November 30th, A Note from Fr. Scott

Recently I was in the supermarket waiting in line to check out when two people in the next line began to converse.  I wasn’t paying too much attention and then I heard “Ham?!  You can’t have ham on Thanksgiving!  You have to have turkey—it’s tradition!”

And then I heard, “Father, tell them it’s tradition to have turkey on Thanksgiving!”

I was a bit startled to be invited into a conversation of which I had not been a part, nor of which I cared to be a part.  All I could think was, “Why am I the expert on Thanksgiving traditions?!”

Traditions are a part of life.  We all have them, although our own traditions may be different from someone else’s.  Many years ago I remember meeting with an engaged couple and we were talking about expectations regarding traditions.  In his family, his mother always put up the Christmas tree and decorated it; in her family, her father always put up the Christmas tree and decorated it.  Naturally, their expectation was that the other would take care of the Christmas tree.  (I’m not sure what they did in the end as a married couple: maybe they never did get a tree!)

Traditions bring an element of comfort, an element of stability, to our lives.  That’s why we have traditions.  They’re familiar; they recall pleasant memories of times past. 

There are, however, times when traditions may change.  While the adjustment to a new way of doing things may not feel quite right in the beginning, eventually we embrace this new way as a tradition.  New traditions probably surface most commonly in young married couples who welcome children into their family.  While they still cling to their old traditions somewhat, they begin to form new traditions with their new family.  Actually it’s usually a blending of the new and the old.  And that’s what ought to happen as we journey through life.

Traditions are not just family-centered, of course.  The Church is filled with traditions that bring a sense of comfort and stability to our lives.  This weekend we begin a new liturgical year with the lighting of the first candle on the Advent wreathe.  Each week the light grows with the addition of another lit candle until we arrive at Christmas and celebrate how Jesus is the light of the world.

Jesus is also the light of our lives, in our lives, leading and guiding us to a deeper relationship with Him.  Jesus, the human face of God, reveals to us the depth of God’s love for us.  Even more than our cherished traditions, it is Jesus Who brings comfort and stability to our lives.  We live in a constantly changing world; traditions help anchor us in what is meaningful (as long as the traditions aren’t sinful, of course).  Even more so does Jesus provide an anchor of meaningfulness and purposefulness in our lives.  And we have such wonderful opportunities to connect with Jesus—through our Eucharistic celebrations (Mass), in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, in our own personal prayer lives, in our response to the needs of others, in our acceptance of another person’s kindness to us.  Jesus is indeed with us, lighting up our lives, bringing comfort and stability to our lives.

To go back to the supermarket: I didn’t really want to take sides in the ham versus turkey debate, so I simply said that whatever one’s preference is, it’s fine.  (Personally, I’ve never cared much for ham, but it’s a valid preference!)

Have a blessed Advent . . .

November 23rd, A Note from Fr. Walt

Viva Cristo Rey – Long Live Christ the King by Fr. Walt…

       Today, on this last Sunday of the Church’s Liturgical year, we celebrate the feast of Christ the King.  At the culmination of this entire liturgical year of our worship, we honor Jesus Christ as the Lord of the Kingdom of Justice, Truth, Love and Peace.  Our idea of the Kingship of Christ is that at the ultimate coming of Christ, it will be to claim this world as his kingdom and invite all who profess belief in Him to join him in heaven.

       In our society today, we don’t think in terms of royalty with all its trappings and regal traditions, though many Americans are fascinated to watch the pageantry that takes place in other countries where monarchs still exist.  Well, there are other stories that tell us of how we honor Christ the King and one in particular is connected to the feast of a 20^th century martyr who became a martyr on this date, November 23^rd, in the year 1927.

       His name was Miguel Pro, a native of Mexico, who became a Jesuit priest.  He received his education and training in Europe where, of course, it was the custom for the clergy to wear the black cassock every day.  He did this religiously, but when he returned to his native Mexico, the country was going through a period of fierce anti-Catholic repression.  The clergy were forbidden to wear any religious garb in public.  If they were found out, they might be arrested by the military police.  Fr. Miguel went along with this restriction though he had become very well known as a priest, celebrating Mass, most often secretly, taking care of the sick and dying and teaching the young people about their faith.

     Naturally, he became a target of the anti-Catholic authorities who would love to have captured him; it would be a feather in their cap if they could silence him.  Miguel was a master of disguises and many times walked even in the presence of the police disguised in some way that they never took a second look at him.  This enabled him to go about the city visiting the sick, bringing Communion, hearing Confessions, anointing the sick and bringing comfort to the bereaved.

       His colleagues warned him that he was taking a great risk in his efforts to carry out his ministry in the presence even of the police; they told him that sooner or later, he would be found out and captured and God only knew what would happen to him.

       Well, the inevitable finally happened.  He was discovered and arrested and thrown into a dark prison cell.  He remained there without being formally charged and left wondering what would happen to him and when.  Without any forewarning, the soldiers came to his cell early in the morning of November 23, 1927.  They dragged him up into a courtyard and stood him in front of a firing squad.  They asked him if he had any last requests and he responded that he would like to pray.  When he finished praying, he stretched out his arms in the shape of a cross and shouted out, “VIVA CRISTO REY” …..LONG LIVE CHRIST THE KING!

       Not long before he was arrested, he wrote a letter to some friends.  He ended the letter with the following message, “Adios, Remember me to all, never forget me, and any time you lack someone for whom to say an “Ave,” know that I shall accept it with the greatest gratitude.”     

 
Fr. Walt Wainwright

November 9th, A Note from Fr. Walt

       There are several hundred churches in the eternal city of Rome.  Among them, of course, is the largest church in Christendom:  St. Peter’s Basilica.  Anyone who has visited the Vatican has stood in awe at the

magnificence of this basilica.  Among the other great churches we call basilicas are the Basilica of St. Mary Major, the Basilica of St. Paul outside the walls and the Basilica of St. John Lateran.

       Today, November 9th, we are celebrating one of those basilicas, the one that is dedicated in honor of St. John the Evangelist, more commonly called the Lateran Basilica.  It may seem unusual to us that the celebration of the Dedication of this Basilica should take

precedence over our regular Sunday Liturgy.  Another aspect that may seem unusual is that the feast has the title of ‘The Dedication of the Basilica of the Savior,’ yet it is the one and the same church dedicated to St. John the Evangelist.  It is only occasionally that this feast falls on a Sunday.  We probably wouldn’t take notice of it when it comes on a weekday.   

        So what gives this feast day such importance?  There are a number of reasons, among them is the fact that this particular church is also the Cathedral Church of the Diocese of Rome.  Every Diocese in the world has a cathedral.  In Our own diocese, it is the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart in Rochester.  In New York City, it is the more famous St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  I am sure that in some remote areas of the world, the cathedral church is a very small church, perhaps due to the poverty of the area of its location.

       The significance of the Basilica of the Savior, or St. John’s Basilica, is precisely because it is a cathedral church.  It is the seat of the Diocese of Rome and consequently it is the mother church for the Roman diocese and Pope Francis is its Bishop.  Read over the texts of the scriptures for today’s feast and you will discover the importance of the cathedral church.

       In the first reading from the Book of Ezekiel, the imagery is very rich in speaking about the flowing water that comes out from the temple, running into the sea; and when the rich pure water reaches the salty water of the sea, it gives life to all the creatures of the sea.  The trees and plants that grow along the banks of the river are watered by the life-giving springs that nourish these plants.  Both the water which gives life and the plants that have healing powers represent the sacramental life of the church that nourishes and heals.  The sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist, Confirmation and Anointing, all give and sustain life.  The sacrament of Reconciliation brings healing to the sinner.

       In the passage from the Letter to the Corinthians, our second reading today, St. Paul reminds us that we ourselves are the temples of the Holy Spirit and the Spirit of God dwells in us.  This tells us that we are not only celebrating a structure in today’s liturgy, but the life-giving Spirit of God that is within us.

       Finally the passage of the Gospel, taken from the Gospel of St. John, gives us the scene where Jesus cleanses the temple in Jerusalem.  The words of Jesus give strong evidence for his love for the Father’s house.  “Take these out of here and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.” 

        Jesus, by his action, is reminding us that every place

of worship is a sacred place and that we should remember this and remind ourselves at the same time, that we are living temples and the Spirit of the Lord dwells within us.

Fr. Walt Wainwright

November 2nd, A note from Fr. Scott

          Not long ago, I read an article written by a woman who said that when she was young she would read all the Reader’s Digest Condensed Books.  It wasn’t until years later that she realized that “condensed” didn’t just mean “shortened”.  The proper people at Reader’s Digest Condensed Books also removed any offensive material, especially language.  She cited as an example William Shakespeare’s classic “MacBeth” in which Lady MacBeth, overwhelmed with guilt, would cry out, “Out, d___ spot!” (taking a cue from the proper people of Reader’s Digest Condensed Books I will let you fill in the blank).  The Reader’s Digest version read, “Out, crimson spot!”

          As the author of the article recalled the Condensed Books I couldn’t help but think of the time (early 70s) when my mother read the condensed version of Erich Segal’s “Love Story”.  It was a rather sad and moving story and her reading of it made her want to see the movie, so she went with her sisters.  Of course, the original book was rife with vulgarities and the movie followed suit, much to my mother’s dismay: she would have preferred the cleaned-up condensed version.

          I thought of that article while I was on my annual retreat last week.  I go to Stella Maris Retreat Center in Skaneateles, NY, and take part in a silent directed retreat.  Silence is kept except for participation at daily Mass and a daily meeting with one’s director for about 45 minutes.  The rest of the time is spent praying, sleeping, eating, reading, and going for walks around the neighborhood.  (If it sounds like a vacation, it’s not.  Deep prayer is hard work.)  It happened to be a rainy week, so walking around the neighborhood involved avoiding raindrops and negotiating wet sidewalks. 

          One day I went for a lengthy walk up and down the small inclines strewn throughout the area.  As I started down a small incline, I must have been deep in thought, for I didn’t notice that part of the sidewalk was slate or shale or something of that nature—petrology/geology is not my strong suit.  At any rate, whatever it was, it was extremely slippery when wet!  My foot slipped, I lost my balance and subsequently fell to the ground.  (When one is 60ish, falling is not a pretty picture.  I admit I lack the grace of a ballet dancer—or even someone on “Dancing with the Stars”.)  I didn’t fall on my backside, thank goodness, or even face-first—also thank goodness.  I fell on my left knee, twisting my toes in an odd way to prevent further descent, leading to some limping for a few days.  But all in all, my pants took the worst of it, especially around the left knee area: dirt and what looked like black soot.  I decided I would just let it dry and wash it when I got back to Elmira.

          After returning home, I sprayed the pants with “Oxi Clean”, let it soak in for a while, echoed Lady MacBeth’s “Out, d___ spot!”, and then threw them in the washer.  They came out less than clean.  The stains remain.  I don’t know what was on that wet sidewalk, but it was like indelible marker.

          While my pants will no doubt forever be stained, fortunately the Catholic Christian life reminds us that no matter what sins may stain our immortal soul, God is the great stain remover—as long as we acknowledge our sinfulness, ask for forgiveness, and are truly sorry, there is nothing God won’t forgive.

          Years ago I remember reading a spiritual writer who said he tried every religion the world over before he decided which one he would embrace.  He became Catholic, because, he said, it’s the most forgiving of all faith traditions.

          It’s not really a faith tradition that’s forgiving; it’s God that’s forgiving—the Holy Spirit has clearly revealed that to the Church—because God wants to free us from the burdens that sin places on our hearts.  Even if the head denies sinfulness, the heart knows and sin leads to a restlessness of spirit within us.  Such restlessness can stain us for life (we all know people who never seem at peace), unless we turn to God, the great stain (of sin) remover.

          Have a blessed . . . and God-filled . . . week . . .

November 16th, A note from Fr. Scott

          Years ago I realized that no one does anything without a reason.  We don’t always like to admit our motivation—sometimes we aren’t even sure what our motivation is—but there is a reason for doing what we do.

          I watch “Revenge”.  Or to be more accurate, I DVR “Revenge” and watch it at some later time.

          It’s not my usual preference in television programming.  Just the title goes against most everything in which I believe.  There’s no room for “revenge” in Catholic Christianity if we understand the Gospel correctly.  The acting in the show is less than riveting; the plot lines strain credibility to the max; there is probably one likable character in the whole menagerie (who isn’t even the centerpiece of the show).  It seems preposterous to me that it’s in its 4^th season on television.

          So why do I watch?

          For one simple reason: I know one of the screenwriters.

          Or I did know one of the screenwriters some years ago.

          His name is Joe and he was a student at Ithaca College.  He had a difficult time the first month away from home—homesickness affects many a student in the beginning, but he toughed it out and did very well.  Early on he became part of the Catholic community and we hired him to work in the Catholic offices at Muller Chapel. 

          Joe was bright, had a great sense of humor, was a terrific worker, and loved all things entertainment: movies, music and television.  I don’t remember the exact title of his major, but it had to do with television.  Joe watched a lot of TV growing up—I was amazed at how many television theme songs he knew by heart!  He also had a wonderfully compassionate heart (something missing from the characters on “Revenge”).  He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do in television, but his dream was to work in television.  I remember him telling me one time that one of his professors suggested he pursue screenwriting. 

          When he first went to LA, he got a job working with the crew on the long-running show “ER”.  He never wanted to be an actor; he wanted to work behind the scenes, although one time “ER” used him as an extra in a scene.  And then came “Revenge”.  A friend told me that Joe was writing for the show, so I started to watch in the second season.  I’m not sure how the writing works because different people get credit for different segments.  Somehow they must work together plot-wise, although the strained plotlines might suggest lack of communication.

          Anyway, Joe is the reason I watch “Revenge”.  It takes me back to my years at Ithaca College.  I never wanted to go there as a chaplain and yet it turned out to be a great experience.  I loved working with young adults, so filled with hope and determination, questions and compassion.  I had a great rapport with the other Catholic Chaplain, Mary.  Those were good years.

          But I wouldn’t want to go back.  Because we can’t recapture the past.  We can learn from the past and we can be inspired by the past, but we can’t recapture it.  We can only go forward.  Jesus once said, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.”  In other words, if you are plowing a field and keep looking behind, you’ll never keep to a straight path; you’ll go off course.  We follow Jesus Who leads from the front, not from the back. 

          Nostalgia has its place, but we’re doomed to failure if we try to recapture the past.  We can only go forward.  While the past may look a lot better than the present in some ways, that doesn’t mean the future can’t be bright.  With eyes and ears and minds and hearts set on Jesus ahead of us, we can only be people of hope.  With eyes and ears and minds and hearts set on Jesus, revenge truly makes no sense.  With eyes and ears and minds and hearts set on Jesus, our motivation will be positive—and incidentally, we’ll be going in the best direction possible.

          Have a blessed week . . .

October 26th, A note from Fr. Scott

          As I drive around the area I frequently listen to the radio (except for during Lent when I give up listening to the radio as an act of self-sacrifice).  While my car radio has the capacity to program 18 different radio channels, basically I listen to 6.  (The other twelve I programmed long ago when I travelled a bit more and they are tuned to radio stations whose signals do not reach the Elmira area.  Also long ago I forgot how to program the radio which is the real reason the stations remain as they are—yes, I could probably figure out how to do it again, but 6 is actually enough, especially since I also have a CD option.)

          5 of the stations are tuned to various music genres.  2 are oldies stations (yes, I am of that era), 2 are contemporary pop/soft rock, 1 is country, and the 6^th is tuned to a talk radio station.  Clearly music is my preference as I like to sing (while I appreciate classical music, I can’t sing to it so it doesn’t make my regular play-list).

          Quite frankly I abhor talk radio in general, mostly because my (limited) experience has been that of exaggerated opinion, whether it’s sports or politics or conservative vs. liberal viewpoints.  Opinions are fine, I suppose, but I prefer non-biased facts to opinions, which are rarely balanced.  I see little value in blustery opinions that tear others down in order to “prove” their point.  (I equally abhor political attack ads on television—we’ve sunk very low on the maturity scale when our main message is to point out others’ faults instead of presenting viable plans for a better future.  But I will admit, that’s just my opinion.  Others may think differently.)

          The talk radio station to which I do listen is the Catholic Station, called the “Station of the Cross”.  I’m not even sure where it is on my radio dial, only that it’s programmed between an oldies station and a contemporary pop/soft rock station.  I catch bits and pieces as I drive around.  I know the station broadcasts Mass at 8:00 am and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy at 3:00 pm, and at some point on the weekend does offer some contemporary Christian music, but what I really like are the call-in shows during which people ask for clarification about Church teaching or ask for ways to deal with family problems.  The hosts of the program as well as the guest experts offer solid information that can be both enlightening and supportive of our faith tradition.  I like the pastoral approach that seems to be a common thread throughout.  The news presented on the station also reflects things Catholic.

          For those who haven’t discovered the “Station of the Cross”, you might like to try listening sometime.  Not every program offered will capture your attention in the same way, but it’s nice to know we have a resource on local radio that can help us live out our Catholic faith—and our baptismal call.  Baptism begins a journey for us all, a journey of deepening our relationship with God through our own prayer life and the wisdom of the Church, a journey of continuing discovery of all the ways God loves and enlightens us. 

          Have a blessed week . . .

October 19th, A note from Fr. Scott

          It’s happened again.

          The best teams in baseball didn’t make it to the World Series.  (When I was growing up, baseball was the national pastime and there were no play-offs, just the World Series involving the winningest team in each league.  Today, every sport has multiple team and lengthy play-offs primarily because of the economic benefit.) 

          The American League Los Angeles Angels had the most wins of any team in baseball during the regular season, but they were quickly eliminated by a wild-card team, the Kansas City Royals (kudos to them as they hadn’t made the playoffs since before most of the team members were born).  The Washington Nationals had the best record in the National League, closely followed by the Los Angeles Dodgers.  Neither survived their first play-off round, losing to the San Francisco Giants and the St. Louis Cardinals respectively.

          It hardly seems fair.

          But isn’t that why we like our sports so much?  The so-called “best” don’t always win.  There’s great excitement about David defeating Goliath in our modern sports.  Media headlines often use words like “Stunned” or “Shocked”, but that smacks of sensationalism in our world of competitive sports.  Upsets happen all the time.  We ought to be surprised only when there are no upsets.  (Nearly 100 years ago, the great thoroughbred race horse, Man O’ War lost one race—appropriately to a horse named Upset.)

          If we don’t take our sports too seriously (seeing them as an end in and of themselves), there are great life lessons to be learned from sports.  Teamwork, dedication, learning that losing/failure isn’t the end, sportsmanship—all great lessons in life.  Another one of those life lessons is to expect the unexpected. 

          In my life I’ve learned through various means that God is a God of the unexpected.  God is a God of surprises.  In sports we pride ourselves on anticipating what our opponent is going to do before they do it.  That’s key if we are to be victorious.  Unfortunately, we sometimes think of God in the same way: as an opponent whose ways we must anticipate.  We think we know God and what God asks of us.  When young, we are taught to keep the ten commandments; that’s what God wants.  And we know that if we mess up, God is ready to punish us in some way.  That’s what we know about God.

But is that all there is to God?  I don’t think so.

I must admit that I don’t remember anyone ever using the word “fun” in relation to God.  In fact, my youthful recollection is that God didn’t really approve of fun; God was more of a buzzkill (I hope I’m using that word correctly!) when it came to fun. 

          Imagine my surprise when I realized that God has no problem with “fun”, although I suppose it depends on our definition of “fun”.  If “fun” has to include disrespect or harming others (or the self) or the need to be superior or if it involves immoral or sinful behavior, then God no doubt has objections.  If “fun” is the goal of life, then God no doubt has objections.  However, God has no problem with leisure activity that we enjoy and that re-energizes us.  That’s a basic human need (not just for kids), although I suppose many of us have a tendency to go overboard about it.

          Just to be clear: God never wants to be our “opponent”, our “adversary” (the word “satan” actually means adversary and God is the opposite of that).  God wants to be on our team, on our side.  If God isn’t, it’s not God’s choice; it’s ours.   

          God can surprise us in many ways: by giving us the grace to forgive others and let go of grudges; by giving us the grace to refocus on the values that truly matter in life; by giving us the grace to handle adversity; by teaching us that winning is not the most important thing in life; by teaching us to love God with our whole being and our neighbor as ourselves.  There are other surprises, none of which happen in the purely human realm.

          And one more thing: while God is on our team, God is also on every other team.  God wants the best for everyone.  Maybe that surprises us also!

          Have a blessed . . . and surprising . . . week . . . 

October 12th, A note from Fr. Scott

          On a recent morning my car radio reported a story of a group of young people who had stolen a statue of Jesus from a Catholic church somewhere in Oklahoma.  There was a video from the church surveillance camera showing two cars pulling up, 5 persons getting out (apparently teen-agers), and then stealing the statue from the garden, getting back in their vehicles and departing.

          This wasn’t just a free-standing statue, stolen as a result of a night of over-indulgence; it was a corpus of Jesus on the cross.  The crime was clearly pre-meditated as they had tools to pry the body off the cross.

          My first reaction was anger: how could anyone do such a thing!?  Is nothing sacred?!  It’s a direct affront to Catholicism and religious faith in general!  Punishment is required!

          Then I calmed down a bit. 

My second reaction was to feel sorry for the perpetrators of the crime.  What kind of values do these young people have?  Do they have any moral values at all?  Are they so unhappy in their lives that they have to try and hurt others with their mischief?  It must be difficult to go through life without being centered in Someone Who gives meaning and purpose to life.

Then I calmed a bit more.

My third reaction was to wonder if the individuals didn’t mean to be hurtful as much as funny.  Young people sometimes are fond of pranks and the reaction they elicit.  (Older people are sometimes fond of pranks and the reaction they elicit.)  I can remember being young (quite some time ago) and what I laughed at then isn’t what I laugh at now.  I prefer to hope that I’ve matured somewhat in my outlook and now realize that many forms of “funny” are actually hurtful.  Still, it took time to reach that realization.

As it turned out, some days later the corpus was returned to the church, apparently a college prank more than anything.  The church community, happy to get the corpus backed, declined to press charges, although the college may deal with the students internally.  I applaud the church for their willingness to forgive—forgiveness is always the right course of action, never out of style; but I’m not opposed to the college meting out some form of chastisement—everyone needs to learn there are consequences to their actions; we do have an effect (positive or negative) on others whether we want to or not.  It’s the reality of life.

I do have to say that my initial reaction bothers me a bit.  While I know that anger and the desire to retaliate are normal human reactions to being hurt or offended (it wasn’t even a directed hurt toward me, though I felt my beliefs were attacked), I also know that turning those emotions into action is wrong.  As someone once said, “If we live by the motto ‘an eye for an eye’, soon the whole world will be blind.”  (Jesus had something to say about that!)  Fortunately, the grace of God can stop us from taking that next step.   

The next step ought to be a sense of compassion for those who don’t have a relationship with our God, Who so beautifully revealed Himself in His Son, Jesus the Christ.  It seems to me that any act of hurtfulness or violence comes from a person who is very unhappy in their lives.  (Contented people never wish harm on anyone else.)  The Source of true happiness is God—Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  Not that we achieve perfect happiness in this life, but we get glimpses of it through our relationship with God, sort of a sneak preview of heaven!

We can’t force others to believe, but we can be a voice of evangelization by the way we live and react to life.  When we model Jesus for others, we help to plant seeds that may one day grow.  When we pray for those who hurt us, we plant seeds.  What happens to the seeds depends on the person’s free will choices as well as God’s grace.  We have no control over that, but we do have control over our own actions and reactions.  We can make no better choice than the choice to be Christ for one another, even when—especially when—we don’t feel like it.

Have a blessed . . . and Christ-like . . . week!

October 5th, A note from Fr. Scott

          “I shot an unbelievable 69!”

          That would have been my response if anyone had inquired about my last golfing venture.  No lie.  I shot a 69.

          Unfortunately, it was for 9 holes.

          To be fair to myself, I don’t golf very often.  Maybe 5 times a year, if that.  I go with my Priest Support Group.  We’ve been together for over 25 years—meeting once a month—and when the weather is decent we play golf.  I haven’t gotten any better over the years although the 69 was pretty bad even for me.

          Golf is a frustrating game.  Sometimes I’ll hit a good shot, maybe even a few in a row.  And then I always think, “I’m getting the hang of this”, only to duff the next few shots.  It’s a pattern that repeats itself pretty much every time I play.  I have no idea why I think I’ll do better next time, unless it’s because I’m a person of hope (even pessimistic people have hope apparently).  But I never do seem to improve.

          Of course, there’s an obvious solution to my golfing woes: I could practice or play a lot more.  However, I know that’s not going to happen.  If I was retired, maybe, or if I developed a great passion for the sport, maybe, but I can’t or won’t spend the extra hours in order to get better.  (And it would take lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of hours to get me to a satisfactory better.)  Hey, it’s OK.  A little public humiliation can do wonders for one’s humility. 

          In order to reach proficiency in anything, one must be willing to spend the time and the energy (and maybe the money) required for improvement.  That’s true of most every area of life (golf included).  One may have natural ability in a particular area, but without proper practice, without learning proper technique, potential is never reached. 

          That’s also true in our lives as Catholics.  Living the Catholic life requires that we put some time and energy forth (money is less important, since one doesn’t need proper equipment or expensive lessons to live out our Catholic identity).  Our relationship with God through Jesus in the power of the Holy Spirit doesn’t automatically deepen as time goes by.  We have to “practice” by taking time for prayer, by taking time to learn, and by responding to the needs of others around us.  In so doing, we “get better” at living out what it means to be a Catholic.

          I’m not saying that God demands or even expects us to devote hours and hours of prayer and learning and practice every week to living out our Catholic call.  But I am saying God expects some time on a regular basis.  If we think about our week and the amount of time we spend on various activities, where does prayer fall?  Where does learning about God and the faith fall?  How about volunteer or outreach efforts to others?  Of course, we need to work or go to school; we need to eat and sleep.  But how much time do we spend watching TV or sitting in front of the computer or cleaning or giving our attention to music or engaged in a sporting activity or spending leisure time with family or friends?  Of course, none of that is necessarily bad—but it’s not all good if it prevents us from deepening our life as disciples of Jesus (by virtue of baptism we are all disciples).

          I’m fairly certain that I’ll never put in the time and energy required to be a decent golfer, but I always hope that I’ll put in the time and energy required to be a decent disciple.

          Have a blessed week . . .

September 28th, A note from Fr. Scott

Recently my phone rang.  I answered it and on the other end was a telemarketer, trying to convince me to buy some kind of movie package for my TV.  It was described as a great deal, unlimited movies (that were not the ones found on HBO and the other pay-channels) for one low price (I can’t remember the quoted price but I think it was near $30).  This was a special offer for a monthly trial, which, I think, means the price goes up considerably the second month.

          After the spiel, the last line was, “So can I sign you up for the month?”  I do try to be polite to telemarketers because I know their job isn’t easy and I believe they are often treated rudely on the phone, so I tried to frame my answer softly: “No, I really don’t have much time to watch movies, so it wouldn’t be worth it to me.”  Then I realized the telemarketer had hung up on me immediately after the word “No”.  There was no “All right, thank you for your time” or “Maybe another time” or “Have a nice day”.  There was no goodbye.  Just a rude hang-up (at least that’s how I received it).

          The next day, I was walking out of a grocery store with my mother and was maneuvering around behind a car when the driver honked his horn.  Horns tend to be loud and both my mother and I were startled by the unexpected loud noise.  As we walked a few more feet, the driver of the car saw us and apologized profusely for startling us.  The driver was trying to get someone’s attention and didn’t know we were there.  I was most impressed by the caring reaction of the driver.  No hint of rudeness whatsoever, just sincere concern. 

          As an occasional recipient of rude behavior (aren’t we all?), I admit that rude behavior leaves a negative feeling inside me—rudeness implies that I don’t matter as a person and that’s not a pleasant feeling.  It can affect the rest of my day.  The opposite happens when someone treats me like I matter.  I experience a pleasantly good feeling which I think affects the rest of my day.

I’m not sure why it’s so difficult for people to say “Excuse me” or “I’m sorry” or even a simple “Thank you”.  It seems to me that that takes less energy than ignoring another person or being deliberately negative toward them.  Growing up, I had the idea that men were supposedly ruder than women (who were more sensitive), although I’m not sure that’s exactly the case today.  The telemarketer I encountered was a woman; the driver a young man. 

Somehow I don’t think there is any room for rudeness in Christianity.  That doesn’t mean we act wimpy and let others walk all over us.  Jesus certainly confronted people who taught others misunderstandings about God, but characteristically Jesus wasn’t what we might call negative. He brought the Good News of salvation to many (no, not everyone always listened to Him); He gave second chances; He ate with sinners; He treated others with respect unless (until) they were leading others astray (then in a chastening way, He spoke up and spoke out about the dangers of such sin).

Rudeness flows from an “I”-centered existence.  (“I” am more important than anyone else; “MY” way is better than anyone else’s way.)  That is not, of course, what our faith teaches us—and if we think it does, we’re misunderstanding both the faith and God.

I realize we are all victims of rudeness on occasion, but that doesn’t give us the right to act the same toward others.  If we react in kind, then we’ve become the perpetrators.  The grace of God gives us the ability to make better choices.

Have a blessed week . . .

September 21st, A note from Fr. Scott

Last week I attended a funeral.  He was 17, diagnosed with leukemia less than one month before he died.  I saw his mother shortly before the Mass and just gave her a wordless hug.  She simply said, “There are no words.”

          No, there aren’t any words at a moment like that, at least no words that make any sense.  And yet we desperately want words that make sense, that bring some sort of comfort to those moments of intense grief.  But such words are not to be found.

          Two days after I attended that funeral, the Church celebrated the Feast of Our Mother of Sorrows.  There are two possible Gospels for that day.  One selection is from the infancy narratives in the Gospel of Luke where Simeon holds the child, Jesus, and tells Mary “and you yourself a sword will pierce”.  One wonders if she had any idea of what that meant.  Clearly she must have remembered it or it would never have been recorded in Scripture.

          The second Gospel is from John and takes place at the foot of the cross.  Standing there are Mary and the beloved disciple.  Near death, Jesus gives to the beloved disciple Mary, and to Mary the beloved disciple.  And then Mary witnesses the painful death of her Son.

          For most of us there is a tendency to associate suffering with sin.  One suffers because of sin.  If we can’t recall anything in particular we ask the question, “What did I do wrong?”  And while it’s true that sin often results in suffering (sin upsets the balance God creates for our world), we are mistaken if we think all suffering is a result of sin.  We have only to think of Mary to realize that.  In spite of her sinlessness, she knew grief.

          Suffering, grief and loss are part of human life.  I don’t know why it has to be that way, only that it is that way.  Maybe it’s God way of prompting us to think of the promise of eternal life.  We may want heaven on earth, but that’s not possible.  Heaven is our term for eternal happiness.  Oh, we catch glimpses of happiness here on earth: when we experience forgiving love, when we serve one another, when we follow God’s will and our heart realizes it, when God gifts us with a graced moment.  All amazing and wonderful, but not everlasting.  Interspersed is suffering and sorrow.

          In the midst of it all, we’ve been given the gift of faith which helps us endure the painful moments of life.  Faith isn’t meant to eliminate the experience of grief in our lives, but it does help us cope.  Personally, I don’t believe God gives faith to some and not to others; I believe we all have the capacity for faith.  It’s true that not everyone taps into their capacity for faith and perhaps some have never had much of an opportunity, but no one is without the potential. 

          Maybe it’s part of God’s plan to work through us in the lives of others when it comes to faith.  If people witness our faith even in the midst of hardship and pain, suffering and grief, it may stir something within them that leads them to God.  We may never know the effect our faith has on someone else, but we don’t have to know.  God will let us know if we need to know—maybe we’ll find it all out in the next life.

          But then again, it probably doesn’t matter.

          What does matter is how we live out our faith in the present.

          Have a blessed week . . .

September 14th, A note from Fr. Scott

At a recent family gathering, someone mentioned the old TV show “My Three Sons” (I have two brothers and no sisters); the unlikely follow-up question was “What was the name of the dog on the show”?  Of course, no one could remember.  Out came a smart phone and within a matter of seconds we had the information and everyone nodded and said, “Oh, that’s right!  I remember now!”

          TIME magazine recently released an issue with the headline “The Answers Issue: everything you never knew you needed to know”.  It began with an article about the information explosion that now influences our lives.  The demand for maps or travel agents or encyclopedias has diminished, replaced by GPSs, the internet, and Wikipedia.  The article did point out some dangers of this new information age, but insisted our quality of life can be enhanced by what we can now know.

          The magazine then asked and answered multiple questions: What is the most patriotic color?  (Red, the most common color in national flags)  Where do designer dogs come from?  (Deliberate cross-breeding; I now know that actor Jeremy Irons owns a Labradoodle, a cross between a Labrador Retriever and a Poodle)  Are there any safe places left to live (regarding the least likelihood of natural disasters)?  (Areas of Montana and Idaho are your best bets)  They even offered a quiz: “Are you smarter than a teen-ager?”  (I failed miserably, although in my defense it’s been nearly 40 years since I bid adieu to my chronological teen years and more than 25 since I said good-bye to my psychological teen years.)

          The issue even analyzed the U. S. population according to income level.  I was actually surprised to find that the percentage of “very happy” people was highest in those with the highest incomes and lowest in those with the lowest incomes.  Maybe money does buy happiness, although I think not.  It makes me wonder how we define happiness.  Is happiness defined by having what we want?  Personally, I think of that as pleasure, not happiness.  Happiness to me is an inner contentment that reflects our right-relationship with God.  Not surprisingly, the article said nothing about God or faith or religion or morality, but I suppose those topics are not exactly information based or fact based and the article wasn’t geared in that direction.  Still, the questions it posed have far less to do with the quality of life than do questions about God and faith and religion and morality.  If we think sinful lives are happy lives we are only deluding ourselves.     

          This weekend the Church celebrates “The Exaltation of the Holy Cross” (replacing the 24^th Sunday in Ordinary Time).  The cross, of course, represents the suffering of Jesus.  We talk about “carrying our crosses” and by that we refer to burdens that are difficult.  Logically, the cross doesn’t suggest happiness, and yet our faith reminds us that without the cross there is no resurrection.  When Jesus willingly accepted the cross (and the suffering and death to which it led), He became a model for us: we, too, must accept the crosses that come our way by living our faith in a secular world.  The world consistently tells us to reject the cross in favor of easier paths, but our faith teaches us that’s not the way to happiness.

          It’s nice to be able to know things in a matter of seconds, but that won’t fulfill our destiny as children of God.  Making the choice to live our faith each day will.

          By the way, the dog’s name on “My Three Sons” was Tramp.

          Have a blessed week . . .     

September 7th, A note from Donna Bennett

Dear friends,

            I hope your summer vacation was a time  of rest, relaxation, and regrouping as a family.    As September approaches, not only will school start, but also Faith Formation will begin on          September 14^th.  In preparing for all the new     beginnings, let us take time to reflect on what role we as individuals play in passing on our faith to our children and each other.

             As a parent and grandparent myself, I know the stresses that come with these titles.  We want our children to live in a healthy, holy, and happy household.  Ways that we achieve this are by serving wholesome food, making sure they get exercise, and to see to it that they become good learners.

            As parents and grandparents, we lead by example.  We all know that parents are the primary educators of their children.  We, as ministerial staff, support what has already begun at home.  Yet our faith formation challenge remains the same:  to bring Jesus into the lives of our children.  We are also aware of conflicts with sports, dance, skiing, and other programs.

            That’s why we have provided you and your family with three options of Faith Formation opportunities that could work around your hectic schedules.  We will have our traditional Sunday morning program 8:45-10AM, Monday evening program 6-7:15PM and our Family Education session will continue once a month for a two hour session.  If you need a registration form, please call our office at 733-3484, and we will mail one out to you.

            The Diocese has a few new changes to our Sacramental programs.  First of all, the sacrament of Penance will precede the Sacrament of First Eucharist.  So any child who is planning to receive First Eucharist in the spring should plan to receive First Penance this fall.  Any children in second grade or higher should also be receiving First Penance this fall if they have not done so yet.  All notices of Sacramental Preparation meetings and classes will be primarily through the church bulletin.  Our first Sacramental parent meeting will be September 24^th at 7PM at the Faith Formation Center for First Penance.

            We are here to serve you.  If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to contact us.

God Bless,

Donna Bennett

Coordinator for Faith Formation for Children

August 31st, A note from Fr. Scott

          Our summer season is coming to a close.  Most colleges are back in session and local pre-college students will return to the hallowed halls of academic learning this week.  As the amount of daylight decreases, we bid adieu to vacation time and welcome the routine of autumn.  (Well, maybe “welcome” isn’t the word everyone would use—I’m more inclined to use the word “tolerate”.)

          Elmira also sadly bids adieu to the good Sisters of the Dominican Monastery; they have been a presence in Elmira for about 70 years.  As much as we hate to see them go, the leaving must be more difficult for them.  It’s never easy to leave behind friends and the familiar in order to enter a new phase of life.  Adjustments are challenging to say the least.

          Their chaplain, Fr. Tony Breen, will also be leaving Elmira.  Fr. Tony has been a great help in the area—Elmira, Horseheads, Corning, Painted Post and no doubt elsewhere.  He has presided at weekend Masses, weekday Masses, funerals, and Masses at Skilled Nursing Facilities and Senior residences.  He has helped with Confessions and Communal Penance Services and served as the Chaplain to the local chapter of the Knights of Columbus.  He has shared time with the area priests and parishioners and we have all benefited from his friendship and wisdom.

          Good-byes are not easy.

          However, they are part of life.  We’ve all experienced them in various ways.  Whether it’s a loved one who has passed from this life or a family member or friend who moves away, we dread the adjustment required to a life without them.  Sometimes we are the ones who move away.  Learning to let go is challenging and painful, and most of us are at least a little resistant (maybe a lot resistant).  There’s no tried and true formula for making grieving easy—it’s different for each person.  But we must work through it; otherwise we remain in a state of grief for the rest of our lives and that prevents us from experiencing the joys that life offers us.  

          It was back in 1969 that Elisabeth Kubler-Ross published On Death and Dying, the landmark book that has helped us understand the emotions attached to loss.  Dr. Kubler-Ross identified the stages associated with grieving: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and, finally, acceptance.  While we commonly associate the stages with physical dying, they apply to any impending loss in our lives.  (There is no particular order that a person follows in dealing with the stages.) 

          Some of us have moved a fair amount in our lives; others have pretty much remained in Elmira all lifelong.  But no one has been exempt from good-byes.  I learned through my own journeying that some people are life-long friends; others are very good friends for a period of time—then life circumstances enter and contact ceases.  In a way that’s sad, of course, but also natural.  Humans have a tendency to want to hold on to friendships forever, but that’s not the way it’s meant to be.  We don’t have the time or the energy to keep in close contact with all the people who’ve made a difference in our lives.  Maybe that desire for forever is something that God plants within us so that we grasp the reality of God’s promise of eternal life. 

          Letting go is painful, but it’s not bad.  Unpleasant, yes, but not bad.  Sin is “bad”; that which leads us away from God is “bad”.  Pain itself is not sinful nor does it lead us away from God.  In fact, it can lead us (if we so choose) toward God as we realize how finite we are in our physical being.  We are more than body; we are soul, created in the image and likeness of God.  God is ever calling us to union with Him in the hereafter.

          While grief is necessary as we say “Good-bye” to our friends at the Dominican Monastery, an attitude of thanksgiving for their presence these many years will serve us much better than dwelling on the sadness evoked.

          Have a blessed . . . and thankful . . . week . . .

August 24th, A note from Fr. Scott

        “He’s the most selfish man in the world.”

        So said one man to another as they walked by me.  They were going in the opposite direction so I never did find out the particulars.  Who is “he”?  Why is “he” considered so selfish?  Why were they even talking about “him”?

        I did wonder about the “in the world” part.  Out of nearly seven billion people, “he” was the most selfish?  That’s a lot of people! 

        Of course, the gentleman speaking—maybe I use the word “gentleman” loosely because a real gentleman probably wouldn’t utter such a phrase—was no doubt using that time honored principle of exaggeration to make a point.  I suppose we all do that at one time or another.  Jesus no doubt used a bit of exaggeration in his parables because that was (and is) a way to make a point.  As a human race we seem to have come to the conclusion that “ordinary” is not enough.  We want more; we want flashy; we want spectacular.  So we like restaurants that give us more; we patronize movies that rely on special effects; TV shows must “push the envelope” (bad taste or not); politicians make promises they could never keep; amusement parks and extreme sports must have an element of danger or at least adventure.  “Ordinary” doesn’t make headlines. 

        We sometimes think that God can only be found in the extra-ordinary.  Not true at all.  While God can be extra-ordinary at times, most of the time God is found in the ordinary.  The Gospels contain a lot of information about Jesus, but if His public ministry was three years (or even one year), there’s a lot missing.  And I would guess there were a lot of “ordinary” encounters with people who found the “ordinary” very meaningful and fulfilling. 

        Selfishness, however, is not very meaningful or fulfilling (at least beyond the moment).  I don’t know who the most selfish person in the world is, but most of us probably think we know a candidate or two.  Sometimes I think I’m in the running for the title!  But then I come back to Jesus; I come back to Scripture; I come back to the collected wisdom of the Church and remind myself that I wasn’t created to be self-centered.  I was created to be God-centered and other-centered.  That doesn’t mean that I’m not supposed to take care of myself.  If I don’t eat well, sleep enough, get some exercise, challenge my brain, and find ways to de-stress at times, I won’t be healthy enough to be God-centered and other-centered.  That’s true for all of us.

        Have a healthy, God- and other-centered week . . .

August 17th, A note from Fr. Scott

          I’ve always been amused at the sight of dogs traveling in cars.  I mean the ones who stick their heads out the window and feel the rush of the wind on their faces—especially the ones with long floppy ears blowing in the breeze.  They look like they’re ready to take-off and be air-borne.  (They remind me of Sr. Bertrille, a/k/a “The Flying Nun”, from the 60s television show “The Flying Nun” starring a young Sally Field.  For those too young to recall, Sr. Bertrille could fly when the wind was strong enough—which was every episode—due to her light weight and the aero-dynamic shape of the head-gear that was part of the nun’s habit.  Ludicrous, yes, but entertaining nonetheless.)

          Anyway, I recently was driving near Elmira College when I saw a dog in a baby carriage.  This was not a small dog.  This was a full size black lab, who could barely fit in the baby carriage.  In fact, most of the dog was visible from my driver’s seat with only the posterior of the dog hidden from view.  The dog was sitting, looking most uncomfortable, which made me wonder why such a large dog was in a baby carriage?

          I didn’t stop to ask, but the unusual sight stayed with me.  Maybe the dog was injured and was getting a free ride?  Maybe the dog was the jealous type and wanted the attention babies get in baby carriages?  Who knows?

          I did, however, finally arrived at an explanation that seems logical to me.  Perhaps the dog rode in the carriage as a puppy and for some reason liked the experience.  Regardless of continued growth (that must have made the experience physically uncomfortable) the dog still had fond memories of time spent in the baby carriage and wanted to continue those memories.  Who knows?—but it’s as good an explanation as any.

          Actually humans do something similar all the time.  We keep (and wear) T-shirts or sweat-shirts from a memorable time (vacation or college) even though they are no longer in good condition and we’ve (literally) out-grown them.  We hold on to other possessions from a meaningful time even though they are no longer useful.  We ring bells at the consecration of the Mass because the sound brings us comfort even though the reason for the bells no longer exists (when the Mass was in Latin people needed a signal to let them know what was going on during the Mass; in English people can follow and need no such signal). 

          None of that is necessarily bad, of course.  Memories are important.  They can bring comfort to us, recalling pleasant times or meaningful experiences or noteworthy accomplishments.

          However, while the past is very much a part of us, it’s not healthy (or holy) to live in the past.  The past has shaped us, has brought us to the present and the way we respond to the present will affect our future.  The future can never recapture the past.  We can’t go back, only forward. 

Sometimes we have trouble letting go of the past and adjusting to or accepting the present, which, in our estimation may not be as good as the past.  The “good old days” is a pretty common expression and oftentimes accurate.  The world does seem to get more and more complicated, the gulf between haves and have-nots seems to widen more and more with the passage of time, humans seem to rely more and more on themselves and less and less on God.  Maybe the good old days were better in some ways.

But we still can’t go back.  Only forward.  God is still ever-present to those who seek God, calling us forward to a deeper life of prayer and the sacraments.  We can still choose God over the ways of the world.  Every day we can make that choice.  And I hope most of us can say that our relationship with God is better today than in the past because of time and experience.  And the future can be even better if we let it be because God wants to reveal more and more of Himself to us. 

Let’s be grateful for the good old days, but not lament the present or fear the future.  God is calling us into deeper relationship with Him and that can only be good for us.

Have a blessed week . . . 

August 10th, A note from Fr. Scott

          My Spiritual Director, whom I travel to see in Syracuse about once a month, recently recommended a book for me.  Authored by Michael Casey, the book is called Fully Human, Fully Divine.  Brother Casey, a Cistercian monk from Australia, uses the Gospel of Mark to explore the humanity of Jesus, revealing much about our own humanity. 

I haven’t gotten too far in the book yet, but early on the author addresses the question: What did Jesus look like?  Of course, there are no photos of Jesus for us to view, but must of us probably have an image in our minds of what Jesus may have looked like.  Most likely our image comes from artists’ renderings of Jesus, which, of course, are no more accurate than what we might imagine.  Such paintings simply capture the artist’s idea of how Jesus looked—no more than a guess really.

So most of us have in our minds at least a vague picture of what Jesus may have looked like.  In truth, it may help in our prayer life if we have an image, but we need to realize it may be far from reality. 

Our cultural background probably influences our image.  If we are of northern European descent we might picture Jesus as fair-skinned and blue-eyed; if we are of African descent we may picture Jesus as dark-skinned with dark eyes.  I remember an episode of the old TV show “All in the Family” in which Archie Bunker (Caucasian) was having a disagreement with Mr. Jefferson (African-American) about the color of Jesus’ skin.  Archie insisted Jesus was white; Mr. Jefferson insisted he was black (of Ethiopian descent).  Of course, nothing was resolved; the two characters simply got angrier and angrier at each other (while the audience howled with laughter).

Maybe there was a reason that Jesus came among us before cameras and artists began to capture people’s looks.  (Thank goodness there were no selfies back then!)  Maybe it’s best if we don’t know what Jesus looked like because we tend to be judgmental about looks.  Certainly God never intended a particular group of people to embrace Jesus, while excluding others.  Certainly God never intended for anyone to judge Jesus based on his outward appearance.  Maybe He was short; maybe tall.  Maybe He was overweight; maybe too thin.  Maybe He was handsome; maybe plain or homely. 

Most of us probably think he was tall, handsome and muscular; but why do we think that?  Is it because we believe Jesus was perfect and therefore had to look perfect (at least the way most of define perfect)?  Jesus was fully human, like us in all things but sin.  But being fully human applies to both tall and short; to both thin and fat; to both handsome/beautiful and homely.  If we think otherwise, we’re mistaken. 

If we stop and think about it, we realize that how we look on the outside matters not to God at all.  God looks at the inside, at the heart.  That’s what Jesus did.  There’s no evidence whatsoever that Jesus placed any importance on outward appearance.  So why do we?  Because the culture around us does? 

Next time we judge someone on their looks, maybe we can stop and remember that’s not what God asks of us.  God asks us to try and see the heart.  Not an easy task, of course, but the more time we spend in quality prayer, the more likely we’ll be able to look inside rather than focus on the outside appearance.    

Have a blessed week . . .  

August 3rd, A note from Fr. Scott

          “You have got to be kidding me.”

          A friend of mine says that often, with an emphasis on the “got”.  Of course, she uses the phrase to express a sense of disbelief over some unexpected occurrence.  It’s never an expression of delight, only an expression of dismay (or anger or hurt or disappointment).  In a culture of over-used expletives, it’s actually quite a polite saying.

          “You have got to be kidding me.”  That thought went through my mind on the last day of a recent vacation.  Now, it’s important to point out that I have never mastered the art of “packing lightly”; no, I come from the school of thought that begins every packing experience with, “What if . . .?”  I can imagine multiple scenarios that could happen (and which almost never do) and so I wish to be prepared for every eventuality.  (I have a wide imagination.)  Additionally, my mother was with me and while she packs much lighter than I do, she arrives at the destination with some luggage.

          So on the last day, I grab a luggage cart from the lobby and bring it up to our room—6^th and highest floor.  I (over)load the cart and go wait for the elevator.  I push the button and wait . . . and wait . . . I wasn’t overly impatient because I knew the two elevators were always busy in the morning.  Finally the little light goes out on the down button (there is no “up” button, of course) and I know the elevator is set to open.  It opens and there in the elevator is a whole group of people (and one full luggage cart).  Since this is the 6^th and highest floor, I expect them all to disembark, allowing me to enter with my luggage cart.  That would be the logical happening.

          However, as is so often the case, logic doesn’t rule the day and no one moves.  Then I hear: “Push the ‘G’ button.”  (‘G’, of course, standing for “Ground Floor”.)  

          “You have got to be kidding me.”

          All those people got on an ascending elevator when they actually wanted to descend!  I mean, I know it happens because I’ve done it, but a whole group of people?!  What were they thinking?  That’s just it—they weren’t thinking; they just followed the misled leader.

          I, of course, had to wait for the next elevator.

          It does seem to be a human characteristic to blindly follow a leader.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing.  We listen to doctors, lawyers, contractors, coaches and financial planners (among others) because we know they have expertise in areas we do not.  We follow blindly because we trust them (to a certain extent).  Children blindly follow their parents out of trust (until they reach that rebellious stage).  Some of us blindly follow the teachings of the Church because we believe in the gathered wisdom of the ages, realizing some of it is beyond our comprehension.  Again, not a bad thing.

          I do believe, however, that God does want us to think for ourselves to some extent.  Human error has shown that blindly following is at times unwise.  The first disciples weren’t called to blindly follow Jesus.  Jesus taught them and made them think through the parables; He challenged them to understand that being a disciple wasn’t an easy undertaking; He chided them for thinking like humans rather than like God. 

          There are many human leaders who have much to offer and to whom we ought to listen, but there is only one Jesus; He’s the One Who leads us to eternal happiness.  And I’m not kidding!

          Have a blessed week . . .

July 27th, A note from Fr. Scott

In most parishes in the Diocese of Rochester, summer is a quieter time of the year.  (Lake communities are an exception.)  Fewer meetings take place; parishioners take vacations; Faith Formation sessions are on break for the most part.  Summer provides an opportunity to slow down and relax.

          That being so, I’m taking a little time to take inventory of my “stuff”.  By “stuff” I mean all the things I’ve accumulated over the years, including mounds of paper containing minutes from meetings, financial statements, articles that could be beneficial to read, presentations I’ve given over the years, etc.  Additional “stuff” includes knickknacks, recordings, books, etc.  As I’ve admitted in the past, I’m somewhat organizationally challenged.

          The process is slow-going because I have to look through each piece of paper to decide whether or not it ought to be kept.  Do I really need bank statements from years back?  (Mostly no.)  Do I really need minutes from a committee meeting that took place at a different parish while I was there?  (Not likely.)  What about bills I paid years ago or directories from years ago?  (Why do I still have these?)  Clearly I don’t throw away a lot of “stuff”.

          However, I’m determined to change that.

          Except it’s not that easy.

          While I’m pretty good for the first 10 or 15 minutes—my throw-away pile is larger than my “keep” pile in the beginning—after that initial burst of downsizing enthusiasm, sentimentality begins to kick in and the “keep” pile starts to grow and soon overtakes the “throw-away” pile.  That’s because amidst the “stuff” are many meaningful cards and gifts.  They remind me of the person who gave them to me or of a pleasant memory from the past.  Do I really want to remove the tangible connection to those memories?  Too often I weaken and give in to sentimentality. 

I’m not sure that’s a good thing.  Not that I think being a little sentimental is bad, but when sentimentality leads to a certain sense of paralysis (not being able to part with “stuff”), there is a problem.  Being too attached to anything (other than God) isn’t the healthiest way to be.  “Stuff” (which in its wider meaning can include living things like people and animals) ought not be the focus of life.  God is the focus of life; for the Catholic Christian the focus of life is the Trinity: God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit.  God provides direction and meaning to life in a way “stuff” never can.  I believe that whole-heartedly, even as I struggle with detachment from “stuff”.  Fortunately, God is amazingly patient with me—with all of us actually—although I think God likes to see some positive effort as we journey through life.  God does hope that we are learning what really matters in the long run.

Have a blessed week . . .  

July 13th, A note from Fr. Scott

One of the more popular songs of the last few months is Pharrell Williams’ “Happy” (from the film “Despicable Me 2”).  While the tune is catchy, the words don’t seem to say a whole lot, although the word “Happy” appears multiple times in the song.  Maybe that’s why the song has been played often these past few months: everyone wants to be happy.

          However, I wonder if we’ve lost a true sense of what happiness is.  For example, just in the past few days I’ve noticed advertisements stressing the words “happy” and “joy”.  No, the advertisements have nothing to do with Church or faith or religion; they’re not about ways to de-stress one’s life; they’re not about insurance or ways to be financially secure. 

          The advertisements are about consumer goods, specifically food.  Eat this, drink that, and you’ll be “happy”.  It seems to me that we’ve reduced the notion of happiness or joy from an innate longing for ultimate fulfillment to what I would call “momentary pleasure”.  (I would even suggest that the desire to be happy is a longing for union with God, which is eternal satisfaction, not just “momentary pleasure”.)

          However, there’s not a lot of money in focusing on eternal things, so clever marketers bring the idea of “happy” into the present moment.  McDonald’s has had its “Happy Meal” for a long time and retail sales have emphasized “Happy” Holidays as a way to keep the public spending.  So we issue what has become a standard greeting to one another on special occasions: “Happy Easter”, “Happy Thanksgiving”, “Happy Valentine’s Day”, “Happy Fourth of July”, “Happy St. Patrick’s Day”, “Happy New Year”, “Happy Groundhog Day”.  Of course, the venerable “Happy Birthday” has been around a long time.  In using the greetings, we offer well wishes (“momentary pleasure”) to others—not a bad thing, of course, but it does focus an awful lot on the present moment.

          As Catholic Christians, we certainly don’t ignore the present moment, but we are keenly aware that the goal of life is not to experience as much “momentary pleasure” as we can; the goal of life is to live life in such a way that we will one day know eternal happiness.  That goal can only be achieved by embracing that to which God calls us: Scripture gives us advice, counsel, consolation, encouragement and challenge, and the sacraments are God’s way of encountering us in a deep and lasting way.  We must not only listen to, but also follow, what Jesus tells us: love God with our whole being (learning to do that is a lifelong process) and our neighbor as ourselves (often sacrificing our own wants for the good of someone else).

          Unfortunately, the culture surrounding us has little interest in things eternal (I think it did many years ago)—God and faith and prayer are best kept out of normal everyday life (according to the culture)—and so we are bombarded with opportunities to be “happy today”.  I would venture to say that’s a recipe for ultimate disaster.  Every great civilization declined when individual happiness in the present moment became more important than building for the future.  The “I” and “me” became more important than the “we” and “us”.  

Fortunately, as Catholic Christians we’ve been given the gift of the Holy Spirit, Who continually reminds us (if we’re listening) of what really matters in life.  Unfortunately, sometimes the voice of the Holy Spirit gets drowned out by the noise of the surrounding culture.  The Good News is that we can make a conscious decision to listen more to the former than to the latter.  The Bad News is that no one else will do it for us.

Have a blessed week . . . filled with the Good News of what really leads to happiness . . .