July 12, 2026

Dear Parishioners,

I think one of the points from our first reading from the prophet Isaiah (“Just as from the heavens the rain and the snow come down and do not return there until they have watered the earth…”) is that God makes use of all suffering. Rain and snow are painful (especially snow). They disrupt our plans, they can cause damage, and they get us wet or cold in an uncomfortable way. But rain and snow serve a purpose. They water the earth. They make the land fruitful and fertile. I remember a funny country song from several years back by artist Luke Bryant titled “Rain is a Good Thing.” I can’t repeat all the lyrics here as they are probably not appropriate for a parish bulletin, but, suffice to say, Mr. Bryant sings about the beneficial effects of rain for someone living in the country, as opposed to someone living in the city.

We could likewise sing, “The cross is a good thing.” Or could we? We know it intellectually (at least, I think we do). But do we really believe it? Do we really accept it? Do we really like it and appreciate it? That’s much more difficult.

They trained us in seminary when dealing with grief counseling to not “explain away” the situation. For example, say a young couple is mourning their child who was tragically killed in an accident. The priest shouldn’t say something like “Well, he’s in a better place now,” or “now we have an angel in heaven,” or even, “God works in mysterious ways.” None of that is helpful. And that is a subtle avoidance of the cross.

Just because we know ‘the cross is a good thing’ doesn’t mean we have to be happy about it and get over our struggle with it. What they trained us to do in seminary, rather than utter some cliche to try to take away the pain, is simply to remain in attentive silence with the grieving people. Love them, pray silently for them, perhaps give them a hug–something to show you are with them and care for them. There’s no answer for the difficult situation, and God isn’t calling us to try to come up with an answer. The cross isn’t an exam or a lesson. If we’re called to do anything, it is simply to own our hurt, not feel ashamed by it, and give it to God. That is what the priest’s silent, accepting presence is doing in those situations. By not teaching them about the cross, but simply being there with them (and not running from it), he is indicating to the suffering people that they are loved and they are good. It won’t take the pain away, but it is something.

This example deals with ministering to other people. What about ministering to yourself? We have a tendency, as I’ve mentioned in previous bulletin letters, to go “AI” on ourselves with prayer. We preach to ourselves, we moralize, we suppress. In the face of the cross or some setback, aren’t we so quick to pep ourselves up? We say, after grieving for a bit, things like, “Well, this will give me thicker skin” or “this will be a good lesson for me.” But that’s on a good day. On a bad day we might “pep” ourselves up saying things like “I’ll never trust anyone again” or “I hope that person [who hurt me] suffers” or “I hate you, God.” Though that’s not really “pepping up” but rather dragging down.

The invitation isn’t to make statements or draw lessons. It is simply to be. That’s one of the reasons I love the parables, especially today’s parable of the sower and the seed. Notice Jesus never moralizes in the parable. He doesn’t say “You should be fertile soil.” He simply lays out the facts: these are the different types of soil people can be (rocky ground, path, shallow soil, fertile soil). We might draw our own conclusions and say we should all be fertile soil. But that’s our conclusion. We didn’t hear it from our Lord’s mouth. What if Jesus was okay with people who are rocky ground or shallow soil? If everyone was fertile soil, there’d be plants everywhere and nowhere to walk (paths), nowhere to build (rocky ground), nowhere to play (shallow soil), and the birds would not be fed from the seed that fell on paths. In other words, there is room on this earth for rocky ground, paths, and shallow soil. They all get seeds too. God doesn’t discriminate.

So, back to the country song, sure, ‘rain is a good thing,’ but let’s not force ourselves to feel that truth. The cross is a good thing, but it is okay to fall under the weight of it. Our Lord fell three times. And just as he was picked up, so too will we be.

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I hope you all are enjoying these summer days. Thank you for your continued support of our parish, even when you are traveling (this, by the way, is the benefit of online giving). Please be safe and get some rest. While, as I’ve mentioned before, most of our ministries are on summer break, we continue to be busy with sacraments, particularly this month with funerals and baptisms. Our maintenance team is also hard at work cleaning and repairing the various buildings. Finally, another word of appreciation to the parishioner volunteers who water all the flowers around campus, especially around the new Mary statue by the side of the church, as well as the Mother Cabrini Garden by the Adoration Chapel.

Yours in Christ,

Fr. James Wallace