Please note: Advent begins November 29, 2020. I will post a daily audio homily for the four weeks of Advent, as I did during the Lenten season. I hope you will listen as we yearn for hope in our world. The theme of my Advent reflections: Advent: On the ground of hope.
CLICK HERE To read the complete bulletin for November 15, 2020
33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
My dear followers of Jesus,
Today’s gospel, Matthew 25: 14-30 opens a door for our reflection on the gift of life, how we are responsible for it, and how we return the treasure God has given us. We are all given talents, not in money like the parable states, but in the gift of our humanity. As we soon close out another liturgical year, we reflect upon the value of what God gives us in our hearts, in our lives, and in all relationships.
I realize this is a year most of us would like to forget. Even though we cannot control every outcome of our lives, life is still sheer gift. We have a responsibility for the many talents, loves, and beauties God gives us, not only as individuals, but as Church. In November, we take stock of life as we prepare for end times. How we live today, reveals our happy death and God’s eternal love for us.
So, what if your life ended today? What have you done with your incredible, beautiful, loving life? What are the regrets that harm you? What are the moments that give you joy and exuberance? What are the things that cling to your sense of guilt or shame? How can you turn your sorrow into joy in your reflection?
God is not in our lives to condemn us; God is brought into our hearts so to heal us and offer us forgiveness. I meet people every day who think God hates them, because of petty sin or things they just cannot let go of or heal. This reveals the importance of living a spiritual life that is vital and authentic. If we have been reflecting all along on God’s mercy, then we shall know Jesus in our pain, our regret and our sin. If we have not lived in Him, then in the end, we will think our lives are useless and sinful. I pray we may all find God, in good days and in bad.
About forty years ago, one of our Holy Cross priests was going to build a chapel at our retreat center at Notre Dame. He sent every person on his list of donors a $5.00 bill. He gave them instructions to use the money to benefit the new building. Over the course of a few months, the people made five dollars into many thousands. He built a new chapel that is still standing and used today. We have many gifts and many ways to increase what God has already given us. We are instruments of divine love in our world and it is up to us to spread the Good News.
No matter where you are on the spiritual journey, I hope you can use your life and your life work for the common good. Who knows what God has in mind for you? Now is the time for you to explore the grace given you and how you have lived such grace. You can still multiply the benefits and gifts God has given you with love and generosity.
In today’s second reading from 1Thes 5:1-6, we here that the Lord will come like a thief in the night. We are to remain sober and alert. We are to stand in the dark and yearn for the coming light of Christ. I pray that we may all have that hope in the end. I pray for courage as we learn to rebuild from a pandemic and live with hope that things can be reborn, and our priorities expanded. God is in our world and in each and every heart. What a treasured gift.
“For to everyone who has, more will be given, and he will grow rich…”
God give you peace,
Fr. Ron
November 10, 2020
Holy Cross Cemetery: A November Reflection, Part 7
Yesterday, I celebrated my 65th birthday. A lovely moment of reflection during pandemic. Texts pinged and calls rang throughout the day. Being seated with a friend for lunch and others for dinner helped me digest the reality of getting older and coming closer to being myself in the world. I am less a stranger to myself in my mid-sixties.
I strolled through our cemetery again, this time, not in person. In that soil lies a paradise of reflection, where my imagination sees the smiles, the intentions, the books written, the sermons preached, of my ancestors. That cemetery is a cave of mystery, that I know I need to enter, so that I may still walk on this earth knowing the relationships that have formed me. On this soil, hope springs up through the autumn oak leaves and the smell of winter approaching.
I first journeyed to Fr. John’s cement cross. He died at 64. High noon on Easter. He listened to me rant and rave for nearly nine years. He was so patient with me. Now, I wish, we could sit together. I would tell him that I have relaxed a bit in my own skin. I would shake his hand, even during a pandemic, and thank him for revealing to me the face of Jesus. I am calmer now. There is deeper prayer, a fearlessness, that resides in me now at 65, just past his earthly life.
I needed to rest at Fr. Jim’s grave. He was an artist. He was a man of few words. So, when he spoke, I listened as best as I could. When I was in the novitiate, the first class at Cascade, CO, a classmate and I created a banner for our makeshift chapel. Everything we needed there, we had to create. The first class paved the way. When we finished the banner, sewing together silks and linens and assorted colors from remnants for Lent and Easter, another priest stared at our creation.
The other priest said to us, “Who would waste their time doing something like that?” Well, my classmate and I were taken aback as we hung our creativity on the wall for prayer. The priest who bent our pride was a mountain climber.
Later, I told this story to Fr. Jim. He eased the tension in me with these words, “A man may climb a mountain because it is there. Another man creates art because it is not.” I have hung on to these words for over forty years. Those words have become a banner of love. I climb the mystery of my creativity because others before me dared to scale such a mountain. The creative paths inside are just as treacherous and are so often hidden. I rest my art in the lives of those who believed their art was from the creating efforts of God.
The mountains are outside my window in Colorado. However, a large charcoal drawing from Fr. Jim of a woman holding her son dying of AIDS, hangs in my living room. I am constantly walking into the unknown, the ways in which Jesus leads me. I so often think falsely that I am in control of my life. Life and art are lovely journeys.
Several years ago, Fr. Jim was in the first stages of dementia. One summer, he took me to his large, cluttered studio. We toured mountains of drawings, sculptures and unfinished works. As we unearthed tools, plans, and scraps of note paper in his messy cabinets, I purposely asked him questions to help him track the past. He pointed to the tools he used to create, to the works themselves, to proto-types and sketches, because his words were fleeting. He did not always have words to connect the art to his ideas or commissions or his hope that I would learn to scale such a mystery.
As I watch in my mind that story unfold again, I revere the sacredness of his art and his life. He invited me into unknown places of the soul. Those mountains need exploration. They need skill and attention. Most of all, life and art, are only revealed in prayer. Yesterday, on my birthday, I realized once again, that he passed on to me a desire to create with God, what is not.
CLICK HERE to pre-order “The Stations of the Cross in Atonement for Abuse the the Healing of All” from Liturgical Press, Collegeville, MN. Commentary is written by Fr. Paul Turner and illustrated by Fr. Ronald Raab, CSC. The book will be published in mid-December, 2020.
This video was published this weekend in our Flocknote for our Sacred Heart Parish community.
Last November I wrote a series of reflections about our Holy Cross Cemetery at Notre Dame. You can find them from November 2019 on my blog. Here is a reflection for 2020.
CLICK here to read the recent obituaries from our CSC website.
I visited Holy Cross cemetery at Notre Dame during Labor Day weekend.
I did not need a mask to visit my brothers.
However, two of our men from our province died of COVID-19 this year. Fr. Gene served in Bangladesh for many years and is buried among us at Notre Dame. Fr. Bob served in Chile and died of the pandemic.
Archbishop Costa in Chittagong, Bangladesh also died of this world-wide disease. Even a bishop is vulnerable to such illness and the common denominator of death. He is buried in Bangladesh.
I remember Fr. Bob well from the 1970’s. He was tall in stature. His life as a missionary loomed large at the table in the seminary refectory. He would visit family once a year with a stop-off at the seminary for some rest. He is laid to rest among other giants who gave everything to the world-wide Church. A missionary of God has to have strong shoulders.
I stopped and prayed at Fr. Bill’s headstone. He was one of my pastors. He loved Jesus. Bill cracked me up. Thursday was his day off. He always golfed. One Friday, my day off, I asked him if he had ever been to an art museum in Los Angeles. He quipped, “Gosh, Ron, it has never rained that hard on a Thursday.” I loved him. He always desired to preach from his true relationship with Jesus.
Fr. David died at 55 this year. His large family prepared him to live and serve among young people at Notre Dame. He was pastor of Sacred Heart Church. I prayed to the Sacred Heart the day he died, since I know what it means to rely on the mercy, the heart- warmth, of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. He loved the color orange. I noticed a pair of orange framed sunglasses on his tombstone. I pray he sees the truth of his life and the bountiful presence of Jesus.
The line of tombstones has grown long since I first entered the community as a freshman in 1974. As I strolled along the line of crosses, I stopped at Fr. John’s. He died in 1980. I cared for him at Holy Cross in 1976-77. I sure have been thinking about him lately.
The first time I entered his room, I was drawn to his body curled up in bed. Silence seemed to be his partner and his prayer. As I raised my eyes and glanced around the room, I was so struck that he did not have a single possession of his own in the room. He was unable to care for himself. Yet, he did not have a token or prayer card or photograph in the room that could remind him of his life and priesthood.
As a young religious, I was taken aback by the starkness of the room. I could not image why no one had surrounded him with a few reminders of who he was and the people he had ministered among in his life. I felt in my heart the poverty of his life. As I left the room, I touched the bareness of the cold walls.
A few months ago, as I was praying about him, something happened. A new insight swept by my heart like an oak leaf carried by the autumn wind in the cemetery. I realized that Fr. John’s prayer had readied him to go home. He had shed his possessions and was open for Jesus’ invitation. I had imposed my youthful notions on a holy man. As I cared for his body, he had already done the work of letting go. I see this now only in my sixties.
Every time I visit this cemetery, the stories become so real again. My teachers never quit reminding me to hold fast to Jesus. I pray to let go of youthful pride and befriend the journey home.
After my September visit to the cemetery, I put on a mask and celebrated our men who were ordained deacons and priests that autumn day at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart.
CLICK HERE to read complete bulletin for this weekend.
32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Dear Believers in the Kingdom,
In Matthew’s text today for Mass, the ten virgins are waiting for the bride groom. “Stay awake!” is the call and command not only for them but for us as we come to the conclusion of another liturgical year in a couple of weeks. Being ready for the Kingdom is our real goal here on earth. The conclusion of the liturgical year is a metaphor for the end of time, not only for our own individual lives, but for the end of life as we know it. Death for the believer is not a threat, not something we dismiss or shun. The end, of course, is our real home with God.
The ten virgins argue about having enough oil for the lamps. I believe this is a metaphor that no one can help another person prepare for the Kingdom. The virgins wanted the other virgins to share the oil. They said no. That is because people need to find their own way to God and to prepare for God in their own ways.
In other words, the work of life and most especially of death, is up to each of us. We all die alone, no matter the money we have saved or how many family members surround our death bed or the power and authority we have accumulated in life. The act of death is a matter of our individual souls. We can either fear death or push it out of our minds and then postpone our preparation until our last breath. We are sure to settle into fear if we push such reflection down the road. Life is incredibly beautiful and so is death. The virgins hold up a lantern to help us find the light as well.
In the sacred liturgy, we have remembered All Saints and All Souls in this past week. Throughout the month of November, images, prayers, metaphors and love help us heal our grief and carry on our lives. I love this month when the Church offers us opportunities to remember that Christ’s passion, death and resurrection become the pattern we all face in life. We cannot escape death nor the grief we feel when a loved one is welcomed home. Death is fuel for faith. God’s love is the beginning of wisdom.
In my ministry, I encounter many people who fear death. Their lives are full of rage because they cannot control every aspect of living here on earth. I remember an aunt of mine who lost a son in his prime. She never got over his death. She never gave herself permission to let go of him. No other person could help her or save her from such grief as losing a child. That was also in an era where people seldom grieved in public nor even behind closed doors. She grew more and more angry at life, her relatives and friends. Bitterness takes hold when grief is squelched in a soul.
The Old Testament reading from Mass today gives us the goal of perspective and of age and maturity. Wisdom. How beautiful to find wisdom in our lives if we truly trust in the mystery of life, of God, and the beauty of death. Wisdom is resplendent and unfading. Wisdom is revealed upon our asking and makes itself known at dawn. So, when we are faced with profound grief, weariness of life, and when life does not turn out as we had planned, wisdom becomes a cushion to rest our souls. Wisdom happens when our hearts are open, when we have the courage to reflect on life and trust God in prayer. Real wisdom happens in the second half of life. The virgins in the gospel were either foolish or wise.
I pray for such a gift in everyone in our parish, that wisdom may calm the uproars of violence. I pray wisdom may put out the flames of mistrust and hatred among us. I pray we may face the consequences of our own lives so we may be freed with wisdom to live lives of integrity and justice. Wisdom takes a heart that is ready for life beyond our own. Selfishness and self-sufficiency squelch a wise heart. Wisdom is the result of humility and tenderness as we face even the harshest of realities, even death itself.
“Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day or the hour.”
God give you peace,
Fr. Ron
CLICK here to read the complete bulletin for this weekend.
Dear Followers of Jesus,
Today is All Saint’s Day. This year, November 1, falls on Sunday. So, we celebrate the gift of our saints in Christ Jesus in our Sunday Masses. I love the official catalogue of canonized saints. I take great consolation in their commitment. I am inspired by their lives here on earth. Some saints are quirky, and many may even seem weird. Yet, they all gave their lives to God in the ways in which they were called to love and serve.
The saint is really someone here on earth who discovers love of God and love of neighbor. Saints discover an intentional life, that is, they pray in the moment, they love with integrity and they act with great discernment. Saints reveal that a relationship with God is absolutely possible here on earth. They learned in the deepest places of their hearts to trust God, to surrender everything to the mystery of God’s love for them. The amazing thing about saints is that we can’t imitate their lives. We can learn from them about God’s fidelity and grace, but to imitate them exactly does not make us saints. We have to do the work of prayer in our own lives. In other words, we can’t live someone else’s life. That does not make us a saint.
The only way into the depths of God’s love and fidelity is to live the truth of our own lives. This may take us years to discover. Theresa of Avila and Oscar Romero show us that it takes many years to finally realize our call and act upon such a reality. Some people know it early in life or give up all they possess in order to carve a new path. Francis of Assisi is such an example. Mary Magdalene had the privilege of gazing into the eyes of Jesus and many other saints came to know the face of Christ in the poor, the suffering or disabled. Some saints are intellects and some are hermits. Some are clerics and some are widows. Each life on earth is a mystery, and each life on earth has the potential of becoming a mystic, that is a person who realizes that God’s love is the guide for his or her life. In many ways, each of us is called to become a mystic, to live a life of prayer and service and to realize that God is our true identity.
The road map to becoming a saint is today’s gospel, Matthew 5: 1-12. The Beatitudes are always read on All Saint’s Day. We may hear this gospel at a funeral or even an ordination. These Beatitudes are the commandments of Jesus given to the disciples in his voice on the side of a mountain. They are often overlooked as a path to holiness because they are not as dogmatic as the Ten Commandments. This list is centered on Christ Jesus and at its core is love. Love is often dismissed as a way to faith because it is often seen as only romantic silliness. However, this list gives us the real mission of the Church. This list is far more difficult than the Ten Commandments.
The Beatitudes offer us a path to heaven and a saintly life here on earth. They do so because they first lift up the poor. They affirm our challenge to offer mercy and not hatred, love and not violence. This list is the most radical statement of faith in the gospels and it is the list that is seldom trusted or made real. It changes not only hearts, but society and the world. It overthrows what we may think life should be and what justice is all about. It turns the tables on our notions of how to live and how to survive in society. Perhaps the Beatitudes are the reason why there are so few saints today, because at first glance, they turn life inside out.
How difficult today it is to act mercifully. Mercy after all is not a commodity; it is a result of knowing God from within our hearts. We can’t manufacture mercy or peace or comfort toward the grieving. The Beatitudes are lived in hearts that first know and understand the fidelity of God. The Beatitudes carve an empty place within our hearts only to be filled with God’s love, integrity and power. These words from Jesus are radical and the concepts are countercultural. Yet, they remain a blueprint for sainthood.
We all desire to live in the love God has for each of us. We can’t duplicate a life set free in God’s faithfulness nor can we copy exactly how God desires us to serve and to act in our Church and world. The fire of faith is given to each of us as God desires. Collectively in the Church, we call people who know such fire, saints. We celebrate such a gift and mystery this day on the Solemnity of All Saints.
“Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.”
God give you peace,
Fr. Ron Raab, CSC, Pastor
Broken But Not Divided 