For the Anniversary Mass of the Dedication of Saint Barnabas Parish Church (2021)

Sixty years ago this past week, on October the sixth, 1961, the first holy Mass was celebrated in the basement of the rectory here at Saint Barnabas. The cornerstone to this parish church would be placed in the summer of 1962 and the Dedication Mass would be celebrated in the completed church one year later on June 16, 1963. This weekend, we celebrate the anniversary of that first holy Mass as well as the dedication of this parish church. 

Here, in this place, our savior and our God, Jesus Christ, has chosen to dwell and it is holy. How many have come through those doors, pastors and parishioners, to offer Holy Mass! How many baptisms, confirmations, first communions, anointings, absolutions, weddings—how many graces have been given here in the Father’s house! How many of our beloved dead have been lifted in prayer to God at the funeral Mass! Truly, holiness has been sown into the ground here—and the ground we walk on is holy. To God be all praise, honor, and glory. 

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In these most recent days, many wonder whether there will be another sixty years here. As Jesus passes by, we are like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus who say to Jesus, “Mane nobiscum, Domine”—stay with us, Lord. The two disciples had enjoyed the past encounter along the way, but they were worried for the future. 

The enemy, the devil, would have us dwell either in the past or in worry about the future. The enemy does this because it takes us away from the present. Our Lord, in the Sermon on the Mount, tells us not to worry about tomorrow for there is enough evil for one day. Colloquially, therefore, we are often told to live in the “present moment.” He tells us this because the future does not exist and the past is no more. The present in the place where we live under God’s providence. 

But there is something peculiar to the present moment, something more that Our Lord wants to highlight: The present moment is the moment in which God Himself has chosen to dwell. As such, it is right that many saints call the present moment the “Eternal Moment.” It is the Eternal Moment because God has entered into it by His Holy Incarnation. The Eternal has broken into the Present—and thus this is the place, this moment, where contemplations can happen. 

That is why the enemy would have us living in the past or worrying about the future—precisely so that we would not dwell in the place and moment where God dwells. “Zacchaeus,” says our Lord, “make haste and come down for I must stay at your house …”—in two weeks? No: “… I must stay at your house today.” Notice the immediacy: “Make haste, Zacchaeus,” you do not have this moment for long. Open the doors of your heart right now—for it will soon be past; and do not delay for later, because the invitation is not forever! 

And what happened next? The Lord stayed with him to fulfill the Scriptures that have said: “the dwelling of God is with men.” 

And what did He do there? He made “all things new.” Those who dwelled in darkness encountered the light; the feet of sinners were turned around to the path of sainthood. “See,” says our Lord, “I make all things new.” 

You see, in the Eternal Moment, heaven breaks into our existence. What makes heaven, heaven? It is the place where God dwells. In this moment, therefore, there is a foretaste of heaven. In this moment, just as in heaven, God brings with Him His holy angels and saints; they are here too. We prayed the Gloria and will pray the Sanctus with them. Together, the holy angels and saints beckon us to allow Our Lord entry into our hearts—to let heaven dwell in our souls—for at least a moment. And there in our souls, He will dwell and make things new. 

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And should He continue along the way and no longer dwell here in this parish church (for He is passing by, after all), we will certainly ask, as did those first Apostles once asked: “Lord, where are you staying?” And His response will be the same as it was then: “Come and see” and “Follow me.” 

For there will come a time that this place will be no more. Seven minutes—are you prepared?—seven months, seven million years (only the Father knows and not even the Son)—there will come a time that this place, the first heaven and the first earth, this, will pass away. And the Eucharist, the pilgrim’s food, will no longer be needed either: the holy city, the new Jerusalem, will come down out of heaven from God and this pilgrimage and its heavenly food will be finished. 

Then we shall see Him face to face, He who was with us here in this moment here on earth, whom we praised and contemplated and adored here. Here, in this present, eternal—beautiful—heavenly moment. 

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Health Update

Blessings to you.

First, I thank all who have prayed for me over the past week or so. Your prayers have been wonderfully helpful to me and I am most grateful.

For those who are looking for more information "from the horse's mouth," here it is.

On Sunday, September 19th, during the morning and then continuing through Holy Mass, I experienced palpitations of the heart and shortness of breath. Thankfully, two amazing nurses were in the pews when I was struggling through the consecration. And at their kind recommendation, I went to the hospital.

Tests at the hospital came back pretty good and never was I told this was the result a "panic attack." However, a CT scan of my lungs showed some "stuff" in my lungs. ... And thus I am being treated for pneumonia. I never thought I'd be saying "I have pneumonia" at age 40, but here we are.

 Hopefully, treatment will clear up whatever is going on in there.

(And no, it's not Covid. I've been tested, gosh, like five times in the past three weeks!)

Ultimately, I'm back at the rectory and feeling fine and have resumed all my usual duties -- I simply become short of breath a little easier. But I trust that will improve in the days ahead.

The past week or so has been a blessing for me and it has really been because of your prayers. God is faithful and He delivers us from evil. Thank you for your prayers and may God bless you for your kindness.

May you continue to find strength in Him during these days.

With Mary Our Mother,

Father Gerber

Abandoned or Claimed? - Homily for the 21st Sunday in OT (2021)

I’ve been on many flights and I’ve done the whole thing of checking the bag at the ticket counter. I say goodbye to my bag and then pray: Lord, please bring it back to me at my destination. And I get to my destination and head to baggage claim. And you know how it goes: there is the carousel and everyone is waiting; and the buzzer goes off and an alarm light and the bags start coming down the chute. People see their bags and it doesn’t matter whether the bags are full of clean clothes or dirty clothes: they run to their bags and are happy that their bags aren’t lost. Because that would be the worst, right?—when all the bags are claimed and everyone has left the carousel and your bag never showed up. It’s lost. 

But that’s not actually the worst. I mean, you could get a call—and will likely get a call—a day later saying that the airline found your bag. It was lost in Sheboygan or something but now it’s found. So, that’s not the worst. 

The worst is when days pass, weeks pass—and you realize that you are never getting your bag back. You have to give it up forever and give up hope of ever getting it back. Losing luggage is not the worst—having to abandon it is. -- 

Abandonment. 

We swim in that word these days, we feel it, even if we don’t know it by its name. Abandonment: a sense of hopelessness, connected to giving up, and being rejected. I’m not talking about luggage anymore. I’m talking about you and me. We can so easily feel abandoned and operate from that. And maybe for good reason: maybe one of our parents left the family when we were younger; or maybe you have felt abandoned by your spouse who chooses the drink or maybe your spouse left you; maybe you feel abandoned by your kids—rejected; abandoned. And maybe we felt it this past year; maybe we felt abandoned by our priests and bishops. 

We know it’s the worst because it pulls on our heart strings when we see others abandoned, like in the pictures coming from Afghanistan.  And our family and friends who have served over there—many of them and their families have been forgotten in this news cycle. Yes, abandonment is the worst. – 

Which is why I was totally devastated by Jesus’ question today. He asks: “Do you also want to leave?”

 (He had just taught on the Eucharist and its says because of this, many of his disciples left Him and returned to their former way of life. That is, many of Jesus’ disciples abandoned Him. And Jesus is God and He is strong and you’d think it wouldn’t matter to Him, really. But then He turns to the remaining Twelve, the Apostles, and asks Do you also want to abandon me as well?) 

And that’s devastating to me because it means that Jesus cares if He is abandoned. God cares if we leave Him. – 

And how many people have left Him today! And not only about the Eucharist, but that second reading! You heard the line: wives, be subordinate to your husbands. How many today echo the crowds as they say, This saying is hard. -- wives, be subordinate to your husbands?! -- Who can bear it? And they grumbled against Him. 

Each year, there is someone who elbows their spouse during that second reading. 

But what was the first line of that passage? Do you remember the first line? – Look, brothers and sisters, you need to know the first line. Everyone knows the second line about the wives. But you must know the first line. If you don’t get the first line, you will mess it all up. The first line says: 

Be subordinate to ONE ANOTHER out of reverence for Christ. 

In other words, there is no power-play here; it isn’t as though men are way up here and women are way down here. No. We are equals in dignity and we are both called to lay down our lives. Hence Jesus says: Husbands, love your wives AS CHRIST loved the Church. How did Jesus do that? By dying for her. He washed her feet. Spouses, have you washed each other’s feet? Do you not know that you are both to be subordinate to one another out of reverence for Christ? 

And how many people have left Jesus and His Church because they didn’t understand that. They gave up. They lost hope because they didn't hear the first line. They only focused on the second. And they abandoned Him. And Jesus cares about that. – 

But, there’s more. That question that Jesus asks Peter and the Apostles (do you also want to go), none of us understands the gravity of that question. I need to walk you though this. 

Because, what if Peter and the Apostles say “yeah, we’re out”? 

After all, Jesus had been with them for almost two years at this point. He had called them, claimed them as His own; He has taught them the parables and the mysteries behind the parables; He has given them authority over spirits and revealed His glory at the Transfiguration. If the Apostles leave now, there is no time to form a new batch. They are it. All of Jesus’ eggs are in one basket. 

Because, if they go, there will be no Apostles at the Last Supper, no ordination of priests there. And at the Resurrection, sure, you’ll still have Mary Magdalene there and she’ll see the Resurrection—but who will believe her? After all, during that era in history there was an actual patriarchal system—nobody would have believed a former prostitute who was raving about a man she loved as being raised from the dead. Mary Magdalene needed the Apostles because they confirmed what would have otherwise been dismissed.

That is all to say: without the Apostles, we may have experienced graces of salvation because of the Cross, but we would be on soft ground when it came to the Resurrection; and, more, we would not have the grace of union that comes from the Eucharist—because we wouldn’t have the priests to do it. 

That’s the gravity of this question. If the Apostles say no, it’s over. No Eucharist—which is precisely what Jesus had just taught on. 

And if we think Jesus wouldn’t do this, remember: He did the very same thing when He sent Gabriel the Archangel to Mary and asked Mary if she would say yes to the Father’s plan. If Mary says no, it’s over. – 

So let's boil all of this down to a single point. And that point is: what is Jesus really asking Peter in this moment? Jesus is asking: Do you claim me as your Savior and Messiah? Do you claim me or abandonment. Because to claim is the opposite of to abandon.

And what does Peter do? He says: Master, we’ve left everything. Where else would we go? 

Peter claims Him. And I love the honesty, too. Peter is honest that is claiming is weak. It is weak claim because Peter says, Yeah, you’re my Messiah, but it’s really because I have nothing else. 

And that’s true. Peter has nothing else. And you would think that Jesus would be upset by such a weak claim. But it is enough for Him. And He blesses Peter and the Apostles. 

And notice what Peter says next. He says, We are convinced that you have the words of everlasting life. 

In other words, Peter is admitting, when it comes to this hard teaching on the Eucharist and, really, on Jesus as the Messiah-- Peter is freely admitting: Lord, I don’t know how you are going to do it. I don’t know how you are going to turn bread and wine into your flesh and blood. And I don’t know how we are going to eat that. And, more, how eating that would bring us to eternal life in the Father. But, Jesus, I saw you walk on water last night. And multiply loaves and fishes the evening prior. I believe that you can do this… 

That's beautiful to me. --

And it's beautiful, too, because Jesus is also claiming Peter. They stay together. They are in this together. In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.

That second reading comes full circle: I speak of a great mystery; I speak in reference to Christ [the husband] and the Church [His bride]. 

And the two become one flesh.

How does Jesus become one flesh with us? In the Eucharist, His body and blood enters our body and blood. And the two become one flesh. 

See? Jesus is present here. He has not abandoned us! And the fact that Jesus is present even now in this tabernacle—it is proof that Jesus has not abandoned us. It is proof that when Peter claimed Jesus, Jesus blessed that and claimed him, too.

So, you are not abandoned, my friends! You have been claimed! 

Jesus invites you to claim Him, now, too. Claim Him as your Savior! Say to Him, Lord, I don’t know how you are going to solve the pandemic; I don’t know how you are going to care for my checkbook or my marriage or my family – and the million other worries that I have in this life. But, Jesus, Master,  you are my Messiah. And I believe that you can do it. 

This is a moment of decision. And don’t think for a second that it isn’t important. Peter’s moment was crucial! Mary’s moment was paramount! Your moment—generations in your family are affected by this decision to abandon or to claim.

And if not for them, then for you. Because when we live from a place of abandonment, we totally get stressed out and burned out. And we get that way because we’re carrying it all ourselves, we are trying to do everything ourselves. And we try to do that because we feel abandoned and we’re operating from that. And then we become irritable—and who wants to be around that? 

But if we claim Jesus and let Him claim us—if we really are convinced that He is my Savior and yours—then we can give Him control. We can say, Lord, I know you can do it. I believe you will do it. You will help me in a radical and beautiful way. Because you are my Messiah. 

And when we operate from that position, we are much more at peace—because it’s no longer entirely on our shoulders. HE is helping us carry this Cross. And from that comes a greater patience, and more energy, and more generosity. And a kindness that people like to be around. 

So claim Him, brothers and sisters. 

For He has not abandoned you. You have been claimed!

The Fairy Tale - Homily for the 18th Sunday in OT (2021)

One of the universals that still continues to this day is the fairy tale. Cinderella. Beauty and the Beast. James and the Giant Peach. Jack and the Beanstalk. We grew up on these. Disney made a fortune retelling them. 

GK Chesterton, in his amazing book Orthodoxy (a book that truly blows my hair back), talks about fairy tales and he observes a few universals about them—universals, I think, that you will see as important to our readings today. And to your life. 

The first thing Chesterton notes is that fairy tales are much different than modern novels. Fairy tales have ordinary people embarking upon extraordinary world. Modern novels often have sickly people in dull worlds. A child yawns at the modern novel, but is excitedly engaged in the fairy tale.

Second, he notes that many people think that fairy tales are simply “make believe,” which is to imply that they are not real or have no connection to reality. But such people are wrong. After all: have you never seen an elephant? Become a child for a moment and remember seeing an elephant for the first time and with fresh eyes. That long trunk! The huge feet. And a short tail, unkempt like a donkey. Why, an elephant is straight out of a fairy tale! (Which is why children awe and laugh when they see one: they see that the fairy tale is true and real!). And elephants are not the exception. Duck-billed platypuses; zebras striped like tigers and tigers striped like zebras; the Milky Way; Monsignor’s bald head; my nose – the stuff of fairy tales and yet all very real. 

Third, Chesterton notes that fairy tales speak universal and ancient truths. Beauty and the Beast teaches that you must love a person before you can discover that they are loveable; Tangled teaches that you have a dignity greater than you are often aware. 

And fourth, Chesterton observes that fairy tales often have laws. The Beast must find love before the last petal falls. Cinderella must be home before midnight. And why? Or, to put it another way, what if Cinderella were to protest to her fairy godmother? The fairy godmother could say: “well, why even a magical carriage or a beautiful dress or the glass slippers? Being home by midnight is part of the magic.” 

If there is a problem with the modern world and, also, with the modern Church, it is that we have lost the fairy-tale worldview—not that we are supposed to believe in a fairy tale. Rather, what we have forgotten is that we live in a fairy tale. 

More than simply elephants and the duck-billed platypus, isn’t it odd that we not only believe in but live in a world where a virgin has conceived and given birth to a son; where a man has died and then risen from the dead (to say nothing of walking on water); where angels dwell among us; and where demons can be driven out by men; where God waits for the command of a priest to change bread into Jesus; where ordinary men can become saints; and where the most extraordinary of men, Jesus, had a nose. And was God. 

That’s the stuff of fairy tales. And what is most magical of all is that it is real. 

If there should be any balking by modern man it is that the story-teller, God, who wrote this story, should include such a law akin to “be home by midnight”—as we see Him say in keep one day a week holy. 

Should there be a protest against His laws, is it not enough for Him to say to us: well, why should there be elephants? Or men on two legs? Or stars? Or even Existence at all? – it all goes with the magic. 

And that is what we live in: a magical world. 

But that is what the world has forgotten. We pull up the weather forecast and subconsciously flatten the weather into percentages and predictability—instead of the wild reality of angels enacting the providence of God to give man food in the proper season. 

“Give us a sign,” the people tell Moses. But had they not just seen a sign? Had they not seen several? The Red Sea had just parted and the waters had covered Pharaoh's chariots and charioteers; the pillar of fire was still burning. And yet they grumbled. Because providing food in the desert is the stuff of fairy tales and this was real life, not a fairy tale, Moses! 

“Give us a sign,” the people commanded Jesus. But literally the evening before, Jesus not only fed them with miraculous bread, multiplied from five loaves and two fish, but He had also walked on water. Give us a sign, because You couldn’t possibly turn bread and wine into your flesh and blood, Jesus, that would be magic, the stuff of fairy tales—like Beast transforming into a man; or Eugene in Tangled being healed by Rapunzel’s tears. 

Here, we arrive at St. Paul’s words. He says there are many who live “in the futility of their minds.” What is the futility of the mind? It is to make a very real, magical world flat. To reject what God has made and instead to concoct a world of make-believe—a fakeness where a day is just a day, a storm is just a storm, a person is just a person, a job is just a job; where Holy Mass is just a meeting; where confession is just psychology; where pandemics are simply accidents and problems to be solved like a math equation—instead of another engagement on a cosmic battlefield where the ordinary man is armed with the supernatural powers of prayer, the intercession of the saints in glory, and the Divinity of Jesus in the Eucharist. 

Futility is grayness. A flatness and dreariness that cannot laugh at an elephant nor praise the God who made it. 

Thus, Saint Paul cries out: “Put away the old self of your former way of life… and be renewed in the spirit of your minds”! 

To see that not only is the fairy tale real, but that you dwell in The Fairy Tale—that is the renewal of your mind! To believe that you and I, ordinary men and women, dwell in extraordinary lands and in extraordinary circumstances. We are Belle, Rapunzel, Cinderella, Jack – facing the Giant, like David did Goliath—and all of us, you and me both, are facing a decision and that decision determines our greatness or our baseness, our heroism or our cowardice, our sanctity or our condemnation. 

To put it all succinctly and in the words of our Savior: “Unless you become like little children, you will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” 

Jesus could have said those words are the beginning of this, His Bread of Life Discourse, His teaching that inaugurates the Eucharist—which we find here at this Holy Mass. 

“Unless you become like children!”—and what is the hallmark of the child? That it believes that the fairy tale is real. Indeed, more than belief, the child lives in that world-- it could be no other way-- and so it swims in the splendor of God with wonder and with gratitude—the very things from which happiness springs and which, to quote our fairy tales, lead us to “Happily ever after.” 

This is the Catholic worldview. And it is wonderfully, magically real.

Saint Joseph the Worker - Homily for Day 8 of the Carmelite Novena (2021)

 This evening, on the penultimate night of our holy novena, in this holy year of Saint Joseph, the heavenly Father gathers us together once more to contemplate the depths of His mercy and the beautiful wisdom of His divine plan. Particularly, He desires we reflect upon Saint Joseph as the Model of Workers. 

One of the constants of human life is the cooperation in the creative impulse of God. From the first days of caring for the Garden to these recent days marked by industrialization and new technologies, man has be invited to unite his intellect and will to that of the heavenly Father—for the praise of His glory—in the opus Dei: that is, the work of God. 

One of the oddities about human labor is that its fruits often remain through the years. We do not simply build imaginary castles in the sky; some of our labors impact the created, material world. From the brickwork here at Carmel to the Pieta of Michelangelo from centuries ago—this work still remains. Indeed, those who were most skilled at their labors often see the greatest longevity of their labors. Many of the aqueducts of the Roman Empire still exist today. 

Which makes Saint Joseph an interesting choice for the Model of Workers. Sure, we know him to be a carpenter. But, on closer examination, it appears as though nothing of his labor remains. Save but the legend of the miraculous staircase in Santa Fe, nothing of Saint Joseph’s carpentry shop remains. No table or chairs, no armoire cabinet or desk with inlay. In a way, it would seem that having Saint Joseph as the Patron of Workers would simply remind workers that their labors pass away. 

But there is one work of Saint Joseph’s that will never pass away. It wasn’t a work with wood or ruler and hammer. It was the work found in the home. 

At the heart of God’s divine plan for Saint Joseph was the work of forming a family. Of building a home on the foundation of prayer and of virtue. And of protecting the Blessed Mother and the Child Jesus when forces much larger than Saint Jospeh threatened the Holy Family. 

This is the work of Saint Joseph’s that remains: not a table or chairs, but the blessed Mother and our Savior. Indeed, without Saint Joseph laboring for the salvation of His Family against Herod, we would have no Holy Eucharist. In a very real way, the Eucharist is the greatest fruit of Saint Joseph’s labors. 

When Pope Pius XII instituted the Memorial of Saint Joseph the worker in 1955, he did so as a direct refutation of the atheistic communism of the time. The “irreligious reds” had divorced work from holiness; indeed, they had tried to make man a machine, a cog in the body politick; and to inculcate the false idea that the family—and especially God—were obstacles to the greatest good which was productivity. 

Pope Pius reminded the world that the ultimate purpose of labor is not simply productivity, but of God’s glory wherein man realizes his dignity as a cooperator in the creative impulse of God. In a word, labor is forever married to holiness. And holiness cannot be had unless it is intimately tied to the Creator and His transcendent plan for our salvation. That is to say, at the heart of Saint Joseph’s work in the carpentry shop was literally Jesus—in flesh and in mission. Jesus inspired the work of Saint Joseph and brought Saint Joseph’s work to fulfillment. 

Do you have Saint Joseph working for you? Not only have Popes exhorted the faithful to a greater devotion to the foster-father of the Redeemer, but so many saints have as well. Saint Andre Bessette, the miracle-worker of Montreal, had a profound devotion to Saint Joseph. Always encouraging people to turn to Saint Joseph, Andre—who himself was merely a porter, one who opens doors—Andre had Saint Joseph opening the doors of faith and healing to all who entrusted themselves to the pure heart of Joseph. This was Saint Andre’s greatest work and it was a work of holiness that is remembered in Montreal and throughout the world to this day.

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In these most recent days, we have seen a resurgence of communism and its errors and evils. Concurrently, we have also seen the rise of automation and a generation that sees labor as a drudgery ultimately to be avoided. The absence and the end of labor—which is idolized today as “retirement”—is quite wrongly seen as the ultimate good. Long forgotten is that rich tradition and treasury of social encyclicals of our Holy Catholic Church that harken not only to man’s rights concerning labor, but also to man’s responsibility to develop and use our talents for the glory of God and the good of others. Why should our labor for holiness and the kingdom of God end when we hit “retirement age”? 

May these present evils, through the intercession of our Holy Patron, be conquered! 

For it is Saint Joseph who renews our focus and our mission in our work. Even his hiddenness reminds us that, while most of our labors may seem inconsequential and far from something glorious—that while most of what we do remains unseen by the world—God sees. And God will reward the laborer for his work. 

In a particular way, in these days, we lift up to our heavenly Father those who are unemployed or underemployed. We lift up to Him those, too, who labor under societal structures that keep them from enjoying the fruits of their labors. We lift up to Him those who do not know rest. We lift up to Him our very selves, that we may once again find Jesus in our places of work; that we may find our mission of holiness there, and Jesus and Mary who were the ultimate labor of Joseph’s pure heart. 

Saint Joseph, model of workers. Pray for us.

Upside-Down or Right-Side-Up? - Homily for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost (ExForm, 2021)

 In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. + 

One of my favorite quotes of GK Chesterton—and I paraphrase here—goes like this: The world is upside down. But God is in the business of making it right-side up. 

A lot of our world is upside down. Even in some sectors of our Catholic communities, things are upside down. Those who are watering down the faith and sowing confusion are often extolled as so faithful and so forward thinking whereas the devout are so often ridiculed as Pharisaical. Talk about love, and those who have no definition of it other than that it can mean anything—including the union of that which is opposed to God (who is love)—they are up held as so loving, whereas those who stand and say that Love is defined and that it really is one man and woman in marriage—well, they are said to be unloving. And freedom: so many say that freedom is doing whatever one wants. And those who have large families—well, they are just rabbits and their free choice to have many children is a large carbon footprint that enslaves future generations.

I could go on. But you get the point. Something is upside-down. Evil is taught as good; good is taught as evil.

In the Gospel this morning, we see Jesus praising (through a parable) the dishonest steward. This seems upside down. And it is. So why is Jesus praising the dishonesty? He is doing so to prove that the world is consistent in its praise for the upside-down. The world, of course, as the Epistle points out, is totally enamored in the flesh, and is enslaved to the flesh—and is upside down. But it thinks that we are upside down. 

Celibacy? Upside down. Large families? Upside down. Latin Mass? Upside down. Keeping the commandments while also being generously charitable? Upside down.

Of course, those things are right-side-up. But the world doesn’t see it that way—precisely because, to the world, The Cross is upside down. The Cross is a stumbling block to the world. The Cross is a scandal, a folly, an absurdity. And that’s all because the world is corrupt in its carnal desires—and has no room for the spiritual and the transcendent. 

If we should be making a "dishonest" exchange in our stewardship, it would be confessing our sins and exchanging the fires of hell for the mere pittance of a Hail Mary in penance.

Indeed, for many in the world this exchange in the confessional-- the right-side-up exchange-- is upside-down. So foolish is God's love in the eyes of an upside down world!

That said, I know that this year has been tough for you. And some ecclesiastical news has made things even tougher. The way that I have come to understand and find consolation in these days is by looking in Sacred Scripture. There, I remember the experience of the Israelites in the Exile. The Exile is the period where the Temple is destroyed and everything is taken away from the Israelites. Their worship, their way of life, and to some degree their identity—it is destroyed and they are carried off into Babylon and Assyria. The Exile. 

But the reason for the Exile was for their hearts to be torn open and a renewing of zeal and worship and faith to enter in. For some—some—this happened. And they returned singing and praising God with all the more zeal and praise. It was a time that was totally upside-down, but God made it right-side-up again. 

[As an aside, in the Novus Ordo, the first reading is taken from the Exilic period: from Jeremiah:

Woe to the shepherds
who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture,
says the LORD. 
Therefore, thus says the LORD, the God of Israel,
against the shepherds who shepherd my people:
You have scattered my sheep and driven them away. 
You have not cared for them,
but I will take care to punish your evil deeds. 
I myself will gather the remnant of my flock
from all the lands to which I have driven them
and bring them back to their meadow;
there they shall increase and multiply. 
I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them
so that they need no longer fear and tremble;
and none shall be missing, says the LORD.

I am convinced that the same is going on here. And God will make things right-side-up again. That’s His business.] 

Yes, for those who know about the Motu Proprio: the Successor of Peter has spoken. It seems upside-down. Indeed, Peter has spoken before—on one occasion, he was praised by the Lord for his great act of faith (“Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah!”). But on another occasion, he was chided and corrected by the Lord for his upside-down thinking (“Get behind me, Satan. You are not thinking as God does, but as men do.”) 

So, Peter has spoken. But we await Jesus’ response. 

In light of that, we continue in charity and zeal, but not anger. We may grieve, for there is great loss, great disappointment, and another exile—but not without hope. We must never despair! And we may question—but not in doubt, but in faith. 

Indeed, it is often the case in human history that those who are beloved of Christ are the first to suffer the Cross. John the Beloved Apostle; Mary, the Mother of Jesus; Mary Magdalene—they were all so, so beloved. And they were at the side of Jesus Christ, experiencing the pain of the Crucifixion as our Lord was crucified. 

Peter and the rest? Cowards who fled. 

But note: at the end of Peter’s life here on earth, at the end of his earthly pilgrimage, he was crucified. And he was crucified upside-down. 

Upside-down in crucifixion, but right-side-up in the eyes of the Lord. 

And that’s how we will be. The world may look at us as if we are upside-down, but we know the reality. We know The Way, and the Truth, and The Life. We know what is right-side-up, even if it leads us to the folly of an upside-down crucifixion. 

So long as we stay in communion in the Catholic Church and close to our Lord in faith, in hope, and in charity, we will be right-side-up and straight-away into heaven! 

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. +

Independence - Homily for the 14th Sunday in OT (The 4th of July, 2021)

Two hundred and forty-five years ago, the founders of this great nation signed the famous Declaration of Independence. It was an act against a tyrant, King George—an act, which the founders argued, was supported by the logic inherent in all men being created equal by God and given inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The founders argued that men, when their governments, which by nature are to support these basic truths, no longer support these rights, are given the power to change or even abolish that government. 

It is really quite an amazing founding document and I hope that our children and grandchildren know of it and the circumstances that surround it; to appreciate its significance and also to understand that when these men signed the document, they were putting their life on the line. Indeed, on July 4^th, 1776, there did not begin barbeque and celebrations with beverages and family. There began the eight long years of the Revolutionary War. The War of Independence. 

Ever since, one may rightly say that Americans have an independent streak to us. We have enshrined it not only in law, but we have fought for it at home and abroad. We even enshrine it in our movies: General George Patton fighting the Nazis; Rocky Balboa in Rocky IV, fighting the Russians; Will Smith in Independence Day… fighting aliens. 

It makes me think: of any people on earth, it would seem to me that we are the ones most oriented to engage in the Ultimate declaration of independence, the wage war against the ultimate tyrant: that is, against sin and the devil. 

Of course, you start talking about sin and the devil and some roll their eyes or begin to tune out—just as I’m sure many colonists in the early days rolled their eyes and began to tune out when some crazy prophets started dumping tea in a harbor, talking about how King George was a tyrant. But all, eventually, had to engage their intellect in that moment when things began to become desperate. For, it was from there that Independence was born: from the grace of the light of intellect—and desperation. 

In the Garden of Eden, the devil swayed the intellect of Adam and Eve by saying: “If you eat from this, you will become like gods.” What the devil was doing there was sowing doubt—doubt through the implication that God was holding something back—doubt of God the Father’s goodness. What Adam and Eve didn’t know, we do: that the devil is a tyrant. And all we need to do to come to such a clear conclusion is to place him in the scales of judgment with the Heavenly Father. 

Where did all the death, disease, disorder, doubt, and despair come from? The darkness? Did it not all come from the prince of darkness, which is the devil? Yes, he is the bringer of anger and envy and ingratitude and discord and discouragement. He would drive you to the desert of isolation through suggestion and lie and deceit and duplicity, offering you friendship and—when he got you there—throw the trap and accuse you of being wretched, where he would leave you forever. 

But our heavenly Father: he is the creator of all life. And who could have eternal life in heaven but through Him? He is Truth and clarity and light and that breath of fresh air that brings order and peace. He offers joy, deep joy, and establishes community through mercy and the embrace of love. Does He convict us so that we do not go astray and into the hands of the destroyer? Absolutely. But should we go astray, He sends His Son—not a foreigner or a low-ranking nobody—He sends His Son. And He sends Him as a Good Shepherd who goes in search and, when He finds us (and He always does if we should let Him), He carries us out of that desert and brings us lovingly home. 

So, who is the tyrant? 

When you and I were baptized, our parents and godparents entered into that ultimate declaration of independence. “Do you reject Satan?” asked the priest. “I do,” they said. It was a moment of rebellion against the tyrant. Then came the war. The spiritual battle, as Paul says: “I have fought the good fight.” 

Would you say that your spiritual life is characterized by a fight against the devil? When a prophet rose in your midst—whether recently or in the long-ago past—whether a priest or a friend or a family member or a stranger—when a prophet rose in your midst and called you on to a higher way of life, did you embrace that call like that of Paul Revere, or did you get angry and feel the prick of pride like the home-folk of Nazareth? 

“Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith,” Sacred Scripture recalls to us. Which is another way of saying, “Jesus was amazed at the lack of fight in them.” The Messiah had come to lead the battle—and it was a battle, one kingdom against another, the Kingdom of Light verses the powers of darkness—the Messiah had come and where were his soldiers? 

In many ways, the devil often retards the battle before it even begins in our hearts. The evil one says: “If you give yourself so whole-heartedly to God, you won’t be able to do whatever you want.” 

Punch that temptation in the nose. 

Because, you see, independence is not about getting to do whatever you want. Independence and freedom are about doing what is right and good and what we ought to do. 

So, yes, independence does bring dependence. The founders of this nation knew this. After the Declaration, they would have to depend on one another. Independence would depend on the rallying together of community and good will and a universal vision. But that’s how life and liberty and freedom would be preserved. 

The devil would have you think that depending on God would limit your freedom—when, really, depending on God is the very thing that protects your freedom. And your happiness. And your life. 

To rebel against Him, to sin, therefore, would not only be contrary to reason and our very existence, but it would even be against being American. For at the heart of who we are is a declaration that recognizes God. And that upon Him our life and our liberty, our happiness, and even our nation are entirely dependent.

In the Shade of the Tree - Homily for the 11th Sunday in OT (B)

 

We heard the beautiful parable of the mustard seed of this morning. 

A few days ago, after reading this parable about the seed and the growth of the tree and its shade, I decided to go for walk in Old Town. And I love walking in Old Town because, unlike the newer subdivisions, we have trees here. Large and beautiful ones—not the small, just-planted ones. And I was thankful for those large trees out there because it was really hot outside. Something like 95 degrees and sunny and humid—and it was doubly hot because I was wearing my black clothes (clerics) out there. So, as I was walking, I thanked God for those big trees out there because they provided that shade which is so nice and cool and which makes walking in Old Town Florissant so wonderful. 

In fact, as I was walking, I saw a few people working in their yards and they stopped and said, “Hey, Father!” and I enjoyed some conversations along the way. And those conversations took place not in the middle of the street under the blazing heat. They took place in the cool shade. And I said to myself, “Self, I think there’s a homily here.” 

* 

When Jesus talks about the mustard seed, He is firstly talking about Himself. He is the mustard seed. And He gives growth to and brings forth the tree—which is the Church. The Kingdom of God, therefore, is Jesus—and it is His Church. That’s the ultimate meaning of the parable. 

But notice: the tree grows from the seed. The tree looks different than the seed. By analogy, the Church is going to grow and develop over the ages. And therefore it will look different than it did as a seed—that is, as it was during the time of the Apostles. But here’s the thing: it’s the same tree. From the same seed. 

This is very important, this organic growth. Because this means that there’s no such thing as a “pre-Vatican church” or a “post-Vatican church.” It’s just one Church. Nor is there a “pre-Tridentine church” or a “post-Tridentine church”—Tridentine being about the Council of Trent. No, it’s just one Church. 

Has there been growth and development? Yes, absolutely. 

But, as soon as we see things that are totally contrary to the one universal Church—as soon as we start hearing things being taught that have never been taught before—we can get rid of those things. They are not part of the tree; they are a foreign and invasive species. 

So we talk about the “perennial teaching” of the Church. Another word is traditio, from the Greek, meaning “to hand on,” from which we get the word Tradition. So, for example, Saint Therese of Lisieux or Saint John Vianney or Saint Vincent de Paul or Saint Augustine—they should be able to come into the pews today and say, “Hey, I recognize this Church. It doesn’t look exactly like I remember it (because the Tree was a sapling in my day), but ah! it’s growing.” And when it comes to the teachings, they should be able to look at the Church’s teachings today and say: “Ah, yes! How wonderful! What you say today naturally flows from the seed of knowledge that we had at that time.” 

And that’s quite the contrast to them saying, “Huh. What you teach is odd. How did you come up with that?” 

* 

This is important, because what does the tree—what does the Church—provide? The shade. 

And what does the shade provide? Coolness. 

And I don’t mean “cool” like “hip,” no. (We are going to be anything but hip as Catholics. We oftentimes are the total contrary of being hip. We don’t chase after the fads of the passing world). 

The shade provides the protection against the heat. 

And what is the heat? The world. The heat of the day where there are those noonday devils. 

The Church, in her perennial teachings, in her prayerful life, in her reflection, and in her being one with Jesus—that’s what protects us from the world. And gives us strength and courage in the world. 

And that means that we must dwell in that shade. Which is what we just heard in the parable. It’s an often-overlooked detail, but it is a vital detail. It says, 

            The tree puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade. 

* 

What does it mean to dwell in this shade of this Tree which is the Catholic Church? 

To dwell in it means, first, to do what you are doing right now: you come to Holy Mass and it is a place of prayer and coolness and rest and conversation and you are protected. 

But it also means to reflect upon the teachings of the Church.   

And it’s not enough to simply rely on experts to give you the meanings. Just open up the Catechism. It is one of the beautiful things of the Catechism: it tells you clearly what the teachings are. And you don’t have to be an expert to read it. And you can rely on that and trust in that and dwell in that because it protects you from the craziness and confusion that is in the heat of the world. 

* 

A final thought. 

The birds that were in the tree in its shade. They had an ancient, spiritual meaning: the angels. The birds, of course, are real beings that fly in the sky—but, as they are beings that flew, they were almost seen to have a spiritual quality to them. Artists would often depict angels, therefore, with wings. They saw a kind of “lightness” in the birds; an ability not only to fly, but to be above the earth’s difficulties and its painful heat. 

Why do I mention all of this? 

Because the good angels are also here. 

We recently celebrated Corpus Christi. And we were reminded on that great solemnity about our communion with Jesus in the Eucharist and our communion with all Catholics throughout the universal Church throughout the world. 

But there is one more element that we must reflect upon: and that is that we are in communion with the holy angels of God. 

This is important, because what do the angels do? Their names often give it away: they are called guardian angels. They protect you in this shade in the Church. They help you! 

But when was the last time you prayed to your guardian angel? Do you remember your guardian angel? Have you asked for his help? Or St. Michael the Archangel?—the one who protects us in battle and is our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil. When was the last time we called upon Saint Michael to help us in the heat of this Day? 

Yes, brothers and sisters, our Lord is giving us many gifts. We are walking in grace. He protects us and gives us some rest. Because in that shade things are better: they are cooler and restful and contemplative; there is conversation; even an enjoyment of life. To enjoy life again: to stop and smell the flowers. – But you don’t stop and smell the flowers if you are always afraid. And you are afraid if you don’t believe that you are being protected. 

Our Lord is protecting you. He is with you. He is giving you grace. You are in the Church. You are surrounded by holy and beautiful angels. You can slow down. You can enjoy the shade of the Tree. +

Sacrificial Belonging - Homily for Corpus Christi

To whom do you belong?

This is a very interesting question. To whom do you belong? You may answer "I don't belong to anybody." But, really, the ones for whom you sacrifice-- that's to whom you belong. Parents, in a way belong to their children. You teens and young adults: you just finished up a hard semester. In a way, you have belonged to your school. To whom we sacrifice often indicates to whom we belong. Because with sacrifice comes belonging.

* 

Recently, I met up with an American missionary priest. He is a Catholic priest in China. We were celebrating the Holy Mass together. After Holy Mass, I had a chance to ask him about his ministry in China. “What’s it like over there?” I asked. 

He told me what you would expect: it’s hard. He can’t dress as a priest. It’s difficult to know who to trust. He is often on the run because of the government. Many priests and bishops are in jail. The Vatican Agreement with China has been a disaster. 

But the people are very faithful, he said. “I minister to about a hundred communities. And some of the people there haven’t seen a priest in twenty years. Which means they haven’t had Mass in twenty years. In many places, they gather in a home at night and hold a prayer vigil, asking God for the gift of a priest and the gift of the Holy Mass.” 

Can you imagine?

Interiorly, I started to realize that I was talking to a man—I had received Holy Communion with this man—who, a year from now, could possibly be imprisoned, tortured, killed. I saw his sacrifice as the same as Jesus’ sacrifice, and the sacrifices of the people he served. 

* 

As we continued to talk, the missionary priest told me that he “couldn’t wait to get back.” 

“You know, Anthony,” he said, “it is easier to keep the faith in Communist China than in the United States.” 

I looked at him funny. 

 “Well,” he said, “there you can see the enemy and you know its attacks clearly. Avoid the government. That’s easy. But here in the U.S., the enemy is often hidden and it slowly wears away without one knowing it. I’ve seen Chinese Catholics move from China and come to the U.S.—faithful Catholics in China who have been persecuted and some tortured—and yet when they come here, they fall away from the faith.”  

I asked him: Why do people fall away so quickly in the U.S.? What’s the hidden enemy?  

“Choice,” he said. “We have so many choices in the United States. Phone carriers, fast-food places, cars to drive, experiences to have, employment, even Catholic parishes and priests—we have so many choices that we expect and demand choice and the catering to our desires, so much so that it has become fossilized, engrained in our lifestyle. Who in your parish, if they had to drive for an hour to Holy Mass, would drive an hour for Holy Mass? The enemy in this is that religion itself has devolved into just another choice on par with any other choice. And when that happens—if Mass is just another choice like a job or a counselor or a sport—why choose it at all?” 

In China, it is very clear that religion is not just one choice among many, precisely because of the fact that if you make that choice you will be arrested and killed. 

I can’t wait to get back, he said. 

* 

When you and I were children growing up, the world was our oyster and all options were available. 

But the hallmark of our growing into maturity and adulthood was to let go some of those choices, to sacrifice one thing for another, and to then be committed. A mature, married person, for example, has sacrificed and continues to sacrifice all other options for this one person. And that choice is above all other choices and circumstances—sickness or health, good times or bad. 

Sacrifice, far from being a fearful thing of destruction, is actually the healthy process of maturation and the insertion point into community. When the man and woman get married, the two become one. And in that community they can say to each other: “I belong to you and you belong to me. We are one. We are in communion.” 

Sacrifice is also the protection of that communion. In order that no man or woman may separate them, they must sacrifice the desire for any other man and woman, and thus preserve the marriage. Indeed, this exclusivity helps to define the marriage: the spouses can say to each other, “I belong to you and to no other.” No other person. No other job. No other possession. I belong to you and you to me. 

By analogy, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, far from being a fearful thing of destruction of a precious Sunday morning, is actually the healthy process of maturation and the insertion point into community. When we receive the Eucharist in Holy Communion, we become one with Jesus and He with us. You say to Jesus: Jesus, I belong to you and you belong to me. And Jesus, in His Sacrifice, says And I belong to you and you belong to me, too. 

Sacrifice protects that communion. As the First Commandment says, You will have no other gods. The Commandments also define that communion, just as Jesus said: You are my friends if you keep my Commandments. Keeping the Commandments, which necessarily requires sacrifice, is a prerequisite for communion. Without sacrifice, there is no communion; just as without sacrifice in marriage, there is no union. The priest points this out when he says, “Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God the almighty Father.” 

*

Here, we come to a very decisive moment. 

Some live in fear and always keep their options open. The finality of a sacrifice is terrifying. And so, a family invites their daughter over for Sunday dinner but she hedges because there might be a better offer. A guy dates a girl but balks on popping the question because he doesn’t want to be pinned down. But that lack of a commitment is a commitment. And there is a side-effect to choosing indecision: isolation. 

Some go further and think they can choose anything—that God requires nothing from me, no sacrifice, and only a nominal belonging such that any choice, even a choice against His Commandments, is acceptable.

I think of Flannery O'Connor's words here when, at a dinner-party with some fallen away Catholics, faced the daunting task of defending the Eucharist, quote: 

I then said, in a very shaky voice, 'Well, if it's a symbol, to hell with it.' That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence...; all the rest of life is expendable.

Consider here the Communion of Saints. 

Can a Catholic politician who advocates the killing of infant children really consider himself in communion with Saint Gianna? Or even with our Lord who says Let the little children come to me and do not prevent them? 

Can a Catholic priest who actively subverts and casts doubt on perennial Church doctrine concerning sexuality seriously consider himself in communion with Saint John Vianney or Saint Charles Lwanga? Or even with our Lord who says, It would be better that a millstone be tied around your neck and hurled into the sea than to teach these little ones to sin. 

Can anyone present themselves to Holy Communion and not at least pause and consider our brother and sister Catholics in China who sacrifice all and would sacrifice all to have just one Sunday Mass? 

The opening words of our Lord’s ministry are important here. Repent and believe. That Catholic politician, that doubting priest, that lukewarm Catholic—any sinner—they can all receive and enter into Holy Communion if they simply offer the sacrifice of repentance. I’m sorry I cheated on you, Lord. I want to belong with you again. 

* 

This morning, Our Lord gives us the great celebration of Corpus Christi—that is, the Body of Christ. It is a celebration of the Eucharist, the Body of Christ (which we receive at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass), and it is also a celebration of the Catholic Church, the Mystical Body of Christ, which is the place and also the effect of this Holy Communion. 

At the end of the Holy Mass, we will have a Eucharistic Procession. It is not simply a parade. What we are saying in this procession—what God is saying—is that this neighborhood belongs to Jesus. This community belongs to Jesus. We belong to Jesus and we are one in Jesus. This Communion is our communion. We live a sacrificial belonging—which we call Love, true Love—and we are inviting you to join us. To enter into communion with the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, and to receive the bread of angels, the Eucharist, our Holy Communion, the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus, which is called Corpus Christi.

And before we go out and do that, let's take a moment and answer the questions by which I started this homily. To whom do you belong? To whom do you sacrifice?

The Essential Oil, the Necessary Spirit - Homily for Pentecost 2021

 + At the heart of our Catholic faith is the heavenly Father and His beloved Son, Jesus Christ, whose love for each other is so perfect, so infinite, so eternal, and so personal, that this Love is God, the Third Person of the Most Holy Trinity, and we call Him the Holy Spirit. 

The question is: What does He do? And is he essential? 

* 

When I was growing up, I learned about the Holy Spirit when I was learning about Confirmation, but the extent of my learning was that the Holy Spirit is a fluffy dove. Or, if you are dancing, you had to leave room for the Holy Spirit. As a seventh grader, I didn’t care too much about either thing. And I certainly didn’t see Him as something essential. 

I mean, I believed that we were saved by Jesus and His Cross—but, really, what more was necessary? In a way, I was Protestant. 

Later on, in my 20s, I discovered something Jesus said. He said, “It is necessary that I ascend. Unless I go away, the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, will not come to you. But if I go, I will send Him to you.” 

This struck me. Why was this necessary if I was already saved by Jesus’ cross? Or, to put it another way, why was it even necessary that I be baptized at all if I was already saved by the Cross? Why the extra step of baptism if the Cross has saved me? 

These questions and the subsequent answers would lead to my intellectual conversion. 

To put it briefly, the Father and the Son do not only want to save us. They do. But they also want to sanctify us. They want to make us holy. 

* 

So, I started looking into this Holy Spirit and I soon discovered the Holy Spirit is the one who enacts the Father’s plan and makes it effective. 

In the beginning, it is the Holy Spirit that hovered over the waters of creation and brought forth light and order. It is the Holy Spirit, also called the “ruah”—the breath of God—that the Father breathed into the nostrils of Adam and gave him life. It is the same breath that came as a mighty wind and separated the waters of the Red Sea. It is the Holy Spirit who gave King Solomon wisdom and the holy prophets sacred and authoritative utterance. It is the Holy Spirit that overshadowed the Blessed Virgin Mary and it was by His power that Mary miraculously conceived. It is the Holy Spirit that sanctifies John the Baptist in the womb of Elizabeth who rejoices when Mary visits with the Holy Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit that is given to the Apostles in a particularly unique way this day, the fiftieth day since Easter, which we call Pentecost. 

It is the Holy Spirit who inspires the Sacred Scriptures. The forgiveness of sins happens by the power of the Holy Spirit. Bread and wine are consecrated and transformed into Jesus by the epiclesis of the Holy Spirit. A man is ordained to be a priest of Jesus Christ by the gift of the Holy Spirit. And a man and woman miraculously become one by the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit. And they are called to be holy—hence the Sacrament is called Holy Matrimony. 

It is the Holy Spirit who guards the Church, especially in Her teachings on faith and morals so that, when the Church teaches, it is Jesus whom we hear. For, “Whoever hears you [Apostles], hears me;” for the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Truth and you will know the Truth. 

Indeed, without the Holy Spirit, there is no holiness. There would only be morality and wishes. But no actual power in the Sacraments or the Scriptures or the Teachings. 

And why all of this? 

It is not only to save us, but so that we may be holy. 

And what does it mean to be holy? To be holy means to live and to participate in union with the very inner life of the Father and the Son. 

* 

This changed everything for me. 

I understood Baptism. Baptism was not a rite of passage. It is where the graces of the Cross are poured into the soul and that soul becomes the dwelling place of God, the temple of the Holy Spirit. Hence, you are baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. 

And why? To save you. And to make you holy. 

Confirmation: Confirmation is not about me confirming my faith and choosing my religion. (I do that every day by choosing whether or not I will follow His Commandments, go to Mass, and so on). No, Confirmation was about the Holy Spirit coming upon you and me and orienting our souls so that our holiness may lead to others’ salvation and sanctification. 

Hence, you chose a Confirmation saint. Or, actually: the saint chose you. 

Shoot, even the name, Christian, which is shared by Christ, comes from the Greek—Christos—meaning “anointed one”—and that anointing isn’t simply with oil. It is the divine gift of Love between the Father and the Son. The Holy Spirit. 

It’s about holiness. 

* 

The soul, therefore, that desires this Spirit of God will attain the deepest treasures and great spiritual fruits. And you will know when you are receiving the Holy Spirit by those very fruits. (Just as we know a tree by its fruits.) Those fruits are joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, perseverance in suffering, gentleness, faith, modesty, chastity, and self-control. 

A soul that is filled with the spirit of the world—that is, the pursuits of worldly treasures, self-comforts, self-pursuits, bitterness, resentment, agnosticism, lukewarmness—when a soul is filled with these harsh spirits, they will struggle to receive the Holy Spirit. 

How can the Comforter come to the one who seeks worldly comforts and has no room for divine comfort? How can the Counsellor come to the one who has no need or desire for counsel? How can the Holy Spirit be an Advocate for the soul in sin if the soul does not acknowledge their sin? How can the gift of God be received by the soul who thinks there is no need of the Gift of the Holy Spirit? How can the gentle coolness of the breath of God find a home in a harsh soul? How can such a soul hear His whisper in prayer when the soul is filled with the loudness of the world? 

How can we grow in holiness—how can we become saints—unless we understand that the Holy Spirit is essential? 

* 

Final words of Jesus come to my heart. He says: “Ask. Ask and you shall receive.” 

Those who ask and who make room in their hearts and minds for the Gift of the Holy Spirit will receive. 

That is our prayer now. “Come, Holy Spirit!” 

That’s all you have to say. “Come, Holy Spirit!” 

And when you do that, you will discover that sweet anointing from above, that fragrance of God, which inspires gratitude and an ability to carry any size cross. You will grow in holiness. You will start to become a saint. And you will see Him as the saints have confessed Him in the Creed: as the “Lord and the Giver of Life who is worshipped and glorified.” 

+