Me Levante Con El Pie Izquierdo

Not long ago I had a string of days where I woke up feeling bla, gloomy, and even moody. I didn't feel like getting out of bed and I kinda wished no one else would either. I would have loved to take a "personal day" but I don't have personal days. I felt like calling in (downstairs) sick but I wasn't sick, I just had the blues. I love listening to the blues but I had having them. I didn't feel like exercising, going out...nothing!

I struck me it was time to suck it up and be an adult. I thought of the moms and dads, single parents and others who have to get up under horrible and heroic circumstances to provide for their families. There is no calling in sick or taking a personal day because that means no food on the table. I don't mean to be over dramatic but it is a reality that is more common than we'd like to think.

So I go up and "celebrated" 7:45am Mass, preached and returned to the office. I could have sat at my desk all day. There was nothing so urgent that couldn't wait unto tomorrow but there were things to do, as always. I picked myself up and tried to hide my feeling-sorry-for-myself mood. I went and visited an elderly couple in their home who had requested a visit and the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick. They are both dying. Her fight for cancer is over. The doctors have taken her off of all medications and is letting time - and cancer - do its thing. Her husband is dying slower. I could feel their love for each other; there was so much that they wanted but couldn't talk about, namely her death. We talked about it; they cried.

I had them move so that they were sitting close together and we reverently, slowly, and deeply prayed. We listened to the Gospel recognizing that Jesus was speaking to us, they closed their eyes for the laying on of hands, recognizing that Jesus was laying his hands on them. They listened carefully as they each were anointed on the forehead and the palms of their hands. Finally, I asked them to hold hands as we prayed the Our Father. I blessed them and left.

I have anointed countless people; the ritual is the same, people are often elderly and dying. Yet, on this day I felt God ministering to me as he ministered to them. I was receiving as I was giving. I too had encountered and received God, not in a sacramental way, but in an unforgettable way.

I then headed off to a convalescent home. Note, this is not the first place one would want to go when experiencing the doldrums and yet this is where I needed to go. I spent an hour there going room to room. I smiled, blessed, caressed, and talked to people. They looked how I felt. Next, I drove down the street to another convalescent home that we minister to. Wheelchairs filled the hallways, heads slumped, some groaning, others just starring at nothing. I stopped and spoke with most of them and went through many of the rooms talking to people. I joked with them, sat with them and encouraged them to pray and watch Angel's baseball.

Nothing extraordinary happened; I was still feeling like I was moving in slow motion but I had just spent 3 hours visiting sick people. I did what I should have done, I did what so many people have to do every day with harder work and longer hours. Somehow I felt satisfied.

In Spanish they say "me levante con el pie izquierdo", which means to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. My left foot (el pie izquierdo) was tired by the end of the week. I was encouraged by the example of Mother Teresa - to smile and serve even when you feel like pulling the sheets over your head and hiding.

Recommendations for getting through "the blues":

1. Get out of bed
2. Pray
3. Serve
4. Have a nice dinner and a glass of wine (or Guinness - adults only) with friends
5. Listen to music you like
6. Play an instrument
7. Call a friend
8. Offer it as a spiritual gift for someone else who is suffering
9. Know that it will end

You're Welcome

I received the following "Thank You" cards from some children who recently received their first Communion.


Letter #1: "Who would have thought?"

Response: Yes, I have been attending Mass lately. Thank you for noticing. Apparently, you have too.



Letter #2 "Bad Taste?"
Response: No offense taken.



Letter #3 "Priceless"

Response: Dear Ashely:

I'm not sure where to start! Here I go:

You're very welcome... I'm glad to hear that you already have a Dad and I'm sure he's wonderful. However, I am a priest so feel free to call me "Father". I do not have children or a dog, however, because I am priest I am called to love and serve everyone as God's children just as a good Father would do. I did have a dog I liked a lot called Whiskey. Like your goldfish, he died too. Ashley, I will die some day but I will be with Our Father and I'll be OK.

Love,

Fr. Brendan

The following letter is from an 8th grader letting me know he is praying for me while I am on retreat with the other priests from the diocese. He's got some questions, of course.

Response: Dear 8th grader. Thank you for your prayers. No we don't chase each other or play tag, there are no bible games and, therefore, no prizes to hand out and no one even brings their "priestly garb". We are dressed in casual clothes - usually shorts and a regular shirt or T-shirt. Yes, even the bishops. The day begins with morning prayer followed by breakfast. At about 8:30am we we have a guest speaker who talks to us about different elements of priesthood and how to become a better Christian. We have lunch and then about 3 hours of free time. Some priests play golf, others tennis, jogging, some take a nap and read, and many swam and relaxed in the pool. No there were not wearing their priestly garb; they were wearing swimming shorts. In the evening we have Mass, dinner, another talk and then we just hang out and talk.

I understand why its hard to imagine priests not wearing their clerics, as we call them, but you probably see priests all the time wearing regular clothes but you don't recognize them because we look like everyone else. We are human, after all.

-Fr. Brendan

PS. I'm wearing shorts and a tank-top (no shoes).

Future Priests?

Where will the new priests come from? Our homes, our parishes. Over the last couple of months I have encountered God's undeniable working in the young of our parish. When I say young I am talking about 7-10 year-olds. Now the cynic may write off anything a 7 year-old says as being the dreamy talk of children. I remember being 7 myself. At one point I wanted to be a truck driver just like my uncle.. I would sit on my bed with my improvised walkee-talkie and invisible steering wheel. However, the two strong desires that drove me at that age were to be a soccer player and a priest. Not one or the other, but both. Because I have already blogged earlier about this I'll spare you the details again but it is important to note that God speaks to us through our desires, talents, and passions even in our childhood. Naturally theses desires need to be discerned but never dismissed.

Recently I heard the confession of a young boy. While he was confessing it crossed my mind to ask him to be open to a vocation to the priesthood. It had nothing to do with his confession, it just entered my mind as clearly as could be. As he finished he confession he got up to leave and then sat down right away and I said "can I ask you something?" I responded "You want to ask me about the priesthood, don't you". He was stunned and said "how did you know?"

God speaks to us, within us, but also through one another. Let's listen carefully.

One of my nephews is incredible conscious of God, loves to read about Him, asks great questions and has a sense of how close God is to him. His joy at receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation and First Communion was divine. Like many children he was worried he would say or do something wrong but more than anything he was excited. I went with him and his parents to his first reconciliation/confession. He wanted to make sure we got there really early. When his dad asked him were he wanted to sit he lead us to the front pew, right in front. As you might imagine there weren't many families positioning for the front pews. We sat alone for quite some time until the pews and the whole church filled up. When it was time for confession he jumped up and was first in line.

The day before Easter my nephew asked his dad if they could go to the sunrise service at 6am for Easter! His dad told him that if he woke up and got ready in time they would go. My brother was a bit surprised when his son woke him up and said "let's go dad". And so they went. He also likes reading a kid's Mass missal, Magnifikid, on the way to Church. He looks over the prayers and readings and lets his Dad know if there are any discrepancies between the missal and what is being said at Mass.

The third example of a possible priestly vocation took place during a tour of the Church I was giving to children preparing to receive First Communion. I showed and explained the different things we use for Mass and asked and answered questions. After the 60 kids were dismissed there was boy who stood in front of the altar with a troubled look on his face. You know the kind: his forehead was wrinkled, he eyes were purposefully pointed up at me with his hands firmly planted in his pockets. As his teacher stood at a distance I said "Hi, do you have a question?" He said how do you preach?" I was sure I misheard him and so I asked him to repeat his question. To my surprise I had heard him correctly. I was as puzzled as he was troubled and I asked him "Do you need to preach"? He said "I'm scared of preaching and if can't preach I can't become a priest" Wow! I bent down and told him "I'm scared when I preach too! What I do is pray first and ask God to let me hear what he wants to say to me and to those who will attend Mass. I read the readings prayfuly, then study them and finally start to write what I am going to say. Don't worry", I told him, "Jesus told us not to worry about what to say because he would send us the Holy Spirit who would help us know what to say" The boy looked a little relieved, said thanks, and walked away with his teacher. His forehead wrinkles had subsided a little but I could tell he was thinking it over deeply.

Will these boys become priests? Only God knows. When I was 7 I thought I would be a priest, from 16-25 years old I would have laughed and now at 36 and I am still amazed that I am a priest. God speaks to us and to our kids and places a seed, a desire in us that needs to mature and be nourished through prayer - both listening and speaking to God - and an encouraging Christian environment especially at home.

It seems to me that children are actually great listeners! Let's listen to them and help them respond to God's call.

Pray for vocations and support them at home and at your parish.

Pray for us Now and at the Hour of our Death. Amen!

Walking with someone through the last moments of their life is a fairly rare occurrence, unless you're a priest that is. Death does not always give due notice and so it often catches many by surprise although, paradoxically, it is one of those very few things in life we know will happen. Perhaps we will be able to say that final goodbye to one of our parents or loved ones but certainly not all of them. It is the "when" that catches us by surprise, of course, not death itself. And so it is a special grace for the one dying and their loved ones to have some proximate warning that he or she is dying so as to prepare as best as one can.

How many times have we prayed to Mary: "pray for us now and at the hour of our death"? She certainly assists us now and will do so at the hour of our death whether this comes suddenly and without warning or is somewhat anticipated. Nonetheless, what a blessing it is to have the grace to prepare oneself to meet Christ face to face at the moment of death. I would like to share just one of those moments with you.

On a day not long ago I received 2 messages within a very short amount of time. Written on red paper to indicate a "sick call" I looked at them and they were both said urgent "not sure how long he will live". I went to the first house. It was man I had anointed about 6 weeks earlier. I remembered him because there was something very dignified yet simple about him. He didn't have the sophisticated look of a rich man but of a man full of virtue. As the message indicated, he didn't look well. His eyes were half open at best. He sat in his chair noticeably uncomfortable as he repeatedly tried to reposition himself although he didn't have the strength even to budge. He slowly mumbled out the words that he was dying. When I asked him how he felt when he thought about dying he said "happy". This wasn't the "happy" of a desperate or bitter man who had given up his struggle to fight on. Rather, his was a "happy" of man who knew where, or rather, to Whom he was going. I didn't need to ask him to explain.

As I prepared to administer the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick, probably his last time, I told him not to worry about making the sign of the cross or trying to say the responses. Instead, "your heart can do the talking", I told him. His care giver was in the room, a woman in her 40's. I began: "The grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you". After a pause, he gathered up his energy and breathed out "and also with you". I wasn't about to tell not to talk. I spoke to him about the grace of the sacrament, how it was Christ himself who was lying hands on him and anointing him through me. I mentioned that all of his sin were forgiven and through the prayer of Apostolic Pardon all debt due to sin loosed. In others words, our Lord had come to get him himself, maybe today maybe in 10 years but he's good and ready.

At the end of the rite of anointing I said "let us pray in the words Christ taught us". As I began the Our Father I realized he was once again gathering his strength to join his voice to mine. I waited and we slowly continued together and prayed the Our Father to our Father.

That is dying with dignity. It has nothing to do with the suffering, the tubes and the like, it has to do with the man connected to them.

I realized it had been a half hour and that I had another man gravely ill to anoint. I arrived at his house within 5 minutes and meet several people inside. Two of his daughters, 3 other younger relatives, a hospice worker, and nurse were waiting for me. I entered the room with the family, pulled up a chair next the man lying in his bed with his oxygen mask. His breathing was deep and intermittent. He was struggling to breath, gasping. It didn't take a medical degree to realize death was quickly approaching.

I asked the family if their dad was responsive and they said "no", that he didn't make any physical movements or reactions to their words. I told them that while his body may not be responding he very well might be quite conscious nonetheless. Sitting in the chair next to the man I held his hand and introduced myself to him. "Hi, 'Jim', I am Fr. Brendan from Our Lady of Guadalupe Church and I have to come anoint you and prepare you for God." Then, I invited the family to participate with me in praying the Rite of Anointing of the Sick. All of us slowly and solemnly made the sign as if we were learning how for the first time. I turned to the side and greeted the Italian family who energetically responded "And also with you". Next I encouraged the dying man and the family to join me in calling to mind our sins and ask for God's mercy. Once again they actively responded..."Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy".

...And the man stopped breathing.

The daughters let out a big sigh. "Oh my God, he stopped breathing" As they called in the nurse I immediately stood up, leaned over the man and anointed him while praying the formula of anointing: Through this holy anointing, may our Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. Amen. So that freed from sin he may save you and raise you us. Amen" Just then the nurse rushed in, listed to his heart with her stethoscope and gave me that infamous look you see on TV where they just shake their head once very slowly without saying anything.

The first thing I remember hearing from one of the daughters is "Thank you, thank you Jesus". The other daughter then echoed the same prayer. I understood. This was exactly my first words when my grandma died. Perhaps their reasons were a little different than mine but I understood. The told me several times within the next 10 minutes how grateful they were that a priest come and anointed their father. I, in turn, thanked them for calling me. It was an emotional time for me too. I was caught up in it all myself.

I sat back down in the chair after the nurse noted the time of death and the initial shock of the family passed. Once again, I invited the family to continue to pray with me for their father. We continued with the beautiful prayers for the dead. It reminded me that death is a passage, something more profound and personal than the time of death. This was Jim's passover and we were going to join him as much as we could through prayer. We invoked the saints, we gave thanks, and commended to him to God.

What a beautiful death!

Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen!

Ghostbusters 101

I don't know if I was "sick" the day they taught us about ghosts in the seminary but I found myself ill-prepared the first time I was called to a house because they said they had a ghost. Ummm, OK. Do I grab a bible, rosary, holy water, is there a special prayer for Ghosts somewhere? Should I look under "G" for ghosts or "S" for spirits? What a minute! Do ghosts exist?

I had never given much thought about the existence of Ghosts before. I suppose my philosophy was: as long as they don't bother me I don't care too much whether or not they exist". Now that I am a priest the question has been forced upon me. I can't stand in the shadows and be nonchalant about it. People have called me at least a dozen times in the last year and half to do something.

Is there a ghost litmus test that I can give so that I can know whether there really is a ghost in their house? Wouldn't that be great? "Sorry, ma'am the test came back negative. No ghosts here" Or "Yes, my analysis shows there is ghost. Now I will......" What; what will I do?

Here is my first memorable ghost story:

At a catholic school function a parent I knew told me she had a ghost in her house. She seemed like a "normal", rational person, no more crazy than myself. The woman told me that the spirit didn't appear to be dangerous but there was no doubt that a ghost was in their house. Her husband, children, and neighbors had all experienced things moving, lights be turned off or on, strange sounds and the like. I thought nothing of this. I had no opinion on ghosts. I neither believed nor disbelieved in them...until this night.

I agreed to go over to their house that night with another family and some friends of theirs. After some social time we decided to address this ghost situation. The family told me that the previous owner was a women who lived there for many years and loved hosting parties in her home. Furthermore, the ghost seemed to always be present in or around the dining room. So, we gathered around the dinning room in a circle. There were about 12 of us. The lady next to be said "let's join hands". I immediately responded "No! This isn't a seance; we're going to prayer to God".

Not having any idea what to do, no text, no ritual - I prayed something like this: "God of love, you created us in your own image and likeness and you call us to yourself. I ask you to call your servant home to you now. Mary (the former owner and supposed ghost) don't be afraid of God. God is love and he calls you home. Let go of whatever is keeping you here. What awaits you is a God of love and mercy. Trust is him and go home. Leave this house now and let this family live her in peace. In name of Jesus leave this home and return to the God who created you."

Next, I asked for a bowl with water, blessed it, and went around the house blessing each room. As soon as I began I was so cold that I couldn't keep the water from spilling out of the bowl. I was shivering. I thought NOTHING of it, understandably assumed I was just really cold. After blessing the rooms we all returned to the dinning room for a final prayer. It was then that I looked at the lady to my left who owned the house. She was wearing a sleeveless dress. It immediately caught my attention and so I asked her "aren't you cold?" She said "no". I said, "I am freezing".

I left soon after the final prayer and when I got into my car I remembered that that this freezing sensation is often associated with ghosts. Was it a ghost? I don't know. However, the family tells me that they haven't experienced the ghost sense the blessing.

There are have been a couple of other ghost experiences that seemed really credible. What I do know is that God is more powerful than anything we will ever encounter. For that reason I have not been afraid at all. I don't come with my power but with faith and the power of God, the intercession of his mother, the saints, and the gift of my baptism and ordination.

I should add that I have never experienced anything that I would describe as demonic. That would be a different story completely.

What dumbfounds me are the countless calls that I receive from Latinos who tell me that they have a ghost in their house, they've seen a demon, or there's a shadow following them or their children. I never want to be cynical but the calls are so common and the stories so odd. Is it superstition or a psychological manifestation of some other problem? These calls are usually masked under the question "Can you bless my house". After a year or so of priesthood I have finally smartened up enough to ask them if they have just moved into their house or apartment and they almost always tell me "no". Then I ask them why they want their home blessed and they always tell me because they "see things" or something strange in going on in their house. Errrrrrrrr.

My next move is to ask them if they are baptized, go to Mass on Sunday's, have gone to confession recently and pray daily. The answer is usually "no". I also ask if anyone in the family is involved in superstition, palm readers, witch doctors (not uncommon among Latinos) and the like. As any good doctor would do I assign a healthy spiritual diet of the sacraments and prayer for 3 months and tell them to give me a call back if the problem continues. The medicine seems to be working.

Back to the issue - why all the sightings? Why are they almost all Latinos? One of the common things that several families have described to me is the experience of being held down in bed as if someone was sitting on their chest. They tell me they can't move and can hardly breath. After so many calls like this the similarity interests me and at times frustrates me. More than anything I wish to understand better so that I can serve these people better.

What do you think?

Recent Sightings

Well, I thought I'd touch base and share some recent sights and perhaps even insights.

Lessons from a Funeral

One sight that has not left my mind comes from the funeral from a 10 year-old: the face of the grieving young mother. This was her baby. I remember the the pall bearers unfolding the pall over the casket as is always done only to realize that the coffin was too small for the pall - they couldn't unfold it all the way. The sight of the small coffin remains in my mind even now. An important insight came from all of this. After blessing the body at the beginning of Mass I led the procession into the chapel. As I help my head up I noticed that I was leading the procession of crying friends and family to the altar and towards the large beautiful bronze crucifix that hung behind it. It was as we were walking toward Jesus Christ himself to present the dead child - his child - to him. Like the dead the Lazarus, there appeared to be no hope, nothing to pray for. "[Lazarus] has been dead 4 days already", Mary said to Jesus. What could Jesus do? He raised him from the dead. So too, this same Jesus reminded me during that short procession that we were truly walking toward him with his child and that, despite all appearances, she too would be called out from the dead into everlasting life. Life for this child did not end with death because Jesus destroyed death by his dying and rising.

Confession with a Twist

A priest recently had a startling experience while hearing the 1st confession of a child. After hearing the boy's confession the priest gave the child his penance, bowed his head, closed his eyes, raised his hand in blessing and prayed the formula of absolution: "God the Father of mercies, through the death...." !SLAP! The priest was startled as his hand was slapped. It turns out the boy didn't know what to make of the priest's hand hanging up in the air like that so he figured the priest wanted a "high 5". He got one!

My Condolences!

From time to time the phone messages really pile up. Funerals, counseling, weddings, quinceaneras, etc... The cycle continues as the game of phone tag ensues as new messages and visitors come in. I hope you can understand how I might get things mixed up from time to time. I called Mary (names are changed for confidentiality) to offer my condolences over the loss of her father and to help make funeral arraignments for the Mass. This was very much on my mind during the day. Finally, Mary called back later in the day and said "hi, Father, you called me?" "Yes, I said, I was calling to assist you the arraignments for Mass?" She paused and responded somewhat harshly "arraignments? that sounds pretty morbid!" I said "well, yes its a funeral". She stumbled over her words and finally spit out "what? I'm getting married!" Opps. Apparently, this was a different Mary.

What did you call me?

True Story: A priest-friend in New England was going through the newness of his first year as a priest. He was nervous. He had been told about the large crowds that would be attending the Ash Wednesday services - his first as a priest - and wanted to make sure he was well prepared. Mass was a prayerful experience all was going well until the blessing of the ashes. Father stood up and invited everyone else to do the same. He approached the ashes and in a confident voice and holy water in hand he said "Heavenly Father please bless these Ashes", except he missed the "h".

Focus, Father

On Sunday or Monday I read through all the readings for coming weekday Masses. Then, the night before, I read the readings for the Mass of the following day and begin to put some ideas together for a homily. When I get up in the morning I think and pray about the readings as I shave, shower, and get dressed. At times I get a little too caught up in my reflections. Recently, at the end of my morning routine I was tying my first shoe when I realized I had forgotten to put my pants on. Boy, that would have woken everyone up for the 6:15am Mass!

A Tough Morning!

On a recent day off I slept in until 7:30am, prayed and went out for a nice leisurely breakfast while reading the paper and sipping on my third cup of coffee. Next, I went to a driving range and hit some balls for about 45minutes. (not pretty) The next stop was Best Buy to see how I could spend my $50 gift card that I received for Christmas. Well, after getting home at about 11am. I looked in the mirror - something I should have done earlier apparently - and found my zipper WIDE open and a little gift from a bird on my shirt. Yes, that's right. Somehow, I managed to get...pooped on without even noticing it -right over the Angel's logo on my shirt!

It's not always a pretty sight my friends!

Valuable Kisses on Valentine's Day

It seems that somewhere around January, soon after New Year’s Day, the Valentine’s Day decorations went up. Oh the thrill of it all (sarcasm intended)! As a priest who has made a promise of celibacy for the sake of the gospel (Cf. Mt 19:12) the thought of Valentine’s Day just didn’t get me all…well you know. Although the day is named after, or attributed to, a real person – St. Valentine, there is not a liturgical celebration of St. Valentine as there is for St. Ann or St. Terese. In other words, there is no mention or reference of St. Valentine in our prayers for Mass that day. Moreover, because Valentine or Valentinus was such a popular name and due to the 1500 years of development in the celebration of the day there is not too much certainty about who exactly this particular Valentine is that we celebrate.

I realize that the majority of people who went shopping for Valentine’s Day were not walking around the malls equally troubled by this question as I was. In fact, I would guess most didn’t realize that it is a day to glorify God and celebrate the holiness of a real Catholic martyr. At least with St. Patrick’s Day I can make an attempt to remind and refocus people on who this person was, why he is a saint and what St. Patrick means for us in the year 2008. But how can I celebrate St. Valentine’s Day as a celibate priest with little knowledge of who Valentine was? Although the idea of completely blowing off St. Valentines as a greedy scheme for businesses to make more money was tempting I felt somehow I’d be missing out on something valuable. As I sat down and ate some of those colorful tiny heart-shaped candies that read “Be my Valentine” I did some thinking.

Valentine was a popular Roman name that means worthy or valuable (valor, vale la pena,) Names are very important like Immanuel (God-with-us) or Jesus (God saves). “Love” is also a powerful and important word and rightly used more reservedly in other languages than in English. For example, McDonald’s has the slogan “I love McDonald’s”. This is not translated Yo Amo (love)…but rather, me encanta McDonald’s. While the meaning is very similar it guards or reserves the word “love” or “amar” to very close relationships between people (not hamburgers and fries – though those fries are gooooood).

It is believed that St. Valentine was a 5th century martyr. What makes this difficult is that there were a lot of Christian martyrs during this time and many were named Valentine. Although this uncertainty rattled my scrupulous mind at first it also led me to find the real heart of St. Valentine’s Day. A martyr is someone who gives his life – his whole life - for another, namely Christ. Jesus - God saves - is the King of Martyrs. He lived up to his God-given name. He saved us by dying for us. Jesus himself said “there is no greater love than to lay down your life for your friends” (Cf. Jn 15:13). And while it is easy and of no credit to us to love those love us (Cf. Jn 6:32) it isn’t as easy to die for them whether by the little sacrifices daily life asks of us or the ultimate gift of one’s life.

Jesus, St. Valentine and all martyrs by that or any other name lived up to their name and showed us true love. “For if before men, indeed, they be punished, yet is their hope full of immortality; chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed, because God tried them and found them worthy of himself. As gold in the furnace, he proved them, and as sacrificial offerings he took them to himself.” (Wis 3) “They were found worthy”, that is, they were true Valentines. Jesus, St. Valentine, and all the martyrs give us a model and the gift of true love.

On February 14th I was caught up in gazing at the heart of my claddagh ring which I bought in Claddagh, Ireland, weeks after my ordination to the priesthood. I didn’t want a wedding band but I did want something to reflect my consecration to Jesus and his Church. Reflecting on the heart of the ring with the heart turned inward to show that my heart is spoken for I was reminded that when I made a life-long promise of celibacy I did so because I was invited to do so by a living and personal God. I most certainly did not decide to say yes to celibacy because it’s a requirement of Catholic priests. That wasn’t good enough for me – not even close. (I’m not totally crazy!) I said yes because I wanted more, not less, and I felt called to trust that celibacy would open up a unique door to true love, a personal warm love worthy of giving up a wife and family. This invitation to celibacy didn’t come by way of a sweet heart-shaped candy or a box of chocolates but it truly was and is a call – a vocation. St. Valentine’s Day reminded me that I have a living and true Valentine who is truly worthy of love. And what a promise he has made to me: Jesus said, "Amen, I say to you, [Brendan], there is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands for my sake and for the sake of the gospel who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age… and eternal life in the age to come” Mk 10:28). Celibacy is certainly worth it.

Mass on St. Valentine's Day began like every other Mass: I processed in, approached the altar and…oh yeah, I kiss the altar. This is no mere ritualistic gesture. Before even saying a word the priest begins by kissing the altar. But the kissing is far from over. After reading the Gospel the priest again kisses the book of the Gospels saying inaudibly “May the words of the Gospel wash away our sins”. Why a priest does this would give us hours and hours of material for reflection and prayer. Before receiving Communion we also offer one another the "kiss of peace" which generally means a handshake or hug. Simple though this may be it is an expression of selfless love. Finally, after I gave the final blessing and proclaimed those well known words “Mass has ended, go in peace” a fourth kiss, once again on the altar. After Mass, I took off my stole and kissed the cross embroidered on it. The greatest form of worship and love begins and ends with a kiss. What a great model to follow in our own lives.

Looking for true love? Love Christ. Be a saint.

Your Valentine,

Brendan