5 easy ways to evangelize at Christmas eve Mass

Ahh, Christmas eve Mass. The anticipation is over. Mary's "yes" has new significance. Christ is born anew. And our parishes are bursting at the seams with people celebrating the birth of Emmanuel, God with us.

Too bad that, more often than not, we get annoyed at the fact so many people have come to celebrate the significance of this day and worship the Christ child. How dare those CEO Catholics (those who come for Christmas, Easter, and Other special occasions) sit in my regular pew? They took all the good parking spots. And they still say, "And also with you." Stop the insanity! Who let these people in? Does the church not have standards anymore?

Well they are here now, so let's, as a church community, shed the cranky and put our best foot forward to encourage them to make this going to church thing a weekly occurrence. Let's evangelize them.

"Evangelizing means to bring the Good News into every strata of humanity, and through its influence transforming humanity from within and making it new."—Pope Paul VI.

Here are five easy ways you can held transform humanity.

Say "Hi"

Seem obvious? That's because it is. Acknowledge they are there. Make them feel welcome. Would you return to a restaurant that didn't make you feel welcome? How much more significant is this meal around the alter of the Lord?

Help them feel like an insider, not an outsider intruding on you

Yes, it has been a few years since responses and prayers have changed, and ideally, everyone should know them. But instead of rolling your eyes when someone says the wrong thing or accidentally reverts to an old prayer, give them the insider information and make them feel like part of the family. Kindly show them where they can find the right responses. Pass them a prayer card from the pew in front of you. Show them where they can find the proper prayer. Offer them your missal. Want to go that extra mile? Say, "And also with you," on purpose so they don't feel so self-conscious about their mistake.

Embrace the buzz

With that many more people, and kids, there's a bit more—OK a lot more—noise. That's the sound of a vibrant community. That's the sound of your parish's future. Instead of sneering at parents for having normal kids that find it hard to sit still and be perfectly silent for an hour and a half, offer to help. See if little Suzie wants to quietly look at a book with you (of it's OK with mom and dad). Acknowledge them as part of your parish who have gifts to offer. Make sure you offer them a special sign of peace. Smile at mom and dad to let them know having the kids there is a good thing.

Ask them to come back

You have a built-in, even expected thing to say to people as you make eye contact and leave the church. So tack on a little, "Hope to see you Sunday," or "Come again soon," after you say, "Merry Christmas!" End their church experience on a positive note. Let them know this happens every week and that they can usually get a better seat and parking spot.

Keep the cursing out of the parking lot

Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not let the last thing people remember about Mass be someone cutting them off or giving the one-finger salute in the church parking lot. Patience is a virtue. Practice it for a few minutes. Hang out in the church for a while. Take the kids to show them the creche. Sit in your car and pray the rosary while you wait for the lot to clear out a bit. 

Remember: people made an effort to come to church. They are there. They have responded to God's grace. The cooperated with God's divine plan of love. The Holy Spirit is moving. If you're going to gripe about them not fulfilling their Sunday obligation throughout the year instead of welcoming  them back into the Good Shepherd's fold, then at least have the courtesy to get of God's way and let Him do His work. 

Merry Christmas! I hope to see at at Mass.

Advent or Christmas shopping season?

It wasn't totally on purpose. Our motivation was less than holy and altruistic. But it happened all the same. We are, for the most part, done our Christmas shopping. Before December. Pinch me; I think I'm dreaming.

My first thought upon realizing this feat was relief. The thought of not stalking people for a parking spot, hunting for those few precious gifts only to find it's out of stock (or it doesn't qualify for free shipping) almost seems surreal. It almost brings a joyful tear to my eye.

Then, pausing a second to realize Advent starts this Sunday, I discovered another benefit: I get to focus on the season of advent, not the Christmas shopping season. I have the unique opportunity to prepare my heart to celebrate the birth our our Saviour, to pray and reflect what that means for me in the hear and now, to read the Christmas story to to the kids a bit more and help them realize the historical and spiritual significance of Jesus' incarnation and birth, to anticipate His coming again.

I'm not saying I like seeing Christmas stuff in stores in October, but there is something to getting the gift buying out of the way early so we can focus on the point of advent—preparing for the Saviour's coming—instead of fighting crowds, emptying bank accounts and praying the post office gets our gifts to the right place in time.

Maybe next year it won't be by accident.

Lessons from the links

My last round of golf for the season was just a couple weeks ago, and I cleaned up my clubs this weekend.

As I set there scrubbing, I reflected on the season. I golfed more this year than I ever have—which averages one or two rounds a year, so it doesn't take much—and I actually saw some improvement in my game. I still fall in the weekend duffer category, but I'm putting disatnce between Twain and myself, no longer considering the game a good walk spoiled.

My eight year-old son took up the game this year. Perhaps that's another reason I was eager to hit the links, it was really good father-son time.

As I reflected on my game and the season, I couldn't help but remember that a friend and golf partner mentioned how we could all learn a thing or two from my son by observing how he approaches the game.

Usually a pretty even-keeled young lad, my son displayed all the characteristics that I'm sure led to the game being called the gentlemen's game. Here are a few things he taught us on the links this past summer:

Patience

Learning something new, especially a game like golf, takes a long time and a lot of patience. He's OK with the fact he's not going to be Graham DeLeat his first time out. He approaches each round with patience, and shows improvement with each round.

Honesty

No one is counting your score for you or wathcing if you use your leather wedge and kick the ball out of the rough for a better lie. It would be really easy get away with those things when no one is wathcing. Except he knows that God is always watching and that honesty builds character. He acts with integrity on the course.

It's all in the attitude

Wheteher it was not being frustrated when missing the ball, or heeding advice to improve his swing, he had a great attitide and outlook toward the game. He never cursed under his breath, threw his club farther than the ball after a shanked ball or stormed off the green after missing a two foot put. He was out there to have fun with the guys, and he did just that. Which brings us to my final twopoints.

Fun

Games are supposed to be fun, and he reminded us all of that key fact almost every hole.

The value of friendship

He enjoyed hanging out with the boys. He looked forward to having a doghnut and chocolate milk if we went for coffee after an early morning round. He enjoyed remembering that one perfect shot that would make us come back. He reminded us that both fatherhood and friendship are about spending time and building relationships. And that is just what we did.

And, with any luck, we'll continue to that next year when we hit the links.

What I learned from my daughter's run

My oldest daughter is participating in the CIBC Run for the Cure this coming weekend. It's the second time she has chosen to do the charity walk/run raising money for breast cancer research, and I have to say, I'm a very proud father that she has decided to be an active member of our community.

Her aunt, my sister-in-law, is a breast cancer survivor, so there's a personal connection providing some extra motivation. We all know someone, or several people, who have fought the battle. Fortunately, more have won than lost thanks to support of research.

Seeing all the people and hearing the stories is more than a bit inspirational. So, here's a short list of things my daughter has taught me by participating in the run:

Little people can do big things

Being at the event is really moving. Seeing the survivors and the families affected is really emotional. There are teams of people and individuals, all with moving stories of why they are there. But it is the young people, like my daughter, who made an impression on me—little people making a big difference

Making it easy to give makes it, well, easy to give

When I did fundraising for activities, charities or sports teams growing up, it was grunt work—going door-to-door with pledge sheets, raffle tickets, chocolate covered almonds or asking for bottles. The whole idea was to make it easy for people to give. You didn't have to do anything other than open he door, then open our wallet.

Now, a nice easy website lets you tap away on your tablet to support a worthy cause.

Shy people step into the spotlight in their own way

Despite being one of the loudest people on earth, my daughter is quite shy in public. But she puts that aside to support a good cause. She's willing to step out of her comfort zone in her own way. This year, she's even talking about wearing a pink costume of some sort. We'll see if that's just big talk or not.

Personal connections are a key to participation

Would she have participated if her aunt didn't have breast cancer? Maybe. But she didn't hesitate when she made the personal connection with a family member. We're all more likely to do something when we're personally invested.

Children are the present, not the future of our communities

I'm kinda tired of hearing that our young people are our future. I get the concept of that. But they are here today. They are vital members of our communities today. And we should foster their participation, involvement and leadership in our communities today.

In case you missed the subtle link to support the run, here it is again.

There's something to be said for routine

These three words evoke joy, excitement, anticipation and trepidation: back to school.

Yes, it happened this past week. The freedom of running around the neighbourhood with friends all day and staying up late has given way to routine and schedules. Back to bedtimes. Back to waking up on time. Back to making lunches. Back to homework. Back to school.

And it's back to blogging after a little summer hiatus.

We tend to mourn the end of summer. Not just because it's back to school; the days are getting shorter and some people are starting to use the s-word already (that'd be snow, clean up your mind). We seem to mourn the loss of freedom, or at least the perception of the loss of freedom, to some degree.

But there's something to be said for the constraints of routine—specifically the routine of my prayer life.

This summer we went camping for a week. Now, camping is where routine doesn't exist. Camping alters the space-time-continuum. Watches and clocks are rendered useless. You're on camping time.

One of the uniquely shaped twisted trees in the
lodgepole pine forest of Cypress Hills Provincial Park

One of the benefits of camping time is you have no schedules. There is no bedtime because you need to spend a good amount of time by the campfire, and it doesn't get dark until 10:30 or 11 pm. No bedtime means no alarms—except those four tiny human alarms, but even they started sleeping in, respecting the rules of camping time. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are mere guidelines for eating. You kinda feel like a hobbit having second breakfast and other made-up mealtimes just because you can.

Unfortunately, the victim in this timeless universe is my spiritual life. Sure, I go into it with good intentions. Keep, even increase, my regular prayer time. Pray the rosary more. Catch-up on some spiritual reading. Just hang with my buddy Jesus for a while each day. Re-read the summa. After all, I'm on camping time. I can do it all. (OK, I didn't have any intention of re-reading the summa. And "re" may be a little misleading since I haven't read it. Mere symmantics.) But you know what they say about good intentions. No? Look it up.

So the return to routine is often what my spiritual life needs. I set aside the necessary time each (most) morning. Nighttime family prayer returns in full force. I turn to Jesus throughout the day, just knowing He is there loving me, forgiving me, strengthening me.

Oh, how I love camping time. But there's something to be said for routine and a healthy soul.

Heart's Content

It has been a year since my wife and I took our first ever vacation without our children. Not only does the trip's anniversary bring back a flood of memories of St. John's, NL, my wife recently finished a painting of the harbour. We now have a constant reminder of our fantastic trip to the most easterly part of our continent.

Painting of St. John's harbour (copyright, all rights reserved)

As we reminisce, the names of some Newfoundland towns and fishing villages come to mind. I love how things get their names in NL; there's always a story. And if you look past the embellishment of the story teller, they are pretty practical names. St John's is named after St. John the Baptist. Mistaken Point saw lots of shipwrecks because sailors mistook it for the main point around a peninsula, and by the time they realized their mistake it was often too late.

Our drive up one of the many picturesque coastlines of Newfoundland took us through three towns named Heart's Desire, Heart's Delight and Heart's Content. They were quaint little fishing villages along the rugged coast that clearly indicates why the island part of the province is called The Rock

As we drove through these villages, I started thinking that names are more than just cute or quaint, they have a theological meaning. The heart is the symbol of love, and our sojourn through these towns took us on a journey through the stages or distinctions love in Greek—eros, philia and agape.*

First we pass through Heart's Desire. Eros is the passionate or physical love. I think that's usually the first stage of love, an emotional response more than a conscious decision to love the other.

A little farther up the coast we pass through Heart's Delight. Philia is more of a friendly or familial love. Because it requires loyalty and virtue, I place this as a higher form of love than eros. We need to know the beloved before we are able to offer philial love and therefore requires a conscious decision to love the other.

Our journey of love ends with Heart's Content—agape—where we find unconditional love, a more spiritual love. Our hearts' are content; they are no longer restless because they can rest in the infinite and unconditional love of God that St. Paul describes in 1 Cor 13. The will of the lover and beloved are unified, and we can find true peace and contentment.

May our journeys of life always end in Heart's Content.


*I purposely omit storge because of it's application is almost exclusively meant for familial relationships and, well, there are only three towns.

What's in your blind spot?

I didn't plan on writing about about the walk to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35), but it's been niggling at my brain, and there's only one way to get rid of a niggle. Well, there are probably lots of ways. I don't know; I'm not a niggle expert. But I'll write about it to get rid of it.

Don't get me wrong. The story is a powerful one, and it has personal significance because of a retreat I was on years ago. The homily on Sunday was a good one. But I had the attitude, "Oh, this story," and did not really listen intently or meditate on it.

Then came the niggle.

As I thought about it more, I realized the disciples on their way to Emmaus had a spiritual blind spot. There Jesus was, right in front of them, talking to them, explaining how the scriptures were fulfilled in him and his resurrection, but they didn't recognize him.

Blind spots are a fact of our daily lives. I remember discovering my visual blind spot in science class experiment. Thankfully we can move our heads to easily resolve the problem.

We have lots of blind spots when we drive. Again, moving the ol' noggin alleviates the problem. Now we have all sorts of technology to reveal things hidden in our blind spots —back up beepers, back up cameras, blind spot sensors on our side mirrors, back seat drivers, etc.

We all have psychological, emotional and spiritual blind spots. Some we are not aware of. Others we create ourselves to avoid a reality we are not prepared to face.

Just as it took a little help from Jesus for the disciples to recognize him as the risen Christ, we need a little special help to recognize (or face) our own spiritual blind spots. And the help comes from the Holy Spirit, the one Jesus promised he would send when he returned to the Father (cf John 14:26).

We also have been given pillars of our faith to help reveal those things that might otherwise remain hidden: sacred scripture, sacred tradition and the teaching authority of the Church. Guess who ties all those together? The Holy Spirit.

Every week, Jesus reveals himself to us just as he did to the disciples, in the breaking of the bread. Plus we have the other six sacraments where we have a real, personal, physical encounter with God's love and grace. His light reveals things that were previously hidden (cf Mark 4:22).

Holy Spirit, lovingly reveal those things that are hidden in our blind spots so we may know and love you with the Father and Son.

There. Take that you niggle.

What are our spiritual blind spots, and how do you deal with them?

Death and taxes and...

I can't believe I just created a blog title with "taxes" in it. What have I become?

Well, it is that season in North America. Taxes are due at the end of the month, and for my American readers, you're really down to the wire.

The ol' cliche has been running through my mind. A quote attributed to Ben Franklin says, "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." I'm not an historian, so I'm trusting the internet to source this one.

This is not only tax season; it's the season of lent. And our readings at Mass the last few weeks have indicated maybe Ben missed something on his list of certainties. Jesus healing the blind man, His encounter with the woman at the well and especially raising Lazars from the dead point to one core certainty—one we will see even more powerfully in the Triduum—eternal life through Jesus.

"I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die." –John 11:25

So, as Good Friday approaches and we give to Caesar that which is Caesar's (cf Mark 12:17), let's keep in mind there's something more important after that—eternal life with our beloved Saviour.

Have a blessed Holy Week!

Do I have to?

I knew it was going to happen. I did it. My wife did it. I'm pretty sure you did it.

It was only a mater of time before one of our kids uttered the question some innocent Sunday morning. "Do I have to go to church?"

It actually happened some time ago with our oldest, now 11 years old. And yes, I felt like a bit of a failure as a parent. "How could my little baby say such a thing? What have I done to deserve this?" I got over it quickly. But when our four year old muttered the phrase recently, it kinda surprised me. How could she be so weak-willed to bow to the negative peer-pressure of her older sister? Monkey see, monkey do.

It surprised me also because she loves to sing at Mass, and participates well. Usually. Sometimes. Some weeks. She prays the Creed, so I'll take that as a sign that God's grace is at work.

From the first time the dreaded, "Do I have to?" came from the mouths of our children, I have deflected the complaint instead of meeting the conflict head on. I use language like, "We get to go to Church," instead of we have to go. It helps avoid much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Some of the sarcasm is lost on little ones, but I'll groan, "Oh no. The Creator of Universe loves me so much He died for me, and I have to spend an hour accepting His love and say, 'Thanks Jesus. Love ya too,' in my own wounded way." Then the eyes roll, so I know it hit home with the eldest.

Our Sunday obligation is too often misunderstood. We tend to see it as a rule we can rebel against. But really, it's a privilege that, as St. Paul expressed, is so tremendous our hearts, minds, souls—our very beings—compel us to act in some way (cf. 2 Cor 5:14). If we don't express our love and celebrate the day of the resurrection, something inside us will burst. If we don't celebrate the joy of the Spirit, the rocks will cry out on our behalf (cf. Luke 19:40).

I'm pretty sure it wasn't some rule that compelled the disciples to go back out preaching Jesus raised from the dead after getting beaten and thrown into prison, multiple times (cf almost all of the Acts of the Apostles).

I'm pretty sure the conversation did not go like this:

Thomas: Hey guys. This whole getting beaten thing sucks. Why don't we just call it quits. Jesus would never know.
James: And the prison food is not even close to Mom's cooking.
John: Maybe we can just say that Jesus was a really good guy. Maybe even a prophet.
Matthew: Yeah, people would buy that. At least it would be less painful for us.
Peter: But Jesus said we have have to. Ugh. So, I guess we have to. At least once a week for an hour.
Andrew: But I have to park my camel so far away, it's just horrible.

It's not fear or some sense of following rules that gets us to Mass on Sunday. It is (or at least should be) our love of Christ and our desire to grow in holiness, to grow closer to Him, to be with Him for eternity.

How are you, as a parent, modeling your Sunday obligation? Do you see it as a chore and find yourself thinking, "Move it along padre, the game starts in 10." Or do you present it as a joyful celebration in which we get to participate. Remember, your children are likely to follow your lead. Choose wisely. Act accordingly.

Lenten triple threat

Every young basketball player is taught the triple threat position—an offensive position in which you are prepared to do one of three things: pass, dribble/drive or shoot. It gives you and your team the best chance to score a basket.

I'm not sure if other sports use the same terminology, but the same principle applies for several team sports like hockey, soccer, lacrosse, etc. My soccer-playing son is learning he can no longer kick the ball and outrun everyone else to the other end and score. It's a lot easier to score when your team has the ball. And the best way to make that happen is to always be ready to dribble, pass or shoot, depending on the situation.

Lent is fast approaching, and it's time to think about or lenten triple threat: prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

With the end goal of growing in holiness in mind (and ultimately Heaven), our lenten triple threat will help us get ready to celebrate the resurrection at Easter.

Prayer focuses our minds and hearts on God. It helps us realize we are part of a team (a.k.a. the communion of saints), and listening to our coach and supporting that team is how we can all grow in holiness, both indivudually and together.

Fasting helps us realize there are more important things (or a more important person) then our earthly possessions. A little sacrifice goes a long way in helping us understand the difference between wants and needs. We need sustenance. We want over-indulgance. We need God. We want a lot of other things, toys and electronic gadgets. Learning a little discipline, self-control and sacrifice (with the help of a little thing called grace) helps us appreciate the difference and put things in perspective.

Almsgiving helps us just as much as it helps other. We realize our interdependence as a community—we rely on God, others rely on us and we rely on others. We all must play our part responsibly in our interconnected web if we are to achieve our goal of holiness.

One great thing that makes our lenten triple threat better than any sports triple threat is the fact we aren't limited to one option at any given time. We can, and should, practice all three together.

What spiritual practices are part of your lenten triple threat this year?

Not-so-ordinary time

Green is the colour
Ordinary time is is the game
We're all together
And praying is our aim

For those of you familiar with the tune for which I changed the lyrics, you're most welcome for getting that stuck in your head until lent. For those of you not familiar with the song, take a listen. You're welcome too.

The Catholic Church's liturgical year is officially in ordinary time. It's time to get out the green. A parish priest once stated that green is appropriate for ordinary time because in nature, green represents growth. Springtime comes, everything turns green, grows and flourishes. So too should our faith—minus the turning green part.

Ordinary time is when we follow the progression of Jesus's ministry toward its ultimate goal of the resurrection. We get a glimpse, through the Gospel writers, into the ordinary, everyday life of Jesus, his followers and his ministry.

Hold it a minute. Jesus and ordinary don't really fit. I don't know about your life, but miraculous healings, turning water into wine, preaching to crowds numbering in the thousands that just won't leave you alone, feeding said thousands with a paltry snack, raising people from the dead, and walking on water are not ordinary occurrences in my neck of the woods. Well, maybe the walking on water part is, but there is two feet of ice on top of the water when we do it.

These are pretty extraordinary things, performed by an extraordinary person. And the beauty of the incarnation is that these incredibly extraordinary things have become our shared reality. Not only that, we are called to live the extraordinary through the gift of the Holy Spirit. Not only that, we are called adopted sons and daughters of God through Christ (cf Rom 8:14). Extraordinary!

Ordinary time isn't just filler between Christmas and Lent, or Easter and Advent. It's a time for us to answer what Blessed Pope John Paul II called our universal call to holiness. It's a time to use the ordinary events of life as chances to grow in our faith. It's a time to turn ordinary circumstances into extraordinary opportunities for holiness and service.

As Catholics, there's not much ordinary about ordinary time.

Restless

I'm feeling a little restless. OK, a lot restless. OK, a little stir-crazy.

The temperature this morning was -45C with the windchill (someone at work said that we were colder than Mars). This is after a December that saw an average temperature of -20C. At these extreme temperatures I don't leave the house more than I have to. I recognize writing this perpetuates every stereotype about the frigid Great White North, but it's not usually this cold for this long. Sure, we can brag, "That's what makes us prairie folk tough." But who really wants to be able to brag about freezing your extremities in nanoseconds?

The cold weather is keeping the kids inside too. Have I ever mentioned our kids are loud? I know, all kids are loud. I'm talking born without a volume control permanently stuck on 10 louder than a 747 and Pearl Jam concert in a gymnasium kinda loud. Oh, how I long for the children to play outside!

We affectionately call this restless feeling cabin fever, and it usually hits in February or March, near the end of a long winter. Being cooped-up so long so early has me feeling restless—I want to get out and enjoy the snow, go skating, point the toboggan downhill and go for a ride, even just go for a walk down by the river.

We know there are links to cabin fever, or seasonal affective disorder, and vitamin D. For some reason, our body cannot absorb enough vitamin D from the sun through 17 layers of thermal polyester, wool and Gore-Tex. Light therapy can also help clear up those winter blues. There are special lights—I swear I am not making this up—that can help just by spending time each day in front of them.

My restlessness has St. Augustine's famous quote, "Our hearts are restless until they rest in you," running through my mind. As I endure my physical restlessness, I ponder my soul's restlessness too.

The first thing that comes to mind is a question: is my soul restless for God? If it's not, that might indicate a problem, possibly spiritual aridity or worse, indifference. If it is, that is a good thing. Just like my cabin fever indicates I long for some outdoor activity in my life, my spiritual restlessness indicates I need some more spiritual activity in my life. It lets me know I need more God, more of His love, more of His grace, more of His mercy and forgiveness in my life. It reminds me I must continuously strive for holiness.

Just like the right nutrients, like vitamin D, can help seasonal restlessness, the right nutrients, like Jesus in the sacraments—especially Eucharist—go a long way to eliminate the spiritual blues.

Just like spending time in front of a special light can help alleviate symptoms, spending time basking in the light of Christ (aka prayer) can lift one's spirits and strengthen one's resolve.

Even though I may not be able to feed my physical restlessness with some outdoor activity longer than a 15 second dash to the car, I know I can take care of my spiritual restlessness by spending some time feeding my relationship with God.

May our souls find rest in Him!