Homily: Mass for Healing - Saturday, 14th Week of Ordinary Time

Readings: Gn 49:29-32, 50:15-26a; Ps 105; Mt 10:24-33
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Good morning to you all...and praise God!

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Deacon Dana McCarthy, one of the permanent deacons who ministers here at St. Vincent de Paul Parish. I’m honored to have been asked to preach at this Healing Mass celebrated by our pastor, Fr. Peter.

Many charismatic Catholics and other Spirit-filled Christians usually attend this Mass. Is that true today? That’s wonderful – praise God – because we want the Holy Spirit here today in all His power, in all His wisdom, so we can come to know our loving Father better, all through Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Because that’s the first step in true healing, brothers and sisters: to get to know the source of all healing, the Divine Healer. And so today, we’re all drawn together at this Mass of Healing to praise and worship Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, to ask that God’s healing power work miracles in our lives.

You know, I’m going to let you in on a little secret about this Healing Mass: you see, every Mass is a healing Mass. How could it be otherwise? For where God is present there is healing.

He’s certainly present here today. He’s present in us, gathered together in His Holy Name [Mt 18:20]. He’s present in His Word, proclaimed here; for is not Jesus the living Word of God Incarnate? [Jn 1] And in a most special way, He’s present in the Eucharist, in this unique gift through which Our Lord Jesus Christ fulfills His promise to be with us until the end of the age [1 Cor 11:23ff; Mt 28:20].

It’s through this ever-deepening three-fold presence that we can come to know our loving God, the Divine Healer. Just think about it.

Through His presence in us we come to recognize Him in each other. Do you want to know, love, and serve God? Well, then, learn to know and love and serve each other. For it’s in each other we first recognize God’s presence in the world, His love for us.

And then, through His Divine Word, we can plumb the depths of this love, as it is revealed in His plan for our salvation.

And, finally, through the Eucharist, through our Communion we are pulled together by God Himself, united through the Real Presence of His Body and Blood. Indeed, the Church has declared the Eucharist to be the “source and summit of Christian life.” For as St. Paul instructs us, when we receive the Eucharist worthily, “It is no longer I who live but it is Christ who lives in me.” [1 Cor 11:27; Gal 2:20]

Believe me, then, when I say God is here among us and in us, and that He awaits only our response. And yet how often do you and I turn away, refusing to accept God’s healing touch when it’s offered so freely? How often do we respond not in love but in fear?

God offers us forgiveness, the healing of our souls, and yet we don’t accept it, fearing we have sinned too much, or thinking we haven’t sinned at all. God offers us eternal life and yet we fear death. If we believe in the immortality of the soul, in the good news of God’s plan for us – if we believe that, if we have faith in Jesus Christ, what’s there to fear?

“I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus tells us, “whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die” [Jn 11:25-26].

And so never let fear be an obstacle to healing. Accept God’s gift of faith and watch all your fears evaporate.

Jesus did a lot of things during His public ministry. He preached, He taught, He listened, He warned, He prophesied…but the one thing He did everywhere He went was heal…and He was always telling us not to fear.

A few years ago I received one of those emails – you know the kind: the ones that get sent around to everybody – and it told me that in the Bible God says, “Be not afraid,” exactly 365 times, one for every day of the year. But, of course, like so many things that pass through the internet, it’s wrong. And it’s unfortunate that some people feel the need to exaggerate and make up such things, because it’s so unnecessary.

If God had told us to “fear not” only once, this would be sufficient. After all, He only had to say, “Let there be light,” once to begin the work of creation, because God’s Word makes things happen – as we say, it’s efficacious.

As it is, throughout Scripture, we’re told not to fear perhaps 100 or more times. Indeed, in today’s brief Gospel passage from Matthew 10, Jesus tells the Apostles not to be afraid three times. And so this command of His – and it is a command: “Be not afraid!” – must be pretty important.

Fear is a very human emotion; it’s the imagination’s testing of the future, of what could happen. Yes, it’s very human indeed. But by this command Jesus invites us to step out of our world, to move beyond our mere humanity, to suppress the unreality of our imagination, and to step into the reality of the divine life. And that’s pretty big step, at least it is for me.

Did you notice what else He told the Apostles in today’s Gospel passage?

“It is enough for the disciple that he become like his teacher…” [Mt 10:25]

That’s right, Jesus wants us to become like Him. He wants us to step into the true reality of the Divine Life He offers us. This, brothers and sisters, is what makes us disciples, this desire to become like Him. It’s step one on the path of the disciple. Some of us spend most of a lifetime before we have the courage to take this first step, and others…well, let me tell you of an experience I had.

Back in 1954, when I was just ten years old, I was stricken with acute appendicitis and rushed to the hospital. The surgeon operated on me almost as soon as I arrived. In those days they kept you in the hospital forever; and so I had plenty of time to feel sorry for myself. Of course, my family visited me daily, but I had another visitor, a young boy, about eight years old.

His name was Luke. He too was a patient in the hospital, and every afternoon he’d make his rounds of the children’s ward in his pjs, handing out comic books and other goodies to all the kids. He’d ask if I were feeling better, and then tell me that everything would be all right. As he left to visit the next kid, he’d always promise, “I’ll say a prayer for you.”

I didn’t quite know what to make of Luke, and so the morning I was released I asked the nurse about him. “Oh, Luke’s dying of leukemia,” she told me. “He probably has just a few more months, but he likes to make people happy.” As it turned out, Luke died a month or so later, and yet this eight-year-old responded to God’s call to discipleship far better than most of us.

You see, brothers and sisters, the fact that we’re ill, just because we’re in need of healing…this doesn’t free us from responding to God’s call to discipleship. Young Luke, it seems, understood this at a very early age.

Children and young people die every day in our broken world. And people always question how a loving God could allow such things to happen. But it’s only a reasonable question if one believes that this brief life on earth is our ultimate destination, that there’s no eternal life. And so when someone asks me that question, I speak to them of Luke – Luke the disciple. Was Luke healed of his illness? Well, in a way, yes he was. But more importantly Luke was himself a healer.

When I was ordained to the diaconate, my bishop instructed me to preach, to teach and to heal. It’s taken me a long while to understand the depth of that command: that while we might preach with our words, we teach with the example of our lives, and we heal simply by serving, by serving all those whom God places in our lives.

Do you see now what Jesus means when He tells us that “unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven”? [Mt 18:3] And He went on to say, “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” [Mt. 18:4]. Once again we are called to imitate Jesus who, as St. Paul reminds, us “humbled Himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross” [Phil 2:8], even to the point of crying out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” [Mt 27:46]

This, brothers and sisters, is His glory, and this is our salvation; for this is the greatest miracle, the greatest healing of all. What does Jesus accomplish through this redemptive, saving act of His? Quite simply, He makes us children. And He gives us the freedom of the child. He turns us all into Lukes.

This is the very essence of our faith as Christians. Because of this redeeming work of Jesus we can say, “Abba, Father” [Rom 8:15]. Because of Jesus we can call God our Daddy, and we can do so with the freedom, the openness of a child. This is the wonder, the miracle of God becoming one of us in Jesus Christ.

In the Gospel we find those most willing to take that first step are those who come to Jesus for healing. But I especially like the healing of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar of Jericho [Mk 10:46-52].

Surrounded by his disciples, and followed by a crowd, Jesus was leaving Jericho, on His way to Jerusalem, to His passion and death. Near the gates of the city sat Bartimaeus, a blind beggar. Alone in his misery, he knew full well how needy he was, how helpless if left to himself.  His dependence is manifested when Jesus passed buy and Bartimaeus cried out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”

No longer the quiet, blind beggar, no longer looking for alms, he now wanted only what God can give. He wanted divine mercy. Moved by the Spirit, he called Jesus by His messianic title, “Son of David.” Repeatedly shouting, “Son of David have mercy on me.”

Filled with the hope that comes from being in the Lord’s presence, Bartimaeus taught us three essential elements of Christian discipleship:

* He recognized his true condition
* He turned to the only one who could heal him
* And he persisted in the face of all opposition

Our Lord was surrounded by those who had yet to learn the way of the disciple, who tried to keep the blind man, the beggar, far away from the Healer. But Jesus, overruling His disciples, said, “Call him.”

Called by Jesus, Bartimaeus leaped to his feet, tossed aside his beggar’s rags, and went to his Lord with nothing but his enthusiasm, his love, and his faith. And we share in his joy. He asks for that which only God can give. He asks only to be restored to wholeness: “Master, I want to see.”

But Jesus doesn’t say, “I have healed you.” No, He says, “Your faith has saved you.” God doesn’t extend the fullness of His love and power where there is no faith, where it doesn’t find a heart ready to receive Him, a heart that recognizes who Jesus is and calls to Him, that He may intervene and change his life. We must invite Jesus continually to be Lord of our life. He never imposes Himself on us, never forces us to love Him, for love can exist only in freedom. Instead of loving God unconditionally, we spend so much of our time piously trying to manipulate His power to suit our own desires…but not Bartimaeus.

“Go your way,” Jesus says. But as Mark tells us, Bartimaeus turned and followed Jesus on His way, for He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

Oh, that we could all be like leaping Bartimaeus… the blind man who accepted his condition as a child of God. Let’s make that our prayer: that we can recognize our own blindness, all the apparent dead ends in our lives, and expose them to the light of God’s mercy in Jesus Christ. We, all of us, who have lived in the slavery of our own sinfulness, have been made free by the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Yes, brothers and sisters, as Pope Francis recently preached, “He has healed us at the very core of our existence.”

We would do well to think about this, and to think how beautiful, how liberating it is to be child of God.

It is good that only God loves with the love that can heal.

It is good that our God loves so much that He’s willing to go to the Cross for us.

It is good that Jesus on the Cross is God with skin on, a God up close and personal and touching, a God who actually cares for each and every one of us.

It is good that God wants His disciples to seek healing, to implore God boldly and unceasingly.

For the Risen Christ lives. He lives in our world…speaking...guiding...healing…walking with us...eating, drinking, crying. And He wants us to join Him in His healing work.

And so today, let’s all of us make an act of surrender, an act of childlike abandonment.  Let’s take all that we have, all that we are, and turn it over to God. He wants to take it all, and He does so out of a love so great it’s beyond our understanding.

After Mass we’ll have a laying on of hands. I urge you to come forward. Turn your heart and mind to Jesus Christ. Give Him permission to come into your life, to make you His disciple, to work His will within you.

“Heal me, Lord.” Let that be your prayer. “Heal me, Lord, of all that is keeping me from being one with you.”

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.

News You Won't See on TV

Our politically correct and remarkably biased mainstream media can always be counted on to ignore any news that doesn't fit it's worldview, particularly when that news involves the persecution of Christians. Here are just a few of those intentionally overlooked news stories that I came across during less than a half-hour of browsing on the web. I've including a link to each story.

Christians tortured and enslaved in Sinai. This is a horrendous story involving kidnapping, torture, slavery and murder. It describes how more than 7,000 Eritrean Christians were taken from their homes and treated abominably by Arab Beduins. Probably 4,000 of them died as a result of this murderous treatment. Read the complete story, one you are not likely to see on the network evening news...and then ask yourself, "Why not? Why hasn't this been reported?"

Iranian Christians continue to be tried for apostasy and illegal worship. You may recall (if you get your news from non-mainstream sources) that Saeed Abedini, an Iranian-American pastor, was sentenced to eight years in prison last year for "starting a house church aimed to disrupt national security." Such trials are still taking place. Mostafa Bordbar, another Christian convert, is currently being tried in Iran's Revolutionary Court in Tehran. And he is just one of many Christians imprisoned simply because they are Christians. 

Port Said church attacked by Mursi supporters. Gunmen, thought to be supporters of ousted Egyptian president Mohamed Mursi, for the third time in 24 hours, attacked sites in Port Said. In this incident, the Islamists fired on the Mar Mina Church. Fortunately there were no casualties from the attack, although only three days earlier a Coptic priest was murdered in the coastal Sinai city of El Arish. His murder was preceded by attacks at four military checkpoints in the region. Mursi's Muslim Brotherhood has been fierce in its criticism of Coptic Pope Tawadros who is the spiritual leader of Egypt's more than 8 million Coptic Christians. Under Mursi's government, strongly supported by most Islamist groups, including the Muslim Brotherhood, the persecution of Egyptian Christians increased dramatically in both frequency and intensity.

Saudis force Ramadan on non-Muslims. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, a nation we consider, for some unknown reason, an ally, continues to display its unique brand of religious intolerance. During the holy month of Ramadan, when Muslims are required to fast from food, drink, and smoking during daylight hours, the authorities have decreed that all foreigners, including non-Muslims, must also follow the Ramadan fast. Those whom the religious police see breaking the fast in public will be arrested, fired from their jobs, and expelled from the kingdom. What a country!

The following story doesn't relate directly to Christian persecution, but it is symptomatic of how so-called liberals love to force their distorted worldview on others, particularly the Catholic Church.

Jimmy Carter: Catholic Church Causes Discrimination. Former President Jimmy Carter, certainly among the worst of our twentieth-century presidents, continues to cement his reputation as our worst ex-president. The man simply refuses to sit on the front porch of the family farmhouse in Plains and dictate another volume of soporific memoirs. No, dedicated to embarrassing himself and our nation, he has become a globe-trotting, self-appointed ambassador who apparently believes he is called to solve the most pressing of the world's problems. Sadly, his solutions are inevitably wrongheaded and only exacerbate the problems they are intended to solve. Spurred on by these failures, he has now decided to take on the Catholic Church, which he considers a prime cause of sexism because of its refusal to ordain women priests. His comments, repeated in the linked article, only highlight his ignorance of both Church history and Catholic theology. The Church, of course, will not change its teaching since it believes it is based on divine, not human, law. I believe I can safely say that the Church will listen politely to our former president, ignore his words, and continue to pray for him.

Flannery O'Connor on Christianity today

O'Connor with peacock at Andalusia

Among the books in my personal library, perhaps my favorite is the fascinating collection of Flannery O'Connor's letters, The Habit of Being (1988). Here's a sample of her straightforward wisdom:

"One of the effects of modern liberal Protestantism has been gradually to turn religion into poetry and therapy, to make truth vaguer and vaguer and more and more relative, to banish intellectual distinctions, to depend on feeling instead of thought, and gradually to come to believe that God has no power, that he cannot communicate with us, cannot reveal himself to us, indeed has not done so, and that religion is our own sweet invention. This seems to be about where you find yourself now. Of course, I am a Catholic and I believe the opposite of all this." - Flannery O'Connor in a letter to Alfred Corn, June 16, 1962

And some wonder at the dwindling congregations of mainline Protestant churches. Honest seekers of the truth with not look where the very concept of objective truth is rejected.


O'Connor died of lupus in 1964 at age 39. The above photo shows her on the front steps of her family farm, Andalusia in Milledgeville, Georgia, as she greets one of her beloved peacocks.

Homily: 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings:1 Kgs 19:16-21; Ps 19; Gal 5:1,13-18; Lke 9:51-62

Growing up in suburban New York back in the fifties, I loved the long days of summer vacation. And I especially liked those hours of daylight between supper and sunset. Right after dinner, all the kids in the neighborhood would run out into the street to play stick-ball or curb-ball, two perfect games created by God for the exclusive enjoyment of the children of New York. We’d play until right before sunset, for that’s when we’d begin to hear voices, the voices of mothers calling for their children.

The youngest would always be called first. Then came the twins, Robert and Dick Moll, whose strict Jewish mother was sure they’d be hit by a car if they stayed out a minute past dusk. Next came Larry Henriques, Kenny Flowers, Teddy Nichols, and me. And then the older kids, who’d get maybe another 15 minutes.

It was quite a ritual. I was particularly good at pleading and begging for more time. “It’s a tie game, Mom. We can’t end on a tie game.” Sometimes it actually worked and I’d win a few precious minutes. But more often the next thing I’d hear would be the booming voice of my father. This was no request. It was a command. The alternative? Well, that was something no ten-year-old mind wanted to dwell on. So when my father called, I obeyed...well, usually.

Remembering those days, I realized how little we change as we age. Oh, we change on the surface. We mature physically, emotionally, and intellectually. We may no longer look like children, but we are still childish in so many ways. We’ve learned to place a few controls on our emotions, so we won’t embarrass ourselves in polite company. And unlike children with their transparent excuses, we’ve learned to create and express nice-sounding, politically correct rationales for our less-than-perfect behavior. Quite simply, we’ve become devious. Hiding behind our age and the trappings of adulthood, we manage to fool ourselves into believing we’re no longer the naïve, dependent children we once were.

Indeed, most of us actually believe we’re self-sufficient, independent beings, in complete control of our lives. We have our homes, our jobs, our investments, our nice cars, our retirement home in The Villages… Everything is right with our little world.

But then reality intrudes in the form of the Gospel. In the Gospel we’re confronted by uncomfortable truths that conflict with our seemingly comfortable lives.

The first truth? We are all called. And Jesus’ call is at the very heart of Christian discipleship.

In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus, knowing what lies ahead of Him in Jerusalem, nevertheless begins His journey full of resolve because His mission is nothing less than the salvation of humanity. And as He and His disciples make their way across Samaria, Jesus continues to call us to Him. “Follow me,” He says, first to one, then another. Jesus calls them – the same invitation He offers to you and to me. And what’s their response? What’s our response?

Like the children playing in that New York street 50 years ago, all those called by Jesus expressed a willingness to comply…just not quite yet. Each made an excuse for putting it off. Each was bound to his current life by something he considered more important than God and His call. How utterly foolish of them…and of us! They fell prey to the misguided and soul-destroying belief that the things of this world take precedence over God.

Oh, their excuses sound legitimate enough. “Let me bury my father first,” one replied. Sounds reasonable, until we understand what he really meant. His father, you see, was still alive or the man wouldn’t have been there. It was Jewish custom to bury their dead on the same day they died.

What this young man was really saying is that he was not yet willing to leave the comforts of home and family. Maybe after his father died…But Jesus would have none of it. “Come away and proclaim the kingdom of God,” He responds. Jesus knows that, in everything, there’s a crucial moment when one is expected to act. This was this young man’s crucial moment, and he missed it.

When another expressed a desire to respond, Jesus looked into his heart and saw unwillingness to accept the poverty and insecurity he’ll be called to face. “The Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.” Are you ready for that?

Still another wanted to say goodbye to the folks at home, but Jesus told him a disciple must be prepared to sacrifice everything, even the affection of a family. “Whoever puts his hand to the plow but keeps looking back is unfit for the reign of God.” Everyone in that rural audience knew that if one wants to plow a straight furrow, he must pay attention to where he’s going, not where he’s been.

They also knew the story told in our first reading. When called by Elijah, Elisha, a wealthy man with 12 yoke of oxen, gave up everything. Using his wooden plows as fuel, he barbecued his oxen, distributed the food among his people. He gave up every asset, left his parents, and broke all ties with his comfortable life. There was no going back for Elisha.

The world sees Elisha’s actions as the height of irresponsibility, but God doesn’t call us to conform to the world. He calls us to conform to His Will.

Some of you may object that God’s call is reserved for prophets and saints, for specially chosen men and women. And you’d be wrong. God issues His call to each of us. As St. Paul told the people of Galatia, “Remember that you have been called to live in freedom – but not a freedom that gives reign to the flesh.”

For here lies one of the great truths and great paradoxes of Christianity: We are truly free only when we accept our complete dependence on the will of God. Anything else leads to slavery, the slavery of sin, the slavery of materialism, the slavery of setting ourselves up like gods in control of our own destiny.

Listen to the call of Christ. It is Christ who sets us free – who calls us to freedom. Stand firm, St. Paul instructs us, don’t slip back into slavery.

But sometimes it’s easier to remain enslaved. Like the faithless Israelites who cursed Moses for leading them into the suffering of the desert. Better to live in slavery than to die in the desert. It’s no different today. The entire world – the world of media, advertising, entertainment, politics – all the machinery of our secular society entices us into slavery. It’s a message designed to drown out the message of Jesus Christ: “Listen to us” the world shouts at us, “We will tell you what you want!”

But Jesus doesn’t shout. He doesn’t force us. No, He asks us; for He respects our freedom.

“What do you want?” he asks. Do you really want the life in the Spirit I have promised you?

Do you really want to follow me? Do you want the exhilarating joy of God’s freedom?

If you walk in my light, if you walk in the light of Christ, I will free you from the darkness that surrounds you.

What do you want?

And then, brothers and sisters, you and I are left to give our answer.

Homily: 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Zed 12:10-11;13:1 ;Ps 63; Gal 3:26-29; Lk 9:18-24

Something we notice when reading the Gospels is that Jesus always seems to be asking questions. Now, when you and I ask a question, we’re usually looking for an answer. We want to know something we didn’t know before. But Jesus asks questions not to inform Himself, but to inform the person being questioned.

For example, I know you all remember that remarkable scene when the friends of a paralytic lower him through the roof, hoping Jesus would heal him. Jesus responds by saying, “Child, your sins are forgiven.” Now this really bothers a group of scribes who witness the scene and they whisper among themselves, accusing Jesus of blasphemy. Jesus simply turns and asks them: “Why are you thinking such things in your hearts? Yes, Jesus knows the answer, but He wants the scribes to think about what they’re doing, to examine their own consciences.

And remember that wonderful incident in Jericho when Jesus confronted Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, and asked him: “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus simply responded, “Master, I want to see.” No surprise there. But then Jesus says, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.”

Jesus said nothing about healing his physical blindness, but instead addressed the state of Bartimaeus’ soul. Jesus didn’t say, “I have healed you.” No, He said, “…your faith has saved you.” Bartimaeus received his sight immediately, both his physical and his spiritual sight; for we’re told he stayed with Jesus and followed Him on the way.

And then there’s that scene in John’s Gospel when almost all of His disciples left Him because they couldn’t accept His teaching on the Eucharist. Jesus asked the Apostles, “Do you also want to leave?” It’s Peter who responded, and with a question of his own: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.

Yes, Jesus is always asking questions, and in today’s reading from Luke, He again questioned the Apostles. This brief dialogue took place at Caesarea Philippi – not a Jewish place, but a pagan place. Nearby were temples devoted to the pagan gods, to the Syrian god, Baal, and to the Greek god, Pan, the god of the wild, of nature. There was even a temple there celebrating the divinity of the Roman emperor. In the midst of all this, surrounded by false gods made by men in their own image and likeness, Jesus confronts the twelve and asks: “Who do the crowds say that I am?”

Such a simple, non-threatening question – just tell me what folks are saying. Take a poll, sample public opinion, let me know what the man or woman in the street thinks about me. Today he probably would have said, “Did you Google my name? What popped up?”

Oh, yes, all kinds of things popped up…lots of things.  And so they told Him. After all, they had no stake in it. They had only to pass along the opinions of others.

Once again, Jesus knows the answer, for He too has certainly heard the crowds. He knows full well what the people say about Him: He is a prophet, John the Baptist or Elijah or Jeremiah, returned from the dead. And this exactly is what the Apostles tell Him.

But, again, Jesus didn’t ask the question to hear what He already knows. No, He wants the Apostles to question themselves about His identity…because their answer will determine their future. Once they come to a firm understanding of exactly who Jesus is, and once they accept the truth of that answer, their lives will change forever. And so Jesus leads them into the future by asking them: “But who do you say that I am?”

And again it’s Peter who shows the way. Peter, the de facto leader of the twelve, the boaster who hides his weakness behind a façade of bluster, the disciple who will shed tears of shame in the face of his threefold denial – yes, it’s this Peter who can answer by saying: “The Christ of God.” In Matthew’s Gospel his words are slightly different: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

Filled with the Spirit, Peter exclaims, “You are the promised One, the One sent by God.” It’s confirmed when Jesus tells them to keep quiet. And He goes on to tell them what will happen to Him: He, the long-awaited Messiah, will be rejected by those who await Him. The One sent by God will suffer greatly and be killed.

As Zechariah prophesied in our first reading, “they shall look on him whom they have pierced, and they shall mourn for him.” But He also gives them a glimpse of hope: on the third day He will be raised.

Of course the disciples understand nothing of this. The very thought of a murdered Messiah simply doesn’t compute. But there’s more…because discipleship has consequences. Jesus leads them into their own future, for they must follow Him, take the same path, a path that leads to the Cross. It’s here He introduces the great paradox of Christian life: that we will save our lives, only if we’re willing to risk losing our lives. And if we do, God will raise us just as He raised up His Son on the third day.

You see, Jesus was looking for more than a quick one-liner answer to His question. He was looking for an answer that lasts a lifetime. It wasn’t a question just for those first disciples, for Peter and that small band of followers. For Jesus turns to us as well…

“You there! Yes, you…Who do you say that I am?”

Deep down we all know what He means, don’t we? Do I really have to take up those crosses – those people, those hardships, those sorrows, those personal calamities – that conspire to make my life so difficult?

“Yes, if you would be my disciple.”

As Paul told us, “For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.” To be “clothed in Christ” is to accept the cost of discipleship, to accept His invitation to love, to love as Jesus loved when He took up His cross. This is what it means to be a cross-bearer alongside Our Lord.

And so He continues to question us, “Who do you say that I am?” The question just hangs in the air, doesn’t it? It won’t go away, brothers and sisters. We can try to ignore it, drown it out with the sounds of our lives…but it remains, waiting for an answer.

Jesus doesn’t want opinions. He wants an answer: “Who do you say that I am?”  There comes a time when we must answer this question, make our own confessions, as Peter did. But along with the question comes the promise of joy, the promise of eternal life beyond our imagining.

Brothers and sisters, Jesus is here with us right now, present in this gathering as he always is — the walking, talking, living presence of God in our lives. We have already listened to Him as He spoke to us through His Word, and in a few moments, He’ll be present on this Altar. When we join together and process to communion, when we extend our hands, when we eat and drink, will we be able to give him our final answer — no opinions, just the testimony of our lives. “Who do you say that I am?

Homily: Wednesday, 12th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Gen 15:1-12,17-18; Ps 105; Mt 7:15-20
Do you remember that preacher, Harold Camping, who predicted the world would end on October 21, 2011. He collected all sorts of donations from supporters, and used much of the money to put up billboards across the country announcing his prediction. I recall seeing several along the interstate on one of our trips up north. Of course, as it turned out, he wasn’t a very adept prophet, and the fateful day came and went.

About the same time we began to hear rumblings from new-agers that centuries ago the Mayans had predicted the world would end on December 21, 2012. It seems that millions of people throughout the world had become convinced that these primitive folks apparently had some inside knowledge. Of course, that day came and went as well. The prophecy was grudgingly accepted as false and I suppose the true believers are now searching for the next false prophet.

Yes, our world is filled with false prophets and their followers, people so caught up in their fantasies that they’re unable to recognize the truth. But many not only reject the truth; they reject the source of all truth. They reject God Himself. And by doing so they can’t accept that humanity’s ultimate vocation is salvation, eternal life, the reason we were created in the first place.

In the Gospel passage we just heard from the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus warns us about false prophets, telling us we can recognize them by their fruits. How easy to listen to the words of the false prophet, all the while ignoring what those words yield.

False prophets abound, but fortunately we have the example of others, of those who yield good fruit. How blessed we’ve been with the saintly popes who have led the Church in recent years – with John Paul, Benedict and Francis.

But this has been true in every age of the Church. The Spirit seems always to raise up the saintly men and women most needed by the Church and the world. Whenever the Church faced a crisis, God supplied just the right person to handle it; people like Leo the Great, Catherine of Sienna, Francis Assisi, and two saints whose feasts we celebrated just last Saturday: Thomas More and John Fisher.

Both were executed by King Henry VIII because they refused to accept the king’s temporal authority over Christ’s universal Church. Who could be more relevant to our own times?  Indeed, Pope John Paul II named Thomas More the patron saint of political leaders.

Our modern politicians would do well to emulate these two 16th-century martyrs, for each was both wise and virtuous. In wisdom each applied his intelligence toward the accomplishment of what was good, and in virtue each habitually chose the good, regardless of the consequences.
This, of course, demands courage, the sort of personal courage rare among politicians of any time and place, but increasingly rare today.

How sad that we live in a world where true wisdom and true virtue are more often ridiculed than praised. For too many, cleverness has supplanted wisdom and pragmatism has replaced virtue, and the intoxicating and corrupting influence of power becomes oh so apparent. Too many see no difference between good and bad fruit because they no longer recognize virtue, they do longer discriminate between good and evil.

Relativism has replaced truth, and like Pontius Pilate they can look into the eyes of their God and sneer, “What is truth?” Like Pilate, some trees are deceivingly and splendidly arrayed, but have no fruit…while others bear only bad fruit, because they have chosen their will over God’s.

The Church will provide today’s prophets, brothers and sisters, and we will recognize them by their fruits. The patron of our parish, St. Vincent de Paul, warned his brothers not to become those wolves in sheep‘s clothing that Jesus warned us about.

In Vincent’s words…

“They pride themselves on their inflated imaginations. They are satisfied with the sweet exchanges they have with God in prayer; they even talk about it like angels. But when they come away is there any question of working for God, of suffering, practicing mortification, teaching the poor, searching for the lost sheep, being pleased when they lack something, accepting sickness or some other misfortune? No, let us not deceive ourselves: our whole task consists in doing the Father’s will.”

And that, brothers and sisters, is our task as well.

Homily: Wednesday, 11th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 2 Cor 9:6-11; Ps 112; Mt 6:1-6, 16-18

I grew up in the Northeast, along the coast, so whenever I read in the Bible about sowing and reaping and harvesting and scattering…well, these farming metaphors don’t really strike home. About the closest I ever came to farming was mowing the lawn. But living near the ocean I did spend some time on the water. Indeed, I had a number of friends who were commercial fisherman, and on a few occasions I joined them on their boats.

Although fishing at sea is very different from farming, there are similarities. Both are dependent on the whims of nature, and nature can be harsh. Both occupations can experience the kind of failure that can result in financial catastrophe, the loss of a season’s income.

Some elements of our lives are simply beyond our control. And I suppose it’s good that this is so, that we come to know we are creatures with limitations. The challenges and disappointments of life are strong reminders that we are simply men and women. We are not God.

Of course, you don’t have to be a farmer or a fisherman to experience loss. Diane and I volunteer as chaplains at our local hospital. Earlier this week, we received a late-night call to go to the ICU to meet with the family of a dying woman. As it turned out, she died just moments before we arrived.

Even though she had been seriously ill for some time and her family expected her death, her three grown children were devastated. Her son, especially, was overcome with grief. He had cared for day and night for over seven years and just couldn’t handle her death. His care for her had been a work of selfless charity that few of us could probably handle.

I suppose we spent at least 30 minutes simply listening to all three as they poured out their hearts and spoke of their mother. Fortunately all were believing Christians, and responded well to our feeble attempts to comfort them and they willingly joined us in prayer.

In today’s Gospel passage Jesus reminds us that our works of charity must be acts of humility. Believe me, I am always humbled in the presence of the dying and those who care for them.

And charity must be hidden, Jesus tells us, the kind of work that seeks no human reward. Charity, the business of love, yields no return. There’s no bountiful crop, no net-breaking catch, no obvious reward.

Nature is very fickle with her rewards, but not the Father, the One Who is love. As Jesus reminds us, these works of ours please the Father greatly. He loves our love. And He will reward us, just not always in ways we might expect. Perhaps the Father, who sees our works in secret, places a little something in our heavenly fishing net or silo. Maybe that little something, the Father’s reward, is something far greater than we can ever imagine.

My father, speaking of charity, used to say, “Throw bread on the water and it comes back strawberry shortcake.”  You just never know when it will arrive.

Homily: Wednesday, Tenth Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 2 Cor 3:4-11 • Psalm 99 • Matthew 5:17-19

Not long ago I heard a theologian suggest that Jesus didn’t know He was divine until the Resurrection. He dismissed the many, many Gospel passages that suggest otherwise, saying they were all concocted by believers after the fact. In other words, he thought the New Testament writers were all liars. Of course, I don’t agree.

I thought of him when reading today’s Gospel passage in which Jesus claimed boldly that He had “come not to abolish the Law…but to fulfill” it. This declaration would have shocked any Jew who heard it; for only God Himself can fulfill the Law. Jesus would be seen as a fool, or as a deranged, self-serving false prophet, or as the incarnate Son of God.

For us, of course, they’re the words of someone who knows exactly what he’s about. They’re the words of one who knows he is Jesus of Nazareth, from the household of Mary and Joseph; but they’re also the words of one who’s fully aware of his true Person, who has the extraordinary understanding of himself as Son of God.

When he says, “I have come”, he’s not talking about his recent journey from Galilee to Judea. No, His is the coming of the Divine Word, a unique, metaphysical, historical descent from the Father. He is both the Source of the Law and its fulfillment, the Alpha and the Omega.

His coming, then, is absolute. His teaching is absolute. He stands in our midst simply and humbly, but wielding the power of God. And his Word flows out of him and imposes itself on us just as the rising sun sheds its light and warmth on the earth. Only the source of the Law could preach the Sermon on the Mount, offer the beatitudes, bring to full fruition every tiny seed of the Law, show us the true spirit of the Law, the truth hidden in the letter. The Truth remains hidden until he comes: “I have come…to fulfill it.” It’s only through Jesus’ coming that the Law can reach its full perfection.

He also tells us that nothing in the Law shall perish, not a jot or tittle, not a comma or serif, for God is the author of the Law. Christ’s presence doesn’t abolish the Law, for Christ, as early Christians believed, is the Law. Christ and Law are Lord and Word. Before his coming in the flesh he communicated only indirectly, through messengers; now he communicates in person. When Jesus appears in the world and communicates face to face, He embraces the Law; He tells us and shows us what it truly is, bringing it to fulfillment in His very person.

This is why we revere and continue to read the Law and the Prophets. This is why the Church Fathers taught that the entire Old Testament points to Jesus, its fulfillment. And recall how Jesus, Himself, changed the hearts of His two disciples on the road to Emmaus by opening the Scriptures to them, taking them through Moses and all the Prophets interpreting his Word.

Jesus is the author of both the cosmos and the Law. The cosmos is his artistic revelation, through order and beauty, but the Law is his personal revelation, his face-to-face revelation in words. Without the Law, without Jesus Christ, we wouldn’t understand the cosmos. We wouldn’t understand anything.

God's peace.

Back in Business

I haven't posted anything in almost a month. I've simply been too busy since returning in early June from our trip up north. And then, about 10 days ago, my hard drive crashed and put me out of business for a day or two. Rather than replacing the drive, I ended up buying a new PC with Windows 8 and all the trimmings...well, the few trimmings I actually need. The cost of a new PC is really quite reasonable these days, especially if you're not a gamer, and I'm not. I am, however, an amateur photographer of sorts, so my hard drive contained several hundred gigabytes of the photos and videos I've taken over the years. Fortunately, I had actually planned ahead and backed up everything daily using "Just Cloud". As you might imagine, the restoration of all these gigabytes of data has taken quite some time, but the task is now complete. No data was lost, so I'm very happy.

A lot has happened since my last post. The Internal Revenue Service has admitted focusing its considerable powers on conservative and religious organizations thus exposing itself as the enforcement arm of the administration's political team. I trust their local field agents will not hold my repetition of this revelation against me come April 15, and will instead remember all the love I have often expressed for this agency and its employees. Fortunately my income is negligible and my assets few, so I am hardly an enticing target.

NSA Headquarters

Not to be outdone, the NSA, the Fort Meade-based intelligence organization that prefers to remain in the deep shadows, has also been the recipient of more than a little unwonted exposure. It would seem that Edward Snowden, the whistle-blower / traitor / hero / enemy spy (pick one), has informed the world about the NSA's apparently insatiable appetite for data. In its enthusiasm for accomplishing its mission to save us from our enemies, it decided that the best way to identify potential bad guys is to gather everything on everybody. That way they will miss nothing. Of course, the fact that this might well violate the letter and spirit of the Fourth Amendment's prohibition of unreasonable searches and seizures was seemingly overlooked in all the post-9-11 excitement. I'm sure they'll get it all sorted out soon; and don't worry, the NSA is completely apolitical and would never use this huge pile of data inappropriately.

Justice Kennedy

And then this week the Supreme Court, thanks to Justice Kennedy, its designated swing-voter, issued a 5-4 decision declaring the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) unconstitutional. In doing so the Court overturned more than the Act; they also overturned several thousand years of human history, tradition, and moral values. Justice Kennedy, reading the majority opinion, stated that the Act represented "a bare congressional desire to harm a politically unpopular group," that it "demeans the [same-sex] couple" and "humiliates tens of thousands of children now being raised by same-sex couples." The opinion goes on to state that "the principal purpose and the necessary effect of this law are to demean those persons who are in a lawful same-sex marriage."

In affect, then, Justice Kennedy and his four liberal colleagues have accused the legislators who voted for DOMA back in 1996 of willfully wanting to demean, harm, and humiliate the nation's homosexual citizens. Those legislators include now-Vice President Joe Biden, Senator Patrick Leahy, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, Senator Patty Murray, Senator Carl Levin, and many more Democrats. And DOMA was, of course, signed into law by then-President Bill Clinton. There's irony in here somewhere.

Hagia Sophia [(c) National Geographic]

Looking overseas, there's some interesting news out of Turkey. One of Christendom's oldest and greatest cathedrals, Hagia Sophia in Instanbul (pictured above), was desecrated and turned into a mosque after the Ottoman Turks sacked Constantinople back in the 15th century. In the 1920s, when the nationalistic secularist Ataturk removed the Ottomans from power, the cathedral-mosque was converted into a museum.

Studios Monastery in Turkey

But this could soon change. There is a movement to transform the building into a working mosque once again. And this is not a unique case. A number of Turkey's historical Christian churches are being turned into mosques. Indeed, even the world's oldest still functioning Christian monastery, the Studios Monastery, built in the 5th century and dedicated to St. John the Baptist, is also threatened. The locals have accused the monks of anti-Turkish activities and of illegally occupying the monastery which they claim is on land belonging to the local villagers. According to news reports the appeals court in Ankara sided with the villagers. The court stated that the property on which the monastery has sat for over 1,600 years doesn't really belong to the monastery. The court also declared that the monastery was built on top of a mosque. Now that would be quite trick since the monastery was constructed almost 200 years before Muhammad was born. The logic of Islam continues to amaze.

Come, Lord Jesus! [Rev 22:20]

Homily: 10th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year C)

Been There, Done That... (Sunday, June 9)


Readings: 1 Kg 17:17-24; Ps 30; Gal 1:11-19; Lk 7:11-17

As we hear the Gospel read each Sunday, we encounter several movements, threads that run from beginning to end. Each is like the plot-line of a novel, but of course in the Gospel we encounter truth, not fiction.

Now, in today’s Gospel passage from Luke we find several of these threads intersecting with the others. The first and perhaps the most obvious thread is the Gospel story itself: the journey Jesus makes from the moment of the Incarnation through His public ministry, and on to His passion, death and Resurrection. It’s a story of fulfillment; the realization of all the prophecies, of all the foreshadowings that fill the Old Testament. 

Elijah prays for the widow's son

And so it’s no mystery why the Church includes the story of the prophet Elijah among today’s readings. For in this story we see an almost perfect foreshadowing of the miracle in today’s Gospel passage. Elijah calls on the power of God that, through him, the poor widow’s son might be brought back to life. In the Gospel, Jesus seems to accomplish the same thing: another poor widow’s son is brought back to life.

But a foreshadowing in the Old Testament doesn’t point to a mirror image of itself; no, it always points to something greater. For example, in our first reading Elijah must call on and rely on God’s power – “O LORD, my God, let the life-breath return to the body of this child” [1 Kg 17:21]. But that’s not all. Elijah commits himself body and soul, literally stretches himself out on the dead child; and by doing so foreshadows something much greater. For in this act we get a glimpse of Jesus becoming one with us, becoming one of us, matching us body to body. He takes on the wholeness of our lives, our illnesses, our sorrows, even our death.

And then Scripture tells us: “The LORD heard the prayer of Elijah; the life breath returned to the child’s body and he revived” [1 Kg 17:22]. But there are other differences. And Elijah, the prophet, points to something else, something far greater. For, unlike Elijah, Jesus calls on no one but Himself: “Young man, I tell you, arise!” [Lk 7:14] Yes, unlike the prophet, Jesus relies only on His own authority, and by doing so reveals His divinity to all who will accept it.

And here we encounter a point on a second, parallel thread running through the Gospel, a thread of revelation, a revelation of exactly who Jesus is, a thread that reveals to all the divinity of Jesus Christ. Although His divinity is proclaimed from the very beginning – Indeed, Mark begins his Gospel by saying, “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God” [Mk 1:1] …but like the apostle Thomas most of us still need to see to believe. And so Jesus, throughout His ministry, tells us and shows us. Through His Word and His works we, too, come to see and to believe.

A third thread that winds its way through the Gospels is perhaps less obvious because we’re so focused on Jesus, we don’t always notice the others who populate the Gospels. This thread follows the movement of the disciples, their coming to knowledge and understanding over time. For most of them it’s a slow, often erratic movement, full of fits and starts; but the disciples, too, move ultimately to the truth, thanks to the Holy Spirit. It’s a movement to faith, to hope, to love.

As we watch the disciples move toward this understanding, we notice others: some are indifferent; some are intrigued and follow Jesus for a time, until He teaches something they can’t accept; and others, why they reject Jesus outright.

Although this rejection of Jesus is not particularly surprising, Jesus’s message certainly was. Filled with hope, His message also forced people to recognize their sinfulness…and most of us don’t care much for that. Yes, Jesus can always be counted on to say some surprising things. Indeed, they’re more than just surprising; they go against the grain of the world; they’re truly counter-cultural.

In today’s Gospel passage He approaches a poor widow as she walks alongside the coffin containing her only son’s body. She’s in tears. Not only does she grieve for her dead son, but she grieves also for herself. For who will take care of her now? And what does Jesus say? In effect, “Stop crying.” [Lk 7:13]

As a deacon I’ve conducted my share of funerals and vigils, and I’ve spent time with many tearful people who have lost loved ones. But I’ve never been tempted to tell one of them, “Now, stop crying.”

As faithful Christians, we know all our sorrows will ultimately be turned to joy. As the Book of Revelation tells us: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning…” [Rv 21:4]  But until that day comes, we experience those sorrows, and we shed those tears.

If you’ve ever spent time with a loved one or friend as they were dying, you know how difficult it can be. You wish you could just reach out and touch them and heal them, to ease their suffering, to bring them back to physical wholeness, so they can stay with you and continue to be a part of your life. Can you imagine the sense of pure joy that such a miraculous healing would bring?

Jesus raises the widow's dead son

Well, in today’s Gospel passage that’s exactly what happened.  “Do not weep,” Jesus says to the grieving mother. And then, without giving her a chance to respond, he does the miraculous and gives all of us a taste of the joy we can expect.

But what was the effect on those who witnessed this miracle? According to Luke, fear seized the crowd; and rightly so. You and I would be afraid as well. For the dead simply don’t come back to life. And then Luke goes on to tell us, “they glorified God” [Lk 7:16] for who else could do this? Yes, they were sure this was God’s work. They just weren’t sure how Jesus fit in.

Interestingly, Luke gives us two responses. Some apparently saw Jesus as another Elijah and spread the word that, “A great prophet has arisen in our midst.” But others, it would seem, believed they had witnessed something greater, and proclaimed: “God has visited his people.” [Lk 7:16]

And with that the work of evangelization began: “This report about him spread through the whole of Judea and in all the surrounding region” [Lk 7:17]. Yes, God has visited His people, and brought us a message of hope.

“Don’t you see who I am?” He asks us all. “I am the way and the truth and the life” [Jn 14:6]. And the life I offer you is eternal life.

I will carry you out of the darkness if only you will let me.

I will free you from the prisons of your own making, from your fears, your sorrows...from your sins.

Come to me and exchange the darkness for the light of Christ.

“When the Lord saw her, he was moved with pity for her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’ He stepped forward and touched the coffin.” [Lk 7:13-14]

Brothers and sisters, no matter what darkness might overcome us, the Lord Jesus enters the darkness. He touches the coffin. He touches the wood. He receives the nails. He cries out in despair, just as we often do the same.

Jesus, you see, has been there. He enters into the darkness, our darkness. And on some glorious day He will call us into the Light…the Light of a New and Everlasting Life.

You can count on it.

Homily: Wednesday 9th Week of Ordinary Time

Scripture and the Power of God (Wednesday, June 5)

Readings: Tb 3:1-11a, 16-17a  • Psalm 25 • Mk 12:18-27
 
Today’s Gospel reading includes the verse that actually led me to want to study Sacred Scripture more deeply. It was about 40 years ago, and I recall hearing this passage read one morning at daily Mass. When I heard Jesus say: “Are you not misled because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God?” [Mk 12;24] I was truly surprised.

It was then I realized I was really no better than the Sadducees. I, too, didn't know the Scriptures as I should. Yes, Jesus told them flat-out that they were wrong. And after explaining why, in case they hadn’t understood Him, He told them once again they were wrong.

He didn’t mince words, did He? It would seem Jesus was more concerned with the truth than He was about preserving the Sadducees’ self-esteem. Setting an example for the Church, He didn’t hesitate to speak magisterially, to teach the truth, and to do so with authority. As many who heard him "were astonished at his teaching because He spoke with authority" [Lk 4:32]

Well, this dialog between Jesus and the Sadducees made an impression on the younger me. I realized that I, too, really didn’t understand the Bible. Neither did I grasp the origin of the Church’s teachings in so many areas. And so began my life-long journey with Sacred Scripture. And I’m still being surprised by what I encounter.

Ironically, a surprise struck yesterday when I focused on the entirety of that verse. Listen again…“Are you not misled because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God?” [Mk 12:24]

I’d never really gotten past Jesus’s reference to “the Scriptures.” I’d never really thought very much about His reference to the “power of God.” And yet that reference is so central to what Jesus was teaching the Sadducees.

The Sadducees not only didn’t believe in the resurrection of the dead; they believed in no afterlife. They didn’t believe in angels. They believed only in what they read in the Torah, the first five books of Scripture. Only the Torah was inspired.

Of course, Jesus goes right to the second of those books, the Book of Exodus, and shows them how life after death, the resurrection of the dead, is confirmed by the Word of God to Moses.

The Sadducees hadn’t recognized this, because they were very smart people, among the most educated of those first-century Jews; and so like many of today’s very smart people, they rejected the truth of the Resurrection because…well, because people simply don’t rise from the dead.

I suppose they’re right…people don’t rise from the dead. They don’t rise from the dead without God’s help; and that’s what Jesus was telling them.

You Sadducees have forgotten about the power of God. Do you really think God would create you in a wonderful act of personal love, and reveal Himself to you, and provide you with guidance and protection…do you really believe He’d do all this and then let you rot in a grave?

No, He loves you more than this. You have forgotten about the infinite power of your Creator.

Sometimes we forget as well. Sometimes we fall into despair because we don’t accept the power of God in our lives, the very power that brought each of us into being.

God’s power is working constantly throughout the world and in each of our lives. Take a moment today to thank God for that power.

Early Morning Thoughts

So far our trip to Massachusetts has been wonderful. We've already visited our elder daughter and younger son and their families and are now spending time with our elder son and his wife and daughter. Tomorrow we begin the final leg of our trip and head for N. Andover, Massachusetts to visit our younger daughter and her family. Our children have certainly been a blessing, but these nine grandchildren are God's special gift, living reminders that our lives have been truly fruitful. 

At the moment, though, I sit here in our hotel room in Dartmouth, Massachusetts, sipping a nice, hot cup of coffee and trying to be quiet. Dear Diane, you see, is still asleep. I, on the other hand, have been awake since 5 a.m. I've read the morning paper, a disappointing fish-wrapper called The Providence Journal, prayed Morning Prayer, checked out the "breaking news" online, and now sit in the dark basking in the glow of my iPad screen. And so I might as well share a few early morning thoughts with my steadily tiny audience.

The Second Amendment. I'll probably catch some flak for this one: a post by a deacon in support of the 2nd Amendment to our Constitution. Yep, I'm all for it. 

One of the few things that stands in the way of a government becoming totalitarian is an armed citizenry. This is why one should always mistrust the motives of politicians who want to disarm the people. 

George Orwell, a socialist who could never be accused of being a right-wing conservative, once wrote:

"That rifle hanging on the wall of the working-class flat or labourer's cottage is the symbol of democracy. It is our job to see that it stays there."

Our Founding Fathers recognized this as well when they included the 2nd Amendment in the Bill of Rights:

"A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed."

There seems to be a lot of infringing going on these days, just as there are far too many politicians and others who aren't all that enamored of a truly free state.

You'll notice there's nothing in that brief constitutional statement about hunting or target practice. No, the Founders had just lived through a struggle for freedom, a War of Independence, in which an armed citizenry was one of the keys to victory. They knew full well that without that rifle over every fireplace the United States would never have been born.

The Danger of Elites. Have you noticed how those who seek power these days always claim that their overriding goal is to fix things they believe to be broken? In all humility they are determined to right the wrongs that the people umknowingly inflict upon themselves. Only they can accomplish this selfless task because they are so much smarter than the rest of us. Accordingly, their ideas and their decisions should be accepted without question. Although they'll never admit it publicly, they really do not like the idea of representative government. To represent the people is such a passive act, one that puts the people in charge, and we can't have that, can we? The elites, then, those an uninformed and lazy people inflict upon themselves, feel the need to impose their order on the rest of us. And we go along with it. We the people have rejected our sovereignty and become mere enablers of those who seek power. As Lord Acton astutely remarked, "Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely." This is borne out by today's elitists who believe themselves to be like little gods possessed of the right to oppress all who resist their efforts to right the perceived wrongs of the world.

And so we end up with elitists like Mayor Michael Bloomberg of New York who doesn't trust the people to make even the most trivial decisions. He, the all-knowing all-wise super parent, tells us what we should drink and how much. He instructs mothers on how best to nurse their newborns. Nothing escapes his attention. And he doesn't simply tell us; no, he enforces his beliefs through regulation and law. We must obey because it's for our own good. And if we don't obey, we shall be punished. We see the same arrogance displayed at the national level by the administration's use of the IRS to punish those who simply do not share its statist ideology.

Ahhh. Dear Diane awakens, and it will soon be time for breakfast. Today we plan to visit a farm so our little granddaughter can enjoy the animals. Should be fun.

God and Babies

Dear Diane and I have four children, now all grown up, either past forty or pushing It. We've been blessed as well with nine grandchildren and, although all four families live in Massachusetts and we live in Florida, we manage to spend time with them fairly frequently. Of course we wish their parents would just pack up and move to one of the southern states, but that's unlikely to happen anytime soon. And so we're spending the month of May here, making the rounds, hugging and kissing and blessing and spoiling as much as possible. 

This week we're with Alana Claire, the newest of our grandchildren. Just seven weeks old, she's reached the age at which a baby comes to realize that everyone else has just one purpose: to please her. At this point Alana has limited needs, perhaps a half-dozen or so, but only one way of expressing them: she cries. And then her parents and grandparents struggle mightily trying to identify which of these needs has just taken priority over all the others. As you might expect, her mom excels at this. Eventually the need is satisfied, the crying stops, and our efforts are rewarded with coos and smiles and other expressions of contentment. And make no mistake, the reward far outweighs the inconvenience or worry or panic that preceded it. It's just one more of God's gifts to us; for He wants us to love and cherish and care for these little ones that He has loved into being. The Father wants us to be like Him, to love as He loves. He wants us to love with His perfect love. What a lesson this is for our world, a world so self-absorbed that it would destroy babies by the millions rather than suffer a moment's inconvenience.

Another of God's gifts that accompanies the arrival of a new baby is a lesson in humility. This is especially true of first-time parents. Quite suddenly this new little person becomes the centerpiece of the household, pushing all other considerations aside. The new parent -- and I believe this applies particularly to fathers -- is quickly cured of any pretence of self-importance and discovers that his family's well-being takes precedence over everything else. For the unprepared father, this revelation can be a humbling and unexpected shock. I really believe it's more shocking and more humbling today because many couples marry and have children later in life. Dear Diane had her fourth child on her thirty-first birthday, but none of our children had even their first child before the age of thirty. Times have certainly changed.

The weather here on Nantucket is a bit dreary this morning, but the professional weather-guessers promise us a sunny afternoon with temperatures in the almost tolerable mid-sixties. We have decided, therefore, to take little Alana on an outing for which I must now prepare.

God's peace...

 

A Few Brief Thoughts

I haven't posted anything for some time now, and can offer no excuse other than busyness. And for the past few weeks Dear Diane and I have been away from home visiting children and grandchildren. Our trip north has been a joy. We witnessed grandson Carlos' First Communion which took place last Sunday during the Latin Mass celebrated at his family's parish, St. Francis Xavier Church in Hyannis, Massachusetts. (Photos are forthcoming, once I transfer them from camera to iPad.) We spent most of last week catching up with Carlos, his four siblings, and their parents.

After our week on Cape Cod we took the ferry to Nantucket to visit with our newest grandchild, seven-week-old Alana Claire, and her doting parents. We will remain on this beautiful island for the rest of the week basking in the sunny aura that surrounds the lovely Alana. Alana and her father (our youngest, Brendan) can be seen below.

After leaving Nantucket we'll go on to visit our two other children and their families before returning home.

Despite the sunniness of our family's world, the rest of the world seems bent on continuing its spiral into darkness. But there have been some bright spots. I was saddened to read that Jesuit-run Boston College had selected Irish Prime Minister Edna Kenny as the 2013 commencement speaker. Kenny has been an outspoken supporter of abortion and would not, one would think, be selected to speak at a Catholic university and receive an honorary doctorate. But BC ceased being a true Catholic university some time ago. The good news is that Boston's archbishop, Cardinal Sean O'Malley, chose not to attend the commencement ceremonies because of Kenny's involvement. Kudos to Cardinal Sean. Here's a link.

Another bright spot is the conviction of Philadelphia abortionist Kermit Gosnell of three counts of first degree murder for the brutal killing of babies that survived abortions Gosnell performed. Kudos to the jury that convicted him and sentenced him to life imprisonment rather than the death penalty. Truly a pro-life jury. Here's a link. Ironically, the "doctor's" attorneys blame the media for his conviction -- the same media that virtually ignored the arrest and trial. Go figure.

Alana, her parents, and Dear Diane are calling me for breakfast, so I will, I hope, continue this soon. Blessings...and take a moment today to tell your children and grandchildren and parents how much you love them.