Paul Martin

As I was walking to my car, parked on a side street in a small town on Long Island, my nephew ran excitedly alongside me. When we arrived at the car, parked a block or so away from the apartment of my brother and sister-in-law, I asked my nephew, “Chris, do you want to drive?” This handsome child stopped in his tracks and looked at me seriously as he said, “I can’t drive, I am only five years old!” That scene took place a long time ago and I recall it fondly as a wonderful example of maturity. Maturity is nothing more than knowing who you are and accepting that truth.

It sounds so simple, yet for so many of us we are unsure about ourselves and often unaccepting of the person we believe we might be. What does it take to move us from doubt, uncertainty, and the insecurity of our own sense of self to a place of acceptance and peace? I am not sure if there is a magic formula but I am sure that the journey is a long and complicated one.

We are social beings. We define ourselves in relationships with others; how another speaks to us, sees us, cares for us, accepts us, and more are all fundamental in how we come to see our very selves. For example, there are numerous stories and studies of how a child performs in school to meet the expectation of the teacher. If a teacher, for whatever reason, has decided the child is slow and not too bright – too often the child’s performance is just that. The opposite applies equally. I recall having a slow start in college and in my sophomore year, turning in a sociology paper to my professor. Later, the professor called me to his office, held out the paper to me and said, “Ronan, you can do beer than this – here, do it.” I walked out of that office fuming . . . and then went and wrote a better paper.

Research is stunning about the low image teenagers have of their bodies. Both boys and girls in amazing numbers think they are not handsome or pretty. In fact, most people do not even have a clear sense of acceptance of their own body until they are in their 20’s. Whether it is one’s body, personality, aptitude or overall general appearance, how we get to a healthy place of self acceptance is a challenge.

For the Christian, however, there is another essential part of the journey. We celebrate that we are God’s creation, made in the image and likeness of God. Furthermore, we celebrate that God loves us unequivocally and constantly. Our relationship with Jesus as friend is for many of us a deep source of strength and a fundamental aspect of our maturity. By that I mean, as I recognize myself as a man, with all kinds of strengths and weakness, hopes and dreams, failures and embarrassments, I also know that I am loved by God.

The life and teaching of Jesus continually has taught that God’s love is neither dependent on my level of perfection nor impeded by my imperfections. God loves us because God is God and God is love. For young and old and everyone in between, maturity is saying “yes” to who and what I am and knowing that each of us is a work in progress. God is not yet finished with us – we are on that journey and maturity does not mean that our work is finished or we are perfected – it simply means accepting where I am today – and knowing that place is fine with God.

– Fr. Ronan

October 20 ~
Twenty-ninth Sunday Ordinary Time

“Remain faithful to what you have learned and believed. . . proclaim the word; be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient”. Paul makes it very clear that the scriptures we hear are God’s inspired word for us. Therefore, when we pray with the Scriptures, we can be confident that God shows us where and with whom we are to “proclaim the word.”
So as the familiar hymn proclaims,
“Take the word of God with you as you go.
Take the seeds of God’s word and let them grow.

Walking through the barrios of Guayaquil, Ecuador one of
the first impressions one has is the number of dogs that are
everywhere. My old uncle had a saying, “You could always
tell a poor man – because he has a dog; you can always tell a very poor man, because he has two dogs!” Even when there is limited food for everyone in the family – the dog is in the midst of the family and receives a little of whatever there is. Of course here in Charlestown the whole dog thing is huge – and I confess that I add to the affection folks have with dogs with my own Labrador, Lily.

Yet, I find it troubling that the emphasis we place on our pets seems more
than our concern for people, especially people in need. When a person is found to be abusing an animal, that story might make headlines, especially if the person is some sort of a celebrity. On the other hand, when a person is found to be abusing another person, it is not such a big deal. But it is a big deal.

Naturally, human relationships are more complex than our relationships with our pets. Intimate relationships between friends and spouses are especially complex. When all is healthy, people understand the need of each other to express self in open and honest ways grounded in genuine love and care for the other. Yet all too often all is not healthy and one person in a relationship seeks to control the other by the use of physical, emotional, verbal, financial and/or sexual abuse. When this happens, it is called domestic violence.

The best definition of violence I have ever heard is: “Anything done or not done that diminishes the dignity of another”. When you think about that – all of us have been violent and been victims of violence. Yet domestic violence is the systematic use of violence to gain and maintain control over another. Perhaps the first response to this definition is to think I am speaking about something that is uncommon and certainly not in the neighborhood where I live. Sadly that is untrue.

Domestic violence affects anyone regardless of age, gender, identity, sexual
orientation, race, country of origin, ethnicity, culture, ancestry, socioeconomic status, religion, etc. It is estimated that 85% of domestic violence victims are women costing our country $5.8 billion each year. Recent statistics in the United States report nearly one in four women experience violence by a current or former spouse or boyfriend at some point in her life. The picture is clear – Domestic Violence is a huge issue and needs to be brought out of the closet and into the light.

The more our community is aware of these realities the safer all persons in
our community will be. And while the men and women impacted are many, it is the children who are in families where there is violence who are profoundly impacted and often emotionally crippled in their own development. So what do we do? October is DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AWARENESS MONTH. Look around. Learn about resources that are here in Charlestown and in our city that can help someone in an abusive relationship. Talk with a member of the local clergy, speak with a close friend. Often speaking about one’s suffering can be the first step toward receiving help – for everyone concerned.

In God’s eyes, each of us is precious, each life is to be respected, and no person, ever in any way shape or form, has the right to abuse another. When this happens, both the person abused and the abuser need help and need to find healing and support.

Fr. Ronan

HarborCOV 24-hour Hotline 617.884.9909 (Crisis Only)
P.O. Box 505754, Chelsea, MA 02150
Business Phone 617.884.9799

Twenty-eight Sunday
Ordinary Time
October 12/13, 2019

In today’s Gospel, we hear of the ten men afflicted with leprosy, and the one who glorifies God for being healed. It is a dramatic scene of gratitude. But in order for the miracle to happen in the first place, these men had to start walking in faith before their diseased conditions change one tiny bit. Good stewards of their faith realize that they cannot wait until their problems are over to start walking in faith. They praise God even in the darkest of nights, and in the worst of circumstances.
Do we walk in faith, offering the Lord our gratitude even when we are in difficult circumstances?

Almost 40 years ago, Rabbi Harold Kushner published a book with a captivating title: “When Bad Things Happen to Good People?” Everyone can relate to that question that has become part of common parlance. Rabbi Kushner wrote his reflection, almost as a meditation, after his young son was diagnosed with a fatal disease. Like millions of others, I read his book and it contains a wisdom and a compassion that has been a source of solace for many over these years. The question is, in fact, haunting and one that as a parish priest I have heard all too many times. Doubtless, you, too, have posed the question in one way or another.

It seems to me that one of the first responses many of us has when something bad happens is, “What did I do to deserve this?” Somehow, we want to connect our behavior with what happens to us; and often that is the case, but not always. In fact, the very nature of the question rather implies that bad things should happen to bad people and good things to good people. When we cannot find the “bad” we have done that seems to merit the suffering, many feel a sense of unfairness and anger toward someone, often God. Of course, we always want someone to blame for our suffering.

Yet, each of us knows that life is not fair and suffering is a part of life. Your mother suffered to give you birth; your father suffered to care for you and both parents suffered to raise you. The beginning of suffering is in the very nature of our broken human condition. A Christian traces this brokenness to The Garden and original sin. That original sin was placing human interest and will over God’s and ever since, we struggle with the consequences of that choice.

As I consider my own journey, now in its 74th year, it seems to me that we spend our entire life learning to let go. This begins when we have to let go of the safety and comfort of our mother’s womb and the “letting go” of our self-interest and selfishness continues from infancy into childhood through adulthood and finally arriving at our senior years. All along the way, we have to learn to “let go” and that is hard and often painful. The process means we live into the truth of our mortality; life is oh so brief and our destiny is not to be found here on earth.

For me this “letting go” about which I speak frees me to find and embrace what gives my life meaning and direction – a relationship with God. There is nothing more meaningful, more fulfilling and more capable to make whole my broken human condition. For this relationship brings me to Christ, the source of all that is Love. Living in a relationship with Christ leads me to others offering the hope and joy, the suffering and sorrow we know together. In the gift of these relationships of family, friendship and community, we find the authentic experience of love, learning to let go and to embrace – almost in practice for our final letting go and embrace.

Fr. Ronan

Twenty-sixth Sunday – Ordinary Time September 28/29, 2019

In today’s Gospel Jesus offers a warning about living selfishly in his parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus. The Rich Man holds sumptuous feasts and dresses in fine clothes. But despite his affluence he does nothing to relieve the painful hunger and debilitating condition of his neighbor Lazarus.
He neglects to love his neighbor as he loves himself and is sent to hell for his lifestyle and desire for self-gratification.
The Rich Man represents those who spend their money on their own personal pleasures with no regard for sharing their material possessions with the poor and needy in their own neighborhood.
Good stewards realize the practical implications of not only loving God, but loving their neighbor as they would love themselves.
Who are the less fortunate in our neighborhood?
Do we share a portion of our own blessings with them?

We walked along the sidewalk and there were flower gardens, lawn, shrubs and trees all along the way. He was holding my hand – it was a stretch for both of us for he was only 2 years old. The weather was warm and lovely, typical for springtime in Virginia, and there were ants and various bugs crawling everywhere celebrating the rites of spring. My nephew caught sight of these critters and nothing would do but he had to let go of my hand and crawl along following a busy colony of something. He was lost in amazement, completely outside of himself in wonder as he crawled through puddles and over rock in pursuit of the mystery of this life.

I have always held that memory as a classic understanding of what it means to wonder. Wonder is very different than thinking about, analyzing, processing, discussing and debating, working through and a dozen other ways in which most adults stand in front of daily reality. With a “hands-on-hip get the job done” attitude none of us seem to have much time for … wondering. In fact wondering is likely considered a waste of time in many circles and that’s a shame.

Abraham Heschel, the late and brilliant Jewish theologian and philosopher, wrote a lot about wonder. I like these words: “The beginning of our happiness lies in the understanding that life without wonder is not worth living.” To me the issue relates to how one stands in the world in front of the mystery and beauty of creation and all life. Not to wonder seems to leave two options: dismiss the great mysteries of life or believe everything can be understood and figured out. The latter opens one to unsustainable arrogance and failure and the former seems nothing short of foolish.

It is only our capacity for wonder that opens us to the transcendent and the mystery that is life and the universe. In one of his writings, Heschel says that the person who never wonders cannot find God. Is it possible that our present time of efficiency, productivity, and astonishing advances in so many levels have come at a price? The cost has been an increase of secularism and a diminishment of wonder – be it in art, music, theatre and religious practices.

Professor Heschel’s formula for a life well lived is as follows: “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. ….get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”

Once again, our children can teach us. Jesus was clear in His teaching – we are to become like children and perhaps that is so we can re-capture our sense of wonder in our everyday life for as Heschel says, “Wonder rather than doubt is the root of all knowledge.”

Fr. Ronan

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time September 21/22, 2019

In Jesus’ parable of the Unjust Steward, we encounter a financial manager who has wasted his master’s wealth and faces dismissal from his position. To overcome the crisis confronting him, the steward reduces some very considerable debts owed by poor neighbors to his master in order to help them out. Though the steward has sinned against God and his master by squandering what belongs to someone else, both the prudent way in which he goes about resolving the crisis coupled with relieving people who are in need can be seen as a way to better steward the gifts entrusted to us by God. Although good stewards today acknowledge that they may never use their God-given gifts in a way that completely conforms to the demands of the Gospel, a commitment to using their gifts with prudence and for the purpose of helping their neighbors wins God’s favor.

I was twenty years old and finishing my second year of college when my parents decided it was time to sell the family home in Dorchester. Some of my older siblings had already moved on and I was the youngest. The neighborhood had changed a lot and my Dad planned to semi-retire and make a move to a smaller home in the suburbs. I spent a lot of that summer cleaning, moving and packing, and remembering. What a great old house that was and how hard it was to say goodbye – to change and to move on.

My story and memories are no different then those of so many of you as well, I imagine. We have all gone through changes in life – it is simply part of the journey. And if there has not been too much changing in your life – just wait a minute – something will come along real soon! Changes in the Church are sort of like changes in our homes and families – they are so close and personal to us. Of course we all come to realize that change is inevitable in all but the most fundamental things.

For example, our faith that sustains us daily; the love we share in families and friendships and the hope that is ours for tomorrow and into the future. These are all constants and we depend upon them each day. Our faith, hope and love may grow, be challenged and be taken for granted – but they are cornerstones of our life. It seems so much else changes. People, relationships, experiences, work, institutions, products, places and on and on – all come and go, leaving us to cope with an ever changing landscape.

And how do we cope as men and women of Faith with the changes in our lives and world? Some see changes as conspiracy and are threatened by change. Others see changes as exciting and inevitable and positive. Some are indifferent, others passionate about holding on to whatever.

For me, 6 Percival Street is gone – forever. All that was important in my life that happened at 6 Percival Street is a part of me and my brothers and sisters and our lives. Saying goodbye was hard as it often is. But, saying goodbye usually means we are saying hello as well. And if my history is any indication of my journey, and maybe yours, God has always been active in both the goodbyes and hellos – sustaining, helping guiding. In fact, it is in exactly the act of letting go of what is comfortable and familiar that we are invited to trust in the God who knows us so well and loves us so much. Sustained by this trust, we can go forward with hope.

Fr. Ronan

Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time September 7/8, 2019

At the conclusion of today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus tell a “great crowd” that “… anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.” A few of Jesus’ immediate disciples, such as Peter, John and James, did just that: They responded to Jesus’ call, renouncing everything to follow him. How do modern disciples of Jesus respond when confronted with this apparently harsh command of Jesus? Surely the renunciation of possessions need not mean literally giving all one’s possessions away, does it?
Questions we might ponder this week though:
Do our possessions keep us from encountering Christ at Mass?
Do they distract us from our parish family?
Do our possessions interfere with our relationships?
Do they make us insensitive to those less fortunate?

For as long as I can remember that phrase, “Labor Day Weekend” contained within it more emotion then I ever cared to face. Of all of the transitions that happen within the course of a calendar year, none seems as profound, as challenging and frankly as sad as this one. Summer is over. OK, I have said it, even though I don’t really accept it. There are still some weeks of beautiful weather ahead; everyone knows sailing and the best swimming are in September. And on and on, I try to push back to the sorry truth, summer is over.

I am certain I am not alone in this reaction to Labor Day. While parents of school age children secretly or otherwise rejoice that summer is ending and their children will return to school in a matter of days, most of us lament that the beauty and the loveliness of the summertime is ending.

In 1894 the U.S. Congress established Labor Day as a federal holiday to be celebrated on the first Monday in September. Today the weekend is embraced as a final fling of summertime for young and old. Family reunions, cookouts, parades and other kinds of social gatherings mark this weekend. The Sunday before Labor Day is called Labor Sunday. On this day it is recommended one reflect on the spiritual and educational aspects of work and the labor movement.

We all earn our daily bread by our work, in one way or another. Some of us are blessed with work that is more a vocation and it is deeply fulfilling and meaningful. Yet I think many do not find their jobs pleasant and enjoyable. Rather their work can be drudgery. The large numbers of workers who daily labor at one or two minimum wage jobs are an example. Over the brief history of workers in our country, it has been the labor movement that has brought relief for workers who had known abuse and exploitation. Many of us recall the stories of our parents and grandparents about the struggles of the immigrant workers in our cities. Those struggles continue for many immigrants today.

The Catholic Church has long been a committed friend of the worker. From early on the Church supported labor unions and the rights of workers to organize. Catholic Social Teaching would hold the following: The economy must serve people, not the other way around. Work is more than a way to make a living: it is a form of continuing participation in God’s creation. While the unions of today face many challenges they are nonetheless the hope of many workers for a decent wage and fair and safe working conditions. For all of these reasons and more, we gratefully celebrate Labor Day, 2019.

Underlying the rights of workers is our belief in the dignity of each person, as a child of God. This dignity pervades all that we are and do and infuses all the seasons of our lives with an awareness of God’s plan that all people have what they need to live with dignity and hope. Clearly we have a lot of work to do to make that dream a reality.

Fr. Ronan

Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time September 1, 2019

In today’s Gospel, Jesus challenged the social structure of the Pharisees and teaches his hosts and their guests some profound lessons in humility. Pharisees maintained deep social divisions between who they considered “holy” and “unholy,” rich and poor, honored and despised. They didn’t invite someone to a banquet or dinner who couldn’t reciprocate. And the lowly, the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind had no capacity to reciprocate. Good stewards realize that if they embrace a humility that allows them to be generous to those who cannot repay them, they give evidence of having the kind of heart that will enjoy the Lord’s intimate friendship. This week let’s reflect on our attitude towards those who cannot repay our generosity. What is the extent of our hospitality toward others? Are we generous with those who cannot repay us?