It's a fair one

"We desire to see our children alive. I think it's a fair one." Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky was met with a standing ovation from the European Parliament after a powerful speech that caused the EU translator on the English language feed to choke up with emotion. (from CNN, 1 March 2022)

President Zelensky has gained my admiration and support for leading his nation in its self-defense against the aggression of its neighbor, Russia.  His selflessness and his apparent fearlessness have galvanized Ukrainians and others around the world.  His actions have been accompanied by and consistent with his expert and effective rhetoric.  I make that observation without irony or detraction – ‘rhetoric’ can and should be a good thing. 

One recurring thread in his addresses has caught my attention as evoking more than one meaning.  He frequently invokes the children of Ukrainians as their inspiration and their reason for fighting, to great effect, as in the instance quoted above.  

Then, in an address to his nation on April 22, he pointed to that day, [Orthodox] Good Friday, as one of the most sorrowful days of the year for Christians. The day when death seems to have won.  Though not a Christian himself, he went on to say of Ukrainians as a nation . . . We hope for a resurrection. We believe in the victory of life over death. And we pray that death loses. 

(…) Russia brought death to Ukraine.  After eight years of brutal war in Donbas, Russia wanted to destroy our state completely.  Literally deprive Ukrainians of the right to life.  But no matter how fierce the battles are, there is no chance for death to defeat life.  Everyone knows that.  Every Christian knows that.  This is a basic element of our culture.

Perhaps this does not exist in modern Russian culture anymore.   Because in order to do everything they did to Ukrainians in our cities . . . you have to kill a human inside you.  Because a human of any faith simply cannot do that. (From WSJ.com)

That is a powerful and eloquent description of what is at stake in Ukraine, and an equally powerful and eloquent summary of how social acceptance and encouragement of abortion leads to savagery and aggression.  

Though I hardly count it an authority, Wikipedia had a tidy summary of what I expected:  In 1920, the Russian Soviet Republic under Lenin became the first country in the world in the modern era to allow abortion in all circumstances, but over the course of the 20th century, the legality of abortion changed more than once, with a ban on unconditional abortions being enacted again from 1936 to 1955. In terms of the total number, in 2009 [there were recorded] 1.2 million abortions in Russia.

For seventy years, the Soviet Union, into which Ukraine was subsumed, destroyed many of its own young people.  This was of a piece with its disregard for human life at every stage.   Thirty years ago, Ukraine escaped that tyranny, but in its striving for western-style freedom and prosperity, it has embraced the secularist agenda that also includes abortion on demand.  

What is an abortion, but to kill a human inside you?  The path from that so-called “private” act to the savagery the Russians have shown in Ukraine is easily traced and accurately described by President Zelensky.  He recognizes, and asserts, that a human of any faith simply cannot do that.  He now calls on his fellow countrymen, and the world, to heroic action and sacrifice, because, "We desire to see our children alive.”

Will his nation turn away from the path to savagery?   Will ours?

Monsignor Smith

Questions worth answering

It’s the end of the school year, time for graduation and promotion and moving on to the next thing.  It is in that context that this week we also wrapped up our RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) program for the year.  

Rather than be surprised we finished, most folks would be startled to hear that we were still meeting.   Didn’t that end at Easter, when they all entered the Communion and received the Sacraments?    Our neophytes (new or “rookie” Catholics) were surprised too.  But no, there is more to be learned about the Faith that can only be approached and apprehended with the help of sacramental grace, and we spent a month on that. 

By this time of year, a comfort and community has been achieved in our little group, and people are ready to talk easily about serious things with one another.  So, in our final meeting, we had a little celebration and I put some questions in a basket for the neophytes to draw out, at random, and answer.   An example is, When did you first think of yourself as someone who would/could/should be a Catholic?  If you were raised Catholic, that is not a milestone you have ever marked, but for all of them is was fun to consider.  In fact, for most of the questions, after the one who had drawn the question gave his answer, several others chimed in with theirs. 

Other questions might be easier for cradle Catholics to engage.  Is there a famous Catholic who has made a difference for you?  Everybody was willing to offer a few names from the proverbial “saints of old” like Francis to celebrities of the modern era like Mother Teresa.  “Famous Catholic” includes a much broader sample than saints, though, and includes people who are famous for other things but eagerly identify themselves as Catholic, like President Biden; and folks who have been famous for a long time for other things but only recently have folks discovered their Catholicism (Mark Wahlberg, as revealed in “Father Stu”).  We are always excited when somebody famous for doing something cool or excellent, like that astronaut, or the firefighter who saved the baby, turns out to be a Catholic.  What is your idea of a famous Catholic?  What about them, or their fame, or their examples, has been helpful to you?  Anybody can answer that question.  

But if those people can make a difference in your life, and in the lives of people who decide to become Catholic, then, well, so can other people.  So can you.  Each of the neophytes could name several people who had helped them personally on their way to the Church, and these people were not famous.  Before our conversation was finished, all our rookie Catholics were aware that they, too, could help somebody else in that same way.

Even though it’s in May, and it means our neophytes are indeed moving on to the next thing, the end of RCIA is not really a graduation.   Entering the Communion of the Church is more like a wedding, which is the beginning of a relationship that will define and direct the rest of your life, something you can’t picture living without.  Because of that, you should readily be able to explain it to somebody you care for, and encourage that person to pursue it as well. 

One of the questions was, What would you say to suggest to someone you know to suggest that he or she consider embracing the Catholic faith?  They had a range of answers; you should have one, too.

Monsignor Smith

Of darkness and donuts

“No good deed goes unpunished” was the given topic sentence for the five-paragraph essay I had to write for a standardized test when I was a high school senior applying to colleges.  It was a sentiment familiar enough to me even at that tender age, and it might have been my glowering, sulking conviction this past Friday evening if it were not for yet another overwhelming example of good being victorious over evil, and God’s providence being revealed in human weakness.  

It was a dark and stormy night, as the cliché goes, and I had gone way up-county to visit a parishioner in the hospital.  The same rain that would give us a sodden Saturday for First Holy Communion had already been coming down since Thursday at least, and it was cold enough that even the May flowers were finding no joy in it.  As I rolled toward home at a leisurely pace down Olney-Sandy Spring Road, my left front wheel found the Pothole from Hell hiding under one of the shining puddles.   I shouted with dismay at the tooth-rattling impact, and my friend, Father Mark Knestout, with whom I had just started a phone call, asked “What was that?”

Pulling over a few hundred feet later onto what I thought was a large driveway but turned out to be a small road coming out of the dark woods, as soon as I opened the door I heard the air not hissing, but rather gushing out of my tire.  I signed off the call, and began the arduous process of excavating my spare tire, jack, and lug wrench.  Everything was buried beneath the many reusable grocery bags, tools, and other gear I keep in the boot of my car.  There were no streetlights at all, but I had an LED headlight I could strap on that must have made me look like some bizarre cyclops in a fedora and trench coat.

The last time I had changed a tire was on my family’s Oldsmobile station wagon, I think.  My lack of practice slowed my progress, as did the exquisite cleverness and efficiency of the German-engineered equipment.  At one point I despaired of getting the lugs loosened with the diminutive wrench, and called for help from a friend who promised to bring more tools, but was a half-hour away at the parish.  It was a miserable night to be on the side of the road wrestling with uncooperative hardware as indifferent motorists splashed past along the road. 

Persevering, I managed to remove the lugs and the injured tire, and as I attempted to line up the holes of the “donut” spare tire with the holes of the hub, and thread through the lug, I thought to myself, “You know, I could really use another hand just now.”  At that very moment, from behind me on the road came a voice, “Do you need some help?”  As I turned around to reply came the exclamation, “Oh my gosh, it’s Monsignor!”

My next-door neighbors, Dan and Beth Anne O’Donoghue were on their way home from Good Counsel High School with their son Daniel.  They immediately pulled their car behind mine and leapt to assist me, holding flashlights, heaving tires, and most importantly, cheering me enormously.  Shortly after their arrival, reflected in the windows of my car I saw blue lights, and heard Beth Anne say, “Hello, Officer.”  When I heard his response, I thought – I know that voice.  I stood up to find it was Mike McNally, whose daughter Nora would receive her First Holy Communion here the next morning.  Yes, I know he is a professional helper of people in circumstances like mine, but how welcome it was that he was somebody I know.  

And it certainly was not “his job” to follow me down the worst stretch of that dark and narrow road once I got rolling, to make sure everything held together; but he did.  Mike went back to his beat just before I crossed paths with my buddy who had driven up from the parish with tools, who then wheeled around and followed me the rest of the way home.  When I told him how things had unfolded, he laughed and laughed, as did I.

Now, it might not be right to conclude that the only helpful people in Olney are from Silver Spring; and perhaps it is a reach to assert that Saint Bernadette parishioners are the most generous on the roads of Montgomery County; but neither was there any evidence to the contrary this weekend.  What I can assert is that an event that could have left me muttering and cursing about good deeds getting punished instead left me laughing and rejoicing.  Sure, I was soggy and my clothes were soiled; yes, I would have to spring for a new tire (but not a new wheel!) and alignment.  But how could I fail to be grateful and glad?  How good it is when our God draws good out evil, and how delightful when our own friends reveal themselves to be His cooperators in so doing. 

Monsignor Smith

We've got you covered

If you had been in the rectory last week, you would have seen me and Ron Farias crowded into Norma’s office, staring out the back window with fascination and delight.  We were watching the truck-and-crane combination remove the leftover shingles from the roof, wirelessly manipulated by a remote panel affixed to a workman’s belt; I think the current descriptive expression for what we were doing is “nerding out.”

Our delight was not inspired solely by the technology on display.  We were both excited that the new roof had been installed so quickly, and so well.  The shingles were delivered the day after Easter, though rain prevented much else from being done that day; everything was finished by Tuesday a week later.   That roof presented a vast area to be covered with shingles, but no less important was the other work done.  Relining and resealing the built-in gutters was vital, as was repairing, resealing, and carefully integrating the vents that had been new about six years ago.  Both of these areas were identified as culprits in the persistent leaks we had been fighting for the past few years.   Those leaks, and that fight, postponed for a couple of years the interior renovation for which we raised funds in our capital campaign.  

The good news is that to replace the roof we did not need to use the money you contributed to the campaign.   We were able to scrape together the necessary $150,000 (approximately) from our operating budget for the parish.  Looking now at the work that was done, a buck fifty seems a very good deal for what was achieved.   I look forward, as you do I am sure, to proceeding now to the interior renovation.

The new roof may come in handy to protect our First Holy Communion Mass this weekend.  Forecasts are calling for rain on what should be the most beautiful day of the spring.  I can’t really complain too much, as the past few months have been so dry that the rain is much needed, but it is bad timing.  Look for our beautiful kids in their snappy clothes to have their official milestone photos taken indoors this year, unless there is a miraculous break in the weather.  All the more reason for the kids to don their splendor again on Sunday for the May procession, when the forecast is slightly less menacing.  

All this, and Mother’s Day too.  Don’t neglect your mom, and make sure to honor the Mother of God and Mother of the Church with prayer, procession, and flowers for the May altar.  May she share her abundance of grace with all the mothers of our parish in response to your petitions!  It is a big weekend, and one of the best of the year.  The series of crowded, exciting weekends that marks May actually began last week with a wedding, and continues through the first in June for graduation.  It’s the time of year I call “May-hem.”  

But since Catholic University’s classes exams already ended this past week, Father Santandreu has departed for the frigid shores of Lake Erie, whence he came; and Father Novajosky will be disappearing too, though he will graciously stay until midday Sunday to help with weekend Masses before racing home to Connecticut to spend part of Mother’s Day with the honoree.  They will both return by Memorial Day for intensive coursework in June and July, but in the meantime, you’ll be seeing a lot of me, juggling the mayhem.  At least I will have a good roof over my head!  

Monsignor Smith