A Pocket Full of Coins

Dear Theophilous,

I used to be like pretty much everybody else. Whenever we would venture into downtown Toronto, I’d be on the lookout; making wide detours when needed; directing my son’s attention the other way.

Then something changed. I can really pinpoint a moment in time when it happened. It was more of a gradual process than an Epiphany experience. But somewhere along the line, my heart softened. I began to see the homeless as human, created in the image of God, and deserving of the dignity that entails.

I had often heard the old argument for not giving money to the homeless: They’ll just use it on drugs. But then I began to wonder, what if a few coins were all they had to get a meal for the day, or week even. I realized I could no longer ignore these poor souls.

My new resolution to do something firmly in mind made for an awkward encounter our next trip into the big city. Seeing a homeless man ahead, his up-turned hat on the sidewalk, I was ready to make good on my promise to help out, even if it was to be only a few small coins. Hand fumbling through my pocket, I soon realized that in our cashless society, I had nothing in my wallet but plastic and large bills. Sheepishly I walked by, avoiding eye contact as I had done so many times before.

I learned my lesson. Now I go prepared. Before any excursion into the city, whether it’s for a sporting event or dinner out, I pillage our spare change jar, making sure I have at least $10 to $20 in coins in my pocket - $1 to $2 for each person we might come across in our travels.

I will do this when we’re going out as a family, or if I’m heading to a sporting event as a friend. While others will circle around the homeless sitting on the sidewalk, I will walk by, dropping a couple coins in their hat or cup, look them in the eye and give them a short “God bless.”

The reaction I have gotten has ranged from silence to a mumbled “God bless you too.” To a thankful 6pm: “You’re the first one today.”

The reactions of friends and family have been initial fear and embarrassment, which slowly give way to a certain humbleness. My son will now even look for these opportunities when we foray into the city.

Still, I understand that some people are remain leery about giving cash to the homeless (no matter how small the amount). My brother-in-law and his family have found a great way around this quandary. Every so often they will descend into the heart of downtown with a mission in mind. They will buy a dozen or so hamburgers from a local fast-food chain (nothing fancy, just a simple burger) and hand those out to the people they come across on the street. A beautiful gesture that will fill a belly, at least for a day.

**Addendum**

Just last week we went to a junior hockey game in the town next to ours. We were with a service group that my son belongs to, so to give him his independence I passed him $20 and sat a few rows away. Throughout the game I watched him come and go, laughing with his friends; and as we walked out after the final buzzer his grin told me he had had a fantastic time. Making our way along the cold snowy streets to our car, he spotted a homeless man sitting on the corner, cup in hand, ignored by the throngs leaving the arena. Silently, without any prompting my son let his hand slip from mine and he walked over, digging the change out of his pocket to drop in the poor man’s cup.

From Cafeteria to Google Catholic

Dear Theophilous,

I think we’ve all heard of the term Cafeteria Catholic; referring to the kind of person who picks and chooses which Church teachings to follow and ignoring the ones they’d rather do without. The term comes from the same kind of whimsical approach most of us take when getting lunch at the cafeteria; perhaps choosing the daily special over the cellophane wrapped sandwich, or maybe this time we’ll take the red Jell-O instead of the green.

The sad thing is, we all probably know of at least one Cafeteria Catholic. There’s Uncle Fred who likes to take his Eucharist without the obligatory side of yearly confession. Or maybe there’s your pew neighbour who’s there every week, she coos at the babies being baptized and loves Pope Francis, but she also thinks a woman should have the right to choose abortion.

Unfortunately, when we try to show these folks that Catholicism is a smorgasbord rather than a cafeteria, where every last teaching is to be not only eaten, but also savoured, we’re usually shouted down for trying to force-feed them.

Recently, however, I’ve noticed an even more disturbing trend when it comes to Catholic teaching; something I would like to call Google Catholicism.

Let me explain…

My brother-in-law is in the last year of his radiology residency. Like all doctors, although his speciality is radiology, during his residency he has had to do stints in all areas of medicine from paediatrics to gerontology and everything in between. Early on in his residency he spent some time in the ER of a major downtown hospital. When I asked him about this experience, he said the worst part was that most patients that came in had already self-diagnosed from the internet, and that they were telling him the treatment he was supposed to prescribe. It seems that 30 seconds on Google supersedes 12+ years (at that particular moment) of university education.

A parallel can be extended to the Catholic Church. Pope Francis, himself, even likened “the Church as a field hospital after battle.”

From having watched and meditated upon the goings-on at the recent Synod on the Family; it’s left me wondering if the Church is a field hospital where the patients, and in some cases even the nurses, are telling the surgeons what treatments to prescribe. Those who were once Cafeteria Catholics, who picked and chose which teachings of the Church to follow to suit their needs, have now become Google Catholics, telling the Church which teachings to change to suit their needs.

The biggest hullabaloo seemed to centre on the question of Communion for divorced and re-married Catholics. Although there is a recognition of a state of sin (cf Mt 19:3-8; Mk 10:2-9 and Lk 16:18), the proponents of this practice, and others, seem intent on flying in the face of Christ’s teachings. The Magisterium is right in saying that there are simply some teachings that cannot be changed, because they come from Christ Himself; yet there are still some, both inside and outside the Church, who insist they know better.

On this matter, as well as any other (especially homosexuality), the pat argument of the Google Catholic is to trot out the ubiquitous Pope Francis quote: “Who am I to judge?” Although correct in that we do not have the right of final judgement on a person’s soul, we do have a responsibility to judge each other’s actions so as to best help one another present the best case possible when it comes to our final judgement. Added to this problem is the fact that this quote is usually wildly misused, misunderstood and presented out of context. Pope Francis himself recently explained: "On that occasion I said this: If a person is gay and seeks out the Lord and is willing, who am I to judge that person?" (cited in New Catholic Reporter) In this statement there is a notion of love for a sinner seeking mercy; a seeking out of the Lord and a willingness to follow in His ways of repentance.

Just as there is an inherent danger to our physical health when we self-diagnose and self-prescribe off the internet without the foundation of a sound medical education, so too is there an inherent danger to our spiritual health when we self-diagnose and self-prescribe for our sins. Being a Google Catholic can be great, if you allow it to open the doors to the smorgasbord of Catholic teaching. However, if you insist on being a Google Catholic to put yourself ahead of Christ and the 2000+ year cumulative teachings of the Church He founded – then you’re playing with fire.

Why Be Catholic?

Dear Theophilous,

I’m what most people would consider a cradle Catholic, more or less. Shortly after I was born I was baptized at St. Anselm’s parish in Toronto. Even though it wasn’t their home parish, they had gotten married there, and thus the decision to have me baptized there. I don’t think any of us have ever been back to St. Anselm’s since.

I also have vague recollections of my sister’s baptism when I was 3, but most of my early childhood memories are of Sunday School at the local United Church. It wasn’t until I was 9 years-old and my mom went through the RCIA program that we started attending St. John Chrysostom and I made my first Reconciliation and Eucharist. From that point on, for all intents and purposes, was raised a cradle Catholic.

During those formative years, if you had asked me Why I was Catholic, I would have given the question about a 10-second thought before answering, “Because my parents are.” Actually, growing up in the Catholic school system, it just seemed natural that everybody and their parents (and their parents’ parents) were Catholic. It was just the natural order of things.

As I’ve been mellowing in my old age, however, I’ve been giving more and more thought to the question Why be Catholic? It’s a question I’ve heard discussed by a variety of different personalities on The Catholic Channel on SiriusXM, giving much food for thought. It’s a question I knew I had to answer once I saw it emblazoned on a banner in my mother-in-law’s parish in London, Ontario.

I know the answer, “Because my parents are,” will no longer hold water when it comes to defending my Catholic faith, so I narrowed it down to three key reasons:

• The Eucharist
• The Truth
• My Family

The Eucharist

The Catechism of the Catholic Church rightly states that “The Eucharist is the source and summit of Christian life.” (CCC #1324) The Catechism tells us how all other sacraments, and all other life in the Church are bound up in the Eucharist and oriented toward it. How could they not be? This is the body and blood, soul and divinity of our Lord and Saviour. Really, the Eucharist is the be all and end all of what it means to be Catholic, and in my mind, what it means to be Christian.

Believing in the Eucharist isn’t easy. It never was. Even those who knew Christ and followed him daily had a hard time. During the Eucharistic Discourse in the Gospel according to St. John, when Jesus tells His followers they need to eat His flesh and drink His blood they grumble, “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?” (Jn 6:60) And then when Jesus reiterated our need for the Eucharist, “many drew back and no longer walked with Him.” (Jn 6:66).

Knowing the Eucharist, understanding the Eucharist, loving the Eucharist; none of it is easy; but one you do, it is the most beautiful thing on Earth. I’ve heard it said that if we truly knew in our hearts what the Eucharist contained – wild horses could not keep us away from it. Some of the most profound moments in my life have come before the Blessed Sacrament, my heart physically pulled towards the Tabernacle; the ache of my suffering eased by the sacrifice on the altar; the tranquil warmth that fills me when I consume the Eucharist.

It is through the Eucharist that I love that I have come to know Christ’s love for me, a sinner.

The Truth

If the Eucharist is the source and summit of our faith, our faith hinges on a single question that Jesus asks us: “Who do you say that I am?” (Mk 8:29, Mt 16:15) How we answer that question changes everything. C.S. Lewis tells us we can answer this question in only in one of three ways: that Christ a liar, a lunatic, or He is Lord. Personally, I pick the third option each and every time.

Whenever defending doctrine or explaining a point of faith, I like to begin the discussion by asking this very question. The starting point with Christians is that He is Lord, God, one with the Father and the Holy Spirit. (If this isn’t the answer, there’s a whole other conversation that needs to take place). If Christ is God, then we have to take what He says as the Truth – like it or not.

Christ Himself tells us, “I am the way, the truth and the life.” (Jn 14:6) It’s not a boast – it’s a simple fact.

There are a lot of Christ’s teachings that are difficult, even more so now in the 21^st Century than they were in the 1^st Century (and look what they did to Jesus back then). When we propose that our truths are better than Christ’s, are we then not presupposing that we are greater than God?

The Truth that Christ gives us in His Gospel is like a beacon in the dark. The Truth guides us to the joy of eternal life in Him. The seas may be, and usually are, rough; but the guiding light of Christ’s love and Truth bring us to safety. Instead of binding us up, the Truth liberates us to not worry about the raging waters around us, but to take comfort in the safe harbour we are going to enter.

My Family

The joy of faith is not something to be kept in secret, a lamp hidden under a bushel basket; rather, it is to be shared freely. I love the expression: Don’t just keep the faith. Give it away!

I always teach my students that the true meaning of Love is “to want what is best for the other.” If I truly love my wife and if I truly love my son, how could I ever imagine to keep from them the beauty I have found in the Eucharist and the Truth? There is nothing I want more for them than the love of God.

This is how the faith has come down to us over 2,000 years. Passed from generation to generation, parent to child. I can’t think of any better gift I could give my son, a gift that will not only last a lifetime, but for all eternity.

Why Be Catholic? Is a question I had never given too much thought to, but it’s a question which defines who I am; who my family is.  This is a question I no longer run from, but embrace and am proud to answer.

Crying the Confiteor

Dear Theophilous,

I’ve always been a little bit on the sappy side. Ever since I was a kid, it hasn’t taken a whole lot to get me to tear up. At a very young age I learned why they called them tearjerker movies, but I never could really understand why there were tearjerker commercials on TV. Even today, if there is the least bit of emotional sentiment being expressed, I find my eyes begin to well up and I need to choke back the tears.

As I’ve gotten older, I have become better at keeping my emotions in check as my surroundings dictate. I really need to be caught off guard by a film I’m showing in class for the tears to come (can’t be letting the kids see me cry). If I do feel the tears starting to come, usually the classroom is dark enough for me to get to the door and step out into the hallway until I can get things back under control.

In other words – I don’t cry in public…

…until one day this past summer.

During the summer holidays I like to get to daily Mass at least once a week. The day of the week changes based on what we’ve got going on, or if I can get myself out of bed in time; but I do make the effort to get there at least one day through the week. I like the simplicity of the daily Mass, and I like the quiet. I especially like the quiet (in particular those moments of silence when music fills the void on Sundays – not that I mind the music, it’s just sometimes silence is nice too).

At this one particular daily Mass in the middle of August, as the 2 dozen or so of us in the congregation were saying the Confiteor the tears started coming, and there was no way I could stop them.

The long and the short of the whole story – I realized what I was saying, and I realized how unworthy I am of God’s mercy.

Although it has taken me a while to get up the courage to share this with you, dear Theophilous, I would like to share the Confiteor with you, and then take you through the thoughts that stirred so much emotion.

I confess to Almighty God,

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have greatly sinned,

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,

through my fault, through my fault,

through my most grievous fault;

therefore I ask the blessed Mary ever-Virgin,

all the Angels and Saints,

and you, my brothers and sisters,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Amen.

So now bit by bit, couplet by couplet, my reflections on the Confiteor…

I confess to Almighty God,

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

Confession is nothing new. My family and I try to make a regular habit of it (though it is admittedly more irregular than regular). I had been away from the sacrament for some time, and found it difficult at first, but now I find I get antsy if we haven’t been in a while.

On this particular day, at this particular Mass, with these particular words, I began to realize just how personal my confession is. It’s not just some list to be rattled off by rote, or a pat “The usual” or “The same as last time”. This time I was acutely aware of the reality of my sins and that they hurt my relationship with God. I also became more conscious of the fact that the Father already knows my sins, and that I He would be more merciful if I came clean and repented myself.

This time I was also struck that I was confessing to the whole congregation – my brothers and sisters. Not only did my sins affect my relationship with God, but with the entire Body of Christ – the Church. It felt weird at first to be confessing to others in the congregation, but then I was comforted by the words of St. James’ letter: Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed. (James 5:16) It brought me solace to know that no matter how great of a sinner any of us are, we’re in this together. That we are the Body of Christ, and that when one part of the body is ill, the rest of the body pulls together to heal itself.

that I have greatly sinned,

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,

Even on the days when I’m just rattling through the Confiteor, these lines act like a mini examination of conscience for me. My mind starts racing and I can never seem to get through the list before we’ve moved on to the next couplet.

This, however, was really the moment when I realized the seriousness of what I was saying. The moment when the tears started coming.

This time I stopped, though. I slowed down and listened to what I was saying… I have greatly sinned. There should be no trivializing of my sin. No rushing through the list to make sure I didn’t miss anything. If my sins are great enough to list, then they are great enough to have offended God. Although there is a difference between venial and mortal sin, all sin offends God. All sin drives a wedge between ourselves and the Father who loves us. All sin is great in its harm.

So then I dug deep. I recalled not only my sins of action, but also the thoughts that had germinated those sins. I also recalled the thoughts that started me on the road toward sin, but through the grace of God I was able to catch before they came to fruition; thoughts that are still sin as Christ taught us. (cf Mt 5:28)

And then there is the kicker: in what I have done and in what I have failed to do. Not only to I need to recall all of my sins, but I also need to remember when I should have done something but I didn’t. How many times had I passed the homeless on the street, turned a blind eye to someone who needed help, shirked away instead of defending the Church.

I have sinned… lots… and I have sinned greatly… and I just at that moment realized what that meant to my relationship with God and others.

And matters were only getting worse (and the tears copious) as I knew that this sinning was…

through my fault, through my fault,

through my most grievous fault;

I had nowhere to hide; no one to blame it all on. These sins are mine and mine alone. I knew what I was doing (but maybe pretended I didn’t). I had made the conscious decision. It’s always a humbling experience to admit it… but these sins were my own fault and nobody else’s.

I wanted to do more than pound my chest. I wanted to wail and rend my garments. I was devastated. My sins felt greater than me, that I could not overcome them to receive God’s mercy.

Thank goodness we have friends greater than this world to help us through…

therefore I ask the blessed Mary ever-Virgin,

all the Angels and Saints,

A sense of calm began to wash over me. I could ask for help. All those who are close to the Lord would pray for me: Mary, His Mother; the Angels who surround, serve and worship the Lord; and the Saints, those humans who would tell you that they were the greatest sinners. They would all be praying for me, as well as for you.

With the list of sins that had just flashed through my mind, I needed all the help I could get; and the closer the help was to God, the better.

and you, my brothers and sisters,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.

And yes, I knew I had to pray for all of my brothers and sisters in Christ, because I sure knew that I needed their prayers. Just like St. James exhorted us to do, we needed to pray for one another for healing. The journey through life is too arduous to do it alone, we need one another’s help. When one of us falls, the others need to pick them up through prayer and spiritual guidance.

Reinforced with the knowledge that I had all of that prayer behind me, the tears subsided and the sniffling stopped. As we moved into the liturgy of the word, my mind and heart felt like fertile ground for the seed of God’s wisdom. And the Eucharist, my heart itself was moved to a warmth that spread through my whole body.

Although I’ve never said the Confiteor by rote since; always aware of what I’m saying, aware of the damage my sins have done; I’ve never been so acutely aware of my sins and God’s bountiful mercy for those who seek it, as I was on that August morning in a quiet suburban church.

Live - Life - Sacrifice



 

Dear Theophilus,

When our parish catechist, Patrick Sullivan, starts the parent information meeting for the sacramental preparation courses (Reconciliation, Eucharist and Confirmation) he always begins with the line: “Children love what their parents love!” Personally, I couldn’t agree more, and this probably explains why my son loves the Montreal Canadiens (even though we live near to Toronto), playing soccer (which he properly calls: football), and why he dotes on his mother. He emulates the love that he sees.

It should have come as no surprise then that this summer at the age of 10 he decided he wanted to write a blog. He would have spent the better part of two months watching daddy frantically pound away at the keyboard, working away on multiple projects. It should also come as no surprise that the focus of Michael’s blog is the Catholic faith.

Mike has called his blog Live– Life – Sacrifice. When I asked him why, he just shrugged his shoulders, said he had never thought about it, but I guess to him, it just sounds right. So far he’s only written two blog posts, both of which plumb the depths of some pretty deep theological questions: the Trinity and Heaven’s existence.

I’m always amazed at how profound this guy’s thought process is. I think sometimes we sell our kids short; they understand way more than we think they do, and their faith has yet to be tarnished by the devils of this earthly world.

Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. (Mt 18:3)

Please stop by from time to time to see what wisdom this young mind has to share with us, and remember, whether you are a parent, Godparent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, friend or teacher – children are watching you, and Children love what their parents love.

And also remember to:

Live – Life – Sacrifice

Parents as First Evangelists



Dear Theophilus, 

Home is where the heart is. Home is also where the seeds of Christ are sown. Home is the first line of evangelization. Home is the Ecclesia Domestica. 

This has never been more apparent to me than this beautiful long weekend where Canadians (at least in Alberta, Ontario and Saskatchewan; according to my calendar) celebrate Family Day. Although we usually try to incorporate activities with our extended families on this weekend, this year we’ve also relished in the blessing of having the whole weekend to our immediate family. Each of us has had time to follow our own personal pursuits (writing this blog for example), while we’ve also come together for some great quality time both indoors and out. 

I always marvel at how God works in our lives, and this weekend has been no different. Our Family Day weekend began on Thursday night as my wife and I were able to attend a seminar at our parish on How to Raise Catholic Children – which our pastor aptly renamed: How to Raise Children Catholic. Fr. Charles’ talk could be summed up in one word: Eucharist. The source and summit of our faith must also be the source and summit of our family lives. 

This is where the role of parents as first evangelists, the Ecclesia Domsetica, comes in. 

As good friend PatrickSullivan puts it so well when talking to the parents of children preparing for First Reconciliation and First Communion: “Children love what their parents love. If parents love sports, then their children will love sports. If parents love the pursuit of wealth, then their children will love the pursuit of wealth. If parents love Christ, then their children will love Christ.” 

It warrants being repeated: 

If parents love Christ, then their children will love Christ. 

And children are not stupid either. They see and know the difference between what is said and what is. Too many parents will tell their children that God is important; that’s why they have their children sacramentalized like a religious checklist and drag them to church for Christmas and Easter; yet they do not live out the love of God the other 50 weeks of the year or in their daily lives. Children see this. Children understand this. 

Too often parents tell their children, “Do as I say, don’t do as I do.” Unfortunately, children would much rather do as their parents do. Parents would rather point to someone else, a saint, the parish priest or a Catholic school teacher; rather than take on the responsibility of evangelization themselves. Evangelization is hard work, particularly when the rest of society (especially in the media) tells you different. Parenting too is hard work, but through their own baptism evangelization must also be the parent’s first responsibility to their children. 

Parents must sow the seeds of Christ through the evangelization of their children. Once parents find the unbridled joy of the Eucharist, they will want nothing more than to share this with their children. Children who witness their parents fervently participating in the Eucharist (this does not necessarily mean taking an active role in ministry, but rather taking an active, prayerful role in the Mass), will want to come to know and participate in the Eucharist as well. Children who learn to love the Eucharist from an early age will garner a wisdom deeper than many adults, and they will grow to see the image of God in each human individual, treating them with the dignity that Twenty-First Century humanity so desperately craves.

What Would Jesus Do?

 

 

 

Dear Theophilus,

WWJD? What Would Jesus Do? The question is just about as ubiquitous as the colourful plastic bracelets. Unfortunately, I don’t think the majority of the people asking the question would be happy with the answer.

The question, WWJD? is usually followed by the questioner citing Christ: You shall love your neighbour as yourself, (Mt 22:39) or Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. (Jn 13:34) The intended meaning being that if you are a true Christian, then you will let others do whatever they please, not hold them up to a moral standard; that love must somehow equal permission.

This endemic problem stems from contemporary society’s habit to read their own perspective and opinion onto the sayings of Christ instead of reading what Christ has to say onto their perspective and opinion. As Michael Coren so aptly put it in his book Heresy, people are looking for God the Grandfather (doting and obliging) instead of God the Father (wise and guiding, yet firm with His love). We seem to have forgotten that sometimes love has to say, “No.”

The people who trot out the question, What Would Jesus Do? enrobing themselves in what they perceive to be the love of Christ, a love which will let them do their own will instead of God’s, are usually surprised by Jesus’ stronger words of love and what one should do:

Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called the least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. (Mt 5:17-19)

Guiding us to follow the Commandments God set out in His covenant with His people. That by following His law we will come to know greatness in heaven.

Christ also stated:

I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. (Lk 12:49-51)

The fire Christ promises is to purge us from our sinful ways. The division He brings is between those who choose to follow Him and those who reject His law.

I know that much of what I have just written would come across as being hardhearted. That, according to what many people in the world say today, I am being un-Christian. The crux of my point here returns to what I have already said, when we quote Christ saying Love your neighbour as yourself ; are we reading our own perspective onto Christ’s words, or are we reading His words onto our perspective? Do we really understand the true meaning of God’s love?

Christ’s love for us desires to bring us to an eternal wholeness, and this is a love He calls us to share with one another. Christ’s love strives to bring us out of our sinfulness and into the light of His ways, and this is the love that He calls us to share with one another. Christ’s love accepts us for who we are, yet challenges us to change for the better, to go and sin no more; and this is the love He calls us to share with one another.

In this light when we are faced with a moral dilemma, What Would Jesus Do? is a legitimate question to ask ourselves, and others. The question calls us to a higher moral standard; a divine moral standard at that. WWJD? demands that we mirror Christ’s love by keeping others from harm, calling them from their sinful ways. Perhaps the hardest thing of all for us to do when we strive to Do what Jesus did; is to judge sinful actions without being judgemental of the sinner.

The next time someone trying to argue for permission for their sinful ways tries to take the ethical upper hand by asking WWJD? followed by the usual Jesus quote: Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another; I will answer them as Jesus did: You are wrong because you know neither the scriptures nor the power of God. (Mt 22:29)