Let Not Your Hearts Be Troubled

In this week’s gospel reading, from John, chapter 14, Jesus offered a farewell discourse to His disciples during the Last Supper. He said: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.”

That’s quite a curious statement to make mere hours before being betrayed by Judas, arrested and tortured by the Romans, and finally hung on a cross to die. Peace? Don’t let your hearts be troubled? Don’t be afraid? Very odd things to say when all hell is about to break loose.

The timing kind of reminds me of that famous newsreel image of British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain grinning like a fool and waving a piece of paper signed by “Herr Hitler,” which supposedly guaranteed there would be no war in Europe. Shortly thereafter the Continent, and then the rest of the globe, exploded into the most destructive conflagration known to mankind, World War II.

Unlike Chamberlain, who displayed no prophetic skills nor any understanding of the dark side of human nature, Jesus knew exactly what was going to happen. He knew wicked men were about to kill Him. He knew His flock would be scattered. He knew Peter would deny Him. He knew in less than 24 hours the whole city of Jerusalem would consider His ministry an abject failure.

Jesus knew all this bad stuff was about to happen and yet He said, “My peace I give you….Do not let your hearts be troubled.”

The explanation is found in Jesus’ middle sentence: “Not as the world gives do I give [peace] to you.” According to “the world”—which means our natural, human view of things—peace is the absence of war. We say it is peaceful when there is no conflict, no overt hostilities. 

In the Middle East, for example, we say there is peace when the Israelis and Palestinians are not currently killing each other, despite the seething hatred which still exists. (And the way things are going over there in recent years, the “world’s” type of peace would be a welcomed relief.)

A more subtle example is the situation in many households. Things may appear peaceful—there is no angry screaming or physical abuse—but there is also no love or respect. The family members have learned to co-exist in silence with one another despite a constant undercurrent of selfishness, resentment, and mistrust. To the world, this is peace. To Jesus, this is a tragedy.

The peace that Jesus offers to us is peace of the soul. It is the peace that comes from knowing our sins are completely forgiven; the peace that comes by having our hearts filled with the love of God; the peace that comes when we are certain the trials and tribulations of life are nothing compared to eternal life in Heaven.

The peace of Jesus allows a person to be serene and joyful, even in the midst of war, because he knows that death is not the end of the story. (Please read Corrie Ten Boom’s classic book, “The Hiding Place,” and pay close attention to her sister Betsy’s Christ-centered peace and joy as she was being worked to death in a Nazi concentration camp.) The peace of Jesus comes from an eternal perspective of life. 

With the peace of Jesus in our souls, we can be joyful and happy regardless of how much conflict swirls around us. On the other hand, without the peace of Jesus, it is easy to be filled with anxiety, fear, and unhappiness regardless of how much prosperity, pleasure, and prestige we enjoy. (Hmm, I think I just described modern America, where the suicide rate is much higher among the wealthy than the poor.)

Like most aspects of Christianity, the peace Jesus gives to us is at the same time impossible and very easy. It is impossible because we cannot do it on our own—it requires the supernatural power of God. It is easy, though, since God’s supernatural power is stronger than any other force in the universe. The key is to surrender our stubborn will and personal plans, and submit to the will and plan of God. Again, at times this is very easy, and at other times it is practically impossible.

I once heard a preacher say we should live our lives 50-percent natural and 50-percent spiritual. Before I put my faith in Jesus in 1984, I was 100-percent natural and zero-percent spiritual. Now, after more than three decades of prayer, Bible study, and Christian fellowship, I’ve progressed to the point where I’m about 96-percent natural and 4-percent spiritual. At this rate I’ll be in good shape when I turn 750 years old.

My guess is that God wants us to be 100-percent spiritual and the natural stuff will take care of itself. (As Jesus said at the Sermon on the Mount, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these [physical necessities] will be added unto you.”)

If you don’t want your heart to be troubled or afraid, try the peace that Jesus offers. You won’t be disappointed.

Tonight’s Episode: The Wild Jungle

Good evening, and welcome to another episode of the award-winning public television series, “The Wild Jungle.” I’m your host, Sir Nigel Pifflepants.

Our film crew recently traveled to a deep, dark jungle region known as the I-84 corridor in Connecticut, a well-traveled migration route where herds of native species make the perilous morning trek from their lairs and dens to various food sources and then back again each evening.

As dawn breaks, we see the well-worn path is already bustling with activity. As the hungry herds race to their feeding grounds, a great predator lies in wait, the dreaded and powerful statetrooperis speedtrapicus, the king of the jungle, commonly known as the Ford Police Interceptor.

On this particular morning, we observe the typical hustle and bustle of the I-84 route. But just beyond a slight rise in the terrain, our telephoto lens spies an Interceptor quietly crouching along the edge of the path. As animals streak over the crest and catch their first glimpse of the waiting predator, they suddenly decelerate in fear, and try their best to blend in with the herd while avoiding eye contact.

The trembling creatures repeatedly glance backward to see if the Interceptor has targeted them. But this hunter can be very patient. He will wait for long periods of time, his laser-like vision monitoring the passing review until the perfect victim comes along.

Suddenly the predator leaps into action. Look at him go! He bounds onto the pathway with a surge of V-8, four-barreled acceleration. A high-pitched wail and flashes of red and blue tell the world that this hungry carnivore has selected a target.

On this particular morning, the Interceptor has set his sights on a frisky Camaro who strayed from the herd and foolishly frolicked ahead of the pack. Other creatures veer to the side as hunted and hunter race by. Just look at that power and speed!

The relentless pursuer eventually closes the gap and triumphantly forces his victim to the side of the path in a swirl of dust. And so, the chase comes to an end as abruptly as it began.

Upon seizing his prey, the undisputed king of the jungle oftentimes pauses, gathering himself for the final kill — while also running a computerized license plate check. During this interminable wait, the helpless victim is indeed a pitiful sight, morosely pondering his unfortunate fate, and sitting in full view as the rest of the herd passes by.

Other herd members look at the sad scene, sorrowful that a fellow creature has met such an untimely demise, while at the same time flooded with relief that, at least this time, it was not them.

But empathy and compassion have no place in the violent jungle. The teeming herd must quickly forget the unfortunate spectacle and concentrate on the task at hand: continuing the journey and the relentless quest for sustenance. And lest we forget, other Interceptors are out there, stalking the thoroughfare, waiting to pounce.

It is a story as old as life itself. The continuous struggle for survival. Kill or be killed. Fight or flee. Eat or be eaten. Paper or plastic. Boxers or briefs. Ginger or Mary Ann.

Thank you for tuning in to our stark and graphic presentation of ruthless predators in the wild. And speaking of ruthless predators, stay tuned for yet another pledge break.

Next week we will study a different violent, survival-of-the-fittest environment: the suburban shopping mall. Until then, I’m your host, Sir Nigel Pifflepants, saying good night.

* * * 

Reminder: This Sunday, May 1st, I’ll be speaking at St. Thomas the Apostle church in Oxford, CT. Potluck supper begins at 5 pm. See you there!

Noisy Children at Mass

At Sunday Mass, young children will act up once in a while and make a lot of noise. I am, of course, using the definition of the phrase “once in a while” that means: “every single Sunday like clockwork right in the middle of the homily.”

When toddlers in church get fidgety and make noise, I smile and think to myself, “Well, I’m just glad they’re here at Mass.” Many parents choose to leave their young children at home instead of bringing them to Mass. Come to think of it, many parents nowadays choose to leave themselves at home, too, rather than go to Mass.

I’m grateful these young families are in church, regardless of how noisy the youngsters are. However, when I think back to the time when my kids were young, I wasn’t always so serene and forgiving. In fact, if I remember correctly, I often spent the entire Mass glaring at my kids and whispering through clenched teeth, “If you don’t stop it RIGHT NOW, you’re in big trouble!!” (And let me tell you, it is not easy to whisper capitalized words and double exclamation points. It’s takes a lot of talent to convey anger while making hardly any sound.)

At the time I thought I was subtle enough so only my kids could tell I was angry, but now I realize everyone within a 50-foot radius also could tell my blood pressure was in the red zone. If the folks nearby could not actually hear my whispered threats, they knew something was going on because of the steam spewing from my ears.

The more I think about it, the more I realize I should phone my children, now all grown up, and apologize for the way I behaved in church a quarter-century ago. And to think, back then I was convince they were the ones misbehaving, when it turns out I was the one ignoring Jesus’ words, “Let the little children come unto me.”

I think the main reason I badgered my kids to be silent during Mass was my fear of getting nasty looks from other adults in the church. Let’s be honest, people can be very quick to offer a nasty glance toward rambunctious kids and their parents. It’s frustrating enough to try and keep children from disrupting Mass, but then to have to endure angry stares from other adults doesn’t help. I wonder if some of the parents who no longer go to Mass nowadays do so because of the looks they received from other parishioners?

Here’s an episode that actually occurred in my parish many years ago, and I swear I’m not exaggerating. A young mother brought her two boisterous sons to Mass each Sunday. One day after Mass, she saw that someone had put a hand-written note under the windshield wiper of her car. The note said: “If you can’t keep your children quiet, maybe you should go to a different church.” Nice, huh? Not only was that a nasty gesture, but doing it anonymously was cowardly, too.

So, now when I’m at Mass and I hear some youngsters acting up, I not only whisper to myself, “I’m just glad they’re here at Mass,” I also make a point of looking at the parents and smiling. If I’m close enough, I’ll whisper, “They’re so cute!” I figure it’s the least I can do to counteract some of the nasty stares they’re bound to get.

Yes, I freely admit it’s difficult to engage in solemn prayer during Mass when a toddler in the pew behind you is screaming and throwing Cheerios at the back of your head. I get it. But those are the moments when we have to stop and ask ourselves, “What would Jesus do?” And the answer is: Jesus would smile and laugh and be delighted that the youngster is in church, even if it’s more difficult to engage in solemn prayer. And we should do the same.

Loving One Another Is Hard To Do

     In this week's gospel reading, Jesus gave us a new commandment: "Love one another."  He went on to say, "This is how all will know you for my disciples: your love for one another."

     Based on the behavior of many people in the church, however, it's safe to say that the outside world often has no clue that we are disciples of Jesus.  If we do have any love for each other, we're capable of hiding it rather well.

     Our church board meetings can be more like negotiating sessions between the Teamsters union and corporate management, complete with table-pounding threats and accusations.

     Our after-church coffee hours can be more like an employee lounge during morning break, filled with gossip, slander, politicking, and back-biting.

     Our pot luck suppers can be more like Beef n' Brew Night at O'Malley's Tavern, including lewd and crude outbursts and side-swiped guard rails on the way home.

     Our church parking lots can be more like the interstate highway during rush hour, teeming with clenched jaws, rude invectives, and the world-famous "We're number one," hand gesture.

     The people who belong to Christ were given one important job and one helpful suggestion by the Lord.  The job is called the Great Commission, where Jesus said: "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations...teaching them to observe what I have commanded you."

     And the helpful hint Jesus gave to make us more effective in doing this job was his command to love one another.  The idea is that when non-believers see Christians treating each other with the dignity and respect and love which is so rare out in the everyday world, they'll be drawn in, first out of curiosity, but then out of a desire to experience that peace and love.

     Of course, Jesus did not give us this helpful hint only to make us better salesmen for the kingdom of God.  ("And if you act now, we'll throw in a complete set of Ginsu knifes!  A $29.95 value, yours free for joining the Jesus Club!  Operators are standing by to take your order!!")

     Jesus commanded us to love one another for two major reasons.  First, it is the true source of peace and serenity in this less than peaceful and less than serene world of ours. Everybody knows someone so consumed by the world's definition of success, as a result it has made him or her downright miserable. (Maybe this person stares at you from the mirror each morning?)

     The materialistic, power-hungry, self-centered rat race is a grueling marathon.  Because the rewards are so fleeting, even the winners of this race wind up losers in the end.  Only by denying our selfish impulses and showing true love for others will we ever find real peace and happiness.

     The other reason Jesus gave us this command is because it is the exact way he acted toward us.  He said, "Such as my love has been for you, so must your love be for each other."  He modeled perfect love when he gave his life as a ransom for our sins.  His love is the ideal expression toward which we must strive.

     Now, obviously, not everyone in the church is a self-centered immoral weasel, indistinguishable from, say, Charles Manson or, even worse, the people currently running for president.

     Don't get me wrong.  I'm convinced that one of the last things keeping our chaotic society from completely unraveling is the fact that many nameless saints all over this country still base their lives on God's unchanging definition of right and wrong.

     But in the eyes of many people outside the Christian family, we often appear no different than unbelievers.  When folks read in the paper about all the lawsuits, sex crimes, and financial shenanigans; when they hear bigoted profanity spewing from a person wearing a crucifix; when they get the "fish and fowl" treatment on the highway (having someone flip you the bird from a car adorned with the Christian fish symbol); there is no way that they are going to be drawn toward Jesus.

     In this week's gospel reading, Jesus makes it clear that he expects us to be different.  In fact, he wants our behavior to be so radical and bizarre that other people will actually stop and stare.  Jesus insists that we love the unlovable, pray for our enemies, give our precious "stuff" away to strangers, and most difficult of all, love one another. 

     And just maybe, some of the people who stop and stare--and wonder how we can be so peaceful and loving--will be introduced to him who is perfect love.

Public Speaking Adventures

Human beings were created with a built-in, water-cooled temperature control system, in the form of approximately 2.6 million sweat glands located all over our skin. This is a remarkable mechanism. Whenever we become a little too hot or nervous, the sweat glands secrete a bit of moisture, which evaporates and cools us down. This sophisticated temperature control system is an amazing feat of design and engineering — except when it is not.

For example, sometimes a person — who shall remain nameless — is about to give a one-hour presentation to a group of 20 business professionals assembled in a conference room designed to hold 12 people, which makes the room a little on the stuffy side. When this person’s laptop computer at first does not work properly, he becomes a bit panicky.

Finally, the technical problems are resolved, and the person begins the presentation by saying, “Hi, my name is Bill Dunn.” At that moment, a tiny droplet of sweat trickles down the left side of his forehead. This unnamed person nonchalantly brushes away the sweat droplet and continues talking. Then another drop of sweat — a bit larger than a droplet this time — trickles down the right side of his face. Then the person notices that his entire forehead has become as dewy as a lawn at sunrise in April.

Even though the slight amount of sweat is caused mostly by the warm room temperature rather than nervousness, the unnamed person suddenly becomes very nervous, fearful he is beginning to look like Marco Rubio trying to answer a difficult question during a televised debate.

This nervousness prompts the person’s adrenal gland to send an urgent hormonal message to every square inch of skin, and on cue 2.6 million sweat glands simultaneously produce a barely perceptible squirt.

Well, the squirt of an individual sweat gland is barely perceptible. But when that action is multiplied by 2.6 million, the overall effect on the unnamed person is nothing short of remarkable. In an instant, he is transformed from a man calmly explaining Slide #3 (of his 55-slide presentation), into a man who has just climbed, fully clothed, out of a swimming pool.

The man offers a forced chuckle and says, “Is it me, or is it warm in here?” In reply, 20 stony faces (dry faces, by the way) stare at the man, silently communicating the message, “I feel fine. What’s your problem?”

This causes the man’s adrenal gland to send out another urgent hormonal message, and this time all 2.6 million sweat glands conclude that another squirt is not sufficient, and therefore “full-flow mode” is required.

At this point, with 52 more slides to go, the unnamed person strolls to the side of the room and reaches up and pulls the fire alarm lever. As the entire building empties, he calmly walks to his car, drives to the airport, and catches the first flight to Mongolia where he lives out the rest of his life in anonymity.

Well, I have it on good authority that he at least WANTED to do that.

* * * 

Speaking of public speaking, on Sunday, May 1st, I will be speaking at St. Thomas the Apostle church, Rte. 67 in Oxford, CT. A potluck supper begins at 5 pm, and afterward I’ll be reading excerpts from my book, “The Gospel According to Morty,” which is a (hopefully) humorous look at whether Jesus ever laughed. Feel free to join us, and with any luck my 2.6 million sweat glands will not go into full “Marco Rubio mode.” But if that does happen, watching a person perform a self-baptism is always a rather interesting sight, so it will be a good show either way. See you there!

This World Is Not Our Home

Do you ever have the feeling that something is missing? Oh, you may be fairly successful, and other people think your life is going pretty well. But deep inside, down in the depths of your soul, you simply do not have true peace and serenity. And the more time passes by without experiencing peace and serenity, the more you crave it.

Maybe you’re hoping that someday in the near future you will experience perfect peace—as soon as you resolve all the stressful aspects of your life. But the years are ticking by faster and faster, and that elusive peace is still way out there in the future, and you’re starting to think that maybe you’ll never reach a point where you’re filled with true peace and serenity.

Well, there’s a good reason why perfect peace is so elusive: we’re really not meant to have it—at least not in this world. In the first reading at Mass this weekend, Paul and Barnabas said this about living the Christian life: “It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the kingdom of God.” Many hardships? Whoa!

The main reason we often feel that something is missing—that true peace and serenity are so elusive—is the fact this world is really not our home. Oh sure, our natural bodies were born here, and we’ll spend the better part of a century living on this earth, but when it comes to the real us, our soul and spirit, this world is not home. Our true home is with our Creator in Heaven.

Perfect peace and serenity will not be ours until we join our Lord in Heaven. In this week’s second reading, St. John describes what will happen at that time: “[God] will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.”

Knowing that true peace and serenity await us in Heaven can give us hope and help us persevere when times are difficult. But let’s be honest, a correct understanding of the situation can be somewhat discouraging. Knowing that most of our days here on earth are going to be filled with, as Paul and Barnabas said, “many hardships,” is kind of depressing.

However, it’s important to remember that Jesus understands our dilemma, and He offers us a way to experience some of Heaven’s perfect peace and serenity right here on earth. In one of the greatest verses in the whole Bible, John 16:33, Jesus summarizes our problem and offers the solution: “I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But be of good cheer! I have overcome the world.”

Jesus doesn’t sugarcoat it. He tells us that we are certain to have trouble in this world. But despite our troubles, He insists we still can be of good cheer because He has overcome the world. The power of God is greater than the power of sin and death that infects this world. And the glimpse of true peace Jesus offers us is greater than anything the secular culture can offer.

We have to submit ourselves totally to Christ and let His spirit fill our hearts. Then and only then will we be able to experience a small portion of His peace here in this world.

This world is not our home. Our true home is Heaven, the place where we will experience perfect peace and serenity for all eternity. But while we are here, if we are “in Christ,” He will help us deal with our troubles. He makes it possible for us to “be of good cheer” in this fallen world. And that makes all the difference.  

Jewish-Christian Relations Often Strained

In the first reading at Mass this weekend, from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear about Paul and Barnabas on a missionary journey. In the city of Antioch, they preached the Good News of Jesus Christ and were successful in converting many people to the Christian faith. But some of the local Jewish leaders became jealous and began talking abusively against Paul, Barnabas, and the message they preached.

Paul and Barnabas finally said to the local Jewish leaders, “It was necessary that the word of God be spoken to you first, but since you reject it…we now turn to the Gentiles.”

The Gentiles in the area were thrilled to hear this, and as the reading explains, “The word of the Lord continued to spread through the whole region.”

However, the local Jewish leaders continued to bad-mouth Paul and Barnabas. A persecution was stirred up, and finally Paul and Barnabas were expelled from the territory.

This episode raises the often-delicate issue of the relationship between Christians and Jews. Although Christians and Jews worship the same God, and although we both consider the Old Testament texts to be the divinely inspired communication of God to mankind, we differ sharply about the identity of Jesus. Christians believe that Jesus was, and is, one-in-being with Almighty God; that His death paid the price for all of mankind’s sins; that He rose from the grave three days later; and that He alone is the Way and the Truth and the Life—our only hope for eternal life in Heaven.

Jews, on the other hand, believe Jesus was just a man. They are still waiting for the promised Messiah to come. Obviously these two views of Jesus are mutually exclusive. They both cannot be correct simultaneously. It’s one thing to have differing religious views; it’s another thing to let those differing views turn into hatred and persecution. During St. Paul’s time, Jews often persecuted Christians. During the following 19 centuries, however, it was the Christians who often persecuted Jews.

Back when Mel Gibson was about to release his controversial movie, “The Passion of the Christ,” he was accused of being an anti-Semite who was making an anti-Semitic movie—even though his accusers had yet to see the film. When the movie finally was released, it became clear that despite the graphic blood and gore, Gibson stayed pretty faithful to the Gospel accounts (except for his fanciful and creative depiction of events not clearly described in the Gospels).

At that point, even though the movie was not anti-Semitic and even though no incidents of violence toward Jews occurred—as had been relentlessly predicted—some of Gibson’s critics were honest enough to admit they STILL considered the movie anti-Semitic. Why? Because they consider the Gospels in the Bible to be anti-Semitic.

Now, it didn’t help things a few years later, when Mel’s true feelings toward Jews spewed forth during his infamous D.U.I. arrest. Many of his critics felt vindicated, even though the movie was pretty clear that only a small group of Jewish religious leaders pressured the Romans to execute Jesus, rather than all Jews throughout all history. Unfortunately, many people over the centuries have taught that all Jews for all time are guilty of Jesus’ blood. What utter nonsense.

The Gospels in the Bible, far from being anti-Semitic, make it very clear that all of humanity killed Jesus. He died to pay the price for all of us, Jews and Gentiles, pagans and atheists. ALL have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. ALL are in need of a divine Savior.

But, to be fair, there are some verses in the New Testament, when read out of context, which seem to support a rather harsh view of the Jewish people. For example, in John’s gospel, whenever he referred to the religious leaders in Jerusalem during Jesus’ lifetime—a rather small group of men who felt threatened by Jesus—he simply called them “the Jews.” Some people down through the ages have mistakenly assumed that John’s “the Jews” means “all Jews.”

Another of these difficult verses is in this week’s first reading, where, as mentioned earlier, St. Paul declared to his Jewish opponents, “Since you reject [the word of God]…we now turn to the Gentiles.” A lot of people (who, I’m certain, are already predisposed to dislike Jews) use this verse, along with the verses in John’s gospel, to conclude that God must have rejected the Jewish people, and now His favorite chosen ones are the Christians.

This idea could not be further from the truth, and proof can be found in the words of the very man who made the statement in this week’s reading, St. Paul.

Paul wrote extensively about the Jewish people and their place in God’s overall plan for mankind. Beginning in chapter 11 of his letter to the Romans, Paul wrote, “I ask then, Did God reject his people? By no means! I am an Israelite myself, a descendent of Abraham, from the tribe of Benjamin. God did not reject his people, whom he foreknew” (Romans 11: 1-2).

A little later on, Paul explained that although the Jews rejected the Christian description of Jesus’ identity, it is all part of God’s plan to bring salvation to the whole world. He wrote, “Again I ask, Did they stumble so as to fall beyond recovery? Not at all! Rather, because of their transgression, salvation has come to the Gentiles to make Israel envious. But if their transgression means riches for the world, and their loss means riches for the Gentiles, how much greater riches will their fullness bring!” (Romans 11: 11-12).

Finally, Paul summarized this important message: “Israel has experienced a hardening in part until the full number of the Gentiles has come in. And so all Israel will be saved” (Romans 11:25-26).

I repeat, Paul clearly wrote, “And so all Israel will be saved.”

Now, it’s important to understand that Paul wrote his letter to the Romans long after the events described in this week’s first reading. Paul didn’t write nice things about the Jews and then later on suffer persecution at their hands, causing him possibly to change his mind. He first suffered the persecution and then, toward the end of his life, wrote his great summary of the Christian faith, the letter to the Romans. 

So keep this in mind if you ever hear someone say God has rejected the Jews. It just ain’t so! The Lord loves the Jews as much as He loves anyone else. I mean, think about it: Jesus and His Mother Mary weren’t exactly Presbyterians, you know? Although most Jews don’t realize it just yet, Jesus died for them, too.

Learn Italian in cinque easy lessons

Later this year one of our daughters is getting married, and the wedding will take place in my future son-in-law’s hometown, which is in Italy. I’m excited about flying to Europe for the wedding (after deciding swimming to Europe might take too long), but I’m a little nervous about the language barrier. Most everyone in Italy speaks fluent Italian and pretty good English, while I speak pretty good English and nothing else. (I’m being generous with the term “pretty good.” If you ask someone from England to listen to me speak English, he might describe it as, “bloody awful Yank caterwauling!” Yeah? Well, kiss my grits, Nigel.)

It’s an interesting phenomenon that English has become the worldwide language of commerce, to the point that many people in Europe and Asia learn our language. But this allows Americans to take the easy way out and settle for knowing only English. Of course, there are Americans who can speak two languages, especially if they have relatives in a foreign country, such as Alabama. (Don’t ask an Englishman to listen to folks from Tuscaloosa speak what they insist is “prop-uh Ang-a-lish, y’all”; it will make poor Nigel’s head explode.)

Since many people in Italy can speak English, probably a lot better than I can, I assumed we simply would speak English the entire time we’re in Italy for the wedding. But my wife thinks the polite thing to do is learn some basic Italian phrases.

This could be a problem, since I’ve never demonstrated any aptitude for learning a foreign language. For example, I had to take a foreign language in school, so thinking that I might someday enjoy hockey or go on a vacation in Quebec (neither ever happened), I chose French. After four years of French classes, I can remember exactly one phrase: “sacré bleu!” which I think means “my socks are blue.”

Later, I thought that maybe I should learn some Spanish, since two institutions that I’m very fond of, baseball and Catholicism, are now dominated by Spanish-speaking people. But other than some menu items at Taco Bell, my quest to learn Spanish has been unsuccessful. I’m not sure, but the main reason might be my total lack of effort.

I have a client at work who recently came to the United States from Germany. I don’t know any German, except key phrases I picked up watching “Hogan’s Heroes” as a kid (for example, “Klink, you dummkopf!” and, “Jawohl, Major Hochstetter!”). However, the other day I had to send this young man an email, so I decided to include a German greeting. I searched online for the German translation for “How are you doing?” Well, just my luck, out of two million websites that offer translation help, I clicked on a smart-aleck site. The German phrase it gave me was not quite “How are you doing?” It instead was more like, “Why do you molest goats?” It took quite a while to convince my irate client that my email note was not malicious, but rather was due to the fact that I’m a dummkopf.

My greatest fear is that I’ll work hard to learn some basic Italian phrases, but then when I try to use them at the wedding, I’ll bungle it up. I can see myself trying to say to my daughter’s new mother-in-law, “This cheese smells wonderful,” but what I actually say is, “Your feet smell like cheese.” 

I think my best bet is to refrain completely from speaking while we’re in Italy. I just need to keep my mouth filled with food at all times. Luckily, being an American, that is a language in which I am quite fluent.

Priestly Patience on Display at Catholic Funerals

For a long time I’ve been searching the Bible trying to find exactly where it says members of the Catholic Church always behave perfectly. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to locate that verse, which probably explains a common situation I’ve observed over the years.

Here’s the situation: an elderly person in town passes away, and a family member contacts the local parish office and requests a funeral in the church. No, request is the wrong word. The family member DEMANDS a funeral in the church—at a particular time and on a particular day. However, neither the dearly departed nor any of the surviving relatives have ever set foot in that church, nor have they ever been registered in the parish or involved in a single parish activity.

It doesn’t matter. The family member indignantly says, “Grandma was raised Catholic, so you are REQUIRED to give her a full funeral.”

Frankly, I’m not sure what local parishes are required to do in this situation, but I know on the few occasions when I’ve observed this scenario, the parish priest did not do what I would’ve done if I had been the priest. If I were in charge, I’m pretty sure the expression, “Don’t let the door hit you in the *bleep* on the way out!” would’ve been part of my concluding comments.

When I’ve observed this scenario in local parishes over the years, the priest has gone out of his way to provide the appropriate service or funeral for the deceased—even if, as I suspect, he had to work hard to suppress the urge to smack the family member upside his ungrateful head.

These are the moments when we get a good glimpse at why a man became a priest in the first place. He was called by God to minister to hurting souls here in our broken and fallen world. And even though it can be infuriating to have to deal with someone who is rude and demanding, that very behavior often indicates the person is hurting deep down inside.

Most priests understand this and are able to ignore boorish and offensive behavior, and are able to offer genuine spiritual help even under the most unpleasant circumstances. There is a very good reason why I am not a Catholic priest, even better than the fact I was married with a child before I stopped being an atheist. The even better reason is the fact I’m much more prone to blurt out, “Don’t let the door hit you in the *bleep*,” when someone makes a rude and demanding request of me. I’ve been searching the Bible trying to find out exactly where it says, “When someone strikes you on the cheek, turn the other fist and deck him,” but I can’t seem to locate that verse.

I am constantly amazed at how compassionate and forgiving our priests really are. They do an amazing job of ministering to hurting people. Despite this, there still are situations that make you shake your head in amazement.

Many years ago, here is the exact scenario that occurred: After an elderly person died, the family demanded a Catholic funeral, even though no one in the family had been active in the parish for decades. The pastor did the funeral Mass, and did the best job he could, considering he had never met the deceased.

So, a few days later a scathing letter-to-the-editor appeared in the local newspaper, written by one of the family members. The letter ripped the priest to shreds—by name. Apparently, the family expected the priest to drop everything he was doing and focus his undivided attention on them for three straight days. When he didn’t, they decided to insult him publicly. Nice, huh? 

I’ve been searching the Bible trying to find exactly where Jesus commands us to tell people, “Don’t let the door hit you in the *bleep*,” but I can’t seem to locate that verse. It’s a good thing our priests are a whole lot more understanding than I am.

Why Was Jesus So Secretive?

In the 21st chapter of John’s gospel—the reading at Mass this weekend,—Jesus appeared to His disciples at the shore of the Sea of Galilee. We read in verse 14: “This was now the third time Jesus was revealed to his disciples after being raised from the dead.” It was only His third appearance, and there were not going to be many others.

Do you ever wonder why Jesus was so secretive about showing Himself to the world after the Resurrection? If I had been His marketing consultant, I would have scheduled all kinds of events and appearances, just like a presidential candidate during the week before a big primary.

The heart of the Christian faith is the Resurrection of Jesus. As St. Paul wrote in his first epistle to the Corinthians, “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile.” The Resurrection is the key. If someone claims to be a Christian but does not believe that Jesus rose from the dead, then he is simply fooling himself. (A lot of folks think they are Christians—and that they’re headed for Heaven—just because they go to church on a regular basis. But as the old saying goes, “Being inside a church does not make you a Christian any more than being inside a garage makes you a Buick.”)

Since true saving faith hinges on belief in the Resurrection (see: Romans 10:9), why didn’t Jesus spend all His time appearing to as many people as possible? After all, every person who saw Him walking and talking after the crucifixion would have been one less person who needed to be convinced by the apostle’s preaching.

It seems that Jesus could have done a better job of getting more post-Resurrection exposure. The gospels indicate that He appeared sporadically to the disciples, such as the visit on the shore of Galilee. And St. Paul mentioned in one of his letters that over 500 people saw Jesus alive—a seemingly sizeable number, but not when compared to the total number of people living in the Roman Empire at the time. Nowadays there are at least 500 people who claim in recent years that they’ve seen Elvis alive.

After His few-and-far-between appearances, Jesus ascended back into Heaven less than six weeks after rising from the tomb. He left it all up to the disciples to convince the world that the Resurrection really happened. If you ask me, that was not a very well-thought out marketing and promotion plan. (Yeah, I know, no one asked me.)

Why didn’t Jesus travel the countryside for at least three years after the Resurrection as He did for three years before the Resurrection? Why didn’t He spend the next 50 years appearing in Greece and Rome and all the other major cultural centers? And now that I think about it, why didn’t He stay on earth for 2,000 years so that I could have seen Him in the flesh? If I had seen Jesus and believed in Him when I was a teenager, it would have spared a lot of people a lot of pain during my “Just say ‘Yes’ to alcohol and drugs” years.

This may come as a shock to many people, but God hardly ever consults with me before making plans—even though I could have come up with dozens of ideas to get Jesus great exposure. He did things His way and, all kidding aside, we trust that He knows best.

I suppose the answer to the “Why didn’t He…?” questions can be found in the words Jesus spoke to Doubting Thomas: “You believe because you have seen Me; blessed are those who have not seen and believe.”

Faith is a lot like love. It’s only genuine when we are free to say yes or no. Only when we have the option NOT to believe will our faith be special when we DO believe.

The letter to the Hebrews explains that “faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Faith contains an element of trust. We have to trust that the Resurrection really occurred even though we were not eye witnesses.

Those of us who believe without seeing, according to Jesus’ words, are blessed. I suppose we’re more blessed than even St. Thomas because he wouldn’t believe until he saw. 

Our belief in the Resurrection, of course, is not blind faith; it is not an illogical leap into Fantasyland. There is a great deal of powerful evidence that the words of Scripture are true. But an element of doubt is still needed so when we offer our faith, hope, trust, and love to God, it is the real thing.

It’s clear Jesus knew what He was doing at all times—including His limited, sporadic appearances after the Resurrection. The Christian faith spread throughout the known world within a few decades and 20 centuries later it is still alive and vibrant for billions of people. 

But still, if I were there, oh what excitement we could’ve generated. First, we book Jesus on “The O’Reilly Factor.” And then we do a series of sold-out shows at Madison Square Garden. And then the Lord appears on “Dancing with the Stars—Messiah Edition.” And then…

Is This Sox Fan Changing Allegiance?

As many people know, my favorite team is the Red Sox. In fact, the banner at the top of my online blog describes me as “a Recovering Atheist, Baby Boomer, Left-Handed Red Sox fan.” The accompanying photo shows me proudly wearing my Sox cap. Citizenship in Red Sox Nation is one of my primary points of identification.

In the summer of 1967, as a wide-eyed 10-year-old, I was dazzled by the exploits of Carl Yastrzemski during the “Impossible Dream” pennant-winning season. Ever since, I’ve been passionately following the fortunes of the Crimson-hosed Batsmen of the Back Bay. For many decades, it was an agonizing adventure. But then during the past dozen years, the Sox did the unthinkable: they actually won the World Series three different times. For someone who repeatedly intoned New England’s official communal prayer, “Please, Lord, let me see them win it just once before I die,” the last 12 years have been an embarrassment of riches. (And yes, I realize they came in last place three out of the last four years. But c’mon, remember how depressing it was in ’75, ’78, ’86, and ’03? Remember how we ached to see them win it just once? Don’t start acting like a Yankees fan. The fact is, even if the Sox end up in last place every year for the next half century, we have witnessed more glorious success than we ever dreamed.)

So, now that the 2016 season has begun, I have only one thing to say: this year I hope the Chicago Cubs win the World Series.

Wait. What?! The Cubs? Why the Cubs?

Let me explain. Do I love the Red Sox? Of course. But I also love the game of baseball. So I can empathize with fellow fans in other communities (except the Bronx). Remember the “Curse of the Bambino” and all those chants of, “Nine-teen, eight-teen!” and that ridiculous 86-year timespan since the last time the Red Sox had won? Don’t let the three recent championships make you forget all that frustration and humiliation.

Well, if you think the Red Sox drought was long, the poor Cubbies have not won a World Series since 1908. Yankees fans used to mock us for the 86-year gap, but the Cubs have not won in 108 years!

The last time the Cubs won it all, Teddy Roosevelt was president, and his ambitious fifth cousin Franklin was only 26 years old. In 1908 The Great War (later named World War I) was six years off into the future, the first commercial radio broadcast was still 12 years away, and the luxury ocean liner “Titanic” was still on the drawing board. In 1908 Henry Ford introduced his revolutionary Model T automobile, the Grand Canyon was designated a national monument, and for the first time a ball dropped at Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

In 1908 the following persons were born (now long deceased, of course): Rex Harrison, Bette Davis, Edward R. Murrow, Jimmy Stewart, Ian Fleming, Milton Berle, Carole Lombard, and Lyndon Johnson.

In 1908, a popular new song was “Shine On Harvest Moon.” Another popular new song that year, ironically, was “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

Let’s face it, 1908 was a LONG time ago!

If any ball club, if any fan base, deserves to see their team win, it’s the Cubs. Therefore, I am rooting for them this year. It just seems like the right thing to do.

However, if it turns out the Cubs square off against the Red Sox in the World Series, my revised attitude will be: Hey, Cub fans have been waiting quite a long time — and they can wait a little longer.

Final Exam for St. Peter

Ever since the apostle Simon Peter enrolled in M.I.T. (the Messiah Institute of Theology), he had been one of Professor Jesus’ favorite students. “The boy’s a bit hard-headed,” Jesus would comment in the faculty lounge, “but he’s got a heart of gold. I expect great things from him.”

Peter wasn’t the smartest kid in class, but he tried really hard. He always took notes and asked lots of questions. Then Finals Week arrived. Peter’s whole grade was riding on this one exam.

When the time came for the test, Peter was shocked. It was nothing like he had imagined. He had heard from other students that Jesus’ exams usually consisted of essay questions. This exam, however, only had three fill-in-the-blank questions.

Peter, never very comfortable taking exams, started to sweat. His mind began to race, then it went blank. He looked around the room and saw the other students writing away. Slowly, with his hand trembling, he reached inside his tunic for a Number 2 pencil.

“OK, calm down,” Peter said to himself, “You know this stuff, just relax.”

He slowly read the first question: “You also were with Jesus of Galilee, weren’t you?”

Peter felt panicky. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he thought. He chewed the eraser of his pencil and then wrote down an answer: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He read the second question: “You were with Jesus of Nazareth, right?”

Peter shook his head in bewilderment. “After all these years,” he muttered, “I, I really have no clue about Jesus.”

He wrote down his second answer: “I don’t know the man.”

Then he read the third question: “Surely you are one of them, for your accent gives you away.”

Peter’s eyes became misty. “That’s not even a question!” he moaned out loud, causing other students to look at him. In complete frustration, he cursed and swore and scribbled down his last answer: “I don’t know the man!”

Then Peter jumped up, strode to the front of the room, and slapped his paper down on the teacher’s desk. Just then, a rooster crowed outside the classroom window. Peter ran from the room in tears.

Professor Jesus was not surprised. He knew in advance Peter was going to flunk the test. That’s because it was not so much a final exam as it was a final lesson. By bombing the test, Peter’s pride and ego were sufficiently deflated, and now he was ready for the real final exam.

In the gospel reading this weekend, Professor Jesus gave Peter his make-up test. Again, there were three fill-in-the-blank questions. The first: “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”

Peter hesitated, then answered: “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Second question: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

Second answer: “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Third question: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

Simon Peter’s mind was racing once again. “He’s asked me the same question three times,” he thought. “What does he want me to say?!”

Peter could feel sweat form on his forehead. He felt the urge to run away in frustration again. But he thought a little more. “Look, I obviously don’t understand much of what Jesus has been teaching. But I do know some things for sure: Jesus is the Son of God, and I love him. So I’m gonna stick with what I know.”

He took a deep breath and spoke his final answer: “Lord, you know everything; you know that...I...love...you.”

Jesus smiled and grabbed Peter’s right hand, shaking it heartily. He then placed a diploma in Peter’s left hand. “Congratulations. You have earned your Master’s Degree in Servanthood. Now go and feed my sheep.”