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.

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* 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.    

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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.