Bob Rice

An Impromptu Half Marathon

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 11:27:20 -0500

Two weeks ago I was in Phoenix at a Youth Ministry training conference. It was Friday night and someone mentioned to me that the Rock and Roll Marathon was in town that weekend. The Expo was just across the street from where I would be presenting the next day. So on Saturday I signed up to run the half marathon and then on Sunday I did it!

My previous time for a half marathon was 2:15, but I figured if I got anything under 2:30 I’d be happy. My final time? 2 hours and 43 seconds. Yeah, that’s more than a minute off per mile. I was really excited!

My experience of running this impromptu half marathon was much deeper than just a physical accomplishment. It reflected something that God’s been saying to me for the past few months:

“At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. The wise ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps. The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.
“At midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’
“Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’
“‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’
“But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.
“Later the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’
“But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour. (Matthew 25:1-13)

The message of the parable is obvious: you have to be ready for Lord to come. Nobody can be “ready” for you.

Though the context of the parable (and the 25th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel) is the Second Coming, this parable also finds application in our daily lives. Christ comes to us in many ways: through joys and sufferings, through strangers and friends, through the sacraments and the secular. The question is, are you ready for Him? How is your lamp doing?

This parable reminds me of something St. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians: “When people are saying, ‘Peace and security,’ then sudden disaster comes upon them, like labor pains upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. But you, brothers, are not in darkness for that day to overtake you like a thief.” (1 Thessalonians 5:3)

God asks us to be ready, not to scare us, but because we “are not in darkness.” Let the fools of the world live for the present moment and think there is nothing more to life. As “children of the Light” we know there is more than working at our jobs, balancing checkbooks, taking kids to various activities, etc. All those things will pass but the glory of God will never change.

How was I able to run a half marathon on 36 hours notice and get the best time I’ve ever had? It wasn’t luck. It’s because a few months ago I got frustrated that every time I signed up for a race, something would happen that I couldn’t run it (I had to cancel two previous half marathons last year!) So I decided that I would practice every week as if I was preparing to do a half marathon, so that when one happened I could jump into it.

Of course, I figured I’d have a few weeks notice, not less than two days! But when my friend told me that the marathon was happening in town, I got very excited because I knew I could do it. Though I was surprised it was happening, I was ready for it.

I pray that my soul is as ready to respond to Christ as my body was ready to run that half marathon.

Milestones

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 09:25:00 -0500

On Thursday, I’m turing 40. My wife asked me if I wanted an “Over The Hill” cake! Of course, I opted for a Star Wars cake instead (Wal Mart didn’t have any Doctor Who cakes available.)

While I don’t think of 40 as being old, it is a milestone. As a runner, I love milestones. They are a distinct moment in a journey that lets me know where I am in the run and how I’m doing on my pace.

Coming up to the big four-oh, I think about the other milestones in my life. Obviously, the birth (or adoption) of each of my kids comes to mind. I think about when I was 33 and started teaching at Franciscan. I think about when I was 25 and got married. I think about graduating high school when I was 18 and receiving my first communion when I was 8.

Yes, I’ve come a long way since I was a kid (I have way more hair.) But one thing hasn’t changed: my human dignity. I propose to you that the intrinsic value of my life has not changed at being 40, 33, 25, 18, 8, or 4 months in the womb.

No matter how old we are or what we’ve done, we are all sacred in the eyes of God, made in His image and likeness. And to celebrate that, I’m in Washington DC today with my three oldest sons to be a part of the March for Life. I pray that our country would respect life from the beginning: from the moment of conception.

I know that many of you aren’t able to make the trip, but I hope you would take sometime today and pray for an end to abortion and for the healing of those who are (or have been) involved with it.

Also pray for the healing of our country. The abortion issue has sharply divided many people of good will. I don’t consider anyone who is pro-choice as my “enemy.” I strongly disagree with them, but respectfully so. Many people who are pro-choice are concerned for the rights of the pregnant woman and don’t feel the government should infringe on her decisions. Since I generally feel that the government should do what it needs to and then stay out of the rest of our lives, I have sympathy for that line of thinking.

But I have a greater sympathy for the life that woman is carrying. We need to create a culture that sees life as a blessing, not a burden—that welcomes a new life with a celebration, not a condemnation. I’ve heard some pro-choice people argue that Christians themselves are at fault for the “necessity” of abortion because we make an unmarried pregnant teenager feel like they are wearing a scarlet A on their chest (or in this case, stomach) for the “sin” of getting pregnant.

I can tell you in my own experience that has never been the case. As a youth minister, we had a few teens who got pregnant and we supported them with love. But I’m not naive enough to say that’s the way it always works. And many times, the “judgmental” stereotype about Christians is so strong (often enforced by the secular media) that a young person won’t even give their Christian community a chance. So they make a pre-emptive strike against the rejection they may or may not receive from their family or community. Sometimes, what they fear is actually true—their family wouldn’t accept them or their faith community would reject them if they found out (my heart breaks to think of how many teenage girls felt pressured by their parents to get an abortion!) But the collateral damage of that decision is the life of their child and, in many cases, the woman herself.

Abortion can be a complicated issue. But that doesn’t mean we should lose sight of this simple truth: Life begins at the moment of conception and should be allowed to naturally grow and live his or her life with the same rights that we all have.

I’m excited to celebrate my fortieth birthday on Thursday. But since abortion was legalized in 1973 there have been over 50 million babies who didn’t get a chance to celebrate their first. Let us ask for their prayers today, knowing that if they had a chance to be here, they’d be marching in Washington DC today, too.

The Toolbox of the Holy Spirit

Mon, 16 Jan 2012 14:02:20 -0500

Many times we ask the Holy Spirit to help us when we're about to give a talk or do some holy work. I know that was my prayer as I headed to Phoenix to give workshops to catechists this past weekend. But as I was preparing a talk on "Holy Spirit, Converter of Hearts," it struck me how backwards that prayer was.

The Holy Spirit doesn't need to help me. That's because the ministry I do is not mine, but His. It's not about me looking good in front of others and having them speak well of me. So when I pray, "Help me, Holy Spirit, to give a good talk about you," I'm subtly suggesting that I'm in charge, that I'm the one who is really doing the work. It's as though I treat the third person of the Most Holy Trinity as my assistant.

What's actually occurs is that the Holy Spirit does the work and I am the assistant. And though He doesn't need me (remember when Jesus said if his disciples didn't cry out that the very stones would shout?) he allows me to help Him because He loves me so very much. It's like a father letting a son help him fix something on the car—the dad could do it better and three times as fast but he loves the opportunity to do something with his child.

I could never proclaim the gospel more effectively than a shouting stone. But thankfully, God loves me more than He does the rocks!

So in my life I have a new prayer. It's no longer, "Holy Spirit, help me." It's "Holy Spirit, use me."

It's important to know that the Holy Spirit can only use what we give Him. That's why it is essential that we spend time in prayer, memorize Scripture, study the faith, and continue to advance in our gifts and talents.

Consider this: when St. Peter stood up during the Pentecost speech and quoted the prophet Joel, do you think that was the first time he heard that Scripture verse? That the Holy Spirit "possessed" him and had him speak things that he didn't know?

I propose to you that wasn't the case. Peter was a faithful Jew, accustomed to praying over the Scriptures. He knew that verse—he just didn't know what it meant until that moment. Because St. Peter was intimate with the Scriptures, the Holy Spirit used that knowledge to proclaim the gospel message that day.

In my experience, though Holy Spirit can anoint the gifts and talents we have to give glory to God, He rarely creates them on the spot. I've never seen someone who has never practiced guitar to pick one up and perfectly play a song of praise for the Lord. I've never heard someone who hasn't prayed over the Scriptures to open their mouth and start quoting them verbatim. While I don't doubt that miracles like these have happened, it's not the normal way the Holy Spirit operates.

What he most often does is that He takes what we give Him. That's why it's so important to give Him everything we can and work hard to get better at the things we are talented with. As a musician, I want to be the best musician possible so He can use that talent for His glory. As a evangelist and catechist, I want to continue to study the faith so I can proclaim it more boldly. As a writer, I want to hone my skills so I can communicate the love of God more clearly.

In short, I want to be a toolbox for the Holy Spirit. I want to offer Him a lot of different talents that He can use to bring about conversion in the hearts of those who are present. I don't want to be a one-trick pony, nor do I want to let my "tools" grow rusty and dull.

It is the greatest joy in my life that the Holy Spirit uses me to share the love of God with others. But it is His work, not mine. It is for His glory.

In my almost 20 years of ministry, I have never converted a heart to the Lord. Not a single one. But I'm humbled to say, and rejoice in the fact, that the Holy Spirit has used my gifts to build His kingdom and bring glory to God.

So pray over the Scriptures. Read the Catechism. Receive the sacraments more frequently. Spend more time in prayer. Practice your instrument. Work on your drawings. Study science. Dance better. Run faster. Write more clearly. Listen more intently. Love more passionately.

Then offer these gifts to God, remembering that you are the tool and He is the craftsman. You are the instrument and He, the master musician. He is not our assistant. We are His servants.

Humbly pray, "Holy Spirit, use me." And watch how He takes our ordinary talents and uses them for extraordinary things.

To God be all the glory!
___________________________________________________________

IN OTHER NEWS: I’m very excited to be involved in a number of new projects this year, the biggest of which is writing my doctorate! The downside is I need to cut back from some other things to do that, and I’ve decided to make my twice-a-week blog a once-a-week blog. I think I’ll keep them on Mondays.

I am so honored and privileged that you read this blog! I love the occasional emails or likes on Facebook that encourage me to keep writing them. Please let me know if you’ve been blessed by something I’ve written, and I hope to keep writing good stuff in the future.

The Hard Work of Prayer

Mon, 9 Jan 2012 16:03:12 -0500

Prayer is hard.

I think sometimes we take that statement for granted. The Catechism refers to prayer as "a battle" and many saints have written about the struggles involved with it.

Prayer is simple, but simple should not be confused for "easy." Let's take running for example. It was a popular analogy that St. Paul used for the spiritual life. Running is a very simple activity: you run. It's not without some complexity—you have to eat right, know how to stretch, and have a incremental plan to run farther or faster (or both.) Having the right equipment is also a plus. But essentially, running is a basic action that achieves results by the repetitive nature of putting one foot in front of the other at various speeds and distances. Simple!

I ran a marathon in 2007 and it was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. Simple? Yes. Easy? No!

We live in a society that makes "hard" a bad word. The phrase, "no pain, no gain," has been replaced with, "no pain, no pain." Maybe as you began to read this blog you found the phrase, "Prayer is hard" to be a negative statement.

It's not. Because the best things in life are hard.

I've been playing guitar for over twenty years. In the beginning, like Bryan Adams, I played until my fingers bled. It felt like forever to get my digits to go in the right places on the neck of that guitar. But I vividly remember the day in high school when it clicked. I was in my bedroom in Hinsdale, Illinois, playing Good Lovin', a particularly tricky song for a young player because it requires G, C, and D chords in rapid succession. But suddenly... it worked! Without looking down, my fingers knew exactly where to go. My guitar felt no longer like a clumsy instrument over my shoulder but instead became an extension of my arm, doing exactly what I willed it to do.

Lately, I've been playing accordion. I've forgotten how hard it is to learn, I mean really learn how to play a new instrument. Yes, I can fake a few songs. But I'm trying to learn the craft, step by step, and hope to be proficient at it someday. It's hard to do, but it's exciting.

Learning a new instrument, running farther distances... there are lots of other analogies that you can use. But the bottom line is that there are no short cuts on these things. You only get results by lots and lots of hard work.

The spiritual life is no different. We can read the thoughts of holy men and women, but that doesn't make us holy. Continually studying a map doesn't get us closer to our destination. Yes, the map is important, but only if we are willing to take the journey of prayer.
And prayer is hard. It requires continual commitment. It demands the fulness of our attention—a real challenge in a world that teaches us to multitask our time. It rarely achieves a quick result, but its power is revealed over time. It can be done neither casually or conveniently.

I would go so far to say that in our culture of multi-tasking, instant gratification, self-centeredness, and consumerism that prayer is one of the hardest things that we can do today. But that shouldn't surprise us, should it? The message of Christ has always been contrary to the world. Secular culture has always been more keen to listen to satan than the Savior.

In the early Church, Christians were subjected to torture and execution. Today, we face media and social communication: the anti-prayer. We are lulled into complacency and taught that the world should revolve around our own desires. No wonder we find it to difficult to engage in an activity that is so challenging and humbling.

Prayer is hard. Simply put, there's no app for that. No saint has ever found a short cut, though many sinners have tried.

In the beginning of every new year, many people make commitments to better their life: save money, lose weight, give up an addiction, etc. I challenge you to make a commitment to the hard work of prayer. Don't wait until Ash Wednesday to evaluate your spiritual life—you can miss a lot of grace between now and then. There is no more important thing you can do than commit yourself to daily prayer, and there is no better time to do it than right now.

Pray for me so I can keep fighting the battle of prayer. And know that I'm praying for you, too.

Doing the Will of God

Thu, 5 Jan 2012 09:54:50 -0500

Yesterday was the feast day of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, the first American born saint. Today is the feast day of St. John Neumann, a missionary to America who was bishop of Philadelphia. Two American saints in two days! USA! USA!

Sorry for the patriotic tangent. Back to St. Elizabeth...

Yesterday’s Office of Readings had an excerpt of a talk she gave to the religious order she founded. She told them that her “great help” was understanding that “an interior life means but the continuation of the Savior’s life in us... and what was the first rule of our Savior’s life? You know it was to do his Father’s will.”

It reminded me of something I read in Ralph Martin’s excellent book, The Fulfillment of All Desire. “What the journey is all about is uniting our will with God’s will, wanting what He wants, loving what He loves, living a life that in all its aspects honors Him and gives Him glory.”

It also reminded me of another one of my favorite books, Abandonment to Divine Providence: “Perfection consists in doing the will of God.”

It’s a theme in every spiritual writer. It was the prayer of Jesus in the garden. It is the goal for everyone who struggles for holiness.

St. Elizabeth gives us three insights in what it means “do his Father’s will.”

1) Understand that “our daily work is to do the will of God.” There is nothing more pressing, more urgent, or more important. Doing what God commands is not something we should put off until later—it needs to be at the top of our “to do” list.

How do we know what is God’s will? For St. Elizabeth, it was simple. “I know what his will is by those who direct me; what ever they bid me do, if it is ever so small in itself, is the will of God for me.” Sometimes we think that God is calling us to grandiose actions. But the reality is He wants us to be simple. As a husband and father, I need to attend to the needs of my wife and children. As a professor, I need to have classes prepared and help students learn. We need to simply and lovingly be obedient to those who direct us. As Christ Himself said, “If you are faithful in little things, you will be faithful in large ones.” (Luke 16:10)

2) We should do God’s will in the same way that Jesus did it. St. Elizabeth said, “Our dear Savior was never in extremes.” Her example of this was that we should not “(sew) and old thing as if it were new, or a new thing as if it were old; not fretting because the oven is too hot, or in a fuss because it is too cold.” We live in such an OCD society that we can tend to worry and fret about everything. But Jesus neither worried nor fretted. In fact, He said, “Do not be anxious about life... seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness.” (Matthew 6:25,33)

1) Do His will for it’s own sake. Sometimes we don’t understand the will of God, or we feel that His plans for us contradict our plans for the day. St. Elizabeth tells us that we should be “ready to quit at any moment and to do anything else to which you may be called.” I think of this every time one of our kids gets sick and Jennie has to disregard all the things she planned on getting done that day to take care of our child. At the end of the day, she’ll say to me, “Joey was sick today so I didn’t get anything done.” And I’ll tell her, “Actually, you got a lot done today—it just wasn’t what you planned to do.” The challenge is not about doing God’s will and doing our will. It’s just about doing God’s will and trusting He will take care of the rest.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that my prayer isn’t about changing God’s mind as much as it’s about changing my heart. Instead of me trying to get Him to do what I want, my time in prayer softens my heart to accept what He desires. A common antiphon in the Liturgy of the Hours is, “Incline my heart according to Your will, O God.” It’s a prayer I often say.

I’ve also learned that God wants me to do well at work, pay the bills, and fix things around the house. It is a incorrect stereotype to think that if we fully surrender to God’s will we will end up in a monastery somewhere devoting our entire lives to prayer. Yes, there are a few who are called to that kind of life. But for most of us, our holiness is lived out in our families, among our friends, and at our places of work.

I think the biggest obstacle in doing God’s will is trusting God’s will. The Catechism tells us that the first sin in the garden was based on a “lack of trust in God’s goodness.” So let us all be comforted by the words of Jeremiah:

“I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for woe, plans to give you a future of hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

Incline our hearts according to Your will, O God!

Found in Translation

Mon, 2 Jan 2012 09:12:31 -0500

Dr. Miletic, a Scripture scholar I work with at Franciscan, is known for telling his students that, “translations are of the devil.” He uses that hyperbole to emphasize how difficult it is to move a concept or idea from one language to another. The best way to understand Scripture is to read Greek and Hebrew. The best way to understand the liturgy is to know Latin. But since asking the world to rejuvenate a “dead language” isn’t a realistic option, it’s important that our translations as accurate as possible.

I real appreciate all those who called for and created this new translation of the liturgy. Now that we’ve had a chance to pray the new words for over a month, here are three things that really stand out to me that I love about the new translation:

The tense is correct. I’m not a Latin scholar, but even I know that “CREDO” means “I believe,” not, “we believe.” Another thing that I’m glad is gone is, “Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ has come again.” Looking at the Latin, it’s hard to see where this even came from. It’s not that the idea is bad, but the tense is all off. The entire liturgical prayer is to God, not about God. Talking about Christ in the third person at that moment in the liturgy was weird. I mean, Bob Rice doesn’t talk about myself in third person, does Bob?

To some that might seem like a small change, but when you’re passionate about something, a small change can be a HUGE change. Like when Lucas changed the special edition of Star Wars to have Greedo shoot first. We all know Han shot first.

Mea Culpa. The three fold repetition of “for my fault” while beating the breast has become a cultural expression that goes beyond the liturgy. I think it’s fantastic that something from Mass became vernacular in the mainstream and I’m glad to have it back where it belongs.

The Gloria. This is something I’ve only gotten to appreciate recently, as we didn’t sing the gloria in advent. I’m really touched by how prayerful it is. For example, the “old” translation said:

Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Father, Lord God, Lamb of God
You take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us
You are seated at the right hand of the Father, receive our prayer

But our new, more accurate translation, says:

Lord Jesus Christ, Only Begotten Son,
Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father,
You take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us;
You take away the sins of the world, hear our prayer;
You are seated at the right hand of the Father, have mercy on us

As a song writer, I know that repetition gives emphasis. I love the repetition of “you take away the sins of the world” and “have mercy on us,” something that was omitted from the previous translation. Now the Gloria has more focus on God’s mercy. And that’s a great thing!

The Dismissal. We have more options! Instead of the traditional, “The Mass has ended, go in peace,” the priest could also say:

Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord

or

Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life

When I hear these said at the end of the liturgy, it reminds me that I need to take what I’ve received in Mass into the world outside. And I’m thankful for all the reminders I can get.

So I really love everything about the new translation... except for one thing.

Lord, I am not worthy to receive you. I’ll be honest, I miss it.

To St. Ambrose

Fri, 30 Dec 2011 09:21:49 -0500

To my friends and family at St. Ambrose,

It was seven years ago that I left you to teach at Franciscan University. It was seven years before that when I arrived at St. Ambrose, ready to start my first full time job as a youth minister.

I was thrilled to see so many of you a few weeks ago when I came in to do a parish mission. Thomas Wolfe once wrote, “You can’t go home again.” And to be honest, I was a bit nervous getting on the plane to Albany from Pittsburgh. Would it be awkward? Would it still feel like home?

While obviously some things have changed over the past seven years, the heart of St. Ambrose—which is all the wonderful people there—hasn’t. It was great to catch up with old friends and former teens who were in the program back in the day (many of whom are married now!)

I just want you all to know how much my time at St. Ambrose meant to me, and how it will always hold a special place in my heart. When I was 17, my family moved from the house I grew up in and I spent the next seven years bouncing between dorm rooms, apartments, and rented houses, never having a place that I could truly call, “home.” Until I came to St. Ambrose.

Jennie and I had been married for only a few weeks when we arrived there. It would be only a few months later when we suffered the miscarriage of our first child. The outpouring of love and support from the parish community was overwhelming. And though we were burdened with the grief of that tragedy, we rejoiced to be a part of such a supportive family.

And then there was the ministry. The nutty, over-the-top, insane ministry! I was filled with crazy ideas, and you went along with... most of them. Now that I’m older, I really appreciate the times you said no! (And for the record, I would like to finally concede that having Mark Trudeau come in at the end of Mass, dressed as Tarzan, with the decapitated head of Barney on his spear, was not a good idea. You were right, and I’m glad we didn’t do it... but the zip line would have worked!)

But beyond the crazy outfits and fun trips we took, we also changed lives. We shared the Gospel and young people responded. To this day I still get emails from teens in our program who share how their experience in our youth group was a turning point in their lives, and how much of what they do today is because of what they experienced back then.

Of course, God gets all the glory for those changed hearts! But God looks for people who can say “yes” to His saving work. And you said “yes.” It was a joy and honor to do ministry with you.

St. Ambrose LIFE TEEN 2011 looks different than St. Ambrose LIFE TEEN 1999. But that’s to be expected—youth culture changes and ministry to youth changes with it. But for all of you involved in the ministry back when I was there, I want you to know that your hard work and prayers not only lives on in the lives we touched, but also in the students I teach today.

My students are regaled with stories from St. Ambrose LIFE TEEN. I talk about the highs and lows, the successes and failures, the tragedies and the joys of those seven years. Working with a parish staff, building up a core of adult volunteers, reaching out to teenagers... I feel like I could write a Robert Fulghumish book titled, “All I really needed to know about youth ministry I learned at St. Ambrose.”

One of the biggest things I stress to my students is to find a community that fits their skills and spirituality. Many students are so concerned with graduating and student loans that they only look at the specifics of a job and forget to ask the more important question: can I call this place my home?

I consider it one of the greatest blessings in my life to have found a home at St. Ambrose. You made me feel welcome on the first day I visited, and I felt that same love again when I came back a few weeks ago. Thank you for being more than just a place where I worked and where Jennie and I began our new married life. You are our family, and will always be close to our heart.

Love,

The Rices

The Cradle and the Cross

Mon, 26 Dec 2011 07:25:34 -0500

Today we celebrate the feast of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr. Whereas it might seem strange to celebrate the cruel death of a just man only a day after celebrating the long awaited birth of a holy child, the Church gives us this feast as a sober reminder that the “peace” the angels proclaimed was not for our bodies, but for our souls.

This theme is continued on Wednesday when we remember the “Holy Innocents.” These are the babies who were slaughtered by King Herod when he heard the newborn King was born in Bethlehem. The Light of the World came into our darkness, and the darkness responded with violence.

Over two thousand years later, the darkness, impotent to win the final war, still rages against those who come to bring their gifts before the Lord. On Christmas Day in Nigeria, 39 people were killed and many more injured as Islamic militants firebombed Christian Churches. Their memories of this day will not be what they had for dinner or what presents were under the tree. This was the day when people in their Church community, and even people in their family, were seriously injured or killed because they publicly celebrated their faith.

All of this is just a reminder that the Christmas celebrated by Western culture is not the same as the Christmas celebrated by people of faith.

Western culture would like us to turn Christmas into a secular family holiday, a more spiritual version of Thanksgiving. It’s about the days getting longer, peace on earth, and goodwill toward all. It’s about getting along with your neighbor and doing a good deed for a stranger. It’s about believing there is something magical about the season that draws us all together.

In and of themselves, none of these are bad things. It’s just that’s not what Christmas is about.

Christmas is about the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us. It’s about a sinful humanity, doomed for hell, desperately needing a Savior. It’s about the second person of the Trinity who chose to be born in poverty and become a member of an oppressed people, knowing full well that while His life began on the wood of the cradle, it would end on the wood of the cross. The inn at Bethlehem did not have enough room for Him at His birth; the tomb in Jerusalem did not have enough power to hold him at His resurrection.

In light of the true meaning of Christmas, the “Christmas of Western Culture” is a pale comparison, a poor counterfeit. The world offers us a “Christmas Lite” in exchange for tolerance and lots of shopping.

In this Christmas season, I pray you celebrate the Christmas of Christ and not of culture. It’s not that that family isn’t important, or that giving gifts is a compromise with the consumerism of the season. It’s just that Christmas is more than a birthday party, more than a family celebration.

And it’s also more than just one day.

For the next two weeks, the Church continues to celebrate the events surrounding Christ’s birth. Today we remember St. Stephen. Tomorrow we’ll celebrate St. John, the evangelist who told us about the Word who became flesh. Wednesday we will celebrate the Holy Innocents. Friday we will celebrate the Holy Family, and on Sunday (when many in the world will be hungover from the night before) we will celebrate Mary, the Mother of God, the one who’s “yes” brought our Savior into the world. A week later, the Magi will come to bring their gifts on the feast of Epiphany, followed by John baptizing the adult Jesus—the beginning of ordinary time.

I encourage you to pray through the readings of each day’s Mass, and join the Church as she remembers what truly happened when eternity stepped into time and God came to the world that He created. Our faithful celebration of the Christmas season is what distinguishes us from the “hangover” mentality of Christian culture. There is more of the story to be told. The meaning of the mystery is not exhausted.

And it’s still not too late to say... Merry Christmas.

The Doctor and Blessed Duns Scotus

Thu, 8 Dec 2011 11:24:10 -0500

What does The Doctor and Blessed Duns Scotus have in common?

Some of you might be wondering “Who is The Doctor?” or “Who is Blessed Duns Scotus?” The Doctor is the lead character in the BBC show, “Doctor Who.” He’s a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey who journeys through time and space with human companions. Blessed Duns Scotus was a Franciscan Friar who was originally from Scotland and taught at the prestigious University of Paris in the late 13th century.

While there are many dissimilarities between The Doctor and Blessed Duns Scotus (one of the most obvious being that The Doctor is a fictitious character and Blessed Scotus is real) they do share one thing in common:

Time travel.

Blessed Duns Scotus gave us our theological understanding of the great feast we celebrate today, the feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary. The Church had always believed that Mary was conceived without sin but no one could explain how. Blessed Duns Scotus proposed that Mary was saved by the blood of the cross, but outside of linear time. It was through the Paschal Mystery (the suffering, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ) that she was able to be born free of sin, even though the Immaculate Conception happened before the Paschal Mystery.

This isn’t so strange as it sounds. The Church believes that though the Paschal Mystery happened in the course of human history, it also transcends it. This is why it’s called the Paschal Mystery, not the Paschal Event. Every liturgy we celebrate is a participation in the Paschal Mystery. At the Eucharistic altar, Christ is not re-crucified. We participate in the one sacrifice He made 2000 years ago. So just as with every Mass we travel back in time to participate in Christ’s sacrifice, God moved his saving grace back in time so Mary could be conceived without sin.

So Mary, like all of us, needed the grace of God for her salvation. It just happened in a different way for her, because she had a very unique (and privileged) role in God’s plan.

By the way, only three humans (without a divine nature) have been conceived without original sin. Adam and Eve were the first, but they didn’t do a great job of it. Remember: to be conceived without sin doesn’t mean you are free from temptation or that you won’t sin. But Mary did it right! That is why the Church teaches that Mary is the New Eve (just as Jesus is the New Adam.)

Over five hundred years later, when Pope Pius IX declared the Immaculate Conception as an official dogma of the Catholic Church, he explained the theology of the Immaculate Conception using Blessed Duns Scotus’s words.

I don’t think Pius IX used the phrase “time travel,” but then again my Latin isn’t that great.

So on this great feast day, let us praise God for allowing Mary to be conceived without sin, let us venerate our Blessed Mother who lived a pure life and who’s “yes” overcame Eve’s “no,” and let us also say a prayer of thanks for Blessed Duns Scotus who explained it to us.

PS. I took way to much time photoshopping the image that accompanies this blog, so before you move on to checking facebook and watching kitten videos, could you just look at it a second or two longer? Thanks.

“Daddy!”

Mon, 5 Dec 2011 09:18:47 -0500

One of the greatest joys in my life is to be called, “Daddy.”

I remember when I was younger I noticed that other people called my father, “George.” “Why do they call you that?” I asked him one day.

“Because that’s my name. Just like Bob is your name,” he explained.

I thought about this for a second and asked, “So can I call you George?”

He shook his head. “No, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

I remember he knelt down so he was on the same level as me, and looked me right in the eye. “Because you and your sister are the only two people in the whole world who can call me dad. It’s very special.”

Years later, as I come home and my kids yell out, “Daddy’s home!”, I still think about that lesson my father taught me. These are the only six people in the world who call me by that title.

It’s very special.

I’ve appreciated that even more with our adopted son, Joey. I take for granted that the other kids would call me dad. I’ve been their father from the moment of their conception. But not so with Joey. As he approaches his fourth birthday, I realize I’ve only been his father for a little less than half his life.

So it’s that much more special when Joey’s eyes twinkle, his smile gets big, and he throws his arms open and cries out, “Daddy!”

I’m so amazed that I get to be Joey’s dad that I find myself frequently asking him, “Who’s your daddy?” Normally he says, “You are!” But yesterday he didn’t.

Last time I asked, he got quiet and looked away. So I asked him again. No answer.

“Joey, am I your daddy?” I asked, trying to help him out.

“No,” he said with a pout. “You’re not my daddy.”

Part of me knew he was just being contrary, a typical three year old action. But I’ll be honest—it was also a bit of a stab in my heart.

I tried not to overreact. “C’mon, Joey. You know I’m your daddy, right?”

“No!” he said. “You’re not!”

I took some deep breaths. Part of me thought to just walk away and leave him in his bad mood, or maybe just change the subject. But I really wanted to hear him say it.

“Okay, then. Who’s your daddy?”

He looked away and mumbled something.

“What did you say? Look at me when you’re talking to me.” (I say that a lot to him.)

He looked at me with big brown eyes and a mopey expression. “Buzz Lightyear.”

I shook my head. “Buzz Lightyear is not your daddy,” I said with a smile. 
He began to smile, too. “Spiderman,” he said.

“Spiderman is your daddy?”

His smile got bigger. “Yes!”

“I don’t think so.” And I began to tickle him. He screamed with delight.

“Who’s your daddy?” I asked him.

“You are,” he said, still laughing.

I tickled him some more. “Who’s your daddy?”

“YOU ARE!” he said with a big smile. Then he opened his arms and gave me a hug.

As I held him in my arms, I felt like crying. I don’t know why—I was an ordinary moment. But sometimes it’s the ordinary moments in life that are truly extraordinary.

I reflected later on how moving it is for a dad to be called “Father” from an adopted son. And maybe that’s why Jesus told us to say “Our Father” whenever we pray.

“I Wished To Make Them Better.”

Thu, 1 Dec 2011 10:05:22 -0500

After hearing a performance of Handel’s Messiah, Lord Kinnoull complimented the composer on the “noble entertainment” he had brought to the people of the town.

Handel responded, “I should be sorry if I only entertained them. I wished to make them better.”

I read that quote on Monday and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

As I blogged earlier, two weekends ago I was at the National Catholic Youth Convention. It’s an every-other-year event that gathers over 20,000 teens from across America. But even more impressing than the large numbers of teens who attended were the group of performers and entertainers that came to minister to them. Singers, musicians, jugglers, painters, dancers, film makers, and comedians spoke/sang/danced/painted at various workshops, coffee houses, and general sessions that made up the conference.

I am proud to call many of those performers my friends. I am amazed not only by their talent but by their passion to make a difference in a teen’s life. Even at the NCYC Comedy Club (which I helped organize) everyone had a positive message to share. Nobody wanted to just get laughs. They wanted to get laughs and make a difference.

It takes a lot of talent to give an entertaining message without sounding preachy. I try to accomplish that when I go out and do ministry, but it’s easy to err on one side or the other. Finding that “sweet spot” is a subjective call. The reactions from a large group of people usually fall on the line of a bell shaped curve. A few think there was too much content; others think there wasn’t enough. But hopefully most are touched by what I did.

While many can’t grasp the rational language the Church uses to explain God (our culture is more about feeling than rational thought) everyone can understand the power of a dramatic story, a beautiful song, a funny joke, or a piece of art. This is a imporant medium because most people today don’t want to be educated, they want to be entertained. I’m not saying that’s a good thing—it isn’t. But it’s reality. As a culture, we are addicted to amusement.

And while I think we need to use more art and entertainment to proclaim the Gospel, those who do so (like me) ought not to think too highly of themselves. When I heard the quote from Handel I immediately thought of a quote from one of my favorite singer/songwriters, Rich Mullins:

“It's so funny being a Christian musician. It always scares me when people think so highly of Christian music, Contemporary Christian music especially. Because I kinda go, I know a lot of us, and we don't know jack about anything. Not that I don't want you to buy our records and come to our concerts. I sure do. But you should come for entertainment. If you really want spiritual nourishment, you should go to church...you should read the Scriptures.”

At first glance, this quote might seem to contradict Handel or my reflections above. But I don’t think so. It just gives it a different perspective. Rich was a very humble guy (he passed away in 1997.) He wasn’t trying to be more than he was. He was a Christian musician, an entertainer. As a Protestant, he saw that many people were exchanging Church for concerts—and that many of his contemporaries were encouraging that trend. He knew that, though what he did gave glory to God, it wasn’t a replacement for going to church or reading the Scriptures. And from a Catholic perspective, we can add “sacraments” to that list.

I think all of us who “entertain” with a Catholic message should remember that what we do on stage is nothing in comparison to what is done on the altar, and our message is only meaningful if it connects to the Mass.

When it comes to the ministry I do, I want to do more than entertain. I want to make people better—by pointing the way to the Author of Life. But I don’t want to think too highly of myself, either. The world would keep turning without the things I say, the music I sing, or the stuff I write. God would still be enthroned in glory.

The ministry I get to do isn’t a gift to Him, it’s His gift to me. And I’m constantly humbled by all that I get to do for His name.