Philip Neri was a priest who died at the end of May in 1595, and today, May 26th, is the day the Church Universal celebrates his memorial. Philip was a classic Saint of that Century, exposed to great riches, and instead walked away, founded a Religious community, and chose a life of Saintly poverty.
Augustine, the great Saint of the Church who lives so many centuries earlier is quoted in today’s reading from the Office of Readings on the occasion of Philip’s feast. He says;
“Let joy in the Lord prevail, then, until joy in the world is no more. Let joy in the Lord go on increasing; let joy in the world go on decreasing until it is no more. That is said, not because we are not to rejoice while we are in this world, but in order that, even while we are still in this world, we may already rejoice in the Lord.
You may object; I am in the world; if I rejoice I certainly rejoice where I am. What is this? Do you mean that because you are in the world you are not in the Lord? Listen again to the Apostle speaking now to the Athenians; in the Acts of the Apostles he says this of God and the Lord our creator: In Him we live and move and have our being. If he is everywhere, where is he not?”
I find Augustine’s words of great interest, because when we look at Saints like Philip Neri, their story implies that there is such perfect holiness in walking away from everything, from all the riches and “glories” of the world, and living in poverty for the Lord is the way to go.
As I sit, I type these words on my Laptop which is not technically mine yet, as Rent-A-Center still is the formal owner. That laptop sits on a stand I bought at Walmart years ago, which had to be re-assembled due to its age twice. I sit in my Apartment on the West Side of Providence, whose expenses I share with a roommate because I can’t afford it on my own.
I am not crying poverty by any means, I am simply pointing out the reality of a situation that most people I know share. The specifics may be different, the details are never the same, but I don’t know any rich people. In 2011 the reality of walking away from everything and living a life dedicated solely to Christ and His works in such a publicly dramatic way is next to impossible. The last time that I saw a nun in her habit in public, she was standing at the next teller in the bank. I couldn’t help but over hear her conversation; “Well I was confused because when I checked the account online…”
My friends these are not bad or sinful things. The reality of it is we live in a different world than that of Philip Neri. When Christ comes again in all His glory, I’m sure that someone will snap a picture of it with their IPhone, and post it to Facebook the moment it happens. I doubt the Lord will warn us of His coming via Twitter, but He will certainly return to find a world that is very different than the one He left. Those things that used to mark ones riches are now a sign of poverty. I remember in Middle School we all used to love going over this one friend of mine’s house because he had dial-up Internet, and had access to a world some of us did not. If that was still his method of connecting to the web, he would live in the Stone Age by our contemporary analysis.
There is nothing sinful about “the world”. Augustine talks in the passage above about “joy in the world” vs. “joy in the Lord”. What Augustine is talking about is a state of mind, an awareness, not the measure (or lack thereof) of things we possess. If poverty were the key to holiness, then the Church would not spend so much time and energy trying to improve the lives of those for whom poverty is a daily experience.
As a “worker Priest” this passage from Augustine resonates deeply with me. I work in the modern world, I have a career, granted non-profit work is not an ambition driven line of work, but it’s a career none the less. I’d like to go on a nice vacation every year. I’d like to save some money and drive a nice car one day. I like having a Blackberry that connects me to everything with the touch of a button. I worry about how I look, and I enjoy all the same pleasures as anyone else. Yet I am also a Catholic Priest. I have been Ordained through the ministry of the Church to be a shepherd to the sheep the Lord sends me. I celebrate the Sacraments of the Church, making Christ a real and present reality in the daily lives of those who seek them. By virtue of my Ordination, I am called to find my joy not in the world, but in the Lord. How does one live in both realities?
Augustine hits the nail on the head; “In the Lord we live and move and have our being.” It is the generosity of the Lord that makes any of the pleasures of this world possible. The worker Priest, and indeed any Christian who lives in the contemporary world, are both called to remember this concept in our daily lives. In the Rite of Christian Burial there is a line that reads, “We give thanks for the blessings you have bestowed upon N in this life, they are signs to us of your goodness and of our fellowship with all the Saints in Christ”.
If my “joy” in this life is in the Lord; then that means that as I live my daily life in the world, it is pointing to Christ. It means that when I go to work in the morning, and do the best job that I can, I am doing the Lord’s work; because I am a Christian, and my joy is in Him. If I drive a nice car to go there, then that means I am using that car to do his work. When we find success, we give thanks to God, as it is HIS success. The sexual attraction we feel towards our partner is a sign to us of God’s goodness, not just a human urge that we are trying to satisfy.
Two people could both have all the same worldly things. They could both have the same success, the same nice car, equally impressive homes with equally attractive partners. They could go on the same refreshing vacations, and eat at the same lavish restaurants. However, if one finds their joy in the Lord, and one finds their joy in the world, those two people are in fact very different at their core.
To be a good Christian is not to be an extremist, it’s to remember that we look at the world through Christ’s eyes, and just as He accepted nothing to His own credit, we do not either. So let us truly live those words that someone else will pray on our behalf on the day we are laid to rest. Let us give thanks for the blessings God has bestowed on us in this life; they are signs to us of His goodness, and of our fellowship with all the Saints in Christ.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Thirty
It’s my birthday month. A month that typically when I sit to put my thoughts together into a Blog, the words come freely, and oh so naturally. This year though, it’s different. It doesn’t happen quite as easily as usual, and I think it’s because this year, my birthday marks something different for me.
My attitude this time of year is usually one where I look back at the year that has passed, and evaluate, as I look forward to what is to come…almost my own personal New Years Eve. Usually I realize that the year that has passed was no different than the year before, and I vow to myself to make the one that is to come so much different.
This year has certainly been very different then all the rest. I started it off by being Ordained a Priest. I began this year of my life by bringing to fulfillment a journey that began over ten years ago. The beauty of the mystery of life is that the fulfillment of one journey is always just the first steps of another. In the last year I have opened a Parish, dove full steam ahead into my ministry, changed into a “day job” that is much more cohesive with the rest of my life, and above all else, and perhaps most remarkable, I sobered up. That’s no joke of a year!
All these things however really are meaningless, if I haven’t learned something from all of it. That’s the real question, what lessons did I learn this year?
I learned about relationships. I learned that it is the highest form of arrogance to think that we have control over how others feel about us. I learned that friendship is not when someone will sit with you at a bar when life feels like its falling apart…rather a friend is the person who reminds you of your worth when you feel worthless, who loves you when you don’t deserve it, and who forgives you when you realize that you were wrong.
I learned about people. I learned that some people can only find their own sense of worth when they look for it in a subjective rather than an objective way; when being in a better place then someone else equals being in a good place. As a result, I’ve learned that judging myself by the terms of others will never yield success.
I learned about money. I learned that when we do something right the first time around, it pays off in the future in ways we never get to see…unless we do it wrong, in which case it ends up exponentially more expensive. I’ve learned that stressing over money will not make more of it, nor will it decrease the demand of it from others.
I learned about leadership. I learned that being a good means living in good balance. Rather than allowing the many passions of life to motivate and drive us, it’s when we keep them all in a healthy balance that we become solid leaders.
I learned about asking for help. I learned that not being ashamed to ask for help, and admit our weakness is the highest form of love and respect that we can show to another person. I also learned that the true friend is rarely who we expect, and in those moments the true value and meaning of that word comes to glaringly clear definition.
In all of these things I learned about God. I learned that God really is as amazing as I preach that He is. I learned that He can do awesome things when I shut up and get out of His way. One Sunday in early December I looked at the Host at Mass and confided in God a secret: I admitted that I needed help. I admitted that I had an alcohol problem, and I couldn’t deal with it alone. A week later I found myself in rehab, and came home to a world that had taken nothing away from me, in fact it was laid out in front of me in naked honesty, and the parts of it that mattered was eagerly waiting to see if I would be able to do all the things it had always suspected I was capable of. I also found that same God who proved Himself by answering my silent scream for help, waiting to continue to prove Himself every step of the way, as He always had, I just hadn’t always seen Him.
So now I find myself turning 30. When we are kids we can’t wait to be adults. When we are teenagers we look forward to turning 18, when we are 18 we can’t wait to be 21, when we turn 21 we look forward to every birthday between 21 and 25 because with each one we move a step away from being “just 21”. We turn 25, and view it as the height of our youth in a way. Life is just beginning, our school lives are older, the fun is being had, all while we are learning about the correlation between how we treat our bodies, and how we look. At that juncture we look at 30, and expect that when that page of the calendar turns, life will be right where it should be.
So here I am about to turn that page, and I can’t help but wonder what my 18 year old self would think if he saw me now. If that tall, lanky, awkward boy with a full head of hair, could look at me face to face would he smile with approval, or shake his head in disappointment. I don’t know that he would even recognize me. He would see a man who has traveled all over this country and others. In my eyes he would see 12 years worth of hurt, pain, and rejection. He would see the tracks of 12 years of tears. He would see creases in my face from 12 years of smiles, and the hand prints of soooo many people on my back who have embraced me in love. The most unrecognizable thing he would find is that the only smile this person cares about is the one he sees when he looks in the mirror, because it means that he was able to make the focal point something other then himself.
All in all, I have to say I feel quite proud of the man who crosses the threshold out of his twenties and into his thirties. He does so holding on tightly to the lessons he’s learned and eager for those that are to come. I walk into this birthday stone sober, resolved, happy, and walking with the companion I have found in Christ, and hoping to share His company with whoever would like to join us in this amazing journey that was intended for many more than just the two of us.
My attitude this time of year is usually one where I look back at the year that has passed, and evaluate, as I look forward to what is to come…almost my own personal New Years Eve. Usually I realize that the year that has passed was no different than the year before, and I vow to myself to make the one that is to come so much different.
This year has certainly been very different then all the rest. I started it off by being Ordained a Priest. I began this year of my life by bringing to fulfillment a journey that began over ten years ago. The beauty of the mystery of life is that the fulfillment of one journey is always just the first steps of another. In the last year I have opened a Parish, dove full steam ahead into my ministry, changed into a “day job” that is much more cohesive with the rest of my life, and above all else, and perhaps most remarkable, I sobered up. That’s no joke of a year!
All these things however really are meaningless, if I haven’t learned something from all of it. That’s the real question, what lessons did I learn this year?
I learned about relationships. I learned that it is the highest form of arrogance to think that we have control over how others feel about us. I learned that friendship is not when someone will sit with you at a bar when life feels like its falling apart…rather a friend is the person who reminds you of your worth when you feel worthless, who loves you when you don’t deserve it, and who forgives you when you realize that you were wrong.
I learned about people. I learned that some people can only find their own sense of worth when they look for it in a subjective rather than an objective way; when being in a better place then someone else equals being in a good place. As a result, I’ve learned that judging myself by the terms of others will never yield success.
I learned about money. I learned that when we do something right the first time around, it pays off in the future in ways we never get to see…unless we do it wrong, in which case it ends up exponentially more expensive. I’ve learned that stressing over money will not make more of it, nor will it decrease the demand of it from others.
I learned about leadership. I learned that being a good means living in good balance. Rather than allowing the many passions of life to motivate and drive us, it’s when we keep them all in a healthy balance that we become solid leaders.
I learned about asking for help. I learned that not being ashamed to ask for help, and admit our weakness is the highest form of love and respect that we can show to another person. I also learned that the true friend is rarely who we expect, and in those moments the true value and meaning of that word comes to glaringly clear definition.
In all of these things I learned about God. I learned that God really is as amazing as I preach that He is. I learned that He can do awesome things when I shut up and get out of His way. One Sunday in early December I looked at the Host at Mass and confided in God a secret: I admitted that I needed help. I admitted that I had an alcohol problem, and I couldn’t deal with it alone. A week later I found myself in rehab, and came home to a world that had taken nothing away from me, in fact it was laid out in front of me in naked honesty, and the parts of it that mattered was eagerly waiting to see if I would be able to do all the things it had always suspected I was capable of. I also found that same God who proved Himself by answering my silent scream for help, waiting to continue to prove Himself every step of the way, as He always had, I just hadn’t always seen Him.
So now I find myself turning 30. When we are kids we can’t wait to be adults. When we are teenagers we look forward to turning 18, when we are 18 we can’t wait to be 21, when we turn 21 we look forward to every birthday between 21 and 25 because with each one we move a step away from being “just 21”. We turn 25, and view it as the height of our youth in a way. Life is just beginning, our school lives are older, the fun is being had, all while we are learning about the correlation between how we treat our bodies, and how we look. At that juncture we look at 30, and expect that when that page of the calendar turns, life will be right where it should be.
So here I am about to turn that page, and I can’t help but wonder what my 18 year old self would think if he saw me now. If that tall, lanky, awkward boy with a full head of hair, could look at me face to face would he smile with approval, or shake his head in disappointment. I don’t know that he would even recognize me. He would see a man who has traveled all over this country and others. In my eyes he would see 12 years worth of hurt, pain, and rejection. He would see the tracks of 12 years of tears. He would see creases in my face from 12 years of smiles, and the hand prints of soooo many people on my back who have embraced me in love. The most unrecognizable thing he would find is that the only smile this person cares about is the one he sees when he looks in the mirror, because it means that he was able to make the focal point something other then himself.
All in all, I have to say I feel quite proud of the man who crosses the threshold out of his twenties and into his thirties. He does so holding on tightly to the lessons he’s learned and eager for those that are to come. I walk into this birthday stone sober, resolved, happy, and walking with the companion I have found in Christ, and hoping to share His company with whoever would like to join us in this amazing journey that was intended for many more than just the two of us.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Irish Beer, a Shot of Whiskey, and Unrealized Dreams
This is a very exciting weekend for those who are steeped in cultural pride. Saint Patrick’s Day was today, followed by a day to recover, and the next day is Saint Joseph’s Day. On the 17th everyone is Irish, and on the 19th everyone is Italian, the irony is, neither Saint was of the heritage that celebrates them with such pride.
Both men were very unassuming, and ironically little fact is known about either of them. Much of what we do know is surrounded by tradition and legend. We uphold that both men were motivated by dreams. Joseph, according to Sacred Scripture, was warned by an Angel in a dream to take the Christ Child, and His mother Mary from Bethlehem, and flee to the land of Egypt when Herod ordered the infamous Massacre of the Innocents. After hiding in Egypt, he was again guided by an Angel in a dream to take the family, and return to Nazareth when the plight was over. Patrick, according to legend, was visited by an Angel in a dream while he was in captivity in Ireland, after being torn from his home land of Britain. He was told that it was time for him to leave Ireland so he fled back to Britain, where he remained until returning to Ireland, again guided by an Angel, as a missionary. Two men, both guided by a dream; Joseph’s dream protected Christ from harm so that He could go to His people, Patrick’s dream led him to find Christ for himself, before bringing Him to the people of Ireland.
We are all moved by dreams. We all have dreams. Not the kind that are illustrated with the presence of angels, and messages from the divine however. We have dreams that are the construct of hopes for future accomplishments. We have dreams of finding “the one” with whom we will spend the rest of our lives. We have dreams that the one we have found is “the one”. We have dreams of buying property, paying off those debts, driving that nice car, and living in that perfect home. We also know what its like to have dreams dashed before our eyes. That’s what makes them dreams.
What we sometimes fail to realize however is the amazing blessings that sometimes come with those dreams seemingly falling to pieces. The lessons we learn along the way help make us who we are, weather we achieve those dreams or not. I’m sure Joseph and Patrick both had dreams that were different from the ones that God gave them that were decorated with Angels, and messages of living life in flight. Joseph was a Carpenter, who in all likelihood dreamt of building a successful career out of his trade, and making a quiet peaceful home for himself and his wife Mary. I’m sure that the adventures described to us in the early days of the Gospel were not in his original plans. Likewise Patrick I am sure had dreams of his own. He was the product of an affluent family, who seemingly had no solid religious background. His father was a Catholic Deacon, but history tells us that was likely due to tax incentives and not so much religious conviction. His years of imprisonment after the Irish Raids on Britain were certainly not in his original plans, nor were his later years as a Missionary his original life goals.
The point is, sometimes the dreams that God has in mind for us are different then the ones we would have for ourselves. I have certainly seen that in my own life. The life I have now is certainly not the one of which I dreamed while growing up. When I was in High School and looking forward to graduating and moving on to Seminary I dreamt of an Ordination day in the Cathedral at 25. I dreamt about the challenges of a Celibate life, and concerns like running a large Parish, with a school, and being a part of the lives of a large Congregation of Parishioners.
God certainly did have other plans. Instead I find myself as a “working Priest” with a Parish and a secular career. My parish has no school, nor is it large, nor does it sit on an endowment. Instead we are a small community of faith, united in our belief that Jesus Christ came for all of us, and we work together everyday towards the coming of His Kingdom. I’m involved in the lives of LGBTQ youth, who everyday teach me lessons about life and love that I could never learn in a classroom. I find myself involved in things like Marriage Equality, and other forms of advocacy that will someday impact the lives of people who I will never even meet. My life is so full, so joyful, so happy, and to be honest. . . I cant imagine it any other way.
It’s certainly a lesson learned on my part. We can have as many hopes and dreams as we want, but we wont find happiness until we have God’s dream, and find the life that He is calling us to! Unlike Patrick and Joseph the odds of that dream being painted in so clear a picture as it was for them are slim. The angels of God’s dream for us comes in the form of human beings, apparent failures and disappointments, heartbreak, and trials. When we are going through these experiences they couldn’t seem anything less like a dream, but rather more like nightmares. When they have passed though, and we look back on life’s incredible journey we can smile with confidence, and know that in all of that God was there, is there, and continues to be there, even though we may not see Him.
So let’s all keep having those dreams. Let’s all keep working towards those goals, great jobs, nice cars, and fancy homes that we enjoy in the details of our imaginations. While we are trying to achieve them, God will do what He has to do to show us the way to what He has in mind, and what we will find is happiness, joy, and fulfillment beyond all telling.
The last part of the popular Serenity Prayer is the part least known by most, yet the most powerful;
“Living one day at a time;
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardship as the pathway to peace.
Taking a Jesus did this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will;
that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next.”
Both men were very unassuming, and ironically little fact is known about either of them. Much of what we do know is surrounded by tradition and legend. We uphold that both men were motivated by dreams. Joseph, according to Sacred Scripture, was warned by an Angel in a dream to take the Christ Child, and His mother Mary from Bethlehem, and flee to the land of Egypt when Herod ordered the infamous Massacre of the Innocents. After hiding in Egypt, he was again guided by an Angel in a dream to take the family, and return to Nazareth when the plight was over. Patrick, according to legend, was visited by an Angel in a dream while he was in captivity in Ireland, after being torn from his home land of Britain. He was told that it was time for him to leave Ireland so he fled back to Britain, where he remained until returning to Ireland, again guided by an Angel, as a missionary. Two men, both guided by a dream; Joseph’s dream protected Christ from harm so that He could go to His people, Patrick’s dream led him to find Christ for himself, before bringing Him to the people of Ireland.
We are all moved by dreams. We all have dreams. Not the kind that are illustrated with the presence of angels, and messages from the divine however. We have dreams that are the construct of hopes for future accomplishments. We have dreams of finding “the one” with whom we will spend the rest of our lives. We have dreams that the one we have found is “the one”. We have dreams of buying property, paying off those debts, driving that nice car, and living in that perfect home. We also know what its like to have dreams dashed before our eyes. That’s what makes them dreams.
What we sometimes fail to realize however is the amazing blessings that sometimes come with those dreams seemingly falling to pieces. The lessons we learn along the way help make us who we are, weather we achieve those dreams or not. I’m sure Joseph and Patrick both had dreams that were different from the ones that God gave them that were decorated with Angels, and messages of living life in flight. Joseph was a Carpenter, who in all likelihood dreamt of building a successful career out of his trade, and making a quiet peaceful home for himself and his wife Mary. I’m sure that the adventures described to us in the early days of the Gospel were not in his original plans. Likewise Patrick I am sure had dreams of his own. He was the product of an affluent family, who seemingly had no solid religious background. His father was a Catholic Deacon, but history tells us that was likely due to tax incentives and not so much religious conviction. His years of imprisonment after the Irish Raids on Britain were certainly not in his original plans, nor were his later years as a Missionary his original life goals.
The point is, sometimes the dreams that God has in mind for us are different then the ones we would have for ourselves. I have certainly seen that in my own life. The life I have now is certainly not the one of which I dreamed while growing up. When I was in High School and looking forward to graduating and moving on to Seminary I dreamt of an Ordination day in the Cathedral at 25. I dreamt about the challenges of a Celibate life, and concerns like running a large Parish, with a school, and being a part of the lives of a large Congregation of Parishioners.
God certainly did have other plans. Instead I find myself as a “working Priest” with a Parish and a secular career. My parish has no school, nor is it large, nor does it sit on an endowment. Instead we are a small community of faith, united in our belief that Jesus Christ came for all of us, and we work together everyday towards the coming of His Kingdom. I’m involved in the lives of LGBTQ youth, who everyday teach me lessons about life and love that I could never learn in a classroom. I find myself involved in things like Marriage Equality, and other forms of advocacy that will someday impact the lives of people who I will never even meet. My life is so full, so joyful, so happy, and to be honest. . . I cant imagine it any other way.
It’s certainly a lesson learned on my part. We can have as many hopes and dreams as we want, but we wont find happiness until we have God’s dream, and find the life that He is calling us to! Unlike Patrick and Joseph the odds of that dream being painted in so clear a picture as it was for them are slim. The angels of God’s dream for us comes in the form of human beings, apparent failures and disappointments, heartbreak, and trials. When we are going through these experiences they couldn’t seem anything less like a dream, but rather more like nightmares. When they have passed though, and we look back on life’s incredible journey we can smile with confidence, and know that in all of that God was there, is there, and continues to be there, even though we may not see Him.
So let’s all keep having those dreams. Let’s all keep working towards those goals, great jobs, nice cars, and fancy homes that we enjoy in the details of our imaginations. While we are trying to achieve them, God will do what He has to do to show us the way to what He has in mind, and what we will find is happiness, joy, and fulfillment beyond all telling.
The last part of the popular Serenity Prayer is the part least known by most, yet the most powerful;
“Living one day at a time;
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardship as the pathway to peace.
Taking a Jesus did this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will;
that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next.”
Monday, March 7, 2011
Ashes Are Universal
It’s almost here, once again: Lent is almost upon us. There is something about Lent that has always bore with it a negative tone. All that talk about sacrifice, penance, and conversion makes a person think, “gosh, am I really that bad?”
Maybe Lent isn’t about how “bad” we are, but about how much better we can be! Lent starts with Ash Wednesday, and good and faithful Christians throughout the world will go to Church, listen to readings that talk about how penance, sacrifice, and conversion is something that happens in the silence of our hearts and not on a street corner. Then they will have a cross traced in ashes on their forehead, and go out into the world living their daily lives…seems a bit contradictory.
Think about where the ashes come from though. Ashes are a result of a something being burned. They are the product, or the remains of a fire. God is so often represented through fire. The Holy Spirit is always shown as a Dove dispersing tongues of fire. At our Baptism, our parents are handed a lit candle, as a symbol of the light of Christ. At Christmas we see candles as a symbol of Jesus as the Light of the World that comes into the world to scatter the darkness. When these 40 days of Lent are over, we will reach Easter, and at the great Easter Vigil, the Church blesses the new fire.
So we begin the journey with ashes, and we end with fire. The ashes, the sign to the public that we have begun this journey towards Easter is a testimony not to filth and dirt, but rather the fire which produced them, the fire that we hope to have burning at full force by Easter.
Maybe the fire within us is starting to take a beating from the winds of daily life. Maybe its down to a flickering flame. Maybe the fire needs some kindle to get it roaring again, something to feed its hunger. Maybe it needs some “fresh air” as we know fire cannot burn without oxygen. Whatever the fire in your heart needs, use these 40 days of Lent to find it!
This week I also hit a landmark in my journey with Alcoholics Anonymous. If all goes according to plan, Friday will be my 90 mark. I cant help but look at my own life. These last 90 days have been spent thinking a lot about my life. After admitting that there is a problem, the journey and the work has only just begun. I’ve spent a lot of time looking inward, examining the pain that’s in there that I never really acknowledged. I’ve thought about how I took that pain and anger out in so many other ways, and on so many other targets. I thought about all the relationships of all kinds, opportunities, and potential growth that I managed to destroy by holding on so tightly to my addiction.
All however is not ashes. Just the opposite. The ashes that remain are a reminder to me of the fire I am working towards feeding. It’s encouragement to continue to coax that flickering flame so that it will burn brighter and brighter, and larger and larger. Through my life as a Priest I can only hope that flame will somehow spread into the hearts of others.
Going 90 days without a drink is like getting the ashes on your forehead. Its an external sign of what’s going on inside. It’s a physical expression of the fire that is burning stronger and stronger everyday. I feel like this year I finally figured out a little bit more of what this Lent stuff is all about. It’s not about me being that bad. I’m pretty good actually! I have a career I enjoy. I have healthy friendships with a diverse range of people, and those friendships are real. I am enjoying living life like I never have before. I am able to just roll my eyes when I see the immaturity and foolishness of people around me (rather then jumping in or leading it). I have a spiritual life that I can see growth in a little bit at a time. These are all things I didn’t have before, and if I did, I couldn’t see them.
However, Lent is an exciting time this year because I can see how much better I can be. I can see how much more I want to grow. I can see the things I want to let go of. The even more exciting part is, I am eager to see all those things God has in store that I haven’t yet seen for myself. I was chatting with someone the other day who said to me, “I’m so happy for you, you are finally getting yourself together”. Indeed I am, but Lent proves that “getting one’s self together” is not a one time event. In fact they have a word for the process; it’s “life”. The Church is good enough to give us a 40 day season to remind us all to not get comfortable where we are, or too proud - because we could be even better.
One of the ways I would always justify my drinking was by looking at the person who was way drunker then me, and take comfort in knowing that “that one has a problem”. I’m sure that many times I provided the same misleading and false comfort to someone else. The ashes we receive on Wednesday are a reminder to all of us, that the fire could burn a lot brighter inside of us. They are a reality check, that everyone of us is on this journey called “life” and we are all in the work of “getting ourselves together”. In a way none of us are further along on the journey then anyone else, that’s why those ashes are such a powerful statement - they are the same on everybody’s forehead.
Maybe Lent isn’t about how “bad” we are, but about how much better we can be! Lent starts with Ash Wednesday, and good and faithful Christians throughout the world will go to Church, listen to readings that talk about how penance, sacrifice, and conversion is something that happens in the silence of our hearts and not on a street corner. Then they will have a cross traced in ashes on their forehead, and go out into the world living their daily lives…seems a bit contradictory.
Think about where the ashes come from though. Ashes are a result of a something being burned. They are the product, or the remains of a fire. God is so often represented through fire. The Holy Spirit is always shown as a Dove dispersing tongues of fire. At our Baptism, our parents are handed a lit candle, as a symbol of the light of Christ. At Christmas we see candles as a symbol of Jesus as the Light of the World that comes into the world to scatter the darkness. When these 40 days of Lent are over, we will reach Easter, and at the great Easter Vigil, the Church blesses the new fire.
So we begin the journey with ashes, and we end with fire. The ashes, the sign to the public that we have begun this journey towards Easter is a testimony not to filth and dirt, but rather the fire which produced them, the fire that we hope to have burning at full force by Easter.
Maybe the fire within us is starting to take a beating from the winds of daily life. Maybe its down to a flickering flame. Maybe the fire needs some kindle to get it roaring again, something to feed its hunger. Maybe it needs some “fresh air” as we know fire cannot burn without oxygen. Whatever the fire in your heart needs, use these 40 days of Lent to find it!
This week I also hit a landmark in my journey with Alcoholics Anonymous. If all goes according to plan, Friday will be my 90 mark. I cant help but look at my own life. These last 90 days have been spent thinking a lot about my life. After admitting that there is a problem, the journey and the work has only just begun. I’ve spent a lot of time looking inward, examining the pain that’s in there that I never really acknowledged. I’ve thought about how I took that pain and anger out in so many other ways, and on so many other targets. I thought about all the relationships of all kinds, opportunities, and potential growth that I managed to destroy by holding on so tightly to my addiction.
All however is not ashes. Just the opposite. The ashes that remain are a reminder to me of the fire I am working towards feeding. It’s encouragement to continue to coax that flickering flame so that it will burn brighter and brighter, and larger and larger. Through my life as a Priest I can only hope that flame will somehow spread into the hearts of others.
Going 90 days without a drink is like getting the ashes on your forehead. Its an external sign of what’s going on inside. It’s a physical expression of the fire that is burning stronger and stronger everyday. I feel like this year I finally figured out a little bit more of what this Lent stuff is all about. It’s not about me being that bad. I’m pretty good actually! I have a career I enjoy. I have healthy friendships with a diverse range of people, and those friendships are real. I am enjoying living life like I never have before. I am able to just roll my eyes when I see the immaturity and foolishness of people around me (rather then jumping in or leading it). I have a spiritual life that I can see growth in a little bit at a time. These are all things I didn’t have before, and if I did, I couldn’t see them.
However, Lent is an exciting time this year because I can see how much better I can be. I can see how much more I want to grow. I can see the things I want to let go of. The even more exciting part is, I am eager to see all those things God has in store that I haven’t yet seen for myself. I was chatting with someone the other day who said to me, “I’m so happy for you, you are finally getting yourself together”. Indeed I am, but Lent proves that “getting one’s self together” is not a one time event. In fact they have a word for the process; it’s “life”. The Church is good enough to give us a 40 day season to remind us all to not get comfortable where we are, or too proud - because we could be even better.
One of the ways I would always justify my drinking was by looking at the person who was way drunker then me, and take comfort in knowing that “that one has a problem”. I’m sure that many times I provided the same misleading and false comfort to someone else. The ashes we receive on Wednesday are a reminder to all of us, that the fire could burn a lot brighter inside of us. They are a reality check, that everyone of us is on this journey called “life” and we are all in the work of “getting ourselves together”. In a way none of us are further along on the journey then anyone else, that’s why those ashes are such a powerful statement - they are the same on everybody’s forehead.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
My Name is David, and Im an Alcoholic
My name is David, and Im an alcoholic. As a Philosophy student and a Theologian I have spent many days and sleepless nights pondering the question, “Who am I”. Never before was the word “alcoholic” one that came leaping to mind. Never when I have been introduced anywhere, or included in my curriculum vitae has been, “Father David Martins, Alcoholic.” In recent weeks however, and now having come out of not only detox, but also rehab, I have faced the reality, that that is exactly what I am.
When I first came to terms with the fact that I am Gay, a large challenge was for me to remember that being gay was only a part of who I am, not who I am, or what I am. The same is true of my alcoholism. I suffer from a disease, the disease of addiction, but it is not all of who I am.
Over the years I can remember countless times sitting at a bar with a friend, and going drink for drink, and the next day the person would say to me, “Dave, do you think you have a problem?” I would always think, “What a hypocrite! If I had a problem, didn’t they too?
In hindsight its amazing how I defended and guarded this dirty secret of mine that I carried in my heart. I became friends with people who would readily join me in the campaign that I didn’t have a drinking problem, the other person did…they didn’t drink…that was their problem. I was always ready to point out, while belly up at a bar, how somebody else was “such a mess”. I even managed to develop a bond, made of liquor, among us faithful late night folks at the bar. Us few faithful disciples, who would even stay after the bar had closed and help clean, while earning a little shot before heading home. The reassurance we always maintained was that “at least I’m not as bad as so-and-so.”
This is how I know I am an addict, because I bought into all those comforting lies that addiction feeds us. I mastered the art of justifying my behavior. It didn’t effect my work, it didn’t effect the parish, it didn’t effect the work I was doing for Christ, so It couldn’t have been a problem. I would wind up at the end of the day sitting at a bar enjoying a “much deserved cocktail”. Was it a well deserved cocktail after a days work? Or was it really just getting back to the routine, now that I had gotten the details and responsibilities of daily life out of the way. I even remember as often as a few weeks ago that while going over my weekend budget, I was certain to make sure that Saturday night’s libations were included in my calculations, even at the risk of getting my phone shut off. After years of bartending every Saturday night, didn’t I deserve a Saturday night out on the town like everybody else?
You see these are the differences between me and everybody else, and my fellow drinkers along the way. I’m not like everyone else. I’m an alcoholic. My life had become unmanageable, because my drinking, and the resulting fog, and temperament had taken control. I suffer from a disease, a disease that has no cure, but plenty of treatment. It is only now, that I have admitted my problem, asked for help, and started to deal with it; this disease can become only a part of who I am, because until now, it was who I was, and I didn’t even realize it.
You see, I am not going to be that guy who can enjoy a glass of wine with diner, or a few beers with the guys on a Saturday night after a long week’s work. Instead I am a guy who will enjoy, I pray, a life of sobriety, because that’s what I, those who I’ve hurt, those souls entrusted to my care, and my liver, deserve. So yes, my name is David, and I’m an alcoholic. It’s time to take control of my life again, and turn it over to God so I can do his work, rather then expecting Him to pick up the pieces where I had failed. God came to a cold, lonely, broken stable in Bethlehem; this Christmas, I pray that He will find a welcome place in me, to help me rebuild this stable, and together, life can be manageable again.
When I first came to terms with the fact that I am Gay, a large challenge was for me to remember that being gay was only a part of who I am, not who I am, or what I am. The same is true of my alcoholism. I suffer from a disease, the disease of addiction, but it is not all of who I am.
Over the years I can remember countless times sitting at a bar with a friend, and going drink for drink, and the next day the person would say to me, “Dave, do you think you have a problem?” I would always think, “What a hypocrite! If I had a problem, didn’t they too?
In hindsight its amazing how I defended and guarded this dirty secret of mine that I carried in my heart. I became friends with people who would readily join me in the campaign that I didn’t have a drinking problem, the other person did…they didn’t drink…that was their problem. I was always ready to point out, while belly up at a bar, how somebody else was “such a mess”. I even managed to develop a bond, made of liquor, among us faithful late night folks at the bar. Us few faithful disciples, who would even stay after the bar had closed and help clean, while earning a little shot before heading home. The reassurance we always maintained was that “at least I’m not as bad as so-and-so.”
This is how I know I am an addict, because I bought into all those comforting lies that addiction feeds us. I mastered the art of justifying my behavior. It didn’t effect my work, it didn’t effect the parish, it didn’t effect the work I was doing for Christ, so It couldn’t have been a problem. I would wind up at the end of the day sitting at a bar enjoying a “much deserved cocktail”. Was it a well deserved cocktail after a days work? Or was it really just getting back to the routine, now that I had gotten the details and responsibilities of daily life out of the way. I even remember as often as a few weeks ago that while going over my weekend budget, I was certain to make sure that Saturday night’s libations were included in my calculations, even at the risk of getting my phone shut off. After years of bartending every Saturday night, didn’t I deserve a Saturday night out on the town like everybody else?
You see these are the differences between me and everybody else, and my fellow drinkers along the way. I’m not like everyone else. I’m an alcoholic. My life had become unmanageable, because my drinking, and the resulting fog, and temperament had taken control. I suffer from a disease, a disease that has no cure, but plenty of treatment. It is only now, that I have admitted my problem, asked for help, and started to deal with it; this disease can become only a part of who I am, because until now, it was who I was, and I didn’t even realize it.
You see, I am not going to be that guy who can enjoy a glass of wine with diner, or a few beers with the guys on a Saturday night after a long week’s work. Instead I am a guy who will enjoy, I pray, a life of sobriety, because that’s what I, those who I’ve hurt, those souls entrusted to my care, and my liver, deserve. So yes, my name is David, and I’m an alcoholic. It’s time to take control of my life again, and turn it over to God so I can do his work, rather then expecting Him to pick up the pieces where I had failed. God came to a cold, lonely, broken stable in Bethlehem; this Christmas, I pray that He will find a welcome place in me, to help me rebuild this stable, and together, life can be manageable again.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Safety from the Fires
Homily from Sunday at Saint Therese Old Catholic Church
The Readings we have heard at Mass over the last few weeks have been less then uplifting. Next weekend the Church celebrates the Solemnity if Christ the King, the last day of the Liturgical year, and the following Sunday is the First Sunday of Advent, which begins the new year in the Liturgical life of the Church. As a result these last weeks of the current year, the readings focus on the end of time, the last days. At first glance, these readings are quite unsettling, but if we look closely, they are actually full of hope.
When reading the readings of the weekend, I was reminded of a story I once heard about a man who lived with his daughter in a Canadian Prairie. Prairie fires began to spread through the region, and the man came up with a very clever idea. He started a fire of his own, burning everything in the area. When the fire was out, he took his daughter to the center of that area, and remained there, so that when the Prairie fires drew near, they would stop when they reached his location, as everything that could burn had already been burnt, making it the safest place in the region.
The Gospel today talks about “mighty signs from the sky”, earthquakes, plagues, nation rising against nation, and the list goes on. But towards the end, Jesus gives us some words of hope. “You will be hated by all because of my name, but not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives”
You see God has already burned everything that can burn, so to speak. He has already secured that safe place for us to hide from the prairie fires that burn around us. He sent His only Son to Earth, who suffered and died on the Cross so that we could have salvation. If we persevere through the challenges, and attacks of this life, we will be rewarded with eternal happiness in heaven.
The reality of it is, we don’t go through life with this mindset naturally. When the pressures and stress of everyday life is bearing down on us, we don’t say to ourselves, “well, these things are only in this life, what really matters is getting to heaven”, because the cold reality of it is, such thoughts don’t pay the bills, or fix the leaky roof, or repair the car battery, or keep the heat on, or fix the broken relationships.
Tomorrow the Church commemorates Saint Albert the Great. He was a Dominican Philosopher and Theologian, who died in the year 1280. The good Dominican that he was, he wrote extensively about the Eucharist. Of this wonderful Sacrament, he said, ”Nor could he have commanded anything which is more like eternal life. Eternal life flows from this sacrament because God with all sweetness pours himself out upon the blessed.”
Albert hit’s the nail on the head. Every Sunday we gather here as a community of faith, and come forward to receive this great Sacrament, and when we do, we find ourselves in that place of safety with our father. We are like that little girl, embraced by her father in the safest place possible, where the fires cannot burn any closer because everything has already burnt that can burn. We get a taste of eternal life, as we receive the Body and Blood of the Lord hidden in the form of bread and wine.
This great Sacrament may not put out the fires, it may not pay the bills, or fix all our problems, but what it DOES do, is give us the grace that we need to face the fires of everyday life. You see when we receive the Eucharist, we become active participants in what Theologians have called, “the Christ Event”. We stand at the crib in Bethlehem, we stand at the foot of the Cross at Calvary, and we stand before His throne in Heaven.
My dear friends as these last weeks of Ordinary time pass by, I would invite you to treasure this precious moment of safety with our Father. When we receive this Eucharist today, let’s take a moment to bask in the reality of the situation. When we leave here today, we return to the real world, where the Providence Place Mall would tell us that Christmas is already upon us, and the headaches and heartaches of life taunt us regularly. This week when the real world pushes down on us, let’s all commit to return to this moment of safety with our Father, so we can rely on the grace we receive today, then we can stand proudly and really believe that these fires will not harm us, because everything that can be burnt has been burnt already
God Bless You!
The Readings we have heard at Mass over the last few weeks have been less then uplifting. Next weekend the Church celebrates the Solemnity if Christ the King, the last day of the Liturgical year, and the following Sunday is the First Sunday of Advent, which begins the new year in the Liturgical life of the Church. As a result these last weeks of the current year, the readings focus on the end of time, the last days. At first glance, these readings are quite unsettling, but if we look closely, they are actually full of hope.
When reading the readings of the weekend, I was reminded of a story I once heard about a man who lived with his daughter in a Canadian Prairie. Prairie fires began to spread through the region, and the man came up with a very clever idea. He started a fire of his own, burning everything in the area. When the fire was out, he took his daughter to the center of that area, and remained there, so that when the Prairie fires drew near, they would stop when they reached his location, as everything that could burn had already been burnt, making it the safest place in the region.
The Gospel today talks about “mighty signs from the sky”, earthquakes, plagues, nation rising against nation, and the list goes on. But towards the end, Jesus gives us some words of hope. “You will be hated by all because of my name, but not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives”
You see God has already burned everything that can burn, so to speak. He has already secured that safe place for us to hide from the prairie fires that burn around us. He sent His only Son to Earth, who suffered and died on the Cross so that we could have salvation. If we persevere through the challenges, and attacks of this life, we will be rewarded with eternal happiness in heaven.
The reality of it is, we don’t go through life with this mindset naturally. When the pressures and stress of everyday life is bearing down on us, we don’t say to ourselves, “well, these things are only in this life, what really matters is getting to heaven”, because the cold reality of it is, such thoughts don’t pay the bills, or fix the leaky roof, or repair the car battery, or keep the heat on, or fix the broken relationships.
Tomorrow the Church commemorates Saint Albert the Great. He was a Dominican Philosopher and Theologian, who died in the year 1280. The good Dominican that he was, he wrote extensively about the Eucharist. Of this wonderful Sacrament, he said, ”Nor could he have commanded anything which is more like eternal life. Eternal life flows from this sacrament because God with all sweetness pours himself out upon the blessed.”
Albert hit’s the nail on the head. Every Sunday we gather here as a community of faith, and come forward to receive this great Sacrament, and when we do, we find ourselves in that place of safety with our father. We are like that little girl, embraced by her father in the safest place possible, where the fires cannot burn any closer because everything has already burnt that can burn. We get a taste of eternal life, as we receive the Body and Blood of the Lord hidden in the form of bread and wine.
This great Sacrament may not put out the fires, it may not pay the bills, or fix all our problems, but what it DOES do, is give us the grace that we need to face the fires of everyday life. You see when we receive the Eucharist, we become active participants in what Theologians have called, “the Christ Event”. We stand at the crib in Bethlehem, we stand at the foot of the Cross at Calvary, and we stand before His throne in Heaven.
My dear friends as these last weeks of Ordinary time pass by, I would invite you to treasure this precious moment of safety with our Father. When we receive this Eucharist today, let’s take a moment to bask in the reality of the situation. When we leave here today, we return to the real world, where the Providence Place Mall would tell us that Christmas is already upon us, and the headaches and heartaches of life taunt us regularly. This week when the real world pushes down on us, let’s all commit to return to this moment of safety with our Father, so we can rely on the grace we receive today, then we can stand proudly and really believe that these fires will not harm us, because everything that can be burnt has been burnt already
God Bless You!
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Homily from Saint Therese' Parish First Mass
A couple had two little boys, ages 8 and 10, who were excessively mischievous. They were always getting into trouble and their parents knew that, if any mischief occurred in their town, their sons were probably involved.
The boys' mother heard that a clergyman in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The clergyman agreed, but asked to see them individually. So the mother sent her 8-year-old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the clergyman in the afternoon.
The clergyman, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "Where is God?".
They boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there with his mouth hanging open, wide-eyed. So the clergyman repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "Where is God!!?" Again the boy made no attempt to answer. So the clergyman raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, "WHERE IS GOD!?"
The boy screamed and bolted from the room, ran directly home and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him. When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, "What happened?"
The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, "We are in BIG trouble this time, dude. God is missing - and they think WE did it!"
The beauty of the innocence of children is always inspiring. After I read this story, I found myself thinking back to my own days as a child. I remember the days before worrying about my rent, the bills, the car, relationships, a career, and all the other realities the world brings with it. That’s why in our Opening Prayer of today’s Mass we heard the words; “God our Father, you have promised your kingdom to those who will become like little children.” You see a little child does not understand hate, or fear. A little child does not cast judgments, or subscribe to stereotypes. A little child only sees the love that is in the world around them. It’s when they enter the real world that they discover the harshness that everyday life throws at us.
Our Parish Patroness Saint Therese understood this, despite her own difficult childhood. By the age of 13 she had lost three mothers, endured the scorn and contempt of her classmates, and had faced a horrible Kidney Infection, that nearly claimed her life. It was at Midnight Mass at Christmas that year, that she discovered the answer to so many of her problems. She realized that the child that was born on that holy night, had come into this world to personally bring her, salvation. Motivated only by love, God was made man, to walk among us, endure our hardships, be tortured and killed so that she could have salvation. Therese fell in love. She fell in love with this Jesus, and in her life as a nun, she never left the confines of her convent, but lived a life she called “her little way”. When she died at the age of only 23, she knew that she had made a difference in that convent, in the lives of those nuns, and indeed in the larger Church, because despite all the challenges she faced, she relied simply on love, the love that she shared with Christ. As a result, those challenges became bearable, because all those challenges were taken on in view of that love.
As Independent Catholics, Therese would have felt comfortable among our numbers. We are a community of believers who have faced challenges, we have felt the scorn and contempt of others, we have all been rejected somewhere by someone. We strive everyday in an uncertain world, and we have gathered today, in this space, to stand up and commit ourselves to living that same “little way” as Therese did. We gather to love our God and neighbor regardless of who that neighbor is. Regardless of sexual orientation, or who’s been divorced, or age, or gender. We come together to love with the hearts of little children, who do not judge, discriminate, or subscribe to stereotypes. Rather we gather like those two young brothers from our story. They may have been mischievous, but they stood by one another in thick and in thin, and learned life’s lessons together, in childlike love.
As we gather today to celebrate our first Mass as a Parish community, you can be assured of my commitment to you as your Pastor. My role is to bring the Sacraments, and celebrate with you, and nourish your relationship with Christ, never to judge it. Our numbers will start small, but as we grow in that relationship, the world we live in will see it, and is through the testimony of our lives that we will grow. We will never be a large Cathedral, but what we will be is real, with an honest and true commitment to the God who made us. Despite our many differences, we are all alike, we are all persons engaged in a childlike relationship with God, the rest of the details of life, are just that, details.
My dear friends, as we grow in this journey together, it is my earnest prayer that when we are asked, “Where is God”, we can answer with confidence in the words of the famous children’s Church song. He is “down, down, down, down in my heart, to stay”.
God Bless You.
The boys' mother heard that a clergyman in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The clergyman agreed, but asked to see them individually. So the mother sent her 8-year-old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the clergyman in the afternoon.
The clergyman, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "Where is God?".
They boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there with his mouth hanging open, wide-eyed. So the clergyman repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "Where is God!!?" Again the boy made no attempt to answer. So the clergyman raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, "WHERE IS GOD!?"
The boy screamed and bolted from the room, ran directly home and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him. When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, "What happened?"
The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, "We are in BIG trouble this time, dude. God is missing - and they think WE did it!"
The beauty of the innocence of children is always inspiring. After I read this story, I found myself thinking back to my own days as a child. I remember the days before worrying about my rent, the bills, the car, relationships, a career, and all the other realities the world brings with it. That’s why in our Opening Prayer of today’s Mass we heard the words; “God our Father, you have promised your kingdom to those who will become like little children.” You see a little child does not understand hate, or fear. A little child does not cast judgments, or subscribe to stereotypes. A little child only sees the love that is in the world around them. It’s when they enter the real world that they discover the harshness that everyday life throws at us.
Our Parish Patroness Saint Therese understood this, despite her own difficult childhood. By the age of 13 she had lost three mothers, endured the scorn and contempt of her classmates, and had faced a horrible Kidney Infection, that nearly claimed her life. It was at Midnight Mass at Christmas that year, that she discovered the answer to so many of her problems. She realized that the child that was born on that holy night, had come into this world to personally bring her, salvation. Motivated only by love, God was made man, to walk among us, endure our hardships, be tortured and killed so that she could have salvation. Therese fell in love. She fell in love with this Jesus, and in her life as a nun, she never left the confines of her convent, but lived a life she called “her little way”. When she died at the age of only 23, she knew that she had made a difference in that convent, in the lives of those nuns, and indeed in the larger Church, because despite all the challenges she faced, she relied simply on love, the love that she shared with Christ. As a result, those challenges became bearable, because all those challenges were taken on in view of that love.
As Independent Catholics, Therese would have felt comfortable among our numbers. We are a community of believers who have faced challenges, we have felt the scorn and contempt of others, we have all been rejected somewhere by someone. We strive everyday in an uncertain world, and we have gathered today, in this space, to stand up and commit ourselves to living that same “little way” as Therese did. We gather to love our God and neighbor regardless of who that neighbor is. Regardless of sexual orientation, or who’s been divorced, or age, or gender. We come together to love with the hearts of little children, who do not judge, discriminate, or subscribe to stereotypes. Rather we gather like those two young brothers from our story. They may have been mischievous, but they stood by one another in thick and in thin, and learned life’s lessons together, in childlike love.
As we gather today to celebrate our first Mass as a Parish community, you can be assured of my commitment to you as your Pastor. My role is to bring the Sacraments, and celebrate with you, and nourish your relationship with Christ, never to judge it. Our numbers will start small, but as we grow in that relationship, the world we live in will see it, and is through the testimony of our lives that we will grow. We will never be a large Cathedral, but what we will be is real, with an honest and true commitment to the God who made us. Despite our many differences, we are all alike, we are all persons engaged in a childlike relationship with God, the rest of the details of life, are just that, details.
My dear friends, as we grow in this journey together, it is my earnest prayer that when we are asked, “Where is God”, we can answer with confidence in the words of the famous children’s Church song. He is “down, down, down, down in my heart, to stay”.
God Bless You.
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