to be for eternity?

But if the point is to become holy, to become truly loving 

and truly generous and truly just and truly merciful,

Then that means for us, heaven is simply being happy 

being the saints God has made us. 

Which sounds better: being a robot, or being happy?