When Will Polio Be Eradicated???

Not quite making the front page of the newspaper, but headline news on page 5, nonetheless, is the report of outbreaks of polio in Syria and Iraq.  Polio.  A disease that has been preventable since the mid-1950s.  Why has it not been completely eradicated from the earth?  Why?  Why?  Why?

I am a polio survivor — twice.  The first time I contracted this horrendous disease, I had celebrated my fifth birthday just a month earlier.  Springtime.  April showers . . . .  Flowers blooming.  Trees blossoming before leafing out in varying shades of green.  Easter.  My brother’s 13th birthday.

My brother’s birthday is April 12 and we had celebrated Easter just a few days prior to this momentous day when David became a teenager.  On Easter Sunday, our family had gone to Mass — as we did every Sunday — and then gathered with aunts, uncles, and cousins for an Easter egg hunt and a traditional Easter dinner.  Because I was so young, I have only vague memories but I do remember one of my cousins asking me why I didn’t want to hunt for chocolate Easter bunnies.  As my mother told the story, I was lethargic and clingy that day.  By the time we returned home later in the afternoon, I was running a fever — a high fever.  None of the other children were sick, and to ensure that my brothers and sisters did not catch whatever bug I had come down with, my mom put me to bed.

David’s birthday was a few days later and my fever had not broken.  Plans for a 13th birthday party were postponed while I was taken to the hospital where I was diagnosed as having polio.  The family was quarantined.  Mom was terrified her youngest child might die or be permanently crippled; she was terrified her older children would also become ill.  Thank God, I was the only one who did get sick.

April 12, 1955 — a date my family will never forget, along with hundreds of thousands of other families with young children at the time.  April 12, 1955, was the day, at a press conference at the University of Michigan, that the Salk poliovirus vaccine trials were announced a success.   April 12, 1955, was my brother, David’s, 13th birthday.  April 12, 1955 was the day I was diagnosed with polio.  Polio is something I rarely discuss — it is painful, both physically and emotionally.  However, polio became a part of who I am, and surviving it influenced many of the decisions I have made as an adult.

Yes, I am disabled. I recovered from that initial bout of polio, tossing the crutches and braces in the trash by the time I was 10.  Other than one leg being slightly shorter than the other, I had no noticble residual effects of the polio. By inserting a lift in my shoe, no one was the wiser that I had ever been sick. I could run and play with my friends, my cousins, my siblings. I could climb trees, I could ski, I played baseball on my high school and college teams.  Polio did not hold me back or slow me down.  Until I got sick again.  I had been living in Eastern Europe where polio had not been completely eradicated.  This time, I didn’t recover quite as well as the first time. I couldn’t walk without assistance, I couldn’t run and play, I couldn’t ski, I couldn’t climb trees.  I needed to use a wheelchair.

My health has improved significantly since that second bout of polio.  I use a wheelchair, but I am able to walk with the aid of braces and crutches.  I ski on a mono-ski, I play wheelchair basketball, I “run” in 5K and 10K charity races, and I have been known to “hike” accessible mountain trails.

Now, as we approach the 60th anniversary of the Salk Poliovirus Vaccine Trials, polio is still prevalent in some third world, war-torn countries.  Children growing up in Syria fear for their lives as bombs explode around them.  Children growing up in Syria are hungry and homeless because of terrorism. Children growing up in Syria are contracting polio — a disease that could have been eradicated from Earth half a century ago.  Polio workers in Pakistan have been targeted by the Taliban and murdered — while vaccinating children.  Because of the threats to their lives, many volunteers have stopped working.  Even the police, who are committed to protecting the workers, fear for their lives. According to The Rotary Club’s campaign End Polio Now, only three countries remain endemic to polio.  Southeast Asia was recently declared polio free.  With your help, this devastating disease can finally find its way into the annals of history, just as small pox did three decades ago.

Marriage

My foray into the blogosphere has been, at times, intimidating.  In an attempt to become more comfortable with writing to an unknown audience, I have tried to steer clear of controversial subjects.  If I am going to subject myself, or my writing, to debate, I prefer to do so in the academic arena.  However, in light of the Supreme Court’s decision on same-sex marriage, I feel that I need to step out of my comfort zone and speak up — or, allow another priest to speak for me via his blog.  Fr. Joe Jenkins has written a well thought out essay on why the Catholic Church cannot back down on its theological beliefs or principles.  There is very little in what he says that I disagree with.

Although I believe, wholeheartedly, that my church needs to stand her ground on the issue of marriage, I also believe that from a civil perspective, same-sex couples deserve to be treated with respect, love, and kindness.  Whether or not we believe, as individuals or as a church, that homosexuality is acceptable, it has become accepted by society.  Same-sex attracted couples fall in love and, just like heterosexual couples, they want to commit to a lifetime together.  They want to raise a family, frequently adopting the “unadoptable” children that no one else will give a home to.  To protect the welfare of their families, they want the same legal rights as their heterosexual neighbors and friends and family.  Morally, we must, as a society, acknowledge their right to the same civil legal status as their neighbors.

My thoughts on the subject of civil unions may seem liberal and radical for a priest. Opinions can be changed by life experiences or observations.  Mine have changed over the past few years as I have watched my nephew struggle with his same-sex attraction. Because of his Catholic upbringing, that struggle has been made more difficult because his church does not fully accept him as God created him.  Not everyone is called to a celibate life and by asking ALL same-sex attracted individuals to live celibately, we are asking for the impossible.  For the moment, my nephew is celibate.  He is only 30 years old.  Can I, a celibate priest, ask him to remain celibate for the rest of his life?  All I can do is ask that he try, that he pray about the path in which God wants him to follow.  If he cannot commit to a lifetime of celibacy, I pray that he commits to ONE person.

I do believe that same-sex couples deserve to be protected by all the same legal rights as their heterosexual neighbors.  I do, however, draw the line at marriage. Marriage is sacred, between one man and one woman.  We, as a society, have lost sight of the sanctity of the vows a couple recites before God.  “I will love you, until death do us part,” not “until divorce do us part.”  (Although there are circumstances where divorce is the only recourse for abused women or children.)  While civil law establishes societal standards of conduct, we must also consider the natural law, moral law, and divine revelation.  It is from these fonts of wisdom and grace that Catholics understand that marriage between one man and one woman is a gift to humanity.  The blessings of such a marriage cannot be legislated, litigated, or changed by civil authorities.

Rather than repeat what Fr. Joe has written so eloquently in his blog, I ask that you read it. I also recommend the blog Fr. Joe refers to, written by Monsignor Charles Pope from the Archdiocese of Washington.

May God bless each of His children.  May God bless the married couples, man and woman, who believe in the sanctity and holiness of their vows and their commitment to one another and their children.  May God bless . . . .

Boston Strong

Four weeks ago I was in Ireland, visiting cousins after a blessed Lenten spiritual retreat. Four weeks ago, the United States was, once again, attacked by Muslim terrorists, this time at the finish line of the Boston Marathon, a marathon I have run four times — thrice as an able-bodied runner and once in the wheelchair division.  Four weeks ago, my cousins and I watched in horror as a city very dear to my heart reeled from the attack of innocent bystanders, permanently injuring many and killing a few.  Four weeks ago, I felt terribly helpless, wanting to be in Boston to offer spiritual support and comfort.

• Psalms 46:1 ~~ God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
• Psalms 55:22 ~~ Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.
• Psalms 25:1 ~~ In You, Lord my God, I put my trust.

And, so, we came . . . .  After a middle-of-the-night visit from their priest and through the remarkable generosity of a small Irish parish, funds were gathered and an airline ticket was purchased for my cousin, Meghan.  I had an open-ended return ticket to the USA that I had not intended to use until summer, but God was calling me to be in Boston.  Meghan is a retired nurse who worked in the trauma unit of a hospital for many years; my brother, Patrick, is a retired orthopedic surgeon, my sister, Colleen, is a retired pediatrician, and my niece, Michelle, is a nurse; my nephew, John, and I are priests.  With ties to this great city, we descended upon Boston to help where we could.

• Psalms 147:3 ~~ He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds.
• Jeremiah 17:14 ~~ Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved; for you are my praise.
• Mark 5:34 ~~ He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”
• James 5:14 ~~ Are any among you sick?  They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.
• Luke 4:18 ~~ The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.

John was ordained just a year ago and continues to live in Boston, teaching at one of the many colleges that line the historic streets.  Through the gracious hospitality of people he knows, we all had lodging arranged for us.  Each of us has felt extremely blessed to meet the victims of the bombings and their families.  Americans are resilient, Bostonians are resilient, and the spiritual strength of those we met never ceased to amaze me.

• Proverbs 3:5 ~~ Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight.
• John 14:1 ~~ “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me.”

The medical O’Malleys and Donahues remained in Boston for two weeks, volunteering their services where needed.  I remained in Boston for another week where Fr. John and I ministered to the spiritual needs of the injured and their families.  We prayed, we celebrated Mass, we offered the Eucharist and, while blessing those who were in crisis, we felt blessed to be a part of their healing.  Strong.  Boston Strong.

In a city that is predominately Roman Catholic, at a time when people from all walks of life ran towards the bombing victims, priests who were within reach of the wounded and dying were prohibited from approaching them.  Anointing of the Sick is one of seven sacraments in the Catholic church.  It is sacred to us.  For priests to be within reach of those needing and wanting to receive this sacrament, and to be denied the opportunity, is maddening.  For the police — many of whom are Irish Catholic — to barricade priests against entering the crime scene to minister to the dying and injured is unconscionable.  At this writing, the police have not responded to calls from the media as to their reasoning.  Anointing of the Sick at the Boston Marathon

Emotions continue to run high in Boston, mine included.  And, so, while on an airplane, flying home to the West, I nearly lost my priestly pacifism when my seat mate referred to me as an apostate priest who was leading my fellow Catholics down an evil path.  This is not the first time I have been called an apostate priest; most recently, it was a fellow blogger who has nothing kind to say about the Roman Catholic Church or its followers.  However, being confronted in person, on an enclosed airplane, was a first.  While trying to ignore his diatribe, I continued to read my Bible, most specifically the Book of Wisdom which is considered apocryphal by Protestants and is not included in the Protestant Bible.

And, so, I tried to be wise.  I tried to heed the spirit of the Book of Wisdom.  I tried to keep my impish Irish temper in check.  After explaining to my fellow passenger that an already long flight would be made only longer if he continued to criticize my church and me, I asked him to allow me to continue reading the Bible in peace.

• The Wisdom of Solomon 1:11 ~~ Beware then of useless grumbling, and keep your tongue from slander; because no secret word is without result, and a lying mouth destroys the soul.

After a couple of hours of peaceful silence, I opened a discussion with him about the Book of Wisdom.  I explained that, although considered apocryphal by Protestants, it contains much of what is found in the Protestant canon.  It contrasts the lives of the just and the wicked, dramatizing the eschatological destinies of the two groups.  It celebrates the figure of the divine Sophia, or Wisdom.  It uses historical comparison based principally on Exodus 7-14, providing Biblical examples of the righteous and the unrighteous, and demonstrates how the power of the divine wisdom operates in human history.  Knowing that this person believes the Bible to be the inerrant, factually historical, Word of God, not the inerrant, inspired, Word of God, I needed to compare and contrast very carefully.

We discussed the Bible and our interpretations of certain scriptures.  Then, I asked him if he would explain to me why, without knowing me as a person, he thinks of me as an apostate, why he believes the Catholic church is evil in its teachings, and why he thinks it wrong of me to minister to those in Boston who were injured.  I will not relive our conversation here but, suffice it to say, I got an earful.

When he was finished with his diatribe, I explained to him what I had witnessed in Boston — families of those who were murdered, the injured and their families, and witnesses who will forever be affected by the war scene.  I met people from all walks of faith — Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Muslim, and some who claimed no particular faith but who still believed in a powerful God.  What I learned from these people is that in the big scheme of the universe, it does not matter to God which faith community we belong, but that we believe in Him and His healing power.

I witnessed people from different faith backgrounds coming together to pray, to offer support, to cry.  I witnessed people from different faith backgrounds giving blood for the victims.  I witnessed people from different faith backgrounds working side-by-side in hospitals to heal the injured.  Not one person gave thought to which denomination another might belong.  During this time of crisis, it did not matter.  I prayed with, not only Catholics, but with Protestants from many different denominations, and Jews.  What mattered to the injured, their families, and the city of Boston, was the benevolent humanity from all walks of faith.

I explained my observations to my seat mate and, yet, it fell on deaf ears.  Rather than praying intercessory prayers, asking God to comfort those who had lost loved ones or asking God to heal those who had been injured, he believed the only prayers he should offer were for their salvation.  Intercessory prayer is simply prayer for other people and, in a sense, everyone is called to be an intercessor as we pray for one another.

• James 5:16 ~~ Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.
• 1 Timothy 2:1 ~~ First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people.
• Ephesians 6:18 ~~  Praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints.

After a long flight made only longer by our discussion, I knew my seat mate and I would never agree.  I have very close friends who are not of my faith.  We do not always agree, but we respect each other’s beliefs and we try to learn from each other.  I am saddened that this man could not open his heart to loving others as they are, no matter their faith backgrounds.  If we are to ever experience world peace, it will be because we take to heart . . .

• Mark 12: 30-31 ~~ Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.  There is no commandment greater than these.

Ireland

Ah, the ancestral home of my family!  Although an American, I know I have come home when I visit Ireland.  So green.  So lush.  So beautiful.  So peaceful.  So Catholic!!  And, if not for my annual Lenten fast, so much Guinness!  Imagine being in Ireland and not being able to drink Guinness.

I am 100% Irish — both of my parents were born in this incredible country.  I love everything about being here, most of all seeing family.  Yep, I have first cousins in Ireland.  Because my parents were the youngest of their families, my first cousins, once removed, are closer to my age.  I will be spending part of my visit with my cousin, Meghan, her husband, Ronan, and their family.  We will reminisce about our childhood antics during my family’s visits to the ancestral home or when her family visited us in the USA.

Ireland is in my blood — I have joked that my blood runs green.  Without being too specific about where I grew up, let’s just say I think my grandparents settled where they did because it reminded them of Ireland.  Rain.  Green.  Ocean.  Catholic churches established by missionaries of long ago.  Home.

I am taking a semester-long sabbatical from my teaching position.  It is the first sabbatical I have had — never taking more than a one month vacation from teaching/preaching, of which two weeks of that summer vacation is always spent on retreat in a Catholic Abbey.  I have filled my time with family and prayer.  I have contemplated where God is leading me as I ponder retirement.

Contemplative prayer — In a few days, I will enter a Jesuit retreat center where I will reside for an undetermined length of time.  Maybe a month, maybe more.  I do not need to be back in the USA until August.  I have spent most of my adult life in front of a classroom — teaching.  Teaching theology at the high school level, teaching ancient Christianity and world religions and all things relating to Religious Studies at the university level.  I love teaching.  I love teaching about God.  I love teaching about Christianity.  I love learning about other religions so that I can teach about them.  God led me to the classroom, and there I have been for over 30 years.

As I approach retirement age — although not mandatory — I need to figure out the next phase of this journey called life.  Thus, the extended retreat where I will be cloistered for part of the time.  God has a plan that only He knows.  As a child of God, I need to listen to Him and follow His guiding hand.  Where will He lead me next?  Each summer, when I am on retreat — for a short two weeks — it has become more difficult to reenter the world.  I am drawn to a life of contemplation.  I have spent my career being “public,” speaking before groups, socializing with fellow academics or fellow priests or congregations.  In reality, I am the ultra-introvert.  I prefer to be alone.  Quiet.  What I hope to discern during this extended retreat is whether I would serve God well by being a spiritual director at a retreat center.  Should I trade my absent-minded professor garb for my clerical garb?

I have much to pray about over the next several weeks — not just about my future, but prayers for my family, prayers for my friends, prayers for the world.  I know a few people who are hoping I will blog about St. Patrick — after all, I am in Ireland, I am Irish, and I was born on St. Pat’s Day!  However, I will be cloistered so I doubt if I will write anything about the patron saint of the land I love.

Until I return — my prayers to all of my readers.  Please pray for me, too!

God bless . . . .

Married Priests???

St. Ignatius of Loyola

I am also a Jesuit.  A Catholic priest.  My vows are sacred and I would never do anything, knowingly, to break those vows.  I love the Catholic Church and what it represents in my life, in the lives of my family, and to the world as a sacred place of worship.  My personal relationship with Jesus began when I was five years old, sick with polio.  Jesus visited my hospital bed and he comforted a scared, sick little boy.  Jesus has walked beside me ever since.I teach.  It is what God has called me to do.  Teach.  I love my job.  I love my students.  I love sharing my passion for historical Christianity with those who have a desire to learn.  I have been a teacher for so long I think I have lost track of the years — high school, elementary school, college.  My present job as professor of religious studies began almost 20 years ago.

The days of polio are long forgotten by those never touched by that horrific disease.  The vaccine became readily available the same month I got sick.  My brothers and sisters were inoculated in their schools; I hadn’t begun school, yet, so I was the “lucky” person to contract polio.  Very few Americans remember the disease, nor do they know of anyone who is a survivor.  Unfortunately, polio remains prevalent in some underdeveloped countries — unlike smallpox, polio has not been completely eradicated from the earth.

As I recovered from that bout of polio so many years ago, I spent a great deal of time with our family priest, who was also a family friend having been a childhood friend of my parents.  Father Mike was permitted to visit me every day in the hospital where he taught me the Rosary and read Bible stories.  After being released from the hospital, I still had months of rehabilitation.  I couldn’t run and play with my siblings and my friends, so I’d hang out with my priest, my friend, my godfather.  I’d been named for Father Mike and, because of polio, we had a very special bond which remained tight until his death at the age of 95.  It was that bond and my friendship with Jesus that led me toward the priesthood.

From the time I was five years old I knew I wanted to serve God and those feelings never wavered.  As I was studying and training, I realized my talents would better serve in a classroom rather than in a parish.  It was Father Mike’s dream that I would come home and become the pastor of “our” parish when he retired.  For two years I tried but I missed the classroom — hence my move to another state where I was hired at a public university.

Jesuit Circuit Rider

After 18 years of teaching at that university, I am taking a semester sabbatical.  I came home to spend time with my family and to enjoy the beauty of my home state.  I have also been filling in for vacationing priests — the past few weeks have been fulfilling and exciting.  At times I have felt like a circuit riding Jesuit of years gone by  — all I needed was a horse, a long black cassock, and a big brimmed hat!

At one of the churches I visited this past week, I had an experience that proved to be more emotional than I expected.  One of the priests I filled in for was vacationing with — his wife.  His wife.  How, do you ask, can a Catholic priest be married?  This particular priest, as with most married priests, comes from a Protestant background, most of them Episcopalian.  Following God’s call, he was first ordained in the United Church of Christ and later in the Episcopal Church.  Because I never met the man, I do not know his reasons for renouncing his Episcopal orders, but I can guess.  The Episcopal Church has become, in the eyes of many, too liberal — ordaining women, ordaining gay priests, acknowledging gay marriage.  I do not know if these are the reasons this particular priest left the Episcopal Church, but it is a good guess.  I have known for quite some time that Episcopalian priests have been given permission by the Holy See to be ordained as Catholic priests.  But, this was the first time it hit me in the face, so to speak.

I live all my vows faithfully — the vow of chastity, the vow of poverty, and the vow of obedience.  Over the past 30 + years, there have been times when I have doubted my human ability to be faithful to my vows.  But, the strength of my devotion to God has always prevailed and, with Jesus standing by my side, I have found the courage to work through my doubts and to remain faithful.  And so, this week, I wondered why it is possible for a former Episcopal priest to be ordained Catholic and bring his wife and children with him?  Why can he be married and I can’t?  Why can he come home after a long day “at the office” to the loving arms of his soul mate and I can’t?  Why?  Why must I suffer through bouts of loneliness when he doesn’t?  I was born Catholic — a cradle Catholic.  I knew when I was a child I wanted to become a priest.  Being as idealistic as any young man entering the priesthood, I wanted to save the world and I knew I could live my vows.  What I did not know is how difficult it is sometimes — to be lonely.  To come home to an empty house.  It just doesn’t seem fair.  I can hear my mom saying, “But, Michael, life isn’t fair.”  Every kid learns that lesson.  Right?  Right.

This, too, shall pass — like all the other times I have wondered about the fairness of the vow of chastity. Priests haven’t always been required to be celibate and, I believe, sometime in the far off future, a liberated Pope will change the “rules” and allow priests to marry.

I know many who are reading this are saying, “Yeah, right, a celibate priest.”  We all know what has been in the media for the past couple of decades.  Please remember how the media plays on the negative.  With all the “bad” priests that have made the news, how many “good” priests have you heard or read about?  Not many, I’d guess.  For the record, the good priests do outnumber the bad ones.

As a dear friend tells me frequently, I will sleep with my angels, and pray they soothe my soul.  God bless each and every person who reads this.  God bless all those who serve Him, whether they be Catholic or Protestant or Jewish or Muslim.  God bless.

Epiphany

How many wise men visited the Christ child?  How old was Jesus when the Magi visited?  Can the answers be found in Matthew?  Do any of the other gospels mention the Magi?

Matthew 2: 1-12 — 1 Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, saying, 2 “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the East, and have come to worship him.” 3 When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him; 4 and assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. 5 They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it is written by the prophet: 6 ‘And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who will govern my people Israel.'” 7 Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star appeared; 8 and he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him bring me word, that I too may come and worship him.” 9 When they had heard the king they went their way; and lo, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came to rest over the place where the child was. 10 When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy; 11 and going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh. 12 And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.

Matthew 2: 16 — Then Herod, when he saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, was in a furious rage, and he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time which he had ascertained from the wise men.

Matthew is the only gospel to mention the visit of the Magi to Jesus and his parents.  By reading the gospel, is it possible to determine how many wise men there were?  Or, how old Jesus was?  Oh, the traditions Christians have formed as we celebrate the Christmas season.  Three wise men?  Are you sure?  Did they visit the baby Jesus?  Or, toddler?  Read carefully, and study the gospel with a critical eye.

Who were the Magi?  Wise men?  Magi is the plural form of magus.  They would have been members of a priestly caste from ancient Persia, which was east of the kingdoms of Judea and Israel.  Were they wise or were they practitioners of astrology or sorcerery?  There was a star the Magi followed in search of the newborn King of the Jews.  But, what was that star?  Could it have been a comet?  Could it have been a rare alignment of the planets?  That question has been debated for centuries.

Most creche scenes at Christmas include three wise men who, in later tradition, were named Melchior, a Persian scholar, Caspar, an Indian scholar, and Balthazar, an Arabian scholar.  But, why three wise men?  Were they named in the Gospel of Mark?  No. Does the Gospel say there were three wise men?  No. The Gospel does tell us that three gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh, were presented to the infant Jesus, thus the tradition of three Magi.

But, was Jesus an infant or a toddler?  A clue is that King Herod ordered all the male children under the age of two years to be killed.  It is possible the Magi paid their visit up to two years after Jesus was born.  The ancients did not have access to instantaneous internet as we do in the 21st Century, and it could have taken months, possibly years, for news to travel across the region.  

Christians celebrate the visit of the Magi with Epiphany, traditionally celebrated 12 days after Christmas on January 6, which is the last day of the Christmas season.  It is the day to celebrate the light of Christ being spread throughout the world.  Epiphany is a time to share the love of Jesus, to “love our neighbors as we love ourselves.”  

Spreading the love of Christ has always been important to my family.  My parents began a tradition, while we were still children, of serving those who are less fortunate than ourselves — not only on the day of Epiphany, but several times throughout the year.  We were taught to evangelize by our actions, not necessarily our words.  The blessings I have received from serving the poor, the hungry, the homeless, are innumerable.  I have had opportunities to meet some of the most amazing people, people who seem to have lost their way, people who need to feel that they are loved and appreciated.

As we begin a new year, when so many of us make New Year’s resolutions that are more often than not forgotten within a few weeks, I challenge anyone who is reading this to make a commitment to work, one day a month, serving others who are in need.  A homeless shelter.  A soup kitchen.  Shriner’s Hospital.  The Good Will or Salvation Army.  A resource center for pregnant teens.  Caring for an HIV patient.  I challenge you to move out of your comfort zone and meet people who will bless your life in ways you cannot imagine.

And, since there have been over 500 views of this blog, I know people are reading it who I do not know.  I would like you to add a comment sharing where you volunteer your time to serve others.

Blessings . . . .

Happy New Year 2013

Whew!  We made it through the end of the Mayan calendar and survived December 21, 2012.  We survived another Presidential election and, no matter which side of the fence each of us sits, the United States of America is still the greatest country in the world.  Just ask all the immigrants who are crossing our borders — whether from Central and South America, or from Africa, or from the Middle East, or from . . . wherever.

I am visiting my family in my home state.  I love coming “home.”  My parents have long since passed, but all my brothers and sisters and their families live in our hometown.  My sister, Kelly, is the social butterfly who loves to entertain.  Every year she manages to coordinate a spectacular Christmas Eve celebration and feeds about 75 people — yes, our family is HUGE.  After dinner, we open presents before attending Midnight Mass at our family church where we fill several pews.  Christmas morning is quiet, with individual families opening stockings and gifts from Santa, breakfast, and then Mass at noon.

New Year’s Eve traditions change — some years there is a party, some years are quiet, some years we see a movie.  This year, several of us drove to a ski resort to watch skiers ski down the mountain carrying torches.  There must have been about 100 skiers and it was spectacular.  Once the skiers were at the bottom, the fireworks began.  Beautiful against the white snow.  Although the revelers continued to party, we had movie tickets and needed to head back down the mountain.

“Les Misérables”, the movie.  Wow!  Wow!  The consensus among the family is that Hugh Jackman should be nominated for an Academy Award for best actor.  Anne Hathaway should be nominated for best supporting actress.  The movie is excellent and seeing the scenes helped to make the plot more understandable from the theatrical play.  By the time we arrived home, it was nearly 1 a.m. — late for this early riser.

New Year’s Day 2013 — a quiet day to celebrate the Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God.  For Catholics, January 1, the Octave (8th) day of the Christmas Season, is the day designated as a liturgical feast honoring Mary’s divine motherhood of Jesus the Christ.  The title “Mother of God” is a western derivation from the Greek, Theotokos, the God-bearer.  The term was adopted at the Third Ecumenical Council held at Ephesus in 431 C. E. as a way to assert the Divinity of Christ.  If Jesus is God, then Mary is the Mother of God.

Those outside the Catholic tradition view our veneration of Mary has a form of worship.  What we worship is her saintly motherhood.  Mary is the ideal mother.  Mary’s mother, St. Anne, is the patron saint of mothers.  To my Catholic family, there is no better way to begin a new year than by honoring Our Lady.  We welcome her in prayer and turn the page of the calendar imploring her blessing and intercession.  As children, we not only celebrated the Mary but our mother, Mary, on this feast day.  My dad taught us well how to honor our mother, the woman who gave us life and who nurtured us until her death at the age of 90.

Traditions — family, feast meals, celebrating the lives of the Holy Family, ringing in the new year with family and friends, and laughing about New Year’s resolutions unfulfilled.  The same resolutions are made year after year after year and most of them are forgotten within a few weeks.  My very dear friend, who is Methodist, made a commitment to read the entire Protestant Bible in 2012 — and she did it!!  Her resolution for 2013 is to read the rest of the Bible — the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical books plus the essays that are included in The New Oxford Annotated New Revised Standard Version (NRSV).  Her husband’s New Year’s resolution is to guide his wife on an amazingly wonderful trip to Southeast Asia.  My New Year’s resolution for 2013 is to enjoy my semester-long sabbatical!!!!!!  No classes, no students — whatever shall I do?!

And, so, we begin another year.  Another year of ups and downs, of hills and valleys, of traveling life’s highways.  My prayer for all — for our world, for all nations, for Mother Earth, for all Earth’s inhabitants, for my family, for my friends, for my colleagues both at the university and at church — is that we find peace.  The world has never been peaceful, nor will it, but may we find peace amongst ourselves.  I pray that families find accord when they are faced with difficult decisions, I pray our government can learn to compromise on all issues, I pray the United States becomes “one nation, undivided” once again.  We have become so polarized over the past two decades, that we are in need of much healing.  My prayer is for peace, for contentment, and for happiness for ALL.

God Bless!

The Twelve Days of Christmas

“On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me a partridge in a pear tree.”    

• On December 25, God sent to me Jesus.

“On the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me two turtle doves . . . .”

• On December 26, God sent to me the Old Testament and the New Testament.

“On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me three french hens . . . .”

• On December 27, God sent to me the Holy Trinity — God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

“On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me four calling birds . . . .”

• On December 28, God sent to me the Four Gospels — Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

“On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me five golden rings . . . .”

• On December 29, God sent to me the Five Books of Moses/Torah/Pentateuch — Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.

“On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me six geese a laying . . . .”

• On December 30, God sent to me the six days of creation.

“On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me seven swans a-swimming . . . .”

• On December 31, God sent to me the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven Catholic sacraments.

“On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me eight maids a-milking . . . .”

• On January 1, God sent to me the eight Beatitudes.

“On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me nine ladies dancing . . . .”

• On January 2, God sent to me the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit — Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Generosity, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self-control.

“On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me ten lords a-leaping . . . .”

• On January 3, God sent to me the Ten Commandments.

“On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me eleven pipers piping . . . .”

• On January 4, God sent to me the eleven faithful apostles.

“On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me twelve drummers drumming . . . .”

• On January 5, God sent to me the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle’s Creed.

Yes, The Twelve Days of Christmas is more than a cute, nonsensical song.  The Season of Advent is the four weeks leading up to Christmas; the Christmas Season does not begin until Christmas Day and lasts for twelve days, until Epiphany on January 6.  Each of the twelve days is considered a Feast day of a particular saint — different denominations might celebrate different saints or the saints may have been changed by the Church at various times throughout history.

Whether or not the song was once used as a secret code to teach Catholic children the catechism at a time when Catholicism was outlawed in England, is doubtful.  I believe the song may have been a fun means of learning the tenets of the Christian faith, but the rest of the story is pure folklore.  The song is more likely to be just a secular Christmas carol, much like “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”, with no religious origins.

Advent is a season of hope and of longing, of joyful expectation and of peaceful preparation for the coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.  Christmas is a joyous time, twelve days to celebrate the birth of Jesus, leading up to Epiphany, when we traditionally celebrate the Magi bringing gifts to the [toddler], Jesus.

In the modern secular world, December 26 begins the rush to return unwanted Christmas gifts and to seek out the best “after-Christmas” sales.  Many people and businesses begin to remove their Christmas decorations, having put away most of the twinkling beauty before New Year’s Day.  When I was growing up, in the 1950s and 1960s, the secular “Christmas Season” did not begin until after Thanksgiving.  It seems, now, that stores begin displaying Christmas decorations around Halloween, if not before.  Our modern day society has completely lost the true meaning of Christmas.

Because my family has always been devout, we follow the liturgical calendar in giving observance to Holy Days, including Christmas.  My Irish mom did not allow a day to pass without us giving thanks to God for all His blessings.  Christmas and Easter were the most important holidays, or Holy Days, in our home — yes, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny did visit, but we knew from a very young age why we were celebrating.  We observed the important days of Advent and Christmas — the Christmas tree and other decorations were put up about a week before Christmas and they were never removed until Epiphany, January 6, which signifies the end of the Christmas season.

As I write this, we are three days past Christmas — how many of you have already taken down your tree and put away the decorations?  How many of you are aware that the Christmas Season has just begun and will continue for another nine days, until January 6?  How many of you are observing the feast days of the Christmas season?  Today is the Feast of the Holy Innocents which, ironically, comes exactly two weeks after the slaughter of innocent children in Newtown, CT.   Today, I attended Mass to remember all the innocent children — the children in Newtown and the children who died to protect the Christ child.

Let us remember to rejoice in the coming of our Lord, Jesus the Christ, who came to save the world! Let us remember that today, December 28, is the fourth day of Christmas.

Family Love

Christmas.  What a glorious time of year when we choose to spend time with our families, celebrating the birth of Christ.  Secular Christians also celebrate Christmas, even when they forget the “reason for the season.”  Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, atheists — although they do not celebrate Christmas, it is impossible to not be influenced by the largest denomination in the world.  The Gregorian calendar, used worldwide, in which it is the year 2012 evokes the birth of Jesus; according to the Hebrew calendar, it is the year 5773 not 2012.  Schools close for a week or two around Christmas and many businesses close for a few days so their employees may spend more time with their families.  Whether Christian or another denomination or no religious denomination, this is a time of year for families to travel to be together

My family is extremely close — if not in proximity then emotionally.  My parents were both born in Ireland and immigrated as young children to the United States with their parents and some of their older siblings.  There were three families who made the long journey across the Atlantic, and then across the vast United States, before settling in a small town on  the West Coast.  O’Malley, Donahue, Ryan — can you think of more Irish sounding surnames?  My parents were the youngest of their clans, along with another friend who grew up to be our family priest.  Joe, Mary, and Mike were frequently called The Three Musketeers.  Most of their extended families remained behind in Ireland.  The year was 1920 — long distance telephone calls across the Atlantic Ocean were much too expensive, cables were sent only in an emergency, and there was no instantaneous e-mail.  Letters.  Letters which were written once a week, and took up to three weeks to reach their destinations, were the only communication my grandparents had with their older children and their extended families.  Imagine how cherished each of those letters must have been to the people who received them.  It would be several years before other members of the three families began to sail to the United States — money was tight and it would take many years of hard work, and  scrimping and saving, to be able to afford the passage.

Joe and Mary grew up, graduated from college, married, and began their family; Mike grew up and was ordained a Roman Catholic priest.  Other than college and seminary, none of them moved from the small town in which their families had settled upon immigrating to the United States.  Close.  Close knit.  Tight.  Supportive.  Joe and Mary had six children — I am the youngest.  Mike returned home to be our parish priest where he baptized each of us, performed the wedding ceremonies of my siblings and their spouses, he was our spiritual leader, our friend, and our “uncle.”  Father Mike was like a second father to me.

A month after my fifth birthday, I contracted polio — a dreaded disease before the vaccine became readily available in 1955.  The family was quarantined, I was hospitalized and separated from my family, my mom was able to visit only once a week, but Father Mike was permitted to visit me every day.  Polio is something I rarely discuss — it is painful, both physically and emotionally.  However, polio became a part of who I am and surviving it influenced many of the decisions I have made as an adult.

I left home at 18 — to attend college, seminary, graduate school, and post-graduate school.  With the exception of two years, in the early 1990s, I have lived away from my family for over 40 years.  Initially, I left home to attain my education, but each time I returned home to visit, I realized that I would always be the “little brother.”  The sickly little brother who, by the way, threw away the braces and crutches to become an athlete.  I recovered and I never looked back until many years later.  I never looked back, but my older brothers and sisters couldn’t help but smother me with their love.  Knowing I would never marry, they thought it their duty to take care of me.  Funny, but with God’s guidance and with my friend, Jesus, walking beside me, I thought I could take care of myself.

I have lived on the West Coast, the East Coast, Eastern Europe immediately after the fall of Communism, and the Intermountain West. I have lived as far as 10,000 miles from my family but never closer than 400 miles.  I have lived within a Jesuit community, I have lived as a missionary in a foreign land, I have lived alone, I have had nephews live with me while they attend college.  And, the cripple does just fine.  Oops!  I have been reprimanded for using that word — disabled, handicapped, differently abled.  All are labels that seem negative so I just use whatever label speaks to me at the moment.

Yes, I am disabled.  I recovered from that initial bout of polio, tossing the crutches and braces in the trash by the time I was 10.  Other than one leg being slightly shorter than the other, I had no noticble residual effects of the polio.  By inserting a lift in my shoe, no one was the wiser that I had ever been sick.  I could run and play with my friends, my cousins, my siblings.  I could climb trees, I could ski, I played baseball on my high school and college teams.  Polio did not hold me back or slow me down.  Until I got sick again.  I had been living in Eastern Europe where polio had not been completely eradicated.  This time, I didn’t recover quite as well as the first time.  I couldn’t walk without assistance,  I couldn’t run and play, I couldn’t ski, I couldn’t climb trees.  I needed to use a wheelchair.

I lived with my parents for two years while I recovered and pondered where God was leading me.  Realizing I, once again, or still, was going to be the sickly little brother, I knew I had to escape or be smothered.  So, I headed east to teach at a university in a town where close friends had moved a few years earlier.  And, here I have lived for almost 20 years.  I move around campus under my own power, I drive, I play wheelchair basketball, I ski on a mono ski, I “run” in 5Ks and 10Ks, I have even been known to “hike” in the mountains on accessible trails.  Life is good.  Life is grand.

My family is the best.  They know why I escaped.  They know I need my space and I need to be independent.  They know they love me, dare I say,  too much.  I go home twice a year — Christmas and for a month in the summer.  They come to visit me several times a year and we talk on the phone or email a few times a week.  We are as tightly knit as ever, but I can breathe by living 800 miles from my hometown.

I am so very blessed to have the family I do.  They love me.  They love me unconditionally.  They support me in the decisions I make.  They have been there for me through thick and thin — when I have been sick and when I am healthy.  They allow me to make my own decisions.  I know they worry about me.  I know they will forever think of me as the little brother.  But, I also know how much I am loved and how much I love all of my family.