Since February, I’ve become pastor of Saint Joseph and Saint Peter’s Catholic Churches in Delano, Minnesota, a town on the outskirts of the Twin Cities, 40 minutes west of downtown Minneapolis. It’s been a great fit.

Now that it’s November, our readings take a turn to focus on the last things of death, heaven and hell, and take a tone of being ready for those moments in our lives. That can be challenging as it’s easy to think death is very far away. It may be, but we have to be ready.

So what if you die kind of unprepared? Is all lost? I think this is where God’s love takes over. This week’s Gospel was of 10 bridesmaids who were waiting for the groom’s arrival for a wedding to begin; 5 were ready, 5 were not. The 5 who were not ready get shut out of the party when he arrives, as they were not there. It can be scary to hear, but we must remember as well how merciful and compassionate God is. In all of us is a bit of oil if you will and sometimes we just need to learn how to use it better and know where to go to buy more. The Gospel can be found here: http://usccb.org/bible/readings/110611.cfm.

Catholics believe that if there’s some work to do after death yet, we learn how to love God fully by having God purge from our souls that which prevents us from loving Him as we should – “Purgatory” is the name for the process. But it can be so misunderstood; for it is a place of joy and God’s love, not the equivalent of the workhouse for a lighter offense compared to the super-max facility that is hell.

Here’s my homily for this week. Have a blessed day! – Fr. Paul (Story at the start is taken from “A Second Help of Chicken Soup for the Soul.” The books have wonderful stories to start homilies or to just inspire.

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During Napoleon’s invasion of Russia, his troops were battling in the middle of yet another small town in the endless winter, when he was accidentally separated from his men. A group of Russian Cossacks spotted him and began chasing him through the twisting streets. Napoleon ran for his life and ducked into a little furrier’s shop on a side alley. As Napoleon entered the shop, gasping for breath, he saw the furrier and cried piteously, “Save me, save me! Where can I hide?” The furrier said, “Quick, under this big pile of furs in the corner,” and he covered Napoleon up with many furs.

No sooner had he finished than the Russian Cossacks burst in the door, shouting “Where is he? We saw him come in.” Despite the furrier’s protests, they tore his shop apart trying to find Napoleon. They poked into the pile of furs with swords but didn’t find him. Soon, they gave up and left.

After some time, Napoleon crept out from under the furs, unharmed, just as his personal guards came in the door. The furrier turned to Napoleon and sad timidly, “Excuse me for asking this question of such a great man, but what was it like to be under those furs, knowing that the next moment would surely be your last?”

Napoleon drew himself up to his full height and said to the furrier indignantly, “How could you ask such a question of me, the Emperor Napoleon! Guards, take this impudent man out, blindfold him and execute him. I, myself, will personally give the command to fire!”

The guards grabbed the poor furrier, dragged him outside, stood him up against a wall and blindfolded him. The furrier could see nothing, but he could hear the movements of the guards as they slowly shuffled into a line and prepared their rifles, and he could hear the soft ruffling sound of his clothing in the cold wind. He could feel the wind tugging gently at his clothes and chilling his cheeks, and the uncontrollable trembling in his legs. Then, he heard Napoleon clear his throat and call out slowly, “Ready…aim…” In that moment, knowing that even these few sensations were about to be taken from him forever, a feeling that he couldn’t describe welled up in him as tears poured down his cheeks.

After a long period of silence, the furrier heard footsteps approaching him and the blindfold was stripped from his eyes. Still partially blinded by the sudden sunlight, he saw Napoleon’s eyes looking deeply and intently into his own – eyes that seemed to se into every dusty corner of his being. Then Napoleon said softly, “Now you know.”

Thankfully most of us do not go through such a stressful situation as the poor furrier in the story, but despite his rather cold way of teaching, Napoleon’s lesson to the furrier is worth thinking about, because none of us knows when our last moments on this earth will come. Most anyone would be upset and nervous if faced with the sudden prospect of dying like the furrier, but one thing that we can do is to prepare for that moment, which is what is at the heart of this weeks Gospel.

A story is told of a wedding feast. The groom is coming, but no one knows when. It might sound foreign to those of us who are used to getting an invitation and getting ready for a big event, but this kind of wedding feast was common in ancient Palestine. A couple would not honeymoon, but have a week-long celebration at their home with many visitors. In fact, a tradition that is still done had bridesmaids keep the bride company until the groom arrives. The bridal party would wait for the groom, and this may be anytime over a period of several days. A man would go ahead to announce the arrival of the groom, but it could even be in the middle of the night – so the party would have to be ready if he chose to come in the middle of the night. No one was allowed on the streets after dark without a lit lamp, and once the groom arrived and the celebration began, late-comers could not come into the ceremony. One had to prepare and be ready at any moment.

These days we don’t do weddings like this in our culture; we know when the wedding is going to happen months in advance, and have everything carefully planned for the event. But the parable applies to us because the bridegroom is Christ and the bridesmaids are you and me, the people awaiting Christ’s return. We still await that, and one way or another we all stand before Christ. The thing is, death for many seems out there and distant. Certainly the furrier didn’t think it would come for him anytime soon. And while there was no way for him to prepare for what Napoleon did to him, there are ways that we can prepare for our encounter with God, for while we should not live as though death is right around the corner, we should live as if we know its coming.

For one, we need to remember that there are things that we can’t magically get at the last minute. Think back to school. Did you ever try to study for a test just a few minutes before the day of the exam? Odds are that probably did not result in the grade you wanted. The same is true with skills for sports and hobbies, but it’s also true with how we form our souls. A person doesn’t change overnight – rather they are formed over a lifetime. We need to use our time here on earth to prepare for our encounter with God by trying our best to change for the better. This happens when people gradually do things like incorporate prayer into their lives; when they take steps to move past habitual sins; or when they take their faith seriously by coming back to Church, or find new ways to live it out during the week. These are things which others might help us with, but ultimately are things we have to make a decision for or against. The bridesmaids couldn’t borrow the oil they needed, and similarly, we can’t borrow a relationship with God; that’s something we need to possess on our own. We also can’t borrow character; that’s something we develop – and we use our lives to develop them.

The thing of it is though is for many of us, that development continues after death. The Church gives the name to this process “Purgatory.”

You rarely hear this talked about anymore from the pulpit, mostly because people often have a really big misunderstanding of it. Most people think of it like the first-ring suburb of Hell, but it is anything but that. Purgatory, rather, is all about hope and the unbelievable mercy of our God. In John Paul II’s words: “Those who after death exist in a state of purification are already in the love of Christ.” They are already in Christ’s love – they are just doing the final preparation for theHeavenlyKingdom. So how does this final preparation work?

We often interpret that final preparation though as perhaps hanging around a miserable waiting room for one’s number to be called, or perhaps like a concentration camp. Scripture speaks of a “cleansing fire” but when you say that, just like with Hell, you get the wrong imagery. It’s not about fire or waiting, as when we die we are outside of time, but rather about learning how to purge, the root word of purgatory. In writing on it, then-Cardinal Ratzinger said: “There is no fire, only the Lord Himself.”

Think for a minute again back two weeks, when in our Gospel, we heard Jesus stress how we must love of God with your whole heart, mind and soul, and then to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. If I were to ask for a show of hands, I think everyone’s hand would go up when I asked “who here loves God?” But do we fully? Probably not, for as humans, our hearts can be divided. The pope says that for our full assent of faith to emerge, it is “only with difficulty” and that we need an encounter with the Lord to transform us, to remove all the muck that builds up over a lifetime; those loves of self, of sins such as pride or of the flesh. Despite the sins and despite forgiveness, the effects remain and as such we see His face, asSaint Paulput it, as through a glass darkly. His love is the fire that, the pope says, “burns away our dross and re-forms us to be vessels of eternal joy.” The spiritual life is a series of steps forward with an occasional step back. Purgatory corrects this. It isn’t a matter of time, for it’s not a place where one finishes some kind of sentence. Rather, its a process that involves learning how to let go, of letting the Lord transform us so we can love Him properly. In the words of one preacher, it is not a place where bad people become good people, but where good people become perfected in love. As far as pain, don’t think of it as a physical pain, but rather a blessed pain that, as Pope Benedict says is one where we see the “impurity and sickness of our lives” and where “the holy power of (God’s) love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally ourselves and thus totally of God.” The pain then involves letting go of those things we might cling to that are sinful that keep us from loving God as we should.

While it might sound at first like a frightening parable – we are going to be judged and we do not know when, we have to remember some key things with it. For one, it should be coupled with the words of our second reading: “ if we believe that Jesus died and rose, so too will God, through Jesus, bring with him those who have fallen asleep” and that we should not be like those who have “no hope.” Jesus is always reaching out to us, and rarely do we shut him out of our lives completely. I think for many, there is some oil they have accumulated over the course of a lifetime. We buy more oil on our earthly journey by growing in grace, by receiving the sacraments and living out the faith. But when the bridegroom arrives, I don’t think we are left out in the dark. Rather, before going to the dinner party, we might be asked to wait to come in so we can learn to have the oil we have been given to burn even brighter. That, in a nutshell, is what purgatory can be defined as: a place for the learning process to unfold. And we do not learn alone. We celebrated All Soul’s Day this week and pray for the dead during the month of November because, in the Holy Father’s words, we aren’t isolated from one another. Humans are “related to others by love or hate” When we die we are judged by Christ, but also by His whole body, meaning the saints. That is why we ask for their intercession. We also pray for the dead because love knows no limits, including death. Think about how we constantly pray for one another over the course of our lives. The temptation might be to think that death is the endgame and that there is nothing more we can do for the person. But we see this happen in the Bible, such as in the book of Maccabees where the soldier Judas takes up a collection to offer sacrifice for the dead, and prays for the dead along with the other soldiers. This is something that has continued from the earliest years of the Church up until today, where a Mass is often offered for someone who has died. The challenge for us is to also keep it up in our personal lives, because the message we so often encounter is that death is something not to be talked about and forgotten. But that’s not the Christian message.

For a time in my life, I struggled accepting Purgatory because it seemed to diminish what happened on the Cross. But what I needed was the proper perspective on it. Christ took my sins upon Him and made my entrance into Heaven possible. But I also bear responsibility for my sins. He might provide the oil, but I need to obtain it over a lifetime. The Eucharist and Confession may remove the sin, but the effects of my sins still remain. Think for a minute how often we confess the same things again and again. We have that thorn in our side that we want gone, but we can’t seem to pull out. So many sins are habitual – profanity, lying, sins of the flesh, etc. – and we never really fully stop being attracted to them over a lifetime. Purgatory helps us learn how to finally pull the thorn out.

It was about 5 years ago around this time of year that I was walking into a Target near my parents home. There was a young man about 20 or so sitting on a chair in front of the store. I walked by him not knowing why he was there, but thinking maybe I should talk to him as he could be doing a fundraiser for the homeless or some kind of food drive, as people generally don’t sit on a lawn chair in front of a Target, especially November. I walked out and a store employee followed me and walked up to him. He said to him, “are you here for the Wii?” referring to the new Nintendo Wii that was to be released the next morning. Indeed he was, and he was the first person in the line. There’s nothing sinful about waiting in line for a Wii; I have one at the rectory, and I’ve waited in lines for things much more wonderful than a Wii, called Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Ninetendo Wii’s though wear out over time, and a new system will eventually be released by the company, with the Wii left to collect dust in a basement much like my old Atari and original Nintendo do currently in my parent’s basement. Even wonderful Krispy Kreme folded here in Minnesota, though doughnuts of good quality can still be found. Such things of this world are wonderful to enjoy, and while it’s fun to get better at a video game or mentally prepare for a hot glazed doughnut, there is only one thing that can give us lasting happiness, which is heaven. All of us have been given an invitation to the banquet table, and the celebration will be beyond anything we can imagine. Our job is to make sure the things of this world are used for proper enjoyment, but that they don’t take us away from keeping our eyes fixed on our ultimate goal of heaven. Hopefully when the bride groom arrives we won’t be looking around for an unopened envelope, but ready to meet Him and prepare for that day not with fear, but with hope, knowing that even if we may not be fully ready for the party just yet, His grace, love and help will be there for us to help us to wear the wedding clothes well and to find the way to the celebration.

I think it comes down to understanding what is meant by love, and making sure we don’t cross over into seeking revenge and taking things up a notch. It’s true we sometimes have to stand up for ourselves, but it’s also true that when someone lets go of hate and tries to bring mercy into the picture, this can bear fruit. I reflected on that this weekend with some help from the late Dr. Martin Luther King, who preached on the very same thing in 1957. Here’s the homily below, which draws on a few of his key points. The bottom line? Don’t be afraid to seek justice, but also remember that mercy can also work wonders – but that it’s a process and what we call “love” really needs to be properly understood.

God bless! – Fr. Paul

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Bruce Murakami is a man who, for three years, was on a quest for justice.

On November 16, 1998, there was a terrible car crash that took place in Saint Petersburg, Florida. A woman and her adopted daughter were hit by another vehicle as she moved through the intersection. The police investigation concluded that the accident was her fault, and not the fault of the driver of the other vehicle. This conclusion was not something Bruce could accept.

The accident consumed him. He quit his job, and pursued a three-year investigation into the accident. He researched it extensively, and hired an independent firm, and he found out that the accident was caused by the other driver, who was in fact drag racing down the street at almost 90 miles an hour. After thousands of dollars spent and three years, he now had the truth. Justice would be served.

The other driver, who was 19 at the time, Justin Cabezas, was charged with vehicular homicide. And it was shortly after he was charged that Bruce met with Justin privately. He asked him if he felt remorse for his actions. But, before the young man could speak, Bruce told him that he had forgiven him. Justin broke down in tears, and Bruce had a change of heart. He pleaded for mercy from the judge. Justin avoided jail time, but as part of his sentence, he was ordered to 2 years house arrest and community service by speaking at Safe Teen Driver presentations. That organization was started by Bruce as a way to help prevent accidents like the one that took the life of his wife and Chelsea, his adopted daughter.

As he looks back on what has happened, Bruce says he wanted someone to be held accountable, and so he hired the lawyer he saw on TV, recommended to him as “the nastiest, most aggressive criminal attorney in Tampa.” With the evidenced gained from the traffic engineering firm that he hired, he was able to get Justin charged. And before he saw him in court, Bruce said he always pictured him as “some spoiled punk kid.” In September of 2001, he saw him for the first time and says “Here was this clean-cut kid with a tie. I thought, this is the kid? He didn’t look like he’d do something so stupid.” The meeting between the two didn’t take place right away. Bruce went home in the early morning, and he says he thought of mercy as well as justice. “I turned on the TV, and the towers were burning,” he says. “It was September 11.”

As far as Justin, the truth is he isn’t a punk kid, but now has a normal life. He works part time as a veterinary technician and managed pet shops in suburban Tampa. As he looks on what happened, he says that “A split-second decision can reverberate through your entire life.” He did not suffer the loss that Bruce did, but his life was on hold. He was told he would not be charged after two years, and then was charged and it took over a year for him to be sentenced. He could have faced up to 30 years, but Bruce, his longtime pursuer, asked for the judge to withhold a finding of guilt and allow Justin to work with him in the program that would become Safe Teen Driver. As such, he got 2 years house arrest, 8 years probation and 300 hours community service.

He didn’t have to continue his service in the program, but he wanted to. Through the program, they’ve expanded to include chapters in New York and Florida, that gives education to young people, and it’s making a difference. Jeff Burton, a pastor at a church where the program was presented, says their story is powerful, to the point and very real. And Justin sees it too. He says that when he stands up in front of a group of teens and tells his story, “There’s this glimmer of hope. Your life feels so much better. It feels so strong, it’s hard to deny.”

Since the formation of the program, both have been featured in national media from Dateline to Good Morning America, and talked to countless teens. But if Bruce, who would have been within his rights to pursue justice to the fullest extent, had pleaded for a harsh sentence, it may very well have been handed down. But instead, many people have been helped because both now work together, and both of their lives are better as well.

What Bruce did is pretty commendable, but it’s also pretty tough. On the one hand, we should have justice and need it. If someone wrongs you, there should be criminal and civil penalties. But on the other hand, as Christians, we are told time and time again to love and forgive. Easy to talk about, a little less easy to put into practice. The question for me as I hear the readings this week, is how does one who professes a faith in Christ embrace justice without letting it turn into a quest for vengeance and how do we incorporate an attitude of love and mercy as a way of our call to holiness?

Leviticus, which our first reading comes from, is a step in the right direction. We are exhorted to not take revenge and cherish no grudge, and to love your neighbor as yourself, but Leviticus is also a very harsh book. It was written around the 6^th century BC, and states that anyone who takes the life of another shall be put to death, and that anyone who injures another human being should be injured in the same way, “fracture for fracture, eye for eye, tooth for tooth: the injury inflicted is the injury to be suffered.” Some Muslim countries embrace that exact kind of justice, but upon first hearing, our reaction could easily be the same. The code of Leviticus is meant to give order to society at the time, so that more vengeance, like that of a mob boss trying to make a statement who goes after other people, doesn’t happen, so it’s in essence ordering restraint – only hurt in return as you have been hurt. But Leviticus also contains mercy, as we hear in how the reading ends with the point made on loving our neighbor. In fact, the chapter goes on to say not just to love our own relatives and friends, but later on in chapter 19, it is stated “when an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress him” but rather “you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.” So, we’ve got loving the people we know, or even strangers. But there is nothing in there about enemies. When Jesus comes into the picture six centuries down the road, he says rather than requiring compensation, overwhelm the wrongdoer with generosity, and give the same justice to your enemy as you do to your neighbor. And then Jesus speaks of turning the other cheek. It’s very counter cultural, both at the time he was speaking it and today. More than likely, our instinct might be to revert back to the pre-Leviticus time, and use force to send a message. To quote Sean Connery as the Irish cop Jim Malone from “The Untouchables,” “You wanna get Capone? Here’s how you get him. He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue! That’s the Chicago way, and that’s how you get Capone!” It might work sometimes, and yes, one does have to sometimes stand up to a bully and even use physical force – even Ingrid Bergman as Sister Benedict had to teach Eddie to fight in “The Bells of Saint Mary’s” to defend himself. But maybe there’s a better way.

I like “The Untouchables” as a movie, and that’s a great scene. But in another movie, “To Kill A Mockingbird,” based on the book, Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch, a respected member of the town, is treated with contempt by some for defending a person of color. A white man comes up to him and spits in his face, and says he is disgusted with him. Peck doesn’t say a word. He simply wipes the spit away from his cheek, and says nothing and does nothing. But it’s clear which man has lost his dignity in the scene. In this sense, Atticus Finch lives out Jesus words to “do not resist evil,” as Jesus teaches a non-resistance to evil in the sense of avoiding physical violence or damages. Jesus, too, is silent when mocked by Herod; and when He is struck by His accusers, He simply says “If I have done any wrong, tell me what it is. If not, why do you strike me?” And after Jesus says, and later does literally, turn the other cheek, He exhorts the people to love your enemy. However, I have a pretty hard time feeling much love for people like Bin Laden or those who want to bring harm to my country. But “love” as it’s meant in the Gospel and “love” as we may use it today can mean different things.

In the Gospel, “to love” means to “wish the wellbeing of.” It’s a unilateral and unconditional desire to wish the wellbeing of another person. It doesn’t mean being in love with them, or having even warm feelings for them or even liking them – but rather doing things such as praying that they might change for our sake and for the sake of other people. Also, when one takes the non-violent approach towards an enemy, it can make sense too. Atticus was dignified at the end of the film, walking out of the courtroom as all the persons of color stood up, and when one doesn’t seek revenge, they come out looking much more heroic and win more hearts. If hate is all that is given back to an enemy, it reduces someone to the level of the person that wronged them. Love and forgiveness of an enemy are in fact possible, and I think there are some practical steps we can take to achieving them.

For help, I turned to a sermon given by Dr. Martin Luther King, who once preached to his congregation on this topic and same Gospel, and he suggests doing a few things. One is taking a hard look at your enemy, and remembering that there may be some good there. He said “every time you begin to hate that person and think of hating that person, realize that there is some good and look at those good points which will over-balance the bad points.” For Bruce, seeing the young man who made a bad decision for the first time and then thinking it over made him realize that Justin may have some good in him, which he found and then put into work by helping teens. For us, more often the enemy may be better stated as the people in life we can’t stand; the annoying boss, the bully at school or work, or even someone in the family. It could be that your boss drives you crazy, but maybe if you look hard enough you might be able to see some good; or that you’re focused on a rift you’ve had with a loved one, but maybe if you think back to the past, you can remember better times and their good qualities that are still there. If you think about the words of Saint Paul in our second reading, “do you not know that you are the Temple of God,” there’s no asterisk there next to “you.” God’s love is equally given to all, and that can be hard to grasp. It could be that over time, someone can change; it just might take kindness, love and mercy to sear through the muck of meanness that we might see on the surface.

Second, as I said, taking “the Chicago way” approach often doesn’t work, but only causes a temporary fix. Resentment, anger and hate can eat away at someone, and if you think you can resolve the situation by giving hate to someone, we ourselves become the victim. It spirals out of control. Dr. King used the example of driving with his brother on a night when many rude people were on the road who refused to turn off their high beams. His brother said the next person who did that he was going to make sure his high beams were on too, but Martin told him to not do that, as there’d be too much light on the highway, and it would end up in mutual destruction for all, and that someone has to have sense on the highway. When we calm down, we can put some sense on the highway of life. Dr. King points out that “there will come a time, in many instances, when the person who hates you the most, the person who has misused you most, the person who has gossiped about you most, the person who has spread false rumors about you most, there will come a time when you will have an opportunity to defeat that person. It might be in terms of recommendation for a job; it might be in terms of helping that person to make some move in life. That’s the time you must do it. That is the meaning of love. In the final analysis, love is not this sentimental something that we talk about. It’s not merely an emotional something. Love is creative, understanding goodwill for all men.” There is some truth to that statement “kill them with kindness,” because over time, you can help kill bad qualities in someone in how we take the higher road rather than fight fire with fire.

And finally, people can be transformed. Last week, when I spoke about Lincoln, I mentioned how both he and Ben Franklin changed as life went on with respect to their views on slavery. Interestingly though, Lincoln himself believed that people could change as well. In his sermon on this Gospel, Dr. King picks up on how Lincoln, when running for office, just like any candidate today, had to deal with negative campaigning. Edwin Stanton was the man’s name, who had many negative things to say about Lincoln during the campaign. After Lincoln is elected, Stanton is picked by Lincoln to serve as Secretary of War. His shocked advisors ask him if he’s aware of what Stanton has said about him, and Lincoln responds: “Oh yes, I know about it; I read about it; I’ve heard him myself. But after looking over the country, I find that he is the best man for the job.” And indeed, he was; he helped guide the North to victory and even changed his political views, becoming a Republican. In Dr. King’s words, “If Abraham Lincoln had hated Stanton, if Abraham Lincoln had answered everything Stanton said, Abraham would have not transformed and redeemed Stanton. Stanton would have gone to his grave hating Lincoln, and Lincoln would have gone to his grave hating Stanton. But through the power of love Abraham Lincoln was able to redeem Stanton.” Stanton went on to be instrumental in helping the Union Army to victory, but it took Lincoln to look past a political opponent and see the good qualities that were there, and how he served in Lincoln’s cabinet is a testament to how Stanton changed from someone focused on making sure Lincoln wasn’t elected to someone who was focused on the same thing Lincoln was: saving the nation.

By following these difficult words of our Lord, we have the power to make such a difference in ourselves and in others. The sad truth is so often, it never gets to that point, as it’s almost instinctual to get back at those who wrong us any way we can. Sometimes you do need to stand up to a bully, and sometimes violence may be needed in war or self-defense. We shouldn’t delude ourselves and think that saying an extra “Hail Mary” for Muslim radicals will instantly change them into welcoming a Catholic church into their neighborhood in the name of tolerance. And we also shouldn’t ever think mercy needs to cancel out justice; indeed justice, giving someone their due, comes before mercy, which goes above and beyond. But my hope is that when we hear this challenging Gospel, we don’t look at it as some pie in the sky thing that is unattainable, because Jesus does not ask us to do the impossible. Rather He invites us to open our eyes and see the best way that we can relate to the people around us.

On a fall day in 1998, a tragic situation happened on a road in Saint Petersburg, and it took 3 years for justice to be served. Mr. Murakami would have been well within his rights to ask for jail time for Justin, and done nothing sinful, for even when he was pursuing him, he was not consumed by hate, but by a hunger for justice. But sometimes when we open our hearts and see someone’s potential as God sees them and past the wrong that they have done or how they may be acting at the moment, something incredible can happen: multiple lives can be changed for the better. Turning your cheek and loving your enemy sound almost impossible to do, but doing so doesn’t negate the need and right for justice. But the even greater need in the world is the need to see what true love looks like in action, and so often our actions to one another, especially to the unpleasant people who are a part of our lives, can do so much to change the world for the better. People looked to the cross and saw a failure; people also looked to the cross and mocked Jesus, who had the power to come down and fulfill the sneers of His enemies, proving who He was. But instead, He asked for forgiveness for those who had brought the crucifixion about, and gave up His Spirit, and in so doing revealed something so powerful that it changed the world: that our God is love. Through our actions with our friends, strangers, and even enemies, giving both justice and mercy and seeing them with the eyes of Christ, we can reveal that truth too and help them to see it.

That being said, the Christmas homily is a tough one to write. People know the story, and people are also looking forward to dinner or Santa, and with the large and mixed group, it’s your one chance to talk to people you might not see every week. I wasn’t sure where to go so I did some reading before I settled on the story of a priest who had a long road to ordination coming from China but did remarkable things with his life and also never gave up, much as God never gives up on us and brought love to the world, just as this man did. I think it went pretty well, and I didn’t see anyone passed out in the pew so that’s good. But you always do see the yawns ).

I actually thought the Holy Family Sunday homily went well too…I feel so strongly on family issues I wish I could have focused on the family to a larger group, but I think it’s so important to build the family up, especially when so many are trying to keep up with jobs, school, practices, appointments and everything else in between. It seems we text more than we actually talk these days (and while I’m only 33, texting is just too much work for me, so just e-mail me or give me a call please!). I thought I’d share both homilies here. I also hope to do more blogging in 2011 and veer off on other topics such as sharing photos, or talking about sports, food, TV or other favorite topics such as doughnuts (well, I suppose that’s food…), bowling, or anything related to the 1980s.

Have a very blessed New Year!

-Fr. Paul

Christmas Homily:

Martyrdom and suffering for the faith has a long history in Christianity. It was in the early centuries that countless people lost their lives because of living out their faith and refusing to reject it, but that all changed when Constantine tolerated Christianity starting in the year 311. From that moment on, Christianity began to spread throughout Europe, and it continues to be the dominant religion in the West to this day. As far as persecution, that might seem like something that was done many years ago, but the sad reality is that it continues in many parts of the world today, including places that are supposedly enlightened, such as China.

After the Second World War, the Communists rose to power in China, and ever since, there has been incredible difficulty for those wanting to practice the faith there. Take the story of Father Guant-Zhong Gu.

It was a warm September morning in September, 1955, when he was in the third year of studies at a seminary, that unfamiliar voices started barking at him to come out. Lights flashed overhead; and he heard the sound of guns clicking and fists pounding at the door. He was rounded up along with other Jesuit priests and teachers, and about 150 in all that day, men, women, laity and clergy were arrested for being Roman Catholic. Herded into a truck, he was taken to a police station where he was in a cell for six months with no court or judge or trial. After six months, he is charged with being a counter-revolutionary, for being part of a counter-revolutionary organization, the Legion of Mary, and for supporting his bishop. The Legion of Mary was a Catholic organization that started in the late 40s in China, when an Irish priest started it as a Catholic youth organization. And so, as a fourth-generation Catholic, Gu naturally joined up as a high school student. This was despite his father, who, while Catholic, was quite fearful of what might happen to his son. As he put it, “Communists don’t like Catholicism.” This was because the Communists supported atheism, and while they might allow for some religion, they do not tolerate dissenting opinions. The State is all-powerful, and as such, to their way of thinking, you cannot also support a pope or bishop, even if their concern is matters of religion and the Kingdom of God. His dad was proven right. Initially there were threats and pressure from the Communists, but Gu remained faithful. The Legion of Mary was declared counter-revolutionary, and the priest who founded it, Fr. McGrath, was arrested. The bishop urged Gu and the others to hold fast, and to be strong and not comply with the Communists. Gu simply said: “I will never surrender.”

To fight the Catholics, Communist officials would selectively target groups, randomly selecting people for arrest who practiced their faith, and Gu was one of the unlucky ones. As a teen, he was arrested once and kept overnight, but this time they would keep him much longer. He went from detention center to detention center, and it was the same routine. One guard screamed that he no longer had a name; another spat on him for praying. His food was placed on the floor, and he had to eat with his hands tied. Eventually he gets sent to Tilanqiao, the Chinese equivalent of Alcatraz, where the worst offenders are kept. Only while at Alcatraz you had a cell, here you were crammed with several men. He was given his sentence while in the cell, not even given a trial. It was five years in prison. Shortly after this he gets placed in a cattle car with other prisoners. They travel for several days, and are sent to a remote prison near the Siberian border, where he worked as brick worker for six months. After this he get sent back to Shanghai, where he finds out someone paid for a lawyer. But he tells the attorney that he doesn’t need one, because all he has to do to get out of prison is to do the same thing the early Christian martyrs did: renounce the faith and surrender. But he refuses to do that. On the day of his trial, he walks into court, makes the sign of the Cross, and refuses to surrender. This leads him to an urban labor camp, where with other Catholics he prays despite the illegality of it. They use stockings and weave the threads together, knotting the silk for a rosary. A letter he was found with at this prison, from another Catholic inmate, stating that they needed to be loyal to the pope and God, and more hardships would follow: he’d be sent to another prison, be put in solitary, and get 7 years added onto his sentence. A typical day was 16 hours of breaking rocks in a steel factory or shoveling a field. Due to a famine that hit the country, because of the government forcing peasants off the fields and into factories leaving no one to harvest or tend to crops, his diet was so poor he was down to 81 pounds.

By 1965, his sentence was finished, but he forever would be considered a post-prisoner; meaning he would have to work at the same places for hardly any money, though every once in a while he could go back home. And on one of those visits, he learned of the underground Church in China.

The government set up a so-called Patriotic Catholic Church, independent of Rome where bishops were appointed by the state, and this still exists. But there was the underground Church, loyal to Rome, and when he learned of it, he came into contact with a priest, who got him in contact with another visiting priest from the Pontifical Institute for Foreign Missionaries. This priest urged him to come to Hong Kong, as Gu still wanted to become a priest and finish his schooling. When Gu told the priest that he was still in labor camp, the priest gave him his address and sewed it into an opening on the inside of his sleeve so that it wouldn’t be found by any officials at the labor camp. Eventually it happened one day that a truck was parked at the front gate. Dressed as a teacher, as he spoke English and taught at the camp, he approached the truck with confidence and asked to be taken to a long-distance bus station. He took with him a battered leather suitcase and a rolled up quilt, all his possessions for 19 years of labor. He’s able to get to a place where he can teach English during the day and study theology at night, using two books given to him by a bishop, and in February of 1988, he was ordained a priest. His brother had made it to the US in 1985, and he sent the address that was pinned inside his coat to his brother in the US to help things get set up. Finally making it to the American consulate, where he shared his story, Gu was allowed to move to Los Angeles after 29 years of suffering for the faith.

I wish his story were isolated, or I could say that things have changed since 1955 when he was first arrested. But recently Newsweek did an article on the situation of Christians in China. They can have some worship, but there is still a lot that must be done in secret. Tucked away in apartments one will find seminaries and house churches, and this happens in a place where the Communist party still only allows atheists in its ranks. Others face harassment; in June of 2003 a group of Christians who showed up to register were told to come for the final steps of the process, came with notarized paperwork that was all finished, and were promptly arrested and sent to re-education camps.

And yet, through all of this, the Church moves on. There are 6 million Catholics in China, 45 million Christians in all. It’s estimated that in the last 20 years, the Church has grown in China more quickly than anywhere else in the world.

I think Fr. Gu’s story, and at a larger level the story of Christianity in China, illustrates in so many ways what Christmas is all about, which is the light dispelling the darkness, no matter how intense it may seem. The reminder we are given each Christmas is that no matter how dark the night may seem, the light of Christ is there. And the challenge we are given is to use what we are given, and to help the world to see the precious gift that is there for the taking: not the historical Infant who was, but who that Infant is: God and His love made manifest in a human being who came to dwell among us and show us how to live.

We are lucky in that we do not have to fear being arrested for professing a faith in the Catholic Church, but fear can be so strong at times. To a point, fear is healthy – for instance in a snowstorm, we fear a slippery road so do the prudent thing and stay home. But fear can also paralyze, and prevent us from taking a needed step. Or sometimes we can fear the unknown, or perhaps fear something about ourselves. What do Adam and Eve do when they become aware of what they’ve done? They hide in shame, and do not want God to know what they have done, out of fear. The Christmas event though helps us to break the cycle of fear.

In the Gospel, we find shepherds in the darkness of the night, and what strikes me when I read this Gospel are the words “they were struck with great fear.” They are accustomed to working and living in the dark; to being on the outskirts of society and probably looked down upon by others. They aren’t used to seeing light, let alone an angel. And fear grips them. But then the angel says to them “Do not be afraid, for behold I proclaim to you good news of great joy.” The angel’s message is worth listening to. “For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord.” The question for us in 2010, is what does that mean? We’ve heard Linus tell the story on the Charlie Brown special year after year. We’re familiar with the nativity scenes, and the placing of Baby Jesus year after year. The temptation might be to think “gee, that’s a nice story, glad to hear it again, let’s get onto the presents and the turkey.” But there’s a reason we need to celebrate this feast year after year, because ultimately what it comes down to is God’s love dispelling the fear.

Like I said, there might not be much to fear for practicing our faith from the State, but just like those shepherds at first, fear can paralyze us. Perhaps we may fear something being found out about our past. Perhaps we might fear that the smiling family on the Christmas card isn’t as great as it seems and others might know about it. Perhaps we fear not making it in college after a rough semester. For some, Christmas is a time to forget about problems, rack up credit card bills, and hide from reality for a little while. For the Christian, Christmas can’t be that. Rather, it needs to be the new reality: the feast that boldly reminds us of how much we are loved, and that God’s love, made manifest, is the key to break the chains of fear.

My hope is that as you celebrate this feast, you let that happen. This feast does not celebrate the Christ who was; rather it celebrates the Christ who is. This might come as a surprise, but I don’t have super-powers as a priest that enable me to see who is someone going to Mass every day or once or twice a year, but no matter what your story is, I hope you know how happy I am you here on this holy night, because the Holy Spirit tugged on your heart and got you to come here. And as you hear these readings told once more, and as you come up to receive Jesus in the Eucharist, know that God loves you for who you are: not just the smiling person on the Christmas card or the person who makes the perfect dinner, but the person who sometimes does things they aren’t proud of, who looks back on 2010 and sees some things they’d like to do differently, or the person who’s been battling that same habitual sin for years. God loves you unconditionally for who you are, and who you aren’t. We can fear sometimes people knowing the whole truth about who we are, but with God, there is no need to pretend. God loves the whole package. This little infant will grow up and eat with sinners and tax collectors; stand by a woman caught in adultery, and forgive everyone who causes Him to be led to his suffering and death. His love is an incredible gift, and we receive it here at Mass, in the Eucharist. Know that Saint Hubert’s and any other Catholic Church is a place where you should feel welcome and at peace, not just at Christmas but any day of the year.

And finally, once the light of Christ’s love fills our hearts and souls, that’s what we do to the world. For Fr. Gu, nothing was going to stand in the way of His love for Christ, and because of the love in his heart and in the hearts of so many, Christianity has continued to spread throughout China. When fear gets in the way, it can be a shade over that love. But when fear gives way to love, something incredible can happen. That is what I’ve seen in my life, particularly over the past two months. As most of you know I’ve been here at the parish for a year and a half, and am starting my fourth year of being a priest. In that time I’ve been through difficult circumstances at times, but was a little unprepared for what unfolded in early November when there was a change here at the parish with the pastor leaving. I went into that situation with, admittedly, some fear and concern about what would happen – how would the people react to what I had to say, and how would the parish respond? There was a little bit of fear there, but what shone show much more brilliantly was love. The people were and have been so supportive of the parish. People came together and prayed, and more than one person stepped up to the plate, from our great staff to the people who fill the pews. The reason that happened was because people at Saint Hubert’s have a love in their heart for God, that is so strong that, just like the love shared between the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, flows outwardly to others. People care about one another here, which is why we thrive as a parish. One life touches so many others. We hear in Isaiah, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone. You have brought them abundant joy and great rejoicing.” For people to see the light, it needs to be shone to them. Fr. Gu had other Catholics there to support him and pray with him and remind him he wasn’t alone, and today, we need to be the light to one another. As I said a couple of weeks ago, the greatest gifts we give aren’t to be found under the tree, but are the presence we give to one another; we are the light that can dispel the darkness. From the kids who worked so hard to sing at Christmas Mass to make the liturgy more beautiful, to the parents who are there for their kids through the sports practices and the homework, to the adult children who check in and assist an aging parent, life gives us so many chances to deliver on the promises that we make when we sign “love” to a Christmas card. The challenge for us is to make sure that love is something we live out not just one day, but 365 days out of the year.

We obviously don’t know the exact date of Christ’s birth, but the reason we celebrate it each December 25^th is because it coincides with the winter solstice, the shortest and darkest day of the year. These days, especially this winter, the cold and the darkness never seem to end. But the truth is longer days and the strength of the sun going higher in the sky each day means that the white and barren landscape outside will spring to life again – it just takes time. Sometimes a soul can also be a dark place, but the truth of it is in each human being, because they are created by God, is the potential for greatness. It just takes His light to help show us how. Despite the forces of Communism that have tried to destroy hope and faith, or the other forces of evil in the world, Christianity still emerges in China because no force can quell the Holy Spirit. But for a gift to be received, it has to be opened. God has given us His love, but He has also given us free will. And so as we celebrate this feast once again, and go home to the dinners, the family traditions, and await the arrival of Santa, hopefully we never forget the true meaning of this feast: the light dispelling the darkness, and use the rest of our lives to let that light shine on our hearts, and use the rest of our lives to help it shine in one another.

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Holy Family Sunday Homily:

Terry Martin’s family from Edmonton, Alberta, had a hard time figuring out what to give one another for Christmas this year. That’s because they really have all they need, which is one another.

It’s been quite a year for the Martin family. Jacquie, Terry’s wife, was diagnosed with a brain tumor, just before his daughter, Natasha, was injured in a car crash and needed emergency surgery. As if this isn’t enough, his son, Jesse, a 22-year old senior who plays hockey for the University of Denver Pioneers, was hurt in an October 30^th game against the University of North Dakota Fighting Sioux, and carried off the ice on a stretcher with a spinal cord injury. Just three days after getting home from visiting Jesse, who had come down to Minnesota for treatment, Terry himself had a heart attack.

In looking at their year, Terry said that they were all having some problems buying Christmas gifts. In his words, “I mean, really, what material things could we give or receive that could provide greater happiness than what we are experiencing by simply being together?” What they’ve found is the gift of family is what matters most. Jesse, who’s recovering, points out that “Like every family, we have had our ups and downs, but the common thread has been that we never forget that we are there for each other no matter what, and we are always able to lean on each other for support. And this support goes beyond the immediate family.

Natasha stayed in Edmonton to help care for her grandmother while Jesse was in Minnesota. And then there has been the hockey family, who have done what they can to help out the family. Jesse says that he has always loved Christmas, “but now you don’t take it for granted – you cherish the time with your friends and family that much more.” And what they’ve seen is through the tragedies that hit them in 2010, each of the four members of that family did what they needed to do. “Somehow, and really without being aware of it, we all seem to offer or derive inspiration when it really matters, each of us sort of taking turns being ‘the rock’ for the family,” says Terry. And because of that, they were able to celebrate Christmas and get through the difficulties, celebrating the gift that they have learned really matters most, which is each other.

Families are an incredible gift, and admittedly they can sometimes drive us up the wall. We fight with one another when we are growing up and then when we grow up. We use passive-aggressive behavior at times, or hold grudges. We argue about the silliest of things, and then are the best of friends again later in the day. But the family is where we learn so much, about life and faith – and that’s why it’s so important to celebrate.

Yesterday, we celebrated the birth of our Lord, and today our Christmas celebration continues as we celebrate the family in which our Lord grew up. And while some might lament commercialization of Christmas, the truth of the matter is I think deep down, most of us are still like the Martins. This fall the Pew Research Center did a survey and found majorities of the population across age segments agreed that family was the most important part of their lives. Seventy-four percent of men and 77 percent of women agreed with that statement. Among 18-29 year olds, most of whom have yet to marry or have kids, 71 said family was the most important to them, and that number jumped to 80% for those between 30-49, and stayed high across each age group. And another recent survey found 75% respond to Christmas not being about presents, but about “good times and family friends.”

But the family has so many challenges, because as people, sometimes we get things quite messed up. Take King Herod, who made a series of decisions to hurt others. This week we have the feast of the Holy Innocents that our Gospel this week alludes to, remembering those little ones whose lives were lost because of him, and he even took the lives of his own family. His actions destroyed not only his own family, but also scores of other families. And there are many Herods in our own day and age; all you have to do is read a newspaper or watch the nightly news and frequently you’ll see someone treating a loved one abhorrently. But the sad truth is the family can be destroyed by many things that don’t make the news. If I could fix them all I’d get my own talk show, but to me there are a few things that seem to really stand out that I think we need to be aware of so we can help our families get to where they need to be, namely making time for one another and living out all that the word “love” means.

I think one of the best ways that can happen is by constantly reminding one another where our priorities need to be, and this is actually one of the things that concerns me the most as a priest. Caren Gerszberg is a writer for the New York Times, and earlier this year she wrote about how she wishes so much that her daughter were less stressed. Her 16-year old daughter has had less and less leisure time. She says that her moods, like many of her peers, have vacillated between solemn and giddy, hysterically sad and uncontrollably happy, and gone from hostile to friendly. Caren was in a high school meeting with other parents, and when talking about problems their kids face, most of the time the conversation went back to the same key words: stress, burden, work and pressure. Caren wrote about how she’s seen juniors replace sports and leisure time with test prep and too much homework, along with college visits and extra curricular activities and other commitments, giving no time for a good nights sleep or something as simple as watching TV. One parent in the group said her kid couldn’t even find time to research schools, so she had to do it. As a priest, this is something I’ve observed too, and I find it distressing. Fr. Tim, the priest I was with at Holy Name, pointed out how Wednesday nights used to be kind of kept free by area schools for church events, as many Protestant and Catholic churches have events Wednesday nights; but that’s gone. So are Sundays free of organized sports; it’s not uncommon to see people come up to communion in a soccer uniform. Now I’m not saying there is anything sinful at all about playing soccer on a Sunday or getting involved in sports, but as I’ve said more than once in a homily to teens, your self worth should not be determined by the sports trophies. No one is going to remember what you did on the baseball diamond next week; people have short memories of yesterday’s heroes. But people are going to remember how you were there for them when you needed them, or an act of kindness you may have shown. I think as a society we put way too much pressure on people at all ages; sometimes a Little Leaguer has the stereotypical sports parent yelling at the coach from the side, and sometimes a teen feels like she needs to be involved in every extracurricular activity under the sun to get into college. In fact, the American Psychological Association in 2009 for the first time asked children as well as adults about their stress levels, and the results found that a carefree childhood isn’t so carefree: 30% of Tweens and 42% of teens get headaches, 39% of Tweens and 49% of teens have a hard time sleeping and 27% of Tweens and 39% of teens say they eat too much or too little. But parents are also stressed out: According to the study: 47 percent of all adults report that they have lain awake at night; 45 percent report irritability or anger; 43 percent report fatigue; 40 percent report lack of interest, motivation or energy; 34 percent report headaches; 34 percent report feeling depressed or sad; 32 percent report feeling as though they could cry; and 27 percent report upset stomach or indigestion as a result of stress. In a house, such behavior is going to be learned. So many mean well and want to get ahead, but we’ve got this constant need to feel busy. I’ve heard more than once in the confessional someone confessing to being lazy, and whenever I hear that I need to do some digging. It could be they need to volunteer or do more, or it could be they are too hard on themselves. Even God took a day off, and we have weekends and vacations. I think one of the best things we can do to support the family is make time for one another. One family I met here at the parish invited me over for family game night, and it was fantastic and uplifting, because this family just had a night set aside for a dinner followed by relaxing games together. I wish that were the case for every family, because it’s so important to remember one can’t give what they can’t have. If someone is swamped with homework and a full calendar, there won’t be any time left for what matter most, and that’s the people in the home. By making time for one another, we can do so much to help one another realize the mission in life isn’t to get the most ribbons, trophies or pieces of paper to hang on a wall, but to get to the kingdom of heaven.

And another big piece of the puzzle in that is forgiveness. I often talk about love at length when I am witnessing a marriage, because we have a bit of a hard time I think differentiating it between other words, such as “like.” A married couple has, obviously, attraction to one another, but there will be days when one person may not be all that attractive to the other. True love will show itself when someone has the guts to say “I’m sorry”, when a spouse takes care of another who is seriously ill or might not even know their name anymore, and in those other moments where love is really put to the test. And the same is true within a family. Some of us have had relatives for a few days over the Christmas holidays, and my hunch is that in more than one house across the country, tensions may be running a bit high. This time of year can put a real strain on families, as people can get on one another’s nerves. Other times, someone may have been uncharitable in their choice of words, and anger and resentment can simmer below the surface for a number of years. We have the image of a peaceful scene in Bethlehem, but I think it would be rather naive to think the Holy Family did not have problems. Certainly everything was not always rosy, but through it all, they remained united in love.

Finally, it might sound crazy, but sometimes we might not realize how much we are loved. Harriet Brown is a journalism teacher at Syracuse University, and reflected on her fear at being an expectant mother for the first time as the fear of whether or not she was capable of loving another human being. It might sound crazy, but it was something she says she learned growing up. Her mom would point to a picture of her and her sister when they were 2 and 5, and Harriet had a scowl on her face, leaning away from her sister, and remarked how she was “always like that.” She reflects, “Maybe all parents say things like this to their children, meaning to describe rather than to harm. But I came to believe it. I grew up thinking of myself as ungracious, selfish and cold, emotionally withholding not just to the younger sister who adored me but to my mother as well. I believed there was something wrong with me; I was missing some crucial element that other people had. I felt like the Tin Man in “The Wizard of Oz,” except no ticking clock could take the place of the heart I seemed to lack. She would hide in her room when her parents would argue, and while her mom hugged her, she says she had a hard time feeling anything. This continued on as she grew up; she’d go in and out of relationships, until her future husband, whom she said she didn’t want anything more than friendship with, was different. He brought out the best in her by simply being at her side. They would go on long walks, share the same food together, and she found that she liked who she was with him. All the while, she would tell herself she was too selfish to love anyone, but his response was “I know who you are. And I know you are a good and loving person.” She says she ended up marrying him because she hoped he was right and hoped there was something inside of her that she couldn’t see. The birth of her first daughter also helped her to see what she had been missing. When she saw her, she says that “for the first time in my life I wasn’t thinking about myself. I wasn’t worrying about what kind of person I was, whether I was good or bad, lovable or not.” She says that “What I felt for my daughter bypassed the language center of my brain altogether. It was a jolt, an electric sizzle that connected my head to my heart. It wasn’t hearts and flowers; in fact, much of the time it felt nearly unbearable, like blood starting to flow into a frozen extremity. My feelings for my daughter constricted my chest and kept me up nights, worrying about whether she was getting enough to eat, to drink, whether she was happy. Whether she was still breathing… this connection we had, this bond — this was a whole new experience. For weeks I did not, could not name it. And then one day the word slid out of my mouth as my daughter cried on the changing table. “I love you, yes I do,” I said, patting her dry, fastening the Velcro strips on the diaper cover. And for the first time in my life, I believed it.” Now in her early 20’s and her other daughter a teen, “love” is a word they use all the time. Harriet comes to think of herself as capable of giving and receiving love, and that’s transformed how she’s looked at her life. She even looks at that old picture of her as a 5-year old, and looking at it more closely realizes it might not be a scowl at all, but her squinting her eyes from the sun that day, and her leaning away from her sister may have been her leaning towards her grandma who was outside of the frame. I don’t think her story is all that atypical. If you think about how often we say the word “love” to people, from signing it in high school yearbooks to Christmas cards, and how often we deliver on it, that can be tough. Again, liking and loving aren’t the same – we might not like someone’s actions, but love sees it through difficult times. We don’t just love when we forgive, we love when we spontaneously do something kind for someone; when we get involved in one another’s lives and read beyond the line “nothing happened at school today” or figure out that a loved one might have a whole lot of stress at work or school. Love can never be implied; it has to be shown day in and day out, and given and received, and figuring out how to do it right takes a lifetime. Sometimes we have a hard time remembering how much we matter to other people and of how we are unique in all of creation. We need to do all we can to help one another remember that important fact that God loves us in a unique and special way by the simple actions that we do day in and day out that bring God’s love into their life and say to someone “I love you for who you are, not for what you do.”

For my Christmas cards this year I wanted to do something a little different, so I took my camera and found out where I could find some Christmas scenes in stained glass at area Catholic Churches. I talked to a priest friend, Fr. John Paul Erickson who I knew in seminary, and he recommended the parish he serves at, Saint Agnes. And so when I went there, I saw a number of beautiful images in glass that filled the sanctuary with sunlight, but one of my favorites was an image I hadn’t seen before. It was of the Holy Family not on Christmas night or in any specific Biblical scene, but about 10 to 12 years after Bethlehem. Joseph is working as a carpenter, a young Jesus in His tweens is helping him out, and behind is Mary making some clothing, looking at her husband and Son with love. I love that window, because it’s a reminder to just how important family is. Family life can become so stressful in running around from appointments to school events to practices, but at it’s core, a family shapes us into the people we become. Mary picked up her young son and taught Him how to live His life, as did Joseph. When you think about the many unrecorded years of Jesus’ life, how much He must have learned from His parents: how to be there for one another and to be a person of your word; how to make sacrifices for people, and how to give of your time to help one another out. Much like the Martin family, I think the Holy Family was most grateful for the gift of one another. Sometimes those around us will truly drive us the most crazy, but at the end of the day it’s those people we call family that can do so much to either open our eyes or close our eyes into seeing the true meaning of love, the heart of the Christian message. Life on earth is so short, and in the blink of an eye, kids grow up and move away, and when we least expect it we might lose someone we care about. We might not see it clearly all the time, but the family is such a precious gift that is meant to be united together in love. Hopefully we help make that happen not just at Christmas or ars when things are going well, but over every day of our lives.

It came about in the 1920s when the pope at the time, Pius IX, instituted the feast. This was the time when some shadows were creeping across Europe. Russia had fallen to the Reds, with the message being the secularism was the answer. Even in Europe, you had this message taking hold as dictators would old their message to trump that of the Church. People needed to focus on a different kind of King and Kingdom – Jesus Christ. Sir Thomas More said it best: I die the kings good servant, but God’s first.

And so what this feast does is help us look at how Christ leads. Center for me was how he showed forgiveness to those who killed Him (all of us) and to the Good Thief, who is in this account from the Gospel we heard this Sunday (http://www.usccb.org/nab/112110.shtml). Christ also shows sacrifice, through what He does in the Passion but through how He leads His life. These are two things that are difficult though for us all if you think about it. No one likes sacrifice; just look at the recent credit meltdown or how people use others for their own gain, such as what happened with Communism and totalitarianism and still happens all over the world. Forgiveness is something we ask for and try to give, but that’s tough business. How do you move past something that hurts?

These are themes I tried to address in my homily. I focused on the story of Lord Longford, an English lord who reached out to a woman that everyone in the UK loathed. His story was made into a film that won an Emmy and other awards, and while it’s on my Netflix queue I haven’t yet gotten it, but will. I do think it shows in many ways what a life looks like that tries to serve Christ the King.

Here’s the text of my homily from this past weekend. I hope you have a safe holiday too this week. As one who prefers the warmth of summer, here’s one note of cheer: just one month until the days start to increase again.  Perhaps the archbishop would be open to me serving a parish in Florida or Southern California through March? Probably not, and I’d miss my family and friends too much, but winter really gets me down!

Oh well, God bless and have a safe and wonderful Thanksgiving and upcoming Advent and Christmas. The tree has been put up at the rectory with some lights thanks to some help from mom and dad, so while it’s cold outside at least the inside is warm and festive.

God bless! – Fr. Paul

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Myra Hindley was one of the most notorious names in Britain in the 1960s, and for many years after that was a name that people thought about with disgust. It was over a two year period, from 1963 to 1965, that she and the man whom she was seeing took the lives of five children. When the two were apprehended, the press labeled her the most evil woman in Britain.

Obviously the public outcry over these crimes was intense, and were it not for the work of an English Lord, the name probably would have been forgotten, as the sentence of life had been handed down. However, her name would come up again and again over the years that followed, because a man by the name of Frank Pakenham, or Lord Longford, refused to see just a murderess, but a human being.

Longford, by all accounts, should have led the good life and not have much to worry about in the 1970s. He was born into a prosperous family, and while he had a difficult childhood in the shadow of an older brother and not receiving much affection from his mother, he went on to go to Oxford and graduate with honors. He went on to a career in politics, taking a seat in the House of Lords and working in government as a member of the Labor Party, including being a part of the cabinet from 1964 to 1968. In 1971 he was knighted. He also enjoyed a beautiful marriage to Elizabeth, who was apparently one of the most sought-after undergraduates at his college.

By the time the 1970s rolled around, he should have been entering retirement, but he refused to slow down. And while he could have probably gotten good publicity for doing social work and found safe projects that would have no controversy, that, apparently, just wasn’t his way. Instead, he became focused on something that no one really cared about: reforming the prison system and ministering to the convicted.

He first began to visit prisons in the 1930s, and well into late life he would go two to three times a week to visit people who had been abandoned. Tabloids called him an eccentric who got a kick out of contact with infamous killers, but more than likely it was his Catholic faith (to which he converted) that served as a reason for him doing this work. In the late 1980s, for instance, he was contacted by the solicitor for a young man who was convicted of a drug offense, who was dying in jail from Aids; his family wouldn’t even visit him. Longford was the only person to do this on multiple occasions, but he of course never got any headlines for that.

What did get him headlines, however, was his involvement with the notorious Hindley, which perplexed many people then and still does to this day, especially when one considers that when Hindley didn’t think he could secure her release, she really didn’t want much to do with him. He began visiting her, and part of what he worked for in prison reform was to turn the public’s attention away from just punishment, but to looking at the underlying causes of what led someone to commit a crime. In Hindley’s case, she suffered from a horrific childhood of abuse, where she learned violence and learned that violence was in some cases the only response. In one case, when a neighborhood 8-year old boy hurt her, her own father told her to go out and do the same to him. He got to know her story, and became gradually convinced that she had been rehabilitated and was no longer a threat to society. For this, he was labeled “Lord Wrongford” by the media, but he wouldn’t be bullied by the media. In fact, he fought back. He also met with the victims families, and felt the media was just fueling a hunger for revenge.

Hindley never was released. In fact, she was declared insane in 1985, and lived the rest of her years in a mental hospital, and while both her and Longford did meet, eventually she did not want to meet with him any longer. No one can say for certain whether or not she had been rehabilitated or was in fact, as some suggested, using Longford to secure her release; she died in 2002. And by in large, while there were some changes in the prison system, he was not successful in making the changes he had hoped for.

At a deeper level though, when I read his story, I have to wonder what is it that drove him on? The tabloids and British Press certainly were not his friends, and making friends with a convict certainly caused him troubles. On top of this, it’s at a point in his life where he could be enjoying retirement and no longer has to be involved in politics. But yet despite fierce opposition and even public ridicule, Longford remained firm in his convictions, because he believed in doing the right thing, even if it might not be the most popular message. Perhaps he was following the guidance of a monarch other than his queen, Elizabeth.

Today’s feast is, at least for me, has always been a little bit confusing. It ends the liturgical year, as a new one begins next week, but what do we mean when we speak of Christ’s kingship? I think what it comes down to is the kind of kingship that Christ shows us – one not of glory for oneself, but one that seeks glory for others through forgiveness, sacrifice and service. The key is to live each day trying to grow in living that kind of life, but that takes work, because the image of royalty tends to focus more on anything but those three things.

With sacrifice, it’s a word that’s not in vogue a whole lot. Take the economic messes of the past century. While we believe there should be equality for all, some have taken that to mean economic equality. So we had a credit meltdown where people and governments borrowed beyond their means to “keep up with the Joneses.” We also had good people justifying their sinful actions to use other people for their money because they told themselves they had a “right” to things. On a global scale, this thinking isn’t new. From the rise of Communism, which said the state has a right to what you produce, to the false lure of thinking that having possessions is what matters most, lost can be the notion of sacrifice – of working to obtain something.

To be sure, there are countless rags-to-riches stories of self-made millionaires, and while there’s nothing wrong with having possessions or saving up to get something we want, we also should strive to sacrifice to get something we hopefully all want – the heavenly kingdom. Pope Saint Leo the Great asked, “For what could be more royal than a soul which by subjecting itself to God becomes ruler of it’s own body?” This is what our King, Jesus did, when He lays down His life. He does not understand the plan of the Father, but still He trusts, and while He may have the power to walk away, He chooses to give us all redemption, and the ultimate sign of what love is all about.

The problem though is more and more, that message can be lost in a world that tells us to seek our own glory. There is much good in the world, but ultimate glory can’t be found here. (What good is it to gain the world and lose eternal life?) Kings and queens might make some ink when they get engaged, but they don’t hold much political power in many countries anymore. And those who do are, as we see each election cycle, voted in and popular one minute and unpopular the next. To stay in power, they often can’t speak the truth. I’ve yet to hear any politician using the word “sacrifice” as a way of erasing debts and improving the economy. That’s understandable; politicians want to stay in office. But thankfully, Jesus didn’t just tell us what we wanted to hear in his kingship – he both talked the talk and walked the walk, as we see in this Gospel.

Through the sacrifice of our King, the world was redeemed. And while we probably won’t be called to lay down our lives for our faith, over a lifetime we will be called to make sacrifices. What we need to get away from is thinking sacrifice is a very negative thing. One of my favorite  verses is from John’s Gospel, John 12:24: “…unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” What I think of here is a willingness to die to self, to let something go for the greater good. Growing up, we might put away our allowance which is hard to see the money vanish into this building called a bank, but later on we can afford to buy a bike on our own. But on a larger level, we need to always be willing to sacrifice like Christ our King to make ourselves and one another better. Mother Teresa often said: “Love until it hurts,” meaning get away from the love of self-interest that looks inward, but embrace the love that looks outward. And so, if we are going to take this feast to heart, the question for us is a bit of the same one we should ask ourselves every Ash Wednesday: what am I going to sacrifice in my life for the greater good? As I shard a couple of weeks back, the greatest compliment I think any of us can get is to stand one day before God and see a loved one in heaven who says to us “I am here this day because you helped me to find the way here.” We do that through how we lead our lives. A child may save up their allowance not for a new bike but to get his mom something nice for her birthday; a teen may choose, instead of going out with their friends on Friday, to stay in with the family; a parent may choose to sacrifice of their time as well to be with their kids. At the time, it may seem like a difficult choice, but we make sacrifices to help make ourselves and others better. We also can do so much to set an example for others through sacrifice. Longford sacrificed pride and good press because he wanted to show people that forgiveness was possible and there could be goodness in even people who society might say have no redeeming quality, and for it he got no thanks save for a kind obituary in the Times of London. But over our lives, we can set such an example by helping people understand what matters most. I’m reminded every day of this, quite literally, when I look at a small church that sits on my bookshelf. It was made by my grandma Pat, but is just one of countless such things that she made by yarn for me and others in the family. Whenever I’d visit her, she’d often be spending time knitting, only to get up and offer you something to eat or drink, because that was just her way. She wanted our family to have something that brought them a little bit of joy, and that was her way of saying “I love you,” which she did in word and deed. The good news is you don’t have to know how to thread a needle to do that, but we can do that in so many ways through the testament of our lives. I look at that little church not just as a nice thing to go with the décor of my office, but as a symbol that is a reminder to me of my potential to live as she did by putting others first, and as a reminder that sacrifice may entail some short term difficulty, but can do so much good for ourselves and one another if we see something through.

One of the most difficult things to see through though if you think about can be forgiveness, which is the other trait we see shown by Christ the King. In Luke’s account of the Passion, in a very touching moment, He forgives instantly the good thief who has turned from his way of life. He also forgives the crowds who don’t even ask for forgiveness. Personally, I would find it very hard to forgive like that, and I think most people would be in the same boat. A while back, I shared the story of Vicar Julie Nicholson. She lost her daughter in the terrorist attack on the London underground in 2005. She had been serving as a vicar at an inner-city parish in London. She and her husband Greg were on a vacation in Wales, and found out that her daughter had been murdered when a terrorist bomb went off in a London subway. She took a leave from her ministry, and even decided to leave the priesthood, and stay involved in her church in a non-ordained way, leading an arts program. Why so drastic a step? In her words, “Its very difficult for me to stand behind an altar and celebrate the Eucharist, and lead people in words of peace and reconciliation and forgiveness when I feel very far from that myself.” Seeing what she did, her friend, also an Anglican priest, Ruth Scott, commented that she could not “help thinking that she is now more qualified to be a priest than she was before the tragedy” because the path she has chosen to take “challenges all Christians to reflect more deeply and sensitively about those words that we say every week – ‘forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.’ Its a good point, because forgiveness is really a process, and that’s something that Vicar Nicholson understands. Sometimes people feel pressured to forgive too quickly; other times something is so hurtful it is just buried far away, but by embracing the process of forgiveness, it can be liberating not just for the person who wronged us but for ourselves, too. Janis Spring, a psychologist, points out that a good first step is to acknowledge what we are feeling, which means confronting the anger and it has to be released. That means acknowledging that we were hurt and are angry, rather than bottling it up. Sometimes I even point this out in a wedding homily, pointing out there’s a difference between rage and resentment and using cruel words and actions towards legitimate disagreement where a couple has a healthy argument. One priest friend told me some of the healthiest couples he knows are those who argue every once in a while. So that first step is realizing what we are going through, and being honest with what we are feeling – and it may mean we stay at that step for a while, as Vicar Nicholson did. We gradually then move on to praying about the situation, letting God know about it (as if He doesn’t know anyway) in our prayer life, telling him our raw emotions and asking Him to help us take the steps toward healing and reconciliation. We also can turn to others for help through the situation by talking about a hurtful situation with a loved one. And, as we do this, we can move away from being a victim to being someone who understands. Ruth Scott, also an Episcopal priest, points out that as this happens, “if we are not to remain victims, we have to go eventually beyond condemnation to understanding what has happened, why it happened, how it has impacted us and what we can do to free ourselves to be someone whose identity is more than that of being the victim of a particular tragedy.” It’s an important process, and sometimes it can take many years. We shouldn’t feel bad about wanting justice – for even in confession when someone confesses stealing something, the priest, while not wanting them to reveal their conscience, may encourage them to try to pay back what was stolen in some way. We should demand justice. But we also need to work on trying to demand mercy. Like I said, I work for Jesus and try to be like Him, but were I Him in the cross, I really don’t think I could say “Father, forgive them.” In life people may treat us like Jesus was treated, and we will get hurt. It can be tempting to bury that hurt far away, or, even worse, to lie and say “all is right” when it’s really not alright, and we are still hurt and angry at an individual, and let that anger fester or use it as an ace up our sleeve for when we get into an argument with that person down the road. Forgiveness, much like sacrifice, can be painful, but, like sacrifice, it can also lead to liberation, and hopefully we never fear striving to embrace it, mindful that the process can take a long time.

Peter Stanford is an English writer who profiled Lord Longford, and looked at how he worked toward teaching people to forgive. He points out that “we cannot quite rise to the challenge of forgiveness. Rather than seek to understand why many criminals offend, we prefer to label them evil. Rather than accept their remorse, we prefer to suspect them of manipulating us into feeling sorry for them (as happened in Longford’s case).” The same is true with sacrifice – it’s hard to rise to that challenge when it’s so easy to go down the path of self-interest like so many kings have done throughout the ages, and easy to stay locked in bitterness or anger when we are wronged but more difficult to confront and try to gradually work past the raw emotions we are feeling.

People who have shown a remarkable ability to this are the Amish. Marie Roberts is the wife of Charles Carl Roberts, the man who took the lives of five children when he went into an Amish school in Pennsylvania before taking his own life. In the midst of this tragedy and their pain, the Amish community reached out to Marie, and publicly forgave her husband. In a statement, she thanked the Amish community for what they did. In her words, “Your love for our family has helped to provide the healing we so desperately need. Your compassion has reached beyond our family, beyond our community, and is changing our world.” Through His kingship, and how He lived, Christ changed the world by laying down His life for us, but also through showing us how to live – in a way where the focus is on the other person and helping one another to become better through lives of love and service even when both are difficult. Saint Paul, in our second reading, states that Jesus is the “image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” Christ does not physically walk this earth anymore, and while He is there in the Eucharist and present in the world, many people choose not to see Him. And even among people who may say they are Christian, we find that as life goes on living as He taught us is tough. No one here is going to be a king or queen, but hopefully we all aspire to be part of the heavenly court. This side of heaven, it’s a fact that as people wronged Christ people will wrong us too – and anger and frustration are appropriate, as is justice. It’s also a fact that one can’t give what they don’t have, and love also needs to be received – including self-love, and taking time for vacations or enjoying the fruits of life by owning possessions. The difference though between the person who focuses on heaven and the person who just can’t see God is one is willing to move past anger and not let it become a cycle of hate; the other lets the past become crippling and refuses to let go. One may have money in the bank and stuff in the house, but makes time for loved ones and realizes there are more important things than getting a gold name plate on a corner office; the other just gradually sets out to be a modern-day Napoleon and crown themselves king or queen of their own little world. William Longford, having everything in life, decided he needed to bring God’s love to a prison cell to a person whom everyone in the world seemed to despise, and for it he got no praise during his lifetime, rumors spread about him in the tabloids, and even little thanks from the person who he was trying to help. But through his forgiveness and reaching out, he also did something that’s so important for anyone who claims to be a Christian to do: he showed that he served first not the Queen of England, but the King of Heaven, and did exactly what Christ did for the Good Thief through the testament of His life. Hopefully our lives are led trying to do the same thing for one another, mindful that the most incredible thing we can do for someone isn’t to make the perfect turkey or find the perfect gift, but help them to find the way to heaven.

Needless to say calling last weekend “hectic” would have been an understatement, but one bright spot was the window of 10 minutes on Sunday afternoon that saw the Vikings score two touchdowns and come from behind to finally get a win. And once again, for the 46^th time in his career, the architect was Brett Favre.

Favre is an incredible talent to watch on the gridiron, and will be an easy first-ballot vote into the Hall of Fame when he’s eligible. And while I tune in to watch and get excited, I still have to remind myself of the wisdom my dad gave me while growing up: whether they win or lose, you’re still going to have to go to school tomorrow. Of course he’s right; the Vikings really can’t do much for me other than get me excited or provide a nice three-hour diversion on a Sunday afternoon. Were I trying to get into football, I’m sure I could learn a thing or two from them, but at this point in my life I can safely say I’ll never be in the NFL.

However, I think there are a few things that Favre can teach me about life. But it’s not the Favre whose first name is Brett; rather it’s the Favre whose first name is Deanna.

I’ve never met Deanna Favre, but recently there was an article that ran in USA Today on her in the “faith and reason” section, where she talked about her faith life and how it has helped her deal with fear. On “Good Morning America” a couple of weeks back, in talking about the scandal that her husband got involved in concerning questionable text messages, she said that faith is what has sustained her, and on her refrigerator are verses from Isaiah 41:9-14, which in part state: “Fear not, I am with you; be not dismayed; I am your God. I will strengthen you, and help you, and uphold you with my right hand of justice.” And on more than one occasion, she’s had her shares of fears to confront.

In college, she was pregnant with her first child at the age of 20, in her second year of college, and was a single mom who had to support herself with various jobs. She and Brett have also had difficulties at different points in their marriage. At one point, he became addicted to painkillers, which she helped him overcome; in 1999, she helped him wake up to his drinking problem, and he entered rehab and reportedly hasn’t had a drink since. On top of this, she also recently had to battle breast cancer, getting treatment in 2005 and making a recovery. From a distance, it might seem fame and money might make life better; but indeed, just like everyone else, Deanna has had her share of very dark moments, and one of the things she has clung to that has gotten her through these moments has been her faith. She says that “I think we always see the way out. Our strength obviously comes from God. We see the better way. People who don’t have faith, I think they just get stuck; they don’t see a way out.” She goes on to say that, as a Christian and through a book she recently wrote, she “hopes we can lead those people maybe to Christ. They’ll realize there’s more to life. There’s a better life, and God has a purpose and a plan for them and (can) provide hope.”

Hope, though, can be hard to come by, and in difficult situations, fears can certainly be present. I know as the time loomed for the homily last week, my heart rate was running a little high, because I wanted to try to say the right things and comfort people. Even after I had written out my homily, my concern was some people might not pay attention, because I had mentioned her in a homily I once gave earlier, and on top of that people might have so many emotions they were going through they might just tune me out. But, despite some nerves, I was able to get through it and was overwhelmed with the support the congregation showed me. Last weekend went about as good as we could have hoped, in that I think people here are really coming together, and most importantly, we are providing one another with hope.

One of the things I pointed out though was that once something happens, one can’t wave a magic wand and make everything right in an instant. We need to move forward, and whether it’s this situation or something else, a stumbling block to that is fear and anxiety.  Small wonder we pray “deliver us from all anxiety” at each Mass, for it can always crop up and make us doubt, or look at our shortcomings. That’s where hope, love and fortitude come into play, to spur us on and remind us that we are loved and indeed strong because God is with us and given us the ability to see anything through that life might throw at us.

Jesus is onto this in the Gospel. At first glance, it sounds like doom and gloom are all that await us for the future: wars between nations; persecution for living out the faith and natural disasters. It certainly doesn’t sound like much of a future to me. And in fact, much of what Jesus speaks of does come to pass. The Temple, a massive building for it’s time, would be destroyed 40 years later. For a Jewish person living at the time, the loss of that was devastating – almost as if their entire world was coming to an end. Christians would go through a similar thing when Rome would fall to the Barbarians. The questions then were the same that we face today: how can we go forward whether it’s the situation we face as a parish or the situations life might throw at us? How do we deal with the fears, anxieties and uncertainties can come up in life that prevent us from moving forward?

I think the key is embracing fortitude, a virtue that God gives us. The catechism defines it as “the moral virtue that ensures firmness in difficulties and constancy in the pursuit of the good.” It’s what’s known as a human virtue – a virtue that we get by being born a human being. But just because everyone has it, doesn’t mean that fear vanishes. When Jesus was in the garden praying to the Father, I think part of Him was certainly fearful of what was ahead. Fear is natural, and it can be healthy – we should fear certain things so we don’t do foolish things that put ourselves in danger. Someone putting themselves in extreme danger isn’t an act of fortitude; it’s an act of foolishness. Where fortitude comes into play is that it serves as the shield against fear paralyzing us so that we can stand against anything that comes at us. But for that to happen, we have to grow in it.

One of the first ways to grow in it is through prayer. That’s something that Deanna Favre stressed in that article. I especially like her statement about how people of faith can see the way out of a situation, and one of the flashlights if you will is through growing in fortitude by picking up the phone and praying to God. One of the most comforting verses for me in Scripture is in this Gospel: “not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives.” Jesus is reminding His followers that there will be pain, but that we do not journey alone. He is right there at our side. Proof of this is the Cross. When you think of the Passion, indeed the worst does happen: He was overwhelmed by chaos; the sun was darkened, and the world collapsed – but yet, He stood upright for us. I think we see this quite starkly in the cross we have here at Saint Hubert’s over our altar. If you look at it, we see not a broken man, but our Lord as a king in glory. It’s a Cross of triumph. And its a sign to us that just as the Son was lifted up by the Father and glorified by Him, we too can share in Christ’s glory – for when we come to Him, He will help us stand upright in the face of whatever life may throw at us. And that’s why prayer is so important – because much like the Father sent the angel to comfort Jesus in the garden, prayer strengthens our relationship with Him by reminding us that the Passion wasn’t something that is just a historical event from 2000 years ago, but a living sign of how much we are loved.

Secondly, I also think we always need to keep our eyes fixed on the big picture through patience and perseverance. When you are in the midst of a challenging time though, that can be a pretty tall order. In our first reading, Malachi writes after the Jews had returned to Jerusalem from the Babylonian exile but it’s still a difficult time. One of the challenges for the people was seeing seemingly the wrong people prosper; people might be back in Jerusalem which is hopeful, but there’s still a whole lot of corruption and evil actions going on around them, which disheartens them. A few verses prior to where this reading picks up, Malachi records the concern of the people: “for indeed evildoers prosper, and even tempt God with impunity.” Small wonder they would not be tempted to throw up their hands and wonder “what’s the point of it all?” Enter Malachi with his message of hope that God’s love will ultimately prevail as will His justice. I think that is important to remember when we journey through life’s storms. But we also have to remember that if we are focused on the big picture, it doesn’t mean we passively sit around and wait for heaven, but that we are active in using fortitude to help people realize what matters most. Take the situation the parish is currently going through. As I shared last week, depending on the day (or minute), sometimes I’m sad, confused, or even frustrated and angry. These are all emotions that I battle, and I can’t ignore the past but need to know that the emotional part and sorting all that out, that’s going to take time. I’ve got a job to do, and I move forward, but whenever you go through something difficult, while one tries to forgive, the forgetting part isn’t so easy. I need to acknowledge to those who support me what I’m going through, but if I stay focused on the past or just the anger part of it, I’m not sure that will do much help in trying to move forward. I need to first acknowledge these emotions, but also focus is on how can I and others help our parish to heal; how can I help this parish to become even better than it is, and how can I really confront the issue and the emotions people are going through not by ignoring them but by being there for those in need. If our focus is on heaven, the goal of each day should be to help ourselves and one another become better people. We do that not by just being a cheerleader or with little well-intended but not all that helpful lines such as “it’ll all be better,” but by rolling up our sleeves and doing difficult things, such as not ignoring emotions, and by being active in one another’s lives so that when we see someone struggling or going down the wrong path, we are there to confront and also help them while at the same time being patient – knowing that change can take time, for ourselves and for one another. It may be a long time for some people to heal from what has happened, and I think that’s important to acknowledge, because that’s what happens when someone is hurt. But whether it’s our situation as a parish, or the situation of someone we care about whom we are trying to change, we not only have to be patient but we have to be persistent in being there for one another. Perhaps a loved one is making bad decisions, or we try to help someone see the truth that they are loved by God, and they just can’t see it or just can’t see how their decision may be hurting themselves and others. Jesus says it best: “by your perseverance you will secure your lives.” He’s encouraging us to see things through, whether it’s storms in our lives or in the lives of others. It can be tempting to throw in the towel, and think either things won’t get better or maybe someone won’t change. But through a bit of patience and perseverance, we can see the big picture of hope. And I have to tell you, that has been one of the most encouraging and hopeful things to me so far, that people really do that here at Saint Huberts. One of my biggest concerns going into last weekend was the potential anger that might be out there that would lead people to leave, or not want to talk about things. But instead, people really have come together and supported one another, because they know that’s simply what we have to do. So many people here know that our Church, both universally and locally within our parish, is a very special place that can bring them closer to God. We also must remember that we are God’s building too, the building built of living stones and whether it is this incident or the many others in life that come at us, each one of us can do so much to be an instrument of hope to one another.

And finally, my hope is that we also never forget how we journey forward together. One of the quick reminders that I’ve gotten over the past week is how much support that I have. I’ve gotten phone calls from other priests, and many e-mails and also kind notes from people in the parish, not to mention the many words of support. On top of that, the staff has really rallied together to support one another. This certainly isn’t the first storm in my life I’ve had to weather, and it won’t be the last. Sometimes when things become challenging, at least for me, a lot of “I” statements get used: I’ve got to figure this out, I’ve got to help people, I’ve got to make things right. But interestingly, so many people used “I” statements to me: what can I do for you, how can I pray for you, how can I show you support. As I said in my bulletin column, one thing the recent events have done for me was just remind me of the inherent goodness that is in people in how when things are rough, people really reach out to one another. What an remedy to fear and anxiety that is, and it’s reminded me of the importance of a difficult word for me to use: “help.” There’s a reason Jesus chose 12 apostles and not 1 and sent them out to work together. My hope is that no matter where you are at in our life or what it is you are going through, be it this situation, a difficult work situation, a bully at school, or just the turbulence of life, that you never fear reaching out and asking someone for assistance, and I thank you for reminding me to do the same thing.

Last week’s wasn’t the first sermon in which my heart was going fast and I was a bit nervous about what I would say, and it won’t be the last. Even after 3 years it can still be hard to get up here, trying to say something that applies to people’s lives, and in the parish trying to help people there will always be moments of doubt where I ask “did I do enough?” But then, I do a little soul-searching. I look at the Cross, and I know that my God stands by me. I look at the people who surround me on the staff and in the parish and in my family, and know they are there to help me. And I look at so many resilient people that I’ve come to know as a priest who have had to battle everything from parish difficulties, to tragedies in the family to tragedies in their lives, but they did so with such incredible bravery. If you ever saw “The Wizard of Oz,” you might recall the Cowardly Lion. He was afraid of everything, and so much wanted courage. Finally, when the all-powerful Oz is revealed as a man behind a curtain, he gets his wish. Oz pins a medal on his mane; but really it wasn’t the medal that gave him courage. He had it all along; it just took Oz reminding him. God doesn’t give us a medal, but at our birth gave us each the virtue of fortitude that helps us to conquer anything. Fortitude is the remedy that helps us see something through to the end, and run the race of life, and pick ourselves up when we fall and get back on the track rather than giving up. May we use this virtue to run it well, and never give up knowing that we can truly make it through anything life will throws at us. On Good Friday, the worst possible thing happened: Jesus died, and all was seemingly hopeless. But through that dark hour, the world was redeemed and Christ conquered the grave. May we turn to Him, to one another, and to this beautiful virtue to conquer all of our fears.

I found out Friday afternoon about what was going on, and initially I was (and still am) a bit in disbelief and confused. But I believe that problems have to be confronted, and wishing problems away doesn’t make them disappear, so I tried my best to make the most of a rough situation.

I told Mike that he would be in my prayers and had my support, and he told me how sorry he was to put this on me, and I really believe him. I think he is more concerned about how his sudden departure is affecting the parish, because he does try to put others first and is a guy with a big heart. I think he’ll get the help and care he needs and move on.

But moving on is of course something we have to do as a parish – so I tried to help the first steps to take place this weekend. I wrote out my homily and thoughts, and had no idea what to expect. I was worried about phone calls of anger, or e-mails of “I’m leaving the parish,” or even confused people not knowing what to expect. In the past 50 years, we’ve all as a universal Church seen tough times and at times seen people try to ignore a problem, and that never ends well. I was also, admittedly, a little fearful about some anger being directed at me as I would be the go-to guy for venting and frustration.

Despite that, I knew already my fears were trying to be calmed. I’d gotten numerous e-mails and calls from priests for support. One even got me on the horn and said the archbishop called him, told him to give me a call and offer his help for covering Masses. The time for Mass approached, and Fr. Peter Laird came out to give me support. He was my moral theology prof in seminary (hence I quote him from time to time in homilies, because he was a very good one at that, the kind who challenged you and made you use your mind) and now he’s vicar general, a fancy word basically meaning the right-hand man of the bishop who works for the bishop in his office as a diocese leader. He came and spoke after each Mass, and even offered to take Mass if I couldn’t get through it. But I knew I needed to celebrate each Mass, because I just had to say something. I really care about the people I serve, and they knew me – with all due respect to Fr. Laird, I think the people needed to hear something from me that addressed what was going on.

Like I said, my heart was racing but I somehow got through it and afterwards, have been overwhelmed by people’s kindness and support. Person after person told me they were in my corner, and were there to help me. No angry e-mails, no “I’m leaving the parish,” none of that – just support. And I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me, because that’s what people do at this parish – they help one another not just when you need someone to make a turkey at the Harvest Festival or to volunteer, but when you need someone to rely on emotionally for support to get through tough times. This weekend reminded me how lucky I am as a priest and of the inherent goodness that’s in people.

I thought I’d post the text of my homily, and also express in my blog my gratitude to the people who are helping me and helping one another through this rough time in the parish. From the staff I work with to the people I serve, this place is really special because we see and do things together, and for that I know we will make it through this.

Here’s the text of my homily, and to everyone for your prayers and support, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. Know you have mine as well.

God bless,

Fr. Paul

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The first year of my priesthood, 2007, had gone pretty well as I approached the end of the year. I had gotten to know a number of the people in the parish, gotten to know the kids in the school, and felt really accepted. Preaching was still then, as it is now, a series of ups and downs, but I hadn’t really had any problems – things had gone very smoothly with the functioning of the parish, and with weddings and funerals. All in all, it was smooth sailing.

But things changed in November of that year. It was Thanksg iving weekend, and I was enjoying the day after Turkey Day at my parents house, awaiting a meal of left-overs and taking it easy. It was then I got a phone call. On the line was a parishioner whom I had never met. They explained to me that their daughter had been ill with cancer, and was now beginning to lose the battle, and asked if I could go to their home to visit and anoint her. I told them I would be on my way shortly, and got into my car not really knowing what to expect. I’d been called to the hospital before, but never for someone so young.

I made my way to their home, and walked in and found family and friends sitting on the couch. I looked to my right and saw the stairs to the basement, and after welcoming me Leslie’s mom went down to help her come up. I was sitting on the couch, when I looked up and saw a young woman being helped up the stairs with a backpack that contained an IV. She had lost most of her hair, and looked quite thin, and she looked at me and said hello in a quiet voice. Her eyes looked tired and worn out – like someone who had fought a fight, but knew that they were losing it. I can’t remember what I said to the family that day, other than to offer my prayers and support, and I anointed Leslie and we prayed together for her and the family. And I left, not knowing if I had helped as much as I had hoped I would.

I headed back home not knowing what to think, and thinking about the young woman I had just seen the rest of the day. She was someone who should have been in the prime of her life, enjoying an extended holiday weekend. These kinds of things aren’t supposed to happen until the end of our life – she had so many years ahead of her. And so that night in my prayer, I asked God for a miracle. She had in fact beaten the cancer from her body; but the treatments had battered her system so much that there was internal bleeding which the doctors could not stop. I begged God to intervene; to help that bleeding to stop so that she could recover. But that did not happen.

Monday morning, I got a phone call once again, and this time it was to inform me that Leslie had passed on Sunday. I met with the family, and got stories from her life and prepared to celebrate her funeral later that week.

When the day of the funeral came, the church was full. Most of her class from Orono High School was there, and you’d think it was a Sunday morning Mass. They had set up screens with pictures set to music that highlighted her life, and I was waiting in the narthex. An usher tried to make conversation with me, but I just had to excuse myself and go down some hallway. I began to tear up as emotions started flooding me – confusion, anger, grief and sadness. But I knew I had to keep it together. I was the one the people were looking to for a little guidance. I was the one who had to somehow make sense of a tragic situation, because I knew if I were in the pew I’d be looking for answers and trying to make sense of the tragic loss that I had been through.

I regained my composure, and the opening hymn began. I made my way down the aisle, and Mass proceeded well, and then it was my turn to speak. I had a homily prepared that I read word for word from the ambo, and as I said, this wasn’t my first funeral. Most funeral homilies go pretty smoothly; I talk about the resurrection and hope, and the person’s life, and try to comfort the family and friends. But this one was different. Even though I hadn’t journeyed with Leslie through her cancer battle, the emotions began to come at me strong and hard as I preached. I got to the last page of the homily, and began to lose it. And so I wrapped it up, and took some deep breaths on my way back to the chair, and was able to regain the composure to get through the rest of the Mass and the burial.

That day changed me. Like I said, I experienced all kinds of emotions that day, and in the days that followed I had more days like that – phone calls from the police to someone who has taken their own life; an infant who died; the anointing of another woman in her early 20s facing a cancer battle like Leslies. And days like that truly test your faith.

I’m not the first person to go through days like that. We all do. I look at Jesus, and two moments in my life that I reflect on quite a bit are the agony in the garden and the Passion. There was obviously the physical pain, but what strikes me is the emotional. In the garden, he begins to sweat blood, begging the Father to take the cup away from Him if it is the Fathers will, but also saying He will follow the will of the Father whatever it might be. And on the cross, He cries out the Psalm, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” expressing his anguish, confusion, but ultimate trust in the Father.  But ultimately, Jesus did trust in the Father and He was not abandoned by Him.

After He arose, He established the Church to be a visible sign of God in the world – and He told Peter that the gates of hell would never prevail against the Church. But at various times, they have certainly blown quite hard when you look at all we have been through as a Church, and as individuals. There is just no getting around the fact that for every Christian, more than one Good Friday may have to be lived through.

This weekend, we together journey through a Good Friday. Yesterday on my day off, I got a phone call from Fr. Mike explaining the situation, he apologized to me. I’ve known him since 2006, when I was assigned to Saint Hubert’s as a transitional deacon. I found it to be such a great experience of learning what to expect when I was ordained a priest, and the parish to be so great that I hoped that I would be allowed to go back the following summer. That didn’t happen, and my first assignment ended up being great at Holy Name, but when 2 years had passed there and I knew that I would likely be reassigned. With the new archbishop wanting us to get two terms as an associate, I essentially requested to be sent to Saint Huberts, as I knew the pastor and the people, and it seemed like the perfect fit. And my hopes were realized. I didn’t want to leave Holy Name, but at the same time I knew I was going to a great place.

I’ve been here a year and a half, and I will tell you this is still a great place. I’ve been welcomed, treated well by the people, and it is great serving this parish. Fr. Mike was great to work with, and in my time here he continued to give me support, mentorship and guidance. He was good to talk to about anything, and I know he cared about the parish. When I got the information about what had happened, like I said I told him to figure things out, and that he would be in my prayers. But I also, much like that day I got the call from Leslie’s parents, had all sorts of emotions: shock, confusion, sadness, and frustration and even some anger.

That’s something that I’ll continue to sort out. I wish I could get up here and wave a magic wand and make everything better – but just as every mom and dad realizes that they can’t protect their children from pain, we all know that actions have consequences. And I think there are two ways you can deal with something: you can ignore it, and pretend it isn’t there, or you can face it and try to move forward and heal. And my hope is that we do the latter.

Nothing I can say up here will change what has happened – all I can try to do is to speak from my heart. And my hope is that you listen to your hearts. That you grapple with whatever you might be going through. As I said before, one time a deacon at the seminary in a reflection shared how late one night he went into the reservation chapel where the tabernacle was and literally had it out with God – yelling at Jesus, why is this happening, why am I going through this. It was one of the most powerful homilies I ever heard, because it was real. God is a pretty big fellow – He can handle anger (just read through Job) but I don’t think He much cares for silence. It’s OK to question God. It’s OK to have doubts – even Jesus did. But Jesus knew that He was not abandoned by the Father, and my hope is that we know that as well. Take the time you need to talk about this with your families and friends. Take the time to bring it to prayer, and know that healing is a process that can take a long time.

But my hope too is that you know we heal together. As I left my parents house earlier this morning, my dad said something that really hit me: one person isn’t the Church. We are the Church. And how right he is. Priests are human – we have our shortcomings. And when one makes a mistake that people know about, it can damage the institution. I was in seminary during the crisis of cases that hit in 2001, and have certainly heard my share of jokes and snide comments over the years, though most people support the priesthood. But the thing that concerns me the most? It’s the silence. It’s the people who might be thinking something, but not say it. The people that might look at a priest as someone they could talk to about a struggle, or something they were battling, or look to for help but now not say anything because they wonder if that person can be trusted. Trust is something you have to earn. I’ve been at this just over 3 years, and I try my best, but I know some things are beyond my control. But what I hope you know is that, speaking as a priest and as a part of Saint Hubert’s, is that you can count on me and the staff. People here care about each other. If one person hurts, the entire parish is in one way hurting, and now we are all hurting very deeply. I’m not going to have all of the answers, I’m not going to be able to fix everything, but one thing I want you to know is that I am here for you, as are Deacons Jim and Tim and our entire staff. You have been nothing but welcoming to me as I’ve been here since last summer, and while I might struggle with remembering names sometime, I have to tell you being here is part of what makes priesthood such a blessing. I’m with people through good times and bad; I get to work with a great staff, and get to do the fun things like play kickball at recess, meet couples getting married, and get constant prayers and support from the people. And I hope you know that from the bottom of my heart, I am so thankful to you for what you have done for me – and I will try my best to help us heal as a community.

As we move forward, I’m sure there will be many questions of where do we go from here. I don’t have all of the answers yet. I will be meeting with staff and with officials from the Archdiocese to get further direction. One thing I can tell you is that Father Kevin Magner will be helping out. I got to know him when I was at Holy Name, as he was pastor of our neighboring parish Saint Anne’s. He’s in between assignments currently, and the archbishop asked him to help fill Masses. I will also say that I’ve gotten phone calls from the diocese of support, and many priest friends have also called asking me if there’s anything I need and expressing their support as well. The one thing that I can say to you with certainty is that we will get through this, because that’s what we do. When we hurt, we come together and help one another through the storm. We don’t ignore something, or hope it magically goes away – we face it, we deal with it, and we help one another heal.

My hope is that you keep yourselves and also Fr. Mike in your prayers, and that you know that the staff will be here to support you in any way we can, as will our Archdiocese. I don’t understand why there are such tragedies in the world such as cancer, or why sometimes people make decisions that hurt themselves and other people – and I will have more Good Fridays on my horizon as well as I grapple with the realities of pain, suffering and loss. Many days, I think of the prayer of the man whose son was dying in Mark 9:24: “Lord, I do believe, help my unbelief.” And He does in so many ways – be it in prayer, or in someone coming along like my mom or a random note from a parishioner that reminds me that people do care about me. There are a whole lot of things I won’t have figured out until I leave this earth, but one thing that I do is I trust. I trust that my Lord stands by me, and will never abandon me, no matter how strong the storms of life may blow. My hope is that you have that same trust as well – and know that our God and our Church that He gave us stand by us. Trusting in that, may we move forward on the journey, helping one another and never forgetting God’s love is the one constant that will never change, no matter how deep the darkness that we may have to go through may seem. God bless you, and know that you are in my heart and prayers every day. Good Friday was not the end of the story; Easter Sunday was, for we are a people of hope. And as we journey together through this, may that hope guide us and sustain us.

A very happy horse

I recently spent four nights in the Rapid City area, August 31st through the morning of the 4th. This was my second trip to the Black Hills. I went a couple of years ago with my mom, dad and sister, and was going to go with my sister this time around. Unfortunately she took a tumble at work, hurting her wrist which meant she was in a sling. Not the best thing to have when trying to hike on various trails and what not, so it was just me. I’ve traveled alone before, so was OK with it, and found the four days to be a very peaceful experience filled with many memories, even though I of course missed my sister.

I offered Mass on the morning of the 31st, packed up and headed out. Now, when I pack, I tend to throw everything in but the kitchen sink – we’re talking 10 pairs of underwear, 4 or 5 pairs of shorts, plenty of shirts, etc. You get the drift. Of course I still forgot one thing, shaving cream, but the good folks at Howard Johnson hooked me up when I got there. My trek to Rapid City took between 8 and 9 hours; I went down 60 over to I-90, and I have to say I REALLY like the 75 MPH speed limits once you cross into South Dakota.

My first stop was the Badlands National Park, near Wall, South Dakota. You see signs for “Wall Drug” starting at the Minnesota border, but my parents told me not to bother as it was a tourist trip and overrated, so I never did stop there. I ended up going into the park, wanting to see sunset and get some good color photographs as the color can really light up those rocks. I spent a good couple of hours there walking around, and got a few decent shots but wasn’t too happy with the others. I was really hoping to get the perfect sunset, but the colors were pretty harsh with the dark canyon – not like photographing a lake at sunset, this was much harder. One fun adventure came when some giant black bug came into my car that I’d never seen before. Anyone with me would have laughed, as I totally freaked out, trying to smash the thing with a bunch of papers, only to have it disappear never to be seen again. So, if after you read this I’m in the hospital from some strange disease, you now know what it is. Pathetic.

The one good thing from the Badlands though was the birding. Some very cool birds there, and did get a couple of nice shots, including a Western Meadowlark

I ended up staying there past sunset and then hitting I-90 back to Rapid City, where I checked into the Howard Johnson around 10 bells. I stayed at this hotel before, and really enjoy it. It was $297 after tax for four nights, fairly reasonable, and had a free breakfast, which was pretty good – rolls, toast, coffee, breakfast burritos, really what more do you need. They also had a workout room, which I mostly had to myself that was nice so I could workout before breakfast. Got up between 6 and 7 to do that, and then had breakfast and was off on my day 1 adventure.

Day one consisted mostly of going to Custer State Park. This place is absolutely wonderful. It’s about a half hour out of Rapid City, and is quite large – the largest state park in the US I believe. I did the “Wildlife Loop” which included many, many Buffalo. There were also donkeys that came right up to you and were very sweet. Other wildlife seen there included Pronghorn, and Elk – including a 12-point buck. Some cool birds here as well including the Mountain Bluebird, a lovely bird that I was so happy to see. I saw one on day one, but some guy drove by and scared him off. I ended up going back and seeing more Buffalo, the elk, and these birds which was so great. I even said a little prayer asking to see them, and it worked out ). Shot a number of pictures, and they are a beautiful bird, aren’t they?

Mountain Bluebird

After this I proceeded onto the “Needles Highway,” a little stretch that takes you through some majestic overlooks, and includes spots where you go through a narrow tunnel, one car at a time. Pretty cool! The day ended with me ascending Harney Peak, a 3 mile and change hike up the tallest peak east of the Rockies – some more cool views there on the trail, but I’m glad it didn’t rain on me. I then headed back to Rapid City to crash and do it again the next day.

Day 2, Thursday, I decided to head west. This was a VERY windy day, so naturally I tried to go up another mountain at Bear Butte State Park. I’d heard about this place, and it was very nice, and really loved the mountain as soon as I saw it. I went in (and should have thought better when I saw I was like the only car in the lot – real smart, Paul) and was greeted by a polite woman behind the counter. I asked about climbing and she warned me about the wind, to which I asked “well, is it possible to do it in this wind?” to which she said “oh, yeah, I’ve gone up to the top to get the trash when it was this windy.” Now bear in mind I’ve got a big camera bag. So, undeterred, I began my climb. I made it up halfway and decided to not continue to court death. The wind wasn’t the problem; it was the narrow trail with the wind, so looking to my left or right and seeing an ever-growing cliff made me decide to go back down said mountain. I still did get a few good shots. It was a very peaceful place, and is sacred to the Native American tribe who use it for prayer services often. Windy, yes, but still I’m glad I went there. I came back down and asked about a cool farmhouse I’d read about, and a ranger gave me directions to an abandoned school I thought would make a good picture, but I had no luck. C’est la vie. I still found a cool shack I took a picture of though.

So, after going through here, I decided to head west towards Devils Tower to check out the UFO base. Actually, I’d always wanted to see it, and was told by the ranger of a nice back way in, and a good cafe. He did direct me well. I found myself taking a very nice drive into Wyoming, where I went through Aladdin, home of Cindy B’s. Delicious burger, and great cafe. You know you are just going to love a place when they have the horse at the top on the counter.

The food was great, and the character even better. Only cooler was there was no chocolate pie that day; apparently Cindy makes whatever she’s in the mood for, and lists it on the fridge in the background. Banana Cream and Coconut cream where the pies of the day, and certainly good, but being very much a chocolate person I just decided to skip dessert and continue west.

I continued along into Wyoming, and saw Devil’s Tower begin to arise, and shot numerous pictures along the way. I then came into the park itself, and this was amazing. I walked near the tower, and met some Minnesotan’s from Crystal (having met some more at Cindy’s of all places!) and also walked on some of the nearby trails, where there were some unique birds. The high point though was watching the stars come out. There’s a nearby trail just a short walk from the monument, and I found it photogenic. I waited for the stars to come out, and there wasn’t really anyone around. An introvert’s delight, but also very spiritual and peaceful. Said some prayers, and really it was one of the most peaceful moments of my life. God as the artist was certainly at work.

Stars come out over Devil's Tower

I then made my way back down the windy roads to Rapid City.

The final day of my trip I decided to get up early and head back to the Badlands. Who wouldn’t want to backtrack 50 miles to see the sun come up, right? I got up and headed west, and arrived just in the nick of time to see the sun come up. Again, I did get a few decent shots, but was hoping for even a little more. I then went back to the hotel, worked out, had breakfast, and decided to visit Spearfish Canyon, a beautiful area of creeks and trees. Shot plenty of pictures here (still working on editing them) and then wound up at Custer State Park again, where I found that elusive bluebird, and was treated to the elk, pronghorn, and buffalo heard. I stuck around until near sunset, and tried to find a good place to watch the sun go down. I had no real idea where to go, so I drove atop Mount Coolidge, and the view was beautiful but my shots were just of the sunset, and no real landscape, a bit of a letdown. To my surprise, as I journeyed down the mountain, the gate at the end to let me back on to the road was closed?! (Call me crazy but how about a sign that says “gate closes at…”? Thankfully I flashed  my brights and a truck about to leave turned around, and a park employee opened it, saying “oh, sorry, thought everyone was off the mountain.” That would have been a bad thing.

I then wound my way back towards Rapid City. I was able to visit Crazy Horse monument, as they had a night show going on, and I even got in for free as the gates were open but they stopped charging as the show had started. (I did find someone and offered to pay, but they told me not to worry about it). This was kind of a pleasant surprise, as I didn’t think I’d have time to visit, but I did make it up there and it’s impressive – they’ll be working on it for years to come though.

Oops, almost forgot to mention, yes, I did visit Rushmore too. Kind of a standard stop out there. I had visited before, but wanted to go back and this time arrived at night. It’s quite pretty in the evening, but what I really liked was the lightning. A storm had passed, and it was light rain off and on, but to the east were lightning bolts. I’d been trying to capture them during the summer but hadn’t had much success. I did like the way this turned out:

Lightning from a passing storm

It was fun to see, and thankfully not be in!

So, in a nutshell, it was one wonderful trip. I love exploring places with my camera, and hiking, and can’t wait to get back. Saturday I drove back, and made it back in time for dinner with my parents. Redstone can’t compete with Cindy B’s, but it’ll do.



The Mass of the day was for the 14th Sunday of Ordinary Time, but being it also coincided with Independence Day, I decided to focus on patriotism and what it means to be an American and a Christian, talking a bit also about the first reading that day which spoke of Jerusalem and “rejoicing because of her.” (Isaiah 66:10-14c was the full reading).

On a side note, I realize it’s been 3 months since I updated this blog…pretty lame I admit. I do hope to do it more often, and apologize for being a little lax. Anyways, here’s my homily from the Fourth of July. God bless!

-Fr. Paul

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Robert VanDerslice, like millions of people, found himself one morning waiting on a seat in a crowded airport for his boarding call. While looking around though amidst the crowd, he saw a rather unusual sight. There was an elderly man sitting across from him, facing a large picture window that gave passengers a view of the runway. Robert notes that the eyes of the man reflected a life of hardship, and as he looked at the man, he noticed tears streaming down from his eyes. Wanting to do something, Robert walked over to him and asked if he could join him, asking the man if he was alright.

There was silence at first, and then the man asked “did you stand when she walked by?” Confused by the question, Robert said he didn’t understand. He then looked at him in his eyes, and asked again, “did you stand when she walked by?” Still confused, Robert told him that he didn’t understand, and asked the man if he stood when she walked by, with no clue as to who “she” could be. At this point, the elderly man turned and looked out the window to the tarmac. It seemed that the conversation was over.

Robert began to walk away, but was still troubled by the question. He boarded his plane, and found his seat as the plane began to clear the gate. He then looked back at the terminal that he had left, where he saw the man sitting alone facing the tarmac. He was still alone, and Robert saw that several others walked up to him, but left confused, shaking their heads, or just leaving quickly. And yet the man continued to stare out the window. It was then that Robert was able to see what the man was staring at.

About 300 yards away was a plane surrounded by military personnel. Watching from his plane, he saw a small procession of six men carrying a flag draped coffin away from the plane to a waiting hearse, where they stood after the rear door of the black car had been closed and they offered a salute as the car drove slowly away. He looked back to the window of the terminal, where the man was sitting still, offering a salute but not standing, for he was confined to a wheel chair.

The plane hadn’t completely left the gate yet, and Robert was able to get off the plane has it had a rolling stair gantry for passenger access. He walked quickly and headed for the terminal, back to the elderly man. He walked up next to him, and faced the plane as another coffin draped with the flag was placed in a waiting hearse, and this time he raised his hand in salute, allowing his hand to drop only when the hearse rolled out of view around a security fence.

The elderly man once again looked at Robert, visibly moved. He said in a quivering voice, “Thank you sir…for what you did. My greatest wish these days is to stand again for her, but I can’t. I gave my legs in ’43 and my oldest son in ’67 to that Lady, so she could keep walking. It hurts when no one cares that she walks by.”

Robert ended up missing that flight, but writes “my heart and soul found wings to the heavens on the words of a 90-year old man who dared to share a heart full of memories with me and dared to remind me why Old Glory still waves as the beacon of hope in a lost world.”

Sadly, I think Robert’s story is all-too common. The people around this man were not cruel; they tried to reach out to give him comfort. And were I in Robert’s situation, I probably wouldn’t have put the pieces together right away either. But at a deeper level, what the veteran asks Robert is something for us all to think about. We might stand before the start of baseball games, but how do we value our country? In our first reading, we hear “rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad because of her.” Jerusalem to the Israelites was a very important place; hence the lament that the people felt when they were exiled from there to Babylon. But now, the people are to rejoice that the city is no longer described by the prophet as a “poor window bereft of her children” but rather is now likened to a mother of a large family with plenty of resources to keep them alive and healthy. This passage is written at a time where the threats of war and famine had faded, and is now secure with plenty of things that make life worth living. God’s grace is so abundance it is like a river of water that flows through the streets. And with so many children playing in her streets, Jerusalem’s future is full of life and promise. Perhaps this is what Francis Scott Key thought when he wrote the “Star Spangled Banner,” the national anthem – a song we’ve heard millions of times, but probably haven’t thought much about. He was aboard a British ship at the time, negotiating the exchange of prisoners in the War of 1812, when he saw Fort McHenry being bombarded. But after the bombs literally burst in the air, the flag was still flying. On the one hand he saw the threats all around him, but on the other he saw the greatness of his country and believed that there was something worth fighting for. Do we believe the same today? I’m not suggesting that everyone join the army, or fly Old Glory from their home day in and day out, or feel the need to talk about love of country constantly – for patriotism is, I think, something deeper. American has had, and will always have plenty of faults – for we are humans, and human beings make mistakes. But among some, there is an apathy that can set in; where some just don’t get involved in things beyond those things that directly affect them. Others are quick to offer criticism, bashing America for things done in the past; or even the way the government is being run currently, and might be quick to solve the world’s problems over a cup of coffee, but don’t have much in the way of solutions. Even today, Independence Day, is often called “Fourth of July,” rather than by it’s actual name. But as Christians living in this country, we have a duty to live out the virtue of hope, given to us by the Holy Spirit. That doesn’t mean sitting around, waiting for heaven, and hoping for the best when we die. It means setting about making this world a better place by being active in it – just as the seventy two who are sent out by Jesus in our Gospel today.

And so, on this Independence Day, I’d just invite us to think about patriotism in our lives, and what it means. Besides being a priest, I’m a member of the Knights of Columbus, and last year went through the Fourth Degree. You might think these are just the guys who get a sword and occasionally show up in a tuxedo at formal events, but each degree within the Knights has a focus, and patriotism is the focus of the Fourth Degree. It’s not about simply wearing a lapel pin; rather it’s a way of life that one must embrace. But I also think that it’s something we all must embrace if we are going to call ourselves both Christians and Americans, having a proper perspective on patriotism in 2010.

For one, it involves knowing our roots and where we came from. Catholics have at times been accused of not knowing the Bible from those who don’t share our faith; and sometimes we could have done a better job on that, but the Church has consistently embraced studying the Bible and promoting knowledge of it. Hence we had two Bible studies here at Saint Hubert’s over the past year, and talk about the readings at each Mass, and have things like Bible study guides and Catholic study Bibles with footnotes. Even so, sometimes we get tripped up on what the Church teaches, based on what we might have learned or heard. But we can’t let faith formation end on our Confirmation day, which is why ideally we are always trying to grow in faith through both prayer and study. There is no civic equivalent though of CCD class. We might get basic American History in high school, but I think it’s important for us to know our nation’s history, of why we value liberty and freedom. There’s no need to enroll in a community college history class, but at the library and book store are numerous great books on our nation’s history, and even on television on the History Channel you get programming highlighting the presidents, and there was a recent documentary on America’s formation. If you have access to a video store or get movies online, all of this kind of thing is available. Consider checking it out so you don’t end up like the person on Jay Leno’s “Jaywalking” who thinks our first president was Benjamin Franklin.

Secondly, pray for our country, including both our civic leaders and our troops and their families. In the Sacramentary, the red book that the priest uses for Mass, are a number of what’s called votive Masses. These are Masses the priest can offer during the week for various needs. They include Masses for our city, country, Congress and president. I did this on Flag Day, which was back on June 14^th, and do it on Memorial Day, and would be doing it today were it not a Sunday, where the Mass to be said is not to be altered. These days though we can be more polarized than ever. I have political views, and enjoy political talk shows, but I also think it’s important that we pray for all of our leaders, no matter what party they are affiliated with.

Third, we need help make sure apathy doesn’t set in for ourselves, and for future generations, by teaching them what this country stands for and about sacrifices made by those who have gone before us. Sue McCarthy is a Girl Scout troop leader in upstate New York a Syracuse. One day she heard an American Legion post commander talk about the hundreds of American flags he wanted for his post to place at the cemetery for Memorial Day. She responded by asking the commander if he wanted any help. And so, she organized Girl Scouts from around the area to do a flag project. McCarthy said that the girls learned about what those in the military had sacrificed and how their service had touched everyone in America. The girls also learned a lot about our nation’s past, finding a grave from the Spanish American War to getting to know both recent and older veterans, and learned with some surprise that there were also women among the tombs. They would stop at each tomb, recite a prayer, and thank the person. Two thousand flags were placed that day, and after that the troop adopted a platoon to send them Girl Scout cookies and cards. Locally, when I offered Memorial Day Mass and had a cemetery blessing, I saw a number of families present both here at church and at the cemetery. We’re not all called to military service, and we don’t have to do extensive projects, but it can be so easy to take our freedoms for granted and never give anything back in return. Whether it’s joining an organization that supports the troops, or just visiting a place like Fort Snelling National Cemetery to say a prayer or conversing with a veteran, there are so many things we can do to give back to those who have given so much for our freedom.

And finally, we need to be active citizens. This means more than listening to talk radio or complaining about the government over lunch. We need to be aware of the issues affecting our community, state and nation. We need to actively vote; now easier than ever with absentee balloting always an option. If we don’t like something, we should call, e-mail or write our representatives. One letter or phone call might not sway an opinion, and sometimes it can feel pointless when we look at how many people vote or who is in power, but it’s important to make our opinion known, and to know the background of an issue. A lot of political issues also relate to Catholic Social Teaching. What the Church teaches is often dissected or given based on a quote of some bishop or Vatican official; but the social teaching of the Church is vast and can’t be reduced to a soundbite. If you go to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops’ website, or the Vatican web site, you will find numerous documents on social teaching, from economics to human life issues. Archbishop Charles Chaput of Denver also has an excellent book entitled “Render Unto Caesar,” which answers the question what it means to be an American and Catholic and how we should evaluate political issues. There is also an excellent collection of Catholic Social Teaching compiled in a book called “Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church.” My hunch is most of these documents go largely unread, and all we get in terms of what the Church has to say on a social issue is frequently a sound bite or a statement from some “Vatican official” that’s often taken out of context. Remember though when you read these, the Church isn’t making direct comments on specific policies passed by our government; and you might not even agree with everything stated in a particular document. We aren’t necessarily talking about dogmas here, but what we are talking about are policies the Church encourages us to look at the get at the dignity of the human person and, at a deeper level, affect a person’s very freedoms that we celebrate this day – life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, in terms of the freedom to find work, to care for a family, to immigrate, and to have adequate health care. It’s important to be open to what the bishops have to say, and even if you might not agree with parts of a document, it’s important to remember that they are written based on what Jesus says is at the heart of the law, loving God and neighbor.

Were I in that airport that day, I too would have been confused by the elderly man’s question, “did you stand?” I probably would have been focused on waiting for my flight, or walking around, and not have seen the coffin with the flag in the distance. It’s so easy take liberty, and what we have as Americans for granted. Our nation, like our Church, isn’t perfect. But because of what people have sacrificed for us, from July of 1776 to today, we have a remarkable place where the freedoms God has given us can be lived out. Let’s make sure we never take them for granted, and use what God has given us and others have helped preserve for us by praying for our country, by being an active citizen, and living out the virtue of hope by making this nation a better place. Flag-waving, watching fireworks and standing at the start of a baseball game for the National Anthem all have their place, but hopefully when we do those things we take time to reflect upon what they really symbolize, remembering the words in our Declaration, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” are words to be lived every day of our lives by helping to make this country great. May God bless our nation, and may we never take the gift that is our citizenship for granted.

I always try to make it a point to be welcoming to people, and thank them for coming. I think Christmas and Easter give priests an opportunity to plant some mustard seeds, and encourage people to take their faith to the next level. Part of that means encouraging people to come back to Church who have been away, letting them know they are welcome. But there may be someone who goes to Mass daily and also has a lot of spiritual dryness if you will; or not a real relationship with God. Everyone is at a different spot in their faith journey, and I don’t have some super-power that can allow me to see into souls. All I can try to do is to let people know the truth: that we have a God whose love knows no bounds. And so, I tried to talk about Easter as being a process of transformation. The main point of the homily was that we need to allow Christ into our lives to help us, and to help ease our pain, and then we need to run fromt the empty tomb if you will to tell others that this invitation is there for them too.

I’m not sure if it worked or not, becuase like I said everyone knows the story. But hopefully it gave people something to think about. Faith is a process; the cast of characters in our Gospel from today (John 20:1-9) still have work to do; they don’t fully understand what has happened even by the end of this Gospel. But they will gradually become people on fire for the faith, and people who are OK with their past mistakes because they’ve allowed God’s love to transform them. Hopefully we do the same.

Here’s my homily for Easter – God bless and have a joyous season!

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Rudyard Kipling, in his short story “The Gardener,” tells the story of a woman named Helen who has a big heart. Her brother, George, having “entangled himself with the daughter of a retired non-commissioned officer,” died of a fall from a horse a few weeks before his child was born. And while she could have looked the other way, she took charge, and arranged to take the child in.

Naturally it being England around 1920, questions would arise about a single woman having a child. But, “All these details were public property, for Helen was as open as the day, and held that scandals are only increased by hushing them up,” And so she lives as an open book, or so it would seem.

Taking the child in and raising him, she has him christened, and shows him love. By the time though he was six, he began to wonder why he could not call her “mummy,” as the other boys called their mothers. She explained to him that she was only his auntie, and aunties weren’t quite the same as mummies, but that if he so desired, he could call her that at bedtime as a pet-name between themselves. And even though he did as she asked, he was quite angry when he found out that his aunt Helen told her friends that she was his aunt – for he wanted others to think of her as his mother. “Why did you tell? Why did you tell?” he yelled to his aunt. Her response, as she held him close: “Because it’s always best to tell the truth.” This, apparently, soothed him, and his response was “All right, but when the troof’s ugly I don’t think it’s nice.” And Helen continued to hold him close as the years went by. She was at his side always, whether it was nursing him back to health from measles, or spending Christmas, Easter and summers together.

Time wore on, and Michael grew – all set to go off to Oxford, when the First World War broke out. He decided to enlist in the army. He and his aunt supposed to meet up when he has some time for leave, but plans change as his leave is cut short. Shortly after this, he writes his beloved aunt to tell her not to worry, as his regiment isn’t seeing any action, and things are relatively quiet – but it’s just after this letter is written that a shell hits him and he is instantly killed. Helen is devastated.

On travelling to the graveyard, Helen happens to sit with a woman who is part of the War Graves Commission, Mrs. Scarsworth, a volunteer who takes care of the cemeteries, and who regularly visits soldier’s final resting places. Initially their conversation doesn’t go very deep – they talk about the soldiers, and about the commission, and the only thing Helen really reveals about herself is that she is there to visit her nephew’s grave. After they go their separate ways, Mrs. Scarsworth goes to Helen’s hotel room, and says that there is something she has to tell someone and can keep secret no longer – one of the graves is no stranger, but her son she never told anyone about. She carries shame and remorse for some of her decisions, and so she feels the need to confess to Helen and do penance by visiting graves, thinking her son was better than she. Sadly, she feels unable to let anyone know that of her son’s grave, for to do so might cause people to think less of him. And so, the best she can do is hide who she really is, and volunteer for the commission and visit the grave in secret as his mother.

Having had this exchange, Helen makes her way to the cemetery, where she is greeted by a man who appears to be a gardener. He pops his head out from behind a line of headstones, while he’s “firming a young plant in the soft earth.” He rises as she comes towards him, and without any question on her part, he asks her “who are you looking for?” Her response is the same thing she has said for years – “Lieutenant Michael Turrell – my nephew.” He looks at her with compassion and says “come with me, and I will show you where your son lies.”

The story ends with her leaving the cemetery turning for one last look, and the last image we have is of a man bending over young plants and of Helen going away, “supposing him to be the gardener.”

It’s a beautiful story that in many ways is similar to the story of the resurrection – for in that story, Mary Magdalene, one of the first witnesses of the resurrection, also encounters a person she thinks is a gardener. That Gospel will actually be read on Tuesday morning, but my suspicion is we won’t have as many people here on Easter Tuesday, so I’ll fill you in on the rest of the story now. As John’s Gospel continues where it leaves off today, Mary will turn to Jesus in a panicked state. John tells us that she looks at Jesus, initially thinking he’s the gardener, and says “they have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where they have laid him!” She asks her Lord, still thinking that he’s the gardener, to show her where Jesus has been laid. It’s then that He calls her by name – “Mary” – and her eyes are opened, and she says in response “Rabbouni!” In both that Gospel and the one from tomorrow, we hear how Mary and the other women who come to the tomb run from it to proclaim that Jesus has been raised.

Mary is of course not the only one who is confused. Peter and the beloved disciple John run to the tomb. John doesn’t go in at first; and then Peter arrives and does go in, but is perplexed. John then goes in, and does believe, but doesn’t understand fully yet what has happened. The Gospel concludes with the words “For they did not yet understand that Scripture that He had to rise from the dead.”

We’ve heard this Gospel year after year, and seemingly know what Easter is about – Jesus rising from the dead. But, the resurrection has to be something that we allow to transform us, as it would transform Mary, Peter, John and those who are still grieving the loss of their teacher, friend and Lord. And, once that happens, we have to be like Mary and the apostles who will become like the people we hear in our first reading, people who boldly proclaim Jesus in word and action.

Our starting point takes us back to last night. At the Easter vigil, the church was in darkness, and a fire was lit and blessed. Then the Paschal Candle was lit, and one by one from that candle, countless other candles were lit. The Paschal Candle represents Christ, and the other candles that everyone held symbolized how at their baptism, when Christ’s light filled their soul, that same thing is to happen throughout life as well.

For that to happen though, we first have to open our eyes and have some trust. Helen in Kipling’s story was Michael’s real mother – but just like Mrs. Scarsworth, she feels she needs to keep this hidden based on the society she lives in. Things weren’t all that different in the time of Jesus. Peter abandoned Jesus when Jesus was most alone. John and the rest of the disciples at the Last Supper, when Jesus told them what was going to happen with someone betraying him, start arguing about which one of them it is and then about which one of them will be greatest in heaven. These realities of their past are things they would probably prefer remain hidden. But for true change to happen, the truth needs to come out and we need to be OK with our shadowy sides, rather than bury them. Daniel O’Leary, an English priest and writer, stated that “until our own divided self first makes friends with our own leprosy and wolves – the liar, the hypocrite, the coward within – there will be no peace around us” and that for us to find the way home, we have to greet and forgive our demons. That process isn’t easy, and involves climbing a mountain. But the only way that that mountain can be climbed, says O’Leary, is for “God to lovingly support us with a passion.” We need to put our unconditional support and trust into Jesus, and let His love take over. All of us have things in our past we regret, for each human being is a mix of a person who makes great decisions and helps people one day, and who does an action they regret the next. The Christian can’t just focus on the happy thoughts – but must focus on the truth. And the truth is this. We are a people who are wounded, who make mistakes, but a people who are infinitely loved by God. Just as the gardener in Kipling’s story met Helen where she was – without her even asking him a thing, knowing that she carried pain in her heart and the truth of who Michael is to her – and guided her – our Lord does the same for us. So continue to let the light of His love shine on your souls, and don’t deny the shadows are there – use the rest of your lives guided by God’s love to help yourself overcome them. You may well fall again, but take to heart the words of Paul in our second reading, “think of what is above,” because God thinks of what is below – you and me here on earth. One of the details that struck me in that story was how the gardener was tending the young plant, and it’s the same thing with us and God. A plant takes time to grow; the gardener though knows this and sees the potential that is invisible at the time to the naked eye, below the surface. Hopefully we used Lent to open ourselves up to the light and water provided by our God called grace – let’s make sure that continues through Easter and the rest of your lives. So find time for prayer in your life, even if it’s just a few minutes; consider praying as a family; make time for spiritual reading; and also know that this church is a place where you should always feel welcome, whether you come every day or twice a year. It’s no secret that Easter and Christmas find attendance suddenly up a bit and pew space at more of a premium. Believe it or not, ordination as a priest did not give me a secret power to see and know instantly who is here semi-annually or daily, or the state of one’s soul. And even if I could, what I would do is try to see everyone with the eyes of Christ – with love. If you have been away for a while, welcome back, and try to make Mass a part of your life, because in so many ways it’s where the gardener finds us. It gives us the chance to pray together and strengthen one another; to hear the Scripture and reflect on it in our daily lives, and to, in Holy Communion, have Jesus Himself come into our hearts and souls. Never take for granted what a great gift we have in the Mass. Yes, it is true some days the homily will leave something to be desired, the music might be sub-par, or you just might be tired and thinking about the stress of Monday morning – but at each and every Mass, the gardener comes to you. But for help to be received, one first has ask for help. And, once we do, we have to help one another do the same.

It is true that growing in grace and letting Christ transform us is a life-long process, but what is also true is that we are called to help one another on the journey. That is the other part of the Easter story – to be like Mary and Peter who run to the tomb, but also to be like Mary and Peter who run from the tomb. The Peter we meet in our first reading is very different – apparently – from the Peter of Good Friday’s passion. But he is the same person in some respects. He is still a sinner. He still denied Jesus. And he will sin again. But what has changed now is he allowed the Master to transform him, and he sets out trying to transform the world. You and I, through our baptism, are called to do the same thing. What does that look like? I think the Holy Father said it best. In his homily last year on Easter, he said that “we do not necessarily have to think of great saints like Augustine, Francis of Assisi, Teresa of Avila, Mother Teresa of Calcutta and so on, people through whom rivers of living water truly entered into human history. Thanks be to God, we find them constantly even in our daily lives….when a person experiences great joy, he cannot keep it to himself. He has to express it, to pass it on.” So, pass it on. Show kindness to a co-worker with whom you may have had a rocky relationship or an old grievance. Try to take the steps towards reconciling with a loved one or a friend with whom you are estranged by asking God in your prayer to help you move past anger, and consider picking up the phone to contact them. When you are in the break room or the hallway at school and people start gossiping about someone, take a stand and don’t join in. So often chances to proclaim our faith come before us, and while part of that certainly entails using our voices to talk with others about what we believe, I think often actions speak louder than words and by doing these seemingly simple actions, people might look at us as odd. For instance, whether you are 15 and don’t take a drink at a party or whether you are 45 and turn down golfing and instead tell your friends “sorry, I have a date with my wife,” at a deeper level people see the faith in action in you by how you live it.   That is how we can be a modern-day Mary of Magdala, running not from the tomb but from our celebration today and proclaim to the world what our faith looks like in action.

At times I’ve felt like Helen or Mrs. Scarsworth, needing to put on a good outside image and sometimes feeling like I can’t open up and be the real me – that I wasn’t holy enough to be a priest, or that sins I’ve battled must be kept forever tucked away and hidden. At times I’ve been emotionally devastated like Helen, suffering loss or being with others in their loss. And at other times, just like Helen and the apostles before the Resurrection, God has felt far away. But every day in my life are gardeners who help show me the way. People like my parents, who have been there for me every step of the way to guide me and give me support. People like my grandfather Henry, who died on Easter Sunday 7 years ago, who taught me so many things like how to play cribbage to how to be a person of faith and prayer. And people like the many parishioners here at Saint Hubert’s and Holy Name of Jesus, my previous assignment, who have been so supportive of me in my ministry and lived out their faith in the parish in so many ways. It truly is amazing as I look at my life at how many people have broken down the walls that can sometimes be in front of me and helped me to see God again, and to know His love and presence.

I hope it’s a truly wonderful Easter for you with your family. Enjoy the ham, the family get-togethers, and hunting for what the Easter bunny brought you if you haven’t done so already. But know that today ultimately isn’t about finding an Easter basket. It’s about our Lord finding us, giving us the greatest gift we can imagine – His love and His hand that leads to the gates of heaven, opened with His blood. So, enjoy the day – but through this day and the rest of your lives, live out the words of Saint Paul, and seek what is above helping one another to do the same.

I do have to see my eye doctor once a year, and while my prescription has leveled off now that I’m in my 30s, for years every two years I needed a slightly stronger pair of glasses. Our souls though never “level off.” What that means is faith for the Christian must be a real process of growth. From the readings this week (Year “A” cycle being used at our parish due to RCIA) we get that. We have a man born blind (John’s 9th chapter). He’s never seen anything. Then along comes Jesus, and he senses Jesus can heal him. But we also have a faith journey unfolding. Initially, he has trust in what Jesus says. Then, he can see. By the end of the Gospel though he’s a man on fire.

How do we grow in faith? My homily tries to look at that. I gave this one once, and then used an older homily for the second round as I sensed it was a little long and fell flat – a priest can just sometimes tell. I think it’s probably better in written format to read.

Here’s the readings for the day used: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031410a.shtml

And here’s the homily. Have a great day! – Fr. Paul

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Anne Rice is one of the most popular horror novelists, having 27 novels with more than 100 million copies in print. But then, starting a few years ago, she got away from writing vampire stories to stories chronicling the life of Christ, declaring that from now on, she would be only writing “for the Lord.”

Why the change? Rice was born into a Roman Catholic family, and as a child, loved reading about the saints, and being immersed in the beauty of churches and chapels in her home of New Orleans, finding joy in religion. But she also lived in a highly rigid world, learning the lives of the saints, studying the catechism and getting highly-detailed answers to complex questions, and seeing Church history as a story of triumph over schism and reformation, culminating in the papacy of Pius XII. Everyone around her was Catholic, and it was the only world she knew, until she stepped out of her neighborhood.

She says that on the college campus, she had a world without Catholicism, and got acquainted with good people who read books that were ones Catholics just did not read – books by people like Sartre and Camus, philosophers who were not believers in organized religion. In her words, “As the rigid Catholic I was, I had no options for exploration. I broke with the Church. And I broke with my belief in God.”

Two years later, she married a passionate atheist, Stan Rice, and while it was a loving relationship, God was not in the picture. Anne says that both she and her husband made writing, not God, the center of their lives. Anne of course went on to write those vampire novels for which she is famous, but as she looks back on them, she sees that they are reflective of her journey trying to find meaning in a world without God. But, gradually, the questions she was asking led her to see not darkness or absence of God, but rather a presence of a loving God who is intimately a part of our lives.

One of the biggest questions she had was how Christianity emerged, and how despite all they have gone through the Jewish people have survived. She says that mystery was what helped draw her back to God. And so in 1998, she came back to the Church. She certainly had her questions and concerns – and admittedly she struggles with some Church teachings. But despite all of this, she says she came to understand that she didn’t have to know the answer to all these questions, because God did. He was the God who made the universe, DNA, the wind and the rain and each individual snowflake. She wanted to know all the answers, but she knew full well this just couldn’t happen. What she did come to know is that God is love, and He is a God who loves her deeply. And this same God was holding everyone in His loving hands – from the atheist, to those who die untimely deaths, to those dying in the horrors of war – He was holding them all, and knew the full story.

But, this didn’t mean that faith for Anne was some kind of leap in the dark. Anne began to see God all around her, but that didn’t mean that doctrine and principles didn’t matter. She says that what it meant that was “I put myself in the hands of God entirely and that my faith would light the pages I read in the Book of Life from then on.” Love and trust filled her heart, and she sees faith as a gift given to her on that day back in 1998. But it was also a faith that she built upon. For while Anne may have had the faith re-awakened that summer, she fed it through prayer and growing in her understanding of it. Through her prayer life, she discerned that God was calling her to write entirely for Him. Now writing about Jesus Christ, she has poured through research to gain a greater understanding of the Lord. She’s a person who I think is an advocate for a deep faith fostered by a prayer life, but also a faith that uses the mind. And so she’s done just that, devoting her writing now to Jesus Christ.

I love Anne’s story, because I think it in so many ways exactly what we have in our Gospel today: a journey from darkness into light that comes first through trust, and then is perfected by a willingness to open the mind and heart. The challenge for us is to be like Anne and the blind man, gaining sight and perfecting it by learning what it is we are seeing, and also to make sure we don’t stay stuck in the blindness that can sometimes fill our lives when we put God out of the picture, much like the Pharisees do in our Gospel.

Let’s look at that first part, trust. For Anne, a key part of coming back to the faith was having trust. Try as she might, she couldn’t find complete answers to the many questions she had about the world, how it works, and history until the one her heart found – that God has a plan and is in control, knowing us better than we know ourselves. This is the same thing the blind man does. Blindness is all he’s ever known; he has no sense of what it was like to ever see. Then, Jesus comes to him and gives him freely this gift of sight in a strange way – using mud and saliva. (Perhaps he must have had the Archdiocesan Health Insurance plan.) The real reason for the use of that is it was believed saliva could heal, and they were in part right – hence the term “lick your wounds,” which is what animals do. Mud was also used to create the first man, Adam; and just as humans were created out of dust, so too Jesus creates something new: a new person. Jesus then tells him to wash in the pool of Siloam, which symbolizes baptism. Adam, symbolizing the first human being, didn’t trust in God though completely, and fell away. This man does, and because of it, he gains sight. But it’s not quite 20/20 vision yet.

As the story progresses, he is able to come to understand the gift he has been given in greater detail, as his faith is deepened. Notice at first, his response to the Pharisees inquiries is that he followed the instructions of Jesus, and now he sees just the facts – “He put clay on my eyes, and I washed, and I see.” There is no assertion yet of the fact that Jesus is divine. Then, as they approach the blind man again, he says that Jesus is a prophet. Then when they keep pestering him, he replies “It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” Finally, when Jesus tells Him that He is the Son of Man, he says “I do believe, Lord.”  He has a faith journey, so much so that others can’t recognize him; people say “hey, isn’t this the man who used to sit and beg,” and some think it’s him, others think he’s someone else. It’s a perfect story for Lent, because when faith takes root in us, much like with that man, there should be a change in us as well. No longer is he a beggar or one in the shadows – he’s a man on fire by the end of the Gospel.

The Pharisees, however, stay stuck at the first phase – seeing with the eyes, but not the mind and heart, which ironically makes them blind to God’s glory. Initially, the man born blind just sees the facts – he was born blind, and now this man has given him vision. The Pharisees also see a man born blind who can now clearly see, but they never understand the story behind the story. Rather, they stay focused on trying to figure out his sin, as people who were poor or who had disabilities and impairments were seen as having some sort of sin and being punished by God. Jesus may have cured him, but he couldn’t be from God because He cured on the Sabbath. But then if he cured, then He must be holy. The Pharisees though don’t think beyond that level and follow out their logic. Even his parents have a hard time with what has happened, and remain blind to the truth. Fearing they might be tossed out of the Synagogue for having faith in Jesus, they punt back to their son – saying go talk to him, he’s an adult.  Their son though comes to understand the truth, and confronts the Pharisees with the truth that they prefer to ignore. The son though won’t back down. They start mocking him, feeling secure in saying they are disciples of Moses – essentially we know it all, who do you think you are? He calls them out though. He challenges them to start to think, saying “If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” But they just can’t get there – instead, the Pharisees remain blind, and do throw him out – but he’s found by Jesus and is transformed, seeing with his eyes but also seeing with his heart and soul who this man is before Him, professing his faith at the end of the Gospel.

The challenge for us is to not only believe as this man did, but to take the faith to the next level. The Pharisees thought they could sum up the blind man, thinking that before them was just a sinner – but in reality he was a man of deep faith. When we look at all around us, we can at times be a bit like those Pharisees. We look at a big house, an expensive car, or a celebrity that seemingly has it all and think this is what really matters in life, which is why so many focus on trying to obtain heaven on earth. Or when we hit difficult parts of our lives, perhaps we feel like Anne in those vampire stories – journeying in darkness looking for hope, light and answers. Like Anne Rice, whose vampire stories reflect her own life and faith journey, we can look at some of the darker things in history and see nothing but darkness, and a world without God. On Ash Wednesday, before us were ashes, and we may have thought “what is the point of it all, nothing matters, we’ll all just end up like those ashes.” And indeed, ashes seemingly might seem to be the endgame. But through Lent, we journey towards the joy of Easter, where through our Lord’s Passion, we are redeemed, with the ashes and death that we seemingly were destined to return to becoming instead eternal life. Laetare Sunday symbolizes that. Laetare means rejoice, which is why in some churches, pink roses are placed near the altar, and hopefully we rejoice in the fact that we are redeemed. But to rejoice fully, we have to take the time to smell the roses too.

The ability to see the truth is something we all have – both the Pharisees the blind man can understand the fact before them that this man could not see and now can see. But to obtain true sight takes time to develop. That’s why our RCIA candidates and catechumen have worked so hard since fall – they have a desire to see and to learn. But it can’t end at the Easter vigil, and hopefully for us it did not end on our Confirmation day. Every person has that desire for God; it’s just that some can see it a bit more clearly and with greater depth. That is our challenge not just at Lent, but throughout our lives, seeing this God with greater clarity. Saint Paul says in our Second Reading, “Try to learn what is pleasing to the Lord.” They key word there is “learn.”

How we do that is by continually coming to Mass, to be nourished by the Word, but we also do it in other ways as well. We can read the Bible, but with it we should read those little footnotes too at the bottom to make sure we get a proper understanding of what it is we are reading. We can also take a dive into the treasure of spiritual works we are blessed to have in our Church, such as the Vatican II documents or just doing a search online for some of the writings of John Paul II and Pope Benedict. Or, we can get involved in a discussion group. I’ve had a chance to do just that with “2139,” our Young Adults Group.  It’s been wonderful having discussions on the faith at some of our gatherings as together, we’ve grown in the faith. The list of ways we can water the gift of faith we are given by God is endless.

What we must realize that faith isn’t some leap into the dark: Anne Rice was right when she writes about how faith and reason go hand-in-hand in our Church. She doesn’t just sit down and write novels about Jesus – rather she has researched Jesus extensively. To quote John Paul II, who wrote an encyclical entitled “Faith and Reason,” Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth. He points out that across cultures and time, so many, like Anne, have sought to answer that question “who am I, where have I come from and where am I going, and what is there after this life?” Hopefully we can have a proper balance of both, so we don’t think that we can figure it all out on our own, or go in the other direction of fundamentalism and assume the Bible is literal. In just our own time here on earth, we’ve seen how the Church has stressed faith while at the same time embracing reason, which is why we can be OK with both the earth revolving around the sun and the theory of evolution. Our reason helps us to see the bigger picture with greater clarity, just like the blind man came to see the facts before him with greater clarity, allowing him, just like the woman at the well, to see who Jesus was.

In talking about the day she decided to write for Christ, Anne says that: “…the day when I told the Lord I’d write for Him, and Him only, I now see as the most important single day of my entire life. Truly not the simplest things have been the same since. I am united in mind and body as never before. In fact it seems that every aspect of my life has been brought into a coherence that I’d never expected to see.” All that happened because she decided to trust the Lord to help cure her soul’s vision, and ever since she has been fine-tuning her prescription which is grace. We’ve been given the ability for that to happen; but it’s up to us to develop the grace that is the saliva and mud Jesus has placed on our souls. Sin, as life progresses, makes us more accustom to darkness than light. As such, some people never take their faith to the next level; they become content with the darkness of their lives and struggles. For some it’s an absence of God like Anne went through, but for most others, it’s the struggles of daily life and the sins that we feel at times we need to keep in the shadows; the addictions to sins of the flesh or looking at images on a computer; the habitual sins of lying; the excuses made to avoid family and friends to pursue selfish interests. Pick your sin – we all have them. But, as I said back on the First Sunday of Lent, this is the season for light – a joyful season to help us see the truth, which is God’s love for us is there, and the potential for spiritual greatness and citizenship in heaven is there for the taking if only we would unlock the grace He has given us. The light lit in a dark tomb some 2000 years ago that dispelled the darkness of Good Friday still burns brightly, and is burning in the hearts of us all, lit on the day of our baptism. Life choices sometimes try to put it out, but the kerosene that is grace and love is always there – all we have to do is see it and reach out and take it. The question is, are we going to remain in darkness and be content keeping our shadowy sides in the darkness, or think they are just always going to be part of who we are? Or are we going to trust in our Lord’s love, knowing that even if we take a fall again and again, He will be there to pick us up if we just see His hand, reach out and take it? Saint Paul says it best: “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.” May we use Lent and the rest of our lives to embrace the light, and make that light burn brighter and brighter which each passing day to see Him with 20/20 vision.