And I waited for it.  I waited for my son to ask the other kid - “wanna be my friend?”  He always asks this question when he meets someone his age.  They start playing; they start getting along; and then he asks the question; as if to validate that they have indeed become friends.

No thought about it.  No second-guessing.  No complications.  Just, “wanna be friends.”

My son has a lot of friends.  He makes them so easily.  There are kids he has played with once who he talks about as if they’ve been life-long friends.

Wow, do I wish I could be like him.

We make friendship so hard.  Too many rules; too many expectations; too little time.  It seems we tend to hang onto the friendships we made when in school for so long because it’s easier to keep a friendship once made and too hard to make new friendships as we grow older.

My 1st grade daughter is the same type of person as her brother; always easy to make a friend.  I went to her school last week for lunch for a great “Harvest Day” turkey feast (that’s Thanksgiving to you and me).  We were standing in line and I noticed that her class friends symbolized the American melting pot; African-American, Asian, Hispanic and Caucasian.  They were all playing; having fun; doing what kids do.  No thought of race or religion or socio-economic background.  They were just kids. 

They were friends.

Yet, too many of us tend to segregrate ourselves in what friendships we have.  If you are like me, your friends tend to be just like you.  We find it just too hard to find common ground with someone different than us; someone that doesn’t come from the same background as us.  It doesn’t make us bad and intolerant people; it just means that we struggle to find Christ in others that have different experiences than we do.

And that is our challenge.  “Wanna be my friend” should be our constant thought; our guiding principle in our relationships with others, no matter who they are.  We need to recapture our ability to make friends and find common ground with others without hesitation.  We need to realize that we are all children of God and he expects us to be one people, his people.

My children are starting fresh in their perception and opinions of others.  God willing, my wife and I will do what is necessary to ensure they are always quick to make friends and look at all others as fellow children of God and co-heirs with Christ.

I’m sure tonight, I’m going to hear my son talk about his ”new best friend” and I’ll know Christ is alive in his heart.  And it is an inspiring and uplifting thought to behold. 

We adults have just made things too hard; and we have so much to learn.

But he did envision it and he did write about what he saw.  And there is much for us to learn about what God chose to tell him.

This week’s first readings at Mass have progressed through Revelations.  Today, it was Revelations 10.  In it, St. John tells us about an angel who tells him to take the scroll and eat it.  He promises that it would taste “sweet as honey” but warns that it would turn his “stomach sour.”

St. John obeys in his vision and, sure enough, the scroll does taste sweet as honey and does turn his stomach sour.

How much of our present day culture is the same way?  There is much in our culture which feels great when we are experiencing it but leaves a destructive impact in its wake.

Want to have sex with whomever and wherever you want?  Want to look at porn all night?  Want to abuse alcohol and use drugs?  Want to overindulge on fats and sweets?  Want to smoke?  Want to put down the remote when you should be changing the station, or reading something when you should be turning the page, or sticking around on a conversation when you should be walking away?

Want to leave your wife and family because it’s just too tough or too restrictive?  Want to take care of that “little” inconvenience growing in your body?  Want to take care of that “old” inconvenience taking up your guest room?  Want to change the subject when you should be standing up for your faith in conversation with others?  Want to feel like your king of the world by using and dominating others?  Want to buy that new “gotta-have” when you don’t have the money?  Want to work those extra hours even though you should be at home?

There are so many instances in our every day lives when we are tempted to “eat the scroll.”  The scroll consists of all of those things in our lives that may appear pleasurable and harmless, but are in reality destructive to our souls, our relationship with others, and our covenant with God.

Our culture is so toxic and so destructive that we are at a point when we just have to decide to put aside the scroll and embrace the way Christ has set forth for us.  Heck, we’ve veered so far off of the path that most of us don’t even realize the sour feeling in our stomach after eating the scroll, when we give in to our passions and desires.  Our culture is destroying our bodies, our relationships, and our eternal lives; and all we can think about is the fleeting, sweet taste remaining on our tongues and wondering when we will taste such sweetness again.

So what’s the answer?

Today’s Gospel Acclamation proclaims “[t]he sheep hear my voice, says the Lord; I know them and they follow me.”  Today’s Gospel (about Christ clearing the temple) tells us that “all the people were hanging on his words.”

And maybe that’s the answer.  We must hear his voice and follow him.  We must hang on his every word.  If we are listening to him, following him, giving our full attention to him, we will not be tempted by the scroll.  We will let it pass us on by without a moment’s hesitation.  The temptation will come and go.  We will look on the memories of our past lives with regret instead of longing; never to repeat the sins of our past again.

And we will not have to deal with the destruction of so many bad choices.

We’ve been handed the scroll time and again, and we have devoured it.  We must now reject the scroll for something better; for the bread and wine; for the body and blood of Christ.  It is then when we will truly experience the exquisite sweetness that God wants to give us each and every day of our lives.

Visitation was between 5:00 last night through 9:30 this morning.  Sixteen-and-a-half hours to pay final respects to this most remarkable of priests and rarest of men.

I woke up early this morning and went over to St. Susanna’s.  5:30 in the morning and there were a handful of mourners there, even at that hour.  A family of six was leaving as I arrived.  Fr. Dan was laid at the altar steps in a very simple coffin.  Teddy bears at his feet.  The look of absolute peace reserved for the deceased.  A Knight of Columbus ceremoniously on honor guard in full regalia.

I sat for a while looking at Fr. Dan trying to figure out why he meant so much to me.  After all, I am not a member of St. Susanna’s.  I go to weekday Mass there about once a month.  He wouldn’t know me from Adam.  Yet, I recognize the very real and lasting impact that this Man of God has had on me.  And I sat there trying to figure it out.

I started looking up at the altar and recalling him saying Mass; from the days when he was energetic and vibrant, through the slowing movements, through the cane and stool at the altar, through the wheelchair; through the last Mass I remember with him. 

I recalled him at the altar and it occured to me that he drew me into Christ each and every Mass.  When I started going to St. Susanna’s, it was at a time when I was slowly awakening from the spiritual deadness I had stumbled into in my thirties.  As a matter of fact, it was four years ago this month that Christ started reeling me back to him.

And Fr. Dan was a large part of my reawakening because he was instrumental in bringing me back to the Mass and drawing me into the Eucharist.  He just had a way of leaving me wanting more.  Because of Fr. Dan, I wanted to go to Mass more often; I wanted to experience communion with Christ as often as was practicable (suburban parish Mass times being what they are).  He made me realize that the Mass and Communion were gifts and graces from Christ; a gift and a grace that Christ never withholds from us.

He helped me to build the foundation I have needed in the past four years to find my way back to the path of Christ.  It’s become clear to me that Christ used Fr. Dan to bring me back to him.  There is no question in my mind that I would not have made it back without falling in love with the Mass once again.

I left St. Susanna’s this morning as more and more mourners were coming.   It’s so obvious that this man did it; he served Christ as intended; he brought others to Christ through his life and his death; even those not technically part of his flock. 

What a life well-lived; what a way to fulfill one’s life purpose; what incredible success at building Christ’s kingdom here on earth.

Well done, Fr. Dan, well done.  Rest in the peace you so deserve.

This morning, a great priest died; Fr. Dan Schuh, age 57, of St. Susanna’s in Mason, Ohio (a suburb of Cincinnati).  He was one of the greatest priests I have ever encountered.  He was a priest who touched my soul and brought me closer to Christ.    This story in the Cincinnati Enquirer gives a brief background on his life and death.

Fr. Dan was suffering from ALS, Lou Gehrig’s Disease.  While the dreadful disease robbed him of his body, it could not rob him of his spiritual strength and his commitment to shepherd his flock.  He was just a great, great man.  I’m figuring God has a major job for him up in heaven, because his kind are so needed here on earth. 

I do not belong to St. Susanna’s; I belong to a neighboring parish.  But our parishes are in the same cluster, so I occasionally go there for Mass.  The last time I saw Fr. Dan was when he celebrated a Sunday night Mass back in August.  It was one of the most moving masses I have ever been too, as I recounted in this post.  I have also written about Fr. Dan here.

As you can see, even though he was not my parish priest, he gave me something so uplifting; he gave me the gift of seeing Christ face-to-face; he gave me the grace of knowing a saintly man.  And he did it solely through the Mass.  I never talked to him; I never went to Confession to him.  He just found a way to profoundly reach me through the Mass; a connection that began even before he was diagnosed.

It’s a sad day for St. Susanna’s.  They have had an awful year; too many funerals of too many people dying too young.  They are in need of our prayers.  And we need to pray for Fr. Dan’s kids and grandkids (Fr. Dan entered the seminary after his wife died).  They had to share their father and grandpa with the rest of us.  And now I’m certain they are truly going to know the great work that he did to bring so many to Christ.

Grant him eternal rest, O Lord.  And let perpetual light shine upon him.  May he rest in peace.  Amen.

Thank you, Fr. Dan!  I’m sure it’s good to be home.

Today, we commemorate her incredible life and work.  In the opening prayer for today’s Mass, there is a rather poignant plea to God offered through her.

“By her example teach us concern for the stranger, the sick and the frustrated.  By her prayers help us to see Christ in all the men and women we meet.”

Hopefully, the first part of this passage has been well-drilled into our heads; the part about concern for strangers, the sick, the frustrated.  But how about the second part of the passage?  The part about seeing Christ in all of the people we meet?

Do we see Christ in the others with whom we come into contact with throughout the course of our day?  St. Frances saw Christ in everyone she met.  She, like Blessed Mother Theresa, instinctively knew that she was gazing into the eyes of Christ no matter how lowly the person she was helping.  What an incredible way to go through life.

Another related but equally important question is - do others see Christ in us?  Christ works through us to do his work.  Our thoughts, words, actions, works, expressions, tone of voice, appearance; all combine to either show the face of Christ to others or to throw up a barrier that shuts Christ off from using us to fulfill his mission.  St. Frances understood her responsibility to serve as the face of Christ to others.  She understood that her mission was to help Christ in his mission and she couldn’t accomplish her mission unless others saw Christ in her.

St. Frances’ success could most likely be traced to her ability to make a connection between Christ and the people to whom she ministered; to see Christ in others and have others see Christ in her.

We live in an age when people are demeaned, exploited, destroyed, humiliated, and disparaged on a routine basis.  Some for fun, some for entertainment, some for profit and gain, some for power or convenience.  Too many people are shamefully brought low by others who neglect to see Christ in that person and have failed to acknowledge their joint status as children of God.

Whether in our personal lives, politics, sports, business, entertainment, or just plain gossip and discourse, we must never forget that Christ is in each of us, whether we want to acknowledge such or not.  Everyone we meet, everyone we read about, everyone we watch on T.V. or in the movies or see in magazines or online; everyone is a child of God, and should be treated as such.

St. Frances profoundly understood the universal nature of the Holy Face of Jesus; that Jesus shows his face through each of us.  We need to understand as well.

Last night was the end of the season awards banquet.  Anthony Munoz came out to speak.  He is the only Cincinnati Bengal in the Hall of Fame and played on the second to last winning Bengals football team (that would be 1991’s team).  What surprised me was that the kids were jumping up and down for him.  I guess when you are a great man in the community (and Anthony is one of the best we have to offer in Cincinnati), it doesn’t matter if the kids have ever seen you play; they will still admire you.

The highlight of the evening for me though was David Cain.  He describes himself as a “Christian Juggler” or “Juggler for Jesus.”  He is a world-class juggler who interweaves his juggling with talking about Jesus and sharing his Christian faith.  His juggling turns into a metaphor for his faith in Christ.

The particular part of his act that got me was when he started throwing two balls from hand to hand.  He talked about how people are always joking with him by throwing two balls in the air or from hand to hand and claiming that they are “juggling.”  And then he pointed out that juggling is technically throwing more objects than you have hands; the point being that throwing two balls is not juggling.

He then launched into a poignant metaphor.  He said that throwing two balls in the air is like the faith of many.  Ball #1 represents a person’s belief that God exists.  Ball #2 represents a person going to church.    But,  it’s Ball #3 that is important.  Ball #3 represents a person who has accepted Jesus as Lord and Savior. 

In other words, you can believe that God exists (Ball #1) and go to church (Ball #2), but you are not actually juggling unless you have accepted Christ as your personal Lord and Savior (Ball #3).

And this metaphorical part of his act got me thinking.  I always have to stop myself from rolling my eyes when I hear someone talking about the ”day” they ”accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior.”  It just sounds so half-hazard; so easy.  “Bam, I’ve been transformed.  This is the day I’ve accepted Christ.”  As a Catholic, I believe true conversion necessitates so much more from us.

But in dismissing these transformational moments, I think I dismiss something that could help so many in the Catholic Church.

There are many Catholics who are stuck throwing one ball in the air.  There are others who have two balls going.  But how many of us are working all three balls?  How many of us have a personal relationship with Christ?  We believe in the faith; we go to Mass; but do we have that intimacy that allows us to walk with Christ?

And that is what is meant by one who has accepted Jesus as Lord and Savior.  We as Catholics are taught that we belong to Jesus through the Sacraments.  We don’t think in terms of that first moment when we first believed.  Most of us have always just believed and haven’t thought too much more about it.

So, maybe we need to take a cue from our Protestant brethren.  Maybe we need to think in terms of accepting Christ as our Lord and Savior; renewing our commitment to him and strengthening our relationship with him.   It need not be a sudden, transformational moment.  But, there does need to be a point when we recommit to following Christ; to truly living our Catholic faith; to truly serving others and taking seriously our inheritance as children of God.

It’s not enough for us to just have the two balls in the air.  We need that third ball; we need to be walking wih Christ.  We need to be a “Juggler for Jesus.”

It occured to me this morning that today is both the Feast of St. Martin of Tours, 4th century soldier turned bishop, and the anniversary of the cessation of hostilities in World War I.  It’s the latter that has led to the long-standing holidays of Veterans Day in the U.S., Armistice Day in Europe, and Remembrance Day throughout the British Commonwealth.

I find great irony that we honor today both veterans throughout the world and St. Martin, the patron saint of soldiers.  Somehow God found a way to get us to link the two. 

Our own soldiers are in need of our prayers.  They are proud, dedicated, selfless, patriotic and duty-bound.  They are quite simply the best we have to offer here in America. 

In the past week, I’ve spoken with the fiancee of someone who just got back from Iraq and the father of one still over there.  For various reasons, they are wondering whether we back home really care about what they are doing over there. 

They are busting their butts to protect us, often reupping for additional tours of duty, but we seem preoccupied with other things.  They are acheiving victory despite our best efforts to get in their way, yet we refuse to acknowledge the good work they are doing in bringing peace and security, and liberty and freedom, to the people of Iraq and Afghanistan.

If you know someone currently serving, say a prayer today to St. Martin that they be kept safe and succeed in their mission.  Also pray for their families.  If you know someone who has served this nation (ever), say a prayer for them in thanksgiving for their sacrifice. 

We literally owe them our freedom, our liberty, our fortunes (no matter how small), and our lives.  Let us never forget them and what they have done for us.

And I guess that my thoughts keep coming back to the state of the pro-life cause.

Let’s face facts, pro-life measures failed in five states (I’m counting the abortion related measures in CA, CO and SD; the stem cell measure in MI; and the killing the elderly measure in WA).  The majority of Catholics rejected the moral teachings of the Church in choosing their candidates; including 45% of those who sit in the pews every week.  These teachings weren’t just on some side issues; they were on issues of life and death.  Issues deciding whether we will continue to impose our secular will on a decision God has asked for us to leave to him.

So, it just wasn’t a good day for folks living on both ends of the life spectrum (the unborn and the elderly).  And I’ve been trying to figure out where we go from here.

And then I came across today’s gospel and it gave me a thought.  In Luke 15, Jesus is preaching the parable of the Lost Sheep.  The well-known point of the parable is to relay the message that even if we sin and become lost, Jesus is looking for us; and when he finds us, there will be great rejoicing in heaven.

Maybe, that’s the lesson we need to take from this election.

For the foreseeable future, we are not going to be able to protect the unborn and the elderly through proactive legislation and regulation on the federal level.  We will be hard-pressed to do so in many states.  We are on the defensive on the governmental front.

So, like Christ, we find ourselves having to go after the lost sheep; one by one.

We educate, educate, educate - mothers, teenagers, single women and men, parents, our family and friends.

We ask these questions -

1. What does an unborn baby look like in the womb?  As Cardinal Egan pointed out last week, an unborn baby looks like a little baby very early on.   Let’s not be afraid to make this point; visually if necessary.  We are talking about a person, a child; let’s not permit them to be called anything less than human.  It is not the “termination of a pregnancy” or the exercise of one’s “reproductive rights.”  The unborn children are not “fetuses” or “tissue.”  Let us not back down from the fact that our society is killing unborn children.

2. Why is the billion dollar, mega-abortion industry so unregulated?  Garbage collectors are under more regulatory scrutiny than abortionists.  Let’s talk about this as an issue and be concerned with the health and safety of the women who walk into these clinics and allow abortionists to do the most invasive of procedures.  Ask people the question, would they seek out a dentist that was unregulated?

3. Why do minors have to get consent (or at least notify) their parents or guardians on every other medical procedure but not an abortion?  Let’s raise the question with our peers; and get parents to be concerned enough to be paying attention to their daughters and asking the right questions.

4. What help is available for mothers during pregnancy and what adoption alternatives are available after birth?  Let’s be ready with this information on a moment’s notice.

5. How do we ensure that babies born to the economically disadvantaged are able to escape a life of poverty and that their mothers can as well?  Let’s be ready with this information and point them in the right direction.

6. Why are abortions seemingly marketed primarily to two particular demographics - the poor (white and black) and teenagers?  We need to educate these mothers and let them know that their life circumstances do not necessitate them killing their children.

These questions are not geared toward convincing folks that some piece of legislation is needed.  No, these questions are intended to persuade people that abortion is wrong on a deeply societal basis and to help mothers make the right choice; to choose life.   They are geared at getting all of society to protect unborn children and to truly care about the mother of these children.  They are not a demographic, they are not a market segment, they are not a feminist cause.  Both the mother and child are children of God.

While it would be easier to have the protection of the law, our efforts to save unborn children and protect their mothers do not really need to be aided by law, because the law doesn’t require anyone to actually get an abortion (at least, not yet).

So, if we can’t get the protection of the law, we can still convince mothers to choose life, one baby at a time.  We do not necessarily need legal protections if we can find these lost sheep, one-by-one.

And then there is prayer.  Every single day, let’s pray that the Holy Trinity enters the hearts of mothers, abortionists, and abortion promoters so that they can make the right choices; the right choices not only for the unborn babies they are threatening; not only for the soul of our nation; but also for the quality of their own eternal lives.

And let us pray to Mary, as Our Lady of Guadalupe, to protect these unborn children and see them safely into the light of this world.

One sheep at a time; that’s how we rid our beloved nation of this most horrid of evils.  And as most bishops seem to have found their public voice on this issue, it appears we will have our shepherds to lead us forth in the search.

Today is, of course, the last day of October - the Month of the Holy Rosary.  And I’m thrilled that I somehow prayed the Rosary every day this month.   It’s the longest stretch I’ve ever managed and I have found a peace and trust that was alluding me as October dawned. 

Throughout October, I have found myself becoming more devotional and committed to my conversation with God.  I’m not exactly praying morning, noon and night; but I have stepped up my prayer life in a way I never thought would be possible or necessary.

I have fasted at times, been more attentive at Mass and more focused at Eucharistic Adoration.  I’ve prayed the novenas flying around the blogosphere.  I’ve prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet.  I’ve been more contemplative in praying the Liturgy of the Hours. 

And I do believe that all of these attempts to talk to and hear from God are necessary.  This nation, this Shining City on a Hill, is at a point where we will either become a nation continually blessed by God or one separated from him.

Sometime ago, we started interpreting freedom of religion as being the exclusion of religion.  Some started talking about the separation of church and state and their talk began sounding more like they wanted a separation of God from public life altogether.

And once we started to separate God from our public life, he started disappearing from our private lives as well.  The result has been a culture so toxic and so broken that it has left debris everywhere from the Baby Boomers to each successive generation.  Our teenagers are now only starting to pay their price for our misplaced priorities.

So, what do we do?  We pray, and then pray, and then pray some more.  We recognize our individual guilt in the worsening of our culture; whether that guilt is direct or indirect, by commission or omission.

I’ve been praying the past few weeks for forgiveness.  I’m not a bad person.  I’ve done my best to not support a culture gone wrong.  But have I done enough?  Have I allowed myself to financially support, either directly or indirectly, those institutions which produce and facilitate this stuff?  Have I done enough to stand up for the very simple notion that right is right and wrong is wrong, especially when it comes to the sanctity of life and the marriage covenant?  Have I given into the desire to be entertained no matter the message being sent?  Have I misplaced my priorities?  Do I rely too much on the comforts of this world?

God is asking us to choose; right here, right now.  I really don’t think he is going to give us too many more chances. 

This point is reinforced each morning in the Liturgy of the Hours, which begins each day with Psalm 95.  The verses that always get me are the following:

“Today, listen to the voice of the Lord: do not grow stubborn, as your fathers did in the wilderness, when at Meriba and Massah they challenged me and provoked me, although they had seen all my works.  Forty years I endured that generation.  I said, ‘They are a people whose hearts go astray and they do not know my ways.’  So I swore in my anger, ‘They shall not enter into my rest.’”

Too many of us have stopped listening to the “voice of the Lord.”  Too many have grown stubborn.  We challenge God and provoke him.  God has been patient, but he may soon decide that we are beyond help; that our hearts go astray and we do not know his ways.  He may soon decide to just let us wander around.

So, as I’ve gone through this month, I’ve been burdened by my fear that God will turn his back on us and leave us to sink in our own mire.  But as this month progressed, and the Rosary decades started adding up, I became aware that this month of prayer and fasting was giving me a profound sense of hope that we can turn it around.  We can create a culture that is healthy for our kids or a constructive force in our own lives.

Today’s Morning Prayer included Psalm 51 (the Miserere Mei), the one King David wrote after Nathan called him on the carpet for his affair with Bathsheba and his complicity in having, Uriah, her husband killed.  It’s a powerful plea for forgiveness.  When I prayed it this morning, I found myself substituting the second person for the first person (”we” instead of “I” and “us” instead of “me”).  I found myself praying for our nation, for our people. 

As this month of October comes to a close and we turn our attention to the month of November, the month of saints, all souls, and thanksgiving; it is a good time for us to think about whether we are preparing ourselves for life eternal and whether we are helping our fellow travelers to do the same.  The state of our culture is a vital measure in determining the adequacy of our preparations.

I’m betting we can get this thing turned around.  If we turn back to God; if we listen to his voice.

And we would be wrong in thinking that we are lone wolves protecting our pack.

Today’s first reading is from Ephesians 6.  St. Paul talks about us putting on the “armor of God” to resist the evil in our lives and hold our ground.  He also talks about the “breastplate” of righteousness, the “shield” of faith, the “helmet of salvation” and the “sword of the Spirit.”

In other words, Christ is with us in every struggle we face.  He is our armor, our breastplate, our shield, our helmet, and our sword.  He is everything we need to prevail in the battles of our lives.

But there is more, St. Paul also tells us that we need to “pray at every opportunity in the Spirit” and “be watchful with all perseverance and supplication.” 

And most importantly, we need to ”draw [our] strength from the Lord and from his mighty power.”

We are not fighting alone, if we pray and rely on Christ.  We are not fighting in vain if we use all of the graces given to us by God to help us in our daily struggles with evil and sin.

There is a great battle going on in our culture today; it’s a fight that impacts our families, ourselves, and our neighbors.  God expects us to engage in this fight for us and for them; and we best put on his armor to ensure that we have every chance to win.

I’m reminded that David refused the armor of men when he faced Goliath.  Instead, he chose the armor of God.  And that choice made all of the difference.  We cannot rely on our strength (i.e. the armor of men) in this fight.  We must, like David, rely on the armor of God.  He is all that we need to prevail.