The above is a recording of a recent presentation given at the Diocese of Bismarck's "Enduring Legacy of Vatican II" symposium. The Second Vatican Council, for those unaware, was a meeting of Catholic bishops in Rome that took place during the years of 1962-1965. The Council produced 16 documents, and during this "Year of Faith," the Diocese of Bismarck has enlisted "experts" to talk on each of these documents.

My presentation was on the document "Inter Mirifica," the "Decree on the Means of Social Communication." You can read this and other documents from the Council at the Year of Faith web site.

-Fr. Jason

I do not have cable or satellite television. I've found that the Internet provides reliable streaming in such a way that I can choose the shows I want to watch, and it's much cheaper. Awhile ago I signed up for the service Hulu, which I've found to be a decent service. There is one extremely annoying aspect of this, however: propaganda.

Here's what I mean. Whenever I fire up Hulu on my t.v. to watch an old episode of Star Trek, or whatever, I am invariably bombarded with same-sex marriage propaganda. Perhaps it's not just Hulu. Have you seen the new Microsoft Outlook ad featuring the happy lesbian couple on their "wedding" day (the video above)? Microsoft and others are going way out of their way to show us "hey, look, gay marriage is great and completely normal!" Next, a commercial from the so-called "Human Rights Campaign" flashes up on my screen to tell me how tragic it is that same-sex couples can't get married, appealing to my emotions without any reference to truth or reason.

You can call a same-sex relationship a marriage all you want, but that does not make it marriage. You can *say* it's good for society, for children, and for people to allow and encourage same-sex relationships, but that does not make it so.

Marriage is a beautiful thing, and we didn't invent it, and we can't change it. Check out Archbishop Aquila's positive column on the subject by clicking here.

Can't I just enjoy a show? Ugh.

-Fr. Jason

Just yesterday, the snow finally melted away. There was almost none left on the ground. Then ... this. I spent an hour playing with the snowblower to clear out my driveway, though it probably won't matter until a plow passes by. Snowmobiles are cruising up and down the streets. And it's not done snowing!

-Fr. Jason

That's a picture of my grandpa, Robert Brunelle, at his 90th birthday. He always was neatly dressed and smiling. Sadly, he died recently, on Tuesday, April 2nd. You can read his obituary at the Fargo Forum web site. Below is the homily I delivered at his funeral Mass, which was celebrated last Saturday (4/6/13) at Sts. Anne & Joachim Catholic Church in Fargo. The homily is based on these readings: Rev 14:13; Ps 23; 2Cor 5:1,6-10; Jn 12:23-26.

Being by grandpa’s side as he passed away was one of the most beautiful experiences of my priesthood.

Grandma asked him once if he was afraid to die, and he said plainly that he was not. His life echoed that of Saint Paul who wrote “that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight…and we would rather leave the body and go home to the Lord.” He loved life very much—the farming, the fishing, the family, the Church. But I think he understood and believed that what awaited him, if he could remain faithful, was infinitely better; that the good things in this life are just a dim reflection of the goodness of God in heaven.

As a result he always tried to be faithful. At the end of his life we saw his faithfulness rewarded in an ideal death, if we can say there is such a thing.

Here is what I mean. Consider how much Grandpa loved the Holy Eucharist (Jesus’ presence in Holy Communion). It was a big cross for him to be homebound and unable to go to Mass, here, in the morning. But by God’s providence, he was able to enjoy one last Mass and Holy Communion in his home. He even read the readings at that Mass we celebrated in their kitchen on Monday.

The next day, having received the anointing of the sick and the apostolic pardon (a powerful prayer of forgiveness), and while surrounded by family, he literally drew his last breath as I recited passages from Sacred Scripture about the glories awaiting him, and hopefully us, in heaven.

Our duty here, now, is to pray for Grandpa’s soul, that he might be purified of any imperfections and enter heaven. Yet, when I look at how Grandpa lived and died, I’m more hopeful than I’ve ever been about this man’s presence in Heaven. We would all do well to learn from Grandpa’s life.

Over and over again these days I’ve heard it said “Robert was such a hard worker” on the farm. Perhaps that is why this parable from Jesus came to mind as I was choosing the Gospel passage for today. Jesus told us that “unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a single grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.”

Jesus, in this parable, was telling us how to live our lives. Preserving a grain of wheat does no good. Planted in the ground, the grain is sacrificed but new life springs out of it. It grows and produces bushels of wheat.

We’re called to live our lives for others, spending them generously, dying to self for the good of others. Today we commend Grandpa’s body to the earth but even now we see his life has produced much fruit among us, in our lives. Just look how full this Church is today! Hopefully from Heaven, he will continue to do great things by his prayers to increase the Lord’s harvest and to help us on our journeys to Heaven.

Now, let me close with two parting thoughts. First, and I already alluded to it: Grandpa loved the Holy Eucharist. The Eucharist is God, Jesus Christ. Heaven itself consists of adoring this same God. If Grandpa is in heaven, and we pray he is, he adores this same God. That means when we attend Mass we are in his company. If Grandpa’s in Heaven, he’s at Mass. So if we miss Grandpa, we can go to a Catholic Church and chances are he’s right there with us.

Second, and my closing thought, is this. In 1995 I had to interview Grandpa for a high school U.S. History project. I asked him if he had any advice on how to live a good life. He simply said “Just be honest, be good, and go to church. Those would be my main advice.”

It sounds like good advice to me. Thank you, Grandpa.

Habemus Papam! We have a pope! Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, the former Archbishop of Buenos Aires, Argentina, was quickly chosen as our new Holy Father. He’s the first pope from the “New World.” He has chosen the name of Francis.

On a homework assignment I gave our confirmation students I posed this question: “Why should you love the Catholic Church and why must you never leave it?” It’s a good question for us to consider as we watch Pope Francis begin his reign as pontiff.

We should remember that Jesus Christ became man. He knows how we need to see and touch and hear him if we are to know him and follow him. That’s why he established the Catholic Church as a visible human (and yet divine) organization: so the entire world, and not just the Holy Land where he walked during his earthly life, could know him, receive his forgiveness, and learn the truth of the Gospel.

The Catechism reminds us that: “The sole Church of Christ [is that] which our Savior, after his Resurrection, entrusted to Peter’s pastoral care, commissioning him and the other apostles to extend and rule it. . . . This Church, constituted and organized as a society in the present world, subsists in the Catholic Church, which is governed by the successor of Peter and by the bishops in communion with him” (CCC 816).

Vatican II’s Decree on Ecumenism explains: “For it is through Christ’s Catholic Church alone, which is the universal help toward salvation, that the fullness of the means of salvation can be obtained. It was to the apostolic college alone, of which Peter is the head, that we believe that our Lord entrusted all the blessings of the New Covenant...”

Why must we love the Church and never leave it? The simple answer: This is Jesus Christ’s Church. It is, and always has been, governed by true successors of Saint Peter whom Jesus himself appointed. The 265th successor of Peter, as of Wednesday, is a man from Argentina: Pope Francis. How much more real can the Church of Christ get? It’s good to be Catholic!

-Fr. Jason

P.S.: The above image is "Saint Peter as Pope."

The following is my homily for the 4th Sunday of Lent, based on Luke 15, the "Parable of the Prodigal Son."

We’ve just heard one of the most beautiful passages of the entire Bible: The Parable of the Prodigal Son, or perhaps more appropriately, the Parable of the Father and his two Sons. In parables we can always identify with the characters and, in recognizing ourselves in them, we’re challenged to change ourselves—or to let God change us—for the better.

In this particular parable we find three characters: The father, the younger “prodigal” son, and the older son. I want to look at each of these in turn.

First, let’s consider the father. It’s curious that the father granted the selfish son’s request for half of everything he owned. We’d expect him to write the son out of the will for being so insulting. But instead, he grants the son’s request because he loves his son and respected his free will.

The same is true of our Heavenly Father. He, too, respects our free wills—our ability to reject him or to remain with him. In truth, we could not love God if we did not have that choice—we’d be his mindless puppets without free will. So, he lets us run off on our own. But when we return, having realized our own weakness and need for him, he is pleased and welcomes us, not as lowly servants in his home, but as sons and daughters. The father in this parable, then, shows us the unconditional love our Father in Heaven has for us.

What about the younger son? He was a selfish, inconsiderate young man. He approached his father and said, basically, “Father, I’m sick and tired of waiting for you to die. Give me my inheritance now.” How insulting! Having received that wealth, he went off and wasted it all on himself. The money ran out and the young man was so hungry that he became jealous of the pigs he was forced to tend. Then, the Gospel tells us, the young man came to his senses. He set out for home.

Along the way he thought of what he would say to his father, whom he had so terribly offended. He had his speech all planned out. He was going to admit his guilt, admit he no longer deserved to be called his father’s son. He was only going to ask to work as a hired man in his father’s house.

But then, he was surprised. Before he even got to the house, his father ran out to meet him. The young man began his practiced speech, but was cut off before he could even finish. He never got to ask to be treated as one of the hired workers. Instead, the father restored the son’s dignity—giving him fine clothes and throwing a celebration in his honor. He was, as the father in the parable said several times, dead but had come to life.

We see ourselves in this younger son. God our Father gives us life, health, and wealth. We spend it all on ourselves and ignore his commandments. But, eventually, things happen in our lives. Maybe we fall ill, or lose a loved one, or fall on hard financial times. Then we realize that we can’t do this on our own. We need to go home to our Father and receive his mercy, forgiveness, and love. If we do, we find our dignity as sons and daughters restored. Our burdens are lightened or we find the help we need to carry them, in God’s grace.

How do we, then, who are sinners in need of God’s mercy, receive it? For us, that mercy is dispensed primarily through the sacrament of Reconciliation which is “the first step in returning to the Father” from whom we stray by our sin (CCC 1423). The Catechism tells us:

[the sacrament of ] reconciliation “is usually followed by peace and serenity of conscience with strong spiritual consolation.” Indeed the sacrament of Reconciliation with God brings about a true “spiritual resurrection,” restoration of the dignity and blessings of the life of the children of God, of which the most precious is friendship with God.

Serenity, consolation, resurrection, restoration: very good things. Yet, many fear or dismiss this sacrament, which is disappointing. After all, when one who is living a life of sin, having departed from the father returns, unworthy as he or she is, the Father is overjoyed. In the parable the father watched, day after day, hoping his son would return and he celebrated the day of his arrival. There is no anger, no harsh judgment when we admit to our Father that we are sinners. He knows that already. When one who has not received God’s mercy in confession for a long time returns, the Father is very pleased…it’s a cause for celebration!

Finally, let us consider the older son. We can also see ourselves in this man. When his younger brother came home, humbled and disgraced, he didn’t welcome him. On the contrary, he refused to even go into the house to join the celebration. It was unfair, he felt, that his brother who had taken so much from their father and wasted it would be welcomed so warmly.

He felt cheated and asked why the father hadn’t even given him a goat to feast on with his friends. But what the older son perhaps forgot was this: he might not have been given some of the father’s stuff, like that goat or even the inheritance his younger brother was given. What he did have was the father himself, right there with him, always: a father who would give his life for him if need be.

We, too, do this at times. In smaller towns everybody knows what everybody else has done wrong. Perhaps those who do not come to Mass are ashamed to darken the door of the church for fear they’ll be judged by all of us who, like the older son, never left. If we judge such people as unworthy of entering the church, or scoff when we see them in the pews or heading for the confessional, we’re like the older son… who was himself, then, stubbornly outside the father’s house.

We should seek to always have charity and compassion for those who are living openly sinful lives. We should tell them about the beauty of our Father’s merciful love—his compassion. We should share with them this parable of the two sons and let them know they are more than welcome here—in fact, their return to God’s grace is cause for celebration.

Both these sons were, at different times, outside their father’s house—outside the community, alone, separated and suffering. The younger son was outside because he went off and lived a sinful and selfish life, squandering his wealth. The older son, on the other hand, was outside the father’s house because he self-righteously judged his younger brother and became jealous.

I encourage all of you to pick up your Bible and open to Luke, chapter 15. Prayerfully read this parable and ask yourself, which of these characters am I most like today? How can I change for the better?

Let us also, then, seek the sacrament of confession if we need to and joyfully invite others—especially those fellow sinners we’re tempted to look down upon—to receive that great sacrament of forgiveness. Our Father wants all of us in his house, and in his good graces.

-Fr. Jason Signalness

P.S.: The image above is the "Return of the Prodigal Son" by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, between 1667 and 1670.

Below is my homily for this Sunday, which is the 2nd Sunday of Lent. This homily is based on Luke 9:28-36.

Just prior to the passage from Luke which we just heard, Jesus asked Peter “Who do you say that I am?” And Peter, by the grace of God, responded “The Messiah of God.” Peter had come to believe that Jesus was the one whom the Jews had been awaiting for centuries. Peter and the others had left everything to follow Jesus. No doubt, they had great hope that Jesus was going to do incredible things.

But then Jesus gave them some shocking, horrifying news. He told them he would soon “suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised.” This was the first prediction of the Passion of Jesus.

No doubt it troubled Peter, James, John, and the others. They’d put all their hopes in Jesus and he told them he would soon be killed… and be raised, whatever that meant. Of course we know what it meant, with hindsight. But for them, at the time, this was not good news.

Then Jesus took Peter, James, and John up a mountain to pray. Those three men were given a special privilege that day as they saw Jesus’ Transfigured, changed. His clothes became dazzling, blindingly white. Now, let’s look at some of the details of this scene.

First of all, who was there? Peter, James, and John. These were the same men who would, before long, witness Jesus’ agony in the garden before his arrest and crucifixion. Peter, who would lead the Church as the first Pontiff and, himself, be crucified. James, who would be martyred for the faith in the year 44. And finally, John, who would stand at the foot of the cross, consoling our Blessed Mother. Tough times were ahead.

St. Bede explained that our Lord, “in a loving concession allowed Peter, James, and John to enjoy for a very short time the contemplation of the happiness that lasts forever, so as to enable them to bear adversity with greater fortitude” (Bede, Commentary on St Mark, 8; 30:1,3).

This was a small glimmer of Heaven for these men who were about to endure great hardship. In the Transfiguration of Jesus, they got a momentary glimpse of the divine nature of Christ that was normally hidden from their view. They would hold onto the memory of this moment for the rest of their lives, always longing for that vision of God’s divinity.

After all, that vision of God is what we are all made for. The Gospel tells us that before Jesus was transfigured, the others were asleep. Only in the presence of Jesus’ revealed glory are they “fully awake.” Heaven, for us, will feel so much more real and vivid than this life. It’s no wonder Peter enjoyed it. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted the experience to last, so he said beautifully “Master, it is good that we are here.” It would have been very good.

But, as we know, Peter was missing the point.

St. John Damascene wrote that “It was not good for you, Peter, that Christ should abide there, for if He had remained … [you would not] have obtained the keys of the kingdom, nor [would have] the tyranny of death been abolished. … The time will come when you shall enjoy the sight without ceasing, and dwell together with Him who is light and life…. the Lord ordained you not the builder of tabernacles [of tents], but of the universal Church.” (From the Catena)

It wasn’t yet time to bask in God’s presence in Heaven. For Peter and the others, there was work to be done.

After all, let’s not forget the two other figures who were present atop the mountain: Moses and Elijah. Their presence was a little surprising, considering that they had lived centuries before Jesus walked the earth. I suppose this tells us something about Heaven: the saints are there, outside of time, ready to meet us should we be blessed to arrive there some day.

Peter might have been fumbling for words, but Jesus was having a conversation with these two towering Old Testament figures. And what were they talking about? They were talking about what Jesus was going to accomplish in Jerusalem: his death and resurrection.

There was work to be done. This wonderful, consoling event was all about preparing the men to carry their crosses.

That is how God often works: he gives us what we need, in the good times, to help us endure difficult times that will come. St. Ignatius gives us relevant advice in his Tenth Rule, which urges “the one who is in consolation to think how he will conduct himself in the desolation that will come after, taking new strength for that time” (Gallagher, Discernment of Spirits, p. 126).

Most of us will not have the pleasure of seeing the Transfigured Christ standing before us, with visible light, his glory, nearly blinding us; at least not in this life.

But we do get little glimpses of God’s glory. Maybe God uses the beauty of nature to speak to us. Maybe he speaks to us deeply through some work of art. He does that. But he, even more often, if we give him the time, will speak to us in quiet prayer and in the Liturgy, especially the Holy Eucharist.

Sometimes, when we pray quietly or attend Mass, God consoles us. We might be moved to tears, we might feel a deep peace, or we might just be granted a deeper understanding. However it happens, we want to say with St. Peter “Master, it is good that we are here.”

But, alas, there is work to be done. Consolations don’t last forever. But when we are blessed by them, we should enjoy the experience and thank God. We should also be prepared for them to fade as we go back out into the busy-ness of our lives. Yet, we should not forget those moments. They should, rather, shape and inform the way we live.

This reminds me of the dismissal at the end of every Mass. “Go and proclaim the Gospel of the Lord” or “Go forth…” Here, at Mass, we’re consoled, fed, and reminded of what it means to be Christians. We celebrate in the presence of Jesus Christ, and we receive his Body and Blood. It is good to be here. But we can’t stay here all the time. We have to go out into the world and tell others about Jesus Christ. It might not be easy. Jesus, in fact, told us that it wouldn’t be. He said we must take up our crosses.

But, as we do lift up our heavy crosses, we should remember the encouragement and graces we receive in prayer and the sacraments. God is always with us, even when he feels absent.

-Fr. Jason

P.S.: The image above is "The Transfiguration" by Lorenzo Lotto, from about 1510-1512.

So I launched a browser on my computer and loaded up Twitter to see what people were saying. Then I loaded up a few other news sites. I sighed, and felt sad. We have a very good Pope, as was his predecessor. I pray the Holy Spirit grants us another holy, intelligent, and strong leader like Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI.

This news has led to a trip down memory lane for me. After all, Pope Benedict XVI was elected on April 19th, 2005, just two days after I received the sacrament of confirmation and returned to the Catholic Church. Also, I've had three opportunities to see this Pope:

The first time was on March 1st, 2006, in Rome at a general audience.

The second time was a surprise convoy in front of St. Peter's Basilica while I was walking on the street in Rome. That's him waving (directly to me, of course) from his car.

The third time was during the Holy Father's 2008 apostolic journey to the United States. We boarded buses in St. Louis and drove to New York to participate. Us seminarians were close to the front, so I got to take this picture.

Rather than ramble on any longer, I'll just point out that I share the feelings of Jimmy Akin and thank him for his insightful thoughts.

God's will be done!
-Fr. Jason