'House' for Sale

I don't have a T.V. show that I watch regularly. This is due to the fact that my schedule is different each night, I'm too lazy to put a cassette tape in the VCR and suffer through the humiliation and frustration of trying to find out how to record and, finally, because there is not much on TV anyway.

I recently was surprised that I had a night free and made a trip to Blockbuster to find what many find there - nothing. Out of desperation and trying to find a way to salvage the 5 minute mission to Blockbuster I ran across DVDs for various television shows. I saw House, MD, a show I had seen a few times and liked a lot. I rented the DVD that contained about 5 episodes.

Dr. House is a physician who is well known as one of the best diagnostic doctors. Don't know what's wrong with someone? Send them to Dr. House but beware. Dr. House is equally known for his incredible and unforgiving sarcasm - enormously comical if you are watching it on TV, destructive if you are on the receiving end.

I thoroughly enjoyed the first two episodes which I watched back to back. Because it is commercial-free one episode lasts 42 minutes instead of 60. I found myself during the day wanting to watch the remaining three episodes ASAP. I finished them the following day. There was one episode that involved a case of euthanasia. Dr. House's sarcasm made it impossible to know how he really felt about it. In the end the patient was euthanized but no one knew for sure who did it, however all evidence pointed to someone on House's staff of three doctors. The episode ended with House approaching one of his doctors who was in the chapel crying the next morning. He put his hand on her shoulder and said "I'm proud of you". Did the show I was enjoying just endorse euthanasia? Well, I told myself, it was ambiguous and it was just an episode.

I soon rented two more videos which contained the last 10 episodes of the season. Vacation was quickly approaching, I had got sucked into the series, and had the time to watch them.

Over the course of two weeks I watched the whole series, about 15 episodes and I learned a valuable lesson from this rare experience. Too much of anything too soon was not good for me. The sarcasm, once funny, was annoying and even depressing. I discovered that although I was only a viewer I felt like I was also on the receiving end of the sarcasm. There was another episode where House told a patient exactly how to kill himself while not damaging his organs so that he could donate his heart to his son. What was once funny and entertaining had irritated me and I found myself feeling a little mad that a series I was enjoying had left me warn out and worn down by its constant degrading sarcasm and a culture of death that often peaked its ugly head under the mask of humor and compassion.

I know its a show and not reality but its effect on me was undeniably real and even physical. I could feel it. Something fictional that I had watched had a nonfictional effect that was not pleasant. Too much House too soon was a bad thing! Too much of anything is a bad thing. Balance is so important, much like a diet.

However, having seen one full season in its entirety without much interruption I wonder if the problem wasn't just too much too soon but the show itself. Was the show OK in small doses or was it a bad show -one that leads us away from God- that in small doses simply doesn't show its negative side effects? I don't know. On a moral level we would never knowingly do something wrong and try to justify by saying that it would be OK so long as we only did it a little or did something good later to "balance it out". It doesn't work that way.

When we watch one show once a week for 15 weeks or so we don't know where the show is going. That would be boring. We wonder what's going to happen next and that wonder tempts us to tune in the next week. We also don't get the 'big picture' by watching week to week; rather, it unfolds with the season. Also, anything we watch on T.V is often balanced with other entertainment - sports, books, etc...- and so its effects aren't usually felt too strongly. I experienced a full season of House, M.D. almost interrupted; I saw the big picture, and while it was attractive in small pieces its was ugle when I sttod back and looked at it in its entirety. Like going to an art museum I think the only way you can really see a painting is by standing back a little to allow the eyes to capture whole picute. If you stand to close you see paint not a picture. House was full of great paint but the picture was disformed.

Where does this show fit in? I don't know.

Will I watch House, M.D. again? I don't know. For now, I've overdosed. I doubt I'll ever watch a full season of any T.V. series so quickly again.

If the old saying "an apple a day keeps the doctor away" were true my mouth would be full of them (green ones). Perhaps the annual doctor visit is not a bad idea after all.

"My house shall be called a house of prayer" - Isaiah 56:7

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the holy Spirit within you"
- 1 Cor 6:19

What? I'm Catholic!!!

God continues to teach us through our young ones.

Last week my 8 year-old nephew/godson Patrick was in a community pool with his grandma practicing his newly acquired swimming skills. As he practiced his kicking in the water the boy next to him became annoyed, perhaps a bit scared, and said to Patrick "move over you're going to hurt me". Patrick was horrified by the accusation and without thought or hesitation responded "what? I'm Catholic".

Can you imagine that scene?

If only our faith was so deep? That being both a Christian and hurting someone would seem equally ridiculous and unimaginable to us! Its obvious Patrick's response was not something taught, memorized and repeated but came from a faith that is both child-like and incredibly mature.

I'm going to pray tonight that I might grow up to be as Catholic as Patrick is.

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?