Monday of Holy Week

In introducing reflections on the Lenten Season, I made reference to a splendid book by George Weigel, Roman Pilgrimage.  In this fascinating work, the author presents insightful Lenten reflections tied to the traditional stational churches in the city of Rome that from ancient times have been associated with each day of the Lenten Season.  In the early years of the faith, the Pope would journey each day to these venerable churches where he would celebrate the Eucharist.  The tradition of visiting the statio of each Lenten day has been revived by the seminarians at the North American College and forms a central focus of the Lenten itinerary of conversion. 

The Stational Church for the Monday of Holy Week is St. Praxedes, located near St. Mary Major, and is one of the jewels of the stational churches.  Elizabeth Lev, the superb art historian who provided the historical and architectural narrative on the stational churches for Weigel’s book, explains the importance of St. Praxedes:

“Pope St. Paschal I (817–824), whose efforts to return beauty to the Eternal City led to the creation of many examples of luminous art in the “Dark Ages,” rebuilt this church near an earlier titulus (documented in 491) dedicated to St. Praxedes. Paschal’s entrance still exists in the portico facing Via San Martino ai Monti; remnants of the antique church remain in the sixteen granite columns lining the nave and in an architrave of carved Roman cornices. The powerfully articulated nave leads to a mosaic-encrusted triumphal arch, the gateway to the apse, altar, and crypt, into which Paschal transferred the remains of 2,300 martyrs from the suburban catacombs.”

Apsal Arch with a rondel in mosaic of the name "Paschal"

St. Praxedes presents the pilgrim with some of the most splendid 9th century mosaic work in all of Rome.  The chapel of St. Zeno is a resplendent example of this breathtaking artistry.  Again, quoting Lev:

Ceiling of the St. Zeno Chapel

“Paschal I built the glorious St. Zeno Chapel in honor of his mother, Theodora. Its unique, wall-to-wall mosaics create a golden vision of heaven; precious columns line the four corners, capped with golden capitals from which angels seem to reach to the vault’s summit, where Christ Pantocrator looks serenely down. The sarcophagus of the two sister-martyrs, under the altar, inspired a young Italian student, Giovanni Battista de Rossi, to begin exploring the catacombs; in 1864, de Rossi published the first scientific work of Christian archaeology.

St. Zeno Chapel

Rondel of Christ from the ceiling mosaic of the St. Zeno Chapel

Excerpt From: George Weigel, Elizabeth Lev & Stephen Weigel. “Roman Pilgrimage.” iBooks.

Passion Sunday

My brothers and sisters, once again the Church invites us to enter into these final days of the Lord’s earthly existence as we begin the Holiest Week of the Church’s year of grace. The liturgies of this week and most particularly the solemn liturgies of the Easter Triduum beginning with the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday evening and culminating with the great feast of Easter next Sunday are days that invite us to enter into the meaning of the Lord’s death and resurrection for each of us. 

Why was this good and righteous man nailed to the wood of the cross as a common criminal?  Why the ambivalence of the crowds who in one moment cried out “Hosanna” and in the next “Crucify Him?”  Why the cowardice of a few of his own followers whose love for him could so easily turn to “I don’t know the man” or betrayal with a kiss?

The dark side of humanity becomes all too apparent in the sacred story of this week - a story of betrayal, cowardice, and our inhumanity in the face of such goodness.

Each of us in our own way have been touched by the darkness of this world.  Each of us in our own way have sadly contributed to that story of betrayal, cowardice and inhumanity.

Yet, the story and gift of this week is not to end in despair.  But rather, the meaning of this week is the story of unconquerable love that is stronger than betrayal, cowardice,  and death itself.  It is a week in which we celebrate, as St. Paul reminds us today, the obedience of one who embraced the totality of our human condition - even death itself - so that we might come to experience the transforming hope and glory of a love that can make all things new.   My brothers and sisters, this week will not end on Golgotha but rather will lead to the empty tomb that for 2000 years has spoken of unending hope because love is indeed stronger than death.

And so, may we enter this week with humility so that the grace and gift of his life may brighten the darkness of our lives and fill us with hope in the one who makes all things new by his cross and glorious resurrection. 

We can only speak of hope

One of the cherished gifts given to me on my ordination to the priesthood was an original signed serigraph by the contemporary California artist and, at the time, a member of the Immaculate Heart of Mary religious community, Sr. Corita Kent.  Influenced by the artistic trends of the time, including ‘pop art,’ she developed a unique style incorporating vibrant colors together with text.  The texts could range from phrases culled from grocery store items, such as “Wonder Bread” and its association to the Eucharist, to evocative quotations from contemporary authors.  My gift was emblazoned with a quote from the French philosopher and Christian existentialist, Gabriel Marcel.  It reads:

We can only speak of hope

My relationship to myself is mediated by the presence of the other person, by what he is for me and what I am for him. To love any body is to expect something from him, something which can neither be defined nor forseen; it is at the same time in someway to make it possible for him to fulfill this expectation Yes, paradoxical as it may seem, to expect is in someway to give: but the opposite is none the less true; no longer to expect is to strike with the sterility the being from whom no more is expected. It is then in some way to deprive him or to take from him in advance what is surely a certain possibility of inventing or creating. Everything looks as though we can only speak of hope where the interaction exists between him who gives and him who receives.

This beautiful quote has served me well over the years, pointing to a key element in leadership.  Leadership of integrity always involves the element of reciprocity. Good leaders never lead in isolation or are foolish enough to think that they alone ‘can fix’ the challenging problems of our contemporary society. Wisdom in leadership emerges out of the respectful civil ‘give and take’ between those who lead and those who are being led.  The genius of the framers of our Constitution is rooted precisely in this creative tension between our elected officials and those who have elected them.  The tripartite structure of governance, the Executive, the Legislative and the Judicial, function best when there is a respectful and civil reciprocity between these three branches of governance – a reciprocity that, in respecting their relative independence, serve best the common good.

I fear that these days, reciprocity and civility are becoming rare commodities in the forging of the common good.  Never before have I witnessed such polarization, animosity and incivility in what was at one time considered the noble profession of the politician. Sadly, much of it is emerging from the top. Gridlock and name calling, demonization of the motives of others and a lack of interest in achieving compromise, feed the present toxic political malaise.  I was struck this weekend when the respected senator from Arizona, John McCain, in an interview with David Axelrod on CNN, stated that he “is more worried about this country than I’ve been in my entire life.”

In the face of such a crisis, it is the virtue of hope, forged through the messiness of dialogue with ‘the other,’ that will save us.   

Fifth Sunday of Lent - Death gives way to life

He cried out in a loud voice, 
"Lazarus, come out!"
The dead man came out,
tied hand and foot with burial bands, 
and his face was wrapped in a cloth.
So Jesus said to them,
"Untie him and let him go."

One of my cherished possessions is a simple ordination holy card given to me by a priest friend at the time of his ordination in 1973.  These cards have been used for centuries to mark this memorable moment and as a remembrance for family and friends.  Styles have obviously changed through the years but in 1973, contemporary and almost quasi-pop art was de rigueur.  The card was a contemporary graphic with the words: Friendship doubles our joy and divides our grief.  That beautiful maxim has stayed with me all these years and I often use it in the context of funeral homilies.  For, indeed, the gift of friendship expands the richness of our lives and can carry us through the inevitable challenges that all life brings.

In reflecting on Jesus, there’s a tendency among Christians to focus attention on his divinity, at the expense of his humanity.  While Catholic dogma is clear in articulating our belief that Jesus is “true God and true man,” there is always a tendency to give priority to his divinity over his humanity.  Biblical scholars would say that a ‘high Christology’ seems to win out over a ‘low Christology!’  There is, of course, a mystery that we are wrestling with here as we plunge the theological depths to comprehend the intricacies of the ‘hypostatic’ union.  Nevertheless, more often than not, the human Jesus gives way to the Divine.

The beautiful story of the raising of Lazarus captures for us and holds both the human and divine Jesus in a dramatic and moving tension.  The scriptures are amazingly candid in speaking of the close bonds of friendship that the Lord had with Martha, Mary and their brother Lazarus.  Jesus enjoyed their hospitality as he shared meals with them and rested from the incessant demands of his public ministry.  Jesus could rest in their company and companionship.

No wonder then that on hearing of the death of ‘his friend’ Lazarus, we have recorded the shortest verse in the Scriptures (Jn. 11:35) It is quite simply, “Jesus wept.”  It is the obvious, thoroughly human emotion that one experiences at the loss of a dearly loved friend.

The author did not record this story merely to convey the humanity of the Lord in all its anguish in the face of human loss, but to capture another dimension of the Christ, the Lord of creation.  In response to Martha’s desolation, Jesus proclaims the very essence of his ministry as the ‘anointed one.’  He proclaims, "I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"  He invites her faith in the one who has power over the forces of death and life.

The dramatic encounter continues as the Lord is led to the tomb of Lazarus.  It is precisely here, amid the wailing and desolation of family and friends, that Jesus himself is moved with the deepest emotion and weeps.  Yet, the God-man, would not and could not let this moment be the final chapter is this story of loving friendship.  He commands that the stone from the tomb be rolled back and cries out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out.”  At the Messiah’s command, the dead man came out, still bound with the traditional burial wrappings.  Jesus commands, “Untie him and let him go.”

My sisters and brothers, that same Jesus, whose loving friendship we have all been called to, stands before us this day and speaks those same words of liberation over whatever may hold us bound or captive; whatever fears that may paralyze us; whatever heaviness of heart that may enchain us.  Untie him or her and let them go.  For this amazing grace, let us give God thanks!

I like to eat everything!

Unless you are an absolute curmudgeon priest, one of the delightful requests that you often hear as a parish priest is, “Father, we’d love for you to come over for dinner!”  Over the years of my active priesthood, I’m still charmed and delighted by this invitation.  It is usually followed by, “Is there anything that you don’t eat?”  Honestly, for whatever reason, from my earliest years as a child, I was never a fussy eater.  Part of that could very well have been because my mom was an excellent cook.  Practically every evening we had a home cooked meal that virtually spanned the globe of world cuisine.  My mom’s ancestral heritage was Mexican/Spanish.  With this genetic background, she was particularly skilled at preparing Mexican food, especially the New Mexican variety from where her mother originated.  Red and green chile prepared from scratch were a weekly staple at the table.  Freshly made beans with warm tortillas as well as all-time favorites such enchiladas, beef in red chile, and, of course, tamales at Christmas, were all staples at the Holquin table.  But mom had also mastered Italian cuisine as well as good old Americana cuisine with her legendary pot roast. Needless to say, I was raised with a somewhat spoiled palate!

This past Christmas, my sister, Melinda, gave me a wonderful and unique gift. It was one of those genetic ancestry kits. This one was from Ancestry.com. I dutifully supplied the specimen required – a little saliva in a vile – and off it went to be analyzed.  It took a bit longer for me to get the results, probably due to the Christmas rush.  Then, out of the blue, I got an email from Ancestry telling me that the results were ready and available online.  I logged on to their site and low and behold, the mystery of my ‘catholic’ palate was revealed!

My stock response from folks who inquired about my nationality was invariably:: Mexican, Spanish and a little French and German.  Most of that information was culled from anecdotal family stories.  Little did I know just how varied my ancestral genetic make-up was.  Here are the raw numbers:

29%     Native American – North, Central & South American

25%     Italy/Greece

14%      Ireland

10%     Iberian Peninsula

6%       Great Britain

4%       Africa

3%       European Jewish

3%       Scandinavia

2%       Europe West

2%       West Asia

1%        Finland

Reflecting on this genetic “Heinz 57” variety background, things started to fall into place with innumerable “Ah ha” moments.  In my traveling days, there was a preternatural love for Italy and Greece.  Having lived there and traveled there often, there was always a strange feeling of ‘being at home.’  Next to Mexican cuisine, I rank Italian right up there as some of my favorite.  My love from my earliest years for Greek and Byzantine culture, love of icons and humus, seems to make a lot more sense now.  In all honesty, though, the one that really threw me for a loop was the 14% Irish!  Where the heck did that one come???  Although I do have a great love for corned beef  – which I understand is not all that popular in Ireland – this part of my ancestral make up came as a total and complete surprise.

All of this has piqued my interest to explore in greater detail my genetic make-up.  Another site, 23andMe, trace with greater specificity, the matrilineal and patrilineal genetic lines that can shed more light on this incredible discovery and help explain, Why I like to eat everything!

Fourth Sunday of Lent - Seeing with Vision

As Jesus passed by he saw a man blind from birth.
His disciples asked him,
"Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, 
that he was born blind?"
Jesus answered,
"Neither he nor his parents sinned; 
it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.

To be deprived of one of our precious senses would be a tragedy indeed.  Yet, there is something about being deprived of our sight, whether from birth or as a consequence of a disease or accident later in life, that is particularly difficult and challenging.  To see, enables us to interact so effortlessly with the world around us – to take in its beauty, to be engaged with the gift of creation. 

No wonder then that the miracle story that we have heard today from the Gospel of John, of the healing of the man born blind, holds such power and importance for us, not only from the purely human perspective, but also for us as a people of faith.

These healing stories are invariably powerful metaphors that speak to us of the truth of the Gospel touching so many dimensions of our life in Christ.  It is not by accident that this story appears mid-way through our Lenten itinerary of conversion.  From the earliest centuries of our faith, this story of the light of sight flooding into the eyes of the man born blind by the power of the Master, has held a place of prominence.  As many of you know, the origin of the Lenten Season is intimately rooted in the ancient days of final preparation of the unbaptized for their new life in Christ through the Sacraments of Christian Initiation at Easter.  The great baptismal themes of darkness giving way to light, despair giving way to unfailing hope, death giving way to eternal life, are mirrored in these stories.

Our story today, then, is one that is far more concerned with the gift of vision than merely the gift of sight.  I’m sure many of you, like me, have met individuals who may see perfectly, but lack vision in life.  Our towns and cities are overflowing with the hopeless and anxious, for whom the chapters of their lives are one dead end after another.  Seeing perfectly well but lacking a hope-filled vision for the future, they live the proverbial lives of quiet desperation.  Then, there are others, who may physically be deprived of sight as a result of, let’s say a war injury or some other tragic mishap, yet, they rail against the darkness and will not let this misfortune of nature rob them of their vision for life.  They will not be defined by this disability.

My friends, Christ has come to gift each one of us with the vision of seeing with God’s heart and mind, with the vision that hope in his saving mercy and unfailing love gives to us. It was this kind of vision that enabled Samuel to see in little David, a great leader for his people. And, it is this kind of vision that the Lord wanted for that man who was graced to hear and see Jesus the day of his miracle.

And so, sisters and brothers, as we gather this day for the great remembrance at this Table of grace and blessing, may we hunger for far more than just sight this day. May we pray for the vision of the Lord, that it may sustain us and fill us with joy all the days of our life.

Wednesday of the 3rd Week of Lent - Forgetfulness

However, take care and be earnestly on your guard not to forget the things which your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your memory as long as you live, but teach them to your children and to your children's children.                                            

It has been said that the great sin of the Israelite people was the sin of forgetfulness.  Whenever they forgot all that the Lord had done for them in creation and liberation, in His unfailing loving kindness and mercy toward them, they fell into sin.  They compromised the covenant.  Their forgetfulness led to infidelity – their unfaithfulness to the God who loved them into existence.  The role of the Prophet, raised up in the history of the Israelite people was to call them to remembrance.  The Prophets were the conscience of Israel.  Their message to their hearers was, quite simply, to ‘not forget the things which your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your memory as long as you live…’ As people of the new covenant, our gathering for the ‘great remembrance’ at the Table of the Lord, remains the Lord’s unfailing invitation to each one of us to never forget our deepest identity as the Lord’s baptized.  May the grace of this moment and the journey of this Season of Conversion, keep us devoted to the Lord with all our heart and be ever united in prayer.

Christ Cathedral Renovation - I

One of the most rewarding and fulfilling experiences in my near 43 years of ministry has occurred in these past five years with the Diocesan acquisition of the former Crystal Cathedral campus in Garden Grove.  Shortly after the acquisition, I was asked by Bishop Tod Brown, to be part of a team to assist in the ‘repurposing’ and transformation of the existing Crystal Cathedral into Christ Cathedral, the mother church for our Diocese.  Since that time, the Liturgical Renovation Committee working closely with the myriad of other committees, consultants, musicians, architects, artists and contractors, engaged in this Herculean task, has completed the bulk of its work.  We are now poised to begin in earnest the interior transformation of the iconic Philip Johnson structure, one of the great religious architectural statements of the last century.  The following video prepared by the Office for Communications of the Diocese of Orange, provides an excellent visual overview to the work that has been accomplished to date.

Since I have personally been involved with virtually all aspects of this projects since its inception, I will periodically be sharing different aspects of this exciting project via this Blog.  Early on in the project, it became apparent that the Great Hazel Wright Memorial organ, installed shortly after the completion of the sanctuary, by the esteemed Italian organ builders, Fratelli Ruffatti, was in need of substantial restoration.  While the great windows of the Cathedral that would dramatically open from time to time behind Dr. Robert Schuller, became a signature element of this building, they also brought in the outside environment with its pollutants that are anathema for any pipe organ. Added to this, the constant sunlight in a space that was not temperature controlled, together with the yearly performances of the Joy of Christmas and Easter with artificial smoke and flying angels, not to mention a wandering camel or two, adversely impacted the delicate pipe work. Restoration was a must if this instrument was to serve the worshipping community in the years to come.

With the encouragement of our new Bishop, Kevin Vann, and thanks to the generous support of a growing number of financial donors, the restoration project began some five years ago.  With nearly half of the 16,000 pipes transported to the Ruffatti workshop in Padua, Italy, together with the 5-manual organ console, the restoration is now completed.  The organ and all of its restored pipes and console are now in temperature controlled storage, awaiting installation in the renovated Christ Cathedral.

Restored Console

The process of re-installation and tuning to what will be the new ‘lively’ acoustical environment within the Cathedral will take a number of months.  Workers from Italy together with those with trained ears to scale and tune each pipe to their ‘renovated environment’ will result in a sound this side of heaven! We anticipate completion sometime in the latter part of 2018 or early 2019.

Life is about Change

One of the lovely quotes attributed to St. Francis of Assisi is: Preach the Gospel always and sometimes use words! That quote continues to take on even greater meaning for me as I experience transitions and changes in my priesthood. Nearing my 43rd anniversary of ordination this coming May and having been challenged in the last seven years with an extremely rare neurological condition that has impacted normal mobility and, in this past year, my speech, one looks for new possibilities for ‘preaching the Gospel!’ The proverbial adage, When God closes one door, He opens another, has been experienced in so many wonderful ways in these many years of ministry. And now, as my formal retirement nears, I’m excited about transitioning to continuing to preach as well as offer reflections through the medium of this Rector Emeritus Blog.

One of the experiences that invariably defines and shapes one’s priesthood is the Eucharistic Celebration and the near daily and weekly experience of ‘breaking open’ the Word of God.  For 43 years, a weekend would hardly go by without the careful crafting of a Sunday homily.  My seminary homiletics professor, Fr. Charles Miller, C.M., would drill into the minds of his seminary students, the need to carefully write out one’s homily and make it one’s own, limiting it to no more than seven minutes!  I think it is safe to say that all of us have endured what I refer to as a homily that goes on forever, like a plane in distress that is desperately looking for a place to land! Paradoxically, little preparation leads to meandering and painfully long homilies.  Whereas, careful, thoughtful and thorough preparation can lead to finally crafted homilies where the Good News can come alive to transform hearts and minds of both homilist and congregation – in seven minutes or less!

And so, with this Blog, my weekly ‘homilizing’ can continue, perhaps, for an even larger ‘congregation!’. Together with a weekly homiletic reflection, this Blog provides an avenue for other reflections touching timely issues impacting the Church today as well as the occasional commentary on social and political issues that can impact our life in the spirit.

Feel free to forward whatever might strike you as insightful or important to others. Share the Good News!

THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT - Life-Giving Water

The word ‘crisis’ seems to be used with ever growing frequency these days.  We speak of the crisis of global terrorism, the economic crisis, the environmental crisis, the immigration crisis, the crisis of crime in our society and the opiate addiction crisis.  Well, that litany, sadly could go on and on.  Few, if any of us, however would add to that list the crisis in the availability of safe drinking water for the people of our world.  Yet, my friends, the simple earthly reality that I would suspect every one of us tends to take for granted, is a rare and precious commodity for millions of our sisters and brothers around the world.  The World Health Organization states that 663 million people lack access to safe drinking water, or 1 in 10 of the world’s population.  Twice the population of the United States lives without access to safe drinking water.  In January, 2015, the World Economic Forum rated the water crisis as the #1 global risk based on its impact to society and as a measure of global devastation.

As one of the basic elements that sustains life on mother earth, water and its meaning down through the ages has rightly taken on mythic proportion. It is a fact of nature that without water, we die.  Water sustains life, not only our own life as humans, but all life.  It is no wonder then that in God’s revealed word, water takes on symbolic significance.  At the very dawn of creation, the Spirit of God hovers over the chaotic waters to bring order and life.  The waters of the great flood would eventually recede saving a grateful generation that would be the seed of God’s great covenant with His people.  The waters of the Red Sea would dramatically part as the Israelites continued their pilgrimage toward freedom in the Promised Land.

Today’s beautiful gospel story of a seemingly innocent encounter between the Master and a Samaritan woman who has gone to the village well to draw water, becomes a metaphor for the thirst in every human heart that can never be quenched by water alone.  Having pursued love and satisfaction in all the wrong places, her inner thirst longs to be quenched.  And now this stranger, who dares to speak with human kindness, compassion and mercy to a ‘heretic’ Samaritan, not only understands her restlessness and thirst but speaks a word of promise that her longing has found fulfillment – in Him, the living word of life, the Savior of the world.

My friends, how thirsty are you to let the Savior satisfy the restlessness of your hearts?  Do our momentary obsessions to gratify our immediate needs blind us from the One who can truly satisfy our deepest hopes, dreams and desires?  May the grace of this Season of Penitence, open our hearts so that we too can say with the Lord’s companions, “Lord, to whom shall we go, you alone have the words of everlasting life.”

RITES OF PURIFICATION AND HEALING

Historically, the roots of the Lenten Season are tied to the final days of intense preparation for catechumens as they near the Easter Sacraments.  The Elect, as they are now called, enter into intense preparation for their sacramental initiation into the Church through Baptism, Confirmation and reception of the Eucharist at Easter.  This process of preparation, called ‘the catechumenate’ was ritually reinstituted into the Church by the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) after centuries of dormancy.  Certainly, adults were welcomed into the church prior to this reform, but their preparation and the liturgy that was used, lacked the rich ritual symbolism that we now witness in the restored Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults.

On the Third, Fourth and Fifth Sundays of the Lenten Season, the catechumens, now called ‘The Elect’ following their call by the Bishop to intense preparation as the completion of their long-awaited journey nears, will hear moving Gospel stories that help to bring out the significance of these days of grace and blessing for them.

On the Third Sunday of Lent in the A cycle, we hear the Gospel from St. John that speaks of the Lord’s encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well.  The theme of ‘life-giving’ water is highlighted in this beautiful encounter.  The Lord who knows the deepest secrets of our heart, senses the ‘thirst’ that this woman has for a reality that will finally bring peace to her searching heart.  That search will find its ultimate meaning in the One who speaks with her.

On the Fourth Sunday of Lent, in the story of the healing of the man born blind, the theme of darkness giving way to light presents another important dimension of the Christian journey.  The Elect are journeying to the ‘light’ that can never be extinguished.  Through the Sacraments of Initiation, they will be ‘enlightened’ by the transformation of their hearts and minds by the light of Christ’s unfailing grace and mercy.

Finally, on the Fifth Sunday of Lent as we near the Great Week, the Gospel story is that of the raising of Lazarus from the dead.  Lazarus and his family, privileged to be called friends of the Lord, dies.  His family summon Jesus.  Moved by compassion and love, the Lord calls Lazarus from the tomb and commands that ‘he be set free.’  From death to life, we too come forth from the waters of baptism, reborn in grace to take up the mission of Jesus.  With St. Paul, we too can now say, “Death where is your sting…”  For death has been conquered by the cross of Christ, and the Lord’s rising to new life becomes our ultimate transformation to Glory.

Second Sunday of Lent - Transfigured to Glory

Our ability to be vulnerable to others can often be the door that lets them see us as we really are. It can be the pathway that leads to greater friendship, intimacy and personal transfiguration.

Some years ago an individual in his late 30s whom I came to know over the years, though not well, greeted me after Sunday morning mass. Something inside me - perhaps a pastoral sense developed over the years - was telling me, “there’s something wrong here.” I asked him if he was alright and he hesitated for a moment. Then he spoke quietly and said that two days before he had been diagnosed with a potentially life threatening medical condition. Surgery was to take place in just a few days to arrest the progress of the condition as well as determine the possible extent of the disease. Coming over to my office, he spent the next half hour letting down the inevitable guard that so many of us project in the course of any day, as he shared with me his fears and anxieties, his worries for his wife and children, and his own wrestling with the unexpected face of mortality. Through tears as well as laughter, we both came to realize that in our mutually hectic lives we had failed to take the time to realize how much we meant to one another. We discovered that our acquaintanceship was really a friendship of mutual respect and admiration that just never found the time to be spoken or celebrated. This moment of crisis became also for us a time to discover something wonderful about ourselves and one another. Thanks be to God, the surgery was a success, the prognosis for complete recovery excellent, and a friendship continued to grow.

My friends, our Gospel story today of the Transfiguration, is not unlike the countless graced moments you are I are privileged to experience in the course of our lives. Graced moments that can give us a glimpse of a reality that carries us through the difficulties and challenges, the heartaches and moments of darkness that will inevitably mark our lives. For Peter, James and John - intimate friends of Jesus - their graced moment came on that mountain top when Jesus revealed to them another dimension of himself that would mark their lives forever and carry them through the dark moments that were ahead. They had come to know him as Rabbi, Master and Teacher. But now, away from the busyness of their everyday lives, alone with him on the mountain top, he revealed his deepest identity to them. They glimpsed the glory of the anointed one foretold by the prophets and longed for by the people of the covenant. This moment of vulnerability when Jesus revealed his deepest identity to his friends would carry them through the dark valley of the days that were before them in Jerusalem to the glory of the Resurrection.

My brothers and sisters, each of us holds the potential of revealing the face of God to one another. More often than not, however, the work of personal transfiguration is not realized in some idyllic spiritual setting but rather in the midst of the messiness of our everyday lives. More often than not, our opportunity to reveal the face of God to others is celebrated in moments of forgiveness between a husband and wife; in the care and devotion given to a sick child; in the tough love that a father or mother may give to a teenage son or daughter; in the quiet bedside companionship given to a dying parent ; in the risks we take to move from acquaintanceships to friendships, in our vulnerability to love and be loved by others.

May our Lenten journey give us the courage to look for and celebrate the countless graced moments of transfiguration that are before us each day. And in them, may we come to know the presence of God in our lives.

A Soli Deo Gloria

My love affair with the music of Johann Sebastian Bach began in grammar school.  Neither my mother nor father were classical music fans.  They were mostly Big Band and Montovani fans.  My sister was given piano lessons but I was never afforded such an opportunity.  So, where did such passion for the music of ‘the greatest composer that ever lived’ come from?  The spark for this love was ignited at Church.  We were fortunate to have a wonderfully talented music director in our suburban Catholic parish in the 1950’s.  The extremely modest little Baldwin electronic organ accompanied the choir as they sang the weekly Missa Cantata.  Every now and then, Bach would be played on what could only be described as ‘an appliance!’  Nevertheless, I was hooked.  In High School, a great mentor in music and the arts was an aficionado of the organ and would take me to organ recitals.  Because of ‘Mr. Diaz’s’ mentoring, I was fortunate to hear some of the great organists of the 20th century in recital.  I will never forget a recital given by the then organiste titulare of Notre Dame, the legendary, Pierre Cochereau.  He concluded his recital by receiving a sealed envelope from the music director of the church.  In it was a simple one line melody from which he improvised a spine-tingling organ symphony!  The last time I saw Maestro Cochereau was at the dedication of the Hazel Wright Memorial organ in the then “Crystal Cathedral.”  Providentially, as one of the liturgical consultants on our Diocesan Christ Cathedral project, I was privileged to chair the restoration committee for “Hazel.”  The two-year restoration is now completed and the great organ awaits installation in its new home in the renovated Christ Cathedral in 2018.

One of the memorable moments in hearing the organ music of Bach occurred while I was pursuing post graduate studies in Europe.  I was in Paris with friends and attended the Easter Vigil at the incredibly beautiful Church of St-Séverin on the Left Bank. The extended Liturgy of the Word was completed as well as the Baptisms of the Elect.  All was readied for the Liturgy of the Eucharist to begin.  As the gifts were brought to the Holy Table, the organist began Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in G-major as the altar and gifts were reverenced with clouds of fragrant incense.  A veritable glimpse of heaven!

First Sunday of Lent - Seeing with Moral Clarity

I first became aware that I was terribly nearsighted when I was in the 4th grade.  My father, an avid sportsman, would take me out in the backyard to play catch.  I think he was hoping that I would share his passionate love for baseball and would soon participate in our neighborhood Little League team.  There was only one problem – a big problem – I couldn’t catch the ball!  The more we practiced, the more I got hit – on my arm, on my leg, on my head.  With an apparent vengeance, the ball landed everywhere but the mitt.  Finally, after an eye exam, the optometrist quickly got to the core of my baseball problem.  I just could not see the ball coming until it was too late and then I’d get hit.  Well, the upshot of the story is, that by the time the diagnosis came and I began to sport glasses, you guessed it, I hated baseball!

My vision problems, my ability to see clearly the things up close and not far away, presents us with a possible analogy for the struggle that is part and parcel of our human condition, the struggle with temptation and sin. On this First Sunday of the Lenten Season, the Church traditionally sets before us in the Gospel, the story of the Lord’s own temptation by the evil one in the desert.  This is preceded by the earliest Scriptural account of temptation in the Book of Genesis, the storied eating of the forbidden fruit by Eve. 

My friends, at the heart of all temptation is the allure of something that in our limited or short sighted moral perspective seems to be, appears to be, wonderful, good and pleasurable.  Temptation rarely if ever is the attraction for us to knowingly reach out for something that is obviously evil or self-destructive.  The temptation to infidelity begins with the alluring attraction to the beauty and goodness of another person.  It is only when we put on the vision of the moral values that give ultimate meaning to our lives, do we realize and see the bigger picture – that this lovely person belongs to someone else and we too have commitments of faithfulness that ultimately would make such a decision a violation of all that it means to be a person of moral integrity, truth and goodness.

Just as it took a good eye doctor to help diagnose my problem with catching a baseball, providing glasses enabling me to see with greater perspective, so it is for us as people of faith.  We are all in constant need of broadening and deepening our moral vision that gives us the perspective of doing something so absolutely fundamental and essential in living out our life of faith daily – doing good and avoiding evil.

That is why, my friends, this Season of Lent is so important.  We began this Season last Wednesday as we heard the words, Repent and believe in the Gospel, prayed over us as ashes were placed on our foreheads.  Clarity in our moral vision begins with honestly and humbly acknowledging that we are all in need of the healing mercy of our loving God.  The courage to do good and to resist the allure of temptation, requires the grace to keep before our eyes the bigger picture of our lives, the eternal destiny to which we have been called by the Lord.  The grace to resist the incessant call to give in to immediate gratification and to live for the eternal values that Christ, lived, died and rose for, is what repentance and Christian conversion is all about.

May this Lent be a time for all of us to drink deeply of this grace and in doing so, see clearly the life to which we have all been called to live in Christ.

A Daily Pilgrimage

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

One of the most memorable experiences that was part of my last Sabbatical to Rome some years ago, was accompanying the seminarians at the North American College, where I lived, on their daily pilgrimage during the Lenten Season to one of the historic ‘Stational Churches’ in the city of Rome.  This ancient practice, revived in modern times by the students at the North American College, traces its origin to the first centuries of the Church in Rome.  During each of these privileged 40 days, the Bishop of Rome, would go in procession with his clergy to one of the ancient Churches of that city.  These Churches were often built on the site of the home of holy ones who often gave their lives as martyrs for the faith.  In time, each of the days of Lent were assigned one of these ancient and historic Churches as the statio or station in which the Eucharist would be celebrated that day.  

And so, today, before the sun rises, seminarians, priests and pilgrims can be seen going on foot to these ancient shrines that narrate the early stories of our faith, to break the bread of the Eucharist and be spiritually fortified for our Lenten journey.

Some years ago, George Weigel wrote a fascinating and inspiring book on the revival of this ancient practice entitled, Roman Pilgrimage: The Station Churches.  I have found this excellent book my daily companion each Lent, providing spiritual enrichment, insight as well as a fascinating background to these historic Churches.  The book provides a daily reflection on both the Scriptures proclaimed for the given day in the Lenten Eucharist together with the readings in the Liturgy of the Hours.  Each day concludes with an historical overview to the Stational church of the day.  These reflections are prepared by the extremely knowledgeable art historian, Elizabeth Lev.  While on sabbatical, Ms. Lev, gave a number of tours for us of historic churches in Rome.  She is a treasury of information.

Pilgrimage is a beautiful metaphor for our lives in Christ.  Each day, week, month and year that God gives us provides the opportunity to journey with him, through his dying and rising.  His Paschal journey through life, death and resurrection, is our journey too as the baptized of the Lord.

May these days of penitence and grace draw us ever closer to the Lord of our lives as we prepare for that day when we are one with him for all eternity.

Always forward!
Msgr. Art

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Santi Giovanni e Paolo

Roman Pilgrimage: The Station Churches

By George Weigel, Elizabeth Lev, Stephen Weigel

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

There is probably no more powerful symbol of our beloved country than the statue of liberty that stands proudly in the New York City harbor.  Gifted by the people of France to their friends in the United States in the 19th century, it continues to stand as a beacon of the very best of our country.  While many of us know this famous structure by its common name, the statue of liberty, I was intrigued to find out recently the formal name that this symbol of our country carries, given it by the French – Liberty Enlightening the World.

For the millions of immigrants and those seeking asylum in our country down through the decades, this title captures the power of its meaning for the peoples fleeing despotic governments, demagogues, poverty, and racism, to taste and breath the endless opportunities that freedom promises in this blessed land of opportunity.

In many respects, this symbol of our deepest and most honored identity as a nation reflects the power and challenge of the Lord’s own words to us enshrined in the Gospel of Matthew.  You are the light of the world.  My friends, our identity as followers of Jesus is to be that light in the midst of the all too common darkness that still enslaves so many of our sisters and brothers in the human family.

It was this image of our nation as a light for others that remained a favorite theme of our 40th President, Ronald Reagan.  In his farewell speech to the nation on January 11, 1989 he eloquently stated:

"I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind, it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That's how I saw it, and see it still."

I find these words all the more eloquent and prescient as we find ourselves in this present moment of tension in our country.  I have spoken often homiletically, invoking that beautiful image of Abraham Lincoln, that of being attentive to the better angels of our nature.  Now, more than ever, it is that attentiveness that is needed.

As Christians, it is of course, the call of Jesus, his way, his good news, the enduring values that he himself exemplified so powerfully in his life and ministry that must be the north star of our own lives that bear his name.  It must be this vision that shapes all our choices and decisions as faithful citizens of this land.  For it is this vision and its values that remain as a healthy corrective to the nativism, misguided nationalism and isolationism that are so unworthy of our great nation and its heritage.

The enduring words of the Prophet Isaiah, that we have heard this day, provide a challenging clarion call to us all of our deepest and truest identity as citizens of this land of freedom and opportunity:

"Share your bread with the hungry,
shelter the oppressed and the homeless;
clothe the naked when you see them,
and do not turn your back on your own.
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn…"

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Brothers and Sisters, we have all heard the expression at one time or another:  Familiarity breeds contempt.  I’ ve learned over the years that more often than not, familiarity, rather than engendering ‘ contempt,’  has a way of lulling us into a complacent, ‘ take it for granted’  attitude.  While this is only natural in so many areas of our life, it is lethal when it comes to the vitally important realities in our life.  To take for granted the relationships and friendships that give our life their ultimate meaning can spell devastation in our emotional lives.  Many a marriage that has sadly floundered and died can trace the seeds of this demise to a ‘ take it for granted’  attitude.

As devastating as this mind-set can be in our relationships with one another, it is lethal in our relationship to our faith.  A lively faith that is transformational must be intentional.  A faith that is built on the cheap grace of convenience rather than conviction is a faith that has no foundation, no substance, no permanence.  Frankly, it is nothing more than a charade that is assumed to merely impress or manipulate others.  In the end, rather than liberating us to live in the freedom of the sons and daughters of God, it becomes just one more lie that in the end can destroy our souls.

All of us have heard time and time again the Gospel from St. Matthew that the Church in her liturgy sets before us this morning – commonly known as the Beatitudes.  In them, the Lord confronts the familiar pragmatic wisdom of every age with a counter-cultural and transformational challenge to live in a radically different way. In a culture and society that is so tempted to ignore the ‘ better angels’  of our nature, it might be so very easy to conclude that these are nothing more than the naïve babblings of some 1st century itinerant Jewish rabbi who in the end was a loser God as he hung upon the cross. Who in their right mind would call the poor in spirit, blessed? Or who would be so delusional as to believe that the meek, not the strong, would inherit the land or that mercy would trump revenge? Or who in their right mind would exalt peacemakers over the dictum, might makes right. And finally, who would ever think that insult and persecution are to be met with rejoicing and gladness rather than a vengeful, ‘ I’ ll get back at you attitude?” No, no, no....for those who merely wear religion as a thin veneer of respectability, these sayings of the master can be conveniently ignored.

Yet, my friends, for nearly 2000 years, these words of Jesus continue to stand as an indictment against those who would dare to rob Christianity of its heart and center.  A heart and center that profoundly believes that no one is to be excluded from the merciful embrace of a loving God, whose borders know no limits. A heart and center of a living faith that through the Prophet Zephaniah commands us to ‘ seek justice...seek humility’  and in doing so, one will find their true self. A heart and center of a dynamic faith that dares to believe the words of St. Paul who proclaims, “... God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something, so that no human being might boast before God.”

And so, my friends, let us pray for the humility to let our worldly wisdom surrender to the ageless wisdom of Jesus who remains the perfecter of our faith.  And in doing so, find in him our happiness and joy now and in the world to come.

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

There was a delightful story last week on NPR’s Weekend Edition Sunday about the surprisingly unconventional ‘welcome’ that is posted on the doors of the Anglican Cathedral of Coventry in England.  This Cathedral was sadly bombed during World War II and was reconstructed following the war. It’s strikingly modern architectural style incorporates elements of the former bombed ruins of the old Cathedral.  It is a profound place of pilgrimage dedicated to reconciliation and peace.  It’s welcome to visitors exemplifies this theme in a wonderful and whimsical way:

We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, widowed, straight, gay, confused, well-heeled or down-at-heel. We especially welcome wailing babies and excited toddlers. We welcome you whether you can sing like Pavarotti or just growl quietly to yourself. You're welcome here if you're just browsing, just woken up or just got out of prison. We don't care if you're more Christian than the Archbishop of Canterbury or haven't been to church since Christmas 10 years ago. We extend a special welcome to those who are over 60 but not grown up yet and to teenagers who are growing up too fast.

We welcome keep-fit moms, football dads, starving artists, tree huggers, latte sippers, vegetarians, junk food eaters. We welcome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you if you're having problems, are down in the dumps or don't like organized religion. We're not that keen on it either. We offer welcome to those who think the Earth is flat, work too hard, don't work, can't spell, or are here because Granny is visiting and wanted to come to the cathedral. We welcome those who are inked, pierced, both or neither.

We offer a special welcome to those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down their throats as kids or got lost on the Ring Road and wound up here by mistake. We welcome pilgrims, tourists, seekers, doubters and you.

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In its whimsical fashion, this delightful ‘welcome’ cuts to the very heart of the call to discipleship that we have heard in today’s gospel. While some might still be laboring under the misconception that discipleship with the Lord demands the prerequisite of perfection, we need only look at the first 12. They, like all of us, were very imperfect with even one of them completely turning his back on the Lord in the final days of his earthly life.  Yet, the invitation stands for all whom God earnestly desires to be part of his family in loving solidarity with him and one another.In a world and nation that more and more experiences the factional divisions that fragment the human family, the Christian faith stands in polar opposite to the factional camps and ideologies that separate rather than unites in solidarity and reconciliation.

And so, my friends, may our gathering in this holy place where all are welcome be a sign of that oneness that brings delight to the Lord, who is indeed the joy of our life