A difference between Catholics and Protestans, though not shared by all protestants

The other day, I blogged about lecturing to a class at Iowa State. It was a great experience for me in overcoming fears and such. I did have a slight annoyance at a fundamentalist that asked the predetermined "Catholics are not a Bible church" question. I say it was predetermined because it really didn't follow from what I had just said to him at all. He asked why the Catholic Church revers Mary and I said because Mary was 1. Jesus' mother who 2. kept things about him in her heart, and was 3 the faithful disciple who stayed with him even to the point of watching him die on the cross. I even 4. cited the magnificat in which the disciple says to Mary, "all generations will call you blessed." I'd say an answer that involved four direct referances to the Bible could be considered fairly well based on the Bible. But, not according to this lad. He had his point and, by god, he was going to make it! He asked if I could see that we weren't a Bible church so I tried to point out to the lad that several aspects of Christianity were developed outside of the Bible but I could tell that this kid hadn't heard a word I said the entire 80 minute presentation. So why should he start now?

As I read over the Pope's Wednesday audience on Ignatius of Antioch (a spiritual hero of mine!), it occurred to me that this is a huge difference between the catholic church and fundamentalist evangelicals. The difference is that Jesus didn't give us a book on which we are individually "thrown to the wolves" in order to interpret and understand it. Christ, a human, handed on the faith to other humans who, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, handed it on to others. The Bible becomes the only way to understand God in the life of an evangelical. And, even though I believe that this is, of itself, contradictory to their central criticism that Catholicism is a man-made religion, I will save that for another day. The more central criticism is that this attitude denies the historical presence of a God who "did not deem equality with God something at which to be grasped" but denied himself and became fully human. This very human Jesus remained present in the church so it is important not to just understand the portrait of Jesus in the Bible but the portrait of Jesus still working through the apostles and their successors to "Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age."

This is at the heart of the message of the Catholic Church. History doesn't end with the death of Jesus and pick up again, rather arrogantly, at my interest. In order to be fully a Christian, we must listen to the sage wisdom of the breadth of Christian history, not just one book, even one as important as the Bible.

The dog I almost bought today!

Here's a link to the dog I almost bought today. He is the sweetest, gentlest, most beautiful dog ever. I hope, someday, I'll be able to get him or one like him.

A year in the life of Christ

It was a big year in the life of Christ. Or at least in our understanding of Christ. You might remember that the big furor last year dealing with a certain book that was being made into a major motion picture. This book and movie that shall remain nameless throughout this homily said that Jesus must have had a mistress named Mary Magdalene. He must have faked his own death and married her and had children because clearly no one can go for an entire life-time without getting married. (look at yourself). Oh, right….well, in any case, despite the dearth in evidence and the ability to transform a group of heretics that believed all flesh was sinful into the group that believed Jesus and Mary were “in the flesh” with one another, this piece of…fiction managed to do well in the theaters. Thankfully, Hollywood tossed us a bone simultaneously by releasing a movie about the birth of Christ called the Nativity. And, while I haven’t yet get the chance to see it, I’ve heard from several people that it’s well done. Recently, another discovery was made that seemed to put scientific fact to the fiction of the movie that shall remain nameless. A grave containing the burial box of Jesus, Son of Joseph. In the cave there are several other boxes, two with the name Mary. A statistical analysis says that there is a one in six hundred chance that this is not the Jesus of Nazareth…pretty good odds that it is. The Christian world looks in confusion. We believe Jesus was raised from the dead bodily. We celebrate his bodily resurrection and bodily ascension. What could this new discovery mean. Then we discover that this “new” archaeological discovery isn’t even all that new. It was discovered in 1980 and deemed unworthy of study by archaeologists. And we discover that it’s not an archaeologist that is forwarding this discovery as the tomb of Jesus and Mary Magdalene but a journalist and a high profile movie maker. Archaeologists are almost unanimous in their laughter at this find and the conclusions of this journalist who simultaneously claims that he didn’t enter into this expecting to find the Jesus of history yet all of his questions and tests are intent of proving that he has.

This persecution should come as no huge surprise to we believers. There have always been people intent on disproving the truth of Christianity. Peter, in our first reading, is articulating the first defense the church offered for her belief. His belief is that Jesus’ ministry began in his baptism and was a ministry “about doing good and healing all those oppressed by the devil.” This is consonant with the scriptural message that we hear most other weekends. Peter also says, “This man God raised on the third day and granted that he be visible, not to all the people, but to us, the witnesses chosen by God in advance, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.” This point of actually eating and drinking with Jesus was used often to point to the fact that Jesus had a bodily resurrection. A pure spirit need not eat and drink anything since they have no body to sustain. It gives me hope that we will still eat and drink in heaven. I’d miss turkey and stuffing too much otherwise.

The resurrection account in the gospel may seem to leave this question open in a sense. Even though there is no appearance of Jesus, the disciples arose and went to the tomb and found it…empty. Not filled with bone boxes. Of course, there’s a good reason that they didn’t find the bone boxes, because that would have happened a year or so after death. Yet, the early church dealt with a rumor that they stole the body of Jesus and this was their answer; that when they went to anoint the body it was already gone. They didn’t steal the body. They were terrified that someone else had. It only makes sense to them a few hours later when Jesus appeared to them in that upper room in which Thomas is not present.

So, which do we choose to believe? A work of fiction combined with a 25 year old archaeological discovery that most scientists debunk? Or a 2000 year old institution that has consistently told the same story, that Christ has died, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again? I imagine most of you have voted with your feet, voted in the veracity of the gospel account, not because I’ve done a lot to strengthen your faith in this homily, not because you have infinite distrust in journalists who dabble in archaeology, not even because the Pope wears cool clothes. You believe for the same reasons Peter, and Mary of Magdala believed so many years ago; because Christ has touched your life in baptism and continues to touch your life with the gifts of his body and blood which he gives to us each Sunday that we gather together in his name. We have faith that will be fulfilled in heaven and, even though we pay attention to the arguments of those who try to weaken our faith, even those only manage to strengthen it because they prove that Christ is still a threat to the institutions that promote immorality and violence. “Christ has triumphed over sin and death,” as one early Christian writer once wrote, “and hell trembles with fear.”

Another brief homily at Easter Vigil

I know what you're thinking! 2 1/2 or 3 hours? Man, I hope his homily is short. Well, you might be interested to know that in the Early church, it was common for a vigil to last all through the night. People didn’t have Swiss watches to tell them the time, instead they used the sun and moon to know when day ended and the next day began. For our Jewish brothers and sister and all in the ancient world, really, a day began and ended at sunset. And, night was the time when evil, or to use a word from the first reading we hear this night, chaos reigned. The people kept vigil by staying with one another through the chaos of night into the light of a new day. We can imagine our Christian ancestors in the faith gathered together on a night 2000 years ago when it seemed like the world was turned upside down because Jesus, the one who was to deliver them from oppression, had died on the cross. They gathered to support one another. They gathered to love one another. They gathered because their grief was too great at the loss of Jesus. The early Christian community emulated that attitude by gathering together the night before Easter. I suggested to Fr. Ev that we should move to this most primitive understanding of Easter Vigil at this liturgy by reading other readings from the Old Testament. I said that we could read from Ezekial about the dry bones that come together when they receive the Spirit of the Lord and I could talk about how, in baptism we receive the same Spirit that enlivened these dead bones and made them whole again. I thought we could read the account of David and Goliath, how David slew a mighty warrior despite his young age. I would talk about how nothing gets in the way of God’s call for us. And of course, I would have to read about the prophet Elisha and the she bears. You do know about the prophet Elisha and the she bears, right? It says in the Second book of Kings “Elisha went up to Bethel. While he was on the way, some small boys came out of the city and jeered at him. ‘Go up, baldhead,’ they shouted, ‘go up, baldhead!’ The prophet turned and saw them, and he cursed them in the name of the LORD. Then two she-bears came out of the woods and tore forty-two of the children to pieces.” The word of the Lord. I believe the lesson behind that is self-explanatory.

I was set to go all night listening to readings and, unfortunately, Fr. Ev said, “No, we’ll just do it the same way we did last year.” And, being the good and obedient associate pastor, I gave in. The truth is that this liturgy has enough words in it that are meaningful. We see the prominence of fire and hear how God made fire in the creation of the world and spared Moses’ son from the fire. Yet, God’s own son was not saved from being sacrificed. We hear about how God created water and used water to rescue the Israelites from the land of slavery in Egypt. In this liturgy we will see three people who have been preparing for the Easter sacraments escape the scourge of sin and death through the waters of rebirth in baptism. There is so much that happens that, perhaps, I need to try to add to it. Maybe, we all just need a couple moments of quiet to take it all in.

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...