Never Could Have Imagined

Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    For whatever reason, once you reach a certain age, there is a requirement that you tell younger people how passes more quickly the older you get when they say that they can’t believe how fast time is going.  As a youngster and on the receiving end, I never really appreciated how true that statement could be.  After all, time, at best, seemed like a constant, and it seemed like it just dragged on.  But, as I approach my forty-first birthday next week, I appreciate more the reality that time really does go faster the older you get.
    When Moses asked the rhetorical question to the Israelites, “what great nation is there that has gods so close to it as the Lord, our God is to us whenever we call upon him?”, the Chosen People certainly could think of the closeness of God.  Ever since their departure from Egypt, God had accompanied them by a column of cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night.  He had stopped the flow of the Red Sea for them.  He had appeared in trumpet blast and storms on Mount Sinai.  He traveled with them in the Ark of the Covenant.  There was no question that God sojourned with His People.  But they didn’t appreciate how close God would get to us.
    Centuries later, King Solomon built a temple to God to be a resting place for the Ark of the Covenant, which King David had previously moved to the new capital city of Jerusalem.  In the great temple, with all of its gold and silver beyond value, all of the fine wood and decorations of the different courts for different groups of people, leading up to the Holy of Holies, the inner sanctuary where God dwelt, God could be approached.  He had a physical footstool on earth, a place where the people could draw close to Him at any time they wanted.  While the Chosen People had spread out over the Promised Land, they could come to God to give thanks or to ask for blessings.  God no longer seemed itinerant, but had a home fit for the King of Kings.  But still they couldn’t imagine how close God would get to us.

    Centuries later, in a village called Nazareth, the Archangel Gabriel appeared to a young virgin named Mary.  Gabriel asked Mary if she would become the Mother of God, and would carry the Son of God and Son of David in her womb for nine months.  Mary said yes, and suddenly, God’s presence was again itinerant, but this time not in cloud or fire, but in the Incarnation, the union of God and man in the Person of Jesus Christ.  Mary gave birth in Bethlehem, and suddenly people could not only see God from afar in the cloud and smoke; people could not only visit God in a particular place; the shepherds could now gaze loving on God, who looked like a little baby.  The Magi could offer their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the little Christ Child.  And that child would grow, so that people could see the face of God, which before not even Moses could do, as God warned it would kill him.  But not only could you see the face of God, you could touch God, hear His voice, and experience His love in a way previously thought impossible.  But still, they couldn’t imagine how close God would get to us.
    Because while Jesus Christ, God-made-man, walked this earth and helped people experience God in ways unthought of before, while He walked this earth He limited Himself to being in one place, at one time.  The Lord of all creation who created time and space became subject to time and space.  Until He gave us the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist, His Body and Blood, given to us under the appearance of bread and wine, which would prolong His presence with us, not through his limited Body, but through His glorified Body, which now reigns at the right hand of the Father in heaven.  You don’t have to go to the Holy Land to see Jesus.  He comes to you at each Mass, so that you only have to travel a short distance to see Him, not fly over oceans and seas and other continents.  And God enters into us, into our very person, so that He is closer to us than any other person could ever be.  We can say, in a way Moses probably never imagined while he was on earth, “what great nation is there that has gods so close to it as the Lord, our God is to us whenever we call upon him?”!
    What a great gift God gives us!  How could we ever repay God for His generosity, for His proximity to us?  St. James tells us a way that we can repay, however humbly, the great gift God has given us: “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only.”  The best thank you we can say to God is to worship Him, to open ourselves to His grace, and to do our best to conform our lives to the pattern God has given us, especially by loving our neighbors as we love ourselves.  
    I could never have imagined how fast time continues to pass in my own life.  Moses could never have imagined how close God would come to us through the Eucharist.  But it is true.  God has come to dwell with us.  Come, let us worship!

Helping Hearts Rest in the Lord

 Anniversary of the Dedication of St. Matthew Church

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  Today we assemble to celebrate and to mourn, to rejoice and to honor.  We celebrate this beautiful edifice, this temple of God which draws us closer to Him through the intercession of St. Matthew.  We rejoice that this church is a visible reminder that God dwells among us, and that we are called to participate in His Church, as living stones of the heavenly Jerusalem, the temple not made with hands.  At the same time we mourn the passing of Fr. Frederick Harold Taggart, OSA, our beloved former pastor, and Augustinian priest who was professed for 65 years.  We honor his service to his parish, and all the souls whom he helped to grow closer to God.
    But while celebrating and mourning, rejoicing and honoring may not seem to go together well, as the author of Ecclesiastes says, there is a time for everything, and a season for everything under heaven.  And, in a way, celebrating this church is a great way to honor the pastor who helped beautify it, and kept this treasure going in downtown Flint.
    A favorite phrase of St. Augustine for many is from his Confessions: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”  This church is a place of rest, a true rest area off the highway of life.  Architecturally and aesthetically, a church is meant to bring one back to the Temple of Solomon, which itself pointed back to the Garden of Eden.  In Eden, humanity did not labor, but rested in the presence of God.  The dissonance of sin had not yet entered the world, so only harmony resonated between God and Adam and Eve, and between Adam and Eve themselves, and between Adam and Eve and the created world.  As we enter this sacred building, the design of the arches is not meant to confound the eye (making, as it were, the parishioner wonder, ‘How does this stay up?’), but to let it rest in the solidity of the building.  The precious materials used for the sacred liturgy, whether the altar, the ambo (where the Word of God is proclaimed), or the sacred vessels, remind us of the heavenly Jerusalem, which is decorated with all kinds of precious stones and metals.  The stained-glass windows remind us that the saints worship with us, and call us to be the best version of ourselves that we can be.  Though we labor through pain and temptation during our daily lives, inside this building, our hearts are meant to be at rest.
    Fr. Taggart also did his best to let the hearts of all who came here to rest in Christ.  In his 57 years as a priest, only God now knows how many Masses he said for the living and the dead; how many confessions he heard so that hearts weighted down by sin could be relieved through the mercy of God; how many baptisms he celebrated, making children of God out of the children of men; how many weddings he witnessed as two hearts became one; how many families he comforted as they mourned the loss of their own loved ones and friends; how many hearts were poured out in spiritual counseling and guidance.  In the Order of St. Augustine, Fr. Fred had found a place where his heart could rest in the Lord, and his pastoral ministry was a response to that love, and a desire to help others find that same rest in Christ.  He strove to be a just man, and a light in darkness to the upright, as Psalm 112 (111) states.
    [In particular for the Traditional Latin Mass community, Fr. Fred was instrumental in helping to have a fitting place to celebrate the more ancient Roman Rite.  We celebrated the first Sunday Mass here at St. Matthew on 5 July 2015, and haven’t looked back.  While he did not, to my knowledge, celebrate the Extraordinary Form Mass after the newer Mass came long, he did, I believe, use the older forms for baptism when requested, and always sought to celebrate the Mass reverently.  And he certainly provided a church that would serve the needs of this important and necessary part of St. Matthew parish.]
    Did he do this perfectly?  Does this church always grant rest to our hearts and minds?  No.  Like any person, Fr. Fred has his own human weaknesses and failings.  As a pastor, a father of the family, Fr. Fred sometimes had to make decisions that were not popular among all his spiritual children.  One of the stories I heard about Fr. Taggart when I arrived was about his interaction with Ardith Goodroe and the choir here at St. Matthew.  What strikes me as most important about that story is that he and Ardith, after a period of tension, could still be good friends.  And that says something: when a difficult decision needs to be made, and feelings are hurt, that two people can reconcile and renew their friendship with each other.  None of us are perfect, but with grace and understanding we can overcome hurt that we cause each other.

    This church, too, is a work in progress.  We’re still working on stopping leaks in the downspouts, which cause the plaster to break-up and crumble.  There are always repairs and improvements that can be made to any church, like the beautiful floor that was installed some years ago, and the renovation of the bride’s room.  So for us: we’re never done in our relationship with Christ.  There are always ways that we can grow, emotional and spiritual wounds that need to be healed, virtues that need to be strengthened.  Just as we cannot simply let this building sit, so we cannot rest on the laurels of previous periods of growth and holiness in our relationship with Christ.  Christ calls us to deeper and deeper trust in Him, to find new ways that He wants our hearts to rest in Him, since He made us for union with Himself.  
    It is my hope, as your current pastor, and successor of Fr. Taggart, that I can continue help you find your rest in Christ.  Through my ministry, I hope that you can experience the peace and love of God for which He created humanity.  We are not the largest parish in Genesee County, but, as a family, we can help each other rest in God, and encourage others to find that same rest in God through participation in the Sacred Liturgy, service to the poor, and growth in our understanding of God’s never-changing truth.  Like Fr. Fred, I am committed to preserving this temple so that God may be glorified and the intercession of the saints may be sought.  Like Fr. Fred I will sometimes err, but I hope that, with grace and understanding, we can continue to be a family of faith the encourages each other to be the best we can be in Christ.  Every human being is made for God.  Every human’s heart desires to rest in God.  May we, the people of St. Matthew parish, the sons and daughters of our spiritual father, Fr. Fred Taggart, engage in the mission of helping every heart rest in God and find the love and peace that each desires.  Eternal rest grant unto Fr. Taggart, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.  May he rest in peace.  Amen.  May Fr. Fred’s soul and all the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God [the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit] rest in peace.  Amen.