No one knows the day or hour

Sent as signs of hope

In the Spring of 1989, I was in the second semester of my first year in the major seminary.  Among the prescribed courses for that semester was an introduction to Moral Theology.  The professor was a Religious from the Congregation of Notre-Dame by the name of Mary-Lou Cranston.  It didn’t take us long to recognize that Mary-Lou was a good teacher.  In fact she started the first class by telling us that in order to do justice to the subject matter at hand, she would first present us the Church’s teaching on a given matter, then provide some personal reflection and finally encourage discussion so that we ourselves could begin to grapple with the issues.

In the Spring of 1989, questions began to be asked and calls were issued in the Canadian media for a public inquiry into cover-ups of allegations of sexual abuse of minors by clergy at the Mount Cashel orphanage in Saint John’s, Newfoundland.  I remember one day that Spring, while we were on our way to class, Mary-Lou posed a question to four or five of us who were accompanying her: Have any of you given any thought to the effect that the revelations coming out of Newfoundland might have on the way that you will exercise your priesthood?  She liked to ask such provocative questions, but she was a very wise woman and the question certainly got us thinking, because at first we may have considered allegations coming from Mount Cashel to be an isolated case, but as the years have gone on, the Church in Canada and in other parts of the world have suffered, and I dare say the way priests, deacons and religious sisters exercise our ministry has been coloured by these events.

I’m not sure that Jesus spoke to his disciples about alleged abuses in particular, but he certainly was encouraging them to recognize that the call to discipleship is never an easy one.  Saint Mark wrote his gospel primarily for the benefit of the Christian community in Rome, so in the words of today’s gospel passage, we see that he wanted to address two realities.  First, the Christian community in Rome was in mortal danger and under constant attack from the Romans.  Second, despite this threat, they were assured that they would always receive the help they needed in order to be faithful to the call to love.

The words of the book of Daniel would have known to the early Christians, so the threat of attack would not have been something new.  After all, Daniel had foretold that there would be a time of anguish, such as has never been seen or known before, but even in the time of Daniel, the promise of God was known: that faithful people shall be delivered.

The revelations brought to light by the inquiry into the Mount Cashel affair began a whole series of revelations across this country: revelations which have been painful to hear and even more painful to live.  There is no justifiable excuse for any type of abuse, much less that of children, yet the wisdom born from the discussion sparked between a few seminarians and our Moral Theology professor have also played an important part in forming the priests we have become.  Even as our discussion was evolving, we recognized that the perpetrators were very few in number, but the reality was and still is that every priest, every deacon, every religious and every lay person still affiliated with the Catholic Church is potentially painted with the same brush by onlookers.

The other reality is equally true: Christians today, as in the early days of the Church are assured that we will always receive the help we need in order to be faithful to the call to love.  Our Church has always preached the importance of forgiveness of sin so even though we may still be living in this time of trial, if we have the eyes to see it, we can indeed discern the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory to help us be signs of hope for our world, faithful witnesses of His enduring love and stewards of His tender forgiveness until the hour arrives for the elect to be gathered and taken to heaven.

For Remembrance Day

The widow’s mite

In villages and towns across this country, and in other places throughout the world, life will come to a standstill for just a moment this weekend.  In that silence, a bugle will play a haunting yet familiar tune, loved ones and companions will be remembered and prayers will be offered.  The words of a now famous poem will also be recited: In Flanders fields the poppies blow, between the crosses, row on row …  Some of us here in this church today may well have known some of the soldiers who fought in the first World War:  those who died in the fields of France, and who are buried there.  Some of us knew others who returned home, wounded yet fortunate enough to be reunited with wives and families they had left behind as they answered their country’s call to enter into battle.

Armistice Day recalls the end of the First World War, but it also affords us the opportunity to stand still, even just for a moment and to give thanks for the many thousands of soldiers who have fought in other conflicts since that time, and for those who stand even today in the trenches of war-torn countries near and far.  Some of these have been fortunate enough to have come home to families and to loved ones, but war leaves its scars, and some of those scars run deep.

Perhaps it is not by coincidence that the first reading we heard today, taken from the first book of Kings, recounts the encounter of the prophet Elijah with a widow, and that the gospel passage for today’s Mass places us with Jesus and his disciples as they witness the silent but poignant actions of yet another widow.  The widows spoken of in the scriptures were quite often women who had little or no voice.  In fact, if you were paying attention, you may have noticed that neither of these women was even given a name in the written accounts of their stories.  In Jesus’ time, women could be traded, like chattel.  They were owned by their husbands, and if their husbands died, they were condemned to a life of begging, basically a little above the social acceptability of a leper.

John McRae’s poem speaks of young lives lost, of battles bravely fought by men who were sons, brothers, perhaps even fathers.  When they left the shores of their homelands, they did so believing that they would soon return, that they would be able to continue their lives where they had left off, but such was not to be.  War is nasty, and far too often, those who are called upon to serve, those who leave their homelands full of promise and hope return mere shells of the people they once were.  Worse, the friends and family they left behind often don’t recognize them when they return.  Here, I refer not so much to the outward appearance, but rather to the inner, for the reality of war can often make lepers out of all those who are touched by its ravages.

Perhaps this year, we should all take the time to stand still, to listen for the haunting song of the bugle, to offer a prayer or two for those we know and those we don’t: the ones who have fought and the ones who are still fighting to gain us the liberty of freedom and peace.  Perhaps this year, we should go a step further.  I wonder if the world would be a different place if we dared to see it through Jesus’ eyes.  I wonder what might change if we were to see the men and women who go off to war, and then return … as Jesus saw the widow in the temple when she deposited her two small copper coins in the treasury.  This was a total act of faith.

Soldiers are trained to give everything they have, even their lives if necessary in order to defend their country and its ideals.  There once was another who sacrificed himself; his sacrifice is commemorated in our very midst.  When soldiers return home, they take a leap of faith, but in order for this faith to be rewarded, we must be willing to attend to their needs, like the widow of Zeraphath attended to Elijah’s needs by providing him with a cake of bread.  She was rewarded for her faith.  Let’s not allow her generosity, and the generosity of our compatriots to be offered in vain.

She was a pioneer

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR LUELLA NORMAN

It started with a phone call last week … well, to be honest, there were probably a number of phone calls made to the parish office before the messages got to where they needed to.  One thing led to another, and before I realized it, I was standing in the hallways of Eastholme in Powassan.  Actually, I arrived at the north elevators at about the same time as Roseanne and some of the other girls were arriving for shift change.

That was my first encounter, and as it turns out I’ve had a few other moments to meet and chat with Luella’s children, some of her grandchildren and the rest of her family.  Today, we bring this lady, one of the pioneers of Saint Peter the Apostle, back home to the church she has attended for most of her 88 years here on earth.  Here, within these walls, and at the other building that once served as the gathering place and place of prayer for the pioneers of this parish, Luella came to pray.  In times of great celebration and in times of trial, she knelt in these pews.

Even as I was being introduced to her children last week, they were already telling me that she had taught them all how to pray the rosary, and I could only imagine that this prayer of popular piety was only one of the ways in which she modeled her faith for the benefit of so many.  You see, for people of faith, it is not the achievements of this life that will be remembered, so much as it is the kindnesses we have shown, the love we have shared and the dedication we have demonstrated which will remain in the memories of those who come after us.  We do all this, following the example of Jesus himself who came among us to show us the depth of the Father’s love.

God’s love for each of us knows no bounds.  In fact, to demonstrate it to us, Jesus gave his very life, like a grain of wheat that falls in the ground and dies so that it can yield a rich harvest.  I only met this woman a few days ago, but you have had the privilege to witness the ways in which she gave of herself, allowing herself to die to self so that the rich harvest of her love could be known.  This love was shown equally to the many friends who worked closely with her on so many CWL projects and in so many other ways within this vibrant community of faith.  It is thanks to her efforts and to those of her contemporaries that we today enjoy the many gifts that continue to be identified and nurtured within this parish.

At the centre of her life was the discipline of prayer.  In the intimacy of that conversation with God, she celebrated and gave thanks on the day of her wedding, and during the many years she was blessed to share with her husband Harry, and certainly she celebrated and gave thanks for each of her children.  As time went on, she also rejoiced as each of her grandchildren and great grandchildren came along.  How often was she present to celebrate with you the days of great and joyful happiness: baptisms, weddings, birthdays and anniversaries?

She was also present to so many others at moments when they needed consolation and hope: when some were faced with medical challenges, and when others needed to be reminded of the consolation of faith especially as we mourn the loss of friends and loved ones.  Faith is tested at such moments, but faith when tested always grows stronger if we truly believe that death is but a doorway into eternity.  All of us will one day knock at this door, and when it is opened, our faith teaches us that we will be welcomed into the fullness of life.  In order to convince us of this truth, Jesus himself suffered, died and rose again.  Remember that last part: he rose again!  Because of that, it will be the same for Luella, and it will be the same for all of us who have died in Jesus.  God will bring us with him to heaven, and we will be with him forever.  As people of faith, let us give thanks this day for the gifts and graces that we have known in the life of Luella Norman, and let us pray for the grace to continue living the promise of resurrection for the benefit of those we are yet to meet.

He never gave up

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR FRANCESCO VALENTE

Cari amici:

Siamo venuti oggi in questa chiesa per pregare insieme.  Nella prezenza della famiglia di nostro caro Francesco pregiamo al Signore ch’è la fonte della vita.  On the day of his baptism, Francesco was presented at the font, where the waters of life washed him clean, and made him a beloved child of God.  Throughout his life, God gave him many graces, reminders of the special gift that had been entrusted to him on that day of his introduction to the Church.

Having come to this country from the beautiful land of Cosenza, Francesco arrived here in this city, where he made a life for himself and for his family.  Always practical, and ever optimistic, he celebrated good times with friends and family, and he faced challenges head on, always believing that there was a solution to be found.  No matter how many years we are granted, it always seems that the virtuous persons (the ones we love and by whom we are loved) are taken from this world before their time.  The truth of the matter is that although we would have loved to keep him here for many more years, to be the source of wisdom and advice for us, and although his spirit was willing, his body was increasingly challenged by the ravages of disease.

In questi momenti habiamo noi una tristeza perche il nostro papa, il nostro amico non è più al nostro lato, ma dobbiamo ricordare che siamo tutti bambini di Dio.  Del momento di nostro battesimo, habiammo ricevuto uno spirito da figli adottivi per mezzo del quale gridiamo: ‘Abba Padre’.  We cry out with these words every day of our lives, as we welcome strangers to our tables, as we see the joy of children born, as we celebrate weddings and anniversaries, as we recognize the success that comes with hard work and dedication.

Today, we gather in prayer with Francesco’s family, the pride of his heart because we have all received this spirit of adoption.  It is true that having watched him over the past few years, those who were closest to him may have found it difficult to see him increasingly held captive by the ravages of failing health, but he himself would never let these limitations hold him down.  In truth, the apostle Paul reminds us that what we suffer in this life can never be compared to the glory, as yet unrevealed, which is waiting for us.  Now that Francesco has been released from the bonds of mortality, we believe that he is able to understand and appreciate the great glory of God in all its fullness.

And what then does this promise hold for those of us who are left, who must now forge onward without the physical presence of our friend?  Our very presence here today is a sign of our faith, of the fact that we have heard the words of Jesus spoken to us in prayer, and that we are at least coming to believe in the One who sent him.  The gospel we read this morning tells us that because of this, we too have the promise of eternal life.  One day, we too will see this promise fulfilled.  When our earthly journey is complete, we too will see God face to face, when we will see Francesco again.  Until that day, we pray, we trust, and we strive every day to live lives that are practical, just and fair.  In all our dealings, let us always remember that there will be a tomorrow, and that tomorrow will be the source of our hope.

Looking through different eyes

The month of November begins with two very significant Feasts.  In fact, in some parts of the world, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day (celebrated tomorrow) are still holidays (or Holy Days).  These two days set the stage as it were for us to enter into this month especially dedicated to remembering those of our loved ones who have preceded us into heaven, and who await our arrival on the day when each of us will eventually complete our earthly journeys.

During the celebration of Mass today, I asked the gathered congregation to consider that the readings of today's liturgy invite us to consider that while we are gathered in one place (a church in this case) to pray, the Saints (those we know and those we have forgotten): the souls who have completed their earthly journeys and who we believe are now in heaven, stand watching us.

As John's vision described in the Book of Revelation describes in today's first reading, they stand before the throne and before the Lamb, wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands.  From their place in heaven, these souls sing their song of praise and call to us, assuring us of the place that is assured for us in our true Home.

As a reassurance of this reality, John's words written in the second reading tell us we are God's children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.  In fact, we will see the cloud of witnesses - the Saints - as they are too, singing praises to the one who is seated on the throne.

While we wait for this day, we dare to call upon the Saints, asking them to pray for us, and we are encouraged as we gaze in faith upon the vision of this immense choir as they sing praises.  As they look upon us and recognize our poverty of spirit, as they recognize the pain of those who mourn, as they acknowledge the trials of the meek, the hungry and the thirsty, we too gaze back at them and see these same realities in them, but what is seen by earthly eyes as weakness is transformed in the heavenly places to utter blessing. 

Saints await us. Saints encourage us.  Saints pray for us.

How they see it

I visited some students this morning, and asked them if they could explain to me the name of the great feast that we celebrate today.

Perhaps I should clarify that I had arrived in the school before the morning announcements and know for a fact that included with the other morning exercises was an announcement about All Saints' Day.

Apparently the students in the classroom where the question was posed were otherwise occupied during announcements, for they were a bit confused by my question.  In fact, their best guess was that today was the feast of Halloween.  I tried my best to explain to them that today was actually the Feast of All Saints.  In fact, I even added another layer:

Since today is the Feast of All Saints, otherwise known as All Hallows, that made yesterday All Hallows Eve.  They didn't quite catch on until I went a bit further and asked them if they understood the meaning of the word CONTRACTION.  As an example, I said that the phraise 'do not' could be contracted to 'don't'.  It seemed that a lightbulb went on.  They then understood that contractions (in this sense of the word) means making words shorter.  As a result, All Hallows Eve can be contracted to Hallowe'en.

Was this catechesis?