Eucharistic Revival

 Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  The US Bishops have launched a Eucharistic Revival in our country, culminating in a Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis in July 2024, the the first Eucharistic Congress in the US in some 40 years.  Reading any of the stats on how many Catholics actually believe what the Church teaches about the Eucharist can be rather depressing, and demonstrates the need to reinvigorate the faith of Catholics across the US in our Eucharistic Lord.

Famous mosaic of the Miracle of Loaves from the Holy Land

    Our Gospel passage today is a perfect one to draw us in to the Eucharist, as it was one of the multiplication of loaves miracles of our Lord.  How could we not think of the Eucharist when we hear how our Savior gave thanks, broke the bread, and gave it to His disciples, so that they could give it to the people?  That action still continues today, as we give Christ what we have, both our interior offerings of what has happened since the last time we came to Mass, but also bread and wine, and He, through the ministry of His priest, gives thanks, breaks, and returns that gift to the people so that they do not die of spiritual hunger.  No longer is it simply bread, but it is the Bread of Heaven, the Bread of Angels, the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord.  In Latin we ask God in the Our Father, “Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie”; “Give us this day our daily bread.”  But in the Greek, the phrase is not Panem…quotidianum, daily bread, but 𝜏𝜊𝜈 𝛼𝜌𝜏𝜊𝜈…𝜏𝜊𝜈 𝜀𝜋𝜄𝜊𝜐𝜎𝜄𝜊𝜈, super-substantial bread.  He gives us this “super-substantial bread” in the Eucharist, which not only feeds our body, but especially feeds our soul.
    This Panis Angelicus, this Angelic Bread, forgives us our venial sins, and unites us to the Lord.  That’s why we also refer to it as Holy Communion, Holy Union with Christ.  And if we are united to Christ the Light, then those small bits of darkness that we invited into our lives through venial sins are eliminated by the light.  But, if we have invited into our lives major areas of darkness, mortal sins, then we first need to go to confession, so that we are not joining our grave infidelity and evil to the fidelity and holiness of Christ.  That is why any person, from the President of the United States, to an individual in Timbuktu, should not present him or herself for Holy Communion in the state of mortal sin, nor should that person be offered Holy Communion if they publicly reject communion with Christ and His Church.  Still, if we only have venial sins, we should approach this Salutaris Hostia, this Saving Host or Victim, so that we can be more closely united to Christ.
    The Eucharist also gives us strength to live as disciples.  The people in the Gospel were fatigued because they had been listening to our Lord preach for three days (and you thought my homilies were long!).  They have received some strength from the Word of God, delivered by the Incarnate Word of God, but they are in need of more if they are not to faint on the way back home.  The Eucharist gives us this strength.  It is not enough that we be strengthened by the hearing and reading of the Word of God (though that is important).  God wants more for us.  He knows that living according to His Word can be difficult and taxing, because living according to His Word means denying our fallen human nature and taking up our daily crosses to follow Him.  And so He feeds us with Himself so that we can live the life to which God calls us.  That is also why the pelican is an ancient symbol for Christ: it was thought that the pelican, when there was not enough food, would pierce its breast and feed its young with its own blood.  So Christ does for us: He allows Himself to be pierced for our offenses, and then feeds us with His own Body and Blood in the Eucharist.  
    In many parts of the world in the past, and in some parts of the world today, people only receive Holy Communion once per year, not feeling worthy enough to receive.  St. John Vianney and Pope St. Pius X rightly advocated for frequent Communion (as long as one is not in a state of mortal sin) because he knew that we are more likely to be conquered by the devil when we are weak and malnourished, but we are more likely to be victorious in Christ when He dwells within us.  Frequent Communions has been a great gift to the Church over the past centuries, to strengthen us to live our life as disciples.
    Lastly, our Lord sent the people away after they had eaten.  Even in this small pericope, we see the heart of the Mass: the people hear the Word of God, they eat the bread that the Lord provides miraculously, and then they are sent.  So in our Mass, we have the proclamation of the Word of God in the Mass of the Catechumens, the consecration of the Eucharist and the miracle of transubstantiation in the Mass of the Faithful, and then the priest says, “Ite, Missa Est”, “Go, She [the Church] has been sent.”  The reception of the Eucharist is meant to change us, to make us more like Christ, in our life that we live outside these walls.  It is supposed to make us more kind, more forgiving, more loving, just as Christ is kind, forgiving, and loving towards us.  The Eucharist is meant to help us sacrifice our own wills for the good of our spouse and/or family, just as Christ sacrificed His life for His Spouse, the Church.  The Eucharist is not something that we receive as a prize for coming to Mass.  It is food that sustains us to go out and proclaim the good news of the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God by word and deed.  
    We need a revival of belief in and reverence for the Eucharist.  We need to better understand the great gift that the Eucharist is for us.  And we need to better utilize the graces that we can receive through worthy reception of the Body and Blood of Christ, so that the City of Man can better resemble the City of God, to use an expression of St. Augustine.  Let’s commit ourselves today to valuing this most precious gift Christ left for His Church, and commit ourselves to allowing the graces of the Eucharist to flow through us and empower us to bring Christ to those we meet, so that others may experience through us our Triune God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Stopping the Anger and Violence

 Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  How providential is it that, a week after another horrible shooting, this time in the Chicago suburb of Highland Park, our Gospel wants us to focus on anger.
    Our Lord begins with the commonly-known prescription that we are not to kill.  It is important to note that, while in English we say kill, the meaning behind the original word is closer to “commit homicide,” or kill and innocent person.  We might also use the word murder.  But Christ says that the prohibition against murder is not sufficient for being in right relationship with God.  Indeed, I imagine all of us here can say, without equivocation, that we have not murdered anyone.  But beyond murder, and really, leading to it, is anger, hatred, and de-humanizing the other.  
    Again, the word anger, like kill, needs a little unpacking.  Anger, St. Thomas Aquinas says, is the reaction to a perceived injustice.  When we talk about the emotion of anger, we have very little control over that feeling.  Whenever we feel that someone acts unjustly toward us, that emotion appears.  That, in itself, does not merit blame.  But when we take that emotion and use it to attack, demean, or belittle the other, that is when anger can be thought of as a sin.  So, as one calls another a name, or puts another down, whether in thought, word, or deed, we start to walk down the path to murder, to killing the innocent.  
    We may think of putting others down as a far cry from murder (and it certainly is), but demeaning another is the first step on the path that leads to the destination of murder, if those actions of anger are not quenched.  Indeed, in the Catechism of the Catholic Church promulgated by Pope St. John Paul II, the fifth commandment not only includes treatment of intentional homicide, abortion, euthanasia, and suicide, but also treats respect for others (and the sin of scandal), respect for bodily integrity, and working towards peace.  Gossip, in its own way, is also connected to this, as a way that we speak ill of others, killing, as it were, their good name.
    But how do we stop what are becoming regular acts of violence, often mass violence, in our society?  How do we work to thwart other people not only demeaning others, saying cruel and harmful things about others, but even the taking of innocent life?
    Like so many things, it will start in small ways, especially in the family.  The change from a culture of death to a culture of life will not often gain wide notice in the press.  Like the mustard seed that starts as the smallest of seeds but becomes a large bush, the transition from death to life will fly under the radar until it breaks forth in a way that cannot be ignored.
    Starting in the family, then, is the respect for human life.  Two grave offenses against human life have run rampant in our country for decades, and are even widely promoted by some.  Those two offenses are abortion and pornography.  Is it any surprise that there is a disregard for some lives by members of a society that often trumpets the killing of an innocent and defenseless baby in the womb?  Is it any wonder that human life can be snuffed out so easily by some when another human being is used merely as an object of pleasure to satisfy personal lust?  
    Society cannot fix these problems, the recent Supreme Court ruling that abortion is not a constitutionally protected action notwithstanding.  While governmental action can help, at the end of the day respect for each human life begins, is sustained, and finds its greatest success in family life.  The family knows best how to show respect for life, even from a young age.  
    I think of a family I know rather well, and one of the adult children recently had a baby.  The toddler sees the baby, and often wants to hold that baby, like the adults do.  The adults, for their part, allow the toddler to hold the child (while supervised and supporting the baby’s head and neck), and in doing so are teaching the sacredness of human life in a way a toddler can understand.  As toddlers grow, they can become a bit more aggressive, especially with siblings, when they don’t get their way.  Teaching children that they can’t simply hit or kick a sibling (let alone an adult) when that other person gets in the way is teaching the sacredness of life.  
    As children grow into teens who have more freedom and make more decisions on their own, even as they face more temptations, the lessons become even more important: not to tease others because they are awkward (as every teen is at some point); not to drive in a way that puts others at risk, especially under the influence or even simply with a phone; not treating another person, whether a classmate or as communicated through social media or the internet, as a way to satisfy the desire for sexual union.  All those ways and more promote the dignity and sanctity of life.  

Fr. Anthony as an 8th grade graduate (left)

    I remember when I was a teen, and made a transition from one Catholic school to another.  Despite the stud you see before you today, I was very weak and awkward as a teen.  I was a bit of a nerd, and didn’t have great social skills.  I remember being asked by one of the boys in my class if there were any girls that I thought were cute.  Not knowing that this guy was just out to make fun of me, I gave him an answer of a girl I thought was quite breath-taking, only to find out that the girl I named was his girlfriend.  He teased me quite often about it.  But I had a home where I could escape teasing and could know acceptance and love, which helped me navigate through the tumultuous waters of teenage social interactions.  Many teens now, with Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, don’t have a refuge where they can regroup and have their dignity reaffirmed.
    For us adults, we can work on watching how we talk about others, what we say to others, and how we communicate when we don’t get in our own way.  It seems like many more adults are living like toddlers: when I don’t get my way, I yell or destroy stuff, whether it’s at a customer service representative for a company, or in riots when a government decision isn’t what I wanted it to be.  
    If we want to end these mass shootings, there may be political action that could help.  I’m not a political science expert, so I’m not going to weigh in on what can be done in this forum.  But I do have knowledge about the human person, as revealed to us through Jesus Christ, and how the practice of religion helps society.  And so I can say, without hesitation, that if we want, not only to stop the symptoms, but stop the disease of the lack of respect for human life, it will start in our homes, in our families.  Have dinner together as a family, without phones.  Show love for your spouse and for your children in concrete ways.  Monitor video game, internet, and phone usage.  Support each other in the family.   The perpetrators in these mass shootings often do not have a strong family life, do not have a support system to reaffirm their dignity when others do put them down, and often turn to violent video games as the first place they vent their anger.  I’m not here to blame this or that factor, but only to say that we can do better, and it starts in the family.  
    Christ teaches us today that murder does not begin at that drastic action.  There are many smaller actions of anger that precede the more notorious tragedies.  One tried and true way to stop these mass shootings is to teach the dignity of every human being, from natural birth to natural death, which happens best when a family communicates by what they do and by what they say, the love of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Follow the Head

 Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    When I was in middle school and playing soccer, I often played defense.  While it was just a recreation league in the fall and spring, by the time we were in middle school, some of the opposing forwards (the offense) were getting much better at dribbling the ball, and using fancy moves to get past us.  One of my coaches, after seeing us struggle with this, said, “Always watch their hips.  They can’t go anywhere without their hips.  Whatever way their hips are pointing, that’s the way they’re going to eventually go.”  
    The same could be said about the head: we can’t go anywhere without it.  In fact, while you can lose certain parts of your body as long as you have your head, even if you had the entire rest of your body from the neck down, if you didn’t have your head, you’d be dead.  
    St. Paul in our second reading refers to Christ as “the head of the body, the church.”  This is more than simply a metaphor; it’s a reality.  The Church is the Mystical Body of Christ, with Jesus as the head, the one who rules and coordinates the other members.  When we celebrate the Ascension, we say that we, in a mystical way, are already in heaven if we are connected to Christ.  That would not be the case if we were the Body of Christ only metaphorically.  
    That is why remaining with the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ, is so important.  That is why we need to stay connected to what the head tells us.  Otherwise, we risk getting separated, and then dying, as any body part does when not connected to the rest of the body.
    In a general sense, staying connected to Christ means staying connected to His Church.  Many people feel that it’s not a big deal to leave the Catholic Church for some other ecclesial communion (the phrase we use for other denominations, like Lutherans or Methodists or Evangelicals).  But if we leave the Church, then we’re leaving the Mystical Body of Christ, and perhaps separating ourselves from that living Body which is the Church (I say perhaps because God is the only judge, and the only one who knows with surety if we are connected to Christ).  But we know for sure that if we stay connected to the Church, then we are staying connected to the Mystical Body of Christ, the Body which is alive and which is in heaven.
    In a more particular sense, we stay connected to Christ when we follow His teachings, and we disconnect ourselves when we do not follow His teachings.  Again, many Catholics consider it no big deal when they disagree with teachings of the Church that need to be believed, or disagree with the moral teachings of the Church which need to guide the way a Catholic lives.  But we can’t go anywhere without our head, and so if we are believing something different than what our Head has given us, or living differently than how our Head has instructed us, we may find ourselves cut off from Him and, therefore, cut off from eternal life.
    We saw this recently with the Supreme Court ruling that abortion is not a constitutionally protected action.  I have numerous Catholic friends who said that every person should be able to have an abortion if she wants.  This is not what Christ has revealed to us (the Church has always held that abortion, the direct and intentional killing of an innocent human child before birth, is gravely contrary to what Christ taught us).  And if a Catholic worked to promote abortion, he or she would be starting to cut him or herself away from the Mystical Body of Christ.  That is why procuring or assisting at an abortion carries the penalty of excommunication: a person who does so loses communion, or union with, the rest of the Church.
    The same can be said for those Catholics who promote so-called homosexual marriage, or any sexual act outside of marriage, whether homo- or heterosexual.  Christ has revealed to us, through the Sacred Scriptures and through the Church’s unbroken teaching, that marriage is only between a man and a woman, and that sexual acts only should take place within marriage.  Any Catholic who acts or promotes policies otherwise is tearing him or herself away from the Body of Christ.  
    The same is true, as we hear from our Gospel, for those who willingly abandon the poor when they are able to help.  In the Gospel, Christ teaches us that we have a responsibility for our neighbor, as part of our obligation to love God and love our neighbor.  When we can help and we don’t, when we purposefully ignore assisting someone in a way that we are able, we start tearing ourselves away from the Body of Christ.  Does this mean that we need to give everyone asking for money a handout?  Or that we let every homeless person live with us?  No.  But it means we do what we can, whether individually, or through a larger organization like the St. Luke NEW Life Center or Catholic Charities, or through supporting a social safety net by the government for those who legitimately cannot work.  
    As I said earlier, no one on earth, be he a layman, deacon, priest, bishop, or even the Pope, will judge a person at the end of his or her life.  God is the only judge.  And yet, God has revealed that certain beliefs and decisions are consistent with following Him, and certain beliefs and decisions are inconsistent with following Him.  Stay connected to Christ through His Mystical Body.  Stay with the Church, not only through baptism, but through full acceptance of what the Church teaches on faith and morals.  Follow the Head, Jesus Christ.

Identifying with St. Peter

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  This Gospel passage that we heard today is one of my favorites.  I have always enjoyed hearing the stories about St. Peter from the Gospel, probably because I find myself like St. Peter at so many parts of my life: cynical, questioning, a leader, a spokesman, chastised, moments of greatness, moments of great weakness, redemption, and more.  In today’s Gospel we have a number of those moments.

    At the beginning we see our Lord simply commandeer, as it were, St. Peter’s boat.  Christ gets in, and Peter takes him to the water so that Christ can preach to the crowds.  In reflecting, this is the movement of grace in our own lives.  There are moments when we are open to God’s grace of which we’re not even aware.  But there is an openness, because the grace of God does not go where it’s not welcomed.  Still, it may be an implicit welcome, one of which we’re not fully aware.  One type of grace that exemplifies this is prevenient grace.  Prevenient grace is the grace that literally “comes before,” which draws us to God even when we don’t feel like we want to be close to God.  This is the grace that pushes us to confession when we have sinned.  This is the grace that opens us up so that other types of God’s grace can fill us and compel us to do great things for the Lord.  Nothing good happens simply by our willing it.  Anything good that we can do is a result of God’s grace.  Somehow, St. Peter was open to our Lord taking over at that moment, and so He did.
    But next, Christ asks something that seems contrary to our understanding.  In the case of our Gospel, even though Peter had been fishing all night, Christ tells him to put out into deep waters for a catch.  We hear a bit of the cynicism in Peter’s first words, saying that they had been fishing all night.  Our Lord was a carpenter and a rabbi.  He was not a fishing expert.  Peter was the fishing expert, being told what to do by someone who had no knowledge of the trade.  It would be as if I told an engineer, or auto mechanic how to do their job.  How many times in our life does our Lord ask something of us, something that we don’t feel makes any sense, or seems contrary to our experience, and we, at least at first, balk at His suggestion?
    But Peter does cast his nets, and he not only catches some fish, he catches so many fish he has to call other boats, and even with their help the boats almost sink, so laden are they with the plethora of fish.  You can imagine St. Peter’s draw dropping.  You can almost hear him say, “But…but…but…”.  We may sometimes think that God can do small stuff, can effect small changes, or changes that gradually occur over time.  But sometimes God wants to make big changes, to exhibit His omnipotence, His power over everything.  Think of your own life: when has God done something large and unexpected for you?
    And then, in that moment where God shows us what He can do, we are aware of that earlier cynicism, that earlier doubt that we expressed, maybe in our words, maybe only in our hearts.  And we recognize that we are sinners, unworthy of the presence of the Lord.  St. Peter said, “‘Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.’”  Maybe our version is, “Lord, you can find someone better for this.  I’m not the person you need or want.  There are others more qualified than I for what you’re seeking.”  
    Notice what Christ doesn’t say.  He doesn’t say, “You’re right, there are other people more qualified than you.”  He doesn’t say, “See?  You shouldn’t have doubted.”  Not even a “C’mon, man!”  Christ simply says, “Be not afraid,” and then tells Peter he will be catching men in the future, not fish.  As a side note, Christ’s words are quite prophetic, as St. Peter, in the rest of the Gospels from this point on, can never seem to catch a fish without Jesus making it happen.
    One of the treasures of the Gospels is that they so often mirror our life.  We read these passages, and then think of times in our own life that seem eerily familiar.  They’re not ever exactly the same, but there’s a similar theme or pattern.  And I’m sure this is true with this passage for more people here than just me.  How many times have we doubted God, then God does something great, and our response is to pull back, to try to shrink away because we are ashamed of our lack of faith?  But God doesn’t condemn us; He strengthens us and tells us to do something great ourselves.
    But again, Peter is one of those people who needs lessons to be taught again and again and again.  He has his moments of greatness, but usually they are followed by a quick fall afterwards.  Think of Matthew 16 where He proclaims that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.  Our Lord blesses Peter and gives him the keys to the kingdom of heaven, promising to build His Church upon Peter and making Peter the first pope.  And then, a few verses later, after our Lord announced His Passion, Peter tells Christ, “That’s not the plan,” to which Christ responds, “Get behind me, Satan.”  Later in the Gospels, the Pharisees will ask Peter if Christ pays the temple tax, and, without consulting, Peter says He does.  But Christ points out how this makes no sense, since He is the Lord of the temple.  But then He helps Peter catch a fish that will pay the temple tax for both Peter and Christ.  We are all aware of Peter swearing that He will never abandon the Lord, even if everyone else does, and hours later denying that he even knows Christ.  In John 21, to make up for the denial, our Lord asks Peter three times if he loves Him.  And then Peter is commanded to care for the Church, and is told that He will die by others dressing him and leading him where he does not want to go.  And even after that great dialogue, Peter starts to wonder about John and what will happen to him, and our Lord has to tell Peter not to worry, but simply to follow Him.  And lastly, even right before his martyrdom, St. Peter seeks to leave Rome as Nero’s persecution is intensifying.  But exiting Rome on the Appian Way, Peter sees Christ walking towards Rome, and asks, “Domine, quo vadis?”–“Lord, where are you going?”  The Lord tells Peter that He is going to be crucified a second time, and at that moment, Peter realizes that he cannot leave Rome, but must suffer for Christ, and ends up being crucified upside down.

From the Church Domine Quo Vadis in Rome

     

Do not be afraid if you don’t always understand the ways in which God works.  Do not be afraid if you sometimes wonder if the Lord can do great things in your life.  Do not be afraid when you realize He can, and you recognize your sinfulness.  If our Lord can work with Peter, He can work with you.  “Be not afraid” and follow our Lord’s invitation, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Peace and the Kingdom of God

 Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Life is full of ups and downs.  There are days of rejoicing, but there are also days of sorrow.   It is so easy to see only the bad things, the things that are going wrong, in our life.  The “downs” seem to clamor for attention at each and every second.  
    The same was true for the people to whom Jesus came.  The Jewish people were ruled by the Romans, who were not known for their generosity nor gentleness to those they ruled, especially when those they ruled had a tendency to rebel and cause problems, as certain groups of Jews did.  There was a puppet king, Herod, whom the Romans allowed to exercise some little authority to try to appease the Chosen People, but who held no respect from the people.  No prophet had claimed to speak for God for hundreds of years, save John the Baptist.  The Pharisees remained ever-present to remind you not to break the law.  Leprosy was lurking in the population, which would get you expelled from your neighborhood and basic civilization.  The rich seemed to always get richer, and the poor seemed always to get poorer.

    In the midst of that sorry situation, Jesus sent His disciples out to announce “peace” and good news.  What is that good news?  That the Kingdom of God is at hand.  God’s reign was breaking into the world, and the final battle had begun that would lead to the irrevocable victory of God.  God’s People would no longer be oppressed by any force, earthly or spiritual.  God’s Word would not only be heard, but would come to fulfillment.  The Law would be written on hearts and would be liberating.  Sickness and disease would cease, and all would have their fill of the good things of the Lord.  That does sound like good news!!
    And that is the same message that we proclaim today.  The message has not, in essence, changed in 2,000 years, because it is not our message, but the message of the Messiah.  The message has not changed in essence in 2,000 years because, while governments come and go; while words from experts and gurus multiply every year; while some use rules to put others down; while new viruses continue to wreak havoc and the poor are still separated from the rich, yet the Kingdom of God is still breaking into our world, leading to it’s perfect fulfillment at the end of time.  And we still need to hear that good news.
    Because it is easy to notice all the negative.  It is easy to focus on the faults and failings and the things that never seem to go well or as we planned.  It is easy for our hearts to be disturbed and full of anger and hate.  And so we still need to hear, “‘Peace to this household’” and “‘The kingdom of God is at hand for you.’”  
    You probably need to hear that message, and so I proclaim it to you.  But you also probably know people who need to hear that message, who need peace and the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God in their lives.  And it is so easy to put it off sharing that with others.  It’s so easy to let our day become filled with noise and busyness and many things that we don’t have to do, but that keep us blissfully numb.  How many times have we thought, “I should call this person”, only to then quickly move on to the next task at hand and not call them for days…or weeks…or ever?  
    8 June was National Best Friends Day.  I think this is a holiday that Hallmark made up.  But none the less, it’s a thing.  And so I bought my two best friends cards expressing gratitude for being a good friend to me.  Let me tell you, it’s a little hard to find good cards to send best friends who are guys.  Many were a bit too mushy for my liking, so I did the best I could with the selection from which I was choosing.  A few days later I saw one of my best friends, and he thanked me for the card, but wondered why I sent it.  I guess I forgot to put “Happy National Best Friends Day” in the card.  But I sent it because I am grateful and appreciate my friends, and so I said so.

    When was the last time you sent a card or a letter to someone?  Not an email; not a text; not even a phone call.  When was the last time you wrote a letter or wrote a physical note to someone?  Emails, texts, and phone calls are nice.  But cards say you went the extra mile to take time and write out words and buy a stamp and put it in the mail.  Even if you’re not wandering around the countryside to spread God’s peace and kingdom like the disciples in the Gospel, you can do so by the mail.  That one letter or card can change a person’s life.  Especially for the younger folk here, I know that seems like an odd thing to write a letter, but it really does make a difference.  We’re so used to getting only bills or junk ads in the mail.  When we get a card or a letter, it’s a very pleasant surprise.
    Every town and every person has its ups and downs.  We have good days and bad days.  But Jesus has commissioned us to spread His peace and the good news of the kingdom that Jesus won by His Blood.  When we do this, maybe by writing a letter or a card, it can raise someone to new life and help to inscribe our names in heaven.

Seeking the Lost

 Third Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  I think that we all have had moments like the woman who lost her coin.  It may not have been for money, but I’m willing to be we have all had those times when we are looking for something, we can’t find it, and our mind won’t rest until we do find it.  So we tear the house apart looking for our lost item.  I would remind you that St. Anthony of Padua is a great resource when we have lost something.
    How amazing is it that our God tells us that He is like that woman, searching for us like she searches for a lost coin?!  Of course, unlike coins, we can move ourselves away.  I suppose the metaphor for us would be more like searching for a small frog that likes hopping around the house.  After all, it’s not like we get put somewhere and just stay there.  When we’re lost, it’s because we’ve walked away from God.
    But God keeps coming after us.  He never gives up on us.  Even if we try to run far away from Him, He is always right there behind us, beckoning us back, like a parent of a toddler whose child tries to run away, while the parent never lets the toddler out of his sight or reach.  This devotion to us makes sense only with the logic of love, in the same way that a shepherd going after one lost sheep and leaves the ninety-nine.  The math doesn’t add up, unless one is calculating with love.
    But, as we are called to be those disciples, that is meant to be our mentality, too.  As followers of Christ, God calls us to go after the lost sheep who have wandered away, or even the sheep who have not been part of Christ’s flock, but whom God desires to be one of His own.  This is one way that we live out the spiritual works of mercy: to counsel the doubtful, instruct the ignorant, and admonish the sinner.  
    When we do this, it must be with love.  God is love, and so if we wish to draw others to Him, we will only be successful to the degree that we counsel, instruct, and admonish with love.  To tell someone that it’s stupid to question the faith, or to condemn someone’s ignorance, or to yell at someone for something wrong that he or she has done does is not to seek after a lost sheep, but to hunt for one with a rifle; is to trash a house while searching for the lost coin.  
    I know that sounds obvious, but when we love the faith and treasure our relationship with God, as I know we do, it can seem painful to us when that is rejected.  It’s like parents who are so hurt when a child rejects what they say that they discipline in anger, rather than out of love.  Sometimes disciplining in anger, not is love, is not even intended, but it happens.  And so, when we know we’re going to talk to someone who disagrees with us on the faith, or is questioning something near and dear to us, or maybe has left a life of virtue for a life of sin, we should pray for that gentleness of Christ, and to show our love, even when correction is necessary.
    When we counsel the doubtful, instruct the ignorant, and admonish the sinner, we also imitate God when we not only acknowledge, but respect, a person’s free will.  Love never forces itself on another.  It always respects the other person’s freedom.  As Bonnie Rait sang, “I can’t make you love me if you don’t.”  We cannot force another person to see the light.  This is especially frustrating, and I know I have metaphorically banged my head on the wall when there’s someone who doesn’t see how their actions are leading them away from God, or hurting themselves, or, most often, some form of both.  It’s especially hard when it’s someone who is close to us, perhaps a family member or dear friend, who doesn’t see the lies that they’re buying.  

    The analogy that comes to mind is fromthe movie “The Return of the King,” when Samwise, Frodo, and Gollum are climbing the stairs of Cirith Ungol.  Gollum has been poisoning Frodo’s mind to suggest that Sam will try to take the One Ring away and will hurt Frodo.  Gollum then, while Frodo and Sam are sleeping, throws away their food supply, and when Sam awakes to see this happening, starts attacking Gollum.  But Frodo takes Gollum’s side, and sends Sam, who has been nothing but loyal to Frodo, away.  Sin darkens our minds, and doesn’t let us see clearly the pain that we are causing.  And often we don’t see that until we’re snapped out of it through recognizing how bad things have gotten, just as Frodo finally realizes that Sam has been his friend and the one who has truly helped him when Gollum leads Frodo into the lair of the giant spider-like creature, Shelob, so that Shelob can kill Frodo and Gollum can take the ring.  
    Because God desires the lost with a great passion, that should be our passion, too.  As we hear about all the fallen-away Catholics, think of the great numbers our parish could swell to if we were able to bring back even a percentage of those who have strayed.  Pray for those who are away, especially if you’re going to talk to them later.  Pray to both your own and the other person’s guardian angel to protect the conversation from any outside diabolical influence.  Pray for that love of God to be communicated in what you say and how you say it.  Pray to be as convincing as possible, while also respecting the other person’s freedom.  And then pray afterwards that the words you have spoken will be confirmed by the Holy Spirit and that the same Holy Spirit will open that person’s heart to the truth and love of God.  In that way, we will be like our God, who desires not the death of the sinner, but that he repent and live.  In that way we will be like the one who searches for us when we sin, God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

A Plethora of Disciples

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    In the 1986 comedy, “Three Amigos,” starring Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, and Martin Short, there is a scene where the the main villain, El Guapo asks his second in command, Jefe, “Would you say I have a plethora of piñatas?”  Jefe responds, “A what?”  El Guapo answers back, “A plethora.”  Jefe tells El Guapo, “Oh yes.  You have a plethora.”  El Guapo then questions Jefe, “Jefe, what is a plethora?…If you told me I have a plethora, and I just would like to know if you know what a plethora is.”  In case you were not prepared for a vocab quiz today, a plethora is defined as a large or excessive amount of something.

      So we now know what a plethora is.  But do we know what the word disciple means?  Because today’s first reading and Gospel focus in on being a disciple, whether of the prophet Elijah in the first reading, or of Jesus in the Gospel.  And we here probably consider ourselves disciples.  But do we know what it means?
    Our English word disciple comes from the Latin, discipulus, meaning a student, scholar, or follower.  But being a disciple was more than that in the ancient world.  Being a disciple meant that you sought to live like the master, and make his or her way of life your own.  We don’t often think of students becoming like every teacher or professor they have (indeed, sometimes students really dislike their teachers or professors).  But disciples were, in some way, self-selected.  You could choose which master or teacher you wanted to follow.  But when you did make that commitment, it wasn’t about 9 hours in a classroom each day, or a 18 weeks of meeting twice or thrice each week.  Choosing to live as a disciple meant a life-long commitment, even living like the master after he or she was gone.
    So when we talk about Jesus’ disciples, that is the mindset in which they sought to follow Him.  But, as we heard today, sometimes people didn’t want to make that entire commitment, or Jesus wanted to make sure that they knew with what they were getting involved.  Following Jesus, we hear today, is even more important than burying one’s own family, or saying farewell to one’s family.  And it means that one may have to give up external stability, like a set place to rest one’s head.  But does it still mean that today?
    Being a disciple today is slightly different, but the idea of commitment is no different.  Jesus has to be our number one priority, if we wish to be the disciples God wants us to be.  It doesn’t necessarily meant that we won’t have any home, or that we cannot have time with our family, or even bury family members.  But it does mean that we make our life not about ourselves and our desires, but about Jesus.
    Consecrated men and women, whom we often call “religious,” do take vows to live as a disciple in a more radical way.  They give up a family of their own, a bank account of their own, and even choosing how they want to serve, through the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience.  Diocesan priests also make the promise of celibacy, and seek to live a simple life, detached from their possessions (even though they have their own bank account), and promise respect and obedience to their bishop and his successors. 
    But being a disciple is not just for consecrated men and women, and priests.  Being a disciple is the commitment our parents made for us, or we made for ourselves, at baptism.  Our parents promised for us, or we made promises, to live like Christ to the best of our ability, no matter what our vocation.  Christ became our Master so that it would no longer be I who live, but Christ who lives in me, as St. Paul said. 
    So who do we put first in our lives?  Whose rule do we follow?  We’re here today, at Mass, so we are at least giving Christ this time.  But do we do so every week, or only when we feel like it?  Is going to Mass our biggest priority, or is going to Mass at a certain time our biggest priority? 
    Whose voice do we hear first, and to whose voice do we respond?  The voice of Christ, or the voice of our preferred political party?  Let me let you in on a secret, even while certain political parties espouse ideas which are gravely antithetical to being Catholic, no political party can claim the obedience we owe to Christ.  Yes, we are sometimes called to choose the lesser of two evils (as long as we’re not choosing a political party because of evil policies they advocate or adopt), but our allegiance to this or that party should be way down the list, with our allegiance to Christ at the top, and then probably family, country, and friends. 
    With the decline in religious observance in this country, it is interesting that people have not jettisoned obedience that we would normally give to God; they have transferred it to something else.  There is a need to give someone our entire loyalty built into us.  So if we don’t give it to God, we will give it to someone or something else.  Recently, I think many people have transferred religious submission of will and intellect to political parties, such that disagreement with the latest political platform is akin to heresy. 
    Do we truly live as disciples, or are we only living in a shell of what that word means?  When it comes to major issues of our day–abortion, euthanasia, so-called homosexual marriage, racism, service of the poor, when to receive or not receive Holy Communion–are our positions formed by the Gospel, or by the politician we like the best?  We use this word “disciple” a lot, and often for ourselves.  But do we really know what it means?

Connecting to the Force of the Eucharist

 Solemnity of Corpus Christi
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  A few weeks back I was super excited to see that a new Star Wars series had started that detailed what happened to Obi-Wan Kenobi between Episode III, when he delivers baby Luke Skywalker to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, and Episode IV, where Luke, now an adult, finds “Ben” Kenobi and asks him for help with a message that the droid R2-D2 had delivered.

    I won’t give a lot away of the new series for anyone who’s interested, but I do want to focus on Obi-Wan for a second.  Obi-Wan was one of the greatest Jedi, along with Yoda and Mace Windu.  He bested Anakin Skywalker, who was also a great Jedi (though failed to actually kill him).  But the series begins with him lost, making his way through a quotidian, hum-drum life.  The few Jedi that remain are still being hunted, so he’s trying to lay low on Tatooine, while still watching over Luke, as Yoda ordered Obi-Wan to do.  In the beginning of the series (no spoilers, don’t worry), Obi-Wan shows a real lack of being able to use the force, a Jedi’s source of power, because he has lost practice and been separated from using it for so long.
    Star Wars is quite gnostic, and filled with some far-eastern religion influences, so it’s not quite a great analogy to Christianity.  But, as I prepared my homily for Corpus Christi, and knowing how few Catholics believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist and how many Catholics have left the faith, I was struck by the real danger, not of being separated from the force, but being separated from the Eucharist.
    The Eucharist is our force.  It is what gives us power to live as disciples of Christ.  No, we generally are not able to suspend people in the air, or wave our hand and effect suggestions on the weak-minded, nor are we given swords that can pulse through bodies and metal and block blasters.  But we are given the Body and Blood of Christ to strengthen us to live as the saints we are called to be.  
    I think about baptized Catholics I know and, I can’t give a number, but suffice it to say a lot, they have left the Mass for ecclesial communities (non-Catholic groups, often Evangelicals) that have rock bands for music, or screens with amazing videos and presentations.  Some leave after a short while; others stick with it for a long time, or even the rest of their lives.  They often say that they’re getting more out of their worship, or feel better about going to church, or are learning more about the Scriptures.
    Before I continue, I do want to warn us (myself included) against smugness and a superiority complex.  And, while I’m not accusing anyone here, I will say it can be a very strong and particular temptation for those who attend the Extraordinary Form.  It can be very easy to say that, because we appreciate the older liturgy, which does tend to have a greater sense of transcendence, we are better than others.  It is very easy to be Pharisaical and thank God that we’re not like those other Catholics who attend a Novus Ordo Mass, and our superiority is borne out by how many kids we have, or that we go to Mass every Sunday, or that we tend to believe what the Church teaches on the faith and morals.  Don’t get me wrong, large families are great blessings, you should go to Mass every Sunday and holyday, and staying faithful to the Church’s teaching on faith and morals is a sign that one is walking with Christ.  But when those things are used as weapons against others, or used to make us seem better than others, then what could be a strength can easily become a downfall.
    Back to my point: as Catholics leave the practice of their faith, they are leaving the Eucharist.  Only if a Catholic left for an Orthodox church or a schismatic Catholic church could we say that they would still receive the Eucharist, even if those other communities offer “communion.”  But as a person separates themself from the Eucharist, they lose connection to that which gives them power to live as a disciples, as Christ has revealed through His Church.  Even if a Catholic simply stops going to Mass on a regular basis, and doesn’t even join another community, he or she is losing the nourishment that Christ wants to provide us so that we can follow Him faithfully.  Is it a wonder, then, as Catholics have stopped going to Mass or have left the faith altogether that more and more Catholics or ex-Catholics start supporting things which are contrary to the faith?  
    Again, we may say, “Well, thank God that’s not me!”  But, as the saying goes, “But for the grace of God go I.”  Part of the beauty of these annual celebrations is that we remind ourselves of the treasures that we have, not to grasp on to them and hoard them, but to utilize them and share the graces we receive from them with others.  Catholics used to go to Mass weekly in greater numbers, north of 70 or 80 percent!  But perhaps they forgot the beauty of what they had, and so they didn’t go as frequently, or didn’t pass on that greatness of the gift of the faith to their children, because it wasn’t fully appreciated.  Other, secular realities grew in importance, even though it didn’t give them the power to fight the good fight on earth, in preparation for being welcomed into heaven.  
    And so we need to remind ourselves that the Eucharist is our strength!  Without it, we are lost, and cannot be the people God wants us to be.  Without the Eucharist, marriage becomes so much more difficult, because the Eucharist is sacrifice, and marriage always calls for that sacrificial love.  Without the Eucharist the virtue of chastity is so much more difficult, because we are disconnected from the source of every virtue.  Without the Eucharist, we cannot love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us, because we no longer receive the one who gave Himself up for His enemies and persecutors inside us in the same way.  Without the Eucharist, our care for the poor makes no sense, because we are not taking in the God who made Himself poor so that we might become rich.  In other words, to be the Catholic disciples God wants us to be without the Eucharist is impossible.  And that even impels us to walk in the streets as we will today, to bring our Eucharistic Lord into the public, so that others can remember how much they need him!
    And the difficulty to live the faith without the Eucharist should keep us coming back, even if the prayers don’t always make sense to us; or the music isn’t what we like (Gregorian chant is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, and properly Catholic, but it often doesn’t cause an emotive response that so many desire); even if we struggle in those long moments of silence to keep our attention on the sacrifice being offered.  
    Obi-Wan struggled after his fight with Anakin because Obi-Wan became disconnected from the force.  We will struggle to live a holy life if we disconnect ourselves from the Eucharist (we may struggle with the Eucharist, but it would be even harder without it!).  Use the force that God has given us for living as His disciples.  Stay connected through the Eucharist to Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Son reign for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Simple and Complex

 Feast of the Most Holy Trinity
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.].  How is it that the most fundamental part of our religion, the teaching that defines us as a faith–our belief in the Most Holy Trinity, one God and three divine Persons–is so hard to explain?  We often think of what is most basic as what is the simplest.  But, when it comes to our faith, that’s not quite right.
    Followers of Christ have struggled with this teaching from early on.  The heretic Arius, in order to uphold the oneness of God, held that Jesus was not really God.  Another heresy, pneumatomachianism, taught that the Holy Spirit was not really God.  Others failed when trying to explain the Most Holy Trinity, by saying that the different Persons were simply different phases of the one God, like water can be a solid, liquid or gas (that was the heresy of modalism).  Or another failure was that God was like the sun, where God the Father is like the sun itself, and Jesus is the the light, and the Holy Spirit is the heat (another version of Arianism).  Or there’s the heresy of partialism, which taught that the three divine Persons are each parts of the one Godhead.  Or (and I don’t know the name for this) the very vogue teaching that we can change the names of the Persons to be less restrictive (as in God the Creator, God the Redeemer, and God the Sanctifier).  All of those are really intriguing ways that we have gotten the teaching of the Most Holy Trinity wrong.  
    So what we do believe?  We believe in one God, who is also three divine Persons–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit–co-equal in glory, majesty, and power, yet not three gods, but One.  The Father is not the Son, nor is the Son the Holy Spirit, nor is the Holy Spirit the Father, and yet the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are all one God.

    We struggle because we are finite–limited, while God is infinite–unlimited.  So we rely on what our infinite God has revealed to our finite minds.  We need the Holy Spirit, whom we celebrated last week and whom we celebrate this week.  And we stick to what the Holy Spirit has revealed, because the Most Holy Trinity is the foundation for all life, but especially for our life, and even more than that, for our salvation.  If we get who the Trinity is wrong, we get who we are wrong, and we mess-up our connection to salvation.  Recently, a handful of priests have been discovered to have done great damage by changing the way babies are baptized (most often, changing the words).  While some question why this matters, the Church asserts that words do matter, and if baptism is the beginning of our saving relationship with God (which it is), then if we get the beginning wrong, the rest of it cannot follow.  
    But The Trinity is not just the beginning.  It should be our day-to-day connection as well.  Our spiritual life should be connected to all three divine Persons if we are to live in the fulness of grace that God desires for us.  We often say “God” when we mean God the Father, and He is often the one to whom we address our prayers.  But we should also pray to and through Christ, because He is consubstantial with the Father.  And we should not forget to turn in prayer to the Holy Spirit, “the Lord and Giver of life,…who with the Father and the Son is adored and glorified.”  Our prayers at Mass often highlight this, as we most often pray to the Father, “Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.”  
    How do we guide our life by the Trinity?  One easy way is to read the revelation of the Trinity in the Sacred Scriptures.  How has God, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, spoken to us in an inerrant way through the Bible?  What moral laws has God revealed that help us to be the best person that we can be?  Whether it’s the Ten Commandments, the Sermon on the Mount and what Christ taught in the Gospels, or the teachings of St. Paul in the New Testament about not being greedy, or making false gods for ourselves, or being sexually immoral, those are great guidelines to know whether or not we are living in the reality that the Trinity intends.
    Another way to live our life by the Trinity is by love.  St. John wrote in his epistle that God is love, and the applies to each divine Person.  God the Father is love, God the Son is love, and God the Holy Spirit is love.  If we are to live in the best way possible, we are called to love others.  And that love, as the Trinity shows us, is always about sacrificing for the other, and leading the other into truth.  Our Lord sacrificed Himself so that we could go to heaven, in the full out-pouring of Himself in love.  And the Holy Spirit, our Lord taught, leads us into all truth, so that our love is not merely delight or affection, but is grounded in what is most real and the way that the Trinity created the world.  If we are living like a toddler, who loves as long as he gets what he wants, then that’s not the love of the Trinity, the love that will save us and make us truly happy.  If our expression of love is only about what feels good, rather than sacrificing, even when it’s quite painful, then that’s not the love of the Trinity, which would never do anything to endanger the other person.  
    In a way, the Trinity is as hard to describe as love is, even though the Trinity and love are foundational to life.  But because of the love of the Trinity, we get glimpses of who God is in Himself, which helps us to understand how He made us, and how we are called to live and what will make us truly happy.  When our love is off, when we try to redefine love, then we are not living the Trinitarian life.  And when our understanding of the Trinity is off, when we try to remake God in our own image, the way we act will not be truly loving.  Ground yourself in the life of the Trinity: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

The Upper Room

 Solemnity of Pentecost
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]  Harold Samuel is famous (or at least his phrase is) for saying in 1944 that the most important thing in property is location, location, location.  And as we celebrate the Solemnity of Pentecost, it’s important to look at the location of this dramatic gift of the Holy Spirit from the Father and the Son.

The Upper Room in Jerusalem

    St. Luke writes in the Acts of the Apostles that the Blessed Mother, Apostles, and disciples were gathered in the Upper Room in Jerusalem.  We might gloss past that location, except that Upper Room was the place of the Last Supper, as well as the first appearance of our Lord after Easter.  Pentecost, then, is connected to the new life of Easter, and to the Eucharist.
    The Eucharist is the sacramental presentation of Jesus’ suffering and death, His sacrifice on Calvary.  Through it we are connected to the oblation which saved us from sin and death.  In the Eucharist we receive the love of the Son, who was willing to lay down His life, not only for His friends, but even for His enemies.  Christ commanded His Apostles to celebrate the Eucharist in His remembrance throughout the ages as the way to connect all people who were baptized into His Death and Resurrection, and who follow Him in their life, to Him so that they could grow in that same love that Christ first showed us.
    The Resurrection, for its part, is the proof that Christ is who He says He is.  People saw the Lord die.  They saw Him expire on the Cross.  But when He was raised from the dead, that was a shock to most.  It certainly shocked the Apostles.  The Resurrection proved that nothing was more powerful than Christ, and that He truly was divine.  No one had risen before by their own power, and it has not happened since.  While the many healing miracles gave proof to the divinity of Christ, the Resurrection closed any doubt that our Lord was greater than the prophets, some of whom had also healed people, and had even raised people from the dead.  But no prophet raised Himself from the dead.  And so, when the tomb was empty; when our Lord appeared and showed His wounds, first to Mary Magdalene, and then to the Apostles and Blessed Mother gathered in the Upper Room, there was no doubt that this Jesus was different, an unlike any who had come before Him.  
    And, as we celebrate Pentecost today, we know that the Father sent the Holy Spirit through Christ the Son to the Blessed Mother, Apostles, and disciples gathered in that same Upper Room, at which point they could not help but speak about Christ, who had suffered and died, and who had risen from the dead.  And the Holy Spirit gave them the ability to speak in many languages, so that all could understand in their own native languages.  The dispersion of Babel was undone in the unified gift of tongues; the hope of Moses and the prophecy of Joel that all would speak for God as prophets came true; the dry bones of faith that the disciples had was enlivened by the courage that the Holy Spirit gave them to proclaim that Jesus is Lord and Messiah.  
    But we also are in the Upper Room, each time we gather in this sacred space.  We assemble to have Christ provide His Body and Blood once more for us, as we are obedient to His command to do this in His memory.  We who have been baptized into His Death and Resurrection, and who do not have any major departures from following Christ are invited to taste the Bread of Angels.  
    The Bread of Angels gives us the new life of the Resurrection and raises us from the coma of daily life through which we can so easily sleepwalk.  Christ said in John chapter six that if we do not eat His flesh and drink His blood, we do not have life within us.  When we worthily receive the Eucharist, we are given the new life of Christ, the life of the Resurrection dwelling inside of us and connecting us to the one over whom even death has no power.   
    But it is not meant to end there.  The Upper Room is not only the place where we sacramentally enter into the Paschal Mystery; not only the place where we rise with Christ through our reception of Holy Communion.  It is also the place from which, like the disciples, we are sent out by the Holy Spirit to share the Good News that God has taken flesh and dwelt among us; that sin and death have been conquered in Christ; and that we can have access to that eternal life through union with Christ.  The Holy Spirit works to push us out of here to share the Gospel by word and deed to those who have never heard the proclamation of Christ, or who have heard it but who have fallen away, or who have heard it and have remained faithful, but need a new invigoration to continue living out the life of Christ in our daily circumstances.

    We, as Catholics, tend to be really good at the first two parts of the Upper Room: the Eucharist and the Resurrection.  We tend to be really good at being fed and receiving new life.  But to ignore the third scene of the Upper Room, the gift of the Spirit, is to remain dry bones.  Perhaps we may even have muscle and sinew in us, but we do not have spirit to make us alive.  
    Our challenge today and every day is to take practical steps to share the Gospel.  When we notice a co-worker who is struggling, to ask them if we can help, especially by listening to them and praying with them.  When we see someone bound in the slavery to sin, to let them know that their actions are leading them further away from God, and to offer our assistance to bring them back, perhaps by bringing them to confession with us, and then to Mass.  When someone has good news, to celebrate with them and say, “Praise God!”, from whom every good thing has its origin.  There are so many other ways, but these are just a few of how we take what we have received, and share it with others.
    Our Mass is not meant to stay here within these walls.  Yes, we come to this Upper Room to receive the new life of the Resurrection in the Eucharist.  But our daily worship of God, for which the Eucharist strengthens us, is meant to be extended into each hour of every day in our homes, in our cars, in our workplaces, and in our recreation.  Our religion is not simply about coming together into a sacred place once or more a week.  Our religion is also about acting differently, treating others differently, and bringing them to the truth and healing that only Christ can provide.  In the ways that are proper for our individual lives, may our deeds and words speak “of the mighty acts of God,” [the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.]