The Greatest of all Gifts

Illustration, copyright 2014, Used by permission

Dear parents of children preparing to celebrate First Holy Communion (and all Catholics who desire the fullness of life),

During the Easter Season nearly two hundred children of our parish are to receive, for the first time, the Body and Blood of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them” (John 6:54-56, NRSV). 

When we poll students in our parish religious education program, we find that some do not attend holy Mass regularly and some not at all. If it is true that the Eucharist is “the source and summit of the Christian life,” and it is, and that it can be said that “in the Blessed Eucharist is contained the whole spiritual good of the Church, namely Christ himself…” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 1324), and it can, then what are the children missing out on when they do not attend Mass on a regular basis?

Knowing that parents want the absolute best for their children (isn’t that a given?), I have to believe this problem stems from a lack of understanding as to what the Eucharist truly is. But how can there be this misunderstanding?

I think it must come down to faith formation. It seems many of our generation of Catholics were not as well formed in the teachings of our faith as we could have been, including what we believe about the sacraments, and in particular, the Eucharist.

Being an adult convert to Catholicism, I do not have the childhood experience of catechesis and may only rely on the testimony of friends who were raised Catholic when it comes to trying to understand the seeming disconnect many life-long Catholics seem to have with the greatness of the gift of the Eucharist and Sunday Mass.

Some of my friends--- really, many of my friends--- insist that their own formational catechesis growing up was mediocre at best, dismal or absent altogether at worst. They will say things like, “We simply didn’t learn very much about our faith. I grew up in a time when catechesis was more about pithy platitudes about Jesus, coloring, and crafts than it was about substance and doctrine. I don’t really know what we believe. How am I supposed to hand on to my children something I just don’t possess myself?”

That is a valid question.

Thank goodness there are so many formational resources out there today for the adult Catholic who was not well catechized as a child but wants to grow in knowledge of the Catholic Faith.

But it begins with a beginning. People don’t tend to embark on a journey (in this case, of discovery of the deep truths of the Faith) unless they perceive the value of the destination.

To begin the journey deep into the heart of Jesus Christ, one must first recognize the worth of such an endeavor. In this case, in the journey of faith, generally one must first be astonished by Jesus Christ, just as the disciples were. He was like no one or no thing they had ever experienced.

Sometimes this moment of initial astonishment happens inexplicably at Mass, when a word one hears in the proclamation of the Gospel or in a homily acts as a spiritual slap in the face that wakens one’s dormant heart. (Of course, for those who do not attend Mass, how may this happen?)

Sometimes it happens through a friendship with someone whose witness of faith is impossible to ignore. There is an irresistible attraction to that person’s spirituality, a desire to know what makes that other person the way he or she is.

Sometimes it comes from an encounter with the mercy of God through the experience of grief at the loss of a loved one, or in facing a terrible sickness or trial.

Sometimes it happens through a spiritual experience such as a Christ Renews His Parish retreat, or a Cursillo retreat, or at a That Man is You gathering.

And sometimes it happens through sharing the experience of a sacrament with a child--- the baptism of one’s infant, a child’s first Reconciliation (how many parents experience the Lord's mercy through a long overdue Confession on the day of their child’s First Reconciliation), or through family preparation for a child’s first Holy Communion.

The day after our first Communion retreat, a mother came to me and shared that our pastor’s walk-through explanation of the Mass changed her perception of the holy Mass so much that she wept during Sunday Mass that morning. She was glowing with joy! She recognized the presence of Jesus in the Mass in a new way through a formational experience. Many of us have experienced occasions that invite and foster this sort of deepening conversion.

Adult conversion seems, generally speaking, to happen something like this:

One catches a glimpse of the heart of Christ, and recognizes in oneself the infinite longing within one’s own heart, and realizes that all of one’s life has been spent in pursuit of meaning, of authentic happiness, all the while trying to satisfy this aching desire through various means (often one’s work, hobbies, relationships, etc.). Somehow, by God's truly amazing grace, one discovers that only Christ can ultimately bring peace and happiness. At that point, that point of recognition of the sheer Goodness of the Lord, one is moved—impelled--- to make a journey. Or, sadly, one pushes the reality of the call deeper into the recesses of the heart in avoidance, afraid of what the journey may cost (Cf. Mark 10:22).

But the journey begins with the movement from desire: I want MORE. I am not satisfied.

There is the realization that only the infinite Reality can fill the infinite hole in one’s heart.

The Blessed Eucharist is the Bread of Heaven because it is Jesus, and Jesus is Emmanuel, "God with us." And only God can fill the human heart to capacity.

We will only know the fullness of happiness and joy when we are in ultimate union with the source of all happiness and joy, God, in Heaven.

The gift you are about to share with your children is the greatest of all gifts because it is Jesus Himself, and there is no greater gift on heaven or earth. It is through communion with Him that we experience communion with the Father and the Holy Spirit. When we abide in Jesus we abide in the Father and Him in us.

The Eucharist is our lifeline to Life.

That may sound abstract, but there is nothing more practical than living in God, in loving Him and being loved by Him.

If you want to give your child the greatest gift there is, if you want to bring your child into the most loving arms of God the Father, bring your child to Jesus in the sacrifice of the holy Mass, and make sure that the Mass is the center of your family’s life.

As your child celebrates First Holy Communion, no matter where you are on the journey of faith, see this as an opportunity to begin anew, to recognize more profoundly the unfathomable mercy of the Father, the sacrifice of love of the Son, and the power of the Holy Spirit to renew and revitalize your heart.

Lead your children to their ultimate happiness. Lead your children into the Eucharistic heart of Jesus. Hard as it may seem to believe, he loves our children infinitely more than we do, or are able. And He wants to give them the greatest of all gifts: His very Self.

At this time, you are the steward of that greatest of all gifts.

On Midwesterners and Saints

Copyright 2104, Used with Permission

So, I survived my first midwestern "blizzard" They tell us this is the worst winter here in years. My family's move from Arizona might be to blame. Maybe God wants to toughen us up. For a former desert dweller it was a surreal experience to go outside to knock snow off of a straining tree limb in temperatures that register negative forty wind chill. It is an interesting sensation to fear your ears and fingers are going to snap off. 

I find it amusing, in a twisted sort of way, that the meteorologist will announce with a straight face that "it is going to be negative fifteen tomorrow." Have a nice day. 

In Phoenix in July I used to think, The original settlers of this city clearly did not arrive at this time of year. For them to have chosen Phoenix as their home, they must have arrived to the Valley in January from the east and thought they had died and gone to heaven. Pa must have looked happily at his wife next to him on the wagon seat and said, "We're home, Ma. Dang, this is Paradise!" Then July came with its hellish heat but they had already built their houses and it was too late to change their minds. Oh, the lamenting that must have occurred that first summer, reminiscent of the Wicked Witch's cries after Dorothy doused her with water. 

Now I am thinking, Surely the first settlers of the Midwest came in Spring! No one could have come here in February and thought it would be a good idea to settle a community here! 

(On a side note, my darling daughter Abby, sometime in early January, as the real cold began, made the comment, "I wish we still used covered wagons." She has been reading all the Little House books and is into it, even calling me Pa on occasion. I said, "Really? You think it would be fun riding along in this, exposed to the elements, the brutal wind stinging your face?" She insisted, "Its not that bad." She fervently repented about two weeks ago as we walked to the minivan from church during one of the subzero treats.)

What has really amazed me is midwestern resilience. I have never seen people buck up and get in there to do what needs to be done in the face of terribly difficult circumstances the way midwesterners do. Dealing with nature's elements is just part of life. You deal with what is dealt. You persevere. 

Months ago we had tornadoes rip through the state. Ear-splitting sirens wailed throughout the neighborhoods (unsettling experience if you haven't tried that one!). Many of our neighbors enjoyed the audio-visual show from their decks, a low and murky, sickly green cloud formation rolling overhead. 

We, in contrast, were frantically scrambling to figure out whether we should take our emergency flashlight/radio gizmo that was almost drained of battery power thanks to my five year old boy and hide in the half bath downstairs (that would have been cozy) or load into our vulnerable, mobile "tornado-target" and drive to the church, the basement of which is a designated community storm shelter.

The children lined up in front of the front storm door, ready to bolt for the van on command, while Mom and Dad were "discussing" the best plan. Our twenty year old made the reasonable and impassioned observation, "Well, I know what we shouldn't do--- STAND IN FRONT OF A GLASS DOOR DURING A TORNADO WHILE YOU ARGUE ABOUT WHAT TO DO!" 

We opted for the church basement. We were the only family there. We haven't toughened up yet. 

One recent Sunday evening while a particularly intense snow storm raged, I heard a noise like a lawnmower out front. I peeked out my window, snug in the warmth of my house, and was astonished to see my next door neighbor using his snow blower (I have to get one of those!) on the neighborhood drives! He was wrapped from head to foot in snow gear, working to help neighbors like us who do not have the benefit of such sophisticated machinery (I have this old thing called a snow shovel, and barely know how to use that). Then I saw another neighbor doing the same thing. What generosity! What toughness to brave the elements! 

During snowstorms I have watched our parish maintenance staff beat back snow and ice with perseverance and raw determination in what must feel to them like a losing battle, so that the parishioners can safely participate in the life of faith. These men begin at hours when most of us are still cozy in the warmth of our beds. They come in for a quick dose of hot coffee and a snack when the cold gets unbearable, and then are back at it, denying themselves and their comfort for the sake of others. They do this for hours on end, and they still smile and greet the parishioners and fellow staff members. 

I recently told a friend back in Phoenix (Oh, he was probably out by the pool in his shorts, sipping a cold beer while we visited on the phone), "Midwestern people are amazing! They just take what nature throws at them and they keep on keeping on. Even the old grandmas here are tough!" 

Okay, time to reel it in. What does this have to do with faith and spirituality? 

I am reading the life of St. Teresa of Avila in her beautiful, candid autobiography, and am being reminded of how much her spiritual assent was a real struggle, and how many trials (physical and spiritual) she endured in her relentless quest for holiness. She did not give up. She wanted to live the reality of her relationship with God deeply. She didn't want to settle for the mediocrity her fleshly nature tempted her to, but rather she was moved to rise to the heights of her humanity, to union with God, her Beloved. Teresa desired ultimate union with God. She wanted to be fully alive. And she knew that that only happens in Christ, who is the fullness of life and joy. The saints know that union with God is the fulfillment of all desire, and that to reach that peak, one must climb. One must persevere. One must surrender to the action of God who is the source and summit of all our longings. 

Sometimes I get this childish idea (a heresy, really) that the saints were simply born with something I just don't have, that they naturally and easily love God and their neighbors, that they inherently have something that I am missing, and I am tempted to think that I could never love God and neighbor like that, no matter how hard I try.

But that simply isn't true. The saints are remarkable because they are ordinary people, who, moved by love: 1) recognize that they were made by God and for God; 2) commit themselves to live lives according to this reality, whatever the cost; 3) know that only God can do the saint-making in them--- their job is to move out of the way, to become less so He may be more in them; 4) persevere in love and take what life gives them, all the storms and difficulties, with confidence in God's Providential love; and 5) allow the trials of life to become instruments with which the Father may sculpt them into "little Christs."

St. Teresa of Avila was not born a saint; she was made into a saint, by God, through her persevering faith, trust, and a determination to not settle for the mediocrity of just being status quo. She let God in and allowed Him to transform her over many, many years, into the saint she was called to be. I think that loving God is a project of determined growth. It is religion in its deepest, truest sense, because it is all about belonging to Him. 

Saints are tough. They are the midwesterners of the spiritual life. Saints don't give up. Not on God, and not on themselves. 

What are We Waiting For?

The other day my daughter started whistling a Christmas tune. I don’t know if she did it because it feels like Christmas to our family, or because she wanted to get under my skin. This is our first fall as residents of the Midwest. Where we came from, in the desert, it doesn’t feel like Christmas until February. In early December in our former stomping grounds, one still finds it too warm most days to wear a jacket.

So my family is pretty excited that we will need coats this Christmas. Sorry, but for all my years in Arizona, the whole Christmas by the pool gig just didn’t work for me. I’m an old fashioned kind of guy, and I like Bing Crosby’s version of Christmas better. (Yes, I know Jesus wasn't born in the Midwest, but still...)

At any rate, I suspect she did it just to annoy me. She knows where I stand with the premature Christmas celebrations. I want to enjoy Advent before it slips away, for crying out loud!

The Season of Advent gets neglected--- let’s face it. That’s why one of our priests, in his homily for the First Sunday of Advent, so passionately proclaimed that it is not Christmas yet. He’s right!

The word Advent means arrival, or coming. It means something is going to happen. In this case, it is something big.

I was talking to a colleague about this, about how we are a culture that does not like to wait for anything. We want what we want now. Our culture wants Easter without Lent and Good Friday, and Christmas without Advent. We Catholics have such a gift in our liturgical calendar which helps us stay in season, and in sync with God’s Plan. That is hard for the culture to grasp.

This is a sad thing because so much happens in the waiting.

In the waiting, God prepares our hearts. In the waiting, we anticipate and consider the value of the coming event. For instance, part of the enjoyment of a friend’s visit is the anticipation and planning for it. During Advent we are preparing to celebrate the birth of the Christ which happened, but we are also preparing for the Second Coming which is to come. Are you ready? Are you prepared? Are you working on being prepared?

May I suggest--- stealing an idea from a priest whose blog I read recently--- that one thing we do in the waiting is spend some extra time with the Eucharistic Lord in adoration? Wait with Him in the chapel. Speak to Him in the depths of your heart, and listen to Him as He prepares your heart to celebrate His coming. It will be Christmas soon enough.

(By the way, Drawn to Life Ministries will be presenting an Advent mission in the Valley of the Sun on the evenings of December 9, 10, 11 at St. Helen Catholic Church- 5510 W. Cholla St., Glendale, AZ, 85304. The presentations begin at 7pm and will end by 8:30pm.)

In the meantime, go ahead and whistle some Advent tunes.

Made for... Mediocrity?

I didn’t wake up one morning in my youth and think, “I want to grow up to be a mediocre husband and father, and to fritter away my life on selfish pursuits and unfulfilling drivel.”

But there came a point in which I recognized, as a young man, that was where I was headed. I realized and acknowledged that my life was mediocre and even bad. There was an absence of goodness in my heart, and so in my life. It touched everything around me.

My journey toward badness entailed choices made step by step. The path of mediocrity and moral degeneration is a wide and spacious one, and easy to tread. My own journey will have to be chronicled elsewhere, but to sum it up, basically I bought into the culture's "gospel": "Live for yourself and you will be happy." That is, of course, the sure road to hell. 

Eating Humble Duck Pie

Copyright 2013, Used by Permission

God's truth can be found in the most surprising places. Even the infernal mind-jello mould known as television can be used by God to share the wisdom of God.

In my last blog post, Questions that Wake You Up at Night, I offhandedly made reference to people who believe that deep reflection on the meaning of life entails watching episodes of Duck Dynasty. I wasn't criticizing people who watch the show, but those whose theological reflection and inquiry goes no deeper.

While I stand by the point I made with reference to the reality show (which you can find in that post), I am humbled by the following video interview with one of the "stars" of Duck Dynasty. If I had possessed this sort of wisdom when I was this man's age... well...

Watch the brief interview HERE and be schooled by a big-bearded man of God and his bride on the topics of "what really matters in life" and "godly marriage!"

Questions That Wake You Up at Night

Copyright 2013, Used by Permission

What if this whole Christianity is one big, wish-it-could-be-true sham?

What if we have latched on to some ancient mythology out of a desperate desire for something beautiful, something to allay the deep loneliness of the human heart, which, no matter how superficially connected to others of the species it may seem to be, fears in its depths that it is somehow disconnected and alone? What if Christianity only depicts, like a painting, a beauty that is too good to be true?

What if Jesus of Nazareth has become the mythic man-god of Christian belief, a great man clothed with divinity by man's collective imagination?

These are questions that are especially prevalent in this skeptical age. They are questions that must be faced with courage because they will not go away. They will be asked with more frequency. And they will be asked not only by skeptics outside the Church, but those within.

When I was agnostic, I worked next to a fellow who loved the Lord. He took his Bible with him on his lunch hour for prayer and study with a colleague. He seemed happy and secure.

I asked him once how he could be certain God was real. His answer irritated me. He said, "I just know it in my heart." I wanted more. I wanted him to give me a reason for his certitude, for his hope.

Will the Real Jesus Please Stand up?

Copyright 2013, Used by Permission

It seems to me there are a lot of impostors out there. 

When I was a kid we watched a show called "To Tell the Truth." I am dating myself here, but the way it went, to the best of my memory, was this: A celebrity guest would face three guests claiming to be a certain person. Two were impostors and one was the real deal. The celebrity's challenge was to question all three and figure out who was being truthful. At the inquisitor's questions, the impostors could lie their heads off to trick the guest, but the authentic person had to tell the truth. 

I sometimes get the feeling we are in the position of the celebrity guest, having to discern between various claimants to the role of Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. 

In this case, the question is: Who is the real Jesus Christ among a myriad of impostors?