“Tax Collector at Prayer” Pastel drawing by Ronald Raab, CSC 2016

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Gospel LK 18:9-14

“Black and White Redemption” Painting by: Ronald Raab, CSC

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March 22, 2020

Fourth Sunday in Lent

Dear Believers in the Christ,

The Lenten journey takes us on the path where we meet a blind man in John 9:1-41. Last week we met the Woman at the Well. She invited us into the central image of our baptism; water of course. Today, blindness, sight and insight, are also images of baptism from the early Church. After all, baptism is a new way of seeing the world. If only we could really see the beauty of our relationship with Christ and see the beauty of his followers. Baptism changes are worldly and spiritual views. We are never alone in God, for we belong to him and we rest at his side. This is what I want to see, to really see with my own heart.

Jesus walks along and sees this man blind from birth. In those days, such disability was usually associated with sin. It must have been sin if the man was less than perfect. Of course, today, we do not connect sin and disability. Disability is sheer humanity for we are all in need of new life. Sometimes things just don’t work out as we once planned.

We may come to understand our need for God when we know our own blindness, our stubbornness of sight, and our inability to see from the perspectives of strangers. We are all blind in countless ways. We can’t see when our entire vision is only upon ourselves. Blindness so often comes from being self-absorbed, from our selfishness, and our ignorance. We are blind when we think we possess all the answers in life, when we rage at those with varying opinions or when we think prejudice is justified. Blindness speaks volumes.

Jesus touches him. Not with clean hands, but with his own salvia and clay. He creates a messy compress to place on his eyes. He applies this healing mixture with gentleness. He touches his disability with such care and tenderness. Jesus cares for him through touch. He lays his hands on him in a lovely mixture of earth, saliva and humanness. I don’t know about you, but I want Jesus to touch my blindness in such a way. I wait to feel his hand on my eyes and my cheek. I want his fingers to rub hope deeply upon my skin and into my soul. I am blind, just like everyone else.

Jesus invokes squawking of the elders by healing a man on the Sabbath. Here is another example where Jesus is teaching us that people are more important than the rules of religion. He wants others to see the beauty of his man who now has vision. This vision also teaches others who are blind about who Jesus really is. No matter our lives of faith, we must be willing to see that nothing stands in the way of Jesus touching our humanity. Blindness becomes a vehicle for us to see Jesus. Our blindness may very well become the way in which we can view our mistakes, our sins, our wrong doings and our emotional stumbling blocks, in a new vision of Jesus’ love for us. If we could only see the truth that Jesus has for us in him. In Lent, blindness becomes a gift.

When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, he found him and said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered and said, “Who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?”
Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, the one speaking with you is he.” He said,
“I do believe, Lord,” and he worshiped him.

We are on the journey, engaged in our spiritual quest, for sight and insight. This is the Lenten season, our ability to truly see.

Blessings,
Fr. Ron

“Saint Joseph” Painting by: Ronald Raab, CSC Originally published in AIM Magazine 2017

Saint Joseph, Pray for us in our times of fear!

Gospel MT 1:16, 18-21, 24A

Jesus,

I stockpile my worries.

I hoard fear within me.

My childhood boogie man is under my bed.

I crate fear.

I store more fear than toilet paper.

My 401k melts before my eyes,

My children play innocently in the next room.

Not sure how I will support them.

I want the carefree souls they have.

I am jealous as hell.

I am afraid for those I love.

I fear death’s dark day.

My neighbor’s Christmas lights shine again.

I can’t see the light at the end.

I can’t see the glimmer within me.

I want to purchase another gun

But I know I can’t protect myself with weapons.

I am ready for a HAZMAT suit

But it will not protect my restless heart.

I fear my isolation.

I don’t know how to spend my time.

I want to look beyond me

But I am hoarding food.

Let other people earn their bread.

I want mine.

I want everything.

I deserve everything I own.

I blame politicians.

I blame God.

I blame the sneeze.

I blame the cough.

I blame my neighbor’s handshake.

I blame the media.

I blame the doctors.

I blame the fear.

I blame.

I can’t go to a movie.

I can’t watch sports.

I can’t shop for clothes.

I can’t even go to church.

Jesus, where can I go?

I know. I know. I don’t want to admit it.

I can go to you.

For protection,

For hope,

For love,

For creativity,

For a generous spirit,

For a way of giving and not hoarding,

For seeing beyond my entitlement,

Seeing that all my stuff is illusion.

Jesus,

I know. These are unique days.

These are the weeks

To give you time to love me.

I know.

You will change my heart

And welcome my hand to serve others.

Amen

My Dear Believers,

Mercy is at our door. As church doors are temporarily latched out of concern for people’s health, the gospel opens up our call to remain fully present to our loved ones.

We are in uncharted waters. Fears bundle in our hearts. Concern for people living alone surface in our thoughts. People with heart conditions or people who are going through chemotherapy remain vulnerable to illness. People who suffer depression are at the center of our thoughts because fear can be so overwhelming. People are frightened about job loss, about providing for their families. People who normally struggle to make ends meet are now blanketed with constant worry about tomorrow.

This is a Lent like no other. Could this be the Lent we have even given up Jesus? On the surface it certainly seems so. However, we know who we are. We are people who follow the Master to the cross and to the empty tomb. We are the people who hold tight to love. We are believers who know within our hearts that mercy and forgiveness become real in difficult times. We remain one in Christ and community is still our home.

In this Lent, the world is facing the Cross of Christ. We have choices to make today. Even though we are fasting even from the Eucharist, we still need to sort through our experiences and feed on Jesus’ healing love. We experience the Cross of Christ not as a pietistic sentiment, but as a deep and profound reality of who we are as baptized Christians. We are the Body of Christ broken to be shared so others may know love and forgiveness.

So let’s use this experience of isolation as retreat, with profound reflection, and settle into Jesus Christ. I invite you to continue to find quiet time in this retreat. Perhaps in such time of prayer, offer your wringing hands to God. Offer your frustrations about people who are physically and emotionally vulnerable about this disease. Offer to God your fear about whether or not you will be paid for your jobs. Pray my friends, please.

Now is the time to huddle with your family and especially your children. Perhaps this is the time of deeper conversation. Please, talk with your kids. Tell them in an emotional embrace that you love them. Reassure those who live under your roof that hope is at the door. For heaven’s sake, during this unique moment, reassess your relationship with your children.

In this time of profound isolation, reach out to friends on the phone or Skype or any other way in which you can hear the voices of people who love you. Listen as well to the voice of Jesus in the Scriptures, in your usual prayers or Novenas or within nature. But for your sake, listen. God is planting deep longing within us. This is the time where grace is being given in what seems like a dormant, isolating uncertainty. Listen, my friends to the sound of love that is underneath our fear.

Today’s gospel challenges us to forgive. Perhaps the work of the scriptures is unfolding within us in ways we least expect. Make sure you are taking time to reflect on the gospel for the Mass each day. Click here for a link to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops website to find the sacred readings for each day.

I know this is a time of sleepless nights for many people. Parents face job loss.  Health care workers serve the reality of human disease.  Panic about food. People living with depression face even greater isolation. Real life is our prayer.

I pray we may continue to be one in Christ, even in the confines of our homes, even when fear knocks so strongly at the door. Seek Christ. Only love unlocks fear.

From the Lorica of Saint Patrick

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,

Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ on my right, Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,

Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in the eye that sees me, Christ in the ear that hears me.

Blessings on this Saint Patrick’s Day,

Fr. Ron

Here is Pope Francis’ prayer united with Mary during this time of illness:

“The Woman at the Well” Painting by: Ronald Raab, CSC 2020

(Since we cannot pray these prayers together at Mass, please pray them in the quiet of your life and heart. We remain one in prayer even when we are separated. As we proclaim the encounter of the Woman at the Well and Jesus’ thirst, we must fast from his Real Presence. Pray for everyone who thirsts for such communion.)

March 15, 2020

Third Sunday of Lent

We pray for all who lead us in faith, Francis our Pope and Michael our bishop. God, allow mercy to be on the lips of our leaders, and may they find joy in your presence.

We pray to the Lord.

We pray for those who feel they do not belong in family or church. God, invite all people to your well of love so they may experience your peace.

We pray to the Lord.

We pray for forgiveness to wash away past guilt. God, shower us with mercy and bring us all into your glorious presence of love.

We pray to the Lord.

We pray for all whose bodies are broken with illness and disease. God, heal the hearts, the minds, and souls of the emotionally weary and physically sick.

We pray to the Lord.

We pray for all who have given up on life. God, receive the lives of people in depression and help the members of our family to live from their gifts and talents.

We pray to the Lord.

We pray for all who have died. God, receive the souls and lives of our friends and family members. In this Mass…

We pray to the Lord.

Reading of gospel and homily for this weekend. Please CLICK here. 

The Prodigal Son, Painting by: Ronald Raab, CSC 2017

Today’s gospel from Luke invites us to examine family life.

Part of us understands the young son who desires to break away from his tradition to discover his own voice, his budding gifts, and his desire to put his own spin on his life in the world. Many of us have experienced these years of struggle growing up.

There is also a piece of our hearts that feel the deep resentment of the older son. Many of us can also relate to him because we have stood next to those we love and so often feel invisible to our parents or our spouse or our children. The older son’s fidelity becomes jagged with tension, resentment and bitterness. Faithfulness reveals ongoing turmoil. Life is not easy; it is not black and white.

The father awakens my heart today. He stood along the road and looked ahead, waiting for this son’s return. The father’s posture, his attitude, and his heart all took the long view. From the long view, the son and the father were united. Mercy found a home in each of them. Love became deeper and more meaningful, mending time and hurt.

Today would have been my own father’s 100 birthday. I am amazed how time heals and offers perspective. Time slips away in the moment but the long view invites beauty and care.

Today, how do you deal with your family conflicts? Is it possible to look toward the long view of life? Can the hurts settle and your heart become quiet? Is it possible today to run toward love for all who most need you?

We are in the long view of God. He waits for us so dearly.