And then there were 68

68 Days that is...

We have just 68 days until the start of our World Youth Day pilgrimage. Last night was the marathon meeting where I torture participants and parents (for the minors and a few of the college age kids) with a full display of my Type-A personality and love of Presentation (Apple's version of Power Point).

All the legal forms for the minors are now out. Everyone has their packing lists, suggested spending money, itinerary, air and hotel schedule, final week suggestions, phone tree form, and behavioral covenant. And yes, for those that know me, they are color coded.

Now I just wait to get all those forms back and go through them - passport copies, emergency phone tree, checking signatures, all that fun stuff. I get a bit of a breather on the paperwork side until July 1 when all that is due back to me.

Whew.

All Gave Some

At my brother's wedding, the quote was used, "All gave some, some gave all." This was in reference to the three friends of his who had died in service of our country. As a graduate of our nation's military academy, that might not be such an incredible percentage. But when you consider he had graduated just four years before and that those three young men left family and friends behind, you cannot trivialize. Nor can you ignore that the numbers of our service men and women who have sacrificed themselves for what they believed, for their country, for us has had approximately 6,000 added to their number over the past ten years.

Lest we forget, for all those souls lost to war, there are many more suffering the physical, psychological and emotional trauma.

Lest we forget, there are thousands of families who struggle with the grief of their loss. They grieve over the deaths and wounds. They grieve for the time spent apart. Yet, there is a sense of pride, fulfilling duty, and that increasingly illusive sense of honor.

As we leave Memorial Day behind, do not forget about the military families, current and past in your community. Make sure you are responsive to their needs as they can be so very different from the 'normal' family. Make sure your youth of parents that are serving abroad are being particularly ministered to in their unique struggles. Look to your young adults that are service members, siblings or spouses of service members. Ensure their pastoral cares are being met.

I know what I speak of. Nearly every major military conflict going back to the Civil War has had a family member serving. My father is retired military. My brother finished his service to our nation just yesterday. I rejoice knowing he will not be sent to war any more. I also have a little of my heart break every time I read a story of a military family or a service member's death.

Do not let Memorial Day observances be the end of your ministry to those who daily serve you.

Wrong Words

Did you ever consider we might be using the wrong words?

I just got an email from a group that began by citing statistics on how people are leaving the Church and the need to respond. Yes, this is an issue. I would be the organization has great ideas and wonderful resources.

But I think our fundamental issue may lie in how we talk about the issue.

We get so concerned over empty pews, low collections, and poor engagement. We play the numbers game. However, might it be our very concern over these numbers indicate part of what drives people away.

Now I know that the reasons people leave the Church or never give it a chance are complex and varied. But might we be missing the boat when we don't look at the relational issues?

Instead of concerning ourselves with those who are or are not coming to Church, those who aren't donating, or those who aren't engaged, what if we addressed things differently. What if we instead concerned ourselves with the fact that all these numbers indicate that there is a large group of people without a relationship with God, without spiritual food, without a community of faith and support? Perhaps if we started to talk about the problem, not as it affects us in the institution, but as it affects people, we may find ourselves on the right track.

The Shadow of a Man

Most people at some point in their lives wonder what impact they have had on others. Sometimes this comes when a parent is sending their child off to college or as one lies close to death.

At the ripe old age of 30 I have come to a conclusion. We will never know the full impact of our lives and it is probably for the best that it is so.

With the world looking either to London or Rome, depending on your particular interests this weekend, I was thinking about the impact of Pope John Paul II. He never knew the impact he had on me.

It is because of Pope John Paul II, his creation of WYD, and the words he spoke in Rome 2000 that I am here. By here I mean not only in ministry instead of law, but I wonder if I would be as active in my faith if it wasn't for that WYD experience.

Nonetheless, this is one of those things I realize - in all our ministries we will touch the lives of others in large and small ways. We will rarely see these moments of grace, but that will not negate their power.

In truth, I would rather not know all these moments of grace. If I did, I fear I would believe myself responsible for them instead of the Spirit.

Louder!

Every year for the Living Way of the Cross, we have to rehearse one part over and over. And it is an easy part - The point in the Way of the Cross when the crowds yell, "Crucify Him!"

Every year the kids are too quiet. These are the same kids who just five minutes ago I had to shush for talking too much while 'back stage' in the sacristy. It is one thing for them to talk about the latest app they put on their phone or whose stole looks better (the girls, the guys usually couldn't care less about their costumes). It is another thing for them to shout at the top of their lungs to crucify Jesus.

Why is that?

I know a big part of it is that they are shouting in church and they, as teens, really don't want to stand out that much. But I wonder if it isn't something more.

Is that moment a moment when they enter a bit more fully into the story? Do they start to realize the actuality of what the crowd cried for and what in turn Jesus allowed to happen? Maybe they are, through their timidity, showing how afraid we all are to admit that it is our sins that put Jesus on that cross.

Such an Odd Day

Today is a day of questions.

"Are you the King of the Jews?"

"Which one do you want me to release to you, Barabbas or Jesus called Christ?"

"Then what shall I do with Jesus called Christ?"

"Why? What evil has he done?"

"My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?"

These questions that appear in today's Gospel are so powerful. They have the ability to challenge the state, topple religious authority, condemn to death, and express absolute despair.

Tonight's youth group is going to focus on these questions. We will ask a few more, too.

Ultimately, we are going to look for an honest answer. An answer to the question asked at the Vigil on Saturday - Do you believe?

Shoes

Oh the difference of a liturgical year!

Last year this time I was debating with a lovely young woman from Wisconsin the relative merits of the two pairs of shoes I had in my luggage. This was a highly unusual conversation for me as I have little interest in shoes beyond looking appropriate. However, that was the crucial issue. Comfort and appropriateness.

Last year on the Saturday before Palm Sunday I was in a retreat center near Rome staying up far too late with new friend from around the globe. Eventually I had to tear myself away from the celebrations and head to bed. I had to leave before the sun would even rise.

I had to catch my ride to the Vatican.

Those of us from the conference who were to be involved in the Palm Sunday Mass had to arrive at St. Peter's in time for our various roles. I went in the first car with several young women from Africa who were ill prepared for the chilly 40-something degree weather we had at 6:00 am. Thankfully it did warm up by Mass, but I felt so sorry for them. While I was chilled, this Midwesterner could hardly complain.

Looking back I remember most strongly a few odd things.

1. 
   
   My feet hurt terribly. My legs were turning to jelly. When wearing heels and standing, walking, and standing in St. Peter's Square, you have no hope. Especially when the entire Palm Sunday Gospel is sung while standing in said heels.


2. 
   
   The security guy standing right by me. As we who were reading were in the second row, the security was right by us to stop anyone from rushing up to the Pope. The security person by me was a pleasant gentleman in his 30s or 40s. He cracked a smirk when I switched shoes during Mass (the jelly feeling left me questioning my ability to walk to receive the Eucharist). He smiled and pointed to his own comfortable shoes.


3. 
   
   Looking out and seeing thousands of people. To be in front of the crowd when you've been in the crowd so many times is a surreal experience. To look out and see where I was at WYD 2000, where I sat taking photos in 2003, and to be awed by the honor.


4. 
   
   Making sure I didn't trip because my youth group kids were having a sleepover to watch me at the Mass!

It was only after that I processed things like the Pope was there and listened to me proclaim the first reading. It was only after that I realized that the size of the crowd was likely in the tens of thousands. It was only after that it truly dawned on me that this was a once in a lifetime experience.

And it is only now that I can truly appreciate the exceptionally comfortable shoes I will be wearing to Mass this weekend.