Second Chance

That's it: I'm getting a tent.

It's a new month, so it was time to go camping again.  Both the schedule and the forecast were on my side this week, and the bugs hadn't quite come out yet, so I decided to take advantage of the opportunity.  I even had a camping companion lined up!  There were two possible destinations in mind...but something kept pushing me to go back to "the scene of the crime," so to speak: to return to the St. Regis Canoe Area, where I'd had such an eventful overnight just a month ago.  There were a couple of other lean-tos on another pond I wanted to check out--and, of course, the conditions would be VERY different.  So a plan was hatched for Wednesday-Thursday....  But on Tuesday, a freak work injury pulled my buddy out of the picture.  I'd be going alone again.

I headed out late Wednesday afternoon under gloriously sunny skies.  The Fish Pond Truck Trail (Fish Pond being my intended destination) was a whole different experience without the ice and snow I endured at the beginning of April...

...although there were a few stubborn remnants.

There were even some new and rather encouraging trail markers since my last visit.

I was watching the time compared to landmarks from my last visit to these woods, and realized I was moving at about triple the speed.  Finding shelter before dark would be no problem, I thought.

I arrived at the edge of Fish Pond (4.5 miles in) at about 6:15pm, only to discover that the first lean-to was occupied.  Les and Mark (if I remember their names correctly) were there fishing for a few days with another buddy, who was out trying to catch some dinner.  They were friendly enough to offer me a seat, but not hospitable enough to offer to offer me a cold beer (see above) or a place to stay the night.  They also informed me that the lean-to across the pond was occupied, too, for the night.  Busy place!

There's only one other lean-to in the entire St. Regis Canoe Area--the one I'd visited a month before.  Having not brought any shelter of my own, I turned around and really hoped there would be some room in that inn.  Another 2+ miles brought me to the western end of St. Regis Pond.

That's where the trail ended.  Literally.  The lean-to on St. Regis Pond is intended for canoe access.  In early April, I had the winter-enhanced ability to walk (or, rather, ski) on water...but without a canoe of my own at this point, my only option was to bushwhack my way there...and keep hoping I'd find available accommodations.  At this time, I'd like to thank the deer of the region for developing and maintaining such an extensive network of herd paths in the area.  They were a big help!

I kept myself moving parallel to the shore, making my way around swamps and over knolls.  And then I saw it: the sure sign that'd I'd arrived:

You could call it a "privy"...but it's not exactly private.  You could call it an "outhouse," but it's all out and no house.  Whatever name you use, I was quite glad to see it, even though not in any urgent need of it's designated purpose.  Just down the hill from here is the St. Regis Pond lean-to...and it was empty.

After about 8 miles (2 1/2 hours) of hiking, I arrived at 7:30pm.  It was a beautiful evening.

Dinner was enhanced by the warmth and glow of a nice fire...

...and the whole night, really, was accompanied by the laughing of the loons.

The next morning began with Mass...

...which was followed by breakfast.  (When I go alone, I get to eat with my spork right out of the pot.)

I spent a relaxed morning, reading and enjoying my waterfront real estate.

After lunch, I headed back up "Privy Hill" to begin my bushwhack back to the outlet of St. Regis Pond.  Not yet content with this level of adventure, however, I continued to bushwhack to the canoe carry from St. Regis Pond...

...to Ochre Pond.

Some believe Ochre Pond's shores are marked in spots by old growth forest (places that have never been logged--unlike much of the Adirondacks), but I didn't get to explore those woods for myself when I came up against a stream a bit too wide and too deep to be crossed.  (I wasn't at all ready to hike out with soggy boots!)  Plans changed (yet again!), and I bushwhacked (by a different, less friendly to humans route) back to the St. Regis Pond outlet.  2.5 miles on the Truck Trail rounded out about a 5 mile roundabout journey from the lean-to to the car.

I have little doubt the Lord wanted to get me alone on this adventure to finish what he started when I came out here in April.  On so many levels, although far different from what I had planned, it was a very healing revisit to these woods.

Third

There are lots of "neat" and "nice" videos that make their way to you from across the Internet...but every once in awhile one finds you that is truly exceptional and just about takes your breath away.  This is one of them.  When two completely unrelated priests send me separate recommendations on this two days in a row, I figured I'd better take a look.  So glad that I did.  The Third Way is about same sex attraction, and it's quite honest, so this may not be for everyone and probably shouldn't be watched with young children nearby.  It's more than a half an hour long, so you might have to hit play/pause a few times to restart it...but it's well worth the time and effort.  Watch it.

 

Looking Up

It's kind of ironic to watch a video on a small glowing screen that's telling you how you ought to look up from that small glowing screen...but this is really great:

Get It

   Third Sunday of Easter   A 

Readings

Two or three times a week,

Fr. Tom and I are able to have breakfast together. 

(For some reason, it always seems more likely to happen

when I’m making pancakes than when I making oatmeal…)

When we have breakfast together,

we almost always look through the funnies in the newspaper.

The best ones get cut out a put up on our fridge.

Every once in awhile, we come across one that’s not funny.

You can read all of the words, and the sentences make sense,

and you recognize what’s going on in the pictures,

but it just doesn’t click.

You don’t get the joke.

This is particularly frustrating

when there’s a comic I find funny, but Fr Tom doesn’t get.

Of course, if you have to explain it,

then it definitely isn’t going to be funny!
You’ve got all the pieces,

but you can’t see where they’re going.

What’s missing is the big picture, the pattern,

how all the parts fit together.  (cf. R. Barron)

Likewise, yesterday morning we had our First Communion retreat

for all those boys and girls who will be receiving the sacrament today.

And as I’ve done with the First Communion class

wherever I’ve been assigned for eight years now,

I baked bread with them.

Picture it: 32 sets of 7- or 8-year-old hands

covered with sticky dough!

As we started, the kids could only see raw ingredients:

flour, water, yeast.

They had a hard time making the connection:

how these things could become a loaf of fresh bread.

Again, what was missing was the big picture, the pattern,

how all the parts fit together.

Isn’t that what we see happening

in the gospel story we’ve just heard?

Two disciples are walking away from Jerusalem

on that first Easter day.

All their lives, they’d read the scriptures, listened to their elders,

and known the promise of a Savior, a Messiah.

They’d witnessed Jesus’ miracles

and heard his preaching in the countryside.

They’d seen him welcomed and popular a week before on Palm Sunday.

They’d now also seen him betrayed and rejected,

convicted and crucified.

On this, the third day since,

they’ve even heard talk that he’s been raised from the dead.

But they’re leaving town disappointed and discouraged.

Why?  Because they don’t get it!  It hasn’t clicked for them!

They’ve got all the pieces, but can’t make them connect.

What’s missing is the big picture, the pattern,

how all the parts fit together.

Isn’t that often the story of our lives of faith, too?

We’ve read the Bible—or at least heard many of its stories.

We’ve come to Mass and received the sacraments.

We’ve gone to catechism classes and passed (most of us, anyway).

We try to follow the rules—as best we know them and as best we can.

But it takes something more than completing such a checklist.

All those pieces have to fit together.

We need to see the big picture.
and the big picture is a person—the big picture is Jesus:

Jesus, truly risen from the dead;

Jesus, just as he appeared to those two disciples heading to Emmaus;

Jesus, not far away in heaven, but walking hidden right at our side;

Jesus, in the breaking of the bread—

present here, “Body, Blood, soul, and divinity” in the Eucharist

Jesus, who is real for us,

and really a part—the central part—of our lives.

More than a year ago,

our Bishop set out to get a look at the “big picture.”

He called together a committee.

He met with priests and lay people across the Diocese of Ogdensburg.

He prayed.

And he listened.

He wanted to make sure we’re on the right track.

He wanted to find better ways to help people “get it.”

And just before Easter,

based upon all this hard work,

Bishop LaValley announced three priorities and six goals

which he’s hoping will help make things click

for Catholics in the North Country—

ways that will help more people get to know Jesus for themselves

and so see the big picture.

They all fit together pretty well,

if you stop to give them some thought.

The first priority: Vocations.

You don’t need me to tell you

that we don’t have as many priests as we used to.

The same is true with our religious sisters.

It’s actually true these days with married couples, too.

We’re loosing a sense that every single one of us is called by God,

and not just a select few.

We all have something to contribute,

we all an essential role to play.

And so Bishop has set two goals:

(1) to set up an effective vocation awareness plan
for use in our parishes;

(2) to hold a diocesan vocations summit,

gathering the faithful—especially our young people—

to think, talk, and pray about their calling.

A second priority: Building up our parishes.

We may not have as many priests as we used to,

but we also don’t have as many people in the pews, either.

You can’t expect to have one without the other.

Who is missing?  And why aren’t they here?

Instead of doing things the way we “always” have,

how can we best provide for people’s spiritual needs today?

With that in mind, Bishop has set two more goals:

(1) to establish a new planning committee for the diocese,

to set us on the right course for the future;

(2) to take up a diocesan-wide census,

during which a Catholic parishioner will visit every single house

in our 12,000 square mile diocese.

We need to know who’s out there! 

And we can’t just sit here and hope they’ll come to us on their own.

A third priority: Handing on the faith to our youth,
especially in the context of family life.

Vocations come from strong parishes;

parishes are built up from strong families.

If our families aren’t faith-filled,

then how can we expect the rest of this to function as it should?

And so Bishop set two final goals:

(1) to establish strong youth ministry

in key locations across the diocese;

(2) to provide family catechesis for all 7 sacraments.

With faith as with anything else in life,

we don’t stop learning when we’re kids.

And how can parents give their children

what they don’t have for themselves?

Bishop LaValley has spelled all of this out in more detail

in a Pastoral Letter to the people of the diocese.

He has sent a copy for each of your families.

If you didn’t get one on the way in to church this morning,

then be sure to get one on the way out.

But please: only one per household 

so that there’s enough to go around.

Take the time to read it carefully.

Even take some time to pray about it.

These priorities and goals will be guiding the life and work

of every parish in the diocese for some years to come.

They come, of course, at a great time for us here in Malone

as St. André’s Parish is about to be born.

Unlike the bread I baked with the kids yesterday morning,

there’s no clear, simple recipe for “cooking up” the Church.

And what’s at stake is much more

than a good laugh at the comics page.

Our goal isn’t to be funny over breakfast;

it’s to bring people to know Jesus Christ in his Church—

in particular, to help them discover the Lord present here

in the Holy Eucharist, in the breaking of the bread—

and so to get to heaven!

But while that goal is very serious,

it’s one which ought to fill us with the most contagious joy.

If you’ve really met Jesus, risen from the dead;

if you can really see what his plan is and where it’s going;

if the Catholic faith has clicked for you;

if you get it and it’s changing your life—

how could that not make you happy?!?

And how could you ever keep it to yourself?!?

It’s this “joy of the gospel,” as Pope Francis keeps reminding us,

which has the power to change the world.

It’s the same joy which sent Peter and the other Apostles out

in the Church’s earliest days.

It’s the joy which should fill every home, every parish,

and every heart in the Diocese of Ogdensburg.

It’s the joy Jesus wants to share with you and me

today and every day.

We’ve got all the necessary pieces

to accomplish the mission Christ has left us
as Catholics here in the North Country.
Let's ask the Lord to bless our efforts
to give life to thee priorities and goals.

Let’s ask the Lord to make our faith click.

  

Twice Wet

Two Thursdays, two adventures...both of them a little soggy.

Today, I needed to take a walk, so I hiked a 7+ mile roundtrip to the "Sheep Meadow" (where there aren't any sheep, and there's hardly any meadow), near to where I camped back in February.  These photos will make it look like a fairly decent spring day...but it actually rained 2/3 of the way in, and the trail was rather wet in a few spots.  No worries: it was still great to be out, and there aren't any bugs yet!  The two lean-tos were in great shape (and a much appreciated dry spot for my late lunch), and the other building is a horse shed (it's an equestrian trail, for those so inclined).

Now, last Thursday was all about getting wet.  Fr. Stitt and I went whitewater rafting through the Hudson River Gorge with ARO.  It was a blast!  The water was significant higher than when I'd rafted the same stretch of river a few years ago...but significantly lower than just a week before when there was a massive rush of snowmelt, as our guide vividly described for us.  We had a blast!

Saints

   Second Sunday of Easter - Divine Mercy   A 

Readings

For the honor of the Blessed Trinity,

the exaltation of the Catholic faith

and the increase of the Christian life,

by the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ,

and of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and our own,

after due deliberation and frequent prayer for divine assistance,

and having sought the counsel of many of our brother Bishops,

we declare and define Blessed John XXIII and John Paul II

to be Saints and we enroll them among the Saints,

decreeing that they are to be venerated as such by the whole Church.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

With those lofty words, 

just a few hours ago in Rome,

Pope Francis, gathered with
about a half-million Catholic pilgrims,

gave the Church and the world two new saints.

These are not saints who are unfamiliar to us,

but men who are remembered 

by many here this morning.
I’m too young to personally recall 

Pope John XXIII,

but I vividly remember Pope John Paul II.

In fact, as the ways of Divine Providence 

would have it,

I had the privilege of meeting 

Pope John Paul on a few occasions,

and he did me the great honor 

of being the first to use my chalice—

the chalice with which I offer Mass this morning.

These two popes, these two saints,

have left notable marks on the Church.

Pope John called the Second Vatican Council;

although he didn’t live long enough to see it through,

he did initiate this visionary project of renewal.

And Pope John Paul—who had been a bishop at Vatican II—

was the great interpreter of that Council,

leaving us more than 70,000 published pages

that will be studied for quite some time to come.

Now-Saint John Paul II left his mark on me, too,

but it wasn’t so much through any of those many volumes

of his wise and learned teaching.

On March 19—St. Joseph’s Day—1998,

I was asked to serve Mass for the Holy Father in St. Peter’s Basilica.

I would be the Pope’s official hand-washer during the ceremony.

(If he needed water and a towel, I was his man!)

This was a special day:

the Pope was about to ordain

three of his closest collaborators as Bishops.

Eventually, the Pope shuffled along with his cane
into the small, hidden room which served as a sacristy.

Even though it had already begun to droop

and lose some its expression, his face positively lit up

when he saw his three coworkers awaiting him there.

There were smiles, hugs, laughter.

And then it was time to prepare for Mass.

I was brought forward to wash the Pope’s shaking hands.
(His weren't the only hands that shook!)

Next, the Holy Father was to put on his priestly vestments.

He was unable to do so by himself anymore.

I was so struck by how the Pope 
simply held out his arms in the figure of a Cross

and allowed others to dress him.

Before me stood a man

who was the spiritual leader of about a billion Catholics,

also admired by men and women of other faiths or no faith at all,

arguably one of the most recognized and powerful people on the planet, 

who in the weakness of illness and old age

had to allow others to change his clothes.

The combination of both moral greatness and utter humility

in that very simple but profound gesture—
something of the divine shining through the utterly human—

taught me more about real and living holiness

than any book he ever wrote or talk he ever gave.

As the Apostle Thomas makes clear in this Sunday’s gospel,

sometimes words just aren’t enough to satisfy the human spirit.

As people of flesh and blood and heart,

we are more than our minds—

and so it’s only natural that we seek after more

than just stimulating our intellect:

we desire action and personal experience;

we want to see and feel things for ourselves.

I often think that Thomas’ nickname—Didymus, “Twin”—

points to just how much we all have in common with him.

Maybe it was Thomas’ initial pangs of doubt

that inspired the first Christians to live in the way

which we hear described in the Acts of the Apostles.

Yes, we hear that they devoted themselves 

to the Apostles’ teaching.

But in addition, we hear that

the devout way in which the prayed,

the joyous way in which they shared their common life,

and the loving way in which they took care of one another’s needs

caused everybody around them to look on with awe.

They weren’t just well-studied and well-spoken 
in what they believed,

but they lived out that faith,

which made them stand out from other people.

They lived in a manner that wouldn’t make any sense

if Jesus Christ hadn’t been raised from the dead.

Their actions spoke even louder than their words ever could.

What spoke so loudly then still speaks so loudly now.

Pope Paul VI—who reigned between our two new saints—

once wrote:

            For the Church, the first means of evangelization

            is the witness of an authentically Christian life….

            Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers,

            and if he does listen to teachers,

            it is because they are witnesses.…

            It is therefore primarily by her conduct and by her life

            that the Church will evangelize the world,
            in other words, by her living witness of fidelity to the Lord Jesus—

            the witness of poverty and detachment,

            of freedom in the face of the powers of this world,

            in short, the witness of holiness.  (Evangelii nuntiandi, 41)

Saints are followers of Jesus

who make it to heaven to live with God forever.

Some saints have a capital “S”:

those who—like Pope John and Pope John Paul—

are formally recognized as such.

But it’s vital that we remember

there are countless more saints down through the ages

who won’t be given their own feast days

or have churches named after them.

Saints—as today’s canonization reminds us—are what it’s all about.

The Church exists for one purpose only:

to produce saints;

to make us holy now, and to get us to heaven forever.

Yes, we are all called to be saints—

not just a few of us, but all of us!

To give flesh and blood, to give a living face, to the risen Jesus—

both great and humble, wounded yet glorious!

With two new models of holiness for us to imitate,

let’s be the witnesses that our times so desperately want and need—

not just talking about Divine Mercy but showing it,

that the world might see and touch it’s Lord and God today.

Redeemed

   Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord   

Readings

Back when I was Fr. Tom’s age—

(for some reason I love saying that!)—

I was assigned down in Lowville.

One summer,

a Canadian priest came from Ottawa

to help us out for awhile.

I clearly recall how Fr. Mark

returned from a bike ride one day

and started asking me questions

about one of the other churches in town.

“It’s out past the grocery store,” he said,

“on the opposite side, right before you go up the hill.”

I knew the spot he was talking about,

but told him I was quite sure

there wasn’t a church anywhere nearby.

And yet he insisted.

So the next time we were driving in that direction,

I asked Fr. Mark to point it out.

“There it is!” he said,

indicating a rather nondescript brown building

which sat a little bit off the road.

And atop the somewhat shabby structure

was a sign that was the source of all the confusion;

it read: Family Redemption Center.
I guess they don't have those in Ontario...

What Fr. Mark found, of course, wasn’t a church at all—

but it has a whole lot more in common with one

than you might at first think!

God the Father sent his Son on a mission—

one with which we North Country folks

are quite familiar in the springtime of the year:

he sent him to walk along the world’s sidewalks and roadways

and to pick up the trash.

After the long winter,

a lot of litter had accumulated:

among the other debris

from the earthly paradise he had created

were people,

tossed aside like any other used up commodity—

human lives wallowing in the ditches of sin

and the depths of the grave.

God knew there would be great reward

in this clean up effort:

not only would it help toward making the place

look more like he originally intended,

but some of that junk was actually worth something:

what had been cast off as rubbish

turns out to actually have enormous value.

And so Jesus goes down into the mud and the muck

because he sees something worth saving down there…

…which is when he effects a most marvelous exchange.

When we bring in empty bottles and cans,

we do so expecting to get paid.

For most of us, that’s “redemption.”

But in it’s original sense,

“to redeem” doesn’t mean to collect your deposit

or get something for practically nothing;

rather, “to redeem” means “to buy back.”

You see, first Jesus picks us up, brings us in, 
and then he pays—and not a measly nickel, either!

St. Peter puts it this way:

            Realize that you were delivered

            from your futile way of life…

            not by any diminishable sum of silver or gold,

            but by Christ’s blood beyond all price:

            the blood of a spotless, unblemished lamb…

            It is through him that you are believers in God,

            the God who raised him from the dead (1 Pt 1:18-21).

The all-pure Son of God gets his hands dirty

that we, in our grime, might be made clean.

Jesus assumes the human condition in all its dysfunction—

going all the way down, so to speak—

that he can then raise us all the way up.

Sin and death are thus traded in

for new and everlasting life.

By his Cross and Resurrection,

Christ has bought us back for God.

As we sang out last night

in the beautiful words of the Easter Proclamation:

            Our birth would have been no gain,

            had we not been redeemed.

            O wonder of your humble care for us!

            O love, O charity beyond all telling,

            to ransom a slave you gave away your Son!

On the day of our baptism—

when each one of us was immersed visibly in water

but invisibly into the Paschal Mystery—

we were marked in a quite permanent way,

not with a stamp that reads, “NY 5¢,”

but with a seal which says, “Absolutely Priceless!”

Do we live each day as men and women

of immense dignity and eternal destiny?

Do we find constant joy in this completely unmerited redemption?

Does this Easter faith direct how we treat one another?

Do we help our neighbors to see their own real value?

Because it is for this that Christ died,

for this that Christ rose,

for this that Christ established his Church—

his great “Redemption Center.”

Christ is risen from the dead!

His Cross and Resurrection have redeemed us

and revealed our true worth.

Let us ever live and rejoice in this faith.

Happy Easter!