Blog & Pastor Letters

Thinking back to when our neophytes were catechumens prior to the Easter Vigil, I always appreciate hearing their stories about how they came to the Catholic faith. For some, it was a spiritual conversion, maybe witnessing a healing or being directed in prayer. For others, it may have been more intellectual, asking questions and investigating the answers, leading them to the truths of the faith. Either way, the Holy Spirit’s presence is quite apparent whenever we examine the trajectories of these individuals.

I used to be a babysitter for several young children when I was a teenager. I took the certification classes, I knew basic first aid, I was comfortable with the parents, and I landed a few babysitting jobs and had the opportunity to earn a few dollars. And although I did indeed care about the children I babysat and we had some fun playing games, I obviously could never be a replacement for their parents. In that sense, I was the “hired man” to take care of the child.

It’s been said that the more you get to know someone, the more you realize that there is so much more to know about that person. If I learn tomorrow that my friend is a rock climber, all of a sudden more questions pop up: When did you start? Where do you go? How do you train? Learning this one fact makes me realize there’s a whole lot more I don’t know about the person.

What does it mean to “bear witness” to something? If we witness a crime, we can report that to the police, and they will take a witness statement to record what we’ve seen or heard. If we witness an event, we might be called upon to give an interview for a news story about our experiences.

When we read the accounts of the Lord Jesus’ appearances in his resurrected Body, we find some curious things. First, people that know him well, those whom he taught and with whom he lived and loved, somehow don’t recognize him at first; and second, these people who encounter the Risen Lord Jesus only recognize him at the Lord’s initiative.

When I was leaving my very first priestly assignment as a young parochial vicar, I was, naturally enough, very sad. I was speaking to a brother priest who worked with me in the parish as the other parochial vicar, and, with the arrogance that can only come from inexperience said, “At least I know that, as I leave this parish, all the people really loved me.” My friend, older, with a few more years of priesthood under his belt, laughed hard and said, “No, no they didn’t! What, are you crazy? Not everyone loved you!” I was horrified! I was dismayed!

When we encounter the Lord Jesus in today’s Gospel, he is at his low point, at the nadir of his popularity. He’s away from the main stage, away from Jerusalem. He received word that one of his closest friends, Lazarus, is dead. Jesus waits three days, foreshadowing the time He will spend in the tomb, before going to see Lazarus’ sisters, Martha and Mary. The Lord loves these women. They are his friends and he delights in their company. He delays his arrival outside of Bethany so that the glory of God can be shown.

I recall being in fifth grade when my teacher told my parents that I was having some problems reading what was written on the blackboard. My perceptive teacher, Mrs. Joy Agresto, noticed my squinting and my struggling to write down what was on the blackboard in that venerable grammar school, which is now known as Saint Joseph the Worker Catholic Academy. This would have been in 1982, a very long time ago.

My parents took me out to a Cohen’s Fashion Optical and I had my eyes tested. About a week later, my father took me out to the eyeglass store and I tried my glasses on the first time. I vividly recall being able to see so much better; it was like a new world of details was opened before me which I had not realized was there.

Of the many powerful scenes in the epic biopic Pope John Paul II, starring Jon Voight and Cary Elwes, one continually sticks with me. Early in the movie, in a flashback to his childhood, the young Karol falls to the ground and awakes, injured, to his mother’s voice of comfort. Here we have a beautiful example of a parent handing on, in the truest sense, the Faith of the Church. His mother tells him (and I am paraphrasing), Karol, life is confusing and complicated, God is simple. Let me show you the simple way: “In the Name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

“This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!” This week in the scene of the Transfiguration of the Lord, I want to focus on one aspect that is rarely emphasized, which I believe is imperative to our advancing in the Lenten journey: listening to God the Father speaking.

After the disciples climb up the mountain, see the Lord transfigured, and witness the conversation between Jesus, Moses and Elijah, God the Father finally speaks. Note that God the Father only speaks three times in the entire New Testament: at Jesus’ baptism, at the Last Supper, and here.

“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”

I do not know about you, but a temptation that I face every Lent is to refuse to go into the desert with Christ, to think that Lent can be complete if, for example, all I do is give up snacking or listening to music in the car. The first big hurdle that we need to get over is to hear Christ’s voice from the desert saying, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while” (Mk 6:31) and respond to it.

“If you wish, you can make me clean.” Lepers, as you know, have a bacterial infection that eats away at their flesh and gives them a pungent odor. At the time of Jesus, leprosy — now known under its scientific name, Hansen’s disease — was considered so contagious that those with it were quarantined for life and were cast out from their family, from their jobs, from the synagogue and from the temple. They were ostracized from all things human. Anyone who touched a leper became, under the Jewish custom, unclean.

“Everyone is looking for you.” It’s expected that Jesus’ response would be one similar to what he would later say, “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will refresh you” (Mt 11:28). Yet, to our surprise, he responds,“Let us go on to the nearby villages, so that I may preach there also; for this purpose I have come.” Jesus makes it clear that he came for one purpose: to preach the Gospel of the Kingdom of God.