My dad, theologian? You bet!

Every July 27^th, I get in a kind of “funk” until I remember that it is the day my dad died in 1970 when I was still a teenager.  As I look at a picture of him today, I can’t help but remember what a brilliantly simple man he was!  He didn’t practice any particular religion (although he was a Mormon) but as I look back at some of our experiences together, I can see when he taught me a lot of theology without either of us knowing it!

I was about 11 or 12 years old and we were out in the back yard working in the garden. He wanted me to help pull the weeds. There were some pretty flowers that he took really good care of in the flowerbeds around the house, but in the vegetable garden, he was pulling them out! So I asked him, “How do I know which is a weed, and which plant isn’t?” He replied, “If it isn’t what we planted, no matter how beautiful it is, it’s a weed, because it can take over the whole garden and the vegetables won’t grow or get as big as we want them to, so it doesn’t belong here.” Sin is like that. It can be quite beautiful and seductive, but it is never what God intended to be in His garden.

In the Gospels, Jesus tells us of many ways that we have to choose between living joyfully with God forever and being forever separated from Him, in great pain over our loss.

The special spin that Jesus puts on this question of our choice is that we have a whole lifetime to make it in. God provides us with all that we need to choose Him and to make that choice concrete in our life rather than just a vague wish or orientation, and we must make that one central choice of our life in terms of the small daily choices that inch us closer to God or away from Him.

While the "harvesters" are able to tell the difference between the weeds and the wheat, we must ordinarily remain in some uncertainly about whether we truly have chosen God enough, whether we have loved Him enough. Any certainty about whether we are "saved" or not can be a form of self-delusion and lead to pride, laziness, and a fatal assumption that we are "good enough." That sort of thing can be deadly in our human relationships, and it is no different in our relationship with God.

 

I simply do not know whether I am weed or wheat while I am alive, and the fact is that I am both --- but which is the dominant side of who I am? While I myself am responsible for the choice, it is up to God to decide what I have actually chosen. And that is where the virtue of hope comes in.

The Kingdom of Heaven starts small, as small as the smallest seed you can see. A still, quiet voice in the human heart, speaking and reminding us that God is always present. Sometimes there will be no sign of it on the outside. But within, there is the yearning, the striving for heaven here and now.


But no matter how small it starts, with gardening and attendance, paying attention to God and what is important, with the slightest care, the smallest amount of devotion, it can grow by leaps and bounds -- a seedling, a shrub, a bush, a tree. And when it has grown, when we've allowed it to take root, it has another supernatural property -- it summons, from every corner of the earth and sky, those who would join. People can see the blessing of it; people can feel its comforting presence. And they are drawn to it. They are drawn to the cool shade of it on a hot summer day.


When we allow grace to work, we allow the Kingdom of Heaven to take root. And this kingdom is not for us to hoard and enjoy alone. It has as its chief characteristic the need to be shared, the desire to grow to include everyone.


When you open yourself up to God, do not be surprised that others see it in you and start to want to be near you. Do not underestimate the ability God has given you to change your part of the world into a corner of heaven.

#God'sLoveWins

What really drives me up a wall is the lack of civility rampant since the invention of the internet about EVERY issue under the sun!  It’s really hard to be one of the few people in the world who is pro-gun control but also an advocate for 2nd Amendment rights; an anti-abortion pro-lifer and anti-death penalty advocate; a firm believer in traditional marriage but at the same time a firm believer that I am not to judge anyone’s heart—that is for God alone. By the way, for those who say they are not judging someone's heart but rather their actions, I must say I envy you for your clairvoyance skills.  I simply don't have the power to know what is going on in someone else's heart--the only ONE who does is also empowered with endless mercy, so there is always that.

 

When I heard today’s Gospel (Mark 5:21-43) at Mass this morning, it made me think about how the people who followed Jesus at that time were lucky to see Him in the flesh. I wonder at their faith in this man. I fear I might have been more like Thomas and doubted. Yet today we heard of the woman who knew she only had to touch His clothes and she might be made whole.  We hear Jesus say to the family of the young girl who they believed had died: “Do not be afraid. Just have faith.”

Have faith; that letting go and believing. Have faith; that letting go and letting God in. That letting go can be both scary and freeing. While I might not have witnessed Jesus performing a miracle, I can still have faith that God can make me whole. I can have faith that though there is evil in the world, that “justice is undying.” (Wisdom 1:13-15)  I can have faith when I see the good in others, when I see people working to improve the lives of others who may feel forgotten. In those times and places, I can have faith that God is with all of us, no matter what our political leanings are.

In a world arguing about everything from climate changes to Supreme Court decisions and everything in between, it can be hard to have faith. We have to remember that miracles may be small, but I believe they happen all around us, if we could only see. Our faith should propel us to not only believe but to also act. Let your faith shine. Let God in. Believe that justice is undying, that by doing what you can, where you are, you can make a difference in the world.  Remember that God is in control.  As our Lord and Savior says “Do not be afraid.  Just have faith."

In the last week or so I’ve also been relying heavily on (MT 22:34-40).  In today’s political and theological hotbed, I am reminded of the Pharisees and Sadducees.

Both the Sadducees and the Pharisees were religious parties in Jesus' day. Both were critical of and were criticized by Jesus.

The Sadducees thought of themselves as "conservatives," as the Old Believers. This is because they accepted only the written Law of Moses as authoritative and rejected subsequent revelation. As a result, the Sadducees denied many of the doctrines held by the Pharisees and by Jesus, including the resurrection of the dead, the existence of angels and spirits, and the meting out of rewards and punishment after death. These beliefs were thought by the Sadducees to be Zoroastrian corruptions of the authentic faith of Israel.

The Pharisees, on the other hand, were a lay group more representative of the common man. In addition to the written Law of Moses, the Pharisees accepted as authoritative the rest of what is for us the Old Testament, as well as the "tradition of the elders."

Whereas the Sadducees saw worship at the Temple as the main focus of the Law, the Pharisees believed this to be but one component among many of proper Mosaic observance. It was over the interpretation of the Law and which understanding of it represented the authentic tradition of Israel that Jesus and the Pharisees disagreed.

I guess my point is that Jesus essentially told both factions the same thing:  “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment.

The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”

I’ve decided that I’m just going to not worry, but have faith, pray,love my neighbor and above all love my Merciful God.  And if you don’t like it, tough.  LOL

The wonder of it all.......

There was so much to see and so much to do in Rome! As I wrote yesterday, we spent the first day riding buses and walking to get a good overview of the city. 

When we were still in the planning stages, Tony had set up a guided tour of the Vatican Museum for Monday morning. Then we had planned on seeing the other basilicas afterwards. 

Tony was aware that June 2 (Tuesday) was going to be the day that Italy celebrates Republic Day (the day when Italians voted to abolish the monarchy in 1946 so their country could become a republic), and learned that many of the things we would want to visit might not be accessible. So we decided that we would take our Vatican tour as planned, but also try to squeeze in the Colosseum, Forum, and the Pantheon as time permitted as well. 

We did manage to get to the Colosseum and glance at the Forum, but the Pantheon was closed, as it has restricted hours. We were fortunate to be able to see the Pantheon after the Wednesday Audience, though. 

It was a very long day, but one I would not have given up for anything! We started at 7:30 in the morning and we finished our dinner at 9:00 that evening. We were finally in bed at around 11:00 that night.

The Vatican Tour was fabulous and breathtaking! The beauty of the halls, the ceilings, the statues—EVERYTHING—is beyond description. The best way to describe them is through some of the pictures we took.

Entrance to the Vatican Museum

Vatican Gardens

Lily wanted to know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING!

One of the highlights of the tour was the famous Sistine Chapel. I have heard stories of how it is so crowded that one can't truly enjoy the experience. I didn't find that to be true. We had plenty of room to move around and marvel at the masterpiece. There was a lot of chatter however, despite efforts by Museum docents to maintain silence in the sacred chamber. But really, can you blame people for being awed beyond belief?

After the Sistine Chapel, it was on to St. Peter's Basilica. The moment I entered through the doors, I felt my eyes welling up with such emotion! I was actually in the midst of hundreds of popes, many of them saints; and shrines and altars and mosaics and blessed artifacts dating anywhere from 200-1900 years ago! I silently said a prayer of thankgiving to God for his blessings on me and my family. I would describe the “highlights” of the basilica, but there were too many! The most memorable were the Pieta, the tombs of the hundreds of former popes (most notably St. John-Paul II and St. John XXIII). I had never seen a cathedral or basilica or church as huge as St. Peter's. Just when I thought my brain was on overload, along came something else to increase my amazement!

We were blessed to be able to see the Pope’s Secretary of State (Archbishop Pietro Parolin) up close as he recessed out of a Mass at the main altar he had said that morning. Our tour guide said it was a really rare sight to see.

Yes, I'm crying at the wonder of it all!  

We were told that there was a stairway that led to the top of the dome of St. Peter's and the the rest of the family wanted to try and see it. I don't do well with stairs, so I spent a good ½ hour—at Marilyn’s suggestion (God bless her!)—in Adoration of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament at one of the side chapels inside St. Peter’s. I prayed for every one of my family and relatives and friends and their intentions. There are no words capable of explaining how overwhelming that experience was but I’ve never been more confident or hopeful in my prayers as I was during that ½ hour. I think I got the better end of the deal actually, because the family decided the wait was too long and the weather too hot to climb those stairs after all. I like to think that although it was Marilyn's suggestion that I spend time in Adoration, it was arranged by the Holy Spirit so that I could pray for all of you! He knew how much it would mean to me to be alone with Jesus amid all the crowds and noise happening outside that chapel.

After leaving the basilica, we caught a couple of cabs to take us over to the other side of town for lunch at a pizzaria Tony had read or heard about. It was really delicious, but no seating! And after all that walking on the tour, I could have used a seat. I survived however, and we made our way over to the Colosseum.

I think this is plenty for today. Tomorrow I'll finish up Day 2; the Colossem, some more churches, and Lily's favorite thing to do in Rome—“lighting candles for the poor”.

When in Rome.......

Because it’s MY blog, I’m going to change course for tonight and start my recounting of our recent trip to Italy in a somewhat chronological order.  It’s easier to remember that way.  And, most of my really profound spiritual moments occurred starting on the 2^nd full day anyway, so it will really get interesting then!

We started our vacation on Friday, May 29^th after Lily’s kindergarten graduation ceremony.  We left from the school for the airport.  Our flight to Italy was in two stages.  The first was from San Francisco to Istanbul.  There was a five hour (or so) layover.  The second flight was from Istanbul to Rome.  With the length of the flights and the time changes—a nine hour difference—we “lost” an entire day to travel and we arrived in Rome at around midnight on Sunday, May 31^st, Rome time.  We caught a shuttle to our hotel.  I hesitate to call it a “taxi”, because it wasn’t, really.  It was an independent contractor who was hustling for fares inside the terminal and we negotiated a reasonable fare.  Sarah and Tony were staying at a different hotel, so we made arrangements to hook up about 8am to “get familiar with Rome”.

When we awoke the next morning, our first order of business for Sunday was to go to Mass.  According to the internet, there was a 10am Mass in St. Peter’s.  We thought that would be a great experience, so when we met up with Sarah and Tony, we started to make our way to St. Peter’s.  When we got there, there was a huge line.  I couldn’t believe they were all there for Mass because the crowd didn’t look particularly dressed for it.  We stopped to ask one of the local policemen who was helping with crowd control where the Mass was in St. Peter’s.  He didn’t understand a word we were saying, and we didn’t understand him.  But we were given the impression that there WASN’T a Mass in the basilica that morning.  It sounded odd to me that there would not be a Mass every Sunday at the very seat of the Roman Catholic Church, but now we had to re-think our plan.  I said “It’s Rome!  When I checked on-line there is a Mass somewhere in this city every hour until 8pm.  We just have to find one!” 

As it turns out, about two or three blocks up the street from the Basilica there is another church, St. Mary in Transpontina.   They had a Mass scheduled for 10:00am.  It was now 9:30.  Perfect!  And so we attended our first Mass in Italy.  The beautiful thing about the Catholic Mass is that no matter where you are in the world, the liturgy is basically the same.  There are some cultural differences though, like language of course.  Also, there are differences in postures and gestures on the part of the celebrant and congregations.  As a side note, there are even differences in postures and gestures between some dioceses in the U.S.  As an example, when I attend Mass in Stockton, we are asked by the Bishop to remain standing after receiving Communion until all have received as a sign of “unity and community” (Bishop Blaire’s words), but in Fresno everyone goes back to the pews and kneels until the leftover Hosts are reposed in the tabernacle.

 

Anyway, there we were at Mass and I’m responding when appropriate in English (softly, so as not to draw attention to the “tourist”) and Sarah and Marilyn are in the pew behind me attempting to say the same prayers and responses in Italian!  I thought “How are they doing that?”  Turns out I should have picked up one of the bulletins at the front door because they were also tiny missalettes with the prayers said by the laity.

 

Another difference in the Mass I had never seen before was that after the “Mystery of Faith” (a declaration of Christ’s sacrifice for us said right after the priest consecrates the bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus) the congregation stands and remains standing for the rest of the Eucharistic Prayer.  With all of the different Masses I’ve attended in different countries and different dioceses, this was a first and it felt really uncomfortable, until I reminded myself, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”!

I thought I was being “original” in using the phrase in this situation.  I was wrong.  In fact it was differences in liturgical and religious practices in the early Church that brought about the saying!

From what I can glean from the internet, the phrase is attributed to St. Ambrose, way back in 387 A.D. (I wonder what people did before we had the internet?—Oh, that’s right!  We went to the library!  But I digress).

As the story goes, when St. Augustine arrived in Milan to assume his role as Professor of Rhetoric for the Imperial Court, he observed that the Church did not fast on Saturdays as it did in Rome.

Confused, he consulted with the wiser and older Ambrose, then the Bishop of Milan (and who played a part in St. Augustine’s conversion). Ambrose replied: “When I am at Rome, I fast on Saturday; when I am at Milan I do not. Follow the custom of the Church where you are.”

In 1621, British author Robert Burton, in his classic writing Anatomy of Melancholy, edited St. Ambrose’s remark to read: “When they are at Rome, they do there as they see done.”  His advice has remained in the English language as the saying, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

Even with all of the differences, it was still the same Mass but for some reason it was a much more intense experience.  Probably because WE WERE IN ROME!

The rest of the day was spent riding around on the double-decker tour bus or walking around the city, getting a “feel” for what we wanted to do the next couple of days.  Except for a couple of hours when Alicia, Lily and I went back to the hotel to take a nap while Marilyn, Sarah and Tony walked around some more, taking some pictures and having fun.  It was a good plan.  They scouted out some sights to visit in more detail over the next couple of days, and I don’t feel that we three “sleepy-heads” missed out on anything. 

Next up:  The Vatican Tour, the Colosseum, great food and more!

Top 5 Spiritual Moments of Our Vacation (for me)

Today marked 12 days since we’ve been back from Italy and I’m still on a “high”.   There were so many great experiences that I’m afraid I may forget some if I don’t write them down!  I think I can classify my  experiences into three types; a spiritual pilgrimage, an ancestral pilgrimage to the hometown of Marilyn’s paternal grandparents and a family vacation to recharge our batteries and let us forget about our work for a couple of weeks.

Over the next few weeks, I want to give the “5 best moments” of each type of experience.  It’s going to be really difficult because I can only think of about 3 things I didn’t really enjoy on the trip.  For instance, the long flights (unavoidable, I’m afraid), the length of the vacation (entirely too short) and my inability to keep up physically with the rest of the family at times (which precluded me from experiencing a great hike along the Amalfi Coast and climbing to the top of some of the higher cathedrals, etc., that I know I would have loved to do if in better shape).

I want to start by giving thanks to God for blessing me with such a great family.  I give Marilyn and the kids all the credit for the greatest pilgrimage I could have asked for!

The best 5 moments for me spiritually in no particular order (except the first, of course!):

1.       Attending a General Audience with Pope Francis, getting to within 5’ of him as he drove past in his “popemobile”.   It was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream!

2.   Taking a tour of the Vatican Museum and St. Peter’s Basilica, including the Sistine Chapel and Michelangelo’s Pietá. 

3.   We visited all four of the Papal Basilicas—St Peter’s, St. Paul’s Outside-the-Walls, St. John Lateran, and St. Mary Major, attending a first mass for a new priest in one, and having my confession heard in another.

4.  Going into and praying in many, many of the “ancient Roman churches” (as the taxi drivers describe them, lol)

5.   Having some real faith-based conversations with Lily in many of those churches. 

I will write separate posts on each of these experiences over the next 5 days….I’m just so overwhelmed tonight by remembering each of them that I can’t focus on just one right now.  The good news is that I’ll have a written record of my trip through my blog that my kids and descendants  can pull up and read years from now.  The bad news is that it’s going to take about 3 weeks or more to recount all of the experiences.  I hope I can keep my mind fresh with the details.  It’s a good thing I have pictures to help me remember. 

Good night for now.   

It's not about laws......

I wanted to keep this short, but it’s tough.  I was reading some more articles on the detention centers in Texas where the US Government is detaining women and children who are seeking asylum from violence in their own countries, even after many of them have actually proven a personal danger exists! Contrary to popular myth, they are not after public assistance or health care.  They are all about saving their lives and the lives of their children.  Who among us wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth to protect our loved ones, no matter the consequences? 

Hardened criminals in Karnes, Texas

I am truly saddened by the comments after the articles where there appears to be a lack of empathy or compassion for these women and children who would in truth much rather be back in their own countries living peaceful lives, but simply can’t because of the dangers presented there.  A lot of the comments begin with the statement “What part of illegal don’t you understand?”

I’m pretty educated.  I think I know what the word means.  My response is and will continue to be “What part of love don’t YOU understand?”  Jesus said “This I command you: love one another.” (John 15:17)

You see, it's not about laws, it's all about love.

Our Lord tells us that the greatest commandments come down to two, which sum up all the rest: to love God with all of one's heart, mind, soul, and strength and to love our neighbor as ourselves.  If we truly do this, we will be keeping God's commandments by virtue of our love, which is itself a response to God's grace.  Unless we love God, as St. John tells us repeatedly, we cannot keep His commandments.

"It is not that we keep His commandments first, and that then He loves; but that He loves us, and then we keep His commandments. This is that grace which is revealed to the humble but hidden from the proud."

(St. Augustine, Lectures on the Gospel of John, Tractate 82,3)

Another parish visited on my pilgrimage!

Number 79 out of 124!  That's how many churches I've visited since the Spring of 2009 on my personal pilgrimage to visit every church in the dioceses of Fresno and Stockton.  I decided that to qualify as a "visit" I would have to attend a Mass or Communion Service, or go to confession or adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.  Since a few of the churches seemed like the doors were never open when I had the chance to visit, I modified my visit "standards" after a while.  Now I merely have to stop by and see if the church doors are open and if not, I will say a prayer in honor of the patron saint or the church's name.  If there is a courtyard or "prayer garden" I will say a rosary. 

I checked another church off my list today when I attended Mass at Saint Augustine's parish in Lamont, CA.  It is only 15 minutes away from my apartment in Bakersfield.  It's typical of most farm community parishes in the central valley, offering more masses in Spanish than in English.  But they do have a Mass in English at 11:00am and since I overslept this morning it was a perfect time for me.

The church grounds are very well maintained and there are lots and lots of statues of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and quite a few Marian statues as well.  In the nave, there is a shrine to St. Juan Bautista (St John the Baptist) and behind the altar there is a statue of St. Augustine, the patron saint of the parish.

But you can tell it's a poor parish.  The pews are a little old and run down, they still use a hand-held or standing microphone that the priest moves around to wherever he is praying from, and either they don't have an organ or there is no one who can play it.  All of the songs sung at Mass this morning we led a capella by a couple of older ladies from a typewritten song sheet they handed out before Mass!  They had fine voices, but they were evidently not trained music ministers.  Fortunately, 5 of the the 7 songs they chose today I was familiar with, so I was able to join in.

The priest gave a homily I would rank an 8 out of ten.  He started off strong but ended a little weak, in my opinion.  Since today was "Good Shepherd Sunday", that was his topic.  He told of local shepherds who move their flocks sometimes in the dead of night so as to give them better protection when crossing the roads and highways as they search for better grazing fields.  It was really quite interesting at first, but the longer he went on, the less interesting it became. 

With the lack of musical accompaniment and the 25 minute homily, Mass lasted an hour and 15 minutes!

Overall though, it was a great Mass, giving thanks to God for sending us our Good Shepherd to lead us on our journey to His greener pastures.   

The Good Shepherd knows His sheep

About a month ago, Marilyn's mom was cleaning out some closets and came across a couple of WWII vintage army blankets that belonged to my father-in-law.  One was in excellent shape and the other had a slight tear on one edge.  We decided to keep the good one and Marilyn put the other in a bag and asked me to dispose of it somehow.  It was my intention to drop it off at a homeless shelter, because they can always use blankets.  I just never got around to it and it was sitting in my trunk until today.

I was sitting in the office this morning looking out the window as the wind blew and the rain was getting heavy from a cloudburst and I saw him.  You know the guy....he's pushing a shopping cart or carrying a black trash bag and rummaging through trash bins and landscaping looking for recyclables that he can turn into cash.  He is in every city in the country.  Today he crossed threshold into my office.  "Do you have any cans or bottles I can take off of your hands today?", he asked rather pleasantly.  I replied "Sorry, not today!" hoping (I'm sorry to admit) he would beat a hasty retreat back outside where he could "bother" someone else.

He started out the door then turned back toward me and said, "Do you mind if I wait out the storm in here?  It's kind of cold and wet out there and I don't have a coat."  Cue the light bulb over my head.  "Come with me", I said.  I took him out to my car and opened the trunk.  I handed him the army blanket and said, "I've been waiting for you".  He said "Wow!  This is great!  I don't have a blanket.  It's awfully cold some nights."  I also found in my trunk a coat that I don't wear very often because of some tears in the fabric.  I handed that to him as well and said "God bless you, I think this will fit you."

With that, he left....I think with his head held a little higher than when I first met him ten minutes earlier.

I didn't write this to exhort myself.  I wrote it to show what a loving God we have that guides His sheep to those who can supply just what they need when they need it.  All the glory and honor is His.

My Merciful Lord and My God!

Alleluia! The Lord is Risen!

The Easter season has the most exciting Scripture readings of the year. They take us from the empty tomb all the way to the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

Today is Divine Mercy Sunday, declared a Feast Day in 2000 by Pope (now Saint) John Paul II based on the appearances of the Lord to a Polish nun, Saint Faustina Kowalska.  Christ's message to her was (and is for us today) that, if we trust in His Divine Mercy, He will transform us sinners through His merciful love.

I can’t help but think of Mom today.  She had such a devotion to Divine Mercy!  Every day at 3pm—or as close as she could get to it—she would stop whatever else she was doing and recite the Divine Mercy chaplet.   It's because of her devotion that I put the video and excerpt from St. Faustina's diary on the sidebar of my blog.  And along with the rosary, it's now one of my favorite devotions, as well--although I can't always remember the 3 O'clock hour every day.  I do try to recite it whenever I hear of an imminent death or when I feel the need to ask for God's Mercy on the whole world, which is pretty often.

Divine Mercy Sunday also brings my brother Tom to mind because the Gospel for this Feast day is one of the few that are not on a three-year cycle of Scripture readings; rather, the Church uses the same Gospel on this Sunday every year.  It used to be called “Doubting Thomas Sunday” because it’s the gospel that tells us of his temporary struggle with doubting Jesus’ Resurrection.

    

Thomas wasn't the only one who had doubts about Jesus.  On Easter Sunday, we left the Apostles huddled in fear in the empty room pondering the shocking experience of the week before.  They weren't so sure that the women's report was believable.  They weren't singing for joy!  Now, a whole week has gone by. They still felt "rocky" about their future.  Jesus had broken through those doors to assure them that He was alive.  And His message must have troubled them: "As the Father has sent me, so I send you."

Just when they were planning to go back to their former occupations, Jesus wanted them to continue the message--to take up His Mission.  While on His earthly ministry, Jesus had preached with mixed success.  Would they have any better results?  The Resurrection made all the difference, of course.  Was it really true?  When Jesus showed Thomas the wounds in His hands, His feet, and His side, not only Thomas but the rest of the Apostles were strengthened in their faith and trust in the Lord.  And the Gospel hints at many more miraculous events and appearances.

In today's first reading from Acts, we see what life was like in the early Christian community. Their faith was firm, and they were unified in it. They catechized all who would listen. Their fears and doubts were replaced with joy.

The second reading describes for us an early sermon of Peter, written down a few years after he had already been martyred for his staunch faith. He is addressing a group of churches in Asia Minor to whom the Good News has already been preached. His prayer speaks of the promise of Eternal Life and salvation at the end of time. He speaks of the suffering they will have to endure, and the rewards of praise, glory and honor that await them.

As Pope Francis directs us, we must courageously reach out to so many doubters among us, and assure them of the great mercy of Jesus, His great love for them.  Our world is hurting as never before in our lifetime.  We must all seriously take on ourselves the obligation Jesus gave to the Apostles in that Upper Room: "As the Father has sent me, I also send you."

With Thomas may we respond, "My Lord and my God!"

A Holy Week memory

7 years ago (Thanks to Lily, who is 6 years old now, I can pinpoint the year), I was driving Mom home from LA on Tuesday the week before Easter.  I was really tired and my mind was starting to wander. Mom asked me if I would say the Divine Mercy chaplet with her, as it was the 3 O’clock hour. I said yes with a sigh, thinking, “OK, I’ll do it out of respect for Mom, but I really don’t feel like it. I’m soooo tired.” And so we began—“In the Name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” Then we recited the Our Father, a Hail Mary, and the Apostle’s Creed. Mom began the first Praise—“Eternal Father, I offer you the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Your Dearly Beloved Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ…” To which I was to have replied “In atonement for our sins and those of the whole world.” But just as Mom had said “Our Lord Jesus Christ” we drove by a meadow where there were several sheep grazing with small lambs in attendance, and I immediately thought of the Lamb of God. Here we were, offering the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of the Lamb of God to the Father, and I get a visual! I was so taken aback by the revelation that I stumbled on my response to Mom and she had to remind me what it should be! I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. But at the same time, I felt rejuvenated and committed to reciting the chaplet with as much love for our Lord as I could muster. It also reminded me that I should get to confession as soon as possible and apologize to God for sinning through my own fault, in what I had done and in what I had failed to do.

The 4 days immediately preceding this drive with Mom, Marilyn the girls and I had been in New York for a short sightseeing trip and to see a couple of Broadway plays.  As we were walking along 5th Avenue in the morning on the way to Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, we passed by a young man who was obviously cold. I thought, “Dear God, if this guy is still out here when we pass this way again, I’m going to give him my gloves.” Talk is cheap. Strike one. Not only that, but by the time Mass was over, I had already forgotten to look for him on the way back. Strike two. Later on in the day, we were walking back to the hotel for the evening after a long day of sightseeing, and I saw a woman bundled up against the cold, looking almost dead lying on the sidewalk.  Many people were walking by very quickly, appearing not to notice her. It was like she was just part of the landscape. But did I do anything? For a fleeting moment, I thought I should see if she was all right and maybe buy her a cup of soup or something. But did I? No, I picked up my pace to try to catch up to the girls, who were crossing the street about 50 feet in front of me. Strike three. From this point on in the trip, I really felt bad about my obvious lack of compassion.  For all of my noble thoughts of loving my neighbor as myself, I showed a complete disdain for what Christ called the Greatest Commandment.  I think that both of these unfortunate people were placed in my path for me to recognize as Jesus, and I failed our Lord’s test.

So on that Tuesday I was praying with Mom, when I saw those lambs in the meadow, I was so sorry for having failed Christ that I almost cried and didn’t feel worthy enough to be speaking to Him. At the same time I felt so overwhelmed with gratitude because even though I had denied Him (3 times!... Coincidence?) earlier that week, He was letting me know that He loves me and will afford me His perfect mercy if I just ask. In fact, I feel like crying now just writing about it. 

Stressed out? Something to ponder

“In my distress I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice.”  (Psalm 18:7)

This psalm is a reminder to let go of stress before it becomes distress.  As many of us know, stress from our job, relationships, the larger community or life in general can weigh on us and cause us to worry and fret.  Stress generally makes most of us uncomfortable, unhappy and in some cases physically and emotionally ill.  If left unresolved, or if ignored, over time stress can lead to “distress” and manifest itself in feelings of pain and suffering.

So it’s good for the psalmist to remind us that the Lord will hear our voices when we call out in distress.  Does the Lord make the stress go away?  Not really.  If you are stressed because of a job, or financial issues, or a rocky relationship, or if you feel stressed because of poverty, or immigration, or the death penalty, or the threat of war or terror, the Lord doesn’t remove those stresses from your life.

  

So what does the psalmist mean by saying the Lord hears our voices?  Is God a sounding board, absorbing all the prayers of humankind, cataloging them in an unimaginably large data bank?  We share our woes with the Lord – how does that help relieve stress?

One way, I think, is that knowing the Lord hears enables us to have perspective.  Our stresses seem pretty large to us as individuals, but are not terribly significant in the grand creation of the universe.  Knowing the Lord listens can provide us with a calming sense of the true insignificance of our current worries.

The Lord also listens by sending us examples of how to handle stresses.  Jesus is perhaps the greatest example.  He has reminded us of the need to let go of worry – the parable of the birds singing without a care in the world is a beautiful reminder of the grace of detachment from worries and cares (Matthew 6: 25-34).  Note also what He does in John’s gospel (John 10: 31-42), challenging the accusers to evaluate the works done in the Lord’s name.  Jesus rhetorically asks – “How can I not be who I say I am and still perform the miracles that I do?”  This causes us to think – what actions do I take and how do people understand who I am by those actions?  What can I DO in reaction to the stresses in my life, and how can I make a difference in reducing these concerns?  The old saying “God helps those who help themselves” is a reminder that we can reduce stress by acting in concert with God.

The Lord also listens by inviting us to let go of our stresses – to turn them over to the Lord, our rock of refuge.  To do this requires us to give up control of our stresses and to let the Lord “own” them.  It requires us to have the faith to let go, to believe that the worries of our everyday lives are insignificant in God’s wonderful design.  Recall a time when a stress was removed from your life, and the relief you felt.  Isn’t that what God calls us to do through the psalmist?

So, Lent can be a time when we are reminded of these things – when through our prayer and fasting and good works and repentance we identify the stresses in our lives, when our faith grows so we can turn them to the Lord.  Lent reminds us of our dependence on the Lord for all the truly meaningful succor and sustenance of our lives – the peace that comes from reunion with our Creator God by our conscious and faithful surrender to our call from our Lord. 

Memories of Grandpa Batty

Because I have hope eternal in the mercies of God through His Son Jesus Christ, I tend to think of the dates that my loved ones pass on as their "feast days."  Tomorrow is my grandfather's "feast day", as he was called home to Christ on the Solemnity of St. Joseph the Worker in 1970.

 

The Catholic Church assigns one date out of the year for each and every canonized saint — known as the saint’s feast day. The saints are remembered on their individual feast days with special mention, prayers, and possibly a scripture reading.

A saint’s feast day can be the day of their actual death or a day assigned by the Church.  Typically, the Church only assigns a day when the day of death is unknown or if several other saints are already assigned to that day. The number of canonized saints, however, is greater than the number of days in a calendar year; therefore two or more saints often share the same feast day. Because overlap often occurs, and the Church isn’t sure of the date of death of some saints, other calendar dates are sometimes chosen — such as the day that the saint was canonized.

An example is St. Joseph the Worker’s Day, March 19.  This day is a full solemnity—a full blown liturgical feast, or a pretty big occasion in the Catholic Church.  The reason should be obvious due to the belief about Joseph’s role in the early life of Jesus: As the husband of Mary and foster father of Jesus, he took care of Mary and Jesus.  He’s the patron of the universal Church and the head of the holy family, which refers to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph during the first 30 years of Jesus’ life.  How fitting that my grandfather should be called home to Heaven on this day!

I was only 16 years old when Clarence L (no name, just the initial) Batty died.  Even though Mom and Dad took us to Compton to visit them often, my memories of going to Grandma and Grandpa's house are sketchy at best.

  

There is one thing in particular that I remember every time I think of Grandpa.   He is the one who introduced me to the "funny papers" in the Sunday newspaper.  Since most of our visits were on Sunday (or so it seemed, anyway), I can see in my mind's eye Grandpa sitting on his sofa as we entered his house reading the Sunday paper.  When he saw me come through the door, he would say “Hi!” and hand me the “funnies”.  That was what he called them.  I don’t think I ever heard him call them anything else.  They were the funnies.  He told me once that he always read the funnies first, because the rest of the newspaper was sure to depress him.  He was a wise and funny man.  Pun intended.

As a matter of fact, most memories that come to me about my visits to Grandpa's house involve reading.  I don't know if it was Grandma or Grandpa who bought them, but I remember reading a lot of comic books at their house.  Not Superman or Batman or any of the "cool" comics I collected at home, but "Classic Comics"--comics that were condensed, illustrated versions of classic novels.  I read "Last of the Mohicans", "Moby Dick", and several other "novels" for the first time in this format, all while sitting or lying prone on the floor at my grandfather's feet while he and my parents held their conversations in the living room.  I think Grandpa must have had a subscription to them or something, because there was always a new one whenever I visited, and he would let me take them home.  I lost track of them a long time ago, but they opened my eyes to some of the greatest literature of all time.  Thanks, Grandpa!

I remember my grandpa as a quiet, gentle man who showed nothing but love and respect for everyone he came in contact with. I never heard him raise his voice or speak with anger. He was a great role model.  I hope I can live up to his expectations. 

I thought I would post a few links to some memories my mom put on her blog a couple of years ago that should give you all some more insight into my Grandpa’s life.
My father

Today's feast day

More on Dad on St. Joseph Day 

Life was sure a lot more interesting back then, I think.  Interesting, but harder.  But that's a topic for another day.

Side note:  I’m sure I have a picture of Grandpa somewhere at the house, but I’m writing this in the company apartment, some 300 miles from home.  If one of you out there has a picture to post, be my guest.  Otherwise, I’ll post something on his birthday, which doesn’t immediately come to mind, but I will remember (or look it up)! Lol.