Church of St. Mary at Clinton Heights

By Deacon John Cronin:

Tomorrow is Memorial Day.

The day our nation is called to remember.

We remember the armed forces who died for our freedom.

Who died so we may live.

 

This year, Memorial Day Weekend happens to fall on the Feast of Corpus Christi

The Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ.

We here today, are called to remember the hero of heroes:  Jesus Christ.

He died so that we all may live.

He made the ultimate sacrifice of his body and blood so we can be freed from death itself.

It is good to remember our dead.

But may we especially remember Jesus’ death.

Because his death offers life to us all, including our fallen heroes.

 

Every time we come to Mass, we hear the words of Jesus the night before he died:

“This is my body that is for you.

Do this in remembrance of me.”

As disciples, we receive the true presence of our God in this bread and wine of Holy Communion.

 

As I receive the Eucharist today,

I will ask Jesus to help me remember his perfect love.

His total gift of self so that we may truly live.

So that we like the 5,000 may eat and be truly satisfied.

 

Since the beginning of time, people have gotten into trouble because they forget.

They forget who they really are.

Who really satisfies them.

We are the beloved Children of God.

God gives us all that we truly need and more.

We may want something else entirely.

But God offers us what we truly need.

In my own life, I have found this easy to forget.

The more I chased after shiny apples, the hungrier I became.

We separate ourselves from God, and forget the taste of His love.

But Jesus came to us in our deserted places.

He took on flesh so we may reunite with the God who gave us life and love.

He asks us to remember that we are God’s beloved.

Right here  ——  Right now.

Jesus wants to feed us his Body and Blood.

He wants us to be satisfied with a foretaste of the heavenly banquet here on earth.

Can we let go of our anxieties and remember him?

To remember the love that death itself cannot stop?

 

As young children grow, they suffer what is called separation anxiety.

They grow fearful and insecure when separated from their parents.

As we grow, we form healthy friendships and are able to leave our parents.

We are secure in adulthood only if we remember.

Remember the love of our parents.

 

The Body and Blood of Christ is offered here today to help us remember Jesus’ love.

We only grow anxious when we forget and feel deserted.

The Apostles themselves grew anxious in the deserted place with the 5,000.

Their reaction was to send the hungry away.

But Jesus told his disciples:

“Give them some food yourselves.”

“Give them some food yourselves.”

If we are fed by Jesus’ love in the Eucharist,

Then we can bring that love into the deserted places of our daily lives.

If we remember his love as our anchor in life, we can help feed the hungry ourselves.

If we dare to perform acts of loving kindness, Jesus will supply more than we had ever dreamed of.

We will be truly satisfied.

 

So let us pray for our dead today.

But my prayer for you and for me is that we are truly fed in the Holy Eucharist.

And that we can bring the love of Jesus to those who still hunger for Him.

So, together, we are secure in the one body of Christ.

“Why do you want to be a priest?” 

“It stops me in my tracks.  I immediately think:  I don’t want to be a priest.  I believe God for reasons I may never fully understand has decided that for me.  God is persistent.”

Deacon John Cronin was raised in Watervliet, NY, and is a parishioner of St. Brigid’s Parish, where he was educated by the sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. He attended La Salle Institute High School in Troy, NY and later earned a B.A. in Psychology and Government & Politics from Manhattan College in Riverdale, NY. John also earned a Masters in Educational Psychology & Statistics from SUNY-Albany, and later studied Childhood Education and Literacy. His versatile resume also includes careers in retail management and elementary education

Vocation Story

At Pope St. John XXIII National Seminary, I sometimes get cards from people who ask:  “Why do you want to be a priest?”  It stops me in my tracks.  I immediately think:  I don’t want to be a priest.  I believe God for reasons I may never fully understand has decided that for me.  God is persistent.  He knows me better than I know myself.  And only Jesus can help me to see as he sees and to love as he loves.

At first, I was drawn to priesthood around 5 years of age much like a child who is drawn to the heroics of a policeman or a firefighter.  At St. Brigid’s in Watervliet, New York,  Fr. Joseph Grabys was one of my heroes too.  He was always so joyful with us kids in the schoolyard, and he was sincere and intense in his worship.  By the ripe old age of 10, I was overcome with wonder at the limitless love of God glorified on the Cross.  I had served at the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday, and it left an indelible mark.

But I would drift away from God’s call in fear and recalcitrance until I was in my thirties.  While I enjoyed my pursuits in elementary education, I was left wanting.  I felt like St. Peter, bumbling about and adrift in his fishing boat.  But I finally decided to listen to Jesus and let down my nets in deep waters.  I was truly amazed at the power of Jesus.  But I was also afraid of being unworthy.  The beauty lies in the fact that no one is really worthy.  Jesus only asks that we let him love us, and our lives will be transformed.

I have felt his tender touch and his compelling invitation: “Do not be afraid….”  A life that once seemed mundane has been revived.  Once overlooked, my eyes can no longer be averted from beholding the abundance of grace that has sustained me all these years. What once looked like abandonment by a birth mother has been revealed as the grace of a woman choosing life.  And upon that grace was the love of my Mom and Dad who adopted me.  In holy simplicity and humility, they tenderly bore witness to lives of devotion to each other, to family, to faith, and to friendship.

The seminary is full of men who were given the courage to cast their nets in deep waters.  They are still sinners, but Jesus patiently reminds them they are beloved sons of His Father.   It is a common slip of the tongue to refer to the seminary as the cemetery!  And there is a certain amount of truth in that.  I was told by the dean of men in my first days at the seminary that I had come to the seminary to die. The Holy Spirit has the audacious task of helping us to let go of our selfish and petty desires:  to die to a life for self, and to live as Jesus lives:  completely for others.

The Apostles are a great source of hope that God can make lemonade out of lemons!  Despite their human frailties, they were touched by a loving God.  In their weakness, they could have turned away from God and said, “We’re not ready!”  It is like a husband and wife who may think they’re not ready to raise a child.  They’re may be right. But with God’s grace, they humbly open themselves up to being for another their child.  Anything is possible with God.  What may have been grounds for fear has been transformed into abundant joy, persistent peace, and lasting gratitude.  Please pray that all seminarians will persevere in casting their nets in deep waters, and in loving as God loves.