Monday, July 11, 2016

Homily for 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
15th Sunday of Ordinary Time
July 10, 2016
Luke 10: 25-37
Holy Cross, Champaign, Ill.

“A scholar of the Law stood up to test Jesus and asked, ‘Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’” (Luke 10: 25).

As we heard, Jesus answers that we must love God totally, entirely, with our whole being, and our neighbor in the same way we love ourselves.  Moses tells the Israelites that God’s commandments aren’t “mysterious and remote” (Deut 30:11) but “very near” them, already in their mouths and hearts (30:14).  Learning from Jesus, we see that God’s command is as close as our neighbor.

The scholar of the Law—literally, the “lawyer”—who was testing Jesus, asked a follow-up question:  “Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29).  Luke tells us that he asked this “to justify himself” (10:29), i.e., to be given a pat on the head and the assurance that he’s a good chap who’s faithful to the Law and beloved of God.

According to the Law of Moses, the Jews were obliged to regard all their fellow Jews as their neighbors and to assist them in need—even those who might be personal enemies.  But there was no obligation whatever to help a Gentile; with clear conscience you could watch him drown.

As we heard, Jesus doesn’t give the lawyer a direct answer.  He tells one of his most famous parables, the one we know as “the Good Samaritan.”

The road between Jerusalem and Jericho was notoriously dangerous, lonely, winding, with many places where a traveler might be ambushed and robbed.  So it happens to the anonymous man in Jesus’ story.  Once he’s been stripped of his clothes and beaten unconscious, there’s no way to identify him, neither ethnic garb nor language.  He might be Jewish, Arab, Greek, Egyptian, Phoenician, even Samaritan.

The priest and the Levite who pass him by could easily justify their behavior.  If the robbers’ victim is dead—you can’t tell without touching him—they’ll become ritually unclean from that touch, and unable to perform their sacred duties.  Besides, the road’s dangerous enuf without lingering on it.

No doubt Jesus shocked his audience by introducing as the 3d character not a Jewish layman but a Samaritan.  As you know, Jews and Samaritans hated each other.  And this Samaritan—evidently well-to-do because he’s got a donkey and some cash and is a frequent traveler on this road—stops to help, with no idea whom he’s helping, except that it’s a fellow human being in desperate need.  He gives 1st aid and transport and arranges for 1st-century hospitalization (such as it was), at some risk to himself, both obvious and less obvious.
The Good Samaritan (Rembrandt)
Then Jesus asks the scholar of the Law almost the same question the lawyer himself had asked:  which one proved to be a neighbor to the man in need (10:36)?  The lawyer practically chokes on his answer.  The Jews so despised Samaritans that he can’t even say the word, but only, “The one who treated him with mercy” (10:37).

Jesus’ final answer is, “Go and do likewise” (10:37).  This answers the lawyer’s original question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  That, of course, is the question for every one of us.  And Jesus’ answer for each of us is the same:  Do what the Samaritan did in the parable—treat every man, and woman and child, as your neighbor.  Have compassion, extend mercy, to everyone, including people you don’t know and people you don’t like—to anyone in need.

You remember the Pope’s answer to reporters during his press conference on his return flight from Mexico last February?  It’s not Christian to build a wall to prevent people from seeking refuge from violence or from economic desperation.  Refugees—whether they’re fleeing Central American violence or Syrian violence—are our neighbors.  Are we as a society prepared to “Go and do likewise”?
(The Southern Cross)
We hear often that we should stop providing foreign aid and take care of our own people 1st.  Yes, we should take care of our own people.  We should see that everyone in the U.S. has enuf to eat, has adequate health care, gets a good education and job training.  We should repair our racial tensions and prejudices, maintain our infrastructure, support clean energy and a healthy environment, and so on.

But taking care of our own 1st doesn’t excuse us from taking care of those in need in other parts of the world when we have more than sufficient means to do so.  The Samaritan traveler probably was not taking care of one of his own.

Now it’s true that Americans are among the most generous people in the world, if not the most generous, in responding to terrible natural disasters like the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004, Hurricane Katrina in 2005, or the Haitian earthquake in 2010.  It’s also a demonstrable fact that people of faith are much more generous in their charitable giving than secularists.  That needs to be acknowledged.  (Give yourself a pat on the back!)

But we have to ask whether we as the wealthiest nation in the world are doing enuf to care for the world’s 65 million refugees (not counting internally displaced persons), or the hundreds of millions whose income at home is under $2 a day, or the one billion people who lack clean, potable drinking water; enuf to end human trafficking; enuf to rescue children forced into dangerous employment in mines and factories, or coerced into taking up arms in various civil wars (as portrayed, e.g., in the 2006 film Blood Diamond).

U.S. foreign aid, even including military aid, is about 1% of the total federal budget.  Is that the best we can do for our neighbors in need?  As a country, are we afraid if our taxes were higher we couldn’t eat out as often, go to as many movies, buy as expensive a car, or go skiing in Colorado every winter?

There’s a kind of parallel between this parable and the one in Matt 25 about the Last Judgment, when the Great King welcomes into the heavenly kingdom all who fed the hungry, clothed the naked, welcomed strangers, visited the sick, etc., because in doing so they were treating him with mercy; and those who failed to do those acts of mercy toward the people in their lives—well, they were not welcomed into heaven but sent elsewhere.  Both parables tell us what we must do to inherit eternal life.

If you’re already doing as the Samaritan did in some fashion—none of us can rescue the entire world, of course—may God bless you with his peace, a joyful heart, and knowledge that you’re walking with Jesus on the path toward eternal life.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

Coming to Champaign


Coming to Champaign

Greetings from the Heartland, ye faithful few stalwart readers of From the Eastern Front!  Having been reassigned by the provincial, I arrived at Holy Cross Parish in Champaign, Ill., about 3:45 p.m. on Thursday, June 30, and have been receiving a warm welcome ever since.


About the parish, see http://www.holycrosscatholic.org/.  Fr. Dave Sajdak, the pastor and my younger confrere, told me there were lots of pictures there, but I couldn’t find any. There are probably a lot on the Facebook page, which I can’t access. When we got a couple of nice, sunny days late last week, I shot several dozen and put them up at Shutterfly.

I’ve still got a lot of settling in to do—not just trying to figure out where to put my books and camping gear, but also finding doctors; signing up for Medicaid; changing my driver’s license; registering to vote; and learning the SDB community administration, the workings of the parish, the names of the people, the local geography, etc.

They said it was flat out here, and it is.  They said there was a lot of corn out here, and there is (there was across most of Ohio and Indiana too), with a little bit of soybeans on the side.

Champaign itself is a small city, pop. about 84,000, with a small but lively downtown—it is a college town after all, and UI is a very large school, with about 44,000 students.  The streets are laid out mostly in a grid, are well shaded, have sidewalks, and are lined with many stately old homes, at least in our part of the city—which is just a couple of blocks west of downtown.  Two interstates pass thru (74 and 57), and 72 starts here, running west toward Springfield (the state capital, home of Abraham Lincoln).  There are big shopping malls on the north side of 74, and Fr. Dave and I were already out there to shop for bookcases for the assistant pastor’s office. I’m looking forward to their delivery this Tuesday.

Getting here was an adventure, shall we say?  I was supposed to leave N.R. on Tuesday morning, June 28, but wasn’t nearly ready. In my rush to clean out my room, apparently I overlooked my clock-radio and have been without Morning Edition as my day starts ever since. Copying my computer files (documents and esp. photos) to my laptop took much longer than I’d imagined it would, and I didn’t finish doing all that—besides the packing and loading the rental truck—till 10:15 p.m.  The truck was a Penske 12-footer, which I didn’t quite fill up with clothes (esp. lots of winter clothing), books, camping gear, CDs, and various files.
In the rectory driveway at Holy Cross before unloading.
7 of the cartons of books are for the community library
and one that's potentially for the parish.
My brother-in-law David was extremely gracious in leaving the door open and porch light on for my eventual arrival in Columbia, Md.  I left New Rochelle at 10:30 p.m., drove in rain all the way thru New Jersey, with a gazillion semis keeping me company all the way down to Maryland.  I made a couple of stops to catnap and one for coffee, and got to Columbia at 4:00 a.m.  Rita and David were dog-sitting, and as soon as I stepped out of the truck (still out on the street), the dog began barking.  So much for a quiet entrance!  David calmed her down and went back to bed (of course), and I went right to bed (of course), having been up 23 hours straight.

I got up at 9:00, and after Mass and breakfast David and I visited a little bit.  Rita had gone to work, so I didn’t see her at all, unfortunately.  I left on the next leg of my trip at 11:00, driving across the length of Maryland and into West Virginia, then north toward Pittsburgh and west again across the W.V. panhandle.  How many people get to drive thru “Almost Heaven” (the motto on W.V.’s license plates) twice in one day?  The mountains and occasional rivers were pretty, and it was a fine day for travel.  Again, I had lots and lots of trucks keeping me company, most of them traveling faster than I.
At a rest stop on the Ohio-Indiana border.
After 8 hours of driving and short stops, I reached Columbus, where I overnited with an old friend from my 4 years of theological studies and pastoral ministry there.

From Columbus it took 6 more hours to drive across the rest of Ohio and all of Indiana (I took a long lunch stop, tho), and 40 miles into Illinois.  I guess Central Time started at the Illinois border; I didn’t notice any sign.  The 1st town in Illinois is Danville, which, as a former New Rochellean, I’ve been reminded numerous times is the REAL home of Dick Van Dyke (who is now 90 years old).

I was introduced at the Friday and Saturday a.m. Masses, the Saturday vigil Mass, and 3 Sunday Masses, the last of which I celebrated (having concelebrated at the others).  Apparently I got a passing grade as celebrant and homilist.

On Saturday evening, July 2, I began to meet the local clergy.  Every Saturday the priests of the vicariate gather for dinner at one of the parishes.  There were about a dozen of us at this one, including us 3 SDBs.  There are 3 of us here right now:  Fr. Dave, Fr. Joe Santa Bibiana my predecessor (who will leave on the 14th), and me.  Fr. Bill Bucciferro, one of the Newman Center chaplains, left on Friday for his vacation.  The area priests seem to be a friendly bunch; those from out of town are looking after 2 churches in separate little farm towns.  (Our gathering last nite, July 9, took place in Tolono, one of those small towns out in the corn fields, about a dozen miles south on U.S. 45—the last parish in the Peoria Diocese, geographically.

We had a quiet 4th here after declining an invite from a parishioner to a family cookout; not really sure why we didn’t go.  There were a lot of firecrackers, etc., in the neighborhood, and somewhere or other there were some official fireworks that we didn’t see.

My last full week in N.R. involved 2 day-long trips to Orange, one to pack up the research library, and one to load it and its bookcases onto a rented truck and transport it all back to N.R., where it originated in the Don Bosco Multimedia Center in the 1980s.  Now it’s reposing at Salesian Missions.  That, in part, is why it took me so long to get my personal stuff packed up.  There were also several more farewell dinners:  two with my godson’s family and other old friends from Connecticut; one with the community; and one with some of the Troop 40 Scouters and parents.  As Shakespeare said, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”  Unlike Romeo and Juliet, I have no prospect of seeing these old friends again “on the morrow,” tho—God willing—eventually.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Homily for 14th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
14th Sunday of Ordinary Time
July 3, 2016
Gal 6: 14-18
Holy Cross, Champaign, Ill.

Your humble blogger has taken up his new pastoral assignment as assistant pastor of the Salesian parish of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross and director of the local Salesian community. Here’s the homily from his first Sunday Mass at the parish. I don't have photos and artwork moved to the office computer yet--so just text here.

“May I never boast except in the cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ, thru whom the world has been crucified to me and I to the world” (Gal 6: 14).
The Crucifixion (Giotto)
For 5 weeks we’ve been reading from St. Paul’s Letter to the Galatians.  The main theme of this letter is that God saves us thru the grace given to us by Jesus Christ and not by our perfect observance of the Law of Moses.  Hence Paul writes today, “Neither circumcision nor lack of circumcision means anything, but only a new creation” (6:15), i.e., whether one has been created anew by God’s grace.  Evangelical Christians call that being born again.

Paul continues with a blessing:  “Peace and mercy be to all who follow this rule and to the Israel of God” (6:16).  The rule that Paul means is the rule of grace, and the “Israel of God” he means is the new Israel gathered and redeemed by the passover sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

What is this grace that Paul refers to repeatedly?  The basic term means a freely given gift, something you don’t earn or deserve—a Christmas bonus (which many of you may have received); a gubernatorial pardon (which I hope none of you has needed); a “grace period” for a late car payment.  For us disciples of Jesus, grace is God’s gift of forgiveness, of mercy, of restoration to a healthy relationship with God.  Grace makes us God’s children, heirs along with Jesus of the kingdom of God.

How does God’s grace come to us?  Not thru anything we’ve done or can do.  As Paul insists over and over again in Galatians and other letters, it doesn’t come to us because we obey the Law—the 10 Commandments and all the other regulations of the Torah, including the rule of circumcision, by which Jewish males entered the covenant that God made with Abraham and his descendants.  No; God’s grace, his free gift of pardon for our sins, his call to enter a new covenant relationship with him, comes thru “the cross of OLJC.”  Jesus announced that new covenant at the Last Supper in words that we repeat at every celebration of the Eucharist:  “This is the new covenant in my blood, which is shed for you and for many.”

Paul’s saying this evening that the cross of Jesus is our only cause for boasting.  It’s thru the cross of Jesus—which means the entire passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus—that we’re saved, restored to a good relationship with God, made brothers and sisters of Christ and with him heirs of the heavenly kingdom.

Paul preached that the grace of God in Christ is available to every human being.  A couple of Sundays ago, we heard that in Christ there’s no distinction between Jew and Gentile, male and female, slave and free person (3:28).  All are made participants in the new Israel of God by Baptism and Eucharist, by sharing in the paschal mystery of Christ’s cross and resurrection.

That kind of preaching made enemies for Paul.  So he says, “I bear the marks of Jesus on my body” (6:17), meaning he’s been beaten and scourged and chained for preaching the Gospel.  One of the results of original sin is that we humans tend to want to make distinctions between us and them, to exclude certain other people whom we want to regard as inferior to ourselves.  So people fight wars over nationality, religion, and race; attempt to exterminate ethnic groups; enslave certain groups; or legislate against foreigners or different classes of people.  As individuals, we criticize others and gossip about them as if we were superior to them—a grave sin that Pope Francis speaks against over and over.

Such an attitude of exclusion, or of regarding oneself or one’s “group” as superior, is part of what Paul refers to today as “the world.”  His acceptance of the Gospel of JC has crucified him to the world, alienated him from the world, i.e., from the sinful tendencies and attitudes of the human race.  We could include among such attitudes—as Jesus does in some passages of the Gospels and Paul in parts of his letters—the love for power or pleasure or money.  It’s Paul who tells us that the love of money is the root of all evil (1 Tim 6:10) and also observes that those who make a god of their bellies—the pursuit of sensual pleasure—will end in shame and destruction (Phil 3:19).

On this weekend we proudly proclaim our American heritage; we boast of our freedoms and, I hope, of how much God has blessed our country.  We may at other times boast of our ethnic heritage—being Irish, German, Italian, Hispanic, African, etc.  We may feel inclined to boast of our education, our talents or accomplishments (like some politicians and businessmen), our wealth, our physical strength or beauty.  And we know in our hearts that none of that lasts.  In the light of eternity, there’s only one reason to boast:  that God, for his own reasons, has chosen to love us and demonstrated that love for us thru the death and resurrection of OLJC.  Like Pope Francis, we can say with grateful joy, we’re sinners whom God loves and forgives.  We respond to God’s love and mercy with gratitude for his gift of grace—a presidential pardon, as it were—a gratitude that appreciates also God’s gifts to everyone, a gratitude that leads us always to combat our sinful attitudes and behaviors and to live like sisters and brothers of Jesus.

“The grace of OLJC be with your spirit, brothers and sisters.  Amen.” (6:18).

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Homily for 13th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
13th Sunday of Ordinary Time
June 26, 2016
Luke 9: 51-62
Ursulines, Willow Dr., New Rochelle

“When the days for Jesus’ being taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined [lit.: “set his face”] to journey to Jerusalem” (Luke 9: 51).

Last week we read the passage in which Peter identifies Jesus as “the Christ of God” and Jesus makes his 1st prediction of his passion and resurrection.  Skipping over passages about the transfiguration, an exorcism, the 2d passion prediction, and  teaching about greatness in the kingdom of heaven, we come to today’s passage, which starts  anew section in Luke’s Gospel but is related to Jesus’ being “the Christ,” to his passion prediction, to his transfiguration, and to greatness in the kingdom.  That section recounts Jesus’ slow, resolute journey from Galilee to Jerusalem to “be taken up.”

Luke speaks of the days being fulfilled.  Underlying that language is idea of God’s plan.  St. John might have said that Jesus’ hour was approaching.  Implicit is Jesus’ willingness to fulfill what God has planned.

So Jesus sets out “resolutely” for Jerusalem and the destiny that he knows awaits him there.  His “resolution” contrasts with the fickleness and shortsightedness of his disciples, who repeatedly misunderstand his teaching, resist God’s plan, squabble among themselves.  The latest example of the apostles’ density comes when James and John, those 2 “sons of thunder” (Mark 3:17), suggest that the inhospitable Samaritan village should be incinerated like Sodom and Gomorrah.

So the little band heads toward Jerusalem.  We may think we’re talking about Jesus and the 12, but Luke tells us in ch. 8 that they were “accompanied” by “some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities.”  He names 3, including Mary Magdalene, but adds that there were many others.  No mention of additional male disciples, tho it’s reasonable to suppose there were some.  It’s the women, however, who will reveal their resolution by staying with Jesus all the way to Calvary.

Then Luke presents to us 3 instances of irresolution that contrast with Jesus’ steadfastness in going the way determined for him by his Father; in fact, they contrast even with the faithfulness of the 12, however fickle that may have been.

1st, a fellow offers to follow Jesus anywhere.  Jesus warns him of the rootlessness, you might say homelessness, of his followers—something more severe than we religious generally practice today.  We’re not told that the man said, “Forget it!”  Neither are we told that he joined the itinerants on their way to Jerusalem.

Next, Jesus calls a man who expresses a willingness to follow Jesus—but not yet.  His reply, “Let me bury my father,” doesn’t mean that Dad has just died and must be buried—which would have been that very day—but, “I’ll come with you after my father dies”—whenever that might be.  Jesus reminds him of the urgency of proclaiming the kingdom of God.  Again, we don’t know what the man’s final response was.

Finally, there’s the fellow who wants to say his good-byes (as I’ve been doing for 2 weeks, to the detriment of packing books, clothes, and office supplies).  This man’s answer sounds quite like Elisha’s, doesn’t it?  But Jesus’ answer contrasts with Elijah’s.  It implies that the man is reluctant—unlike Elisha, who resolutely leaves behind his previous career and livelihood.

So the gospel offers us the resolution of Jesus in doing what his Father asks, versus the irresolution of other people.  It calls upon us as followers of Jesus to be steadfast in going where he calls us to go—not just from one house to another, but even leaving behind attitudes like the harshness of James and John.  He calls us, in the words of the Collect, to be “children of light,” not of thunder; to let God unwrap us from our darkness, our sins, our self-centered attitudes—no “selfies” allowed in Jesus’ camp!  Jesus calls us to be focused totally on the kingdom of God:  “You are my inheritance, O Lord” (Responsorial Psalm).  Jesus calls us each day to renew our resolution to come along with him on his journey to Jerusalem—the city of his passion, the city of his glorification.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Homily for 12th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
12th Sunday of Ordinary Time
June 19, 2016
Zech 12: 10-11; 13: 1
Iona College, New Rochelle, N.Y.

“I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and petition; and they shall look on him whom they have pierced” (Zech 12: 10).

The prophetic reading this evening was chosen, obviously, to go with Jesus’ prediction of his passion and death in the gospel reading—the 1st of 3 such predictions (Luke 9:18-24).  Luke’s version of the story is straightforward—no reference to a blessing of Peter nor of the gift to him of the keys to the kingdom of heaven nor of Peter’s attempt to deny Jesus the fate inherent in being “the Christ of God.”

You know that Christ is the Greek translation of Messiah, and those words mean “Anointed One.”

It’s puzzling that Jesus “rebuked” the apostles for identifying him as the Messiah; but he doesn’t deny it.  Rather, he “directed them not to tell this to anyone” (9:21).  And he uses another name for himself, “Son of Man,” as he forecasts the destiny that will be his.

Undoubtedly, the Jewish population, Jesus’ disciples included, had a misunderstanding of what role “the Christ of God” was to play; what sort of redemption he’d come to bring them.  Hence Jesus’ hushing them up and his telling them what lay before him.

Not only him.  You think you’re going to follow me to royal power, to throwing out the Romans and governing Israel like King David?  Well, here’s some news for you:  “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (9:23).  Not only are they going to kill me, but you too will share in my cross if you follow me!  Only if you lose your life alongside me will you truly save it.  You can’t avoid my cross for even a single day!

The prophet Zechariah speaks of someone who suffers and then becomes a font of blessing.  In his account of the crucifixion and death of Jesus, you remember, St. John quotes this passage from Zechariah in relation to the coup de grace that a Roman soldier delivered to Jesus’ body hanging on the cross:  “one of the soldiers thrust his lance into his side, and immediately blood and water flowed out” (19:34).

(source unknown)
Zechariah says also that this person who’s been pierced thru will be mourned “as one mourns for an only son,” grieved “over as one grieves over a firstborn” (12:10).  We catch the allusion immediately to God’s Only-begotten Son, mourned by his disciples at his crucifixion and in the following days, right up till the women found his tomb empty on Sunday morning.  We catch the allusion to Jesus, the firstborn son of Mary, who—in John’s passion account—stood heroically beneath her Son’s cross and became then the mother of all Jesus’ brothers and sisters; he was her firstborn, and she’s carried millions since in her motherly heart.

The 3d reference to mourning in the prophecy (12:11) seems to be an allusion to the holy king Josiah, who reformed the religious life of the kingdom of Judah at the end of the 7th c. BC.  Josiah was a descendant of King David and as a king was a messiah, one anointed by God, and since he instituted religious reform he was also a redeemer of sorts.  But he died in battle at Megiddo, certainly a cause of national mourning.  He was succeeded by unworthy sons, and Jerusalem was captured 12 years later by the Babylonians and made a vassal state; and ten years later still, the city was leveled by the Babylonians—more cause for national mourning.  The psalmist lamented, “By the streams of Babylon we sat and wept, remembering Jerusalem” (cf. 137:1).

But after the mourning over the sufferings and death of the Son of Man, after his being raised on the 3d day, we see what happened to him in a different light.  No longer do we mourn for him or grieve over him—for from the pierced side of Jesus the Lord God has “poured out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem,” and indeed on the entire human race, “a spirit of grace and petition”; “on that day there shall be open to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem a fountain to purify from sin and uncleanness” (Zech 13:1).

The traditional sacramental theology of the Church sees in the outpouring of blood and water from the side of Jesus—whatever the physiological facts of that “water” may be—symbols of Baptism and the Eucharist.  In these sacraments we receive “a spirit of grace” indeed, that grace which makes us God’s children; that grace which is a fountain of mercy purifying us “from sin and uncleanness.”  Because these sacraments tie us to Christ, we are saved:  “all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ,” St. Paul writes today (Gal 3:27), and we’ve become heirs of God’s kingdom (3:29), together with Jesus—regardless of our human status, regardless of how the world rates us or ranks us:  we’re all equally “children of God in Christ Jesus” (3:26), made so by the outpouring of God’s Spirit on us in the sacraments, the font of mercy opened up to us from the pierced heart of Christ, who loves us without measure.

Summer Retreats Begin

Summer Retreats Begin

The first of the province’s annual summer retreats took place at the Don Bosco Retreat Center in Haverstraw, N.Y., from June 5 to 11 with some 45 confreres taking part, a healthy mix of brothers and priests. They came from almost the full length and breadth of the province, from Surrey to Belle Glade, from Boston to Marrero (“almost” because we didn’t stretch as far northeast as we might have—Sherbrooke wasn’t represented).

Bro. Tom Dion, the province’s delegate for formation, coordinated the week; it was the first time he’d done so, and he admitted to finding the task much more challenging than he’d anticipated. But the retreatants found that he did his task well.

Bro. Tom Dion, Sr. Lory Mazzei, and Sr. Clara Remartini. 
This retreat was unusual (not unique, if my memory’s correct) as SDB retreats go in that it was preached by two religious sisters, in this case members of the Apostles of the Interior Life. This is a small (16 members), new congregation founded in 1990 to promote the spiritual life, especially through mentoring (direction). They do so in the U.S. and Italy principally on college campuses (Kansas University and Texas A&M, and at one time the University of Illinois in Champaign) and in a multi-week program in spiritual mentoring in the Kansas City, Kan., Archdiocese that Bro. Tom is taking—which is how the Apostles came to be invited to preach our retreat.

Preaching a week-long retreat to priests and religious was a first-time experience for the apostles. But our two preachers, Sister Loredana and Sister Clara—who were asked by their superior about their availability—eagerly accepted, not only because they know Bro. Tom but also because both of them have Salesian connections in their native Italy.

Fr. Dennis Hartigan presiding at one of the Eucharistic celebrations.
The two sisters tag-teamed the daily conferences, using their written texts, music, video, and of course their own experience and wisdom. They spoke of what Pope Francis has called the four pillars of the spiritual life for priests and seminarians: prayer, community, intellectual study, and the apostolate. They illustrated these pillars in the life of a 20th-century priest, Blessed Carlo Gnocchi, and they pointed to the Virgin Mary as a model for us in her faith, her joy, her obedience, etc. In their last two conferences, they presented an “instrument” to help the confreres apply what we’d heard to our own lives and invited us to “share” in small groups what we’d found valuable in our week’s experience. Sisters Lory and Clara deeply impressed the retreatants with their presentations, friendliness, and joy.

In addition to the sister’s fine conferences, the retreat featured the usual SDB camaraderie, the customary pilgrimage to the province cemetery at Goshen (the only day it rained, of course), Good Nights that updated the confreres on the local reshaping taking place in Ramsey, Port Chester, and Orange, and some in-depth commentary about province matters from Fr. Tim Zak.

Praying for our deceased confreres in the cemetery at Goshen.
Bro. Henry Van der Velden enjoying an ice cream cone after the cemetery visit.

Conviviality and fellowship at the dinner table.

Saturday, June 18, 2016

"Tweet Me in St. Louis"


“Tweet Me in St. Louis”

Catholic Communicators Hold Annual Conference in the Gateway City

2016 CMC’s program features the Old Cathedral
of St. Louis at the foot of the Gateway Arch.
(Catholic Press Assn.)
Approximately 350 Catholic journalists, editors, directors of communications, broadcasters, financial and advertising officers, vendors, and speakers converged on the Hilton St. Louis at the Ballpark from May 31 to June 3 to upgrade various skills, hear inspiring messages about their ministry, gather information, network with each other, and have a good time at the 2016 Catholic Media Conference.

The CMC’s planning committee couldn’t resist promoting the convention with the wordplay at the head of this story.

I, of course, had to shoot the cathedral and Arch from ground level!
The CMC is the annual joint meeting of the Catholic Press Association of the U.S. and Canada and the Catholic Academy of Communications Professionals. This year’s conference took place in the shadow of St. Louis’s famed Gateway Arch, a block from Busch Stadium (hence the hotel’s name) in one direction and, in the other direction, from the Old County Courthouse where the Dred Scott case was heard in 1846, and two blocks from the archdiocese’s Old Cathedral of St. Louis.

So close to the ballpark, the hotel had vintage photos of the Cardinals all over the main floor (unfortunately lacking IDs), and this collection honoring the Cardinal of all Cardinals:

Not sure why that's right over the entrance to the bar; maybe that's where it gets seen by more people than anywhere else! (For non-baseball fans: it's Stan Musial.)

I stayed, instead, at the Missouri Athletic Club--very nice hotel in addition to club facilities (which I didn't have time to use)--about 7 blocks from the Hilton. That gave me at least 2 short walks every day, right down one of St. Louis's main drags, Broadway: past the Federal Reserve Bank, various businesses (very few eateries tho), and the Old Courthouse, with terrific views of the Arch from about 3 blocks away. This shot, however, comes from a long block farther away. The construction site (which was across the street from the convention hotel) is a public park being redone; beyond it are the Old Courthouse and the Arch.


The Salesians were represented by your humble blogger, editor of E-Service (a member organization of the CPA) and Hannah Gregory of Salesian Missions/MissionNewswire.org (also a CPA member). Although we’ve worked together online for more than six years, especially during the Haiti earthquake crisis in January 2010, this was the first time that Hannah and I actually met each other.

Hannah Gregory at the Salesian Missions booth.
As is customary with the CMC, the night before the official opening was a social event, in this case an outing to the City Museum,

a slightly weird and definitely eclectic collection of St. Louis architecture, archeology, arcana, and nostalgia that also functions as a huge indoor and outdoor playground for young people—which evidently also includes Catholic journalists! It was fun to see so many of them in a second childhood.

Catholic journalists at work?



Architectural remnants inside the museum.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
More seriously, the first full day of the CMC (Wednesday, June 1) offered a series of day-long “master camps” for writers, editors, advertising personnel, designers, communications officers, and reporters. I took part in one titled “Parables, Profiles and Facebook Posts: The Infallible Truths of Effective Writing.”


The “master camp” on more effective writing.
Days 2-3 (June 2-3) presented numerous educational sessions that covered writing, editing, photography, film, design, audience-targeting, media literacy, marketing, podcasting and other platforms, budgeting, archiving, staying Catholic, and more. There were also business meetings of the CPA and Catholic Academy members and roundtable discussions for communicators, editors, advertisers, and regional groups (someone suggested that I claim “dual citizenship” in both East and Midwest regions; I went to the Midwest Region and met up with Tom Dermody, editor the Catholic Post of the Peoria Diocese, which will be my new home).

Hannah Gregory manned a booth for Salesian Missions and worked hard to attract followers for MissionNewswire. Other booths were set up by such diverse organizations as the Knights of Columbus, EWTN and other media, the St. Vincent de Paul Society, Catholic News Service, and various tourism agencies.

The main speakers of the conference were Michael O’Neill, “the Miracle Hunter” and a Mariologist, who spoke particularly about Marian devotion and apparitions; Bishop Christopher Coyne of Burlington, Vt., chairman of the USCCB Committee on Communications and one of the first blogging bishops, who updated principles of Catholic media practice that he first laid out in an earlier CMC address (Indianapolis, 2012); and Sr. Helena Burns, FSP, who spoke about responsible use of social media.

Michael O’Neill commenting on the development of devotion
to the Virgin Mary at Wednesday’s luncheon.

Bishop Chris Coyne of Burlington, Vt.
“Bishop Coyne urged the journalists and communication leaders to follow the example of St. Therese of Lisieux, who saw every task as a chance to make the love of God more concrete. With this in mind, he said every news story, video, blog post, tweet, email or response to an online comment can ‘become an opportunity to manifest God’s love.’” (Carol Zimmermann, CNS)

Sr. Helena, a movie reviewer, filmmaker, speaker on media literacy and theology of the body, urged three places where Smartphones should never be used: Mass, meals, and the master bedroom. Pay attention to the people in front of you! Be master (or mistress) of your social media and not their slave.
Sr. Helena Burns summarized
her PowerPoint talk this way.
 

Each full day of the CMC included celebration of the Eucharist, twice at old St. Louis Cathedral (1834) and once at the new (1914) cathedral celebrated by Archbishop Robert Carlson. After the latter, a docent explained the magnificent Byzantine-style mosaics, and the attendees had time to explore the nave and side chapels. In addition, a prayer room was available for about ten hours daily in the hotel meeting area.

The “new” St. Louis Cathedral.
 

 
On June 2, the CPA’s Bishop John England Award for the defense of religious freedom was presented to Greg Erlandson, former president and publisher of Our Sunday Visitor and now a consultor with the Pontifical Council for Social Communications. The award citation noted: “In its editorial positions, [OSV] publications have taken measured and balanced positions in favor of the rights of the church, its institutions and every American, Catholic and non-Catholic, to act according to closely-held beliefs in God and what is right without impinging upon the rights of others to act in a free society.”

On June 3, the CPA’s “top prize,” the St. Francis de Sales Award for outstanding contributions to Catholic journalism, was given to freelance journalist Maria de Lourdes Ruiz Scaperlanda “for her dedication to Catholic media for more than 30 years, and for telling the human side of many of the tough social and political issues facing our state, Church and nation.”

Maria Scaperlanda with her “Frannie.”
An honorary “Frannie” was also presented via Skype to Archbishop Claudio Celli, president of the Pontifical Council for Social Communications, who usually attends the CMC in person, for his long-standing support for Catholic journalism and all forms of communications.

The Catholic Academy presented its President’s Medallion posthumously to Mother Angelica Rizzo in recognition of her lifetime of spreading the Gospel through the media, relying completely upon Divine Providence for the means of doing so.

The 2016 CMC concluded on Friday evening with the CPA’s awards banquet, recognizing the members’ and member organizations’ outstanding work in the last year in newspapers: reporting, editorial writing, opinion writing, artwork, design, advertising, general excellence, etc.; and in books: fiction, non-fiction, theology, spirituality, Scripture, ministry, family life, etc.

Next year’s CMC will be held at Laval University in Quebec, June 21-23, in partial conjunction with the SIGNIS World Congress (June 18-21).

Homily for 10th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
10th Sunday of Ordinary Time
June 5, 2016
Ps 30
St. Vincent’s Hospital, Harrison, N.Y.

I'm really late posting this because I went on retreat on the 5th, and after coming back have been up to my ears in work--and packing.

“O Lord, you brought me up from the nether world; you preserved me from among those going down into the pit” (Ps 30: 4).

(source unknown)
Our 1st reading this morning tells how Elijah revived an apparently dead little boy, and the gospel records how Jesus revived a young man being carried out for burial.  Between these 2 Scripture passages, the psalmist praises God for saving his life from his enemies:  the Lord has saved him “from the nether world,” from hades, from the underworld, the place where the dead go; in old English, this was translated as hell, with this meaning, and not meaning the place of eternal damnation.  Hence, Christ at death “descended into hell,” the Apostles’ Creed says.  In classic Hebrew poetic style, the psalmist continues with a parallel phrase, “You preserved me from among those going down into the pit,” i.e., into the grave.

Both the 1st reading and the gospel, and the responsorial psalm too, are meant to foreshadow our ultimate delivery from the grave, from the nether world of the dead—the resurrection of God’s faithful people on the Last Day and our eternal welcome into the Father’s home, that “place” or state that we call heaven.  As Jesus raised the dead son of the widow at Nain, so will he raise us—not to die a natural death again, as did the son of the widow at Zarephath and the young man of Nain, but to live forever in perfect health and perfect happiness, by the grace of God.

But you all know that we use this kind of language also metaphorically:  “such and such an experience was the pits,” or in humorist Erma Bombeck’s memorable book title, If Life Is a Bowl of Cherries, Why Am I Always in the Pits?  In stronger language, we might refer to some awful experience as “hell”:  the boss from hell, a marriage that’s hell, a travel experience that was hell (I spent 12 hours yesterday flying and not flying between St. Louis and N.Y., but I wouldn’t call it “hell.”), and of course Gen. Sherman’s class description, “War is hell.”

There are times when we feel very far from God and when we feel that our lives are in some kind of deep pit.  It’s so common these days that suicide rates are rising horrendously.  I dare say that that’s in part because our society has put God so far out of our lives—not you, or you probably wouldn’t be here this morning, but Western society in general.

So what can we do when we feel that God has abandoned us somehow, or perhaps that we’ve abandoned God thru our sins and fear that he won’t take us back?  We can take courage in the example of Jesus, who cried out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”  He knows how we feel because he’s been there.

We can do what the widow at Zarephath did and blame God—she did this indirectly, blaming the prophet:  “Why have you done this to me, O man of God?”  But she was also appealing to him.  Call that a prayer, if you will.  And Elijah responded.  The widow at Nain didn’t even have to ask Jesus for help.  But we can, and we must, turn to God when we’re in the pits, when life seems desperate.  We can remember, as did the psalmist, that difficult times are temporary:  “his anger lasts but a moment; a lifetime, his good will.  At nightfall, weeping enters, but with the dawn, rejoicing.”  Everybody’s life has darkness, even Jesus’ life; but we also know that Christ is the light of the world and he remains with us.  And, like the psalmist, we implore:  “Hear, O Lord, and have pity on me; O Lord, be my helper.”

Another thing we can do is try to spend time with God.  When St. Paul’s life was turned upside down by Jesus’ appearance to him on the road to Damascus, he “went into Arabia,” into the desert, for quite some time to reflect upon his life and what had happened to him.  We need to spend time with God in prayer—all of us, regularly, not just in times of crisis.

Finally, we remember always, “God has visited his people,” as the folks in Nain exclaimed after Jesus revived the young man.  God has visited the human race in the person of Jesus, and Jesus remains with us, accompanies us, leads us toward eternal life and eternal joy.  We let him guide us, do our best to stay by his side.  He gives us hope.