A Lesson in Humility

Here is a wonderful article I read this morning.  Worth the read.

Father James Martin S.J, a Jesuit priest who met Philip Seymour Hoffman when the actor came for advice about a role had the sad task of presiding over the actor's funeral Mass.

According to People magazine Hoffman first contacted the cleric for help on the Labyrinth Theater Company's production of "The Last Days of Judas Iscariot" which Hoffman directed in 2003. Martin also advised the Academy Award winning actor on his role as Father Flynn in the 2008 film "Doubt" which also netted him another nomination.

The pair hung out together at New York City's Saint Ignatius church, where the Priest explained how a priest celebrates Mass. Sadly it was in the same Church that he led Hoffman's funeral Mass.

"He was a lovely person, very down-to-earth," Martin told the magazine. "I learned about humility from him. He never put on airs. Whenever he talked about being in a movie, he would just say, 'Yeah, I got this job.' He would never say, 'I'm the lead.' Or 'I'm starring in "Capote".' Then I'd read about it in the papers and learn what it was."

"He was really fun to be with. He was so intent on getting everything right. I remember he asked if a priest would have 3 x 5 cards during a homily. Small details. He listened to what I had to say, but he also knew his craft. When you watched him act, you got a sense of what the word 'vocation' really means. He was born to do this."

Hoffman was raised a Catholic and attended confirmation classes near his hometown of Rochester, NY.

On his Facebook page, Martin posted a photo of Hoffman and the cast of  Judas Iscariot. Everyone had been given a sweatshirt with a line from the play in which a character explains his definition of Heaven. In the photo, the actor is beaming wearing his personal sweatshirt which read, "Eat Fried Chicken and Mashed Potatoes and Feel the Sun on Your Face."

Mk 7:1-13 Clean From The Inside Out

Tuesday of the Fifth Week in Ordinary Time
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When the Pharisees with some scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around Jesus, they observed that some of his disciples ate their meals with unclean, that is, unwashed, hands.  (For the Pharisees and, in fact, all Jews, do not eat without carefully washing their hands, keeping the tradition of the elders...) 

It disturbs me to no end when I read about the Syrian war.  Both sides appear set on victory and total annihilation.  But what disturbs me even more is when reporters distort the truth by making the claim there was a moment of "humanity" during a cease fire.  A moment of humanity?  What exactly does that mean and why is humanity defined by a tiny - brief - cease fire and not by an ongoing attempt at total destruction?

Aren't we more geared towards destroying our enemies rather than showing mercy towards them?  Aren't we more prone to a shouting match than to a moment of silence?  Don't we prefer hard-hitting football over ballet?  Come on!  Isn't this our true - and yes, fallen - nature?  So of course the Lord is inviting us to evolve.  You must decrease; I must increase. 

Clean on the outside.  Syria's president wears very expensive clothes.  His hair is well clipped.  His fingernails are well manicured.  He always looks sharp on TV.  Now if being smart were as simple as looking smart, then I  think I would be the smartest person in the world (just kidding).  And if being beautiful simply meant having super white teeth and a wonderful smile, then we could all so easily make ourselves look beautiful. But we are not all beautiful.  Even some of the most amazing models in the world are not always the most beautiful people in the world.  I remember a girlfriend I once had.  She was stunning.  But when she opened her mouth it was all about her.  She was everything, but beautiful.  She was prideful, boastful, arrogant and obnoxious.  And although I was exactly like her, I was surprised how it turned me off to her.

In today's Gospel passage, the Lord is inviting the Pharisees and scribes to go deeper, much deeper, in their relationship with God and sinners.  Dig deeper!, He insists.  Cut through the superficial and get to the bottom of it all; that is, what does it mean to be holy?  It cannot mean to be perfect. It must mean something else.

Blessed are the meek and humble of heart.  There is nothing wrong with looking good.  But there is definitely something wrong with not being good.  And we know what it means to be good.  Christ said, "Why do you ask me about what is good?  There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, keep the commandments" (Mt 19:17).

The Lord showed compassion in our human misery.  He was humble in our presence. He did not exploit the weak. He raised them up.   He did not subjugate the sinner.  He released him.  Not once did the "well-off' lift a finger for the downtrodden.  They had their chance and blew it.  The Lord, on the other hand, insisted on lifting his entire body up high on the Cross for them. 

Holiness requires humility; humility requires faith; faith requires grace.  And grace works from the inside out.

Mk 6:53-56 The Tassel

Monday of the Fifth Week in Ordinary Time
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After making the crossing to the other side of the sea, Jesus and his disciples came to land at Gennesaret and tied up there.  As they were leaving the boat, people immediately recognized him.  They scurried about the surrounding country and began to bring in the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. ...[T]hey laid the sick in the marketplaces and begged him that they might touch only the tassel on his cloak...

Only the tassel on his cloak.   Some religious people claim that Catholics worship statues and commit idolatry.  They don't.  They simply have an appreciation for the five senses God has given them. 

From the very beginning, the Lord permitted people to touch him and be cured by him, even if it meant simply touching his tassel.  How can we forget the young woman who touched the cloak of the Lord and was immediately cured; and still more, was unaware of who had touched him? 

What does this all mean?  

And as many as touched it were healed.  The touching of the tassel and the power emitted by it shows to what extent the Lord is willing to help us.  He wants to help us.  He wants to be a part of our story. 

Do you want to be helped?  Then allow your faith to challenge you.  Reach out to the Lord.  If it helps, then touch his image.  Kiss his picture.  Embrace a statue of him.  Allow your senses to get closer to the Lord.  There is nothing wrong with that. 

I think we have become very sensitive to the criticisms of some Christians, especially when it comes to sacred images and objects. 
Catholics do not adore them.  They venerate them.  There is a difference.  Look it up.  There is no shame in a mom or dad kissing a picture of their beloved son.  There is no shame in a girlfriend or boyfriend hugging a letter written by their loved one.  Go ahead.  It will do your mind, body and soul a lot of good.

We are not angels.  We are humans.  We need to see, touch, hear, taste and smell the goodness of the Lord.  We need to get outside and see the great outdoors.  We need to speak face-to-face with the Lord.  We need to place our hand on His face.  Go ahead.  It's okay.

We, humans, think we are great because we do so many things indoors.  We think we are so clever because we created the Internet and cable TV.  We think we are so smart because we have smartphones.  But did you know there are over 70 million Americans taking mind altering drugs?  Why?  Good question!  Maybe, just maybe, it's because they are not going outside enough, and are spending too much of their time in the world they have created and not enough in the world God has created.  They are not touching, hearing, seeing, tasting and smelling the goodness of the Lord.

The tassel is the beginning of this story.  It is not the end of it.  Power did not come from the tassel but from the one who wore it.  But it would be a mistake to think the tassel was inconsequential.  It was not.  It is part of our story.  We need to touch, to see, and to hear just as much as we need to believe and to love.

Lord, open my eyes to your Word.  Open the eyes of my heart to do your Will.

Mt 5:13-16 Salt Of The Earth

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
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Jesus said to his disciples:  "You are the salt of the earth.  But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned?"

You are the salt of the earth.  Compared to other life forms, human life may be brief, but it does not come close to being insignificant.  Humans may be short in stature, but they are far from being left unnoticed.

The Lord knew this, and that is why He told us:  "You are the salt of the earth." 

Humans give excitement, adventure, purpose and meaning to earth.  If we were not here, then earth would be a beautiful waste.  It would be like a falling tree that made no sound in the forest.  You are the salt of the world.   What a "flavorable" way of saying, "You make all the difference in the world to me."

You are the light of the world.  The Lord is truly a poet.  It is His way of saying, "You light up my life." 

Humans can bring so many good things to life, but only if we have the light of faith that leads our thoughts, words and actions.  Each human being is like a tiny Big Bang.  We can create where there is nothing.  We can bring light where there is only darkness.  We can bring hope where only despair reigns.  We, as Christians, are called to do what is apparently humanly impossible: bring peace on earth and end world poverty.

"Light shines through the darkness for the upright; he is gracious and merciful and just.  Well for the man who is gracious and lends, who conducts his affairs with justice.  He shall never be moved; the just one shall be in everlasting remembrance.  An evil report he shall not fear; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.  Lavishly he gives to the poor; his justice shall endure forever; his horn shall be exalted in glory" (Ps. 112).

The Lord has given his people an arduous task.  We can either carry it upon our shoulders, one soul at a time, and make him proud, or let it fall to the earth and force another to carry it.

P.S.  Please join me and Mike Murray tomorrow afternoon at 1:00 pm on Catholic Radio.

Mk 6:30-34 They Began To Teach Me Many Things

Saturday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time
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When Jesus disembarked and saw a vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

This past Wednesday I celebrated Mass at Ursuline Academy, an all-girls high school in Dallas, Texas.  A sophomore was presented with an award for her outstanding testimony of service towards  the less fortunate.  As in the case of so many who serve, the less fortunate often turn out to be the ones serving  the less fortunate.  This is my experience, at least.

Here is Katie's written testimony. 

The community service project that I have been blessed to participate in this year is called the Refugee Outreach Program, which takes place every Sunday after the 10 o’clock Mass at St. Patrick's Catholic Church in Lake Highlands. Every week, a group of catechists and teen leaders meet to serve food to the refugees and to teach ESL, technology skills, and faith formation classes. There are about three hundred refugees at St. Patrick from Thailand, Burma, Eritrea, and other countries in which Catholics are persecuted, oppressed, or forced to leave. My particular job is as a teen leader in a classroom of thirty-five students  preparing for their First Reconciliation and Communion. My students range from seven to sixteen years old, due to the fact that some could not receive the Sacraments in their home country. Honestly, I had no idea what kind of gravity this project would have in my life when I signed up for it. I had heard about it from a couple friends and from a flyer on the Campus Ministry board. I’d like to say I received a huge sign from God, or that my undying passion for social justice led me to sign up or something like that, but I would be lying—and in the eloquent words of a child I teach, “lying makes Jesus sad!” However, God has a still, small voice, and I have no doubt that He has led me to this job and the children that I teach, not only to serve them, but to open my own eyes to the beauty of my own faith and the indescribable love of God for every one of his children.

As far as gifts of self that I have contributed, I have found that many of the gifts God has already given me have come in handy—patience (which as the third child, I have a lot of) to handle all the shenanigans that little boys bring to the classroom; the ability to listen to lots of talking and then respond, natural to any Italian; and of course, my moments of immaturity which really help me relate to them! On a more serious note, in my two years so far at Ursuline, my wonderful theology teachers, campus ministers, priests, and friends have helped change me from a girl who really knew nothing about the Catholic faith to a girl in love with the Church and everything about it. When you’re in love, you just have to tell everyone about it. So really, this project has only been a natural response to what God has given me, and I thank Him every single day for showing me to it.

If I had to describe my experiences with the Refugee Program in three words, I would choose ‘enlightening’, ‘transformative’, and ‘beautiful’. It has been enlightening because I have gotten to see what true faith looks like—these people literally left everything behind in their home countries to live very meager lives in the United States, all so that they could be free to follow Christ. Many parents that I encounter do not speak English and have to work demanding jobs to provide for their family. They have sacrificed so much. It is ‘transformative’ work because I am challenged to be more like my children—little girls and boys that know God is their refuge throughout everything they have been through at such a young age. Some children have parents that work during the day, but they still take the bus service provided to go to Mass with their brothers and sisters. They truly have childlike faith. Finally, ‘beautiful’. There are so many reasons why the children, their parents, and everyone I work with reflect the beauty of God. A lot of times, it’s through laughter. At this very moment, as I am writing this response, I am wearing multiple stickers that one girl decided looked better on me than on her Advent wreath.

The question “what feelings did you experience regarding this project” is beyond a loaded question!! I once read Story of a Soul by St. Therese of Lisieux. I remember her saying that some of her experiences would lose their meaning if they were put into words. That’s dead on for me. Some feelings, like when the children come up to me at Mass and want to talk to me, or when I read a nine year old’s explanation of why Jesus died on the cross, or when a boy asks me to explain the Eucharist—these things can only be described as the love of God made tangible. But I guess I could also say ‘terrifying’—yes, terrifying— because it’s like God is telling me, “hi, Katie, here are my beloved little children, and you get to teach them about me, my mother, and my bride. Don’t mess up.” Talk about unworthy! But I guess that’s what Serviam is all about.  In the grand scheme of things, I can’t bring the children out of poverty. I surely can’t teach them about every beautiful thing there is to know about the faith. And I will never sell some of them on my new haircut. Instead, I believe that to live Serviam is to be aware of the incredible responsibility entrusted to each of us as Christians, and to respond with everything we have—whatever that may be—while trusting that the God who led us to serve His people will give us the strength we need.

Mk 6:14-29 It Could Have Gone Down Differently

Friday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time 
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King Herod heard about Jesus, for his fame had become widespread, and people were saying, "John the Baptist has been raised from the dead; that is why mighty powers are at work in him." ...But when Herod learned of it, he said, "It is John whom I beheaded.  He has been raised up."

Herod liked John.  I have always found Herod to be a man way ahead of his time.  He is easily relatable among the New Testament figures and by far the most "modern" in his thoughts and actions: Young and powerful. Money hungry.  Power hungry. Vane.  Easily persuaded.  Easily seduced.  And most likely addicted to drugs and alcohol.

But Herod had a soft spot for religion and was intrigued by John the Baptist.  We are told he enjoyed listening to him.  But why?  What was the Baptist saying?  Most likely what Herod's closest aides did not have the courage to say:  the truth.

Herod liked John.  And I think if he had had a little more time with him, then things may have turned out for good.  I believe Herod was at a tipping point, and Herodias knew it, that is why she moved in for the kill.  She knew his weak spot, his pride and lust, and she took advantage of it.

So on that fateful night, and before friends and dignitaries, Herod made a promise to his step-daughter, "Ask of me whatever you wish and I will grant it to you... even to half of my kingdom." 

The trap had been set.  The wolf in sheep's clothing was let loose.  The lamb in camel's hair was led to the slaughter.

The truth requires time.  Lies require quick thinking.  When will we learn from our past mistakes?  When will we learn from our ancestors mistakes?     

He blew his chance.   Herod came so close to discovering the Gospel of Life, the Gospel of Truth, the Gospel of Joy.  He even had the greatest prophet of the greatest man in the world in his own home, albeit in his basement, locked up and hidden away. 

How could Herod have been so...?  You fill in the blank.  But we know his life would have been so different if he had listened to John, and not his wife!  We know his reputation would have grown to legendary proportions if he had said to the Lord, and not his step-daughter, "Ask of me whatever you wish and I will grant it to you."  Christ would have told him what he told another rich young man:  Sell all that you have, give the money to the poor, and come follow me.  How inspiring would that have been?  I know Herod had it in him.  He was crazy enough to do it. 

At the same time, let's not forget how far John got.  He actually made it - worked his way -  into the King's palace!  Did he get in trouble on purpose?  Did he say what he said with a goal in mind?  Was he willing to do whatever it took to get into the palace and next to the King?  I think so.   And maybe St. Paul followed his example when he said and did all that he could to get to Rome and appear before the emperor.

I feel for Herod.  He was trying to do a balancing act, and for a while there it could have gone either way: towards John or towards Herodias; towards life or towards death.  How sad, especially since he had grown so fond of John.  The prophet must have reminded him of his younger days, when fearlessness and "manliness" were supreme.  Hey, you don't get to be king by sitting on your hands.

Am I still walking a tightrope?  Am I too worried about what others think of me? 

Well, the one who really lost his head that day was King Herod, not John the Baptist.  John was fearless and manly because he was Godly.  Hey, you don't get to heaven by sitting on your hands either.

Mk 6:7-13 Take Nothing With You

Thursday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time
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Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two and gave them authority over unclean spirits.  He instructed them to take nothing for the journey but a walking stick - no food, no sack, no money in their belts.  They were, however, to wear sandals but not a second tunic.

I arrived at my new home, Getsemani, on October 14th, 1993.  The flight to Novara, Italy was long and difficult.  I was scared and felt completely out of place.  Just three months ago I had quit my job, broken up with my girlfriend and left behind nearly all of my earthly possessions, including my brand new car.  My destination at that time was Cheshire, Connecticut, and the novitiate of the Legionaries of Christ. 

I thought leaving my career and family was the toughest decision I would ever make in my life.  Little did I know I would be making tougher decisions, and sooner than I ever imagined.  For now, though, I was able to handle all my fears and trembling about my vocation to religious life.  I have no doubt in my mind I received a special "calming grace" from God. 

When I arrived in Connecticut, I did not immediately feel at home.  I knew in my heart this is where God wanted me to be, but it was and felt so different from what I had lived all my life.  There were no comforts, no privileges, no perks.  My room with consistent to that of a prison cell.  My clothes were numbered like a prisoner.  My day was dictated to the very last minute.  My mail was opened and read before I got it.  But somehow, I began to feel like I was part of a larger person, and so I fully embraced the fact that if I wanted to become a holy priest, then I would first need to become a humble man.  To this day I am still working on it. 

After two months in Cheshire, and to my relief, I began to sleep through the night. 

But on October 7th, 1993, I received news I was being transferred to a new location:  Getsemani, a former retreat center located nearby Novara, Italy.  The news stunned me.  And the way it was delivered stunned me even more.  I was called into the instructor's office (the superior's office) and was told to pack my bag.  He handed me an airline ticket and told me I was going to Italy.  He asked me if I had any questions.  Still in shock, I didn't - couldn't - say a word.  I thanked him the best I could and walked out of his office.  I shook my head in disbelief.  I was furious with God.  "I finally feel like I am home and now, after three months, you tell me I have to leave and move again???"  I went to the chapel to pray and for the very first time in my life as a seminarian I began to cry.  

After spilling my guts to God, I got up enough courage to go back to my superior and ask him why I was going to Italy.  He told me, in a very polite tone of voice, "Well, we don't send the best.  We don't send the worst.  So we are sending you." 

If there was any pride left in me, then it definitely got sucked out at that very moment.  But I left, vowing to myself, I would give my very best to God.

Take nothing for the journey.  I left for Milan, Italy, with no more than twenty dollars in my pocket.  Crazy!  But the amount given to me was the usual for overseas travel. Crazy!  As far as my belongings are concerned, well, everything fit in comfortably into someone else's old and beat up suitcase.  The brand new suitcases I bought and brought with me to Cheshire no longer belonged to me. I didn't mind.  It was part of our vow of poverty.  Nothing belonged to us, except for our Cross.

When I finally arrived to my new home, I had to look up to see it, literally.  Getsemani was "hanging" off of the side a huge mountain.  It over looked Casale Corte Cerro, a tiny industrial town situated near mountains and lakes.  But what really took my breath away was how my new home looked nothing like the old touristic postcards I had been shown.  It looked cannibalized and dilapidated. 

In the old days, there was a "funivia" or cable-car that would transport luggage and people to the front of the door.  When I inquired about it, the seminarians, who picked me up from the airport, laughed it off and said it had not worked in over thirty-years.  It was not the only thing busted.  I soon found out the furnace was not operational as well, and that meant there was no hot water for showers.  On January 16th, one of the coldest evenings I have ever experienced in my life, I wrote in my journal:  "I think I am going to die."

I didn't.  I actually grew stronger.

He instructed them.  There is so much more I could say, but for now I will simply say the two years I spent in Northern Italy will forever be very dear to me.  Yes, they were brutal years, but they were wonderful years: years full of tears and laughter; fears and victories, and moments of profound loneliness and camaraderie.  

The Lord knew what he was doing when He sent His men on their very first mission.  He was sending them as men, and hoping they would return as Apostles. 

They did.