Who is my neighbor?

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Gospel: Luke 10:25-37

There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test Jesus and said,
“Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law?
How do you read it?”
He said in reply,
“You shall love the Lord, your God,
with all your heart,
with all your being,
with all your strength,
and with all your mind,
and your neighbor as yourself.”
He replied to him, “You have answered correctly;
do this and you will live.”

But because he wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, 
“And who is my neighbor?”
Jesus replied, 
“A man fell victim to robbers
as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.
They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead.
A priest happened to be going down that road,
but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side.
Likewise a Levite came to the place,
and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side.
But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him
was moved with compassion at the sight.
He approached the victim,
poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them.
Then he lifted him up on his own animal,
took him to an inn, and cared for him.
The next day he took out two silver coins
and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction,
‘Take care of him.
If you spend more than what I have given you,
I shall repay you on my way back.’
Which of these three, in your opinion,
was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?”
He answered, “The one who treated him with mercy.”
Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

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Mother Teresa was once walking along the streets of Calcutta, when suddenly she passed by a homeless man dying on the street.

He smelled sour. Maggots were nibbling at his body.

Naturally, she was repulsed by the sight and smell, so she moved to the other side of the street in order to avoid him and continue going about her day.

Within a matter of seconds, she regretted her instincts as she remembered Christ’s words, “Whatever you do unto the least of my brothers and sisters, you do to me.” 

This man was Jesus in a sour, disfigured disguise.

So, she turned around and knelt next to him. He was so starved that Mother Teresa – a woman barely five feet tall – was able to pick him up and carry him to her home for the dying. 

Upon arriving, that man looked up into her eyes and breathed his last.

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Mother Teresa used this story to remind her sisters – and each of us today – that, at times, Jesus comes to us in “distressing disguise,” much like the man robbed, beaten, and left for dead in today’s Gospel.

Maybe we won’t encounter the Lord in such a radical way. 

But we will encounter him in a distressed colleague; an elderly neighbor; a person who randomly comes to mind as we go about our day.

May we love and serve them, for whatever we do to them, mysteriously, we do to Christ himself.

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Image credits: (1) Vivint (2) Cruxnow.com, Stock Image (3) Pinterest

Simply Good News: The State of Our Parish.

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Gospel: Matthew 21: 33-43

Jesus said to the chief priests and the elders of the people:
“Hear another parable.
There was a landowner who planted a vineyard,
put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower. 
Then he leased it to tenants and went on a journey.
When vintage time drew near,
he sent his servants to the tenants to obtain his produce. 
But the tenants seized the servants and one they beat,
another they killed, and a third they stoned. 
Again he sent other servants, more numerous than the first ones,
but they treated them in the same way. 
Finally, he sent his son to them, thinking,
‘They will respect my son.’
But when the tenants saw the son, they said to one another,
‘This is the heir.
Come, let us kill him and acquire his inheritance.’
They seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. 
What will the owner of the vineyard do to those tenants when he comes?”
They answered him,
“He will put those wretched men to a wretched death
and lease his vineyard to other tenants
who will give him the produce at the proper times.” 
Jesus said to them, “Did you never read in the Scriptures:
The stone that the builders rejected
has become the cornerstone;
by the Lord has this been done,
and it is wonderful in our eyes?

Therefore, I say to you,
the kingdom of God will be taken away from you
and given to a people that will produce its fruit.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

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A woman came into the office this week and asked me, “Father, is it possible to be registered at two different parishes?”

I asked her, “What do you mean?”

She said, “Well, I’m registered at another parish, but I often come here. I like being here. I feel like I belong.”

So, of course, I said, “Absolutely! You, Ma’am, just made my day!”

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That’s the story of Saint Pius X: A parish journey of discovery, return, renewal.

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To document our journey, we’ve started a tradition whereby each year we publish an Annual Report. (This was our first Annual Report from last year). 

It takes the pulse of the parish: How much we have grown. What ministries we offer. How many weddings and baptisms we have celebrated. What our finances are like.

Shortly, we will be publishing our second Annual Report, which will document our journey over the last year, in particular. It’s being dedicated to Linda Spilka, a beloved parishioner and friend, who died from pancreatic cancer just a month ago.

Linda was the head of our Marketing and Communications Ministry. She, along with Rosemarie Loffredo, our Pastoral Council Chair, and Rose Flynn, our Pastoral Council Secretary, worked tirelessly to complete this year’s report.

Would you believe, even a week before she left us, Linda was working on her laptop, adding images, offering edits, imagining its completion?

That’s the type of love and dedication I see unfolding in our parish.

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In today’s Gospel, Jesus gives us a parable about a landowner and his vineyard. 

His words were an immediate rebuke to the religious authorities of Israel, who were given the mission of preparing the way of the Lord. But when Jesus arrived in the flesh, they neither recognized nor worshipped him. 

So, “the kingdom of God will be taken away from you,” he says, “and given to a people that will produce its fruit.” People like you and me.

***

My words this morning have a single purpose: to offer a glimpse into the state of this vineyard. I can say with deep gratitude and confidence, “Yes, we are bearing good fruit.”

In this year’s Annual Report, you’ll see the numbers, the names, and the pictures of many parishioners like you who’ve dedicated their time, treasure, and talent to our parish.

Here are a few vignettes to help tell our story:

St. Pius X is the story of a woman who spent her entire morning meticulously twisting twenty-five napkins into roses for a parish dinner she didn’t even attend. 

It’s the story of a two-year-old who came to an 8 AM Sunday Mass. Afterwards, he wobbled eagerly over to the café only to find not a single cookie, chocolate covered treat, or juice box. The SPX café was closed. (We were preparing for a barbeque after the Color Run.)

Stunned, he had absolute meltdown. Still, I smiled because it reminded me just how much even the little ones look forward to the treats you lovingly bake each week.

St. Pius is the story of Tim and Joyce Papa. Tim has cancer and Joyce has limited mobility. They asked for our help to do simple things around the house. Suddenly, 18 parishioners signed-up. 

Now there are volunteers journeying with them seven days a week, assisting with meals, simple chores, chemo appointments, and a great deal of tender loving care.

St. Pius is the story of 28 parishioners, including a family with two young children, who help to feed the hungry by cooking in our parish soup kitchen on a weekly basis.

It’s the story of Chris Bozzella, a recent college graduate, who stood before us at the 10 am and 12 pm Mass last week, sharing his faith, and inviting us to listen to a mentor of his Jerry Palmieri, who’s giving a talk here on Wednesday evening, “What is a Christian athlete?”

It’s the story of children and adults who sing in our choirs; who bring Communion to the sick and homebound; who teach our faith; who serve on staff; who welcome you by name.

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No wonder our newest parishioner came to the office this week, asking me, “Father, is it possible to be registered in two different parishes?”

Of course. All are welcome here. All are loved.

As our vision statement reminds us, “We are all generations journeying together with Jesus to satisfy our hungry hearts. Come and see!”

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Image credits: (1) (2) New Kensington Catholic Community (3) slide player

What is the hardest thing to master?

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Gospel: Luke 10: 13-16

Jesus said to them,
“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!
For if the mighty deeds done in your midst
had been done in Tyre and Sidon,
they would long ago have repented,
sitting in sackcloth and ashes.
But it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon
at the judgment than for you.
And as for you, Capernaum, ‘Will you be exalted to heaven?
You will go down to the netherworld.’
Whoever listens to you listens to me.
Whoever rejects you rejects me. 
And whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

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The religious practice of living as a monk started in the late 3rd century. Some Christians in Egypt and Syria moved out of the cities, into the desert, dedicating their entire life to prayer. 

Slowly, they started forming small monasteries.

It was a terribly difficult existence. There was no running water, food was scarce, and the monks left nearly all of their possessions behind. On occasion, Christians would journey from large cities to seek the Sacraments or advice from them.

Some of their writings have been compiled into a book called, “The Wisdom of the Desert Fathers.”

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I remember a simple vignette from that book: one monk was complaining to his abbot about another monk. It seems the first believed the second had stolen his pen. 

To us, it seems insignificant. If you lose a pen – or if someone borrows it and fails to give it back – then buy another one.

But the abbot saw deeper into the monk’s heart. He reminded him, “You left almost everything behind in order to live in the desert. It seems the one thing you’ve taken with you is your ego.”

***

Pride can be the hardest thing in life to master. 

Often, doing so isn’t on the top of our list. Things like earning a paycheck, staying committed in a marriage, caring for the kids, or finding rest are.

This is why living a life of solitude can be so difficult. The only thing the monks need to master is themselves. In both the Jewish and Christian faith, the heart is seen as the seat of all intention. As Jesus says, “From the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.”

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Today we celebrate the Feast of Saint Bruno, who carried forward the tradition of the Desert Fathers, founding a religious order in the 11th century known as the Carthusians. They continue to follow the strictest rule of life in the Church, living in near total silence.

Although you and I may not be called to do the same, they remind us that one of the best ways to humble ourselves and to begin mastering the desires of our heart is in silence.

It may be more difficult than it seems. Try it for a few moments each day. Slowly, you’ll see the difference it makes.

Maybe someone stole your pen.

What difference does it make?

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Image credits: (1) (2) (3) Courting the Muses