a bigger family

soccer game in our backyard when it all hit me

Dear Family and Friends,

The other day I was playing soccer in our backyard with a group of boys. We were having a send-off party for a good friend, Father Timothy Walsh, who is heading on to a new assignment. I worked closely with him over the last year, and he has been a godsend of a mentor in more ways than one for this baby priest.

There were over a hundred people there in our backyard – quite the crowd!

Moments earlier, I had pulled out the soccer ball, and little by little it drew the boys in like a magnet. Before long we must have had a 10 on 10 game. Lots of fun, needless to say. After tiring myself out, I had taken the place of the goalie, and was watching the game. The boys ranged from 3-year-olds all the way through a few high school freshmen. Most of the little ones hadn’t really passed the “mob-ball” stage yet. They spent the game stealing the ball from their teammates and trying desperately to score. It was a lot of fun watching them, really.

Earlier that day, I had been thinking about one of the hard parts of being a priest. You take a vow of celibacy, and so you don’t get married. No wife. No kids. It was something I had to think long and hard about before I took that vow. Because, personally, I’d love to be married. I’d love to have a family. I know it wouldn’t be all fun and games – one sitting in the confessional makes that clear very quickly – but I do know that it would be very fulfilling, that it would fill a hole in my heart.

But I took the vow. And I became a priest. And I didn’t do that out of masochism, or a spirit of penance, or hoping that the rules would change. I did it because I believe God called me to be a priest. I did it because I believe that there is more to fatherhood than physical fatherhood alone. But there’s always been plenty of mystery to all this.

As I stood there in the goal, watching the boys play, God gave me a little more clarity. Simply put, I realized that these were my children. My family. My spiritual family. My spiritual children. And these were only a part. There are more than just the hundred that were there. Many of them go to the school where I’m chaplain and they call me father. Others I meet in my travels. Others I serve on retreats and summer camps.

If I were to have my own family - a physical one – I’d have as many children as God would give us (I always wanted to have lots!). Nine, maybe, like my mom and dad had, if I was lucky, But not a hundred! And the kids I was playing soccer with are wonderful kids, from wonderful, faith-filled families. I would do my best at parenting, but I doubt if any of my kids would turn out as good as these.

Get it? If I were physical father to some, then I couldn’t be spiritual father to all. After taking a vow of celibacy, God has given me more children, and better children, than I could ever have otherwise. It seems so contradictory, and you certainly don’t see it that way when you’re contemplating never walking down the aisle with Miss Right at your side.

Sure, my desire was, and is, to be married. But there is a greater reality. That hole in my heart is still there, but, to my surprise, there is One who fills it in a marvelous way.

It all doesn’t make sense at first glance, or even at the ten-thousandth glance… but for God it makes sense. And sooner or later, often little by little, God lets us see things His way. He gives us glimmers and moments of clarity that help us keep going.

Please pray for all priests, that we may be faithful to our vows, and that we make seek our wholeness from the only One who can truly give it – God Himself. His is the everlasting Romance.

May He bless you and your families,
Father Kevin

Carmel

Entrance to the Carmelite monastery of Piacenza, Italy. The plaque reads: "God gives His whole self to those who leave everything out of love for Him"

Dear Family and Friends,

A few years back I was traveling around northern Italy with another seminarian and we stopped to visit the Carmelite nuns in the town of Piacenza. They have a rather small and simple convent in the farmland outside town. At the time, Pope Benedict was in Brazil, taking part in World Youth Day.

Twelve or thirteen of the sisters welcomed us and we exchanged stories. I told the sisters about life in the seminary, studies, living in Rome near the Pope, and our recent vacation time. Then Mother Superior spoke about how the sisters had gone on “vacation”.

These were cloistered sisters – the ones who never leave the convent – so I raised my eyes at that. She went on to explain. That afternoon, all of the sisters had gotten together in the courtyard of the convent. One of them, an artist, had drawn a huge picture of Pope Benedict in his airplane. Then they all sat in chairs and pretended to fly with him to Brazil for World Youth Day. They sang songs and a few of the sisters pretended they were stewardesses. They also prayed the rosary with the pope en route. During their explanation, the sisters were laughing and giggling as if they had just gotten back from Disneyland.

At this point, both of us seminarians had our mouths hanging open. The sisters were so joy-filled and happy as they explained the whole thing to us. And their “vacation” must have lasted no more than an hour. Wow!

We listened, breathlessly, as another sister chimed in: “Oh yes, and we had a special surprise. The family of one of the sisters gave us all ice cream!”

I was speechless. To be honest, only a little while back I had been complaining about how I didn’t like the place where my seminary went on vacation. Hearing the sisters talk about theirs with such simple delight sure nipped that in the bud!

It was a tremendous testimony to how simple things can bring such tremendous joy. I’d be willing to bet that the sisters' afternoon “vacation” was a hundred times more enjoyable than the vacations many people have at five-star resorts.

As you start or finish your vacation this summer – or even just wish you had one! – take a moment to thank God for the simple things, the simple joys he gives you. Life is full of them. Be content with them. Joy is something you can’t buy. You find it in places that aren’t advertised on travel websites.

Today is the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Mary is the perfect example of someone who had nothing, but really had everything –“My soul magnifies the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior”.

May she watch over you all this summer,
Father Kevin LC

PS I just finished helping out at my third summer camp. Here’s a video I made for the last one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=emO3xGQeugE . They were lots of fun, but I am still pretty tired. Thanks be to God, we had no broken bones and no lost children. Now it’s on to preparing for the new school year!

heaven

the cathedral of Orvieto

Dear Family and Friends,

Today is the feast of Corpus Christi, the body and blood of Christ. Reminds me of the time…

the miraculous corporal of Orvieto

It was Corpus Christi in 2010. I was in Orvieto, a small hilltop town in the Umbria region of Italy. Orvieto is famous for its white wine and more famous for a relic of a Eucharistic miracle. During the middle ages a priest doubted the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist as he was celebrating mass, and the host started to bleed. The blood fell onto a large white cloth, called a “corporal”. This cloth is venerated in Orvieto, and the townspeople actually built a whole Cathedral to hold it. Every year on the feast of Corpus Christi, there is a really special mass, and then there’s a several-mile-long procession around the town with the miraculous piece of cloth.

processing through the streets of Orvieto

I went with a bunch of my seminarian friends for the mass and procession. The mass itself was about two hours long, plus we waited in the Church for about an hour afterwards as the procession formed. So when we finally started walking, we were really tired, to say the least.

procession begins with citizens in medieval garb

And it was a typical Italian day: hot and sunny. At first everything went fine. We were in the back of the procession just in front of the miraculous cloth, which was carried by four big strong guys in a huge gold holder. But after a mile or so of trudging along cobblestone streets, the heat and the sun started to get to me. I was thirsty and tired, and getting burnt. The beautiful procession was turning – at least for me – into an inferno.

with some friends after the procession

And then it happened. It was only a moment, but what a glimpse of paradise I had! It was on one of the back streets of the town, just by a cliff. The brown stone houses had blended together in my mind into one drab row of baking rock. When all of a sudden I felt a cool breeze blowing on my left cheek. It was so refreshing. I turned and caught a view of heaven. I was looking into a small Church. Candles lit the walls, and candles in the shape of a huge heart were spread across the floor. Up by the altar were arrayed row upon row of sisters – poor clare sisters I think– the kind who stay cloistered all the time and only come out for the Corpus Christi procession. They were singing some angelic hymn, and the whole Church was resonating like some gigantic speaker with their beautiful song. Strewn around them and across the floor and around the heart shaped candles were rose petals – thousands of them.

It was but a moment, but one beautiful, glorious moment. And then it was gone. We kept walking, the drab brown stone reappeared, the heat and the sun beat down upon us again, and the procession continued.

And I had seen what heaven must be like.

This earth is a valley of tears. Blood, sweat, mud, muck, sorrow, and tears. Yes, there are beautiful moments, but nothing compares to what will come hereafter. So often we live for what we find here below – money, possessions, pleasure, power, honor, glory… and those things never fill us up. They leave us empty.

We were made for heaven. And anything short of heaven will not fill us. We will never find true happiness here below. Our life here, and all the tough moments it is made of, only makes sense as a preparation for heaven. Heaven, which isn’t some sort of dry, dull, endless sitting around. No! Heaven is life like it should be, life with no end, romance with no limits, beauty with no boundaries. Fullness. Completeness. True happiness and peace. I had a little taste of it there in Orvieto, and I'd be willing to bet many of you have had similar experiences.

It's been six months now – half a year! – that I've been a priest, and one of the most wonderful parts is being able to be so close to the Eucharist. Being a priest doesn’t make you any holier than anyone else nor does it make it easier for you to get to heaven. But so often you are closer to the One who is in heaven, who will bring us there, the One who is truly present in the bread and wine. What a gift!

You will all be in my prayers today,

Father Kevin

Thank you God!

Dear Family and Friends,

 

It’s 10:30pm and I’m about to hit the hay. Just thinking back over today, I get this feeling that my life is enchanted or something…

before the swamp run

Maybe it was running across the soccer field for the umpteenth time, sun shining, wind blowing. Maybe it was leading a group of 20 summer camp boys on our annual “Swamp Run”, a half mile race through mud and muck and swampgrass. Maybe it was sliding down the gigantic slip ‘n slide afterwards and watching the boys enjoy themselves.

giant slip 'n slide

Maybe it was accompanying one of the boys, who has cerebral palsy, as he discovered the bad guys’ ammunition dump(complete with sleeping soldiers!) during a scavenger hunt. Maybe it was helping defuse a (make believe) hostage situation during that same hunt. Maybe it was celebrating mass together this morning with five of my brother priests in honor of a special day in the life of my religious congregation. Maybe it was telling the boys a nighttime story about one of my favorite heroes, Blessed José, as they drifted off to sleep. Maybe it was just watching the wonder of boys as they spent hours shooting each other with dollar-store water guns.

mass this morning

I'm more tired than I thought humanly possible. I've got more bruises on my body than I can count. But I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. It’s not the life of your average priest, I suppose, but sometimes, I wonder if I’ll wake up and realize it’s all been a dream. But it’s not. Thank you God!

after the swamp run

May he bless you!

Father Kevin

pope francis speaks to the parish priests of Rome

Back in March Pope Francis spoke to the parish priests of Rome about mercy and what it means to be a shepherd of souls. I've been wanting to do a simultaneous translation, here it is. I think it's a must-watch for any priest!

a humbling line of work

Dear Family and Friends,

Being a priest you receive so many gifts – spiritual ones.

 

the chapel at school

I spend a lot of time in the chapel at school. The other day I was there praying when one of the teachers brought the preschool children in. They made their way up to the front where she pointed out the tabernacle. “Jesus is in there,” she told them.

“Is that really Jesus?” one of the children piped up. The teacher nodded. “Is he gonna come out?” asked another.

 

children praying at school

Simple questions. But profound. Aren’t those the questions and the desires of every heart? I feel blessed to witness them!

Then there’s confession. For all my life I knelt on one side of the screen. Now I continue to go myself, but I spend a lot of time on the other side.

When I was the one naming my sins and asking forgiveness, I always assumed the priest was thinking to himself, “What a wretch!” Now that I’m hearing confessions, I’m always thinking to myself, “Wow, what humility!”

What humility – that someone would reveal their failings to a mere man, trusting that through him God will grant His forgiveness. What humility – that a person will kneel and place themselves and all their weakness in God’s hands, by means of a weak instrument.

Being witness to the faith of children and the humility of souls are some of the things I’m thankful for as a priest.

God bless you!

Father Kevin 

losing my voice

Giving Eucharistic Benediction on Easter Sunday

Dear Family and Friends,

I lost my voice while hearing confessions on Good Friday. I can’t sing, I can speak, I can kind of croak.

Playing soccer the other day, I couldn’t shout to ask for a pass. Celebrating mass with other priests on Easter, I couldn’t speak in more than a whisper. At lunch and dinner, I couldn’t make any witty comments. That’s tough!

But amazingly enough, this has been a huge eye-opener for me. I never realized how much I like to speak, and how often my comments are unnecessary! The soccer game was fine without my shouts and jokes. The mass was just as valid in a whisper as with a full voice. Lunch and dinner went fine (if not better!) without my witty comments!

We love to use our tongues, we feel at a loss without them. But we need to ask ourselves, above all, if we’re using our tongues to the glory of God. And many times, silence is so much better than speaking!

Happy Easter!

Father Kevin