The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Homily: Wednesday. 25th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Proverbs 30:5-9; Psalm 119; Luke 9:1-6
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When Diane and I travel we always overpack. Hotel bellman cry out with prayers of thanksgiving for the expected tips. Yes, despite our best intentions we carry all sorts of baggage on our journey. It's certainly not very apostolic of us. 

For Jesus tells the apostles to take next to nothing! And do you know something? He tells us to do the same. You see, Jesus knew that the more we take on this journey of ours, the more we'll rely on those things and the less we'll rely on God. The less we rely on God, the harder it will be to see God in others, especially those who lack the material blessings we've been given. And I suspect the more we're encumbered with stuff, the harder it is for others to see God in us.

A few months ago, in a conversation with one of my fellow volunteers at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen, I remarked that the meal we were serving that day looked particularly appetizing. She just shrugged her shoulders and said, "I suppose so, but I really don't think much about food." Just then one of our guests, who had overheard her comment, said, "You would if you didn't have any."

What do you think? Did he see God in us that day? It's easy to overlook another's empty plate when our own is overflowing. Perhaps having too much to eat is worse than having too little. It tends to make us insensitive to those who hunger, and ungrateful to God for all His gifts.

Jesus invites us to rely on Him for everything we need, so we're not tempted to take credit for the good in our lives.
When He sent out the Apostles, He gave them something far more valuable than things. He gave them a companion and a message; he also gave them power and authority. He took away their transportation, their luggage, food, money, and extra clothes. He didn't make reservations for them at the Ritz Carlton, or the Holiday Inn, or even Motel 6. Instead he told them, "Whatever house you enter, stay there and leave from there" [Lk 9:4]

Too often we do exactly the opposite of what Jesus tells us, with predictable results. Why? Because we just don't trust God enough to do it His way.

This is a particularly fitting theme for our parish because tomorrow we celebrate the memorial of our patron, St. Vincent de Paul. Vincent was the epitome of trust. Like Mother Teresa, 300 years later, he placed total trust in God and achieved great things. Listen to what Vincent once said about trust:
"Free your mind from all that troubles you; God will take care of things. You will be unable to make haste in this (choice) without, so to speak, grieving the heart of God, because he sees that you do not honor him sufficiently with holy trust. Trust in him, I beg you, and you will have the fulfillment of what your heart desires."
St. Vincent knew poverty because he lived a life of poverty, and devoted himself and the orders he founded to helping the poor.

His life was an echo of today's reading from Proverbs: 
Put falsehood and lying far from me, give me neither poverty nor riches; provide me only with the food I need; lest being full, I deny you, saying, "Who is the Lord?" Or, being in want, I steal and profane the name of my God [Prv 30:8-9].
Yes, St. Vincent knew that "poverty of spirit" frees us from greed and preoccupation with possessions and gives God room to act in our lives.

The Lord wants us, His disciples, to be dependent on Him and not on ourselves - for then He will work through and in each of us for his glory. So, the question for us today is: Are we ready to handle the power and authority God wants us to exercise on His behalf? 

He entrusts us with His gifts and talents.  Are we eager to place ourselves at his service, to do whatever He asks, and to witness His truth and saving power to all He sends to us?

Political Correctness

Among modern man's more puzzling traits is his seeming unwillingness to name that which is trying to destroy him. It's a particularly dangerous trait since it even goes so far as to disguise its own name. We are urged to call it "political correctness" which has both an innocent and positive ring to it. But political correctness really has little to do with true politics, and because it is inherently deceiving, it is far from correct. In truth it is nothing but a lie. 

I've always believed that all lies have their origin with Satan and his flunkies. He is, after all, the father of lies, as Jesus reminded those who refused to accept Him:
"You belong to your father the devil and you willingly carry out your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning and does not stand in truth, because there is no truth in him. When he tells a lie, he speaks in character, because he is a liar and the father of lies" [Jn 8:44].
How many today accept these words of Jesus? How many accept that Satan even exists? I'm reminded of that line from the movie, The Usual Suspects, when Kevin Spacey's character Verbal says: "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he doesn't exist." This revelation didn't originate in Hollywood, but is actually found in the book of Revelation:
"The huge dragon, the ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, who deceived the whole world, was thrown down to earth, and its angels were thrown down with it" [Rev 12:9].
Yes, he "who deceived the whole world" continues to deceive, and has many willing to help him. The idea of political correctness, indeed even the actual term, was a clever semantic innovation by Stalinists in the Soviet Union in the 1920s. Its purpose, then and now, is to bully and/or brainwash the public in order to squash debate on any subject that might undermine the state's ideological foundation. For the communist this includes virtually every subject imaginable, from art to science, from architecture to engineering, from philosophy to politics, and, yes, even religion. We don't call them totalitarians for nothing. 

Because atheism is among the basic tenets of communist ideology, that original political correctness and its modern descendants strive to eliminate all things religious from the public square. Christian values are particularly troublesome to authoritarian and totalitarian regimes because of Christianity's embrace of freedom, the freedom of the individual to choose the good. This, of course, runs afoul of the state's desire to control every aspect of the citizen's life. 

In a totalitarian state political correctness can be enforced rather easily: the government need only exert its extensive state power through education, forced re-education, imprisonment, or even execution. But in a constitutional republic like the United States, the application of political correctness demands a more subtle approach. By flooding the educational establishment with ideological fellow travelers, the state can control the thinking of future generations. Other tactics include publicly accusing violators of being homophobic, racist, sexist, or any other convenient "ist" that connotes hatred. Once applied by the elites and their allies in the media, these labels tend to stick, and go on to ruin reputations and remove the targets and their ideas from the public discourse.

Progressives also target constitutional protections, particularly those supported by our Bill of Rights. They ridicule the Constitution as another old document, or as President Obama said in his 2017 farewell address, "It's really just a piece of parchment" and presumably no longer applicable to the lives of modern Americans. For progressives it must instead become a "living document," one demanding constant change so it can reflect our society's evolving norms. I also recall when Barack Obama echoed this interpretation by stating, "The Constitution is a living document; no strict constructionism." Such thinking, of course, makes the Constitution as written by our founders irrelevant.


Many see political correctness as essentially harmless, but I suggest it becomes truly dangerous when those who exercise state power adopt it as their governing attitude.  Just look at the record of the police in the U.K. In the 12 months ending in March 2008, the police in the U.K. made 1.5 million arrests, while nine years later, in the 12 months ending in March 2017, they made only 780,000 arrests. Now this might lead one to believe that this almost 50% decrease in arrests resulted from a corresponding decrease in crime. But this assumption would be wrong...very, very wrong. Although arrests were down by 48%, crime increased drastically. In just the past year violent crime in the U.K. increased by almost 20%, rape by 22%, knifings by 26%, and in a nation where gun ownership is almost non-existent, gun crime increased by 27%. Similar increases were reported for both burglary and robbery.


Why so few arrests in the face of so much crime? The answer is simple. Instead of solving real crimes, the police have focused on "hate incidents" and "malicious communications." In London, which by the way is now more dangerous than New York City, arrests for making offensive online comments rose 53%. And so freedom of speech, once a cherished right among the British, gets crushed by political correctness...and so do peoples lives.


St. Michael, protect us...from ourselves.


Monday, September 24, 2018

Christ and His Church

The other morning after Mass I exposed the Blessed Sacrament on our church's altar for an hour of adoration by the faithful. I left the church for about 20 minutes to take care of a few things in the parish office and then returned to spend the rest of the hour with the Lord before Benediction. 

I prayed and gazed upon the gift of Christ's Real Presence in the monstrance, but as usual my prayers were lacking -- self-absorbed prayers of petition driven not by the Father's will but by mine. At some point I realized how imperfect my prayer had become, and glanced up at the large crucifix suspended over the sanctuary. 

As my thoughts turned from my petty problems, I found myself pondering Jesus Christ and His Church. When we see Jesus we see the Church, His Mystical Body, for He is its head and we are its members. Where Jesus is, so too is His Church. There, high over the sanctuary, is Jesus, nailed to that Cross to redeem us, to forgive us of our sinfulness, to free us from our enslavement. And there, too, is His Church, crucified by the sins of its own members. Every sin is yet another pounding of the hammer on those nails. Every sin is another of God's people admitting that he prefers slavery to true freedom. Things really haven't changed much since the days of Moses. Here we are, three millennia later, and like God's chosen ones, we too are willing to toss freedom aside in exchange for the modern equivalent of the fleshpots of Egypt [Ex 16:3]. 

I experienced a kind of vision as I knelt at the foot of the altar looking up at our crucified Jesus. High on the back wall of the sanctuary a window framed  the large crucifix, and beyond that window clouds rushed across the blue Florida sky. And, oh, did they rush! They moved quickly, so quickly a single cloud was visible for only a second or two before another took its place. I had been outside earlier and it hadn't been at all windy, and yet those clouds flew by that window. Watching them, I thought only of the passage of time, the centuries moving through God's Creation and carrying us, His Church, with them. But there, in stark contrast to the fleeting clouds, was Jesus on the Cross, unmovable, constant, the Lord of History, the Eternal Word, a sign of God's unchanging love.

I can't write about the horrendous sins of some priests, bishops, and others (deacons?), at least not today, because I simply don't know the facts. In truth I'm not sure I want to know the facts, all the sordid details. I have enough trouble confronting my own sinfulness without having to deal with the sins of others. But the facts will ultimately be revealed because the truth cannot be hidden forever. How did Jesus put it in today's Gospel passage from Luke?

"For there is nothing hidden that will not become visible, and nothing secret that will not be known and come to light" [Lk 8:17].

The truth can't be stashed in some chancery closet because God's suffering Church demands the truth. And the truth will set us free even if it leads to seemingly hard times for the Church in the days to come. The Church, like Jesus on the Cross, will always be a suffering Church. But despite the sinfulness of its people, the Church itself remains holy.

Pope Francis and our bishops should perhaps listen to the words of St. Catherine of Siena who, in the year 1380, in the midst of another crisis that threatened to tear the Church apart, wrote the following to Pope Urban VI:

“You cannot with a single stroke wipe out all of the sins people in general are committing within the Christian religion, especially within the clerical order, over whom you should be even more watchful. But you certainly can and are obligated to do it, and if you don’t, you would have it on your conscience. At least do what you can. You must cleanse the Church’s womb — that is, see to it that those who surround you closely are wiped clean of filth, and put people there who are attentive to God’s honor and your welfare and the good of holy Church. …”

St. Catherine went on to warn the pope:

“Do you know what will happen to you if you don’t set things right by doing what you can? God wants you to reform his bride completely; he doesn’t want her to be leprous any longer. If your holiness does not do all you can about this — because God has appointed you and given you such dignity for no other purposes — God will do it himself by using all sorts of troubles.”

Yes, indeed, if we do not act God will "do it himself" as he has many times in the past...just as he did it himself when he stretched out his arms at Calvary.
  

Wednesday, August 29, 2018

God and Politics

I'm tired. I'm tired of the arguments, tired of defending the truth to people who should know better. Sometimes I just want to crawl into my tent, close the flap, and get away from it all. 

For example, the other day after Mass, a parishioner approached and, I guess, challenged me. I don't know why he came to me, but for some reason I was his target of opportunity.

"Religion and politics don't mix," he told me. "The Church should stay away from politics, and politicians should stay clear of religion." 

He had thrown down the gauntlet and I should have addressed the many errors in his statement, but the thought of another long argument...as I said, I'm tired. My reply? "I'm sure many people agree with you, but I'm not one of them. Maybe we can talk about it later, when I have the time." With that I turned and entered the safety of the sacristy, my tent.

As I removed my vestments I couldn't help but recall the words of St. Paul, who seems to delight in reminding me of my weaknesses:
"Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, persevere in prayer" [Rom 12:11-12].
In other words, "Keep going, pal. If you're not tired, you're probably not doing what you're called to do." And so I resolved to talk with that parishioner the next chance I get. 

Politics, of course, is just one of many human activities. It involves the how and why of governance, the practice of directing the affairs of human society, particularly public policy. 

Religion involves man's relationship with God, the Creator of all. And since that relationship must involve every aspect of human life, neither politics nor any other human activity can be divorced from religion. 
Some, of course, will wrongly argue that our Constitution's First Amendment is designed to do just that, to separate religion from politics. But that's not its intent. It merely tells citizens (and politicians) that the state may not favor one religious group over others by establishing a state religion. It also tells the state that it cannot prohibit its citizens from freely exercising their religious beliefs. Those who drafted our Constitution recognized the pervasive and beneficial role religion plays in regulating human activity, and sought to protect religion from those who would place unjust limitations on it.

Anyway, in the strange way my mind works, this got me thinking about World War One, and that brought to mind my Uncle Bill. He was my mother's half-brother -- I guess that makes him my half-uncle -- and was a Navy veteran of World War One. We will "celebrate" the 100th anniversary of that war's conclusion at 11 a.m. on November 11. The irony, of course, is that this "war to end all wars" and its aftermath brought us the even more devastating World War Two and all the other wars that followed. 

[By the way, if you're interested in a fascinating book about the end of World War One and the deadly and pointless fighting that continued right up to the final minute on that first Armistice Day, read Joseph Persico's fascinating book, Eleventh Month, Eleventh Day, Eleventh Hour.]
I was just a teenager when Uncle Bill died, but I remember him talking about WWI and his pride in having served. On one of our visits I recall him saying something to the effect that, "But the politicians sure made a mess of things afterwards. Maybe if they'd been more Christian…" And with those words, Uncle Bill beautifully summed up the mess the politicians made of the 20th century.  

"...if they'd been more Christian…" We suffer today because human powers decided to remove God from the political decisions that formed our modern world. God's Word was ruled out 100 years ago at Versailles. Instead of forgiveness, the ruling word was "revenge." The victors sought retaliation and reparations at any cost, and the world paid a high price indeed. The desperation of the Central Powers also sent Lenin's train to Russia, an act that ultimately cost far more innocent lives than the war itself.
I am not a pacifist. I accept that nations have a right to defend themselves from those who would attack them. I am well aware that sometimes just action can include the waging of war in order to prevent even greater evil. But when men try to repair a broken world by forgetting God and following only man's faulty wisdom, more brokenness inevitably follows.

But how many politicians actually take the Sermon on the Mount seriously? How many of us...?

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you" [Mt 5:43-44]. 
I know of no nation that has integrated this mandate of Jesus into its foreign policy. Is that what Jesus wants? Can we 
love our enemies and still defend ourselves from them? Yes, I believe so. But loving them still places demands on us, the kind of demands ignored by the victors at Versailles. And note Jesus' other command: "...pray for those who persecute you." In other words, at some point we must bring God into the picture, for that's what prayer is intended to do.

We cannot expel God from politics, war, economics, or any other human activity. He simply won't let us, and will insert Himself as He wills. He is, after all, the Lord of History. But to include Him in all we do as a nation involves far more than an annual prayer breakfast at the Capitol or the occasional speech-ending "God Bless America."  No, it means struggling to be imitators of God, to live up to our creation in His image and likeness, to strive to do what is impossible for man.
"Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect."
Jesus concludes His teaching on loving our enemies with a  command impossible to obey, at least on our own: 

"So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect" [Mt 5:48].
To strive for this perfection that God desires of us means we must turn to Him in all things, and that even includes politics. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to vote for a politician who was striving for the perfection of our heavenly Father?

Tuesday, August 28, 2018

The Truth Will Set You Free

Archbishop Vigano
Just a brief post today. My comments will mean nothing in light of what has already been said and will likely be said in the days and weeks to come. Of course I write about Archbishop Carlo Maria Vigano, former Papal Nuncio to the United States, and his detailed 11-page testimony related to the serial homosexual abuse committed by ex-Cardinal Theodore McCarrick. The archbishop also addresses what he sees as the willful cover-up of McCarrick's crimes by many in the Church's hierarchy. 

I read the document as soon as it was published and was saddened by what the archbishop wrote. I do not know Archbishop Vigano personally, but I have two acquaintances who know him well, and both have stated that he is an honest, honorable and faithful priest to whom we should listen. If what he writes is true he is also a courageous priest. Here's a link to the archbishop's testimony: Archbishop Vigano 

I also know that there are those who are very uncomfortable with the idea of making all of this evil, this corruption and widespread perversion, public. It will damage the Church in ways we can't imagine, they tell us. Perhaps it will, but more importantly, "...you will know the truth and the truth will set you free" [Jn 8:32]. I've always believed that, and one hopes the Church's bishops believe it too. We must demand the truth! And if what Archbishop Vigano has written is substantiated, then I agree with him when he pleads with all those who covered up this depravity to resign. The depravity of McCarick and too many others like him is a horrendous evil, but to cover it up and allow it to continue is even worse. As I remarked in a homily the other day, it is time to begin again as the Church always has when it must root out sin and corruption within its walls.

There are brave bishops out there and here's what just two of them have written about what is happening in the Church today:

Letter to the Faithful by Bishop Robert Morlino, Diocese of Madison

Comments by South African Cardinal Wilfred Napier


Pray for our One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.

Saturday, August 25, 2018

Maddie, My Teacher

How nice it is to have a day off...no meetings, no obligations, just a day to take it easy. As it turned out Maddie, the wonderdog, seemed very happy that I had nowhere to go and would spend the day with her and Diane. The only time we left the house -- and we took Maddie with us -- was to take advantage of early voting in the Florida primary elections.
Maddie, Wonderdog
Anyway, this day with Maddie got me thinking about how remarkably intelligent she is and what she has taught me. Other than Dear Diane, who in her kindness knows best how to remind me of my many weaknesses and encourage me in my few strengths, I believe it is our little Maddie, a ten year old Bichon Frise, who has become my most reliable teacher. 

Yes, indeed, I have become my dog's student. I suspect most dog owners would recoil at such a thought. Dogs are to be trained, fed, played with, walked, and exercised. From this we in turn reap the benefit of their company and their seemingly blind loyalty. I suppose for most people, who share their homes with a dog, this is a reasonable quid pro quo. It was certainly a sufficient trade-off for me and the many dogs I enjoyed before Maddie joined our household. They were all good dogs...OK, a couple had some mild sanity issues. But none ever taught me very much. Or, perhaps more accurately, I wasn't very receptive to their teaching. Aha! You see, I continue to learn. Often enough it's the receptivity of the student that determines the quality of the teaching. Maybe those earlier dogs tried their best to share their canine wisdom with me, but I was simply too wrapped up in my humanity to grasp and absorb their teaching. Perhaps, then, it is the more mature and open person I have become that has made little Maddie such an effective teacher. But, regardless, she does teach me, and her lessons frequently call to mind truths of Sacred Scripture. That's right! Maddie's lessons are the seeds that bear some very fruitful scriptural meditation. 

This should be expected. On the sixth day, right before He created man, 
"God made the beasts of the earth according to their kinds and the cattle according to their kinds, and everything that creeps upon the ground according to its kind. And God saw that it was good" [Gen 1:25]. 
As for dogs, I've always believed the Holy Spirit on that day instilled in them a special nature and intelligence -- "according to their kind" -- something greater than that possessed by the average beast. "The Lord, the giver of life" gave the dog a unique nature that makes it especially compatible as man's loyal companion and workmate. Not only was the dog specially created, but it's been around longer than we have and can perhaps teach us a few things.
"But now ask the beasts to teach you, the birds of the air to tell you; or speak to the earth to instruct you, and the fish of the sea to inform you. Which of these does not know that the hand of God has done this? In His hand is the soul of every living thing, and the life breath of all mortal flesh" [Job 12:7-10].
As I describe Maddie's teaching and the lessons that derive from it, I'll just point to what I believe to be relevant passages  and let you dig into your Bibles should you wish to pursue each more deeply.

These lessons begin early each day. Maddie and I are both morning people -- OK , she's a morning dog, but you know what I mean. We are both at our best in the hours shortly before and after dawn:
"Rising very early before dawn, He left and went off to a deserted place, where He prayed" [Mk 1:35].
"I rise before dawn and cry out; I put my hope in your words" [Ps 119:147].
I rise first, throw on a pair of shorts and a shirt, make the coffee, pray the Church's Morning Prayer, and then retrieve the newspaper from the driveway. I suppose I feel a bit superior because I rise before most others in my time zone, or at least in my neighborhood. I am reminded of the words of the psalmist:
"It is vain for you to rise early and put off your rest at night, to eat bread earned by hard toil -- all this God gives to his beloved sheep" [Ps 127:2].
Maddie still sleeps, but after about 30 minutes she rises and greets me. She neither drinks coffee nor reads newspapers, so it makes sense to grab an extra half-hour of sleep. She does, however, pray. Indeed, every beast prays through its very existence, a sign of God's creative love, a sign revealed through His prophet Daniel:
"All you beasts, wild and tame. bless the Lord; praise and exalt Him above all forever" [Dan 3:81].

Despite the fact that she wakes up hungry, Maddie usually lies at my feet, quietly and patiently. She always allows me time to read the paper and sip my coffee, thus setting an example for all of us who are called to wait patiently: 
"Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? Bur if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience" [Rom 8:24-25].
Eventually, though, she lets her stomach speak. She sits up, wags her tail enthusaistically, stares at me intently, and utters a series of muted but mildly irritating high-pitched whines. This, she has learned, motivates the lazy, distracted me to act. In truth I see myself as little better than the unjust judge of the parable, pestered by the widow who won't cease requesting justice:
"...because this widow keeps bothering me I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me" [Lk 18:5].
Take some time to read and meditate on the entire parable [Lk 18:1-8]. There is much good to be found there.

And of course, as Maddie realizes, it is only just that I who accepted the responsibility to care for her, should be willing to feed her when she is hungry.

After eating, Maddie most often curls up in her little bed and rests for a while. Like Our Lord, she seems to know that both food and rest are necessary for the disciple who does God's work:
"He said to them, 'Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.' People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat" [Mk 6:31].
But it's not long, perhaps another half-hour, before she again lets me know -- more wagging, staring, and whining -- that it's time for our morning walk. The length of our walks varies, determined largely by the weather. But most Florida mornings are pleasant enough to allow for a longish walk, say 30 to 60 minutes. 

Walking, of course, is a good thing, depending on its purpose. For me it offers a time and place for prayer and an opportunity to contemplate God's greatness through His gifts.
"Arise, walk through the land, across its length and breadth, for I give it to you" [Gen 13:17].
"And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us, a fragrant offering and a sacrifice to God"  [Eph 5:2].
During these walks Maddie and I converse about all kinds of things. In fact, a few of the neighbors, have occasionally remarked, "Oh, yes, I hear you when you walk your dog, talking to her. How interesting..." I suspect that someone, somewhere in the vast bureaucratic wasteland we politely call "government", has started a file with my name on it. Conspiracy theory? I don't think so.

But did you know that "experts" -- that is, those who spend taxpayer money on such things -- claim that the average intelligent dog has a vocabulary of upwards of 200 words? I don't find this at all surprising. My conversations with Maddie during our walks only confirm this -- something, by the way, I concluded without expending a single tax dollar. 

Let me describe a typical conversation during one of these early morning walks. (Note: Maddie is an adept at what the experts call non-verbal communication, and her expertise is bi-directional: she both "sees" what I'm saying and communicates through both expression and posture.)

When I mention the word "walk" and she hears the noise associated with my retrieval of harness and leash, she heads for the front door. Overflowing with excitement, she begins the game of hiding from the harness. This "game" lasts only a few seconds, but it must be played. Once the harness is on, I tell her to "shake" which she does in a remarkable display of bodily control, a rapid progression of high-speed shakes that moves from head to tail in less than two seconds. Leash attached, she moves to the door, but glances at me over her right shoulder, and I hear the words, "OK, I'm ready. No hesitation. Let's move." And I'm reminded of the need always to be enthusiastic in our faith. When that which is good calls, there should be no hesitation:
"Never flag in zeal, be aglow with the Spirit, serve the Lord" [Rom 12:11]
"He said to them, 'Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.' At once they left their nets and followed Him" [Mt 4:19-20]
When we reach the end of the driveway, I ask her, "Which way today?" She looks right, then left, and finally decides. 
Again, without hesitation she moves down the street with obvious purpose. 

I jokingly accuse Maddie of suffering from that dreaded canine syndrome, OCS, or Obsessive Compulsive Sniffing. I've learned to live with it and allow her to apply fully her remarkable olfactory talents. The process engages her so completely that all other sensory inputs seem to be ignored. If I speak to her, even using words that would normally bring an instant reaction -- for example, "treat" or "doggie" -- she doesn't react but continues to sample the scents left behind by other of God's creatures. At some point she decides she knows all there is to know and reengages with me. Watching her I'm reminded of St. Paul's advice to stay focused: 
"I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature be thus minded; and if in anything you are otherwise minded, God will reveal that also to you" [Phil 3:14-15]
This morning, as we sniffed our way along one of the neighborhood streets, we encountered Angel and her master. Angel, a small terrier-like dog, is both blind and deaf, and navigates using her sense of smell alone. Maddie seems to understand Angel's disability and always approaches her gingerly so as not to surprise her. Angel senses Maddie's presence at some distance and turns toward us. They sniff noses and share friendly canine greetings. To Maddie Angel's disability is nothing strange, nothing remarkable. She doesn't shy away. She doesn't avoid her. She treats her just as she would any other dog, with enthusiasm. What a lesson for us. Read Mark's narrative of the healing of the blind Bartimaeus at the gate of Jericho. Note the condescending way the disciples treated this blind man:
"On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, 'Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.' And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more, 'Son of David, have pity on me.' Jesus stopped and said, 'Call him.' So they called the blind man, saying to him, 'Take courage; get up, he is calling you'" [Mk 10:47-49].
Read the complete narrative [Mk 10:48-52] and then ask yourself, "Who is the true disciple here?" Perhaps the so-called disciples should take a lesson from Maddie.

I won't bore you with more of my conversations with Maddie. But I trust she will continue to educate me, continue to show me God's Word in action. She's quite a dog.

 (Just a quick aside for all you cat lovers out there. The largest of dogs can still be a faithful companion, the kind one would trust with a small child. But large cats simply don't posses a nature compatible with domestication. Would you leave a child in the care of a Cheetah? The loyalty of even most small cats is greatly suspect, and seems more directed to self than to another...just one man's opinion.)


Monday, August 20, 2018

Homily: Feast of St. Bernard - Monday, 20th Week in Ordinary Time

Today's homily includes some of the comments I made in an earlier blog posting. But I felt called by the Spirit to address the current news about the Church in a homily. 
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Readings: Ez 24:15-23 • Dt 32:18-21 • Mt 19:16-22
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In recent days more than a few parishioners have come to me, looking for direction and hope in the face of the headlines and all they see happening in the Church. Why they came to me, I can't imagine, for I am the least qualified, the least able...How often do I find myself praying those words of St. Peter:
"Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man" [Lk 5:8]. 
"Depart from me, Lord..."
And then God humbles me, and I realize it's not me, the man, people come to; it's the deacon, God's servant. Calling on the Holy Spirit, I respond as best I can. Sometimes it takes a while to hear the Spirit, and it was actually through today's readings that I gradually came to realize the fulness of what He was telling me.

Turning first to Ezekiel, we find the prophet faced with a personal loss, the sudden, unexpected death of his wife, whom God lovingly refers to as "the delight of your eyes" [Ez 24:16]. Aren't those beautiful words? - "the delight of your eyes" - words that offer a glimpse into the love that must have bound these two. 

I suspect Ezekiel ultimately came to accept his wife's death as a blessing that would spare her from the calamities about to befall God's People. For God tells Ezekiel not to mourn her death openly, that much more sadness is coming, and he must be the example:
"You shall be a sign to them, and they shall know that I am the Lord" [Ez 24:27].
Babylon's long siege of Jerusalem will end, the enemy will overrun its walls, God's sanctuary, the Temple, will be desecrated and destroyed, and many of God's children will be slaughtered, the rest carried off into exile.
Jerusalem and the Temple Destroyed
God gave Ezekiel the task of leading the people as they faced these tragedies. "What does this mean for us?" they ask him.

They're reminded that sin has entered the Temple, just as today sin has desecrated the Church from within. Innocents have suffered and shepherds have turned away. In Ezekiel's Jerusalem priests and kings had turned from God, had forgotten His Law, just as today far too many in God's Church have done the same.

Blessed Pope Paul VI
In 1972, Blessed Pope Paul VI stated prophetically that, "Through some fissure, the smoke of Satan entered into the Temple of God." With this we're reminded of Moses' words in our responsorial.
"You have forgotten God who gave you birth" [Dt 32:18].
Yes, too many have forgotten God; and we are overwhelmed with sadness and moved by righteous anger. It must always be a righteous, not a vengeful, anger. It must be the kind of righteous anger that cleansed the Temple in Jerusalem. And so we, too, turn to our God and ask, "What does this mean for us? What shall we do?"

We must do what the faithful have always done, which is really little different from what Ezekiel told God's People: Continue to turn prayerfully to our merciful God and ask for the strength to begin over again. That's right! We must begin again as the Church has many times over two millennia.

Francis, Repair My House...
St. Bernard, whose memorial we celebrate today, was called to heal the Church in a time of disunity and schism almost 1,000 years ago. Yes, it was a time to begin again.

Our Lord later commanded St. Francis: "Go and repair my house which, as you see, is falling into ruin." It too was a time to begin again.

Yes, the Church has faced ruin before, but Jesus promised: 
"I am with you always, until the end of the age" [Mt 28:20].
Today we are led by another Francis, a man who must carry on with the task of rebirth. We must pray that God gives him and his bishops the will and the strength to cleanse the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.

Sadly, some in the Church will not accept this. They will turn from Christ's Church, forgetting that the Church remains holy despite the sinfulness of its members. In their sadness and their anger, they will turn away even from the Eucharist - "the source and summit of the Christian life" - and reach after so much that offers so very little. Like the rich young man who came to Jesus in our passage from Matthew, they will turn away in sadness, unable to accept the Gospel without compromise.

50 years ago, when Pope Benedict XVI was a young Father Joseph Ratzinger, he too made some prophetic comments in a radio broadcast:
"From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge - a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning.
"But in all of the changes at which one might guess, the Church will find her essence afresh and with full conviction in that which was always at her center: faith in the triune God, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, in the presence of the Spirit until the end of the world.
"The Church will be a more spiritual Church... It will make her poor and cause her to become the Church of the meek."
Fr. Ratzinger Speaking About the Church's Future
 [Note: To read the entirety of then Fr. Ratzinger's broadcast, get a copy of his book, Faith and the Future. His remarks on the future of the Church can be found in the last chapter.]
Brothers and sisters, we must become the Church of the meek, a Church of the humble that approaches God in repentance. This is what we are called to do. We, the faithful, are called to "start afresh...from the beginning," and do so in faith, in humility, and in love. We must not, we cannot, accept sin by calling it by another name, and yet we must also forgive the sinner and embrace and console the innocents.

About 20 years ago, as a fairly new deacon, I was asked to speak to a group of seminarians. During the course of my remarks, I told them: 
"The holiest people you will ever encounter are not seated in the sanctuary; they are in the pews of your parish church. They will look to you for truth, for direction, and example, but if you don't provide it, they will rightly turn to God. They will find Him in prayer, in the Sacraments, in Sacred Scripture, and in Sacred Tradition. They will find Him in each other, in the Church, and it is through them that God will keep the Church holy."
That's right, brothers and sisters; through you, God will keep the Church holy.
“Be holy, for I, the LORD your God, am holy [Lv 19:2].
Pray for our faithful priests and bishops.

Thursday, August 16, 2018

Homily: Monday, 19th Week of Ordinary Time - Year 2

Readings: Ez 1:2-5,24-28 • Ps 148 • Mt 17:22-27
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Jesus spent a lot of time shaping His disciples' hearts, opening their eyes to the Paschal mystery that ultimately must come. He did this first through the example of His own life, and then gradually in their lives. In our passage from Matthew, we see this shaping taking place.'


For some time, now, Jesus' allusions to His death and Resurrection had gained steady momentum. In the two chapters preceding today's reading, He  revealed to them the necessity of His suffering, death and resurrection. But today Jesus tells the disciples openly that, 
"The Son of Man is to be handed over to men, and they will kill him, and he will be raised on the third day" [Mt 17:22-23].
Although still unable to accept this, the disciples seem to have made some progress.

Remember how Peter reacted almost violently when the Lord first announced His passion? Compare that with their reaction now. They no longer dare argue with Jesus. Instead they're "overwhelmed with grief" [Mt 17:23] 

Jesus' words were plain, their meaning clear. The Apostles certainly don't understand the "why" of it all, but they've begun to accept its inevitability.
Jesus Reveals the Cross
Perhaps that's one of the reasons Jesus often calls Himself the Son of Man. That the Son of Man, the flower of humanity, will be betrayed by men underscores humanity's tragic self-deceit. By betraying God, by killing His Son, Who is also the Son of Man, we actually betray and kill ourselves.

Our loving God doesn't come to us as an all-knowing, omnipotent creator...No, He comes as one of us, as our loving brother.

Years ago, an agnostic friend said to me, "I could never be a Christian. Your idea of God is absolutely crazy...that the God who created the universe would come to this insignificant little planet as a man, and then let us kill Him. That's an insane God."

Yes, indeed, for many men, such love is insane. It's insane to them because they could never love so much. They actually despise how God approaches us in Jesus. They hate it for the same reason Cain despised and killed his brother, Abel.

The motive is clear: Jesus presents us with the reality of our better selves. He shows us how we could be, and we feel in our flesh the sharp edge of judgment and inferiority. And this presents us with two choices:

We can listen to Him and do the Father's will. We can change and become conformed to Jesus' beauty and goodness...

Or we can try to damage that beauty, destroy that goodness, in a feeble attempt to suppress its judgment of our sinfulness.

But Jesus' divine strategy overcomes our foolishness and our sin. He allows Himself to fall into the abuse and violence of men's hands so that, when they wound Him, they will be covered by the tide of His Precious Blood flowing from Calvary, from this very altar and thousands like it. For His blood has the power of absorbing into its love, and therefore neutralizing, the worst hatred of which we are capable.

Victor Frankl, the Austrian Jewish psychotherapist who spent much of World War II as a prisoner in Auschwitz and other concentration camps, wrote a remarkable book of his experiences called, Man's Search for Meaning. In it he describes how in the midst of unbelievable brutality and the most degrading conditions he found so many examples of remarkable faith and unselfish love. Again and again, Frankl encountered people who had achieved victory over the sinfulness that surrounded them. And out of this experience of abject suffering Frankl had a revelation.

He wrote, "Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love. For the first time in my life I was able to understand the meaning of the words, 'The angels are lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory.'"

And yet so many of us, we who have never known such suffering, never come face to face with the kind of evil Frankl encountered, the kind that Jesus encountered on that first Good Friday...most of us in our sufferings only argue and fight with God.

The Apostles, with the help of the Holy Spirit, eventually came to understand what Jesus meant when He connected the necessity of His suffering with the cross His followers must take up daily.

Let's learn from them and today turn to the Holy Spirit. Invite Him into our hearts, to shape us, to give us the joy that only the love of God can bring.

For the Spirit waits patiently, always listening for our call, always responding to our prayer.

Sunday, August 12, 2018

V. S. Naipaul, R.I.P.

This morning I read that the novelist and Nobel laureate, V. S. Naipaul, died yesterday at his London home. His death occurred just a few days before his 86th birthday. Although a native of Trinidad, Naipaul was of Indian descent, hence his full name: Vidiadhar Surajprasad Naipaul. To his few close friends and acquaintances he was simply "Vidia," a blessing to those with Western tongues. Awarded a government scholarship in 1950, he left Trinidad to study at Oxford and thus began the career of this exceptional man of letters.
Image result for v. s. naipaul
V. S. Naipaul
I first read Naipaul in 1979 when I picked up a copy of his newly published novel, A Bend in the River. I had heard of him, but had never read his work, just a few reviews. But the opinions of the critics were so varied and confusing I decided to sample his work and find out for myself. As I read the opening words of the novel -- "The world is what it is; men who are nothing, who allow themselves to become nothing, have no place in it." -- I was hooked. Those words, although politically incorrect to many, for me had the ring of worldly truth. Yes, indeed, despite our personal hopes and dreams, "the world is what it is," and Naipaul spent his literary life describing his take on that reality to his readers. 

Although I'm not a Naipaul fanatic, I 've probably read a dozen or more of his books, and enjoyed every one of them. But Naipaul was more than a novelist, and wrote a number of fascinating books describing the places, people, and cultures he encountered during his extensive travels. His observations, opinions, and conclusions often surprise, and sometimes irritate, but always force me to examine my own attitudes and judgments.  Some critics, of course, objected to his cultural characterizations and plastered him with negative labels, apparently hoping that some might stick. He's been called a racist, a misogynist, an Islamophobe, a Hindu nationalist, and more...I've always thought of him as a man who told the truth as he saw it. Can we ask anything more of a writer than this?

If you haven't read Naipaul, by all means do so. I especially enjoyed his semi-biographical novel, The Enigma of Arrival, as well as his much earlier work, A House for Mr. Biswas. Among his non-fiction works, I suppose my favorites include Among the Believers: An Islamic Journey; The Middle Passage; and A Turn in the South.

My bookshelves house 10 volumes of Naipaul's works and, coincidentally, they reside on the same small shelf with about a dozen of Evelyn Waugh's books. Despite their widely varied backgrounds, the two men had much in common. Each could be included among the best writers of his time. Each wrote wonderful novels, often based on his own life experiences. And each wrote exceptional works of non-fiction describing his travels in culturally distant lands. 

Interestingly, both Waugh and Naipaul have also been described as personally irascible, as curmudgeons with few close friends. I can't and won't judge another based on his personality, assuming that what we see of another is rarely an accurate reflection of his true self. Anyway, I would much rather have a handful of close friends who accept me for who I am, than be surrounded by a flock of chirping, faithless acquaintances who come and go with the seasons. 

Religiously the two men were far apart. Although Naipaul often criticized the religious values held by many today, particularly among those who practice Islam, I don't know if he were a man of faith. One can certainly be personally unpleasant and still be an active believer. After all we are all sinners. Evelyn Waugh, of course, was a convert to Catholicism. Once, when asked how he could justify his nasty disposition with his Catholic faith, Waugh replied, "You have no idea how much nastier I would be if I were not a Catholic. Without supernatural aid I would hardly be a human being." Waugh, too, was a man who spoke the truth as he saw it. 

Rest in peace, Vidia, and thank you for your work that caused so many to reexamine the world in which we live. May God shine His face upon you...