Pope Francis, Giorgia Meloni, and Me

Every so often, probably more often than I would like, someone will ask me, "Deacon, what do you think of Pope Francis?" The questions come from across the entire spectrum of Catholic opinion. But most who ask me about the pope are simply looking for direction and understanding. Occasionally, though, I suspect I am being baited by those few who intend to argue a point, whether theological, ideological, or simply political. They hope to hear me state either my total agreement with the Holy Father or my complete disagreement. I always disappoint them because I'm never in complete agreement or disagreement with any mere man or woman, even the pope. I try to weigh what others say against what I know to be the truth, particularly the revealed truth given to us by Jesus Christ and taught to us by the Church He founded. 

Do I agree with everything Pope Francis has said and written? Probably not, but this might well be the result of a lack of understanding on my part. This came to mind today when I read some of the comments made by the newly elected Prime Minister of Italy, Giorgia Meloni. Many on the left, including our president, have accused her of fascist sympathies. This, of course, is completely absurd and demonstrates either their ignorance -- they don't know what fascism is -- or their willful dishonesty by accusing their enemies of their own ideological beliefs, a common tactic of the left.

Here's how the new prime minister describes her beliefs that center on the family, her Christian (Catholic) faith, her patriotism:

"Why is the family so frightening?  There is a single answer to all these questions. Because it defines us because it is our identity. Because everything that defines us is an identity, and for those who would like us to no longer have an identity and simply be perfect consumer slaves.”

Then, describing those she calls "financial speculators," she says: 

“They attack national identity, religious identity; attack gender identity and family identity. I can’t define myself as Italian, Christian, woman, mother. Now I must be citizen X, gender X, parent one, parent two. I must be a number because when I’m only a number, when I no longer have an identity or roots, then I will be the perfect slave at the mercy of financial speculators.

We will defend the value of the human being -- every single human being.”

If these are the words of a fascist, then I guess I'm one too. Of course, what she said really represents the core beliefs of a Christian society. And I especially liked what she had to say about herself, a self-appraisal summed up in a few choice words:

“I am Giorgia, I am a woman, I am Italian, I am Christian. You can’t take this away from me!”

As you might expect, such a simple, straightforward self-description drives the woke crowd in Washington and Brussels to distraction. She actually cherishes her unique identity: the name she received at her Baptism; the sex with which God blessed her at conception; the nation and culture in which she was born and raised; and the Christian faith that rules her life. As she stated, "You can't take this away from me" because they are all gifts from family, from God, and from a culture.

In her autobiography Giorgia Meloni waxed eloquently on the evil of political correctness:

“You see, political correctness is a shockwave, a cancel culture that tries to upset and remove every single beautiful, honorable, and human thing that our civilization has developed...It is a nihilistic wind of unprecedented ugliness that tries to homogenize everything in the name of One World. In short, political correctness – the Gospel that a stateless and rootless elite wants to impose – is the greatest threat to the founding value of identities.”

I've included all this just to give you a sense of who Giorgia Meloni truly is, so you won't be led astray by the woke, mainstream media, a media that truly despises this woman. But now let's look at what she has said about her Catholic faith and Pope Francis. The following brief comments are sufficient. 

She said this about Pope Francis:

“Maybe it’s age, maybe the memories, but even though I’m Catholic and I’ve never allowed myself to criticize a pope, I admit that I haven’t always understood Pope Francis...Sometimes I feel like a lost sheep, and I hope one day to have the privilege of being able to talk to him, because I’m sure that his big eyes and his direct words can give meaning to the things I don’t understand.”

When I read those words, I almost fell out of my chair, because they reflect my own sentiments almost exactly. I have found so much that is good and valuable in what the pope has said and written, and yet, like Giorgia Meloni, there is much that I simply do not understand. I, too, will not openly criticize the Holy Father, but perhaps in an upcoming post I might share some of my misunderstandings. In the meantime, all of us should pray daily for Pope Francis, the Vicar of Christ, and successor of St. Peter. And pray, too, for Giorgia Meloni. I suspect she might need a lot of God's help as she tries to drain the Roman swamp.

Homily: Memorial of St. Vincent de Paul

Readings:  1 Cor 1:26-31; Psalm 112; Mt 9:35-38

A wonderful day today, the memorial of our parish’s patron saint, St. Vincent de Paul, who devoted his life and ministry to serving the poor and the forgotten, and had a lasting impact throughout the world. How blessed we are that he intercedes for the good of our parish and the needs of our community.

Back in May of 1985, on a business trip to Europe, I spent a weekend in Paris. It wasn’t planned as a pilgrimage, but it kind of turned into one. I visited Notre Dame Cathedral and Sacre-Coeur, but I also went to the Lazarists Mission where the remains of St. Vincent de Paul are interred. His remains are inside a waxy effigy that’s not easy to find, but I’d been tipped off in advance and so managed to find the saint.

As I spent a few minutes in prayer, I noticed the small crucifix in his hands. Later I was told by a friend that Vincent was called to the bedside of King Louis XIII in May 1643 and held that crucifix before the eyes of the dying king. That this man, so devoted to the poor and dispossessed, should have been called to the bedside of the king tells us much of the effect Vincent had on every element of French society. St. Vincent’s deep love for the poor was not so exclusive that he couldn’t assist a king in his dying hour. As St. Paul reminded us in today's reading:

“God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something…” [1 Cor 1:27-28]

You can be sure Vincent reminded the dying king that he would leave this world powerless and in poverty, and yet would still be showered by the Father’s love. After all, at the very heart of the Gospel are those words from John, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son…” [Jn 3:16] -- precious words that reveal to us the cost to the Father’s heart: ‘He gave…”

This shouldn’t surprise us, here in a parish dedicated to this remarkable saint, who mirrored God’s loving care for those forgotten by the world. We, then, are called to be a community of love, a work in progress, with a heart that strives to emulate Vincent and serve all who come to us in need.

The love in St. Vincent’s heart, and I hope in ours as well, is the same love of God Paul told the Romans “has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us” [Rom 5:5]. Yes, indeed, it’s the Holy Spirit who works through us to do God’s work in the world. And that’s what we must always remember…

As the Psalmist reminds us: Non nobis, Domine, non nobis…Not to us, Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory. It’s God’s work, not ours. It’s for God’s glory, not ours. You and I must draw our inspiration and strength, just as St. Vincent did, from Jesus Christ crucified, from Jesus whose Good News broke down the barriers that separate us, making peace by the Blood of His Cross.

I have a feeling that St. Vincent, were he here with us today, would just say one word to us: “More!” Not more for ourselves, but more for the poor, the forgotten of the world…more justice for them, more time for them, food for the hungry, healing for the suffering, more love. Because St. Vincent recognized Jesus’ presence in the poor, he would ask us not only to do more, but also to do all with the gentleness and love of Jesus.

He was motivated, not by politics or sociology or any human cause, but by the love he had for the person of Jesus Christ. As St. Vincent often said, “Nothing pleases me but in Jesus Christ.”

And like Jesus in today’s Gospel passage from Matthew, St. Vincent was always on the move, always sharing God’s love with those who most needed to experience it, always sharing God’s Word with those who most needed to hear it.

Jesus’ plea in the Gospel echoes through the centuries. The harvest today is even more abundant and there are certainly not enough laborers. Far too many Christians seem to believe only the clergy and religious are called to do God’s work in the world. But in truth we’re all called to serve, to serve others, and to witness to Jesus, every single one of us. As the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council instructed the laity:

“They are consecrated for the royal priesthood and the holy people, not only that they may offer spiritual sacrifice in everything they do, but also that they may witness to Christ throughout the world.”

Here the Fathers simply followed the command of Jesus who, right before His Ascension, told the disciples:

"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth" [Acts 1:8].

Yes, indeed, Jesus calls each of us, so that through the Holy Spirit we can make disciples, and serve, and witness wherever we are, in Wildwood, in The Villages, and to the ends of the earth.

  

Homily: Thursday 25th Week in Ordinary Time

Yesterday afternoon, I was asked by St. Lawrence Parish in Bushnell, Florida if I would help them by conducting a Liturgy of the Word with Communion this morning. Their pastor apparently had a commitment, so they sought out a deacon to assist. St. Lawrence is only a 30-minute drive from my home, so I was happy to help out. My homily follows:

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Readings: Ecclesiastes 1:2-11; Psalm 90; Luke 9:7-9

First, believe me, it’s a joy to be here with you at St. Lawrence Parish. You might not know this, but 19 years ago, when I arrived here in the Orlando Diocese I was assigned to this parish. In those days St. Vincent de Paul was a mission church of St. Lawrence Parish, and I can remember coming here frequently to attend parish council and other meetings. But things have certainly changed, haven’t they?

I usually preach on or at least touch on the Gospel reading, but today I decided to offer a little change of pace. I decided instead to focus on our reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes, mainly because it’s a reading that’s too often avoided, and I thought you deserved better.

Let me set the stage with a little personal history.

I’ve always been interested in astronomy, and even studied it in college. I always saw it as a science where one comes closer to grasping the splendor of God’s creation as well as His awesome power.

I also spent many years as a Navy pilot, and when at sea would enjoy looking at the stars. In mid-ocean, away from the lights of civilization, the effect is remarkable. The stars are a hundred times brighter, the planets are clearly defined, and our galaxy, the Milky Way, lives up to its name. In near-total darkness you can see the entire sky from horizon to horizon, almost as if you’ve left the earth and are there in space in the midst of creation.

I recall one night particularly well. I tried to read a little Scripture each day, and I had just read the first two chapters of Ecclesiastes, which include today’s first reading. Those verses had disturbed me, as I suppose they have disturbed many people.

If we take it literally, Ecclesiastes is a depressing, almost fatalistic, book. Some call it the most depressing book in the bible, and even question why it was included in the first place. It seems to say that everything that will be has already been, that nothing is new, everything just repeats itself, again and again. Rain falls, making streams which flow into rivers and then to the ocean, only to be vaporized and return again as rain. On and on it goes. Life is just a vicious and frustrating circle. What goes around comes around.

And the author doesn’t just address nature. He also implies that human activity is equally futile, implying that working hard is a waste of time. Why bother? You’ll never really enjoy the fruits of your labor. Someone else will, someone who won’t appreciate you or your work.

The author, Qoheleth, shouts to the world: All that we do is vanity.

As I said, when we take this at face value, it can sound very depressing. And I’ll admit, it depressed me that night at sea 30 years ago.

Then I went up on deck and looked up at the stars. How long had they been there? Billions of years. The distances are so vast we can’t begin to comprehend them, except abstractly through mathematics. How powerful and eternal is the God who made it all! And how small and insignificant are we.

As all these thoughts went through my mind, I recalled the words I had just read moments before:

“What has been, that will be; what has been done, that will be done. Nothing is new under the sun. Even the thing of which we say, “See, this is new!” has already existed in the ages that preceded us. There is no remembrance of the men of old; nor of those to come will there be any remembrance among those who come after them” [Eccl 1:9-11].

Suddenly I understood what Qoheleth meant by “All things are vanity” [Eccl 1:2] – or a more accurate translation of the Hebrew, “all things are mist (or breath).” In a sense, he meant the same thing that St. Thomas Aquinas meant when, near the end of his life, he looked back on his remarkable work and said, “It is all straw.”

Ecclesiastes is now among my favorite books of the Old Testament. It’s a very unique book, really the Bible’s only book of philosophy, for it is based solely on human reason. God is silent in the book, until the very end.

The author was obviously a man of position, highly regarded for his wisdom. Indeed, his name means “teacher.” And he’s telling us that time conditions life, so no human achievements – all those “under the sun” things -- have lasting value. In the overall scheme of things, he tells us, our seemingly important human work is really futile.

Qoheleth really asks the question that the rest of sacred Scripture was written to answer: What is the purpose of life? Is there a purpose? For what we need most of all – meaning and purpose and hope in our lives – is precisely what Qoheleth questions.

This is a dangerous question because if we can’t answer it, we are left with the world’s worst news, that life is meaningless. By including Ecclesiastes in Sacred Scripture first the Jewish rabbis and then the Church showed tremendous confidence in their ability to provide a real answer.

For the Jews, the answer was trust and hope, trust in God’s faithfulness to His Covenant and hope in the promise of a Messiah. For the Church, the answer isn’t the hope of a Messiah, but His reality in the person of Jesus Christ.

And so, instead of the worst news, we have the Good News; we have the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and what a positive answer this is!

Jesus, the eternal, creative Word of God, He who created this immeasurable, incomprehensible universe, actually became one of us to show His infinite love for us.  From Jesus we learn there actually is human work that’s not “under the sun” – human work that’s truly “out of this world” – the work of building the Kingdom of Heaven.

We’re not here just to live from day to day, filling our stomachs and our bank accounts, until we die and disappear from human memory. No, we’re here to build up the mystical Body of Christ, the kingdom of loving souls, and death is not the end, but just the beginning.

Secondly, vanity and despair are not the meaning of life. Love is the meaning of life. God created us out of love because love is His very nature. And He asks us to return that love to Him and share it with each other.

We discover later that Qoheleth recognizes this, because at the very end of his book, he tells us:

“The last word, when all is heard: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this concerns all humankind; because God will bring to judgment every work, with all its hidden qualities, whether good or bad" [Eccl 12:13-14].

Qoheleth exposes the God-shaped hole in the human heart. It’s a hole that can’t be filled by anything in the world, for nothing material is great enough to fill that emptiness. Only one thing can fill it, and it isn’t a thing; it’s a Person: Jesus Christ, who came to conquer death and evil. The Book of Ecclesiastes asks the question, and Jesus Christ is the answer.

In St. Augustine’s famous words, “Thou hast made us for Thyself, and therefore our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.”

Polls and Their Interpretation

Just a few thoughts about the midterm election polls and their misinterpretation not only by the media but also by both political parties. I’m particularly concerned with the question asked by almost all pollsters. The question might be phrased somewhat differently by each pollster, but essentially they all ask: “What’s the most important issue for you in the midterm elections?” The question might be followed by a list of several issues from recent headlines; for example: crime, border security, national defense, Communist China, immigration, education, inflation, abortion, democracy, the president, and many others.

The left has been enthused about what they believe to be a growing number of voters who name abortion as their key issue, assuming this will drive their voting decisions. And they may well be correct, but not perhaps in the way they think. Let me explain.

The other day I received a request via text message to take part in a poll. I usually ignore these requests, but for some reason I figured, what the heck! I’ll give it a try. It didn’t take long to realize this was no politically neutral poll. It was obviously created to support a particular Democrat candidate who is running for Florida Attorney General. The questions were worded in a way that denigrated conservative viewpoints and extolled the candidate’s leftist beliefs. As expected, one of the questions asked me to identify the issue most important to me as a voter. I selected “abortion” simply because it is my driving issue. I have never voted for a “pro-choice” candidate at any level and never will. In fact, when faced with two candidates who both support abortion, I have simply not voted for either. To me, anyone who supports abortion is in a state of severe moral confusion and cannot be trusted to respond correctly to any moral issue.

Anyway, my poll response got me thinking, so I sent an email to a bunch of folks whom I know are pro-life. I just asked them the same question I’d been asked and listed many of those hot issues. Of the 24 folks who responded, 21 selected “abortion.” My conclusion, then, is something the pro-abortion crowd doesn’t want to hear. Many of those who say their primary issue is abortion are probably pro-life, and not pro-choice. I suppose we’ll just have to wait until November 9th to find out.

Islands of Hypocrisy

Before moving to Florida, Diane and I spent 25 years in a wonderful old home in Harwich Port on Cape Cod. A large 11-room home — what we liked to call “11 one-room houses hammered together over almost 200 years” — it was perfect for us and our four children. In truth, though, it evolved into a 25-year fixer-upper, probably why I got such a good deal when I bought it. But despite its shortcomings, it fulfilled all three of the real estate industry’s key priorities: location, location, and location. We were blessed to live close to the water so our children could take a two-minute walk to a beautiful, sandy beach on Nantucket Sound. Our quaint village’s downtown was also a short walk from our home, and the local library was just around the corner. Although it was a nice place to live, we could not afford to stay there in retirement, and so we made our way to Florida.

Across the water, almost due south of our former home, is Nantucket Island, made famous by Herman Melville’s brilliant 1851 novel, Moby Dick. Today, however, Nantucket is perhaps better known as the home of our younger son, Brendan, an electrician who helps the elites keep their lights on and power their Internet connections with their brokers. Nantucket is also the home — okay, one of the homes — of many so-called celebrities. For example, John Kerry, our nation’s climate czar, has a rather large home on Nantucket which he visits seasonally in his private jet. I can’t say for sure, but considering how much time he spends jetting around the world to ensure the peasants freeze in the winter and suffer heatstroke in the summer, I assume he must own the world’s only electric airplane. After all, if he owned a real jet that consumed thousands of gallons of jet fuel and polluted our upper atmosphere…well, that would be sheer hypocrisy. But as it turns out, Kerry is no stranger to hypocrisy, a trait he demonstrated  years before when he “served” on swift boats in Vietnam, shopped for medals, and then publicly denigrated has fellow veterans. If you want the truth about Kerry’s Vietnam service, read John O’Neill’s book, Unfit for Command. O’Neill, a true hero and my Naval Academy classmate, lifts the veil behind which Kerry tried to hide that truth. Today, though, Czar Kerry is a beloved Nantucket resident, a kind of town character who loves to ask the tourists such questions as, “Do you know who I am?” as he exercises head-of-the-line privileges at the local coffee shop. Always generates lots of laughs.

But enough about Nantucket. There’s another island across Nantucket Sound, this one southwest of our former home, and it’s called Martha’s Vineyard, or simply “The Vineyard” by those in the know. It too is the summer home of many of our nation’s wealthiest elites, and in this it surely eclipses Nantucket. If you’ve never visited the island, and think it might be nice to vacation there next summer, I suggest you first download the Zillow app, search for Martha’s Vineyard, and check out the home values in Edgartown or Chilmark. Then take a moment to check the summer rates for hotels and B&Bs. You’ll quickly discover that Martha’s Vineyard really isn’t for folks like you and me. The homes are both amazing and amazingly expensive, with very few valued under $1 million and many worth far more. The island is also home to those hard-working folks who must keep all those expensive homes running and beautiful. Other men and women provide the societal infrastructure that allows the wealthy to enjoy their summers. Because it’s not easy to find affordable housing, many workers commute on the ferry from mainland Cape Cod or live with others in temporary quarters provided by employers. Yes, indeed, Martha’s Vineyard is really for the wealthy elites.

Although it pretends to be an earthly paradise for the select, Martha’s Vineyard lacks one thing: undocumented migrants, those we once called illegal aliens. This is true of most wealthy communities, regardless of location. Of course, island businesses import plenty of foreign nationals every summer to staff hotels, restaurants, and landscaping firms, but they’re all sent home on Labor Day. Good heavens! If they stay any longer, they might just decide to settle in permanently. 

The difference between places like Martha’s Vineyard and the communities spread out along our southern border is striking. In the latter you will encounter thousands of migrants. Indeed, thousands cross the border every day and inundate these border communities which are far from wealthy. Many, probably most, citizens of these border cities and towns have Latin American roots and are not pleased with the local consequences of this border crisis. Interestingly, the Democrats now wonder why so many of these folks are deserting their party. 

Although the immigration policies of the federal government are the direct cause of our unsecured, open border, that same government has done little to solve its self-generated problems. Deadly drugs like fentanyl, that originate in Communist China and are processed by Mexican drug cartels, pour across the border daily and kill thousands of young Americans. The cartels also engage in widespread and highly profitable human trafficking resulting in the unspeakable degradation of so many woman and children. Closing the border would certainly help, but the Biden administration wants an open border, since it assumes these illegal immigrants will give thanks by voting for Democrats in future elections. Since many migrants come here to escape the despotic socialist governments of their native countries, I suspect they will be far more likely to vote for candidates who represent freedom rather than tyranny. The very fact that they’ve risked everything, even their lives, to get here shows they’re not stupid. And only stupid people vote against their own best interests.

Let me share a recent experience. I bought a new clothes dryer the other day and the two installers were immigrants from Venezuela. These two bright, hard-working young men told me they came here to escape the socialism that has all but destroyed their native land.  Both arrived only a couple of years ago. Both are husbands and new fathers and hope their children will grow up in freedom. I heard the same last week from a young repairman who came here from Cuba only last year. How they will vote is no mystery.

But the elites don’t understand this. To display their virtue, wealthy liberals, safely tucked away in their gated compounds and island retreats, like to describe their communities as sanctuaries open to all migrants, so long as none actually show up on their doorstep. (The Martha’s Vineyard welcome sign below is a popular yard sign on the island.)

This NIMBY attitude was clearly manifested this week when Florida’s Governor Ron DeSantis flew 50 Venezuelan migrants to Martha’s Vineyard. Unlike President Biden, who has flown tens of thousands of migrants to destinations all over the country and has consistently done so under the cover of darkness, DeSantis and the other Republican border state governors hide nothing and fly or bus migrants openly. The reaction from liberals? DeSantis must be a Nazi and Biden is obviously a saint. Oh, yes, the city of El Paso, Texas, run by Democrat politicians, is also busing migrants to New York, but about this we hear nothing but silence from the northern Democrats. Go figure! 

Remarkably, Martha’s Vineyard’s civic leaders stated they simply don’t have the resources to care for these 50 migrants. This from one of the wealthiest communities in the country, an island with thousands of empty hotel rooms now that the tourist season is over. So, what did they do? The next day the governor of Massachusetts ordered the National Guard to remove these 50 migrants and transport them to a military base on Cape Cod. Problem solved! The pesky brown folks from Venezuela are now off the island and the elites can relax knowing their beloved Vineyard will not be contaminated by actual migrants. They seemingly prefer the virtual migrants who reside on their yard signs. Racism and hypocrisy remain alive and well. 

Just to emphasize this, NBC's media outlet posted the following tweet about the Florida governor's actions:

"Florida Gov. DeSantis sending asylum-seekers to Martha's Vineyard is like 'me taking my trash out and just driving to different areas where I live and just throwing my trash there," a founding member of a foundation that helps refugees says."

Oh, yes, those trashy migrants certainly don't belong on Martha's Vineyard. As you might expect, the backlash was significant, and NBC deleted the tweet. 

Life and Death

Today is my birthday, and at 78 I can no longer deny the fact that I’m gradually turning into…well, an old man. Other than occasional aches and pains, though, I don’t feel very old. And unlike many others, I’m certain I don’t look my age, but then I really don’t spend much time in front of mirrors. I’m still active, and try to make my doctor happy by slimming down to a healthier, more comfortable weight. I don’t run anymore, but my dog, Maddie, and I walk a few miles each day. My brain seems to be a reasonable facsimile of the brain I used as a younger man. Okay, I admit I suffer from occasional short-term memory lapses, but I blame this on the fact that my brain cells must store 78 years of rather intense memories and a tremendous amount of largely useless information, so there’s probably not much room in there for a lot of new stuff. And searching all those cells for memories, new or old, takes some time. I suppose, then, I should be happy given that I’ve been up and about and doing fairly well since leaving the womb on September 13, 1944. But whenever I start to feel so very good about myself, God comes along and points to someone who reminds me of my weaknesses and the amazing strength of others.

This afternoon, while searching through my messy, unorganized bookcases for a particular book, I came across another, a book I bought and read many years ago. I recall spotting it on a shelf in a used bookstore and being intrigued by its unusual title, Noor-un-nisa Inayat Kahn (Madeline). After flipping through its pages, I bought the book for just a couple of dollars. But once I began reading, I couldn't put it down and finally finished it late that evening. 

I was captivated by the subject of this true story about a remarkably brave young woman. It was the story of Noor Inayat Khan, an Indian-born, Sufi Muslim who volunteered as an undercover agent for the British Special Operations Executive during World War Two. In June of 1943 she was flown to a secret landing site in France. For the next four months she worked with the French resistance radioing critical information back to London. While in Paris, she was betrayed to the Germans and captured in October 1943. She underwent a month of vicious interrogation during which she revealed nothing. Labeled an "extremely dangerous prisoner," she was sent to Germany where she was imprisoned for months in solitary confinement with her hands and feet shackled. Eventually Noor was sent to Dachau and summarily executed along with three other female undercover agents captured by the Germans: Yolande Beekman, Elaine Plewman and Madeleine Damerment. Their bodies were burned in the camp's crematorium.

Dachau Crematorium 

It was then I discovered that all four women were executed on the day I was born, September 13, 1944. I found this particularly moving since I had actually visited Dachau with my family in the winter of 1951, not that many years after their deaths. Although I was just seven years old at the time, that visit made a lasting impression on me, especially the crematoria. Now, 78 years after their deaths, I find myself celebrating a birthday while at the same time thanking God for Noor Inayat Kahn are her three courageous, freedom-loving companions whose lives ended just as mine was beginning. 

Life and death, beginnings and endings -- every ending, every death, brings a new beginning, new life. How did Jesus put it?

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life” [Jn 12:24-25].

When I once related this story to a friend, who lives a rather closed version of Christianity, he stated it was too bad the Kahn woman was a Muslim because she could never be saved. I, of course, disagreed and chastised him for assuming he could tell God to whom He could extend His mercy. Before he could respond I just quoted Jesus:

"Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” [Jn 15:13].

Though these four women never knew me, I think of myself as one of their friends. I pray for the souls of these wonderful women every day and especially on this day when so many wish me a "Happy Birthday." For them, we pray, it was a happy day of new birth.

Baby Cells and Mama cells

Here's a beautiful post I came across on Facebook, thanks to the wife of another deacon in our parish who provided a link to it:

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When pregnant, the cells of the baby migrate into the mother's bloodstream and then circle back into the baby, it’s called “fetal-maternal microchimerism.”

For 41 weeks, the cells circulate and merge backwards and forwards, and after the baby is born, many of these cells stay in the mother’s body, leaving a permanent imprint in the mother's tissues, bones, brain, and skin, and often stay there for decades. Every single child a mother has afterwards will leave a similar imprint on her body, too.

Even if a pregnancy doesn't go to full term or if you have an abortion, these cells still migrate into your bloodstream.

Research has shown that if a mother's heart is injured, fetal cells will rush to the site of the injury and change into different types of cells that specialize in mending the heart.

The baby helps repair the mother, while the mother builds the baby.

How cool is that?

This is often why certain illnesses vanish while pregnant.

It’s incredible how a mother's body protects the baby at all costs, and the baby protects and rebuilds the mother back - so that the baby can develop safely and survive.

Think about crazy cravings for a moment. What was the mother deficient in that the baby made them crave?

Studies have also shown cells from a fetus in a mother's brain 18 years after she gave birth. How amazing is that?”

If you’re a mom you know how you can intuitively feel your child even when they are not there. Well, now there is scientific proof that moms carry them for years and years even after they have given birth to them.

I find this to be so very beautiful.

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So do I...

Source: Heart Prints on Facebook

Holy Bats?

A follow-up to yesterday's rant about bats in our residential belfry... 

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Today, after the 8 a.m. Mass, as I was standing in the narthex saying goodbye to parishioners, one of my Bible Study regulars approached me and said:

"Read your blog last night, about the bats, and wondered if the Bible says anything about bats. Do you know?"

"Don't eat them," I replied. "I think that's the only bat reference in Scripture, but I'll check."

This happens far too often. My Bible Study participants -- and we now have 100 or more -- are always putting me to work. They assume I'm some sort of Scriptural scholar, which I certainly am not, and think I can just rattle off passage and verse.  In fact, the older I get, the harder it is to remember pretty much anything. I not only forget basic facts, as well as passages I once knew by heart, but I also forget that I even once might have known them.

Anyway, I was aware of several references to bats in the Torah, certainly in Leviticus, but also in Deuteronomy. I had a fuzzy recollection that both addressed the fact that bats were considered "unclean" and should not be eaten. 

When I got home, I decided to see if I were correct and checked out the relevant references. Here's what Leviticus has to say:

"Of the birds, these you shall loathe; they shall not be eaten, they are loathsome: the griffon vulture, the bearded vulture, the black vulture, the kite, the various species of falcons, the various species of crows, the eagle owl, the kestrel, the long-eared owl, the various species of hawks, the little owl, the cormorant, the screech owl, the barn owl, the horned owl, the osprey, the stork, the various species of herons, the hoopoe, and the bat" [Lev 11:13-19].

I found it interesting that the bat is listed last among the "birds." I'm sure Moses and Aaron realized the bat isn't a bird. After all, one look at a bat and you can see it's a mammal. But because it has wings and flies it probably seemed to fit this category better than any other.

Deuteronomy also addresses the fact that bats are unclean; indeed, the passage is almost a verbatim repetition of the passage from Leviticus:

"You may eat all clean birds. But you shall not eat any of the following: the griffon vulture, the bearded vulture, the black vulture, the various kites and falcons, all kinds of crows, the eagle owl, the kestrel, the long-eared owl, all species of hawks, the little owl, the screech owl, the barn owl, the horned owl, the osprey, the cormorant, the stork, any kind of heron, the hoopoe, and the bat" [Dt 14:11-18].

Once again, the bat is listed last, right after the hoopoe, whatever that is.

______________________ 

Okay, I couldn't just let it ride. I had to check out the hoopoe. Here's a photo: 

...an odd-looking bird. Probably doesn't taste like chicken…maybe that’s why it's unclean.

_______________________

...back to bats. I thought these were the only two Scriptural bat references...but I was wrong. There's another, from Isaiah 2. I've probably read these words 100 times, but just never captured the bat reference in my aging brain. Here's the passage:

"Then human pride shall be abased, the arrogance of mortals brought low, and the Lord alone will be exalted on that day. The idols will vanish completely. People will go into caves in the rocks and into holes in the earth, at the terror of the Lord and the splendor of his majesty, as he rises to overawe the earth. On that day people shall throw to moles and bats their idols of silver and their idols of gold which they made for themselves to worship" [Is 2:17-20].

The words are a portion of Isaiah's prophecy describing the Lord's Day of Judgment." It is the day of God's glory and its effect on all people. Earlier in this same chapter we read those famous words:

"They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; one nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war again" [Is 2:4].

The fact that bats, along with moles, will be recipients of now useless idols of silver and gold doesn't add much to their stature. But the reference fits the situation, since "people will go into caves...and into holes," exactly where one might encounter bats and moles. At least God has given them a well-defined purpose on His glorious Day of Judgment, and by fulfilling that purpose, they serve Him. Let's pray that you and I do the same.

I think I'm beginning to like these critters a little more...but I still want them out of my house.

Do Bats Get a Bum Rap?

I've been thinking a lot about bats lately, not baseball or cricket bats, but the kind of bats that fly in the night...you know, the scary kind. 

Why my sudden interest in bats? Because we're housing them, right here in our wonderful retirement home in Central Florida. Some time ago, while walking our dog, Maddie, in the pre-dawn hours, I noticed quite a few bats flying near our home. "Bats! How interesting," I thought, naively. Sometime later I saw quite a few of these flying critters circling over our home and began to suspect something perhaps less innocent was taking place. Then, a few days ago, I found a dying bat on our front walk, quite close to the door. I put the poor creature out of his misery and called our pest-control company who informed me that, "Yes, we take care of bats." 

They sent one of their inspectors, a lovely young woman named Natalie, who climbed up into our attic. I remember her first comment, "Oh, yes, I can hear them."  Much of our attic is pretty much inaccessible unless you're determined to crawl around in darkness and heat. I'm not. Natalie was. She then inspected our roof and eaves for entry and exit points. Natalie must love her job because that roof inspection took place during a torrential downpour. She took photos in the attic and showed me the extent of the infestation. Let's just say we've been housing a lot of bats, rent-free. I should have asked for copies of the photos, but I really didn't want to see them again.

I also learned that bats apparently have constitutional (or at least, legal) rights. Here in Florida, we may not bother them during certain times of the year, presumably during mating and birthing seasons. Fortunately, that's behind us so the bat eviction will begin on October 3. Sadly, it's not an inexpensive process since it includes evicting the bats, closing off all entries and exits, and cleaning and sanitizing our attics. 

Anyway, this got me thinking about bats, something I'll admit I've rarely done before. I call bats scary because, well, they are. I consider bats, as I consider some of God's other creations, and find myself asking, "Why?" Why did He make sea snakes, or brown recluse spiders, or mosquitos, or rats, or a host of other similar creatures I've encountered over the years? I can't help but think the earth's eco-system could still survive well enough without these rather pesky wild things running, slithering, or swimming about. Of course, I'm likely wrong about this since God certainly knows what He's about, while I on the other hand have a near lifelong history of getting most things wrong. I'll accept, then, that bats are not the result of some sort of divine accident, since such a thing is impossible.

There's no need, therefore, to lecture me on the natural beneficence of bats. I too have watched those TV documentaries and realize bats do some good things. They pollinate plants, especially fruits, eat lots of insects (including mosquitos), eat other little nasty creatures, and do most of it in the dark while the rest of the flying world, except perhaps owls, sleep. They've even inspired many technological advances due to their rather remarkable echolocation capabilities. 

Yes, bats do some good things, but they're still scary. I think their scariness stems from their general makeup. 

First, they're creatures of the night, rarely an acceptable trait. Criminals do their best work at night, for the hours of darkness provide cover for nefarious deeds. And many predators, including those we fear, do their hunting at night. I suppose we project our human tendencies and pigeonhole most creatures of the night, assuming they're up to no good. After all, if you're making your way through a dark forest or jungle, and you realize you're being stalked by a large, hungry predator, it's little consolation to know that it's all part of nature's way. Being eaten is never good for the eatee. 

Bats also seem to deny natural selection, presenting us with a kind of freakish hybrid, a half-mammal, half-bird creature that shouldn't exist. Yes, I know, they're not half-bird but are simply mammals with wings. But I expect many people -- and I'll admit the thought has crossed my mind -- consider them nothing more than flying rats. After all, the very words, bat and rat, are way too similar. Coincidence? 

Of course, Bram Stoker did little to help the reputation of bats when he published his novel, Dracula, in 1897. Stoker, in his novel, coupled bats with vampires, in particular with Count Dracula of Transylvania. I suppose Stoker could have coupled vampires with any animal he chose, but, really, bats are absolutely perfect. Indeed, the vampire bat, a species that drinks the blood of other animals, actually exists. As you can see in the below photo, these truly are scary critters.

Anyway, by next month I trust bats will be behind me, far behind me, letting me focus on happier, less scary thoughts.