As the tides of each day wash up and then recede, that’s what we call a “normal” day…everything proceeded pretty predictably. However, when those tides are affected by squalls and batter us a bit—upsetting what we had hoped would be a normal day—that’s what we may call an “unusual” or “abnormal” day…a bit of uncertainty interfered with our plans, but we were able to deal with it.
Those normal, usual, and abnormal days constitute what we call “life.” That is life and, for the most part, we’re pretty much in control of ourselves and the events of those days.
But, remember back in 2012 when Hurricane Sandy struck?
When we’re besieged by a superstorm, we lose our moorings. Battered relentlessly from all sides for a prolonged period of time, that’s not an unusual, abnormal, or even a “bad” day. No, it’s far beyond any of that…we realize that it’s potentially the “last day” portending the end times. Its awesome power scares the bejeezus out of everyone, even the strongest among us.
In today’s gospel we heard of a violent squall that suddenly arose. With waves breaking over the boat so that it was filling up with water, beginning to capsize, and it seemed this really was going to be the last day, Jesus asked his disciples, “Why are you terrified?”
The disciples must surely have been aghast, wondering, “Is he really this clueless?
The answer to Jesus’ question is simple and straightforward, as we know from our personal experience: Like the disciples, we’re terrified because we suddenly realize things have spun so far out of and beyond our control, we cannot even save ourselves!
A man of few words, Jesus said to his disciples, “Quiet! Be still!” In this way, the Psalmist’s words proved once again to be God’s living word:
They cried to the LORD in their distress;
from their straits he rescued them,
He hushed the storm to a gentle breeze,and the billows of the sea were stilled.
“Being of few words” in the midst of life’s storms characterizes a “crucifix faith.” Having confronted life’s storms and unlike the disciples in the boat and perhaps many of us, these folks don’t get distracted from doing what comes first by worrying only about themselves or “losing it.”
That phrase—“being of few words”—frames our reflections for this Twelfth Sunday or Ordinary Time...which also happens to be Father’s Day.
How did Jesus learn to be a man of few words?
Scripture provides a definitive answer, of course, because if there was a man of few words in all the pages of Scripture, it was St. Joseph. Believe it or not, there’s no record of St. Joseph speaking even one word.
How’s that for being a “man of few words”?
This “man of silent witness,” St. Joseph models for men today who want to be fathers exactly what being a man of silent witness requires: Listening to God; embracing the crucifix of humility and obedience to God’s plan; and, dedicating one’s life to service and sacrifice on behalf of others, and, in the case of St. Joseph, to Mary and Jesus.
Have you heard people in recent weeks clamoring to rename Mother’s Day “Birthing Person’s Day” and out of a sense of mistaken identity to rename Father’s Day “Sperm Donor’s Day”? What those folks are attempting to do is to reduce the vocations of motherhood and fatherhood to biological functions, forgetting the divine nature of both.
What does it mean to “forget the divine nature” of what God has ordained?
Consider the 2020 census data: More than 18 million children in the United States—that’s 25%+of all children—live without a biological, adoptive, or step-father present in the house.
While the absence of a father in the house doesn’t condemn his child to a life of hardship or failure—and this isn’t to neglect the heroic efforts on the part of those mothers who, amid very difficult circumstances, valiantly provide as best they can for the children those men have abandoned—the simple facts are that fatherless houses exhibit: a 400% greater risk of poverty; a 700% increase in teenage pregnancy; and, a statistically significant higher rate of substance abuse, crime, and a host of other psycho-social disorders.
Could abandoning one’s family be a grave sin? It’s effects indicate the answer is “Yes.” And, their children attest to it, never having in life the joy God ordained by creating fatherhood as a divine vocation.
The world has fallen from grace and every father is imperfect, but this doesn’t imply a father’s role isn’t critical for the healthy moral, spiritual, emotional, and physical development of his children. But, all of that pales if and when a father fails in what’s primary: To lead the children God has entrusted to his paternal ministry back to the Source of their lives—God the Father Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and earth, as we profess each time we repeat the Nicene Creed.
Church teaching concerning a family—precisely because this teaching is divinely revealed truth—offers the antidote to this spiritual, moral, psychological, and physical tragedy. Calling the family a “privileged community…the original cell of social life,” one that’s founded upon the Sacrament of Marriage, the Catechism of the Catholic Church states:
That phrase—“being of few words”—frames our reflections for this Twelfth Sunday or Ordinary Time...which also happens to be Father’s Day.
How did Jesus learn to be a man of few words?
Scripture provides a definitive answer, of course, because if there was a man of few words in all the pages of Scripture, it was St. Joseph. Believe it or not, there’s no record of St. Joseph speaking even one word.
How’s that for being a “man of few words”?
This “man of silent witness,” St. Joseph models for men today who want to be fathers exactly what being a man of silent witness requires: Listening to God; embracing the crucifix of humility and obedience to God’s plan; and, dedicating one’s life to service and sacrifice on behalf of others, and, in the case of St. Joseph, to Mary and Jesus.
Have you heard people in recent weeks clamoring to rename Mother’s Day “Birthing Person’s Day” and out of a sense of mistaken identity to rename Father’s Day “Sperm Donor’s Day”? What those folks are attempting to do is to reduce the vocations of motherhood and fatherhood to biological functions, forgetting the divine nature of both.
What does it mean to “forget the divine nature” of what God has ordained?
Consider the 2020 census data: More than 18 million children in the United States—that’s 25%+of all children—live without a biological, adoptive, or step-father present in the house.
While the absence of a father in the house doesn’t condemn his child to a life of hardship or failure—and this isn’t to neglect the heroic efforts on the part of those mothers who, amid very difficult circumstances, valiantly provide as best they can for the children those men have abandoned—the simple facts are that fatherless houses exhibit: a 400% greater risk of poverty; a 700% increase in teenage pregnancy; and, a statistically significant higher rate of substance abuse, crime, and a host of other psycho-social disorders.
Could abandoning one’s family be a grave sin? It’s effects indicate the answer is “Yes.” And, their children attest to it, never having in life the joy God ordained by creating fatherhood as a divine vocation.
The world has fallen from grace and every father is imperfect, but this doesn’t imply a father’s role isn’t critical for the healthy moral, spiritual, emotional, and physical development of his children. But, all of that pales if and when a father fails in what’s primary: To lead the children God has entrusted to his paternal ministry back to the Source of their lives—God the Father Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and earth, as we profess each time we repeat the Nicene Creed.
Church teaching concerning a family—precisely because this teaching is divinely revealed truth—offers the antidote to this spiritual, moral, psychological, and physical tragedy. Calling the family a “privileged community…the original cell of social life,” one that’s founded upon the Sacrament of Marriage, the Catechism of the Catholic Church states:
Authority, stability, and a life of relationships within the family constitute the foundations for freedom, security, and fraternity within society. The family is the community in which, from childhood, one can learn moral values, begin to honor God, and make good use of freedom. (#2206-2207)
Just because some in society today would like to reduce fatherhood to a biological function doesn’t mean that Catholics should follow their lead. Even if society affirms the fundamental importance of the father’s role in protecting one’s children, providing for their material well-being, and challenging them to become virtuous citizens, while that’s certainly important, laudable, and represents no small feat in a highly secular society, it expunges St. Joseph’s witness—and God’s primary place—from the discussion.
Announcing the Year of St. Joseph, Pope Francis noted in his apostolic letter Patris Corde:
Our world today needs fathers….Every true vocation is born of the gift of oneself, which is the fruit of mature sacrifice….In every exercise of our fatherhood, we should always keep in mind that it has nothing to do with possessions, but is rather a “sign” pointing to a greater fatherhood. (#7)
Much of what confounds society today arises from a crisis of appreciating the divine nature of fatherhood: To be a witness of heroic generosity and sacrificial love in caring for one’s wife and children. This silent witness is one of unfailing presence, especially as the tempests and storms of life arise. Of this witness, Pope Francis wrote in the apostolic exhortation Amoris Laetitia:
God sets the father in the family so that by the gifts of his masculinity he can be close to his wife and share everything….And to be close to his children as they grow….To be a father who is always present. (#177)
Notice the word “first” isn’t found in that description. God didn’t “set the father [first] in the family,” Pope Francis implies, but among his wife and children to be an unfailing presence of humility and quiet strength—oftentimes unnoticed, unrecognized, and unappreciated—so that “even the wind and sea obey” when he speaks. This is precisely how the Holy Spirit works through and influences families to become holier families, increasingly approximating ever more fully the Holy Family.
That silent witness, revealed in the use of few not many words, influences family members invisibly, and most powerfully, when those words bestow identity upon their children, the very first element of that identity being “worthy of love.” Only a father who is humble and strong can communicate this message to his children…identical to the way God the Father communicates with any of His children who are willing to listen. All this father hopes is that his children won’t imitate his faults but outdo him in virtue.
St. Joseph’s personal vocation—as a unique and unrepeatable father as each is—was to prepare his son to embrace the Crucifix on Good Friday by allowing himself to be led by God, practicing heroic generosity and sacrificial living, and protecting the lives of God’s children who God entrusted to his ministry. In this way, St. Joseph instilled confidence in Mary and Jesus, a confidence that assisted both to flourish when the tempests and storms inevitably arose in their lives...as they did.
Beyond all that good stuff, St. Joseph also followed the pathway of his dreams and, in this way, the French author Charles Peguy is accurate in his observation: A father must be “adventurous” and, in particular, by allowing himself to become so comfortable that he is not alert to and vigilant of today’s threats to his family and children. Consider the Internet: Today, the intruder doesn’t even have to break through the front doors! Instead, the intruder enters through electronic technology and gadgets that attract and mystify children until they’re so hooked upon those gadgets that relationships based upon pixels are more satisfying real than relationships with living and breathing human beings.
In medieval times, St. Joseph was called the “Terror of Demons” because he was alert, vigilant, and listening to his dreams. All of this positioned him to ward off the intruders of his day by being adventurous enough to do whatever it took him—as the “custodian of the family,” as St. Pope John Paul II called St. Joseph—to protect Mary and Jesus from those intruders.
Remember the trip to Egypt?
While many people today may not believe in the concept of “spiritual warfare,” few can disagree that fatherhood is under systematic attack today because, as the 2020 census data reveal, if you can remove fathers, you can destroy families and, success in that effort means the potential destruction of future generations. It’s a challenging situation that confronts every father today. Each needs to be “extra good” custodians of the families God has entrusted to their ministry in the storms and tempests of these days.
Although changing times and changes in culture offer the promise of a better future, they also can ensnare the unwitting into a worse future. Even so, what cannot ever change are the fundamental principles of fatherhood as God has ordained it: To make their families a “domestic church” by prioritizing family prayer; devoting quality time to family life; exemplifying patience—“long-suffering,” it’s called; and, epitomizing service in caring for others and their needs. This is how authentic Catholic fathers practice a “crucifix faith” and discover meaning in their lives, leaving everything of value behind when they die.
When a father precedes his wife and children in death, he leaves them behind. In their grief, they realize someone unique and unrepeatable has departed—the days of his life populated with joys, sufferings, and loves—that will be sustained in memory. So will the values he exemplified throughout his days. Even though a father is absent, he remains a steadfast presence as his inspiration of humility, quiet strength, and adventurous spirit lives on in his children, inspires his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and generations to come as well.
Consider this contrast: What father wouldn’t fret if one’s children grow up faithless, could care less about having “lost it” at every turn, was motivated only about getting everything he wanted, and died wishing he could have spent more time at work?
Yet, this is precisely how Catholic fathers who live a “Christmas crib faith” do live...for the wrong purpose and cause...and die having worshipped the treasonous idols of the present age, leaving nothing of value behind. Well, maybe a lasting memory that would cause them to blush in shame.
Choosing to embrace a “crucifix faith” requires father to steel the courage it will take to embrace the suffering which will cause themselves and, through their silent witness, their children to grow in virtue and avoid vice.
That represents our challenge from Scripture for this sixth week of Easter: To contemplate that living a more “crucifix faith” requires us “to love one another” by “laying down one’s life for one’s friends.” And in particular this Sunday: By becoming silent witnesses whose steadfast presence inspires humility and selfless service in others.
To that end, each day this week, let’s contemplate the fathers to whom God has entrusted each of us.
- Imperfect as each was, each day recall a different experience of his silent witness.
- Then, give thanks to God for that witness and offer up a prayer for him.
And, for those among us who are not able to recall any experience of his silent witness:
- Rather than continuing to lament what wasn’t, allow your heart be moved, as Jesus’ heart was, by pity for your father who didn’t fulfill his divine vocation.
- Then, ask God to be merciful upon him in the hope that in the Kingdom, what wasn’t will be forever when, as St. Paul reminded us in today’s epistle, “the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come.”
As the tides and storms of life besiege us from all sides, Father’s Day reminds each of us today of God’s paternal love made incarnate through the silent witness of our fathers who pointed us to life’s true North: The Crucifix of Calvary.
“Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?”
“Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?”
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