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?

Why we Catholics do what we do with Holy Communion (Sunday homily)

 In the first reading, Wisdom says, come to a meal. 

For a lot of us, meals are eaten on the run, in the car, or at your desk. 

I’m guilty of that!  

Yet that’s not Wisdom’s meal. 

She is saying, set aside real time to focus on both the food and the company. 

Make the most of it. 

Just on the level of a meal, this can be a powerful experience, 

to give real attention both to preparing a meal with love 

and sharing it with others, 

where we focus not just on the food, but the company. 

And that is a prism for the whole of life.

Is the point of the Rosary to rush through as fast as possible? 

Or to be aware of your company: 

Being with Mary and the saints turning our gaze to Jesus, 

And being aware of our fellow pilgrims beside us in the pews?

Now let’s focus on Jesus’ words in the Gospel. 

He is True Wisdom, inviting you and me to the greatest of all meals. 

“The Bread I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

These are shocking words, and if you’re not shocked, 

I must ask: were you listening? “The Bread I will give is my flesh…”

People were listening that day, and they were shocked. 

Notice Jesus didn’t back down, he doubled down. 

Over and over, he says, “eat my flesh” and “drink my blood.” 

So, this is not a mere symbol, not a metaphor. 

This, right here, sets us Catholics apart from many other Christians. 

I do not say that to be superior or insulting – 

and I am aware there are those with us who aren’t Catholic, 

who are, in their own way, sorting out their beliefs. 

But it is actually disrespectful to minimize or wave away real differences.

There’s more we could explore here, if there were time, 

but for now, let’s just acknowledge the reality.

If people ask us why we Catholics take this so seriously, 

we can do no better than to point to this Gospel passage. 

You and I are remaining faithful 

to how Catholics have heard these words since the very beginning. 

One of the first to call us “Catholic” was the bishop Ignatius, 

about 70 years after the Last Supper. 

He spoke about the Eucharist as we do, today.

And more examples could be cited.

And it’s all connected to questions like, is the Mass a true sacrifice? Yes. 

Does there continue to be a true priesthood? Yes. 

And do we believe it is important to maintain continuity with those before us? Again, yes.

Still, we can get a panicky, not knowing how to explain 

our Catholic practice of only Catholics – in a state of grace – 

receiving the Eucharist.

If asked, you might answer that we believe receiving the Eucharist 

is not just one familiar rituals. 

Anyone can receive ashes or bless themselves with holy water.

But for Catholics, the Eucharist is the supreme moment of focus on Jesus himself. 

Since Jesus tells us the Eucharist 

is his whole self, Body and Blood, given for us and to us, 

it is necessary that you and I come prepared to give our whole selves to him.

Remember Lady Wisdom inviting us: take time to give yourselves wholly.

So: there needs to be a holistic act of faith on our part,

giving ourselves wholly to the whole Body of Christ;

Not just what the priest or distributor is holding up,

But the whole mystical Body of Christ – that is, the Church.

This is what it means to become Catholic. 

When people become Catholic a little later in life, this is clearer: 

they take time to understand the implications, to prepare, 

and then in a solemn way, they commit themselves publicly. 

Then: their first Holy Communion.

For those of us who were baptized as babies, 

it was our parents who had to make a solemn commitment, 

which they did on the day of our baptism. 

Then, as we mature, we grow into our own solemn commitment. 

What I’m describing is the origin of Lent: 

either for those entering the church to fast and prepare and convert; 

or for the already baptized to fast and renew our conversion. 

Then comes Easter when some are baptized and the rest of us renew our baptism. 

And this is relived each Sunday at Mass. 

Notice we recite the Creed each Sunday: a solemn profession!

If no one ever told you that all this is serious, solemn stuff, 

then I’m telling you now. Don’t just toddle along. Ask yourself: do I believe this?

And for those around us who want to receive the Eucharist,

The right answer is, “Yes, we want that too! But let us help you prepare. 

This is worth a lot more than a moment’s reflection, don’t you think?

'What happens in St. Mary Church...' (Sunday homily)

 Today we have a feast day special for just this church. 

That’s why the readings are different today, 

and apologies to anyone who expected something different.

Today we recall when this church was consecrated by Archbishop Schnurr.

The bishops consider such an occasion so important 

that it can be celebrated on a nearby Sunday, so that’s what we do; 

it was actually August 14, 2016, 

when this structure changed from merely a building into the House of God.

And that right there is what we celebrate:

God dwelling among his people.

And that makes this church, and every church so consecrated, holy ground.

A bit of heaven on earth.

You may think I’m speaking figuratively or using a metaphor, 

but I am speaking very literally. I mean my words with full force.

You and I live in a secular age, in which increasingly, 

people speak of God as if he is just a figure of speech.

And if he actually exists, we really can’t say anything definite about God.

God becomes kind of an ink-blot test, remember those?

Someone shows you an ink-blot 

and you say, “Oh, I see a bird” or “I see a tree.”

The funny thing is, humanity was supposed to be so much better off 

when science and reason prevailed, 

and any claims about faith and the supernatural 

were segregated off to be purely personal.

But that doesn’t seem to be working out.

Like it or not, some part of us seems to be oriented toward mystery, 

toward the transcendent, toward – dare I say – the spiritual?

And so, if you look around, you may notice more and more people who,

in declaring themselves not to be interested in religion, 

End up embracing a world-view that is not more rational, but less, 

grounded not in science but subjectivity?

How else to explain those who insist emotional experience 

is more real than objective biological facts – 

which is what the “transgender” issue boils down to?

So, let me return to what I said a moment ago.

This church is a bit of heaven on earth. God is here with us.

This is no more than an extension of the words we recite in the Creed:

“For us men and for our salvation he came down from heaven,

and by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and became man.”

This – God becoming what we are and becoming knowable by us – 

is the only remedy for our friends, neighbors, or any of us 

to avoid being lost in the abyss of our own subjectivity.

Of course, this feast day is not only about a sacred building.

It is about the consecrated people who are changed by what happens here.

That takes the matter to the next level:

This building’s holiness is demonstrated by our holiness.

People will believe God is here by what they see in you and me.

There’s a TV ad that says, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

That statement has many problems we can talk about another time, but: 

This cannot be true about this place. 

What happens in St. Mary’s church, if it’s real, 

cannot and will not stay in this church!

Through baptism, through confession, through prayer together, 

through the Holy Mass, through mourning and rejoicing together, 

The Holy Spirit is working to shape each of us into the likeness of Jesus.

What happens here pushes out from here:

In a readiness to forgive and seek peace amidst strife;

In a calm steadiness amidst the uncertainties of the world around us;

In an unrelenting generosity to those most in need.

As the hymn says, “They will know we are Christians by our love”;

And they’ll know God dwells here by meeting us.

'Food that endures' (Sunday homily)

 Last Sunday, the key idea was “signs” – 

that is, which point us toward Jesus Christ, who is the destination.

This Sunday, we hear the Lord Jesus say:

“Do not work for food that perishes

but for the food that endures for eternal life.”

So I wondered: how do these two types of food compare?

Let’s start with “food that perishes” – that is, natural, ordinary food.

This food you and I can grow or raise ourselves, or we buy. 

Although food is much easier to get than in Bible times,

It still costs real money and takes real work.

If we don’t eat it, we will die.

If we eat the wrong kind, we will get sick.

If you or I eat too much, we get fat.

But even if we eat the right food, in the right amount, 

You and I will still die, because this natural life cannot go on forever.

Such is the “food that perishes.”

Now, what about the enduring food Jesus offers us?

You and I cannot produce it; we cannot prepare it. It is simply given.

What does it cost? I was going to say it’s free, and that’s true.

Yet in another sense, no food is more costly,

because what we “pay” to receive Jesus is, simply, our whole selves. 

He gives himself entirely, and he demands the very same from us.

Our entire selves: let that sink in.

Many wonder why the Christian Faith is facing troubles in our time.

So many profess to be Christian, but don’t really live it. 

Many live compartmentalized lives: one part of me prays, 

one part of me believes, but another part of me cheats on my taxes,

or mistreats my spouse, or goes to dark places on the Internet, 

or depends on alcohol to make me happy,

or is envious or controlling, and so on and so on.

Meanwhile there are so many who simply ignore the claims of Christ.

They don’t think they are rejecting him; but he’s a figure on a cross, 

a picture on the wall, and maybe he gets a visit one or two times a year.

Why is this happening?

It is true that bad Christians – high or low – give scandal.

Nevertheless, the main reason people 

do not continue with their Christian Faith, or do not accept it,

is because Jesus simply asks too much.

We might be willing to give him a part of us; but he demands ALL.

And so, by the way, this is why when we commit a mortal sin, 

we must be reconciled – through confession – 

before receiving the Eucharist. 

Jesus is not content to have only part of us; he wants all!

So, yes, the “food that endures” is indeed costly.

What else about the food Jesus gives?

While natural food can only communicate natural life,

The food of Jesus provides supernatural life that never ends. 

But without Jesus, you and I will be eternally hungry and empty, 

and that is hell.

These are the two foods placed before us.

And Jesus says, you’re working hard for ordinary food; I understand.

Still, receive this Food; “work” for this Food I will give;

And the “work” we do for it, is to put our faith in Jesus; 

as I said, to give him our entire selves, nothing held back.

The bread and wine, used for Mass, is “food that perishes.”

It is ordinary.

In a few moments, before our eyes, 

through the unworthy hands of this sinful priest,   

Jesus himself will change these ephemeral, earth-bound elements, 

into that Food which he promised to give: 

His very self, his Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity.

Now, do you see something else? 

This food, this perishable food, this is us!

You and I, like the bread and wine, 

do not have supernatural life in ourselves; 

and if God had not acted and entered time to share it, 

we would spend eternity without supernatural life!

What Jesus does to the bread and wine on the altar, 

He is determined to do to you and me!

This is what it means to receive the Eucharist;

As Saint Augustine said, we become what we receive.

I’m going to end with two questions.

Don’t answer too quickly. 

Look deep in your own heart, confront yourself, 

and tell yourself the answer. 

Think hard about whether you truly mean it. 

Do you believe this change – from bread and wine, 

into Jesus’ Body and Blood, his true and real Presence – 

actually happens on this altar?

And do you believe that what Jesus does to bread and wine, 

He can and he will – AND WILL! – do to you?

Jesus is the Food that Endures: Become what you receive!

What kind of sign? (Sunday homily)

 A few years ago, I made a trip to Germany;

I rented a car to get around. 

Even without speaking much German, 

I could figure out the speed limits and what exits to take. 

In other words, the signs did their job.

Today’s Scriptures talk about signs.

Elisha performs a sign, which points to what Jesus himself did later.

And in the second reading, 

Saint Paul tells the Ephesians, in effect, 

they are a sign by how they live their lives.

For the next five Sundays we will hear Jesus himself teach us

about the Eucharist, from Chapter six of the Gospel of John. 

That decision by the Church, to give so many Sundays to this, 

is also a sign: of how very important the Holy Eucharist is.

Now, speaking of highway signs.

The way they work is, they point you to the next major city, 

and then when you reach that, 

the signs refer to the next place, and so forth.

So, with I-75: when you get on, it’ll say, north to Toledo, 

or south to Cincinnati.

Not until you get beyond Cincinnati does it say “Lexington,” 

And so forth, all the way to Florida. 

That’s how God leads us through life. 

You and I move forward in stages,

and before you know it, we’re home.

When you and I talk about the sacraments,

They are more than merely signs.

A traffic sign doesn’t have any power in itself,

but the sacraments do: 

the power of God is at work through them.

And when we speak of the Most Holy Eucharist, 

Jesus’ Body and Blood, his true, full self,

What you and I are dealing with is now, 

not so much a waypoint, as our “destination.”

As you and I follow the path given us, 

responding to our hunger for Jesus, who is somewhat hidden,

stage by stage, we pass beyond the surface, beyond the ordinary;

and when we have that awareness that he’s real,

the Eucharist is Jesus himself! 

He draws us all the way to full union, and to heaven.

But now comes the challenge.

We’re not just given signs. You and I are signs.

We can either be good signs that point the right way,

or bad signs, that people disregard.

We’ve all had the conversation where someone

points to a bad priest or bishop,

Or a phony politician, or some other Catholic who is a bad witness,

And they say, “that’s why I won’t be a Catholic.”

There’s the bad sign!

What do we do? Give them another sign to look at.

A convincing sign. A sign that is bright with the Holy Spirit.

That sign is you.

See? This is what we’re talking about when we say,

our St. John Paul II family must become about evangelizing and welcoming.

This is it: you and I becoming that credible, attractive sign, 

pointing to Jesus.

Let me give you two ways to become that kind of sign.

The first way is to be a penitent. 

People aren’t drawn by who are boastful, 

who claim to have it all figured out. 

That’s not what you and I need to be.

Our family, friends and neighbors can identify with us 

when we admit our failings and demonstrate we are trying 

to become the best version of ourselves.

In short: go to confession! Make a habit of confession.

How powerful a sign it would it be if OLGH, SM and SH 

became crowded with people seeking confession and conversion?

How much will that help each of us 

to be convincing witnesses for Christ?

The second way you and I can be a powerful sign is by our reverence, 

at Holy Mass and specifically, in receiving Holy Communion.

Now, so many are doing that.

Your love for the Eucharist is a powerful sign to me!

That said, now is a good time to reflect and ask ourselves,

Does how each of us approaches Holy Mass, and the Eucharist,

Fully reflect what we believe.

So often people feel rushed; our mind is on the rest of the day.

We can treat what is special as too ordinary.

All of us, including me.

What can help is to pause, before Mass starts, and during Mass,

To remind yourself: I am in the presence of the God who made me,

And more than that, became human to die on the Cross for me.

God is giving himself to me.

And this is why it’s so important to have moments of actual silence – 

without talking or music – before and during Mass.

Also, remember that when we come to receive the Eucharist,

The bishops ask that everyone show some sign of reverence.

Some kneel. Others genuflect. 

Others bow or make the sign of the cross.

The idea is slow down and notice: my God, given to me!

Jesus forms us into his Body on Earth, the Church 

to be signs pointing to him.

You decide how powerful a sign you will be.

Planting seeds of faith with St. Henry (Sunday homily)

This weekend we celebrate the patron of this church, Saint Henry. 

Saint Henry’s feast day falls on July 13 each year; 

for a parish or church named for a saint, that day is a solemnity 

and the bishops allow the feast to be celebrated 

on the nearest Sunday – so that’s what we’re doing this weekend.

The point is that a parish should know its patron saint.

We were entrusted to his care; Saint Henry prays for us in heaven!

Before I go any further, let me share some news.

1) You might enjoy knowing that Joseph Allaire, 

one of our seminarians 

and a son of Our Lady of Good Hope parish, 

made a trip to Germany this summer, 

and visited the grave of St. Henry and his wife, St. Cunegunda. 

2) You can see some improvements on our campus, 

and I hope you like having some repaired curbs and fresh asphalt. 

3) Meanwhile, we are installing a new floor in the PAC 

and added some fresh paint. 

With a renewed Parish Activity Center, 

you and I can fill it with activity again, for all ages, 

from prayer and meetings to social activities and sports.

There are generous people who are helping make these improvements possible 

this summer and if you want to help, let me know. 

Now let me share a bit about Henry. 

He was born in AD 973 and died in 1024, a thousand years ago.

He was part of an important family. 

His father had been Duke of Bavaria.

But then his father fell into disfavor with the King, 

and dad was deposed from his office.

Later, the political winds changed again, and Henry and his family 

were back in their position of power and prestige.

One of the wise decisions his father made 

was to entrust Henry to be educated by the bishop Wolfgang, 

who was later recognized as a saint. 

Perhaps St. Wolfgang helped Henry learn from his family’s trials 

to focus on Christ’s kingdom, instead of his own, uncertain one?

Some people have great conversion moments; perhaps Henry did too.

Others are set on a path of prayer early on – this was Henry’s story. 

He was taught the importance of giving Jesus time every day.

Sometimes the most life-changing decisions are the simplest.

And we might notice that not many politicians become saints!

Why did Henry? Maybe because of the seeds of faith planted early.

This is what we do in our parish family in so many ways.

With Bishop Leibold School, with religious education and preparation for sacraments, 

with retreats and other activities for adults,

With our many opportunities to feed the hungry and help the troubled, All this plants seeds. 

If you did the math, Henry lived only 51 years on earth – 

fewer years than this parish has been here in South Dayton –

And yet the light of heaven that shined through his life 

reaches forward a thousand years to us and beyond.

Think about that whenever you say, what difference can I make?

So many kings valued their wives solely for giving them heirs.

He and his wife Saint Cunegunda did not conceive any children. 

Other kings would abandon their wives; Henry remained true.

Henry’s family complained to him that he was squandering his fortune; 

not on palaces and politics, but on the poor.

As king, Henry commanded armies and faced wars; 

but he was notable for seeking paths of peace and reconciliation.

Where did Henry learn these things? 

Was it when he got together with other kings and dukes?

Or was it when he attended Mass, 

or in the habit of prayer that he learned as a youth?

Perhaps as he and his beloved wife contemplated 

how to make a difference for eternity?

Again, it’s all about what you and I make a priority.

We always find time for what matters most. 

As St. Henry Parish comes together with Our Lady of Good Hope 

and St. Mary, as we work together, as we build together,

you and I can be just like Henry, as we:

- Share our gifts with our community, not hesitantly, but confidently;

- Make our churches and all our facilities welcoming, 

which is some of what you’re seeing happen this summer;

- Don’t be discouraged as we plant seeds of faith; 

they will sprout, even if takes a thousand years!

Ho-humming Jesus (Sunday homily)

So, this is a pretty striking reaction to Jesus.

He is healing people, casting out demons, 

and teaching people about God, offering forgiveness and offering hope.

“And they took offense at him.”

We know this kid, they said; he grew up here. 

We know his family. Who does he think he is? 

Ho-hum, they said.

Their hardness of heart “prevented” Jesus from performing miracles; 

not because he was literally incapable of doing so – 

he is God, he can do what he likes – 

but rather, because there was no point.

The point of his healings and his teaching are the same: 

to open people up to the supernatural life God offers them.

But they were closed off; his miracles would do them no good.

It is shocking to think of people reacting this way.

But let me ask you: if you could have just 5 or ten minutes with Jesus, 

in which he would do for you what he offered those people,

Would you rearrange your schedule to meet with him?

I think a lot of us are saying, of course I would!

So then I ask you: what do you think happens in the confessional?

I know: a lot of people get discouraged because they go to confession, and they don’t get better.

But maybe the sacrament is keeping you from getting worse – 

did you ever consider that?

Saint Therese the Little Flower made a point on this somewhere:

That the reason we don’t quickly overcome our sins 

is because that would lead us to massive spiritual pride, 

which can send us to hell just as easily.

So it is God’s mercy that we spend our lives wrestling with sin, 

rather than one confession and done.

It really is this simple: what do you think happens in confession?

Do you believe Jesus is there, with all his power and his mercy?

Do you believe that? 

For that matter, do you believe the Holy Mass is a miracle?

Because that is what it is.

Actually, two miracles; two miracles happen in every Mass; 

and we all witness them.

The first miracle is that God brings us to Calvary, 

to the Sacrifice that Jesus offered on the Cross.

The Mass is the Cross; the Mass brings us to the Cross.

When you and I are at Mass, we are right there with Jesus.

The second miracle is the change of bread and wine 

into the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity – 

the true, real Presence of Jesus our Lord.

And, now that I think about it, there are three miracles.

The third one is that you and I, 

in receiving the Eucharist in a state of grace – 

meaning, we are not conscious of a mortal sin 

that we have not yet brought to confession…

I say again, when we receive the Eucharist in a state of grace,

we are united with Jesus. We have union with God.

When I say it aloud, it is astounding; it’s shattering.

I can’t help wondering, 

how in the world do we ho-hum these wonders? 

How does it happen? And yet, we do.

I don’t mean you; I mean me.

I stand at this altar, day by day. 

I give out God’s mercy in the confessional, and I’m glad to do it; 

but I confess to you, I am not overwhelmed enough. 

Not nearly enough.

It wasn’t just the hometown neighbors of Jesus who ho-hummed him; 

And by their “yeah, so what?” attitude, closed the door to miracles.

No; it wasn’t just them.

I don’t want to be those people. Do you? Do you?

“Jesus, I dare to ask: break down the barriers, break my heart open!

Please keep me, please keep these your flock, 

from being numbered among those 

about whom you are ‘amazed at their lack of faith.’

Please, Lord, in your mercy, may these words not be said of us. Amen.”

A homily about pornography (without using the word)

 This homily is going to focus on something delicate and not pleasant.

But I’ll use careful wording for the sake of younger ears.

There’s a chronic problem faced by a lot of people around us – 

but very few are ever going to talk about it openly.

And it isn’t just grown-ups; 

it includes a shocking number of our kids, starting in their early teens.

I’m talking about the dark corners of the Internet; 

mainly ugly images and videos, but also, increasingly, online gambling. 

For a lot of people, this isn’t just an occasional thing; it is an addiction.

If this isn’t you, it can be really hard to understand.

How can someone wreck his or her life over alcohol 

or gambling or over dark stuff on the Internet?

What you must understand 

is that this isn’t merely a question of will power.

It isn’t about not praying enough, or some easy trick. It goes deeper.

Partly it’s brain chemistry. 

Something makes me feel good, and for some of us, 

we want it too much.

There’s also an issue of connection – intimacy –

which is a hidden crisis in our times.

If you or I do not have the healthy kind of human connections, 

we are prone to seek out the wrong kind. 

False kinds. Empty connections.

Which means, if we are hooked on the wrong kind,

a big part of the remedy involves seeking more of the healthy kind.

When a lot of us were children, 

we had one phone the whole house shared.

When you talked on the phone, you did in the hall or living room.

And all you could do with your phone was talk.

Most people had one TV, with 3, 4 or wow! Five channels!

So, TV was much more a thing you did with others.

Today, everyone has his or her own telephone;

You can watch TV on it. Alone. You do lots of things. Alone.

A few years ago, 

I talked about the good practice of a “thank you” phone call.

It turns out, some teenagers found calling grandma terrifying.

They knew how to text, not talk.

See how disconnected we have become?

No wonder more of us seek connection in fake and twisted ways online.

Now let’s talk about what happened in the Gospel.

A man comes to Jesus; his daughter is very ill.

What does Jesus say? I will come to her. 

Along the way.

A woman in the crowd reaches out and touches Jesus.

And then, surprisingly, Jesus decides to call her out.

Why not just let her go on her way: she was healed after all.

If you were her, would you want the spotlight to be put on you?

It’s kind of harsh. Why would he do that?

There was something more that woman needed 

than just to have her bleeding problem stopped.

This condition had been humiliating, 

and for 12 years, it separated her from others.

Perhaps this woman felt shame, ugly, unwanted and unloved.

She didn’t just need the medical issue fixed; 

She needed even more for her connection with others to be restored.

To be loved and to know it. That’s the healing the woman needed.

Jesus wasn’t embarrassing her; he was pulling her from the shadows.

Then she told Jesus the whole truth.

One of the most healing things you and I can do, 

when we have something we feel shame about, is to tell someone.

Being alone with that shame gives it so much power.

Remember: what we need is to connect in a healthy, real way.

Jesus wanted that woman to know she wasn’t just a stranger; 

she was family. He called her “daughter.” 

That’s the connection. You are a beloved child of God. And so am I.

Dealing with these habits online: I don’t have all the answers, 

but if you want to talk, and get it out,

we priests are here to listen and not repeat things.

We have a group called “Catholics in Recovery” 

as a place for anyone facing addictive behaviors to start healing.

And no matter what separates you, 

what you think makes you totally outside and unworthy,

is just not big enough that God won’t say to you, 

you are beloved son, you are my beloved daughter.

God created this world to be a place of life.

He made you and me to be “imperishable.”

And he came into the world – becoming one of us –

To raise us back to life.

You are the one to whom Christ is speaking in the Gospel.

You are the child, he says, “is not dead but asleep.”

And to you, his most loved child, he says, “Arise!”

What do Job and the Apostles both discover? (Sunday homily)

Image from: Just a Catholic Blog

Since the Book of Job rarely gets read on Sunday,

This is a chance to fill in some details behind today’s reading.

At the beginning, Job has a good life, 

and he offers prayers and sacrifices to keep it that way.

What do you think? Do you and I ever operate that way?

“I’ve got a good life, so I’ll go to church and God will keep blessing me.”

The risk – for Job and for us – is this:

what happens when Job, or we, lose our good life?

When our health fails or everything goes south, like Job we ask: 

what did I do wrong? Why did this happen to me?

And here we come to something many don’t notice about Job:

He says to God, I want you to come here and tell me what I did wrong.

And God does come and speak to Job!

God agrees, Job did not commit any sin. 

Now we arrive at today’s reading, where God reveals his glory,

And after this, Job falls silent; he no longer has any complaint, 

even though he is still weighed down with pain and grief. 

Why does Job fall silent? What has changed for him?

Job has reached a new relationship with God:

He doesn’t worship from a distance, God is right there.

It isn’t about the good things of life. 

Now Job realizes, knowing God is the treasure.

So, now we jump ahead to Paul’s letter and to the Gospel.

Both Paul, speaking to the Corinthians, 

and the Apostles, speaking to each other,

are grappling with the same question: Who is this Jesus?

And the answer is, he’s the exact same treasure Job discovered.

I almost said what maybe you are thinking right now:

We can’t imagine what it is like to realize, as the Apostles did, 

that the Lord your God is sitting with you in your fishing boat.

But that’s not true! You and I do know what that is like!

Every time you and I come into this church, 

or drive by a Catholic church, we know: Jesus is right here.

So I can walk over here to the tabernacle, 

and I suppose this is about how close he was 

to the Apostles in that storm.

And while the Eucharist is the fullest reality of God present to us, there is more! 

All seven sacraments serve to make God present to us, as in that boat.

And each one of us, by virtue of our baptism, 

our confirmation, and of our maintaining communion with Jesus 

by prayer and seeking holiness, we too make God present to others.

Not the unique full, real presence of the Eucharist, 

but still, something real and powerful in our world.

Saint Paul tells the Corinthians: don’t miss the reality of what we have!

And today, I’m repeating that to you.

And let me say this to our young men:

When I talk to you about being a priest, you may wonder, 

why would I even think about that? Here’s the answer:

Everyone can share Jesus with the world.

Everyone can be as close to Jesus as the Apostles in the boat.

But someone has to take up the unique mission 

of offering the sacrifice of the Mass, 

Of lending your voice to speak absolution, 

freeing us from sins in the sacrament of confession, 

And letting Jesus use your hands to anoint and comfort us in sickness.

Jesus invited the Apostles to that special surrender and he invites you. 

When many of our fellow Christians gather on the Lord’s Day, 

the preacher will give an altar call, 

challenging everyone to wake up to God’s invitation, not later; now! 

That’s kind of what God is doing for Job and again, for the Apostles.

And, let’s face it, we often need the storm to focus their minds.

If you have no storms in your life, thank God!

But that might tempt you to think the invitation isn’t just as urgent.

Meet the One who commands the storms and supplies all we need.

Jesus himself is the treasure.

What to do with terrible sermons

Here are some thoughts that came to me today as I considered the various observations about homilies (or sermons, the terminology isn't all that important):

1. Most bishops, deacons and priests seriously try to offer homilies that are for your benefit.

2. Preparing a homily message, and delivering it, are two distinct challenges that come easier to some; and it isn't merely a matter of training.

3. Many priests and perhaps bishops, face a particular challenge in finding time to do even minimal work in that preparation. Some priests who give homilies without much preparation may be lazy, but I suspect many more find all their time taken up with other things.

4. Preparing a homily that addresses delicate or controversial topics is especially challenging, because it involves, metaphorically, navigating a minefield. Many or most weeks, time or other circumstances may lead a homilist to say, I just can't manage that this week. Rinse and repeat, week after week.

5. Many priests have been encouraged by feedback to be funny, to be entertaining, to be light, as opposed to be substantive and controversial. This comes both from positive and negative feedback.

6. Recognize these last two aspects, combined with the force of habit, for the peril they create: we preachers can get comfortable with, and rationalize, not giving you all that much in our homilies.

7. It may be desirable that the homilist be funny or lively or eloquent or dramatic or animated and profound, and to manage to avoid giving offense, and to avoid any rhetorical sharp elbows or awkward expression; and to do all that in 3 minutes or 90 seconds or with a single sentence. 

But sometimes the job that needs to be done, and the worker doing the job, can't work out that way. Indeed, what you get may, in your judgment, be too...whatever. It might even be what some treat as the worst possible thing: "boring."

8. Before you complain (and I'm not saying you can never complain, but I will ask how you justify complaining to everyone else, but never bothering to address your comments to the one who offered the homily), maybe consider the prior points and perhaps ask: what do I think the homilist hoped to do for any of us, for me in particular, with his message? 

In short, apply charity. Do you actually think the homilist's purpose was to harm you? Even in offending, perhaps deliberately, was it to *harm* -- or to save? 

9. Somewhere along the way, before you say or do anything at all, you might ask: "How can I help?"

10. And along the way, ask: how much merit does my grievance really have? 

Actually misrepresenting the Faith, or the facts, in a serious way, is seriously bad, as is a serious and deliberate lack of charity toward anyone. My guess is, most of the complaints people offer don't rise to this level. No, the usual complaints are, "too long," "too boring" or "not that again!" 

If you really cannot find anything else of merit in the homily (and I've listened to homilies that were a struggle for me to find much treasure!) there remains this: your suffering, such as it is, can be purgatory for you and how precious is that!

What do you think of these quick observations?

God doesn't care... (Sunday homily)

God doesn’t care about big and little.

Being the biggest kid at school or the strongest country in the world.

This doesn’t impress him.

And saying, “I’m too old,” or “I’m too young,” or “I don’t know enough,” 

aren’t excuses that cut any ice with God.

This business of saying that human life doesn’t matter 

when it’s too early or too small: 

Well, we humans who determine value by money or power or size, 

find it easy to devalue early human life. But what does God say?

God doesn’t care about big or little.

An awful lot of change has happened in this world — 

both for bad and for good – 

through people who didn’t listen when others said, “who are you?”

Marx - who are you?

Saint Paul – who are you?

Martin Luther King - who are you?

Mother Theresa – who are you?

God doesn’t care about little or big…except when it comes to virtue.

No matter what age you are, or how limited your abilities, 

you can be rich in courage and justice, chastity and generosity.

Consider Father Maximilian Kolbe. He was a Polish priest, 

his country conquered in six weeks in World War II, 

and he was thrown into the notorious death camp Auschwitz.

Every day he saw proof that he and everyone else imprisoned

were nothing to their captors;

and he had to know he would die,

and that he was powerless to prevent it.

Father Maximilian had serious health problems even beforehand.

He was a brilliant scholar, but what did that count for now?

How insignificant, how nothing, he might have felt!

Yet he planted a tiny seed of generosity: 

he stepped forward to take the place of another prisoner 

marked for death.

That man – Franciszek Gajowniczek – 

survived Auschwitz, and was in St. Peter’s Square in Rome 

when Pope John Paul II declared Maximilian Kolbe a saint!

But understand – and right here is the practical takeaway 

for each of us – that the courage and ability to deny oneself 

that Maximilian had in that hour didn’t just show up.

It began when he was a boy learning the habit of virtue: 

of choosing prayer, kindness, chastity and generosity.

And while on this subject: a lot of people don’t get 

why chastity or self-denial matter all that much. 

Here’s the answer: the capacity to say no to what my body says 

is super-duper urgent, right now, is directly proportional 

to being able to say YES to putting others first.

I never witnessed my father making any heroic sacrifices 

like St. Maximilian – at least, I didn’t think so; 

until, as a man, I reflected on how my dad 

almost never seemed to be sick. But of course he was!

What he did, however, was still get out of bed and go to work.

Chastity and temperance form that virtue of self-gift in us.

No matter who you are, how small or young you are, 

or if you think, I’m too old, it’s too late for me:

While you have breath, 

it is not too late to become greater in virtue,

Which is the only thing that really matters 

both in this life and in eternity. 

Today is not too late to say to Jesus:

Please plant that seed of courage, of faith, in me;

As small as I am, I will give all I can to make it grow, 

even if all I have is just today.

Doubling back to South Dakota

In my account of my recent travels, I realize I never talked about visiting either the Crazy Horse Memorial, or Mount Rushmore. And what happened was that I didn't have any pictures worth sharing. The few I took didn't turn out well.

So, doubling back...

My first stop, midday Tuesday, was the Crazy Horse Memorial. This is amazing. I don't have time to tell the whole story, but you can look it up. Some details I will highlight:

- The organizers want to create a city there, made up of a university and a museum as well as the memorial. All three exist in embryonic form, but not finished.

- They said they won't take federal dollars because they don't trust the feds to honor the plan.

- The statue being carved out of the mountain will take a very long time to complete. It began in the 40s, and only the head and the upper part of Crazy Horse's arm is complete. I didn't see an estimate of how long it will take, but perhaps not even 100 years will be enough. The sculptor -- whose grandchildren are working on it now! -- laughed in the film that is shown, saying, so what? Time is relative!

- There's a lot more to see in the museum, and there were young ladies giving presentations in Native American dance and music; I left my hat in my car and so couldn't sit too long in the sun, and I wanted to move on to Mount Rushmore. In any case, I actually spent more time at Crazy Horse than with the four presidents.

Onto Mt. Rushmore...

It's striking how the planners arranged it; you don't really see the famous images until you have parked and ascended the stairs and entered through a grand passageway; then, there they are!

I didn't even bother taking photos of the mountain! You can find better images online. When I arrived, I was still a little sun-weary so I sat in a shady spot, both to contemplate the mountain, and to watch the people. It was like a little UN; there were bikers wearing Harley-Davidson gear whose native language seemed to be German! I couldn't help laughing as a dad patiently tried to get his kids to cooperate with a photograph.

There are displays on the story behind the famous sculptures, but I was already familiar with it, and at any rate, I was worn out. What I didn't know, but learned at the prior stop, was that the sculptor who gave his life to dynamiting Crazy Horse out of a mountain, worked first for the scultor at nearby Mt. Rushmore. 

Also something to keep in mind, if you visit: there is an ampitheater at the foot of the mountain, and at night (every night?) there is a lighting ceremony; if I'd done my homework, I might have planned to be there for that. But I arrived around 3 pm, and didn't want to hang around for six hours, nor did I want to return. But I bet that would be cool to see.

OK, that's a wrap!

Wrapping up the adventure

This morning I'll drive home. I'm outside Madison, Wisconsin, dreading driving anywhere near Chicago, because the traffic is always terrible; but alternative routes don't look promising.

Last night I visited with a friend from my days in Washington, it was great catching up with her.

Here are some remaining photos and narrative. Below is the Chalet Motel in Custer, South Dakota. A blast from the past. I carefully checked the reviews before booking, because it could have been a nightmare; in fact, it was very nice. My room opened into a tiny, shaded courtyard, so I enjoyed having a cold drink after arriving, before heading out for dinner.

Custer has buffalo statues all over town, variously decorated:

My next stop was Wall Drug. Honestly, I could care less; however, I figured people would ask, and be shocked if I said I didn't stop. So I stopped, looked around for five minutes, and drove on. The ubiquitous signs along the highway promise free ice water and five cent coffee, and free donuts for honeymooners. 

Also along I-90 is a Minuteman Missile National Historic Site! So I headed there next. When I arrived, all I found was a lavatory facility and a parking lot, with a few cars, and some explanatory signs. Nothing else. Upon reading the signs, I discovered the facility is actually three sites, spread over several miles. About eight miles to the west was the actual missile silo, which is really what I wanted to see. Several miles ahead was the "visitor's center." Where I arrived was the former command center; that is, where the military personnel remained on duty, all the time, just in case the order ever came. Here's that command center, across the road from the toilets:

There was no way I was driving back west for the silo, so I pressed on across South Dakota. If there are any Dakotans reading, please explain why there were all these little black bugs everywhere. I am sure I brought a lot of their carcasses back on the front grill of my car, along with cicadas and assorted other fauna from 12 states. The front of my car is insect armageddon; it got so bad before a rainstorm the other day that it attract flies! I thought about taking a picture; however I am too lazy to figure out how to blur out my license plate.

My stop for the night was Sioux Falls. Here is an arch over the river:

And I discovered an Italian restaurant just steps from the hotel, the R Wine Bar. I am extremely skeptical and picky about Italian restaurants; very, very few are anything like authentic. This place blew me away. I ordered a Caprese Salad, some beef and mushroom ragu on polenta, and a creme brulee for dessert. Now, I'm not saying it was all exactly like in Italy, but it was the best I've had in an Italian restaurant since visiting Italy; of course, a second or third try might have disillusioned me. Anyway, here is the Caprese (and no, it didn't come this way; I started to eat it before I decided to take a picture):

Yesterday morning, I scudded across the southern edge of Minnesota and into Wisconsin, the landscape becoming extremely familiar, a process that began once I crossed the mighty Missouri; on the eastern bank of the even mightier Mississippi, geographically, I'm home. Last night, my friend and I met a restaurant that was fairly well hidden on the water side of an apartment building. In a few minutes, I'll set out for gasoline and home.

Day 10: Across the Plains

This morning I'm in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and my next stop is outside Madison, Wisconsin, where I'll be able to visit with a friend from my political days who I haven't seen in several years. And I have good wifi, and I have some time, so I'll try to catch things up.

Let's post some pictures, starting with Grand Teton National Park:

If you go, be aware there are two routes that go roughly north-south, one on the east side of the Snake River, which gave me the view above, and then another drive on the west side. I drove down the east side of the river to Jackson Hole -- which was very prosperous, very touristy and very crowded -- and then found my way up the other side of the river, which gave even more spectacular views. Also, if you are so inclined, you can hike in these mountains.

It was about this spot, as I recall, I stopped to pray Midmorning Prayer, which included this from Psalm 121: "I lift up my eyes to the mountains, from where shall come my help? My help shall come from the Lord, who made heaven and earth."

While in the Grand Teton area, I espied a sign for "Chapel of the Transfiguration" but didn't turn off. When I saw this chapel -- on the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart! -- I took that as a divine nudge.

I spent about six hours driving around this park, and then drove north to Yellowstone. I passed through and then went eastward toward my lodging for the next two days. Friday night, I found this place for dinner, just a few miles down the road:

As you can read, this place claims to be Buffalo Bill Cody's "original hunting lodge," which I do not dispute. The barroom below, where I ate, isn't actually in the original building, which is nearby and not public. If you look closely, you'll see lots of animal heads on the walls, and a chandelier which the bartender claims includes buffalo skin and you can see also includes intricate metal work. He and another patron (who I'll describe more presently) asserted various high values to the chandelier.

Here was my first course, a Martini and Rocky Mountain oysters. I'd never had them. Delicious!

It was fun sitting here, listening to and observing the other guests. The bartender was from Alabama -- I guessed because who else would have an Alabama scrimmage game on TV? The gentlemen with the white hair turned out to be a resident at Pahaska (Cody's Indian name), and he explained, in a roundabout way, that he dresses up as Cody and if I wanted to see that, come back the next day around 8:30 am. I was tempted, but I wanted to get to the park.

This was hung in the corner, I'm guessing also made from buffalo hide. 

I apologize in advance for my pictures -- not enough and not very good. However, you can find excellent photographs of Yellowstone online, and for me, it takes a great deal of trouble to shoot and then edit the pictures. I confess: I'm too lazy. 

Here is Old Faithful geyser, seen from a covered porch nearby. To my right is a very fine lodge, where I snagged a sandwich to go.

There are a number of spots where you can view hot springs, bubbling and steaming. They are slightly ominous reminders that this whole park sits on the mouth of a temporarily dormant volcano.

I met a ranger here who has worked at the park for over 50 years -- he was in his 80s! -- and he described the Dragon's Mouth spring as one that changes constantly, sometimes erupting more forcefully, and the rock ceiling periodically drops large chunks of rock.

And, lest there be any confusion: that bubbling, steaming stuff is terribly hot and terribly poisonous. When visiting the West Thumb geysers, I overheard a mom say, "OK, that's enough about farts."

Here are the falls at the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. There were several places to stop to view this canyon.

Here are photos of Mammoth Springs, which was my last stop before heading north. This is a mountain of travertine, formed over many years by water pouring forth and causing the limestone buildup. Follow the link above for details. I thought I had more striking photos, sorry! Feel free to mention in your Yelp Review.

Before I wrap up Yellowstone, I will add this observation. At various points, the landscape here made me think of The Lord of the Rings. The poisonous landscape above? Mordor. But lots of other sights were more like the Elven realms and the Misty Mountains. I can't say I discovered Hobbiton.

When I got to Livingston, Montana, I went into town for dinner. As the sun skimmed the horizon, I caught this sight. It reminded me of the alternate history section of "It's A Wonderful Life."

The restaurant I visited, called the Mint, had this vending machine near the men's room. This was a reminder of my childhood! My father's business -- which supported our family -- involved delivering lots of candy and, yes, cigarettes, to golf clubs and swim clubs, and also maintaining lots of vending machines at various locations, including the Cincinnati Post building downtown, and all around the University of Cincinnati. He had a lot of machines exactly like this:

This broken down wagon was outside my hotel in Gillette, Wyoming. 

Here are pictures from Little Bighorn (oops, this may get me banned from Facebook again!). This is the Native American monument, with a cut-out oriented toward the nearby memorial to Custer and his men, on the spot where they made their last stand.

At various points around the battlefield, markers indicate where individual warriors -- either from the Indian Nations or the U.S. forces -- fell. The U.S. markers are in the usual limestone white; these are red as you can see. 

Here is Custer National Cemetery. Although I didn't verify it, this includes far more than those who died at the battle. There is a smaller cemetery on the hill that was the last redoubt of Custer and his men; and there is a section marked where the soldiers horses fell; the men killed them in order to create some measure of defensive ramparts, to no avail.

I'm afraid I don't recall just where this was, but it was on the road from Little Bighorn to Custer, where I stayed after visiting the Crazy Horse Monument and Mount Rushmore.

This is a sod house, re-built by some of the students from the town:

The jail, which made me think of the old Cincinnati Workhouse, where my mother warned me, I'd end up if I didn't change my ways.

I've got to hit the road for Wisconsin, I'll try to catch things up further soon.