The apostle Paul must have loved Jesus’ parable about the-last-will-be-first-and-first-shall-be-last laborers since he came to Jesus a tad later in the fullness of his life, then tried to bring others to the faith, no matter what their season in life. It’s also a fan favorite of OCIA (formerly RCIA) converts; the older they are the more meaningful this laborer-in-the-vineyard story is. It’s also a favorite of those adults just needing the sacrament of Confirmation, since they are in the “three o’clock” hour of life. It’s easy for folks to miss out on that last sacrament of initiation. Families can be messy during those teenage years… parents aren’t always willing or able to add one more thing to the family schedule, they move from one parish to another with different age parameters, or they’ve fallen away from the faith and a sacramental grace isn’t all that important at the moment. If you – or another adult you know and love – just needs the sacrament of Confirmation to complete their sacraments of initiation, have them contact me. I’m running an 8-week session between Sunday morning masses for those individuals who are active in the faith but missed the sacrament of Confirmation. It's never too late and that grace we talked about last week. It’s given in droves at the sacrament of Confirmation, along with some fruits and gifts of the Holy Spirit to keep the faith alive in our hearts and minds. The other cool thing we do around here is seek out and train the laborers. Parent/student formation begins October 4th. We have four extraordinary young men from St. John Vianney Seminary teaching the middle schoolers this year! If you haven’t registered your 6th or 7th grader, do so NOW. You won’t regret it. These men of faith are amazing witnesses and super fun… and working in Lord’s vineyards at the dawn of their lives. And remember to hang with us at our Holy Hours on Tuesday evenings from 6:30 – 7:30pm to receive grace and gain strength for your own work in the vineyard, no matter when you clocked-in. #stepinanytime
It’s been a wild ride this week on all fronts, resplendent with a number of glorious highs, a few left-turns out of nowhere, and some pretty jarring lows. My Monday night Evangelical Catholic group, Women’s Bible mornings, delightful nurses, and the new Tuesday evening Holy Hours are among the newest mountain top experiences; such lovely community experiences that bring a smile to my face and a song to my soul. The left-turns are more personal, dealing with the shenanigans of elderly parents and the puzzling administrative nature of “health care” when it comes to caring to those whose days are definitely numbered on God’s good earth. And what kind of adventurous life would we have without the abrupt and sudden lows that bring us to our knees, wondering how the Lord allowed this, and more importantly, why it was allowed to happen, then how to navigate a response. It’s responding to those unnerving events that drop us right in the midst of us the readings today. Sirach warns us not to hold onto anger, wrath, and vengeance when we are the recipient of un-Christian and hurtful behavior. “Forgive your neighbor’s injustice; then when you pray your owns sins will be forgiven.” The psalmist chimes in, reminding us that since our kind and merciful Lord does not ‘requite’ us in light of our own sin, neither should we wish retribution on others. It’s the whole “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us” deal, which means that we will be forgiven by the exact measure we forgive. Paul reminds us that it’s hard to die to self… especially when we so desire retribution against those who hurt us. But die to self-interest we must, so that we are not weighed down by wrath and anger (circling back to Sirach). Then Our Lord tells Peter this lovely parable about the immeasurable depth of God’s forgiveness, that kind of forgiveness which transcends our own earthly ability. The kind that requires sacramental graces of Eucharist and confession or time in front of Our Lord at Adoration. The kind that reflects God’s love. #forgivenessloveandgrace
Remember last week and the whole “losing your life” and “renewing your mind” and “living the faith out loud”? Those simple concepts we are all on board with? This week’s readings show us just how difficult it might be and how heavy your cross might be. We’re still with our OT friend Ezekiel whose been “duped” [persuaded by hope] into speaking out, and now we see more of the cross he bears, which is just like all of ours: A consequence of our behavior. God has says to Ezekiel that saving souls can only be accomplished by speaking the truth of the faith. And if he doesn’t do as the Lord wills, then he’s responsible for their souls. We’re also still with Paul’s letter to the good people of Rome who need to be reminded of the balance between love and law which is speaking the Truth with love. It’s not easy, but souls are at stake. Do we like correction? Absolutely not. Are we sometimes angry with people who correct us? Absolutely yes. Do we still need to both give correction and receive correction? “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone,” says the Lord, so that’s a really big YES. Notice that the first step is to meet personally with the person who needs a life-check, not to lay it out on social media or send a mass email. If a one-on-one doesn’t work, find a friend or two and make a beer/coffee date to talk over their destructive life choices. The last resort is to ask the help of elders in the church who can run interference with you. Also note that this directive is specific to moral improprieties, not whether your Beloved leaves his socks on the floor every night or your neighbor parks his car too close to your driveway. Those are annoying (and opportunities for sanctification!), not sinful soul-darkening acts against God. Here’s the MOST IMPORTANT PART of beginning a difficult conversation: Remember that it’s about their eternal life, then speak unto them as you would have them speak unto you. #loveandfaith
It’s that time of year, the weekend of “The Great Sigh.” We’re anticipating a change in routine, different work hours, and new responsibilities. We mourn the loss of long sunny days and the gentle freedom that comes with summer. The lakes and rivers begin to cool. The hard work of closing the cabin begins - when it seems like we just opened. Relatives go back from whence they came and the opportunity to gather comes to an end. We sigh The Great Sigh. And yet. September is also a time of great anticipation. So much promise and so much to look forward to. Crisp evenings and warm days. A school year with old friends and new opportunities. The return of Bible studies, small groups, and the choirs at Mass. We even have some new social events here at St. Elizabeth’s! The Spirit is on the move, yes? The “why” we look forward to this new season has a lot to do with our readings today: Every opportunity for change is a lesson in hope. Jeremiah is compelled to speak despite the derision of his friends and weariness of the work, but he hopes that people will change because of his words. Paul wants his people to leave their old life behind and hopes they understand that a renewal of their heart and mind will naturally spur them into acting like Christians should. Jesus, naturally, hopes we leave our own plans behind and follow His plan for us because he knows we will find a life-worth-living. That life doesn’t come without some sacrifice and risk, for it means living the faith out loud when others think you should keep silent. So what might it look like to live “the will of God” and what does it mean to “lose your life”? It means you’ll breathe The Great Sigh. You’ll find new routines, holy hours, prayers, and opportunities to witness to the faith. Yes, you’ll be letting some things go, like a sinful habit, a long-standing grudge, a desire for riches or power, or an unhealthy friendship. But gosh, what a beautiful life you will gain. #hopeandpromise
It’s a minor tragedy when an extraordinary prayer partner for all mothers trying to get their kids to Mass on time (or even to Mass, period), loses her feast day to the twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time. You guessed it, today is the feast day of St. Monica, long-suffering mother of our sinner-turned-saint, Augustine. I’m a little partial to this one, as our daughter is a Monica and I have some lovely friends with that name. Like the Apostle Peter, Monica proclaimed that Jesus Christ is the Son of God - and proceeded to live that faith out loud. The two men she loved most, her husband and son, both dismissed and berated her for many years, good Roman citizens that they were. It probably wasn’t the pious and happy future she might have dreamed about on her wedding night, but she did the best she could, using all the graces and peace from the faith she adored, never wavering from her witness to the Catholic faith. We know so much about Monica because, following his conversion, Augustine wove her steady witness into his early-Church tell-all, Confessions. Here’s the thing… we all have something in common with this woman. She lived an ordinary life of faith marked by faithful prayer. That’s been the theme of the Mass readings these past few weeks too… ordinary people of faith doing-the-things-they-need-to-do and saying-the-things-they-need-to-say. Today we have a guy giving Israel some hope as the Babylonians marched into town (Isaiah), another guy who joyfully proclaimed the triumph of God’s judgement, wisdom, and mercy (Paul), and one more who just told things like they were (Peter). Isaiah, Paul, Peter, and Monica were ordinary people who decided to go all-in for the faith. They did not think of themselves as saints, no they did not. That title was bestowed on them later, by those on the outside who looked at what they did and went, “Um. Wow.” But while they were walking this earth, they simply did what they ought to be doing. Which is what we should be doing. #ordinarysaints
In this, the twentieth Sunday of ordinary time, we are still pondering ordinary things that are, actually, extraordinary. Isaiah tells the somewhat sanctimonious Chosen People, “Sorry, you are not the only ones chosen. Those outsiders who keep holy the Sabbath day, follow the 613 moral precepts, and love the One Lord with all their heart, with all their might, and all their strength? Yep, they’re chosen too. Get used to sharing my providence.” About a thousand years later, Paul tells the non-Jewish followers of a very Jewish Jesus, “Hey there, my friends, you’ve seen the uppity-ness of those Chosen People who rejected Jesus, so guess what? In your own outsider chosen-ness, don’t be like them. Show them mercy in their disobedience, as God once showed you mercy in yours. Get used to sharing my mercy.” And Jesus, using an outsider to school his disciples, inscribes a Canaanite woman into his book of miracles and onto his heart, “Oh woman, great is your faith.” How are these stories relevant to our lives? I think you see what the Lord is asking you to do, and it’s a very hard ask. That grace we talked about last week? It will definitely be put to use this week, so if you need a booster dose, head to Adoration or spend some time in prayer before embarking on this mission. Here’s the work of the Lord for us this week: Treat outsiders and insiders exactly the same. Be kind to everyone you meet. Bestow extravagant love upon those who love you back… and those who don’t. Resist the urge to return hurt when served pain-on-a-platter. Forgive, as you have been forgiven. Love, as you have been loved by your Father in heaven. Teach, as Jesus taught you, which means your actions will align with your words. Pray long and hard for the strength, fortitude, and grace to carry out this mission because we’re going to need it. It’s not going to be easy, just like it wasn’t for Isaiah, Paul, or Jesus. But it’s what we are chosen to do. #steadyon
Drama and trauma lurk beneath every reading today. Elijah fearfully hides in a cave from the murder-on-her-mind Queen Jezebel (drama). Paul is heart-broken that his fellow Jews, the Chosen Ones with whom God declared a permanent covenant of law and love, reject Jesus (trauma). Jesus and his disciples have a little of both stirred together: A storm arises (drama) and Peter turns his gaze from Jesus and nearly drowns (trauma). I know we’ve preached this before, that growing as a joyful disciple does not exempt one from the woes & worries and persecutions & problems of life, but it’s a worth pondering in these waning days of summer. You see, If that’s the case, that suffering and persecution in inherent to the life of a disciple, then why bother? I mean, really. It’s not easy to adhere to his moral code and teachings, for sure… and if there’s no earthly reason to let him stake a claim on your heart and in your life, what’s the point? I think that’s where most casual Catholics are right now. There is no instant reward, right?
So why do we spend our earthly lives walking towards the narrow gate? Why follow the narrow path to heaven rather than hop on the highway to hell, when the latter is easier and far more lucrative? That’s a question Elijah and Paul probably asked themselves in the midst of their drama and trauma, and I am pretty sure the question begged the answer. The hope of heaven, right? But there is another – and far more beneficial - answer that helps us in the here-and-now. Grace. What is grace? And undeserved and powerful favor that strengthens and stirs the soul. Grace is what allows us to smile in the face of adversity and keep cool amid the fire of life. It allows us to come out of hiding, like Elijah, and speak of Jesus despite persecution, like Paul. It might even allow us to walk on water, like Peter. Hear the voice of Jesus say to you this week, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” #amazinggrace
There’s a lot of big theological words and profound meaning in the readings today. Words like Ancient One, Son of man, dominion, glory, kingship, justice, judgement, majestic glory, power, honor, and transfiguration. And a depth of meaning: A pure, perfect (white), powerful (fire), and judgmental (court) Ancient One who has an equally glorious Son. This Son does everything his Father asks of him while ruling (dominion) over his own realm; his people love him, being singularly attentive to his message. Whew. That’s a lot of fearsome high-and-mighty going on. And Peter, James, and John unexpectedly take part in the grandeur. If the readings are designed to change our lives and rend our hearts, how might today’s lofty message change or inspire us?
First, we would do well to remember that God the Father and God the Son are of one mind. When Jesus speaks and acts in this world, he channels his heavenly Father. And they are perfect in their power and judgement and love. Heaven and hell do exist, and we should align our actions to that reality. In order to do that, we have to ponder the readings outside of Sunday Mass, and live them out loud.
Second, Peter, James, and John receive a gift, a grace-filled illuminating moment. The Father and Son chose them to participate in something super cool, and yet they were forbidden to tell their fellow disciples. There are times to share our deep encounters of Jesus with others and time to stay silent. How do you know when to share and when to keep quiet? Listen for the promptings of the Lord. How might you hear Him? Spend some time in Adoration or at our new fall Tuesday evening Holy Hour. It takes practice to calm the mind and open the soul to the voice of the Lord. Don’t be discouraged in the silence, but don’t build a tent and camp overnight waiting for a word either. Just be available.
Third, be not afraid… In what the Lord might say to you and what he might ask of you. #asilentholyhour
On my commute into work one morning, I listened to Jeff Cavins give a reflection on the sending out of the disciples two-by-two in order to bring about the kingdom of heaven. At the same time, I drove by the golf course’s electric sign, “Celebrating the Life of ‘John Doe.’” There’s a connection here, and it ties in nicely with today’s readings. You see, we in the church world spend a lot of time bemoaning the evil of culture and its effect on God’s people: Families host ‘celebrations of life’ instead of praying through a funeral Mass? Blame culture. Adults uninterested in a faith life? Distracted by culture. Elected officials legislating the killing of pre-born children and gender-mutilation under the guise of ‘feelings’? A cultural evil. Relegating God and discipline out of public schools, so violence and godlessness is on the rise? A culture of death. Culture is all at fault, yes? Wrong. Here’s the deal. Culture isn’t the enemy, SATAN IS. And so are we, when we let Satan infiltrate our hearts and minds, allowing him to direct our thoughts, words, and deeds.
In today’s readings, Solomon asks for wisdom, Paul reminds us that our purpose is to spread the Good News, and Jesus reminds us that life isn’t about the here-and-now, it’s about the hereafter. When we let Satan dictate our actions and give in to all our self-gratification base desires, we are all over this life and not the next. Hence, it’s only natural that we would celebrate this life’s accomplishments, rather than launching a soul towards heaven. Of course we skip Mass for anything else. It only follows that we forget to tame the body and nurture the soul. We’re deceiving ourselves, really, because all of us have an eternal resting place, whether we believe it or not. Culture lives and moves according to the actions of those who inhabit it. It’s only a culture of death because so many individual souls are the walking dead.
So how do we orient our souls to the Good, True, and Beautiful in order to let grace flow out into action? Prayer. #wieldtheweapon
Over the past few weeks, we’ve heard parables about sowers, fields, crops, and harvests. We know that Jesus’ parables used images of earthly things in order to convey a heavenly meaning and/or a spiritual reality. He used them in order to present His new realities in language they understood.
Today we have a huge upheaval in the “reality” realm. No wonder the disciples asked Jesus to explain the parable in private! You see, Jesus re-names evil from the spiritual satan to a concrete diabolos in today’s Gospel. In the Greek, the parable is a bit longer than our translation. It opens, “An enemy (echthros), a man (anthropos), has done this.” (13:28). When Jesus explains the parable to his disciples, he says that the enemy is the devil (diabolos) – a someone - who falsely accuses and unjustly criticizes in order to hurt, condemn, and sever their relationship with God.
Jesus’ Jewish listeners believed that sâṭân was not a physical being ruling an underworld. In most midrashes (teachings) and practice, sâṭân means to accuse, hinder, or tempt. It is more a temptation or evil doing that keep one from the obligation of tikkun olam (fixing the world); sâṭân is merely an evil inclination one gives into. Remember, the Jewish position right now is that all the dead enter Sheol, an other-worldly and shadowy existence, a space that the holy and unholy occupy together.
Jesus is now telling his Jewish followers that Satan is much more than just an internal evil inclination, and that the holy and unholy have different destinations following death! Say what?! Just as Jesus the Son of God, fully and perfectly took on human form to redeem and teach us how to build holy and fruitful relationships with God and neighbor, Satan wanders the world using humans in order to destroy and sever those same relationships. Jesus will send his angels to collect and burn those evildoers and there will be wailing and grinding of teeth in their fiery furnace. The faithful, however, will be rewarded with the warmth, peace, and grace of Sonshine. Whoever has ears ought to hear. #payattention
The parable of the Sower is super popular. We can all look back on our lives and see where the ravens swooped in before the Word took root in our soul, life boulders and selfish desires prevented us from doing the work of God, or our thorny friends encouraged us to listen to Satan instead of God. It’s a no-brainer when it comes to a rock-solid column (pun intended). I’ve never been one to take the easy way out, so let’s look at this from a different perspective: St. Paul’s. We know he’s a sower, spreading the Word while traveling to Rome, Corinth, Philippi. Thessalonica, Ephesus, and the province of Galatia. We know, like all good farmers, he suffered. The acreage he inherits for his work is varied, like the farms surrounding Hastings; soils vary in the ability to nurture new life. When Paul sets foot on new ground, he gets the lay of the land in order to decide how to sow the Word. He spends time with the people, working alongside them, sitting next to them in synagogue, and getting to know how they are grounded in faith. Are they too acidic? Too peaty? Too chalky? Do they look loamy, but in reality, sand (sin) and clay (habit) lurk just below the surface? Then he begins sowing.
How would Paul be received here at St. Elizabeth’s? Similar to Paphos where they tied him to a pillar and whipped for preaching a new moral life in Jesus? Or at Derbe where they stoned and dragged him out of the city leaving him for dead? Or maybe at Philippi where the crowds incited a riot, stripping and beating Paul and Silas, “severely flogged” and thrown in prison? What would we do to a Sower of the Word? We also must ask then… what is your relationship to the ultimate Sower, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior? How would he view your soul-field? What measure and yield would he imagine it produces? How might you make your soul-soil loamy and rich so that it bears much fruit? #lifelessons
I wrote a piece back in February which never made it to print. Since February is the month we celebrate “love,” the column was about our culture’s free-for-all notion of love and marriage. I quoted Paul’s to the new Christians of Rome, “We are not debtors to the flesh… but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” You see, the Roman culture at the time was anything-goes, much like ours today. Worship of the Roman gods promoted licentiousness; temple orgies and male and female temple prostitutes a were common sight, marriage was a considered a political convenience, and the baths at the public ‘gymnasiums’ were meant to stimulate sexual behaviors. And since the Roman gods were cruel, and worshippers were meant to emulate their gods, well… you get the picture. Cultural ideals of love were not patient, unkind, full of envy, boastful, arrogant, and above all, rejoiced in wrongdoing, in stark contrast to St. Paul’s definition. The Romans were definitely lived according to the flesh, they were chained to all-deeds-of-the-body. All perfectly legal as Roman law was quite lax and lacking in any moral code.
When St. Paul speaks of dying to the flesh in today’s reading, this is the field from which he stands. Our society today resembles the Holy Roman Empire, yes? Paul’s words are still keenly relevant. The power of the Holy Spirit is the strength we need to overcome cultural hedonism. Paul labored to spread the Good News that by following the ways-and-words of Jesus, lives will change for the better. We can overcome culture’s fixation on personal pleasure instead of self-sacrifice in all aspects of our lives only with the help of the Holy Spirit. Not that it will be easy, no, Jesus never promised that. Trouble will follow you as you lead, teach, and preach the Jesus’ moral directives, Satan will see to that. But by allowing Jesus to lead you by attaching yourself to his yoke of grace and strength, humility and meekness, yes, you will find rest even in the midst of plowing your mission fields. #getintrouble
“True freedom is not advanced in the permissive society, which confuses freedom with license to do anything whatever and which the name of freedom proclaims a kind of general amorality,” wrote St. John Paull II in a little-read but very worthwhile Apostolic message he proclaimed to the world to kick off the new year. Jesus’ teachings to his disciples and Paul’s letter to the good people of Rome in our readings today surely must have been swirling around in the back of his mind. Jesus is preparing his disciples for mission here in these few chapters of Matthew’s gospel and Paul in encouraging the new converts in the Eternal City to keep fast to the moral life. It’s a difficult situation in both cases as cultural norms preach the wrong meaning of freedom. JPII goes on to say, “It is a caricature of freedom to claim that people are free to organize their lives with no reference to moral values, and to say that society foes not have to ensure the protection and advancement of ethical values. Such an attitude is destructive of freedom and peace.” Amen, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Amen.
This is also a backdrop to Jesus’ seemingly harsh words directed at his disciples. He’s sending his young followers out into the world to relay his words, heal the infirm, and expel the demons who seek the ruination of souls. They feel slightly unequipped, and, believe it or not, these are words of encouragement to them for they’ve already left their families to follow Jesus and are carrying some pretty heavy crosses. Once sent on mission to proclaim that a life with Jesus is exponentially better than a life without Him, it’s going to get tougher, for dying to self is painful. Sacrifice can hurt. Paul knows that too; he’s constantly in trouble for ‘preaching Jesus’ and the moral way of life. Jesus and Paul didn’t undergo suffering just to gain some sort of reputation, but to save souls and encourage people live an abundant life of joy wrapped in a mantle of peace. That’s authentic freedom. #happyFreedomDay
You have to feel for Jeremiah and Paul. The thing about prophets and evangelists is that the Lord chooses them, usually against their will, to preach a message no one wants to hear. Feels a little like being a Catholic in today’s world, yes? No one wants to believe that God will probe the mind and heart and pass judgement on our actions, even for those who reject his presence (Jeremiah). Very few folks want to engage in a conversation about “sin” and the spiritual death that comes by drowning in its depths, a fate redeemed only by belief in Jesus (Paul). If you know anything about those two men, you’ll know that they were both followed by their enemies, beaten and stoned, and left for dead more than once. Yet they were compelled to keep spreading the Good News. They didn’t let rejection keep them from speaking to others about the joy that comes from knowing life is precious and sacred to Jesus’ heart.
We’ve begun a season of ordinary time, when the humdrum work of real life begins. When we gather as friends and family in small places and open spaces. Where we have the opportunity to slow down to say words of thanksgiving before breaking bread, to ponder the work the Lord has called us to do in the whisper of a soft breeze, or to speak to Jesus in the silence of our hearts before slumber. But the summer of ordinary time is not all gentleness and thoughtfulness, right? Because we are surrounded by people of a different walk, we sometimes have hard conversations of faith talk and that lead to a bit of tension, a feeling that Jesus, Paul, and Jeremiah also know very well. In the ordinary times of their lives they experienced rejection and hatred for their beliefs, just as we do. That should not stop us from making Jesus Christ known and loved, however, for somewhere out there someone is desperate to know the life-giving love of redemption and soul-inspiring gift of hope that a life with Jesus entails. #spreadtheGoodNews
We’re a nation in a fatherhood crisis and St. Paul gives us an insight as to why: “Only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find the courage to die.” The crisis here is that men are sometimes unwilling to die to cultural temptations and professional ambitions to engage and embrace the role that is called fatherhood. And yet, it’s THE most important thing men can do in this world. Need some inspiration?
Lost your job and have a SAHD role? Look into Blessed Charles of Austria. As the last Emperor of Austria - who ended up on the losing side of a war and exiled - Charles and his wife Zita had eight children. He called his loss of the throne “a treasure” as he was able to spend time with his family.
Carrying the weight of single fatherhood? Check out St. Louis Martin, who raised five daughters – the youngest who was 4 - after his wife died of breast cancer. He also buried two toddler sons and three infant daughters before Zelie died. Despite his many losses, his youngest daughter, Thérèse, called him the perfect father.
Taking on fatherhood as a blended family? Google St. Thomas More. Yes, he was executed by Henry VIII defending marriage, but more importantly, he was a loving and supportive father to his own four children and stepfather to his second wife’s daughter. His children recall that he was an affectionate father who gave his daughters the same education as their brothers.
Want to be a father, but it’s not possible? Look to Isidore the Farmer. He and Marie finally had one son who died a young boy. Despite infertility and tragedy, Isidore was known for his joyous attitude, hard labor in the growing fields, and work for the poor.
If spiritual fatherhood is your gig, read up on St. John Paul II, a spiritual father to us all. And Jesus too.
If you are a regular dude just praising God, working away, loving on your wife, and raising some kids, I have amazing news for you: God is most present in the humdrum of life. #saintsinthemaking
It’s hard to dispute what Jesus said: “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat of the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you… For my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.” It’s also hard to wrap my mind around, because the in the original Greek, the language is more certain, more severe, more…. Real. It reads like this: “For the flesh-of-Me - TRUE - is food. And the blood-of-Me - TRUE - is drink. The one eating of Me, the flesh, and drinking of Me, the blood, abides in me and I in him.”
This capitalized word, TRUE, is aléthés, which means unconcealed, true in face, worthy of credit, truthful. This word is capitalized not by me, but by BibleHub, the preeminent academic Greek/English translation site, which is not run by Catholics.
And “the one eating of Me”? The word eating is trógó, which is “to gnaw, munch, or crunch.” There’s no getting around this one, so my non-Catholic friends just ignore it. Or say that Jesus didn’t really mean it. But Jesus rarely said anything he didn’t mean.
So what did the people do next, you wonder? “As a result of this, many [of] his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him. Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?” Simon Peter answered him, “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Jesus doesn’t correct his statement to make it more palatable. Instead, he watches many of his disciples walk away, then asks his twelve if they will walk too. That’s how REAL his statement is.
Which is why we are reverent before the Eucharist, who is Jesus our Lord and Savior. It’s why we treat the Mass with respect, awe, and grandeur. It’s why we genuflect, bow, and kneel before the power and glory of the Eucharist. It’s the whole reason for our worship at Mass. #theEucharistISJesus
Moses had Aaron, Miriam, and Joshua. Paul had Barnabas, Silas and Timothy. Jesus had Peter, James, and John.
What is it about the bonds of friendship? About surrounding yourself with friends who want you to be all that the Lord created you to be? About talking through your struggles and joys in the faith? About praying together? Moses often talked with Aaron and Miriam, always pushing forward in faith despite their “stiff-necked people.” Paul began his journey with Barnabas and then recruited Silas and Timothy to help him in Corinth. Of the twelve, Jesus chose Peter, James, and John to be in his inner friendship circle, revealing to them what he withheld from the others.
Friendship is vital to the success of a mission and to walk the Christian life. We need support and excitement to change a culture for Jesus and the Church. We need a posse of people, both on this earth and in heaven (the saints) to bring about the Kingdom of God to hold us accountable for practicing what we preach. When Paul says, “Rejoice! Mend your ways, encourage one another, agree with one another, and live in peace,” he also speaks of the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, because he knows we can’t walk a faith journey alone. God the Father had his Son and the Holy Spirit – in perfect friendship – to just be.
There is power in friendship and prayer. Power to lead the Israelites to the Promised land and create a new country where worshipping God is first and foremost. Power to infiltrate the Roman Empire and create Christendom where loving on Jesus and treating your neighbor as yourself is the rule of the day. Power to take twelve men of no repute and change the trajectory of the world.
Today we celebrate the Most Holy Trinity, three persons in one God, which is Perfect Friendship. Who are you walking alongside and praying with? Who is in your friendship posse? Are they supporting you in your faith walk and prayer life? Are they encouraging and lifting you up in prayer?
#findyourtribe
At a 2013 Steubenville Youth Conference in Springfield, Missouri, surrounded by 3,000 teens and adults, I palpably felt the power of the Holy Spirit during Adoration and received an infusion of incredible joy that has abided with me ever since. That weekend changed the way I thought of and participated in the Catholic Church; before that experience I went to Mass every Sunday and called myself Catholic, but my Sundays rarely bled into my weekdays and thought Mass was all ritual and impersonal. I believed that if you looked up the word Catholicism in the dictionary it would say “see Rule Followers.” After the conference, whew, not so much. I had a new appreciation – and love - for Jesus in the Eucharist and gosh, if I were to write a description of Catholicism it would say something like, “see AMAZING or FULL OF LIFE or WHAT AN ADVENTURE,” and yes, all in capital letters. From that summer weekend in 2013, it’s been quite the journey. I left academics for parish life, renewed my love of the Word, took my responses during Mass to heart, started writing again, and delved into all-things-Catholic.
Here’s the thing. I didn’t actually want to go to that conference. I only went because I’d heard about these conferences, wanted my daughter to go, and they needed an E3 certified parent to come along. I would rather have just sent my daughter, like all the other parents. But no, she really wanted me to come along. Working-mother that I am, I felt the “Catholic Guilt” of being away so much so I reluctantly signed up. God the Holy Spirit smiled. And here we are today.
The Holy Spirit goes where it wants and when it wills, which is why its nickname is the Wild Goose. The Holy Spirit dwells within us at our baptism and is activated at our Confirmation if the soul is open and docile. It is a powerful Advocate. Two men will receive the sacrament of Confirmation today, and I can hardly wait to see how the Spirit will move in their lives. How about yours? #GoHolySpiritGo
I want to take a look at the process that led to the ‘hope’ and ‘glory’ of the Ascension this week, and ponder suffering for a minute. The early disciples, who spent their lives building up the kingdom of God whatever their state/profession in life was, still suffered despite the Easter promise. The question posed to Jesus about the time of his return had a hint of desperation about it. “When, Lord, will you return?” they wanted to know, because a Christian life was difficult and treacherous, and persecution-unto-death was expected.
We too sometimes have a hint of desperation abut us. As authentic disciples, our truth is maligned and twisted in the media, we are hurt by choice words from our fallen-away children, chastised by the banal words of those in power, and ostracized from certain social circles. It hurts. Especially when the pain comes from those we love the most.
There are also physical pains of desperation. Ones of growing older, like arthritis, Parkinson’s, or dementia. Or the sudden suffering of migraines or cancer, no matter what our age. Suffering cares not a whit for age or infirmity.
Loving on Jesus - knowing that we will be with him again, doing the work of making more disciples as he asks us to do - does not mean we won’t suffer. It means we can use suffering to our advantage. It’s not senseless, you know. Suffering has merit. We can offer it up for souls in purgatory. We can use it for our own sanctification. It’s a reminder to be grateful when we’re not in pain. We can wield it as a witness to Jesus.
But most of all, we can let Jesus into our suffering. We can allow him to transform it to be a shining witness to the faith for all to see. Like the early Christians. They knew in their hearts that heaven was real and held no suffering, just Love. Peace. Friendship. Jesus. They held on to the hope that life is fleeting and suffering is transient, so they were joyful disciples amidst their drama and trauma. Something we can learn from them. #transcendsuffering
There is a woman out there whom the Father loves…
… who has an unplanned and unexpected pregnancy, like Jesus’ mother Mary; at sixteen she found herself with child and a fiancée who didn’t want to marry her after all.
… who cares for children she didn’t give birth to, like Elizabeth Ann Seton; she took in her 7 nieces and nephews, in addition to their own five children.
… who spiritually cares for children she did not carry, like Edith Stein; after earning a PhD in philosophy she accepted a simple position nurturing souls at an all-girls school.
… who wants to have children but cannot conceive, like Elisabeth Leseur; she suffered a deep longing for children but weathered the weight of infertility.
… who wanted children but chose childlessness as a sacrifice, like Maria García Zavala; a young woman who longed for a husband and children but realized that God was calling her to religious life.
… who has a child in heaven, like Gianna Molla; a pediatric physician who lost two children to miscarriage.
… who is bearing single-parenthood, like Helena; after 20 years of marriage her husband, Emperor Constantious, he publicly divorced her for a much younger woman.
… who deeply desire a husband and children but neither are apparent yet, like Zélie Martin; she owned a successful lace business before finding Louis at age 27 and he was 35
… who wears widowhood as a cross, like Paula; when her beloved husband died, his absence plunged her into deep mourning.
… who tends to hearth and home raising children alongside her spouse, like Maria de la Cabeza; she and her husband Isadore farmed an acreage while raising children.
… who balances a family and a career, like Maria Quattrocchi or Dorothy Day; the first had the advantage of a loving husband while the latter did not.
There is a woman out there whom the Father loves… and that woman is you.
I wonder which gifts/charisms that Stephen, Philip and their five companions brought to the early church, and why The Twelve chose them to “wait on tables” for the widows. The early church had a two-fold reason for caring for these women: (a) Jesus asked them to, and (2) Timothy tells us that widows often served the church faithfully (1 Timothy 5:10) and most of them needed their own TLC in order to serve. Waiting on tables doesn’t concern the actual serving of food and cleaning of tables, it speaks of handling the practical administration of the financial and practical details. Remember when Jesus overturned the tables in the Temple courtyard? A ‘table’ at that time meant a place where a money changer did his collecting or exchanging of money. For these seven men, their new role would be to manage/administer the care of widows. It was such an important ministry that Luke felt it important to include in his account of a growing church.
Remember, Christianity is born out of Judaism… the care of widows and orphans was an important part of Jewish life, and it was up to the Temple authorities to organize the distribution of food to these women. Now, because of the division between the followers of Jesus and those who rejected Him, a new process of care for Jesus-loving widows in the “Christ-following” sector need arise.
The Hellenists are Greek-speaking Jews. The Hebrews are Hebrew-speaking Jews. Both groups follow Jesus. This is an internal issue in a growing and vibrant church. Someone needs to step up and solve it. Which leads me back to my original question: I wonder what gifts these men brought to the table (pun intended) in that they were called to take on this new and necessary role? A charism of Administration? Counsel? Helps?
These are some of the same charisms that the Lord bestowed on us in baptism, strengthened at Confirmation. Charisms are fruitful for both the giver and the receiver only when building up the Kingdom. What charisms are on your table and how might you use them? #tablegifts
It’s been awhile since I’ve written about my Dad, but you should know he’s living his best life. His little apartment is “just dandy,” the staff is “pretty darn nice,” and he comes over to my place four times a week for the long afternoon into evening. We play dominoes and pray the rosary at 3:00pm together. Or he’ll sit in a sunspot on my deck watching the birds and squirrels, dozing on-and-off. That’s not to say he doesn’t suffer. He has nightmares that sometime walk with him during the daylight hours, blurring reality. He shakes a bit and pulls a muscle here and there. He rails against this “god-forsaken mind disease” when he’s introduced to other men his age, reminding him that he needs a little more care than some. But he rarely complains. I am reminded of my Dad today in both St. Peter’s first letter to the struggling Christians in Asia Minor and Jesus’ words to the eager but ordinary Jews, “I came so that they may have life, and have it more abundantly.”
It would seem that suffering precludes this idea of an abundant life, that somehow following Jesus means daisies, bell-bottoms, and peace signs. Or at least a well-stocked pantry, work you enjoy, and a “life is good” t-shirt. Or a clean bill of health, a reasonable mortgage, and someone to share your good news with. Alas. Jesus suffered for us and we suffer for him. It’s the exitus-reditus circle of life, for holiness comes no other way. The thing is… A young enthusiastic Peter stands in front of his colleagues and invites them into a life of discipleship, a life that involves intense persecution from Nero. They are baptized by the thousands. An older life-lived Peter still encourages those who are beaten and abused to stand firm in the faith and be grace and peace in the world. Suffer well. Listen to the Shepherd. Be like the Shepherd. Live life abundantly, exactly where you are, over and above the trials that come your way. Live your best life. #liveHislife
The Road to Emmaus. This real-life Jesus story is my all-time favorite, as it has all of my feel-good triggers: mystery, Jesus, conversation, dinner, and a sadness-turned-to-joy can-you-believe-it ending. It simply doesn’t get any better than this. And the small sometimes-unnoticed details, which make it worth the telling. You see, Cleopas and his companion, disciples of Jesus, had been with him for some time. Long enough that they were among the hunted by the authorities; they’re creating some distance between them and the chaos of the cross, and heading underground… or at least out of the reach of the religious law. These two are conversing and debating along the way, and although we don’t know what exactly they are saying, it probably has something to do with the events of the past and how it now dictates their future. Just like all of us who deal with bad news and catastrophic events that we don’t understand.
You see, they saw, heard, and felt it all. These two witnessed the crucifixion from a distance and knew where Jesus was buried. They were with “the group” when Mary Magdalene and company returned in joy from the empty tomb and their encounter with the Risen Lord. They went to look for themselves and found things just as the women had described, but no Jesus. And then? Nervous, scared, and incredulous, they walked. Unable to absorb the testimony of the women and trust in the process, they walked away from Jesus. And all his promises. Just like all of us who cannot fathom why bad things happen to good people and the shock of a new reality.
Thankfully, Jesus didn’t give up them, just like he doesn’t give up on us. We might not see him clearly in our daily dramas, but He sees our tears and frustrations. He’s listening in the midst of our conversation with friends. He is absolutely present - body, blood, soul, and divinity – in the Eucharist. He dispenses mercy in confession, and soul-soothing grace for the journey. Don’t walk away from that. Lean in. Take part in our mission tonight. #adventureswithBart
Shalom aleichem. Peace be with you. It’s the phrase Jesus spoke upon finding the disciples hidden in the upper room behind locked doors, and one deep with a meaning lost on us English speakers. At its root, shalom denotes wholeness or completeness, and throughout Jewish literature is bound up with the notion of perfection. Shalom isn’t a feeling or just a greeting. It’s a way of life. A blessing. A manifestation of divine grace. It is true that it is the overcoming of strife, quarrel, social tension, or war, but so much more. It is tranquility and harmony. Safety and security. Contentment. Soundness and prosperity. It means to be one with your neighbor and with your God. Neil Plantinga wrote that shalom, “means universal flourishing, wholeness, and delight—a rich state of affairs in which natural needs are satisfied and natural gifts fruitfully employed, a state of affairs that inspires joyful wonder as its Creator and Savior opens doors and welcomes the creatures in whom He delights.”
It is shalom that the early Christian communities embodied in their actions. These first followers of Jesus banded together through the witness and words of those men who once cowered behind locked doors, and embraced a mission which transformed the social, religious, and political landscape. They prayed fervently and honestly. Broke bread with one another and shared with those who had none. Sold their property and possessions in order to care for those who went without. Despite persecution by the Jewish authorities and the Romans, they lived a joy-filled faith out loud. They embraced this new life… and lived it abundantly.
Isn’t that what we want here? An abundant life? A beautiful adventure? A radical encounter with Jesus and then our neighbor? A community where others notice we are a Church on fire with the Holy Spirit, rejoicing “with an indescribable and glorious joy,” and want to be a part of it? Bart Schuchts will be here in a few weeks to fan our flames. Clear your calendar and be here. You won’t regret it. Shalom, my friends. #shalomaleichem
When I was a wee whisp of a girl, I owned a pair of Cher-inspired bell bottom jeans. Sitting low on the hips and wide at the bottom, with a couple of peace-sign appliqués, they were my favorite. I wore them everywhere and begged my Mom to wash them while I was sleeping so that they were available each morning. It was the late 60’s and early 70’s, you see, and bell bottoms were “it” and Cher was my “It Girl.” I wore my hair long and straight, flashed peace signs at friends, and memorized the lyrics to “I Got You Babe.” I looked absolutely nothing like Cher physically, but wanted to get as close as possible to her look-and-feel. I was “Cher-struck,” as it were.
As an adult, I still do the same thing. We all do, but we call this person something different: a mentor. Corporations spend a good chunk of change pairing new hires with wisened long-timers in order to form young recruits to their corporate culture. Simon Sinek, the current leadership-in-the-workplace influencer for young adults, believes everyone has a mentor, knowingly or not… for good or for not. Someone you follow because you believe what he/she believes. Someone whose habits you adopt because he/she shares your vision for the world. Someone you have a heart for because he/she shares the same “why” you do-what-you-do.
For all of us sitting in the pews this Easter morning, that person is Jesus Christ. Yes? It’s a #pondering and #invitation question for you, an Easter gift. How do you resemble Jesus? How often do you seek him for advice? Do you read his words for inspiration and direction? Do you let his joy and peace animate your day?
Are you tired and weary of the darkness in this world? Saddened by the violence? Shocked by depth of hatred? The casting aside of human dignity? Yes? Want to be immersed in true happiness, authentic love, abundant friendship, and strength-for-your-storms? Attend our Bart Schuchts event or look at our Adult Formation webpage for anything that piques your interest. Come and see. #chooseJesusasyourmentor
In February and March, I (and 11 other parishioners/staff) traveled to St. Joe’s in Mieseville each Tuesday evening to hear Jeff Cavins speak about how to grow deeper in our faith. Emerging from the 3-year Synod process, we’re entering the “implementation” phase; 12 people from every single parish are in training to help launch small group ministry in their respective communities. We’re ahead of the game here at St. Elizabeth’s, as for the past five years we’ve been using Evangelical Catholic (EC) to dive deeper into our own faith lives and then draw and help others on their own faith journey. As Jesus asked.
EC is a unique and delightful experience. We’ll be hosting a 12-week session on Tuesday evenings this Fall, so start your discernment now, as I might come knocking at your faith door with an invitation to ‘something more.’ That ‘something more’ is to be more and more like Jesus the Christ, our Savior. To act like him. To talk like him. To be like him. To suffer like him. To rock the world like him. Bart Schuchts, our guest presenter at the end of April will also help us do just that. His life’s work, after a Saul-to-Paul-like conversion experience, is to lead us deeper into our faith and spur us into action. As Jesus did.
Like Jesus did. Our readings today reveal the tough side of being like Jesus. If we re-orient our lives and radiate the love of the Jesus to the world, well… we will be misunderstood by some. We will be ostracized by friends, both in our professional and faith worlds. We will fall to our knees and cry, “Is this what you really want of me, Lord?” We could lose our livelihood. There might not be many who remain standing alongside us. We could be crucified in certain circles and mocked by random people. As Jesus was.
However. Spoiler alert! It’s so worth it! Not just in our reception into total goodness, truth, and beauty of the hereafter, but even in the new friends and companions we’ll meet along the way. It’s in the new life we’ll lead, with grace, love, peace and joy animating any suffering we endure. It’s watching others enter that new life too and sharing in their joy. Palm Sunday is not the end of the story, my friends, it’s the beginning of an amazing journey. As Jesus wants. #presson
While on pilgrimage in Jerusalem, I stood inside the tomb of Lazarus. Dark, damp, and calm, it represented a time of “waiting in mystery.” That was our theme for the trip; our gathering sessions each evening reflected things historically discovered and mysteriously uncovered in the heart. Each soul had an individual story, a different reaction, and distinct insight to standing inside Lazarus’ tomb, for that is how the Lord works in our lives, tailoring revelation to each unique and beloved creation of His. The Lord meets us where we are… only to draw us deeper into the mystery of a new path with Him. That is why our Lents look so different and our small group conversations so varied. And yet we learn from each other’s experiences, which makes our Lenten journey so beautiful and transformative. We’re approaching the end of our self-inflicted sacrifices, as next week we’ll open with Palm Sunday and Jesus’ crucifixion, then enter into the mysteries of the Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday). Like Lazarus awaiting his call to depart the grave, we too now await the Spirit of the Lord to call our names. Listening to the promise of Ezekiel, we wait for the Lord to put his spirit within us so that we may live authentic lives of discipleship. Hearing the words of the Apostle Paul, we too desire to be alive in the spirit. And like Lazarus, we too want to be free of our darkness and joyfully enter into a new life with Jesus the Christ, the Lord of all. There is still time to prepare, still time to die-to-self, still time to consider how you want to wait for your resurrection day. What gifts do you want to share, which virtues do you want to practice, and what legacy do you want to leave behind? For the Lord will call us each by name from the darkness of our hand-hewn tombs one day. Like Lazarus, who didn’t know when the Lord would call his name, wait patiently this week in the calm of darkness and the quiet of mystery.
It’s overcast outside as I ponder the readings today. A particular darkness that comes with the daytime is present, and a thick fog shrouds the roads. It’s not until we’re right on top of things that we can see them clearly - and even then we’re not sure if that was a deer by the side of the road or a fallen tree trunk, or a figment of our imagination. Since my husband was hit by a deer earlier this winter, I tend to see shadows of things that might not be there on the commute. That seems to mirror our readings this weekend and my Lent in general: things unclear in the distant darkness that suddenly come to light. “Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance, but the Lord looks into the heart,” says the Lord to the learned Samuel who is wanting one of Jesse’s strong and strapping elder sons to replace the failing Saul as leader of the Israelites. The Lord reveals that he sees straight to the heart and has thus found the future king of Israel, a mere child tending to the sheep in the light of the day.
Paul writes to some of his favorite people in the town of Ephesus, “You were once in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light, for light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth.” It’s their heart that Paul (and the Lord) sees, and the actions that follow. They have stepped out of the fogginess of Roman culture and into the light of faith, but their work is not done. They need to #speaklife and stand tall in the darkness where they see it.
Which is exactly what the small and insignificant blind man does to the powerful Pharisee in the Gospel today. He stands alone in the darkened space as a light to Jesus, speaking the truth of the matter. He sees clearly the gift given. He recognizes the fog clouding the heart of the learned and tries to dispel it. #bealighthouse
Our readings thus far in Lent have been ones of relational intimacy and transformation. Ash Wednesday had the Lord peering into the inner workings of our heart. The First Sunday of Lent found the soul-giving animation of man by the spirit of God, and the breaking of God’s heart through sin. We brought those two ideas with us into the Second Week with the power of friendship and its ability to transform a life, for good or for ill. And now we get an inside look at the gentleness of Jesus as he approaches the woman at the well; their encounter is a part of every retreat I lead, for we are all like this woman whose past choices weigh on the current situation, some of which may not have been our fault.
The ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, once wrote, “Change is the only constant in life.” Indeed, if one is a serious student of philosophy, we say that each moment, each minute, each second - each nano-second - of life is new, as we bear each previous experience into the present one. Pretty heady thought, yes? And yet each moment of our lives is an opportunity to let the past define us… or to step into something radically different. Free will and grace make that possible.
But it’s not easy. Simple, yes. Easy, no. Moses is leading a people who yearn for the old because the new way is too difficult and unpredictable. Paul’s new Christians in Rome have only hope and the Holy Spirit to rely on, as they lose their livelihood to the authorities and their lives to wild animals. The Gospel recounts the initial difficulty of our woman at the well, whose life is defined by the religious constructs and social connivances of her past. It’s a very intimate encounter; Jesus and she alone at the well, identities revealed and souls laid bare. What does Jesus see deep within in your soul? What wounds does Jesus seeks to heal in your life? What relationship does Jesus want to have with you? How deep are you willing to go? #constantchange
Here we go again, the theme of friendship. It’s a word that conjures up many emotions, depending on your level of understanding and where you are on this journey. If you’re in middle- or high-school it’s a word often fraught with peril. College? Imbedded with joy… and perhaps a few smiles of I-can’t-believe-I-made-it. Young adult? You might be navigating a new reality wondering how to create authentic friendship. Family? You rely on friends to keep you above water. Aging? You watch your friends sail away to the “white shores of the great beyond” with a whirling emotions including emptiness, longing, and some joy. Our friendships change as our life needs change, though some seem to be in it for the long haul.
In the organized and hierarchical world of Thomas Aquinas, filios (authentic friendship that wills the good of the other) was one of the highest forms of love, just below the agape (sacrificial self-gift) love that Jesus had. Friendship is powerful, yes? Friends often determine a course of action or a movement of life, either for good or for ill. Truth: Friendship matters.
Abram takes his wife Sarai and his nephew Lot on his mysterious and drama-laden adventure with God in our first reading. Paul calls Timothy, his dear friend and new pastor, “Beloved,” for that is what Timothy is, a beloved friend on a faith journey who must step into a burdensome leadership role overseeing a fledgling faith community. Jesus separates his friends Peter, James, and John for an encounter of a most intimate kind: a glimpse into the awe-inspiring what-willbe of this life should they continue on the tumultuous and unexpectedly difficult journey with Jesus. These three appear in the disquieting Garden of Gethsemane too. Everyone needs a small group of friends they can trust with their secrets, their struggles, and their joys. Even Jesus.
Perhaps this week you take a long hard look into your circle of friends to see where they are leading you. Are they alongside you as you become a joyful disciple who makes Jesus Christ known and loved? Or holding you back? #morefriendship
Driving northward after Mass last weekend, I noticed that sections of the fence between the north- and south-bound lanes of Hwy 61 are in grave need of repair. There have been a few fatal missteps along that route this winter and it shows. Sometimes it’s folks driving too fast for conditions or distracted by the sound of their phones or not paying attention in general. Other times it’s not their fault, things *happen* and before they know it, they’re in the ditch and unable to move. Still, the fence is damaged.
That’s the gist of the readings today as we enter Lent, yes? Action and consequence, sometimes unintended. The laws are in place for our protection, but we – okay, at least yours truly – think that it won’t matter if I speed a bit or respond to a text or take a phone call. It’s the same in our faith journey. It won’t matter that much when I ditch my morning prayers for work, am subtly cruel in a response when I could have been kind or engage in my favorite bad habit. A few fatal missteps, as it were. No big deal, right? I hit the proverbial fence, again and again and again… and now that I got a good look at it? It’s in grave need of repair. It wasn’t always my fault, mind you, sometimes I got caught in the aftermath of someone else’s poor decision, but I didn’t handle it well and hit the fence nonetheless.
Lent is the time we look at our habits and correct our behaviors; it’s our time to repair the fence that keeps us out of oncoming traffic and certain death. Lent is a safety feature of the liturgical year, one that we shouldn’t ignore. The broken sections (choices and habits) of my life need repairing in order for me to fulfill my mission: to be a joyful disciple who makes Jesus Christ known and loved. I hope you join me over the course of the next 40 days for some “fence repair.” Our eternal lives depend on it. #hammerandnails
Jesus continues to explain and expand particular Leviticus rules and regulations following the explosive Sermon on the Mount. Everyone listening must be shaking their heads. If I were sitting on my blanket in the crowd, listening to Jesus’ words, the internal dialog that goes through my head might be: This. Is. Impossible. And sooooo not what the rabbis teach. Even now, reading and re-reading the Gospel today… pondering… thinking… trying to weave the words into the fabric of my world, the word ‘impossible’ seems to be floating in and out of the things I need to do here in my life. Satan wants us to think that, you know.
From the very beginning Satan wanted us to be divided from family and friends and speak ill of others. God gave Moses this directive: “Though you may have to reprove your friend, do not incur sin because of him. Take no revenge and cherish no grudge. Love your neighbor as yourself.” Sometimes this is a difficult tightrope walk. I have a post-it note taped to my computer, with a quote from Pope Paul VI’s The Church in the Modern World, “[I]t is necessary to distinguish between error, which always merits repudiation, and the person in error, who never loses the dignity of being a person… (28). This helps me immensely in my email responses to others in need of fraternal correction, although I sometimes fall short, especially when my pride and sanctimonious nature get in the way. Still, this little sentence might be helpful in our mission to live out Jesus’ words to not resist evil, turn the other cheek, be generous, love your neighbors who disagree with the Church’s moral directives, and pray for those who persecute us. Naturally, we need some help here, and this is why friendship is so important. Sometimes I need to be called on the carpet to change my ways, and receiving that correction is best from those we love and admire. Ash Wednesday is this week but there’s still time to find a friend or two who will walk alongside you on your Lenten journey. #phoneafriend
Fr. Mark Toups recorded a lovely homily series on walking through our “seasons of life” this past January. He said all seasons have three things in common: a definite beginning and end, a particular personality, and something the Lord wants to say to us. He also repeated a phrase that I have been pondering: “There is a difference in waiting for God and waiting WITH God.” Today’s readings are settling in alongside this phrase for me, because, frankly, the readings are pretty tough. “If you choose, you can keep the commandments and they will save you… before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him,” writes Sirach. He’s looking at things like keeping the Lord the center of your life, worshipping God each Sunday, not using vulgarity in speech, valuing and protecting life and your marriage vows, being honest in speech and deed, and nurturing gratitude for what God has already bestowed and blessed you with. There are only 10 commandments, but they wholistically define the Christian life. We get to choose to follow them or not (free will), but our choices will define what-happens-now and what-comes-next. Sirach adds that God sees the heart in every deed and he does not give us license to sin. In other words, there’s no rationalizing our sin. When you stand before the Lord on judgement day, “everyone else was believing/doing it” won’t cut it. Yes, God dispenses mercy, but God also wields justice for the unborn, the elderly, the vulnerable, and the sacrament of marriage (Happy Valentine’s Day!). Jesus then cuts to the heart: make peace with your family and colleagues, be chaste in your thoughts, and no manipulating or changing the laws of God. WHEW! I don’t know about you, but I need friends to help me live out these words of Jesus. We’re quickly approaching the season of Lent. It has a beginning and an end (Feb. 22 – April 6), a repentant personality, and the Lord definitely has something to say to us. We’re asking you to join an online or in-person group or grab some friends and DIY using resources we provide. #embraceCHANGE
I made one of my last trips to Iowa, finally bringing my Dad to Minnesota where I can keep a weather eye on the storm that is dementia. I’ve gotten use to the roads now, especially the ever-frequented “Bob’s Road.” The formal name of the road doesn’t matter. If I’ve never been on it before, it’s at least partially paved, and surrounded by farm fields, it’s “Bob’s Road.” If I were drawing a map of the roads between Mahtomedi and Cedar Rapids, you’d see Bob’s Road written a lot. It seemed every time I ventured south, there was always a road closure, a wrong turn, or an accident causing a detour. I’m never lost, mind you, I am just discovering a new way to get to where I need to be.
It's a little like the faith life, yes? Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel to be salt of the earth and light for the world, but he didn’t leave us the precise GPS route of every turn nor how many miles to keep straight, for the Lord is not limited in creativity nor by generosity. There are many ways to lead others to Jesus, many paths to discern your own role in passing along the joy of the faith, and a ton of people looking at your witness… the way you carry yourself, the words you speak with, the actions you do as a follow of Jesus. People look to see if you are salt of the earth or a light for the world. Jesus is watching too.
Jesus is ready for you to talk about your faith with friends, as salt for the earth. He’s looking at you to lead others, to hold your faith lamp brightly so others can find you. The practicalities of “how” that happens is left to you and the Holy Spirit. Like my many sojourns into Iowa, the path of evangelization (sharing the faith) is different for everyone. The first steps can be unsettling; those first few miles on Bob’s Road took some getting used to, I know. But what an adventure it will be. #saltandlight
January 28 is the feast day of St. Thomas Aquinas, one of the most brilliant minds in all of history. It was also the birthday of my mentor, Dr. Don Briel, co-founder of the Center for Catholic Studies at the University of St. Thomas. Briel’s life-work was the integration of faith and reason, much like Aquinas. Both men now occupy the heavenly realm and I imagine, if rational conversation can occur where union with God is possible, the two of them debating various premises and conclusions in theological arguments. It’s also likely that St. John Henry Newman makes it an intellectual trifecta. Newman’s life work was as an apologist for Catholicism, but his true heart lay in explaining the purpose of higher education. For Newman, channeling Aquinas, the sole purpose of education is to teach men and women how to think, how to spot a flaw in a premise or a philosophical error in a conclusion. For if you teach a man to think, then you keep him from chasing after every whim and fancy of thought presented by the masses and falling into heresy, or worse, habitual sin. Faith and education are a union, a union with a profound ability to elevate culture. “A person with a well-trained intellect is a useful person, socially and in every other way,“ he writes. “Such persons raise the intellectual tone of society, cultivate taste, public spiritedness, give enlargement and sobriety to the ideas of an age, and refine private life.” A young person who receives an education focusing on growth in virtue, service, and intellectual training is able to change not only the course of his life, but the very fabric of society. Our patron saint, Elizabeth Ann Seton, also knew the gravity and power of the Catholic faith and education, devoting most of her life to the intellectual and spiritual formation of children. She taught Zephaniah’s urging to observe the law of God, seek justice, and practice humility. She sang today’s psalm of the poor in spirit. She believed Paul’s words that God chose the weak to shame the strong. And above all, she lived out Jesus’ Beatitudes, modeling them for her students. #Catholicschoolsforthewin
Last week I wrote about how the Synod and our work of evangelization here will blend seamlessly together in our mission to be joyful disciples and spread the Good News through small groups. Lent begins in about a month, and I can’t encourage you enough to start thinking about three or four friends – in addition to those you see here on Sundays - who need to know more about Jesus and rekindle their faith.
Here’s the thing: it’s weird and awkward to ask. You can’t say to a non-church friend, “Hey, want to walk a faith journey with me?” without having them eye you suspiciously, doubt your sanity, or simply walk away. In thinking about evangelization, we use the motto “meet people where they are.” So maybe you invite a couple of friends over to catch up on life. Or ask a friend to help hold you accountable to that morning walk. The space and time don’t matter, only the friendship and conversation. If we were living in the time of Isaiah we could start meandering down Main Street saying, “Our anguish, gloom, and distress have come to end! We who have walked in the darkness of sin have seen a great light!” Or at the time of Paul we could write letters: “Dear brothers and sisters, let’s be united in this work of protecting the dignity of life from the moment of conception onward, in the same mind and purpose!” Or be like Jesus and gather crowds, “Repent! The Kingdom of heaven is at hand!” Alas, none of those options will help us today.
Here’s the other thing: You know people who are struggling, wounded, or lost, and need a friend to guide them… someone who can help see them through the messiness of their lives and offer them the peace, hope, and joy that is found in a life following Jesus. Isaiah is right: Jesus brings us abundant joy with great rejoicing, for He lightens our burdens, redirects our poor choices, and forgives our sins so that we can be happy, healthy, and whole again. Now who doesn’t want that Good News? #starttheconversation
I’ve always loved to write letters. Perhaps that’s why I love St. Paul. He writes to the early Christian communities in the cities of Rome, Colossae, Thessalonica, Corinth, and one to the general province of Galatia. In every instance, his letters are in response to the general messiness and particular issues of a Church struggling against an openly hostile culture, a culture where speaking the Truth brings immediate retribution and retaliation. Hmmm. Sound familiar? Monsignor James Shea, president of the University of Mary (Bismarck) wrote a little book titled, “From Christendom to Apostolic Mission” that took the evangelical Catholic subculture by storm. Msgr, Shea details the signs and reasons why we are no longer living in a world called Christendom, and why evangelization and the passing on of the faith must look and feel like it did in the early Church led by the apostles. Which leads me back to Paul, an apostle himself. I often say, “If you want to see what the early church looked like, read the letters of Paul, since they were written before the four Gospels and are honest portrayals of Christian life.” They argued over worship practices, neglected the poor, and were imperfect in moral rectitude. Following Jesus and doing the will of God can be messy. Also familiar? To cap off our three-year Synod, Archbishop Hebda just wrote us a letter – you and me – on where the Church is going in the next few years. The first year’s focus is quite similar to the work we’ve already been doing here: launching small group ministries! You see, we’ve long recognized that we now live in an apostolic age, a time and space where the name and message of Jesus needs to be joyfully spread, a-few-people-at-a-time in small cozy spaces where people gather in friendship and conversation. That’s where new (or returning) followers of Jesus will be found, not here in Mass. Paul exhorts the people of Corinth to spread the Good News - that a life with Jesus is a beautiful adventure - in their own friendship circles. Archbishop Hebda, Fr. Dave, and Deacon Rod ask you to do the same. #whowillyoutell?
Who’s coming to look for Jesus these days and where will they find Him? It’s a loaded question, I know. Sometimes – most times - I don’t like the answer. I’ve been sharing the results of last November’s PEW survey, “Modeling the Future of Religion in America” and its shocking prediction. The PEW researchers looked at past numbers of self-identifying Christians, how faith is transmitted, fertility trends, immigration statistics, the ‘trust’ factor, and of course, the current responses of the people. If all aspects continue their given trajectory, Christians will be a minority population by 2070, perhaps sooner. We see it happening. Our adult children are not practicing any faith, public schools and universities reject and condemn any notion of Christian morality or ethics, and culture at large tends to silence biblical Truths and reprimand its heralds. So what’s the good news, you might be wondering? Besides job security for us evangelists, there are so many opportunities and avenues to spread the really Good News: Following Jesus, the Son of a good and gracious God, making the Word your center, purpose, and reason for existence, can change your life. There are a good many people who could benefit from a search for Jesus and finding his joyful disciples here. Which leads to another set of questions: Are we stranger-friendly here? Are you a joyful disciple of Jesus? Are you asking someone to walk alongside you on your faith journey to encounter Him? Are you prepared to share your Catholic faith? These are the questions we will answer this year, if you come looking for Jesus here. The campus will start to look a little different with new signage this Spring. We’re hosting a Parish Mission with the light-your-faith-on-fire Bart Schuchts in April. We’ll be offering another session of Evangelical Catholic, running a Called & Gifted program, and promoting our array of small group ministries as part of the Archdiocesan Synod. We’ll have plenty of opportunities for folks to look for Jesus this year. The question is, “Will they find him here at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton?” And that, my friends, is up to you. #beliketheMagi
As a convert, I never really appreciated Our Lady. I understood the whole “perpetual virginity” thing. As a young woman bearing and birthing children of my own, I could see how conception by the power of the Holy Spirit, an uncomplicated pregnancy, a dramatic birth, and the amazing events that soon followed, would leave a girl who spent a lot of time reflecting in her heart to shy away from something as benign as physical intimacy with a man. When I returned to school to study Hebrew and Greek as an older adult, I learned that this Greek word, adelphoi, translated as brothers was used to indicated kinsman or covenantal brothers and sisters in Christ (see Acts 1:14). Totally made sense to me. But her depiction in art was always so… unrealistic.
But here we are today, celebrating the strong and courageous woman that National Geographic calls, “The Most Powerful Woman in the World,” (Dec. 2015). The official title of the day is “Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God,” which is quite a title, though I admit partiality to NatGeo’s, because she is the most powerful woman in the world. Who else would appear throughout time and within physical space, leaving love notes to us all, reminding us that Someone loves us? Who else could put Band-Aids on the world’s scrapes, applying the balm of peace with a kiss of compassion, preparing the wound for the grace of healing by her Son? Who else might see the approaching consequences of our thinking-only-of-ourselves actions and intercede on our behalf to One who has the ability to change the course of history? Yep, that would be Our Lady, whom, I imagine, has been underappreciated by more than a few folks since the day of her conception, and who really doesn’t mind the slight. She just keeps doing-what-she-does, continually converting hearts and saving souls for Jesus, maybe even invoking the prayer of her childhood: May the Lord bless you and keep you, May the Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you. #theworkofamotherisneverdone
Laura's article will return on January 1, 2023.
My Dad has been in a Memory Care facility in Iowa since the end of October. He was admitted out of necessity, during a period of mental fatigue and physical distress on the part of my Mom. It was a surprise to me, since I was otherwise preoccupied with the business of death and new life during those weeks and wasn’t attentive to the quickly deteriorating situation of my parents. I thought we were following “the plan” we’d made in September, which was to bring my Dad to a facility near my home; that deposit was sent, the room reserved, and we were simply awaiting a move-in date. Alas. A sudden sickness here, an emotional whirlwind there, and before I knew it, my brother called to say he was on his way to the Iowa facility with my Dad. This wasn’t the plan at all. I was afraid. I imagine Ahaz and Joseph from the readings today felt the same way. Ahaz knows his forces should go up against their well-armed enemies in the Syro-Ephraimite war but is afraid of the outcome, so he won’t ask God for a sign. Joseph knows he should still take Mary as his wife, but is afraid of the future and neglects to ask God for a sign. Instead, both Ahaz and Joseph make naturally human decisions in the midst of chaos and desperation. I get them. I really do.Yet the Lord has a way of bring supernatural peace, hope, and calm into chaos, despite our fear of the future. Twice this month I’ve said to friends whose blown-up life plans came to surprisingly happy ends, “God writes straight with crooked lines,” and it’s true. In the midst of our self-inflicted and naturally-human decisions, God intervenes to make the right things happen. Ahaz and his forces win the war, and Joseph and Mary birth our Salvation. There is so. much. JOY. in each unpredicted outcome. And relief, hope, and peace. For me too. The Lord has intervened in my drama and I have renewed hope for bringing my Dad here to MN. #crookedlines
Love is risky business. Brené Brown, the leading cultural guru on relationships, often speaks on the power of vulnerability and its ability to lead one deeper into a relationship of love with another. Raised as Catholic but now an Episcopalian, I see hints of the faith in her work and words. Deacon James Keating also writes on vulnerability. His piece titled “Vulnerability as a Place of Divine Encounter” is folded up in my prayer journal, mostly to hide the underlined, boxed, and highlighted phrases, like this one: “To be vulnerable to Divine Love is to let the beauty of God wound us, and so be filled with desire to commune with him, receive from him, and be taken up to him.” Risky business, this Divine Love. I mean, who wants to be vulnerable? Who wants to risk everything for the sake of a relationship? Who really wants to be wounded? Maybe I need to rephrase those questions: Who would ever agree to be born utterly dependent newborn, grow into a man who speaks harsh words to power and merciful words to the helpless, then allow himself to hang naked on a cross? Yep. That would be Jesus, who also goes by the name of Divine Love. Love is risky business, indeed. Isaiah, St. James, and John the Baptist understood the risk involved in devoting their lives to Divine Love and letting the world know that they should too. That’s not an easy thing, Isaiah says, “Be strong, fear not.” James writes to his fellow Christians, “do not complain… take as an example of hardship and patience.” John the Baptist preached to the people, “Repent!” which is always easier to say than to do because it involves admitting our weakness, our failings, and allowing our broken hearts to be laid bare. To be vulnerable. And to be vulnerable is the power we need to fall more in love with Jesus, to borrow the thought of Brené. We are three weeks into Advent, and I have to ask the question, “How have you allowed yourself to be vulnerable to the Lord? #aplaceofencounter
Our Archbishop is thinking like John the Baptist in the reading today, preparing a way and making straight our path for the future of our Church. I imagine if he were trained as an actor instead of a Churchman, the news might have been delivered from the steps of the Cathedral in full regalia with fire and brimstone and no small amount of enthusiasm, rewriting the words of John: "Listen up people! Hasn’t anyone warned you to flee from the wrath that will surely come in a culture without faith? Let us now produce good fruit as evidence of our repentance and spread Catholicism throughout our Archdiocese!”
Instead, we have a very well-written and beautiful letter that sets our feet upon a three-year path, setting us up for success far into the future. This first year, our Good Shepherd would like everyone to surround themselves with a group of friends who will either (a) serve the poor, (b) grow in faith while evangelizing others, or (c) pray for our ongoing conversion. The second year we’ll focus on the stunning beauty of the Mass, experiencing the completeness of grace that the Jesus has to offer, fully present, body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist. Lastly, we’ll hone in on parent formation, encouraging parents to pass the faith joyfully along to their kids. To prepare for this last initiative, the Archbishop has moved the ”Office of Youth and Young Adults” out from under the auspices of “Marriage and Family Life,” so that there will be a dedicated staff focusing on the future of our church. Like John the Baptist, we are pointing to Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Like Paul, we’ll welcome newcomers with enthusiasm, showing them the joy of the faith that has been passed along to us. Like the prophecy of Isaiah, the Holy Spirit will rest upon us, giving us wisdom, understanding, counsel, strength, knowledge, and a healthy trepidation of the exciting years to come. On that day, we will be a signal for the nations, all will seek us out, and “his dwelling shall be glorious.”
When our six kids were growing up, nearly all of them learned to play an instrument through the school Band program. It wasn’t unusual to walk in our house to sounds of a flute, trombone, guitar, or keyboard. At times, it sounded like the orchestra pit before a performance – everyone tuning to the beat of their own music. At other times as they grew older, it could be quite lovely. The other delightful part about the kids learning an instrument through the school is that they pretty much learned songs out of the same playbook. And that came in handy at Advent. It was our Sunday evening tradition to gather round the dining room table and pray. We’d turn out all the lights, light the wreath, read the prayers in the little purple book, learn a little about the theme of the week, and sing a song at the end, where at least one child played their instrument. Because of the variety of ages of our kids, we used a much-maligned parenting technique called “bribery” to get them to the table. If you participated in Sunday night Advent prayers, the reward was to dip into the Christmas treat stash, choosing three of your favorites (trinitarian, naturally). Some Sundays there might even be a family gift, like a DVD or tickets to the Christmas play. No pressure to join in, but something awesome would come if you did. It didn’t matter where you were in life, all were welcome to the Advent table. Sounds a bit like the readings from today in action, right? Isaiah writes about a world of instruction, peace, and light. Paul talks about conducting ourselves properly as followers of Christ. Jesus asks us to open our hearts and prepare our souls, for we know not when our time will come. Jesus always extends an invitation, never giving a command. There is something beautiful that awaits us at the “taking.” And if you are left behind, like our kids who occasionally chose not to participate, well… you’ll be missing out on something pretty amazing. #joinourmission
There’s a foreign film that I rarely watch because of its violent and dark nature. Titled “Pan’s Labyrinth,” the majority of the film is color-bathed in dreariness, immersed in cruelty, and resplendent with violence. I’m compelled to look away from the screen and cover my ears many, many times. And yet. I’m thinking about that film this week, as we’ve left the beauty of autumn and stepped into a temporary starkness of the natural world. It’s awash in the grey-scale colors of politics and war too. Sigh. But the warmth, joy, and brightness of Advent and Christmas are just around the corner, we only need to wait out the season! You see, although the vast majority of “Pan’s Labyrinth” depicts the bleakness of war and human depravity, it suddenly ends with a stunning barrage of kaleidoscope color in stained glass and glory as the young heroine suffers a sacrificial death… then enters the regal courtyard of the-world-beyond. She stands before the radiant thrones of the King and Queen, reclaiming her long-forgotten identity as daughter of the King. I cry at this scene every single time. Partly because there is such astounding light and Love reflected in the cinematography after 90 minutes of sheer darkness. But more importantly, it’s because I’ve also forgotten this fact: I am the daughter of the King of the Universe, the One who knew me before I was born. The One who gave me life and purpose. The One who loves beyond all telling. I. Am. His. Beloved. Daughter. What awaits us after our long dark-and-dreary season on earth is brighter and more beautiful than words can describe. As we close out the liturgical year it is good to pause for a moment to reflect on our true identity. We are not merely sojourners in this battle-colored world, we are beloved sons and daughters of the King of the Universe. So despite the ugliness of this present time, our role is to advance the mission of the King by bringing Goodness, Truth, and Beauty to a dark world in desperate need. #rememberyourmission
Today’s readings are a wee bit hard – okay, really hard – but next week it’s “Don’t worry, Jesus is King of the Universe!” What is it, exactly, that we have to worry about? Well, that, my friends, is today’s readings. The prophet Malachi starts us off with a resounding smack-down for all the evildoers of this world. If you read the entire chapter, you’ll find that the “evildoers” are sorcerers, adulterers, liars, those who oppress the poor, ignore the orphans, the widows, and the immigrant. He adds to that list those who rob God by not tithing out of their wealth and those who do not honor and serve Him in thought, word, and deed. “The day is coming, blazing like an oven, when the proud and all the evildoers will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire, leaving them neither root nor branch.” Pretty heavy stuff here. Hundreds of years later, St. Paul writes a second letter to the Thessalonians (apparently the first one wasn’t strong enough to change their behavior!) reiterating how to act amid the cultural persecution: don’t be disorderly or a busybody, and work to earn your keep. Whoever coined the phrase, “Idle hands are the Devil’s work,” was probably reading this piece from St. Paul! He closes this letter, “Do not be weary in doing what is right,” and to have nothing to do with those who do not act like joyful disciples of Jesus. Whew. Exponential heaviness! Then we get to the actual words of Our Lord and Savior, and prepare for some heavy lifting. Do not be deceived by those who claim to know the “time has come.” There will always be wars, insurrections, and nations fighting with each other and we’ll always have earthquakes, famines, and plagues, because the world is a broken place full of broken people. Not only that, but the world will hate followers of Jesus so cultural persecution and family division is a given. Just persevere. All will be well. For Jesus is King of your universe and His plan is simply beautiful. #livingforthenextlife
In order to get into the “zone” of writing a Sunday column, there’s a few things that need to be done. I silence my phone, pray to the Holy Spirit for inspiration, and set some background meditative music. I look at multiple translations of the readings, not just the one in the Lectionary. I often grab my Hebrew and Greek interlinear Bibles to see how the text looks in the original language: What are the word choices, the sentence structure, and how the story fits with what comes before or after. We sometimes lose so much meaning as we go from Hebrew/Greek to Latin and then into English. Every translator/translation has an agenda too, whether they want to admit it or not. It’s my personal belief that English is the poorest of languages when it comes to depth, breadth, and width of a foreign word’s intention. So here we are today with original Greek readings from the Maccabees, Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, and Luke’s account of a conversation between the Sadducees and Jesus. The theme that binds them together is that we live for what-comes-next, not this life here on earth. Only in heaven will we be fully and wholly alive. Alive. The Greek word here from Luke is zaó, and alive is the perfect English word, but we miss the subtlety. These phrases are also a part of zaó: “to be amidst the living” and “to come to life” and “to be restored” and “to enjoy real life” and “to have true life and worthy of the name — active, blessed, endless in the kingdom of God.” All that in one Greek word: zaó. Until the time the Good Lord calls us home, we are to strive to be like our future selves, despite the stormy and resistant culture. Like the Persian king of Maccabees, the Holy Roman Empire of Paul, or the Sadducees of Jesus’ time, there will always be those who persecute disciples of Our Lord. And that’s just fine, for we aren’t working for accolades in this world, we’re living in joy for the next. #bethestorm
When Jesus says, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house,” Zacchaeus jumps down out of the tree and receives Jesus with great joy. And off the two of them go, heads and hearts together in conversation for conversion, naysayers and grumblers notwithstanding. Notice that Jesus doesn’t take Zacchaeus to the synagogue. Jesus wants to be in Zacchaeus’ home, an intimate space where talk flows naturally over bread and wine. Jesus wants our hearts, souls, and minds, and not just on Sunday mornings. He wants to be in our homes and a part of our daily lives too, not just someOne we turn to when we need a little advice or a solution to a problem. As Jesus entered Zacchaeus’ home, do you think Jesus knew that Zacchaeus was a Jewish man? Did he have a mezuzah on his doorpost as a symbol to all those who enter that a Jewish faith resides within, and that his home was a holy place where all should act accordingly in all the comings-and-goings-on? Was his menorah strategically placed, so he and his visitors would remember that God can do miracles in their lives? And his candlesticks for shabbat, were they worn down from weekly Friday prayer? So… what does the inside of your home look like? We say that the home is the “domestic church.” If Jesus met you along Vermillion Street and said, “Today I must stay at your house,” would He see evidence of your Catholic faith as he crossed the doorstep? What about our spiritual home here at St. Elizabeth’s? The Benedictine tradition is to serve Jesus and honor God in your neighbor during the week and to worship the Lord on Sunday; we sometimes lose sight of the latter while adhering to the former. Where are our faith visuals? Can you point to our ancestors, the Apostles, who have gone before us? Does the Mother of God have prominence? Does our space reflect the holiness and heavenly-ness of the spiritual realm? Does it remind us that the Mass is where heaven-meets-earth? Does Divine Beauty have a home here? #ponderingsacredspaces
I have a favorite Eucharistic Prayer. This fact puts me smack dab in the middle of the liturgy-geek category, and since our group is already on the fringes of normal, our conversations generally go un-heard and are rarely repeated. We stay out of the gossip chain, because really, who cares about a Eucharistic Prayer? In our small circle, we bemoan the lack of interest, since these prayers orient our souls towards Eucharist, ‘the source and summit’ of our faith. Also a Church-geek phrase but one you’ll find in the Catechism and etched in every Catholic heart. Fr. Dave has four Eucharistic Prayers to choose from and if he starts out, “To you, therefore, most merciful Father, we make humble prayer and petition…” my heart skips a beat, because we are in for a wordsmith treat. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear phrases like, “we offer you this sacrifice of praise or they [servants] offer it for themselves and all who are dear to them for the redemption of their souls, in hope of health and well-being” or “order our days in your peace” or “command that we be delivered from eternal damnation” or my ultimate favorite, “command that these gifts be borne by the hands of your holy Angel to your altar on high in the sight of your divine majesty, so that all of us, who through this participation at the altar receive the most holy Body and Blood of your Son, may be filled with every grace and heavenly blessing.” Stunning. Beautiful. Redemptive. Here is the fullness of Sirach who knows the Lord is not deaf to the cries of oppressed, St. Paul’s sacrifice as he is poured out like a libation, and the tax collector’s heart who knows he is not worthy to stand in the presence of God. All three of these men have stood in the presence of the Lord in awe, wonder, and humility knowing there are things seen-and-unseen, and the unseen is far more powerful than we could ever imagine and contains more Love than we could ever receive. #leanintoMass
In all these things that swirl together into my-life-at-the-moment, there’s a small still voice that whispers, “Are you doing God’s will?” I wonder if Moses, Joshua, Aaron, and Hur question if they are doing God’s will. Amalek has come prepared for battle against the Israelites and, frankly, the war is touch-and-go. As long as Moses’ hands are raised in a your-will-be-done position of thanksgiving and glory, all goes well. But when he wearies of the task and lowers his arms… not so much. Did they ever think, amid the chaotic tug-of-war, “Is winning this battle God’s will for us?”
Then we have St. Paul writing to his new pastor Timothy. Did you catch the [realities] underneath all of his lovely advice? “Remain faithful” [you’ll be persecuted], “Scripture is useful for teaching, for refutation, for correction, and for training” [your people will need correcting], “be persistent whether convenient or inconvenient” [your people won’t pay attention], and “convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching” [it’s a long haul]. Will Timothy wonder in those moments of pastoral frustration, “Is this profession God’s will for me?” Even our persistent widow, who is turned down again-and-again-and-again by the judge, do you think she ever asked herself, “Is this judgement God’s will for me?”
In all of the above, the answer is a resounding YES. Just because it’s difficult, inconvenient, weary-ing, or downright life-altering, doesn’t mean it’s not God’s will or that you are on the wrong path. Sometimes there are setbacks, tensions, and wrong turns on God’s meandering pathway toward the creation of heaven-on-earth.
We’ve been traveling on a spiritual journey of forming joyful disciples who make Jesus Christ known and loved and envisioning a vibrant community where we radiate Christ’s hope and love to all we encounter, inside and outside of our sacred space here at St. Elizabeth’s. Like Moses, we might grow weary. Like Timothy, we might need a few refutations and corrections to make in our spiritual practice and theological thought. Like the widow, we might require a supernatural dose of perseverance. Let’s embrace the difficulties. Honor the chaos. Champion the change. #letgoandletGod
This week’s readings are all over ‘urgency.’ First, the pagan commander Naaman has an urgent need to be cured of leprosy. In desperation, he takes the advice of his wife’s Jewish maid, who says that if Naaman were to visit the prophet Elisha, healing will happen. After some initial reluctance, Naaman does as instructed by Elisha and is cured. Naaman immediately converts to the faith and begins to worship only the Lord God. Next, St. Paul sits in prison awaiting certain death while writing to Timothy about how to pastor a faith community. If you read the entire letter you’d know the urgency in Paul’s tone, but today we hear this snippet: “If we have died with him [Christ Jesus], we shall also live with him... But if we deny him, he will deny us.” Strong words from a disciple on death row who knows his time his limited. Jesus knows his time is limited too. We’re deep into his ministry, as he’s journeying toward Jerusalem to his Via Dolorosa, the way of suffering, the road to death. He’s curing as many as he can right now, Jew or Samaritan, it no longer matters for time is running out.
So it is here. If nothing changes, including ourselves and the way we share the Good News, we will eventually fade away and die out. We already see the decline in Mass attendance, the number of children in religious education, and our volunteer base. Those who live joy-filled lives of discipleship are fewer and further between. What we’ve been doing for the past 20 years isn’t working. It’s not about the numbers either, it’s what stands behind: A soul which longs for Goodness, Truth, and Beauty, and a person who desires an amazing adventure on earth followed by an eternity with their Beloved and others they have loved. We must embrace a new way of moving and working within and outside of the church. We must let go of maintaining programs and embrace a missionary spirit. Now is the time to own the urgency… and become joyful disciples who make Jesus Christ known and loved, like Naaman’s maid, St. Paul, and the Samaritan leper. #timetotakeaction
I’m not a huge fan of driving. Don’t get me wrong, I love fast cars, especially the European models, and in particular the Aston Martin DB9 Bond version. As a personal practice however, I prefer to walk over drive, even to the grocers. A few weeks back my Aldi store closed for renovation, and I am now forced to walk a wee bit further along a fairly busy and visible major road for my quick grocery run. With the drop in temps, there is now layering to consider. This past weekend, as I’m looking at my hoodie sweatshirt options, my thoughts went something like this: “‘UMary’? Too light. ‘Yellowstone’? Too heavy. ‘The Chosen’? Wrong colors. ‘St. Benedict image’? Too Catholic. Someone might flip me off or pull over. ‘Choose Joy? Maybe.” WAIT. BACK UP. Say what? Too Catholic? I couldn’t believe that thought walked into my head and took up residence. An evangelist afraid to wear a substantially Catholic hoodie out in public? Whew. Fire me now, Fr, Dave. I’m fairly certain St. Paul rolled his eyes too, then smiled, knowing his letter to Timothy would come up in the reading this week: “Stir into flame the gift of God… for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to Our Lord... but bear the hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God.” I imagine I am not the only person here who is a reluctant to share the faith in a public setting, whether it be a saint quote in your professional office, a Mary statue in your front yard, or – gasp – praying with a friend at Froth&Cork. But if we are a mission church full of disciples, sharing the faith outside the confines of this sacred space is as important at worshipping our Lord at Mass. This week, take the risk. Witness to the faith off-campus. Talk about Jesus in public spaces. Pray to the Holy Spirit and start small like the mustard seed. #wearthehoodie
A trip to Tanzania (Africa) about this time five years ago changed my life in so many ways. I was part of a small team that went to visit our church’s latest project, helping to build a Catholic church there. Our pastor had been asked by his Bishop to oversee a local organization with a medical and faith presence in a small mountain village, and we brought their mission to our parish. I’m often still at a loss of words to describe how profoundly my world was rocked on that adventure, but suffice to say I left pieces of my heart and soul back there. You see, I fell in love with poverty. And not just the beauty of never worrying about someone taking stuff-you-don’t-own or the laughter of sharing-a-bountiful-harvest or the joy of singing-while-you-worship or even the contentment of God-will-provide, but also the darker side of poverty. The uncertainty of hunger. The effect of illiteracy. The weight of oppression. The needless pain and suffering. The dependence upon others. The aftermath when God does not provide. I fell in love with all of it, the Good, the bad, and the ugly. And yet. Here I am, living in the wealthiest country in the world, owning a big ole remodeled home in one of the wealthiest suburbs of the state, living a life of luxury and excess. A rich woman ‘dressed in purple garments’ who ‘stretches comfortably on her sofa’ while eating the choicest ‘calves from the stall’ and ‘drinking wine from bowls.’ As my husband said last night over a lovely steak-and-potato dinner alongside a very nice malbec, “We live a blessed life.” Indeed we do. And that is my worry: I’m afraid to stand before the Lord with nothing but my faith, hope, and love. For that’s all my hands will hold at the end of this earthly journey. Not the things of this world, but only the love that I offered, the charity I gave, and the hope Jesus thinks I was a woman of God, ‘pursuing righteousness, faith, love, devotion, patience, and gentleness,’ while bringing heaven to earth. #thereISajudgementday
What is justice? To not promote the death penalty when a person is convicted of murder? To protect the pre-born when that innocent soul will enter a world fraught with neglect? To keep marriage between a man and a woman as the sacred bond when two people of the same gender adore each other? To house and feed a migrant from another country when others are equally as needy? To forgive others when they caused long lasting pain and incredible heartache in our lives? Is that justice? Or is it dishonest to the quid-pro-quo world of action-and-consequence? These are the questions asked of those who do not understand that Jesus’ way is not the way of the world.
To be a disciple of Jesus is to love him above all else and therefore to follow his teachings and his way of life. To be a disciple is to love poverty, practice chastity, promote justice, and be bound by obedience to the Gospel in our daily lives. It is to be kind, gentle, and grace-filled when responding to queries and criticism. It means to treat all souls with respect and dignity, regardless of their actions or attitude. To be a disciple means to treat others as Jesus has treated us. I don’t know about you, but Jesus has definitely been a dishonest steward with me, as he forgave my indolence, my self-righteousness, my many sins, and my past regrets… when he demanded the full account of my stewardship, as it were. Then he refused to serve me worldly justice and obeyed the will of his heavenly Father, showing me with mercy instead. And in return, I am filled with such joy and gratitude for my redemption that I am who I am today, a joyful disciple who wants to make Jesus Christ known and loved. And yet, I am also still a sinner in need of continual redemption. As Paul’s words to Timothy’s new church reflect, and as much as I try, I often fail to lead a tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. And Jesus begins with me anew. #Jesusjustice
Once again, I’m writing this column from Iowa while doing a little eldercare. It feels as though we’ve been talking about making life-decisions for… a very long time. We’re looking at assisted living options in three different states and four different cities, each with its own positive attributes and challenges. We’re creating - and recreating - budget spreadsheets, applying my favorite ‘chaos theory’ training and adding hidden influencers. We know others have walked this path, so we’re talking to a number of friends who each have their own pieces of advice. Trying to put it all together and make a decision is overwhelming at times.
It's eerily similar to what we’re doing here, as we move towards creating a culture where we live out our mission and vision to be joyful disciples who make Jesus Christ known and loved. If we do this well, we will become a missionary parish and thrive. If we continue to do the same things we’ve been doing, we’ll just walk the long dark path toward closure. Or worse, merger, and then we’ll feel like Moses imploring the Lord to stay his wrath.
You’ll be hearing a lot from various staff members in the upcoming months, talking about our forward movement towards being a mission parish over the next three years. We’ll entertain all your ideas and thoughts, rest assured. But also know that everything we do – everything – will be geared toward forming intentional disciples of Jesus Christ. Whether it’s family formation, events, bible studies, liturgy, moms groups, school events… everything will gear towards forming and feeding followers of Christ and His Church, and then sending them out into the world.
Why would we entertain this laser-focused goal? Because the Catholic faith and our faith community is worth fighting for. We are like the one sheep, the golden coin, and the prodigal son in today’s readings: lost-but-never-forgotten, a pearl of great price, an inestimable treasure to be shared with the world. #joyfilleddisciples
On one of my trips to Iowa I listened to a cultural podcast titled, “We Can Do Hard Things.” While I disagree with most of the content, I find the philosophy captivating: “We talk honestly about the hard. We laugh and cry and help each other carry the hard so we can all live a little bit lighter and braver, free-er, less alone.” That’s the Gospel message, right? The Wisdom writer tells us that life is indeed hard since “the corruptible body burdens the soul and the earthen shelter weighs down the mind that has many concerns.” Paul’s life was just like that. In this letter to the slave-owner Philemon, he writes that in his old age, he is a prisoner for Christ Jesus, awaiting certain death for his beliefs. He’s asking Philemon to treat the new-convert Onesimus not as the slave he once was, but as a brother in Christ. All three of these are hard things: Paul contemplates his death, Onesimus his potential re-entry into slavery, and Philemon his reputation as a Christian verses a slave-owner. And then Jesus’ words about hating others, carrying our crosses, and renouncing all our possessions. Add to that mix the entirety of the Church’s moral teachings, the works of mercy we should be doing, and loving our neighbor as ourselves. And here, as we move from ‘maintaining the status quo’ to a new ‘way of living’ of falling in love with Jesus, being on fire for the faith, then inviting everyone to share our joy and our enthusiasm (our mission). Whew. Talk about hard things. But we can do hard things. With an open heart for the Holy Spirit, the grace of our Lord Jesus, and the strength of Our Heavenly Father, we can be joy-filled people who act like followers of Jesus (disciples), spreading his message of love and hope, creating a vibrant community (our vision). One that radiates Goodness, Truth, and Beauty in all we do and how we worship. One that others will take note of and want to be a part of. But it requires a tough choice that might reflect today’s Gospel, yes? #willyouorwontyou
Laura Stierman started as our Director of Evangelization on June 28, 2021. She brings a lot of experience from parish life and has a great zeal for evangelization. Laura will help us develop and implement an overall evangelization plan which corresponds to our mission and vision. She will be part of a team that will develop and implement the curriculum for all our adult and youth formation so that it is missionary and evangelical. Welcome, Laura!