Saint Mary of the Immaculate Conception Roman Catholic Church

Dear Good People of Saint Mary,

Snow days are a disaster! I hear from teachers at  Holy Cross and other area schools, the kids are all mixed up. Days on, days off, no rhythm or rhyme to the process. Class work is disjointed, not following easily from day to day. As much as some of us might not like to admit it, we are people of routine. If we fall out of the habit it is hard to get back on track.

Masses here at church have been the same. Broadcast threats of storms that never quite materialized kept a lot people home, preferring not to go out and take a chance. One weekend attendance was less than half the normal attendance and the weather never really materialized, the roads were clear, it was our doorsteps or driveways that were slick. On the other hand, on another weekend we did have a lot of weather.

There is a truism that goes like this: “It is not wise to do something foolish.” But sometimes it is foolish to be so controlled by others, particularly media who sell a lot of advertising if they can prove that a lot of people tune into their scary weather predictions. It has reached the level of foolishness, I think, how we have lost our nerve, or our courage to try. One lady told me she stayed home last weekend because she heard on  the radio that there were icy patches, only realizing later that they were talking about the mountains in West Virginia.

It is also hard on a parish when Masses are not even near half-full. And I’m not talking financially (though these weekends do represent a huge hit). I’m talking about the momentum we have built  spiritually, gathering for prayer, building ourselves up as a community, growing in our penance and special practices as a parish family, praying together. It seems that, out of the forty days of Lent, we’ve already had a lot of holidays. Two of the first three Sundays of Lent were very light. People stayed home from Forty Hours and our parish mission. What may have been progress early on in the season of Lent may stalled: what can be done?

Like kids in  school, we are easily distracted and it takes a lot of energy to get back on track, but we still have a couple of weeks left: take the time you need to save Lent, if you need to. When I need to pay closer attention to work that isn’t getting done, I rely on a daily list. (People harass me for the way I use lists all the time; I have lists of lists.) But sometimes the physical action of writing it down will help to assure that it gets done.

Add prayer to your Outlook calendar. Ask your wife or husband or kids to help you to get it done. Express a priority for these things with those you love and ask them to complete them with you. Mass, and prayer, service, almsgiving for the poor, fasting, little sacrifices here and there—these are all things that we can do with one another to strengthen our resolve and improve our focus, and refocus. They will help us to be prepared for that moment when we recommit ourselves to the promises of baptism that we made years ago, or were made for us, that we must own again at Easter to move forward.

Here is a quick list of some ideas, they are called the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. Our confirmation candidates should be well aware of these by now. Here’s a checklist—mark all the ones you can realistically complete before Holy Week and check your progress before you go to bed at night. You might be surprised how natural these are to who you are!

Spiritual Works of Mercy                                                                 Corporal Works of Mercy

¤ To instruct the ignorant.                                                               ¤ To feed the hungry.

¤ To counsel the doubtful.                                                               ¤ To give drink to the thirsty.

¤ To admonish sinners.                                                                    ¤ To clothe the naked.

¤ To bear wrongs patiently.                                                             ¤ To shelter the homeless.

¤ To forgive offences willingly.                                                        ¤ To visit the sick.

¤ To comfort the afflicted.                                                                ¤ To visit the imprisoned.

¤ To pray for the living and the dead.                                            ¤ To bury the dead.

All seven of the first group are possible, practically on a moment-to-moment basis of our daily life. The second group requires some preparation and homework. Still, all of these are close to home and our parish does these things everyday. Maybe you could get involved in any number of ways that allow us to complete these commands.

God bless you.

Dear Good People of Saint Mary,

I have a Lent assignment for all of you this week. In the spirit of the new evangelization, consider reaching out to someone in your life who has grown indifferent or even disillusioned with the Catholic faith that they received. Maybe it is a spouse, or a child—or a parent, it happens. Give them a copy of this letter, if it is easier than distilling it into your own words, though that personal witness is always most effective if it comes from your heart and not through an email.

Last week we were challenged with the image of Jesus, transfigured, bright as the sun, a glimpse of God in his glory. Each of us is asked to consider that this same light is within each of us by baptism, whether we realize it or not. We can cover it up, but we can’t put it out. We live in a world where we always pray for more, and more, and more. All these things that we want. But when compared to this light within—well, everything is only a shadow. The fact is, we just don’t think about it enough to realize that we have already received everything. Already. If you have received everything, all that’s left is thanksgiving, which in Greek, is the basis of the word eucharist.

So we already have it all. Through the sunglasses of the world that dim the light, we can be convinced that we are all still so needy. Even when it comes to liturgy. This is to all of you who have left the church because “I just don’t get anything out of it:” Liturgy isn’t about getting, any more. It is about giving, we who have already received everything through the Last Supper and the Cross, Baptism and the new Pentecost of Confirmation. So here is a story that I’ve been reflecting on a lot lately.

At one time in my life, I found myself in Florence for a week. Florence is one of those cities that isn’t highest on many peoples’ list because it is exhausting. You run from one thing to another to see it all, you can never see it all. But I had been there a couple of times before, and this time had the luxury of leisure, and my goal was to discover one thing new each day. It was a Sunday, and I decided to try out a smaller church—not the big tourist experience of the cathedral choir where nobody sings, but a real neighborhood parish church in an old, poorer part of town. I was attracted to this beautiful church because I had walked into it one day and there was a shaft of light that struck the crucifix hanging over the altar in a way that I had never seen before. It stayed with me.

Mass was pretty normal. A not-so-great duo of guitar players strumming out some strange Italian folk song (?) that everybody seemed to know. Here, the congregation sang like crazy. It was a monastic church, I realized, since there were a dozen priests from the community concelebrating in white hooded habits. That shaft of light was back, this time splashing right onto the top of the altar as we prepared to celebrate Jesus’ sacrifice.

I also noticed that there were these huge woven baskets placed across the front of the sanctuary filled with rolls. The church, in fact, smelled like a bakery—that kind of hard, rustic bread that you can only find in Italy—my liturgy police siren went off. Should I leave? What if they consecrate regular bread against the rules? Maybe I should go. But the light on the altar kept me there.

Mass proceeded like normal. Couldn’t understand a word of the homily and loved every minute of it anyway. The light on the altar was so beautiful. The guitar duo persevered, people sang, we received Communion according to the rules. Then a most interesting thing happened. It was as though I suddenly heard the words in my own language (of course, I can understand Spanish which isn’t that much different): “So you must let your light shine among others.”

Before the final blessing the monks gathered around the baskets of that amazing bread as the presider, with holy water, blessed the rolls. The monks carried the baskets to the doors of the church. It was so bright outside, it seemed, looking out from the darker interior. As we left, the monks handed a roll to everyone who had been at Mass. One of them gave me a roll (my mouth was watering) and said, “Now, give to the hungry what you have received.

”I have never experienced a more perfect catechism of what the Mass is about. How beautiful is the plan to which Jesus has called us, it must have a lot of love behind it to have entrusted us with so much, just with the hope that we will realize it and respond with the same kind of love. Let’s not presume for more, let’s be thankful.

God bless you.

Dear Good People of Saint Mary,

You know, the three traditional practices for a Catholic during Lent are the most ancient: prayer, fasting and almsgiving. We should make use of all three: these are the three most powerful means for growth in the spiritual life and calling into being the Kingdom of God, preparing for the new flood of his grace. I plan to use these letters during the Lenten Season to help open up these as real instruments of grace as we journey through Lent together.

Last week I spoke about the need for simplicity and clarity (choosing a “desert”) in our lives of faith, to set the stage for prayer. I will talk more about prayer next week. But this week, since we are early in the season of Lent, I want to use this opportunity to challenge you about the sacrament of Reconciliation.

I have joked in the past (half-joked, really) that I will offer half-off on penances if you come during the first half of the season. I actually had someone ask for a better deal, BOGO for their spouse who never comes to Confession! If only … Same with using Skype, I guess, and if pigs could fly. Anyway, in the past I have even given penances like 1½ Our Fathers, since it was half off three.

We encourage you to come early for several reasons. Obviously, at some point the lines run long and time runs out. Every year there are people who are angry, mostly at themselves I would think, for waiting too long. Please remember, we don’t have Confessions while Mass is going on (no two-fers) and once 3pm on Good Friday comes, no sacraments are celebrated: the King is in the tomb. The only practice is, in grave need, Communion to the sick. Grace, though welling up in the midst of the silence of his death, is not  accessible until its glory breaks forth in the new life of his resurrection when we sing the Gloria at the Easter Vigil.

The other reason I encourage you to come early is to avoid rushing your experience of the sacrament. When the line is long, we really can’t talk like we might, if you wanted to talk. Nor, at that point, would you want to take someone else’s (maybe) only opportunity to even get in by taking a lot of time. There is always the alternative of making an appointment—and I encourage you to consider this option.

I would also like for you to come to Confession really prepared. Look on our homepage for the link to our examination of conscience. It is something I wrote, because so many examens you might find on line are crazy with scrupulosity or don’t seem to include enough for ordinary peoples’ reflection. Jesus warned the priests of his time to not heap up burdens for others that are too hard for them to carry. But he did instruct us to carry what we need to carry, with him, on our way to Calvary. Here is a quick sketch of how you might be prepared for confession:

• Consider what your sins are. Don’t be merciless on yourself, at the same time don’t minimize sins, or fall into a kind of relativism and say, like another Pharisee in the Gospels, “Well, at least I’m not as bad as that guy, or those people.” You are not that guy. Also, there is no point in confessing all the sins of your children. This is about you. Jesus looks into our hearts, in fact, and already knows what our sins are. The process of Confession requires that we acknowledge them, and tell him we are sorry. He has to hear it, the personal relationship you have with him requires it and can bear it, because he only responds with love to a penitent heart. Don’t get all wrapped up in the process, with guilt or shame. Just say them simply without a lot of details. Honestly, we don’t need (or want) to hear details. I avoid those movies and don’t need the pictures in my head. Remember, no one present is there to judge, just to forgive.

• Come after you have built up in yourself a real desire to change. Please don’t treat Confession like a carwash. The validity of the sacrament requires a “firm purpose of amendment.” Otherwise, it is basically an empty  exercise. This is the danger of coming to Confession too often. Sometimes I ask people if they might possibly sin less if they knew they might not get there for Confession every Saturday? Often they admit that this is the case. Do you think that Jesus gave us the frequent opportunity for reconciliation so that we would sin more? I don’t think so.

Above all, stay mindful that this is all about love. It isn’t the priest who says your sins are forgiven, though it might sound like his voice. It is about Jesus, who desires that you be reconciled totally— with God and with his Church, restoring the unity of the Body and the soul to grace.

God bless you.

Dear Good People of Saint Mary,

Welcome to Lent.

I have to admit, often Lent is a very difficult season for me if I am paying attention. There are a lot of obstacles and challenges that Lent seems to bring that call to question many things. But—you know—so often people come to confession to confess that they don’t have a faith that is strong enough or they have times of doubt and difficulty with many aspects of faith. This is not a sin! It is being human (which, last I checked, was noble and sacred). How easy it is to forget that faith requires a certain level of not knowing certainty. It is honest to have doubts. And it is, like any suffering, the path through them that causes us to grow. You never grow by walking around life’s challenges and problems, by remaining indifferent or intentionally ignorant. You have to go through them to grow. We must be confronted.

For this reason, the Stations of the Cross is so important. Jesus is carrying our cross, after all, not his own. And we can see in his example the way to carry our own. For a long time I thought that it was an unhealthy piety that always focused on how we “carry our cross” in the “vale of tears.” Well, maybe it is unhealthy to always be living out of that perspective but at some point, if you are honest, you realize that this is often the reality. If we weren’t supposed to carry it, why then does Jesus pick it up for us? That cross—the one that brings about the salvation of the world that we could never earn on our own—that cross isn’t the enemy. It is the effect of the enemy that we confront daily: jealousy, hatred, persecution, discrimination, violence, murder, pain and death. It does no good to pretend that these things don’t continue to crucify goodness, beauty and truth everyday. It doesn’t mean that we give in to all that robs us of our beauty, our truthfulness, goodness so that we are no longer good or true. The cross is the conflict that confronts us every day of our lives.

Coming to the Stations of the Cross gives us perspective. We see ourselves in the soldiers, in the women of Jerusalem, in Veronica and Simon the Cyrene, in Joseph of Arimathea. Ultimately, we see ourselves in Jesus, and the realization brings tears. Good tears, tears that we must cry in order to appreciate what Jesus has done for me, and for you, and for all his creation.

Speaking of tears, we saw a lot of tears this past week with the visit of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I hope you could come, I hope she filled our parish family with peace and joy.

Many were touched in ways they can’t really describe. That is okay, because words are really limiting. Others spoke to me after and wondered why they didn’t feel her (or Jesus’) heartbeat, the warmth of her hands, see any miracle. Were they not holy enough or was something wrong? I said of course not, Mary connects with people in the way that they need it at the time, I think. They said that they had such a desire to experience a wonder, a closeness of God through Mary. I asked them what they did find.

I sat back and watched you throughout the visits at different times. I will tell you the greatest wonder of all: hundreds, hundreds of you came with a fervent desire to feel her closeness, her heartbeat. What vivid faith filled the church. Just the desire that we all have that became visible: our hopefulness of a sign of her love, a love we obviously already believe in. It is as prevalent as the glitter that suddenly is seen all over the floor. (Might I add, not just around the image, but all over the church from wall to wall…) Not a person who was seeking came away without a feeling of peace and joy, a calmness or a sense of being loved. It is a testimony to Our Lady of Guadalupe, who historically came not to give some kind of stern warning or vision of hell as she has done in other instances, but to simply remind us that she is our mother, what more do we have need of? I have to tell you, it was the experience of love that caused the people of central America to be baptized at a rate of 3,000 per day in the days after the appearance of Our Lady of Guadalupe. She has a lot to tell us about our modern day, about respecting life, about caring for one another. As Patroness of all the Americas, she has a lot of work still to do.

The image will return again, one more time on next Sunday and I expect that there will be quite a crowd. We do what we can, but let us all be glad of the outpouring of love—both ours to her and hers to us—which makes us each day more of a family, brothers and sisters to each other at Saint Mary.

Now let’s get busy with Lent.

God bless you.