Wow. It's been a long time since I updated this blog. But I was thinking about our parish priest saying he feels like a semi-cloistered monk right now, and then I thought of you. That you and pretty much all the other priests in the country (and in large parts of the rest of the world) are alone right now. Of course, you have any other priests who live with you and you're probably still visiting the sick and dying, but the daily Masses with the same old people who go day after day, the weekend Masses with all the huge Catholic families, and all the other activities that make up the life of your parish family have suddenly ground to a halt. We've all gone home to be with our families and you are left bereft of your family, for in a very real sense, your family is the Church.
When I first heard that bishops were lifting obligations and then canceling Masses, I was angry. I kept saying that even in a time of plague, no matter the risks to our bodily lives, we should not be deprived of our Church community and the sacraments. The Eucharist is what sustains us through every moment of our lives, so how are we supposed to get through one of the most difficult times this current civilization has ever seen without access to the Eucharist? My anger waned as I thought about how difficult a decision this was for our bishops, and as I listened to my own bishop speak about spiritual communion, and as I realized more and more that this was in no way permanent or absolute - the sacraments still exist and anyone in dire need of them would surely be granted them.
Last night, my parish held one last public adoration hour with confessions followed by one last public Mass before the bishop's restrictions went into effect. I went to confession and stayed in adoration for only a few minutes, since I had left Joseph sitting in the car with Leo (who was finally napping!) and had promised him that he could into adoration after I went to confession. As I sat there staring at the Eucharist, I cried, not just because I was scared of the future or because I would miss going to Mass, but because I realized that I had taken Him for granted. I've always just assumed that I could go to Mass, confession, or adoration any time. After all, there are more daily Masses in this city than pretty much anywhere else in the world. And if I meant to go to daily Mass or meant to go to confession or adoration one week but then something came up, I just said "Well, I'll go tomorrow" or "I'll go next week." And now there is not tomorrow; there is not next week. I cannot receive Him, unless I happen to be on my death bed, anytime soon. The rest of Lent might go by without me being in the physical presence of Christ. And I wept because I did not want to leave His presence, and because I had passed up so many opportunities to be with Him already.
Quarantine just means 40 days, so Lent is a fitting time for all of us to be trapped apart from each other, to wander alone in the desert without the Living Bread. I've heard a lot of suggestions about how to make the most out of this time, such as praying Liturgy of the Hours, watching live streams of Mass, calling your friends and relatives, and even taking up new hobbies. These are all great suggestions, but maybe the best thing we can do is to feel ourselves in the desert, to sink into the realization that we are far from God, not merely because the church doors are closed, but because we have wandered far away without even paying attention to what we are doing. Maybe we should just sit in the silence and let God sit with us in the desert of Lent, let God speak to our hearts as we have not allowed him to do for so long. I've always shied away from quiet, afraid of what I might hear if I silenced my own thoughts for ten seconds, but it is in those moments of silence that God speaks, and maybe He is using this time to try to reach through to all of our hearts. I cried because I had thrown away all my opportunities to be with Him this Lent, and I thought my last chance was going by too quickly, but perhaps I now have a chance to be with Him more fully than I have been in a long time.
There was a moment yesterday where I felt a little jealous of all you priests around the world, because although public Masses are suspended, you still carry through your ministry of making Him present on every altar and worshiping Him, being in His presence. That is a wondrous gift, to be in the presence of God even when no one else can be there. I realized though, that the priests and the laity are merely in two different kinds of deserts. You are alone in the desert with Christ present at your side but your family cast away from you. And we are in a desert wandering with our families feeling the absence of God. But Christ is with all of us, albeit in different ways, and maybe this is our best chance to recognize His presence in our lives. Maybe the priests can spend more time in contemplative prayer, being able to adore Christ during moments when they ordinarily would be focused on tending to His sheep. And maybe we can spend more time tending to each other and listening to Christ's voice in the silence when we ordinarily would be focused on finding all the excuses our world offers us to push Him away.
Know that I am praying for you! May this Lent be a blessing and may God bless you and keep you safe, both when you are alone and when you are ministering to all those in need.
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
Saturday, April 15, 2017
He is Risen, ALLELUIAH
HAPPY EASTER!!!
I went to the Easter Vigil tonight, because my fiance is much holier than me and convinced me to actually spend 2.5 hours in Mass instead of just an hour in the morning. I've been to the Vigil before, but not in a couple years, and tonight's Mass was SPECTACULAR - There were 13 altar servers, incense was filling up the sanctuary, and I counted 45 candles surrounding the sanctuary at the consecration, although I'm rather short, so there were probably more that I couldn't see.
The best part of Mass, apart from the Eucharist, was the entrance of about twelve people into full communion with the Catholic Church, including 4 people who were baptized tonight. Not going to lie, I wastearing up crying. In my defense, the priest was a bit teary eyed, too. It's such a beautiful thing to witness people coming into the Church, and especially in a parish where until recently, attendance was falling and the age of the congregation was steadily increasing. Another marvelous part of all this was that one of the newly baptized looked like he was at least 60. I just kept thinking, "It really is never too late to go home."
At least, that's what I thought afterwards. During the baptisms, I caught myself looking around at how grand a celebration this was, and how this is not normally how we celebrate baptisms. I felt a little pride sneak in - "My baptism wasn't this fancy. I didn't have a whole choir and the church packed to the brim." The same sacrament happens whether we're baptizing an infant or an adult, so why do we place some baptisms during a "regular" Sunday Mass, while others are celebrated with the full solemnity of the Easter Vigil? After I quieted the initial pride, I felt a little like St. Peter on the Mount - "This is wonderful. We should stay here. We should celebrate ALL BAPTISMS like this!!"
And then I realized, no, these baptisms are different. Because these baptisms aren't just about welcoming a new member into the church and the redemption of souls, although of course they're about that. These baptisms are the finding of the lost sheep, and those of us who were baptized as infants are the proverbial 99 who were already at home (although each of us, I'm sure, has at some time been the one who was lost). And there will be more rejoicing in heaven over the one who was lost and is now found than over the ninety-nine who were not lost. So although the norm is for us to celebrate our baptism just with family and friends and perhaps a regular weekend congregation, when our brothers and sisters who were lost are brought into the fold, we rejoice all the more - the entire Church together as one. And I swear it's like heaven meets Earth at the Easter Vigil. It's not just the one congregation who celebrates these lost sheep having been found. It's the whole Church - every congregation celebrating a Vigil around the world, every Catholic who will attend Easter morning, every saint in heaven, and even the souls in purgatory. We all gather around and we celebrate, because our brothers and sisters have come home. They were dead, but now, like Christ, they are alive.
Happy Easter, Deacon Josh! He is risen, Alleluiah Alleluiah!
I'm praying for you!
:)
I went to the Easter Vigil tonight, because my fiance is much holier than me and convinced me to actually spend 2.5 hours in Mass instead of just an hour in the morning. I've been to the Vigil before, but not in a couple years, and tonight's Mass was SPECTACULAR - There were 13 altar servers, incense was filling up the sanctuary, and I counted 45 candles surrounding the sanctuary at the consecration, although I'm rather short, so there were probably more that I couldn't see.
The best part of Mass, apart from the Eucharist, was the entrance of about twelve people into full communion with the Catholic Church, including 4 people who were baptized tonight. Not going to lie, I was
At least, that's what I thought afterwards. During the baptisms, I caught myself looking around at how grand a celebration this was, and how this is not normally how we celebrate baptisms. I felt a little pride sneak in - "My baptism wasn't this fancy. I didn't have a whole choir and the church packed to the brim." The same sacrament happens whether we're baptizing an infant or an adult, so why do we place some baptisms during a "regular" Sunday Mass, while others are celebrated with the full solemnity of the Easter Vigil? After I quieted the initial pride, I felt a little like St. Peter on the Mount - "This is wonderful. We should stay here. We should celebrate ALL BAPTISMS like this!!"
And then I realized, no, these baptisms are different. Because these baptisms aren't just about welcoming a new member into the church and the redemption of souls, although of course they're about that. These baptisms are the finding of the lost sheep, and those of us who were baptized as infants are the proverbial 99 who were already at home (although each of us, I'm sure, has at some time been the one who was lost). And there will be more rejoicing in heaven over the one who was lost and is now found than over the ninety-nine who were not lost. So although the norm is for us to celebrate our baptism just with family and friends and perhaps a regular weekend congregation, when our brothers and sisters who were lost are brought into the fold, we rejoice all the more - the entire Church together as one. And I swear it's like heaven meets Earth at the Easter Vigil. It's not just the one congregation who celebrates these lost sheep having been found. It's the whole Church - every congregation celebrating a Vigil around the world, every Catholic who will attend Easter morning, every saint in heaven, and even the souls in purgatory. We all gather around and we celebrate, because our brothers and sisters have come home. They were dead, but now, like Christ, they are alive.
Happy Easter, Deacon Josh! He is risen, Alleluiah Alleluiah!
I'm praying for you!
:)
Monday, May 30, 2016
Deacon Josh!!
Wow, so it's been a long time since I posted on here, but you just got ordained a deacon a couple days ago, so I need to redouble my prayer and blog efforts. Only a little over a year until you're a priest!
The fact that you got ordained a deacon during Corpus Christi was incredibly awesome, one because it's an awesome feast and meant that your first homily was on the love of the Eucharist (great first homily, btw!), and two because the responsorial psalm was "You are a priest forever, in the line of Melchizedek." Which is just, wow, because obviously you're not a priest yet, but you will be a priest forever (or a bishop), and from now on, you will always have at least the partial mark of holy orders on your soul. Like, when we're hanging out in heaven ten hundred trillion years from now, you'll still have the mark of holy orders. Nuns and monks take their vows for this life (I think), married couples make vows for this life, but holy orders is eternal.
I wonder what the priesthood will be like in heaven. Will it just be that you have the mark on your soul or will you have like certain powers/responsibilities/etc in heaven? Also, will people be able to see/sense the holy orders mark on your soul, and if so, does that mean we will be able to sense people's souls directly in heaven? I mean, we're going to come to know God directly, and He has no corporeal form (well, Jesus does, so He does but He doesn't. Hopefully that will make more sense in heaven, too), so that makes it seem like souls will be sense-able. Which I guess makes sense as right now there are only souls in heaven, not bodies, and I like to imagine them interacting with each other.
Anyway, I'm getting off track. I am so proud of you for all you have accomplished in your studies and for the amazing strength and perseverance you have shown in seeking and following God's will. The step you took this weekend was really the point of no return. Even if you were never ordained a priest after this, you will still have perpetually pledged your life to the service of the church. And you have done so out of an amazing trusting love in God's will that is evident to anyone that knows you. I can't wait to see what the future holds for you. I think you are already an amazing deacon, and I believe you will be an incredible priest.
That little kid after Mass on Sunday told you he wanted to be a priest, and it made me realize the real impact that a joyful priest can have on future vocations. I think you will lead a great many souls closer to Christ. You certainly convinced a lot of us to go on Awakening, and each person that goes on the retreat is part of a ripple effect, so there is no real way to know how many people have come to have a deeper relationship with Christ because of your joy for Him. I know that my life has certainly been made a lot better the past few years by your presence. You were there in my life throughout a lot of ups and downs, and you have continuously encouraged me to pray, shown me how to love Jesus more joyfully, and called me to a higher standard of Christian living. So if you ever get nervous about trying to lead people to Christ, remember that you've already done so, probably many times over, and that He has been working through you to do great things for at least as long as I've known (and I'm guessing much longer).
Congratulations on your ordination! And thank you, for being my friend, for being an example of holiness, and for choosing to dedicate your life to the service of the Church. We need men like you to proclaim the Gospel boldly and joyfully, and I firmly believe that God is going to do amazing things through you.
As always, I'm praying for you!
:)
The fact that you got ordained a deacon during Corpus Christi was incredibly awesome, one because it's an awesome feast and meant that your first homily was on the love of the Eucharist (great first homily, btw!), and two because the responsorial psalm was "You are a priest forever, in the line of Melchizedek." Which is just, wow, because obviously you're not a priest yet, but you will be a priest forever (or a bishop), and from now on, you will always have at least the partial mark of holy orders on your soul. Like, when we're hanging out in heaven ten hundred trillion years from now, you'll still have the mark of holy orders. Nuns and monks take their vows for this life (I think), married couples make vows for this life, but holy orders is eternal.
I wonder what the priesthood will be like in heaven. Will it just be that you have the mark on your soul or will you have like certain powers/responsibilities/etc in heaven? Also, will people be able to see/sense the holy orders mark on your soul, and if so, does that mean we will be able to sense people's souls directly in heaven? I mean, we're going to come to know God directly, and He has no corporeal form (well, Jesus does, so He does but He doesn't. Hopefully that will make more sense in heaven, too), so that makes it seem like souls will be sense-able. Which I guess makes sense as right now there are only souls in heaven, not bodies, and I like to imagine them interacting with each other.
Anyway, I'm getting off track. I am so proud of you for all you have accomplished in your studies and for the amazing strength and perseverance you have shown in seeking and following God's will. The step you took this weekend was really the point of no return. Even if you were never ordained a priest after this, you will still have perpetually pledged your life to the service of the church. And you have done so out of an amazing trusting love in God's will that is evident to anyone that knows you. I can't wait to see what the future holds for you. I think you are already an amazing deacon, and I believe you will be an incredible priest.
That little kid after Mass on Sunday told you he wanted to be a priest, and it made me realize the real impact that a joyful priest can have on future vocations. I think you will lead a great many souls closer to Christ. You certainly convinced a lot of us to go on Awakening, and each person that goes on the retreat is part of a ripple effect, so there is no real way to know how many people have come to have a deeper relationship with Christ because of your joy for Him. I know that my life has certainly been made a lot better the past few years by your presence. You were there in my life throughout a lot of ups and downs, and you have continuously encouraged me to pray, shown me how to love Jesus more joyfully, and called me to a higher standard of Christian living. So if you ever get nervous about trying to lead people to Christ, remember that you've already done so, probably many times over, and that He has been working through you to do great things for at least as long as I've known (and I'm guessing much longer).
Congratulations on your ordination! And thank you, for being my friend, for being an example of holiness, and for choosing to dedicate your life to the service of the Church. We need men like you to proclaim the Gospel boldly and joyfully, and I firmly believe that God is going to do amazing things through you.
As always, I'm praying for you!
:)
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Gaudate! :D
Happy 3rd week of Advent, the week of joy!
Here are some great quotes about joy from some awesome people, the saints (and blessed)! I think it's safe to say they're pretty much experts on joy.
I'm praying for you! May you have lasting peace and joy, and may your joy catch many souls for Christ!
:)
Here are some great quotes about joy from some awesome people, the saints (and blessed)! I think it's safe to say they're pretty much experts on joy.
We are not saints yet, but we, too, should beware. Uprightness and virtue do have their rewards, in self-respect and in respect from others, and it is easy to find ourselves aiming for the result rather than the cause. Let us aim for joy, rather than respectability. Let us make fools of ourselves from time to time, and thus see ourselves, for a moment, as the all-wise God sees us. - St. Philip Neri
"We are at Jesus’ disposal. If he wants you to be sick in bed, if he wants you to proclaim His work in the street, if he wants you to clean the toilets all day, that’s all right, everything is all right. We must say, 'I belong to you. You can do whatever you like.' And this is our strength. This is the joy of the Lord." -- Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta
Also by Blessed Mother Teresa: Joy is a net of love by which we catch souls.
For one pain endured with joy, we shall love the good God more forever. - St. Therese of LisieuxAnd of course, I can't blog about joy without mentioning Fr. Baker's old homily on joy and its definition, which I think he might be drawing from St. John, but I'm not really sure (I can't find a clear source anywhere and I probably shouldn't call Fr. Baker just to ask him who he quoted in a homily like 4 years ago). Anyway, Fr. Baker gave an excellent homily once where he said that joy is not mere happiness. It is the state of being with one's beloved. Therefore, ultimate joy is found in being with Christ, not in any emotional high. The closer we get to Christ, the closer we get to the fountain of all true joy. Thus, we often feel most at peace not when we have gotten everything we ever wanted but when we have given away everything we have. (I don't think that last part was in the homily - I'm just extrapolating).
I'm praying for you! May you have lasting peace and joy, and may your joy catch many souls for Christ!
:)
Thursday, December 3, 2015
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
A poem by Fulton Sheen
I slipped His fingers
I escaped His feet.
I ran and hid for Him I feared to meet.
One day I passed Him, fettered on a tree.
He turned His head and looked and beckoned me.
Neither by seed or strength could He prevail.
Each hand and foot was pinioned by a nail.
He could not run nor clasped me if He tried,
but with His eyes, He bade me reach His side.
‘For pity sake’, thought I, ‘I’ll set you free.’
‘Ney, take this Cross,’ said He, ‘and follow Me.’
And so did I follow Him who could not move,
an uncaught captive in the hands of Love.
- Archbishop Fulton Sheen
I'm praying for you!
:)
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