Eric Lee: A Man of Faith

I preached this morning at the funeral of Eric Lee, the son of an old friend and the brother of Pamela Ho, who joined the board of Catholic Christian Outreach just before I left.

As you can tell from the homily, it was a great privilege. His mother told me “Eric was born with a good heart.” This seems to be no less than the truth.

A visitor to London knew that the magnificent St. Paul’s Cathedral was the work of Sir Christopher Wren, and that its renowned architect was buried there. So he decided to visit the great man’s tomb.

He went from one grand marble monument to another without success. Nor could he find a side chapel with any mention of Wren.

Just as he was about to give up, the man spotted a Latin inscription on the floor.

He saw Christopher Wren’s name followed by these words: Lector, si monumentum requiris circumspice.

“Reader, if you seek his monument, look around.”

Friends, if you seek a monument to the life of Eric Lee, look around you. Look around this church and see a beloved wife, a loving mother, four dear sisters, and numerous family members—all of them grieving, but none of them bereft of hope.

Look around the church and see business associates who remember a man of integrity and charm; and fellow parishioners with stories of his generosity and commitment to the Church.

Look around you and see people who aren’t that interested in what I might have to say this morning—because Eric’s remarkable attitude to illness has already given them the hope they need to deal with the sadness of his premature death.

Eric almost needs no eulogy beyond his own words “Another bonus day!”

But perhaps it can be fruitful to meditate on Eric’s rallying cry. What were the sources of such a positive attitude?

Clearly, it began with his loving family—the family is the first foundation of character and courage, and Eric grew up in the sort of family that promoted both.

Yet it took more than even a brave character to confront his dire prognosis with such confidence—it took faith. And again, his family was the starting point. I have known his wonderful mother for nearly thirty years, so I can attest to her persevering faith.

But the childhood seeds of faith must be watered by adult commitment. Eric believed that the Word of God is the truest guide for the good life, and he lived accordingly. He was led in right paths by the Good Shepherd, whom he followed with confidence.

When he found himself in the darkest valley, he did not fear evil, because he knew that the Lord walked at his side and would not abandon him; certainly he bore a heavy burden in his final months, but it was lightened by the promise of rest that Jesus makes to all who willingly accept the yoke of suffering.

In other words, when Eric Lee’s faith was put to the test, it provided real answers to the most profound and painful questions of any human heart. Can there be good in suffering? Can there be life after death?

At this funeral Mass, we are now challenged by his example. A friend who knew Eric said “With a hundred Erics, you could change the world!”  Which of us, in this congregation of hundreds, will rise to that challenge? 

We are challenged, too, by his faith. If we are people of faith, we must ask ourselves whether we have lived our faith with enough conviction to see us through the dark valley.

If we have no faith, this may be an occasion to ask whether Eric’s life and death inspires us to become seekers again, so that we too might find comfort in the face of life’s greatest mystery, namely “is there a life to come?”

But whether we are people of great faith or none, this morning is a time to give thanks for a life well-lived and, dare we say, well-ended.

This is a moment to rejoice that Eric found rest for his soul, that he was able to persevere to the end. However strong or weak our own belief, we can join Eric in crying out in the words of today’s first reading “We looked to [God], and he saved us!”

And finally, this time of prayer together is an occasion to pray for those who must now accept the pain of Eric’s death. The readings today are certainly intended to bring us the hope of eternal life for Eric, but they also contain God’s promises to those who mourn him.

In his own time, God will wipe away the tears of Melanie and all Eric’s loved ones, and they too will find rest for their souls.

For each of us, every day is a “bonus day.” We are all invited to live the present moment, whether of joy or pain, in the hope of the eternal day when the trumpet will sound and the dead will rise.

And so, “with such thoughts as these” as St. Paul said, let us comfort one another.

Speaking the Truth in Love (23 A)

Let me tell a tale of two parents and a tale of two priests.

Sally & Fred’s daughter got married outside the Church. Hurt and shocked by this, her parents cut her off. She’s no longer invited to family gatherings, not even Christmas dinner.

Paula & Jack’s 16 year old son won't go to Mass. They’re easygoing folks, so they just throw up their hands and say “well, what can we do, he’s got to make up his own mind.”

Father Ferocious is the pastor of St. Peter in Chains. He tells a man in confession that he's a disgrace to his family and the Church.

His seminary classmate, Father Likeable, is known as the no-questions-asked priest; he'll marry anybody and baptize the third child of an unmarried couple without so much as a quiet word in the rectory parlour.

What do all these cases have in common?  They're all wrong!

In different ways, of course, but both these parents and both these priests evade their responsibilities to others.

The harsh parents and the too-tough priest fail in their duty to love.  St. Paul says, in today’s second reading, that love is the fulfilling of the law. The Christian is never freed from that duty, yet Father Ferocious and Sally and Fred have been unloving in dealing with the failures of those in their care.

They were right, Paul says, to take the commandments seriously; but wrong not to take love more seriously still.

But the softies, Father Likeable and Paula & Jack, weren't on target either.  They read St. Paul but they missed Ezekiel, called by his prophetic office to warn sinners from their ways.  Even more important, they missed today's Gospel, which shows how to do that according to Christ's new law of love.

I suspect that their mistake is the more common one today.  Our society extols pluralism and tolerance as its highest values, which makes it easy to turn away from our responsibilities to others.

We don't want to upset anyone.

To a point, that's understandable.  Who likes a busybody?  Who wants to listen to meddlesome neighbour?  

But a new concept of rights takes this to a whole new level. Autonomy has become a prized value. We hear that people have the right “to do their own thing.” Everyone has “the right to choose.”

To a certain point, that's true.  But Jesus tells us in today's Gospel that it's not true in the Church.  The Church thrives on unity; the Church depends on unity.  When a brother or sister sins in a public way, it weakens the community.  Everything possible must be tried to bring them back into communion with the Church, for the Church's prayer depends for its effectiveness on its unity in Christ.

What's more, we have specific responsibilities in the Church, just as Ezekiel had toward the house of Israel.

Bishops and priests have responsibilities towards the whole People of God, husbands and wives towards each other, parents towards their children, teachers towards their students.  We who have these offices or relationships have a duty to promote and protect the salvation of those entrusted to us; to permit someone to perish in sin because we don’t want to make waves is, very simply, a betrayal for which God will call us to account.

The media jumped for joy when Pope Francis said to a reporter “Who am I to judge?” But if you listen to him for more than a sound bite, you find out that he rarely misses an opportunity to say tough things, even very tough things.

And it's not just popes, priests, parents and prophets who have this responsibility.  Every member of the Church shares in a certain duty towards every other member of the Church.  The Gospel places a primary obligation on the first-hand witness of the sin: Jesus says "If your brother or sister sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone."

Clearly, these words are meant for everyone.  It is a very specific guide to correction and reconciliation in the Church.  But how often is it followed?

No more than a half-dozen times in my years of priesthood has someone come to see me privately and kindly taken issue with something I have done or said; yet I have been at Christ the Redeemer for seven years and I would bet my bankbook that you've heard something I have done or said discussed at least that many times!

If today's Gospel were descriptive rather than prescriptive, Jesus would have started with "If your brother or sister sins against you, point out the fault to anyone who will listen!"

I can't stress enough that the "system" Jesus proposes is not an antiquated one.  Don't think of it as something obsolete, like the public confession of sins in the early Church.  I believe it works; speaking the truth in charity fulfills the law of love in concrete circumstances. By and large, such respectful honesty hasn't been tried and found wanting; it's been found difficult and not tried.

But what if the truth that must be spoken is too much for someone to hear? It sure can’t be a good idea to take a friend out for coffee and say “O wicked one, you shall surely die”!

It’s a safe bet that no-one would be so imprudent as to tell our wayward friends “they shall die in their iniquity.” So what is our responsibility towards those who are thoroughly off the rails?

In such cases, we are called to offer them a way out of the mess they’re in. We don’t give them a list of their failures, we offer them a way to success. As God’s watchmen, we shine a light on their path so that they might stop stumbling.

That light, of course, is the good news of Jesus Christ.

There are many ways of introducing people to the person and message of Jesus, beginning with our good example as Christians. But nothing is simpler and less threatening—to us or to others—than an invitation to the Alpha Course.

Alpha presents Christianity as a way of life that is attractive and life-giving. It uses the approach Pope Francis uses and recommends—beginning by telling folks what they’re doing wrong, but by offering them more than they’re now getting out of life.

Alpha is right in line with the title of the Holy Father’s letter “The Joy of the Gospel.”

He writes “The joy of the gospel fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus. Those who accept his offer of salvation are set free from sin, sorrow, inner emptiness and loneliness."

Can we keep this joy a secret when something as simple as an invitation to dessert and a video might bring it to a friend, an acquaintance or a family member?

The Alpha Course starts up on Tuesday, September 30. It’s time now to think about those you have the opportunity—and maybe the responsibility—to invite.

And of course it’s time to pray. The last verse of today's Gospel exhorts us to common prayer.  Let us take that very seriously too, praying for unity and harmony in the Church, that it might bear better witness to our Saviour even amidst the frailties of her members.

My Feast Day

My family didn't celebrate our patron saints when we were growing up (just as well, since they "relocated" St. Gregory some time in the sixties), but I was introduced to the custom of celebrating names days at my seminary in Rome. Although I missed out, since the term did not begin by September 3, my feast day, it was normal to put a greeting under the door of a fellow student on the day we celebrated his patron saint.

What's more, my Italian friends and their families marked their "onomastico" with as much festivity as we would celebrate a birthday.

I think that Catholic customs like this are very important and I do my best promote them in the parish. So when I realized that the first Mass of the new school year fell on the memorial of Pope St. Gregory the Great I talked to the students about it, and suggested they find out when their patron's feast occurs so they can encourage their families to mark the day in some way.

Well, I discovered that I may have been preaching to the converted!  Here is the gift that the staff and students gave me at the end of Mass:

To add to my delight, the bottle was no gimmick--turns out it's from an award winning winery in California, owned by an Italian family.  And sure enough--the patriarch was Gregorio!

Transformed not Conformed! (22A)

A parishioner came to me recently with a sincere request.

“I want to know more about my faith. And I want to help my wife and children live a holy life. What do we need to do?”

I gave him some practical answers. Go to confession regularly was the first one. Come to the Alpha course with your wife was the second. And bring your kids to Lifeteen and youth ministry nights.

Nothing fancy there. I didn’t tell him to fast and pray and start coming to Mass every day. Just some very do-able things to help build a stronger Christian family.

Except they weren’t. They weren’t doable, at least at first glance. The Alpha course conflicts with one child’s swim practice. Sunday nights they can’t get back from Whistler on time. And the Great Adventure bible study conflicts with a work commitment.

Do you think I am feeling critical when I tell you this? Far from it—I understand perfectly. Going to the gym conflicts with my prayer time. Getting to bed messes up my spiritual reading. And emails and texts mess up everything.

Friends, we are all in this together. Most of us are, to some extent, conformed to the world, a phrase most of us missed in the second reading today.

Conformed to the world—what exactly does this mean? Certainly it’s something negative, because St. Paul says “Do not be conformed to the world.”

Now we aren’t mean to become oddballs who annoy others and violate legitimate social standards—St. Paul says later in this same chapter that Christians should “live peaceably with all.” (v. 18)

But there are social standards that we must not follow; there are patterns of behavior that we must reject.

Obviously, some of these are downright sinful. We don’t really need a sermon about them. If your group of friends drinks to excess every Friday night, you will need to make a different choice, whatever the cost.

But others are subtle. We are conformed to this world when we focus always on what we can see. Everything that really matters to us relates to “now” with little or no attention to the life to come.

The word St. Paul uses for this “world” can also be translated as this “age.” One fine scholar puts it bluntly: “If all our calculations, plans, and ambitions are determined by what falls within life here, then we are children of this age.”*

How can we escape conformity to the spirit of this age? How can place faith and its values in the center of our thoughts and actions?

St. Paul tells us in the same sentence: “Be transformed by the renewing of your minds.” Don’t be conformed by the world, be transformed by God.

Although conformity shows itself chiefly in what we say and do, it begins with what we think. We need to oppose it by “a deep-seated and permanent change” that comes from the renewal of our minds. A Christian with a mind that has been transformed and made new does not model his or her conduct on worldly ways.

So how do we know whether we are being conformed or transformed? One of the best ways is to ask how seriously we take the Scripture.

Once when I quoted St. Paul to my Dad, he said “Yes, but he wrote that after he fell off his horse.”

When Jesus says something startling, do we take him at his word or water his words down until they don’t make much difference?

When we read “love your enemies and pray for those who hate you,” do we hear a platitude or a true command which we want to obey?

In today’s Gospel, Peter says exactly what I would have said to Jesus. So you could say that I talk like a saint. Except that both Peter and I are talking like worldly men, not disciples.

Peter’s motives are good ones—he loves the Lord deeply and is ready to save him from the cross. My motives are good ones, too: I want to defend the Church and save it from persecution and slander. And to answer my email.

And the sincere parishioner’s motives for resisting disruption to his family schedule are also good—he wants his children to enjoy life, learn skills, and play sports.

Still, the fact is that we are conforming to the world whenever we think with the world and with the Lord.

Jesus says “pick up your cross.” The world says “let it go.”

Jesus says “deny yourself.” The world says “get all you can.”

There really isn’t much room for compromise here. “There is not a moment of life that the will of God does not command, no circumstance that it does not fill with meaning” if we respond to the fullness of the Word of God, as John Murray has said.

I’m glad the Gospel shows that even St. Peter, walking and talking with Jesus, didn’t “get it.” Because we all know that he got it in the end, that eventually he was transformed by the power of the Spirit. His mind was not renewed in a flash, but by a steady process of discipleship.

So it is with us. Learning how to put God first takes prayer and countless daily decisions, some of them right and some of them wrong. But if we trust in the goodness and the richness of God’s will for our lives, we will become more and more able to do not only what is good but what is best. In other words, our minds will be transformed, not conformed.

Best of all, we will move closer each day to finding the abundant life that Jesus has promised to all who pick up their cross and follow him.

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*John Murray, “The Epistle to the Romans,” The New International Commentary on the New Testament, II, 113.

One Enchanted Evening: Bishop Gordon's Installation

It would take a much more talented writer than I to describe the liturgy last night at St. Andrew's Cathedral in Victoria.  The music was glorious and the preaching was... all I can say is "inspired."

 The new bishop delivered both a delightful homily and a missionary manifesto at the end of Mass. His timing would have given Fulton Sheen--or Jay Leno--cause for jealousy, while the content was enough to stir the most jaded Christian.

But Bishop Gary was not the only one whose words touched the hearts of the overflowing congregation. Introductory words by our own Archbishop Miller, and the greeting of the Apostolic Nuncio, Archbishop Luigi Bonazzi, were both deep and rich.

It's not easy to watch two hours worth of video, but making the effort (not sure if you can fast forward while streaming!) would be well worth it.  Salt+Light broadcasts the installation Mass here.

If last night's celebration is any indication, Bishop Gary Gordon is well on his way to accomplishing his motto--Communio, the communion that defines the Church--in his new diocese.

On This Rock (21 A)

Since the Gospel today has a very serious message, I thought I would start with a joke.  But since nothing funny came to mind, I googled “homily and joke.” What came back was this: “Many thanks to all those who donated to the special collection for ‘Homily Appreciation.’”

What was really funny was that when I looked carefully at the website, it wasn’t a joke!  I’d like to meet that priest some day…

Speaking of jokes and homilies, I was at Star of the Sea parish on Tuesday when a packed church said farewell to my friend Father Stanley Galvon, their pastor for seventeen years. Father Galvon began his homily by saying “I am really grateful to see so many people gathered here to celebrate the … the second phase of Project Advance!”

With that kind of focus, I predict he will do great things in his new ministry as rector at the Cathedral.

But let’s get serious, since I started by saying the Gospel has a serious message.  In fact, it has at least two.

The first serious message concerns the Pope. The words that Jesus that we’ve just heard—“You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church. ... I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven” are written around the inside of the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, in letters two meters high (that’s 6.6 feet for us older folks).

That might seem a flashy way to proclaim Scripture, but the Church was trying to celebrate something truly wonderful—a gift to her from Christ her founder.

The gift is a gift of confidence and hope.  Confidence that what her leaders teach is true; a firm hope that the Church will not go off the rails.

How many other institutions or grand visions have ended up in the dumpster of history? Yet despite the great flaws of some Popes, bishops and priests, the Catholic Church has kept the Gospel undiluted by error.

On matters of faith and morals, a Catholic can stand firm knowing that the Church will not reverse her teaching down the road—no small thing, in these changing and confusing times.

The second serious message concerns each one of us directly. Because Jesus asks question “who do you say that I am” not only to the disciples of two thousand years ago, but to every disciple today.

Who do we say that Jesus is? One controversial blogger has said he is pretty sure that most folks in the pews couldn’t formulate an answer that goes beyond a few memorized phrases like “Son of God,” “Savior of the World,” and “Second Person of the Trinity.”

 

“All true,” he wrote, “but as answers they beg the question:  what do they mean?”

To be clear: we’re not talking theology here. Jesus is not looking for a clever answer but for a personal expression of faith.

In her remarkable book Forming Intentional Disciples: The Path to Knowing and Following Jesus, Sherry Weddell tells the story of interviewing a woman, the leader of a large group in a Canadian parish, and asking “Could you briefly describe to me your lived relationship with God to this point in your life?”

After thinking carefully for a few moments, the woman “responded briskly, ‘I don’t have a relationship with God.’”

After probing for an hour, Sherry Weddell concluded that what the woman had said was exactly right: “While God had a relationship with her (or she would not exist!), she did not have a conscious relationship with God.”

Could some of us be in this position?  Today, it’s Jesus and not Ms. Weddell who interviews us. Who is Jesus to me? Because if he is not my Lord, my God, and my Saviour, I am not a disciple.

All of us know Catholics who have left the Church, especially young ones. To understand this phenomenon—and to do something about it—we should ask: Who was Jesus to them? Were they ever disciples? But we must ask ourselves first.

We do many good things at Christ the Redeemer Parish, but none of them is half so important as forming intentional disciples who know and follow Jesus, the Christ, the Son of the living God.

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You can listen to Ralph Martin interview Sherry Weddell here.

The Global Leadership Summit 2014

I spent last week listening to some remarkable people.  The best known to Catholics is Father Robert Barron, the creator of the "Catholicism" series and the prolific preacher whose homilies and talks are the basis of the Word on Fire media ministry.

Together with four leaders from Catholic Christian Outreach, I met Father Barron in his office in the tranquil setting of St. Mary of the Lake Seminary, where he is rector.

Just a day later I sat in an auditorium with 7,000 other people--and many thousands more watching on large screens elsewhere--listening to the likes of General Electric's CEO, the crusading head of the tax department in Uganda, the former CEO of Hewlett Packard, and a Pentecostal pastor from Calcutta.

And that's just a taste of what went on at the Global Leadership Summit sponsored by Willow Creek Community Church, one of the largest churches in the US, attended weekly by some 25,000 people.  We even heard Michael Jr., a successful comedian, who manages to be both hilarious and Christian in his work.

While I was at the Summit, a priest friend sent me an e-mail asking for a summary.  I can tell you that a summit summary would be the longest sermon ever preached, or the longest e-mail ever written.

Still, I think it's important that I do my best to share this remarkable experience with you.

The Summit is the brainchild of Willow Creek's long-time pastor, Bill Hybels.  Twenty years ago he was inspired to create world-class leadership training to energize Christians around the world.  He invited an astonishing mix of speakers, including such diverse figures as President Bill Clinton and General Colin Powell, not to mention top executives like Jack Welch of GE and entertainers like Bono.

Other speakers have come from backgrounds in Christian ministry, social service, education, or the arts.  One of the most impressive speakers this year was an African American actor, playwright, and filmmaker named Tyler Perry.  I'd never heard of him, but since Wikipedia says he made $130 million last year, I'd say I'm in the minority.

Bill Hybels started the Summit with the conviction that business leaders can learn from pastors, and pastors from business leaders; that the young can learn from the old, and vice versa; and that religious people have much to learn from secular people, and secular people much to learn from them.

Why does this matter to you--if you're a reader of my blog, or a parishioner listening in church?  I'm not writing this because I thought you'd enjoy a little talk on "how I spent my summer vacation."  For one thing, an experience like this is no vacation.  It was an intense, even life-changing, time for me.  I expect to be living the lessons I've just learned for a very long time.

But the big reason why I hope you will click on some of these links, and take me at my word about the importance of the Global Leadership Summit, is that the whole thing will be offered on video very close to home--and around the world, if you're one of my few international readers--in October.

Here in British Columbia, the GLS will take place in Surrey and in Kelowna on October 23rd and 24th.  This link will give you location details as well as dates for other cities.

If you're taking me up on the challenge to investigate attending, your first question might be "Isn't this just for leaders?  Why me?"  If there was one thing that was clear at the Summit it was this: we are all leaders.  Some of us lead congregations, others companies, still others families.  But in one way or another, we are all leading.

The second question could be "Why do I need this?"  That was certainly one of mine.  The answer I received was blunt:  Do you want to develop, or not?  Do you want your life to be different, or not?

Leadership is a choice, not just a calling.  Carly Fiorina, former CEO of Hewlett-Packard, told us "Leaders have the joy of unlocking other people's potential as they unlock their own."

In the words of Jeffrey Immelt, the CEO of General Electric since 2001, "Leadership is an intense journey into yourself."  This was precisely how I felt at the Summit. It was sometimes painful.

The skeptical reader, especially one who knows me as a man of enthusiasms, might be wondering how this approach squares with Pope Francis's exhortation that "the people of God want pastors, not bureaucrats, or clergy acting like government officials." Yet in the same breath, the Pope calls on us to try "to be a Church that finds new roads, that is able to step outside itself and go to those who do not attend Mass, to those who have quit or are indifferent." The conference, I thought, offered a new road that could appeal to many outside of the Christian flock; indeed, much of the content and many of the speakers seemed to have been chosen with that in mind.*

And what of Pope Francis's  wonderful image of the Church as a field hospital after battle?  Does the Summit's approach to leadership run the danger of treating the Church like a business? Does it help heal wounds?

Personally, I sure hope to find a highly-trained and skillful surgeon if I arrive wounded at a field hospital.

Something that happened on my way home from the conference might help to show the broad application of the wisdom that was shared with us.  On the plane, I found myself seated beside an old friend whom I hadn't seen for some years.  Naturally enough I sang the praises of the GLS and he listened politely.

Later in the flight, though, we talked about how our lives were going.  He shared a very complex and painful problem in his family, one that required some immediate action to avoid long-term hurt.  I recognized right away that principles--and even practices--that I'd learned six hours earlier held a key to resolution and reconciliation.

This is precisely the genius of the Global Leadership Summit.  It looks like a big-business, big-ticket conference on management, the kind of thing you can find at Harvard Business School for a few thousand bucks anytime you've got a week to spare.  But thanks to the genius of Bill Hybels and his team, what you see is not what you get.  The Gospel is the organizing principle of the Summit and might be called the operating system that is its backbone.

Years ago I read a book called "Jesus, CEO," which argued that Christian principles could be the foundation of successful business leadership.  Days ago I became convinced that Christian principles--humility chief among them--must be the foundation of all leadership.

Equally, I hope I have learned that leadership skills are essential in every parish.  Certainly, the pastor must learn and follow them: Bill Hybels stressed that the culture of a community will only be as healthy as its leader wants it to be.  But I've also learned that there are many leaders in the parish, both volunteers and staff, who can advance the Gospel vision by living and learning these principles and methods.

Some of the speakers held us spellbound for an hour.  I thought it might be fun to try that in this week's homily, but I think it's probably a good idea to curb my enthusiasm.  But you'll be hearing more about this from me in the weeks and months ahead.

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* My Door Is Always Open, Pope Francis, with Antonio Spadaro, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2014; ISBN 9781472909763