Reflections on 21 Egyptian Coptic Martyrs (Libya) and the beginning of Lent

（based on Sunday's homily - 説教　四旬節第1主日　B年  2015-02-22 英語　MK 1:12-15）

It's the first Sunday of Lent. For us Catholics, Lent is our yearly retreat of 40 days. Just as Jesus spent 40 days in the desert, we will spend 40 days praying, giving alms, and fasting.

We do all of these things for the one purpose of rededicating ourselves to Jesus Christ.

We do all of these things so that we can become closer to Jesus Christ. 

We do all of these in order to renew our baptism.

And it is through baptism that we are united to the passion, the death, and the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

We do all of these things so that we can follow the command of Jesus: “Repent, and believe in the Gospel.”(Mk 1:15)

Icon by Tony Rezk

All this week I have been thinking about and praying about the 21 Egyptian Coptic Christians who were recently murdered by the soldiers of ISIS - Muslims who are violent extremists - in Libya. Perhaps you have seen video of this horrible act of violence on the Internet or on television. ISIS released the video last Sunday.  21 black-clad soldiers of ISIS lead 21 orange-clad prisoners along the beach beside the Mediterranean Sea. The 21 Christian men were made to kneel down at the water’s edge. The news sources did not, of course, show the gruesome scene of the soldiers murdering these poor innocent Egyptian Christians, but we know that as they died, most of them were saying the words: “My Lord Jesus Christ,” or “Jesus, help me.”

This martyrdom affected me in a way that surprised me.  Yesterday I was on the phone with a Muslim friend.  I had called about another matter, but when the subject of this horrible event came up in conversation, I suddenly found myself all choked up with tears running down my cheeks. These were tears of sadness, but even more, tears of pride in the victory of martyrdom won by these brothers of mine whom I had never met.  To die for Christ is something I both fear and desire. The stories of the martyrs were a prominent part in my early Catholic education back in the 1950s.  Ever since I was a child, these stories have had a special appeal and fascination for me. My time in Japan, especially my time in Nagasaki - ground made holy by the martyr's blood that flowed there - only deepened my understanding and fascination. A few of the martyrs were my own Augustinian friars and third order (lay) members, both Japanese and foreign born.  More were members of other religious orders or diocesan priests.  The overwhelming majority of them were lay people - some who in the 1700s gave up their lives rather than betray the whereabouts of priests who were serving the underground communities.  Many of the Christians I served there were descendants of these martyrs.  For me, the phrase, "the blood of martyrs is the seed of faith" is not just a nice saying, but a palpable reality.  Proof for me that the "communion of saints" is a living reality.   

The fact that this crime was perpetrated by men claiming to do it in the name of Islam, a faith that is not my own but one for which I have great respect because of the Muslims I know as friends, lends another level of complexity to the whole situation.  The men and women I hold as friends, I know by the fruit of their work and the way they live their lives to be good people who love God as much as I do.  And they grieve the deaths of these Copts as much as I do.  Among the many ideals that Catholicism and Islam hold in common, martyrdom is held in high esteem in both religions. 

Catholics are warned not to actively seek out martyrdom, but to pray for the grace and strength from God to be able to withstand it. Should the Lord be pleased to call me to such a privilege, I just hope I will be able to rely on His mercy enough so that His strength will see me through. 

From the video released by ISIS Feb. 15. 

These Coptic Christians gave their lives for Jesus Christ.  

They died because they were Christians. These men are glorious martyrs for the Christian faith.

These men were not Catholics. It makes no difference.  

Because of their baptism into Jesus Christ; because of their faith in Jesus Christ – because of their love for Jesus Christ, these men are our brothers. And because of the way they died, these men are martyrs, these men are our heroes. 

Pope Francis spoke about these new martyrs on Monday, the day after the video of the executions was released:

I would now like to turn to my native tongue to express feelings of profound sorrow. Today I read about the execution of those twenty-one or twenty-two Coptic Christians. Their only words were: “Jesus, help me!”  They were killed simply for the fact that they were Christians. ... The blood of our Christian brothers and sisters is a testimony which cries out to be heard. It makes no difference whether they be Catholics, Orthodox, Copts or Protestants. They are Christians! Their blood is one and the same. Their blood confesses Christ. As we recall these brothers who died only because they confessed Christ, I ask that we encourage each another to go forward with this ecumenism which is giving us strength, the ecumenism of blood. The martyrs belong to all Christians.

“Me permito recurrir a mi lengua materna para expresar un hondo y triste sentimiento. Hoy pude leer la ejecución de esos ...21... cristianos coptos. Solamente decía Jesús ayúdame. Fueron asesinados por el sólo hecho de ser cristianos. ... La sangre de nuestros hermanos cristianos es un testimonio que grita. Sean católicos, ortodoxos, coptos, luteranos, no interesa: son cristianos. Y la sangre es la misma, la sangre confiesa a Cristo. Recordando a estos hermanos que han sido muertos por el sólo hecho de confesar a Cristo, pido que nos animemos mutuamente a seguir adelante con este ecumenismo que nos está alentando el ecumenismo de la sangre. Los mártires son de todos los cristianos, recemos unos por los otros”.

In Christianity, martyrs are our spiritual heroes. They inspire us. They make us want to love Jesus more strongly.  In the 2000 years of Christian History, there has been martyrs in every age. Probably none so many as in our present age. Not only the 21 Egyptian martyrs of Libya, hundreds and hundreds have died in Nigeria, Iraq, Syria, and many other nations. Most of them are men and women we never hear about. Earlier this month, Pope Francis recognize Bishop Oscar Romero as a martyr, Bishop Romero was assassinated in El Salvador in 1980.

Christ, in his mercy, gave these 21 Coptic Christian men the grace to be able to die for him. In dying for Christ they gave glory to Christ.

Not all of us will receive that grace.

But we know that Christ in his mercy will give to you and me the grace to be able to live for him. As we enter Lent, we ask Jesus for the grace of renewal. So that in living for Jesus Christ we can give glory to Jesus Christ.  We know that Christ will give us that grace of renewal if we turn to him sincerely in our hearts and ask him for that grace -  ask him for the grace of repentance – ask him for the grace to believe in the Gospel. And recieving that grace, we must follow through upon it.   

Brothers and sisters,

As we enter into these 40 holy days of Lent, let us ask all the martyrs who have gone before us to pray for us to God.  We are united with them throught the Communion of Saints!

Let us ask St. Steven the very first martyr to intercede for us with his prayers. 

Let us implore Saints Peter, Andrew, James, Phillip, Thomas, Matthew, Bartholomew, Paul, - apostles and martyrs to intercede for us with their prayers. 

Let us beg for the intercessory prayers of Bishop Oscar Romero.

Let us ask for the prayers of the martyrs of the 21^st century including the 21 Egyptian Coptic martyrs of Libya,

...that during Lent, God might grant us the grace to deepen our relationship with Jesus Christ so that we can give glory to him in the way we live.

---------------

Here is a link to a short conversation on a call-in radio program of a man whose two brothers were martyred in this incident:

http://youtu.be/-yCmnyzYeW8

楓橋夜泊： Here's a 6-minute video about one of my favorite poems.

Friday Night Music

Two songs: 

Knocking on Heaven's Door

Oh! Darling

俳句：学年の最後の日

毎年の六月の半ばの思い出

The last day of school

sweet scent of honeysuckle

brings back the old days.

Poem: four men

four men

the man who walks beside me on my right

walks with a slight limp.

Four Men Walking
by Theodore Major

he’s wearing plaid flannel.

his face bears a grin.

he hums a simple tune.

repetitive. just loud enough to be heard.

out the corner of my eye to the left

I see another man walking.

we walk almost in step.

he has a pained look on his face. intense. slightly angry.

his left hand grasps his upper right arm.

his bare lower arm shows an old tattoo – faded and muddied.

I don’t know what it is.

I don’t need to turn my head to see

the guy walking behind me.

I know that he’s there.

he mutters under his breath.

every once in a while

he steps on the heel of my shoe.

he falls back a little.

then whispers “sorry” loud enough for me to hear him.

the man walking ahead of me just happens to be there.

I am not following him.

he strides purposefully, yet relaxed.

he’s older.

he’s completely bald,

and yet I see flakes of dandruff on the shoulders

of his dark herringbone tweed.

Who are these men?

Where are we going?

Why are we together?
What are they to me?

Can Catholics Sing?

Written for OLGC Parish Bulletin for Sunday, May 20, 2012. 

Dear Friends, 
About 20 years ago, Thomas Day wrote a book called: “Why Catholics Can't Sing.” A major premise of his book was that especially on the East Coast of the United States during the formative years of Catholicism in America, most of the bishops in major US cities were either Irish were of Irish descent. Earlier, during the years 1660 to 1760, when the British were persecuting Catholics in Ireland - a period known as “The Penal Times,” Catholic priests were wanted men. Hiding their identities, they traveled from village to village and offered Mass often on stones known as “Mass Rocks” located in wooded areas. Huddled together, praying the Mass with their frightened congregations, the last thing they wanted to do was to attract the attention of the British patrols. Singing was absolutely out of the question. The whole liturgy passsed in near perfect silence.

Click image to view larger version. 

In July of 1985, I attended an O'Doherty family reunion in Donegal, Ireland, and had the privilege of concelebrating Mass around one of those Mass Rocks where my own ancestors may have worshiped a few centuries before.

Professor Day reasons that the fear and trauma of that era affected subsequent generations of Irish Catholics, and by extension, the Catholics in parishes and dioceses in the United States where Irish priests were sent to minister. Professor Day accurately points out that among Catholics in the Midwest, where most of the bishops in the 19th and early 20th century were from Germany or of German descent, congregational singing at Mass has always been much stronger than on the East Coast.

One of the central aspects of Catholicism that makes it so distinctive is the incarnational aspect of our faith. That is, “The Word (Christ) became flesh and dwelt among us.”  That incarnational aspect extends even to our own flesh, our own bodies. The way we experience our faith and express our faith, the way we worship must include the way we use our bodies. That is one of the reasons that the rubrics of the mass are so important. Standing, sitting, kneeling, praying responding out loud, being in silent meditation, actively listening - all of these things are things that we do with our bodies. One of the reasons I worry so much about children in our parish school and religious education program who study our faith but do not attend Mass regularly, is that they are learning the faith in their heads, but they are not learning the faith with their bodies. The incarnational aspect of Catholicism also means that what we do with our bodies expresses and deepens our love for God.

This is where singing comes in. I am proud of my Irish-American Catholic heritage. But I reject the notion that that heritage should keep any of us from singing our lungs out to express the love and the gratitude that we have for the God who created us, that God who loves us, the God who gives us life.

In the weeks and months ahead let us work together to improve congregational singing in our parish community. To those of you who are already singing, I invite you to put your heart in it even more. To those of you who have not yet found your voice, I invite you to step out and to use your voice as a tool for praising God. There are many who tell me, “God did not give me a good voice.” Well, give it back to him!

In the next few weeks I will be assisting the music ministry in cantoring at some of the Masses. The music ministry is there primarily to support the singing of the whole worshiping community, not to sing on their behalf. In these next weeks and months let us work together to praise our God more fervently through our singing together as a community.

Father Liam 

Easter Message

On Easter more then twice the usual number of people come to Mass.  I thought it was important that everyone heard this message of welcome, so I delivered it at the end of every Mass today:

Today, on this holiest of days, as pastor of Our Lady of Good Council parish, I wish to extend a word of thanks and of welcome to all who are here today – to those of you we see every week, to those of you who have traveled a distance to be here with friends and relatives and to those of you who live close by. 

To all of you we say welcome. 

And to those of you who live close by but are not regular members of any parish, we invite you to join with us.
We try to be an open and welcoming community.
We are a very diverse community. 

Sometimes people might think of a Catholic parish as a “club for saints.”
Believe me, that is not what we are.
Many years ago I heard a monsignor refer to parish as a “hospital for sinners.”
That’s much more accurate an image!

While OLGC is not a club for saints, there are many holy men and women who are part of the mix here.  And many more of us are in the tradition of St. Augustine, seekers after truth, as well as doubters, questioners, a mixture of people who love to serve others, of people who love to pray and study together and grow in their faith together, of people of deep faith who love to worship God, and of people who earnestly struggle in their life of faith.  You will find here people who are poor and people who are better off.  You will find here people whose families have been here for generations and people who recently entered this country.  You will find mostly Catholics here, but also people of other religions and traditions who choose to worship and walk with us.  You will find people of many nations, many ethnic groups, and many varieties of marital status, immigration status, and sexual orientation.

Just as Jesus welcomed all, we welcome all and invite all to worship with us and to walk with us our journey of faith.   

The Peace Pole comes to OLGC

This is from a recent bulletin article I wrote. 

Dear Friends,

Liam and Jorge at the Peace Pole

Soon after I arrived in Japan I started to notice while poles standing in various locations, sometimes in parks, sometimes on the grounds of Buddhist temples, sometimes in front of Christian churches.  In black letters they had the words: “世界人類が平和でありますように”(May peace prevail upon earth).  Later I heard the story of how these peace poles got started. 

The Peace Pole Project is the official Project of The World Peace Prayer Society. It started in Japan in 1955 by Masahisa Goi, who decided to dedicate his life to spreading the message, “May Peace Prevail on Earth” in response to the bombings on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Peace Poles are handcrafted monuments erected the world over as international symbols of Peace. Their purpose is to spread the message “May Peace Prevail on Earth” in the languages of the world.

Mr. Goi believed that Peace begins in the heart and mind of each individual. As war begins with thoughts of war, Peace begins with thoughts of Peace. The Peace Pole reminds us to keep Peace ever-present in our thoughts. As we learn to honor one another, our environment, plants, animals and all creation on Earth, the vision of global Peace will gradually become a natural way of life, a true culture of Peace.

Peace Poles can be found in town squares, city halls, schools, places of worship, parks, and gardens - any place where the spirit of Peace is embraced by people of good will. Since the beginning of the project over 200,000 Peace Poles have been planted in over 200 countries around the world.

Some of the extraordinary locations include the Pyramids of El Giza in Egypt, the Magnetic North Pole in Canada, Gorky Park in Russia, and Angkor Wat in Cambodia. They are promoting healing of conflict in places like Sarajevo, the Atomic Bomb Dome in Hiroshima, and the Allenby Bridge on the border between Israel and Jordan. 

Mayors in many parts of the world have planted Peace Poles to dedicate their cities and towns to world Peace. Both political leaders, such as former U.S. President Jimmy Carter, and religious leaders, such as Pope John Paul II, Mother Teresa and the Dalia Lama, have dedicated Peace Poles.

Currently, Building Bridges Coalition of Staten Island is sponsoring a Peace Pole.  For one year it is spending one or two weeks in churches, synagogues, mosques, temples and various other houses of worship around Staten Island.  Eventually it will be installed at the Ferry Terminal at the end of the year. 

We will welcome the pole to OLGC on May the 11^th and it will be with us for 10 days before moving on to the Unitarian Church of Staten Island.  Let it be for us a reminder that peace begins with each one of us. 

Sincerely,

Father Liam 

Singing for an Audience

My father's father was William Thomas O'Doherty. He was born in Donegal near Malin Head, the northernmost point in all of Ireland. Grandfather William died when my father was nine years old. As a young man, my father was very active in the various Irish societies of Delaware County, Pennsylvania. Although he had never been to Ireland himself until later, when he was nearly 40 years old, he took great pride in the in the place where his father was born. In this context, he instructed me to respond with the words, “I'm from Malin Head, Donegal,” whenever anyone would ask where I was from.

One day in September of 1955, soon after I had started the first grade at Blessed Virgin Mary School in Darby, Pennsylvania, I asked permission to go to the lavatory. On my way back to the classroom, I took my time, looking around at the posters in the corridor. All of a sudden the towering form of the eighth grade nun appeared in front of me. With hands on her hips she looked down at me and demanded, “Where are you from, young man?” The correct answer would have been: “The first grade,” but instead, I responded as I had been trained. I looked up at her and said, “I'm from Malin Head, Donegal.” Sister tried to stifle a smile and said to me, “Can you sing an Irish song?” I said, “Yes, I can.” “Then come with me," she said.

She led me into the eighth grade boys classroom. She said to the boys, “this is Liam O’Doherty from the first grade and he's going to sing us an Irish song.” So I launched into, “If You're Irish Come into the Parlor." At the end of the song, the eighth-grade boys went nuts with applause. It felt kinda nice. Then the sister said, “Can you sing another one?” I responded, “I can sing ‘Hello Patsy Fagan.’” So she had me sing that too. Again, there was rousing applause from the eighth grade boys.

From that day to this I have always enjoyed singing for an audience. I don't claim to have a great voice. Whenever I join a new chorus, I always tell the director that I have a “utilitarian” voice: I hit most of the notes most of the time. Whether singing with a chorus or singing solo accompanied by guitar or ukulele, I practiced hard to be able to sing to the best of my of ability, however limited that may be.

onstage at the NYC ukulele meetup open mike,
basement of Maui Taco, 5th Avenue, NYC

Since the beginning of January, one Friday evening each month I have been attending the New York City Ukulele Meetup Group’s open mike. I've been playing the ukulele for a little over two years, but not much in public before the January open mike. Having a place to go to sing and play in front of other amateur musicians has been a good stimulus for me to practice more and to try more challenging material. One of the things that I love about this gathering is that they are so accepting and appreciative of people who don't have a lot of experience. The range of performers runs the gamut from beginners to very talented and accomplished amateur musicians.

Last Friday evening was my fourth appearance at the open mike. I chose two songs about 10 days before the performance and tried to practice them a little bit each day. My first song was "Oh! Darling" by Lennon and McCartney. After the break when my turn came around again, I sang “The House Where Nobody Lives” by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan. Both times I was nervous when I stood up in front of them all.  And both times something clicked. I could tell that my hours of practice had paid off and that I was connecting with the audience. Both times the applause was more enthusiastic than it had been my previous three appearances. And yes, both times I thought back to that scene in the front of Sister Andrea's eighth grade boys classroom. Also received very encouraging compliments afterwards about my interpretation of the two pieces.  And that felt good too. 

Perhaps a mild form of something like adrenaline addiction?

Making Ashes

This is the Bulletin Letter that I wrote for the 1st Sunday of Lent.

Dear Friends,

This past Monday morning just before lunch, I changed into my blue jeans and an old sweatshirt. I took the two baskets full of palm from last year, and using a couple of large metal pots from the church basement, burnt the palm down to ashes. We used some of those ashes for Ash Wednesday. Monday was a windy day, so it was a little tricky. The wind seemed to change directions every couple of minutes, so that whenever I moved to avoid the smoke, the smoke seems to follow me.

Since sometime last week, when I first mentioned that I intended to burn the palms on Monday, Father Jim more than once reminded me, “You know, there are plenty of religious goods companies that will supply us with ashes already burned, ground, sifted and packed in little plastic bags already to use. No need to worry about getting your clothes all smelly and maybe your fingers burned.” But I told him that I wanted to do it anyway. I burned palm to make the ashes almost every year when I was pastor in Nagoya, and even some years when I was parochial vicar in Nagasaki. There is just something about watching the flames transform the pale-colored palm fronds into the black ash that captures my imagination and grabs my heart.

Since the beginning of this year, I've mentioned more than once in this column, and in my homilies, about the power that the Gospel has to transform our lives, to transform our hearts. Lent is probably one of the best season of the church year to let the Lord transform us. As I watch the flames transform the palm into ashes, I think of the words that the priests always used in the past when he applied the ashes on the foreheads of the penitents: “Remember man that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shall return.”

God has gifted every one of us with many talents and abilities. Most of us have made sincere efforts to build on those gifts. But the ashes of Ash Wednesday remind us that in a way we start over again each year in humility - creatures beginning again from dust with our hearts open to allow the Creator of all, the Lover of us all, our Lord God to transform each one of us into something closer and closer to the image of his Son, Jesus Christ, whom we have chosen to follow.

Let us pray for each other during this period of Lent, that each one of us might respond to the invitation to be transformed, to open our hearts to the grace to be transformed. So that at Easter we might be able to share in the fullest way possible in the victorious new life that Jesus won for us through his death on the Cross and his Resurrection from the grave.

Father Liam

The last haiku of Vacation

‎Thursday, Feb 24

rays glint on ripples
while laughing children chase waves.
sunny Po'ipu.

‎Friday, Feb 25

stand-up paddle board
looks easy from a distance.
I fall like a pro.

sunny veranda
I play my ukulele
while whales breach and spout.

‎Saturday, Feb 26

'neath Na Pali's cliffs
parrot fish passes my mask:
a rainbow that swims. 

Sunday, Feb 27 (last day)

sad to have to leave

but time to return has come. 

aloha for now. 

Domine Iesu, noverim me, noverim te

This is a letter I wrote for the February 6th parish bulletin

Dear Friends,

From time to time you might see me wear my 1967 graduation ring from Monsignor Bonner High School.  I like to wear it and would wear it more often, but it’s kind of big and clunky.  One reason I have been wearing it more in the past few months is because it bears on one side of the stone an image of Our Lady of Good Counsel. 

On the other side of the ring, among a whole bunch of other things, there is a short line from one of my favorite prayers by St. Augustine: “Noverim te,” Latin for “That I might know You.”  Here is the complete prayer:

Lord Jesus, let me know myself and know Thee,

And desire nothing save only Thee.

Let me hate myself and love Thee.

Let me do everything for the sake of Thee.

Let me humble myself and exalt Thee.

Let me think of nothing except Thee.

Let me die to myself and live in Thee.

Let me accept whatever happens as from Thee.

Let me banish self and follow Thee,

And ever desire to follow Thee.

Let me fly from myself and take refuge in Thee,

That I may deserve to be defended by Thee.

Let me fear for myself, let me fear Thee,

And let me be among those who are chosen by Thee.

Let me distrust myself and put my trust in Thee.

Let me be willing to obey for the sake of Thee.

Let me cling to nothing save only to Thee,

And let me be poor because of Thee.

Look upon me, that I may love Thee.

Call me that I may see Thee,

And forever enjoy Thee. Amen.

The path of Augustine’s life, both before and after his conversion, often involved striving to know himself.  Eventually he came to realize that knowing God and knowing himself well were intimately linked together.  By “knowing himself,” Augustine is not talking about navel-gazing.  He learned that he needed to have a realistic idea of who he was, his strengths and his weaknesses – and also his blind spots.  He came to know that trying to deceive himself, trying to fool himself about the kind of a person he was would stagnate his growth as a human being and get in the way of growing in the knowledge of God.  For you and me too, those two parts of the first sentence of Augustine’s prayer are permanently linked: “Lord, that I may know myself; that I may know Thee."

The use of the word “hate” in the third line might surprise us.  I don’t think he means to hate himself as one might hate an enemy (whom Christ himself, after all tells us to love), but instead prays that he might be able to constantly choose Christ over himself. 

This wonderful prayer of St. Augustine shows us the desire that he had to abandon his will and his life to Jesus.  It might take us a while to “grow into” this prayer, but it can be one of many valuable tools in our efforts to grow spiritually and to follow Jesus more closely.   

Keep warm and stay safe!

Sincerely,

Father Liam

Will you let the Gospel transform you in 2011?

This is a letter I wrote for the January 9th parish bulletin

Dear Friends,

This year, so far at least, I have not sat down to write my New Year's resolutions. I still might do that. Although I don't have any resolutions for 2011, I think I kind of have a “theme.” This theme has been on my mind since about the middle of December. This theme is, “The Power of the Gospel to Transform Us.”

Transformation can be mysterious.  It can be wonderful.  It can be scary.  But it’s something that every of us needs.  The alternative is stagnation. 

Saint Augustine

When we read the Confessions of St. Augustine, we read the dramatic story about an intelligent young man - a hard-working young man with a heart that yearned for truth.  He experienced a dramatic transformation when he finally opened his heart to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. In his quest for truth, he explored a number of different exotic teachings before accepting the truth of the Gospel. But only the Gospel of Jesus touched him to his core.  Only the Gospel of Jesus made his heart blossom and his intellect bear fruit. 

When we read or listen to the Gospels, we encounter many stories about how people were changed. Some people were sick. When Jesus entered their lives they were healed. Other people were pursuing a career. Peter, Andrew, James and John were fishing. When Jesus said to them, “Come, follow me,” they dropped their nets and followed him. From that moment onward their lives were changed. Matthew, the tax collector, was sitting at his table, collecting taxes when Jesus said to him, “Come, follow me.” He immediately dropped what he was doing and followed Jesus.

In the cases of Augustine and of these disciples, the moment of conversion was only the beginning. The process of transformation only began with their positive response to the invitation. The process of transformation continued for years. Sometimes the change was dramatic. Sometimes because of human weakness there may have been reversals. But always there was change.

You and me, none of us are “done.” All of us are in need of transformation.

The Gospels are not just any other book. I am firmly convinced that the Gospels have power. The Gospels have power to change you and me as individuals. The Gospels have power to change us as a parish community.  There is a force, a dynamism in the Gospels that we need to let flow through us, over us and around us; we need to become immersed in its energy, its power, its direction, its forcefulness. We need to cast off fear. We need to throw off our doubts. We need to allow Jesus, Our Lord and Our God, be the Lord and God of our hearts. Because it is He who is the power in the Gospels who transforms you and me, who transforms us as a community.

Peace,

Father Liam 

“Let’s all get in the car”

Wrote this for this Sunday's parish bulletin.

When I was in my later years of elementary school and in high school, every six or eight weeks or so, on a Saturday afternoon, Dad would often ask, “Hey, when was the last time we all went to confession?” The three of us, my brother and sister and I, would look at each other in puzzlement, shrug our shoulders, and say, “We don’t know.”

Dad with banjo

Then dad would say, “Well, if you guys don’t know, then I guess it’s time for us to go again. Let’s all get in the car and drive over to church and go to confession.”

During all of my childhood years, both of my parents always gave us very good example when it came to living the faith. Very soon after I learned talk, my mother and father taught me how to say my prayers before going to bed. The idea of doing anything that would get in the way of Sunday Mass just never came up. Such an idea would have been a total non-starter. Dad belonged to a number of Catholic men’s organizations: the Catholic war veterans, the holy name Society, and the Men of Malvern – a Catholic men’s retreat league. Once every year Dad went on a weekend retreat with that Malvern group. Mom was a member of the church choir and the church ladies’ sodality. She used to go on weekend retreats to when we were older. In fact, some of them were right here on Staten Island, at the Mount Augustine Retreat Center which stood not very far from here.

Both of my parents took very seriously their responsibility for giving us children a solid foundation for a strong faith life. I am thankful to both of them. I am especially thankful to my Dad, who in his own way gave me a very deep realization of the importance of frequenting the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Advent, as you know, is one of the two penitential seasons in the church year. It’s an opportunity for us to examine our lives, to examine our consciences, and in a spirit of humility, hope and confidence, approach the Lord to ask him for forgiveness. It’s an opportunity for us to receive the grace of renewal in our relationship with Jesus.

As family members, especially as parents, it is a sign of deep love and concern to encourage those close to us to receive the grace of the sacraments, especially the Sacrament of Reconciliation and Holy Communion during this season of Advent.

As your pastor, I pray for all of you every day. Let us pray for each other, that this period of Advent be an opportunity for all of us to grow closer to our Lord Jesus Christ.