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So a fire burning in a fireplace can be a beautiful thing. People gather around and draw near to its light and warmth. But that same fire burning in the house but not in the fireplace can be a terrifying thing. And people rightly want to run away from that fire for fear of being hurt by it. And I think the same thing is true about our love for God, which burns like a fire in our heart. If we live it within the fireplace of the church, it can be a beautiful thing, and people want to draw near to its light and its warmth and gather around. But if we live that love for God, that desire for him outside of a relationship with the church, it can be a terrifying thing. And people sometimes want to run away from it for fear of being hurt by it. So I say it that way, because this past week, I made a fire in the fireplace here in the rectory. First time. So I called the chimney sweep, had the guys come and check it out, make sure I was good to go. Called a parishioner friend for some firewood and made a fire. And as I'm sitting before it, I was deeply moved by its beauty, its simplicity, its purity. And in a sense, it spoke to me about that fire in my own heart, which is my desire for God that I a lot of times forget about. Because I don't live as Christ calls us to live in the Beatitudes, you know, in poverty of spirit or simplicity or humility. I tend to complicate my life or decorate it so much as if to try to make up for what I perceived to be a kind of lack or inadequacy before God. But the fire burns all these years later, the way it burned in the very beginning, when God created it. And man at the origin of the human experience, I think, was right there with fire. As a friend, I'm imagining that it changes everything for man when he begins to tame or have dominion over God's creation and use the fire to cook or to go out into the night, or to be able to live in colder climates and move about the face of the earth. Fire was man's friend from the beginning. And of course, he wanted to show woman, too, and gather around the fire with his children. You know, when I made the fire here in the rectory, I went over into the offices to see if anybody was working late. And I found Therese. And I was so happy. I said, therese, come here. You gotta see this. And I brought her into the living room, like, look, fire. I felt like the first man, you know, like, fire. And she was like, that's Great. But it is great. It's still great all these years later. And the fire seemed to say to me, that's why I share it with you here. You too, oh man, are great. And I, together with all of creation, was made to serve you. The fire seemed to be saying, you know, you alone. The fire seemed to say to me, you alone, O man, were created in God's image and likeness, with an intellect and a will to contemplate the wonder of his creation. He created you, O man, man and woman, to look at life with you the way that you just went and called Therese to show her the fire. So the fire seemed to be saying to me, you too. You have a fire in your belly, O man, that will be always burning for God and not to be afraid of that. You were made for him. You know, man's original desire is for God. After the Fall, it gets bent toward evil. And we need to be reminded then of that original desire for God. That's what the Sermon on the Mount is all about. When Jesus teaches the Beatitudes, this kind of new Moses, who himself will be like a fireplace, Christ's own church, which he gives us as the fireplace, to live this in, but with an authority. He teaches us to be poor in spirit, to be humble, meek, to be pure of heart, and then to seek holiness by hungering and thirsting for righteousness. So he's like, burn like a fire. Live as you were made to live. So we need to be reminded of it the way the fire reminded me of it that night. And then also to be given a place now to live this, to live this desire for God, which burns like a fire in a truly life giving way and not in a harmful or destructive way. So what does it look like if a man lives this fire or zeal for God outside of the fireplace of the church, which is faith, hope and love and its authoritative teachings on faith and morals. Well, think about 9, 11. The fires we saw pouring forth from the windows of the buildings were the fires of hell that were burning in the hearts of the terrorists. Those men, though, would say that they did this for God. So it's the fire that burns in man that unless it's lived within the fireplace of the church, can be destructive and harmful. It takes a lot of prudence and a lot of temperance to plan a terrorist act. Also takes a perverted sense of justice and a perverted sense of courage. It needs that fire, needs a fireplace. It needs faith, hope and love, which are theological virtues. A true relationship with God and the Authority of Christ Himself, the Church that he gives to us so that our natural life, prudence, temperance, justice and fortitude can be oriented toward God in truth and in love. But if we live the fires of zeal for God outside of the fireplace, it's terrifying, like the word terrorism. So the Church is meant to be, for us, a guide. And as a fireplace, the three walls of the fireplace, for example, they're like faith, hope and love. And then there's this opening so that the warmth and the light can go forth from the fireplace. So Christ's Church is not meant to hem us in on all sides, but to give us, in a sense, those three walls, two on the side and one in the back, so that our lives might go forth powerfully into the world. But he keeps us, you know, aligned, helps us not to fall back into sin or to go too far to the left or too far to the right. You know, I'm thinking about one of the saints of the church's history, St. Teresa of Avila. She's a 16th century Carmelite saint from Spain. The Carmelites are interesting because they're from Elijah's first disciples who were on Mount Carmel, remembering that he called down fire from heaven to consume his offering. And St. Teresa of Avila, like other holy Carmelites in the history of the church, like St. John of the Cross, her prayer could be described as a fiery intimacy with God. And she lived her love for God in obedience to the Church like a fire in the fireplace, and was life giving for the whole household. And she went around Spain calling her Carmelite sisters to reform the way Christ preached in the Sermon on the Mount. She would show up, although they would lock the doors when she was coming, because they knew that she was going to call them to holiness. She would call them to be poor in spirit, to be meek, to be pure of heart, to hunger and thirst for righteousness so as to be satisfied. She saw that they weren't happy and that they were unsatisfied with their vocation because they weren't living their love for God in obedience to their vows or within the faith, hope and love of the Church and the Church's teachings. And so they were becoming dissatisfied and trying to compensate by decadence and comfort. So they were afraid of her initially, but then grateful to her as they allowed her words to purify their own heart, the way Christ speaking to us in the Sermon on the Mount. It's a scary message. It's a scary invitation to think that we could burn as purely as fire. But he says, within the fireplace. You can, you know, and St. Teresa of Avila was met with what Christ promised us at the end of the Sermon on the Mount, that we would be met with the insults and the persecution. And they uttered every kind of evil falsely against her because of him, you know, so. But her reward is great in heaven. She's no doubt one of the saints who is very, very close to the fire of God's own heart, you know, And I was thinking about how Christ himself, you know, when he came to us, he comes to us within the context of or burning in the fireplace of Judaism, you know, with its laws and its rules, which would serve to enable the fire of God's own sacred heart to burn with such intensity without burning the world down, the faith and the laws. Christ Himself not only praying in the synagogue, but would make his way to Jerusalem for the feasts to place his love, which is the very love of God himself, within the context or the fireplace of Judaism, so that it wouldn't be a sort of wildfire, you know, threatening everything in its path, but rather a fire in a fireplace that we were happy to gather around and draw near to for its light and warmth. But he placed his own love, our God, in the context of the fireplace of Judaism and on its 12 tribes of Israel. And as the Catholic Church now brings this love of God into the world on the foundation stones, not of the twelve tribes of Israel, but on the twelve apostles, the bishops, they are like not only foundation stones, but also like the, the bricks of a fireplace for us. They have this apostolic authority which assures us of their teaching on faith and morals that was first given to Peter and the apostles by God's grace and then is entrusted to them and their successors as they go out into the world. This is what enables us to wield the fire of our love for God in a life giving way. The bishops represent this. They create the context of our faith. So one of the most powerful examples of this fire burning in the fireplace image, like the love that burns between the man and the woman, if you bring that passionate love into the house without the fireplace of the sacrament of marriage, that fire can burn that house down. I mean, children whose parents are married in the Church sacramentally and bring that marriage to the church on Sundays. Children have such a confidence because mommy and Daddy have this love for each other and that love is in a fireplace. So mommy and Daddy have a fight, but the child knows that it's okay because it's in the fireplace. Or mommy and Daddy seem to be a little tense as the child picks up on a little anxiety in the air, perhaps over finances or jobs or who's talking to who at work. And although the child can't really figure it out and can't fix the fire, nonetheless knows that because the fire is in a fireplace, it's going to be okay, even if it loses some of its shape. And, you know, even if a child sees that the love between the parents is dwindling a little bit, you know, you can always put more wood on the fire and bring it back to life. A fire in a fireplace, because it's in the fireplace, is full of hope. But the same child whose parents are not married in the church and sees that the parents have a love that is almost like a wildfire, can grow up with a sense of, I think, insecurity before those conflicts that take place in the house, simply because there's no fireplace around the love. And so while they don't condemn their parents, you know, for not loving one another, and that while they still have love for their parents, there's a fear that at any moment that love could burn the whole thing down. So the sacrament of marriage, I think, is the great example of what it looks like to live love and in a fireplace for the life of the household. And as a priest, I'm called to live my love for God in the fireplace of my priesthood so that I can be light and warmth for people and attract people to the church if I live it merely like a street preacher. There's something frightening about that. People might say, this guy really loves God, but there's something scary about how he doesn't live it in a fireplace. And it can go wild at any time and can become destructive very quickly. You know, when I was a chaplain in the high school, I was always hoping to get the attention of the students. And I remember one time on a Friday, I shared a story about something that happened to me in college that I should not have shared with them. It was my attempt to show them that I'm trying to be understanding in any resistance they might experience toward the church's teachings on the life issues. Excuse me. And on that Monday after the Monday after that Friday, the bishop was in the school looking to meet with me. And I said he did tell me he was coming. To be fair, they're not that scary when they just show up and like, what the. He sent me an email saying, I'm going to come see you on Monday. I knew what he was coming for. And when he came, I did say to him, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I said on Friday. And he said, oh, I'm glad you know why I'm here. I'm glad you know, he said, he asked me, why did you say it? And I said, I'm just, I'm just trying to get their attention. I'm just trying so hard to get their attention. And he said, rob, you're a priest, you have their attention. He reminded me of this. And that's what the bishop and what the bishops can be for us, that they remind us of the church and what this church is. This is the place that enables us to burn so brightly as to be attractive. Trust the fireplace, you know, and what it can do. It took a bishop to remind me of my priesthood, my ordination. Live it from within your priesthood, he said, and you will be attractive. But if you step outside of it and give yourself merely to your own natural virtue or eloquence, you'll be like a street preacher. You could scare these kids away. They would pick up on something imprudent or intemperate about the way you share a story like that or desperate for their attention almost. There's something inherently unbecoming about you speaking as if you were not a priest. And he's right. I'll never forget that. And I try my best to trust now, you know, the priesthood itself to give the fire that I feel in my heart for God, to give that to you in a life giving way or enable it to be for you something life giving. So I try to trust that sacrament. It's like Teresa of Avila going around calling the nuns to live their love for God within the fireplace of their religious vows and their sacraments of the church, you know, and to live it with the church. She's like, so you can attract people to you. So we draw people in. But the religious communities that don't live their, their vows or live their love for God within the church, they just, they don't attract vocations. But look at the priests and the, and the religious who do live their love for God, you know, with the church. They're attractive and they give, they draw vocations, they give vocations. People open their own hearts to the possibility of, of living, you know, with the church in whatever way they're called to, you know. You know, because people want to draw near to a fire in a fireplace, but we do not want to gather around a fire outside of a fireplace. It's scary and dangerous. There's no promise in a wildfire. I was Talking to a friend here in the parish after one of the masses this weekend, and he's a coach. And he said, you know, sometimes I step outside of my role as coach with them or my relationship with them. The fire, my belly for like a victory here starts to kind of burn things down. I get so worked up sometimes that I step outside of my role as coach and just say things to these kids like, you know, I worked hard to prepare this practice. I want this more than you guys. You guys got to want this as much as I do. Or that other team, like, they want this more than you do, and they're going to kick your butt out there, you know. He's aware, he says, of how sometimes he steps out of his role as coach and just lets his own natural, you know, fiery justice, you know, kind of get the better of him. He steps outside of the fireplace of his God given relationship with these kids, in that sense, a kind of sacramental relationship with them. These kids, you are their coach, you know, he says, but when I step outside of that relationship with them or that fireplace, I tend to burn them a little bit and hurt them and they back away from me. Made me think about how when I was kicked off a team when I was in high school, it was by a coach who did so as coach with love in his heart, but as coach. So I didn't feel personally offended by him or hurt by him. In fact, he was sincere when he said, it saddens me to have to do this, but I can't keep making the whole team run lapse because of your own disobedience and lack of discipline. But he says, I love you. I'm sorry to have to do this as your coach. And I actually felt very loved by him and came back from college and visited him, drew near to him and still love him to this day and feel very close to him still. But if he stepped outside of his relationship with me as coach and teacher and was just like, personally offended by me and hurt, I might have thought, like, that fire in his belly might not be trustworthy. It's a little out of control. But because he loved me from within the sacramental relationship I have with him as teacher and coach, the fire with which he refined me and purified me is attractive. It was helpful life giving. So some examples of what this looks like. I hope that as I'm speaking with you, you're thinking about your different ways of relating to people in this world, all within the context of this church that is enabling us to live this fiery desire we have for God, which he himself put there, but in a way that's truly life giving for us in the world. So when Christ, just as Moses, who first encountered God as fire, right, the burning bush, then preaches the law from Mount Sinai, so you have Christ, the New Testament, preaching with the very fire of God's own sacred heart and the Holy Spirit on the Mount of Beatitudes, which is on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. And so this new Moses, whereas Moses's words gave birth to the first fireplace of Judaism into which Christ would be born, Christ's words give birth to this church, which will be the new and eternal fireplace into which the Holy Spirit will be poured, who will then go into the world to set the world on fire. A fire that illuminates, a fire that purifies, a fire that wants to be as the Holy Spirit is trying to be for us. What fire was for man in the beginning, at the origin of the human experience. If fire in the beginning enabled men to cook, look what the fire of the Holy Spirit gives us. Like the very bread of life itself, the very Eucharist, right? Talk about a meal. But if fire enabled man in the beginning to. To live in the dark, right, The. The fires of the Holy Spirit can enable us to see clearly in this dark age in which we live, this dark culture in these dark times. And if fire enabled man to live in cold climates in the beginning, the fire of the Holy Spirit can enable us also to live in this cold cultural climate. But how do we really meet the Holy Spirit of God, but through those people who allow their love for God to burn in the fireplace of the church?