Blog & Pastor Letters

The overarching theme found in Sunday’s readings is humility. The virtue of humility, sagely defined by C.S. Lewis, “is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.” As we hear Jesus’ words in the Gospel, this is precisely what we are invited to do by allowing space at the head of the table for others to be honored above ourselves. Jesus lived the ultimate example of humility — incarnate, reliant on Mary and Joseph as an infant and child, handing himself over to be crucified, and now allowing himself to be consumed by the faithful daily, in the guise of bread and wine in the Eucharist.

Abraham Lincoln is said to have remarked that “discipline is choosing between what you want now and what you want most.” What is it that you desire most? This is a powerful question that must be asked and answered if we want to avoid a haphazard, disjointed, and chaotic life. It also must be asked and answered if we claim to be a person of faith who is committed to living the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We all have smaller desires that motivate us throughout the day. I may desire to complete a project that has been sitting undone for some time or to spend some quality time with someone I love. But at the end of it all, what is it that you really desire?

Jesus said to his disciples: “I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing! There is a baptism with which I must be baptized, and how great is my anguish until it is accomplished!”

What are you passionate about? What stirs up the fire within you?

Faith helps us overcome many of the anxieties of daily life.

As a society, we are experiencing an epidemic of stress. Keeping up with the demands of life has worn us out. Many of us are getting much less sleep than we need. This heightened stress takes a toll on our bodies making our blood pressure soar. We overeat and use alcohol to compensate for the pressure we feel. As we close in on ourselves, we become more isolated until we find ourselves trapped in a prison of fear.

By the time you are reading this, I would be in the airplane on my way to Nigeria with Fr. Ishaya Samaila, Fr. Raymond Ogboji and Dr. Susan Moravec, a friend to our diocese. As you have known, I am returning to Zaria, my home diocese, to pay my respects to Most Rev. George J. Dodo (1956-2022) the first bishop of our diocese. He died on July 8th of natural causes. Eternal rest unto him.

I’m from the Midwest. My parents and grandparents were all born, raised, and lived their lives in the Midwest. There is a pathological politeness that has worked its way into our genetic code and the thought of inconveniencing another person causes us actual physical discomfort, so we find it impossible to ask for help unless we preface the request with five minutes of apologies and explanation.

Martha, busy serving and fretting, loses sight of just who this special guest is that has come to her home to dine. There is a subtle connection between this week’s Gospel story and the Eucharist. We can come to Mass so busy and distracted that we perfunctorily go through the motions of Mass, forgetting whom we are so privileged to receive. We all easily forget to be like Mary and choose the best part.

“Brother Sun, Sister Moon I seldom see you seldom hear your tune. Preoccupied with selfish misery. Brother Wind and Sister Air open my eyes to visions pure and fair. That I may see the glory around me. I am God’s creature, of Him I am part. I feel His love awakening my heart. Brother Sun and Sister Moon I now do see you, I can hear your tune. So much in love with all that I survey.” These lyrics by Donovan are part of the soundtrack for the 1972 movie, “Brother Sun, Sister Moon” that is based on the life of St. Francis of Assisi. They beautifully and simply capture the spirituality of this great saint as they reflect the sentiments found in his Canticle of the Sun.

At that time the Lord appointed seventy-two others whom he sent ahead of him in pairs to every town and place he intended to visit.
—Luke 10:1

>When we think about the great saints of our Catholic tradition, we realize that they very often come in pairs: Paul and Barnabas, Perpetua and Felicity, Benedict and Scholastica, Francis and Clare of Assisi, Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac, to name only a few examples. Even within my own Salvatorian community, we often see our founder, Blessed Francis Jordan, paired with Blessed Mary of the Apostles (of the Salvatorian Sisters).

How do I fit the practice of my faith into the demands of everyday life?

Putting our faith into action is the challenge of every believer. We are pulled between making time for prayer and good works on the one hand and raising a family and holding down a job on the other. It is difficult to pray the rosary or study the Bible when supper needs to be prepared, the kids need a ride to soccer practice or when we have to work overtime on a project. It is difficult to keep our minds focused on the kingdom of God when so many other demands are made on our time and energy. 

Imagine this: you’ve been waiting a long time to attend a conference with a speaker whom you admire. You’ve paid the registration, made your travel plans, settled into your hotel, and now you’ve taken your seat among many others, ready to listen, learn, and be inspired. You are ready to take notes, and you even snap a quick selfie so you can post your attendance to your social accounts, hoping to get some likes and comments. After some dazzling videos and introductions, the presentation begins with some jaw-dropping demonstrations — miracles — for which there are no real explanations, just amazement. Then, a break.

For years scientists have discovered various elements of our world that seem to push the limits of our understanding. The theory that time actually passes relative to the speed of the individual, the reality that everything is composed of various conglomerations of subatomic particles, the infinite vastness and continual expansion of the entire universe — all these theories boggle the mind. It’s hard to wrap your brain around and truly understand the possibility of some of these theories.

“Lord, send out your spirit and renew the face of the earth,” like many of the faithful, I can’t read those words without finding myself doing so along with the familiar tune of the Responsorial Psalm. In addition to the song filling my ears, an image also formulates within the heart of my imagination. As I read these words, I can almost feel the mighty rushing wind and see the tongues of fire descending and then dispersing outward to all the earth —animating, maintaining, and inspiring all of creation with the Spirit of the God.