Our Mission Statement

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
    We are all used to mission statements in work.  Many business have some written mission statement.  As a parish, we have a purpose statement that is on the front of our bulletin each week: “Our parish purpose is to use beauty and truth to inspire and develop disciples to transform the secular order by the grace of God, for His glorification and the edification of man.”    We’re also used to it on certain TV shows.  For example Star Trek: “Space: the final frontier.  These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise.  Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.”  

    In the Gospel today we hear both the purpose statement of St. Luke and the mission statement of Jesus.  St. Luke tells us that his purpose is “to write [a narrative of events] in an orderly sequence for you…so that you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received.”  He writes his Gospel account in order to help us believe in what we have heard about Jesus, because he collected the information from those who knew the Lord.  He took his part in the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, by sharing in written form the good news, the Gospel, of Jesus.  
    Jesus, for His part, quotes the prophet Isaiah, as St. Luke tells us, as He explains in Nazareth, His home town, that He is the long-awaited Messiah.  He tells the people: “‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.’”  And, in case there was any doubt about what He was saying, He tells the people there, “‘Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.’”  

    Perhaps this is from where the practice of bishops choosing a motto stems, though those are usually much shorter.  For example, Pope Francis chose Miserando atque eligendo, or “by having mercy and also by choosing.”  Or Pope Benedict XVI chose Cooperatores veritatis–cooperators of the truth.  Or Pope St. John Paul II’s famous motto, Totus tuus–Totally yours (referring to the Blessed Mother).  Bishop Boyea has In manus tuas–Into your hands, taken from Luke’s Gospel, as the final words of Jesus on the cross, which He quotes Psalm 31.  Even I have one for my coat-of-arms: In spiritu et veritate–In spirit and truth, which comes from Jesus’ interaction with the Samaritan woman in St. John’s Gospel, and references how we are to worship.  In seminary as jokes, we would sometimes suggest mottos for our brothers when they were ordained, taking out of context other Scripture passages like, “Surely, Lord, there be a stench” and “And Jesus wept,” both from the account of the raising of Lazarus.  
    But it’s not a bad idea for us to have some Scripture that guides our spiritual life, even if it changes from year to year.  Because, like the Blues Brothers, we are all on a mission from God.  Our mission is generally the same, to bring others to believe in Jesus as well as to go to heaven ourselves.  But, as St. Paul reminds us in the second reading, we each have different parts to play in the Church, which does not diminish each person and their role, but helps each of us to shine in what God has called us to do.  Some are apostles; others, prophets; others, teachers; others do mighty deeds; others have gifts of healing or assistance or administration; others, speak in tongues; and other gifts, as well.  But God desires each of us to use the gifts that we have, which He has freely given us, to help us go to heaven and to help build up the Church.  
    Again, that role that we have may change over time.  Maybe at one point of our life we are really strong in apologetics; maybe at another time our role in building up the Church is raising a family as disciples of Christ; maybe at another time it’s helping with different groups in the parish; maybe at another time it’s bearing witness to the faith at work.  The list goes on and on.  But God desires that we, throughout our life and especially after we are confirmed, do what we can to share the Gospel and help the Church grow.
    So what would your motto or mission statement be?  What Scripture passage guides you at this time in your life?  You may not have thought of this before, so I encourage you this week to open up the family Bible (hopefully it’s not hard to find and isn’t simply collecting dust), and read through the Psalms or Gospel passages or the epistles of St. Paul to choose a Scripture passage that will guide you this year.  Maybe it will be part of what we heard in the Gospel today: “to bring glad tidings to the poor.”  Maybe it will be from our first reading: “rejoicing in the Lord must be your strength.”  Hopefully it’s not a joke, like the taken-out-of-context phrase from the second reading, “‘I do not need you.’”  Whatever Scripture passage you discern the Lord wants to guide you with this year, may it shape your activities in work and rest, and home and abroad, to help spread the Gospel and build up the Church, which continues the mission of the Lord by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

"Do Not Be Afraid!"

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  On 22 October 1978 in St. Peter’s Square in Vatican City, 58-year-old Pope John Paul II, proclaimed to all those who attended his Inauguration Mass as Supreme Pontiff: “Do not be afraid.  Open wide the doors for Christ.”  The same message applies today as it did 46 years ago this October: “Do not be afraid.  Open wide the doors for Christ.”
    I do not say this flippantly, especially given the concerns that weigh on all of our hearts this week.  I say this, as I’m sure the saintly pontiff did, with St. Paul’s epistle the Romans in mind, as we heard today: “You did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’”  We don’t know what the future holds, but we do not need to be afraid, anymore than St. Paul was afraid; anymore than Pope St. John Paul II was afraid.  
    This does not mean that things would go easily.  St. Paul would eventually go to Rome and would be beheaded there simply for his faith in Jesus Christ.  Before that he had people betray him, abandon him, and he would get shipwrecked on his way to Rome.  Pope St. John Paul II would face head-on the communist government of the USSR.  He would be shot by an assassin on the feast of our Lady of Fatima in 1981.  While his mind remained sharp, his body would betray him until he couldn’t walk on his own and his speech was slightly less than a mumble.  Both St. Paul and the Successor of St. Peter would experience suffering.  But in any suffering they would cry out to their heavenly Father who would sustain them and help them to be a martyr, a witness, whether by the shedding of their blood or by the witness of patient suffering.
    Do we trust God to carry us through whatever may come next?  Are we children who belong in the Father’s house?  Or are we simply hired servants who come and go as it suits us?  Do we have confidence that any suffering, especially that which is unjust, will lead to our glorification?  Or are we afraid of the unknown and afraid of where the Father may lead us to go.
    Pope St. John Paul II reflected on being led somewhere strange in that same Mass.  He said:
 

The Lord addressed [Peter] with these words: “…when you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands and somebody else will put a belt around you and take you where you would rather not go’.  
Peter came to Rome!
…Perhaps the fisherman of Galilee did not want to come here.  Perhaps he would have preferred to stay there, on the shores of the Lake of Genesareth, with his boats and his nets.  But guided by the Lord, obedient to his inspiration, he came here!
According to an ancient tradition…, Peter wanted to leave Rome during Nero’s persecution.  But the Lord intervened: he went to meet him.  Peter spoke to him and asked, “Quo vadis, Domine?”–“Where are you going, Lord?”  And the Lord answered him at once: “I am going to Rome to be crucified again.”  Peter went back to Rome and stayed here until his crucifixion.

No doubt, Peter had reasons for wanting to flee Rome.  Think of the great work that Peter could have done if he escaped the persecution and hid in Italy, or maybe traveled to Spain like some have guessed St. Paul did for a time.  People were healed merely by the shadow of St. Peter, the Acts of the Apostles tells us.  And thousands converted by his preaching at Pentecost.  But that was not how Christ called Peter.  Christ did not call Peter to fear, but to trust in the will of the Father, even though that will included his crucifixion.
    God will never abandon us.  He has pledged Himself to us as our Father, our Abba, through holy Baptism.  No matter what we do, He will be there for us.  But will we stay loyal to Him?  When the going gets tough, will we go away?  Will we let Christ be crucified a second time because we give into fear and into our own wisdom?  Or will we be like Peter and stay in Rome, even when it means persecution and suffering?
    I often don’t understand God’s ways.  I don’t know why Christ allows this, but stops that.  There are moments where I think I can see His hand and the trajectory He has, but more often I simply have to make an act of faith that, as St. Paul said, all things will work for the good of those who love God.  But when tempted to run for the hills because things have gotten too tough, or because it would be easier to do something else, the words of St. Peter in John chapter six always pop up in my mind: “‘Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.’”  There is nowhere else to go for eternal life.  Do not be afraid.  Stay with Christ.  And, in the words of Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Duc In Altum

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “Duc in altum!  These words ring out for us today, and they invite us to remember the past with gratitude, to live the present with enthusiasm and to look forward to the future with confidence: ‘Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever.’”  Pope St. John Paul II penned these words in his Apostolic Letter, Novo millennio ineunte at the close of the Great Jubilee Year 2000.  While he wrote these words for a particular time, now almost a quarter of a century ago, they still ring true today.  And every time I read or hear this Gospel–especially in this Mass where the Latin words that the saintly pontiff used are proclaimed in the same Latin, the mother tongue of the Church in Rome–I draw back to this document which closed an exciting and reinvigorating time in the Church’s history
    Over the past school years, I have assisted the Michigan State Police with training in a tank for those who show interest in joining the MSP and preparing them for what they might experience for water safety.  Most people would call where we do this a pool, but in the State Police a pool is where you have fun, and we were not about having fun during this training, so we swam in a tank.  I’m a decent swimmer, but it has pushed me as the other staff challenged me to push a brick at the bottom of the tank from one side to another; to open my eyes under water while I’m swimming; to tread water for fifteen or more minutes while passing a 10-pound brick hand over hand to the other people treading water in a circle; to allow another to rescue me as a simulated being a drowning victim, and entrusting my life into their training.  It gave me some trepidation at times, but I’m still here, and no one has ever drowned in this training.  
    I mention that because putting out into the deep (which is what duc in altum means) when it comes to our faith came seem as challenging as tank training was for me.  It pushes us beyond our comfort zone; it makes us develop new skills; it sometimes even tires us.  But just as it was in the year 2000, as it also was in the year 1500, as it also was in the year 1000, as it was on the birth of the Church at Pentecost, so today our mission is to welcome Christ into our boat, and put out into deep waters in order to make a miraculous catch.
    Note that previous failure does not suffice for an excuse against putting out into the deep.  St. Peter, who was Pope St. John Paul II’s 263rd predecessor, had tried fishing all night, but without any luck.  But he didn’t have the Lord with him, which was the reason for his abysmal performance at his life’s trade.  So with us: when we try to share the Gospel without Christ, we will find little, if any, success.  It might seem an oxymoron to share the Gospel without Christ, since the Gospel is the good news of our Lord’s saving life, death, and resurrection.  But do we bring our missionary activity to Christ first in prayer, before we talk to others about Him?  Is our life based in daily prayer that draws us closer to the Lord, and undergirds all of our evangelical action?  Even with the best arguments and the best intellectual exchanges, conversion is only possible by the power of grace.  Do we commend someone to God’s grace after we have shared the Gospel with them?  Without Christ, we catch nothing.  With Christ, we can’t even bring in all that He desires for us.
    This Gospel also encourages us to keep in my our own sinfulness.  Whenever we see the Lord do a great work, it should remind us to say, with that timeless hymn, “O Lord, I am not worthy.”  The power of Christ is most made manifest when we acknowledge our own weakness, the same now as when God told St. Paul, “My power is made manifest in weakness.”  Or, to paraphrase the Apostle to the Gentiles elsewhere, we are simply earthen vessels that God uses, so that the power may truly be known to come from God and not from us.  When we are able to let “Jesus take the wheel,” as the great Carrie Underwood sings, we can go and do things that we could never do if we relegate the Lord to the spot of a co-pilot.  To quote a bumper sticker I saw once, “If Jesus is your co-pilot, you’re in the wrong seat.”  Yes, we have to work with God, but let God use you to accomplish his work; don’t try to use God to approve your own plans and work.
    Lastly, our Lord encourages Peter after he admitted his unworthiness to be with the Lord, “Be not afraid.”  Fear of spreading the Gospel because we don’t think we know our Scripture well enough, or because we can’t easily spout off all or any of St. Thomas Aquinas’s erudite arguments from the Summa Theologiae, or because we don’t follow Christ perfectly ourselves does not come from God.  Yes, we should engage in Bible studies; yes, we should study the Angelic Doctor and other Church fathers and scholars, as our gifts allow; yes, we are sinners who do not always live up to the message we preach.  But God doesn’t ask us to have the entire Bible memorized, or any theological work, or to live perfectly before we evangelize.  He encourages us to be not afraid, and allow Him to work through us.  If we don’t know something, we can look it up afterwards and follow up on another’s questions.  And there is a real power in sharing with another person that you want to live as Christ commands, but you don’t always do it (which is probably where that other person will be in his or her life as a disciple anyway).  But don’t let fear keep you on the shore; don’t let past failures keep you from the greatness that God wants to accomplish with your cooperation.  
    As we prepare to enter this next Jubilee Year, 2025, which has as its theme Pilgrims of Hope, may we listen to the call of Pope St. John Paul II and not be afraid to put out into the deep, sharing the hope we have because of our faith in the Lord Jesus, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Doubts and the Synod

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of the jobs of a shepherd is to make sure the flock stays in good pastures and is protected from the wolves.  Good pastures are those that feed the soul well, not with junk food that tastes good going down, but which doesn’t actually nourish the body.  The wolves need not be people, though they sometimes can be, but can also be ideas which are dangerous to the flock.  And, to be clear, I do not intend any of what I am about to say to be a personal attack.  Personal attacks, called ad hominem, are logical fallacies.  Plus, if we look at the ideas, rather than the person, our effect can be much longer lasting.
    Recently, five cardinals wrote a set of doubts, or dubia, to the Holy Father concerning the synod.  The five questions regard whether Divine Revelation can change based upon current cultural or anthropological ideas, whether so-called same-sex marriages can receive blessings, whether synodality is a constitutive dimension of the Church, whether sacramental ordination of women can be conferred, and whether repentance is a necessary aspect of sacramental absolution.
    To be clear, I don’t claim to be a Doctor of Theology.  I have a Baccalaureate of Sacred Theology from the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas in Rome and a Master of Divinity degree from Sacred Heart Major Seminary in Detroit.  I am nowhere close to as well-educated as the eminent cardinals who raised the doubts to the Holy Father.  But I do feel well-qualified enough to help guide you as your shepherd on what the faith is.  I don’t have time to expand on all these dubia, but wanted to respond to a few, namely so-called same-sex marriage, and the ordination of women.  I will also end by talking about the synod.  Some answers may seem more obvious than others, maybe all of them will seem obvious, but as your pastor I want to make sure that you know, to the best of my ability, what the Church teaches so that you are not confused and led astray by false ideas.
    First, blessings of same-sex unions.  From the beginning, as Pope Francis affirmed, marriage is between a man and a woman, for a life-long union, open to the procreation of children by natural means.  No government can change the definition of marriage, since government is not the creator of marriage.  The Church cannot change the definition of marriage because the Church is not the creator of marriage, either.  The Church is simply the steward of what God has revealed to us, especially through Christ.  And when it comes to blessings or prayers of blessings, those are times where God gives His approval or sets apart for sacred purpose persons, places, or objects.  To be specific, the Church says that blessings are types of “sacred signs that resemble the sacraments: they signify effects, particularly of a spiritual kind, which are obtained through the Church’s intercession [by which] men are disposed to receive the chief effect of the sacraments, and various occasions of life are sanctified.”  The Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith explained in 2021 that the Church does not have the authority to give blessings to unions of persons of the same sex, affirming that any blessing has to conform to the design of God, which same-sex unions do not.  It even went so far as to say that we cannot bless sin, which may seem obvious, but affirmed that homosexual unions are sinful.
    That same response did rightly affirm that persons with homosexual attractions can receive blessings individually if they are living in accord with the Gospel.  And while that may seem uncaring, love cannot be true love if it is separated from the truth.  Love does not allow the other to do that which is destructive to one’s salvation.  It also does not meant that there is no room in the Catholic Church for those who have a homosexual attraction.  Catholic means welcoming to everyone, and we do welcome every person, and encourage them, even as we encourage ourselves, to follow Christ more closely in every aspect of our lives, including our sexuality.  But we cannot bless any situation which is in direct opposition to God’s design. 

    Secondly, on the sacramental ordination of women.  From the beginning, sacramental ordination has been reserved to men, not because men are better (the Church strongly affirms the equal dignity of men and women); not because men are holier (the holiest person in human history is a woman, the Blessed Virgin Mary); simply because it was the will of God according to His Divine plan.  This was affirmed in the Apostolic Letter Ordinatio Sacerdotalis by Pope St. John Paul II in 1994.  The pontiff wrote: “Wherefore, in order that all doubt may be removed…in virtue of my ministry of confirming the brethren I declare that the Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women and that this judgment is to definitively held by all the Church’s faithful.”  Sounds pretty settled, right?
    Of course, someone questioned it, and so the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith responded to that doubt and wrote, “[The teaching on the reservation of priestly ordination to men] requires definitive assent, since…it has been set forth infallibly by the ordinary and universal Magisterium…[and since] the Roman Pontiff, exercising his proper office…has handed on this same teaching by a formal declaration, explicitly stating what is to be hold always, everywhere, and by all, as belonging to the deposit of faith.”  So, no room for doubt.  It belongs to the deposit of faith and cannot be changed.  Not by anybody at any time.
    So why these and other questions?  What is the point of the synod?  I know that there are some theories that there are people who want to try to change Church teaching.  I’m not so naïve to say that no one fits into this category.  I’m sure there are some who are attending the synod hoping to change things, things which cannot be changed.
    But I also want to hope, and I truly believe, that some of this is simply to engage in a conversation about issues which many consider closed issues.  There is a benefit to engaging in conversations with people who do not believe the same way we do, even on settled matters, like the Divinity of Christ.  Isn’t that the point of evangelization?  And yes, sometimes we’re evangelizing our fellow Catholics.  We don’t fail to engage the subject, as long as we stay in the truth and do not deny the doctrine that others are questioning.  So I’m not one to say that the synod has no point.  Perhaps this is a desire at the highest level to evangelize those who are baptized Catholics, but who do not know the fullness of the faith that has been taught.  Perhaps not.  But there is at least a way to see these questions being discussed at the synod in a positive light. 
    When we hear about these dubia, I encourage us not to immediately demonize those who question.  Rather, educate yourself about what the Church teaches: not from the media, not from hearsay, but from official teachings of the Church like the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  If we hold fast to the teachings of the Catholic Church, those things that cannot change, then while the waves break around us, while the storms batter us from without or within, we will be safe in the Ark of the Church which will bring us safely to the harbor of the saints in heaven, where we will worship our Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Charlie Brown and the Meaning of Christmas

 Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord

    I’m pretty sure my mom’s favorite Christmas show is  “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”  I’m sure we’re all familiar with the story: Charlie Brown wants a great Christmas, there’s a school Christmas play, Snoopy has decorated his dog house over the top, and the tree that Charlie Brown picks is a small, pitiful tree that barely has any needles left on it.  The play is falling apart, Lucy is being her usual self, and nothing seems to be going right.  Enter Linus, who, responding to Charlie Brown’s query if anyone knows what Christmas is about, says:
 

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.  And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.  And the angel said unto them, “Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”  And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

There is so much that goes on at Christmas, so many things that we prepare for, so many parties to attend, presents to buy, houses to clean, that sometimes we forget what Christmas is all about.  And we’ve celebrated it so many times, that perhaps it has lost some of its newness and power.  Perhaps we have become numb to the real meaning of Christmas, what Christmas is all about.
    To properly understand the real meaning of Christmas, we have to start at the beginning.  Adam and Eve had offended God by disobeying Him and seeking to be God on their own terms.  They were sorry.  God accepted the apology, and sought humanity out time and time again, but humanity kept distancing itself more and more away from God.
    Christmas, then, is about God making the ultimate move of reconciliation.  We could not approach God on our own.  We were hopeless that anything could be done to fully restore what we had broken.  And knowing that we had caused the pain, knowing that we had done wrong, we stayed to ourselves.  But God didn’t leave us to ourselves.  He sent us someone who could reconcile us to Himself, and someone who could do so without shaming us.  Christ was and is one like us, but without sin.  He took on our human flesh so that we could be comfortable in the presence of God again.  God became man so that man might become God.  Rather than seeing us continually suffer by our separation from Him, He came to us so that we could be healed.
    And He came in a way that utterly disarmed us.  The Incarnation was like the Trojan Horse, because how could we not accept one so tiny and fragile?  How could we not smile at a cute baby, whose face looked like ours, but was truly the face of God?  It would be like being estranged from a dear friend or family member, not knowing if we could ever be amicable with them again because of the pain that we caused, but then that dear friend sends us a little gift, something that we treasure, as a way of restoring that relationship.  We certainly did not earn that gift, and would never have expected it, but that friend sent it anyway, and the healing could commence.  

    The real meaning of Christmas is God’s love and mercy for us doing the unthinkable: lowering Himself beyond all expectation, just so that we could be reunited with Him.  The snow is beautiful (though you may think otherwise having driven in it to get here); the glimmering trees and the presents that often are under them give us passing happiness; the favorite and timeless songs that we sing give our hearts a certain levity.  But all those things will pass, and will be put away for another twelve months.  The love and mercy of God will remain, long after the snow has melted, after the trees have dropped all their needles and the presents are forgotten or broken, after you can only find Christmas songs on YouTube or Spotify.  
    Are we willing to embrace that mercy?  Are we willing to accept the love of God offered to us to restore us to friendship with God?  It seems like a silly question, but sometimes, after we know we have done something wrong, we fear even accepting an offer of mercy and love, because we so define ourselves by our faults and failing.  We think that the broken relationship cannot be made whole again.  Or we are afraid that, having restored that friendship, we will break it off again once more.  
    As the angel said to the shepherds in the field at Bethlehem, “Be not afraid.”  We are not the sum of our failings, as Pope St. John Paul II once said.  God can make what is broken whole again.  And yes, we may offend God again, but God, through Christ, will reach out His hand again when we turn back in sorrow for our sins, and will not reject any who come to Him, even if our sins were like scarlet.  And he will not do so begrudgingly, but with great haste and intention, because He would rather lower Himself and take on human frailty; He would rather die than have one of His beloved be separated from Him.  So great is the love of God that He will go to any lengths He can to save us.
    That is what we see at Christmas.  That is what we experience in the Incarnation.  That is what we celebrate today, every Sunday, and even every day as the priest, and the people united with him interiorly, offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  God loves you so much that He became like you.  Accept that great gift of love and mercy, and allow it to transform your life today, tomorrow, and all the tomorrows that you will have.  We broke off our friendship with God, but God has given us the opportunity to be His adopted sons and daughters in the Incarnate Son of God.  That is the real meaning of Christmas.  That is what Christmas is all about.

What is Truth?

 Sixth Sunday of Easter
    “What is truth?”  It may not be the best thing to quote Pontius Pilate at the beginning of a homily, but as we hear about the Holy Spirit today in the Gospel, and how He will “‘teach you everything and remind you of all that [Jesus] told you,’” it seems an appropriate question.  The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Truth, the Advocate who pleads our cause against Satan, the father of lies.  
    While we may have a general internal understanding of what truth is, it may be harder to define.  Truth is what is real, what is actual.  Truth allows us to interact with the world in a way which allows us to succeed.  Truth exerts itself and demands obedience, even if we don’t want to give it.  For example, the truth about gravity may be inconvenient, and we may want to ignore it, but if we jump off a cliff, hoping to go up, we will be sorely disappointed (and probably dead!).
    But truth isn’t only about physical realities.  Truth concerns both what is available to our senses, and what is beyond our senses, we might say both the physical and the metaphysical.  Pope St. John Paul II wrote an entire Encyclical about truth called Veritatis splendor, the Splendor of Truth, and writes that truth “enlightens man’s intelligence and shapes his freedom, leading him to know and love the Lord.”

    Truth is not up for debate.  Truth, like God, simply is, which is why it makes perfect sense for Christ to say in the Gospel, “‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life.’”  Because of the Incarnation, we can say that truth is not merely a set of propositions; truth has a face.  
    Truth does not change over the centuries, even if our understanding of it does.  Truth does not change depending on the type of government, or the political party in charge.  Truth is a light in the darkness that helps us walk on safe paths, without which we can often stumble and fall.
    But society for the past decades has struggled with truth.  Society has questioned if there even is such a thing as truth, has denied that there is truth altogether, and now can often only speak of voicing “your truth,” as if it changes not only for every time, but even for every person.  But if truth is different for every person, then communication is altogether impossible, as words presume a set meaning, an expression of a real idea, not simply our own invention of ideas based upon what we want something to be.  And this trend of questioning truth has found its way even into the people who profess, week after week, belief in God who is Truth Itself, and who reveals the truth about Himself to us out of love.
    It is vogue now, as it often has been in every century of the Church, to question this or that Church teaching, not for the purpose of understanding it more, but for the purpose of rejecting it.  Because some truths are hard for a given culture and time.  In the fourth and fifth centuries, as we came to understand Jesus Christ more, we discovered that explaining who Christ is could be difficult, but the easier answer didn’t account for who Christ had to be to save us.  He is fully God and fully man, unbegotten, consubstantial with the Father.  It would have been easier to say, like the heretic Arius, that Jesus was simply a special creature of God, above us, but not God.  That would have seemed to have been better to preserve the oneness of God.  But then, if He was not God, He could not save us.  But then, if He were not one of us, He would not be under the cost of disobedience that we acquired through sin.  And so we held to the hard truth, that Jesus Christ is one hundred percent God, but one hundred percent human, and that God, while one, is a Trinity of Three Divine Persons, while still one in substance.
    Lies are often easier, and less complicated, at least at first.  It’s easier to say, “Yes, I love this food!” that looks more like the charcoal you use in a grill.  And yet, even those “white lies” as we call them can lead to hurt and pain when, as most often happens, the truth is discovered (in this case when it’s discovered by your spouse that swallowing has suddenly become quite difficult).  And that’s just with small issues.  Imagine being told, “I love you,” by a person who is just using you.  You think that he or she really cares for you as a person, and you give yourself to him or her, trusting that you will not be betrayed, only to have that hope dashed against the rocks and your heart broken by someone who was not concerned about you, but only about him or herself.  
    Many times we know what the Church teaches, but we don’t want to accept it, because it was hard.  It was likely hard for those first Christians, especially those who were Jewish, who saw their faith as simply the right way to be a good Jew, to accept the truth revealed by the Holy Spirit to the Apostles that being a follower of Jesus didn’t require circumcision or the following of dietary laws that had been given by Moses.  It was hard, but it was the truth.  And the truth was revealed and preserved by the Holy Spirit, using the cooperation of the Apostles.  It wasn’t simply that old men wearing pointy hats decided to go one way, as is so often parroted when the Church holds fast to an unpopular teaching.  
    But just as gravity forces itself upon the individual, whether he or she likes it or not, the truths of our faith are also as stubborn; they cannot be wished away.  So if we wish to have a happy life, which comes from following the truth, not only here on earth but especially if we hope to go to heaven, we are called to subject ourselves to the truth, even when that’s hard.  If we wish to call ourselves follows of Christ who is the Truth, then we are called to follow the truth as revealed through the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, no matter how hard it may be.  Ask the Holy Spirit today to help you know the truth, for the truth will set you free to be the person you are made to be, in the world as God made it.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Solemnity of the Anniversary of the Dedication of St. Pius X Church
    Most of you are old enough (even I’m old enough!) to know the TV show that goes with these lyrics: “Making your way in the world today / Takes everything you got. / Taking a break from all your worries / It sure would help a lot. / Wouldn’t you like to get away? // Sometimes you want to go / Where everybody knows your name / And they’re always glad you came. / You want to be where you can see / The troubles are all the same. / You want to be where everybody knows your name.”  Of course, that TV show was “Cheers” (and now you’ll probably have that theme song stuck in your head).     
     But as we celebrate the Anniversary of the Dedication of this church, we celebrate not only the building, but what the building signifies, what it stands for, what it represents.  So many people find St. Pius X to be a kind, welcoming community, small enough where, at least at the Mass you go to, everybody does know your name, and generally they’re glad you came (we all have off days, right?).  St. Pius X is a smaller community, but it does encourage that sense of belonging and knowing the people at least who come to the same Mass, or join Bible studies, or volunteer together.
    And this building is celebrated because it is a foretaste of heaven.  In heaven, we are known better than we could ever be known here on earth.  Heaven is the place where God wants us to be, where He rejoices in our presence because He made us for heaven.  Heaven is that place where we take a perpetual break from our worries and troubles, basking in the love of the Trinity that brought all things into being, and sustains all things in being.  And this church is meant to remind us of that reality, and also to prepare us for that reality. 
    But sometimes we can get complacent about who is here.  We get so used to having the same people every week, that we can forget that, as people who are configured to Jesus in baptism, our mission is the same as Jesus’: to bring as many people as we can into the joy of heaven, the place where we are known and loved beyond all measure.  And before we know it, because we content with the people we have here, those people start to leave, as generations do, through changing jobs, or moving to be closer to family, or even death, until we’re a shell of the community we used to be.
    The way we used to keep parishes, the communities that gave us a foretaste of heaven, going was simply through baptism.  We conceived and birthed new members of our biological family that we also introduced into the family of God through baptism.  We lived the faith ourselves and shared it with our children, and that faith was also supported by the community.  But we no longer live in a world that supports faith, and we cannot rely on the osmosis of grace simply to do the work for us when we have children. 
    What Pope St. John Paul II, and Pope Benedict XVI, and Pope Francis have all encouraged us to do in the past forty years; what Bishop Boyea and our Diocesan Assemblies have encouraged us to do for the past ten years is not only to keep passing on the faith through baptism of our children, but also to bring in new people to the faith through our words and deeds.  Not pulling other Catholics into our parish from another Catholic parish, but reaching out to fallen-away Catholics, and reaching out to those who have no faith, and inviting them into this relationship with Jesus Christ where their name is known and people are glad they came. 
    Brothers and sisters, this doesn’t happen on accident.  This doesn’t happen by osmosis.  Sharing our faith only happens when we are purposefully doing it.  And if we’re not, we have to ask ourselves, why don’t I want someone to be in this community?  Why don’t I want to share with others a relationship with Jesus?  Are we afraid that it will make this place less of a home?  Are we afraid that Jesus cannot love other people without lessening His love for us?  If this is such a great community, which I know it to be, then why not invite others into that greatness? 
    St. Pius X church was consecrated on 23 September 1956, 63 years ago.  Priests, religious, and parishioners have worked hard to have this place be like “Cheers,” a place where you are known and loved, a place where you can offer your worries to God and be transformed by His grace, a place that anticipates that joy and peace and love of heaven.  Are we willing to invite others into this community?  Are we willing to invite others to the goodness that we have found here?  Do we really want others to have this foretaste of heaven?  Only you can answer that question, and the answer will be manifest in what you do.

Dona Nobis Pacem

***Please Note: This Homily was given off-the-cuff,

and the text below represents my best attempt to reconstruct what was said***

        This past week as I was looking over the readings for this Sunday, and praying on what the Lord wanted me to preach on, I was led to talk about the end of the world and the end of our life, and how we view death, either as a thief who steals our life, or as a messenger who announces to us the news that the Bridegroom of our souls is ready to greet us at the end of our life.
        But as I turned on the news on Friday afternoon, and learned what all of you have since learned through the television, newspaper, or radio, about the terrorist attacks by ISIS in Paris and Beirut, as well as the martyring of 147 Christians in Kenya by El Shabab, the homily I wrote didn't seem as fitting.
        When horrible events like the ones we have heard or read about around the world this weekend, we can feel helpless and wonder what we can do in the face of such hatred and violence.  It seems so overwhelming, and we feel so small.  But we are not helpless, and there are ways that we can respond to these tragedies.
        The first thing that we can do is to affirm that God never, ever asks a person to do violence in His Name.  Pope St. John Paul II, Pope Benedict, and Pope Francis have all reaffirmed recently that such acts are contrary to God's nature, and God would never invite a person to do violence in His Name.  In Jesus, God revealed that He is Love, and that He would rather die for our sins than have us suffer any violence due to sin.
        The second thing we can do is pray for peace and justice.  We have come together to pray today.  Our Mass prayers today are from the Mass for the Preservation of Peace and Justice.  So we come together at this Mass and we ask God to give us peace: the peace of Christ which is His Easter gift; the peace of God which is not the mere cessation of violence, but which is wholeness.  We come together at this Mass to pray for justice, because injustice is so often the cause of violence and terror.  We pray that God will give us His peace and His justice.
        The third thing that we can do to work against evil is to be people of peace and justice.  If we wish to have peace in our world, we must be peaceful people.  When we are people of peace in our families, with friends, in our workplace, on the road, and with everyone we meet, God's peace spreads to those people, who can spread it to those they know, and so peace spreads.  Peace, like love, is diffusive: it seeks to spread itself.  If we wish to have justice in our world, then we must be people of justice, people who give others the respect and dignity that they deserve as human beings created in the image and likeness of God.  When we are people of justice in our families, with friends, in our workplace, on the road, and with everyone we meet, God's justice spreads.
        In the face of such horrific attacks, we can feel like there is nothing that we can do.  But we can respond by praying for peace and justice, and working for peace in justice in our own life.  In those ways, we will promote peace in our communities and in our world.