Welcoming a Friend at the End? (19.C)

 

Today’s Gospel, obviously enough, is about how we are judged when we die or at the Last Judgement—whichever comes first.

Most of us think that day is a long way off. But my perspective was sharpened when a distant memory of the Challenger disaster came randomly to mind. For some reason it sent me looking for television footage from that tragic day.

What I found was a clip on You Tube which began with the astronauts, including a 37 year old schoolteacher, Christa McAuliffe, happily having breakfast together. It ends, of course, with the catastrophic explosion one minute and thirteen seconds after the launch.

I have to tell you that was a pretty good way of preparing to reflect on the possibility of a sudden end. In fact, watching the event made me want to preach more seriously than usual on these words of Jesus.

I found some very sober thoughts from Blessed James (Giacomo) Alberione, that are more powerful than anything I could say. He was a twentieth-century Italian priest who founded at least five modern religious orders. The first two, the Daughters of St. Paul and the Pauline Fathers, are best known for promoting the faith through modern media, so he ought to be a very good communicator.

Here is what Father Alberione said:

In whatever place we die, there shall the judgment-seat be erected, and we shall face it alone, accompanied only by our deeds, good or bad. Christ has no need of witnesses, neither of the devil’s accusations nor of the saints’ defense of us.

He knows all things; He is the all-wise Judge. He sees our minds and the thoughts entertained there. He knows the whole story, in detail, from start to finish.

Christ knows every sentiment of our heart, from the lowest to the holiest. He knows these sentiments in all their particulars, in all their fine points, in all their intensity. Christ knows every word uttered, from the first moment of our use of reason down to the last time our lips formed a word.

Every word is written in the book of life—empty words, holy words, forgot­ten words.... Christ knows all our most sublime actions as well as the most common, and the worst. He knows every step we have taken, the studies we have pursued, our relationships and correspondence, our daily routine of home life....

Furthermore, the Lord knows how much should have been done... He knows the degree of health a per­son had, the degree of intelligence, keenness of mind, memory, and ability; the graces given in childhood, youth and adult­hood.... There is an eye that sees everything, everywhere, always. There is an ear that hears everything, everywhere and always.... They belong, so to speak, to God.

What tremendous consolation for good souls... Jesus will remember everything ^-those victories over our passions, those repressions of angry impulses, that diligence at work.... If the judgment were to take place now, could we say that we have, for the most part, been faithful to God? ... Judgment will come. For the sinner it will be a terrible encounter.... And what bliss will flood the faithful soul when he at last meets Jesus.... It will be the long awaited embrace of friend with Friend.

I found this quotation in one of my favourite books of homilies, S. Joseph Krempa’s Captured Fire (Cycle C, p. 121). Monsignor Krempa adds a comment that is a fitting conclusion:

We may or may not be here when the Lord appears in glory at the Second Coming. But we will all encounter the Lord when He surely comes to each of us when our earthly life is over. What will that moment be like? Will it be a moment of regret or fulfillment? Will we fear a Judge or welcome a Friend? That is up to us.

Welcoming Fr. Zidago: A "Specialist"

 

How blessed we’ve been by our assistant pastors!

The gentleness of Fr. Xavier Royappan. The reflective wisdom of Fr. Paul Goo. The youthful energy of Fr. Giovanni Schiesari. Fr. Jeff Thomson with his organizational gifts that saw us through the pandemic. And the engaging and challenging preaching of Fr. Lucio Choi.

Each one of the five priests brought what our parish needed at the time.

And now we have a new one. What has the Lord sent us in Fr. Guy Zidago, whom we welcome today?

Our new assistant pastor arrives at CTR in the midst of a crisis.

But before Fr. Zidago turns around and heads back to Chilliwack, let me explain what I mean by “crisis”.

I don’t mean a panic or a meltdown—not that kind of crisis. The word comes to us from the Greek word for decision. Its initial use was in medicine: the crisis was the turning point in an illness—the decisive moment when it came clear that the patient would live or die.

A perfect storm of changes—some related to the pandemic, others to culture, still others to housing costs and the economy—is raging all around us. Our parish is in a crisis—a moment of decision. Will we simply manage decline, or will we take a new and bold path together?

 In this crisis, we are like a patient who has been assigned a new specialist. Fr. Zidago comes to us with all the usual priestly formation, but he has had special training and experience in a particular area: reawakening faith, helping people learn to live fully the Christian life.

He is a member of the Neocatechumenal Way, founded in the 1960s by two lay people, a man and a woman, who decided to offer the weary and weakened Church in Europe a path to full-on Christian life.

This movement is the cradle in which Fr. Zidago was rocked! A community “which aims at leading people to fraternal communion and mature faith”—to wholehearted and abundant life.

He is a specialist in proclaiming the bedrock of the Gospel message—the invitation to a personal friendship with Christ, lived in community with other Christians.

To prepare to welcome Fr. Zidago, I read up on the Neocatechumenate. Among those the movement tries to reach are those who have drifted away from the Church, those who have not been sufficiently evangelized and catechized, and those who desire to deepen and mature their faith (cf. Statutes, Article 5, §1).

Aren’t these precisely the people Christ the Redeemer parish hopes to welcome and form as disciples?

In today’s second reading, St. Paul tells the only way we can respond to this crisis, to this turning point in our history. He says “Seek the things that are above, where Christ is…” Christ who “is all and in all.”

Those words remind me of a favourite verse from the Letter to the Hebrews: “Let us keep our eyes fixed on Jesus.”

At this time of crisis, the way forward for our parish is not “mere” Christianity but “real” Christianity, lived through personal relationship with the Lord.

We don’t want to be an average parish but an extraordinary one, in which each member is invited to dive deeper in faith—to take the plunge.

I think we’ll find Fr. Zidago a good coach as we stand nervously at the edge of the pool.

Does Jesus mean what he said? (17.C)

 

This is a dangerous Gospel—a very dangerous teaching. It’s as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar, but many ships have run aground there.

The dangerous thing about today’s Gospel is this: every single person in this church knows it isn’t true.

Each of us has prayed for something or someone and not received what we asked for. We have searched, and not found. We have knocked, and the door stayed shut.

So, if we take what Jesus says at face value we are in trouble.

And often enough we do. People tell me their faith is shaken by unanswered prayers. Even as a parish we pray for people to recover from illness but they die.

How can we understand the words of Jesus as true, despite our own experiences?

The answer to this question must be rock solid unless we just want to overlook our Lord’s teaching on petitionary prayer.

The philosopher Peter Kreeft gives a pretty good answer rooted in both faith and logic.*

He says the only possible reason why we don’t get exactly what we ask for is that God knows what we need better than we do. It’s not because God doesn’t hear us. It’s not because God doesn’t love us. It’s certainly not because he doesn’t have the power to give us what we ask for.

(By the way, after I preached this homily for the first time a very wise elderly parishioner spoke with me at the back of the church and reminded me that many of our prayers are indeed answered as requested! A good point, reinforced a few minutes later by a much younger parishioner who said “I did get 95 on the math exam that I asked you to pray for!”)

The only way to understand what Jesus says is to believe that God knows much better than we do what we really need and what will be the very best thing for us in the end.

Does that make sense to you? It’s a straightforward argument. But things get a bit tricky when we try to use that argument in real life. Because what we really need and what will be the best thing for us in the end includes suffering.

A philosopher’s argument about God’s providence is not enough to heal the doubts we have when desperate prayers aren’t answered. We need more.

Only in relationship to God—only in prayerful conversation with him—can our  hearts accept that he really does want what is best for us, especially when that involves suffering.

Only by trusting him the way children trust their parents can we live fully the truth that Dr. Kreeft explains. And we find the key to that trust in my all-time favourite Bible verse, Romans 8:28, where St. Paul tells us that all things work together for good to those who love God.

As I’ve said before “all things” includes bad things.

I don’t know about you, but I pray all the time to avoid bad things. I pray for parishioners, family, and friends to get well, to find jobs, and even to pass exams. It has taken many years of so-called unanswered prayers and many conversations with God for me to accept that what Jesus says about asking and receiving, searching and finding is true.

And that our Heavenly Father does hear our persistent prayers, every time.

There is much more to be said about this morning’s Gospel, but I think these basic points are enough for us to consider. I would like to end by sharing what Pope Francis said during his flight to Canada this morning.

Despite all that’s on his mind about his “penitential pilgrimage” to our country, the Holy Father spoke with the journalists on his plane about the World Day for Grandparents and Elderly we are celebrating this Sunday. Obviously, this day of prayer for our grandparents and the elderly is very important to him.

He called them “the link between generations, passing on the experience of life and faith to the young.”

“Young people,” the Pope said, “must have contact with their grandparents, go back to them, go back to their roots,” emphasizing how grandparents are responsible for helping future generations blossom and mature.

Pope Francis reminded us that each one of us has grandparents, whether alive or dead. He said let us remember them today in a special way, since from them we have received so many things, our own history first of all.

In his remarks, of course, he did not forget the purpose of his trip. The Holy Father also noted that this Apostolic Journey demands special attention and  a special “spirit” since it is a penitential pilgrimage to show his closeness to the Indigenous who have suffered.

So at Mass today we join the Pope in both his intentions: reconciliation with Canada’s First Nations and appreciation and gratitude for our grandparents and elders.

 ______

* Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul: Reflections on the Mass Readings, Cycle C, page 513-514.

Jason Costa 1991 - 2022

 

 Son – Grandson – Nephew – Cousin – Friend – Coach – Wheelchair athlete – Colleague – Catechist – Coordinator.

Jason Costa was all these things during his 31 years on earth, and more. But today I invite you to remember him as a teacher—because I think his most lasting legacy to us is the lesson of his life.

Jason didn’t plan every detail of this funeral Mass because he was vain, or even because he was efficient. He saw this as an opportunity to share with us his deepest beliefs, beliefs that were tried and tested over many years.

Today he wants to teach us something. Like a good teacher, he is using a textbook—the Word of God—and examples—his own life.

Jason learned well the lesson he was called to teach. He learned it through years of suffering, physical and emotional—but also through joy and hope, gifts he received and gifts he shared.

What was this lesson?  That it is possible for an ordinary man to suffer with Christ and so share His triumph.

He chose our first reading from the Book of Wisdom to profess his faith in immortality; he believed that his suffering was a path to glory. Of course, I or any preacher could tell you that, but there’s no reason you should believe me. But there is every reason to believe Jason.

Jason lived by the law of love. Imitating Christ, who laid down His life for us, he sought to serve his brothers and sisters in the Church in a variety of ministries. His choice of a second reading from the First Epistle of St. John could well serve as an epitaph: he laid down his life for his brothers and sisters.

St. John’s words also reassure us that Jason’s love for others, even more than his many accomplishments, gives us the hope we seek of his eternal salvation.

As the Gospel Acclamation says, blessed are those “who die in the Lord; they will rest from their labours for their deeds follow them.”

Although he chose today’s Gospel from the Scripture readings for funerals, I can’t say I have ever heard it read before. It’s from Jesus’ farewell speech to his disciples. What did Jason want us to think?

I found one answer in a commentary on the first verse of the text, which said “The longing of Jesus’ heart is for his disciples to be with him in the Father’s house (14:2).”  Jason is not comparing himself to the Lord, but he has the same thought as he leaves us: he desires that we may be with him in glory. Every one of us, when the Lord calls.

If I am right, this is a profoundly loving gift to us from Jason.

So far, in all three readings, we are looking toward Heaven. Even the Psalm, with its vision of green pastures and restful waters, is heavenly.

But that is not all Jason has to teach us. There are some earthly lessons as well.

In an article he wrote for the newsletter that he himself had started for the Permanent Diaconate, Jason cited two passages from St. Paul. I didn’t look them up at the time, but I have done so now.

In Romans chapter 5, Paul says we boast in our sufferings, “knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produced hope”—hope that does not disappoint us.

While that hope reaches to eternity, suffering can bring blessings on earth: endurance and character. Jason did not want a eulogy at his funeral, but I really don’t need to point out that he was a living example of this truth. Once again, he is teaching us.

I don’t know about you, but if I must deal with serious illness some day Jason’s example will be front and centre.

He also tells us that he found strength in Paul’s words to the Philippians, where the Apostle writes “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” (Phil. 4:13)

In Jason’s own words, “the Lord gives us strength to push past the trials in our lives, though only if we choose to turn to him and trust in him.”

To have battled cancer so long and so well would have been an accomplishment in itself, had Jason spent his career in a bank, where he began. But that was not enough. He decided to grow and to reach his full human and spiritual potential.

Spiritually, Jason’s passion to teach and share the faith his parents planted in his heart at baptism at Our Lady of Fatima was so strong that just one parish wasn’t enough for him.

During his years of active involvement in parish life he sang or taught or led at St. Mary’s, Our Lady of Sorrows, and Sacred Heart; and when he was the parish secretary at Christ the Redeemer, he filled in for the grade seven catechism teacher during her maternity leave.

It's not by accident that all five of these parishes have been represented at Jason’s funeral liturgies, by priests, deacons, readers, or servers. He planned it this way.

Even these years of generous and gifted parish ministry weren’t enough for Jason. He felt called to serve the whole local Church in the Permanent Diaconate Office. Beginning as an administrative assistant supporting me, he ended as the coordinator, with me supporting him.

In the permanent diaconate Jason truly fulfilled his vocation as teacher. Not only did he begin to give talks to the future deacons, but he also became involved in every aspect of formation planning and in our relationship with St. Mark’s College.

I still remember realizing that something had shifted when he said “no need for you to meet with the dean. I’ll go.”

His service to the Archdiocese contributed enormously to the success we have had training permanent deacons, which is recognized by the honour of having our Archbishop preside at Jason’s funeral Mass.

(The other day the Archbishop remarked that it is now hard to imagine the Archdiocese without our deacons; it will be hard to imagine our deacons without Jason.)

But his work also contributed to the full development of his gifts and talents. By the time of his death, Jason had become what God wanted him to be, both spiritually and humanly speaking.

The American inventor Thomas Edison once said, “If we did all the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.” I can certainly tell you that Jason astounded me.

Jason prepared a banquet from God’s word for us today, sharing the truths and promises on which he had based his life. But I want to close with words of St. Ignatius of Loyola. I texted him the day he told me he was dying:

“We should not prefer health to sickness, riches to poverty, honour to dishonour, a long life to a short life … Our one desire and choice should be what is more conducive to the end for which we are created.” (The Spiritual Exercises, “First Principle and Foundation”)

Not for a minute do I suggest that Jason did not prefer a long life to a short life, or health to sickness. But he accepted that his hardships were a path to peace and that his trials could lead towards the end for which he was created, namely the salvation of his soul.

My heart breaks today, but it is not sorrow for Jason but for his loving parents Maria and Bernadino who walked the Way of the Cross with their son with so much love for so many years. We pray for them today as they face this terrible loss.

But for Jason I do not feel sorrow but admiration, confident as I am that he left this world having fulfilled precisely the purpose that God had for him.

May he rest from his labours and trials, welcomed to the Father’s house as a true teacher of the ways of Christ.

Que ele descanse em paz.

The Cross: Our Key and Challenge (14.C)

 

Msgr. Stanley Krempa, author of a fine series of books of homilies, tells a story about a First Communion rehearsal. The teacher wanted the children to process up the aisle is two straight lines. But they wobbled all over the place,  because they were looking at the classmate directly in front of them.

So the teacher said, “Just look at the cross in the front of the church, and you will be OK.”

And they were.

“Just look at the cross in the front of the church, and you will be OK.” That is good advice for all of us, Msgr. Krempa observes.

In our second reading today, St. Paul reminds us that the Cross is our path to peace. It gives direction to our lives and meaning to our suffering.

The cross also tells us how we should relate to the world. In one of his most famous sermons, St. John Henry Newman calls the Cross of Christ “the measure of the world.”

In  that sermon, he invites us to look around, and see what the world shows us. He says “Go to the court of princes. … Consider the form and ceremonial, the pomp, the state, the circumstance, and the vainglory. Do you wish to know the worth of it all? Look at the Cross of Christ.”

He says “Go to the political world: see nation jealous of nation, trade rivalling trade, armies and fleets matched against each other. Survey the various ranks of the community, its parties and their contests, the strivings of the ambitious, the intrigues of the crafty. What is the end of all this turmoil? The grave. What is the measure? The Cross”

“Go, again,” Newman continues, “to the world of intellect and science: consider the wonderful discoveries which the human mind is making, the variety of arts to which its discoveries give rise, the all but miracles by which it shows its power; and next, the pride and confidence of reason. … Would you form a right judgment of all this? Look at the Cross.”

“Again: look at misery, look at poverty and destitution, look at oppression and captivity; go where food is scanty, and lodging unhealthy. Consider pain and suffering, diseases long or violent, all that is frightful and revolting. Would you know how to rate all these? Gaze upon the Cross.”

“Thus in the Cross,” the saint concludes, “and [in] Him who hung upon it, all things meet; all things [further] it, all things need it”. It is centre of all things and their interpretation. “For He was lifted up upon it, that He might draw all men and all things unto Him.”

The Quaker William Penn, who helped to found Pennsylvania, suffered much for his nonconformist faith, but he titled his most famous book No Cross, No Crown.

I am rightly criticized for not always including the Gospel text in my homilies, and equally with frequently including an advertise­ment for some parish activity or other. Today for sure I will turn to the Gospel before I finish, but not without a commercial.

Today’s Gospel contains a very interesting number: 72. Last time we looked, the number of Christ’s key followers was 12, the Apostles. Suddenly there are sixty more missionaries. There’s no explanation for this major development, nothing like the story of how the first deacons were appointed when the apostles figured they had more important things to do than serving meals or when God told Moses ti appoint 70 elders since he was just plain exhausted.

No, we go from 12 to 72.  There’s probably a reason for this. St. Luke figures we know the backstory of the number 72. The Book of Genesis says there were 72 Gentile nations. If we compare that to the 12 tribes of Israel, we can see how the mission of the Apostles to the Chosen People is now broadening to include all nations.

That’s worth noting, but what’s the point for us? Simply that Jesus didn’t just send Apostles, future bishops, to the mission field. Early on, ordinary disciples were called to be missionaries, called to proclaim the Good News to everyone, even those beyond their immediate Jewish circles.

And what’s the commercial? They didn’t go out like an army, 72 of them marching in formation, but two by two. Nor did they go out one by one—in his Angelus address this morning, Pope Francis points out that from a practical view, it would have been better to send the disciples out individually, since there'd be less chance of disagreements!

No, two by two, one Christian supporting another Christian, bearing witness together that the faith is lived in community.

Our parish needs many people to step up to help us rebuild and grow following the pandemic. But not an army—72 will do nicely! And our request for your help promises at least one other person to support you in whatever service you offer. We need to build a culture of collaboration so that no-one fears getting stuck in some volunteer ministry all by his or herself.

We are in this together. Two by two, looking straight ahead at the Cross of Christ.    

_____________

I can't resist posting this affirming and generous comment sent by email from one of our most affirming and generous parishioners:

For me there was no need for you to apologize for including a "commercial" for our parish events in yesterday's homily. You don't deliver commercials, but sound, healthy reminders to each parish member of how the gospel links to our parish life.

You continue to lead us to a very rich menu of CTR programs which can grow our practical understanding of God's word and His plan for us.

Stay your course.                                        

Confirmation "Coaches"

 

At the rehearsal for today’s celebration, I promised the confirmands a homily about sports, mentioning my long history as an athlete. Now I have to tell you, only one student laughed, and I think he was a bit embarrassed. I, on the other hand, was pleased that at least one of the students I was confirming was honest!  

(My father says that as soon as I had my picture taken in my hockey uniform in grade five, I was finished with the sport and thereafter the jersey was used as a Halloween costume for my siblings.)

Anyway, despite my famous – infamous – lack of athletic ability, it’s been my privilege and pleasure to know three professional athletes in the course of my priesthood.

The first was Jamie Taras of the BC Lions - a wonderful man that I knew at the height of his playing career despite the fact that I don’t know the difference between a touchdown and a field goal.

The second was Trevor Linden, who became a good friend at the height of his hockey career even though I don’t know the difference between icing and offside.

I learned much from these two men - but not as much as I learned from a second BC Lion, whom I certainly didn’t know at the height of his playing career – which came when I was nine years old. His name is Don Vicic.

Don Vicic, a parishioner at St. Anthony’s, played for the BC Lions and won the Grey Cup with them in 1964. Before that he played college football with a very successful team, Ohio State University, whose coach was so famous that even I knew his name.

When Don Vicic came to speak to our men’s group last week at what we call the “godly hour” of 6:00 am, his title was “My Three Coaches,” so I prepared to be bored because I wouldn’t know who they were except for his college coach. He surprised me enormously and delighted me when it turned out I knew two of his three coaches. And, in fact, they had nothing to do with sports.

These “coaches” were those he counted as his teachers and heroes. And the first was a parishioner at Christ the Redeemer, with whom I worked before I was a priest and whose funeral I celebrated right here. His name was George O’Leary.

George was a truly gracious and remarkable man who fought in the Pacific and was almost killed three times.

Don greatly admired this business leader – this fellow Catholic. So he went and told George he was preparing to retire. George said, “Don, you need a vision in retirement or you will be dead in three years. You need goals so clear you can see them!”

So, a dozen years ago, Don made these goals: “to grow my spiritual life, my health, my wealth, and my education.” The last of these he did by visiting 125 battlefields from both the first and second World Wars.

That was twelve years ago, and Don says they have been the best years of his life.

To keep my homily short, I will skip the second coach, who was an author and a life skills coach who gave Don some wonderful advice including “avoid negative thoughts” which the author calls “ANTS”. He calls expressing thanks to others an ANT-eater, which is a pretty good image for those of us who try to have an attitude of gratitude.

So far so good: I knew 50% of his coaches and their advice seemed solid.

And then he came to the third. Someone I not only knew but know. Don Vicic told us that his greatest coach and greatest hero was Jesus Christ.

He said, “it took me forty-five years to get there… I never understood the personal relationship with Jesus.” Forty-five years of churchgoing, forty-five years of supporting his parish, forty-five years of good family life, and he hadn’t met Jesus in a way that would fully guide and inspire and direct this fine man who wanted to be better – who wanted life to be fuller.

Often I think whether you’re young or older, we feel that we have a duty to know the Lord or even an obligation, a word I hate. What Don understood was that we have an opportunity, we have a privilege, we have a joy.

I think even the most religious person – and certainly those getting confirmed – has a right to ask, “What’s in it for me? What difference does it make with this Holy Spirit stuff?”

Here’s Don Vicic’s answer, “If I had known Christ personally when I was twenty, I’d have been a better athlete. If I had known Christ personally when I was twenty, I’d have been a better businessman, father and husband.”

This is someone who was a great athlete, a great businessman, a fine father and husband, saying that if he had known Jesus forty-five years earlier he says he would have been better. Specifically, he said that when Jesus coached him after He finally gave Jesus the chance after retirement, the coach said, “You are a son. You are an heir. You are made by God. You are loved by God. You are of infinite value.”

Now this is what God says to you, dear confirmands, this morning. “You are sons and daughters, my sons and daughters. You are made by me, created by me inwardly and outwardly. You are loved by me. You are of infinite value to me and to the world.”

Don concluded his remarks with, “What a coach!” And I would say, what lessons! We can learn them today because they are not difficult, they’re not complicated. And eventually we will be able to say with Don Vicic, “What energy my Catholic faith gives me, allowing me to have a relationship with Christ!”

I am very grateful to Don Vicic, first for allowing me to make his inspiring presentation the basis for my Confirmation homily, and now for graciously permitting me to share his thoughts on my blog. Thank you, Don! 

The Indwelling of the Trinity and the Interior Life (Trinity Sunday C.)

 

When my mother was living in our parish, I always knew what people were saying! Not that anyone would complain about me directly, but there’s always be someone who’d tell her “I think it’s dreadful what Mrs. So-and-So is saying about your wonderful son.”

When Mom agreed with the critics, she was quick to let me know and to offer good advice.

One time she said that some folks were bothered by my absences from the parish. She said I should write about my travels in the bulletin and tell them where I was going.

That worked well, but now we don’t have a bulletin! So I am going to tell you where I was this week, and why.

At Archbishop Miller’s suggestion, I went to a retreat in the U.S. that was offered for those who direct programs for permanent deacons, as I do in the Archdiocese.

I wasn’t sure why we needed a special retreat, but I quickly found out. It was organized by an institute dedicated to the spiritual renewal of the permanent diaconate at the Franciscan University of Steubenville. Its focus is simple but profound: making the interior life of deacons the priority.

In training good men like Deacons Steve and Marty, I have not worried too much about their interior life; we spend more time on making sure they can preach well and serve generously.

During the retreat and Deacon James Keating's lecture that preceded it, I became convinced that I often get things the wrong way around—and not only for deacons, but myself as well.

The spiritual life must be number one, not just for priests and deacons but for every baptized Christian. Jesus tells us as much in the famous story of Martha and Mary. We all remember what he told Martha, the worker-bee. “Mary has chosen the better part.”

We are getting ready for some serious pastoral planning, to plot the course for Christ the Redeemer Parish as the pandemic ends. We’ll ask how the Lord wants us to grow in faith, rebuild community, form disciples, and care for others in new circumstances.

But after this week’s retreat, I hope we will start by thinking about our interior life. And there’s no better day on which to start than today’s feast of the Holy Trinity.

I could preach for hours on the truths contained in what Christians believe about God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—but if those truths stay outside us, they’re just theology.

When we look at how our faith in the Blessed Trinity changes us inside, we start to realize the power and importance of this doctrine.

Today’s readings aren’t easy to unpack. But we can go straight to the heart of the matter with one phrase from St. Paul in the second reading: “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given us.”

What does he mean? Jesus tells us in St. John’s Gospel: “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them and make our home with them.” (Jn 14:23)

The Catechism of the Catholic Church puts it clearly: this means that “even now we are called to be a dwelling for the Most Holy Trinity.” (CCC 260)

Christian life doesn’t get more “interior” than that.

And yet how many of us are aware each day that the Father, Son, and Spirit are living and moving at the center of our being? And in times of trouble, how often do we stop to realize we are never alone? Never without someone to talk with, never without someone to comfort us.

Someone once said that Catholics who understand the indwelling presence of the Trinity can pray to God within their hearts as if before a Tabernacle.

What if this ancient teaching is new to you? I wouldn’t be surprised, because it’s a well-kept secret of our faith, for some reason. What should we do next?

The late Jesuit priest Father John Hardon lists three implications of the indwelling presence of God in our souls. They offer a good action plan.

First, gratitude. Thank God for having chosen to dwell in you. Thank God for making us creatures in whom He can dwell, so that He can know and love us the way that He loves Himself.  

Second, awareness. We need to be aware of the special, intimate presence of God in our souls. If we are not as aware of God’s indwelling, it is not because He does not want us to be aware; it can only be we aren’t recognizing his presence and responding to him.

Thirdly, conversation. Prayer is many things; but the most fundamental thing is a conversation. God by His indwelling is constantly talking to us; that’s also clear in today’s Gospel, where Jesus tells us that the Spirit will guide us into all truth. He will speak to us, precisely in the depth of our hearts where he is dwelling.

The path to discovering God within is through prayer. But we are not always listening.

Father Hardon offers wonderful clear-cut advice: “Search, scour, dig, beg God to make you more conscious of His presence.”

How’s that for a challenge? “Search, scour, dig, and beg.”

If you’ll excuse the image, it’s almost like a treasure hunt: God dwelling in me can be the “pearl of great price” to which Jesus refers in the well-known parable of the Kingdom.

The rewards of finding the treasure are numerous, beginning with a deep intimacy with God. But as St. Paul tells us today, there are other blessings as well—knowing God in our hearts makes it possible to suffer with Christ and in Christ, and to find hope in every situation.

Finally, a specific proposal. If you want to experience and understand God’s indwelling presence, but you’re not that comfortable with silent prayer, join us for the next Water in the Desert, this coming Saturday, June 18, at 7 p.m.

Water in the Desert is an invitation to a deeper interior life, which is the great promise of today’s feast to each of us.