Homily for the First Sunday of Lent (B)

If I were to ask a causal observer to describe the season of Lent, most people would probably hone in on our giving something up, or on the ashes we received this week, or on the meatless Fridays we keep.

A more informed Catholic observer might speak of Lent as being a preparation for Easter. If they were really good they might relate the forty days of Lent to Jesus’ forty days in the desert, and maybe even be able to address the so-called pillars of Lent: prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

But I think it’s fair to say that very few people make the connection between Lent and Baptism that is so utterly essential to understanding the season.

Theologians and historians tell us that the season of Lent developed as a period of intense preparation for catechumens – those who sought to be baptized into the Church at Easter. And again this year, in our own parish and parishes across the archdiocese and around the world, we have groups of children and adults who have been participating in the RCIA program and will be baptized at the Easter Vigil.

In the next few weeks we will see our catechumens brought before the Archbishop and chosen as God’s Elect. We will assist them through the Scrutinies, share the Creed with them, and teach them the Lord’s Prayer. Finally, at the Easter Vigil we will witness their Baptism and welcome them around the Eucharistic table.

So we see that these weeks of Lent are indeed all about preparing our catechumens for their Baptism at Easter. But theses weeks of Lent are also meant to prepare each of us to renew our Baptismal promises at Easter. The prayer, fasting and almsgiving of Lent are supposed to help us examine our lives in light of the Gospel, and call us back, make us recommit, to our Baptismal vocation.

Our readings on this first Sunday of Lent all address this Baptismal focus of Lent, and they do so through the image of Noah and his ark.


Now, we all know the story of Noah’s ark, and it is a frequent subject of children’s books and toys. But Noah’s story is much more than a childish fairytale. It is a very adult allegory about the terribly destructive consequences of a life of sin.

We should think of the floodwaters that covered the world less as a form of Divine punishment from an angry god, and more as the result of humanity’s sinfulness. Death, destruction, and chaos occur whenever and wherever there is separation from God.

And yet, the real point of the story is that through Noah, God is able to cleanse and renew His creation. God is able to keep safe from the water’s destruction all that was good and faithful in His creation. He makes sure that His creation continues, He “renews the face of the earth” and He establishes His covenant with Noah, with “all ages to come,” with “every living creature” – thus making Noah a kind of New Adam.

In our second reading St. Peter makes quite explicit the connection we are meant to see between the story of Noah and our own Baptisms. St. Peter exlains: “in the days of Noah” eight persons were “saved through water. This prefigures Baptism, which saves you now. It is not a removal of dirt from the body but an appeal to God for a clear conscience.”

By the waters of Baptism, through which we “go into the tomb and die with Christ so that we might also rise with Him,” God defeats all the chaos, and destruction, and death that was within us – that was keeping us from sharing in the Divine life for which we were created.

And Noah’s ark is thus an image of the bark of Peter, the assembly of the Baptized, the Church! Sailing on the turbulent seas of history, we are the new creation, saved by water, through which God intends to renew the face of the earth, and with whom He has made His covenant of love.

Our Gospel reading similarly links Baptism and Noah – though, admittedly, the references are less obvious. In today’s Gospel St. Mark recounts, in his typically spare style, that: “the Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert, and he remained in the desert for forty days.” We get none of the details about Jesus being tempted by Satan that we hear about in Matthew and Luke’s Gospels.


And yet St. Mark gives us what we need, to see the story in the context of Baptism and Noah. We’re given two important clues in Mark’s account: First, today’s passage follows immediately after the story of Jesus’ own Baptism. It is precisely after Jesus has been baptized by John, and heard His Father’s voice call Him ‘the beloved’ that the same Spirit, which hovered like a dove above the waters of Jordan, drives Jesus into the desert. That’s the first detail.

The second is that when Jesus is in the desert, St. Mark says that, “He was among wild beasts.”

Just like Noah, on the ark with two of every kind of wild creature, Jesus is in the desert as the New Adam – the person that will be saved from death precisely so that God can renew all of creation through Him, and make His covenant of love everlasting.

Jesus spends His forty days in the desert meditating on the words He heard resound from Heaven: “you are my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” In the desert, Jesus has His Sonship tested, and He remains faithful to what was revealed to Him in Baptism: His true identity is as God’s beloved Son.


During the season of Lent we too go into the desert and mediate on the mystery of our Baptisms. We recall that we have been called God’s beloved, we examine the ways we have fallen prey to temptation and we confess the ways we have marred the divine image that were created in.

Through prayer, fasting and almsgiving we re-commit ourselves to our Baptismal vocation. We rejoice that we have been made a part of the New Creation, and with the neophytes, the newly Baptized at Easter, we work to fulfill our call to Transfigure, to renew, the face of the earth.

Smile!

I've been in the market for a digital picture frame for the past few months. After much research, I found a Kodak model that seemed to fit my needs quite well.

I first tried to purchase one at the Circuit City close-out, but was turned away because they wouldn't accept the gift card I wanted to use (it was left from ordination, can you believe that!)

Thankfully, Best Buy wasn't so picky. Funny how they're NOT going out of business! And as it turns out, I got it at an even better price. 

The frame is now loaded with pictures and sitting on my desk! I am very pleased to have so many of your smiling faces looking at me while I work!

Russell Street

I can sometimes go days without eating much meat. Don't get me wrong, I love meat and could never be a vegetarian - if God didn't want us to eat those animals He wouldn't have made them so tasty! - but I'm certainly not the biggest carnivore you'll ever meet. Seafood, pasta, and vegetables can keep me going just fine.

But I knew from previous experience that when I can't eat meat, I crave it terribly. Isn't it funny how that works? With the start of Lent, this week has two days of abstinence - so to prepare ourselves in grand fashion, Ken and I enjoyed Monday lunch at the Russell Street Bar-B-Que.  

Opened in 2004, this place has been well received by the North Portland crowd. I've had lots of different people recommend the place to me, but this was my first chance to taste for myself. I always judge a barbecue place by their pulled pork sandwich - maybe not the toughest thing to do well, but it's my favorite, and I definitely know the difference between good and bad pulled pork.

Russell Street didn't disappoint. They have ample seating in a simply but nicely decorated and well-lit dining room. They have an impressive Drinks menu, and a sizable food menu as well. Both the pork itself, and their barbecue sauce were delightful. The Frito Pie (corn chips with chili, onions and cheese) made the perfect appetizer, and the brownie sundae was absolutely spectacular.

My only sadness was the knowledge that I had discovered this place so late in my time here in Portland . . . and I have so many other places to try before July!!!

Homily for Ash Wednesday (B)

Just the other night, I had the pleasure of attending a lecture at the University of Portland, given by one of my former seminary professors. His lecture was part of a series of campus events aimed at preparing for the season of Lent – and all the events centered around the theme of religious icons.

We all know that an icon is an image, a depiction of a divine person or event – either an image of Jesus, or Mary, or one of the saints – or of an event in salvation history, like the birth of Jesus, or the death of a martyr.

Whomever, or whatever, an icon depicts it is meant to reveal Divine truth through beauty. A beautiful icon of Jesus Christ shows us an image of divinity, of the Incarnate Word – it shows us the human face of God. And a beautiful icon of a saint gives us a representation of a person who has been so perfectly transformed by grace that they have become an image of Christ.


My professor made the point that each and every one of us is an icon – a sort of painting, which God Himself has said, He created in His own Divine image. But, we are incomplete. Our icon has not yet been finished or perfected. We are intended to help God bring His act of creation to fulfillment – to finish the picture, so to speak – by the way we live our lives.

When the life we live is one of virtue, grace and charity we fill our image in with a beautiful array of colors and texture. We become a more and more faithful representation of the Divine life: our lives look more and more like the life of Jesus.

But through all sorts of vices and sins, faults and mistakes, we can smear and smudge our image – we can tarnish and erode the beautiful glow of divine life we have been given.

On this first day of Lent we all come forward and receive a smear of ashes, a smudge of dirt upon our brow. With it we admit to ourselves, and confess before God and all who will see us this day, that we have indeed smudged and smeared the beautiful divine image that God so lovingly created us in.

But this smudge is in the form of the Cross –which is the sign and proof of God’s infinite love and mercy. And so even within this smear is contained the hope and promise of the Cross – the means by which God has reconciled us to Himself.

During this holy season of Lent, we strive to “become the righteousness of God,” to become the image, the icon of Divine life that we were created to be. We submit ourselves to the sometimes difficult and painful process of scrubbing our lives clean and starting out fresh.

We don’t seek to torture ourselves through self-sacrifice – we don’t give up good things that we rightfully like and enjoy simply to make ourselves miserable.

We cultivate a life of prayer, we fast from pleasures that can distract, and we increase our giving of alms and charity, because these are the artist’s tools – these are the brushes, and oils, and disciplines by which a virtuous life, a holy life, a divine life are painted and filled in.

Today, we come forward and receive a reminder and admission of the imperfections in our icon. Over the next forty days, with God’s grace, we do the hard work of removing the smudges that mar God’s image in our lives – and, at the same time, we do the hard work of adding layers of color and texture, all in an effort to make our lives the icon of God they were intended to be.

Great Day in New York

Rocco (and the Associated Press) is reporting that tomorrow morning the Holy Father will name Archbishop Timothy Dolan of Milwaukee as the tenth Archbishop of New York, replacing the retiring Cardinal Edward Egan. 

This will (and should) be a source of great rejoicing for the people, and especially the priests of New York. Though I've not yet had the pleasure of meeting Archbishop Dolan, his reputation is simply sterling. I was also very much impressed with a collection of lectures he gave on the priesthood while serving as Rector of the North American College in Rome. 

Stick with Rocco for the best reporting of this unfolding story . . . and if it all comes to pass, say a prayer for New York's new Archbishop!

Capernaum: The Home of Saint Peter

This Sunday's Gospel takes place in Capernaum, a city on the northern shore of the Sea of Galillee. It was the site of Saint Peter's house, which was Jesus' base of operations for His Galilean ministry.

When I was on pilgrimage in Israel in December of 2005, I had the privilege of visiting this shrine with my classmates. There is a modern church there which looks a little like a flying saucer . . . 

. . . suspended over the archeological site of St. Peter's house.

Upstairs, in the church proper, there is a hole cut in the floor so that you can look down . . .

. . . into the remains of the home:

This means that when you are praying in the church, you are in the exact position of the faith-filled friends in the Gospel, who climb onto the roof, cut a hole, and lower their paralytic friend at Jesus' feet.

As you can imagine, this was a particularly moving place for me to pray for all of my family and friends . . . and I thought this Sunday's Gospel gave me the chance to share these pictures, and assurances of my daily prayers for all of you.

Homily for the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Over the past several weeks we have heard accounts from Mark’s Gospels about Jesus’ ministry of preaching, healing, and casting out demons.

Mark recounts that crowds gather to see Jesus, to hear His teaching and to experience the power of His signs. Mark notes that the people realized that Jesus was different than the other teachers and scribes – a few weeks ago the crowds in the Gospel said, “He taught as one with authority, and not as the scribes.”

And yet, the crowds would likely have seen Jesus as another prophet – one like Moses, or Elijah, or even John the Baptist. Their teaching had been powerful like His, and other prophets and healers had on occasion been able to cure the sick and to cast out demons just as Jesus was doing.

But in today’s Gospel something entirely different happens, and it causes the people to remark: “we have never seen anything like this before.” Just what is it that is so different about what Jesus says and does in today’s Gospel?

Mark recounts that Jesus has returned to his home in Capernaum, and a crowd has gathered at Peter’s house. A group of four faith-filled men carry their paralytic friend up to the roof of the house, cut a hole, and lower the man in front of Jesus.


Astonished at their faith, Jesus responds by saying to the man: “Child, your sins are forgiven.”

Now this is indeed different! This is much more than what the man and his friends could have been expecting or asking for. They could certainly have been expecting that Jesus would cure the man’s paralysis, as it was said Jesus had done in the surrounding towns and villages. But to forgive sins? That was not for a human to do; not even a prophet or healer could do that. God alone can forgive sins.

And sure enough, the scribes who had witnessed this begin to say just this to themselves, calling Jesus a blasphemer. Knowing their inner thoughts, Jesus responds by saying: “But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins on earth” – and then He said to the paralytic, “I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” And the man does it!

Jesus not only does the “easier” thing of saying that the man’s sins are forgiven, He does the “harder” thing of healing the man’s paralysis. He does this “that you may know that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins.”

Friends, with this healing Jesus is proving that His words do indeed have effect. When He says ‘rise and walk,’ even paralytics can rise and walk! So when He says that someone’s sins are forgiven, it is not a pious platitude or an empty consolation – their sins are indeed wiped away, because Jesus is the Son of Man; the God who alone has the authority to forgive sins.

This week, as you know, we begin the great season of Lent. It is, of course, the season that asks us to reflect most deeply on the things that paralyze us – the sinful patterns of thoughts and deeds that leave us frozen, unable to move closer to one another or to God.

But we don’t ponder our paralysis, or count our offenses, to dwell on them or become all the more overwhelmed by them. We bring them to mind so that, like the four friends in today’s Gospel, we can lay them at the feet of Jesus, hear Him call us ‘child,’ and have those sins taken away.


In Lent, through our prayer, fasting and works of charity, and especially through the Sacraments – through the Eucharist and the Sacrament of Reconciliation – we hear Jesus say to us, what He said to the paralyzed man in the Gospel: “rise, pick up your mat, and go home.”

“Rise:” We are all brought low under the weight of our own guilt; we are mired, stuck in the frustrating cycle of the same old sins; we are hopeless, only able to see the darkness of the ground.

Jesus’ forgiveness bids us to stand up; to be unbound, set free from the weight of our guilt; to be unstuck from the spiraling pattern of sin; to look up, and see the light of hope.

This part of Jesus’ command is a reference to His Resurrection, which conquers sin forever, and our share in the Resurrection, which will raise us up with Christ to new and eternal life.

“Pick up your mat:” Because we are helpless to solve our own broken condition, every one of us makes use of a mat, a crutch, a mask and or a bandage. They help us get by, but they certainly don’t heal us, and they often weaken some other part of our life, making us dependent on them.

Jesus’ forgiveness goes to the heart of the matter. It heals the underlying wound and makes us a new creation.

This part of Jesus’ command is a sign of the power Jesus has given the man over his formerly helpless condition – the same power over sin and death that Jesus shares with us through grace.

“Go Home:” We are all lost; we’ve made wrong turn after wrong turn; we are constantly wandering from the Father’s house.

Jesus’ forgiveness seeks us out and finds us; straightens our path and shows us the way; it brings us back to the Father, back to the home where we really belong.

This part of Jesus’ command is an invitation to the Heavenly banquet. It’s a summary of Jesus’ entire mission and the fulfillment of our deepest desires and yearnings.

“Your sins are forgiven . . . Rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” How easy all these words are for any human being to say. And yet only from the lips of Jesus do these words actually mean anything at all – only in Him do they accomplish the things they signify and suggest.

Brothers and sisters, pray with me that this Lent we may all have true faith in Jesus’ ability and desire to forgive us and to heal us. Let us carry one another, and allow ourselves to be carried to the feet of Jesus Christ. Let us approach the Lord in prayer, in the Eucharist, in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Let us, “in the sight of everyone,” “rise, pick up our mat” and go home.

A Visit From Mom and Dad

This week I've been away from the parish quite a bit as I hosted my parents for a lovely visit to the Northwest. As always, we had a really wonderful time.

Since this was their third visit to Portland and they've had the chance to see quite a bit of Oregon, we took an overnight trip to Seattle, a city they had never been to before.

Mom and Dad have a history of bringing good weather when they come to visit and this trip was no exception. There was spring-like weather in Seattle and Portland . . . well, let me rephrase that . . . there was DRY spring-like weather!

On Saturday and Sunday we were here in Portland so that I could take the usual compliment of assignments in the parish. We had a Valentine's dinner with Stacey Noem (her Valentine was on a business trip!) on Saturday, and dinner with the Holy Cross community on Sunday.

Then Monday morning we were on the road to Seattle. When we arrived, the weather was so remarkable we went right to the waterfront for lunch at Ivar's and then a ferry ride to Bainbridge Island. I'd never been to the island before and it's quite lovely.

We checked into our hotel on Queen Anne Hill and enjoyed the views of the city from its roof-top patio. Then we drove to Lake Union to enjoy dinner at the Bluwater Bistro.

Later that night we did some window-shopping downtown and hit the sack. We needed our energy for an early morning tour of Pike's Market, including the #1 Starbuck's:

Later that day we enjoyed lunch at Salumi's and then took the Underground Tour. I think it's fair to say that my love of history comes from my parents, and from all the family vacations we took to historical sites throughout the Northeast - so this tour was right up our alley.

Back in Portland on Wednesday, my parents joined me as I celebrated our weekly school Mass. Then we drove up Mt. Hood and enjoyed touring, and lunching, at Timberline Lodge. Somehow my parents had missed this on their previous trips - but that was okay: Wednesday was a picture perfect day to be on the mountain!

Finally, we made a stop at Full Sail Brewery on our way back to town, and then met Ken, Julie and Brenda at The Screen Door for a massive and delicious fried-chicken dinner. I was glad that Mom and Dad had the chance to share an evening with these great folks.

All good things come to an end, and Mom and Dad fly back to Staten Island on Thursday. Since then I've been catching up on voicemail and email and getting ready for the weekend ahead.

If you're thinking that an awful lot of this Seattle trip sounds familiar, you can look back to some posts (here and here) I did back in July when Kevin and Jeanette joined me for a few days in the Emerald City. You'll find links in those posts to all of the restaurants and sites that I first visited with them, and then returned to this week with Mom and Dad.  Hey - if it ain't broke, don't fix it!

Homily for the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Sorry that there won't be a homily this week. The Archdiocese of Portland is having its annual Archbishop's Catholic Appeal and we're playing an audio file from the Archbishop at all of our Masses. So I didn't need to prepare my usual Sunday homily.

Just as a means of encouraging your own prayerful reflection, I'll briefly mention some of my thoughts about this week's Gospel:

St. Mark recounts that a leper kneels before Jesus and says, "if you wish, you can make me clean" - and Jesus, "moved with pity," "stretched out his hand, touched him, and said to him, 'I do will it. Be made clean.'"  

Jesus does will that we be washed clean, healed, restored to community. Whatever the source of our brokenness, illness or exclusion He reaches out and touches us, eradicating any wall or stigma of separation.

And yet the faith of the leper is what makes this possible. His words are not merely a statement of fact - Jesus is indeed capable of making him well - they are an invitation: 'Lord, if you are willing to heal me, I am open to your touch. I will let you work in me as you see fit.'

How often do we say with our thoughts and prayers that we desire for the Lord to heal us and yet say with our actions that we would prefer to continue living as we are? Are we not sometimes closed to the healing Christ wants to give us because we are more comfortable in our sinfulness or brokenness? 

We sometimes prefer to remain as we are, because opening ourselves to the Lord's healing, being welcomed back into communion, might demand something of us we aren't ready to give. Let's pray that we will have the grace to say, and mean, "Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean."

Movie Review: Coraline

After our sake excursion, Ken and I met his lovely bride Julie for a quick bite to eat and then a 3D showing of the new movie, Coraline.

Made by the director of The Nightmare Before Christmas, Coraline is based on a fantastical, dream-like children's story. It's not the type of movie I would normally go to see, or enjoy, but I very much wanted to see Coraline because it was entirely animated and produced here in Portland by a new company founded, in part, by Phil Knight of Nike fame. I have no allegiance to Phil Knight, but I definitely wanted to support this project as it could really be great for Portland's future to have a legitimate animations studio in the area.

That explanation aside, I have to say that was absolutely amazed by this movie!

The animation and special 3D effects were absolutely the most amazing I have ever seen. The style of animation, "stop-motion," is different than the recent offerings from Pixar and I think I like this style better.  And the way the effects were used to develop the plot, as opposed to being merely thrown in for effect, was very pleasing. 

Perhaps most of all, I appreciated that this fantasy story, like fairy tales of old, was really a cautionary tale! Without giving too much of the story away, the main character, Coraline, essentially wishes her life  away imagining all the ways her life could be better. 

But, as you might imagine, she learns that all the things that offer an "alternate reality," and promise her the perfect life she imagines, are really all mirages - or worse, they are traps that ultimately destroy everything she really did love about here life, whatever its imperfections.

Well, make the connections for yourself. This movie could easily be a cautionary tale for children about the abuse of, or addiction to drugs, alcohol, video games, whatever.  And it clearly encourages a spirit of gratitude for the blessings we take for granted until they're taken away.  

When a movie can offer that kind of lesson, entertain, and visually stun all at the same time, it is definitely worth the while.

(You'll need to see the movie to understand the graphic of my name at the top of this post. It refers to a scene from the movie and was created for me by Ken Hallenius on the Coraline web-page which is linked above.)

"Sake It To Me"

On Monday, Ken Hallenius and I made an excursion to SakeOne in Forest Grove, Oregon. SakeOne is the first sakeria, or sake brewery, in all of North America.

I'm not a huge fan of sake, but it is becoming increasingly popular here in the States. The explosion in the popularity of sushi is certainly one of the main reasons for this phenomenon. But sake is not just for Japanese food any more! All kinds of bars and restaurants here in Portland are now carrying several different kinds of sake, and apostles of sake are hoping that this trend will only grow until every respectable wine list has a sake section.

We took a tour of the sakeria, which included these lovely murals depicting the ancient process of sake making. I found them much more interesting that the modern industrial equipment that we saw, so I photographed the murals instead.

In this first mural, water and rice are mixed together (I think) . . . 

and in this one, koji, a type of mold is added to the rice:

the koji enzymes turn the "starches in the rice into sugars that can be fermented by yeast cells, which then give off carbon dioxide and alcohol" (see this article here).

We also did a sake tasting. We must have tasted 10 or 12 of their sakes and I have to say that I wasn't a fan of the vast majority of their traditional sakes. I find that sake has a quasi-medicinal taste I just don't enjoy. Even the suggestion that there was a hint of "candy corn" flavor in one of the sakes didn't help me enjoy it!

But they also produce a couple of flavor-infused sakes that I did enjoy. I tried a raspberry sake, and also sampled Ken's coconut sake, and both were much more enjoyable than anything else we tasted. I suppose they are the "wine coolers" of the sake world ;)

Despite my not being a huge fan of sake, the trip was really delightful. We had lots of laughs and can now say we've been to an authentic sakeria!

Rip City Rally

On Sunday afternoon the Noems and I attended the last of the Blazers games in our four-game season pass. Recently, Scott Cullen commented that my rooting for the Blazers is an affront to the Knickerbockers from my hometown. Well, interestingly enough, that's exactly who we played this Sunday and I was proud to don my Blazer red and black!

Our Blazers were ahead throughout the first half and into the third quarter, when they decided to stop playing. The Knicks erased the deficit they had been buried in, and then went ahead by 13 points in the final ten minutes of the game. During their run, the Knicks simply couldn't miss a three-pointer. It was amazing and entirely frustrating.

But the Blazers showed no fear. Amazingly, they rallied and had the ball with just seconds left on the clock. After a time-out the Blazers went to their all-everything, Brandon Roy, who drove the lane and shot over three Knicks . . . the ball rolling around the rim and falling in, for a one point victory! 

We went nuts, of course. And, since the Blazers scored over 100 points, we were just as happy to collect our coupon for yet another free Chalupa ;)

Fr. Jim's Apostolic Visit

This past weekend, my classmate Fr. Jim Gallagher, CSC made a visit to his old stomping grounds here in Portland. The gang was thrilled to welcome him back home, and we gathered for two different events during the weekend.

On Friday we went out for dinner at the 5th Quadrant brew pub and enjoyed burgers, sandwiches and and Old Lompoc beer.  We had to wait a while for a seat . . . 

. . . but it was a very nice meal. (I enjoyed the beer well enough that I returned on Sunday night with my friend Doug to have a few pints after our normal Sunday evening basketball.)

After dinner a few of us made our way down to the Pearl District where we visited a bar I have been wanting to try from some time now. Teardrop is a tiny little establishment, but it is really nicely appointed: it has a unique teardrop-shaped bar, and interesting tables and booths. Classic black and white movies are projected silently on lush draperies that hang on the walls above the tables. It's a neat atmosphere - and the cocktails were interesting and delicious - if a tad bit skimpy.

On Saturday evening we gathered at the rectory for another pork and apple pie dinner. Jim was one of the founders of the feast, and he missed our gathering in October. So Ken and Mary were back in the kitchen . . .

. . . and Jim seemed to appreciate their efforts immensely.

Hopefully Jim enjoyed his visit as much as we enjoyed having him!

Is This Good News or Bad News?

"New England is now slightly ahead of the Pacific Northwest in terms of the high rate of unchurched people," said Mark Silk, co-author of "One Nation, Divisible: How Regional Religious Differences Shape American Politics."

I'm not sure if my job just got easier or harder ;)

Gotta love all those Mainline Protestants and Kennedy Catholics in Massachusetts and Maine who have abandoned religion altogether! 

And please note that New York is not a New England State - it belongs to the Mid-Atlantic states, thank you very much :)

Homily for the 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Earlier this week, those of us who follow the Catholic presence on the Internet, were saddened by news of the death of Michael Dubruiel. Michael was a prolific Catholic author, husband to Amy Welborn, one of the nation’s most widely read Catholic bloggers, and father to their young children. Michael collapsed and died while working out at the gym – he was only fifty years old.


Shortly after word of his death made the rounds on the Catholic web, his widow posted the most recent article he had written for their diocesan newspaper. Michael had completed the article the very night before he died. In the brief article Michael recalls something he once heard in an interview with Fr. Benedict Groeschel, CFR – who himself survived a nearly fatal car accident several years ago and still suffers the physical effects.

Fr. Groeschel said that there is, what he calls, a “big lie” in our modern world; a lie that says, “if we say all the right prayers and live correctly, then nothing bad will ever happen to us.”

All our modern technologies, our modern medicine and science, convince us that “most people have a good chance of living their lives without times of suffering or darkness. The world of media and advertising advance this illusion by creating a world of perfect ‘happy endings.’ If things are going badly for you, your luck will change, everything will come out alright in the end.”

Of course, we know that this is indeed a lie and yet, sadly, “there are many good people who have lost their faith in God precisely because they believed such a lie.”

If we have believed this “big lie,” or fall prey to it from time to time, once we actually face some trial or misfortune we are painfully brought back to reality – forced to entirely reevaluate our way of thinking, to change our view of how the world works.

Faced with the very obvious fact that “times of suffering, pain and difficulty are inevitable,” we can choose one of two options:

On the one hand, we can allow ourselves to “become disillusioned and deeply depressed, cynical and filled with brooding anger.” We can choose to believe that life is only misery and therefore there’s no reason for us to even try in the first place.

The powerful temptation of this option is that misery is easy. As we said, bad things are indeed going to happen to us no matter what we do or don’t do. It’s easier to resign ourselves to that misery than to believe in the possibility of joy.

But, on the other hand, we can indeed choose to accept joy into our lives. We can believe that “pain and misfortune don’t have the final word” and we can commit ourselves to the work that is admittedly required to recognize and achieve joy even in the midst of life’s inevitable suffering.

On the night before he died so unexpectedly, Michael Dubruiel finished his article by writing that “the opposite of the ‘big lie’ is trust.” We have to find it within ourselves to trust that despite life’s hardships, pains, and losses God is indeed in charge and His Providential love gives us the Cross, not as a torture, but as a gift and as a source of life!

In today’s first reading we hear a passage from one of the most important books in the Old Testament: the Book of Job. Though he was a pious and faithful man, free of any wrongdoing whatsoever, Job suffers ill health, the loss of all his possessions, and the death of his wife and children.

In his anguish, Job calls life on earth “a drudgery” and declares, “I shall not see happiness again.” We’ve all been there, haven’t we? This book of the Bible is one of the truly classic pieces in the entirety of human literature, precisely because it so perfectly captures one of the truly human responses to the problem of evil in the world.

But our readings don’t leave us in despair. In giving us this reading from Job for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, the Church very purposely pairs it with the Gospel and the Second Reading from St. Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians. These readings remind us of the reason for our hope – the source of our trust that Job’s despair doesn’t have the final word.

St. Paul writes about his obligation to preach the Gospel, and says: “I have made myself a slave to all, so as to win over as many as possible. To the weak I became weak, to win over the weak. I have become all things to all, to save at least some.”

In saying these things Paul is not only speaking of himself – he is speaking of the ways in which he has attempted to emulate Christ! It is Christ who first made Himself weak to win the weak, made Himself all things to all people to save at least those some who would accept His message.

And so sure enough we hear in today’s Gospel that Jesus refuses to stay only in His own town, but brings His Apostles through all the nearby villages and towns that He could preach, and teach, and heal there also. Jesus came precisely for the purpose of entering into our pain, becoming one of us in suffering. He came to save us from our own sinfulness and to show us that it is still possible to trust in God even when we encounter suffering, and loss, and pain.

It should be noted, however, that even today’s readings make clear what I suggested earlier: not everyone will hear or accept this message. Note that St. Mark says that Jesus “cured many who were sick.” Many – not all. And St. Paul says that he became all things to all people to save at least some, to win over as many as possible.

The greatest stories of human history are not people who have escaped all suffering and pain – those people don’t exist. The greatest human stories are about people who have encountered suffering in their life, and yet have refused to despair – they made the choice to believe and trust that joy was still possible even in a world that also includes pain. And these are considered truly great stories not because this is easy, but because we know just how hard it is to have that kind of faith.

A few weeks ago, I saw the wildly popular and critically acclaimed movie, Slumdog Millionaire. I’m convinced this movie’s popularity lies in precisely this fact: it tells the story of a young man convinced of the triumph of love and joy, even as he has experienced some of the world’s worst depravations in the slums of India.


Not every character in that movie proves capable of this kind of faith. And yet we rejoice with Jamal, the hero of the film, because we long to have that strength and hope when it is required of us.

Friends, in the end it will always remain our choice, whether we will have trust or not; whether we will hope, or despair. Our prayer, for ourselves and one another, is that the Eucharist we now celebrate will give us the nourishment and strength that is required to recognize and accept life’s many joys along with its sorrows – to never despair – to trust.