On the 7^th Sunday of Easter, the First Reading sets us in the midst of Peter and about one hundred and twenty other persons. But while the number of disciples had swelled, we are aware that the number of apostles continued to stand at eleven. With the betrayal of Judas still vividly upon their minds, the head of the Apostles stood and spoke:

My brothers, the Scripture had to be fulfilled which the Holy Spirit spoke beforehand through the mouth of David, concerning Judas, who was the guide for the arrested Jesus. He was numbered among us and was allotted a share in this ministry. For it is written in the Book of Psalms: May another take his office.

After prayer, we are told that Judas called Barsabbas, who was also known as Justus, and Matthias emerged as the “final” contestants.  With lots having been drawn, Matthias finished first. As such, he would occupy the twelfth spot that had once belonged to Judas Iscariot.

In reading this passage, I have often remarked at how different Matthias’ ascendancy was in comparison to some of the more common ascendancies of our time. Today, singers, rappers, sports figures, and billionaires occupy the media spotlight. They do so because our culture has “lifted” them up to notoriety by way of changing opinion and tastes. Once there, we download their Apps and “follow them” on Twitter or Facebook. And when we tire of them?

Dear, please remove that App from my device---and by the way, I won’t be following that has-been any longer.

With God, however, once we are chosen, we are truly Chosen! Before Matthias was elected, we note that the Apostles prayed for His guidance:

You, Lord, who know the hearts of all, show which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this apostolic ministry from which Judas turned away to go to his own place. 

When was the last time you heard the judges on American Idol pray for such resolution?

In our life journey, it is good to ask where we fall on the spectrum; and, in particular, to what do we ascend? Do we live our lives in such a random way as to be swept up by every cultural shift? Or are we constantly in tune to the will of God in our lives, asking His guidance at every step? If it is the latter, like Matthias, we might be surprised at where He will lead us.

How many of you have kept a memento given to you by another person? Whether it be an autograph, birthday card, or letter of encouragement, mementos serve one other special purpose; they continually remind us of the unique role a particular person has within our lives. With Mother's Day upon us, our mothers offer themselves as easy targets. Through their encouragement, they usher us forward in life and provide us with the ultimate memento: the constant knowlege that we are always loved---by them! As Pope Paul VI once said:

Every mother is like Moses. She does not enter the promised land. She prepares a world she will not see.

This past week, a memento of another sort was provided us by the president of the United States; and perhaps also, a world that many mothers would never have envisioned. As reported by numerous media outlets, Mr. Obama became the first president to publicly support "gay" marriage. And as he did so, I carefully observed his language:

I've been going through an evolution on this issue...I've always been adamant that gays and lesbians should be treated fairly and equally...I've just concluded that, for me personally, it is important for me to go ahead and affirm that I think same-sex couples should be able to get married.

Notice the language. While the president's words focus extensively upon his personal feelings, there is scant deference given to outside truth or revelation, with the exception of these words:

I was sensitive to the fact that for a lot of people, the word 'marriage' was something that evokes very powerful traditions, religious beliefs, and so forth.

But with the cameras and reporters now having exited the White House briefing room and the American people having been exposed to an extensive presidential litany of "I's," we were told that "traditional" marriage was finished. For so it had been declared.

Somewhat alarmed by this revelation, yet another insight touched my heart, from the Letter to the Hebrews (10:16):

This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, says the Lord: I will put my laws on their hearts and write them on their minds.

But today, who has time to wrestle with divinely-given and truth-filled mementos that have been written upon our hearts and minds? Rather, let's just make up "truth" as we go along. Yours will be yours and mine will be mine. And while doing so, may we recall the words spoken to us on Ash Wednesday, during the imposition of ashes:

Remember, man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return.

Recently, the FoxNews website published a slideshow entitled, "Stars who lost their mojo." To accomplish that mission, they sought to inform readers of the whereabouts of some famous stars from yesteryear. And while a picture may be worth a thousand words, it is evident that only a few words were needed to document some of their falls from fame--- and youth.

For example, let's use a 1997 image and observation of Brendan Fraser. That year, he played the modern version of Tarzan and lit up Silver screens across the fruited plain. With admiration, the pundits wax:

Fraser was a Hollywood heartthrob and Disney's golden boy when "George of the Jungle" became a smash hit for the studio. Fraser's abs, pecs and flowing mane were the talk of Tinseltown.

But fifteen years later, a new reality unfolds. After locating Brendan in the parking lot of a Los Angeles supermarket, the Paparazzi's work begins. Focus. Flash. Shoot. And with the resulting image now broadcast across the web, media artisans provide a less than favorable report card.

The 43-year-old actor's six-pack is more like a pony keg, and the Tarzan hair has been replaced with a shorter, wispier version.

And with these images and words now seared into our Cerebral cortex, we look to the heavens and proclaim our thankfulness that we are not the ones being held up by the media as "fallen angels." But while avoiding this attention, for some of us, glimpses of our own image may bring a sigh. And questions, too. Where have the years gone? How quickly have the days of our youth passed us by? And still yet, what am I to do with these aches, creaks, and wrinkles?

Is that really me who I see in the mirror?

Indeed, it is! But is that person someone to fear, or rather, someone to whom God has revealed much? Well, now that I've captured your attention, I would like to pose still another question:

If it were possible for you to turn back time and return to the days of your youth, would you?

Now before you respond, I urge you to consider just Who has been walking with you for these past many years. And in doing so, just Who has been forming, urging, prodding, healing, and sanctifying you?

In the Gospel of Luke, after Jesus' return from the temple, it is said that He increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and man. Perhaps the same can be said about us. In walking with Jesus these many years, are we not more loving, empathetic, and understanding?

In walking with, and toward, Jesus, He has transformed us into an even more perfect image than found in the days of our youth. And so, the next time a mirror extends an invitation, be sure to look closely and ask.

Is that me?

You bet.

On April 28th, we celebrated the life of St. Gianna Beretta Molla. At her canonization Mass of 16 May 2004, Blessed John Paul II described her as "a simple, but more than ever, significant messenger of divine love." In doing so, he recalled a letter to her husband that she wrote just days before their marriage:

Love is the most beautiful sentiment the Lord has put into the soul of men and women.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this modern saint, you should know that she was a devoted wife, loving mother, and accomplished physician. Through a short biography, we see St. Gianna's virtue and trust in God:

In September 1961 towards the end of the second month of pregnancy, she was touched by suffering and the mystery of pain; she had developed a fibroma in her uterus. Before the required surgical operation, and conscious of the risk that her continued pregnancy brought, she pleaded with the surgeon to save the life of the child she was carrying, and entrusted herself to prayer and Providence. The life was saved, for which she thanked the Lord. She spent the seven months remaining until the birth of the child in incomparable strength of spirit and unrelenting dedication to her tasks as mother and doctor. She worried that the baby in her womb might be born in pain, and she asked God to prevent that.

A few days before the child was due, although trusting as always in Providence, she was ready to give her life in order to save that of her child: “If you must decide between me and the child, do not hesitate: choose the child - I insist on it. Save him”. On the morning of April 21, 1962, Gianna Emanuela was born. Despite all efforts and treatments to save both of them, on the morning of April 28, amid unspeakable pain and after repeated exclamations of “Jesus, I love you. Jesus, I love you," the mother died. She was 39 years old.

In this patron saint for mothers, physicians, and unborn children, we also see an example of what many parents already feel about their children; namely, that they would give up their own lives in order to provide for their child's welfare. One author, Kimberly Hahn, described this gift as life-giving love. Indeed, as new life comes upon the scene, the parents begin their transformation. For some, they are led from a self-centered lifestyle toward the practice of self-sacrifice. In such a sacrifice, they begin to practice the virtues of making their own life a continual gift to another; in this case, their child. And in doing so, they give up on certain possibilities for their own life, and instead entrust themselves to this new reality for which God has provided. As such, in making this gift of self, they are given ever-deepening insights into the one true and loving Sacrifice that God made when He offered His own Son as reparation for the sins of the world.

In our day, where an increasing minority present children as burdens and shackles to be avoided at all cost, the life of St. Gianna Beretta Molla offers us the anecdote. Jesus said, "Let the children come to me." For we humans, may God's gift of children provide us with a divine lens into eternal truth.

In his Letter to the Magnesians (ca. A.D. 110), St. Ignatius of Antioch wrote:

Take care to do all things in harmony with God, with the bishop presiding in the place of God and with the presbyters in the place of the council of the Apostles, and with the deacons, who are most dear to me, entrusted with the business of Jesus Christ, who was with the Father from the beginning and is at last made manifest.

Some years ago, during a preaching course, a classmate began the proclamation of the Gospel with these words:

Peace be with you.

Now before proceeding, you should know that "practicum" courses such as those designed around preaching, public prayer, and the celebration of the sacraments are meant as "laboratories" whereby professor and fellow students have the opportunity to observe a future deacon proclaim the Gospel, preach, minister at the altar, and celebrate baptisms, weddings, and funerals. To help facilitate the experience, an altar, baby dolls, caskets, and virtually any other object used within a "real" liturgical setting are made available. In the end, the aspiring deacon is critiqued at many levels by the professor and his fellow students. Although constructive and helpful, I must say that, in my mind, I always thought of them as courses in humility (e.g., HUM 101, 102, etc.).

In returning to my classmate's story, he had no sooner uttered the words, "Peace be with you," when the professor stopped him and declared that unless he were a bishop, he should not continue. A bit flustered, he began again.

The Lord be with you.

On this Third Sunday of Easter, we once again encounter the Risen Lord in St. Luke's Gospel (Lk 24:35-48). After "the two disciples recounted what had taken place on the way and how Jesus was made known to them in the breaking of the bread," St. Luke informs us that Jesus stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you." Despite this, those present were said to have been startled and terrified, acting as though they had seen a ghost. As he had for Thomas, Jesus invited them to touch him and see. For, "a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you can see I have."

Last evening, I had the privilege of serving the Confirmation Mass at my parish. At the Greeting, I stood next to the bishop as he proclaimed those awesome words of peace. I truly felt Christ's presence. After the homily, I then held the Sacred Chrism as he conferred the sacrament upon each confirmand: "Be sealed with the Gift of the Holy Spirit." After the celebration of Eucharist, the final blessing was upon us. Quickly, my words flowed:

Bow your heads and pray for God's blessing.

Indeed.

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, the Holy Scriptures present us with many images…

The Psalmist (Ps 132: 22-24) proclaims that:

The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. By the LORD has this been done; it is wonderful in our eyes.

And while building upon this proclamation, the Second reading (1 John 5: 1-6) provides us with further insight into this “rejected” stone:

This is the One who came through water and blood, Jesus Christ, not by water alone, but by water and blood.

The First reading, however, offers us the most interesting contrast with the Gospel. For in Acts of the Apostles (4:32), we are provided with a glimpse of a Christian community that is basking in the light of the Resurrection. And the author reminds us that...

The community of believers was of one heart and mind.

Despite this reality, we are nevertheless presented with a profound skepticism within this familiar Gospel passage from St. John (20:19-31). For contained within it, a conversation ensues between the disciples who have seen Jesus and Thomas, who has not. Boldly, Thomas expresses his unbelief to the others:

Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.

One week later, Thomas is granted his wish.

With the disciples behind locked doors, Jesus appears to them. "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe." Thomas answered and said to him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed."

For each of us, how often has the “Thomas” experience rung true? By our actions or inactions, how many times have we informed the Lord that “if only you do this one thing for me, then I will truly believe?"

This week, as we continue to be surrounded by His Easter love, those are questions worthy of deep pondering within our own heart.

In 1938, a young Spaniard traveled to Japan where he worked as a medic, teacher, and counselor for more than a quarter of a century. One date, however, would forever divide those years: August 6, 1945. For at 8:15 a.m. in the morning, he was tending to his responsibilities in Hiroshima when a single B-29 airplane flew over the city and dropped the bomb that killed nearly 80,000 people and injured at least that many more.

The Spaniard's name was Fr. Pedro Arrupe, S.J. Almost immediately, he began to use his medical skill and compassion to minister to the tragically burned and frightened victims. Although he had nothing to do with the decision to bomb Hiroshima (and Nagasaki), he felt its impact profoundly. For him, that August morning provided an image of a frightened and disfigured world. Years later, as religious leader of the worldwide Society of Jesus (Jesuits), he became known throughout the world as a man of hope, urging each of us to examine the roots of infection that cause such havoc and to tend to the wounds of our world according to our talents and opportunities. (Adapted from Faith and Justice: Living as Christians on a Small Planet, Sr. Margaret Betz, St. Mary's Press, 1980, pp. 54)

At the beginning of his ministry to the Japanese people, I am certain that Fr. Arrupe could not have imagined that which occurred on that August day. Likewise, I am equally convinced that Jesus' disciples could not have imagined the events that would unfold before their eyes on that original Good Friday.

Let us consider the career path of the early disciples. Called from their ordinary lifestyles, they join themselves to Jesus of Nazareth. Day by day, He teaches them, forms them, and performs extraordinary feats in their midst. As Jesus confronts the cynical religious leaders of His time, they are paralyzed by the Truth. The disciples witness this. In small and large crowds, Jesus provides eternal teachings. The disciples witness this. Jesus heals the sick, restores hearing to the deaf, and bestows sight on the blind. He even forgives sin. And the disciples witness this, too! And if we remember, Jesus tells them that the Son of Man will be required to suffer and die. And while this is not what the disciples want to hear, this is precisely what they are treated to on Good Friday.

But unlike Hiroshima, there is not massive death and destruction. Rather, they find themselves on the Via Dolorosa, a dusty road that will end in death, death on a Cross. And they see this God-man who has been beaten and scourged. They see this God-man subjected to the jeers of the crowd that has assembled as though for a parade. In the back of their minds, they remember what Jesus told them:

A disciple is not above his teacher, but every one, when he is fully taught will be like his teacher. (Luke 6:40)

Out of fear, they flee. But for those who stay and follow Jesus to the Cross, they receive the mystery and hope that flows from the One who hung from it. In our lives, the Cross is always before us, as a reminder. In no uncertain terms, St. Paul exhorts us:

For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. (1 Cor 22:24)

Yes, the Cross is always before us. But even in life's disappointments and tragedies, we should be not afraid to join ourselves to it. And, with God's grace, may we carry it bravely. And when we do, we shall find a hope so great that we cannot even describe its joy, for we shall have found Jesus.

In Fr. Arrupe's case, he met fear with hope. And through that hope, he became Jesus' eyes, hands, arms, and feet for the suffering masses. For us, too, we should always ask Jesus how we might join our suffering to His; and, in doing so, also join ourselves to His eternal sacrifice. For even on the darkest of days, in faith, we should remember that every Good Friday is followed by an Easter.

In my ministry, I have been blessed to have encountered what I describe as "veteran" married couples. Often times, these couples have spent untold years sharing and caring not only for each other, but also for their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and, indeed, many others who made it to their doorstep. In their lifetime of loving others, they have become a blessing. It has been said that those who give blessings often receive them. For faithful spouses, one of the blessings received comes from their intimacy with one another. Each spouse has come to know the other so well that they not only understand what the other may be thinking in the present moment, but also have a unique awareness regarding their hopes for the future. To put it simply, they have received the blessing of having a best friend. But in reaching for a more perfect pen, perhaps the American poet, Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff, best sums up the feeling of these spouses for one another:

All paths lead to you, Where e’er I stray, You are the evening star at the end of the day.

On this Fifth Sunday of Lent, however, it is not loving spouses who we find on the scene; but rather, Greek pilgrims who have come to worship at the Passover Feast. But under no circumstances could they have anticipated that their simple inquiry of Philip and Andrew would be of such a profound nature that Jesus would use the opportunity as a pivot-point toward the Passion. If you can’t remember their request, I’ll repeat it once more:

Sir, we would like to see Jesus. (Jn 12:20)

Now scripture scholars have long speculated that these Greek pilgrims approached Philip and Andrew for practical reasons, chief among them that they spoke Greek. In hindsight, one of the early Church Fathers and bishop, Eusebius of Caesarea, informed us that Andrew actually preached the Gospel in the Greek-speaking territory of Asia Minor and the Black Sea region (now Greece, Turkey, and Romania). Although some scholars believe these pilgrims to have been Jewish, others have speculated to the contrary and note that they may have been dignitaries from Ephesus or Antioch. At a deeper level, however, their presence hints at the transition that was occurring from evangelization among the Jews and Samaritans to a Gentile mission that had been underway in the Johannine church. In the end, they provide us with a sign that illuminates the imminent reality that Jesus’ Passion was on the verge of drawing the whole of mankind to Himself.

The first dozen chapters of St. John’s Gospel have come to be known as the Book of Signs and it is within these chapters that Jesus reminds us that His hour is yet to come. However, once we enter into today's Gospel, a simple inquiry invokes a bold response. For just three verses after those words spoken by the Greek pilgrims, “Sir, we would like to see Jesus,” the Lord announces that His hour has come and proceeds to instruct these guests and others present, including both you and me, the way in which we should live our lives. It is this announcement that is most startling:

The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit. (Jn 12:23-24)

We can imagine Jesus holding a seed in His hands and illustrating the mystery of life. After entrusting the seed to fertile soil, the skin encasing it splits open, the seed splits into two and and the stem and root unfurl. Gradually, the seed grows smaller as it nourishes the new plant. Eventually, the seed disappears altogether and a new reality unfolds!

Yes, that tiny seed represents each moment of our lives. From moment to moment, we are called to join ourselves to God's Divine Will and to ask Him to reveal His plan for our lives. Like the Greeks, we should constantly repeat the words: “I want to see Jesus.” For it is Jesus who has given us life. And in giving it to us, He asks that we do something with it. In certain moments, that may mean that we are called to render unto another an act of assistance, kindness, or love. In other moments, that may mean standing up for Jesus in an increasingly secularized culture and demand that Jesus be known. And in still another, it may mean that we wait patiently and quietly, thereby allowing Him to change us from merely one who prays into a prayerful person.

Like the married couples who come to know each other’s thoughts before even one word has been spoken, may our relationship with Jesus Christ, our friend, grow into much more. During these remaining days of Lent, may we journey with Him to the Cross and see in our lives our connection to it. In our desire to see Jesus in every moment of our lives, may we constantly pray that...

All paths lead to you, Where e’er I stray, You are the evening star at the end of the day.

What do Studebaker, Tucker, and DeLorean Motor Company have in common? If you guessed correctly, you would have ascertained that each of these companies once manufactured automobiles. But after a time, market forces rendered their products unnecessary. In short, consumers stopped purchasing them. To use baseball jargon, we might say that they once were, but are now...

Gone, long gone. 

In transitioning from automobiles and baseball to current events, I must admit my sadness during the past several weeks at the media elite's "outrage" over Senator Rick Santorum's positions on hot-button moral issues such as contraception, marriage, and abortion. If we lived in a charitable era, which we don't, their whispers could be heard.

Wow, that guy is really out of touch. 

But of course, night after night, it is not whispers that we hear. Rather, we are treated to the anger, outrage, and vitriol directed at anyone who dares to speak a truth that contradicts our present cultural milieu. For these modern-day prophets, certain words are meant especially for them, starting with bigot and then followed by religious, anti-choice, and right-wing extremist. 

But would that be true? Just prior to his election to the papacy, His Holiness, Pope Benedict XVI, spoke eloquently of evil forces that seek to re-image society. Calling this a dictatorship of relativism, he noted that:

We are building a dictatorship of relativism that does not recognize anything as definitive and whose ultimate goal consists solely of one's ego and desires.

Following this warped philosophy, we throw off the Commandments and the revelation of Christ for our heart's desires. If we desire to have sexual relations with another, then we take a pill. If a baby is conceived from those relations, then we take another pill. And if that doesn't work, we seek out our community's nearest medical professional, who for some reason, desires not to be be known for who he is: the local abortionist. In the end, some might say that these are the byproducts of the good life. But in reality, they represent the outcome of modern society's sorrowful downward twist. And with these byproducts, we come to realize that which we have become: a society that uses human persons in the same way that we use consumer products. To the extent that they provide satisfaction, they remain in our driveways. When they fail, we move on to something new that will satisfy.

In his book, Love and Responsibility, Blessed John Paul II provides a radically different outlook on love. He notes that:

And although the mood out there is gloomy, we Christians must remember that Christ has won the war. As for the battles, however, He is counting on each one of us to speak the truth. And where might we find the truth? Well, I'll let you fathom that one. But, I'll give you my interpretation of our present predicament. Despite the reality that the baseball appears headed for the seats, there is still room for winds of reason to slow its rapid ascent. Regarding how much room? That answer, my friend, is above my pay grade.

During the 1980 Presidential debates, then candidate Ronald Reagan gained political points against President Carter when he insisted that the president was misrepresenting his position. Do you recall that famous line?

There you go again.

Well, a generation and a half later, perhaps that phrase should be re-stated:

Here we go again.

Why so? According to a February 7, 2012 press release from the National Consumer Bankruptcy Association, the next American "debt bomb" will be student loans. Having finished shoveling houses to individuals who could not afford them, in society's infinite wisdom, we have moved on to Biff and Buffy at Moo U to devise yet another bubble scheme. And with those loans now exceeding total credit card debt within the U.S. economy, it appears that many students (and parent co-signers) have opted for the Hollywood version of academia, namely: sprawling big-name college campuses complete with dormitories, student centers serving up lattes 24/7, fraternity and sorority houses that image John Belushi, and athletic facilities that wow the senses. Given all of these amenities, one would think that today's crop of students had, in a proverbial sense, "died and gone to heaven." A far cry from their parent's modest experience of higher education, these lavish accommodations provide one additional benefit: an opportunity to stand in a growing line of recent graduates who are attempting to discharge or restructure their college-debt obligations.

But, O Practical One, is this not a harsh charge to foist upon unknowing students and parents who have bought into this national tragedy? And by the way, what tragedy?

Am I not entitled to Harvard or Princeton despite the reality that my pocketbook indicates that the local college, living at home, and working my way through school may yield the correct calculus?

And perhaps this is the question that should provide seed for our national pondering, especially for an increasing number of Americans who cannot, or rather, have chosen to not recognize the laws of economics that dominate their lives. 

No, not supply and demand. But rather, to borrow from Adam Smith, that we economic actors are called to be rational decision makers. For those of you who are "old fashioned," that would mean that we should exhibit a certain trait or virtue. And that would be? Oh, yes. 

Personal responsibility.

Across this fruited plain, however, it appears that an increasing number of us lack this virtue. Or worse yet, we have never even received this gift from those who have been charged to give it. For those in this latter category, while pondering its consequences, their voices may be heard:

This saying is hard, who can accept it?

In my lectures to students and conversations with others, I have increasingly felt the need to play the prophetic role. Anxiously, I point to the reality that the U.S. national debt now exceeds our GDP and that annual interest on that debt appears the equivalent of a financial tsunami. It is though we have been inserted into a play without knowledge of the next act. And so we continue with our familiar lines.

Recently, a deacon friend, Rev. Mr. Donald Cox, pondered this very topic and noted that Pericles, the ruler of ancient Athens, once gave a speech in 398 B.C. in which he said:

Our nation, this most powerful, wealthy, and dominant people on the face of planet Earth, shall shine on for millennia to come.  

My friend noted that just one year after making that speech, he was dead. And four years after making that speech his nation was gone, completely broke, battered, and ravaged. To directly quote him:

History tells us that many great nations have come and gone before us. Each disappeared by making the exact same mistakes. Each overextended themselves militarily and financially. Each bankrupted their nation through uncontrolled domestic spending. Each experienced internal corruption through the moral decay of their culture. And each gained far too many enemies by their belligerent, aggressive behavior. In our arrogance, are we allowing ourselves to repeat the same mistakes?

And for myself? As I write this, I gaze upon a picture of my grandfather standing proudly before his simple home during the Great Depression. I wonder whether he and others of that generation knew how they got there. But perhaps I am old-fashioned.