Beacons of Light: How do I stop it (from bringing bad)?

In a number of parishes, there is great anxiety and frustration about how the "Beacons of Light" reorganization and evangelization-preparation plan is unfolding. Folks are alarmed at the prospect of their particular parish-corporation* being on track to be merged into a new, larger parish-corporation, with several parish churches all part of one legal entity.

I've tried to explain at length that for pastors -- who are tasked with administering multiple parish-corporations, embracing multiple churches and communities of people -- it is almost certainly necessary to replace separate legal structures with a combined one, along with combining staffs and other parts of the operation, such as key commissions and programs, or else those pastors will fail. They will either fail through impossible exertion, or through neglect, or through silent, unseen abdication. Note this: any of these outcomes means that the person you assume is doing a key job, is not doing it. The harm done will be invisible until it suddenly comes into view, and you, the people of the parish, will be hit the hardest.

So, however much you may prefer the status quo -- your particular parish community and parish-corporation stands alone -- that is no longer possible once your parish (people, corporation and buildings) share a pastor with another parish (people, corporation and buildings). And you can want to have another priest arrive to be pastor, or you can hope that someday, lay administrators will replace pastors, but until then, once two or more parishes (people, corporation and buildings) share a single pastor, the status quo you want no longer exists. At that point, you can either have a good handling of this sharing, or a bad handling of it. But there will be sharing.

Still, I get that people are concerned. They don't trust any promises; and there are no guarantees (hint: there weren't before Beacons, by the way). Many people respond simply by protesting, organizing petition drives, hoping to stall the project. Many people are circulating very dark explanations, which only makes things worse. Certainly people have the right to know, the right to ask (ask a lot, I say!), and they can speak out in opposition, but I reiterate: the status quo you want -- your particular parish-community, parish-buildings and parish-corporations to stand alone -- is gone, once you share a pastor with another parish (community/building/corporation). The pastor and those assisting him will either lead well, or poorly, and however cooperative and open to change folks are, will make almost all the difference in whether it goes well...or poorly.

(To be clear: I don't take the position that Beacons is ideal or perfectly executed. I was critical at an earlier stage. I wish it had never been necessary. I'm not blind to negatives. But this is what we have, and the problems to which it is a response are REAL.)

So what can you do, if you are concerned? What do I recommend?

Well, not to belabor the point, but certainly you can resist. The faithful have far more power than many realize. You can withhold your time, your contributions and your presence. You can do a lot to slow things down and make the whole process painful. And don't misunderstand me: sometimes those are exactly the right things to do. I will leave it to you to contemplate how productive that will be.

I do caution you to consider that there is a very real chance that the fate you fear is made more likely by such resistance. If any of the parish-corporations that had stood alone (but is now being included into planned, larger corporation) has limited resources -- money and people in particular -- then delaying tactics probably won't help the future of that beloved community and church. It isn't that complicated: if facilities are not being cared for, and funds and the people who contribute them are slipping away, do you really think standing aloof gives the most hope for the future? Wouldn't two things -- sharing resources and shifting as soon and as fully as possible to evangelization (i.e., refilling the pews and coffers) -- be the obvious best move? You do realize those two things I bolded above, are what Beacons is all about?

So what can you do?

1. Ask questions -- that is, of actual decision-makers and those directly involved (as opposed to others who have the same questions you do). I do what I can to answer questions for folks in other families of parishes, but I can't speak for their pastors. 

2. Read more. Some people say they have read everything and aren't satisfied. I believe at least some people have done that; I suspect most have not. I also buy that in many places, not enough information has been shared; but again, if you haven't read all that is available, at least part of it is on you. And, if you say you don't have time to read more, attend more meetings, or otherwise get more involved, that's understandable, I'm not saying that's your fault, but that's not someone else's fault. If you make a choice to focus energy elsewhere, that is, indeed, a choice you've made.

3. Be constructive. If you can't have the "good old days," then spell out what you think the "not-so-bad new days" look like. It's so easy to complain and criticize; it's a lot harder to have to propose a solution. Once you put your proposal next to someone else's, it can become clearer why you got the proposals you did. "Huh! Now I see how we ended up here."

4. Discuss with the pastor and others in lay leadership what structures would give you confidence -- and be prepared to give when you see what you asked for.

In my family of parishes, our priests and lay leadership are all committed to maintaining as many options as we reasonably can for programs, for religious education, for our youth, for adult faith formation, the whole shebang. Our staff is identifying a long list of deferred maintenance, and before too long, everyone will see the list, and together, will develop a plan. But of course, it will all need parishioner support. Wouldn't repairing and improving parish facilities particularly beloved to you be an outcome you would want strongly?

Here's another thing we are going to do: create funds for each of our campuses, for our school, and a general fund, and we will encourage folks to put their money where they wish. They can do that now, with legally separate parish-corporations; the point of these funds is to safeguard donors' wishes after the three parish-corporations become one parish-corporation. If there are funds available for the maintenance of each campus, doesn't that make the future for those particular buildings, and the people who love them, more secure?

Look, if someone has an alternative that doesn't involve asking pastors to helm multiple parishes, in order to maintain the illusion those parishes (corporation/people/buildings) are actually standing alone even when they are not, I'm all ears. (Repeat: once multiple parishes share a pastor indefinitely, they are no longer "on their own" even if you think they are.) 

But all I've seen so far is either denial, or blame, or expecting pastors to do the impossible (while not grasping that what they want actually is impossible -- which I've tried to explain; read earlier posts), or else some version of parishes being neglectfully pastored, or else actually lay-administered. 

If what you want is a new attempt at trusteeism, at least be open about advocating it. I don't believe anyone actually wants parishes run neglectfully; I just think people are in denial about how often that happens, because the damage isn't obvious till later, so cause-and-effect is hard to see. Sometimes the most neglectful pastors are very popular!

* A note on verbiage: the term "parish" can mean different things to most people, either the people, the buildings -- particularly the church -- and the legal corporation that is associated with the first two meanings. To avoid confusion, I'll use terms like "parish-people," "parish-corporation" and "parish church" to be as clear as possible.

Today's guest homilist: the Archbishop

Archbishop Schnurr provided a recorded homily to be played everywhere in the Archdiocese, regarding the upcoming November ballot measure, imposing abortion-on-demand in Ohio.

If the link doesn't work, go here and scroll down.

Beacons of Light: it's not for more priests golfing

Image credit: www.victoriaadvocate.com

Maybe I should ignore it, but I pick up on comments posted on social media about Beacons of Light -- the current, ongoing project by the Archdiocese of Cincinnati to reorganize things -- and about my own remarks about Beacons on this blog.

Here are some I saw recently:

- Parents don't get a day off.

- It's about making life easier for priests.

So, let's deal with these. It is true, parents don't get a "day off" from being parents. Do they never get a day off from work? What's the difference? Bonus if you can explain it in the comments.

Keeping this distinction in mind, priests likewise never get a "day off" either. We don't ever stop being a priest; and while there are always exceptions, the vast majority of priests I know fit this description: we will respond as quickly as we can to every emergency, we will give time generously to the needs of our children, and it doesn't matter what day or hour. 

So why even make the comment, "parents don't get a day off"? What's the real point here?

Do you begrudge a priest catching up on sleep, or being able to rest? Why? I don't begrudge parents doing this. And does it occur to you that a priest having time to relax might actually be good for parishioners?

I get that an infant will keep parents up all night; I also know that at some point, they stop being infants, and at some point, parents will take measures to teach older children, they don't get to interrupt mom and dad, or wake them up, for less than urgent reasons. Am I out of step here? Parents of teens, do you allow your kids to interrupt and wake you, any hour, for any reason? You don't claim time to rest?

(In case it isn't clear, my point here is that -- according to the family analogy, and the, "parents don't get a day off" remark -- it remains true that a priest, like a parent, can reasonably be true to his parental duties, and yet, rest. Am I wrong?)

Is this really about making things easier for priests? Let's suppose, for the sake of argument, that that's exactly right. Easier for us...why? What do you imagine we priests, who are craftily pulling the strings on Beacons of Light, to make things easier, are going to do once we succeed?

This is a serious question. What do you suppose we are going to do with all the time we gain by these changes?

Let me be as blunt and plain as I can be. If all I wanted out of all the work we're doing in the three parishes where I've been assigned, is to "make it easier" for me, I could do that without any of the Beacons of Light changes! That's right: I could make my life easier without any of it!

How?

By becoming an absentee or figurehead pastor. I could very easily rubber-stamp almost everything; cut pastoral initiatives to a minimum, and let staff and volunteers go along with only minimal involvement from me. The principal and the teachers and school board handle everything in the school -- I'll just wave as I walk by. Same for the religious education and youth activities; our staff and volunteers are very capable. 

I can easily flip through the financial documents I am responsible for reviewing; chances are, there's not anything problematic going on, and anyway, someone else can catch that. I can have a literal rubber-stamp created in order to sign checks, and why do I need to review the checks and underlying documents anyway? Just sign and pass along. Very easy to do. 

My life can be so much easier if I don't launch any efforts at evangelization; or for adult-faith-formation; or long-term planning; or encouraging greater involvement and engagement, so that people don't drift away. 

As far as our staff, I can just let them do as they think best, providing very minimal oversight. Ongoing evaluation and encouragement of employees is time-consuming but usually very important to any organization. Either I can just let things go, or else I can always hire someone to do it all and I won't do anything. I'll be a figurehead and life will be so easy!

Holy Mass can be very taxing, not just physically, but even spiritually, for a priest, because he is uniting himself with the Cross. If you insist the priest must offer three or four Masses each Sunday, and two or more times daily, there are ways to manage this. Pro-forma homilies. Easy! Run through Mass as quick as possible. Do the minimum. And when Sunday Masses are finished, I'll be finished for the day. I can let someone else attend other activities.

In fact, I could easily arrange it that, in effect, I am not in charge except on paper; I could, effectively, be merely a sacramental employee. Other people will hire and evaluate, and where needed, provide discipline to, staff. Other people will decide on budget priorities, I need not say a word about it. 

A lot of it can all be put on auto-pilot. It would make my life so much easier, for the next several years, till I reach 70 and I can retire from administration and then let someone else take up the task.

So I ask you again. Supposing this all really is about "making it easier for priests," why do you suppose that is? What do you think priests are going to do with their "easier life" when the plan works?

Do you want a job? (Sunday homily)

In case it isn’t obvious, our Lord’s parables are on one level, 

very plain in meaning; almost too much so. 

It’s very tempting to listen and nod and say, “got it,” and move on.

But stop and think: do you suppose he didn’t know that?

The Gospel emphasizes, “he spoke this to his disciples.”

That is, he wasn’t speaking to a mass of curious onlookers, 

but to that smaller group of those 

who had been drawn by grace to begin to believe in him; 

and who spent a great deal of time with him.

This means not only the Twelve Apostles, 

but also a larger group of men and women 

including his own mother, Mary Magdalene, 

and others we might mention. 

In the days after the Resurrection, according to Acts chapter one, 

this group was about 120 people.

And, we know from several places in the Gospels, 

that there were people who followed for a while, 

but later turned away.

So they’re listening to this parable, same as you.

On a surface level, it’s so simple. 

Be content with your reward, no good can come from envy.

So what if the Lord gets some last-minute converts; 

how does that hurt you or me?

But let’s hit the pause button, and let me ask you: 

are you a hired day worker? 

Is that who you are to Jesus? Is that who any of us is?

If you have a farm, and it’s harvest time, 

It’s all hands on deck, especially if the crop is perishable.

But you can distinguish two groups working side-by-side. 

Those who are hired for a wage, 

and those who are the family, whose farm it is.

When I was a boy, one time my father asked me to do a job.

And I was at the age where I started to get a little mouthy.

And I said, “what will I get paid?”

I remember my dad smiling a little, and discussing that.

But then, after we’d settled on pay, he said, 

“Hold on. There are some other items.”

And he went on to talk about rent, and food, 

and utilities, and insurance; 

if I wanted things to be on a business basis, 

I had to pay my full share.

I blanched, and my dad very graciously let me back up, 

and be part of the family, rather than a hired worker.

But even that wasn’t the full lesson.

It was some time later – and this moment comes for us all –

when we realize, the true reward isn’t the home, the hot showers, 

the air conditioning, the full refrigerator. No!

The reward was and is my father, my mother, my family!

And, yes, our family life isn’t always happy.

I’m not trying to paper over the harsher parts of the picture.

But what do you suppose Jesus is inviting you and me into?

Are we not being welcomed into his family?

Would you really rather just be hired for the day?

The Justice Plan and the Mercy Plan (Sunday homily)

 So: what our Lord Jesus said is crystal clear. 

Let’s talk about forgiveness. It comes up all the time: 

people say, “Oh, it is so hard to forgive.” 

Of course it is hard. That’s the point.

Now, let’s be clear what forgiveness is and is not. 

Forgiveness does not mean that the wrong didn’t happen; 

or that what happened, wasn’t wrong.

Nor does it mean you have to pretend.

It doesn’t even mean you have to like that person.

Finally, forgiveness doesn’t mean 

there’s no accountability or recompense.

Forgiveness simply means you are letting go of that person 

and giving him or her to God. 

Let God take care of justice and repayment.

Forgiveness isn’t a feeling; it is a choice. 

Think of the person who chooses to give up smoking. 

She knows she did the right thing, 

but what does she feel? 

At any time, she may feel grumpy or irritated or even regretful.

But those are feelings, they come and go.

So, how do we forgive? 

Here are some things that might help us get there.

First, ask God for the grace to forgive. 

And I mean, more than once. Ask, ask and ask again.

You and I can’t do it on our own; we can’t do anything on our own. 

This is a humbling truth we may take a lifetime to learn. 

Do you think you need God’s help only now and then?

This is a good time to remember something 

the American author Flannery O’Connor demonstrated in her stories;

namely, that God’s grace isn’t always pleasant. 

It may not make you feel good.

But God’s grace will always bring you closer to him.

Remember: the purest expression of grace is the Cross!

A second point: if you want the power to forgive, 

pray for the people who hurt you. 

Again: not just once, but over and over.

Alcoholics Anonymous has a saying, “Act is if.” That’s how you start. 

A third point: if you want the grace to forgive, think about hell. 

That’s right; think about hell.

I suspect a lot of people don’t take hell seriously.

They figure only people like Hitler go there, that’s it.

The trouble is, Jesus certainly takes hell seriously,

and he is always warning ordinary people like us about hell.

A priest friend of mine sometimes poses this question: 

try to imagine the first ten seconds in hell. What would that be like? 

Let’s try (count to ten).

When you and I refuse to forgive, we are wishing that on that person.

Right? Because you don’t want him or her to be forgiven? 

That means wishing those people in hell. 

Or, do you mean you want God to forgive, while you refuse? 

That means you want God and that person to be at peace, 

but you don’t want to be part of it? 

Then that means you are sending yourself to hell. 

If you want to go to heaven, 

and you want those other people to go to heaven, 

then our grudges and hurts can’t go to heaven. 

See, God has two plans for humanity. 

He offers the Justice Plan, and the Mercy Plan,

and they are both on display in this Gospel. 

What’s the Justice Plan?

That’s where each of us is measured by strict justice; 

no excuses, no mulligans, no leeway. We get precisely what we deserve. 

So, if you have wronged no one, 

committed no sin, and you have a perfect score, 

you can apply for the Justice Plan.

Don’t like that? No problem. God also offers the Mercy Plan. 

God will forgive: absolutely anything and everything. 

That first servant owed a debt that, in today’s dollars, 

would be in the BILLIONS. Wiped away.

But there is a condition: to gain the Mercy Plan,

you and I must apply the Mercy Plan to everyone else, 

without exception. 

Not because it’s easy, not because they deserve it, 

not because they are good enough, 

not for just certain categories,

and no, not even only if they ask for it. They don’t have to ask for it!

It is Jesus, the Supreme Judge, who commands it. 

You want mercy? Give mercy, even to your enemies.

In a moment, in our presence, 

the Sacrifice of Mercy will be offered on this altar – 

you and I will witness it! – and then we will have the opportunity 

to receive Mercy: that is, Jesus’ Body and Blood. 

And if we receive the Eucharist, that is accepting the Mercy Plan. 

You want Mercy? Give it. That’s the deal.

Who is the watchman? (Sunday homily)

This Gospel passage reminds us that in following Jesus 

there is a social dimension. 

It isn’t just Jesus and me; it’s Jesus and US.

Both aspects – the personal and the social – need emphasis.

First, let’s talk about the personal.

As you and I grow into adulthood, 

we gradually transition from being “along for the ride,” with our family, 

to where we start thinking in terms of our own personal commitment. 

That tends to happen in our teen years, into our early 20s.

If you are in that age group, I’m speaking to you, right now.

When I was 19, I had a moment where I woke up to my faith, 

and I remember thinking, why hadn’t anyone challenged me?

The truth is, I had been given the challenge, but I hadn’t listened – 

till I was ready to.

So now, I’m giving you that challenge. 

Wake up! Jesus is real, and he invites you – 

you, not the people around you, you – 

to know him, be close to him, 

to take the driver’s seat in your own faith life.

And if you think, great, but I need help with that!

You’re right, and that’s actually something we all need.

But again, speaking to our teens and young adults,

There are a variety of opportunities in our parishes for you.

And if you don’t find it, call me. Email me. I will get you connected.

And that leads to the other point, 

about the social dimension to our Faith 

Our society stresses individualism, 

and each of us jealously guards our own ability to choose. 

As we all should know, there will be a ballot measure this November; 

and the word “choice” is used to defend the indefensible.

There’s a certain mindset that has a surface appeal:

Everyone does whatever he or she wants, to each his own.

For some things in life, that makes sense.

But at a certain point, it becomes an abdication:

It can really mean, I don’t have to care about you. You’re on your own. 

As to this ballot measure, voting for it would mean 

repealing even limited protection for unborn children’s lives,

and for vulnerable women from being pressured 

into a decision they’ll regret their entire lives.

The first reading talked about a “watchman.” Who is that?

Sometimes it’s a parent, or a pastor, or government;

But underneath it all is the duty each of us has 

to watch out for each other, as one human family.

People say, “am I my brother’s keeper?” 

forgetting that God’s answer to that question is, 

yes, we are!

This principle of social responsibility 

is woven deep in our Catholic faith. 

One of the things pagan Romans said about Christians 

in the early centuries was, look how they care for one another. 

And not just for fellow Christians, but for everyone, 

especially the most vulnerable.

There are times when justice – 

not merely as our government measures it, but as God measures it – 

demands more from us than just good conduct person-to-person.

For example, God’s Justice says 

that the good things of the world He created 

are intended for the benefit of everyone. 

And, those who have been left behind – in education, 

in opportunity, in material things – deserve special attention.

Our social concern leads us to personal action –

Individually, and our parishes, 

support many activities aimed at helping people in need 

and advocating for change –

and sometimes it calls for political action.

I already mentioned the referendum in November.

Here’s another example: the question of immigration. 

It’s a complex subject. 

There are at least two valid principles at play.

First, that a nation has the right to control its borders.

Second, we are our brother’s keeper.

So, how do you and I balance those? 

It’s not easy, 

and good, reasonable people can reach different answers.

What we can say is this: 

it is certainly a wrong approach, from a Catholic perspective, 

to leave aside those starting principles entirely. 

So, yes, while caring for one another requires good laws, 

that doesn’t keep each of us from doing what we can individually.

If you want to give extra help to those struggling economically?

Be a generous tipper at restaurants. 

You and your family can make casseroles for hungry people; 

And there are so many ways to volunteer our time.

Watch the bulletin for details.

And if you can’t find a way to make a difference, 

contact Jennifer Zwiers, our new Director of Care. 

This is her job: to help our family of parishes 

give the best support we can to those in need;

to be the watchman for one another as Christ calls us.

What is intimacy? (Sunday homily)

 That first reading is surprising:

Do you and I talk to God this way?

“You duped me!” I am miserable because of You!

If you think about it, that’s a conversation

between two who are very close.

That’s intimacy.

“Intimate” means what is most personal and private;

what is closest to who we really are.

So “intimacy” is sharing that with someone else;

it’s when we feel free and safe doing that.

Jeremiah felt free and safe to yell at God!

Now, “intimacy” is often used to describe

a physical relationship: acts pertaining to marriage.

But if we primarily associate intimacy with those physical acts,

that can lead to some big misunderstandings.

Where does that leave a close friendship, or the intimacy of siblings, 

or the closeness we want to have with our parents or children?

What about intimacy with God – 

as Jeremiah had, and as the Apostles were drawn into by Jesus?

This is a point I make with couples when they are engaged.

Our society takes for granted that a couple will get pretty physical.

Waiting till marriage may sound like an outmoded idea,

but the danger is that focusing on one aspect 

can cause many other important but boring issues to be neglected, 

which are the broader dimensions of true intimacy.

Discovering each other’s values and hopes, 

with questions like, do you want children? How many?

What are your religious and spiritual priorities?

If we go to different churches, how will we deal with that?

What about money, budgeting, credit?

All these different threads, if woven together, 

make a marriage so much stronger; 

and if neglected, there will unhappiness later.

When you think about it, it’s obvious that intimacy 

in the truest sense goes so far beyond the physical. 

It’s a sharing of all that matters most.

This experience is what is nourishing and life-giving, 

both in our friendships and our families,

 and of course, all this is a reflection of the intimacy 

we can have with God, who is our source and our hope.

I submit there is a crisis of intimacy in our time.

Many people report not really having close friendships.

Sustaining this intimacy is a huge issue in married life.

And although I can’t prove it, I suspect this intimacy deficit

is behind so many problems in our time, from drugs to young people 

feeling alienated from society and even from their own bodies.

If that’s true, then one way you and I can make a difference 

is almost too simple: form and deepen those relationships – 

with friends, with your spouse, with your children, and with God.

Look at what’s happening in the Gospel. 

Jesus is drawing the Apostles, Peter in particular, into intimacy.

Notice the Lord shares the “inside story” of his plan for saving us, 

and he describes how it will involve a terrible cost: his own life. 

Peter draws back, he isn’t ready for that.

But Jesus insists:

If you want to know me, walk with me, this is the path.

What he says to Peter, he says to you and me:

You can’t know Christ without his Cross.

Intimacy isn’t just about good stuff, the fun stuff,

without the deeper stuff, without pain and cost.

It is risky, it is costly; but is it worth it? You tell me.

Is it worth it having a close friend, a life-partner,

having that place of trust and safety?

This points to the true heart of the Gospel, the part many miss.

Our Faith isn’t just a series of beliefs.

Jesus comes to welcome us to intimacy 

only a Creator and creature can have. 

This is where personal prayer and time with God is essential.

And reconciliation and working things out in confession.

At a certain point, there are no shorter short-cuts.

Nothing is more personal. 

And no one can do it for you. 

You must respond to his invitation yourself.

Out of the shallows (Sunday homily)

 In the second reading, Saint Paul realizes—

and he is awed by the thought—

that God’s Plan for saving the human race will come to pass,

despite all that seems to stand in the way.

Consider: in this year of our Lord 2023,

Christians are spread throughout the world;

Over one billion Catholics,

another billion other Christians.

The Church is growing rapidly in Asia and Africa.

While Christians continue to be persecuted to this day,

we have parishes and schools,

universities, and hospitals, endowments,

seminaries and religious orders.

Sure, we have plenty of problems, but compare our situation to Paul’s.

When Paul wrote these words,

the number of Christians, everywhere,

was in the thousands—

spread thin from Rome to Jerusalem.

Some were wealthy, most were dirt-poor – many were slaves.

They met in secret; they were despised and hunted.

How often, we fear and wring our hands;

Paul, in his time, said: to God be glory forever!

It’s all about perspective.

It has been a while, but sometimes I visit people in jail.

As I was about to give an inmate the Eucharist, I said,

this is a dark place, you have lost so much;

but I’m about to give you the Body and Blood of the Lord.

His flesh and blood, united to yours.

You will be Christ in this place!

And no one can take that away from you!

We believe in and experience Christ’s presence here…

In jail, you really feel His Power there!

To witness such moments

makes me so grateful I am a priest.

Here’s the challenge for us:

Do you and I have to be behind bars before we experience this?

Shall we wait till we lose our jobs, our health, our homes,

before we can know this gratitude and peace in the Lord?

While hard times often “force” us

out of the shallows, and into the depth,

even so, the opportunity to enter the Deep

is always before us.

The tools you and I have are so powerful – if we use them.

A daily routine of prayer, it doesn’t have to be a burden.

Examining our conscience regularly, and regular confession.

Pray the Rosary. Keep the Lords Day.

Notice, it’s not a matter of what we know;

how many great saints were simple folk.

It doesn’t have to wait for us to finish school

or raise our family, or retire from our jobs:

saints are made at all ages,

in family life, in the workplace and in prisons.

In the Gospel, the Lord asks all the Apostles;

but only one dared respond, “You are the Christ!”

May I submit that, for probably most of us,

the greatest challenge we face as Christians

is not opposition; not health or money issues.

Threatening as these are,

beyond all this is a far greater danger:

that most of us, most of the time,

won’t be forced into the Deep;

so we happily splash around in the shallows.

Right at this moment, you and I know

his question for Peter is for us, too:

Who do you say that I am?

It’s not an intellectual challenge; it’s not a test.

It is simply a choice:

Who am I…to you?

What will you do with Me?

Will you follow me?

TL;DR version of the prior post explaining Beacons of Light

What people want:

Joe from St. Kunagunda:    "My parish has its own pastor!"

Sally from St. Christina:     "My parish has its own pastor!"

Charlie from St. Sylvester: "My parish has its own pastor!"

It works fine when you have three priests, three pastors.

When you have one priest who is three pastors, it sort-of-but-not-really "works." That priest must operate as if each place has its own pastor. That means, he must act-as-if he is three separate people.

Which is impossible. 

Hence, it will fail; how it fails can manifest different ways, but it is still failure.

Understand, the let's-pretend we're on our own scenario can seem to work for a while, as a kind of Potemkin-parish; most people think everything is about the same, because to most people, it is. The hidden reality is very different. Few know, precisely because it is hidden. Eventually it falls apart, and everyone is shocked. "But it looked so solid!"

When a new model is tried that can work, given the limited options? 

"What a terrible priest! What a terrible bishop! Why can't it be the way we want?"

Indeed, that is the question. But, supposing it cannot, what next?

Choices:

- Miserable or absentee pastors.

- Lay trusteeism which is a fun ride till it's a terrible one.

- Creating the best new reality with the actual resources (including human resources) available, rather than those we wish we had, but don't know how to make happen.

Understanding Beacons of Light

Saint Stanislaus Koska, a former Catholic church
(Credit: Jonathunder at Wikipedia)

As I write this, I'm killing time before a meeting later. And I'm reading items on Facebook. That includes people I know and respect, expressing deep unhappiness about the "Beacons of Light" reorganization plan now being implemented in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati.

The basic thing is organizing approximately 200 parishes into approximately 55 or so "families," but eventually, they will become 55 or so combined legal entities. This upsets people, understandably, because it means what had been a stand-alone parish will become part of a larger, multi-site parish. Many people are deeply concerned that what they love will go away.

There are many angles from which to approach this. Let me try to hit them all briefly.

First: what will or won't "go away." 

There's no GOOD reason (but could be BAD ones) for any "parish" to "go away." Let me explain the quotes, because I think a lot of the unhappiness derives from the multivalent meaning of words.

When you say "my parish," do you mean the legal structure; or do you mean the physical place; or do you mean the community of people for whom the legal structure was created, and for whom the place is a center of gravity? Three different realities, they are not identical or coterminous. 

To add clarity, let me create three clunky terms: "parish-corporation," "parish-place" and "parish-people." Follow? Hang with me please

The legal structure is boring but important. A parish, under church law, is essentially a corporation. It stands apart from other parish-corporations, and therefore, the persons who are legally responsible for them must administer them in a certain way. That means the pastor alone -- other than the bishop -- has the legal authority to act on behalf of that parish-corporation. His moral and legal duty to administer that corporation is serious, and it is greatly complicated when he is asked to administer more than one, especially if the multiple parish-corporations are adjacent to, or intertwined with, each other. This is a key point that is not well understood by those who get upset about Beacons of Light.

That said, changing the legal structure -- i.e., combining multiple parish-corporations into a united parish-corporation -- does not necessarily change a whole lot for the parish-place and parish-people involved. 

Imagine in the town of Happy Valley, you have three parishes: St. Kunagunda, St. Sylvester and St. Christina the Astonishing. At one time, each was helmed by separate pastors; but for various reasons, they now share a single pastor, and have for some time, and are almost certain to be so led for the indefinite future. 

I will skip over, for now, why combining the three parish-corporations into one is advisable, and just assume that it is will happen. What does this change for the physical locations and the people who gravitate there? Does it force any outcome?

The answer is NO. There is no necessity that any of the three locations undergo a single, meaningful change. There might be changes in tax ID numbers, or record-keeping. There would likely be signs saying, "St. Kunagunda Church, part of St. Oddo Parish." But all the activities that took place the day before the combining of legal structures are still underway the day after.

I know what you're saying: but it's a prelude to closing ___ Parish! 

Tell me, what benefit would there be to anyone to close a church that is well attended and well supported (as opposed to one that is neither)? What does the pastor or bishop gain by doing it?

Other than misery, alienation and people who used to give, but no longer will?

Only an extremely stupid pastor or bishop would mess with success. I'm not saying there aren't stupid pastors or bishops. I'm saying, that's not usually the case -- not that stupid.

Pretty often, the closure comes because people drift away, the money needed to keep things going isn't there, debts mount, and then...why be surprised if the place closes?

On the other hand, if the people will support keeping a place active, there is no benefit to fighting them, and great benefit in giving them what they want.

Now, if there aren't enough priests, that may affect the number of Masses. But in the case of Beacons of Light, that isn't the critical issue. The issue that is generating great unhappiness in some quarters is precisely the legal structures changing, which are taken (I think) to presage other changes. 

All I mean to do is challenge that assumption. I think a very good argument can be made (and I will try presently to make it) that combining the corporate structure can and will have the opposite effect, of benefitting the life of the parish-places and parish-people.

Second: why you don't really want a pastor to helm multiple (i.e., independent) parishes

This is what many people think they want. They want their parish-place and parish-people to stay on their own as they have been. They fear the combination of the parish-corporation will inevitably lead to the end of what they love about parish-place and parish-people.

There is a kernel of truth in this, which I will touch on below. But let deal with why you actually don't want to maintain the go-it-alone parish structures, when the multiple parishes share now, and will share for an indefinite time to come, a single pastor.

A pastor has a moral duty to the parish-corporation he leads that must not be compromised. He must act in its best interest. He must review records, keep track of all assets, that is, the "patrimony," and he must lead the pastoral care of the parish-people. If he is asked to do this not only for St. Kunagunda, but also St. Christina the Astonishing, etc., he must act, in effect, as three separate pastors. This is the point that isn't really understood until you've lived it. Very often, the pastor must "personify" his parish, especially in relation to other parishes. This is bound up with how Canon law describes him as the "juridical person."

So think about that: Father Ernest, Pastor of St. Sylvester, must personify that parish to Father Ernest (himself!), pastor of St. Christina; then, again, he must represent those two, to himself, as pastor of St. Kunagunda. 

Couldn't he conflate these distinct fiduciary responsibilities? Yes! It's called combining the parish-corporations into one; but as long as there are distinct corporations, conflating these duties is the one thing he must NOT do. Rather, he must maintain them separately and distinctly, and then he must manage, somehow, to avoid a conflict of interests. And those conflicts come up rather more frequently than you may realize. They are not so hard to avoid if he has good cooperation among the lay collaborators of the several parishes; but that doesn't always happen. Then what?

If you maintain separate legal entities, then you must maintain separate accounts, separate books, separate inventories of assets, and separate lines of accountability. This multiplies the time the pastor must spend reviewing books and inventories; and it adds a special complication: creating special structures and methods of preventing improper commingling; and avoiding suspicion of the same.

Let me summarize it this way. I've lived this reality both where there is good cooperation and refusal to cooperate; the latter is awful, but the former is still difficult. My first year here was made so much more bearable because everyone knew we were moving toward becoming one family, and was ready to be flexible. Had that not been in view, the past year would have been extremely difficult.

To state it simply: if you don't understand why this is difficult for the pastor, ask questions and listen. 

Two examples, both real:

a) Parish-corporations that share pastors will inevitably share some expenses, perhaps quite a lot of expenses, especially if they share employees. Quite a lot of time will be spent on analyzing, proposing, debating, negotiating, implementing, and evaluating plans of sharing and distributing those expenses. Then it all has to be re-done every few years, because the odds of getting it right the first time are nil. It's all about what's "fair," and that is far from obvious or uniform. "Fair" is whatever everyone can live with.

b) Pastors will inevitably be moving from site to site as they carry out their duties. It becomes tremendously easy for valuable items to "drift" from site to site with him. As a result, it's remarkably easy for sacred vessels, vestments, ritual books and other things to migrate. Not a big deal, until it is. "Where's the ciborium that was donated 50 years ago?" It may seem a small thing, but again, from actual experience, it's a headache to keep track of, but if I don't make sure it's attended to, it can become a real problem and an injustice.

Some will say, but the pastor should simply give responsibility for money, for budgeting, for oversight, to others! Let him focus on spiritual things!

First, that's a kind of gnosticism to separate the temporal from the spiritual. God didn't create us as angels, but as body-soul combinations. 

Second, what that really means is that the priest goes from being the leader of the parish, to an employee. 

Whoever makes the decisions about the physical assets is in charge, whether that be the priest, or a deacon, or a single layperson, or a committee of laypeople. The latter was tried: it was called "trusteeism." It became a huge problem, and a recent example is the sad story of St. Stanislaus Kostka Church in St. Louis. Short story: a Catholic parish, administered by a lay corporation, ended up not being a Catholic parish. A bad end for anyone who wants to safeguard the parish-place and parish-people by demoting the priest from leader to "sacramental minister." And don't tell me, "but that's not what we intend!" The good folks who set St. Stanislaus on that bad road didn't intend the outcome either.

Third, the other option is to accept poor pastoral leadership as "normal": if a man must lead multiple, legally separate parish-corporations, he will be a miserable pastor who tries, but fails, to do an impossible job; or an absentee pastor who happily doesn't try. Hard to see how either is good for the parish-people or parish-place, even as it protects the independence of the parish-corporations!

The point I'm making is this: given the reality of not enough pastor-capable priests, that narrows our options. I wish it were otherwise! But for now, and for the foreseeable future, we have too many parishes for too few pastors. At this point, combining the parish-corporation offers a way to minimize the pastor's time spent complying with the demands of muliple parish-corporations, increasing the time he can give to the parish-places and parish-people.

And here's a point I wanted to make earlier. A lot of people are mad at the Archbishop, and those he consulted, about this whole reorganization -- as if this came out of nowhere. The event you are unhappy about didn't happen in the last two or three years; it was already underway 20-plus years ago: when we knew pastors leading multiple parishes was the reality that wasn't going to change quickly. I'm not saying it cannot change; and to his credit, Archbishop Schnurr has tried to change it. But at some point, you can't pretend reality isn't real, especially when it comes at the cost of miserable pastors who are told they must give their parishioners the pretense of things not changing all that much, or do-the-minimum pastors who let things go; they will go for quite awhile before people realize how far gone things are.

Yes, combining parishes does involve loss

I'm not going to pretend it is all positive. There is something lost when you no longer have each church (parish-place) as a stand-alone parish-corporation. When you create a new, larger entity -- call it the combo-parish -- helmed by a single pastor, it isn't only the legal structures that become one. In some fashion, it all becomes one. 

Indeed, the term "family" is very helpful here. Has anyone ever heard of a family that embraces more than one physical home? With multiple traditions and activities, that not all take part in? Of course! Isn't that exactly how most extended families operate?

I realize this raises questions, but it seems to me, most of the success or failure of this depends on how people respond. If the people who identify with St. Sylvester must start to share their beloved church, and events, with people who identify with St. Christina and St. Kunagunda, is it really all "loss"?

Cannot each part of this new family have a moment to consider, "what special thing do I bring to this family?" Each member of a family is unique; yet part of the larger family. So cannot St. Kunagunda continue to be a special parish-people and parish-place, while becoming part of a united parish-corporation? I readily believe it can fail: but please tell me why you think it must fail.

Widening our narrowness (Sunday homily)

 Several years ago, while making a trip to the Holy Land, 

 I changed planes in France, and while waiting for my flight, 

a group of Orthodox Jewish men arrive at the gate. 

As they waited, they gathered in a corner to pray together. 

As you would be, I was curious, but I did not want to stare. 

Above all, I respected and admired their zeal. 

In the second reading, Saint Paul tells us that to be a Christian 

means being grafted into the “vine” of Israel. 

The Jewish People are God’s Chosen People, 

and one of the things Jesus came to do 

was to extend that chosen-ness to all humanity. 

That’s what the first reading foresees. 

Keep this in mind as we look at this strange episode in the Gospel. 

Lots of people think Jesus is denigrating this woman, 

and that he is not interested in welcoming her. 

But stop and think: does that really sound right?

But then, why does he speak this way? 

The detail in the background, that explains the situation, is this:

One of the key story-lines of the Gospels 

is how the Apostles grow in faith.

Jesus is repeatedly challenging their narrowness,

and, by extension, our narrowness.

That’s what’s happening here. 

Notice, the Lord waits to see what the Apostles will say.

Their advice: “Send her away.”

That’s what they said before, when parents brought children, 

or when they faced thousands of hungry people: “Send them away.” 

What do you think I want to say when someone knocks on my door? “Send them away!” 

So what we hear is Jesus saying, out loud, 

what’s in the Apostle’s hearts. 

This is all about how they will carry out 

the missionary task Jesus will give them.

Jesus knew what he was doing: 

he wanted her great faith to expand the faith of the Apostles. 

And, it worked. The Apostles went to the all the world,

and today, the face of the Church includes every human face.

Obviously, and sadly, there is plenty of narrowness still.

Worse, we Christians let that narrowness take root in ourselves, 

rather than joining the Apostles in the conversion Jesus led them to. 

This is where I could trace out points about racism, 

about rash judgment, about closing people out, 

because they are “they” and not “we.”

This is where someone might want me to talk about public policy, 

but the trouble is, that gets really complicated, 

and I only have a few minutes. 

The broad point that needs to be made is that we Catholics 

believe in human dignity, and human brotherhood, 

regardless of race or religion or politics or anything else 

that becomes a label or a barrier.

This applies both in, and beyond, politics; it’s about how we live.

Are you and I narrow? Or can I see – and say – that this other person, 

regardless of skin color, or language, or clothing, 

or tattoos or nose rings or whatever, 

“you are my brother,” “you are my sister.”

And I might add: just because you or I don’t agree with someone’s opinions, 

or way of life, doesn’t change the basic calculus.

We don’t just treat well the people we agree with.

I want to remind you that the real goal of our parish reorganization 

is to become an evangelizing, outward-focused community of faith.

And if it works, we may see people showing up 

who don’t seem to be the “us” that you and I are used to.

It’s going to be a conversion moment, and don’t say no one warned you.

Meanwhile, back to those men I saw in the airport. 

However different they might have seemed to me, or you,

Our vocation is exactly the same:

Keep praying. Keep faithful. Keep bearing witness. 

Don’t be afraid to stand out.

Discouragement is a choice; so is joy (Sunday homily)

 There’s a word for what is happening in all the readings; 

what is happening for Elijah, for Saint Paul, and for Saint Peter. 

That word is discouragement.

And there is a word for what cures it. And that is joy. 

In the first reading, Elijah has fled to the mountain 

because he is discouraged. He tried to spark revival of faith, 

and the queen seeks to kill him. He feels very alone and overwhelmed.

In the second reading, Paul is “in anguish” for his fellow Jews 

who have resisted the message of Jesus Christ.

Peter, in the Gospel, is disheartened by the storm raging around him, 

and he begins to sink.

Meanwhile, there are trends that trouble us all.

So many of us face the same discouragement Elijah and Paul did.

You and I see members of our families, 

people who were once active in the Faith, drifting away.

We see ways our nation is heading in the wrong direction.

There is a ballot measure coming in November that, if enacted, 

would strike down the limited protections we have for unborn children, 

and open the floodgates for abortion on demand.

And it would, very likely, impinge on parents’ authority 

to decide medical treatment for their own children.

If you want to be discouraged, there are plenty of opportunities.

But there is always a choice.

Sometimes people give into fatalism, saying, 

“There’s nothing we can do!” 

Believe me, I’ve felt it too; yet you and I must remind ourselves:

If we truly believe in God, there is no room for fatalism.

Instead, you and I must seek that which Elijah needed to renew, 

and what Peter lost sight of. And that is joy.

I was inspired by reading the words of Charles Chaput, 

former Archbishop of Philadelphia, who said, 

while Christians need to see the world’s problems as they are, 

“we can’t let the weight of the world crush the joy 

that’s our birthright 

by our rebirth in Jesus Christ through baptism,” he said.

So, what is joy? Well, it isn’t simply happiness, 

because we can know joy even in times of great suffering. 

Let me give you an example that may surprise you.

I knew an older couple in Piqua, married over 60 years. 

The wife became ill, and got worse and worse; 

and I was called to visit her in the hospital. 

When I entered that small hospital room, it was packed – 

maybe 20 people or more. 

Everyone was praying, centered on their mother and grandmother, 

in bed, with her husband sitting by her, holding her hand. 

She was leading the prayers. 

Then came a moment when she couldn’t speak, 

but her husband kept praying. 

Then, he finally stopped. We all knew she was gone.

And he broke the silence with these words: 

“I’m heart-broken, but I’m joyful.”

What was that joy? It’s hard to put into words, isn’t it? Yet we know.

He and his wife and their children and grandchildren 

had shared life and love; 

not just on a natural, but a supernatural level.

Death was all too real, 

but something else is infinitely more real, 

and that is Jesus Christ, and that is hope, and that is joy!

That man knew he would see his wife again;

He was drawing on the reservoir of faith they had shared;

He looked forward to experiencing the fullest joy from its source,

Which is Jesus Christ, whom his wife went to meet first.

So we might ask, what steals our joy? Many things, 

including discouragement, resentment, 

and worry about the cares of the world.

Some of us pay too much attention to the news and the Internet. 

It’s just like what happened to Peter: we see the waves crashing 

and the wind howling, and we start to sink.

But it wasn’t the storm that sunk Peter; 

it was looking away from Jesus.

So if stormy news on TV or the Internet gets you anxious, 

there is a simple solution: Turn it off!

Our inflated ego tells us, “oh, I need to know!”

But mostly that’s not true. 

We might need 5 minutes of news, not 5 hours. 

Put down that phone and pick up a Rosary.

Stop looking at the screen, and look instead at another human face. 

Human relationships are messy, 

but they are also where real love happens; 

and they are the only possession we can enjoy for eternity. 

The choice is yours: tremble at the storm, or fix your gaze on Jesus.

When he is our focus, 

what will shine in our face is the light of heaven, pure joy, 

and people will see that, and will want to know where it comes from.

They will want what you and I have.

Gift Cards are BAD

All right, I over-simplified the matter in the headline; and no, I am not making an ontological statement. But I do intend to warn people off of gift cards; here goes.

Today, I dove into my wallet to dig out a gift card. I've had it over a year, and I knew there was still some value on it. It is for a restaurant about six miles away; a kind person up north gave it to me, before leaving Shelby County; she guessed at it being close by. Not so much, actually.

When I picked up my wings, I discovered, after paying for the wings, I still had $8 left (I'd been here about 4 times); so the clerk got a nice tip. The card is empty! Free at last!

When I got back and tucked into my wings, I remembered why that card lingered in my pocket; I don't love the food at this place. Sure, I could have just tossed the card away, but that seemed so wasteful. So, instead, I bought and ate food I don't love. No, not the end of the world: but is could that actually be what the kind person who gave me the gift card wanted?

This is an ongoing project of mine: using up or giving away gift cards. I have several left in my wallet, for places I really don't patronize, or at least, rarely. I will probably give these away, which is fine, but honestly, I'm just making my problem someone else's.

I don't want to sound ungracious. I am very grateful for the kindness of so many people, and I always write a thank you letter. My Christmas thank yous finally went out, this year, in May if memory serves. No matter how busy I am, I send a thank you...eventually.

But I have to ask: why in the world do people think this is a good idea?

If you say, well, people want you to enjoy a good meal, or, they know you like such-and-such, my follow-up question is, where did people get the idea that the only (or even best) way to enable that, is with a gift card? 

What's wrong with cash?

Consider this: who actually benefits from you purchasing a gift card? 

- Not you.

- Not the intended recipient.

- Not society.

Who?

Now, if these were sold for some discount off the face value, I could see it: pay $95 for a $100 gift card. How often does this happen? I honestly don't know, because I never buy these things.

If there's no discount, I ask again:

What's so terrible about cash?

Sunday Dinner

Sorry, no pictures, but the plain truth is, when I'm fixing dinner, I don't want to mess around with photos. If the other priest wants to take pictures, he's welcome, but I'm not going to ask him to do it.

In any case, we all need to remember the compelling power of the written word.

This is a frequent dinner menu, with some variations.

Antipasto, prepared not too long before, featuring different tasty things, that go with a martini. I'm the only one who has a martini (details below).

Insalata Caprese, which is a variation; usually it's a tomato salad, but I came across some real, home-grown tomatoes, and they deserve to be in a caprese. I peeled them, too. FYI, my caprese is simple: sliced tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, olive oil, pepper. The other priest likes balsamic vinegar.

Ribeyes, which began to be prepared early this morning, with a dredge of kosher salt and cracked pepper; they sat in the fridge all day, allowing the salt to migrate into the meat, and the surface of the meat to dry out -- for a better sear. They went into the oven at 150 degrees around 3:15 pm or so.

Mushrooms, sauteed slowly, with olive oil, salt, pepper, cayenne and a bit of worcestershire sauce; cooking them slowly gets out the water and intensifies the flavor. Oh, and I tried a bit of msg, that helps. Finishing them with some butter, I put them in the oven, along with the plates for the steaks. The salad plates went into the freezer.

Around 4 or so, the other priest and I prayed Evening Prayer, then a cocktail with the antipasto. Then I brought out the steaks and finished them on the grill outside. Then we had the salad with the steaks; yes, I know, not the proper sequence, but oh well. Plus some cabernet. The steaks had to rest for a bit; my method is to douse them in dried thyme and plenty of butter; that all melts and flavors the steaks while they rest. Goal: medium rare. Father and I are getting where we like eating a bit earlier.

Verdict? The steaks were great; I'm getting pretty good at this. The star of the show was the fresh tomatoes in the caprese. Those people who say they don't like tomatoes have, I suspect, never had a vine-ripened one. It's worlds apart from store-bought tomatoes.

Oh, I think it's time for dessert!

Oops: I forgot the details on the martini: gin and vodka frozen, along with the glass. Two parts vodka, one part gin. The vodka is shaken vigorously with ice; honestly, the purpose isn't to chill it, but to add some ice shards. The gin is added, and it's stirred -- swirled, to be precise. A small bit of vermouth; garnished with bleu-cheese stuffed olives.

Why the Transfiguration happened (Sunday homily)

 We might wonder why the “Transfiguration” is important, 

whether to these Apostles, or to us.

Answer: it reveals to us exactly who Jesus is.

When this event takes place, there had been a building question:

Who is Jesus?

Jesus himself asks the question: “who do people say that I am?”

The Apostles say, “John the Baptist, Elijah…one of the prophets.”

He asks again, “Who do you say that I am?”

And Peter blurts out, “You are the Messiah.”

Jesus responds to Peter’s faith by offering even more:

He reveals his plan of salvation:

That he will suffer, die, and rise again on the third day.

Peter struggled with that, but the Lord insists:

If you want to follow me, you must “take up your cross!”

It’s the same difficulty for us: what kind of Messiah do we have?

One who conquers, or who suffers and dies?

It’s both. This is who Jesus is.

The Cross is his glory! That’s where he reigns!

That’s how he conquers the world:

Not the Rambo-Messiah, guns-ablazing—that’s our way.

And if you aren’t sure you think that way, consider:

Haven’t you ever said out loud: “Why does God allow such-and-such?”

There it is.

Jesus conquers by giving his life away, 

to make an offering for sin, to reconcile us to God and to one another.

Aren’t you glad Jesus says, I will conquer, not by killing you,

but by dying for you – by winning you!?

Jesus knew the Cross would be a scandal for the Apostles.

So, to sustain them, he lets them see the fuller picture of who he is.

Now, here’s a detail about Moses and Elijah.

Of all the folks in the Bible to whom God spoke,

only these two went up a mountain to see the Lord’s glory.

But that experience was too much to bear for them:

Moses hid in a rock; Elijah covered his head.

Notice they don’t hide; and, neither do the Apostles, or we.

Moses and Elijah have come so much closer to the glory.

I said a moment ago that the Cross remains a scandal.

Lots of us Christians seem to forget 

that it isn’t just Jesus, the head, who goes to the cross. 

You, and I and all members of the Church are his Body.

The Body goes to the Cross with the Head.

Just as Jesus was humiliated before the world,

We face our humiliations as his followers.

Also, a moment ago, I said that Moses and Elijah got to come closer.

But you and I are even closer now than they were then.

Howso? 

For us, the Resurrection, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit,

the institution of the sacraments, above all, Holy Mass, have happened. 

Our “transfiguration” experience isn’t reading this Gospel.

It’s the Holy Mass!

The Mass is that glory which the Gospel describes.

This is the truth Vatican II taught 

when it called the Mass “the source and summit” of our faith.

This is why coming to Mass on the Lord’s Day is a grave obligation. 

This is why, as helpful as the Internet is for those who cannot come,

Mass on the Internet is not the same as being here.

Imagine if when Jesus said, “come up the mountain with me,” 

Peter said, “how about we stay home and watch on the Internet”?

Again: some people can’t come, so they are excused.

But if you can come, how can you refuse?

As many know, our bishops asked all of us to spend this year and next 

reflecting more deeply on the Holy Eucharist.

And, of course, you know that our family of three parishes 

are in the throes of coming together as one.

Where these two projects intersect is at the Holy Mass.

“Beacons of Light” is far more about revitalization and renewal, 

than merely reorganization,

so that our parish not only receives, but transmits, Jesus’ glory.

What is that called? A beacon! 

So, one of the guiding principles of “Beacons of Light” 

is to foster a renewal of the liturgy; 

that is to say, how we come together at the altar,

and experience that glory and share it.

You’ll hear more about that as we go along.

For today, I beg you not to make the mistake of thinking, 

“nothing happened at church.”

You were there: deeper in than Moses, Elijah or the Apostles.

But you haven’t missed it: that’s what comes in a moment.

Jesus offers you treasure (Sunday homily)

(Today's homily is very brief, because a lay missionary from the Society of the Precious Blood spoke before Mass started.)

The twist in the story of Solomon is this:

God offered him the gift of wisdom,

Yet in the end, he ended up being guided by lust and vanity.

One of the Old Testament books attributed to Solomon 

contains the familiar words: “vanity of vanities, everything is vanity.”

If you and I aren’t careful, we can get cynical and say similar things. 

“They’re all crooks!” or, “It’s the same old thing, I’ve heard it before.”

When God became human, that was certainly not the same old thing.

And even though this Mass will be familiar – that’s what we expect – 

you and I might do well to check ourselves.

When I was a teenager, I was good at rolling my eyes, 

because even at 15, I’d seen it all before – or so I thought.

However the same it all seems, however familiar, 

there is a treasure here if you want it. 

Jesus is here for you. 

What's growing in your garden? (Sunday homily)

How do we sow either good or bad seed?

It is our daily choices: 

with the result that either the field of our soul 

has a bumper-crop of virtue, 

or it is crowded with the weeds of vice and sin.

I was reading a book by Father Basil Maturin, 

an Irish priest from a century ago, who talks about this parable. 

It was he who saw the field as our own lives. 

Father Maturin asked, “How often, as we look into our souls, 

and wonder at the evil we find there, do we not ask ourselves” 

where do these weeds come from? 

Where do laziness, wrath, lust and greed, 

and the trials that go with them, come from? 

And the answer is, “An enemy has done this.”

Now, the devil certainly does not “make me” do anything.

The enemy offers suggestions, often very appealing, 

but the choice is mine. 

So the conclusion is, you and I cannot be too careful 

about what evil we allow the enemy to sow in our lives. 

There’s a famous saying, attributed to many people:

“Sow a thought, reap an action; sow an action, reap a habit; 

Sow a habit, reap a character; sow a character, reap a destiny.”

It doesn’t take much time given to the Internet, 

going to dark places, to allow a foul habit to take deep root. 

There are folks who think this isn’t any big deal.

But materials I’m referring to involve exploitation of others 

and they are poison for ourselves and our own relationships. 

There is a growing number of people 

who are finding it difficult to have a healthy relationship 

with the opposite sex because of pornography. 

It poisons marriages, even before they begin,

and it is contributing to marital breakups. 

So it’s vital to guard our eyes from what is degrading; 

our ears from gossip and suspicion;

our heart from envy; our stomach from gluttony.

Of course, a lot of us can say, too late: 

these weeds are already in my life! 

We are frustrated to face these same weeds, 

week after week throughout our lives. 

Why doesn’t the Lord simply tear them out, when we beg him to do so?

Sometimes it happens: we have a moment of conversion 

and we receive the grace to completely overcome that bad habit; 

the weeds are, indeed, ripped out. 

But do you know what often happens next?

Someone who received a great gift of deliverance slowly slides back.

As much as we hate it, for virtue to grow in our lives, 

you and I are better off if it comes hard rather than easy;

just as it takes hard, physical labor to build our lungs and muscles.

And it is so often true that 

it is in our darkest and lowest places where we so quickly meet Jesus,

and experience him most powerfully.

There’s no place for pride when we’re flat on our face.

So, when you find it discouraging to go to confession, again, and again,

with the same sin – realize, that is exactly the medicine you need. 

It is the enemy who says, you can’t fight the weeds, 

just let them grow. 

There’s something the Gospel doesn’t say, yet we know it’s true:

Jesus has the power to turn weeds into wheat.

This has been true in my own life, 

and there are people around us who will say the same.

At this and every Mass, Jesus takes wheat – that is, bread – 

and turns it into himself.

What happened once on the Cross, for us, 

Jesus extends through time, through the Mass.

Every day, you and I bring new bread and wine, and through the priest,

Jesus himself says, “This is my Body.”

Yet there’s another wheat, another bread, 

Jesus wants above all to take in hand and say, “This is my Body.”

Do you know what that wheat is?

You and me! All of us are called to belong to his Mystical Body.

But no weeds – only the best of wheat, 

which he himself purifies and gathers and prepares. 

That’s what it means to be a Catholic;

Daily we turn our lives over to him. Patiently we return to confession. 

Jesus makes of us the best of wheat, to become part of Him.

Who is Saint Henry, our patron? (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 it’s important for a parish to know its patron saint.

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

Since I’m new here, I haven’t learned why 

Archbishop Alter and Father Franer picked Saint Henry. 

Perhaps some of our more senior members know; 

if so, please send me an email or call me to share that information. 

In any case, let me share a bit about Henry. 

He was born about a thousand years ago into a royal 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.

I mention all this because there is an obvious fact:

Not many politicians are declared saints! It’s not hard to understand.

What deserves attention is what makes the difference 

between the long, sad record of kings jockeying for power,

and those who humble themselves before the King of Kings?

Henry became Duke of Bavaria, later, King of Germany, 

and then Holy Roman Emperor, then the major power in Europe.

The seeds planted in his youth yielded a great harvest later.

This is why our family of parishes maintains Bishop Leibold school, 

and why it is essential our school keep Christ at the center.

A few notable details about Henry. 

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

He and his wife – Saint Cunegunda (yes, that was really her name!) 

did not conceive any children. 

Other kings would renounce their wives; Henry remained true to her.

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, and first heard the Word of God,

and then received him in the Holy Eucharist?

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

We always find time for what matters most. 

Saint Henry’s earthly family and kingdom are long gone.

Had he tried to secure a worldly dynasty, he would have failed.

Yet halfway around the world, you and I enjoy his spiritual friendship.

You can visit the grave of him and his queen, also a saint, 

in the cathedral of Bamberg, Germany.

But his tomb is not the center; the altar of Christ is.

Henry was king, with all the temptations and pitfalls.

Yet what mattered most was he pointed to Jesus, saying:

He is the true King – bow down to him.

How to live in the Spirit (Sunday homily)

 Let’s talk about what you and I heard Saint Paul say: 

we are “not in the flesh…(we) are in the Spirit.” 

What does this mean?

It means, first that when we were baptized, 

the Holy Spirit was given to each of us. 

God dwells in you and me!

This relationship with God is damaged by sin; 

mortal sin is called that because it “kills,” or severs, the connection.

The sacrament of confession is the normal way we revive it,

giving us the newness we received first in baptism.

When we think of the Holy Spirit, we might think of confirmation.

That sacrament can’t be understood without connection to baptism.

In a sense, confirmation is “part two” of baptism, 

“sealing” in us the Gift of the Holy Spirit – 

which is what the bishop says as he anoints us with chrism.

But let’s think about this more broadly. 

What does it mean to say the Holy Spirit is in our life. 

Or, to use Paul’s way of saying it, 

you and I are in the life of the Holy Spirit?

How is that different from being “in the flesh”?

It’s confusing, because all of us are always “in the flesh,” right?

Indeed, some of us – ahem! – are especially fleshy!

The answer is this: who is in charge?

Is my body and its appetites in charge, or is the Holy Spirit in charge?

This isn’t a matter of flipping a switch – oh, if only it were so easy!

It’s a matter of habit, and cultivating a new way of living.

One benefit of including penance and self-denial in our lives – 

not just in Lent, but throughout the year – 

is precisely to grow in our ability to master our appetites and impulses, 

instead of them mastering us.

But it isn’t just self-denial, it’s far more a matter of prayer.

And I mean both the practice of regular forms of prayer – 

morning prayers, the Rosary or Divine Mercy chaplet, 

or spiritual reading – 

as well as a certain mindset that comes from prayer.

Praying regularly does (at least) two powerful things.

First, of course, it opens us up to God and his help.

Second, it trains us to develop a different way of seeing and reacting.

It’s not easy to describe, but we all know it when we see it:

Someone who keeps her head while everyone is losing theirs.

The calm that comes from remembering God is in control, 

and that in the long run, God’s Kingdom will prevail.

There is a peace that comes, not from soothing music or a video game, 

or an adult beverage, or even from our favorite chair, but rather,

from knowing that, in addition to being in Miami Township/Springboro,

more importantly, you are right where God wants you,

wherever you are, whatever is happening.

Living in the Holy Spirit doesn’t mean you become an oracle. 

Most people don’t respond well when you say, “God told me to tell you…”

Nor does it mean that everything goes perfectly.

What living in the Holy Spirit means 

is you and I learning to let him be in charge. 

Sometimes he softens our hearts; other times, he hardens our resolve.

Sometimes he makes us bold to speak; or he helps us bite our tongue.

The same Spirit will help us discipline our spending, 

and then prompt us to be prodigal in sharing our goods with others.

If you want this life in the Spirit – and why wouldn’t you? – then ask.

But believe me when I say, there is no short-cut.

First comes our own resolve – really wanting it;

Then comes living that resolve by daily choices, prayer and self-denial.

I repeat again my invitation to confession: 

this sacrament is the mega-dose of heart-softening.

And when I say, “ask” I mean, again and again, with daily prayer.

Sometimes we say, oh, I will start praying when I have time.

Daily prayer isn’t out of reach for anyone.

Even a few minutes at the beginning, 

a few moments – pauses – through the day, 

and a few minutes at the end, will bring great fruit.

If you want Life in the Spirit, ASK.

Our nation's birth certificate

 

Our patriotic task is to 'baptize' our nation (Sunday homily)

 As we all know, Tuesday is our nation’s Independence Day, 

and I’m guessing the celebration has already begun for many of us.

This time of year, I think a little more about our nation’s history; 

about the great gift we were given by those who won our Revolution.

So, for example, the Knights of Columbus were helping parishioners

to register to vote recently. 

It’s shocking to think that anyone wouldn’t be registered to vote. 

Both in the Revolution, and again in the Civil Rights movement, 

people died to gain for us this and other precious rights.

As I thought about this homily, St. Paul’s words caught my eye.

He’s speaking about baptism and the Cross, not patriotism.

So, if you ask me what this homily is about:

It’s about what happens when we “baptize” Independence Day.

Because what our nation needs is a collective baptism. 

Taking up the cross, as Jesus said, dying to self.

I offer that because the great idol 

to which our nation tends to bow down, more than any other, 

is the seductive concept of “Choice.”

Our nation was conceived in liberty.

You and I are rightly protective of our rights in the Constitution.

Yet must we not concede there is a blind-spot?

Namely, that the right to choose 

is made more important than choosing what is right.

And this can show up in the everyday operations of our parishes, 

where instead of focusing on what’s good for all of us, 

people can end up simply pushing for what is good for themselves.

I’m talking about a part of Catholic teaching we call “the common good.” 

This applies to the family, workplace, neighborhood, and nation.

Imagine how our society would be transformed, 

if more of us were willing not to get something for ourselves, 

if that meant better for the whole of our state or our nation?

Imagine if, when the next politician stands up and says,

“Here’s a benefit or program I’m going to give to you,”

we voters said, “No! Don’t pander to us, think about the whole!”

That’s the common good.

To circle back to Saint Paul, this is all about dying to self.

The reason not to exalt “choice” above all else, 

is because good and evil aren’t a matter of majority vote.

Just because I want something, doesn’t make it right.

That’s a part of me that has to die.

That mindset has to be baptized and converted into what Jesus said: 

I did not come to be served, but to serve.

As you and I and all of us celebrate our nation’s independence, 

we might try to remember – 

and if we can do it gracefully, help others to remember – 

that the liberty you and I cherish wasn’t given to us for its own sake.

It is worth asking whether our constitutional republic can really work, 

if our people lose faith in God, or lose our moral core.

When Dr. Martin Luther King made the great difference he did, 

to help vindicate the rights of all Americans, regardless of skin color, 

he not only pointed to our Constitution,  

he also appealed to the moral compass of the majority 

whose rights did not need vindicating. He appealed to our consciences.

If that conscience had been dead, he would have failed.

It is frightening to think where that road would have led.

Thank God, Dr. King stirred us, and stirs us still, to a better vision

Of all the places and times God could have chosen for us,

He chose this country, this state, in this year.

Our nation’s conscience continues to need stirring, and converting.

Who will do it? God put you and me here for that.