“Easy, now”
Those Catholic Men
by "Fr. Luke"
2d ago
A Homily for the Second Sunday of Lent I’ve trained quite a few horses in my life. Some of them left an impression, literally. Just ask my x-ray technician. I remember, in particular, a colt named Moonshine. He appeared calm when that his owner dropped him off at my place. But the next day, when I slipped a halter across his ears, Moonshine reared, landed a hoof on my chest and sent me flying! Later, his owner mentioned that Moonshine once caught his halter on a nail and spent an entire day snagged tight to post, unable to move. “He’s a bit touchy around the ears,” said his owner. (Thanks for ..read more
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You Can Only Feed a Hungry Man (or, Aquinas’ helpful definition of real alms-giving)
Those Catholic Men
by Mr. Jason Craig
1M ago
This is an excerpt from the book The Traditional Virtues According to St. Thomas Aquinas: A Study for Men, by Jason M. Craig. A thing lives when it breathes in and out. The virtue of charity is only alive when it “” in and out, so to speak, in loving God and man. This love is more than a feeling. “[It] is an act of charity to do good to others [for God’s sake],”[1] says Aquinas, and this “good” must be true action. Charity “requires that not only should we be our neighbor’s well-wishers, but also his well-doers.”[2] “Doing good” is labeled by Aquinas with the broad title of “beneficence,” whic ..read more
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Ash Wednesday
Those Catholic Men
by "Fr. Luke"
1M ago
The voice of hospital receptionist sounded concerned. “His name is Angel.” She was calling to inform me that a family was requesting my presence at the bedside of a man who did not have long to live. It was Ash Wednesday. I was filling-in for a vacationing pastor, so I checked the Mass schedule, then told the receptionist that I would be there shortly. I knew the hospital was nearby. The name Angel is common among Hispanics, yet the coincidence of being called to the bedside of a man named Angel on Ash Wednesday was remarkable. Allow me to explain. Three weeks ago, my sister died. I was u ..read more
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Chiropractor Chapel
Those Catholic Men
by "Fr. Luke"
1M ago
Two nuns occupy a corner of the waiting room. I take a seat near the door. To my right, an elderly woman pages through a copy of People magazine. On the sidewalk outside the window, a mother is giving instructions to three children.  The oldest one, a boy, frowns and stomps his foot. Soon, they enter the door and the sisters beckon the family to their part of the room. I lean my head against the wall, hoping for a quick snooze. The door opens again and I catch a glimpse of a black hat. A cowboy with manure-crusted boots plops down in a chair across from mine. He is young and sta ..read more
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Why Pray if We Can’t Change God’s Mind?
Those Catholic Men
by Mr. Jason Craig
2M ago
Having enthroned himself as a god, modern man struggles with the ideas of prayer.  Why pray for something with a touch of uncertainty when I know that Amazon can get it to me in a few days anyway?  I’m only slightly joking, but it is true that affluent and wealthy peoples have a harder time developing the healthy sense of need, of sending a request out with the possibility of hearing a “no,” like one does with the form of prayer we call petition.  Our entire lives are filled with “yes.”  Click the “L” key and the letter appears.  Turn the thermostat and the air warms ..read more
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A Mower named “Tuff”
Those Catholic Men
by "Fr. Luke"
2M ago
I cease yanking the pull cord on my push mower to catch my breath. Gas fumes waft in the air. “No, Tuff! Don’t kick the bucket today!” It is mid-November and the last time I’ll need to mow the lawn. “Just one pass, pal.” I glance at a swath of grass beyond the mole hills, then give mower one more yank. Then another. Then another. Tuff  hacks a dry cough. Another yank. Nothing. No click. No sputter. Not a quiver. Kneeling, I remove my hat. These difficult starts have been a summer-long issue. Fortunately for Tuff, the season was dry and my budget’s been low. I place my hand on th ..read more
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Timeless
Those Catholic Men
by "Fr. Luke"
2M ago
The rector was out of town and I was asked to offer the Masses at the cathedral in his place. While vesting in the sacristy, I noticed a picture on the wall, a drawing of a young John the Baptist. It was striking. I studied it a moment, figuring it was a print of some timeless classic. I was wrong. In 1907, a daughter of pioneer ranchers, Kostka Harvey, became a teacher and established the first Catholic school in the Texas panhandle. Among the subjects she taught was art and this picture was one of her drawings. I learned all this from the deacon who was vesting alongside me. But what he said ..read more
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Cell-Block Salvation
Those Catholic Men
by "Fr. Luke"
3M ago
Cell-Block Salvation: A Prison Homily Some folks find answers in the Bible. That makes me jealous. When I open the Bible, I find more questions than answers. Today’s gospel passage provides a good example. When Jesus surprises his listeners by praising a dishonest thief, he’s called to task. In response, he points out that that people who break the rules tend to get more accomplished than those who play by the rules. Now, mind you, he’s not saying that it’s okay to break the rules, he’s just pointing out that some folks stop at nothing to get what they want. That’s where the discussion wi ..read more
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Portraits and Parables
Those Catholic Men
by "Fr. Luke"
3M ago
Rita, my sister-in-law, resides in a nursing home. She can no longer converse and her days pass inside the embrace of a recliner. A blank stare occupies her face. Occasionally, a slight smile plays on her lips. Today, I gaze out the window in the silence of her presence, contemplating various scenes and seasons from her life. My visit falls on the feast of St. Luke and the opening verse of his gospel plays on my mind: I have investigated all that has occurred and have arranged the events into an orderly account. Without the lens of Luke’s narrative, and that of the other evangelists, how ..read more
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Cowboy Motel
Those Catholic Men
by "Fr. Luke"
4M ago
Their faces gaunt. Their eyes are blurred. Their shirts all soaked with sweat. Johnny Cash’s mystic anthem, Ghost Riders in the Sky, still echoes in the West Texas wind. But if you drive along Route 66 on the north side of Amarillo, the only cowboy you’ll likely see is one that stares from a motel marquee. His face is made of tin and his shirt drips rust instead of sweat. Down the street, at the Lasso Motel, a neon lariat aims to snag a customer in place of red-eyed cows plowing through the ragged skies and up the cloudy draw. I grew up in the 1950’s when small motels dotted the tw ..read more
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