Disturb Us, Lord

I found the following prayer going through some old files and Facebook postings. Given the light of entering into the celebration of the Paschal Triduum, I thought that it was appropriate to share.

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Prayer of Sir Francis Drake, 16th Century

(This prayer was found in his ship's diary, written on the eve of one of his great adventures:)

Disturb us, Lord, ...when we are too well pleased with ourselves, When our dreams have come true Because we dreamed too little, Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when With the abundance of things we possess We have lost our thirst For the waters of life; Having fallen in love with life, We have ceased to dream of eternity And in our efforts to build a new earth, We have allowed our vision Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly, To venture on wilder seas Where storms will show Your mastery; Where losing sight of land, We shall find the stars.

We ask You to push back The horizons of our hopes; And to push us in the future In strength, courage, hope, and love.

This we ask in the name of our Captain,
who is Jesus Christ.

Amen


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Enjoy the journey . . .

Paradox

Homily for Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord
Sunday, 24 March 2013

        Acclamations and abandonment. Triumph and trial. Elation and execution. Blessings and betrayals. “Hosanna!” and “Hail, King of the Jews!” The palms and the Passion. Glory and gall. The crowds and the Cross.

        My friends, we gather on this Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion to celebrate the paradoxes of our faith. We memorialize once again the fact that we praise the Lord for all He has done for us, yet we also share in His Passion and Death. Yet this Sunday is different.

        This day, this celebration helps us enter in to the most holy time of the Church’s calendar. What we remember each time through Word and Sacrament is brought now to a profound memory, an active memory in the collective life of the Church.

        The Paschal Mystery of Christ, the Mystery of the Cross helps us to recall that setting in which the mercy of God is most profound. It is in that setting which we mystically join in through our participation in the Eucharist. It is through these mysteries – these mysteries of paradoxes – that we understand how acclamations and abandonments, triumphs and trials, elations and executions, blessings and betrayals are truly complementary to one another.

        The Cross Itself is a paradox. Yet it is also that which must remain central to our life of faith. We recall the words of Pope Francis:

“When we walk without the Cross, when we build without the Cross, and when we profess without the Cross, we are not disciples of the Lord.”

        Even in the midst of our own crosses, we acknowledge the mercy of our God. Through the passions and sufferings of our own lives, the Lord still calls us to follow Him, just as He called Saint Dismas, the Good Thief, from His Cross. This points back to the words of our Holy Father. When we decide to do anything apart from the Cross, we choose not to follow Jesus. When we decide that we know better than Christ or His Church, we throw away the cross of suffering and discipleship and pick up the cross that’s stylish and fashionable, a cross that’s socially acceptable and “pretty”.

        Brothers and sisters, the cross we carry is ugly and hideous because of our suffering and pain. Yet, just like the Cross of Christ, it is made beautiful through our suffering and pain. That is the paradox of life: Our suffering and pain is to transform us into the beautiful creation God has made us to be. The Cross shows us how this is so. The Cross is the prime example of how to follow Christ even in the midst of our suffering and pain, just like Saint Dismas.

        In a special way today, we commemorate the paradox of our salvation with the words of Saint Andrew, the first disciple, upon seeing the wood of his own cross upon which he was to die:

O good Cross,
made beautiful by the Body of the Lord:
long have I desired you,
ardently have I loved you,
unceasingly have I sought you out;
and now you are ready for my eager soul.
Receive me from among men
and restore me to my Master,
so that He -
who, by means of you,
in dying redeemed me -
may receive me.
Amen.

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Enjoy the journey . . .

Prayer for a Difficult Situation

Lord, grant me strength and guidance.

Let me know that these choices I've made are really for the good of Your people, and not just my selfish pride.

Allow me to see past the heartache of the situation, and come to know that You're really working in and through everything.

Let this cross not be of Gestas, but of Saint Dismas, recognizing Your mercy, even in the midst of his suffering.

Comfort me and console me with Your wisdom.

Shepherd me, so that I may shepherd others.

Let me be that shepherd after Your Sacred Heart.

Allow the suffering in this situation to be joined with Yours on Your Cross, so that all involved may be redeemed through Your Passion and Death.

Allow the glory of Your Resurrection breathe new life into the hearts, minds, and lives of all involved.

Let us know of Your presence.

Protect us from the deceits of the Evil One.

Draw us to Yourself.

Give us Your peace.

Amen.


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I wrote this last night in response to an awkward and frustrating situation I'm involved in here at the parish. Please keep me, and all those involved, in your prayers. Thank you.

Enjoy the journey . . . 

A Requesting Prayer

Dear Lord:

I'm scared and frightened for the next step of the journey.

Yet I'm also excited and amazed for what is to come.

I don't know where You are taking me,

But I trust in You.

Your kindness and mercy have always been with me,

And Your fidelity to me and my life is beyond compare.

Sometimes I think that I'm crazy for having followed You so far;

Sometimes I seem to lose my trust and faith in You.

Nevertheless, You are with me.

Eyes close, I choose You as my guide;

Eyes open, I'm blinded by Your glory and power.

With closed hands, I can't let go of myself.

Open my hands, so that I may hold on to You.

My soul cries out to You, like a child crying out in lost terror for its parent.

Comfort me, O God; give me Your consolation!

Help me in the midst of my confusion and doubt.

Rescue me from my insecurities.

Grace me with wisdom and knowledge to know what is truly Your will.

Help me see and share in Your vision.

Purify my heart to become like Yours.

Overshadow me to become like You.

Allow me to taste if Your goodness.

Shield me from my enemies - human or otherwise.

Send me where You need me.

Use me as You need me.

Allow me to become a mirror for You,

Simply reflecting Your living presence in this world.

Save me from myself.

Empty me of my pride, selfishness, and self-centeredness.

Humble me to know only of exaltation through You.

Renew within me the gift of peace only You can give.

Allow me to know that I can love only because You loved me first.

Settle my anxieties.

Restrain my wild imagination.

Let my friends be holy, so that I may learn holiness from them, and they from me.

Transform my life to reflect Your radiance.

Be with me.

Make me like You.

Amen.

Enjoy the journey . . .

Something New

Homily for the Fifth Sunday of Lent
Sunday, 17 March 2013

        “Thus says the Lord . . . see, I am doing something new!”

        My brothers and sisters, we’ve had a lot of “new” in the Catholic Church this past week: A new pope, from the “new world”, with a new name, and, as some are considering, a new approach to the papacy. From the look of things, Pope Francis is making the Church “new”, in a manner of speaking.

        Our new Holy Father is, in some ways, following the example of Christ from this week’s Gospel. In a society where individual sinners were outcast in one way, shape or form, Jesus goes in the total opposite direction. Where Jesus could have verbally joined in the condemnation of the woman, He instead says nothing, simply writing in the dirt. Jesus chooses mercy over condemnation. He chooses humility over pride. He was doing “something new”.

        So we are called to do the same thing: to constantly choose to do something new in our lives. We are called to choose mercy over condemnation. We are called to choose humility over pride. We are called to choose silent witness over yelling with the masses. We are called to choose the radical way of love of Jesus Christ. We are called to choose the Cross and the journey to Jerusalem.

        My friends, we choose this new life, this radical way of love, we choose the Cross so that, as Saint Paul reminds us, that “[we] may gain Christ.” As we choose this new way of life, away from condemnation, away from pride and yet towards the Cross, we come to recognize that our journey to Jerusalem is inevitable.

This is why we need to encounter Christ – to make this inevitable journey one that becomes, in some way, bearable through His compassion, mercy and grace. To carry the Cross otherwise becomes unbearable.

This is why we need to encounter Christ – so that the world may know not of the condemnation of the cynical and sarcastic, but the mercy of God through us and our actions.

This is why we need to encounter Christ – because the “something new” being created by God is our hearts, our lives. The “something new” is the renewal of our lives to be conformed to God.

Blessed Teresa of Calcutta reminds us that we need to be the kind, good, blessed people of God that He has created us to be. She gives us this reflection:

People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

This great spiritual powerhouse of the Twentieth Century so quietly reminds us that it is that relationship between us and God which is to be dominant and central in our lives. We do what we do not just because Jesus tells us to be nice to others, but, rather, because OF our relationship with Jesus.

WE are that “something new” God is creating through our relationship with Him. 

WE become that “something new” when we allow God to transform our hearts to become like those of His Sacred Heart. 

WE become “something new” when we allow the Holy Spirit to enter into our lives and breathe into us a new relationship with God and each other. 

WE become the “something new” when we finally recognize that as we continue to travel the road to Jerusalem, the journey is never about *us*, but, rather, our relationship with God and others, and how we are to introduce others to God, and God to others.

When we quit the life full of condemnation, pride, selfishness, and recognize our sinfulness, we accept a life that’s full of mercy, humility, generosity, and come to know how our God saves us. It is in the Eucharist, through the celebration of the Sacrifice of the Mass, that we come to know this “something new” in our lives.

The woman caught in adultery came to know of the mercy and compassion of God – but only by recognizing her sinfulness. It’s now up to us, as we journey to Jerusalem and the Cross, to seek out God’s mercy and compassion. It’s now up to us to choose to become that “something new” that God is creating.

The Lord has given us, I believe, a wonderful example in our new Supreme Pontiff, Pope Francis, on how to travel with the Lord and to become that “something new” for the sake of Jesus Christ. May the Lord bless our new pope, and may we follow in his example of humility to seek the mercy of our God.

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Enjoy the journey . . .

Crash and Burn

Today was my day off. I threw in a random CD in the car's player. It was Daughtry's album, which is a great listen to for me from time to time.

His song, "Crashed", is one of my favorites on the album. Though I'm pretty sure he's talking about a physical relationship, I couldn't help thinking about my relationship with the Lord.

Here are the lyrics:

 Well I was moving at the speed of sound.
Head-spinning, couldn't find my way around, and
Didn't know that I was going down.
Yeah, yeah.
Where I've been, well it's all a blur.
What I was looking for, I'm not sure.
Too late and didn't see it coming.
Yeah, yeah.

And then I crashed into you,
And I went up in flames.
Could've been the death of me,
But then you breathed your breath in me.
And I crashed into you,
Like a runaway train.
You will consume me,
But I can't walk away.

Somehow, I couldn't stop myself.
I just wanted to know how it felt.
Too strong, I couldn't hold on.
Yeah, yeah.
Now I'm just tryin' to make some sense
Out of how and why this happened.
Where we're heading, there's just no knowing.
Yeah, yeah.

And then I crashed into you,
And I went up in flames.
Could've been the death of me,
But then you breathed your breath in me.
And I crashed into you,
Like a runaway train.
You will consume me,
But I can't walk away.

From your face, your eyes
Are burning to me.
You saved me, you gave me
Just what I need.
Oh, just what I need.

And then I crashed into you,
And I went up in flames.
Could've been the death of me,
But then you breathed your breath in me.
And I crashed into you,
Like a runaway train.
You will consume me,
But I can't walk away.

And then I crashed into you,
And then I crashed into you,
And then I crashed into you,
And then I crashed into you,
And I crashed into you,
Like a runaway train.
You will consume me,
But I can't walk away.

The whole notion of crashing into God and into His will seem to be a recurring theme in my life.  This is not to say that I'm not spending the quiet time I need with Him (though I could always use a little more), but it seems that on the days that on the days when I'm running around like a madman at the parish or the high school, the Lord "stops" in a way that I can't not help but crash into Him. It's honestly a very beautiful and awesome thing.

The idea of the first verse sparks in me those moments throughout those busy days when I seem to lose myself in the schedule; when, unfortunately, those moments of ministry just seem like another thing to check off the list. The running around keeps me busy, but, unfortunately and stupidly, not always focused on God. So much so that I really don't see God rushing at me head-first.

The refrain reminds me of how, when I do crash into the Lord, it can be something so overwhelming that I'm not too sure about how to respond. But that's the great gift of the Holy Spirit: He continues to breathe life into me (into us!) in those moments when I feel that I've had the wind knocked out of me. Yep, I crash into the Lord in those moments "like a runaway train", but I really cannot walk away, because His will does consume me. His will is my will - not just as a priest or a Catholic / Christian, but as a human being made in His image and likeness. And I know that, ultimately, HE does and will consume me, just as I consume Him in the Eucharist . . . and I can't walk away from that.

The second verse intuits the human soul - and my soul - when we encounter God as He truly is inside us. I don't want to stop knowing how God continues to form me, to mold me, through my many encounters with Him. Yet I know that His presence is just to strong for me to hold onto anything else. And I do try to make some sense on how **this** happened. (**THIS** being anything: my life, my vocation, my assignments, my relationship with family and friends, etc.) As for the line "Where we're headed, there's just no knowing" . . . well, God knows where it's all heading. I certainly don't. But that's the awesomeness and beauty of all **this**.

The bridge is awesome when we think of it in the context of contemplative prayer or Eucharistic adoration - that from His Holy Face, His eyes burns into me - burn into us! - so that we may know the great gaze of Love with which He looks upon all His children. And to think - especially as we have been throughout this Lenten season - about how He has saved me (us!) and has given me (us!, again) just what I've (we've) needed. That's overwhelming, indeed! But, nonetheless, important. It's in these silent moments - these "silent crashes" - that I have come to recognize the joy that comes from being consumed by Him who has loved me (us!) first.

Crashing into God has allowed me to see myself as I truly am and how He sees me. Yes, I'm flawed, I'm a sinner, and I've needed His help more times than I can count. But that's the very reason that I can go on. God will never let me go too far out of control without stopping Himself so that I can crash into Him to be renewed and receive His breath of the Holy Spirit. This is why frequent visits to the Sacrament of Reconciliation is so very important. This is why going to Mass every week (or every day, if one is able) is so very important. The more opportunities we allow ourselves to crash into the Lord, the more times we will be able to be consumed by Him to do His will.

We're never too busy to take that moment in prayer. We're never too busy to recognize the workings of God in our lives. We allow the temporal world to distract us from the eternal - and that includes doing those wonderful works in His Name. But when we go too far of course, it's wonderful to know that God will allow us to crash into Himself.

When we run away from the crash, it's going to be on fire. It's our choice of one of two ways in which we respond: 1. To run and be on fire to do His will with the gifts of the Spirit; or 2. To run away, trying to put out the flames. The first way is to allow the fire to purify us to be found worthy to do His will. The second is to run away in our cowardice, afraid to see what God truly has planned for us.

We'll all crash into God at some point in our lives. That's inevitable. How we respond is our own choice. The question then becomes:

Do I allow the fire to burn, or do I put even the smallest flame out?




Enjoy the journey . . .

History in the Making

This was my view at the time of the sede vacante:

While on vacation I stopped at Saint Vincent Basilica in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, to hear the bells ring at 2:00 PM local time to announce that the Catholic Church was without a chief shepherd.




It's now been a little over a week since Benedict XVI became our "pope-emeritus". 

And history has been made.


Again.


Of course, any time of transition can be considered "history in the making". Every four years for us in the United States is history in the making when we elect our president. And for that matter, each and every day is always "history in the making".

But this time, for us as Catholics - and even for the modern world - this is different.

Yes, it's been 600 years since the last pope stepped down from the Office of Peter. But there was no blogging, no Facebook, no Twitter, and no 24-hour news channels. We didn't have people all over the world trying to guess in such a large way who the next pope would be. We - not just Catholics, but society as a whole - have become obsessed with the Papal Election. And I think that, in some ways, that's a win for the Catholic Church.

However, the impatience of society, and all the speculation going on, is really driving me a little crazy. Why are we trying to guess the work of the Holy Spirit? For us as Catholics, it's not our job to criticize the work of the Spirit, or try to "influence" Him in any way. Of course, that also means that we don't become interested in and understand how our Church works. What it means for us is that we pray to the Holy Spirit for guidance on the College of Cardinals that they will choose the best man for the job. For as Catholics, it also means praying for the next pope.

Yes, while we can't do a physical thing to elect the next pope, we can do something spiritual for him. And that spiritual thing is something more greater than anything physical. Our prayers for guidance, and not influence, will allow the cardinals to do the job they have gathered in Rome for. If Pope-emeritus Benedict XVI can stay out of history's way in the making of this decision, surely we can as well.


But this doesn't mean we can't have some fun with this period of time, as well.

Our youth ministry had a little fun on a snow day. Presenting to you His SNOWliness, Pope Frostinius I. The flamingos surrounding him are his "Swiss Guard". 

And I even got the opportunity to meet His Snowliness in person, or, I should say, "snowson":

 

It was a great day!



Ideally, we just need to be patient, to pray, and allow the Holy Spirit do what He needs to do to ensure that the best man is chosen as our Chief Shepherd. Nothing more, nothing less.


Come, Holy Spirit!







Enjoy the journey . . .