A Three-Day Stay Away

At some point this Spring Dear Diane and I realized it had been about three years since we’d taken a vacation (not counting spiritual retreats, which really aren't vacations). In our pre-COVID existence, every year or so we would join up with our good friends, Nancy and Dave Lee, meeting somewhere between our two homes. The Lees live in Northern Virginia and we live in Central Florida, so there’s a lot of territory to choose from. We've spent time with them in Georgia, North Carolina, Williamsburg, and other fun spots.

Dave & Nancy - Friends for 50 years

Because the Lees have children and grandchildren in Florida, we convinced them to join us on a mini-vacation in lovely St. Augustine, a truly historic city on Florida’s northeast coast south of Jacksonville. After a few days with us, they could then visit at least that part of the Lee clan that resides in Florida. Traveling from our home to St. Augustine involves only a two-hour drive, all on Florida’s picturesque back roads. But for our dear friends it meant a flight from D.C. to Jacksonville, then a drive in a rental car to St. Augustine. I think our next get-together will likely be at a more neutral site.

Diane and Me at Our Lady's Shrine

Although we spent only two nights and parts of three days in St. Augustine, we had a wonderful time. The weather forecast seemed a bit iffy, but the predicted thunderstorms never really materialized. We took advantage of the hop-on-hop-off trolley that runs throughout the city’s historic and waterfront districts. Of course, at our age there wasn't a lot of "hopping," but the trolley turned out to be a pretty effective way to see the sights. On each trolley ride we were entertained by a different knowledgeable driver-guide who related fascinating stories of the people and events that formed St. Augustine throughout the city’s long history. 

Chapel: Our Lady of La Leche Shrine

Diane and I had visited the city a few times in the past, so it wasn't all new to us. Our hotel was directly across the street from the National Shrine of Our Lady of La Leche, which we visited on our last morning. We had hoped to attend Mass at the shrine’s church, but we had all misread the sign and couldn’t be there for the noon daily Mass. That was the anniversary of my diaconal ordination (26 years), but we celebrated quietly, thanking Our Blessed Mother for her constant intercession. The shrine, however, is a beautiful and very peaceful place -- a "must-see" if you visit St. Augustine.

We had a couple of wonderful meals in local restaurants. The first, right next door to the St. Augustine Distillery, was at the Fish Camp Restaurant, where we were served a lovely lunch. It's a popular place, especially for lunch, so get there early. And no, we didn't visit the distillery, simply because we were running late.

On our last evening together, we enjoyed a delicious dinner at the Conch House Restaurant, out on "The Island" as the locals call it. Fortunately, this particular island is connected to downtown by a drawbridge, so getting there is a breeze. Our dinner was just perfect, but even on a Tuesday evening we had about a 45-minute wait for a table. We spent the waiting time in the restaurant's bar, which is worth a visit. Halfway down a pier, it's decked-out in true nautical regalia, perfect for Dave and me, a couple of old retired naval officers.

If you occasionally visit Florida, and who doesn't these days, be sure to spend a day or two in St. Augustine. Just don't try to see everything on your first visit. It's one of those places you'll want to visit again and again.

Homily: Saturday, 21st Week in Ordinary Time (Year 2)

Readings: 1 Cor 1:26-31 • Psalm 33 • Matthew 25:14-30

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Today we celebrate the memorial of St. Monica, the mother of St. Augustine. She is known for her amazing patience, the depth of her prayer life, and her ability to deal with the challenges of a difficult marriage and rebellious children. Her pagan husband treated her poorly, but eventually was moved to become a Christian thanks to God's grace and Monica's kindness and patience. She also prayed for the conversion of her son, Augustine, who lived a dissolute life for many years. But after almost two decades of Monica's prayer and motherly love, God led him to the Church, where he became not only a bishop but one of our greatest theologians. St. Monica is the patron of wives, mothers, abused women, and patience.

And most interestingly for us at St. Vincent de Paul Parish, it was on her memorial eight years ago that our new church was dedicated by Bishop John Noonan...another good reason for us to celebrate today.

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I usually preach on the Gospel, but St. Paul took me captive the other day as I thought about this homily, and he brought back the memory of an old friend.

Years ago, back in my Navy days, I developed a friendship with another pilot. I was in my mid-20s and he was in his early 30s. Mel was a very competent pilot and naval officer, a man who taught me a lot. He was also an agnostic and found it hard to believe I could believe. One evening, after night flying, we stopped by the officers’ club for a beer, and got to talking about Christianity.

“Just look at the universe,” Mel said, “and how unbelievably immense it is. That you actually believe it was created by this God of yours is in itself truly amazing. But you Christians don’t stop there. You also believe this remarkable God decided to become one of us and came down to this tiny planet tucked away in a non-descript corner of the universe. And then he allowed us to kill him in a particularly brutal, savage way on a Cross. Isn’t that what you believe?”

“Well,” I agreed, “that’s certainly part of it. But you left a few things out. It was all done out of love for us, for those He created. It’s a bit like us. Why do we do what we do? Why are we willing to sacrifice our lives in this weird profession of ours? Because we love our country and think it’s worth dying for and we love our countrymen and think they’re worth saving. You see, Mel, we’re a little like God, created in His image and likeness, and at our best we come close to expressing the love He actually is.”

I really thought I had done pretty well, but Mel just shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. With that we headed back to our homes.

I lost touch with Mel years ago, so I don’t know if he ever changed his mind; but he came to my mind as I read today’s first reading. And I’m sure Mel would agree with Paul that the Cross is a sign of foolishness. How did Paul put it?

“For since in the wisdom of God the world did not come to know God through wisdom, it was the will of God through the foolishness of the proclamation to save those who have faith” [1 Cor 1:21].

But that’s not all, Paul went on to add:

“…we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” [1 Cor 1:24].

Yes, indeed, the message of the Cross – the Creative Word of God murdered by those He created – is for many a truly foolish message, so foolish it must be believed. But not just believed, dear friends; it must also be lived.

It is the Cross that saves us eternally, for the Cross is the Tree of Life: from Eden to Calvary, from Sin to Redemption. But the Cross also saves us in the here and now. Through the foolishness of the Cross we are given purpose in life. It saves and frees us from our deepest fears, from bitterness and despair, from hatred of others and hatred of self. It brings a forgiveness that saves marriages and families, and it beings healing of body, mind, and spirit.

Believe me, the power of our God – the power of Christ’s passion, death, and Resurrection – the power of His Cross is so far beyond our understanding, that in our humanity we can’t help but underestimate it

Over the years I’ve struggled to minister in hospitals and hospice, and in my weakness have come to appreciate God’s wondrous gifts to those He draws to Himself. I’ve seen anger turn to joy, despair to hope, fear to faith – all driven by God’s enduring love, a love manifested on the Cross, a love nailed to the Cross.

Do you see how real, how very serious, the foolishness of the Cross is? The rulers of the world, those filled with worldly wisdom, always try to tear down and destroy the Cross, but they will always fail.

As Paul went on to reveal, Christ crucified is “the power of God and the wisdom of God.” It is a power and a wisdom that Satan and the world cannot comprehend; for it is a Eucharistic power and a divine wisdom.

As you receive Jesus Christ today, contemplate your crucified Lord and Savior. For through that Communion, you receive His Body sacrificed for you and His Blood poured out for the forgiveness of your sins and the sins of the world. Filled with the grace of God, we will be well-armed to wield the only weapons that matter: truth and love and justice.

Life is a wondrous gift, brothers and sisters, and God wants us to experience the joy of a life well-lived. He wants us to savor the gift of each day just as a young child does. Then, like the good servant in the Gospel, we too might hear those words: 

“Well done, my good and faithful servant…Come share your master’s joy” [Mt 25:21].

 

St. Augustine Prayer for the Sick

Every so often I come across something that just strikes me as perfect. The other day a friend sent me the following prayer, apparently composed by the great St. Augustine. Involved as I am with funerals, cemetery committals, visits to the sick and homebound, and aware that many of my acquaintances are afflicted with illness or injury, I was struck by the beauty, the brevity, and the inclusion of the prayer. I intend to make it a part of my daily Evening Prayer.

            Prayer for the Sick

Watch, O Lord, with those who wake,

or watch, or weep tonight, and give

your angels charge over those who sleep.

Tend your sick ones, O Lord Christ.

Rest your weary ones.

Bless your dying ones.

Soothe your suffering ones

Pity your afflicted ones.

Shield your joyous ones.

And all for your love’s sake. Amen.

 

 

Homily: Saturday, 34th Week in Ordinary Time (Year 1)

Readings: Dn 7:15-27; Dn 3; Luke 21:34-36

Here I am, only a couple of years from 80, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a time when anxiety and fear have filled the hearts of so many.

COVID has had its effect on a lot of folks, and yes, many in my age group have succumbed to the virus, but in truth most have survived. And yet, so many are overcome by fear. And now the world is panicking over a new variant out of Africa.

To add to our anxieties, we have obvious inflation and a rising cost of living. Then, as we look at our nation and the world, we see far too much division and hatred and threats. Yes, it seems to be a time of very fragile peace, a time of real uncertainty. And yet Jesus tells us, again and again, not to be afraid, but so many seem to ignore Him.

About 35 years ago, back when I was a business consultant, I used to travel a lot. One Sunday afternoon, driving my rental car through the hills of Arkansas, I heard a radio preacher tell his audience that we were only a few years, perhaps just months, from the tribulations and the Second Coming. As I recall, he was the minister of a Free Will Baptist Church. Let me paraphrase what he said that day:

“Jesus is coming, brothers and sisters. But first He’s gonna let the earth be scoured by Satan and his minions. Don’t you be afraid of them. Put away all those fears and get ready for Jesus. He’s coming soon, real soon, and you’d better stop all that sinning. If you don’t call on the Lord and repent, you just won’t be strong enough.”

I have to admit, I loved it. Of course, Jesus hasn’t returned yet, so his timing was off, by how much nobody but God Himself knows. But the preacher’s message was actually pretty good and mirrors the words of Jesus in today’s Gospel passage from Luke. How did Jesus put it?

"Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life...Be vigilant... Pray that you have the strength to escape the tribulations" [Lk 21:34,36].

I’ll admit, many years ago, the first time I thought about those words, I had a hard time picturing those first-century Jews out carousing. In truth, though, I suppose they weren’t much different from us. Even The Villages has its share of carousing and drunkenness, and certainly its share of anxiety.

But we’re all disciples of our Lord, Jesus Christ, so we must allow Him to take away our fears. After all, the Gospel is the Good News, the promise of an eternal life beyond anything we can imagine.

If the gospel message is good news, then why do so many oppose it with hostility and even violence? Jesus warns us that we’ll be confronted with persecution, evil, false teaching, and temptation. But how does He tell us to respond to all this? With love, with truth, with forgiveness.

Only His Way, His Way of peace, His way of love, can defeat bigotry, hatred, and envy, and all that would divide and tear us apart.

Only God’s truth, His revealed Word, can overcome the lies and confusion in the world.

And only God’s gift of life, eternal life, can carry us to the salvation He promises.

Only Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life can dissolve all those fears that plague so many today.

I don’t know if you and I will see those tribulations… probably not. But we are still called to proclaim the Gospel wherever God has placed us – called to be to be witnesses.

Did you know the Greek root of the word martyr means witness? The Book of Revelations calls Jesus “the faithful witness ...who freed us from our sins by his blood" [Rev 1:5]. 

St. Augustine spoke of this too: "The martyrs were bound, jailed, scourged, racked, burned, rent, butchered – and they multiplied!" Christians multiplied because the martyrs witnessed to the truth, to the joy and freedom of the Gospel; and they did so through the testimony of their lives.

So maybe, instead of fearing the world and its evils, we should just be joyful that we have heard the Good News, received the gift of faith, and are called to share it all with others. What brings others to Jesus Christ and His Church is seeing Christians loving their enemies; seeing us joyful in suffering, patient in adversity, forgiving of injuries, and showing comfort and compassion to the hopeless and the helpless.

This, brothers and sisters, is our calling.

St. Jerome - History Repeating?

St. Jerome was born in Dalmatia around the year 340. Twenty years later he traveled to Rome where he was baptized. In Rome and in Trier, Germany he studied under some of the Church’s most eminent scholars. But Jerome was as much mystic as he was scholar. He went to the Holy Land, spent over five years in the desert engaged in prayer, penance, and study, finally settling in Bethlehem. There he lived and worked in a cave believed to be the birthplace of Jesus. He died in Bethlehem in the year 420, and his body is buried in Rome’s Basilica of St. Mary Major.

Jerome, along with St. Augustine, became one of the great scholars of his time. Augustine even declared , “What Jerome is ignorant of, no mortal has ever known.” Jerome was fluent in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and also Chaldaic, the common language spoken throughout much of the ancient Middle East. These skills provided him with the linguistic foundation that enabled him to achieve what most believe to be his greatest accomplishment, the translation of the entire Bible into Latin. This “Vulgate” translation was for centuries the only version of Sacred Scripture used by the Church.  

St. Jerome's Cave in Bethlehem

St. Jerome also lived during some very trying times as he witnessed the beginnings of the fall of the Roman Empire. Indeed, the Visigoths under Alaric actually sacked the city of Rome in the early days of the fifth century. Greatly disturbed by what the barbarians were doing to his world, Jerome made the following observations in the year 406, describing the devastation experienced throughout the Empire:

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"Nations innumerable and most savage have invaded all Gaul. The Whole region between the Alps and the Pyrenees, the ocean and the Rhine, has been devastated by the Quadi, the Vandals, the Sarmati, the Alani, the Gepidae, the hostile Heruli, the Saxons, the Burgundians, the Alemanni, and the Pahnonians.

Oh wretched Empire! Mayence [Mainz, Germany], formerly so noble a city, has been taken and ruined, and in the church many thousands of men have been massacred. Worms [Germany] has been destroyed after a long siege. Rheims, that powerful city, Amiens, Arras, Speyer [Germany], Strasburg, - all have seen their citizens led away captive into Germany. Aquitaine and the provinces of Lyons and Narbonne, all save a few towns, have been depopulated; and these the sword threatens without, while hunger ravages within.

I cannot speak without tears of Toulouse, which the merits of the holy Bishop Exuperius have prevailed so far to save from destruction. Spain, even, is in daily terror lest it perish, remembering the invasion of the Cimbri; and whatsoever the other provinces have suffered once, they continue to suffer in their fear.

I will keep silence concerning the rest, lest I seem to despair of the mercy of God. For a long time, from the Black Sea to the Julian Alps, those things which are ours have not been ours; and for thirty years, since the Danube boundary was broken, war has been waged in the very midst of the Roman Empire. Our tears are dried by old age. Except a few old men, all were born in captivity and siege, and do not desire the liberty they never knew.

Who could believe this? How could the whole tale be worthily told? How Rome has fought within her own bosom not for glory, but for preservation - nay, how she has not even fought, but with gold and all her precious things has ransomed her life...

Who could believe that Rome, built upon the conquest of the whole world, would fall to the ground? That the mother herself would become the tomb of her peoples? That all the regions of the East, of Africa and Egypt, once ruled by the queenly city, would be filled with troops of slaves and handmaidens? That to-day holy Bethlehem should shelter men and women of noble birth, who once abounded in wealth and are now beggars?

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St. Jerome’s words remind me of what a modern classical scholar, Dr. Victor Davis Hanson, recently said about our own nation and the many threats, both exterior and interior. it faces -- challenges that mirror those faced by fifth-century Rome.

“Every nation that has survived has had borders that were defensible and clear, and the idea that they have their own space to inculcate their language or traditions or customs, then enhance their constitution. Without that, it’s just short of a migratory, 5th century A.D. Rome where people come across the Danube River and destroy the nation-state…Identity politics is another natural human pathology where we identify by our superficial appearance, and when we start to do that we regress to something like the former Yugoslavia or Rwanda. And that trajectory will be our future unless we stop it and realize that we’re a very rare multiracial democracy that’s given up — each of us — our primary identities as race or [ethnicity] and have absorbed, instead, the idea of Americanism…Tribalism — we could use that word — is now endemic, and everybody is trying to find a tribal affiliation. It’s a search to find a cache, because if you are oppressed or a victim — victimized — then you feel that you have certain rights to compensation, or reparatory action from the government.”

Victor Davis Hanson

By the way, Dr. Hanson’s many books are all worth reading, and offer us remarkable insights into the similarities and differences between ancient and modern times. I’ve been reading him for years and have learned much from his words. Here’s a link to a brief article he wrote in 2013 in which he addresses the likely decline of America, a decline driven largely by governmental policies that attempt to redistribute wealth:  The Decline of America

One comment from the article is especially telling, and seems prophetically to point ahead eight years to our current situation:

“Given our unsustainable national debt — nearly $17 trillion and climbing — America is said to be in decline, although we face no devastating plague, nuclear holocaust, or shortage of oil or food.”

Okay, we haven’t suffered a nuclear attack — at least, not yet — but huge debt, plagues, and shortages certainly abound.

Pray for our nation and our world: “Come, Lord Jesus!” [Rev 22:20]

St. Augustine National Cemetery

A few years ago Diane and I spent a long weekend in St. Augustine, Florida. We stayed at the St. Francis Inn, an absolutely wonderful B&B, and enjoyed ourselves just roaming around the small city and seeing the sights. We did all the typical touristy things, popped in and out of galleries, stopped by the local winery, and sampled the food in several of the restaurants. But no meal could compare with the breakfast at our B&B. It was exquisite.

Among the many places we visited was one of the nation's smallest national cemeteries, the Saint Augustine National Cemetery. I was especially interested in visiting the cemetery because it contains the graves of the soldiers who were ambushed on December 28, 1835 by a large force of Seminole Indians. Led by Major Francis Dade, 108 soldiers perished. Only two or three soldiers and an interpreter managed to survive the attack. The actual battlefield -- the Dade Battlefield Historic State Park -- is located in Bushnell, Florida, right here in Sumter County, just a few miles from our home. Diane and I had visited the battlefield on several occasions, but never the cemetery where these men were all interred. The Florida Indian War lasted seven years from 1835 until 1842. The bodies of the slain soldiers had been buried at the site of the battle, and it wasn't until 1842 that the soldiers' remains were reinterred in St. Augustine.

The soldiers were buried in three mass graves, each marked by an unusual, large pyramid-like stone. An obelisk and memorial plaque also mark the site. In the below photo the three pyramids are visible in the background, behind the obelisk. I've also included a close-up of one of the pyramid markers.

These days the Florida Indian War is likely viewed by many as being eminently politically incorrect, but these men were all U.S. Army soldiers who were fulfilling their duties to protect the settlers in the Florida territory. (Florida didn't become a state until 1845.) Anyway, I refuse to cancel them and will instead include them among all those who gave their lives in service to our nation. It seemed only fitting to remember these men, as we remember so many others, on this Memorial Day.

Due to its size and age, the St. Augustine National Cemetery is "full" and conducts no new internments, so if, like me, you're an aging veteran, you have to choose another. But the cemetery is truly worth a visit if you're ever in St. Augustine.

Homily — Memorial: Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church (May 24)

Readings: Gen 3:9-15; Ps 87; John 19:25-34

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Today we celebrate a rather new feast, the Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church. Although instituted in 2018 by Pope Francis, it has its roots in apostolic tradition and in the witness of the Chrch Fathers.

For example, St. Augustine wrote that "The Virgin Mary...is acknowledged and honored as being truly the Mother of God and of the redeemer...She is clearly the mother of the members of Christ...since she has by her charity joined in bringing about the birth of believers in the Church, who are members of its head."

And, then, in the year 431 the Council of Ephesus gave Mary the title, Theotokos, a Greek word meaning “God Bearer” or “one who gives birth to God” or as we say today, “the Mother of God.” By giving her that title, the council didn’t mean that Mary was the Mother of God from eternity. But because Jesus Christ is true God and true man, and Mary gave birth to Him, she is, therefore, the Mother of God in time.

It’s the misunderstanding of the Church’s long-held teaching on this relationship between Mary and Jesus that has led some Christians to think that we Catholics worship Mary as some sort of goddess. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. From the reality of this relationship, we can fulfill her prophecy in the Magnificat and can call Mary the “Blessed Mother.”

Today’s reading from Genesis sets the stage at the very beginning when God promises redemption to our first parents, whose prideful disobedience brought humanity to its fallen state.

“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; He will strike at your head, while you strike at his heel” [Gn 3:15].

It is these words to Satan that the Church has long called the proto-Evangelium or “first Gospel” because they point to the Redeemer who will enter into the world through a new Eve, through Mary. It was a promise fulfilled when Gabriel told Mary:

“Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” [Lk 1:31-33].

Mary, then, knew from the first that this child of hers was the “Son of the Most High.” But in the years that follow, she is given only glimpses of what it will all lead to: the visits of shepherds and Magi, the prophecy at the Presentation, the long trek to Egypt, the Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem – in each event Mary finds herself in the dark, but in every instance, she ponders these things in her heart.

She need not fully understand it all, and how could she understand? And so, she ponders. She steps away from the crowd, seeks the quiet of contemplation, and savors all that has been revealed to her. She ponders, she returns to the source, to that day when the angel proclaimed her to be, “full of grace” [Lk 1:28], to that day when her heart overflowed.

And in that pondering, Mary teaches the Church how to pray, how to accept God’s will, how to abandon oneself to God’s love. The pondering heart of Mary focuses solely on Jesus. “Do whatever He tells you” [Jn 2:5], she commands at Cana, for Mary is single-hearted. She trusts in God, just as she trusted when Gabriel asked for her response.

At the foot of the Cross, that same trusting, pondering, immaculate heart begins to understand the crucifixion of her Son. It is then that Jesus gives her to the Church and to the world. It’s a double commissioning, and the order is important.

“Woman, behold, your son” [Jn 19:26], Jesus tells His Mother, commissioning her, giving the Apostle, giving the Church, to her.

Only then does He say to the Church, to that faithful Apostle, “Behold, your mother” [Jn 19:27].

With these words, the Mother of God becomes Mother of the Church. Now her prayerful heart is focused on you and me, interceding for our salvation. And as Mother of the Church, she intercedes too for unity among Christians.

I’m convinced that it will be through Mary, through her prayerful intercession that the unity Jesus Christ prayed for in the upper room will finally arrive. Fifty years ago, we never heard of Protestants praying the Rosary, but no longer. Today thousands join in this prayer of intercession. And just a month ago, as Diane and I drove through South Carolina, we passed a church with the surprising name: Virgin Mary Baptist Church.

Yes, indeed, Mary, Mother of the Church, is active interceding for the salvation of all. It is she whom we honor today, Theotokos, the Mother of God and Mother of the Church.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, pray for us. 

And please pray for me today on the 24th annversary of my ordination. As the old saying goes, "Time flies when you're having fun..."

Homily: Wednesday 6th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Gn 8:6-13, 20-22• Psalm 116 • Mk 8:22-26
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I can't speak for anyone else, but my conversion has been a long, often painful process, one that's still ongoing. It certainly wasn't instantaneous. I didn't have a Road to Damascus experience like St. Paul. 

But God does appear to me. He appears to me again and again. He does so through the others He sends into my life. Some are called and tell me so. Not long ago one person said to me, "I was praying and God told me to come to you about this." And it's usually something about which I haven't a clue. How do I deal with that? I don't. I just turn it over to God and ask Him what to do.

But most of those He sends me are just there. They appear in my life and they have a need. I'd like to say that I'm always ready to do what I can to help, but that would be a lie. Sometimes I turn away. Sometimes I make excuses. Sometimes I give a half-hearted response or send them to someone else. And, yes, sometimes I actually turn to God and ask for His help.

Faith for me has been a journey, a process, a long process, probably much longer than the Lord would like. And I suspect that's true for most people.

This is one reason why the saints sometimes discourage me more than they encourage me. Their holiness just seems impossible to imitate. Examining their lives we see what we are called to become, but we don't really see how to get there. That's why I like it when I come across one of those slightly more scruffy saints. You know what I mean, a saint with a past, one who led a sinful life before responding to God's grace.

St. Augustine is the first to come to mind. For a good part of his life he was far from saintly, but he went on to become one of the greatest saints in the early Church. Saints like Augustine give us hope and a glimpse of the mercy of God. They show us a loving God working patiently on intractable material. They show us the path, not just the destination.

Our readings give us a glimpse of the same thing. Several of the early Church fathers describe the passage in today's first reading as a process of worldwide purification or conversion. Noah and his family were brought to a safe haven because they obeyed God's will; they found salvation through a process that took both time, effort, and total trust.

Now this becomes even more apparent in the Gospel passage we just heard. Mark tells only two stories of Jesus restoring the sight of blind men. The first is the blind man in today's reading; the other is Bartimaeus [See Mk 10:46-52].

I've always thought that Mark wants us to see these two blind men as metaphors for the Christian community.  The man from Bethsaida in today's reading stands for the condition of most Christians, while Bartimaeus stands for where Mark would like us to be.

He Laid His Hands on Him

The man from Bethsaida comes across as hard to convert. At first he's only half-healed by Jesus. Compare him to Bartimaeus, who jumps up, runs to Jesus when called, and is healed instantly.

And yet, I find myself more sympathetic to the slow healer, the reluctant blind man who regains his sight slowly over time. Notice what Jesus does with him. First He pulls him away from the others, the skeptics, the curious, from those who might hinder his journey to faith. He needs to be alone with Jesus, up-close-and-personal with God.

Jesus leads him outside the village, for in the village - the place he came from - there is blindness, spiritual blindness. Jesus then begins the cure using what is almost a sacramental rite. He puts spittle on the man's eyes and lays his hands on him. And just as sacramental grace acts in our hearts and souls, the man's sight is then restored in stages as he responds to Jesus' healing touch. Jesus lays hands on the man twice with Mark recording this remarkable miracle in three short phrases: He looked intently and was restored, and saw everything clearly.

Jesus Alone with the Blind Man

Yes, brothers and sisters, that's what true conversion does: it lets us see everything clearly. And because conversion never ceases, Jesus sent him home with a warning to avoid the village, the place of spiritual blindness, the home of those who thrive only in darkness.

St. Jerome in the Desert (Da Vinci)

St. Jerome, the great Scriptural scholar and Father of the Early Church, explains the spiritual significance of this healing for us:  

"Christ laid his hands upon his eyes that he might see all things clearly, so through visible things he might understand things invisible, which the eye has not seen, that after the film of sin is removed, he might clearly behold the state of his soul with the eye of a clean heart."

We are, then, left to consider the spiritual blindness in our own lives, the blindness that obstructs our vision preventing us from following Jesus. What's keeping you and me from being the true disciple Jesus seeks?

Allow the Lord to lay hands on you, to touch you with his grace and power that you may walk in the light of his redeeming truth and love. 

Death Penalty and the Vinyard Owner

“Late have I loved you, beauty so old and so new: late have I loved you...You were with me, and I was not with you...You called and cried out loud and shattered my deafness. You were radiant and resplendent, you put to flight my blindness. You were fragrant, and I drew in my breath and now pant after you. I tasted you, and I feel but hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is yours.” -- St. Augustine

Decades ago if anyone had asked me if I supported capital punishment, I would have given an unequivocal positive answer. I saw no reason not to execute a criminal who'd been convicted of first-degree murder, especially if the circumstances of the crime were especially horrendous. And as a naval officer and naval aviator who had lost many friends in times of both war and peace, I felt the same about egregious acts of treason. These beliefs were unshakable, or so I thought, although I suppose I'd never seriously questioned them.

Earlier this week, on Wednesday morning, as I proclaimed the Gospel at daily Mass, I could not help but recall another morning, perhaps 25 years ago, when that same Gospel passage (Mt 20:1-16) was proclaimed at Sunday Mass. 

Even then I'd probably heard or read this passage about the generous vineyard owner a hundred times. I'd studied it years before in a New Testament course. And I'm sure I'd discussed it on several occasions with others. But I'd never considered that it had anything to do with capital punishment. Indeed, as the visiting priest began to preach on that long-ago Sunday morning, he focused entirely on social justice and the need to ensure working people received a living wage. I remember thinking he was certainly correct in that a living wage was a just wage, but I also found it curious that he said not a word about the "Kingdom of Heaven" which, at least according to Jesus, was the central theme of the parable. 

Anyhow, once I realized where the homilist was headed and that he intended to take some time to reach his destination, my mind began to wander. In my defense, my wanderings didn't stray too far from the subject at hand. In fact, I found myself thinking about the parable in a quite different way.

My thoughts that morning centered on all those last-hour hired hands in the parable, the ones who'd worked for only one hour and had yet received the full daily wage. I realized how merciful God is, how His justice is so different from the world's justice, how He continues to call us to repentance, and how He offers forgiveness and eternal life to all. If only we could be like God. If only we could be perfect as the Father is perfect. But because we so often insist on equating fairness with equality, God's generosity just doesn't make sense to us.

As I mulled this over my thoughts inexplicably turned to the death penalty, our most extreme punishment, a punishment designed effectively to shorten the lives of men or women convicted of serious crimes. And yet through capital punishment society quite possibly prevents those sinners most in need of God's saving mercy from experiencing the last-hour salvation God offers. God, of course, can and will act regardless of the designs and schemes of human beings. But we should not be testing God, in effect challenging Him to overcome the obstacles we place in the path of His holy will.

Yes, God will always prevail, but how arrogant of us to presume we can just trash God's greatest gift, the gift of life itself. The desired end of both murder and capital punishment is the destruction of life. It is this end, among other things, that makes murder sinful. By taking the life of another person the murderer attempts to usurp that which belongs to God alone, life and death. The use of deadly force in both self-defense and just war is, of course, a moral exception since its desired end is the protection of life and because all other means are either impractical or ineffective. 

Some consider the death penalty a societal form of self-defense from the most violent and depraved among us. This might make some sense if we were unable to incarcerate criminals safely and indefinitely. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (2267) addresses this clearly when it states:

"The traditional teaching of the Church does not exclude, presupposing full ascertainment of the identity and responsibility of the offender, recourse to the death penalty, when this is the only practicable way to defend the lives of human beings effectively against the aggressor. If, instead, bloodless means are sufficient to defend against the aggressor and to protect the safety of persons, public authority should limit itself to such means, because they better correspond to the concrete conditions of the common good and are more in conformity to the dignity of the human person. Today, in fact, given the means at the State's disposal to effectively repress crime by rendering inoffensive the one who has committed it, without depriving him definitively of the possibility of redeeming himself, cases of absolute necessity for suppression of the offender 'today ... are very rare, if not practically non-existent'" [John Paul II, Evangelium vitae 56].

Others call for the need to provide "closure" for the families and friends of victims, as if the death of a murderer will somehow restore the victim's life. Closure, of course, is simply a convenient euphemism for vengeance, and we should call it what it is, because vengeance is antithetical to Christian belief. After all, how can we pray daily the only prayer Jesus taught us, in which we say, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us" [Mt 6:12] -- how can we pray this and still accept the legitimacy of vengeance?

By listening only to the proclamation of the Gospel that Sunday morning, and disregarding a rather boring homily, I had experienced an epiphany, one that forced me to challenge my own opinions regarding capital punishment. I didn't experience an instant change of opinion, and this internal challenging continued for some time, ultimately leading me to question my earlier, strongly held beliefs.

A few years later -- actually on February 3, 1998 -- the state of Texas executed a woman by the name of Karla Faye Tucker. She had participated in two ghastly murders and was the first woman executed by the state of Texas in 135 years.

Karla Faye Tucker

Not long after her incarceration Tucker had experienced a total conversion to Christianity, and spent the next 15 years on death row. Although some questioned the sincerity of her religious beliefs, her final words to those who would witness her execution convinced all but the most cynical -- which, sadly, included then Texas Governor George W. Bush -- of the reality of her conversion. Her words:

"Yes sir, I would like to say to all of you — the Thornton family and Jerry Dean’s family — that I am so sorry. I hope God will give you peace with this. [She looked at her husband.] Baby, I love you. [She looked at Ronald Carlson.] Ron, give Peggy a hug for me. [She looked at all present weeping and smiling.] Everybody has been so good to me. I love all of you very much. I am going to be face to face with Jesus now. Warden Baggett, thank all of you so much. You have been so good to me. I love all of you very much. I will see you all when you get there. I will wait for you."

With Tucker's execution I experienced another epiphany of sorts. It caused me to question the stated purpose of our so-called correctional institutions. What exactly is their purpose? Do they aim to correct, to rehabilitate those who have committed serious crimes? Or are they institutions determined only to mete out punishment according to the latest societal or political whim? If a prisoner, regardless of the seriousness of the crime, truly repents, reforms, and becomes a new person in Jesus Christ, what do we do with him? And if this reformed prisoner -- one who has actually experienced the "correction" advertised by the institution -- is on death row, do we execute him anyway? Is this justice? Or is this simply vengeance?

Such questions lead one to make comparisons, to examine man's justice in light of God's justice. Should we be content as we crawl through life aware that we are more often than not acting unjustly? Or should we strive for the perfect justice God desires of us?

From the Christian perspective, Karla Faye Tucker was very fortunate. She experienced a conversion early in her incarceration, continued along the rocky path of repentance and forgiveness for the next fifteen years, but went to her death fully aware that she was loved by God. Because she had accepted God's forgiveness, she was able to forgive herself. It is noteworthy that she did not beg for forgiveness from the families of the man and woman whose lives she had taken. I'm sure she knew that forgiving her at that moment might be a hard thing for them, and a failure to forgive could even present an obstacle to their own salvation. No, she instead hoped God might give them His peace.

Still another concern related to the exercise of capital punishment by the state involves government's tendency to expand its influence and control over virtually all aspects of society. This is clearly evidenced in totalitarian regimes which try to control not only the actions and words, but even the thoughts of the people. And the most severe method of exercising such control is through the expansion of the death penalty as a punishment for so-called "crimes against the state."

We encounter this as well in some Muslim-majority states where sharia law is established as the law of the land or accepted as a legitimate alternative to a nation's constitutional law. Sharia, of course, rejects the concept of religious freedom and calls for capital punishment for those guilty of such religious wrongs as apostasy and blasphemy. I suppose in an Islamic theocracy, in which religious teachings pervade every aspect of the society and the state functions as Allah's agent, these "crimes" are considered crimes against both Allah and the state.

The citizens of constitutional republics in which capital punishment is permitted must remain vigilant. As the people allow their government to expand and become increasingly authoritarian, they can expect to encounter changes too in the application of capital punishment.

Two Cities

St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo

Over 1,600 years ago St. Augustine wrote his masterpiece, The City of God, in which he strove to convince his readers, then and now, that the entirety of human society, from its very beginnings until its yet to be encountered finality, has as its end the formation of a Holy Society. This society, toward which we are struggling, is the very reason everything, meaning the entire universe, was created. Certainly very few prior to Augustine, with the obvious exception of Jesus Christ Himself and the Mosaic author of Genesis, had ever considered human society in such expansive, universal terms. In other words, according to Augustine, this City of God not only includes the entire world, but explains its very existence. All of creation, therefore, has meaning only as it relates to this Holy Society, the City of God.

In his work, Augustine compares this City with the human city, which in Augustine's time was the city of Rome, and by extension the entire Roman Empire. Of course, at the time the Empire was under siege. Alaric and his Visigoths had recently shocked the Empire by a decade-long ravaging of Italy culminating in the sack of Rome itself (410 A.D.). The pagans, and there were still many Roman pagans, ignored Rome's decline and moral decay that had begun long before the Christian ascendancy and blamed Christians for the failure of Roman power to protect the capital. Augustine would have none of it. Through many pages of wonderful argument Augustine shows that the Roman city was really no true city because it lacked true justice. The only true city is the city that manifests true justice, and this can only be a city with Christ as its head. This is the City of God.

Alaric and the Visigoths Sack Rome (410 A.D.)

Today we inhabit both of these cities. We live and work and struggle in a city of man with its distorted sense of justice, peace, and well-being. For many of this city's inhabitants justice has come to mean only order, peace only the absence of conflict, and well-being only material prosperity. Such attitudes can easily lead a worried populace to accept a level of authoritarianism that promises stability and safety. But with that authoritarianism comes its partner, injustice. Hitler's Germany, Stalin's Soviet Union, Mao's China and too many others all morphed from authoritarianism to totalitarianism and brought injustice on a massive scale to their enslaved people. Lest we become complacent, it's important to understand that no nation, even a constitutional republic such as ours, is immune. Just glance back through our own recent history to a time when American citizens were confined in camps and stripped of their liberty and property because of their national origin or ancestry; or when an entire class of citizens were deprived of their constitutional rights because of the color of their skin. Yes, even the United States has sometimes succumbed, although it has struggled mightily to correct some of these injustices. But injustice continues simply because it will always be present in the city of man. Indeed, today our nation allows the slaughter of its most innocent, the unborn, an injustice that has cost the lives of over 50 million future citizens.

The city of man offers us a series of imperfect choices of the kind we now encounter in the upcoming election. And because we must inhabit this city, we must choose. We must choose one candidate or another or none at all. But whatever our choice, as Christians we should be aware that no election will ever lead to a society of perfect justice, despite the predictions of the candidates and hopes of the people who support them.

I'm not advocating an abdication of our civic responsibility or a pulling away from human society. We must still live and work; we must pay our taxes; we must respect legitimate civil authority; but in all these we must avoid doing evil. St. Paul reminds us of all this in Romans 13, calling us as Christians to be good citizens in the city of man

This doesn't mean that we don't confront our society when it falls short of God's will for it. After all, as individuals and as a society, we must always obey God's commandments: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments" [Jn 14:15]. And we must encourage our fellow citizens to do the same, to turn to God in love and to obey His commandments, which were given to us for our good and the good of society as a whole. But we cannot expect political solutions to cure all our societal ills. For example, I have long believed that the end of the scourge of abortion will never come about through political means. Such a change -- a change in a society's deep-seated morality, in its sense of justice -- demands a real change in the hearts of its citizens, and that can happen only when those citizens turn to God in repentance and love. We repent because we are a society of sinners and we love because God commands it. How did St. Paul put it?

"Love does no evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of the law" [Rom 13:10]

And with what words did Jesus begin his public ministry? "Repent and believe in the Gospel" [Mk 1:15]. If we, as a society, obey this timeless command of our Lord we will see the coming of the City of God. This is why the Church constantly preaches that its primary task is one of evangelization, and why all Christians are called to join in this effort. We are called to do God's work in the world, to bring about the Holy Society Augustine foresaw so long ago. No politician will do this for us.

Pray for our nation.