St. Philip Church, Dallas Oregon

03/25/2026

03/24/2026

March 23, Little Black Lenten Book
Martyrs of Nagasaki
In 1597, Toyotomi Hideyoshi ordered the crucifixion of 26 Catholics in Nagasaki, Japan.
At the time, Christianity was growing in the country. This worried the imperial minister who thought the missionaries may be leading the way for European invaders. Suspicion grew when a Spanish ship carrying weapons was seized near the coast.
Hideyoshi ordered arrests. One of those taken captive was Paul Miki, a gifted preacher and evangelist. Paul came from a wealthy samurai family but traded the comforts of life to join the Jesuits. He was studying to become a priest at the time.
Soldiers arrested Paul along with other Catholic men, women, and children-some priests and laypeople. Three were boys. The soldiers forced them to walk more than 600 miles in the bitter cold. Despite the conditions, they prayed and sang hymns.
When they arrived in Nagasaki, soldiers nailed them to crosses and stabbed them with spears. As they died, the prisoners called out, "Jesus, Mary!"
Paul Miki preached from his cross and forgave the men who killed him. Paul was honored to die for Christ.
"I am a true Japanese," Paul said. "The only reason for my being killed is that I have taught the doctrine of Christ...I am telling only the truth before I die...I hope my blood will fall on my fellow men as a fruitful rain."
Authorities hoped the public display would scare others. It had the opposite effect-it gave them courage. A few years later, persecution forced Japanese Catholics to practice the Faith in secret for 250 years.
Blessed Pope Pius IX canonized the Martyrs of Nagasaki in 1862. The site where they died is known as "Martyrs' Hill."

They pressed into service a passer-by, Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross. (Mk 15:21)

It was customary to take a zigzagged route to the site of crucifixion to make a spectacle of the condemned criminal. Jerusalem's streets were narrow and winding and, because of Passover, very crowded. This is the first mention of "the cross" in Mark's Gospel. Normally, just the cross beam was carried. The vertical beam was already fixed in place at the site.
An ominous chord is sounded in that Jesus didn't carry his own cross, as was customary. Apparently he had been beaten so badly in the scourging, he was unable to do this.
Think about Simon of Cyrene. It wasn't as though the Roman soldiers had asked for a volunteer and Simon had raised his hand saying, "I'll do it." He was simply passing by and out of the blue he was "pressed into service" to carry the cross.
A lot of crosses come that way. Why this? Why me? Simon should be the patron saint for these kinds of crosses. He is given no introduction. No farewell. He is never to be seen again.
He carried the cross, no knowing why, or where he was going. But he wasn't lost. He was following the Lord.
Spend some quiet time with the Lord.

03/23/2026

March 22, Little Black Lenten Book
Faith Behind the Iron Curtain
The seventh child in a family of 13, Walter Ciszek was a tough kid who sometimes got into trouble. Later, he surprised those who knew him when he announced plans to become a Jesuit priest.
Born in Pennsylvania in 1904 to Polish immigrants, Walter began studying for the priesthood in the 1920s. At the time, Pope Pius XI was asking seminarians to prepare for secret work in Russia. Walter felt that invitation was for him.
After his ordination in 1937, Fr. Ciszek was sent to Poland. When war broke out, he crossed into Russia with fake identification papers. Fr. Ciszek worked in secret but was arrested and accused of being a Vatican spy.
Father Ciszek spent the next five years in a prison in Moscow. He suffered solitary confinement, starvation rations, beatings, and interrogations. After that, he was sent to a gulag-the name for a Russian labor camp-where he labored every day in freezing weather of Siberia.
Despite harsh conditions, Fr. Ciszek celebrated Mass in secret. He baptized, heard confessions, comforted the sick, and prayed with the dying.
In 1963-after 23 years in the Soviet Union, most of them spent in captivity-Fr. Ciszek was release in a prisoner exchange. President John F. Kennedy helped negotiate the exchange shortly before he was assassinatned.
Father Ciszek died in 1984 with his rosary in his hand. The last words written in his diary were: "I have given all for you, my Lord." Father Ciszek is a Servant of God on the pathway to possible sainthood. His books and writings share details of a life given over completely to the will of God.

Jesus Raises Lazarus
Today's Sunday Gospel is the familiar story of the raising of Lazarus.
It contains the belief that makes all the difference, the belief that the Lord can pull life out of any situation!
Sometimes we feel about the Lord as Martha did (and you can kind of catch it in what she says to him: "Thanks for coming, Lord...a little late"): "We know you're with us, Lord, but where were you when we needed you?"
But Jesus says to each of us (as he may have said to Martha): "No matter when I seem to get there, I've been with you all the time, anyways. No matter what you are experiencing, I can pull life out of it. I can do that with your sins...things that are your fault. I can do it when things happen because of the sins and failings of others. I can do it when it's the result of people's stupidity (and your own included). I can pull life out of anything."
That is the lesson of Lazarus' rising, and if we can believe that, then it makes all the difference. We never need to lose hope. We can always put our faith in him. We can respond to difficult circumstances (even sin and violence) his way, and know that he can pull life out of it.
It's a beautiful belief. As we approach the great feast of Easter, we can catch the spirit of this Gospel and live this belief. We can let it touch our whole life and brighten up our faces and help us live in the sure hope that the Lord is right next to us.
And that he can pull life out of any situation.
Spend some quiet time with the Lord.

03/22/2026

March 21, Little Black Lenten Book
A Sign of the Passion
At the end of Holy Thursday Mass, something deeply symbolic takes place. The alter is cleared. Candles are taken away. Cloths are folded. Everything is removed from the altar.
It always happens in silence.
This simple ritual is called the "stripping of the Altar."
It reminds us of how Jesus was stripped of his clothes before the crucifixion.
The tradition of stripping the altar began many centuries ago, around the 600s. At first, it was a simple way to prepare the church for Good Friday. Over time, it became a sign of sorrow and reverence. By the Middle Ages, it was clearly linked to the Passion of Christ.
Today, the removal of all items is still done quietly. There is no final blessing at the end of Holy Thursday Mass, no closing song. We leave in silence to more deeply enter into the sacred days.
We recall how Jesus was left abandoned and alone.

And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak, dressed him in his own clothes, and led him out to crucify him. (Mk 15:20)
Having amused themselves at the prisoner's expense, it is now time to go to Calvary, the place where victims were currently being crucified.
The troops are just carrying out their orders. No need to think about the justice or injustice of it all. It was part of the system and theirs was to do and not ask why. That's how orderly societies operate. You do what you're told.
Servant of God Archbishop Helder Camara of Olinda and Recife, Brazil (who died in 1999), once said: "When I helped the poor they called me a saint. When I started to ask why there were poor they called me a Communist."
It's not easy.
Spend some quiet time with the Lord.

03/21/2026

March 20th, Little Black Lenten Book
Why Purple for Lent?
When you walk into a Catholic church during Lent or Advent, you see a lot of purple. It's on the altar, the priest's vestments, and sometimes even covering the cross.
But why purple?
The Gospels of Mark and John say soldiers placed a purple robe on Jesus to mock him. Purple was the color of kings-and outward sign of position and power. The soldiers knew this, and intended instead to use the color to make fun of and humiliate Jesus. For that reason, over time, the color purple became linked to Jesus' suffering and the sorrow of the Cross.
In the Church today, purple is associated with penance. It's a reminder to turn our hearts back to God. That's why we see it during Lent and Advent-season of penance and preparation.
On the fifth Sunday of Lent, some churches cover crosses with purple cloths. Crosses are uncovered at the end of service on Good Friday.

(The first step in ex*****on by crucifixion has already taken place, though not detailed in any Gospel. Jesus was scourged, a brutal whipping that was actually part of killing the victim. In what follows, we should picture a bloodied and beaten Jesus)
The soldiers led him away inside the palace, that is, the praetorium, and assembled the whole cohort.
They clothed him in purple and, weaving a crown of thorns, placed it on him. They began to salute him with, "Hail, King of the Jews!" and kept striking his head with a reed and spitting upon him. They knelt before him in homage. (Mk 15:16-19)

Jesus is treated like a king-the purple, the crown, the words of salute, the homage. How ironic. What the soldiers think is buffoonery is actually the truth.
And so often happens, verbal abuse qu**ky turns into physical abuse. They hit him on the head, the same head the nameless woman had anointed at the beginning of the Passion.
Jesus, after the brutal scourging, is almost helpless. He is undressed and then dressed again-just like a little child would be.
He knows what it is like to be helpless and feel as though one has lost dignity.
How I treat people who are incapacitated-in any way-is the measure of my love for the Lord.
Spend some quiet time with the Lord.

03/20/2026

March 19th, Little Black Lenten Book
"I wish I could persuade everyone to be devoted to this glorious saint, for I have great experience of the blessings which he can obtain from God." -St. Teresa of Avila

A Quiet Man
Every year on March 19, the Church honors St. Joseph, spouse of the Virgin Mary and foster father of Jesus.
It took some time, however, for the Church to fully appreciate St. Joseph's significant role in salvation history, especially as a powerful intercessor.
As early as the 800s, the faithful began remembering St. Joseph on this day. In 1480, Pope Sixtus IV officially added his feast to the Roman calendar. Later, Pope Gregory XV declared March 19 an obligatory feast day.
In 1870, Pope Pius IX declared St. Joseph the Patron of the Universal Church. Saint Pope John XXIII added Joseph's name to the Roman Canon in 1962. Then, in 1969, Saint Pope Paul VI raised the feast to the rank of a solemnity and gave it its full title: Saint Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In 2013, Pope Francis included Joseph's name in more Eucharistic Prayers.
Joseph does not speak a single word in Scripture, but he listens carefully. He obeys God without hesitation. He protects Mary and Jesus with quiet strength.
Joseph worked as a Tekton, a skilled craftsman-likely in wood or stone or both. He lived a humble, faithful life.

Saint Joseph is remembered under many titles, including: Light of Patriarchs, Chaste Guardian of the Virgin, Diligent Protector of Christ, Head of the Holy Family, Mirror of Patience, Glory of Home Life, Guardian of Virgins, Hope of the Sick, Patron of they Dying, Terror of Demons, Protector of Holy Church.

So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas to them and, after he had Jesus scourged, handed him over to be crucified. (Mk 15:15)

Cicero once said that the word "cross" should be far from a civilized person's thoughts.
It was the most terrible form of ex*****on known in antiquity.
There was a formula by which this decision to crucify was rendered by Roman judges. The official language was Latin, and the judge would say something like: Ibis in crucem ("You will go to the cross"). Those were the most chilling words a condemned criminal could hear.
Mark says that Jesus is "handed over to be crucified." This is part of a chain of "handing-overs" one after the other, into unfriendly hands. It began when Judas handed him over to the chief priests...who handed him over to Pilate...who handed him over to the ex*****oners. In the end, Jesus will hand himself over to the Father in death. At last, he will be received into loving hands.
Those same loving hand await me-not only at death, but at every Mass when I place myself on the alter and join with Christ as he gives himself into his Father's hands.
Spend some quiet time with the Lord.

03/19/2026

March 18th, Little Black Lenten Book
A Scapular's Price
Isidore Bankanja was about 18 years old when he met Catholic missionaries and asked to be baptized. Born in Belgian Congo in the late 1800s, Isidore worked as bricklayer and farmhand.
He loved the Catholic faith and talked so much about it that he often was mistaken for a catechist. He especially love the Blessed Mother. He prayed the rosary and always wore a brown scapular (two devotional cloths connected by string) around his neck that he referred to as "Mary's habit."
Hoping to find more Catholics to be in community with, Isidore went to work on a rubber plantation run by Belgian colonists. He discovered they despised Catholics and the native African people. Although he tried to leave, he was prohibited.
The Belgian colonists ordered Isidore to stop sharing the faith and to remove his scapular. Isidore refused. For that, they flogged him twice. The second time he received more that 100 blows from a whip with nails on the end.
The beating left Isidore's back ripped open, some bones even exposed. He was chained up in a hut, unable to move. When word came of an upcoming government inspection, Isidore was forced to leave. He hid on the side of the road until they saw the inspector.
The inspector later wrote, "I saw a man come from the forest with his back torn apart by deep, festering, malodorous wounds, covered with filth, assaulted by flies."
Although the inspector wanted to help, it was too late.
Isidore suffered in great pain for six months before dying on August 15th, 1909. Before he died, Isidore said he forgave those who beat him and promised to pray for them in heaven.
He was beatified by St. Pope John Paul II in 1994.

Pilate again said to them in reply, "Then what do you want me to do with the man you call the king of the Jews?" They shouted back, "Crucify him."
Pilate said to them, "Why? What evil has he done?" But they only shouted louder, "Crucify him." (Mk 15:12-13)
Pilate gives the crowd a choice between Jesus or Barabbas. After the crowd chooses Barabbas, Pilate must decide what to do with Jesus. He ducks the decision and leaves it to the crowd.
Their response: "Crucify him." (This is the first time in Mark's Passion that the word "crucify" is spoken aloud.) When Pilate asks them why, they shout even louder, "Crucify him."
Mob psychology. Perhaps one person started it by shouting "Crucify him" and the rest picked it up.
Popular opinion will prevail.
There are modern equivalents to the shout "crucify him" and it can set public opinion moving in a bad direction, especially on human life issues.
It's not always easy to stand against the tide.
Spend some quiet time with the Lord.

03/18/2026

March 17th, Little Black Lenten Book
Saint Patrick and the Easter Flame
According to legend, shortly after returning to Ireland, St. Patrick climbed a very high hill-known as The Hill of Slaine-and lit a fire for the Easter Vigil that could be seen for miles around. That fire, many believe, changed Ireland forever.
In those days, it was customary to light a bonfire at the Easter Vigil Mass in honor of the Lord Jesus. However, at that time in Ireland, the king had strict rules that no fire could be lit before he lit his own fire to the pagan gods. Breaking that rule was punishable by death.
When the king learned of Patrick's fire, he became enraged. He sent his guards to put the fire out, but it could not be extinguished-despite their efforts, the fire continued to burn.
Even more amazing, according to some reports, the guards were so moved by Patrick's sharing of the Gospel that they converted to Christianity on the spot. Eventually, the king spoke to Patrick. He, too was moved and granted Patrick permission to continue preaching.
The fire St. Patrick lit that night was symbolic of Christ-the true Light of the World-who overcomes the darkness. Many believe this event marked the start of Ireland's conversion to the Catholic Faith.

Now on the occasion of the feast he used to release to them one prisoner whom they requested. A man called Barabbas was then in prison along with the rebels who had committed murder in a rebellion.
The crowd came forward and began to ask him to do for them as he was accustomed. Pilate answered, "Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?" For he knew that it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed him over. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. (Mk. 15:6-11)
Jesus was..
betrayed by Judas
arrested by an armed band
condemned by the highest religious court in the land
mocked and taunted
denied by Peter
accused falsely before Pilate
and now is at the mercy of "the crowd."
In Mark's account, once Jesus is arrested in Gethsemane, no one will say a single kind word, or do a single kind deed on his behalf. He is alone the rest of the way. On the cross-in his humanity-he will even feel abandoned by God, the Father.
Ever feel that way yourself? Know anyone who might feel that way? A call, a card, a visit might help.
Spend some quiet time with the Lord.

03/16/2026

Todays Homily

th Lent A
I shall never forget. It’s the year 2002 – and as I entered the elevator and reached for the button that would take me to the Doernbecher Neo-Natal unit -- I noticed the little raised dots which designate letters that help the blind find their way -- and I was reminded once again of the history of those little dots. It is a rather interesting story about what prompted Louis Braille – to devise this method of printing and writing. In the year 1818, Louis was a nine-year-old boy whose father was a harness maker in France. The boy loved to watch his father work with leather. “Someday father,” said Louis “I want to be a harness maker just like you. “Why not start now?” said his father, who took a piece of leather and drew a design on it. “Now, my son, “he said “take the hole-puncher and hammer and follow the design. Be careful that you don’t hit your hand.” The excited young boy began to work but, when he hit the hole-puncher, it flew out of his hand and pierced his eye. He immediately lost the sight of that eye. A few years later, his other eye failed. Louis was now totally blind.
One day, Louis was sitting in the family garden and a friends handed him a pine cone. As Louis ran his fingers over the pine cone, an idea came to him. He began to create an alphabet of raised dots on paper so that blind people could feel the letters and read. In this way Louis Braille opened up a whole new world for the blind and it came out of a tragic accident. It’s not good to be blind or to suffer from any afflictions, but we know that God can use people like Louis Braille or the blind man in today’s Gospel to bring enormous good to others. God can be gloried, and we can be richly blessed through suffering and pain I said that over and over to myself -- again and again -- as the elevator reached the 12th floor and I entered the room. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. This wasn’t supposed to happen not to them anyway. My friends and fellow parishioners at St. Thomas More Parish had done everything right. Made the intelligent decisions. Selected the best care. She gave up alcohol, coffee, and sugar. She exercised, she meditated, did yoga and listened to Mozart She drank milk until she felt the urge to moo. She ate so many veggies that she had dreams and visions of Haggen Daus Dove Bars and double fudge brownies.
He could rattle off child-care facts. And knew exactly how many
minutes it took to get to the hospital both with and without rain.
That’s why it wasn’t supposed to be this way. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “Whose fault is it?” “Who is to blame?” She whispered these words over and over as we stood there and looked at the fragile life lying before us. Little Timothy Jr. was cradled in a nest
of tubes instead of her arms. His transparent skin was crisscrossed with wires. She searched her memory for some forgotten vitamin—a toxic exposure – one careless moment. He wondered if the doctors or the nurses were somehow to blame. Why is this happening? Why is God letting this happen? Whose sin is it?
Whose fault? We ask these questions every time we are confronted with a mystery we can’t solve. We ask these questions each time we are faced with a tragedy we just can’t explain. Whose sin? Someone must have messed up. It simply has to be someone’s fault, right?
Because we’re really not comfortable with the alternative - that there may be no easy answers - that sometimes - bad things do indeed happen to good people. We’re not really comfortable unless we can pinpoint a reason and assign some blame. Cause and effect. Theory and proof. The wages of sin. We want something or someone to point to when things go wrong even if that someone turns out to be ourselves. Because it hard to believe that God’s glory can be seen in anything that we find painful. It’s hard to believe that God’s love can be found in anything we find horrifying or just plain wrong. Sooooooo…. Who sinned? Jesus and the disciples passed by, they saw a man blind from birth. And the very first question the disciples asked was: “Rabbi, who sinned -- this man or his parents that he was born blind?” Jesus, tell us what happened? tell us -- who can we blame? Tell us --who is at fault? Tell us -- so that we can all feel better – so that we can feel safer.
Jesus’ reply challenges us to ask a different questions.
It challenges us to see the world in a different way rather than asking “who sinned?” “Who messed up?” “Whose fault is this?”
Jesus invites us to ask, “Where is God in this situation?” “Where can we find God here?” Rather than looking at the appearance Jesus invites us to look into the heart. The neighbors in the Gospel who asked, “How were your eyes opened?” somehow managed to stumble upon the right question! “How are your eyes opened?” Throughout our lives we are challenged not with the questions, “Who sinned?” “Who messed up?” “Whose fault is this?” but with the deeper questions of “How are your eyes opened?” “How is God made visible?” These are not questions with easy answers. These are not questions that remove our pain or protect us from tragedy.
These question won’t dry the tears of parents whose dreams may have just died. But they are questions that will point us in another direction. They will point us to the One who offers to lead us from darkness into light. They will point us to the One who anoints us and heals us.
How are your eyes opened? If we continue to ask that question, we might just be amazed at what we begin to see. The blind man in our Gospel did – and so can you. Louis Braille did and so did Timothy and Beth and I. Timothy Jr. spent several months struggling with heat issues and variety of health complications. And after his very long ordeal and a lot of tears and prayers on our part, as St. Luke once said about Jesus: “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.
For you see Timothy Jr. went on to graduate from St Thomas More
School, Jesuit High School. Santa Clara University and now attends
Georgetown University School of Medicine - Department of pediatrics. As a result of his early health and life struggles, 24 years later he is now studying to be a Pediatric Cardiologist so that one day – just as in the case of Louis Braille – God can be glorified and others can be richly blessed through suffering and pain.
Thanks be to God.

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03/16/2026

March 15th, Little Black Lenten Book
Prayer of St. Augustine
Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit,
That my thoughts may all be holy.
Act in me, O Holy Spirit,
That my work, too, may be holy.
Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit,
That I love but what is holy.
Stregthen me, O Holy Spirit,
To defend all that is holy.
Guard me, then, O Holy Spirit,
That I always may be holy.
-Holy Spirit Prayer of St. Augustine

The man born blind
There are two ways to approach religion. One is to see it as a fixed set of truths, boxed in, set, a pat hand.
Another way is to see it as a call to believe in truths that eye has not fully seen nor ear fully heard. It is a call to ongoing discovery that challenges, consoles, and sometimes discomforts.
Today's Gospel about the miracle of the man born blind starkly contrasts those two approaches. The Pharisees stand pat. They are disciples of Moses and everything has been set. They are not open to any new discovery, any new insight, any new way of looking at things.
The other approach is represented by, of all people, the blind man. He is the only one who can say; "I don't know." He is the only one really open to discovery and to the eye-opener that Jesus is.
Sometimes it's hard to resist the temptation to approach religion as something fixed and finished. It seems to involve less risk and less pain. That is the attraction of fundamentalism.
but to be a disciple of the Lord is to walk behind him, turn corners, and make discoveries. The disciples were always doing that.
We have to open ourselves up to the freshness of the Word as it is proclaimed in our times.
Our entire life is meant to be a process of opening our eyes, widening our vision. We are called to imitate the blind man, not the Pharisees.