Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time - June 21, 2009

Feast of Corpus Christi - June 14, 2009

Trinity Sunday - June 7, 2009

Feast of Pentecost - May 31, 2009

Feast of the Ascension - May 24, 2009

Sixth Sunday of Easter - May 17, 2009

Fifth Sunday of Easter - May 10, 2009

Fourth Sunday of Easter - May 3, 2009

Third Sunday of Easter - April 26, 2009

Second Sunday of Easter - April 19, 2009

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time - June 21, 2009

The boat was filling with water, and they were certain they were about to drown. Yet when they wake him, Jesus asks, “Why are you terrified?” Fr. Ron Rolheiser writes the following about faith and trust:

“Most of the time we find it hard to trust because we find ourselves wounded, lacking confidence, anxious about many things, feeling the need to protect ourselves. It is hard to trust and especially it is hard to show weakness and to be vulnerable. In the air we breathe everywhere (sometimes even in our most intimate relationships) we inhale a distrust that makes us want to show a superior strength, attractiveness, talent, intelligence, self-reliance, and cool detachment. Distrust and self- protection are everywhere. It’s hard to let ourselves be vulnerable, to trust that it is safe to love.

“And yet, deep down, vulnerability and surrender are what we most deeply want. At every level, we need and want surrender. Morally and religiously, the entire gospels can be put into one word: Surrender. Emotionally, psychologically, and sexually the deepest imperative inside of us is simply: Surrender. And, deeper than all of our anxieties and our need to protect ourselves, lies a truth we know at the core of our being, namely, that in the end we cannot take care of ourselves, we cannot make ourselves whole, and we cannot hide our weaknesses from each other. We need to surrender, to trust, to let ourselves fall into stronger and safer hands than our own.

“But in order to do this we need to trust, trust that it is safe to love, to let go, to reveal whom we really are, to show weakness, to not have to pretend that we are whole and self-reliant. This, as we know, is not easy to do.”

He goes on to say that this movement toward trust in God is a life-long journey, with much jockeying back and forth as we surrender and then try to take it back. Even if on any given day, we are not as trusting as we would like, and even if we nowhere near real surrender, we must not give up the journey.

The very desire and willingness to trust is the first step on that journey. The disciples in the boat did not do so well either. But they didn’t abandon Jesus when they reached the shore.

The disciples had asked Jesus, “Don’t you care?” Especially in those times when we wonder if God really cares, we must be willing to surrender, “to let ourselves fall into stronger and safer hands than our own”.

↑

Corpus Christi - June 14, 2009

For the Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, I offer these words from the Liturgy of the Eucharist: “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” These words are part of the immediate preparation for receiving the Eucharist. They have much to say about the action we are preparing to perform.

The first part seems to be primarily about us, but it is first about God. The simple fact that we address the prayer to one whom we call “Lord” says that God is Master, he is God, he is the one with all power and glory, he is the one who is the source of our salvation. Only after affirming this truth about God, in that one simple title, do we go on to say something about ourselves.

Following the naming of God, we admit our unworthiness before this most holy sacrament. This unworthiness is not something that is passing, temporary or fleeting. The unworthiness of which we speak here is not due to some sin of ours or some shortcoming (no matter how plentiful those may be). It is rather an unworthiness that flows simply from being creature before the Creator. It is also recognition of the greatness and splendor of the gift we are preparing to receive. Worthy sometimes is taken to mean “entitled to”, and the Eucharist is never something we can claim as our right. It is always and everywhere precious gift, freely given by the Giver of all good gifts.

We also say that we receive this gift. We do not take it. Whether we receive on the tongue or in the hand, there is a fundamental humility at work here. The Eucharist is always ministered one to another. We do not pass the plate around, or leave it on the buffet to be picked up at one’s leisure. The fact of being given Eucharist by another marks us as one who receives.

The prayer goes on to speak of ourselves as in need of healing. We are wounded, wounded by our sin and wounded too often by the tumult of life. As we stand before the one who is the Lord of life and health and wholeness, we admit our need to be made whole and healed by the fact of asking for that gift.

In that request for healing we say something essential again about God. He is our healer. Why ask him for healing if he is not the one capable of healing? He is the one who speaks a word of healing in our midst.

Such is our immediate preparation to receive the very Body and Blood of Christ. I am grateful.

↑

Trinity Sunday - June 7, 2009

“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” These words, taken from St. Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, form one of the greetings to be used at the beginning of Mass. It is the greeting I consciously use most often, precisely because it is so Trinitarian. It reminds us right from the beginning not only that we are gathered for prayer, but also the shape and form which our prayer takes. For the prayer of the church in the Eucharist is explicitly Trinitarian.

Think about it. Almost all the prayers of the liturgy are addressed to the Father. Rarely do we address prayers to Jesus or the Spirit. Yet those prayers to the Father remain Trinitarian. For example, the Opening Prayer of the Mass is addressed to the Father. Consider the normal conclusion: “we ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit . . .”. Or consider the conclusion to the Eucharistic Prayer. Following an explicit reference to Christ, we pray, “Through him [Jesus], with him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Father . . .” . To the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit is the model of our prayer. (This is why for example, we do not have prayers to the saints or the Hail Mary as part of the Mass.)

This is because our faith is fundamentally Trinitarian. The doctrine of the Trinity is one of the most fundamental truths which God has revealed to us. Because of this, St. Athanasius could write, “Accordingly, in the Church, one God is preached, one God who is above all things and through all things and in all things. God is above all things as Father, for he is principle and source. He is through all things through the Word; and he is in all things in the Holy Spirit.”

As the Church celebrates one God in three persons on this Trinity Sunday, it is also important to remember that we deal here with the very mystery of God. This means that everything we are saying about Trinity is true. At the same time, everything we say also falls short of capturing the fullness of this truth about God. We deal here with a mystery of faith that we affirm as true even as we confess our lack of understanding. How anything can be both one and three at the same time is unique to God, different from our experience of the world, and believed by us through the power of God’s grace.

So as we ponder the mystery of the Trinity, let us remember: This Trinity, this God, is love.

↑

Pentecost - May 31, 2009

Pentecost. The conclusion of the Easter season. For nigh on to two months now we have been celebrating Easter. Such a great event cannot be limited to just one Sunday. It’s so momentous that it is fitting to focus on that event, and the faith flowing from that event, for weeks on end. While every Sunday is a “little Easter”, a celebration of the Lord’s resurrection, these Easter days focus our attention on that victory over death, and the consequences for the Church.

Pentecost. The birthday of the Church, some say. A group of believers, huddled in fear in an upper room, are overwhelmed by the awesome experience described as mighty wind and tongues of fire. Immediately they go out and begin to perform extraordinary deeds, like proclaiming Jesus Christ crucified, and risen from the dead. People actually believe them.

Pentecost. Are these extraordinary events the only results of the gift of the Holy Spirit? Or can we identify other ways in which the Spirit of God is made manifest in our lives? Our second reading this weekend, from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians states that “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Holy Spirit”. Simply put, the very fact that we have faith is a result of the Spirit having been given to us. Because faith is always gift (gratefully received and nurtured), we cannot even believe in Christ the Lord other than through the grace of God.

Pentecost. One commentator, Fr. John Foley, S. J., has this to say: “Whenever we find patches of charity or joy in ourselves, or patience and kindness, or the ability to endure hardship and injuries; when we are tempted toward mildness and modesty, then we can be sure that the Holy Spirit is at work within us.” I would add, when we are attentive to the needs of the other, putting aside the desires of the self, the Spirit is at work. When we move toward at least a desire to forgive, rather than to seek vengeance or nurse resentment, the Spirit is a work. When we find in our hearts a desire for God, when we are moved to pray, when we feel gratitude for God’s goodness and kindness and mercy, we can be sure that the Holy Spirit is at work within us.

How does this differ from the grace of God, or the love of Jesus? It doesn’t. The Holy Spirit is God. And as we well know, the problem is never that God is absent, but rather that we have closed our hearts to him.

Pentecost. An opportunity to turn back to God, perhaps in a new and more fervent way.

↑

Feast of the Ascension - May 24, 2009

Joe had some bills to pay, you see. There were hospital bills, and some school tuition, and there just wasn’t enough money coming in to meet all those obligations. So Joe robbed a bank. And he claimed it was ok. When questioned about his justification, he said, “It worked.” I got the money. It worked.

Fred needed to get to his job. And his old car had broken down. Transmission repairs are expensive, and there was no bus service, and all four of the friends he called said they couldn’t give him a ride. The only way he could get to work, and keep his job, and feed his kids was to steal the neighbor’s car. And he claimed it was ok. He said, “It worked”. And that made it ok.

There’s nothing wrong with paying one’s bills. Nor is there anything wrong with getting to work and feeding the kids. Yet somehow most of us would flinch at the idea of robbing a bank or stealing a car to achieve those lofty goals. There’s something, some ethical, moral streak that recognizes that the end doesn’t justify the means. Just because we’re trying to achieve a good end doesn’t mean we can choose illegal and immoral means to reach that goal.

Likewise keeping our country safe is a worthy goal. That’s the end. What if one thinks that that the only way to achieve that end is to resort to torture? Is that ok?

This is the claim being made by former vice-president Dick Cheney. As condemnations are finally being voiced about the moral bankruptcy of becoming a country that condones torture, Cheney’s justification is, “It worked”. It’s a claim that the end justifies the means.

Something similar is going on with research into using embryonic stem cells to attempt to cure disease. Curing diseases like Parkinson’s and juvenile diabetes are worthy ends. On the other hand, embryos are human beings, albeit quite early in their development. Researchers who are killing these embryos for their stem cells are trying to cure these diseases. They say, “It might work”, that the end (curing the disease, maybe) justifies the means (killing human embryos).

Both are grievous offenses against human dignity. Both torture and embryonic stem cell research are examples of a flawed moral reasoning, quite common in our society. Good ends do not justify evil means.

↑

Sixth Sunday of Easter - May 17, 2009

Browsing around the other day, looking for something, I ran across this little tidbit from the Introduction to our Lectionary, the book containing the Scripture readings we use for Mass:

“The Church is nourished spiritually at the twofold table of God's word and of the Eucharist: from the one it grows in wisdom and from the other in holiness. In the word of God the divine covenant is announced; in the Eucharist the new and everlasting covenant is renewed. On the one hand the history of salvation is brought to mind by means of human sounds; on the other it is made manifest in the sacramental signs of the Liturgy.

“It can never be forgotten, therefore, that the divine word read and proclaimed by the Church in the Liturgy has as its one purpose the sacrifice of the New Covenant and the banquet of grace, that is, the Eucharist. The celebration of Mass in which the word is heard and the Eucharist is offered and received forms but one single act of divine worship. That act offers the sacrifice of praise to God and makes available to God's creatures the fullness of redemption.”

During these days of the Easter season, we’ve been hearing regularly the speeches preserved for us in the Acts of the Apostles. These speeches remind us of the very core of the Gospel message: Jesus, the Christ, crucified and risen from the dead. The passage above reminds us of the essential role that the Word of God plays in our lives, particularly in and through our celebration of the Eucharist.

The Mass remains “one single act of divine worship”, with two essential parts, the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. The image we are offered is the “twofold table of God’s Word and of the Eucharist”. At these two tables, we are nourished and fed, for Christ is equally present both in the Word and in the Eucharistic elements, though in unique ways for each.

Sometimes I like to think of the Liturgy of the Eucharist as something of a response to the Liturgy of the Word. Having heard Christ speak to our hearts, enlivening faith, what else could we do but what he instructed us to do: having bread and wine before us, we take and bless and break and share. What more appropriate response could we make to God speaking in our midst?

The power of the Word is beyond our understanding. As we listen to that Word proclaimed in the earliest days of the Church, we marvel at what was brought about. The Church grew and developed, and from the seed of a few grew into a world-spanning fellowship of faith, disciples walking in the example of Christ.

↑

Fifth Sunday of Easter - May 10, 2009

I’m sure we’ve all been watching with great interest the responses to the outbreak of flu strain H1N1. Sometimes the precautions seemed right on to some, and over or under done to others. In our own community, those involved with the schools that were closed were probably the most inconvenienced, especially parents with children in those schools as they scrambled to make other arrangements so they could go to work. Hospitals and other medical providers also were diligent, making sure they were prepared for whatever came, as long meetings and policy perusals were the order of the day.

It’s affected the way we celebrate Mass, with the omission of Communion from the cup, avoiding unnecessary handshakes, and requesting that people receive Communion only in the hand. We have long been using the alcohol based sanitizers for our communion ministers, so that really took no effort from us. Is it an over-reaction? If so, it’s a prudent one.

I suspect that for many of us, this episode has served to remind us about basic good hygiene. Nothing is as good a disease precaution as simply washing hands. Avoiding touching of one’s eyes and mouth is good, the alcohol sanitizers are effective (though one can easily go overboard with those), and the need to cover coughs and sneezes and properly dispose of tissues is a given. We’ve also been reminded that staying away from Mass when one is ill is not a sin. Quite to the contrary, to put others at risk by attending Mass when one has an infectious disease is itself a failure in charity. It’s probably also good to remember that each of us encounters bunches of creepy crawly critters (aka bacteria and viruses) every day, and that it is basically our immune system that keeps us well.

The other observation that I would make is how this episode reminded us of how small our world is. Because travel is so quick, pervasive and constant, it was recognized almost immediately that it would be impossible to limit this outbreak to one particular country. We live and work and breathe in community. We benefit tremendously from the contacts among and between nations and continents. And as we’ve learned, there’s a downside to that as well.

More locally, we are constantly affected by the actions of those around us. As much as our society prizes individuality and uniqueness, we are all part of greater whole. And we need each other, sick or well.

↑

Fourth Sunday of Easter - May 3, 2009

The bloom has gone off the lily. Literally. The Easter lilies that so graciously adorned our church just a few weeks ago have run their course. Only the green of the plant is left behind, and these have been taken to be planted here and there, in the hope that they will come back next year.

But not all has slipped away from that Easter day. The Paschal Candle continues to burn brightly in our midst. And the waters of our Baptism still remind us of the sacrament that unites us to the death and rising of Jesus Christ. The Scriptures that we hear proclaimed, especially from Acts, remind us of the core of the Gospel message, the good news that Jesus has risen from the dead.

But soon we will be in May, with Mother’s Day and graduations and all the other stuff that usually accompanies the end of the school year and the close of spring. Easter continues through the last Sunday of May this year, concluding as always with the celebration of Pentecost. How do we cling to that Easter joy?

Well, if you’re expecting a clear and concise answer, I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint. The busy-ness of life and the ups and downs of daily living often leave us feeling anything but joyful. Or perhaps our joy from Easter is just a dim memory, or a flickering flame, or the hint of aroma left over from something that has moved on.

Maybe that’s why we come back to Church Sunday after Sunday after Sunday. Maybe it’s simply to be reminded. We need that reminder of who Christ is (the Risen Lord), we need that reminder of who we are (an Easter people), we need that reminder of the hope we all share (everlasting life).

At each of our Church doors is a small container of holy water. Upon entering, we bless ourselves with that water, reminding ourselves of our baptism. It should not escape notice that we bless ourselves with the sign of the cross, recalling that great outpouring of God’s love in Christ. By remembering that sacrament, we recall that we are members of Christ’s Body, members of the Christ who lives and reigns forever. This is who we are, no matter what the season of the year or the emotions of our hearts. Nothing can change that.

And we have much to celebrate and much in which to rejoice. The Christ who rose from the dead is alive in our midst. The one who died and rose, dies no more. He is risen and lives forever. And he desires to share his life with us. We need to remember that, Easter lilies or no Easter lilies. Alleluia!

↑

Third Sunday of Easter - April 26, 2009
Another tidbit from the Holy Father’s Easter messages:

“During this liturgical season there are truly many biblical references and stimulations to meditation that are offered to us to delve into the meaning and value of Easter. The "Via Crucis" [Way of the Cross], that in the Holy Triduum we traveled again with Jesus to Calvary reliving the sorrowful passion, becomes the consoling "Via Lucis" [Way of Light] in the solemn Easter Vigil. Seen from the perspective of the resurrection, we can say that this whole way of suffering is the road of light and spiritual rebirth, of interior peace and solid hope.

After the weeping, after being lost on Good Friday, followed by the silence of Holy Saturday, charged with expectation, to the dawn of "the first day after the Sabbath" there resounded the proclamation of the life that has defeated death: "Dux vitae mortuus / regnat vivus!" -- "The Lord of life was dead / but now, living, he triumphs!" The unsettling novelty of the resurrection is so important that the Church does not cease to proclaim it, prolonging the recollection especially every Sunday: every Sunday, in fact, is "the Lord's day" and the weekly Easter of the people of God. Our Eastern brothers, highlighting this mystery of salvation that invests our daily Christian life, in the Russian language, call Sunday "Resurrection day" (voskrescénje).

“Thus it is fundamental to our Christian faith and witness to proclaim the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth as a real historical event testified to by many authoritative witnesses. We strongly affirm this because, even in our times, there is no lack of those who deny its historicity, reducing the Gospel account to a myth, to a "vision" of the Apostles, taking up again and presenting old worn-out theories as new and scientific. Certainly for Jesus the resurrection was not a mere return to the former life. In this case, in fact, it would be a thing of the past: 2,000 years ago someone rose from the dead, returned to his old life, just as Lazarus did, for example. The resurrection is oriented in another direction; it is the passage to a dimension of life that is profoundly new, that also implicates us, that involves the whole of the human family, of history and of the universe.

“This year too, at Easter there resounds unchanged and always new, in every corner of the earth, this good news: Jesus, who has died on the cross and been resurrected, lives in glory because he has defeated the power of death, he has brought human beings into a new communion of life with and in God. This is the victory of Easter, our salvation!”

↑

Second Sunday of Easter - April 19, 2009

For today, an excerpt from the Holy Father’s Easter message:

“Indeed, one of the questions that most preoccupies men and women is this: what is there after death? To this mystery today’s solemnity allows us to respond that death does not have the last word, because Life will be victorious at the end. This certainty of ours is based not on simple human reasoning, but on a historical fact of faith: Jesus Christ, crucified and buried, is risen with his glorified body. Jesus is risen so that we too, believing in him, may have eternal life. This proclamation is at the heart of the Gospel message. As Saint Paul vigorously declares: "If Christ has not been raised, our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain."

 He goes on to say: "If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all men most to be pitied" (1 Cor 15:14,19). Ever since the dawn of Easter a new Spring of hope has filled the world; from that day forward our resurrection has begun, because Easter does not simply signal a moment in history, but the beginning of a new condition: Jesus is risen not because his memory remains alive in the hearts of his disciples, but because he himself lives in us, and in him we can already savour the joy of eternal life.

“The resurrection, then, is not a theory, but a historical reality revealed by the man Jesus Christ by means of his "Passover", his "passage", that has opened a "new way" between heaven and earth (cf. Heb 10:20). It is neither a myth nor a dream, it is not a vision or a utopia, it is not a fairy tale, but it is a singular and unrepeatable event: Jesus of Nazareth, son of Mary, who at dusk on Friday was taken down from the Cross and buried, has victoriously left the tomb. In fact, at dawn on the first day after the Sabbath, Peter and John found the tomb empty. Mary Magdalene and the other women encountered the risen Jesus. On the way to Emmaus the two disciples recognized him at the breaking of the bread. The Risen One appeared to the Apostles that evening in the Upper Room and then to many other disciples in Galilee.

“The resurrection of Christ is our hope! This the Church proclaims today with joy. She announces the hope that is now firm and invincible because God has raised Jesus Christ from the dead. She communicates the hope that she carries in her heart and wishes to share with all people in every place, especially where Christians suffer persecution because of their faith and their commitment to justice and peace. She invokes the hope that can call forth the courage to do good, even when it costs, especially when it costs. “

↑

Easter Sunday - April 12, 2009

It’s about new life, of course. It’s about bunnies and eggs and lilies as well. For some, it’s about a new dress, and it’s certainly about spring. It’s about water and candles and light and darkness. It’s about bread and wine and body and blood. It’s also about nails and wood and whips. It’s about death. And it’s about new life.

It’s also about expectations not met. No, nothing about what God did on that first Easter Sunday falls short of what it should be. Here the expectations not met are exceeded, beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Yes, Jesus had said that on the third day something would happen, but who knew what that meant? The events of that first Easter morning turned the world on its head, flipped the universe around, and upended the cosmos. The one who was dead, most definitely, finally dead, was truly and actually alive.

In that sense, it is about history. We gather on Easter Sunday and remember events that witnesses tell us happened over two thousand years ago. This history is important because our celebration is not based on some pious fantasy but rather is founded on real events, centering around a real person. Jesus did die. Jesus did rise from the dead. This is truth, the truth of the resurrection.

But it’s not only about history. It is also about today. The God and Father who raised Jesus from the dead is still alive and well. And what began on Easter continues. It is about the power of God’s love in the face of darkness and sin, today. It is about Christ’s victory over sin and death, being realized in our lives, today. It’s about believing that this Christ who had left the tomb of his burial is still alive in our midst, today.

It is truly about today. When we celebrate Eucharist, we recall what Jesus did on the night before he died. As on Holy Thursday evening, we recall his gift of his own Body and Blood to us, a gift that is given to us over and over again, today. It is about a sacrifice that took place on that Good Friday, which in the Eucharist is made present again, today. It’s about each and every Sunday being a celebration of Easter, recalling Christ rising from the dead, today.

During all those days of Lent now completed, this is the “today” that we’ve been preparing for. “Christ is risen, alleluia. He is risen indeed, alleluia.” And all the bunnies and eggs and lilies in the world cannot begin to capture the joy of the Church as she celebrates this great Feast. Happy Easter!

↑

Palm/Passion Sunday - April 5, 2009

“This is the night”. These are words taken from the Exultet (the Easter praises), sung at the Easter Vigil. This is the only night in the entire year when these praises are proclaimed. And these words, “this is the night”, are sung not once, not twice, but four times, with four different descriptions of the events that make this night unique. That night is also called simply “holy night”, “night truly blessed” and even “most blessed of all nights”.

Why? Well, from the same Easter hymn, “This is the night when Jesus Christ broke the chains of death, and rose triumphant from the grave”. For this reason, and so much more, this is the holiest night of the year. The celebration of these events is so rich that it cannot even be all done on one day! The Easter Vigil is really the conclusion of an act of worship that begins on Holy Thursday with the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper and continues with the Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion on Good Friday. These three days are the Triduum, the holiest of the year.

Only during these days do we celebrate the actual institution of the Eucharist on Holy Thursday night. Only at that celebration do we do the Washing of the Feet, remembering that Jesus told us to do for one another what he has done for us. Without that example of service, would we really know who Jesus is? Without that gift of Eucharist, would we not be forever hungry, starving for the spiritual nourishment of his Body and Blood?

Only during these days do we venerate the cross – not the body of Christ hung on the cross, but rather the wood of the cross which became the instrument of our salvation. In doing so, we embrace the scandal, the stumbling block of the crucified God, the stricken Savior of the world. In reading his Passion from John on Good Friday, we enter into the complete and total self-giving that was both the life and death of Jesus, the Christ.

Only during these days do we sing the Easter Praises, the Exultet, as we mentioned above. Gathered in darkness we light new fire, and bless new candle, that is for us the Light of Christ. In that Service of Light, we experience the darkness being scattered and broken by the only one who can enlighten the darkness in our lives.

We tell our story on that night, the story of Creation and Exodus and we remember being Baptized into this death and rising of Christ. These are the days of our salvation. “This is the night.”

↑

Fifth Sunday of Lent - March 29, 2009

On March 24th, 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was celebrating Mass in a small chapel in San Salvador. While standing at the altar, holding up the Eucharist, a shot rang out, and his blood flowed out over the alter, as this man of peace was murdered.

Some two months before, Archbishop Romero had written to then president Jimmy Carter, begging him to end the military aid being sent to the government of El Salvador, aid that was being used to slaughter the poor. (The U.S. sent 1.5 million dollars a day in military aid for 12 years). His letter was ignored. This was a war which the U.N. Truth Commission would eventually call "genocidal".

While his voice was raised over and over again on behalf of the poor being slaughtered, his death may have been triggered by a homily given the day before he was assassinated. He addressed the military, saying, "Brothers, you are from the same people; you kill your fellow peasant . . . No soldier is obliged to obey an order that is contrary to the will of God . . . " After that, those in power could not let him live.

In 1977, he preached the following: “Christ founded the church so that he himself could go on being present in the history of humanity precisely through the group of Christians who make up his church. The church is the flesh in which Christ makes present down the ages his own life and his personal mission...

“The church can be church only as long as it goes on being the Body of Christ. Its mission will be authentic only so long as it is the mission of Jesus in the new situations, the new circumstances of history. The criterion that will guide the church will be neither the approval of, nor the fear of, men and women, no matter how powerful or threatening they may be. It is the church's duty in history to lend its voice to Christ so that he may speak, its feet so that he may walk today's world, its hands to build the reign of God, and to offer all its members to make up all that has still to be undergone by Christ. (Col. 1:24).

“Should the church forget this identification with Christ, Christ would himself demand it of the church, no matter how uncomfortable that might be, or how much loss of face that might entail. “(8/6/77)

Perhaps these words of Archbishop Oscar Romero will deepen our upcoming celebration of the Paschal Mystery, of the death and rising of Christ.

↑

Fourth Sunday of Lent - March 22, 2009

Triduum – The Three Days. There is a sense in which the entire season of Lent is aimed at the celebrations that take place on those days. Even after all these years, one of my central experiences of the liturgies of Holy Week dates back to college seminary, at St. Joseph Seminary in Covington (St. Ben). Our annual retreat was held during Holy Week, which gave us the opportunity to celebrate these holiest of days with the monastic community. As a member of the schola there, I was also blessed with the chance to contribute to the music at those special services.

Whatever the reason, the unique and special celebrations of Holy Thursday evening, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil continue to move me unlike any other feasts of the Church year. And I think rightfully so. On those three days, in three moments of worship that flow from one to the other, the Church celebrates the very heart and soul of the mystery of our salvation: the Paschal Mystery.

At the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday, we recall in a special way that last supper Jesus shared with his friends. In doing so, we enter into the event that actually gave us the Eucharist, so that the Church can continue to do this in memory of Him. The solemn, silent prayer following the Mass invites us to pray with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, on the night before he dies.

There is no Mass celebrated anywhere in the world on Good Friday. As a matter of fact, throughout the world, the Eucharist is not celebrated from after Holy Thursday evening until the Easter Vigil. The tabernacle is empty, the altar is stripped, and the Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion begins and ends in silence, marking the death of our Lord.

When we gather on Saturday for the Easter Vigil, we do so in darkness, until the new fire is lit, which scatters the darkness of sin. The new Paschal Candle is lit, Easter Praises are sung, and we hear through the Scriptures the story of our salvation, remembering our Baptism which unites us to Christ’s dying and rising. Finally, on that Saturday night, the Eucharist is again celebrated, rejoicing in the risen Christ.

I have to say that Mass on Easter Sunday morning is truly anti-climactic after all that. Consider this year, making the Holy Week services of the Triduum – Thursday, Friday, and Saturday – the fitting conclusion to your observance of Lent.

Beginning this week, the priests of our Lafayette region will begin offering the Opportunities for Confession that have become a regular part of our area’s observance of Lent.  Through the kind assistance of our Regional Vicar, Msgr. Thomas James, there will be six different evenings when anywhere from 5 to 10 priests will be available to hear confessions. (Details are in the bulletin and in the Lenten mailing you received.)

I know that many people have woven these Lenten (and Advent) events into the practice of their faith.  These evenings become reminder as well as opportunity to avail oneself of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  And there are many who of course go much more often.

And then there are the others.  I’m thinking of those who have fallen prey to the radical individualism that is so common in our society and culture, and that is so alien to the practice of our faith.  I’m thinking of those who state that they do not need to go to confession.  “I just go straight to God”, they say.  In so doing they deny themselves such an opportunity for grace, conversion and healing.

Why is this attitude misguided?  It is mistaken on at least two essential truths, the truth about sin, and the truth about being forgiven.

The idea that sin can be resolved “between me and God” depends on the idea that any sin I commit is a matter with which only I and God are concerned.  The truth about the nature of sin, however, is that sin is always and everywhere an offense not only against God, but also against the community.  There is no sin so private, and so individual, that it does not affect those around me.  Even if there is no direct action or inaction which explicitly harms another, the very fact that I have sinned makes me less than the person God made me to be.  My family and friends and colleagues are affected by my sin.  True reconciliation, therefore, requires that I be reconciled both to God and to the Church.  In representing the Church as well as God in the confessional, the priest in the Sacrament of Reconciliation offers us that opportunity to be fully reconciled.  Even though there may still be amends to be made to individuals, the sacrament addresses the true nature of sin in our lives.

The second truth is simply more human, if you will.  When we truly sin, we often struggle to forgive ourselves, to accept God’s forgiveness.  In the sacrament, we actually hear someone say the words out loud:  “I absolve you”.  “You are forgiven.”  Sometimes we just need to hear those words – spoken by another person.

In a 1966 statement by the U.S. Bishops on Penance and Abstinence, we read:

"If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.... If we say that we have not sinned, we make [God] a liar, and His word is not in us" (1 John 1:8-10).

1. Thus Sacred Scriptures declare our guilt to be universal; hence the universal obligation to that repentance which Peter, in his sermon on Pentecost, declared necessary for the forgiveness of sin (Acts 2:38). Hence, too, the Church's constant recognition that all the faithful are required by divine law to do penance. As from the fact of sin we Christians can claim no exception, so from the obligation to penance we can seek no exemption.

2. Forms and seasons of penance vary from time to time and from people to people. But  the need for conversion and salvation is unchanging, as is the necessity that, confessing our sinfulness, we perform, personally and in community, acts of penance in pledge of our inward penitence and conversion.

3. For these reasons, Christian peoples, members of a Church that is at once holy, penitent, and always in process of renewal, have from the beginning observed seasons and days of penance. They have done so by community penitential observances as well as by personal acts of self-denial; they have imitated the example of the  spotless Son of God Himself, concerning Whom the Sacred Scriptures tell us that He went into the desert to fast and to pray for forty days (Mk 1:13). Thus Christ gave the example  to which Paul appealed in teaching us how we, too, must come to the mature measures of the fullness of Christ (Eph 4:13).

As we read these words, we do so as members of that Church which is “at once holy, penitent and always in process of renewal”.  This means that we as individuals, while both holy and penitent, must be open to the process of renewal to which God’s grace invites us.  This is why Lent is such a special season of opportunity. As a community of faith, we embrace the tools of Lent (prayer, self-denial, charity) and use them to strive for the goal of Lent:  conversion. 

By admitting our need for on-going renewal, we abandon denial of our guilt and sin.  Only by looking honestly at those aspects of our lives in need of transformation can we open the door to God’s healing and transformation.  Lent truly is a season of grace.

The following comes from a sermon on fasting by St. John Chrysostom, a 4^th century Father of the Church:

“Fasting is the change of every part of our life, because the sacrifice of the fast is not the abstinence but the distancing from sins. Therefore, whoever limits the fast to the deprivation of food, he is the one who, in reality, abhors and ridicules the fast.

Are you fasting? Show me your fast with your works. Which works? If you see someone who is poor, show him mercy. If you see an enemy, reconcile with him. If you see a friend who is becoming successful, do not be jealous of him! If you see a beautiful woman on the street, pass her by.

In other words, not only should the mouth fast, but the eyes and the legs and the arms and all the other parts of the body should fast as well. Let the hands fast, remaining clean from stealing and greediness. Let the legs fast, avoiding roads which lead to sinful sights. Let the eyes fast by not fixing themselves on beautiful faces and by not observing the beauty of others. You are not eating meat, are you? You should not eat debauchery with your eyes as well. Let your hearing also fast. The fast of hearing is not to accept bad talk against others and sly defamations. Let the mouth fast from disgraceful and abusive words, because, what gain is there when, on the one hand we avoid eating chicken and fish and, on the other, we chew-up and consume our brothers?”

He goes on at some length in much the same vein.  On one level, it’s an instruction about doing more during Lent than just going through the motions.  But it goes deeper than that, if we recognize that Lent is fundamentally about moving toward a conversion of life that endures.

Normally, we “give up something for Lent”.  So come Easter, we stop giving it up, and life goes back to the way it was before.  This implies that the self-denial is an end in itself, and that we’ve accomplished something worthwhile by denying ourselves this or that for 40 days or so.  While this would be an interesting exercise in some kind of self-discipline, it’s not conversion.

The self-denial of Lent is intended to un-clutter a space in us and in our lives, for God to enter in.  For example, if the self-denial yields hunger, we are reminded of our need for God, who alone can satisfy.

What will we have allowed God to change in us, after Lent 2009 draws to a close?

↑

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time - February 22, 2009

How do you create a desert in the middle of town?  In some ways, that is the challenge of the Lenten season upon which we are about to embark.  Amidst the busy-ness and the noise and the tasks of life, where does one find the space to spend time with Jesus in the desert?

“The Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert, and he remained in the desert for forty days, tempted by Satan.”  With these words Mark’s gospel describes for us the event we recall each Lenten season.  With his usual brevity, Mark does not outline any temptations.  Perhaps that’s a good thing.  While the temptations of Jesus in the desert were real, perhaps his specific temptations our not our specific temptations.  What are the things that tempt me to abandon the desert, to give up on Lent, to just float along with the activities of daily life?

Awareness of the particular attractions in each of our lives that draw us further from God, perhaps we can begin to be led by the Spirit, as Jesus was, taking a different path, going to a different place if you will.  If it was the Spirit which drove Jesus into the desert, perhaps we can ask that same Spirit to drive us into the desert where we can encounter God this Lent.  Traditionally, that Spirit has made use of three tools to lead us.

I would put prayer at the top of that list.  This includes prayer alone and prayer with the community.  Many make a special effort to include daily Mass in their Lenten devotions and I cannot recommend that enough.  At Eucharist, we encounter our own spiritual hunger, and our need to be fed by the hand of God, at the tables of Word and Sacrament.  And our experience of this common prayer will be enriched by the quiet time we spend each day, perhaps entering more deeply into that silence where God can speak to our hearts.

The second tool is of course self-denial.  For many it is food, and the Church asks us to abstain from meat on Fridays and Ash Wednesday.  Make each Friday a real day of penance – consume less, if your health allows.  (Let’s face it, folks, 5 pounds of boiled crawfish is no penance!)  But self-denial can also focus on attitudes, behaviors, habits and reactions.  Perhaps asking God’s help in not being driven by my shortcomings is the self-denial I need.

The third practice is of course charity.  Our Lent cannot remain focused on self.  True spirituality always leads to concern for the other.  That may mean a donation to the needy, or it may mean more patience and understanding for the person next door.  May the Spirit drive us into a fruitful and prayerful Lent.

↑

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time - February 15, 2009

I suppose one of the benefits of living in Louisiana is that it is impossible for Lent to sneak up on us.  King cakes and barricades are sure signs that Lent is approaching, as Mardi Gras ramps up it’s partying and parades.  And we here in Louisiana are also notable in our ability to take a single day (Fat Tuesday), and turn it into a whole season.

But you have to wonder – how many of those celebrating Mardi Gras will be keeping Lent? 

Like all the liturgical seasons of the Church year, Lent has many facets.  For those preparing to enter the Church at Easter, it is the high point of their formation and catechesis.  For all of us, it’s a time of looking forward to Easter, the greatest feast of the Church year.  For many it is a time of heightened attention to their spiritual life, with increased devotion and self-discipline.

But I would say that the key element of a fruitful Lenten season is self-denial.  We recall Jesus’ fast in the desert.  That fact makes the Lenten season an eminently counter-cultural one in this nation of consumers. 

Or at least we were a nation of consumers, but not so much today, and for many not by choice.  We enter the Lenten season of self-denial when many are and will be finding themselves “doing without” or “getting by with less”.  Some will be cutting back by choice, out of a sense of caution.  Others will be practicing self-denial because they’ve been fired from their jobs and they can’t find another one.  (Why do we think words like “cutbacks” or “lay-offs” make the reality of unemployment any less devastating to the person getting the “pink slip”?)

This is not the kind of self-denial we seek, because many will probably be struggling to maintain even the necessities of life.  Lent is not about that kind of “doing without”.    Even though we have not yet felt the brunt of the depression as directly here in Lafayette, many will be suffering.  And it helps little to watch the on-going partisan game-playing in Washington.

All of this brings me to the key question I want to raise in these days leading up to Lent:  To what extent have greed and selfishness brought us to where we are today?  Is our economic system structured with a view toward what it offers to the poorest among us?  Or is it a system crafted to produce ever larger golden parachutes for the privileged few?  Isn’t it the poor who will be most devastated by this situation?

↑

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time - February 8, 2009

Last week in this space, I wrote about the unifying function of posture and gesture in our celebration of the Mass.  About Communion, I wrote:  Another moment when our posture expresses our unity of faith is in the procession to receive Communion.  While this might seem just a practical way to get something done, it takes on real significance when one remembers that the Church is a Pilgrim People --  we are a people on the way, seeking to live The Way, again together.  The Passover in the Old Testament has the Hebrews standing to eat, staff in hand, before setting out on the great journey that is called Exodus.  We are also a people on the move, following Jesus down the road to the cross and to glory.  And again, it is not something we do alone.  The banquet that is Communion is a communal sacrificial meal, and as one former pastor of St. Pat’s was fond of saying, not a “private dinner party with Jesus”.  We always receive Communion with and in the midst of the Church.

I just want to expand on that a bit, because there is a choice that is offered to us in the manner of receiving Communion.  While we all stand to receive, and we all bow before reaching the minister, we may choose to receive either in the hand or on the tongue.  Neither method is in and of itself more reverent than the other (since reverence is a matter of the heart, which gesture and posture only express).  Rather, one is always to receive Communion in a spirit of reverence and awe for the Body and Blood of Christ.

Of the two, receiving in the hand is the more traditional, with receiving on the tongue being a later innovation.  When receiving in the hand, we extend one hand over the other, or as St. Cyril of Jerusalem said around 350 A.D., “placing thy left hand as a throne for thy right, which is to receive so great a King, and in the hollow of the palm receive the body of Christ”.  The gesture is one of receiving, not reaching out to take.  Ideally, one receives the Body in one’s hand, takes a step to the side, and consumes the host immediately.  If one is receiving on the tongue, let us just say that it is important to actually extend one’s tongue.

Because Jesus said both “Take and eat” and “Take and drink”, receiving as well the Precious Blood from the cup is strongly recommended.  While one is not denied the grace of the sacrament by receiving only under one kind, one does miss out on the fullness of the sign and the symbolism that underlies Eucharist.

Having received such a gift, the silent thanksgiving which follows Communion is right and fitting!

↑

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time - February 1, 2009

I know that it’s been a while since Christmas, but this topic has been on my mind since the Feast of the Incarnation.  I’m just getting around to it now.  That is the way in which we use our bodies in worship.  People who are unfamiliar with Catholic worship are often baffled by the kneeling and sitting and bowing that we do, and I suppose it seems a bit strange.  But we don’t leave our bodies behind when we come to Mass.

I think the most significant thing about our sitting and standing is that we do it together.  Alongside our voices raised in song together, as well as our vocal responses to various prayers, we express our unity as a praying congregation by our posture.  When it’s time to begin Mass, we all stand – together.  When it’s time for the proclamation of the Scriptures, we all sit, in order to listen attentively together to the Word of God.  Then, in honor of the special place of the Gospels in our worship, we stand together to hear Jesus speak to our hearts.

Another moment when our posture expresses our unity of faith is in the procession to receive Communion.  While this might seem just a practical way to get something done, it takes on real significance when one remembers that the Church is a Pilgrim People --  we are a people on the way, seeking to live The Way, again together.  The Passover in the Old Testament has the Hebrews standing to eat, staff in hand, before setting out on the great journey that is called Exodus.  We are also a people on the move, following Jesus down the road to the cross and to glory.  And again, it is not something we do alone.  The banquet that is Communion is a communal sacrificial meal, and as one former pastor of St. Pat’s was fond of saying, not a “private dinner party with Jesus”.  We always receive Communion with and in the midst of the Church.

Gestures too are important.  When praying the Creed, we bow together at the words “and became Man”.  Another is that we bow as we are coming up for Communion, preferably before we actually reach the minister.  This is simply a gesture we all make in recognition of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist.  Can I genuflect, or just kneel to receive Communion?  Not really.  These common gestures express our unity as the people of God, a unity Christ himself prayed for.  Trying to use a different gesture or posture just says, “I’m different, I’m special, I’m not one of you”.

Lastly we’ll mention the Sign of the Cross. There is one at the beginning, and one at the end, marking the start and finish of our common worship as a Pilgrim people, a people united in faith and hope and in love.

↑

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - January 25, 2009

There has been much in the news of late, and rightfully so, about the events of the 50’s and 60’s that we call the “civil rights movement”.  Stories of courage and sacrifice are mixed with accounts of violence and hatred, as our nation struggled with a cancer eating away at society’s soul:  racism.  In the broad scope of changes in any society, the 50 or so years since then is but a moment, and we can be grateful at the changes that have taken place.

Yet we must say honestly that the movement is not yet done, no matter who is occupying the White House.  This is true because this kind of movement is not primarily about laws (though that’s important) but about the attitudes of the human heart.  It is in the heart of a person who no longer judges another by the color of their skin that true victory is achieved.  While great strides have been made, those attitudes are still in need of conversion in our society.

For the Church, this always comes back to the issues of human dignity, and the sanctity of life and of the human person.  Our understanding of that dignity is of something that is given, not acquired, that is granted by God rather than established by law or constitutional amendment.  Any law which upholds human dignity and which protects the sanctity of human life merely recognizes the truth about the human person.

Of course, racism is not the only threat to human dignity.  We are particularly aware in these days of the assault on the sanctity of life that is legalized abortion.  And we should not be blind to other related and intimately connected threats like euthanasia, the use of capital punishment, war and violence in the streets, and an economic system that all too often tramples upon the poor.

Just as was true with the civil rights movement, changing of laws is important.  But courts and legislatures are not the true battleground in this fight to uphold the dignity of the human person.  As it is with racism, so it is true that the real victory will be won in the attitudes of the human heart.  Any and every attack on the dignity and sanctity of human life weakens the respect for the sanctity of every other human life.  Pope John Paul II wrote clearly that our witness to life must be profoundly consistent.  The devil is in the exceptions.  As long as any life is seen as not sacred – in the womb, on death row, or in the nursing home – all life is devalued and at risk.  This is what it truly means to “choose life”.

↑

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time - January 18, 2009

You will find information in this week’s bulletin about an upcoming initiative from the U.S. Bishops to mobilize Catholics in speaking against a potential piece of legislation, the “Freedom of Choice Act”.  The very title of the bill embraces the warped rhetoric of the pro-abortion camp, cloaking the evil of abortion with our natural desire for freedom and choice in our lives.  This bill, if passed, would effectively eliminate any and all limitations on abortion in our country.

The idea is not new.  It was first introduced in both House and Senate in 2004, and again in 2007, when it languished in committee.  What has changed is President-elect Obama’s commitment to sign the bill should it be passed by Congress.  This has increased efforts to bring the bill up again and to bring it to a vote on House and Senate floors.

The bill is first of all a frontal assault by the federal government on the rights of the states to legislate on these issues, since it would invalidate many laws passed by the states (including our own) to regulate abortion. For example, any law requiring parental consent for a minor’s abortion would be tossed out.  There is something rather bizarre about a 14 year old needing the consent of her parents to get her ears pierced but not to procure an abortion.

Some states have attempted to assure that sufficient information is given to persons seeking abortion, a fundamental concept called “informed consent” that is required before any surgical procedure.  These laws too would be made null and void. Other ramifications of the bill are a bit unclear, but since it is so radical in its prohibitions, there is some question as to whether it would overturn so-called “conscience clauses” which allow health care institutions (including Catholic hospitals) to refuse to provide abortions.  It is questionable whether Catholic hospitals could remain open in the face of such demands.

For all these reasons and more I ask you to consider being involved in this initiative.  It is consistent with the Catholic Church’s practice of speaking to issues and legislation from a faith-based perspective, while avoiding the endorsement or rejection of particular candidates or parties.  It is an exercise of our fundamental right as Catholics to be involved in the political process.  And it is an attempt to preserve the lives of the most vulnerable among us, the child in the womb.

↑

Baptism of the Lord - January 11, 2009

“You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”  These words from Mark’s gospel are proclaimed at our liturgies this weekend.  They are the words spoken by the voice that came from the heavens.  They are the words that affirm and confirm Jesus as the beloved Son of God.

There had been such confirmations prior to this one.  Over the last few weeks we have been hearing of the signs and wonders described in the various parts of the Christmas story, a story filled with message-bringing dreams and message-announcing angels.  The star itself that led the magi to the epiphany of the Lord spoke its own language, a language of light shining in the darkness, showing the way.

This affirmation of Jesus as the beloved Son of God takes on a unique significance however, if we consider what came before and after these words.  Jesus had just been baptized by John in the Jordan river.  Having heard the message of repentance proclaimed by John, the one who had no need to repent still accepted this baptism, going down into the waters of cleansing and rebirth.  John hesitated, recognizing the one who came to him for baptism, yet Jesus insisted that this baptism was for him, too.  Like us in all things but sin, this Jesus had fully embraced our humanity, from the moment of conception in the womb of the virgin by the power of the Holy Spirit.  The mystery remains however that he did not relinquish his divinity, coming among us as true God and true man.

Following this embrace of humanity, he began his public ministry.  It was after his baptism in the Jordan (and following a time of fasting in the desert) that Jesus began the work for which he had been sent.  He announced the day of the Lord, now at hand, he called to repentance, and he proclaimed the Kingdom of God.  Signs, wonders and miracles accompanied this glorious proclamation.

He also began to call disciples.  And this is where we begin to see how this baptism by John relates to us.  This mission of his was not to be a solitary undertaking.  He called Peter and James and John, and all the others.  They walked with him, they witnessed his message and miracles, they shared the heat of the day and the chill of the night. And when the time came for him to return to the Father, he entrusted his mission to them.  Go out, he said, teach and baptize, as I have taught you, he said.  Follow my example, he said, for you are the baptized, you too are beloved children of God.

↑

Feast of Epiphany - January 4, 2009

What is this thing that people call “the Christmas Spirit”???

From the Pope’s “Urbi et Orbi” address, we read:

“Wherever the dignity and rights of the human person are trampled upon; wherever the selfishness of individuals and groups prevails over the common good; wherever fratricidal hatred and the exploitation of man by man risk being taken for granted; wherever internecine conflicts divide ethnic and social groups and disrupt peaceful coexistence; wherever terrorism continues to strike; wherever the basics needed for survival are lacking; wherever an increasingly uncertain future is regarded with apprehension, even in affluent nations: in each of these places may the Light of Christmas shine forth and encourage all people to do their part in a spirit of authentic solidarity. If people look only to their own interests, our world will certainly fall apart.”

 And from the Pope’s Christmas homily, we hear:

“With these thoughts, we draw near this night to the child of Bethlehem – to the God who for our sake chose to become a child. In every child we see something of the Child of Bethlehem. Every child asks for our love. This night, then, let us think especially of those children who are denied the love of their parents. Let us think of those street children who do not have the blessing of a family home, of those children who are brutally exploited as soldiers and made instruments of violence, instead of messengers of reconciliation and peace. Let us think of those children who are victims of the industry of pornography and every other appalling form of abuse, and thus are traumatized in the depths of their soul. The Child of Bethlehem summons us once again to do everything in our power to put an end to the suffering of these children; to do everything possible to make the light of Bethlehem touch the heart of every man and woman. Only through the conversion of hearts, only through a change in the depths of our hearts can the cause of all this evil be overcome, only thus can the power of the evil one be defeated. Only if people change will the world change; and in order to change, people need the light that comes from God, the light which so unexpectedly entered into our night.”

Might this concern for the poor and oppressed, this concern for the vulnerable among us, especially the children, express the true “Christmas Spirit”?

↑