Let Us Walk by Faith

Among the classic spiritual books in Catholic life is St. Francis DeSales’ “Introduction to the Devout Life.” It’s a beautiful little book written in the 1600’s. At a time when most “spiritual” books were written to help priests or religious brothers or sisters, DeSales wrote specifically for the laity. It’s been some years since I last read it (I’ve read it numerous times), but I’ve always found it helpful in its simplicity and depth. I think of that book today as we approach the end of the Church’s liturgical year. In these weeks, in case you haven’t noticed, the readings and parables emphasize the end times and our approaching judgment. While these are topics that we might like to set aside for another day, each year the Church turns our attention toward them. St. Francis DeSales–among others–can assist us in focusing our attention. At the end of his Introduction to the Devout Life, DeSales provides various meditations to help the reader grow. Among these meditations are some on, what we call, “the last things;” namely, death, judgment, hell, and heaven. We tend to eschew such topics because they make us uncomfortable. Meditating upon them occasionally, however, can be salutary. They invite us to confront reality and to prepare for those things that will come to us like a thief in the night. Death: In this meditation, we consider that we are, in fact, going to die. We think about how we do not know when that will happen. We do not know how it will happen. In this meditation, perhaps we imagine that some day we will lie upon our deathbed. At that moment, we will see the emptiness of the earthly vanities in which we had placed so much hope. Our wealth will be left behind. The honors and accolades which we sought will turn to dust. In that moment, will we be able to say that we spent our time on earth well or will we be filled with regret for how we squandered our time with the pursuit of selfish desires, vanities, pleasures, and power? This meditation helps to spur us on to use whatever time we have left well. We all know in some vague theoretical way that we are going to die. Yet, we can tend to live in such a way that imagines the world will not continue without us. It is worth considering that some day, as we lay upon our bed dying, the world will continue without us. We remember that immediately after our death, we will stand before Christ and be judged. Such a meditation is not intended to depress us, but rather to make us live in a truer and purer manner. This meditation helps to spur us on to use whatever time we have left well. Judgment: In this meditation, we consider how, after the Resurrection of the Dead, the Final Judgment will take place. In this moment, all of humanity will stand before Christ and every secret thought, neglected holy inspiration, and unrepented sin will be laid bare before all. In this mediation, we imagine the finality of things wherein Jesus separates all of us like the sheep and the goats. The judgment will be definitive. We try to stir up in ourselves the sentiments that we might feel on that dreadful day so that we can promptly repent today. On that day, we want to be numbered among the blessed, so we ask the Lord to stir up in us deep contrition and firm purpose of amending our life now. On the day of judgment, it will be too late. Now is the time. Hell: In this meditation, Francis invites us to imagine looking into Hell and to meditate upon what it would be like to be eternally separated from God because of unrepented sin. He invites us to consider the faces of the Lost and the darkness and emptiness of that grim world far from God. To see the sadness and hopelessness of the damned is intended to force us to ask ourselves if we are prepared to spend an eternity like that. The meditation is intended to wake us from any delusional misunderstanding of the gravity of mortal sin. Mortal sin is deadly to us. It separates us from God and, unrepented mortal sin will separate us from him eternally. This meditation–much like Ebenezer Scrooge seeing what lies ahead–is intended to shock us out of our spiritual complacency. Heaven: In this meditation, we consider–as best we can–what Paradise will be like. We imagine looking up and seeing the most beautiful of nights where we can see all of the stars with crystal clarity. At the same time, however, it is the most beautiful of summer days and the sun is shining and we are warmed by its warmth and joyful in its light. We see the great and uncountable multitude of saints and angels as they stand in total and complete wonder and friendship as they look directly upon God. They are filled with unspeakable sweetness and delight as they drink in the love beyond all telling, a love that never stops, a love that is beyond all that they could have hoped for or imagined. In meditating upon the glory of Paradise, we are meant to realize how trivial are the vanities that we often value above our own salvation. When we meditate upon the Blessed in Heaven and their absolute bliss, we are moved to reject definitively anything and everything that hinders us from one day enjoying eternal life. We see that nothing–absolutely nothing–is worth giving up our eternity. If there is any earthly attachment to which we cling that stands as an obstacle to us entering Paradise, Francis urges us to reject it immediately. Compared to Paradise, everything else is as nothing. Francis DeSales’s suggested meditations on these Last Things are, of course, intended to shake us up a bit; to wake us from any spiritual lethargy that may be dragging us away from God and towards Hell. He proposes these meditations, however, not to discourage us, but rather to encourage us. We each have today to change. We each have today to repent from sin. We each have today to choose to love God above everything else. We each have time today to choose Heaven. Will we? That is the question each of us must now decide. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

Many of the ancient Church fathers compare the work of the priest to that of a physician. It is why in Latin we have the term, “cura animarum,” meaning “the care of souls.” To have the care of souls means to have devotion to and solicitude and responsibility for the spiritual health of those entrusted to the priest. The English word, “cure” derives from this same word. This care for souls is not simply opening a book and giving the answer. It involves making judgments about the person in front of you. The Church fathers say that the priest must know how to provide the right amount of medicine at the right time to the right patient. St. John Chrysostom says that the medicine is the Word. At times, this Word is like a balm that soothes. At other times, the Word is like a surgeon removing a deadly tumor. Too little medicine can, at times, fail to bring the patient to health, making him spiritually listless. Alternatively, too much medicine can, at times, overwhelm the patient and cause him to decline from despair. The art is in knowing what dosage of medicine will help this patient at this particular moment. We all grow gradually in holiness and virtue. When the priest attempts to help the person in front of him, he keeps this in mind. It is better, for example, to give the medicine of encouragement and help this person to take one step forward than to apply a dosage that will crush him by causing him to despair. In the confessional, it is almost always the case that the patient himself desires to be cured. The very fact that he is there humbly confessing is itself an indication of a desire for spiritual health. There, the priest does his best to imitate the Divine Physician and to be a minister of healing. One obstacle to healing is the obstinate refusal to admit the need for healing. In other words, if someone adamantly rejects that they have any need for conversion, repentance, or healing, it is very difficult–if not impossible–for healing to occur. Let me provide a couple of random (made up!) examples to help. One person attends Mass only sporadically. She knows that missing Mass is a grave sin that prevents her from receiving the Eucharist. So, once every couple of months when she responds to the grace that the Lord is giving her, she comes to confession, humbly and sincerely begs the Lord for mercy and expresses her resolve to change this situation in her life, and then goes to Mass and receives the Eucharist. She is humble, repentant, and open to changing. Might she fail again? Yes, but she is trying to begin again. The other person goes to Mass every Sunday, donates regularly to church, and serves on numerous church committees. Last Sunday (again this is a made up example!) he was infuriated when the priest at Mass gave a homily in which the priest said that we are bound to forgive those who have injured us. The man admits that there are a few people for whom he has absolute hatred and, he thinks that nobody has the right to tell him that he cannot hate these individuals. He thinks the priest went over the line in suggesting that we are required to forgive others. Now, it would be one thing if that man came to confession and said, “I find it so difficult to forgive this person because of this. I sometimes think I’ve forgiven him, but then it comes back. I don’t even know if I really want to forgive him, but I know I’m supposed to.” Okay, this is someone trying to grow, to heal, and to follow the Lord. His heart is wounded, but not hardened. But, in this instance, his heart is hardened. He wants to be told that he does not need to change. He wants his hatred to be okayed and validated. He, in fact, is angry because the priest had the audacity to repeat the words of Jesus that we must forgive those who have wronged us. He thinks it is not him who needs to change, but rather Jesus and the Church. He will refuse to ever go to confession because the very suggestion that there is anything in his life that needs to be changed is an insult. His heart is hardened. Perhaps something we could all pray about this week: Is there something in my life that I know is contrary to the Commandments or to the teachings of Christ and His Church? What is my reaction when I hear that Commandment or teaching? Does it cause me to bristle and become angry and resentful? Or, does it cause me to feel crushed and overwhelmed? Does it cause me to desire to repent and to be healed? If it causes anger, resentment, and an obstinate refusal to repent, be careful. That is a hardened heart. (Even if the obstinate refusal merely comes in the form of blocking one’s ears and pretending that that particular Commandment or teaching does not apply to me.) If it causes you to feel crushed or overwhelmed, don’t be! The Gospel is good news, even when it requires difficult things for us. God wants to help you and so does the Church! If it causes you to want to repent and to be healed, blessed be God! All of us–whether we know or admit it–are afflicted with some spiritual malady or another. Christ, the Divine Physician, wants to treat us and restore us to full spiritual health. This takes time, humility, and grace. Let each one of us begin anew today. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

Each Sunday we profess our belief in “the Communion of Saints.” That communion exists in three different states or conditions. The one which we are most familiar with is the one that we are in. It is referred to either as the “Church Militant” or “the Pilgrim Church.” Militant because we are still in the midst of fighting the good fight, engaging in spiritual warfare. Pilgrim because we are still making our way. The Church Suffering or the Church Penitent are those who have concluded their earthly pilgrimage, but who still are in the process of being purified. These are the souls in Purgatory. Immediately after we die, each of us will receive, what is called, the particular judgement. This is where our eternity is determined. It is quite likely that those who have been granted a place in heaven might still need time to be purified. When we pray at Mass (or at anytime) for the dead, this is who we are praying for. Our prayers, penances, and sacrifices can assist them in this process. Our way of continuing to love them is to pray for them, especially by having Masses offered for them. The Church Triumphant are those who have won the victory. These are the saints in Heaven. They already experience eternal beatitude with God. They love us by praying for us, cheering us on, and by encouraging us. November begins with the Solemnity of All Saints; that is all of those who are now in Heaven. We know many of their names, but many we do not. They are the countless men, women and children who lived holy lives and who now look upon the Face of God for all eternity. We honor them today and they, in turn, pray for us. The rest of November (and especially November 2nd, All Souls Day) we pray for the souls in Purgatory. We do not simply remember them. We pray for them. We offer Masses for them, we do works of charity and make sacrifices in order to help them along the final leg of their journey. We should never stop praying for the dead. Praying for them is so important, that they are included in the Eucharistic Prayer of every Mass. I encourage you to come to Mass on All Souls Day and to pray for all of the dead. There are also certain indulgences available during the month of November. An Indulgence is really a gift from the Church. An indulgence is called “plenary” when it is for the complete remission of the temporal punishments due to sin. It is called “partial” when it is only for some portion of those punishments being remitted. I include information regarding obtaining an indulgence for the faithful departed elsewhere in the bulletin. It is an easy and beautiful way to continue loving and assisting our departed loved ones. Do something beautiful for our beloved dead this November! Some day, more than likely, you and I will be in Purgatory. I am sure that the loved ones whom we assisted with our prayers now, will return the favor from their place in Heaven! The bulletin cover this week is a reproduction of the 15th century painting by Fra Angelico: The Last Judgment. On the right is depicted those condemned to Hell. My reason for choosing this particular image, however, has to do with the left side of the painting. There we see those who have been summoned forth from the grave at the resurrection. They are in a beautiful, lush garden (reminding us of Paradise) and are performing a joyful dance as angels lead them upward to the gates of the New Jerusalem to join all of the Blessed in Heaven. While the right side of the painting serves as a cautionary warning to us, the left side encourages us by reminding us what is in store for those who die in holiness. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

As I often mention, on the cover of our bulletin each week are the words, “Beauty, Goodness, Truth, and Friendship in Christ.” These words arise from both experience and from aspiration. They are something that is already present for the follower of Christ and they remain something for which we continuously long to encounter with greater intensity. The Christian people become a sign of these realities and help one another to enter into the mysteries in a deeper way. The Funeral Mass last week for my Dad was such a profound consolation to me and to my family. In that Mass, I experienced beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship in Christ. For Christians, funerals are not intended to explain away grief, to provide quick and meaningless resolutions, or to offer platitudes. Instead, I think the Funeral Mass affords us the opportunity to enter into the mystery of life and death in a more profound way. When we try to skip over the mystery in order to get to a “solution,” it deprives us of something essential. During these past weeks, what has sustained and strengthened me was encountering so much beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship in Christ. The palpable presence of these realities did not explain away death and sorrow, but surrounded it in love and made clear that love is stronger than death. I am profoundly grateful to the clergy and staff of St. Patrick Parish whose goodness and charity made these weeks so much easier. I am also very grateful to those parishioners who, through word and deed, have expressed such beautiful charity towards my family and me. In the days leading up to the Funeral Mass, I wondered if it would all be a blur to me. I wondered if I would be anxious or too emotional. Instead, the Lord gave me such a beautiful gift. I was completely at peace. Others attended to all of the details so that I could simply focus on offering the Mass and preaching. The surprising presence of people from throughout my life was so enormously consoling. So many of them were there because over the course of years, together we had encountered beauty, goodness, and truth, and had lived together in friendship in Christ. Many who attended the funeral told me how beautiful it was to see so many priests (and Cardinal Sean) in attendance. The presence of my brother priests at that moment will be something I will never forget. I was so surprised that so many priests came to pray for my Dad and support my family and me. It fills me with profound gratitude. At the very center of my Dad’s funeral was not my Dad. At the very center of it was Jesus Christ. In the beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship that I meet in the life of the Church, Christ makes himself known to me and this is what brings consolation. As I continue to absorb all that has occurred in the past month or so, I continuously feel deep gratitude. Thank you to all of you for your kind expressions of sympathy, your presence at the funeral, and your promises of prayers. They all assure me of the truth of the Resurrection and of the presence of Christ. In these days, in the midst of sorrow, I have encountered beauty, goodness, truth, and friendship in Christ and my heart is filled with gratitude. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

During the past few weeks I have spent as much time as my responsibilities permitted by the deathbed of my Dad. In his alert moments his humor and capacity as a great storyteller shone through. More importantly, his humble faith shone through. What a privilege it was for me to hear him renew his baptismal promises in those last days of his life, anointing him, granting him the Apostolic Pardon, commending his soul to the mercy of God, chanting the Litany of Saints, imploring the Blessed Virgin, the angels and the saints to intercede for him, and praying the Rosary and Divine Mercy Chaplet by his side. Most importantly, giving him the Eucharist each day during his final agony not only was a tremendous grace for him, but was a great source of consolation for me. The very last conscious act he made was receiving the Eucharist. This particular time of the liturgical year always reminds me how thin is the veil that separates heaven and earth. In these weeks we celebrate the feasts of Padre Pio, the archangels, guardian angels, Therese of Lisieux, Francis of Assisi, Bruno, Bartolo Longo, Faustina, the Holy Rosary, John Henry Newman, John XXIII, Carlo Acutis, Teresa of Avila, Margaret Mary, Luke, John Paul II, and many others. As we pass into the first days of November we celebrate All Saints and All Souls. I always have a sense in these days that heaven is not very far away at all. As I chanted the Litany of Saints at my Dad’s bedside, although deeply sorrowed that his earthly life was coming to its end, I knew that I was placing him in good company. I trust that what the Lord began in my Dad on the day of his baptism, he will bring to fulfillment now. We will place his body into the earth with faith in the Resurrection. Last Saturday before visiting my Dad, I celebrated a Nuptial Mass here. I still need to absorb the whole thing. Simultaneously, my heart was broken from sorrow for my Dad and filled with joy at the beauty of the Sacrament of Marriage and for that couple as they begin married life. After the Mass, I went to the hospital and, as I was crossing the street in Boston, this couple stopped me. “Father, are you busy?” Admittedly, I felt kind of annoyed because I wanted to get in to see my father. I smiled and said, “No.” Then they asked, “Could you bless our twins?” In their carriage were these beautiful one-month old infants, a brother and sister. It was the boy’s first time out of the NICU. I blessed them with a lot of joy. The couple explained to me that they were not married, but were trying to figure things out and to be a family. They said that they had been going to Mass recently and wanted to stay on track. Blessed be God. I thought of how 89 years ago this month, my Dad was an infant like that with his whole life ahead of him. Now, he was at the end of his life and here are these two beautiful little infants beginning their life. Their parents chose to give them life and are now trying to find a way to be a family and provide a Catholic life for them. I will pray for them. Some day, please God, those little infants will be old and will be preparing to depart from this life. I hope that they do so having lived a life of faith, nourished by the Sacraments. One of the privileges of priesthood, I believe, is that the Lord permits us at times to share in a unique way in his own Heart. This privilege is both beautiful and heart-piercing. It sometimes feels as though the Lord were putting one hundred gallons into a one gallon container! It is to feel intensely the Lord’s love for the good thief, his weeping at the grave of Lazarus, his joy at the repentant sinner, his joy for the little children, and his ardent desire that all might be saved. And quite often, the Lord does not share these things one at a time, but all at once. These days, I am feeling things intensely. I am grateful to the Lord for that privilege. Lastly, a word of thanks to all of you for your prayers and to the priests and staff of the parish whose goodness, kindness, and generosity have allowed me the privilege to be a son and a priest to my father. I am very grateful. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes