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.

Day 9: Turning East

I'm sorry this will be another brief post as, well, I am on vacation!

A quick re-cap:

Friday I was at Grand Teton National Park for most of the day, then passed through Yellowstone National Park from the south entrance to the east entrance. Saturday I was back at Yellowstone, not as long as I wanted, which I'll explain below; and then, Sunday I spent most of the day in the park, before heading north to Livingston, Montana (and state 46).

A few observations about these national parks:

- If you ever wonder if they are over-hyped, the answer is no. The sights and experiences were everything you would hope.

- Don't worry about accessibility. You can drive to lots of things worth seeing.

- Don't worry about not being able to get into the wild; there are ample places for hiking and camping.

- Do plan ahead, both in researching all that there is to see, and plan your stops; and book well in advance, if you want to stay in Yellowstone, which -- while costly -- would have been worth it. I booked a very nice mountainside, creekside lodge (that's the name: Creek Side Lodge), advertised as 10 miles from Yellowstone's east entrance. True, but that omits how far that entrance is from the heart of the park. I had a two-hour, twisty mountain drive each way to get into the center of the park, not to mention the driving around the massive "loop." Stunning sights all along the drive, but I'd rather have been closer.

- Don't be the driver if you are either nervous or impatient behind the wheel. You know who you are! Let someone else drive.

- When you see wildlife, just keep moving, calmly. Stopping to coo at the "adorable" critters strikes me as a very poor decision. We Ohioans know how much havoc a mere deer can do to a car; the longhorn sheep, elk and bison are notably, or else significantly more massive than deer, so what do you think happens when that cute animal decides your Honda Accord looks like a threat? I say, keep moving along. If you want to gaze at animals, get your car off the road. The park posts signs everywhere giving further advice on this subject, namely, don't feed them and don't get too close.

I am not at all sorry I devoted so much time to these two parks, and when I get a better time, I'll post what pictures I took, but don't get too expectant: I'm not that good at it and I figure other people have published far better shots of these spectacular places. 

So what rearranged my Saturday? Discovering that Mass wasn't offered when and where I thought. Again, this is on me for not being more diligent. I had thought there was both a Sunday morning Mass in the park, and a Sunday evening option on the way north; but upon further checking, on Saturday morning, those weren't going to take place this past weekend. So, after some reworking, I decided Saturday afternoon Mass in "nearby" Cody (3 hours east from the center of the park!) was the best option. I was glad to visit Cody, but sorry I didn't plan for it. There was a museum for Buffalo Bill, and also a collection of old-looking buildings supposedly marking the original settlement; but it was closed by the time Mass ended.

In my defense, Google Maps, which is usually extremely helpful, was anything but when dealing with driving through Yellowstone. I think what messes up the app is the fact that many roads in the park are closed in winter, and subject to closure beyond that. So, when I was planning my trip and trying to calculate routes, Google would not let me plan to drive through the park; it almost always routed me around. Of course, I could have done it the old-fashioned way, using the road atlas in my car! (Another suggestion: always keep one of these, because the Internet isn't everywhere.) In retrospect, it would have worked to have departed Yellowstone through Cody and then up to Montana. 

Cody, by the way, boasts a German restaurant, and I was very sorely tempted. However, I had a 50-minute drive back to my lodging, and I don't think carry-out schnitzel would be so good after that drive. Nor did I think it prudent to drive back along those twisty mountain roads after schnitzel, and of course some beer, as dusk fell and the bears were on the road (I was told dusk and dawn are the best times to see them). For the same reason, I didn't stay for the 8 pm rodeo in town, although that looked like great fun. Better would have been to have stayed in Cody for a night. Next time!

My drive to Montana on Sunday afternoon, and then eastward toward Gillette, Wyoming, where I stayed last night, was mostly accompanied by the Yellowstone River, which finally bent toward the north as I steered south. Along the way I passed through the Crow Reservation, and visited the Little Bighorn Battlefield. (FYI, on this trip I played the "senior card" for the first time, as I qualified, at 62, for the $20 one-year pass for all national parks.) This, too, was well worth the visit.

Here's a fact that doesn't often get mentioned, however, regarding this tragic battle. The U.S. forces were not, strictly speaking, the agressors. They were caught between several Indian tribes that had, contrary to treaty, departed their reservation in Wyoming and South Dakota -- with good provocation, to be fair -- but in doing so, they trespassed on Crow territory. So the Crow invoked their treaty with the U.S., demanding protection. Of course, there's a lot more to it, there always is; but that's my point: usually the story is, Native Americans, good, U.S. bad. History is complicated because it involves people, who are complicated.

It's time to hit the road. Today's agenda is the Crazy Horse memorial, then Mount Rushmore. If time allows, I hope a longer post later.

Deep in the Wyoming Wild

Sorry for no post since Friday morning, but I was busy all day Friday at Grand Teton National Park, until about 3 when I headed north for Yellowstone. When I arrived at the lodge just east of Yellowstone, it was late, and to boot, the Internet was pretty bad. It's barely better now, so I probably will keep this short. Enjoyed drinks and dinner at a restaurant where Buffalo Bill Cody had his own hunting lodge, and supposedly entertained the Prince of Monaco 110 years ago. Several interesting people and details from that evening! This morning I headed back to Yellowstone, which is a two-hour drive from here; next time I will book earlier and be willing to pay more to be closer. Originally I planned to attend Mass in the park, but then discovered that didn't begin for another week; so I left early and drove into Cody -- a 2-1/2 hour drive east -- for Mass this evening. Picked up some BBQ in Cody (named after guess who?) and headed back to the lodge on a creek that is roaring as I speak, from the snow rapidly melting in the mountains. Tomorrow I'll return to Yellowstone again and see what I missed so far, before heading north to Montana, state number 46.

God willing, I'll have reliable Internet there and will catch up and post photos.

Day 5: Climbing

It was a stunningly beautiful day as I headed out of Fort Collins, cloudless sky, 75 degrees. Very quickly, I was climbing. To blow the surprise, I think the highest I got was at Shoshone National Forest, reaching over 9,000 feet above sea level. The trees disappeared fairly quickly out of Ft. Collins. Far to my left are snow-capped mountains as I traversed a broad, high plain. A little bit cultivated, but mainly grazing land, although I didn't see a lot of animals. And I discovered one reason these are called the Rockies: many of the mountains and hills look exactly like massive piles of rubble -- of rocks.

The trees returned, mostly conifers. As I passed into Wyoming along U.S. 287, the trees vanished, along with almost all vegetation. A lot of this drive looked almost like desert. To my right is a railroad track; to my left, long, parallel lines of snow fences. Lots of snow fences all along the drive. 

I decided to stop in Laramie, and on the approach, suddenly the road was a bit crowded. Discovered a Catholic church dedicated to St. Lawrence O'Toole:

After praying a few minutes, I headed on. Climbing west of Laramie, I saw repeated signs warning of possible road closures, due to snow I imagine. Here and there I saw white patches -- yes, I know what you're thinking, duh, it's snow! But I don't think so, it was too close to my level. A mountain looms up to my left: purple mountain majesty indeed!

The North Platte River actually looked like a river; at the same time, all the rivers I saw (some very narrow) were clogged with water. 

Espying the town of Sinclair, home of "the most modern refinery," I took another detour. Here I saw the Union Pacific line, which was the first railroad to unite the continent. The town was built by the Sinclair Oil Company, and here is the once-renowned Parco Hotel. The doors were locked, but the interior looked well kept. A sign suggested the local Baptist church owned the property.

Note the dinosaur; also, the railroad tracks and a UP caboose in the background:

On the way out of town, a sign informed me that Lincoln Street was part of the Lincoln Highway. Imagine trying to cross the country that way!

Back on the highway, I cross the continental divide for the first time, meaning a moment before, I was far west as you can be, and still claim in any way to be "east." It turned out my trek would weave among the mountains and bring me back and forth across that line, which demarks where the watershed drains either to the Mississippi, or to the Pacific.

Almost hit some critter in "Jeffrey City" which looked like an assembly of about ten buildings. Passing through Lander, I found myself in a broad, beautiful valley. There's a Brew Fest tonight, I won't make it back. My drive took me into the Wind River Reservation. Elevation about 5,500, on the way much higher. 

A sign -- easy to miss -- tells me the grave of Sacagewea is down a side road! I turned around and headed down the much rougher road. No more signs telling me where to turn, so I relied on Google to get me there. 

It is amazing to me that so little is made of the gravesite of such an important figure; perhaps she is not so important to the tribe whose land this is?

On the last leg of a six-plus-hour drive, I came to a total stop as the two-lane highway was getting repaved just ahead. The 15 minute pause gave me a chance to rearrange my cooler, stretch my legs and chat with the signalman. The traffic from the other side of the hill came through, and now it was our turn; after passing beyond that area, I came into a beautiful valley surrounding the Wind River, along U.S. 26. A sign on the side: "Stay in vehicle. Do not approach bears on the road." It wasn't the first time I was promised bears on this trip, but still none sighted. I intend to mention this in the Yelp review!

Reaching the summit, it seems, of my journey, in the Shoshone National Forest, I am stunned to see snow, not higher up, but all around me. The ambient temperature is 74. It just takes that long to melt. 

Around 5:30 pm I arrive at the Hatchet Inn:

After a good night's sleep, and having finished one more cup of coffee, I'm off to the Grand Tetons National Park -- I can see the peaks out the restaurant window right now. I'll spend the day visiting that park, then head north for Yellowstone, which I'll explore till Sunday afternoon.

Day 4: Suddenly West

As I left the La Quinta Inn in Dodge City, I snapped this photo in the back parking lot:

And as I pressed west and north, passing through a lot of small towns, I saw a lot of gear that looked authentically old and decrepit, like this. I wonder how much of the stock of wagons and surreys are still around?

My first leg took me along the original route of the Atcheson, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad, now part of Burlington Northern-Sante Fe R.R. The country was somewhat green, but still fairly dry; I realized everywhere I saw a copse or line of trees, that was a river or creek, and most of these latter were dry when I saw them. Looking ahead, I thought I saw mountains, but soon realized it was just a massive cloud bank. Turns out the earth really is round!

For whatever reason, it fascinates me to re-encounter roads familiar from the east: U.S. 50, 40 and 36, and eventually, I found myself back on I-70. But for the first couple of hours, I was on U.S. 400 and then some state and even local Kansas roads. No matter; there were few cars or even trucks and the posted speed limit was seldom less than 65. The tallest buildings were generally grain silos, water towers and then churches.

Frankly, this section of the trip was almost mesmerizing trip. Don't get me wrong: the landscape was pleasing, and the thought of all the food that is produced here was striking. But I found myself thinking about traveling through here not by car, but by wagon or by horse. I found myself thinking, under the right circumstances, it would make sense to form a convoy -- a wagon train -- with other vehicles.

A lot of the land wasn't cultivated, and it wasn't being grazed, that I could tell. 

Somewhere in far western Kansas, I saw two bicyclists conversing on the side of the road; I suspect they met going opposite directions. Not a tree for many miles, to provide any cover. 

Passing into Colorado, the sagebrush staged a comeback, and I realized, from signage, that I was gradually rising higher, with the elevation approaching (from memory) 4800 feet above sea level. High Plains indeed. West of Wild Horse, Colorado, I could no longer get any FM stations; somewhere before, I lost my cell signal, but got it back after a bit. 

I wasn't at all tired, but invariable landscape did tend to create a strange mental mood: good think I wasn't listening to "buy gold" ads, or I'd have pulled over and executed the sell and buy orders from the side of the road. So I found a news station and listened to very detailed commentary on the commodities and futures markets, not just locally, but worldwide. This area may seem remote, but folks here pay keen attention to the weather on six continents.

Then, as I rounded a long, rising bend, BOOM! The Rockies were suddenly ahead, the snow-crowned peaks knitting with the cloud-dappled sky. Imagine seeing that in a Conestoga wagon, and moving toward them, not at 75 miles per hour as I was, but at a much slower speed. You'd have lots of time to contemplate: how am I crossing that?

One flaw in traveling along state and local roads, in a sparsely populated place: no rest stops. I kept hoping, but finally, I had to pull over. I saw a historical marker telling the story of a massacre of Native Americans in the 1860sa massacre of Native Americans in the 1860s:

If you find this hard to read in the photo, realize that it was just as faded in reality. But, as interested as I was in learning more, I had a more basic need. Again, no trees! Without any more unwanted details, I handled it, and thankfully, not a car came by all the several minutes I stretched my legs at this spot. 

Finally, my wiggling west and north across Kansarado (I made that up) led me to I-70, which was busier than the back roads, but still not congested; that came when I reached the outskirts of Denver, and turned north on the bypass that took me past the airport and up to I-25, which led me -- slowly! -- into Ft. Collins.

Last night for dinner, I had Elk for the first time! No, I didn't shoot one along the way (wouldn't that be fun!); it was on the menu at the Farm House at Jessup Farms. When will I have the chance again? I have a rule for restaurants that look to be serious about good food: trust the chef. The double-rib chop came medium rare, and as game, it was almost purple in color. It was served on a bed of hashed potatoes, spinach, pork belly and garlic, and then surrounded by a "jus" of blackberries (or was it blueberries and raspberries, as one of the servers described it)? In any case, the presentation was a carnivore's dream and a vegan's massive coronary: it looked like a chop of meat in a sea of blood. I ate every bite, even gnawing what I could from the bones. If I ever make it back this way, I'll be glad to visit that restaurant again; it had a very interesting array of libations in the bar, and the wine offered was excellent.

Now it's time to get gas and ice -- the hotel here has a sign pleading with guests not to drain its ice machine, so I'll buy a bag at the gas station and head northwest. Can you guess where next?

Day 3: Oklahoma! (And western Kansas)

 

Call me sentimental, call me crazy, but when I travel like this, I often feel the romance of the places I visit. I think of the history and the imagery that lives in my imagination, fueled by so many movies and shows.

Yesterday morning, after a simple breakfast, and getting my fridge in order. Oh? You don't know...here's my fridge:

I have cold drinks and snacks, plus ice. As I can, I refill it, usually in the morning. Monday, I asked for ice at a McDonalds, the manager said, we don't give away ice, but he was nice and gave me some. I swear, I remember from my childhood McDonalds offering to fill coolers with ice -- to get customers in the store, of course -- but no one I've asked remembers that, including that kind manager. But hotels will do it. Only, here's a pro-tip: don't check out till after you get your ice, as you may need your room key to get access to the room with the ice machine.

Anyway, first stop in Tulsa was the Golden Driller.

If you shudder, as many want you to do, pause and contemplate how awful life would be on earth had petroleum never been developed.

Next, Oral Roberts University. You can read all about this spiritual entrepreneur, but the fact is, he built something pretty impressive in his university. Lots of modernist (if that is the right term) architecture, I wonder what serious architects say about it. Here are a couple of shots:

After this, the oldest Catholic church in Oklahoma, the Cathedral of the Holy Family.

I didn't realize till later I failed to get an exterior shot, as I was snapping pictures of other churches just down the street:

The more modern building to the right is part of the same complex. If you look closely, you'll see part of the front door on the older building is boarded up with plywood. Across the street is what looks to be a closed Church of Christ Scientist. The front and side were festooned with colorful cloths, and behind some of them, it appears homeless people have made their dwelling.

After this, the "Cave House," which some website said was worth seeing.

Around 12:30 pm, I headed west from Tulsa, crossing a large lake I assume is man-made, as part of the Arkansas River. AS I rocketed west (speed limits were generally between 65 and 80), the landscape gradually changed, as there were fewer leaf-bearing trees, and more firs and also more scrubby plants. I also noticed recurring pumps, which might be for oil -- or water. 

I admired the directness of Oklahoma signs: "Merge right now!" and "Speed 80: no tolerance." Also, kudos to Oklahoma drivers, they know what the passing lane is for. Road work along the Cimmaron Turnpike revealed orange-red dirt; I imagined that dirt blowing across the state, in the Dust Bowl era.

The terrain was lonely, and only a few cultivated fields for a long while, but plenty of cattle. Saw ranches with front gates, but no house in sight. At I-35, I turned north, then caught U.S. 64 and headed further west in Oklahoma. Saw a "parking area" -- not "rest stop." No bathrooms, no buildings. Past here, I started to see more crops: corn and wheat; is there a red-colored wheat? Saw that, too. 

Hey, Oklahoma: you have boring, albeit logical, street names -- i.e., numbered streets and avenues. I listened to country all the way. Oh, and saw this sign in far-west Oklahoma: "Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates" -- just before reaching Alva, which after a long stretch of nothing, seemed like a big city.

After Alva, and going up a curving rise and passing behind some hills, a vista opened up that took my breath: "this is the West!" It looked like a dozen John Wayne movies. This is when I saw some fluffy green plants, kind of sage-colored, and then realized: that's sagebrush. Pretty soon it was everywhere. Saw my first buffalo as I neared the town of...Buffalo.

I turned north on U.S. 183, which took me into Kansas, and as it did, the trees nearly disappeared. Hills and hills with nothing but crops -- or grass. Also began to see some facilities with very large numbers of cattle. Again, making me think of John Wayne's "The Cowboys," although that ended in Montana, I think.

Arrrived at Dodge City, Kansas around 5 pm, and looked around. There's an entertainment facility here, but the pricing assumes you're spending many hours there. They have a gunfight at 6:30 pm, a "country dinner," and a variety show. The clerk at the hotel didn't seem impressed, and I opted not to go. Did I make a mistake?

The hotel is on Wyatt Earp Boulevard, which is populated by lots of restaurants, almost all of which are Mexican. No offense to Mexicans, but I don't really love Mexican food north of the Rio Grande (I enjoyed it very much when I have visited Mexico). The golf course restaurant seemed the only alternative, apart from fast food (and a Thai restaurant).

Now it's time to hit the road to Ft. Collins, Colorado, which again sounds like a place a John Wayne character visited, but I didn't find anything after a quick search. Feel free to verify this in the comments.

Day 2: Great American adventure

After Fenton, MO, that meant saying goodbye to I-70, which is oddly wistful, that was a connection to Ohio. That first day, Indiana and Illinois whizzed by, and honestly, it's not easy telling them apart, except: Indiana has to work on I-70 between Richmond and Indianapolis, and when I drove through the Hoosier state, I tuned into plenty of classic rock and even some swing music; but southern Illinois was all country.

I almost got off for gas just short of the Mississippi, but noticed at the last minute some signs for a NASCAR event; and no, I didn't want to get all mixed up with that. I made that mistake years ago, deciding to drive past U. of Tennessee stadium on a lovely Saturday afternoon in September, just 100,000 fans exited, and don't you know, they all wanted to head in the same direction (the Smokeys) as I did? 

While driving, I played the game of looking for different license plates, and didn't see many Ohios. Where the road was straight enough, I offered the "O-H!" gesture, but didn't look back to see if I got an "I-O!" in response. 

I did notice quite a lot of Ontario 18-wheelers, and one truck driven (or owned) by a very serious Sikh. How do I know? The truck had images of Sikh warriors on it, and even an AK-47! One of life's mysteries.

Anyway, that was the road behind. Monday morning brought a trip on I-44, taking me toward Arkansas, where I would see my brother. He inconveniently moved recently from St. Louis, but no matter. I got plenty of sun and country music and curious sights as I traveled the rolling hills of southern Missouri.

Interstate 44 featured:

- A "Wild Animal Adventure Park" that looked like something run by Ma and Pa Kettle. If I had the time, and was actually getting paid for these posts, it would have made a good story to stop, pay the fee, and find out exactly what "wild animals" were behind the greyed wood fence, plastered with ridiculous slogans. Maybe raccoons and possums? 

- A "Sexual Health and Wellness Center" -- really? Then I saw the next line: "DVDs, lingerie..." Oh! 

- Jesse James Museum.

- A place/business called "Uranus." The very first billboard set me off laughing for many miles, I had to pause my Rosary. That sign was: "Uranus Fudge Factory."

- Fascinating rock formations where the highway cut through the hills. Anyone know what sort of bedrock in this area? I can tell you there are LOTS of caves, judging by the billboards.

- Several overturned vehicles in the median strip.

- Lots of churches, period, but many of them in particular having cryptic names like, "The River" and "The Well" and "The Nook" (or was it Rook?); there goes another: "Courageous."

- A young lady in a car with Texas plates who seemed to be flossing her teeth. In the fast lane, natch.

When I turned off I-44, and picked up some supplies at Wal-Mart, I headed south along S.R. 37, also labeled the "Trail of Tears" Route. Also the trail of many uprooted trees and some flooding from recent storms. And the trail of slow-poke drivers, but I was ahead of schedule.

This route took me through the town of Freistadt, which centers on a huge Lutheran church, and featured a Bierman's Restaurant (not sure of spelling) that looked to have closed some time ago, alas. And later, through Monett, which looked pretty sad, perhaps because the Peking Restaurant had also gone out of business.

And, this part of my journey saw gas under $3!

The place where I picked up U.S. 62 (which goes through Ohio) looked like Whistle Stop from "Driving Miss Daisy."

After a nice visit with my brother, who is almost 13 years ahead of me and his excellent health is both an encouragement and a rebuke (he eats better and gets to the gym), it was time to press on toward Tulsa. Part of my objective in this adventure is to tick off several unvisited states. When I crossed into Oklahoma, I reached 44. Question: are you in Oklahoma when you enter the Cherokee Nation? At any rate, I can tick off that place too. Thanks dear Cherokees for a lovely turnpike (nearly empty). 

Last night's stay was in the Catoosa Inn, and looming on the near horizon, just outside the hotel lobby, is the Hard Rock Casino. This morning I will see a few sights in Tulsa, and head further west. Oh, and one of my other games, while on the road, is to decide what famous person some random fellow traveler looks like. Sitting near me for breakfast was this guy from Breaking Bad (not exactly):

Where's that Sikh warrior when you need him?

Off to see the USA!

 

Well, it's not in a Chevrolet, but a Honda -- rhyme doesn't work -- but I'm off to see America! 

Sunday afternoon, immediately after our first Corpus Christi Procession for our St. John Paul II Family of Parishes, I jumped in the car and drove west; I didn't stop till I got to St. Louis -- although it turned out to be the wrong Pear Tree Inn, who knew there was more than one? But I sorted that out and got to the right one, about 20 minutes further down the road, so no backtracking. 

Where am I headed? Well, tune in soon for further updates! 

Oh, and robbers? The house is not empty. TOP* is there, enjoying a well earned respite from me. He may not react well if you snoop around! 

I'm writing this at the beginning of Day 3, so if things go well, I'll be able to do some catching up. 

*The Other Priest

Why Blood? (Corpus Christi homily)

The second reading talks about good things to come…

A “greater and more perfect tabernacle…”

An “eternal inheritance.”

In other words, the Holy Mass and the Eucharist 

is both about what happened “behind” us, at Calvary, 

and also about what lies ahead: Heaven.

But the readings also feature a harsh detail:

A reference to blood. 

The blood of animals that are sacrificed, 

and then Jesus tells the apostles he will offer – 

for them and for many – his own Blood.

Why would we want to have an emphasis on blood?

And what can that possibly have to do with heaven?

The blood was there, from the beginning.

The Passover, the deliverance of God’s People from slavery in Egypt,

 involved the blood of the oppressors’ first-born and the blood of the lamb.

Every year the Passover was relived, and in between, 

there were sacrifices offered day by day in the temple in Jerusalem.

Why would God want that?

Here’s the point: the blood is there to confront us with the reality of sin.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking: sin? All I ever do is get a little impatient.

All I ever do is maybe eat too much or have too many beers.

All I ever do is be too lazy or say some bad words.

But what God is confronting us with is the ugly truth of sin; 

however modestly or ineptly it originates, it eventually ends in blood.

Here’s a surprise for you. Emotions and feelings, 

like impatience, even anger, are not themselves sin. 

I repeat: feelings are not sins!

No: the sin comes next; what do I do with that feeling?

If I am angry, I might strike out with violence or cruel words.

Or, I might take on penance for the cruelty that arouses that anger; 

I might convert that emotional energy into working harder for justice.

Or I might just pray!

But the world isn’t infected with too much fairness, too much mercy.

We do not say at Mass: “Behold, the Lamb of God 

who takes away the compassion of the world,” 

but rather, “the sins of the world.”

Why are there wars in our world? They don’t start with bombs; 

they start with greed, with contempt, with selfishness.

When there are shootings overnight, 

they are mostly about theft or revenge, often related to drugs.

And when people in the suburbs consume illegal drugs, 

you’re at the nice end of a transaction that includes someone’s blood.

Because we prefer to forget the violence inherent in all self-worship,

God puts blood at the center of the great drama of human salvation.

“This is the chalice of my Blood, shed for you.”

To be a Christian, a Catholic, is a lot like Alcoholics Anonymous.

You can’t be in AA without first admitting, “I am an alcoholic.”

And you can’t be a Christian without admitting, “I need salvation.”

Not, “it would be nice,” or, “it’s good for the kids,” but rather,

“Without the Blood of Jesus, shed for me, I have no hope!”

And that brings me back to where I started; 

which, paradoxically, is not at the beginning but at the end: heaven!

The Eucharist, the Mass, is about both these realities at the same time:

The desperate infection of humanity called sin that destroys us;

And the healing that is underway that is summed up in one word: heaven.

Heaven is healing. Creation healed, above all, humanity healed.

No alienation from God or each other.

Once a year we have this feast of the Body and Blood of Christ 

to remind ourselves that both the sickness and the medicine are real.

The Eucharist is not just a symbol, a customary ritual.

We Catholics take this so very seriously because Jesus did.

He did not say, “take and eat this bread…this wine” but My Body, My Blood.

We do not pass out the Eucharist casually to any and all, 

not because we do not wish everyone to have this Salvation, 

on the contrary, we do!

But the Eucharist is not magic; and not a “thing” at all, but a Person.

The Eucharist is a kind of mirror, and those who come to receive him 

must face, in that Mirror, both the reality of our own sins, our violence, 

and that only Jesus’ Body and Blood can heal us.

Without faith and without conversion, the Eucharist is no remedy for us; 

and to receive the Eucharist without the right preparation 

is itself a grave sin, and brings a terrible hardening of heart.

And regarding receiving his Body and Blood, we do not say, “never,” 

only, “perhaps not yet” – first be ready, by faith, by baptism, 

by conversion and confessing mortal sins – and then, please come!”

You and I are not without hope; but we are not yet cured.

In the Eucharist, we behold what we dread and receive our only healing.

Memorial Day Picnic

Well, not really a picnic, other than we used an outdoor grill...

Dinner was tried and true favorites, except...

TOP* surprised me by offering to put together the antipasto. We also had Caprese Insalata; does that break the rules? TOP surprised me further and had me make him a Martin-tini (recipe below)**. "It's Memorial Day." I made the tomato salad and sauteed the mushrooms, while the ribeyes ($12.99 at Meijers!) were reverse-searing in the oven. Steaks came out perfectly; I have decided the salt-and-pepper should go on the steaks in the morning, not the day before. All this accompanied with Cabernet -- 14 Hands -- any better suggestions?

Everything came together perfectly, which is the virtue of a familiar menu.

Question: why don't restaurants serve something a little acidic, like tomato salad, with steak? The balance is perfect!

* The other priest.

** Two parts vodka, one part gin; both kept frozen. The vodka is shaken on ice; then the gin is added, and you stir it. (See what I did here?) Add a few drops of vermouth to the frozen glass before pouring the drink; garnish with two (or three) bleu-cheese stuffed olives. Key: stuff them yourselves! The pre-packaged types are worthless.

How to be the Image of God (Holy Trinity homily)

 Today we reflect on the reality of God being a Trinity: 

Three Persons, yet one essence. 

It was God the Son in human flesh – Jesus – who told us about this. 

He told us that Father is God; and that he, the Son, is God; 

and he told us about the Spirit, who is “another Advocate”—

the third Person in the Trinity.

So: we believe God is a Trinity, 

first and foremost, because Jesus told us this. 

We believe it because we believe him.

If you are a parent or a teacher, how do you explain things? 

Maybe you will use a diagram, or an image. 

And God did that too. 

Recall what Genesis says: 

“Let us make man in our image, after our likeness…”

God has given us an image of the Trinity – in us, in human beings.

So, let’s explore that.

Notice, first, that in creating humanity, 

he did not create a solitary being. 

He created us male and female. 

This is not a mere detail; it is foundational to who we are. 

Which is why it’s so problematic to muddy this up.

Think back to science class in school, 

when you and I learned that some of God’s creation 

multiplies simply by splitting apart. One amoeba, two amoebae. 

Remember that?

God created those, too; but that’s not how God created us to be. 

Rather, you and I were designed to enter into an intimate, 

totally self-giving relationship with each other: 

“male and female he created them.” 

So there’s an insight here into this whole marriage question. 

This isn’t about “hook ups,” but about a unique reality 

baked into the very bone and sinew of human nature.

By our nature, we are oriented toward relationship. 

A man, a woman; a husband, a wife; a father, a mother—a family! 

See how God created us to be his image?

God is not solitary, but persons-in-relationship, and so are we.

Let’s carry that one more step. 

And this will give you a very practical take-away from this homily.

God in himself—in Three Persons—is completeand whole; 

God doesn’t need creation, he doesn’t need the universe, 

and he doesn’t need us. 

God chooses—out of generous love—to create us, in order to include us.

If you and I are God’s image, 

then what I just described is part of what we are. 

For us to be truly human, you and I likewise are called to give and love, 

not out of any necessity, but out of self-gift, out of generosity.

It starts with a husband and wife, a family, but cannot stop there.

Not everyone will have children; and what happens after they grow up?

That fruitfulness is available to everyone, throughout our lives. 

Caring for the needy, the poor, the despised and forgotten.

Even to be generous and forgiving toward those who hurt us.

Again, is this not what the Holy Trinity does?

God sends rain on the just and the unjust. 

God the Son died on the Cross, not for the righteous, but for sinners. 

God provides an abundance for all his children, 

but how well it gets shared and multiplied depends on you and me.

The grace of God is available all the time to forgive and heal.

But who will invite others to receive it? That is your task and mine.

How about you, image-of-God? Do you want to show God to the world? 

Feed the needy, lift the burden from the backs of the oppressed, 

pay a just wage, speak up for those who are oppressed and forgotten, 

and forgive readily and generously. 

This is what it means to be the image of God.

The Holy Spirit is disruptive (Pentecost)

(The tale of this homily is a tale of life as pastor of three parishes becoming one. Some weeks are just not long enough. I could not begin this homily until Friday afternoon, and I ran out of time; the next day featured the ordination of priests in Cincinnati, after which, confessions and Mass. So I typed out what appears below, only the first half of the homily! Below, I'll add notes describing what I added, and intended to write out, but could not get to.)

When we talk about the Holy Spirit, Scripture gives us several images.

Ezekiel and the Book of Acts describe a powerful wind.

Jesus himself refers to “rivers of living water.” 

The Book of Acts also refers to fire – as does the Sequence.

There you have it: Wind, Water and Fire. 

It sounds like the name of a rock band.

Let’s look at each of these.

Wind or even breath: when we get the wind knocked out of us, 

that’s a terrifying moment; we’re immobile.

A breeze is awfully welcome when it’s hot, 

but a strong wind will reshape things, 

knocking down what we imagine is permanent.

Water is necessary for life. Did you know the Sahara Desert 

was once a lush forest? If the rains came back, so would life.

But here again: however gentle the rain or a babbling brook,

water is a force that ultimately will prevail.

Think of the Grand Canyon.

When we think of fire, you and I know 

both how essential it is, and how powerful.

All three images have this in common: they transform.

All three are mightier than you and I are.

They will overwhelm us if we try to stand in their way.

But if we cooperate?

That power, that transformation, brings life and beauty.

A thousand years ago, life moved pretty slowly. 

You could be born and live and die in a small village 

and never visit more than 100 miles in any direction. 

That’s not the world you and I live, even if sometimes we wish we did.

I invite you to consider that we can either be overwhelmed by change, be discouraged by it, or we can place some trust in the Holy Spirit 

that the mighty wind, the rushing water, the purifying fire –

However unpredictable and however disruptive, 

nevertheless is bringing, not darkness, but light; 

not destruction but new creation.

I concluded this homily by making several points:

- Citing Flannery O'Connor, God's grace is always working for our good, but it may not always be pleasant. Hence, the disruptions of the Holy Spirit may not be pleasant, but they are for our supreme good.

- That doesn't mean all the change we are experiencing is only and always what the Holy Spirit wants; the changes our parishes have gone through are the best we can manage, we hope the Holy Spirit prevails.

- But even in the best-case scenario, where the Holy Spirit prevails utterly, there will be disruption and challenge, so we shouldn't be surprised.

- I made a further point that, even the worst changes can be fruitful, citing the story of Chuck Colson, who was powerful in the Nixon Administration, caught up in Watergate, endured a spectacular fall, ending up in prison. Yet his life was transformed, and he gave the rest of his life to transforming others, and he would say as awful as his fall was, the fruit was worth it.

'The most important Holy Communion...'

Today*, and for the next four Sundays, till May 12,  

our family of parishes is doing something that may seem just for a few, 

but is actually important to all of us as a spiritual family. 

You and I are welcoming many of our children; to begin sharing in the Most Holy Eucharist. 

Let’s be clear why this is so important – starting with the not-so-important aspects. 

It’s nice that it’s a pretty day and we get to wear special clothes; 

we have parents and grandparents here, and there probably will be a party and presents. 

But we all know these are not the main thing. 

We can celebrate a birthday in the same way, but this is so much more important than a birthday. 

Why? Because Jesus came into the world to give himself to you. To me. 

He did so, first in baptism. He does so in each of the sacraments. 

But notice: marriage usually happens once. Confirmation certainly happens only one time. 

I’ve been ordained a deacon, and a priest, but I probably won’t be a bishop (and I don’t want to be)! 

We can and should come frequently to confession. 

We can receive the anointing many times, but that’s a bittersweet thought, isn’t it?

The Eucharist is meant for us to receive most often; even daily.

Boys and girls, I know you’ve been practicing for this.

I want to invite everyone to focus, not on the peripherals,

But on how reverent and focused our first communicants are.

This is an opportunity to contemplate how each of us receive Jesus.

Do you or I accept the Eucharist as the greatest gift of all,

Or more like how we might accept a can of pop or a napkin?

This is a valuable, delicate glass bowl.

If this were worth, say, $1,000, and I placed it in your hands,

How would you respond? You get the point.

What you’re being given – in your hands or on your tongue – 

is not worth $1000, but a gift of infinite value.

So, one reason First Communion Masses are so important 

is that every year, you and I have a chance to reflect 

on whether we have become too casual. I include myself in this.

Here’s another thing to notice in our first communicants.

Children, I know you and your parents and teachers 

have worked with you to understand what you can about the Eucharist.

You know that what is ordinary bread and wine, 

before it comes to the altar, truly becomes Jesus: 

his true Body and Blood.

It is Jesus himself who does this, through the priest, at the altar.

I would not be surprised to learn you can even explain this pretty well.

And the day will come, as it does for each of us, 

to be ready to tell others, in our words, what we believe and why.

This is valuable, but not the key thing.

What matters more is not how we explain, but how we show our faith.

The faith in your heart shines in your eyes and your actions.

The rest of us, witnessing that, are challenged to imitate your example.

I am challenged to recall 

the first time I offered Holy Mass, on May 25, 2003. 

There have been many thousands of Masses since.

If you are nervous or overwhelmed today, so was I that day!

But you remind me, today, that I need to return, in a sense, 

to that mindset of awe and wonder that can sometimes be lost.

Every one of us needs that.

Let me add this. As important as our first communion is, 

it is not our most important communion.

May I suggest that our most important communion is our FINAL one.

Many times I have brought the Holy Eucharist 

to someone at the hospital or at home, and as I did so, 

I saw that weary child of God close his or her eyes for the last time.

It is because that person wanted Jesus so much, 

That I can say with confidence

That the next time they saw was Jesus – in heaven!

You and I can never know when that last communion will happen.

So, we keep coming, week after week.

He will strengthen that hunger and that love!

One day it will be you, full of years, closing your eyes to this world, 

and receiving the fullest communion with Jesus forever!

This is just the first step. Thank you for letting us share your journey.

* I.e., last Saturday, April 20.

'The Resurrection and the Eucharist' (Sunday homily)

 The title of my homily is, “The Resurrection and the Eucharist.”

It’s all bound up together.

Let’s start with the Resurrection. 

To be totally clear, that means Jesus really died,

and his body came back to life. That is what we believe.

There are a lot of interesting details about Jesus’ Risen Body,

But what’s really, really important to pay attention to is this:

What Jesus shows us, is what he promises to give us.

Let me say that again so it sinks in:

What Jesus shows us, is what he promises to give us.

To put it another way: everything Jesus has, we too will have!

You and I will rise from the dead.

We will have our bodies back, new and improved, forever!

No more eyeglasses, no more pills, never again to say, “I’m too old!”

This not only tells us what to look forward to,

it also teaches us that our bodies matter right now.

A lot of people today, even a lot of Christians, 

make the mistake of thinking, 

their bodies don’t matter, only their feelings matter.

This feeds so much of the confusion right now,

about male, female, identity, marriage.

But you and I aren’t only made up of feelings:

my body, your body is part-and-parcel of who each of us is.

Of course we wish we could escape our body:

if only I could eat whatever I want?

If only I could stay up late, and not be exhausted the next day.

This is a lesson that we tend to learn as we get along in years:

you and I really can’t escape our bodies and ourselves,

and all the challenges and limitations involved.

Notice how many people spend so much money and effort 

to hold onto their youth. That is impossible.

It is living an illusion, and it will inevitably fail.

The only way is forward, 

is into the redemption that God has in store for each of us.

As so many of us know from daily experience,

growing older is a path of ever-greater humility, leading to salvation.

We behold Jesus, having suffered, having died, and having risen.

He shows us: this is who you really are, and who you can be!

And very important: he still has his wounds!

You and I carry wounds, and Jesus is like us in that.

Redemption doesn’t mean the bad things in our lives never happened;

rather, redemption means that grace transforms our wounds

from being limitations, to being channels of grace for us and others.

He said to the Apostles, and to us: “you are witnesses of these things.”

One of the powerful ways you and I show others 

that Jesus is real and alive and powerful

is when we show our wounds and how Jesus heals them.

Did I forget to talk about the Holy Eucharist?

Not really. I’ve been talking about the body: Jesus’ body and our body.

What is the Eucharist? Jesus’ Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity;

and what happens when you and I receive Jesus’ Body and Blood?

He changes us – our body, our soul – into him! 

So what is happening right now?

This isn’t about this homily or even the readings.

Those are the warm-up for the main event, which is:

Jesus’ death and resurrection, made present here, for us.

We don’t just think about it, or call it to mind.

God makes it all fully real for us in the Mass, which is a true sacrifice; What happens here at this altar, in our presence,

is what happened in Jerusalem almost 2,000 years ago.

At the very same time, we are also united with the still-to-come:

That resurrection reality to which we are headed,

Where you and I will share the Heavenly Supper of the Lamb.

I cannot emphasize this enough:

As baptized Christians, we are not spectators.

And we must not approach this sharing in Jesus’ sacrifice casually.

Nothing is more solemn. Joyful yet serious. 

If anything is a true “life or death” situation, the Eucharist is:

Eternal life, either embraced or dismissed.

This is why you and I must never receive the Eucharist 

in a state of mortal sin without first going to confession.

This is why we do well to remind ourselves, every possible way, 

of the astounding reality: we are in the very presence of God;

God gives himself to us totally: 

Becoming human, in order to become the Lamb sacrificed, 

and we eat his Body and drink his Blood.

So in a way, I have to apologize. 

Maybe you just wanted a relaxing Sunday, and here I am, laying something very profound before you,

forcing you to deal with it.

But I think that’s what Jesus is already doing.

You and I must always re-ask ourselves:

Are we dealing merely with a happy story; 

or is this the Reality that defines all reality? 

Jesus presents himself not only to the Apostles, but to us:

“You are witnesses of these things.”

Heaven or hell (Divine Mercy Sunday homily)

All during Lent we were on a pilgrimage to the Cross. 

Now we are at the empty tomb. The next step on our journey? Heaven.

This is what our Faith is about: heaven.

Resurrection -- Easter -- the seven sacraments: 

Christ went through all that he went through, because he wants us with him in heaven.

So: What is heaven?

The Catechism of the Catholic Church says a number of things about heaven. 

If we die in God’s grace and friendship, and after any needed purification – that is, Purgatory – 

then we “live forever with Christ,” 

and we are “like God for ever, for [we] ‘see him as he is,’ face to face” (1023).

Heaven is “paradise with Christ”; 

it is the “perfect life with the Most Blessed Trinity,” with Mary, the angels and all the saints. 

Again, quoting the Catechism, “Heaven is the ultimate end and fulfillment 

of the deepest human longings, the state of supreme, definitive happiness” (1024).

But the key idea is that “To live in heaven is to be with Christ” (1025). 

So if you want to know what heaven is like, look at the Gospels. 

Look at the Apostles who spent their time with Jesus, 

And ask yourself: is that what you want?

Do you want to be with him?

Know this: Jesus Christ really wants you with him in heaven.

The Cross is the proof of that. Look what God went through.

If you ever wonder if God loves you, and more than that, 

if you wonder if he wants you to forgive you, look at the Cross.

Still: you and I have to choose this. 

And that choice we make today – and every day.

We don’t just wander our way to Heaven. Heaven is a choice.

More than that: heaven isn’t only after death; heaven starts here.

This is what the first reading describes:

God’s people living changed lives. Heavenly lives.

If it is true that you and I begin to experience heaven in this life, 

then surely the opposite is true: 

that we can begin to experience hell on earth, too.

We might think of Judas, who betrayed Jesus.

He knew he had done wrong; he even expressed sorrow.

But what he did not do, that we know of, was ask for mercy.

If Judas went to hell – as I fear he did – 

His hell started for him long before he got there. 

Sadly, a lot of people are in a similar place:

They have decided they cannot change, 

they cannot leave habits of drink or anger, hatred or lust behind them.

There’s a secret about sin that no one ever tells you.

It starts out so nice. The being drunk feels good. The lust feels good. 

The self-righteous wrath feels so good. And it will, for a while.

But over time, it doesn’t make you feel as good as it did.

And you get to the point where it doesn’t make you even a little happy;

but you don’t know how to live without it.

Some of the most damnable words are: “I can’t change.”

That is a lie. The true statement would be, “It's too hard. I’ve stopped trying.”

Thank God Thomas did not rule out changing his mind.

Christ came back, just for him, and said, “put your hands in my side.” 

Our Lord Jesus will go to amazing lengths to rescue us.

The most beautiful sign of this is so simple, we miss it.

That is the sacrament of confession. 

When you and I are in the confessional, we are that thief on the cross. 

Absolution from a priest is to be in paradise. 

To be forgiven is our ticket to heaven.

But, what if I lose that grace through mortal sin, what do I do? 

I go back to Jesus, in the confessional, and I ask again.

I wonder if we shouldn’t put a sign on the confessional door:

“Doorway to heaven.” It’s true!

Of course, a lot of people get frustrated because,

even after you come from confession, you struggle with the same sins.

Indeed. That’s purgatory. No one escapes the way of the Cross.

But if we are willing, you and I can have our purgatory here.

It is not easy. It can be excruciatingly hard.

If you want become holy, 

Whatever else you do, keep coming to confession.

Some people avoid it, 

precisely because they keep tripping over the same sins. 

Here’s what I’m going to tell you. 

No matter what you think, if you keep coming to confession, 

You will change. It will happen. 

It will happen on God’s timetable and in his way, not yours.

He will make you a saint!

But not on the strength of you wanting it, which is puny;

But on the strength of His wanting it: which is everything.

'You are there' (Holy Thursday homily)

 A few years ago, I made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land,

And I walked the real, original Way of the Cross 

through the streets of Jerusalem.

I was able to be at the place of the Last Supper, 

and the Garden of Gethsemane and Golgotha, and the empty tomb.

I was with other priests, and we had Mass – at Calvary! Right there!

We had Mass at the empty tomb: 

the very stone on which Jesus lay was our altar.

Now, because it is God’s work and not merely a human work,

the Mass is the Mass is the Mass, wherever and whenever.

Every Mass brings us to Calvary – every single one.

Nevertheless, when you and I come to this evening, 

if we realize what we’re doing, there is something electric about it.

All of Lent has been a journey to this moment. 

We have prayed, fasted and shared our blessings with others, 

so that we, like the Apostles, 

can prepare to celebrate the Passover with the Lord.

The Passover, remember, was first celebrated in Egypt.

God’s People were slaves; and on the night of the Passover, 

God executed judgment against Egypt, and Israel left in haste.

To understand fully the Sacrifice of the Mass, 

it helps to recall what happens when God brings his People to Mt. Sinai.

There, God not only gives Moses the Ten Commandments, 

He also explains the details of how they are to worship:  

how the place of worship is to be arranged, 

how the altar is to be constructed, and the sacrifices offered.

After all this, Moses leads the elders of Israel up Sinai, 

to ratify the covenant. And the Scripture says, 

“They saw God, and they ate and drank” the sacrifice.

Think about that in relation to the Last Supper – and the Mass:

“They saw God and they ate and drank.”

Did you ever wonder why the altar is traditionally elevated?

As at Sinai, we go up to meet God.

In a few minutes, I will go up to this altar, and on your behalf,

I will address the God of Sinai, our Father.

When we sing, “Holy, Holy, Holy,” 

we are joining the heavenly hosts adoring Almighty God!

The same angels who gazed on Calvary with amazement.

When some of us were kids, there was a TV show, 

“You are there,” and it took you back to some moment in the past.

But this is way beyond any TV show.

Brothers and sisters, we are there!

At Calvary, at the Tomb, and also, in heaven – all at once.

The priest then says, “Graciously accept this oblation” –

 what is an oblation? 

An oblation is an offering of food and wine, from the people to God.

It stands for you. You, and your prayers, works, joys and sufferings, 

go to the altar in that bread and wine.

The priest extends his hands like this. 

That is meant to suggest a dove – that is, the Holy Spirit.

In the Old Testament, God’s Fire would come down upon the sacrifice. 

On the Day of Pentecost, God’s Fire came down upon the Church.

In the Mass, it is the Holy Spirit that makes our offerings

“become for us the Body and Blood of [the] beloved Son, Jesus Christ.”

If you wonder why the priest sometimes faces the same way as the people; or, otherwise, seems to be focused upward, or toward the altar, it is because these words, at this point, are addressed to the Father.

On Thursday evening, that first Mass begins with the Apostles.

The next day, on the Cross, Jesus the true Priest

offers his Body and Blood to the Father. 

His Body is broken; his blood is poured out.

At the Last Supper, Jesus’ disciples would not have been surprised 

had the Lord pointed to the body of the lamb – on the table – 

to talk about covenant and sacrifice.

But what the Lord did was take in hand, not the flesh of the lamb,

But rather, the bread and the wine, and said:

This is my Body, given for you, this is my Blood, 

of the new and eternal covenant – eat and drink!

This was new. No one had ever done that before.

Then on Calvary, on the Cross, he completes the Passover.

He takes a last sip of wine, offered on a sponge and says, “

It is finished.”

And after the Resurrection, he showed himself alive,

that’s when the Apostles understood; and our Holy Mass is the result.

We do this sacrifice, as he commanded, in memory of Him.

Notice the priest lifts up the Body, and then the Blood.

While this allows you to adore the Lord, that is not the primary reason.

Rather, the Body and Blood are lifted up to the Father.

This is a Sacrifice: Christ offered himself to the Father.

The priest offers Christ – and us, with Him – to the Father.

The separation of body and blood recalls his death.

When the priest later puts a part of the Sacred Host into the chalice,

That signifies Christ’s Body and Blood being “together” – 

pointing to his Resurrection.

There’s one more detail worth reflecting on.

When this happens, the priest sings, “Mystery of Faith.”

The origin of this part of the prayer is unclear, but – 

It’s kind of like a big, flashing sign that says,

“This, this – right here, this! This is the moment!

This is the mystery; this is pulsing heart of the whole thing!”

After this the priest begs the Father 

to accept this “pure victim, this holy victim.”

Of course the Father will accept this Sacrifice; 

and yet this summarizes the whole drama of salvation.

Without Jesus, none of us can be saved. 

Everything in the Old Testament led to this.

This moment – I mean, tonight; and I mean, the Mass; 

and, the moment when Jesus once offered himself;

all of that is made present for us here at this Mass –

This moment is the pivot point of all history.

There are so many people who long to be here, but cannot.

How sad that many Christians, many Catholics, are oblivious to this.

Tonight, we are there: in Jerusalem; at the Cross.

The Blood of the Lamb protects us. 

The flesh of the Lamb is our salvation.

This is our week (Palm Sunday)

 Listening to the Gospel we heard--the heart of our Faith --

Makes me fall silent. Maybe you, too.

That’s why we do this every single year.

If you’ve come this far in Lent, 

it may be that you feel you missed the boat.

You can still make Holy Week your Lent.

If you ever said, I wish I knew my Faith better, 

may I suggest that taking time during Holy Week,

to come on Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil?

These days will help you go deeper into our Faith,

because this week is the heart of our Faith.

If you wish you’d gone to confession—it’s not too late. 

There are confessions Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.

If you are worried about crowds on Easter Sunday, 

the Vigil should have plenty of seats. 

At Our Lady of Good Hope, a group of men, women and children 

will be baptized and confirmed 

and receive Jesus in the Eucharist the first time.

This is his week; it’s our week.

It’s about what we did to the Lord; 

even more, what he did for us.

Not rules but relationship (Sunday homily)

 The first reading is about God’s Law: 

God’s Ten Commandments, God’s “Rules.” 

Rules are necessary, like it or not.

And while we all love to complain about rules, 

the truth is, we actually LOVE rules. 

Why do I say that? Because people will ask me a question,

and I’ll try to explain the Church’s teaching, 

and you know what people come back with?

“Just give me the rule, Father!”

As I said, rules are useful.

To quote the late Father Michael Seger, 

who taught moral theology at the seminary in my time:

“Rules exist to protect values”:

“Thou shalt not kill” protects the value and dignity of human life.

All that said, life is always more than rules!

God came to earth, becoming one of us, 

to invite each of us into a relationship with him.

To know him – not only as Creator, and as Savior, which he is –

But just as much as a brother and a friend.

So now, let me pose a question,

And I hope you’ll work it over in your mind:

Is your Catholic Faith mainly about following rules?

Getting to Mass on time; keeping the communion fast;

no meat on Fridays during Lent;

not going too far on a date, and so forth;

and if you break a rule, then get to confession before communion.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking down rules, I’m saying, go further!

If your faith is mainly about rules? You’re missing it!

Our Faith is mainly, crucially, about a relationship!

God is a Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

So God is – within Himself, in a way we can’t quite explain – 

a relationship.

Life is a relationship. 

A relationship enabled you to exist.

You never have been an island all to yourself, and you never will be.

Maybe the reason God created the world this way 

was so that his invitation to a relationship with him 

would be amplified and re-echoed in everything we experience; 

to give us every advantage, to have courage to believe, first, 

that a relationship with God is possible…

And then to find it easier to follow the path he gives us 

to that relationship – so we would be successful.

We like rules because they are simpler.

Relationships are much harder.

Lots of people are married – happily, it would seem –

yet they don’t talk very much; 

they don’t spend much time alone as a couple. 

Lots of our children need to talk to their parents: 

so many of our girls are lied to about their value;

so many of both boys and girls are looking at stuff on their phones 

they know is poison, but they don’t know how to stop.

Kids: no one in the world loves you as much as your mom and dad.

Talk to them!

Parents, you know they are scared: so you take the first step.

Relationships take work but they are worth it.

True for friends and family, most true with the God who made you,

and who died on the Cross to save you,

to have a relationship with you forever.

Those money-changers Jesus confronted that day?

They must have been so confused, because, after all:

They were following all the rules!

Don’t just follow the rules: know God!

Talk to him, discover him; make friends!