Come, and You Will See

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time-St. Pius X

    Once the Bishop Boyea decreed that St. Pius X parish would be closed and which date the closing Mass would be, I was curious about what the reading would be for the week before (today), the last time I would preach as pastor of St. Pius X parish.  The last homily of a pastor at a parish is always a big homily, but especially when the parish is closing.
    So as I looked for the Gospel today, I was grateful that this Gospel passage would close out my preaching at St. Pius X.  This Gospel of the call of St. Andrew, St. John, and St. Peter (formerly named Simon) may not seem perfect, but it truly is.
    Today, and even more so next week, you may have this sense of, “What am I going to do?  Where am I going to go?”  In this way, you are like St. Andrew and St. John, whom St. John the Baptist directs to Jesus.  Today, as then, Jesus asks you, “‘What are you looking for?’”  Your answers certainly have a common thread, but also are as diverse as each person is.  Each of you seeks something the same and something different from the Lord.  Perhaps your question is like St. Andrew and St. John’s: “‘Where are you staying?’”  Or maybe better for today and next week, “Where are you?”  There is nothing wrong with that question.  All honest questions are welcome to the Messiah.
    Today, Jesus says to you, as He did to Andrew and John, “‘Come, and you will see.’”  Jesus didn’t tell them all that would happen to them over the next three years.  He didn’t immediately give them the term “Apostle.”  He simply invited them to stay with Him, and they did, starting with that day.  
    On 29 June 1955, Bishop Joseph H. Albers, first bishop of Lansing, erected St. Pius X parish.  And on 7 August of the same year, Fr. John A Blasko, the founding pastor, celebrated the first Mass in the Flint CIO Labor Temple at the corner of Corunna and Downey.  On those days, and all the days that followed, the invitation was the same: Come, and you will see.  Jesus didn’t show us then the ups and downs of the parish; the different locations where Mass would be said; the different priests who would serve as pastor or parochial vicar; or even how long the parish would last.  He simply said, “‘Come, and you will see.’”  And we have seen God working.  For 68 years and 7 months God has revealed Himself.  He has done so through the Mass, through the sisters and lay people who taught in the school, through the CCD classes, through the faith-sharing groups, through the food pantry, through the priests, through the buildings, and through the parishioners who became more like family.  
    And next week, as Bishop Boyea closes the doors to this church and declares it de-consecrated, the message will not change.  Jesus will still invite you: Come, and you will see.  And whether you stay with Jesus by joining St. Matthew or by joining another parish, Jesus wants you to stay with Him.  Today: stay with Him.  Tomorrow: stay with Him.  The rest will work itself out.  As long as you stay with Him.
    It wouldn’t always be easy.  Simon, after meeting the Lord, got a new name.  This group of three would grow to a group of twelve, which would shrink by one when Judas betrayed the Lord, and then would add Matthias and later on Paul.  Christ would demonstrate great miracles like the feeding of 5,000 with fives loaves and two fish.  Pharisees and scribes would seemingly constantly harass this wandering Rabbi and His disciples.  Most would abandon the Lord after He said that they had to eat His flesh and drink His blood to have life within them.  All of Jerusalem would welcome Him right before Passover, and then they would all yell out, “Crucify him!” five days later.  All but John and Peter would abandon the Lord after He was arrested, and even then Peter would deny he even knew Jesus.  Talk about your ups and downs.  But, even after abandoning Him, they would gather to stay in the place He celebrated the First Mass with them, and see Him risen from the dead and receive both His peace and His commission to spread the Gospel.  
    It has been and always will be the same: someone points out Jesus to us, and Jesus invites us to stay with Him.  It’s that simple and that complicated.  Stay with Jesus; stay with the Church.  I don’t know what that will entail for you, but the Lord of History, Jesus Christ, does.  What will happen if you stay with Jesus?  “‘Come, and you will see.’”

Joy and Sorrow

Nativity of the Lord: At the Vigil Mass
    This is certainly a unique Christmas Mass.  On the one hand tonight is a time of great rejoicing as we celebrate the birth of our God and Redeemer in the flesh.  On the other hand, this will be the last Christmas this church building will experience as a Catholic church.  For decades, families have gathered on the evening of 24 December to begin their celebration of Christmas by worshiping God.  Bittersweet does not begin to describe what so many of you, and I, are feeling tonight.  I’m not sure there is a word that can quite communicate all the emotions of this final St. Pius X Christmas Mass.

    But while we may vividly understand the prophet Isaiah talking about Israel seeming forsaken, or the land desolate, notice that those terms do not define Israel.  Instead, Isaiah prophecies that Israel shall be called “‘My Delight’” and the land “‘Espoused.’  For the Lord delights in you and makes your land his spouse.”  And, as the Psalmist says, forever God will maintain his kindness toward David and his descendants, and his covenant stands firm.  God has not abandoned us, nor can His covenant with us ever fade away.
    Indeed, even the Nativity itself had a tinge of struggle and sorrow.  What mother would want to give birth to her child, especially a child she knew to be the Son of God, in a cave?  Mary and Joseph were forced to go to Bethlehem to register for the Roman census.  A census was against what God had commanded, and it was being done by a foreign, occupying army.  Forty days after Christmas, when Mary and Joseph presented the Christ child in the temple, Simeon would tell Mary that her heart would be pierced.  And by the time Jesus was two, King Herod would try to kill Him, and kill many other baby boys, as a way to try to get rid of this newborn king. 
    And we also know that God’s ultimate plan, a plan that Jesus fully accepted in His human will, was to die on the cross so that sin and death would be defeated.  So while the Incarnation brought such great joy, it also made possible the worst offense to God that we could have ever committed: killing Him. 
    Still, even with being born in a cave; even with the sorrow that Mary would experience; even with the slaughter of the Holy Innocents; even with the rejection of His own people; even with the crucifixion; God did not abandon us, and brought joy to take the place of all that sorrow because He rose from the dead and defeated sin and death so that we could go to heaven and be perfectly happy with Him for eternity.  No matter how bad things got, God always brought joy and new life. 
    And He does that today.  God gives us the joy as celebrating, one last time, as a parish family, along with the yearly visitors we get for this solemn evening.  He is today, as much as He was some two thousand years ago, Emmanuel, God with us, who will not abandon us.  God will help us to continue to practice our faith in the coming months, just as He helped us practice our faith in this parish for almost seventy years.  God will bring joy and new life out of sorrow and death every time, as long as we remain close to Him and stay faithful to Him. 
    That joy and new life most often come in unexpected times and places.  Remember that no one cared about Mary when she conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit.  She wasn’t a powerful earthly queen; she wasn’t a well-known personality or religious figure.  She was a humble young woman, dedicated to doing God’s will.  Bethlehem, as the prophet Micah says, was the “least among the clans of Judah.”  The Roman province of Judea was not a metropolitan center of activity, but a backwater part of the Empire.  And while Mary and Joseph were both of the house of David, their kingly family had long since lost any political power or prestige.  But from these small, unnoticed, unspectacular circumstances, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah would be born and would begin to do what no one else could do: save the human race. 
    And so God will do with us, if we cooperate with His will.  He will raise up the humble, strengthen the weak, and continue His salvation through those who continue to cooperate with Jesus.  He doesn’t need prosperity or clout; all He needs is our willingness to follow His plan. 
    I will end tonight with the words that Pope St. Leo the Great.  Pope St. Leo the Great was supreme pontiff from 440 until 461, a time of great decline in the Roman Empire.  Barbarians were sacking and taking control of lands that had one been ruled by Rome.  False teachings persisted.  Disease and death were everywhere.  His time, like our own, was not easy.  And yet, for the celebration of Christmas, he writes:
 

Dearly beloved, today our Savior is born; let us rejoice.  Sadness should have no place on the birthday of life.  The fear of death has been swallowed up; life brings us joy with the promise of eternal happiness.  No one is shut out from this joy; all share the same reason for rejoicing.  Our Lord, victor over sin and death, finding no man free from sin, came to free us all.  […] When the angels on high are so exultant at this marvelous work of God’s goodness, what joy should it not bring to the lowly hearts of men?

Despite any darkness that comes our way, Jesus, the Light of the World, dispels it all and enlightens us so that we can live in the joy of His radiance.  We are the delight of the Lord, and His spouse.  As long as we stay with Him, no sadness can ruin the joy that belongs to us as sons and daughters in the Son of God, who tomorrow was born for us, Christ the Lord.

No Golden Age

Fifth Sunday of Easter
    We often tend to think of the early Church as perfect, where everything went as the apostles wanted it to go, where it was easy to follow Christ, and there were no struggles.  Today’s first reading should let us know that it was not as easy as we may have imagined.  Yes, the Apostles were filled with the Holy Spirit, and many Jews were joining the Church by becoming baptized.  Even Greeks were seeking baptism and following Christ as His disciples in His new Church.  But the Greek-speaking Jews (St. Luke uses the word Hellenists) started to complain that their widows didn’t seem to get the same care as the Hebrew widows.  It also sounds like the Apostles had their hands full, and perhaps had too many responsibilities, which made their service less than it could have been.
    So, they created a new set of ministers in the Church, deacons, who would receive the Holy Spirit, and would take over the mission of service at table from the Apostles, so that the Apostles could focus on prayer and preaching the Gospel.  They chose seven men, including St. Stephen, to fill this new office in the Church.  We know the rest of the story: Stephen also starts preaching, and ends us getting stoned to death.  More and more persecutions start, and St. James the Greater, the brother of St. John, is martyred.  Antagonism becomes more and more heated between the members of the early Church and the Jewish leaders, who thought that Jesus was a heretic and led people away from God.  So maybe it wasn’t quite as easy and perfect as we so often imagine.
    Why mention this?  Because we ourselves experience difficult times in the Church, but it helps to know that it’s never been easy for the Church.  There are always new challenges and new opportunities for the Church.  There are always periods of growth, and periods of decline, whether from internal or external forces.  Even as we may be convinced that we are not in a golden age of the Church, there truly has never been a golden age: each epoch of history had its own joys and struggles to which the Church had to adjust.

    And while God desires all to be saved, and we know the ordinary path to salvation runs through baptism and daily living the life to which Christ calls us, God has also allowed periods of decline, not only in one parish, or one diocese, but sometimes every across countries.  The example that comes to my mind most often is North Africa.  North Africa, because of its connection to Rome, had been a vibrant area of the Catholic Faith.  Some of the greatest saints and theological writers had come from there, including St. Athanasius, St. Anthony, St. Cyril of Alexandria, St. Cyprian, and St. Augustine of Hippo.  There were struggles, as many of those saints had to deal with heresies that would spring up from time to time, but the faith was strong.  But then, the barbarians from Europe swept across much of North Africa from the west, and the newly formed Islamic religion came from the east shortly thereafter, and Catholicism was more or less snuffed out entirely in the matter of a hundred years or so.  Why did God allow this?  I couldn’t tell you.  But allow it He did.  Did it mean He loved North Africa any less than the rest of the world?  Certainly not.  But those few who remained had to adjust to a new way of living their faith in the midst of fewer structures and more regular persecution.
    How does the Church survive such struggles?  We stay faithful to Christ and following Him, we ask the Holy Spirit to guide us, and we live up to our call to be “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own,” as St. Peter said in our second reading.  We ask the Holy Spirit to guide us, and follow the Apostles, as the Church did in our first reading.  We do not give in to the temptation to let our hearts be troubled, but have faith in God–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit–knowing that God’s ways are sometimes mysterious, but are always for our good.
    In our own diminishment as a parish, we can easily fall to the temptation to despair, to not trust in God’s plan.  But, as we prepare to meet this Wednesday, I would invite you to do what the Church has always done during difficult times: pray and trust in the Holy Spirit.  That’s why I invited you last week to pray the novena to the Holy Spirit, asking for His guidance for our parish, whatever the will of God may be.  And, as I also said last week, I don’t know exactly what that will might be; we will discern it together on Wednesday, given the facts that we have, and using the reason that God gave to us to help us to follow His will. 
    But the key is that, whatever you decide to recommend to Bishop Boyea after this Wednesday’s meeting, God calls us to remain faithful to Him and continue to not only say that we are Catholic, but show it by our actions, both in this parish and in the wider community.  People are still hungry to know the love of the Father, and Jesus reveals that to us, and He calls us to reveal Him to others.  No matter how the realities of the structural church change and call for adjustments, if we follow the Holy Spirit and live as disciples of Christ, we can have the confidence that we will one day see the Father, and be enveloped by His love in the kingdom of heaven.  There is not golden age of the Church.  There is simply the streets of gold upon which we hope to walk in heaven, as a result of our fidelity to Christ through all the days of our life on earth.  That is our ultimate goal, and the Holy Spirit will help us to get there.

Going Through Difficult Times with St. Pius X

Solemnity of St. Pius X
    We certainly live in tumultuous times, both locally, nationally, and internationally.  As a parish, we continue to seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit so that we can best serve the mission we have to proclaim the Gospel, whether as a part of this parish, or if this branch should be pruned to allow the rest of the vine to produce more fruit.  Our nation continues to see unrest, political intrigue, and scarcity of some supplies.  Wars and threats of war exist around our globe.  Even our beloved Catholic Church seems to be afflicted with confusion and antagonism.  With so many things changing, we look for a stabilizing factor to keep us on the right path.

    Pope St. Pius X reigned through his own tumultuous times.  His baptismal name was Giuseppe Sarto.  He came from a poor family, but his family valued education, so he walked 3.7 miles to school each day (though likely not uphill both ways).  He was the second born of ten children, one of whom died after six days, one of whom died after six months.  His election as pope came after Jan Cardinal Kosielsko of Poland, in the name of Emperor Franz Josef I, vetoed the election of Mariano Cardinal Rampolla as pope.  While the veto was rejected, Cardinal Rampolla lost enough support to continue voting on who would be pope.  Cardinal Sarto thought death a better fate than being elected pope, but that fate would be his.  He was elected pope on 4 August 1903, and took the name Pius X, both out of admiration for recent popes who also chose the name Pius, and stating, “As I shall suffer, I shall take the name of those Popes who also suffered.”  He had as his motto: Instaurare Omnia in Christo; To Renew All Things in Christ.
    During Pius X’s reign, Communism was gaining strength in Russia.  There was a Mexican Civil War.  And World War I broke out two months before Pius X’s death.  There were theological controversies running rampant, leading to Pope Pius X requiring all priests to take an Oath against Modernity, Modernity being the name Pius X gave to the recent group of heresies that was springing up.  The world and the Church seemed to be in turmoil, much like our own days.
    What kept Pope St. Pius X grounded was the Eucharist.  He had a great devotion to the Eucharist, and encouraged children to receive the Eucharist at the age of reason (around 7), rather than the previous age of twelve.  He wanted people, as long as they were not aware of grave sins, to receive the strength to live the Catholic life from the Body and Blood of Christ, because Pius X knew that without Christ, we can do nothing as disciples, and if we wish to remain strong, we must stay with Christ, even as the waves broke all around the barque or ship of Peter. 
    As we, as a parish, go through this ten month study of the current financial and demographic reality of our parish, to help us discern where our trajectory is as a parish; as our government seems to work more and more for the benefit of those who have power and wealth; as people within our country seem to war against each other, and wars and attacks between nations seem to grow with each passing month; as so many Catholics abandon the faith that raised them, or reject the timeless and infallible teachings of faith and morals that have defined Catholic identity; we, took, might wonder what we are to do to be strong and have a firm base.  That strength and that firm base come from where it always has and always will: Jesus.
    If we wish to be strong, if we wish to weather these storms around us, we, too, need to be close to Jesus in the Eucharist, as Pope St. Pius X recommended over a century ago.  For it is only when we are connected to Jesus that our faith can survive.  Our love for Jesus is shown in a primary way by asking Him for forgiveness when we have strayed from the way of life that we are called to live by Christ, and then, having been forgiven, receiving in a state of grace the flesh that gives life to those who receive it, the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.  The Eucharist is the nourishment that feeds our soul, that strengthens the muscles of our faith, that provides the fuel to keep us walking on the pilgrimage home to heaven.

    But receiving the Eucharist is not meant to be the end of staying close to Christ, but the catalyst to then sharing that strength and firm base that we have in Jesus.  Jesus asked Peter today if Peter loved Him.  When Peter said that he did, Jesus gave Peter a mission.  When Giuseppe Sarto was elected pope, Jesus asked Giuseppe to practice that love by shepherding the entire Church of Christ.  Each time we receive Jesus as an act of love, Jesus gives us a mission to share that grace and love with others.  We, as sheep of the Lord’s flock, are to find the lost sheep and invite them back to the fold, so that they may recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd and find the pastures of eternal life. 
    That may seem difficult.  It may seem hopeless and futile.  Amid so many concerns, why still remain faithful to our Church?  Why spread that good news to others?  Because the storms will pass, the tumult will subside, and Christ will be the One who remains.  Will we stay connected to Him, especially through the worthy reception of the Eucharist, and so outlast whatever trials and tribulations come our way?  Pope St. Pius X, help us to stay faithful to Christ so that all things may be renewed by Him; Pope St. Pius X, pray for us!

Communion with God

 Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

    One of the questions people have been asking me most about my role as pastor of both St. Pius X and St. Matthew (especially now that the new Mass schedule has been released) is how I’m not going to burn out.  And it’s a valid concern; there’s a lot of work and I’ll be kept quite busy.  But I’m not just relying on myself.  I have some good friends that I see almost every week who allow me to relax with them, have some dinner, and set aside the concerns of work.  Sometimes we run together, we often eat (and drink) together, and we just hang out.  My time with them allows my batteries to recharge so that I’m ready to go with whatever the week throws at me.
    I think we all have people that we lean on to help us unwind.  For some people it’s a phone call to mom and/or dad.  For others it’s a spouse or a friend.  Maybe it’s your Bible study group, or a group of friends with whom you go to dinner.  But time with those people seems to make things better, and allows us to enjoy life again, and handle whatever stresses come our way.
    As we celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, we celebrate our God who is both One and a Communion of Three Divine Persons.  Jews and Muslims recognize the oneness of God, but only Christians recognize the Trinity of Persons.  We believe in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, One God, equal in dignity and majesty, co-eternal.  God is transcendent, beyond the confines of our reason.  And yet, in Jesus, God the Son, God also humbled Himself to imminent, to be like us in all things but sin and to be with us in communion.  
    God didn’t need us.  God–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit–is perfect in Himself, and lacks nothing.  And yet, out of an abundance of love, God created the universe and everything in it, and then, even beyond any imagining, extended that perfect Communion in Himself to the creatures He had made in His image and likeness.  
    That’s the message we hear from Deuteronomy in the first reading.  Moses says, “‘Did a people ever hear the voice of God speaking from the midst of fire, as you did, and live?  Or did any god venture to go and take a nation for himself from the midst of another nation?’”  We might not think of that as so great, but, as Moses points out, it was unheard of!  God didn’t simply deign to speak with His creatures, but saved them from their oppressors and gave them a law to help them live the fullness of life for which God created them.  And, as far as Moses was concerned, that was proof enough that God is God, and that He is worth obeying.
    But Jesus did more than simply speak to us from fire and thunder.  Jesus spoke to us while looking like us and sharing our human nature.  He communicated even more of what would truly make us happy and give us joy.  Jesus built on the Ten Commandments that were given on Mount Sinai with the Eight Beatitudes that He gave in the Sermon on the Mount.  He filled out the deeper meaning of the law, and showed us that true happiness comes from giving of ourselves, rather than taking.  
    But by Jesus’ Incarnation, and then by His Passion and Death, He allowed us to be joined to Him through baptism, and to be sustained by Him in the Eucharist, so that the Communion that the Most Holy Trinity enjoys, we could also enjoy.  St. Paul writes about this in the second reading as he talks about our adoption that the Holy Spirit accomplishes so that we are children of God the Father, brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ.  We are not simply slaves to a law, but co-heirs to glory and the Communion of God.
    And communion is what God wants for us: He wants to have communion with us.  And that is what truly sustains us, even in the most stressful times of our life.  Friends are great, and I value mine.  But God is the one who can sustain us through anything.  He lightens our sorrows and increases our joys.  He gives us strength and wisdom to deal with the hardest parts of life, beyond even what our human friends, even beyond what a spouse, can help.  
    And that is the greatest gift of our God.  He is transcendent, higher than the heavens.  And yet He is also imminent, closer to us than we are to ourselves.  God does not only want us to know that He is–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit–a Communion of Divine Persons, He also wants us to be united to that Communion.
    So when things are rough and when things are easy; when life is painful and when life is full of joy; when storm clouds gather and when the sun shines brightly; yes, turn to friends on earth to share in the experiences of life, but turn even more to God, the Communion of Three Divine Persons, and know the strength and happiness of being in Communion with our Creator.

Broken for the Lord

 Solemnity of St. Pius X

    There’s a Trooper I know who used to work in Flint, but now works for our Aviation Unit, flying helicopters.  He and I both enjoy drinking bourbon (a quality pastime if ever there was one), as well as watching movies.  Obviously the latter has become impossible in theaters during the pandemic.  But, over the past couple of months, we’ve gotten together to watch movies in each other’s homes, either on Netflix or on DVDs that I own.  His wife is not a big mafia movie fan, so when she’s been gone, I’ve introduced him to “The Godfather” trilogy (we’ve finished one and two so far).  
    In the second movie (spoiler alert!), there’s a scene where Michael Corleone and his brother Fredo are in pre-Castro Cuba celebrating the New Year in the presidential palace.  Michael has learned that his brother, Fredo, has betrayed Michael and his family to competing interests, and in one of the famous movie lines of all time, Michael says, “I know it was you, Fredo.  You broke my heart.  You broke my heart.”  Hold that thought.

    This weekend we celebrate our heavenly patron, Pope St. Pius X.  He was known for many things, but one of the things he is especially known for is lowering the age for First Holy Communion to the age of reason, usually around 7, and encouraging frequent reception of Holy Communion (as well as of confessing regularly).  For that reason, he is often called Pope of the Blessed Sacrament.  
    Perhaps we have heard the encouragement to be Eucharistic people.  And that certainly is a good thing, especially as we celebrate the Pope of the Blessed Sacrament.  Maybe we think that means that we need to go to Mass (and confession) frequently, or spend more time in adoration.  Both of those things are good, and are ways to be Eucharistic Catholics.  But sometimes being Eucharistic Catholics is a bit more messy than simply going to Mass.
    It’s like First Communions themselves.  On the holy cards we’re used to seeing cute little girls in a white dress with a veil, kneeling down, about to receive the Sacred Host, or a little boy, all gussied up in a suit and tie, with an angelic look on his face.  Any parent knows that, while that one moment may happen, it was preceded by the young girl not wanting her hair done the way you want it done, or trying to brush out the tangles five minutes after you were supposed to leave for church; or by that young boy, dressed up and ready to go, who found a cool-looking frog or snake and just had to pick it up, never worrying that the animal may release a liquid surprise on the hands, or even the suit, of the boy.  The reality is often messier than the image we try to create in our minds.
    The same goes for being Eucharistic Catholics.  Again, going to Mass (and confession) frequently is a great thing.  Spending time with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, especially during Eucharistic Adoration, is a marvelous way to grow in our love and appreciation of the Eucharist.  But another part of being a Eucharistic Catholic is having happen to us what happened to Jesus, and to Michael Corleone: our hearts are broken.  
    The Eucharist comes from grains of wheat that have been crushed into flour.  And so, we are invited to have the same happen to us: to be crushed to make of ourselves an offering to God.  The flour is added to water, and is baked to make the unleavened hosts that we use for the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ.  So for us, when our sufferings are added to the water of baptism, and baked in the fire of the Holy Spirit, they become an offering that we can give to God, which He receives, and transforms by His power, into something that gives us life.   
    Being Eucharistic Catholics doesn’t mean we betray our family to its enemies, and celebrate in Cuba.  But it does mean that our hearts are going to be broken, just as the Sacred Heart of Jesus was.  We don’t have to go looking for that suffering; it will find us easily enough.  But when it comes, we have the choice to accept it as merely people of the world, and try to ignore it, fight our way out of it, or pass it along to another.  Or we can be Eucharistic Catholics and accept necessary sufferings, unite them to Jesus on the cross in His perfect offering to the Father, and receive God’s life-giving grace from that sacrifice. Suffering is not the only part of being a Eucharistic Catholic, but during this continued pandemic, we can find ways to unite our sufferings with Jesus and grow in new ways in our faith life.
    Being crushed was the path that Jesus took when He suffered and died.  That was the way of the Master; that is the way of his disciples.  In the first “Godfather” movie, (again: spoiler alert!) Vito brings the dead body of his son, Santino, aka Sonny, and says to the undertaker: “Look how they massacred my boy.”  God the Father could have said the same thing about Jesus.  And yet, Jesus willingly offered Himself to the Father, in all the pain and the suffering of the crucifixion, so that we could be reconciled to the Father.  Jesus’ love for His Father and for us, His Bride, meant suffering.  Our love for Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, as well as for each other, will also mean suffering in our lives, suffering that can be salvific.  Just as the wheat is ground so that it can become bread which gives eternal life, so our suffering can become an acceptable sacrifice which, when united to Jesus, brings salvation to us or to people we love.  
    A broken heart is part of being a Eucharistic Catholic: a heart broken for the Lord and His people.  Jesus asks us today if we love Him enough to be broken and offered to the Father.  He asks us as He asked St. Peter and St. Pius X: “‘Do you love me?’”

Challenges for the Holy Family

Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph

This Christmas was different than in years past.  In the past the tradition was always to visit my mom’s parents on Christmas Eve, celebrate Christmas as an immediate family Christmas Day morning, and then go to my dad’s parents for Christmas Day dinner.  Then, when I became a priest, we tweaked things a little to adjust to my new responsibilities.  This year, with both my mom’s mom and my dad’s mom deceased (and I think many of us know how mom’s are often the glue that holds the family together), we celebrated our immediate family Christmas on Christmas Eve morning, and invited both grandfathers over later in the morning so that we could see them.

Those changes weren’t easy.  And this year especially it felt like Christmas celebrations were truncated, even though I got to see my immediate family and both grandfathers.  I am certainly the kind of person who likes to leave traditions the way that they have been.  But, with both grandmothers now gone from this earth, it was inevitable that things would change.  And, we’ll see what happens for Christmas 2019.

In our parish family over this past year I’ve buried my fair share of grandparents, and some younger people, too.  We’ve had 19 funerals of active, sometimes very active, parishioners since 2018 began.  The trend, going back at least to 2014, but likely before, of losing 80-90 parishioners per year according to our October counts, has continued to the present, where we’re down to just under 400 people who attend Mass at St. Pius X each weekend.  These changes to our parish family precipitate adjustments, just like changes in our biological family yield new realities.  Adjustments are difficult.  Changes can be hard, especially when they are not always communicated well or received well.  Each member of the family takes changes differently, and that’s no different with our parish family.  Over my past three years here, there have been some who have been very welcoming to changes of different kinds that were made, about 25% of the people.  There have been some who have been very vocal about not liking the changes, about 25% of the people.  There have been some who have not communicated delight or disgust, about 50% of the people.  Some have joined our parish family because of changes; some have left our parish family because of changes.  

As we celebrate the Holy Family, I think we forget that their life was not easy, not really in any way.  Before Joseph and Mary were married, Mary comes to Joseph and says that she’s pregnant, and that the child is not his.  But don’t worry, it’s the Son of God, conceived by the Holy Spirit!  Talk about changes!!  Then, as Mary’s ready to give birth, Joseph and Mary, pregnant with Jesus, have to travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem for a census put on by the Roman government, which was none too kind to Jews.  Then, they finally make it to Bethlehem, only to be told that there’s no room (because of the census), they should have left earlier if they needed a place to stay, so they go to a nearby cave, which I’m sure is the exact place any mother would want to give birth, especially when you’re child is the Son of God!

After settling in Bethlehem for around 2 years, the Magi visit, and bring unique gifts.  But then, Joseph is warned in a dream that he has to take Mary to Egypt, because King Herod wants to kill Jesus.  Egypt was not a place a Jew went willingly.  When Joseph, the son of Jacob, from the Old Testament, went down to Egypt, it eventually led to 400 years of slavery.  Deciding to settle in Egypt is like asking a Spartan to settle down in Ann Arbor, or a Wolverine to settle down in Columbus.  And yet, on the road again, Joseph, Mary, and the Christ Child are obedient to God.  After King Herod dies, the Holy Family travels back to Judea, but because of another not-so-hot king, they again settle in Nazareth, a very backwoods part of the area called Galilee.  And we all heard the story about losing Jesus in the temple.  And then Joseph dies sometime before Jesus turns 30, and Mary follows Jesus, because she has no one to take care of her.  

The Holy Family was a family that was, more often than not, going through changes and challenges.  And yet, they are our example of how to respond: by trusting in God.  They didn’t complain; they didn’t tell God that if there was one more change they were going to stop believing in Him.  Theirs was a true example of patient perseverance in following God.

St. Paul also reminds us how we can all navigate changes that happen in our lives, both those in our biological family and those in our parish family: “heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another.  […] And over these put on love.”  That’s how we can imitate the Holy Family every day.  It’s certainly a tall order, but it’s also a recipe for how to be saints.

Just like the Holy Family, our life will probably include changes, some of which will be difficult.  But we all can look to the Holy Family to see how to trust in God, to remain faithful, even in the midst of difficult changes.  

Unexpected Pastures

Fourth Sunday of Easter

This Sunday of Easter is called Good Shepherd Sunday, and it’s not hard to understand why: our Gospel today comes from the Gospel according to John where Jesus refers to Himself as the Good Shepherd.  I think that we all see the necessity of Jesus leading us, like a shepherd, and, in fact, probably the most popular Psalm in the Bible is Psalm 23, which usually is remembered for it’s first line, “The Lord is my shepherd.”  

A shepherd is someone who leads us, and sometimes we don’t want to be led.  Often we want to lead ourselves, to determine our own direction and our own destinies.  But we proclaim this weekend that God is the one who is supposed to lead us.  Without God we would be lost and in danger, like sheep without a shepherd.  There are many other hirelings who tell us that they will lead us to good places, but Jesus reminds us today that they run away when danger comes, and they often do not lead us where we truly want to go.

I know in my own life Jesus, the Good Shepherd, has led me places I never imagined I would go.  If I simply think about my assignments as a priest, when I was meeting with Bishop Boyea to be approved for ordination to be a priest, I was wondering where he would send me.  The parishes I thought would be open for a newly-ordained priest would be Queen of the Miraculous Medal in Jackson (where I had interned as a seminarian), St. Gerard in Lansing (where I had lived for a summer in college), St. Thomas Aquinas/St. John Church & Student Center in East Lansing (where I went to middle school and where I had spent a couple of summers in college), and St. John the Evangelist in Fenton, where I was then serving as a deacon.  In my heart, I wanted to stay at St. John the Evangelist in Fenton, as I had grown to love that community, and knew how things operated with Fr. Harvey.  But Jesus, the Good Shepherd, through Bishop Boyea, sent me to St. Thomas Aquinas in East Lansing.  Even though it wasn’t my first choice, I had a great four years in East Lansing, made some lifelong friends, and learned a lot about parish ministry.

Then, when my first four years were coming to a close, I thought I might become an administrator in a new parish.  There were a number of parishes that were open, but none of them really jumped out at me as a place for which I should apply.  Jesus, the Good Shepherd, through Bishop Boyea, sent me to St. Joseph in Adrian, on the outskirts of the Diocese of Lansing.  I had never even really visited Adrian before.  And yet, the people of St. Joseph became near and dear to my heart and it was a good, two-year assignment which helped me learn how to be a pastor.

In my second year in Adrian, Jesus, the Good Shepherd, through Bishop Boyea, again led me somewhere I never imagined to go: Flint.  I was very happy in Adrian, but Bishop Boyea said that, because of other moves, he needed me to go to St. Pius X.  I told him that if that’s where God wanted me, then that’s where I would go.  We have certainly had our struggles here at St. Pius X since I arrived, but I love it here, and I love you, my parish family.

In each of my moves, the Good Shepherd has taken me to pastures I never expected.  And in each move, I have found blessings more than I ever would have expected at places that maybe I thought I would do well.  And that extends even beyond my parish assignments: Jesus, the Good Shepherd, continues to guide my formation as a priest.  That is greatly impacted by Bishop Boyea, my immediate shepherd, who, I know, loves me (as he does all his priests), but also challenges me (as he does with all his priests) to grow.

The People of God, the laity, are also called to grow in ways, sometimes that they never expected, and Jesus, the Good Shepherd, exercises his role as Shepherd through His priests.  This is also World Day of Prayer for Vocations.  Each vocation is a gift from God, and whether a person receives the Sacrament of Matrimony, makes vows in consecrated life, or receives the Sacrament of Holy Order, each is called to build up the Church, along with those perhaps not in one of those vocations temporarily or permanently.  But priests in a special way help make the Church.  Without priests, we do not have the ordinary way that God forgives our sins in the Sacrament of Penance, and without priests, we are not strengthened to live our universal vocation to be saints through the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist.  

And yet, some parents, or other family members, discourage their sons, grandsons, nephews, etc., to answer God’s call to become a priest.  As far as I know, no son of St. Pius X has ever been ordained a priest, or has even entered the seminary.  That is a very sad statistic.  Priesthood is not always easy; it is a sacrifice; and it requires a real man to step up and give his life away for the good of the People of God.  But it is also rewarding beyond any measure that I ever expected.  And I cannot imagine my life doing anything else (yes, that even includes being a police officer).  

So what can we do?  If you have a son or multiple sons, encourage them to think and pray about becoming a priest.  Always include it as an option for a future.  The same goes for if you have grandsons or nephews.  If you don’t, or can’t think of anyone who would be a good priest, then pray for the Holy Spirit to call one of the sons of St. Pius X to consider this vocation, maybe even if it’s simply trying out the seminary.  And pray for that man to be open to the Holy Spirit’s voice.  Another great way to promote the priesthood is to live married life faithful to the call in Holy Matrimony: a life of prayer, sacrifice for the other, and holiness.  Good priests come from good families.  

Jesus is our Good Shepherd, who sends us places sometimes we never expect.  He also sends us shepherds who care for us and help us to follow Him.  Pray for more men to respond to the call of priesthood: to a life of sacrifice, yes,  but also a life of great joy spent in imitation of the Good Shepherd, who calls us all to be saints, and leads us to green pastures.

New Life in God's Time

Fifth Sunday of Lent

Sometimes we have heard these stories in the Gospel so often, that we miss the parts that would have shocked the first listeners, or would shock anyone who is unfamiliar with the story.  The part that should have made us at least scratch our heads in today’s Gospel was, “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.  So when he heard that he was ill, he remained for two days in the place where he was.”  If you really love someone, why wouldn’t you go immediately to see them, hopefully getting to them before they die?!?  It’s not like they had stellar hospitals at the time of Jesus who could keep someone alive for a few more days in order for friends or family to visit.

Two things are clear from Scripture: the Lord desires life for His people; and sometimes the Lord delays (from our point of view) in giving that new life to His people.  

Our first reading, second reading, and Gospel all make clear that God desires life for His people.  Ezekiel prophesies that God will open the graves of His people and have them rise.  He will put His spirit in them so that they may have life, and settle them in their land.  This will be the proof that God is the Lord.  And St. Paul reminds us that, while the body is dead because of sin, the spirit is alive.  If we have the Spirit of God, the Holy Spirit, the one who raised Jesus from death to new life, then God will also give our mortal bodies new life, through the power of the Holy Spirit.  And our Gospel is, we can say, the fulfillment of Ezekiel, as Jesus proves He is God by raising Lazarus from the dead.  God, in the Person of Jesus, opens the grave of Lazarus, one of the People of God, and has him rise.  

The raising of Lazarus
From the Church of Sts. Martha, Mary, & Lazarus in Bethany

But those same readings, if we delve more deeply in them, also give us a less exciting piece of news: God sometimes waits to give new life to His people.  The prophet Ezekiel is writing to a people totally devoid of hope.  Because of their infidelity to the Lord, He has exiled them to Babylon, destroyed their temple, and they don’t know if they will ever return.  They are the living dead, zombies, we might say, as they live but without the love of their life: their land and their temple.  But Ezekiel reminds them that they will go back, and, after some years, they do, and they, metaphorically speaking, rise from their graves by returning to the land of Israel.  But they had to wait.

As St. Paul talks about the Holy Spirit raising us to life, he speaks about it in the present, as the Spirit gives us a new way of life in Christ, putting to death the works of the flesh.  But St. Paul also talks about how the Holy Spirit will raise up our mortal bodies.  This only happens after death, and not simply when we die, but at the end of time.  What the Church calls the general resurrection of the dead, will only come at the end of time (except for Mary, whose body was already raised up by a singular grace).  We have to wait.  

And in our Gospel, that odd paradox of Jesus hearing about one of His best friends being ill, one Jesus knows will be dead (though He uses the term “asleep,”), but Jesus waits two days.  And when Jesus arrives, Lazarus has already been dead four days.  As it turns out, even if Jesus would have left immediately, Lazarus would still have died two days before Jesus arrived.  But Jesus waits, though not without cause.  In fact, Jesus waits in order to prove beyond a doubt that He is God, and to work His greatest miracle during His earthly ministry.

Those two points are certainly true for us.  Jesus desires new life for us.  I am convinced that God has good things planned for St. Pius X, and I am happy to be a part of them, and to hopefully shepherd you as we find new life in Flint.  But, at least in some ways (and in those ways it goes without saying), we’re not there yet.  In some ways, we’re still in our graves, still in the tomb.  That’s a tough place to be.  But we cannot give ourselves life.  New life can only come from Christ, and on Christ’s terms and schedule.

Think about the Israelites.  They were so excited to leave Egypt!  No more slavery, no more Pharaoh!  But as soon as the first difficulty comes, they want to go back to Egypt.  At the Red Sea, as the Egyptians get closer and closer, they cry that they want to go back, until Moses splits the Red Sea and they pass to safety.  In the desert, the people start to complain that they don’t have meat or bread; they lack trust that God will provide; they don’t like waiting for new life in the Promised Land.  So they tell Moses it was better in Egypt, and that they’d rather go back.  They prefer the grave to new life, because they’re not convinced the new life is on the way.

God desires new life for us.  Of that I am sure.  But we’re not there yet.  We’re still in the desert, on our way to the Promised Land, on our way to new life.  The Lord invites us to have faith in Him, as Martha did, that we will rise.  To quote Jesus, “‘Do you believe this?’”