Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock. The angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were struck with great fear. The angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people (Lk 2: 8-11).’”
Catholics Coming Home
Come Home for Christmas...the door is always open
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Hospitality...like Martha Stewart?
I doubt Martha speaks Greek, but if she did she would tell you that the word hospitality is Philos (loving) + Xenos (the stranger). Today, however, the word hospitality conjures thoughts of carefully planned menus, perfectly set tables, down pillows and comforters, thirsty towels and impeccable service. Somehow the act of welcoming the stranger has been redrawn to include only the people we invite into our homes or those we pay so we can stay in their hotels.
It is true that an enticing meal and comfortable sleeping arrangements are signs of being a good host. But Christian Hospitality, as Jay Voorhees, pastor of the Antioch United Methodist Church, writes in his blog http://onlywonder.com/, is "to understand that everyone who walks through the door is Jesus Christ. ... To offer hospitality here is to celebrate when some new person is sitting in “your pew,” to ignore the mud that is being tracked in on the carpet, and to be willing to do new things so that our guests may better know the love of Christ."
What are some new things that we at St. Thomas can do so that our guests may better know the love of Christ?
For starters we can make ready our hearts for the arrival of newcomers. One simple example is of the newcomer who enters without taking a worship aid. He or she might not know that we use them rather than a missalette. Perhaps if we see someone without one, we can offer them ours and return to the Host-Greeter for a replacement. This act of kindness not only shows our willingness to meet one another where we are, but our willingness to pray together.
What else can we do?
It is true that an enticing meal and comfortable sleeping arrangements are signs of being a good host. But Christian Hospitality, as Jay Voorhees, pastor of the Antioch United Methodist Church, writes in his blog http://onlywonder.com/, is "to understand that everyone who walks through the door is Jesus Christ. ... To offer hospitality here is to celebrate when some new person is sitting in “your pew,” to ignore the mud that is being tracked in on the carpet, and to be willing to do new things so that our guests may better know the love of Christ."
What are some new things that we at St. Thomas can do so that our guests may better know the love of Christ?
For starters we can make ready our hearts for the arrival of newcomers. One simple example is of the newcomer who enters without taking a worship aid. He or she might not know that we use them rather than a missalette. Perhaps if we see someone without one, we can offer them ours and return to the Host-Greeter for a replacement. This act of kindness not only shows our willingness to meet one another where we are, but our willingness to pray together.
What else can we do?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Benedictine Hospitality
The Benedictines are known for a profound practice of hospitality which we should all strive to emulate. The simplicity of welcoming the stranger necessitates an intrinsic understanding of who the stranger truly is, and by whose grace we extend our greeting.
The Rule of St. Benedict 53:1-2, 15
Let all guests who arrive be received like Christ, for he is going to say: I was a stranger and you welcomed me (Matt. 25:35). And to all let due honor be shown, especially to thouse who share our faith (Gal. 6:10) and to pilgrims. ...In the reception of the poor and pilgrims the greatest care and solicitude should be shown, because it is especially in them that Christ is received.
Learn more about the Benedictines.
The above image is a detail from a mural painted by Fra Angelico, located in the Monastery of San Marco, Florence where Fra lived between 1439 and 1445.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
For Crying Out Loud
By Jack Shea
A woman, in her late forties and stylishly dressed, approached the priest as he stood outside the church after the 9:45 am Mass. “That baby screamed throughout your entire homily. Why didn’t you do something? You should have told the parents to take the child out. Didn’t that crying bother you?”
In fact, it did bother him. He lost his train of thought a couple of times, but he managed to get back on track. Preachers quickly learn to override the baby competition. This does not mean they win the battle to be heard. It just means they don’t stop, break down, and cry themselves.
But there is something profoundly disturbing about asking a crying baby to leave. Besides the embarrassment to the parents, there are deeper issues involved in this very minor moment of liturgy. Could it be that the nature of Eucharist welcomes crying babies?
There may be dozens of practical reasons why babies should be left at home, but there is one overwhelming reason why they should be present. They are one of us. Crying comes with the baby territory. (Actually, it comes with the adult territory, too; but we repair to the bathroom and do it more quietly.) People may try to quiet babies, but nobody begrudges them a good wail. When they are there, the human condition is rounded out. And their occasional or sustained outbursts remind us of a fact that liturgies often leave us in doubt about. We are alive.
Excerpted from Daybreaks, Daily Reflections for Lent and Easter, written by Jack Shea, copyright ©2008. Used with permission of Liguori Publications, Liguori, MO 63057. 1-800-325-9521. www.liguori.org
For information about this booklet of beautiful reflections, please click this link: http://www.liguori.org/productdetails.cfm?PC=10975
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Meet Matt
Meet Matt: a recent college graduate starting a new position with a local corporation. Matt is 24, single, and just might be sitting behind you next weekend at Mass.
Matt’s story is not unusual. In fact, the first part is more common than you might expect. The second part however, is relatively rare. What happens involves every member of a welcoming community. Young adults, single and married, represent a third of our parish population. How do we measure up?
Early on in his sophomore year at State, Matt’s roommate Josh invited him to check out Sunday Mass at the campus Newman Center. Matt knew that Josh had been a part of that community since freshman year and was involved in some outreach ministries.
Matt was hesitant to accept. Not because he wasn’t Catholic. He was; his parents made sure he had his sacraments, but that was where his religious experience ended. He couldn’t remember the last time he attended Mass with his folks, he felt lukewarm about the whole church thing, and wasn’t sure he wanted to be accountable to his roommate if he decided to bag it. Matt had to admit though, that Josh seemed pretty normal so he reluctantly decided to join him. Surprisingly, he found the Mass experience to be energizing. He just felt good to be there, and started going week after week and even volunteered a few hours on weekdays with various ministries including tutoring a few local poor kids after school. Matt discovered he thrived on the experience of being a member of a community where he could strengthen his faith and discover spiritual gifts. He found himself growing as a leader. Unfortunately, when Matt graduated, he found himself without this connection. He felt lost and wasn’t able to find anything even remotely close to his experience with the Newman Center.
One Friday night over pizza and beers with his buddies, the typical conversation about work, lousy commutes, and the playoffs somehow drifted to the topic of the Newman Center that most of them attended at State. Although some said they occasionally showed up at their local parish, they missed the experience of campus ministry. Matt agreed, admitting that he really wished he could find a church like it. But then, one of the guys, Steve, started telling them about his girlfriend’s parish.
“It's different.” he said, “They are really friendly, you know? The music is unbelievable. It’s just like Newman except you might be sitting next to someone who reminds you of your grandma, and you know what? She’s just as happy to see you as if she was your grandma!” Steve continued, “Sheila’s folks are long-time members and on the way out they introduced me to the youth minister. You would not believe how cool this guy was. Turns out, they are looking for people just like us. We talked for a long time and he told me about some of the things I could get involved in and said to come back the following week for a planning meeting.”
He paused, grinning “You guys’ game?”
Matt was the first to answer, "Count me in."
Matt’s story is not unusual. In fact, the first part is more common than you might expect. The second part however, is relatively rare. What happens involves every member of a welcoming community. Young adults, single and married, represent a third of our parish population. How do we measure up?
Early on in his sophomore year at State, Matt’s roommate Josh invited him to check out Sunday Mass at the campus Newman Center. Matt knew that Josh had been a part of that community since freshman year and was involved in some outreach ministries.
Matt was hesitant to accept. Not because he wasn’t Catholic. He was; his parents made sure he had his sacraments, but that was where his religious experience ended. He couldn’t remember the last time he attended Mass with his folks, he felt lukewarm about the whole church thing, and wasn’t sure he wanted to be accountable to his roommate if he decided to bag it. Matt had to admit though, that Josh seemed pretty normal so he reluctantly decided to join him. Surprisingly, he found the Mass experience to be energizing. He just felt good to be there, and started going week after week and even volunteered a few hours on weekdays with various ministries including tutoring a few local poor kids after school. Matt discovered he thrived on the experience of being a member of a community where he could strengthen his faith and discover spiritual gifts. He found himself growing as a leader. Unfortunately, when Matt graduated, he found himself without this connection. He felt lost and wasn’t able to find anything even remotely close to his experience with the Newman Center.
One Friday night over pizza and beers with his buddies, the typical conversation about work, lousy commutes, and the playoffs somehow drifted to the topic of the Newman Center that most of them attended at State. Although some said they occasionally showed up at their local parish, they missed the experience of campus ministry. Matt agreed, admitting that he really wished he could find a church like it. But then, one of the guys, Steve, started telling them about his girlfriend’s parish.
“It's different.” he said, “They are really friendly, you know? The music is unbelievable. It’s just like Newman except you might be sitting next to someone who reminds you of your grandma, and you know what? She’s just as happy to see you as if she was your grandma!” Steve continued, “Sheila’s folks are long-time members and on the way out they introduced me to the youth minister. You would not believe how cool this guy was. Turns out, they are looking for people just like us. We talked for a long time and he told me about some of the things I could get involved in and said to come back the following week for a planning meeting.”
He paused, grinning “You guys’ game?”
Matt was the first to answer, "Count me in."
Friday, February 22, 2008
28-year old Mary
“Looks like a popular Mass,” Mary thought as she slowed to a stop in front of the church. A small crowd crossed in front of her, avoiding puddles of melting snow as they made their way to the church entrance. “Looks young-ish too,” she noted, watching a young father manage three adorable children who had captured the attention of a group of teenage girls. Several well-dressed middle aged couples greeted each other with hugs. “So far, so good,” Mary thought as she navigated her way around the crowded parking lot, an obvious sign of health. And based on the happy looking people she had passed on the way in Mary felt optimistic. She already liked the look and feel of the exterior and had high hopes. “This might be the place for me.”
Just eight months earlier, Mary accepted a job transfer to manage a regional sales group located in the Midwest. The new job came with a hefty salary increase, a company car and covered all of her moving expenses. Mary had never considered leaving the East Coast, but she was still single, 28 years old, and living in the heartland of America appealed to her, regardless of its lack of landscape. She joked with her old friends that Illinois was “flat as a pancake” but the people seemed nice.
Now, looking back, Mary recalled four words her dad whispered to her just before she boarded the plane “Find a nice parish.” He never failed to ask her every time they spoke, “Have you found a church yet?” Somehow, Mary was able to brush over the fact that she had not. In fact, since she had arrived, her old college habit of not attending church at all became the norm once again. It seemed okay for a while; she was busy at work and finding her way around really kept her busy. But now, the busyness was wearing off, and she was lonely. Her job was stressful; she craved a peaceful place where she could be centered. She joined a yoga class which helped a little, but not enough. Mary needed more. She often thought about the various charitable causes she supported in the old neighborhood, and wondered if there was a soup kitchen or shelter where she could volunteer her time. Sometimes she cried as she prayed late at night. One night, as she lay awake listening to the whistle of a distant train, Mary heard the sound of church bells, and she heard her dad’s words: “Find a nice parish.”
She realized she needed to meet other young adults and reconnect with a faith community. Months earlier Mary received a postcard from a nearby Catholic church welcoming her to the neighborhood; she was amazed to find it was still in a messy pile of papers under her coffee table. Coincidentally a friend from work had mentioned the name of that same Catholic Church, although he also invited her to join him for services at his non-denominational church.
Mary walked through the doors, passing clusters of people engaged in small talk, some greeting old friends, others in more serious conversation. No one noticed her. “It’s okay, why would they notice me; look how big this place is.” She picked up a song sheet on her way into the sanctuary. The church was nearly full, and most people were chatting with friends or family members sitting nearby as they waited for the Mass to begin. Such happy faces, how friendly and warm it felt. It pulled at her heart. “This is a good place,” she thought as she scanned the pews for a place to sit. She spotted what she thought was a seat, but as she drew nearer, she saw several coats on the pew, no room for her to sit. A few people looked up from their conversations but no one acknowledged her, or motioned to her that she could sit with them. No usher appeared to help her find a seat. Walking to the back of the church, her optimism waning, Mary stood there for several minutes and finally decided to stand in the back of the church.
At the beginning of Mass, everyone was invited to turn around and greet those around them. And they did. It was amusing, Mary thought, watching people leave their pews to greet the same people they had just finished talking with. She tentatively put out her hand several times, and attempted to make eye contact. But no one greeted Mary. She felt awkward. She felt invisible. “I’m here to worship,” she reminded herself as she sang along with the congregation and participated as best she could. When it was time for the sign of peace, Mary decided that she would offer peace to the people in the row in front of her. She stepped forward and waited while they hugged each other. She smiled weakly as they turned away from her, reaching across the pews to shake the hands of the people in front of them, the same ones they greeted and chatted with earlier. Feeling a little self conscious, Mary looked around and saw an older woman still sitting and offered her a sign of peace.
“I have to be fair, these people all know each other, and they don’t know me.” But, feeling more alone than ever, Mary slipped out the back after communion. No one noticed.
Just eight months earlier, Mary accepted a job transfer to manage a regional sales group located in the Midwest. The new job came with a hefty salary increase, a company car and covered all of her moving expenses. Mary had never considered leaving the East Coast, but she was still single, 28 years old, and living in the heartland of America appealed to her, regardless of its lack of landscape. She joked with her old friends that Illinois was “flat as a pancake” but the people seemed nice.
Now, looking back, Mary recalled four words her dad whispered to her just before she boarded the plane “Find a nice parish.” He never failed to ask her every time they spoke, “Have you found a church yet?” Somehow, Mary was able to brush over the fact that she had not. In fact, since she had arrived, her old college habit of not attending church at all became the norm once again. It seemed okay for a while; she was busy at work and finding her way around really kept her busy. But now, the busyness was wearing off, and she was lonely. Her job was stressful; she craved a peaceful place where she could be centered. She joined a yoga class which helped a little, but not enough. Mary needed more. She often thought about the various charitable causes she supported in the old neighborhood, and wondered if there was a soup kitchen or shelter where she could volunteer her time. Sometimes she cried as she prayed late at night. One night, as she lay awake listening to the whistle of a distant train, Mary heard the sound of church bells, and she heard her dad’s words: “Find a nice parish.”
She realized she needed to meet other young adults and reconnect with a faith community. Months earlier Mary received a postcard from a nearby Catholic church welcoming her to the neighborhood; she was amazed to find it was still in a messy pile of papers under her coffee table. Coincidentally a friend from work had mentioned the name of that same Catholic Church, although he also invited her to join him for services at his non-denominational church.
Mary walked through the doors, passing clusters of people engaged in small talk, some greeting old friends, others in more serious conversation. No one noticed her. “It’s okay, why would they notice me; look how big this place is.” She picked up a song sheet on her way into the sanctuary. The church was nearly full, and most people were chatting with friends or family members sitting nearby as they waited for the Mass to begin. Such happy faces, how friendly and warm it felt. It pulled at her heart. “This is a good place,” she thought as she scanned the pews for a place to sit. She spotted what she thought was a seat, but as she drew nearer, she saw several coats on the pew, no room for her to sit. A few people looked up from their conversations but no one acknowledged her, or motioned to her that she could sit with them. No usher appeared to help her find a seat. Walking to the back of the church, her optimism waning, Mary stood there for several minutes and finally decided to stand in the back of the church.
At the beginning of Mass, everyone was invited to turn around and greet those around them. And they did. It was amusing, Mary thought, watching people leave their pews to greet the same people they had just finished talking with. She tentatively put out her hand several times, and attempted to make eye contact. But no one greeted Mary. She felt awkward. She felt invisible. “I’m here to worship,” she reminded herself as she sang along with the congregation and participated as best she could. When it was time for the sign of peace, Mary decided that she would offer peace to the people in the row in front of her. She stepped forward and waited while they hugged each other. She smiled weakly as they turned away from her, reaching across the pews to shake the hands of the people in front of them, the same ones they greeted and chatted with earlier. Feeling a little self conscious, Mary looked around and saw an older woman still sitting and offered her a sign of peace.
“I have to be fair, these people all know each other, and they don’t know me.” But, feeling more alone than ever, Mary slipped out the back after communion. No one noticed.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
For I was a stranger and you welcomed me
"For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.
Then the righteous will answer him and say, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?'
And the king will say to them in reply, 'Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.'' --Matthew 25:31-40
Beginning with Ash Wednesday, St. Thomas will host several powerful Lenten events, each of which speak to the heart of our call to be the hands and feet of Jesus, to be both the giver and the recipient of spiritual nourishment.
Lent is a time of reflection and of hunger. Some of us pare back by "giving up" sweets, bread, eating between meals, and other food items. Our small sacrifices often cause our focus to shift to the great sacrifice Jesus Christ made for us and recognize new opportunities to "be Christ" by channeling our own hunger pangs to helping alieviate the hunger of those who struggle every day of the year.
Hunger comes in many forms, including, of course, literal hunger. But, one type of hunger experienced by so many is the hunger for a connection, to be acknowledged, to have friendship, to break through the barriers of loneliness, to feel a sense of belonging.
This Lent we have multiple opportunities to help "feed" each other, at home, school, work and in the community. St. Thomas can replenish your hunger too. Come and See.
Then the righteous will answer him and say, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?'
And the king will say to them in reply, 'Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.'' --Matthew 25:31-40
Beginning with Ash Wednesday, St. Thomas will host several powerful Lenten events, each of which speak to the heart of our call to be the hands and feet of Jesus, to be both the giver and the recipient of spiritual nourishment.
Lent is a time of reflection and of hunger. Some of us pare back by "giving up" sweets, bread, eating between meals, and other food items. Our small sacrifices often cause our focus to shift to the great sacrifice Jesus Christ made for us and recognize new opportunities to "be Christ" by channeling our own hunger pangs to helping alieviate the hunger of those who struggle every day of the year.
Hunger comes in many forms, including, of course, literal hunger. But, one type of hunger experienced by so many is the hunger for a connection, to be acknowledged, to have friendship, to break through the barriers of loneliness, to feel a sense of belonging.
This Lent we have multiple opportunities to help "feed" each other, at home, school, work and in the community. St. Thomas can replenish your hunger too. Come and See.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels. Hebrews 13:2
I have been searching far and wide for this particular bit of scripture. I can't recall when I first heard it, but it stayed with me, sans the scriptural address. So, I Googled these words: Angels + Hospitality. Among the list of hits was http://bible.cc/, a very cool resource of verses from nearly every version of the Bible and in more languages than I have time to count. Check it out. And, digging deeper into the Google results list I found a new resource for daily inspiration: http://www.upperroom.org/daily/?m=200708. While this is a Christian, (not Catholic) site, it follows the common lectionary and includes quotes from magazines and books published by Upper Room. Quite good, but I digress...
Hebrews 13:2 speaks loudly and clearly about being in the present moment--having full awareness in welcoming. When we think of the word hospitality, images of hotels and restaurants appear --with waiters eager to serve. And yet, hospitality means so much more than making someone comfortable and offering refreshment. It is far more than being greeted with a smile and a handshake, although we know these gestures communicate that our presence is welcome.
Hospitality means that regardless of familiarity, appearance, available space, invitation (or lack thereof), we must always present a welcoming face to each person we meet. Angels or not, we are all God's children, loved equally and wholly, and perhaps connected by the heavenly filament of Angelic song. Let us greet one another that way.
Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels.
--Hebrews 13:2
Hebrews 13:2 speaks loudly and clearly about being in the present moment--having full awareness in welcoming. When we think of the word hospitality, images of hotels and restaurants appear --with waiters eager to serve. And yet, hospitality means so much more than making someone comfortable and offering refreshment. It is far more than being greeted with a smile and a handshake, although we know these gestures communicate that our presence is welcome.
Hospitality means that regardless of familiarity, appearance, available space, invitation (or lack thereof), we must always present a welcoming face to each person we meet. Angels or not, we are all God's children, loved equally and wholly, and perhaps connected by the heavenly filament of Angelic song. Let us greet one another that way.
Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels.
--Hebrews 13:2
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