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 . . .

To Life!

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Lent – Laetare Sunday
Sunday, 10 March 2013

        My brothers and sisters, the parable of the Prodigal Son is one of the most beloved in the Gospels. However, in the context that it is given to us on this particular weekend – this weekend in which Mother Church asks us to “rejoice!” -, we must look deeper into the parable and the pericopes from Scripture that have been given to us.

        Why do we rejoice this day, in this season which, in a lot of ways, is so somber, so pensive? The answer is given in our Second Reading, when Saint Paul reminds the Corinthians that “whoever is in Christ is a new creation.” It is that reality that we see played out in our First Reading when Joshua and the Israelites celebrate the Passover in Jericho. This reality is given to us in the celebration of the father when his prodigal son returns home. The celebration being played out in our Scripture, and that is also being played out right here, right now, is the very celebration and rejoicing in the life of God given to us.

        One of the best modern examples given to us is found in the musical and movie, Fiddler on the Roof. The great song “L’chaim” (“To Life”) is a celebration of the life of God given to his people, even in the midst of hardship – a fact we call to mind in our celebration of the Sacrifice of the Mass. Tevye has a great line in the song: “God would like us to be joyful even when our hearts lie panting on the floor.” And that’s what we’re celebrating in this particular week of Lent.

        The Passover that Joshua and the ancient Israelites were celebrating is a feast recalling the fact that God led them through the midst of misery and slavery to the joys of freedom. The celebration the father gave for his son who “was dead, and has come to life again” points to the fact that God, our Father, rejoices when we, His children, come home again to know and live in His gift of everlasting life. That’s a reality of why and what we celebrate each time we gather for Mass: We gather as a broken people, as arrogant children against our Father, as sojourners in a land that is not our own, rejoicing in the very fact that our God promises to be – and is! – with us in the very muck of our lives, and promises to welcome us home when “our hearts lie panting on the floor” and we need His forgiveness, the fullness of His love.

        L’chaim! To life! We are a new creation in Christ! We have been called once again to “taste and see the goodness of the Lord”. The Lord continues to celebrate when we are reconciled to Him, and we rejoice on account of His boundless mercy. And while Tevye and his companions raised their glasses “to life” in the midst of their story, in a few moment we will raise the chalice of life, sharing in the very Blood that unites our sufferings and secures our freedom as prodigal sons and daughters of God.

        Mother Church presents to us these readings on this Laetare Sunday because she needs us to remember the “why” of our suffering – separation from God on account of our sin – and the remembrance that God calls us to experience His mercy through our reconciliation. The prodigal son could in no way experience the father’s mercy if he hadn’t returned in embarrassed disgrace. The Israelites couldn’t have known of God’s faithfulness if they didn’t continue to turn away from Him. This IS NOT to say that we need to be going out every day and sinning our eyes out. This IS to say that, to know of God’s mercy and faithfulness ourselves, we need to celebrate His promises to us in the celebration of the Sacraments of the Eucharist and Reconciliation. We need to celebrate the life to which God calls us to – a life that will never be fully recognized if we don’t avail ourselves of His mercy.

        Lent is that time in which we come to recognize our hearts lying panting on the floor. Yet this Sunday, which the Church calls us to rejoice for the hastening of the great memorial of the central acts of our salvation, calls us to celebrate the great call to life through our participation in the Word and Sacraments.

        L’chaim! To life! As we raise the chalice of life and salvation this day, let us recall that all of our sufferings and pains eventually do lead to the joy of the eternal life of God - A life that we are all free to share in, only, though, when we avail ourselves in the great love and mercy of our God through our reconciliation with Him and with His Body, the Church.

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If the song is now stuck in your head, good. Go here and sing along.

Enjoy the journey . . .

Mercy and Repentance

Homily for the Third Sunday of Lent
Sunday, 3 March 2013

       I often feel bad for the collects of the Mass. (Those are the prayers which “collect” our prayers together under one prayer.) Usually, everyone is just waiting to get through them, to say “Amen”, and to go on to the next portion of the Mass. The two “big” collect prayers are at the beginning of the Mass – our “Opening Prayer” – and the Prayer after Communion . . . you know, the one nobody hears because they leave before the Mass is over.

       Did you hear what today’s opening collect was asking of the Lord? Let’s take a listen to it again:

              O God, author of every mercy and of all goodness,
              who in fasting, prayer and almsgiving
              have shown us a remedy for sin,
              look graciously on this confession of our lowliness,
              that we, who are bowed down by our conscience,
              may always be lifted up by your mercy.

       My brothers and sisters, our readings today talk to us about God’s mercy and our repentance, and how our repentance helps us bear fruit for the Kingdom of God.

       We all know we’re sinners, and that’s why we have the Penitential Act at the beginning of Mass – to, as our collect today reminds us – “confess our lowliness”. This act of humility on our part helps us to recognize that we can’t live this life on our own . . . that we need God’s mercy. And the way that we are “lifted up by [God’s] mercy” is to always be repentant.

       But that “repentance” – that turning back to God – can only be done when we understand what it is that we have done. It is “with knowledge” that we turn to the Lord. That’s what “conscience” means, after all: “with knowledge”. We can’t bear fruit for the Kingdom of God if we’re not truly disposing ourselves to His mercy.

       Repentance is more than saying, “I’m sorry”. It’s more than seeking the mercy of God time and time again without trying to reform our lives. And we cannot simply presume the mercy of God – that’s a sin within itself. If we are supposed to be witnesses to our Faith and the mercy of God, what does it say when we are habitually late for Mass or when we leave right after receiving the Eucharist? How is that showing God that we want to live in a right and good relationship with Him? How is that presenting a great model of faith for our children and our neighbors? We simply tell God that we can fit Him in to our schedules when it’s convenient for us. We don’t want to take the time for the mercy of God to transform us because we’re too afraid to look at our lowliness through our conscience, because, with that knowledge, we would see how lowly we REALLY are!

       Yet, the act of repentance – especially through our complete celebration of the Eucharist and the Sacrament of Reconciliation – allow us to be cultivated like the fig tree, and we bear the true fruit which tastes so sweet to others that they will want to come to know the Lord. But that’s not going to happen if we don’t look at our lives seriously, through the knowledge and insight we receive through the Holy Spirit – by taking that time in prayer. Our fruit will only be as good as the time we spend in soaking up the spiritual nutrients God is giving to us. And in these days of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, we are, hopefully, coming to that deeper knowledge of not only who we are and how lowly we may be, but that we may also come to know the full depth and width and breadth and height of the mercy of our God.

       This, my brothers and sisters, is the holy ground Moses once stood on. The ambo and the altar become the burning bush by which God comes to call us by name and send us out to gather His people again. And this God of mercy, this God who saves continues to call us back to Himself so that we may know Him better.

       This repentance is something that was called for on Ash Wednesday when we were told to, “Repent, and believe in the Gospel.” Have we truly repented? Do we fully believe in the Gospel? Do we come before the great “I AM” now with full knowledge of our lowliness? Do we come to God truly asking for His mercy, or are we presuming it? Are we truly willing and waiting to be cultivated by God so that we may bear good fruit which will allow others to want to come to know Who Jesus REALLY is?

       Or do we tell God where we can fit Him in to our busy schedules?

       My friends, this is the moment to recognize our lowliness before God. It is now that we come before Him with full knowledge of who we are. It is here that we experience God’s mercy. For it is in the here and now that we do return to God with all our heart, and seek His tender faithfulness. Now is the moment when our God cultivates us to bear good fruit in the world.

       I believe a good summation was given to us by our most recent Holy Father, Pope-emeritus Benedict XVI, when he said:

The purpose of our lives is to reveal God to men . . . Only when we meet the living God in Christ do we know what life is. We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary. There is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ. There is nothing more beautiful than to know Him and to speak to others of our friendship with Him . . . it is beautiful and wonderful, because it is truly a service to joy, to God’s joy which longs to break into the world.

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Enjoy the journey . . . 

One Last Thought

Thanks be to God, I'm going on vacation tomorrow. Nothing too big planned - just visiting with some friends here and there. It'll be a good time.

That being said, I know that I'll miss the opportunity to give some final parting thoughts about the Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, before he leaves the Papal Office on Thursday, so I just wanted to post something now.

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I remember that April day in 2005, when the announcement of Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger being elected as the 265th Bishop of Rome. It was my first year in seminary, and was just arriving at Duquesne University for my afternoon class. (I was coming from a funeral for a priest who had an influence on my vocation.)

Standing in the student union, I, along with another then-seminarian (now-priest) and students and faculty of Duquesne, watched as the announcement was made. I remember when "Joseph" was announced as the first name of the man becoming Pope, the other seminarian and I looked at each other and said "Ratzinger" to each other. For me, it was a moment of pride. Not only had the Holy Spirit worked (once again), but He gave us the "German Shepherd". (And since I'm half-German, it was a great "tip of the hat" to my heritage.)

The first time that I saw Pope Benedict "in person". It was 2005 in Cologne, Germany, for World Youth Day. I, along with some seminarian brothers, had the opportunity to go to the gathering he had with seminarians. It was a rainy day, but, thankfully, I and my companions were in the church building. As the Holy Father came through to greet all the men discerning and aspiring to the priesthood, I was rushed over by a number of people trying to get close. But I was able to get close - no more than about twenty feet. And though it was extremely brief, it was a wonderful experience nonetheless.

One of the last times that I had the opportunity to see Pope Benedict XVI "in the flesh" was the last time I was in Rome - October, 2009. I was there for the diaconate ordination of my diocesan classmate, and was walking through Saint Peter's Square, returning to my hotel. There was some movement, and - again, very quickly - the Pope was passing by. He was not in the Popemobile, but in a limo - and I only saw his hand waving to us along the way. True, I didn't get to hear him speak, but it was a wonderful experience. Just to know that the Holy Father was there, even going to meetings with officials of Rome, gave a great satisfaction that things were being taken care of. It was a unusual encounter that I know I won't forget.

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People will continue to argue if what the Pope is doing is beneficial for the Church, or if his "stepping down" from office and ministry will do her more harm. I'm not going to judge that right here or now. That's ultimately for time to tell.

I believe that the Holy Father has prayed about his decision, and feels that he is doing what is best for the Church Universal. I'm going with the flow - not really worrying about who will become the next pope. It's the fact that it's happening - history (once again!) in the making. I just pray that the cardinals really listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit.

Other than that, we'll just take it day-by-day.




I hope to be in a church on Thursday, 28 February at 2:00 PM (8:00 PM Rome) when the Church begins the interregnum. I hope to hear church bells ring out the fact that we are "shepherdless" at that moment. I hope that all Catholics at that moment say a prayer to the Holy Spirit to guide Pope Benedict, the cardinals, and the man who will be Pope #266.




It will be interesting to not mention the Pope's name in the Eucharistic Prayer.

It will be harder to remember to say the new guy's name after his election.


We'll get through it. We just need to trust in the Holy Spirit.






Enjoy the journey . . .

It Is Good that We Are Here

Homily for the Second Sunday of Lent
Sunday, 24 February 2013

        “It is good that we are here.”

       My brothers and sisters, a truer statement has honestly never been made.

       We gather together on this Second Sunday of Lent to – once again – enter into a covenant with the Lord, just as Abraham did in our First Reading from Genesis. We also travel up the mountain with Jesus, like Peter, James and John did . . . and we witness – once again – the transfiguration of our reality from something as finite to that which is infinite.

       “It is good that we are here.”

       And we HAVE to be here; we NEED to be here. It is here that we once again learn, as Saint Paul reminds us, how to be imitators of him who is an imitator of Christ. The Apostle reminds us of the fact that those who worship themselves will always rally AGAINST the Cross, while we, who try day-in and day-out to imitate Christ, rally AROUND the Cross.

       THAT is reality of the Transfiguration of Christ. THAT must also become our reality.

       The glory of the event of the Transfiguration shows not only Peter, James and John a foretaste of the Resurrection, but also shows to us a glimpse of the infinite reality promised to humanity – as long as we imitate Christ and rally around the Cross. This is way it is, for the glory of the Transfiguration only makes sense in glory of the Cross. Jesus knew this. Moses and Elijah knew this. Peter, James and John eventually came to understand it. It is now up to us to live it.

       I was woken up at 1:00 this morning / yesterday morning to go to Passavant Hospital. A man was dying, and needed the “Last Rites”. When I got to the room, the gentleman was someone I came to know during my diaconate assignment. It was hard to see him there, but his daughter and son told me about his health problems over the last month, and that he was ready to pass from this life to the next. This man was a “gentle giant”, so full of faith in God and love for his family, a true witness to Christ. A man who I was happy to see at my ordination to the priesthood, and a man I was honored to pray with and for in these last moments of his life here on Earth.

       Yes, “it is good that we are here.”

       While we would most likely love to stay on top of the mountain with Jesus, He reminds us that we must venture through the valley. The destination is Jerusalem; the destination is Golgotha – the Place of the Skull. The destination is the Cross. Yet, even rallying around the Cross, “it is good that we are here.”

       Jerusalem is the ultimate destiny for the one who follows Jesus Christ. To think otherwise is to rally against the Cross. If we are to become imitators of Christ, if we are to stand firm in the Lord, if we are to inherit the infinite reality of the Transfiguration, then we need to “fix our eyes on [those] hills” and “set our hearts for the way”. The journey to Jerusalem is, indeed, our destiny. Again, the glory of the Transfiguration only makes sense in the light of the glory of the Cross.

       The man that I visited in the hospital this morning / yesterday morning was travelling from Jerusalem to, God willing, I pray, the glory found in the Transfiguration. And it was good for him to be there – in that valley, between the mountains, for it is in the struggle that we come to understand the depths of the love of God for us. We recognize that we do not walk alone, for this journey is not a journey simply for Catholics or simply for Christians: It is the journey of humanity. Our journey to Jerusalem, to the Cross not only helps us understand God’s love for us in our finite world, but the desire He has for us to join Him in the infinite life of eternal transfiguration. It is good for us to be able to see in the here and now the “truth which bids [us] rise” from the confined life of temptation and sin to the ever-expanding freedom that comes from rallying around the Cross.

       My brothers and sisters, it is good for us to be here. Not just in this church; not just in 2013; not just existing on Earth. Rather, it is good for us to be on Mount Tabor at the Transfiguration. It is good for us to be in the valley, travelling with Jesus and learning from Him on the way to Jerusalem. It is good for us to be at Golgotha, witnessing those pinnacle acts of our salvation.

       “It is good that we are here.” For it here we witness, once again, Christ’s arms outstretched between heaven and earth as the lasting sign of the covenant with the Father. A covenant which transfigures us along the journey with Christ – and each other – to Jerusalem.

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Enjoy the journey . . .