Yesterday the Universe was 6989 years old...maybe

Well, I missed it yesterday. Have to wait another year to celebrate.

Johannes Kepler, the 17th century mathematician and physicist who gave us a bunch of neat equations for figuring out how the planets move, also determined that the universe was created on April 27, 4977 B.C. I'm not real sure how Kepler came up with that particular date, but I suppose it's as good as any other for those who like to celebrate birthdays. It's also a cautionary note for those who think that smart people never make mistakes.

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Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter, Year B

Readings: Acts 4:8-12; Ps 118; 1 Jn 3:1-2; Jn 10:11-18

We call today, the 4th Sunday of Easter, “Good Shepherd Sunday.” It’s a day in our liturgical year when we especially celebrate God’s great love for us.

Consider again the passage we just heard from John’s Gospel. In it we hear Jesus clearly revealing who He is and how important we are to him: “I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep” [Jn 10:11].

Jesus doesn’t abandon us in the face of danger; no, He sacrifices Himself. Here Jesus fulfills the prayer of the 23rd Psalm, the prayer of His ancestor, David:  “The Lord is my shepherd. There is nothing I shall want.” [Ps 23:1]

Yes, Jesus is the Shepherd, and Jesus is Lord. He is the Good Shepherd, the shepherd who goes above and beyond what any other shepherd would do. No sane shepherd would sacrifice his life for his sheep, just as none of us would sacrifice our lives for a pet guinea pig. And yet the difference between a human and a guinea pig is miniscule compared to that between God and man.

Just consider what it means, then, for God to sacrifice His life for us. Yet that’s exactly what He did. This sacrificial act on His part has led some to ask: Is the God of the Christians insane? Is He crazy?

No…Our God is Love. He is a love, not simply beyond our capability, but beyond our understanding. In St. Paul’s words, “He emptied himself” [Phil 2:1] and became one of us to offer His life to save ours. And He did this solely out of love. Do you see the kind of God we have, this Good Shepherd who cares so much for us?

And then, to ensure we get the point of all this,  Jesus turns to us and tells us to love others as he has loved us, to be willing to give our lives for them, even for those the world tells us are beneath us. Our love for God, Jesus tells us, must be mirrored in our love for others.

Remember that wonderful scene [Jn 21] when, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the risen Jesus asks Peter three times, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Each time Peter responds, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  To the first yes, Jesus said “Feed my lambs”; to the second, “Tend my sheep”; and to the third, “Feed my sheep.”

Your love for me, Jesus is telling Peter, will be evidenced by how well you tend my sheep, my people, those for whom I sacrificed my life to save.

But Jesus didn’t stop with Peter. He turns to all of us, all of us in the Body of Christ. He doesn’t say, “love me as I have loved you.” No, instead He commands, “love one another as I have loved you” [Jn 13:34]. Like Peter, our love for God will be shown by the love we have for the members of His flock.

As we heard in our first reading, our love for others must be a manifestation of God’s love, and the good that we do must always be done in the name of Jesus Christ. For as Peter proclaimed, “There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved" [Acts 4:12]. It’s all Jesus Christ, in Jesus Christ, through Jesus Christ, and only Jesus Christ.

The meaning of this becomes clear in our second reading as St. John tells us, “See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.”

Children of God…all of us: you and me…
…the poor in need of a meal or a place to sleep
…the Alzheimer’s patient in the nursing home
…the Aids patient clinging to life
…the neighbor undergoing radiation and chemo-therapy
…the prisoner locked away in his cell
…the lonely, the depressed
…all of us, children of God, brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ.

We are not strangers…for children of the same loving Father cannot be strangers. Brothers and sisters of our Lord, Jesus Christ, cannot be strangers. And so Jesus calls us not simply to love others, but to recognize Him in them, to realize that what we do for and to each other, we do to Him: “I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ [Mt 25:40] Yes, we will be judged on our response to this calling as children of God, on this Christian vocation of ours.

Pope Benedict wrote, “As a community, the Church must practice love…The Church cannot neglect the service of charity any more than she can neglect the Sacraments and the Word.” At every level, then — and that includes the parish, the diocese, and throughout the world — the Church must practice love. This is how the Church shows who she really is.

Some years ago on a business trip I attended Mass at the local Catholic Church. (I've forgotten where it was.) Not far from the main entrance to the church I came across a statue of a hooded man begging. Like the hand of the beggar reaching out to Peter in our first reading, the statue’s hand is stretched out toward those who walk by. But if you look closely, you’ll notice that in the middle of that hand is a hole, a nail hole.

Yes, it’s a statue of Jesus, the risen Jesus who still bears the wounds of His love, the Jesus who in humbling Himself became like a slave, like a beggar. For the parishioners and all those who enter that church this statue is a constant reminder to look beyond appearances and see Jesus in all who reach out to them. And for you and me it’s a reminder that Christ has His hand stretched out to us right now.

Catching Up With the World

It's been a while since I've posted anything on the blog. My only excuse is the busyness of life and, paradoxically, the need to step away occasionally from that very busyness. I have tried to force some holes into my schedule, to liberate myself from the unimportant but loud demands that I create or allow others to force on me. Quite simply, I need some daily leisure time just to think and relax and savor this wonderful gift of life. After all, being is good!

Part of this effort includes taking a different approach to the blog. Once this blog becomes a burden, it will have defeated it's very purpose, the celebration of life. If writing a few words and sharing some thoughts with others helps me to appreciate and deepen my understanding of our being, well then, I'll post those thoughts. But I will try to resist the tendency to feel obligated to make regular posts. I will simply post them as they come.

Today, for instance, I am saddened by the recent death of Charles Colson. Known by most for his role in the Watergate scandal as one of President Nixon's "hatchet men", a role which sent him to prison, Chuck Colson's later life of repentance and service to the "least" of God's children has been largely ignored by the mainstream media.

After his release from prison Colson could have accepted any number of high-paying positions, but chose instead to found Prison Fellowship, a ministry devoted to serving the men and women locked away in our dysfunctional "corrections" systems. An Evangelical Christian, Colson was often at odds with many of the Christian right because of his rejection of political power as a means to reform the nation's moral order. Colson considered political power illusory and relied instead on the gospel mandate calling on each Christian to see Jesus Christ in others. He personified the challenge of Hebrews 13:3 -- "Be mindful of prisoners as if sharing their imprisonment, and of the ill-treated as of yourselves, for you also are in the body." Colson had indeed shared their imprisonment and was ever mindful of that fact.

In 1994 Colson, along with Fr. Richard John Newhaus and others, also formed Evangelicals and Catholics Together, an ecumenical organization of those who accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. While those involved don't ignore their differences, they focus primarily on that which unites them. Here's an excerpt from their foundational document:

"As Evangelicals and Catholics, we pray that our unity in the love of Christ will become ever more evident as a sign to the world of God’s reconciling power. Our communal and ecclesial separations are deep and long standing. We acknowledge that we do not know the schedule nor do we know the way to the greater visible unity for which we hope. We do know that existing patterns of distrustful polemic and conflict are not the way. We do know that God who has brought us into communion with himself through Christ intends that we also be in communion with one another. We do know that Christ is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14) and as we are drawn closer to him-walking in that way, obeying that truth, living that life-we are drawn closer to one another."

As you might imagine, Colson's active involvement in this organization brought him into conflict with many fundamentalist Christians who apparently believe the Catholic Church is the whore of Babylon and the pope is little more than an antichrist. But these criticisms didn't seem to bother him as he went about his ministry of helping others in Jesus' name.

I never met Chuck Colson, although years ago I owned a car -- a huge Ford station wagon -- that had once belonged to his mother. How's that for a connection?

We will miss him, a man who devoted his life to Jesus Christ and the Kingdom.

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Homily: 2nd Sunday of Easter, Year B

Readings: Acts 4:32-35; Psalm 118; 1 John 5:1-6; John 20:19-31

St. Paul wrote that between the Resurrection and the Ascension more than 500 disciples saw the risen Jesus [1 Cor 15:6]. These weren’t ghostly apparitions. He sat with them, talked with them, walked with them, touched them, ate with them, even cooked a meal for them. He came to them in the flesh. His body, glorified and not subject to earthbound limitations, is still the flesh that grew from Mary, the flesh that died on the cross, the flesh that bears the marks of His passion.

What a compliment to our humanity: the Son of God wanted the flesh He took from us to be His forever. I think we sometimes forget that. We forget that right now, today, the risen Jesus is truly alive, just as we are. His body might be glorified, but it’s still a body of flesh and blood. And just as His flesh rose from the dead and was glorified, filled with God’s life, so shall yours and mine. Jesus is the Good News in the flesh!

In today’s Gospel we learn something about Jesus, about Thomas, but also about ourselves. Do you ever doubt? Ever question your faith? Well, if you do, you’re in good company. You’re right there with the Apostles and most of the saints.

When I was a boy, my parents gave me a wonderful book on the lives of the saints, but I was surprised to read of the doubts and crises of faith experienced by many of these holy men and women. You see, at the age of 10, I still had a childlike faith. Such questions as the existence of a loving God, the Incarnation, the divinity of Jesus, His death and resurrection, eternal life, heaven and hell – well, these weren’t questions for me. They were facts, and like the words of the “Act of Faith” the good Dominican Sisters taught me, I firmly believed them.

And I still firmly believe them, but this doesn’t mean there haven’t been doubts and crises along the way. Faith is a gift, and doubt is a normal, very human reaction to it.

As Christians we actually believe that God, who created the universe, really cares about us, that God is a God of love, a love so great it’s impossible to fully comprehend it. The Good News of Jesus Christ – His death and resurrection, our redemption and forgiveness, the promise of eternal life – is so good, so remarkable, that sometimes it seems almost too good to be true. And because it’s such good news, we often doubt.

Thomas, too, struggled with this. Poor Thomas. Because of this one incident, he’ll always be known as doubting Thomas. And yet, he wasn’t alone in this. When Mary Magdalene and the other women told the apostles what they had seen and heard at the empty tomb, the men thought “their story seemed like nonsense and they did not believe them” [Lk 24:11].
But many of the apostles doubted even after seeing Jesus. Indeed, there’s one very telling verse in Scripture. It’s at the very end of Matthew’s Gospel and describes the risen Jesus’ last moments with the apostles before he ascends to the Father.

Matthew tells us that the now-11 apostles went to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them. And then we read, “When they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted” [Mt 28:17]. Yes, they still doubted, even after weeks of encounters with the risen Christ. Yes, it would seem Thomas gets a bum rap, since the other Apostles had reacted no differently.

We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t present when Jesus first appeared in the upper room…but it really doesn’t matter. For whatever reason, he wasn’t there. Earlier, before his absence, this little group was in hiding, filled with doubts and fears. But when Thomas returned…well, you can imagine how excited they must have been. “We have seen the Lord” [Jn 20:25], they tell him.

Poor Thomas. We know what he said, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” [Jn 20:25]. But what was he really thinking?

On Friday Diane and I went to Mt. Dora for lunch and afterwards browsed in a few of the shops. In one I noticed a small sign that read: “Jesus loves you, but I’m His favorite.”

Maybe this is what Thomas heard in the enthusiasm of the other apostles: “Yes, Thomas, Jesus loves you too, but we’re His favorites.” A bit jealous? Maybe a little fearful? Was he thinking, “If Jesus did come, why did He come when I wasn’t here? What could this mean?”

Just a few days earlier, when Jesus decided to return to Judea and ultimately to Jerusalem even though so many were plotting against Him, it was Thomas who, full of bravado, had said, “Let us also go, that we may die with him” [Jn 11:16]. Of course, the reality had been quite different. Thomas, like the others, had abandoned Jesus. Was Thomas thinking of this?

Whatever his thoughts, it would be another week before he would see the risen Jesus for himself. It must have been a rough week. The others, their spirits rejuvenated by their encounter with Jesus, were probably telling him, “Don’t worry, Thomas. He’ll be back. You’ll see.” And Thomas, not knowing what to believe, no doubt found himself contending with both serious doubts and wondrous possibilities. But when Jesus appears the second time, Thomas moves instantly from doubt to genuine faith.

You might say, “So what. He had his proof didn’t he?” Well, yes, he did, but proof only in the resurrection of Jesus. Thomas didn’t exclaim, “My risen Lord,” when he saw Jesus. No, Thomas’ faith takes him well beyond that and he says, “My Lord and my God” [Jn 20:28].

Jesus had been called many things -- Lord, master, rabbi, teacher, prophet, Son of Man, Son of God – but only Thomas, Thomas moved by the Holy Spirit, makes this ultimate declaration of faith in Jesus Christ. This is the Spirit’s gift to Thomas and Thomas’ gift to us. And this is why John includes this incident: so we come to believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ. This grace to believe, a grace never forced on us – like Thomas, we can accept or reject it with complete freedom.

How does this touch us today, we who have not seen and yet believe? You and I haven’t seen the risen Christ, but he is present with us. Jesus is here today in His Holy Word. He’s here today where two or three are gathered in His Name.  And in a most unique and special way, He’s here in the Eucharist, just as real as He was in the upper room.

The trouble is, we can’t see Him the way Thomas did. And this can test our faith. And there are times in all of our lives – fearful, terrifying, lonely times – when we especially feel His absence. When Jesus seems to have brushed the dust of our lives off His feet. Little wonder He calls us blessed. We don’t see, we suffer, and yet we still believe. We can still drop to our knees and utter with Thomas, “My Lord and my God.”

But is our faith enough? Jesus tells us our love for others will be a visible sign that He’s among us – that this is how the world will recognize Him. If the world, then, doesn’t recognize Christ, it must be because the world doesn’t see Him in the lives of those who claim to believe in Him.

It would seem we have our work cut out for us. Fortunately, it’s a work Jesus shares. And that’s where our hope must always rest, not in ourselves, but in Jesus Christ  – in Him who died for us, who rose for us, who lives for us, and who promised to be with us forever.

Because we believe in the Jesus Christ we have never seen, we may, with the help of God’s grace, learn to love and serve the Jesus we see each day. And do you know what? He’s sitting right beside you.

The Kennedy Commencment Brouhaha

Victoria & Ted Kennedy

Okay, I'll admit that, even though I spent a good hunk of my adult life in Massachusetts, I've never been a fan of the Kennedys. And I've certainly never voted for one. Ted Kennedy in particular always seemed to disappoint me. In 1971 he wrote, “Wanted or unwanted, I believe that human life, even at its earliest stages, has certain rights which must be recognized - the right to be born, the right to love, the right to grow old.” But then, as liberal Massachusetts voters increasingly embraced the opposite position, the Senator did a complete about face and became the darling of the "pro-choice" crowd and the radical feminists.

Senator Kennedy's personal conflict with established Church teaching wasn't restricted to abortion, but also included such issues as homosexual marriage and contraception. Scandalously, as he flaunted his hostility to the magisterial teachings of the Catholic Church, he publicly claimed to be a believing, practicing Catholic. How many did he lead astray? As one woman complained to me after a Mass at which I had preached a pro-life homily, "I agree with Senator Kennedy. The girls should have a choice." How nice that she takes her moral direction from a politician rather than the Church.

I mention this because of the dis-inviting of Senator Kennedy's widow, Victoria, who had been scheduled to deliver the commencement address at Anna Maria College, a small Catholic college in Paxton, Massachusetts. It seems that after the college invited her to speak and receive an honorary degree, the local bishop, Bishop Robert J. McManus of Worcester, urged the college not to honor Mrs. Kennedy, telling the college administration that she was not a good choice because of her public support for both abortion and homosexual marriage.

According to a diocesan spokesman, “Bishop McManus feels that, consistent with what the U.S. bishops have been saying since 2004 as a group, Catholic institutions should be honoring Catholics who are taking at least public positions that are consistent with the teachings of the Church.”

Three cheers for Bishop McManus, who is merely, but courageously, reiterating the U. S. Bishops' 2004 statement that Catholic institutions “should not honor those who act in defiance of our fundamental moral principles” since such honors would obviously “suggest support for their actions.” Mrs. Kennedy would certainly fall into this category since she has written op-ed pieces in defense of the right to an abortion and has also spoken publicly in support of homosexual marriage.


The college's administration, in rescinding its invitation, seemed less concerned about Mrs. Kennedy's rejection of Church teaching than about the bad publicity that might arise if it ignored their bishop's request. They were worried that any "conflict with the bishop" might "create negative publicity and a difficult situation” for the college, as well as for Mrs. Kennedy. In their statement, the college said, “As a small, Catholic college that relies heavily on the good will of its relationship with the Bishop and the larger Catholic community, its options are limited...While the (Board of Trustees) believes that this is the necessary decision, it will continue to advocate for increased opportunities to practice its Catholic values of hospitality, compassion, reconciliation, respect for all people and understanding."

And so another Catholic college loses its way...I suppose I should be pleased that did what they did, and actually listened to their bishop.

If you'd like to read  the Washington Post's remarkably one-sided coverage of this story, click here.

Pray for our bishops, for our Catholic educational institutions, and for our Catholic politicians, that they will always place God's will first.

Homily: Easter Sunday, Year B

Readings: Acts 10:34a, 37-43; Ps 118; Col 3:1-4; Jn 20:1-9

Today we come face-to-face with the Risen Christ, the very source of our faith and hope, for the Resurrection is the fuel for that Christian optimism that keeps us going even during the darkest moments of our lives.

When we consider again our Gospel passage from John, we note that the Resurrection is revealed first to Mary Magdalene. Why is Mary going to the tomb? Because Jesus died on the very eve of the Sabbath, prohibiting her from anointing His body immediately after His death. And so she returns at dawn on Sunday prepared to do her duty to the Master, the One she loved.

Like the Apostles, and like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, Mary didn’t expect the Resurrection. Jesus, in Whom his disciples had all placed their hopes, had not only died, but died the ignominious death of a common criminal.

And yet, in a display of courage sorely lacking among the Apostles, it was the women who had been there, at the very foot of the Cross, joined only by the young John. Yes, Mary Magdalene knew He had died. She had heard Him take His last breath. She had seen the soldier's lance pierce His heart. She had grieved with our Blessed Mother as she cradled her Son's lifeless body in her arms. And she had seen that body placed hurriedly in the tomb.

Oh, yes, Mary Magdalene knew Jesus had died. And in her overwhelming grief, the grief of emptiness, a grief tinged with an underlying fear, she made her way that Sunday morning to the tomb of a dead man.

She wasn’t thinking of resurrection as she walked along the path. Indeed, none of Jesus’ disciples understood Him when He spoke of His Resurrection, and Mary was no different. Faced with the finality of death, her faith and her hope had all but disappeared. All that is left is her love. It is this love for Jesus that carries her along the path to the tomb on that morning we celebrate today.

But when she arrives, she finds that the huge stone no longer blocks the entrance. It has been rolled away. She confronts an empty tomb.

Both Mark and Matthew tell us that Mary was accompanied in that predawn darkness by other disciples, all of them women. None of them know what to make of it, but their hearts are bursting with a jumble of emotions: confusion, astonishment, fear.

Then, in the tomb, a young man appears and tells them not to be amazed, for the One they seek, the One Who was crucified, the One Who had died before their very eyes, is risen. In the shock of this sudden revelation, they realize that death has not had the last word, but that the Word has overcome death. Faith and hope explode into their hearts. Like St. Paul in today’s second reading, the meaning of this glorious event becomes crystal clear. They too will be united with Him in the Resurrection.

And just as suddenly, all of His teachings, every word He uttered, takes on new meaning. Now they know what He meant by the Kingdom of God, for it is in their very midst, catapulted into the here and now by the Resurrection.

Matthew, describing this same event, tells us that the women left the tomb "fearful yet overjoyed."  Fear and joy -- a rare combination of emotions that I suspect exists only in the presence of God.

Oh, yes, they were fearful, for they had just witnessed God's awesome power. For the first time they truly understand Who Jesus is. He is the Messiah. He is the Redeemer. He is the Chosen One. He is the Son of God.

But this same understanding, and all that it brings with it, also makes them joyful. He is risen! And so too have all of His promises, that suddenly make such perfect sense. Indeed, they are overjoyed.

Overjoyed that their trust in Jesus had not been misplaced.

Overjoyed that they, like all of us, are the object of God's overwhelming love.

Overjoyed because pessimism has turned to optimism, despair has turned to hope -- and that tiny kernel of faith, almost lost during the dark hours after the crucifixion, has blossomed into a sure knowledge of redemption.

Perhaps Mary Magdalene understood this best. In Mark’s Gospel we read that Jesus appeared first to Mary Magdalene. This had always puzzled me. Why had our Risen Lord appeared first to Mary? But then one day my eldest daughter explained it to me.

Mary Magdalene, she explained, had once been dead in the slavery of her sin, sealed in a tomb of her own making. And she had been given new life through the healing power of God's love and forgiveness. Jesus knew that she, who had experienced this power in her own spiritual resurrection, would believe. Mary, who had been enslaved by sin, had been set free by God’s forgiving love. Who better to break the news, the Good News, to a sinful world?

Mary Magdalene is living proof of the power of God's redeeming love. She is the fruit of Christ's Resurrection. And she is just like each one of us. She is what every woman and every man is called to be. Mary is the sinner who became a saint.

You see, brothers and sisters, our God is not a God for just some. He is the God for every one of us. He is with us through it all, just as He was with Christ through it all: Life…Death… Resurrection.

And so today, as we kneel in adoration before Our Lord in the Eucharist, let us lift our hearts and minds in thanksgiving and celebrate Christ's victory over death and sin, a victory that resounds throughout the universe.

St. John Chrysostom, the great preacher, said it best:

Poor death, where is your sting?
Poor hell, where is your triumph?
Christ steps out of the tomb and you are reduced to nothing.
Christ rises and the angels are wild with delight.
Christ rises and the graves are emptied of the dead.
Oh, yes, for He broke from the tomb like a flower, a beautiful fruit: the first fruit of those already gone.
All glory and power be His, through every age…forever and ever. Amen.

Homily: Wednesday of Holy Week

Readings Is 50:4-9a; Ps 69; Mt 26:14-25

Have you ever been betrayed? Betrayal’s a horrible, destructive thing, isn’t it? It hits at the very core of our humanity, and jeopardizes those essential relationships based on trust and love.

And yet look how Jesus handled betrayal. Even though He was fully aware of Judas’ plans, He invited His betrayer to recline and dine with Him. And He questions Judas as if He were trying to force him to admit what he planned. Would this lead Judas to confront his sin and be repelled by its inherent evil? We simply don’t know. And neither do we know why Judas betrayed Jesus. Was it greed, impatience, disillusionment, even hatred? We don’t know for certain. But whatever the reason, it all boiled down to Judas being unable to accept Jesus as He is.

Notice how Judas responded to Jesus. He called Him, “Rabbi,” while the apostles, each in turn, called Jesus, “Lord.” What a difference! Sin is so much easier when we distort and limit our understanding of who Jesus is. This is our great temptation as Christians: to create a Jesus in our own image.

It’s easy to do. Just look in the mirror and say, “Hi, Jesus!” And then, whatever I do or say, well…that’s not me. That’s Jesus talking, that’s God talking. It sure makes things easier when we need only look to ourselves for all the answers.

In Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, one of the brothers, Ivan, is visited by Satan who persuades him that with the death of God “everything is permitted.” The devil isn’t suggesting here that the world will slide into the chaos of anarchy – not at all – for the world can be very “civilized” while still believing in nothing.

No Satan means that once we eliminate God from our lives, from our society, from our civilization, then nothing is absolute, nothing is always wrong. Once we remove God from the picture, we fall prey to what Pope Benedict calls “the dictatorship of relativism” under which the clear distinctions between what is morally right and wrong dissolve into a kind of amoral putty that we can form into whatever shape we like.

Yes, once we believe that God is no longer in charge…well, someone has to take control. And that’s when men try to usurp God’s responsibilities for defining the moral order. Once we do that, we need only reshape the putty, forming acceptable reasons to do and to believe absolutely anything.

This, I suspect, was Judas’ sin. He wanted Jesus to change; he wanted God, the unchangeable One, to reshape Himself to become just like Judas. But, of course, Jesus isn’t about to change, for His entire mission is the fulfillment of the Father’s will, the Father’s plan.

Like Satan, Judas saw Jesus’ ministry as a failure, and decided that he would have to take charge. But poor Judas, and those among us today who are like him, have it all backwards; for it’s not God who must change; it’s we who must let ourselves be changed by Him.

As we enter this holiest time of our liturgical year, let’s make that our prayer, to allow ourselves to be changed by God’s love, by the Good News of His Son’s redemptive act. For when we abandon ourselves to God’s holy will, He will send His Spirit to lead us and guide us, to deliver us from evil, the evil of betrayal that we call sin.

Homily: Passion (Palm) Sunday

On Palm Sunday we read the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ from Mark's Gospel, and began our celebration of Holy Week during which we will witness once again the Passion, Death and Resurrection, the ultimate sign of God's love for us, His people. My relatively brief Palm Sunday homily follows:

________________________

Readings: Jn 12:12-16; Is 50:4-7; Ps 22; Phil 2:6-11; Mk 14:1-15:47

What can one say after listening to the Passion narrative? What we’ve heard is clear, precise, even dramatic in its impact – almost too much to take in at once.

And so over this Holy Week we’ll consider and celebrate, part by part, day by day, the Last Supper, the arrest, the death and the burial of Jesus, and his glorious Resurrection from the dead.

But today we encounter the unsettling contrast between our two Gospel readings.

As Christians we welcome Christ. We hold our palm branches, and shout, "Hosanna!" 2000 years ago they welcomed Him too. But did they know him? Who did they think He was? Another David? Another Moses? Would He make Israel great again?

Yes, they welcomed Him…until they saw that He was someone other than the Messiah they sought. They saw, instead, a man who’d be summarily executed like a slave or petty criminal, a man of no consequence. And so the disillusionment, the resentment, the anger set in. Oh, yes, they wanted a savior, their kind of savior.

But are you and I much different? We too pick up palm branches of welcome, but like the people of Jerusalem, we expect God to meet our terms and conditions. So often we demand that God rearrange the world and its people to conform to our plans, our timetables, our politics, to remove any burdens we may be asked to carry. And if our terms and conditions aren’t met…well, we too can put down the palms and reach for the cross -- not to shoulder it ourselves, but to force it once again on Jesus. Yes, we too want to create a Savior in our image.

Jesus didn't suffer and die on the cross for this. He did it out of love, love for each one of us – not a generic but an individual love.

Look at the hands of the crucified and glorified Jesus. Do you know what you’ll see? You’ll see your name written on His palms, right next to the nail holes of crucifixion.

As Jesus died on the cross, He pictured your face. Your name was on His lips. He died for you, knowing everything about you. He died because of your sins and consciously for love of you.

When we finally come to accept that we are loved individually with a perfect, infinite, and divine love – a crucified love – our lives must change. We must throw our palms and ourselves at Jesus’ feet in worship.

Only then, when we finally realize the depth of this love, can we undergo the conversion, the change of heart, that Jesus seeks in each of us.

"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" Every time we participate in the Eucharist, we repeat these same words. We call Him, and He comes. Jesus comes into His Church under the miraculous appearance of a little bread and wine, and so prepares us for his ultimate coming in unequalled glory!

Never forget this! Honoring Him as the King of Glory, you and I can let Him rule our hearts and minds, our lives and our homes.

Living in His love, we too must live, suffer, and die for Him who is Love, “so that at Jesus’ name every knee must bend in the heavens, on the earth, and under the earth, and every tongue proclaim to the glory of God the Father: JESUS CHRIST IS LORD!”

Grandchildren, et al.

I haven't posted much lately, but I have an excuse. We've had visitors...special visitors.

Dear Diane and I had two wonderful weeks to enjoy our elder daughter, Erin, and five of our grandchildren who came here to Florida for a visit. Our son-in-law was unable to make the trip because of work so he was absent from the picture we had made during his family's stay with us. I suppose I could "photo-shop" him into the picture, but that might be beyond my limited capabilities. He'll just have to wait until the next family photo-op. Here's the photo of Mama and her five little ones...

At the same time we were also blessed by a visit of our younger son and his bride of six months who spent several days with us on their way to a vacation ever father south in the Florida Keys. Because every square inch of our modest home had been claimed by the grandchildren, son and daughter-in-law stayed at a nearby hotel and spent their days with us.

On one of our excursions we spent the day at the Homosassa State Park in Homosassa Springs, Florida so we could see the manatees and other critters and birds native to our state. We all had a great time and enjoyed a nice lunch of seafood at a nearby waterfront restaurant. That's where the below photo of our son, Brendan, and his wife, Amari, was taken.

The good news about retiring in Florida is that our children and grandchildren like to visit, especially when the northern weather is cold. The bad news? They don't do it often enough.

We miss them all.

Homily: Wednesday, 4th Week of Lent

Readings: Is 49:8-15; Ps 145; Jn 5:17-30

As the time of His passion and death approach, Jesus once more patiently tells His disciples, His critics, and us that He does all through God the Father, not through His humanity.

We can never fully understand Jesus’ relationship with the Father because it’s unlike any human relationship, even the most idealized. In our imperfect state we’re simply unable to grasp perfection.

But from this Divine Father-Son relationship comes a love so great that it extends to us all. Our Father loves us so much that He sent His beloved Son to take on our humanity, to offer Himself as a living sacrifice to redeem us from our own sinfulness. And the Son loves us and His Father so much that He does this willingly. He takes on all our sins, all our indignities, throughout all time. What kind of love is that? We sin, we fail, and He who made us pays the price.

And so today we encounter Jesus, fully aware of His approaching suffering and death, and yet loving even those who will condemn Him. He continues to explain the truth to those who reject it. He continues to hold out hope to all of us that the day of resurrection is coming. You see, brothers and sisters, Jesus isn’t just foretelling His resurrection, but ours as well. He tells us plainly that “the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who hear will live.” And He invites us to trust in the perfection of His relationship with His Father, and to join in that same relationship, at least to the extent allowed by our limited human capacity.

We’re really not all that different from those who were blind to the loving divine relationship. The Pharisees and others, driven by fear and jealousy, rejected Him and the Good News, accusing Jesus of blasphemy. They never looked inward, did they? They never asked, “What do I bring to others?” Indeed, what do you and I bring to others?

Do we really hear and accept the Good News Jesus offers us? Or do we only pretend to hear, remaining closed to the Word of God because sharing it demands that we have a changed heart? Ask Christ to touch your heart and bring you the gift of openness to His Word.

Never doubt God’s love, but recall the words we heard from Isaiah – “I will never forget you" – words intended to strike the heart, words that we all long to hear from those who love us.

And so today, let’s all just keep this simple truth in the forefront of our thoughts: God will never forget me.

I will go to Calvary in my prayer and pray:  "God will never forget me."

I will go to the Empty Tomb in my prayer and pray:  "God will never forget me."

I will bring my brokenness and worries, my problems and joys to God and pray: "God will never forget me."

And then, filled with God’s love, let me then ask, “Who is God asking me never to forget?"

Surgery Postponed

Well...it seems I wasn't supposed to have my minor outpatient surgery after all, at least not today. For a whole slew of odd reasons that my doctor's office decided were relevant, the surgery's been postponed until July.

Thanks for the prayers anyway.

Blessings...

Outpatient Surgery Today

In a few minutes I undergo some minor outpatient surgery. It's something I'd rather avoid, but my doctor thinks it should be done.

So I ask for a little prayer that all goes well. Thanks and God's peace.

Deacon Dana


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Culture of Death

Did you hear about the Oregon couple who sued their healthcare provider because their daughter was born with Down Syndrome? That's right, it seems the parents of little four-year-old Kalanit Levy are very upset because Legacy Health of Portland failed to identify the girl's condition prenatally and want to be compensated for this "wrongful birth." Had they known of their daughter's condition before she was born, Ariel and Deborah Levy stated they would have aborted her. Kalanit will require all kinds of extra care that her parents are apparently unprepared or unwilling to provide, so they wanted $14 million from Legacy Health. Read more here.

Yesterday a jury apparently agreed that the "parents" should be compensated and awarded them $2.9 million based on the estimated lifetime costs of their child's care. Attorneys who deal with these cases agree that to win a wrongful birth lawsuit "parents must argue that they would have terminated the pregnancy had they been fully informed." And so this Oregon jury in effect decided this one little girl should not have been born. Hers was a life not worth living. And the Levys have been paid off...for what? For not aborting Kalanit because they would have had they only known? Are they then rewarded for doing what thousands, probably millions, of parents do every day: give birth to and take care of their disabled children, not because they have to but because they love them?

The political left seems to be particularly bothered by these disabled children because they represent an overt rejection of abortion, and these days everything is about abortion. Abortion is the political left's cause célèbre against which all else is measured. And so anyone who knowingly gives birth to a disabled child -- e.g., one with Down Syndrome -- better be prepared to be denounced. Back in 2008 when Sarah Palin was added to the Republican ticket, Carol Fowler, the chair of the South Carolina democratic party stated that the Alaska governor's “primary qualification seems to be that she hasn’t had an abortion”; in other words, she hadn't aborted her Down Syndrome son, Trig. Then, on Trig Palin's birthday in 2011, Jack Stuef of the popular leftist blog Wonkette not only attacked Sarah Palin but also three-year-old Trig:

"Today is the day we come together to celebrate the snowbilly grifter's magical journey from Texas to Alaska to deliver to America the great gentleman scholar Trig Palin...What's he dreaming about? Nothing. He's retarded."

It would seem the left's mandate to adhere always to political correctness does not apply to them, and certainly not when abortion is involved.

According to lawyers.com courts have found it difficult to seat juries in these wrongful birth cases because they have to immediately disqualify those with strong pro-life views and there are just so many of us. I find it particularly disturbing that my support for life would disqualify me as too biased when the person who wrote the above comments on Wonkette would be completely acceptable.

Read again  the words of Pope Paul VI in his monumental encyclical, Humanae Vitae (1968), in which he warns of the consequences of the contraceptive mentality:

17. Responsible men can become more deeply convinced of the truth of the doctrine laid down by the Church on this issue if they reflect on the consequences of methods and plans for artificial birth control. Let them first consider how easily this course of action could open wide the way for marital infidelity and a general lowering of moral standards. Not much experience is needed to be fully aware of human weakness and to understand that human beings—and especially the young, who are so exposed to temptation—need incentives to keep the moral law, and it is an evil thing to make it easy for them to break that law. Another effect that gives cause for alarm is that a man who grows accustomed to the use of contraceptive methods may forget the reverence due to a woman, and, disregarding her physical and emotional equilibrium, reduce her to being a mere instrument for the satisfaction of his own desires, no longer considering her as his partner whom he should surround with care and affection.

Finally, careful consideration should be given to the danger of this power passing into the hands of those public authorities who care little for the precepts of the moral law. Who will blame a government which in its attempt to resolve the problems affecting an entire country resorts to the same measures as are regarded as lawful by married people in the solution of a particular family difficulty? Who will prevent public authorities from favoring those contraceptive methods which they consider more effective? Should they regard this as necessary, they may even impose their use on everyone. It could well happen, therefore, that when people, either individually or in family or social life, experience the inherent difficulties of the divine law and are determined to avoid them, they may give into the hands of public authorities the power to intervene in the most personal and intimate responsibility of husband and wife.

Consequently, unless we are willing that the responsibility of procreating life should be left to the arbitrary decision of men, we must accept that there are certain limits, beyond which it is wrong to go, to the power of man over his own body and its natural functions—limits, let it be said, which no one, whether as a private individual or as a public authority, can lawfully exceed. These limits are expressly imposed because of the reverence due to the whole human organism and its natural functions, in the light of the principles We stated earlier, and in accordance with a correct understanding of the "principle of totality" enunciated by Our predecessor Pope Pius XII.

I'm afraid we, as a people, have allowed this power over life itself to pass "into the hands of those public authorities who care little for the precepts of the moral law."

Let us pray for life every day:

Heavenly Father, your cosmic gaze focused on dust and you fashioned in your image and likeness every man and women: give us, we beg you, a keen eye to recognize that image so that respect for all human life becomes our way of life. Grant this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

iPad Apps Galore

The other day, a parishioner, apparently after seeing me praying the Liturgy of the Hours using my iPad, asked me if there were many other useful apps for Catholics. He had just purchased his own iPad and didn't know what was available. I was in a bit of a hurry at the time, but I did mentioned a few of my favorites to him, and then promised to address the subject soon on my blog...hence this post.

As a bit of a techno-dweeb, I have to admit, I find some the new technology not only easy and fun to use but also remarkably useful. I've had one or another version of the iPhone for several years now and have owned an iPad 2 since that version was first released by Apple. Both get frequent use and I now rely on them for many of the tasks that fill my days.

The iPhone is a terrific phone, but for me a bit too small for web browsing, watching movies, reading eBooks, or anything but the simplest kind of data entry. It's handy when you need to search the web on the fly for a specific piece of information, make a brief note, find a nearby restaurant or the lowest gas prices, or check a specific Bible verse. I also use its GPS functionality on occasion. This was especially handy on our last trip to Europe and helped us considerably as we roamed the streets of large cities and tiny villages. It's always nice to know where you are. But since acquiring an iPad, I seem to use the iPhone more for phone calls and less for everything else.

A lot of folks complain about the iPad's on-screen keyboard, but I've had no problem with it. Even with my large fingers, I'm able to type rather quickly without too many errors. Indeed, I'm writing this post using an iPad application called, BlogPress. This particular app makes it easy for me to write and post to my blog wherever I happen to be, as long as I have a WiFi connection. (I was too cheap to buy the 3g version of the iPad that requires another expensive AT&T data plan.) The BlogPress app, though, was very reasonable and cost only $2.99.

Note: You will find all these apps at the App Store on your iPad. Just search for the name of the app and then purchase and install it.

Another app I use often is Apple's mobile device word processor called Pages. For $10 It provides me with a reasonably functional word processor that lets me create a document when I'm away from home, convert it in MS Word format, and email it to myself so I can edit it, print it, whatever...on my home PC. I find it especially useful for writing homilies when I'm not at home.

I've never counted the number of apps I've downloaded to my iPad, but there are a lot, probably a couple of hundred. Most were free downloads that sounded good at the time, but I've rarely if ever used. I need to delete the majority of these and free up some of my 32 GB of memory. But many of the apps on my iPad I use almost daily and these are the ones I will share with you. Most are "Catholic" apps.

iBreviary Pro Terra Sancta HD. This is a free app, that includes the Liturgy of the Hours. Using it I can pray the Church's daily prayer on my iPad without having to take my breviary with me wherever I go. Another blessing: no searching for the correct pages. If I'm leaving on a trip I can download each day's prayers in advance and not worry about finding a free WiFi hotspot while away from home.

VerseWise Bible RSV-CE. This is the Revised Standard Version - Catholic Edition of the Bible, the same version as the popular Ignatius Bible (1st Ed). It costs only $7.99. The app includes a search capability and allows those of us with tired, older eyes to adjust the font style and size to meet our needs. You can bookmark your current page and highlight text. The app also remembers the last 100 verses you visited so you can return to them easily.

Catholic New American Bible Revised Edition. For those of you who actually like the NAB, it too is available as an iPad app for only $2.99. The app includes many of the same features as the RSV app above, but to me seems is a little less user friendly.

iPieta. This is one of those Catholic catch-all apps. It includes a Catholic Bible, dozens (hundreds?) of spiritual books and Church documents, prayers, novenas, hymns (many audio files included), Mass readings, a liturgical calendar, and lots more.

Catholic TV and Radio. This free app lets you watch Catholic TV shows from a variety of sources, including EWTN, and listen to Catholic radio programs. Another Catholic radio app you might want to check out is Ave Maria Radio.

Catholic Mass Times, published by TheCatholicDirectory.com. If you travel a lot and have trouble finding a Catholic church so you can attend Mass, this free app is for you. It locates the churches nearest to your current location, or you can search by address or zip code. It then displays Mass times, although on occasion I have encountered errors, probably because the parish didn't update the information on the website. And for shut-ins, it includes videos of Masses celebrated on Catholic TV.

The Boston Pilot. Of all the Catholic newspaper apps, I believe this to be the best. It's free and offers excellent local, national and international coverage of news of interest to Catholics.

3-Minute Retreat -- Enhanced. I really enjoy this free app, published by Loyola Press, and usually begin my day with it, right before I pray Morning Prayer. It might not be for everyone, but it helps me to start my day better than I would without it.

Kindle and Nook. With my iPad I can use the free apps offered by Amazon (Kindle) and Barnes and Nobel (Nook) and download and read hundreds of eBooks. Being a true reactionary, I enjoy the classics and other time-tested works that are often available online for no cost. I have well over 100 Kindle eBooks stored on my iPad and with only a few exceptions they were all downloaded for free.

OpenStates. For those of you who like to keep informed on your state government and elected state representatives, this is a terrific free app. Based on your location, it will identify your state representative and senator. You can then see how they've voted on specific legislation, check out current bills before the legislature, and much more.

MyCongress provides some of the same information as the OpenStates app, but for the U. S. Congress.

I think that's enough for now. If I came across some other good apps, I'll pass them along and hope you will do the same.

Blessings...

Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Homily: Year B, 4th Sunday of Lent

Readings: 2 Chr 36:14-16, 19-23; Ps 137; Eph 2:4-10; Jn 3:14-21

Well, here we are, smack dab in the middle of Lent, and we find the Church reminding us to be joyful; for this weekend we celebrate Laetare Sunday with its theme of hope and joy in anticipation of Easter. It’s a theme that threads its way through all of the readings we just heard, a theme reminding us that despite the darkness we so often encounter, despite all the sorrows and challenges of life, as Christians we have good reason to be joyful.

Lent, you see, is a time of hope and joy because it is also a time of forgiveness. This is the message of our readings: that no matter our sinfulness, when we turn to God in repentance, He forgives. We see this clearly manifested in our first reading from Chronicles.

God’s chosen people, driven from their homes like cattle, exiled to pagan Babylon for their sins, live in the darkness of despair. As we just heard in our Responsorial Psalm, by the streams of Babylon they sat and wept when they remembered Zion…and so they repented. And God forgave. But he punctuated His forgiveness in a way they could never have anticipated. He has Cyrus, King of Persia, free them from their bondage and allow them to return to Jerusalem. The pagan Cyrus even sends them off with a blessing from the Lord, the one true God.

By the Waters of Babylon

Here we see not only God’s forgiveness, but also a demonstration of His love, a mere foretaste of the love He will offer on the Cross, a love far beyond anything we could ever imagine. It’s this love that Jesus shares with Nicodemus as the two of them meet in darkness.

Have you ever had a conversation with someone who was a lot smarter than you? I have a dear friend who’s a small-particle physicist. Years ago we shared an office when we both taught at the Naval Academy. I was always interested in what he was working on, and so I once asked him about a paper he had just presented at a conference.  For the next 20 minutes I listened to what I am sure he believed was a very basic outline of his work. Oh, I caught the general gist of what he was telling me, but most of it was way over my head. So I just smiled and occasionally nodded.

I suspect that Nicodemus felt a bit like that as he listened to Jesus, and heard so much that he didn't understand.

He came to Jesus looking for answers, answers about who Jesus was, as well as answers to humanity’s greatest questions. Nicodemus was an important man, “a ruler of the Jews”, John tells us, and so he approached Jesus only at night to avoid being seen. This ruler and teacher of Israel, this esteemed member of the Sanhedrin, is courageous enough to go to Jesus, but too fearful to approach the Light of the World except under the cover of darkness.

But at least he goes to Jesus, doesn’t he? And he listens. He listens to the words of the Word of God and hears a summation of all our hopes and joys:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” [Jn 3:16-17]

Unlike His teaching to the crowds, Jesus doesn’t speak in parables to Nicodemus. Indeed, He calls on the Torah, the Law, and refers to the scene in the Book of Numbers in which Moses, obeying God’s command, ties a bronze serpent to a pole and lifts it up for the people to see. Looking on it, the people are healed from the bites of the poisonous snakes that plagued them.

In the same way, Jesus tells Nicodemus, the world will be healed of its sinfulness when it looks on the Son of Man lifted high. But Nicodemus doesn't yet realize that Jesus is talking about the Cross. In time he will understand the full meaning of Jesus’ words, just not yet.

This lifting up of the Cross, brothers and sisters, becomes our task, if we’re courageous enough to do it. We must lift Jesus up on the Cross, lift Him up and show this sign of God's healing love to the world. This is why we make the Sign of the Cross. This is why we have a crucifix raised high above the sanctuary. Yes, God so loved the world…

Good and evil, hope and despair, sin and forgiveness, light and darkness – Jesus teaches and Nicodemus gets a lesson he will never forget, even if he does not yet understand its full meaning. For as Jesus teaches this teacher of Israel, He clearly defines and separates darkness from light, the darkness of sin from the Light of the World.

How did John put it? “…the light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil.” [Jn 3:19] It is this Light, and this Light alone, that illuminates the path, our path, the way to eternal life.

Later in John’s Gospel, Jesus speaks to the apostles at the Last Supper, with these words: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” [Jn 14:6] Jesus calls us to follow the way, to step out of the darkness and into His Light.

Only those ashamed of their lives choose to live in darkness. Jesus calls us to let go of all that shames us, to set aside our fears, and to accept His forgiveness. God sees and knows all of our shame, brothers and sisters – our stupidity, our pettiness, our spiritual malignity – and He takes it all on Himself. He bears the full weight of our sins as He hangs from that Cross, and does so out of a love that is beyond our comprehension.

In that love He calls us to repentance, just as He called the Chosen People who in exile wept and remembered. In our brokenness we are like the exiles in Babylon, separated from all that they truly loved. And it was in forgiveness that they received the gift of return, a return to the Holy City, a return to the presence of God in their lives.

In the same way He offers us a gift of return to discipleship, a return to God’s grace, where we can once again be right with God and His Church. He came not to condemn us but to save us, to forgive us. In reconciliation He offers us the gift of sacramental forgiveness, our first step on that path to return, to lifelong conversion. And like the exiles returning from Babylon, our journey should be a journey to freedom. This is the journey we are called to undertake during the holy season of Lent.

After his 40 days in the desert, Jesus begins His public ministry with the words, “Repent and believe in the Gospel” [Mk 1:15] -- for our journey is always a journey of repentance, a journey from a self-generated place of exile. And it’s never easy, for the path is littered with fears and doubts and temptations. One thing we learn is we can’t do it alone. We’re simply not courageous and fearless and faithful enough, and our crosses are just too heavy to bear. We need God to lift that burden from our shoulders and shower us with the gifts of the Spirit.

As we journey from slavery to freedom, the wounds we pick up along the way remind us that the risen Jesus held out His wounded hands to Thomas as proof of His own journey of love, a journey that transformed the world forever. It is the risen Christ whom the Father raised up from the tomb, the risen Christ who gives us hope.

Is there any better reason to be joyful today?

Homily: Year B, 2nd Sunday of Lent

Readings: Gn 22:1-2,9-13,15-18;Ps 116; Rom 8:31-34; Mk 9:2-10

Not long ago I thought my wife’s hearing might not be what it used to be, so I decided to conduct a little test. I stood some distance behind her and said softly, “Diane, can you hear me.” Getting no answer, I moved closer and again asked, “Diane, can you hear me?” Again having received no answer, I moved right up behind her and said softly, “Diane, can you hear me?” And that’s when I finally heard her say, “For the third time, Yes.”

Well, that’s pretty much how you and I often communicate with God. We’re so intent on making sure He’s listening to us, that He doesn’t miss all those needs and wants we’re always placing before Him, that we neglect the more important task: We fail to listen to Him. We forget, or simply can’t believe, that God hears our every prayer, that He knows our every need. Not only does God hear us, but He also speaks to us; and He does so conclusively and with clarity, but only if we have a well-developed prayer life.

We need only listen, listen as the Father commanded us. That’s right, twice in the gospels the Father speaks aloud regarding Jesus.

At Jesus’ Baptism the Father said, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” [Mt 3:17]. And so, as Jesus begins His ministry that culminates in His death and resurrection, and in our salvation, we learn that the Father sent Him to become one of us; that He is Emmanuel, God with us. Yes, the Father states unequivocally, that He is well pleased with His Son: This Jesus, My Son, has met all My demands for holiness, for righteousness, for goodness. What greater statement could God have made about His Son?

And then, in today’s Gospel passage, the Father again speaks aloud: “This is my beloved Son; listen to him” [Mk 9:7].

With these words we are given our primary responsibility as disciples of Jesus. “Listen to Him.” It’s a simple message, for God never complicates, He always simplifies. Simple but profound, God’s message isn’t obscured by some long to-do list of responsibilities and behavioral expectations; rather, it consists of one, simple command, “Listen to him.” This is the essence of discipleship, and it hasn’t changed since the days of Abraham.

I can remember as a child being fascinated by our family Bible. Every week my father would open it up, read aloud whatever passage happened to interest him that day, and then discuss it with us. To be honest, I was probably more interested in the remarkable illustrations in our Bible.

Ready

One illustration in particular both fascinated and terrified me. It was a brilliantly clear picture of an old man forcibly holding the body of a young boy against a stone altar. Even more disturbing was the large knife in the man’s hand, a knife pointed straight at the boy. That painting, by Caravaggio, was my introduction to Abraham and Isaac, and the caption beneath it consisted of a single word: “Ready!”

I remember thinking, ready for what? And so I asked my father, and he said, “Ready to sacrifice his son.” Well, that didn’t help; nor was it very reassuring. And so I asked more questions and received more puzzling answers that pretty much boiled down to: “Because God asked Abraham to do it, and because Abraham loved God.” It was all very confusing. I also found myself looking at my father a little differently, wondering if God might ask him to do what He’d asked Abraham.

Eventually, though, I came to realize that Abraham and Isaac were a kind of special case. God might not test us as He tested Abraham, but He still wanted us to listen, to obey, to be ready. Yes, Abraham loved and trusted God so deeply, He believed in God so faithfully, that he was ready to do whatever God asked of him. And God, seeing Abraham’s readiness, provided the ram to be sacrificed in place of Isaac. Years later, I learned that this readiness to do God’s will is the mark of the true disciple.

In today’s Gospel passage, we find ourselves generations away from Abraham, on another mountain where we encounter another who is ready. Peter, James and John follow their Master up its slopes, separating themselves from the world. And on that mountaintop Jesus gives them a glimpse of what is to come, a glimpse of the promise they don’t yet understand, a glimpse of God, of eternity – and they see it all through Jesus. Standing in His glory with Moses and Elijah, Jesus is fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets.

There was no caption explaining that scene for the apostles, but maybe Peter was starting to get the picture. Maybe deep down he’d come to realize another Biblical sacrifice was about to be offered. Like Isaac, another Son would carry his own wood of sacrifice up yet another hill.

Unable to grasp this fully, Peter is overwhelmed by the moment: Let’s build tents and just stay here forever. It’s so good to be here. But to be content with the present is not a statement of readiness, is it? It’s a statement of complacency. And complacency isn’t the mark of the disciple. To help Peter and the others understand this, God speaks, and Peter hears the voice of God, the voice that causes a healthy fear: This is my beloved Son – listen.

In this Lenten season, as we page through our history as a people, as we are presented each week with the stories of God’s faithfulness, as we picture the scenes and try to understand the captions God writes beneath them, as we do all these things, let’s remember what we’re called to do: to listen and to be ready to act.

Will we listen to Jesus as he speaks to us in so many ways: through the Gospel; through the Church; through each other? Are we ready, ready to act, ready to sacrifice? We’re asked to make only one sacrifice: total dedication to God – to be ready to serve Him always.

Ready to listen and respond to His call.

Ready to put sin behind us.

Ready to name grace when we see it.

Ready to love the unloved.

Ready to defend Christ and His Church in the public square.

Ready to challenge the world when it turns its back on Christ, when it embraces not life but death.

Here lies the very essence of our Christian spirituality: having hearts and minds spiritually tuned to hear what God is telling us. These days of Lent should be our listening time.

Days begun with a moment of quietness, a moment when we pray young Samuel’s simple prayer: Speak Lord, your servant is listening.

Days when we look for God and His message in life’s simple experiences and our encounters with others.

Days that end with a moment of thanksgiving.

Do we thank God for the love that gave us our very being?  Do we thank Him for the sacrifice that promises us eternal life?  Do we thank Him for each other?

Brothers and sisters, the Father who spared Isaac’s life, spared nothing in sacrificing His own Son. You and I are asked to do no less. But are we ready?

Religious freedom, contraception and Georgetown Law School

Statue of John Carroll, 1st U.S. bishop, at Georgetown U.

Back -- way back -- in 1962 I attended Georgetown University for one year before receiving a congressional appointment to the U. S. Naval Academy. In those days, Georgetown, a Jesuit institution founded in 1789, was actually Catholic. Even in the School of Foreign Service we had required theology courses. A crucifix was displayed in every classroom. There were well-segregated men's dorms and women's dorms. We had nightly curfews. The men wore ties and jackets to class. And, yes, we were actually encouraged to attend Mass and receive the sacraments.

This is no longer the case, as Georgetown has fallen into step with the zeitgeist. Over the past few decades the university has shed most traces of its Catholicity and devolved into a secular institution with a "Catholic heritage." This was at least partly evidenced the other day during Nancy Pelosi's hearings on the administration's policy requiring Catholic institutions to provide free contraception, sterilization, and abortifacients. One young woman,Sandra Fluke, who testified at this hearing complained that she and other women attending Georgetown Law School suffered financially because the cost of contraception was not covered by the university's health plan. I could hardly believe my ears. This woman wanted someone else, in this instance a nominally Catholic law school, to pay for law students' promiscuity. I'll give Georgetown some credit for their more restrictive health plan.

Apparently, as Nancy Pelosi herself has stated, women's health demands that the availability of free contraception must trump that pesky old religious freedom our founding fathers enshrined in the First Amendment to our Constitution. What is euphemistically called "women's health" actually has very little to do with women's health, unless one believes pregnancy to be a disease. It really involves the freedom of women to be sexually active without having to fret about the consequences. It involves the killing of a living human being up until the moment of its birth...and even after. And we're supposed to pay for all this regardless of our religious beliefs.

Earlier today I read a wonderful essay by Emily Stimpson in which she wrote:

"Birth control is not women’s friend. Abortion is not women’s friend. Sexual license is not women’s friend.

"Together, they have reduced women to objects, contributed to the ravaging of women’s bodies by sexually transmitted disease, spiked both abortions and out of wedlock births, helped build a culture of promiscuity and pornography where women are primarily valued for their sexual desirability, caused infertility, caused cancer, caused divorces, destroyed families, and left wounds so profound and so deep on the souls of millions upon millions of women that nothing but the greatest miracles of grace will be able to heal those wounds.

"They are all, unequivocally, bad news, and the Catholic Church recognizes that.

"In the culture today, women have no greater friend than the Catholic Church. It is the Catholic Church who fights for us. It is the Catholic Church who respects us. It is the Catholic Church who sees us as the beautiful, intelligent, graced images of God that we are."

And if your son or daughter wants to attend Georgetown, I suggest you refuse to pay for it.

Homily: Wednesday 1st Week of Lent

Readings: Jon 3:1-10; Ps 51; Lk 11:29-32
       
The one question I'm asked most often about this Gospel passage is, "What is the sign of Jonah?"

Jesus actually speaks of two signs of Jonah in the gospels, once in Matthew 12 where He explicitly assigns it to His Resurrection: "For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the whale, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth" [Mt 12:40]

But in today's passage from Luke, Jesus never even mentions His Resurrection or Jonah's whale. Instead He says: "Just as Jonah became a sign to the Ninevites, so will the Son of Man be to this generation...At the judgment the men of Nineveh will arise with this generation and condemn it, because at the preaching of Jonah they repented, and there is something greater than Jonah here" [Lk 11:30,32]

The sign seems clear: Jonah preached to the Ninevites that their city would be destroyed in 40 days. But, led by their king, the Ninevites repented, fasted and prayed, and God turned back His intent to destroy them. Here the sign of Jonah becomes a blunt “Repent or die!”

It would seem, then, that Jesus is warning His listeners to repent and believe the Good News, to put faith in His words and live. Otherwise they will suffer a great punishment.

But let's look at it from a deeper level. Nineveh was the capital of Assyria, the hated enemy of Israel, and so Jonah didn’t relish the idea of preaching to the Ninevites. If the Ninevites rejected him, they would likely kill him. But if they listened and repented, God would forgive them, they would prosper, and probably overrun Israel.

Of course, the latter is what actually happened. God strengthened Assyria, a people that didn't know Him, and used them to punish Israel for its sins. It happened just as Isaiah had prophesied: "Assyria, the rod of my anger, in whose hand is the club of my wrath! I send him against a godless nation (Israel), I dispatch him against a people who anger me" [Is 10:5-6]

Jesus is telling the Jews of His time to repent and believe in the Gospel or He will give it to the Gentiles. As He told the disciples later, Therefore I tell you that the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce its fruit. And sure enough, the punishment occurred when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem in 70 A.D.

What about us today? With so many Christians rejecting the Gospel of life and accepting what Pope John Paul II called the culture of death, we are in great need of repentance.

In Europe, the cradle of Christendom, the faith has almost disappeared from public and private life, a fact reflected in the low birth rates of nominal Christians. Could it be, we are engaged in our own self-destruction? Like the chosen people, will we be left with only a remnant of the faithful, a remnant that will be called to repent and evangelize the world to ensure God's promise to us is kept?

Is this also the sign of Jonah, a sign for today? You and I must decide.