St. Jude, Friend of Jesus, Pray for Us

Even though I have been a parishioner at St. Jude's Parish throughout my life, I never truly appreciated devotion to this particular saint, that is, until I discovered how others see him as their last refuge and hope.

While I was in college, I worked at my home parish during the summers, cutting grass and helping with small maintenance jobs. During work one day, I discovered a white envelope tucked in the nook which holds a statue of St. Jude. On the envelope was written, "Open me. I need help."

St. Jude Shrine

Concerned, I tore open the envelope and found a handwritten note along with two dollars worth of coins. The note was heartbreaking. A woman was desperate. Her marital and familial relationships were unraveling. Her career was ending. And her financial situation was dire. She felt betrayed, confused, and lost. This anonymous woman was at the end of her rope. In her desperation, she turned to St. Jude. The note instructed whoever found it to use the money to light a candle at the parish shrine to St. Jude. "Please pray for me," the woman ended the note, "please, St. Jude, help me." 

So I went and prayed. I don't know the name of this woman. And I don't know how her situation was resolved. But I do know that in faith, she turned to St. Jude. This woman trusted that the patron saint of those in desperate situations must be a close friend of Jesus. In asking the finder of her note to pray to St. Jude on her behalf, this woman also put her faith in the other friends of Jesus: you and me.

The faith of this woman has challenged me to always strive to be an authentic friend of Jesus. To be a friend of Jesus means to walk with others in their desperate moments, to accompany them through the pains and struggles of life, to share the joy of Jesus' saving word and activity, and to try to restore broken lives with prayer, gentleness, and hope.

This is the experience of those who turn to St. Jude for his intercessory prayer and aide. They know him to be a friend of Jesus. Hopefully, when we encounter others in such desperate situations, they too will see us as friends of Jesus.

St. Jude, friend of Jesus, pray for us!

Humble Pie

Have you ever had an immensely embarrassing moment that was magnified by the fact that it was witnessed by many people? The sting of scorched pride can be quite painful.

Recently, I was assisting as a deacon at Mass with the local archbishop. The worship space was filled to near capacity. The liturgy was beautiful and everything was moving along as perfectly as humanly possible, that is, until the very last moment.

As one of the deacons, I was tasked with chanting the dismissal. There are several options one can choose from when dismissing the congregation at the end of Mass. I could've chosen to chant the easiest option. It's only three words: "Go in peace." I mean, c'mon! It should've been very, very simple: "Go. In. Peace." That's it! But, I didn't do that. Instead, for some unknown reason, I attempted to chant the slightly longer, "Go forth, the mass is ended."

That choice was a disaster. While some singing voices can be described as smooth and silky, mine might be classified more as lumpy and coarse. Furthermore, as I began to chant, I realized that I had mangled the word order of the dismissal. I stumbled through half the words, then becoming very self-conscious, I stopped chanting altogether. I attempted to plow my way through the chant one more time, pretending as if those first few syllables that I plopped out simply did not exist.

I could feel the eyes of the assembly staring at me, wondering what sort of side-show spectacle they were witnessing. After a fatally-long three seconds of silence, the congregation cautiously responded, "Thanks be to God." I am sure they were thankful to God that the auditory train-wreck they had witnessed was finally over!

How mortifying! The embarrassment I felt rose from the pit of my stomach into my throat. My face was flushed red. Somehow, I managed to stare at the floor during the entire procession out from the sanctuary, down the aisle, and onto the front concourse of the church. Although I tried to avert the gaze of others, I could not hide from the other deacon's friendly ribbing. Once we were outside, he slyly commented, "Well, you might need some practice."

I recount this story for several reasons. In retrospect, it is a humorous reminder for me not to take myself too seriously. While the Eucharistic liturgy is a privileged sacramental encounter with the grace that God graciously extends to humankind, it is also very much a human affair! We try, rightly so, to make Mass beautiful, prayerful, and exalted. But as human beings, we cannot do everything perfectly. And so, we trust that God is at work through the sacraments. In a similar way, we trust that God is at work in our lives regardless of our imperfections, failings, foibles, and flaws.

"Laughing Jesus" by Willis Wheatley

God acts, even when we fall short. Grace is effective, even when we miss the mark. We might feel burdened with our imperfections, of being all too human. However, in dying a very public, shameful, and embarrassing death, Jesus has transformed our own guilt and shame. By his rising, Christ has elevated us beyond anything that diminishes our humanity. Jesus bore for us the pain of shame and embarrassment so that we can experience life fully alive with awe, wonderment, and the joy of knowing that we are loved.

This is good news for all of us! So, embrace your embarrassing moments! Laugh at yourself when you've committed an awkward faux pas. Lift your head high! Let these moments serve as a reminder that our humanity has been blessed and redeemed by our loving and merciful God.

And, as I meant to say once before, "Go in peace!"

Parishes: New, Yet Familiar

Few liturgies match the ritual beauty of a mass of dedication for a new church building. These dedications don't happen too often. That is why I felt so privileged and blessed to be a part of the rites for the new church at my home parish of St. Jude's in Mountain Top, PA.

The construction of the new church building was many years in the making. Many people worked diligently throughout the years to envision a home for the Catholic faith community in Mountain Top. The end result went far beyond expectations! The new church building blended traditional and contemporary elements, creating a mosaic of a living parish faith community.

Parishioners gathered together with Bishop Bambera, Fr. Joe Evanko, and other priests to worship God, to hear the Word, to share the Eucharist, and to go forth to transform the world. Even though the parish gathered in a new church building, we were participating in something very familiar.

For me, it was quite moving to see many familiar faces during the mass of dedication and to realize that there were still many others who couldn't make it or who are no longer with us. We stand upon the shoulders of those who came before us. Our faith is alive, especially as it is passed from one generation to the next. And so, as the ritual unfolded, I found myself reflecting on the significance of a parish.

It is among this faith community of St. Jude's that I was baptized, confirmed, forgiven of sin, and fed at the Lord's table. At St. Jude's, I attended weddings and funerals, I was formed in the Catholic faith, and I spent many hours in prayer discerning God's call for my life. The mass of dedication for the new church building at St. Jude's reminded me that our Catholic-Christian faith must always be rooted in a living community. Parishes are where faith is planted and grows.

Certainly, it was a joyous occasion to watch as the bishop blessed and anointed the new church. It is great to see that this community is now housed in a spacious, beautiful, and functional edifice. But what was most gratifying for me was knowing that even though the Catholic community of Mountain Top now had a new and magnificent church, St. Jude's Parish would still be the familiar living family of faith that continues to guide me (and so many others) on the journey of life.

For more pictures of the Mass of Dedication of the new church at St. Jude's, visit: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1107680626000734.1073742062.313158165452988&type=3

"Behold, the Church's Treasure!"

On this day, in the year 258, Saint Lawrence, a deacon of the Church of Rome, was martyred during the persecutions of Emperor Valerian. As the story goes, St. Lawrence was entrusted by Pope St. Sixtus II with the temporal goods of the Church of Rome to be distributed daily to the poor in the city. When the greedy and corrupt emperor heard of this rumored wealth, he sent his prefect to the deacon Lawrence and demanded that he turn it all over to the imperial treasury.

Confronted with this demand, Lawrence asked for three days to gather the Church's wealth. During the first two days, Lawrence gave away all of the Church's property to the needy. Then, on the third day, the defiant deacon marched to the prefect of the city of Rome with the poor, the homeless, and the ill following behind him. Pointing to this band of outcasts - marginalized, impoverished, and dejected - Lawrence told the emperor's prefect: "Behold, the Church's treasure!" This act of defiance led to his arrest, condemnation, and death. St. Lawrence is honored in the Church as a saint and martyr.

"St. Lawrence Distributing Alms to the Poor" by Fra Angelico

St. Lawrence's defiant words to the prefect should still challenge us in our time! First, we are challenged to consider our relationship with wealth and temporal goods. Our material means are meant to satisfy our needs, and in turn, to help others live a life of dignity, relative comfort, and peace. Are we willing to share our gifts with others who are in need? How attached are we to our wealth? St. Lawrence also challenges us to see the poor as our greatest treasure. In the name of Jesus and his Church, we are called to care for every individual who suffers from the indignity of material poverty, as well as to minister to those struggling with spiritual poverty.

Like St. Lawrence, we must embrace the poor, grow to know each one of them by name, and discover their stories. In doing so, we will see ourselves in every poor man, woman, and child. In embracing the poor, we will come close to God, who in Christ Jesus, became poor for our sake. When we embrace the poor, we embrace our truest and only treasure.

St. Lawrence, pray for us!

Hope for Young Adult Ministry

So often in our parishes, outreach to young adults (ages 18-35) does not exist. We've convinced ourselves that these men and women will automatically maintain their connection with our faith communities while transitioning through the critical years of their lives. Or, as we also tell ourselves, if they do drift away during their young adulthood, our young adults will eventually return once they are married and start their families.

This thought process has stagnated outreach to young adults. Their spiritual and social needs are vast. So many young adults transition from school to first careers (or prolonged underemployment) without adequate systems of support. Some may move into new towns or cities, though many must reside at home due to a lack of affordable housing. They live, work, and socialize among their peers, most of whom do not regularly practice their faith.

Given these glaring realities, most of our parishes are ill-equipped to minister to the needs of this particular demographic. Yet, with Jesus Christ, there is always hope!

Young Adults on pilgrimage in Washington, D.C.

Here in the Poconos, there has been a tremendous growth in young adult ministry throughout the past year. What first began as outreach to students at nearby East Stroudsburg University has evolved into a separate regional young adult group for men and women in their twenties and thirties.

Faith on Fire allows young adults to be part of a faith-based community of peers. Together, we pray, socialize, and grow deeper together in our Christian discipleship. And we have a lot of fun, too! We love to go to different pubs for wing night and on Sunday, explore different parishes for Mass. We've hosted Scripture studies and faith-sharing opportunities. Members of Faith on Fire also joined diocesan pilgrims at the World Youth Day Unite! event in Washington, D.C.

Some members of Faith on Fire at St. Matthew's Parish, East Stroudsburg

This young adult ministry is at the service of our local parishes. Members of Faith on Fire are encouraged to be active, pray, worship, and serve in their own respective parish communities. There is, of course, something quite powerful about being united in the Spirit with young adults who share similar joys, struggles, and desires.

I hope that more young adults in the Poconos will join us. It will require us to be missionary disciples, to go out and invite others into this group. Of particular importance will be our work of going to the "peripheries" in order to bring those who feel marginalized by the Church back into this community of faith and love. Young adult ministry is life-giving and joy-filled. It is also desperately needed!

For more information regarding Faith on Fire, visit: http://www.stmatthewspa.org/68.
Also, check us out on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/151446532031351/?ref=br_rs

In a Spirit of Gratitude

So now that the dust has finally settled, I can finally sit down and gather my thoughts about all that has transpired these past two weeks. On Saturday, May 27th, Bishop Joseph Bambera ordained me to the diaconate. It was a beautiful weekend! To say that I have been overwhelmed by the prayers, generosity, and love of others is an understatement.

In a deep and profound spirit of gratitude, I have been reflecting on the occasion of that diaconal ordination weekend. It is difficult to express my heartfelt thanks to everybody who gathered together to pray for me, to support our local Church of Scranton, and to affirm that the Holy Spirit is very much alive and igniting the hearts of the People of God. But I'll give it a try:

-I am so grateful for my parents, Jim and Maria, for my grandparents, siblings, and my entire family. And I am also grateful for my friends from the many different chapters of my life. They have been my system of support and love for many years!

-I am grateful for the parishioners of St. Matthew's in East Stroudsburg, St. Jude's in Mountain Top, and St. Vincent de Paul's in Dingmans Ferry. These women and men have helped me to grow into my identity as one called to serve and minister in the name of Jesus.

-I am grateful for those deacons and priests who have been present to me throughout my time of discernment. Many have been personal role models whom I hope to emulate in my years of ordained ministry.

-I am grateful to our bishop, Joseph Bambera, for laying hands on me and calling upon the Holy Spirit in this sacramental sign of service to the People of God. I am humbled (and excited) to exercise ministry for the Church of Scranton under the leadership of this successor to the apostles!

-And finally, I must express my gratitude for the ways in which God has worked in my life! I could never have predicted my life's journey to this point. And I don't know what the future holds. But as a wise priest has reminded me, we entrust our unknown futures to a known God. I am grateful that God has given me the gift of life, sustains me in love, and has called me to serve the Church in this particular way.

In this spirit of gratitude, all I can say is, "thank you!"

Our Song of Mercy

Last night, I went for a walk through the nearby college campus. As I was passing by one of the parking lots, I saw a van from the university that is used by the college marching band. Emblazoned on the side of the van was the name of the band with the catch line, "Music Without Mercy."

I laughed to myself as I thought what this could possibly mean. Do their flutes shoot out flames of fire? Or do they use tubas as cannons?

While it is humorous to imagine this scenario, I then thought about the fact that everything in our world - perhaps even our music - can sometimes be devoid of mercy. There is a real need for mercy.

Mercy is God's radical love and acceptance of us for who we are and where we are in life. Mercy does not demand that we conform to impossible standards and forsake our natural goodness and beauty. Mercy affirms that we created in love by God and that God wants to save us from all that keeps us burdened and prevents us from being our truest and most free selves.

We do indeed have a song of mercy, one that was recited by a pregnant virgin in the hill country of Nazareth. This unexpected-yet-expectant mother of our Lord Jesus sang of God's mercy and all the ways God reaches out to save us. For us Christians, especially in a world where there is "music without mercy," this is our song of mercy:

The Canticle of Mary (Magnificat)

Luke 1:46-55

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,

And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior

For He has looked with favor on His lowly servant.

From this day all generations will call me blessed,

The Almighty has done great things for me and holy is His Name.

He has mercy on those who fear Him in every generation.

He has shown the strength of His arm.
He has scattered the proud in their conceit and has lifted up the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things,

And the rich He has sent away empty.

He has come to the help of His servant Israel,

For He has remembered His promise of mercy,

The promise He made to our fathers,

To Abraham and his children forever.

Triduum: Three Days of Gift

It is striking for me to think just how incredibly good and generous our God is to us. This isn't an aloof god who is far-removed from our needs, our desires, our hopes, our dreams, and our failures. This God - our God - is the living God who chooses to dwell among us amidst our personal histories, with warts and glory and all.

In Jesus, we have encountered God-among-us in the most intimate way. Through our sinful inclinations, we have proven time and again that we do not always share in this desire for love, life, and intimacy. Still, our poorest choices do not deter our good and generous God. During these three holiest of days, the Triduum, we remember and enter into the most profound mystery of God's love in Jesus. During these days, we are given the very gift of God.

On Holy Thursday, Jesus was determined to show his disciples the depth of God's love and goodness. "Though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not regard equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave" (Phil. 2:6-7). At this Last Supper, Jesus tied a towel around his waist and washed the disciples' feet. Jesus did not disdain the feet of these liars, cowards, and betrayers. He loved them with the greatest love, a love that was willing to lay down his own life for them and for all of humanity, even "while we were still sinners" (Romans 5:8). Jesus saw the worth of every disciple, despite their sins.

As if this gift of Jesus the Servant was not enough, Jesus then took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to the disciples as his very Body. And then with the cup, he blessed it and shared it, giving it to the disciples as his Blood poured out. From that moment, Jesus perpetually gave us his Eucharistic Body and Blood as a lasting memorial of this gift of God's love. This love of Christ Jesus is willingly sacrificed for each of us - for the whole lot of humanity: cowards, liars, and betrayers. This gift of Jesus' very self, a gift of love and an offer of salvation, always remains freely available for us to take, to eat, to drink.

This love, however, has a cost. We could not accept the immediacy of this love. All of us - Jew and Gentile - have rejected this gift. It seems paradoxical to call this day Good Friday. This is a day of injustice, arrest, torture, and death. We see the darker side of humanity in Peter, Judas, Pontius Pilate, the Roman guard, and the Temple officials. Yet, this day is indeed good because we also encounter a love that is stronger than the forces of death. Jesus forgives the repentant thief (cf. Luke 23:43) and asks forgiveness for those who have done this to him (cf. Luke 23:34). Jesus gives testimony to the Truth without violence or revenge (cf. John 18:37).

Jesus dies at the hands of sinners. Jesus is buried. Jesus is swallowed up into the earth. In the gift of his great love, God in Jesus experiences our humiliation, our suffering, and our death.

"Something strange is happening - there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness," begins one ancient Holy Saturday homily. "The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep." Even in death, Jesus provides us with another gift of love: the gift of silent waiting and anticipation. We wait for God to act, just as those disciples waited with much pain and anxiety. As the world remained wrapped in long silence, Jesus was at work, restoring all things in God. Death could not silence the power of love. Jesus descended into the very depths of hell, of isolation, and death. In the silence of the tomb, God's love was at work.

It would only be on the third day - on Sunday - that this silence  would be broken by the words of life and love triumphant over the grave: "You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified. He has been raised. He is not here. Behold, the place where they laid him!" (Mark 16:6). Jesus, who had given us the gifts of his service, his Body and Blood, his death, and his sacred silence, now gives us yet another gift: new life!

Our good and generous God is the giver of many gifts. These are not abstract nor are they generic gifts. But in Jesus Christ, God gives us those gifts for our lives that carry us from sin to forgiveness, from darkness to light, from suffering to freedom, from death to new life.

All paintings used in this post are by Sieger Köder.

Beauty in Life's Blemishes

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Lenten Holy Hour.] 

Have you ever heard of the practice of kintsugi? I never had either, but recently I learned that kintsugi is a practice done in Japanese pottery in which a crack or blemish in the pottery is filled with gold to preserve the artwork. The flawed and broken pottery becomes even more valuable than before. The art is more beautiful because of the flaw, not in spite of its imperfection.

Example of kintsugi pottery

It might be surprising to hear, but this is true about our lives as well. Yes, we know too well those areas of our lives where we are cracked and blemished. We experience low self-esteem and anxiety. We suffer from compulsions like greed and lust. We are weighed down by self-pride and impatience with others. And we listen to voices that tell us we’re not good enough or holy enough.

In so many ways, we think that these cracks, flaws, and blemishes are barriers that keep us from God’s love. But my friends, Jesus’ life, mission, and ministry show us something else: that God loves us, not in spite of our blemishes, flaws, and cracks, but precisely through and in our weaknesses.

Jesus encounters us in our hurts, woundedness, sin, and struggle Jesus does not wait for us to be perfect or complete. Rather, our cracks, wounds, and flaws become the privileged place of encounter with Jesus.

This is the lesson we learn once again from tonight’s Gospel passage. The woman was caught in adultery. Yet in Jesus, she does not find condemnation, but a voice of mercy – a tender voice of forgiveness, and a voice that challenges her to conversion. In Jesus, the woman finds a new way forward from here brokenness towards healing and hope.

During the entire season of Lent, we have heard of the many ways in which the Lord Jesus encounters others in the cracks, the blemishes, and the imperfections of their lives. Three weeks ago, we heard about the Samaritan woman at the well and her movement towards conversion. Two weeks ago, we read of the miraculous cure of the man born blind and his discovery of faith in Jesus. And just yesterday, we head how Jesus went down into the depths of grief and death with Martha and Mary and freed his friend Lazarus from the sleep of death. 

In all these moments, Jesus enters into the messiness and chaos of life to bring healing, hope, and restoration. Jesus does the same for us, too.

Jesus and the woman caught in adultery

-Jesus wants to bring us the great gift of the Father’s mercy and forgives to those areas of our lives in which we are ashamed, to those areas trapped by sin, just like the woman caught in adultery. Are there any public or private sins that I am need of forgiveness?

-Jesus wants to speak to our hearts’ deepest desires and longings. Like the Samaritan woman at the well, Jesus wants to restore us to friendship with him and right relationship with others. How open am I to conversion?

-Jesus desires to illumine our lives with the truth of faith. Like the man born blind, Jesus wants to gives us sight, to see him with eyes of faith and to see our brothers and sisters with eyes of love. What is blinding me from trusting God in my life? What blinds me from seeing God’s goodness in others?

-Jesus desires to raise us up to new life, not just at the End Times, but now. Like Lazarus, Jesus wants to bring new life to all those areas in our lives that are enclosed in the darkness and lifelessness of our self-imposed tombs. 

What area of my life needs to be freed from tomb?

Tonight, we have ample opportunity to explore how it is that Jesus encounters us in our broken and flawed part of our lives. In the sacrament of reconciliation, we hear the Lord’s words of forgiveness and mercy. And sitting here in prayerful adoration of our Eucharistic Lord, we can ask Jesus to send his Spirit to reveal to us all those ways he encounters us and continues to do so in our lives. In all these ways, and in so many other ways, Jesus has been working toward our restoration. Jesus seeks to forgive us, to offer us the great gift of healing, of hope, of new life.

But Jesus does not act because we are perfect, whole, or complete. Rather, we experience Jesus’ salvific work in the cracks, blemishes, and brokenness of our lives. These are privileged places of encounter. Like the art of kintsugi in which cracks are beautified and made precious with gold, so too are our lives made beautiful when the cracks and blemishes of our lives encounter the saving love, grace, forgiveness, and peace of Jesus Christ.

Hell is Isolation

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Lenten Holy Hour.]

In his 1944 play “No Exit,” the French existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre writes about three people condemned to hell, which in the play, is a waiting room. During the play, the three characters torture each other with their selfish words and actions. One of the characters goes on to declare: “Hell is other people!”

But my friends, in tonight’s parable from the Gospel of Luke, we hear from the heart of Jesus that hell is not other people. Rather, hell is being isolated from other people!

In many ways, we are the ones who create large chasms between us and other people. Through our creature comforts, our selfishness, and greed, we barricade ourselves from reaching out to other people.

During his life, the rich man de-humanized Lazarus. He never once offered food, shelter, or medical aid. He never once even acknowledged Lazarus, even though the poor man was lying at the rich man’s doorstep. As we hear in the parable, it is only in the afterlife when the rich man wants something does he acknowledge Lazarus's identity. The rich man requests that Lazarus dip his finger in water and quench his thirst.

It is at moment that the rich man condemns himself. He knew who Lazarus was during his life, but never bothered to reach out to him, never spoke his name. Yet now, only when the rich man wants something, does he speak the name of the poor man. The rich man is thus condemned through his own individualism and selfishness.

God doesn’t send us to hell. No. We condemn ourselves to this eternal isolation whenever we refuse to recognize the dignity of another human being and whenever we isolate ourselves from loving God in our neighbor – especially the needy, the poor, and the marginalized.

In his letter to mark the beginning of Lent, Pope Francis reflects on this particular passage about Lazarus and the rich man. In his reflection, Pope Francis says that this parable reminds us that every person is a gift and that every person is a treasure given to us from God. Every single life has been created in and through God’s creative act of love. Every life therefore, is precious, sacred, and has a purpose. Every person has a story and a name. Every person reveals to us something unique about God's love and goodness.

The rich man in the parable does not recognize the sacredness that is present in others, that was

present in Lazarus. In his letter, Pope Francis goes on to diagnose the rich man in the parable. According to Pope Francis, the reason that the rich man did not love his neighbor - the reason why the rich man did not see poor Lazarus as a gift and a treasure - was because he had closed his heart to the Word of God.

The Word of God has incredible power to transform our hardened hearts, to melt away our self-imposed isolation, and to lead us in conversion from sin to new life in God.

During this Fourth Week of Lent, as we come closer to Easter, it is worth considering how well we are listening to the Word of God. Tonight is a good night to meditate on God’s Word of salvation. Tonight, as we sit before the sacramentalized and enfleshed Word of God in the Blessed Sacrament, we are challenged to imitate our Eucharistic Lord. We are called to be like Jesus:

-to be like Jesus who did not disdain to become like one of us;

-to be like Jesus who experienced our sufferings and humiliations;
-to be like Jesus who experienced a dehumanizing death;
-to be like Jesus who chooses to identify with the poor, the vulnerable, and the marginalized.

The same Eucharistic Lord whom we honor and adore is the same Word of God who is enfleshed in Lazarus and the many poor and abandoned members of our community and society. Hearing the Word of God means that we are attentive to the cries of our brothers and sisters who sit at our doorsteps – the cries of those who hunger for justice, for peace, for safety, and for mercy.

Truly hearing the Word of God means learning the names, the faces, the stories, and the challenges of the poor and homeless here in East Stroudsburg. Truly hearing the Word of God means that we name the struggles of our own lives, and those of our families, co-workers, and of our Church so that we can come together in solidarity to address whatever suffering our brothers and sisters might be facing. To truly hear the Word of God challenges us to move beyond our impulses to be greedy consumers who are overly materialistic. The Word of God challenges us to be generous with our time, our possessions, our love. 

The Word of God challenges us to be like Jesus.

If we are attentive to the Word of God and if we listen to and embody this Word, then the Lord will move us to a deeper love and solidarity with all of humanity. When this happens, we will finally be able to see, cry out, and embrace Lazarus at our doorstep.

We must allow Jesus the Word of God to save us from that chasm of separation that we often create for ourselves... from the hell of isolation.

St. Joseph: Lover of Poverty

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Lenten Holy Hour.]

I recently discovered an old traditional litany to St. Joseph. One of the titles that St. Joseph went by in this litany was "Lover of Poverty...St. Joseph, Lover of Poverty, pray for us!"

I have to admit, this title is somewhat peculiar to me. It sounds a little odd. Afterall, we are often made to think that it is bad to be poor and that only when we are rich, comfortable, and surrounded by material wealth and security that we will be truly happy and blessed.

But my friends, if we truly explore what our Catholic-Christian faith teaches us and if we look also to the example of St. Joseph, then we will quickly realize that true happiness and true blessedness comes in recognizing and embracing our poverty.

You might remember that Pope Francis was officially installed as the Bishop of Rome four years ago on the Feast of St. Joseph. Pope Francis has reminded us that we are to be a Church that is poor and a Church that is for the poor. We see this in how Pope Francis has chosen to live, shirking palaces in place of a hotel room - abandoning limousines and choosing simple cars.

But even more than embracing material poverty, Pope Francis has challenged us as a Church to recognize and embrace our spiritual poverty. We all struggle. We all sin. We all fall to our own plans, schemes, and desires. And yet we have been saved in and through God's love. We have experienced the Lord's profound gift of mercy. We are saved, not based on our own merit, but on God's goodness to us.

When we empty ourselves of those material possessions that distract us and make us competitive...when we empty ourselves of the need of being in charge of our lives...when we empty ourselves of ego, pride, and individualism...then we will find that our hearts are free and available to do the will of the Lord. In our poverty - in being poor, empty, and available - we find that we can better hear the voice of God in our lives.

This is why we can look to St. Joseph as our model of discipleship, as our model of embracing material and spiritual poverty. As a poor laborer, Joseph was empty of the material things that distract us from our living relationship with God. Joseph was empty of vengeance and cruelty when he found out Mary was pregnant. Joseph was empty of fear when he, with Mary and the child, fled to Egypt and escaped those violent forces that sought the life of Jesus. Joseph was empty of his own wants, dreams, and desires. In the poverty and emptiness of silence, Joseph was commissioned through an angelic voice to care for Mary and Jesus as husband and father.

St. Joseph reminds us that true blessedness lies in our poverty.

Tonight, as we sit here in silent adoration of our Eucharistic Lord, who himself chose to be poor, empty, and available in order to do the Father's will, let us take stock of how well we are embracing our call as baptized Christians to embrace and love our material and spiritual poverty. What might be getting in our way? What possessions or wealth holds us back from our commitment as disciples? What prevents us from being completely open to doing the will of God in our lives?

We may not always live up to our calling, but thankfully we have a God who is patient and merciful, a God who tenderly shows us how to embrace this poverty of spirit. And in St. Joseph, we have a role model, a patron, and a guide who shows us how to live in a spirit like Christ - free to do the will of the Father because he is poor, empty, and available.

St. Joseph, Lover of Poverty, pray for us!

Snow, Blizzards, and Forgiveness

It seems especially appropriate that during today's snow storm, we hear this from the prophet Isaiah in today's readings:

"Wash yourselves clean! Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan's plea, defend the widow.

Come now, let us set things right, says the Lord: Though your sins be like scarlet, they may become white as snow; Though they be crimson red, they may become white as wool."

St. Matthew's Church, East Stroudsburg, PA

Let's remember all those who lack adequate warmth and shelter today. May we, as individuals and as society, work to address the coldness of injustice that we have shown to the poor, the homeless, and our marginalized sisters and brothers.

And remember that just as the snow blankets our yards, our streets, and our homes, so too does God's mercy and forgiveness blanket our sins, faults, and failings.

Stay warm and safe today!

Our Daily Crosses

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Parish Lenten Holy Hour.]

"Take up your cross daily and follow me." -(Luke 9:22-25)

Whenever I hear this Gospel that was just proclaimed, I think of a family I know well. The adult children care for their aging parents. When all is said and done, they might spend four or five hours each evening cooking, cleaning, and watching after their parents. All of this is on top of caring for their own families and careers. The siblings all admit that this is exhausting work at times, yet this is the task they have been called to do. And so, even though it is not always easy, they faithfully and lovingly attend to their parents' needs.

I also think of a young woman I know. At times, she suffers from anxiety and bouts of depression. Sometimes, life can be a challenge and burdensome. During these moments when the anxiety and depression are particularly strong, she struggles to maintain her faith. "I hate that I feel this way, but I can't help it. Why do I have to be the one with anxiety and depression?"

It is the Cross.

The Cross is an anomaly. It is counter-intuitive. St. Paul described the Cross as a scandal to Gentile and a stumbling-block to Jews. But the Cross - taking up our Cross daily - is what Jesus tells us tonight is the condition for our discipleship.

What does it mean for us to carry our Cross? In calling us to carry our Cross, Jesus asks of us to be aware of that which burdens us. We are to be in touch with the suffering we face in life, whether it is physical, emotional, or spiritual. We need not be ashamed or hide the Crosses in our life. It might seem counter-intuitive, but when we embrace our Cross and accept our humanity (and its limitations), we actually come closer to our God. Our Crosses remind us of our loving dependence on God!

The Crosses we carry daily, however, are only half the story. Our faith reminds us that in the Paschal Mystery, Christ Jesus carried his own Cross, bore the wounds of sin and suffering in the crucifixion, died, and was raised by the power of God's faithful love on the third day.  And just this past Sunday, we heard the Gospel account of the Transfiguration of the Lord. We were again reminded that Jesus' glorification can only be understood in light of his suffering on the Cross.

The Crosses we bear in life always lead us to encounter Jesus. And an encounter with Jesus always leads us to new life, a new direction, a new horizon. In dying to self and in taking up our Cross, we will experience new life in God.

"Jesus und Simon von Cyrene" by Sieger Köder

Now, we must clarify that God does not desire that we suffer God is not cruel or vengeful. God is not sadistic. Rather, God's love is so abundant, so overflowing, brimming over the surface, that it cannot be contained. God's love transforms all, even the darkest of nights and the heaviest of Crosses. We all carry our Crosses daily. No matter what form, shape, no matter how heavy, long-lasting or short-term, physical, emotional, or spiritual...we all have a Cross to carry!

But let us remember that Jesus has gone before us, that Jesus carried his own Cross. And now, during our Lenten journey, Jesus invites us to once again take up our Cross, to carry our own Cross, to embrace our Cross, to follow him. In doing so - in taking up our Cross daily to follow Jesus - we will soon find that Jesus actually walks alongside us. Jesus is there to help us bear the weight of our Cross, our life, our discipleship. Jesus is there to transform our Cross into something new, something transfigured, something salvific.

Mountains and Valleys

During this Second Sunday of Lent, we hear of the Transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain. In this moment, the fullness of Jesus' identity is revealed to James, John, and Peter. The fullness of power, glory, and perfection in Jesus come to light. On the mountain, Jesus is illumined as the Beloved Son of God and the fulfillment of the Law and Prophets.

We want to always dwell on the mountain with Jesus. We want to hold onto these "mountain experiences" of our faith. We want to cling onto a faith that makes God's love in Jesus so close, so tangible, so real. Peter recognizes the goodness of dwelling in this place: "Lord, it is good that we are here!"

But, we can't always live on the mountain. As a wise priest once told me, life is lived in the valley.

Jesus' glorious Transfiguration reveals him as the Beloved Son of God, the One coming into the world, the humble servant who leaves the place of power to dwell with humanity. The Transfiguration will only make sense in light of Jesus' ultimate act of sacrifice: his suffering and death. 

Jesus teaches James, John, and Peter - and indeed, all of us - that true glory comes from emptying ourselves in order to do the will of God the Father.

If we want to dwell in the glory of God on the mountaintop, then we must first live in the valley of our lives. It is there that we will encounter the joys and struggles of our human nature, our sinful and imperfect self, our need for wholeness. In the valley, we know that our interior lives are in need of transfiguration. In the valley, we will also find a world that is still in need of conversion and transformation. When we live in the valley, we come to see and recognize the needs of others. We follow the call of Pope Francis to leave a mark in the world, to make somebody else's life better because they have encountered us. 

As we move forward this Lenten season, let us continue to live in the valley. Let us dwell in the interior valley of our lives and accompany others through their own valley. This is difficult and challenging work at times. Yet, we need not be frightened, for we hear the words of Jesus spoken to the disciples on the mountain and echoed throughout time and history. These are the same words Jesus shares with us as we journey from the valley to the mountain and back: "Rise, and do not be afraid."

Love Has a Face

[Note: The following is a reflection that was given on Monday night during St. Matthew's Parish Lenten Holy Hour.]

During a recent conversation with Bishop Bambera, I asked the bishop which Scripture image or passage he recommended I pray with during Lent, especially as I prepare for ordination to the transitional diaconate. Without skipping a beat, he said, “Matthew 25.” Bishop Bambera then explained to me why he thought this passage was so important: “Matthew 25 points beyond a lofty idea of serving our neighbor. In Matthew 25, Jesus gives us a very tangible, concrete, and fleshy expression of how we are to serve others.”

Love is concrete. Love is tangible. Love has a face. 

My friends, during these first days of Lent, we begin by looking to the future. We look to our end, to our Final Judgment. The entirety of our Christian pilgrimage is directed toward loving our God. And our God is only loved when we authentically serve Him in our neighbor. This love is not a fluffy, vague notion, but it is made manifest through real, tangible expressions.

-If you ever changed a diaper for your child or for your elderly parent;

-If you have ever cooked a meal for anybody who was hungry;

-If you helped change the tire of somebody left stranded on the side of the road;

-Or if you once got a cup of coffee with somebody who was in desperate need of human companionship …then you have served your neighbor. You have loved God who is hidden in your neighbor.

I was recently with two of our homeless friends. They were describing for me the time when they washed and groomed the hair of their companion who lives in a tent. His friends jumped back and laughed at the sight. Their friend had a head of hair that made him look like Jesus with a halo. “Maybe it was Jesus,” one of them said. If only they knew. If only they realized! Yes, this was indeed Jesus! Any act of kindness, any act of mercy, any act of love directed towards our brothers and sisters is done to Jesus. 

Love is concrete. Love is tangible. Love has a face.  

It takes eyes of faith to truly see Jesus present in the faces of those whom we serve with great and small gestures of love. And tonight, before the Blessed Sacrament, we are also challenged once again to have eyes of faith – to believe that Jesus is truly and completely here – in body, blood, soul, and divinity. Jesus who is present in the monstrance and tabernacle, is the same Jesus we receive from the altar of the Lord, is the same Jesus who comes to us as our hungry, thirsty, poor, imprisoned, naked, sick, homeless, and vulnerable sisters and brothers.

Our love of God and our love of neighbor is never to be fragmented, exclusive, or separated. Let’s recall the words written by Pope-emeritus Benedict XVI, who wrote: “A Eucharist which does not pass over into the concrete practice of love is intrinsically fragmented.” Our time here in Adoration of the Lord is to lead us to adore the abiding presence of Jesus in the least of our brothers and sisters.

This journey of selfless service to others is a journey of a lifetime! We will never do it perfectly! We may not always experience immediate, satisfying results. We may not always enjoy what we are doing. Still, we are called to be faithful and humble in our task. We are called to see with eyes of faith that in loving others, we are also expressing our love for God.

And at the end of our earthly pilgrimage, we believe that the Lord Jesus will one day greet us with those words of profound joy: “Come you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world…for whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”

Love is concrete. Love is tangible. Love has a face. 

Our Greatest Hunger

Jesus, what was your greatest hunger?

Was it self-sufficiency? Success? Power?

The desert wilderness is a lifeless and forsaken place. Yet, you were led there by God's Spirit. You must've been so hungry, so lonely, so vulnerable.

In that moment, the Evil One tried to dissuade you from your mission of proclaiming God's goodness, love, and salvation. The Evil One knew the humility and radical trust of your forthcoming mission and so he tapped into your deepest temptations, your deepest hungers.

Jesus, you were tempted to turn stone to bread. You could have done this. Easily. You were present at the creation of the cosmos. You are the Word from whom all receive life and existence. But you refused. You show us that our deepest hunger is to be radically dependent on God the Father. Everything - our food and drink, our clothing and homes, our jobs and families, our very life - is a gift from God. Jesus, you show us that we need not rely on ourselves, but that we can trust in God's generosity.

"Christ in the Desert" by Ivan Kramskoi

You were then tempted to jump off the highest point of the temple in Jerusalem. The Evil One reminded you that surely the angels would have intervened and protected you from any harm. And those who witnessed such a feat would surely recognize Jesus as the One sent from God! But Jesus, you again refuse. Did you know your mission would include being rejected by so many? Surely, you could have jumped and proven who you really were. You would have had many instant followers! But you trusted God's plan. It is not enough to be successful in your mission. Jesus, you teach us that faithfulness to God is greater than our vision of success.

And finally Jesus, the Evil One offered you authority over all the kingdoms of the world. Such immense and automatic power could have been yours, Jesus, if you only denied your mission. Did you know that you would tortured, and executed, and placed in a borrowed tomb? Power is surely more appetizing than powerlessness! Yet, you knew that true Lordship was won by renouncing yourself, taking up your cross, and following the Father's will. Jesus, you  overcame the temptation to hold and wield power. True power in the Kingdom of your Father means being the last, the least, and a servant.

In that desert wilderness, Jesus, you responded to the temptations of self-sufficiency, success, and power with faithfulness, trust, and selflessness. Help us to respond as you did, Jesus, for it is you alone who satisfy our greatest hunger.

The Heart of Lent

Ash Wednesday, as you know, marks the beginning of Lent. Throughout these forty days of Lent, we will recommit ourselves to our baptismal calling; we will recommit ourselves to following Jesus Christ.

This day - and this whole season - is marked by external signs of ashes, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. And while these external signs are good and important, they ought to point to a deeper, interior reality. These external signs manifest our heart's internal desire for change, transformation, and a deeper relationship with God.

Our readings today are filled with images of the heart. From the prophet Joel, we hear: "Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart, with fasting, and weeping, and mourning. Rend your hearts, and not your garments." And from the psalmist, we hear: "Create a clean heart within me, O God."

Whenever the Scriptures refer to the heart, the biblical writers speak of the heart as that interior place where we encounter God and God encounters us. The heart is that "private room" that Jesus speaks about in today's Gospel, that place where God speaks to us and sees our heart's desire. The heart is the place of our deepest longing, the contact point with God.

Sometimes, we allow sin, bad habits, vices, our possessions to cloud our heart's mind. We place a barrier between ourselves and God. Lent is a time for us to re-examine our hearts, to make sure we are "heart healthy," to restore our hearts, to be focused on our God.

Our Lenten practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving allow us to rid ourselves of anything that hinders our hearts from being transformed by God. During Lent, we fast from those things which we don't need in order to feast on that which we were made for: God's life and love within us.

As we go forth this Lent, let us remember that our hearts will never be truly satisfied until they rest in God's love and peace. Our hearts will be restless until we experience once more the salvation brought to us through Jesus Christ. "Behold, now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation!" 

Looking at the Rich Young Man

Many of us are seeking after something more for our lives. At times, we are confronted with the realization that our lives are incomplete. We want to fill the void. While many of us live good and upright lives, we still wrestle with the question whether our lives can have deeper meaning, direction, and purpose. 

And so, we become spiritual seekers like the rich young man in today's gospel passage from Mark 10:17-27. This internal struggle and journey of the rich young man leads him to Jesus. And it is in this encounter with Jesus that the rich young man asks: "Isn't there something more?"

Jesus never fails to respond to our seeking. Jesus, looking at the rich young man, loves him. Indeed, wherever we are on the journey of spiritual seeking, Jesus still loves us! It is from this foundation in love that Jesus then offers a challenge to the rich young man (and to us): "You are still lacking in one thing. Go, sell what you have, give it to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven. Then, come follow me." The rich young man goes away sad, for he has many possessions. 

What is our own response to Jesus' loving gaze and words of challenge? Can we detach ourselves from those things which hold us back from going deeper, from giving our lives meaning and purpose?

Whenever we seek out Jesus and encounter him, our lives will take a decisively new direction. Jesus will challenge us to go deeper, to go beyond living superficially. It might seem impossible for us to sell off our wealth or to let go of those things that possess us: ego, pride, past hurts. Living the gospel way is a real challenge to each and every spiritual seeker. This whole journey seems impossible! 

But then, with those same eyes of love, Jesus looks at those spiritual seekers surrounding him and says, "For men, it is impossible. But not for God. All things are possible with God."

The Way of the Saints

I am always amazed by the spirit of selflessness and love that is exemplified by those holy women and men who have gone before us. There is no shortage of inspiring stories! Our Christian saints are not untouchable statues on a pedestal, but real flesh-and-blood examples of how works of faith, solidarity, and kindness are stronger than hatred, division, and competition.

Br. Flavian with a member of the Kalidaha Fishing Project

Earlier this morning, I re-discovered the story of Brother Flavian Laplante, CSC. Brother Flavian was a Holy Cross brother who ministered to the poor and marginalized minorities in Bangladesh beginning in the 1930's. During the Japanese air raids on Chittagong in 1942 and during subsequent periods of illness and starvation, Brother Flavian ministered to the needs of the local people affected by the war. Brother Flavian cared especially for the Hindu minority in that area.

After the war, Brother Flavian ensured that the Bengali people received new fishing boats after theirs had been commandeered by the military. This Holy Cross brother also helped the fishermen get motors for their boats and tried to ease the burden of poverty for them and their families. Brother Flavian helped establish a school, an orphanage, and a women's resource center. All people in Bangladesh - Muslim, Hindu, and Christian - experienced the zeal, the passion, and the selfless love of this good man.

Near the end of his life, Brother Flavian began to live as a hermit. Beginning in 1978, he established an "ashram" where he resided. At this site, he encouraged a Marian pilgrimage. This tradition continues today. There, at the ashram, Brother Flavian lived in utter simplicity and in deep prayer, though he always welcomed guests who sought the wisdom of this holy man. Brother Flavian died in 1981 at the age of seventy-four.

Servant of God Flavian Laplante

In 2009, Brother Flavian was recognized as "Servant of God" by the Catholic Church. His life and work will continue to be explored by the Church until one day he is officially declared "Saint " by the Church.

I am inspired by this saintly man. He wasn't perfect nor was the world around him perfect. However, Brother Flavian was able to respond to the needs and crises of his time with generosity, courage, and love. In our own time, we are being called to respond with the gift of our lives.

Like Brother Flavian, we are being summoned to care for the weak, the vulnerable, and the "other." We are called to work alongside others, never considering ourselves better or superior. When we take upon ourselves the selfless spirit of Christ, just as Brother Flavian did, we will be able to live as "brother" and "sister" to all of humanity. This is the way of Jesus Christ. This is the way of the saints.