St. Charles School

Today's Reflection from Father Dave The good in Good Friday is like the good in good-bye, a painful contradiction. It is Jesus’ farewell to the world. (Pat M...arrin) Yesterday, I got a later start on my walk, but that had an advantage as I saw more people. Along the way I met one of our parishioners and while keeping social distancing protocols I asked how the family was holding up. His reply was wonderful, and it became my thought for reflection. As the family was trying to make sense of all that was happening, the question was: What’s the purpose? Why do we need to stay inside? The family has settled on living out the response to this by asking the question everyday: For whom are you doing this? It might be for the nurses and doctors, the first responders, for your grandparents. Each day this is the question, For whom are you doing this? What was the purpose of Good Friday if not for love? A love so deep, so unconditional, a love worth dying for. If not for that, it makes no sense. We are fortunate that we know how things turned out. For Good Friday does not make sense if not for Easter. Yet Jesus did not have that same luxury of foresight. He went to the cross out of complete love; He gave Himself completely. He loved His own in the world, and He loved them to the end. (John 13:1) We are presently in a time of unknowing. Just what will be the cost for us? How we come out of this crisis is so very key to our faith. How determined are we to live as Jesus has shown us these last few days by His suffering, death, and resurrection? Ask yourself: For whom are you doing this?

St. Charles School students presenting the Stations of the Cross

Today's Reflection Father Dave: I struggle with this Friday we call Good. What would I have done if I had been present that day on the road to Calvary? Do I kno...w for sure? So again, I relinquish today’s reflection to another. --------------------------- I remember that day. My name is Simon and I with my two sons, Alexander and Rufus have just arrived in Jerusalem. There was a large crowd coming up the hill following a man dragging a large cross; he looked more dead than alive. Cuts and bruises covered his body; someone had slammed a wreath of thorns on his head, and now they were forcing him to drag this burden. I just wanted to get away. I did not want my sons to see this spectacle. How could people be so cruel to treat a human life in such a callous and horrible manner? Before I could move away one of the soldiers seized me. He forced me into carrying part of the cross, and my boys could only watch. I was from Cyrene and this brusque and harsh treatment was not new to me. I snuck a peek of this man, and through the blood and sweat there was a look about him. He glanced back and thanked me. We continued up the hill, this stranger and I. Never had I witnessed such anger and hostility from a crowd of people. What could he have done to warrant such treatment? Then we came upon a group of women wailing in grief. What was happening here, a vicious mob, out for more blood, and a small group of women crying in agony over the treatment this man was receiving... Where are my boys? Are they okay? We reached the top of this hill called Calvary, and finally we were able to set down the heavy cross. I looked at this man, and all I could say was, I am sorry, as I was shoved out of the way by the soldiers. Again he gave a look of gratitude amidst all this horror. I had to get away, but where were Rufus and Alexander? Dad, dad! my boys were running to me, frightened, terrified of what they were witnessing. They thought I was going to be crucified; I had to get them away from this scene! They would not understand; I did not understand. Holding tight to them I pushed through the crowd; it was more silent now. I could hear the hammer blows, driving nails through His hands and feet. Don’t let the boys see it. Then all was quiet. I could hear an occasional taunt, but no response. We made it to an opening in the crowd, and there stood a Roman centurion. My eyes caught his and he looked at me, not as a slave or a foreigner, but as a person. A cry went up behind us, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani, and then all was silent. The Centurion, who had sworn allegiance to Caesar spoke: Truly, He was the Son of God. We left the hillside, just wanting to get away, no longer interested in the festival we had come to celebrate in Jerusalem. That is my story of how I met Jesus the Nazorean, or as I have come to believe, The Christ. For we were there in Jerusalem, Alexander, Rufus and I the day the Holy Spirit came upon the crowd. We are even mentioned in one of the writings from that time. My boys are grown now. They, too, are different because of that day, but they continue to speak the Good News about that Friday that is called Good.

Today's Reflection Another Lenten companion writes today’s reflection: My life was imperfect according to the law, and worse, shameful to the expectations of... the fine people in this town of my ancestors. Let’s just say I had a checkered past. Most recognized me and my unconventional ways. Truth be told, I was scorned. The good women in our town went to Jacob’s well for water in early morning or in the cool of evening. But it was my daily routine to gather water from the well at noon (mostly to avoid their pointed gossip about my life). It was blazing hot then, but it was the time I preferred. A few weeks ago, I arrived at the well, and a man was there, a Jew, a problem. He was visibly tired, and me, a Samaritan woman now would have to bake in the sun waiting for him to leave before I could draw my water. Not what I had planned that day, testing my patience! Believe it or not, this Jewish man asked me for water to drink. I thought, What is wrong with him? Does he not know it is uncustomary for a Jew to speak with a Samaritan, much less a woman, and worse, a Samaritan woman of my reputation? As if this were not crazy enough, he offered me some living water, that when taken in, there would be no more thirst. When I asked for some of that water (Yet, he didn’t even have a bucket!), he told me to get my husband. Ha!, I said, Stranger, I have no husband. He exclaimed, You are right, you have no husband. And then he spoke plainly of my five husbands, my sins against the law, my regular indiscretions. It was then that I knew he must be a prophet, to know all this of me, yet a stranger. He began to speak of the hour in which God would seek His people. Shaking and sweating in the sun, I said, I remember from the holy teachings that there is to be a Messiah coming, and that when He comes, He will tell us everything. I nearly dropped my water jar when he said, I who speak to you am He. Then a bunch of his friends arrived, staring at this unexpected, inappropriate gathering. So, I left my jar, hurried back to town, and explained to the townspeople what had happened. He KNEW me fully, told me of all I ever did in my failings, and still he offered me a fountain of living water for eternal life, a path to worship in Spirit and truth. Stunned, the townsmen hurried out to meet Him and begged Him to stay awhile. For two days He was in Samaria, and through His spoken word many more came to believe in Him, that He is the Savior of the world. You know, they arrested Him and crucified Him. Some say he rose from the dead. It seems possible to me because we had heard Him and came to see Him as the Messiah. I will always remember Him and proclaim Him, for He recognized me, a sinner, and yet saved me, the least among us, with the water of new life.

Today's Reflection from a Lenten Companion: To give the Padre a day off he asked one of his Lenten companions write today’s reflection: My name is not import...ant because I could be anybody. I am known as the man with the withered hand. It wasn’t always that way. I was a stonemason and a good one. It was hard work, but at the end of the day when I put down my hammer and chisel there always was a feeling of accomplishment. Often I would step back and look at my work. I never wanted to be anything else; this was my calling. Then it happened. A large stone dislodged and crushed my hand, my right hand, the hand that knew just how much force was needed for each blow, the hand that always was true in its aim. How would I ever work at my trade again? How would I support my wife and children? How do I cope with losing my vocation and purpose in life? Truth be told, I was miserable to be with, and my wife and kids took the brunt of my despair. I needed to get out of the house. The walls were closing in on me. I had time on my hands (no pun intended) and heard of a teacher in town. He taught in parables, in stories and they spoke to me. It was a different way of teaching than I was accustomed to. Usually our religious leaders told us what to do and not to do. They even alluded to my mangled hand as evidence of some wrongdoing, some sin in my past. There I sat in the crowd when he looked at me. Suddenly he asked a question, but I did not hear it because he continued to stare at me. Come stand here, he was speaking to me! I was embarrassed, a man not working, a deformed hand, and a room filled with people. I stood before this man who said, Stretch out your hand. Was he mocking me? Could he not understand my pain, my despair in being useless? But I raised my arm and opened my hand. Did you hear that? I opened my hand! I felt the muscles tighten in my hand and arm, and they responded; life came back into them! I tell you this story because they arrested this man and crucified him. I know this because it was my job one Friday to roll a huge stone in front of a tomb. It was then I saw the body of Him who had given me back my life. One of the people standing nearby made the comment: He came that we might have life and have it more abundantly! I can never thank Him for what He did except to live my life for Him, who gave me this new life. I have heard stories that are hard to believe. Some say this man rose from the dead, that He is the Christ. I can only tell you: He gave me life.

Today's Reflection from Father Dave I have never closed a playground to children until now. I have locked gates at times because fresh cement or asphalt had bee...n poured. While I do have some priorities, I have always believed that the grounds are for our children. That is the lesson I learned from Fr. Smith when he gave me my first job of mowing the ballfield at our parish church. The reason he gave a 10-year-old this job is a story for another time, but I have been working for the church since then. Yet now the upper playground is locked and closed, in keeping with the spirit of this Shelter-in-Place. This slight obstacle did not stop two little ones yesterday during a downpour from trying out their homemade boats in the swale that runs by the rectory. Decked out from head to toe in raingear, they floated their wonderful creations down to the culvert, skipping alongside. I knew there must be an adult close by, so I went to investigate, and there was dad. Now he was not dressed in the same protective gear, but he was enjoying everything about this scene as I was. He asked, Is this okay? All I could do was to thank him for bringing some joy and laughter to this deserted landscape, and then I went back inside. (Mom would be proud that I did learn to come in from the rain.) It is difficult, this time of sheltering in place, as we put aside our needs to try and help the larger community. Some families have to learn how to live together 24/7; others struggle to live a solitary existence, and all live to protect one other. I do not know how these little ones, along with dad and mom, are coping in day-to-day living. Yet, in that sliver of time, I witnessed a family take a difficult and trying period in our history, and without knowing it, create a joyful moment for a man who locked the gates. I cannot wait for the day when the locks come off. It might be interesting to see just how far this padre can throw a padlock. In Faith, Hope, and Love, Father Dave

Today's Reflection from Father Dave Yesterday was strange! That is how I began my first reflection three weeks ago, at the cancelation of Sunday mass. I conclu...ded that I believe this will be our finest hour. Now three weeks later my tune has not changed, even though everything else seems to be changing daily. We moved into the big house instead of the chapel for live streaming of Palm Sunday, and with it came music. Keeping in mind the protocols for everyone's safety the question arose: How do we distribute palms? Thus began the most interesting Palm Sunday morning of my priesthood. When Bill, Fr. Samuel, and I walked out the front doors, a line of cars more than a block long stood waiting. This was the best kind of strange, and for the next two hours my heart, soul, and spirit were overflowing as our faith was alive and present in so many. Cars of family members, some returning after delivering to neighbors who could not get out, flowed by. In the cars were young people home from college, this being their big excursion outside for the weekend. Then there were the supplies. The amount of hot chocolate and food delivered was truly amazing. I mentioned to Bill, Now you see why it is so difficult to lose weight in this parish. People even dropped off their Sunday envelopes, and my makeshift palm distributor became a collection basket. It was a good morning. Later I gathered with my siblings, nephews, and nieces for Happy Hour, a tradition started by my parents. At 5:00 p.m. everyday my parents sat down with an Old Fashioned and put on some music, with a simple rule: kids could be seen but not heard. My little brother resurrected this tradition, and 32 screens filled up my chromebook as the family gathered. Finally technology came up with an invention that comes in handy with my family: the mute button! So dear friends, three weeks later and Sunday is still strange, but it is good for the times we are living in. Please be safe. In Faith, Hope, and Love, Father Dave

Today's Reflection from Father Dave Friday was difficult. Saturday came, and I did not take my morning walk to open the churches and could not write. Yes, at ti...mes darkness descends and I forget those words of Monsignor Clem McKenna: A priest must be a man of HOPE! Monsignor had been the Director of St. Vincent’s School for Boys and then a mentor and confidant of mine as I began my ministry at the same Treatment Center. I began these writings on the Ides of March when the church was closed to public celebrations of the Eucharist. At the time, my intent was to write hopefully uplifting reflections to chronicle this period in our lives. I used the great Thumper’s advice in that classic film, Bambi: If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. Saturday I could not find anything nice to say. When I did not send my early morning blog, my editor checked in and then responded to my reply: Hope is the antidote. (Aren’t you impressed that I have an editor?) A little later I received an email from another about the parable of the Four Candles which concluded the greatest of these is Love, but the flame of Hope should never go out of your life. Trying to clear my head, I walked outside and wondered why so much dirt, leaves, and twigs were on the doorstep. Looking up I saw a newly made bird’s nest over the doorway, which I am told is a sign of hope and new life. My comment to the Lord: Enough already, I get it; I must be a man of Hope. So today as we begin the holiest of weeks a little reflection on a painting by Holman Hunt, The Light of the World. In this painting the artist depicts Jesus standing outside a door with a lantern in His raised hand. If you look closely, you realize there is no doorknob. It seems to suggest that Christ the Light desires to enter our homes, our lives, but you and I need to open the door for Him. This my friends is not the faith we profess. If there is anything we learn during these next days and weeks ahead is that a closed and locked door does not stop the Lord from entering. When the disciples would hide away in fear behind locked doors, the Risen Christ still came to them. The Lord’s first words, Peace be with you. When times are difficult, when we find we can no longer help ourselves or open the door to let the light in, God can still come through and breathe peace into our lives. We will walk through some difficult times together this week, but we are fortunate for we know the end of the story. Jesus stood in their midst and said, Peace be with you. In Faith, Hope, and Love, Father Dave

Palm Sunday palm pickup is tomorrow!

While parishioner donations are usually taken up in the collection during offertory at Mass, during the shelter in place you can make sacrificial offerings elec...tronically. Use your debit or credit card to make an online donation to St. Charles. Go here to sign up: https://www.eservicepayments.com/cgi-bin/Vanco_ver3.vps You can also send donations via online banking. When setting up your recurring payments, please indicate the "pay to" as: St. Charles Church 880 Tamarack Avenue San Carlos, CA 94070 phone number (650) 591-7349 Thank you for your continued support to St. Charles Church!

Today's Reflection from Father Dave Dear friends can you help me? I am stranded in London; my credit cards, currency, and passport were stolen, and I need to ge...t home. Would you be so kind to send some financial help until I can get back to the United States and straighten things out? Blessings, Fr. David Ghiorso Many of us have received messages like this; our computers have been compromised, and some email addresses have been used to try and solicit funds. My staff and friends who received this message notified me and commented: We knew it was not you by how you ended the note. It seems that blessings was a dead giveaway the email wasn’t from me. When I began these reflections almost three weeks ago it was to try and speak about my experiences of the presence of God during a very unique period of life. I wanted to focus on those wonderful virtues of Faith, Hope, and Love. This week has proven to be a challenge because a great deal of conversation has been about finances: how to keep the parishes of St. Matthias and St. Charles going as our revenue streams are but a trickle? Our preschool and K-8 programs continue but have their challenges as families are also in a state of limbo, with employment and incomes in question. I was being encouraged by our parishes’ Finance Councils to write or speak to our fiscal needs, yet I have felt uncomfortable to ask for help during these uncertain times. So my morning walk was not as peaceful, and to top it off my new headlamp started to blink for some reason. It had been so dependable these last few weeks. Then as one would say, the light bulb went on in my head. I hadn’t put it in the charger since this all began almost 3 weeks ago, and the blinking was simply a reminder that it needs a charge. Sometimes the Lord gives me little nudges, and sometimes I think He uses a Mack truck to make His point when I am a little slow to comprehend. On Sundays we build the ability to share our resources through the collection. It is not a payment for mass; it is an offering back to God from what we have received in life. I do appreciate those who have continued to support our parishes, and some by very unique and funny ways. So with this reflection, I do make an appeal to you, my friends, for assistance in this time, asking each to consider what you are able to give to your parish. When times are difficult we make choices that reflect what we truly believe. We give in Faith that things will get better. We give in Hope that we come out of this time stronger and more the person God wants us to be. We give in Love for one another. Blessings, The Wandering Padre Father Dave

Today's Reflection from Father Dave The advantages of walking in the early morning darkness (disadvantages will be in another post): I get to test out a Christm...as gift, a headlamp, and also I have the opportunity to see the sunrise, a welcome sight to each new day. The headlamp gives just enough light for me not to trip over uneven surfaces and for others to see me, which is good for the Wandering Padre who does not use sidewalks. So I consider it a very good present. Using the lamp yesterday reminded me of a passage from Pope Francis in the encyclical Lumen Fidei: Faith is not a light which scatters all our darkness, but a lamp which guides our steps in the night and suffices for the journey. To those who suffer, God does not provide arguments which explain everything; rather, his response is that of an accompanying presence, a history of goodness which touches every story of suffering and opens up a ray of light. My headlamp can be placed on a brighter level, and it brings even more of my surroundings into view, but it does not remove the darkness. Which brings me to the other advantage of walking in the early morning hours, the sunrise. Gradually a light that does dispel the darkness begins to rise. So it is a sign of hope for a new day and new possibilities. The Easter Vigil that we celebrate in just over a week from now, begins with the lighting of a single candle that leads us in a procession of hope. That light is passed from one person to another and the proclamation is sung: Light of Christ. Our response to this is simply, Thanks be to God. So we live in faith; the sun will rise, and yes the darkness will be overcome. This entire Lenten season, and maybe what is going on around us, is built on faith and hope. We know that Easter will come; the Light will break into the world and overcome the darkness. God came to save His people. These days when we are practicing social distancing it is a good time to practice spiritual closeness, walking with the Risen Son, who accompanies us even in the darkest of times. We are a people of faith; we hope for that time when we return to normal. In Faith, Hope, and Love, Your Wandering Padre Father Dave

Today's Reflection from Father Dave Archbishop, when does this assignment start? was the question I asked of Archbishop Levada 15 years ago. April 1st, came... the reply to which I responded, How appropriate that my tenure as pastor should begin on April Fools Day. He concurred. Sitting in my rectory office on this auspicious occasion I am struck by the fact that the only sounds coming from this vast estate are of the cement saw and jackhammer. The plan had been to repave the parking lot during the summer and try and work around the daily activity of the church. This Shelter-in-Place scenario presented another option. Do it now while there is no activity. Yes, let it be a sign of HOPE that eventually people will return, and life will continue. So it is music to my ears. My musings therefore are easily distracted. This normally happens when power tools are involved, so today I leave you with another’s words, Karl Rahner. I once took a semester reading course on Rahner, so might as well use some of it. These words were inscribed on my ordination holy card, and I look to them often. The priest is not an angel sent from heaven. He is a man chosen from among men, a member of the Church, a Christian. Remaining man and Christian, he begins to speak to you the Word of God. This word is not his own, no, he comes to you because God has told him to proclaim God’s word. Perhaps he has not entirely understood it himself. Perhaps he adulterates it. But he believes, and despite his fears he knows that he must communicate God’s word to you. For must not some of us say something about God, about eternal life, about the majesty of grace in our sanctified being; Must not some one of us speak of sin, the judgement and mercy of God? So my dear friends, pray for him, carry him so that he might be able to sustain others By bringing to them the mystery of God’s love revealed in Christ Jesus. I must say that these years have been "the best of times and the worst of times." (apologies to Charles Dickens) Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. (Lou Gehrig) WIth quotes from Rahner, Dickens, and Gehrig, there’s not much else to say except: You are all part of Archbishop Levada’s April Fool’s Day joke. In Faith, Hope, and Love, Father Dave