It’s important to say “Thank You”

Today is just a series of random thoughts: If you’ve tried to open either of the right hand doors to our main entrances recently, you may have thought that you were growing weak. Fear not. Recently, those doors have been fitted with a push button so that those who have difficulty opening the doors can have easier access. The left side of the double doors opens as usual. The other doors can be opened with a little extra pull or by pushing the handicapped button on the left side of the doors. After being pushed, there is a slight pause and then the right side door will open automatically. We pay approximately $1,000 dollars a week on electricity, $44,000 a year on heat, and $18,000 a year on water and sewer. Insurance is over $40,000, $108,000 is spent on maintenance of grounds and buildings, and just over $1,000,000 on salaries and benefits for our lay staff and clergy. If you do not do so already, please help us by making a weekly commitment to the parish by using our electronic giving program, weekly envelopes, or by setting up a recurring automatic payment from your bank. These methods of giving help us enormously. Don’t say, “I’ve got to do that sometime.” Do it today! Please. I imagine that for most people when they go to a hospital and see the sign that says, “Labor and Delivery,” they are reminded that there is at least one happy place in a hospital. Strange as it sounds, when I see that sign, a heavy feeling settles upon me. It’s because really the only time I ever visit there is when some tragic event has occurred. From the moment the call comes, during my drive there, walking down the halls, arriving at the doorway, I am filled with tremendous sorrow. And, that sorrow lingers for days after. I had such a call this past week. It is both a deeply painful responsibility and a beautiful and profound privilege to be called into such a situation. To be with the aggrieved in the worst moment of their life and to feel your utter incompetence and smallness before the enormity of their profound pain and sorrow places you really at the Mystery of the Cross itself. Even though it is among the most difficult things I encounter as a priest, I also recognize what an enormous privilege it is to be allowed by the Lord to be placed in those situations. I also recognize that when I am there, in a sense, we are all there together as a parish, offering spiritual closeness to those who mourn. Take a moment please to offer a prayer for that mother and father. Do you have children that you haven’t had baptized? Let’s get them baptized. Did you get married outside of the Church? Let’s work together to get that resolved. Are you a Catholic who has never been confirmed? Let’s get you confirmed. Are you a newcomer who is interested in becoming Catholic? Let’s make that happen. Don’t let these things sit on the backburner. We want to help you and your loved ones live the sacramental life. God wants this for you. While not all parishioners read the bulletin, it seems all the scam artists do. They often will find names, emails, and phone numbers and then contact people, pretending to be me. They will send emails or messages to people asking for money and gift cards. Please remember that I will never email or message you asking for gift cards or money! That is always a scam! For many people September is one of those times when they are motivated to make positive changes in their life. If you’ve been away from Mass for a while and somehow felt motivated to make another attempt at returning, welcome back. We are really happy that you are here. Don’t take your foot off the gas. Start building a solid habit by making an absolute commitment to attending Mass every Sunday for the next three months. This will engrain in you the habit of fidelity to the Mass. There will be challenges along the way. There will be Sundays when you feel like you can’t listen to another homily from me. There will be Sundays when you’re tired, unmotivated, or have a lot going on. Fight through it! Make a firm resolution that you will not miss Mass. You will never be sorry that you went to Mass. Never. If you happen to be that person who has been away and is trying to “get back,” I’m really happy for you. I am praying for you and want you to know that your being here is itself a sign that the Lord’s grace is at work in you. Not always, but the bulletin cover often relates either to the Sunday readings or to a feast day during the week or to something that I write about in this column. I usually don’t have space to provide much information, so I leave it to you to figure out! Today’s cover, however, is drawn from today’s Gospel parable. In the background, you see the first scene when the servant is begging the king for mercy. In the foreground is depicted the latter scene when he has been found out for showing no mercy to his fellow servant. I hope that you all have a great week. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

Videos from last week’s tragic floods in Nepal stunned us. The sudden and devastating destruction of life and property was shocking. Such events, unless we are devoid of any seriousness at all, force us to reflect upon the fragility of life and the ultimate meaning of our life. Those of us who are old enough to remember the day, will undoubtedly spend time this coming week remembering and recounting to others where we were twenty-five years ago on September 11th. Besides the anger and the deep sorrow that we felt in those days, do you recall how charitable we all became towards one another? In part, wasn’t that because we were confronted by the sense that we are all, pretty much, in the same boat. We saw how fragile life is and how quickly our end can come. In that immediate aftermath we treated each other differently because we recognized that all of the things that we think matter so much really do not matter much at all. They can be taken in an instant. Several of the videos I watched this past week were taken by people standing on the tops of mountains screaming to those down below. Because of the distance, they could not be heard. Although I couldn’t see the people on top of the mountains, I imagined that they were frantically waving their arms as they yelled, hoping that the people below would see them, understand what they were saying, and flee before they were overtaken by the certain death that was rushing towards them. Those videos–and the thoughts of September 11th–make me recall this week the fact that all of us are like those people. Death is not far away from us. Whether it is from human violence, long or short illness, old age, accident, or natural catastrophe, death is nearer to us than we realize. We tend to put it out of our minds and pretend that it is “a long way off.” We know–even if only in the very back of our thoughts–that we will die, but we can sometimes live as if that were not so. I was thinking that I can live like those unsuspecting people down below who were going on with life, not knowing that death was coming. All around me, the scriptures, the Church, and even life itself are waving their arms and yelling to me to wake up and flee from the danger. Of course, none of us can ultimately escape death, but we can wake up and be ready to meet it. Even nature itself cries out to us to remember death. Soon we will be surrounded by the brilliant colors of autumn and the once-green leaves falling to the earth. Squirrels are feverishly burying food for the winter. Birds are making ready their escape. All of these stand as signs to us to prepare for our own end. Think even about our very sense of time itself. For those who remember September 11th, do you not find yourselves wondering, “How is it possible that was twenty-five years ago?” Or, think of some long-past accomplishment of ours that seemed so impressive “back then.” With the passing of years, does it not now seem far less important? Remembering death is not morbid or depressing. In fact, I would argue that twenty-five years ago this week we were all living truer lives (even if, just for a little while) because we were forced to acknowledge death. Remembering death helps us to live differently. The scriptures are filled with reminders that each of us needs to prepare for death. This preparation means to repent. It means to turn away from sin. Not just once. It means every day to remember that death is not far away and that I should be ready for it. Is that a bit somber? I suppose it is. But, it’s the truth. It’s reality. And there is good news. Remembering death opens us up to remembering the One who conquers death and can save us from the grave. Jesus is Risen and is Lord. In Christ, we need not fear death because in Him we too can be victorious. This week reminds me that I do not want to live in such a way that I am unprepared for my own death and judgment, both of which–even if they come in another fifty years–are coming a lot more quickly than I realize. We need to live every day as though it could be our last because, sooner rather than later, it will be. Jesus does not wish the sinner to die in his sin, but to turn away from sin and live. If we live a life of sincere repentance and with closeness to Jesus, our hope is secure. So yes, remember death, repent today (and tomorrow if it is given to you), and stay close to Jesus. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

It’s funny the things we remember quite clearly. When I was growing up, the Sunday Mass schedule at our local parish was Saturday 4pm and 7pm and on Sunday it was (and this is exactly how we said them) the Quarter of Eight, the Nine-Fifteen, the Quarter of Eleven, the Twelve, and the Five. It struck me recently that there was never a question of whether we would go to Mass on Sunday. The only question was which Mass. That was not because we were an especially holy family. In fact, we were pretty run-of-the-mill. In many ways, getting up to go to Sunday Mass was the same as getting up to go to school or to work. We never woke up and thought to ourselves, “Hmmm, let me decide whether I feel like going to school today.” (Maybe with the exception of a few questionable stomach aches over the years….) Mass wasn’t something we decided about each Sunday. It was a given. We were Catholic. Catholics go to Mass on Sundays. We go to Mass on Sundays. Gradually over the past decades, people came to think of Sunday Mass as something they might decide to do if it fits into their schedule on a particular Sunday. If certain conditions all align, then I will go to Mass. So, if the weather is not too nice, I’m not tired, I don’t have to do the food shopping, my kids don’t have a lacrosse game, I don’t have anything else to do, and I feel like it, then I will go to Mass. Imagine if we treated one another like that. Would one say to their spouse or their child, “If I don’t have anything I’d rather do instead, I will spend time with you?” In my neighborhood growing up, pretty much everybody went to Mass on Sunday. Those who didn’t, stood out. Everyone went to Mass, in part, because we all knew that’s what it means to be Catholic and there was an ingrained culture that supported adherence to the Faith. Being immersed in a culture shapes us. One of the absolute clearest predictors of whether a child will grow up to attend Mass when they are adults is if their father attended Mass. When the father attends Mass regularly, 44% of children will grow up to do likewise. 30% will attend irregularly and roughly a quarter will stop attending completely. If a mother attends regularly, but the father rarely attends, only 2-3% of those children will practice the faith in their adulthood. And, of course, the best of all worlds is when both parents are practicing the Faith and modeling it to their children. A recent study shows that when both parents attend, there is a 72% chance their children will stay close to the Church. Children whose fathers regularly attend Mass exhibit better self-control, less anxiety and depression, and have a significantly decreased risk of substance abuse. Studies also show that children whose fathers regularly attended Sunday Mass were 18% more likely to report higher levels of happiness in their twenties. 63% of former Catholics left the Church by age 23 and they say the process began between the ages of 10 and 17. Dads, I don’t mean to lay it heavy upon you, but you have a job to do. If you are a Catholic Dad, I want to encourage you to step up your game. Just resolve that you are going to live a life that makes you a better son to your heavenly Father and a better father to your children. Create a culture in your home with your wife that puts God first and foremost in your life. This is for your own sake, but also for the sake of your children. Your children need a Dad who loves them enough to teach them by his example that the Sunday Mass is non-negotiable. Could that require some sacrifice? Could it require a change in your life? Could it require making yourself do something for a while that will be difficult? Yeah, but that’s what you’re supposed to do as a man. Are your children worth it? Is your soul worth it? Is God worth it? If you’re not being a spiritual leader to your children, you need to correct that. Not down the road. Today. Whenever I write something challenging to others, I am immediately confronted by all of my own weaknesses and failures. So, as I write to challenge you fathers, I am well-aware that as a priest, I too am called to examine myself and to exercise greater diligence in my own fatherhood. Fatherhood is serious business. Let’s treat it as such! Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

My original intention for this week was to use this space to speak about Fr. Mario (whose Third Anniversary we commemorate on August 29th), but some other recent event kept returning to my thoughts. In the end, I decided that the particular matter which I want to address was one near and dear to Fr. Mario and one about which he spoke boldly. I hope in addressing this issue, I also honor him. Oftentimes in the confessional, people resort to euphemisms. Instead of naming a sin clearly, they use some euphemism. Although we should strive simply to name a sin, for some people embarrassment or fear prevents them from doing so directly. A good confessor, I think, usually can sort out whether a person is using vague language to deceive as opposed to a person who is just embarrassed or fearful. For example, the man who says, “I spend too much time with my girlfriend,” but doesn’t mention that he is married, is attempting to deceive at that moment. You can’t deceive and make a good confession. On the other hand, the person who gets the point across but just can’t bring themselves to say some actual word or words, the confessor recognizes as doing their best at the present moment. The hope for that person is that, as they grow in faith and in confidence in the Lord’s mercy and the grace of the sacrament of Confession, they learn to be more direct and simple in their language. They are not being dishonest or deceitful. They are usually just afraid. Recently, Massachusetts lawmakers passed a law which they entitled, “An Act Prioritizing Patient Access to Care.” Who could possibly be opposed to such a nice sounding law? I mean it's all about “patients” and “care.” I bet if you asked many of the legislators who advocated for this bill to describe in detail what this law would permit to be done to a fully-formed baby, they would obfuscate, demur, and use euphemisms such as, “reproductive health,” “patient care,” “women’s health.” Why in the world would they not be willing to describe some of these procedures in detail? Is it because they are embarrassed, ashamed, fearful? Unfortunately, I suspect that is not the case. I suspect it is purely a political and public relations concern. The grotesque, violent, and abhorrent nature of what is permitted and promoted by this law’s advocates is deeply offensive to the very nature of a decent society, and is also a grievous offense against the author of life Himself. A law permitting and promoting the targeting of vulnerable babies with lethal violence is egregiously offensive to human dignity. The recent law just passed by our local legislators and signed by our governor ought to give each one of us pause. What kind of people have we become? What kind of society have we allowed? What role have I played in allowing this horror to continue? As people grow in their faith, their confessions become more plainspoken, simple, and clear. They want to be honest before the Lord. In the confessional, people sometimes use code, but they are not being deceitful. They are just slowly growing in their trust in the Lord’s mercy. They are on the right track. Eventually, each one of us will stand before the judgement seat of God. It is unavoidable. Christ, the One who will say at the Judgement, “What you did to the least ones you did unto me,” will not judge by appearance, euphemism, or deceit. All of these will burn away like fog in the bright light of the sun. In that moment, everything will be laid bare and we will be commanded to give an account to the Judge of Heaven and Earth for our every act. That will most certainly include “An Act Prioritizing Patient Access to Care.” Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes

When I originally planned the parish pilgrimage to the Holy Land well-over a year ago, I held out hope that the chaos in the region would have long subsided by now. Alas, with the constant “on again, off again” status of the conflict, we found ourselves at a crossroads needing to make a decision. So, we have decided to delay the Holy Land trip and, when a more opportune time arises, attempt it again. While the cancellation of the Holy Land pilgrimage is disappointing (because it is truly an amazing experience), we decided to pilgrimage to the Holy Shrines of Italy instead. Although I have had the privilege of being in Italy before, I never tire of experiencing the beauty, culture, and history of such a marvelous place. More than that, however, it is incredible to pray in some of the most beautiful, holy, and venerable sites of our Catholic faith. I remember the first time I walked around Assisi, it felt as though I might run into Francis himself! I think one of the most beautiful parts of going to Italy for me is that every time I have been there, something unexpectedly beautiful happens. It is an ancient place, but there is always something new about it. In any event, I hope that some of you might consider joining us. April is a beautiful time of year in Italy. These kinds of trips not only afford us the opportunity to deepen our friendship with the Lord, but also the opportunity to deepen our friendship with the saints and with one another. A pilgrimage is a bit of a microcosm of our life. We are reminded that we are ultimately on pilgrimage to Heaven and we are travelers on that road together. Speaking of being on the road together, this past week marked my third year here at St. Patrick Parish. I always tell people that when you arrive at a new parish, it takes a few years just to figure out what key opens what door, why the filing cabinet is over there instead of over here, and who is related to whom. It takes a while to get to know people. It also takes a while for people to get to know the priest. To be honest, I like (and prefer) that slow “getting to know you” kind of unfolding of life. For whatever reason, God, in His Providence, has chosen us to be together at this time and place on our pilgrimage route to Heaven. Little by little, day after day, we are walking on this path together. It is in and through our communion with one another that each of us is being drawn into deeper fidelity to the Lord. As I have gradually come to know you over these past three years, my heart grows in affection for you. It is a real grace each week to look out at Mass and to see the beautiful ways in which the Lord is at work in your lives. Getting to know one another slowly along the pilgrimage route is not merely for its own sake. Rather, it is how Christ chooses to enter into our lives and to make himself known. When I look upon you, I can say with the two disciples on the Road to Emmaus, “Were not our hearts burning within us … ?” Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes