Homily: Monday, 31st Week in Ordinary Time

I have embedded a video of my homily from this past Monday of the 31st week in Ordinary Time. The full text of the homily follows the video.

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Readings: Rom 11:29-36; Ps 69; Lk 14:12-14

An old friend of our family, a Jew who converted to Catholicism, used to talk a lot about his father, an orthodox rabbi. I remember him once saying that his father would often criticize his fellow Jews because they tried to turn God into a mensch. Now “mensch” is a German word that in Yiddish evolved into a term for a true human being, a person of honor. “But God,” the rabbi would say, “is no mensch. He’s God.”

St. Paul, a Pharisee, rabbi, and teacher, says much the same thing in today’s reading from Romans:

"Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How inscrutable are his judgments and how unsearchable his ways!" [Rom 11:33]

In other words, God is no mensch. He’s neither like us, nor a kind of superman. Paul continues, though, with a prayer, a doxology, to ensure we understand that God is…well, beyond our understanding:

For who has known the mind of the Lord or who has been his counselor? Or who has given him anything that he may be repaid? For from him and through him and for him are all things. To God be glory forever. Amen. [Rom 11:34-36]

Yes, indeed, as God reminded His prophet, Isaiah:

"My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways" [Is 55:8]. 

I think sometimes, perhaps more than sometimes, we forget this and try to re-create God in our image, to turn Him into just another good guy, to turn Him into a mensch. But Jesus disabuses us of this error, and in today’s Gospel passage from Luke, shows us how very different are God’s ways from ours.

Jesus had been invited to dine at the home of a Pharisee, and yet He asked his host to look into himself and examine his motives. 

Who do you bring into your home, the rich and famous? And why do you share your bounty with them? Is it only to ingratiate yourself with them, so they will invite you in turn? Indeed, Mr. Pharisee, why did you invite me here today? Is it just because I’m a local celebrity and you hope my fame will rub off on you?

His words hit home, don’t they? It was the hypocrisy of the Pharisees that Jesus so often condemned. Yes, in their obsessive concern for the minutia of the law, they neglected God’s greatest commandment: the command to love, to love God above all things and neighbor above self.

St. Charles Borromeo, whose memorial we celebrate today, once wrote these words to the priests he supervised:

Be sure that you first preach by the way you live. If you do not, people will notice that you say one thing, but live otherwise, and your words will bring only cynical laughter and a derisive shake of the head.

Sixteen years ago, when Diane and I first began helping out at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen, I encountered a few strange attitudes. For example, one of our volunteers, who served our desserts, expected a certain kind of behavior from our guests. If someone said nothing when she handed them a dessert, she’d challenge with, “You didn’t say, ‘Thank you.’”

This, of course, had to change, so we issued a policy statement that stated: 

Each Soup Kitchen guest honors us by accepting our hospitality, which we interpret as their deepest heart-felt gratitude.

In other words, their being there is thanks enough.

Oh, yes, brothers and sisters, we are so much like the Pharisees. Always looking for a payback, aren’t

we?

We had those new neighbors for dinner six months ago, but they’ve never invited us back. Can you believe it?

But have we opened our homes and our hearts to those who can’t return the favor, to those who thank us only by their presence? Have you and I invited the rejected of the world into our homes? When did the poor, the lonely, the lame, and the blind sit around our table? There are a lot of lonely people in our community, in every neighborhood, people who feel abandoned by others, who think themselves abandoned by God.

But you and I are called to do God’s work, to go to the abandoned and show them God’s love. You don’t have to look for them. They’re all around us; you know who they are.

St. Charles said something else: “With charity – love – no man is lost; without it no man is saved.” 

The call to love others is really just a call to humility, isn’t it? To realize we are no greater, indeed we are often much farther from God than the poor in spirit who cry out silently in their suffering.

Yes, brothers and sisters, humility is a demanding virtue. It takes greatness to become little, strength to become weak, and wisdom to embrace all that Jesus demands of us, to embrace the folly of the Cross. 

And it’s in the Cross, it’s in the crucified Jesus that we encounter the divine paradox: the humility and the greatness and the otherness of God. 

Some years ago I noticed a sign in front of a small, rural church. On it were the words:

His Timing

His Way

His Story

His Glory

Yes, indeed, it's all His.

Homily: 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

I have embedded a video of this homily below. The complete text follows the video.

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Readings Gn 18:1-10a; Ps 15; Col 1:24-28; Lk 10:38-42
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Shortly after we moved to Florida, my wife, Diane, decided to help out at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen. And like a good deacon, who always listens to the deacon's wife, I too was volunteered. Diane's now been the Thursday cook for 15 years and I continue to do whatever she tells me every Thursday. 

It's really a wonderful ministry, though, a true ecumenical ministry in which over 250 volunteers from 30 local churches participate. Last year we served or delivered over 90,000 meals and will no doubt exceed that number this year.

Now, one thing I've learned from this experience is that people volunteer for all sorts of reasons.

Some love to cook, and just can't pass up the opportunity to spend a morning cooking 300 meals.

Some don't know what to do with the free time that retirement brings, and volunteer just to stay busy.

For others it's a kind of social event, a chance to form friendships with other volunteers.

Some volunteer out of a sense of guilt. Their affluence is a burden to them, and they hope to ease that burden by helping those in need.

Some simply want to serve others, and the soup kitchen is a wonderful way to satisfy that need.

We serve Jesus Christ

And some, and I wouldn't try to guess how many, volunteer out of love. They see Jesus Christ in every person they serve and are overwhelmed by a love for God and neighbor. They might not especially enjoy the work itself, but they come anyway. They volunteer solely out of love, following the Gospel mandate to feed the hungry and welcome the stranger. Indeed, that's our guiding principle at the soup kitchen: 

"We don't serve meals; we serve Jesus Christ."

When it comes right down to it, it's really a ministry of hospitality; and yet those who exercise this ministry are driven by so many different motives. We encountered just this in today's Gospel reading from Luke.

Jesus Christ, Son of God and Son of Man, the fullness of life and truth, walked into the home of a pair of sisters named Martha and Mary. Both women immediately recognized the privilege of having Jesus in their home and set to work fulfilling the sacred duty of hospitality. But the two sisters had conflicting ideas of what that duty entailed. 

Martha's response is very recognizable, typical of how most of us would probably react. Open the best wine, the expensive stuff, and brew some good coffee. Get out the good china and silver. Use whatever food you have in the pantry to whip up your best assortment of hot and cold dishes. And hope He won't want a dessert. 

My mother's name was Martha. When I was about 16, I asked her if she'd be like Martha in the Gospel if Jesus came to our house for dinner. Without a moment's hesitation, she said, "Oh, no, I'd call a caterer."

But while Martha was busying herself in the kitchen, Mary took a different approach to hospitality. For her, the greatest compliment she could pay, greater even than the best of foods, was to give Jesus her full attention.

It's interesting that we hear nothing from Mary in this passage, but we sense she somehow knew that Jesus, the fullness of truth, had come to her home to nourish, enlighten, and transform her. She saw Jesus as a gift, and not to receive and unwrap this wonderful gift was an insult to the giver. And so Mary listened; she listened to the Word as He spoke the Word. Mary became to Jesus what no rabbi at the time would allow any woman to become...Mary became His disciple.

This was pretty radical stuff back then. Women were expected to prepare and serve the meals, and certainly wouldn't be praised for taking part in the discussions. Luke stresses that Jesus takes women seriously, that He came for everyone, men and women, and that salvation comes to all who listen to His Word and act on it.

Luke certainly doesn't relate this incident to endorse laziness, just as Martha isn't criticized because she attended to her guest's physical needs. In our first reading from Genesis, when God, in the form of three travelers, visits Abraham, it's good that Abraham and Sara spare no expense. 

No, Martha's hospitality isn't the problem; but she allowed the activity of hospitality to become an end in itself. She subordinated discipleship to hospitality. Hospitality, by becoming an end, also became a distraction, and turned her into a bit of a fussbudget, so much so that she actually got angry with her sister for not joining her. You can almost feel the tension and pressure building up until it boils over and Martha vents her frustration...but she vents it on the wrong person.

Notice that Martha attacks, not Mary, but Jesus Himself: 

"Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving?" [Lk 10:40]

How authentically human of Martha - to work out her frustrations on the wrong person, what Freud would have called displaced aggression. 

Now, were I in Jesus' place, my reaction would be, "Hey, Martha, why blame me?"  But not Jesus. He turns to her, and repeating her name -- "Martha, Martha..." -- calms her down.

Lord, do you not care...?

Yes, Martha, as Jesus reminded her, was "anxious and worried about many things." He doesn't rebuke her for serving Him - not at all. He simply tells her there's something more important. He underlines the truth: they are blessed who hear the Word of God and keep it. 

I'm sure a lot of you here remember the old Baltimore Catechism answer to the question, "Why did God make you?" Remember? "God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in heaven." It's still a very good answer. Before we can serve God, we must first know Him and love Him.

If our lives are spent solely in activity - only in the serving - we can't take the time to know our God through prayer and attentiveness to His Word. It's through prayer, listening to His Word, and the grace of the sacraments, that we can come to know God, and develop the kind of personal relationship that Jesus wants with us. It's only through that relationship that we can continue to deepen our love for God. 

And it's through our love for God that we come to see Him in others, and can accept the call to serve Him by serving them. Our service, then, must be grounded in love; for it is love, and only love, that calls the Christian to serve others: 

"Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me" [Mt 25:40].

And so for Christians, the two great commandments - loving God and loving our neighbor - merge into one, a single commandment of love. Yes, hearing and reflecting on the Word of God in prayer is a condition for true, selfless, loving service of the Body of Christ.

Of course, Martha didn't appreciate this...at least, not at first. And so she worried, and was anxious about things, as so many of us are. How human and how easy it is for you and me, just as it was for Martha, to become obsessed with busyness, to move those things - those things that are really just accidental parts of our lives -- to the center of our lives. And in doing so to send the true center of our lives to the sidelines.

Brothers and sisters, this just cannot be.

The fullness of truth, the fullness of life, the fullness of grace deserves our full attention. Jesus can't be merely a part of our lives, but must be the focus of our lives, always at the very center.  

In our excessively busy lives today, too often we don't spend time on the important things. When Jesus knocks on your door and my door, when He enters our lives, just as He enters the soup kitchen dozens of times every day, certainly we should serve Him. But we should serve Him in love and attentiveness; listening to Him; and not allowing our service of receiving Jesus to distract us from Jesus Himself.

Tragedy and Joy

Down Syndrome is a genetic condition typified by the presence of an extra (third) chromosome 21 in the body's cells. Its cause is still unknown. It is usually not an inherited condition and occurs among all races, nationalities, and socio-economic groups. Although the chances of having a Down Syndrome baby increase with the age of the mother, younger mothers still give birth to the majority of Down Syndrome babies.

I suspect most of you reading these words know someone with Down Syndrome. I have known many in my life, and each has been a blessing to me and many others.

Sadly, though, because these children require additional care -- a euphemism for sacrifice -- the enlightened of our increasingly self-centered society believe Down Syndrome children are too inconvenient to live. They want all parents to enjoy the "good life" to the fullest. How can they do this if they must care for a child with special needs? And, of course, we cannot ignore the additional costs that must be borne by society. Wouldn't it be better and cheaper if these children were never born?

For example, Iceland, that small island nation in the North Atlantic with a population of only about 350,000 people, is very proud of the fact that it has eliminated Down Syndrome. That's right. According to the Icelandic government, no Down Syndrome babies are now born in Iceland.

How did they accomplish this? Simple. They killed them all before they were born by aborting them. And for this Iceland celebrates.

But there's more to the story. The people of Iceland celebrate these abortions with prayer cards. Yes indeed, according to an Icelandic pro-abortion, prenatal counselor, she gives parents "a prayer card with the footprints of an aborted baby. Parents can keep these footprints and prayer cards as a memento of their aborted child." This is so repugnant it is beyond comment and speaks for the depravity, the decadence of our modern Western Civilization. How far we have fallen since the days of Christendom. (For more, see this report: Iceland Kills 100% of Babies with Down Syndrome.)

Iceland is not alone. Most of Western Europe is following the same path. In Germany the growing abortion rate for Down Syndrome babies is causing some to make parallels with the Nazi policies of the past. (Read about it here.)

Sadly, we see similar policies in the United States where far too many Down Syndrome children meet their deaths through abortion. Pro-life political solutions are increasingly difficult to implement because the courts at all levels are so infected with a pro-death bias. Just last December the Ohio state legislature, in a rare act of political courage, passed a law, which Governor John Kasich signed, prohibiting the abortion of Down Syndrome babies.

Pro-Abortion Protestors in the Ohio Senate Chamber

The ACLU -- an organization dedicated to supporting the civil liberties of everyone except the unborn and Christians -- sued, claiming the law was unconstitutional. (Read more here.) The ACLU and its fellow travelers simply couldn't stand the idea that one of these little ones might actually be born. And, then, like a true member of the pro-death hive, U. S. District Court Judge Timothy S. Black agreed with the ACLU and blocked the law, calling it an invasion of privacy. Imagine that! To save the life of the most innocent among us has become an invasion of privacy.

Fortunately -- although I suspect too few will notice -- the Holy See has spoken explicitly about the attempts to eliminate Down Syndrome children through abortion, referring to it as a "great hate crime." (Read more here.)

Pope Francis and a Down Syndrome girl

That so many in our so-called civilized world wish that these children of God cease to exist is more than troubling. It is nothing less than a return to barbarism. Actually, barbarism is probably too kind a word since most barbarians would probably choose to cherish and not dispose of these beautiful souls.

Let me write briefly about one young man. I met Michael several years ago when he became one of our parish altar servers. But Diane and I really came to know Michael well when he and his mom, Judie, joined our Thursday team at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen. Michael's dad, Glenn, also joined this ministry when we needed someone to sweep and mop the floors at the end of the day, and Glenn volunteered. It became a true family affair. Dear Glenn returned to the Father just a few months ago, and we miss him dearly. But Michael's strong faith, the same childlike faith Jesus asks of all of us, gives him the assurance that his dad is now with his God interceding for his family. 

My good friend, Michael

I cannot imagine life without Michael. He is our source of joy at the Soup Kitchen. When he arrives with his mom for our second shift, he always seeks me out with a "Hi, Deacon!" followed by a welcome hug -- the very best medicine to relieve my occasional grumpiness.

Everyone at the Soup Kitchen, volunteers and guests, love Michael. How could we do otherwise? His ever-present smile, his cheerfulness, and his willingness to do anything asked of him has turned Thursday mornings into a special time for all of us.

I have come to realize that Michael's greatest gift is his ability to teach the rest of us. One morning, shortly after he and Judie joined our Thursday team, I asked Michael if he were having a good day. Of course he replied with an enthusiastic, "Yes!" And then Judie laughed and added, "For Michael, every day is a good day. He never has a bad one." Indeed, Michael views the world as a blessing and teaches us to strive to do the same.

I have always believed that the cultural war we are waging for life will not be won through political action. We may win the occasional skirmish in legislatures and courts, but because it is a spiritual war, ultimately it will be won only through the action of the Holy Spirit, "the Lord and giver of life." We must, therefore, pray constantly that God will enter and change the hearts of those who have embraced the culture of death.

Perhaps people like Frank Stephens, a man with Down Syndrome, can help the Spirit change those hearts. Take just a few minutes to watch the following video of his testimony before Congress:

And then there's Charlotte "Charlie" Fien, a 21-year-old British woman with Down Syndrome and autism, who recently delivered an impassioned plea to a United Nations group. A U.N. "expert" had just argued for the prenatal eradication of disabled children. The following video is Charlotte's moving response:

Thank you Frank; thank you, Charlotte; and thank you, Michael for showing us the way to the Way, the Truth and the Life.

Pray for life!

Wildwood Soup Kitchen Video

Our parish -- St. Vincent de Paul Parish in Wildwood, Florida -- is in the process of preparing a number of videos addressing the many ministries sponsored by the parish. Among the first of these videos is one describing the Wildwood Soup Kitchen, an ecumenical ministry that Diane and I have been actively involved in for over 13 years. We just completed this video, which I was recruited to narrate, so I thought I'd include it here on my blog.

The Wildwood Soup Kitchen is a wonderful ministry and Diane and I are the Thursday Cook and Captain respectively.  The Soup Kitchen serves meals six days a week, although a different team of volunteers prepares and serves or delivers these tasty, nutritious meals each day. It's quite an operation run by several hundred volunteers. For example, today we served and delivered well over 300 meals.

If, after watching the video, you get the urge to make a contribution, visit the Soup Kitchen's website. It's important to realize that we accept no government funds (Government agencies at every level try to exert too much control over the operation once you accept their money.) which means we are funded completely by private donations. And no one at the Soup Kitchen receives a salary or any compensation of any kind...other than an occasional donut. We are all volunteers.

Here's a link to the Wildwood Soup Kitchen's donation page:  http://www.wildwoodsoupkitchen.org/page/donations

I've embedded the video below, although I'm not sure how long it will be online...


SOUP KITCHEN MAY 18 2017 mpeg 4 from robert carberry on Vimeo.

20 Years of Diaconal Ministry

Three weeks from today (May 24) I will celebrate the 20th anniversary of my ordination to the permanent diaconate. It seems like yesterday, so I'm having a little trouble coming to grips with the fact that it's been 20 years since that special day.

Ordination - Fall River Diocese - Bishop Sean O'Malley

As this anniversary approaches I have been drawn to reflect on both my life and my ministry during those two decades. Although much has certainly happened in my life and the life of my family, I find myself wondering whether my ministry has borne very much fruit. This is probably a natural reaction, and I should just turn it all over the God and trust that, through His grace, I have done more good than harm.

I suppose the years my brother deacons and I spent in formation were reasonably effective in preparing us for our ministry. But even so, the subsequent 20 years were filled with so much that was unanticipated and unexpected.

Hospital chaplaincy, for example, was one of those ministries I intentionally resisted. Except when absolutely necessary, I had avoided hospitals. I didn't like being around sickness and, to borrow a phrase from a younger generation, "Hospitals creep me out!" And then, about five years ago, Dear Diane volunteered the two of us as hospital chaplains at The Villages Regional Hospital. Now I find myself looking forward to our assigned days, largely because I learn so much from those whom I visit. I trust I have been able to offer them some comfort, but I know they've been a constant source of joy to me.

As Diane and I visit these wonderful patients, going from one hospital room to another, I can't help but recall St. Paul's words on how God, to demonstrate His power, calls us to our weakness:

[The Lord said to me,] "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong [2 Cor 12:9-10].

My experience in other ministries has been similar. Before arriving at my present parish, my knowledge of things liturgical was pretty much limited to those rites in which I was directly involved as a deacon. I'm certainly no liturgist. But then, to my surprise, my pastor made me the nominal head of our liturgy committee. Today most parishioners believe (wrongly) that I am personally responsible for everything liturgical that occurs in the parish. And their varying views of what constitutes proper liturgy can result in some interesting feedback. I strive, however, to do all for God's greater glory and trust that our liturgies will please Him and strengthen the faith of His people. I try to learn from my mistakes and, once again, in weakness we are called, and I hope I will continue to be a willing servant.

My previous parish on Cape Cod was blessed with many young families and so Baptisms were frequent. What a joy it is to bring a beautiful new life into God's Church through this sacrament. Yes, infant baptisms are always joyous occasions, so different from funerals. In those days I was occasionally called on to conduct an evening vigil service for a parishioner who had died, but because I was still working full-time, I rarely assisted at funerals. But now, ministering in a parish that serves thousands of retirees, baptisms are rare and the various funeral rites have become a major diaconal ministry. This, too, was unexpected.

As a veteran and retired naval officer, I am often called on to conduct committal services at the National Cemetery just down the road in Bushnell, Florida. It is a distinct honor to complete the funeral rites for our veterans who have given so much of their lives for others.

Since Diane and I "retired" to Florida 13 years ago, the one ministry that has been a constant in our lives is the Wildwood Soup Kitchen; and, again, it was Diane who brought it about and "volunteered" me. Along with a few hundred other volunteers representing over 30 local churches, we serve God's people when they come to us hungry and in need of His love. Diane is the Thursday cook and I'm the Thursday captain (an ambiguous title that means I do whatever the cook tells me). This past Thursday we prepared and served or delivered 393 meals so the need is great. This is another of those ministries that took me by surprise and has resulted in much joy.

We deacons, of course, are at the lowest level (the order of the diaconate) of the three Holy Orders. Above us are our priests (the order of the presbyterate) and our bishops (the order of the episcopate). And this is very good indeed. Because of my many years as a naval officer, I am quite used to following orders and am happy to do whatever is asked of me. I suppose I was pre-formed to be a deacon.

Most pastors -- sadly, not all -- like having us around because we willingly relieve them of much time-consuming parish work, freeing them to carry out the important pastoral work expected of them. Being a lowly deacon -- a servant -- then is a reward in itself. But we must be careful not to revel in our lowliness, for pride can infect even the most lowly among us.

And this leads me to perhaps the most surprising aspect of my ministry as deacon. Before I was ordained I can't recall any parishioner ever asking me for advice on things spiritual. It just never happened. After all, I was simply another parishioner. What could I know? (The honest answer, of course, was, "Not much.")

But once I was ordained things changed. I had been a deacon for less than 24 hours when a parishioner approached me and wanted some advice on how best to encourage his wife of 30 years to convert to Catholicism. As I recall, she was an Episcopalian who attended Mass with him every Sunday. My first thought was, what do I know about Episcopalian to Catholic conversion? The answer, of course, was little or nothing. And so I asked him, "Why are you asking me for advice?" He looked surprised and replied, "Because you're a deacon." I then asked, "I've known you for years. Why didn't you ask me before?" His reply? "You weren't a deacon then."

I suppose this man might well have had a better grasp of the effects of ordination than I. After all, as the Catechism affirms when discussing the ordination of deacons:

"The sacrament of Holy Orders marks them with an imprint ("character") which cannot be removed and which configures them to Christ, who made himself the 'deacon' or servant of all" [CCC 1570].

The parishioner seemed to understand that with ordination comes a configuring to Christ (however imperfect) and that the Holy Spirit would be there to assist me as I struggled to respond to his need.

During my years as a naval officer and later as a consultant and teacher, I was often called on to advise people on a variety of issues, some personal and some professional. As a deacon, however, I must be especially careful since the advice given often relates to a person's journey to salvation. It is not something to be taken lightly.

Let me conclude this post with a few thoughts on giving advice -- things I've learned, often the hard way, over the years.

First of all, giving advice can sometimes be dangerous. If the advice turns out to be wrong, or if it is misinterpreted, the advisee will often turn on the advisor, blaming him for any undesirable outcome. Of course, this is inherently unfair since advice is just that: merely advice. It is offered, not commanded. And the advisee must still decide whether to accept or reject it. He cannot abdicate his responsibility for actions taken, regardless of the advice he has received. Of course, the advisor has a responsibility to give his best advice.

The best advice for advisors?

Know your subject, and know it well. Don't give advice on subjects about which you lack expertise.

Know the other person and their level of knowledge. The only way to do this is to ask questions, and continue to do so until you are comfortable with the answers. (It's hard to be quiet when you're an expert.)

The perceived quality of advice is usually based on a combination of the recognized knowledge and experience -- the expertise -- of the advisor. An effective advisor not only knows his own limitations, but also understands the capabilities and temperament of the one he advises. Advice that cannot or will not be followed is no advice at all.

When the advice relates to human activity, other factors, many of them unknown or unanticipated, can influence the outcome. All other things being equal, the more specific the activity, the more predictable the outcome, and the more likely the advice will be sound.

For example, Dear Diane once advised me on the best way to make a hard-boiled egg, a snack I particularly enjoy. The task is specific, with relatively simple steps, and if I follow her advice closely, the desired outcome is always achieved, and I, the advisee, am content.

But if, for some inexplicable reason, I were called on to plan and prepare a complete, multi-course dinner for eight guests, and do so personally without Dear Diane's active supervision, no amount of specific advice would prevent a disastrous outcome. The main task is well beyond my current capabilities and the specificity needed would overwhelm me. In this instance, the best advice would be to call a caterer.

Advisors also get into trouble when dealing with generalities. We can think and speak in generalities but you and I don't do general things. All of our actions are specific. And to make the transition from the general to the specific is never easy.

Some years ago a young man came to me for some spiritual advice. I was not a spiritual director, merely a deacon, but something in my homily that morning got his attention, and so after Mass he approached me in the sacristy. I was in a bit of a hurry, so when he told me he felt "spiritually empty," I asked him about his prayer life. He responded that he had none. My advice? I tossed him a few spiritual platitudes and ended with, "You have to deepen your prayer life and develop a personal relationship with the Lord."

Was this good advice? Well, I suppose so, in a general sort of way. But then, fortunately, I noticed the look of complete confusion on his face and realized he didn't know what I was talking about. A few minutes of dialogue convinced me he didn't know how to pray. I also learned that he hadn't been in a church since his Confirmation almost 15 years earlier.

The Holy Spirit had drawn that young man to Mass that morning and in my haste I had almost sent him away empty. Indeed, he would have left in worse shape spiritually since my initial advice was, to him, incomprehensible. Eventually we met several times to discuss prayer and spirituality, and I'm happy to say that he is now an active parishioner.

I'm also happy to say that I leave most spiritual direction to those better trained than I to perform this challenging work. But answering others' questions on their faith, advising them on specific issues, helping them understand God's enduring love for them -- all this and more have been a wonderfully surprising part of my diaconal ministry for the past 20 years. I don't know how long our loving God will allow Diane and me to minister to His people, but any time is a blessing for which we thank Him daily.

Thanksgiving a Few Days Later

As we have for the past dozen years, Dear Diane and I spent our Thanksgiving at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen (that's Wildwood, Florida). It's not because we're such good and charitable people; it's simply one of those things that happens because Thanksgiving always falls on a Thursday. Diane, you see, is the Thursday cook at the soup kitchen and I'm her #1 flunky, so we always have the joy of serving our many wonderful guests on Thanksgiving Day.

Once again we gave our usual team of Thursday volunteers the day off to celebrate with their families, while we recruited a large group of one-day volunteers to help us cook up a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. We prepared and served (or delivered) a total of 284 meals...and what a meal it was! We try to make it special by serving the meal restaurant-style, with servers who seat our guests, take their orders, and offer drinks, desserts and other frills. I've included the menu below.

We also got a little ink from the local newspaper, The Villages Daily Sun, thanks to a lovely, young reporter who interviewed both guests and volunteers and took a few photos during our Thanksgiving dinner. This link will take you to an abbreviated version of the article: Villages Daily Sun. The paper's website doesn't contain  many complete articles, but only offers brief teasers designed to get you to read the paper itself. 

We had a wonderful time and afterwards enjoyed our own Thanksgiving dinner at the home of some good friends. But my age is beginning to take a mild toll, and I needed a little more than a day to recover. I thank God that I'm retired and can rest when needed.

I trust you all had a happy and blessed Thanksgiving and are now looking forward to Christmas. Yesterday, the first day of Advent, Diane and I we put up the Christmas decorations inside and outside, and are now happily awaiting the Lord's coming. "Come, Lord Jesus!" [Rev 22:20]

The Weather According to Matthew

The ubiquitous media has truly altered the way we observe and experience weather events. A week or so ago we began to hear about Hurricane Matthew as it formed, strengthened, and moved slowly through the central Caribbean, eventually becoming a dreaded Category 5 storm. Once its movement indicated a potential threat to Florida and the U.S. East Coast, the "weather establishment" shifted into high gear.

As it traveled north the storm caused catastrophic damage to poor Haiti, but this seemed a secondary concern. Yes, we're told that several hundred Haitians lost their lives and thousands more lost their homes and their few possessions, but isn't this to be expected? After all, it's Haiti! They're real poor down there, and backward, and live in shacks; they have poor construction codes, and probably don't even have a national weather service. Anyway, Channel Whatever Eyewitness News doesn't have a news crew down there; and if it's not on TV it mustn't be all that important. After Haiti Matthew scraped the eastern edge of Cuba and then rolled through the Bahamas, but we heard little about its effects in these places. All eyes were focused on Florida.

Hurricane Matthew Approaches Florida

Reporter in the Storm

The media frenzy really peaked yesterday, and hasn't ebbed a bit. At some point every local TV station in Orlando (the ones we are blessed to receive on our cable system) preempted their usual programming and offered round-the-clock hurricane coverage. One station even replaced Thursday Night Football with several meteorologists sharing their thoughts about millibars, storm surge, eye walls, forecast models, digital radar, and other wondrous things. Every station pre-positioned reporters and camera crews wherever they expect disaster to strike. This, of course, led to an interesting contradiction. As some poor, 100-pound, young woman reporter is battered on camera by hurricane force winds and driving horizontal rain, the studio anchors tell their audience not to be foolish by leaving their homes during the storm. Go figure!

As is often the case, the TV meteorologists focus on their worst-case scenarios and discuss other possibilities only in passing. This creates a sense of impending doom, that this storm will be like no other. I suppose such warnings are useful since they probably convince some reluctant people to evacuate threatened areas, but they also cause others to believe the danger was grossly overstated. 

The 24-hour coverage generates another problem: constant repetition. There's only so much to say about a storm. And now -- thanks to the internet, hurricane apps on our smartphones, Facebook, Twitter, instant messaging, and push notifications -- information pours into our homes unceasingly. No doubt this flow of information has saved many lives, lives that would have been lost in the days when hurricanes appeared with far less warning. But an inundation of data and opinion can also confuse and lead folks to turn it all off.

Matthew's Coming!!

The media also provide a venue for our politicians to communicate their advice, concerns, and demands. Indeed, every few hours the governor, surrounded by his emergency management team, a collection of very serious-looking people, appears on screen and gives us an update. The governor and his team have apparently spent our tax dollars well and done an excellent job preparing for Matthew's arrival. Governor Scott, I am told, is a very nice man, but his reports seem so very gloomy. I suppose that's to be expected since he likely feels responsible for the safety of the people of Florida and hopes they will take the storm seriously. Even though the storm has obviously weakened -- it's now a Category 3 storm -- and has drifted slightly seaward, the warnings remain severe. At the same time, however, the meteorologists are almost apologetic because Matthew hasn't fully lived up to their expectations. They truly enjoy storms. It's all very interesting.

Governor Scott Updates the State

Here in The Villages we are on Matthew's western fringe and have experienced only periodic rain and wind -- nothing very substantial. But in anticipation of the storm, most local government offices and many businesses have closed. We even closed the Wildwood Soup Kitchen today. Yesterday Diane and I and our wonderful team of volunteers prepared a tasty meal for our guests, and then prepared an additional double brown-bag meal so no one would go without food today. We all went home tired but satisfied that the hungry would be fed.

As Matthew heads north we pray that it drifts farther out to sea and spares the coasts of Georgia and South Carolina. We also look forward to a little less weather and far less weather news.

Storm, Soup Kitchen, Funerals and more

It's been a remarkable week, one that has surprised us with the unexpected and taught us much and  blessed us through everyday experiences.

The most unexpected event was the storm that someone named Hermine. It's a rather odd name, isn't it? Do you actually know anyone named Hermine? I certainly don't. I'm not sure how they decide on these stormy names, but in recent years they have definitely changed, become far more exotic. Most people don't realize that earlier -- much earlier -- major storms were named after saints, most often the saint on whose feast day the storm first appeared. And then, for many years, storms went unnamed. For example, I was born in the midst of a storm that was called simply, "The Great Hurricane of September 1944." It wasn't until the early 1950s that the National Weather Service began to assign female names to hurricanes and major tropical storms. I remember well some of the storms that roared up the East Coast when I was much younger -- for example, Carol, Edna, Diane, and Donna -- all given rather common female names. It wasn't until the late 1970s that nascent political correctness led to the assignment of both male and female names to major storms. This change actually surprised me. I would have thought that the more radical feminists would approve of these impressive, mighty storms being given feminine names as a kind of metaphor reflecting the power of women. But no, political correctness trumps all and male storminess must be recognized as equal to that of women. But I digress...

Hermine made its appearance in the Gulf of Mexico early last week as the cleverly named Tropical Depression #9. It wallowed about in the gulf for several days before it began to display some organization and direction. By Tuesday the weather-guessers called for it to strengthen into a tropical storm and ultimately a hurricane, predicting landfall on Florida's west coast sometime early Thursday.

This forecast was particularly disturbing because Diane and I are the Thursday cook and captain at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen, and Wildwood, Florida was on the storm's predicted path. On Wednesday morning we finally decided to close the soup kitchen for Thursday, not wanting to subject our drivers who deliver meals or our walk-in guests to the dangers of a major storm. As it turned out, Hermine changed both course and speed, drifted to the north and west, and finally made landfall early Friday just south of Tallahassee. We were, therefore, spared its most damaging effects. We experienced gusty wind and heavy rain but nothing too exciting. Hermine has since moved up the East Coast and once again is wallowing about, this time in the Atlantic. And so we are able to share this storm with three of our children, who live in coastal New England.

In the midst of all this storminess, I have been asked to conduct two funerals, one vigil service, and one committal service, all in the space of four days. The committal will be at the National Cemetery in Bushnell, Florida. As you might expect, because of our large retired-age population in central Florida, funerals, vigils and committals are common, much more common than baptisms and marriages.

Most funerals are celebrated in the church during Mass, but sometimes, for any number of reasons, a family wants a funeral outside of Mass in a funeral home. Because no Mass is celebrated we deacons are usually called on to conduct these funerals. I have always considered them among the most important liturgies I am privileged to conduct. For most people this is a time of real need, a time when confusion, emptiness, and doubt overwhelm the mind and heart. It is a time calling for the affirmation of faith, a time for the proclamation of God's Good News in the midst of man's bad news. But most importantly, it is a time to listen. And in the listening I have found these difficult times to be wonderful opportunities for evangelization. It's not unusual to encounter family members who have drifted away from the Church and are simply awaiting a call to return.

Anyhow, because of all this, I spend a considerable amount of time preparing for funerals and vigils and committals. I always try to meet with the family in advance, not only to learn about the deceased as a person, but also to get a sense of the relationships within the family. Out of this, the family's  spiritual needs become more evident, important considerations when selecting the Scripture readings and preparing my homily.

I conducted two of these services -- a funeral and a vigil service -- yesterday, while the other two are scheduled for early next week. I am truly humbled by the remarkable faith I encountered yesterday among the family and friends of the man and woman who had died. Even in their grief, they were aware of God's presence and His enduring love. How often this happens! How often do I come to realize the true holiness of God's people, a holiness that often far exceeds that of the clergy, of priests and deacons.

Just as I finished writing the last sentence we suffered a lightning strike. It was the closest and loudest strike I've ever experienced. The flash was right outside our master bedroom window, and the crash of thunder, being so close, was instantaneous and deafening. The circuit breaker for the bedroom electricity flipped off, the smoke detectors all sounded, and Maddie, the wonder-dog, was greatly displeased. Our neighbor just called on her cellphone and said their telephones are out and their PC was fried. We apparently are in better shape. Telephones and computers all seem to be working. I checked the attic for signs of fire, reset the circuit breaker, and gave the house a blessing. 

All seems well. God is good.

Lightnings and clouds, bless the Lord;

praise and exalt him above all forever.

[Dan 3:73]

God's peace