Homily: 3rd Sunday of Lent - Year C

Readings:  Ex 3:1-8a, 13-15; Ps 103; 1 Cor 10:1-6, 10-12; Lk 13:1-9

A priest friend once told me that sometimes, after he’s heard confessions for several hours at a time, he doesn’t just get tired, he gets bored. “There’s nothing more boring,” he said, “than hearing the same sins over and over again, hour after hour.” And then he added, “Fortunately, God doesn’t get bored with them. He enjoys forgiving.”

Hearing that made me recall those words at the end of the book of Micah:

“Who is a God like you, who removes guilt and pardons sin for the remnant of his inheritance; Who does not persist in anger forever, but instead delights in mercy…” [Mic 7:18]

Yes, God delights in mercy and forgiveness. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? And Jesus made sure we knew this when He told the apostles He didn’t come for the righteous, but for sinners. Well, if He came for sinners He must love to forgive. You see, God knows us far better than we know ourselves. He knows we all have our particular sins. He understands our weaknesses.

Because we’re naturally disappointed in ourselves, we’re tempted to think: Hey, that’s really not so bad. It’s a part of me; it’s just the way I am. I’ve even heard some people make the excuse that this is the way God made them. How can He expect anything better? Blaming our sinfulness on God! That’s even worse than saying, “The devil made me do it.”

This, of course, just weakens our sense of guilt and our fervor for repentance and change. It leads us to make false compromises with our weaknesses. It causes us to choose mediocrity over the striving for perfection God desires for us.

We can grow through our faults, but only if we don’t settle for them, but instead learn to live always on God’s forgiveness. Forgiving’s no big thing for God. On the contrary, He delights in it, because forgiveness is the completion of love. Have you ever thought about that? In forgiveness, love reaches its greatest purity, its greatest depth.  In forgiveness, love is at its strongest. In forgiveness, love, especially God’s love, generates new life. God delights in us, in each one of us. He rejoices over us and, unlike us, he shows His love without inhibition.

Of course, if we see God as a kind of Almighty Umpire, we won’t be focused on his forgiveness, but rather on His punishment. Maybe that’s why we cringe when we hear Jesus tell the parable of the fig tree, especially when we hear those words “It has born no fruit, cut it down” [Lk 13:7].  That doesn’t sound very good. And so we try to convince ourselves that a loving God wouldn’t deal with us so severely.

And it’s about this time that the guilt starts to creep in, especially now, in this season of Lent, this time for repentance. But guilt is just a warning and should never lead us to despair. Yes, God will judge us, but He’s also a God of forgiveness. This was something Jesus’ disciples still had to learn. In a sense, although they’d never played baseball, they too saw God as the Almighty Umpire. For when evil happened to someone, they just assumed that God was punishing that person. This was simply a reflection of what they’d been taught. If someone lives a good life, good things happen to him. But if he leads a bad life, well, God will get him.

It’s amazing how many people, even many Christians, still think this way. A few days ago, a parishioner asked me how God could reward a certain wealthy celebrity with so much money when he lived such an immoral life. I simply suggested that God’s attitude toward money and possessions is evident by the fact that it’s spread around pretty randomly among both the faithful and the faithless. He really doesn’t care about it, and perhaps we’d be a lot better off if we did the same.

By adjusting our image of God to His reality, we can better understand how He wants us to live. This is exactly what Jesus does in our Gospel passage. He has to set the disciples straight.

In the parable of the fig tree, Jesus readjusts the disciples’ image of God and, if we listen carefully, He can help us do the same. The emphasis in the parable is not on the vineyard owner’s order to cut down fig tree. No, Jesus highlights the three years of patience that preceded this decision. The real emphasis is on the plea of the vinedresser: “Sir, leave it another year” [Lk 13:8].

Another year…one more year of hoeing and fertilizing, one more year of gentle care, one more chance. Patience extended beyond reason. And that’s the key to this parable: that Jesus, Our Lord, is the patient vinedresser. He’s the worker who trusts our souls will blossom over time. He’s the patient God who trusts in us even when we lose confidence in ourselves.

Yes, God is patient. What appears to the world as dried up and useless, He views differently. To Him we’re always on the brink of producing fruit or brilliant blossoms. But you and I…well, if we’re honest, we’re probably more like the hardnosed vineyard owner. It doesn’t take much for us to write off others when they don’t seem to measure up to our self-defined Christian expectations.

The simple truth is that we still carry a childhood notion of God wielding a chain saw. But that’s not the Father Jesus describes; and so we’re called to thank God for His patience, to thank God for a life measured by all those Lents where we ended up no better than when we started.

God doesn’t dwell on the past, brothers and sisters. He looks only at this Lent, calling us to a deeper relationship with Him. Jesus speaks to us as the vineyard dresser speaks to the vineyard owner. God is patient with us because He has a plan for each of us and the hope that we will accept His gift of grace so we can fulfill that plan. The question is: can we be patient with ourselves?

When we feel dry and lifeless, when our lives seems to be spinning out of control, when our relationships are marked by bitterness and strife, when the death of a loved one drives home the fragility of life, when our children seem to be slipping away from us and from God…When all these things generate unanswered questions in our lives, that’s when we need to trust in our God, our God who is patient and forgiving. 

Equally important, because St. Paul tells us to “Be imitators of God” [Eph 5:1], we need to be patient with each other. We need to treat each other with the same tenderness we see in Jesus…even when the wait takes every shred of patience, even when we’re ready to rev up the chainsaw. Because God is patient with us, because He trusts us to do as He commanded, we too must be patient and trusting with ourselves and with others.

And so, I suppose Lent challenges each of us to ask ourselves, “What’s my image of God?” Is He a cosmic umpire, or is He a patient loving Father? Our answer makes a huge difference.

Eight Unconnected Thoughts

Diane and me at GU (Statue: Bishop John Carroll)

Hoya Hypocrisy. Georgetown University, the oldest Catholic university in the United States, has invited Cecile Richards, the president of Planned Parenthood, to speak as a part of the university's Lecture Fund. Not only does Ms. Richards run the largest abortion provider in the nation, she also recently bragged about aborting her fourth child because three children were enough. In response to criticism, the Jesuit-run university claimed that Georgetown “deeply values our faith tradition that encourages the free exchange of ideas." I'm embarrassed to admit that before I entered the Naval Academy back in the early 60s, I attended Georgetown for a year. It was a very different institution back then. And I suspect GU's founder, Bishop John Carroll (1735-1815), would not be pleased with the changes.

Tough Guy. Some months ago Donald Trump publicly denigrated John McCain, a highly decorated Navy pilot and POW, as a bogus war hero because he was shot down, captured, and tortured by the North Vietnamese. This from a man who spent the Vietnam War dodging the draft. He talks real tough -- "I'll bomb the s--- out of ISIS" -- but doesn't have a clue about what that really means to those who must do the bombing. I expect the young Trump was motivated by the same thing that motivated most of the draft-dodgers I met during the Vietnam era. After a few beers they would let down their guard, drop the political excuses, and admit they just didn't like the idea of getting shot at. News flash: Who does? But when you do everything you can to avoid serving...well, we used to call that cowardice.

Just Wages. In his general audience Pope Francis stated that the Church doesn't want donations from the affluent if they exploit or underpay their workers. And while I completely agree with the Pope, I think he should direct some of his attention internally. Every survey I've seen indicates that the Catholic Church pays its lay employees somewhere between 15-30 percent less than those in equivalent jobs in Protestant churches and even less than those doing similar work in the private sector. In many instances the Church does not pay what could reasonably be considered a just or living wage, and retirement benefits are often non-existent or minuscule. Perhaps we should clean our own house first as an example to others. Too many Catholics simply do not support the Church and its mission, and too many bishops seem afraid to demand that they do so. Here's an article on the subject: Just Wage. 

Historical Myths. I've been a part-time student of the history of Islam for years and have always been puzzled by those historians who claim that Islamic Spain was a multicultural paradise in which Christians and Jews were treated with respect and dignity by their Muslim rulers. This is especially puzzling since virtually all of the contemporary evidence contradicts this belief. If you would like to learn the truth about Islamic Spain, you can find it in this wonderful, well-documented history by Darío Fernández-Morera, The Myth of the Andalusian Paradise. It's a page-turner. Read it. 

The Beheading of St. Eulogius of Cordoba in Muslim Spain

Catholic England. Another book of revisionist history has been around awhile. First published in 1992 and republished in a second edition in 2005, The Stripping of the Altars, by Cambridge professor Eamon Duffy, tells the story of the late medieval Catholic Church in England. It covers the period immediately before and during the early years of the Reformation, from 1400 to 1580. I've been meaning to read the book for years but just never got around to it. And then the other day I spotted a copy on our parish's free book shelf and grabbed it. It's a lengthy tome (over 600 pages of fairly small print) but filled with remarkable insights. 

Pistol-packin' Deacon. A few days ago my son, a former Marine, and I stopped by a local gun shop here in Florida where I picked up the forms needed to apply for a Florida concealed carry permit. When I mentioned this to one of my brother deacons he was apoplectic: "You're an ordained deacon, how can you carry a weapon?  It's not something Christians do." When I asked if Christians had a right to defend themselves and their families, he seemed to think it was alright but not if they used guns. I refrained from asking if I could use an ax. When I mentioned that as a Christian I always carried a sidearm when I flew as a Navy pilot, he mumbled something about wartime being different . As they say in New York, "Go figure!" Actually I just enjoy shooting and a permit will let me carry a pistol or revolver to a range without a lot of hassle.

God Exists. I keep encountering new, at least to me, revelations of God's presence in His creation. One day last week, in the late afternoon, while Maddie (our dog) and I were strolling through the neighborhood, I noticed the flicker of a fast-moving shadow on the nearby grass. Looking up I encountered a  marvelous sight: 42 white pelicans (I counted them) flying in two equally balanced V formations. The setting sun cast an amber glow that turned their wings to gold. They were perhaps 200 feet overhead and, despite their numbers, flew by us in complete silence. It was another of those beautiful, unrepeatable experiences that force you to accept the truth: the world is no accident. "And God saw that it was good."

Critical Vote. While the November elections in the United States could well determine the direction our nation will take for years to come, they are not the only 2016 elections with long-term worldwide ramifications. On June 23 the British people will vote in a referendum on Britain"s continued membership in the European Union (EU). Cleverly called "Brexit" (British Exit), the referendum has been scheduled as early as possible by Tory Prime Minister Cameron in the hope that the EU's growing troubles won't escalate much before June. Interestingly, although Cameron strongly favors continued  EU membership, many in his cabinet and as many as 150 Conservative MPs favor Brexit. Daniel Hannan, an elected Member of the European Parliament, explains here why Britain should vote to leave the EU and put him out of a job.

Gone to the Dogs

My life has changed drastically since we  adopted our dog, Maddie. I now join her on two-mile walks twice daily, once in the early morning and again in the afternoon. My days, once relatively free and and far less predictable, have now become as regulated as the German rail system. Contributing to this change, Dear Diane gave me a FitBit for Christmas. This clever little wristwatch-like device provides me with a wealth of health-related facts. I now know how many steps I take daily (always between 11,000 and 16,000), my heart rate, the miles I've walked, and all sorts of other data. I'm told the American Heart Association recommends walking at least 10,000 steps daily. After two months with this device I suspect the American Association of Funeral Directors recommends a minimum of 11,000.

Maddie - 5 am Wake-up

In truth these walks with Maddie have been a delight, even though the morning edition sometimes starts long before dawn. On Thursday mornings, for example, Diane and I must be at the soup kitchen by 6:30 so I set the alarm for 5:00. This gives Maddie and me enough time for our 45-minute walk in the early morning darkness. Maddie dislikes being taken from her bed so early, but adjusts well after a few full-body stretches and gaping yawns. Within a few minutes she's at the door, ready to go. She and I leave the house promptly at 5:10 and wander through our neighborhood enjoying the pre-dawn silence.

For Maddie a walk in the dark is really no different from a walk in the noonday sun. She's just happy to be out in the world where she can enjoy its variety of smells and sounds. Unlike most people, the average dog is easy to please. If a dog enjoys something, it never tires of it. Indeed, dogs seem to thrive in a well-regulated, habit-driven environment.

Maddie is a rescued Bichon Frise, already six years old when she entered our home. Her life during those first six years is a complete mystery to Dear Diane and me, so we cut her a lot of slack and just enjoy her uniqueness. And, believe me, she arrived with her own personalized bundle of neuroses. For example, she dislikes riding in the car, but loves to ride in the golf cart. Of course, she's usually restrained in the backseat of the car, but sits next to me or on my lap in the golf cart. Her aversion to the car might also have something to do with the 7,000 mile, cross-country road trip we took just two weeks after she joined our little family. 

Ready to Walk

We, of course, break all the rules of dog ownership. She sleeps with us on our king-size bed, and for someone who weighs only 15 pounds, seems to take up a lot of room. She also demands long stretches of belly-rubbing each morning before rising. Of course, Diane obliges.

Maddie's also rather un-doglike in her eating habits. We feed her twice daily, after her morning and late afternoon walks, but she'll often leave a bowlful of food uneaten for hours. On Thursday, for example, we filled her bowl at 6 a.m. and it hadn't been touched when we returned from the soup kitchen at 1 p.m. I've never known a dog to do that. All our previous dogs treated each meal as if it were their last. And yet, once Maddie realized we were home for the day, she went into the kitchen and emptied her bowl. It would seem she associates eating with our presence, although oddly she will not eat if either of us are in the same room. It's all quite perplexing, but there's more.

Maddie likes most humans and really doesn't discriminate. If  she spots a dog-less person walking toward us she will often sit down and wait. When the person finally arrives she excitedly offers licks and hugs. She's this way with everyone...except one man, who lives a few blocks away. Whenever Maddie sees him she utters one of those low growls, and if he approaches she barks at him. It's all very strange since she acts this way with no one else. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

When it comes to dogs, however, she's far more circumspect. On our walks, she'll approach other dogs but always gingerly. If the other is friendly, she responds accordingly; but if she senses hostility -- and there are many little, ankle-biting Yorkies here in The Villages -- she simply backs off and avoids the offensive creature. I've seen her bark and growl at another dog only once, and he was particularly nasty old dog. Interestingly, she seems to have developed a crush on a little neighborhood Westie named Odie. It was love at first sight and has continued. If their paths cross she rushes toward him excitedly, and if we pass by his home she stares hopefully at the front door. 

Maddie has no street smarts whatsoever. Before crossing the street she doesn't check for cars, but just goes. Our other dogs seemed to realize that moving cars are large, fast, and potentially deadly objects, things to avoid. Fortunately, I still have the will to live and always restrain her on a leash. So far neither of us have been squished by a speeding SUV.

I offer these thoughts today for those considering bringing a dog into your home, especially those of you who, like Dear Diane and me, are retired. Owning a dog in retirement is far different from owning one with a houseful of children. Maddie has been a wonderful addition to our home, but a needy and demanding addition. And while your life with a dog will change drastically, I know Diane will agree that in our case the change has been a delightful one. Maddie, who sleeps at my feet as I type, is definitely a keeper. I trust she feels the same about us.

Reflection: Friday Stations of the Cross

When I was a senior in high school our chemistry teacher, a priest, read the Sermon on the Mount every morning. He told us this was the only way he could ensure he’d at least try to do as Jesus asks. Don’t worry, I’m not going to read the entire Sermon on the Mount to you.

But among its opening words, in the beatitudes, Jesus makes a promise: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy” [Mt 5:7]

I think this might be a good verse for us to focus on today, as we begin our Lenten journey. It’s certainly one that Pope Francis has preached frequently during these opening weeks of the Year of Mercy. Indeed, mercy and forgiveness have been at the core of his teaching since he was elected pope.

Mercy and forgiveness. Mercy, of course, is all about forgiveness, but true mercy is a divine attribute, one that we can share only through God’s grace. That’s right; we need God’s help to be merciful because we’re surrounded by the unmerciful. We live in a world that rejects acts of mercy, that rejects forgiveness, a world that opts instead for self-interest, for revenge.

To be merciful, to be forgiving, is to be like Jesus.  Pope Francis reminds us of this in strong words when he says, “If you can’t forgive, you are not a Christian.” Strong words indeed: You cannot be Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ, if you cannot forgive as Jesus forgives.

St. John tells us that “God is love” [1 Jn 4:8] and it’s through His mercy and forgiveness that we experience His love most deeply.

Look at how Our Lord forgives in the Gospel. He doesn’t condemn. He doesn’t denounce. He doesn’t beat the penitent down with recriminations. No, Jesus simply forgives.

He began His ministry with the words, “Repent and believe in the gospel” [Mk 1:15], and as He completed it on the Cross He said, “Father, forgive them…” [Lk 23:34]

Jesus extends divine mercy to all who come to Him in repentance. And when Jesus forgives, the sinner is filled with joy, for he’s tasted God’s love up close and personal.

Let’s all look into our hearts today, into the dark corners where we’ve hidden all those whom we just can’t forgive. Let’s carry them out, bring them out into the light of God’s love. Let Jesus forgive them, and He will give you the grace to do the same.

God forgives and calls us to extend mercy and forgiveness to others…all others. This is what the power of the Cross is all about.

As we follow Jesus along the way of the Cross this afternoon, let’s ask God to set us free from the habit of sin, to give us the grace to be merciful, to fill our hearts with his love and truth. 

Homily: Baptism of Baby Matthew

Reading: Mk 1:9-11

We’ve all heard this Gospel passage many times. But why was Jesus Baptized? After all, He’s the Son of God. He’s sinless. Why should He be baptized? Scriptural scholars have debated this question for centuries, but I think there’s a simple answer.

Christ was baptized, not to be made holy by the water, but to make the water holy, to purify it at its source for the dispensing of baptismal grace to all Christians, to people of all ages.

And Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist because Jesus asked John to do it. Jesus, the Son of God and a man of faith, asked John to baptize him, and John in full obedience did as he was asked.

We baptize today in full obedience to Jesus’ command, and because a person or persons of faith ask us to do it. And so we do it.

Of course, little Matthew here didn’t tell me he wanted to be baptized, and were I to ask him I probably wouldn’t get much of an answer.

Matthew certainly hasn’t asked to be baptized. And I suppose it would be a stretch to call him a man of faith. But does he trust in God? Once again, no. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Matthew trusts only that Mommy and Daddy are there for him when he needs them, when he’s hungry or afraid or just wants to be loved.

If all this is true, why then are we baptizing Matthew, this wonderful little gift of God?

We’re baptizing him because his parents, Megan and Matt, are people of faith, and because they have asked us to. Can we then offer the saving Grace of Baptism to a baby (even a cute little guy like Matthew) just because his parents are people of faith and ask us to do it?

As usual, the answer comes to us again and again in the gospels where we encounter Jesus saving innocent children based upon the faith of a parent.

He raised a dead girl to life because Jairus, the girl’s father, asked Him to [Mk 5:21-24].

He freed a woman’s possessed daughter from the grasp of evil because the woman begged Him [Mt 15:21-28].

He raised the dead son of the widow in Nain out of simple compassion [Lk 711-17]. 

In each case a child was saved, a child lived through the saving power of God. These events remind us, too, of the centurion who approached Jesus and asked Him to heal his faithful servant with the words we repeat daily as Mass:

"O Lord I am not worthy to receive you under my roof, but only say the word and my servant will be healed" [Mt 8:8].

And how can we forget that scene when the disciples tried to keep the children away from Jesus:

"Then children were brought to him that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples rebuked them, but Jesus said, “Let the children come to me, and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” [Mt 19:13-14].

Yes, Jesus wants the children brought to Him, so they too can be blessed, so they too can experience salvation. 

In the same way your son, Matthew, will experience today the saving power of Jesus, through the work of the Holy Spirit. Today you will share Matthew with God the Father who will claim him as His adopted son.

It is your faith that allows all this to happen. And that same faith places a huge responsibility on you. For today you promise to bring Matthew up in the faith and teach him to trust in God, to grow in friendship with Jesus Christ.

And godparents, Angela and Chris, you are called to help Matthew’s parents in this ministry, for that’s what it is -- a ministry of the family, of the domestic church.

Given the name of our soon-to-be Christian, I think it’s especially fitting to conclude with the last words of Matthew’s Gospel. These are the final words of Jesus to His disciples before He ascended to the Father in heaven:

“Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.  And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age” [Mt 28:19-20].

And so we are called to baptize and to teach. Today we do the first of these for Matthew. But you must now begin to fulfill the second, to teach.

We know you trust in God. We know Matthew trusts in you. Live up to that dual trust by doing as God has commanded you.

Homily: Saturday, First Week of Lent

Readings: Dt 26:16-19; Ps 119; Mt 5:43-48

As a Navy pilot during the war in Vietnam, I flew search and rescue helicopters. We were stationed aboard ships in the Tonkin Gulf and most of our rescue work involved picking up fighter and attack pilots who had been shot down. Although we were armed with a .30 caliber machine gun mounted in the cabin door, and we all carried small arms, these light weapons really provided very little protection. Anyway, our goal was to avoid detection. We just wanted to get in, pick up any survivors, and get out as quickly as possible. On the few occasions that one of our helicopter crews actually fired their weapons, I don’t think they ever hit anybody. I suppose they made us feel safer though.

The enemy, of course, were the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong communists. As my POW friends will attest, they were not nice people. And as my many Marine friends discovered when they liberated the ancient city of Hue, the communists had tortured and murdered over 7,000 men, women, and children during their month-long occupation. Yes, they were an easy enemy to hate.

But hating them troubled me because I had read the Sermon on the Mount and knew what Jesus had commanded of us. And so one day I paid a visit to the Catholic chaplain and asked him how we could reconcile the command to love our enemies with this conflict in which we were engaged. I’ll always remember that conversation.

It was a long conversation. I won’t go into our lengthy discussion on the just war doctrine. That’s a subject for another time. But I will tell you what he had to say about enemies and hatred and love and forgiveness.

He began by saying that if our enemies are those we hate, we have ceased being Christians. As disciples of Jesus Christ we are to hate no one. But if our enemies are those who hate us, then we will always have enemies.

After all, Jesus had many enemies, simply because He loved everyone, especially those despised by the world, and He spoke the truth even when it upset people, and did the Father’s will. Yes, Jesus had enemies, but He hated no one.

Our enemies decide how they will treat us. We decide only to love them or to hate them. Love and hate, you see, are not emotions. They’re decisions. Jesus calls us to make the decision to love regardless of the evil others do. And He calls to exclude no one from our love.

These are hard words for us, aren’t they? Hard indeed… until we come face to face with the Cross, and we hear His words, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do” [Lk 23:34]. It’s there, on the Cross, that we encounter Divine Mercy: God’s perfect  love, a love that demands forgiveness.

Forgiveness is the only thing we can do to those we are called to love. If we refuse to forgive, we are refusing to love.

Do you remember the movie, “Dead Man Walking”? Well, one person you won’t see in the movie is Debbie Morris, the one victim who miraculously survived kidnapping, rape and torture -- a horrific ordeal at the hands of Robert Willie. He was executed based largely on her testimony. But after a long healing process, she said, “Justice didn’t do a thing to heal me. Forgiveness did.”

Yes, it’s easy to hate and scream for justice, for man’s justice, but it never brings healing. It never brings the closure the world promises. Only forgiveness can do that. Only forgiveness can heal.

The world will never run out of objects for our hatred, especially today when enemies abound. If we hope to become the people Moses spoke of in our first reading, “a people sacred to the LORD” [Dt 26:19], we must live up to God’s expectations for us, we who were created in His image and likeness.

And so He calls each of us to view this life as a pilgrimage of love, one in which we seek out others, finding Jesus Christ in each person we meet, and letting them recognize Jesus in us.

Let God be the one who will judge His creations.

We need only love.

Happy Birthday, Big Brother

Jeff (missing tooth) and Yours Truly, c. 1947

My big brother and only sibling, Jefferson Brian McCarthy, died in January 2010, a little over six years ago. He was born in Bridgeport, Connecticut on February 8, 1941, so today would have been Jeff's 75th birthday. A day doesn't go by when I don't think of him, and miss his presence in my life.

Growing up together, but separated by four years, we probably had the typical big brother-little brother relationship. We fought and wrestled and played together, and shared everything. And I could always count on Jeff to be the protective big brother when I needed reinforcements. Our personalities, though, were as different as day and night, and yet we seemed not to notice or be bothered by the differences. He was by far the smarter, always among the top students in his class, always willing to do the extra work needed to achieve the highest grades and win the prizes and awards. I, on the other hand, found that my interests didn't always coincide with the subjects taught in school, and would spend more time on that which aroused my curiosity. I did what was necessary to earn acceptable grades -- high enough to prevent parental interference -- but I was never a candidate for valedictorian. I suppose our mother understood us best. She once said, "Jeff's the smart one, who wants to please others; but Dana's the clever one who wants to please himself." I'm still not sure if that was a compliment or a criticism.

Our dad, John McCarthy, and Jeff at West Point on graduation day - June 1962

Dana (me), our Mom, and Jeff - Summer 1963 at home in Chatham on Cape Cod

Jeff went to West Point, graduating in 1962, and after a year at Georgetown University, I went to Annapolis, graduating in 1967. Because my grandfather and father both served in the Army, I suppose I was a bit of a black sheep who broke with tradition. But Jeff and I never saw it that way and were proud of each other's service. Our only serious disagreement came on the day of the Army-Navy game.

Jeff's sudden death from heart failure shortly before his 69th birthday came as a shock to me, especially since I'd always assumed he'd outlive me. I know that sounds strange since Jeff was almost four years older, but to me he'd always seemed healthier, at least until his last few years when his health began to deteriorate. Although his decline during those final years was evident, I didn't realize how ill he was. I suppose that's not uncommon: the failure to recognize and accept that one we love is near death. Based on some of our last conversations, I suspect Jeff knew he was approaching the end of his life. I just didn't realize it until later, when I played those conversations back in my mind. 

If I learned anything from Jeff's death it's that we should treasure every moment we have with those we love. Indeed, as Pope Francis is fond of reminding us, we should treasure every person we encounter, every child of God, and recognize the presence of Jesus Christ within them. That's a hard lesson to learn and put into practice.

Rest in peace, big brother, I'll see you again soon enough.

G. K. Chesterton on Islam

I thought my tiny but select group of readers might find these comments by the great G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936) of interest:

“…but out of the desert, from the dry places and the dreadful suns, come the cruel children of the lonely God; the real Unitarians who with scimitar in hand have laid waste the world. For it is not well for God to be alone.” -- from Chesterton's wonderful book, Orthodoxy, a book every human being should read. It was written 108 years ago, in 1908.

“There is in Islam a paradox which is perhaps a permanent menace. The great creed born in the desert creates a kind of ecstasy out of the very emptiness of its own land, and even, one may say, out of the emptiness of its own theology. It affirms, with no little sublimity, something that is not merely the singleness but rather the solitude of God. There is the same extreme simplification in the solitary figure of the Prophet; and yet this isolation perpetually reacts into its own opposite. A void is made in the heart of Islam which has to be filled up again and again by a mere repetition of the revolution that founded it. There are no sacraments; the only thing that can happen is a sort of apocalypse, as unique as the end of the world; so the apocalypse can only be repeated and the world end again and again. There are no priests; and yet this equality can only breed a multitude of lawless prophets almost as numerous as priests. The very dogma that there is only one Mahomet produces an endless procession of Mahomets. Of these the mightiest in modern times were the man whose name was Ahmed, and whose more famous title was the Mahdi; and his more ferocious successor Abdullahi, who was generally known as the Khalifa. These great fanatics, or great creators of fanaticism, succeeded in making a militarism almost as famous and formidable as that of the Turkish Empire on whose frontiers it hovered, and in spreading a reign of terror such as can seldom be organised except by civilisation…” -- from Chesterton's brief book, really a eulogy, on Lord Kitchener (1917).

“When people talk as if the Crusades were nothing more than an aggressive raid against Islam, they seem to forget in the strangest way that Islam itself was only an aggressive raid against the old and ordered civilization in these parts. I do not say it in mere hostility to the religion of Mahomet; I am fully conscious of many values and virtues in it; but certainly it was Islam that was the invasion and Christendom that was the thing invaded." -- from Chesterton's book, The New Jerusalem (1920)

The above comments make one wonder what Chesterton would have thought of Islam today, particularly those expressions of Islam that manifest themselves as ISIS, al-Qaeda, Hamas, Hezbollah, et al.

Homily: Monday, 4th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 2 Sm 15:13-14, 30; 16:5-13; Ps 3; Mk 5:1-20
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 “Legion is my name. There are many of us” [Mk 5:9].   

When I was much younger, I thought those words were among the most frightening in the Bible. There was just something very chilling about them. Part of it was the demon’s brazen declaration of who he and his gang were. Was that name, “Legion”, supposed to scare Jesus? Well it might have scared me, but it certainly didn’t scare Jesus. It was also the idea of that poor man possessed by so many demons. After all, a Roman Legion could have as many as 6,000 fighting men.

And yet, if you think about it, Satan is the father of lies and his minions follow suit. How many were there? We don’t know. And I suppose the last thing they resembled were the disciplined soldiers who made up a legion. To be disciplined is to obey and that’s one thing Satan doesn’t do.

Recall how Jesus commissioned the disciples:

“Go, therefore, make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you…” [Mt 28:19-20]

Yes, “…all that I have commanded you.” In other words, through obedience to His commands the Church will remain united. Jesus calls us to unity.

But Satan…his name in Greek – diabolos (διάβολος) – means the scatterer. He doesn’t unite; he scatters. He strives to destroy community, to create dissension. He tears apart all that is good. This is exactly what he did to the Gerasene community that Jesus and the apostles visited.

This was not a Jewish community. The Gerasenes were gentiles, pagans…and Jesus encountered three types of beings during His brief stay.

The first was the man who meets Jesus on His arrival. Living among the tombs, a kind of wild-man, he was being destroyed by the demons who possessed him. But he came to Jesus didn’t he? He saw Him from a distance, ran up to Him, and fell down before Him.

Was this the act of the man himself, and not the demons who possessed him? Did he exert what little free will he still had? Driven by the Spirit, did he run to Jesus, and throw himself to the ground in a silent act of worship? Is that what happened? I’d like to think so.

But that’s when Jesus encountered the second being, the demon who spoke for them all. He, too, recognized Jesus, the “Son of the Most High God” [Mk 5:7].

He also knows that his time is up. He came face to face with the power of God Himself. “…do not torment me” [Mk 5:7], he begged. He also asked to remain among the Gerasenes. Apparently the pickin’s were good there. And he saw an opportunity to divide further, to scatter. “Send us into the swine” [Mk 5:12], he begs. And Jesus does just that. 2,000 swine, valuable livestock, run off a cliff into the water and drown.

With this Jesus encounters the third group of beings, the people of Gerasene. The swineherds, who had witnessed it all, told the locals everything that had happened. They saw the possessed man standing before them as normal as can be; indeed, more normal even than they. It was all too much for them. As Mark tells us, “…they were seized with fear” [Mk 5: 15] and begged Jesus to leave them, to go away. They saw the work of God but refused to recognize His presence among them.

Yes, Satan did his work, didn’t he? He scattered. And Jesus allowed it…for now. Satan probably thought he’d won. After all, Jesus was sent away. But the scatterer failed to notice something important…because Jesus didn’t really leave, did He? At least not entirely. For His Word remained there in the person of a disciple.

Jesus sent the one he freed from Satan’s grasp to proclaim the Good News. Unlike Satan, he obeyed. Yes, this man, once possessed by a legion of demons became the first missionary to the Gentiles.

Jesus chooses the most unlikely among us to demonstrate His power and His mercy. No matter how we’ve failed in the past, no matter how sinful, how unworthy, God continues to call us. He will never stop extending His bountiful mercy. For God is love and can do nothing else.

Oh, yes, I didn’t mention one group of people who were there with Jesus during His visit to Gerasene: the apostles. And yet we hear nothing from them, do we? They say not a word. Perhaps they too were frightened by those chilling words and all that took place that day. Only later would they realize why Jesus had taken them to that dark place: to give them a taste of what they would encounter as they “make disciples of all nations.”

And how about us? Do we extend mercy to the most unlikely, the most unloved, those rejected by the world? Do we carry Jesus’ Word and His merciful love into the dark places of our world?

Or do we instead do the work of the scatterer?

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.

Lottery Fever

According to this morning's news reports, the anticipated payoff from tomorrow's Powerball lottery drawing will approach a staggering $1.4 billion. This could and quite likely will increase as more and more people buy tickets during the final day's feeding frenzy. This payoff is a world record for lotteries and if no winning ticket is drawn the record will only be set higher.

Almost everyone I know has bought a ticket, or a fistful of tickets, in the vain hope that they will beat the astronomical odds that say otherwise. The odds of winning when one buys a single ticket are 292.2 million to 1. These odds do not change with the size of the payoff, but are based solely on the  way Powerball is structured. If, therefore, you are considering buying a ticket, the odds of your winning are about the same as pulling your name out of a gigantic hat holding the names of every American. It's estimated that you are 2,000 times more likely to be killed by a lightning strike than to purchase a winning Powerball ticket. If you are a golfer, your chances of making a hole-in-one are about 20,000 times greater than winning this particular lottery. And so, if you've not been killed by a lightning bolt, or if you've never sunk a hole-in-one, I suggest you consider using your funds more constructively by buying an ice cream cone (with sprinkles, or "jimmies" as we call them in New England) or maybe one of those giant bakery cookies filled with macadamia nuts and chunks of white chocolate. Either of these will bring you more joy than the act of tearing up a losing ticket.

Of course, as you might have deduced, the person offering this advice has never actually bought a lottery ticket. Over the years I've been given a few and surprisingly have won more from these gifts than the gifts cost the givers. Despite the fact that my net "winnings" are rather modest and amount to perhaps $10, one can't deny that I have a track record of beating the odds. And yet, blessed as I am with such obvious good fortune, I have no intention of buying a Powerball ticket before tomorrow's drawing.

My reason for avoiding Powerball, or any other big-time lottery, has less to do with the ridiculous odds than with motives. The other day, as the anticipated payoff rose dramatically, I saw the results of a poll in which people were questioned about their plans should they have the winning ticket. When asked what one would do first, only a tiny minority mentioned charitable giving. The vast majority talked about buying things for themselves and their family -- cars, houses, trips, yachts, airplanes, motorhomes, etc. Several people even mentioned cosmetic surgery. In others words, their motives for playing the lottery were, quite simply, more selfish than altruistic.

300+ feet of what?

When such large amounts of money are involved greed tends to overwhelm other, more charitable motives. One sees this displayed among the super-rich who never seem to have enough. The 10,000 square-foot mansion is just too tiny, so construction soon starts on the 50,000 square-foot super home. A few years ago while on a 5-day cruise in the Western Caribbean, I spotted a yacht owned by an American industrialist. It was huge, over 300 feet long, with its own helicopter deck, and was for sale at an asking price of $125 million. I later discovered the owner was selling it because it was just too small. His other yacht is over 400 feet in length. And, yes, I know that he and others like him have all established charitable foundations which they support with their wealth. And yet that support comes from their surplus wealth and not from their need, not from their poverty. Jesus, of course, addresses this failing in an unmistakable way when He points to the widow who gives a small amount to the Temple treasury, but an amount that represented "all she had, her whole livelihood" [See Mk 12:38-44].

Interestingly, not long ago I came across a study that examined the charitable giving of the super-rich -- what it called the "myth of philanthropy." It concluded that the most wealthy actually gave far less than lower and middle income folks. It would seem that not much has changed since the time of Jesus.

Furthermore, one need only examine the record of past lottery winners to see how greed often ruled their lives leading them to squander their winnings on extravagance. As a result, many have found themselves with nothing after only a few years. When selfish gain and greed are the motives one can expect nothing good to come out of it. How did St. Paul put it?

"Those who want to be rich are falling into temptation and into a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires, which plunge them into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all evils, and some people in their desire for it have strayed from the faith and have pierced themselves with many pains" [1 Tim 6:9-10].

And if you don't like (or need) an ice cream cone or a cookie, why not drop a few extra bucks in the collection basket at church, or perhaps give a small donation to your local soup kitchen. Think of it as a means to experience first-hand the mercy of God. As St. Peter reminds us:

"Above all, let your love for one another be intense, because love covers a multitude of sins" [1 Pet 4:8].

God's peace.

Homily: December 30

Readings: 1 Jn 2:12-17 Ps 96; Lk 2:36-40

Early in Luke’s Gospel we encounter Anna and Simeon, two special, almost grandparental figures, perfect models for those of us in the winter years of our lives. They are blessed with the holiness and wisdom most of us seek but too few of us attain.

But this passage about Anna always calls to mind my Dominican eighth-grade teacher. I’m certain Sister Francis Jane looked exactly like Anna. From my perspective as a 13-year-old they were both old – very, very old. And they both saw their mission in life as one of announcing the Good News to everyone they encountered.

How did Luke put it?

“…she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.”

Yes, Anna was telling everyone who came to the Temple to prepare themselves for the gift of redemption. What wonderful news! And it was the same message we eighth-graders received daily from Sister Francis Jane.

“Be prepared,” she’d say, “You and I don’t know when the Lord will summon us into His Holy Presence.” And so, for Sister Francis Jane, readiness just made good spiritual sense.

Over the years I’ve taken a lot of courses in spirituality, but despite all the deep theological insights I learned in those courses, I found myself ignoring most of them and going back to Sister’s four basic rules – rules she repeated again and again as we made our way through eighth grade en route to high school.

Her first rule was to pray.

That’s right, pray – pray every day. “Talk to the Lord,” she’d say. Nothing complicated about it. If you don’t have a prayer life, you can’t be Jesus’ friend. After all, what kind of person never speaks to his friend?

Her second rule was to watch.

Now she didn’t mean spending your time looking for the Second Coming. Too many people today seem to think the end is near every time there’s an earthquake, a flood, a war, or a rumor of war. In the words of the good Sister, “If you stand around looking at the sky watching for Jesus, you just might get hit by a truck – and then you’ll meet Him a bit prematurely.”

Yeah, she was a pretty funny. But what she meant was something a little more subtle. “Keep your eyes open,” she’d tell us. “Watch what’s going on in the world around you. Watch for opportunities to bring Jesus to others. Watch for the good things, and praise God for them. And watch out for the bad things, and then wait...and you’ll be amazed how God will use you to bring good out of the bad.”

“Don’t hide from the world,” she’d say, waving that bony finger at us. “God made the world. It’s good. It’s people who’ve made it bad. And you can’t change it if you hide from it.”

Her third rule of readiness was to avoid sin.

Too many people, she said, make friends with the devil, who dresses up sin trying to make the ugly attractive. I would hope as Catholic Christians we’d all want to be in a state of grace, a state of friendship with the Lord, so He will greet us as a friend when we meet. For this, the good sister said, we should be willing to sacrifice everything.

Her fourth and final rule of readiness was to use everything in our lives to fulfill our calling to serve.

By this she meant that parents should be good parents. Children should be good children. Brothers and sisters, grandparents and grandchildren, priests and nuns, deacons and bishops, doctors, lawyers, flight attendants, plumbers, salespeople, soldiers, carpenters… whatever we do in life, we should do it to the best of our ability.

But it also means we must be good Christians, that our work in the world is important only to the extent that it supports and furthers God’s work. Our preparation for eternity, then, must include using this world’s goods and pleasures for the glory of God and for the good of others. After all, what good is it to achieve great things in this world if they don’t help us achieve the salvation God wants for us in the next? We are all called to serve.

That, in a nutshell, is the late Sister Francis Jane’s program of spiritual direction.

Now, being always ready to encounter Jesus isn’t as easy as it might sound, especially in today’s world, a world that seems to place so many superfluous demands on us. In the days to come there will be a lot of talk about turning over new leaves and making resolutions for the new year — talk of diets, and exercise, and volunteer work, and watching less television…all good things.

But maybe you and I can do something a bit more meaningful. Why don’t we get ready for the Lord and start living each day as if it’s our last. Put away the old person with sin and weakness and live in a new spirit of grace and gratitude.