In this weekend’s Gospel, we read the story of Zaccheaus, the man who was willing to be a fool to see the Lord. He was a grown man willing to climb a tree to get as close to the Lord as possible. When I think of such bold curiosity to know the Lord more completely, I am inspired. I pray you are, as well.

This is our worthy reflection: what in our lives stands too frightening to be overcome in our pursuit of the Lord?

So many of us struggle with a syndrome that seems to afflict every church, and perhaps the Catholic Church most of all.

The “holier” people become, the more they seem to become holier-than-thou. They morph into self-appointed dress code monitors, solemnity enforcers, and masters of the dirty look.

I have to be honest. I struggled with them as a child more than you can imagine.

I recently received feedback that said a previous column was “offensive.” I treat feedback like this very seriously by going back and scouring the article in question. If I inadvertently wrote something mean-spirited because I didn’t pray and/or have my morning coffee first, I will write a correction or apology—as I have in the past. But if it is offensive because it is firmly grounded in Church teaching and the Gospel, so be it. It means I did something worthwhile.

You won the lottery. And because you are a kind and generous soul, you’ve decided to throw a party for family and friends. You finally have the opportunity to make dreams come true!

There is couple from your parish who have always wanted to visit the Vatican, but couldn’t afford it. You aren’t particularly close, but you decide to bless their lives anyway. You bought them tickets, a week in a hotel, and included enough money for food, ground transportation, and entry to anywhere they want to go.

Eight days ago (as I write this), our parish’s Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults began another year, and will culminate at the Easter Vigil before concluding a few weeks later.

It meets almost every Wednesday in the Parish Library from 6:30PM-8:00PM and is for any adult who is unbaptized, baptized in another faith and interested in Catholicism, adult Catholic who never completed the sacraments of initiation, AND any “cradle Catholic” who wants to audit the class in order to learn more about the Faith.

In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus tells the story of a rich man who dies—along with a poor man called Lazarus who he knew, but never helped.

Many will naturally focus on his refusal to help someone so obviously in need. (And rightfully so.) But I’d like to jump to the end and have a conversation about his last recorded request from the netherworld

“I beg you, send Lazarus (who was in heaven) to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment.”

“Hey Father! Stop talking about money during Mass! It has no place in the Church!”

Once in a great while, a Catholic priest will hear something like this. Of course, more often, people with this mindset don’t have the courage to actually voice their complaint. No, they just spread poison to their friends or family.

“The Church just says it’s a sin to miss Sunday Mass because they just want a bigger collection.”

I’ve said it before—free will is great, when it belongs to you. But it becomes a problem when other people are allowed to use it.

Mercy works in much the same way. We love it when God has mercy on us. We hope others forgive our driving if we are having an emergency. We are grateful when folks give us a little latitude in the aftermath of personal tragedy.

But when God forgives someone who has hurt a loved one? When someone cuts us off in traffic? When someone doesn’t give us the high level of customer service we expect?

Wait a minute. Hold the phone. Stop the bus.

What is the blue sky is all this about Jesus instructing us to hate everyone (including our own lives) in this week’s Gospel reading?

I mean 90% of celebrities seem to suggest that Jesus was all about loving every person and supporting everything every person does or says.

I’ve often thought a good measure of a person’s character is how they treat the free sample people at Costco. People just walk up, grab their toothpicked gouda, and walk on without even looking at the person who prepared it. If it’s a good sample, they send in family members to get seconds or thirds. I can’t even fathom asking them to take a moment and say, “thank you.”

This weekend’s Responsorial Psalm (117) says, “Go out to all the world and tell the Good News.”

And I know.

It is difficult to go out to all the world and tell the Good News. You might make some one uncomfortable. It might be your husband, wife, or children. It will probably be you. You might have someone tell you to “get lost!” You might have to quit your job. You might lose some Facebook friends or followers on Twitter or Instagram. (God forbid!)

What if you lived in eastern Ukraine right now? War, bullets, and violence all around you? You’ve been told to lock yourself and your loved ones in your home. Ignore what you hear on the other side of those four walls. Resist the urge to despair. You will be alright if you wait. Just wait. Someone will be coming to evacuate you. When that moment comes, don’t hesitate. Just follow.