Father Robert T. Cooper

November 17, 2019

           Jesus told us in St. Matthew’s Gospel that when He comes at the end of time to judge the living and the dead, He will separate us into two groups. On his right, He will place those who are saved. On his left He will place those who are condemned. To those on His right, He will say: “Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” He told us that the stunned crowd of eternal victors will then ask when did any of us do these good deeds personally for Him, and He promised He would respond “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of my brothers and sisters, you did it to me” (Mt 25:34-40).

          The work of our St. Anthony Ministry to the Needy is an opportunity to take care of Christ in disguise in all these ways and more. Donations to this important ministry funds our food pantry and aid to those who need monetary assistance with basic household expenses.  As Catholics, we all have the duty to care for Christ in the least of our brothers and sisters, and the Lord tells us that we will be judged on whether we have loved Him or stiffed Him in the person of our neighbor. There are many ways to carry out that duty to be modern Good Samaritans. While we can always give generously and directly to a particular charity, there is something important about giving to our parish’s St. Anthony Ministry to the Needy.

          Pope Emeritus Benedict wrote, “Love of neighbor, grounded in the love of God, is first and foremost a responsibility for each individual member of the faithful, but it is also a responsibility for the entire ecclesial community at every level: from the local community to the particular Church and to the Church universal in its entirety. As a community, the Church must practice love.” The “particular Church” of Divine Mercy Parish, as a community, needs to practice love. This is one of the most important signs of our ecclesial character, when we work together as disciples to give of ourselves for those for whom others so often fail to sacrifice or care. In the early Church, Christians were so distinguished by their love for those in need that even pagan leaders, while they were threatening to put Christians to death for the faith, were deeply fascinated by Christians’ love for those who did not or could not love them in return.

           Tangible deeds of self-sacrificial love are one of the most important components of the Church’s re-evangelization efforts. In an age when many are questioning the goodness of the Church after the clergy scandals, there is an even greater need to show the real self-giving face of the Church as a whole. This true image of the Church is of a mystical body working together to love Christ in others: when the multitudes of Catholic faithful through their sacrifices and prayers cooperate with those on the front lines of pastoral care to be the Good Samaritan to so many who are in need. This is the way all of us at Divine Mercy Parish can proclaim by our body language the Gospel Christ entrusted to us. It is also the way by which, God-willing, our whole parish family may reconvene in the Church triumphant at Christ’s glorious right side.

November 10, 2019

           One of the least commented upon sections of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI’s first encyclical on God’s love deals with the Church and politics. In an era in which the Church in various countries is getting accused of tampering in the political order, however, this section may prove over time to be among the most valuable. But one thing is beyond debate: in the over one-hundred-year history of the Church’s formal social teaching—from Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum 1891 to John Paul II’s Centesimus Annus a century later—Benedict’s exposition of the relationship between Church and State is undoubtedly the clearest and most concise.

          Those who have not yet read Deus Caritas Est might wonder how a political treatise fits into an encyclical on the love of God for us and our love for God and others. The context was Benedict’s surgical enucleation of the defects of Marxism. Marx had criticized the practice of Christian charity for retarding the pursuit of justice for the poor by soothing the consciences of the rich and preserving the social status quo. The real way to help the poor, he and his followers taught, was to eliminate charity and make the poor so miserable that they would have no alternative other than to rise up in revolution and overturn the social order. This, the former pontiff declares, was “an inhuman philosophy” that sacrificed people today to the “moloch” of a putative better tomorrow. The real way to make the world more human, Benedict retorts, is not “by refusing to act humanely here and now [but] by personally doing good now.” Rather than decelerating the pursuit of justice, charity expedites it.

          While, happily, there are few card-carrying Marxists today (although that seems to be changing in recent years in Washington, D.C.), there are still many who think that the Church’s charitable endeavors get in the way of real social improvement. The inexorable progress of the modern social welfare state would triumph, they assert, if the Church were out of the picture. At best, the Church’s activities are superfluous and inefficient; at worst, the Church, and her teachings, are regressive and harmful. These are the critics to whom Benedict responds with his tractate the Church and the state, on charity and justice. The holy father says that the pursuit of justice is the “fundamental norm of the State,” and the “aim and the intrinsic criterion of all politics.” This is a very high and positive view of politics and government. Politics must be more than “a mere mechanism for defining the rules of public life” or the means to allow political victors to divide public spoils. It must seek to “guarantee to each person, according to the principle of subsidiarity, his share of the community’s goods.”

           Benedict says that it is not the Church’s responsibility to wage a “political battle to bring about the most just society possible.” Yet, he adds, “at the same time she cannot and must not remain on the sidelines in the fight for justice.” As an institution, the Church’s involvement in the pursuit of justice is indirect: it seeks to give ethical guidance about the authentic requirements of justice and “reawaken the spiritual energy without which justice, which always demands sacrifice, cannot prevail and prosper.” The institutional Church’s duty is to purify and liberate human reason from the ethical blind spots that can arise from “the dazzling effects of power and special interest,” and to help “reason become ever more fully itself.”

              While the Church as an institution has merely an indirect role in bringing about a just ordering of society, the lay faithful, as citizens of the State, have a direct obligation. Benedict states that the mission of the lay faithful is to strive to configure social life correctly according to the principles of justice. This ardent lay political participation is an act of “social charity;” it is a genuine expression of the love of neighbor. For Catholic lay citizens, therefore, not to get involved in the political pursuit to bring about the most just society possible would be a lack of love.

               The clarity of this Benedictine distinction between the indirect involvement of the institutional church and the direct participation of Catholic lay faithful in achieving a just social order could not be timelier. For far too long in our nation—perhaps due to the cancer of a clericalism abetted both by clergy and laity—the visible faces of the institutional church,  bishops and priests, have been too directly involved in the political nitty-gritty, and the lay faithful have not been involved enough. That is changing, as more lay faithful are taking the political lead on issues of social justice and more clergy are seeing that their principle duty, and largest impact, is found in the courageous formation of all citizens in the truth of the dignity of the human person. Benedict’s encyclical provides the “spiritual energy” to continue in this needed direction, which, God-willing, will yield great fruit.

November 3, 2019

           In his encyclical Deus Caritas Est, after describing who God is and who we are, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI turns to what the Church is. The Church, he says, is “God’s family in the world.” Jesus Christ came from heaven to earth to found a family, and, as He said in the Gospel, “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother” (Mk 3:35). Doing God’s will, love, and family all go together, Benedict teaches, because obedience is not indentured compliance to something imposed on us from the outside, but a simple response of love to God who loved us first. When we love God, we love what He loves. We begin to want what He wants and reject what He rejects. With great satisfaction, we begin to say, “thy will be done!”

          This image of the Church as a family united in a communion of love, all seeking to do God’s will, is one of the richest ecclesiological images that can be proposed. The Church is not a society of independent thinkers, all with equally valuable opinions. It is not a Sunday social club where strangers convene to listen to self-help lectures and sing uplifting musical solos in juxtaposed pews. It is a family with an almighty Father in Heaven, a Nazarene mother, a first-born son who is clearly the favorite, and brothers and sisters from every race, nation, and tongue. The health and strength of this family depends on their union in doing the Father’s will and their communion in love. 

          In the early Church, this union in will and communion of love were obvious. Pope Benedict references the passage in the Acts of the Apostles in which St. Luke provides a kind of “definition of the Church:” “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teachings and communion, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. All who believed were together and had all things in common” (Acts 2:44-45). The first Christians sought the will of the Father through prayer and through the teaching of the “father figures” God had given them in the apostles, and they grew in mutual love through the celebration of the Eucharist and the sharing of all their goods with those in need. Like a family, they knew that they were “in it together,” and acted accordingly. And imitating their Father’s love, their own was overflowing. They knew that God’s family was meant to include all those their Father created, and so they turned their love toward others.

            Pope Benedict said that this love manifested itself in three essential ways: the proclamation of the word of God, in speech (kerygma) and deeds, (martyria); the public worship of God through the celebration of Mass and the sacraments (leitourgia); and the exercise of the ministry of charity (diakonia). The gift of the revelation of God’s love is the first act of charity; helping others to reciprocate God’s love by joint adoration is the second; and moving them to love and serve others as God has loved and served them is the third. For the Church to express her deepest nature, she must put all three into practice. “The Church cannot neglect the service of charity,” Benedict writes, “any more than she can neglect the sacraments and the Word.”

             Pope Benedict says that this three-fold love of neighbor, grounded in the love of God, “is first and foremost a responsibility for each individual member of the faithful, but it is also a responsibility for the entire ecclesial community at every level: from the local community to the particular Church and to the Church universal in its entirety.” In other words, each disciple, each parish, and each Diocese must focus on the love for others that is meant to animate each of these three areas. Just as the Church as a whole cannot neglect any of them, neither can a disciple, a parish, or a diocese.

          Pope Benedict, quoting St. Paul, gives us the motivation to redouble our personal and ecclesial efforts to the encounter with Christ in His word, in the sacraments, and in others: “The love of Christ urges us on.” Christ loved us so much that He came to announce to us the Good News of the Kingdom, to institute the sacraments for our salvation and sanctification, and to serve others in love rather than be served. He says to each of us, to our parish family, and to our archdiocese, “Love one another as I have loved you.”

October 27, 2019

           In his first encyclical, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI takes us to the “heart of the Christian faith” and presents us with a “summary of the Christian life.” He described who God is, who we are, and who we are called to become: God is love, we are made in the image and likeness of that love, and our vocation is to love others as God has loved us. Benedict notes that in order for us to understand God, ourselves, and morality, we first must grasp accurately what real love is. That is a problem, he says, because love is one of the most used and misused words in our lexicon. The Greeks had four words for love: storge, the deep affection we have for family members and familiar things; philia, the deep bond between friends based on a common interest; eros, the passionate desire for self-completion, most normally shown in the desire for union with a person of the opposite sex; and agape, the unselfish willingness to sacrifice oneself for the sake of another. Benedict says that love is a single reality with these diverse dimensions that emerge at different times. But he also states that if we misunderstand one of these expressions, it can distort our notion of love, God, and ourselves as a whole.

            That distortion, he says, has happened because of a misunderstanding of what most consider the “epitome” of love, eros. God gave us the capacity for erotic love to draw us out of ourselves into communion with others, but sometimes this innate drive can turn “warped and destructive,” and lead us to use others selfishly for our own pleasure and satisfaction. This “counterfeit” form of erotic love strips it of its dignity and dehumanizes it, as it strips loved ones of their dignity and dehumanizes them. For eros to lead us to true happiness, it first needs to be healed through discipline and purification by agape. This path becomes an “ongoing exodus out of the closed inward-looking self towards its liberation through self-giving, and thus towards authentic self-discovery and indeed the discovery of God.”

             The Moses leading us on that exodus is Christ, who Benedict says enfleshes the true bond between passionate and selfless love. The first icon of that bond between eros and agape is Christ’s passion, in which the Lord shows the depth of his desire for union with those he loves by unselfishly “turning against Himself” and laying down His life to save their lives. The second image is the Eucharist, which Christ “earnestly desired” to eat with His disciples and left us as the means by which we can enter into His act of self-oblation. The Eucharist is the consummation of the long-prophesied marriage between God and His people, when Christ’s bride takes within herself the flesh and blood of the divine bridegroom and they become one flesh. It is in the Eucharist that man and woman receive agape and eros in their most divine and divinizing way. It is in the Eucharist that they are strengthened and moved to share that passionate, selfless love toward others, where they learn how to say, “this is my body… given for you” and to love others as Christ has loved them. It is in the Eucharist that the words “God is love and he who abides in love abides in God and God in him” become flesh.

            Rather than stifling eros, Christ and the way of love He indicates ennobles it and restores it to its true grandeur. The relevance of Benedict’s theological and philosophical reflections on the importance of appropriately understanding eros in order to grasp accurately who God is, who we are, and how we are called to live must be at the foundation of our walk of discipleship.

October 20, 2019

           The Second Vatican Council had a dramatic impact both within the Church and in the way the Church related to persons outside of it. Internally, the Council fathers called for a more conscious and active participation of the laity not only in the liturgy, but in the life and mission of the Church. In a succession of documents, they clearly called all Catholics to holiness, to the assimilation and proclamation of the Word of God, and to total self-discovery in imitation of the self-giving love of Christ, who fully reveals man to himself and makes his supreme calling clear. They summoned bishops, priests, religious, and laity, each according to their state of life, to follow Christ’s priestly, prophetic, and kingly example in the concrete circumstances of their daily lives. They deeply enriched the understanding of the Church as a communion, calling the people of God to become, with God’s help, a sacrament of salvation—an efficacious sign of Christ’s saving work in the midst of the world.

            Outside the Church, the Council fathers made dramatic and bold overtures, flowing from the Church’s faith, toward all people of goodwill. They invited the world to enter into dialogue with the Church for the common good. They launched a new push toward the restoration of unity among all the disciples of Jesus Christ. They praised the Jewish people as the people of the Covenant to whom God will always remain faithful. They lauded the seeds of the Word that can be found in other religions and affirmed that the Church accepts whatever is good and true in the cultures based on them. They called on all to respect the right to religious freedom, which is based on the dignity of the human person and the inviolability of his conscience. They even charted the path for the proclamation of the Gospel in the new and ever improving means of social communications media. Despite these achievements, however, the hopes engendered by the Council have gone largely unfulfilled. When St. Pope John XXIII convoked Vatican II, the stated aim was to bring about a new birth in the Church’s life and mission. He wanted the Council to be a “dawn” which would be “a forerunner of most splendid light.”

            The fact that these expectations were not met can be seen empirically. Despite the liturgical reforms, Catholic participation in all seven sacraments is dramatically down. The Council called for a deeper penetration of Sacred Scripture, but ninety-seven percent of practicing Catholics admit, according to a recent study, that the only Scripture they encounter each week is at Sunday Mass. The efforts to proclaim the Gospel in a new idiom to the modern world have been shouted down by an increasingly militant and imposing secularism. The universal call to holiness has been rejected by many Catholics who, without blushing, have flaunted the teachings of the Church on sexual morality while still deeming themselves Catholics in good standing. The greatest statistical documentation of the failed hopes of the Council can be seen in “Christian Europe,” where the birth rate among Christians is below replacement level and one out of every three babies is now Muslim.

              The reason why the high hopes of the Council have been met with such negative results is not because the Council has failed. It is because, for the most part, the Council has not yet been tried and implemented. In the days after the Council, as Pope Emeritus Benedict said in an interview, “the impression increasingly gained hold that reform consisted in simply jettisoning ballast, in making it easier for ourselves. Reform thus seemed really to consist, not in a deeper rooting of the faith, but in any kind of dilution of the faith.” People viewed the Council not as a call to greater discipleship, not as a means to “deny yourself, pick up your Cross and follow” Christ, but to affirm oneself, throw away the Cross, and go about, more or less, as one pleased.

              Pope Emeritus Benedict began his pontificate by saying, “As I start in the service that is proper to the Successor of Peter, I wish to affirm with force my decided will to pursue the commitment to enact Vatican Council II, in the wake of my predecessors and in faithful continuity with the millennia-old tradition of the Church. With the passing of time, the conciliar documents have not lost their timeliness; their teachings have shown themselves to be especially pertinent to the new exigencies of the Church and the present globalized society.” The first step in enacting the Council would be to read again—or for the first time—the pertinent and timeless conciliar documents, which are the Council’s true treasure.

October 13, 2019

          We have known the Rosary since we were children and still use it today. It is uniquely and identifiably Catholic. All who pray it are drawn closer into the heart of the Church. It is a prayer guided by Our Lady and at the same time focused on the mysteries in the life of her Son, Jesus. It leads us deeper into the words of Scripture while it also captures the essence of our Catholic Tradition. It is at the same time contemplative, suited well for prayer on one’s own, and communal, effective in the family and the parish.

          We must regard the Rosary as a singular gift, which teaches us how to pray. The Church existed for many centuries before the Rosary became a part of our tradition. We thank God for this way of prayer and devotion which has nourished the Church for almost eight centuries through good times and bad. In May 2008, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI said that the Rosary was “not a pious practice banished to the past, like prayers of other times thought of with nostalgia. Instead, the Rosary is experiencing a new springtime. Without a doubt, this is one of the most eloquent signs of love that the young generations nourish for Jesus and His Mother, Mary.”

          There are many forms of prayer in the Church – the most perfect form being the communal celebration of the Eucharist. Joined closely to the Eucharist are the Divine Office, which sanctifies the hours of each day, and Eucharistic Adoration, which extends from the celebration of the Mass itself. Beyond the liturgical prayer, the Rosary has a special place for Catholics. Let me share with you why I believe the Rosary is not only an important devotion in itself, but in fact teaches us how we are truly to pray.

           First, each decade of the Rosary is introduced by an “Our Father” and then continued with ten “Hail Marys.” I would encourage you when you pray each decade to view the “Hail Marys” not as something separate but as a continuation and extension of the Lord’s Prayer. When the disciples asked Jesus to “teach us to pray,” Jesus gave them the “Our Father.” To pray our Lord’s Prayer is to be a disciple. The greatest of the disciples was His Mother, who was with the disciples in the Upper Room, in the days before Pentecost, “constantly devoting themselves to prayer” (Acts 1:14).We can imagine that with Mary the disciples prayed as Jesus taught them. This is what we do in the Rosary. Like the disciples, we gather with Mary in the “upper room” of our hearts and pray in the school of Mary.

          Second, as St. Pope John Paul II insisted in his Apostolic Letter on the Most Holy Rosary in 2002, “the Rosary, though clearly Marian in character, is at heart a Christocentric prayer.” Each mystery we contemplate is a mystery of Christ. The “Hail Mary” always seems to reflect the way in which, between the conception of Jesus and His nativity, Mary carried Jesus in her womb. Like the great prayer of the Eastern Church, the Jesus Prayer, the Rosary repeats, again and again, the most Holy Name of Jesus. “There is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved,” Saint Peter said (Acts 4:11).

          Thirdly, the Rosary is a Scriptural prayer. The twenty “mysteries” are all drawn from Scripture. There is a deep relationship between the practice known as “Lectio Divina” – the prayerful reading and listening to the words of Scripture – and the Rosary. Prayer is a dialogue with God which begins not with our words to God, but God’s words to us. It is the Holy Spirit speaking to us through the words of Scripture that “teaches us to pray.” As Saint Paul wrote to the Church in Rome, “we do not know what we should pray for, as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered”(Romans 8:26). The prayer of the Divine Office, consisting of Psalms and Scripture readings, teaches us the same lesson. For this reason, I suggest you sometimes use the “Scriptural Rosary” resources, which recommend verses of the Scriptures to accompany meditation on the mysteries.

          Finally, the Rosary teaches us to “pray constantly” (1 Thess 5:17). I strongly recommend carrying a set of rosary beads in the pocket as a reminder to take opportunities throughout each day to pray. There will be times for a few moments to pray, perhaps while waiting in line or during our lunch break. The Rosary is a circle, which reminds us that our prayer should be never-ending. The tradition of praying a certain set of mysteries on certain days, such as the Joyful Mysteries on Saturday or the Sorrowful Mysteries on Friday, also means that we will never be at a loss as to what to pray: the Rosary gives us direction at every moment.

          I urge you to take up your beads and to spend some time sitting with Mary using this most precious gift to learn how we should “pray as we ought!”

October 6, 2019

          “The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith.” The Lord replied, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” The gospel passage about the mustard seed is familiar to so many of us, and I think we all understand the larger point Jesus is trying to make–that even a little bit of faith can work wonders. That it can grow, strengthen, and make miracles possible.

           But there is something else here that is easy to overlook, another message worth remembering. It is a reminder to us of how much God treasures those things that are small. After all, He came to us as one who was small Himself – a helpless baby, without a home, in a forgotten corner of an occupied country. He feels a special affinity for those in this world who are weak. Overlooked. Neglected. Dismissed. Little.

              I think of St. Therese of Lisieux, whose feast day we celebrate this month–a young woman, barely more than a girl, who hid herself in a Carmelite convent and vowed to find her path to God through what she called her “Little Way.” She died at just 24 years of age and is hailed today not only as one of the most beloved saints, but as one of the greatest doctors of the Church. Also consider the woman who took her name, Mother Teresa—now Saint Teresa of Calcutta—who dared to embrace and love those nobody else would even touch. She once said that while we may not all be able to do great things, we can all do small things with great love. That message has moved millions of all faiths (and even those of no faith) all over the world.

              Great things often begin with something small.  And, on this Respect Life Sunday, when we are called to honor life, our hearts and minds are drawn to those who are the smallest of all.  Those who are often dishonored, and even discarded. Those who are, literally, the size of a mustard seed. Science tells us that at five weeks, an embryo is roughly the size of the tip of a pen–only a little bit smaller than a mustard seed. And yet, its life story is already beginning to be told. Its heart has already started the great work of a lifetime. It has begun to beat. And beat. And beat. Across an average lifespan, the human heart will beat three billion times. In a five-week-old embryo, it is only getting started. But so is everything else. The baby’s facial features are starting to form: the eyes, the nose, and the lips. Eyes that will watch the leaves change and the sun rise. The nose that will smell boiling crawfish and fresh baked bread. The lips that will smile and one day whisper, “I love you.” The passageways of its inner ear are taking shape–to hear the sound of music, or the laughter of a child, or the call of seagulls on Lake Pontchartrain. Small limbs are forming–arms to hold, and legs to run. At five weeks, the brain is beginning to develop–a mind that will solve problems or write poetry. And yet: that life—that remarkable, miraculous, incomparable life — is not much larger than a mustard seed. It may be, at most, the size of a pencil eraser.

             And that small life, imperceptible and maybe even unknown, is loved by God. It has a spark of the divine. It carries with it the potential to one day build towers, span rivers, and compose symphonies. There is a purpose to its being, even in being so small. As Houston’s Cardinal Daniel DiNardo once wrote: “Every human being, at every stage and condition, is willed and loved by God. For this reason, every human life is sacred.”

              Over the last four decades, we have all heard so many reasons for standing in opposition to abortion. Let me add my own. It is, quite simply, because it strikes so deeply at the heart of God. It disrupts His divine act of creation, ripping it from His hands, throwing it to the ground. And it does this to those for whom He feels a special closeness–the weak, the struggling, the defenseless, the small. The fact is: every life carries possibility, and hope.

                As Catholic Christians, it is our responsibility to proclaim that hope to the world–to respect life as the sacred gift that it is, in all its forms, in all its stages. To pray for life. To nurture it. To act as collaborators with God, to help His work come into the world, and continue. And to do that with even the tiniest mustard seed of faith—trusting, somehow, in God’s will. If we do that, who knows what miracles might happen? Who knows what mulberry trees we might be able to move?

September 29, 2019

           I want to reflect this weekend on the Eucharistic witness of 49 Christians who were tortured and killed for the faith in 304 in Abitene, a small village in modern day Tunisia. Their crime was to violate the emperor Diocletian’s order that forbade Christians, under pain of death, from gathering on Sunday to celebrate the Eucharist. When the pro-consul Anulinus asked them why on earth they had disobeyed the emperor’s severe orders, one of them, named Emeritus, replied simply, “sine dominico non possumus,” that is, without Sunday we cannot live. For Emeritus and his Christian companions, Sunday Mass was worth dying for; they could not live without it. The Eucharist is “the source and the summit of the Christian life.” For someone’s life to be truly Christian, the Eucharist must be the starting point and the goal of everything that person is and does. Every Christian worthy of the name is called to say, with Emeritus, “without Sunday Mass we cannot survive.”

          This witness that Christ in the Eucharist is worth dying for is not a relic of ancient days. Still today in the Sudan, Catholics often must risk deadly road-side ambushes by fundamentalist Muslims to walk for hours, in the dark of night, to celebrate Mass in secluded locations. In China, priests and faithful in the underground Church risk long-term imprisonment for the celebration of the sacred mysteries. In third-world regions where there is a drastic shortage of priests, Catholics journey on foot for miles in rough terrain to attend a Mass that they hope will last hours. By their actions, they show that Christ’s sacrifice, love, and life—made present in the Eucharist—is worth their sacrifices, their love, and their lives.

          Catholics in many areas of America are now starting to be asked to make greater sacrifices with respect to Sunday Mass. Because of the shortage of priests, some churches, where the faithful have loved to attend Mass for years, are having to close. In other parishes, Mass schedules are being reduced. In most places, Mass attendance is becoming increasingly inconvenient with respect to the past. Paradoxically, however, this extra hassle may be a blessing in disguise. In the days when there were enough priests to offer Masses almost every hour in upper and lower churches, it was easy to start taking the Mass for granted. Almost everyone’s personal preferences were able to be accommodated—early or late, simple or solemn, short or long, with music or without, even with or without one’s favorite parish priest. While this variety had its advantages, it was also true that the divine treasure of the Mass was often obscured by one’s preferred wrapping paper. As priests become fewer, that treasure will necessarily stand in greater relief, because priests will no longer be able to supply the variety of that gift wrap.

            The truth is that Mass is probably not sufficiently appreciated until one is willing to go to any lengths to attend it. In America, thanks be to God, we do not risk imprisonment or martyrdom to make Mass. But we may need to learn from those who do, that Jesus in the Eucharist is worth those sacrifices and more. He is “pearl of great price … worth selling all we have to obtain.” Even if one needed to attend Mass at two o’clock in the morning in an ice-cold church with a priest celebrating Mass contrary to almost every one of our preferences, the opportunity—no, the privilege—to receive the nourishment of the God-man would still be worth it. For without Sunday Mass, the Christian cannot live.

September 22, 2019

           After John the Baptist had pointed out Jesus as the Lamb of God, St. Andrew and a friend ran after Jesus and spent the rest of the afternoon with Him. Then Andrew went to find his brother Simon. He said to him, “We have found the Messiah” and brought him to meet Jesus. Little could Andrew have anticipated what plans Jesus had for his brother! Jesus looked intently at Simon and said, “You are Simon, son of John. You are to be called Cephas [which is translated Peter (or ‘rock’)]” (Jn 1:42). Andrew probably would have been the last person to have foreseen, when introducing his brother to Christ, that the Lord would make his brother the rock on whom He would build His Church (cf. Mt 16:18). Even before the Lord would send Andrew out as an apostle, he had already become a fisher of men—by simply being a good brother and a faithful Jew, sharing with the one he loved the great news of the coming of Christ.

               St. Andrew was Christ’s first “vocation director” and his example is a paradigm for each of us in the Church today. Andrew shows us that vocations recruitment is not the exclusive work of specialists with fancy titles and commissions. It need not involve elaborate strategies. In fact, it is not supposed to be at all extraordinary, but rather the ordinary practice of doing what Andrew himself did: (1) running after Christ; (2) spending time with Him; (3) bringing joyful, enthusiastic word of Him to those we know and love; (4) leading them into direct contact with Christ; and (5) allowing Christ to do the rest.

            Like Andrew, none of us knows what plans the Lord has for our relatives, friends, colleagues, teammates, and even adversaries. Some young man we know may want to be St. Peter’s successor. Some girl may have the vocation to be a 21^st Century St. Teresa of Calcutta. But just as Simon and Agnes Bojaxhiu might never have realized their vocations unless others had brought them into direct contact with Christ, so future saints, apostles, priests, and religious might never become aware of God’s plans for them unless we, like Andrew and Mrs. Bojaxhiu, bring Christ to them and them to Christ.

              I think there are three PLACES where we must bring those we know to meet Christ. The first is in prayer. Most of us know that when Pope St. John Paul II was a teenager, he dreamed to become an actor. One day, however, he met a 40-year-old tailor named Jan Tyranowski, who, with St. John of the Cross’ writings, helped the young Karol Wojtyla and his friends learn how to encounter the Lord more deeply in prayer. Jan told his young friends, essentially, that he had found the Messiah and wanted to show them where to find Him. The Lord did the rest. The second is in the sacrament of confession. Here the Good Shepherd cares individually for each of His lambs. His mercy helps young people not be discouraged by their falls. The heart-to-heart guidance He gives them through His priests helps them mature in self-knowledge and self-mastery. And His grace helps them to say “yes” to Him in all their choices, preparing them to say “yes” to Him when He, at last, makes His plans for them plain. The third is in the Eucharist, both at Mass and in adoration. Most young people entering the seminary and religious life today state that their whole lives changed when they started to receive the Lord daily and go regularly to adore Him.

             It is no surprise that priestly and religious vocations have plummeted at the same time that the practice of frequent confession, daily Mass attendance, and Eucharistic adoration have nosedived in the Church. Vocations will increase when the Church as a whole, and young people, in particular, begin again to encounter the Lord there more regularly. We see this already happening in those parishes and dioceses where contact with Christ in these ways is vigorously promoted. A young man who treasures the Lord’s forgiveness in confession and His abiding presence in the Eucharist cannot help wondering about the priesthood that uniquely makes them possible. A young woman who falls in love with her merciful and Eucharistic Lord cannot avoid marveling about whether she might spend her life wedded to that Love.

                  For us to bring them to Christ in these ways, however, we must be able to say, first, that “we have found the Messiah” ourselves, and then not be bashful about inviting others to experience the same joy. The Messiah and Harvest Master, who never ceases to call young people to follow Him all the way, will take it from there. What He does may surprise us!

September 1, 2019

          Watch a few minutes of the news and we know that the world is at odds with our faith. Actually, there is more than a competition; it is an all-out battle raging between the worldly culture and a life of faith. Many people take one side or the other, some people try to play both sides, some of these people act as traitors–carrying a title of one side and living the ways of the other. We are each challenged to pick the side that we dare stand for.

          As Catholics, we are the ones that are marked with the sign of faith. We are the ones who are equipped for competition. We must be engaged in the struggle of the competition, this is our Christian duty. Our task is to convert this misguided world, to transform it into something that is holy; this is the coming of God’s Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. This has been God’s intent from the start and Jesus has invited many to join His cause.

          We cannot simply believe that God’s kingdom is only in heaven, for it is God’s intent that His kingdom is on earth as it is in heaven: obviously stated by Jesus in the “Our Father.” And it is our responsibility, with God’s grace, that God’s kingdom unfolds on earth. Is this not the reason Christ became present in the world? Not for just 33 years, but for the last 2,000 years. We, His Church, are the physical means of living His spirit. Is it not our responsibility then to continue this mission as Jesus expressed, “As the Father has sent me, I also send you” (Jn 20:21). Jesus was the earthly witness to the Father; therefore, we ought to do the same. His words were not for His Apostles alone, but also for us.

           By living a Christian life, we proclaim to the world that God is present in the world. The world of Jesus is different from the culture we live in. Jesus lived in a real spirit of poverty, chastity, and obedience. There are movements within our culture that call us—especially our youth—to be affluent, perverted, and rebellious. The practice of poverty gives us a sense to begin with the end in mind by renouncing the material things of this world, therefore preparing us for the last act of renunciation upon the moment of death when we give it all up. To do without certain things does not limit our freedom as much as it gives us more freedom, because we become detached from the material goods and less reliant on them.

          It is easy to become self-ambitious, pre-occupied with money, affluence, and power. Of course, there must be a balance, we do not want to become a burden on others because we do not earn our keep, or care for our own family’s needs. This is all part of being a good steward. But it does have something to do with recognizing our needs, and our wants, and not responding to every desire that we have. We know well that many people do this in our culture and spiral further and further in debt to try to fill the desire of having.

          Stewardship has a great deal to do with trusting God for our needs, that He will provide for our needs, in giving us opportunities to work toward the fulfillment of those needs. It has something to do with imitating Christ in His poverty, chastity, and obedience. It recognizes the needs of others and responding to those needs. It articulates our duty as Christians and contributes to the building of God’s kingdom on this earth, by seeing Christ in the poor and those who are less fortunate than we are. It identifies that the worldly goods that we have are gifts from God to be used towards His greater glory, not ours. All of this is on the premise that God is first; everything starts with God. This seems to be the spirit of Jesus’ words, “Man cannot serve two masters, God and mammon” (Lk 16:13).

          The battle will rage until the last day, therefore we will always have to struggle with the balance of our spiritual journey and our temporal well being. Realistically, our generation will most likely always struggle with the desire to have more, (just as we must struggle to avoid sin). We must make a concerted effort not to collect too much stuff for ourselves alone while ignoring those in need. After all, we are journeying through life and a lot of this stuff is heavy!

August 18, 2019

          In August, parents will be sending their children “back to school” at SEAS. It is a time of frenzied preparation, replete with “to-do lists,” worrying, and a whole lot of prayer. The expression “back to school” is a bit of a misnomer when we understand the teaching of the Catholic Church on the nature and vocation of the Christian family. The family is the first school, and the home is the first school house. Parents are the first teachers of their children. Also, a polestar of Western educational law for centuries was that teachers acted “in loco parentis,” in the place of the parents. Sadly, in some situations, that approach seems to have been forgotten. When Catholic parents send their children “back to school” here at SEAS, they are really extending their educational mission to our teachers and entrusting their treasured children to our care.

          Many parents make great sacrifices to send their children to SEAS. They do so because they want them to have a Catholic Education. Of course they want the academic excellence which is clearly a part of the Catholic educational ethos. However, our parents could find academic excellence in many other choices, including public, charter, and private schools. In short, parents want our school to be discernibly and foundationally Catholic. It is important to note that education is not a program or a process that the Church adds something to, as though the quest of educating were some kind of nakedly secular pursuit which we somehow make “religious.” Rather, education is the very heart and core of the Church’s mission.

           In his masterful letter to the Romans, St. Paul calls all Christians to a “…renewal of their minds” (Romans 12:2). This renewal of the mind is the essence of Catholic education. In speaking of itself, the Church often notes that it is an “expert in humanity” who “walks the way of the person.” In the words of Pope St. John XXIII, which are echoed in so many pronouncements of the Magisterium, the Church is both “Mater et Magister,” “Mother and Teacher.” The Church is itself an educating institution. Catholic identity in a Catholic school, just as in Catholic persons, begins from the inside and works its way throughout like leaven or yeast. Catholic identity must be the very heart and core of SEAS, providing the infrastructure for the entire educational mission.

           The primary purpose of a Catholic School is to be a Catholic School. In other words, to teach, form, and prepare students in Christ, through Christ, and with Christ, who has been raised and continues His redemptive mission through His Body, the Church. Thus, SEAS shares in the mission of Jesus Christ. It is my expectation that all subjects and all activities at SEAS will be imbued with a Catholic anthropology and the derivative understanding of education it entails. Catholic education exists to put students in touch with the source of all Truth and Beauty, God Himself.

         Dear parents and parishioners, SEAS will continue to grow in goodness, excellence, and virtue only if good Catholic parents and parishioners stay involved. Do not be afraid to insist that our parish school lives up to its name and demonstrates this kind of full Catholic identity. And please continue to offer your help and your prayer to make sure that we do!

June 30, 2019

          In the Gospel of St. Mark (Mk 6:30-34), we read the following account: And the apostles coming together unto Jesus, related to him all things that they had done and taught. And he said to them: “Come apart into a desert place, and rest a little.” For there were many coming and going: and they had not so much as time to eat. And going up into a ship, they went into a desert place apart. And they saw them going away, and many knew: and they ran flocking thither foot from all the cities, and were there before them. And Jesus going out saw a great multitude: and he had compassion on them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd, and he began to teach them many things (Douay-Rheims Translation).

          “Come into a deserted place, and rest.” Our Lord Jesus Christ knows what it is like to bear the heavy burden of our daily tasks and duties. He knows that we are constantly in movement, going about from one activity to the next. Like busy bees, we go from one flower to the next. We often lose the beauty of the present moment, because we are seeking to do more and more each time, to be “efficient,” as the modern expression goes.

          But efficiency for efficiency’s sake is like a vicious circle. The more we do, the more we crave to do. The more “efficient” we are, the more we seek to improve our “efficiency.” This is especially true of the “Getting Things Done” methodology of personal and professional task management. There is nothing wrong with trying to get things done, but it is important that we ask ourselves one very fundamental question through it all: Why? Why am I seeking to be more efficient? Efficiency is not the answer, for it can never be an end in itself. It should always be a means to another end. But what exactly is that end? What is the ultimate goal or purpose of trying to get things done?

          Many who have had professional careers that the world regards as “successful” remained empty inside. This is because efficiency or “getting things done” can never satisfy one’s deepest longings, in and of itself. Those who reflect deeply on their experience of this efficiency often arrive at the same conclusion: we seek efficiency for a higher cause. We want to get our daily tasks and duties done, so that we can devote our time and energy to the things that really matter in life: family, love, relationships, and happiness. In fact, deep down, all men seek happiness as their ultimate goal. The great Greek philosopher, Aristotle, says so at the beginning of his profound work, “Nicomachean Ethics.” Happiness is the only goal that can fulfill the human soul, because we were created to be happy.

          True happiness can only come with finding one’s ultimate end, the “final goal” for which we exist. Man can only truly be happy when he seeks after and attains that end. However, what is the final end of man? Why do we exist? Why did God create us? The Christian Faith is the only way of life that can answer that question ultimately. In some religions, ultimate happiness consists in being fused with the great Energy of the Universe: “becoming one with god.” But the god that such systems propose to the human soul is an impersonal, pantheistic force or “energy.” It is not a personal god, for god cannot be localized, so they say. He is pure spirit, without a body, without matter. He is therefore everywhere, and so cannot be localized to one particular place at any one time. This god is everything and everything is god.

          Christianity, however, presents man with a totally different world-view. In the Catholic Faith, God is a personal entity. He revealed Himself to man fully and completely in the person of Jesus Christ, the Incarnation of God in human flesh. Jesus Christ is the only prophet, of all the religions of the world, who is acknowledged to be God Himself. No other religion portrays its prophet as God. Their prophets are messengers, or reformers, or instruments of the divine; but they are never God. Christ alone claims to be Divinity itself, in incarnate form.

          In the Gospel verse above, Jesus invites his apostles to “come apart into a desert place and rest a while.” He knows that the ultimate finality or end of man is union with God. He knows that man can only be truly happy when he attains his final end. Man is a spiritual being; he has an immortal soul. The human soul has two faculties: the intellect and the will. The intellect’s end is to know truth; the will’s end is to adhere to a good (to love a good). The spiritual ends of man, therefore, are two-fold: to know what is true and to love what is good. However, if we take this to the extreme, and ask what is the ultimate end of man, we must reply thus: man’s ultimate end or finality is to know Ultimate Truth and to love an Ultimate Good. Now God alone is Truth itself and Goodness itself. Every other truth is but a participation in God’s Fullness of Truth and God’s Plenitude of Goodness. Therefore, the ultimate end of man is to know God and to love God. In doing these things, man is fully and completely “finalized;” that is, he becomes what he is ultimately called to be. To know God and to love God are the only things that can make man truly happy in this world. If man were to possess all other things and be void of these, he would not be truly happy. Conversely, if he were to know God and love God in this life, and know and love nothing else, then he would be truly and fully happy. He would be “complete,” as it were, in his humanity. Saint Irenaeus of Lyons understood this well, when he wrote, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” Saint Augustine stated this using other words when he said, “O man, become what you are!” that is, become that to which God is calling you.

           Jesus knows man, because, being the God-man (fully man and fully God), Jesus Christ reveals man fully to himself. And so whatever Christ does and says in the Holy Gospels, it is ultimately ordered to these ends. When, in the Gospel verse quoted above, Christ invites His apostles to come aside to a desert place and rest, He is doing this in order to lead them to their true, ultimate source of happiness. The knowledge and love of God (to know Truth and to love Goodness itself) are things that can only be discovered by man when he enters into the depths of his soul and seeks the living Presence of his Creator and Redeemer there. What Christ is calling His apostles to, therefore, is prayer: deep, silent prayer; the prayer of the heart. When man prays, he finds the Truth of God, and adheres to the Goodness of God. His intellect is finalized by this Ultimate Truth, and his will by this Ultimate Good. This is what makes man fully alive, and completely happy.

           Our Lord Jesus Christ, therefore, is calling us all to prayer. He knows that in the depths of the soul, nothing can satisfy our longing for Truth and Love more perfectly than prayer, for prayer places our soul in contact with the One who is “The Way, the Truth, and the Life,” and the One who is Love itself. Without prayer, man cannot be fully happy, because he cannot obtain the end for which he was created, which is full communion with God. This indwelling Presence of the Three Divine Persons within his soul is what makes man to be “in the image and likeness of God.” Without prayer, it is impossible for man to achieve this, because he cannot do so on his own. He requires a special Grace from God, and grace can certainly come to us through prayer. “Ask and ye shall receive,” says Our Lord.

          But this prayer need not be one of words. There is a deeper, more penetrating prayer that leads to union with God more fully than a prayer of words. This is what the Catholic Tradition has called “The Prayer of Quiet” or “Silent Prayer.” It is sometimes referred to as “Mental Prayer”—not because it uses the mind, but because it goes beyond words and therefore transcends Vocal Prayer. It is a communication with God beyond words. This Silent Prayer is most perfectly effected in the presence of Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist. And so, we can see Christ’s words to His apostles (”Come aside to a deserted place and rest a while”) as an invitation to Eucharistic Adoration. There is no better place to find rest, than within the very bosom of God. Like the Beloved Disciple at the Last Supper (St. John the Apostle), we too are being called to rest our head upon the Sacred Heart of Our Lord. We are being called to listen, in the silent Presence of the Blessed Sacrament, to the Voice of our Beloved One, speaking to us in the depths of our soul—beyond words, beyond even thoughts. God alone can communicate with the soul with such intimacy—an intimacy to which he is calling each and every one of us. Would we not be fools to refuse His invitation to “come aside to a deserted place and rest” with Him?

June 23, 2019

          When I became a seminarian, I began to pay much more attention to the Church’s liturgical calendar. I already had a strong devotion to the saints in general, nourished by reading Butler’s Life of the Saints each night before going to bed, but when I entered Notre Dame Seminary, I started to get headaches from the details that at times have historically driven priests, seminarians, religious, sacristans, daily communicants, and all those who pray the Liturgy of the Hours a little crazy.

         Through observation I learned that there was a difference between obligatory and optional memorials, which meant that certain saints’ feast days had to be celebrated while others were left up to the discretion of the priest celebrating the Mass or the person praying the breviary. Often I was left wondering what criteria the Church applied to determine that some saints were more important to remember and celebrate than others and why many of my favorite saints did not make the cut to be considered “mandatory”!

          I also discovered that certain saints had even higher honors. The celebrations of the Apostles, for example, were called “feasts,” and their commemorations involved praying the Gloria at Mass and the Te Deum at the end of the first part of the Liturgy of the Hours. The designation of feast put them on the same order of liturgical importance as Our Lady’s birth or Visitation, and our Lord’s Presentation and Transfiguration. Finally, I learned that some saints’ celebrations—Saints Peter and Paul and the birth of St. John the Baptist—were considered so important that they were called “solemnities” and given the same importance in the Church’s calendar as Sundays, holy days of obligation and celebrations like the Lord’s Annunciation and All Saints. They not only had the privileges of a feast, the Gloria and the Te Deum, but also required the Profession of Faith at Mass and special prayers for Evening Prayer and Night prayer.

          At the end of my first year of seminary, I thought that I had most of the distinctions down. When I returned to the seminary from summer pastoral work, however, my working categories were blown to smithereens. It happened before sunrise on August 10. I already knew from my reading of Butler’s the night before that it was the day the Church marked the martyrdom of St. Lawrence. When I opened my breviary that morning, I expected to see the term “memoria,” Latin for “memorial,” under St. Lawrence’s name. That would signify that it was obligatory, since optional memorials did not say anything after the saint’s name. Instead, I saw the term “festum,” for “feast.” First, I thought it had to be a typo. I looked to see whether there was a Te Deum at the end of the Office of Readings, and there was. Distracted, I pulled out the Roman Missal for Mass and saw that there, in addition, it said it was a feast. St. Lawrence was not an apostle, I reasoned, so how could he have a feast?

          Since that day, I have always had a fascination for what has made St. Lawrence special and at least liturgically more important in the eyes of the Church. He is the only saint in the history of the Church besides the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Apostles whose commemoration is more than an obligatory memorial. The most historically precise reason for his liturgical pre-eminence—as I discovered much to my surprise during my seminary years—is that he, alongside Saints Peter and Paul, is the third patron of the Diocese of Rome. Because of the obvious importance of Rome in the development of the Roman Rite of the liturgy, as well as the fact that no matter where we are we are all “Roman” Catholics, the celebration of the third patron of this most prestigious See in the world has taken on a larger significance. But the more compelling reason for the St. Lawrence’s ritual distinction is, I think, what made him so important to the Catholics of Rome that he was considered as much a protector and intercessor as the two greatest apostles. To discover that reason, we must go back 1750 years in time.

          In August 258, the Roman emperor Valerian launched a ferocious persecution against the Christians. He was convinced that the empire was growing weaker because it did not have religious unity and that the gods, upset that so many Christians were not sacrificing to them, were enacting their revenge. His persecution had two parts. The first was to decapitate the Church by immediately executing her leaders, closing places of worship, and seizing whatever property they had. Then he would require all citizens of the empire to sacrifice to the gods, confident that, without the guidance of the clergy, ordinary Christians would sacrifice—many because they did not know any better; others because they lacked the personal courage to face death rather than burn incense before the statue of a pagan god.

          On August 6, the program began. Roman soldiers entered the catacombs of St. Callistus; they captured Pope St. Sixtus II in the middle of the celebration of the Mass, and later that day beheaded him and the two deacons serving Mass with him. As he was being led to his place of execution—St. Ambrose describes for us a century later—his young archdeacon Lawrence ran up to him deploring the fact that he, who had so often gone up with Sixtus to the altar of God, would not be able to be with him when Sixtus’ participation in the Mass would reach its culmination. The pope told his archdeacon that the Romans surely had plans for him, too, and that within a few days they would be reunited in the celestial liturgy.

          The Romans did indeed have plans for Lawrence. Because the seven deacons in the city were in charge of all of the Church’s money, treasures and charitable work, the Roman prefect instructed him to assemble all of the Church’s riches Three days later, Lawrence brought him the Church’s genuine fortune: the poor Christians of the city who were so precious to the Lord that he gave His life for them. “Behold in these poor persons the treasures that I promised to show you,” he said. “The Church has no other riches. Make use of them for the advantage of Rome, the emperor and yourself.”

          The infuriated leader, who was already planning to kill Lawrence after having gotten his hand on the Church’s supposed wealth, decided to do so that day in an excruciatingly painful and protracted manner: to broil him upon a gridiron above slowly burning coals. With courage and serenity, St. Lawrence went to the place of his holocaust. He was stripped, bound with chains upon an iron bed and roasted. The more piercing the flames, the greater it seemed was the fire of his divine love. After enduring with heroic cheerfulness for a great length of time, he turned to the prefect and said one of the greatest lines in hagiological history: “Assum est. Versa and manduca,” loosely, “This side is done. Turn me over and take a bite.” He died soon after having his front side seared.

          The early Christians, still facing violent persecutions, adopted him as a radiant example of charity, cheerfulness, and courage in the midst of hardship. His example shines still in the darkness of persecution in places like the Middle East as well as in all areas, including close to home, where Christians suffer on account of our fidelity. As we approach the end of another liturgical year, we ask St. Lawrence to continue to intercede for all the Catholics of the Church of Rome that we might imitate his virtues and one day share his eternal reward.

June 16, 2019

           “The great miracle of the Curé of Ars,” one of his contemporaries said during the process for beatification “was his confessional, besieged day and night.” The fundamental reason why the Year for Priests had been called by Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI on the 150th anniversary of the birth of St. John Vianney into eternal life was not that he left us a body of inspiring sermons like Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen. It was not principally because of the angelic way he would celebrate Mass, his all night vigils of prayer, his fasting on boiled potatoes, his legendary battles against the devil, or his famous love and care for orphans. What made him famous, what earned him the reputation of being a saint in his lifetime and the title of the patron saint of priests after his death, was what God did through him in his “besieged” confessional.

            For much of his 41 years in Ars, a town that had 230 souls when he arrived, he heard confessions of more than its entire population each day. He used to hear 12-14 hours of confessions in the winter and 16-18 hours in the summer. Most of us, in hearing those numbers, would naturally admire his commitment and dedication, much like we would commend anyone who worked 18 hour days in loving service of others. When I was a seminarian, I used to applaud the concrete “priority” he gave to the sacrament of confession, which obviously would have required many other sacrifices. It was only in December of 2007, however—while hearing confessions at my first Advent penance service—that I really understood what St. John Vianney’s commitment really meant. That night, I sat in the confessional and heard confessions for three hours. I likened it to Jesus’ three hours on the cross. Even though I was use to pushing my body to the limit, I had never been so totally exhausted. My back ached. My bottom ached. My whole body ached, but I took solace at least that I could still feel it. My mind, on the other hand, felt totally depleted. A year later, when preaching a parish Lenten Mission, I heard 12 hours of confessions stretched from Monday night through Wednesday night. At the end of the mission, I was comatose.

           When I think now about the Curé of Ars’ hearing confessions for 12-18 hours a day, the closest analogy I would give would be to running 25-40 miles a day … uphill … into gale force winds … with ankle weights … and wrist weights … in full body armor … made of lead. Morover, he did it almost every day for decades. What St. John Vianney did in the confessional is, to me, the physical equivalent of doing a triathlon for the last 11,000 days of his life. It gives new meaning to the term heroism. This is the first reason why we can say that the great miracle of the Curé of Ars was his confessional, because his daily stamina makes everything else look like minor feats in comparison.

             The second reason his confessional was miraculous was because of what was occurring on the other side of the screen. People from all over France were making their way to an inaccessible hamlet in the southeastern corner of the country, taking primitive trains, even more primitive horse-drawn carts, and often walking for miles in fog, rain and mud. Once there, they would in general need to wait up to eight days in a church that was stiflingly warm in summer and ice cold in the winter in order to have their confession heard. Why wouldn’t they have taken the easy way out and just have gone to confession to one of the priests in their cities or town? Why would as many as 4,000 people have shown up one day, and 120,000 in a year, to go to confession to this simple priest in a tiny village?

           They were coming, as one of the penitents once said, because they were encountering “God in a man.” In St. John Vianney, they found more than a man ordained to act in the person of Christ to absolve them of their sins. Any validly ordained priest with faculties to hear confessions could do that. They were coming to someone who incarnated the mercy of the Heavenly Father, who shared the Good Shepherd’s zeal to do anything it took to bring back to the fold the one lost sheep, who would rejoice with all the saints in heaven over the repentance of one sinner, and who like Christ would willingly be hammered to the wood of his confessional to save sinners. In him, we encountered not just a confessor who administered God’s power for the forgiveness of sins, but the closest earthly approximation to the holiness of God. That drew them irresistibly and through all types of sacrifices to make the road to Ars the road to Damascus.

             His besieged confessional was miraculous even more so considering that in France in the 19^th century, the sacrament of penance was not popular. Sometimes Catholics today can look back to the long confessional lines in the 1950’s and think that that was always the way it was until the present crisis in faith and in the practice of confession. When St. John Vianney arrived in Ars, however, most people were not practicing the faith at all, not to mention not having frequent recourse to the sacrament of penance. God used him, however, almost single-handedly, to bring the whole Church of France back to the beauty of His mercy.

                Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI wanted priests today to be willing to make the same heroic commitment to the confessional as their patron did, recognizing that the same miracle God worked in Ars for the Church in France He can work again. “Priests ought never to be resigned to empty confessionals or the apparent indifference of the faithful to this Sacrament,” the Holy Father wrote in a letter to priests. “In France, at the time of the Cure of Ars, confession was no more easy or frequent than in our own day, since the upheaval caused by the revolution had long inhibited the practice of religion. Yet he sought in every way, by his preaching and his powers of persuasion, to help his parishioners to rediscover the meaning and beauty of the Sacrament of Penance, presenting it as an inherent demand of the Eucharistic presence. He thus created a ‘virtuous’ circle. By spending long hours in church before the tabernacle, he inspired the faithful to imitate him by coming to visit Jesus with the knowledge that their parish priest would be there, ready to listen and offer forgiveness. Later, the growing numbers of penitents from all over France would keep him in the confessional for up to sixteen hours a day. It was said that Ars had become ‘a great hospital of souls.’”

               In a 1986 letter to priests on the bicentennial of the Curé’s birth, Pope St. John Paul said that the state of the world requires that all priests should imitate the pastor of Ars in making themselves “very available” for the Sacrament of Penance. He asked them to give it “priority over other activities” so that the faithful will realize the value attached to this “most difficult, the most delicate, the most taxing and the most demanding [priestly ministry] of all—especially when priests are in short supply.” Christ is asking His priests to generously open up again that “great hospital of souls,” so that He can replicate in the cities and towns of the Archdiocese of New Orleans and elsewhere the great miracle He worked through one priest in Ars. He is also calling all the faithful to come to receive this universal spiritual health care. 

June 9, 2019

          One of Pope Emeritus Benedict’s principal goals during his 2007 Pastoral Visit to Latin America was to help the bishops of that region examine and reverse a recent exodus of Catholics to Evangelical or Pentecostal ecclesial communions or away from the practice of Christianity altogether. This was part of a broader conversation about how the Church in Latin America should most effectively proclaim and live the Gospel, so as to increase and fortify the faith of practicing Catholics and attract ex-Catholics and non-Catholics into full communion.

            What Benedict said to Catholics in Latin America is relevant to Catholics in the northern part of the hemisphere, where not only Latin American immigrants are feeling the pull toward Evangelical ecclesial communions, but also many Catholics whose families immigrated generations ago have stopped the practice of the faith. The pope emeritus mentioned, essentially, five main elements of a pastoral plan, all of which are somewhat obvious, but each of which in practice has been underemphasized in Latin America. As we at St. Benilde Parish celebrate Pentecost Sunday by commemorating the birth of the Church and begging the Holy Spirit’s help for a new Pentecost of evangelization, it is worthwhile to look at these five fundamentals and ensure that they are priorities in practice within our parish family.

           The first and most essential element, Benedict said, is to focus on Jesus Christ. In referring to those Catholics who have abandoned the life of the Church, the pope said that the principal cause “is to be found in the lack of an evangelization completely centered on Christ and His Church.” In many parts of Latin America, priests and pastoral agents had focused so much on social justice issues and remedying temporal wrongs that Catholics, hungry to encounter God in the Church, were often going unfed. They were also for the most part uncatechized about the distinctiveness of the Catholic Church in Jesus Christ’s plans. For both reasons, when Bible-loving Protestant missionaries arrived, devoting their teaching and their enthusiasm to what Christ says in the Bible, many Catholics could not help but see the development as an answer to their longings. Benedict indicated that the Church must do better and begin to emphasize above all the true nature of the Church as the place to meet Jesus Christ. 

             The second element is to provide the faithful with a “thorough doctrinal and spiritual formation” to strengthen Catholics’ knowledge and practice of the faith. This training involves the “indispensable pre-condition” of prayerful study of the Bible. “We must train people to read and meditate on the word of God: this must become their staple diet, so that, through their own experience, the faithful will see that the words of Jesus are spirit and life.” This will not only help them as followers of Jesus, but also equip them to take Jesus’ message to others. The other main component is catechesis “not only of children but also of young people and adults.” Benedict particularly recommended for this “simple…substantial…and mature reflection on faith” the “most valuable tools” of the Catechism of the Catholic Church and its abridged Compendium. He also encourages the use not only of “homilies, lectures, Bible courses, or theology courses, but also to the communications media: press, radio and television, websites, forums and many other methods for effectively communicating the message of Christ to a large number of people.” For this training of the head and heart, he stated that “we must work with the Gospel in our hands and anchor ourselves in the authentic heritage of the Apostolic Tradition, free from any interpretations motivated by rationalistic ideologies,” like the various Marxist theologies of liberation.

           The third pillar is a “leap forward in the quality of people’s Christian lives,” which will enable them to “bear witness to their faith in a clear and transparent way.” An increase in the knowledge of the faith is not enough; it must be translated into a contagious and holy love of God and love of neighbor. This leap forward must be seen not only in the “personal virtues” of faith, hope, and love, but also in the “social and political virtues” whereby the disciple “feels driven to bring the Good News of salvation to his brothers and sisters.” These other-centered virtues involve first care for others’ souls, by trying to bring others—especially the poor and those on the “outskirts” of society—to a personal encounter with Christ through the Church He founded. But it also involves the practice of “solidarity” in seeking to help them with their “material needs,” just as we naturally and lovingly would care for members of our families. True Christians are revealed by their love.

           Fourth, this practice of love will help all to see the Church as their family, the “universal family of God.” Benedict declared, “The encounter with God is, in itself and as such, an encounter with our brothers and sisters.” With great emotion, he added, “The Pope therefore wants to say to all of you: The Church is our home! This is our home!” The Church is the place in which we live in the “Father’s house,” and receive welcome, love, forgiveness and help. That should fill us with a sense of belonging, responsibility, and holy pride. “It is worth being faithful,” Benedict exclaimed, “It is worth persevering in our faith!”

           Lastly, Benedict stressed that there must be renewed emphasis on the “personal encounter with Christ” in the Eucharist. Since Jesus in the Eucharist is the “source and summit of the Christian life,” Benedict reminded bishops and priests that their “primary task” is to “ensure that the faithful share in the Eucharistic life,” and particularly Sunday Mass, which is the “center of Christian life.” If people who love Jesus Christ recognize that He is incarnate in the Eucharist, Benedict implied, then few would abandon the Catholic faith for non-Eucharistic forms of Christianity. Moreover, if young men and their families recognized and loved Christ in the Eucharist, it also would give new impetus to discernment of the priesthood, without which there is no Eucharist.

           This “encounter with Christ in the Eucharist” brings together all the other pillars. It helps us to center our lives around the person of Christ sacramentally present. It gives us the privilege of listening to His Word and having it applied to our lives within the living tradition of the Church. Through our encounter with Christ’s gift of Himself, we are inflamed with the “strong desire to proclaim the Gospel and to bear witness to it in the world so as to build a more just and human society.” It forms us into one family of faith through our becoming one body in Christ. In short, Christ in the Eucharist is the source of a “civilization of love” that begins in the Church and is called to expand like leaven to renew a culture. This is what will be the fruit of a new Pentecost, which the all of us hope to inspire in Catholics throughout the world!

June 2, 2019

          This weekend we celebrate priestly ordinations in the Archdiocese of New Orleans. I thank these men for their courageous witness in faithfully following God’s call, and I too encourage them to persevere. Since the 1960s, to follow a priestly vocation is to be not only a sign of contradiction but also an object of derision. While some support you, many oppose, often including family members and fellow Catholics. Seminarians today have the faith and guts to suffer such indignities for Christ. However, at the same time, greater courage still is needed. We are living at a time when one of the big issues in priestly (and Episcopal) leadership is conflict aversion. Pastoral problems are often ducked rather than addressed. Neuralgic and unpopular teachings are neglected rather than named. Not hurting another’s feelings or offending another’s sensibilities, rather than charity in truth, is the operative moral praxis.

          Greater courage is needed, moreover, because we are living in an age in which popular culture routinely mocks Christian teaching and attacks Christians. We are treated as bigots for upholding Christ’s teaching on marriage and as misogynists for defending the sanctity of every life. We are being sued for not baking cakes or renting halls or compromising our consciences in favor of the culturally correct zeitgeist. Membership in the Knights of Columbus is being treated by some U.S. Senators in 2019 as communist party membership in the 1950s. Catholic high school students from Covington, Kentucky were crucified by social media mobs, before even the facts were known, for their pro-life convictions and support for the President.

          Greater courage is needed as well because fears and phobias dominate our age. As toddlers, we are afraid of the dark, monsters, bad weather, bad dreams, strangers, separations, doctors and dentists, masks, and mascots. As we age, those fears are supplanted by dread of snakes, roaches, rodents, bats, loneliness, rejection, betrayal, unhappiness, change, unpopularity, wasting one’s life, missing out, the unknown, false accusations, personal failure, letting others down, getting fired, losing an argument, being judged, humiliated or ridiculed, poverty, public speaking, flying, loss of control, debilitating illness, pain, senility, the death of loved ones, torture, terrorist attacks, death, and hell.

          That is why Christ’s words, “Be not afraid,” were considered by St. John Paul II among the most important things our time needs to hear everywhere and often. Pope Francis has continued that focus on audacity by constantly repeating the need for parrhesia, the Greek word used by St. Luke in the Acts of the Apostles to refer to the boldness of the early Christians. Courage is, strictly speaking, not the absence of fear, but doing what we ought to do despite our fear because of the strength that we receive

          Greater courage is needed to share the truth in and out of season: a virtue and gift of the Holy Spirit. Many prophets had fears: Moses, Gideon, Jonah, Isaiah, and Jeremiah, to name a few. Jesus instructed the first disciples, as He was sending them as lambs in the midst of wolves, not to be frightened by those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul, not to worry about how to speak or what to say, but to depend on the power of the Holy Spirit. He spoke to St. Paul on multiple occasions telling him not to be afraid, but to continue to give witness to Him in Jerusalem and in Rome.

            Greater courage is needed to love God with all our mind, heart, soul, and strength, and to love our neighbor—including even those who make themselves our enemies — not just a little, or even a lot, but in the self-sacrificial way to the extreme with which Jesus loved us.

           Greater courage is needed in the priestly and religious life to live chaste celibacy. Speaking about the virgin martyrs, St. Ambrose in the fourth century said, “Virginity is praiseworthy not because it is found in martyrs, but because it makes martyrs.” The strength required to a say “yes” to the love of Christ and a “no” to the desire for marriage and family is something that fortifies a person to stay faithful out of love to Christ at the supreme hour. This is what we see in Saints Agnes, Barbara, Agatha, Cecilia, Maria Goretti, and so many others. This is the chastity that also strengthened Jamie Schmidt of House Springs, Missouri, the 53-year-old mother of three who was gunned down at a Catholic Supply store in November 2018, for refusing to strip naked and perform a sex act on a gunman who had pressured two other women in the store to do so.

          Greater courage is needed to study and grow in wisdom and understanding, loving the Lord “with all our minds,” so that we can give reasons for the hope that is within us. It requires effort to master Sacred Scripture, to understand and articulate the teachings of the magisterium, to become an expert in prayer and the interior life, and to understand the culture well enough so that one can be salt, light, and leaven to it.

           Greater courage is needed to be “cheerful ascetics,” like Blessed Francis Xavier, whose 200^thbirthday we celebrate this year. In an age of affirmation and of the consumerist, quasi-religious pursuit of the maximization of pleasure, self-denial and picking up our Cross each day to follow Christ seem almost insane. A healthy but vigorous asceticism is one of the things very much needed today in the clergy and Catholic people in general. Many do not moderate their appetites for food and sweets at all; their waistlines, sugar levels, and cholesterol numbers show it. Others drink too much, smoke, and cannot discipline their addictions to television, the internet, or social media. Others cannot conquer their anger or their sexual appetite. Courage is needed to train ourselves through mortification to say “yes” to God and “no” to the concupiscence of the eyes, flesh, and pride of life.

          Greater courage is needed to obey the Lord, to be true doers of the Word, especially through the flawed human instruments God places over us. The recent scandals have made it more challenging for priests, seminarians, and faithful alike to trust bishops implicitly, and that weaker human trust makes the lived experience of obedience more challenging. To obey God through the Church requires overcoming more fears today than yesterday and a greater boldness in trusting in the constitution the Lord has given to the Church and in the Holy Spirit’s constant guidance despite checkered receptivity on the part of some in authority.

          Greater courage is needed to recognize we are sinners in need of a Savior and come to receive His mercy through His priestly instruments, confessing our sins with candor and contrition, and intending to cut off the metaphorical hands and feet and pluck out the eyes that lead us to sin. It also requires daring to share mercy at the Lord’s standard with those who have wronged us.

          We must pray about where courage comes from, a deep sense of our divine filiation: that God loves us infinitely, unconditionally, and without end. That conviction allows us to live boldly, because we know that we have in our corner the One who has triumphed over Satan, sin, and death and will never abandon us. In addition, we must be constantly reminded that we need the courage to remain faithful to the end. We live in an age in which many people give up: on prayer, fighting sin, suffering, Mass, Confession, marriage, religious vows, priestly vocations, jobs, hope, even life itself. We need courage never to give up, never to stop running the race, fighting the good fight, keeping the faith, and growing in it. The God who knows we need courage in all of these ways and gives us all we need to live boldly—gives of Himself, to embolden us from within. That is the way we are able to live, as Christians, priests, and religious, unafraid.

May 26, 2019

          Receiving the sacrament of Penance is useful, even if someone does not have any serious sin, for it is not enough to purify the soul from mortal sin. It must be cleansed even of venial sin.

          Too many people are content with avoiding mortal sin and are not even aware of the many venial sins they commit. Otherwise, how could they come to confession after six months, a year, or even more, and tell their confessor: "I don't have any sins"? Once in a while, it is even impossible to bring a person to mention one single sin, in order to give absolution. Yet St. John declares, "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us" (John 1:8).

          That good Christians may live for months, or even years, with the help of God’s grace, without one single serious sin are not difficult to believe. But to suppose they could live such a long time without one venial sin seems quite incredible: it would require very special graces and an extraordinary fidelity to grace, such as we see in the saints.

          Because saints are not all that common, it is much more probable that many good people, while they avoid serious sin, do not attach any great importance to these minor faults, which they commit as naturally as they breathe and forget just as easily. Perhaps some are ignorant and do not know these faults are sins, like the man who had emptied quite a bag of serious sins, was asked if he had committed any sins against charity. "Oh, no, Father; I mind my own business," he said.  "You never get impatient, never talk about the faults of others, and never swear at them?" "Oh, yes; but that's not a sin!" he said.

          True, many actions are not mortal sins, but they are sinful and not just imperfect. It is the same with human love: many actions may not destroy friendship and yet they harm them because they offend and displease. Perfect friendship requires that anything which offends or displeases even lightly be avoided. To do anything against the will of a friend is bound to displease him. This is exactly what venial sins do. They are not a complete rebellion against God's will, as mortal sin is so the divine friendship is not broken. They are like the little disobediences of a child, who loves his father and wants to obey him, but at times finds it difficult and is carried away by some strong desire or aversion and does what his father has forbidden, or omits what he has commanded.

          How many of these small disobediences to our heavenly Father we find in our lives when we examine them more closely! How often we fail to love our neighbor as he has commanded us to! It is so easy to sin against charity through words or through silence, by action or an attitude, by impatience or by coldness and indifference.

          So many fail to realize that when they talk about other people's faults, even if it is without malice, they sin against charity, because they are doing to others what they don't want to be done to themselves. They are so little aware of it that they insist they never talk about others. St. James after all, affirms: "If anyone does not offend in word, he is a perfect man" (James 3:2). More numerous, perhaps, are those who pay no attention to the unkind thoughts or feelings they keep willfully, assuming they are not a sin as long as they are not manifested, as if sin were not committed in the heart and as if God did not see the heart. Who accuses these thoughts and feelings before they reach the degree of hate?

           Apart from these light failings against charity, how often we commit all kinds of little faults! It may be pride, bragging and boasting, trying to show off, thinking oneself is so much superior to others. It may be vanity or an excessive care about looks, dress, or a desire for admiration. It may be gluttony: little excesses in food or drink, either by taking too much or being too choosy. It may be too much curiosity about people or about news or for unnecessary knowledge. It may be idle words, light indiscretions or imprudent looks or imaginations. It may be laziness, idleness, waste of time, some neglect of duty. One may be too free or too tight with money.

           There is no end to the many ways in which one may commit venial sins. They are like germs you cannot count them, and they multiply as easily. Like germs, one does not kill, nor do a few; but as they multiply they weaken the soul and its resistance to mortal sin. Like germs, they are so small that we do not see them and therefore do nothing to avoid them.

          This is why frequent confession may be very useful to purify the soul from venial sin. To be done properly, it must be preceded by a serious examination of conscience, which will reveal the faults committed and should be accompanied by a firm resolution to do something to avoid them. If it is frequent enough, it will be possible to remember even small failings, and the resolution being renewed often will not be forgotten and will have a chance to bring results.

          In his encyclical on the Mystical Body of Christ, Pius XII, while protesting against some opinions aimed at turning the faithful away from frequent confession, describes its advantages: "Although there be different means, all praiseworthy, to wash away venial sins, we wish to recommend highly the pious practice of frequent confession, introduced into the Church by an inspiration of the Holy Spirit. It increases knowledge of self, fosters Christian humility, tends to uproot bad habits, opposes spiritual negligence and tepidity, purifies the conscience, fortifies the will, lends itself to spiritual direction, and through the sacrament increases grace. Let those who lower frequent confession in the esteem of the younger clergy know that they are doing something contrary to the Spirit of Christ and very harmful to the Mystical Body of our Savior."

          When a priest, as sometimes happens, discourages penitents from frequent confession of venial sins, he goes against the mind of the Church and the practice of the saints. The saints practiced frequent confession: some every day (St. Catherine of Siena, St. Bridget of Sweden, St. Coletta, St. Charles Borromeo, St. Ignatius and others); some twice a day (St. Ignatius in the latter part of his life, St. Francis Borgia and St. Leonard of Port-Maurice). They recommended frequent confession. St. Leonard proposed daily confession to the priests who accompanied him on his preaching of missions, and he exhorted sisters to go to confession as often as they were allowed. St. Alphonsus gave them the rule that they should confess twice a week, and every time they committed a deliberate sin. St. Francis de Sales prescribed the same for his nuns of the Visitation, and for devout souls in the world, once a week and if possible before Communion.

          This was possible in the days when there were many more priests. Today it would be impossible most of the time, but at least we should avail ourselves of the opportunity to purify our souls from venial sin when it is offered to us, and priests should not refuse to hear these confessions of devotion and much less turn the faithful away from them.

          Of course, for frequent confession to be fruitful, it must not be just routine. One must confess something definite, regret it, and be firmly resolved to do something definite about it. Because of this strict vigilance on one's actions, and these frequently renewed resolutions, one may be able, with the help of God's grace, to avoid, as the saints did, all fully voluntary or deliberate venial sins, since a vow to avoid them is lawful, and if one is committed, it will be rejected without delay.

May 19, 2019

           Spiritual authors divide the ascent of the soul to God into three states: the purgative way, the illuminative way, and the unitive way. In the purgative way, which comes first, the chief aim is to purify the soul, so that it can be enlightened and finally reach perfect union with God. These three ways are often presented as three successive stages in the spiritual ascension: one begins in the purgative, leaves it to enter into the illuminative, from which it passes to the unitive way.

            This way of presenting purification, illumination, and union as successive stages is legitimate inasmuch as, at different ages in the spiritual life, one or the other of the three tends to predominate. But in reality, they are three different but simultaneous processes, which continue through all the ages of the spiritual life. In the measure that the soul is purified, it is enlightened and united to God, so that perfect purification is reached at the same time as perfect union. Nevertheless, there is an order between this threefold action: the affections of the soul must be purified before the mind can receive the divine light, and we must know God before we can love Him or unite our will to His, so as to be one with Him. Purification is, therefore, the first step in the spiritual life; it is not only for beginners, but necessary for all of us.

          This necessary purification is threefold: purification from mortal sin, purification from venial sin, and purification from natural motives.

           Of course, the first step for anyone who wants to draw near to God is to turn away from mortal sin, from grave disobedience to the Father. No one may pretend to love God or claim His favor, if he does not regret having rebelled against His will or if he refuses to do it. Turning away from mortal sin means that we recognize we were very disobedient to the Father, that we regret it, either on account of the punishment deserved or of the harm it did to our soul, or better, because we offended a Father so infinitely good and great. If we truly regret, we will also be firmly determined not to do the same thing again and to do something special to make up for the offence.

           Great as the regret may be, it is not enough to be forgiven, because only the one offended can forgive, and as long as He does not, one is not forgiven. God never refuses to forgive the one who sincerely regrets his wrongs, as men do, at times; but even with God, it is necessary to ask to be forgiven. Although Judas regretted his treason and even tried to annul it by bringing back the price of his betrayal, he was not forgiven because he did not ask for forgiveness. Had he asked, he would have been forgiven; but he was too proud to ask.

          We cannot ask God Himself to forgive us, because he entrusted all forgiveness to Jesus: "The Father does not judge any man, but all judgment He has given to the Son, that all men may honor the Son even as they honor the Father" (John 5:22-23). It would be vain to try to confess directly to God. He would be offended because, "He who does not honor the Son, does not honor the Father, who sent him" (John 5:23).

            But neither can we go directly to Jesus to be forgiven, since He appointed the Apostles to continue His mission, especially His mission of forgiveness, in one of the apparitions after the Resurrection: "Peace be to you! As the Father has sent me, I also sent you." When he had said this, he breathed upon them and said to them: "Receive the Holy Spirit; whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained" (John 20:22-23). Because the mission of the Apostles was to continue "even to the consummation of the world" (Mt. 28:20), they appointed successors to carry on this mission of forgiveness.

            This, then, is the reason why one must have recourse to the sacrament of Penance to obtain forgiveness, and also the reason why the Church has made it a law to receive it at least once a year. If, however, reception were impossible, at least immediately, and one would sincerely regret his sins with the firm intention to receive the sacrament, his sins would be forgiven, but the obligation would remain to confess them, for confession is necessary in order to receive the sacrament. The necessity of receiving the sacrament to be forgiven and the necessity of confessing one's sins to receive the sacrament are two different things. Although the Council of Trent defined as an article of faith the necessity of both, some people do not seem to be aware of it, when they advocate collective absolution without confession.

              Confession is so necessary for the reception of the sacrament that, when collective absolution is allowed, in some urgent cases, those who receive it must not only regret their sins but also intend to confess them later on, even if already forgiven; and, if they participated in a collective celebration of Penance in order to avoid confession, the absolution would be invalid for them, and their sins would not be forgiven. The same conditions are required for the validity of the absolution given to an unconscious person: contrition and the desire to receive the sacrament and to confess; the obligation remains to accuse the sins thus forgiven if the person recovers.

              What makes confession so necessary for the reception of the sacrament of Penance is the mission entrusted by Jesus to the Apostles. He did not give them the power to forgive sins indiscriminately: "Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained" (John 20:23).

            How could it be otherwise? God, Himself does not always forgive and He cannot unless we regret having offended Him. The priest, therefore, must judge, whether he can forgive or must refuse pardon; and he cannot make that judgment unless he knows what sins were committed and what the disposition of the penitent is. Because he cannot read as Jesus could the conscience and the heart of the penitent, he has no other means of knowing, apart from his confession.

             In the administration of Penance, the priest, apart from his duty to God not to forgive when God does not forgive, has also a duty to the Church, whom he represents. Saint Paul reminds the Corinthians of their obligation "not to associate with one who is called a brother if he is immoral, or covetous, or an idolater, or evil-tongued, or a drunkard, or greedy... Expel the wicked man from your midst" (I Cor. 5:11-13). Because, as he repeats, "a bit of leaven corrupts all the dough" (Cor. 5:6; Gal 5:9). The priest, therefore, cannot give wholesale absolutions and admit everybody to Communion without knowing from personal confession whether they may be allowed to receive or not. This is why the decree on the new rite of Penance states very clearly: "Individual, integral confession and absolution remain the only ordinary way for the faithful to reconcile themselves with God and the Church unless physical or moral impossibility excuses from this kind of confession" (N. 31).

             So, when so-called liturgical experts tell us that the ideal and normal way of reconciliation should be collective absolution, they not only contradict directly this decree, but they reject implicitly the definitions of the Council of Trent on the necessity of confession.

              Let us therefore realize that the first step in the spiritual life, the first and necessary means of purification is a humble and sincere confession of all serious sins, inspired by a sincere regret and accompanied by a firm resolution to avoid them, to keep away from the occasions of sin and to make reparation of the offense to God, and of the harm done to others through injustice or scandal.

          To keep away from confession because it is hard, means to deprive oneself of God's mercy; to remain in a constant danger of eternal damnation; to lose all the merit of all that one does or suffers, and all the graces one could draw from the sacraments; to deprive oneself of the deep peace coming from a good confession; trying perhaps to find it instead through a psychologist, who will demand not only one, but, many and much more detailed confessions, and charge a stiff fee for very uncertain results.

            Because too many neglect this wonderful offer of forgiveness, which is the sacrament of Penance, and might live in the state of mortal sin for months and even years and lead a life barren of all merit, the Church made it a law for all Catholics to go to confession at least once a year at Eastertime. Let us heed this invitation to purify our souls by a sincere confession.

May 12, 2019

           Our God is a God of order. Hence, that means that there is an order to the universe — an order by which we even organize our lives. We put our lives in order either instinctively or by means of the revealed teachings of the Church. In addition, if those lives are not lived in this order, by not living with God, then we will suffer the consequences.

          Now, where does this order come from? It comes from the very nature of God who speaks a Word into the void from His own Being—reflecting His own Being—and He brings the universe into being. The first words in the Gospel of St. John are: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” That Word is the Son of God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, through whom the world came into being. The whole universe is patterned after God. And in this sense, there is a way that the universe exists and a way that we must be in the universe. The universe cannot be other than what it truly is. People often think that the more science discovers about the universe, the less we believe about God. However, it is quite the contrary. The universe, as we learn more of its laws and complexity, the more we find God and the more we discern His hand of creation, His constant Presence. The universe and everything in it is good, and it will always be good because it springs from the good being of God.

          Things are not intrinsically good because God declares them to be good, but because they correspond to the very being of God Himself. For example, when we see something beautiful, we are delighted because it corresponds to the beauty of God; it helps us to understand our world and Him who made it. When we experience something that is happy, we are glad because we know that it is good for us and will help us fulfill our lives. When we experience love and loyalty, faithfulness and permanence in our homes between fathers and mothers, it helps us to understand life and know how precious it is. When our world and our life are like God, then that life is happy and whole and full of life, and even holy. We know this by instinct and by revealed teaching and by experience. Everything reflects the being and order of God—our lives, our bodies, our cells, our families, our relationships. Our life and our way of life is either like God and therefore lovely and lively or it is without God and is disastrous and deadly.

          Wherever there are tears and hardship and heartache, where there is violence and crime, poverty and hunger or even sickness, where there is disloyalty and betrayal and selfishness and the pursuit of luxury, it is precisely because there is no God and no order. Where our life is off, or skewed, or broken, it is because it is outside the order and being of God.

          We see a constant borage of murders and robberies and terrorist acts of violence in our streets and communities. These examples of violence and mass murders are not unrelated. They spring from the same deadly source that touches all of us and influences all of us. And that of course is our common culture of no-god.

            Now when I say culture, I mean that which our lives revolve around, that with which we are concerned and busy, that which interests us and drives us and about which we think and move and have our being. And if our culture (what we are interested in) does not contain God in any meaningful way, and falls down in worship before that which is twisted, perverse, deadly, dark and evil, then there will be some among us who will act out that culture. To the degree that our lives are ungodly, then to that degree will those lives be disordered, broken, and hurtful.

            We can see that our modern, secular culture has spent years, decades, creating a way of life that does not involve God or God’s laws. Moreover, we are proud of it. We are Americans, and we are proud not to let religion have a say in how we do things. We make every effort to separate faith from policy — religion from the country—we celebrate this Great Divorce as the very thing which makes us so wonderful and exceptional.

             We have separated our public and political and artistic lives from God, and we have therefore created a climate and culture where God is not present. Thus neither does His order prevail. Is it any wonder that it all continues to collapse around us … our families, our churches, our neighborhoods? If there is no God, if He does not count, if He means nothing to the way we live our lives, then there is no order; and life becomes so cheap (because there is nothing to give it value) that you simply eliminate it when it causes you inconvenience. Without regret, without guilt, whoever is in your way can be swatted down. If there is no God, then there is no order and life is fragile and disposable.

              So what do we do? We live here in this godless culture; we did not ask for all this murder and mayhem but we have it. So what do we do? Well, first of all, we cannot cooperate with it any longer. We cannot live our lives like the rest of them anymore. We have to be different and our lives have to be different, significantly different. We cannot say to our children or grandchildren “Well, it is ok not to go to Mass.” We cannot say:” Well maybe we don’t have to eat supper together tonight.” We cannot say, “Well just a little screen violence is allowed.” We cannot say, “Well a little texting at supper is fine.” We cannot be part of this disordered culture.

              If we cannot change it, we are going to have to protect ourselves from it by praying, by going to Mass, by assiduously refusing to get involved in its music and media and TV and cinema. We need to limit the time we spend with all the silly social communications where we have thousands of anonymous friends to whom we communicate nothing of any substance.

                We can no longer be complicit in the attitudes and behavior of a culture that has no God–for it has no order and it will spread its disorder into all our hearts and its fog into all our minds. And all that culture can do is kill! In the wake of all the violence in our city, we must understand that our God is a good God who creates order in our lives and therefore happiness and fulfillment. Moreover, anything less than God is well…deadly.

May 5, 2019

           October is the month of the Most Holy Rosary; November, the month to pray for the faithful departed; June we immerse ourselves in the ocean of mercy of the Sacred Heart of Jesus; July we praise and worship the Precious Blood of Jesus, the price of our salvation. May is the month of Mary. Mary is the Daughter of God the Father, the Mother of God the Son and the Mystical Spouse of the Holy Spirit; she is the Queen of the angels, saints, and of heaven and earth. In addition, St. Louis de Montfort acclaims her as the Queen of all hearts and God’s masterpiece of creation.

           The saints acclaim in powerful, inspired, and often poetic terms the glories of the Blessed Virgin Mary. What might be some ways that we can manifest our love and devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary in her month–the month of Mary? Here are ten suggestions:

1. Consecration

          The first gesture we should do every morning is prayer—a prayer of consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Start the day right through Mary! St. Mother Teresa moved by great love for Mary said: “Mary, give me your heart: so beautiful, so pure so immaculate; your Heart so full of love and humility that I May be able to receive Jesus in the Bread of Life and love Him as you love Him and serve Him in the distressing guise of the poor.”

2.  Angelus/Regina Caeli 

          Traditionally this prayer is prayed at noon, but it can be prayed at any time. Why not pray it three times a day—at 9:00 am, 12 noon, and 6:00 pm. By doing this we will be sanctifying the morning hours, the afternoon hours, and the evening hours through the holy and sweet presence of Mary. These Marian prayers call to mind Mary’s key presence in the Mysteries of our salvation—the Incarnation, Passion, death and Resurrection of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ! The Cure of Ars, St. John Vianney, reminds us of the constant presence and action of Mary in our lives: “Only after the Last Judgment will Mary get any rest; from now until then, she is too busy with her children. To serve the Queen of Heaven is to reign there, and to live under her commands is more than to govern.”

3. Consecrate the Home and Family to the Immaculate Heart of Mary

           Prepare for the consecration by a nine-day novena of Rosaries and prayers and culminate with the priest or deacon blessing the image as well as the home and family members. From this blessing and consecration, God the Father will shower a deluge of blessings upon you and every member in your family.

4. Consecration of the Self 

          Go through the formal process of consecration of your whole being to Jesus through Mary. You can choose various forms: Kolbe, or St. Louis de Montfort, or the modern one done by Father Michael Gaitely—33 Days to Morning Glory. This consecration could change your whole life in a dramatic way. If you have already done the consecration, then you can renew it every year and go deeper into the infinite reservoir of the love of God brought to us through the intercession of Mary! Mary has power over us in ways that go way beyond our wildest imagination. St. Louis de Montfort reminds us: “For God, having given power over His only-begotten and natural Son, also gave power over His adopted children—not only what concerns the body which would be of little account—but also in what concerns the soul.”

5. Imitate Mary

          If we truly love somebody, then we want to get to know them better, follow them more closely, and imitate their good qualities that we call virtues. St. Louis de Montfort, in his classic True Devotion to Mary, gives us a list of the ten principal virtues of Mary. Imitate them and you will be on the Highway to holiness. Here they are: Her deep humility, lively faith, blind obedience, unceasing prayer, constant self-denial, surpassing purity, ardent love, heroic patience, angelic kindness, and heavenly wisdom! St. Louis teaches us: “The greatest saints, those richest in grace and virtue will be the most assiduous in praying to the most Blessed Virgin, looking up to her as the perfect model to imitate and as a powerful helper to assist them.”

6. Temptations? Call on Mary

          Our life is a constant combat zone, until death! We should not fight alone against the devil, the flesh, and the world. Rather, in the heat of temptation, when all seems to be lost, call upon the Holy Name of Mary; pray the Hail Mary! If done, all the powers of hell will be vanquished. Mary is the “General in the army.” At her command the enemies—the evil spirits—take to flight, vanish, and are defeated! St. Francis de Sales was tempted to despair and through the prayer to Mary, “Memorare” (attributed to St. Bernard) the temptation was conquered. St. Anthony Mary Claret was tempted fiercely to give in to a temptation against purity. It was through his fervent prayers to Mary that the devil of impurity was expelled and young Anthony was given special graces to live chastity, to found a Religious Order, preach constantly, and write many books that did immense good. As St. Bonaventure asserts: “Men do not fear a powerful hostile army as the powers of hell fear the name and protection of Mary.”

7. Mary and the Liturgical Year 

            Get to know the powerful presence of Mary in the Mystical Body of Christ, which is the Church. Especially get to know Mary’s presence in the Liturgical Year—the Masses. The end purpose of Holy Mass is to praise and worship God the Father, through the offering of God the Son and through the power of the Holy Spirit. However, Mary has a special place in the Liturgical Year. Mary is the Mother of God, the Mother of the Church, and she is our Mother in the order of grace! Read and meditate attentively on the Apostolic Letter of Pope Paul VI Marialis Cultus, which clearly explains the presence of Mary in the Liturgical calendar. This is a spiritual masterpiece. It is a must for your reading!

8. Reading on Mary

            For a well-formed and integral Mariology, we should cultivate both doctrine and devotion. Doctrine without devotion can be arid and dry. Whereas, devotion without doctrine can easily degenerate into mere sentimentalism! Why not read the Apostolic Letter of Saint John Paul II: Blessed Virgin Mary and the Rosary. This spiritual gem combines both solid Catholic doctrine (Mariology) with tender love and devotion to Mary. The saintly Pope exhorts the entire world to contemplate the face of Jesus through the eyes and heart of Mary. Mary is the quickest, shortest, easiest, and most efficacious path to Jesus.

9. Marian Apostle

            Become an ardent, fervent, and passionate Apostle of Mary. One of the most famous modern Marian saints is Saint Maximilian Kolbe. His love for Mary could not be contained. One of the apostolic methods that Kolbe used was to spread devotion to the Immaculata by means of the Miraculous Medal (Medal of the Immaculate Conception). Any opportunity that would arise, St. Maximilian would give, free of charge, the medal to an individual. He called these “spiritual bullets.” Then he would explain the Marian, catechetical meaning of this explosive medal. The medal is called “Miraculous” for the simple reason that many miracles have been attributed to those who use it with great faith and love and trust in the intercession of Mary. Why not become a modern Marian apostle today, following in the footsteps of Kolbe? This great Marian saint asserted with conviction: “The Immaculate alone has from God the promise of victory over Satan. She seeks souls that will consecrate themselves entirely to her, that will become in her hands forceful instruments for the defeat of Satan and the spread of God’s kingdom.”

10. The Most Holy Rosary

          In Fatima, Our Lady appeared six times to the Shepherd children—Lucia, Jacinta, and Francisco. In each and every apparition, Our Lady insisted upon the praying of the most Holy Rosary. St. John Paul II in his document on the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Rosary insisted, pleaded, that the whole world prays the Holy Rosary for the salvation of the family and for world peace. The famous Rosary priest, Father Patrick Peyton put it concisely: “The family that prays together stays together” and “A world at prayer is a world at peace.” Why not obey the new saint—Saint John Paul II? Why not obey the Mother of God, Our Lady of Fatima’s requests? If done, the family will be saved and there will be a peace that the human heart so longs for.