Deacon Dan Pallo - Funeral Homily

Yesterday our pastor, Fr. Kenny, joined by three priest concelebrants -- Fr. Tom Connery, Fr. John McCracken, and Fr. Glen Baptiste -- conducted the funeral of Deacon Dan Pallo. Our priests were joined by the parish deacons as we all asked our Lord to take Deacon Dan into His loving and eternal embrace. 

Here's perhaps my favorite photo of Dan and his wife, Eleanor, taken at our home back in 2008.

I was blessed that Dan asked me to preach at his funeral, and I trust my words were both fitting and proper, and also provided some solace to Dan's extended family. My homily follows:

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Readings: Lamentations 3:26,28-29b,31,41,58; Psalm 23; Romans 14:7-9,10c-12; Matthew 11:25-30

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Oh, how we will miss this good man, this brother deacon, this servant of God.

But no one will miss Dan as much as this wonderfully extended family that he cherished so very much. To you, Dee and Karry and Amy, and to Dan’s stepchildren, whom he loved as his own – Rita, Tom, John, Randy, Kim, and Kurt – and to the grandchildren and great-grandchildren…so many names, my aging brain can't hold them all. Yes, to all of you, my brother deacons and I join with Fathers Kenny, Tom, John, and Glen and extend our heartfelt condolences, as you mourn the loss of this remarkable man who was such an important part of your lives.

I first met Dan at a meeting the day he arrived here at St. Vincent de Paul. Our pastor at the time, Father Peter Sagorski, had invited Dan to attend the meeting and in walked this large man. Asked to tell us about himself, he quietly and humbly revealed his life in about three sentences. Oh, yes, he also mentioned his wife, Eleanor.

My first thought? “I’ve got to get to know this guy.”

Yes, we became friends. We even worked together at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen for many years. But we weren’t – how can I put this? – we weren't buddy friends. We didn’t get together for a beer or golf. No, our personal friendship was different, because the two of us were so very different. I guess you could call us spiritual friends. When we talked or got together, we inevitably found ourselves talking of our ministry as deacons.

Too often I would get all wrapped up in the “stuff” of ministry – what we do and how we do it. But Dan tended to focus on the “who” of our ministry. And, yes, we helped each other, but in truth, Dan was the greater helper. He’d likely disagree, but he’d be wrong. You see, Dan helped me relearn that being a deacon was to be a servant, to be like Jesus, to serve everyone God placed in my life.

I chose the readings we just heard because they often came up in our conversations and also helped me recall Dan as a deacon and friend. Indeed, those words we heard from Matthew 11 described him so well:

“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourself.”

In so many ways, these words of Our Lord defined Dan’s ministry and his life.

Joined with the Lord, throughout much of his life Dan carried half of that yoke on his broad shoulders – raising those three girls on his own, often overwhelmed, but always being the father they needed. He did so without complaint, for he, too, had learned meekness – and know that meekness is not weakness, far from it. God’s call to be meek is really a call to strength – to turn from oneself, to look to the other in need, and then to act. 

Note, too, that Jesus joins meekness and humility. I’ve always believed humility is our foundational virtue. For without humility, the other virtues become what today is called “virtue signaling” – simply a means to let others see how very good we are. Dan didn’t signal his virtues. In his humility he just lived them, quietly and consistently. For humility is merely acceptance of the reality of who we are. And Dan understood that.

That was how he lived his life and how he approached his death: “and you will find rest for yourself.” Dan’s death was one of pure acceptance, happily accepting the gift God now offered him. How many of us could face death with such acceptance? How many of us, when it comes to our own lives, can believe so completely the words we utter daily?

 “…Thy will be done, one earth as it is in heaven.”

Yes, when it comes to our own lives, so often we like to place our will above God’s.

Dan’s daughter, Karry, collected over 5 pages of family thoughts on her father – from kids and step-kids and grandkids – words that revealed so much about who Dan was. And yet, everything I read, all the wonderful family stories, merely reinforced what I already knew.

One thing stood out: how Dan quietly taught his family – and taught me as well – not so much by his words but by his actions. Let me give you an example. In our 2^nd reading Paul admonished the Romans:

“Why then do you judge your brother? Or you, why do you look down on your brother? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God”

One day, some years ago, Dan reminded me of the meaning of those words. I often assisted him with the Catholics Returning Home program he had introduced to the parish. 

Dan got to know the participants well, while I would just come in occasionally and conduct a session. One day, as I was speaking on the Eucharist, one of the participants continued asking very negative questions. I answered each question with a smile, but found myself thinking, “Why does this guy want to return to the Church? He doesn’t seem to like it very much.”

After everyone had left, while Dan and I were talking about the group, I said something to the effect, “Yes, a nice bunch of folks…except maybe for the grumpy old man with all the negative questions.”

Dan just smiled and said, “How did St. Paul put it? ‘Why do you judge and look down on your brother?’” 

As you might expect, I had no answer. So, Dan waited a moment, let it sink in, then told me:

“Yeah, during the first session with this group, I felt the same about him, grumpy and negative. So, I asked him to stay a moment to tell me his story.

“He was treated badly by a pastor years ago, and it drove him from the Church. His wife, a devout Catholic, prayed for him constantly.

“She died recently, and the last thing she asked of him was to come back to the faith. That’s where he is now, coming back, asking questions no one had ever answered before. Thank you for answering them so well.”

Did you notice how Dan handled me? It took me a while to recognize what he'd done. First he chewed me out, but then he thanked me. And that, brothers and sisters, was one of Dan’s strengths. 

I like to think I helped him as well. Once, while discussing aspects of our ministry, he said to me, “I know I’m not a very good preacher…”

I interrupted him: “Dan, we’re called to be servants, to preach, to teach, and to heal; and believe me, you teach a lot of folks how to serve, how to live the Christian life, leading them to God’s healing grace. Those are God’s gifts. Be thankful for them,” 

Yes, we taught each other.

Then there’s our first reading, from the Book of Lamentations. I think I can take credit for introducing Dan to that little book. Lamentations is not very popular because it’s filled with anguish over the destruction of Jerusalem in 587 BC. Long attributed to Jeremiah, modern scholars argue about that. But modern scholars seem to argue about everything.

Anyway, each of its 5 chapters is a poem or hymn, and the suffering man described in our reading from chapter 3 is often seen as a kind of foreshadowing of the passion and death of Our Lord. The message? If in our worldly sufferings, we recognize and confess our sins we can then rejoice and share in the glory of Jesus’s Resurrection. 

As I thought of Dan’s life, and especially his final days, the words of chapter 3 came to mind, God’s Word filed with hope for Dan and us.  Listen again:

“It is good to hope in silence for the LORD’s deliverance, for Him to save…when its weight lies heavy…yet there is hope.”

I was reminded of the loving care Dan provided for Eleanor during her long illness. Yes, “the weight of life often lies heavy, yet there is hope." Dan's loving care for Eleanor taught me a lot about caregiving, something I'm involved in today. And yes, we accept the gift of hope, reminding us that the virtue of hope is merely our certainty that God always fulfills His promises.

Those words were followed by a word to each of us:

“…though grief comes to us, He takes pity, according to the abundance of His mercy.”

Yes, we grieve, but God’s mercy, His love, knows no bounds. And because of God's mercy our grief can be touched with joy.

Then, finally, despite the hatreds and divisions we encounter in our world today, we’re told how to share God’s love in the midst of it all:

“Let us lift up our hearts as well as our hands toward God in heaven! You pleaded my case, Lord, you redeemed my life.”

Yes, indeed, we can lift up our hearts and hands today, thanking God for the life of this good man, this servant who loved God and His people. And so, we praise God for Deacon Daniel Pallo, and for each of you, and for me…for we have been redeemed.

Thanks be to God.

Mother's Day

I've always appreciated the final verses of the Book of Proverbs, words that define the perfect wife and mother. And so, on this Mother's Day, I salute my late Mom, Martha McCarthy, and my Wife, Diane McCarthy, for fulfilling these prophetic words:

She is clothed with strength and dignity, and laughs at the days to come. She opens her mouth in wisdom; kindly instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband, too, praises her: Many are the women of proven worth, but you have excelled them all. Charm is deceptive and beauty fleeting; the woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Acclaim her for the work of her hands, and let her deeds praise her at the city gates. (Proverbs 31:25-31)

Thank you, Mom, for being you. And thank you, Diane, for always caring for me. Now it's my turn.

Homily: Tuesday, 2nd Week of Lent

Readings: Is 1:10, 16-20; Ps 50; Mt 23:1-12

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I have to admit, listening to today’s Gospel passage from Matthew always causes me to cringe a little.

Jesus, of course, was talking about the Pharisees and Scribes and their hypocrisy, and warning the people, especially His disciples, about following their example. As we see throughout the Gospels, these spiritual leaders of the Jewish people didn’t really hide their hypocrisy too well. It wasn’t just obvious to Jesus, but we suspect everyone saw it.

Indeed, Jesus offers us a sad litany of their offenses, everything from grasping honor and privileges for themselves to making life unbelievably difficult for others. But Our Lord is also letting His disciples know that they, too, can fall prey to these same failings, and so the warning extends to them and across the centuries to us as well.

But there’s one sin, and I think we can safely call all these failings sins, that strikes me with the greatest force. It’s when Jesus says, “For they preach but they do not practice.”

You see, as a deacon, a man once declared by my bishop to be a true “servant of God” – Sean O’Malley actually said that to all of us at our ordination. Anyway, when I hear Jesus say this about those Pharisees, I find myself wanting to hide behind that “seat of honor” over there. It’s a very obvious seat, isn’t it? Comfortable too. Yes, indeed, no matter how crowded the Mass, I’ve always got a great seat. Heck, the parish even gives me a parking place, so the old deacon doesn’t have to tire himself out.

But it’s that preach and practice thing that really troubles me. I’m preaching right now, and I’ll probably tell you how to live your lives during this season of Lent. I do that often enough.

And yet, like you, I am a sinner. Most of the faults I address in homilies, along with the remedies I preach, have their source in my own behavior, or in that of those I love and know best. Yep, it’s always easier to identify the sins of family and friends, isn’t it? We know them so very well, just as they know us.

Anyway, as I dig deeper into my own conscience to uncover my faults, I realize how different I am from the man I was 30, 40, or 60 years ago. I guess my spiritual life, my struggle toward some degree of holiness, has actually progressed, not as far as I’d like, and certainly far below the Lord’s hopes…

On a wall in our home, hangs a rather large portrait of Jesus – it’s the Divine Mercy image – painted by a Polish nun and given to me by a friend, a Polish priest. But sometimes, when I glance at it, Jesus seems to be shaking His head at me…Maybe it’s just my aging vision, or my active imagination, but I think it’s more than that. I suspect He’s just showing me I have a long way to go.

Lent, though, is a good time for introspection, a time to take a hard look at ourselves – a time to let God reform us, and transform us, into His ways. It’s also a time for simplicity, a time to turn away from the busyness of the world and its false attractions and promises.

Perhaps most importantly, it’s a time for sacrifice. So often we try to avoid sacrifice because it usually includes suffering. And yet it’s there, in our sacrifices and sufferings, where Jesus Christ comes to meet us. It’s there, as we struggle to bear our everyday crosses, that He comes to us and carries them with us. Jesus never said that living the Christian life would be easy; but He did promise we wouldn’t be alone. He would join us, be there with us.

Yes, I suppose I’m guilty of a touch of hypocrisy, but thanks to Jesus’ words, at least I know it, and can repent. Maybe some of those Scribes and Pharisees also came to recognize their hypocrisy when they listened to Jesus, and perhaps they too repented. I certainly hope so.

Perhaps as they heard Jesus' word, they also reflected on God's word from Isaiah, one they would have known well:

“Wash yourselves clean!...[and] set things right”

And how do we do that? We change, for that’s what repentance means: to re-think our lives, to live a new life in Jesus Christ.

“Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan's plea, defend the widow.”

Yes, indeed, God and His Word never change.

So let me leave you with another thought: Don’t be too critical of deacons and priests, of bishops and popes, for we, too, are human. We, too, are sinners and subject to the whole range of human failings.

How much better simply to pray for us, as we pray for you.

Homily: Tuesday, 1st Week of Lent

Readings: Is 55:10-11; Ps 34; Mt 6:6-15

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The “Our Father” is likely the prayer we pray the most. And the version we just heard from Matthew’s Gospel is the more complete version, the one with which we’re all familiar. Yes, indeed, the Our Father – or the Lord’s Prayer – gets a lot of coverage in our lives as Christians.

It was certainly among the first prayers I learned as a child. Our mother taught us the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory Be, and the brief Guardian Angel prayer-poem. We learned them all by heart, back when we were still smart and could remember things well. And I expect most of you had similar experiences as children.

And most of us still pray the Our Father daily. Of course, we pray it during every Mass, and each time you pray the Rosary, you pray the Our Father six more times. Depending on how often you pray, it probably finds its way into other parts of your prayer life. I know it’s my last prayer before I go to sleep each evening. There’s just something soothing and all-encompassing about this prayer that Jesus taught to His disciples.

How did Isaiah put it in our first reading?

“So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me void, but shall do my will…”

And because of this, because it’s the prayer of Jesus, it comes from the mouth of God and must have special meaning for all of us.

For me the very fact that Jesus asks us to call God our “Father” is particularly wonderful, especially for the Baptized who are His adopted children. That's a very special, very personal relationship that perhaps we don’t appreciate as we should. 

Jesus goes on to remind us that the Father’s name is holy, beyond anything we can imagine. He then includes the truth that our God’s will rules the entirety of creation, fulfilled in both heaven and on earth. A nice reminder that perhaps we should suppress our sinful wills and unite our wills to His.

Those few words should also generate a deep sense of humility within us. I’ve always believed humility to be the foundational virtue, without which no other virtue can exist. Humility is simply a manifestation of the reality of existence, an acceptance of the vast difference between God and me. It also helps me understand that I am no better than anyone else created by God.

The prayer then turns to a plea, asking the Father to provide all that we need to live His gift, this gift of life. Yes, we ask for “our daily bread” that which sustains us physically, but more than that, even spiritually, for Eucharistic Bread also sustains us, and provides the indwelling of God promised by Jesus Himself.

We then beg our Father for forgiveness, don’t we? But it comes with a qualification, doesn’t it?

“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

How many of us consider the depth of these words? That we tell God not to forgive us if we fail to forgive others…for that’s exactly what we’re saying.

Now I’m not a priest. I’m just a deacon, a servant, but a lot of folks seem to confess a lot to me – not in a sacramental confession, just a human one. Most often they don’t realize they’re confessing. You see, they just talk to me and in doing so complain about all kinds of things. But so often it’s really about their anger, anger about something their kids or grandkids have done, or something a neighbor said or did, something they tell me they just “can’t” forgive. Of course, in truth it’s just something they won’t forgive, and I tell them so. They usually don’t like that.

I find it interesting that immediately afterwards this is the part of the prayer on which Jesus focuses. Perhaps Jesus sees it as the most important part since it can have such an effect on our salvation. I get the sense He wants to ensure we understand what we’re praying. Forgiveness is easy, brothers and sisters. After all it’s what we sinners expect from God and in our efforts to become more Christlike, God simply calls us to do the same.

Maybe that would be a good Lenten task for us today. Is there someone in need of your forgiveness? Don’t delay. Offer it to them. Or perhaps you need another’s forgiveness for something you’ve said or done. Humble yourself and ask for it. After all, by doing so you give them an opportunity to become more Christlike by forgiving you.

I think that’s enough.

God’s peace…

 

Courts, Judges, Lawyers, et al.

Note: Yesterday I wrote an earlier version of this post, but suddenly it disappeared. I know not why -- likely something stupid done by yours truly. So I've tried to duplicate below what I had written earlier.

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Okay, let me begin by apologizing to any lawyers who might read this. In truth I really don’t care much for the legal profession, despite the number of lawyers I count among my friends. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy spending time with my attorney friends and talking over all that’s interesting, until they inevitably slide down into the legal stuff and get all lawyerly on me. Then I want to throw up, and thank God that I never had a hankering to go to law school. Fortunately, friendship usually trumps the churning in my stomach and life goes on.

I bring this up today because of the news of the Supreme Court’s decision on President Trump’s use of tariffs. I couldn’t help but recall the nasty comment about lawyers from Henry IV, Part 2. There Shakespeare put words into the mouth of an unsavory character, Dick the Butcher, who supported Jack Cade. Cade, a lawless rebel and likely anarchist, not only disliked laws, but also all those who enacted them or passed judgments based on them. Jack's really an early predecessor of today's leftists, who share most of his beliefs.

For Shakespeare, Dick's words were obvious satire, and did not reflect the bard's beliefs. And yet, they've become immortal and no doubt have been inwardly enjoyed by many normally law-abiding folks who have been ill-used by lawyers. Dick's statement:

"The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers."

 ...certainly not a very Christian sentiment, but we have no evidence that either Dick or Jack were practicing Christians. And as an ordained permanent deacon in the Church, I will neither applaud nor tolerate such a vile wish. I desire nobody's death and pray only for the salvation of all. 

But Shakespeare's brief comment certainly struck a chord with a lot of people over the centuries, something we cannot appreciate if we lack a sense of humor. Yes, indeed, Dick the Butcher's words have generated quite a few laughs, even from lawyers. 

I mention this because of something I heard on a local talk show yesterday as I was driving to the store. Addressing the tariff decision by the Supreme Court a caller said, "I have only one comment. Let's kill all the lawyers," and then hung up. The host and I both chuckled.

For those of you who read only this blog -- which would be very sad -- the U. S. Supreme Court, in a 6 to 3 decision, declared that President Trump's broad-based use of tariffs was not permitted by the legislation upon which he based his authority. The Court agreed that the law allows the president to "regulate" trade, but stated that such regulation does not include across-the-board tariffs, an authority granted only to Congress by the Constitution. There are other complications, for example, the law's understanding of what constitutes an emergency, and lots of other legal stuff that most citizens, including me, neither care about nor understand.

My problem with the Court's decision involves its unwillingness (or sheer inability) to address the consequences of the decision. Of course, three justices, all Trump-deranged liberals, inevitably go against the president on any major decision. But such political hacks are hardly true justices. (Just listen to Justice Katanji Brown Jackson or read her decisions...it's painful.) The Court actually prides itself on ignoring the consequences of its decisions, regardless of its effect on the economy or foreign relations. I suppose if a decision increased the probability of nuclear war, they'd congratulate themselves.

Anyway, the dissenting comments by Justices Kavanaugh, Alito, and Thomas are worth reading and, at least to me, display a clearer and wiser understanding of the issue. As for the others, please do not join Dick the Butcher and wish them dead. Our justices have already received enough death threats from those on the far left who, because they are unable to defend their beliefs, just prefer to kill their opponents. Far better to pray for them all, asking God to teach them the difference between law and justice. Pray, too, that they come to understand the importance of the Judeo-Christian foundational moral values upon which our nation came into being and sustain it still.

God's peace and justice.

Reflection on Salvation: Life in the Spirit Seminar

Note: A  few days ago I gave a reflection on Salvation at a parish "Life in the Spirit" Seminar. I'd given the talk on several previous occasions but made quite a few changes this year. Anyway, my talk follows. And a warning, the reflection is long, a half-hour long, so no snoozing. (Please pardon any typos. No time to proofread today.)

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Praise God! Praise Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!

When Deacon Dick Stevens accosted me and asked me to speak at this Life in the Spirit Seminar, I said, “Well…Okay. But what do I have to do?” His response? “Talk about ‘Salvation.’”

My first thought? “Well, that’s a nice concise, well-defined topic – let’s see, our sole reason for being, the entirety of our human existence.“

Then he said something like, “No more than 30 minutes.” Of course, it was more than month away, so I really didn’t think much about it. But a few days ago, I realized time was running out. Then I remembered speaking on salvation at one of these seminars some years ago.

Sadly, though, my home PC died a while back and I lost a lot of my homilies and talks, including my earlier talks on salvation. All I could find was a brief outline. So, I had no choice and turned to the Holy Spirit, praying for inspiration. I figure if anyone can give us the Word of Salvation He can.

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I’ll begin with a couple of questions.

Do you believe that God will save everyone?

OK, let me rephrase it.

Do you believe God can save everyone?

Ah, that’s better.

After all, we can’t deny that all things are possible for God.

After all, we pray for that all the time, don’t we?

At the conclusion of yesterday’s Mass, Fr. Glen prayed the “Prayer after Communion.” Yet, how often do we really pay attention to the words? Here’s what he prayed in our name:

O God, who have willed that we be partakers
in the one Bread and the one Chalice,
grant us, we pray, so to live
that, made one in Christ,
we may joyfully bear fruit
for the salvation of the world.
Through Christ our Lord.

And we all responded with, “Amen.”

Don’t you just love that?

“…that…we may joyfully bear fruit for the salvation of the world.”

And yet, how many of us look at the world joyfully, especially today, and want God to save everyone? Do any of you pray the Rosary? Recall that little prayer we say after each decade? Join me…

“Oh, my Jesus, forgive us our sins and save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls to Heaven, especially those in most need of Thy mercy.”

“Lead all souls to heaven…” Yep, we pray for that, too, don’t we? The irony here is that most Christians really don’t believe that could ever happen…sort of an “OK, God, yeah, You can do it; but You won’t.” If we really think that way, why do we pray for it?

You see, we should believe that God will find a way to bring everyone to salvation. Wouldn’t that be wonderful. Will He really do that? I haven’t a clue, simply because I’m not God. We do, however, know that God wants this. As St. Peter reminded us:

“The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard ‘delay,’ but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.” [2 Pt 3:9]

And Paul, too, writing to Timothy, tells us:

“This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth” [1 Tim 2:3-4]

I find it interesting that Peter joins salvation with coming to “repentance”, while Paul connects salvation with coming to “knowledge of the truth.” But I really think they’re the same thing. For Paul, the overwhelming truth about humanity is that we are sinners. And what do sinners need? Exactly what Peter says, “Repentance.”

I begin with this just to remind you (and me) that God is infinitely more powerful than we could ever imagine. You and I, trapped in time and space, too often place our God in a similar box. We know He creates, redeems, forgives, loves…yes, His greatness, His power, His love…it’s all far beyond our comprehension.

God created us in His image and likeness, but that’s so very hard to live up to. How can we? So we instead create God into our image and turn Him into a big version of ourselves. And  then we read the Gospels and all those passages, the words of Jesus, that seem to tell us a lot of folks won’t be saved.

How did the risen Jesus put it to the Apostles? 

“Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved; whoever does not believe will be condemned” [Mk 16:16] 

That seems pretty clear, doesn’t it? And Jesus says similar things elsewhere in the Gospels. One thing we know for sure, again because Jesus told us:

“I am the way, the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me” [Jn 14:6].

And so, Jesus is the means of salvation. Does that eliminate all but Christians? What’s it all mean? For me it means two things:

1. I don’t know the mind of God, so all I can do is struggle to do as He tells us: “Repent, and believe in the Gospel.” Repentance and faith.

2. He wants all to be saved, so I must do what ever I can to lead others to the saving grace the Holy Spirit will shower on anyone who comes to Jesus, through Him.

In truth, when we get right down to the ditty-gritty, it means something different to each one of us. You and I are each on a unique journey to salvation.

Let me begin by describing my own journey to salvation, to life in the Spirit, a journey that began long ago, but reached its peak when I married Diane. Dear Diane, brought up a Southern Baptist, had spent time among the Methodists, and during her college years settled in with the Pentecostals. It was then that she experienced a Baptism in the Holy Spirit.

By the time we married, she had converted to Catholicism. When I proposed to her, she asked, "You know, I speak in tongues...does that bother you?"

A few years later, living in Monterey, California, she encouraged me to attend a Life in the Spirit Seminar put on by our parish’s charismatic prayer group. And not long after that I experienced my own vivid Baptism in the Spirit, an event that completely changed me and ultimately led me to the diaconate.

Anyway, about five years after this, I guess it was about 45 years ago, Diane and I and three of our little ones (I think she was pregnant with Brendan, number four) were enjoying a day at the San Diego Zoo when we were approached by a couple of teens, a boy and a girl.

They were members of a strange cult, popular in Southern California at the time. As I recall, they called themselves the “Children of God”. They handed me one of their tracts and then the boy asked me, “Are you saved?”

I simply replied, “Yes, I hope so, but I’m still working on it.”

I don’t think they knew what to make of that response, and so the girl said, “If you’re saved, you’re saved. That’s all there is to it.”

This, of course, was a challenge, so told them I was just relying on the Holy Spirit and following St. Paul‘s advice to the Philippians:

“…work out your salvation with fear and trembling” [Phil 2:12].

I was used to coming to the Spirit for help, so I did, and He led me to Jesus’ words in Luke

"For the holy Spirit will teach you at that moment what you should say” [Lk 12:12]

and again in John:

"He will teach you everything…” [Jn 14:26]

In effect the Holy Spirit told oly Spirit tols Hme not to be consumed by worry. And one day in prayer I heard these words, heard them just as clearly you’re hearing my words now:

“…Stay close to me,” he said.

Anyway, the boy couldn’t help himself and said, “Well, Paul was wrong. Jesus told us not to fear.” They then scooted off to accost someone else.

Of course, Paul wasn’t wrong; they were. St. Paul and Jesus were speaking of two very different fears. Paul wasn’t speaking of the servile fear of the slave, or the fear of punishment. He was speaking, instead, of a reverential fear that moves us to do God’s will because of our love for Him.

It’s that miraculous gift of the Holy Spirit, the “fear of the Lord” that is a true reflection of reality. It’s a sense of reverence and awe at the majesty of God and a healthy revulsion at the very thought of sinning against Him. But the Incarnation alters things a bit. By becoming one of us Jesus narrows the vast gulf between God and us. He becomes our brother.

In Scripture we’re told not to fear again and again. But it’s a different kind of fear: a fear of the things of this world. This is the fear we must abandon, for it keeps us from a personal and trusting relationship with Jesus Christ. If we’re afraid of the world, how can we trust in Jesus? And so many today are afraid. Let me give you an example.

On the evening of September 11, 2001, I had an appointment to bless a parishioner’s home. We were personal friends. When I arrived John asked me to speak with his wife, who wouldn’t leave the kitchen. The events of that day had crippled her with fear, the wrong kind, a fear of the world and its evils. Her fear was almost paralytic. We talked and prayed and turned to God’s Word, and her fears eased a bit. But it was weeks before she left her house and even went to church.

We’ve all experienced fear to some extent; it’s part of the human condition. As a Navy pilot in wartime, I encountered my share of scary situations, times when fear could easily rise up and take control. Of course, one good thing about being a pilot in bad times is that you're so busy, just trying to keep the aircraft flying and staying alive. I really didn’t have time to fear. That came later.

But I always turned to the Holy Spirit in trust, and told Him, “It’s yours, guide me, lead me.” And do you know something? He always did.

But what does all this talk about fear have to do with our salvation? Actually, quite a lot. My mom and dad ran a little Bible Study of sorts every Saturday morning. Mt dad, the colonel, called them "staff meetings." At one of those sessions, Mom asked us: “How do you get to heaven?”

I was probably 10 or 11. My older brother and I had never thought much about this, so we gave rather standard answers: obey the commandments; go to Church on Sunday; give part of our allowance to the Church. I think I added, “Don’t pick on your little brother.” All practical answers, but not very useful. We really hadn’t a clue.

Mom finally said, “Boys, you can’t earn your way to heaven. That’s not how it works.”

She opened our family Bible and turned to Luke’s Gospel, and read this passage from chapter 23:

Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us.”

The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, “Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation?

And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.”

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

I’ve always found this to be one of the more fascinating passages in the Gospels.

Two criminals. Were they thieves or murderers? We don’t know. Luke simply says they were criminals and apparently they believed they deserved their punishment.

The first simply mocked Jesus:  If you’re the Messiah, save yourself and us. Did he believe Jesus was the Messiah? No, not likely.

The other criminal has a name, Dismas. Actually, his name appears in an apocryphal books, among them, The Gospel of Nicodemus and it seemed to stick. And so, we’ll use it. Dismas utters only three sentences, but three remarkable sentences. The first:

“Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation?

In responding to the other criminal, he simultaneously responds to the Holy Spirit who has blessed him here, in his last moments of life, with a gift: fear of the Lord.

Yes, the Spirit is within him, the indwelling that Paul tells us will lead us to salvation. Dismas then makes an act of contrition, an act of true repentance

“…we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.”

Indeed, Dismas confesses -- we have sinned and are receiving a just, earthy punishment -- but this Jesus, He is no criminal, for He is something much greater than any of us.

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And here Dismas knows he’s been forgiven, even before Jesus says a word`. You see, the Spirit has also given him the gift of faith. He knows that Jesus Christ is King and redeemer of the world. And he simply asks for salvation.

Jesus’ reply is brief, dramatic, all-encompassing, a divine, on-the-spot canonization:

“Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

There is some conflict about this statement: the placement of the comma before or after “today.” But I prefer the way it's stated above.

Do you see the process here, what leads Jesus to call Dismas to salvation? Faith, acceptance of our sinfulness, true repentance, love of God…It’s really all of one piece, wrapped up in those three theological virtues of faith, hope and love.

Faith, we are told is a gift, a gratuitous gift; and I think we can all accept this, since in our sinfulness we certainly don’t deserve any gifts. But this is where the Holy Spirit steps in, for He is the gift-giver. He’s the source of that desire, that need for God, that movement within us, which opens us to the gift.

He rends our hearts; He tears open the human heart so Father and Son can dwell there. Speaking with the twelve the night before He died, Jesus told them:

“Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him” [Jn 14:23].

This indwelling is the work of the Holy Spirit, for Jesus had already told the apostles:

“The Father…will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth…it remains with you, and will be in you” [Jn 14:16-17].

Yes, the Spirit, the Advocate, does God’s work in the world, and He does God’s work in each of us. I sometimes refer to the Holy Spirit as God’s Workhorse. It’s just a metaphor. He does God’s work in the world, the behind-the-scenes manifestation of God’s Presence.

Every Sunday, we come together and proclaim the Nicene Creed aloud, confirming the totality of our faith. And in doing so we utter those words:

“I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life…”

What life? Well, the Creed doesn’t qualify it, or give exceptions. The Holy Spirit is the giver of all life. He is the giver of our bodily, earthly, material life and the giver of eternal life. He stands abreast that path to salvation, calling us, directing us.

And so, with this in mind, let’s return to Dismas. Filled with the Spirit, and with the hope He offers, he’s moved to confess to Jesus. As my mother used to say, “Faith fuels our hope.” And hope moves us, drives us, despite our fears, despite everything the world throws at us.

Did Dismas fear? Well, fear of death might be there, but I think that was now behind him. There he was surrounded by those who despised him. And yet it was all overshadowed, crushed by the love of Jesus from the Cross. Only Jesus showed him love.

Because he had accepted the Spirit’s gift of faith, a supernatural gift that dissolves all fear, that instills hope, a gift that calls us to trust, that calls us to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

It was through his acceptance of that gift that the Holy Spirit moved Dismas to repentance, gave him hope, allowed him to accept the forgiveness Jesus offered and revealed to him the divine person of Jesus...one divine gift after another, all leading to salvation.

Do you see what happened here? The Spirit revealed several things to Dismas:

• He is a sinner, but forgiveness is available to him; he need only repent;
• The Lord, Jesus Christ, is the very source of forgiveness;
• His hope is real, forgiveness is his. Salvation awaits.

He believes, he repents, he’s forgiven, he loves, and he is saved.

Through this simple process of faith, repentance, forgiveness, and love Jesus offers Dismas the gift of salvation:

“…today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Salvation is his eternal reward. But that’s not all. There’s also a temporal reward. He adds the word, “today.” And so, today it happens for you, today here in this world…yes, today becomes an eternal day in paradise.

That’s what I learned from my mom when I was probably 11 years old.

Now, some Christians consider salvation a one-time experience in the life of the Christian – that we need only accept Jesus in faith as our Lord and Savior and we are saved…no matter what

Such a teaching, however, ignores the reality of human life, of human nature itself. It also ignores a lot of what Jesus told us. You see, sad as it is, you and I remain sinners, constantly in need of repentance and forgiveness, called to love until our last breath, called, as Paul reminds us, to work out our salvation with fear and trembling.

Salvation is a gift, one demanding more than intellectual and emotional acceptance. It demands continual acceptance, confronting us with a choice: We can reject the gift, turn away from God, either out of fear of the worldly consequences, or out of despair because of the magnitude of our sinfulness. Or we can accept the gift and turn to Him in love.

This demands a radical change, an abandonment of the life that precedes it. Once again Dismas shows us the way. Dismas ignores the other criminal, he who mocks God, the one Satan used to turn him from Jesus, and though his sins are many, he doesn’t despair.

The Spirit had revealed to him what Jesus had taught his disciples when He referred to Himself as the Good Shepherd:

“I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” [Jn 10:9-10].

Understanding this, Dismas turns to Jesus in complete trust, just as sheep trust their shepherd. Given abundant life, he offers the only thing he can: his faith and his love. He’s made a decision to change, to accept God’s gift of forgiveness, to accept with a humility that most of us can only imagine.

You see, brothers and sisters, salvation demands a living faith. And the path to salvation is the path of discipleship. The call of the disciple is to follow Jesus. Dismas, then, becomes the ultimate disciple, who follows Jesus right through the gates of heaven.

Let me add another saint who goes against the grain, and reminds me of St. Dismas, another man most of us would never expect to be a canonized saint. 

His name is Andries (Andrew) Wouters, and I'd never heard of him until a few months ago. A Benedictine monk gave me his prayer card and a few days later I was told by my doctor I'd need surgery for a pesky hernia.

Anyway, I decided to do a little research and discovered that Wouters, born in the Netherlands in 1542, was ordained a priest but lived a scandalous life. A known womanizer, he was known to have fathered several children with different women.

During the Dutch revolt against the Spanish, a Calvinist rebel group set themselves up to battle the Catholic Church in the Netherlands. In June 1572, the town of Gorkum fell to the Calvinists and the rebels captured nine Franciscan friars, two lay brothers, along with several parish priests, including Wouters.

Imprisoned at Gorkum from 26 June to 6 July 1572, the nineteen were moved to Brielle, arriving on 8 July. Ordered to abandon their belief in Transubstantiation, and Papal supremacy, all refused to renounce the faith. All 19 martyrs, hanged that July from the roof of a turf-shed.

Wouters' last words were remarkable: "Fornicator I always was; heretic I never was.” He had confessed his sins to one of the other priests.

A century after their deaths, after many miracles attributed to their intercession, particularly the curing of hernias, the 19 martyrs were beatified. They were canonized in 1867 by Pope Pius IX. Their relics are in the Church of Saint Nicholas in Brussels, Belgium.

What a wonderful example to all those plagued by their earlier sins. St. Andrew Wouters, pray for us. When the evil one reminds us of past failings, help us to recall that Christ has already conquered sin and death, and that we only need to remain in Him to be saved.

Salvation is a gift of joy. It’s the Good News, given to us and received by us. I’m pretty sure Deacon Dick will agree with me. At Mass when I go to the ambo to proclaim the Gospel or preach, and look up at the thousand faces before me, I often have to search for a happy face.

Here I am about to proclaim the Good News and it looks as if they’ve all just received bad news. The Good News is salvation itself, and we must live its acceptance as joyful Christians. How can there be any other kind of Christian? And from what source do we receive this additional gift of joy? St. Paul reveals it, as he completes his letter to the Romans:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” [Rom 15:13]

That certainly sums it all up, doesn’t it?

And how blessed we are today…because we have the Church, her sacraments, and her graces. When we decide to turn to God in trust, we too are saved: by rejecting Satan and sin; by praying in and with the Holy Spirit and being open to His movement in our lives; by active participation in the Church’s sacramental life; and by extending God’s love to all.

These are no less than the promises that define our sacramental Baptism.

Let me leave you tonight with the words of St. Jude, in perhaps the least read little book of the New Testament, when he calls us to:

“Pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God; wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life” [Jude 20-21].

God love you all.

My Jesse Jackson Encounter

Although Rev. Jesse Jackson and I likely disagreed on as much as we agreed, I was very sorry to hear of his death. Some months ago, a friend, who knew Jackson well, told me that the civil rights leader was quite ill. He went on to say he expected Jackson wouldn't survive very long. It seems he was correct. Again, I am sorry and will add Jackson to my prayers, asking that he be blessed by our loving God's forgiveness and mercy.

I met Rev. Jackson only once, and quite briefly. It must be 25 to 30 years ago. I was part of a busload of parishioners from our Cape Cod parish. We had traveled to Washington, DC for the annual March for Life in cold, bleak January. 

We spent the night in a very nice hotel (I've forgotten the name), and that evening as I walked through the lobby I saw Rev. Jackson just a few feet away, chatting with someone. Naturally, I couldn't resist, so I approached and when the other person walked away, I simply said, "Reverend Jackson, are you planning to join all of us on the March for Life?" Surprised, perhaps by the question or perhaps just by me, he replied with a shake of his head and then added, "No, I have meetings to attend." I think at that point he realized I was nobody special, so he just smiled, and began to turn away. So I said, "Well, we'll pray for you, Reverend. God bless you." He smiled again but said nothing else. I don't believe he was actively pro-life.

Thus ended my one and only interaction with the Rev. Jesse Jackson. And so, as I said to him back then, I will pray for him.