Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Author: Father Pat Mulcahy

  • Tuesday of the Seventh Week of Ordinary Time

    Tuesday of the Seventh Week of Ordinary Time

    There’s been a lot of arguing in the Gospels these last couple of days.  Yesterday, the disciples were arguing with the scribes when both groups found they were incapable of casting a demon out of a person who was ill.  Today, we have the disciples arguing among themselves because they find they don’t understand Jesus’ message.

    All of this arguing betrays a real lack of growth in faith among those disciples.  They probably felt like, since they were in Jesus’ inner-circle, they should have the answers.  And perhaps they should, but to their defense, they hadn’t received the Holy Spirit yet.  In a real sense, they were still in formation, and they shouldn’t have been so afraid to ask Jesus for clarification.

    Jesus’ lesson to them then comes from him putting a little child in their midst.  Receive a child like this in my name, he tells them, and you receive me.  What’s the point of that?  Well, receiving a child in Jesus’ name is an act of service, because a child can do nothing but receive at that point in their life.  So serving others in Jesus’ name is what brings us to the Father.

    I think the take-away for us is that trying to be smarter than everyone else isn’t what shows that we are faithful people. Instead of arguing our point, we need to ask God to help us get the point. And we have to be ready to act on our faith, instead of arguing about it.

  • Saturday of the Sixth Week of Ordinary Time

    Saturday of the Sixth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    “Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.”  The writer of the letter to the Hebrews sums up for us this notion of faith, which can be so difficult to wrap our minds around.  What I love about the definition of faith that comes to us in this passage is that it seems to be telling us what we at some level already know: faith is a heritage.  The passage speaks of the faith of Abel, Enoch, and Noah, all stories we can readily read in our Old Testament, some of which we have heard during the past days as we have heard from the book of Genesis in our Liturgy of the Word, stories of men who had to really take a leap of faith because what they hoped for was unseen.  Only God could fulfill all their hopes and longings.

    The same, of course, is true for us.  We are living in difficult times.  The post-pandemic era has us still dealing with the disease and its medicines, supply-chain issues that have still not recovered from that time, and rising prices on everything in the grocery store.  There is uncertainty in the world, with wars being fought almost everywhere we can think of.  Our state and nation have political issues to the point that it’s hard to know which politicians are honest and which are not, and we almost hate to turn on the television and what’s happening today.  We also have our own personal family uncertainties, maybe loved ones are sick, or are suffering from depression.  Maybe relationships are strained.

    For all of us who live in these uncertain times, Jesus offers us hope.  We get a glimpse today at what we hope for and cannot now see: Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James and John.  This is a foretaste of the glory of the Resurrection, a glory that Jesus knew when he rose from the dead, and a glory that we yet hope for.  It’s not pie in the sky: we know that our promise in Christ is greater than any of the difficulties our time can bring us.  We know that faith is our heritage, and that that faith has led all of our forebears through times as difficult or more difficult than this.  Today, we have the promise of things hoped for and evidence of things unseen: Christ is our hope, yesterday, today and for ever.

  • Friday of the Sixth Week of Ordinary Time

    Friday of the Sixth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    About twenty or so years ago now, my home parish put on a production of the musical Godspell, and somehow I found myself part of the cast.  If you’ve ever seen the musical, you know that it is based on the Gospel of Matthew, the Gospel that we are reading during this current Church year.  I remember the first song of the musical was kind of strange to me at the time.  It’s called “Tower of Babel” and the lyrics are a hodge-podge of lots of philosophies and philosophers throughout time.  I didn’t get, at the time, the significance of the song, but I do now.  “Tower of Babel” represents the various schools of thought about God, over time.  It shows how philosophy at its worst has been an attempt to figure out God by going over God’s head, by leaving God out of the picture completely.

    Now the composer of the musical is an agnostic Jew, and so he didn’t really have great philosophy in mind when he wrote Godspell, but as often happens, God had the last word.  The “Tower of Babel” song ends abruptly and goes right into the second song of the musical, “Prepare Ye,” of which the major lyric is “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.”  The message that we can take from that is that the useless, and in some ways sinful, babbling of the pagan philosophers was once and for all settled by Jesus Christ.  If we want to know the meaning of life, if we want to know who God is, we have only to look to Jesus.  That’s true of most things in life.

    And Jesus didn’t build us a tower to get to God.  Instead, he mounted a cross.  The path to God, the path to heaven, was not some grand tower of our own design, but instead a cross on which our God laid down his life.  The way to get where he was going, the way to get where we need to go, is to take up that cross, lose our lives, and gain the kingdom.  Because what good is it to gain the whole world, to build a tower of our own design, and forfeit the life of heaven?

  • The Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

    The Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

    Today’s readings

    I saw a picture on Facebook the other day that a brother priest posted.  It was of Francis Cardinal George, of blessed memory, and it was of one of his quotes: “Yes, all are welcome in the Church, but on Christ’s terms, not their own.”  Now, that’s a typically blunt quote for Cardinal George, but as tends to be true of his blunt quotes, it definitely rings true.  Popular culture, though, would absolutely go berserk over this quote, because, in the popular mindset, it has the ring of judgment and hate and intolerance.

    If there’s an unforgivable sin in popular culture, it would definitely be intolerance.  And, in some ways, that’s a good thing: we should not be intolerant of others simply because they are different from us.  Jesus, in fact, ate with sinners, touched the leper, and died for all of us.  But, frankly, there is one thing that he never tolerated, and that is sin.  Sin is the thing that keeps us from God, keeps us from the Kingdom, keeps us from happiness in the truest sense.  Sin brings death, and Jesus came to put an end to both of those things.

    So you never hear about Jesus turning someone away simply because they were a sinner.  But after healing them in whatever way you also never hear him say: “Go, and keep on doing what you’re doing because I can accept that.”  No, he would say: “Go, and sin no more, so that nothing worse may happen to you.”  He can accept the sinner, but never the sin, he can embrace the broken, but insists on repentance.  Healing in any form is never permanent where repentance is rejected.

    So when we sing “all are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome in this place,” we are genuine in accepting everyone no matter where they are on the journey, but we are absolutely going to insist that they are on the journey.  The Church isn’t a museum for saints, but a hospital for sinners, as the Episcopal priest Morton Kelsey said, and in every hospital people are, hopefully, going to be healed, not stay the way they are.

    All of which brings us to today’s Liturgy of the Word.  Your homework assignment is to go home and reread today’s readings in light of the background I just gave.  I think they have a lot to say about the nature of sin, and healing, and life, and death.  In the Old Testament, one lives by keeping the commandments, and that’s a wonderful start, in fact, would that people would actually do that today.  But, as the Gospel reading tells us, the Gospel demands much more, a higher ethic based on love, and that is the demand placed before us on our journey of discipleship.

    So, do you count yourself among the blessed because you’ve never murdered anyone or participated in an abortion?  Well, that’s a good start, but if you’ve harbored anger against another person, if you have refused to forgive them, if you have marginalized a person because of their race, or their language, or their religion, or their sexual orientation, or because of a physical disability, if you have belittled people by sarcasm or bullying, if you have hated another person in any way at any time, then you’ve murdered them in your heart, you’ve violated the fifth commandment, and that’s not okay.

    Do you feel righteous because you’ve never had extramarital relations with another person?  Great, but that’s just a start.  If you have had lustful thoughts about another person, if you have looked at pornography, or fantasized about a relationship with another person; if you have nurtured a relationship that is improper in any way, then you have violated the sixth commandment, and it’s time to turn back.

    Do you feel that your word is good as gold because you have never lied under oath?  Again, it’s a good start, but if you’ve told a lie of any kind in any situation, even a white lie in most circumstances, if you have not told the whole truth when the truth was called for, if you have misrepresented the truth in any way or have not lived what you believe and profess, then you have violated the eighth commandment and have been dishonest in the truest sense.

    These are not words of comfort today, are they?  I bring these all out in my preaching today because Jesus makes them urgent.  I do it with a sense of deep humility, because I know that I have failed in some of these things more times than I’d care to admit.

    Jesus tells us today, “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”  That seems pretty harsh.  The Scribes and Pharisees had those six hundred or so laws by which they lived their lives, and some of them were pretty nit-picky if you ask me.  So how can we ever hope to enter the kingdom of heaven?  It just seems like an impossible task, doesn’t it?

    But what Jesus is asking of us isn’t to come up with a list of a whole lot more nit-picky rules.  Jesus is asking us to embrace the spirit of the law, and to live it with integrity.  That too is daunting, but the good news about choosing to live that kind of righteousness is that it comes with grace.  It comes with the gift of the Holy Spirit poured out on us to live the Gospel.  We have to pray for that grace every day, and we have to strive to live the rather rigorous righteousness that Jesus calls for in today’s Scripture readings.

    As the writer of Sirach in our first reading tells us, this kind of righteousness is a choice that we must make.  He says,

    He has set before you fire and water
    to whichever you choose, stretch forth your hand.
    Before man are life and death, good and evil,
    whichever he chooses shall be given him.

    So, Jesus welcomes us all to this hospital for sinners, and he invites us to partake of its healing.  We can’t just keep on sinning and living life on our terms.  We have to repent, literally turn away from sin and everything that leads us to sin, and accept the healing that puts us back on the road to the kingdom.  Our sins are not who we are and what we have been called to be.  We have the Sacrament of Penance to set us back on the right path and to wash our sins away.  If you haven’t made a confession in a while, now is the time.  Take advantage of the healing grace our Lord longs to pour out on you.  I’m always amazed at how much joy I feel when I have gone to confession.  It’s the only cure for our unrighteous thoughts, words and actions.

    Friends, it’s not easy to live this way, it’s not easy to repent, it’s not easy to go and sin no more.  But that is our calling, that is what the Gospel demands of us, that’s what leads us to life.  As the Psalmist says today, “Blessed are they who follow the law of the Lord.”

  • Our Lady of Lourdes

    Our Lady of Lourdes

    Bernadette Soubirous was a sickly young woman. But on February 11, 1858, her entire life changed when a beautiful lady, clothed in white, with a rosary over her arm and a yellow rose on each foot, appeared to her and said, “I am the Immaculate Conception.” In the years since, the site of those wonderful apparitions, Lourdes, has been a place of pilgrimage and healing, but even more of faith. Church authorities have recognized over 60 miraculous cures, although there have probably been many more. To people of faith this is not surprising. It is a continuation of Jesus’ healing miracles—now performed at the intercession of his mother. Some would say that the greater miracles are hidden ones. That is, many who visit Lourdes return home with renewed faith and a readiness to serve God in their needy brothers and sisters.

    Many continue to be healed in body, mind and spirit today. Maybe it’s the remission of cancer, or deliverance from the flu. Perhaps the intercessor was Saint Blaise, who we recently remembered, or Saint Peregrine, or Our Lady of Lourdes who we celebrate today. However it is accomplished, healing is the ministry of our God. Sometimes an illness is not cured, perhaps it even grows worse or is terminal, and so maybe the healing that God intends in that situation isn’t the physical one we hope for, but instead some spiritual gift or growth in faith. God answers our prayers in all sorts of ways, though the prayers of many intercessors; a person of faith takes comfort in that.

    In 1992, Pope Saint John Paul II proclaimed today as the World Day of the Sick, “a special time of prayer and sharing, of offering one’s suffering for the good of the Church and of reminding us to see in our sick brother and sister the face of Christ who, by suffering, dying and rising, achieved the salvation of humankind.” In our prayer today, we remember all of those who are sick, and we offer our own illnesses and frailties for the accomplishment of God’s will in our world.

  • The Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time: Salt and Light

    The Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time: Salt and Light

    One of my professors in seminary used to tell us all the time, “Brothers, Christianity looks like something, the Christian looks like something.”  His point was that if we are Christians, we needed to conform ourselves to Christ, to be more like Christ, to do what Christ called us to do in this life, so that we could have the possibility of joining Christ forever in the next life.

    In today’s Gospel, Jesus gives us a glimpse at what the Christian looks like, in a way.  He uses the images of salt and light, and I think those are very familiar images for us to grasp.  We all use salt and light every day, and it is interesting to hear Jesus say that that is what we are.  Anyone who cooks, or even anyone who eats, will tell you of the value of salt.  I like to watch the television show Chopped on the Food Network.  On that show, four chefs compete to make something edible of a basket of disparate and perhaps even bizarre ingredients.  Then three judges sample their dishes and decide who is not moving on to the next round; they are “chopped.”  At the end, one of them wins a bunch of money.  I can’t tell you how many people I’ve seen on that show get “chopped” because they under-seasoned their food.  A pinch of salt might be what got between them and ten thousand dollars!

    So the Christian is salt for the world; we are called to season the world with joy and goodness and concern for the poor and genuine love, based on the Gospel.  But Jesus wonders what would happen if that salt were to lose its flavor.  Now I can’t imagine salt losing its saltiness.  In fact, I googled this one time and found a chemist who took this question on.  He indicated that salt, in its crystalline form, is pretty stable; it doesn’t lose its flavor.  So Jesus was using, as he often does, hyperbole to get our attention.  Suppose for the moment that salt could lose its saltiness: what would it then be good for?  Nothing, of course.

    Jesus seems to be saying that we, as the salt for the world, could lose our saltiness.  We could become under-seasoned by skipping Mass to attend a sports event or sleep in.  We could become under-seasoned by neglecting our prayer life.  We could become under-seasoned by watching the wrong things on TV or surfing the wrong sites on the internet.  We could become under-seasoned by holding on to relationships that are sinful.  And when that starts to happen, our ability to season our world with the presence of Christ is diminished, little by little.

    And then we have the image of light.  On Thursday, we celebrated the feast of the Presentation of the Lord, which celebrates Jesus as the Light of the World coming into the darkness that we often experience.  I often ask the school children how many of them are or ever had been afraid of the dark.  Lots of hands go up.  I think that’s probably true of all of us on some level; the darkness is a scary place.  There are all sorts of obstacles in the dark that could cause us to trip and fall, and you never know what might befall you on a dark and scary road.  All of us have had those experiences when we are in the dark, and it’s not a fun place to be.

    So what do you do when you find yourself in the dark?  Well, you turn on the light, of course. The light changes everything: you can see the obstacles over which you might have fallen.  Anything lurking in the dark will now be identified in the light.  Sometimes a quick look around with the lights on will assure you that that noise you heard was just the house settling, or the furnace firing up, or something similarly innocuous.  The light just makes you feel a little safer.

    And so we are called to be light too.  We don’t need much time to think about how dark our world can be at times.  We see on television the news about war and crime and terrorism and new diseases and things we shouldn’t be eating.  We hear about children bullying one another and people stalking others on the internet.  A quick moment of reflection reminds us of our own sinfulness; the bad that we have done and the good we have failed to do.  Darkness in our world can be pretty pervasive at times, and it makes the world a rather frightening place.

    But we have the light.  We have come alive in Jesus, the Light of the world.  As those gifted with the Light of the world, we become people of light.  We become light for the world too.  Jesus insists that our light should shine so brightly that we affect the darkness of our world, completely overcoming that darkness with the Light of Christ.  He insists that we are now that city, set on a hill, that cannot be hidden.  And we know how true that is.

    St. Therese of Liseaux used to talk about doing little things with great love for the glory of God.  She found joy in her “Little Way” and it has inspired so many people ever since.  Our Liturgy today calls us to do little things and big things, all for God’s glory.  It calls us to be salt for a world grown bland with despair and light for a world dwelling in a very dark place.  In our first reading, the prophet Isaiah tells us how to do it:

    Share your bread with the hungry,
    shelter the oppressed and the homeless;
    clothe the naked when you see them,
    and do not turn your back on your own.
    Then your light shall break forth like the dawn…

    If neglecting our prayer life and our integrity causes us to lose our saltiness, if giving in to shame and despair puts out our light, then we can never do what we were created for.  But we have been given salt and light to season and light our world.  We are the city set on the hill for all the watching world to see.  Would that they might see us doing little things and big things, all for the glory of God.

  • The Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    The Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    We have this little Ordinary Time break between Christmas and Lent.  Ordinary Time means ordered, or numbered time, not just “ordinary” in the sense it’s nothing special.  Every Sunday is a celebration of the Resurrection of the Lord, which is, of course, very special!  In these numbered Sundays, we learn how to be disciples.  Today’s readings contribute to that by giving us instruction on the virtue of humility.

    Humility is the virtue that reminds us that God is God and we are not.  That might seem pretty obvious, but I think if we’re honest, we’d all have to admit that we have trouble with humility from time to time.  The deadly sin that is in opposition to humility is pride, and pride is perhaps the most common sin, and really the most serious sin.  We might think of all kinds of other sins that seem worse, but pride completely destroys our relationship with God because it convinces us that we don’t need God.  That was the sin of the Israelites building the golden calf in the desert, it was the sin of the Pharisees arguing with Jesus, it was even the sin of Lucifer in the first place, and it is the sin of all of us, at some level, at some times in our lives.

    Pride is pretty easy to recognize when it’s blatant: it is the person boasting of their abilities or their possessions or their accomplishments or status, claiming all the glory for themselves, putting others down in the process, and never even mentioning God.  So we might look at that and say, well, Father Pat, I’m not prideful.  But hold on just a second.  That’s not the only face of pride.  Another face of pride realizes that we are in a sorry state, but doesn’t want to bother God with our problems so we try to figure them out ourselves.  It never works, and so we continue to feel miserable, but we also offend God in the process.  A similar face of pride looks to accomplish something important, maybe even something holy.  But we go about it without immersing it in prayer and forge ahead with our own plans.  Again, we often fail at those times, and we certainly offend God.

    The only antidote to pride is the virtue of humility.  It is the prayer that admits that God is God and we are not.  It is the way of living that accepts the difficulties and challenges of life as an opportunity to let God work in us.  It is the state of being that admits that everything we are and everything we have is a gift from God, and spurs us to profound and reverential gratitude for the outpouring of grace that gets us through every day and brings us to deeper friendship with God.

    So today we hear the very familiar Beatitudes.  I know that when I was learning about the Beatitudes as a child, they were held up as some kind of Christian answer to the Ten Commandments.  I don’t think that’s particularly valid.  One might say, however, that the Ten Commandments are a basic rule of life and the Beatitudes take us still deeper.

    I also remember thinking, when I was learning about the Beatitudes, that these seemed like kind of a weak way to live life. I mean, who can live up to all these things anyway?  And who would want to?  Do you know anyone who would actively seek to be poor, meek or mourning?  And who wants to be a peacemaker?  Those people have more than their share of grief.

    So I think when we hear the Beatitudes today, we need to hear them a little differently.  We need to hear them as consolation and encouragement on the journey.  Because at some point or another, we will all be called upon to be poor, meek and mourning.  That’s just life.  And the disciple has to be a peacemaker and seek righteousness.  We will have grief in this lifetime – Jesus tells us that in another place.  So what Jesus is saying here, is that those of us undergoing these sorts of trials and still seeking to be righteous people through our sufferings are blessed.  And the Greek word that we translate as “blessed” here is makarios, a word that could also be translated as “happy.”  Happy are those who suffer for the Kingdom.

    So does anyone really believe that?  I mean, it’s quite a leap of faith to engage our sufferings and still be sane, let alone happy.  The ability to see these Beatitudes as true blessings seems like too much to ask.  And yet, that’s what we disciples are being asked to do.

    I think a good part of the reason why this kind of thinking is hard for us, is that it’s completely countercultural.  Our society wants us to be happy, pain-free and without a concern in the world.  That’s the message we get from commercials that sell us the latest in drugs to combat everything from indigestion to cancer – complete with a horrifying list of side-effects.  That’s the message we get from the self-help books out there and the late-night infomercials promising that we can get rich quick, rid our homes of every kind of stain or vermin, or lose all the weight you want in just minutes a day.  That’s the message we get from Oprah, Dr. Phil, and Joel Osteen and their ilk, who encourage us never to be second to anyone and to do everything possible to put ourselves first.  If this is the kind of message we get every time we turn on a television, or surf the internet, who on earth would want to be poor in spirit?  Who would want to be meek?  Who would even think to hunger and thirst for righteousness?

    Now this is an important point: Pride is just the way we live, culturally speaking.  We are always right, and if we’re not, we certainly have a right to be wrong.  We can accomplish anything we set out to do, and if we fail, it was someone else’s fault.  We don’t need anyone’s help to live our lives, but when we’re in need, it’s because everyone has abandoned us.  We are culturally conditioned to be deeply prideful people, and it is absolutely ruining our spiritual lives.

    Jesus is the One who had the most right of anyone to be prideful.  He is God, for heaven’s sake – I mean, he really could do anything he wanted without anyone’s help.  But he chose to abandon that way of living so that we could learn how to live more perfect lives.  He abandoned his pride and in humility took on the worst kind of death and the deepest of humiliation.

    So what if we started to think the way Jesus does?  What would happen if we suddenly decided it wasn’t all about us?  What would happen if we decided that the utmost priority in life was not merely taking care of ourselves, but instead taking care of others, trusting that in that way, everyone – including ourselves – would be taken care of?  What would happen if we were not completely consumed with ourselves and so did not miss the opportunity to come to know others and grow closer to our Lord?  That would indeed be a day of great rejoicing and gladness, I can assure you that.

    And I’m not saying you shouldn’t take care of yourself.  We all need to do that to some extent, and maybe sometimes we don’t do that as well as we should – I’ll even speak for myself on that one.  But when we consume ourselves with ourselves, nothing good can come from it.  Maybe this is a kind of balance that we could spend these weeks leading up to Lent striving to achieve.

    Today’s Liturgy of the Word calls us to a kind of humility that remembers that God is God and we are not.  It is the only real antidote to the destructive, deadly sin of pride that consumes our society and us on a daily basis.  This isn’t some kind of false humility that says we are good for nothing, because God never made anything that was good for nothing.  Instead, it is a humility that reminds us that what is best in us is what God has given us.  As St. Paul says today, “God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something, so that no human being might boast before God.”  If we would remember that everything that we have and everything we are is a gift to us, if we would remember that it is up to us to care for one another, if we would remember that being consumed with ourselves only makes us feel worse than ever, if we would but humble ourselves and let God give us everything that we really need, we would never be in want.  Blessed, happy are we; rejoice and be glad!

  • Saint Thomas Aquinas, Priest and Doctor of the Church

    Saint Thomas Aquinas, Priest and Doctor of the Church

    Today’s readings

    Today, we celebrate the feast of Saint Thomas Aquinas, one of the pre-eminent philosophers and theologians of our Church.   At the age of five years old, Thomas was promised to the famous Benedictine monastery at Monte Cassino.  His parents were hoping that one day he would become the abbot of that community, which had become a very prestigious and politically powerful position.  He later went to Naples to study, and a few years later abandoned his family’s plans for him and instead joined the Dominicans.  By order of his mother, Thomas was captured by his brother and brought back home, where he was kept essentially under house arrest for a year.

    Once free, he resumed his stay with the Dominicans and went to Paris and Cologne to study.  He held two professorships at Paris, lived at the court of Pope Urban IV, and directed the Dominican schools at Rome and Viterbo.  He is very much known for his prolific writings, which have contributed immeasurably to philosophy, theology, and the Church.  Thomas spoke much of the wisdom revealed in Scripture and tradition, but also strongly taught the wisdom that could be found in the natural order of things, as well as what could be discerned from reason.

    His last work was the Summa Theologiae, which he never actually completed.  He abruptly stopped writing after celebrating Mass on December 6, 1273.  When asked why he stopped writing, he replied, “I cannot go on…. All that I have written seems to me like so much straw compared to what I have seen and what has been revealed to me.”  He died March 7, 1274.

    Thomas has taught us through his life and writing that the only thing that can cause the house of the Church to crumble is ignorance.  We strengthen ourselves and our community by studying the Scriptures and the teachings of the Church, applying reason and revelation to the challenges of our world and our time.  “Hence we must say,” Thomas tells us, “that for the knowledge of any truth whatsoever man needs divine help, that the intellect may be moved by God to its act.  But he does not need a new light added to his natural light, in order to know the truth in all things, but only in some that surpasses his natural knowledge” (Summa Theologiae, I-II, 109, 1).

    In our Gospel today, Jesus speaks of those who are taught by God and do God’s will as his brothers and sisters.  Saint Thomas was one who taught the wisdom of following that will so that we might be the brothers and sisters of Christ.

  • Saint Agnes, Virgin Martyr

    Saint Agnes, Virgin Martyr

    Today we celebrate the feast day of Saint Agnes, a virgin and martyr of the Church. She is thought to have lived and died in the third century, but little is really known of her life. She is mentioned in the first Eucharistic Prayer in the list of saints: “Agnes, Cecilia, Anastasia, and all the saints.”

    What is known about Saint Agnes might not be one hundred percent factual, but it is instead meant to foster our own lives of holiness and dedication to the Lord. Legend tells us that Agnes was a young girl, probably twelve or thirteen years old, and very beautiful. Many young men longed for her, lusted after her, really, and one such man, having looked at her lustfully, lost his eyesight. But his sight was restored when Agnes herself prayed for him.

    Because of her dedication to Christ, she refused the advances of the men who lusted after her. And one such man, having been refused, reported her to the government for being a Christian. She was arrested and confined in a house of prostitution, and was eventually put to death, although the method of her death is unclear. She was buried near Rome in a catacomb that was then named in her honor, and Constantine’s daughter later built a basilica in her honor.

    Saint Ambrose wrote of her in his discourse on virginity, saying: “This is a virgin’s birthday; let us follow the example of her chastity. It is a martyr’s birthday; let us offer sacrifices; it is the birthday of holy Agnes: let men be filled with wonder, little ones with hope, married women with awe, and the unmarried with emulation. It seems to me that this child, holy beyond her years and courageous beyond human nature, receives the name of Agnes [which is the Greek word for “pure”] not as an earthly designation but as a revelation from God of what she was to be.”

    May the intercession of Saint Agnes lead us all to a reclaiming of virtue and holiness, and above all, an uncompromising love for Jesus.

  • Funeral Homily for My Mother, Julia Mulcahy

    Funeral Homily for My Mother, Julia Mulcahy

    In my funeral homilies for mothers, I have often reflected on how hard it is to lose a mother.  It turns out I was right!  From the very earliest moments of our existence and for many years, our mothers are our lifelines.  They provide food and sustenance first in the womb, then as we grow.  In the womb, our hearts beat together, and an amazing bond is formed.

    For my sisters and me, that bond was strengthened in these past few years, and especially in the last six or seven months as her illnesses progressed.  We all told her, and strongly believed, that it was our privilege to accompany her in her suffering, and to help relieve her as best we could.  We became the ones who provided food and sustenance – it’s a good thing she taught us all how to cook!  

    The collect prayer I chose for this morning evokes the fourth commandment: honor your father and mother.  I have often said over these few months that caring for Mom gave me a new appreciation, and a real love for, that commandment.  These months have certainly been difficult, but caring for Mom gave me a joy and a peace that I don’t think I would otherwise have had.  I think all three of us would say that.  That has been a blessing, and a consolation these past few months.

    “Many are the women of proven worth, but you have excelled them all.”  The writer of the Proverbs in our first reading puts words to a sentiment that we had for Mom, a devoted wife and mother, a grandmother, sister, aunt, and friend.  Today, we have come together in grief, to remember her contributions to our lives, and to pray for her soul.  This reading says a great deal about who my mother was.  It speaks of a woman who was smart, shared her wisdom, and lived with dignity.  That was Mom.  Anytime we had a project, or a problem, she had an idea for how to do it.  One of the things I often remember her saying is, “There must be a better way.”  And if there was, she would sure find it.  

    Mom’s faith was central to who she was.  One of my very earliest memories was of Mom teaching me the guardian angel prayer.  That prayer has accompanied my own journey through life, and it was one that we prayed together every night in the last year or so of her life.  She was also very devoted to the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Holy Rosary.  She was the one who taught me to pray it when I was young.  And I know so many of those beads have passed through her hands as she was praying for the three of us, and for her grandchildren, who were the light of her life in later years.  

    She and Dad lived their faith by being active in our parish growing up.  They were catechists in the high school program, and hosted a freshman class in their home for several years.  They also volunteered with the Saint Vincent DePaul Society, and delivered Christmas gifts to those in need for the parish.  They got us involved too, and being an active part of our parish was part of our family life.  My parents’ lived faith and my Mom’s fervent prayers certainly led me to the priesthood, and I’ll always be grateful for that.  I think Holy Mother Church owes a great deal to the mothers of many priests.

    “Love never fails,” says Saint Paul in our second reading.  One of the hallmarks of our family, always, was that we all knew how much we were loved.  We might disagree with each other on occasion, but we always sought the good of each other.  It was, indeed, a love that never failed.  It was a love that would have us lay down our lives for each other.  As Mom grew ill, the three of us met with her.  And the first thing she said to us was, “I know I’m a problem for you guys.”  We all said, no, Mom, you have a problem, you are not a problem.  And just like any of the problems our family has ever faced, we found a way to get through it.  The “better way” was love, and love wouldn’t have us do anything less for her than we did.  Love never fails to help us lay down our lives for each other.

    Probably for my whole priesthood, I dreaded this day, the day I would have to preach at my Mother’s funeral.  It’s hard to put into words what she meant to me, and to all of us, and it’s especially hard to do that without a tear in my eye.  But it is an absolute privilege to celebrate this funeral Mass for my Mother who had such a beautiful soul, and whose love inspired so many of the good things I have been able to do in my life.  We gather this morning with heavy hearts, because no matter how many years we’ve had, it’s never enough.  But we disciples never grieve without hope, because we know that the love that caused our Lord Jesus to lay down his life for us gives us the promise of being able to come together as family again, one day, in the house of our God.

    I find comfort in the words of this funeral Mass.  We are a people who steadfastly, courageously believe that there is hope in the midst of sorrow, joy in the midst of pain, resurrection that follows death, and love that survives the grave and leads us to the one who made us for himself.  The words of hope that we find in the prayers of this Mass lead us back to the Cross and Resurrection.  Death is not the end.  Love does not come to an end at the grave. 

    In a few moments, I will sing the preface to the Eucharistic Prayer.  I love the words of faith that it contains: “Indeed, for your faithful, Lord, life is changed, not ended, and when this earthly dwelling turns to dust, an eternal dwelling is made ready for them in heaven.”  We believe that Mom, and all our loved ones who have been people of faith, have been made new by passing through the gates of death.  Their happiness is our hope; the grace and blessing that they now share can one day be ours, too.

    Mom gave us so many wonderful memories.  Her wonderful sense of humor, her recipe for Sunday Gravy, the many Thanksgivings where she had everyone over to the house and cooked a feast for an army, the unconditional love and the joy that she had whenever we were together, and so much more.  Sharon, Peggy, and I will miss being able to share a Facebook meme with her or tell her about what’s going on in our lives, there will be that empty place on the living room sofa.  But the faith and love that she taught us will keep her memory alive in our minds and hearts, and for that we can be grateful.  We give thanks that we had the most wonderful mother, and grandmother, and that we were able to serve her in her last days, as she served us throughout our lives.

    And so it is with profound sadness, but also with ultimate trust in Almighty God that we commend my mother, our sister Julie to the Lord, knowing that his mercy is great and that his love will keep us united at the Eucharistic banquet until that day when death is conquered and sadness is banished and we are all caught up in God’s life forever.

    On the night before Mom died, we prayed together as we always did.  We said the guardian angel prayer, and then I gave a blessing, using the antiphon from the Canticle of Night Prayer as I did every night:

    Protect us, Lord, as we stay awake; watch over us as we sleep, that awake we may keep watch with Christ, and asleep, rest in his peace. Rest in Christ’s peace, Mom, you deserve it. You fought so much illness in the last several years, peace is a blessing.

    And so we pray: Eternal rest grant unto our sister Julia, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen.