Wedding Homily - Liturgical Preaching Class

This was the final homily for the class.  Again, no text, I had an outline, but no written text

First Sunday of Advent - Liturgical Preaching Class

How I rejoiced when I heard them say, let us go to Mass and pray

Christ is coming, Christ is here, Christ will come again

As a baby, as a King, You do not know the day

You know not the time, wake from your sleep, put on Christ the Lord

Night is advanced, the day is at hand, soon is the hour.

Children or adult, man or woman, one will be left behind

One will be taken, one to see the Lord, let me be the one

Make your house ready, ready for the king, you do not know when

Not the house you live in, the house within, make it free of sin

Daughter says to mother, fewer gifts this year, give our gifts to God

Son says to father, fewer gifts this year, give our gifts to the poor

Baby Jesus coming, God is near, make straight His paths

God is with us, Emmanuel, (make ready) the way of the Lord.

Christ the King Homily - Liturgical Preaching Class

From our Liturgical Preaching class.
Sorry, there is no text this week, I gave the homily extemporaneously

Funeral Homily - Liturgical Preaching Class

Funeral Homily for John Jones

On behalf of the Pastor, the staff and all of us here at St. Julia's, please accept our deepest condolences on the loss of your husband, your father and your friend. It is always a sad time to say goodbye and we have missed and will miss John’s familiar presence in our liturgies here.

Carol, Michael and William, John’s immediate family, gather with the rest of us to acknowledge a hole in our lives where John used to be. This Mass is for John but it is also about us.  We miss John, we know that he has died and will not be here with us again.  But, we are Christians and we have hope.

There are three symbols here today that remind us of John’s baptism.  In Baptism, the Pascal candle was lit, a white garment was placed on John and holy water was poured over him three times.  In that baptism, John joined with Christ as part of the family of God.  Today, we placed a white cloth over John once again and we sprinkled Holy water on him in memory of that Baptism.

Behind me today is the third symbol, the Paschal candle, burning brightly once again with the light of Christ. It is a reminder to us of the suffering, death and most importantly, the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We have in Christ, a God who suffered. We have in Christ, the light of the world, an image for us of the first fruits from death. We believe that Christ rose from the dead and He promised us everlasting life with Him. This is our hope. This is our strength to go on. There is more to our existence than these few years here on this earth.

Through our faith, we have confidence in life after death. Through God's mercy, we hope and pray that John is even now on his way to his eternal reward, completely sound of mind and body. We know that John believed, so we know that he will have eternal life. He may have died to this existence, but he lives on in the life of Christ.

Our belief in eternal life will comfort us, perhaps not today, but in time.  Today's first reading reminds us that “The Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces.” Nobody expects today to be a time without tears, but the time will come when the tears will subside. Not because we love John less, but because we have come to accept our loss and realize that he is likely waiting for us to be reunited with him in the place God has prepared for us all. I am sure that with some time, today's loss and pain will be replaced with your best memories of the man you all loved. 

We pray for John, now beyond this mortal world, that he may be reunited with his God.

We pray for those of us left behind in this mortal world.  May we console each other in our grief, allow the tears to flow and bring all of our grief, pain and suffering to our God who can help us bear it all.

Video of same homily

 

Cape Ann Parish Assignment

Each year and each summer, we are assigned to a parish to help develop our pastoral skills.  This year I am assigned to a pastor in Cape Ann, Massachusetts.  FR. J. is the pastor of two parishes (but not an official collaborative of the Archdiocese of Boston (yet)).   As a third year student, we are supposed to be at our assignment for 6 hours including travel time.

I leave early Sunday morning.  It is a 45 minute drive to the first parish and the 8:30 Mass.  I greet the parishioners as they arrive and have some short conversations with them.  I read or serve as an Extraordinary Minister of the Eucharist, or just participate in the Mass with the assembly.  After Mass, I move over to the rectory and help with the RCIA program. 

Once RCIA is over, I drive to the other parish and join the Mass already in progress there.  I greet the parishioners as they exit Mass and then move over to the rectory there to assist with a confirmation class.  Once that is finished, I meet the pastor for lunch and discussion before I head back to the seminary.

I get to talk to a lot of people, help with some adult and teen faith formation and get to pick the pastors brain about the vocation that I will be doing in about 18 months.  It is a good assignment.

Reflections from a Labyrinth

Why do I stiff arm you, O Lord?
I walk alongside you, yet keep you at a distance.
Why am I afraid to let you close to me?
I know you have called me to be a priest and I want to respond to that call. 

So why do I keep you at a distance?
Am I moving towards you or away from you?
When will I allow your healing touch?

As I walked the labyrinth this year, I noticed how you were always at my side. 
Just like the poem, "Footsteps in the sand". 
Rarely, you were behind me or in front of me. 
Perhaps that is the way life is. 
You stay beside us most of the time. 
When we are focused on you, you are in front of us. 
When we turn our backs to you, you are behind us. 
But you are also behind us when we need a push or a kick in the rear.

The center object changes as I walk the labyrinth. 
God's presence also manifests in many ways. 
A card or call from a friend (not a hint).
A memory of a loved one. 
The face of a fellow companion on the journey. 
A particular phrase from scripture or another good book. 

God, I am not the man you need me to be, not yet. 
Perhaps I will be. 
Perhaps the gift bestowed at ordination may bring me closer to the man I need to be. 
But even if that does not happen, 
        broken as I am, 
               I give my life, myself, 
                    my all to you.

Updates from Maine

I have my head above water again here at the seminary.  We are in our last week before retreat, so things are winding down.  My last deliverable is a homily, then I can get current on my reading assignments and start packing.  Faculty will not assign anything to be due for the first few days when we get back.

If you also follow me on Face Book, you will have seen this article about my home parish in Maine closing it's doors.  It was a sad moment in time, but not at all unexpected. The other parish in my home town is younger, larger and more vibrant.  The handwriting was on the door (shades of Luther) in 1988 when our parish was split in two and a new parish was created in the next town over.  It left our parish in much poorer financial conditions. It just took 25 years to come to the final conclusion.  The finance committee suggested it, the other parish committees and pastor approved it and the Bishop accepted the recommendation.

I will not be praying a Mass of Thanksgiving at the parish that I grew up in.  I hope to pray it in the other parish in my home town,  If God's timing works out correctly, a brother seminarian from that parish can serve as my deacon for that Mass. I just got the quote back for refinishing that chalice, it was about 1/2 of what I expected.  God is Good, All the Time.

The family in Maine are reasonably stable.  Between my niece (God bless her) and hired home health care aids, somebody is in the condo with the family for at least two hours every day.  Eyes on is a good thing.  I hear of little issues, but I sleep better knowing that good people are checking up on my family.