Off Again!

Tomorrow is an exciting day for me. I leave for a pilgrimage to Ireland and Scotland. I haven't been to these countries yet, and so am glad to have this opportunity.

The chance to visit lands with not just unique cultural heritages, but also lands which have a deep influence within the realm of Christendom, is something that I never thought I'd actually do. But, of course, I never thought I'd go to Australia, and I was wrong on that part.

Even though I've had two years to prepare for this pilgrimage, the realization that I'm actually going didn't hit me until yesterday while I was packing. From the time I got home from Guatemala a month ago, I've been busy with the parish festival, school starting, prep for ministry training, and other parish and personal activities. I really hadn't taken the time to really appreciate this pilgrimage taking place. 

And so, with only about twenty-four hours to go until I leave, there's still stuff to do - for the parish and for the trip. All will be well. I'm not worried about it.

But, before I take off for the Emerald Isle, I'll have the opportunity to see my friend's Irish band play tonight for a "Half-Way to Saint Paddy's Day" Celebration. That should get me in the mood.

Of course, for the celebration tonight and for the days to come, one great image comes to mind for this pilgrimage: Saint Brigid's Lake of Beer Poem / Prayer:

 
I'd like to give a lake of beer to God.
I'd love the heavenly
Host to be tippling there
For all eternity.

I'd love the men of Heaven to live with me,
To dance and sing.
If they wanted, I'd put at their disposal
Vats of suffering.

White cups of love I'd give them
With a heart and a half;
Sweet pitchers of mercy I'd offer
To every man.

I'd make Heaven a cheerful spot
Because the happy heart is true.
I'd make the men contented for their own sake.
I'd like Jesus to love me too.

I'd like the people of heaven to gather
From all the parishes around.
I'd give a special welcome to the women,
The three Marys of great renown.

I'd sit with the men, the women and God
There by the lake of beer.
We'd be drinking good health forever
And every drop would be a prayer.

Please keep me in prayer during this pilgrimage, as I will keep you in prayer. I hope to have a great reflection when I return.

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Enjoy the journey . . . 

Look Up!

Homily for the Feast of the
Exultation of the Holy Cross
14 September 2014

        As many of you know, I had the great opportunity to return to Guatemala last month for a mission trip. I find myself always excited to go back there.

        But this time was different.

        On this particular trip, we spent a free day in the city of Antigua, the capital of the country before Guatemala City was established in 1776. Never having visited Antigua, I did a little research about it prior to our visit. When looking at some of the attractions, I noticed El Cerro de la Cruz, The Hill of the Cross. The pictures looked wonderful. I thought, “This is something that I’m going to have to see.”

        And I did.

        Along with two other missionaries, we climbed the Hill of the Cross. Though not an easy climb, it was well worth it. Not only does one have the opportunity to see below to Antigua and Volcán Agua to the South, but you have a chance to appreciate up close that which you see from the distance below – the Cross standing victorious, yet unassuming, against the impressive backdrop or nature.

        But whether you’re below in the city or standing on the Hill of the Cross itself, one thing remains constant: You have to look up at the Cross.

        “Looking up” seems to be an old spiritual maxim. The psalms have us “looking up” to the mountains. Our First Reading has the Israelites “looking up” to the bronze serpent. Our Gospel foretells that people will be “looking up” at the Son of Man.

        Even today, we continue to “look up.”

        As I prepared for our Mass today, my mind immediately turned to the experience I had of “looking up” at the cross in Antigua. However, I was also hit the great paradox of this feast.

        The Cross, Itself, is a paradox: The Mystery of how an instrument of death brings about new life. And yet, there is also a relational paradox, if you will, that should draw us deeper into the Mystery: While we look up, He looks down.

        While standing on El Cerro de la Cruz, looking down was a natural inclination: the beauty of the city below helped us appreciate the climb to get to the Cross. The same might be said of our Lord: the sight of His Mother and friends below Him, the Lord, looking down, could appreciate (for lack of a better word) the ascent of Calvary and His lifting up on Golgotha.

        Looking down, despite the gruesomeness of His Passion, our Lord still saw the beauty of His Creation.

        Looking up, we see the lengths by which our God would go to show us the depths of His love.

        Looking down, our Lord invites us to know the full gift of His mercy.

        Looking up, we see the full weight of what our pride and sinfulness have done to our relationship with God.

        Looking down, we see how God humbled Himself to share in our humanity so that we may one day share in His Divinity.

        Looking up, we come to truly realize that the crosses of our lives need not overwhelm us with an earthly death, but bring us closer to eternal life.

        We look up because, for us, look down is self-defeating. We look up because, for us, we can appreciate all that God has given to us. We look up because, for us, that’s the only way we can see our Savior, looking at Him eye-to-eye, and recognize not the condemnation of the world, but its salvation.

        Yes, there are those who look up and make fun of the Cross, who mock the Cross, who condemn the Cross. It is our job to help them look up and see the beauty of the Cross, the beauty of Its Mystery, the beauty of Its Paradox. It is our job to help them look up and see how love is just more than a feeling or a verb, but how Love has taken on flesh to dwell among us, to live like us, and to even die like us, so that we may one day live like Him for all eternity.

        My brothers and sisters, in a few moments we will have the opportunity to once again witness the Paradox and Mystery of the Cross happen right before our eyes as bread and wine are transubstantiated into the Body and Blood of Christ.

        I invite you to look up.

        I invite you to look up and see the God who loves you, eye-to-eye.

        I invite you to look up and embrace our Savior.

        I invite you to look up and embrace the Cross.

        My friends, as I climbed the Hill of the Cross, the Lord taught me a lesson: No matter how close or far away from the Cross we may be, we must always look up! For only by looking up do we witness the Paradox and Mystery of the Cross in action. Only by looking up do we allow ourselves to surrender to the mercy of God. Only by looking up can we reach out and embrace the Cross, by which all of our joys and sorrows truly make sense.

        For the rest of this Mass, just look up!

        For the rest of your life, just look up!

        For Christ is looking down on you with love, and inviting you to the greatest journey of your life.

V:   We adore You, O Christ, and we praise You,

R: Because by Your Holy Cross, You have redeemed the world.

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Enjoy the journey . . .

Homily for the Mass of Anointing

Earlier today, we celebrate our parish's annual Mass for the Anointing of the Sick. The pastor asked me to preach for this Mass, and so the homily is below.

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Homily for the Mass of Anointing
13 September 2014

        Saint Paul must have sounded a bit on the crazy side when the Colossians first heard that he “[rejoiced] in [his] sufferings.”

        They probably thought he was nuts.

        And, in some ways, we might, as well.

        We gather here today to enter into the sufferings of Christ just the same way Saint Paul did two thousand years ago. And we, too, rejoice because, just like Saint Paul, our sufferings are filling up “what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ.”

        Yes, Christ Jesus “took away our infirmities and bore our diseases.” However, as we join our sufferings to that of the Mystery of the Cross, which we celebrate this weekend, we allow ourselves to rejoice, for we allow our sufferings to bear witness to the Gospel – and that truly can be a great joy.

        However, as we gather here today, we rejoice for our sufferings open us up to experience the depths of God’s healing presence through the reception of the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick.

        This sacramental encounter with our God gives us the grace, strength, peace and faith to turn over whatever may ail us to Him who holds us in His Compassionate Heart. For it is from His Passion and Death that we come to understand and appreciate the peace that only our God can give.

        Three quotes from our patron, Saint Teresa of Avila, come to mind today. The first is: We always find that those who walked closest to Christ were those who had to bear the greatest trials. We who gather here today have borne and continue to bear great trials. Because of this fact, the second quote of this great Doctor of the Church comes to mind: If this is the way You (Lord) treat Your friends, no wonder You have so few of them! Teresa probably takes the words right out of our mouths. For those of us who have journeyed so close and faithfully to and with the Lord, we are asked to bear the greatest of trials joyfully for the sake of the Cross and the spreading of the Gospel. Truly, if this is how God treats His friends, no wonder it is so few of us who choose to follow the Lord!

        But that brings us to the third quote: God alone suffices. This concluding statement of her bookmark prayer helps us call to mind the truth of why we’re here: God, alone, gives us all that we need to survive; the Lord, alone, provides for us the hope of glory that we pray one day to attain.

        Our celebration of the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick this day manifests our belief that “God alone suffices.” This encounter with Christ, then, enfleshes for us the power of the healing presence of the Holy Spirit. It is because we now fill up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ that we are able to become friends of Christ. It is because we are now friends of Christ that we are able to rejoice in our sufferings. And it is in this sacramental moment that we take to heart the words of Saint Teresa of Avila:

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.

 

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Enjoy the journey . . .

Fraternal Correction

Homily for the Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
7 September 2014

        When I was in the seminary, there was a phrase thrown around that we dreaded hearing: fraternal correction.

        We hated hearing it because it often brought up one of two things: Either that person was going to nit-pic about something that you were doing that was annoying them, or they would give you their opinion on how they did something would be better if you did it their way.

        And while our First Reading and Gospel quite poignantly remind us of the idea of fraternal correction, it is not something that is easy to do – especially in our society today.

        Fraternal correction is not just telling someone that they’re doing something wrong, making them feel bad, and walking away. No, that’s bullying, and we must NEVER do that – no matter how old we are.

        Rather, fraternal correction is just that: Correcting someone’s thoughts, speech or actions within the realm of our relationship with Jesus Christ. It’s a duty that is not just up to the priest to do in the confessional, but is an obligation for each and every Christian to perform. Pope-Emeritus Benedict XVI reminds us: “Correcting the behaviors of those gone astray is an essential part of [the] Christian life. . . . If a fraternal correction is rebuffed, then Christians should follow the advice of Jesus – seek the witness of others and, if necessary, the sanctification of the wider Church.”

        It’s important that we hold people accountable for their actions, just as it’s important for us to be held accountable for our own actions. It’s important that we understand that we must answer Cain’s eternal question that, yes, we are our brothers’ keeper.

        It’s essential that we recognize our Christian duty to inform our family and friends when they are living lives contrary to the Gospel. And we do so not because of our own moral superiority, but we perform fraternal correction because we know the struggles sin and temptation put before us, and the support we need of each other in order to make it in this life.

        Yet, again, it’s a very difficult thing to do, the fraternal correction. It’s difficult because our societal mentality is that of, “If I’m not hurting anyone by my actions, or someone else is not hurting another because of their actions, who am I to judge or say anything?”. In society’s opinion, whatever I do is for my own good. I’m looking out for me, for my good. If it’s good for me, and not harming anyone else, then whatever I’m doing / saying / thinking is okay.

        It’s because of this mentality that Jesus asks us to do the difficult thing. Yet, it’s because of this difficulty that Jesus calls us to rise up to the occasion. It’s because of this difficulty that Jesus encourages us.

        Remember: There is no such thing as a private sin. All of our thoughts, words, and actions have consequences. What may be fine for one person, “because it’s not hurting anybody”, can actually cause grave scandal to another person. And just because someone “is a good person” doesn’t give us or them a blank check to do whatever the heck they want!

        God didn’t create us to be good; He created us to be holy.

        Saint Dionysius once said, “The highest of all Divine works is to cooperate in the salvation of souls.” Fraternal correction is our cooperation in the salvation of souls, for it helps people understand that they’re not made just to be “good”, but they’re created to be “holy”!

        How, then, do we call people – especially our family and friends – to holiness? We encourage them not to cohabitate before marriage. We ask them to recognize the dignity of the human person from conception to natural death. We ask them to uphold the gift of human sexuality, and not to reduce it to the desires of temptation and lust that are wanton in our nature. We help them to recognize the Divine plan found in marriage, and the proper roles and duties of the family found therein. We ask them to come to Mass with us, to discover or rediscover a relationship with Jesus Christ. We assist others in seeing the consequences of their actions through the eyes and heart of faith. And, in some ways, we thrust before them the call not simply to be “good”, but the vocation to be “holy”.

        G.K. Chesterton is famously known for have saying, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult, and left untried.” And so, it’s due to the difficult vocation of the Christian that we shy away from true fraternal correction. It is because fraternal correction takes us out of our comfort zone that we would rather people wallow in the depths of sin rather than climb the mountain of God’s grace. Pope-Emeritus Benedict XVI once again reminds us, “The world promises you comfort, but you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness.”

        This greatness only comes to fruition when we strive for holiness – not just our own, but in the vocation of the salvation of souls, of being our brothers’ keeper. The reception of the Eucharist today should not only bring our lives more into conformity with Christ’s, but should give us the grace, strength, and courage to fulfill our vocation to call others to a life of holiness. The Eucharist isn’t just something that is good; He’s someone that’s holy, and our receiving of the Holy One should be the impetus that changes our lives and the lives of others.

        Fraternal correction is not an easy thing, but it’s a necessary thing. It’s not easy because anything worth-while in this life is never going to be easy. And yet, it’s necessary, because we want to be in heaven with those whom we love. And each of us, desiring Heaven, should never settle for being comfortable, for simply being “good”. Rather, we strive for greatness, we struggle to be holy. And because we love them, we practice fraternal correction, not simply because of the fear of the consequences of their sin, but for the hope of the consequences of being found great and holy in the eyes of God.

         

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Enjoy the journey . . .

Labor and Rest

Homily for Labor Day

1 September 2014

        Thank God for this day!

        It is a day of rest from our labors. It is a day to thank God that many of us have the opportunity to be employed or to be retired from employment. It is a day for some of us to continue to ask God to help us find employment. It is a day to reflect upon this noble gift and universal right that the Lord has bestowed upon us.

        And while it is a day of rest, it is still a day of labor. I’m not talking about preparing for the picnic we’ll have today, or cleaning up from the party we had yesterday. While we may physically rest, we never stop laboring for the Lord.

        Each day is an invitation from the Lord to labor and to rest. We see this quite profoundly in our First Reading from the Book of Genesis (1:26-2:3). Our Triune God, in the midst of creating everything from nothing, creates humanity, tells us what to do, then rests.

        Think about that for a second: God took a break. Our God rested from laboring. But even in that rest, He labored.

        In our Second Reading from Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Thessalonians (4:1b-2, 9-12), the great Apostle reminds us that we should work with our own hands, so that we may conduct ourselves properly in all things. In this way, we depend on ourselves for our own well-being, and, in this way, we allow the work that we do to become our contribution towards the building up of the Kingdom of God. In our charity, we labor.

        In our Gospel from Saint Matthew (6:31-34), Jesus reminds us to rest, to relax; that we should not worry about what we are to eat or what we are to drink or what we are to wear. Our worry brings us undue labor; our trusting in God brings us a labor beset in the mercy and love of Him who loved us first.

        And so, if we are at work, we labor. If we are at rest, we labor. No matter what we do – or try not to do – we labor. We labor constantly in our lives because we are alive. We labor ceaselessly because we cannot cease loving. We labor in restlessness, for our hearts are restless until they are able to rest in God alone.

        In thinking, reflecting and praying about our celebration and its readings today, two people kept coming to mind who never ceased in their labors, despite difficulties, and who provide for us today a unique witness to the call of Christian witness and evangelization.

        The first person is Sister Thea Bowman. As an African-American Franciscan religious, born in Mississippi in the 1930s, this great woman of faith overcame stereotypes of race, gender and religion simply because she knew how to labor and rest in the Lord. Diagnosed with cancer in the early- to mid-1980s, Sister Thea was able to, in her own words modified, “live until [she died],” passing from this life in 1990. One of her great quotes, borrowed from her culture, was, “Keep on keeping on.” How fitting to think of these words, and of this woman, as we reflect on the gift of labor. Sister Thea kept on through the midst of discrimination and illness, never ceasing to do the work of the Lord in her life. Even when her cancer began to overtake her physical life and she was forced to rest, she never stopped to “keep on keeping on” through the great spiritual labors that she worked on. Through her years as a Franciscan Sister of Perpetual Adoration, Sister Thea Bowman allowed herself to witness to the labors of Christian charity by working with her own hands to bring peoples together, so that may experience the boundlessness of God’s love. And though now resting in the arms of our God, we know that Sister Thea continues to labor for the Kingdom of God not only by the memory of her example, but through her intercessions for the Body of Christ, as well.

        The second person is someone whose name you should be more immediately aware of: James Foley. As a hostage, we know of the hell he suffered in captivity; we know of the savage way his life ended. And though it’s not our job right now to debate whether in the realm of theology he is to be considered a martyr, we know that his faith – specifically his Catholic faith – was something that helped him to rest when he could no longer labor. Yet, even in his captivity, as we have read in the biographical and autobiographical accounts that have surfaced recently, he invoked those ancient prayers of our faith – those prayers which helped him labor so that he and the others he was with could find some spiritual, emotional, and, yes, even physical rest. In an open letter published by Marquette University, James Foley concluded his thoughts by saying: If nothing else, prayer was the glue that enabled my freedom, an inner freedom first and later the miracle of being released during a war in which the regime had no real incentive to free us. It didn’t make sense, but faith did. His character during his captivity by the Libyans and his captivity and eventual execution by ISIS present us with an example, albeit extreme, of how the labor we participate in may not be of our choosing, yet our God walks with us to offer us rest.

        Yet the example of both Sister Thea Bowman and James Foley offer to us an understanding of what Jesus presents to us in the Gospel: the labors which we undertake in this life are not to satisfy the needs of this world; rather, they are to prepare us for the rest in the next. Our labors – be they physical, spiritual, psychological, or emotional – work so that we can be assured that our God provides for all of our needs. Yes, we need the physical labors to assure that we can provide for ourselves and our families; yes, we need the spiritual labors to assure that we are always in right relationship with God; yes, we need the psychological labors so that we may continue to integrate the gifts of faith and reason to truly understand the workings and will of God; and, yes, we need the emotional labors so that, through the ecstasy of joy and the agony of suffering, we may know the height and depth and breadth of the love of our God.

        Our God calls us to labor and to rest, just as He, Himself, did; just as He, Himself, does. We labor in this life so that we may rest in the next. We rest in this life to prepare us for the great labors of the next. Yet we labor because we are alive, because we cannot cease loving, for our hearts are restless until they are able to rest in God alone.

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Enjoy the journey . . .