Blog & Pastor Letters

There are times I wish I had no obligations. It would be great to take my wife’s hand, hop in the car, and drive into the sunset. Where we were going would not maer as much as the fact that we would have nowhere we had to be. There would be nothing we had to do. No bills. No commitments. No problems. Freedom!

Can you imagine what kind of response I would get if I asked my three children, “Who would like to volunteer to clean up the kitchen after dinner today?” Six eyeballs staring at me like I had two heads! If I couch my request in terms of volunteerism, I have suggested that they don’t have any real ownership in this matter. Perhaps they do sometimes think that their mother and I are simply hired hands to take care of them, but rest assured, I have not received a paycheck for services rendered lately.

I used to lead an RCIA session on baptism, where I would bring in my Kermit the Frog toy from when I was a child and pretend to baptize it. It was a session I especially made sure I led when we had children preparing for Easter sacraments. You would think Kermit would have become super holy having been baptized so many times, year after year. But, if he had been real, he would not have been any holier due to multiple baptisms than he was after the first baptism. He couldn’t be re-baptized. (Not to mention, of course, he is a FROG.)

God’s glory, now, is kindled gentler than candlelight under the rafters of a barn: Eternal Peace is sleeping in the hay, And Wisdom’s born in secret in a straw-roofed stable.*

When I was younger, I wrote music to and recorded Thomas Merton’s poem, “Epiphany Carol.” If you have never read it, search it out on the internet. Merton’s words are profound and paint a picture of the awesomeness of Jesus, the newborn King of Kings, lying in a simple straw bed. The shepherds and Wise Men are drawn to pay homage to the One who has been born above all others and brings with him hope for a broken world.

I use GPS wherever I go, and it serves me well most of the time. However, sometimes it leads me to a place that does not exist. Then there are those times when I am about to turn, and the man inside my phone shouts out, “GPS signal lost!” or “Rerouting!” The problem is, when the area is unfamiliar to me, I have no choice but to listen. I could try to get where I am going by simple intuition or by pulling over to look at a paper map, but I don’t trust my sense of direction. And I haven’t bought a paper map in close to a decade!

St. Joseph is one of the greatest examples of stewardship we have in the Gospels. Here is a man who understands care and reverence for the property of God, a man chosen to be steward over the very life and breath of God’s Son and Spouse.

Joseph was mindful. He recognized what belonged to God. When he understood that Mary was to be the mother of God, he was not jealous or bitter. He did not presume to claim ownership over her.

John the Baptist is truly an intriguing figure of history. He was a cousin of Jesus and literally prepared all those who would listen for this new way of life ushered in by a Messiah. Besides the key role he plays in the Gospel story, his depiction in Scripture, and then in literature, movies, and other media, gives us an image of a pretty unique person. How about locusts and wild honey for dinner? Can you imagine camel’s hair as a staple in your wardrobe? He lived differently, and he stood out among the status quo. Of course, his look and cuisine didn’t stand out nearly as much as his message.

I’ve got some great news for some of you: Jesus Christ doesn’t care what name you bear. He doesn’t care where you were born, and he doesn’t care what your family tree looks like. He doesn’t care where you grew up or where you went to school.

I’ve also got some bad news for some of you: See above.

“So too, you also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.”

This week we hear that ominous Gospel passage where Jesus tells us about people being taken from where they are and what they are doing when they least expect it, while others remain. This has been distorted by some for support into a spectacular idea of rapture, leading to many books and movies. A profitable genre has been created that sometimes preys on people’s fears.

It would be kind of awesome to be a king or queen! Absolute rule, untold wealth, and people answering your every beck and call are things that wouldn’t be half bad. Of course, I would be a benevolent monarch, and I would hope that all my subjects would love me. They could cheer me as I came out of the palace, and I think my popularity ratings in the polls would be through the roof. But if they weren’t, that would be fine, too, because I would rule the kingdom. And that means no throwing me out of office. Talk about job security!

Catholics often are drawn to saints due to their profession, hobbies, or ethnic background. One’s patron saint serves as an example of how to live a life of holiness and service to God. We hold up the saints of the Church in high regard. However, we can sometimes make the mistake of seeing them as the subject of stories in print and not real living people. We can assume that their level of devotion and holiness is unattainable. In fact, we are all called to be saints.

When I was 22, I entered St. Peter’s Basilica for the first time. It floored me. I could hardly take it in, its grandeur, majestic arches, vibrant colors, and the light that danced through its high windows. Somehow, amidst such splendor, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging, as if I had finally come home.

Jesus reorients how we Catholics see sacred buildings. In today’s Gospel he says, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:13-22). His riddle implies, shockingly, that his own body is now the fundamental dwelling place of God and humanity. The temple in Jerusalem has been superseded.

I lost my wallet this year. It was such an annoyance to replace everything in it. A friend, moved by sympathy, gave me a beautiful new one. One month later I lost that one, too, with all my newly replaced cards. No matter what I did, I couldn’t find what I had lost. I resigned myself to never seeing either of my wallets again.