Yes to One King

Feast of Christ the King

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  As I prepared for this homily, it struck me that last weekend people across our country organized protests against President Trump under the title of No Kings.  It made me wonder what they would think of this feast day, in which we honor Christ, the King of Kings and King of the Universe (as it’s called in the Ordinary Form).  
    In the United States we do seem to have a love-hate relationship with monarchies.  On the one hand, we fought a war so that we didn’t have to be under the British monarchy (though, the monarchy in 1775 already had given some of its power to the elected Parliament).  On the other hand, tabloids would be half as big if they didn’t cover ever-lingering stories about King Charles and the late-Princess Diana, or, more recently, Prince Harry and/or Prince Edwards.  Many love the pomp and circumstance of the monarchy.  I would also hesitate a guess that many here appreciate Pope Leo bringing back some of the pomp and circumstance to the papal monarchy, at least in his clothing choices.  
    So what do we do with this feast?  Again, I would hazard a guess that most, if not all, of us love the idea of Christ the King.  During the 2024 elections, there were chants of “Christ is King” at political rallies, sometimes welcomed by those running, sometimes rejected (which is a bit troubling).  Many of the Mexican martyrs of the early 20th century died with the words ¡Viva Christo Rey! on their lips, as the Cristero Movement utilized the words as a rallying cry.
    But our Gospel reminds us that, all too often, another cry is on our lips other than ¡Viva Christo Rey!, and that is “Crucify Him!”  No, you didn’t miss it in the Gospel we heard, but in the Gospel Christ was before Pilate, with Pilate asking the Lord about His reign, as part of the mob’s request to crucify the Lord of Glory.  

    We, as Americans, demonstrate our love-hate relationship even with the Kingship of Christ.  At times we embrace Christ’s reign, especially if it coincides with what we want and our way of seeing things.  We want, at times, to be on the king’s side because we enjoy his protection and His rule.  And it doesn’t hurt to be on the winning side, as Christ will subject everything to Himself, as St. Paul says in one of his epistles.  
    But when Christ the King reminds us that His kingdom is not of this world, and that not all of our desires and not all of our plans are part of His reign, how do we treat the King?  With questions on either side about election integrity, it’s not uncommon to see or hear the phrase, “Not my president.”  Whenever we sin, we take up the phrase, referencing Christ, “Not my king.”  When we sin, we choose a new ruler.  We choose to subject ourselves to the power of darkness.  We elect a new king, one we think is more to our liking, but who is not merciful and who does not have our best interests at heart.
    We choose a king other than Christ when we lie to get out of something we would rather not do.  We choose a king other than Christ when we detract about another person who has wronged us or who seems like he or she doesn’t belong.  We choose a king other than Christ when we decide that our own will is most important, and that others, be it a spouse or a friend, has to serve our needs rather than seeking to serve their needs first.  
    Our entire life, if we are striving for holiness, means accepting the kingship of Christ, when it comes easily and when it comes not so easily.  God has claimed us for Himself through Holy Baptism, but we have to accept that dominion, while there’s still time to choose.  After we die, or after Christ returns in glory, there is no more time; our choice will have been made permanently.  But while we have life, we can still return to the Kingdom of Christ, even if we have, from time to time, strayed into foreign powers.
    So who is this king?  He is not a king as the world sees it, as the Savior tells Pilate, and His kingdom is not of this world.  He is a king who has servants, the angels, who can deliver Him from any harm at a moment’s notice.  He is a king who rules by truth, not by opinion polls or public desire.  Last week we heard how He is a king who invites people to His wedding banquet, even though many decide not to attend, but a king who will punish those who do not come to the wedding properly attired.  In Matthew, chapter 25, we hear how Christ the King will separate the nations between those who served Him in the least of His brothers and sisters, those who were hungry, thirsty, naked, ill, a stranger, and imprisoned.  We know that He is a king who, though seemingly conquered, actually conquered sin and death by His own crucifixion, and that no one can compete with His power and His reign.  
    Our King desires that we join His kingdom.  He died so that we could be part of His reign.  He is the only Victor, in the end (in terms of being triumphant).  What is our battle cry?  No Kings or ¡Viva Christo Rey¡?  May the words of the good thief, St. Dismas, be on our lips each day, and especially as we leave this world, “‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’”  Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Recognizing Holiness

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Me after my first Extraordinary Form Mass

    There is a tradition in the Extraordinary Form that the people bow as the priest processes up or down the aisle at the beginning or end of Mass.  This gesture is a sign of respect, not so much for the priest as an individual, but for Christ whom the priest makes present in a special way each Mass.
    I remember at the first Extraordinary Form Mass that I celebrated, I invited my friend to be there.  After Mass we spoke about how it went, and he joked with me that he saw all the people bowing, but he didn’t bow because he knows me too well and he doesn’t think I’m worthy of a bow. 
    I know my friend didn’t mean any disrespect, and he certainly is good at keeping me humble and not thinking that they are bowing to me.  But it illustrates the point that Jesus made in the Gospel today: it’s hard to recognize holiness in people we know well.  It was true for Jesus in His own time, and it continues to be true now.  With merely human friends, we know all their failings and their idiosyncrasies.  Of course, Jesus had no failings or idiosyncrasies.  But the cliché phrase can so easily come true: familiarity breeds contempt. 
    But in our minds, we convince ourselves that if we would have been alive at the time of Christ, we would have been one of His closest followers.  We would have walked all over to see His miracles; we would have believed in Him from His miracles and teachings; we would have stayed faithful to Him during His Passion; we would have stood by the cross at His crucifixion.  But the witness of the Gospels show us that, just because people were close to Jesus didn’t mean they stood by Him all the time or recognized His holiness.
    Holiness can draw people in.  Think of St. Theresa of Calcutta (Mother Theresa) or St. Pio of Pietrelcina (Padre Pio).  Though, even in those cases, most people who were drawn in didn’t spend a lot of time with the saints.  They simply had one or a few powerful encounters.  So it’s also true that holiness can put people off.  St. Francis of Assisi drew a number of people towards him to join in his radical way of life.  But if you stripped down in the town square to show your renunciation of all your worldly goods, it’s not an old man in a white cassock who would come to see you, but a doctor in a white coat who might come to commit you to a mental health facility!  Sometimes the holiest of people can be quite annoying to those of us who don’t share in their total love for God.
    Why?  Why can we find it so difficult to love the saints?  Why is it so easy to be hard-hearted, as God warned Ezekiel the people of Israel would be.  As St. John says in the Gospel, people often prefer darkness to light, and so when the light comes, we try however we can to get rid of it.  The light makes the darkness in us uncomfortable, and makes us realize that we are not who we claim to be. 
    And because of this hardness of heart and preference for darkness, God does not work great things in us.  He can’t, because we leave no openness to His work in our lives, but reject it and work against it.  And God respects our free will, however miserable the misuse of our free will makes us.  He wants to do great things in us, to transform us by the power of His love and grace, but He won’t force Himself on us, because love never forces itself on anyone.  Jesus didn’t work great miracles in His home town because of the people’s lack of faith there.  When we don’t open up to God, when we lack faith that God can do something for us, then He won’t work miracles in us. 
    The key to allowing Christ to work great things in us is to admit we need Him.  Even the smallest opening to God’s work in us can be enough for God to break through.  Think of St. Paul: there must have been some openness to God’s work, even as he was persecuting Christians, so that when Christ appeared to him on the road to Damascus, it could change his life and change him from a persecutor of Christians to one of the greatest Christian missionaries the world has ever known. 
    Today, ask God to soften your heart to be open to His work.  Ask him to reveal holy people in your life who can help you grow closer to God.  It could be a friend or a relative.  It could be someone you have written off.  But if we ask God to do great things for us, and make even a small amount of space for His love and grace, there’s no telling how much God can do with us, and make us into the saints He created us to be.  

"Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?"

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.].  In today’s Responsorial Psalm/Tract, we hear the words of Psalm 22 (21), which are also echoed in Matthew and Mark’s account of the Passion.  Today I wanted to reflect on these words, words which sounded forth from the lips of Christ as He hung on the cross for our salvation.

The place of the Crucifixion

    The first words do not sound appropriate for our Lord to say.  How could the consubstantial, co-eternal Son of the Father say, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”  How could God abandon Himself?  Christ, as He hung on the cross, felt the full weight of sin in His human nature.  Sin does not simply reflect a choice we make contrary to what God wills.  Sin is, in some sense, a separation from God.  Even venial sins make a momentary choice where we do not choose God, who is holiness Himself, as we hear from the Books of Isaiah and Revelation: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of Hosts!”  So when we choose that which is contrary to holiness, even if it is but for a second, we choose against God and we alienate ourselves from Him.  Our Lord, though He had no sin Himself, took upon Himself the consequences for sin of all time and space, and so felt, in His human nature, the horrible absence of God, though, of course, He remained God through all of His Passion.
    But to put these words of the psalmist on his lips also demonstrated His total union with us in all things but sin.  He experienced what we experience when we know we have wandered away from God: that lack of true happiness, that darkness, that void in our hearts that come from choosing lesser goods over our ultimate good. 
    And there is a beauty and a strength for us that come from the knowledge that our God loved us so much that He would humble Himself to experience the pain of sin, though He knew not sin Himself.  We can never truly understand the depths of another’s pain, since each person’s pain is unique, just like each person is.  Yet, it does help when someone we know has been through a similar circumstance, and knows what it is to lose as we have lost.  God can give us that comfort because He has been there, and suffered what we suffer when we do not live up to our supernatural purpose. 
    In saying this one line, Christ included the entire psalm, just as we sometimes will include in our conversation entire lyrics with simply one line.  So Christ also includes the later words within this psalm, “I will proclaim your name to my brethren; / in the midst of the assembly I will praise you: / “You who fear the Lord, praise him; / all you descendants of Jacob, give glory to him; / revere him, all you descendants of Israel!”  In the midst of this pain and sense of abandonment, our Lord also directs His suffering as an offering of praise to God among His brothers and sisters.  Indeed, we use the word assembly, but the Hebrew word is qahal, which is translated into Greek as 𝜀𝜅𝜅𝜆𝜂𝜎𝜄𝛼, whence we get the English word “ecclesial,” meaning belonging to the church.  In the midst of the pain and suffering, Christ praises God the Father in the Church, and invites God’s People to worship Him.
    Pain and suffering do not end in themselves.  Even these are gifts that can be offered to God and lead to praise and worship.  How?  As verse 20 states, “But you, O Lord, be not far from me; / O my help, hasten to aid me.”  God, even in the darkest times of our life, even in the darkest times of human history, past, present, or future, does not abandon us, even when it feels like it.  God the Father was ever present with his Son, Jesus Christ; the Father was not far from the Son, nor is He far from us.  And God sends us help to persevere through our suffering.  When we suffer, united to Christ, our suffering becomes redemptive, whether for ourselves or for others.  Pain gives way to healing; death gives way to life.  And isn’t that precisely what this week is all about?
    So, in the midst of our suffering, may this psalm be on our lips, just as it was on our Lord’s.  May we not stop at the first verse, the feeling of abandonment by God, but continue throughout the entire psalm, proclaiming in the midst of the Church God’s goodness and His proximity to us even when things look darkest, and giving glory to God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Incremental Growth

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

(l-r) Anthony and Fr. Anthony

    When you have a goal, sometimes it’s easy to want to be at the end result, rather than being satisfied that you have done today what you need to in order to achieve that goal.  My best friend Anthony is very strong and very much in shape.  And when I started lifting weights over a year ago, I wanted my body to look like his.  I wanted the big biceps and pecs.  Now, if Anthony were to stand up next to me today, you would see that I have not yet achieved that goal.  But, I am bigger than I used to be, with better defined muscles.
    When it comes to our spiritual life, it is easy to fall prey to the same mentality, that we should achieve the goal immediately.  We read the lives of the saints, which helps us because we see in them the goal of living our baptismal promises.  But then we realize that we’re not at their level yet.  This can push us onwards, or it can also lead to a bit of despair, because we can worry that we will never achieve our goal because we haven’t achieved it yet.
    As we hear the call of the first Apostles–Andrew and John, and then Andrew invites Peter–we can see them searching for a more meaningful life, searching for the Messiah and desiring to associate themselves with Him.  To use the weight-lifting example, it’s as if St. John the Baptist says about Jesus, “Look at that guy flex!” and Andrew and John are amazed enough to follow a new leader, and Andrew even invites his own brother to join in.
    But Jesus doesn’t lay out for them everything that will happen, either to Himself or to them.  He doesn’t unfold how life will fully be like following the Messiah and being part of His inner circle.  He doesn’t explain that He’s going to wander around Judea and Galilee preaching and performing miracles.  He doesn’t tell them that He will forgive sins, which is reserved for God, or heal the blind, sick, and lame, and even raise a dead girl to life.  He doesn’t tell them that the Pharisees are not going to be fans, and are going to dog Him and His followers everywhere they go.  He doesn’t tell them that He will walk on water, multiple bread and fish for five thousand, or ride triumphantly into Jerusalem.  He certainly doesn’t tell them that the same crowd that joyously welcomes Him to Jerusalem for the upcoming feast of Passover will call for His crucifixion, which He will undergo, abandoned by most of His disciples. 
    He doesn’t tell them that they will be called Apostles, and will be the new patriarchs of the new Israel.  He doesn’t tell them that they will heal people and exorcise demons in His Name.  He doesn’t tell them that they will, more often than not, lack understanding of His teachings.  He doesn’t tell them that they will be sent out, rather early in the game, to preach His arrival.  He doesn’t tell them that one of the most trusted friends will betray Him for money, while the leader of His trusted friends will even deny knowing Him. 
    What does He say?  “‘Come, and you will see.’”  And Andrew, John, and Peter will stay with Jesus that day.  All that would happen, both to Christ and to the Apostles, is contained in that simple phrase, “Come, and you will see.”  He knew they weren’t ready for everything yet, that they had to slowly prepare for everything, so He didn’t share everything yet.  Just like, when I started lifting weights, I didn’t try to bench 205 lbs. (my current best).  When I started, I think I was lifting 75 lbs. and feeling the burn.  If I would have tried 205 lbs. when I started, I would have failed, and maybe given up.  But I persevered, and now am trying to get up to 225 lbs. 

NOT Fr. Anthony or Anthony

    God doesn’t give us everything all at once, even when we might desire to know it.  Like so many things in nature, the growth happens slowly, organically, methodically.  Yes, sometimes there are spurts of growth, but if the weight of the final goal was placed upon the embryonic beginning, it would crush the start so that the finish would never happen.  I think about it in terms of my own parents’ marriage.  In 1979, when my parents said, “I do,” they had no idea that my dad would convert to Catholicism and be baptized; that he would eventually become a deacon; that they would have three kids; that one kid (me) would fall eight feet, head first, onto a concrete floor (I know some of you are thinking, ‘That explains it!’); that one would be in a horrific car accident that would require weeks of hospitalization and rehab, and leave scars over her arm; that one would have difficulty with her hips at a young age, and then require lots of trips to the ER and breathing treatments for asthma; the time and effort they would put in to caring for their moms in their last days of life; that they wouldn’t both be able to be close to their fathers at the end of life due to COVID.  I’m not sure any couple could handle that at the age of 21 and 19, or any age.  But they have gone through all that and more, taking things one day at a time with Jesus, and seeing where He leads them. 
    Striving for holiness is a day-by-day affair.  We are not saints all at once, but each day choose to say yes to God and no to anything opposed to Him.  If you want to be a saint, then commit yourself, just for each today that you have, to stay with Jesus that today.  After the numerous todays that you spend with Him and cooperate with His grace, you’ll see the difference.  Your end will be determined by the daily decision you make to remain with Jesus.  Where does God want to lead you?  “Come, and you will see.”

Becoming a Holy Family

Feast of the Holy Family

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  As we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family, perhaps some of us think that holiness as a family is always just beyond our reach.  What can be difficult is that God is the ultimate judge of holiness.  He knows the inner working of our hearts, our motivations, how praiseworthy or culpable we truly are for our actions, etc.  While there are objective norms for being holy, our participation in those norms, and how close we come to them, is always an act of faith.  But today I wanted to outline a few important points, first in general and then directed at fathers, mothers, and children.
    First of all, from our Gospel today, we learn that holiness does not mean that we never make mistakes.  We know the story well, that our Blessed Mother and St. Joseph accidentally leave behind our adolescent Lord in Jerusalem, figuring that He’s with other family members.  It’s not until after a day of traveling that they realize they left Him behind in Jerusalem.  We know that Mary never sinned, and the Gospel doesn’t really put blame on St. Joseph either.  So holiness includes doing our best but sometimes not quite getting everything right.  I’m sure that both the Blessed Virgin Mary and St. Joseph felt awful about leaving Christ behind in Jerusalem, and they likely experienced the panic that any parent has when he or she can’t find a child.  But they were not at fault.
    Secondly, holiness can, of itself, seem beyond our grasp, like a goal that we can never reach on this side of heaven.  But holiness is, more often than not, continuing to do our best, even if there are falls from time to time.  An Orthodox monk by the name of Elder Thaddeus put it this way:
 

The Holy Fathers and the Saints always tell us, “It is important to get up immediately after a fall and to keep on walking toward God.”  Even if we fall a hundred times a day, it does not matter; we must get up and go on walking toward God without looking back.  What has happened has happened–it is in the past.  Just keep on going, all the while asking for help from God.

Repentance is a sign that you are seeking holiness.  It is only when we give up, when we stop trying to be as God created us to be, that we fail.  Even if you don’t think you’re holy yet, and I know I’m still working on it, keep striving for holiness.  God is the only true judge of whether or not we are being the saints that He called us to be in Holy Baptism.
    For each member of the family, there are particular attributes that help us know that we are truly trying to be a holy family.  And I want to mention just a few today.  Certainly these admonitions are not exhaustive; there are many more that help us to be saints.  But hopefully these will help you to be a holy family, like the model Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
    Fathers: your witness of living the faith is of the utmost importance.  Recent studies have shown that when the father of the family takes the faith seriously, his children are much more likely to continue practicing their faith after they leave the home.  Your love for your wife (first) and your children, a love which you often demonstrate by sacrifice, pays dividends.  By the way you treat your wife, you show your sons how a man should treat a woman, and you show your daughters what level of respect they can demand from young men when they start to date and seek a husband. 
    The words you use (and don’t use) are important; even more so the actions that prove which words you truly value.  We are in need of masculine witnesses of faith in our times when masculinity in general is under attack.  Do not be a chauvinist, but do not be afraid of being a man, willing to sacrifice for a greater good.  Make sure your family makes it to Mass each Sunday and Holyday, and that confession is a regular part of your family life, too, with your wife and kids able to see you enter the confessional, proving that you, too, have your faults that require God’s forgiveness, even as your seek to imitate the love of God the Father in your family home.  Bless your wife and children.  Entrust them to the care of their guardian angels daily.  In this way, you will be holy fathers of a holy family.
    Mothers: faith and trust so often come easier for you, which is why so many women are active in the life of faith and of the parish.  You help your husbands to continue the process of changing from a boy to a man.  A boy thinks only of himself; a man thinks of the other; a husband has been trained to value you and your children more than himself.  Your husband wants to do what is best, and you can help him see things, not only from his perspective, but also from yours.  You help him to value and support what is tender in him, especially when it comes for caring for you and your children.
    Your connection with your children is always different than your husbands, since you bore each child for nine months before their father even got a chance to connect with them.  They often look to you first for guidance, and especially for that maternal love which is gentle when comforting a husband who has the “man flu” or a child who is sick or hurt, but which love is ferocious when defending a child under attack from the outside.  Like Mary, your heart is often pierced with many sorrows, but you demonstrate how to suffer them patiently, with trust that God will make all things right in the end. 
    Your witness to the faith is also so important, and imitates the witness of the Blessed Mother who was attentive to God’s will, and pondered the working of God in her heart.  You help your husband and your children learn quiet meditation and how to listen for the voice of God in the silence.  We need holy women in today’s society, which do not seek to be the same as men, but which seek to compliment authentic masculinity with the feminine genius.  Pray for your husband and children daily.  Entrust them to the care of their guardian angels daily.  In this way, you will be holy mothers of a holy family.
    Children: you, more than your father and mother, are constantly in a state of becoming.  Your life as a child always develops, from a small life in the womb, to a baby, to a toddler, to a child, to an adolescent, to a teenager, to an adult.  You are constantly bumping into rules and limits as you discover who God made you to be.  There are so many influences in your life: first family, then friends, then a boyfriend or girlfriend.  Amid all these changes in your lives, seek God first.  Seek His guidance first.  Your parents will be good, but not perfect, examples of what God wills for you.  Learn to emulate what they do well; learn to avoid what you observe of their struggles.  Both are helpful for your growth in holiness.
    Be patient with your parents.  Just as you don’t know how to become the person God wants you to be perfectly, so they don’t know perfectly how to raise you to be that person.  You didn’t come with an instruction manual.  You will make mistakes, and so will they.  But be respectful of them and, until you’re an adult, obedient to them.  Look to them to understand when love needs to be tough, and when love needs to be gentle.  Pray for them each day of your lives, as you are not always easy to raise.  Commend your parents to St. Joseph and the Blessed Virgin Mary each day.  In this way, you will be holy children of a holy family.
    You can each be a holy family.  I can be a holy family.  It does take discipline and sacrifice.  Holy families always seek God’s will, and do their best to follow it when known.  Persevere in trying each day to be holy, as all you have is each day.  If you do your best to cooperate with God’s will, He will complete the good work He has begun in you, through Christ Jesus the Lord, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.

No Participation Trophies for Heaven

Solemnity of All Saints
    There are those who, when looking at a difficult task, think, ‘That’s so easy, anyone can do it!’  And there are those who, when looking at a difficult task, think, ‘There’s no way I’m going to be able to do this, and I don’t see how anyone could!’  I probably tend towards the latter.  I remember when I was training to run the CRIM in 2019: I had previously thought that there was no way that I was going to be able to run 10 miles; and when I was training, running circles around this parking lot, I still wasn’t sure if I could do it.  But, sure enough, on a relatively cool August day in 2019, urged on by Tommy Rinoldo, one of our seventh grade students here at the school who decided to run, I put one foot in front of the other with my iTunes exercise mix playing in my ears, and I completed the race, even finishing faster than I thought I could.
    Holiness, sanctity, being a saint, or, as the Powers students learned this year, hagiasmos, is often viewed in one of two ways.  We may think: everybody’s in heaven!  You’d have to be Hitler to go to Hell, so very few people have anything to worry about; it’s a shoe-in!  Or we may think: I’m not like St. So-and-so, so I can never get to heaven.  Probably the more popular approach right now is thinking that everybody goes to heaven, as long as they’re not Hitler.
    Honestly, I think that approach, in its own way, cheapens heaven.  If basically everybody goes to heaven unless you commit genocide, it makes heaven not seem like such a big deal.  It’s the participation trophy ideal making its way into our afterlife.  Participation trophies are nice, and I use that word “nice” on purpose, because you are commended for trying, and sometimes trying does take a lot.  But winning is better, and losing is worse.  No matter how you dress it up or try to ignore it, that’s a fact.  If you doubt it, ask the Wolverines how they feel about losing to the Spartans this weekend.  And the Wolverines wouldn’t want they’re own Paul Bunyan trophy simply for playing the game. 
    But, I would also caution us against the view that making it to heaven is like the odds of a high school athlete eventually getting signed to an NFL team.  One study puts that number at 0.08 percent.  That’s .0008 people out of every hundred people, or 8 out of every hundred thousand people.  If my dream were to play in the NFL, that stat would kill my dream. 
    Heaven is difficult to enter.  Jesus says that we get there by a narrow road, not a wide one.  Or, to put it in a cheeky manner, the fact that there’s a stairway to heaven but a highway to hell should tell us something about the number of people expected in either direction.  Heaven is not a default that we slide into by not doing anything horrendously wrong.  But it’s not only for some elite group of people.  Heaven is what God wants for everyone, and God is constantly working to help us get there.  It’s possible for each and every person here, if we cooperate with God’s grace.
    And to prove it, I want to focus on two saintly people.  Both of these people are blessed, that is, one stop short of being a canonized saint.  But it’s a safe bet they’re in heaven, even if they don’t yet have the miracle for the official designation.
  

Bl. Carlo Acutis

The first is Carlo Acutis.  He was beatified this past 10 October, after dying at the age of 15 in 2006 from leukemia.  He liked joking around, and making people laugh.  He loved playing soccer and video games.  His will-power was not so great when it came to Nutella or gelato.  He didn’t give in to those desires all the time; he knew he had to control himself, but he didn’t pretend that he couldn’t like soccer or video games.  His was a simple path of holiness.  He bought a sleeping bag for a poor person he met.  Even though he lived a comfortable life, he did his best to make less work for the people who cleaned his house.  He created a website that tracked Eucharistic miracles around the world.  And in 2006, when diagnosed with leukemia, he was noted to say: “I offer to the Lord the sufferings that I will have to undergo for the Pope and for the Church, so as not to have to be in Purgatory and be able to go directly to heaven.”  He knew responding to God’s grace could be tough, but he was in it to win it.  And now he’s one miracle away from being venerated around the world as a canonized saint. 
    The second was just beatified yesterday, and he is Fr. Michael J. McGivney.  He is the founder of the Knights of Columbus, a fraternal organization that Fr. McGivney founded to assist immigrants and their families with insurance policies in case a member of their family died.  He was born in 1852, the eldest of 13 children, six of whom died in infancy or at a young age.  As a man who had to work at the age of 13 to help support his family, he knew how difficult life could be.  And that life only became more difficult if one of the working family members died, which Fr. McGivney’s own father did in 1873 when Michael was away at seminary.  Seminary was put on hold for a time while Michael earned enough to support his family.  The Knights started small, in his parish in New Haven, Connecticut.  But it is now the world’s largest Catholic fraternal organization.  In 2019, the Knights donated $187 million and 77 million hours of charitable work.  They assist in defending life, especially the infant in the womb, but have also done great work in Iraq to help families who have lost everything through war and poverty.  They are great promoters of the parish, and also raise money each year to assist the mentally handicapped.  Fr. McGivney probably never imagined the scope his work would have, but he did what he could, for whom he could, when he could.

Bl. Michael J. McGivney

    And that’s our ticket to going to heaven.  It is tough; I’m not going to lie.  God’s grace often seems less attractive, especially in youth, and the highway to hell sounds like a ride with more fun.  But if we do all we can, by God’s grace, each day, taking little steps, not worrying about the distance, then we can get there.  It’s not impossible. 
    Today we celebrate all saints, all those who are in heaven.  If we haven’t before, let’s commit ourselves to be saints now, to run the race that is before us, disciplining our bodies, minds, and souls to win the prize of eternal life.  It’s not impossible, but it’s not possible without God’s grace and our effort.  Heaven doesn’t hand out participation trophies, so let’s do whatever we can to be champions in our life of Christ!

What God Said at Your Baptism

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

What happened on the day of your baptism?  For those of you who were baptized as babies, you may think it’s an impossible question to answer, as you were too young to remember.  Maybe some of you who were baptized as adults remember.  Even if you don’t remember, you can at least get the gist of things from the baptisms you’ve seen celebrated here or elsewhere: your parents asked to have you baptized, they professed their faith, and water was poured upon your heads or you were immersed in water, and then you were given the Sacred Chrism anointing, the white garment, and the baptismal candle.  But there’s something else that happened, something very big: when you were baptized, God the Father said, “‘You are my beloved Son; in you I am well pleased.’”

Now, if you’re a female, you might think this is a bit odd.  Did God not know which sex you are?  Of course He did!  But, when you were baptized, the very life of Jesus was given to you, so that, when the Father looks upon you, yes, He sees you, but He also sees the image of His Beloved Son, Jesus, in whom He is well pleased.  When you were baptized, you were made to be like Jesus.

Now, this isn’t like a costume that you put on.  It’s more like painting a portrait.  You, as a human person, are the canvas, and the artist cooperating with God.  You are the one who receives the image and craft the image that you display.  It’s part of who you are, not an added on extra.  When you were baptized, God traced the pattern of His Son in pencil, hoping that, with His help, you will color it in within the lines.  

Baptism is not a ritual we’ve come up with to celebrate new human life; it is not a ceremony to pass on a cultural identity.  Baptism is a remaking of ourselves, at the very core of our being, by God, so that we can live Jesus’ life.  Not that we ape Jesus; otherwise we’d all go to Israel and Palestine , wear sandals, and dress in tunics.  But we receive strength to live as Jesus did: in total obedience to the Father.  That, of course, is a tall order.  But God Himself makes it possible, and gives us assistance along the way.

Baptism is also not something that we did long ago that has no bearing on our life.  It is a life-long commitment to follow Jesus.  As infants, we don’t have a choice: our parents make the loving choice to have us baptized, because they want God to assist that child in living like Jesus.  Sometimes people will say, “Well, I never got to choose to be baptized; my parents forced it on me.”  Yes, it was forced upon many Catholics as infants.  So was food, clean diapers, love, and all that other “horrible” stuff.  Sometimes parents making choices for us as babies isn’t all bad.  True, as we grow older, we have to also claim it for ourselves and live it out, but we’re set on the right path when our parents have us baptized as infants.

The call that all of us receive in baptism, the outline that is given to us by God, is the call to be a saint.  When the life of Jesus is given to us in Baptism, we are set apart to be a holy man or woman of God.  We can do so as a husband or wife, priest or consecrated person, child or adult, CEO or McDonald’s worker.  No matter what our vocation, no matter what our job, it is possible for us to be saints (and I don’t mean that we all need to go to Siena Heights).  In every circumstance of life, if we are obedient to God the Father’s will, then we will be saints.  Maybe we won’t be canonized, but it will not go unnoticed by God, and His is the only measurement that truly counts.  

Today, celebrate your baptism.  Celebrate that you were called when you were baptized to be a holy man or woman of God.  Celebrate that God the Father looked upon you in love and said, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”  May our lives reflect that life of Jesus in all that we do and in all that we say.