Catholic Bishops, Where Are You?

One senses that our bishops aren’t really too concerned about what’s happening in our nation or, more dangerously, in Washington, D.C., our own version of the ancient Sodom. Oh, they occasionally make a comment or send a “Tsk-tsk” note to our political elites, but all with little effect. So little that President Biden seems to enjoy telling our bishops how wrong they are about the full range of moral issues. For the president, Church teaching is optional, something that must change with the times. 

Of all the issues facing the country today, the most divisive and evident, of course, is abortion. For example, a few weeks ago, at a gathering of Florida Democrats, the president, who proudly claims to be a “practicing” and “devout” Catholic, made the Sign of the Cross during the pro-abortion speech of a fellow Democrat. (Read the article here.) Believe me, he supported everything his colleague said. Several Catholic organizations vehemently objected to this sacrilegious act, but to my knowledge I’ve heard no public comment from our bishops. If any said anything, they certainly didn’t say it very loudly. Often enough, bishops post their comments on diocesan websites, which, sadly, very few Catholics ever view. Why not call a press conference, or issue a statement to the local press, telling one and all what the Church teaches on abortion and other moral issues? Or send a teaching letter to pastors, instructing them to have it read at every Mass? Politicians provide excellent opportunities for teaching moments by our bishops, priests, and deacons. 

Even more despicable, though, the president has made abortion the key issue of his presidential campaign. For him, what it means to be a practicing and devout Catholic seems to have nothing to do with either faith or obedience:

“Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” [Mt 7,21].

Let’s face it, abortion is the moral issue of our time. Throughout the world several hundred million children are dead because of abortion. Each was slaughtered, and often painfully, as they were cut into pieces by those supposedly dedicated to healing. I can conceive of no modern crime more evil than abortion, the always willful destruction of the most innocent of human lives. The fact that so many people just accept it, as they would accept an appendectomy, tells us a lot about the moral degradation of our so-called civilized world. 

And yet we hear very little from our shepherds. What are the bishops afraid of? Is it a revenue issue? Can’t tick off the pro-abortion “Catholics” who would likely close their wallets and checkbooks. Or do they fear losing their tax-exempt status by wading into what the IRS considers political waters? But the IRS is wrong, deadly wrong. Abortion isn’t political; it’s moral and religious, two areas about which the Church must speak its mind. And thanks to the Holy Spirit, that mind, at least magisterially, always reflects the mind of God. 

Given the Church’s magisterial rejection of abortion, one would think the bishops might issue a public condemnation or two. Perhaps they believe that going public about the slaughter of millions of unborn children will jeopardize our moving forward on what some wrongfully consider more important issues, like climate change and immigration. After all, just this week Pope Francis warned that climate change has become a “planetary crisis,” and that billions of us earthlings face “an extremely high risk of climate-related devastation.” It would seem, then, based on the time the pope has expended writing and talking about climate change, it’s far more important to him than any other issue, including abortion.

Interestingly, when I read this, I emailed several old friends, all PhD meteorologists or climatologists, and asked them to confirm what they had told me earlier. All three again stated that the evidence for human-induced climate change is so minimal it can be ignored. One suggested that Pope Francis, who likely knows very little about climate change, is listening to advisors and “experts” who are reaping the financial benefits of choosing the politically correct side of the issue. “Follow the money,” he added, “and you can predict what the ‘experts’ will say.”

Sadly, too, the Biden administration has been active prosecuting (and persecuting) pro-life activists. Biden’s justice department brought conspiracy charges against a group of pro-life activists for a 2020 protest at a Washington, D.C. abortion clinic that specializes in late-term abortions. This Tuesday and Wednesday seven of these activists were sentenced to two years or more in federal prison. Just read about these “horrible criminals” that our devout Catholic president wants imprisoned. Here are some relevant links:

Imprisoned Pro-Life Activists Speak Out

Pro-Life Activists Sentenced -- combat veteran, 70-year-olds, and icon Joan Andrews, others

Diane and I were fortunate to meet Joan Andrews-Bell years ago when I chaired our Cape Cod parish's pro-life ministry. She has devoted her life to the cause and spent over 6 years imprisoned for acts of love. Now she will serve more time. Pray for all these courageous people. Joan considers her prison sentence as “a time of prayer and reparation” for the “sin of abortion in America.”

I've always believed that political approaches to life take us in the wrong direction. We must, instead, change hearts and minds, always speaking the truth and doing what is needed to instill once again in the people of this country a fervent love for God and His gift of life. It must always begin with prayer and will conclude when God acts to teach us His will.

Perhaps the bishops should also take a faithful and theological, rather than a political, approach and turn to the Nicene Creed in which the Holy Spirit is described as “Lord and Giver of Life.” If we support abortion, are we not then taking to ourselves the powers of the Holy Spirit, and assuming God-like authority over life and death? To usurp God’s power and authority is intrinsically evil, a form of pride almost beyond belief. Wouldn’t it set a wonderful example for the faithful if our bishops, as we approach the solemnity of Pentecost, turned publicly to the Holy Spirit in prayer? What a perfect time to ask His forgiveness for all those who have destroyed the many innocent lives He has given the world.

Prophecies

I’ve listed below just a few prophetic words from people I hold in high esteem. Each of these brief comments seems, at least to me, applicable to our current situation. That situation is a movable feast of sorts, but an indigestible feast rushing quickly to something truly demonic. We will soon reach a point where human actions will be unable to save us from a worldly future driven by those captivated by evil. That’s when God will step in as he has again and again. What He will do, how He will rescue us…well, that’s likely to be quite a surprise. But like the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, God calls on us to plead the case of the faithful ones [See Gn 18]. 

In the meantime, we must do our part and never fear speaking the truth, not only among family and friends, but also openly in the public square. But first we must come together prayerfully as the people of God filled with hope. And remember, hope isn’t just wishin’ and dreamin’ — not at all. Hope, as a theological virtue, is our firm confidence that God will answer our prayer and fulfill His promise to care for us and pour out His peace on us, all over us, and into our confused and troubled hearts. "Peace be with you" Jesus says to the confused and doubting.

Keep in mind that prophecy involves the proclamation of God’s Word and only occasionally addresses future events. Prophecy, then, is simply the revelation of God’s will for us. That said, read these comments and consider their truths:

“For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own likings, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander into myths.” ~ St. Paul [2 Tim 4:3-4] 

“We are moving toward a dictatorship of relativism which does not recognize anything as for certain and which has as its highest goal one's own ego and one's own desires.” ~ Pope Benedict XVI, 2005

“The hero can never be a relativist.“~ Richard M. Weaver, 1948, Ideas Have Consequences

"I don't need a church to tell me I'm wrong where I already know I'm wrong; I need a Church to tell me I'm wrong where I think I'm right" ~ Gilbert K. Chesterton

“For the first time in human history, most people are doing things that could never interest a child enough to want to tag along. That says less about the child than about us.” ~ Anthony Esolen

“Schooling deprived of religious insights is wretched education.” ~ Russell Kirk, (1986). “The Assault on religion: commentaries on the decline of religious liberty”

“The modern state does not comprehend how anyone can be guided by something other than itself. In its eyes pluralism is treason.” ~ Richard M. Weaver

"We do not need a censorship of the press. We have a censorship by the press... It is not we who silence the press. It is the press who silences us." ~ Gilbert K. Chesterton

“When one remembers how the Catholic Church has been governed, and by whom, one realizes that it must have been divinely inspired to have survived at all.” ~ Hilaire Belloc

“It may be a movement towards becoming like little children to admit that we are generally nothing else.” ~ Charles Williams, Descent into Hell

“When the whole world is running headlong towards the precipice, one who walks in the opposite direction is looked at as being crazy.” ~ T. S. Eliot

“We’re surrounded by a lot of noise. The world tries to drown out God’s voice. How many never take the time to listen for God’s call, or even believe He’s calling them?” ~ Me (2022)

"Rather than shivering in the cold, modern man has preferred to set the house on fire, and dance for a moment in the final conflagration" ~ Roger Scruton

Kristi Noem and Her Dog

5/10/24 — A postscript to the below post. RFK Jr., the “other” candidate for the presidency, recently announced his support for the abortion of full-term infants. Yep, it’s OK to slaughter the little human beings whom God created in His image and likeness. And yet we hear almost nothing about this from the mainstream media or the nattering social media crowd. These and too many others are more upset about Governor Noem’s shooting a dog 20 years ago. What are the moral priorities of a nation in which so many are far more concerned about the death of a dog than the premeditated murder of a child?

____________________

I expect that much of what I write in this post will make many folks here in The Villages all aflutter. In truth, though, I don’t care…so here goes, 

Let me begin by saying I’m a dog person and have lived with dogs most of my life, dogs that represented a variety of breeds: Boston Bulldog: German Shepherd; three Weimaraners; Samoyed; Shetland Sheepdog; and Bichon Frise. Let me also assert that, despite what the so-called experts say, not every dog is trainable. As one vet told me, “Some dogs just have a few mental wrinkles that can’t be ironed out. You can ease the problems with good training, but you never know if they’ll arise under certain conditions.”

A lot of people seem very upset because twenty years ago S. Dakota Governor Noem shot a dog that was not only untrainable but had also proven to a danger to man and beast alike. Most of those who fret and wring their hands over the governor’s act have never set foot on a farm or ranch and don’t understand that for many country folk dogs are often working animals. If a dog makes a habit of killing livestock and other farm critters, if it attacks people, and if it cannot be trained to do otherwise, it simply has to go. 

A few years ago I met a man in West Texas who had a huge dog in the back of his pickup. He thought it was part German Shepherd and part Bull Mastiff — as I said, a very big dog. In his words, “He seems to have a bit of blood-lust. At night he roams pretty freely on our ranch, and I have to keep him away from the calves. But if a deer enters our property — it’s  a few hundred acres — that dog knows it and that deer is dead. He’s the only dog I’ve ever seen that can pull down a fullgrown deer and kill it. He’s okay with the family, because I guess we’re his pack, but when guests visit I have to put him in his shed. If he ever hurt a person I’d have to shoot him.” 

Right after we were married, well over 50 years ago, Diane and I ended up with a large, male Weimaraner. How we got this dog is another story. Anyway, thanks to the Navy we found ourselves in San Diego, and for the next few years I spent a lot of time at sea. The dog seemed to be good protection for Diane, but over time we discovered he had more than a few problems. He was overprotective, destroyed all our furniture, and was overly aggressive around other humans, so when Diane was expecting our first child, we decided he had to go. This was not a friendly dog, and I worried about him attacking guests, or Diane, or the baby when she arrived. Quite honestly, I thought about doing what the governor did, but figured in Southern California they’d lock me up. So, we tried to find him a new home. We succeeded in giving him to a family that lived on a ranch in northern San Diego county. Within a few months they wanted to return him, but we refused (the baby had arrived). We’re pretty certain they placed him in an ASPCA shelter where he was no doubt euthanized. 

My dogs (with this one exception) were all well-trained animals and a comfort to our family. They were not working dogs — hunters, shepherds, etc. — but were family pets. We cared for them and they cared for us in their own unique way. But they were all very different and displayed their affection in varying ways. 

And yet, as you might expect, I have no problem with the governor’s dispatching her dog. If you’re one of those folks who places dogs and spiders and aardvarks and cows and lions and tigers and bears all on the same value level as human beings, we have a philosophical and theological obstacle to further discussion. You might object to the means she used to dispatch the dog, but it was probably far more humane and quicker than many other means.

Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter - Year B

Readings: Acts 4:8-12; Ps 118; 1 Jn 3:1-2; Jn 10:11-18

I’m going to tell you a story; and it’s a true story.

Back when I was flying off aircraft carriers, we pilots tended to hang out with each other when off duty. We’d talk about aviation, working on improving our skills -- you know, stayin’ alive. But we’d also talk about other stuff, especially over meals. We'd always been told that officers shouldn’t talk religion or politics in the wardroom. In truth, though, we often talked about these things; but we knew each other well and forgave our differences.

One of our squadron pilots, a friend named Bill, talked a lot about religion. I thought that was strange since at best he was agnostic. Anyway, it really bothered him that so many of us were believers, especially Christians. One evening, before one of those tiring night missions, several of us were probably on our fifth cup of coffee, when Bill started on his favorite rant.

“Just look at the universe,” he said. “It’s just too big to imagine with its billions of galaxies. Then we have earth, this tiny planet of ours, so infinitesimally insignificant, stuck in some little cosmic corner.

“Is there a God who made all this? Maybe so. I don't know. 

“But you Christians believe that this God who created everything, and maintains it all, that He decided to come down here to our nothing little planet, become one of us, tell us how to live, and then let us kill Him by nailing Him to a Cross.”

Then he said, “I’m sorry, but this is just beyond…as you would say, beyond belief.” Yes, indeed, Bill thought Christians were idiots. 

Now, I was just another pilot, but felt I had to say something in defense of our faith, so I just said, “Bill, do you love your wife?”

Well, that surprised him. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Do you love Marie?”

“Of course I do.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you together. I can tell you love her.  And you’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Would you give your life for her?”

“Of course I would. Heck, I’d even give my life for you guys, though you don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, we know that. You see, Bill, the God who created that great universe you described, also created you and me, and created us in His image and likeness. 

“He created us out of love and created us to love. And because of His love, you can love Marie.”

All Bill said was, “Well…maybe.” I guess I wasn't very convincing.

A few years later I received word that Bill had taken his own life. When we first heard the news one of my more fundamentalist friends said, “How sad that he’s now in hell.”

Well, that made me angry, and for a moment, I just stared at him in disbelief. Finally, I said, “You really think you’re God, don’t you? That you can decide who's saved or who or isn’t. But salvation is God’s business, not ours. All we can do is what Paul told the Philippians:

“…work out your salvation with fear and trembling” [Phil 2:12].

"Only God knows what Bill struggled with, what fears claimed him. Only God knows what was in his heart. All I know is God will look on Bill with love and mercy, for 'His mercy endures forever.'  Because that’s who our God is. And I know nothing else, nothing else for certain.”

I just walked away angry, which was stupid. I’d like to think I’d handle both situations differently today. 

Sisters and brothers, today on Good Shepherd Sunday, we celebrate God’s great love for us, and we do it despite the skepticism and disbelief of so many in the world, people like my friend Bill.

In John’s Gospel we hear Jesus clearly revealing who He is and how important we are to him.

“I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.”

Jesus doesn’t abandon us in the face of danger; no, He sacrifices Himself.

Just consider what it means for God to sacrifice His life for us. This divine sacrificial act has led some to ask: Is God of the Christians insane? Is He crazy? I suppose Bill thought that too.

But our Gid isn't crazy; no, our God is Love. His is a love, not simply beyond our capability, but it’s beyond our understanding. In St. Paul’s words, “He emptied himself” and became one of us to offer His life to save ours. And He did this solely out of love. Do you see the kind of God we have, this Good Shepherd who cares so much for us?

Then, to ensure we get the point, Jesus turns to us and tells us to love others as he has loved us, to be willing to give our lives for them, even for those the world says just aren’t worth it. Our love for God, Jesus tells us, must be mirrored in our love for others.

Remember that wonderful scene described in John’s Gospel when, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the risen Jesus asks Peter three times:

“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

…and each time Peter responds,

“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

To the first yes, Jesus said “Feed my lambs”; to the second, “Tend my sheep”; and to the third, “Feed my sheep.” Your love for me, Jesus is telling Peter, will be evidenced by how well you tend my sheep, my people, those for whom I sacrificed my life to save.

But Jesus didn’t stop with Peter. He turns to all of us, all of us in the Body of Christ. He doesn’t say, “love me as I have loved you.” No, instead He commands, "love one another as I have loved you." 

In our first reading, we learned that our love for others must manifest God’s love, and the good that we do must be done in Jesus’ name. As Peter proclaimed:

“There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved."

It’s all Jesus Christ, in Jesus Christ, through Jesus Christ, and only Jesus Christ.

John presents this a bit differently in our 2^nd reading:

“See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.”

Children of God… you and me… all of us:

• the poor in need of a meal or a place to sleep...they're God's children
• the Alzheimer’s patient in memory care...is a child of God
• the lonely, the depressed, whom nobody visits...a child of God
• the neighbor undergoing radiation and chemo-therapy...she's a child of God
• the prisoner locked away in his cell...yes, he too is a child of God
• the single mother struggling to make ends meet...a child of God

And, yes, many of us may be suffering as well, but that doesn’t mean we stop loving. 

For all of us, children of God, are brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ. We’re not strangers; for children of the same loving Father can’t be strangers. Brothers and sisters of our Lord, Jesus Christ, can’t be strangers.

Jesus calls us not simply to love others, but to see and hear Him in them, to realize that what we do for and to each other, we do to Him.

“I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’

I suppose at judgment we will judge ourselves by our response to this calling as children of God.

Years ago, Diane and I attended a papal audience in Rome, and heard Pope Benedict say:

“As a community, the Church must practice love…The Church cannot neglect the service of love any more than she can neglect the Sacraments and the Word.”

At every level, then — the universal Church, the diocese, the parish, the home – we must love. This is how the Church shows who she really is.

Outside a Catholic church in Syracuse, NY there’s a statue of a man seated on the sidewalk. I think there's a similar statue at Ave Maria University here in Florida. It’s a statue, a sculpture, of a beggar, wearing a hood, his face covered. His hand is stretched out toward those who walk by, much like the hand of the beggar reaching out to Peter in our reading from Acts. 

But if you look closely, you’ll notice a nail hole in that hand. Yes, it’s Our Lord, the risen Jesus bearing the wounds of His love; it’s the Jesus who humbled Himself to became like a slave, a beggar.

For those who pass by it’s a constant reminder to look beyond appearances and see Jesus in all who reach out to them.

And for you and me it’s a reminder that Christ has His hand stretched out to us right now.

God love you.

And please…pray for my friend, Bill, and for all those veterans who found their lives to hard to live.

Homily: Tuesday within the Octave of Easter

Readings: Acts 2:36-41; Ps 33; Jn 20:11-18

_______________________

Our Gospel passage from John is among my favorites, but today it has risen to a new level of importance for me. Let's just revisit it.

Overwhelmed by grief, Mary Magdalene made her way to the tomb. And we understand it, for she had lost her Jesus, He who had saved her. In a very real sense, Jesus, who had expelled her demons, had brought her back to life, raising her to new life. But now He was dead.

She couldn’t deny it. She had seen Him breathe His last. She’d followed as they carried His lifeless body to the tomb. Yes, indeed, her Jesus was dead. She had come there that morning to anoint His body, something she couldn’t do on the Passover Sabbath. But now in the early morning of the third day, she found the tomb empty. Adding to her grief, then, was confusion. Who could have taken Him? It was all too much for her, and she wept, seeing but not yet understanding.

Don’t you just love Mary Magdalene? It’s hard not to. She’s just so very human. She proves that as God leads us to holiness, He doesn’t let holiness overwhelm our humanity. How easy it is for Mary, and for you and me, to miss the Lord when our focus is elsewhere. Yes, Mary is looking for a dead Jesus, not a risen, living Jesus. We witness this even in her dialog with the angels. Did she recognize the angels in the tomb as angels? I don’t think so. She knew only that neither one was Jesus. 

Sitting there in the tomb of the risen Jesus, probably with smiles on their faces, they asked her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” What a question! Who are these men? “Someone’s taken my Lord. Where have they put Him?” So, she turned around, and there was Jesus, right in front of her. But she thought He was the gardener. 

I’ve always liked that. After all, God’s relationship with humanity began in a garden, a garden He created for our first parents. Yes, our God has always been a kind of gardener, providing us with everything we need for eternal life. Mary, then, wasn’t far off, was she? For what is a gardener, but one devoted to bringing forth new life from the ground.

And yet, to mistake the risen Jesus for a gardener? He must have looked so very ordinary in His humanity, and yet so very different that she could not recognize Him. Jesus, the Gardener, repeated the angels' question, didn’t He? “Woman, why are you weeping?” and followed it with another “Whom are you looking for?” Still clueless, Mary almost accused the would-be gardener of taking Jesus.

But it took only one word from our Lord. He called her by name, and at once she recognized him. I suspect that with this very personal revelation of the Resurrection, Mary instantly understood it all, as if the pieces of a puzzle suddenly flew together, forming a perfect. clear picture. She now grasped it all -- everything He had done, every look, every Word, every gesture -- and she knew the truth: Jesus lives! And like Peter, she now knew that He is "the Christ, the Son of the Living God" [Mt 16:16]. And it is to Peter and the brothers that she would take this wondrous news. She had seen the Lord!

And that’s all well and good, but how about us? We, too, believe it, but do we really live it?

I was writing this homily on Good Friday morning because I knew I‘d have a busy weekend, with little time for homily writing. But I put it aside, half-written, to get ready for the 3 pm service. Later, as I drove to church, I went through the Lynnhaven gate and turned onto Rainey Trail. That's when I saw him.

He was young, in his 20s. He had a scraggly beard and wore perhaps the shabbiest clothes I’d ever seen in The Villages. Filthy sweatpants with big holes in them, a well-stained, torn sweatshirt, sneakers falling apart. He was a mess. And he had just fallen down on the other side of Rainey Trail - half in the street and half on the grass. 

I stopped the car, lowered the window, and asked if he were OK. He just said, “No. I hurt. Can you take me to the store up on 301?” 

So, I called him over. He got to his feet, limped across the road, and climbed into the passenger seat. He smelled about the way he looked, but it wasn’t that bad. I’ve smelled worse.

I asked him his name and he responded with all three: first, middle, and last.

I asked if wanted me to call 911 or drive him to the fire station. “They can help you there.”

"No," he said, "just take me to the store."

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, that's all I want."

So, I drove off to the convenience store-gas station, only a mile away.

"Are you from the area," I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you have family here?"

Again, "Yes."

Not sure what to say, I just told him, "Today's Good Friday, you know." He said nothing. And so, I added, “It’s a special day. Reminds us of how much God loves us.” 

He just said, “That’s good.”

I asked if he needed a few bucks. No response. Then I realized I had no cash on me, only a debit card. So, I told him. He didn’t seem to mind.

By now we were at the convenience store. As I pulled into a parking place, I just said, “Call your family."  

"OK.” With that he got out of the car, said, “Thanks,” and limped into the store.

Minutes later, as I pulled into the church's parking lot, Mary and the Gardener forced their way into my thoughts. I don't believe in coincidence, never have. God works in our lives in the simplest and the most marvelous ways. And so, I was led to wonder: 

With whom did I just spend those few minutes? 

That's when I recalled Jesus’ words: 

“Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.” [Mt 25:20]

And it hit me...hard. I hadn't done very much, had I?

Brothers and sisters, it's not enough just to know about Jesus,

We have to know Him, know Him personally.

We have to meet Him, to meet Him and see Him in everyone we encounter.

And then we have to love Him.

Resurrection: A Poem by Jennifer

Our parish is blessed to have many people who want to deepen their lives of faith through the study of God’s Word revealed in Sacred Scripture. We now have over 130 parishioners participating in our parish’s Bible Study. To accommodate so many people we offer three weekly sessions. As the usual facilitator, I occasionally cannot attend a particular session and must call on one of our parishioners to fill in for me. Most often I turn to Jennifer Smart, who kindly and ably takes the reins and actually does a far better job than yours truly. A lifelong student of the Bible and ancient history, Jennifer has also spent a considerable amount of time in both Egypt and Israel and brings to our sessions valuable first-hand knowledge of the Middle East and its people.

Jennifer is also a poet who some years ago wrote the following poem, Resurrection, which she recently shared with our Bible Study participants. It seems fitting to include it here as we begin Holy Week. I trust you will enjoy reading and meditating on these verses:

_______________________________________

                    Resurrection 

 “He is not here, but know that He is risen,”

The gathered mourners heard the angel say;

We marvel how this deathless gift was given

To those who witnessed that first Easter Day.

The rock that sealed Christ’s chamber seemed a portal

To darkness shrouding hopelessness and strife;

Instead it was a door to God Immortal

And passageway to everlasting life.

We join in Easter fellowship with others

To share the angel’s words the world has known;

Whenever we reach out to one another,

We link our hands and roll away the stone. 

_____________________________________

Thank you, Jennifer; and a blessed and fruitful Holy Week to all.

Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent (Year B)

Readings: Jer 31:31-34; Ps 51; Heb 5:7-9; Jn 12: 20-33

When I was a kid in suburban New York, during the spring and summer months, my mom would sometimes ask me to help her weed her gardens. I always grumbled because she usually called me away from really important stuff, like playing stickball…but I obeyed. If you don’t know what stickball is, just ask someone who grew up in New York.

Anyway, Mom had two gardens, a small vegetable garden in the backyard and a rose garden out front. I’d usually end up in the rose garden, getting attacked by the thorns. I refused to wear the gloves she’d given me because they were pink girly gloves with flowers all over them. Out in the front yard, I couldn’t risk being seen. Some things are more important than pain and suffering.

Mom had names for her two gardens: Eden and Gethsemane. One day I asked, “Why those names?”

“The Garden of Eden,” she said, “far more than our little vegetable garden, was filled with wonderful things to eat, all kinds of fruit and vegetables that God provided for Adam and Eve. It was a very nice place. 

"But our beautiful rose garden, as you’ve discovered, can also be a painful place. I’m sure the Garden of Gethsemane was beautiful with its ancient olive trees, but for Jesus it became a place of deep suffering.”

“Perhaps tonight,” she said, “after supper, we can read about these two gardens in the Bible” – Mom’s way of opening the Scriptures to us.

Thorns Protect the Rose

This memory of long ago came to mind as I read the readings with which the Church blessed us today.

First, we heard the prophet Jeremiah, as he revealed the purpose of all that had come before, the fulfillment of the promises, the covenants God made with Abraham, Moses, and David. All will be fulfilled, Jeremiah tells God’s People, through a New eternal Covenant, very different from the Old. The Holy Spirit revealed to the prophet that God will pour His Law into His People and write it on their hearts. “All will know me,” says the Lord, ”from the least to the greatest.” This is the New Covenant fulfilled by Jesus, the eternal High Priest, the Son of God who offers Himself in sacrifice for the salvation of all, the salvation of everyone, from the least to the greatest.

Moments from now, Father will take the chalice in his hands and proclaim the words of consecration, Jesus’ words at the Last Supper:

“For this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the New and Eternal Covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

Did you catch all that? The New Covenant is sealed in the Blood of the Son, the Blood of the Lamb of God, Blood poured out for us. Why?

“I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more.” We are redeemed.

As Mom explained to me, “It began in Eden, in that garden filled with good things. But sin brought it all to an end, which led to more sin, to illness and pain and suffering, and to death itself.”

Those weren’t very happy words to throw at a ten-year-old kid, but Mom always spoke the truth to us. Then, pointing to the crucifix, she said: “God made a promise. Jesus, who is God Himself, died for us on that Cross, so we might be forgiven of all of sins, and live forever with Him in heaven.”

Well, pretty good catechesis. It hit the high points and heaven sounded better than suffering and death. So, I asked, “What about the rose garden?” Her answer?

“Jesus spent the night before He died in the Garden of Gethsemane to prepare Himself for the Cross. He saw all the bad things people had done…so hard for Him that His sweat became like drops of blood. And those band-aids on your hands are just a tiny sign of what Jesus suffered for you and me.” Then like every Catholic mother in those days said to her kids when they companied, “Offer it up!”

Olive Tree in Gethsemane

In John’s Gospel, speaking to Andrew and Philip, Jesus looks to His Passion, and His humanity is there in His words:

“I am troubled now. Yet what should I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”

…and again, we’re reminded of this in today’s 2^nd reading from Hebrews:

“…He offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save Him from death.”

Yes, Jesus knew He would have to suffer. But it’s also in Hebrews where our unknown author makes an astounding theological claim:

“God made His Son perfect through suffering”

We ask ourselves, “How could God’s Son need to be made perfect? And why through suffering?” But that’s not all. Hebrews goes on to tell us, “He learned obedience from what He suffered.”

What does it all mean? For Jesus to be made perfect doesn’t mean He was ever morally flawed. No, He freely chose to take on human nature in its fallen state, with its weaknesses, pain, and death; and through His suffering to perfect His human nature in holiness. In the Garden and during His Passion, Jesus allowed the evil of the world to pour over Him, and out of this to create the most perfect act of love, trust, and obedience to God that could ever come from a human heart. It was in this furnace of suffering that His human nature was refined to perfection, transformed for His entrance into divine glory through His Resurrection.

To make us holy, Jesus had to become one with us. As St. Paul reminds us, our salvation comes from God, Who lowered Himself to share our very being, in all but sin. Jesus, then, Son of God and Son of Man, is not ashamed to call us His sisters and brothers. Indeed, He’s overjoyed, for He became one of us in the most radical way: He became our blood relative.

All of this sets a pretty high standard for you and me. How did He put it in the Sermon on the Mount?

“So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” [Mt 5:48]

Again, what does it all mean for us? Let’s look first at ourselves, then turn again to the Gospel.

Here we are, most of us retired, living comfortable lives in central Florida. From a global perspective, materially, we’re probably in the top 10%. And for those of you still working, thank you. Thank you for funding our social security.

Yes, indeed, we have lives worth living, don’t we? But are they lives worth loving? 

Jesus speaks:

“Those who love their life lose it, those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

For Jesus, loving earthly life means placing it above all else. To hate our life in this world just means it must never outweigh our striving for eternal life. Yes, unless the grain of wheat dies, it cannot bear fruit. Can we die to this life? Can we, too, accept our suffering, the thorns in our lives, that lead to the perfection God desires of us.

How many today make the pleasures, comforts, wealth of their earthly lives ends in themselves? Indeed, we live in a world that preaches the denial of mortality, that offers a thousand ways to ease physical or mental pain, that promises youth even to the oldest among us, yet leaves us spiritually dead.

Some weeks ago, while visiting a parishioner in the hospital, I had a brief chat with the patient who shared his room. His first words to me: “My wife died years ago, but now because of my heart, I can’t play golf anymore. It’s made my Ife no longer worth living.”

How very sad that nothing in his life was more important. Yes, “those who love their life lose it.”

What, then, is more important than our life in this world? Jesus provides the answer:

Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

Yes, our confession of faith is necessary, but also insufficient. We must live our faith. We must serve.

Perhaps this should be our focus during these final days of Lent.

I can’t tell you how God is calling each of you to serve. His call, what He expects of us, is the fruit of our own prayer life, our willingness to listen to God’s Word as He speaks to us. God calls some, like the rich young man in the Gospel, to sell everything, and give it all to the poor. And yet, He doesn’t ask that of everyone. But to all of us, God commands: “Follow me and serve!” Get you hands dirty, brothers and sisters…

Feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and imprisoned…and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

All of us aren’t called to be global missionaries, but how many lonely, despairing people in your neighborhood live forgotten lives? Do you know?

How many, like the Greeks who came to Philip, would like to see Jesus, to see Jesus in their lives, to hear His Word, to taste His goodness?

How many are waiting…waiting for you or for me or for someone else to share God’s love with them?

How many?

 

Life in The Villages

Here in The Villages Diane and I live in a neighborhood brought into being 20 years ago. We and many of our neighbors have lived here from the start. Some of our original neighbors have died, or moved away, or entered some form of assisted living. Other slightly younger folks have bought their homes and changed the neighborhood demographics somewhat. But time marches on, so the change is hardly noticeable. Just do the math and you'll realize we're an aged bunch. 

Because we’ve lived in this neighborhood for so many years, most of us tend to watch out for each other. After all, as Dear Diane and I often remind ourselves, “We’re just a bunch of geezers and geezettes, who sometimes need a little help.” Too often the help we provide, or try to provide, progresses in strange and circuitous ways. In many respects I’m probably the least helpful neighbor. My excuse? I’m just not at home very much. Ministries in our parish keep me on the move and too often away from home. Perhaps I should learn to focus more on that which is near to me. I’m trying to work on that, as I come to the understanding that others can do all that I do, and likely do it better. But enough self-analysis. Let me offer an example of neighbors helping neighbors by relating a series of events that took place a not long ago. 

One Saturday evening I had returned home from the 4 pm vigil Mass when I received a detailed text from a neighbor. She informed me an ambulance had arrived at another neighbor’s home, and soon after the EMTs placed someone in the ambulance and left, presumably headed for the hospital. She couldn’t identify whether the “patient” was a man or a woman. I had some questions, so she suggested I call the couple’s immediate neighbor who had been directly involved. So I called the other neighbor, who provided more detail. Apparently, unknown to me, the wife, suffering from pneumonia, had been admitted to the hospital the day before. On Saturday afternoon she’d tried to call her husband to ask if he would bring a few needed items to the hospital, but he hadn’t answered the phone. Understandably concerned, she called her immediate neighbor. That couple went next door and found the husband disoriented and unable to walk even a few steps. They called for an ambulance which ultimately took him to the hospital. 

Two problems arose. First, when she called the hospital, the immediate neighbor could get no information on the man’s condition — standard hospital protocol. They were told only that he was in the ER. Second, the hospitalized couple have a dog. The immediate neighbors fed the dog, took him out for a few minutes, then returned him to his own home. Later, at about 9 p.m., they discover the husband had definitely been admitted. So they called me and asked the big question: What to do with the dog? They were in the process of training their own new puppy, so really couldn’t introduce another dog into their home. No problem. Because Diane and I love dogs, we volunteered to take temporary custody of Scout, a little Shih Tzu. Scout knew and trusted us, had been a pal of our dear, late Maddie, and had been in our house several times. So I went to Scout’s home, let myself in, gathered some dogfood and a few other items, then took the little critter back to our home.

As it turned out, Scout’s owners each spent about a week in the hospital, then several more weeks at a local rehab facility. Throughout it all Scout adjusted well, slept on our bed, and accompanied me on my daily walks. He and I established a routine that worked well for both of us. It seems, however, he got rather attached to me. According to Diane, whenever I left the house, Scout would sit by the door until I returned. She, of course, was the one who fed him, so perhaps his loyalty was more than a little displaced. I just think he’s one of those “guy dogs.” I tell you all this so you won’t think Diane and I were inconvenienced. We weren’t, not the slightest. It was a joy. We had recently lost our little Maddie, and Scout’s “parents” were friends, so we were the logical candidates to care for Scout. All went well. Many other neighbors contributed in a variety of helpful and far more meaningful ways. Scout is now back home with his “mom and dad,” who are recovering well.

Since these events, just a month or so ago, several similar situations have arisen in the neighborhood. In each instance different neighbors have stepped in and cared for those in need. Some even took ill neighbors into their homes and provided temporary care. Christians and Jews, these good people live their faith and instinctively help others whenever needed. 

And yet, the neighborhood isn’t perfect, because all of us who live here are imperfect as well. Sadly, you and I are too often ready to focus of others’ imperfections or criticize them over petty issues. Perhaps we should look in the mirror and remove the beam from our own eye. Yes, we know our neighbors, or think we do. We hear the stories (the neighborhood gossip) and too often spread it around a bit. But at some point we must accept that no one, at that includes you and me, is perfect. We’re all sinners. But most of these imperfections we carry around with us are not horrible things; they’re just human things. And as we see in the Gospel, Jesus is remarkably tolerant toward them. He forgives, he loves, just as we must forgive and love.

God likes to keep things simple, while we’re the ones who complicate everything. God told us to do two things, and if we do them, all else just falls in line: Love the Lord, your God with your whole heart, soul, mind, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself. If we all did that, just imagine the kind of world we’d have. And even though we live in a sinful world, we are blessed with an occasional glimpse of God’s love right here in our neighborhoods as we witness neighbor helping neighbor. 

Love your neighbor, sisters and brothers — love your neighbor as you love yourself. Perhaps that’s the problem today. Too many people don’t love themselves, so they can hardly love another. And if you don’t love yourself, just remember, God knows everything about you, and yet He loves you more deeply than you could ever imagine. Once you understand and accept this, and learn to love yourself, loving others becomes much easier.