Faces of Faith

Seeing the Face of God first in the faces of others

07/27/2017

EX 19:1-2, 9-11, 16-20B In the third month after their departure from the land of Egypt, on its first day, the children of Israel came to the desert of Sinai. After the journey from Rephidim to the desert of Sinai, they pitched camp. While Israel was encamped here in front of the mountain, the LORD told Moses, "I am coming to you in a dense cloud, so that when the people hear me speaking with you, they may always have faith in you also." When Moses, then, had reported to the LORD the response of the people, the LORD added, "Go to the people and have them sanctify themselves today and tomorrow. Make them wash their garments and be ready for the third day; for on the third day the LORD will come down on Mount Sinai before the eyes of all the people."

           Would you like to see God? Of course, we all would love to gaze into the God’s eternal eyes, and, please God, one day we will in heaven. But here on earth, we first find God’s divine Face in the human faces around us. We know that no one can believe in God unless He gives them the gift of faith: that special eyesight to see spiritual things. But that gift of faith is delivered through the faces of faith we see around us. Try to think of some of the faces of faith that have helped you to see God a little better.

            The very first face of faith is found in our parents, especially our mother. I don’t mean just because mom always drags you to church on Sunday. Doctors say a baby’s eyesight extends about 12 inches, the precise distance between a baby’s face nursing at the breast and her mom’s face. The very first glimpse we get of God is when we stare into our mom’s eyes.  How so?  Well, however inchoately, we sense in the unconditional love of her eyes, the love of God. Here at Immaculate Conception not one week goes by that I don’t hear a story of how someone became Catholic thanks to Msgr. John O’Donnell, or “OD” as some affectionately call him because people “overdosed” on Jesus while he was here. In Msgr. O’Donnell’s face, people caught a glimpse of the Face of God: in his joy, his eloquence, his tenderness, even in his Irish wit they saw God’s goodness. The first time we see the face of God is when we see him reflected in the face of man, in faces beaming with faith.

            The Scriptures today tell us this is in keeping with the divine design, that is, God wants it this way. In Exodus 19, Moses meets God on Mt. Sinai, but God says surprisingly, “I am coming to you [Moses] in a dense cloud, so that when the people hear me speaking with you, they may always have faith in your also.” Did you catch that last part? God wanted the people to have faith in Moses, too, so that when they saw Moses’ face they would remember God’s presence and power. Moses had a face of faith that helped the people to see God. In the gospel, Jesus explains why he speaks in parables, saying, “Because knowledge of the mysteries of the Kingdom of heaven has been granted to you, but to them it has not been granted.” The apostles were to be the faces of faith to the early Christian community (because they knew the mysteries of the Kingdom), just like Msgr. John O’Donnell was a face of faith to the Fort Smith community. The first place we see the divine Face is in a human face.

Folks, what kind of face do you show the world? Remember this world is desperate to see God: from our first breath coming out of the womb until our last breath before we’re place in the tomb, our hearts beat with a more or less conscious desire to see God. And the first place someone sees God’s Face is in a human face, maybe your face. Do you have a face of faith?

           Let me conclude with a longish quotation from Bishop Robert Barron, whose self-professed goal is to show God’s face to our culture. Bishop Barron writes: “In 1933, on the nineteen-hundredth anniversary of the redemption, Pope Pius XI invited Christian missionaries to take the Gospel literally to the ends of the world, to ensure that the message was heard everywhere. The Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate took up the challenge. A small group was sent to the northern reaches of Canada, where they proclaimed Jesus Christ risen from the dead. Then they asked, ‘Are there any people further north?’ When the answer came back in the affirmative, they set out, found the more distant community, and proclaimed Jesus to them. This process continued until they came, finally, to a tiny gathering of people who said, ‘No, we’re the last ones.’ When the Oblates had preached to this little band, they went back to Rome with the message: ‘We’ve announced Jesus Christ to the ends of the world’” (Catholicism, 142). They showed God’s face to everyone. My friends, whether it’s in Canada or in Cammack Village, the first place people see the Divine Face is in a human face.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Patience Now

Slowly growing in the virtue of patience

07/26/2017

Matthew 13:24-30 Jesus proposed another parable to the crowds, saying: "The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed in his field.  While everyone was asleep his enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat, and then went off. When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well. The slaves of the householder came to him and said, 'Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from?' He answered, 'An enemy has done this.' His slaves said to him, 'Do you want us to go and pull them up?' He replied, 'No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest; then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters, "First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barn."'"

           Would you describe yourself as a very patient person? I think this virtue is especially elusive for modern Americans, who are accustomed to having things right away, the sooner the better. We drive fast on the freeway, and we’re perturbed with people who poke along in the passing lane. I hate to tell you this, but several times I’ve actually passed a slow poke who was in the left lane, passed them in the right lane, gotten in front of them, and slowed down until they finally moved into the right hand lane. Yes, I need to go to confession for that. We want faster wifi connections and go into withdrawals and start shaking if we can’t download something fast. We have little tolerance for Sunday Mass that’s more than one hour, and we start staring at our watches (or phones).  Like Moses said to Pharaoh, we want to say to the priest: “Let my people go!” We’re like the Christian who prayed for patience saying, “Lord, give me patience, and I want it right now!” We say like Tom Cruise in the movie, “Top Gun,” “I feel the need…the need for speed.” We Americans can’t slow down or be patient.

          But some things in life – indeed the best things – cannot be rushed; we must wait patiently for them. For example, falling in love cannot happen “at first sight,” and usually when it does, it doesn’t last long. “Speed dating” leads quickly to “speed divorcing.” Friendships fostered over years are the richest and most rewarding. A good meal usually isn’t prepared in five minutes in a microwave, but prepared over hours of time, because they include “three scoops of love” which takes time. Farmers know they must be patient waiting for the spring planting to turn into the fall harvest. Yes, you can inject steroids to make your chickens grow faster and fatter, but you’ll also lose something in the balance. Patience is a virtue modern Americans could use a lot more of, and they need that patience now!

           In the gospel today, Jesus tells his disciples that waiting patiently is necessary in the Christian life, too – it is indispensable for growth in goodness; patience even makes us more like God. Jesus tells the parable of the sower who scattered seeds, but weeds grow together with the wheat. The farmer allows both to grow together until harvest, and then he will dispense with weeds and wheat as befit both. But what struck me about the parable was the farmer’s patience and willingness to wait. God is the divine farmer, who knows that his grace works slowly in the life of each Christian: not like a steroid but like a seed. In fact, sometimes growth in the virtues is as imperceptible as seeing the grass grow. Sometimes we only see the growth in the rearview mirror – after years of living the Christian life. We’re more patient today than we were five years ago. We’re more prayerful today than we were ten years ago. We’re more punctual today than we were twenty years ago. Can you see what happening? Some of the weeds in us are miraculously transforming into wheat, and that’s why the Farmer lets both grow. 

We read in 2 Peter 3:9 says, “The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard ‘delay,’ but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.” You will recall that St. Peter also had some weeds that needed to turn into wheat - his impetuosity, his denials - and he was personally grateful for God’s patience.  God’s patience gives us hope, and our patience gives God hope.

          My friends, how do we grow in the virtue of patience? Well, because it’s a virtue, it is gained by practice. Every coach will tell you that “practice makes perfect.” And that’s true with patience as well: the more we practice it, the more perfect it becomes in us. Here are several ways to practice patience. First, pray for the grace to be patient. But remember God may delay in answering your prayers, and thereby teach you to be patient, waiting on his answer.  Garth Brooks told us that “some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.” Second, try to be more patient with yourself – in overcoming stubborn sins, in learning a new language, in starting a new job, in using a smart phone, etc. – then we’ll be more patient and understanding with other people’s struggles, like those who drive slowly in the left hand lane. They’re slow like we are. Third, do you know how long you should wash your hands with soap? A friend told me you should sing the “Happy Birthday” song twice while rubbing soap on your hands, only then will the soap do any good in cleaning your hand. Some things in life are only attained slowly, like cleanliness; that’s one reason they say “cleanliness is next to Godliness” because both require the virtue of patience. Fourth, reflect on God’s patience toward you, and thank him. How long as God waited patiently for you to learn spiritual principles and put them into practice? God is patient with us like he was with St. Peter.

            The best things in life are not obtained by rushing and recklessness, but rather by patience and perseverance. Heck, even God must wait patiently for us to come to repentance. Friar Laurence gave Romeo and Juliet the same advice in Shakespeare’s romantic tragedy, saying, “Wisely and slowly; they stumble that run fast” (Romeo and Juliet, II, 3). If they had heeded his words, this play would have been a romance, and not a tragedy.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Fear of Tears

Letting our tears teach us lessons of love

07/22/2017

John 20:1-2, 11-18 Mary stayed outside the tomb weeping. And as she wept, she bent over into the tomb and saw two angels in white sitting there, one at the head and one at the feet where the Body of Jesus had been. And they said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken my Lord, and I don't know where they laid him." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus there, but did not know it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" She thought it was the gardener and said to him, "Sir, if you carried him away, tell me where you laid him, and I will take him." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni," which means Teacher. Jesus said to her, "Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and tell them, 'I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord," and then reported what he told her.

           Many years ago while I was still in seminary, I experienced one of the most grueling but also one of the most grace-filled moments of my life. I participated in a “Clinical Pastoral Experience” program (CPE, for short) and worked as a hospital chaplain. The hardest part of that program was group sessions, where we all sat in a circle and shared our feelings. I hated that part. Most of the time I tried to sit inconspicuously and slide my hand into my pants pocket and pray my rosary. But sooner or later everyone’s attention turns toward you, and you have to share your feelings; you become a sort of “emotional monkey in the middle.”

          I still shudder at how relentlessly they plied me with questions, asking why I said this, or why I felt that, or why I didn’t do something else, on and on they asked and wouldn’t stop. It felt like emotional waterboarding, torturing my heart. They kept probing deeper and deeper, peeling back layer after layer of my motivations and masks until I finally blurted out, “Because I love the Church!” and I burst into tears. It’s hard to convey how I felt at that moment, almost as if I stood there naked before that group of strangers, or at least my heart was naked, and I wept. But I learned that the tears were a sign of my deepest love. It wasn’t until I wept that I had touched the tap-root of my heart’s deepest desire. You see, they didn’t perform that emotional waterboarding so they could learn something, but so that I could learn something. I learned what I truly loved, because that’s what I would weep for. I also learned to overcome my fear of tears. I am convinced that summer CPE not only made me a better person, it would make me a better priest.

           In the gospel today, we see another sort of group therapy session, and Mary Magdalene is the fortunate monkey in the middle. First she is questioned by two angels, who probingly ask her: “Woman, why are you weeping?” Then Jesus appears and asks again, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you weeping for?” Little by little they help Mary to peel back the layers of her loves until she discovers her heart’s deepest desire: Jesus. She recognized Jesus, not as the gardener, but as her Lord and her Love. Of course, May was a lot faster in following the trail of her tears than I was. Tears flow when you touch your deepest feelings. After Mary embraced Jesus, her heart’s desire, she left the tomb calm and confident to share her Good News with the world. Having overcome her fear of tears, she became a better person, and even a better priest; after all, she’s called the “Apostle to the Apostles.”

           My friends, do you still suffer from a fear of tears? Do you feel awkward or embarrassed when someone cries, or even when you cry? Maybe you’ve witnessed weeping at a funeral, or while consoling someone who’s dealing with a divorce, or as you hold the hand of someone in the hospital. Or maybe you cried watching a sappy movie, or got choked up telling someone you love them. Instead of a fear of tears, may I suggest you learn to welcome them?  Tears are a sign of your heart’s deepest desires. I assure people who cry during counseling sessions with me that I consider that a compliment. Why? Well, weeping makes you feel vulnerable and that means you trust me enough to show me your heart. I remember very well that day many years ago when I felt vulnerable - indeed naked - crying in CPE. In other words, don’t fear your tears, but welcome them as harbingers of your heart’s love.

           Here’s the upshot: when you overcome your fear of tears, you will become not only a better person, but also a better priest. How so? You will be ready to share with the world the Good News of what you love the most.  And like Mary Magdalene, hopefully that will be Jesus.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

The Ultimate Vacation

Finding real rest and profound peace in Jesus alone

07/20/2017

Matthew 11:28-30 Jesus said: "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."

         Summertime is the season for vacations. Have you taken your vacation yet? Some people go to the beach and sit in the sun and read or work on their tans. Everyone wants to look like Fr. John. Other people spend their time at amusement parks, or enjoying the great outdoors at national parks, or watching old episodes of the T.V. show called “Parks and Recreation.” Still others take the so-called “stay-cation,” where they stay home and let their neighbors go away on vacations, because that’s who they really need a vacation from. So often, however, what happens when you return from your vacation? You feel you need a vacation from your vacation! Too often vacations only produce greater exhaustion rather than producing a profound peace.

           One friend of mine likes to say that the best part of her vacation is coming home to sleep in her own bed. Ironically, she finally rests when she returns from her vacation. Vacations are like that story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, where Goldilocks first sleeps in a bed that’s too hard, and then in a bed that was too soft, and finally she finds a bed that’s just right, and she discovers real rest. We, too, approach vacations like beds: hoping going here or running there will help us find real rest. But at the end of the journey, we need a vacation from our vacation; we still looking for the best bed, the ultimate vacation.

         In the gospel today, Jesus tells his disciples where to find real rest, profound peace, the ultimate vacation, namely, in him. Jesus says simply: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves.” That Scripture is evocative of St. Augustine’s famous, opening passage in his Confessions, where the Doctor of Grace wrote: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find rest in thee” (Confessions, I, 1). St. Augustine wrote that after a life of painful personal experience of looking in vain for real rest in all the wrong corners of the world, and in all the wrong corners of his heart. He was like Goldilocks, trying one bed that’s too hard, and another that’s too soft, until he found the best bed, namely Jesus himself.

         My friends, where are you looking for rest, relaxation and renewal? Of course, it’s fine to take a vacation to see the world, or get away from the daily routine. But be careful thinking a vacation can promise perfect peace, and real rest. Your body may be on vacation, but your soul (your heart) may still be restless. We may be tempted to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, in alcohol. Archbishop Fulton Sheen once said, “Men drink because they like the stuff; women drink because they don’t like something else.” In other words, they’re trying to escape from something, or someone! But we wake up the next more with a hangover and we feel we need a vacation from our vacation to Margarita-Ville.  Opioid addiction has reached pandemic proportions in the United States. Why? People sadly think they will find real rest in drugs. Teenage suicide is also growing inexorably and exponentially. Young people party on Spring Break in Cancun, but they do not find the real rest they desire with all their hearts. They still desperately need a vacation from their vacation.

          Our whole life plays out like the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, a poor exhausted little girl, looking for rest.  We try one bed that’s too hard, and another that’s too soft, until we finally find Jesus, the One who is just right, the only One who gives us real rest, perfect peace, the ultimate vacation. Only when we rest in the Lord will we finally feel we no longer need a vacation from a vacation.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Feed the Seed

Nourishing the seed of faith planted within us

07/16/2017

Matthew 13:1-9 On that day, Jesus went out of the house and sat down by the sea. Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat down, and the whole crowd stood along the shore.  And he spoke to them at length in parables, saying: "A sower went out to sow.  And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep, and when the sun rose it was scorched, and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it. But some seed fell on rich soil and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.  Whoever has ears ought to hear."

         “Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row.” You’ve probably heard that nursery rhyme before. But have you heard an interpretation for it? There are actually several possible meanings of the rhyme, but my favorite is the Catholic one. Duh. The subject of the rhyme is a woman named “Mary,” someone who is “quite contrary,” and that refers to the Blessed Virgin Mary. That means that Mary is “contrary” to the common, acceptable modes of behavior, she’s not in step with her peers – she’s counter-cultural because she’s both a fruitful virgin and yet also a chaste mother. She’s very contrary, paradoxical.

What then is her garden? There are two meanings hidden here. One is the garden of the whole Church – because she is the mother of the Church, and she tends all her children like flowers in her garden. But Mary’s garden is also the individual souls of each Christian, where she cultivates the virtues to grow, like chastity, honesty, cheerfulness and hardwork. Mary makes both the universal Church as well as the individual souls of Christians grow in holiness.

          The silver bells are church bells, especially the bells we hear rung at Mass. When I ring the those bells before Mass starts, what happens? Everyone jumps up: that’s how Mary makes the garden sprout, people jump up. The cockle shells are a little more arcane, a less familiar symbol. A shell is awarded to a person who’s completed a pilgrimage, especially the grueling 550-mile pilgrimage across northern Spain to Santiago de Compostella. Therefore cockle shells represent piety and prayer and pilgrimage. Nothing helps you grow in goodness and grace like serious and sustained prayer.

And finally, what do “pretty maids all in a row” refer to ? Well, it’s not the chorus line on Broadway! It’s actually a chorus of nuns in chapel at “Lauds” and “Vespers,” chanting their morning and evening prayers. I think it’s a real tragedy that St. Anne Convent is not filled with Sisters of Mercy, and St. Scholastica Monastery is not overflowing with Benedictine nuns. What a big blessing they would be in our Catholic schools, rapping kids knuckles with rulers! Cloistered and consecrated nuns make us grow in virtue because of their words of exhortation and their works of mercy.

          The point of this popular rhyme is simple but also serious: if you want a garden to grow, they need careful and constant cultivation. If you leave them alone, weeds and wild things will take over. If you’re growing a spiritual garden, you need to provide supernatural fertilizer – the sacraments, sacrifice, and sound spirituality – that’s how you feed the seed of faith.

          In the gospel today, Jesus is also concerned about making seeds grow, an analogy for the spiritual maturation of Christians. He tells the parable of the sower who spreads seeds on different soils, some soil gives growth while others choke off the plants because the ground is not carefully cultivated. Jesus wants to warn his disciples about the danger of not being fertile soil. Why? Faith only flourishes in good ground. In other words, it takes effort to make your faith grow, while it is easy to lose your faith: simply do nothing, simply by neglect.

           Do you know anyone who used to be Catholic but now no longer goes to church, to Mass? I bet you do, and maybe it’s someone in your own family. Scott Hahn, the Presbyterian minister-turned Catholic-theologian, frequently says that the largest Christian denomination in the United States is “Roman Catholic.” But he adds that the second largest is “ex-Catholics.” These fallen away Catholics called “the nones” because their religion is “none in particular.” In August, 2016, the Pew Research Center said: “Perhaps the most striking trend in American religion in recent years has been the growing percentage of adults who do not identify with a religious group. And the vast majority of these religious “nones” (78%) say they were raised as a member of a particular religion before shedding their religious identity in adulthood.” Why is this a growing trend?  The answer is simple. The seeds of faith fells on shallow soil, and it withered and died, because people did not “feed the seed.” Those who were Catholic did not remember the nursery rhyme, “Mary, Mary, quite contrary,” they did not seek Mary’s prayers, or hear the “silver bells” of Mass, or pursue the “cockle shells” of pilgrim piety, or the sacrifices of sisters, “the pretty maids all in a row.” It takes a lot of effort to stay in the Church, it merely takes neglect to leave the Church, because you fail to feed the seed.

          My friends, how do you feed the seed of your faith, how do you cultivate good ground? It’s not enough to just come to Mass once a week; that would be like watering your flowers or vegetables once a week. Let me suggest two ways. First, what kind of company do you keep? Who are your companions and confidants? I love to text people all the time, especially on Friday nights when they’re probably at a party. I’ll text someone and their friend will ask, “Hey, who texted you?” And the Catholic will reply cover their mouth and mumble: “Um, my priest.” But you see what happens: when you’re friends with a priest: that says something about you. It says you probably don’t have much of a social life. But it also says you “feed the seed of your faith.” Who are your friends, do they cultivate your faith or cause you to forget it?

          The second suggestion is to consider what you are reading these days. What books are feeding your head and your heart? Of course, it’s fine to enjoy fantasies and fiction, histories and mysteries. But also make time for some serious spiritual reading. The Bible first and foremost. Currently, I’m reading several books: The Dynamics of World History by Christopher Dawson (a great book on the role of religion in history), The Lord by Romano Guardini (who helps you see Jesus in a whole new way), The Drama of Atheistic Humanism by Henri de Lubac (answering the question why people are atheists today), and in my car, listening to audio books, “Building a Biblical Worldview” by Scott Hahn and “Hamlet” by Shakespeare. Even a priest must feed the seed of faith, or he will starve his soul.

          Folks, the most precious gift you have been given is the seed of faith. But faith will not flower or flourish on its own; you must feed the seed. Mary’s garden grows because she uses supernatural fertilizer, and that’s how your garden will grow, too. Or it will not.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Games People Play

Seeing God as the Grand Master Chess Player

07/12/2017

Genesis 41:55-57 When hunger came to be felt throughout the land of Egypt and the people cried to Pharaoh for bread, Pharaoh directed all the Egyptians to go to Joseph and do whatever he told them. When the famine had spread throughout the land, Joseph opened all the cities that had grain and rationed it to the Egyptians, since the famine had gripped the land of Egypt. In fact, all the world came to Joseph to obtain rations of grain, for famine had gripped the whole world. The sons of Israel were among those who came to procure rations. It was Joseph, as governor of the country, who dispensed the rations to all the people. When Joseph's brothers came and knelt down before him with their faces to the ground, he recognized them as soon as he saw them. But Joseph concealed his own identity from them and spoke sternly to them.

            I came across a maxim lately that I think carries not only a social lesson, but also a spiritual one. The maxim is “he’s playing chess while others are playing checkers.” Have you heard that before? Even if you are not a “grand chess master,” you probably know the enormous difference between chess and checkers. Checkers is fairly straight forward; red pieces battle against black pieces, and move only in one direction, until they are fortunate enough to become kings. Checker games are short and sweet. Chess, on the other hand, is quite complex: two whole kingdoms wage war, the pieces move in different directions – pawns, castles, knights, bishops – and the most powerful piece on the board is the queen. Women instinctively love to play chess, and wish more men would learn.

            An illuminating illustration of this maxim – he’s playing chess while others play checkers – is the movie, “Casablanca.” Do you remember what Humphrey Bogart is doing the first time you see him? He’s playing chess. But most people do not see the delicious detail that there’s no one on the other side of the table, no opponent, which means he’s playing chess by himself. If you play close attention to the plot of “Casablanca,” you’ll quick catch how Bogart moves through the movie anticipating other’s moves and is always two or three steps ahead of Major Strasser, Captain Renault and Victor Laszlo. In other words, they’re all playing checkers – Major Strasser, the Nazi, is trying to take over the world, Renault is trying to make more money, or Laszlo is leading the resistance – while Bogart is playing chess – trying to help all of them moved by love, but most especially Ilsa Lund, his queen, clearly the most powerful piece on the board. The movie helps us see how many people play checkers, but only a few play chess, indeed, sometimes, only one.

             In the reading from Genesis, this maxim helps us see which “games” Joseph and his brothers are playing as well. I would suggest to you that Joseph is playing chess, while his brothers are playing checkers. How so? A famine has spread over the whole world, and Jacob’s family comes begging for bread from Pharaoh. Joseph has become “prime minister” in Egypt, second only to Pharaoh, and tests his brothers, asking them to bring their youngest brother, Benjamin. The brothers just play checkers – they want food, basic necessities of life – while Joseph plays chess – he desire God’s justice and love, higher and holier ends. Like Bogart, Joseph, masterfully maneuvers everyone to fulfill God’s will – installing the Israelites in the most prosperous part of Egypt (Goshen), helping the people to become fruitful and multiply, but only to reveal how God has stayed two or three steps ahead of them. Most play checkers, but only a few play chess.

             My friends, what game are you playing? Are you simply laying a sort of “checkers” in life – chasing after money, sex and power – missing how magnificent the drama of life really is? How sad it is to see so many people think that the purpose of life is to maximize pleasure and to minimize pain. They merely play checkers. On the other hand, if you look through the eyes of faith, you’ll see laid out before you a spiritual and supernatural chess board, where two kingdoms wage war – the Kingdom of God and the kingdom of Satan – where history unfolds not because of political or military or economic forces, but according to the will of God, who like Bogart is always two or three steps ahead of everyone else. And who’s the most powerful piece on the board? It’s the queen, of course, Mother Mary, and that’s why all Catholics love chess!

             This vision of faith and this interpretation of life, prompted Paul to pen to the Romans: “All things work together for the good of those who love God” (Romans 8:28). Most people play checkers, but few – the few who have faith – play chess. They see what God sees and can stay two or three steps ahead of everyone else.

            By the way, did you know that in real life, Humphrey Bogart, the actor, was an accomplished chess player? He held the rank of 2100, which is outstanding. When you see history through the eyes of faith, you, too, might feel the confidence of Christianity, like Bogart did in Casablanca, and raise the toast, “Here’s looking at you, kid.” That’s a toast to Mary, of course.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Two Faces of Heaven

Seeing the face of God and our own true faces

07/11/2017

Genesis 32:23-33 In the course of the night, Jacob arose, took his two wives,  with the two maidservants and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. After he had taken them across the stream and had brought over all his possessions, Jacob was left there alone. Then some man wrestled with him until the break of dawn. When the man saw that he could not prevail over him, he struck Jacob's hip at its socket, so that the hip socket was wrenched as they wrestled. The man then said, "Let me go, for it is daybreak." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go until you bless me." The man asked, "What is your name?" He answered, "Jacob." Then the man said, "You shall no longer be spoken of as Jacob, but as Israel, because you have contended with divine and human beings and have prevailed." Jacob then asked him, "Do tell me your name, please." He answered, "Why should you want to know my name?" With that, he bade him farewell. Jacob named the place Peniel, "Because I have seen God face to face," he said, "yet my life has been spared."

            Few things are as fascinating as the human face, especially our own face. That’s why we cannot walk by a mirror without glancing at our own face. Parents cannot stop staring at the face of their newborn baby, and feel they see heaven itself in their morning smiles. Lovers love to look on each other’s faces, and can’t take their eyes off each other (or their hands off each other). Indeed, Juliet thought Romeo would make even heaven’s face more beautiful when she said, “And when I shall die / Take him and cut him out in little stars / And he will make the face of heaven so fine / That all the world will be in love with night / And pay no worship to the garish sun” (Romeo and Juliet, III, 2). Have you seen Leonardo Da Vinci’s masterpiece, his portrait of the Mona Lisa? He captured something timeless in her subtle smile. I painted the Mona Lisa once, too, but I was using a paint-by-numbers art set, and it was pretty good. In Homer’s Iliad, the Trojan War was waged over the beauty of lovely Helen, who was famed to have “a face that could launch a thousand ships.” The human face is hugely fascinating.

           In the first reading today, Jacob gets a golden opportunity to glimpse the face of God. He wrestles all night with an angel, and in the morning, when the angel departs, Jacob names the place “Peniel.” Why? Jacob explains why: “Because I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been spared.” In other words, seeing the face of God is not going to be easy – it will be hard, it will require a struggle, indeed, you must first “wrestle with God.” And in the process of this struggle, Jacob is changed, too, symbolized by his new name, “Israel.” That is, he is given a new identity, his true identity. Jacob can see his own face for the first time after this night’s struggle. When we wrestle with God, we are able to see two faces: we see God’s face for the first time, but we also can see our own face for the first time.

           My friends, doesn’t Genesis 32 capture in a chapter the whole journey of Christian life? In other words, isn’t our whole life one mighty, long night’s struggle with angels, so that when this night ends, when we wake eternally in the light of heaven, we can see the face of God? St. Teresa of Avila, the great Carmelite mystic, who wrestled like few other Christians have with God, described life perfectly when she quipped, “It’s like a bad night in a bad inn.” This is how we should see our own struggles – the untimely death of a loved one, the unexpected diagnosis of cancer, the loss of a job, the heartache of a divorce, the difficulties of discerning a vocation, the doubts of faith, the nagging sin we cannot overcome, “the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to” as Hamlet opined (Hamlet, III, 1). This is how we wrestle with angels, this is our Christian life; get used to it.

            But if we fight this good fight of faith, our reward will be the same as that of Jacob, when this night of earthly life ends with the dawn of heaven’s day, we will see the Face of God. And what will be equally as surprising, although not nearly as beautiful, is that we will finally see our own face, our true identity (which we looked for in vain in all those mirrors). And by the way, our face will be so alluring and our smile so subtle, that not even Leonardo DaVinci will be able to paint it, not even using a paint-by-numbers set.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Mystery Christians

Learning to love the mystery of the Mass

07/09/2017

Matthew 11:25-30 At that time Jesus exclaimed: "I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him." "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."

          I have been assigned as pastor to over 18 parishes and in every parish I have encountered certain people I call “mystery Christians.” I don’t mean they are “mysterious” in any pejorative sense – it’s not an insult – on the contrary, I intend that title as very high praise. What’s mysterious about them is their motivation in coming to Mass. It’s not what moves most people to get out of bed on Sunday and stumble into this sacred space. They don’t come to Mass to hear great preaching, a soul-stirring sermon. They would come to Mass even if I put everyone to sleep (and I have before). They don’t come because the music is by Mozart or the singing sounds like a Broadway musical. They’d come even if the music were in sign language. They also don’t come because the church looks like a Gothic cathedral or because the chalices are gilded with gold and the vestments are brocaded with gems. They’d come regardless of the grandeur of the buildings or the splendor of the linens; they’d come for the sacraments in a shed.

           Now this is a mystery to me because I’ve always believed that if I preached better or the choir sang better or we could build more beautiful churches, people would pack the place. And, to be sure, more people do come when these things happen, but this wouldn’t make the “mystery Christians” move a muscle. Those things don’t register on their religions Richter scale. That’s why these Christians are a mystery to me: they do not share the same motivations that move the majority of the people to come to Mass.

            So, why do they come to Mass? Well, that’s the real reason I call them “mystery Christians,” because they come to Mass to experience the mystery of God’s love in Jesus Christ. And that love is indeed a great mystery. It’s a mystery because while it can be enhanced by all these externals (like good preaching), it does not depend on them, it’s independent of them. At Mass, you still touch the mystery of divine love in spite of poor preaching, mediocre music, and crooked candles on the altar.

The New Testament uses the Greek word “mysterion” which is translated sometimes as “mystery” but also in Latin as “sacramentum,” or as we know it in English, as “sacrament.” In other words, hidden in the divine depths of every sacrament lies a mystery (mysterion) – which is nothing other than God’s love poured out for us in Christ Jesus – and that sacramental mystery is what these “mystery Christians” come to see every Sunday, in fact, they’d never miss a chance to come see this mystery; they’d never miss Mass.

           In the gospel today, Jesus shows his special solicitude for these “mystery Christians,” too. He praises his Father, saying: “You have hidden these things from the wise and learned [and] you have revealed them to the little ones.” Now, what does Jesus mean by “little ones”? Well, he does not mean “little children.” Rather, he goes on to explain: “No one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.” In other words, Jesus means by “little ones” the same people that I mean by “mystery Christians.” That is, they are the ones who have learned the mystery of God’s love in Jesus Christ because Jesus has revealed this to them. And that’s what they find and feel at every Mass, and why they wouldn’t miss Mass even on vacation! When they go to Mass, they don’t worry about how long the song or how short the sermon, whether it’s the pope or a poor parish priest behind the altar, because none of that matters in the light of the sacramental mystery in the middle of the Mass.

            My friends, how do we become more like these “mystery Christians” who would never dare miss Mass? Well, it takes prayer and patience, it takes perseverance and practice. You learn by doing; holiness is a habit. That’s why many of the mystery Christians are usually older people. They don’t come to Mass just because they are retired and have too much time on their hands (although that helps, too). Rather, the “school of hard knocks,” that is, life, has knocked a lot of silliness out of their heads and hearts. They have been tested and tried and tempted and tortured – sometimes by horrible homilies and high-pitched hymns – and they’ve learned at last that’s not what matters most about the Mass. They’ve sort of peeled off the layers of the liturgy, like an onion, until they found the sacramental mystery at the core: the love of God in Jesus Christ. It just takes time for that kind of spiritual transformation to take place.

             One of the great Catholic intellectual lights of the last century was Msgr. Romano Guardini. In his book, called simply The Lord, he explains how John’s gospel is so much deeper than the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Have you noticed how different and deeper John’s gospel is? He writes: “[John’s] Christ is painted from life – the historical life in which he, John, personally participated. Since then it has been enriched by long years of Christian experience, of prayer, proclamation, of struggle. Layer after layer of sacred reality has come to light.” Guardini concludes: “Thus, in the earth of long apostolic, prophetic and apocalyptical experience, they (these layers) unfold to the total reality of Christ in all its ‘breadth and length and height and depth’ (Ephesians 3:18)” (The Lord, 166). St. John died when he was around 100 years old, 50-60 years later then the other apostles, so he had time to perceive the richness and pick the ripe fruit of Christ’s love.  If it took St. John the Evangelist and Apostle a lifetime to become a “mystery Christian,” one of Christ’s a “little one,” don’t feel bad if it takes you a long time, too.

                By the way, in 1965, Pope Paul VI offered to make Msgr. Guardini a “Cardinal” of the church, but he turned it down. I guess once you’ve tasted the sacramental mystery of the Mass, everything else seems like small potatoes.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

A Hand in History

Seeing the deeper undercurrents of divine providence

07/08/2017

Genesis 27:1-5, 15-29 When Isaac was so old that his eyesight had failed him, he called his older son Esau and said to him, "Son!" "Yes father!" he replied. Isaac then said, "As you can see, I am so old that I may now die at any time. Take your gear, therefore–your quiver and bow– and go out into the country to hunt some game for me. With your catch prepare an appetizing dish for me, such as I like, and bring it to me to eat, so that I may give you my special blessing before I die." Rebekah had been listening while Isaac was speaking to his son Esau. So, when Esau went out into the country to hunt some game for his father, Rebekah [then] took the best clothes of her older son Esau that she had in the house, and gave them to her younger son Jacob to wear; and with the skins of the kids she covered up his hands and the hairless parts of his neck. Then she handed her son Jacob the appetizing dish and the bread she had prepared.

         Have you ever heard the proverb, “God writes straight with crooked lines”? It means that what looks insensible and incongruent could carry a deeper meaning and message, namely, God’s plans and purposes. A perfect illustration of this proverb is surprisingly the history of the proverb itself. I tried to find its origin – who used it first – but I couldn’t. Some scholars attribute it to the Portuguese in the 16th century, while others say it goes all the way back to St. Augustine in the 5th century. In other words, the history of the proverb – from its obscure origins to Fr. John’s homily today – is full of crooked lines, but perhaps it was God who was writing straight with it. O, as I like to say, “The Holy Spirit is driving the bus.” Now, I started that proverb, and it’s copyrighted, so you cannot use it.

The Catholic historian, Christopher Dawson, argues that God’s hand is on history, on the macro level, that is, on the level of nations and cultures. He writes: “Certainly religion is the great creative force in culture and almost every historic culture has been inspired and informed by some great religion” (Dynamics of World History, 114). In other words, the dynamics of world history are really divine. What happened in the history of that little proverb also occurs in the history of humanity: what may look like crooked lines to us is really God’s hand in history.

           In the first reading today, it is clearly by knavery and treachery that Jacob receives Isaac’s blessing instead of Esau. With his mother’s prompting, Jacob disguises himself as his older brother, Esau; he fools his blind father, Isaac; and receives the “blessing of the first born,” which, incidentally, entitled the recipient to a double share of the inheritance and assuming the role of father-figure over the family.  The blessing of the firstborn was no small thing.  Up close, that moment in Israel’s history appears as a crooked line, by a crooked kid. But step back, and we see how God’s hand guided that history to his holy purposes: establishing Jacob as the father of the twelve tribes of Israel, and ultimately as the forefather of Jesus, the Messiah. There is always a hand in history: the history of the little proverb, the dynamic history of the world, and especially the history of Israel. And it’s a holy hand; God’s hand.

I was watching the movie “Batman: the Dark Knight Rises,” recently and was struck by something Commissioner Gorden said. He promoted a police officer to detective when he saw his impressive research on a crime. The new detective brushing aside his work, saying, “It’s inconclusive, just a bunch of coincidences.” Gorden replied, “You’re a detective now; you’re not allowed to believe in coincidences.” That’s also true for every Christian. People of faith are not allowed to believe in coincidences, or even in crooked lines for that matter. Rather, we must open our eyes to the deeper undercurrents of history and perceive the holy Hand of God guiding it to his goals. In short, providence precludes coincidences. Think over the history of your own life and study and scrutinize the people and places, the events and encounters that were your milestones of your history. And remember, people of faith are not allowed to believe in coincidences; there is no “happenstance” in your history.  Nothing happened by accident. Don’t focus only on the pleasant and profitable points, either, but also include the dark and depressing details. Why?  Well, your history is a tapestry of triumphs and tragedies, but more importantly, there has been a hand in that history – God’s loving hand – guiding it to his ultimate purposes.

            And what are those purposes, you might ask? We read in Jeremiah 29:11, from a prophet keenly aware of the purposes of providence, who said, “For I know well the plans I have in mind for you—oracle of the LORD—plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope.” Perhaps it’s only at the end of history we will see clearly the trajectory of history, namely, heaven, a history where there never were any coincidences, or even any crooked lines.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

The Niche Next Door

Coming to terms with the burial of our own bodies

07/07/2017

GN 23:1-4, 19 The span of Sarah's life was one hundred and twenty-seven years. She died in Kiriatharba (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan, and Abraham performed the customary mourning rites for her. Then he left the side of his dead one and addressed the Hittites: "Although I am a resident alien among you, sell me from your holdings a piece of property for a burial ground, that I may bury my dead wife." After the transaction, Abraham buried his wife Sarahin the cave of the field of Machpelah, facing Mamre (that is, Hebron) in the land of Canaan.

         At some point in life we become comfortable thinking about our own death. By the way, that age is NOT 47. What I mean is that I can understand death “biologically,” as the end of the life of the body, and also “theologically,” as one of the “four last things” – death, judgment, heaven and hell – the transition to the “after life.” But I do not understand it “personally” – that Fr. John will die. Even saying those words sends a chill up my spine, “Fr. John will die.” It feels a lot more like fiction than fact. Are you at the age where you’re comfortable thinking about your own death?

           I think the point when our passing becomes personal, and not just philosophical, is when we make arrangements for our own burial. That’s the point when I accept deep in my bones that one day these bones will be buried deep in the earth. One friend uses euphemisms to describe death, saying, “You will be six feet under, pushing up daisies.” I have not thought about my own burial, and I suppose I’ll be buried at Calvary Cemetery in Little Rock, the so-called “Priests Circle.” This may be one reason we’re going very slowly in selling niches in the columbarium here at Immaculate Conception. People joke about who their neighbor will be in the niche next door. “I don’t want to spend eternity next to Fr. John!” Even though we know we will die one day in theory, we’re not ready to tackle that possibility in practice. It’s hard to deal with our own demise.

            In the first reading today, Abraham finds himself facing the final disposition of his wife, Sara, that is, dealing with her death. Apparently, Abraham, like me, hasn’t given this much thought, because he has to purchase land for a burial ground. Providentially, he buys the area called “Hebron,” where, one thousand years later, King David would rule as King of Israel for seven years. David’s reign begin on the ground made sacred by the bones of his ancestors. Abraham says, “Although I am a resident alien among you, sell me from your holdings a piece of property for a burial ground that I may bury my dead wife.” Incidentally, Abraham’s plight is common to all immigrants, who struggle over where to bury their beloved dead. They ask themselves: is my true home my native land or this new land? Last week we had the funeral of an immigrant from Mexico, whose body was shipped back to Mexico for burial. It’s not until we face the question of where we will be buried that we tackle the tough personal question of dealing with our own demise.

             Today, I’d like to invite you to think for a moment about your own death, specifically about your burial. Captain Kirk said in Star Trek, “How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life.” So, how will you deal with your own death, that is, your burial? The popularity of cremations has introduced new and un-Catholic customs of burial. Some people spread their loved one’s ashes over a lake or a mountainside, or keep them perpetually on their mantle at home. We can certainly sympathize with people’s grief and anguish of letting go. But the right thing to do is bury the ashes. This is one of the “corporal works of mercy,” namely, “bury the dead.” Abraham was performing a corporal work of mercy for his wife, Sara.

             We also treat the body with great respect and reverence because it is sacred. Your body was washed in baptism, your body was nourished with Jesus’ Body and Blood, your body was united to another body in marriage, your body was anointed with Sacred Chrism at Confirmation and your body was anointed with holy oil when it received the Last Rites. Those ashes are sacred, and who knows, maybe they’ll be the relics of a saint one day. How we will revere the relics of your saintly father after he’s canonized if you spread his ashes over his favorite fishing hole?

On second thought, maybe I have answered my original question about when someone begins to think about death. Apparently, it is at age 47. I just spent a whole homily talking about death and where I’ll probably be buried. And by the way, that’s a much holier thought than worrying about who will be buried in the niche next door.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Grading God

Passing the test with the grace God gives

07/06/2017

Genesis 22:1B-19 

God put Abraham to the test. He called to him, "Abraham!" "Here I am," he replied.  Then God said: "Take your son Isaac, your only one, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah. There you shall offer him up as a burnt offering on a height that I will point out to you." Early the next morning Abraham saddled his donkey, took with him his son Isaac, and two of his servants as well, and with the wood that he had cut for the burnt offering, set out for the place of which God had told him. On the third day Abraham got sight of the place from afar. Then he said to his servants: "Both of you stay here with the donkey, while the boy and I go on over yonder. We will worship and then come back to you."  Thereupon Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac's shoulders, while he himself carried the fire and the knife. As the two walked on together, Isaac spoke to his father Abraham: "Father!" he said. "Yes, son," he replied. Isaac continued, "Here are the fire and the wood, but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?" "Son," Abraham answered,  "God himself will provide the sheep for the burnt offering." Then the two continued going forward.

           I love to teach. In fact, if I had not become a priest, I would have become a teacher. This is one reason I take so much time to prepare my homilies: it’s a way to teach. This is also why I give little summaries of Catholic teachings – in French called a “précis” – at the parish council meetings. We’ve discussed Islam, Vatican II and the history of the Old Testament. These are all just outlets for my “inner teacher.”

             One of the most effective tools for teaching is by giving a test. At the parish council meetings, I give quizzes on the previous précis. And of course, the parish council members love that. Now, where is the test for every homily you hear? It’s waiting for you when you walk out the church doors after Mass. In other words, how you live your life is the “test” you take after hearing a homily.  Life is a test.

              But I’ve learned that the one who is really being tested is the teacher. I tell the parish council members to grade their test, and then return it, but not to put their names on it. Of course, the ones who make 100 always put their names on it. Why no name? Well, because I want to see how well I’m teaching the précis. In other words, the test is really of the teacher, and in a sense, it’s my name that’s on the test. The student takes the test, but it’s the teacher who is graded.

              The first reading today begins with the ominous and foreboding words, “God put Abraham to the test.” Do you remember the terrifying test of Genesis 22? It was the hardest test in human history: Abraham was asked to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Unbelievably, Abraham passed that test! But do you remember how he managed to do it? At the critical juncture of their journey up Mount Moriah, innocent Isaac asks, “Father! Here are the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” Abraham, the father of faith, make a prophetic promise, and answered: “God will provide the lamb for the sacrifice.” Archbishop Fulton Sheen said Abraham’s words were wafted up into the air of Mt. Moriah and floated down the centuries, until 2,000 years later, John the Baptist uttered those words again, and sort of answered Abraham, saying, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” as he beheld Jesus. In other words, how did Abraham pass the test of Genesis 22? He knew that in every test the teacher is really the one being tested, in this case, God Himself. When Abraham said, “God will provide the lamb,” he believed that God would give Abraham the grace needed to pass. Why? Because even though Abraham took the test, God was being graded.  It was God’s name on the test.

              My friends, maybe this will give you a little comfort and hope when you are put to the test. You see, God loves to teach far more than I do. How often in the Gospels we hear people call Jesus, “Teacher” or “Rabbi” (which is a Jewish teacher). Like every good Teacher, God gives tests. Sometimes his tests come in the form of a devastating divorce, or the test looks like a lost job, or the test comes likes cancer, or the test is doubts of faith. Maybe the test is just making it to Mass on Sunday, or saying your prayers each day, or forgiving your spouse one more time. When you are in the throes of that test, remember what Abraham did, and say, “God will provide the Lamb.” In other words, God will give you the grace you need in Jesus, the Lamb of God, to pass the test. Why will God give you that grace? Well, because even though you take the test, God is the one being graded.  God’s name is on your test.

               I realize that may not give you much consolation; it doesn’t get you out of taking the test.  But maybe it will be enough consolation, at least to help you pass the test.

 Praised be Jesus Christ!

The Faith of Foreigners

Learning the value of citizenship from foreigners

07/03/2017

John 20:24-29 

Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples said to him, "We have seen the Lord." But Thomas said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe." Now a week later his disciples were again inside and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe." Thomas answered and said to him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed."

          In my conversations with people, someone invariably asks: “Why did your family immigrate to the United States?” I’m always taken aback and surprised by the question and my first reaction is to say, “Why wouldn’t anyone want to immigrate to this country??” In this country, we enjoy freedoms people only dream of in other countries, like going to Mass whenever and wherever we choose, even at 7 a.m.! In the United States we have the opportunity to study any subject and pursue any professions even the priesthood, if we so desire. And ultimately, we can leave behind a legacy to our children not only of wealth but also of wisdom, because this country gives us amply opportunity to accumulate both.

            Let me share with you a little of the legacy of this great land. The 2nd president of the United States, John Adams, before he became president, in 1770 actually defended the British against the Colonists because it was the right thing to do, even though painfully unpopular. He argued: “Facts are stubborn things, and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.” Adams successfully freed the Red Coats, because he believed in freedom. Almost one hundred years later, in 1863, the 16th president, Abraham Lincoln, would stand at the Gettysburg Battlefield and assert: “We here highly resolved that these dead shall not have died in vain – that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.” Under Lincoln’s leadership, the country was not torn asunder but saved. Almost one hundred years later, in 1961, the 35th president, John F. Kennedy, would urge us in his inaugural address: “My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” Inspired by his words, America put a man on the moon by the end of the decade. I share these quotations with you because sometimes it takes a foreigner to teach a citizen exactly how great his country really is. That’s why my family immigrated here.

             In the gospel today, Thomas learns a similar lesson: sometimes foreigners know better than citizens the value of their native land. You know the story of “Doubting Thomas.” Even though Jesus has been with him 3 years, and predicted he would rise from the dead, and the other apostles all attested to the Resurrection, Thomas doubts. Jesus appears and reprimands the incredulous apostle, saying, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” In other words, Jesus predicts that others will come later and enjoy citizenship in the Kingdom who will appreciate these gifts of grace, and believe better than those who were native sons. Of course, I don’t want to be too hard on St. Thomas. Jesus’ gentle scolding inspired him to go to India, and evangelize the people there, that is to say, my ancestors. Thanks to the doubting of Thomas, I believe. Nevertheless, sometimes a foreigner must teach a citizen how great his country is.

My friends, as Americans and as Catholics we run a double risk of taking for grated our country and our church. We can lose sight of the vastness of our freedom as Americans, but also the value of our faith as Catholics. And what we take for granted can soon be gone. We can lose our freedom and we can lose our faith; just listen to those who speak so callously against this country, even burning the American flag in effigy, and think of those who have stopped practicing their Catholic faith. Know anybody like that? What you take for granted can soon be gone.

            That’s why I’m so glad for our RCIA classes each year. New converts embrace Catholicism with enthusiasm, excitement and energy, and remind me how great it is to be Catholic. That’s why we sign them up for every committee and group, too. Foreigners remind the native sons how great their citizenship is. And that’s true whether your citizenship is on earth, or in heaven.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Squirrels at the Synagogue

Embracing our cross of grief in order to gain the crown of glory

07/02/2017

Matthew 10:37-42 

Jesus said to his apostles: "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. "Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me. Whoever receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet's reward, and whoever receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man will receive a righteous man's reward. And whoever gives only a cup of cold water to one of these little ones to drink because the little one is a disciple—amen, I say to you, he will surely not lose his reward."

           Did you hear recently that the local churches have been having squirrel infestation problems? It’s really bad, and the different denominations have each employed theologically appropriate solutions, befitting each congregation. For example, the Presbyterian church called a meeting to decide what to do about their squirrels. After much prayer and dialogue, they concluded the squirrels were predestined to be there and they shouldn’t interfere with God’s divine will. (Presbyterians believe in predestination.) At the Baptist church the squirrels had taken an interest in the baptistery. The deacons met and decided to put a water slide on the baptistery and let the squirrels drown themselves. But to the deacons’ surprise, the squirrels liked the slide, and knew how to swim, so twice as many showed up the following week.

             The Methodist church decided they should not harm any of God’s creatures. They have great respect for God’s creation. So, they humanely trapped their squirrels and set them free near the Baptist church. But two weeks later the squirrels were back when the Baptists took down the water slide. The Catholic church came up with an almost perfect plan. Now, I’m not going to say which Catholic church this was, but the squirrels all had German last names. This church baptized the squirrels and confirmed them, and now they only return on Christmas and Easter. Finally, not much was heard from the Jewish synagogue. But rumor has it, they took the first squirrel and had him circumcised. They haven’t seen a squirrel since. Now, in case you didn’t catch on, that was just a joke, a little holy humor. The only part that was true is the part about the Catholic church.

But that joke also offers us a spiritual insight: anyone who wants to come to the church must suffer a little: regardless of whether you’re a squirrel or a sinner or a saint. Archbishop Fulton Sheen often said: “There can be no Easter Sunday Resurrection without a Good Friday Crucifixion,” and that holds true not only for Christ but also for Christians. In other words, there can be no crown of glory without first a cross of grief.

           In the gospel today, Jesus insists his followers catch this same insight. He says rather bluntly: “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” Clearly, being Christian is going to come at a cost. And more specifically, he says: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.” Folks, do you really love Jesus more than your mom or dad and more than your son or daughter? Well, that’s exactly what Abraham was asked and what he accomplished in being willing to sacrifice his son, Isaac. It takes real sacrifice to make Jesus Number One in our lives. Finally, Jesus summarizes it all up by adding: “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.” In other words, no Christian can waltz into church and painlessly pick up his or her crown of glory. First, he or she must shoulder his or her cross of grief. There can be no Easter Sunday Crown for me or for you without first a Good Friday Cross.

           Right in the middle of the Mass, we make this same dramatic point in the dialogue between priest and people. After he has prepared the altar of sacrifice, the priest says a spiritually-charged statement: “Pray brothers and sisters that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God the Almighty Father.” Notice how the priest distinguishes two different sacrifices. First he says, “my sacrifice,” and then he says, “and yours.” Theologically, that means the priest offers the bread and wine of the Eucharist as his own sacrifice. But the people offer their own sacrifice, which is something different. It’s as if the priest were saying: “Look, this bread and wine is my sacrifice; ya’ll get your own sacrifice!” And so where is the people’s sacrifice? Well, partially, it is in the collection that’s taken up and sometimes even placed in front of the altar of sacrifice. Giving money to the church can feel like a sacrifice, worse than squirrels at the synagogue.

            But let me share with you some examples of other sacrifices you also place on the altar. Parents make great sacrifices in taking care of their children: all-night feeding of newborns, driving children to soccer and piano and cub scouts, patiently bearing teenage angst and anger. Why do you think I became a priest? Couples who suffer a divorce shoulder a heavy cross of guilt and shame and failure. And then there are the sacrifices of time and money and vacations and new cars that families make to send their children to Catholic schools. You know, my parents often reminded us of those sacrifices so we’d study harder. Catholic guilt works great on Catholic school kids! What about the suffering of chronic pain and terminal illnesses, Alzheimer’s and dementia? Maybe your cross is some mental illness or emotional disorder; or your cross is addiction to alcohol or drugs; or your cross is a unforgiving family feud; or your cross is profound loneliness even in the middle of a crowd; or your cross is doubts about your faith; or your cross is your sexual orientation; or your cross is coming to Mass every Sunday. Sometimes it’s a great sacrifice to darken the doors of a Catholic church.

             So, when the cross comes your way, don’t be surprised or shocked or sad. Don’t think God is punishing you or wants to make you miserable. The cross is the condition for the crown, and your Creator has lovingly crafted your cross for you from all eternity. And so humbly accept your cross and do you best to carry it. Why? Well, because you cannot come to church without a cross, and a sacrifice to offer. “Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God the Almighty Father.” Wh

en the priest says that, have you sacrifice in hand to place on the altar. And remember: the Eucharistic sacrifice of bread and mine is mine; ya’ll get your own!

Praised be Jesus Christ!