Note: This post appears as the January 3, 2021, bulletin column (the Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God) for St. Michael and St. Albert parishes.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been smitten with the image of the pregnant Virgin Mary. When Jodi began showing with our first baby, I was struck with a notion that may be foreign to women undergoing the physical changes that accompany incubating new humans, but that hopefully has occurred to other men: Pregnant women are beautiful. The glow of the expecting mother is long established and oft reported, but the bodily transformation is no less captivating. A luminous mother-to-be, her belly impossibly round with child, calls to mind the miraculous, celestial beauty of the stars and planets—even drawing us into orbit around her.
This is appropriate, since she bears the future of the species, the planet, even the universe, within her womb.
If that’s true of my bride, it’s truer for our Blessed Mother. Mary’s circumstance was more difficult than most first pregnancies, but her trust and her joy were no doubt more complete. I see this young woman, innocent and unassuming, bearing the changes and challenges confronting her with simplicity and obedience, radiating the life of God within her while pouring herself out in service to her cousin, Elizabeth, and later, to her husband Joseph.
Note: This post appeared in the St. Michael Catholic Church bulletin for Sunday, October 18, 2020.
In case you haven’t notice, election season is in full swing. Pollsters, pundits and politicians are slicing and dicing the American people to predict what is likely to happening on Election Day and afterward. Republicans versus Democrats. Liberals versus conservatives. We are counted and calculated by culture, color and creed—to what end?
My son’s theology teacher recently gave me a copy of a book I’ve meant to read for years now: Society and Sanity by Frank Sheed. I started it last night, and for a book written in the 1950s, its relevance even in the first few pages is staggering. Sheed opens his book by making a simple and eloquent case: In order to create a society in which we humans can live together in peace, happiness and freedom, we must know what it means to be human.
We need a clear understanding of what we are and why we are before we can clearly conceive of our happiness and how to achieve it.
My bride left for work early this morning. She was up at 5 AM or thereabouts; I was vaguely aware of running water in the bathroom and a blaze of light from the lamp on her nightstand. I believe I said goodbye when she left, but did not rise.
When my alarm sounded at 6 AM, I was again sleeping soundly. For years now I have maintained that my best sleep invariably comes in the hours just after sunrise, and this morning was no exception. I extinguished the alarm, thought briefly about getting out of bed, then reset the alarm for 6:30, rolled over and closed my eyes.
Immediately pangs of guilt pierced my chest: You should get up. You’re wasting the day. You have prayers to say and work to do.
Three weeks ago, I wrote about the importance of getting our hands dirty as disciples of Jesus—of entering into the mess and sufferings of another person and walking with them, loving them where they are and leading them toward holiness and heaven. Of course, to lead someone to heaven we have to be headed that way ourselves, and holiness is a high bar. Even Jesus himself acknowledges that for man it is impossible.
Ever since the Fall, when Adam and Eve first saw themselves as vulnerable and covered their nakedness in fear, we all tend to protect ourselves. We hold a bit of ourselves back, even from those we love. Why? Because we don’t want to appear reckless, foolish or naïve. Because we don’t want to be abandoned and left with nothing. Because we secretly wonder to ourselves, If I give away everything in love, who will love me?Continue reading →
Your opponent the devil is prowling around like a roaring lion looking for [someone] to devour. – 1 Peter 5:8
Woke this morning on the wrong side of the bed. Shuffled to the living room to pray with my bride. Opened the missal to the Tenth Thursday in Ordinary Time (Year II) and began to proclaim the first reading, only for Jodi to say that her copy of “Living With Christ” had a different reading.
Of course. It’s the memorial of St. Barnabas, apostle.
I turned to the back of the missal and found June 11. Sure enough, the first reading was about St. Barnabas, from the Acts of the Apostles. I read the responsorial psalm, then began the gospel.
“Um,” said Jodi, “I have a different gospel.”
I sighed and shrugged. “Well,” I said, exasperated, “I don’t know what it is…what do you have?” Continue reading →