On Hell

There was a time when you heard a lot about Hell. Jonathan Edwards, who preached not far from here a couple of centuries ago, famously gave a sermon entitled “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” And in my youth, I can recall parish mission preachers (especially Jesuits) going on and on about the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, in vivid detail.

But today it seems we rarely hear about Hell anymore. Perhaps it’s because we’ve become so accustomed to comfort and security that we find it difficult to imagine eternal consequences.

We speak easily of God’s love—and rightly so—but seldom about his justice.

But there’s an awkward fact that’s hard to ignore. Jesus spoke about Hell than anyone else in the Sacred Scriptures. More than Peter or Paul or John or me or Father Paul…Jesus spoke a lot

about hell. So maybe we ought to do the same.

Now the people of Jesus’ time knew what he was talking about when he warned them about being cast into a “fiery furnace" where there would be "wailing and grinding of teeth.” They

thought about the three men in the fiery furnace of the Book of Daniel or about Gehenna, the dark valley outside Jerusalem, where in ancient days children were sacrificed to idols and where Jeremiah foretold the coming wrath of God.

But the real Hell is not just a place of fire. It’s far worse. The real Hell is a place where all love has been rejected—a place of eternal separation from God. Eternal separation from love, a

place of perpetual darkness and fear, apart from any inkling of being loved or cared for and without the possibility of loving anyone else.

It's such a horrific thought because deep down we know that we were made for love—to be loved and to love. Which is why the horror of being excluded from a God who is love is almost unimaginable.

And yet we can choose to go there.

Did you ever hear the story of the man who hated hearing the children playing outside his kitchen window, so he nailed boards across it. Then he grew tired of the neighbors talking on the sidewalk, so he boarded up the front windows too. The man mowing his lawn annoyed him. The people across the driveway irritated him. One by one, every window in the house disappeared behind wooden boards.

And before you knew it, he was sitting alone in a cold, dark, silent house, cursing the darkness and blaming God for his misery.

And every once in a while he would hear a gentle knock at the door. “It is I" the one who stands at the door and knocks would say “Let me in, and I'll help you open the windows.”

But opening the door meant admitting he needed someone else. So he just shouted back, “Leave me alone.”

And there he sat—cursing God in a bleak darkness of his own making. It is what St. Augustine described as “the soul curved in on itself,” or, in the words of C. S. Lewis, "The doors of hell are locked from the inside.”

No, hell is not simply a place; it is a choice given to us by a God who loves us too much to force us to love him back. A God who has given us the freedom to choose light and love and truth, or to choose darkness and hate and the triumph of absolute selfishness.

In other words, we have the power to choose heaven, and the power to go to hell.

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