Thy Will be done

Dearly beloved in Christ

Last Sunday at the Palm Sunday liturgy, we began the sacred procession that leads us to Easter. Tonight, we stand on the threshold of the most holy Triduum. This triune day celebration, as I articulated last Sunday, represents the heart of the Christian mystery, the death and resurrection of Christ. Yet, before this was to take place, Christ desired to celebrate a Passover meal with his disciples.

This brings us to tonight’s celebration which, in some way, seems to move in two separate directions at the same time. On the one hand, we know from the second reading from Paul that this is the night Christ gave us our participation in his suffering and death on the cross which took place in that Passover meal. At it, he took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it saying, “Take…eat…this is my body.” In the say may he took the cup of his blood which was poured out for many. This must have been a very confusing statement for all his hearers that night which would only be understood the next day when his blood was literally poured out on the cross. We celebrated that altered Passover meal tonight in the action of the Eucharist and the concluding procession with the Eucharist ending in silent, humble adoration.

Coupled with this Eucharistic notion of Holy Thursday, we hear a gospel that only tangentially mentions a supper but is, instead, securely focused on the service Christ did for us on the cross. Jesus focuses us on this by washing the feet of his disciples, even stubborn old Peter. In turn, I will wash the chair of the parish council’s feet who will wash someone else’s feet. You may also come forward to wash each other’s feet in humble service. We can all imagine that, in a time in which sandals were lushury items and most people traveled by foot along the same path as animals, the feet we wash are far cleaner than the ones Jesus was washing in that dining hall.

This begs the question: What links the humble service of feet washing to the gifts of the Eucharist? Both are related to the cross, though I will focus more on that tomorrow at the Good Friday liturgy. It seems to me that both actions are lessons in the phrase “Thy will be done,” a phrase we pray each time we say that prayer Jesus taught us and one uttered by Our Lord in the garden of Gethsemane in prayer after this Passover meal.

Why did Christ suffer on the cross? Thy will be done
Why did Christ give us his body and blood in the Eucharist? Thy will be done.
Why do we bend down to wash the feet of each other this night? Thy will be done.
Why do we spend time in prayer each day and especially this night? Thy will be done.
Why do I need to love my enemies and pray for my persecutors? Thy will be done.
Thy will be done. Thy will be done. Thy will be done…

out of control

I am getting a different experience of Holy Week this year. I truly feel like everything is spinning out of control, like so much is happening that I can't even focus on the fact that this is the holiest week of the year. Please keep me in your prayers.

why prayer is not acting

Karol Józef Wojtyła was a great actor. In his homeland of Poland, he used drama, banned by the communists, to express his frustration with the oppressive Russian regime. By all accounts, he was a very animated actor. In fact, when Karol became Pope John Paul II he was known for two things. He was extremely outgoing in his evangelical/pastoral visits and in his World Youth Days. The famous scene of John Paul and the hockey stick is still remembered. But, when it came to prayer, he was extremely un-animated. He could have African dancers in procession but, at the heart of the prayer, it was always reverent. That's because the Pope understood that, while anything can lead us to prayer, fundamentally prayer is a movement of the heart accomplished by God best done in silent reverance. The more we try to add the more sloppy it gets and the more it deals with us praising ourselves and less about connecting with the God who calls us to be his people. I struggle with this during the reading of the passion. I'm a pretty animated person. I think that it's expected in a college atmosphere. But, am I really helping my parishioners connect to God or just to think that I'm a good singer/reader? How am I emptying myself so that Christ can fill me up?

A brief homily or Palm Sunday

Given the length of today's mass, this was what I came up with for a homily....

This celebration of the Lord’s glorious entrance into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday begins a sacred procession through Holy Thursday and the Mass of the Lord’s Supper to Good Friday and the crucifixion and death of the Lord: Good Friday the one day that we are prohibited from celebrating mass, to the glory of Easter. I encourage you, if at all possible, to make room in your schedules this holy week as we gather at 7:00 Thursday and Friday and 8:30 next Saturday to remember these three great days in the life of our church. This is the week in the life of the Christian that gives meaning to the other weeks and celebrations during the year. Christmas would be meaningless without Easter. Sunday would not be the day of the S-O-N without these three days that seem like one long day. Our entire life as church hinges on these three days of chaos that begin with a transformed Seder meal in which Christ gives us his body and blood, moves to the unexpected trauma and tragedy of the innocent one who is crucified and dies, to the glory of the empty tomb. We enter into a process of celebration, mourning, and victory. We shall look on him whom we have pierced and truly know love.

Tridentine Mass

Since the election of Benedict the XVI to pope, I've been hearing a lot about a supposed lift on the ban on the use of the old mass, also known as the Tridentine mass because it has roots in the council of Trent, not because because it has anything to do with a gun or is a three prong staff that you throw at people. After the first rumor failed to pan out (that a little over a year ago at the solemnity of the Body and Blood of the Lord the Pope was going to declare it okay for any priest to celebrate it anytime) I became skeptical. The rumor persisted and I kept thinking that it was the wishful thinking of my more traditional brother priests.

Then I read this story from Catholic News Service and found out that it actually could happen and may happen soon. I am profoundly incapable of celebrating this rite but I have respect for those priests who would like to be able to do it. Heck, I've always been told that variety was the greatest thing the council allowed for. I don't believe that but that's what people that institute their own "traditions" always tell me. This is the way this parish celebrates mass, they say. Yet, when a legitimate movement in the church seeks to rejuvenate an old prayer form, people just go crazy.

I don't think that I'll ever do the Tridentine rite mass. But, I never expected to be as traditional as I am. Who knows? Maybe in ten years the only mass I'll do is the Tridentine Rite Mass.

Priest shortage?

Recently, I've been having the conversation about the declining number of priests with people. I'm always trying to tell them that the number of priests is not determined by a personnel committee of a diocese but by Jesus Christ. And, while I do believe there are young men who are being called to priesthood that are refusing to hear that call, I think the interesting thing that's happened is that the young men that are called are constantly derided by their elder brothers and sisters in the faith.

We're too conservative.
We're afraid of women.
We are afraid to get married.
We all want to turn the church back to the 1950's.
We're all evil.

When I approach a lot of middle aged and even elderly Catholics today, this is the response that I get. It's only been recently that I've realized that these people really may as we'll replace "We're" with "Dennis is". And, it's painting a large group of people with a pretty big brush. Here's a thought:

If I want to be the leader of something, I have to believe the movement is worthwhile. So, to the extent that the term "conservative" and the term "faithful" are virtually the same in contemporary catholic circles, then yes I am conservative. Most priests want to be friends with women because they are often on staffs in abundance. But, many women on staff hate men. In my own life I have a lot of friends who are are women and people think I'm dating several of them (I'm not) and/or that I'm weird if I'm not dating them. I don't think I could be married at this point in my life. I find celibacy to be an excellent lifestyle for me. I never lived through the 1950s so I don't want to turn the church back to that, however there are some young priests who see an ever declining number of catholics who practice their faith and look at the 1950's as a time when people actually cared. If we could return to the 1950's in terms of the number of Catholics who actually lived out their Catholic faith and didn't just use it in the same way that a member of AA use the term alcoholic, I think we'd all be for it. I don't think we need to have Latin mass, although having parts of mass in Latin is an idea I believe has some merit. And, I'm not evil. I'm not always good but I'm definitely not evil.

I hope this helps to dispel the rumors about young priests and, in particular, me. The next time you hear someone whining about how bad young priests are, either walk away or point them to this sight. Then pray for them.

My reflection on this day's gospel.

I had this story given to me during the mass today. It's not perfect but I kind of like it. The story isn't real so don't worry that I'm breaking the seal of confession.

The story of GrandFather Bill.

Fr. Bill sat at his table sipping his morning coffee with the Des Moines Register in one hand while spooning his high-fiber cereal into his mouth with the other. He was at point six of his usual morning routine, which had remained fairly predictable since arriving from Germany a year ago. He awakes at 6 to pray, unlocks the church at ten ‘til seven so that he can be back to watch the first twenty four minutes of the Today Show by seven. He showers and dresses until 8:00, making sure to pull every last bit of hair from one side of his head to the other in order to cover the bald spot that had formed on his head back when he was a monk in Germany. The brothers used to tease him that it was his perpetual tonsure, a statement that used to anger him but now wouldn’t even cause him to pause in annoyance. So much had happened in the two years since he asked his Abbott to give him a “real world” assignment. You see, Fr. Bill was one of those guys that spent his entire life in a catholic ghetto of some sort. Having attended Catholic schools in the period immediately after World War Two, a Benedictine College close to Munich, and deciding to enter that particular order of Monks in the middle of college meant that he didn’t know much about the real world. Most guys his age have a midlife crisis in their thirties. They buy expensive possessions or cheat on their wife. Fr. Bill was different in two respects. He waited until he was in his fifties and decided that he wanted to simply do something completely different. He wanted to put aside the safety of the books with which he surrounded himself up until that point so that he could learn something about people.

He put down the newspaper, after having celebrated the early morning mass at his parish and walked toward the sink to rinse his bowl and coffee mug. Then he looked out his window and saw the little boy that had changed his life forever walking hand-in-hand with his mom across the parking lot toward church. Fr. Bill had come to America somewhat reluctantly. He had been finding community life cumbersome for some time. He had been known as that angry monk for ten years or more and relished in the peace and solitude that reputation brought him. But, he found that, the more abrupt he was with other people, the more distant he seemed from God. When he approached his spiritual director for help in this matter, the director looked him in the eyes and said, “You have been here too long. Go away for a while.” The abbot was aware that the American State of Iowa was in need of priests. He was friends with the bishop there who was also a Benedictine Monk and who recently contacted him looking for assistance in some of his parishes. So, when Fr. Willhelm Moeller approached him for permission to venture into the real world, Abbot James knew the perfect place to send him.

Fr. Bill arrived with one suitcase complete with all the essentials. He met the previous pastor who had been in the parish for several years and decided that the guy played too loosely with church law within five minutes of meeting him. He heard all about keys and budgets and procedures, most of which he began forming strategies to change. He thought that the greatest sight he would see in his tenure there was the lights of the man’s car as he left the drive way.

Fr. Bill’s first act was to retrain the altar servers to do what he liked. For the most part, they were amenable, though some complained about hearing the bells and smells of the “old church”. He changed the way people distributed communion, getting rid of the cup except for special occasions. He changed the way people read, making sure that they practiced with him the week. All of that was controversial but not nearly as much as his preaching. At first, he preached in the same academic style he used with the monks in the monastery in Germany. When people complained that they couldn’t understand him, he turned cool academia into angry castigation. He would often shake his finger at his people and speak quite loudly about moral topics like contraception and abortion. In the first six months, he lost a quarter of his parish and had several letters sent to the Benedictine bishop who wondered who his German Abbott friend had sent him. Then, one day, the letters stopped.

It started at the mass that could have easily been just another mass. It was the last mass of the weekend at his rural parish, a mass that generally has several children in attendance. He walked down during the procession and noticed a child wandering in the aisle looking for someone familiar. The child immediately put up his hands to Fr. Moeller who, for some reason, reached down and picked him up. He carried him to the front and began mass in his usual way, as though he didn’t have a child clinging to his neck. As he sat down for the first reading, he became aware that the child was fast asleep on his chest. The little boy’s breathing was soothing to the priest. He listened intently as the first reading turned into the responsorial psalm and eventually became the second reading. Then, it was the priest’s turn to read so he gently stood up and strolled over to the pulpit. He knew that everyone in church was shocked at the boy’s action and the priest’s response yet, for the first time in quite some time, Fr. Bill wasn’t certain if that was a good or a bad thing. He walked over to the pulpit and began to read the gospel assigned for that Sunday. The boy on his shoulder stirred so he quieted his voice and moved closer to the microphone. Again the child stirred so Fr. Bill moved back from the microphone. He began his homily in the same quiet voice and noticed that his entire congregation seemed to be paying close attention as he preached in the subdued manner. He went back to his chair and only set the child down when he knew he couldn’t hold him any longer, during the Eucharistic prayer. The little boy slept in the priest’s chair for the rest of mass and was gone with Fr. Bill finished distributing communion and went to sit down. He could see that the lad had found his mom and was safe and he debated about what he should say to the woman that he didn’t recognize and what she would say to him as well about the encounter.

As the priest-monk sat outside after mass shaking hands, something astonishing happened. Each person who shook his hand gave him a compliment about the substance of his preaching. “Fr. Moeller, I had no idea that Mark’s gospel is considered the first one written. Why is Matthew listed first?” “Fr. Moeller, thank you for telling us why the church is so against lay preaching. That makes sense to me now. It never did before.” Fr. Bill was astonished at the number of people who paid attention this week that never seemed to pay attention before. Unfortunately, he never did get to confront the mother, who must have left by another door. Nonetheless, for the first time since he had arrive in America, he left his parish that day feeling fulfilled that he may have actually begun to understand his people and they may have started understanding him.

The next week, as Father Bill started walking down the aisle, he noticed the same little boy wandering around. As he got closer, he picked the little boy up and started handing him back to his mom. The little boy started crying and saying, “No grandpa! I want you to hold me. I want you!” Both the mother and priest were shocked and seemed uncertain what to do next. Even though this was not his grandson, Fr. Bill felt some kind of strange connection to him and he could see that his mother didn’t seem overly anxious to take back her screaming son. So, he walked to the front and began mass, again, with a child in one arm clinging to his neck. The child’s routine breathing seemed so soothing to the priest who had had a rough week with four funerals and a wedding. He again proclaimed the gospel and preached with the subdued voice of one not wanting to wake a child. This week, the scene couldn’t have been any better. The gospel was from Luke 18, part of which says, “Let the children come to me and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” The priest talked about the horrors of sexual abuse of children and apologized for anyone abused by priests. He looked up from his prepared notes as he apologized and noticed one or two people overcome with emotion. Quickly he returned to his notes and finished his homily, shocked at seeing the pure emotion until he realized the powerful symbol of childhood trust he had on his shoulder.

After mass, several people stopped to talk to the priest, to thank him for his message. There was even one husband and wife that had left the parish two weeks before who simply said, “Thank you.” Many wondered who the little boy was, a question the priest generally asked them in return. No one seemed to know the mysterious boy or his mother. They were all struck at the priest’s change in demeanor and suggested that he invite the rest of the children around him during the first part of mass, a suggestion that seemed terrifying to the priest. But, when he tried it next week, he found himself surrounded by ten young people, including the unknown ice-breaker boy. He continued the tradition in the weeks to come, as long as there were children present. Sometimes, the priest would quietly explain to the children the story that was being read, especially if one or two children seemed to be ready to misbehave. He would generally tell them to return to their parents during the reading of the gospel but the sleeping little boy would always accompany him to the pulpit for the gospel and homily. And, throughout, he never seemed to be able to track down the mother after mass. Others told him the boy’s name was Christopher and his mother, Diane, but he never conversed with either for the first six months of being “grandpa”. Fr. Bill seemed content to see the return of the quarter of his parishioners he had originally lost along with other young families eager to encourage their kids to go learn from “Grandpa Bill” as some in the parish had started calling him.

One day, while hearing confession, he heard a very meek voice on the other side of the screen, “Father, forgive me for I have sinned. It has been many years since my last confession.”

“God loves us most when we return to him with our whole heart and is overjoyed by the repentant sinner, my daughter. We’re both glad that you are here.”

“I’ve not always been good, Father. I left home at an early age and was on the street for a few years. I had pre marital sex and had a child while I was addicted to meth. I’m still amazed that I managed to keep clean during his pregnancy but I’ve found myself falling into the same pattern with it until the last six months. I haven’t used it in six months, Father.”

The priest felt he had to interrupt here. “You should know that God loves all children. You’re child is a blessing even if he was not born into the best situation. And it’s great that you are clean but don’t be afraid to get some help with a drug addiction. That is a great challenge.”

“Yes Father,” the mother said. “Thank you, Father.”

The priest could hear the unmistakable sound of sobbing on the other side of vale. He waited patiently for her to collect herself and then asked, “Is everything alright?”

“You see, Father, I reconciled with my dad after my son’s birth and my dad was helping to raise him. Then, one day, dad died of a massive heart attack. That was when I started using again. And Dad’s death affected Christopher, too. He just didn’t seem to pay attention and seemed to cry and scream all day long. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think I could raise him anymore. I was so desperate one Sunday that I decided to give him to someone at church. I drove to the neighboring town and walked in intent on walking back out and leaving him with a deserving couple. But, then you picked him up and held him and I was afraid you’d send him to an orphanage. I quietly ducked into a pew, not quite sure what to do. When he walked back to me, I was baffled. I tried again the next week and the same thing happened, only this time I realized it wasn’t your choice to pick up my son. It was his choice to find you because you look something like his grandpa. He is such a handful that I didn’t think I could take it anymore, since the rest of my family doesn’t speak to me and I don’t have anyone else I can trust. But, for the last six months, I’ve had a half hour to pray and ask God for strength without distraction. And Christopher even seems to be doing better. You have made me clean, Father.”

The tears streamed down the priest’s face as he realized the unknown, unintended impact he had had on this person’s life. He immediately remember the gospel for that weekend….

…the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery
and made her stand in the middle.
They said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery.
Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?”
They said this to test him, so that they could have some charge to bring against him.
Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger.
But when they continued asking him, he straightened up and said to them,
“Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Again he bent down and wrote on the ground.
And in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders.
So he was left alone with the woman before him.
Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
She replied, “No one, sir.”
Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more.”

Fr. Bill made that same statement to her at the end of her confession that Christ had made to an adulterous woman centuries before. He helped her to reconcile to some of her siblings and made sure to treasure the unconditional love that Christopher and Diane gave to him. Several years later, when he was leaving to return to the monastery and his parish was celebrating a successful building campaign to build a new, larger church, Fr. Bill gave all the credit to God’s gift of grandfatherhood.

This is the basis of my homily

Go here and find it.

A little Easter on a little Easter.

In the tradition of the Catholic Church, every Sunday is a little Easter, or at least that what I've been told. So, here''s a link to a song to give you a little hope.

You Are Loved (Don't Give Up)

Don't give up
It's just the weight of the world
When your heart's heavy I
I will lift it for you

Don't give up
Because you want to be heard
If silence keeps you I
I will break it for you

Everybody wants to be understood
Well I can hear you

Everybody wants to be loved
Don't give up

Because you are loved

Don't give up
It's just the hurt that you hide
When you're lost inside I
I'll be there to find you

Don't give up
Because you want to burn bright
If darkness blinds you I
I will shine to guide you

Everybody wants to be understood
Well I can hear you

Everybody needs to be loved
Don't give up

Because...you are loved

Don't give up
It's just the weight of the world

Don't give up
Everyone needs to be loved

You are loved

The last hurdle cleared?

I remember that, approximately a year ago, my life basically cleared out and set the stage for a relatively easy summer. I say relatively because there are still students around and I still need to be able to get work done and I have more weddings over the summer and, thus, more wedding prep. But, it is nothing compared to the long days that happen routinely during the school year. I remember, for all intents and purposes, a period of a month and a half where there wasn't anything hugely pressing after Easter. I hope I've got to that point a little earlier this year.

The past three days have been hectic. I taught at the University on Thursday, had our fish bake yesterday, and hosted an all day gathering of guys thinking about priesthood today. It was very rewarding to sit with these young men who are asking themselves if priesthood is right for them. But, now it's over and I can finally relax. I'm kind of happy that, through all of that, I was able to blog. If I can do it in three really intense days, I should be able to do it when it's not so intense. I just need to be able to read so that I have something more than internet news stories to bring to the blog.

DON'T SEND YOUR CHILDREN TO MARQUETTE!

Every prospective student should to Marquette University should read this article and know who is on your faculty.

Three questions that come to mind....

1. What is wrong with Jesuits? It just seems like all the do is dissent.
2. Is this guy serious that he thinks any position a catholic takes is a legitimate expression of catholic doctrine?
3. Why doesn't Marquette just fire this guy and let some episcopal school pick him up?

But, as I said at the beginning, there won't be an answer to those questions as long as people still go to Marquette University. If you feed the bull, don't be upset when he sticks you with his horns.

Fish Bake

Two weeks ago, my parish was hosting a fish fry. We had everything planned out to a T before one of the worst snow/ice storms decided to visit central Iowa. We met the night before and thought about canceling since it would be extremely hazardous to have hot, boiling oil outside in strong winds expecting that it could cook fish. But, then someone suggested we bake the fish instead of frying it. Well, to make a long story short, we put on a fish bake the next day that turned out to be a huge success. We bought pre-made fish and made baked potatoes and green beans and pasta and sauce...and it was a good turn out consider it was in the middle of a blizzard. We think we fed around 160 people.

So, move the clocks ahead two weeks tonight and we did it all again. Only this time we had 260 people attend. It was kind of raucous at points in the room with a high level of conversation and frivolity. I was glad that it's growing and hope we can continue on for next year. We've already started to think of the things that we need to purchase for next year to make it a success including an industrial size can opener. My personal favorite experience happens when people look in the kitchen and see me running around cleaning and cooking. They're all shocked that a priest does that stuff. Not all priests do it. I just love to do that, though. People are fed and it's an accomplishable goal. So little of what I do is actually ever done so that I don't have to worry about it anymore. When mass is over, I have to start preparing next Sunday's homily. When I do a wedding there's always a list of 15 more that I have to do. And on and on... When I finish tonight, the kitchen is clean, the food is put away, and I know a good activity is complete. That makes me happy.

from beliefnet.com

I was reading an article entitled I Want to Serve the Lord--But Not Serve on a Parish Committee at Beliefnet.com. I found a couple of paragraphs to be very funny and things that I hear from some students.

"...in trying to get people to be more outreach-y, we also have to remember that the Catholic Church is the universal church. That means, there's room for everybody--sourpusses included.

Conversion doesn't necessarily mean converting from introvert to extrovert. If you're not a glad-handing sort of person in everyday life, why should anyone expect you to turn magically into a glad-hander the second you step through the door of your parish church? And if you do, who's to say that everybody else who comes through that door wants to meet you or get involved with you on any more than a passerby level?"

and

(Regarding holding hands at the Our Father)
"With all those hands, including mine, up in the air, I got immediately distracted from the Mass. I found it a very inward sort of outward gesture. It seemed too unique to that parish and too unfamiliar to anyone who had stopped by simply to be present at the Holy Sacrifice. As an outsider, I felt I was intruding on a very personal moment. I should add, to be fair, that I'm sure the locals didn't think I was."
(emphasis mine)

We don't often think about how changes in the mass can make people feel unwelcome because it makes it overly personal. We don't think that, by making everyone in the parish forced to be involved in some kind of committee, we may be driving out Catholics who want no more than to "pray, pay, and obey." I'm all in favor of people getting involved in church. But, are we starting to put more emphasis on committee involvement than we are on Sunday attendance? If they come on Sunday, do they need to do more for the church? Can't people really just go in peace?

Professor Miller

Not really but, for today, it was kind of like that. I was asked by one of the professors at Iowa State to come to his class and introduce Christianity to his students. I talked for about 50 minutes, though it felt to me more like 30 and took questions for the remaining half hour. It was great. But, I was so nervous this morning that I was afraid I'd get sick. I've taught in different forums and given a ton of presentations but teaching at Iowa State University was not something I thought I'd ever get to do. It was awesome. I was approached by a couple of Iowa State students who were catholic to talk about how they could get more involved and such. But, being able to interract with a professor in a professional manner was absolutely wonderful. I hope I get invited back next year. I probably won't be quite so nervous and will try to do a little more preparation.

Arlen Specter owes us an apology

I was reading the magazine "This Rock" while riding a train in Chicago. I couldn't find this specific article online but it talked about an accusation from Republican senator Arlen Spector who said...

"Michael Servetus has research on human anatomy. Pope Boniface VII banned the practice of cadaver dissection in the 12oos. This stopped the practice for 300 years and greatly slowed the accumulation of education regarding human anatomy. Finally, in the 1500s, Michael Servetus used cadaver dissection to study circuclation. He was tried and imprisoned by the Catholic Church."

This would be a pretty damning piece of evidence to show that the Catholic Church has always been afraid of controversial moral teachings IF it were true. Unfortunately, this story is like explaining the Civil war by saying that the South was upset by the way that Lincoln was elected so they fought against the oppressive tyranny of Abraham Lincoln. What makes me say that? To sum up this article, it's true that the church had a problem with Michael Servetus, but not because of his research. We actually trained him all about circulation in our church run universities. We had a problem with him because of his neo-Arian views. In other words, he didn't believe Jesus was fully God and fully human, just human. He professed it and and wrote about it. That is what brought him into conflict with the church. If you profess to be Catholic and then go against the most central teachings, doesn't the church deserve the right to ask you about it?

What did Arlen Spector convieniently leave out? Servetus was tried, convicted, and imprisoned by a Catholic court but he escaped and fled to Geneva. The Protestant court that was in power there tried him and killed him. Why condemn the Catholic Church and not even mention the fact that Protestants also tried him and didn't just imprison him but carried out an act of capital punishment for his heresy? The Catholic Church has a consistent ethic of life. There is no consistent message from our Protestant brothers and sisters. Spector knew he had to make up facts about the Catholic Church in order to make us look bad so that he could get stem cell research through. And this from a Republican, the party that's supposed to support us in the fight to protect human life. I guess it just goes to show that, in the end, they all hate it when the church speaks the truth.

Change of plans

I had an incredibly relaxing week. At one point, however, I rode the train from the suburbs of Chicago to the suburbs of Chicago and read two magazines that i was behind on. it was great. I needed the impetus to get it done. I have a couple of stories to tell you from one of them that I'll tell you tomorrow. To give you a preview...a senator owes Catholics an apology. More details to come...

Back to normal and then on vacation

I'm hoping to have some deeper posts this week because I'll be on vacation. I'm actually really hoping to relax without a lot of responsibilities. It's spring break here at Iowa State and I'm hoping to take full advantage of it. I'm sorry that I haven't been posting well but the heart of the semester is over and now I'm hoping to get bck to more frequently posting. I hope all is well with you.

Being "in the zone"

I read the readings for this Sunday and thought that the connection between all three is that moment when you are startled out of the "normalness" of life. Moses, on the mountain, sees an oddity, a bush that is burning but not consumed. Some of Jesus' more arrogant followers thought that those people over there deserved their tragedy and didn't realize that they too could have been. Even Paul thought had to tell his followers that they can't take consolation in knowing the revelation of Jesus Christ. They have to live the revelation they've received.

One of the things we have that pulls us out of our illusions of "the zone" is the sacrament of reconciliation. It forces us to acknowledge that we make mistakes, that we aren't perfect. We are fallible and God loves us most when we recognize that.

The transfiguration of our bodies

Who's the most beautiful person in America? Every year, People Magazine publishes its list of the top 100 best-looking people. Last year, Angelina Jolie number one but it seems like we all know the profile of the person even before the results are released. The person is, usually, a woman because, in general, women are better looking than men. The person is probably going to be thin, without any blemishes, whether humanly done like tattoos, body piercings, or unusual hair cuts, sorry Brittany, or natural blemishes like a birth mark, mole, or deformed ear. The person is probably a celebrity, either in movies or television. And society is fixated with youth. It prizes attributes like hairless chests on men and wrinkleless faces on women. And, it is interesting to note when society conveys its double message to "be yourself" and “fit into the above stereotypes”. So, on the one hand, we hear that we shouldn’t conform to anyone else's stereotypes as to looks or expression but, instead, carve out our own look and, simultaneously, we should be thin, perfect, and young in order to be beautiful.

This becomes, then, very frustrating for those of us who aren’t thin, young, hairless, wrinkle-free celebrities. Of course, the solution we hear from our society is simple. Go dye your hair. Get liposuction or staple your stomach. Shave your body or, even better, wax it. And, of course, use oil of Olay to get rid of all those nasty wrinkles. Then you will be beautiful just like the rest of society and, finally, be able to be yourself. What a relief.

If you were to say what Catholicism believes to the most beautiful attributes of a person, what would they be? In other words, who should we, Christians, say is beautiful? We can probably all agree that we aren't going to base our opinions on outward appearances, right? Despite all the depictions of Jesus on the cross with six pack abs and that great picture of surfer Jesus with wind blown hair, we can probably all agree that Christianity isn’t known for a photogenic imperative. I mean, hopefully no one is going to say that we need a team of "experts" to come running into the Vatican to do a makeover. Well, in the gospel today, it could seem like Jesus thought he needed a makeover. On the eighth day, he takes his friends to go off to pray on a mountain. As is typical, they get sleepy and decide to take a nap in the middle of prayer. They'll do that again in the garden so they're just practicing here. While they nap, Jesus' face changes and his clothes become dazzlingly white. And then, Moses and Elijah are there. But, in truth, we aren't looking at anything as simple as a makeover. Peter and the brothers awake, they are given a vision of what it will be like in heaven. In truth, they are seeing heaven on earth. They even get to hear God's voice, just like at Jesus' baptism, declare Jesus to be God's son with the mandate to listen to him. The scene is so overwhelming the Peter doesn't want to leave it. He wants to set up some booths to keep Moses and Elijah from going back to heaven. Yet, he will know later that it is not the right time. The time will come when the Son of Man will open the gates of paradise for all his believers. That will be the most beautiful of times.

That's the true difference between the beauty of Christianity and the beauty of this world. No matter how hard we try, most of us will never look like a model. They'll say that we can and show us pictures of other people who have become beautiful. But, we know that we'll never be like them. And, in fact, the harder we try the more angry and frustrated we become. The beauty of Christianity, on the other hand, is open to all people. The beauty of Christianity is in the realization that we always live with a certain awkwardness in this world. The solutions it offers are always short term because we know that our real happiness is in heaven.

Especially during Lent, we recognize that our time on earth is passing away, not on our schedule but on God's time. Yet, just as Elijah and Moses had to return to the Father, so we know that we will have to go to him when he calls us. We patiently wait for that day knowing that, when it does come, we shall be transfigured just as Jesus was. This gospel, then, shows us what true beauty is all about. It's not in vain desires to be eternally 18 years old. It is in the realization that each day that we live is another gift from God even as we know that this world is passing away. It's in the hope that we have that, when God and God alone, takes us from this world, he will take us to himself to change our faces and make our garments dazzlingly white. All we have to do, is remain faithful to our Lord Jesus Christ and those he has appointed to preach his word.

Warning! Don't send email to my office address!

A couple of months ago, we switched email servers. As a web server, it has been great. It has more options and more memory than we'll ever use. But the email server is terrible! It's been off since Monday, basically. In other words, I've not been able to check my email for four days. I can only imagine how many emails will be sitting there with urgent messages. Ugh! So, if you know what my office email is (not listed on this blog) don't send anything there but send to the email on this blog instead.