This week it seems apt to say that a life without passion is no life at all. First, we celebrate Saint Valentine’s Day. Esteemed by the Church as one of her martyrs, he has become a symbol of love. This is certainly appropriate since he loved his God so much he laid down his life. Two weeks ago in my homily I expressed regret that the word “love” is used so loosely today. As we celebrate this holiday it is apt that we honor those to whom we are committed.
February 14th is a day very precious to me for it marks my parents’ anniversary. Because my sisters and I lived in the shadow of their passionate love we felt protected and learned the lessons of life and faith. I could tell many stories of their relationship. I will share only one. My father had left Ireland in 1929. He was a young man who had little more than the cost of his passage. When he arrived, he stayed with some maiden aunts. After working washing floors in the Woolworth building (at that time the tallest building in the world), despite the depression he was able to secure a job with the General Baking company which produced Bond Bread. Daily he would drive a team of horses over the Brooklyn Bridge to the lower eastside. His Irish wit engaged all from the Jewish storekeepers to their Chinese, Italian, Polish, and German customers. He was happy with his occupation but thought of a career in law enforcement (he tried for the Police department but was found to be three quarters of an inch too short.) but he would be successful at upholding order at 19 Seaman Avenue years later. His outgoing personality would win him the hand of Anne Marie Reilly and they married in Our Lady of Good Counsel Church. After a brief stint in the Army to secure citizenship, he returned to his sales route and his loving wife. In 1947. the “prince” made his appearance (moi). Though content, my father missed the family he left almost two decades. He had brought two of his sisters over and sent money home to his parents. But there were no phones to call, never mind internet video cams. My parents then decided to begin to save for a trip to the Old Sod. Plans which had been advancing nicely seemed thwarted when dad’s company refused workers a union. A strike ensued. It was a very difficult and long conflict. The workers went to picket each day but no money was to be had. You cannot imagine the disappointment in my father’s heart when he went to tell my mother that the sojourn would have to be cancelled. But when she heard the news the lady of the house smiled, went to her small desk where she paid the bills and drew out three steamship tickets on the Britannia. All along she had been cutting corners, putting aside any small pleasures, to make sure the dream would not be lost. And so we sailed. The work stoppage lasted so long that there was thought to stay in Ireland. My mother loved her in-laws and was beloved by them. The prince would go with his grandfather, sit in the cart and play with the turf that would at times be thrown at him when the grandfather would forget he was there. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to grow up and be a P.P. (parish priest) in the diocese of Clamacnoise. Those happy days continued though back in the United States. My father would never return to his homeland. But the memories most of all of his loving wife always comforted him. They were quite a pair.
I began with the word passion and referenced its celebration this weekend but we must also refer to the upcoming beginning of Lent and its celebration of God’s love in the suffering, death, and rising of His Son, Jesus Christ. With great appreciation we will approach the church and receive the sign of repentance and mortality: ashes. I am sure we are all aware of the formal requirements of fasting and abstinence set by law. They are very minimal and I am sure that we will want to join ourselves to the Lord more intimately in His sacrificial triumph. Some suggestions might be appropriate. Daily Mass is a wonderful practice at any time, but especially in this holy season. As you know we have an earlier Mass to accommodate the needs of those who work. I believe neighboring parishes have noontime Masses as well. If such a practice might be too difficult then at least Saturday mornings might be considered. Visits to the Blessed Sacrament are wonderful as a pious practice. The silence of the church permits us to pray but also to listen. Recently I have found that the walkway over the Hudson and other trails are wonderful places for contemplation. Mary’s rosary is a wonderful way in which to recall the mysteries of salvation. Spiritual reading at this time of the year is very fulfilling. Our Holy Father’s books Jesus of Nazareth and, St. Paul are two examples. Father Richard John Neuhaus’s Death on a Friday Afternoon is a masterpiece.
The traditional practice of fasting can certainly be one which could be entered into by the whole family. As one it can be decided what day of the week might be employed, which restrictions made, and what might be done with any savings involved. For example, should the amount be given locally to a food bank, to the missions to proclaim the Gospel, of course, in our own mind, to the work of rebuilding the lives of our brothers and sisters in Haiti.
The third aspect of the traditional triad of charity is one not only seen in a financial aspect but that of service. There are so many agencies, especially in this economy, who could benefit from our time and talents. But we only need to look around our neighborhood to see whether a senior needs companionship, or requires shopping or could use a ride to a doctor. Keeping the community green and clean is admirable. Within the family itself we can see opportunities to express our care for one another. Helping each other with homework, mowing the lawn, sharing another’s chores are just a few examples.
As in past years we will celebrate the Stations of the Cross on Friday evenings. I hope that we will enjoy the experience of walking with the Lord and think about where we would have been in Jerusalem that fateful week, what side would be on as the soldiers arrested Him, Pilate judged Him, and the crowd crucified Him. Would we have the courage of Mary or Veronica, or would we flee as did the disciples?
Let us return to the Lord the passionate love He expressed for us.
Vivat Jesus,
Fr. Brian
