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.

Monday evenings with Johann, Felix and Heinz

As much as I love being Augustinian friar and a Catholic priest, there is something else that gives me great joy as well.  Nearly every Monday evening since 1997 I have spent two hours singing with a group of 40 to 60 men and women, attempting to master selections from the standard classical choral repertoire.  We take off for the summer months, and depending upon the group, have our winter concert in either December or January and our spring concert usually in May. 

From January of 1997 until May of 2008, that group was the Andover Choral Society of Andover, Massachusetts.  Memorable performances were: Rossini's Petite Messe Solenelle, Verdi's Requiem, Mozart's Requiem, Brahms's Ein deutsches Requiem, Orff's Carmina Burana, Mendelssohn's Elijah, and many more.

In May of 2008 I moved to Maggie Valley N.C., where I sang with that Haywood Community Chorus for two concerts (and also snuck back to Andover for a second Elijah in January of ’09).  Last year I spent another full year with ACS when I lived from August 2009 to August 2010 in Massachusetts again. 

Liam. in tux. with hair.

Now, since September the Richmond Choral Society of Staten Island, NY is my Monday night haven.  Less than 2 weeks to go until our concert, there is concern about whether we will completely master the material before Dec. 5th, but I’m not too worried.  On the contrary, there were so many times last evening when I found myself smiling inwardly (and probably outwardly too) as I could hear the (usually) 4 parts (but often 5 or 6 parts) coming together to form such beautiful music.  I walked out of there fully relaxed and light-hearted last night.  These pieces are technically challenging.  Not only are some of the harmonies difficult, but the fugues and contrapuntal juxtapositionings can be extremely complex.  This is especially true of the only piece we are doing by a contemporary composer, the German Heinz Werner Zimmermann.  At ACS we only sang the works of old dead guys. 

I love the feeling of satisfaction I get from working out difficult passages with the men in my own (bass) section and in harmony and counterpoint with the other sections.  The sense of accomplishment when you know that your own hard work and that of the others in the group are coming together to form a thing of beauty is extremely exhilarating!  I wonder has anyone done research about endorphins and the like that are released into the bloodstream and/or flood the brain when this sort of thing happens? 

Besides the Zimmermann, we are also doing J.S. Bach’s Missa Brevis (BWV 234), Felix Mendelssohn’s Jubilate Op. 9 No. 2 and a number of familiar Christmas carols. 

I have tickets if you are interested.  The concert is at St. Peter’s Church (where Msgr. Jim Dorney is pastor – the priest who installed me last week) on Sunday afternoon, Dec. 5 at 5 PM.  

Click HERE for an article about the concert in the Staten Island Advance. 

[By the way, I love wearing my tux!] 

Installation Included

The following is a letter I wrote for next week's parish bulletin

Dear parishioners,

Last Sunday was the very first time I ever attended an installation ceremony.  To the best of my knowledge, the practice of installing pastors in Catholic Churches became widespread sometime between 1977 and 1995, during the time that I was working in Japan. Over there we had no ceremonies for new pastors. The only things that I was familiar with that needed installation, were major household appliances, like a washer or dryer or air conditioner. So I have to admit, that up until very recently, my mental image of an installation ceremony always included the image of the bishop or his representative holding a wrench as he somehow affixed the new pastor someplace on the inside wall of the sanctuary, somewhere between the altar and the ambo.  Admittedly, very silly image!

Receiving keys of the church
from Msgr. Dorney

I found the ceremony to be very meaningful. I was so glad that Msgr. Dorney acted as the Archbishop’s representative in the ceremony. I did not know until a few days before the ceremony, that Msgr. Dorney would begin the Mass as the presider, and that I would take his place as presider of the liturgy after the rite of installation took place. Many of you know Msgr. Dorney. He is a fine pastor and a wonderful man. In the short time I have been here, I have been with him many times at various meetings and celebrations, both Catholic and interfaith. As I mentioned at the end of Mass, he has been extremely helpful in a number of instances where, as someone new to the Archdiocese, I needed advice.

Not only was this the first time I ever attended an installation ceremony; it was also the very first time I presided at a bilingual Mass and the first time I preached a bilingual homily. The homily was longer than I wanted it to be. You can be sure that in the future, such homilies will be shorter.  Aside from that, the liturgy went very smoothly. My thanks to Father Jim Cassidy and to Father Luis Vera for planning the liturgy, and to the choir, the altar servers and all the liturgical ministers who took part. Also a very big thanks to Laura, Katie, Allen, Vilma, Father Jorge and Nelly, plus the rest of the staff and volunteers who worked so hard to prepare for both the Mass and the reception afterwards.

I also want to thank all of you who participated in the Mass, and for all of your kindnesses extended to my family. My mother, Kathleen, very much enjoyed the four days she spent here at OLGC.

Life is full of new beginnings even though many things stay the same. The installation of a new pastor is a new beginning not only for the pastor himself, but is in a sense a new beginning for the whole parish community. Father Jim and I both arrived at the end of the summer, and Father Jorge Luis has been here for over two years, now. Father Jim, as you know, was assigned to this parish a number of years ago. But both of us are still in the process of getting to know the parish. While giving thanks for all that has gone before, gradually a clearer vision of what we need to do to follow Christ more closely will emerge. As I said at the end of Mass last Sunday, we all need to roll up our sleeves and get to the work we have ahead of us. Relying upon the strength that comes from God, let us support each other in that task.

                       Fr. Liam

Gospelizing

Sometimes ya just gotta rely on the ol' Anglo-Saxon for things to make sense for ya.

This is a recent bulletin article that appeared in a slightly different form.  

When many Catholics hear the word “Evangelize” in English, they think of the time someone approached them and asked, “Have you been saved,” or, “Have you accepted Jesus as your Savior?”  Others might know that Evangelization is an important part of the work of the Catholic Church, but that it’s mostly the work of the priests.  For many Catholics, the word “Evangelization” just makes their eyes glaze over. 

Sometimes it helps to translate a word with Latin or Greek origin into good old Anglo-Saxon.  “Evangelization” comes from a Greek word meaning “Good News.”  If you wanted to translate it into Anglo-Saxon-style English, it would come out something like “Gospelizing.”  But that sounds like such an odd word.  “Giving the Gospel to others,” or even better, “Giving the Good News to others” is probably a good definition.   When someone accepts the Good New we give them, it changes them.  It transforms them. 

Evangelization is one of the main responsibilities of a pastor.  I have to make sure that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is faithfully proclaimed and explained in my own homilies and in those of Father Jorge and Father Jim.  I have to see that it is being proclaimed and taught in our parish school and in our religious education program.  I have to see that the Gospel is proclaimed for adults through RCIA and programs like Renew.  Many, many people are actively evangelizing others in this parish, including and very importantly the parents who teach their little ones how to pray, tell them stories about Jesus, Mary and the saints, and most importantly bring them to Mass on weekends. 

Evangelization is a life-long process.  The more we open our hearts to the Gospel, the more it transforms us.  As an adult, as a priest and as pastor, I have a responsibility to make sure that I receive evangelization.  That’s why I make a yearly retreat, make sure I spend time with Holy Scripture and other spiritual reading.  I am evangelized by the friars I live with and by my spiritual director.  I am evangelized by you, the parishioners, who also give me the Gospel, the Good News.   All of us, as baptized Christians, have the duty to evangelize, to give the Good News to each other. 

I have been your pastor for only 2 months now.  As I told you in my first homily, during my first few months, “I intend to observe, participate, ask a lot of questions and strive to understand the way things work in the parish.”  That is still where I am and will be for quite a while.  One thing that is becoming clearer to me is that we as a parish community and I as pastor need to re-evangelize our brother and sister Catholics who no longer worship with us.  From 2004 to 2008, Mass attendance in the churches of Staten Island has decreased 17.2%.  That’s close to 1 out of 5 of our brothers and sisters who seem to have chosen not to position themselves where they can receive the Gospel message.  In love and compassion we need to figure out how to reach out to them.  Praying for them is extremely important, but we also need to consider concrete steps to win them back. 

Father Liam 

Five Days in New Jersey

The following is a letter I wrote for next week's parish bulletin

Dear Parishioners,

Atlantic Ocean

Last week from Monday to Friday I participated in a meeting of pastors from the Archdiocese of New York at a small hotel in Spring Lake, New Jersey, right across the street from the Atlantic Ocean. We pastors prayed together, had meals together and listened to three talks a day. Archbishop Timothy Dolan was with us for the final day and a half of our meetings. For me, having only arrived in the New York archdiocese in August, this was a wonderful opportunity to learn more about the archdiocese and its history, and to get to know face-to-face many of the other pastors working in the Archdiocese. It was also an opportunity to meet some of the chancery officials as well.

The talks were on a wide range of topics: the history of the Archdiocese, preaching, the Second Vatican Council, planning for the parochial schools of the archdiocese, etc. Two priests spoke on strategies for attracting new vocations to the priesthood. A priest who works at the Vatican gave us a talk about the English translation of the new Roman Missal that we Catholics in the United States will begin using in Advent of next year. There were talks about physical and mental wellness and also on finances. The final talk on Friday morning was about spirituality for priests, given by a Jesuit from Philadelphia.

Archbishop Timothy Dolan

For me, the highlight of the week was Thursday, when Archbishop Dolan spoke to us in both the morning and afternoon sessions, and also preached to us at Mass at noontime. The talks that he gave were simple at the same time profound. He started by talking to us about what it means to love Jesus. He made it very clear to us that he sees us pastors as his partners in looking after the needs of all the Catholics and the archdiocese, but at the same time, he is concerned about our souls. He wants to make sure that each of us has a deep and personal relationship with Jesus.

Archbishop Dolan is extremely frank and realistic about the very difficult challenges that are facing this Archdiocese in particular, and the Catholic Church in general in the United States. These challenges are especially worrisome when expressed in numbers. There has been a very sharp decline in Mass attendance. More and more younger Catholics are opting not to marry in the Catholic Church. For most dioceses and religious orders, the number of men entering formation programs and seminaries has dwindled to a mere trickle. In the face of all of these difficult challenges, Archbishop Dolan has a confidence in God’s love and God’s grace that is contagious.  The Cross of Jesus Christ is the foundation of his faith. He is extremely affable and personable, and has an extraordinarily disarming sense of humor. You can tell that he genuinely enjoys spending time with his priests, and that his concern for them is very real.

Soon after I arrived in Staten Island back in August, Archbishop Dolan phoned me to welcome me to the Archdiocese. At that time, he expressed interest in coming out to visit all of us here at Our Lady of Good Counsel. I’m hoping that takes place sometime soon after Easter.

My thanks to Father Jorge, by the way, for writing last week’s bulletin article - the second article about Evangelization.

Sincerely,

Father Liam 

The Jerusalem Temple and our Church – article three

Here is an article I wrote today for our parish's Sunday's Bulletin a few weeks ago. 

From the beginning of Jesus’ life on Earth until close to the end, the Temple is the scene of many episodes.  In Luke’s Gospel he is presented to the Lord as an infant and Mary and Joseph find him there when he was “lost” at age 12.  We know the story of Jesus chasing out the moneychangers from the Temple.  Especially toward the end of his public life he often taught in the temple precincts. 

From what we can tell, the “temple precincts” or outer courts were the places where people gathered to pray, to socialize, sometimes to do business, often to discuss the Torah (the first 5 books of the Hebrew Scriptures) and other things.  These outer courts were separated from the inner courts of the Temple which contained the Holy Place, the Holy of Holies and other chambers where usually only the priests entered and where they offered special prayers, burnt incense, and performed animal sacrifices and other sacred rituals.  In some ways these outer courts were a “buffer” between the inner sanctuary of the Temple, which was the place where God resided on Earth, and the world outside. 

Those outer courts of the Temple remind me of our plaza – also a “buffer.”  There are differences.  The outer courts of the Temple were surrounded by walls and our plaza is not.  A very large portion of our plaza is under a canopy and the outer courts of the Temple were not.  I love to see people gathering and talking before of after Mass on this plaza.  I remember with much pleasure how we all gathered there and ate together, chatted together as a community in August when we said farewell to Father John. 

Know one more thing I like about the plaza?  The floor.  Blue slate!  Nearly the same as the floor in the Church.  Father Henry Eagan, OSA in his booklet, “The Sacred Art of our Parish Church,” writes very simply: “The plaza is made of blue-stone paving which runs into the Church flooring, wedding the outside and indoor areas.”  To me, walking on the blue slate of our plaza (our “buffer”) into our Church reminds us that we take the thoughts, cares, worries and joys of our life “outside” with us as we enter into our Holy of Holies to worship our God.  Then walking from the slate of the Church floor onto the slate of the plaza, reminds me that the encounter with Jesus begun during the Mass continues as I bring Him with me to the “outside.” 

Kin

Left is my brother-in-law, John.  Middle is my sister, Kathleen.  Right is my brother, Hugh.  John and Kathleen just returned to the US after living in Europe for about 23 years.

Love Thy Neighbor on Staten Island

The following is a letter I wrote for this Sunday's parish bulletin.

Dear brothers and sisters, 

Last Sunday afternoon I was walking down Victory Boulevard toward Jersey Street. As I passed the mosque, a 5-passenger truck was leaving the parking lot and a man got out to close the gate after the truck. He smiled at me and asked, “Do you want a ride?” “I’m not going very far,” I said. “We’ll take you.” So I said thanks and climbed into the truck. I should mention at this point that I was wearing my habit at the time. 

I told him I was heading to the rally being held to protest against the Jersey Street sanitation truck garage in that mostly residential neighborhood. “Yes, that’s where we are going too,” he said, and introduced himself as Ferid Bedrolli, imam of the mosque. I introduced myself and told him that I was planning to stop by the mosque sometime to introduce myself more formally. He said to come any time.Offering me that ride was a small act of kindness, but it meant a lot to me. It was a small act of kindness from someone not originally from my country nor of my religion. 

Project Hospitality and the clergy group of Staten Island have picked this Sunday as “Love Thy Neighbor Sunday.” This is in response to the crimes of violence committed against members of minority communities here on Staten Island over the past few months. At this early stage of my time as pastor of OLGC, I am concentrating on getting to know the parish and you, the parishioners and limiting my activity outside the parish to only a few things. But preaching about love of neighbor is part of my job description, can be done right here, and most importantly of all, is Gospel teaching that we need to be aware of every day. No one in this congregation is guilty of violence against members of minority communities, I’m sure.   But it is important for us as followers of Jesus Christ to see all people as He sees them, and not to let stereotypes and preconceived notions dictate how we think and feel about them and interact with them. 

Let us ask Jesus for the grace to be able to do that.

Peace

Fr. Liam 

Jerusalem and the Altar in Our Church - part two

Here is an article I wrote today for next Sunday's Bulletin

Two weeks ago in part one in this series about our altar, I mentioned that the renowned the Belgian artist, Benoît Gilsoul, who designed the sacred art in our church, chose “Jerusalem” to be the theme of the design of the whole church, but especially that of the altar.   In the first article I wrote about Jacob’s ladder, the twelve gates of the Heavenly Jerusalem, and the dove representing the Holy Spirit who came down upon the apostles in the earthly Jerusalem, from where they spread the Gospel to the entire world.

On the front of the altar there is a very small cross, just left of center, close to the top of the altar.  It is set off from the rest of the concrete surface by gold- and black-colored tiles.  It is a very humble cross.  It actually serves two purposes:

Firstly, it is part of a set.  If you look at the two sides of the altar two other symbols, also set off from the concrete in tile: a heart on the left side and an anchor on the right.  Traditionally, these three symbols have represented the three theological virtues, Faith (the cross), Hope (the anchor) and Love (the heart).  St. Paul mentions the three of these virtues together a number of times, especially in 1 Thessalonians 1:3 and at the end of 1 Corinthians 13 where he writes: “As it is, these remain: faith, hope, and love, the three of them; and the greatest of them is love.”

Secondly, this small, humble cross says something about the altar itself.   One thing I like about our church is that there are very few crosses in it.  That might seem to some a strange thing for a priest to say.  Aside from this small, humble cross, we have the main cross that hangs behind and above the main altar, and the processional cross.  The only other crosses for the most part are the ones that are part of the Stations of the Cross (I’ll probably write about them during Lent).  This is a good thing.  I once lived in a large friary where in some rooms there were six or eight crosses in the design of every lighting fixture in the ceiling, and there were lots of fixtures.  There were little crosses everywhere!  I’m sure the architects thought they were doing a good thing, but by multiplying the crosses and making them the relentlessly repeated theme of the décor, they were in effect watering down the meaning of the cross.

In a very real way, one can say that every altar IS the cross.  Even though it is the words of Jesus at the Last Supper that the priest repeats at every Mass, what happens is that the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross becomes present on our altar.  Jesus does not die again.  Though we are standing around our altar in 2010, in a very real way we are also standing at the foot of the cross on that first Good Friday, outside the walls of Jerusalem, at the side of Mary and the Beloved Disciple.  

Father Henry J. Eagan, OSA ends his article about the altar with these words:
“Lastly, the corners of the Altar, from the floor level to the top, are to suggest a certain feeling. The lower part is rough, involved; the upper part near the tabletop, smooth, and peaceful. The lower part suggests the conflict, the struggle of man in the world; but as he approaches the Eucharist, on the top of the Altar, he finds peace, control and order.”

I would love to know how Gilsoul and his people crafted this altar.  It seems as if they poured the concrete into a cast, probably on site, but we don’t know.  Father Jim and I have been speculating.  Does anyone in the parish remember?  As Father Eagan writes, the upper parts, especially the top surface, are remarkably smooth and do communicate a kind of peaceful, solid, stable and settled feeling.  Please feel free to approach the altar and with due reverence examine it more closely sometime.  And if you have young children, please bring them up and teach them about the symbols explained in these two articles.