Father Lasch

Feast of All Saints

Happy Feast Day!

Readings: Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14 Psalm 24 1 John 3:1-3 Matthew 5:1-12

Beloved, see what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet that is what we are. [1 John 3:1]

As the presider at Eucharist on this feast, I usually introduce the liturgy with the greeting, “Happy Feast Day!” More often than not, the congregants remain silent. Then I greet myself on their behalf with these words, “And also to you, Father Lasch.” Everyone chuckles of course but sooner or later it sinks in that saints are not only those who have ‘made it’ but also those who are on the way.

Although the source of the citation escapes me at the moment, I recall one translation of the Book of Revelation in which John addresses the seven Churches of Asia Minor with the words, “To the ‘saints’ of the Church of Smyrna, etc. It’s an interesting reference that I have not found in contemporary translations. Nevertheless, it still strikes me as an appropriate greeting to believers who struggle with their commitment to Christ not only in the face of persecution and travail but also in the face of the daily effort to live and act in grace.

In fact, the feast of All Saints is not really intended to be a recognition of our faithfulness as disciples of Christ but a celebration of the power of God’s grace in the lives of our ancestors, named and unnamed. They are far too numerous to count and though they will never be included in the list (canon) of those officially raised to the dignity of sainthood, we are confident that they are among the ‘elect’ embraced by God in eternity.

I feel certain that you as I can name more than one among your ancestors who mirrored the face of Christ to you during their earthly life. They are the ones who challenged you often but rarely hassled you. They are the ones who helped you to become better than you would have been had they never entered your life. They were conduits of God’s grace, sacraments of God’s presence, a blessing to you and to many. No, they were not perfect and yes, they may have said, “I’m sorry more than once.” Yet, over time, they made a difference in your life where it counted.

As for us? Yes, we are still on the way and yes, saints are not just those who have made it but also those who with God’s grace do their best to make a difference in the lives of others not by force and not through a plethora of words but by their humble presence.

Happy Feast Day!
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Beginning on Monday, November 2nd, I will be on an extended sabbatical leave/retreat during the month of November. I will not be sending or receiving email messages nor posting any reflections during this period. I ask you to keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I will keep you in mine. I look forward to activating my website on my return in December.

Father Lasch

Sabbatical Leave

Father Lasch

He was the voice of 'quiet love.'

On this feast of All Saints in the year of priests, I would like to pay tribute to Father Ed Hinds, pastor of St. Patrick Parish in Chatham, NJ with these words that I shared at the celebration of his funeral on October 31, 2009 at St. Patrick Church.

Death has a thousand faces and though we know it can happen at any time and may be prepared for it, we are never ready and it is never opportune. It is intrusive and unjust. And no matter the circumstances, it creates a void impossible to fill, a hole in our hearts, an empty place at our table.

But the tragic circumstances that resulted in Father Ed’s death also leave us with conflicted feelings of outrage and mercy—outrage at the unmerciful slaying of this gentle man of God and mercy for the man who became a victim of his deranged thinking. As Ed’s spiritual companion, I can state without equivocation, there was nothing in his life that could have provoked such a violent attack. In the words of one parishioner, “The only aspect of Christ’s life that Fr. Ed did not live out until this tragedy was Christ’s suffering and death.” As I reflected on her comment and Ed’s dying moments, it would not surprise me if I learned that he whispered the words of Christ as he hung on the cross: “Father, forgive him for he knows not what he is doing.” Another parishioner said it this way: “Putting on that white sacramental robe at Baptism 61 years ago was the most important reality for him because he certainly died with Christ on Thursday evening but how many people will know that he died with the sacred compassionate heart of Christ throughout his entire life.”

With Isaiah we believe that life does not end with death. We believe it is a passage to a new kind of life, to eternal life in which we are absorbed fully into the life of God – whole and complete. That is what salvation is about. It is for Father Ed, a solemn promise fulfilled because he lived in a manner worthy of his call – “with all humility, with gentleness, with patience, bearing with others through love, striving to preserve the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.” [Ephesians 4:1-4]

And so we will find a way not just to survive but to live fully in the light of the path paved by this humble shepherd who made such a difference in our lives with his ability to bring the Scriptures to life through his well-prepared and carefully delivered homilies and by his reverent celebration of the Eucharist that was the center of his live and ours.

Ed enjoyed a partnership with God in Christ that he took very seriously and though it takes some of us a long time to discover how our own partnership with God will unfold, Ed was quick to pick up the signs early in life. Father Gene Romano tells of Ed’s early desire to embrace the priesthood even as a young boy as he celebrated Mass at his home-made altar. But Father Ed was not a ‘hot house’ priest. Over time as he grew into his vocation, he became a wise mentor with an acute understanding of human nature and of the spiritual needs of those whom he served so well from the youngest to the eldest. He made time for everyone when convenient and inconvenient.

Father Ed tried to do his very best but he like us was not perfect. As many of you know, he found administration difficult at times and of late, he would wake early in the morning with those stomach butterflies we all experience from time to time when faced with a particularly difficult challenge or decision. He would be the first to confess his mistakes but that core spirituality implanted in his unique soul nourished so carefully during his early years with family gave him a resilience that enabled him to bounce back, never giving into defeat.

Ed mixed with the high and low. He made no distinction because in his view all people are God’s children.. He was very intelligent but modest and measured in his speech, never condescending. He shunned honors and accolades – no clerical bashes for Fr.Ed. He preferred instead to recognize the accomplishments of others. We would be hard pressed to find his photo in local newspapers or even in The Beacon. He needed no recognition for what he considered only his duty and responsibility. His dedication to this parish family was steady but his parish circle extended far beyond St. Patrick’s to Mt. Carmel in Boonton and St. Michael’s in Netcong. A loyal friend of the Dominican Sisters of Caldwell, he was a faithful visitor and celebrant at St. Catherine’s infirmary.

Sr. Jo Mascera of the pastoral care department at Morristown Memorial Hospital remarked to me on Wednesday how responsive Ed was to her call to cover for hospital emergencies when the parish ‘on call’ was unavailable.

Ed and I used to have monthly talks over tea and cookies. Whenever he came for spiritual direction, I always told him that he replaced my spiritual reading for the day —hot off the press, as it were! It was during these sessions that I realized how transparent Ed was and how pure his soul. He epitomized quiet love. He was blessed with a contemplative spirit and simple spirituality. I truly believed that he knew the God who lived at the core of his being, the God who was paving a path with him one day at a time and would bring all his hopes and dreams to fulfillment. I have no doubt that Ed’s hopes have been fulfilled and he is living his dream somewhere in this awesome universe.

But there is just one more testimony that I would like to share. It comes from a neighboring pastor:

Ed was a colleague, but more importantly, he was my friend, a genuinely nice guy; one of the last of a dying breed of gentle souls.

He fully respected the status of my ordination. He was a mentor, a role model, a confidant, a colleague, a friend.

If the entirety of our lives can be summed up in one story, here’s my story about Ed:

It was not long after the death of my daughter. I thought I was doing okay. The grieving process was progressing on course. “Thank you, I’m fine,” I heard myself saying, over and over again, to kind, caring people who asked how I was doing.

And then, one morning, I woke up and found that I couldn’t move my feet from the bed and put them on the floor. Neither could I take a full breath.

My first coherent thought was, “I’ve got to get to Mass.”

The only place I could think of that was close by was St. Pat’s. There was an 8 AM daily mass there.

I got up and got dressed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to receive the sacrament in a RC Church but I was okay with that.

All I really needed at the time was to be in a small community of people who believed in the Resurrection. Who not only believed in but cherished the idea of Life Eternal. Who willingly and gladly entered into the paradox of understanding the Mysterium Tremendum et fascinans of God’s sacramental grace.

I pulled on my favorite old jeans and a hooded sweat shirt, put on my hat, coat and mittens and walked the block up to St. Pat’s and took a seat in the back. There were 8 or 10 people already in the church.

When it came time for communion, I sat in my pew, praying quietly to God, my head bowed, my knees bent, my hands and heart open.

Suddenly, I felt something being pressed into my hand. I opened my eyes and saw Fr. Ed standing before me, pressing the broken wafer into my hand, as I heard him say, “The Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven.”

I took the broken wafer into my hand, gobbling it like a hungry beggar who hadn’t eaten in weeks. I hadn’t known how hungry I had been.

Right there in front of God and the people of God, I was fed and nourished.

I had received a foretaste of the heavenly banquet which my daughter now enjoyed. I was one with her and she with me and I experienced a wholeness and a healing that surpassed sublime.

What really broke my heart open was the risk this man took for Incarnate Love. For the Gospel. Right there, in the Roman Catholic Church, in front of God and the assembled faithful, he broke a rule, to feed a hungry, broken woman a broken piece of bread that filled me with wholeness and holiness of Life”.

Ed did not break any rules. He knew the heart of Christ.

As we continue to mourn his passing, we will continue to celebrate his life as we thank God for making him a part of our lives. I reckon this prayer of Thomas Merton was often on the lips of Ed Hinds:

I beg you to keep me in this silence so that I may learn from it the word of your peace and the word of your mercy and the word of your gentleness to the world: and that through me perhaps your word of peace may make itself heard where it has not been possible for anyone to hear it for a long time.

He was the voice of quiet love and we will miss his gentle smile forever.

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time 'B'

Lord, that we might see.

I was searching for a book on Christian spirituality. I needed it for a discussion group which I was to facilitate on the following Wednesday. I knew the book was in my personal library and I was certain the title was printed on the cover in white letters on a blue-green field. I searched every bookshelf without success. The more I searched, the more frustrated I became and less trustful of my memory. I began to “second-guess” myself. Perhaps I had loaned the book to someone. I became annoyed at myself for giving the book to someone without replacing it with the usual i.d. card on the bookshelf so that I would know from whom I might need to retrieve it if necessary. I failed to locate it in time for the meeting. Ugh! Can you sense the mood I was in? It was a great way to begin a faith-sharing session on contemplative prayer — and don’t ask me if I prayed to St. Anthony, patron of lost articles. I didn’t but I did ask someone else to pray!

Would you believe, St. Anthony located the book on the day after the meeting! It was exactly where I put it — next to book in the same category so that I could locate it with ease by association. The color of the cover was white, not blue-green. I know there is an explanation for short-term memory loss, but I can’t remember it. Eating several almonds a day is supposed to prevent memory loss but I can’t remember why.

This ‘homey’ anecdote is not a-typical of many life experiences. Of course, most of them deal with issues of greater concern than the location of a book. For example, I have real blind spots that sometimes make it difficult for me to the appreciate the better side of another’s personality. I may be more apt to judge authors or public speakers by their title or by the letters that follow their name rather than the quality of their character or their product. Biases can easily cloud my vision and blind me to the goodness that God has placed in other people whatever their status or title.

Steven Covey, author of Seven Habits for Effective Leaders, tells the story of his experience on a New York train on an otherwise quiet Sunday morning many years ago. People were sitting quietly reading the newspaper or just dozing. At a particular stop, a young man entered the train with his five children. The children started chasing one another becoming a genuine nuisance. It was all very irritating. So he spoke up and said, “Sir, your children are disturbing a lot of people. I wonder if you might speak to them and control their behavior?” The man replied, “Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I should do something about it. We just came from the hospital where their mother died about an hour ago. I don’t know what to think, and I guess they don’t know how to handle it either.”

Through no fault of his own, Steven Covey was blind to the tragic event that had just occurred in their lives but it surely changed his attitude and his response to the situation. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” he said. “Can you tell me how I can help?”

There are dramatic stories about blind people who recovered their sight through surgery and the generosity of a donor and still more dramatic stories about people born blind but who received sight later in life through the hands of a skillful surgeon. Opening their eyes opened them to a completely new world. And then there is the ‘miracle’ of the Seeing Eye of Morristown that has brought ‘sight’ to millions through ‘man’s best friend’—the humble dog.

But nothing is more dramatic then a spiritual wakening such as that described in the Gospel for this Sunday. Even before Bartinaeus was cured of his blindness, he recognized Jesus as ’ Man of God,’ and Messiah. In fact, the story is not about physical blindness but about the miracle of faith. Jesus told him it was his spiritual vision that enabled him to see. “Your faith has made you whole!” It’s interesting that Mark draws a stark contrast between the faith of Bartimaeus and the blind ambition of the disciples.

There are many blindnesses to which we ‘believers’ can succumb, such as the chauvinism and sexism that still prevails in the marketplace and even in the Church, resulting in the treatment of women as inferior to or less qualified than men. Good people can suffer a
blindness to justice issuesthat distorts reality leading us to seek our own good over the good of another.

But there is yet another message in this story not immediately obvious to the casual reader. This was Jesus’ challenge to the Pharisees and especially to ‘the Twelve’ apostles who were blind to the deeper meaning of his message and miracles.

Bartimaeus, was willing to give Jesus everything, symbolized in casting off the garment of his former self. But the commitment to the stewardship of God’s word and God’s world demands intelligent engagement with this world and in our church through mutual and respectful dialogue.

And here’s one more insight from Julia Alvarez: “Those of us who are in solidarity to make this world a better place long for those tidal waves that poet Seamus Heaney talks about in this passage from The Cure at Troy:

‘History says, Don’t hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.’

My prayer is that we will come to see our world and our church as God sees them. Lord, that we might see as you see.

Daily Scripture

+ 29th Week in Ordinary Time

The signs are all around us.

Readings: Romans 7:18-25a Psalm 119:66, 68, 76, 77, 93, 94 Luke 12:54-59

Jesus said to the crowds, ‘When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say immediately that it is going to rain – and so it does; you know how to interpret the appearance of the earth and the sky; why do you not know how to interpret the present time? [Luke 12:54-56]

As an amateur meteorologist I predict weather by instinct and though I’m not about to defend it as an alternative to weather maps, satellites and scientific forecasts, I will tell you that it has its advantages. I suppose it is akin to musicians who play only by reading the notes and those who read the notes but also play by ear.

That having been said, I think this is what Jesus was getting at in today’s gospel. Read the signs carefully and if your instincts are on the same wave length as God’s, then you have no difficulty in discerning the signs.

As I reflect more and more on our theological tradition, I’m coming to the conclusion that there is indeed something to natural law theory that we ought not dismiss too easily whether it applies to weather patterns or to social theory. We may be able to construct huge levies to withstand a category three hurricane but a category four hurricane will prove who is master of the sea and sky.

We may construct large fences and protect our borders against terrorists with preemptive strikes and our assets against the invasion of taxes, but if we avoid reading the signs of the times – the law of justice will prevail and there is no force that can withstand the voice of hunger and thirst.

No guilt, please. Just creativity in our thinking about the national and global economies and how we can work together for the good of all.