Divine Mercy Sunday

“True holiness does not mean a flight from the world; rather, it lies in the effort to incarnate the Gospel in life — in the family, at school and at work, and in social and political involvement.”

- Bl. Pope John Paul II (1920-2005)

Perhaps one of the most memorable days in my life was January 6, 1986, when I met Pope John Paul II in a private audience. There were 43 of us who accompanied Fr. Donald W. Wuerl, now Cardinal of the Archdiocese of Washington, DC, for his consecration as a bishop. Not only did I see the Holy Father in a private audience with our group, but I also had the opportunity to receive Holy Communion from him. A picture hangs in my rectory office capturing that most memorable moment. At the time I was 23 years old and then-Father Wuerl told the Holy Father I was studying for the priesthood in the Diocese of Pittsburgh. With his sunburst smile and joyful spirit, the Pope said to me, “To study for the priesthood of Jesus Christ ... there is no greater vocation in all the world.” Those words stung my heart at that tender age, just two years before my ordination on May 21, 1988. (I must admit, I was a bit jealous of Fr. Tim Whalen, a priest of our Diocese of Pittsburgh, who could speak Polish. He got a longer conversation with the Holy Father!) Nonetheless, as history has written, John Paul II goes down as one of the most influential leaders of the 20th century.

Karol Jozef Wojtyla was born in Poland on May 18, 1920 (the same date we sold our Mom and Dad's house in 2004 — I attributed the sale to him!) By the time Karol was 12, he lost both his mother and his brother Edmund, who was his personal hero. By the age of 20, Karol also lost his father, Karol Wojtyla, Sr. The Pope would later tell writer, Andre Frossard, “At 20, I had already lost all the people I loved.” Karol became Pope John Paul II on October 16, 1978. He was the first non-Italian pope in 456 years and the youngest in 132 years. He was 58 years old when elected. For 26 years he exercised a world-wide ministry as Supreme Pastor of the Church, feeding his sheep and being the rock upon which the Church rests; his positive influence was felt around the globe. His appeal to the youth was unprecedented, especially in his World Youth Days which are held every 2 to 3 years. On May 13, 1981, while riding through St. Peter's Square, Pope John Paul II was shot by Mehmet Ali Agca. The Pope was hit in the abdomen, his right elbow and left index finger. He received the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick at Gemelll Hospital and surgery there saved his life. Later, Pope John Paul II personally met with and forgave his attacker. Though he lost his strength to Parkinson's Disease (triggered perhaps by a would-be assassin's bullet and arthritis), the Pope never displayed any resentment about his condition, but used his infirmity to teach the world the nobility of Christian suffering. Pope John Paul II died on Saturday, April 2, 2005, on the eve of Divine Mercy Sunday, which we celebrate today and which he instituted fulfilling the request of fellow pole, St. Faustina Kowalska. Pope John Paul II was an actor, avid hiker, sportsman, poet and advocate for the poorest of the poor. He was pronounced “Venerable” in 2009 and will be given the title “Blessed” by Pope Benedict XVI at a beatification ceremony in Rome this Sunday, May 1.

Cardinal Donald W. Wuerl recently published a book entitled "The Gift of Blessed John Paul II: A Celebration of his Enduring Legacy" in which he summarizes 24 encyclicals and apostolic exhortations of this 264th successor of St. Peter. Having lived across the corridor of Bishop Wuerl's room during my seminary days, I admired the Bishop's practice of reading the lives of the popes. Each night he would spend an hour before retiring to bed studying his many books on the popes.

For over a quarter of a century, Pope John Paul II visited 133 countries around the world, traveling approximately 765,000 miles, to meet his flock across the face of the planet. It is estimated that 17 million people were present for his weekly audiences at St. Peter's square over the course of his pontificate. Noted as the pope to canonize more saints than any other, (a total of 482), it was fitting that the crowds at his funeral spontaneously chanted for him, “Santo! Santo!” (“A Saint! A Saint!”) and waved banners that read, “Santo subito!” (“Sainthood now!”). His message of hope will be forever remembered which he launched at his first public Mass when he encouraged us to “Open wide our hearts to Christ” and to put aside fear and “Be not afraid!”

Throughout our lives, we all need faith maps, faith models and faith mentors. As one who entered the seminary just two years after Pope John Paul II was elected, I feel eternally grateful and blessed to have had such a father-figure in my life. It was just one month before my natural father, David W. Jones, died on February 8, 1986, that I met Pope John Paul II. It was the last and perhaps the greatest gift my father shared with me -- in sending me to Rome to meet such a holy man.

This past week, at the Chrism Mass on Holy Thursday, Bishop Zubik had us call to mind a priest who had a profound influence upon our lives. Immediately I thought of my home pastor, Fr. Thomas F. Carey, who died in 1999 at 87, and who reminded his flock to pray daily for the Holy Father, our bishop and our pastor, all unworthy servants of the great call, that they might fulfill their respectful offices. At the entrance of our church here at St. Joseph are 3 pictures: the pope, the bishop and the pastor, to remind the faithful to pray for us, that God would protect and guide us so that we may sanctify His holy people. Bishop Zubik at the Chrism Mass noted 3 titles which a priest bears: 1) husband -- married to Christ's bride, the Church 2) father -- instrument of giving “new life” 3) servant -- ”alter Christus” (other Christ) -- who pours out hearts and life for God‟s people. Blessed John Paul II, we love you!

Prayer for Asking Graces through the Intercession of Blessed Pope John Paul II

O Blessed Trinity, we thank You for having graced the Church with Pope John Paul II and for allowing the tenderness of Your Fatherly care, the glory of the Cross of Christ and the splendor of the Holy Spirit to shine through him. Trusting fully in Your infinite mercy and in the maternal intercession Mary, he has given us a living image of Jesus the Good Shepherd, and has shown us that holiness is the necessary measure of ordinary Christian life and is the way of achieving eternal communion with You. Grant us, by his intercession, and according to Your will, the graces we implore, hoping that he will soon be numbered among your saints. Amen.

P.S.  A heartfelt word of thanks for the Easter cards, goodies and gifts. And thanks to all who decorated the church so beautifully at Easter, to Ginny Ambrose, to the choirs and all ministers for the uplifting and inspiring liturgies.

Easter Sunday

“No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne; no gall, no glory; no cross, no crown.”

- William Penn

Every Sunday of the year is the Sabbath, the Lord's Day, the Day of the Resurrection. And Mother Church considers each Sunday as a “Little Easter” as the Church celebrates the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Today we celebrate the “Big Easter." Easter is the Feast of feasts, the Solemnity of solemnities, the Church's holiest day of the year. Today, in a tradition of 20 centuries, the Church boldly announces to the world, “Christ Lives!” Easter is more than an annual feast in the Church's liturgical cycle; resurrection is a way of life. There are two sides of the Cross — in death lies the promise of life, and in life is the remembrance of death. A happy and peace-filled Easter to all of you!

St. Augustine says that we who are Christians should be an “Alleluia” from head to toe. Alleluia is a Hebrew cry of jubilation which means, “Praise the Lord!” The Lord lives with us and in us and is the very center of our lives. His story has become our story, our hope of glory. The word, “Alleluia” is ecstatic love, joy praise, adoration, gratitude — all rolled into one. “Alleluia” is the song of the Resurrection.!

Atop the city of Pittsburgh on Mt. Washington at St. Mary of the Mount Church is a powerful and breathtaking depiction of the Crucifixion, seen as one peers into the 24-hour chapel at the entrance. However, once inside the church, and upon walking out, one sees in the stained glass windows above the triumphant Jesus risen in glory. These images at the back and front of the church bring together both death and life. It is in the Lord's Death and Resurrection that our redemption lie. In Jesus' farewell address at the Last Supper he said to His disciples, “There is no greater love than to lay down your life for your friend” (John 15:13). Like Christ, we are called to lay down our lives to serve to others with generous and committed love.

Easter celebrates when Jesus “passed over” from death to new life. On the day of our Baptism we were incorporated into the Paschal Mystery of the dying and rising of Christ. Throughout our lives as Christians, we must die completely to self, to sin, to the flesh, to the world, and to earth, in order to rise through the grace of the Holy Spirit with the Risen Christ to freedom, peace, joy, love, hope, and new life. One of the highest points in my life as a priest is Sunday. (Some people think it's the only day priests work!) As I arise early in the morning to open the church, I always wonder who will enter into God's house this day — what challenges they face, what crosses they carry, what burdens they bear, what problems they wrestle with, what blessings they have received, what prayers they seek answered, and what graces will be shared in celebrating together. It is indeed a humble blessing to serve as a priest. It is a joy to share His story of love.

After 23 years of service to the Church in the Diocese of Pittsburgh this May, I've come to realize that priesthood is not just a position, title or function to fulfill, but instead is a unique calling from God to serve His people by accompanying and being with them as a companion on the journey.

One of my heroes from my first seminary days at St. Paul's in Crafton was Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen (1895-1979). In his autobiography, Treasure in Clay, he spoke of the “daily hour of power." That hour is a Holy Hour made in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, which he observed each day. The closer we experience the intimate love of Jesus in prayer, the more we desire to share that love with others. Archbishop Sheen said, “Show me your hands. Do they have scars from giving? Show me your feet. Are they wounded in service? Show me your heart. Have you left a place for Divine Love?”

My patron, St. Richard of Chichester (1197-1253), wrote:

Thank you, Lord Jesus Christ,
for all the benefits and blessings
which You have given me,
for all the pains and insults
which You have borne for me.
Merciful Friend, Brother and Redeemer,
may I know You more clearly,
love You more dearly,
and follow You more nearly,
day by day.

At each Mass and at every prayer, we seal ourselves with the mark of faith, the Sign of the Cross. Carrying the cross is the daily occupation of the Christian. There are no shortcuts to discipleship. There are no shortcuts to Easter. There are no shortcuts to the Kingdom of God. Embracing, accepting and carrying the cross is necessary for following Jesus. One of the most powerful and dramatic times of the liturgical year is when we venerate the cross on Good Friday. The Bishop takes his ring off, and Christians bow, kiss, genuflect, touch, bless, pause in silence, or offer some gesture of love, in thanksgiving for the ultimate sacrifice Jesus made for us sinners. The Cross became the trophy of our salvation. Jesus' Cross is the bridge by which all humankind can traverse from sin to forgiveness, slavery to freedom, darkness to light, and death to life. It is through the redeeming love of our Savior Jesus Christ, who bore the weight of our sins, that we receive salvation. Jesus died and rose again, thus becoming our pledge of hope, of peace, and of our victory.

Bishop Bob Morneau, a long-time mentor and companion of mine, offers an Easter poem in Poems Thrown Into the Wind:

Is my soul an empty tomb,
cold, silent, dark,
devoid of life, the risen Lord?
Or is my soul a home,
warm, welcoming, filled with light,
a site of Love’s dwelling bright?
These Easter questions haunt me,
taunt me into major remodeling.
My architect -- the Holy Spirit --
whose cost is grace,
who transforms me into a Holy place.

Palm Sunday

“The last enemy to be defeated will be death.”

- 1 Corinthians 15: 26

Last Saturday, April 9, 2011, I attended the 6th Annual Men's Conference of spirituality at the A. J. Palumbo Center at Duquesne University. They had such inspiring, motivating, dynamic, captivating and faith-changing speakers as: Matthew Kelly, Msgr. Jim Lisante, Dr. Scott Hahn and Fr. Scott Seethaler. Matthew Kelly challenged the men to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation once per month for one year and then see how they felt -- if good, then to do it for the rest of their lives. Msgr. Lisante challenged the men to live deeper lives of love that can only flourish through God's redeeming love and forgiveness of sins. Dr. Scott Hahn, who has written over 40 books, spoke of his conversion to the Catholic faith after serving as a Presbyterian minister. Fr. Scott's story telling, humor and joy brought hope to the assembly.

There were perhaps 2,000 men in attendance and my friend, Pat Molyneaux, noted that over 1,000 men went to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. The theme of the conference was, “Run your best in the race of faith, and win eternal life for yourself; for it was to this life that God called you when you firmly professed your faith before many witnesses” (1 Tim 6:12).

As I climbed the bleachers to listen to confessions for over two hours up in the rafters of the gymnasium, the men had to be in pretty good shape to get to my location. Some were holding on to the wall, some were climbing one step at a time. I must say it was inspirational to see their “panting desire” for God's merciful forgiveness in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. As one man made it to the heights of my bleachers, he breathed a sigh of relief and said, “I just had heart surgery. And now I seek a new heart in the Sacrament of Penance.”

Today is the beginning of the most spiritually moving, powerful and prayerful week on the Church's calendar. Of the 52 weeks of the year, only one week is called “Holy Week” in our Western church, and “The Great Week” in the Eastern church. Everything that Jesus said, did and lived while on earth led up to this week, to the moment of the Cross, the climax of God's plan for saving humanity. I believe that this week would be incomplete without experiencing the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Both as a confessor and a penitent, I love hearing those beautiful and profound words of absolution that are pronounced, “God the Father of Mercies, through the death and Resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the Church, may God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Archbishop Timothy M. Dolan of New York wrote a pastoral letter on the Sacrament of Penance that was released on St. Patrick's Day, March 17, in which he exhorted the entire archdiocese of New York, “Experience the joy of forgiveness! Experience liberation from sin! Keep those confessionals busy! Keep your priests busy about the great work of dispensing the Lord’s Mercy! Keep the sacrament of Penance at the heart of Catholic life!“

He went on to say that in the early Church Confession was seen as “the second conversion in tears” and continued, “I encourage you to make a good confession before Easter. Even if it has been a long time. Come home to our Father! Be reconciled to God through the ministry of His Church! Don’t wait to change your life! You can hope in the Father’s mercy. You can trust in His pledge of grace to help you lead a better life.”

Bishop Zubik, at the Men's Conference, mentioned that his greatest sorrow of the day was not being able to lift up the monstrance (weighing 80 lbs) holding the Eucharist for the crowd, due to his back surgery and lack of strength. But going to a deeper level, the Bishop humbly, sorrowfully and gracefully admitted his own personal weakness and sinfulness in failing to lift Christ up to the world as a bishop, priest, leader brother, disciple, companion and friend. I thought his image was a powerful one for us to meditate and reflect upon as we approach Holy Week. How do we lift up Christ to others? Let us lift Christ up to others by serving faithfully, by suffering sacrificially and by loving unconditionally.

A long-time mentor and spiritual companion, Sr. Joyce Rupp, wrote the book Fragments of Your Ancient Name: 365 Glimpses of the Divine for Daily Meditation. Addressing God, she says:

You are Love like no other:

Love so large you contain our smallness;

Love so deep You accept our shallowness;

Love so strong you carry our weakness;

Love so wide you enclose our wandering;

Love so tender you experience our hurting;

Love so tolerable You outlive our apathy;

Love so ardent You thaw our coldness;

Love so true, you endure our betrayals;

Love so patient, You wait for our returning.

Recently Bishop Bullock, the retired bishop of Madison, WI passed away. His Episcopal motto was simply three words, “Grace, Mercy, Peace.” My prayer for all of you is that during this Holy Week we will experience God's grace, encounter God‟s mercy and share Easter Peace.

Lent 5

“Remember that you have only one soul; that you have only one death to die; that you have only one life which is short and has to be lived by you alone’ and that there is only one glory, which is eternal. If you do this, there will be many things about which you care nothing.”

— St. Teresa of Avila

Every time I enter Resurrection Cemetery in Moon Twp. in the lead car before the hearse and pass through the entrance gate, there stands the Resurrected Lord -- “I am the Resurrection and the Life” (John 11:25). Invariably, in seeing this statue of the Risen Lord, I instinctively bless myself and pray that as mortal life is ended our new life in Christ will be celebrated.

The prophet Ezekiel (30:7) on this 5th Sunday of Lent gives us the promise of God: “I will open your graves and have you rise from them ... I will put my spirit in you that you may live.” The Prophet Ezekiel speaks of “dry bones," where we can feel lifeless, dull, irritable, like we have run out of gas, or are dead inside. Ezekiel describes a condition where one is down a long road of discouragement or lost enthusiasm. We find ourselves going through the motions, dragging along and completely lifeless. Perhaps we feel like we are wiped out or that we're becoming un-glued or we don't have our act together or we're falling apart or we can't get past what is breaking us. No one goes through life without dry, dark-valley experiences. God desires to impart His breath, His very essence, His Life into us anew. God's breath and Spirit sustain and enliven us with new energy, hope and a revived life. Ezekiel's vision of restoration of Israel during the exile in Babylon (587-538 BC) brings a breath of hope to the despondent, then and now. Perhaps we are in deep depression when our inner world is bleak and dark.

Perhaps we mourn a loved one, and we wonder if joy will ever return. Perhaps we've lost our dreams and enthusiasm and passion for life through failure, rejection or loss. Perhaps we're in the ditch of financial debt in which the black-hole gets darker and bigger. Perhaps we're caring for a loved one whose health only declines and worsens. Perhaps we think of those in AA on Wednesday nights and NA on Sunday night who come to our parish, living in the grip of addiction. Perhaps we can't find a way to live in forgiveness with one's self, God, the Church and one another. Perhaps we've experienced failure in a relationship or work situation that has life at an impasse or standstill. Perhaps we have not been as faithful to our Lenten disciplines and have failed new inner growth. Perhaps we are “digging our own grave” through sin. If any of these experiences or situations cause us to feel devoid of God's presence, let us feel God's breath come into our dry bones so that we may come to life.

In the Gospel today Jesus says to Lazarus, “Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:43). The raising of Lazarus from the dead foreshadows Jesus' own Resurrection on Easter Sunday 2 weeks away, and our own hope for salvation in Jesus Christ. In calling Lazarus, He calls each of us to come out of our tombs, to a brand new life. Jesus, the “Life-giver," raises hope and calls us to take steps to freedom. The Risen Christ desperately wants to reach into our own dark and worn places and pry us out to be free. Lent is the opportune time to roll away the stones that cover our graves of sin in order that we may enter a richer, new and fuller life with Christ. May we never underestimate the amount of healing, hope and forgiveness Jesus brings to our daily walk. The older one gets the more one hits the walls of one's limitations. However, the unlimited grace of God supplies for our deficiency. Hope springs eternal for the Christian and is in every season. Before every homily that I deliver, I say a prayer to the Holy Spirit that one soul be touched.

As the saying goes, there are two things that are certain in life: death and taxes (extended to April 18th this year!) Death for the Christian is not an end but a change. Yes, taxes cost us, but they also provide needed benefits. More certain than taxes and death, is God's promise to make all things new.

In the Way of the Cross Stations that we use for Lent, on the 14th Station, when Jesus is laid in the tomb, I like the reflection: “Almighty and Eternal God, on the edge of sadness when all seemed lost, You restored to us the Savior we thought defeated and conquered. Help us, we beg you, so to empty ourselves of self-concern that we might see Your hand in every failure and Your victory in every defeat. These things we ask in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns forever with You in the unity of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Lent 4

“Jesus is everything: in that He judges, He is Law, in that He teaches, He is Gospel, in that He saves, He is Grace, in that He begets, He is Father, in that He is begotten, He is Son, in that He suffers, He is Sheep, in that He is buried, He is Man, in that He comes to life again He is God.”

— St. Melito of Sardis

Recently, I had 5 funerals in one week. Today on this 4th Sunday of Lent, I will baptize 5 new members of our faith community here at St. Joseph. From the darkness of the womb to the darkness of the tomb, the Light of faith guides our way! Today is traditionally called "Laetare Sunday," the intermission or midpoint of our Lenten preparation. Today‘s rose colored vestments are worn reflecting joy. The opening antiphon calls: "Rejoice, Jerusalem" (that is, "Laetare Jerusalem"). Jerusalem is the city of peace, light and victory.

As in a play, sporting event or symphony there is a "break in the action" for an intermission, today there is an intermission in the Church's discipline of Lent to pause and reflect. It is also a time to pray for the catechumens who are preparing for full entrance into the Catholic Church, that they be illuminated with faith. This midpoint allows us to review our faithfulness to our Lenten resolutions and examine more closely our conscience.

Sometimes our vision becomes myopic when the tyranny of our own needs, desires and self-interests keeps us from seeing other‘s needs, longings and concerns. To gain a Christian perspective, to see life through the lens of faith, is our daily challenge. When we let the light of Christ shine in our hearts, God‘s grace spreads to those around us. We are to be the presence of the Kingdom. All we say, think and do must be oriented to holiness. We must tend to that light burning in us so that it is not extinguished by the darkness of sin. Through the gift of Baptism we are called to let Christ‘s light shine brightly in the world — as individual Christians, parishes, dioceses, and as the whole Universal Church — so that through the spirit of joyful boldness the light of Christ will shine. Sometimes it is by what we say, sometimes by what we do, but most of the time, by who we are.

We humbly ask God‘s forgiveness for the times we have extinguished Christ‘s Light through our selfishness and sin. We are called to live a repentant life. Our blind spots, our ignorance, our error, our prejudices and our fallen human nature can certainly keep us in the shadows. Since Christ is the true Light and He enlightens believers, He lances with the precision of a surgeon, the darkness of our sinfulness by healing our blindness, weakness, defects and imperfections.

In the Gospel today, Jesus heals an unnamed blind man not only of his physical sight, but of his spiritual in-sight to reflect God‘s glory. In the early Church, Baptism was referred to as “enlightenment” or “illumination” as we were to leave behind the darkness of sin and unbelief and live in the grace and liberating life of Jesus Christ. Those who live in God‘s light and grace do what is good, right, just and holy. Illuminated by the gift of faith, they avoid the dark and secret works of sin. It is Christ, who is Light, who redeems, purifies and heals all wrongs. We are called to live as "children of light" in our life-long struggle to be faithful to God. The brokenness, woundedness and sickness of sin is healed by Christ‘s mercy, forgiveness and love.

I had a blind great-great aunt, Elizabeth Sullivan Mulcahy, who married Francis Mulcahy. Both were blind and each had a seeing-eye dog. They married blind and only knew each other through sound, touch and faith. They lived in Johnstown, PA (80 miles from Pittsburgh) and I always marveled at the graces they conferred on others. After her husband, Francis died, my family moved Aunt Betty five days before the historic 1977 flood in Johnstown, and she lived at Marian Manor in Greentree until God called her home in 1982. We were fortunate that she was spared from that great flood and rescued in coming to Pittsburgh. Her light, faith and grace blessed many in that home operated by the Holy Spirit Sisters. I worked at the home from age 13 until my ordination at age 26. I‘ll never forget how the warmth of the sun shining on Aunt Betty‘s face brought so much peace. Despite her apparent darkness, she brought Christ‘s light to us in wonderful and marvelous ways. A blind person asked St. Anthony, "Can there be anything worse than losing eye sight?" He replied, "Yes, losing your vision."

We were born in darkness,
children of the night and of sadness.
You passed near us, Lord Jesus.
You touched our eyes,
and the dawn of your love rose upon us.
Christ, be our light of glory.

We were straying, seeking our path,
and the day was darker than night.
You passed near us, Lord Jesus.
You lit the light of your Gospel,
and our path became a way of Light.
Christ, be our light of glory.

Our eyes were red with tears,
and our expression dim with sadness.
You passed near us, Lord Jesus.
You bathed our eyes in the dew of your morning.
Then we recognized you,
and we followed you singing with joy.
Christ, be our light of glory.

We were seated on the side of the road
begging for a smile of joy, a look of love.
You passed near us, Lord Jesus.
You transfigured us into children of light.
Then the morning star shone in our heart,
And we became light for the world.
Christ, be our light of glory.

God our Father,
You dwell in light inaccessible,
and no look has ever approached your splendor.
But you sent your Son Jesus, light of the world,
and his sweet light has illuminated our earth.
We pray to you:
when we close our eyes on the beauty of this world,
open them upon the splendor of your eternity. Amen.

— Lucien Deiss, CSSp, A Garden of Prayers