Homily in memory of Michael Roberts

Three weeks ago today a young man, Spc. Michael C. Roberts, made a decision to place the lives of others ahead of his own. Three weeks ago.

Was it just three weeks ago? Seems like yesterday… seems like months or years ago… It was a lifetime ago.

I read the email from Joanne informing me of Michael’s death late that Saturday night. Like many of you I was stunned and immediately began to think back to the last time I got to see him, the last time I spoke with him.

(As an aside, the last time I got to hear his voice, Michael was at Fort Campbell and was on the phone with his grandmother who was then in the hospital. Mrs. Ryan asked him, “Michael, do you go to church?”

“Yes, gramma.”)

Michael dominated my thoughts as I tried to sleep that night and as I got up early the next morning. He was in my thoughts all that day and much of most every day since. But especially that day.

You see, early the next morning I was at church preparing for Mass when I would proclaim the gospel of the day, as I did so I was taken aback. For on that day the scriptures we read at Mass reminded us that: "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

In light of Michael’s death, those lines hit especially hard that morning, and they took on an importance like never before. “He must deny himself and take up his cross…”

That is why we are here today, because Michael ─ who many here may first think of as a little baby; or a laughing, running little boy playing with his brothers; or a goofy, lively, teen wearing a band uniform and playing his tuba ─ Michael, who grew into a remarkable young man and an exemplary soldier, mustered the courage to deny himself, and sacrifice his life so that others might live. “Greater love hath no man….”

There is a Latin phrase which I believe is apropos. Nomen est omen – literally name is omen. This phrase carries the sense that a name might tell us something of one’s destiny.

Michael is from the Hebrew and means – Who is like God? In the New Testament Michael is the leader of heaven's armies, and thus is considered the patron saint of soldiers.

Nomen est omen. Christopher, of course, means bearer of Christ. I’m sure when Dave and Kathy were deciding what name to give to the son who was the latest addition to their family, Michael Christopher sounded good. In light of how he lived his life and particularly in light of how he used his life, that name is perfect.

Jesus said, “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.” Toward that end he surrendered his life so that death might be conquered and eternal life restored. Michael too gave his life that others might live. This was Michael’s gift to the world ─ his life that others might live. Our challenge is to honor that gift. Do not let it be squandered.

To be sure, there is the pain of loss. That pain is but a reminder of how much he was loved. If that pain of loss is the price we have to pay for the gift having had Michael in our lives for this all too brief period of time, that price is worth it.

Dave, Kathy, Patrick, Brian, all the Roberts and Ryan families and friends, honor Michael’s gift. Use it. The more abundantly you live your lives, the greater is his gift.

There is a saying that funerals are for the living, not for the dead. And, indeed the Christian funeral should bring hope and consolation to the living. But the primary purpose is to affirm the union of the living with the departed and commend the dead to God’s merciful love.

In the sacrifice of the Mass we offer our greatest gift, our greatest prayer to the Father for Michael. In this re-presentation of the paschal mystery we join ourselves with the Blessed Mother and with all those at the foot of Christ’s cross and share the anguish of loss at the death of a son, a brother, a friend, a loved one. But we also gather in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection.

As I mentioned, the gospel reading on the Sunday following Michael’s death challenged us to deny ourselves and take up our own crosses. I failed to mention the concluding line of the gospel that day. The passage ended, “For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father's glory, and then he will repay all according to his conduct."

“Repay all according to their conduct.” The judgment of men regarding the conduct of Spc. Michael Christopher Roberts is evident. He earned the Purple Heart and his actions saving the lives of others was recognized by the Department of Defense with the Bronze Star, He earned the NATO Medal, and Combat Action Badge and judging from their comments, the love, admiration and appreciation of all those with whom he served.

His life earned him respect and brought laughter and smiles to his family, friends and comrades serving us on the front lines of a war which, until I heard of Michael’s death, I thought was a world away. His death, along with pain, brings pride in having been privileged to know him.

As we continue with the Mass and recognize our own confused mingling of pain and pride at this tragic loss from heroic sacrifice, we do so with firm confidence that a merciful and loving God will find Michael deserving of the eternal reward promised us through Christ Jesus, Our Lord.

Thank you Michael, and may your soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

It's no longer an intellectual exercise....

A friend tells a story of when he was a teenager in driver’s education. He had a great grasp on theory from the work in the classroom, but the first time he was actually in the car he had a mishap when he mistook the accelerator for the brake, went over a curb and damaged some landscaping. His instructor informed him that he would receive a failing grade because of the incident. My friend protested, “But I got 100% on all the tests!”

The instructor simply replied, “Son, you’ve got to realize that driving is not simply an intellectual exercise.”

This story came to mind for me as I meditated upon my response to something that has been weighing greatly on my mind this week. With the approach of the 10^th anniversary of the attacks of 9/11, I have spent time reflecting on what has occurred in the aftermath of those attacks. Initially, our response as a nation was to launch a “War on Terror.” I recall shaking my head at the level of hubris as our former president made a promise to eliminate evil. Within a short period of time American troops were on the ground in Afghanistan in a quest to find Osama bin Laden, mastermind of the attacks.

No one ever wins a war in Afghanistan; ask the Russians, or the British, or the Persians, or the Mongols, or the Greeks. Of course when the United States went in, much of the opposition consisted of the Taliban ­─ the people we armed and supported when they were fighting the Soviet Army.

It appears that the mountainous regions of Afghanistan and neighboring Pakistan provide excellent hiding places ─ at least they served well for Mr. bin Laden for the better part of a decade. Meanwhile we began to hear more and more about the evil of Saddam Hussein. At first I wondered if our leaders were confused or I was. I felt somewhat like Winston Smith as I recalled the faint memory that it was somebody with the name Osama rather that Saddam whom we held responsible for the terrorist attacks of 9/11. But it seemed the rhetoric from the District of Columbia began to focus more and more on Saddam and a bit less on Osama and my attention span began to lag.

It didn’t take long before we were engaged both in Iraq and Afghanistan, looking for Saddam or Osama or whoever was the target of the moment. I may have had some qualms about what we were trying to achieve and questioned the decision making of those in charge. But, like most Americans, I was not directly affected so I simply continued to pay my taxes while maintaining emotional distance and a comfortable attitude of moral and intellectual superiority -- in essence saying to myself, “These guys are idiots, but what can you do?” The war was, for me, merely an intellectual exercise.

That changed for me very suddenly on Saturday night when, right before going to bed, I checked my email. I had one new message in my inbox from Joanne Ryan. It was then that I learned her nephew, Michael, had been killed. Specialist Michael Roberts, a 23-year old soldier whom I have known since he was about eight years old, died Saturday when insurgents attacked his military police unit using an improvised explosive device. Michael was on his second tour of duty, having previously served in Iraq.

With Michael's death the war became real. This was the death of a someone who was not just another unrecognized name on an ever expanding list, but a name I knew -- one with a face, a smile, and a voice that I recognized. This was a little kid I once joked with who had become a remarkable young man with whom I shared a beer while listening to his stories of a soldier’s life in Iraq. Suddenly this war that I had managed to ignore, or dispassionately witnessed as if seen in my peripheral vision, was no longer a mere intellectual exercise but a source of deep pain carrying with it an acute sense of loss.

My thoughts these last several days certainly have been on Michael, his parents, brothers and family, and on what might have been. But there have also been thoughts of reproach for clinging so long to the illusory idea that this war does not touch my world. The death of Michael Roberts has given me a heightened awareness of the truth of John Dunne’s reminder, “Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.”

May God give you rest Michael, and may He have mercy on me.

What we don't hear....

I'm not a big fan of conspiracy theories (you can hear a "but" coming here about now can't you?) however (fooled ya!) I am intrigued by a few things I did not read or hear from the major media sources in the past two weeks. Consider:

Item 1: On August 10, 2011, two new bishops were ordained for the Archdiocese of Chicago. The two men, Bishop Andrew Wypych and Bishop Alberto Rojas are now major figures in serving the 2.3 million Catholics in Lake and Cook Counties, IL. I guess that is less significant the the three men who were going to be spending 24 hours living in a tree in Lincoln Park -- a story the Sun Times did find worth covering at the same time. My lack of a journalism degree apparently prevents me from understanding that editorial choice.

Item 2: Michelle Bachmann wins the Iowa caucus. Question: Who was second? To listen to the major broadcasters you would think it was Texas Gov. Perry or Mitt Romney as the pundits declared that the race for the Republican presidential nomination is now a three-tier race between Bachmann, Perry and Romney. Leave it to Jon Stewart to be the one to question why Ron Paul's performance is being ignored.

Item 3: A group of young girls from St. John Cantius marched through Chicago and up Michigan Avenue carrying bright yellow balloons emblazond with the word "LIFE". These balloons were strung together as a rosary. From one pro-life site that did pay attention to the event we hear:

For the school girls, there were lessons to be learned in the response of onlookers like the homeless people who gave high fives, street preachers who burst into the singing of Gospel songs, and in the semi-truck drivers who shook the streets sounding their truck horns in approval.

“I was completely ecstatic the whole time. I loved seeing how many people on a random street corner were thrilled. It is a lot more than we tend to think,” said one participant.

“A passerby tweeted, “A balloon rosary in the air. My faith confirmed:)”, while another surprised Chicagoan wrote, “What the ...giant balloon rosary, with cross just floated heavenward from the Michigan Avenue bridge.”

After coming to the Chicago River the girls launched their balloon rosary with the Wrigley Building and Trump tower as a backdrop. It made for a compelling video, but one that was completely ignored in the major print and broadcast media.

I can speculate as to why the media seems to have such a selective awareness of events, but doubt that it would be of much use. I am encouraged to recall that Jesus told us that "... the ruler of this world has been condemned." Therein lies my hope.

Why wear that collar?

From the time of the restoration of the Diaconate as a permanent order in the Latin Rite of the Catholic Church, barrels of ink have been spilled regarding the issue of whether permanent deacons should wear clerical garb. In some dioceses, it is assumed that deacons will wear "clerics" so that they are readily recognized as members of the clergy.
Other dioceses, including my own Archdiocese of Chicago, have an established practice that permanent deacons not wear the collar unless they are actively engaged in areas such as prison ministry or hospital chaplaincy in which the wearing of such distinctive garb helps facilitate that ministry.
For myself, as I have commented to the Vicar of Deacons on several occasions, "I don't like wearing a tie. why would I want to wear a Roman collar?" Well, those days may be at an end for me and this change has caused me to reflect on what the wearing of the collar might mean.
A few months back, our parish began to serve as a temporary home for a congregation of Chaldean Catholics who had sold their facility which they had outgrown but who did not as yet have a larger church in which to celebrate Mass. As my pastor had another obligation on the first weekend our visitors would be at the parish, I was to be the member of the clergy to represent the St. Lambert parish community to welcome our guests. While my own parishioners have been long used to seeing me in my role as deacon, I was an unknown to this other congregation and not readily identifiable as a deacon.
It was then that my pastor suggested that he would like to see the deacons in the parish wear clerical garb on Sundays to both serve as a ready identifier and reinforce in the minds of all the people the clerical status of deacons. So that we would not be mistaken for presbyters, the pastor suggested we wear black trousers and grey clerical shirts. Like it or not, I was going to be wearing a Roman collar.
Last weekend was the first time that I wore that collar. I anticipated some remarks from friends and parishioners questioning whether I was bucking for a promotion or trying to pretend I was a priest (the type of comments I would make were I in their shoes). But the reactions I got weren't quite the ones I anticipated.
Most people seemed to feel that it not only looked good, but that it seemed appropriate. There were, to be sure, several people who addressed me as "Father", but no more than normal. I was surprised however when one parishioner -- with whom I've been acquainted for several years, but with whom I have had little interaction -- approached me to ask a few questions regarding the Scriptures. It may have been coincidental and only because the pastor was engaged in conversation with someone else while I happened to be standing there -- but she had not done anything like that before and I could not help but think the wearing of the collar had increased my credibility in her eyes.
Again, the reactions were positive and affirming and led me to reflect on what the collar means and, more specifically, what it means to me. All of my life, I have accorded special respect to those men who wore Roman collars, a respect that was directed as much to the person as to the position. However, I know all too well the person that I am and that I am the same person with or without the collar. I know that I was not ordained because of any qualities particular to me, but simply in response to an undeserved calling.
Suddenly I am caused to view the collar in a different way and I can only call to mind the words of Jesus expressed in Matthew 11:29-30, "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for your selves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."
Suddenly it began to make sense to me. At least in my case, the collar is a yoke, serving to indicate one who is but a beast of the field whose only purpose to do the bidding of the Master. Considered in that light, I can not only wear the collar, I find it quite appropriate.

In whom do you place your faith?

Perhaps one of the benefits of my aging is that I have had the opportunity to learn just how unrealistic it is to expect those whom I hold in high regard to be any more free of human failings than I am myself. Be the arena one of sports, politics, social justice or religion, may times I felt let down by men and women who fell short of my idealized version of them.
However they may have tried to hide their shortcomings from public awareness, my heroes were certainly not unaware of their frailty. St. Paul is one of those heroes who was both aware of his failings and acknowledged them. In 2COR 12:7 he reminds us "... that I might not become too elated, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated," and he refers to himself as the "...least of the apostles."
As years go by, I no longer expect those whom I hold in some esteem to be paragons of virtues in all areas of their lives. Nonetheless, when one I admire is shown to be less than I hoped, whether it be a politician, actor, athlete or religious figure, there is some sense of betrayal. This is playing out for many in the case of Fr. John Corapi.
He brought many people into or back to the faith by his personal witness and powerful preaching. He never avoided and indeed boldly confessed the many failings of his early life and used his own example to point the way to Christ. The compelling nature of his story and the energy he brought to evangelization and catechesis made him somewhat of a "rock star" among Catholic preachers.
It appears now however that he is something of a fallen star.
A press release from the Society of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity, his (former) religious order, indicates that there are grounds to believe that Fr. Corapi may not have been as exemplary in his personal life as his many admirers might have hoped. There are many feeling a sense of pain and betrayal because of these revelations. All we can do is to pray for Fr. Corapi and for all parties involved including the many who are now experiencing confusion and hurt.
The faith of some may be shaken, however it was never about John Corapi. I am sure that he would be the first to remind us all that it is Jesus Christ who is the foundation of our faith. Whatever the failings of His ministers, Christ is the center of our faith and we have the opportunity to unite ourselves to Him in the Eucharist.
J.R.R. Tolkien made this point in a letter to his son when he wrote, "I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament." He further emphasized that it is Christ and not His ministers on whom we rely when he went on to advise:

Also I can recommend this as an exercise (alas! only too easy to find opportunity for): make your communion in circumstances that affront your taste. Choose a snuffling or gabbling priest or a proud and vulgar friar; and a church full of the usual bourgeois crowd, ill-behaved children – from those who yell to those products of Catholic schools who the moment the tabernacle is opened sit back and yawn – open necked and dirty youths, women in trousers and often with hair both unkempt and uncovered. Go to communion with them (and pray for them). It will be just the same (or better than that) as a mass said beautifully by a visibly holy man, and shared by a few devout and decorous people. It could not be worse than the mess of the feeding of the Five Thousand – after which our Lord propounded the feeding that was to come.

I pray for all those affected by the current situation and hope that is comes to a good conclusion. However it turns out, we still have Jesus Christ, "...the same yesterday, today and forever."

What is the compelling interest of the state?

With the recent passage of legislation in New York State recognizing homosexual "marriage," I am prompted to ponder what the role of the state is in regulating marriage. In ages past the argument was made that the state had an interest in the encouragement and fostering of families as the building block of society. As redefined in recent legislation marriage is itself divorced from the very concept of family.
In 1974, the Washington Court of Appeals ruled that, “The fact remains that marriage exists as a protected legal institution primarily because of societal values associated with the propagation of the human race.” (Singer v. Hara, 522 P.2d 1187, 1195) Indeed, this same purpose has been repeatedly cited in other court cases. But we are now living in a world in which a vast number of individuals seek to separate sex from procreation. Simply put, one large segment of the population seeks sex without children while, at the same time, another segment is seeking to have children without sex. What a world!
When a state recognizes a marriage, it bestows upon the couple certain benefits which are costly to both the state and other individuals. Collecting a deceased spouse’s social security, claiming an extra tax exemption for a spouse, and having the right to be covered under a spouse’s health insurance policy are just a few examples of the costly benefits associated with marriage. In a sense, a married couple receives a subsidy.
Absent the interest in promoting procreation and protecting the traditional family as the optimal environment for raising children, what is the compelling interest of the state in recognition of "marriage"?
The cynic in me predicts that the parties who will benefit most from this redefined institution are the divorce lawyers

Where's the focus?

A reporter noted that Francis Cardinal George has written books reflecting on the role of God and the Church in the world and asked the Cardinal if he had considered writing a more personal memoir. Cardinal George responded: (full story here)

I'm not very good at that. A priest is supposed to point to Christ, not to himself. I really believe that firmly. … I found that strange when I first got to Chicago. They were all very interested in my personality and all the rest. … All of a sudden charisma became the qualification for leadership. If you're not charismatic, you can't lead. Whereas the church is very different. It's the office that counts. I'm going to be gone. It's the office that's important, not me the officeholder. … Priesthood is an office, and we're trained, well trained, to disappear behind the office.

This seems to have a tone strikingly different from that adopted by Fr. Michael Pfleger, another Chicago-based Catholic churchman, who went to a nationally broadcast radio show to express his thoughts on the possibility that he might be asked to change assignments at the request of the local ordinary to whom he made a promise of obedience: (full story here)

"I want to try to stay in the Catholic Church," Pfleger said. "If they say 'You either take this principalship of (Leo High School) or pastorship there or leave,' then I'll have to look outside the church. I believe my calling is to be a pastor. I believe my calling is to be a voice for justice. I believe my calling is to preach the Gospel. In or out of the church, I'm going to continue to do that."

There certainly seems to be a difference in focus.... just sayin'.