Last weekend, amidst one million faithful gathered around St. Peter’s Basilica and Vatican City, Pope Benedict XVI declared Pope John Paul II “Blessed”.  Giving great delight to the Church, Benedict now shares with us a continuous blessing by allowing us to invoke Blessed John Paul II in the midst of trial and suffering, joys and worship.  I’m particularly delighted because of the admiration I have for our late pontiff who lead the Church as I was preparing for priesthood in the late 90s.

As many of us go through our daily lives, we’ll have reason to beseech God’s continued grace to assist us, to be near us, to work within and around us; may we seek, too, the intercession of Blessed John Paul II.

Just over a week ago, we celebrated the Resurrection of Christ…and only this last Sunday did we complete the octave of Easter and enter more completely into the fifty days of the Easter Season.  All that having been said–and witnessed–you can tell by the lack of any new posts these few days that I’ve been away from the computer for awhile.  I haven’t been avoiding this  blog: on the contrary, I’ve missed doing the little bits of further reflection it requires.  But with a number of pressing needs, not least of which was the celebration of First Holy Communion this past weekend at our parish, and with a few administrative tasks fast approaching, I sensed that the blog would simply have to wait.

In these last ten days or so, I’ve been sensing myself enjoying a new spring in my step and that has led me to wonder about this “new life” that Christ has brought about as He is raised by the Father and the Spirit.  Surely the blossoms on all of our trees and shrubs are enticing, and the weather has been a bit warmer…and when it’s not raining I’m itching to get to the golf course (if only for an hour or so!)….  But it can’t be just these physical, natural conditions that are the cause or the ultimate root of my new energy after the long, drawn winter and lenten seasons.  Perhaps the ritual celebrations and representations of the mysteries of our profound and living faith had more of an impact on me during these last weeks and months?

I may not know why or how, but I wonder if this kind of living has been impacted by Easter in such a way that I might be “living amidst Christ’s resurrected life”?  His first word to His friends this past weekend was “Peace”.  He encouraged them to “behold” and “receive” Him.  And although they had done that a thousand different times during His three years of public ministry, this was a new peace, a new beholding, a new receiving.  The old is borne away to allow for the new and the new is so powerful indeed.

More reflections will come from this experience, I’m sure.  In the meantime, continue to rejoice in the risen life of Christ!  Every blessing,

Fr. David

04/17/2011

His Passion & Abandonment

It’s very clear in Matthew’s Gospel that Christ’s passion is made so completely sorrowful when we acknowledge that Christ is all alone. From the mensa where Judas leaves Him, to the garden where His companions encourage His isolation as they drift into sleep and He agonizes alone. From the abandonment of Peter in his denials to the cross where all set themselves apart from Him in their jeers and taunts. One of the greatest elements of Christ’s suffering is that He is completely cut off from all others. And as if that were not a deep enough suffering, even His Father isolates His Son when the Lord cries out, “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?” He is utterly alone.

Yet, this is not a complete picture of the depths of His abandonment. Surely he has been abandoned: the victim of isolation forced upon Him. But our second reading describes it even more completely when St. Paul writes, “Even though He was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God something to be grasped.” Here we begin to witness Christ’s active abandonment. No longer a victim who is cast off, but He casts Himself off: He leaves His divine stature in order to become man. But there’s more: He emptied Himself and took on our form, yet the form He takes is that of a slave, subjecting Himself to all other men. He has abandoned Himself in this offering, and His isolation is the deepest and purest ‘aloneness’. Thus we are made aware of such agony, such depravity, such utter isolation and abandonment.

It might serve us well to follow Him into abandonment this Holy Week. We have been made keenly aware of our depravity this Lent; and our need for new “light” and new “life” is very apparent. Maybe in order to experience these divine gifts, we will need to abandon ourselves to suffer with Christ, to die in a sense, in order to rise with Him. In this way, we can be isolated near Him…we can be abandoned with Him…not utterly alone, sure, but just ourselves with the Master who suffers with us. And a new, deeper, more intimate bond between ourselves and the Lord can then be forged, and ratified, and made more intense and satisfying.

May each of us have a truly holy Holy Week.

Fr. David

04/10/2011

Belief Strains, …yet Faith Can Still Grow

Today’s second reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans reminds us that our life is a tug-of-war between this physical life and the spiritual life sustained by God’s Spirit. And as we’ve traveled through these first five weeks of Lent, we might need to pause for a moment to reflect on how we’ve been moving.

During our first week, we saw the temptations of Jesus and wondered whether or not we would be able to overcome them ourselves. Then, we caught a glimpse of the glory of the Lord as He was transfigured on Mt. Tabor. Surely, that whet our appetite to cling to Him and stay close…hoping that our nearness would bring us to future glory as well. Then, with the woman of Samaria, we came to know Christ as the font of living water, who is able to slake any hunger or thirst or longing we might have. Last week, we saw—with the new sight of the blind man—that Jesus is a prophet, a healer, …He is one in whom we can place our faith. And this week, we witness the drama unfolding on life’s stage: there is illness, and fear; uncertainty, and death; there is then One with power over life and over death. Yes, lots to reflect on during this season of Lent. So, how have we been moving within ourselves during this season?

If you might not want to answer, consider a few other guides that we hear from this weekend: Martha and Thomas. Clearly a very close, intimate friend of Jesus, Martha is able to state, with confidence, that Jesus is the Lord over life…“Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died”. And yet isn’t her confidence more intellectual than it is rooted in authentic belief? Sure, she knows well the prophecy told by Ezekiel from today’s first reading, yet she doesn’t believe it can hold true for her brother Lazarus. Within just a few moments, she’s protesting opening Lazarus’ grave because of the four days lapsed. She’s still clinging to the rabbinic tradition that after three days, death has absolutely won and there is no going back to life. Here the Lord responds with His greatest act and Lazarus is raised from the tomb and set free. Martha knows Jesus’ power, yet her belief strains when confronted with suffering and death in this physical world. She wonders whether the Lord Jesus, is truly “Lord of all”.

Or, what of Thomas? A close disciple of the Lord, Thomas has an inkling that if they go to Bethany—near Jerusalem—surely the struggle with authorities will end terribly and Jesus will suffer. And while Thomas encourages the brothers, “let us also go to die with him”, only a few days later, Thomas is the one who cannot and will not believe that Christ has risen from the dead. Only after being presented with concrete evidence is Thomas able to profess “my Lord and my God!” Even Thomas has much growing to accomplish in order to come to an authentic, living faith.

So, how have you been moving within yourself during this season of repentance, death and new life? Not to worry: just as Martha came to believe; just as Thomas came to doubt no more; we, too, are on a journey of growth in holiness. Let’s be patient with ourselves, yet always keeping our hands to the plow. In these next, and last, weeks of Lent, may our journey be fruitful and our authentic faith be enlivened.

God love you, and those you love.

Fr. David

04/03/2011

Can You See Him for Who He Is?

Last weekend, we went to the well with the Samaritan Woman. And as we conversed with Jesus, we first saw him merely as “a Jew”. But later, as we listened while He spoke, we came to discover more about Him and we perceived Him as “a prophet”. Only after He shared with us the depth and beauty of who we are in His midst did we understand Him to be “the Christ”.

This weekend, we find ourselves again in His midst, but this time we are as the Blind Man who has no sense of this Jesus: blind since birth, we cannot hope to see except by the One who can restore our lost sight. We clearly admit from the outset, “I am he” who is blind. And we are challenged and ridiculed by those around us.

Yet, the more we ponder and share about the One who restores our sight, the more we come to see Him for who He is:

• first, He is “a healer”;
• later, He is “a prophet”;
• still later, the “Son of Man”;
• and finally, “Lord”!

If we share our lives with Christ, He will be able to share greatly His own life with us. If we share our life of faith with others, so much more will that life of faith impact our own…allowing us to grow in comprehension and witness…allowing us to see Him for who He really is, and to proclaim “Christ, the Lord!”

Blessings on your Lenten journey,

Fr. David

03/26/2011

“If you only knew…”

When I was drawing close to ordination as a priest, I remember having a very candid and serious conversation with an older priest. I had known him most of my life and was looking forward to the next few months and following fifty years of ministry! My excitement was wearing him down a little because at a couple points he effortlessly downplayed certain of my enthusiastic hopes with the remark, “if you only knew…”. A few more times he ‘batted at the gnat excitedly buzzing around him’ and I got the hint: I sensed he was tired of the ‘young pup’ and my effusive excitement so I slowly started to retreat with my enthusiasm. I guess he felt bad at having deflated my balloon and, after a few minutes of just sitting and enjoying the growing summer, he said again, “if you only knew”. His tone was different this time. Feeling dismissed, I asked him to go on. The priest began to crack a bit and his expression had changed. He turned to me quite warmly and looked me in the eye. “If only you knew…and you can’t yet, but you will.”

“God is so good”, he continued. “I have been a priest for over 45 years and I am always—always—amazed at how blessed I am to witness such goodness. When I celebrate the sacraments, it’s all God’s doing and it’s never-ending. When I visit the frail, I can actually see God holding them up…even holding them together…and bolstering their failing strength. And when I’m tired and get a little worn out, God blesses me and sends me angels: folks who say ‘hello’ and mean it; people who love the church no matter what…really, no matter what; little dreams as I pray, and I feel God settling in beside me, not so unlike a lad and his puppy after an hour of fetch. Yep, if you only knew, you’d be even more excited!”

Jesus says to the woman of Samaria, “If you only knew the Gift of God that is before you”. As if hoping and inviting and waiting, the gentle Master longs for her to see and to know the gift of God: His peace; His acceptance; His loving mercy; His ache for her to know…really know Him. Thankfully she comes to know, and to experience, all of the blessings that life holds out for her, in Him. Despite her wrestling and doubt and wandering and defense…she is still able to leave her hardness and scars aside and come to know the Gift of God. And what a gift it is; what a gift He is!

For us, as we wander through this Lent, can we picture ourselves hoping and meandering and aching? We don’t have to be as the Samaritan any longer. We can know the Gift of God and receive His life-giving grace.

May our excitement never wane and may our enthusiasm never allow us to stumble or veer off this path that leads to the Gift of God.

Blessings to you always,

Fr. David

03/20/2011

Trust Me

The LORD said to Abram: “Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk and from your father’s house to a land that I will show you.”

I will never forget June 27, 1999. That’s the day I boarded the airplane at Leonardo da Vinci Airport in Rome, Italy and started my final return journey to the United States as a recently-ordained priest. With academic degrees in hand, I was still without a clue as to where I was really going. Sure, I knew my assignment, but the only thing I really possessed was the inner conviction that God wanted me to be a darn good priest, formed to enthusiastically and authentically proclaim the Gospel and His Kingdom. Other than that, I had no idea what lay ahead…and I still don’t, for that matter!

Providentially, the very reading we will hear this Second Sunday of Lent, reminds me of the deep need we all have: we need to trust the Lord’s continual goodness. Abraham had it all: “… very rich in livestock, silver, and gold.” He was quite cozy in the town of Ur and was actually ready for retirement by our standards. Then it got a little foggy for Abe… “Go forth… to a land that I will show you.” Wow, the power of those words. Talk about a Lenten journey! I certainly didn’t have the vaguest idea what lay ahead of me back then. All I knew was that there was an invitation to go, to leap, to trust again completely. I was scared, clueless. But looking back, what a ride! What lessons I learned, and continue to learn as the Father continues to form me.

My spiritual father asked me to listen to my life, to listen for my heart’s deepest desire, to put out into the deep, to trust as Abraham did. I did my best to “be attentive to the voice of Grace.” I struggled much, but through it all God was working His plans out for my heart. As a priest for 13+ years, I have discovered how to walk this road just as Abraham did; in faith and trust and with wild abandon (though still sometimes stumbling!). In the words of Peter Kreeft: “There is one and only one possible road to joy: selfless love.” That road dawns again for us each Lent, and that selfless love is the center line for all of us. By listening to the Love Who resides in our bodies, the Word of God in our hearts and minds, purified and harmonized with His Will, we will find our Promised Land just as Abraham did. A vocation of self-gift, flowing with milk and honey for the world!

God love you, and those you love!

Fr. David

03/13/2011

The ‘Campaign’ of our Lenten Season

[The following personal reflections ‘failed to make-the-cut’ and therefore never evolved into ‘homily’ form this weekend, but I wonder if a few parishioners will still find some benefit from my interior wanderings one afternoon…]

Since Ash Wednesday—passed just a few days ago—I have felt drawn to consider more intensely how the Church views Lent from the eyes and heart of our liturgical life. So, with that goal in mind, I thought it might serve me well to return to the very beginning of Lent and its first liturgy that we just recently experienced here at our parish. This led me to re-examine the opening prayer of the liturgies of Ash Wednesday (certainly, I thought, that will give me a clear sense of the newness of the season, and the goals it has in store for me and for us).

The opening prayer, voiced by those who presided at our liturgies, and offered by each person who gathered together in our rituals, stated: “Father in heaven, the light of your truth bestows sight to the darkness of sinful eyes. May this season of repentance bring us the blessing of your forgiveness and the gift of your light.” I pondered that for several moments and, although I realized some images coming to the forefront of my consciousness, I also felt an unease…or an inner pang of longing…an ache for more; the prayer just wasn’t resonating as much as I was hoping it might. So I waited a bit more.

Then something interesting popped into my little mind’s eye: I could see our community gathering in a different way…something had changed…and I realized that my simple imagination was pointing me toward consideration of the Roman Missal, 3^rd edition that I have been studying intensely over the last several months. “Great idea!” I whispered, as I feebly congratulated myself.

Anyway, I then looked at the opening prayer as it has been crafted for the revised missal which we will use in all future Ash Wednesdays, and I found a very, very different translation from the exact same Latin source as our current prayer. I was startled at the variances between the two and it opened up a deluge of thoughts and images that I had never honestly considered related, intertwined, akin to one another…. I share this new translation of the opening and first prayer of our season of Lent with you (from the newly promulgated 3^rd edition of the Roman Missal in English):

“Grant, O Lord, that we may begin with holy fasting this campaign of Christian service, so that, as we take up battle against spiritual evils, we may be armed with weapons of self-restraint.”

Quite different from our current translation, right? Aside from making any qualitative judgments and arrogantly declaring which might be better or worse, more or less helpful or harmful; with all that aside, I just sat with it, and let the images come…and then the important personal questions—at least for me:

“is there really a battle that I am beginning to engage in?”; “am I really entering into a campaign of service?”; “and what about weapons that I am to take up?”; these were just a few of the questions, but each—I sensed—was going to be important for me to consider and discern, and then to decide how my responses to these questions are then going to impact my Lenten season. Of all of these, I’d like to simply consider one issue here: the issue regarding ‘battle’ or ‘campaign’, especially since I have a whole forty days and forty nights to consider the other issues that swirled around within me!

I had to acknowledge, almost immediately, that I had not considered myself engaged in battle. I am generally happy, content with my life’s little challenges and my personal responses to them; I am very pleased in my parish ministries and the wonderful people with whom I serve in priesthood; I have lots of fun teaching college students as a simple hobby; yes, all things considered, I had to admit I didn’t feel engaged in much of a battle.

And, of course, as I let my guard down, it then hit me like a sack of rotten, slimy tomatoes: “You fool!”

“Sure, maybe you’re not engaged in battle, but you should be!” “Look beyond your own little experience, because there’s lots rattling around you…and it might just surprise and throw you!”

And then a deep breath…the wheels engaged in their whirling and spinning…with lottery-like balls swirling around and popping—one by one—into clearer view: something inside me was witnessing what should have been obvious to me all along and, of course, I’m ashamed to admit it, hadn’t yet caught my narcissistic attention. But I couldn’t look away now…my awareness was peaking: the gravity of our human condition.

• Our youth are preparing and collecting and organizing themselves for a Midnight Run.

• Egypt, Jordan, and now Libya…millions of people beaten-down, are now fighting to stand up.

• Six of our parishioners are in Afghanistan and/or Iraq…I wonder if they sense I’m hoping peace and blessing for them right now.

• Catholics are lobbying the State this week for those who are voiceless around us.

• Our local parishes and we ‘leaders’ have been in a bit of a fiery cauldron these last several weeks because of some foolish, really foolish, thing.

• I bought groceries yesterday and didn’t even notice the final price tag…I’m really, really lucky that I’m not worried right now about the eventual credit card bill.

• Catholic Schools are in crisis: the State isn’t going to respond to various financial and systemic injustices, leaving the heroic families of our students to foot higher and higher bills…all so that they can try their best to do good by their kids…but isn’t that what the state should be trying to do as well?

• I haven’t seen one of my people at Mass in a long while…I wonder if something has happened.

And on and on it went.

Moments later, waking from the rapid-fire slideshow of my imagination, my initial question again came to mind, “am I engaged in a battle of some kind or another”? My answer was, “No, clearly not”. As others go homeless and unfed, I’m comfy in a rectory and quite sated. As people battle injustice…as others compromise and long to resolve differences…as families with young children fear rising costs and even higher unemployment…as some suffer illness and face painful losses…and on and on. As all this and more happens around me, I am here wondering what ‘battle’ might mean and whether or not a campaign exists.

I wondered then what to make of myself. Thankfully, before too long, I returned to the opening prayer that started my mind sprinting, and I am relieved to see that there is a renewed reason for Lent…in and around me.

Recall the opening of that simple yet concise prayer: “Grant, O Lord, that we may begin with holy fasting this campaign of Christian service…” Whew. The Lord—in His goodness, thankfully—is giving us this new season—just begun—so that I can ‘begin’ this campaign, a campaign that has been ongoing, yet was still waiting to be fully joined with my own service, my own authentic engagement and response.

And so: my Lenten Journey begins; my campaign starts.

A blessed ‘renewed beginning to this campaign’ for each of you as well.

Fr. David

03/06/2011

To Listen with the Heart

One of my students at Siena College was surprised this past week by the mid-term exam!

I’m not sure how:

• …I had stated clearly in the syllabus and in the course calendar that the Midterm exam was going to be conducted on Thursday, March 3^rd.
• In fact, on Tuesday, I repeated that information and conducted some simple review with them.

Of course, when she protested on Thursday that she thought it was next Thursday I was tempted to ask her “what part of March 3^rd don’t you understand?”

She knew the rules and she heard my words…just like every other student in the class! But apparently that isn’t enough! How right that statement is!

Our first reading from Deuteronomy echoed this sentiment: It is not enough to merely know God’s commandments. And our Gospel affirms that it is also not merely enough to hear Jesus’ words. The “more” that is needed from each one of us—beyond simply knowing and hearing—is to listen with the heart and respond. We must put the spirit of these commandments, of these words of the Master, into action. For faith demands action…it’s ‘action’ that proves the mettle of faith and stands up to the pressures that face us day in and day out as we move throughout the created world.

Surely, if we are to look at any single day, we’ll be able to see just how hard it is to put our authentic faith into real action. We can easily spot where we take the easy way, or the fastest shortcut or the simplest route to a goal…and if we’re honest, we’ll see that we regularly let faith step aside for convenience, or expedience, or plain old laziness.

This Wednesday, as we begin lent, there are 3 traditional ways that we might use in order to not only know God’s commands, but work to hear his words and keep His law of love.

The three traditional disciplines are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Why these three? …In order to maintain our right and just relationships with God and with the world and one another. First, one’s relationship with God is sustained by prayer. Then, being sure one is available to and ready for the Lord, we fast so that we make room for God in our hearts, so that we hunger for His grace. And finally, once we are restored, we go forth from within ourselves to love others, to care for their needs, to give them a share in our own blessings (almsgiving). These disciplines of Lent are not mere gestures or pithy acts to be performed: no, they are intended—and able—to help each one of us be restored to the likeness of God.

In the coming days, may we recall God’s commandments, hear Christ’s words of encouragement, and put our renewed faith into action…proving anew that “we believe”.

God bless you,

Fr. David

02/27/2011

Sufficient for a day…is its own worries

We have three baptisms today at the 11am Mass…and if I was a gambling man, I’d bet that the 3 moms and 3 dads have each already experienced lots of joys from the little ones. Of course, who wouldn’t crumble at a little baby’s new smile? Or what about when they first start to grab hold of your little finger for dear life? …precious little exchanges! But those moms and dads are probably—at the same time—feeling lots of anxieties and natural worries: will my job be able to support my family? Will the snow let up and winter pass more quickly so that heating bills won’t consume our paychecks? Do we have enough diapers and baby clothes and toys and formula and…all the other stuff to last us next week? What about the next week? …and the next?

Although these worries are quite natural and provisions ought to be planned for, still, they may not be our best focus or our highest driving force in life. If our gospel today wasn’t clear enough, maybe a little fable from Aesop will help: recall the goatherd caught in a snowstorm. Herding his goats toward a cave for shelter, the goatherd found the cave already occupied by a herd of wild goats—lots more than his own. Devious and greedy at increasing his own wealth, the goatherd took great care of his wild find…going so far as to even give them the fodder/food intended for his own goats. Well, in time the storm passed and, alas, the goatherd found he had nothing: his own goats vanished with starvation, the wild goats had all run off to the hills and woods, and he had nothing left. The foolish man had made a foolish gamble and poor choice: neglecting what was securely his own to try and gain what would only be lost anyway.

“Sufficient for a day…is its own evil” says the Good Shepherd in today’s gospel. There will be plenty of anxieties or temptations each and every day that we might choose to worry about or be concerned with. But so many of them are merely that: temptations. They need not be our real concerns. If we do not choose to gamble with them, if we choose to keep our hands to the plow of a good and virtuous life, so many threats and so many worries will fall away and never approach us to do us harm.

• • “Look at the birds of the air.” Our heavenly Father feeds them.
  • “Look how the wild flowers grow.” God clothes them with great splendor.

So, if God cares so much for the birds, the grass and the wildflowers…surely, God also knows our deepest need and cares for us. Let us not worry so much about our immediate needs, being shortsighted and quite impoverished: those immediate needs will always be with us and, in due time, we’ll be able to receive our need.

Rather, let’s keep always before us the great plan of God, His kingdom and His righteousness: for with that priority, our wealth is always assured. From our first reading, we know that the wealth God offers is that He is ever faithful and will never forsake us. May we know of His love—even in our anxiety and worry—and that His greatest and fullest desire for us is to be one with us, now and always. May we seek the real and lasting value of life—the only authentic wealth and prize—the Kingdom of God and His righteousness.

God bless you and all whom you love,

Fr. David