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“The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry,” is a line in “To a Mouse” from poet Robert Burns. I have often been asked who writes my LOA (LOVE ONE ANOTHER). I quickly respond, “I do.” Do you honestly think that any self-respecting ghostwriter would put their craftsmanship to these weekly presentations?
I graduated from my Catholic school toward the end of the height of Catholic education in the United States. My grammar school had 900 students, and when it came to school population in comparison to other schools, it was not exceptionally large. My school was filled with religious sisters, whose convent was right next door. It housed 36 religious sisters.
Today is “Mardi Gras,” the day before Ash Wednesday. The simple translation is “Fat Tuesday.” In this day and age of political correctness, perhaps “fat” is not exactly the best expression; “gravitationally challenged” or “calorically extravagant” might be more appropriate. I have had more than my share of “fat” references to my body structure. I prefer the expression “big-boned.” I am not fat, just big-boned. Of course, my body of big bones would equal a hippopotamus. But, the term “fat” on this Tuesday expresses the excessiveness that comes with the day, when one indulges in food and drink as if there were no tomorrow. Tomorrow is the beginning of the penitential season where the expectation is to deny and mortify.
I couldn’t help but think that – in a little over a day – I celebrated significant moments of life: from the beginning of life to a moment of successful transition, from a celebration of vocational faithfulness to the remembrance of the finality, which we all must face.
Yesterday was the feast of St. Mary Magdalene. I have often said to young women who take the name of St. Mary Magdalene for their confirmation, “Do you know she really loved Jesus?”
The past celebration of Father’s Day reminds us of the importance of those male role models in our lives. Fathers come in all shapes, sizes and colors – and, of course, all different depths of spirituality.
Perhaps, we should prepare ourselves for the first robotic priest. He won’t make mistakes. He will give perfect responses to every question. His sermons will either please everyone or anger everyone. He will be capable of assuming all the parish positions. He will be available to everyone 24 hours-a-day. However, the one thing that he will lack is humanity – therefore, no compassion for the mistakes of others.
“I don’t care if it rains or freezes as long as I’ve got my plastic Jesus ridin’ on the dashboard of my car.” These lyrics, from the song “Plastic Jesus” by Eddie Marrs, are meant to denigrate those who depend upon the outward symbols of faith to get them through tough times. People of faith use these signs not as a rabbit’s foot or lucky charm, but rather as a reminder of someone to whom we owe our ultimate allegiance.
Be prepared for getting what you wish for! It was just a few weeks ago when we heard on the weather and news reports that we lacked the normal inches of snowfall for the season. Many people were saying that we just don’t have those old-fashioned winters with subzero temperatures and significant snowfall. Now, after our third winter snowstorm that dumped an additional five inches of snow, with more yet to come, and with subzero temperatures, it has reminded us that winter is far from over.
This past Saturday, I was asked to wear a little throwback to the 1800s. It was the celebration of my predecessor, Bishop John Martin Henni, on the anniversary of his arrival to his new diocese, Milwaukee, in the Wisconsin territory.
Our newly ordained begin their lives as priests, and they are joined in solidarity with their brothers in the priesthood of the Archdiocese of Milwaukee.
Happy Fourth of July! I love the family picnics, the parades and the patriotic songs. In addition, on the morning of July 4 at 8 a.m. at St. Eugene Parish in Fox Point, I will be celebrating Mass with parishioners. We will be praying in thanksgiving for the gift of this country. We will also remember the sacrifices made by past generations to insure that the Spirit of ’76 continues. We sometimes forget it was the struggles of past generations that produced the benefits of today.
The diocese, clergy and people of Madison are excited about the selection of their new shepherd, as well they should be. Bishop Hying is a proven bishop whose pastoral skills and commitment to the Church are well-known. When a diocese transfers leadership, it is like a new beginning. Former Robert C. Morlino of Madison, who died suddenly, worked tirelessly to form a strong clergy and staff dedicated to the Church, unafraid of the witness to the Church. Bishop Hying inherits competent and skilled individuals who are willing to work with him to take the diocese forward, meeting the challenges and encouraging the faithful to grow in holiness. One can receive an insight into the direction of Bishop Hying’s leadership style in the motto that he chose when becoming a bishop, “Caritas Numquam Excidit” (love never fails). There was a touching moment when he revealed a tender moment of his father and him at the bedside of his dying mother when she asked them, “Did I love you enough?” Of course she did, but that’s the question Bishop Hying was posing to us in the congregation – “Do we love Jesus enough?”
I must admit that when it comes to technology, I am definitely behind the curve. Although my family was one of the first to have a television set in the neighborhood, we were one of the last to have a color TV.
Happy New Year! I have always wondered why we say “Happy” New Year? Are we happy because we’ve survived another year? Are we happy because the earth has achieved another birthday (completing a 365-day rotation)? Are we happy because this is a new moment presenting new opportunities?
Ignite, Renew and Energize: These were the three words I used in my Pentecost homily to end the 2014 Synod titled “A New Pentecost.” It’s difficult to assess the total effect of the Synod, but I can tell you it was a tremendous success.
There is a saying that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” A segment on the popular TV show, “The Twilight Zone,” depicted a young woman who was seeking plastic surgery. Interestingly, one might immediately jump to the conclusion that she is horribly disfigured. Throughout the episode, one never sees the faces of the doctors or the nurses. When the bandages are finally removed from the young woman, what is revealed is a stunning beauty, and it is then that the faces of the doctors and nurses surrounding her are uncovered – disclosing hideous individuals whose faces are pig-like and horribly disfigured. What we perceive as “beautiful” may not always be shared by others. This can explain many actions and decisions made by individuals for the pursuit of that elusive pearl of great price. There is another saying that “one man’s treasure is another man’s junk.”
On the morning of May 14, 1975, my 37 classmates and I entered the chapel at St. Mary of the Lake Seminary in Mundelein, Illinois, and emerged two-and-a-half hours later as ordained priests of the Archdiocese of Chicago.
I remember when I was a child, and my parents would ask me to do something. It could be a visit to an elderly relative, accompanying my mother to the store or watching my little cousin. My immediate response was, “I don’t wanna!,” but my parents’ authority would prevail. Surprisingly, days, months or even years later, I would recognize how good it was that I fulfilled the request. As painful as the tasks were, they represented memories spent with a relative now deceased, a deeper appreciation of my mother’s sacrifice or bonding with a cousin that would later grow into an adult friendship.
Today is the anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision (1973), a Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of the Unborn Children throughout all of the dioceses in the United States.
Today's date, February 12, will always be Abraham Lincoln’s birthday in my mind and heart. Growing up on the south-side of Chicago, February 12 meant a celebration of having off of school. Although it was in the winter, for a grammar school kid this provided an opportunity to enjoy the winter season. If snow was on the ground, it signaled snowball fights and sledding, and if the snow was recent, it called for the building of a snowman. If there was no snow, then it signaled the reading of comic books, watching TV or the exploration of the neighborhood with other kids. I was happy Lincoln was such an iconic figure that the nation would celebrate his birthday, and the school’s yearly schedule would establish his birthday as a holiday.
Many of the popular TV programs when I was growing up had theme songs, which identified their TV personas. “The Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Show” had, “Happy Trails (to you, until we meet again),” Gene Autry had, “(I'm) Back in the Saddle Again.” Perry Como would have a segment that started, “Letters, we get letters, we get stacks an' stacks of letters ... Dear Perry ...,” and then Perry would sing a popular song. Dinah Shore would sing, “See the USA in Your Chevrolet,” and then offer a big kiss to the viewing audience at the end of her performance. And, of course, the most famous theme song of my era was, “The Mickey Mouse Club,” which ended the show with, “M-I-C, See you real soon! K-E-Y, Why? Because we like you! M-O-U-S-E.”
The beauty of the sacrament of reconciliation is the ability for us to accuse ourselves of sin and seek forgiveness. It’s not easy to examine our lives and seek forgiveness. No one really likes to go to confession.
If my father were alive today, there is no doubt in my mind that he would love the Game Show Network. He enjoyed the competitions, and especially the word puzzles. It was fascinating for him to watch the contestants as they struggled to find answers to sometimes simple questions, and amazed when they responded correctly to some extremely difficult questions. Games have a way of equalizing what appears to be disadvantages, and even humbling the most talented among us.
I soon discovered that basketball was “king,” and all other sports were secondary. My personal desire to be a priest was tied into being a part of the seminary community, and because basketball was king, I needed to be a part of that optic.
I always consider it a privilege to offer the final commendation at the funeral of one of our priests. Last Friday, I exercised that privilege at the funeral of Fr. Ed Kasten, who led a long and faithful life as a priest for almost 65 years, dying at the age of 94. At the end of the Mass and before the final commendation, Fr. Jim Lobacz, Vicar for Senior Priests, offered a statement recounting the priest’s assignments.
I can’t believe that it is April. Time moves so quickly, especially when you’re older. There is an old saying, “April showers bring May flowers.”
Last Sunday in Luke’s Gospel, the disciples of Jesus ask Him to teach them how to pray. There was a signature to the prayer that they were seeking. It’s not that the disciples weren’t praying. Rather, it’s that they wanted to pray the way Jesus would direct them. They wanted His mark on their prayer.
There are certain events, celebrations or occasions in our lives when the good feelings and rightness of actions are intermingled with the powerful interactions of those involved. This presents a situation which is so tangible that one uses the expression, “I wish I could bottle this.” The expression emphasizes that, at some time in the future when things are not so great, we could use a shot of this emotional vitamin to aid us in our sense of dismay.