Friday, July 3, 2015

Dependent Independence

Old Glory at the Washington Monument
Michael A. Meyer (1985)
          Last night, as I was perusing the musings of fellow Tweeps, I came across a 2011 CBS News survey tweeted by CARA, a social science research center affiliated with my alma mater, Georgetown University. The survey asked American adults: “Do you happen to fly the American flag on special days like the Fourth of July or Flag Day?” To my surprise, the results suggest a connection between religious affiliation and flying the flag. Of those responding “yes,” 71% were Catholic, 66% were Mainline Protestant (whatever that means), 64% were Evangelical Christians (apparently they’re not Mainline Protestants), 61% were other religions, and 55% expressed no religious affiliation. The connection escaped me, so I moved on to other tweets. But by the dawn’s early light, it hit me. The connection between religious affiliation and flying the flag stems from the fact that the United States is founded on dependent independence.

          “So Mike,” you ask, “what’s dependent independence?” Well, in establishing the Thirteen Colonies as independent states by severing ties with the British crown, the Founding Fathers didn’t expect that we would or could go it alone. There’s a reason why the Declaration of Independence invokes God four times:

  • Declaring that the “Laws of Nature and Nature’s God” entitle us to assume our separate and equal station among the powers of the earth;
  • Establishing the self-evident truths “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness;”
  • “[A]ppealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions;” and
  • Firmly relying “on the protection of divine Providence.”

The Founding Fathers realized that our independence would always be dependent on God.

          Generally speaking, the Founding Fathers were educated men steeped in the classics. As such, they would have been well-versed in the sciences, philosophy and theology. They would have been familiar with Plato’s argument that humans can attain transcendent reality by using our reason to detach ourselves from the material world and to develop our ability to focus on transcendent “forms.” The Founding Fathers also would have known how Saint Augustine tempered that philosophical mouthful by arguing that while we can attain unity with transcendent reality (i.e., God), we cannot attain unity with God alone – we need God’s help. The key for Saint Augustine is humilitas – humility. “Augustine recognized, through his own experience, that it wasn’t what he did that brought him to union with God, but rather, it was what God was doing in his life.”[1] Union with transcendent reality, with self-evident truth, with God, comes from self-emptying, from the admission of need, from a declaration of dependence.

          So what’s the link between religious affiliation and flying the flag? Well, those with religious beliefs generally accept that that we’re created by a transcendent God, which means that all that we have and all that we need is provided to us by our Creator. In short, we humbly accept that we can’t go it alone; we need God. We need God for food; we need God for shelter; and yes, we even need God for “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” So when we fly the flag, we humbly acknowledge that our independence is a gift from God and that we cannot achieve or maintain that independence without “the protection of divine Providence.” By flying the flag we acknowledge, as the Founding Fathers did, that the only independence worth fighting for is dependent independence.

[1] Anthony Ciorra, The History of Christian Spirituality (Now You Know Media, 2012) at disk 1, track 26.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Top Ten Ways the Church Can Help Save the Environment

On the eve of the publication of Laudato Si', Pope Francis’ Encyclical on the environment, here’s my Top Ten Ways the Church Can Help Save the Environment.

10.  Bishops’ mitres double as rain barrels.
Canada Falls (Michael A. Meyer 2014)

9.  Shred and compost papal elector ballots instead of burning them.

8.  Shorter homilies to reduce greenhouse gases.

7.  Replace burning incense with evaporating essential oils.

6.  Ban smoking in Vatican City (after Pope Francis finishes the box of cubans he just received from Raoul).

5.  Start the Easter Vigil in complete darkness to save energy (oh, we already do that).

4.  Pack the pews on Christmas to keep everyone warm (oh, we already do that, too).

3.  Replace polyester vestments with natural fibers.

2.  Invoke the winged angels to fan the congregation on hot summer days.

1.  Crosses double as wind turbines.

Friday, June 12, 2015

Holy Buckets

On the fifth anniversary of my diaconal ordination, I am posting my first homily - given the following day - June 13, 2010, the Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C.

          I know what you’re thinking:  “What is he doing up there?  I know that my mother is resisting the urge to say, “Michael, get down from there right now!”  Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m wondering the same thing, and that reminds me of a story of a farmer who would carry two buckets of water up a hill every day to water his garden.  Over time, one of the buckets developed a hole, and as the farmer walked to his garden, the bucket would leak so his balance would be thrown off, his shoulders would get sore and the bucket would be half empty by the time he made it to the garden.  After some time the bucket finally said, “Farmer, I’m sorry I have a hole.  I have caused you much pain and have not been able to carry my full share of water to the garden.  I understand if you want to get rid of me and replace me with a new bucket.”  But the farmer replied, “Oh Bucket, when I realized you were leaking, I planted rose bushes along the side of the road where I carried you.  Haven’t you noticed all of the beautiful flowers that you have been watering everyday as we walk to the garden together?”  That bucket discovered that she was loved and accepted, holes and all, and that’s what today’s Gospel is about.

          In our Gospel passage, a known sinner marches into a Pharisee’s home and subjects herself to the ridicule of the community so she can wash and anoint Jesus’ feet.  What in the world caused her to do that?   Love.  Somehow, somewhere this woman discovered true love – God’s love.  She discovered that God loved her, faults and all.  And she just couldn’t contain herself.  That love flowed right through her in an extravagant act of devotion - washing and anointing the feet of the Anointed One.  We see the same devotion at the end of the Gospel with the women who received God’s love in the form of forgiveness or healing and devoted their lives to following Christ and serving him.  These women were able to love much, because they received and accepted much love. 

          God’s love is dynamic!  It moves us and shakes us.  And it’s like a lifesaver – it’s meant to be shared.  That’s because God can’t contain himself.  God bubbles over in love and good cheer, and he just has to share his good feelings with us so we can share them with each other.[1]  But in order to share God’s love, we have to allow ourselves to receive it first.  And that’s not always easy because a lot of people – myself included – spend a lot of time dwelling on our faults.  Now, acknowledging our faults isn’t a bad thing.  But if we hang onto our faults too tightly, they can dominate us.  We may even start defining ourselves by our faults:  “I’m no good at sports; I’m not good enough for that job promotion; I can’t drink out of a juice box without squirting juice all over myself.”  My girls say, “You don’t squeeze it, Daddy.” Obsessing about our faults blinds us to the beauty of our creation in the image of God.  We become unable see God in us and all the good we can do with his love.  We fail to smell those roses.     

          We have to receive God’s love with faith and confidence.  God never stops loving us – faults and all – and all he asks is that we return that love to him by sharing it with each other.  I’m not making this up.  You know that when we receive God’s love in the form of the Eucharist, we’re not told to hold him inside all to ourselves.  What’s the command we hear at the end of Mass? (Given by the Deacon, I would add).   We hear that same command toward the end of this Gospel.   We’re told to “Go!”  “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!”  Why?  Because the love of Christ is flowing right through us.  We’re leaking Jesus all over the place, and God wants us to carry his Living Water to the whole World.  When we truly accept God’s love – his mercy, his forgiveness, his sacrifice, his consolation – we can’t hold it in.  We want to share it with everyone we meet.  We’re flooded with an urgent need to return it to God through service to one another – just like the women in today’s Gospel.

          I know how they felt.  About seven or eight years ago, I returned to confession after almost 30 years of not going.  After that much time, I was so bogged down in my faults, that I really couldn’t see much good in me at all.  I was miserable.  But not long after that confession, I began to see beyond my faults to the God who never stopped loving me – faults and all.  And then I couldn’t contain myself. I wanted everyone around me to experience the love that I felt.  I read everything I could get my hands on; I became more active in the parish; I began praying more.  Jessica even started calling me Saint Michael – I’ve been called worse.  I began spiritual direction; I entered diaconate formation.  And now I stand here before all of you – the people who bring God’s love to me every day in so many ways:  through your support, your prayers, your kind words, and a lot of laughs.  I stand here praying that, in some small way, I can return that love to God in service to you as your Deacon. 

          Unfortunately, this bucket has a lot of holes in it.  Maybe you think yours does too.  But God loves us anyway – holes and all – and he still calls us to carry his Living Water to the World.  So do you know what that makes us?  Holy Buckets!

[1] Barron, Robert, Thomas Aquinas:  Spiritual Master (New York, Crossroad Publishing 2008) 107-108.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Real People – Memorial Day 2015

Private Fulton Henry Meyers
443rd Coast Artillery Battalion
Died:  November 9, 1942
North Africa Campaign, World War II
          The other day I heard a radio commentator vilify the idea of Memorial Day.  He explained that he thought that setting aside a day to glorify war was wrong and that it was especially wrong in the context of church services, parades and family barbecues.  I was a little surprised on hearing these words, not that they came from the mouth of that particular commentator, but because I, perhaps naively, thought that Memorial Day was a universally accepted holiday.  Who could object to dedicating a day to the memory of those who died to protect our freedom?  But then it dawned on me that this commentator just didn’t get it.  Memorial Day isn’t about war.  It’s about people - real people who gave their lives for others.  And that’s who Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel.

          Our familiar Gospel passage recalls the story of the rich man who’s looking for the secret to eternal life.  Jesus tells him in no uncertain terms that he must follow the commandments, sell all he has and give it to the poor.  He must live a life for others; he must live a life of selfless giving.  In short, it’s all about people.  Unfortunately, this rich man couldn’t do that.  He was too attached to his worldly goods, he was too comfortable with life as he knew it to accept the gift of eternal life.  And so he went away sad.

             The Gospel is clear – our lives are ordered to serve others.  “Service is the rent we pay for being.  It is the very purpose of life, and not something you do in your spare time."[1]  Service isn’t a chore – it’s a gift that fills us with great joy.  Just think of how good you feel when you do a good deed; when you help a friend in need; when you serve others.  That good feeling gives us a glimpse of the eternal life that is ours when we turn away from ourselves and dedicate our lives to others.

          And so on Memorial Day, we don’t celebrate or glorify war.  We hate war and the death and destruction it brings.  On Memorial Day we celebrate people. 

+ On Memorial Day we gather together as a faith community in our churches to remember real people who understood that there is no greater love than this:  “to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”  (John 15:13); 

+ On Memorial Day we come together as a nation at parades and civic services to honor real people who “gave the last full measure of devotion”[2] to safeguard the freedoms we enjoy, including religious freedom and the freedom of speech; and

+On Memorial Day, we come together with family and friends to celebrate real people, our grandparents, parents, uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters, who died in the service of others, whom we respect and miss and love so much.

          You know, that radio commentator just didn’t get it.  He’s so wrapped up in himself and his self-righteousness that he’s forgotten real people.  Like the rich man in today’s Gospel, he goes away sad.  We, on the other hand, can go away happy because we have the opportunity today and every day to listen to Jesus, to follow the example of those we honor today – to live a life of selfless giving, to remember that it’s all about real people, and thereby receive the gift of eternal life.

Readings:  Sirach 17:20-24; Psalm 32; Mark 10 17-27

[1] Marian Wright Edelman
[2] Abraham Lincoln, The Gettysburg Address (November 19, 1863).

Saturday, May 16, 2015

I Believe

I had a great hike with some great men today.  The reflection I gave on the hike follows:

          When Eric, Evan, Ken and I agreed that today’s theme would be “Why We Believe in God,” I didn't expect that it would take me so long to prepare this talk.  I didn't doubt or a lack reasons for why I believe in God.  My problem was that I had too many reasons; I had trouble choosing which ones best expressed why I believe.

        As a lawyer, I’m trained to gather   facts, review testimony and balance evidence to find the truth.  I've done my homework.  I can recite for you the several cosmological arguments for the existence of God based on motion – if an object in motion must be set in motion by some other object or force, then there must be a first “Unmoved Mover” that set it all in motion; causation – if things exist that are caused or created by other things, then there must be a first “Uncaused Cause” that made it all happen; gradation – if there are greater degrees of perfection in qualities like beauty, goodness, or knowledge, then there must be a perfect standard by which all such qualities are measured; and intelligent design – if we understand that the universe operates in an orderly, intelligent manner, then it must have been designed by an “Intelligent Designer.” 

These arguments all make sense to me; they appeal to my sense of reason; and they've been put forth over the centuries by minds greater than mine whom I respect very much.  But intellectual arguments like these didn't convince me of the existence of God or lead me to some dramatic conversion.  They simply serve as rational support for what I've come to believe from my own experiences during the 49 years of my life. 

+ When I see a beautiful painting of a waterfall, I know that it was created by a talented artist with an eye for beauty.  So why wouldn't I believe that the waterfall itself was created by a talented artist with an eye for beauty?

+ When I marvel at the human feats performed by a robot, I know that it was created by an intelligent engineer with a mind for complex design.  So why wouldn't I believe that the human body was created by an intelligent engineer with a mind for complex design?

+ When I read the laws of civilized nations, I know that they were conceived by thoughtful legislators with a sense for justice.  So why wouldn't I believe that the laws of nature that speak to us in our hearts were conceived by a thoughtful legislator with a sense for justice?

+ When my parents taught me not to run with scissors and to eat my vegetables, I learned that they were right and that I could trust that they had my best interests at heart.  So why wouldn't I think that they were right and trust that they had my best interests at heart when they taught me to believe in God?

+ When I study new things, I learn that there’s always a teacher who knows more than I do.  So why wouldn't I believe that there’s teacher who knows more than we all do?

+ When I feel called to serve others, I’m filled with a sense of purpose.  So why wouldn't I believe that when I’m called to serve others, I’m called by one who gave me that purpose?

+ When I’m given a special gift, I know that I’m loved by the one who gave it to me.   So why wouldn't I believe that the gifts I cherish most – my life, my family and my friends – were given to me by one who loves me most?

         As you know, I could go on for hours.  Suffice it to say that I've gathered the facts, I've reviewed the testimony, I've balanced the evidence, and I've found the Truth.  That’s why I believe.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

There is Your Mother

I didn't preach today, so I'm posting a reflection I gave several years ago on Motherhood.  Happy Mothers Day Mom, Jessica, Momma and to all Mothers!

“Woman, there is your son.”  “There is your mother.”  (John 19:  25-27)

          My first reaction to these words arose from the lawyer within me – in these simple words, Jesus is getting his affairs in order. But what affairs did Jesus have to get in order? He didn't have wealth or property, a home or livestock. He had none of the trappings of wealth of his time. He gave all of that up when he entered his ministry. He didn’t even have the clothes on his back anymore. The soldiers who would crucify him had just divided those up among themselves. Yet, we can’t say that Jesus had nothing because we learn in these simple words that there, standing below Him, was His mother – the mother who loved Him. For in humbling Himself to share in our humanity, Jesus received a very special human gift – a mother.
Photo by Jessica Jenney

         This poignant moment reveals to us in Jesus and Mary something that we ourselves can understand – a very deep, yet human emotion – the love between a mother and a child. For Jesus and Mary, this love developed over some 33 years of the blessings, the happiness, the fears and the sadness that they shared together. We share these very same experiences with our mothers and with our children. We aren't perfect, and our relationships aren't always ideal. Sometimes we may feel that we aren't loved, and sometimes we may feel that we don't love enough. But we still understand this special relationship between a mother and a child that's expressed so simply and meaningfully in these words. Whether we feel that we live up to it or not, we still understand it.

          While Jesus, no doubt, brought great joy to Mary, He wasn't necessarily an easy child. Mary and Joseph fled their home to a foreign land to protect Him when they feared for His safety. He strayed from his parents at a very young age, causing them considerable heartache. Upon hearing that Mary had come to see Him after He had left home to begin His ministry, His response was to ask, “Who is my Mother?” At the Wedding at Cana, He initially rebuked His mother’s request to spare the bridegroom embarrassment when they ran out of wine. But even Jesus couldn't ignore His mother. He did as she asked, without her having to ask a second time. Despite these difficult moments, as He hang beaten, scourged, stripped naked, nailed to a cross, humiliated and scorned by the very people He came to save, there she stood, loving her son. How often have we upset our mothers only to find that our mothers were still there for us when we were at our worst?

          A mother’s love is profound and simple at the same time. It expresses itself in the extraordinary challenges we face in our lives, but most deeply in ordinary day-to-day life experiences. The Bible tells us of the great and extraordinary events that Jesus and Mary shared together. But even though the Bible doesn't tell us, we know that Mary performed the chores of childcare every day for Jesus just because she was His mother. Did you ever consider that the Blessed Virgin Mary changed the Son of God’s diapers? Now that’s a chore that proves that God has a sense of humor. We also know that Mary and Jesus must have shared ordinary day-to-day experiences that were special to them, as mother and son, experiences that although small, contributed to that special love they shared as mother and child.

          I am blessed to have witnessed and received this special love from several women in my life. I remember my Grandma Meyer letting my brother and me pick out any toy we wanted when we visited her during the summer, and the letter she wrote me two days before she died to thank me for a birthday card – I still have that letter. I remember hearing my Grandma Gallo shriek at the sight of worms just to make us laugh, and sitting with her on her gold couch under an itchy wool blanket drinking Tom Collins Mix (just the Mix for us, though I can’t vouch for what may have been in hers). I see the sacrifice that my wife Jessica continues to make having given up a career she worked hard to build in order to stay at home with our daughters, and I remember the time that she insisted on staying in the Emergency Room with our daughter Annie while she received stitches, even though Jessica grows faint at the sight of blood (she didn't faint). I’ve seen my mother-in-law’s tears over the son she lost almost 20 years ago, and the telephone conversations she has with Jessica almost every day, just because. I think of countless laughs with my Aunt Anne, my Aunt Carol, who treats me like her own son, and my Aunt Bette, who encouraged me to run for President and always told Jessica and me that we were among her favorite people. And, of course, I think of my mother - I remember my mother reading to me, and teaching me to make pork chops. I remember her volunteering in the Band Parents Association, even though that really wasn’t her thing. I remember her sitting in the audience with proud tears in her eyes at every graduation and awards ceremony. And I will never forget how she recently told me that I have never disappointed her. I know that’s not true. But it is testament to a mother’s love that she at least temporarily forgot my many shortcomings.

          In the third of the seven last words, Jesus commends His mother to the care of the unnamed disciple whom He loves. Though the disciple is believed to be John, Jesus is really entrusting His mother to our care. For Jesus knew that we would understand the depth of the love He had for His mother, developed through the ordinary and extraordinary events of human life. And Jesus knew that we would understand the need to cherish this very special gift from God. I firmly believe that a mother’s love for her child is the closest earthly example we have to God’s love for us. Mary is the patroness of that love. For God so loved the world that He gave His only son – and so did Mary.

          So in honor of Mary, in honor of our mothers, grandmothers, the mothers of our children, and all of the mothers who have touched our lives, let us pray together:

Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with you.
Blessed art thou among women, and 
Blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.
Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners
Now, and at the hour of our death. Amen

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Live Loved - Love Living - Live Loving

I had the privilege of giving the homily at my Uncle Bob's Memorial Mass this morning.     

        When I graduated from law school more than 20 years ago, Uncle Bob gave me this pen – a Montblanc Meisterstück fountain pen. Many would agree that Montblanc makes some of the finest pens in the world and that the Meisterstück fountain pen is Montblanc’s finest pen. This pen speaks volumes to me of the kind of person Uncle Bob was: he appreciated the fine things of life, and he was very generous and loving. Uncle Bob bore the hallmarks of a man of faith: he lived loved, he loved living, and he lived loving. That’s what our Gospel passage and Uncle Bob’s example call us to do, too.

          We heard in our Gospel that whoever hears God’s word and believes in him “has passed from death to life.” (John 5: 24) “The passage from death to life is not a future promise; it happens now.”[1] God’s gift of eternal life isn't dangling somewhere out of arm’s reach to give us hope for a better life after this one. It’s available to us right now. “’Eternal life’ is life itself, real life, which can also be lived in the present age and is no longer challenged by physical death.”[2] God sent his only Son to conquer death so that we can live life to its fullest now. God wants us to enjoy his creation; he wants us to love living. But to do that, we have to free ourselves from the chains of death by believing in the Resurrection and the Life. We have to live knowing that we’re loved by God. We have to live loved.

          Believing isn't always easy. Sickness, death, broken relationships, financial troubles, you name it, this life is full of serious problems that challenge our belief in an all-loving God. I have no answer for why a faith-filled man like Uncle Bob would suffer from Alzheimer’s disease and cancer. But “[f]aith is like a bright ray of sunlight. It enables us to see God in all things as well as all things in God.”[3] As our first reading from Revelation tells us, “God’s dwelling is with the human race.” (Revelation 21:3) Faith in God and his promise of eternal life opens our eyes to God’s loving presence in every aspect of our lives. Faith gives strength to the weary, comfort to the ill, courage to the dying and solace to the mourning. Saint Paul said it perfectly in his letter to the Romans: “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31b) With God in our lives, we have nothing to fear. We have every reason to live and to enjoy all of the wonderful things in life. We have every reason to love living, because we’re living loved.

          How do we know when we’re living loved? We love living, and we live loving. (I’ll give you a moment to let you catch up with all of those “Ls”). Love is dynamic, not static. It has to move. So when we open ourselves to receive God’s love through faith, we can’t hold it in; we have to share it. Faith is “an acceptance of God’s grace and a willingness to let that grace flow through us to others.”[4] So people of faith, people who live loved, live loving. Uncle Bob was a man of faith. He lived loved, he loved living, and he lived loving.

          Uncle Bob lived loved as a faithful Catholic – attending Mass regularly, serving as an usher at several parishes and, later in life, helping out at BINGO. During my last visit with Uncle Bob, he spoke beautifully about his Catholic faith to a minister who dropped by for a visit. When she asked whether his illness and prognosis challenged his faith in God, he looked at her incredulously and said, “No, I know that I’m safe in God’s hands. That’s what I believe.” Then when the minister told him that she was Lutheran he said, “Get out!” So much for ecumenical dialogue. Nonetheless, Uncle Bob lived loved.

          Uncle Bob loved living. He loved the Giants and the Yankees, jazz and big band music. He loved the Jersey shore, where he taught his kids to body surf, and he loved sharing life’s little treasures with his family. After regaling me with stories about bullfights in Panama and chatting up music greats like Anita O’Day and Joni James at the bar at the Meadowbrook, Uncle Bob said, “Michael, there’s a lot of good stuff going on in life. You just have to open your eyes a little bit.” Uncle Bob loved living.

          Uncle Bob lived loving. He loved animals – volunteering as a dolphin soother and fish counter at the Mote Marine Laboratory in Florida and never passing up the opportunity to throw a ball for a dog. We Meyers were convinced that our dog Molly would die of a heart attack because Uncle Bob wouldn't quit throwing, and Molly wouldn't quit retrieving. He loved his country, singing the National Anthem with his hand over his heart no matter where it was played.

          But most of all, most of all, Uncle Bob loved his family. Every year on Memorial Day Uncle Bob paid his respects at Grandpa’s grave and then stopped by to visit Aunt Louise and Uncle Lou. He held his mother’s hand on the day she died. He loved golfing with his brothers and teasing his sisters. He made it a tradition on Christmas Eve to attend the Vigil Mass and then treat his family to a fine meal at a great restaurant. He endured the long commute from New York to make his son’s baseball game, and danced the hula at a Disney World luau to make his children laugh. He proudly bragged about his children, his grandchildren, his step-grandchildren and his Roly Poly. And he gave his Godson one of the finest pens in the world – a Montblanc Meisterstück fountain pen. Uncle Bob lived loving.

          As Uncle Bob’s cancer progressed, Susan shared how striking it was to her that the sicker and weaker he became, the more often he said, “I am the luckiest man in the world; I have a loving family.” That’s the testimony of a man of faith, a man who lived loved, who loved living, and who lived loving. Those are the words of the man we love so much that we faithfully commend his spirit into God’s hands, where we believe that he will live loved forever.

Readings: Revelation 21: 1-5a, 6b-7; Psalm 23; Romans 8: 31b-35, 37-39; John 5: 24-29

[1] Francis J. Maloney, “The Gospel of John,” Sacra Pagina, vol. IV, Daniel J. Harrington, ed. (Collegeville, Liturgical Press 1998) at 179.
[2] Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth – Holy Week:  From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection (San Francisco, Ignatius Press, 2011) at 83.
[3] Saint Francis de Sales.
[4] Robert Barron, “Into the Garden,” Lent Reflections with Father Robert Barron, Day 2 (February 19, 2015).