Upon this rock...

The Catholic world is abuzz these days with the horrible news from the Pennsylvania Grand Jury Report and the allegations about Cardinal Theodore McCarrick. I have read several articles from Catholic news sources regarding these scandals and find myself disheartened along with so many more of the laity.

I am blessed to have several friends who are priests, and to know that they are good men, who are as disturbed and disgusted as I am about what they are learning about some leaders in our church. 

I came into the church as an adult, and I believe it to be the true church that Jesus founded before he ascended into heaven. I am not afraid to admit that, because I know that the church itself is not at fault. I believe that the devil believes the only way to destroy us is from the inside. Without priests, we are unable to participate in the Eucharist, which is the source and summit of our faith. So to destroy the priesthood, will do the trick, won’t it? 

I believe the answer is a resounding “NO!” As a matter of fact, I know that is the answer. I know that for every bad priest, there are 100 good ones. I know that my little church was full at mass this morning, with faithful believers who came to participate in the Eucharist. 

Every morning when I get up, I remember what Jesus said: “And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.’

No matter what comes our way, I believe what he said, and that the church will stand. 

Baptized with vinegar

This article was originally published at Catholic365.com

http://www.catholic365.com/article/1666/baptized-with-vinegar.html

A while back I heard Mark Hart, the Bible Geek on the radio and one of the things he said made me laugh, but it stuck with me. He was talking about Christian joy (or the lack thereof) and he said, “Some people look like they were baptized with vinegar.”

At first, I thought that was hysterically funny, but after I thought about it, I realized he was right. I play piano and organ at Mass every Sunday, and from my vantage point, I can see the whole congregation. It’s amazing how many people, even the priest sometimes, really have a sour look on their faces from time to time. It made me wonder a couple of things - Why is that the case? And, do I look that way to others?

Why would we look sour at Mass, of all places, when we are about to embark on the most remarkable journey mankind has ever known? Maybe because we are human, and we can’t fathom the depth of what is about to happen? Do we take it for granted? St. John Vianney explained that even the priest may not be able to appreciate his own part in this miracle: "O, how great is the priest! ... If he realized what he is, he would die," St. John Vianney said.

Now, I understand that everybody has a bad day now and then. I have heard all the arguments about how “Mass is boring” from adults and kids alike. I always want to remind them that Mass is not supposed to be entertainment. It is what we are called to do by the Lord Himself. I think He told us to do it in His memory until He comes back and we don’t have to any more. Where is our joy then?

Hart’s comment certainly gave me pause to examine myself. We have only one Sunday Mass at our little parish and it is at 8 a.m. It is a sacrifice sometimes to get up on Sunday, like a regular workday in order to be there in time to play at Mass. But I have tried to give that to Jesus. Being joyful that time of morning is another thing. I pray I can learn to be more joyful, and that the light of Christ can shine through me.

I figure if I can be joyful at that 8 a.m. Mass every Sunday, it will spill over into my everyday life. "Christian joy is a gift of God flowing from a good conscience,” St. Philip Neri said. I think we all need to embrace that. No more vinegar!

When you say nothing at all...

It's been a while since I posted, and because of that I am really bummed out. I have these spells when I truly have nothing to say. Really. I think there are lots of things that need to be said, but for the life of me, I just can't think of anything. Sometimes I wonder if I just use up all my words with my job.

Last time I posted, we had been to South Carolina on my Spring Break and it was Lent.

We got back and the next thing I knew it was Holy Week and we were celebrating our Lord's Resurrection with our new pope. It was a beautiful week with three neophytes coming into the church.

But something strange happened that week, too.  One of our priests, Fr. Duy Nguyen, SCJ, was the celebrant at our parish for the week. (We are one of five churches served by the Priests of the Sacred Heart, U.S. (SCJs)  in North Mississippi.) This June, Fr. Duy will celebrate the second anniversary of his ordination. He is a wonderful young man, and this was his second Holy Week with us. We had a beautiful mass on Holy Thursday.

I was off on Good Friday, and while I was waiting for Richard to come home, I stopped by WalMart for a bit of shopping. I was walking by the greeting cards when I had an overwhelming feeling come over me that I should buy an Easter card for Fr. Duy. ( Now mind you, I have NEVER bought a Christmas or Easter card, or any other kind of card for a priest before.) I just knew at that moment it was something I had to do. So I bought him a card and decided to leave it in the sacristy for him to find. Instead of Happy Easter, I thanked him for his vocation, told him we were praying for him and that he would always be loved by my family.

I put the card in the sacristy after Good Friday service, while everyone else was in adoration. I did not think anything more of it. I wasn't even sure he got it. We had choir practice on Saturday morning and I peeked into the sacristy and sure enough it was gone.

Saturday evening came and it was time for Vigil. What a beautiful mass it was. It's my favorite time- the darkness and the light... The stripped down altar is redecorated in beautiful white, and you know that Christ has risen indeed.

After mass, I did not see Fr. Duy, but a friend told me he had just told them he had been reassigned to  the SCJ church in Houston, and tomorrow would be his last mass at our church. I was shocked about the move, but more shocked by what I had done. I had not understood my desire to send him that card at the time, but at that minute I realized why it had to be done.

Then I started freaking out thinking he might wonder how I knew he was leaving and trying to figure out how I could have known. I texted him right away to explain what happened, and it was so late, I did not hear back from him.

The next morning, which was Easter morning, I finally got a chance to talk with Father. He was a bit surprised by the card, but took it all in stride. He did say it was exactly what he needed to hear at exactly the right time. I think it was hard for him to have to say goodbye to our parish. It was really hard for all of us, I know.

I am still puzzled by the incident with the card. I would like to think that I was "listening" to God, but I'm not anywhere near that holy- that he would speak to me. I hope I will be one day. I will just trust that I was in the right place at the right time so that he could use me to let a young priest who was headed on a new journey know that there are people in his corner.

It made me think of a line in that Keith Whitley song, "You say it best when you say nothing at all."

Fr. Duy and me after Easter Sunday Mass. 

Fr. Duy always teased me about taking pictures of everything.
He hammed it up for my camera at Easter breakfast.