Kept in Our Hearts

          A wonderful lady died last week at the age of 94, and we buried her this past Saturday.  The homily I gave at her Mass of Christian burial follows.

Eternal Rest grant unto her O Lord.  And let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul rest in peace.

          Many years ago a poor, young girl went to her local parish to sign up for religious education classes so she could receive her First Holy Communion.  Much to her disappointment, she was turned away; they had no chair for her to sit in.  She wanted to receive Communion so much that her father offered to bring a chair to the class every week for her to sit in.  But the answer was still no.  This little girl had a burning desire in her heart to receive our Lord in the Eucharist, and she never stopped searching for a way.  Several years later, with the help of some very generous Carmelite Sisters consecrated to Our Lady of Guadalupe, that young girl found Christ in the Eucharist.  That little girl, Mary Kolacovich, known to us as Mary, Mom, Grandma Mary, and Baba, searched for the Lord and found him.  And that’s what our Gospel reading and Baba’s life example call us to do, too.

          Now, I’ll be the first to admit that our Gospel passage about finding the child Jesus in the Temple is an unusual choice for a funeral.  There is a method to my madness, though.  You see, Baba had a strong devotion to our Blessed Mother.  She was named after Mary, and that wonderful experience with the Carmelite Sisters gave her a particular devotion to Mary under the title of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  Baba prayed the rosary, and she had several icons of the Blessed Mother around her house, including the one depicting Our Lady of Guadalupe that we've placed up here in the sanctuary.  And we can’t forget “Big Mary,” the 3 foot statue of the Blessed Mother that always stood in a prominent place in her homes.  Madge and I think it actually depicts another saint, but it was the Blessed Mother to Baba, and that’s all that matters.

          Baba’s devotion to the Blessed Mother was much deeper than just statues, pictures or rosary beads.  She shared with the Blessed Mother what Pope Benedict XVI called “a journeying faith, a faith that is repeatedly shrouded in darkness and has to mature by persevering through the darkness.”[1]  Like the Blessed Mother in our Gospel passage, Baba searched for Jesus and found him, but she didn't always understand him.  Even with such remarkable faith as a child, there was a time in Baba’s life when she wasn't a regular church-goer.  And let’s face it, she didn't always hold things quietly in her heart either; she could be tough and loud when she wasn't happy.  I think the first words I learned in Croatian were “Ti si mali vrag!” – “You’re a little devil!”  Now I'd like to ask Madge, Joseph and Richard, what your mother would have done to you if you had stayed behind in Jerusalem like Jesus did and she had to come looking for you?  You would've been kneeling on rice for a week, wouldn't you?  Were any of you smart enough to sweep the rice aside when she wasn't looking?

          But as our second reading tells us, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.  Baba may not have always understood Jesus’ teaching, but like the Blessed Mother, “she [kept] it in her heart and allow[ed] it to mature by persevering through the darkness.”[2]  She returned to the Church, to this Church, which played such an important role in her faith journey.  She and Grandpa Joe could always be counted on to bring up the gifts for the Eucharist, and now they stand together again before the Lord’s table.  Father Steve tells me that Baba still kept in touch with this parish even after moving to El Paso some 20 years ago, writing letters, sending contributions and buying raffle tickets.  She was very proud of her Croatian heritage and very proud of her Catholic faith.  This Church brought the two together, and it gave her great joy.  So on behalf of Mary’s family, I say to you, Father, and to this Church family, hvala lijepa for being the wonderful faith community that you are.  Baba referred to you as “her people.”  She also referred to Mexicans as “her people,” but we never understood that one.  Baba’s faith journey continued in El Paso, where she was a faithful communicant at Our Lady of Peace Church.  On Sunday, you could always find her sitting in the second or third row near the choir to hear Madge sing or chatting in the Narthex after Mass with anyone who’d listen.  Sometimes you’d find her chatting in Church during Mass with anyone who’d listen too.

          Baba matured in her faith and mellowed with age.  In her golden years, she became very gentle and full of grace, unless you happened to be standing between her and the buffet table at the Golden Corral.  Of course, she had her gripes and complaints, we all do, but she loved life and she loved her family and friends, two sure signs that the love of Christ burned brightly in her heart.  She loved music; she loved to talk.  She loved to dance; she loved to talk.  She loved Richard Gere and Goran Višnjić (the Croatian actor from the TV show ER).  She loved to eat out and bring home the leftovers; and she loved to talk.  But most of all, she loved us.

          ╬ She loved us by always remembering our birthdays, by writing us letters and calling us on the phone;

          ╬ She loved us by telling us stories that made us laugh until we wet our pants, whether she meant to be funny or not;

          ╬ She loved us by teaching us to be generous to others by the example of her charitable works;

          ╬ She loved us by baking us banana bread, povitica and, my favorite, apple cake;

          ╬ She loved us by pretending to be afraid of a plastic snake over, and over and over again, just to make her great grandchildren laugh; and

          ╬ She loved us by keeping us in her heart and praying for us, all the time. 

By turning to the Blessed Mother as her role model, Baba became a great role model of love for us.  There’s a lesson in her life for all of us.  She sought the Lord, and she found him.  What a blessing it has been to have her in our lives.

          You know, there’s another reason I chose this Gospel reading for the funeral this morning.  This passage was the assigned Gospel reading for Mass on June 8, the day Baba died.  Baba died on the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, her patroness, who is depicted in the beautiful stained glass window in the center to your left.  If she had to leave us, I couldn't think of a more fitting day.  On the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, the Church celebrates the interior life of the Blessed Mother:  her joys and sorrows, her virtues and hidden perfections, and above all, her maternal love for her son Jesus and her compassionate love for all persons.  Because Baba tried so hard to imitate the Blessed Mother’s love for Christ and for all of us, we can take great comfort in the words of our first reading:  the “Lord will be [her] light forever, and [she] will grieve no more.”

          Baba, thank you for your faith.  Thank you for your love.  We will keep you in our hearts forever. 

          Mi te volimo – We love you!

---

[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth:  The Infancy Narratives (New York, Random House, 2012) at 125. 

[2] Id.

To Life, Homily for the Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 9, 2013

          “The Fiddler” is one of the many surrealist paintings by Marc Chagall that reflected the life and culture of his Eastern European, Jewish childhood.  In his tradition, a violinist played at all major ceremonies of life – bar mitzvahs, weddings, funerals and festivals – because of the belief that we can achieve communion with God through music and dance.  The Fiddler represents the changes and phases of life and God’s presence through it all.  In this painting, Chagall’s Fiddler has a green face, a symbol of life and living; he’s perched on a roof, which represents the uncertainty and precariousness of life; and he’s playing his fiddle with a joyful smile on his face, a reminder of how we should face life’s challenges.  Chagall’s Jewish roots taught him that life is a gift from God that’s meant to be enjoyed and celebrated.  And that’s what today’s readings are talking about.

          Our first reading and our Gospel tell us of parallel miracles.  In our passage from Kings, God answers Elijah’s prayer for the return of life’s breathe to the widow’s son.  And in our Gospel, Jesus himself calls the widow’s only son back to life.  These powerful stories aren't simply about miracles – they’re about the miracle of life.  They teach us that our God is a God of life who liberates us from death.  “This call to life isn't just meant for the man in the coffin.  The call is meant for us too.”[1]

          God is life, and our lives are gifts from God.  That’s why we’re called to support and protect life from conception to natural death.  “Throughout his ministry among us, Jesus was a staunch protector of life.”[2]  He healed the sick and restored the dead to life.  Jesus didn't come to die.  He wasn't a masochist.  He came to live and to bring life abundantly to all of us.[3] “In the person of his Son, God visits his people and endows [us] with the fullness of life”[4] – life everlasting.  Just as Elijah and Jesus entrust the resuscitated sons to their mothers, God entrusts us with the gift of life.  The question for us, then, is:  How are we going to live it?

          Albert Einstein reportedly said that “There are two ways to live:  you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”   It’s our choice.  We all know that life can be tough.  Life’s challenges and difficulties throw us out of balance every day.  And sometimes when we've already fallen down, it seems like life just keeps piling on.  But life is also filled with tremendous joy.  God wants us to be happy.  He wants the joy in our lives, which reflects God himself, to be the constant that carries us through the tough times so that we cherish our lives, celebrate them and love them.  He wants us to live in his eternal happiness right now.  Life is a miraculous gift.  Whether or not we choose to live it for the miracle it is is our choice.  As I see it, you can either be Macbeth, or Mr. Magorium:  Shakespeare’s Macbeth said, “[Life] is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”[5]  Zach Helm’s Mr. Magorium said, “Life’s an occasion.  Rise to it!”[6]  And I’ll add, enjoy it and celebrate it!

          That’s what Tevye did.  Do you remember him?  He’s the main character in Fiddler on the Roof, a musical that took its name from Marc Chagall’s painting.  Like Chagall, Tevye understood that life is a gift from God that should be enjoyed and celebrated no matter what challenges we face.  That philosophy, which is the message of today’s readings, is captured perfectly in Tevye’s famous toast:

To life! To life! L’chaim!

L’chaim! L’chaim! To Life!

A gift we seldom are wise enough

Ever to prize enough.

Drink l’chaim! To life![7]

Readings:  1Kings 17: 17-24; Galatians 1: 11-19; Luke 7:11-17

Listen to"To Life" on YouTube

---

[1] Fr. Kenneth E. Grabner, C.S.C., “A Resurgence of Life,” Living Faith, vol. 29, no. 1 (April-June, 2013) at June 9.

[2] Patricia Datchuk Sánchez, “What Would You Do?” National Catholic Reporter, vol. 49. no. 16 (May 24 – June 6, 2013) at 27. 

[3] Elizabeth A. Johnson, Consider Jesus:  Waves of Renewal in Christology (New York, Crossroad, 1990) at 91.

[4] Edward J. Ciuba, Who Do You Say That I Am?, 2d ed. (New York, Alba House, 1993) at 83. 

[5] William Shakespeare, Macbeth, act V, scene 5, line 26 (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1954)  at

[6] Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, dir. Zach Helm, perf. Dustin Hoffman, Natalie Portman, Jason Bateman, 20^th Century Fox, 2007.

[7] “To Life,” Fiddler on the Roof, music, Jerry Bock, lyrics, Sheldon Harnick, book, Joseph Stein (1964).

The Good (and Funny) Pope

          Today we commemorate the 50th anniversary of the death of Blessed Pope John XXIII - the Good Pope.  For a pope who only reigned for 5 years (1958-1963), Blessed John may well be the pope who's had the greatest individual impact on the Church to date.  By calling and launching the Second Vatican Council, John shepherded the Church into the modern world; he called for aggiornamento - updating; and cast open the windows of a 2,000 year old institution to let fresh air and the Holy Spirit in.  The long-term impact of Blessed John's Council are still being discerned. Many see in Pope Francis the completion of Blessed John's vision for the Church:  a return to simplicity, humility and charity.

          And that's exactly why Blessed John is referred to as the Good Pope.  He was a simple, farm-bred man from a poor family who understood that the Church's mission is to bring Jesus to the world.  You can learn more about Pope John XXIII in an excellent book by Greg Tobin called The Good Pope.  I recently read it, and couldn't put it down.  I plan next to read Journal of a Soul, the diary that Blessed John kept for nearly 70 years - from his days in the seminary until a few months before he died.  My friend tells me that the insights into Blessed John's joys, fears, doubts and faith are inspiring.

          Blessed John is also remembered fondly for his wonderful, self-deprecating sense of humor.  His great humility was also expressed in his ability to laugh and to laugh at himself.  So in honor of the Good Pope of happy memory, I would like to share some of my favorite of his quips with you:

          "Italians come to ruin most generally in three ways:  women, gambling and farming.  My family chose the slowest one."

          Shortly after his election, a reporter asked Pope John how many people work in the Vatican.  Pope John replied, "About half of them."

          While passing through a crowd Pope John overheard a woman exclaim, "He's so fat!"  The Pope stopped and said, "Madame, the conclave is not a beauty contest."

          The mother superior of Holy Spirit Hospital in Rome welcomed Blessed John to the hospital one day with the words, "Most Holy Father, I am the superior of the Holy Spirit."  He responded, "Well, I must say you're lucky, I'm only the Vicar of Christ!"  

          Once, on receiving an extremely slim visitor, John (then Monsignor Roncalli), staring at him said wistfully, "We will both have to say a prayer to God, beseeching him to remove half of the excess fat I have and give it to you."

          When he served as papal nuncio in Paris, then Cardinal Roncalli was extolling the beauties of the French Academy, reflecting sadly though that "the seats are large enough only for a demi-nuncio."

          The same nuncio couldn't resist a little word play with the rather under-clad lady with whom he was seated at a function.  At dessert, he offered her an apple which he insisted she take saying, "please take it Madame.  It was only after Eve ate the apple that she became aware of how little she had on !"

And my personal favorite:

          In the 1940s, when John was still a cardinal and the papal nuncio in Paris, he was at an elegant dinner party, seated across from a woman wearing a very low-cut dress that exposed a good deal of cleavage.  Someone turned to him and said, "Your Eminence, aren't your embarrassed that everyone is looking at that woman?"  And he said, "Oh no, everyone is looking at me to see if I'm looking at that woman."

Powerful

          Several years ago, I attended a retreat at our parish given by the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal.  The highlight of the retreat for me was Eucharistic Adoration.  My family never participated in Eucharistic adoration when I was growing up, so I wasn't very comfortable with what to do and when, and certainly had no clue about how to chant O Salutaris Hostia or Tantum Ergo (linked here, respectively, for those who want to learn).  What I remember most from that evening is the invitation extended to us by the friar who preached that night.  He had chosen as his Gospel passage the powerful story found at Mark 5: 25-34 about the healing of the hemorrhaging woman. He preached about the woman's great faith and great courage, how she knew that if she only could touch the hem of Jesus' garment, she would be healed.  What struck me most about that passage was how Jesus knew that his healing power had gone out of him when she touched his clothes, and how she felt his great power heal her.  The friar then explained that at the Benediction, when the celebrant blesses the congregation with the Blessed Sacrament, the priest or deacon covers his arms with a humeral veil so that all attention is drawn to Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.  The humeral veil is Jesus' garment.

          Then came the invitation.  The friar invited each of us to come forward before the Benediction to touch the humeral veil, just like the hemorrhaging woman had done.  When my turn came, I knelt on the sanctuary step and touched the humeral veil.  I immediately felt a jolt, like an electrical shock.  I felt Jesus' healing power course through me.  I then had what I consider to be a mystical experience - an intense experience of the presence of God.  I was alone with Jesus.  I had no sense of anyone else around me.  It was as if the dozens of parishioners present had vanished.  The Church was perfectly quiet and peaceful.  No music, no coughing, no crying children, no priest.  Just Jesus and me.  The experience seemed to last for several minutes.  When I came back to the realization of where I was, I was embarrassed for having taken up so much time.  I quickly returned to my pew red-faced and asked a friend how long I was up there.  She said, "Only a few seconds, no longer than anyone else."  If I had any doubts before then that Jesus is really present in the Blessed Sacrament, they vanished that night with the rest of the congregation.

          Tomorrow we celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, more commonly known as Corpus Christi.  Much ink has been spilled by minds greater than mine explaining this great mystery of our faith - the real presence of Christ, body, soul and divinity, in the Blessed Sacrament.  I've spent a lot of time studying these writings and they've helped me understand Church teachings.  But none of them have conveyed to me what real presence really means better than my experience that night when I touched Jesus' garment.

          Pope Francis has asked Catholics around the world to participate in Eucharistic Adoration together at 6 pm Rome time tomorrow.  This act of unity recalls that we all make up the body of Christ (Christians and non-Christians alike), and calls us to spend some time adoring the one who gave his life for us.  If you have the opportunity, I encourage you to participate.  I can tell you, it's powerful.