Evangelized by Love: Saying Goodbye after 68 Years of Marriage

This morning, I attended a funeral at the parish where I was assigned for thirteen years.  For all of those thirteen years, the front pew at the 7am Mass was occupied by Henry and Phyllis Sullivan.  In an age when rational argumentation does not always seem to be particularly persuasive in winning people over to the Gospel and to the Church, people like Henry and Phyllis are all the more vital.  Truth to be told, however, I doubt that Henry and Phyllis would ever have considered themselves to be evangelists or anything special for that matter.  But for me, when you look at Henry and Phyllis, you are confronted with the truth about marriage, love, faith, the sacraments, the Gospel, the Church . . . everything that matters.  Henry's and Phyllis' just don't happen by coincidence and they are not just the result of good genes.  They are the result of grace.  Let me tell you a bit about them.

I learned today that they met at a dance and began courting one another.  Their courtship, however, was interrupted when Henry shipped out with the Navy on the USS Sullivan (also his last name) to serve in the Second World War.  When he came home, they wed and began their family.  I only met them much later in their life, in their retirement.  Every day of their retirement began in the front pew of St. Mary Star of the Sea Church in Beverly.  When I first came to the parish, they would travel south for the winter, but at a certain point, age made it impossible for them to travel anymore.  I told them that I was happy that they couldn't leave for the winter anymore because I missed them too much when they were gone.  

One thing that was clear when you looked at Henry and Phyllis is that they absolutely loved one another.  I mean they had love written all over their faces.  A few years ago, Phyllis was ill and couldn't come to Mass so I stopped by to visit them.  When I visited their apartment, Henry was out for a moment and hadn't brought his keys with him.  So, in the middle of my conversation with Phyllis, there was a knock at the door.  Phyllis went to the door and said, "You can only come in if you're handsome."  She opened the door, looked at Henry, and said, "Well, you can definitely come in."  They loved each other.

Today, having spent 68 years loving, honoring, and cherishing his bride, Henry sat in his pew without her.  There was nobody in that church who probably ever remembered Henry and Phyllis not being together.  Phyllis was 93 when the Lord called her home.  The present pastor of the parish gave a beautiful homily about Phyllis, but it was impossible for him to speak of her without speaking of Henry.  Truly, the two had become one.  Their love--a love shaped and bonded by the Sacrament of Marriage--defined who they were as persons.  

Why should we devoutly receive the sacraments?  Why is marriage about a man and a woman in a life-long union, open to new life?  Why is Faith important?  Why are the marriage vows important?  Why is forgiveness, mercy, and charity important?  What's the value of daily Mass?  There are excellent arguments to defend and explain all of these things.  But, those who attended daily Mass at St. Mary's all of these years didn't need those arguments.  In the front pew was Phyllis and her husband of 68 years.  When you look at them, you are compelled to say, "Everything that the Catholic Church teaches is true!"  

I feel confident in saying that the world needs more Henry's and Phyllis'.  I am confident in saying that because I know that I need more Henry and Phyllis'.  When the Lord sent out his disciples, he sent them two by two.  I've always thought that the reason the Lord did this is so that others could see the way that the two disciples loved one another and this love would be attractive and convincing.  Henry and Phyllis' love was attractive and convincing.  I needed to come out of the sacristy every morning and see them there together in their pew.  Their witness was a daily proclamation of God's love.  It would take a violent act of one's will to look at them and deny the power of grace and the beauty of the Gospel.  Their beautiful witness and example points all of us to what is possible when we live the life of grace.  The Catholic life--the truly Catholic life--is what it's all about.  

None of us, as I said, can really think about Henry without thinking about Phyllis.  Seeing Henry there without the love of his life at his side was heartbreaking for all of us.  But, Henry is a man of Faith.  He knows that--like all of us--he too will be called to the House of the Father.  When he knocks upon the door of the Father's House, I've no doubt that from the inside, a beautiful woman with a twinkle in her eye and a magnificent smile will say, "You can only come in if you're handsome."  

Thanks Henry and Phyllis.

Priesthood Is a Waste of Time

Because Boston is buried under several feet of snow for the third or fourth time in a few weeks, Boston University was once again on a snow day today.  But, I knew I had to get stuff done.  I'm behind on a lot of things that need to get done.  So, despite the roads being in tough shape, brave soul that I am, I made it over to the Catholic Center.  When I got there, not surprisingly, our parking spots were somewhat obstructed.  (Our spots are under the pile of snow you see in the picture).  I found a place to park (illegally), went inside the Catholic Center, and got right to work.  Well actually, I texted a student and we went out for lunch.  

At lunch, this student and I talked about Lent, fasting, prayer, friendship, the Church, and a bunch of other stuff.  It was great just to hang out and talk about good stuff.  But, as soon as I got back to the Catholic Center, I got right to work on all of the stuff that I really need to get done.  Well actually, by now our intern had arrived into work, so we hung out for a while.  We talked about life, Lent, prayer, Catholic Center stuff, and we decided that we should really shovel out our two parking spots.  So, we posted a Facebook appeal to help shovel.  We and three students spent an hour or so clearing out a ton of snow.  It was a good time.

As soon as I got inside after shoveling, I immediately got to work . . . well, actually, we hung out a little bit more with a few students and then we had a quick liturgical committee meeting. Then it was time for Mass.  Around 20 students showed up for Mass.  After Mass, we had a low key discussion on how to have a good Lent.  I spoke for about 20 minutes offering some thoughts and then we broke up into small groups, discussed our plans for Lent and past experiences of Lent.  After that, I hung out for a while with some students and a couple of Jesuit seminarians who help us out, and I came home.

I never got anything done that I had set out to do.  Now, eventually it will have to get done.  But, among the things that I love about being a priest is the time I spend not getting stuff done.  I'm glad that there are people who get stuff done in this world.  If it weren't for them, I wouldn't survive.  But, I'm grateful that my life is spent wasting time by being close with people, talking about beautiful things, building up the communion of the Church through the sacraments, preaching, friendship, shoveling, having lunch, and hanging out.  Punctuating all of these other events today, were several requests for Confession.  And there's nothing better than that.

I am grateful to God for the grace of accomplishing nothing of what I set out to do today.  It was a big, grace-filled day of wasting time with some extraordinary young people, witnessing their deep faith and charity, and growing together in Christ.

Let's All Meet at Peter's House and Go From There

Quite often in the gospels, there are lines that don't seem particularly poignant or critical to the story, but are the most moving for me.  For instance, when St. Matthew concludes the account of the Magi, he says, "They went home by a different route."  That line has often been a source of meditation for me. Or, when Judas leaves the Last Supper and St. John solemnly notes, "And, it was night."  Or, when St. John records that "It was about four o'clock in the afternoon" when Andrew and he followed Christ.  In those few words, St. John makes his encounter with Christ not just a vague notion, but rather a fact that happened.

Similarly, when I visited the Holy Land a couple of years ago, I was surprised by what places actually moved me most.  One of the places that most moved me would not appear on a "top ten must see" list in the Holy Land.  In Capernaum, a short walk from the remnants of the synagogue there, are some ruins of a first century house.  Surrounding those ruins are the ruins of two early churches that were built over that site. There is high certitude that these ruins are the home of St. Peter.  The threshold of the doorway from the original house is still there.  It is this threshold that is described in the Gospel that we heard this past Sunday at Mass.  

The Gospel of St. Mark records for us about that house, "The whole town was gathered at the door."  Why were they there?  They were there because people had witnessed Jesus earlier in the day cast out a demon from a man in the synagogue.  Then, Jesus came to Peter's house and healed Peter's mother-in-law.  People saw and experienced the powerful works of Christ and were talking about him.  Naturally, when others heard of this, they wanted to get close to Jesus.  The whole town was gathered at the door.  This is what I found so moving about this piece of rock in Capernaum.  It was there that a whole town of people stood with longing and expectation to be healed by Christ, to be touched by his power, to be freed from their afflictions.  The whole town was gathered at the door.

A few passages later, Peter will speak words that were far more profound than he ever realized at the time.  Jesus had gone off by himself for some time to pray.  Peter and the others go looking for Jesus and when they find him, Peter says something so beautiful!  "Everyone is looking for you."  Yes, everyone is looking for Jesus!  Whether they know it or not, whether they can articulate it or not, everyone is looking for Jesus.  Everyone is looking for healing.  Everyone is looking for true and lasting happiness.  Everyone wants to be freed from the slavery of sin and death.  Everyone is looking to experience the power of God.  Everyone is looking for Jesus.

The reason that the whole town was gathered at the door of Peter is because word had spread about the mighty deeds of Jesus.  When people heard that others had experienced healing and freedom through the power of Christ, they went looking for him.  They arrived at the house of Peter.  Do we realize that everyone in the world desires to be healed and set free?  If so, then we should share with them our experience of the power of Christ.  How has he touched my life? How has he set me free?  How has he healed what is wounded in me?  The more we bear witness to the power of Christ in our own life, the more others will arrive at the door of Peter and ask Jesus to do the same for them.

When I read and meditate on this particular gospel passage, I imagine myself standing at the door of Peter's house and gathered with me is not just the whole town, but the whole world.  Everyone is standing there looking for healing.  Sometimes, people are afraid to approach Peter's house--the Church--because they are not worthy, not fit, or not holy enough.  They hesitate to go to Peter's house because they feel unclean, under the influence of demonic powers, or enslaved by sin.  St. Mark makes clear in his gospel that this is precisely who belongs at the house of Peter.  The whole town was gathered at the door.  Everyone of them needed healing.  

"Everyone is looking for you."  Yes, everyone is looking for Jesus.  Everyone is looking to experience the power of his healing.  Perhaps, as we live this week, we can do so in solidarity.  Let us imagine ourselves standing at the door of Peter with the whole town.  We stand there together, each in need of healing of some sort or another.  None of us is a mere spectator.  No, we are at the threshold of Peter's house because we are all in need of Christ's power.  But, it is not enough just to go to Peter's house and encounter Jesus.  At the end of this week's Gospel, once Peter declares, "Everyone is looking for you," Jesus says, "Let us go on to the nearby villages."  The good news is meant to be shared.  

The whole world is looking for Jesus.  You can help them find him.

A College Priest's Gratitude to the Parish Priest

Dear Brother Priest,

For the past two years, I have worked as a chaplain at Boston University.  During that time, through the generous volunteer work of a married lay couple and a young Jesuit scholastic, numerous young people have joined our RCIA program and have or will be baptized and received into the Catholic Church.  A few months ago, a young man who was raised atheist walked into the chapel at Sunday Mass.  One of our FOCUS missionaries struck up a conversation with him and the young man expressed interest in learning about Jesus and the Catholic Church.  Since then, he's joined us for various events and has drawn closer to the Church.  

While examples like this are awesome, one thing that has really struck me during the past two years is that the vast majority of the young people who come to Sunday Mass at BU and who participate in the life of our Newman Center were raised in solid, good, and strong Catholic parishes and families.  They sought out our community because they arrived here well-formed by you and your parishes.  They know Jesus.  They know how to pray. They love the sacraments.  They know how to love one another.  They are striving to follow Christ as disciples.  Honestly, I am blown away by the formation that these young people have received.  

While we are constantly seeking to reach out and to draw others to Christ, I can say that the bulk of our community are those who came to us well-formed in the Gospel.  Our strength at the BU Catholic Center is mainly the result of strong Catholic families and strong Catholic parishes.  You sent us some amazing young people.  My hope is that we can return the favor and send back to you some even better formed disciples!  

In the old days, people always said that young people who left the Church would eventually come back when it was time to get married and raise a family.  That no longer holds true.  Now the statistics show that once they're gone, they're gone.  We at the BU Catholic Center do our best to keep them close to Christ and the Church, but we are able to do that because you did such awesome work to form them in the first place.  

I sometimes ask the kids, "How did you get like this?"  What I mean by that is, "How is it possible that in this present culture, you are so strong in your faith?"  In large part, I know that the answer to that question is because they come from good Catholic families and from good Catholic parishes.  I know that it's because of your work that these kids arrived at college and sought out the Catholic community.  Their strong faith, devotion, and missionary zeal is a result of the formation provided to them in your parish.  Thank you!  

There's no doubt that the numbers of young people seeking out the Catholic Center here and in other places are much fewer than they were ten, twenty, or thirty years ago.  I wish that wasn't the case, but it is.  At the same time, the young people who arrive today are really a miracle!  They come not because it is the cultural norm.  They come because of a profound love for Christ and His Church and with missionary zeal.  

One of the things that I have always loved about being a priest is that even after 18 years of priesthood, I still feel like a kid.  I'm still learning every day about being a priest.  During the past two years on a college campus, I have learned in a deeper way just how critical it is to have very strong Catholic parishes.  For the most part, the kids who arrive at college and participate in Catholic life are the kids who showed up here with a strong Catholic life already.  Of course we want converts!  But, as St. Paul says,

"But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?" (Romans 10:14).  The awesome and well-formed young people that you send to us are the one's who draw others on campus to Christ.

For what it's worth, I appreciate your priestly work and efforts.  The parish priests from all over the United States who are sending us these great kids are doing something right.  If you are a parish priest who is forming young people to love the sacraments, to worship God at Mass, to go to adoration, to carefully examine their consciences and to frequent confession, to pray, to love Jesus and to follow him, to love their brothers and sisters and especially the outcast, and to zealously share the Gospel with others, then don't ever get discouraged!  Those are the kids who show up at the Catholic Center when they go off to college.  They're here--in large part--because of you.  They're living the Catholic life and sharing the joy of the Gospel with others because of your ministry.  Thanks for being a good priest!

Evangelization, Martyrs, Joy, and Constancy

On February 5, 1597 Paul Miki, a young Jesuit scholastic and twenty-five companions were crucified in Nagasaki, Japan.  Every year on their feast day--February 6th--I am struck by the account of their martyrdom.  Witnesses testify that the twenty-six martyrs prayed continuously during their sufferings,  forgiving their torturers, praying for their conversion, praising God, and encouraging their fellow Catholics.  The line that most strikes me from their martyrology is this: "Joy glowed in all their faces."  In the midst of what appeared to be total failure, "joy glowed in all their faces."

In the Gospel today, we heard St. Mark's account of the martyrdom of St. John the Baptist.  Imagine the world in which St. John was living.  The person entrusted with civil authority was a buffoon.  John the Baptist preached to Herod about the immorality of his marriage to his brother's wife.  Because of this, Herod imprisoned him.  John must have looked around and wondered how things could get so bad.  In the palace of Herod, debauchery was rampant.  Herod and all of his sycophants are in a drunken stupor.  Things have become so weird and twisted that Herod's daughter comes into the banquet and dances as entertainment for the guests.  This scene always makes me squirm.  Things are so perverted in Herod's life that he has his daughter dancing for a bunch of drunkards.  But, if things are not twisted enough, the young girl is promised by Herod anything she wants.  She goes and asks Herodias--Herod's illicit wife--what she should ask for.  She answers immediately, "The head of John the Baptist on a platter."  What a family.

This was what John the Baptist was up against.  These were the people running the country.  In the midst of this, perhaps John the Baptist at times was tempted to think, "What's the point of trying to change things?"  There are times when things seem so far gone, it can seem clinging to the truth is going to accomplish nothing.  Clinging to the truth can seem kind of pointless.  In fact, when you consider how absurd life can be at times it is easy to allow yourself to get discouraged.  John the Baptist was beheaded because a drunken king made a promise to his daughter whom he just had dance for a bunch of drunken men and the daughter's mother thought a good payment would be a platter with John the Baptist's head on it.  Totally absurd.

John the Baptist knew that things were out of control.  He looked around and saw that the situation was growing darker.  He could have shrugged his shoulders and said, "There's no way that these idiots are ever going to change."  Instead, John the Baptist remained constant in his proclamation of the truth.  Even if it would appear to many that he failed in his mission, John the Baptist testified to the truth with his last breath.

At a moment in history when the Catholic Church's influence on western culture is waning, it can be tempting to cave in to the dominant culture.  It can also be tempting to become angry, discouraged, or silent.  I think of the students on my campus at Boston University.  Many of the Catholic students convey to me that in their classes they are often made to feel stupid or part of some archaic belief system.  It's not even a matter of being a minority in a debate about moral issues.  More often than not, many of their professors simply presume--for instance--that every right thinking person knows abortion is great and that no intelligent person would think otherwise.  Catholic students can feel very alone.

In the face of overwhelming opposition, it can be all too easy to give up.  But, Paul Miki and his companions didn't give up.  More than that, in the face of the opposition of an empire, their faces glowed with joy.  How does this happen?  It happened because Paul Miki and his companions possessed the virtue of constancy.  John the Baptist possessed the virtue of constancy.

Despite all of the obstacles that threatened to wear them down, Paul Miki and his companions remained constant in their adherence to the truth and they pushed forward.  In fact, the more their torments increased, the more their faces glowed with joy.  The more they endured the Cross (and in their instance, they literally endured the cross), the more they preached the Gospel of Joy.  Their sufferings did not embitter them or discourage them.  Their apparent worldly failures did not break them.  Had they only softened their preaching, been less public about their faith, or been more willing to accommodate the culture and the powers of government, then perhaps they would have been more accepted by the prevailing forces.  Instead, they remained constant in their faith and this constancy saw them through to victory.  No, not a worldly victory, but the only victory that ultimately matters: the victory of remaining in Christ.  

From a worldly perspective, the martyrs are failures.  They preached, were rejected, and died.  But, for the Church, the martyr is victorious because victory is not defined as how many people agree with you or applaud you.  Victory is gained by adhering to Christ, carrying the Cross, and bearing witness to him until the end.

The psalm today was very beautiful and very fitting for today's feast.  These words from Psalm 27 could have been found on the lips of Paul Miki and his companions.  "Though an army encamp against me, my heart will not fear; though war be waged upon me, even then will I trust"  Without the virtue of constancy, we give up the fight in the face of so many obstacles.  The noise from Herod's palace can seem to drown out the truth of the Gospel.  It can appear that the people at Herod's party are all having a good time.  After all, they're the one's having fun while John the Baptist is sitting in a dark cell by himself.

Such obstacles could weigh one down.  For the martyrs, however, these obstacles became stepping stones to glory.  Herod's parties, I am sure, became more and more depraved.  They could not provide true happiness and thus needed continuously to devolve.  In just one party, drunkenness and lust were not enough to keep things going.  They needed to add murder.  But, for Paul Miki and his companions, their faces glowed with joy.  In the midst of their sufferings, they possessed a joy that could not be taken from them.  They were constant in their faith and persevered until the very end.

Martyrs and saints are the model for the New Evangelization.  The New Evangelization needs constancy in its missionaries (i.e., all of us).  It needs Catholics who will not capitulate or grow discouraged in the face of obstacles.  There is indeed an army encamped against the Church and her teachings and there is a war being waged.  In the face of this, we can seem very small and weak.  From a worldly perspective, we may not have the numerical success that we would like to have.  Mother Theresa and her sisters, I am sure, never had the numerical success that the world would envision as successful.  In the face of tremendous societal obstacles, they simply and joyfully remained constant.  Are we prepared to appear like failures?  To the world, John the Baptist and Paul Miki and his companions all appear to be failures.  To the world, Dietrich Bonhoeffer--a Lutheran Minister who opposed Hitler and was killed in a concentration camp--appears to be a failure.  The true test of one's Christianity is the willingness to follow Him to the Cross and to the appearance of failure.  

Paul Miki and his companions followed Christ to the Cross, and 418 years later we still recall that "joy glowed in all of their faces."  Evangelization is hard work and there are many obstacles that stand in the way.  May the Lord fill us with the virtue of constancy and may the joy of the Gospel glow in all of our faces.

Why Pray When Things Are Dark?

The Gospel for the Feast of the Presentation, provides to us the examples of Simeon and Anna.  Both were of advanced age, but were awaiting the coming of the Savior.  Simeon and Anna are models of patient endurance.  Both of them were approaching the twilight of their life and it may have seemed unlikely that they would live to see the dawn of the New Creation.  But each of them took up the task that was theirs.  They were both found in the temple.  They were faithful to prayer and fasting.   They simply fulfilled their duties, day after day, trusting that the promises made by the Lord would come to pass.

On the Feast of the Presentation, a poor family showed up at the temple.  It is hardly what one would expect to be the dawning of a new age of grace.  But, here we have Simeon and Anna rejoicing and announcing that God had fulfilled his promises.  Simeon and Anna were able to recognize the dawn because they were prayerful people.  They lived their life devoted to their prayers.  Because they were close to the Lord in prayer, they were able to discern his dawning among us--even though he arrived in a most unlikely manner.

At a moment in time when the Church's influence on the culture is waning, when God is disappearing from man's horizon, and when the infrastructure of the Church's institutions are tottering, it can be easy to be discouraged by the darkness.  So too, in the lives of so many people, they can feel as though the darkness only deepens.  Unemployment, illness, strife, discord, and a thousand other burdens that affect people's lives can seem relentless and unyielding.  This is why Simeon and Anna are so important!  They were simply faithful to their calling. They were faithful to their prayers.  And through this fidelity, they were able to recognize the presence of the Light that comes into the world.

Instead of focusing our attention on the darkness that moves across the land and which places everything in its path in shadow, we must go to the Lord in prayer.  It is through a life of fidelity to prayer that we are able to recognize the Light when he appears.  He appears in the life of those who show up and say, "Father, do you have time to hear my confession?" He appears in the life of a couple who take their young children to Mass.  He appears in the life of a woman who spends time each week visiting the sick.  He appears in the life of young college students who come to pray at adoration.  He appears in the life of a young man who is discerning a vocation to the priesthood. He appears in the lives of young people who give a year or two of their life in service to the Church. He appears in the lives of men and women who are humbly serving the Church in the work of the New Evangelization.  He appears in the lives of Christians living their marriage vows and their consecrated vows.  He appears in the lives of Christians living out the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy.  All around us, the dawn is breaking.

Simeon and Anna give us hope. They show to us that if we are faithful to the temple--faithful to prayer--then the Light will be made manifest to us.  If we focus only upon the darkness that surrounds us, we can miss the dawn.  Simeon and Anna teach us to live a life of prayer.  Prayer makes us able to see that the darkness is transitory.  Sometimes, it can seem as though darkness were a permanent wall that impedes us from seeing the dawn.  In prayer, we see that the darkness--no matter how long it endures--is passing.  Prayer enables us to see through the darkness.  Today's Feast of the Presentation beckons us all to live a life of prayer.  Just as the Mary and Joseph carried the Light of the World into that place of prayer two thousand years ago, we can have confidence that they will also carry him into our prayer today.

The Godparent Police

Please don't put me in the middle. I thought as a college chaplain I would, at last, be free from dreaded requests from prospective godparents to sign a letter of "good standing."  Pastors get these requests all of the time, but as a college chaplain I thought I had been liberated from this particular torture. The requests, however, still come.  And, it always puts me in an awkward position.  

Here's how it often works.  Somebody either calls the priest or shows up.  They say, "I have been asked to be the godparent for my friend's baby, but the parish requires me to have this letter signed by my priest saying that I'm in good standing."  Inevitably, the baptism is "next Sunday and we need the letter today." The letter often asks me to testify that the person is a baptized and confirmed Catholic, (if applicable) married according to the laws of the Church, and attends Mass on Sundays.  Nine times out of ten, I've never met the person asking me to sign the letter.  

I try to be polite.  I try to make the person feel at ease.  But eventually, I have to ask that very awkward question.  "Honestly, I don't always recognize people, so maybe I just don't remember your face.  Do you come here for Mass?"  Now, we both feel awkward.  "Well, I haven't been to church recently, but when I do go, I come here."  I remember numerous times in my previous assignment having this discussion and it got really awkward when the person would say, "Well, I don't think I've been here since you came, but this is where I go.  When did you arrive at this parish?"  I'd get that pit in my stomach and I'd say, "Well, I came here thirteen years ago."  Awkward silence.  Then, the person would say, "Well, what if I promised that I would start coming to Mass more often?"  While I would encourage the person, it ultimately would come down to me having to sign the paper.  And, as gently as I would try to explain that I really couldn't testify to something that was untrue, the person would be upset with me (and the Church) for being so difficult.  I hate those forms. 

Sometimes I would write on the form, "John Smith assures me that it is his intention to begin attending Mass."  Then, I'd sign it.  I figured that put the ball back in the court of the parish that put this person in front of me in the first place.  From what I can tell, no parish ever rejected somebody as a godparent when I wrote that line on the form.  But, parishes that require this form (in that particular format) put priests in a very poor situation.  The priest either has to testify to something that is untrue or he has to refuse to sign it.  Neither option is particularly helpful.  

We often talk about baptisms, confirmations, first communions, marriages, and funerals as evangelization opportunities.  But, these letters don't help.  I wish priests wouldn't put me in this situation.  If the goal is to get godparents at least to meet a priest, then re-write the forms.  Just ask the priest to be a witness to what the godparent testifies to be true.  In other words, make the prospective godparent sign a letter saying "All of this is true."  Then, just ask the parish priest to sign saying, "John Smith testified in my presence that the above is true and accurate."  But please don't make me be the godparent police.

If parishes are really concerned about the quality of godparents, perhaps they should ask the prospective godparents to write a letter talking about their faith.  Or, maybe the godparent could meet with the parish priest where the baptism will take place or with a member of the baptism preparation team, either live or via Skype.  Perhaps the parish could send a letter to the person with a description of what it means to be a good godparent and then ask the person to write a letter explaining how they either fit that description or intend to begin living up to that description. 

If baptisms are indeed a key moment to reach out to Catholics who aren't practicing the Faith, the "Letter of Good Standing for Godparents" just isn't a good way to do it.  Making the priest the one who either approves or disapproves of this godparent is a recipe for alienation.  It's one of those small things that has a big impact.  I bet there are some parishes that are doing great things to help prospective godparents reengage their faith.  I'd be curious to know what others have found fruitful.  In the meantime, if you're a priest, please, please, please stop sending prospective godparents to me with those letters!  They don't like it and neither do I!