Mike Landry: Catholic speaker, writer, & music minister in Alberta, Canada HomepageMike Landry: Catholic speaker, writer, & music minister in Alberta, Canada

Reflections

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Practicing Catholicism during Pandemic Measures

An announcement came out late yesterday afternoon from the Alberta Bishops regarding what the Church is doing during these strange and difficult times.  In the Archdiocese of Edmonton, Archbishop Smith released a letter explaining what’s going to happen (and some of the rationale behind it) as the Church is doing her part to comply with the directives from Alberta Health Services.  Among the highlights:

  • Public Masses have been canceled until further notice.  Because most priests say Mass everyday, Masses will still be celebrated but won’t be open to the public.
  • We have been dispensed from our Sunday obligation for as long as these measures are in place. 
  • Those preparing to celebrate Sacraments (both kids and adults) are seeing their preparation paused. This includes those in the RCIA program who were planning to be Baptized/Confirmed at the Easter Vigil.

All of this might leave you wondering how do we maintain the practice of our faith during these times?  Here’s a few thoughts to help you get started:

  • Sunday Masses are being streamed from numerous sources. This includes my own parish at Holy Trinity, where Fr. Paul Moret will be streaming at 9am on Sunday morning (see www.trinitycatholic.net) and St. Joseph’s Basilica in Edmonton who will be streaming their Mass with Archbishop Smith at 10:30am each Sunday morning.  You can view it on the Archdiocese’s Facebook site at: http://Facebook.com/archedmonton (and will be available to watch later in the day as well.)
  • Word on Fire is streaming Masses daily with either Bishop Robert Barron or Fr. Steve Grunow at https://www.wordonfire.org/daily-mass/

Beyond Mass, what can you do?

  • If you don’t have a habit of prayer, start one.  Make it simple but consistent.  My pastor often encourages students to start with something small in the morning and something small immediately before bed – but make it something you can commit to, and can actually do.  Things like a decade of the Rosary, the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, or even just an ‘Our Father.’  By doing so you’re putting signposts in your day to remember that we don’t face this challenge alone.
    • One of the things you could do is to spend some time readings scripture.  There’s an app from Novalis called “Living with Christ” (iOS/Android) that has the daily readings- this is a great place to start.  Alternatively, a you could read your way through a Gospel, one chapter a day.
  • Many parish churches remain open during the day if you want to stop in or a moment of peace and prayer. Likewise, if you or someone in your family needs the Confession, the Sacrament of the sick, or a chance to talk thing through with a priest, you can contact your parish and setup an appointment.

As a last note, when you participate in the Mass remotely at the time of Communion it is appropriate to make what’s called “an act of spiritual communion.”  Basically, you’re uniting yourself to God through prayer when you’re unable to be united with Him by receiving Holy Communion.  Here are two options you might consider:

I wish, my Lord, to receive you with the purity, humility, and devotion with which your most holy Mother received you, with the spirit and fervor of the saints. Amen.

St. Josemaria Escriva

My Jesus, I believe that You are present in the Most Holy Sacrament.
I love You above all things, and I desire to receive You into my soul.
Since I cannot at this moment receive You sacramentally, come at least spiritually into my heart. I embrace You as if You were already there and unite myself wholly to You. Never permit me to be separated from You. Amen.

St. Alphonsus Liguori

As we journey through these days, may we not forget that the God who loves us remains with us. Pray for all in leadership (civic leaders, medical authorities, and those in our Church), for those most impacted by Covid-19 – both due to illness, and those negatively impacted by the measures in place, and for one another as we navigate through these trying times.

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Deacon Pat Hessel’s Homily from SPA Graduation 2019

The following is the text of the homily Deacon Pat Hessel of Holy Trinity Parish delivered to the St. Peter the Apostle Catholic High School Class of 2019 on Saturday, June 2, 2019:

            Many cultures around the world have initiation rites for men and women.  An initiation rite is sometimes called a rite of passage: a ritual that people go through that marks a change in their status in society.  Initiation rites are usually linked to reproductive maturity, representing the movement from childhood or adolescence to adulthood.

            Those being initiated are sometimes challenged physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  The challenges are not necessarily meant to test the abilities of the person.  Rather, the whole initiation process is a quest of self-discovery.  The initiates are forced to discover who they really are.  They often face very dangerous situations.  One of the purposes is to show them that, in some circumstances, they are powerless.  So, while the initiation occurs at a time in their lives when they will become increasingly powerful members of their society, they have this experience of powerlessness, in hopes that the wisdom that comes from this experience will prevent them from abusing the power that will come to them.

            The initiation rite ushers them into a new position in their society.  Some of our aboriginal groups in Canada still have initiation rites, but for the most part we don’t have this experience.  And no, that wild beer-bash on your 18th birthday doesn’t count as an initiation rite!  In our society, I think today – graduation day – is the closest we have to a rite of initiation.  As a graduate, you will be viewed differently by society.  But will you view yourselves differently?  Do you see this as a milestone?  Does this change anything?

            In your retreat, Mike Landry used the image of a blank canvas, suggesting that your life to this point has been about shaping the frame and stretching the canvas – getting things ready.  And the rest of your life will be about creating a work of art on that blank canvas.  It’s a wonderful image, and it does make your graduation look a lot like an initiation rite.  In an important way, your life can change, but that’s up to you.  Today could be the start of an amazing new journey, or just another day.

            As I said, one of the things that happens in an initiation rite is that the initiates, through the challenges they endure, discover who they really are.  So, for you, that means questions like: “Who am I apart from the expectations of my parents – my teachers?”  And as you take more control over your life, you ask: “What things are important for me?  How will I fill that blank canvas – the canvas I’ve prepared with the help of so many people?  Am I really ready to grow up yet, to take responsibility for myself?”

            I don’t pretend to be an artist (it was my worst class in school), but often, the artist begins a painting by laying out the background for that painting.  The background then, anchors the painting.  And I think it’s important – actually critical – that you consider carefully, what will be the background – the anchor of the work of art that will be your life.  For some people, their main purpose or goal is the accumulation of money, for others, the accumulation of things, or a successful career.  For some, it’s marriage and family.  You can understand that whatever forms the background of your painting – whatever anchors your life – will have a profound effect on your decisions, your actions – the course your life will take.

            In the first reading today, Saint Paul told the Ephesians: “I pray that according to the riches of [God’s] glory, [God] may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through [the] Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts…as you are being rooted and grounded in love.”  So, for Paul, the background – the anchor – was love.  He described it as: “…the love of Christ that surpasses all knowledge.”

            And Jesus said something similar in the Gospel that we just heard: “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.”  When we hear the words: “abide in my love,” we can, again, envision the painting that is our life set against this background of love.  And then, the primary motivation of our life is that, as Jesus said: “…you love one another as I have loved you.”  And he said that he wanted us to base our lives on love, in his words: “…so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.”  Doing this, loving one another as Jesus loved us, doesn’t get in the way of career or family, or material comforts.  It simply anchors all of these parts of our lives to the love of God.

            I think it’s important that each of you considers where God, and the love of God, fits into the work of art that will be your life.  Will God be the background – the anchor, the touchstone?  Will your decisions and actions always refer back to Jesus’ words: “…love one another as I have loved you?”  Or will God show up in your painting only intermittently, like when you get married, if you do get married: “Got to do that in church.”  Or when your children, if you eventually have them, need to be baptized: “Got to do that in church.”  Or when your loved ones pass from this world to the next: “Got to do that in church.”

            Do you see what I’m asking?  How will God appear in your picture?  Will God be the anchor of your artwork, or just a minor detail here and there, or not at all?”  I hope that for each of you, “not at all” is not an option, but increasingly the world seems quite happy proceeding without even acknowledging the love of God – even the existence of God.  But, you know, whether we understand it or not, God IS the anchor for all of our lives.  The real question is whether and to what extent we realize it, and how that realization affects us each day.  You’ve all attended Catholic school for a number of years.  You cannot be ignorant about the message of Jesus – the message of love.  The question is what you will do with that knowledge.

            Elsewhere in Saint Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians, he says: “Let us, then, be children no longer, carried about by every wind of doctrine…Rather, let us profess the truth in love, and grow into the full maturity of Christ the head…Through him the whole body grows, and…builds itself up in love.”

            Today can be just another day for you, or it can be the beginning of a new and intentional way of living in the world; intentionally showing to yourself and others the love that God has shown you, and will continue to show you.  Your canvas is waiting.  You are the artist.  Create a true work of art – a work of art anchored in God’s love.

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Ancient Homily for Holy Saturday

Photo credit: Johan & Natasja on Flickr (used under Creative Commons copyright license)
Photo credit: Johan & Natasja on Flickr (used under Creative Commons copyright license)

Liturgically speaking, Holy Saturday is the quietest day of the year – the time between Jesus’ death, and his resurrection which takes place at the Easter Vigil, technically Easter Sunday. Holy Saturday has always seemed to be such a quiet day in the midst of a very busy week – especially when I try to put myself into the shoes of the apostles, who would have distinctly felt the emptiness and loneliness of Jesus’ death most profoundly.  The following is the text of an ancient homily from Holy Saturday as found in the Liturgy of the Hours – and is one of the most beautiful explanations I’ve found for the silence of this day:

What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.

[Read more…] about Ancient Homily for Holy Saturday

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mikeisthird.com: New Name, Same Site

Please update your bookmarks, as I’ve moved from thirdplaceproject.com to mikeisthird.com. If you arrived here looking for answers on a specific topic, feel free to use the menu above or the search box below. Read on to hear why I’ve made the change:

It’s been nearly 22 years since I first embraced the call to serve God in some form of youth ministry. Over that time, I’ve spoken and sung at summer camps, youth groups, retreats, parish missions, youth rallies, and in schools. For about half of that time, I’ve sought to maintain a visible, online presence. That’s why in 2008, I launched the original version of this website – iamthird.ca.

There were a variety of reasons why this name was chosen: largely, a desire to summarize our life’s work as Catholic Christians: first of all, learning to love God “…with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37) and second, “to love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39). It was these commandments of Jesus that Catherine de Hueck Doherty, the foundress of Madonna House, lived without compromise, and expressed in one simple statement: I am third.  Simply put, this means that to follow Jesus is to embrace a life that places God first and our neighbors second… making our ultimate goal third place.

A few years ago, based on the fruits of my own prayer and some advice that I would be better equipped to serve if the site were a .com, we migrated everything over to thirdplaceproject.com. Part of the goal at that time was to assemble a group of people who would contribute not only to the site, but also to some of the other aspects of my ministry – notably speaking and music.

Two things led me to believe that a change was necessary. First of all, things didn’t unfold as I thought they might. I find myself most often speaking, singing, and writing largely on my own rather than as a part of a larger group (which a “project” would imply.) Second, it seems like I’ve lost something in going from iamthird to the thirdplaceproject: namely, that whenever I used mention that my site was “iamthird,” – students would ask why. This gave me the opportunity to explain, as above, why Catherine Doherty coined the phrase. For whatever reason, “Third Place Project” was either too formal or abstract sounding to elicit the same questions.

So, once again, I’ve moved. And I’m planning to make my permanent online home here at mikeisthird.com. All of my best articles about YouCat, scripture, and practical applications for our faith remain here. The name is short and sweet, and hopefully it will give me opportunities to explain to those whom I serve in speaking, writing, and singing our simple mission as Christians: to put God first, our neighbour second, and ourselves third.

Are you looking for answers to some of your faith questions?  Would you like to deepen your life of prayer?  Do you want to read more about me (Mike Landry)? Would you like to have me out to speak or sing at your school, parish, or other group?

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Three Words

Two years ago, on January 14th, 2018, I said farewell to my father as he died due to complications related to cancer.  It was one of the hardest days I’ve ever lived – I wrote the following a couple of days later to try and put into words what my dad means to me.

In my day-to-day life I play many roles.  I’m a Chaplain, musician, wannabe writer, geek, husband, and a father of five.  This last role – father – is probably the most intimidating one of all of them, as I’ve been entrusted with the incredible responsibility of teaching and shaping these five little lives to become both responsible citizens and (hopefully someday) saints.

That last role – being a father – and much more seem harder this week as the man who first taught me what that word means, Robert J. Landry, died on Sunday afternoon.

I’ve been trying to put words to the way I’ve been feeling since , and I’ve found three.  I feel gratitude, I feel loss, and I feel hope.

I feel gratitude because these days have given me pause to consider just how much of who I am I owe to him.  When I consider some of my great loves – playing music, the Edmonton Oilers, my love for sci-fi (Star Wars/Star Trek) – a lot of these go back to Dad.  For most of my life I’ve watched Dad with his guitar.  I can remember him playing on our living room couch with hockey on in the background and the TV on mute.  I spent 10 years in various Scouts Canada groups, and for 9 of those Dad was one of our group leaders who always came to camp with his 12 string in hand and led us in singing goofy campfire songs and reflective songs during “Scouts Own” sessions on Sunday mornings.  And most of all, I remember spending New Year Eve at Dad’s side many times at his cousin’s house in Beaumont where Dad’s guitar would be joined by a banjo, an accordion, and often even a stand up bass for hours of east coast favorites.  I think those evenings are the closest experience I’ve ever had to a proper Nova Scotia kitchen party.  It was these evenings that first inspired me to take guitar lessons – dad went to a pawn shop & picked up an old guitar, then turned the strings around so I’d have something to learn on.

Through work, Dad used to get tickets to Oilers games through the 1980’s.  You may recall that the 1980’s were a pretty good time to be an Oilers fan (and I didn’t understand then just how lucky we were to see the Oilers as a Stanley Cup contender every year!)  Every time we went to a game, he’d buy me a souvenir hockey puck -the collection of which I still keep on display in my office at St. Peter the Apostle CHS.  While this love for the Oilers has not been nearly as rewarding over the last dozen years, I was able to take Dad to a few hockey games the last few years.  We both set foot in Northlands Coliseum (Rexall Place) one last time a couple winters ago to watch the Oilers lose.  He was with me and a few of my kids last March in Edmonton’s shiny new arena for an Oil Kings comeback/overtime win.  But my favorite hockey more recent memory with him would probably be our trip to the World’s Longest Hockey game a couple of winters ago, when he, my oldest son, and I, got to go and contribute to that incredible cause.

And yes, all of you who have to put up with my overall geekery (and my fabulous Star Wars puns): I owe at least some of that to Dad as well, as I started watching Star Trek with him in the mid-80’s.

Overall, I’m grateful that for 37 1/2 years, Bob Landry was my dad.  No, he wasn’t perfect (but neither am I).  Some of the lessons we learned in our weakness and through tough times may be some of those I am most grateful for.

That I feel loss is probably pretty obvious.  My dad is gone.  I won’t be able to call or text my dad with a question when I start filling out my taxes, and countless other small moments I’ve come to take for granted.  I know, like any wound, this will heal and the ache won’t quite be the same tomorrow as it was today… but there’s no shortcut through it.  And I find it doubly hard because I’m also getting to see this through the eyes of my kids for whom Pepe is the second beloved grandfather they’ve lost in a year.

I also feel hope.  If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that hope is a regular theme I’ve tried to write about (particularly when discussing death.)  In a nutshell, it’s one of the hallmarks of Christianity: in spite of the fact that sin and suffering exist in our world – and death seems to bring those of us left behind a great deal of suffering – none of these get the last word.  Our belief in the resurrection, in a life after death is something that brings with it hope.  I think that once the shock of what’s happened this week has worn off a bit, that hope will take up a more prominent place in my heart.  My dad experienced a lot of suffering throughout his life, from the loss of his mother at the age of 15 to the cancer he was fighting up until the moment of his death.  It is my hope and my prayer that he’s now able to experience the reward that comes from that suffering.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let the perpetual light shine upon him.  May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.