Homily for Mass and Healing Service: Dedication of St. John Lateran Basilica

I have embedded a video of the homily I preached at our semiannual Mass and Healing Service, which fell this year on the feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran Basilica.

The full text of the homily follows the video:

________________

Readings: Ez 47:1-2,8-9,12; Ps 46; 1 Cor 3:9-11,16-17; Jn 2:13-22
________________

“Zeal for your house has consumed me” [Ps 69:10].

John tells us the disciples recalled these words from Scripture as Jesus cleansed the Temple area. But that verse from Psalm 69 concludes with a few more words:

“I am scorned by those who scorn you.”

And, oh yes, how Jesus was scorned: scorned by those who should have known better: scorned by those who heard His Word, witnessed His works, and yet rejected His gift of Faith. That rejection continues, both within and outside the Church, the Church He founded 2,000 years ago.

Today, on this great feast, we remember that even though no building could ever be large enough to contain our God in His divine greatness, still He makes Himself present to us in the most human way, under the appearances of bread and wine. In its earliest days the Church celebrated Christ’s Presence in the smallest of churches, the homes of the faithful, where communities gathered for prayer and the breaking of the Eucharistic Bread. As the Church grew, so too did the number and size of the places where it gathered to meet with God. 

Today we celebrate the dedication of the greatest basilica of them all, St. John Lateran, the cathedral of the Diocese of Rome where Pope Francis, the Bishop of Rome, formally presides. Because it dates back to the 4th century, the Lateran Basilica is really the mother of all churches. Known more by is partial dedication to St. John, its full proper name is the Patriarchal Basilica of the Most Holy Savior and Saint John the Baptist at the Lateran. 

Thanks to the gift of the Eucharist, God is equally present in every church, large and small. As St. Paul reminds us, this gathered community is God’s Holy Temple. It is here that we encounter the pouring out of God’s grace, flowing from the sacraments, and presenting us with God’s mercy, healing, and hope. And, oh, does our world need God’s mercy and hope. Perhaps Pope St. John Paul said it best:

“Apart from the mercy of God, there is no other source of hope for the healing of humanity.” 

How wonderful that our last three popes – St. John Paul, Benedict, and Francis – preached and wrote so much about healing…certainly about physical healing, but most frequently about the deeper, inner healing of the spirit. As each has reminded us, when we come to Christ as wounded people in need of healing, all is changed.

Not long ago, Pope Francis said that, when it comes to healing, “You have to start from the ground up.” In other words, we must first accept the need for healing in our own souls, our families, our workplaces, and, yes, in our Church. Then, when we turn to Jesus and follow Him, who knows what miracles might be wrought?

When recovering from substance abuse, most seem to have learned that recovery can’t happen until one accepts that one’s own efforts have been fruitless. But this doesn’t apply only to addictions; no, it applies to all that separates us from God. As the pope said recently:

“It’s useless to think of being able to correct oneself without the gift of the Holy Spirit. It’s futile to think of purifying our heart in a titanic effort of only our will. This is not possible.”

You and I must turn away from ourselves and seek a new way to bring about the healing we need, not the healing we think we want. Until we’re ready to engage God openly and honestly as the imperfect creatures we are, we’ll never know just how close God is to us.\

God isn’t out “there” somewhere. He’s not remote, separated from us at some immeasurable distance. His love for us is so great that He humbles Himself and comes to meet us where we are. Yes, He humbles Himself, just as Jesus humbled Himself, became one of us, came to us as we are in our sinfulness. Just as He allowed that…the Cross [Phil 2:6-11].

Brothers and sisters, we have an awesome God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – a God who presents us with a beautiful paradox: He is a God of unimaginable greatness and indescribable humility. What’s keeping us from opening our eyes to this truth, and our hearts to His merciful Presence? Are there areas of your life, of my life, where we’d rather not be healed? Are these the very things that separate us from God? 

And so, we pray: God of Healing, God of Hope, help us to open our hearts to you and face you unafraid.

Returning again to St. Paul: If we accept that we are God’s Temple and part of its construction, the Holy Spirit dwell within us. How many, here at Mass every weekend, remain on the outside spiritually, looking in, pausing hesitantly at the Church’s threshold? We’re all members of this Temple, body and soul. Don’t settle for just observing from the threshold. To achieve healing, enter with hopeful hearts and approach the God who waits to welcome us.

Are we close to God in prayer? Or do we stand at the doorway, unsure of God’s love and forgiveness?

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you” [Mt 7:7].

Jesus promised this.

We pray: God of Healing, God of Hope, guide our steps across the threshold, from fear to trust, from sorrow to joy.

Do we stand at the threshold satisfied with the externals, the wrapping of the gifts before us. Like Ezekiel, we see the healing waters at the entrance of the Temple. But are we afraid to step in, to go deeper into the amazing gift of God’s grace?

In the Gospel Jesus draws near and says, “Do you want to be healed?” And to those who reply, “Yes,” He gives grace and sends them on their way. Here we see the power and depth of Jesus’ healing. 

When Jesus healed, He always healed more than the body; He forgave sins, healing the soul. When He healed the blind, He restored more than the sense of sight. He also awakened the gift of faith. And God does the same for us. Jesus offers something far greater than physical healing, for He heals both body and soul, offering us a serenity of spirit and a desire to share this gift with others. Jesus prays, and Jesus heals. He prays and heals here in His Church, as we gather in His Name.

Consider a time when your own prayer was answered, but not as you expected. That’s the gift of God’s healing at work, always surprising, blessings in marvelous disguise. It’s this grace that gives us the power to take the next step – of appreciating and offering thanksgiving for all God gives us. To open God’s gifts means accepting the responsibility to use them well. Am you and I ready to open the gifts that God offers us? 

God of Healing, God of Hope, I am as blind as the blind beggar. Help me to see your presence, to want your gift of grace!

In our humanity we demand that God see things our way, that He fix everything just as we want. But God always leads us in a different direction. He begins by forgiving our sins and healing that which so often keep us from God, He removes our fear and shame through His mercy and forgiveness. 

If we approach Him with a genuine desire to be forgiven, if we accept God’s desire to embrace us, we then begin to heal from the inside out. Jesus begins our inner healing through the sacrament of reconciliation, and through that forgiveness, He creates us anew, so we can share the good news of healing with others. 

God of Healing, God of Hope, give me the courage to face my weaknesses, to accept my failings, and to welcome your healing. Fill me with the wonder of trusting you.

Brothers and sisters, by sacrificing His life for us all, Jesus opened the doors to the heavenly paradise. And through His Resurrection, He destroyed death forever and gave us hope! He wants us to seek His healing grace.

So, let the re-creation begin here today! 

So You Wanna Be A Socialist?

A few years ago, while speaking with a young person who was entering her senior year at a large state university, I suggested that the average high-school graduate from say, 1920 to 1960, was far better educated than the average college graduate today. She responded by saying that, in effect, I was insane: "That's crazy! You really can't believe that..." And so I asked this person a few seemingly simple questions, the kind that a high-school graduate should be able to answer. I began with a series of questions on US history, very basic questions, nothing complex:

• In what year was the Declaration of Independence written? Who was its primary author? From what nation did its signers seek independence? Who was the leader of that nation? What war resulted?
• Who were the first three presidents of the United States?
• The War of 1812 was between the United States and what other nation? 
• During what years did our nation engage in the Civil War? Who was president during those years? Name two leading generals, one from each side?
• In what war did the United States engage in 1898? 
• When did the first World War take place? Name at least two nations on each side. Did the United States take part? Who was our president during this war?
• Name two nations that were among the enemies of the United States during World War Two. What event led to our active involvement in this conflict? 

By this time it became apparent that our soon-to-be college graduate -- a psychology major -- was at an embarrassing loss because her only correct answer was the naming of Abraham Lincoln as president during the Civil War. Interestingly, she could not tell me when the Civil War took place. Her guess? "Around 1900." I won't continue the embarrassment by repeating some of her other answers. I suspect she knew even less about world history.

As her historical ignorance became apparent she objected that my questions all demanded knowledge of meaningless facts, "You know, dates, names, stuff like that...Not really important things like concepts or ideas."

I responded by saying that she was right about the importance of ideas and concepts. But I also suggested that to understand those concepts and ideas we must be able to place them in their proper context, the context of time and place, and to connect them to the people who originated and embraced them. After all, that's what history is. If we are unable to do this, to understand the sources and the results of ideas, how can we evaluate their efficacy? Quite simply, if we don't understand history we will quite likely continue to repeat the mistakes of the past. Of course, George Santayana, a man as complex as the times in which he lived, stated this famously when he wrote: 

"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." 

This encounter, admittedly with a single representative of her generation and, I suppose, anecdotal in the extreme, came to mind when I read that 7 in 10 millennials would vote for a socialist. To anyone who understands the nature of socialism, this might seem unbelievable. But not to me. I can think of only two reasons to be a socialist: a desire for power or invincible ignorance.

For the ideologue, socialism becomes a means to achieve power over others, over many others. And to ignorant snowflakes, who rely more on emotion than intellect, socialism sure sounds good, especially if its history can be ignored. That is, of course, the problem. When we examine the history of socialism we find it inevitably leads to massive corruption, slavery, and death. Socialism always rejects freedom.

During the past 100 years our world has come face to face with socialism in its two forms: the national socialism of Hitler's Germany and the international socialism of communism as manifested by Lenin, Stalin, Mao, Castro, and a host of others. Although often considered opposites, at the extremes of right and left, there's really little difference between the two.

Jesus actually warned us of these evils and provided a key to recognizing them when, in His "Sermon on the Mount," he said:

"Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but underneath are ravenous wolves. By their fruits you will know them" [Mt 7:15-16].

And the fruits of Nazis and communists are remarkably similar: the murder of tens of millions of innocents and the enslavement of hundreds of millions more. Socialism in all its forms places the good of the state -- perhaps, more accurately, the good of those who wield the power of the state -- above all else. Those pesky values we hold dear -- freedom, truth, faith, justice, family, civilization, etc. -- become expendable, sacrificial victims offered to the false gods of socialism.

Socialism is hostile to life and faith. It simply cannot accept Almighty God, the Word, as the supreme good and will always make individual life subservient to the state. Just consider the leftists running for president today. All appear to be farther to the left than President Obama, and none are pro-life.

Our God clearly places the decision before us:

"See, I have set before you life and good, death and evil...Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, by loving the Lord, your God, obeying His voice, and holding fast to Him" [Dt 30:15,19-20].

How to educate a millennial, and whatever a member of the next generation is called? I haven't a clue. They certainly won't receive a proper education at a public high school or by attending one of our colleges or universities. Most of these institutions abandoned education decades ago in favor of indoctrination and job or professional training. I'd suggest  encouraging your favorite millennial to read books such as Anthony Esolen's The Politically Incorrect Guide to Western Civilization, but in these days of 140-character tweets, reading a book might be asking too much.

Maybe we're simply doomed as a civilization, and some future generation will have to pick up the pieces and begin anew, assuming our merciful God, the Lord of History, doesn't end it all before then.

We certainly live in interesting times. All we can do is preach the Word, follow and live the Way, pray for civilizational healing, and keep the Faith.

Homily: Monday, 31st Week in Ordinary Time

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

______________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In other words, their being there is thanks enough.

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

we?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His Timing

His Way

His Story

His Glory

Yes, indeed, it's all His.

Homily: Monday 29th week in Ordinary Time

I've posted a video of this homily below. It was preached  a couple of weeks ago, on Monday of the 29th week in Ordinary Time, but I just realized I had the video. The complete text follows the video.

______________________

Readings: Romans 4:20-25; Luke 1:69-75; Luke 12:13-21

Some years ago, I read these words. I don’t recall who wrote them, but I jotted them down. Today’s Gospel brought them to mind.

First, I was dying to finish high school and start college.

Then I was dying to finish college and start working.

Then I was dying for my children to grow old enough to go away to college

Then I was dying to retire.

And now I’m dying…

and suddenly I realize that I forgot to live.

The man Jesus describes is much like that, isn't he? He's the kind of person many admire, regardless of the time and place, but he’s also a man who forgot to live. That he was seen as successful was due largely to his obvious wealth. He worked hard, planned for the future, invested well, and seemingly secured himself a comfortable retirement. But from a Christian perspective, his life was a mess, driven by seriously misplaced priorities. 

First, he never saw beyond himself. His plan of life was a constant repetition of “I” and “my”. “I”, the shortest word in the English language, and requires just one stroke of the pen, perhaps an indication of its relative importance. Secondly, he refused to see beyond this world, and based his security entirely on his wealth.

The world hasn’t really changed much, has it? For many today, no less than it was for the rich fool of the Gospel, the driving force is to build better and bigger barns, to create increasingly more personal wealth.

Now wealth, in itself, isn’t an evil. But when it’s misused…when it’s seen as an end in itself and not a means to help others…when it’s unjustly accumulated at the expense of others…when greed and envy become the guiding forces in its acquisition…then it leads to evil.

During my years in corporate America I encountered more than a few men and women very much like the rich man in the Gospel. Indeed, Jesus’ message is nothing new. Greed and avarice will always be with us. So too will those who let their wealth and their property own them.

The psychology of possession is full of paradoxes. Those driven by greed to collect riches end up proving how poor they are. For them, no amount of wealth is sufficient, for no amount ever brings true happiness. How sad for them. They devote their lives to adding zeroes to their net worth – so much work for just another zero!

Remember, too, Jesus preached this parable to people who were far from rich, even by the standards of their day. But one doesn’t have to be rich to be greedy. Greed and meanness are among the most common of human failings and aren’t confined to the wealthy. We can all succumb in our struggle to earn our daily bread. The only difference between the greedy rich man and the greedy poor man is that the former succeeded in turning his greed into wealth. But in their greed, both behave as if they will live forever.

When the man in the Gospel unexpectedly encounters death, his true poverty is exposed. Suddenly, his wealth means nothing, its value eclipsed by the person he had become.

Those whom the world sees as successful can be abject failures in the deepest sense because they try to live without God’s sustaining power. Jesus is warning us against going it alone, trying to hold the future in our own hands, of focusing only on our possessions and life’s comforts, of wasting our time on that which doesn’t last.

We need the humility to recognize that our planning may be futile, and the courage to trust that the Good Shepherd continues to lead and guide us along paths we cannot wholly anticipate, let alone understand.

Self-sufficiency is one of the great myths of our time. Just as “with God, nothing is impossible,” so too without Him, nothing lasting is possible. There’s a hunger today for more than bread, more than possessions. We are created as spiritual beings and the only truly satisfying nourishment – God’s word poured into our hearts -- comes to us from the one who is pure spirit. 

Let’s pray that we strive always to seek God’s will for us

…that we will not arrive at the end of our lives having forgotten to live

...and that we may live well so we won’t be afraid to die.

Happy All Saints Eve and All Saints

[Thursday Afternoon] 

I've been more than busy lately, so the blog has received little attention. Just as well...it's mostly drivel anyway. I'm don't know why I continue. Perhaps I don't want to know. Vanity just might be involved. Maybe I'll give it a rest, now that I've achieved senior deacon status by reaching the 3/4 century mark. Rest is good, both physical and mental, but I think I just need a spiritual boost, some quiet time with our Lord -- no phones or iPads or laptops or blogs... Another retreat perhaps? We'll see.

But today I'm actually well rested. I'm awake and aware of my surroundings, having taken a rare short nap after an enjoyable morning at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen and a meeting of the parish Faith Formation team. In truth, my work at the soup kitchen really isn't all that tiring or taxing. Over the years I've recruited several other men to help out with the heavy lifting on Thursday, thus allowing me to spend my time supervising, leading our brief morning prayer, making preparations for meal deliveries to 200+ shut-ins, answering the phone, receiving donations, and schmoozing with the guests -- all fairly low-energy tasks. Dear Diane and her team of cooking assistants and servers do all the hard work, preparing and serving the meals. I go home and rest. Diane goes home and collapses. There's a difference.

So, here I am, taking it easy in my down-filled easy chair, but unable to shut off the flow of thoughts that remind me of other stuff I should be doing. I can sense Maddie, the wonder dog, stretched out and sleeping contentedly at my feet. Because on Thursdays she must remain here alone for as long as seven hours, when we return she meets us at the door with mixed emotions. Although she greets us joyfully -- wagging and licking, jumping and dancing -- she must still express her displeasure at having been left alone for so long. And so, she barks. She barks her angry bark just to let us know the queen is not amused. But now, having been reunited with her pack, fed, and walked, she is a happy dog and so she sleeps. She sleeps the sleep of an uncluttered mind and a clear conscience. Would that I could do the same.

My rest will be short-lived, however, since I will assist the pastor at the 6:00 p.m. Vigil Mass for the Solemnity of All Saints. It's also Halloween so we'll have to be especially careful driving out there in the real world, beyond the borders of The Villages. Many families with young children live near our church and the costumed youngsters will be out in force trick or treating in the dark. Halloween celebrators tends to avoid The Villages. In fact, in the 15 years we've lived here no one has ever come to our door on Halloween. Of course, we always buy some candy...just in case.

Just a guess, but I expect perhaps nine of ten people who take part in Halloween festivities don't know that it's name is a compression of All Hallows Eve, or the Eve of All Saint's Day, November 1. 
_______________

[Friday Morning]

Well, my afternoon was interrupted yesterday by a series of phone calls that demanded attention and kept me from returning to this post. By the time Diane and I returned home from the Vigil Mass, I had to take Maddie for her evening stroll through the neighborhood. Dodging old folks in their golf carts ain't easy. But having survived our walk, Maddie and I were tired and it was getting late, so I eased my brain into standby mode and just watched what Diane and I call the LOS, or least objectionable show, on TV. For me this was the Thursday Night NFL game between the Forty-Niners and the Cardinals. I lasted until the end of the first half and then went to bed. 

And so, back to All Saints...a wonderful solemnity that has unfortunately been eclipsed in our society by a gross distortion of its Vigil called Halloween. I don't have a problem with children having some Halloween fun by dressing up in scary costumes and filling their bags with begged candy and other goodies. But are they aware that this strange activity evolved from the tradition of praying for and honoring the faithful departed? In some Christian cultures that involved visiting cemeteries and decorating the graves of relatives. I suppose the idea of dressing up as ghosts and witches and goblins was simply a manifestation of related superstitions that emerged over time. I'm no Halloween historian, so this is just a guess.

But all Saints Day, as we tend to call it, is so much more than the day after Halloween. It's a day to reflect on all saints, those few that the Church recognizes and the millions of others who now enjoy God's Presence. It's a day to thank God for the saints we have known, the saints who have touched our lives with their holiness, the saints who have helped us along our own journey to salvation. The Church by canonizing a saint does nothing for the saint, who is already with God. No, the Church canonizes saints for us, for she hopes to inspire us to strive for the holiness that is our true destiny. This is why we chant the beautiful and moving Litany of the Saints during the Church's most solemn liturgical celebrations. The Litany of the Saints is the roster of the Church's hall of fame, its family album, the names of those who form the core of that "great cloud of witnesses" so eloquently described in the Letter to the Hebrews [Heb 12:1]. 

An aging Jesuit, who taught me the New Testament when I was an ignorant 18-year-old, had spent years in a Communist Chinese prison. Once, while speaking of St. Peter, a man plagued by doubts and fears and so often lacking in faith, this saintly priest reminded us that "all saints are sinners, but not all sinners are saints."

The difference, he went on to tell us, is that the saints recognize, understand, and repent of their sinfulness because they accept the Father's gifts of grace, mercy, and forgiveness, and because they recognize the Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ. More than anything else, they desire union with Jesus Christ, and so they struggle mightily in the lifelong process of conversion to which we are all called. The others, he said, not only don't recognize the Son, but too often fail even to recognize their sinfulness for what it is. That, he believed, is an eternal sadness.

We are all called to be saints, to be one with Jesus Christ. But even now, in this life, we are united with the Communion of Saints and with Jesus in God's family, the Mystical Body of Christ, the People of God, the Church in heaven and on earth. In this way, you and I are truly a part of All Saints. By our baptism we were sanctified, made holy, deep down in grace. We're no longer banished, disaffected children, outside the family of God. No indeed, we're in! We're in God's family as adopted children of the Father, We're in God, all of us together, because we're in Jesus Christ.

Re-reading Good Books

Lately I've been re-reading books I first read years ago. I often decide to read a book again because I enjoyed it so much the first time and simply want to experience it afresh. This is more often the case with fiction. And, yes, in a few instances, because of my aging memory, I'm unable to describe specifically why a book once pleased me. In other words, I've forgotten the details, but I know I enjoyed it and hope to do so once again. I am rarely disappointed. But in truth, every good book deserves a re-reading. I really believe this. In fact, there are books on my shelves that I've read three or four times, and some even more. We read good poetry again and again, so why not good prose? 

Of course as Christians we spend many hours re-reading Sacred Scripture; or at least we should. How did St. Paul put it?

"All scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for refutation, for correction, and for training in righteousness" [2 Tim 3:15].

Now, it seems to me, to reap such a harvest from the Bible demands a lifetime of reading and re-reading. Of course, some might disagree. For example, not long ago, in a casual conversation with a parishioner, I happened to mention our parish Bible Study and suggested he might enjoy taking part. He laughed, shook his head, and replied, "No need. I read the entire Bible, from beginning to end, many years ago. No reason to do that again." This comment began a brief, interesting, and very civil argument, an argument which I apparently lost since he has yet to attend our Bible Study.

Anyway, this all came to mind just minutes ago when I glanced at the stack of books piled high on the end table beside my easy chair. I'm always reading several books and those in this stack are the current crop. Surprisingly -- and it surprised even me -- of the seven books I'm now reading, four are re-reads. And so, today I thought I'd share these titles with you and offer my reasons for giving these books more than a single reading.

The first is The Building of Christendom, Volume 2 of a sweeping, six-volume History of Christendom written by Warren H. Carroll (1932-2011). Dr. Carroll, who founded Christendom College (Front Royal, Virginia) in 1977, wrote what I believe is the most extensive and the best modern history of the Church. It rivals the earlier, equally monumental, multi-volume History of the Church of Christ written by the French historian, Henri Daniel-Rops, between 1948 and 1965. 

Dr. Warren Carroll

I purchased and read each volume of Dr. Carroll's history as it was published (1985 to 2013). The final volume was completed by Anne Carroll after her husband's death in 2011 and published several years later. Each volume is not only thorough in its coverage, but also beautifully written -- real page-turners, which is remarkable for a six-volume history of over 3,000 pages. 

I especially recommend the volume I'm currently re-reading, Volume 2, which spans the years 324 to 1100. It reminds the modern reader that the Church has suffered far greater problems than those it currently faces. And through it all the Church survived these problems not because of men and their feeble attempts to solve them, but because of Jesus' promise to be with "you always, until the end of the age" [Mt 28:20]. 

The second book in my end-table stack is The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion, written by Dr. Mircea Eliade (1907-1986), former University of Chicago professor and chair of the university's Department of the History of Religions. If you happen to have read Rudolf Otto's classic examination of the basis of humanity's religious beliefs, The Idea of the Holy, you will also enjoy Eliade's book. 

Dr. Mircea Eliade

I decided to reread the book because we have been studying the Torah (or Pentateuch) in our parish Bible Study. The Mosaic descriptions of early Jewish and pagan religious belief and practice found in these first five books of Sacred Scripture led me back to The Sacred and Profane, where Eliade delves deeply into humanity's ancient memory of the sacred and its impact on today's largely profane world. It's really a marvelous book.

The third book in my stack, Richard the Third, written by Paul Murray Kendall (1911-1973), was first published in 1955. For centuries, Richard, the last of the Plantagenet kings, has been portrayed as a miserable, murderous fiend. Even William Shakespeare allowed himself to be tutored by the Tudors and depict Richard in a most unfavorable light. 

Dr. Paul Murray Kendall

Dr. Kendall, however, invites you to forget all the distorted history written about the defeated by the victors and just examine the facts. Extremely well-written, this is among my favorite biographies and certainly deserves a re-read, especially since it's been a good 25 years since I last turned its pages.

Another good reason to read the book once again is the recent (2012) discovery of Richard's remains near what was once the Greyfriars friary in Leicester, England. Richard, who was killed in the Battle of Bosworth, was apparently taken to the friary and quickly buried. Thanks to that truly miserable Tudor king, Henry VIII, the friary was demolished, along with all the other monasteries in the 1530s. After archaeologists located the site of King Richard III's grave (under a Leicester car park), scientists confirmed the identity of his remains via DNA and other evidence. 

The discovery led to a series of predictable controversies. Richard was very much a Catholic king, and the current monarchy is very Anglican, or at least purports to be. Where, then, should King Richard be interred? Suddenly everyone seemed to want the dead king's bones. What about a royal burial? He was, after all, a King of England. Queen Elizabeth II, perhaps thinking of her predecessor, that other Elizabeth, quickly quashed the idea. 

In my opinion -- although I wasn't consulted -- Richard should have been interred in a Catholic church after a suitable Catholic funeral Mass. A Mass was actually celebrated by Cardinal Nichols, Archbishop of Westminster, at Holy Cross Priory in Leicester. But ultimately, in typically English fashion, it was decided to have an ecumenical service in Leicester Cathedral (Anglican) where Richard was entombed on March 26, 2015. Of course, all of this occurred long after the author of this biography had gone to his eternal reward. I wonder what Kendall, a professor of English at Ohio University, would have thought of all the hubbub surrounding the discovery of Richard more than 500 years after his untimely and tragic death.

The fourth book in the stack is The Battleground by Hilaire Belloc, the great English Catholic writer of the last century. My book shelves hold more than 30 of Belloc's books, but this just might be my favorite. It tells the story of the Holy Land and the religions that have battled for supremacy in this rather tiny but obviously precious chunk of earth. As an archaeologist friend once remarked to me, "They don't call it the Holy Land for nothing." Yes indeed.

Hilaire Belloc

Again, it was our examination of the Pentateuch in our parish Bible Study that reminded me of this work by Belloc and led me to turn to it once again. Although published in 1936, the book's message is perhaps more applicable today than it was when Belloc first wrote these words:

"That same force which destroyed the Crusades is present in Syria today, and it is as active as ever. It is disarmed, or partly disarmed, on the material side; but spiritually it is sufficiently armed. Whether Islam throughout the eastern world, from the Atlantic to the Ganges, will recover material equality with us of the West we cannot tell; but there is no rational basis for denying the possibility of that resurrection."

And because of the West's unwillingness to recognize that the current conflict is, at its very roots, a religious conflict, I expect that resurrection to continue. Perhaps I'll actually address my understanding of the unstable relationship that has always existed between Islam and the two faiths that arose out of the Holy Land: Christianity and Judaism. Let me just say, my beliefs are certainly not politically correct.

God's peace...