“Don’t wait for miracles, your whole life is a miracle.”
-- Professor Albert Einstein

On a clear day, you get to the 9 a.m. Mass at St. Anne’s on Dartmouth Avenue in Garden City, N.Y., around 8:40 (or earlier) to enjoy the quiet reverence of the Exposition of The Blessed Sacrament (the Eucharist or Host) that avails worshipers to pray and reflect on the presence of God Jesus Christ on the altar.

Photo left: Professor Einstein

For those not familiar with this, informal but formal, pre-mass time, suffice it to say that the Church faithful have determined to take Jesus at His Word at the Last Supper's Passover meal (“Holy Thursday”) where He instituted “the new and eternal covenant” of Holy Communion. And while some may, from time to time, struggle with this concept, including the apostles, where they were first introduced to the idea (John 6:60), consider this:

With the two words spoken by our Creator, “Fiat lux”, that is “Let there be light”, all the stars in the universe were created. How’s that for power? Journalist and former Garden City resident, Greg Kelly, gave some perspective here in a recent report, indicating that if every person that ever lived on earth from the beginning of man’s time on earth (approximately 119 billion people) were allocated an equal share of stars in the universe, each person would receive 3 galaxies - or about a billion stars. Wow!

So if we take God Jesus Christ (and the Gospel) at His Word (John 1:1-3), we acknowledge His presence at creation and this power is now unleashed on humanity in the subtle, yet ever-present, form of Holy Communion simply because He said so at the Last Supper. We take this passage to heart: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” (Matthew 24:35)

The sunlight comes streaming through the right (east) side stained-glass windows, bathing the pews (benches) on the right in a kaleidoscope of colors that reach over to the rectangular sides of the west pews (left side). Some morning’s the sunlight reaches up to the altar (north) basking the Eucharist in a glorious golden aura. The source: the reflections on the metallic radial halo that is part of the monstrance, the circular vessel that holds the Eucharist. The rectangular-shaped front of the west-side pews stand sturdy and colorful as likened to stout sentinels, reminiscent of Gimli, the ax-wielding warrior dwarf from "The Lord of the Rings" and loyal member of the fellowship of the ring. You can almost hear him complaining, “Look at the Elves of the East getting all the sunlight!” And, if you allow yourself, Legolas, the bow-and-arrow carrying elf (and fellow member of the Fellowship of the Ring) would counter Gimli, “Pay attention to our Creator, not the created!” And the red-bearded Dwarf’s gruff “Hrmmphh!” in return.

Then about 5 minutes to 9 a priest will approach the altar, bow, remove the Host and return it to the tabernacle -- a box-like receptacle where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved in the rear of the altar area. This completes our first miracle. The priest then leaves the altar area then at 9:00 or shortly after a bell will jingle, and the priest will re-enter the altar area to begin Mass.

Shortly after you hear the second miracle. Outside, St. Anne’s elementary school, students have a recess and the voices and screams of children playing can be heard wafting through the east windows, whether open a crack or not, you hear them. As you listen to the lectern and the priest share sacred scripture readings and the homily, you can not help but recognize the wondrous sound of the future of our faith -- at play. It is a joyous sound, the background melody of chaotic-harmony that always compliments and never detracts from the teachings at the pulpit. The sound of children playing is a welcome addition to the many semi-retired and retired worshipers who attend daily Mass. 

One day, there must have been a full-class competition and the volume and waves of cheers were nearly enough to compel the priest and lecturer to turn up their volume to speak over the din. This time in particular, the audio energy came through the west windows. And when the time of consecration and communion had come, the cheers were ever increasing to an unknown yet anticipated climax that must have been imminent. Then it hit me while on line to receive, “What contrast and likeness is there, should there be, between the joy of children playing outside and worshipers receiving the Eucharist inside?”

As we are receiving, the Apostles share in “the new and eternal covenant” at this very moment, why shouldn’t our hearts be leaping for joy in the sacramental union that is about to take place in communion? Does not Jesus teach us to have a “childlike” acceptance of the Gospel and His kingdom? Therefore, shouldn’t our joy be euphoric in receiving the Eucharist and being part of His Church that satisfies completely the teaching in John 6:53: “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you.”

As we take God literally at His Word, receiving communion is not the highlight of our day, month or year but truly the highlight of our life, because it gives us life, according to His Word, in union with our Lord God Jesus Christ. This is our soul’s perspective, our eternal destiny in Him -- and the body will follow. Our third miracle.

An Irish-American Dad’s Homage

My Dad, William J.P. McLaughlin (photo left), wasn’t a Donegal man per se, though his distant family hailed from this northernmost county of Ireland’s republic. No, he was a Brooklyn man, born and raised, a New York Giants baseball fan of the lefty pitcher, Carl Hubbell “the Meal Ticket” and “King Carl” era, strategically suited to compete with his older brother Francis’s love for the Brooklyn Dodgers. His four older sisters found the competition between the elder Frank “Jr.” and young “Willy” entertaining enough.

Photo left, Bill, enjoying some Irish music in his daughter's home, February 2010, 

At the age of 7, in the “Great Buffeteria of Life” Bill McLaughlin was served a “Blue Plate Special” dirt sandwich, this is how, with less colorful language, one could describe when his mom, Sarah, died giving birth to his baby brother, who also died at birth. Still open for business nine years later at 16, the Buffeteria added a side order of Frank Jr.s death, age 21, from a tragic accident and, for dessert, five years after that, Frank Sr. passed away of nothing short of a broken heart, washed down with the tears of his sorrows from losing his wife and two sons. If I may, take a step back and survey my life to date “in Grandpa Frank’s shoes” and subtract from it two sons and my wife, what manner of man would I be now? For Bill, or Willy, as he was known, his life at 21 was missing two brothers (“Patrick” and Frank Jr,), his mom (Sarah) and dad (Frank Senior). 

My life at 21 was not remotely close. There were tragic losses of friends and neighbors - and they had their impact -- but none were immediate family - none came close to Bill McLaughlin’s at 21.

With an education and degree in accounting from St. John’s University, Brooklyn campus and the family trucking distribution business for The Tablet newspaper on life support, enter World War II. Young Bill had a year’s deferment to get business matters in order for his sisters to take over before serving in the Navy starting in July 1943. A German torpedo from a plane in the Mediterranean Sea took the lives of 17 of Bill’s shipmates in April 1944. The ship (USS Holder), a destroyer escort, managed to hold together in the midsection away from the fore and aft ammunition and explosives magazines. The torpedo strike, though deadly, was considered something of a miracle having missed both magazines. Recognized for his performance under fire, Bill was ordered to decommission the ship to the Brooklyn Navy Yard, received a Purple Heart medal and a promotion from ensign to lieutenant junior grade (“JG”).

Photo right, Bill at St. Joseph's Church, Garden City, N.Y., May 2010.

With WWII victoriously over, an honorable discharge in hand in September of 1946, his family’s trucking business bankrupt, Bill sold off what remained and bounced around with work until landing a procurement position at the engineering company, Foster Wheeler, in Manhattan, where he finally met up with real life happiness in the exquisite form of an intelligent young secretary, also from Brooklyn, of Spanish-Cuban descent.

It was in marriage, 27 years later, at the ripe young age of 34 (1953) Bill married his bride of 20 to embark on the happiness long postponed by the deaths of two brothers, his parents, his shipmates and a failed family business. There was no ill will with his sisters, who did the best they could to keep things going in his and Frank Sr.’s absence. Those relationships continued. Bill continued his career as a lead procurement negotiator for Grumman Corp., successfully arranging the testing and procurement of the Lunar Module’s (“LEM”) engines.

In one critical negation -- a story unto itself, Bill “dug his heels in” and secured the conditional “testing in zero gravity” of those LEM engines. It was those engines that brought back astronauts James Lovell, “Jack” Swigert and Fred Haise from the ill-fated mission; and you can bet there was no one happier on Long Island when the Apollo 13 splashed down safely in the Pacific. 

Bill made it clear -- it was his Roman Catholic faith in the Gospel and the Church's sacraments that sustained him though those 25 “dark years” (ages 7-32) of his life. This faithful perseverance was made clear to me so many years later and on numerous occasions.

Once, many years later, while both watching the Discovery Channel, there was a segment on the deep-sea anglerfish and Bill (“Pop” as I later came to call him) commented in amazement at “God’s creative genius” in their head-mounted bioluminescent lure and lightning strike speed of .006 of a second to acquire its prey. When commenting, he’d put his hand on his bald head and say, “Think about the infinite wisdom, creativity and power it took God to make all this -- found in nature. And we think we’re smart?” Head in hand, Bill was humbly reflecting on the Almighty’s infinite power, creativity and intelligence. 

There were two things that finally sunk in, many years later, from that observation and conversation with Dad: The first: Bill was acknowledging “Intelligent Design” by our Creator in making the universe as demonstrated by the mere nature of this strange and unorthodox fish. And the second: the humility of man as God’s creation. 

Now where else does dad put his head in his hand? At Mass, upon receiving Communion. 

No doubt, it’s Bill’s sign of humility, that “You are God and I am but a man.” As Abraham said, “Behold, I have ventured to speak to the Lord -- though I am but dust and ashes.” (Gen 18:27) 

Our blessed mother’s Magnificat included: “…and his mercy is from generation to generation on those who fear him.” (Luke 1:50) 

Receiving Communion places us in “the room where it happened” (Hamilton) at the Last Supper on Holy Thursday, we are there according to His Word, receiving the apostles’ share, as one of the “many” in Matthew 26:28. (“All of you drink of this; for this is my blood of the new covenant, which is being shed for many unto the forgiveness of sins.”)

As a deeply flawed husband and parent owning up to a veritable cornucopia of life’s errors, let the one good and loving legacy this man can pass on to his children, and his children’s children, be this: Receive as often as possible the Gospel and His Holy Communion in loving humility, with a healthy and real fear of our Creator and an open acceptance of His grace, the grace of God’s love.

The Liberty Tree

In the aftermath of the assassination of Charlie Kirk, many are pointing to a resurgence of Christianity in America and a rebirth of religious commitment of all faiths. If you believed in nothing Charlie Kirk (“CK”) defended politically, there would remain only his profound and energetic commitment to civil discourse every American recognizes and ought to aspire to under our Constitution’s First Amendment. There may be many things to be learned from Charlie Kirk’s life, but if there’s only one thing we may all agree on, let that be the practice of respectful civil discourse among and between all Americans.

JFK, RFK, MLK and, with humility, CK, are their own contributions, given by their lives that the Liberty Tree in America is watered by their blood to bear the fruits of freedom and justice for generations to come. Let us never forget, this nation was founded by rebels who held the “freedom of worship” in the highest regard, such that the cause for a bloody succession from tyranny was born a new nation. Charlie’s commitment to civil discourse reflected that of our 18th century forefathers because, no doubt, this commitment was founded in his love of God, his Christian faith. May we come together to experience Charlie’s words here: “I am just humbled by God’s grace.” 

If, for the sake of freedom, we can regain the moral high ground to confirm our freedom to worship in peace in America, let us work in the spirit of love and humility to draw humanity to the “new and eternal covenant” given by the Word, God Jesus Christ, and echoed below by St. Thomas Aquinas: 

“If in this world there be any knowledge of this sacrament stronger than that of faith, I wish now to use it in affirming that I firmly believe and know as certain that Jesus Christ, True God and True Man, Son of God and Son of the Virgin Mary, is in this Sacrament.”

Amen! Dan