Eden, Heaven, and Sacrifice

Anniversary of the Dedication of St. Matthew Church
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  “I can worship God anywhere, I don’t need to go to church.”  We hear this phrase, sometimes from teens who don’t want to go to Mass, sometimes from adults who feel the same way.  And I think most, if not all, of us have had experiences of God outside the walls of this building, be it a beautiful sunset or a powerful storm, or maybe the calm and peace that come from time spent with a loved one.  

    And while when people enter this building for the first time, most tend to lose their breath for a bit, or look all around and say or whisper, “wow!”, why bother assembling in a place to worship God?  Why do we spend large amounts of money to build and maintain churches like this?  Why does the Catholic Church assign one of the greatest importances to celebrating the day a building was dedicated?
    It all has to do with what churches should do, and there are, I would argue, three primary goals for a church: remind us of Eden, point towards heaven, and celebrate a sacrifice.  The more a church does all three, the more we can truly call it a beautiful church.
    First, churches should point us to Eden.  In the Garden of Eden, God and man walked together as friends.  God was still God, and we were not, but there was a strong and close relationship between humanity and God.  The strain that came from work and the pain that came from childbirth didn’t exist, because they only came to be through sin.  The harmony that existed between God, humanity, and the rest of the created world was the only reality.  Man and woman didn’t lust after each other, even though they appreciated each other.  The break of that trifold relationship of God-man-nature only broke down when Adam and Eve tried to usurp the place of God and committed the original sin, a sin which they passed down to their descendants, even to us in the present day.  
    The ordering of the Church should remind us of the original order and harmony of the Garden of Eden.  We see hints of vegetation in our capitals on the columns, there are ordered other plants in the wallpaper in the sanctuary, like heads of grain and bunches of grapes, there are animals that are staying calm like the pelican image on the front of the high altar and fish in the wallpaper.  There is also a harmony that exists among the created items that make up this building, working together to provide a solid, intelligent structure.  In the church, we also have a harmony with each other and with God, which is why, at the beginning of Mass, we ask pardon from each other for any faults we have committed in the Confiteor.  When a church lacks any sense of the harmony of nature and the harmony that exists between God and humanity, it lacks a certain beauty.  Also, we don’t find this ordering anywhere else, because outside of this building, the effects of sin still run rampant between us and God, each other, and us and nature.  The order that exists here simply doesn’t exist outside in the same way.

St. Pier Giorgio Frassati

    Secondly, a church should point us towards heaven.  Why do we have so many images of the saints?  Why aren’t Catholic Churches just whitewashed walls?  Because heaven has numerous occupants.  It’s never been “me and Jesus” alone.  To be in union with the Lord means that we are also in union with those who are already united to Him in heaven.  That cloud of witnesses, from Abel to the Sts. Pier Giorgio Frassati and Carlo Acutis (to name two of our newest canonized saints), join with us in the in-breaking of heaven on earth.  Churches use precious materials because St. John describes heaven, in the Book of Revelation, as filled with precious materials.  Churches do not only look to the past and the Garden of Eden, but also look to the future and the place we want to end up, in heaven with God.  When we worship God at Mass, all the angels and saints join with us, and we with them, in a liturgy that echoes how heaven is described in the Bible.  As much as Shoeless Joe Jackson can ask Ray Kineslla in the classic movie “Field of Dreams” as he walks into the corn field from the baseball diamond Ray built, “Is this heaven?”, we know that heaven is not a place on earth.  But in the church, we get a glimpse of heaven breaking into earth in a way that happens no where else other than in churches.  
    Lastly, we celebrate a sacrifice.  Churches are not simply lecture halls where one can hear a rousing sermon (though I’m sure you’re moved by the current homily).  Churches are not concert halls where one simply hears music, being Gregorian chant or Christian rock.  Churches are places of sacrifice.  And how do we know this?  From the earliest days of the Church, church buildings contained an altar.  St. Ignatius of Antioch, who died around the year AD 107, who learned the faith from St. John the Apostle and whom St. Peter ordained a bishop, referred to a feature in the Christian celebration with the word thusiasterion, a Greek word that means altar, when talking about the Eucharist that the bishop celebrated.  Tertullian (who died in AD 240) and St. Cyprian (who died in AD 258) also speak about altars when describing the Eucharistic table.  
    But altars only exist for one reason: for sacrifice.  The first Christians understood the Eucharist as a sacrifice, but not as a new sacrifice, but the joining to the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ on the cross.  And Christ allowed us to join in that sacrifice through the ritual He Himself gave us at the Last Supper.  In the church building we fulfill the Lord’s command to do this ritual in memory of Him that unites us mystically to the offering of the Lord on the cross on Calvary.  No where else in nature does God randomly change bread and wine into the Body and Blood of His Beloved Son in an unbloody manner.  Only when we come to a church building do we have this opportunity to join ourselves to the sacrifice that saved us from sin and death and opened heaven for believers.  
    So no; you can’t worship God in the same way anywhere else other than a church building.  And that’s why, 107 years ago, our predecessors put aside large amounts of money to begin the building of this church building.  That’s why, through the decades that followed 1919, priests and people worked to beautify this sacred temple to help it reflect Eden, heaven, and the sacrifice of the Lamb.  May we continue the good work they began in Christ, and may this holy building continue to give us rest from our earthly labors and communion with God and each other as we seek to see the Lord Jesus Christ [who, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen].

Stewardship

Second Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I either recently received a book on stewardship, or I recently rediscovered that I received a book on stewardship.  In any case, I’ve been reading a little each day (it’s a very thin book to begin with), but it struck me as I read the epistle today that a theme in this part of St. Paul’s epistle the Romans deals with stewardship.
    Now, I know that some use stewardship as a code word for giving money.  And, as we just finished our part of the Diocesan Capital Campaign, you might think that talking about stewardship is killing a dead horse.  But this is not such much about giving money, as you have all been very generous with the parish, as a reminder about important points that lead to fruitful stewardship of time, talent, and, yes, treasure.
    Because one of the first points this book makes is that stewardship comes naturally when we consider that everything that we have is a gift from God.  And that view does not come naturally to us because of our fallen reality.  We tend to grasp at most things like they’re ours, like we are responsible for them, and like we don’t want anyone else to have them.  We live with a scarcity mentality, as if when we don’t hold on to things, others may take them, and we might miss out on something we need.  Just think back to the beginning of COVID: we had plenty of toilet paper.  But someone got it in his head that we might run out, and no one wants to rely on leaves, so they started buying up all they could, such that there was a scarcity because people took what they didn’t need.  
    But when we recognize that everything is a gift from God, then we want to give back to God what He desires, which is everything.  Everything may not be much, but the Lord praises the widow, not for the amount of coins she gave (others gave more coins than she), but for the value of what she gave, which was her everything.  

    What does God do when we give Him everything?  Many times He gives it all back, or even makes it better.  Now, I’m not preaching the so-called “prosperity Gospel.”  I’m not preaching that if you just give 10% of your annual salary, God will give you 20% more money.  That’s not the Gospel.  But the Gospel from today does teach us the lesson that God is not outdone in His generosity, to paraphrase St. Paul.  The servants give our Lord water.  And they put them, not in the finest containers, but in the containers with which the guests would wash their hands.  But when the servants take the containers to the chief steward of the feast, he doesn’t taste water, but wine, which came about through the first miracle our Lord worked.  The Father does the same thing with what we offer Him in this Mass.  We offer the Father bread and wine, and not the best bread or wine, either.  It’s not like we’re getting the bread from crust or from Zingermans.  It’s not like the wine is a fine 2020 cab from Napa.  But we offer Him the bread and wine that He desires, and, by the power of the Holy Spirit and through the ministry of the priest, bread and wine offered to God become the Body and Blood of our Savior.  We can’t taste or see any different, but we know that it’s no longer bread and wine, but the Bread of Life and the antidote of immortality (as St. Ignatius of Antioch called the Eucharist).  We offer God what we have, even if it doesn’t seem like much, and God transforms it by His grace into something better.
    And when we receive that something better, and we recognize just how much God has given us, we want to share that gift with others.  And my gift is different than your gift.  But when we all make a return on our gifts, the whole Mystical Body of Christ works well and changes lives.  St. Paul write about that in our epistle, how some were given the gift of prophecy, or administration, or in ministry, or in teaching, or exhortation, or cheerfulness.  St. Paul doesn’t tell those who are good in cheerfulness that they need to start prophesying.  Or those who teach well need to start working on administration.  He asks everyone to use the gifts they have to the best of their ability so that the Gospel can be preached and the Church can be built up.  
    So, for example, I’m pretty bad a brainstorming.  This doesn’t mean that I’ve never had an original idea, but that’s not where I thrive.  I thrive in evaluating ideas and seeing what it would take to execute, or if execution is even a possibility or probability.  But I try to use that build up the Body of Christ.  Now, as a priest, I am called to do certain things, like preach.  I am not Venerable Fulton Sheen, but I offer God my meditation on the Scripture passage or the season, and the work that I put in, and the Holy Spirit does the rest.  Sometimes I think a homily is horrible, and then lots of people tell me how it touched them.  Sometimes I think a homily is great, but then no one says anything.  But no matter what, I am called to give my all to God, trusting that God will perfect my gift, and help it to multiply for the building up of His Church.
    So many of you are committed to this parish and to spreading the Gospel.  You give of your time, talent, and treasure to support the work, not just of St. Matthew, but of the Church in this Diocese, and the Church present throughout the world.  But the Lord reminds us today to continue to work at giving all of who we are to Him.  He never leaves us empty handed, even if we don’t necessarily increase in material wealth, but will always give us back better than received.  As the Blessed Mother encouraged the servants to do at the wedding at Cana, give what you have to Christ, who will never let you want for any good thing, and who, with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Truly a Miracle

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Last Sunday concluded the National Eucharistic Congress, a great gathering from Catholics from all across the United States, some 50,000 people who assembled to witness to their faith in our Eucharistic Lord, and be strengthened by confession, Mass, and talks by world-renown speakers.  How fortuitous and providential it is that, coming off the this great witness of the Church in the United States of our belief that the Eucharist is truly the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord, Jesus Christ, we now, this weekend, begin a few weeks away from our usual Marcan Gospel accounts, and look towards John and His Eucharistic writings in the sixth chapter of his Gospel account.

From the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves

    It’s funny (perhaps funny is not the right word) that a drop in faith in the Eucharist has happened as priests wrongly interpreted this passage of the multiplication of the loaves and fish as a story about the “miracle” of sharing.  Perhaps you have heard it preached that the boy gives what little amount he has to Jesus, but then the people feel bad because they, too, have food, and so there is enough food because Jesus gets everybody to share.  It’s an interesting hypothesis, but one that is totally implausible if you actually read the Gospel passage.  You basically have to start with the premise that miracles don’t happen, and then read that thesis into this Gospel to create the rather unintelligent explanation that what we heard today was the miracle of sharing.
    How can I say this?  Well, Jesus clearly prays over the bread and the fish, which were not enough for everybody, but then John says that they distributed as much as they wanted, enough for 5,000 men, not counting women and children.  Secondly, after this, the response of the crowd is twofold: they think He is the Prophet (with a capital P), and they want to make Him king.
    The term “The Prophet” refers back to Deuteronomy, chapter 18, where Moses says, “A prophet like me will the Lord, your God, raise up for you from among your own kindred; that is the one to whom you shall listen.”  What did Moses do that a prophet like him would do?  Moses asked God for miraculous bread, and God gave them manna, a bread that they did not anticipate, and which they could only collect the amount they needed; any extra would waste away.  So the people recognize that Jesus is giving them miraculous bread (and we’ll hear more about this in the coming weeks), but not just enough for what they needed; there was some left over.  Jesus went beyond what Moses could do.  
    In seeking to make him king, they recognized some greatness in Him.  Sharing, while we might think it is tough at times, and something which people do not do of their own accord, is not something which would make people want to make Jesus a king.  If anything, it simply shows that they have the power.  They wanted to make Jesus king because they realized that if He could multiple bread and fish, He could be the Messiah, the Davidic ruler of Israel.  So they knew this was not mere sharing.  

    So, too, more Catholics, though not at this parish as much, have started to think of the Eucharist as simply a reminder of Jesus’ presence, or a sign of His presence.  They have abandoned the faith of the Apostles, the Church Fathers (those who came immediately after the Apostles), and the unbroken faith throughout the two millennia of the Church, that the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ.  St. Ignatius of Antioch, who died around the year AD 112 talks about the Eucharist truly being the flesh of Christ.  St. Justin Martyr, who died around the year AD 165 said that while it looks like bread and wine, it “is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh.”  Indeed, the first Christians were accused of cannibalism because of these rumors that they were eating the flesh of Jesus.
    There were arguments around the year 1000 about the Eucharist, but it was around how we could understand that we truly received the flesh of Jesus.  In the year 1215, during the Fourth Ecumenical Lateran Council, Pope Innocent decreed that, “[Jesus Christ’s] body and blood are truly contained in the sacrament of the altar under the forms of bread and wine, the bread and wine having been changed in substance [transsubstantiatis], by God’s power, into his body and blood.”  This word, transubstantiation, is adopted by the Church and echoes throughout the rest of the centuries as our understanding of how what looks like bread and wine actually are, in substance, the Body and Blood of Christ.
    This is no less a miracle than the multiplication of the loaves and fish.  If God can make something out of nothing, whether at the beginning of creation or when Jesus creates bread and fish from fives loaves and two fish, He can certainly change bread into the flesh of Jesus and wine into His blood.  We see this miracle take place each time we come to Mass.
    So how do we respond?  Do we, like the people, acknowledge Jesus as someone special because we encounter this miracle?  Do we want to make Him king of our hearts and lives because He gives us His flesh?  There are more and more stories coming out of the National Eucharistic Congress of the way that the encounter with the Eucharistic Lord changes lives, whether of devout Catholics, lukewarm Catholics, Catholics who had suffered sexual abuse at the hands of priests, or even non-Catholics who met people alive in their faith and wanted to know how to have that joy in their life.  But even though we’re not 50,000 strong here at St. Matthew, it’s the same Lord who makes Himself present on the altar that made Himself present in Indianapolis last weekend, and that multiplied loaves and fish some 2,000 years ago.
    Allow this weekly miracle to change your lives, as God wants it to.  We don’t have to wait for a Eucharistic Congress to know that God is real, and He gives Himself for us in the Sacrament of the Altar.  Have faith in the miracle of the multiplication; have faith in the miracle of transubstantiation.  And let that faith open you up to the graces that God wants to send to change your life!

Understanding the Deeper Meaning

 Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

One tradition that exists in law enforcement is challenge coins (it’s also a military tradition).  A challenge coin is just a coin that has some representation of a unit or a department on it.  We don’t quite use challenge coins in law enforcement the same way that the military does (which often has an effect on whether or not you’re paying for your drinks).  But it’s a way to honor a person by sharing a part of the unit’s history.  As an example, about a year ago was given a challenge coin from the State Police Emergency Support (ES) Team (most people would think of it as a SWAT team) that honored the last ES Trooper who died in the line of duty.  This was an amazing gift which I treasure because it honors one of the ES team’s members who gave his all.
    But if you are not aware of that tradition, you may think the challenge coin is simply a nice, little knick-knack, but nothing more.  If you don’t know the background of the challenge coin, you may not give that gift the same importance that someone who knows what’s going on would.
    As we continue our Gospel readings on the Eucharist, we hear that the people do not understand the deeper meaning behind the miracle of the loaves and fish.  The people were amazed at what happened, but their understanding was limited to the physical reality that they sensed, rather than the metaphysical reality that required going beyond the simple five senses.  Jesus even tells them that they are looking for him simply because they liked eating the bread and fish, not because of a deeper faith.  And then Jesus uses that to springboard to teaching about the true bread from heaven, which is not an “it,” but a “who”: Jesus Himself.  
    For followers of Jesus, this problem of not getting the deeper meaning still exists.  It exists in a particular way among those who are not Catholic nor Orthodox.  So many Christians see Communion as simply bread and wine.  Yes, it has been prayed over; yes it is a reminder of Jesus’ presence, but they stop at the level of their physical senses.  But sometimes even Catholics forget, or perhaps were never taught, that the Eucharist is not bread and wine, though it retains those physical properties, but truly Jesus–His Body and Blood.

We, as Catholics, believe that a valid priest of Jesus Christ, who was ordained by the successors of the Apostles (the bishops), and who follows the prayer of the Church, intending to do what the Church intends to do, by the power of the Holy Spirit changes the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ, not just for the time of that prayer, but as long as the bread and wine have those physical properties that are proper to bread and wine.  It looks like bread and tastes like bread, but it is no longer bread.  It is the Body of the Lord.  It looks like wine and tastes like wine, but it is not longer wine.  It is the Blood of the Lord.  
    This wasn’t some new invention of the Middle Ages, either.  St. Paul talks about partaking in the bread and cup as a sharing in the Passion of the Lord, which is what the Eucharist is: our participation in Jesus’ once-for-all sacrifice.  St. Ignatius of Antioch, who died around AD 107, says that the Eucharist is truly the Body of Christ, born of the Virgin Mary, and a descendant of King David.  St. Justin Martyr, writing slightly later, says the same thing.  So, too, St. Ambrose and St. Augustine, in the fourth and fifth centuries (respectively) say that the Eucharist is truly the Body and Blood of Christ.
    It wasn’t until the eleventh century that controversy really arose about the Eucharist, and whether or not it was the Body of Christ.  Quickly, the Church re-iterated that it was, and solemnly proclaimed it in a the Fourth Lateran Ecumenical Council in 1215, using the word that has been codified: transubstantiation.  While this teaching was rejected by the Protestants as they sprung up in the 1500s, the Ecumenical Council of Trent reaffirmed the perennial belief that the Eucharist is Jesus, not just a reminder, not just a symbol, but truly our Lord’s glorified Body and Blood.
    That, of course, affects the way that we treat the Eucharist.  If it really is Jesus, then we are extra-careful with it.  We use precious metal to hold and house the Eucharist.  We do not give it to those who do not believe what we do, which is why Protestants and non-Christians cannot receive the Eucharist–they don’t believe what we do about the Eucharist.  Before we receive, we fast (currently the law is that we fast from all food and drink except water and medicine) for one hour before we receive Holy Communion.  And as we approach the Eucharist, we do so with profound wonder and awe, knowing that we are receiving, on our tongue or in our hands, the very same Lord who was born of the Virgin Mary, and who is now seated at the right hand of the Father.  We dare, only because He commanded us, to receive the King of Kings into ourselves.  We dare because He told us we needed to receive Him to have the spiritual strength to follow Him.  
    As a sign of our respect and reverence our hands should be clean if we receive in our hands.  And the Church invites us to bow before receiving the Eucharist (though some genuflect or kneel down).  The point is that we want to show reverence for the divine encounter we have, an encounter with God that is the closest we can get to God on earth; greater than even the best sunrise or sunset, or the best musical composition, or even the love of a spouse, or whatever other way the we might encounter God.  Nothing even comes close to just how truly awesome the Eucharist is.  St. John Vianney, the priest, said, “What the Angels behold only with awe, the radiant splendor of which they cannot sustain, we make our food, we receive into us, we become with Jesus Christ one same Body, one sole Flesh.”  He also said, “If we truly understood the Mass, we would die of joy.”  
    May we truly recognize that the Eucharist is not bread and wine, but our Savior, who chooses to humble Himself and make Himself vulnerable to us.  May we value and treasure the Eucharist as the greatest gift we can receive here on earth, because it is already a foretaste, a preview of heaven!

Spiritual Sicknesses

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Many people, when hearing what the book of Leviticus said today in our first reading, have a very negative view of the rule that was set out when someone had some sort of skin disease.  Many shudder at the idea of a person being ostracized, sent away from the community, because of an illness which, in most cases, was beyond that person’s control.  But, even today there are some illnesses which cause separation from the community.  The community does not want to become infected, and so people are quarantined, or at least told to stay home.  We do not want sickness to be mingled with health.  We need a doctor to heal the person before they can resume their normal duties and be joined once more to the community.

In our Gospel today, Jesus, the Divine Physician, goes right into the middle of that illness to heal that person of their illness and restore them to the community.  Jesus does not condemn the law separating lepers from the greater community.  In fact, He even upholds the law that the leper was supposed to show himself to the priest and offer what Moses prescribed, fulfilling the law.  Jesus cures the man, thus eliminating the separation that the illness created.  Jesus wants to make us whole, and He goes into the very heart of our illness to do so, so that we can once more worship and be united with the community.

Besides physical illnesses, there are also spiritual illnesses.  These illnesses we call sin.  Now, it’s no longer popular for priests to talk about sin.  It’s no longer popular for people to hear about sin.  But it’s a reality in our lives.  It is an illness, and one that can kill our souls!  What kind of a doctor of souls would I be if I didn’t tell you about the current illnesses that are spreading?!?

Just like all illnesses weren’t leprosy and didn’t separate a person from the community, so not all sins separate us from sanctifying grace, the grace which saves us from eternal death.  In the first letter of St. John, we are told, “All wrongdoing is sin, but there is sin that is not deadly.”  All sin is bad, but not all sin severs our relationship with God.  These may be sins like gossip, ill-thoughts against another, little white lies, etc.  We should not ignore these and pretend they have no effect on our spiritual health, any more than we should ignore small illnesses.  Sometimes, if not treated, they develop into or make us more susceptible to bigger illnesses.  So certainly we need to deal with them.  One way to deal with them is simply by receiving the Eucharist.  When we receive the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Jesus which saves us from sins, Jesus washes away our venial sins (St. Ignatius of Antioch calls the Eucharist the “medicine of immortality) and strengthens us to not commit those sins again.  Another way is by confessing them in the Sacrament of Penance.  When we confess venial sins, even if they have been previously forgiven through reception of the Eucharist, we are strengthened and receive more grace to avoid sin in the future.

But there are also sins which are deadly.  We also use the term mortal.  Mortal sins are the sins we commit that are gravely wrong (they are grave because they cause spiritual death), we know they are wrong, and we freely choose them anyway.  These sins, like murder, missing Mass on purpose, stealing, major lies, pornography, and unchastity with ourselves or another, etc., deprive us of God’s sanctifying grace, and sever our relationship with God.  We are cut off like the leper in the community.  

And because we are cut off from God, we cannot simply receive the Eucharist, the very Body and Blood of Jesus, and have our sins cleansed.  When we sin mortally, we tell God that we want no part of His rule in our life.  To receive the Eucharist in a state of mortal sin is uniting our sinful state, our deliberate rebellion against God, with God Himself in an act of sacrilege.  St. Paul clearly teaches this in chapter six of his first letter to the Corinthians.  He corrects those who are Christians but who are committing sins of immorality with prostitutes because they are joining prostitution to the Mystical Body of Christ.  St. Paul also says in chapter 10: “You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and also the cup of demons.  You cannot partake of the table of the Lord and of the table of demons.”  He also says in the following chapter, “A person should examine himself, and so eat the bread and drink the cup.  For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself.”  For that reason, the Church has held, from the time of the apostles, that no one who is conscience of grave sin is to present himself or herself for the Eucharist.  

But just like in the Gospel, Jesus wants to heal us.  He does not want us to be cut off.  In the Sacrament of Penance, with sorrow for our sins and an amendment to avoid those sins in the future, we cry out like the leper, “‘If you wish, you can make me clean.’”  And through the ministry of the priest and the prayer of absolution, Jesus also says as He did in today’s Gospel, “‘I do will it.  Be made clean.’”  Through the Sacrament of Penance, the ordinary way to have mortal sins forgiven, our rejection of God is healed, and God restores sanctifying grace to us, so that we can live forever.  We are returned not only to spiritual health, like the leper, but are also, like the leper, restored to full worship with the community.  God does not leave us in our sins, but seeks us out to heal us.  But He will not force His healing upon us.  Inspired by His grace, we have to respond and reach out for His help in the Sacrament of Penance.  And God heals us and strengthens us to avoid those sins in the future.  

And we can then proclaim to others how good God is to us!!  We can be like the leper who cannot contain, even though Jesus tells him to, the good news that God has healed us.  What a powerful witness to those who are afflicted with the disease of sin: to know that there’s a medicine which can heal them!  Right now I hear confessions every Saturday from 3:30-4:30 p.m. and by appointment.  What a great blessing it would be if I had to add another hour on a different day of the week to be able to handle all of the people coming to the Lord to be healed, either from small sins or big ones, and restoring those who are mortally ill to full health and the ability to receive the Eucharist.  Don’t doubt the extent of God’s mercy.  Don’t limit the exercise of His healing on your soul.  Celebrate God’s healing in the Sacrament of Penance.  Be made clean!