A Ghost Story for Christmas

Understanding Jesus’ parable of the rich man

03/20/2025

Luke 16:19-31 Jesus said to the Pharisees: "There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man's table. Dogs even used to come and lick his sores. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried, and from the netherworld, where he was in torment, he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he cried out, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.' Abraham replied, 'My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours.' He said, 'Then I beg you, father, send him to my father's house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment.' But Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.' He said, 'Oh no, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.' Then Abraham said, 'If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”

Every year around Christmas time, I love to watch the Charles Dickens’ classic “A Christmas Carol.” Many people do not know the full title of the short book is: “A Christmas Carol. In Prose. Being a Ghost Story of Christmas.” What a jarring juxtaposition: no one thinks of a ghost story in association with the season of Christmas. Right?

But I believe Dickens touches on the very heartbeat of Christmas: a baby is born so he could one day die and rise again, not as a ghost but in glory, so that we might not be ghosts but enjoy that glory, too. You remember, of course, the rough contours of the Dickens’ classic. An elderly miser named Ebenezer Scrooge cares only about money and hates everything about Christmas: the fun, the faith, and the family time.

He is visited by three ghosts – one of Christmas past, another of Christmas present, and a third of Christmas future – and he sees how his life is unfolding and begins to see the error of his ways. But the purpose of the ghostly visitors was not so much to scare the hell out of him – which they did very well – but more so to scare the heaven into him, which they accomplished beautifully. 

How so? Well, remember in the end when he runs through the streets in his pajamas singing and dancing and buying everyone gifts? He was living the true Christmas spirit, namely, living inspired by the Holy Spirit, rather than being haunted by ghosts, dead spirits. As a result, Scrooge’s own future would not be ghostly but full of glory.

In the gospel today Jesus tells a very unusual parable about a rich man and ghosts, surprisingly similar to Dickens’ “A Ghost Story about Christmas.” I have always wondered if this parable inspired Dickens’ literary imagination. A rich man ends up in a place of torment and begs Abraham to help his five brothers: “If someone from the dead [a ghost] goes to them, they will repent.”

The irony is that even though Ebenezer repented of his greed, Abraham foresaw the opposite effect for the rich man’s brothers. He foretells the future incredulity of the Jewish leaders after Jesus rises from the dead: “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”

My friends, both Dickens’ prose and Jesus’ parable lay a challenge at our feet today, in this season of Lent. What will it take for us to change our lives and live entirely according to the Spirit of Christmas, that is, always inspired by the Holy Spirit, traditionally called “the Holy Ghost”? In other words, do we need the hell scared out of us like Scrooge did, or can we have the heaven scared into us like the disciples did after Jesus’ resurrection?

They saw not a ghost but our Lord’s glory. And not only were their lives changed but they changed the world. In a sense, they apostles became like Ebenezer Scrooge and only cared about faith and fun and family. They ran and danced throughout the world buying gifts for the poor. You know, I really wish people would remember the longer title of Charles Dickens’ classic: “A Christmas Carol. In Prose. Being a Ghost Story of Christmas.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Baby Daddy

Seeing and imitating St. Joseph's compassion

03/19/2025

Matthew 1:16, 18-21, 24a Jacob was the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ. Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly. Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home.

I want to tell you a little story about sacrifice. You have probably heard of the famous Indian leader and liberator Mahatma Gandhi. He’s one of my heroes. One day a worried mother brought her troubled toddler to him to ask for help.

She said, “I don’t know what to do with him. He runs around the house non-stop. He fights with his siblings and friends. And he won’t listen to a word I say. I’ve tried everything to calm him down but nothing works. Can you help me, please?”

Mahatma Gandhi thought for a moment and then answered, “I think I know what the problem is. Come back in a month and I will tell you what you should do.” The mother left feeling puzzled. Nonetheless, she came back with her son a month later as directed.

She asked, “Okay, now can you please tell me what I should do?” Gandhi replied, “Yes, your son has too much sugar in his diet and you should stop giving him sweets. “ The mother felt relieved but asked: “Why didn’t you tell me this a month ago?” Gandhi answered: “A month ago I had not given up sugar or sweets.”

You see, Gandhi didn’t want to ask the little boy to make a sacrifice he was not willing to make himself first. And by the way, Gandhi demonstrated the true meaning of the word “compassion.” Compassion comes from two Latin words, “cum” meaning “with” and “passio” which means to suffer.

Compassion, in other words, is love for others that desires to suffer along with someone who’s suffering, like Gandhi gave up sweets like the little boy had to. And this is the true spirit of sacrifice: to suffer with others.

Today, March 19, is the Solemnity of St. Joseph, the Husband of Mary. Incidentally, “solemnity” means it is like a “Sunday” and that is why we said the Gloria, and after the homily we will recite the Creed today.

One of the great virtues of St. Joseph is that he was a man of great compassion and willing to suffer with others, especially his wife, Mary. How so? Well, at first he is troubled when he hears that she is pregnant and he is clearly not “the baby daddy.”

But then an angel inspires him to do what Gandhi did, namely, not to divorce her or kick her to the curb, but to suffer with her. Joseph practiced great compassion toward Mary, solidarity with her in her suffering, a pregnant teenager.

Indeed, they would continue to show great compassion toward each other by being chaste and celibate for the rest of their lives. In other words, Joseph, like Gandhi, was a saint of great compassion, ready to suffer with others.

Boys and girls, have you given up something for Lent? Maybe like Gandhi and that toddler you gave up sweets. Or maybe you gave up Tik-Tok or Snap Chat, or video games. Maybe you are not giving up something but are adding something.

Maybe you are going to an extra Mass, or reading the Bible daily or praying the Rosary. Some of you may be helping the poor by the Rice Bowl program or donating food or clothing to a charity. And those are certainly great things to do for Lent.

But this Lent can I also ask you to practice a little compassion and suffer along with someone else that you know is hurting? I’m sure you have friends, or family, or classmates, or even teachers or coaches who are going through a tough time.

Maybe make a small sacrifice for them and say a prayer for them like Gandhi and St. Joseph. You cannot always stop someone else’s suffering, but you can show solidarity (unity) with their suffering. Let me leave you with a quotation from George MacDonald, a Presbyterian minister who inspired C. S. Lewis.

See if you can catch how this quotation is another way to describe the virtue of compassion: “The Son of Man [Jesus] came to earth to suffer and die not so that we might not have to, but so that our suffering might be like his.”

That is, so our suffering would not be empty but full of meaning, meaning we are becoming more like Jesus. And I might add, “So that Jesus’ suffering could become more like ours.” And that is a little story about sacrifice.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Luck of the Irish

Seeing luck as an expression of God’s providential love

03/17/2025

Luke 5:1-11 While the crowd was pressing in on Jesus and listening to the word of God, he was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret. He saw two boats there alongside the lake; the fishermen had disembarked and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, he asked him to put out a short distance from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. After he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch." Simon said in reply, "Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing, but at your command I will lower the nets." When they had done this, they caught a great number of fish and their nets were tearing. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come to help them. They came and filled both boats so that they were in danger of sinking. When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at the knees of Jesus and said, "Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man." For astonishment at the catch of fish they had made seized him and all those with him, and likewise James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were partners of Simon. Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men." When they brought their boats to the shore, they left everything and followed him.

I hate to admit this but I am a fan of the “Deadpool” movies. If you have watched them, you probably felt like you needed to go to confession afterwards, like I did. But I was fascinated by one character in Deadpool 2 named Dominio because her superpower was “luck.” She really should have been called “Lady Luck.”

Whenever she was fighting a bad guy some chance or accidental event would occur saving her and simultaneously killing the bad guy. At first sight “being lucky” sounds like the worst kind of superpower someone could wield. But as the movie goes on you realize how valuable “being lucky" really is.

I mention the superpower of luck today on the feast of St. Patrick because the Irish are famously known for being lucky. We say, “Ah, the luck of the Irish.” But the real Irish are deeply Catholic, and they would not call their superpower “luck” but rather “providence,” or “relying on God’s will” to save them.

In a sense, the greatest superpower is total reliance on God’s love and wisdom to guide not only the whole universe, but also to guide our individual lives as well. The wider world may call fortunate happenstance “luck,” but we Christians know to call it “divine providence,” or better “divine love.”

In the gospel today Jesus calls St. Peter through a dramatic catch of fish. Jesus says to the fisherman – words that will have a far-reaching meaning in the history of Christianity – “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” And even though Simon Peter objects at first, he relents and obeys. After the miraculous catch of fish, St. Peter immediately perceives the hand of God at work and exclaims: “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”

In other words, outside observers that day may have thought, “Wow, what a lucky catch of fish!” But St. Peter thought, “Wow, what a demonstration of divine providence,” and committed his life to trusting that providential love. For people of faith, luck is really love: God’s love guiding our lives.

You probably know the rough contours of the story of St. Patrick. You better know it because you attend a church originally named St. Patrick’s. But as a young boy he grew up in England and was captured by Irish pirates and sold into slavery in Ireland. He lived there for 6 years as an animal herder. He escaped and returned to England to become a priest, but then returned to preach and teach in Ireland.

That is, Patrick saw his escape from Ireland not as something extremely lucky, but something extremely providential; a sign from God that he had been put in Ireland for a purpose, namely, evangelization. Patrick, like Peter, did not interpret lucky coincidences as their superpower but rather the unfolding of history as an expression of God’s superpower called providence, guiding the course of events. Hence, they trusted that loving providence entirely, and built their lives upon it as a foundation.

Let me share a final anecdote about luck that really turns out to be love. The history book about our parish is called “From the Foundation Up”. There we find the story – maybe legend – of how our parish went from being called “St. Patrick’s” to “Immaculate Conception.” Have you ever wondered how that happened? In the 1860’s, Fr. Lawrence Symth traveled to Rome and had the occasion to meet the pope, the very intimidating Pope Pius IX.

In Italian his name translated as “Pio Nono” and that was appropriate because he always said, “Not only “no” but heck no!” Fr. Smyth stood very nervously in line as the successor of St. Peter made his way down the receiving line. When he came face-to-face with Pio Nono, the pope asked him, “What is the name of your parish, my son?”

And my poor predecessor was so scared he drew a blank, and couldn’t remember the name of his own parish. After a very awkward silence, Fr. Smyth blurted out, “Uh, it is the Church of the Immaculate Conception, Your Holiness.” That reply was actually a very astute diplomatic answer. Why?

Because back in 1854, Pius IX had declared the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, that Mother Mary was immaculately conceived – without sin – in the womb of her mother, St. Anne. And I am sure Fr. Smyth’s parish in the 1860’s must have been one of the first to bear that name (pun intended). And just maybe for once Pio Nono actually said, “Yes, yes…” as he walked away from Fr. Smyth.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

The Morphine Guy

Appreciating our priests but loving our Lord

03/16/2025

Luke 9:28b-36 Jesus took Peter, John, and James and went up the mountain to pray. While he was praying his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white. And behold, two men were conversing with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem. Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. As they were about to part from him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good that we are here; let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” But he did not know what he was saying. While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” After the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. They fell silent and did not at that time tell anyone what they had seen.

This past week I was in Little Rock for our Spring Continuing Education for clergy. The conferences were educational and useful, but the best part of the 3 days was the company of brother priests who truly love Jesus and “all a ya’ll”, his people. Invariably, the visiting speakers comment on the warm fraternity and strong unity of the priests who comprise the Arkansas presbyterate.

One way we demonstrate our brotherhood is being able to laugh at each other good-naturedly. For example, one priest shared the story about visiting a dying patient in the hospital and overhearing the doctor prescribe 5 doses of morphine. The priest had an alarmed look on his face, so the doctor took him aside to explain.

The doctor said, “Just in confidence, the patient is a heroine addict, and it takes 5 doses to counteract the drugs in her system. Don’t worry, I am not trying to kill her.” But after this priest related that story, we all started calling this particular priest “the morphine guy.” And the speakers picked up on that, and started calling him that too. And he loved the jovial ribbing.

Our first reading today is from Genesis 15 and it always reminds me of my own liturgical faux pas many years ago while studying canon law. A group of priests and I were celebrating Mass. I volunteered to read the Genesis reading because there were no lay people. It was an older translation which had, instead of “a smoking fire pot” the words “a smoking brazier.”

Well, I accidentally said, “a smoking brassiere.” After all, I’m just a poor priest from India, who can’t pronounce these hard words. Needless to say no one could pay attention to the rest of the Mass. And they dubbed me “the brassier boy.” Ever since then one of my favorite proverbs is: “Keep your mouth shut and let people think you’re a fool then open your mouth and remove all doubt.”

Another example of this humorous humility of the clergy occurred in the era of Napoleon Bonaparte. The brash French emperor once taunted Cardinal Consalvi, “Your Eminence, are you not aware that I have the power to destroy the Catholic Church?” To which the unperturbed cardinal answered calmly: “Your Majesty, we, the Catholic clergy have done our best to destroy the Church for 1800 years. We have not succeeded, and neither will you.”

Maybe this is the reason Venerable Fulton Sheen titled his autobiography, “Treasure in Clay.” Even though Archbishop Fulton Sheen had the most popular television show in the 1950’s – and good reason to have a big head – he still knew the true Treasure he carried was Jesus Christ, and he was merely the earthen vessel. Sheen could laugh at himself.

The gospel of Luke today presents the Transfiguration of Jesus, and the three apostles Peter, James, and John are given a glimpse of his divine glory. And like “the morphine guy” and “the brassiere boy,” St. Peter also puts his foot in his mouth by suggesting building 3 tents for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah.

Notice that Luke notes: “But he did not know what he was saying.” And maybe Peter’s comment elicited hearty laughter from James and John, his brother priests. They were probably thinking: “Peter, keep your mouth shut and let people think you’re a fool than open your mouth and remove all doubt.”

But ironically – and here’s the main point – Peter’s blurted suggestion actually served to highlight Jesus’ glory. How so? Well, it makes it plain as day that Jesus’ Church will stand on his grace alone, and not on the holiness or the wisdom of his priests. Just like the moon and stars shine brightest in the dead of night.

St. Thomas Aquinas said the best way to know God was the via negativa, the negative way. We know God by seeing how unlike he is to us. We are mortal, but God is immortal; we know little, but God is omniscient (all-knowing); we are weak, but God is omnipotent (all-powerful), etc. In other words, the earthen vessels serve to highlight how precious the divine Treasure (Jesus) truly is.

And in this way, the Transfiguration holds a special lesson for our Lenten journey. That is, we witness how holy Jesus precisely by catching how human his priests are. Jesus alone is our Treasure while the priests are but earthen vessels, his instruments of grace.

Of course, Catholics love their priests but should always be careful not to put priests on a pedestal. Why not? Because we quickly tumble off. That is, we put on our black pants one leg at a time, just like everyone else. In other words, Lent is all about not clinging too closely to things (or even people, or even priests) and clinging ever more tightly to Christ.

Archbishop Fulton Sheen remarked in his humble autobiography, “If Jesus can ride triumphantly into Jerusalem seated on the back of a donkey, then he can use human priests to ride into your life as well.” Sheen used a stronger word than “donkey.” This Lent, learn to love the Treasure (Jesus), and laugh at the clay, “the morphine guy,” and the “brassiere boy.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Gay Pride Pilgrimage

Gay Pride Pilgrimage

03/11/2025

Matthew 25:31-46 Jesus said to his disciples: "When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his  right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.' Then the righteous will answer him and say, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?' And the king will say to them in reply, 'Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.'

A notable feature of older Catholic cultures conspicuously absent in modern American society is the pilgrimage. Of course we have parades: like on Thanksgiving Day, or when a team wins the Superbowl or even gay pride parades, to celebrate secular values. But we Americans do not have the habit of making pilgrimages, that is, forming a group of people who walk, pray, and sing from one place and usually their destination is a church or religious shrine.

This contrast, or better clash, of cultures becomes evident, even comical, every year when we do our Guadalupe pilgrimage. We walk from Fort Smith Park, close to the Midland bridge to Van Buren, to I.C. Church, about 5 miles distance. Usually the pilgrimage group consists of 200 to 300 participants.

We walk while praying the rosary, singing hymns using loud speakers, and even a booming drum providing a pounding rhythm for Aztec dancers. People stand in doorways and small children gape in wide-eyed amazement maybe even shock at the spectacle, not sure what to make of it.

Most people probably think it is a protest of immigration laws. The truth is, surprisingly, a pilgrimage is actually in support of immigration laws, that is, we pray for merciful laws to emigrate from this world to what Hamlet called “the undiscovered country”, namely, heaven, our true homeland, and (literally) our Fatherland, where God our Father lives and reigns.

In other words, the underlying purpose and point of a pilgrimage is to recognize we are all immigrants in a foreign land, as Heb 11:13 puts it, “strangers and sojourners.” But when, by contrast, a culture or country cannot conceive of producing a pilgrimage (and only has parades) it begins to think we don’t need to journey anywhere else. Why?

Because we are already home. We have created heaven on earth. Hamlet’s “undiscovered country” is simply my backyard, the wide horizon of the untamed West. And so we have parades rather than pilgrimages to celebrate our blessings instead of looking forward to the next life. Maybe that is why we can have a gay pride parade, but you never heard of a gay pride pilgrimage.

In fact, every time we fill out the city permit to have a pilgrimage, do you know what form we fill out? It is called “a parade permit.” But for Christians parades are for Paradise, pilgrimages are for earth, where we are all immigrants, strangers and sojourners in a foreign land. Or are we?

In this morning’s gospel we hear the third section of Matthew 25, one of my favorite chapters of the first gospel. The first section vv 1-13 is the parable of the wise and foolish virgins. The second section vv. 14-30 describes the parable of the talents. And the third part vv 31-46 is the judgment of the nations.

And in a sense all three sections and parables are reminders that earthly life is a pilgrimage on our way to “the undiscovered country” of heaven. In other words, they are about what happens when we get to the end of our earthly sojourn. Life, in other words, is a pilgrimage, not a parade.

By the way, have you noticed how we Catholics undertake a mini-pilgrimage every time we come to Mass? The older design of churches featured a long nave that begins with the baptismal font at the doors (symbolizing birth), proceeds up the central aisle (the journey of life) to the altar (symbol of sacrifice and death), and finally to the tabernacle, surely symbolizing where Jesus resides and reigns in heaven.

Indeed, as dear Ed Winkleman often reminds me, this mini-morning pilgrimage actually begins at each of your homes when you get out of bed and drive your cars to church, to Mass, to heaven. Every celebration of the Eucharist is an unconscious reenactment of a pilgrimage, a liturgical reminder that we are all in favor of merciful immigration laws. Why? Because we are all immigrants hoping to move to a better country. Or are we?

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Nice Guys Finish First

Understanding how to run the right race

03/08/2025

Luke 5:27-32 Jesus saw a tax collector named Levi sitting at the customs post. He said to him, "Follow me." And leaving everything behind, he got up and followed him. Then Levi gave a great banquet for him in his house, and a large crowd of tax collectors and others were at table with them. The Pharisees and their scribes complained to his disciples, saying, "Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?" Jesus said to them in reply, "Those who are healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do. I have not come to call the righteous to repentance but sinners."

Last night I attended the youth-led Stations of the Cross, and I was very impressed. Some students spoke the stations while others acted out the scenes and steps of our Lord’s passion and death. At one station, Dc. Charlie said something that hit me squarely between the eyes. He said, “People say that nice guys finish last, but I guess that depends on which race you are running.”

I took those words to mean this: if you’re running the rat race, nice guys do indeed finish last. But if you’re running the right race, nice guys always finish first. John Maxwell, a leadership expert, once said: “You don’t want to get to the top of the ladder of success just to find out it is leaning against the wrong wall.” That is, in life run the right race, and climb the right ladder.

In the gospel today, we hear the stunning story of the conversion of Levi the tax-collector. We know Levi is the Hebrew name for Matthew (the Latin name) for the evangelist who wrote the first gospel. And the reason his conversion from tax-collector to teacher of truth is so stunning is because Jesus simply utters two words, “Follow me,” and Levi immediately drops everything.

In other words, Jesus showed Levi/Matthew he was running the wrong race, and climbing the wrong ladder. Levi didn’t mind finishing last in the rat race – making lots of money – because he discovered it was the wrong race. Let me give you a couple of examples of how we, too, like Levi, might be running the wrong race, or the rat race, and fear finishing last.

I saw a post on Facebook attributed to Pope Francis, which was falsely said to come from him, but it still made a good point. The quote has a smiling Francis and begins, “Eat whatever you want for Lent. The sacrifice is not in the stomach but in the heart.” The supposed papal mandate continued: “They refrain from eating meat, but don’t talk to their siblings or relatives, don’t visit their parents or bother to attend to them.”

Now, the pope never said that, but it was shared over 700 times on social media. But regardless of social media scams, wise Catholics know the purpose of bodily sacrifice, like abstaining from meat or fasting from food, is so we strengthen our wills to do good, like loving our neighbor. I say “No” to greed so I can say “Yes” to generosity.

By the way, I watched with wide-eyed amazement the desire – no, the obsession – of Catholics to get their ashes on Ash Wednesday. But I wondered where are those same Catholics on Sunday to receive the Eucharist? They would rather have a smudge of ashes than the Savior Almighty. That is called running the wrong rat race, and those Catholics will one day discover, let’s hope very soon like Levi, the ladder they are climbing is leaning against the wrong wall.

A second example of running the wrong rat race is what I am sharing in my Lenten Theology of the Body talks. Last Monday I gave the first presentation and I will provide four more on Mondays at 6 p.m. If you miss any of the presentations, don’t worry, we are also recording them and making them available on Facebook, where you can now find the first presentation.

It is difficult to summarize the whole Theology of the Body of Pope St. John Paul II even in five presentations. But one way to put it in a nutshell might be to say that many married couples (perhaps most) approach marriage in effect like running the wrong rat race. Of course, we are called to love our human spouse “for better or worse, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, until death do us part.”

And that is true to a point, but it is also in a sense the wrong rat race. What does that mean? Well, the underlying purpose and goal of marriage to a human spouse on earth is to help us get ready for our eternal marriage to our divine Spouse, Jesus in heaven. That is why you can marry again after your human spouse dies. That is, keep practicing!

Obviously, it is  heart-breaking when you have marriage problems, or even divorce. But don’t freak-out. Earthly marriage is just a life-long marriage preparation program to prepare to marry Jesus. Human marriage is what Pope St. John Paul II calls a “pedagogy” a teaching, a formation program. And so the real race is falling is love with Jesus and finally marrying him in heaven. And in that race, nice guys finish first.

Praised be Jesus Christ!

Game Plan for Lent

Executing Jesus’ teachings for Lent and life

03/05/2025

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18 Jesus said to his disciples: "Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father. When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win the praise of others. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, so that your almsgiving may be secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.

If you are the coach of a Division I college basketball program, you better have a game plan before your team gets on the court. Last week I had the funeral of Melanie Donaubauer, and the legendary Coach Nolan Richardson was here at Immaculate Conception for the funeral.

He is close friends with the Donaubauer family. Coach Richardson’s game plan for his team was simple, it was called “40 minutes of hell.” And it worked because the Arkansas Razorbacks won the national championship in 1994. When Coach Mike Anderson succeeded Coach Richardson, people asked him what his game plan was for the basketball Hogs.

He jokingly replied: “Coach Richardson had 40 minutes of hell. Now, our game plan is 20 minutes of hell and 20 minutes of I don’t know what the hell we’re doing.” It’s okay to say “hell” if you are a priest and in church. If you want to be able to say “hell” you should become a priest too.

In the gospel today, Jesus gives his disciples his game plan for Lent, which is really the best game plan for life. Jesus, the greatest coach who ever lived, taught his team a three-step game plan. First, almsgiving, which is helping the poor. Second prayer, especially praying in private, even in secret.

And third, fasting, which involves not eating as much and not looking like you’re fasting; you should look pretty. By the way, this year I am sending my almsgiving donation to Catholic Charities of Arkansas. Why? Well, because they lost their funding from the federal government to help migrants and for refugee resettlement.

Every year people ask me, “Fr. John what should I do for Lent this year?” My answer is always the same: “What did Jesus give us as our game plan for Lent and for life?” So, this Lent do three things: (1) find a way to help the poor, (2) take extra time for personal prayer, and (3) practice fasting from food and drink.

My friends, almsgiving, prayer, and fasting is our Christian game-plan for Lent and for life. It will not help you win a national championship in basketball, but it will help you win “an imperishable crown” (1 Cor 9:25) in heaven. Put differently, Jesus’ game plan is not about how to “give ‘em hell,” but about how to "stay out of hell.”

Praised be Jesus Christ!