St. Damien of Molokai

In 1864, a man who was born in Belgium by the name of Joseph De Veuster, the seventh child of a corn merchant, took the name Damien when he joined the Sacred Heart Fathers. In 1864, he was sent to Hawaii and was, subsequently, ordained a priest.

While he was there, given the frequency of traders and sailors, many new diseases and ailments were brought to the island, so that many were afflicted with the flu, syphilis and leprosy. However, since it was believed that leprosy was contagious and incurable all lepers were quarantined to an island on Molokai. Over 8,000 people, believed to have been inflicted with leprosy, were sent to the tiny island.

When Bishop Louis, the vicar apostolic heard of this he felt that the lepers needed a priest to minister to their needs, yet, he also realized that this assignment could potentially be a death sentence, and, therefore, did not want to send anyone  "in the name of obedience". Eventually, four priests, volunteered, among them, was Father Damien.

On May 10, 1873, when Father Damien arrived, the Bishop introduced him to 816 lepers. Fr. Damien, immediately, built a church, establishing the Parish of Saint Philomena. He ministered as a priest, dressed ulcers, built homes and beds, built coffins and dug graves. Six months after his arrival, he wrote to his brother in Europe: “...I make myself a leper with the lepers to gain all to Jesus Christ.”

In 1884, Fr. Damien, it is said, inadvertently put his foot in scalding water but felt nothing, it was then when he realized he, too, had contracted leprosy. Yet, in spite of this, he continued to build hospitals, clinics, churches and coffins until he could do no more.

On March 23, 1889, he was bedridden and between March 30 and April 2^nd, knowing his time was near, he received the sacraments and renewed his vows. On April 15, 1889, at the young age of 49 he died of leprosy. The next day, after the funeral Mass at St. Philomena, the whole village processed to the cemetery where Fr. Damien was laid to rest under the same tree where he first slept when he arrived at Molokai.

In 1995, he was beatified by Pope John Paul II and on October 11, 2009, he was canonized a saint by Pope Benedict XVI.

St. Damien’s life was a perfect example of our Gospel today, for his life was a life dictated by love, for His love of God motivated and strengthened him to work among the lepers and those in most need. And, the greatest source of that love was the Most Holy Eucharist, for as he says:

“Without the constant presence of our Divine Master upon the altar in my poor chapels, I never could have persevered casting my lot with the lepers of Molokai; the foreseen consequence of which begins now to appear on my skin, and is felt throughout the body. Holy Communion being the daily bread of a priest, I feel myself happy, well pleased, and resigned in the rather exceptional circumstances in which it has pleased Divine Providence to put me.”

For, his joy truly was in Christ and, as a result, his joy was complete. Therefore, let us ask the intercession of St. Damien today, that we, too, may have his same level of dedication and his same depth of devotion.

St. Damien of Molokai, patron of lepers, pray for us!

3rd Tuesday of Lent (Forgiveness, Cycle B)

In order for us to be forgiven we must always and constantly be willing and able to forgive, not once, not twice, not three times, but seventy times seven, which, in biblical terms, is indefinitely.

And, to do so for no other reason than the fact that we, if we are honest, are never in a position to withhold something that was freely given to all of us. In fact, St. Ambrose said: “For when the Lord forgave all sins, He made an exception of none,” which is why we, too, must do the same.

It is never easy, never ideal, and probably one of the most difficult things that we are ever asked to do because, truth be told, it is easier to have the “upper hand,” it is easier to hold on to the anger, the hurt, and to ignore the situation altogether.

But God demands more of us than that, He demands that we be more and more like Him, and we cannot do that if we are unwilling to do what He did for us, if we are unwilling to extend forgiveness despite our desires, perhaps, to bring down condemnation upon those whom we feel deserve it most.

Yet, it all comes down to a simple fact, one we must always remind ourselves of, that, we too, are capable of the same exact thing, that, we too, could have done or said the same thing.

Just because we didn’t does not mean that we are better, it just means we succeeded where another failed, but, we too, are able to fail where others have succeeded as well, which is why we should be people of mercy, constantly and always ready to extend forgiveness, despite every inclination to the contrary.

Yet, if you ever needed a better reason than that just spend some time in front of a crucifix. St. Faustina explains it beautifully, she says: “He who knows how to forgive prepares for himself many graces from God. As often as I look upon the cross, she says, so often will I forgive with all my heart.”

And that is the point, because as hard as it is, we really, in the end, have no right to withhold forgiveness when Christ hung upon a cross for us, in order to bring mercy, redemption and, indeed, forgiveness to all.

Ash Wednesday, Cycle B

Today, we begin our definitive journey into Lent, tracing, as we do, an ashen cross upon our foreheads, a symbol that hearkens back to the days of the Bible indicating penance, mourning and even our own mortality.

It is a symbol and a sign of who we are, what we believe, and why we do what we do, because it is more than just ashes upon our head, it is more than a cross for a day, it is a witness, greater than any other witness we can give, because it is a visible sign that, indeed, we are Christians, that, indeed we do believe.

Yet, that sign is of very little significance, without this recognition, or if we merely trace a cross upon our foreheads without partaking in the true mysteries that Lent places before us, the true mysteries that can be found in the sacraments, most especially in the sacrament of reconciliation and the Most Holy Eucharist.

For, in the Eucharist is found the source, summit and center of our lives as Catholics, because in the Eucharist we not only live what we profess but we, literally, receive the life, death and Resurrection of Christ.

In the sacrament of reconciliation, too, we are transformed by grace, covered by mercy and absolved of our sins.

That is why the ashen cross upon our foreheads does not disappear when it is washed away, because the true mystery of the Cross, the true mystery of the Passion, death and Resurrection of Christ is contained in the Eucharist, contained in our confession, so that it goes much further than a temporary symbol, much further than something we experience for a day.

When we bless the ashes, we mingle it with water so that it sticks for a time, but when we receive the Eucharist it does not just mingle with our own body and blood for a time, no, it becomes a part of us, it becomes what that ashen cross represents, Christ truly living within us. It becomes a living sign of our repentance, of our constant desire to repent and believe in the Gospel.

For within those sacraments is the same Christ who fled to the desert, was tempted, beaten, crucified, and rose again, the same Christ that can make us stronger, the same Christ that will lead us into this Lent and the same Christ whom all of us, in a short time, should, if we are able, receive.

Lent points us to something deeper, something much more profound in our lives and in our world than a mere cross upon our foreheads, then a mere piece of palm on our wall, it points to the fundamental mysteries and pinnacle of our lives as Catholics.

It is why we can be absolved of our sins, it is why with death comes Resurrection, it is why we are baptized, it is why we can receive the Eucharist.

For, Lent centers upon the very foundations of who we are as Catholics, indeed, why we do what we do, and why it matters. That is why we should be here, that is why we should continue to come, because Christ is calling each and every one of us to a greater more profound relationship with Him.

He is calling us forth to enter into this season of Lent and to make it what it is, a season of prayer, of penance, of fasting and almsgiving with the ultimate end, as in our Eucharist, as in our reconciliation, of new life, eternal life in Him.

Monday of 7th Week in Ordinary Time, Cycle B (Faith and Unbelief)

Faith is a very interesting virtue, because with it we can believe the most extraordinary and the most amazing things, and yet, at the same time, have doubts or questions or not believe as much as we think, so that we find ourselves both believing and not believing at the same time. Or, in those beautiful words expressed by a father who son was just healed: “I believe, help my unbelief.”

And, if we think about it and if we are honest with ourselves, this is the way we spend most of our lives, this is way our relationship with God exists, by living a seeming contradiction of belief and unbelief, of trust and distrust, of fear and strength, because we have a relationship with someone whom we both know intimately and, at the same time, can seem like a stranger to us, it is both a unique and a familiar relationship that does not or cannot exist with anyone else.

Yet, as strange at that may sound, this is faith, this is the way we know God, because that is who God is, He is a mystery and He is our love, He is distant and He is near us, He is bigger than the universe and small enough to become a tiny host that fits in our hands and dwells in our bodies, in order to touch our hearts and transform our souls.

With this same faith, we come to know, we come to believe and we come to love He whom we cannot see, so that miracles like those in our Gospel become not a measure of our belief but an affirmation of what we have always known. We may not always know it as much as we would like, we may not always be able to believe it to the extent of a saint, but if we have even a mustard seed of it, bread will become the Eucharist, wine will become blood, and when we are tempted to unbelief we will still then be able to believe.

Because, as Jesus reminds, as long as we are men and women of prayer, as long as our faith contains the desire to believe even in our unbelief, then, in the words of Jesus: “If you can!' Everything is possible to one who has faith.” Not one thing, not nothing, but everything and all it takes is faith, all it takes is the confidence to know that God can do it and He will.

Thursday of the 5th Week in Ordinary Time, Cycle B (Scraps for Dogs)

In our Gospel today, Jesus is reluctant to heal the woman’s daughter and even, in so many words, calls her a dog. Yet, instead of being deterred, offended or anything else, she recognizes who she is before God and, instead, humbles herself only to make the request again. And Jesus is so impressed with her faith that He immediately heals her daughter.

For, while Jesus could have done it without such an exchange, as with any miracle He performs, He wanted to know and see the level of faith that existed in this woman, to see how firmly and strongly she believed.

And, by her persistence, her perseverance and her humility she demonstrates the power of faith and how no obstacle should stand in our way when we have such faith. To know, believe and live with the conviction that our personal unworthiness matters very little and that all we need is a sliver of faith and the humility to know that if He is willing, God can do anything, including bringing healing in spite of His reluctance.

That is why, in the words of St. Josemaria Escriva with whom I leave you with this morning: “Do not be discouraged. However unworthy a person is, however imperfect his prayer turns out to be, if it is offered with humility and perseverance, God always hears it.”

Faith and Healing, Cycle B

 I once read somewhere that “faith isn’t faith until it is all you are holding on to.” Because faith not only allows us to believe without seeing but to know the extraordinary and to live it as if ordinary, so that, in essence, it becomes more than how we believe and, instead, becomes the way we live our lives.

That is why faith is so important in our relationship with God and why faith as tiny and miniscule as a mustard seed has so much potential and so much power to do amazing and almighty things.

It is also why, that without it, life becomes different and miracles become difficult if not impossible. In fact, when Jesus returns to the town that is native to Him, a place that one would think thousands would believe, it is just the opposite, barely anyone believes, barely anyone has faith.

That was why Jesus could not perform as many miracles, not because He wasn’t powerful enough, but because any healing depends upon the person being healed and if their faith is lacking so is their openness to what God can do in their lives.

Faith is much more powerful than merely believing the impossible, it is knowing that the impossible is, indeed, possible, knowing that with God all things are possible.

That is why faith or lack thereof has so many consequences and why the saints were able to live they way they did, the way Mother Teresa could get up every morning in spite of not even knowing if God existed.

The reason St. Pio, after being distracted by a woman making a disruption during Mass only had to say “enough of this” and elevate the Eucharist for her to sit quietly the rest of Mass. The reason St. Francis could not only go near, but embrace the lepers he hated so much. The reason any saint could do anything they did was because their faith was so strong.

Because faith puts us squarely in the hands of God and we are given to completely trust in Him, knowing that while not the only thing needed it is an essential virtue that helps us to embrace the fullness of what we believe, what we know and what we need in order to allow God to do and to perform mighty deeds through us.

Mustard Seed and 19th Anniversary of My Father's Death, Cycle B

In today’s Gospel, Jesus compares the kingdom of God to a tiny mustard seed, saying that from this tiniest of seeds a great kingdom can emerge. Now, I don’t know about you, but, personally, I find it difficult to think solely about the mustard seed without also thinking about what Jesus said elsewhere, that we need only have faith as tiny as that in order to do extraordinary things.

And, as strange as this may sound, I think we are to see the relation of both, because just as our understanding of the kingdom starts small and grows so too does our faith begin just as small and grow as well. And, the amazing thing about it is as one grows the other does as well, because faith is how the kingdom can come into our midst, it is how we not just recognize it but bring it into the world.

Faith allows us to look beyond ourselves, in fact, it demands it, so that what we see is not what is impossible but possible, despite anything to the contrary. And, it helps us to put things in perspective, especially in light of those things that don’t make sense, especially, in light of the very mystery of the cross itself.

In fact, today marks the anniversary of 19 years when my father died, when he was shot and killed at work, something that drastically changes and alters your entire perception of faith, of what it means to see the Kingdom of God in life. For, not only did I lose my father but not two weeks before, I had my second open-heart surgery and third pacemaker surgery.

Yet, it was only when, after trying to give up my faith, that I realized what I lost, and in embracing my faith was not necessarily able to understand but able to see it as an opportunity to learn. To see the Cross in a new light and to bear its weight with a different type of strength, not in the sense that I’ll do it because I have to, but, rather, I will do it because this is the path of survival, this is the path of undying strength, this is the path of the Kingdom, this is the path of faith.

And, all it takes is a tiny mustard seed, the ability to look upon the world differently, to allow it to grow, flourish and become a towering tree. For, while the cross may seem to crush us, it also becomes our strength.

In fact, it was at the foot of the Cross where my vocation flourished, because after my father died when things got really bad, I would find myself in front of a crucifix, which was in this little wooden post, at the edge of the parking lot, at the Church I attended. I would frequently come to this crucifix, and pour myself out, crying and yelling and just saying everything I could.

And, eventually I came to realize that this was how Christ illuminated my life because His cross became a beacon to which I was constantly drawn, and in the greatest darkness, in seeming blindness, in what felt as an absence of faith, I found Him.

Because, ultimately, it is our faith that will always sustain us, it is our faith that will help us to see the Kingdom, it is our faith that puts our world in perspective. For, as St. Josemaria Escriva puts it, with whom I leave you with today: “The day we practice this virtue (faith), trusting in God and in his Mother, we will be daring and loyal. God, who is the same God as ever, will work miracles through our hands.” Bringing to us, in the end, in our midst, the greatest miracles of all, understanding, forgiveness and healing.