It Begins (Irma #4)

The rains and wind have arrived in earnest. We're already on the receiving end of tropical storm force winds and the rain is coming down in buckets. It's hard to believe this is just a first taste of Irma's power. She is one very large storm, larger than any I've experienced, well over 500 miles in diameter. The forecast for our area is not encouraging. She will strengthen and hammer us throughout the night and into tomorrow.

A few moments ago I stepped out on the lanai and noticed that water is beginning to pool in the area between the houses. There's pretty good drainage back there but I'm not real confident it can keep up with a storm of this intensity. When hurricane Frances hit us back in 2004 we experienced some significant flooding behind our house, but it eventually drained off and did no damage. Water also seeped in under the front door. Fortunately we managed to sop it up with dozens of towels until the rains stopped. But we've had so much rain this summer that I'm afraid the ground is already waterlogged. We'll see.

Maddie viewing the empty lanai

Adding to the excitement are the tornadoes that accompany Irma. A dozen or so have already popped up in central and eastern Florida with several causing serious damage by uprooting trees and destroying mobile homes. One TV meteorologist commented that well over 10% of Floridians live in mobile and manufactured homes, a fact that explains why they are so often the target of severe weather: there's just a lot of them. The only good thing about hurricane-embedded tornadoes is their size and duration: they tend to be small and they don't last long.

Oh, yes, for those of you concerned about our lizards, on my brief visit to the lanai I noticed that Leo, the largest of our three lizards, apparently decided to come out of hiding. The below photo shows him comfortably waiting out the storm. We are pleased that all three seem to be doing well, and trust they will make it through the "dark and stormy night."  

Leo, the largest of our lizards

We still have electricity, telephone, cable and internet; and this is good. At my age the idea of reverting to a more primitive lifestyle is unappealing. Whether all of these modern conveniences will still function tomorrow morning is anyone's guess, but I'm hoping for the best.

Martyrdom of St. Erasmus (Elmo)

Interestingly, when it comes to things electrical or electronic, Diane always asks St. Elmo to intercede. This all began when I once described the phenomenon known as "St. Elmo's Fire," a form of electrical discharge that sometimes appears on the masts and rigging of ships. Because sailors considered them to be signs of St. Elmo's protective concern, they named the phenomenon after him. The patron saint of sailors (and I suppose that includes me), Elmo is more properly known as St. Erasmus of Formia. I suppose Elmo is just a nickname preferred by sailors. And here's an amazing  coincidence: St. Elmo and St. Vitus (remember him from my first Irma post) were both martyred in the same year, 303 A.D. Isn't that remarkable? Our two patrons -- Elmo, Diane's patron of things electrical, and Vitus, the patron of protection from storms -- returned to the Father at about the same time.

And so I ask that you join with us as we turn to these two saintly martyrs in prayer, asking for their combined intercession for all who are in the path of this devastating storm. 

God's peace.

Homily - Saturday, 3rd Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 2 Sm 12:1-7a, 10-17; Ps 51; Mk 4:35-41

Link to Video of Homily: Click Here
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Have you ever been afraid for your life? Given the age of most of us here today, I suspect we’ve all had one or two life-threatening experiences. For some it may have been the diagnosis of a serious illness. For others it may have been a dangerous situation that you survived, one of those sudden near misses. During my many years as a Navy pilot I certainly had my share of the latter, and I have vivid memories of them all. I’ll share one with you this morning.

I was flying a helicopter on a very dark night in the northern Pacific, up near the Aleutian Islands. We had left Adak, an island in the Aleutians that attracted no tourists, and were returning to the ship. The seas were especially rough, with high winds and a water temperature near freezing.

We were about 15 miles from the ship when we heard a loud bang from the main transmission – that’s the huge gearbox that connects the two jet engines to the rotor system. We then started getting other, serious indications of a rapidly worsening problem. Believe me, if the main transmission freezes, the main rotor system will do the same, and that’s never a good thing. And if we ended up in the water, our chances of survival in that dark, stormy, ice-cold environment were very slim.

So we followed all the proper emergency procedures and made our way to the ship, hoping we could land before everything failed. I asked my copilot and two crewmen to pray, and the three of them – a Mormon, a Southern Baptist, and an agnostic – agreed that this was good idea.

Surprisingly, as they prayed and I tried to keep us in the air, I found myself thinking of today’s Gospel passage from Mark. It’s strange how such thoughts just pop into your mind when you least expect them..

You see, like the apostles the first thing we experienced was fear, fear in a storm over which we had no control. Wondering whether Jesus were awake or asleep, I uttered my first prayer: “Wake up, Jesus. It’s scary out here, and you’ve got some quieting words to say.”

But then, remarkably, as I prayed this most imperfect of prayers, I was overcome by a sense of complete peace – and peace always brings change. What had been a frantic plea, uttered in fear, was transformed into a prayer of praise and thanksgiving; for somehow I knew that all would be well.

As you can see by my presence here today, we made it back safely. But right after we landed on that aircraft carrier’s deck, as I began to shut down the engines, the main transmission froze. The subsequent engineering investigation couldn’t explain why it hadn’t failed instantly, why it kept working for those miraculous 10 or 15 minutes we needed to return to the ship.

After landing, the four of us – even the agnostic – joined hands and offered a brief prayer of thanksgiving. For we four had learned something that dark night. We had learned that the absence of faith is not doubt, but fear.

"Be not afraid,” Jesus tells us again and again. Recall how he rebuked the apostles in today’s passage from Mark:  “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” [Mk 4:40] With this He confirms the connection between fear and lack of faith.

But once we began to pray, once we turned to God in faith, weak as it was, our fears began to melt away. Each member of my crew later told me that God had simply pulled all the fear from their hearts. It was a time when God revealed Himself and His saving power to each one of us.

Brothers and sisters, the antidote to fear is faith, a gift freely given, but one that you and I must freely accept. Let God fill your hearts with His love; accept His gift of faith so there’s no room for any fear. Let Him calm your soul as He calms the wind and the sea. Just remember, Jesus won’t calm your soul without your consent, without your faith in His power to do so.

In the Gospel the disciples marvel at Jesus as one “whom even wind and sea obey”. But even more marvelous is a disciple who, in the midst of life's crises, turns to God in faith and obedience.

Rain & Rain, Children & Grandchildren

If Florida has learned one thing these past few days, it's that you can have too much rain, even after a draught. Maybe another lesson is: be careful what you pray for.

Tropical storm Fay apparently decided it liked our state so much that it intends to hang out here for an extended period of time. Here in The Villages it hasn't been too bad, but some communities over on the east coast have been inundated with over two feet of rainfall. As you might imagine, flooding has been a major problem and driven many from their homes. Pray for them.

Our household suffers from only a minor problem: the fact the our four grandchildren have been cooped up in the house for almost their entire visit. For little ones, seven and under, this isn't an easy thing (and, trust me, it's no picnic for the adults either). We've managed to get them to the neighborhood pool one day, and have made several excursions to the local Walmart, but that's been about it. And so we're hopeful that the remaining 11 days of their visit will include at least a few sunny days so we can venture out to see the alligators and manatees.

The Census Bureau recently released a not so sunny report claiming that an increasing number of women in their 40s are childless and that in general women are having fewer children. This, of course, should not be a surprise to anyone who has been following the demographic trends in Western Europe. It would seem that, as a people, we in the West, who once proudly called our civilization, "Christendom," are now committing a form of slow suicide.

The report, based on a 2006 American Community Survey, includes another interesting but depressing statistic. It seems that 28 percent of children born in 2005 were born to mothers who had never been married. And so not only are we gradually wiping out what's left of our civilization by not having a sufficient number of children to replace those who die, but a growing number of us apparently believe marriage and the traditional family are irrelevant. If you'd like to view the entire report (PDF file), click here. Like most statistical reports spewed out by government agencies, it's tedious and chock full of numbers that can lead to all sorts of erroneous conclusions...so have fun.

Today Pope Benedict did something particularly moving. He spoke publicly about his older brother, Msgr. Georg Ratzinger, during a ceremony at which he presented his brother with the honorary citizenship to Castel Gandolfo, the town of the Pope's summer residence. "He has always shown me the path to take, also in difficult situations," the Pope said. "My brother has mentioned the fact that we have arrived at the last stage of our life, old age. The days of life are reduced progressively...But also in this stage my brother helps me to accept with serenity, humility and courage the burden of each day. I thank him."

This brief address at this little ceremony, an event that will probably be ignored by the secular press, offers real insight into Pope Benedict's naturally humble nature. In Benedict we have a Pope with the courage to accept the awesome mantle of papal responsibility, but with the humility to know that no man is worthy of the honor of being Christ's Vicar in earth. And in his humility he credits his older brother as one who guided him throughout his life: "From the beginning of my life," the Pope said, "my brother has always been not only a companion to me but also a guide worthy of trust."

It was this humility that so impressed me when I had my brief encounter with the then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger back in 2000. That he would stop and chat with me, a semi-crazed American deacon, for five minutes on a Roman street was remarkable. But that he actually seemed interested in what I had to say and even posed for a photograph with me is further evidence of the kindness of this man. Then, a month later, when I sent him a copy of the photograph which had appeared in an article in our diocesan newspaper, he responded with a lovely personal letter that I cherish to this day.

And so, Pope Benedict teaches us even through life's simple events. He teaches us that the family matters, that every man, no matter his position, owes much to others who have helped and guided him along the way. It has caused me to recall those who helped and guided me throughout my life. I think tomorrow I'll send those who are still alive notes of thanks.

Oh, yes, and like the Holy Father, I'll thank our loving and merciful God who has given us everything.

On Death Camps, Hope and Love

Last week, at his general audience at Castel Gandolfo, Pope Benedict focused on two 20th Century martyrs, St. Teresa Benedicta (Edith Stein) and St. Maximilian Mary Kolbe, who both suffered martyrdom at the hands of the Nazis in Auschwitz, Poland. I was particularly struck by one the Holy Father's comments: "It would seem that their existence could be regarded as a defeat, but it is precisely in their martyrdom that the brilliance of Love shines which conquers the darkness of egoism and hatred. Attributed to St. Maximilian Kolbe are the following words which it is said he pronounced at the height of the Nazi persecution: 'Hatred is not a creative force: Love alone is.'"

His comments had special meaning to me because of an experience I had back in 1951, when I was just a lad of seven. My father, an Army Reserve officer, was recalled to active duty and sent to Germany. My mom, my older brother and I joined him soon afterwards in Heidelberg where we lived "on the economy" in a fourth-floor, walk-up, cold-water flat on a little street called Schlosserestrasse -- quite a change from our nice, suburban home in Larchmont, NY. It was an interesting experience. I attended school in a tiny one-room schoolhouse run by Frau Scharmer, a lovely young teacher. As I recall there were about a dozen students, and I was one of two Americans. The other was a girl of eight -- an older woman. I avoided her.

This was in 1951-52, so the war was by no means a distant memory. Germany, along with much of the rest of Europe, was still digging out from under the rubble and, with the help of the Marshall Plan, was rebuilding its devastated infrastructure and at the same time building a new nation.

My father, who believed that a person learned as well from experience as from formal education, took us on frequent short trips to help us experience the country and its people. On one trip to Munich, he decided we should visit Dachau, one of the notorious concentration camps where so many perished. Some might think it cruel and abusive to take young children to such a place with its crematoria and mass graves and bleak barracks, but believe me I have often thanked my dad for the experience. Although many of my childhood memories are vague and indistinct, I can recall those few hours at Dachau with remarkable clarity. And if I learned anything from that day in Dachau it was the same lesson stressed by Pope Benedict: that hatred only destroys, and that God's love is the only true creative force.

It seems odd to me that Auschwitz and Dachau and the Gulags and 911 and the myriad other examples of man's capacity for hatred and cruelty lead so many people to question the existence of a loving God. To me these are instead proofs of it. Left to our own devices we would have destroyed ourselves long ago. It is only through the love and mercy of God that we are able to survive and overcome the effects of original sin . And such martyrs as Teresa and Maximilian and the countless others who preceded and followed them are beacons of hope to the world, outward manifestations of God's love and its power to transform us all...if only we let it.

Storm update: It would seem that Fay has wimped out...thanks be to God. We will likely get lots of needed rainfall, accompanied perhaps by some moderate winds -- just enough bad weather to intensify the grandchildren's cabin fever, but mild enough to keep us all safe and sound. Life is good. Being is good.

Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever...

Storms, Papal Fur...

Imagine being stuck in a relatively modest retirement home with four grandchildren aged 1 to 7 awaiting the arrival of a tropical storm (and possible hurricane). Well, that's exactly the position I'm in. The youngest (Eduardo) is taking a nap while the other three watch some strange cartoon DVD. Mom and Grandma are out shopping for the staples needed to replenish the larder before the storm arrives. And I'm sitting in my comfortable overstuffed chair typing away while listening to Handel on my noise-canceling headphones. Somehow I can't picture our ancestors doing anything similar with a storm bearing down on them. Of course our ancestors wouldn't have known a storm was approaching until it was almost upon them. Which is worse, suffering through the week-long Weather Channel hype as the forecasters salivate over the possibility of reporting on another destructive storm, or being blindsided by a hurricane that seemingly comes out of the blue? Obviously the latter, but all the TV hype still irritates. And naturally we hope and pray that Fay changes course and either blows harmlessly out to sea or just peters out and simply provides our southern states with some needed rainfall. The photo shows the four little ones, obviously very nervous about the upcoming storm, gathered in that same comfortable, overstuffed chair.

Here's an interesting one that just reinforces the conviction that insanity reigns among a vocal if insignificant portion of the population. The animal "rights" folks in Italy petitioned Pope Benedict asking him to stop wearing any of the traditional papal fur-lined garments. Doing so would, they believe, be a sign of "love and peace to give a strong signal towards the protection of animals and the environment through a small but very significant personal sacrifice." (See CNS story.) But the best part is a response by Cardinal Andrea Cordero Lanza di Montezemolo (Apostolic Nuncio Emeritus to Italy) : "There are human beings who merit more urgent assistance that no one is taking care of. And if we eat animals, we can wear them." Well said, Eminence.

Brief post today. Grandchildren call and hatches must be battened down.

Love the Lord and pray for His people.