Happy Birthday, USA!

This morning I’m sitting, far too comfortably in my living room here in the great state of Florida, watching the remarkable July 4th events as they are presented to us via a technology that didn’t exist when those first patriots founded our nation. The world had to wait about 150 years before an American with a great name, Philo Farnsworth, invented the technology that brought television to the world. And so, thanks to what Philo did in 1929, today you and I can watch, in living color and on big screens, as our nation celebrates 250 years of independence and freedom. 

(Ok, a little aside: There's also a lot of garbage on TV, but we shouldn't blame Philo for that. Indeed, to rid ourselves of TV trash, we can thank another American, Robert Adler, a Jewish physicist who emigrated from Nazi-Austria in 1938, went to work for Zenith and invented the wireless remote control. So, if you don't like what some network wants you to watch, just grab your remote, push the button, change the channel, and thank Robert Adler.) 

I just watched the Navy's flight demonstration team, The Blue Angels, for about the hundredth time. They roared over the Hudson River in their usual tight formation trailing behind them a stream of red, white, and blue. As a long-retired Naval aviator who earned his "wings" in 1968, I have known many Blue Angel pilots, all remarkable aviators and good guys. 

Witnessing all of this today I’m reminded of the events Diane and I watched 50 years ago on the USA’s 200th birthday. We'd just moved into a new home in Bonita, California, thanks to another change of duty station ordered by the U.S. Navy. Within a few weeks I was at sea aboard the USS OKINAWA (LPH-3) as the ship prepared for a long deployment in the Western Pacific. At the time Diane and I had three young children. Erin was 5, Siobhan was 3, and Ethan was only 2. Erin might recall some of what we watched that day on our much smaller TV, but I suspect the others were too young. Brendan, our fourth and today a former U.S. Marine, didn’t make his global debut until December 8, 1977, coincidentally, also Diane’s birthday. 

Although today we're taking a long look at those 250 years, it's important to turn our primary focus toward the inaugural event, the day our founders began the formation of the United States as an independent nation free of foreign control. The Second Continental Congress accomplished this on July 4, 1776 by signing and formally adopting the Declaration of Independence, written by Thomas Jefferson. Almost 50 years later, the artist, John Trumbull, gave us a painting (below) of that historic event. Although not totally accurate, Trumbull's painting is still a beautiful depiction and encapsulates the essence of the Declaration's adoption by Congress.

Part of this year's tribute to our nation's founding was yesterday's celebration at Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. 20 Years ago, in June 2006, Diane and I spent a day at Mount Rushmore on our way to visit our daughter and her family in California. If you have never gone to Mount Rushmore, add it to your bucket-list. It's truly worth a visit. Here are a few photos I took as we stood in awe at the foot of this huge sculpture. The first is a typical shot of the four presidents: Washington, Jefferson, Teddy Roosevelt, and Lincoln.

I especially like this one, though, a photo I took from an unusual angle and precarious spot, showing my favorite, President George Washington.

If you didn't catch President Trump's speech at Mount Rushmore last night, find it and listen. As he reminded us, no nation in the history of the world has accomplished so much for so many. Yes, we have our faults, for we are simply human, but we also have a history of overcoming and correcting those imperfections through a continuous effort to become greater.

Today we are in the midst of a battle for our nation's soul. It is not a political battle between left and right, and those who believe we can achieve victory solely through political action are condemned to lose. The same is true for those who believe it is simply an economic battle between capitalism and socialism. Rather, this battle, this war, is spiritual, a battle between good and evil. We must do our part, and realize that only when we turn to God in total trust, when we allow Him to lead us, when we accept Him as "the Way and the Truth and the Life" (John 14:6), can we hope to achieve the victory God wants for us.

Pray today, folks. Pray for our nation. Pray for those who have given their lives for this uniquely good nation. And pray for the souls of those who signed that Declaration, always keeping in mind the document's final sentence:

"And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm Reliance on the Protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor."

We must do no less.

And an "Oh, by the way..." My parents, Martha and John McCarthy, married on July 4, 1935, 91 years ago today. Unlike today's celebrities they married in a simple ceremony, in a Catholic church and not in Madison Square Garden. It was a small, but devout nuptial Mass, an event great in God's eyes, an event for which I am eternally grateful.

God bless America.

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, as well as the other priests who gladly help our parish, and extend our heartfelt condolences, as you mourn the loss of this remarkable man who played such an important role in 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” (Mt 11:29-30).

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” (Mt 6:10). 

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” (Romans 14:10).

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, then he taught me, and finally 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 to you. 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 five 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.