Weekend Homilies
Did you hear something that resonated with you? Are you looking to reflect on the weekend homily?
The homily will be made available here in both written and audio form some time during the following week. Click on the links below to take you to a specific homily.
The homily will be made available here in both written and audio form some time during the following week. Click on the links below to take you to a specific homily.
4th Sunday of Lent
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Fourth Sunday of Lent
March 19, 2023 A good priest-friend of mine can remember every detail in his dreams, and faithfully discerns each and every one of them every morning. He also insists that every character in our dreams is really a version of ourselves. I’m not sure about you, but that’s more than a little disconcerting to me. Yet, some of the greatest theologians and spiritual guides of our Christian heritage insist that every character of our sacred scripture is also, really, a version of ourselves, or at least a part of who we are. And if we hold that truth, it is humbling and blessing all at the same time. The man born blind? Yep! That’s us. Born, not physically blind, but spiritually blind. Born into a world that is blinded by sin, not through our fault -any more than it was the blind man’s fault to be born without sight. In our tradition, we call it Original Sin - sin that obscures our consciousness, blinds us to the right direction of our life. Sin that exists in the world into which we are born. And at times of our lives, we fall back into that blindness, back into sin. We are also the one healed of our blindness. Washed, not in the Pool of Siloam, but in the waters of Baptism. In those waters we are given the grace to see the world with the light of Christ, symbolically offered to us in our baptismal candle. In baptism, we are washed clean, not of spit and mud, but with the Holy Spirit, the Spirit who washes away the darkness so that we might believe, as St. Paul so earnestly tried to teach the church of Ephesus, “You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.” And at that moment, we also become the healer. Yes, we are the Christ. In our baptism, we are clothed in the garment of Saints. Truly, at that moment, Christ comes to dwell within us. Every time we receive Eucharist, Christ comes to dwell in us. We are entrusted to be the hands and eyes and works of Christ in our world today. Notice that when asked if he was the man that used to be blind, he answered, in Greek, in the original language of the gospel, (Ego Eimai) “I AM.” Those are the very words that God used to describe himself when Moses asked, “Who shall I say sent me?” The very word’s that Jesus used when describing himself: “I AM the Bread of Life. I AM the Good Shepherd. I AM the gate. I AM the way, the truth and the life. This is John’s way of declaring that Christ lives in us! So, “Live as children of light,” St. Paul insists. And the crowd. Yes, us too! When we doubt that someone could change, be enlightened, be healed. How often have we responded, “I’ll believe it when I see it?” Or, “Show me some proof.” We are so often slow to accept another person’s contrition, slow to understand another person’s repentance, to believe that they are a new person. How slow we are to believe that even of ourselves! You are blessed and holy people, beloved children of God! How often have we doubted that something that good could be true? And yes, we are also the Pharisees, so embedded into our way of doing things, seeing things, understanding things that we resist any new path that God opens to us. We sometimes are so stuck in the way things are, that we resist the blessing God wants to lay out before us. Is it not the same story of David, the unlikely chosen one that the Lord wanted to be anointed as king? How could he, the youngest, become king? That’s not the way it works. But no one, the Lord reminded Samuel, sees as the Lord sees. I’m still not convinced -or maybe I just don’t want to believe- that I am every character in my dreams. But I am convinced that, at times, I am every character of our sacred scriptures: at times sinner and at other times healer; sometimes proclaimer of truth and sometimes doubter, sometimes walking in darkness and sometimes I am a light to guide others out of darkness. I am all these things. Aren’t we all? |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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3rd Sunday of Lent
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Third Sunday of Lent
March 12, 2023 You do realize this is not just a story about the woman at the well. Right? This is everyone’s story. We are all the woman at the well. All of us. We are the woman at the well – just doing our boring, mundane routine of our lives, and all of a sudden, it is interrupted and nothing is ever routine, again. We are the woman at the well – finding ourselves in an unexpected and somewhat inconvenient encounter with someone when all you want to do is get your water and go home. We are the woman at the well – having a conversation, a real conversation, with someone that you’d never in a million years would have predicted, or even wanted, to be having. We are the woman at the well – embarrassed, being called out on some less-than-perfect part of our life we’ve tried to keep hidden; shamed into admission, but not rejected. We are the woman at the well – our minds blown away by something and we cannot wait to get home and tell someone what happened. We are the woman at the well – confident but afraid, spunky but shy, embarrassed but not judged, a bit doubtful but still excited. We are also the Israelites, grumbling and feeling sorry for ourselves because life is not going the way we expected it to go. We are the early church believers, held back by our negativity when hope and grace are in easy reach if we just believe what we say we believe. We are the woman at the well – finding ourselves, at unexpected times and places and circumstances, with an encounter with Christ. Remember this, too: In every story there is a “page turn” and the story continues. The Israelites found new hope in the flowing water and continued the journey to the promised land. The woman went back to town telling anyone who would listen about her encounter with Jesus, and they too came to believe he was the Messiah. The early church found the grace they needed to stand and once again boast in the glory of God. ---- What will we do when we turn the page? |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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Father Gary's Into the Deep Announcement
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Fr. Randy Timmerman, pastor of St. Dennis Parish in Madison, is one of my longtime friends; we go back even before he was ordained thirty years ago. One of the things Randy is known for is this: Whenever you ask him, “How ya doing?” His automatic and immediate response is, “Grateful! I’m just grateful!”
That is the spirit of which I hope to capture today. I am grateful. First of all, I am so deeply grateful that I have had the privilege of serving as your pastor for the past decade. In July of 2013 you welcomed me so warmly into your community, and that has been nothing but a gift. Unfortunately, my time as your pastor is coming to an end. Bishop Hying has asked me to accept a new assignment as Pastor of one of the other newly-created pastorates in the Diocese, as a part of the Into the Deep initiative in the diocese, effective July 1. I am also grateful that Bishop Hying has wisely and graciously appointed my friend, Fr. Randy Timmerman, to serve as your next Pastor. He is an amazing priest, a wonderful spiritual leader, a great homilist, and a deeply prayerful man. He has led one of the largest parishes in the diocese for the past ten years and has gratefully accepted the opportunity and challenge to form a new pastorate of the six churches of Portage, Briggsville, Pardeeville, Buffalo, Westfield and Montello. He will be assisted by two other priests, Fr. Joji and Fr. Savio, both of whom are currently serving in Pardeeville and Montello/Westfield. Together, they will serve you and come to love you as I have over the past ten years. Fr. Randy and I will be working together as he prepares to take the role as your Pastor here, and I prepare to take over his role at St. Dennis Parish on Dempsey Road in Madison and form a new parish with St. Peter Parish on Sherman Avenue. I am also grateful this is not happening tomorrow; we have four months to prepare for this transition in your (and my) life. I am far from ready to say “good bye” to any of you, so I ask that as we continue to pray together over the next four months through this Lent and Easter Season, that we welcome the Holy Spirit to guide us with hope into the next chapter of our parish life, and my life. We still have a lot of work to do. I’ve had some time to work through my emotions over the past several weeks that I have known; you’ll need time to do that as well. But then, we’ll all do what we need to do to keep this parish and this community the amazing parish that it is. We’ll continue to live and proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ in every way that we can. The profound vision of the transfiguration in today’s scripture gives us a spiritual framework in which to view Into the Deep and Go Make Disciples. These diocesan-wide initiatives are aimed at moving our parishes and diocese from simply maintaining, to becoming who we are called to be: a church of mission, bringing more and more people into a fuller and deeper relationship with Jesus Christ. As I said, we still have a lot of work to do. It was the birthday of Theodor Seuss Geisel this past week, better known as Dr. Seuss. I am reminded of a saying that is often attributed to him, one that has helped me in transitions in the past: "Don’t cry because it is over; smile because it happened." |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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2nd Sunday of Lent
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Second Sunday of Lent
March 4, 2023 They had to come down, of course. It didn’t last, this amazing event we call the Transfiguration. And then they couldn’t tell anyone about it, at least not yet; not until the time of the resurrection. They probably didn’t have a clue what that all meant anyway, the resurrection. In the end, after witnessing such a privileged event, seeing the transfiguration of Jesus and hearing the voice of God coming from the clouds; having heard Jesus actually conversing with Elijah and Moses, they had to come down the mountain. They couldn’t stay there. There was still work to be done. We live in a world of some pretty remarkable events, too. Our lives are filled with them. Some of them are remarkable in their blessings, times of our lives that we wish could last forever. But they never do; they give way to another path, another journey. And when that happens, we try to make sense out of what seems senseless; other times we’ve been given blessings far greater than what we can say we deserve. Wins and losses, the highest of mountains and the deepest of ditches, burdens so heavy we thought we would break and gifts so wonderful we have been speechless in our joy. The perspective those events and experiences bring to our lives is remarkable, and it is these very things that give us the courage and strength and perseverance to continue the journey. That’s what the Transfiguration of Jesus was and is all about. But the transfiguration, like all these events and experiences in our lives, the good and the bad, are not meant to last. But they do give us a remarkable perspective from which to continue our journey of life. At the very beginning of the journey it was Abram sent forth from the land of his kinfolks. He was to make a great nation. He had no idea what blessings and challenges would await him, let alone those that would come upon the generations of ancestors that would follow him. He had no idea what he would encounter or of what would be required of him. He was just sent forth. But having been given the blessing of God he had a perspective from which to make the journey. Thousands of years later, Paul would pen a letter to his friend Timothy. There would be hardships, Paul said. Bear them with the strength that comes from God, he told Timothy. Keep it in perspective. It would be tempting to want to pitch our tent on the mountain tops and stay there. It would be wonderful if we could live in an economy that never dipped, in relationships that were always a honeymoon. It would be wonderful if every ticket was a winner and every era of our lives was perfect. But would not our hearts grow numb to gratefulness? Or sometimes it might seem tempting to wallow in the darkness and to seek pity in our hardships. It might be easy to give up or get angry and surrender to forces of evil. But would not our hearts grow numb to hope? Our life with Christ calls us to use the moments of transfiguration and to find strength in God in the hardships that we encounter. And then keep going. Like Abraham did. Like Jesus did. Like the Apostles did. Like Timothy did. Like they all did, those faithful men and women who have gone before us. Just like we will do. ANNOUNCEMENT Fr. Randy Timmerman, pastor of St. Dennis Parish in Madison, is one of my longtime friends; we go back even before he was ordained thirty years ago. One of the things Randy is known for is this: Whenever you ask him, “How ya doing?” His automatic and immediate response is, “Grateful! I’m just grateful!” That is the spirit of which I hope to capture today. I am grateful. First of all, I am so deeply grateful that I have had the privilege of serving as your pastor for the past decade. In July of 2013 you welcomed me so warmly into your community, and that has been nothing but a gift. Unfortunately, my time as your pastor is coming to an end. Bishop Hying has asked me to accept a new assignment as Pastor of one of the other newly-created pastorates in the Diocese, as a part of the Into the Deep initiative in the diocese, effective July 1. I am also grateful that Bishop Hying has wisely and graciously appointed my friend, Fr. Randy Timmerman, to serve as your next Pastor. He is an amazing priest, a wonderful spiritual leader, a great homilist, and a deeply prayerful man. He has led one of the largest parishes in the diocese for the past ten years and has gratefully accepted the opportunity and challenge to form a new pastorate of the six churches of Portage, Briggsville, Pardeeville, Buffalo, Westfield and Montello. He will be assisted by two other priests, Fr. Joji and Fr. Savio, both of whom are currently serving in Pardeeville and Montello/Westfield. Together, they will serve you and come to love you as I have over the past ten years. Fr. Randy and I will be working together as he prepares to take the role as your Pastor here, and I prepare to take over his role at St. Dennis Parish on Dempsey Road in Madison and form a new parish with St. Peter Parish on Sherman Avenue. I am also grateful this is not happening tomorrow; we have four months to prepare for this transition in your (and my) life. I am far from ready to say “good bye” to any of you, so I ask that as we continue to pray together over the next four months through this Lent and Easter Season, that we welcome the Holy Spirit to guide us with hope into the next chapter of our parish life, and my life. We still have a lot of work to do. I’ve had some time to work through my emotions over the past several weeks that I have known; you’ll need time to do that as well. But then, we’ll all do what we need to do to keep this parish and this community the amazing parish that it is. We’ll continue to live and proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ in every way that we can. The profound vision of the transfiguration in today’s scripture gives us a spiritual framework in which to view Into the Deep and Go Make Disciples. These diocesan-wide initiatives are aimed at moving our parishes and diocese from simply maintaining, to becoming who we are called to be: a church of mission, bringing more and more people into a fuller and deeper relationship with Jesus Christ. As I said, we still have a lot of work to do. It was the birthday of Theodor Seuss Geisel this past week, better known as Dr. Seuss. I am reminded of a saying that is often attributed to him, one that has helped me in transitions in the past: "Don’t cry because it is over; smile because it happened." I |
Audio Recording
Click the image above to hear a recording of this homily.
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1st Sunday of Lent
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I like a good temptation once in a while. Seriously. Sure, temptations can, and sometimes do lead us to sin because we may not always be successful when it comes to resisting the temptation (flashback: Adam and Eve) - but that’s where reconciliation comes in. (More about that another day.) For today, I’d like to stick with the benefits of temptation.
Remember that the temptations of Jesus of which we hear in the gospel today takes place right after his baptism, where, you might recall, the Spirit descended on Jesus and declared that he was the beloved Son of God. Now, just after that, (in Matthew’s gospel) we are reminded that the same Spirit “led him into the desert to be tempted by the devil.” That’s an important point of the message. This was no accident; Jesus didn’t stumble across the temptations. He was led there by the Spirit. There must have been a good reason for that, don’t you think? The point is also not that Jesus was tempted because he was weak from 40 days of fasting, but how he responds to the temptations even in that weakness. And the gospel gives us the privilege to be a part of the dialogue that happens between Jesus and the devil. When presented with the temptations, what did Jesus do? He called on his faith, words from the scriptures that he obviously knew, familiar words that came to him spontaneously. Each time a temptation arose, he didn’t depend upon his own strength to resist, he called upon his faith. His response, then, teaches us, as disciples, how to respond. This was not a “see how good I am” moment for Jesus, but a moment that he would teach us, when we, too, are tempted, how to respond. We need help, help from God. Temptation, then, can indeed lead us to sin, but it can also sharpen us spiritually. When we are tempted, like Jesus, we learn to draw upon a strength deeper than our own. We hone our spiritual skills. We become adept at facing those challenging moments, not with fear, but with confidence that these moments can deepen our relationship with God. Jesus was tempted as a human being (right?), so what makes us think it will be any different for us? If it was the Holy Spirit who led Jesus to face those temptations, what makes us think that we will not find ourselves in the same place, prompted by the Holy Spirit. He had to decide how he was going to live the life and mission given him by his Father—if the Master had to do that, then surely, we, his disciples, could too. Bottom line is this, my friends: Yes, the tempter will always have a voice in our lives: tempting us to think we know even more than God. We will always be tempted to rely on our own worldly power rather than on the power of God that rests in us. We will be tempted to give into our hungers, our lusts, our desires and longings rather than trust that God is enough. We will be tempted to place God in competition with other gods of our lives. Yet, if we, like Jesus, rely on the power of God and not our own power, then, ultimately, temptations have the purpose of leading us closer to God, deeper into life with him. We know all too well that we do not always come out of temptation unscathed as Jesus did. (Again, flash back to Adam and Eve.) We do sin and sin is real in our lives. But just as truly as we should not minimize it, neither should we be preoccupied with it. It cannot be our primary focus. Because we know that when Jesus conquered temptations, he also showed us the way of life. There is where the focus ought to be. |
Audio Recording
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7th Sunday in ordinary time
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Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 19, 2023 This week sit back and listen to Msgr. Duane Moellenberndt's Homily by clicking on the icon to the right. Msgr. Duane celebrated with us while Father Gary was away for the weekend. There will not be a text version this weekend. |
Audio Recording
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6th Sunday in ordinary time
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Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 12, 2023 There is nothing that is as wonderfully accommodating and at the same time, terribly annoying, than the person who can’t make a decision, or at least chooses not to. “What would you like to eat?” “I don’t care; whatever you want.” “What do you want to watch tonight?” “Doesn’t matter; whatever you’d like.” “Do you want to go out for dinner or order in?” “You choose; either is fine.” Don’t you just want to scream: MAKE A DECISION, ALREADY!! That’s why laws are so popular in our culture. Within the framework of law, the only decision you have to make is if you are going to follow the law or not. You don’t have to do a lot of thinking, mull over the ethics or the morality; you don’t have to discern or weigh the values or the principles. You just have to follow the rule. Just tell me what to do so I don’t have to make my way through the murky waters of life. But then, there are those other moments, when the clearly defined rules just don’t seem to fit the moment, or when the law doesn’t seem to speak to the situation, or when what the law declares as wrong seems so right, or when what the world declares as just, can’t be justified. The point is that law can only go so far. The Jews of Jesus’ time learned that. Even with over 600 complex regulations and laws it still wasn’t enough. With every law that was created there would be, at the same time, exceptions to the law, and more laws would be created. Enter Jesus. A Jew who loved the law, who lived the law, who upheld the law. In his own words, he had not come to change one iota of the law of Moses. But he knew there was something greater than the law, something that fulfilled the law: Love. He knew that one could follow all the rules and still hate; one could live the law and still kill; one could uphold the law and still possess what was not theirs to possess; one could know and follow every rule of the house of God and still not know and follow God. For Jesus, it was all about relationship, relationship with God and relationship with others. Jesus was about changing hearts, not changing the law. He was about love, forgiveness, compassion, mercy; not judgement and condemnation. He had an amazing vision, a vision that could see beyond the law and into the heart. And it was there where God’s word was most purely spoken and courageously lived. St. Paul called it wisdom, but not wisdom in the usual sense of the term. He would say that true wisdom is found in not knowing. In other words, when things are not so clear, when you have to trust the Holy Spirit to get you where you need to be. There, in the confines of the heart, where love and condemnation are both given birth, where forgiveness and revenge rest side-by-side, where disdain is secretly hidden behind compassion. That’s where the work needs to be done. Not in creating new laws but in creating new hearts. Only in our hearts can we most clearly choose; only in our hearts are we able to most purely say, “yes” and “no.” We will always be able to find a reason to be exempt from the law. But none of us, at any moment, in any situation, can find any reason to be exempt from love. |
Audio Recording
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5th Sunday in ordinary time
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Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
February 6, 2023 Some of us are comfortable with ambiguity. We’re OK when things are not always that clear, when there is room for discretion, when choices remain on the table. We love buffets at restaurants. Others of us do not. We want black and white. Tell me what to do so I don’t have to wonder; vagueness and uncertainty are swear words in our vocabulary. Don’t ask me what I want to eat, just put something on the plate and I’ll be fine. That’s what makes the Sermon on the Mount, the teachings of Jesus found in these few chapters of Matthew, so powerful and timeless and enduring. Because no matter how we hear them, like the Beatitudes we heard last weekend, they offer us a truth that nothing else comes close, and yet allow us to find our way to live them out. They tell us just enough to not give us any wiggle room, but still leave enough unspoken so that we might make them our own. These teachings are not a plea from Jesus for us to be better and be holier and kinder and more gentle and loving. This is a teaching. It is a truth. They are not words voiced by some wisdom leader of our past, they were spoken by the Son of God. They are not suggestions, they are statements of fact: You are the light of the world! You are the salt of the earth! You are a city set on a hill! Now, some of you believe that; some of you may not be so sure. Some gather here in church with solid, strong, built-on-rock-kind-of faith. It is why you give so generously in so many ways, pray so fervently and witness so courageously. It is how you maneuver your way with a certain grace through struggling relationships and jobs, through the terrible twos and the traumatic teens. It is what gives you the courage to forgive when every fiber of your wants revenge, to be loving when indifference would be acceptable, to be courageous when it would be safer to walk away. Others of us come with more fragile, emerging, somewhat wounded, just-get-me-through-the-day-kind-of faith; you might even consider yourself more of a salty character than the “salt of the earth.” We live our faith in the shadows, afraid that it might be challenged and we’ll have to defend it. Sometimes we struggle to believe our goodness, in our blessedness. We deny the power we hold in Christ, the responsibility we have to share that gift, fragile as it may be. We question the truths that we have received, contrasting them with the false truths that this world sometimes declares. But wherever we are in our faith, Jesus’ words are no less true. His teaching doesn’t change. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. It’s not what we are called to do someday or may become if we are good enough. It is who we already are. The only question is this: Are you up for the task? Because here’s a list of people who are waiting for an answer: the sick grandparent, the kid at school that is always on the outside of the group; the homebound and the elderly who live so many hours alone; the kid who needs an example and encouragement, whose parents have given up on them. The young family who is trying to find their way and get a foothold on life that is changing so fast; the person who is grieving and the neighbor who used to believe but now doesn’t. The friend who you haven’t seen in church in ages. They are all around us. Everywhere and every day. They are waiting for us. They need us. To be salt so that they might taste the presence of Christ in their life, again or for the first time. To be a light in their darkness, even if they have forgotten or never knew that light. To be a city on a hill to guide their way, even if they don’t know how lost they are. We gather every weekend in the prayer of the church because in our liturgy we affirm that truth, we nourish that faith. We nudge it forward so that we might have what we need to sustain it, to give it flesh, to live it out every day. It is here, at Mass, that we find our voice to declare one more time: I believe in one God… |
Audio Recording
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4th Sunday in ordinary time
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Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time
January 29, 2023 If there is one word that formed my priesthood more than any other, it is the word anawim. It’s a Hebrew word that means the remnant, the left-over, the ones on the outside. It was a word that I encountered when I was in seminary formation and it spoke to my heart for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that I was choosing to do something that most young men don’t choose – to become a Catholic priest. It was, in my early 20’s, when I’d go out with the guys, it was a conversation stopper; they looked at me like I just grew a third eye. Most people my age just didn’t quite get why anyone would do that. But what I began to understand at that time, and have deepened my understanding over the years, is that everyone of us is, in some way, anawim. We all find ourselves, at different times of our lives, for different reasons, anawim. When all our friends are getting married and we’re not; when others have found their life’s mission and we haven’t; when we find out we’re adopted; when we are dealing with mental illness or diagnosed with cancer or admit an addiction; when we are the immigrant in a new country; when we move into a new town, or come to know that we are gay; when we get divorced, or lose our spouse or a child, or have a stroke, or have a child that is disabled, or get arrested. Or are a Bear’s fan in Packer country. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to find that “thing” that makes us anawim. But when that happens, hold that moment. When that event or awareness or feeling or realization comes, don’t deny it or run away from it. Hold it. Because it is there that God best comes to meet us. It is there that the sacred river of truth finds its way into our hearts. It is there that humility gives noble birth to a different kind of honor. It is there that blessedness is found, where true reward and true strength is discovered. Because all we have at that moment is God. And all we need at that moment is the promise of God. The people of Israel discovered they were not the most powerful nation, they were the remnant, a people humble and lowly. It was only then, relying solely on God, did they come to know their part of the sacred story in God’s plan of salvation. Only when the followers of Jesus heard those timeless words spoken on the hillside of Galilee, did they realize they were not following a leader who would conquer with power, but with humility. They would not win the battle with sword but with peace; not with vengeance but with mercy. Only when the early church found itself in the midst of persecution, despised by the world, did they understand what they truly could boast of. Anawim does not call us to walk with our heads down in shame or humiliation or fear or defeat. No, anawim allows us to lift our eyes to God, knowing we already have our reward. |
Audio Recording
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3rd Sunday in ordinary time
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Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
January 27th, 2008 At age 30 I started to drink coffee; I was (finally) growing up. At 40, I was cutting my baby-teeth as a pastor. At 50, having just completed building a new church in Beloit, I finally felt like I had my pastor-molars. And now, as I turn 65 this week, I’m just hoping those teeth don’t fall out because for better or worse, I’m about to enter into the “Old Priest Club.” That gives me a slight advantage of credibility in some circles and a longer list of excuses, both of which I am planning to take full advantage of. Being a pastor is one thing, but when it comes to discipleship, all we have is credibility; there are no excuses for any of us. The moment we were baptized, we stepped into that role, personally and completely, to be disciples of Jesus Christ. That is our credibility. We were called out of the darkness of sin and into the light of Christ. Ever since that moment we entered the “Discipleship Club.” And there’s no gettin’ out; no excuses; no maybes. Young and old, men and women, college educated and blue collar, life-long Catholics and converts to Catholicism, we are all called to be disciples of Christ. No excuses, no denial., because we are called by Christ himself. We can’t deny the reality of our call to discipleship any more than I can deny getting old. We may not feel ready for it; we may think it’s someone else’s gig; we might want to delay the responsibility until wherever. But we can’t; we’re already in it. All of us. Like us, the stage was set for the first disciples of Christ by the generations that had come before. Like us, they, too, understood and knew well the call their ancestors accepted: to be the light to the nations, to lead the way. They knew they had been gifted, selected by God. The burden of being under the suppression of the enemy had been taken away and now it was their turn. Centuries later, Jesus, fulfilling that prophecy in his own unique way, passed on that ancient call of discipleship with his followers. Andrew and James, Simon and John- they were called by Jesus to become the disciples. Their role- to bring others into the circle of Christ’s message of love and justice, compassion and forgiveness, kindness and justice, to pass on the gift of faith, to pass on the message of salvation. St. Paul and the next generation of disciples- they were called to no less, perhaps even more, as they struggled to remain united as one body. But they did their part. Now it’s our turn. If we dare say that we believe that the reign of God is among us, then we need to publicly center our lives around that astounding truth. If we dare call ourselves Christian, then we must also dare to accept the responsibility of living that faith openly, honestly, boldly. We all know people who walk in darkness today, those who have no relationship with Christ, we bear witness to our faith so they will also have the privilege of seeing the great light in their lives. So many today are intent on division by politics and race and ideologies, may they, too, know what it is to truly belong to Christ, to be of One Body. We live our discipleship so that our neighbors, the kids we go to school with, the people we work with might also come to know how the power of Christ can be at work in their lives, just as Christ is at work in ours. So that they, too, might become his disciples. I’m about to enter the Old Priest Club. In the timeless moment when I am face to face with God, he’s going to ask me…he’s going to ask us: “Yes…but who did you bring along with you?” |
Audio Recording
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2nd Sunday in ordinary time
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Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
January 15, 2023 I don’t get a chance to watch a lot of movies at home but every once in a while, I stream a short, a movie that lasts only about 12 or 15 minutes or so. I can usually stay awake for that long. One of the movies I recently watched was a 2007 film called Validation. It’s a wonderful little film that centered around a young man whose job was validating parking tickets in a shopping mall parking ramp. But he took his job one more step, because he not only validated the ticket, he validated the person. A parking customer would come to his booth to get their ticket stamped and before he would do so, he’d look at them and say something like this, “You have the most beautiful eyes! They just set off the beautiful person that you are. You are great!” And then he’d stamp their ticket. Every time he did that, you could just watch each person break into a smile. “That suit is fantastic. It looks great on you!” And they would stand taller and more confident as another smile would break. The rest of the rest of the story is too complex to keep telling but it dawned on me that what the attendant was doing for his customers, God does for us every day only on a much deeper level. His love for us validates our very existence. He reminds us we are beloved. He tells us we are holy. Something we desperately need to hear and remember. The people of Israel saw themselves as servants of God, and indeed, they were. But God also says that’s not enough, I will make you a light to the nations; that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth. As the new Jerusalem, the people of God, we share that same privilege and responsibility - to be a light to the nations, to bring God’s salvation to the ends of the earth. Paul reminds the community of faith in Corinth that they have been sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be holy, with all those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours. We have received that holiness, too, not by our doing, but by the sanctification of Christ! This is not God talking to people of some distant time and culture and land. He is speaking to us. We are servants of God, and as servants, also called to be a light to the nations. We are sanctified in Christ Jesus, and by that sanctification, made holy. God validates us. That validation is also behind what John did for Jesus -or in reality, what he did for us. John validated this man who came to the waters of the Jordan River as the Lamb of God. He is the one through whom we would receive the Holy Spirit. John validated the person of Jesus as the Christ, the Messiah, the Holy one of God. He did so, not for his sake, but for ours, so that we might believe in him. The recipients of the validation in the film were not the same people after they had their tickets stamped as they were before; they believed something different about themselves. They smiled more, competed less, reached out more often, lived happier, and rested more peacefully. They lived more fully, healed broken relationships, loved better all because some guy at the parking ramp said they were great. My brothers and sisters, we have, not the voice of a parking lot attendant, but God himself saying to us: I have chosen you bring my message of salvation to the world (and you can start right here in Portage/Briggsville). You are my holy ones, sanctified by the blood of the cross and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. If we just trusted that truth, the ills of the world could be healed, broken spirits restored, the fragile state of humanity and family could be strengthened. But it all depends upon us truly believing that, indeed, we are great! And then, from the depth of our souls, we could sing out: Here I am Lord, I come to do your will. |
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solemnity of Epiphany
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Solemnity of Epiphany
January 8, 2023 The tradition-stories of the Three Kings that have been handed on to us conjures up wonderful images. As they made their way across the countryside, following that star, can’t you imagine them singing: “We Three Kings of Orent Are…” I think it would be far more likely that they would be singing along to…(Johnny Lee’s) a country-western song: I was lookin' for love in all the wrong places; lookin' for love in too many faces… Or not. But isn’t that what they finally found? Love. They found the love in an infant king born in a manger. Beneath the beam of a mysterious star they had followed, they found Jesus. Those Gentile keepers of the sky were convinced that nature itself was communicating a message of earthshaking importance. Realistically, a desert-crossing caravan would probably include a whole lot more than three people. There would be servants and generations traveling together, safety in numbers, searching for this newborn king. What makes this story so sacred and timeless, regardless of historic details, is that it can take hold of our imagination and become the carrier of our own search for God’s love. We have no idea how historically accurate the story of the Three Kings is. Like most of the infancy narratives of the Gospels, this story, too, is likely a romanticized version of something that truly happened, a story that had been handed from believe to believer until Matthew included it in the gospel he was preparing. Their identity was reflective of Isaiah’s description of the Gentile nations who would seek a relationship with God in the city of Jerusalem. “Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you. Nations shall walk by your light, and kings by your shining radiance. Raise your eyes and look about; they all gather and come to you.” Like the magi as they searched the heavens for messages, most of us could write our list of failed attempts to find a manifestation of God’s love, as well. But, like the magi, we keep on the journey, by-passing the cheap grace that this world often so readily dishes out with empty promise, readjusting our priorities and reevaluating our commitments and adapting to new directions, new opportunities, new stars that symbolically guide us along the way. We grasp, sometimes, at what we think will make us happy, what we think will be fulfilling, what we think will be the answer to all our woes. We long for facts, for black-and-white, only to discover, as St. Paul did, that God can only be found in mystery. We often look for love of God in all the wrong places, in too many faces. We learn what the magi learned: that all our wisdom, all our knowledge, all our certainties are not enough. We will get glimpses, hints in this world of the divine that awaits us. Every once in a while, when we hear his Word speak to us, to our hearts, it stops us in our tracks. Or when we receive Christ in the Eucharist, the simple way that Jesus chose to remain within our grasp, every once in a while, that reality takes our breath away. Some of us are fortunate enough to know the unconditional love of another person that begins to open the door of understanding the unconditional love that God has for us, and it forever changing our search. So, we follow whatever star leads us until that day, like the magi, enticed by grace, with courage and with the confidence that God will find a way to lead us, until that day when, we, too, will see Christ face-to-face. And say …ahhhhh… that’s what I’ve been looking for! |
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solemnity of mary, mother of god
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Mary, The Holy Mother of God
January 1, 2023 I’m going to talk this evening/morning about something of which I know nothing about. (So what else is new? Right?) I want to talk about what it must be like to be pregnant. So, moms, please bear with me while we ponder this together for a few moments… Morning sickness aside, there must be excitement and wonder and fear all wrapped up in this awareness of another life within you. Everything changes - What you eat and drink, what you do and what you can no longer do. Your body takes on a new shape over which you have little control because another life is depending upon you and that changes everything. By now, all of you women who have been through the experience of pregnancy are either nodding in appreciation or saying to yourself: “Father, you still don’t have a clue.” And you would be right, of course. All I can do, as a man, is ponder. Like Mary did. Hers was no ordinary pregnancy! Mary was called upon to nurture a child into life but this was the Son of God. Mary could not have known, really, all that would mean. But she “kept these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” Some translations of scripture simply say: she pondered. And that’s what we can do, too. We ponder: What was it like for Mary to know, by the power of the Holy Spirit, that she was given the gift and the responsibility to give birth to Jesus, the Word of God made flesh? And we can ponder this, as well: What does it mean for each of us, by the gift of the same Spirit, to bring the Word of God alive in this world, to give it real flesh? What a gift Mary was given! What a gift we are given! The privilege of bringing God’s Word into the world. As Meister Eckhart, a great mystic of the church, wrote some 700 years ago, “We are all meant to be mothers of God.” But accompanying every gift and blessing is responsibility. Once we come to truly believe that Christ is in us (Which is exactly what we believe when we receive Communion, right?) we can no longer live just for ourselves. We must be more conscious of what we do and where we go, literally of what we put into our mind and body. When we come to the reality that Christ is dependent upon us to be made-flesh, we change. Things that mattered before don’t matter as much. Things that once didn’t seem important now take precedent. We see the world differently; we live differently when Christ dwells within us, when Christ is depending upon us. So, we will need the help of others and we will be dependent upon each other. (We call that Church and it’s why we gather every weekend.) We need each other’s encouragement and support to do what we are all called to do: to make Christ present in this world. But just knowing that what God has to offer the world—through us—gives us strength and perseverance and hope. Like Mary, we are being asked to bring new life—God’s life—into the world that is sometimes eager and sometimes resistant to receive him. What a blessing we have been given! What a responsibility! Something to reflect on as we begin this new year. |
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Christmas- The Nativity of the Lord
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Christmas
December 25, 2022 Have you ever been so surprised by something and it kind of took your breath away? Like this: AH! It’s kind of like holding your breath, but just for a split second, really quick. Something totally amazing and unexpected, something you were not anticipating happened! And for that moment, you couldn’t even breathe! That’s what it was like the night that Jesus was born. Only it wasn’t just Mary and Joseph. It was everyone: the shepherds and the angels, all the animals, the cows and donkeys and lambs. They too went “UH!” - and if you’ve ever heard a cow go “UH!” you know it’s serious. In fact, it wasn’t just the people and the animals. It was as if the earth itself did it, and the stars! Just for a moment. The earth stopped turning and the stars stopped their dance. Just for a split second, the moon and all the planets paused. What else could they do? Something had happened that had never happened before. God, one through whom all was created, came to the earth. It had been planned from the beginning of time, of course; prophets had talked about it forever, it seemed. But after all that time, no one was actually thinking it would happen then, and in Bethlehem, of all places. There, taking up almost no space on this earth, in the most powerless being, a baby, was the greatest power that ever existed on the earth. It’s just enough to take your breath away! That night in the tiny village of Bethlehem, it happened. On that night, in the blink of an eye, God actually came to be us. Not just for a visit but forever, to be a part of our ordinary, sometimes-boring, once-in-a-while exciting lives. God came to be with us, not (St. Paul reminds us) because of any righteous deeds we had done but because of his mercy. Right then, every bit of God’s creation went: UH! And then… ….then all of creation breathed again. The angels clapped their hands and broke out in song but went back to do what angels do. The cows cheered and then went back to chewing their cuds. Mary and Joseph smiled in gratitude and wonder, and then began to do what moms and dads do. Now, every year, we listen to the Christmas story, we sing Christmas songs, we decorate our homes and churches, we wear our best and gather as best we can. We come here for Christmas Mass tonight/this morning. Somewhere deep within us, we know that we need to do this. The world needs us to do this. To literally take a momentary pause of life to remember what happened on that night in Bethlehem. But, my friends, what happens next is what will matter the most. What happens tomorrow, next week – that is what is equally important, perhaps even more important, than what we do here tonight/today. It’s not enough to celebrate this incredible moment of God’s glory once every year. Now it is our task, our mission: to do what Israel was asked to do, to do what the angels and shepherds and wise men did. We must tell the story of this incredible act of God’s love. We must get to work. Start by assuring others that they, too, are loved. Start by telling the story of God’s mercy by offering that same mercy to those in our lives that need to hear it. Tell the story of God’s faithfulness by renewing your own commitment to be faithful to God. Tell the Christmas story by bringing God’s light into every corner of our world. Far too many people have lost the hope and the promise and the love and the reassurance that only Jesus can give them. Far too many people have forgotten what we remember tonight/today, what God chose to come and dwell among us…and still is with us. He’s not leaving. |
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fourth SUNDay OF ADVENT
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Fourth Sunday of Advent
December 18, 2022 My very first Christmas Eve Mass here in Portage, nine years ago, I had all the kids up at the altar for the homily. A few minutes in, one little 4-year old boy just looked up at me and, loud enough for everyone to hear, asked, “Just where you goin’ with this, Father?” (Thanks, Oskar!) I’m sure some of you have wanted to ask that same question countless times over the last 9 ½ years of homilies! Where you going with this, Father? Just get to the point! It probably was shouted out to God many times by the Israelites, too. For generation after generation they had listened to the stories of the ancestors of faith and the prophets; they had suffered through persecutions and exiles. “Give us something, God; anything to hold on to.” So God did, or at least he made the promise: The virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and (you) shall name him Emmanuel. Finally! God with us! And then they waited the better part of another millennium before the prophecy would be fulfilled. I wonder if those nine months of pregnancy were the longest nine months of Mary’s life. Hard enough to endure the complexities of body and emotions during pregnancy, but how do you await the birth of your child when you know it was God who placed it in your womb? Where you going with this, Father? I wonder what it was like for Joseph. Could he trust the dream? What did it mean that this child would “save his people from their sins”? How do you wrap your head around that? How long would he have to wait to find out? But wait, they did. What choice did they have? Eventually a child was born. Emmanuel. And by his death and resurrection he saved us from our sins. And yet, the world sill waits. Now we wait, not for the Messiah, but for the promise of salvation to be known and welcomed by all people. Like Mary, we wait in hope that love of God might be known and protected in every child that is conceived, no matter the circumstances. Like Joseph we wait for the plan of God to make itself known especially when we are in the least control of what is happening in our lives. Like St. Paul, we wait for his grace and peace to be manifest in every corner of the earth, to every nation. But I wonder, sometimes, is it we who are waiting or is God now waiting for us? Is God asking each of us: Just where you goin’ with this? |
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THIRD SUNDay OF ADVENT
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Third Sunday of Advent
December 11, 2022 Several years ago, a global, ground-roots movement was born, a movement that attempted to offer support to youth who were struggling with issues of sexuality. It was called the “It Gets Better” and was a simple way to give hope to youth who lived every day with fear and confusion and anxiety; hope that life would, as the name declares, (someday) get better. For a young, struggling person, hope is often all they have to hang on to. There are times when hope is all any of us have to hang on to. We possess an astonishing capacity to hope but sometimes we have walked in darkness for so long that we need help to point us to the hope that stands right before us. Sometimes we are so beaten up by listening to voices of gloom that we need another voice to help us uncover the hope that lies within us. Sometimes doubt is planted in our lives and we need to be reminded of the seed of hope whose roots lie at the core of every person. Hope is God’s message; hope gets us through the worst of times. The biblical image of exile is the human experience of hopelessness. The people of Israel, exiled from their homeland, were separated from their heritage, cut off to the temple where God dwelt. So, we can imagine how they must have clung to the words of the holy man Isaiah: “Be strong, fear not! Here is your God…he comes to save you. Strengthen those hands that are feeble and make firm those knees that are weak. The eyes of the blind will be opened, the ears of the deaf will be cleansed; the lame will leap like a stag, and the tongue of the mute will sing. (You) will return and enter Zion singing, crowned with everlasting joy.” Isaiah gave them hope; he assured them by the very promise of God that it would get better. Isaiah proclaims what we also often need to hear: Hope can’t be destroyed; it cannot pass from existence. But sometimes it takes the patience of a farmer waiting for the fruit of the earth after a long growing season. Sometimes it takes a complete redirection of our vision, as it did for the followers of John the Baptist. Maybe John, himself, had doubts if Jesus really was The One. After all, he was in prison, facing torture and death. Or maybe he was just, in his own way, leading his disciples to redirect their hope to the One who was to come. Either way the Kingdom of God was upon them, and things would never be the same. Hope had come forever and Hope was not about to leave. So, these collective voices of Advent can remind us that it will (and does) get better than this: our relationships, our marriages, our community can be healed and renewed and united. It can and does get better than this: tolerance can open doors and forgiveness can heal even the greatest of wounds. It can and does get better than this: the poor don’t have to face hunger and the imprisoned don’t have to face humiliation. It can and does get better than this: our differences don’t have to divide us, they can make us better, stronger, even. Hope, in its God-given best, is what Christ gave to a waiting world. And it still does. |
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The immaculate conception of the blessed virgin mary
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THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION Dec. 8, 2022 I was thinking about the original dedication of our Church…Dec. 8, 1859. You know, if we built our Church 6 years earlier, it would have been a different name. We didn’t know yet what we now know as the Immaculate Conception. It was on December 8, 1854, Pope Pius IX, in an official papal document named Ineffabilis Deus (Ineffable God), proclaimed: We declare, pronounce and define that the doctrine which holds that the Blessed Virgin Mary, at the first instance of her conception, by a singular privilege and grace of the Omnipotent God, in virtue of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Savior of mankind, was preserved immaculate from all stain of original sin, has been revealed by God, and therefore should firmly and constantly be believed by all the faithful. Church language…it’s sometimes difficult to understand. Immaculate is a big word but we know it means Perfectly Clean. Mary, the mother of God is Immaculate, perfectly clean of original sin. It’s a big deal, an amazing gift from God to the Mother of His son. Our Church celebrates this date, Dec. 8th, for all time, just like we celebrate Christmas on Dec. 25th for all time! (Fun fact…Bernadette Soubirous in 1858 saw the apparition of a lady in the cave of Massabielle about 1 mile from Lourdes. She saw the lady several times. She finally asked who she was? The Lady responded I am the Immaculate Conception, spoken by Mary just 4 years after the declaration of the Immaculate Conception.) A question for us is this: does St. Mary of the Immaculate Conception mean something for us today, or is it just a big deal for Mary? How come it took so long for the Church to recognize and declare this singular gift from God? I mean, some 1800 hundred years after the life of Jesus here on earth? Understanding and appreciating God’s gifts to us is not easy stuff. Many times (maybe most of the time) we need help, and this is one of the many things our Church, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, does for us. Why did it take so long to understand the gift of the Immaculate Conception? For our Jewish forefathers, it was only God that was free from sin - no one else. How could they believe anything else? We have to go back a long time, eons and generations, millennia ago, to the Garden of Eden where Adam and Eve lived. Honestly, they had it made!!! No worries, a bountiful garden full of food, every kind of tree imaginable, perfect weather, no sin. They talked regularly with God as He walked with them in the Garden. Now…that’s cool! Sign me up!! God gave them one only one command…don’t eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil because if you do you will die. Not a death where you are buried in the ground, it’s a different death, a death inside, a death because of sin. Along with the beautiful garden, God gave Adam and Eve free will, they could make the choices they want. Their choice…obey God or do what they want. The evil one, Satan, pictured as a snake, tricked them and they made a choice against God’s warning. We know the rest…they were banished from the Garden of Eden and all that good things disappeared. Sin entered the world. After God found out what Adam and Eve did, God said to the snake, the evil one…I WILL PUT ENMITY BETWEEN YOU AND THE WOMAN, AND BETWEEN YOUR OFFSPRING AND HERS. Adam and Eve had free will, they could make choices. You and I have free will and we can make choices. The woman that God was talking about is Mary, the Mother of God. Mary also had free will and could make a choice. Listen again to what the Angel Gabriel said to Mary: Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you. It took a long time for our Church to understand what “full of grace” really meant. Gabriel continued… The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God. Mary was a very young teenager, not even married. She could have made a choice and said NO to God. I don’t want this! I’m too young. I don’t want to have a baby. I’m not married. And if I had a baby I don’t want to name him Jesus. Just like you and I, Mary had free will and could make her own choices. Her choice? BEHOLD I AM THE HANDMAID OF THE LORD. MAY IT BE DONE TO ME ACCORDING TO YOUR WORD! She said YES to God and Jesus the Savior of the world was born. And we sing - Shout with Joy to the Lord all the earth, break into song, sing praise! The Feast of St. Mary of the Immaculate Conception, our Patron saint here at our church, is the Mother of God, and we celebrate two things: 1) She was born without Original Sin, and 2) She chose God. Imagine what the world would be like if she said NO to the Angel Gabriel”s message from God? Imagine what the world will become if you and I say say NO to God. How about this? Imagine what the world will become if we say “YES, LORD, ALWAYS YES!” Deacon Steve Letourneaux |
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second SUNDAY OF ADVENT
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Second Sunday of Advent
December 4, 2022 Maybe I’m just getting older, but has the weather been wild these last weeks or what?! How many times have we moved 20, 30 even 40-degrees in a matter of hours. One day people are out golfing in shorts and a day later they’re wearing their parkas. One day we’re in short-sleeves putting up Christmas decorations and the next day we’re chasing our Christmas decorations down the block in 50 mile-per-hour winds. Winter in the Midwest demands a great deal of endurance and a lot of encouragement. Endurance and encouragement- Clearly, it is not only winters in the Midwest that demand these gifts; one short perusal of the news will call for the same. And not to be outdone by violence and politics and hateful rhetoric, now the church is leading us “into the deep,” challenging even the most solid of the faithful to respond with the same endurance and encouragement. Many generations ago, Isaiah foretold a day when the wolf would be the invited guest of the lamb, and the leopard would lie down in peace with the kid. The day will come, he promised, when the calf and the young lion would browse together, and the cow and the bear would be neighbors, their young resting together. Those days that Isaiah predicted with such grace and poetry seems today as distant a dream as when they were first proclaimed, don’t they? And yet we know those words are not the empty words of a poetic dreamer; they are the promise of God. They were proclaimed as some fairytale world that can’t exist; they were voiced on behalf of the very God who created this world. So, what stands in the way of this harmonious living that Isaiah foretold? What keeps this prophecy from being more than empty words of ancient promise? What keeps that “day” from happening? Faith leads us to believe that God has not abandoned us or gone back on his promise. He sent the One of wisdom and understanding, the One of counsel and strength, the One of all knowledge. God, himself, came to fulfill the prophecy. What it means is that we have not yet welcomed the one God has sent; not really, not fully. We are, in many of our ways, no different than the brood of vipers that John denounced in the desert. We are in need of a baptism, not of water, but of spirit. There is still winnowing and threshing and burning to happen. There are still crooked paths to be made straight, sins to be acknowledged. There is still a need for repentance. There is work to be done. What it means is that God is not done with us. It seems, then, that perhaps the best thing we could do in this Advent Season is to set aside our agendas, our answers, our ways and let God do what God has intended to do from the beginning. Perhaps what Advent calls us to is to get out of the way and give the space and the power and the authority and the judgment to the One who has already come. Maybe this Advent might give us the courage to give a clear path to the One who is willing to come again and again and again, willing to keep working on our hearts and souls, willing to keep working in our communities and in our world. Centuries ago Paul wrote a prayer of blessing to the Church of Rome; it seems to be a perfect blessing for us, yet today: “May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to think in harmony with one another, in keeping with Christ Jesus, that with one accord you may with one voice glorify God.” |
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FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT
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First Sunday of Advent
November 27, 2022 Do you ever find yourself living in anticipation, not for something, but just for something to be over? There is so much preparation, so much anticipation, so much that needs to be done prior to a meeting, to an event, to a celebration, to a game, to a holiday that when it finally arrives, you kind of breathe a sigh of relief. Like, “Whew…that’s behind us. And then it’s on to the next thing on the calendar.” Not a healthy way of living, for sure. And, unfortunately, that kind of living can overtake our Advent, as well. There is so much to do, so much to prepare for, so many details to tend to, so much planning for Christmas, that when December 26 arrives all we do is breathe a sigh of relief. The tree comes down, the wrapping paper goes out in the trash, the leftovers are divided up, we shake off the tinsel with a “Whew… that’s behind us!” It’s not a good way to live in anticipation and certainly not the way we want to enter into these weeks of Advent. So, how do we get out of that mentality, out of that mode of just getting through the day or the season or the holiday or the event? How do we move beyond the sprint of these four weeks and wrap our heads around Advent and life in another way, not simply a way to prepare for Christmas, but to prepare for the day when there is no “next event,” the day of eternity? Isaiah, the poet of the prophets, gave me an insight this week. He gives us the image of the mountain of the Lord, the place where God dwells. Here, in the holy city of Jerusalem, was the temple, the dwelling of God. It is here, Isaiah, says, that all the tribes will come. “Let us go rejoicing,” we sang out in the psalm, “to the house of the Lord.” Imagine a satellite view of this: tribes of people coming from every corner of the known earth, merging together within the many valleys that surrounded the mountain. Generational families, young and old, all merging on the roads; tribes that are sometimes even at war with each other, but now all coming together, like tributaries of water forming streams of people and then rivers of humanity, all flowing toward the holy mountain, the city of Jerusalem. Praying for each other, praying with each other with one common goal: to come to the house of the Lord. Transition that image, my friends, into another image, not of the multitude of tribes of humanity, but of the many parts of ourselves and ask: Are they all leading us to God? Our relationships within our family members, our friendships and work relationships, how we spend our money, how we give our money away. Are they all leading to deepen our relationship with Christ? Our priorities that wiggle their way into our calendars, our social lives (or lack thereof), what we read and what we repeat: Where does all this lead us? Does our use of our time, our energy, our intellect lead us closer to God? How about the music we listen to, the movies we watch, what we google and stream into our devices? What about the care we give to our own bodies, tending to our mental health, our physical health, our spiritual health? If we had to present our credit card bill or bank statement: would it reflect in any way our journey to Christ? Maybe asked another way: if anyone was joining me on my journey, would I be helping them find their way to Christ? All the tribes were joining together on their journey to the holy mountain. Is every part of our lives aimed in the right direction? Are we on the right path? Because in the end, there is only one journey, one event that we must be concerned about: the event that will never end - the day of eternity. Fr. Gary Krahenbuhl |
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Thanksgiving
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THANKSGIVING 11/24/2022 Mountains of mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, homemade stuffing, turkey or ham, or maybe both, cranberry sauce, cole slaw, rolls and biscuits, desserts galore, along with pumpkin pie and whipped cream or ice cream. Are you hungry yet? And that’s just the start. Card games, board games, outside throwing the pigskin around, or maybe in an easy chair watching others throwing the pigskin around (and probably getting a nap in also). Others in their blaze orange hoping to fill the freezer with some good roasts and deer sausage. All this and more while some are cleaning the kitchen and divvying up the leftovers. Conversation, jokes, memories, little ones in their excitement interrupting adult relaxation time. The wonderful joys of Thanksgiving. Makes all the preparation and driving worth it, doesn’t it? A far cry from 1621 when the settlers in Plymouth celebrated their first successful harvest with the Wampanoag natives…the genesis of Today’s Thanksgiving. A lot has happened in our country in these last 401 years. We grew into and became the “United States of America”. Sadly, we are anything but “united”. After a rocky human history reflected in our Old Testament, our “Catholic Thanksgiving” began with Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist and the husband of Elizabeth. On the 8th day after John was born, when Zechariah and Elizabeth were bringing him to the temple to consecrate him to God, Zechariah, inspired by the Holy Spirit, spoke in part his canticle: “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” And sadly, as in our country, we have not yet reached that “way of peace”. NOT YET. We are on our way though as Paul reminded us: “Jesus Christ will keep you firm to the end…God is faithful.” And, God has a plan. The Holy Spirit works now, every day in every way. The inspiration didn’t end with Zechariah, or Jesus’ resurrection, or the Apostles. That very inspiration and guidance of the Holy Spirit is right here, right now, in our laps. Bishop Hying, our Pastors, many of us faithful Catholics knew that we must do “something” to grow God’s kingdom because what we have been doing for a long time is not working well. You’ve all read Bishop Hying’s Strategic Plan, INTO THE DEEP, right? (How many times have you read it? 4) We have such an opportunity now to get back on that road to the way of peace. Yep, it will take work, compromise, acceptance of change, maybe some heartache, and welcoming of new people into our newly forming pastorate. Fr. Gary told us about the woman he sees that likes to pinch herself each morning. How did that work, Fr. Gary? (He reminds us). I have a little different thing I do with our people in Tivoli and Heritage House. We chat a bit before our Communion service, I talk about good things, maybe the sunny day, perhaps a joke and then I ask with my two thumbs up…ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD DAY?? Usually, except for those that are snoozing, the thumbs go up and smiles are on their faces. Ten lepers asked for healing; all were healed. One came back to thank and praise our Jesus. For many reasons my reflection tells me the other 9 were very grateful, but just didn’t come back to thank and praise our God. Jesus only asked where the other 9 were, voicing no condemnation at all. Fr.Gary reminds us almost every Sunday of the limitless and deep love God has for us. I believe Jesus found a way to touch these other 9…we just don’t know the story. It’s Thanksgiving. This holiday is rooted deeply in all of us. With our God, with our family and friends, we remember our past good times, memories, and promises. For all that is good now, we are grateful. For all that is yet to come, we are filled with hope. For all of this WE GIVE THANKS!
Deacon Steve Letourneaux |
Audio Recording
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Our Lord Christ the king, of the universe
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Our Lord, Jesus Christ, King of the Universe
November 20, 2022 Tobin Cornelius Rote. Do you remember him? Before Aaron Rodgers, Brett Farve, Lynn Dickey, Don Majkowski, and Bart Starr, and a few others, Tobin Rote led the Green Bay Packers as quarterback for seven seasons. In 1956, he also led the league in pass completions, pass attempts, passing yards, passing touchdowns, rushing attempts, rushing yards, and rushing touchdowns. And today, virtually no one remembers his name. Once a king of quarterbacks, now overshadowed and forgotten by the next generation of Green Bay fans. And so it goes. One day, a generation from now, maybe two, Bart and Don and Brett and Aaron will also be forgotten, replaced by the next and the best. And so it goes. With politicians, business leaders, musicians and coaches; with pastors, parents and matriarchs and patriarchs. All, someday, give way to the next generation to take up their role, offer their gifts, enjoying their moment of glory. That is not to diminish our particular roles and gifts and moments! Not at all! The world depends upon each and every one of us doing our part. But the point of our feast today, the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the King of the Universe, is simply to remind us: there is only one King that endures forever, Jesus Christ. The Church, by this feast, reminds us of that truth, lest our own egos or the egos of our today-leaders forget. It is also worthwhile remembering a few things about the Kingship of Christ: First – He was a point of unity. Like a quarterback who leads the team or a parent that leads a family; like a pope who leads the church or a chief that leads a department. In the lineage and image of King David, the greatest king the Israelites had known, Jesus came to unite, not only the people of Israel, but all people of every race and language and tongue, of every time and generation. The quality of leadership is forever measured in unity. As St. Paul reminds us, “In him, all things hold together.” Second – He held people to the highest standards but always forgave them for their imperfections. The cross stands as a sign of victory, not as a weapon of force but a force of forgiveness, the ultimate power of mercy, the final promise of all who sin. “Today,” he told his fellow crucified, “you will be with me in paradise.” My friends, if we take those two simple qualities of the King of the Universe: Unity and Mercy, and make them our own, it would seem that we would be operating in the best of the kingdoms. If those two qualities, unity and mercy, became the mission of whatever earthly kingdom in which we operate, it would seem that we are doing the will of God. Of this we can be sure: The world will one day forget us. That’s just a fact of life. But if those two simple qualities of the King of the Universe become our mantra of life, we can be assured that Jesus will not forget us. On the day we utter our final plea, we will hear those same words: “Today, you will be with me in Paradise.” Fr. Gary Krahenbuhl |
Audio Recording
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33rd Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 13, 2022 A wise pastor once told me that if you start repeating stories you’ve been in a parish too long or you are getting old! So, if you’ve heard this story before you can blame it on either -I’ve been here too long or I’m old - but this remains one of my most memorable moments of my priesthood. Ruby Bonds was an African-American woman who lived well into her nineties. I was visiting with her in her home one day many years ago and asked her how things were going. She responded with the most wonderful statement in her lovely southern-black voice: “Father, every morning the first thing I do is pinch myself. If it hurts I say, ‘Get up old woman; God’s given ya ‘nother day.’” We’re all going to die. But we’re not dead, at least not yet. God has given us another day! Both are good things for us to remember. One day…someday…we will die; the world as we know it is going to end. Jesus, like Malachi and all the great prophets that came before him, never hid that truth. It might be by war or insurrection or powerful earthquakes, by famine or plagues or persecution. It might be cancer or a heart attack or an accident or simply old age, but we are all going to die. But today we are alive; God has given us another day. What Jesus and the great prophets that came before him did was to prepare us for that moment of death by teaching us how to live this day. There is something to be said about living fully every day with the anticipation of the end. There is even something quite holy and hopeful about it. But how do you get there? Paul gave two bits of advice to the church of Thessalonica that might seem kind of silly or naive, but I think they are filled with great wisdom: Work quietly. Eat your own food. Work quietly. There is work to be done. I don’t think that anyone could hold a valid argument that the world is exactly as we want it, that our family relationships and international relationships are where they could be, that we are living and loving the way we are called to live and love. I am quite certain that the church is far from what God intends us to be. And contrary to what many politicians and CEO’s and church leaders would like us to believe, the best work is not that which happens in high profile offices but in the everyday labors of the women and men of our communities, with us. Teachers and nurses and janitors and musicians, people who wait on tables and those who check us out at the store, retirees and students, as mothers and fathers and grandparents and neighbors and friends. This is where God’s work quietly and consistently happens: around our kitchen tables and in our schools, when we drive and when we wait in line. We have work to do. And eat your own food. Simple advice that Paul gave his people to stay on track. Much of what we can do to live in anticipation of tomorrow and whatever tomorrow brings is to live simply, prudently, and graciously. Greed is the destroyer of tomorrow. When we live beyond our means, desire more than what we need or live in envy of what others have and when we steal off of other’s plates, we destroy the balance and harmony of the community. Don’t worry about how much more everyone else has on their plate; eat your own food. It makes for a more peaceful table. I took Ruby’s advice this morning. It hurt. I’ve got another day. So do you. |
Audio Recording
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32nd Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 6, 2022 A little prelude to the first reading today: It’s an Old Testament reading from the Second Book of Maccabees. It was written about a hundred and fifty years before Jesus was born, a time of great persecution of the Hebrew race, the Jewish people. People were being tortured and killed; cities were destroyed; the temple had been defiled; it was a time when hope was thin. The Book of Maccabbees was a work of literature written to give hope back to the people of Israel at this time and to inflict a little fear into the conquering armies so that they knew that God—the God of Israel—was not about to abandon his people. It was written to inspire and remind people that the story was not finished. God was with them. The entire seventh chapter, of which we only get a few snippets in our first reading, is about a woman and her seven sons who were being cruelly tortured by the king. The king was trying to get them to eat pork, to transgress the laws of their faith. One by one, her sons were cruelly tortured. But one by one they refused the king’s attempts to get them to turn their back to the God of Israel. One by one they died, all as their mother watched. Finally, she met the same fate. Yet even in the face of that inhuman experience, she never stopped encouraging her sons; none ever lost faith. They knew that whatever they suffered in this life would pale in comparison to what awaited them in the resurrection. --------------------------------Homily--------------------------- There are some things that God did not reveal to us (and I have to assume) on purpose, like what heaven will be like. Artists have attempted but are limited by their imaginations. Song writers can write music that can lift our hearts and spirits heavenward but they can’t come close to reveal eternal life. Authors have told stories but words are limited to capture the fullness of eternal life. Even the best of the best theologians are limited by the lack of revelation of God and limitations of their own minds. There’s a reason for that - because nothing, nothing in the vast gifts of this world, could possibly come close to what heaven is. God knows that. We are the ones who keep forgetting. So, we keep asking same old questions: Do you think our pets go to heaven? Do you think we are old or young when we get up there? Will we recognize our loved ones who have gone before us? Will there be food in heaven? Will all our questions be answered? Or, as in today’s gospel: “Whose wife will she be?” Can’t you just picture Jesus putting his head into his hands and wondering, “Where do they come up with this stuff?!” Resurrection is based upon the eternal nature of God. We can’t fully imagine it or describe it because it cannot be contained in our mortal nature. It is so far beyond us that we can’t legitimately capture it. So, we are left to sing about it and paint it and talk about it and ponder it. But we’ll never get it. God has not revealed it to us…yet. What God has revealed to us, is that we must prepare for it now by how we live in this world. The seven brothers and their mother stood with courage as martyrs not because they were the bravest souls of the land but because they trusted that whatever they had on earth, even their suffering, would pale in comparison to the glories they were about to receive in heaven. We must live our lives remembering by remembering what will last forever and what cannot, by keeping in perspective what is of this world and what is not. We must use our limited and measurable time wisely and generously because time will have no value in the kingdom of heaven. We must remember that the treasures of this earth may, indeed, provide some sense of security (perhaps) and will offer some pleasure (however fleeting) in our earthly journey but in the kingdom of heaven earthly treasure has no place; where all is complete and all is fulfilled. But how we use our talents and gifts on this earth matters greatly. God has not revealed the fullness of the kingdom that awaits us when we die for a reason. For that we must wait. But without doubt, God has revealed how we are to live on this earth. That is what we can paint with generosity and sing with loving charity and write with compassion for the poor and the tell the story of faith in our good works. Until the day of eternity. |
Audio Recording
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31st Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time October 30, 2022 - INTO THE DEEP One of our fourth-graders said this week that she wishes I’d quit talking about INTO THE DEEP at Mass because it’s boring. Well…boring as it may sound, I assure you, it is and will be anything but boring when it all comes to be. So, sorry: one more weekend If you have missed either of the last two weekends, I urge you to go to the Diocese of Madison website for more information. I’ll also be sending out a Flocknote this week, again. It will contain a lot of background information and, as important, the opportunity for you to sign up for further information coming from the Diocese as well as offer opportunities for your feedback. It is going to take all of us to be willing to reimagine our parish structures and embrace a new model for parish life; we must be willing to let go of some things that keep us from following Jesus with continued courage and generosity. We will have to work together in new ways with other parishes, and commit to renewing the culture and priorities within our parish. If we do all of that, we believe that the INTO THE DEEP vision is attainable across the Diocese of Madison. Having said this, I would like to offer a brief sketch of this new model that is being developed and discerned. • Currently, there are 102 parishes and 135 churches in the Diocese of Madison. Remember that a parish and a church are two different things. A parish is a community of the faithful typically within a geographical boundary, while a church is a sacred building within a parish territory where people gather to celebrate Masses and weddings and funerals. As such, every parish has at least 1 church to serve the needs of the people within that parish, but a parish may also have more than 1 church (for example: St. Faustina Parish has two churches – one in Pardeeville and one in Buffalo Township.) • Under this new model our 102 parishes will be initially reorganized into approximately 30 “pastorates” or groupings of parishes. Each of these 30 (or so) “pastorates” will be led by a single Pastor, with other priests working alongside him. So, each pastorate will have a small “team of priests” - plus a unified group of lay employees and deacons working together to serve the needs of their parishioners. The number “30” allows for a stable/sustainable model for decades into the future to provide for the needs of the faithful. • In early November, the diocese will offer the plan that has been developed and will seek your feedback about these proposed “pastorates” and the model as a whole. As such, if you have good ideas to contribute, you are encouraged to share them with the diocese when the public feedback phase begins in November. Following this period of public feedback and continued refinement, the “pastorates” will be finalized sometime in January or February of 2023. Next summer, parishes will officially start working together as “pastorates” and new priest assignments will begin. • Between July of 2023 and the summer of 2024, the parishes within each of the pastorates will begin the process to merge into a single canonical parish. A merger is like a marriage, where previously separate entities become one with a shared or common life together. So, by the summer of 2024 and through the merger process we will have approximately 30 new parishes in the Diocese of Madison with 135 churches, school buildings and rectories. • Following these mergers and the formation of these new canonical parishes, each parish will then have to prayerfully and prudently discern at the local level which of their churches or other buildings are no longer needed or helpful in their proclaiming and living out the Gospel and the mission of the Church. If it is determined by the pastor -in consultation with parish leadership groups, and after considering other available options- that one or more of their buildings would be a grave burden and should no longer be used without causing harm to the good of souls, then they will seek the Bishop’s permission, with due consultation, and receive guidance from the diocese about how to properly close/repurpose/sell the respective buildings. Any money that is received from the sale of a building will remain locally with the parish to be used at their discretion; the diocese does not receive this money. And they will also have to work together at unifying their Mass times, programs and activities, and leadership groups with the goal of building a stronger Catholic community together than if they were to have remained apart. So, while it may sound boring, clearly, the next several years will be anything but boring in our diocese. May God guide us, may He bless us, may He strengthen us, and may He help all of us in the Diocese of Madison to follow Him as committed missionary disciples. Our hope is that by coming together and collaborating in new ways we will be able to more effectively and fruitfully: 1) follow Jesus; 2) reclaim Sunday as the Sabbath; 3) bring those who have lost connection with their church or faith back into the fold; 5) form strong leaders within parishes; and 6) serve neighbors both now and well into the future. |
Audio Recording
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30TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Into the Deep Homily
October 22 & 23, 2022 Last weekend I spoke about Into the Deep – the Diocese of Madison’s Strategic Plan to move our parishes from maintenance to mission. It is obvious that we are facing some significant challenges, which requires a significant and bold solution. This is especially true if we are going to stop the practice of simply managing decline, and build a healthier and holier reality for future generations of family and faithful. So, to begin: why? – why are we embarking upon this arduous journey together throughout the diocese? 1. The resources (clergy, human, financial, structural, etc.) of our diocese and parishes are no longer well aligned for the sake of our essential mission to keep the Gospel of Jesus Christ alive in our families and communities. 2. The steep decline in people celebrating the sacraments and regularly attending Mass are signs of a deep spiritual crisis, and COVID has only accelerated this crisis. As our society has become more secular, religious belief and practice have substantially declined. 4. Families today face increasing challenges and pressures, and we are inadequately helping them to live as “the domestic church”/as communities of Christian disciples. 5. We are underserving certain communities across the diocese, such as the Hispanic community, whose deep faith and devotion could help to renew our institutions. 6. We have many underutilized and/or aging facilities that are not always conducive to the needs of today. 7. The current financial models in most of our parishes, schools, and diocese are not sustainable, and we struggle to attract and retain qualified and faithful lay employees. 8. Existing structures often prevent the diocese from being able to assign priests to parishes/ministries according to their gifts and talents. Given all of this, it is obvious that our current model of parish life is not working, and something needs to change. We know, however, that God has not abandoned us, and so we are convinced –with firm faith – that He has a plan for us, and that He is inviting us at this precise moment in history to reimagine what a parish can and needs to be. With the help of His grace, we are developing a new model of how our parishes are organized and operate in the future. So, where is God leading us? What do we seek with this new model that is being discerned and developed? We want to: 1. Realign diocesan, parish, and school resources for the sake of the essential mission of the church - to “make disciples.” 2. We want to offer more and better formational opportunities for families and people of all ages, including a more effective and unified approach to Catholic schools. 3. We will reclaim the Sabbath and Eucharist as the center of parish life and increase participation in the Sacraments with vibrant church liturgies at greater than 50% capacity so all the faithful will experience Masses that are lively and life-giving. 5. We have to address facility needs, maintenance, and usage; financially stabilize our parishes, schools, and the diocese; and hire, retain, and pay qualified and faithful staff. 6. We will follow recent directives from the Vatican so that those who voluntarily wish to attend Traditional Latin Mass may do so, but those who do not are not forced to. 7. Create schedules, assignments, and responsibilities that allow our priests to live happy, healthy, and holy lives; to work in collaboration; and be responsible for no more than 3 weekend Masses. Having said all of this, how do we plan to get there? We will get there by seeking after and following the Holy Spirit, by working together in new ways, by keeping the richness of the Church’s Tradition but letting go of outmoded models and other attachments that keep us from doing God’s will. We cannot rely upon ourselves apart from God - or violate Church teachings, canon law, civil laws, or other diocesan policies, or ignore the data or goals mentioned. We cannot change parish, school, and/or diocesan structures without a corresponding change in culture. Into the Deep is about changing our structures, while Go Make Disciples is about changing our culture. Both are necessary. We must make structural changes, but even more importantly, we must continue to change and renew our parish cultures – which begins with each one of us recommitting ourselves to following Jesus with all of our hearts. You will have an opportunity to provide feedback on this new model next month. We are embarking upon this bold journey together with gratitude for the past but with a realistic eye towards the present and sincere hope for the future. But above all, we are looking towards Heaven – our true homeland and the source of all spiritual renewal! St. Paul wrote to his companion, Timothy: “The Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that through me the proclamation might be completed and all might hear it.” May God guide us, may He bless us, may He strengthen us, and may He help all in the Diocese of Madison follow Him as disciples…Into the Deep! |
Audio Recording
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29TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Into the Deep Homily on Our Current Reality and the 8 Takeaways (Weekend of October 15/16, 2022)
Today and over the next two weekends Bishop Hying has asked all priests to speak about Into the Deep – the Diocese of Madison’s Strategic Plan to move our diocese, parishes, and other Catholic institutions from maintenance to mission. In particular, tonight/this morning I am going to talk about our Current Reality. I know that some of you may already be familiar with this information because you’ve been following along via the Catholic Herald, the Into the Deep website, Flocknote messages, etc. Nevertheless, I’m sharing it here at Mass because the Bishop wants to ensure that everyone knows about this important endeavor. Also, please know that we will have handouts in all the bulletins this weekend, so please take one with you and ponder it carefully. I am going to share with you some important statistics and facts, book-ended by a reflection from Bishop Hying. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we know that nothing happens outside of God’s providence and foreknowledge. Every event – no matter how challenging or confusing it may be when it happens, or how unrelated it may appear to be to other events – is in fact willed by God for our good, if not directly then at least permissively. This is the teaching of our faith. As St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans: “We know that in everything God works for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose” God’s action of creation, redemption, and sanctification, which He marvelously fulfilled and revealed in the Paschal Mystery is the ultimate truth and meaning of human existence. It underlies all other realities, including our current reality in the Diocese of Madison. It is important that we remember this as we courageously follow the Lord Jesus’ call to put out into the deep. Equally important, however, is that we honestly and truthfully face our current reality. For as the Lord Jesus says, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). For us this means that we acknowledge and accept the difficult truths of our current reality, so that together we are free to follow Him into a brighter future for our local Church, that is, the Diocese of Madison. Over the past six months, PartnersEdge, LLC, and the Into the Deep Strategic Planning Team have been working hard gathering and analyzing various data sets, including demographic data, parish and school data, financial and giving data, sacramental and priest data, historical data, etc. This professional, comprehensive, and thorough effort has led to the creation of a Current Reality Report, which spells out with great clarity and insight our current reality our Diocese. In particular, there are 8 principal “takeaways” from the Current Reality Report: FIRST: THE TOTAL POPULATION ACROSS THE DIOCESE IS GROWING.
SECOND: WE ARE LOSING CATHOLIC PEOPLE, ESPECIALLY OUR YOUNGER PEOPLE; AND WE ARE AGING.
THIRD: FEWER AND FEWER PEOPLE ARE ATTENDING MASS.
FOURTH: SIGNIFICANTLY FEWER PEOPLE ARE RECEIVING SACRAMENTS. In looking at Sacramental Trends the following data points are heartbreaking to hear:
FIFTH: FAITH FORMATION ENROLLMENT IS IN A FREE FALL, WHILE CATHOLIC SCHOOL ENROLLMENT IS HOLDING RELATIVELY STEADY.
SIXTH: WE HAVE SIGNIFICANTLY FEWER PRIESTS THAN IN THE PAST, BUT, PRAISE GOD, WE PROJECT TO BE RELATIVELY STABLE INTO THE FUTURE.
SEVENTH: PEOPLE WHO GIVE DONATE ABOUT 2% OF THEIR INCOME; WITH FEWER OLDER PEOPLE GIVING MORE THESE DAYS.
In looking at Financial Trends the following data points are noteworthy:
Again, in from Bishop Hying: When considering these 8 “takeaways” from the Current Reality Report together it is obvious that we are facing some significant challenges. But this probably comes as no surprise. And these issues are not new; most have been building for quite some time. Recognizing this, the diocese has made attempts at various points over the past few decades to tackle some of these and other pressing issues. Parishes have clustered or merged, priests have taken on additional responsibilities, slight modifications have been made. But, despite the best of intentions, most of these efforts have been inadequate, incomplete, and/or directed towards symptoms rather than root causes. With some notable exceptions, most dioceses in the country have tried to “tweak” or “band-aid” these growing problems rather than ask, “what if God is inviting us to re-imagine what a parish can and needs to be in an increasingly post- Christian culture?” Once again, we face significant challenges. And this necessitates a significant and bold response. Now is the time for us to look reality square in the face, see the truth, and with boundless hope and trust in Jesus Christ courageously put out into the deep to re-imagine what a parish can and needs to be if we are going to fulfill our mandate to go make disciples. We must be willing to let go of the past – or any other attachments that may hinder us – to follow Him into a new and brighter future, that is, into a healthier and holier reality. In the words of St. Peter, “Master, we have toiled all night and took nothing. But at your word [we] will let down the nets” (Luke 5:5). May God guide us, and may He grant us the grace, courage, generosity, and faith of St. Peter to follow Him into the deep and into a new reality! Next weekend I will be sharing with you our dream for the future, and how with God’s help we hope to get there. Please pray for this effort and may God renew the Diocese of Madison, our parishes, and each one of us for the sake of making disciples! I find the last line of the Gospel today to be a very poignant question. If Jesus would have had a microphone to drop, it would be “microphone drop” moment then, as it is today: “When the Son of Man comes, will there be any faith on earth?” |
Audio Recording
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28TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 9, 2022 Pythagoras gave us the theory of geometry that we all learned in junior high: the sum of the squares on the legs of a right triangle is equal to the square on the hypotenuse. (Remember that?) Einstein gave us the Theory of relativity: E = mc2. Here’s my theory: Gratitude will always lead to respect. Put in another way: If we are grateful people, we will be respectful people. It’s not all that complicated. Naaman figured it out. [He was a powerful leader of the Syrian armies, arch-enemy of the Israelites, but now had leprosy, outcast and vulnerable and scared. Desperate enough to ask his slave-girl to go to the enemy and ask for help. And help he received through the prophet Elisha.] Naaman was cured of his leprosy in the waters of the Jordan River and, wanting to give thanks to the God who had cured him, took the trouble to haul back a couple of loads of dirt so that he would never forget the gift he received from the God of Israel. The Samaritan leper, cured of his leprosy, figured it out. He came back to Jesus – a sworn enemy of the Samaritans for generations, and in gratitude, fell on his knees in respect of a man that he was sworn to hate. How about us? Have we come to that truth in our lives? Are we grateful people? Because if not, when we stop being grateful, we stop being respectful. If we are not grateful for the gift of all that God has created in its delicate balance, and our life that depends upon it, we will stop respecting it. And the consequences of not respecting creation will haunt not only us but all generations that come after us. If we are not grateful for every child conceived or of a dying person in their fragile state of life, we will not respect that life and in that irreverence, no longer make it a priority to protect that life. If we are not grateful for every person, regardless of what they became, or how they failed to live up to our expectations, we will no longer respect that person’s existence and what they have to offer the world in their imperfections. If we are not grateful for immigrants and refugees and the opportunity to offer what we have to lift them from their place of vulnerability, we will no longer respect them as our brothers and sisters in Christ. If we do not hold those of imperfect bodies, or who have minds that are ill or souls that are troubled or whose spirits are wracked with addiction – if we do not hold them with the same gratitude as those of healthy minds and bodies and spirits and souls, we can no longer say we respect the person to whom the body or mind or soul or spirit is connected. If we are not grateful for the wonder that is brought into our church and our communities and our families by people who experience life and love differently than we do, or who speak or look or believe differently than we do, we will no longer honor them with respect they deserve and appreciate the richness they bring to the Body of Christ. And if we stop being grateful to God, we stop respecting God. And that, my friends, is a very dangerous place to be in life. It’s not rocket science; it’s actually pretty simple. When we are grateful people, will we be respectful people. |
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27TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 2, 2022 There is no text version for this weekend, but there is an audio recording. |
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26TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 25, 2022 I’ve been preaching this gospel parable now for 40-years, and I’m quite certain that never in that forty years has anyone fully identified with the rich man, myself included. Somehow, we give ourselves a way out. First of all, because most of us don’t think of ourselves as being rich. Sure, we may have more assets than some others but we’re not really rich. Not in comparison to the billionaires that own yachts and mansions. Right? And second, because most people that I know who are rich are actually quite generous. In fact, very generous. So, what does this parable of Jesus have to say to us? I’d like to switch it around a bit: what if the riches that the parable of Jesus have nothing to do with money. What if the wealth we are talking about is simply this: our faith? What we believe. It might have been our hard work or simply because we inherited the gift of faith through no real merit of our own; or perhaps we married well. But we are here today because we believe in something, someone – God who is powerful beyond all worldly measure and yet chose to dwell among us as a human being. We believe that God becomes present to us in the Scriptures that are proclaimed, in the Sacraments we celebrate and in each other. Our faith has carried us through the toughest times of our lives, led us to forgive when forgiveness seemed impossible. Our faith brings us together with fellow believers as one family, one Body of Christ, right here in this church, for generation after generation. Our faith has brought us to our knees, moved us to bow our heads, united us in common purpose in the greatest moments of celebration and in the most challenging of times. What if this, our faith, not money, was the wealth that we are talking about today. Let’s start there and listen to the story once again with a little re-write. “There was a woman, rich in faith, that prayed every day. Next door was a young man that had no faith. He didn’t know the love of God, wasn’t raised in a family of faith with the comfort of God’s presence in his home. He hungered for even a scrap of something, something that gave more meaning to his life, that healed some pretty deep wounds. He had never tasted the strength that faith could offer and the depth of love it would reveal. “But when the young man tragically lost his life, he was carried into the bosom of Abraham. The woman also died, and from the netherworld, where she was in torment, she raised her eyes and saw Abraham far off and the young man at his side. “And she cried out, ‘Father Abraham, what’s up with this? Have pity on me! Send the young man to dip his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering in torment in these flames.’ Abraham replied, “My child, remember that you received so much faith in your lifetime; this young man wasn’t that fortunate. But now, he is comforted here but you are not. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established that keeps us separated. Do you know why? “Your faith, my daughter, was not meant simply to bring you comfort, to give you peace of mind. It was meant to share. What did you ever do to share that faith with your neighbor? What conversation did you ever begin? What morsel of faith did you set upon his plate? What love did you ever show him in my name? When did you ever pray for him, encourage him to get to know me? “I gave you so much – a bed of ivory! What did you do to share the wealth of faith that you were so privileged to have in this life?” The Gospel of the Lord. |
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25TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time September 18, 2022 Most days, I struggle enough with the English language, so I always admire people who can master multiple languages, particularly those who learn English as their second language. How do you explain to a non-English-speaking person that “read” (r-e-a-d) and “read” (r-e-a-d) are different words but spelled the same? As is the sentence: “I was going to read the book tomorrow but I read it today. And what if the book had a red cover? It would be all the more confusing, right? Similar confusion can happen when the same phrase can have a completely different meaning, as in the phrase, “to take advantage of.” I can say, “I took advantage of the opportunity.” It can mean that there was an opportunity to do something good, and I went for it. Or it can mean there was an opportunity to do something not so good, and I went for it. Confusing, right? That’s why we can hear the parable today and scratch our heads and say, “Wait! What?” Jesus played the linguistic card of the day and got the people thinking. He wasn’t telling the people to be dishonest and take advantage at someone else’s expense, though that’s exactly what it sounds like. That would contradict his entire message and that of the prophets of old in their admonition to care for the poor and the vulnerable. He was, rather, giving them an example of how they, as God-like people, could take advantage to do something good. Like the steward in the parable, we are given the opportunity to take advantage of that which is offered to us: to accept God’s mercy and forgiveness, to place our burdens upon the shoulders of Christ; to be unburdened of the anger that still holds our hearts and the sin that weighs us down. We are welcomed to take advantage of the opportunities to deepen our faith, to learn more about God in whom we profess our faith. We are encouraged to take advantage of every door that is opened to us by Christ. Likewise, as the Body of Christ, as people of faith, as members of God’s kingdom, we become bearers of compassion, ambassadors of mercy, proclaimers of God’s love for others. We hold a certain power, a responsibility with the wealth of gifts God has entrusted to us. And with that power, with those gifts we have the opportunity to ease the burdens of the poor, to encourage those who are weighed down by grief, to welcome those who feel excluded, to heal those who are broken. It might be the simplest conversation in which we extend a word of kindness, or to welcome others into the world of faith in Jesus Christ. To unburden someone of the cross they bear, or forgive as we have been forgiven. This wealth, this power puts us in an advantage, not for our benefit but for the benefit for others. Not to take advantage of others but to use the advantage for others. Unlike our English language that can be very complicated, this stuff, this gospel, really isn’t that complicated at all. |
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24TH Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 11, 2022 I’m not sure just where in Wisconsin the line of demarcation is drawn, but I know when I moved to this area nine years ago, something changed. When I lived in Beloit and left someone’s house to drive home you got the “drive safe” farewell. But in the last nine years, what I have heard in a farewell is slightly different. “Watch out for the deer!” As if there is anything you can actually do to keep your bumper and the buck from meeting when he jumps out at you. Both farewells fall in the line of other warnings and cautions: Don’t cut yourself. Don’t fall on the ice. Be careful with the power saw. All good warnings; all good admonitions; all meant to keep us safe and in one piece. But, admit it, sometimes it is good to let go! Not to put others or ourselves at risk but to eat dessert first, to buy the lottery ticket when there isn’t a snowball chance in July that you’d win the millions. To sing in the shower at full voice, to dance like Tom Cruise did in the movie Risky Business (when no one else is home, of course). Live a little recklessly. That, my friends, is exactly what God is calling us to do. Not in recklessly putting ourselves or someone else at risk, but to recklessly live mercy! We are called to imitate God in that reckless outpouring of love and forgiveness. But living our faith recklessly, as God demands, is challenging. We’re just not wired to do so. Or at least not trained to do so. We live with the cautions of life always rolling around in our heads to keep us safe and in one piece – personally and as a community. The Israelites called it justice. Their lives and laws and understanding of God was mostly a good thing, like mighty “cautions” from God of what to do and not do, how to keep things in order, to keep safe and united. But when it came to forgiveness, god didn’t work that way. God couldn’t help himself. The only response of God was to remove all the filters of practical justice, all the cautions, and simply forgive. To offer mercy with reckless abandon. That’s why when Jesus taught parables of mercy and forgiveness, he was teaching the people to move beyond their sense of retribution, beyond their understanding of justice, beyond what would be normally expected. No respectable shepherd would abandon ninety-nine sheep in search of one that wandered away. That would be irresponsible. And when Jesus told the story about the crazy woman that wastes a whole day tearing her house apart looking for a penny, a single little penny, and then when she finds it she throws a party for the whole neighborhood, they’d shake their heads and say, “Well how much is that going to cost her? That just doesn’t make any sense!” Is that not what God is telling us? Doing for us? Asking us to follow? Is that not what it means to sing words of mercy when vengeance would be the expected song of the day? Are we not being called to shout forgiveness before condemnation, to dance a dance of love before suspicion? When it comes to bearing God’s mercy to the world, should we not be crazy like the shepherd and go after the one that is lost, be foolish like the woman throwing a party for one silly penny? St. Paul reminded Timothy that “Jesus Christ came into this world to save sinners,” and “display all his patience as an example for those who would come to believe in him.” The key to unlocking this whole story of mercy is this: First, we have to believe that God forgives us. Let’s start there: with our personal failings. When we didn’t live up to our best as parents or friends or child or servant of God. Because if we believe that God so recklessly shares his love and mercy with us, what is keeping us from doing the same? First by forgiving ourselves for our own shortcomings and failures and faults. And then, forgiving others for theirs. So, yes, when it comes to deer, be cautious, watch out. When it comes to sharp objects, be careful. But when it comes to forgiveness, be a little risky: dance like Tom Cruise. |
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23RD Sunday of Ordinary Time
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Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 4, 2022 I could imagine this conversation between Jesus and St. Luke in the Kingdom right now: “Luke, what in God’s name were you thinking? I didn’t think you’d actually write that stuff down! You’re going to give these people a heart attack. You must hate your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sister…renounce all of their possessions…carry your own cross! And Luke would respond: “Well, you said it, Jesus. How am I supposed to know you didn’t really mean it?” Actually, I doubt that conversation is –or ever has- taken place. I suspect that the conversation is more than likely something like this: “Well, Luke, they’re just not getting it. I had to get their attention because they just didn’t seem to be listening. I gave them everything they needed to be happy. They just didn’t realize it; they just haven’t tapped into it. “I’ve given them every bit of courage they need to stand in my name before anyone for what is right and good an holy even if they are hated for it, the kind of courage to put their relationship with me ahead of any other relationship in their lives and realize it will make every other relationship better, the courage to love me more than they love any person of this world, the courage they need to let go of any relationship that keeps them from living my gospel. “I’ve given them the strength to carry the cross every day! The strength to forgive when they have every reason to retaliate, the strength to keep going for my sake when they’d rather give up, the strength to live justly when it would be so much easier and more fun to live selfishly, the strength to stand up for the poor and the weak and bullied when everyone else forgets them. “You know! Possessions have a way of seeming so permanent and important and crucial when so often they just get in the way. They cloud what really matters and pretend to give joy that is so fleeting compared to what I can give. How many times did I teach them that things can get in the way of me, and dared them to give it all up if they do? “Luke, don’t they know I’ve given them the Holy Spirit just like I gave it to you and everyone who has ever believed in me since? “You remember Onesimus, Paul’s friend? Paul was already in jail because he was preaching my message. That day he broke every social taboo and welcomed him, a slave, as his very own son. He loved him and people hated him for it. But he had the courage and the love and the strength to send him to Philemon and said, ‘He’s not a slave. He’s our brother. And if you love me, you will love him, too.’ We see, that’s what I’m talking about. Following me means sometimes you have to break the rules, be bold, be different, be confident. “You got it right, Luke. It’s tough stuff to grasp. Real tough. But when they do, when they figure it out, it’s going to set them free. They will be on fire! And finally, Luke would respond, “So…you don’t want me to rewrite the gospel? Soften it up a bit? Make it just a little easier?” “No, Luke, it’s my Word and I’m sticking to it.” |
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22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time
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22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time
August 28, 2022 In his first message to the world as the first-ever Pope Francis in 2013, after asking prayers for his predecessor, the newly elected Pope said this: “And now I would like to give the blessing. But first I want to ask you a favor. Before the Bishop blesses the people, I ask that you would pray to the Lord to bless me – the prayer of the people for their Bishop. Let us say this prayer – your prayer for me – in silence.” And thus began one of the most unique papacies of our church’s history. That night he didn’t go to the papal palace, as would be the custom; he went back to the hotel. The next day, he paid is own hotel bill. He forgoes the “pope mobile” for a small, compact car; wears simple vestments instead of the most ornate. His teachings and off-the-cuff comments and writing all reveal that he clearly takes the parable of today’s gospel to heart. It is why he told the new Cardinals yesterday that their place is in the kitchen feeding the poor, why on Holy Thursday he washes the feet of prison inmates. And that is what makes him one of the most powerful persons on the face of the earth. It is also why there is a strong group opposing Francis: laypeople, theologians, bishops and cardinals who would like him to disappear from the scene. Isaac the Syrian, a 7th Century bishop and theologian, said that a person who is genuinely humble gives off a certain scent that other people can pick up. Here’s his logic: In the presence of such a person one does not feel judged and has nothing to fear. People feel safe around a humble person and are drawn to him or her. By this theory, it is why animals, even wild animals, fall under its spell and never harm that person. Isaac believed that humble person has (in his words) “recovered the smell of paradise.” The word humility takes its root in the Latin word, humus, meaning soil, ground, dirt. If one goes with this definition then humble people are the most-earthy and most-grounded people we know. To be humble is to be firmly planted on the ground, to be in touch with the earth - and to carry the smell of the earth. To be humble is to take one’s rightful place as a piece of the earth and not as someone or something separate from it. To recover the smell of paradise. Humility should never be confused, as it often is, with a wounded self-image or with being timid. Too often we think a humble person is one who puts themselves down or deflects praise (even when it’s deserved), who wouldn’t think of stepping forward and offering his or her gifts to the community because it would draw attention to them. But truly humble people are the most-grounded, that is, those who know they are not the earth but also know that they are not a second-rate piece of dirt either. It is why so many leaders of his time were threatened by Jesus. It is why the Wisdom writers of our faith history held humility as a trait of the best of its leaders. It is why the psalmist sang of God’s care for the poor. It is why the Christian church saw their relationship with God change when God humbled himself to come among us as one like us; he broke down any division between God and his creation. No wonder people like Francis of Assisi could talk to birds and befriend wolves; no wonder why Pope Francis has been able to build bridges with people that have been alienated from the church, or hurt by the church. “Who am I to judge?” Following a humble leader is always an adventure, for sure – a step into a world turned upside-down. Being humble ourselves is an even greater adventure, to be transformed, changed and, and in humility, become the most powerful weapon against evil and division that exists. Humility is an adventure that, Jesus promised, will be repaid in the resurrection of the righteous. That’s a pretty solid promise to hold on to, don’t you think? |
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21st Sunday of Ordinary Time
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21st Sunday of Ordinary Time August 21, 2022 It used to be Jeopardy and The Newlywed Game. But then came Survivor, and then The Final Straw, The Voice, Bachelor and Bachelorette, America’s Got Talent, Dancing with Myself, Don’t Forget the Lyrics, Master Chef….the possibilities are endless with unscripted television shows of competition. In fact, there are more than 750 different so-called “reality shows” that fill network and cable TV. Seriously: doesn’t life itself offer enough unscripted competition? Because able-bodied or not, muscular or not, talented or not, good looking or not, we all share in one life-long competition, the quest for the mother of all finish lines, the crown of all crowns: to be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven. That’s reality! There is an argument, of course, that crossing that finish line relies solely on the love of God. No one, even the saintliest among us, could possibly get there without the love of God. And it is true that there is an inclusivity of God’s love that our minds can hardly capture: that God loves all people completely and fully and without condition. Everyone, no matter how good or bad, how moral or immoral, how law-abiding or how criminal the world judges – no one is beyond the mercy and love of God. I’ll preach that thousands of times in my years with you. It will be a mantra I hope you never forget. God’s love for us is unconditional, complete gift. We can’t earn it; we can’t bargain for it or bargain it away. There is nothing we can do to make God love us more and nothing we can do to make God love us less. But (Yes, there is a “but.”) that love comes with expectation. God doesn’t want to be a part of your life; God wants it all. Not an hour a week, not an hour a day, but all of it. From the very beginning God made it clear he is not picky about who shows up at the gates. He told the people of Jerusalem that he will literally send their fugitives to the east and the west, from the north and the south and invite foreigners, those that have never even heard of me will be welcomed to come to Jerusalem. But God also made it abundantly clear from the beginning that there were expectations -not conditions to his love, but expectations in response to that love. And that, brothers and sisters, has never changed and never will. God’s love, if we accept it, will take us places we may not want to go and lead us places we could never imagine, but there has always been an expectation that we must live in that love, reflect that love, use that love every day of our lives and in every decision of our lives and in every challenge of our lives. God never stops loving us; God’s love, the invitation to live in and through that love, never, ever changes. So, the final word of our entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven is not so much in God’s hands as it is in ours. And it is not simply answered at the time of death. It is answered right now, with how we respond to the love of God today. It is not about perfection; it is about willing to accept discipline and correction. It is not about being the best; it is about being humble and sometimes contrite. It is not about winning; it is about enduring, about holding on to the end. It is not about being first; it is about being faithful. It is the ultimate unscripted game and the only one we can truly call reality. |
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Assumption of Mary
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Assumption of Mary
August 15, 2022 I have said, more than once in the past couple of weeks, that I don’t want to BE 20 or 30 year’s old. (Been there; done that.) What I do want is a 20 or 30-year old body. One with less aches and pains, a little more flexible and with a few less miles on it. But, such is aging and being human. But the Feast we celebrate today, honoring the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, gives me hope, not for a young body, but for an eternal body. As beautiful as the theology of this feast is, it runs the risk of just sounding a lot like just an elaborate way of saying “Mary is awesome.” But the theology of this feast runs much deeper than that. Through the Immaculate Conception, Mary was free from original sin in order to be able to cooperate completely with God in the Annunciation, welcoming Jesus’ incarnation. She has in full the freedom that all of us were made for. In baptism, we too, are made without sin. And in the Assumption, we see where that full freedom leads, to the fullness of life, both soul and body, with God. Mary’s Assumption is a promise of God’s hope and desire for all of us, not a one-off miracle solely for her sake. This is what we are made for, and Mary goes before us to show the way. In the preface for today’s liturgy, prayed just before the “Holy, Holy, Holy” in the Mass, there is a beautiful line that does a lot to explain why we celebrate the Assumption in the first place. The preface says that the Blessed Mother’s “was assumed into heaven as the beginning and image of your church’s coming to perfection, and a sign of sure hope and comfort to your pilgrim people.” But unlike Mary, we have a long way to go, individually and as a church. We are far from perfect, in need of God’s endless mercy, dependent upon the unbounded love of God. Because the reality is that we are still much closer to pride and might and wealth than we are to lowliness and hunger. And so the promise God makes through Mary is that the path God lays out for all of us; the path Mary has followed will involve us being humbled, as well. In order to share the hope of the Assumption—in order to share any Christian hope at all—we have to start by admitting that both we and the world are broken in a way that we cannot fix on our own. We have to admit that we hope for something we cannot achieve ourselves. And then, even in the midst of our sin and hypocrisy, we begin to cooperate with the freedom God offers, the freedom Mary knew fully, to be humbled in order to be lifted up. Mary’s Assumption is the promise that such hope is better than we can imagine, and the reminder that the way to it is through God’s mercy rather than our own strength. |
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20th sunday of ordinary time
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Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time August 14, 2022 I was a senior at St. Ambrose College in Davenport, Iowa. Fr. Drake Schaefer was the chaplain. I don’t remember the issue, really, but I do remember his words: “Gary, if you go through life and don’t make any enemies it’s a pretty good indication that you don’t know what you stand for and neither will anyone else.” It’s funny how certain words get seared into your memory and form your soul. I wonder if those words would have brought any consolation to Jeremiah when he was stuck up to his neck in the mud at the bottom of the cistern. He was trying to convince his people that they should surrender Jerusalem to their enemies; that their infidelity to God had consequences. That didn’t go over so well with the Jewish leaders. I wonder if they would have helped the crowd make sense of Jesus' unusual almost-shocking declaration today: Do you think I’ve come to make peace? Not a chance. I came to make division! We have to re |