Category: Pastor’s Corner

Dear Friends,

In today’s Second Reading St. Paul reminds us that hatred not only seeks destruction and harm to the person we hate but it also brings destruction upon us as well.  God dwells in us when we remain in communion with Him living a holy life. In this way, we are his temple.  St. Paul warns us that we would destroy our temples with anger envy or resentment.  Driving God out.   The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines anger as “An emotion which is not in itself wrong, but which, when it is not controlled by reason or hardens into resentment and hate, becomes one of the seven capital sins.” A capital sin is a mortal sin: that means spiritual death.  Anger is the door by which all the other vices get a hold of us.  When we’re angry we act in ways we never would when we’re calm.  We begin to gossip, trade insults, and lie.  We lose our patience and kindness and empathy.  Pride and selfishness take over. 

I have a story about a man who for a time let anger get the best of him.  His name is Moses.  This is not the Moses of Exodus who led the Israelites to freedom, but a different Moses who lived in 4^th century Egypt. He was a big man known for his strength and ferocity.  He had a ferocious anger.  Moses began his life as a servant.  He was not a good servant.  He was a very bad servant.  He was a thief and he constantly stole from his boss.  And when he became a suspect in a murder case the boss told him to leave.  He was fired.  He’d had enough.  He didn’t want a murderer living under his roof.  Once let go from his job Moses turned to a more devoted life of crime.  Moses was a large and imposing figure and wherever he went he brought violence and terror. 

There is the story of him planning the robbery of a very wealthy man.  This wealthy man had a fortress and many guards that protected his wealth.  But Moses had a “fool-proof” plan, or so he thought, of breaking in to steal the treasure.  The plan didn’t work; a dog began to bark alerting the guards to Moses’ presence.  And so he ran.  This failure put him into a rage.  He vowed to come back and try again, not only would he steal from the wealthy man, but he would also murder him.  He was in a great rage.  He was enslaved to his rage and it was driving him to murder.  And so a few weeks later he came back.  Again the dog alerted the guards to Moses presence.  He had totally forgotten the dog.  So he ran and guards gave chase.  Thank God for that dog for Moses’ life was about to change.

To hide from the guards Moses hid within a monastery (near Alexandria Egypt).  It was the closest place to hide.  And there he stayed waiting for things to cool down.  The monks welcomed him and took care of him.  They had no idea he was a wanted criminal.    This kind welcome was something new to Moses and it surprised him.  Nobody had ever welcomed him with such charity. 

The life of the monks impressed Moses.  The dedication of their lives to prayer and honest work as well as their peace and contentment influenced Moses deeply.  He wanted that peace.  He wondered if there just might be a connection between prayer, honest work, and peace.  And so for a time he lived as a monk.  He found that it was a good fit for him.  And so he asked for baptism and then he asked to join the community.  The former murderer and thief was now a monk. 

Moses had been a zealous thief, his dedication to stealing, made him a good thief.  He brought this same zealousness to religious life.  He wanted to be the best monk possible.  But it was hard, he kept slipping, he kept sinning, he kept making mistakes.  He was tempted to discouragement.  He wasn’t perfect enough; he wasn’t growing in holiness as quickly as he would have wanted. 

Sensing his frustration, an older monk one morning took Moses to the roof of the monastery and together they watched the sun rise.  As they watched the first rays of the dawn come over the horizon the old monk said to Moses, “Only slowly do the rays of the sun drive away the night and usher in a new day, and thus only slowly does one become perfect.”  Don’t give up; don’t give into the temptation of discouragement.  He didn’t, he became a Saint.  Moses died at the age of 75 on July 1^st, 405 AD.  Today we know him as St. Moses the Black.  Ironically he was martyred by men who were looting the monastery looking for treasure. 

What to do about anger.  Throughout the past two millennia there have been quite a few saints who struggled with anger.  And they would recommend the following three points. 

1.  Take a break.  Step back, I had a priest once tell me that when anger comes to go and run around the block, maybe even yell into a pillow.  And then go and talk to our Lord. He wants us to talk to Him, to talk to Him in our anger, tell him what we feel, right to his face.  He’s a father and he wants to be involved in our lives, even in the midst of anger.  In all things, we always turn to God, especially when we are feeling less than holy!  Often when we talk to God in our anger we are able to calm down, God restores the peace in our hearts.  St. Jerome, famous for his anger, when he was in the midst of an argument and he knew he had lost his calm, he would take a break, sometimes for as long as two years. He’d go to the desert and pray.   A conversation can always be resumed at a later date after cooler heads prevail. 

2. Listen and focus.  Arguments spiral out of control when we aren’t actually talking to each other.  We instead try to prove the other person wrong and force them to surrender and they do the same to us.  Instead pray for the grace to think through what the other person is trying to say.  Give them a big benefit of the doubt.  Maybe consider that the other person is having a bad day, or just received terrible news, or is dealing with long-term stress. 

3.  Self-Accusation.  This is the hard one.  We examine our self, even if we are right, maybe our method of communication wasn’t effective.  It probably wasn’t.

Remember, we are little souls right now. And little souls they fall, but like little kids when they fall they get up quickly and keep going.  They keep trying, they trust, they know there’s a father close by to pick them up and make it right.  We are little souls right now, we keep trying and we trust.  This is our formula for heaven.  We are little souls, we keep trying and we trust. 

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher Ankley

Dear Friends,

Each of the lessons taught in today’s Gospel could be expanded into an entire book.  The core of them all, however, is in the heart.  Now certainly, our exterior behavior must follow God’s will. This is what Jesus means when he says, “Do not think I have come to abolish the law…”  But Jesus is trying to tell us that exterior behavior, that appearances, are not enough.   For a true, faithful citizen of Christ’s Kingdom, the attitudes and desires of the heart must also be in harmony with God’s plan for our lives.  This is what Jesus means when he says: “I have come… to fulfill…” – to bring the Old Testament Law to its fulfillment.  Friendship with God (which is what Jesus offers) requires a union of hearts. Our heart united with His.

Christ is explaining the Law from this perspective when he explains the true meaning of sinful anger, lust, and lying.   If God “wills all to be saved” (1Timothy 2:4), how can our friendship with Him be complete when we harbor resentment or contempt towards some people, or tarnish their good name by spreading rumors about them or speaking ill of them?   How can I live in intimacy with a God who loves every man and woman as a father loves his children, when in my heart I desire to use some of them only as an object of pleasure and self-indulgence?  How can I be a true friend of God, when I make promises that I don’t intend to keep?  Some may be satisfied with merely exterior observances; Christ, however, is interested in our hearts as well.  His heart seeks our heart.  His heart wants our heart. 

There was a woman in 17^th century France who as a young girl repeatedly sought our Lord’s loving heart.  She wrote in her autobiography, “All my desire was to seek happiness and comfort Him,” and in front of the tabernacle she would meditate on our Lord’s great loving heart.  The woman’s name was Margaret Mary Alacoque.  She was born in 1647 and when she was eight years old her father died making it necessary for her older sister and her older sister’s husband to take charge of the family’s business and household.  This was bad for Margaret because from this point on she was treated little better than a slave.  It was during this time that she repeatedly sought the peace of our Lord housed in the Church’s tabernacle.  However, as it was quite a distance away from home, she was rarely allowed out to go to the church.  They didn’t believe that she was going to pray.  “Oh sure you’re going off to pray,” they would say.  They thought it was an excuse to go off and meet some boy or some other mischief.  As she got older there was extreme pressure for her to marry and move out.  But she refused all offers of marriage.  Finally, at the age of twenty four with the financial help of an older brother she was able to enter the Visitation Convent. 

Her first days at the convent were not easy.  She was described as quiet, slow, and clumsy.  However, two years after joining the convent, she was blessed by our Lord on December 27^th, 1673. On that day she received her first private revelation, an encounter with the Risen Lord.  She was alone kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament exposed on the altar, and all at once she felt herself, as she said, invested by the divine Presence and she heard our Lord inviting her to take the place which St. John had occupied at the Last Supper.   It was St. John’s feast day after all.  And she was to rest her head upon His heart.  Our Lord told her that the love of His heart must be made known to all men and women.  Margaret Mary was to be His instrument in getting the message out about the infinite love of His Sacred Heart.   During the next eighteen months our Lord continued to appear to Margaret Mary explaining and developing the first revelation. 

This devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus was revealed at the height of the Jansenist movement.   Jansenists saw God as harsh and not all loving and not merciful.  These revelations given to St. Margaret Mary reminded the Church that Christ, though the second person of the Trinity, was a true man of flesh and blood, and possessed, therefore, a human heart, but a human heart that knows how to love perfectly. He loves in a perfectly human way.   It was the love of Jesus for His heavenly Father and for all of us which motivated every action of His life, especially His redemptive act of sacrifice on the Cross.  Jesus wants us to be at home in His heart.  It was pierced so that we might enter and make whole and soften and purify our own hearts.

Now in the Gospel Jesus is very practical about what can corrupt our hearts. He identifies anger, lust, and dishonesty as hidden viruses capable of damaging, and even destroying, our integrity, our very souls.  But if we are honest with ourselves, all of us will have to admit that we struggle with temptation in each of these areas.  So what are we to do?  When Jesus looks at our hearts, He does not look away. No! He comes with the medicine of his grace to cure us.  He wants us to drink deeply of the spring of water and blood that flow from His Heart.  Let yourself be generous in receiving that grace. 

“If you choose,” the Book of Sirach tells us, “you can keep the commandments; they will save you.”  Every day of our lives, we remain free to choose which thoughts and actions we will commit to, godly ones, or selfish ones.  When a lustful thought flashes through our minds, we don’t have to accept it – we can reject it and turn to Jesus and Mary instead.  When selfish anger boils up in our hearts, we don’t have to let it rule our lives – we can turn to Christ on the cross and learn from him how to turn the other cheek.  When we are tempted to get ahead by compromising the truth, we can hold our tongues and cling to Sirach’s promise:   “Before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him.”

Jesus wants us to choose life, a fulfilling life here on earth and eternal life with him in Heaven, by choosing to reject temptation and follow him.  During this Mass, he will give us the grace we need to make that choice, every day. Let’s thank him for that, and put his grace to good use. 

At Mass you are standing before the Good and merciful and loving Heart wounded Jesus.  You are standing before the open Heart of Jesus and he says to each of us, “Give me that anger, give me that lust, give me that dishonesty, and give me that pride.  Give me all your sin, give it up to me, put it right into my heart and I will take care of it.”  Choose life and good, drink deeply from the springs of love that will refresh and delight and strengthen your soul.

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

Every single one of us is called by Christ to be a leader, in some way or another.  This very simply means we are all called to have a positive influence on others, on those around us.  Maybe some of us can have a wider influence, because a special God-given talent or an important position in society gives us a wider reach.  But every one of us has some kind of reach: within our family, within our circle of friends, classmates, coworkers, or within our community or country.

We are not just isolated, single-cell organisms.  We are members of a Divine Body.  This membership into Christ was brought about by baptism and is constantly renewed and strengthened by the Eucharist.  St. John Chrysostom asked the question:  What is the bread?  And then he answered, it is the Body of Jesus Christ.  And what do those who receive it become?  They become the body of Jesus Christ, not many bodies, but one body.  We are not isolated single persons, all alone.   We are members of a Divine Body.  And Jesus is reminding us today, energetically, that we are called to be salt and light in every one of those relationships – to share with others the meaning, the hope, the forgiveness, and the goodness we ourselves have received from the Lord.

So how do we do it?    How do we exercise this Christian leadership, this influence of salt and light?  Jesus makes it clear that the first and foremost way of being the leaders we are called to be is through our personal example.  “…Your light must shine before others,” he explains, “that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.”

Today at St. Joseph’s its Scout Sunday.  Our Troop is Troop 325.  Now the number 325 just happens to be one of my favorite numbers.  It’s the same number we used at my Seminary to get into the building.  There was a code we had to punch in at each outer door so as to get inside.  And that number was 325.  Why is that my favorite number?

Now my seminary rector chose 325 because that is the date of the Annunciation, March 25^th.  That’s the date Jesus was conceived and began growing within the womb of his Mother Mary.  It’s the very first moment he became human, and his mother formed him.  Now I just said that we are members of the body of Christ.  So in a very real mystical sense we share in our Lord’s conception.  A reason we look to the Blessed Virgin Mary’s help in forming us into a Christian, forming us into a little Jesus.  She has the experience. 

Now one member of the mystical Body of Jesus who was salt and light and has a special connection to scouts is St. George.  He is the patron saint of Scouts and Scouting organizations.  St. George was born in the latter half of the 3^rd century.  His dad was a high ranking Roman soldier and his mom was from Greece.  Both of them were of noble birth and both were Christians.  George right from the beginning was raised in a Christian household.

When George was old enough, he joined the army.  He was a very good soldier and by the time he was almost 30 he became an imperial guard for the emperor.  Only the best soldiers were Imperial Guards.  On February 24, 303 A.D. Diocletian, who had no love for Christians, announced that every Christian the army encountered would be arrested and in addition to this, to prove their loyalty to the State, all soldiers would have to offer sacrifice to the Roman gods.  This would prove that they were a good citizen. 

George refused the order and he even told Diocletian he would not obey.  This really angered Diocletian.  It may seem odd but Diocletian was a friend of George’s family and so he tried to overlook George’s Christianity and disobedience.  But when George went public with his Christianity and his beliefs, Diocletian could no longer keep the information to himself.  And in an effort to save George, Diocletian attempted to convert him to belief in the Roman gods, he offered him land, money, and slaves in exchange for offering just a small sacrifice to the Roman gods.  Just be quiet about your Christianity, he said to George.  Be a Christian in private, offer a sacrifice to the State gods and you’ll be safe.  George would have none of it.  “I’m a Christian through and through, not just at home,” he said.

Finally, after exhausting all other options, Diocletian ordered George’s torture and execution.  In preparation for his death George gave all his money to the poor.  On April 23, 303 A.D., George was decapitated.  Today he is honored as a martyr and is known as one of the 14 Holy Helpers, the Holy Helpers were a group of very popular saints in the Middle Ages. 

If God is calling each of us to be salt and light, calling us to make a real, everlasting difference in the lives of others, then it must be possible for us to do it.

But how?

Today’s First Reading gives a starting list of possibilities: 

¨ “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.”

¨ These correspond to some of the traditional corporal, or material, works of mercy.

We can find another list of possibilities in the traditional spiritual works of mercy:

¨ comforting the sorrowful, 

¨ instructing the ignorant, 

¨ admonishing sinners, 

¨ counseling the doubtful,  

¨ praying for the living and the dead, 

¨ bearing wrongs patiently, 

¨ and forgiving injuries.

Certainly, during this Mass the Holy Spirit will translate these general ideas into some very practical possibilities in the heart of each one of us.

But the Holy Spirit is extremely polite.  He doesn’t want us to be his slaves; he wants us to be his friends.  And so, even though he will inspire good ideas, he will not force us to carry them out.  He leaves us free to say yes or no.  Let’s allow the beauty and the power of this Mass to give us the courage we need this week to fulfill our life-mission just a little bit better than we did last week, being salt and light for a confused and broken world.  We are members of a Divine Body nourished by our Lord’s Body and Blood.  Don’t hide that. 

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher Ankley

Dear Friends,

On August 2, 1707 Mount Vesuvius erupted.  Early in the morning the volcano had begun throwing out dense clouds of smoke and ash.  By mid-day these clouds had thickened and spread to such an extent that the sun was hid from view, and the town of Naples was plunged into darkness.  It was as dark as a winter night.  The only light that was visible was the glare of the flames coming from the crater at the top of the mountain.  There were also streams of boiling lava flowing down the side of the mountain.  And the noise of non-stop thunder added to the terror of the inhabitants of the city below.   It was feared that the burning ashes would set fire to the houses, if even they escaped being buried altogether like that of Pompeii. 

At that time most of the residents of Naples were Catholic, and they knew their only hope was prayer.  The whole city made their way to the tomb of the town patron, St. Januarius.  His intercession was answered very quickly by God, a miracle.  In just a few moments the eruption was over, the lava stopped flowing and there was no more ash.  The darkness vanished, and the sun shined brightly in a cloudless sky.  One moment it was very dark and the next it was very light.

Forty days after his birth Jesus is presented in the Temple.  Simeon an old Jewish man had received a promise that before dying he would see the Christ.  He’d lived his whole life in a darkened fallen world.  But then in a moment of time he sees the promised light, one minute it’s the darkness of a fallen world and the next its divine light.     And he is so overjoyed he breaks out into a song, a canticle.  Looking into the face of the infant Jesus he sings out, “Lord, now you let your servant go in peace; your word has been fulfilled:  my own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people:  a light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”  And the Church prays this same canticle every night before going to bed.  Reminding herself that God keeps His promises, his light shines. 

Thirty three years late, after that presentation in the temple, on a hill outside the gates of Jerusalem Jesus hangs upon a cross crucified, he’s beaten, bruised, and bloodied.  And next to him is a crucified criminal and he too, like Simeon, looks into the face of Jesus and sees that very same light.  He sees beyond the ugliness of crucifixion into the Divine.  After a life of robbery and murder, a life of dark sin, a very dark life, he sees the Divine light.  It’s a moment of conversion.  One moment it is very dark, and the next it is very light. 

Now on that hill the devil is present as well.  But when he looks at Jesus he doesn’t see the Divine, he doesn’t see the light.  He sees only a naked, beaten, bruised, and bloodied man.  He doesn’t see the hidden divinity.  In a sense he is saying to Jesus, “In a very short time you’ll be mine.  There is no escape from death.”  A very dark moment, but the darkness of that Good Friday is followed by the light of Easter Sunday.  Death is conquered; it doesn’t have the final word.  Darkness has not overcome the light.  One moment its very dark and next its very light.

For Christmas I received this icon of Jesus in a boat with two of his apostles.  The tiny boat is surrounded by big dark, choppy, and stormy waves of water.  One apostle cowers in the front of the boat, he’s very frightened.  The other apostle stands looking at Jesus with his arms open imploring Jesus to help them.  He seems to be saying, “Do something Lord!  We are perishing!”  “Wake up!” And there is Jesus at the back of the boat sound asleep, very peaceful.  I was given this icon as a reminder that Jesus is always present, His light is always present.  Even in the midst of a storm, he is present.  Darkness has not overcome the light.  One author put it this way, “Jesus, you are there:  nothing, nothing happens, not a hair falls from our heads, without your permission.  I have no right to worry.  Perhaps He is sleeping in the boat, but He is there.  He is always there.  He is all powerful; nothing escapes His vigilance.  He watches over each one of us.  He is all love, all tenderness.” 

Our Lord’s light is always present, it can be found at the baptismal font, in the confessional, in the tabernacle, in the baptized souls of those around us, and in prayer.  May we have the faith of the people of Naples in 1707, the faith of Simeon, and the faith of the good thief.  Knowing always that darkness has not overcome the light, and it never will.    Good Friday darkness is always followed by Easter light!

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

From a homily by Saint John Chrysostom , bishop

For love of Christ, Paul bore every burden

Paul, more than anyone else, has shown us what man really is, and in what our nobility consists, and of what virtue this particular animal is capable. Each day he aimed ever higher; each day he rose up with greater ardor and faced with new eagerness the dangers that threatened him. He summed up his attitude in the words: I forget what is behind me and push on to what lies ahead. When he saw death imminent, he bade others share his joy: Rejoice and be glad with me! And when danger, injustice and abuse threatened, he said: I am content with weakness, mistreatment and persecution. These he called the weapons of righteousness, thus telling us that he derived immense profit from them.

Thus, amid the traps set for him by his enemies, with exultant heart he turned their every attack into a victory for himself; constantly beaten, abused and cursed, he boasted of it as though he were celebrating a triumphal procession and taking trophies home, and offered thanks to God for it all: Thanks be to God who is always victorious in us! This is why he was far more eager for the shameful abuse that his zeal in preaching brought upon him than we are for the most pleasing honours, more eager for death than we are for life, for poverty than we are for wealth; he yearned for toil far more than others yearn for rest after toil. The one thing he feared, indeed dreaded, was to offend God; nothing else could sway him. Therefore, the only thing he really wanted was always to please God.

The most important thing of all to him, however, was that he knew himself to be loved by Christ. Enjoying this love, he considered himself happier than anyone else; were he without it, it would be no satisfaction to be the friend of principalities and powers. He preferred to be thus loved and be the least of all, or even to be among the damned, than to be without that love and be among the great and honored.

To be separated from that love was, in his eyes, the greatest and most extraordinary of torments; the pain of that loss would alone have been hell, and endless, unbearable torture. So too, in being loved by Christ he thought of himself as possessing life, the world, the angels, present and future, the kingdom, the promise and countless blessings. Apart from that love nothing saddened or delighted him; for nothing earthly did he regard as bitter or sweet.

Paul set no store by the things that fill our visible world, any more than a man sets value on the withered grass of the field. As for tyrannical rulers or the people enraged against him, he paid them no more heed than gnats. Death itself and pain and whatever torments might come were but child’s play to him, provided that thereby he might bear some burden for the sake of Christ.

From a sermon by Saint Augustine, bishop
The Voice is John, the Word is Christ

John is the voice, but the Lord is the Word who was in the beginning. John is the voice that lasts for a time; from the beginning Christ is the Word who lives forever. Take away the word, the meaning, and what is the voice? Where there is no understanding, there is only a meaningless sound. The voice without the word strikes the ear but does not build up the heart.

However, let us observe what happens when we first seek to build up our hearts. When I think about what I am going to say, the word or message is already in my heart. When I want to speak to you, I look for a way to share with your heart what is already in mine.

In my search for a way to let this message reach you, so that the word already in my heart may find a place also in yours, I use my voice to speak to you. The sound of my voice brings the meaning of the word to you and then passes away. The word which the sound has brought to you is now in your heart, and yet it is still also in mine.

When the word has been conveyed to you, does not the sound seem to say: The word ought to grow, and I should diminish? The sound of the voice has made itself heard in the service of the word, and has gone away, as though it were saying: My joy is complete. Let us hold on to the word; we must not lose the word conceived inwardly in our hearts.

Do you need proof that the voice passes away but the divine Word remains? Where is John’s baptism today? It served its purpose, and it went away. Now it is Christ’s baptism that we celebrate. It is in Christ that we all believe; we hope for salvation in him. This is the message the voice cried out.

Because it is hard to distinguish word from voice, even John himself was thought to be the Christ. The voice was thought to be the word. But the voice acknowledged what is was, anxious not to give offense to the word. I am not the Christ, he said, nor Elijah, nor the prophet. And the question came: Who are you, then? He replied: I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare the way for the Lord.

The voice of one crying in the wilderness is the voice of one breaking the silence. Prepare the way for the Lord, he says, as though he were saying: “I speak out in order to lead him into your hearts, but he does not choose to come where I lead him unless you prepare the way for him.”

To prepare the way means to pray well; it means thinking humbly of oneself. We should take our lesson from John the Baptist. He is thought to be the Christ; he declares he is not what they think. He does not take advantage of their mistake to further his own glory.

If he had said, “I am the Christ,” you can imagine how readily he would have been believed, since they believed he was the Christ even before he spoke. But he did not say it; he acknowledged what he was. He pointed out clearly who he was; he humbled himself.

He saw where his salvation lay. He understood that he was a lamp, and his fear was that it might be blown out by the wind of pride.

Dear Friends,

There is a story that the Missionaries of Charity tell of Mother Teresa.   The story is about a Hindu man that Mother Teresa saw lying in the streets of Calcutta and whom she took home to one of the many houses they have for people who are dying.  She cared for him for many days, feeding him, bathing him, and simply talking with him as one person to another, giving him the respect that he deserved as a child of God.  As it became clear that he was soon going to die, she would say to him often, “You have nothing to be afraid of; soon you are going to be with Jesus, soon you are going to be with Jesus.”  As the man had spent most of his life as a  Hindu, he didn’t really know a lot about Jesus and so, moments before  he died he looked at this woman who had taken him in off the streets, provided him with food and shelter and clothing and dignity and asked her, “Is this Jesus anything like you?” 

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany, also known as the Feast of the Manifestation. When Jesus made himself known to the whole world, not just to the Jewish people but to the whole gentile world as well.  In today’s Gospel there are a few key figures that we could focus on; there’s Jesus, His mother Mary, King Herod, the Magi.  And there’s the star.  It was the star that the Magi followed from some far away country.  The star led them to Jesus, God born in the flesh for the salvation of all the world.  Mother Teresa led that Hindu man to Jesus, just as the star led the Magi to Jesus.   Without the appearance of that star, presumably, the Magi would never have left their homeland, would never have met Jesus, and would have remained in ignorance not only about who God is but about the ultimate purpose of life and what it truly means to be human and how to be happy. 

As God once provided those Magi with that star so as to lead them to His son, so in every age He provides “stars” so as to help draw people to Jesus.  In his letter on “Hope” Pope Benedict wrote, “Human life is a journey.  Life is like a voyage on the sea of history, often dark and stormy, a voyage in which we watch for the stars that indicate the route.  The true stars of our life are the people who have lived good lives.  They are lights of hope.”  “Certainly,” the Pope continues, “Jesus Christ is the true light, the sun that has risen above all the shadows of history.  But to reach Him we also need lights close by, people who shine with His light and so guide us along our way.”  Now as we know the greatest of all those close by stars is our Mother Mary.  But there have been countless other stars who have shown us the way, who have lived good lives, and have made Jesus known to us.  Blessed Teresa of Calcutta was one of them. 

As we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany, as we reflect upon the stars in our lives.  The stars that have helped us to know Jesus and how to truly live.   I think that today our Lord is offering each of us a challenge.  That challenge is to become more and more a star ourselves.   Not a popstar, not a Kardashian type star, but a star of divine light.  The baptismal call, the mission, given by God to each of us is to, in some way, be intentional about helping others come to know Jesus.  We do this by the witness of our lives and by our words.  We can’t be silent about our faith.  It can’t be hidden. 

The mission is simply this:  to know Jesus and to make Him known.  The mission is to let the light of Jesus shine through us, not for an hour once a week but in all the hours of the whole week.  The mission is to have the intention in every situation, wherever we are, to bring Jesus by the witness of our lives and the words we 0speak. This was Mother Teresa’s intention; it’s why she made such an impression on the whole world.  She was a light of Christ.  She had the aroma of Jesus as St. Paul would say. 

Hundreds of years before Mother Teresa there was another star who single-handedly, not in legend but in fact, converted all of Ireland.  St. Patrick is famous for many things and there is a prayer that he prayed at the start of each day.  It’s called the Breastplate of St. Patrick; in it he prays to be so conformed to Jesus Christ that when others see him they see only Jesus Christ.  This is the ultimate goal of Christianity; to be another Christ.  It might be a great prayer for us as we begin 2023.  It goes like this:  “Christ be in the eyes of all who see me, in the ears of all who hear me, on the lips of all who speak of me, in the minds of all who think of me, in the hearts of all who love me.  Christ be before me, behind me, above me, beneath me; Christ on my right and my left.  Christ be my all.”

May our lives, like the Star of Bethlehem, Mother Teresa, and St. Patrick, help lead others to Jesus. 

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher Ankley

Dear Friends,

Every day in my email inbox I have something from Church Pop.  Their logo is a Popsicle on a stick with a halo around it, very creative.  The article/video they send is always interesting and orthodox.  Church Pop is a subsidiary of EWTN.  A few days before Christmas I received my usual Church Pop and it was an article about Precepe.  Precepe are the Italian version of the Nativity.  Precepe are more than just Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, a few animals, shepherds, and Kings.  They are usually whole cityscapes with shops, and houses, and farms, and courtyards, and lots of people.  Lots of people doing various activities, some are working, playing, resting, and just going on about their day.  Precepe are very busy and involved, and they take up a lot of space. 

And usually it’s very hard to find the Holy Family.  They are not in the front and center; they’re usually off to the side, almost hidden.  To find the Holy Family in the Precepe is like trying to find Waldo.  It takes effort.  And that’s the point.  Hardly anyone knew when the King of Kings was born.  Except for a few shepherds and the Wise men, nobody knew of our Lord’s birth.  The rest of the world went on; business as usual. 

Now the Shepherds knew because of the Angel’s message.  The angel came to them saying,  “Today in the City of David a Savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord.  And this will be a sign for you; you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a

manger.”  But what was difficult then is not difficult today.  Today it’s not hard to find Jesus; it’s not hard to find our Lord.  He can be found in every tabernacle in every Catholic Church across the world.  Under the veil of Eucharistic Bread the fullness of our Lord’s humanity and divinity is present and waiting. 

Our Lord once said this about the Eucharist to a mystic, “Come to Me in the Sacrament of My love and I will fill you with the sweetness of My friendship.  Know that there is no companionship on earth that can be compared with Mine.  For this too did I institute the Sacrament and Sacrifice of My Body and Blood:  so that souls might find Me present in My churches and, by remaining in My presence, learn from Me all that I have heard from My Father.  For this reason do I call you friends.  You are My friends because, from the tabernacle where I am present, and from the monstrance that exposes Me to your gaze, I will share with you the secrets of My Heart.” 

Our Lord also told this same mystic, that to be in the presence of the Eucharist, whether in a tabernacle or a monstrance is to sit within the loving gaze of his Eucharistic face, a privileged place to rest and be in peace.  In our first reading we are given a blessing that prays for exactly this, to be in the presence of the Face of our Lord.  We read, The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you! The Lord look upon you kindly and give you

peace!  To sit before the Eucharist (Tabernacle or Monstrance) is to let His Face shine upon us.

In this upcoming New Year, find some time each week, put it right into your schedule, to just come and sit with our Lord, here at St. Joseph’s/St. Jerome’s. He is not hard to find and don’t worry about what you’ll pray or say, you don’t need an agenda of prayer, just come and be.   He’s always here waiting, see what happens, you will not regret it.  The world out there may go on, business as usual, but in here, with Our Lord we have rest, peace, and consolation.  He graces us so that we can make Him present out there. 

The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you! The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace! 

Happy New Year!

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

Dear Friends,

On this final Sunday of Advent we are presented with two men, Ahaz of the Old Testament and Joseph of the New Testament.  One trusted in God the other did not.

Our first reading from Isaiah is one of the most descriptive prophesies foretelling of the future messianic king, the Christ.  Ahaz is a descendent of King David and he is the king of Judah; he’s  young and inexperienced.  And he’s expecting his country to be attacked from the combined forces of Israel and Syria.   Ahaz is not in a good spot and he’s wondering whether to trust in God or to maybe depend upon the neighboring army of Assyria, who he’s asked to help him in defense of his country.  God tells Ahaz to ask for a sign, but Ahaz refuses.  He’d rather decide his own fate and that of his kingdom rather than trusting in God.  He says, “I will not ask!  I will not tempt the Lord!”

Now Ahaz might appear to be holy and pious when he says, “I will not tempt God,”  but actually what he’s saying is that he doesn’t want anyone telling him what to do; he wasn’t going to allow this prophet of God to determine his plans.

God was inviting him to ask for anything no matter how big or how grand, but Ahaz was afraid to trust God, and so he refused.  Isaiah, frustrated responds, “Is it not enough for you to weary people, must you also weary my God!”

Sometimes I think we react a lot like Ahaz.  We’d rather put our trust in ourselves and in those around us who we can see rather than to trust in God, whom we can’t see.  Maybe God seems too out of reach for us, and in our weakness or fear, we just push Him aside and put our trust in our self or in  others.

As we know we are sometimes tempted like Ahaz to trust in our own ability to solve problems and find happiness.  We do this rather than being vulnerable by trusting in God. We do this because God might lead us down a path that is unfamiliar and uncomfortable.  We are not ready to reject the so-called happiness that the world offers.  Fr. Cantalamessa, the papal preacher, points out that the problem with this age (those who don’t follow Christ, and often even many who do), is that they’ve turned upside-down the manner of finding happiness.  Instead of making God their happiness, they’ve made happiness their “god.”  When you make God your happiness, God gives you happiness.  You find both God and happiness.  But when you make happiness your “god,” that is, when you seek happiness in money, power, pleasure, or honor rather than God, you lose both.  You lose both happiness and God.

There is a story of a young man who had avoided going to Church because he knew that if he started taking his faith seriously, he’d have to change his life.  It took him years to realize that his immoral lifestyle did not bring him happiness.  When he finally took the step to return to the Lord, everything changes.  Others told him that he wasn’t the same guy.  He agreed, “That’s right,” he said, “I’m happy now.”  Perhaps there are times that we think that embracing God in our lives would cost too much.  And, consequently we end up avoiding happiness.  There is a temptation in all of us to act like Ahaz.

Even after Ahaz rejects God, God tells him – I will give you a sign; the virgin will conceive and bear a son.  She will name him Emmanuel: Emmanuel meaning God is with us.  God is telling Ahaz, just as he’s telling us:  do not be afraid; trust me, I am with you.

In our Gospel from Matthew we have our second Advent man, Joseph.  And Joseph like Ahaz is also a descendant of David and he is told by an angel, “Do not be afraid to take Mary, your wife, into your home.”  What might he be afraid of?  There was the fear of what others might think.  Perhaps Joseph was fearful and worried about what this Mary was really like.  He knew he wasn’t the father of the child she carried.  Perhaps he was fearful of the religious authorities.  What if he was caught protecting Mary and she was viewed as violating the Law of Moses. Her pregnancy could be viewed as an offense punishable by stoning.  Or maybe he was afraid that he couldn’t love this child as a father.

 

But the angel told him- do not be afraid.

Trust God, for this child is special and so is his mother. It is the work of the Holy Spirit.  Do not be afraid, trust in God.  And so, unlike Ahaz, Joseph puts his complete trust in God.  God would figure out how to deal with the gossip, God would figure out how to deal with the Law of Moses, and God would figure out how to deal with his concerns about the child.

So: Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us. In His earthly life, Jesus truly showed Himself to be God-with-us. As He healed the sick, and raised the dead, He visibly brought about salvation.

But what about now? Is He still today “Emmanuel, God with us” in so great a way? Yes! Just as He is announced as “Emmanuel” at the beginning of St. Matthew’s Gospel (Mt 1:23), so His final words at the end of Matthew are: “I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Mt 28:20). By the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus comes to live even more intimately in you than He did during the whole of His time on earth. And He wants each of you to know Him just as intimately.

In the Eucharist, He comes to you now in a way even more intimate than the way He was present, in the flesh, on earth. He comes to you now, not only from the outside, as He did when He walked the earth; He comes to you now also on the inside, when you take Him in, “God-with-us” becomes “God-in-you.”  And that is something we can trust.

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher J. Ankley

 

Dear Friends,

Today the color of my chasuble has changed.  I don’t wear violet, today I wear rose. This rose color is a visual symbol that Christmas is getting closer. Just as the dark night sky begins to glow with a pale, rose-colored light as the sun starts to rise, so too the color of my vestments goes from dark to light.  The true light of the world is coming.

In our hearts too the color should be changing. For the first weeks of Advent, we’ve meditated on our need for God; we’ve meditated on our sinfulness, and on our helplessness in achieving salvation on our own.  Today we switch gears. Without forgetting our need for a Savior, we focus our attention more on that Savior himself.

Christ came on the first Christmas into a stable in order to lift up this fallen world.  And he wants to come again into our hearts this Christmas and every day for the same reason, to raise our fallen hearts.  When Jesus came to earth, he met the blind, and gave them sight; he met the poor, and gave them hope; and he met the lame, giving them strength.

He’s begun the very same work in us, and he’s eager to continue it. We are sometimes blinded by ignorance and selfishness, and so he offers us light in the teachings of his Church. We are sometimes poor in virtue, and so he fills us with the gifts of the Holy Spirit. We are sometimes lame and unable to pray as we should, or to bear witness as we should, or to love as we should, and so he heals and strengthens us in the sacrament of reconciliation and nourishes us with His very self in the Eucharist.

Today is Gaudete Sunday, and this word Gaudete means rejoice.   And we rejoice because we know that Jesus came to open a path from earth into heaven. Even in the midst of pain and sorrow the joy of the Christian is the joy of a hope guaranteed by God himself.  The joy of hope is a true joy, and Christ is its source.

This past Thursday was the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception.  And for many years it’s been a tradition for families to set up their nativities right after this Solemnity.  We do it to relive with Mary those days full of trepidation that preceded the birth of Christ.  Now St. Francis set up the first live nativity in the year 1223.  In that year at Christmas St. Francis found himself in the small town of Grecchio.  This was a small Italian town built on the side of a mountain.  And St. Francis wanted Midnight Mass to be celebrated in a place large enough so that all of the people in town could attend.  Their Franciscan chapel was much too small.  So St. Francis went looking for a larger place to celebrate Mass.  And he found the spot.  He found a cave like niche in the side of the mountain near the town square.  “Perfect” he thought, so in this niche within the rock of the mountain he placed an altar.   And then he was inspired, this cave like niche reminded him of the very first Christmas where our Lord was born in similar circumstance.  He said to his brothers, “I want to make a memorial of that Child who was born in Bethlehem and in some sort behold with our eyes the hardships of His infant state, lying on hay in a manger with the ox and donkey standing by.”  And that’s what they did.  He found a manger for a crib and filled it with hay.  He then found both a donkey and an ox and tied them up next to the crib.  There were probably even a few sheep running around.  And that’s where the people of Grecchio celebrated Midnight Mass in the year 1223.  They celebrated Mass in a stable with a manger in their midst and with the townspeople crowding in and around animals.  At that Christmas in a very profound way the townspeople of Grecchio mediated on the hardships and humility of our infant Lord born into a stable.  They also meditated on his infinite love for us to be born in such a way just for us.  This custom of making a Christmas crib was probably not unknown before this time, but this use of it by St. Francis is said to have begun its subsequent popularity.  So we can thank St. Francis for this custom of setting up the Christmas crib.  I can tell you I have three of them set up in the rectory.

I’d like to end with a poem that was sent to me last week.  It’s about a woman named Bilfina, who was too busy for Jesus.

Bilfina, the Housewife, scrubbing her pane

Saw three old sages ride down the lane,

Saw three gray travelers pass her door—

Gaspar, Balthazar and Melchior.

“Where journey you, sirs?” she asked of them.

Balthazar answered, “To Bethlehem,

For we have news of a marvelous thing,

Born in a stable is Christ the King.”

 

“Give Him my welcome!” she said

Then Gaspar smiled,

 

“Come with us, mistress, to greet the child.”

 

“Oh, happily, happily would I fare,

Were my dusting through and I’d polished the stair.”

Old Melchior leaned on his saddle horn,

 

“Then send but a gift to the small Newborn.’

 

“Oh, gladly, gladly, I’d send him one,

Were the hearthstone swept

and my weaving done.

 

As soon as I’ve baked my bread,

I’ll fetch him a pillow for his head,

And a coverlet too,” Bilfina said.

 

“When the rooms are aired and the linen dry,

I’ll look at the Babe,”

But the three rode by.

 

She worked for a day, and a night and a day,

Then gifts in her hands, took up her way.

But she never found where the Christ child lay.

 

And she still wanders at Christmastide,

Houseless whose house was all her pride.

 

Whose heart was tardy, whose gifts were late;

Wanders and knocks at every gate.

 

Crying, “Good people, the bells begin!

Put off your toiling and let love in.”

 

In these remaining days of Advent, don’t let busyness get in the way of  meditating upon Christ in the crib, don’t hide Jesus until the 25^th,  keep him out in plain sight.    Using the image of Christ in the crib to lift your heart and mind to the heights of heaven.  Put off toiling and let love and joy in.

Peace and all good,

Fr. Christopher Ankley