Ship Shape

While we're on the subject of boating... During the summer months, I usually leave all my kayaking gear in the trunk of my car, whether the kayak's strapped to the roof or not. So on Thursday--without my kayak--I took my car over to the VW dealer in Burlington, VT. While waiting to board the ferry across Lake Champlain on my return trip, I was one of the lucky few chosen for a spot Homeland Security inspection. After looking through my trunk, the lady came back to the window and said, "There's really no need to bring your own lifejacket; we have more than enough of them on the ferry for everyone!"

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

Readings

Even as a little boy I thought about becoming a priest.

But on those days when priesthood wasn’t on my mind,

one of the other things I thought about was becoming an architect.

(Of course, I would have tried just about anything

if it got me out of my farm chores…)

So I’d like to start this morning

with a brief lesson in architecture—

church architecture, to be specific.

You might not have ever noticed but, with few exceptions,

Catholic churches—no matter their age or their style—

have a basic three-part plan.

First, there is the area around the door,

which is called the narthex.

It’s a gathering point and an entry hall,

a brick-and-mortar passageway symbolizing our spiritual passage

from the world outside—with all its trials and tribulations—

to this place set apart.

Most traditionally, you’ll find the baptismal font here;

near the entrance to the church building

is celebrated the sacrament which gives entrance

to the life of the Church community.

All the way at the opposite end of the church

there’s the area around the altar,

which is called the sanctuary—meaning, the “holy place.”

It is here that the Church’s sacred ministers perform their sacred duties:

here that God’s holy Word is proclaimed and preached;

here that holy gifts are given for a holy people,
as bread and wine become for us the Body and Blood of Christ.

But what about all this space left between them?

It has a name, too: it’s called the nave,

which comes from the Latin word for “ship.”

If you take the main body of most churches

and picture them turned upside down,

you get the basic shape of a boat.

(For some churches,

this will take a little more imagination than others!)

But this unexpected name—the ship, the nave—

comes from more than just a loose physical resemblance.*

Notice in the course of this Sunday’s gospel

that we find Jesus is two distinct places:

first, we find him out in a boat;

next, we find him back on shore.

Out at sea, Jesus is alone with his disciples,

but on land he’s surrounded by vast crowds—

crowds who bring him their sick,

crowds who let him know that they’re hungry.  (cf. J. Lienhard)

It kind of paints a picture

of the place of the Church in our world, doesn’t it?

We come here, to a place apart,

to set sail on this ship with Jesus.

We come here to withdraw from a world

where health and food—for both body and soul—

are so often lacking.

Here, we can get close to Jesus.

Here, we can take refuge in him.

Here, our faith is renewed

that no power on earth or in the heavens

can ever separate us from the love of God revealed in Christ.

Yet that doesn’t make the difficulties back on land

somehow go away.

And we can’t stay out to sea forever.

When Jesus has disembarked,

and his disciples want him to dismiss the needy crowds,

take careful note of his response:

Give them some food yourselves.

So the disciples take inventory:

five loaves and two fish…which, in their own hands,

appear to be nothing more than a couple of sandwiches.

But five loaves and two fish, when placed in the hands of the Lord,

will become more than enough to feed thousands.

You see, Jesus doesn’t focus on what is lacking—

sending everybody home to fend for themselves.

Instead of whining or wallowing in self-pity,

Jesus gives thanks for what they do have

and focuses his efforts on spreading it around.

Like those first disciples who could only see

the limited resources which they could count,

we can get rather discouraged these days

when we’re looking at the numbers—

whether it’s fewer priests in the sanctuary,

or fewer people in the nave,

or fewer dollars in the collection basket.

And we can be overwhelmed when we consider

the vast crowds of the walking wounded

who don’t even realize that they’re limping along;

the hungry and thirsty crowds

who spend their wages on what fails to satisfy;

the growing crowds of people who struggle through this life

without knowing God and how much he loves them.

We fear and we fret about all this

because we—just like the rest—

need to be healed and need to be fed.

And so we come back, Sunday after Sunday,

for another dinner cruise.

And we must watch and learn

as Jesus does now, with a little bread and wine,

what he once did with fives loaves and two fish—

with eyes raised to heaven,

taking and blessing, breaking and giving.

It’s not only the structure of our Eucharist;

it’s the very model for the Church’s mission in the world.

When the Mass is ended,

when we leave this safe harbor and get back to shore,

we will never be able to cure the sickness

or feed the hunger we find there

unless we put our otherwise limited resources

into the hands of Jesus

and allow him to multiply them.

For us on our own,

it would most certainly be impossible…

…but for God and those who put their trust in him,

all things are possible.

At this table, there is more than enough

for all to eat and be satisfied.

On board this ship, there is room aplenty

for anyone who wants to come away awhile with Jesus.

So let’s fill this nave!

Let’s lead many others toward this sanctuary!

Let’s not focus on what may be lacking,

but on sharing with a hurting and hungry world

what we have found here in the boat:

the unconquerable love of God

in Christ Jesus our Lord.

*The church pictured here is that of Ste-Catherine in Honfleur, France, on the Normandy coast. The largest wooden church in the country, dating all the way back to the late 15th century, it was most likely one of the last places visited by my ancestors before they set sail for New France in the mid-1600's.  It's little wonder that in an active port town the "naval" imagery of the church's ceiling--fashioned by local ship-builders using only axes, no saws--would be so very obvious!

St. Ignatius of Loyola

If today weren't Sunday, we'd be celebrating the feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556). With three years of fine Jesuit theological education under my belt--and at their flagship university, no less--it seems only right to pay some tribute to their holy founder.

Among the many riches left us by St. Ignatius is his Suscipe--a prayer he wrote (or at least promoted) which sums up so well his approach to the spiritual life:

Receive, O Lord, all my liberty.

Take my memory,

my understanding,

and my entire will.

Whatsoever I have or hold,

you have given me;

I give it all back to you

and surrender it wholly

to be governed by your will.

Give me only your love and your grace,

and I am rich enough

and ask for nothing more.

The 27th successor to St. Ignatius as Father General of the Society of Jesus, Fr. Pedro Arrupe (1907-1991), left a rather similar spiritual testament in more contemporary language:

"Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.  It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything."

If only the Jesuits could have taught me in the classroom how to live that way...

St. Martha

Martha, burdened with much serving, came to Jesus and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving?" (Luke 10:40)

St. Martha usually gets press for being the "hostess with the mostest"--even going a bit overboard (if that's possible) when welcoming Christ as a guest in her home. But did you know that she also used to moonlight as a dragon tamer?

That's the legend in Provence, anyway. The story goes that, following an outbreak of violent persecution in the Holy Land, Martha of Bethany--along with Mary Magdalene, Lazarus, and a few other New Testament notables--relocated to the south of France.  (Who wouldn't?)  One of the local towns suffered regular attacks by a rather hideous monster with a taste for humans and a tendency to set things on fire.  When strong knights with catapults were unable to prevail, the locals called in St. Martha...who, with a splash of holy water and an uplifted cross, tamed the fearsome beast.  Using her girdle as a leash, she then led it to the village...where the townsfolk promptly and mercilessly slaughtered it.  After Martha converted the populace to Christianity, they repented of killing the recently civilized creature and therefore--to this very day--honor it with an annual festival and parade on or near St. Martha's feast.  (St George: Eat your heart out!)

Except when taken out for its yearly stroll through town at the end of July, this lovely piece of devotional art (I can personally vouch that this photo does not do it justice) hangs out in a side chapel of the Collegiate Church of Ste. Marthe in Tarascon, France...inspiring many impressionable children to faithfully say their prayers.

"No one of you should say: 'Blessed are they who have deserved to receive Christ into their homes!'  Do not grieve or complain that you were born in a time when you can no longer see God in the flesh.  He did not in fact take this privilege from you.  As he says: Whatever you have done to the least of my brothers, you did to me."

--from a sermon by St. Augustine

Sts. Joachim & Ann

Being of French-Canadian extraction, my family has long had a deep devotion to "Good St. Ann"--the mother of the Virgin Mary and grandmother of Christ.  While growing up, the celebration of today's feast often included a pilgrimage across Lake Champlain to St. Anne's Shrine in Isle LaMotte, VT, for an evening Mass and candlelight procession.  Needless to say, I'm quite happy that the façade of our own Notre Dame Church here in Malone is graced by beautiful marble statues of the saintly parents of the Mother of God.  O bonne Sainte Anne, priez pour nous!

"O good St. Anne, we call on thy name!  Thy praises loud, thy pilgrims proclaim!"

--traditional hymn to St. Anne

Off to Market

On this 43rd anniversary of the publication of Pope Paul VI's encyclical, Humanae Vitae, and during this  Natural Family Planning Awareness Week, the following seems a rather apt (and pleasantly cheeky) assessment of the current state of affairs:

"We have ceased to be stewards of the earth and started acting more like irresponsible, short-term renters.  Indeed, this hugely elaborate, technological attempt  to thwart and dominate God's creation is eerily similar to modern reproductive technology.  In the decades when our bodies ache to breed, we dose them into sterility, then as we reach the age when DNA gives up trying, we call in the B-52s to bomb our bodies into conceiving.  If liberals could learn to look at contraception the way they do agriculture, they'd understand the Church's teaching. Conversely, if Catholics applied the same respect for natural law to gluttony as to lust, they'd find themselves shopping at farmers' markets."

--John Zmirak, The Bad Catholics's Guide to the Seven Deadly Sins (2010), p. 78

Our Green Pope, again just last month, referred to this as "human ecology," making a very similar point...but in a much more appropriately papal fashion.

Dig It

Since it was 91 degrees when I pulled into St. Joseph's parking lot before Mass yesterday afternoon, I took both the 'shorter option' of the gospel reading and the 'shorts option' with what I wore underneath my vestments. (I did apologize just in case I was showing too much leg for anyone's comfort.)

If this homily sounds familiar, it's not a case of déjà vu, but that I've retouched last week's homily...since it takes me two weekends to preach at all six of our Sunday Masses. And--so sorry--but I don't have any pictures of me in that pirate hat...

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

Readings

Two weeks ago, when I arrived at Camp Guggenheim

to begin my week as chaplain there,

the staff informed me that it would be “Pirate Week”…

…which explained why so many of the counselors

were speaking with funny accents,

wearing bandanas on their heads, and saying, “Arrrg!” a lot.

I was kind of bummed: not about the whole pirate theme,

but that I didn’t know about it ahead of time…

…so I hadn’t come prepared with any costume or props of my own.

But have no fear:

by evening I was sporting a big, black pirate’s hat

and swashbuckling right along with all the rest,

doing what pirates do: searching for buried treasure.

This Sunday, Jesus uses buried treasure as an image

in one of his many parables about the kingdom.

It’s a pretty safe guess that a man out digging in a field

is a poor peasant, hired by the day

to do back-breaking, manual labor.

Little wonder he is so joyful to discover

such unexpected, unearned riches!

For someone who doesn’t have very much to start with,

it’s a rather risky move for him

to put everything on the line and buy that field.

Digging about for buried treasure is a fitting image, too,

for the important work of Camp Guggenheim.

So often when we’re talking about teenagers,

the discussion turns to “what’s wrong with kids these days.”

For nearly 40 years now,

our diocesan summer camp has been a place

where young people can thrive

without the many temptations and distractions

which could otherwise drag them down.

At Guggenheim, it’s easy to see

that there’s a whole lot that’s right with kids these days…

…as long as we’re willing to help our youth dig around a little

and bring their hidden riches to the surface.

Discovering buried treasure

is also an apt image for life in our parishes.

I was so pleased to see three local teens

among the many campers at Guggenheim that week--

and I know of several others going during this camp season;

that’s a testament to the good things happening

in our youth group, at Holy Family School,

and through other ministries to our youngest parishioners.

During the year I’ve been here in Malone,

I’ve met a number of faith-filled young adults;

I look forward to soon working with a few of them

on outreach to this crucial (but often missing) age-group

within our parish community.

As you’ve heard,

the diocesan Formation for Ministry program

is moving to Malone this September;

I’m happy to share
that we should have 10-12 candidates of our own

beginning the course in the fall.

And the coming implementation of the new Roman Missal 

will certainly provide our parishes with a rich opportunity

to deepen our understanding of the Eucharist

and renew our participation in the Mass.

Yes—we have quite a treasure here.

You don’t have to search too hard

to realize it’s a pearl of great price.

But do we share the life-changing joy

of the workman in the field

and the merchant at the market?

Do we recognize--like them--

that anything we may be called upon to surrender

can’t even begin to compare with all we stand to gain?

It’s with those questions in mind

that I wish to speak to you this Sunday

about our parish finances.

June 30 marked the end of our fiscal year,

and the annual financial reports are now being prepared.

If you add the ordinary income of our four parishes together,

it appears we took in about $50,000 less than the previous year--

which had also been down from the year before that.

(You’ve surely noticed this trend

from the weekly figures in the bulletin.)

At the same time, and rather unsurprisingly,

our regular expenses keep going up--in particular, utilities.

This all means that to pay our bills last year

a combined $35,000 was withdrawn from our savings

and one of our parishes borrowed $30,000 from the diocese.

Looking ahead, the budgets for this new fiscal year

project a combined deficit for our parishes approaching $20,000.

That’s just for ordinary expenses--

with our belt already tightened--

and does not account for any unexpected purchases or repairs.

All those good things we see happening in our parishes

necessarily come with a price tag.

Now, you don’t have to tell me that times are tight.

I feel it, too:

I feel it personally every time I put gas in my car;

I felt it as your pastor every time I signed another check

to pay for fuel oil this past winter.

And every day on the news, it seems,

I hear the gloomy reports about the U.S. economy.

(I also can’t help but wonder if all this negative talk

isn’t actually making matters worse:

convincing ourselves that things are bad,
and thus we’re making them so.)

All that being said,

I’m a firm believer that a little goes a long way.

This month, we priests are getting a very modest raise--

the first in four years.

Which tells me:

it’s time again to increase

what I put in my weekly offering envelope.

It’s been three years since I raised my personal gift to the church

from $25 each week to $30.

So, starting last week, I’ve increased it to $32 every Sunday.

Now, $2 doesn’t seem like a whole lot…

…but $2 a week for 52 weeks a year

adds up to more than a hundred bucks…

…and if just ten households do the same thing--

well, that’s already over a thousand dollars a year.

Like the day laborer’s modest savings

used to buy the treasure-rich field,

a seemingly small contribution can go quite far…

…as long as we’re all willing to do our part.

I know that many folks--just out of habit--

keep giving the same amount to their church

which they decided on decades ago…

…without taking into account that nothing in this world

still costs what it did decades ago.

Maybe it’s been a while

since you’ve reconsidered your weekly offering

and an increase of $5, $7, or even $10 is possible for you.

Or maybe you’re on a fixed income

and even a $2 increase--like mine--would break the bank.

All I ask is that everyone

give their own giving some thought and prayer.

Truly, no gift is too small to make a difference!

I also want to encourage all of our parishioners

to use offering envelopes.

Currently, 868 households in our parishes

have requested and receive envelopes in the mail;

unfortunately, only 402 of those households

actually used their envelopes last Sunday--far less than half!

It’s not that we want to keep tabs on who’s giving how much

(although using envelopes does allow us

to prepare an annual statement for you at tax time).

Much more importantly,

offering envelopes encourage regular, consistent, planned giving--

rather than a spur-of-the-moment decision

based on what happens to be in your pocket or your purse.

If you already get envelopes then, please, use them!

And if you don’t, why not think about asking for them?

Just drop us a note, send us an email, or give the parish office a call;

we’d be happy to put you on the list.

It’s not what I give, but how I give, that reveals my true priorities.

Am I giving to my full potential,

so that my parish can live up to its full potential?

Does my gift match my hopes and dreams for my parish--

now and into the future?

Just imagine what our parishes could be doing

if we only had to worry about making a difference…

…instead of how to pay the bills!

Spending a week at Camp Guggenheim

reaffirmed for me what great things can happen

when we make an investment in the goodness of our young people.

It’s the mission of our parishes to do the same thing

for both our members--young and old--

and the surrounding community.

Are we all willing to dig deep

and contribute to uncovering this rich but buried treasure?

The kingdom of heaven cannot be bought or sold,

but is a free gift of God waiting to be discovered…

…and yet--as the parables of Jesus make clear--

the kingdom costs everything.

So let’s not hold back!

What joy there is to be found

when we generously share the many blessings

which God has so generously given to us!

St. Mary Magdalene

"She thought it was the gardener..."  (John 20:15)

I'm rather fond of images of the first Easter morning that depict this meeting of Mary Magdalene and the risen Christ quite literally.  It kind of makes you wonder how many other "disguises" the Lord's been using since his resurrection...

"On the third day the friends of Christ coming at daybreak to the place found the grave empty and the stone rolled away. In varying ways they realized the new wonder; but even they hardly realized that the world had died in the night.  What they were looking at was the first day of a new creation, with a new heaven and a new earth; and in the semblance of the gardener God walked again in the garden, in the cool not of the evening but the dawn."

--G. K. Chesterton

Going with the Flow

Before the heat of the day got completely unbearable (my car registered 101 degrees late this afternoon), I took my kayak out for a nice paddle on the Deer River Flow, about a dozen miles or so south of Malone.  Peace and quiet and beauty all around...

St. Apollinaris

During my Italian sojourn, I had the chance to visit the two basilicas in and around Ravenna that are dedicated to the memory of "Sant'Apollinare."  He may not be very widely know (his feast was only recently restored to the universal calendar), but he sure has some mighty beautiful churches!

A native of Antioch (Turkey) and disciple of St. Peter the Apostle, Apollinarius was the first bishop of Ravenna (Italy) and is believed to have been martyred on July 23, 79 AD.

"It is not death as much as faith and dedication that make one a martyr; and just as it is a mark of virtue to fall in battle, in conflict, for the love of the king, so it is a mark of perfect virtue to engage in combat for a long time and to bring it to its conclusion.  Therefore, the enemy did not make him a martyr, since he did not inflict death, but he proved him to be a martyr, because he did not remove his faith."

--from a sermon by St. Peter Chrysologus (380-450) on the feast of St. Apollinaris

Cultivating Goodness

So, I'm back from my week at Camp Guggenheim--still a little sleepy, but otherwise none the worse for wear. If my calculations are right, it's been five years since I spent a week as camp chaplain. I was admittedly a little leery about getting back into the swing of things, but a great staff and a tremendous group of campers (one of the very best I've ever worked with) made it a cinch. (Not to mention that we had absolutely stellar weather!) So now it's back to the real world...and maybe another nap...

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

Readings

Lunch was just finished at summer camp,
and little Johnny wanted to jump into the lake.
“You know, it’s dangerous to swim on a full stomach,”
his camp counselor warned.
“Don’t worry,” Johnny answered,
“I’ll do the backstroke.”

To answer everyone’s question at once:
Yes, I had a great week as chaplain at Camp Guggenheim--

and I have plenty of evidence to prove it:
signs of a little sun on my forehead;
a bit of sand still between my toes;
and a wide array of very itchy bug bites!

In one of the few quiet moments during the week,
I read the following in my book of daily meditations:
          "The gardener who spent all his time digging up weeds
          and never thought very much of strengthening his plants
          would produce a very tidy but depressing garden.…
          Weeding must be done;
          but the first thing is the flowers.” (Fr. Bede Jarrett, OP)
What a wonderful summary--I thought--

of the first parable Jesus proposes in this Sunday’s gospel.

It’s a fitting reflection, too,
on the important work of Camp Guggenheim.
So often when we’re talking about teenagers,
the discussion turns to “what’s wrong with kids today.”
For nearly 40 years now,
our diocesan summer camp has been a place
where young people can thrive
without the many temptations and distractions
which could otherwise drag them down.
At Guggenheim, it’s easy to see
that there’s a whole lot that’s right with kids today…
…it just needs to be nurtured and carefully cultivated.

I also find the words from that meditation
to be an apt reflection on life in our parishes.
I was so pleased to see three local teens
among the many campers at Guggenheim last week--
and I know of several others going during this camp season;
that’s a testament to the good things happening
in our youth group, at Holy Family School,
and through other ministries to our youngest parishioners.
During the year I’ve been here in Malone,
I’ve met a number of faith-filled young adults;
I look forward to soon working with a few of them--
and the diocese’s new director of Young Adult Ministry--
on outreach to this crucial (but often missing) age-group
within our parish community.
As you’ve heard, the diocesan Formation for Ministry program
is moving to Malone this September;
I realistically anticipate that we will have
10-12 candidates beginning the course in the fall.
And the coming implementation of the new Roman Missal
will certainly provide our parishes with a rich opportunity
to deepen our understanding of the Eucharist
and renew our participation in the Mass.

Yes--there are many flowers budding in the garden;
there’s a good crop now ripening in our fields.

That’s not to say, however, I don’t have a few concerns
about this particular plot in the farm of God’s kingdom.
No--I’m not too worried about runaway weeds.
Unlike a flowerbed or vegetable patch,
with God’s patience and grace every weed in the field of the spirit
has the real potential to be converted into wheat before harvest time.

What generally concerns me more than weeds are the bare spots:
the areas where things aren’t growing.
This Sunday, I want to address an absolutely practical one:
our parish finances.

June 30 marked the end of our fiscal year,
and the annual financial reports are now being prepared.
If you add the ordinary income of our four parishes together,
it appears we took in about $50,000 less than the previous year--
which had also been down across the board from the year before that.
(You’ve surely noticed this trend
from the weekly figures in the bulletin.)
At the same time, and rather unsurprisingly,
our regular expenses keep going up—in particular, utilities.
This all means that to pay our bills last year
a combined $35,000 was withdrawn from our savings
and one of our parishes borrowed $30,000 from the diocese.
Looking ahead, the budgets for this new fiscal year
project a combined deficit for our parishes approaching $20,000.
That’s just for ordinary expenses--
with our belt already tightened--
and does not account for any unexpected purchases or repairs.

All those good things we see happening in our parishes
necessarily come with a price tag.

Now, you don’t have to tell me that times are tight.
I feel it, too:
I feel it personally every time I put gas in my car;
I felt it as your pastor every time I signed another check
to pay for fuel oil this past winter.
And every day on the news, it seems,
I hear the gloomy reports about the U.S. economy.
(I also can’t help but wonder if all this negative talk
isn’t actually making matters worse:
continually convincing ourselves that things are bad,
and thus making them so.

All that being said,
I’m a firm believer that a little goes a long way.

This month, we priests are getting a very modest raise--
the first in four years.
Which tells me:
it’s time to increase what I put in my weekly offering envelope.
It’s been three years since I raised my gift to the church
from $25 each week to $30.
So, starting today, I’m increasing it to $32 every Sunday.
Now, $2 doesn’t seem like a whole lot…
…but $2 a week for 52 weeks a year
adds up to more than a hundred bucks…
…and if just ten households do the same thing--
well, that’s over a thousand dollars a year.
Like the incredible growth of the tiny mustard seed
or the hidden working of yeast in a batch of dough,
a seemingly small contribution can go a long way…
…as long as we’re all willing to do our part.

I know that many folks--just out of habit--
keep giving the same amount to their church
which they started giving decades ago…
…without taking into account that nothing in this world
still costs what it did decades ago.
Maybe it’s been a while
since you’ve reconsidered your weekly offering
and an increase of $5, $7, or even $10 is possible for you.
Or maybe you’re on a fixed income
and even a $2 increase--like mine--would break the bank.
All I ask is that everyone give their own giving some thought and prayer.
Truly, no gift is too small to make a difference!

I also want to encourage all of our parishioners
to use offering envelopes.
Currently, 868 households in our parishes
have requested and receive envelopes in the mail;
unfortunately, only 418 of those households
actually used their envelopes last Sunday--less than half!
It’s not that we want to keep tabs on who’s giving how much
(although using envelopes does allow us
to prepare an annual statement for you at tax time).
Much more importantly,
offering envelopes encourage regular, consistent, planned giving--
rather than a spur-of-the-moment decision
based on what happens to be in your pocket or your purse.
If you already get envelopes the, please, use them!
And if you don’t, why not think about asking for them?
Just drop us a note, send us an email, or give the parish office a call;
we’d be happy to put you on the list.

Not what I give, but how I give, is an indicator of my true priorities.
Am I giving to my full potential,
so that my parish can live up to its full potential?
Does my gift match my hopes and dreams for my parish--
now and into the future?
Just imagine what our parishes could do
if we only had to worry about making a difference…
…instead of how to pay the bills!

Spending this past week at Camp Guggenheim
reaffirmed for me what great things can happen
when we nurture and cultivate the goodness in our young people.
It’s the mission of our parishes to do the same thing
for both our members--young and old--
and the surrounding community.
Yes, there are some weeds,
but strengthening the wheat and encouraging its growth comes first.
So lets get to work in the fields of the kingdom
and contribute to their upkeep.
If we all pitch in,
if we all generously share the blessings
which God has so generously given us,
what an abundant harvest there will be!

Invasive

If you haven't yet heard about this big, bad weed, check it out...and keep your distance!

I'll be away this week serving as chaplain at Camp Guggenheim (our diocesan summer camp). Please keep me, the campers, and the staff in your prayers!

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

Readings

Have you ever heard of Giant Hogweed?

Before this week, I hadn’t either.

From the pictures,

it looks quite a lot like Queen Anne’s Lace…

…except a whole lot bigger:

growing as much as fourteen feet tall,

with flowers up to two and a half feet wide.

Hogweed is what you’d call an “invasive species.”

It’s native to the other side of the planet,

but is now becoming established in the U.S. Northeast.

How did it get here?

Because someone thought it looked real pretty.

Why should we care?

Not only because this plant is spreading rapidly,

but because this plant is rather dangerous.

You see, Giant Hogweed’s sap can cause third degree burns

and permanent scarring if you get it on your skin,

not to mention blindness if it comes in contact with your eyes.

And because it’s large, hollow stem

makes such a neat toy—like a natural flute or telescope—

Giant Hogweed poses a particular risk to children.

That’s one big, bad weed!

Jesus speaks to us this Sunday about spiritual gardening

where the seed being sown is the word of God

and the field is the human soul.

He warns us of a number of serious pitfalls:

hungry birds, rocky ground, and choking thorns—

the devil’s envy, shallow faith, and worldly temptations.

These all have the potential

to prevent us from bearing much fruit—or any at all.

It’d like to add one more hazard to Jesus’ list:

weeds—in particular, those of the invasive kind.

We live in an age where many folks have come to assume

that any religion or spirituality, any philosophy or system of thought,

is surely just as good as every other.

“It’s really all the same,” it’s often said,

“and besides, they’re awfully nice people.  It’s all good!”

So we find certain practices, certain principles attractive—

especially ones which agree with me

when I just so happen to disagree

with the doctrines or disciplines of the Church,

whether the issue is contraception or human cloning,

marriage equality or euthanasia, abortion or an all-male priesthood.

Hence a foreign concept takes root in my thinking,
an alien belief takes root in my soul…

…and like the invasive plants

which gradually take over our roadsides and meadows,

what appears at first to be harmless can sooner or later
crowd out God’s word and my native fruit-bearing potential—

maybe even prove to be quite toxic.

Now, this not at all to suggest that Catholics

ought to be unquestioning or close-minded—far from it!

God, in fact, has made us to be thinking human beings,

not unconscious robots.

And believers need to be in constant dialogue

with the rich and diverse world beyond the borders of the Church,

since there is much that is true and good

to be found outside her visible limits.

However, if that were to mean we’re free to just pick and choose

among the many aspects of the Catholic faith…

…then wouldn’t that also mean everything is up for grabs?

My friends, if—as we profess—Jesus is truly the only Son of God

(and not just one wise and holy man among so many others),

then his teaching and the Church in which it endures

have an unprecedented credibility and an unsurpassed authority.

(And when I speak here about the Church,

I’m referring to her divine constitution,

not the foibles of her very human members.)

Since the mysteries of the kingdom

often come wrapped up in paradox and parables,

where do I turn first for deeper understanding? 

When looking for answers,

can it be prudent for me to assume

that the Church is out-of-touch or behind the times—

and that I somehow know better myself?

Especially on complex and controversial matters,

shouldn’t I take all the time and effort necessary

to make sure I really understand what the Church teaches

and where it’s coming from?

Instead of gravitating toward ideologies

which simply confirm what I already think and feel,

am I willing to let my mind be challenged and my heart stretched a bit? 

Thankfully, Giant Hogweed

hasn’t made its way to Franklin County—at least, not yet.

Of course, the best way to stay safe from this big, bad plant

is to keep it far away

and never fall prey to its false beauty in the first place.

So, too, with the rampant relativism of our day.

Yet even if my soul’s garden has already gotten a bit weedy,

all need not be lost…if I’m prepared to pull up

these invasive concepts and convictions by their roots.

Just like the rain and snow that come down from heaven,

watering the earth and making it fertile,

so does God continually sow the seed of his word—

never stingy, but exceedingly generous, scattering it widely.

In spite of many obstacles,

God’s purpose, God’s plan, will not be frustrated.

Let us, then, make sure there is room aplenty

for God’s word to take deep root in our hearts,

for it to grow and bear abundant fruit in our lives.

That is, of course, the end for which the Lord sends it.

Revolutionary

Given last Sunday (July 3), this is most likely the longest homily I've ever written/delivered. It's also the first one (that I know of) when I've had somebody get up and leave church because of what I've said from the pulpit. I don't mention this with any pride whatsoever; I mention it in case my words similarly upset any of you. That's certainly not my intention! (And how I wish I had a chance to speak one-on-one with that lady from the 11:00am Mass!) But I do stand by this message, as hard as it might be for some to read/hear. Thankfully, I did receive quite a lot of positive feedback as well. In the end--thumbs up or thumbs down--I know I must always preach whatever the Lord lays upon my heart.

Thomas Merton (1915-1968), the American Trappist monk and author, once wrote, "One of the central issues in the prophetic life is that a person rocks the boat, not by telling slaves to be free, but by telling people who think they’re free that they’re slaves." I guess I heard the call to get the boat a-rockin'.

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

Readings

I’m going to warn you:

this homily is a bit longer than usual…

…but I plan to talk about S-E-X…so that should keep your attention.

And to those of you who aren’t very “computer literate,”

I apologize in advance for starting with the following example…

If you Google the word, “freedom,”

the first result which comes up

is not a dictionary definition nor a patriotic song,

but a computer program--an “app.”

Developed a few years back, what “Freedom” does--

on a schedule the user determines--

is prevent you from surfing on the World Wide Web.

For however long you choose--up to eight hours--

“Freedom” blocks you from accessing the Internet:

no emails or downloads, no shopping or searches.

(I’m sure some of you are going through withdrawal

just at the thought of it!)

Now, unless you’re being rather sarcastic,

how could you name something “Freedom”

which apparently puts such limits on your…freedom?

“Freedom” was created because,

with the Internet’s nearly endless possibilities,

those who spend a lot of time at their computers

can very easily get pulled in

by countless opportunities for distraction and interruption.

One thing leads to another and another

and, before you know it, hours have gone by…

…and you still haven’t finished

what you sat down to do in the first place.

“Freedom” helps you to set time aside and focus your full attention

on work, or family, or sleep…

…or whatever you do when you’re not online.

There’s a lot of talk about freedom in the air these days--

and not just because tomorrow is the Fourth of July.

That’s because, one week ago,

the New York State Senate passed legislation

allowing same-gender couples to marry.

Many opponents of the measure--the Catholic Church among them--

have decried this attempt to redefine the institution of marriage.

But if we want to see what all the hubbub is about,

I think we’ve first got to take a look back.

We’ve got to look back to a revolution--

not the one started in 1776,

but one incubated during the 1960’s and ’70’s:

the so-called “sexual revolution”--

a revolution which has radically redefined human sexuality…

…and many of us didn’t even notice.

The traditional viewpoint--

which is the Church’s perspective still--

is that sex should only take place in one context--marriage--

and that sex should never be severed

from one of its integral purposes--bringing new life into the world.

The sexual revolution said,

“It’s high time we throw off such restrictive rules

and repressive doctrines.

Relax!  Don’t take things so seriously!

Besides, what could a bunch of old, celibate clergy know?

All they want to do is keep you down,

and make you as miserable as they are.”

So the sexual revolution promoted the idea of “free love,”

making sexual encounters more casual, even recreational.

Use of artificial contraception became widespread,

and soon after abortion became legal--

freeing sex of its natural consequences.

In a world filled with so much suffering,

why not just do something that makes you feel good?

Sex is fun!  Who could get hurt?

What happened?

Today, America’s birth rate is at an all time low.

One out of three of our children is born to an unwed mother.

Only 63% of American kids grow up with both biological parents--

the lowest figure in the Western world.

22% of all U.S. pregnancies now end in abortion;

the figure’s 40% here in New York.

Between 40 and 50% of marriages end in divorce;

that number has gone down slightly…but, of course, it would have to

since fewer and fewer couples are actually getting married

and cohabitation is on the rise.

Seven out of ten of our teens say they’re sexually active

before their nineteenth birthday.

The pornography industry has higher revenues

than Microsoft, Google, Amazon,

eBay, Yahoo, Apple, and Netflix combined.

Is this what we we’re now supposed to consider normal and healthy?

Is this what we call progress?

What the sexual revolution portrayed

as personal decisions and private choices

have proven to have very public, very far-reaching effects.

If this revolution--

which, as recent events make clear, is far from being over--

was supposed to be our liberation,

supposed to cure the modern age’s depression, stress, and loneliness,

then…why are addictions on the rise? 

…why do we need so many therapists and so many medications

to help us feel better about ourselves?

…why do so many people sense

being more isolated than ever?  (cf. M. Selmys)

No, we haven’t exalted sex to new heights;

instead, it’s been devalued to an all-time low.

What God created to be highly prized and treasured

has been sold out and squandered.

As St. Paul addresses in his letter to the Romans:

the human person is a unique and complex blend of flesh and spirit.

The incredible irony, of course,

is that we often find ourselves acting like animals

because we think of ourselves like angels--

as if our body and what we do with it

are of little consequence;

as if only our soul really matters in the end.

That, my friends, is one of Christianity’s oldest heresies.

We’re not truly human without both,

and we live in a less than human way

when our body and soul are not integrated aright.

Our bodies are not playthings…

…and our souls can be deeply damaged if we misuse the flesh.

That’s why sex matters so much.

Sex--when it’s true--involves both flesh and spirit

and is invested by God with the amazing potential

to bring about new life on both accounts.

Critics will loudly say that the Church

should keep its nose out of people’s bedrooms--

and out of politics, too.

Such comments betray a very reduced view of religion--

one not unexpected in a secular age.

But religion is not a way of looking at only certain things;

it’s a certain way of looking at everything.  (cf. R. Segal)

God isn’t interested in just a small portion of your life;

God wants in on it all.

While there are those who would claim

that the Church is a bit preoccupied with sexual issues,

the fact of the matter is that many Catholics--

clergy and laity alike--have been slow to speak up.

We’ve kind of let things slide.

Like the world around us

we, too, have bought into some of the lies.

And if it wasn’t clear enough already:

we can’t afford to do so any longer.

The Church isn’t opposed to love, or freedom, or equality;

the Church is not even opposed to sex.

But the Church is one hundred percent

for understanding these things--and everything--

according to God’s definitions, and not our own.

While the human race is constantly coining

new sound bites and catchphrases,

God’s definitions don’t change--ever.

He’s built them right into the nature of things.

In an age which has somehow convinced itself

that “what’s right for you may not be right for me,”

we dare to claim that there are some absolutes:

things which are true or false, right or wrong, in and of themselves…

…and not just based on personal opinion or majority rule.

We who follow Jesus must recall--before all else--

that the words and example of Christ

teach us to treat every person with great love

and with great respect for their innate human dignity--

no matter how they choose to live their lives.

Since that dignity has been given them by God, who are we to deny it?

Nonetheless, we can each decide to live beneath that dignity;

we can choose to follow a path

other than the one God has set before us.

While love prevents us, of course,

from attacking anyone with harsh and hateful words,

we have to consider:

does not love also require us to help our neighbor find their way?

Is it ever really loving to withhold the truth? 

Given the sad track record

of society’s “forward” thinking on these matters,

I pray that by taking a loving, compassionate approach,

presenting the truth about sex and marriage

in terms both gentle and strong,

we’ll slowly win people over

to the Church’s supposedly “backward” ways.

I can only hope that folks today

will at least be intrigued enough to give them a try.

They couldn’t possibly make matters any worse.

Freedom--like the app by that name--

does not mean that I am free to do whatever I want.

Our nation was founded on the principle of liberty, not license,

with an awareness that all rights come together with responsibilities.

Ultimately, every right, every freedom,

is granted us not by the Constitution, but by God.

God has given us freedom

that we might freely find our way to him.

To freely choose God and to follow his law--

to live by his Spirit--

is, in fact, to grow in freedom.

But if we choose to disobey, choose to call evil good,

and so abuse our freedom,

then we’re no longer free:

we’re slaves--

slaves to our passions, slaves to falsehood, slaves to sin.

My friends,

it’s high time we start a real revolution!

Let’s start setting people free!

Wearing a Different Hat

I was honored to deliver the Commencement Address at my high school alma mater, Seton Catholic Central, in Plattsburgh, NY, on June 18.  Since I "dressed up" my remarks a bit, I've included a couple of illustrations.  (And what were the chances that the Valedictorian would actually begin her address with the advice, "Life's tough; get a helmet"???)

My dear graduates:

Nineteen years ago—

which, I hate to acknowledge,

was before most (if not all) of you were born—

at just the third Commencement Exercises of Seton Catholic Central,

I was in your shoes.

Or maybe I’d better say, I was wearing your hat:

the time-honored (but rather funny looking)

mortarboard of the graduate.

It was a powerful (if awkward) symbol of academic achievement—

of all that I had accomplished during four years of high school;

a reminder of good times with close friends,

of cheering at big games and learning to drive,

of junior prom and secret senior parties.  (Please don’t tell my parents!)

That hat was an emblem of my diploma…and also of growing up.

As you can see,

I’ve traded in one strange looking hat for another.

This one—the biretta of the priest—

though rarely worn these days,

is likewise filled with meaning for me.

During my eight years of seminary study,

and the nearly eleven years since my ordination to the priesthood,

I earned three degrees in philosophy and theology;

I spent five years studying in the shadow of the Vatican;

I had the opportunity to visit more than a dozen countries;

I was assigned to fourteen different North Country parishes;

I’ve been privileged to share some of the most joyful

and the most heartbreaking moments in people’s lives;

I’ve served under three bishops

and have personally met two popes—

all of that building upon the intellectual and spiritual foundation

which Seton Catholic had helped me to develop;

all of that (and so much more)

tucked proudly under this funny black pompom.

While my priestly résumé may be somewhat intriguing,

it is admittedly rather predictable, potentially pretentious,

and dangerously prone to becoming absolutely boring!

So there’s another piece of headgear

that I’d like to recommend to you today…

As a member of the last freshman class

to enter the former Mount Assumption Institute and St. John’s Academy,

I admittedly have a residual bias toward blue…

…but I brought along both school colors, lest I upset or offend.

Helmets.

It all started innocently enough,

when some friends asked me to go out snowmobiling

back in March of 2009.

Just about a month later,

at the invitation of the neighboring Presbyterian pastor,

I was whitewater rafting down the Moose River—

shooting rapids with menacing names

like “Mixmaster” and “Elevator Shaft.”

Late May found me riding on the back of a motorcycle

after “blessing the bikes” at an annual biker rally.

That was three months, three helmets.

I wondered: Could I do this for an entire year—

a different helmet-wearing activity every month?

The challenge was on!

I next went rappelling off a fifty-foot cliff.

I then went mountain biking and horseback riding.

I drove a genuine racecar on the open road

and tore through a giant mud hole on a four-wheeler.

I spent a day logging in the Catskills

and an afternoon downhill skiing in the Adirondacks.

I took a motor scooter around Vatican City

and a bobsled half-a-mile down an Olympic run.

It was a year of thrills—praise God, without any major spills.

And I have the pictures to prove it all!

I had a blast doing all of this…

…probably because the only person

to whom I was trying to prove anything was myself

(although many of my friends enjoyed the monthly email updates).

And while my “Year of Helmets” is now well behind me,

I haven’t quite gotten over it.

True confession:

I spent last Sunday not in church,

but rafting the rapids of the spectacular Hudson River Gorge.

I share this crazy tale with you today, dear graduates,

not as devious encouragement

to make your mothers as nervous as I made my own,

but because these twelve helmets

brought some important lessons home to me

in ways that high school and college,

seminary and ministry, had not been able to do.

(1) Take risks.

Some of these helmet-requiring feats

were certainly more dangerous than others,

but all of them caused me

to stretch beyond my usual comfort zone—even if just a bit.

Continually push your limits—

whether in the classroom, in the military, in the workplace…

…and, yes, during some much needed playtime, too.

Take some risks, and you’ll find yourself

doing things you never thought possible.

Yes, you’ll stumble and tumble on occasion—

that’s why helmets were invented, of course—

but there’s some mighty fine scenery even on a detour.

Be safe—carefree, but not careless.

And remember that, while you can set your sights too low,

you can’t possibly aim too high.

In fact, for those who claim to follow Jesus Christ,

who have any hope of heaven,

it’s our duty to not merely shoot for the moon,

but even far beyond the stars.

(2) Have fun.

Those twelve helmets reminded me

to never surrender my sense of adventure.

Planet earth already has plenty

of overly serious, sour-faced citizens.

Now, having fun doesn’t mean being lazy or irresponsible.

Nor ought it come at the cost of another’s wellbeing.

But recall that the “pursuit of happiness”

was intended to be one of the building blocks of America.

Even more:

Happiness was God’s original plan for the human race.

So smile, and laugh—a lot.

If your heart finds real joy

in whatever path you choose to follow,

in whatever hat you’re wearing,

then that’s a pretty sure sign

that you’re on the right track,

that you’ve found your true calling,

for joy—it’s been wisely said—

is the infallible sign of the presence of God.  (cf. Leon Bloy)

Not to mention that having fun and being happy

will make folks quite suspicious about what you’re up to.

(3) Get real.

In a video documentary

which recently got my helmet-loving juices flowing again,

I heard an extreme whitewater kayaker say of his sport:

“This isn’t a video game.  It’s real.”  (cf. WildWater, Forge Motion Pictures)

In an age and in a culture where it keeps getting easier

to be pulled in by a “virtual” world filled with cheap imitations,

choose instead to get out in the real world and to live a real life.

Read texts that don’t only appear on the screen of your cell phone.

Put down that iPod and instead make some music.

Build social networks that exist outside of Facebook.

With one exception, all of my helmeted adventures

took place right in my own backyard.

So don’t wait for things to happen

in some other time or some other place.

Live fully in this present moment.

After all, when God revealed his name to Moses,

it wasn’t “I was” or “I will be,” but “I AM.”

Which means God is to be found in the here and now,

and there’s nothing more real than God.

Keep it real by avoiding the artificial, by shunning all substitutes,

and by following the advice of that ancient Latin proverb:

Carpe diem—“Seize the day.”

Or, as I like to reimagine it:

Carpe galeam—“Seize the helmet.”

Yes, a graduate sees the world differently

when looking out from under a mortarboard.

A priest, too, sees the world differently

when looking out from under his biretta.

And crazy as it sounds,

I certainly see the world differently

for having dared to look out so often

from underneath a helmet.

Whatever you may choose to wear on your head,

I encourage you:

take healthy risks, have some honest fun,

and always keep it real.

Congratulations, Class of 2011!