Tu Es Petrus

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
    “Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum.  Habemus papam!  Eminentissimum ac Reverendissimum Dominum, Dominum Robertum Franciscum, Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem Prevost, qui sibi nomen imposuit Leonem decimum quartum.”  I still remember hearing those words on 8 May 2025, and the shock of realizing that an American-born man had been elected Supreme Pontiff.  I pealed the bells at St. Matthew for numerous minutes and could not contain my excitement.  And then later to learn that Fr. Prevost had baptized a child here at St. Matthew even added to that joy.  If you haven’t seen our font since last year, you should take a look at the commemorative plaque that tells visitors that Pope Leo XIV celebrated baptism here in 1999.

Statue of St. Peter in front of the Basilica of St. Peter 

    There’s something about Peter.  We heard about Christ choosing Peter as the leader of the apostles, the one upon whom Christ would build His Church.  And after Pentecost, St. Luke takes great care to show that Peter leads the apostolic college.  He speaks for all at Pentecost and calls the people gathered there to believe in Jesus and be baptized for the forgiveness of sins.  As Peter and St. John the Apostle go to the temple, in the name of Christ Peter heals the man who was crippled, for which the Sanhedrin arrests Peter and John, who both say that they cannot help but proclaim Jesus as the Messiah, and the Sanhedrin tells them to stop, but Peter and John still share the Gospel.  St. Luke continues in Acts 5:15, “Thus they even carried the sick out into the streets and laid them on cots and mats so that when Peter came by, at least his shadow might fall on one or another of them.”  We see similar things even today as strangers will hand their infants to the pope as he rides in the popemobile, just to have the successor of Peter bless their child.  
    Christ set up His Church with Twelve Apostles, the new princes of the new Israel, just as the twelve sons of Jacob were the leaders of the nation of Israel as they migrated to Egypt.  But among these twelve Apostles, Christ gave special authority to St. Peter.  Jesus says in today’s Gospel that Peter holds the keys to the kingdom of heaven of binding and loosing, an authority of authentic teaching and forgiveness that all the Apostles would eventually receive, but Peter first.  In Luke 22:32, after prophesying that Peter would fall away, Jesus tells him, “‘once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers.’”  And in John 21:15-18, after hearing Peter say that he loved Jesus three times (ostensibly to make up for Peter’s threefold denial), Jesus commands Peter to feed Jesus’ lambs, tend His sheep, and feed His sheep.  And even at the Resurrection, St. John the Apostle waits for Peter to enter the empty tomb, even though John ran faster and arrived there first.  
    As Catholics, part of our faith, what it means to be Catholic, is that the pope is the visible sign of unity, with special authority, for the entire Church.  Certainly many other Christians do not recognize this, but it does not make it less true.  Even bishops, successors of the apostles, need someone to help them know when they are right and wrong, and the pope does that.  Does that mean the pope is always holy?  Certainly not.  Our own history bears this out, sadly, time and again, where popes had illegitimate children or “made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living,” to attribute a “Lord of the Rings” quote from “The Return of the King” to the dark times of the papacy.
    But still, we believe Christ’s words, that “‘the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against” the Church: that the pope will never teach anything authoritatively contrary to the will of God.  And we look to Peter as a sure guide of faith, though he is a man, just like any man, but still endowed with the greatest authority on earth, because it also touches into heaven.  
    So while the exercise of papal authority, especially in matters of discipline, ebbs and flows, what can never change is that Peter and his successors are the visible head of the Church, the Vicar of Christ for all who profess faith in Christ.  He is the Bishop of Rome; Vicar of Jesus Christ; Successor of the Prince of the Apostles; Supreme Pontiff (which means High Priest or Supreme Bridge-Builder, hearkening back to the role of the pagan Roman priests);  Patriarch of the West; Primate (or head bishop of a Catholic country) of Italy; Metropolitan Archbishop  of the Roman Province; Sovereign of Vatican City State; Servant of the Servants of God.  This last title, added by Pope St. Gregory the Great, reminds the pope that his special authority is not for him, but for us, as a way of serving the Church and giving us a true guide of what to believe and how to live.  As with any authority in the Church, it serves a greater purpose, and only is what it should be when the office-holders view their authority in view of service.  

    Why is the pope so special?  Because Peter was special.  Why was Peter so special?  Because of personal holiness?  Because of a special earthly wisdom?  Next week we’ll hear Jesus refer to his first pope as “Satan,” as Peter advises Jesus not to suffer for us and our salvation.  So no, it had nothing to do with special holiness or earthly wisdom.  Peter is special because God makes him special, and gives him greater responsibility as a sure guide for all in the Church.  Is it exciting that an American-born man ascended to the Chair of St. Peter?  Certainly!  But no matter whence the pope comes, the pope reminds us that we are connected to Jesus through the apostles, and especially through the Blessed Apostle Peter, Prince of the Apostles and Vicar of Christ.  Pray for Pope Leo XIV that he can live up to the great authority which has been bestowed upon him by the cardinals of the Church, and that he can truly be our visible sign of unity among all who follow Christ in truth and charity.

A Tradition Unlike Any Other

Third Sunday of Easter

    A few weeks back, during a few, rare downtimes on Palm Sunday weekend, I was able to tune in to the Masters Tournament at Augusta National coverage on TV.  I don’t golf, but there is something about the Masters which draws even non-golfers in.  While I was primarily rooting for Jordan Spieth, who ended up with a decent set of scores, I was also very happy to see Rory McElroy not only win his first green jacket, but also complete the career Grand Slam of winning all four major championships: the PGA Championship, US Open, Open Championship, and the Masters.  There’s something about the Masters that signals spring is finally here.  It’s not just the game itself; it goes beyond a simple few days in Georgia.
    The same could be said for our Gospel passage today.  But I want to focus more on the second part of the Gospel passage, Peter’s interaction with Jesus, which also goes beyond a simple apologetic conversation, though it is that.  Part of the beyond is Jesus again supporting Peter’s special role as pope and head of the Apostolic College, the group of apostles.  But it also demonstrates for us what confession is mean to be like.
    The Gospel writers are clear that Peter denied Jesus on Holy Thursday evening and into Good Friday.  They are clear that he wasn’t at the cross, but that, once the cock crowed after Peter had denied Christ, he went away weeping, knowing that he had betrayed the Lord.  But we never hear anything else, until this passage, about the reconciliation.  Peter had been going all this time after seeing the Risen Christ on Easter Sunday without dealing with his sin.  But now the Lord invites Him to reconcile.
    How many times do we carry sins with us, perhaps even avoiding confession because we are ashamed?  We, in our own way, have denied and betrayed the Lord.  And while we have later seen His goodness and His new life, we’re afraid to confront our sin.  But if we don’t reconcile, we can’t receive healing.  And if the wound is mortal, deadly, then we could perish forever.
    So the Lord invites us to speak with Him in confession, and the priest acts in His name, in persona Christi capitis, in the person of Christ the Head, we say in theological language.  And He asks us, “‘do you love me more than these?’”  Now, in the Gospel, perhaps Jesus meant more than the other apostles, or more than fishing.  But with us, the Lord asks us if we love Him more than we love our sins.  The act of confessing makes us confront what or who we love more.  
    In the Greek (and Venerable Fulton Sheen makes a whole homily about this), the type of love Jesus asks Peter is not the type of love that Peter responds to Jesus.  Jesus asks, <<𝛼𝛾𝛼𝜋𝛼𝜍 𝜇𝜀;>> or, “Do you love me with the love of God?”  Peter responds, <<𝜙𝜄𝜆𝜔 𝜎𝜀>> or “I love you with brotherly love.”  The second time Jesus asks the same question, and Peter responds the same way.  But the third time, Jesus asks, <<𝜙𝜄𝜆𝜀𝜄𝜍 𝜇𝜀;>> or “Do you love me with brotherly love?”  Hence, Peter gets upset that Jesus asked, not only a third time, but changed the type of love (though that was the love Peter could muster in response).  But he still responds in the same way.  
    Jesus desires us to have 𝛼𝛾𝛼𝜋𝜀, or caritas, or selfless, Godlike love.  But He knows we are weak, and He accepts that we can’t always affirm that.  So he takes what we can give.  When we sin, especially mortal sins, we should have perfect contrition: the sorrow that comes, “not because of the loss of heaven or the pains of hell, but most of all because they have offended thee, my God.”  Still, through the sacrament, God raises our imperfect contrition, the fear of punishment, and makes it perfect by His grace so that we can be forgiven.  

    Through the Sacrament of Penance, which we often call confession, God reconciles us to Himself, even when we’re not fully ready to be reconciled.  We need to be sorry in some sense, confess our mortal sins in kind and number, have a firm purpose to not commit sin again, and be ready to accept penance, but God knows that sometimes we cannot honestly say that we love Him the way He loves us.  Still, He doesn’t want anything to stand in the way of His relationship with us, so He forgives us.  He asks us to love Him and let that love be manifest in our actions.
    The Gospels tell us what Jesus truly did and taught for eternal salvation, as Dei Verbum, the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation from the Second Vatican Council taught.  But the Gospels go beyond the telling of true stories.  They also help us continue our life in Christ.  May our hearing and reading of the exchange between Jesus and Peter draw us closer to our Lord as we confess our sins, receive forgiveness and healing, and help us to live with the mission Christ gave us: to be saints.

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!

Planning and God's Will

 Third Sunday of Easter
    I am a planner.  I like lining my ducks up in a row, and planning for what is ahead.  As an Eagle Scout, I took to heart the Boy Scout motto of “Be Prepared.”  Part of my vocation story is that, at the ripe old age of 13, I wanted to know what I wanted to be as an adult, so I could go to a good college for that profession, which means that I needed to know which college was good for that profession, and to get in to that college I needed to do well in high school, especially in the subjects that would get me admitted to the right college.  After hearing that part of my vocation story, one person commented that I was a Type AA personality (not just type A).
    Planning like that helps me a lot in some ways.  Generally, I’m well-prepared for anything I’m going to do.  I send in RSVPs to parties.  I usually get cheaper airfare for my trips because I buy the tickets far out in advance.  
    But in other ways, it does not help me be a good disciple of Christ.  It is very easy for me to plan things out, but not always to check to see what God’s plan is.  And being open to God’s plan is very important, both in the big decisions in life (like whether to become a priest, get married, or become a consecrated man or woman), and also in the small decisions of life (like what the Lord wants me to accomplish on a particular day).  
    In our first reading, we hear about St. Peter being brought before the Sanhedrin.  They had been ordered to stop proclaiming the Gospel, that Jesus was raised from the dead.  The old Peter, the Peter who did not often work with the Holy Spirit, would have probably found some practical way to appease both the Sanhedrin and also his fellow Apostles.  But the new Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, knew that God wanted him to share the Gospel, and help others to believe in Christ, no matter what the cost.  
    How did Peter know this?  Jesus had called Peter; not just the original call on the Sea of Galilee, when Jesus told Peter to go out into the deep and fish, even though Peter had fished all night and caught nothing.  This time, on the same body of water (the Sea of Galilee was also know as the Sea of Tiberias, or Lake Tiberias), Peter cannot catch anything until Jesus shows up.  And then, having brought in the miraculous catch, Peter gets some alone time with Jesus.  Jesus asks Peter to renew his love for the Lord (to make up for Peter’s threefold denial of the Lord on Good Friday), and then sends Peter to tend the sheep of the Lord’s flock.  Jesus even tells Peter that spreading the Gospel will lead him to have another dress him and lead him where he does not want to go.  Likely, as Peter was led by the Temple guards before the Sanhedrin, he was thinking about how the Lord’s prophecy was being fulfilled, as he was led somewhere he didn’t want to go.  It would ring even more true as he was led by Roman guards to an upside cross at Vatican Hill in Rome.

A depiction of the crucifixion of St. Peter outside Rome

    So how often do you invite God to be a part of your planning?  How often do you ask God what His plans are?  Sometimes God’s plans are made known through others (e.g., the bishop assigning a priest to a particular parish, or a wife sitting down to dinner and saying, “Honey, we’re pregnant).  Other times God can speak directly, especially in the silence of our hearts (which is why it’s so important to plan for silent time with God when we can reasonably do so).  Other times, God doesn’t so much have a message for us, but wants to be consulted before we decide to do anything, rather than just hoping that He’s going to go along with what we choose.  
    And the best place to put our ideas before God is here at Mass.  It may not look like it, but as we come to Mass we are before the throne of God, with the angels joining in our prayer, as well as the saints in countless number.  We give honor and glory to God, who sits on the throne.  Maybe you’re wondering about your job, or about your family size.  Maybe you’re wondering what to have for dinner later this week, or if you’ll even have time to cook dinner this week due to a busy schedule.  Maybe you know of someone who needs prayers and/or maybe some nice conversation, but you’re not sure what to say.  Bring all those things to God, and listen for what He has to say.  He may not answer how or when you want, but God always answers.
    To our first communicants, too, you are getting a new way to be close to God, who desires good things for you.  God loves you so much, and wants to guide you in your life.  And now that Jesus will be entering into you in a new way through Holy Communion, you’ll have a new, special access to God.  I know that we put a lot of emphasis on receiving Jesus, which is good, but it’s also important, in these minutes after you receive Holy Communion, to pray silently.  There are special graces for prayers said after Holy Communion, and both after you receive as you get back to your pew, and immediately after Mass, I encourage you to kneel down and pray in silence, listening carefully for what God wants to say you.  Don’t just run out to get donuts, or run to see your best friend who also came to church.  Take one minute to tell Jesus you love Him, to thank Him for being so close to you, and then be silent and listen for what God wants to tell you.  That’s the best time to hear God say something to you.
    So for all of us, children and adults alike, don’t just make your own plans, and then loop God in as an afterthought, or when things aren’t going the way you planned.  Go to God; listen for His voice and His plans.  And recognize that, whatever God’s plans are, as God says through the Prophet Jeremiah:
 

For I know well the plans I have in mind for you…plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope.  When you call me, and come and pray to me, I will listen to you.  When you look for me, you will find me.  Yes, when you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me.

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?’”

If You're Happy and you Know It, Tell Your Face

Third Sunday of Easter

About two months ago, the priests of the Diocese of Lansing met to, among other things, talk about how to increase vocation to the priesthood.  There were lots of ideas shared, some big, some small, some more helpful, some less helpful.  But the advice of one of our senior priests really stood out: if you’re happy and you know it, tell your face.  That was his pithy way of saying that happy priests lead others to consider the priesthood.

But besides being good advice for priests trying to encourage vocations to the priesthood, it’s good advice for all Christians, especially during this Easter season.  If you’re happy and you know it, tell your face!  We have been given the gift of new life in Christ, the opportunity to live for ever in heaven with God, the Blessed Mother, and the angels and saints.  That’s good news!  Sin has been defeated, and Christ has given His Church a way to forgive sins in His name and with His authority (remember that Jesus gave the apostles that authority in last week’s Gospel account).  That should lead us to be joyful.  

Joy doesn’t mean that everything is going to go right in our lives.  St. Thomas Aquinas describes joy as a passion which is caused by love of being in the presence of that which is loved, or by the goodness of the thing loved that lasts.  And, of course, spiritual joy, the fruit of the Holy Spirit, is caused by being in the presence of God and by the goodness of God that endures forever.  Therefore, especially when dealing with the goodness of God itself and how much he loves us, joy and sorrow cannot be mixed up.  We should, as St. Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians, “Rejoice in the Lord always.”

But, St. Thomas also admits that we do not always participate in the goodness of God, or recognize God’s presence, and that can cause us sorrow, because we don’t see the love of God active in our neighbor, or even active in ourselves.  And we see that sadness in our Gospel today.  St. Peter forgets that Jesus has risen.  He has seen Jesus, but Jesus has gone elsewhere.  And because St. Peter forgets about the abiding presence of the risen Jesus, St. Peter abandons his responsibility of sustaining the disciples in the faith, and decides to go back to his old life of fishing.  

Now, when St. Peter recognizes Jesus on the shore, that joy returns, and so much so that he jumps out of the boat to swim to shore to see Jesus, rather than waiting for the boat to go ashore.  It is then that Jesus asks St. Peter about his love, the threefold profession of love making up for St. Peter’s threefold denial that he even knew Jesus.  And Jesus entrusts to St. Peter the role of feeding the lambs, tending the sheep, and feeding then sheep.  St. Peter is entrusted with taking care of the flock that belongs to the Good Shepherd.  And the joy of loving Christ is meant to keep St. Peter going.

A statue of Jesus at Peter at the
Sea of Galilee

St. Peter had that joy, maybe not always and not exactly as God wanted St. Peter to, but still, St. Peter had the joy of the Resurrection, and we heard about that in the first reading when St. Peter rejoiced “that they had been found worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the name” of Jesus.  Even though they were being persecuted, St. Peter (and the other apostles) had joy because they knew they were in the presence of God and that they were able to suffering for God in imitation of Jesus.

So how about us?  Do our faces show that we have the joy of the Resurrection?  As a priest in seminary once told us, this isn’t the smile of someone who just passed gas and then walked away.  This is the joy that gives us peace through all of life’s circumstances, good and bad.  If we recognize the presence of God in our life, then nothing can take that joy from us.  God’s love is always active in our life and sustains us every day.  Even when there is something sad or even horrendous going on in our life, if we know the love of God, then we can still have the joy that is the fruit of the Holy Spirit.  

The martyrs are the best example of this.  Throughout the centuries there are stories of martyrs who died very painful deaths, but had joy that they were laying down their life in imitation of Jesus.  From the Apostles, to the early Roman martyrs, to the Japanese martyrs in the sixteenth century, to the North American martyrs in the seventeenth century, to saints like Maximilian Kolbe in the twentieth century, they didn’t enjoy being put to death, but they did have joy to suffer for Christ.  And many of their writings testify to that.  So for us, who probably aren’t being covered with tar and lit on fire, having boiling water poured over us to mock baptism, having our fingernails pulled out and our fingers chopped off, being crucified, or being given poison, then hopefully we can recognize the abiding presence of God and live in that joy of Easter.  If you’re happy and you know it, tell your face!

What to Do with the Time that is Given to Us

Solemnity of St. Pius X

This has been, in many ways, a tough year for us at St. Pius X.  But what immediately comes to my mind when I think of our challenges is a scene in “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings” when Frodo and Gandalf are sitting in the dwarf mine of Moria, waiting to see which way they should go.  Frodo says, “I wish none of this had happened.”  Gandalf responds, “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide.  All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

Let me be clear: while I have certainly regretted some of the struggles that we have gone though, as a church and as a diocese, over the past year, I have never regretted becoming your pastor.  And I hope that, even if you have not relished some of the adjustments that have been made since I became your pastor, you do not regret being members of this parish.  But our challenge, as St. Pius X parish, is not the struggles themselves, and the difficult time that our parish and city and diocese are experiencing.  Our challenge is what to do with the time that is given to us.  

This Gospel that we heard is one of my favorites.  The apostles had seen the risen Christ many times, but then He must’ve spent some time away, because they seem to despair again, like in the upper room before they saw Jesus.  So Peter decides to go fishing, and the other apostles go with him.  But, as always in the Gospels, Peter can’t catch anything until Jesus, who mysteriously appears on the shore, tells them to cast their nets to the other side, and they catch 153 large fish.  Peter recognizes Jesus, and with his usual impetuosity, jumps in and swims to shore.  After eating the fish, Jesus takes Peter aside, and asks him the three questions about where St. Peter’s heart is.  

That must have been hard for St. Peter to be asked if he truly loved Jesus.  When someone you love asks you if you really care about him or her, doesn’t that hurt?  And Jesus asks three times, which for Peter had to remind him of the three times he had denied Jesus.  Peter looked back at the past 50 days and didn’t have a lot to show for it.

Right after the last verse, Jesus then prophesies for Peter how he will die, and then Jesus invites Peter to follow Him.  But things don’t always go well for Peter.  He will later be rebuked by St. Paul for not being consistent with welcoming Greeks into Christianity.  And even at the end of his life, as the persecution of Nero is closing in on him, St. Peter, by tradition, will try to flee martyrdom.  But Jesus reveals Himself to Peter walking back to Rome.  St. Peter asks Him, “Domine, quo vadis?” “Lord, where are you going?”  Jesus tells Peter He is going to Rome to be crucified a second time.  Peter then repents of being scared of dying for Jesus, and returns to Rome, to be crucified upside-down.  

St. Pius X himself lived in turbulent times: he only became pope after the clear-and-out favorite was vetoed; during his pontificate a group of theologians tried to undo perennial Church teachings; revolutions against governments in Europe and Asia started to develop, which led to the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, which ballooned into World War I, shortly before St. Pius X died.  How many times must he have wondered why he lived in such times?  But instead of simply bemoaning the bad, he worked to promote the good.

And as we celebrate our parish patron, that is our opportunity as well: to decide what we will do with the time we have been given.  God wanted each of us to live right now.  He wanted you to be a part of this parish, and He wanted me to be your pastor.  And He wanted this because we have what it takes to follow His will and strengthen our parish and school to help it survive and thrive in the future.  Yes, the world may seem very dark right now, and not just our little corner of it, but indeed the whole world seems to be teetering on the edge of darkness.  But God is the sun who can put an end to the darkness of night and usher in the light of day.  

In the Lord of the Rings, Frodo still had difficult times ahead of him: battles to survive, getting lost, getting captured, and even making it to Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring (which, spoiler alert, he cannot even bring himself to do).  Frodo becomes estranged from the group of his friends, and even at one point sends his best friend, Samwise Gamgee, away.  But, after all that (spoiler alert) the One Ring is finally destroyed, and the darkness is defeated.  Frodo regains his friends and no longer has to carry the burden of the One Ring.

It is up to us to decide what we will do with the time we have been given.  Will we follow where God leads us in being faithful to the teachings of Christ and His Church?  Will we take opportunities to talk to others about Jesus, and invite them to start or deepen their relationship with Christ and the Church He founded?  Will we fight against the powers of darkness who seek to divide this parish and keep it focused on itself rather than love of God and love of neighbor?  

Or do we simply want to keep the status quo?  Do we want to give in to our self-centered culture which only pursues its own desires, no matter what Christ and His Church says?  Are we content simply to keep our faith to ourselves and not share it with others?  If we are for these last approaches, for giving up because the battle is hard, then we will contribute to the weakening and perhaps even eventual dying of our parish.  But, if we are willing to be transformed by the grace of Christ and continue to spread the Gospel, then we won’t be a victim of our difficult times, but a victor in Christ.  

Today I recommit myself, through the intercession of Pope St. Pius X, to working as hard as I can to do the things that will help this parish grow by being faithful to who we are as Catholics: followers of Jesus, transformed by the Sacraments, faithful to His Church, that joyfully spread the Gospel.  Will you join me in this fellowship?  Will you do what you can with the time that is given you?

To Restore All Things In Christ

Solemnity of Pope St. Pius X

“For who can fail to see that society is at the present time, more than in any past age, suffering from a terrible and deep-rooted malady, which, developing every day and eating into its inmost being, is dragging it to destruction?”  This was not a quote from a political commercial.  This is a quote from our patron, Pope St. Pius X’s first Enclycical, E supremi, published on 4 October 1903.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.  We might likely say the same thing about our own times, how, more than in any past age, we are suffering from a sickness in our society, which seems to be dragging us down to destruction.  Widespread poverty, the breakdown of family life, terrorism at a global level: all these things seem like a sickness that weighs at our soul; at least, it weighs heavily on my soul!

So what do we do?  What medicine can we provide for this “malady,” this sickness?  I believe our patron, whose solemn feast we celebrate today, gives us a clue.  His papal motto was Instaurare omnia in Christo, or To restore or renew all things in Christ.  The only way we can cure this illness is to renew all things in Christ.  We cannot do it without Him.  If we try, we are certain to fail.  

But how do we renew all things in Christ?  Pope St. Pius X helps us here, too.  Much of Pope St. Pius X’s pontificate was spent promoting the liturgy, the Mass.  In fact, the motto of the Liturgical Institute where I studied was also Instaurare omnia in Christo.  Our participation in Calvary, the very way we were saved, renews us.  The Second Vatican Council called the Eucharist, given to us in the Mass, as the source of the Christian life.  It is the font from which we draw our strength to live as Christians.  If we wish to be renewed, then we have to be connected to God.  And what better way to be connected, than by receiving worthily the Body and Blood of our Lord?  We are like wells of God’s love.  If we are not connected to the spring to feed the well, then we will dry up, and no one’s thirst will be quenched.  But if we are connected, especially through the Mass, to Jesus, the wellspring of salvation, then others will find Christ through us, and they will also be renewed.  Pope St. Pius X understood the importance of receiving strength from the Eucharist, and so allowed children to make their first Holy Communion at age 7 (it had previously been 12).  He is fittingly called the Pope of the Blessed Sacrament.  

How else do we renew all things in Christ?  Our Gospel gives us another clue: we love Jesus.  Now, that may sound easy.  I mean, very few people say that they don’t love Jesus.  But do we see it in their actions?  Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?”, and after Peter says He does, Jesus gives him a mission (“Feed my lambs,” “Tend my sheep,” “Feed my sheep.”).  Love, true love, is always shown in what we do.  Love cannot remain only a feeling or an emotion.  If it’s true love, then we act on it, as St. Peter would do as the first pope, the first predecessor of Pope St. Pius X.

It also means acknowledging that we’re wrong.  Was it a coincidence that St. Peter was asked three times if he loved Jesus?  I don’t think so.  Peter, who had said he didn’t even know Jesus three times, was given a chance to say he was sorry, and make up for his denial.  We have a chance, through the Sacrament of Penance to admit that we’re wrong, and that we need God’s forgiveness, just like St. Peter needed it.  I would love to offer, and to need to offer, more times for this beautiful sacrament!  Not because I want you all to be sinners.  You are already, just like I am!  But because of the need to add more time because we recognize that we are sinners, and in need of God’s mercy.  I try to go to confession every two to four weeks because, as some of you are all too well aware, I sin.  There is nothing wrong in admitting we’re wrong.  In fact, it helps to renew us.  The real danger is when we think we’re fine, because then we are most certainly not.  If you want other times for the Sacrament of Penance, please let me know, and I will be happy to add them.

To renew all things in Christ is not complicated.  You do not have to be pope to do it.  The basic building blocks are regular confession and going to Mass every Sunday and holyday.  For my part, I promise to pray for you, and, to paraphrase St. Paul, to share with you not only the gospel of God, but my very self as well, so dearly beloved have you become to me.  But I cannot renew all things in Christ by myself.  In fact, I can do very little of it.  But if you join with me, then we can transform this world, and Christ, the Divine Physician, can cure it of this “terrible and deep-rooted malady which…is dragging it to destruction.”  Pope St. Pius X, help us, by your intercession, to be renewed by the sacramental life of the Church, and then to renew the world with your love which we receive, especially in the most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist.  

Don't Stay in the Upper Room

Pentecost

In 1217 a man named Domingo did the unthinkable.  It was less than a year earlier that his small group of companions, along with a convent of nuns, had been approved by Pope Honorius III as the newest religious order in the Church.  But, even though he only had 16 mobile members in this new religious order, he sent them out: some to Spain, some in France, and some to Italy.  The other members of his small group of companions objected to this radical move.  They needed more members before they could spread out so much!  But Domingo insisted, stating that seeds that are kept in a container rot; only seeds that are scattered and sown can create new life in the ground.  These sixteen companions, along with the convent of nuns, was the beginning of what is known better today as the Order of Preachers, the Dominicans.  Domingo is the Spanish way of saying Dominic.

Today as we celebrate Pentecost, we go back to the group of disciples, some 170 people, who were crammed into the upper room (I’ve been there; 170 people would have been very tight!!).  Throughout the Easter Season we have heard about the disciples and the apostles.  They were scared, much like the first Dominicans would be some 1200 years later.  We heard about the Lord appearing in their very midst in the upper room, though the doors were locked for fear of the Jews.  They see Jesus, and yet, they are afraid.  They stayed in that upper room for some time, and even after having seen Jesus numerous times, they didn’t know what to do.  St. John records an account of Peter and the apostles deciding to go fishing, sometime after they had seen Jesus twice.  Even after seeing the Risen Jesus twice, they still don’t know what to do.  They are held back by their former way of life.  But then Jesus tells them to cast their nets over on the other side, and they catch 153 fish, one representing each known nation at that time.  John recognizes Jesus, and Peter, always the impetuous one, jumps in and swims to shore to see his Master.  It is then that Jesus asks Peter three times, “Do you love me?”, foretells Peter’s martyrdom, and then tells Peter to follow Him.  

But even after the Ascension, the disciples are in the upper room again.  They are obedient to Jesus, waiting for His promised gift of the Spirit, but they are there in the room.  It is then that the first Christian Pentecost (it was already a Jewish feast) happens, and the Holy Spirit moves the apostles outside of the upper room and leads them to proclaim the Risen Jesus, the importance of Baptism, and the call to a new life through conversion to all they meet.  The Holy Spirit is the catalyst that gets the apostles out of their comfort zone, out of their past, and into their future as evangelists.  The Holy Spirit gives them courage to conquer their fears and trust in Jesus.

On Memorial Day we remember and honor those who were not held back by their fears.  I’m sure that there were some soldiers in our military who were never afraid.  Perhaps this was a special gift; perhaps it was just rashness.  But I would guess that most soldiers, especially as they engaged in battle, had some fear.  That is natural.  It is part of how we usually stay alive.  And yet, for the greater good of God and country, they fought to protect those whom they served, to defend our freedom, and to defeat those who sought to do these United States harm.  They did not let their fears hold them back.  They acted with courage, even when it meant laying down their life.  What a precious gift they gave us, and it is right and just that we remember them.

But we are all called to trust in the power of the Holy Spirit to move us beyond our fears.  We may not necessarily go into battle with earthly forces, but the Holy Spirit wants to give us the gift of courage, to fight the fears in our lives that seek to keep us in a room.  Few have mentioned it to me, but I’m sure there are some fears with working with St. Mary for religious education, if for no other reason than this is new (at least in this iteration); I know that some of you are afraid because of your own poor health, or the poor health of those you love; I know that some of you are afraid because of the loss of a job, or a new job which is going to call for new gifts; some of you are afraid for the future of your children or grandchildren in their life of faith, and in their financial stability.  Allow the Holy Spirit to bring you out of that room of fear and have confidence that the Holy Spirit will take care of you.

Our 9th grade students received the seven-fold gifts of the Holy Spirit in a new and powerful way at their confirmation this past Tuesday.  One of those gifts is courage.  They will need it, because living as a faithful Catholic is becoming more and more difficult, at least in certain teachings that we have about life, marriage, and truth.  But we need courage, too, to proclaim Jesus as Risen and the Church as His Mystical Body.  We need to courage to try new things, maybe a Bible study or a faith sharing small group.  We need courage to be evangelists in an age where it is much easier to hunker down and hope that we can survive this current time of antagonism to the Church.  

Whatever keeps you in the upper room of fear, today God wants to give you a gift of the Holy Spirit to allow you to proclaim, like the apostles, that Jesus is Lord and that we are called to change our lives to conform to His because Jesus shows us how to be truly happy.  Together now, let us pray for that gift of the Spirit to fill us and give us courage to be, like St. Dominic, an evangelist in the way that God calls us.  Come, Holy Spirit…

Do You Love Me?

Third Sunday of Easter

            When I was a freshman at Lansing Catholic in 1998, I had the great opportunity to be cast in our production of “Fiddler on the Roof.”  To this day it remains one of my favorite musicals. The part that I was assigned, I kid you not, was the Rabbi. One of my favorite songs in that musical (and there are so many great and memorable ones) is “Do You Love Me?”

            That is, of course, the very question that Jesus asked St. Peter in today’s Gospel: “Do you love me?”  And Jesus didn’t just ask it once; He asked it three times to make up for the threefold denial that St. Peter made when Jesus was being held by the Pharisees and the Sanhedrin.  Three times St. Peter says, “‘Yes Lord, you know that I love you.’”  And then Jesus explains what love means.

Jesus said to him…“Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.”  He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God.  And when he had said this, he said to him, “Follow me.”

What must have been going through St. Peter’s mind when Jesus said this to him?

            Love, as Jesus explains to St. Peter, means binding yourself to another.  Peter binds himself to Jesus, to follow him, and even to be dressed by another and led where he does not want to go.  This was fulfilled when St. Peter was bound to the cross, upside down, and crucified, dying out of love for Jesus and following Him even through a similar form of death.

            We see how love binds in so many ways: it binds a man to a woman for life in marriage.  Because they love each other, they commit to an exclusive love for each other, a bond so strong that only death can break it.  We see how love binds in the example of parents who easily put thousands of miles on their vehicles driving Johnny and Alice to and from sports, band, plays, and other activities, even when the parent doesn’t feel like driving.

            Love binds the beloved to the lover.  And we, whether single, ordained, consecrated, or married, were all bound to another when we were baptized.  At that moment, God claimed us as one of His own in a bond which is so strong, it even survives death.  At baptism, we became the Lord’s beloved.

            But, even though love binds, that bond can be strong or it can be weak, based upon the response of the beloved to the lover.  The closer we stay with Christ, the stronger that bond is.  The more we wander away from Him, the weaker the bond is, though it is never broken.  If we wish to grow in love with God, then we must follow Him.

           

A painting of the Crucifixion of St. Peter in
the Church of Domine, Quo Vadis
outside of Rome

Each day Jesus renews His love with us.  Each day He asks us to renew our love with Him.  He asks us, “Do you love me? Will you follow me?”  Because love is free, it is never forced, but is an invitation.  Even St. Peter faltered a little.  As the story goes, when St. Peter knew that Nero was coming after him to arrest him and put him to death, St. Peter, at the advice of the Church in Rome, started to get out of Dodge.  And as he was walking on the Appian Way, he saw Jesus walking towards Rome.  This, naturally, startled St. Peter, who asked the Lord, “Domine, quo vadis?  Lord, where are you going?”  Jesus responded, “I am going to be crucified a second time.”  St. Peter than realized that he was not following Jesus, but was doing his own thing, and so returned to Rome and was crucified upside down.  We, too, falter at times, and would rather walk away from Jesus and not follow Him, but would rather do our own thing. 

            But love means being bound to the other, and in our love for God, it means following Him.  Sometimes that means that another leads us where we do not want to go.  Sometimes it means a change of heart and a change of mind so that the rule is not “my will be done,” by “thy will be done.”  It means making Him the top priority in our life, and forming our life around Him, not asking Him to form His life around us.  Sometimes it even means death.  But the beauty of love is that the beloved knows that the lover is worth it.  And in the case of our Divine Lover, God, we also know that His love is stronger than death, and He will never leave us.

            Jesus says to us in the words of the Song of Songs, “Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come!  For see, the winter is past…Arise my beloved, my beautiful one, and come!”  He asks us, “Do you love me?  Will you follow me?  Will you strengthen the bond that was created when I claimed you as my own and saved you from sin and death in the waters of baptism?”  What will our response be to the love of God, a love so strong that He gave up His only Son to death so that we could live?  Do we love Him?