Paddy Cole, R.I.P.

It's not often you meet someone, quite accidentally, enjoy and hour or so with them, and then later discover they're really quite famous. Now Paddy Cole might not have been a leading celebrity here in the USA, but in Ireland he was well known across multiple generations. Of course, when Diane and I met him, under the most casual of circumstances, we simply thought he was wonderfully pleasant, a kind and humble man, far more interested in learning about us than telling us about himself. 

Back in September 2012, Diane and I traveled to Ireland to spend a week or so with our dear friends, Nancy and Dave Lee. The primary purpose of the trip was to attend the Navy-Notre Dame football game being played in Dublin that year. (Dave and I are both Naval Academy graduates.) I won't discuss the game, which was more than a little one-sided, but still made for an enjoyable day.

While Diane and I stayed at a local B&B, the Lees had booked a room at one of Dublin's nice hotels. As it turned out their hotel happened to be hosting a fundraising event for a Catholic parish, complete with food, drink, entertainment, and dancing. 

Before the festivities began, Diane allowed me to quench my thirst, and we sat down at a one of the hotel's outdoor tables. As I sipped my Guinness, a man approached and asked if he could join us. Of course we agreed. And thus, we met Paddy Cole.

Here's a photo I took that day as Paddy played his saxophone and entertained an enthusiastic crowd: 

Paddy Cole Entertaining us in Dublin

It was obvious Paddy knew we were Americans and just launched into a subtle Q&A about our lives. When we asked about his, he mentioned he was there to play the sax, sing, and otherwise entertain for the parish fundraiser. This led us to ask more about his music and background, and we soon discovered he'd had quite a history as an entertainer not only in Ireland, but also in Las Vegas. After a few years, however, he decided Vegas was no place to raise a family and wisely returned to Ireland.

Before he left us to take the stage, we swapped email addresses and phone numbers. As you'd expect, I googled him that evening and learned all about this remarkable man who was a legendary showband superstar in Ireland.

Although we met him only once, I did go on to correspond with him occasionally over the years, usually just brief emails. We'd write about things he'd mentioned on his radio show (I was able to listen to it online) or he'd mention something I wrote about in my blog. Ours was by no means a close friendship, and in the years since our first meeting in 2012, we might have swapped about a dozen emails. 

I hadn't heard from Paddy in a year or so, but given all the busyness of my life, I thought little of it. Then a few days ago, looking for something else, I accidentally stumbled on an obituary in the Irish Times.

Paddy Cole died in January at the age of 85 as a result of lung cancer, diagnosed several years before. It was an honor to know this man, if only briefly and certainly not deeply. As a man of faith, he is surely safely held in our merciful God's loving embrace. 

Rest in peace, Paddy. It was great knowing you.

Homily: Tuesday, 20th week in Ordinary Time (Year 1)

Readings: Jgs 6:11-24a • Ps 85 • Mt 19:23-30

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Today’s readings always make me more than a little uncomfortable.

Our first reading from Judges really addresses something we’ve all encountered. No, we all don’t have to face armies of nomadic Midianites out to destroy us. But we’ve all experienced times in our lives when things seemed to be crumbling, when all that we hoped for seemed suddenly unattainable. Or when work problems or family problems or health problems just erupted and got to the point where we simply couldn’t handle them well.

And so, like Gideon, we turn to God and ask that question: “Dear Lord, You know I’m faithful; if You’re with me, why is this happening?”

We pray every day, we attend Mass, we read our Bible, we do what we can to serve the poor and we give freely of our treasure to those in need. How come God doesn’t seem to see all the good we’re doing?

And then, inevitably, when all seems to be going so wrong, God brings some level of healing into our lives. We come to realize there’s only so much we can do ourselves, that the only real solution is to let God handle it, most often by leading us to where we need to be.

Unlike Gideon, one of the Judges of the Israelites, God has never sent an angel to guide me – at least one that I could see. But He has sent me others – perhaps they were angels – but they were often the least likely people, and yet they inevitably showed me the way.

Looking back on my odd life, I find myself concluding that God is truly responsible for all the accomplishments I like to take credit for. But it’s not just my successes that are touched with pride. Even in my failures, I find it hard to admit that I was the cause…and that’s pride too.

Yes, it’s all pride. St. Augustine called pride "the love of one's own excellence." I’ve come to think that sums it up pretty well. When we’re doing well, it’s hard to admit that everything is a gift from God.

Then, we’re faced with today’s Gospel passage. After the sad meeting with the rich young man who could not accept Jesus’ invitation to be a disciple, Our Lord comments on the effects of wealth. In doing so, He offers us the wonderful metaphor that it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God. Some say Jesus was referring to a narrow gate in Jerusalem’s city wall called the “eye of the needle.” But if so, that still means little, since He’s really telling us it’s next to impossible – except for God.

So, what does the Gospel mean by being rich? I think it means having a large surplus while around us are so many who lack the basic needs of life. With all that going on around us, but too often unnoticed, how can we claim to belong to the Kingdom, the reign of God, which is a kingdom of love and justice?

Later in his Gospel, in chapter 25, Matthew describes our judgment, at a time when Jesus equates Himself with those in deepest need.

“I was hungry, you gave me no food; I was thirsty, you gave me no drink; a stranger, you didn’t welcome me; naked, you didn’t clothe me; ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.”

When I hear this, and stop, and look inward, I see all the things that trouble me, everything that takes up my time, all the stuff I think is so very important…and discover it all has nothing to do with caring for "the least" of Jesus' brothers and sisters.

And yet, this is how we will be judged. It’s all about how we use the gifts God has given us. You see, it all belongs to Him, not to us. And so, we’re called to return it all to him, by serving those He loves.

Dear friends, God is omniscient; He knows and sees everything we do, and it gives Him great joy when we live the Gospel.

But for too many today, this is a hard thing to accept, a hard thing to do, especially here in our little Florida island of moderate affluence.

Homily: 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Readings: Jer 38:4-6,8-10; Ps 40; Heb 12:1-4, 8-19; Lk 12:49-53

As a deacon and an old, retired Navy Captain, I’m often asked to conduct committal services at the National Cemetery in Bushnell. It’s a wonderful opportunity to minister to our veterans, their spouses, and their families…always a true honor.

Often, as I conduct a committal service, I’ll turn to chapter 12 of the Letter to the Hebrews, from which we receive today’s second reading. The chapter begins with the author telling us:

“We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.”

This “cloud of witnesses” refers to the saints of the Old Covenant who paved the way for its fulfillment in the Incarnation of Jesus Christ. But there at the national cemetery I point to the graves of a different cloud of witnesses, the men and women who served our country faithfully and honorably in times of war and peace. Yes, indeed, “so great a cloud of witnesses,” that call us back to too many wars and conflicts.

Today’s readings, for example, brought Winston Churchill to mind. Sorry, but that’s the way my aging mind works. Things enter it unbidden. Anyway, in May of 1940, as the new Prime Minister of the UK, Churchill delivered his first speech to the House of Commons. An electrifying speech, it united the nation behind his leadership as it waged war against an evil, yet strong and determined, Nazi Germany, a speech in which Churchill uttered perhaps his most famous words:

"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering."

These weren’t comforting words, but they were necessary words, harsh, motivating words – words of truth that, despite the metaphors, told it like it is.

We encounter something similar in our first reading. The prophet Jeremiah foretells the hard truth about the upcoming victory of the Chaldeans, the taking of Jerusalem, and the long captivity in Babylon. Many in Judah didn’t want to hear all this bad news – so harsh and blunt – so they try to kill God’s prophet, foolishly thinking that will change God’s Word.

In our Gospel passage, Luke proclaims Jesus’ Word. It, too, seems harsh, so harsh that some, even today, resist it, and come away puzzled.

How can Jesus, the Prince of Peace, tell us that He has come “not to establish peace on the earth…but rather division”? That’s not all. He also says He will be the cause of this division, He has “come to set the earth on fire.” Then He adds those remarkable words: “And how I wish it were already blazing.”

These are indeed harsh words, the kind of words many Christians try to ignore, thinking that maybe Jesus was just having a bad day. He really didn’t mean it. Did He?

Churchill was acceptable to his countrymen so long as he was waging war. Once the war ended, he was tossed out of office. For some Christians, and for too many others,  Jesus is acceptable only when He speaks of peace and love and forgiveness. They want their Kumbaya Jesus; but, in truth, Jesus meant everything He said.

Too often we see and hear only the Jesus we’d like Him to be, and ignore the real Jesus, forgetting that the God of truth and fire also speaks to us.

Remember last Sunday’s Gospel, how Jesus reminded us of the demands of discipleship?

"Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more" [Lk 12:48}.

These, too, were not easy words for us, indeed, for all Christians who are entrusted with so much. Today’s Gospel words are no different; but let’s look at them more closely, in the context of Jesus’ total teaching, and see what He’s really telling us. The first thing He says:

“I have come to bring fire to the earth.”

Does He speak of the fire of war and destruction? Well, we can’t deny war and destruction; it surrounds us today and plagues our world. And God certainly lets it happen.

But here Jesus is talking about something else. Here He speaks of a fire that cleanses and purifies, the fire of God’s light, the fire of God’s truth, the fire of God’s Holy Presence among us.

It’s the fire Moses encountered when he approached the burning bush on Mount Horeb. This fire that didn’t consume called Moses to discipleship and holiness; it’s a fire that forms and reforms us even today.

It’s also the pillar of fire that led God’s People out of slavery and through the desert on their journey to freedom, to the Land promised by the Father. It’s a fire that calls us and leads us to Him.

It’s the righteous, sacrificial fire the prophet Elijah called down on the altar of God at Mt. Carmel – a fire in which all present saw the greatness of the God of Israel, and the emptiness, the nothingness of the world’s false gods.

It’s the fire of the burning ember that touched Isaiah’s lips and removed his wickedness and purged the prophet’s sin so he could proclaim God’s Word to His people.

In every instance, it’s the unquenchable fire of the Holy Spirit, the same Holy Spirit who appeared as tongues of fire that inspired Mary and the first disciples as they prayed together in the upper room.

Yes, indeed, Jesus calls for fire, a fire of purification.

It’s a fire of a new creation, the fire that brings the Church into being at Pentecost and continues to cleanse and purify her, always calling her back to her holy beginnings.

It’s the Holy Spirit’s painful fire that calls us to repentance and conversion, demanding that we reject the world’s false promises. But it’s also a fire of liberation, a fire that frees us from our slavery to sin and leads us to the freedom of God’s Kingdom.

And then Jesus tells us:

“There is a baptism with which I must be baptized, and how great is my anguish until it is accomplished.”

These words, too, confuse a lot of folks.

Didn’t Jesus already undergo a Baptism when John baptized Him in the Jordan? Yes, but for Jesus His Baptism by John is an example for us; but it’s also a sign, a manifestation of the Trinity: Jesus experiencing the descending dove of the Holy Spirit and the confirming words of the Father. So, what kind of Baptism is Jesus talking about here?

In the early Church, and in many churches today, Baptism is a total immersion in its saving waters. Consider how the Church’s funeral rite begins…

“In Baptism, she died with Christ and rose with Him to new life. May she now share with Him eternal glory.”

Immersed in the waters of Baptism, we die with Christ and become a sign of His suffering and death. Rising from the waters of Baptism, we become a sign of His Resurrection, looking to our own resurrection on the last day.

Is this “Baptism” on the Cross the one to which Jesus must be baptized? His words answer the question.

“…how great is my anguish until it is accomplished.”

Finally, Jesus tells us:

“Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.”

Many are confused and alarmed by these words as well. Doesn’t the Gospel preach bringing God’s peace to the world? Doesn’t Jesus tell us to love each other? Aren’t the peacemakers the “children of God?” And perhaps, most alarming, could these words encourage Christians to reject peaceful solutions to the problems that divide us?

Sadly, such questions betray a lack of understanding, not only of Jesus’ teaching, but also of human nature itself.

With these words Jesus gives His disciples, including us, a prophetic glance into the future, showing us how the world will respond to the Good News of the Gospel, of Jesus Christ.

God doesn’t will such divisions, but it’s something that we should expect to encounter. Indeed, it began when Jews and Gentiles called for Jesus’ crucifixion. And it’s been going on ever since.

Christianity and its teachings have not simply been rejected by many, but are also seen as the greatest threat to the plans and schemes of those seeking to gain or maintain power in the world.

It began with the Pharaohs, the Canaanites and Philistines, the Scribes and Pharisee, Sadducees, Greeks and Romans. And it continues today with Communists, fascists, Islamists, atheists, secularists…you name it. Stalin once mockingly asked, “How many divisions does the Pope have?” And yet, ironically, it was the faith of persecuted Polish Catholics that began the liberation of Eastern Europe from the Soviet yoke.

Indeed, there were more Christian martyrs in the 20^th century than all previous centuries combined. Where there is persecution, there is tremendous faith. And it’s always been that way. Tertullian, the 2^nd-century Early Church Father, said it well: "The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church."

Perhaps most fittingly, the preacher in Hebrews concludes today’s passage reminding his 1^st-century Christians:

“In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood.”

Yes, “not yet” – perhaps the same thing can be said to us.

Today, while Christianity in the modern, oh-so-civilized West seems to be in decline, in Africa and Asia its growth is dramatic, and so too is the number of martyrs.

The Church, as it defends the truth, demands justice, calls to respect life and human dignity, and pleads for freedom – these will create division.

Jesus reminds us that being a Christian is never easy. Yes, the peacemakers are blessed, but so too are those who suffer persecution for the sake of righteousness. Jesus doesn’t separate the two, and neither can we.

 

Jim Lovell, R.I.P.

We lost a truly remarkable man on Thursday. Jim Lovell, Navy Captain, Naval Aviator, Gemini and Apollo astronaut, and all-around terrific guy died at the age of 97. I won’t go on about his many accomplishments since you can read all about them on any of the many online obituaries posted to the Internet. I’d rather just say a few words about how I got to know this man who is one of our nation’s true heroes.

Flying Recovery Helo for Apollo 13

I met Jim Lovell on the morning of April 17, 1970, when our crewmen hoisted him and two other astronauts aboard our Navy SH-3D helicopter not long after their Apollo 13 command module splashed down several hundred miles south of American Samoa in the South Pacific. At the time I was the helicopter’s co-pilot and Chuck Smiley, my Commanding Officer, was the pilot. Chuck, who died in 2016, was another of the great ones who had such an impact on my life.

Apollo13 Astronauts: Lovell, Swigert, Haise (L to R)

The Apollo 13 crew -- Jim Lovell, Jack Swigert, and Fred Haise -- had survived a near catastrophic roundtrip to the moon, a mission that forced NASA and this three-man crew to apply all of their knowledge and skills in ways never imagined. If you can't recall the problems that plagued the mission (or if were not alive back then), you can always watch the movie -- Apollo 13 -- or simply click here to read NASA's detailed description of the mission. 

Apollo 13 Splashdown (I took the photo from our helo)

Anyway, when we hoisted the astronauts aboard our helicopter I had never seen three happier men. We brought them aboard one-at-a-time and then flew them to the ship, the USS Iwo Jima (LPH-2), just a few hundred yards away. While their flight to the moon and back had been filled with life-threatening problems, the recovery went smoothly and trouble-free. The photo below depicts our crew (I'm second from left, all of 25 years old).

Crew of "66" -- Apollo 13 Recovery

Later that evening we had the opportunity to meet briefly with the astronauts, something we hadn't been able to do on Apollo 11 and 12, the previous moon landing missions. On those missions the astronauts were immediately isolated in a special housing, along with a NASA doctor. I suppose there was a concern for possible contamination from space-bugs.  

The next day we flew the astronauts to Pago Pago in American Samoa in three separate helicopters. Jim Lovell flew in our aircraft and I asked him if he'd like to take my co-pilot seat and join the Skipper in the cockpit. I'd just take the jump seat right behind them. He loved the idea, and I still recall the first thing he said as he sat down and looked at the instrument panel and the controls: "Wow, these helicopters are sure getting a lot more complicated." This from a man who'd just brought a spacecraft to and from the moon under the worst conditions imaginable.

Jim Lovell & Chuck Smiley Flying to Samoa

We had a great time on the flight and talked a little about their lunar mission. But Captain Lovell was more interested in learning about the work our squadron did when we weren't picking up astronauts. The flight went well, and we were greeted by a huge crowd of happy Samoans at the Pago Pago airport. Also waiting there was a USAF C-141 transport to fly the astronauts back home to the USA. 

Over the past 50+ years, I've probably conducted 200 or more presentations on the Apollo 13 recovery for all kind of groups, large and small. And in recent years, thanks to computers and PowerPoint I have the perfect means to include many of the photographs taken during the recovery. I've always been an avid photographer, and in those days, I was fortunate to own a wonderful Leica camera which I usually carried with me when I flew...hence the photos of the Apollo 13 recovery.

After the Apollo 13 recovery, our squadron got out of the Apollo business and headed west to Vietnam (there was a war going on) aboard the USS Ticonderoga. I had an opportunity to meet Jim Lovell on several subsequent occasions, all involved with spreading the word about the great things that had been done during those Apollo days. He was always pleasant and kind and interested in what had taken place in my very odd life. 

Few know that Jim Lovell was literally a rocket scientist, the perfect educational background for an astronaut. He was also a fellow alumnus of the U. S. Naval Academy, although he graduated quite a few years before my class of 1967. 

Jim lived to the age of 97, no doubt longer than I will live. He lived a long and very productive life, a life devoted to bringing knowledge to the world. But most importantly it was a good life. As a nation, we will miss him. 

May the Lord bless him and keep him always in His heavenly embrace.