Rules

After Mass today a local judge told me that a local lawyer used to have a license plate which read, "LOOPHOLE"...

   Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time   A  

Readings

The kids were lined up for lunch at the local Catholic school.

At the head of the serving table was a large bowl of apples.

After watching the bowl carefully for awhile,

Sr. Mary Matilda wrote a note

and posted it by the apples:

Take only ONE.  God is watching!

The children kept moving down the line,

and at the other end of the table

found a large tray of chocolate chip cookies.

Looking at that tray,

one of the boys quickly wrote a note

and posted it next to the cookies:

Take all you want.  God is watching the apples.

He’s a different kind of religious leader, they say.

He smiles a lot and he’s very kind.

He has such compassion for the poor.

He’s so gentle with the sick.

Have you seen how he embraces little children?

He’s always talking about God’s mercy 

and about forgiveness.

He keeps reaching out to those on the margins—

even to those who aren’t religious at all.

If I were to now add:

And he made the front cover of Rolling Stone,

you’d guess I was speaking about Pope Francis.

But the above could easily have been said about Jesus—

and probably was;

it’s exactly the sort of thing which might have prompted

Jesus’ teaching on the law in this Sunday’s Gospel.

Why?  Because it’s the sort of thinking

which would have let a whole bunch of people 

write him off much too easily.

We have an awfully complicated relationship with rules.

That goes all the way back to Adam and Eve.

God gave them just one…and they still blew it.

And ever since,

we’ve been working hard to find ways around them.
Whether it’s our parents or the police,

Sr. Mary Matilda or God himself,
we keep hoping we might get away with something—

whether big or small:

to break the rules, and not get caught.

Oh, if we could only heal our relationship with the law!

Get out on the open road,

and we chafe at having to obey the speed limit…

…but imagine how dangerous the roads would be

without any traffic laws at all.

It’s safe to say that very few people

enjoy learning all the rules of spelling and grammar…

…but it would be nearly impossible

to communicate effectively without them.

(Of course, texting and Twitter

are already giving us a taste of that…)

And there would be no sports at all—

leave alone the Olympics we’re all enjoying—

if it weren’t for the regulations.

We’ve got this mistaken sense—

borne of that original sin, of course—

that laws are made to prevent us from having any fun,

to prevent us from having a full and fruitful life…

…when quite the opposite is the case:

law is there to make life and joy possible

and—in the case of God’s law—

to make eternal life and joy possible for us.

What if we decided to look at the law

not as a burden, but as a gift?

What if we chose to approach it as something set in place

not to keep us down, but to lift us up?

You see, that’s precisely God’s perspective on the matter!

The Lord’s not watching over our shoulders like a petty tyrant

bent on dictating  what to do or not to do.

Instead, God has given us sure standards

for becoming who we ought to be—

for becoming the men and women he created us to be.

God has done so because he loves us—

loves us absolutely.

And there’s nobody more qualified to show us the way!

It’s been a year already since Pope Benedict announced his resignation,

and the world’s still clearly in its honeymoon phase

with his successor, Pope Francis.

But listen carefully to what the Pope has to say—

and not only to all the superficial reports about him

in the popular press—

and you’ll realize that he’s not “softening up”

on Church teaching or discipline,

as so many have hastily concluded;

in fact, the Pope’s actually calling us to something more:

to a more intense faith,

and to a more radical way of living it out.

And that’s just what Jesus did, too.

It’s not enough that you avoid killing your brother;

you must also avoid angry thoughts or hurtful words about him.

It’s not enough for you to shun illicit sexual encounters;

lust first takes hold in the eyes, the mind, and the heart—

and that’s where it must be plucked out by the roots.

Don’t be concerned about telling the truth only when you’re under oath;

always give your word and keep it—period.

I haven’t come to abolish the law; I’ve come to fulfill it.

Actor and comedian W. C. Fields 

was by no means a religious man.

Which is why a friend was so surprised

to see him with a Bible shortly before he died.

Asked what he was doing,

Fields replied, “Been lookin’ for loopholes…”

Let’s stop looking for loopholes

in the rules laid down for us by God,

and instead start looking for guidance in living—

guidance with an eternal guarantee.

Let’s obey Gods commands

not begrudgingly, not with heavy hearts,

but with joy—

and let’s teach others to do likewise.

They are, after all, the pathway to life.

Blessed are they

who follow the law of the Lord!

  

Raising Debar

Today's adventure took me to 3305 foot Debar Mountain--not a "high peak," but one of the highest near here (about 20 miles south of Malone).  An 1872 guidebook referred to it as "a savage looking peak."  "Savage" is a pretty strong word, but when I saw it across Clear Pond as I started out from NYS Route 30 at the entrance to Meacham Lake State Campground, I had my concerns about what I was setting out to do...

That's Black Peak in the foreground, Debar standing tall behind.

A 1.25 mile ski took me through the campground to the trailhead.  It's 3.7 miles from there to the summit, with an over 1600 foot gain in elevation--half of it in the last half mile.  More on that later...

The next 1.2 miles of trail where shared with snowmobilers (although I didn't see very many of them), and then it was a left turn deeper into the woods.  I kept the skis on for quite awhile further (probably further than I should have) before switching to snowshoes when the trail started to climb a bit more.

Before the last "big push" (mentioned above), there's an old lean to (some of the graffiti is dated from the mid-1960's) that's pretty rough around the edges, but was a perfect place for a bite and a break.

The lean to would also prove to be my final destination for the day.  It was 2:30pm, a storm was forecast to be rolling in, I still had better than 4 miles back to the car without pushing ahead any further...and I'd promised to make dinner tonight.

I'd gotten a much closer look at Debar, but the summit will have to wait for another day.
 

Same Farm, Different Day

I was out again, but this afternoon it was on snowshoes.  What a beautiful day for a walk in the woods...

In the Field

Making tracks in fresh snow on a parishioner's "farm" today...

 

Salty

To answer the question on everyone's mind: we had pork chops.

   Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time   A  

Readings

Since the days of Advent,

right up to last Sunday’s feast of the Presentation of the Lord,

we’ve been reflecting quite a bit on light…

…so this Sunday, I thought it best for us

to get salty instead.

Last Sunday was the World Day of Prayer for Consecrated Life,

so last Saturday night Fr. Tom and I hosted

the Ursuline Sisters and the Grey Nuns for dinner.

It was a delightful evening.

But it’s always a challenge

when you have Sr. Rita Frances over for a meal:

she’s rather allergic to garlic…

…and garlic is in a lot more things than you ever stop to realize.

But even when you’ve certified that all the food is 100% garlic-free,

there’s another issue Sister must face:

following surgery a few years back,

she lost nearly all of her sense of taste.

Being a bit of a “foodie,”

I can’t begin to imagine what a heavy cross that would be!

You keep eating, of course, because you still get hungry

and you need to fuel your body,

and you chew every bite to get it down,

but without any of the usual delight that flavor brings.

Which is precisely why Sr. Rita Frances

was giddy as a schoolgirl last Saturday night:

for some reason, she could taste everything that I brought to the table.

It was like I’d sprinkled it with pixie dust or something.

She practically floated out the door—so happy was she—

when dinner was over,

and was still talking glowingly about the meal on Friday.

“You are the salt of the earth,” says Jesus.

Salt is the most common of seasonings.

There’s hardly a recipe in which salt does not show up.

It’s a rather ordinary part of our daily lives.

Jesus is telling us that we Christians need to be everywhere,

that our faith needs to be brought to bear on every aspect of life.

Not something reserved for special occasions,

our relationship with him must be a part of everyday living.

Like salt, we should get into everything,

so that Jesus can get into everything.

As a seasoning, salt doesn’t exist for it’s own sake.

Salt is used to enhance other flavors.

(No one sits down to eat a plate of it alone, after all.)

When used properly, salt is a humble seasoning:

not drawing attention to itself,

but highlighting flavors which are already there—

bringing out the best in whatever it touches.

Likewise, Jesus is telling us that we Christians

don’t manufacture God’s presence or grace;

our mission is to make them more evident—

not working for our own sakes but for those of others,

and not—like salt—drawing the attention to ourselves.

Salt isn’t only used to season food;

it’s also used to preserve it.

In an age before refrigeration, especially in a hot climate,

uncured meat would go bad rather quickly.

In a world filled with corrupting powers,

we need spiritual preservatives, too,

to prevent souls from being spoiled.

Jesus is telling us that salty Christians, sprinkled all around,

must have that saving effect.

And while salt is used to season,

it’s not like herbs and spices which are blended in

merely for our pleasure or amusement.

Salt is an essential nutrient for life—necessary and indispensible.

Jesus is telling us that the world would be in rather tough shape

if we weren’t in the mix making his presence known.

Is it possible to add too much salt?

Of course. 

And when salt is overdone,

it not only ruins the taste of things

but is also bad for your health.

Yet on a spiritual level,

the greater danger is not too much salt, but too little.

Christians who fail to stay salty—

who lose touch with their purpose in the world,

who become untrue to their Christ-given mission—

aren’t good for very much else.

Does your faith give flavor and relish to your life?

Is it the joyful seasoning which enhances everything else?

A healthy preservative from temptation and sin?

An essential nutrient you can’t live without?

Because if the salt of faith has gone flat for you,

then it’s going to be hard to go out

and be salty for others.

We live in a world that has lost much of its sense of taste.

Many folks keep trying to tickle their taste buds…

…but end up swallowing all the wrong things.

In an otherwise dull, even bitter, existence,

the world around us desperately needs Christians

filled with zest and joy, with zeal and enthusiasm.

Let Jesus season your life—all of it—

and then go:

be the salt of the earth.

  

Getting Out

This blog got off the ground by my recounting a very special string of adventures in 2009-2010: my "Year of Helmets."  Ever since completing that personal challenge--to take part in a different helmet-requiring activity each month for a year--I've been kind of on the lookout for "something else."  While it was all just for fun, and made for a string of pretty sweet photo-ops, I really did grow a good bit by constantly pushing my limits over the course of those 12 months...

So, in the first few days of 2014, I came up with a new quest: to spend one night sleeping outdoors each month for the year.  This particular goal comes out not only from my earlier "Year of Helmets," but from last September's 10-day, 120-mile hike of the Northville-Placid Trail.

And so, this adventure has begun.

On Wednesday-Thursday, January 29-30, Fr. Scott Belina and I spent the night at Marcy Dam, a just over two-mile hike into the Adirondack High Peeks wilderness.  We prepared for weeks, carefully assembled all the necessary gear...and kept a watchful eye on the weather.  The original plan?  "As long as it stays above zero..."  But the forecast kept inching downward and, for some reason, we just got more and more excited by the idea.  We rented a tent which we then set up in a lean-to.  You can't have a campfire in that part of the Adirondacks, but we hot food and drink.  It was about -10° F that night...with strong gusts bringing the windchill far below that (-30° to -40° F, we'd guess).  It was so cold it snowed inside our tent: as soon as our breath hit the tent wall, it turned to ice crystals which would sprinkle down on our sleeping bags.

And we loved it.

"Why?"  That's the question everyone keeps asking when they hear about this.  An honest answer is simply, "Because we can!"  But hopefully a little look at the neighborhood which was our chilly home for the night will help to explain...

That's why!

Of course, beginning this little venture in the company of Fr. Scott has come with the high risk of a serious side effect.  He's been working on becoming an ADK 46er.  For all my hiking around in the mountains, I had never climbed any of the High Peaks.

On Thursday, that changed.  I have now summited two.

I'm not yet sure if I want to commit to becoming a 46er myself.  Overlapping adventures could get a little tricky...but only time will tell.  With a nice dose of fresh snow, we strapped on snowshoes and made our way up both Cascade (4,098 ft, #36) and Porter (4,059 ft, #38) Mountains--a 6.2 mile roundtrip.  It was (surprise!) quite cold on the top--especially above tree line on Cascade's bare peak--but it was incredibly clear and you could see forever.

 

(Somehow the icy beard shot makes my mother a little nervous.)

So, there you have it: a new year, a new string of adventures.  I'll try to keep you posted as they unfold, and hope you enjoy the ride right along with me.

Essential

What?  Were you expecting me to talk about Groundhog's Day?

   The Presentation of the Lord   

Readings

We Catholics have a thing for candles.

They play an important role in our public worship.

Burning candles are required 

any time that Mass is celebrated.

And they play a role, too, in our private devotion.

How we love to light a small votive candle

in the shadowy corner of an old church

before some statue or shrine—

its light an offering right along 

with our uplifted prayers;

its flame lingering there long after we cannot.

Candles, from the Church’s early days,

have been given a deeply sacred significance.

Some saw in the combination 

of wax, wick, and flame

an apt symbol Christ, the Light of the nations:

pure wax, the work of bees,

is an image of his pure Body, born of the Virgin;

the wick, hidden within, an image of his soul;

and the flame, an image of his divine nature,

completely united with the human 

in one divine Person.

Such mystical symbolism brings us to today’s feast.

Forty days after Christmas,

the celebration of the Presentation of the Lord

once marked the end of the Christmas season—

concluding a time of focused meditation

on the mystery of the Incarnation:

that the Word became flesh;

that God became man and dwelt among us;

that heaven’s purifying light is now shining out on the earth.

It’s little wonder that candles came to be blessed on this day.

So intimate is the connection between the two

that one of this feast’s other names is Candlemas.

Candles, of course, originally found their way into churches

for the very same reason they were found anywhere:

to give light in times of darkness.

Before Thomas Edison and his electric light bulb came along,

people depended on candles and such.

They were essential for lengthening short winter days

and driving off the night.

Without them, our ancestors—

or our Amish neighbors, for that matter—

would have done a whole lot more stumbling around in the dark.

But we can easily forget that fact,

since today we have 

a very different relationship with candles.

We burn them not for needed light, 

but because they’re decorative:

coming in various colors, shapes, and sizes.

And candles these days 

are more often than not scented:

you can get a candle 

that smells like almost anything.

Shopping for Fr. Tom’s birthday last October,

I stopped in a candle shop and discovered

that they even make one which smells like bacon.

(Just a whiff and your arteries harden a little!)

What was once a necessity is now a luxury.

What was once absolutely essential

is today something that it’s nice to have…

…but with which we could 

easily enough do without.

I’m afraid that what’s happened with candles

is happening with the Mass, too.

Once upon a time—and, really, not all that long ago—

your average Catholic understood the vital necessity of Sunday Mass;

now, for many, it’s a spiritual luxury.

It used to be commonly understood

that to present yourself before the Lord each week—

to meet him here in the Temple,

where he comes so faithfully to meet his believing people—

is a serious obligation;

today, we squeeze it in between our other commitments…if we can.

Catholics used to take for granted that Sunday Mass is essential

for finding one’s way through this often dark world;

now so many take their chances on stumbling around without it.

What’s your relationship with getting to Mass?  And why?

What difference does that thinking make in your life?

Is the Eucharist a luxury for you—

a nice treat you enjoy as often as you can afford the time—

or is it something which you realize

you can’t really afford to go without?

Is missing church on Sunday more like going without dinner

or just passing on dessert?

Like giving up a night’s sleep

or skipping watching the Super Bowl?

Our attitude makes all the difference

not just in whether on not we come and how often,

but on how we participate while we’re here,

and what we take away.

We may not come—

like Mary and Joseph—

to this Temple each Sunday

with an offering of turtledoves 

to fulfill the dictates of the Law.

And we may not always

solemnly bless and process 

with lighted candles

as we do on this beautiful feast.

But in every Mass,

the King of glory enters in,

the Light from Light 

comes down again from heaven,

to claim not so much this building

but each of our hearts 

as his chosen dwelling.

It’s a standing appointment you don’t want to miss!

Recognize the Eucharist for what it is:

an essential source of light

for finding your way through life.