Dad Jokes and Christmas in June

What’s Forest Gump’s password? 1forest1. What kind of egg did the evil chicken lay? A deviled egg. Why did the coach go to the bank? To get his quarter back. What do you call an illegally parked frog? Toad. Where do baby cats learn to swim? The kitty pool. How can you tell it’s a dogwood tree? From the bark.

My dad relishes telling cheesy jokes like these. Sometimes I can tell he has been waiting all day to tell me a new one, but then he forgets or stumbles over the punchline, a spectacle that oftentimes turns out to be funnier than the actual joke as he tries out several incorrect punchlines before finally remembering the right one.

Along with his sense of humor, my dad is humble and considers his Catholic faith to be an extremely important part of his life. Growing up, he always had my sister and I at church at least 20 minutes before Mass began to give us time to pray and go over the readings.

As we celebrate Father’s Day this weekend, I give thanks to God for my dad, my first teacher in faith, and I think about St. Joseph, Jesus’ foster father on earth. We do not know too much about St. Joseph from the Bible, but we do know that “he was a righteous man” (Matthew 1:19).

Pope Paul VI goes on to say, “The Gospel does not record a single word from him; his language is silence. It was his attention to the angelic voices which spoke in his sleep; it was that prompt and generous obedience which was demanded from him; it was manual labor, in the most modest and fatiguing of forms, which earned Jesus the reputation of being ‘the son of the carpenter’ (Matthew 13:55). There is nothing else known of him, and it might well be said that he lived an unknown life, the life of a simple artisan, with no sign of personal greatness.” (http://osjusa.org/st-joseph/magisterium/homily-on-the-feast-of-saint-joseph-27-march-1969/)

For such a seemingly unremarkable man, God trusted him with the unfathomable mission of protecting the Holy Family and, along with Mary, bringing Jesus up according to the law of the Lord, ensuring that “Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man” (Luke 2:52). St. Joseph showed total commitment to God and to his family. Life for the Holy Family certainly was not easy, but St. Joseph remained humble and strong in his faith through all the burdens, risks, and responsibilities he faced.

It is fitting that Father’s Day this year comes on the heels of the feasts of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary, tying together the members of the Holy Family. With the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, a prominent figure during the Advent season, later in the week on June 24, I cannot help but feel like the Church is providentially giving us a summer preview of Christmas. Our world can certainly use a little injection of that Christmas joy right about now.

Like Jeremiah in this Sunday’s 1st Reading, we may feel inundated with “the whisperings of many: Terror on every side!” The pandemic, racial injustices, and all manner of transgressions bombard us through the news every day. Jesus, however, reminds us many times in the Gospel, “Do not be afraid.”

This Father’s Day, let us remember that great mystery of our faith that we celebrate at Christmas: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life” (John 3:16). I offer a challenge this week: act like it is Christmas—not with the lights and the trees, but with a heart that is overflowing with joy knowing that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

Jesus instructs us in this Sunday’s Gospel to “speak in the light.” How will you acknowledge Jesus before others this week? St. Joseph offers a model for us. As Pope Paul VI reminds us, “he is the proof that in order to be good and genuine followers of Christ there is no need of ‘great things’; it is enough to have the common, simple, human virtues, but they need to be true and authentic.”

Happy Father’s Day!

Remain in Me

Jesus and I—the first catechism that I studied in preparation for my first reception of Jesus in the Eucharist. I am not sure if I realized then what I know today. It’s not just about the personal relationship that I have with Jesus. It’s also about how I act communally in the Body of Christ, in all of humanity.

Jesus says, “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.” Jesus remains in me? Whenever we eat (receive), as infrequently as it might be in these pandemic days, we are transformed, we are changed. We become the ears of Jesus, stopping to listen and to hear the cries for racial justice. We become the eyes of Jesus, seeing the hungry lining up at food banks. We become the heart of Jesus, gently loving and comforting those who are suffering. We use the limbs of our bodies to move, to act in solidarity, to feel the pain, to bring relief, to do something! We use our brains to reflect on what Jesus would do in response to all that is death-dealing in our world. Jesus is the bread of life. As we remain in Jesus and Jesus remains in us, we have a relationship, a covenant that does not allow us to be passive. We are all one body implies that we are all related and all responsible for each other.

In John’s Gospel, the Eucharist is so much more than a ritual meal or a religious ceremony. Gathering at the table and receiving sends us to be actively engaged in feeding the hungers of the world, the haunting hungers for justice, love, healing, hope, and help. How will we take up this work? How will we be the bread of life to others? Who will be our partners in this journey?

Can You Believe It?

We believe in a triune God whose very nature is communal and social….God reveals God-self to us as one who is not alone, but rather as one who is relational. We who are made in God’s image share this communal, social nature. We are called to reach out and to build relationships of love and justice.

I could just stop right there. Given the events of the last few weeks, we could say that our work is really cut out for us. We can’t avoid it: racism is as much a virus as is COVID-19 and we know who suffers most. Perhaps we are observing communal acts given to lament, to cry out for mercy and justice. Perhaps we are participating in action for justice. Perhaps we are questioning if love and justice are even possible. Perhaps we can only imagine. Perhaps we are paralyzed by fear.

Beverly Harrison, a feminist ethicist, wrote an article many years ago entitled, “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love.” Many of us fear anger. But at times anger—the kind that says “Enough already” or “I’m not going to take this any longer” is just what propels us into action. It takes a fire in us, a scream of sorts that will not let us be silent. It takes our knowing someone, our being in relationship to someone who is suffering to act. To be in God’s image, that of a triune God, is to be participants in creating, redeeming, and inspiring. The reading from Corinthians uses powerful verbs—action plans! Mend your ways, encourage one another, agree with one another, live in peace.

Friends who wish me well have added another dictum—educate yourself! So I have been reading voraciously, watching videos, talking to others, and listening to podcasts. As good as I think I have been—being relational and caring—I am becoming aware of my learned behaviors and white privilege.

My prayer now echoes the words of Moses: “O Lord, do come along in our company. This is indeed a stiff-necked people; yet pardon our wickedness and sins, and receive us as your own.”

The Gift of Pentecost

Pentecost is God looking at us through the gift of the Spirit. I read that this week and it left me curious about what that means. At the Ascension, the disciples were literally told to not just stand there looking up to the sky, but to do something—to go out and make disciples of all nations. The promise of sending the Holy Spirit was to sustain them in their efforts.

When we prepared for Confirmation, most of us learned the gifts of the Holy Spirit: understanding, knowledge, counsel, courage, reverence, and awe in the presence of God. In the Scriptures for this weekend we hear, “They were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak…”

How are we using the gifts of the Spirit today? Do we engage those gifts in our speaking? Are we speaking in ways that give evidence of those gifts in our lives? Are we speaking in ways that build up and enrich the Body of Christ?

In these days of uncertainty, we are too often barraged by disconcerting, divisive speech. We are witnessing the suffering of so many; perhaps we ourselves are suffering. St. Paul reminds us that where one suffers, we all suffer. As we gather this weekend, at home with our families or elsewhere, let us pray that God infuses each of us with the gifts of the Spirit that we need most. And let us also pray in gratitude for those gifts of the Holy Spirit that we experience in each other, in our families, in our work, and in our world. Pentecost is God looking at us through the gift of the Spirit. May it be so.

It Won’t Be the Same

What if Jesus had not ascended into heaven? What if he never left the disciples? These questions offer me an opportunity to reflect on what we will experience at this weekend’s liturgies of the Mass. I believe that it will apply to those of us at St. Francis physically as well as those who are at home, celebrating Mass as a domestic church. Wherever we choose to be, we are one—one community of St. Francis of Assisi.

If Jesus had not left, he would have been confined to a geographical area with only those who encountered him physically. But by dying and rising, by spending another 40 days reinforcing his teaching, Jesus made it possible for an encounter with him to continue through his followers. Jesus’ words before he ascended were “go…and make disciples of all nations….I am with you always, until the end of the age.” Through the ages, that commission has endured as has the promise of God’s presence and care for us. I call that Providence!

As our church reopens this weekend, much will be different! This pandemic has changed us—as individuals, as a community, as a parish. Last Sunday, a group of my friends and I were challenged with this question: What have you learned about yourself in the midst of this pandemic? How have you changed? We can ask the same thing about our community, our parish.

It won’t be the same on Saturday and Sunday! It will be different for many reasons. The old skins will no longer contain the new wine, as it is said. It is time however to imagine what is new about us and how we choose to dream for our parish. We won’t be participating in the same way, but we do have the opportunity to listen. We might begin to identify with those who are often not included and not given a voice. Perhaps this is the gift of the Spirit that God is awakening in us.

We will discover new places in the pews and new neighbors. We will thank God for the ways in which we have learned to value what really matters in our lives, and what we can do without. We can sit sharing a common table, at the altar with Father and at the table in our homes. We can identify with those who have access to the Eucharist a few times of the year only.

We share conversations that express our deepest longings—the prayers of the faithful, at church and at home. We answer the call to make disciples, to be disciples trusting that we are not alone.

We see signs all around us. Newness is among us and within us. Like many of the plants on our beautiful grounds, we are in various stages of growth—full bloom, opening and unfurling, and in some cases just buds. All are signs of something new—a dream God has for our parish. Together, at church and at home, we discover that dream for us! We need each other. We need God.

“I am with you always, until the end of the age.” Jesus’ promise to his disciples then and to us today! Let us do more than survive! Let us thrive!

The Creativity of the Holy Spirit

“He will give you another Advocate to be with you always…” In these weeks leading to Pentecost, we are given readings that are filled with references to the Holy Spirit. This Sunday, we focus on joy, one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The joy in the early community came from witnessing great works—healing, bringing to wholeness, moving from surviving to thriving, especially for those who were neglected and did not count.

This pandemic is revealing immense needs—countless ways to love our neighbor. Like the Samaritans, we are witnessing the good deeds of others, small as well as large miracles of caring. The gifts given include words of encouragement to those suffering in any way, food deliveries, offers to run errands, volunteering to make phone calls to check on people, attending to our families, and incessant prayers of gratitude for those who sacrifice for the sake of others.

What signs are you seeing that fill you with “great joy”? What miraculous signs come from individuals, companies, businesses, and people taking care of other people?

If we are paying attention, we are listening, hearing, and seeing in new ways. Observing Mother’s Day called for creativity. Many are honoring graduates in new ways. All of nature is louder, more colorful, and cleaner. Jesus promised that we would never be abandoned or left as orphans. The Holy Spirit inspires us to sanctify Christ as Lord in every area of life: home, government, church, world, and all of creation.

What is the Holy Spirit seeking to do with his/her infinitely creative mind in your life? How can the Holy Spirit loosen the knots, lessen the worries, calm the anxieties about the unknown and move us to action?

So we pray the prayer many of us pray often:

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And you shall renew the face of the earth.

O, God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy His consolations, through Christ Our Lord, Amen.