In 1975, the General Motors Corporation introduced a Chevrolet television commercial with this tag line: “Baseball, Hotdogs, Apple Pie and Chevrolet.” I believe the tag line was intended to summon a return to traditional American values.

1974 and 1975 were years of several memorable events. In August 1974, Richard Nixon resigned as President, the first such resignation in history. The resignation marked the end of the Watergate scandal. In April 1975, after decades of fighting and the loss of more than 50,000 American lives, the Vietnam War came to an end. At that time, we all seemed eager to put the “nightmares” behind us and return to a sense of normalcy. We were ready to get back to the traditional values represented by “baseball, hotdogs, apple pie and Chevrolet.”

Although some may argue, I believe baseball is still America’s game. I don’t think you can understand the American spirit without understanding baseball. A game of baseball lasts for nine innings, but there is no clock, there’s no time limit. As the great philosopher of baseball, Yogi Berra, once said: “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.” No matter how bleak the situation may be, the possibility of victory is there to the end. Do we embrace perseverance as a value?

What can be more American than a hotdog? I remember taking rides from the Bronx to Coney Island on hot summer evenings just to stand in line with my friends to get Nathan’s Famous Hotdogs. Those hotdogs meant more to us than just food; it meant we were sharing a meal in friendship and hospitality. What greater American values are there than friendship and hospitality?

Apple pie is always the crowning glory of any American meal. It’s a tasty celebration and sweet gift from the earth and the loving hands that made it. And with a scoop of ice cream on top? It’s as American as ... apple pie.

Our popular culture seems to have turned its back on those once-treasured traditional American values conjured up by the ideas of “baseball, hotdogs, apple pie and Chevrolet.” It breaks my heart, but there is something that breaks my heart even more. Just as our traditional American values are held in ridicule and disdain, so are our Catholic values and faith. Although I fondly remember a more innocent time in our history, I’m not some old fogy sitting around calling for a return to the halcyon days of yesteryear; that would be foolish. What I pray for is a culture that recognizes the importance of traditional religious faith and values. I pray for a time when expressing one’s faith is not met with ridicule. We should all pray for a time when we can express ourselves as devout Roman Catholics without the fear of being shamed or attacked.

To bring about that change, we must proudly and publicly profess our Catholic faith. We’ll never change the world if we hide our faith like a rosary in our pocket that never sees the light of day. We live in a difficult and trying time, but our Catholic faith compels us to stand up proudly and courageously, even in the face of ridicule and possible persecution. Put your faith in Christ, and we can bring the whole world to Him.

Well, it’s the 13th of June and graduation season is nearly over. The caps and gowns are ready to be stored away for another year. The congratulatory cards have been sent and received. The parties, whose guest lists were limited by the COVID-19 pandemic, are now fond memories. The photographs have all been taken and stored on a flash drive, and some have even been printed. It has been a great season of celebrations.

This year, I didn’t attend a graduation ceremony; I guess I’m now of an age when those invitations are few and far between. But I was very much aware of two graduations. One was the graduation of the young seminarians of St. Joseph’s Seminary, Dunwoodie, who were awarded their academic degrees. The other was the graduation of the men in the diaconate formation program who received their academic degrees and certificates. These are very special because these graduations result in a commencement.

In the academic world, the term “to graduate” simply means a person has achieved a certain degree or grade of proficiency in an academic field. The word “commence” means to start something new. Whether they are seminarians preparing for ordination to the priesthood or men preparing for ordination to the diaconate, their graduations are leading to something far greater than the mere awarding of a degree; their graduations are leading to the commencement of a new phase in life dedicated to serving God and His church.

Their commencement is their ordination. The knowledge gained through their study of theology was not meant to result in a diploma to be hung on a wall; it was meant as a dimension of their formation, enabling them to faithfully and effectively serve the Church by proclaiming the Gospel message to the world as ordained members of the clergy.

This is a lesson for all of us. It’s wonderful to gain knowledge, but a degree or diploma means very little if it ends up in a frame hanging on a wall, collecting dust. All of us, whether or not we have a degree, should be asking ourselves: What are we doing with the knowledge we have about God? Are we going to let that knowledge wither and die, or are we going to nurture it so it grows? Are we going to put the knowledge we have to good use? Are we going to use it to bring the message of God’s love and mercy to the world?

Jesus’ command was to go and teach all nations. That command was not directed to those with degrees or those who are ordained — it was directed at all of us. Jesus’ was a call to commencement: to proclaim the good news of salvation.

The name Anna Jarvis is not what we would call a “household name.” How many of us even recognize her name? I’d say very few, and yet it is Anna Jarvis whom we can thank for having every second Sunday in May dedicated to honoring our mothers. Anna Jarvis, who was born in West Virginia in 1864, was the moving force behind the first observance of Mothers’ Day, which was held on May 10, 1908, at the Andrews Methodist Episcopal Church in Grafton, West Virginia.

While the idea of celebrating motherhood was not a unique concept, the idea of setting aside a designated day was. Of all human activities, mothering or motherhood is likely the most honorable. I thank God that so many of us live with fond memories of our loving mothers and how much they did to support and nurture us as we grew. The ideal of motherhood is eternal.

Anna Jarvis saw a need to honor mothers and motherhood at least once a year with a special day. She envisioned a day when each mother would receive the honor and recognition due to her. She saw the mother as the center from which all human life and activity emanated. By the time of Anna’s death in 1948, however, Anna had become disheartened by the concept of Mother’s Day. She saw the day being hijacked by the greeting card and candy companies and by florists.

By the time of Anna’s death, Mother’s Day had become a financial and commercial opportunity. Had it lost its true aim: the celebration of motherhood? I don’t believe the true purpose could ever be lost. Yes, like so many other celebrations, Mother’s Day now has a strong commercial element, but, if you cut away all of that commercialism, what remains is Anna Jarvis’ true aim.

We Catholics are very fond of our mothers. For us, the concept of motherhood begins and ends with the ideal presented to us in the Blessed Virgin Mother of our Lord and Savior, Jesus. For Catholics the world over, the Virgin Mary represents the ideal of motherhood and the model against which we gauge all mothers. She gave life to the incarnate God and nurtured and cared for Jesus, her son. Jesus, in the last moments of His life on Earth, turned to St. John at the foot of the cross and gave His mother to John. At that same moment, Jesus gave His mother to us. No matter what the reality is with our own mothers, we have a loving and eternal mother in heaven.

As we celebrate and honor our earthly mothers, grandmothers and godmothers, we also honor our Blessed Virgin Mother Mary, true mother to us all.

If you search the web for the meaning of the Latin word triumphus, you may find the following on Wikipedia: “The Roman triumph (triumphus) was a civil ceremony and religious rite of ancient Rome, held to publicly celebrate and sanctify the success of a military commander who had led Roman forces to victory in the service of the state or, originally and traditionally, one who had successfully completed a foreign war.”

The tradition of a triumphus was to have the conquering general ride in a chariot in a parade, with a slave standing behind him, holding a wreath of laurel leaves over his head and whispering in his ear: Sic transit gloria mundi (the glory of the world is fleeting). We can all recall the successor to these Roman triumphant parades in our own time: the many ticker-tape parades up the “Canyon of Heroes,” New York City’s Broadway.

Today, the Church observes Palm Sunday of the Passion of Our Lord. In two of the forms used at the start of the Mass, a Gospel is proclaimed commemorating what we call Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem. (This year it is Mark 11: 1-10.) For Jesus, there was a cheering crowd. There was no chariot, only a donkey on which to ride. There was no slave holding a wreath of laurels or whispering to Jesus how fleeting the glory of the world is; He knew well how fleeting the glory of this world could be. There was no ticker tape, only palm branches.

In the view of this crowd, Jesus did arrive triumphant. He was the great miracle worker who fed the five thousand and preached peace. It was He who healed the sick, gave sight to the blind and made the lame walk. It was He who raised the dead. It was He who proclaimed that the Kingdom of God and salvation was near.

Those in the crowd cheered for Him, believing He would finally free them from the oppression of the invading Romans; of course, they were wrong. Jesus’ victory would not be like that of a conquering Roman general. Jesus’ conquest would be different and totally predictable. His conquest would be far more significant than any mere military victory. They would have to experience a week of trial, tribulation, pain and death before they would witness His true victory.

Perhaps because Jesus did not fulfill their expectations, this same crowd changed. Five days after the triumphus, the crowd of cheering admirers was transformed into a mob clamoring for Jesus’ execution. The same crowd that welcomed Him with joy would, in their anger, watch Him suffer and die. Eventually, they would witness His execution in what the Romans considered the most dishonorable way -- death upon a cross.

Today, we know that Jesus did triumph and is the conquering hero for all times. Today, we know that Jesus conquered that which only the Son of God could conquer: sin and death. Jesus’ message was fulfilled in His sacrifice on the cross and His triumph was His resurrection.

Today, for whom do we cheer and wave palm branches? We cheer and wave our palm branches for Him who is most victorious. We wave our palm branches for the Savior of the World. Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.

Those of us who attended Catholic grammar school in the 1950’s and 60’s remember the challengng task of memorizing the questions and answers in The Baltimore Catechism. The definition of sacramentals stated: “Holy things or actions of which the Church makes use to obtain for us from God, through her intercession, spiritual and temporal favors.” Unfortunately, some of us have come to think of these holy things as talismans or items that bring us good fortune. There is no intrinsic power in a sacramental; the worth of it rests in that it represents the prayerful intercession of the Church.

This Wednesday, the Church observes the start of the Lenten season with the imposition of the ancient symbol of ashes on the foreheads of the faithful. The blessed ashes are among the most cherished sacramentals offered by the Church.

I have always been amazed by the number of people who wait in long lines to be marked with ashes on Ash Wednesday. My first experience of Ash Wednesday as a deacon came in 1990 at The Church of St. Agnes on East 43rd Street, Manhattan. Given its location near Grand Central Terminal in midtown Manhattan, St. Agnes was an enormous center for the distribution of blessed ashes. The lines began to form when the church doors opened for the first Mass at 6:00 a.m. and continued right through until the end of homebound rush hour. Two lines of the faithful ran up the center aisle, out the front doors of the church on to 43rd Street, split east to Third Avenue and west to Lexington, and then north on each avenue and around the block.

The line seemed endless. By the end of the day, those of us who were distributing the blessed ashes experienced numbness in our legs and pain in our shoulders from reaching up to the thousands of foreheads we marked with the sign of the cross. The mood of the day was frenetic; the people coming to church seemed resolute to be marked. For some, it seemed as if they thought they would suffer damnation if they were not marked with ashes.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I rejoice on Ash Wednesday when so many faithful Catholics come to church with the desire to publicly demonstrate their faith and willingness to repent by receiving ashes; what troubles me are those few misguided souls who come only for the ashes, as if the ashes alone will in some way save them.

Again, there is no intrinsic power in the ashes; they are not magic dust. Whether we wear the ashes on our foreheads or sprinkled on the tops of our heads, the ashes should be for us — and the whole world — a sign, the sacramental, of our desire and willingness to repent: to turn our lives away from sin and to live our lives anchored in the Gospel by prayer, fasting, and receiving the Sacraments of Reconciliation and Holy Communion frequently.

Repent and believe in the Gospel. Amen.