Blog & Pastor Letters

“There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scrapsthat fell from the rich man’s table.”

Jesus was undoubtedly a gifted storyteller and the parable of Lazarus that we hear proclaimed this coming Sunday is certainly among one of the most powerful that we hear in the gospels.

Our faith is meant to be at work in every area of our lives — not just the personal and private, but the political and public as well.

People have a tendency today to separate politics and religion. They see religion as having to do with the afterlife and politics with the here-and-now. Religion is private and politics is public. They don’t want religious leaders to comment on public policy and they don’t want politicians meddling in Church doctrine and discipline. People want a clear separation of church and state.

An Excerpt from: Spiritual Freedom: God’s Life-Changing Gift by Fr. Dave Pivonka, published by Servant Books, Cincinnati.

“I remember one young woman who had gone through terrible struggles. She has lost her mother at a young age and had made choices that were very destructive. She had done things that she regretted, and she really had doubts about a God that loved, not to mention that she herself was lovable.

“This one began to build but did not have the resources to finish.” – Luke 14:30

If I had to choose one of the Bible’s 31,102 verses to have inscribed on my tombstone, it would be Luke 14:30.

As a companion piece, my obituary could tell the story of my life through the list of projects I never finished. Swimming lessons in preschool. Piano in the sixth grade. Every journal I’ve ever tried to keep. That trip to Europe. The house my husband and I designed and never built. My life is littered with these unfinished projects, races for which I could not make it across the finish line. Whether it was strength, interest, money, or something else, I just didn’t have “it.” I came up short.

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).