Father's Day Card

Don't forget: June is the month of the Sacred Heart (it may save your life!)

Y’all are so good to me; so many of you wish me a “Happy Father’s Day,” and I really appreciate that.  I really do admire the dads of the parish, especially the ones I get to see doing the dad work with their little ones, up to and including chasing them the length of the church.

Sometimes I feel like the dad of a teenager.  Well, I think that’s the feeling – it seems to resonate with what I am hearing from those of you who are, actually, parents of teenagers.  I can only estimate, so you’ll have to let me know.

I feel like…every time I actually get to talk to you, I wind up nagging you about something.  Take out the trash.  Tuck in your shirt.  Make your offertory commitment.  Drive safely.  Say your prayers.

Here it is the beginning of summer and everyone (including me) is off to someplace or another.  Lots of folks even move away this time of year; I hate that, even when it’s a really good move.  But even when you’re here, I feel like… we never get to spend time together.  You’re rushing to something; I’ve got something I am trying to get done.  Somebody has a crisis, and you, or I, or both of us, have to rush to go do something about it.

I feel like… we are speaking two different languages.  I don’t think I always understand what you’re saying to me, and I think I don’t do a good job of letting you understand me, and when we talk, it’s often not about anything important.   

One of our parochial vicars once asked me over breakfast: Do they know how much we love them?  I answered: Nope.  Substitute “Mom” for him and “Dad” for me, and see if that conversation fits parents of a teenager.  You can easily figure out who are the “kids” we are talking about: Y’all.

So here I am on any given weekend, using my twelve minutes of your time for the week to nag you about something, ideally something important.  At least that’s what it can sound like.  And I hate that because it makes it hard for me to help you know why this is important; to know who you are.

More often than we expect, the Scripture presented to us in the liturgy can be pretty apocalyptic – literally: end of the world, destruction of everything good, death and disaster, annihilation.   It’s easy to decide, that’s just typical parental exaggeration, right?  Who needs that bother?

Well, Holy Mother Church is trying to tell you the same thing any sainted mother tries to tell her seventeen-year-old who has a license and the car keys: you’re fabulous, but you’re mortal.  It matters.  Pay attention and choose wisely.

It’s not a subject that you rush to bring up with someone you love.  You are mortal. You’re gonna die. No, it’s not something that is likely to happen terribly soon, except for a few of us…but we cannot be certain just who that is.  You need to know that, so you can be ready.

And just like any teenage driver, you can take steps to make yourself safe.  Many things – many very attractive, exciting, enjoyable, and popular things -- will not help you:  Jesus said, "All that you see here--
the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down."  

But thanks be to God, there IS something that you can do about it.  There is someone who can make you safe from death’s darkness, the eternal oblivion that yearns to devour our unwary souls.  Fasten your seatbelt: cling to Christ Jesus. By your perseverance you will secure your lives.

So, have a good time on vacation.  Enjoy your friends.  You are fabulous, but you are mortal.  Drive safely.  Go to Mass, and confession.  Say your prayers.  I love you.

Dad

Making it happen

Three years ago, when we had our parish’s first Corpus Christi procession, it was three months into the hard lockdown and our forced separation from the Mass.  Enthusiasm was high to be with one another, and to be with our Lord.  

The forced separation from the Eucharist that we endured had produced a longing, a yearning for Christ’s own presence and activity with us and for us and in us.  It was never more evident than that day.  One reason that peak remained unique was that a week later, when the local authorities again permitted us to worship, there was still fear and uncertainty of the virus, and there were so many protocols and practices that had not been part of our worship that being together with the Lord and with one another was deeply impaired.  It was strange, but it was Mass, thank God.  

That has been the story over the intervening three years, as we worked our way back into unimpeded communion.  Capacity limits were lifted, mask mandates withdrawn, and people got used to being with people again.  We sang; we reached again for holy water to bless ourselves.  Some people were still absent, but it was more and more like Mass, thank God. 

Over the same time, other activities resumed to their pre-pandemic levels, and the demands on our time multiplied.  Especially our kids had places they needed to be.  People started eating out and getting together in homes again.  In other words, Mass went back to being another thing we had to fit into our schedules.  Thank God?

Three years ago, when we had our parish’s first Corpus Christi procession, for weeks beforehand the streets had been filled with people marching, even in our own neighborhoods.  Anger, protest, and accusations were the norm.   When our procession came through the streets of Four Corners, there was visible hesitation and uncertainty as our neighbors looked to see what was this, what now?  Then, relief filled their faces to see that we weren’t angry peaceful protesters, but people of faith proceeding with the Prince of Peace.  

We sell Our Eucharistic Lord short every time we simply consider what we are doing in regard to Him.  Are we going to go to Him Sunday morning, or in the afternoon?  Are we going to visit Him on our way home today, or are we going to try maybe next week?  Are we going to linger with Him for a few moments to try to work out a few of the things that are concerning us, or will we try to communicate from our home or car?  All of these are worthy considerations, but they are not all that we should consider.

When we attend Sunday Mass, He commands us.  When we visit Him in the tabernacle, He draws us to Himself.  When we linger before Him, He holds us and loves us and elicits from us our concerns and joys and needs.  And when we are away from Him, He makes us know where He is and where He desires us to be.   He initiates.

The point is what God is doing.  Last week, the first reading for Trinity Sunday revealed what Our Eucharistic Lord is doing with us:   then was I beside him as his craftsman, and I was his delight day by day, playing before him all the while, playing on the surface of his earth; and I found delight in the human race.  (Proverbs 8:31).  By the power of the Spirit,the Eucharistic Son dwells with us and He delights in us just as the Father delights in Him.  He acts.

The point is that the Eucharist IS what God is doing:  Yet just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but shall do what pleases me, achieving the end for which I sent it.  (Isaiah 55:10–11)  Jesus is not the passive recipient of actions of our initiation, but rather He is active in Himself and through our actions.  He accomplishes.

Three years ago, when we had our parish’s first Corpus Christi procession, things were different than they are now.  Today we are restored to frequent and free Communion, but reduced in number.   Our Lord Jesus Christ calls us, commands us, elicits in us the desire to carry Him to our neighbors and neighborhood, whose dispositions now have changed in the intervening time at least as much as have our own.  Still, we respond to the Lord Who dwells among us; we embody His own obedience.  We take up and bear His Body before our neighbors who are hungry for love, authentic love.  We may be the ones who do the sweating, but He will be the one Who achieves the end for which He has been sent.  

Monsignor Smith

Communion: Between Two and Four

On Trinity Sunday we celebrate that even before anything was created, God, though one and only, all there is, is not solitary, much less lonely.  Three distinct, co-equal divine persons of the One God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, enjoy Communion, perfect and mutual love and self-giving without end or beginning.  That perfect love is not exclusive, but rather extensive: whereby God creates the universe, this world, and you and me, not because He needs us to exist but because He loves us to exist.  Our response: Thank God!

In that spirit of gratitude, let me present to you our rectory.  The Holy House of Soubirous is now a crowded house, in the best sense of the word.  Father Novajosky absorbed most of May with me, one on one, and did some real heavy lifting.  So of course he will run away for a few days this weekend, but will be here (mostly) through June and July.  

Father Santandreu rolled in from Buffalo Monday evening, and he too will be here June and July, sharing with Father Novajosky the goal of completing the License in Canon Law.  This summer they will have in addition to their courses, a thesis to write (each), and comprehensive examinations to pass.  So if you see any clenched teeth, grim looks, or evidence of late nights, you will have a rare glimpse of evidence of what I have shared with you all along: these guys work hard on their school.  Let’s hope that we all get to see evidence of deserved success and accomplishment come late July.

Meanwhile into this crucible of Canon Law study comes Father Gabriel Okafor.  He arrived in the wee hours of last Saturday and powered through jet lag and disorientation to jump-start HIS program of Canon Law studies.   The neat thing that you may not realize about his situation is that he is still a pastor of a parish, in Morro Bay, California, back in the Diocese of Monterrey.  The summer coursework is billed as “intensive,” for him just like the other two, with two complete courses folded tightly into four weeks, then two more courses the next month.  Then in August he will return to his parish, try to “catch up” on two months’ worth of pastoring, then continue through the year while simultaneously taking more courses in Canon Law “remotely.”  We all know about remote learning now, don’t we?

So while you will want to get to know Father Gabriel, and you will want to spend time with Fathers Santandreu and Novajosky of whom you have grown so fond, do not be surprised if they have to pull back from some social possibilities.  They are equally fond of you; they just have a lot to do.

Of course, I am fond of them too.  So our little manifestation of the indwelling of the Holy Trinity is the communion of priestly fraternity in the rectory.  Dinner together is a hoot.  Listening to Frs. N & S hash out the lectures, professors, and requirements is an education in itself.  Fr. Gabriel is unintimidated by his neophyte status, and shares stories from his life and parish in California, his ten years in the Philipines, and his life and family in Nigeria.  I cook, and listen.  

Of course, this convivium provides my only chance to slip away from the parish (just when it is the most fun to be here) so I will be gone for almost two weeks in June.  But like the love of the Triune God, what goes out also comes back, and I look forward to rejoicing in their company and their learning when I return.  August will be solitary, and though that has its upside, too, I am happy to share with you that after a month’s absence, Fr. Novajosky will return for further studies in the coming year.  We make a good team, he and I, but I have not yet despaired of finding a third for our humble and holy dwelling, because everybody knows that the ideal of Communion is a Trinity.

Monsignor Smith

 

 

Good day

With the Blues (+1 Callis) at the reception.  

Well, thank you so much.

You were all so kind last Sunday and into the week for my twenty-fifth anniversary.  You are much of the fabric of my life and my priesthood, and it was good to have a chance to be together under our beautiful trees, on such a perfect day.  I was delighted but not surprised at how much everybody there seemed to enjoy being together, even if they had not previously known one another or spent time together.  That was not hardly a surprise; in fact, it was just what I would have expected and hoped.

It was very low-key, people coming and going as they could on a busy but beautiful Sunday afternoon.  The array of eats and treats was abundant and really rather elegant; the organizers made sure I got there early and took a plate to enjoy some myself.  It’s hardly a Saint Bernadette function if there aren’t kids playing under (and in) the trees; that condition too was well met.  

Fr. Ben Petty and Fr. Brian Sanderfoot, who like Fr. Novajosky were taking me out to dinner that evening, came mid-afternoon and enjoyed the reception too.  Fr. Knestout, my classmate and friend, arrived right before dinner, and joined by Fr. Nate Anderson, the six of us went for a delightful celebratory evening.  As befits such senior clergy as we now find ourselves to be, we were not out late.  

Monday was of course a work day, but people continued to drop by, and drop off things.  Tuesday, the twenty-third, was the anniversary itself, and after the 6:30 Mass (with some surprise guests from the Basilica sacristy sisters!) I was off to the Saint John Paul II Shrine.  The Archdiocesan Priests’ One-Day Convocation (two speakers arranged for our edification by Cardinal Gregory) was followed by the Jubilarian Mass and Dinner, celebrating all of us marking 50^th, 40^th, and 25^th anniversaries; there were no 60s this year.  Cardinal Gregory himself, as you may have heard, was one of the 50s.  

My classmate Fr. John Dillon (St. Francis of Assisi in Derwood) was the homilist at the Mass, as it is the custom for one of the 25s to do.  A representative from each of the Jubilarian classes offered a talk at the end of the dinner, and I was graciously asked to be the 25er who spoke.  

I began by observing: This particular twenty-five years has meant five presidents, four archbishops, three popes, two translations of the Mass, and one enduring mystery.  It is when you count such things that you begin to realize how much has happened, and how much time a quarter-century actually is.  It all spins by fairly quickly, as demonstrated by the sudden arrival of summertime, heralded by Memorial Day weekend.   If you’re going to be on the road, be careful out there!

In local news, let me also point out that the population of the rectory will shift a little this weekend, as Fr. Santandreu returns from spending recent weeks back home in Buffalo, for his final two months with us; Fr. Novajosky and I look forward to welcoming also Father Gabriel Okafor, a priest of the Diocese of Monterrey (California) who will be in residence for two months as he begins the summer program in Canon Law at CUA.  

Whether you’re with us for the weekend or the summer; whether you’re new around here, or have been with me for the long haul of priesting; you’re awfully good company, and I am grateful.  Thank you, and may God bless you!

Monsignor Smith

That day

It was not where I thought I had left it.  A bright yellow legal-sized folder labeled “May 23” in black marker, I could see it in my mind's eye but not find it in my desk.  It took an hour, but finally, I rooted under and behind some other folders and there it was, about five feet from where I was convinced I had put it.

Originally used to contain all the materials for planning the big weekend, the folder has for the quarter-century since then held all the most important documents from my ordination, including my canonical faculties, and the Official Certificate of Ordination -- just like we give for Baptism, Confirmation, and First Communion.  It also had some keepsakes, like the Catholic Standard issues reporting the event, and a list of all the gifts I received and who gave them.

But what I was looking for was two pages of yellow legal paper with my very neatest handwriting on them: the final copy of the homily I preached before ordination.

That year, Cardinal Hickey took to himself the honor and the labor of leading the four of us candidates for priesthood on our canonically-required, five-day preparatory retreat, which was held at the Washington Retreat House on Harewood Road NE so he could be nearby in case he was needed to run the Archdiocese for a moment.  No, that was not the usual practice for him, and I do not recall if he did it for many or even any other classes.  Fond as I was of Cardinal Hickey, I could not have been more pleased.

He gave all the conferences and met with each of us individually, but while he was celebrant of all the Masses, he assigned each one of us deacons to preach one of them.  The final day fell to me, Ascension Thursday, two days before our Saturday ordination.

Of course, we were all at least partly terrified at the thought of preaching not only to our classmates – always one of the stickiest tasks for a cleric – but also to our Archbishop.  Funny, but I think it is the only time I have ever preached before a Cardinal or Archbishop, my own or anybody else’s.   (Heaven knows I have done plenty of other things to and for them -- but that is another story entirely.)

What motivated my search for the yellow folder was that, even though I had not read it in decades, I thought it would be good to share this homily with you this weekend.  Here it is, Ascension Thursday again, though the Gospel passage does not line up since 1998 was Year C, and now we are in Year A.  Not only that, but the lectionary translation changed in 1999, which makes it even harder to recognize the quotations, but I present it transcribed as it stands, completely unedited and unamended.   If you recall that I was preaching principally to my classmates, you should have little difficulty.

Upon review, it is a completely appropriate reflection for me, too, on this anniversary.   So much is just as I found it, right where I left it, right where I received it.

Monsignor Smith

 

Ascension Thursday Homily, 21 May 1998

It is all about power, isn’t it?  

Washington is a city of power.  If you are into power politics, you can make your power plays at power lunches with other power brokers, all in the name of amassing power and using power to get more power.  

The Ascension is about power.  Each of the three readings today mentions the great power that is to be had.  As Jesus took his leave, He instructed the Apostles to, “Remain here in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.”   

We, too, are waiting for power.  Two days from now we will be ordained into awesome power: power that is sacramental and ontological; power that is pastoral; and power that is social or situational.  It all comes with being a priest.

Tantalizing, isn’t it?  Divine power!  Enough to make any power-player lick his chops. But that cannot be our response.

The Ascension of Christ was not a power vacuum that the Apostles rushed to fill.  The power Jesus promised to them -- and to us – cannot be accumulated or amassed; it cannot be strategized or stockpiled.  It is not ours.

It is the power of the Holy Spirit.

The Spirit will make us, like the Apostles, witnesses of Christ, yes, even to the ends of the earth!

In this power of the Spirit we will decrease, that the presence of Christ may increase – in the sacraments, in the preaching of the Word, and in compassion for His least ones.

It is a gift received to be given.

Christ rose to heaven not so that the Apostles could be in charge, not so that we could be in charge, but so that His reign could be spread.

So we cannot respond like a Washington power broker, with business cards and press releases and updated curricula vitae– but like the Apostles.  In all humility before the awesome power of God, let us

Fall down to do him reverence

be filled with joy

And be found in the Temple constantly

speaking the praises of God!

Laughable

Seriously??
Most certainly NOT.

Let me congratulate all of our First Communicants from last weekend, and say how much I look forward to giving you your third, fourteenth, and eighty-seventh Holy Communion in coming days and months.  Also, I was with many of our catechists from religious ed the other evening, and they were sharing how much delight they take in their students, and how eager they are to give them the truth and beauty of our faith, as well as the freedom it offers.  The second-grade catechists in particular were relieved and pleased after all their efforts that culminated last weekend.  While thanking them all for their good work, let me point out that there is a beautiful fellowship as well as a growth in one’s own faith to be found in instructing our younger parishioners in the liberating content of the Faith.  See Jasmine Kuzner to learn how you can enjoy this experience.

There is an awful lot going on this month, in the parish and around the world.  Some of it keeps me busy or preoccupied, and some of it leads me to reflect quite deeply.  There is so much “up in the air” that I was having trouble deciding where to “come down” for this week’s note.   Then I recalled that while rummaging about in my files this week, I came across one of my letters of which I had no recollection at first.  But upon reading it, I found that it resonated exactly with where I am right now. 

With a big Happy Mother’s Day to all parish moms, especially the ones who insist “the best gift you can give me is for everybody to come with me to Mass,” let me share with you these thoughts from ten years ago:

Brothers and sisters: If only you would put up with a little foolishness from me!

That’s Saint Paul talking, in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, chapter 11.  But when I read it this afternoon, it reminded me of … me.  You know that is unusual; I don’t often identify with Saint Paul, for many reasons.  But admitting a certain foolishness strikes me as something I can share with him.

First of all, I have to admit that the awesome dignity of the Sacred Priesthood, the marvelous solemnity of the Holy Liturgy of the Church, and the tremendous respect offered to me freely and willingly by so many people often hide from us how foolish we all look, and especially me, because of the very foundational elements of our faith.  We believe in, talk to, sing to, and pray to an invisible God.  We profess that his only Son took flesh in the womb of a virgin in a small village two millennia ago, was born, worked many miracles which nobody has any photographs of, then was killed like a criminal.  But then – and get this – we assert that he rose from the dead, went about eating, drinking, and talking, then ascended into heaven!  

Some folks, like the throng that heard Paul preach in the Areopagus of Athens, hear that last bit about “resurrection from the dead” and suddenly remember they have to go sort their sock drawers.  It sounds so…foolish to them.

Unlike ancient Greece, now everybody has heard already all about it; indeed, they have heard the stories a million times.  But to think that there is any truth, any reality to them – well, that just isn’t educated, it isn’t sophisticated, it isn’t modern.   Therefore, in a word, it must be foolish.

Now you all know I am perfectly willing to be taken for a fool according to those criteria.  I cling to the reality of all that has been handed down, undiluted, undiminished, and undiffused.  It is the only thing that can bring life!

As Saint Paul also point out, we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles.  (1 Cor 1:23)  Folly; that’s how they saw it, and that is how many see it now.

Despite how seriously I take this, no, actually, because of how seriously I take this Faith, I am willing and even eager to make certain that I not be taken that seriously.  That is, my own person, myself.  I can be ridiculous on occasion because, well, I am NOT the Son of God, and I know that.  Don’t confuse me with the Good News I bring.  I am dispensable and I know it.  Christ is indispensable!

This gives me great liberty.  I can ally myself with Christ in the face of a public who finds that quaint, gullible, or even foolish.  Simply wearing my priest-clothes in public can elicit pity or disdain.  Proposing Christ’s own prescription for life to modern souls can be met with bemusement, whether that be a happy young couple preparing for marriage, or a successful professional, or, that most skeptical of all audiences, a teenager.  I am willing to accept that, because without Christ, they are in mortal danger.

So you see, it’s not about me.  I can – and will – be a goof.  You know that by now, and if you’re still reading this, you’re okay with that.  And so am I, because I am not the savior of the world, or of you.  But I know who is, I am eager to help you know Him and love Him better!

So, if I strike you as being ridiculous, let me be the last one to try to dissuade you of that opinion.  Rather, I acknowledge and embrace it, but beg you, with Saint Paul again: Please put up with me.  For I am jealous of you with the jealousy of God. (2 Cor 11:1b-2)

Monsignor Smith

Comin' up roses

What, by any other name, would smell as sweet?  A rose, of course; everybody knows that, thanks to pop Shakespeare.   Would that we could all quote more.

But things are smelling sweet around the rectory these days, thanks to some good work by another blossom, or a plumbing company by that fragrant name.  Thank you for the several inquiries of general concern last week; the concern was warranted, but our deliverance was achieved late last Thursday and we were all able to sleep in our own beds that night, and be rested and ready for the weekend’s demands.  It is a learning experience to find out how much of daily life depends of the clear function of that one pipe.  Now all that is behind us.

It is good to have all such systems “go” as we turn the calendar page and suddenly (it’s always sudden, no matter how you plan) it’s May.  There are a thousand things to do this month, both parochial and personal, and because the weather gives us a jolt of energy we entertain the optimism that we will actually be able to do most of them.  I am trying to pace myself.

The first weekend comes on strong with First Holy Communion Mass on Saturday and the May Procession and Crowning on Sunday.  Add to that Friday’s Grandparents’ Day in the school, and it’s a Triduum in its own right.  First Holy Communion is my favorite Mass of the year, and after practicing last Sunday with this year’s kids, I can say that they are ready and eager for the great gift that will both feed them and guide them for the rest of their lives, God willing.  Many of them I have known their whole lives up to this point; I hope decades from now still to get a postcard update or two, once in a while, to hear about, you know, The Rest of the Story.

Many of the girls on Saturday will have real flowers in their hair as they prepare to receive the Lord; it is a good reference for the crown of blossoms we will place on Our Lady’s statue on her May altar.   Speaking of which, let me just say Anthony Dao, our maintenance guy extraordinaire, did not let last week’s plumbing problems distract him from the expectations of Our Lady.  Sometime after the First Communicant retreat Sunday afternoon, but before Adoration began Sunday evening, the Lady Altar appeared so as to be in place when the first morning of May, Mary’s month, dawned Monday.  Please, do not forget to bring flowers for her altar throughout the month!  Bringing them is a great excuse to “make a visit” during the week, and get in some prayers with the younger members of the family.

Speaking of flowers, the HSA plant sale last weekend was a huge hit until it was washed out Sunday afternoon.  That meant there were some leftovers for me to scavenge Monday to add to my first haul from Saturday when the crew gave me my pick of the litter.  So this week I have been potting and placing flowers on the rectory porches, front and back, that make the place a little more livable, even delightful, for the coming six months.  Yes, many of last year’s flowers made it into November.  Looking at those little seedlings every few hours to check for growth is another optimism-booster.

Waiting for the floral payoff can be a longer game, too.  I was pleased to see the knockout roses in front of the school coming into bloom this week.  A year or two ago we planted them where those huge holly trees had been, in hopes of having something a little less towering, a bit more elegant to flank the old entrance.  You know they are yellow roses for a reason?  When Our Lady visited the grotto of Lourdes and spoke to young Bernadette Soubirous, one of the things our young patroness noticed about her was that she had a golden rose on the toe of each shoe. 

So in this month of Our Lady, which I (mostly) affectionately call “Mayhem,” when you see the roses blooming, let the sight and the fragrance inspire you to practice the theme song.  You know how it goes:  Immaculate Mary, your praises we sing…  It is called the Lourdes Hymn, and so it is proper to us, our patroness, and our parish.   How sweet it is!

Monsignor Smith