Category: Deep Church Thoughts

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Called within Community for the World

Hello, Church Fans! This past weekend I was privileged to give the homily at the Memorial and Promotion Mass for the Northwestern Lieutenancy of the Knights and Dames of the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. It is a great organization with its roots going back all the way to the first crusade. The mission is the same – to protect and preserve the Christian presence in the Holy Land. However, the methods have changed. These days our primary “weapon” is prayer. Our second is to support the Latin Patriarchate in the Holy Land with substantial financial assistance.

Please pray for the Christians in the Holy Land. The Israeli government does not distinguish between Christian or Muslim Palestinians. For more information on the work of the Order click here.

Here is homily.

Tomorrow you will likely get  nice homily from the Bishop on what it means to be a Knight or a Dame of the Holy Sepulchre.

           This morning I think we would do well to first look at what it means to be a Christian,

           by meditating on the Blessed Virgin Mary.

           She who is the first disciple. 

First, that she is is rightly seen in the context of the Community of believers who pray – and so too should we.

Second, that within that for that Church, she received a special vocation – and so too do we.

Finally, that such a vocation sent her forth into the world to proclaim the Good News – and so too must we. 

When the council Fathers were drafting the Lumen Gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, the question was debated for no little time as to whether the Blessed Virgin should have her own document or rather, should be included in the document on the Church itself. 

           Wisely they discerned that she be included in any discourse we use to describe the Church.

Much of their reasoning is made plain to us in our first reading today from the Acts of the Apostles where we see

           “…they went to the upper room where they were staying, Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these devoted themselves with one accord to prayer, together with some women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brothers.

We see then, that the first task of the Christian is twofold

To gather

and to pray.

“The whole community devoted themselves to prayer.”

           When I left my last parish of St. Patrick’s at the end of June, the parishioner papered the wall with “Fr. Leo quotes” – very few of which are original to me. One of these stood out. It says:

“If it doesn’t begin with a prayer and end with a prayer, it ain’t got a prayer!”

           Too often I think, especially for us professional Christians. We get so wrapped up in the work of the Lord, that we sometimes forget the Lord of the work.

           We must pause.  We must unplug. We must spend time with Our Lord in prayer.

           I am adamant, that if you cannot find ten minutes a day for private prayer with Our Lord, your life is out of control and you need to make adjustments.

           NO EXCUSES.

I shall say it again:  if you cannot find ten minutes a day for private prayer with Our Lord, your life is out of control and you need to make adjustments.

           NO EXCUSES.

In the wake of events in the Holy these past two years and in our own county in the last two weeks, we have once again entered the realm of “no excuses Catholicism.”

           We can no longer as men and women of the Catholic faith simply try to fit comfortably and anonymously into an increasing secular society which sadly is becoming more and more antagonistic towards the Faith.

The Christian, the Knight or the Dame, cannot charitably engage such a society if we are not first and foremost people of prayer.

In so doing, we must never forget the words of a wise old monk named Aidan Shea, late abbot of St. Anselm’s in DC:

           He said, “I have learned that so much of prayer is simply waiting on God.”

And, he added, “I have learned that if I am willing to wait long enough, insight always comes.” 

           So much of prayer is just waiting on God.

           Time is an ingredient. 

When I was in the seminary, we had a classmate who had been a very high level nuclear engineer. For some unknown reason, we gave him the task of making the birthday cake. He did some calculations and determined that rather than let the cake sit in the oven at 375 degree F for 45 minutes, it would be more efficient to put it in for 23.2 minutes at 578 degrees F. Well, you know what happened. It was black and charred on the outside and gooey and inedible on the inside. What he did not take into account is that time is an ingredient. So too with our prayer.

The early Church seemed to have a sense of this as they gathered in the Upper Room.

           For nine days they prayed and they waited for what the Lord had said to them to be fulfilled. 

           It is the original novena, and the most powerful.

           Time is an ingredient.     

                     Insight comes, and we come to know what God is calling us to do hic et nunc, here and now.

The Blessed Virgin Mary enjoyed a particular, a difficult, and a glorious vocation within and for the Church. 

           In her immaculate conception she received the grace necessary to carry it out.

           In her fiat to the Angel Gabriel, she embraced that vocation.

           In the birth of the her divine Son, in his teaching and miracles, in this passion, death and resurrection, she saw that vocation come to eternal fruition for her and for all the faithful.

So much so that the author of revelation, reflecting on such things could say:

NOW have salvation and power come, the Kingdom and the authority of his anointed. 

           For our purposes today, I would emphasize the word “NOW” in that passage.

           There is a temptation to think of the Kingdom only as something that is way off in some far distant eschatological future. 

           But we must not forget the very words of Our Lord, nor the words of the inspired writer of the Book of Revelation.

                      The Kingdom of God in our midst.

           Now, have salvation and power come. 

As Christians, the people in our neighborhoods, schools, places of work and our communities, the Christian in the Holy Land, cannot afford have us simply bank our charity in hopes of future resolution.

           As Knights and Dames, we are called to act hic et nunc.  Here and now. 

I am reminded of the story of the young boy and the starfish – An oceanside village sat on four miles of sandy beach. One night a terrible storm raged and washed up thousands of starfish far up onto the shore. As an old man was walking down the beach and lamenting the tragedy he say a young boy picking up starfish and throwing them back into the sea before they perished in the sun.

“Young boy,” he said, “What are you doing?”

The young boy replied, “I am throwing these starfish back into the sea before they die,” the boy replied.

The old man shook his head, “Son, this beach of four miles long and there are thousands, if not tens of thousands of starfish washed up here. It is sad, but even by your efforts you can’t hope to make a difference.”

Looking defiantly at the old man, the young boy picked up another starfish and threw it into the sea, and said, “It made a difference to that one.”

It’s a good lesson for us. Think about it, Christian, if your entire life is spent bringing only one other person to the gospel, is it not a life well spent?

We are called to make a difference, and this is what sends us forth.

           In the gospel we see that after she conceived Our Lord in her womb, Mary does not just sit at home, happy that God had shown her such a favor, saying to herself, “I know something you don’t know!”

           No, love by its very nature goes forth from itself

           And when Love Incarnate is within you, how can you not take him to the world, or at least that little part of the world that you know? 

           The Visitation is one of my favorite passages in Sacred Scripture.

The Gospel of Luke is sometimes called the “Gospel of Joy”

           Especially in its early chapters, it reads like a Broadway musical.

           Time and again the action is punctuated as one or more characters just break into song, or dance as we see in the case of little John the Baptist. 

           how fitting, then, that the late Pope Francis entitled his encyclical, “The Joy of the Gospel.”

           Our call as Christians is to take the joy of the Gospel in the world

And if not the whole world, then at least that part of the world with which we will come into contact.

To stand in the truth in love.

           Knowing the whole while that if even we but try;

           Knowing that even if do it poorly

If we stand in the truth in love, with joy,

           There will be those who will find it very irritating.

           We may be maligned, we may be slandered.

           And God forbid, we may even be excluded…            

           Or like today’s saint, Andrew Kim,

or closer to home, dare I say Charlie Kirk whose memorial is tomorrow, even worse.

SO WHAT?!

The Christian who stands in the truth in love has no FOMO.   (Fear of missing out.)

The Kingdom of God is in our midst.

           In union with the Church, rooted in prayer, called to proclaim the Good News here and now,

           Let us stand in the truth in love.

           Let us proclaim the Good News with hope and joy.         

           Let us be faithful and true Chritians, Knights and Dames of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, here and now.

           That the words of our lips, and the deeds of our hands may play their part in the unfolding of the Kingdom today and unto eternity.

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Being Prudent. Being Loving. Being Catholic.

     I don’t watch TV anymore. Quite simply, I don’t have the time. I get my news from a variety of online sources to keep up. I check the box scores when I can.

     Two recent incidents in the news have caused me great sorrow and concern. The first is the wanton act of violence against the students, faculty and parishioners at Annunciation Catholic Church in Minneapolis. The second is the assassination of conservative commentator Charlie Kirk on a university campus in Utah. What are we Catholics in America to make of such tragic events? 

     From what I’ve been able to discern, the perpetrator the Annunciation shooting was a terribly disturbed individual. The choice of target appears to have been made more on his past association with the parish and school than on any overtly anti-Catholic bias, although his suicide note apparently rants against all religion, including the Catholic Church. I don’t have to the expertise in mental health to figure out the mind of the perpetrator. It was an act of evil, pure and simple. We must pray for the healing of all survivors.

     Closer to home, prudence dictates that we assess our own facilities and practices to ensure that our children and parishioners are safe. While we already have good practices in place, the parish has engaged a local security firm to do a security audit of our facilities and procedures and to make recommendations on how we can make improvements. Once this is complete, we you will likely see certain subtle, but definite changes.  It is a delicate task. How do we maintain the warm hospitality for which we are known, while also ensuring the safety of those on the campus? Prudence, not fear, should guide our actions.

     I did not follow Charlie Kirk. Most of what I know about him has been gleaned from the reports in the wake of his assassination. What disturbs me most is that, as Bishop Robert Barron has pointed out, he died with a microphone in his hand, not a weapon. By all accounts Mr. Kirk engaged his interlocutors with courtesy and forthrightness. He did not back down from what he believed to be true, but neither did he denigrate the character of those with whom he disagreed.  He simply pointed out where he believed their arguments were flawed. 

     As so many others have said, the strength of our republic is not that we all agree, but that we have learned how to disagree while maintaining the dignity of the other. Evelyn B. Hall, describing the thought of Voltaire once said, “I “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”

      Though at times provocative, Mr. Kirk embodied such a notion. As Catholics, we have always upheld the inherent dignity of every human person. We have always distinguished between person and idea; between identity and behavior. Let us continue to stand in the truth in love, prudent in our practice, charitable in our deeds.

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Philemon’s Dilemma

Homily – 23SundayC, Philemon’s Dilemma

   Whatever your musical tastes, country music has a lot of practical wisdom. Brad Paisley described it as “Four chords and the truth!”  For your edification, here is short list of real titles of real country music songs.

Real Country Music Titles:

  • Drop Kick Me, Jesus, Through The Goalposts Of Life
  • My John Deere Was Breaking Your Field, While Your Dear John Was Breaking My Heart
  • I Changed Her Oil, She Changed My Life
  • How Can I Miss you if you won’t go away?
  • I’m So Miserable Without You It’s Like Having You Here
  • The Last Word in Lonesome is “me”
  • The Worst You Ever Gave Me Was the Best I Ever Had
  • If the Phone Doesn’t Ring, It’s Me.
  • I Been Roped and Thrown By Jesus In The Holy Ghost Corral

   The late, great Toby Keith wrote one entitled, “Wish I Didn’t Know Now (What I didn’t Know Then.)”

   I imagine that is what Philemon was thinking when he opened that letter from St. Paul, probably carried to him the same Onesimus mentioned therein. So, what is Philemon’s problem?

   Well, it’s a doozy. Philemon is a wealthy Greek, probably from the Church in Collosae, who came to the Catholic Faith and was baptized by Paul. Onesimus was his slave…his runaway slave who found his way to Paul and spent a fair amount of time helping him during his imprisonment. Now Paul is sending him back to Philemon asking that he not be received as a runaway slave, but as a brother in Christ. Philemon has a dilemma.  Does he do as Paul asks?  If he does, then does that mean he will have free all his other slaves who have been baptized?  What about the ones who have not yet been baptized. If they come to faith does that mean an automatic ticket to freedom?  If they ask for baptism can he refuse them?  What are the implications if he does not do as Paul asks and puts the slave’s collar back on Onesimus?  Who knew that being a Christian would be so hard? How difficult it is to be an intentional disciple of Jesus! 

   It’s not like he didn’t have fair warning. Jesus said as much in our gospel passage this week from Luke. He does not sugar coat it. Being a disciple of Jesus demands a complete change of mind and heart.

   It’s a good lesson for us. Being a disciple of Jesus has never been about fitting comfortably and anonymously into an increasing secular society. It is about standing in the truth in love.  This may manifest itself at work, at school, on the community council, in the doctor’s office, in the ballot box, and any other number of places. 

   Scripture does not say what Philemon did after he received the letter. Perhaps he did as Paul asked.  Perhaps he did not. Regardless, the early Church has passed this letter on to us to help us in our discernment in our own journey of faith. May we have the grace to respond as Christ would have us do.  It has never been easy, but it is always worth it. 

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What Matters to God

   For a number of years, our family had a dairy farm in western Washington about100 miles south of Seattle. As a “gentleman farmer” my dad used to have a T-shirt that said, “A big barn and a plump wife never did any man harm.”  

   Big barns are pretty cool.  It’s amazing how some of them were built in the early 20th century. Not only are they incredibly functional, they are truly works of art. And by and large a big barn never did a man harm.

   So what’s the deal then with the parable of the man who had the bountiful harvest and built himself some big barns to put it in. Why is he called a fool?

   It’s pretty simple really. There is nothing wrong with a bountiful harvest or a big barn to put it in. Where gentleman farmer in the parable went wrong is that he saw his wealth as an end unto itself. He put his trust in the things of this world and forgot that our true destiny of communion with God transcends anything this world has to offer.

   Wealth in and of itself is neither good nor bad. It simply gives you more options. But as our misguided farmer found out, at the end of the day we really don’t own anything. It is all a gift given to us to use for the time that we are on this earth. We are stewards, not owners.

   They say you spend the first third of your life wanting stuff, the second third accumulating stuff and the last third trying to get rid of stuff. Having just turned 60, I’m finding that there is a lot of truth to this. The goal at this stage is to shed as much stuff as practical and to grow rich in what matters to God.

   So what matters to God? 

   Well, if we pay attention to Our Lord in the today’s gospel, its not the stuff we’ll leave behind, but the relationships with God and others that really matter. We don’t take any of the stuff with us, but we do take our relationships. For us Catholics that relationship is characterized by full communion with Christ and his Church – union at the very level of being.  Who I am, united with who God is and who you are. It is these relationships that we call full communion that we carry with us into eternity.

That is what matters to God.

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Persistence in Prayer

One of the most maligned folks in American history is Calvin Coolidge, the nation’s 30th president who served the White House from 1923 to 1929.  He had the unfortunate distinction of being in office at the outset of the Great Depression. He was a quiet man. His nicknames were: Cautious Cal, Cool Cal, Silent Cal, and the Sphinx of the Potomac.

Not many know much about President Coolidge today. But if you Google him, the first 49,000 citations will mention this one quotation he gave in a speech in 1929. He said: “Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan Press On! has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.”

     Mr. Coolidge was right. Why does Jesus ask us to be so persistent in prayer? Our prayer certainly does not change God’s mind.  God already knows what we need long before we ask. Parents are the best examples of this and can give us some insight. Mom or Dad could easily give us what we need without our asking, but would we really appreciate it? Probably not. How delightful it is to a parent when a child comes to their own realization of what is best and then asks the favor.

    Three and a half millennia of human experience have shown that persistence in prayer has profound effects upon the one doing the praying. God does not change as a result of prayer. We do. Persistence in prayer allows us to discern God’s ultimate desire for us and to make that desire our own.

 Time is an ingredient. A monk much wiser than me once said,

“I have found that so much of prayer is simply waiting on God; and I have learned that if I am willing to wait long enough, insight always comes.”

Timing is everything, and God’s timing always so much better than our own. Persistence in prayer allows us to move from praying, “MY will be done.” to “THY will be done.” 

As we spend more time in prayer we begin to realize that God has three ways of answering prayer. 1) “Yes.” 2) “Not yet.” and 3) “I have something better in mind for you.” 

       Okay great.  How?

It’s not that hard.  You need to find a time and a place.  Take some time each day to unplug from the distractions of this world. Find a quiet place and spend some time with the Lord. Decide on a time each day that will work for you. You may have to tweak this a bit. And this may change depending on your situation.

At one parish my prayer time happened at 9:00 at night. Here at St. Elizabeth’s, it works out best at 7:00 in the morning.

You may need to adjust this time, you may need to fight for this time, but you need to make time.  I’ll say it again, if you cannot find at least ten minutes a day for private prayer with Our Lord, your life is out of control and you need to make adjustments.  No excuses.

Second, find a place.

       Create a space in the home.

       Or change your routine to bring you to a holy place.  

       I love this one quotation that is popping up on the door in many churches in France.  In four short sentences it says: 

       It is possible that on entering this church, you may hear the Call of God.    

       On the other hand, it is not likely that he will contact you by phone. Thank you for turning it off.   

       If you would like to talk to God, come in, choose a quiet place, and talk to him.  

       If you would like to see him, send him a text while driving.

Get creative. I love to tell the story of the fellow at St. Benedict’s who had two issues. First, because of his weird work schedule, he couldn’t find his ten minutes and he kept bringing the stress of his work home with him.

       As we chatted, the Holy Spirit kicked in and I asked him, “You live right down the street from the parish, right?

Why don’t you just pull your truck in and park in front of that big crucifix in front of the church on your way home?”

       You know, he did.

       About a month later he was in my office again and said, “You know, Father, that ten minutes has made all the difference.  I don’t even get out of my truck. I just do my Magnificat right there.  And I’ve also found that I can just leave all of the stresses and burdens of the day right there at the foot of the Cross. I suppose I could pick them back up again, but I’ve never seen the need.”

Make time. Create or find a place. Be persistent.  It may not change God, but it will certainly have a profound effect on you.

Let me end by paraphrasing Mr. Coolidge.  

“Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence in prayer. Vocation will not; nothing is more common than unfulfilled vocations. Cleverness will not; you cannot outmaneuver God. Erudition will not; the world is full of theological derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan Pray On! has opened and always will open the door of grace in the human heart.”

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Ask Fr. Leo – Why does the priest wash his hands at the Offertory?

Hey, Church fans! No time to post the homily this week. You can get the gist in the bulletin at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton’s website by clicking here: https://www.akseas.net. This week you get my latest column in the North Star Catholic. Enjoy.

Dear Fr. Leo:

     Why does the priest wash his hands during the offertory of the Mass?  Is it a remembrance of Pontius Pilate washing his hands in front of the crowd?  – M

Dear M,

     At first glance it would look like it, but it really doesn’t have anything to do with Pontius Pilate at all. It does have a lot to do with the early liturgies of Church. The offertory is a very important part of the Mass. Let’s put it into the larger context so you can see where washing of the celebrant’s hands comes in. 

     Holy Mass is both a true sacrifice and a shared, ritual meal. In the Old Testament, if you were going to offer sacrifice, you need four things: An altar, a priest, an offering or victim, and a reason.

     The ritual varied a little based on the reason for sacrifice, but typically it began when you brought your offering before the priest, i.e., the first fruits of your harvest or of your flock. It had to be unblemished because you always offered God your first and your best. You couldn’t just offer the heifer with the broken leg because you were going to get rid of it anyway. Once the priest laid hands on the victim, it was dedicated to God and could not be used for any other reason.  The animal was then slaughtered and its blood was poured out or sprinkled on the altar in the proscribed manner. The front left quarter was given to the priest for his payment. Certain other parts were placed upon the live coals on the altar to be burnt as an offering pleasing to God. Then you took the rest home and held a big party or sacrificial banquet. Thus, sacrifice and sacred eating are inseparable.  You never have the sacrifice without the meal and you never have the meal without the sacrifice. 

     There were four main reasons for offering a sacrifice.  There were sacrifices to give thanks, sacrifices to established covenants, sacrifices to forgive sins, and sacrifices to remember. The Church has always held that all previous sacrifices of all types were completed and perfected in the one, perfect sacrifice of Christ on the Cross. The Mass is our real participation in that one, perfect sacrifice. This is reflected in the words of institution, especially over the cup where we hear the priest say,

     “At the end of the meal, he took the cup, and once more giving you thanks, he gave it to his disciples, saying,

     ‘Take this all of you and drink from it.

This is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and eternal covenant.

It will be shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.

Do this in memory of me.”

     Four gifts are offered at the Mass in the Offertory.  The bread, the wine, our gifts of treasure, and ourselves. That’s why they are brought up by members of the congregation and presented to the celebrant.  Just like in sacrifices of old, whatever is offered is immolated and changed. But now instead of being burned and sent up as smoke, the bread and wine become the body, blood, soul and divinity of Christ, the gifts of treasure become heat, light, salaries for parish staff and all the things that go into the life of the parish, and finally we offer ourselves that we might be transformed by the grace that we receive at the Altar and in the midst of the Sacred Assembly.

     These days, the collection is a pretty sanitary process. Depending on the parish you are at, you either plop your envelope or online giving chit in the basket at the foot of the altar or in the collection basket as it comes by. Not so in the days of yore. People would bring what they had, vegetables, grains, chickens, even lambs. After receiving the gifts of the people, the celebrant’s hands were pretty grimy. So, before handling the sacred vessels, he would clean himself up. 

     As time went on, society moved from an agrarian, barter system to a monetary system.  Eventually, the washing of the celebrant’s became part of the private spiritual purification rite of the celebrant before the Liturgy of the Eucharist.  It is accompanied by beautiful little prayers.  First, he prays on behalf of the people, “Lord, we ask you to receive us, be pleased with the sacrifice we offer you with humble and contrite hearts.”  Then, while his hands are washed he says, “Wash me, O Lord, from my iniquities and cleanse me of my sins.” 

     Grace builds on nature. Like many things in the sacred liturgy, the washing of the celebrant’s hands, or the “Lavabo” as it is known, has a very practical origin that has taken on a very spiritual meaning. Hopefully, our own lives can be a reflection of the same. 

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Good Neighbors

The world is a bit less friendly than it used to be. I remember years past when it was no big deal to pick up a hitchhiker on the Kenai Peninsula or on the Alcan Highway. Even around town it was no big deal to give a couple of ski bums a ride to Girdwood on a Saturday morning. And you always stopped to help someone broke down on the side of the road. It was just something we did without thinking. Times have changed, I guess. People are much more cautious these days.  

It doesn’t appear that things have changed all that much in 2000 years. I like the story of the Good Samaritan we hear in Luke’s gospel this week, but I always sort of wince when I read about the priest and the Levite passing on the other side of the street. What’s up with that?  It grates against our wholesome Alaskan ethos.

Biblical scholars help us understand a little bit about what was going on when they explain that both were probably on pilgrimage and on their way up to Jerusalem to worship in the Temple. Apparently, if they had stopped to help the man and (God forbid) actually touch him, they would have incurred a ritual impurity and thus been unable to enter the Temple area.

Okay.  Fine.  So what?

That is exactly Jesus’s point. It doesn’t matter if they were on their way to worship. There was a brother Jew in need, bleeding on the side of the road. The obligation of charity trumps the obligation of the law every time. 

There are several different kinds of law that we need to keep in mind. In order of priority, they are: 1) Divine Law, 2) Natural Law, 3) Human Positive Law, and 4) Custom. 

These are at play even in the life of the Church, but there is a priority even within each category. Keeping holy the sabbath is indeed Divine Law, given to us in the Second Commandment and should not be taken lightly. Nevertheless, if the parable of the Good Samaritan teaches us anything, it is that love of God and love of neighbor are inseparable. One cannot render authentic worship to God after having passed by a person in need. The scholar of the Law, gained this insight at the feet of Christ. We hear it again in our sacred assembly. 

May we have the grace to go and do likewise.

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Credible Witnesses

Hello, Church fans! As many of you know, I am now at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Parish on Huffman Road on the hillside here in Anchorage. So far, so good. Here is the gist of the homily this weekend.

Transition can be a crazy time and always involves a lot of mixed emotions. The last thing this parish needs is any kind of change.  So, we are going to take things easy for a while, get our emotional and spiritual feet underneath us, and maybe have a little fun in the process. Cause if you think about it, when it comes to church, if you are not having fun, you are doing it wrong.

Take moving for example, right now, I am in the midst of unpacking all my stuff in the parish house. The garage is full of hunting gear, pilot gear, an antique bedroom set, some exercise equipment, and a couple of freezers full of moose and deer and fish and whatnot.  And then there are the boxes…so many boxes…

       But let me share you a moving hack that I learned about three parishes ago. As you look at that big pile of half-labeled boxes of all your belongings. Get yourself a little Christmas tree and put it in the middle. Then start playing Christmas music.  As you open each box, exclaim with delight, “Oh look!  Towels and washcloths!  How thoughtful!  These will be perfect for the bathroom!” Or, “what a lovely lamp! This will go perfect in the living room!”  It’s a nice way of reminding ourselves that we really don’t own anything.  Everything is a gift. You’re gonna leave I tal behind anyway.  Think about it.  You never see a hearse with a U-Haul behind it.

   Many of you may remember Fr. Justin Dzickowicz, OSB, the mad monk from New Jersey who served here briefly at St. Elizabeth’s in the early 2000’s. While he was in Alaska, he and I formed a deep friendship that lasts to this day. While I was pastor of St. Andrew’s he would come and visit for several weeks at a time, usually during the summer.  When he wasn’t doing that, he was serving as a missionary chaplain to a convent of Benedictine sisters in Namibia. One day, he was getting ready to head directly from Alaska to Namibia. Preparing for such a trip was a significant effort and soon the living room floor was covered with boxes of supplies and baggage. As he packed yet another box, muttering all the while to himself, he looked up and noticed me observing him quietly. “What?!” he said in exasperation.  I simply replied with Our Lord’s words from today’s gospel reading:

Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals;

and greet no one along the way…

“Oh, shut up!” he roared as I fled from the room. 

   But really, why did Jesus send the 72 out in such a way?  It helps to remember that in those days, much like the televangelists today, there were rabbis who were making a pretty good living by developing a following and building a little empire. By sending his disciples out thus, Jesus is making a very clear point that the Kingdom he proclaims transcends this material world. He sends his disciples as mendicants, dependent totally on the providence of God and the charity of those who will hear His message of salvation. In doing so, he ensures that they will be credible witnesses of the Good News.

   It’s a good reminder to us. A good reflection in our daily examen at the end of the day (you ARE doing a daily examen, yes?) is to ask, “As an intentional disciple of Jesus, like the 72, have I been a credible witness of the Gospel today?  Have I proclaimed the Kingdom in simple or even profound ways? Or, have I let the “stuff” of this world get in the way and dictate how I treat others? If so, what do I need to cast off so that I am a credible witness and a herald of Christ to the people and places that God sends me each day?

   It’s important that we make the most of every opportunity. Like the 72, Christ has sent you to this part of the world to herald his coming. And always remember, this coming week, you may be the only Gospel another person will ever hear. 

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Transformed by Grace

 Howdy, Church fans! This is my last post from St. Patrick’s. Next week I will be at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Parish in south Anchorage. There was a lot more to the homily this week, but here is the kernel on the Scriptures for the Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul.

    Many, many years ago, I was trying to figure out what my confirmation name would be. I tell our confirmation students every year, you don’t so much pick your patron as your patron picks you. This was true for me as well. I was leaning towards St. Paul because I admired his missionary zeal. However, soon before we were to turn in our names, I watched a mini-series called “Peter and Paul.”  It featured Anthony Hopkins as St. Paul and Robert Foxworth as St. Peter. By the time it was over, I found I resonated much more with St. Peter. So that’s the name with which I was confirmed.

       It’s not often the Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul falls on a Sunday. Commemorating these two great princes of the Church, one it’s great shepherd and Bishop of Rome, and the other its great missionary, is particularly providential this weekend.

       St. Peter is a particularly compelling figure. I am struck by the difference between pre-Pentecost Peter and post-Pentecost Peter. Pre-Pentecost, he is sort of a holy goofball. He doesn’t get the whole picture, but he gets the one central thing right. He knows who Jesus is. As we hear today in the gospel (Mt. 16): “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” That is enough for him. The rest is just detail. Jesus knows this too and it’s enough for him. That’s why he said that the gates of hell would not prevail against the Church built on a faith such as Peter’s. (He didn’t say they wouldn’t try really hard, but we have seen over 20 centuries that they will not prevail.” 

       Post-Pentecost Peter is a changed man. With the gifts of the Holy Spirit, all the tumblers have now fallen into place. With the authority given to him by Christ, he leads the Church and preaches the gospel with bold eloquence. His kerygmatic discourses in Acts and his letters form a firm foundation for articulating the faith in any age. 

       St. Paul also goes through a similar transformation. He is zealously upholding the truth. But when he meets the Truth itself in the Resurrected Christ on the road to Damascus, his humility is what is truly striking. He too comes to know who Christ is, and that is enough for him. And it is enough for Jesus.

       It makes me wonder, is not a similar transformation not only possible, but intended by Christ for each one of us? Are we willing to let ourselves be transformed by the love of Christ into what God has created us to be? Given these two great princes of the Church, I believe that it is not only possible, but inevitable. 

       Like St. Paul, it is time for me to move on to the next place Christ wants me to be. As I go, my prayer is that every person in 99504 who encounters Christ as he is manifested here in the Parish family of St. Patrick’s will be transformed by the love of Christ, like St. Peter and St. Paul. All it takes is a little faith, a little humility, and a whole lot of Jesus. 

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Really Jesus

     It’s disheartening how many Catholics are confused about the true and substantial presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, in the last 50 years. Blame it on poor catechesis, a lack of good preaching, or whatever. Turns out things were not all that different in the middle of the 13th century. It took the vision of St Juliana of Cornillon and the Eucharistic miracle at Bolsena, Italy, in 1263 where the precious blood spilled out of the consecrated host and onto the corporal and altar cloth, to get folks’ attention. Pope Urban IV was so moved by the miracle, that he had the bloodied corporal moved to the cathedral in Orvieto where it resides today. (I’ve actually seen it. It’s pretty cool.) The following year Pope Urban  proclaimed the universal celebration of the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Our Lord, commonly known by its Latin name of Corpus Christi. 

Throughout the years, the Church has come up with various ways to try to describe this great mystery of our faith in the true presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Eventually, the best we could come up with was to use Greek philosophical categories to at least attempt to describe a little of what was going on. Briefly put, all things are made up of their substance and their attributes. The substance of a person or thing is its essence, its identity—what or who it is in and of itself. The attributes are what it looks like. Take yourself for example. You have always been you. Your identity has not changed. But your attributes have. As you aged, you got  taller, more trim and better looking! Your substance is the same, but your attributes have changed.

In the Eucharist, the process is the opposite. The attributes remain the same. It still looks and tastes like bread and wine.  However, the substance, the essence, the identity of the bread and wine is changed into the body, blood, soul and divinity of Christ.

Why? Well, quite frankly, because Jesus said so. Like the resurrection, the mechanics of this mystery escape us. Furthermore, we have to be careful not to get too bogged down in the details of sacramental analysis.  We can try to understand certain aspects, and use, quite rightly, the term “trans-substantiation,” but even as we do so, we realize that we are only talking about one tiny aspect of the immensity of the reality that is the Eucharist. When we understand that all that Christ is, is truly present to all that we are; that there is nothing that separates us from the love of God in a holy communion at the very essence of who we are, it is truly astounding.