Saint Mary of the Immaculate Conception Roman Catholic Church

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.