
I'm just glad that someone at the Windsor Star can see through Councillor Headlines.
Just a little guy, having a little fun, with a lot of good friends. Don't take me too seriously. God knows I don't.


Love one Another, About Vocations and Priestly Retirements
Fifth Sunday of Easter 2010 Year C John 13.1, 33-33a, 34-45
May3, 2010
This is the year of the priest. We’ve mentioned that a few times over the course of the year, and from time to time we’ve taken time out for a special prayer for priests, but never really talked about it. Let’s. Perhaps, as the year winds down, we should talk about it today. It’s appropriate to today’s Gospel of visible love for all believers, a love that can be seen even by outsiders. A love that sets us apart.
We’ve had plenty of reason to think about Priests lately, particularly with the ordination of two men last weekend. Father Patrick Beneteau and Father David Butler were Ordained to the priesthood at the Cathedral in London, and a good number of the faithful showed up to, well, quite frankly, cheer them on. It has been four years since the last priestly ordination in our Diocese, so having two bright young men called to Holy Orders was a welcome relief, and quite a celebration. After the Ordination you could hear people saying things like “alleluia” and “thanks be to God.” We value our Priests and we know how important they are to our faith lives.
Perhaps you read about Father David and Father Patrick in the Windsor Star last Monday. It was quite a nice article and they both articulated their vocation in what I hope is a very inspiring way. Young men today would do well than to follow their example of courage and determination. Catholic families today would do well to emulate the Butler and Beneteau families in offering the Priesthood as a possible answer to God’s call in the hearts of their sons.
In our Diocese there is a place for the call to be realized in St Peter’s Seminary.
In fact, in this particular crop of seminarians there are still 4 more to be Ordained by the end of June; men who studied in London but will be ordained by their own Bishops in Calgary, in Thunder Bay, in Hamilton and at the Chaldean Church here in Windsor (the former Immaculate Conception).
A couple of weeks ago I spent my annual retreat with the Seminarians at the Holy Family Retreat House in Oxley, one of the other jewels of our Diocese. IN the London Diocese we offer the faithful many ways to celebrate, nurture and grow the faith that most Dioceses across Canada can’t match, the Seminary and the Retreat house being just two of the unique legacies left to our care by the faithful who came before us.
During the retreat we spent almost 8 days in complete silence, except for each day at Mass and at morning prayer, or praying the Rosary together at sunset, and at our our daily meeting with our Retreat Director.
It’s funny, but even when you are in total silence, when you can’t say a word, when even meals are shared in complete silence without even eye contact or a little smile, a wave, a gesture – all forms of communication that could interrupt another’s prayer – even with all that silence a great fellowship is formed.
I tried to keep fairly close to the guys who were going to be Ordained while in the Chapel when they would be deep in prayer. My friend Father Mickey Prieur puts it this way, “when the Holy Spirit’s at work, it’s good to be in the neighbourhood!”
The Holy Spirit was indeed at work, not just in the men to be ordained, but in the 20 or more Seminarians from across Canada discerning their call, and in the Permanent Deacons who were on retreat as well. My friends, make no mistake. There may be cause of concern for our church, but it’s reason for prayer, but not for despair. Hope abounds.
Sure, I know that the press hasn’t been favourable for the Catholic Church, our Holy Father and for our Priests lately, but have you noticed a turn in the right direction lately? Last weekend an honest but supportive editorial in favour of the Catholic Church, and then the article about the Ordination, and just this weekend a letter from a reader in support of the many, many, many good priests out there, and my friends, right here with our own Pastor, Father Kornacker.
Pope Benedict XVI, in proclaiming a year for Priests, quoted a real priest’s priest, St. John Vianney when he said “A good shepherd, a pastor after God’s heart, is the greatest treasure which the good Lord can grant to a parish, and one of the most precious gifts of divine mercy”.
Explaining to his parishioners the importance of the sacraments, Saint John would say: “Without the Sacrament of Holy Orders, we would not have the Lord. Who put him there in that tabernacle? The priest. Who welcomed your soul at the beginning of your life? The priest. Who feeds your soul and gives it strength for its journey? The priest. Who will prepare it to appear before God, bathing it one last time in the blood of Jesus Christ? The priest, always the priest.” These words, welling up from the priestly heart of the holy pastor, might sound excessive. Yet they reveal the high esteem in which he held the sacrament of the priesthood. “The priest is not a priest for himself, he is a priest for you”.
This Priest, a priest not for himself, but for us, Father Bill Kornacker has been a priest for 42 years, a real priest’s priest in the most humble sense of the word that I can imagine. He is infused with a love for the poor through his love for Christ, and his personal mentorship as I studied to be a Deacon has been invaluable. Father Bill has just this weekend officially announced his retirement from active parish and pastoral ministry. There will be plenty of opportunity to formally express our gratitude between now and the beginning of July, but if you pick up today’s bulletin you will notice a beautifully written letter from Father Bill announcing his retirement. As he reminds us, a Priest never really retires from his vocation, but there does come a time to serve God in other ways that include a well deserved rest. I invite you to pray on those words.
Today’s Gospel speaks of love. Christ says he gives us a “new” commandment. Why does he say it is new, when it is clearly so old? Or is the commandment new because it divests us of our former selves and renews us? Love does indeed renew the person who hears and obeys its command, but only that love which Jesus distinguished by the qualification, “as I have loved you.” Our Priests, our Bishops, live their lives and sometimes give their lives in that very love, expressed for us in the Sacrament of the Eucharist.
Archbishop Tom Collins of the Archdiocese of Toronto, I am told, is known to end every homily he gives for special occasions such as confirmations or high school graduations by holding up his cell phone. He gives out his number, and invites any young man who is considering a vocation to priesthood to give him a call. He does it so often that quite often the parishioners laugh and say it along with him. He promises to take time out to meet with any young man who is considering God’s call to the Priesthood over breakfast, and as he says, “you’ll get your fill of pancakes.”
I do invite any young man in this parish who is considering a vocation to the Priesthood, or for that matter any man who may be feel called to learn more about the Permanent Diaconate, to grab a bulletin, my email address is on the front page. Send me an email. I’m good for breakfast. I hope you like pancakes.
Easter 2010 Year C Luke 24:13-35 April 4, 2010
“Christ is Risen, Alleluia!”
If we were editors of the local paper back in the time of the Gospel, that might be the headline in tomorrow’s paper. “Christ is Risen!” (headline)–and under that, the introductory headline “Mary Magdalene finds Empty Tomb.” It would be a darned sight better than the press we’re getting these days.
But of course, it’s not that simple. First of all, there’s the fact of the Roman Occupation and that they didn’t take well to anything that seemed like insurrection, hence, the crucifixion of Barabbas. Well, the almost crucifixion of Barabbas – he was released at the request of the people as it was the custom to pardon one prisoner, and even though he was a really bad guy, the mob decided it was safer to let him roam free than to let Jesus continue preaching His gospel of love and forgiveness. So the headline on Monday morning might read “Barabbas set Free”, subheadline “Peacenik Preacher pays the Price”.
Well, maybe not the Monday paper. That’s far too soon to understand what’s taken place. We’ve had 2000 years to mull it over, and it still remains the mystery of our faith. Christ has died, Christ is risen...and we know how it ends up...Christ will come again.
So – new headline – “Empty tomb”, lead headline underneath the banner; “Woman says dead man is alive.”
It’s a little strange isn’t it? That empty tomb is cause for great joy for all of us. It is, because we know how the story turns out. Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again. We don’t know how or when, but we know how the story turns out. That’s why we’re here.
Imagine it from Mary Magdalene’s point of view, from Simon Peter and the other apostle’s point of view. She comes to mourn and pay her respects, and finds what amounts to a grave that has been desecrated. How much more can one woman take?
She followed Him in faith, and in love, and ended up witnessing His brutal trial, scourging and execution, and then if that wasn’t enough, now they can’t even let Him rest in peace, the body is missing.
She’s near desperation when she confronts the gardener, or he whom she supposes to be the gardener. “If you know what’s happened to the body, let me know and I’ll take care of it, quietly. Just let us grieve our loss with dignity...”
Of course, the gardener is actually Christ, but something has prevented her from seeing him. Doesn’t that happen to us sometimes? We meet
Christ in our midst, not amongst the Kings and politicians, the rich and influential, but amongst the gardeners and labourers and carpenters and the sick and the homeless, and we don’t always recognize him. Mary, a woman of great faith, once she hears his voice, knows him for who he is.
Realizing who He is, I think she reacts the way any of us might. When we think of the loved ones whom we have lost, that we would love to have just one more day with...if that person showed up alive even for just one moment, we might be tempted to wrap our arms around them and never let go. Christ tells Mary Magdalene and He tells us not to hang on too tight. He tells her she has to let go. “If you do not let me go, I cannot ascend to the Father. You must let go.”
The wisdom or our times describes this as “closure”. We people of faith, who celebrate the death, resurrection and ascension of Christ the Lord know that true closure will come in end times, when He comes again as He said he would.
So, a newspaper story of the day might report on the empty tomb, the faithful woman, a reported sighting of the now very much alive Jesus, and no doubt a reference to the way he died, just for good measure.
The cross, in Christ’s time it was not a sign of love and peace, but a sign of fear and pain. If you were going about your daily business, even the business of preparing for the Passover, and the Roman authorities were busy erecting crosses on the landscape, you knew what that meant. It was a fairly common sight and not a very pleasant one.
Christ wasn’t the only person crucified that day, we know of at least two others and He wasn’t the last one ever crucified, we know of the saints who followed Him, and yet He is the one we remember. Out of hundreds, perhaps thousands of crucifixions over time, His is the one we remember. This is our faith.
If we could go back in time and walk around with a crucifix hanging from our neck, would it bring about a feeling of peace and security and hope as it does today, or would it strike terror into the hearts of the people?
Maybe that is the mystery of our faith. The empty tomb, the man on the cross, the linen cloths of burial discarded, these are the signs of our faith.
It’s unexplainable except through faith that these are the joy of our existence, because we know how the story ends up.
Christ lives. Not in the abstract, not in the “Christ lives in the hearts of each one of us” kind of way, although certainly that is true. Christ lives, in the flesh. His body was never found because He ascended, flesh and blood, into heaven. He rose from the grave this day, this Easter Sunday, not in some metaphoric or soothing fable or religious story; in the flesh.
We commemorate it in the sacrament of the Eucharist, and we remember Christ’s sacrifice for us in the here and now. Christ didn’t say at His last supper “this bread represents my body, this wine represents my blood”, He said “this IS my body, this IS my blood,” and further commanded “do THIS in memory of me.” And so we do, often.
This is what we celebrate, and what so many have trouble understanding. There’s a video out there in which actor Stephen Fry absolutely and brilliantly criticizes the Catholic faith by misstating the mystery of the Eucharist. He’s not a fan, but he makes a well reasoned argument and gets most of it wrong. At one point he says, and I quote, “(the priest) has the power to change the molecules of wine into blood, literally, to change the molecules of paste bread into flesh, literally” and the audience jeers and laughs, and I can’t help but think, well not quite, the power comes from God through the sacramental action of the Priest, but yes by George, he’s got it. This is Christ’s body, this is Christ’s blood, given up for us, for our salvation. It’s a shame Fry doesn’t get that he’s got it, but yes, that’s exactly what’s about to happen. Literally.
Despite the sins of our fathers, the errors of our own time yet to be revealed, our own doubts in the midst of suffering, with this broken and repenting Church amidst the bad press and society’s readiness to crucify Him once again on the cross of public opinion, we are here today.
He is Risen! Perhaps the story in tomorrow’s paper should quote St. Augustine who gives us faith’s answer to today’s questions. “If you understand him, he is not God.”
Turn Away From Sin and be Faithful to the Gospel
Lent, Year C (A), Week 5 John 11-37, 17, 20-27, 33b-45 March-21-2010
“Lazarus has arisen!”
These are familiar words in my household, usually directed towards someone who has slept in late, and emerged from his or her room, all bleary eyed and blinking in the sunlight. When we sleep in it`s inevitable, we know we will awake to my wife proclaiming, “Lazarus has arisen!”
The kids are old enough now that they sometimes are known to stay out quite late on a Saturday evening, or on a day off from work and school, they may sleep in a little late and hear that familiar morning greeting from Claire, “Lazarus has arisen!”
Many people when they hear the story of Lazarus may be like me when I was a child hearing it for the first time, imagining a mummy-type creature or perhaps a zombie coming out from the tomb, clothes trailing behind him as he stumbles in the daylight... a little like Saturday mornings at my house.
This very Gospel reading is read during Lent, and a common reading at Funerals and at Parish Prayers for good reason, in fact I chose just this Gospel reading earlier this week when I led the Parish Prayers in celebration of the life of a former parishioner at the Funeral Home.
In funeral settings the message of Lazarus is easily understood to be a message of hope in life eternal, in resurrection, of faith in Jesus Christ and of great comfort to a grieving family and to supportive friends and neighbours. This Gospel speaks to the truth of our faith, and can be just the right expression of our Catholic faith in a time of sorrow or confusion.
A loving family, sisters Martha and Mary call for Jesus in their time of great concern for the health of their dying brother Lazarus. Jesus is walking around on the face of the planet in their time, and they plead for his intervention in real time – in effect, they pray as we should pray, in real time. Their interactions with Christ, in friendship, in supplication, in conversation and in expressions of grief are just as natural as prayer can be for us, and it can be just that direct. Jesus hears the call and while he is on his way Lazarus dies. Still, Jesus is steadfast and takes that moment to teach his disciples, to teach us, that an abiding faith in the Son of God will overcome even the power of death.
Arriving in Judea, he is greeted in great devotion by Martha, the grieving sister. Listen to Martha’s words. “If you had been here my brother would not have died.” For some people that sounds like a challenge to Christ, perhaps a rebuke. To my ears these may well be the greatest expression of faith I have heard in a time of grief.
Put another way, we say, ``because you are here, my loved one has not died.`` Martha had great faith in the power of Christ to overcome death, but understood it in temporal terms. She knew Jesus in the here and now, she knew Jesus in the flesh. What she didn`t understand, and what we are taught through the words of this Gospel, is that because of our faith, Jesus is with us at the end of our time here on earth, and we shall not die. Like Lazarus, we will rise again.
And Lazarus physically does, right there and then. Jesus calls him out of the tomb. “Lazarus, come out.”
During this time of Lent we Catholics take forty days to examine our relationship with God, our relationship with Christ.
It is tradition that we practice acts of penance, charity and fasting during Lent. Many of us have made plans and commitments to charitable works, to giving up this or doing that, but not just for the sake of doing or not doing, giving or not taking, but to bring us closer to Christ; to deepen our relationship with Christ.
Strip away the distractions, deny the selfish desires, face the temptation and do it in a prayerful way, and we may find ourselves face to face with Christ, one hopes. At the very least, perhaps we find ourselves examining our relationship with Christ.
We find ourselves confronting and acknowledging that which stands between us and God, that which we must bring to Christ if we’re ever going to have a spiritually productive Lent. It’s called sin.
It is said that sin is what separates us from God, anything that creates distance between us and God. Sin causes us to turn away from God in shame. Our sins cause us to hide from God and neighbour and from Christ and even from the body of Christ – His people, His word, His sacrifice, His Eucharistic presence.
It can even prevent us from receiving communion, and until we reconcile through the sacrament of Reconciliation with our God,until then it can be very lonely spiritually.
We can even feel as though God has turned his face from us, or when we see that sin is committed freely in our society to the detriment of the helpless and the defenceless, we might even wonder if it is God who is dead.
In truth, is it not we who die a little inside each time we sin? In our shame, and perhaps in our human pride, we try and go it alone, we try to tell ourselves we don’t need God, we don’t need to come to Church, we don’t need to confess our sins to anyone, because, after all, isn’t it just between me and God?
Before long we can become like Lazarus in the tomb. Sick and dying, and after time, our relationship with Christ dies. But not His with us.
Christ answers the prayers of the faithful. He stands at the tomb of our loneliness and shame and calls to our sinful souls “Come out! Lazarus, come out!” Christ speaks to us, and we cannot deny ourselves, we are drawn to Him. Like Lazarus, we are drawn to the sound of his voice because he calls us by name.
We started our Lenten journey together, with ashes on our foreheads and the words “turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel.” Over the last five weeks we have gathered to pray a good Lent together, through daily prayers, the Stations of the Cross; we have shared Eucharistic adoration and Benediction and evening Vespers. Together we have prayed for each other because we know there is life everlasting for each of us, there is a hope, there is a chance to do just that, to turn away from sin and being faithful to the Gospel, to walk into the light of forgiveness and the loving embrace of our brother, friend and saviour, our Lord Jesus Christ.
Because of our faith in Christ, we shall not die, we shall live.
Luke 2:41-52 (in which the child Jesus is found in the temple)
Some people feel like today’s society has forgotten all about families. We worry that families don’t matter anymore. We long for days gone by, fond in our memory, for a time when the nuclear family was celebrated and protected.
In my youth we watched television shows about family and we wished we could be like them. Some wanted to be the perfect nuclear family like the Cleavers, others the perfect blended family like the Bradys, we wanted father to know best and mom to wear pearls in the kitchen. Today we see families in the media and we thank God that at least we’re not that bad. We’re not the Osbornes, we’re not the balloon boy’s family, I’m not John and she’s not Kate, with or without the eight.
That's when we can turn to the example of the Holy Family.
When our own children do and say the things that cause us confusion and even heartbreak, God knows how we feel. God knows. No matter how we describe our family situation, what has happened or what challenges we face, God knows.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were not perfect people with all the answers. God chose them as part of a divine plan.
"They, too, had to listen to God’s call, and try every day to choose virtuous actions. Whole-hearted effort – not a perfect result – is what it means to be a “Holy Family”. (John Vella)