"I'm Not the Best Catholic in the World. No Kidding. Repent."

"I know that God loves me."  These oft spoken words are far truer than any of us who have uttered them realize.  But, they are often uttered not with truth, but with a heart that is obstinate.  "I know that God loves me," is often uttered as a way of saying, "I have no need to repent."  In reality, only the heart that has true repentance can know the experience of God's love.  St. Paul himself says in Romans 5: "God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us."  We can only know the proof of God's love when we confess ourselves to be sinners.  God's greatest act of love towards us was in giving over the Son to die for our sins.  When I truly know God's love, it brings me to a deeper repentance.  And when I truly repent, I truly know God's love for me.

Fairly often, I hear people say, "Well, I'm not the best Catholic in the world."  Of course, any Catholic could say that.  But, I think there is a problem with that phrase.  Quite often that phrase is not uttered with the humility of a repentant heart, but rather with the pride of an obstinate heart.  Frequently, that phrase is used when the speaker really means, "I'm not the best Catholic in the world, I'm not going to try to be the best Catholic in the world, and I'm a heck of a lot better than most people."  Additionally, this phrase is often used to alert those who don't like the Christian Faith or the Catholic Church that, "You can still respect me because I don't buy into everything the Church teaches."  If this is the position of our heart, then we cannot really be convinced of God's love.  

Today in the Gospel, a woman washes the feet of Jesus with her tears, dries them with her hair, and anoints them with costly ointment.  This is what repentance looks like.  She teaches us what it means to know God's love.  She didn't come to Jesus and say, "I'm not the best person in the world, but there are people who are a lot worse than me."  She humbled herself before Christ.  In that moment, she wasn't comparing herself to all of the other sinners.  She was comparing herself against the love of God.  In this comparison, we all fall short.  Like the jar that she smashes open, she opens herself and pours out her heart to the Lord.  When a person truly experiences the love of God, he wants to give himself completely to that love.  He is convicted in his heart, has tremendous sorrow for his transgressions, and has an ardent desire to avoid future sins.

When we say things like, "I'm not the best Catholic," it can sound as though we mean, "I'm not a great member of this association. I missed some of the monthly meetings and I was late paying my dues."  This is not what God wants for us!  He wants us to to know His love.  He wants us to know that He loves us so much that while we were sinners, He gave His Son to die for us.  A real encounter with God's love causes a heart to become repentant.  Overwhelmed by the magnitude of His love for me, I fall upon my face and repent of living a life so unworthy of such a great love.  And in turn, He who produced that repentance in me in the first place, pours out His mercy upon me and makes me experience His great Love even more.  And then, I repent even more!  The more we know God's love, the more we repent!  The more we repent, the more we know God's love.

The only way we should ever say, "I'm not the best Catholic" is if in our hearts, we are on our knees before the Lord, repenting from past sins and sincerely striving to avoid future sins.  The woman in today's Gospel knows that God loves her.  And in front of that love, she prostrates herself, weeps, repents, and pours out everything she has.  The rest of us sinners ought to learn from her example. 

Christ Meets the Brownstones

For the past week or so, I've been taking my hound--Finbar--and walking a couple of times a day along the Boston University Campus. We pass by buildings that house the various schools that make up Boston University.  There is the College of General Studies,  the College of Arts and Sciences, the School of Education, and the list goes on.  Each of these schools or colleges represent a portion of the BU community. The young men and women who attend these colleges and schools are bound together by similar interests.  

Finbar

On the street where the Catholic Center's Newman House is, there are dozens of other old brownstones that house students who have similar interests.  If you walk up my street--Bay State Road--you will see brownstones with signs that read, "Music House," "German House," "Spanish House," and so on.  Again, these houses represent groups of students who have some interest that binds them together. It is all quite impressive.

This past Sunday, St. Luke's Gospel spoke about two groups whose members had similar interests.  Luke referred to them as "crowds."  The first crowd came together because a grieving widow had lost her only son.  She was accompanying his body to its place of burial.  All around her were gathered people who presumably wanted to console her and to grieve with her.  What brought those people together was a very human reality.  

As that particular crowd was making its way along, another crowd encountered them.  This crowd was gathered around Christ as he approached the City of Nain.  As we know, Jesus raised that woman's son and restored him to her.  In so many of Jesus' miracles, somebody makes a request of Jesus.  But in this instance, no request was made.  Instead, Jesus was moved by the woman's sorrow.  

In so many ways, this Gospel is a model for Evangelization.  It is important for the Christian crowd not to be content with its own little world.  Instead, we are supposed to encounter every other crowd.  We are called to meet them in their particular areas of interest.  We are called to meet them in the College of Education and in the College of Communication.  We are called to meet the crowd at the Music House and at the Spanish House.  We are called to encounter every crowd.  And, we don't have to wait for them to beg us to tell them about Jesus.  We have to act like Christ who was moved with a sympathy for their particular interest, a sympathy for what brought them together.  The BU Catholic Center's Newman House is a place where we are gathered by the Lord.  But, it is not a fortress.  It is, in a sense, a staging ground.  From it, students are called to bring what they discover in Christ to every aspect of life and society.  

Every human being--no matter what crowd he is in--has needs, has burdens, and has problems that seem unsolvable.  No matter how wonderful the colleges they attend might be, each of those students is going to run up against a difficulty that seems insurmountable.  The account given by St. Luke about that young man who died is a good reminder to us that Christ is the answer to man's deepest problems.  You think you have problems?  Try being dead.  That's a very big problem.  But, Christ entered into the midst of that crowd and showed himself to be the solution to man's most profound problems.

I have a pulpit and I have the privilege of preaching the Word of God from that pulpit.  But, there are places that I will likely never go.  I will not be in laboratories and operating theaters, in political science seminars and  theater productions.  But, the lay members of Christ's faithful will be in those places.  Sunday's Gospel is a reminder to all of us that the Christian crowd is meant to encounter every other crowd and to bring to them the new life that only Christ can bring.

In his first book on Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict asks what did Christ bring to humanity that none of the other great spiritual leaders before him brought?  The answer: God.  Christ brought God. The Church is called to bring God to every crowd.  We bring something new to every problem.  We bring God.  In the Gospel this past Sunday, Jesus did not look disdainfully upon the other crowd that had gathered.  Instead, he looked with sympathy on their very human situation.  What brought them together was not a bad thing.  It was something good.  They were brought together to mourn and to console.  Similarly, Catholics shouldn't look upon today's other crowds with disdain or with indifference.  Instead, we ought to see in each of those crowds an urgent desire for new life.  We ought to look with sympathy and with affection on these contemporary crowds.  They gather together for good and noble reasons.  In bringing Christ to these crowds, we are not setting out to destroy them.  We are bringing what perfects them: God.

Some First Impressions of the Boston University Catholic Center

Without intending it, I suppose I've been looking for little signs during the past week.  What kind of place is the Boston University Catholic Center?  What kind of kids are they?  What is their Faith like?  What is the Liturgy like?  Having been here only a week--and a week during the summer when most everyone is gone--I have some initial impressions.  Mostly, I have just a few small anecdotal signs.

On my first day, the office manager arranged to have one of the seniors take me around in order to get my paperwork filled out and to attain my "Terrier Card" (the University ID).  As one who does not enjoy trudging around from office to office getting forms stamped, signed, and approved, I was grateful to have the company.  From this, I gather that there is a sense of charity and responsibility for one another.  I'm happy about that.

I had lunch with one of the FOCUS (Fellowship of Catholic University Students) missionaries who is missioned to Boston University.  It was so encouraging to see a young man who is so dedicated to the Lord and so intent upon sharing the joy of the Gospel.

At the end of Mass, instead of all filing out of the small chapel at the Newman House, all of those present knelt down and prayed in thanksgiving for a few minutes.  That's impressive.

Upon seeing the chapel for the first time after some rearranging had been done, one young man noticed that one of the walls needed some paint work.  He said, "Father, I will get some brushes and paint and get that taken care of during the summer."  To me, that shows charity and a sense of responsibility.  Impressive.

While sitting on the front steps of the Catholic Center, two students--boyfriend and girlfriend--stopped to ask me about the Mass schedule for the summer and the confession schedule.  How happy that made me!

Last night, there were about sixty students for Mass.  Not bad for the summer time.  They had the whole thing organized.  Again, a few of the students took charge setting up (we use the interdenominational chapel for Sunday Mass), assigning readers, ushers, Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion, and servers.  I was impressed by their attention and organization.

The students sang and did so beautifully.

I think what has most struck me thus far is the Faith that is present among the students.  We know that where there is Faith, great things can happen.  So, I fully expect that the Lord will continue to do great things here because the most important foundation is already here: Faith. 

It is encouraging to see young people who are walking with Christ, being shaped by His grace, and enthusiastic to bring Christ to others.

That's a pretty good first week if you ask me.

The Vocation to the Priesthood

When I started this blog, one of my hopes was that it might be of some encouragement to some young man who might be thinking about being a priest. The following video was produced by my parishioners as part of my farewell party. While the video talks a lot about me personally, it describes beautifully the relationship that exists between a priest and his people. I hope that some young man whom God is calling to be a priest might watch this video and think, " I want to shepherd a people like that!"  There is a beautiful love that exists between a priest and the people he is called to serve. If you say, "Yes" to that call, you will lose nothing and gain everything. 

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BxsuMb8yDXo

Ending and Beginning with a Confidence in Love

For the past few days, as I've been unpacking boxes, learning what keys open what doors, unpacking more boxes, learning names, hanging pictures, and giving up for a while on opening any more boxes, in the back of my mind I've been thinking about last Sunday.  It was the last day in my parish where I've spent the last thirteen years.  It coincided with the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, so the Mass concluded with our annual Corpus Christi Procession and Benediction.  The party afterwards was totally amazing--600 parishioners, beautiful speeches, an awesome video (that I hope to post at some point), and some very thoughtful gifts.

I've wanted to write about it for the past few days.  At first, I thought that my difficulty in writing about it was simply that I'm running around like crazy getting myself settled in to my new assignment. But, upon reflection, that is not the reason.  The real reason is that unless you actually lived what we've been living for the past thirteen years, nothing I say can describe it.  And, if you have been living it with us, nothing I say will adequately convey our experience. 

When I left Beverly a few nights ago, I left with an assurance: those people love me.  No, I don't mean they love me in terms of "I'm popular" or in some mere emotional way.  I mean that those people have loved me with Christian Charity.  They have loved me.  Over the years, whether in my blog or in my bulletin columns to them, I've written extensively on the fact that I love them.  It's been an awesome way to live priesthood.  This shepherd loved his flock.  I was so happy that in the video, one of the parishioners interviewed said just one thing, "He loves us."  I loved hearing that!  That was the best thing anyone could ever say about me.

For me, it seemed that all of the work and effort that went in to that extravaganza was intended to communicate something to me.  Firstly, it was their way of saying, "Father, we know that you love us."  And secondly, they were saying, "And we also love you."  If giving me the assurance of those two things--our mutual love for one another--was their intention, then they were splendidly successful.

This assurance does not leave me melancholic.  It leaves me with a renewed confidence.  That incredible last day in my parish leaves me more convinced of Christ and the Gospel.  In those last hours together, I was once again convinced that Christ is not an abstraction.  I'm not sorry that we risked everything on loving each other.  When I left there, I knew that I was loved.  And those people knew that they were loved.  The Church exists in order to communicate to everyone the Love of Christ.  That's not an abstraction.  It involves real persons, real joys, real sorrows, real problems, real aspirations.  Love is Real.

No man wants to give his life for an abstraction.  Priesthood isn't about some theoretical spirituality or some vague, nice sounding platitudes.  The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.  He doesn't lay down his life for an abstract concept of sheepiness. 

Yesterday, I began a new assignment as the Catholic Chaplain at the Boston University Newman House.  I arrive here with one very big certitude: If I love them in Christ and they love me in Christ, beautiful things will happen.  That's not an abstract theory.  That's a fact.

Witnesses to Love: Justin Martyr, Henry, and Phyllis

Nineteen hundred years ago St. Justin Martyr shed his blood for the faith.  Every year on June 1, the Church recalls St. Justin Martyr for his witness to the Gospel.  This morning at St. Mary Star of the Sea Parish in Beverly, we celebrated Mass in honor of St. Justin, but we also honored two modern day witnesses to the Gospel.

Every morning at St. Mary Star of the Sea Church, Henry and Phyllis can be found in the second pew.  Up until a few years ago, they were snowbirds and so would be gone for a few months of the year.  Because of health issues, they stopped going away for the winter.  While I'm sorry that they lost out on their winter warmth, I have to admit that I'm glad they're here full time.  Henry leads the communion hymn every morning.  For thirteen years, he's either picked, "O Lord I am not Worthy" or "I Love You Lord" as the hymn.  After thirteen years, the selections haven't grown old. 

Of course, in Henry and Phyllis' calendar, thirteen years is just a drop in the bucket.  We honored and prayed for them today because they are celebrating their 67th wedding anniversary!  When people argue against the Church's teachings on marriage, I'd like to take them to meet Henry and Phyllis. They are witnesses to the truth about marriage.  If you want to see what marriage was meant to be, there it is.

Justin converted to the Faith, in part, because he was struck by the witness of the Christians who were suffering and dying for the Faith.  He was moved by their example.  Without intending it, Henry and Phyllis provide all of us with an example of fidelity, love, and sacrifice.  Marriage--like every Christian vocation--is a sort of martyrdom.  Each spouse sacrifices his or her own self for the sake of the other.  It is a total self-giving.  When others see the way in which Henry and Phyllis love each other and sacrifice for each other, we recognize the truth and beauty of it.  Their witness spurs us on to do the same. 

Henry and Phyllis--thanks for being witnesses.

Dear Friends in Christ, Truly

For the past nine years, almost every week I've written a letter to my parishioners in the weekly bulletin.  Today's is the last of those letters.

Dear Friends in Christ,

As I write that salutation to you, “Dear Friends in Christ,” for the last time as your pastor, my heart is filled with wonder and with gratitude for the tenderness that Christ has shown towards me during these past thirteen years.  In the communion of life that we have been given together, I have daily encountered the face of Christ; a face of tenderness, mercy, and charity.  As I ponder all that Christ has given to me in our communion together, I realize again that there is nothing that Christ will not give to me.

Over the past decade, I’ve tried to use this column to build up our communion.  Through humor, through expressing the practical needs of parish life, through doctrinal teaching, through explanations concerning the Liturgy or the Scriptures, and through personal reflections on my life as your pastor, I have tried to use this column to strengthen our communion.  I did so because I believe that at the very heart of parish life there must be a very deep and solid communion.  Without this communion, we have very little.  Experience has only confirmed this within me. 

In these last words to you as your pastor, I wish to convey something necessary and serious; a charge of sorts.  Do everything possible to preserve the communion of life that God has given to you.  Do nothing to weaken that communion. The Evil One tries to steal sheep from the Lord by sowing division.  He does this in all sorts of ways.  He draws some away from the life of the Sacraments.  He draws others away from the sure and certain doctrines of the Church.  He draws others away from the authority of the Church’s pastors—the Pope, the bishops, and the priests. 

The division that the Devil sows is not only accomplished through grand gestures, but most especially in subtle ways.  He does it through gossip, through calumny, through envy, through cattiness, through resentments, through disobedience, through backbiting, through cynicism, and through a thousand other proven methods.  Christ draws us continually into deeper communion with the Trinity and with His Body, the Church.  Christ is always about the work of communion.  He draws the people He loves together through the sacramental life of the Church, through the profession of the One Faith, and through the life of charity. 

I urge you to guard zealously the unity that Christ has given to you.  Avoid all division.  Adhere with all of your strength to the True Faith.  Humbly devote yourselves to the Word of God and to the Sacraments.  Be obedient to those who exercise authority in the Church.  Do nothing and say nothing that would ever allow anyone to think that there was even an inch of distance between you and the Pope, the Bishops, and your priests.  Be of one heart and mind.  Flee from all division.  Never speak ill of one another and never allow envy, cynicism, dissension, or rivalries to have a place among you.  Let the whole world marvel at the love that you show towards one another.

These words, I know, are a bit odd to have as a parting letter to you.  But, Christ has given to you something truly beautiful.  Something so beautiful is always disdainful to the Enemy.  Thus, you should be on your guard.  Whenever you feel yourself drawn towards division, know that this is the work of the Enemy.  Instead, be drawn towards deeper communion.  Be quick in forgiving.  Be generous in kind speech.  Be steadfast in Faith.  Be patient in adversity.  Be one in mind and heart with your shepherds.  Be constant in prayer.  Preserve the unity that Christ has given to you.  In his great prayer to the Father, Christ prayed, “that all might be one.”  When you live that oneness with each other in the communion of the Church, you are living the fulfillment of Christ’s prayer. 

How blessed I have been to be your shepherd!  How blessed I have been to learn from your example!  How blessed I have been to experience the profound communion of the Church in our life together!  You can be certain that I will always remember you in my prayers and that I am most grateful to be remembered in your prayers.  With all of my heart, I entrust you to the maternal tenderness of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  May she who is the bright Star of the Sea guide all of us through the storms of this life to the safe harbor of heaven where he who sits upon the throne declares: “Behold, I make all things new!”

Your Brother in Christ,

Fr. David Barnes