Feast Day: October 22^nd | Patron of Popes, Families, Youth, Laborers, Actors, Athletes, Human Life, Poland, the Elderly, and those with Parkinson’s 

This week, I recall Pope John Paul II’s famous words at his homily during the Mass for the inauguration of his pontificate (by the way, isn’t it awesome that so many of the substantial moments of our Catholic life are situated within the Holy Mass!  Tells us something about where the Church draws its strength and center.):

The new Successor of Peter in the See of Rome, today makes a fervent, humble and trusting prayer: Christ, make me become and remain the servant of your unique power, the servant of your sweet power, the servant of your power that knows no eventide. Make me be a servant. Indeed, the servant of your servants. Brothers and sisters, do not be afraid to welcome Christ and accept his power. Help the Pope and all those who wish to serve Christ and with Christ’s power to serve the human person and the whole of mankind. Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors for Christ. To his saving power open the boundaries of States, economic and political systems, the vast fields of culture, civilization and development. Do not be afraid. Christ knows “what is in man”. He alone knows it.

And now an explanation JPII gave of these words in Crossing the Threshold of Hope:

When on October 22, 1978, I said the words “Be not afraid!” in St. Peter’s Square, I could not fully know how far they would take me and the entire Church. Their meaning came more from the Holy Spirit, the Consoler promised by the Lord Jesus to His disciples, than from the man who spoke them. Nevertheless, with the passing of the years, I have recalled these words on many occasions. The exhortation “Be not afraid!” should be interpreted as having a very broad meaning. In a certain sense it was an exhortation addressed to all people, an exhortation to conquer fear in the present world situation, as much in the East as in the West, as much in the North as in the South. Have no fear of that which you yourselves have created, have no fear of all that man has produced, and that every day is becoming more dangerous for him! Finally, have no fear of yourselves! 

Why should we have no fear? Because man has been redeemed by God. When pronouncing these words in St. Peter’s Square, I already knew that my first encyclical and my entire papacy would be tied to the truth of the Redemption. In the Redemption we find the most profound basis for the words “Be not afraid!”: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (cf. Jn 3:16). This Son is always present in the history of humanity as Redeemer. The Redemption pervades all of human history, even before Christ, and prepares its eschatological future. It is the light that “shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (cf. Jn 1:5). The power of Christ’s Cross and Resurrection is greater than any evil which man could or should fear.

Finally, I leave all of us with the reflection John Paul II had prepared for Divine Mercy Sunday of 2005, though he died on the eve of that feast, (with his final words being the whispered prayer: “let me go to the house of the Father”) and so this, his final message, was given after the Mass said for the repose of his soul:

Dear Brothers and Sisters! The joyful Easter Alleluia resounds also today. Today’s Gospel page of St. John underlines that the Risen One, on the night of that day, appeared to the Apostles and “showed them his hands and his side” (John 20:20), that is, the signs of the painful Passion printed indelibly on his body also after his Resurrection. Those glorious wounds, which eight days later he made the incredulous Thomas touch, reveal the mercy of God “for God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16). This mystery of love is at the heart of today’s liturgy, Sunday “in Albis,” dedicated to the worship of Divine Mercy. To humanity, which at times seems to be lost and dominated by the power of evil, egoism and fear, the risen Lord offers as a gift his love that forgives, reconciles and reopens the spirit to hope. It is love that converts hearts and gives peace. How much need the world has to understand and accept Divine Mercy! Lord, who with [your] Death and Resurrection reveal the love of the Father, we believe in you and with confidence repeat to you today: Jesus, I trust in you, have mercy on us and on the whole world.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has found these simple words “Jesus, I trust in You” to be perhaps the most potent prayer he can say. No matter what is happening – a fear or worry, a suffering or loss, a sleepless night or lengthy marathon, in Adoration, on Amtrak, in my office … – every single one of those moments is clarified, sanctified, and filled with peace simply by surrendering it to Jesus with that phrase: “Jesus, I trust in You.”

Over the next few weeks, you will be receiving information about our annual Season of Stewardship.  Perhaps you are asking – What is that?  Don’t worry too much if that term sounds new to you, as it is only really two years old, which in Church time, might as well be brand new!

Defined simply, Season of Stewardship is the opportunity for each parish household to pray and discern their commitment to stewardship as a way of life.  Although I cannot read minds, I am fairly confident that as you see that word “stewardship”, many of you are thinking that this is about asking for money.  If I could humbly, yet firmly push back on that, I would say that if that is what you are thinking, then your understanding of stewardship is unfortunately limited.  But thanks be to God that you are reading this to understand more clearly what stewardship is in reality!

One of the best definitions I have ever heard on stewardship comes from the Diocese of Wichita, and they define it succinctly:  Stewardship is the “grateful response of a Christian Disciple who recognizes and receives God’s gifts and shares these gifts in love of God and neighbor.”  Notice the first word in this definition – grateful.  Gratitude to God for the gifts that He has given to us must be the beginning of any discussion about stewardship.  Every gift that we have in our lives is just that, a gift.  A gift that has been received, not one that we own.  This is where we as Christians should be different from the rest of society.  It is easy to see that what we have – our time, our talents, our bodies, our possessions, our career, our money – is something we have earned, something that we deserve, something that we own.  And while it is true that we may have worked hard to achieve and acquire things, all is a gift from God.  If it were not for God’s grace and His willing us into existence, we would not have any of what we have.  As Christians, perhaps we know this is what we should believe, but do we really believe that?  Perhaps we should make that prayer of the Apostles from the Gospel a few weeks ago: “Increase our faith!” (Lk 17:5)

In the brief definition of Season of Stewardship that I give above, I say that this is an opportunity for all of us to pray and discern our commitment to our parish.  It is not accidental that we start with prayer.  And the beginning of that prayer is what I just mentioned – gratitude.  So for now, I am not going to say anything more about discerning what your stewardship to our parish might look like.  I simply want you to start with prayer – specifically the prayer of gratitude.  Spend some time personally praying about the gifts that are in your life.  Write them down if it helps.  As you reflect on those gifts, thank God specifically for each item.  Maybe keep that list for the next couple of weeks and go back to it every day or two, repeating the process of thanking God for each gift, adding new gifts as you become aware of them.

As an added challenge if you are willing to accept it, pay careful attention to each time you use words such as “my” or “mine” and consider, at least in your mind replacing that with “God’s”.  Whether it’s “my day”, “my time”, “my schedule”, “my plan”, “my money”, or “my life.”  When we see these things not as mine, but God’s, it might cause us to consider them differently.  Perhaps it will make us feel uncomfortable initially, but staying with that thought, it can open the door to an awareness of how all of those things we consider “mine” are in fact gifts from Him, gifts for which we can and should give Him thanks, for as we say at each Mass, to give Him thanks is “right and just.”

Father Alford

Feast Day: October 22^nd | Patron of Popes, Families, Youth, Laborers, Actors, Athletes, Human Life, Poland, the Elderly, and those with Parkinson’s 

This week, St. Pope John Paul II on finding the Holy Father wanted him to become a bishop, from Rise, Let us be on Our Way:

The year is 1958. I’m on a train traveling toward Olsztyn with my group of canoeists. We are beginning the vacation schedule that we have been following since 1953: part of the vacation we are to spend in the mountains, most often in the Bieszczady mountains, and part on the lakes in the Masuria region. Our destination is the Łyna River. That’s why—it is July—we are on the train bound for Olsztyn. I say to our so-called admiral— as far as I can remember at that time it was Zdzisław Heydel: “Zdzisław, I’m going to have to leave the canoe because I have been summoned by the Primate [since the death of Cardinal August Hlond in 1948, Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński was the Primate] and I must go to see him.” The admiral said: “That’s fine, I’ll see to it.” And so, when the time came, we left the group to go to the nearest railroad station, at Olsztynek. 

Knowing that I would have to see the Primate during our time on the Łyna River, I had deliberately left my good cassock with friends in Warsaw. It wouldn’t be right to visit the Primate wearing the old cassock I brought along on our canoe trips (on such trips I always brought a cassock and a complete set of vestments so that I could celebrate Mass). So I set off, first in the canoe over the waves of the river, and then in a truck laden with sacks of flour, until I got to Olsztynek. The train for Warsaw left late at night. I had brought my sleeping bag with me, thinking that I might be able to catch a few winks in the station and ask someone to wake me when it was time to board the train. There was no need for that in any event, because I didn’t sleep. 

In Warsaw I arrived on Miodowa Street at the specified hour. … As I entered the office of the Primate, he told me that the Holy Father had named me an auxiliary bishop to the archbishop of Kraków. In February of that same year (1958) Bishop Stanisław Rospond had died. He had been auxiliary bishop of Kraków for many years during the reign of the prince archbishop of Kraków, Cardinal Adam Sapieha. Upon hearing the words of the Primate informing me of the decision of the Holy See, I said, “Your Eminence, I am too young; I’m only thirty-eight.” But the Primate said, “That is a weakness which can soon be remedied. Please do not oppose the will of the Holy Father.” So I said, “I accept.” “Then let’s have lunch,” the Primate concluded. …

At the conclusion of this audience, of such great importance for my life, I realized that I could not return immediately to my canoeing friends: first I had to go to Kraków to inform Archbishop Eugeniusz Baziak, my Ordinary. While waiting for the night train to Kraków, I spent many hours in prayer at the chapel of the Ursuline Sisters in Warsaw on Wiślana Street. … The next day I went to see Archbishop Eugeniusz Baziak at 3 Franciszkańska Street and handed him a letter from the Cardinal Primate. I remember it as if it were today. The Archbishop took me by the arm and led me into the waiting room where there were priests sitting, and he said: “Habemus papam”—“We have a Pope.” In the light of subsequent events, one might say that these words were prophetic. When I said to the Archbishop that I would like to return to Masuria to join my friends who were canoeing on the Łyna River, he answered: “I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Somewhat troubled by this reply, I went to the Church of the Franciscans and prayed the Way of the Cross. I often went there for this purpose because the stations are original, modern, painted by Józef Mehoffer. Then I went back to Archbishop Baziak renewing my request. I said, “I appreciate your concern, Excellency, but I would still ask you to allow me to return to Masuria.” This time he answered: “Yes, yes, by all means. But I ask you, please,” he added with a smile, “come back in time for the consecration.” 

So that very evening I again boarded the train for Olsztyn. I had with me Hemingway’s book The Old Man and the Sea. I read it all night. Once I dozed off. I felt somewhat strange . . . When I arrived at Olsztyn, my group was already there. They had canoed down the Łyna River. The admiral came for me to the station and said, “So, did Uncle become a bishop?” To this I said yes. He said: “That is exactly what I imagined in my heart, and what I wished for you.” As a matter of fact, shortly beforehand, on the occasion of my tenth anniversary of ordination, he had wished me this. When I was named a bishop, I was hardly twelve years a priest. 

I had slept little. When I reached my destination, I was tired. First, however, before going to rest, I went to church to celebrate Mass. The church was under the care of the university chaplain, Father Ignacy Tokarczuk, who was later named a bishop. After a short rest, I awoke and realized that the news had already spread, because Father Tokarczuk said to me: “Oh, the new bishop. Congratulations.” I smiled and went to join my canoeing friends. When I took the paddle, I again felt somewhat strange. The coincidence of dates struck me: The date of my nomination was July fourth, the anniversary date of the blessing of Wawel Cathedral. It is an anniversary that I have always cherished in my heart. I thought this coincidence must have some special meaning. I also thought maybe this was the last time I could go canoeing. Later though, I should mention, it turned out that there were many opportunities for me to go swimming and canoeing on the rivers and lakes of Masuria. As a matter of fact, I continued until the year 1978. 

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has also found that some of the most beautiful moments of his priesthood have happened outside: spontaneous requests for confession, Masses in rugged “cathedrals” of trees and rocks and sunshine, conversations while hiking or running, sublime prayer next to streams or lakes.

Having recently returned from the retreat of which I have written in the past two weeks, I have been slowly unpacking the various graces that the Lord shared with me during that time, graces which I know were not just for me, but for the people I am blessed to serve as a priest.  I would like to share one particular grace that I think applies to our reflections on the topic of prayer.

As I began retreat, I could sense the Lord was trying to invite me to a central focus during my time with Him.  In previous retreats, I would often pray about my identity as a priest, the various duties that I carry out as a priest, and how to infuse those activities with a greater love for God and zeal for the souls of the people under my care.  To be sure, those have been very fruitful reflections.  But on this retreat, I got the very clear message from the Lord: “This retreat is not primarily about your becoming a better priest.  First and foremost, it is about become a better friend to me.”  That thought resonated so well in my soul, and I found great consolation and peace, for the Lord was helping me realize that if my friendship with Him was strong, it would yield a more fruitful ministry in service to His people.  I therefore kept going back to the words of Jesus to His Apostles: “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.” (Jn 15:15)

One of the great saints of the Church who has left us with a wealth of wisdom on prayer is the Spanish Carmelite St. Teresa of Avila.  When describing prayer, she wrote simply, yet powerfully: “For mental prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us.” (The Book of Her Life, ch. 8, 5)  How lovely of an image that is for us to think about when we go to prayer!  Is that how we see Him when we pray?  Sometimes we might see Him like our boss, and our prayer consists in our asking what tasks He wants us to accomplish for the day.  Perhaps we see Him as our personal assistant, telling Him the tasks that we want Him to accomplish for the day.  The Lord desires for us to see our time of prayer as a time spent with a friend – not just any friend, but the very best of friends, the one who knows us best, and the one who loves us best.

Seeing prayer as a time of sharing between friends does not conflict with our also approaching Him as our Father.  After all, when teaching His disciples to pray, He invites us to address our prayer to Him beginning with these words: “Our Father.”  I have no problem calling my earthly father a friend, nor should I fear calling the Lord both Father and friend.  

I invite all of us to spend some time this week reflecting on those words of Jesus that I quoted above: “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.” (Jn 15:15) Although God is all-powerful and mighty, and we owe Him our service for all that He has done for us, He has also drawn very close to us through His Son Jesus, who makes it possible for us to live in an intimate relationship of friendship.

Father Alford

This past Tuesday, the Church celebrated the feast day of Pope John XXIII, who is best known as the pope who called for the Second Vatican Council. The Council was a great movement of the Holy Spirit in which the Church was impelled by God to communicate the truth of the Gospel ever more clearly to the modern world. It would be good for every engaged Catholic to be familiar with the texts of the Council. Pope Benedict XVI and Pope John Paul II, as much younger men, were both major contributors to the text of the Council documents, and their papacies helped the Church interpret the meaning of the documents. I have included below some selections of the speech that good Pope John gave when the Council was opened. 

The major interest of the Ecumenical Council is this: that the sacred heritage of Christian truth be safeguarded and expounded with greater efficacy.

That doctrine embraces the whole man, body and soul. It bids us live as pilgrims here on earth, as we journey onwards towards our heavenly homeland.

The great desire, therefore, of the Catholic Church in raising aloft at this Council the torch of truth, is to show herself to the world as the loving mother of all mankind; gentle, patient, and full of tenderness and sympathy for her separated children. To the human race oppressed by so many difficulties, she says what Peter once said to the poor man who begged an alms: “Silver and gold I have none; but what I have, that I give thee. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, arise and walk.” In other words it is not corruptible wealth, nor the promise of earthly happiness, that the Church offers the world today, but the gifts of divine grace which, since they raise men up to the dignity of being sons of God, are powerful assistance and support for the living of a more fully human life. She unseals the fountains of her life-giving doctrine, so that men, illumined by the light of Christ, will understand their true nature and dignity and purpose. Everywhere, through her children, she extends the frontiers of Christian love, the most powerful means of eradicating the seeds of discord, the most effective means of promoting concord, peace with justice, and universal brotherhood.

It is therefore an overwhelming source of grief to us to know that, although Christ’s blood has redeemed every man that is born into this world, there is still a great part of the human race that does not share in those sources of supernatural grace, which exist in the Catholic Church. And yet the Church sheds her light everywhere. The power that is hers by reason of her supernatural unity redounds to the advantage of the whole family of men. She amply justifies those magnificent words of St. Cyprian: “The Church, radiant with the light of her Lord, sheds her rays over all the world, and that light of hers remains one, though everywhere diffused; her corporate unity is not divided. She spreads her luxuriant branches over all the earth; she sends out her fair-flowing streams ever farther afield. But the head is one; the source is one. She is the one mother of countless generations. And we are her children, born of her, fed with her milk, animated with her breath.” ¹¹

Thus, venerable brethren in the episcopate, “our heart is wide open to you.” Here we are assembled in this Vatican Basilica at a turning-point in the history of the Church; here at this meeting-place of earth and heaven, by St. Peter’s tomb and the tomb of so many of Our predecessors, whose ashes in this solemn hour seem to thrill in mystic exultation.

Given October 11, 1962 by Pope John XXIII in St. Peter’s Basilica 

Text taken from catholicculture.org

Feast Day: October 22^nd | Patron of Popes, Families, Youth, Laborers, Actors, Athletes, Human Life, Poland, the Elderly, and those with Parkinson’s 

For the next few weeks, I’d like to introduce you to one of my favorite saint-friends: Pope John Paul II. He was one of the inspirations for my own call to the priesthood, and getting to spend 5 years living just a few minute walk to his tomb, and then to get to do additional studies at the Institute founded by him for the study of God’s Love manifested by Holy Matrimony and in family life … boy, it was an amazing gift! I would love to write so much more about his life, his papacy, his writings, and his sanctity, but I think you’d be given a better glimpse into his heart by reading his own words, so these next weeks will be taken entirely from his own reflections. First, from Gift and Mystery, about his first discovering within his heart his vocation to become a priest as a young man (some edits of my own in the following text to make for easier reading than the original clunky translation):

My preparation for the priesthood, which was finished in the seminary, had somehow been preceded by that given me in the life and example of my parents in our family. My gratitude goes especially to my father, who became a widower early. I had not yet made my First Communion when I lost my mother: I was just nine years old. I have not a clear awareness of the contribution that she gave to my religious education, though it was certainly great. After her death and, later, after the death of my brother, I was left alone with my father who was a deeply religious man. I was especially impacted by the austerity of his daily life. By profession he was a military man, and when he became a widower, his life became a constant prayer. I would wake up at night and find my father on his knees, as was always his practice in our parish church as well. Between us there was no talk of a vocation to the priesthood, but his example was for me in some way my first seminary, a kind of domestic seminary.

Later, after the years of my early youth, my seminary became the quarry and the water treatment plant in the baking factory in Borek Falecki. And it was no longer only a pre-seminary, as in Wadowice [my hometown]. The factory was for me, at that stage of life, a real seminary, although illegal. I began working in the quarry in September 1940 after a year spent at the water treatment plant in the factory. It was during these years that I came to my final decision [to follow God’s call the become a priest], and in the fall of 1942, while still working at Solvay, I, a former student of Polish Philology, undertook to enter into clandestine seminary studies. I did not realize then the importance that this would have for me. Only later, as a priest, during my studies in Rome, would I encounter through my brother-priests in the Belgian College the situation of worker-priests and the movement of the Young Catholic Workers (JOC). I realized then that, what had become so important for the Church and for the priesthood in the West – true contact with the world of labor, I already had in my own life experience.

In truth, my experience was not as a “worker-priest” but a “worker-seminarian”. Laboring by hand, I knew what it meant to endure physical fatigue. Every day I met with people who worked hard. I got to know the environment of these people, their families, their interests, their human value and dignity. Personally I experienced a lot of cordiality on their part. They knew I was a student and they also knew that, as soon as circumstances would permit, I would return to [full time] studies. I never met hostility for this reason. They did not give me trouble when I brought books to work; rather, they said: “We’ll watch out for you; you read well.” This happened especially during night shifts. Often they said: “Get some rest, we’ll watch out.”

I made friends with many workers. Sometimes they invited me to their house. Later, as a priest and bishop, I baptized their children and grandchildren, blessed marriages and officiated at many of their funerals. I also had occasion to note how many were hiding their religious feelings and profound wisdom of life. These contacts, as I mentioned, remained very close even when the German occupation ended and continued almost up to my election as Bishop of Rome. Some of them continue still in the form of correspondence.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has to go out of his way to reach the end of the day bone-tired from plain hard work. Neither hard exercise, though tiring, nor the work that good prayer, liturgy, and preaching does require, results in the same tangible tiredness that breaking rocks or trudging to physical-work demands. Yet, I think that all of us know that some lessons can only be learned during a hard day working outside. Certain prayers are only drawn out of us, and strength built up in us, and quiet instilled within us from honest, physical, outdoor, labor. I need to find time for it more often!