Jesus Christ is coming to a parish near you this Lent, and He really wants to see us there.
Since the beginning of Lent, I've seen several Penance services scheduled for my diocese advertised in my parish bulletin. Being a rock music fan since childhood, I compared this invitation, St. Matthew, March 29; St. Ann, April 3, to a concert tour and called it “The Merciful Mystical Tour.” However, instead of Jesus Christ Superstar, get ready to encounter God's mercy acting through our local parish priests.
I had an opportunity to attend Mass on Ash Wednesday this year, and when the deacon signed my forehead with ashes his words were: “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel.” That's stayed with me since, and I've made one of my Lenten resolutions to avail myself of all the means the Church provides us to avoid sin and do good.
Earlier this month, I was invited to answer some questions at an eight-grade religious education class at my parish. The first question I answered was “Why do we need to confess our sins to a priest?” I congratulated the young man's courage for formulating a question that I'm sure thousands of church-going Catholics frequently ask themselves. I gave the class the standard Gospel answer. After Jesus resurrected, He breathed the Holy Spirit on the Apostles and said, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained,” (Jn 20:22-23). After I went home that evening though, I thought the answer I should have given them was, “We need to confess our sins to a priest for the same reason we go to Mass to receive the Eucharist consecrated by a priest.” All priests are ordained to be “other Christs” to God's people.
As a seminarian, I attended a newly-ordained priest's first Mass of Thanksgiving. Since he was a good friend of mine, I approached him shortly before the beginning of the ceremony and asked him to hear my confession. He agreed to it, but when it came time to give me absolution, my priest friend couldn't remember the prayer of Absolution and didn't have the formula handy at the time. I told him I knew the prayer by heart because in those days I used to go to Reconciliation weekly. “Repeat after me Father,” I said. “God, the Father of mercies, through the Death and Resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. . .” “Through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins. . .” The Holy Spirit revealed to me then that even though I knew the prayer, it's not only the words said, but who says them. A priest acts in the Person of Christ, and it's Christ working through the priest who forgives sins.
Confession is good for the soul, and I believe the Church in her wisdom recognizes that we may have reservations about confessing our sins to the same man we shake hands with at the end of Sunday Mass. The Merciful Mystical Tour is a perfect opportunity to choose the priest we want to go to reconcile our hearts with to Our Father. Jesus in his priests has many faces; some are young and some are gray. However, it's the same Jesus that says, “Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace.”
Friday, April 8, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
A Man for all Seasons
“Nathan said to David, 'You are the man...'” (2 Sam 12:7)
This was not exactly an exultation of King David's manhood – that's how the prophet Nathan rebuked David in the Old Testament for setting up Uriah the Hittite to be killed in battle. David could then take Uriah's wife Bathsheba as his wife. David had committed adultery with her, resulting in her pregnancy.
I attended the first Catholic Men's Conference at Charlotte Catholic a couple weeks ago. And although I hadn't being unfaithful to my wife or ordered another man's hit, the Holy Spirit called me out at the Conference for not having been the man I thought I was.
Before attending the Conference, I was convinced that I was a man of prayer, a loving husband and father. Well, the keynote speaker, Fr. Larry Richards of the Diocese of Erie, Pa., showed me that I had been suffering from an acute case of self-deception. My prayer life had been filled with self-interest, and I had constantly placed myself before God and my family.
With a drill-sergeant-turned-Pentecostal-preacher style and a quick wit reminiscent of George Carlin, Fr. Larry got in the face of almost 700 men present at the Charlotte Catholic gym. His message was overdue for a lot of us present, and I wish every Catholic man in the Diocese of Charlotte had attended that conference.
At one point, Fr. Larry asked us if we would lay down our lives for our wives and families and take a bullet for them if an intruder were to invade our homes. We all said yes. His response was, “Well, the world, the flesh and the Devil want to get to your wife and kill your family. And you have tell them, 'you have to get through me to get to them.'”
That did it for me. I came to see that a real man prays and loves. A real man builds his day on God and arms himself for battle with the shield of God's grace in the sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist, in that order. A real man picks up the sword of the Word of God by reading and meditating on the Scriptures daily. A real man loves by laying his life down for others in service, and he places God first, others second and himself last. A real man strives to become a saint by dying to himself and embracing his cross on a daily basis. That's the kind of man Fr. Larry preached about during the conference, and that's the kind of man I pray to become.
There's a real battlefield out there for men, and it's time for us to step up spiritually and become relevant in our Catholic households and in society again. Not by lording it over, but by us becoming servant-leaders. God expects us to be “the man” – the man our wives and families deserve.
This was not exactly an exultation of King David's manhood – that's how the prophet Nathan rebuked David in the Old Testament for setting up Uriah the Hittite to be killed in battle. David could then take Uriah's wife Bathsheba as his wife. David had committed adultery with her, resulting in her pregnancy.
I attended the first Catholic Men's Conference at Charlotte Catholic a couple weeks ago. And although I hadn't being unfaithful to my wife or ordered another man's hit, the Holy Spirit called me out at the Conference for not having been the man I thought I was.
Before attending the Conference, I was convinced that I was a man of prayer, a loving husband and father. Well, the keynote speaker, Fr. Larry Richards of the Diocese of Erie, Pa., showed me that I had been suffering from an acute case of self-deception. My prayer life had been filled with self-interest, and I had constantly placed myself before God and my family.
With a drill-sergeant-turned-Pentecostal-preacher style and a quick wit reminiscent of George Carlin, Fr. Larry got in the face of almost 700 men present at the Charlotte Catholic gym. His message was overdue for a lot of us present, and I wish every Catholic man in the Diocese of Charlotte had attended that conference.
At one point, Fr. Larry asked us if we would lay down our lives for our wives and families and take a bullet for them if an intruder were to invade our homes. We all said yes. His response was, “Well, the world, the flesh and the Devil want to get to your wife and kill your family. And you have tell them, 'you have to get through me to get to them.'”
That did it for me. I came to see that a real man prays and loves. A real man builds his day on God and arms himself for battle with the shield of God's grace in the sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist, in that order. A real man picks up the sword of the Word of God by reading and meditating on the Scriptures daily. A real man loves by laying his life down for others in service, and he places God first, others second and himself last. A real man strives to become a saint by dying to himself and embracing his cross on a daily basis. That's the kind of man Fr. Larry preached about during the conference, and that's the kind of man I pray to become.
There's a real battlefield out there for men, and it's time for us to step up spiritually and become relevant in our Catholic households and in society again. Not by lording it over, but by us becoming servant-leaders. God expects us to be “the man” – the man our wives and families deserve.
The Silence of the Lambs
While attending Saturday morning Mass at St. Vincent de Paul Church in Charlotte last month, Fr. Frank Pavone, the director of Priests for Life, who visited Charlotte for our local March for life, showed me how indifferent I have become to the sad reality of widespread abortion in our contemporary society. Fr. Pavone led us into a novena for an end to abortion at the conclusion of the Mass. There was a part of that prayer that really resonated deep in my heart, “Today, I commit myself never to be silent, never to be passive, never to be forgetful of the unborn.” Jesus' words, “To whom much is given, much is required,” have kept echoing in my mind ever since that cold January morning at St. Vincent de Paul Church.
For the average Catholic in the pew, the topic of abortion is very delicate and difficult to speak about – an almost taboo subject. Nobody wants to rock the boat, myself included. After all, the woman sitting next to you during Sunday Mass might have made a desperate decision to abort a baby earlier in life, or she might be married to a man who fathered an aborted child.
There are three things we can do as practicing Catholics to get more involved in the pro-life movement. First and foremost, we should pray to Our Lady of Guadalupe, patroness of the Pro-Life Movement. When Our Lady appeared to St. Juan Diego in Mexico in the 16th century, the locals were sacrificing close to 9,000 people a year to appease their gods. Our Lady of Guadalupe put an end to that human sacrifice within just a few years. Saying a rosary on Saturdays for the unborn and their mothers is a good starting point. Fr. Pavone stated most women have abortions out of despair; they lose hope and fear they will not be able to take care of their unborn child.
St. Ignatius of Loyola said, “We should pray as if everything depended on God, and work as if everything depended on us.” The bottom line is, abortion is big business – a billion dollar industry. Planned Parenthood is the biggest abortion provider in the country, and a staunch advocate of the incorrectly defined “reproductive rights.” It also receive federal funding every year. I feel we as Catholics are not vocal enough in the political arena concerning this issue. More of our legislative representatives need to hear of our disapproval of tax money going to Planned Parenthood.
Finally, let's us be conscious of the women and men, Catholic or not, in need of healing and forgiveness caused by the sin of abortion. They are also tragic victims, as are the aborted children. As part of the of the wounded Body of Christ, they need the hope of God's infinite mercy and healing in the Person of the Divine Healer, Jesus Christ. An organization called Rachel's Vineyard facilitates this type of healing and forgiveness with women and men affected by abortion through weekend retreats nationwide. In Charlotte, the folks at Room at the Inn and Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity provide rays of hope to pregnant women in need of help.
The time to be silent is long past. Let's pray to Our Lord and ask Him how He wants us to help put an end to the scourge of abortion, which has silently ended the lives of more than 50 million unborn babies since Roe v. Wade legalized abortion on demand in a U.S. Supreme Court decision issued on a cold January day in 1973.
For the average Catholic in the pew, the topic of abortion is very delicate and difficult to speak about – an almost taboo subject. Nobody wants to rock the boat, myself included. After all, the woman sitting next to you during Sunday Mass might have made a desperate decision to abort a baby earlier in life, or she might be married to a man who fathered an aborted child.
There are three things we can do as practicing Catholics to get more involved in the pro-life movement. First and foremost, we should pray to Our Lady of Guadalupe, patroness of the Pro-Life Movement. When Our Lady appeared to St. Juan Diego in Mexico in the 16th century, the locals were sacrificing close to 9,000 people a year to appease their gods. Our Lady of Guadalupe put an end to that human sacrifice within just a few years. Saying a rosary on Saturdays for the unborn and their mothers is a good starting point. Fr. Pavone stated most women have abortions out of despair; they lose hope and fear they will not be able to take care of their unborn child.
St. Ignatius of Loyola said, “We should pray as if everything depended on God, and work as if everything depended on us.” The bottom line is, abortion is big business – a billion dollar industry. Planned Parenthood is the biggest abortion provider in the country, and a staunch advocate of the incorrectly defined “reproductive rights.” It also receive federal funding every year. I feel we as Catholics are not vocal enough in the political arena concerning this issue. More of our legislative representatives need to hear of our disapproval of tax money going to Planned Parenthood.
Finally, let's us be conscious of the women and men, Catholic or not, in need of healing and forgiveness caused by the sin of abortion. They are also tragic victims, as are the aborted children. As part of the of the wounded Body of Christ, they need the hope of God's infinite mercy and healing in the Person of the Divine Healer, Jesus Christ. An organization called Rachel's Vineyard facilitates this type of healing and forgiveness with women and men affected by abortion through weekend retreats nationwide. In Charlotte, the folks at Room at the Inn and Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity provide rays of hope to pregnant women in need of help.
The time to be silent is long past. Let's pray to Our Lord and ask Him how He wants us to help put an end to the scourge of abortion, which has silently ended the lives of more than 50 million unborn babies since Roe v. Wade legalized abortion on demand in a U.S. Supreme Court decision issued on a cold January day in 1973.
The Year of the Bucket
I wanted 2011 to be my best year ever in all areas of my life, so I tried to find a way for my New Year's resolutions to last for more than three weeks. I found the perfect motivation: imminent death. No, I'm not terminally ill, but like each one of us, one day, known to God alone, I will kick the proverbial bucket.
One of my favorite movies of all time is “The Bucket List,” starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. I watched the Bucket List again last week as a source of inspiration before writing any resolutions down. For those not familiar with the movie, Freeman and Nicholson share the same hospital room and find out they both have terminal cancer and have just a few months to live. Nicholson's character is a multimillionaire, with multiple ex-wives and a estranged relationship with his only daughter. Freeman is a mechanic, who sacrificed his career ambitions to put his three kids through college. Chemotherapy and sleepless nights becomes their common bond, and the two men quickly become friends. Act two begins with Freeman making a list of all the things he would like to do before he dies. He calls it a “bucket list.” Nicholson sees the list, ads a few more exciting things to it and decides to pick up the tab to complete the list. They go skydiving, race car driving, and even take a trip around the world in Nicholson's private jet.
While watching the movie, I asked myself, “What would I do if I knew I was going to die on December 31, 2011?” My New Year's resolutions then turned into my Last Year's resolutions. It was a scary yet sobering thought. At the beginning of the Bucket List, the narrator---Freeman, of course--- says that when Jack Nicholson's character died “his eyes were closed, and his heart was open.” That was the clue to what I would do with my bucket year. I realized that instead of things to do, I had people to love.
First on my list is to deepen my relationship with God and neighbor. However, to love God is always easier than to love God in those around us. Our families and those close to us could be toughest people to love at times. I'm also certain that they would say the same thing about loving us back.
At the climax of the movie, Nicholson gets upset with Freeman because he tried to arrange for Nicholson to reconcile with his daughter without his consent. The two then part ways abruptly, only to reunite weeks later right before Freeman's character dies. Freeman writes a letter to Nicholson before his passing and tells Jack to find the “joy in his life.” Nicholson then musters enough courage to reconcile with his daughter, and the rest is a happy ending.
John Meyer's “Say” was the theme song for the movie. The lyrics appropriately chime: “Say what you need to say; for it's better to say too much than to say nothing at all.” I think to live without regrets is to have no unresolved issues with those around us at the hour of our death. Perhaps three of the most difficult words to say in the English language are: “I'm sorry;” “I love you;” or “I forgive you.”
While I don't wish for anyone to die this year, and God-willing most of us will not, I think it's important to keep our mortality always before us. If we do, it will remind us to love God and our neighbor at all times, so like Jesus we could die with our eyes closed and our hearts open.
One of my favorite movies of all time is “The Bucket List,” starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. I watched the Bucket List again last week as a source of inspiration before writing any resolutions down. For those not familiar with the movie, Freeman and Nicholson share the same hospital room and find out they both have terminal cancer and have just a few months to live. Nicholson's character is a multimillionaire, with multiple ex-wives and a estranged relationship with his only daughter. Freeman is a mechanic, who sacrificed his career ambitions to put his three kids through college. Chemotherapy and sleepless nights becomes their common bond, and the two men quickly become friends. Act two begins with Freeman making a list of all the things he would like to do before he dies. He calls it a “bucket list.” Nicholson sees the list, ads a few more exciting things to it and decides to pick up the tab to complete the list. They go skydiving, race car driving, and even take a trip around the world in Nicholson's private jet.
While watching the movie, I asked myself, “What would I do if I knew I was going to die on December 31, 2011?” My New Year's resolutions then turned into my Last Year's resolutions. It was a scary yet sobering thought. At the beginning of the Bucket List, the narrator---Freeman, of course--- says that when Jack Nicholson's character died “his eyes were closed, and his heart was open.” That was the clue to what I would do with my bucket year. I realized that instead of things to do, I had people to love.
First on my list is to deepen my relationship with God and neighbor. However, to love God is always easier than to love God in those around us. Our families and those close to us could be toughest people to love at times. I'm also certain that they would say the same thing about loving us back.
At the climax of the movie, Nicholson gets upset with Freeman because he tried to arrange for Nicholson to reconcile with his daughter without his consent. The two then part ways abruptly, only to reunite weeks later right before Freeman's character dies. Freeman writes a letter to Nicholson before his passing and tells Jack to find the “joy in his life.” Nicholson then musters enough courage to reconcile with his daughter, and the rest is a happy ending.
John Meyer's “Say” was the theme song for the movie. The lyrics appropriately chime: “Say what you need to say; for it's better to say too much than to say nothing at all.” I think to live without regrets is to have no unresolved issues with those around us at the hour of our death. Perhaps three of the most difficult words to say in the English language are: “I'm sorry;” “I love you;” or “I forgive you.”
While I don't wish for anyone to die this year, and God-willing most of us will not, I think it's important to keep our mortality always before us. If we do, it will remind us to love God and our neighbor at all times, so like Jesus we could die with our eyes closed and our hearts open.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Got Bread?
Jesus is hungry, and all He wants for Christmas is for us to feed Him.
Last month, during Thanksgiving week, I was approached by three young girls outside of a grocery store and asked if I wanted to donate money to help feed the homeless for Thanksgiving. I was impressed by the young ladies’ zeal to help the hungry, and in exchange for a small contribution, they gave me a wristband that read "End Hunger." I wear the wristband daily now as a reminder of my Christian responsibility to help alleviate the real struggle some less fortunate men and women endure to obtain their daily bread.
While Jesus said in the Gospel "For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you will, you can do good to them" (Mk 14:7), and hunger most likely will never end until His return, Mother Teresa of Calcutta used to say that Jesus "hides" in the poorest of the poor, and it was Christ whom she served in them. St. Francis of Assisi said, "The poor don’t need us. We need the poor to show God we love Him."
However, we don’t have to be a mystic to recognize our obligation to perform the corporal works of mercy. All we need is to heed Jesus words in the Gospel: "For I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me," (Mt 25:35).
As with everything we do in our daily lives, we should ask Our Lord in prayer how He wants us to feed Him. All it requires is a slight shift in our spiritual awareness in how we relate to the needy in society. Perhaps, a good time to pray about it could be during our family meals. A simple phrase like, "Lord, let us be mindful of those who will go without today," could carry a lot of spiritual weight, and I’m confident the Lord will present us with ample opportunities to help others. The person ringing the bell outside your grocery store at this time of year would take on a whole new meaning. Our maybe, an invitation from a fellow parishioner to help feed the homeless at the shelter this month could be the catalyst to encourage us to look beyond ourselves during the season.
This Christmas time, let’s not forget that God chose to be born hidden in a stable and revealed Himself to the simple shepherds on that holy night. Let’s recognize the hungry Christ hidden in plain sight among us, and feed Him to the best of our capabilities. In that way, we will truly echo the choir of angels when we sing on Christmas Eve, "‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!’" (Lk 2:14).
Last month, during Thanksgiving week, I was approached by three young girls outside of a grocery store and asked if I wanted to donate money to help feed the homeless for Thanksgiving. I was impressed by the young ladies’ zeal to help the hungry, and in exchange for a small contribution, they gave me a wristband that read "End Hunger." I wear the wristband daily now as a reminder of my Christian responsibility to help alleviate the real struggle some less fortunate men and women endure to obtain their daily bread.
While Jesus said in the Gospel "For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you will, you can do good to them" (Mk 14:7), and hunger most likely will never end until His return, Mother Teresa of Calcutta used to say that Jesus "hides" in the poorest of the poor, and it was Christ whom she served in them. St. Francis of Assisi said, "The poor don’t need us. We need the poor to show God we love Him."
However, we don’t have to be a mystic to recognize our obligation to perform the corporal works of mercy. All we need is to heed Jesus words in the Gospel: "For I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me," (Mt 25:35).
As with everything we do in our daily lives, we should ask Our Lord in prayer how He wants us to feed Him. All it requires is a slight shift in our spiritual awareness in how we relate to the needy in society. Perhaps, a good time to pray about it could be during our family meals. A simple phrase like, "Lord, let us be mindful of those who will go without today," could carry a lot of spiritual weight, and I’m confident the Lord will present us with ample opportunities to help others. The person ringing the bell outside your grocery store at this time of year would take on a whole new meaning. Our maybe, an invitation from a fellow parishioner to help feed the homeless at the shelter this month could be the catalyst to encourage us to look beyond ourselves during the season.
This Christmas time, let’s not forget that God chose to be born hidden in a stable and revealed Himself to the simple shepherds on that holy night. Let’s recognize the hungry Christ hidden in plain sight among us, and feed Him to the best of our capabilities. In that way, we will truly echo the choir of angels when we sing on Christmas Eve, "‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!’" (Lk 2:14).
God's Dream for Us
Advent is a time to “stay awake” and be watchful “for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (Mt. 24:44).
I’ve always had a hard time grasping why the Church focuses on the Second Coming of Jesus during Christ the King Sunday and for most of the Advent season. With the beginning of the new liturgical year on the first Sunday of Advent, and Christmas less than a month away, it just doesn’t seem like “Christmas Spirit” to hear about the “end times” – or in Church parlance, the four “last things”: death, judgment, heaven and hell.
However, it is important to remember that Jesus Christ is the “spirit” of Christmas. The reason He was born was to die for us, so if we live and die for Him, we could live with Him forever at the end of our lives. In this way, the two celebrations are understandably linked.
I’m not a George Clooney fan, but I recently watched the movie “Up in the Air.” In the movie during one of the many firings Clooney conducted, he had a line that stuck in my mind. After looking at a disgruntled employee’s resume, Clooney tells the man, “Do you know why people admire professional athletes? Because they follow their dreams.” Apparently the guy he was firing had studied culinary arts earlier in his career, and Clooney wanted to redirect the employee back to his initial calling to be a chef.
After reflecting on that statement, I pictured myself face to face with Jesus after I died, and I imagined Him asking me, “Do you know why people admire the saints? Because they followed my Father’s dream.”
God’s dream for each one of us is to be spiritually perfect, like Him, and it’s in the pursuit of our spiritual perfection that we become holy. As it is, we are all a work in progress, and it is up to us to choose the speed of our progress.
Similar to the U.S. Army’s recruiting slogan, one could say that the motto for God’s army is: “Be all that I created you to be.”
In the letter to the Romans, St. Paul gives us a timeless blueprint to help us become all that God wants us to be: “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires” (Rom 13:14).
Although Advent has a penitential dimension to it, just as Lent does to a greater extent, perhaps we should approach Advent in a more literal way: as a new beginning in our spiritual lives. The Advent season is a good time to avail ourselves of the sacrament of reconciliation and atone for our sins by helping the poor and the marginalized according to our state of life, “since love covers a multitude of sins” (1 Pet 4:8).
This Advent, let’s live out the Father’s dream and prepare ourselves for the return of our King, “For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed” (Rom 13:11).
I’ve always had a hard time grasping why the Church focuses on the Second Coming of Jesus during Christ the King Sunday and for most of the Advent season. With the beginning of the new liturgical year on the first Sunday of Advent, and Christmas less than a month away, it just doesn’t seem like “Christmas Spirit” to hear about the “end times” – or in Church parlance, the four “last things”: death, judgment, heaven and hell.
However, it is important to remember that Jesus Christ is the “spirit” of Christmas. The reason He was born was to die for us, so if we live and die for Him, we could live with Him forever at the end of our lives. In this way, the two celebrations are understandably linked.
I’m not a George Clooney fan, but I recently watched the movie “Up in the Air.” In the movie during one of the many firings Clooney conducted, he had a line that stuck in my mind. After looking at a disgruntled employee’s resume, Clooney tells the man, “Do you know why people admire professional athletes? Because they follow their dreams.” Apparently the guy he was firing had studied culinary arts earlier in his career, and Clooney wanted to redirect the employee back to his initial calling to be a chef.
After reflecting on that statement, I pictured myself face to face with Jesus after I died, and I imagined Him asking me, “Do you know why people admire the saints? Because they followed my Father’s dream.”
God’s dream for each one of us is to be spiritually perfect, like Him, and it’s in the pursuit of our spiritual perfection that we become holy. As it is, we are all a work in progress, and it is up to us to choose the speed of our progress.
Similar to the U.S. Army’s recruiting slogan, one could say that the motto for God’s army is: “Be all that I created you to be.”
In the letter to the Romans, St. Paul gives us a timeless blueprint to help us become all that God wants us to be: “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires” (Rom 13:14).
Although Advent has a penitential dimension to it, just as Lent does to a greater extent, perhaps we should approach Advent in a more literal way: as a new beginning in our spiritual lives. The Advent season is a good time to avail ourselves of the sacrament of reconciliation and atone for our sins by helping the poor and the marginalized according to our state of life, “since love covers a multitude of sins” (1 Pet 4:8).
This Advent, let’s live out the Father’s dream and prepare ourselves for the return of our King, “For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed” (Rom 13:11).
We Are All Called to be Holy
While teaching a CCD class recently to a group of third- and fourth-graders, I shocked them when I said we are all called to be saints. One student let out a loud “What?!” and the incredulous blank stares on the others confirmed he spoke for the entire class.
I was telling the kids about the life of St. Francis of Assisi, and how God's plan for us is to accomplish our unique mission in life with His help and then enjoy Heaven with Him forever.
The students’ reaction reminded me that perhaps we don't hear often enough about our essential purpose in life: our call to holiness.
On Nov. 1, the Church celebrated one of my favorite feast days: the Solemnity of All Saints. I love it not only because of my special devotion to some of the saints, but because it reminds me of what I could become with the help of God's grace.
As a part of the Communion of Saints, we, the Pilgrim Church on earth, by virtue of our baptism, share in the joy and prayers of the Church Triumphant in Heaven, better known as All Saints. The saints love to intercede for us even more than we like to ask them to pray for us. They want us to make it to Heaven and be with God and them when we die.
The question is: Do we want to go?
As Catholics living in today’s material world, we need to be reminded of the real meaning of life. The Baltimore Catechism taught: “We were created to know, love and serve God in this life, and to be happy with Him in Heaven.” More recently, the Church during Vatican II, in “The Church in the Modern World,” restated this goal as “the universal call to holiness.”
Today, though, the Church has to compete with Facebook, Twitter and PlayStation to get this message across to younger Catholics. And we have to concentrate even more on our true purpose, not being distracted by the daily grind of life.
Like many people, I once assumed that only priests and religious had the responsibility to be holy since most saints in Church history had followed a religious or priestly vocation. Religious achieve their sanctity by serving the Church in their unique ways, or “charisms,” and also by praying for the needs of the Church. Priests are ordained to sanctify the laity by saying Mass and administering the sacraments to us and achieving their salvation in the process.
But we can also become saints – in spite of the daily grind – when we bring Christ into our homes, the workplace and the social arena. That's no easy task and can only be achieved through prayer, the sacraments and reading the Scriptures – the same way the saints did.
Most of us may never be canonized and have the title “saint” added to our names after we die. However, if we keep life’s ultimate purpose in sight at all times, our names will be written in the Book of Life, and the Church and our loved ones will remember us as the faithful departed
I was telling the kids about the life of St. Francis of Assisi, and how God's plan for us is to accomplish our unique mission in life with His help and then enjoy Heaven with Him forever.
The students’ reaction reminded me that perhaps we don't hear often enough about our essential purpose in life: our call to holiness.
On Nov. 1, the Church celebrated one of my favorite feast days: the Solemnity of All Saints. I love it not only because of my special devotion to some of the saints, but because it reminds me of what I could become with the help of God's grace.
As a part of the Communion of Saints, we, the Pilgrim Church on earth, by virtue of our baptism, share in the joy and prayers of the Church Triumphant in Heaven, better known as All Saints. The saints love to intercede for us even more than we like to ask them to pray for us. They want us to make it to Heaven and be with God and them when we die.
The question is: Do we want to go?
As Catholics living in today’s material world, we need to be reminded of the real meaning of life. The Baltimore Catechism taught: “We were created to know, love and serve God in this life, and to be happy with Him in Heaven.” More recently, the Church during Vatican II, in “The Church in the Modern World,” restated this goal as “the universal call to holiness.”
Today, though, the Church has to compete with Facebook, Twitter and PlayStation to get this message across to younger Catholics. And we have to concentrate even more on our true purpose, not being distracted by the daily grind of life.
Like many people, I once assumed that only priests and religious had the responsibility to be holy since most saints in Church history had followed a religious or priestly vocation. Religious achieve their sanctity by serving the Church in their unique ways, or “charisms,” and also by praying for the needs of the Church. Priests are ordained to sanctify the laity by saying Mass and administering the sacraments to us and achieving their salvation in the process.
But we can also become saints – in spite of the daily grind – when we bring Christ into our homes, the workplace and the social arena. That's no easy task and can only be achieved through prayer, the sacraments and reading the Scriptures – the same way the saints did.
Most of us may never be canonized and have the title “saint” added to our names after we die. However, if we keep life’s ultimate purpose in sight at all times, our names will be written in the Book of Life, and the Church and our loved ones will remember us as the faithful departed
A Monk and a Saint to me
During my stint as a seminarian for the Diocese of Charlotte in the late 1990s, I had the privilege of getting to know someone I considered a living saint.
Brother Anthony Costello, O.S.B., was a Benedictine monk at St. Vincent Seminary in Latrobe, Pa. The Benedictines who taught at the seminary lived at St. Vincent Archabbey, located next to the seminary grounds.
Brother Anthony became one of my best friends.
Formerly known as Tom Costello, Brother Anthony entered St. Vincent Seminary as a seminarian for the Diocese of Youngstown, Ohio, in 1997. However, Tom felt called to the monastic life and began his novitiate at St. Vincent Archabbey about two years later.
Brother Anthony was a man of intense and constant prayer. Every time I asked him to pray for somebody, he would say, “Let's pray right now!” And we would pray right then.
Anthony was a guileless man and had no unspoken thoughts. But perhaps his greatest attribute as a Christian also became his greatest cross. Brother Anthony had an “in-your-face” spirituality, and he was not afraid to call a brother seminarian out in charity if necessary. However, some of my peers did not appreciate Brother Anthony's zeal and at times misunderstood him as being self-righteous.
I'm convinced that the secret to Brother Anthony's sanctity was his faithfulness to the three pillars of the Church: a sincere and fervent devotion to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, a filial devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and an unquestionable adherence to the pope and the Magisterium.
Brother Anthony could always be found at the break of dawn in the seminary chapel making a “Holy Hour” in front of the Blessed Sacrament, rosary beads in his hand. As a student of the School of Mary, Brother Anthony loved to pray the rosary, with anybody and everybody, several times a day. He was also committed to the pro-life cause, and, as a seminarian and then as a monk, he drove with other seminarians to Pittsburgh on every first Saturday to pray the rosary in front of a local abortion mill.
October is the month of the rosary, and it's also designated as Respect Life Month. I don't believe it's a coincidence that Brother Anthony died instantly of a massive heart aneurysm, when his heart literally burst, on Oct. 18, 2000 – the feast of St. Luke the Evangelist. Brother Anthony was only 31 years old when he passed on, but in his short life he touched the lives of everyone around him.
As word of this holy monk's life spreads further among Catholics, I believe the Church will one day canonize Brother Anthony. Then, if I'm still around, I will tell everyone I know that “Saint” Anthony Costello was my friend.
Brother Anthony Costello, O.S.B., was a Benedictine monk at St. Vincent Seminary in Latrobe, Pa. The Benedictines who taught at the seminary lived at St. Vincent Archabbey, located next to the seminary grounds.
Brother Anthony became one of my best friends.
Formerly known as Tom Costello, Brother Anthony entered St. Vincent Seminary as a seminarian for the Diocese of Youngstown, Ohio, in 1997. However, Tom felt called to the monastic life and began his novitiate at St. Vincent Archabbey about two years later.
Brother Anthony was a man of intense and constant prayer. Every time I asked him to pray for somebody, he would say, “Let's pray right now!” And we would pray right then.
Anthony was a guileless man and had no unspoken thoughts. But perhaps his greatest attribute as a Christian also became his greatest cross. Brother Anthony had an “in-your-face” spirituality, and he was not afraid to call a brother seminarian out in charity if necessary. However, some of my peers did not appreciate Brother Anthony's zeal and at times misunderstood him as being self-righteous.
I'm convinced that the secret to Brother Anthony's sanctity was his faithfulness to the three pillars of the Church: a sincere and fervent devotion to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, a filial devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and an unquestionable adherence to the pope and the Magisterium.
Brother Anthony could always be found at the break of dawn in the seminary chapel making a “Holy Hour” in front of the Blessed Sacrament, rosary beads in his hand. As a student of the School of Mary, Brother Anthony loved to pray the rosary, with anybody and everybody, several times a day. He was also committed to the pro-life cause, and, as a seminarian and then as a monk, he drove with other seminarians to Pittsburgh on every first Saturday to pray the rosary in front of a local abortion mill.
October is the month of the rosary, and it's also designated as Respect Life Month. I don't believe it's a coincidence that Brother Anthony died instantly of a massive heart aneurysm, when his heart literally burst, on Oct. 18, 2000 – the feast of St. Luke the Evangelist. Brother Anthony was only 31 years old when he passed on, but in his short life he touched the lives of everyone around him.
As word of this holy monk's life spreads further among Catholics, I believe the Church will one day canonize Brother Anthony. Then, if I'm still around, I will tell everyone I know that “Saint” Anthony Costello was my friend.
Does God Have a Sense of Humor?
The newspaper cartoon read, "And there was silence in Heaven when God sneezed." After my initial chuckle, instead of dismissing the thought of it as absurd, I pondered: Does God have a sense of humor? And if He does, What makes Him laugh? As the Creator of the Universe and “giver of all good gifts” (Jas 1:17), all of creation is worthy of our praise because it reflects God's infinite goodness and profound beauty. I feel laughter is a reflection of God's joy and an integral part of His “personality.” We read in Genesis that when God created all things, He saw that it was "very good," (Gn 1:31). Therefore, if a sense of humor is good to have, and since God is All-Good, then He must have the BEST sense of humor---I'm not kidding.
Laughter, like music, has a universal appeal, and, as with music, humor is a matter of personal preference. Just mentioning the name “Charlie Chaplin” is enough to put a smile on the face of almost anyone over 60. However, I hear most women don't find the Three Stooges amusing. The comedic genius of the Marx Brothers and “I Love Lucy” are all-time classics. The irreverent humor of George Carlin and Richard Pryor was descriptive of the rebellious 60s and 70s, and it had an either “love it or hate it” dimension to it. The manic humor of Robin Williams and the mass-appeal of “Seinfield” defined comedy during the 80s and 90s. Most recently, Saturday Night Live gave us Tina Fey and Jimmy Fallon just to name a few. God has given us great comics not only to make us laugh out loud, but also to give us a foretaste of Heaven, “Where God will wipe away every tear,” (Rev 7:17).
A lesser-known comic and champion of the poor, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, coined the phrase: "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” Besides Mother Teresa, some other great saints in Church history have used humor to help them fight the good fight in this “valley of tears.” Saint Teresa of Avila, a Doctor of the Church, constantly prayed, “From sour-face saints, deliver us O Lord.” The same St. Teresa was thrown off a carriage one time, landed face-first in a mud puddle and cried to Heaven: “Lord, if this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few.”
Comedians make us laugh because they are keenly aware of how to find humor in everyday life and point it out to us. The saints inspire us to holiness because they made the choice to faithfully seek and serve God every day of their lives. Saint Ignatius of Loyola's motto was “To seek God in all things and above all things.” I propose we could look for God and His humor in all things. A good sense of humor is a matter of awareness, and it can truly help us ease the yoke of the mundane and keep life's burdens light.
They say hindsight is always 20/20. And, in my opinion, if I knew then, what I know now, it's never funny then, but now. God's sense of humor is just His way of showing us that He is always present in our lives, whether we see it then or now. On December 27, 1995, I had a conversion experience in St. Augustine, Florida. Inebriated and about to get in serious trouble, I made a promise to the Blessed Virgin to change my ways in exchange for her immediate rescue. Mama Mary came through, and I came back to the Church. Years later, I learned that St. Augustine is the patron saint of brewers and enjoyed a good party or two before becoming a bishop and Doctor of the Church. December 27, is also the feast of St. John the Evangelist, and the City of St. Augustine is located in St. John County.
All kidding aside, it makes sense to think God does have a sense of humor, and we can all make Him laugh. All we have to do is talk to Him regularly like our best friend. After all, the joke is not on us, but the Almighty already knows the punchline. The late Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen said the only thing Jesus reserved for Heaven while on earth was His laughter. Because as Sheen said, “The one thing that will make Heaven, Heaven, is to see God's smile.”
Laughter, like music, has a universal appeal, and, as with music, humor is a matter of personal preference. Just mentioning the name “Charlie Chaplin” is enough to put a smile on the face of almost anyone over 60. However, I hear most women don't find the Three Stooges amusing. The comedic genius of the Marx Brothers and “I Love Lucy” are all-time classics. The irreverent humor of George Carlin and Richard Pryor was descriptive of the rebellious 60s and 70s, and it had an either “love it or hate it” dimension to it. The manic humor of Robin Williams and the mass-appeal of “Seinfield” defined comedy during the 80s and 90s. Most recently, Saturday Night Live gave us Tina Fey and Jimmy Fallon just to name a few. God has given us great comics not only to make us laugh out loud, but also to give us a foretaste of Heaven, “Where God will wipe away every tear,” (Rev 7:17).
A lesser-known comic and champion of the poor, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, coined the phrase: "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” Besides Mother Teresa, some other great saints in Church history have used humor to help them fight the good fight in this “valley of tears.” Saint Teresa of Avila, a Doctor of the Church, constantly prayed, “From sour-face saints, deliver us O Lord.” The same St. Teresa was thrown off a carriage one time, landed face-first in a mud puddle and cried to Heaven: “Lord, if this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few.”
Comedians make us laugh because they are keenly aware of how to find humor in everyday life and point it out to us. The saints inspire us to holiness because they made the choice to faithfully seek and serve God every day of their lives. Saint Ignatius of Loyola's motto was “To seek God in all things and above all things.” I propose we could look for God and His humor in all things. A good sense of humor is a matter of awareness, and it can truly help us ease the yoke of the mundane and keep life's burdens light.
They say hindsight is always 20/20. And, in my opinion, if I knew then, what I know now, it's never funny then, but now. God's sense of humor is just His way of showing us that He is always present in our lives, whether we see it then or now. On December 27, 1995, I had a conversion experience in St. Augustine, Florida. Inebriated and about to get in serious trouble, I made a promise to the Blessed Virgin to change my ways in exchange for her immediate rescue. Mama Mary came through, and I came back to the Church. Years later, I learned that St. Augustine is the patron saint of brewers and enjoyed a good party or two before becoming a bishop and Doctor of the Church. December 27, is also the feast of St. John the Evangelist, and the City of St. Augustine is located in St. John County.
All kidding aside, it makes sense to think God does have a sense of humor, and we can all make Him laugh. All we have to do is talk to Him regularly like our best friend. After all, the joke is not on us, but the Almighty already knows the punchline. The late Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen said the only thing Jesus reserved for Heaven while on earth was His laughter. Because as Sheen said, “The one thing that will make Heaven, Heaven, is to see God's smile.”
Does God Tweeter?
While watching one of those nightly entertainment news shows recently, I was amazed how powerful a medium the internet has become to our modern culture. Apparently, the latest teenage heartthrob/singing-sensation decided to retaliate against an overzealous fan who had enough ingenuity to get the singer's cell phone number after hacking into the celebrity's best friend's Facebook page. The fan then called the pop singer from his cell phone. However, the young star did not find the prank amusing, and he immediately posted the prankster's phone number on his Tweeter page. The singer then “tweeted” all his “followers” to call him at that number right away. The story said the kid's cell phone literally rang every second for days, and his cell phone did not have enough memory to record the thousands of voice mails he received during that time.
The current Twitter craze is just another example of our society's microwave mentality driven by our constant need of immediate gratification---right now. For those of you not familiar with Twitter.com, it's like text messaging on-line, only the tweets are limited to 140 characters or less. With few exceptions, all celebrities, movie stars and sports stars have a Twitter page. It's a convenient way to update their thousands of followers immediately on anything from where they're going to lunch, to how good it feels to finally be out of jail after serving time for violating their substance abuse probation.
Then I asked myself: “If God truly meets us where we are and would use any means to get our attention, would He tweet or not? The answer of course is He tweets every second we breathe; we just can't hear Him. Because we're so preoccupied by what's going on in the real world, we neglect to pay attention to our interior life, where He prefers to talk to us. Like Elijah in the cave, we hear the heavy wind outside; we witness an earthquake and then fire, thinking is God talking, but the Lord is not there. He speaks to our hearts in a “small still voice,” (1 Kings 19:12).
The real question is not whether or not God has a Twitter account, but why don't we truly follow His every prompt with the same solicitude and deference we give to our favorite actor, pop singer or franchise player? Possibly because to be a faithful follower of Christ takes a conscious effort and discipline, and most of the time Jesus gives us no immediate feedback to gauge our progress in the spiritual life.
I have close friends who have left the church. They tell me in all sincerity that they don't get anything out of the Mass. It's boring, and God doesn't speak to them at church. Well, my response to that is maybe God is telling them to work on the same issue over and over again, and Jesus has nothing new to say until they work on that issue first.
God's Twitter page expands the ages. Scripture, the Church as it teaches, Mass and our neighbors are the subjects of His tweets. He even gives us the food for strength to tweet back to Him:
Take this and eat it: This is my body which will be given up for you. Take and drink: This is the cup of my blood. Do this in memory of me.
The current Twitter craze is just another example of our society's microwave mentality driven by our constant need of immediate gratification---right now. For those of you not familiar with Twitter.com, it's like text messaging on-line, only the tweets are limited to 140 characters or less. With few exceptions, all celebrities, movie stars and sports stars have a Twitter page. It's a convenient way to update their thousands of followers immediately on anything from where they're going to lunch, to how good it feels to finally be out of jail after serving time for violating their substance abuse probation.
Then I asked myself: “If God truly meets us where we are and would use any means to get our attention, would He tweet or not? The answer of course is He tweets every second we breathe; we just can't hear Him. Because we're so preoccupied by what's going on in the real world, we neglect to pay attention to our interior life, where He prefers to talk to us. Like Elijah in the cave, we hear the heavy wind outside; we witness an earthquake and then fire, thinking is God talking, but the Lord is not there. He speaks to our hearts in a “small still voice,” (1 Kings 19:12).
The real question is not whether or not God has a Twitter account, but why don't we truly follow His every prompt with the same solicitude and deference we give to our favorite actor, pop singer or franchise player? Possibly because to be a faithful follower of Christ takes a conscious effort and discipline, and most of the time Jesus gives us no immediate feedback to gauge our progress in the spiritual life.
I have close friends who have left the church. They tell me in all sincerity that they don't get anything out of the Mass. It's boring, and God doesn't speak to them at church. Well, my response to that is maybe God is telling them to work on the same issue over and over again, and Jesus has nothing new to say until they work on that issue first.
God's Twitter page expands the ages. Scripture, the Church as it teaches, Mass and our neighbors are the subjects of His tweets. He even gives us the food for strength to tweet back to Him:
Take this and eat it: This is my body which will be given up for you. Take and drink: This is the cup of my blood. Do this in memory of me.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Wrong View from the Back Pew
Most of us are familiar with the Native American saying: “Don't judge a man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins.” Well, I have a church version of it: “Don't pass judgment on your fellow Catholic during Mass unless you're sitting on the same pew.”
Last summer while visiting my brother in Florida, the Lord taught me a lesson about how to look at other people's actions from His point of view, instead of mine. During Sunday Mass, I sat in the last pew as I typically do. The church was not very crowded, and I had a clear view –or so I thought – of the backs of everyone in the congregation.
One of the obvious drawbacks of sitting in the back of the church is my tendency sometimes to get distracted watching people, instead of paying attention during Mass. During the Consecration, I noticed a woman in her late 30s sitting two pews directly in front of me. She sat on the edge of her pew, slouching forward with her head down through most of the Eucharistic prayer. For some reason, I started to get annoyed that she wasn't kneeling. The priest’s prayers of “This is my Body” and “This is my Blood” did not register in my mind at that moment, and I only vaguely remember praying the Our Father. But I clearly remember when the same woman slowly turned around at the sign of peace.
She was very pregnant.
As I leaned forward to shake her hand, I was humbled but also relieved that only God can read our minds. I immediately thanked Our Lord for the lesson I’d learned, and I said a quick prayer for the woman and her unborn baby to atone for my self-righteous thoughts.
I still sit in the back pew these days, but now I make an effort to keep my gaze fixed on the altar. Everyone knows we're not supposed to pass judgment on others, but we often fall in that trap because of our human weakness. Sometimes, if we're fortunate, the Lord makes us aware of it and asks us to remove “the plank” from our eyes. Other times, our neighbor reminds us that we're human, too.
Next time we're tempted to question someone else, in church or anywhere else, perhaps we should strive to see things from that person's point of view instead. Better yet, we should ask God for His guidance before we jump to conclusions, because He always has a better view than we do.
Last summer while visiting my brother in Florida, the Lord taught me a lesson about how to look at other people's actions from His point of view, instead of mine. During Sunday Mass, I sat in the last pew as I typically do. The church was not very crowded, and I had a clear view –or so I thought – of the backs of everyone in the congregation.
One of the obvious drawbacks of sitting in the back of the church is my tendency sometimes to get distracted watching people, instead of paying attention during Mass. During the Consecration, I noticed a woman in her late 30s sitting two pews directly in front of me. She sat on the edge of her pew, slouching forward with her head down through most of the Eucharistic prayer. For some reason, I started to get annoyed that she wasn't kneeling. The priest’s prayers of “This is my Body” and “This is my Blood” did not register in my mind at that moment, and I only vaguely remember praying the Our Father. But I clearly remember when the same woman slowly turned around at the sign of peace.
She was very pregnant.
As I leaned forward to shake her hand, I was humbled but also relieved that only God can read our minds. I immediately thanked Our Lord for the lesson I’d learned, and I said a quick prayer for the woman and her unborn baby to atone for my self-righteous thoughts.
I still sit in the back pew these days, but now I make an effort to keep my gaze fixed on the altar. Everyone knows we're not supposed to pass judgment on others, but we often fall in that trap because of our human weakness. Sometimes, if we're fortunate, the Lord makes us aware of it and asks us to remove “the plank” from our eyes. Other times, our neighbor reminds us that we're human, too.
Next time we're tempted to question someone else, in church or anywhere else, perhaps we should strive to see things from that person's point of view instead. Better yet, we should ask God for His guidance before we jump to conclusions, because He always has a better view than we do.
My Father, My Hero
Every kid needs a hero growing up. When I was a child my hero was my dad, and when I became a man St. Joseph – the New Testament foster-father par excellence – became my role model.
When I was growing up, my friends worshipped sports stars and superheroes. But for me, Pete Rose and Superman couldn't touch my father. My dad was not a religious man and did not practice the faith until the very end of his life. He was, however, a true family man. He had to be in order to raise nine children with my mom. My father had a superhuman presence and seemed larger than life. It wasn't so much what he did; it was who he was: He was my dad.
What I remember the most about my dad was the quality time I spent with him. He took the time to show me how to throw a curve ball. He took the time to show me how to shine my shoes and wash a car. And he also took the time to take walks with me on the beach, while he made up stories about being a World War II veteran.
When I remember my dad, who is now deceased, I also think of my other hero, St. Joseph.
As the foster-father of the Child Jesus, St. Joseph was undoubtedly truly committed to his Holy Family, much as my dad was. Father Benedict Groeschel, C.F.R., once quipped about St. Joseph: “Next time you think you're perfect, try having coffee at the kitchen table with the Immaculate Conception and the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.”
St. Joseph was a man of action and few words. Actually, there is not a single word of his recorded in the Gospel. But his consent to the angel not to divorce Mary because the child was of the Holy Spirit, and later his obedience to flee to Egypt overnight soon after Jesus' birth, were pivotal decisions.
As a father myself, every time I complain to God for not having enough means to support my family, I have only to reflect on the fact that St. Joseph supported his family on a carpenter's income, and early on, he did it in a foreign country. It wasn't until my daughter Brianna was born that I understood what Jesus meant when He said, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven” (Mt 18:3).
I recall a moment when Brianna was about 2 years old, when as I was taking her out of her car seat, she whispered sleepily, “Daddy, please don't drop me.” My immediate response was, “Sweetheart, Daddy would never drop you.” Right then, God Our Father revealed to me that He would never drop us – but we hit the ground, usually rear-end first, when we choose to let go of Him.
St. Joseph's role as Jesus’ foster-father is often overlooked. What an incredible mission for such an ordinary man to raise God's only Son. God wanted His Son to enjoy the same adulation children have shown their fathers since the dawn of creation because our earthly fathers are supposed to reflect the “awesomeness” of Our Father. I dare say that St. Joseph was Jesus' hero as He was growing up.
This Father's Day, my prayer for all fathers is that just as St. Joseph was to Jesus, my father was to me, and your father is or was to you, we become our children's heroes. I believe that is God's will for us fathers, and the true meaning behind Father's Day.
St. Joseph, Foster-Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ, pray for us.
When I was growing up, my friends worshipped sports stars and superheroes. But for me, Pete Rose and Superman couldn't touch my father. My dad was not a religious man and did not practice the faith until the very end of his life. He was, however, a true family man. He had to be in order to raise nine children with my mom. My father had a superhuman presence and seemed larger than life. It wasn't so much what he did; it was who he was: He was my dad.
What I remember the most about my dad was the quality time I spent with him. He took the time to show me how to throw a curve ball. He took the time to show me how to shine my shoes and wash a car. And he also took the time to take walks with me on the beach, while he made up stories about being a World War II veteran.
When I remember my dad, who is now deceased, I also think of my other hero, St. Joseph.
As the foster-father of the Child Jesus, St. Joseph was undoubtedly truly committed to his Holy Family, much as my dad was. Father Benedict Groeschel, C.F.R., once quipped about St. Joseph: “Next time you think you're perfect, try having coffee at the kitchen table with the Immaculate Conception and the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.”
St. Joseph was a man of action and few words. Actually, there is not a single word of his recorded in the Gospel. But his consent to the angel not to divorce Mary because the child was of the Holy Spirit, and later his obedience to flee to Egypt overnight soon after Jesus' birth, were pivotal decisions.
As a father myself, every time I complain to God for not having enough means to support my family, I have only to reflect on the fact that St. Joseph supported his family on a carpenter's income, and early on, he did it in a foreign country. It wasn't until my daughter Brianna was born that I understood what Jesus meant when He said, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven” (Mt 18:3).
I recall a moment when Brianna was about 2 years old, when as I was taking her out of her car seat, she whispered sleepily, “Daddy, please don't drop me.” My immediate response was, “Sweetheart, Daddy would never drop you.” Right then, God Our Father revealed to me that He would never drop us – but we hit the ground, usually rear-end first, when we choose to let go of Him.
St. Joseph's role as Jesus’ foster-father is often overlooked. What an incredible mission for such an ordinary man to raise God's only Son. God wanted His Son to enjoy the same adulation children have shown their fathers since the dawn of creation because our earthly fathers are supposed to reflect the “awesomeness” of Our Father. I dare say that St. Joseph was Jesus' hero as He was growing up.
This Father's Day, my prayer for all fathers is that just as St. Joseph was to Jesus, my father was to me, and your father is or was to you, we become our children's heroes. I believe that is God's will for us fathers, and the true meaning behind Father's Day.
St. Joseph, Foster-Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ, pray for us.
The Mother of Mothers
Sunday, May 9th, is Mother's Day. Most of us know that, and hopefully every one of us will remember to honor Mom this weekend and let her know how much she's loved by her children. However, I bet the average Catholic is not aware that May is the month of Mary, the Mother of God, and in my heart, the “Mother of Mothers” (MOM). That's why we celebrate Mother's Day the second Sunday in May.
As a “born-again Catholic” (I came back to the Church in my thirties after I ditched the faith right out of high school), I've noticed from the back pew that devotion to the Mother of God has plummeted in the last 30 years. For proof, count how many people attend a Mary's Crowning event this month at your parish--- if yours still offers one.
I never understood the magnitude of a mother's love until I embraced for the first time what the saints have called a “true devotion to Mary.” St. Maximilian Kolbe, Priest and Martyr of Auschwitz and a champion of Mary, used to say, “The quickest way to get to the Heart of Jesus is through the Heart of Mary.” I propose the best way to know the Immaculate Heart of Mary is the Rosary.
I have to confess, once I became a teenager, my relationship with my mother was not the best. When I discovered the Rosary though, Mama Mary opened my eyes and showed me that my mother, Mama Leticia De Silva, was a saint. Actually, Doña Lety is a saint; a 91-year-old saint who stayed home to raise 9 children. After I began to pray the Rosary, I picked up the phone and call my mother to apologize. I apologized for all the times I cut school in high school, for all the times I kept her up until 3 am waiting for me on a Saturday night, and for all the times I didn't call or write after I left home for college. Te quiero mucho Mama.
In the same way we can better understand earthly fatherhood in relation to God as Our Heavenly Father, we can also better appreciate our mothers in our relationship with Mary as our Mother. Jesus Christ Himself honored His Mother and crowned her as the Queen of Heaven, and by virtue of His Incarnation, Mary became our Mom.
Let's waste no time. Let's pick up the Rosary and call our Mother.
As a “born-again Catholic” (I came back to the Church in my thirties after I ditched the faith right out of high school), I've noticed from the back pew that devotion to the Mother of God has plummeted in the last 30 years. For proof, count how many people attend a Mary's Crowning event this month at your parish--- if yours still offers one.
I never understood the magnitude of a mother's love until I embraced for the first time what the saints have called a “true devotion to Mary.” St. Maximilian Kolbe, Priest and Martyr of Auschwitz and a champion of Mary, used to say, “The quickest way to get to the Heart of Jesus is through the Heart of Mary.” I propose the best way to know the Immaculate Heart of Mary is the Rosary.
I have to confess, once I became a teenager, my relationship with my mother was not the best. When I discovered the Rosary though, Mama Mary opened my eyes and showed me that my mother, Mama Leticia De Silva, was a saint. Actually, Doña Lety is a saint; a 91-year-old saint who stayed home to raise 9 children. After I began to pray the Rosary, I picked up the phone and call my mother to apologize. I apologized for all the times I cut school in high school, for all the times I kept her up until 3 am waiting for me on a Saturday night, and for all the times I didn't call or write after I left home for college. Te quiero mucho Mama.
In the same way we can better understand earthly fatherhood in relation to God as Our Heavenly Father, we can also better appreciate our mothers in our relationship with Mary as our Mother. Jesus Christ Himself honored His Mother and crowned her as the Queen of Heaven, and by virtue of His Incarnation, Mary became our Mom.
Let's waste no time. Let's pick up the Rosary and call our Mother.
Eat & Run
My four-year-old daughter has a bad habit of leaving the table as soon as she finishes her meals. My wife says it's typical toddler behavior. I say it's plain rude. I tell my daughter Brianna if we go to a friend's house for supper and leave right after we eat without even saying thank you, our friends most likely won't invite us back to their house again.
When I attend Sunday Mass, I can't help to compare Brianna's table manners with the folks who leave church right after they receive the Eucharist. The view from the back pew after Communion is disheartening. The massive exodus of people leaves a packed church looking like the scene of a well-attended weekday Mass. As I reflected on this sad reality, I wondered: “If we wouldn't do that as a guest on somebody's house, why do we do it as worshipers in God's house?”
I'm convinced the answer is a lack of spiritual awareness caused by a crisis of our Catholic identity. Christians are the only believers who follow the teachings of a leader who claimed to be God made man, willingly suffered a cruel death at the hands of his creatures and then rose from the dead to prove it. Catholicism confesses that God, in the Person of Jesus Christ, is truly present Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity in a tiny wafer of unleavened bread, also known as the Blessed Sacrament.
What a concept.
I don't think people leave church right after Communion because they want to beat the parking lot rush, catch the beginning of the Panthers' game, or even avoid the “brief announcements” before the final blessing. They do that because they forget the little white host is not something, but Somebody. That Somebody is the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. Our belief in the True Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist is what makes us Catholics different from any other Christian denomination, and unfortunately it also separates us from them.
The word “Eucharist” comes from the Greek word “εὐχαριστία” (eucharistia), which means “thanksgiving.” The moment we receive Holy Communion is the best time to enjoy real intimacy with Jesus Christ in the same manner we enjoy a stimulating conversation with a loved one or a good friend after a meal. The last words the priest says before he distributes Communion are, “This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper.” The good news is no matter how many times we've left church prematurely before, the Lord always calls us to his supper. Maybe next time we receive Him, we'll do well to head back to our pew, close our eyes, and just say “Lord, thank you.”
When I attend Sunday Mass, I can't help to compare Brianna's table manners with the folks who leave church right after they receive the Eucharist. The view from the back pew after Communion is disheartening. The massive exodus of people leaves a packed church looking like the scene of a well-attended weekday Mass. As I reflected on this sad reality, I wondered: “If we wouldn't do that as a guest on somebody's house, why do we do it as worshipers in God's house?”
I'm convinced the answer is a lack of spiritual awareness caused by a crisis of our Catholic identity. Christians are the only believers who follow the teachings of a leader who claimed to be God made man, willingly suffered a cruel death at the hands of his creatures and then rose from the dead to prove it. Catholicism confesses that God, in the Person of Jesus Christ, is truly present Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity in a tiny wafer of unleavened bread, also known as the Blessed Sacrament.
What a concept.
I don't think people leave church right after Communion because they want to beat the parking lot rush, catch the beginning of the Panthers' game, or even avoid the “brief announcements” before the final blessing. They do that because they forget the little white host is not something, but Somebody. That Somebody is the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. Our belief in the True Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist is what makes us Catholics different from any other Christian denomination, and unfortunately it also separates us from them.
The word “Eucharist” comes from the Greek word “εὐχαριστία” (eucharistia), which means “thanksgiving.” The moment we receive Holy Communion is the best time to enjoy real intimacy with Jesus Christ in the same manner we enjoy a stimulating conversation with a loved one or a good friend after a meal. The last words the priest says before he distributes Communion are, “This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper.” The good news is no matter how many times we've left church prematurely before, the Lord always calls us to his supper. Maybe next time we receive Him, we'll do well to head back to our pew, close our eyes, and just say “Lord, thank you.”
My View from the Back Pew
I made a Lenten resolution to attend daily Mass for every one of the 40 days. Besides giving something up, I wanted to give something back to God – not that God needs anything from us, but that our worship to Him truly benefits us.As a typical Catholic, I always try to sit in the back of the church. I've always been drawn to the view from the back pew.
As I embraced my new resolution, I immediately noticed an over-abundance of gray-haired folks devoutly participating in the sacred mysteries of our faith. I asked myself: “Where are the rest of the young people?” Then I realized that at 45, I am more a part of the graying armada sitting in front of me than I’d thought.
I decided to turn back the clock, and remembered what went through my head when I was in my early 20s. As soon as I graduated from high school, I forgot about Catholicism. The Catholic faith was not “relevant” to everyday life, I thought. Going to church on Sundays, much less during the week, was out of the question. Then I reflected on what brought me back to the faith at age 31: the encouragement of my 40-something sibling, Fred. My brother had just had a near-death experience, complete with a proverbial “I-saw-my-whole-life-flash-before-my-eyes” moment. He became a changed man, and was determined for me to change as well.I'm convinced that middle-aged church-goers like myself – old enough to be parents, aunts or uncles to this new generation of Catholics – offer youths a more immediate and direct influence than anyone else.
I propose that just as Fred told me 15 years ago, there are three habits that could help entice our young Catholics to get back in the pews.First, encourage them to spend just 15 minutes daily alone with God at church in front of the tabernacle. There is something about sitting quietly in the presence of God that makes us keep coming back for more. It's a great time to ask Jesus what He wants us to do for Him, instead what we want Him to do for us. Mother Teresa used to say, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.”
The second habit builds on the first. As we strive to forge a closer relationship with Jesus Christ, He normally reveals to us areas in our life where we need forgiveness and healing. Invite young people to go to confession and avail themselves of God’s mercy.The third way to inject life into Catholic youths’ spirituality is devotion to Mary. There is no better way to show devotion to Mary than to pray the Rosary. The best explanation I've ever heard about it was that the Gospel mysteries are the movie, and the “Our Father” and the “Hail Mary” are its soundtrack. The fastest and quickest way to get to the heart of Jesus is through the heart of Mary.
Ultimately, the best way to make Catholicism appealing to young adults is to lead by example. And, it is precisely the example of the folks who are faithful to God and the sacramental life of the Church that we must imitate to influence the lives of our peers. I'm sure the “old-timers” who crowd our parishes for daily Mass are responsible for praying a lot of people like me and my brother Fred back to the faith. Let's not forget that one can never be too old or too young to pursue holiness
As I embraced my new resolution, I immediately noticed an over-abundance of gray-haired folks devoutly participating in the sacred mysteries of our faith. I asked myself: “Where are the rest of the young people?” Then I realized that at 45, I am more a part of the graying armada sitting in front of me than I’d thought.
I decided to turn back the clock, and remembered what went through my head when I was in my early 20s. As soon as I graduated from high school, I forgot about Catholicism. The Catholic faith was not “relevant” to everyday life, I thought. Going to church on Sundays, much less during the week, was out of the question. Then I reflected on what brought me back to the faith at age 31: the encouragement of my 40-something sibling, Fred. My brother had just had a near-death experience, complete with a proverbial “I-saw-my-whole-life-flash-before-my-eyes” moment. He became a changed man, and was determined for me to change as well.I'm convinced that middle-aged church-goers like myself – old enough to be parents, aunts or uncles to this new generation of Catholics – offer youths a more immediate and direct influence than anyone else.
I propose that just as Fred told me 15 years ago, there are three habits that could help entice our young Catholics to get back in the pews.First, encourage them to spend just 15 minutes daily alone with God at church in front of the tabernacle. There is something about sitting quietly in the presence of God that makes us keep coming back for more. It's a great time to ask Jesus what He wants us to do for Him, instead what we want Him to do for us. Mother Teresa used to say, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.”
The second habit builds on the first. As we strive to forge a closer relationship with Jesus Christ, He normally reveals to us areas in our life where we need forgiveness and healing. Invite young people to go to confession and avail themselves of God’s mercy.The third way to inject life into Catholic youths’ spirituality is devotion to Mary. There is no better way to show devotion to Mary than to pray the Rosary. The best explanation I've ever heard about it was that the Gospel mysteries are the movie, and the “Our Father” and the “Hail Mary” are its soundtrack. The fastest and quickest way to get to the heart of Jesus is through the heart of Mary.
Ultimately, the best way to make Catholicism appealing to young adults is to lead by example. And, it is precisely the example of the folks who are faithful to God and the sacramental life of the Church that we must imitate to influence the lives of our peers. I'm sure the “old-timers” who crowd our parishes for daily Mass are responsible for praying a lot of people like me and my brother Fred back to the faith. Let's not forget that one can never be too old or too young to pursue holiness
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