Great Minds of the 21st Century

SLU basketball coach Rick Majerus continues to embarrass his employer by his ill-advised comments about religion. You may recall that he ran afoul of the Archbishop of St. Louis by telling Channel 4 reporter Mike O'Connell that he supports abortion and embryonic stem cell research. Rather than apologize when he had the chance, he basically thumbed his nose at the Archbishop and Catholic doctrine, in effect declaring himself the pope of the church of rick. SLU president Larry Biandi, rejected Archbishop Burkes's suggestion that he discipline his loose-canon coach.

Now he's taken on the Mormons. As a former coach of the University of Utah, he's well aware of Mormon beliefs. When asked by radio sportscaster Dan Patrick to choose a winner in last week's NCAA tournament game between Brigham Young University and Texas A & M, he chose A & M, saying"A&M. I don't like BYU from my Utah days. The magic underwear Mitt and those guys send themselves."

The so-called "magic underwear" is a garment Mormon's wear to remind themselves to be chaste. Making fun of their religious garment is considered highly offensive. It will be interesting to see if Biondi intervenes in this one. Obviously many Mormon's are outraged.

If you reject Christianity, don't join the church

I came across this article from John Robson, writing for the Ottowa Sun. I have to share it here without comment, because there's nothing I can add to it.

Published: Friday, March 21, 2008

It's Easter and time for the annual journalistic display of baffled hostility to Christianity. On cue the Roman Catholic archbishop of Ottawa, Terrence Prendergast, pops up with the suggestion that adherents to his church who don't actually observe its rules should not expect to enjoy all the benefits of membership. A predictable chorus of howls erupted.

The archbishop might be forgiven for wondering why. No one would think themselves entitled to join a chess club but refuse to move bits of plastic around an 8x8 square board. If they insisted on denouncing the game as a colossal waste of time for losers who couldn't get a date using the Benoni counter-gambit (purely hypothetically, you understand), or showed up and played trumpet instead of chess, club officials would try to reason with them but, if that failed, would insist that they depart. And no one would think it odd. What, then, is so hard to grasp about the Catholic Church being a voluntary organization with rules that are meant to be enforced?

Remember, people who say they are Roman Catholics necessarily claim to believe the Pope is the heir of St. Peter to whom Christ gave the keys of the kingdom. This belief may be false or even foolish. But it's no secret. And Canada is a free country so you are free to reject it. The one thing you can't do is reject the authority of the Bishop of Rome yet remain in his Church, any more than you can go to a chess club and deny that its bishops move diagonally.

It is especially pitiful to hear politicians say they are obliged to represent their constituents, not their faith. They wouldn't say that about their economic beliefs, and you'd think salvation mattered more than stagflation. An honest and lucid man would surely tell voters he holds certain fundamental beliefs that entail certain policy positions, and he'd invite only those who share most or all of those positions to vote for him.

Roman Catholics would then say they oppose abortion on religious grounds and welcome the votes of anyone who, for whatever reason, is also pro-life. Atheists or agnostics would say they don't know what God wants, if anything, but here are their policies; members of some faiths could say they think God is cool with abortion and so are they. In each case there would be no taint of hypocrisy. But anyone who says they know what God wants, they just don't care, is acting like an idiot and should be denied political power on that basis alone.

Especially as Easter seems a particularly propitious time to ask whether your soul is not more important than your seat in Parliament. Certainly it's a lot more permanent. Only if the result of this soul-searching is negative, if you conclude that winning an election is more important than standing up for things you claim to believe are the will of God almighty, creator of heaven and earth and our judge when time itself has ended, is it appropriate to say although I am Catholic I will govern as an atheist. In which case you're in a pretty feeble position to object if sternly excommunicated.

There is nothing oppressive about this statement. The Inquisition put away the thumbscrews years ago. No one is suggesting introducing theocracy, making it mandatory to join the Roman Catholic Church, or illegal to oppose its teachings in print or on the stump, provided you have a willing audience. They're simply saying you have no more right to make those arguments within the Church, physically or metaphysically, than to insist on playing jazz in a chess club.

Why would you even want to? I can understand a politician lying about religion to deceive the public, but that can hardly be the motive today. I don't imagine that one voter in five knows Stephen Harper's religion (Protestant), let alone cares. And in any event, if politicians were pretending to be Catholic to win votes, they'd presumably feign adherence to Church teachings. Something else is going on, and it's not pretty.

What scandalizes moderns about the church, I think, is not what it believes but simply that it believes. We are perfectly at ease with Christian clergy who deny the divinity of Christ or the resurrection, don druid suits and praise shariah law, or claim they can be at the same time priests and imams. Just as we are happy to give tenure to academics who proclaim that there is no truth, and give large fees to artists who insist that their works do not communicate or uplift and are not meant to. But we are baffled that the Pope is Catholic and if you don't like it you need to find, or found, another church.

So get all those bishops out of my way, and rooks. I'm gonna sing, loud and flat.

© The Ottawa Citizen 2008

Easter Sunday

Easter and Christmas are the very epitome of our Church’s liturgical year. The birth of our savior and his glorious resurrection into heaven are the greatest events in our Christian history.

I heard a commercial the other day where the announcer says, It‘s not a very good commercial because I don‘t remember what they were selling, but the announcer says, “If you found something this good, wouldn’t you want to tell everybody you know?” Naturally they want you to say “yes, I would”. That’s how I feel standing here today. I have found something good and I do want to tell everybody I know.

Here’s what I’ve found. It’s the ultimate reality show. It’s bigger than Survivor. It’s bigger than American Idol. It’s even bigger than The Biggest Loser. And it plays out right here, and in every Catholic Church in the world, every single Sunday. We don’t even charge you to get in. It’s called Sunday mass.

And it’s an action-packed story. Just in these last ninety days, we’ve celebrated the Feast of the Holy Family, with Jesus, Mary, and Joseph fleeing to Egypt to avoid Herod’s order that all male children be killed. Then, after Herod’s death, the family returns to Nazareth.

On January 1, we celebrated the Feast of Mary, Mother of God. We heard of the shepherd’s coming into Bethlehem to reveal what the Angel had told them about the infant Jesus.

Just five days later, we celebrated the Epiphany, the coming of the magi to do homage to the newborn king. They brought Him gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Herod tried to use the visitors to find out where the child was, but a dream warned them not to return to Herod. They left town by another way.

Then we fast-forwarded to a the time when Jesus was an adult. He meets John the Baptist and asks to be baptized. John protests that he’s not worthy of baptizing the Lord, but Jesus insists and when He comes up from the water, the sky opens up, the spirit of God descends on Him and a voice from heaven says “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

Over the next few weeks we heard about John the Baptist’s imprisonment, and Jesus’ calling his disciples. We’ve heard Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount where He gave us the Beatitudes.

During the last six weeks of Lent, we’ve prepared for the Lord’s death and resurrection. We’ve gone with Him into the desert, we’ve seen his transfiguration, with that same Voice from heaven telling us again, “This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased.”

In His meeting with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, Jesus tells us that He’s living water. When he restores the blind man’s sight, He tells us that He’s the light of the world. Then He brings Lazarus back to life, telling us, “I am the resurrection and the life, whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”

The last seven days, Holy Week, have brought the story full circle. Last Sunday, Jesus entered Jerusalem in triumph. The people threw palm branches in his path shouting “Hosanna to the Son of David, blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest! Before the week was out, these same people would yell “Crucify Him!”
He was scourged, beaten, humiliated, then nailed to a cross until He died.

But, before He died, He made Himself available to us through the Eucharist. He knew that those original disciples had the advantage of His physical presence. What about us? How could we experience His Real Presence after He physically left us? He took care of that on Holy Thursday. He said, “This is My Body. This is my Blood. Do this in memory of me”.

Receiving this wonderful gift, the Real Presence of our Lord and Savior, should be more than enough of a reason to come to mass. If the Word is the cake, the Eucharist is the icing.

So, here we are on Easter Sunday, the most Glorious day of all. He’s defeated death! He’s risen from the grave! By doing that, He didn’t just save Himself but He made it possible for you and I to be saved too. He died for our sins. We don’t have to be afraid of death because we can live forever in paradise.

But, that’s not the end. It’s really just the beginning. The drama continues next Sunday, and every Sunday until the end of time. And, even though the readings repeat every three years, no two Sundays are ever the same. That’s because we’re part of the story. You and I are just as much a part of this reality show as the people we read about every Sunday.

See, Jesus knew you and me before we were ever born. The story of His life, the Greatest Story Ever Told, is our story, too. My family has been part of this parish for a long time, 33 years next month. Compared to some of you that makes us newcomers. But it’s still a third of a century. In that time we’ve seen the parish change. It’s gone through cycles. When we had a school we had lots of young families. When the school closed, a lot of them left, leaving us a more mature parish. Nowwe’re seeing more young families again.

There have been rumors about our parish closing as long as I can remember, even back when our oldest son, who’s now almost 35, started school. “Don’t send him there”, they told us, “They’re getting ready to close.“

But we’ve proved them wrong, celebrating our 60th anniversary last year. And that’s thanks to you. You’re St. Bernadette parish. Not this building. Not the grounds. You. We pray for one another when we’re sick. We comfort one another when necessary, and celebrate together whenever we can. Your presence here every Sunday is a big part of our on-going story--your presence and your participation.

Sometimes you’ll hear someone say, “I don’t get anything out of the mass.” Could it be because that person doesn’t put anything into it? C’mon. Would we go to a baseball game without at least checking the standings, maybe reading that morning’s newspaper, or going to the team’s web site to get an idea of what’s going on with the teams? When you get to the game, do you cheer the good plays? Do you stand and sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”? Or do you just sit there silently?

Would you spend your hard-earned money to go to a movie that you’ve never heard of? Wouldn’t you at least check out the ads and see what the critics have to say ? Do you get emotionally involved in the story, or are you just a silent observer, taking it all in, but not investing any of yourself into the story?

So, what about mass? Do you check ahead of time to see what the readings are? Do you come early so you can go over the readings again and ask God to help you get the most out of the mass? Or do you read the bulletin? During the mass, do you join in the songs and the prayers? If not, you’re missing something. The mass isn’t just a reality show. It’s all about audience participation.

Today is the pinnacle! This is the summit! Jesus has climbed Everest and taken us with him! But the story goes on. This early Easter means that it’s 9 months and 2 days until we celebrate Christmas. That’s a long time. We’ve seen the highlights, Now it’s time to fill in the gaps in the story, preparing for the beginning of Advent on November 30.

During the upcoming Easter season, reading mostly from John’s Gospel and from the Acts of the Apostles. We’ll follow the events that took place after Jesus’ resurrection. We’ll hear how our Church was formed and how it grew. On April 20, the 5th Sunday of Easter, we’ll hear how the Apostles chose the first deacons, one of my personal favorites. We’ll wrap up the Easter season with Christ’s Ascension into heaven. Before he leaves, He’ll tell the Apostles “Go, therefore and make disciples of all nations.”

You wouldn’t watch the first episode of Survivor to see who the players are and then not watch again until the finale to see who won. You want to see what happens every week. You want to learn who the players are. You learn about their personalities. You watch the relationships build. That’s the part that makes a reality show not just a show. The same is true of any fictional series. We want to know what makes the characters tick.

So, as we leave Church on this beautiful Easter morning, nourished by Christ’s Body and Blood, keep in mind that today is just part of the story. It’s the top of the mountain, but we didn’t just wake up here today. As Paul Harvey would say, “stay tuned for the rest of the story.” Next Sunday our second graders will receive their first communion, and my grandson will be baptized after 10:30 mass. Their stories are just beginning, and you and I each play an important part.

Like any good reality show, we don’t know how this one ends. We know that Jesus will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. We hope that when the time comes, we’re not voted off the island. We hope to be among the survivors. But only Jesus knows for sure if we’re going to meet all the challenges. The good news is that it’s not a competition. We can all win. We don’t have to outwit, outplay, or outlast anyone else. As this morning’s Gospel said, “To Him all the prophets bear witness, that everyone who believes in Him will receive forgiveness of sins through His name.”

Everyone! That’s you and me. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to miss a single episode of that story.

Good Friday

Most of you know I was raised Baptist. Not much of a Baptist, but technically that’s what I was. At least, that’s what my mom was. In the Baptist church, you weren’t baptized until you were old enough to decide for yourself, usually in your teens. We went to church once in a while and I went to Vacation Bible School, every summer. But as a kid, my knowledge of religion was pretty meager.

What I knew about Good Friday in those days was that it was the day Jesus died….and that we got the day off from school. That was in the days before political correctness, so even the public schools called it Good Friday. We also got the day after Easter off, which the kids called Good Monday.

We had a small family, just my mom and dad and me, and an aunt and uncle, Aunt Mary and Uncle Elmer. Aunt Mary’s mother lived with them. Her name was Aunt Fern. My mom worked, so I spent a lot of time at Aunt Mary and Uncle Elmer’s house.

The only time I remember seeing Aunt Fern in church, was at her funeral. I don’t even know for sure what church she belonged to. She was buried from the South Side Christian Church in Hannibal, MO, so maybe she belong to that one. That would explain why she never went to church. It was more than 100 miles away! Which is a long way of getting to the other thing I knew about Good Friday.


There were two things about Aunt Fern that would make you think she was a religious woman. One was a beautiful picture of Jesus that she had in her bedroom. It was the one where Jesus is standing outside the closed door with no door knob. I loved that picture even though I didn’t understand what it meant; that Jesus can’t come in unless you open the door for him. I used to lay on my Aunt’s bed and just stare at it.

The other thing was that Aunt Fern thought you would go straight to hell if you ate meat on Good Friday. She would have rather been tied to the railroad track that ran behind the house in front of an oncoming train, than to eat meat on that one day of the year.

So, you can imagine that as a kid without much religious background, I knew that this was a very special day. What I never understood was why they called it GOOD Friday. If it was the day they killed Jesus, what could possibly be good about it. Even getting the day off school didn’t seem like enough to make it a good day. I thought it was a terrible day. It was the day of the worst crime in history; the day they murdered God.

That idea didn’t leave me until I was much older, like maybe a few days ago. If you’ve been following along in the Lenten readings that Father Gary sent us at the beginning of Lent, you know where I’m going with this. Sister Melannie explains it very clearly in the reading for today.
She writes:
“What a paradox! We call good the day we commemorate Jesus’ passion and death. Why? Certainly Jesus’ death was anything but good. It was a terrible event--an awful evil, a loathsome crime. But we call today good because it revealed once and for all just how much Jesus really loves us--so much so that he could embrace such a horrible death for us. As we meditate on Jesus’ terrible sufferings, let us also ponder his tremendous love.

“Think of those who love you most. Now multiply those loves by a million, a billion, infinitely. That’s how much Jesus loves you. That’s how much God loves you.

“If we could really believe we are the apple of God’s eye, what a difference it would make in our attitude, our outlook our choices. How eager we would be to love someone else in the same way. Yes, there is much suffering in the Passion of Jesus--repeated beatings, the crowning of thorns, the carrying of the cross, the pounding of the nails in his flesh, the hanging on the cross. But most of all there is much love. Instead of merely feeling sorry for Jesus, let us accept the challenge to follow his way of loving--a way that inevitably includes the cross. Then we will have another reason to call today Good Friday.”

So, it is a good day after all. It’s the day Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice for you, and for me, by shedding His blood on the cross.

In a moment, we’ll venerate this cross, as a sign of our love for Him. But let’s not end it there. Let’s live our lives as a sign of how much we love and appreciate the Lord for making such a sacrifice for us.