I was really struck by today's gospel passage from daily mass. Especially this one
“The scribes and the Pharisees
have taken their seat on the chair of Moses.
Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you,
but do not follow their example.
For they preach but they do not practice.
They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry
and lay them on people’s shoulders,
but they will not lift a finger to move them.
All their works are performed to be seen.
The part about not laying heavy burdens on people's shoulders reminded me of how often bureaucracy does that very thing. The expectation is that committees make decision but, almost invariably, one person ends up doing almost all the work. I think it's a danger of parish life and we need to make sure that we not just keep making work for people that are already too busy.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Battlestar Galactica episode one
A friend got me addicted to the sci fi television show Battlestar Galactica. (Just to be clear, I'm talking about the next series, not the one from the 70's) and, since I'm supposed to be getting my taxes done but couldn't make it because of the weather, I decided to come home and watch an episode or two on a much needed day off.
I started from the beginning, from an episode that could easily define what it means to be frustrated. The (evil) cylons keep finding the (good guys) colonial fleet and attacking them every 33 minutes. For days, the fleet has to "jump" using to a new location in the hopes that they cylons won't follow. That's how I feel about the weather. Since Thanksgiving, basically, we have been on a five or six day cycle of snow, digging out, and incredibly cold weather. Each day, we seem to have two of those three things. We are either waiting for the storm, digging out for the storm, in the midst of the storm, or freezing. And, right once it looks like we are going to turn a corner, we hear that we will simply have more of the same. It looks like we are going to get above freezing and, when we do, it drops six inches of snow on us and gets freezing.
Where do we find the hope in this? The mundane can become overwhelming! As I read the Pope's latest encyclical, Spe Salvi, I hope to find an answer to that. As I prepare a talk for a group of parishes in northern Iowa, I ask for your prayers. Ask for the intercession of St. Thomas Aquinas that I may see through the mundane times of life to help those parishes find hope.
I started from the beginning, from an episode that could easily define what it means to be frustrated. The (evil) cylons keep finding the (good guys) colonial fleet and attacking them every 33 minutes. For days, the fleet has to "jump" using to a new location in the hopes that they cylons won't follow. That's how I feel about the weather. Since Thanksgiving, basically, we have been on a five or six day cycle of snow, digging out, and incredibly cold weather. Each day, we seem to have two of those three things. We are either waiting for the storm, digging out for the storm, in the midst of the storm, or freezing. And, right once it looks like we are going to turn a corner, we hear that we will simply have more of the same. It looks like we are going to get above freezing and, when we do, it drops six inches of snow on us and gets freezing.
Where do we find the hope in this? The mundane can become overwhelming! As I read the Pope's latest encyclical, Spe Salvi, I hope to find an answer to that. As I prepare a talk for a group of parishes in northern Iowa, I ask for your prayers. Ask for the intercession of St. Thomas Aquinas that I may see through the mundane times of life to help those parishes find hope.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Opening ourselves to the mountaintop experiences
Most of you are probably unaware that, by law, a priest is given four weeks out of the year to be away from his parish. Three of the four weeks we are vacation, which is why you haven’t seen Fr. Ev for a while. He’s using up all three weeks of vacation in one shot and won’t be back until a week from this coming Friday. Priests need to be able to get away from the rat race of parish work in order to be the servant-leader God has called us to be. So we pray for Fr. Ev’s safety as he is on vacation and that I, your acting pastor, not screw things up too much while he’s gone.
A priest is also expected to spend one week of the year in retreat. I still remember visiting with the Archbishop before I came here to Ames and telling him that I had spent my last retreat alone in my camper praying over the Bread of Life discourse from John’s gospel. He sort of laughed until he realized I was serious. And then this very seriously look came over his face and he said that a young priest needs a directed retreat. From then on, I vowed to find a place where I could have a directed, silent retreat. The strange thing was how God did that for me.
When the campus ministers were planning out the events we were going to facilitate, one of my responsibilities was to take a group of students to a monastery in Northern Missouri called Conception Abbey. I had already taken my directed retreat with my good friend, Fr. Bob Hart in Hawaii, so I assumed this retreat would be more for the students than for me. But, in the course of that week, I found myself changed. Even though I’ve shared this from this pulpit before, I almost didn’t come back at all. I found a depth in my spirituality there that I had never experienced and certainly didn’t expect to experience while playing chaperone to a group of college students. I found quiet and peace and, in the process, found a new depth in my relationship to God.
That’s what I find so believable about this celebration of the transfiguration. Jesus takes his inner sanctum, the three leaders among the leaders, the apostles to the apostles if you will, off by himself on a mountain. I can just imagine Peter, James and John thinking all along the way that this is a waste of time. They could be going to any number of towns to heal their sick, feed their hungry, and preach about the kingdom of God but, instead, they are taking a Sabbath rest on a mountain. What a waste of time. Yet, in the midst of this waste of time, Jesus is transfigured, changed, into his glorified self and we see him with the two Old Testament figures that represent the Law and the Prophets, Moses and Elijah. It is the glorified image of Jesus not destroying the law and the prophets but fulfilling what they said. Peter’s first thought is that he needs to do something, he needs to build them a tent and preserve this glorified experience. But, just like David in the second book of Samuel was refused to build a temple for God, so Jesus forbids Peter from doing building them a structure. Peter had to come to understand what Paul would later articulate to Timothy, “He saved us and called us to a holy life, not according to our works but according to his own design…” Peter, James and John weren’t earning this vision of heavenly glory. They were given it freely by Christ whose cross would alone earn it for them.
Sometimes, I worry that we give the false impression here at St. Thomas Aquinas that you need to earn your salvation through good works. We have numerous social justice activities for both resident and student parishioners and we spend a lot of time talking about doing service projects. I get concerned that people believe that Christ’s victory over salvation is insufficient, that we need to earn the forgiveness of our sins and glorified life offered to us in Christ instead of seeing it freely given to us. Yet, even the most socially just, most good work oriented philanthropist cannot be saved without knowing Christ, without being invited on the mountain to see Christ’s transfigured glory. We work because God has called us to live a life of love. However, this Sunday we are reminded that, just as important as a life of service is a life of prayer. We all need to take time each day to be drawn away from worldly concerns to be caught up with Christ on the mountain. Maybe we can’t find a monastery to do that and there will, undoubtedly, be experiences on retreats that will especially fulfill that need each of us feels. Yet, each day, we need to experience the God that makes us fall prostrate and reveals to us the identity of his son.
A priest is also expected to spend one week of the year in retreat. I still remember visiting with the Archbishop before I came here to Ames and telling him that I had spent my last retreat alone in my camper praying over the Bread of Life discourse from John’s gospel. He sort of laughed until he realized I was serious. And then this very seriously look came over his face and he said that a young priest needs a directed retreat. From then on, I vowed to find a place where I could have a directed, silent retreat. The strange thing was how God did that for me.
When the campus ministers were planning out the events we were going to facilitate, one of my responsibilities was to take a group of students to a monastery in Northern Missouri called Conception Abbey. I had already taken my directed retreat with my good friend, Fr. Bob Hart in Hawaii, so I assumed this retreat would be more for the students than for me. But, in the course of that week, I found myself changed. Even though I’ve shared this from this pulpit before, I almost didn’t come back at all. I found a depth in my spirituality there that I had never experienced and certainly didn’t expect to experience while playing chaperone to a group of college students. I found quiet and peace and, in the process, found a new depth in my relationship to God.
That’s what I find so believable about this celebration of the transfiguration. Jesus takes his inner sanctum, the three leaders among the leaders, the apostles to the apostles if you will, off by himself on a mountain. I can just imagine Peter, James and John thinking all along the way that this is a waste of time. They could be going to any number of towns to heal their sick, feed their hungry, and preach about the kingdom of God but, instead, they are taking a Sabbath rest on a mountain. What a waste of time. Yet, in the midst of this waste of time, Jesus is transfigured, changed, into his glorified self and we see him with the two Old Testament figures that represent the Law and the Prophets, Moses and Elijah. It is the glorified image of Jesus not destroying the law and the prophets but fulfilling what they said. Peter’s first thought is that he needs to do something, he needs to build them a tent and preserve this glorified experience. But, just like David in the second book of Samuel was refused to build a temple for God, so Jesus forbids Peter from doing building them a structure. Peter had to come to understand what Paul would later articulate to Timothy, “He saved us and called us to a holy life, not according to our works but according to his own design…” Peter, James and John weren’t earning this vision of heavenly glory. They were given it freely by Christ whose cross would alone earn it for them.
Sometimes, I worry that we give the false impression here at St. Thomas Aquinas that you need to earn your salvation through good works. We have numerous social justice activities for both resident and student parishioners and we spend a lot of time talking about doing service projects. I get concerned that people believe that Christ’s victory over salvation is insufficient, that we need to earn the forgiveness of our sins and glorified life offered to us in Christ instead of seeing it freely given to us. Yet, even the most socially just, most good work oriented philanthropist cannot be saved without knowing Christ, without being invited on the mountain to see Christ’s transfigured glory. We work because God has called us to live a life of love. However, this Sunday we are reminded that, just as important as a life of service is a life of prayer. We all need to take time each day to be drawn away from worldly concerns to be caught up with Christ on the mountain. Maybe we can’t find a monastery to do that and there will, undoubtedly, be experiences on retreats that will especially fulfill that need each of us feels. Yet, each day, we need to experience the God that makes us fall prostrate and reveals to us the identity of his son.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Overcoming fear
The crazy thing about fear is that it's often based on exaggeration. We make our fears even more serious than they ever need to be.
I was afraid of celebrating mass in Latin. I took some Latin in school and did alright with the language. I studied classical latin and sang church latin. I learned how to think it with Nero and learned how to pronounce it with Thomas. A group of students wanted to have a Vatican II mass in Latin. They had been learning the mass parts chanted in Latin and wanted to use what they learned. I was leery because I'm not the best "pronouncer" ever. But, I wanted to give it a shot.
Thankfully, I didn't let my fear get in the way. We celebrated it this afternoon and, to a group of young people who never experienced what some call the horrors of the pre-Vatican II liturgy, they spoke the parts in Latin that they have only said in English for years. It was awesome. I was terrified a few times because I'm sure I mangled the Latin and need to practice more but it was just nice to say "Dominus Vobiscum" and hear a resounding "Et cum spiritum tuo."
I think, if we do it again, we'd have to give them a crash course on some of the stuff that we take for granted. Like, Pax tibi instead of peace be with you for the kiss of peace. But, there was no question we were praying, even if part of the prayer was me saying, "God help me say this and understand it even if I don't say it exactly correct."
I was afraid of celebrating mass in Latin. I took some Latin in school and did alright with the language. I studied classical latin and sang church latin. I learned how to think it with Nero and learned how to pronounce it with Thomas. A group of students wanted to have a Vatican II mass in Latin. They had been learning the mass parts chanted in Latin and wanted to use what they learned. I was leery because I'm not the best "pronouncer" ever. But, I wanted to give it a shot.
Thankfully, I didn't let my fear get in the way. We celebrated it this afternoon and, to a group of young people who never experienced what some call the horrors of the pre-Vatican II liturgy, they spoke the parts in Latin that they have only said in English for years. It was awesome. I was terrified a few times because I'm sure I mangled the Latin and need to practice more but it was just nice to say "Dominus Vobiscum" and hear a resounding "Et cum spiritum tuo."
I think, if we do it again, we'd have to give them a crash course on some of the stuff that we take for granted. Like, Pax tibi instead of peace be with you for the kiss of peace. But, there was no question we were praying, even if part of the prayer was me saying, "God help me say this and understand it even if I don't say it exactly correct."
Monday, February 11, 2008
A short and good message from Alaska
Bishop Donald Kettler of the diocese of Fairbanks has a great lenten message with some great simple suggestions. You can read it here.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Fasting from our disobedience
As I listened to today’s first readings, at first I was tempted to ask: What is it about that darn apple that makes Eve and Adam want it so badly? In other words, why eat from the tree of knowledge when there are so many other trees to eat from. What was wrong with the pear tree or the grapevine that day? Were our first parents just tired of them after eating the same thing every day. But, I don’t think this story is about the diet of our original parents. It’s about their original sin. It’s about cowardice and selfishness in its purest form. It’s about disobedience.
And yet, we may see in this story a kind of relief as well. I mean, the one who is truly at fault is God in all of this. While he gave them a simple rule, he never explained to them why. Despite creating them in the image and likeness of himself, God expected that they not eat from that one tree. I mean, come on. Let’s face it. When we are told not to do something, isn’t that the first thing we want to do. When dad bakes a dozen cookies and leaves them out to cool, if he just says that we shouldn’t eat them and then leaves, how many will be left when he comes back? Ten? Eight? Two? But if dad tells us that he baked them for the church’s bake sale, we might be more cautious about eating them. Now we understand why we shouldn’t eat them. That was, basically, what God didn’t tell Adam Eve. He made them free, giving them the freedom to choose everything but then told them not to do this one thing and then he left. So, the real one at fault is not poor Eve who gets tricked by the erpent. Not poor stupid Adam who seems to do whatever Eve tells him to do. God is at fault for this. If he made them free, he needs to at least tell them why they aren’t allowed to eat from that tree.
And yet, maybe they just weren’t ready to understand the why. Maybe they should have been more satisfied with knowing what the rule was instead of needing to know why the rule existed. Maybe their minds just weren’t ready to understand what it meant to live in a state of original innocence. Contemporary theologians don’t even understand what this life would be like. Just try to imagine living in a world without sin, a world where the mere concept of disobedience has never been invented. It’s easier for us to imagine a world without cars or a world without knowing about the America’s. And even if we think we can understand the concept of the innocent life of our first parents, we’ll never be able to experience it, to live it. How could these hunter/gatherers ever understand that, by keeping them from that tree, he wasn’t depriving them of equality with himself, he was feeing them from the worries and uncertainties of living antagonistically towards himself.
And still, “The woman saw that the tree was good for food, pleasing to the eyes, and desirable for gaining wisdom. So she took some of its fruit and ate it; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.” They built up the wall of separation between God and humanity and began pushing us farther and farther away from our original creation in innocence when God walked with us. We were alone and lonely. And that, in part, was why God needed to send his Son to be our savior. Just as human beings moved us away from God so a Godly human could be the only one to move us back. Jesus, in the gospel, fully enters into the human experience of loneliness by entering into the desert and fasting for 40 days. And, in one of the most understated lines of scripture, after Jesus comes out of the desert, he was hungry. His loneliness and emptiness is, then, tested by the devil. He asks him three questions in which Jesus is encouraged to use his power to take control. At one point, the devil even quotes sacred scripture in an attempt to trip up the Lord, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down. For it is written: He will command his angels concerning you and with their hands they will support you, lest you dash your foot against a stone.” None of this fools our Lord who keeps his eyes focused on his heavenly father, in the good and the bad, through temptation and suffering, all is “thy will be done”. Thy will be done!
We are in this desert of Lent for forty days and forty nights with our Lord. One of the more difficult things to understand is fasting, the kind of fasting Christ was able to do and understand that our first parents were not able to do. It is, in fact, one of the defining characteristics of Lent, fasting. There can be a loneliness that goes along with it. If you are fasting from meat while all of your coworkers order a sausage pizza on Friday, you know what I mean. Or, on days like Ash Wednesday and Good Friday where our church asks us to fast by only eating one regular sized meal and two small meals that wouldn’t equal the larger one, we may miss the community associated with dinner-time. I believe this loneliness, caused by the sin of our first parents, is often what causes us to give in to temptation and break our fast early. Yet, our Lord gives us the true spiritual value of fasting: that not even basic needs like nutrition, hydration, and oxygenation are more important than God. In God alone is our soul at rest. Our help comes from him.
And yet, we may see in this story a kind of relief as well. I mean, the one who is truly at fault is God in all of this. While he gave them a simple rule, he never explained to them why. Despite creating them in the image and likeness of himself, God expected that they not eat from that one tree. I mean, come on. Let’s face it. When we are told not to do something, isn’t that the first thing we want to do. When dad bakes a dozen cookies and leaves them out to cool, if he just says that we shouldn’t eat them and then leaves, how many will be left when he comes back? Ten? Eight? Two? But if dad tells us that he baked them for the church’s bake sale, we might be more cautious about eating them. Now we understand why we shouldn’t eat them. That was, basically, what God didn’t tell Adam Eve. He made them free, giving them the freedom to choose everything but then told them not to do this one thing and then he left. So, the real one at fault is not poor Eve who gets tricked by the erpent. Not poor stupid Adam who seems to do whatever Eve tells him to do. God is at fault for this. If he made them free, he needs to at least tell them why they aren’t allowed to eat from that tree.
And yet, maybe they just weren’t ready to understand the why. Maybe they should have been more satisfied with knowing what the rule was instead of needing to know why the rule existed. Maybe their minds just weren’t ready to understand what it meant to live in a state of original innocence. Contemporary theologians don’t even understand what this life would be like. Just try to imagine living in a world without sin, a world where the mere concept of disobedience has never been invented. It’s easier for us to imagine a world without cars or a world without knowing about the America’s. And even if we think we can understand the concept of the innocent life of our first parents, we’ll never be able to experience it, to live it. How could these hunter/gatherers ever understand that, by keeping them from that tree, he wasn’t depriving them of equality with himself, he was feeing them from the worries and uncertainties of living antagonistically towards himself.
And still, “The woman saw that the tree was good for food, pleasing to the eyes, and desirable for gaining wisdom. So she took some of its fruit and ate it; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.” They built up the wall of separation between God and humanity and began pushing us farther and farther away from our original creation in innocence when God walked with us. We were alone and lonely. And that, in part, was why God needed to send his Son to be our savior. Just as human beings moved us away from God so a Godly human could be the only one to move us back. Jesus, in the gospel, fully enters into the human experience of loneliness by entering into the desert and fasting for 40 days. And, in one of the most understated lines of scripture, after Jesus comes out of the desert, he was hungry. His loneliness and emptiness is, then, tested by the devil. He asks him three questions in which Jesus is encouraged to use his power to take control. At one point, the devil even quotes sacred scripture in an attempt to trip up the Lord, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down. For it is written: He will command his angels concerning you and with their hands they will support you, lest you dash your foot against a stone.” None of this fools our Lord who keeps his eyes focused on his heavenly father, in the good and the bad, through temptation and suffering, all is “thy will be done”. Thy will be done!
We are in this desert of Lent for forty days and forty nights with our Lord. One of the more difficult things to understand is fasting, the kind of fasting Christ was able to do and understand that our first parents were not able to do. It is, in fact, one of the defining characteristics of Lent, fasting. There can be a loneliness that goes along with it. If you are fasting from meat while all of your coworkers order a sausage pizza on Friday, you know what I mean. Or, on days like Ash Wednesday and Good Friday where our church asks us to fast by only eating one regular sized meal and two small meals that wouldn’t equal the larger one, we may miss the community associated with dinner-time. I believe this loneliness, caused by the sin of our first parents, is often what causes us to give in to temptation and break our fast early. Yet, our Lord gives us the true spiritual value of fasting: that not even basic needs like nutrition, hydration, and oxygenation are more important than God. In God alone is our soul at rest. Our help comes from him.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
catharsis
After what was (arguably) the worst week I've had as a priest, I looked down at the dead body of my friend in a casket and found peace. I've never lost a friend as close as Fr. Bob and it really turned my life upside down for a week or more. I was angry, not at God or the church or doctors, more at circumstances. I was angry that I didn't get to visit him when he was in the hospital. I was angry that Bob died in the first place.
But I had to set that aside when I got to say goodbye. Fr. Bob's classmate, Fr. Dave Schatz, did one of the best priest funeral homilies I've heard. And it helped a lot to have a visit with my spiritual director right after the funeral.
Fr. Bob never looked at me or treated me like I was some know nothing plebe barely able to know how to use the big boy potty. He treated me like a brother, a friend. We'd joke about the difference in ages but, ultimately, there was no arrogance, no snobbishness. There was nothing but respect and I will always respect him for that.
But I had to set that aside when I got to say goodbye. Fr. Bob's classmate, Fr. Dave Schatz, did one of the best priest funeral homilies I've heard. And it helped a lot to have a visit with my spiritual director right after the funeral.
Fr. Bob never looked at me or treated me like I was some know nothing plebe barely able to know how to use the big boy potty. He treated me like a brother, a friend. We'd joke about the difference in ages but, ultimately, there was no arrogance, no snobbishness. There was nothing but respect and I will always respect him for that.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Reactions to Protestants and Orthodox
I'm from Iowa and I like to think of myself as a prototypical Iowan. I love my state. And, to quote the music man, "...We're so by (gosh) stubborn we could stand touchin' noses for a week at a time and never see eye to eye...but we'll give you our shirt and our back to go with it if your crops should happen to die." Yep. That's me. I'm definitely at least partially the a product of the environment in which I have been raised.
I think that's why I have a tremendously different reaction to Protestants than I do the Orthodox. Most of the time, when Protestants criticize the church, it raises my hackles. I immediately want to defend the church from attack. I immediately think that there can be no truth to their accusations. I'm sure it comes down to personal bias since I've been attacked by Protestants ever since I left Catholic grade school. The crusades were taught to me in Middle School as the corrupt Roman Catholic Church trying to take over the lands of some peaceful Arab shepherds who rose up against the evil Roman Church despite overwhelming odds against them. Of course, none of that is really true but my EXTREMELY biased teacher never took the time to get into the complexities of history because that would be a violation of church/state separation. From there, I was told by evangelical protestants that I'm not a real Christian, that the church eats babies, that priests and nuns have sex and eat those babies at the eucharist, that catholic priests are either all gay or all pedophiles, that catholics blindly follow whatever the pope says...and on and on. Lies, all of them. Thankfully, I've also met some very friendly Lutherans and Methodists along the way that have helped repair some of the damage but my instinct, sadly, is always and likely will always be DEFEND THE POPE! Fight the Protestant!
The other day, however, I heard an Orthodox priest criticizing the Roman Catholic decision from two years ago to move the Annunciation because it fell on Good Friday. I listened patiently and thought, "You know, maybe he's right. Maybe we shouldn't have done that." A reaction which tends to be pretty typical when I hear a member of one of the Orthodox Churches criticizing Roman Catholicism. Why would I have such a different reaction to them? As I said at the beginning, I wonder if it's because I'm from Iowa where a member of the orthodox is about as rare of a species as you can get. Or if it's because I tend to view the Orthodox as actually caring about continuity. History is important. They are in this world but not of it. Orthodox priests still wear these beautiful garments and seek to stand out from a crowd by what they wear. Most Catholic priests have spent the last twenty years trying to figure out if they can look more like their protestant counterparts and get away with it. We wear suits all the time and mock priests that make the decision to wear cassocks, the clerical shirt is something you wear for more formal events otherwise you should wear "business casual", and the key is to get people to call you by your first name no longer "Father". Orthodox lay people even have a sense of distinction. They love their liturgy and their traditions...both of which go back hundreds of years if not longer.
Ultimately I think what plagues me is that I know that Christ wants us to be united, to be one as he is one with the Father and Holy Spirit. But I see us continually growing farther and farther away from the Protestants in such things as married clergy, women clergy, gay and lesbian clergy, true presence, etc. The Orthodox, despite being separated from them for 1200 years, are not going to give in to culture like many protestant groups have done. I just hope that my vision isn't clouded simply because I don't live in Greece or the Ukraine.
I think that's why I have a tremendously different reaction to Protestants than I do the Orthodox. Most of the time, when Protestants criticize the church, it raises my hackles. I immediately want to defend the church from attack. I immediately think that there can be no truth to their accusations. I'm sure it comes down to personal bias since I've been attacked by Protestants ever since I left Catholic grade school. The crusades were taught to me in Middle School as the corrupt Roman Catholic Church trying to take over the lands of some peaceful Arab shepherds who rose up against the evil Roman Church despite overwhelming odds against them. Of course, none of that is really true but my EXTREMELY biased teacher never took the time to get into the complexities of history because that would be a violation of church/state separation. From there, I was told by evangelical protestants that I'm not a real Christian, that the church eats babies, that priests and nuns have sex and eat those babies at the eucharist, that catholic priests are either all gay or all pedophiles, that catholics blindly follow whatever the pope says...and on and on. Lies, all of them. Thankfully, I've also met some very friendly Lutherans and Methodists along the way that have helped repair some of the damage but my instinct, sadly, is always and likely will always be DEFEND THE POPE! Fight the Protestant!
The other day, however, I heard an Orthodox priest criticizing the Roman Catholic decision from two years ago to move the Annunciation because it fell on Good Friday. I listened patiently and thought, "You know, maybe he's right. Maybe we shouldn't have done that." A reaction which tends to be pretty typical when I hear a member of one of the Orthodox Churches criticizing Roman Catholicism. Why would I have such a different reaction to them? As I said at the beginning, I wonder if it's because I'm from Iowa where a member of the orthodox is about as rare of a species as you can get. Or if it's because I tend to view the Orthodox as actually caring about continuity. History is important. They are in this world but not of it. Orthodox priests still wear these beautiful garments and seek to stand out from a crowd by what they wear. Most Catholic priests have spent the last twenty years trying to figure out if they can look more like their protestant counterparts and get away with it. We wear suits all the time and mock priests that make the decision to wear cassocks, the clerical shirt is something you wear for more formal events otherwise you should wear "business casual", and the key is to get people to call you by your first name no longer "Father". Orthodox lay people even have a sense of distinction. They love their liturgy and their traditions...both of which go back hundreds of years if not longer.
Ultimately I think what plagues me is that I know that Christ wants us to be united, to be one as he is one with the Father and Holy Spirit. But I see us continually growing farther and farther away from the Protestants in such things as married clergy, women clergy, gay and lesbian clergy, true presence, etc. The Orthodox, despite being separated from them for 1200 years, are not going to give in to culture like many protestant groups have done. I just hope that my vision isn't clouded simply because I don't live in Greece or the Ukraine.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Entering into Lent
As you can probably tell by my last post, these last couple of weeks have been really tough for me. I don't want to go into specifics about everything but one important piece is that my friend passed away. Fr. Bob Davies, a good and faithful priest of the Archdiocese of Dubuque and my friend passed away on the day of the Lord's resurrection, last Sunday. Bob helped me in my frist year of seminary by forcing me out of my room, away from my books, and toward books stores. He was one of three guys that I drew on when studies became wearisome and I started to feel overwhelmed, I could always count on Bob Davies to talk it out.
And, we both had a subscription to the Guthrie Theater in the Twin Cities and would travel up to see plays four or five times a year. At first, our brother Fr. Andrew Lawrence, would with us. But then he went full-time active duty as a military chaplain so that meant that Fr. Bob and I would go together. The good thing was that Fr. Bob always kept the conversation going.
I miss him a lot already and know that his funeral on Friday will be quite difficult. Please pray for the repose of his soul and pray for me too.
And, we both had a subscription to the Guthrie Theater in the Twin Cities and would travel up to see plays four or five times a year. At first, our brother Fr. Andrew Lawrence, would with us. But then he went full-time active duty as a military chaplain so that meant that Fr. Bob and I would go together. The good thing was that Fr. Bob always kept the conversation going.
I miss him a lot already and know that his funeral on Friday will be quite difficult. Please pray for the repose of his soul and pray for me too.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
a few late night reflections
I've been praying a lot about this parable recently. It's not one of Jesus' parables but, I believe, it's a preparation for it. In case you don't know about the story of David and Bathsheba from 2 Samuel 11, David basically stole another man's wife, got her pregnant, and then killed him by sending him to war. It's a little more involved than that but that will get you by. When Nathan, the prophet, is appointed to tell David that he knows what he did, Nathan uses this parable to trap David into convicting himself....
12:1 The LORD sent Nathan to David, and when he came to him, he said: "Judge this case for me! In a certain town there were two men, one rich, the other poor. 2 The rich man had flocks and herds in great numbers. 3 But the poor man had nothing at all except one little ewe lamb that he had bought. He nourished her, and she grew up with him and his children. She shared the little food he had and drank from his cup and slept in his bosom. She was like a daughter to him. 4 Now, the rich man received a visitor, but he would not take from his own flocks and herds to prepare a meal for the wayfarer who had come to him. Instead he took the poor man's ewe lamb and made a meal of it for his visitor." 5 David grew very angry with that man and said to Nathan: "As the LORD lives, the man who has done this merits death! 6 He shall restore the ewe lamb fourfold because he has done this and has had no pity." 7 Then Nathan said to David: "You are the man!"
I've been thinking about it for several reasons, but especially how often the (so called) liberals in the church proclaim that they want to get rid of the "power of the priesthood". They seek "collaboration". They want to have a "conversation" and encourage "dialogue" And then, when they get that collaboration, they are the biggest tyrants of all. They not only get to rule their own houses but they want to rule of the house of God, turning theology and ministry into something that everyone but the priest can do. They seek to take the service that the priest offers and turn it into power they can wield over people. And it's most frustrating that they claim they demand conversation and dialogue while they themselves often make unilateral decisions.
12:1 The LORD sent Nathan to David, and when he came to him, he said: "Judge this case for me! In a certain town there were two men, one rich, the other poor. 2 The rich man had flocks and herds in great numbers. 3 But the poor man had nothing at all except one little ewe lamb that he had bought. He nourished her, and she grew up with him and his children. She shared the little food he had and drank from his cup and slept in his bosom. She was like a daughter to him. 4 Now, the rich man received a visitor, but he would not take from his own flocks and herds to prepare a meal for the wayfarer who had come to him. Instead he took the poor man's ewe lamb and made a meal of it for his visitor." 5 David grew very angry with that man and said to Nathan: "As the LORD lives, the man who has done this merits death! 6 He shall restore the ewe lamb fourfold because he has done this and has had no pity." 7 Then Nathan said to David: "You are the man!"
I've been thinking about it for several reasons, but especially how often the (so called) liberals in the church proclaim that they want to get rid of the "power of the priesthood". They seek "collaboration". They want to have a "conversation" and encourage "dialogue" And then, when they get that collaboration, they are the biggest tyrants of all. They not only get to rule their own houses but they want to rule of the house of God, turning theology and ministry into something that everyone but the priest can do. They seek to take the service that the priest offers and turn it into power they can wield over people. And it's most frustrating that they claim they demand conversation and dialogue while they themselves often make unilateral decisions.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Priests in this generation
The role priests play for the church is incredibly dynamic and one that I'm constantly trying to figure out. In the early church, the presbyterate was probably a group of intelligentsia advising the bishop to ensure that the church did not get off track. It's my understanding that the bishop would not have initially been chosen from among the priests but among the deacons. I have always assumed that meant that the priests were supposed to stay in the background while the bishop put his life on the line making as close to public statements as an illegal organization can make.
Of course, when the church expanded, it became clear that priests were needed to be more than advisers to the bishop. They needed to be shepherds to small parts of the larger area the bishop led. The bishop turned into a rarely seen (though often prayed for) overseer while the priest was to be on the seen, directly involved.
What I find ironic is that parishes are somewhat being set up in this same pattern in the US. Priests are often "in charge" of large staffs who are to be in more direct contact with the people. They buffer the pastor in some ways who is seen as too busy to meet with people. Other than Sunday liturgy, the pastor is not really expected to come to most meetings or being free to talk with someone who walks in off the street. And, with the number of priests decreasing at a higher rate than the number of parishes, it could be that a "lay leader of prayer" is present at almost every Sunday Celebration (in the absence of a priest) while the priest bounces between as many as ten or twelve different parishes over the course of a month.
Some have said that this means we need to change priesthood to better fit current circumstances. I tend, instead, to think that we may need to ask, from a theological point of view, what do priests need to be for their people. Should the priest merely be an empowerer of other staff members, an overseer like the bishop ended up becoming or does the priest need to be more "in charge"? Is there a point when a diocese should feel justified in telling a parish that they cannot staff them with a priest and so they cannot remain open? If so, what characteristics define when that needs to take place? Is there any precedence for normalizing regular Sunday Celebrations in the Absence of a Priest? What effect does that have on a community?
I raise these questions without answers because I feel like they are bigger than my opinions allow for. They deserve some serious reflection, though.
Of course, when the church expanded, it became clear that priests were needed to be more than advisers to the bishop. They needed to be shepherds to small parts of the larger area the bishop led. The bishop turned into a rarely seen (though often prayed for) overseer while the priest was to be on the seen, directly involved.
What I find ironic is that parishes are somewhat being set up in this same pattern in the US. Priests are often "in charge" of large staffs who are to be in more direct contact with the people. They buffer the pastor in some ways who is seen as too busy to meet with people. Other than Sunday liturgy, the pastor is not really expected to come to most meetings or being free to talk with someone who walks in off the street. And, with the number of priests decreasing at a higher rate than the number of parishes, it could be that a "lay leader of prayer" is present at almost every Sunday Celebration (in the absence of a priest) while the priest bounces between as many as ten or twelve different parishes over the course of a month.
Some have said that this means we need to change priesthood to better fit current circumstances. I tend, instead, to think that we may need to ask, from a theological point of view, what do priests need to be for their people. Should the priest merely be an empowerer of other staff members, an overseer like the bishop ended up becoming or does the priest need to be more "in charge"? Is there a point when a diocese should feel justified in telling a parish that they cannot staff them with a priest and so they cannot remain open? If so, what characteristics define when that needs to take place? Is there any precedence for normalizing regular Sunday Celebrations in the Absence of a Priest? What effect does that have on a community?
I raise these questions without answers because I feel like they are bigger than my opinions allow for. They deserve some serious reflection, though.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
whoever does the will of my heavenly father
The gospel for today is taken from the gospel of Mark 3:31-35. Catholics often have to defend the charge that this directly points to Jesus "brothers and sisters", thus the perpetual virginity of Mary can't be true since Jesus had brothers and sisters. Over and over again, catholic scholars have pointed out the fluidity of those terms, the tradition that these are actually Jesus' cousins, and (my own personal belief) that these were likely children by Joseph's former marriages. Of course, both sides miss the larger point that this is supposed to be the beginning of people abandoning Jesus, even the 12, at his crucifixion.
What I find fascinating is that Catholics have not pointed out something else that should put Protestants on the defense. Jesus says that in order to be his mother, brother, and sister, we must "DO the will of God". This is an active verb. It's far from the sola fides of Luther. This is much closer to the notion of James, "Show me your faith and I'll show you my works."
What I find fascinating is that Catholics have not pointed out something else that should put Protestants on the defense. Jesus says that in order to be his mother, brother, and sister, we must "DO the will of God". This is an active verb. It's far from the sola fides of Luther. This is much closer to the notion of James, "Show me your faith and I'll show you my works."
Monday, January 28, 2008
Please keep in your prayers...
A good priest friend is battling for his life even as I type these words. Fr. Bob Davies was found Friday in his rectory unconscious. They transported him to two different hospitals and the doctors at the second one which are used to dealing with more critical cases believe it isn't quite the simple diabetic coma he had about a year ago. It seems as though Fr. Bob had a stroke that sent him into this. I haven't heard anything for about a day so please keep this good priest in your prayers.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Feast Day
I've had a strange couple of days. On Thursday, I had a funeral at the funeral home. On Friday, I had a wedding rehearsal in Marshalltown, Iowa and Saturday we had the wedding. Thankfully, our deacon agreed to take the homily for the weekend and he did a great job. He talked about being called in the context of St. Thomas Aquinas. If you've never heard it, St. Thomas was originally supposed to be a Benedictine because (ironically) it was considered more prestigious than the order he ended up joining, the Dominicans. But, he went with where he felt God called him. Deacon Paul then invited people to reflect on their own call. What is the call you feel God is given you.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
update
Here in Iowa, we are having our first typical Iowa winter in years. That might be an exaggeration but we haven't been above freezing in weeks and we've consistently had snow on the ground since Thanksgiving. We probably should have seen it coming since most forecasters predicted that this would be a mild winter with very little snow but it has basically been snowing for the last three days straight and it looks as though we will get a break tomorrow and then another storm moves in for Friday.
On the one hand, it should mean that students are spending a good amount of time studying but I'm finding that it's hard to concentrate since you really can't even go outside. Tonight it's supposed to be -9 with -20 wind chills. I suppose we are all preparing for Lent in this time and getting ready to give things up, even the freedom to be able to move and be outside. I'll use the time to pray for those who have no shelter from this terrible weather.
I wonder if Texas needs priests...
On the one hand, it should mean that students are spending a good amount of time studying but I'm finding that it's hard to concentrate since you really can't even go outside. Tonight it's supposed to be -9 with -20 wind chills. I suppose we are all preparing for Lent in this time and getting ready to give things up, even the freedom to be able to move and be outside. I'll use the time to pray for those who have no shelter from this terrible weather.
I wonder if Texas needs priests...
Monday, January 21, 2008
John the baptist and my first case of swearing in a homily
I was telling a story about a student who I thought was trying to know more about priests in general but who was, instead, trying to figure out if I was straight or gay. When I discovered it, I wanted to say to the kid, "That's none of your business" and that's what I had intended on saying in my homily on Sunday but, instead, I said, "That's none of your DAMN business."
That was enough to throw of the rest of my homily. I meant to talk about how John the Baptist's life led people to think he was weird but that allowed him to have a sense of perspective to talk from both outside and inside, as both a Jew and someone who was more than just a normal Jew, more holy than most of the Jews of his time. I intended on talking about how priesthood is partly about giving order to the holy, holy orders. And why priesthood is so important today and needs to be something we talk about with our kids. Unfortunately, I was so thrown off that I sort of muttered something about how priesthood is important and tapped danced around priesthood not being a sad or lonely life. All in all, it was not my best celbration of the eucharist.
That was enough to throw of the rest of my homily. I meant to talk about how John the Baptist's life led people to think he was weird but that allowed him to have a sense of perspective to talk from both outside and inside, as both a Jew and someone who was more than just a normal Jew, more holy than most of the Jews of his time. I intended on talking about how priesthood is partly about giving order to the holy, holy orders. And why priesthood is so important today and needs to be something we talk about with our kids. Unfortunately, I was so thrown off that I sort of muttered something about how priesthood is important and tapped danced around priesthood not being a sad or lonely life. All in all, it was not my best celbration of the eucharist.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
An atypical feminism conversation
I sat in out student lounge yesterday talking to three women who are students at Iowa State about a topic that you wouldn't necessarily expect: why women should be proud to be Catholic.
It all started when I noticed three women students sitting in the student lounge. I went over to say hello and one them asked if I knew anything about Edith Stein/Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. I told her I didn't and she said she thought we should get a group of people together to study her life and writings. She said that there are several people at "the University" (a term that I've learned is what you say when you don't particularly like something about Iowa State) who say the church is anti-woman and we have no response. I agreed and said that we should study the great women saints throughout history, like Felicity and Perpetua, all the Theresas, and others. I also couldn't think of the woman who convinced the Pope to move the papacy back from Avignon, France to Rome and one of them knew it was Catherine of Sienna. One of my favorite statements came from a woman who said she sat next to a male sociologist on a plane ride and the man couldn't understand how a woman could be involved in the church. Her response was that she feels like the church is the only entity that gets her. The church tells her she has dignity and that she is called by name and a child of God and that she is different from man but not less important. I was proud that one of my students would know that the church isn't the evil women oppressing agent that we are often alleged to be. She felt the call of Christ who loved women differently but equally to men.
It all started when I noticed three women students sitting in the student lounge. I went over to say hello and one them asked if I knew anything about Edith Stein/Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. I told her I didn't and she said she thought we should get a group of people together to study her life and writings. She said that there are several people at "the University" (a term that I've learned is what you say when you don't particularly like something about Iowa State) who say the church is anti-woman and we have no response. I agreed and said that we should study the great women saints throughout history, like Felicity and Perpetua, all the Theresas, and others. I also couldn't think of the woman who convinced the Pope to move the papacy back from Avignon, France to Rome and one of them knew it was Catherine of Sienna. One of my favorite statements came from a woman who said she sat next to a male sociologist on a plane ride and the man couldn't understand how a woman could be involved in the church. Her response was that she feels like the church is the only entity that gets her. The church tells her she has dignity and that she is called by name and a child of God and that she is different from man but not less important. I was proud that one of my students would know that the church isn't the evil women oppressing agent that we are often alleged to be. She felt the call of Christ who loved women differently but equally to men.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Also read one of my student's blog
One of my students whose really become a good friend is named Steve Sanda. Steve is in Rome this semester and here's his link. Go check out what he has because he will have a ton of pictures of really cool things.
http://sandainroma.blogspot.com/
http://sandainroma.blogspot.com/
Baptism of the Lord
Dearly Beloved in Christ
There’s a song made popular by a woman named Shari Lewis along with her friend, lamb chop, that goes “This is the song that doesn’t end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever just because...This is the song that doesn’t end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever just because...” and, by now, that’s sort of how I feel about the Christmas season in the church. I start to feel like I’m singing the song that doesn’t end. Stores have long ago put their discounted ornaments and villages in the back of their storage areas for next year, our left over wrapping paper and tags are put away in some closet, and our Christmas tree is probably sitting in some recycling area along with a million others. The church is the only entity that still believes the Christmas Season isn’t done and, by the looks of our tree, we are even starting to feel a little bit dry. But there’s one more thing that deserves reflection before we move onto the Ordinary Time.
Today we celebrate the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which doesn’t seem to have much to do with the season of Christmas from outset. I mean, there’s a contemporary connection with babies and baptism. Most of the baptisms we do are for infants, which is partly why our baptismal font has that rectangular raised part along the side, so that we can immerse the babies just like we do adults. (In fact, here shortly, Fr. Ev will show you what that means and I invite all of you, during the baptism, to leave your pews and come closer to see what happens during that ceremony.) But, Jesus wasn’t a baby when he was baptized, he was probably somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties when it happened. And, unlike almost every baptism that I have when I immerse a baby in the font, the first noise that is heard after baptism isn’t the noise of a baby screaming, it’s a voice that seems to continue the Epiphany of last week, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”
There’s a very interesting interaction that happens before the baptism that is, I believe, the heart of why this is a fitting conclusion to the Christmas Season. One of the seeming contradictions that the early church had to deal with was that it maintained the Jesus was born without sin and never committed sin during his life. They would say Jesus was “One like us in all things but sin.” But, it was also well known that Jesus ministry began after he had been baptized by John in the Jordan, a baptism that was known to be for the forgiveness of sin. So why would someone who was without sin need a baptism that was for the forgiveness of sin? According to the gospel, it was “to fulfill all righteousness.” In other words, Jesus didn’t come as a mere observer of the human condition, he came to be fully human. To use slightly crass language, Jesus didn’t come to be a wall flower, he came to dance.
This is important for several reasons, not the least of which is that, by becoming human and fully entering into our life, he transformed our potential so that we may enter into his life. In a sense, by God becoming human, he showed us humans a glimpse of what it means to be God. The first reading described this as God's justice. The second as God's impartiality. The Eastern Orthodox have the term deification, literally that by entering into the church we become like God. This isn’t meant in a sacrilegious way in that we can somehow have the power of God or the wisdom and understanding of God. That’s the sin of our first parents. Adam and Eve sought to be gods. As Christians, we need something to remove all our human imperfections, all things that stop us from loving God and loving neighbor, in order to become like God. Christmas would have been meaningless for us had God not shown us how we participate in it, which is what baptism is supposed to be. Just as the Eucharist is our entrance into the eternal life offered at Easter, so Baptism is our entrance into the divinity of Christ, our ability to know and appreciate that the tiny infant none of us got to see in the manger, is truly God-with-us, prince of peace. This is the salvation that cannot end. God with us so that we can be with God.
There’s a song made popular by a woman named Shari Lewis along with her friend, lamb chop, that goes “This is the song that doesn’t end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever just because...This is the song that doesn’t end, yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever just because...” and, by now, that’s sort of how I feel about the Christmas season in the church. I start to feel like I’m singing the song that doesn’t end. Stores have long ago put their discounted ornaments and villages in the back of their storage areas for next year, our left over wrapping paper and tags are put away in some closet, and our Christmas tree is probably sitting in some recycling area along with a million others. The church is the only entity that still believes the Christmas Season isn’t done and, by the looks of our tree, we are even starting to feel a little bit dry. But there’s one more thing that deserves reflection before we move onto the Ordinary Time.
Today we celebrate the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which doesn’t seem to have much to do with the season of Christmas from outset. I mean, there’s a contemporary connection with babies and baptism. Most of the baptisms we do are for infants, which is partly why our baptismal font has that rectangular raised part along the side, so that we can immerse the babies just like we do adults. (In fact, here shortly, Fr. Ev will show you what that means and I invite all of you, during the baptism, to leave your pews and come closer to see what happens during that ceremony.) But, Jesus wasn’t a baby when he was baptized, he was probably somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties when it happened. And, unlike almost every baptism that I have when I immerse a baby in the font, the first noise that is heard after baptism isn’t the noise of a baby screaming, it’s a voice that seems to continue the Epiphany of last week, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”
There’s a very interesting interaction that happens before the baptism that is, I believe, the heart of why this is a fitting conclusion to the Christmas Season. One of the seeming contradictions that the early church had to deal with was that it maintained the Jesus was born without sin and never committed sin during his life. They would say Jesus was “One like us in all things but sin.” But, it was also well known that Jesus ministry began after he had been baptized by John in the Jordan, a baptism that was known to be for the forgiveness of sin. So why would someone who was without sin need a baptism that was for the forgiveness of sin? According to the gospel, it was “to fulfill all righteousness.” In other words, Jesus didn’t come as a mere observer of the human condition, he came to be fully human. To use slightly crass language, Jesus didn’t come to be a wall flower, he came to dance.
This is important for several reasons, not the least of which is that, by becoming human and fully entering into our life, he transformed our potential so that we may enter into his life. In a sense, by God becoming human, he showed us humans a glimpse of what it means to be God. The first reading described this as God's justice. The second as God's impartiality. The Eastern Orthodox have the term deification, literally that by entering into the church we become like God. This isn’t meant in a sacrilegious way in that we can somehow have the power of God or the wisdom and understanding of God. That’s the sin of our first parents. Adam and Eve sought to be gods. As Christians, we need something to remove all our human imperfections, all things that stop us from loving God and loving neighbor, in order to become like God. Christmas would have been meaningless for us had God not shown us how we participate in it, which is what baptism is supposed to be. Just as the Eucharist is our entrance into the eternal life offered at Easter, so Baptism is our entrance into the divinity of Christ, our ability to know and appreciate that the tiny infant none of us got to see in the manger, is truly God-with-us, prince of peace. This is the salvation that cannot end. God with us so that we can be with God.
Friday, January 11, 2008
universal not unitarian
I wonder if the new heresy will be a confusion of the idea of "catholic". Some people think that it means the church is open to all new movements, that we don't close ourselves off to things. Yet, throughout the history of the church, this is a common theme. From Basil and Tertulian battling early heresies to Gregory the Great's attempt to unite the church under himself, to St. Thomas Aquinas infamous "you have heard it said...but I say" style of Socratic method, the church has had to distance herself from incorrect ideas in order to cleave more closely to Christ.
The Unitarian community in this country will take anyone regardless of what they believe. We are universal, not because you can believe whatever you want or because the church should be open to everything but because we need to communicate Christ to all the world.
The Unitarian community in this country will take anyone regardless of what they believe. We are universal, not because you can believe whatever you want or because the church should be open to everything but because we need to communicate Christ to all the world.
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