Monday, November 2, 2009

Restoring Devotions




It seems that I have become the person to restore things - I guess it is very Franciscan, but I hate letting things be neglected.  Recently, a brother let me have a statue of the Virgin Mary that was starting to deteriorate.  I decided to repaint it, and I am fascinated by this particular statue because I have never seen it before.  She is dressed either as a Native American or as an Egyptian.  However, it is very beautiful and rare; most Mary statues are of her depicted as the Immaculate Conception.

The infant of Prague is a very old devotion to the child Jesus.  Growing up, I remember seeing it in my house or in the church I attended.  Interestingly, I never attributed it the baby Jesus or the child Jesus.  A lot of these devotions were (at least in my case) never explained to me.  Therefore, I simple dismissed them or worse yet, was influenced by arguments that it's all idolatry.  Devotion to the Lord in any form is not idolatry.  Having a picture of my family or friends hanging on my wall is no different then wanting an image of the holy family around.  After all, pictures are graven images as well, but I don't worship them.  My theory is: people will always be jealous of something you have (like a devotional life), and if they can't understand it (or have it), they attack it.  Right now, I am having the Prague statue repaired which was going to be thrown out because one of it's arms was missing  My friend Harriet, who makes the gowns for all the liturgical seasons for the Prague, is letting me have this one until mine gets repaired.  I did some touch up on it, and I think it looks amazing.



I am also working very hard to retore the Sacred Heart shrine at the college of st. Joseph.  I am getting very close to accomplishing what I set out to do.  I should have some pictures of it very shortly.  Until then, remember what St. Augustine stated - the purpose of life is  to have a devotional life.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time




This weekend, St. Peter's has a missionary priest speaking at all the litergies, so I am not scheduled to preside at any of the masses.  I had planned on using this time to work on the shrine at the college, but since the forecast was for rain all weekend, I decided to return to Boston.  I am happy to be presiding this Sunday at my former parish, Sacred Heart.  I feel I owe it to the people since they watched me develop, and were a part of my priestly formation.  This was arranged last minute, so they are going to be surprised when they see me process out.  I am very excited, and can't believe how much I miss this worshipping community.

I like today's gospel because Jesus is on a journey too - towards Jerusalem, where he will face his death. What a paradox: Jesus' own life is headed for death, while others are receiving new life from him at the same time.  The blind man Bartimaeus calls out to the Lord, and refuses to be stopped by anyone.  Jesus asks the same question he asked James and John last Sunday, "What is it you want me to do for you?"   The disciples, James and John, got it wrong; all they wanted was status and power. A poor blind man gets it right; he wants to see.  Not only does Bartimus want to see, but he wants to see in order to follow the Lord.

Our nation is calling out for better health care.  There are those who only want to silence the voices that want better, more affordable, care.  There is nothing wrong with wanting better care, but all the health care in the world can not give us the gift of faith Bartimaeus had.

The readings today are telling us that God hears the cry of his people.  The Lord is just as concerned with the plight of his people today as he was when Bartimaeus was crying out.  Christ hasn't changed his mission or his mind; he is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  In an age when we are inundated with promises of wonder drugs, we as God's people, have another resource - it's called God's mercy.  The best part - it's very affordable, as a matter of fact, God's mercy is a free gift given to anyone who would ask.  The question is - are we ready to ask?

Recently, a friend of mine was in a very difficult, medical, situation.  It did not look good for her, and I asked her if she was asking God for help?  She, sheepishly, responded, "Not really...I don't want to brother Him...I mean...isn't God kind of busy considering the state the world is in right now?"

If we are honest, most of us have this polite-kind-of relationship with God: I don't ask too much of God, and God won't expect too much from me - that is the way we like it!  When Bartimaeus received his sight, he didn't respond by saying, "Great, now I get to catch the Patriots game!" (even thought they are playing well aren't they)  God isn't interested in healing us so that we can be complacent.  God wants to heal us so that we can see with new eyes our relationship with Him, and that means responding the way Bartimaeus did -  by getting up and following the Lord!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The Prayer Garden


At the College of St. Joseph, one of the school councilors kept mentioning he wanted to get some students involved with the "prayer garden" located in a wooded area not far from the main campus. He said the students considered it a "Pet Cemetery" and wanted nothing to do with it.  It sparked my curiosity,  (I figure if a parishioner comes to me with their deceased pet I might have a place to do the burial) and I asked him to take me to this "prayer garden" to see if it had any possibilities.  Walking across the grounds, I started to realize how vast this small campus is.  The beauty of this place being surrounded by Mount Killington is breath taking.  I wondered if staff and students alike, take it for granted living in such a picturesque environment?  Today, I certainly felt gratitude for being so fortunate living in the beauty of  this place.




Mark showed me the trail which lead into a wooded area, and the quiet was interrupted by the sound of small sparrows, and a squirrel tussling in the fallen leaves...maybe they added to the quiet rather then interrupted it.  As I walked toward the prayer garden, I realized it was not a prayer garden, but an old shrine to the Sacred Heart that has been neglected or forgotten.



The minute I saw the Sacred Heart statue I thought about my year at the parish, Sacred Heart in Roslindale,  Massachusetts when I served as a deacon.  I certainly miss that community because as much as I tried to give to them, they always seemed to show me what real charity was.  I also thought of St. Francis praying in San Damiano chapel, and how the Lord spoke to him from the crucifix saying,  "Francis, go rebuild my church, for it is fallen into ruin."  The Sacred Heart image didn't always speak to me in the past, but as I have gotten older, I appreciate it more because it reminds me that Christ is always for us.  The Lord's heart is sacred because it is filled with love for his people.  Even with our acts of rebellion and shrugs of indifference, Christ's heart is about reconciliation and bringing creation to completion - that is what makes it sacred.

I ran back to get some rakes, buckets and tools.  As I ran, I shouted to Mark to tell the students I was going to fix the place up with or without them.  I certainly hope they join me because it makes life so much more enjoyable when everyone pitches in.  However, it looks like I will be leading by example on this one, which is fine by me, because being in nature with the Sacred Heart is like being in paradise for this religious.


Sunday, October 18, 2009

Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

So much has been happening since I have been ordained that I haven't had time to write about it.  The confirmations and blessings have been abundant - can a person feel too blessed?  Saturday night, I celebrated my first mass in Vermont at St. Peters.  Afterwords, we had a potluck supper at St. Dominick's in proctor.  Sunday morning, for the 9:00am mass, Br. Ted, the guardian, asked me to say mass at St. Bridget's in West Rutland because the pastor was away in Poland.  Since my mother was named Bridget, I felt honored to celebrate my first Sunday mass there.  Little did I know it would be such a wonderful, spirited community.  The cantor, Olivia is a very talented 26 year old.  Listening to her sing was like listening to an angel.  After communion, she sang an Irish blessing in tribute to my mother who died when I was a child - it moved me to tears.  All I could  think  about was how fortunate I am to be able to serve the people of God as an ordained minister - unworthy as I am.  The following is my homily from today.


The Gospel
James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to Jesus and said to him, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you." He replied, "What do you wish me to do for you?" They answered him, "Grant that in your glory we may sit one at your right and the others at your left." Jesus said to them, "You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I drink or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?" They said to him, "We can." Jesus said to them, "The cup that I drink, you will drink, and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right or at my left is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared."


When the ten heard this, they became indignant at James and John. Jesus summoned them and said to them, "You know that those who are recognized as rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all. For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many."

In today’s scripture James and John come to Jesus with a request; they want the place of honor and status when they enter into glory with the Lord. Here, the two disciples show they have failed to understand the true meaning, and inevitable end of the journey to Jerusalem.


Notice Jesus does not roll his eyes, nor does he snap back with a, “who-do-you-think-you-are" comment.  Instead, Jesus takes his role as servant seriously.  He wants to know how he can help James and John even if what they are asking is rooted in ignorance, Jesus does not become upset like the others do.  Instead, he tries to help them understand what they are requesting.  Jesus asks them in return, ‘Are you prepared to suffer the kind of death that I am to suffer?'  The answer is not a simple “yes” or “no” but a challenge: ‘Perhaps the Father will reserve the seats for you, if you willingly take up my cross, my cup, my baptism.”  A baptism of suffering.


Suffering!


In the first reading, and in the gospel, it may sound like all God is interested in is our suffering.  It is easy to miss interpret these readings, and think God is nothing more then a punishing God. Yet, suffering is unavoidable in this life.  For those willing to speak the truth, it is almost guaranteed.  Think about the last time you had to speak the truth to your children.  How popular did that make you?  Or when it becomes obvious a friend or family member has a drinking or drug problem.  Rarely is the response, “Thank you for letting me know.”


As a culture we are inundated with messages and ad’s which tell us there is a easy way out of our suffering.  All you need is this little purple pill! The simple side effects are: irritability, sleeplessness, cramps, bloating, and you may grow elephant ears, but not to worry - all you have to do is call your doctor who is patiently waiting to take your call.  

There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel great or even wanting to be great.  Jesus isn’t abolishing ambition.  He is simply redefining it: for the ambition to rule, he substituted the ambition to serve. For the ambition to have things done for us, he substituted the ambition to do things for others.  However, to be a servant requires certain amount of suffering.  Why? Because when you serve others the “thank you’s” are rare, and the spotlight shins dim.  Most times, people avoid it thinking, "If no one else is going to do it why should I?”  Growing up in my house hold (before the invention of dishwashers) we had a practice I liked to call, “The Hope Soak.” The Hope Soak is when you soak the dishes in water and hope someone else washes them.  Of course, this gets played out today by opening the dishwasher only to discover it’s filled with clean dishes, and then, slowly, closing it hoping someone else will unload it.


We must understand that if we are going to follow the Lord we must be serious about our desire to serve.  So serious was Saint Thérèse, the Little Flower, about service that she once said, “picking up a pin for love could convert a soul.”  However, in most cases, we tend to take on too much thinking we have to save the world.  Because of that, we burn-out, mess up or just plan quite.  The second reading in Hebrews reminds us that we do not have a savior unable to sympathize with our weakness.


No, we have a savior who has been tested in every way like we have - except in sin.  The Lord is not a task master; not a Donald Trump type ready to say, “You’re fired.”  Instead, we can, boldly, approach our God in order to receive mercy; to find grace and help when we feel we are at the end of our strength.


As I begin my priestly ministry here at St. Peter’s, and at the College of St. Joseph’s, I feel fortunate I am surrounded by so many wonderful examples of people eager to serve.   I ask you to please keep me in your prayers so I can be your servant too.  God bless! 





Friday, October 9, 2009

Ordination Day



I am so grateful to God, and for so many people who have been such a source of encouragement and support.  Our God is truly an awesome God, and I look forward to serving the Lord as an ordained minister.  I am a little tired out by all the recent activity, so I am going to be very short in this post because I have to get a homily together for this Sunday.  God bless you all in the blogging community for all your wonderful comments and well wishes.  I will be praying for you all and remembering you as I celebrate mass for the people of God.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

A Fierce Gentleness


Prayer is strange in being an activity
where no success is possible. 
There is no perfect prayer -
except insofar as it corresponds to one's real situation
and represents a total turning toward God. 
The ecstatic prayer of a mystic
is no way superior to the agonized
stumbling of a sinner weighed down with guilt
and deformed by a lifetime of estrangement from God. 
Both attempts represent the upward striving of created nature
to find rest in God; both are real, both are "successful." 
- Michael Casey 


As Pete and I drove up to Our Lady of Hope Center, I felt like I was approaching a home which I had always loved, but had forgotten; who's address I lost, and every attempt to find it on my own proved futile. The grounds were well kept, and the church was a strong, brick, structure.  Even the trees seemed to welcome us, and I was filled with anticipation, but for what I anticipated, I vaguely knew.

As we made our way inside, I remember sitting in a middle pew while Pete disappeared.  I was alone amidst the congregation, and as they burst forth into song, I felt an aliveness that I yearned for, and wanted to be a part of; although startling at first.  When the song dissipated, the people started singing in tongues, which made them sound like chirping birds, and I thought of spring.  It was the most soothing sound I had ever heard.  I looked at them as if I were a dog hearing a high pitched sound, and I wondered how they could sing like that.  I whispered to God - mumbling something about wanting what they had.  The whole church, along with the ministers worshiped as if ascending, and transcending, and  I decided I was not going to be a mere spectator along for the ride.

I began to pray as I sat, contrite, broken, and empty.  I thought if the rusted door of my heart, barely open, swung shut, I would never find the peace I desired.  I asked the Lord to hurry.  The people broke into more song, and I waited; wondering why God would hide from me now.  It seemed like I  was suspended in air, and like a calm before the storm, I held up my hand hoping God would grasp it before the winds and rains ruined my last attempt.

Suddenly, I felt a sensation well up inside me.  Wave upon wave of peace swept over and through me like a cool breeze on a hot summers day.  Immediately, I knew this experience was not something I manufactured, merited, or brought about on my own.  I could not recall the sermon or if I responded to the mass parts with all the kneeling or standing, and sitting.  I can't recall receiving communion or if I moved at all during the liturgy.  I just remember feeling covered, held, and saved for the first time in my life.  I sat contentedly, feeling no pressure; void of worry, or any ill emotions.  Wounds I tried to hide or conceal all my life were being addressed and healed.  Loneliness, and the weight of being on my own was lifted like a damp blanket off my shoulders.  The fear of facing life on life's terms was transformed into the joy of the Lord.  The Spirit of Christ spoke and said, "peace" and this peace was healing me of every poison I had inhaled or consumed.  For the first time, I really felt part of an ecclesiastical community which was experiencing the same Spirit, light, and life.  I was finally free!  I was at home, and the journey in Christ was just beginning. 

Pete came up to me after mass had ended and asked, "So what do you think?"  I looked at him with much gratitude and replied, "Wow...I think what is happening to me will take the rest of my life to explain."  It has, and will continue too, although I will never be able to fully explain it, and words will always fail , but that does not mean we shouldn't speak.  Instead, we should always continue the journey to the Kingdom of God! 

Let us give thanks to the Father
for having made you worthy
to share the lot of the saints in light.


He rescued us
from the power of darkness
and brought us into the kingdom
of his beloved Son.
Through Him we have redemption,
the forgiveness of our sins.

Colossians 1:12-20

Monday, September 28, 2009

Towards God



The distance doesn't matter;
only the first step is difficult.
                 
                                              - Mme. Marquise du Deffand

Wednesday night came, and I found myself waiting outside Neighbors Inn Restaurant for Pete to arrive.   As a kid, Neighbors Inn was the place Greg and I used to go to eat diner with the money we earned shoveling snow in the winter. We would order pizza and a picture of soda, and after getting the bill and fighting over it, we would spend the remaining amount on the video arcade game called, Asteroids.  Then we would walk home in the freshly fallen snow which made a crunching sound under the weight of our feet.  I would examine the luminous storm clouds that were breaking up and revealing the stars which seemed to glow brighter in the winter sky as we speculated about when the next blizzard would hit.

Now I stood pensively, waiting for Pete's blue Ford Fiesta to pull up.  I paced in front of the restaurant, and would peer in the front door window to see what activity was taking place inside.  A few shadowy figures were sitting at the bar, hovering over their beverages like nursing mothers.  I longed to join them, and for a moment, the idea of Pete not showing up filled me with delight as I grabbed the door handle and started turning it clock wise.   As I slowly opened the door, Pete's car pulled up, and the sound of his tires rolling over gravel filled me with a sigh.  "Hey...are you ready?" he asked, as the jukebox playing in the background billowed out of the restaurant.  My heart was ready and God was preparing to fill it with his Spirit, but at the moment, it only felt regret that I had made this decision, which was keeping me from filling my belly with beer. Alcohol was what I craved, but God was what I wanted.  As I turned to Pete, and started walking towards his vehicle, I had every intention of telling him to go without me.   Instead, I opened the passenger side door, and mumbled under my breath that I couldn't believe I was doing this.