The Jesus Moment... my latest at Patheos...

I want to wish you all a very happy Holy Week! Tonight starts the vigil that leads us into the Triduum.  Over at Patheos, I offer my latest column. Here's the front end...

I collect refrigerator magnets that capture some of my favorite moments. You’ll find many familiar faces under clear plastic frames, loved ones from far and near. The rest of the door is littered with keepsakes from favorite travel destinations. One magnet, quoting Italian author and poet, Cesare Pavese, explains them all: “We do not remember days. We remember moments.” 

The power of memory is at once a terrible and tremendous gift. I have learned that the more I recall, with gratitude and thanksgiving, the things that bring me freedom and joy, the more I am drawn to remember them when terrible things strike. Such memories bind and hold me together, anchors against strong tides. Leaning into difficult moments, I sift the value of their import, against what I hold true. 

I recently came out of the confessional after a tender, grace-filled moment with Jesus in the sacrament of Reconciliation, having released a deep emotional wound. Minutes later in the pew, after my prayers of release and relief, I sought to linger in the peaceful presence of God. 

I opened my bible to the fifth chapter of John. The words on the sacred page seemed as if they were written just for me. The text described Jesus’ instantaneous healing of a paralyzed man whose affliction disabled him for 38 years.  This, after I had just experienced something lifted from my heart that had crippled me for about the same length of time. Those verses were a second gift from Jesus, a bonus to the graces of the sacrament, given to me, no doubt, so I wouldn’t miss the point. The formerly paralyzed man didn’t keep his news to himself. And so, here I am, in imitation. 

Jesus could not have been any more real to me than if he walked into the chapel and sat down next to me. I will hold onto that for some time to come and cherish it as I, too, learn how to walk with stronger legs after Jesus. 

That moment in the chapel was just the most recent in a series of Jesus moments in my life. I could never have constructed it, or imagined it on my own. It was totally orchestrated by him. Like a lover’s spontaneous kiss that renders you speechless, it begs only to be received. 

There's more, here.

Doing What We Are Called to Do... Remembering Fr. Larry Penzes. My latest column at Patheos

The lives we lead have ripple effects for good or for ill.

Here's my remembrance of Fr. Larry Penzes, a priest whose quiet zeal had a lasting impact on me and others. Tragedy struck him and those who knew him on March 12, 2002, as he was gunned down as he was saying a morning Mass in his parish. It's the subject of my column, this week, at Patheos. Here's an excerpt:

I was eighteen when I met Fr. Larry Penzes, a newly ordained diocesan priest assigned to St. Pius X Church in Plainview, New York. Fr. Larry was buoyant yet quietly hardworking. Generous and friendly, he was always finding ways to bring people together for a Mass, for a special project to help others, or for fellowship. 

I have Fr. Larry to thank for instilling in me a desire to serve the local church. I remember how he talked me into running for a seat on the parish council. Then he encouraged our pastor to hire me as a youth minister. 

The young people I knew trusted Fr. Larry. He made himself available to hear their halting confessions, or to give talks or pray the Mass in their homegrown chapel on youth retreats. He never shied away from the tougher problems teenagers faced. He taught that the only way to get out of being stuck on oneself is by taking time to serve people in need. 

Fr. Larry’s witness was a clear and honest living of the faith, not over-intellectualizing it, or underselling it. His life as a priest was not just a job, nor was his military career as an Air Force chaplain just a duty. Life was faith and faith was life and they all blended together seamlessly without being broken into compartments. He was a man with a ready smile, a ready handshake, and ready service. His priesthood was engaging because he engaged people and delighted in life. 

Fr Larry was simply one of the folks. He loved the New York Jets, and he was always ready for a celebration. I’ll never forget his dressing up in a tuxedo, zipping around the dance floor at a formal event that brought church personnel and parishioners together. Or, the day he playfully donned clown make-up and became a mime in a youth workshop. 

Fr. Larry was my first priest-friend, but not the last. 

Read the rest.

This makes me think... Memorial Day Edition

"This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.  Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

~John 15: 12-13

"BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD"
By Theodore O'Hara


The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tattoo;
No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And Glory guards, with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumor of the foe's advance
Now swells upon the wind;
Nor troubled thought at midnight haunts
Of loved ones left behind;
No vision of the morrow's strife
The warrior's dream alarms;
No braying horn nor screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.
Their shriveled swords are red with rust,
Their plumed heads are bowed,
Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,
Is now their martial shroud.
And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow,
And the proud forms, by battle gashed
Are free from anguish now.
The neighing troop, the flashing blade,
The bugle's stirring blast,
The charge, the dreadful cannonade,
The din and shout, are past;
Nor war's wild note nor glory's peal
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that nevermore may feel
The rapture of the fight.
Like the fierce northern hurricane
That sweeps the great plateau,
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain,
Came down the serried foe,
Who heard the thunder of the fray
Break o'er the field beneath,
Knew well the watchword of that day
Was "Victory or death!"
Long had the doubtful conflict raged
O'er all that stricken plain,
For never fiercer fight had waged
The vengeful blood of Spain;
And still the storm of battle blew,
Still swelled the gory tide;
Not long, our stout old chieftain knew,
Such odds his strength could bide.
Twas in that hour his stern command
Called to a martyr's grave
The flower of his beloved land,
The nation's flag to save.
By rivers of their father's gore
His first-born laurels grew,
And well he deemed the sons would pour
Their lives for glory too.
For many a mother's breath has swept
O'er Angostura's plain --
And long the pitying sky has wept
Above its moldered slain.
The raven's scream, or eagle's flight,
Or shepherd's pensive lay,
Alone awakes each sullen height
That frowned o'er that dread fray.
Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground
Ye must not slumber there,
Where stranger steps and tongues resound
Along the heedless air.
Your own proud land's heroic soil
Shall be your fitter grave;
She claims from war his richest spoil --
The ashes of her brave.
Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest,
Far from the gory field,
Borne to a Spartan mother's breast
On many a bloody shield;
The sunshine of their native sky
Smiles sadly on them here,
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
The heroes sepulcher.
Rest on embalmed and sainted dead!
Dear as the blood ye gave;
No impious footstep shall here tread
The herbage of your grave;
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While fame her records keeps,
Or Honor points the hallowed spot
Where Valor proudly sleeps.
Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell,
When many a vanquished ago has flown,
The story how ye fell;
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight,
Nor Time's remorseless doom,
Shall dim one ray of glory's light
That gilds your deathless tomb.
HT: http://gerardnadal.com/ Thanks, Gerry!

About servicemen serving our nation today.

Also: I am moved by this photo from the Vietnam Memorial in DC of someone remembering another whose name is etched in the Wall. Go see all the photos honoring Memorial Day at UPI.

Among Women salutes all our Vets living & deceased

 Thank you for your service and your patriotism.

Moving video posted by Catholic TV here.