Serra Club North - 75th Anniversary

Seventy five years ago, when Bishop Wright introduced the Serra Club to this fledgling Diocese, there were roughly 320,000 Catholics and 275 priests serving in our parishes. Today our diocese is 18% smaller, but with 50% fewer priests. That means that the diocesan priest ordained in 1950 was responsible for a little over a thousand people, while today’s priest is called to serve about 1,500.

Which may discourage some. As it may discourage many to learn that the Diocese of Worcester, thanks to the extraordinary leadership and pastoral success of Bishop McManus, is doing better than just about every other diocese in New England. We are thriving, especially when compared with two New England Dioceses with one priest per 2,000 people and a third with one priest for 3,000 catholics, and the average priest covering over 260 square miles. In Worcester it’s just nine square miles.

So congratulations. And while much of the credit goes to Bishop McManus, who in a talk to his brother Bishops four years ago summed it up like this: “We need to be aggressive and invite more young men to consider a vocation… We can’t sit and be quiet and expect young men to come…Every priest should see himself as a vocation director and every priest should seek to inspire young men to give their lives to God.”

But alongside Bishop McManus, you and those who came before you are seeking to fulfill the vision which Pope Leo articulated in his recent message for “Good Shepherd Sunday,” the 63rd World Day of Prayer for Vocations which we will celebrate in just three days.

In it, the Holy Father invites us to reflect with him on the beauty of being loved by the Good Shepherd, who is good precisely because he is “ready to give his life for his sheep, thus revealing God’s love.”

It is only in fostering a life-long relationship with Christ, the Good Shepherd, that any of us can discern our vocation, our true calling from God. “He is the Shepherd who draws us to himself, whose gaze reveals that life is truly beautiful when one follows him.”

The fostering of vocations, then, both in ourselves and in young people who may be called to the priesthood or religious life, is fostered only by pausing, listening and praying, by participating in his life and thereby letting him into the inner depths of our lives, as well. For it is only when we meet God in the innermost recesses of our soul that we can understand the overwhelming beauty which is a life lived in God, from the inside out.

And to every person who seeks such a life, here is the advice which the Holy Father offers:

Such a relationship is based on prayer and silence, and when cultivated opens us to receive and actively respond to the gift of vocation. It is never an imposition or a one-size-fits-all model to which one merely conforms; instead, it is an adventure of love and happiness. Thus, on the basis of caring for the interior life, we must urgently recommence our vocational ministry and renew our commitment to evangelization.

Why do we want young people to realize their vocation and why do Serrans support and sustain them in this journey?  Is it so we can increase the numbers and pat ourselves on the back?  No. It is because we want young people and all people whom we meet to be happy, and true happiness, true peace is only found in meeting Christ Jesus and giving your heart and soul and life to God.

The great good news of this night is that folks like you have been doing this good work for 75 years, and by their prayers, their example and their support have fostered countless vocations. For such folks, there is a special place in heaven.

My first contact with Serra was when I was a young seminarian (with half the weight and twice the hair I have today) studying at te North American College in Rome. And I remember the date It was February 8, 1978.

I received two letters on that date, each written from beneath four feet of snow…it was the great Blizzard of 1978. There was no snow in Rome, but always a great joy when opening a letter from home.

The first letter, which I still have, was written by an old priest who had been trapped in the house for two days and wanted me to know he was usually the isolation to pray for me and my vocation. He told old stories when he had been in the same seminary years ago and urged me to persevere and know of his prayers for me. That old priest was named Flanagan, the High Priest who would ordain me two years later and for whom I still pray most days in gratitude to God.

The second letter was from a Serran who has long since gone home to God. She told me that she too had been trapped inside for a couple days and was hoping her medication and food would hold out until the snow plows cleared everything up. But she wanted me to know that she was using these days of winter hermitage to pray 22 rosaries for the 22 seminarians, wherever they might be.

I got tears in my eyes, reading both those letters. For the old priest and the old lady Serran wanted nothing more than for me to love and be loved by Jesus and thus know the peace the world cannot give. They wanted me to know and love my vocation and to live it with fervor and joy. 

And I suspect that old lady looked a lot like you, and the 75 years of Serrans who have gone before you, who have been whispering into the ears of seminarians day and night, repeating the words which Jesus first whispered to you:

"No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draw him, and I will raise him on the last day. Everyone who listens to my Father and learns from him comes to me, the bread that comes down from heaven. And whoever eats this bread will live forever; for the bread that I will give is my Flesh for the life of the world."

Through the intercession of Saint Junipero Serra, you have been telling the world what the Holy Father said to beautifully in preparing us for Good Shepherd Sunday, his words which I pray will guide us for the next seventy years of Sundays in doing this good work.

“Say to the young people, listen to his voice! Listen to the voice of the Lord who invites you to a full and fruitful life, calling you to put your talents to use and to unite your limitations and weaknesses with the glorious cross of Christ. Make time, then, for Eucharistic adoration; meditate faithfully on the word of God, so that you may put it into practice each day; and participate actively and fully in the sacramental and ecclesial life of the Church. In this way, you will come to know the Lord. Through the intimacy of his friendship, you will discover how to give of yourselves, whether through marriage, the priesthood, the permanent diaconate, or consecrated life. Every vocation is an immeasurable gift for the Church and for those who receive it with joy. To know the Lord means above all learning to entrust oneself to him and to his providence, which is abundant in every vocation.”

This is your good work, my brothers and sisters, and may the Lord bless you abundantly for your goodness.

On Prayer: The Act of Contrition

 

An Easter Homily

When Mary got to the tomb on that first Easter morning, it was still dark. Still dark.

Dark as the Ukrainian night when there’s no power after the drones have done their worst.

Dark as the hospital room at 3 a.m., when the machines are the only ones making a sound.

Dark as the conscience of the one who knows what he has done—and can’t undo it.

Dark as the prison cell where a man replays his worst moment again and again.

Dark as the world on that first Good Friday, when last she saw his lifeless body and death seems to have had the final word.

She got there while it was still dark.

But wait, that was strange. Through the shadows she could see that the stone has been moved from the tomb.

And when she got back with Peter and the other disciple, she noticed something else. Not only had the Lord been taken from the tomb, but the cloths in which his body had been buried were left behind, and the cloth that had covered his head was rolled up in the corner all by itself.

Strange…for the only way that could have happened is if the Lord had come back to life, removing the covering from his head, and throwing it to the side, after which he removed the rest of the wrappings.

She must have thought about what Jesus said when he raised Lazarus from the dead the week before…untie him, undo the burial cloths so he can go free.

And just as she saw this, the sun began to rise, as an angel’s voice shattered the dark silence of every corner of the world, with the awesome glory of the holy light.

And as he rises, we need never be afraid of the dark, ever again. For he has destroyed all darkness and death, and everyone you have ever loved, every one whom you have ever buried with your tears, will rise with him on the last day.

What’s more, he has destroyed our sin, rising with healing in his wings, as he says to each one here: Be not afraid, follow me and I will give you rest, I will shepherd you from the dark valley of death to the bright glory of everlasting glory.

That’s what “Happy Easter” means. It means that this is the most blessed of all days, when, the Morning Star that burns undimmed redeems us all, and Angels sing the Triumph of our Mighty King!

Holy Thursday Homily

 Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper

Homily

Jesus is here. In our midst. He told us as much when he said that “where two or three are gathered in my name, there are I am in their midst.” That is why, in just a few minutes, Father Shaughnessy and I will remove our chasubles and wash your feet, because the same Jesus told us that whatever you do to your brothers, you do to me.

Jesus is here. He is present in the priests who wash your feet, who strive to serve you in the image of Christ every day of the year. And Jesus is here in the Word which taught us these sacred realities and strengthens us in our faith.

But most of all Jesus is here, in the Holy Communion which we will receive, as we obey his command to eat his Body and drink his Blood. He is here in the true bread which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world, and he comes to live in us that we might live in him.

For this Holy Communion, this Holy and Living Sacrifice, transcends all time and space, and in the moment we come to this Altar to receive him we stand at the foot of the Cross with Blessed Mary and Saint John and partake of Christ’s glory, made one with all who are “called to the Supper of the Lamb.”

For in this Holy Eucharist we glimpse heaven, as the light of God’s glory pierces the clouds of our history and enlightens our way. 

Just look around you. Look closely, for you are surrounded by an unseen world of Angels and Saints, rejoicing and sharing in our Communion with Jesus. 

Look around you, for they are all here: Grandmothers who have gone before us in faith, the priests who built this holy house, and the our ancestors who intercede for us night and day before the throne of God. They are here, and this Church is crowded to overflowing tonight with all our invisible friends.

For they know how blessed we are to be called to the Supper of the Lamb!

On Prayer: The Confiteor

On Prayer: The Sign of the Cross

 

David and the Man Born Blind

God chooses in the strangest ways.

Jesse had seven sons, and one of them was to become the King of Israel. So, when he hears that the Prophet Samuel is coming to Bethlehem, he lines them all up.

He’s sure that Samuel will choose Elian, for his is the oldest, the tallest and the best looking. He’d make a fine kind. 

Not so fast, God whispers in Samuel’s ear. You might be impressed with him, but I have looked in his heart and he’s not the one.

So Samuel brings the second oldest, Abinadad. His name means nobility. And Shimeah, whose name means the famous one. And Nethaneel, who they called “a gift from God.” And Radii, the conqueror and Ozem, whose name means “strength.”

But God chose none of them, and Samuel turns to Jesse and asks “Are these all the sons you have?"

Well, Jesse says, there’s the youngest and he is our tending sheep. And you guessed it. God chose him to be King of Israel. The runt of the litter.

——

In the same way, today’s very long Gospel begins with everyone believing that the man born blind is the biggest sinner in Jerusalem. For why else would God make someone blind, except because he was a sinner? He is an unworthy, unclean beggar in their sight. But of all the people in Jerusalem: the Pharisees, the scholars of the law, his parents, the Jews… Jesus chose him.

And he’s a not particularly bright or articulate blind man either. I love his testimony, the second time they call him to the stand and demand to know if Jesus is a sinner. “Did you hear him?” they ask. He says simply: 

“I don’t know if he is a sinner. The only thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see.” ‘And if God does not listen to sinners, and he made me see, how can he be a sinner?’

At which they become enraged:

"You were born totally in sin, and are you trying to teach us?"

And then they throw him out.

And then, our not too bright, but honest once-blind-man sees Jesus again, who comes to the point of the story:

”Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He asks him.

"Who is he, sir,” he answers, “that I may believe in him?”

And Jesus says the most beautiful words of the Gospel. He says four words to the once blind man: "You have seen him.”

And he says: “I do believe.”

For, in the end, we don’t need all kinds of fancy words. We don’t have to be the ones with the best reputations or the coolest names. We don’t have to be the best looking or the tallest or the strongest.

We just have to be chosen. As you have been. In all your littleness and imperfection, to know the Son of Man and to worship him.