I've felt the need to reflect on a rather complicated issue recently and I need help from anyone who has a good idea.
And, before I go too far, I'm not really speaking about my relationships or trying to imply anything here. In other words, don't read anything into this.
The question is: how do you show love to someone that you don't necessarily respect. I ask this in the contemporary church situation in which younger "conservative" clergy are replacing older "liberal" priests. The younger priests are, generally, walking into parishes and restoring long-lost pius practices. The older priests hear about this and think we are taking our people back into a "pray, pay, and obey" situation prior to vatican II. We say we are just trying to put beauty, regularity, and sanity back into the church.
The hardest situation that I've had with several of my contemporaries is that we just want to do what's in the book. We walk into parishes that, for years, have done something different than the rest of catholicism and we can't understand what would prompt a pastor to need to be "different". It's hard not to lose respect for someone who seems to, rather easily, throw the book out the window and "do it my way."
I think the most uncharitable response we can have is to demonize these brothers and make them seem bafoonish. Yet, how should we respond? How can we show them love?
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Sunday, December 25, 2005
The cloth and the cave
On behalf of Fr. Ev Hemann and myself, I welcome all of those people we see weekly, those that are not quite as frequent and especially those who we have not seen in some time. All are welcome here. There is an old principle that I learned in seminary pertaining to mass. It says that the more solemn the celebration, the less apt we are to change things. During this time of year, this principle applies equally well to our readings as it does to sheered pine trees and colorful wrapping paper. So, in the spirit of this tradition, I humbly submit the following reflection. It is in the style of an early church catechetical homily, which means it is a little more poetic, a little more scriptural symbolic, and little more affective than most homilies. If you like it, I say sleep in heavenly peace. If not, you will just have to come back next week to experience a different style.
How cold it must have been for them…how dreadful! Can you imagine the opulence they enjoyed, the fruit they feasted, or the peace they felt with God’s dominion in one hand and original grace in the other? This first male and female were, likewise, the first to defy their God and be punished to here. This place, with its winter and floods and drought and other such discomforts. The first woman and man could have had no knowledge of what to expect with the first pregnancy. Undoubtedly, expecting that all good gifts had been forsaken by their act of disobedience, they had no idea that God left one blessing not forfeited by original sin nor washed away in the flood. They were the first to share in God’s sacred rite of matrimony. They shared in God’s fruitful fecundity and bore, first Cain and then Abel, two sons. Both boys were born wrapped in the cloths of original sin in a rock hard place outside their paradise where no one should have had to walk. Before long, through the original act of fratricide, Cain murdered his brother and forced the original sinners to also be the first to lay a son in burial cloths in a rock-hewn tomb where no one should have laid.
It was through the offspring of this first disobedience, David the King, that the knot of our original sin would begin to be undone. That king, born the son of a meek shepherd, would succeed the shameful Saul and shepherd his people toward unity. Yet, David was not to undo original sin through obedience, but through coveting his neighbor’s wife, murdering him, and having his children. In this we see that God can even make something good happen from an evil act – and so he did in the person of brave Solomon who was wrapped in a mantle of military might with a rock-hard determination. He continued what no one else could do and made Israel a great nation in history.
Israel was to be the scene of the final undoing of disobedience when a new Eve, at the angel’s invitation, joyfully accepted the arduous responsibility of giving birth to the son of god. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone. For the yoke that burdened them, the pole on their shoulder, and the rod of their taskmaster you have smashed...For a child is born to us, a son was given us; upon his shoulder dominion rested.” Wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger because there was no room, this child whose birth we hold dear was born. He was thought to have been the new David, the new Solomon whose wisdom would unite the country of Israel and overthrow her oppressors. In truth, he was the new Abel, another fratricide whose mother, the new Eve, was forced to redo the horrifying responsibility of the first one by wrapping her son in the swaddling clothes of burial and laying him in a man made tomb where no one had laid before.
Yet, unlike the first fratricide, this was no mere act of disobedience for all people, a simple effect of the original sin. This obedience began when his mother said, “Let it be done according to your word,” and concluded when he said, “Father forgive them.” His obedience pulled off the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations; his obedience destroyed death forever. As we adore Christ the child wrapped in swaddling clothes, in a manger, with no room in the Inn, let us give thanks to the savior of the world and join our voices the angels in adulation, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
How cold it must have been for them…how dreadful! Can you imagine the opulence they enjoyed, the fruit they feasted, or the peace they felt with God’s dominion in one hand and original grace in the other? This first male and female were, likewise, the first to defy their God and be punished to here. This place, with its winter and floods and drought and other such discomforts. The first woman and man could have had no knowledge of what to expect with the first pregnancy. Undoubtedly, expecting that all good gifts had been forsaken by their act of disobedience, they had no idea that God left one blessing not forfeited by original sin nor washed away in the flood. They were the first to share in God’s sacred rite of matrimony. They shared in God’s fruitful fecundity and bore, first Cain and then Abel, two sons. Both boys were born wrapped in the cloths of original sin in a rock hard place outside their paradise where no one should have had to walk. Before long, through the original act of fratricide, Cain murdered his brother and forced the original sinners to also be the first to lay a son in burial cloths in a rock-hewn tomb where no one should have laid.
It was through the offspring of this first disobedience, David the King, that the knot of our original sin would begin to be undone. That king, born the son of a meek shepherd, would succeed the shameful Saul and shepherd his people toward unity. Yet, David was not to undo original sin through obedience, but through coveting his neighbor’s wife, murdering him, and having his children. In this we see that God can even make something good happen from an evil act – and so he did in the person of brave Solomon who was wrapped in a mantle of military might with a rock-hard determination. He continued what no one else could do and made Israel a great nation in history.
Israel was to be the scene of the final undoing of disobedience when a new Eve, at the angel’s invitation, joyfully accepted the arduous responsibility of giving birth to the son of god. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone. For the yoke that burdened them, the pole on their shoulder, and the rod of their taskmaster you have smashed...For a child is born to us, a son was given us; upon his shoulder dominion rested.” Wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger because there was no room, this child whose birth we hold dear was born. He was thought to have been the new David, the new Solomon whose wisdom would unite the country of Israel and overthrow her oppressors. In truth, he was the new Abel, another fratricide whose mother, the new Eve, was forced to redo the horrifying responsibility of the first one by wrapping her son in the swaddling clothes of burial and laying him in a man made tomb where no one had laid before.
Yet, unlike the first fratricide, this was no mere act of disobedience for all people, a simple effect of the original sin. This obedience began when his mother said, “Let it be done according to your word,” and concluded when he said, “Father forgive them.” His obedience pulled off the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations; his obedience destroyed death forever. As we adore Christ the child wrapped in swaddling clothes, in a manger, with no room in the Inn, let us give thanks to the savior of the world and join our voices the angels in adulation, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
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