Frederick
has been very important in my life, but I never met him. You see, he was born in France in 1813, in
the aftermath of the French Revolution.
He had a happy enough childhood it seems, in a very devout Catholic
household. But, as he entered
adolescence, he came to encounter the world as much more complex and shady
place than his childhood had prepared him for. He struggled to find his place in a world of
disagreement, conflict, question and doubt.
He was an exile from the child’s garden. Everything that had seemed so secure seemed ruinously
fragile. What could he trust in to show
him God? He would later write of the
“horror of doubts that eat into the heart and leave the pillow drenched with
tears.” One night he got up from that
tear-drenched pillow and ran. He ran
into St. Bonaventure’s church, vaulted the altar rail and crashed to his knees
in front of the tabernacle. The pitiful
child cried: “Why do you hide your face, God?”
Sunday, November 30, 2014
God shows us his face in our neighbors – Isa 63:16-17, 19b; 64:2-7; Adv 1 Collect
First Sunday of Advent (B); Holy Cross Parish.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Christ hungers and thirsts for us – Matt 25:31-46, Ezek 34:11-17
Christ the King; Holy Cross Parish.
What
is it to be glorious? I ask, because I don’t think we use that word
a lot. Words we use to say that
something’s very good tend to suffer deflation over their history and new words
need to be coined. Something can be
awesome without actually causing anyone much awe anymore, or brilliant without
really make much of anything shine, or amazing without anyone being all that
amazed. But, glorious, that word seems to have kept a mystique, a value all of
its own. Our gospel tells us that at the
end of time, the Son of Man will come in his glory, that he will be glorious,
but we kind of have to hunt through the text to find what glory really means.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
God gives us what we need to prepare for joy – Matt 25:14-30, 1 Th 5:1-6
Week 33 of Ordinary Time; Holy Cross - St. Stan's.
How
would you like to be given $226,200? Or,
more precisely, to be trusted with $226,200 of someone else’s money? That’s fifteen years worth of full-time
minimum wage employment. And that’s what
a talent was. When the master we hear
about in the gospel is doling out these sums of money, it’s not always clear to
us what meaning they actually carry. And
that going back and doing a little economic history wasn’t just me indulging my
geeky side this week, but a step in appreciating the power of the gospel. A ‘talent’ was a unit of currency worth 15
years worth of day laborer pay. That’s
what the least trusted servant is
entrusted with: $226,200, one talent.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
God zealously purifies us and sends us forth – Ezek 47:1-12, Jn 2:13-22 (Lat. Bas.)
Feast of the Lateran Basilica; Holy Cross Parish.
Today
we, the Church, celebrate a church, and not just any church: we celebrate the
cathedral church of Rome, the church on whose façade is inscribed omnium ecclesiarum Urbis et Orbis mater et
caput – the mother and head of all churches of the City (that is, Rome) and
the world. By celebrating this one
church, we’re really celebrating every church, from our marble marvel here, to
the grandeur of the Basilica, to the tin roof structure with only three walls I
worshipped in when I worked in Mexico.
And we celebrate these works of human hands, because God made us with
hands, and with feet, and with behinds, and hearts and lungs… with bodies. We don’t worship God neatly in our minds, but
bodily, and bodies need buildings.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Jesus prepares a place for us – John 14:1-6, Rom 6:3-9, Ps 23 (All Souls)
All Souls, with alternative gospel; Holy Cross parish.
Daniel
Pobolski, Patricia Kowalski, Antonia Ransberg, Hilda Gzregorek, Geraldine
Tajkowski, James Plencner, Patricia Carter, Larraine Cress, Joseph Hartz, Ed
Lind, Loretta Zygulski, Eugene Lizzi, Josephine Sopzcynski, Esther
Gromski. Since my ordination, these are
the fourteen men and women that I’ve buried (one, but a boy); confining that
list to just those whose funeral I’ve presided and preached at, just those for
whom I’ve been the one the Church has charged with standing by a casket or an
urn and proclaiming hope.