Fight Hard

In a translation full of flowery and technical sounding language (most of which I like, mind you), we come upon today's collect for the Passion of John the Baptist in the Roman Missal:

"Grant that, as he died a Martyr for truth and justice, we, too, may fight hard for the confession of what you teach."

To me, that phrase "fight hard" seems so uncharacteristically simple compared with the usual vocabulary of the Roman Missal. I would have expected something more like "contend vigorously." For whatever reason, the translators took the Latin strenue certemus and put it into very simple language, and I think we're better off for it, at least in this case.

In its simplicity, I take fight hard to have a more visceral connotation that speaks to what fighting is really all about. It comes from the gut.

My homily this morning was all about this, but with a warning. Christians don't fight to win, at least not in the worldly sense. John the Baptist didn't win; he got his head chopped off. But he still fought. He pointed at the injustices of the worldly power and screamed repentance from the rooftops. Yet as far as worldly success goes, he was a failure. He did not bring about a change of heart in King Herod, even though Herod liked to listen to him. He did not bring about change in power structures of his day. Those above him were unmoved by his words and actions. He made no vertical impact.

But those on his own level were watching. They saw his actions. They heard his words. They witnessed the disgusting authority of the powers that were react violently to his message of truth, and they preferred his way to the way of the world. They followed his finger pointing at the Lamb of God and became the followers of Jesus.

Such has it been in every age. The Christian (and sometimes the non-Christian too!) fights for justice and truth, even though the fight is in vain. Justin Martyr fought hard in writing his apologies to the emperor, but his real witness came when he lost that fight and was killed for being a Christian. We call him St. Justin Martyr, not St. Justin Writer.* We fight hard because it is right to do so. We fight hard because it is a witness. Others will see the struggle, the dedication, and the virtue of the Christian. At least, that's the hope.

We certainly hope for success in fighting injustice and institutional evil, but most of the time, it doesn't work out. That's nothing new. We fight hard because we want to be a witness for truth and justice, like St. John the Baptist, pointing his finger at the Truth Himself. We'll probably lose, but we're not in it to win. We're in it to be faithful to Him who is faithful to us.

* - This is why there are no doctors of the church who were martyrs. The term doctor of the church started out as a liturgical distinction, a way of honoring fathers of the church who were not martyred. If a father of the church were martyred, he's not named a doctor. Don't believe me? Here are a few ecclesiastical writers-turned-martyr who were never named doctors of the church: Ignatius of Antioch, Justin Martyr, Cyprian of Carthage. (Though, full disclosure: Cyprian's opinion regarding re-baptism of lapsed Christians was heterodox, and even contested by then Pope St. Stephen. He's maybe not the best candidate for a doctor of the church. But, he's a martyr, so it doesn't matter.)

Gregory the Great Destroys Me

So here's Gregory the Great on the sins of priests (including himself):

“We do not seek to gain souls; we devote ourselves daily to our own pursuits, we attend to earthly matters, we strive for human praise with all our will. From being set over others we have greater freedom to do anything we like, and so we turn the ministry we have received into an occasion for display. We abandon God’s cause, and we devote ourselves to earthly business; we accept a place of holiness and involve ourselves in earthly deeds. What is written in Hosea is truly fulfilled in us: ‘And so it will be, like people, like priest.’ A priest does not differ from the people when he does not surpass their deeds by any merit of his own.” 

- Forty Gospel Homilies, 19.

Okay. I need to go to confession.

Pope St. Gregory the Great making us all feel bad.

Ash Wednesday without Mardi Gras?

This post is a little late. I intended to get it done in time for reflection during the Carnival season, but alas, we only have a few hours left before Lent. This means it's a little rushed and unpolished, which I suppose makes it even more fitting for Fat Tuesday.

Folly and Death
photo: Carol M. Highsmith

Nevertheless, in these last few hours for those who are still awake and sober, I think it is worth exploring why we feast before we fast. The liturgical principle is the opposite. We fast before feasting: Advent before Christmas, and Lent before Easter. Yet, before Lent gets going, much of the (historically) Christian world has some kind of secular observance during which society "tanks up" before letting go of worldly attachments.

I know very little about other carnival celebrations around the world (and even around the United States for that matter). Apparently some people eat pancakes today...that's pretty under-whelming if you ask me. However, though I am ignorant of most of them, I know there is a wide variety of cultural responses to the liturgical season we call Lent. The one I know is called Mardi Gras.

I was born and raised in Mobile, Alabama, a city with a bit of a chip on her shoulder when it comes to Fat Tuesday. Overshadowed by our bigger, younger sister, New Orleans, when it comes to just about everything, especially carnival observance, Mobilians are quick to tell you that our celebration is older, more family friendly, and in general, better. I'm not here to make any of those arguments. (I will readily make them if anyone wants to have that conversation, but frankly it doesn't matter much to me.)

Mardi Gras is the day before Ash Wednesday, or rather to me (some of my clergy friends might be shocked by this) Ash Wednesday is the day that follows Mardi Gras. There has not been a single Lent of my life that was not preceded by a big party, and, but for the years I lived away from Mobile, that party was a two-and-a-half-week-long, city-wide party. Sharing in the fun with thousands of other people of all ages (none of whom feel the compulsion to expose themselves...I'm [not] looking at you New Orleans) has a profound effect on a person, especially when the next day, we all go to Mass and receive ashes. I know not everyone is Catholic or otherwise liturgical, but in my experience, you go from Tuesday streets full of people with beads and beers to Wednesday churches full of people with black marks on their heads. The weird transition is there. Many dismiss it as a moral cop out similar to the common dismissal of the Sacrament of Confession: do whatever you want, and you can be absolved right away. In this case of Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday, it's the following day!

Herein we find a problem of perspective. Is there sin and debauchery at Mardi Gras? sure, but not by necessity. So long as you're not underage, nor convinced that teetotalism is the right path, nor perhaps a recovering alcoholic, there's nothing sinful in having a drink. There's also nothing sinful in having a drink in public. Drunkenness and carousing I will readily grant are going too far, and yes, many go way too far at Mardi Gras, but that doesn't mean we discredit the whole cultural phenomenon as sinful or even morally neutral.

I believe there is something good about Mardi Gras, or Carnival, or Shrove Tuesday, or whatever it is you call it. It all has to do with the reality of conversion.

Let's talk about Qoheleth. (If you've never read the book of Ecclesiastes, you need to stop reading this blog and go read it, because it's far more important than anything I'm writing. However, assuming you're already familiar with it, let's proceed.)

Each year during the Carnival season, we live out Qoheleth's discovery of the vanity of all things, especially the vanity of putting off our conversion, our penance, our suffering, and ultimately our death. Those are all things we want to deal with tomorrow, not today. Fat Tuesday embraces silliness and folly, pretending that death will not come.

In no way is this illustrated better than by the emblem float of the Order of Myths, who parade Mardi Gras evening in Mobile. A jester, the personification of Folly, chases Death, personified by a skeleton, around a pillar, beating him with inflated pig bladders. (There's no significance of the pig bladders that I know of. They make a really loud POP when you hit something with them, and so are an ideal tool for revelry.) Folly beats back Death...in vain. We all know it's in vain. We all know it's temporary. We all know that tomorrow is coming, and with it austerity, repentance, and ultimately goodness. Today we try in vain to find our fulfillment in this world. Tomorrow, we'll get to work finding it where it truly lies: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

Note it's not Wisdom or Courage that tries to beat back Death. It's Folly. And if it's Folly to try and put off Death, then that means it doesn't actually work. Yet we try anyway, time and again, and time and again we're called back into reality, the desert of Lent.

Ash Wednesday is a noble tradition, a powerfully harsh beginning to the fast of Lent, meant to wake us up out of our dull slumber, as cold water dumped on a late sleeper. Preceding Ash Wednesday with Fat Tuesday amplifies that shock even further.  Ash Wednesday following Fat Tuesday is a tangible reminder that we are being called out of our stupidity into holiness.

Make no mistake, I'm not confusing the fun that comes prior to Lent with the joy and glory of the Lord's Resurrection. Lent exists because of Easter, not because of Carnival, and rightly so. We empty ourselves during Lent so as to be filled with Christ, and Christ alone. Only through that journey will we find what we are truly looking for. Still, how much more complete is the picture when considering the whole movement? from folly to self denial to true joy.

This is the story of conversion. In order to turn toward Jesus Christ, we have to turn away from something else. We all live out Folly's dream to chase off Death, to put off conversion to a later date, to pretend that the way things are now is "alright" and we don't require change.

Symbols speak to the human person much more loudly than concepts. Never limit the truth to words. Truth is communicated in ways a thousand times more profound than mere words. Carnival is a secular response to a religious practice, but that does not make it any less valuable. It just means there is a default human reaction to the call to repentance: stupidity.

I don't advocate debauchery, gluttony, lust, or drunkenness. However, I recognize that we are all drunk on our sins, in one way or another. Tomorrow, we will likely wake up hungover on those same sins. It might not be literally tomorrow, but we will all eventually find the emptiness and pain our sins cause, just as Qoheleth did. Hopefully that day comes sooner rather than later. Hopefully it comes tomorrow (which for me is a couple of hours away).

On the superficial level (which is by no means unimportant), Mardi Gras is fun. It's a good time. Yet if I dig deeper, I find that it is a powerful reminder to me of my "no" to God. Quite frankly, there are few stronger motivators for me to say "yes" to him tomorrow.

Female Altar Servers? No Problem

It's a pretty common opinion among my generation of priests that the presence of female altar servers makes boys less desirous of serving at the altar, and therefore less likely to hear the call to priesthood. I strongly disagree. I'm tired of the statistics being twisted (the ones that accurately show that most new priests were once altar servers) to suit the polemic against altar girls.

It's not girl altar servers that push boys (or anyone) away from altar serving. Rather, it's sub-par altar server training. It's the failure to give children actual responsibilities. It's lazy and lackluster liturgy. All of those things have been pretty much concurrent with the presence of female altar servers. To blame the middle/high school age altar server exodus on mere presence of girls is to completely ignore the real issues.

I was an altar server. One of my fellow priests was also an altar server with me, same age, same parish. There were a ton of female altar servers too. Neither of us were driven away from serving nor from the priesthood. Why? We loved serving. We were taught well, and we had responsibilities. We enjoyed being good at what we did, and we didn't want to let anyone down. That's really all it took to keep our interest. The gender of the participants had nothing to do with it.

Furthermore, the presence of female servers in no way hindered the parochial vicar (who was in charge of the servers) from encouraging priestly vocations all the time. We heard about it on a regular basis, and in fact, that's where I got the idea.

If you are half-hearted in your training of altar servers, you'll get half-hearted servers that think what they're doing is lame. And that's how you lose altar servers. Blaming it on girls is a red herring that needs to go away.

Can this song please just go away?

Mary did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?

In no other case is "smh" more appropriate.

(For those who don't know, smh means "shaking my head." Don't feel bad. I didn't know that one till a couple months ago.)

While I certainly have a tendency to rant and rail against any number of things, I am not one who lightly makes polemics about religious songs. I do my best to see the good in religious art, even when it might be from a different tradition or take a little poetic license. I am a staunch defender of Amazing Grace, a hymn which many super Catholics denounce as heretical. I thought it was beautiful when Sr. Cristina Scuccia (winner of Italy's The Voice) recorded Like a Virgin for her first album (whereas, many other Christians were scandalized). I'm not interested in black listing songs or suppressing artful expression.

All of that said, I have zero love for "Mary Did You Know." Art has great power, and, especially when it comes to religious art, we need to be aware of how that power is affecting us.

Before I really get going on this, I will say that I don't mean to disregard the talent of the many artists who have performed this song, nor even that of Buddy Greene and Mark Lowry, the song's co-writers. They created something they thought was beautiful (or rather, something just about everyone thinks is beautiful), and if its subject matter were any other human being who ever lived, it would be. However, in reality, it is a misleading portrait of the Mother of the Church.

If you are one of the many who think that "Mary Did You Know" is a worthwhile reflection on Mary's perspective on her Son, I invite you to re-examine your understanding of the Blessed Mother. You might say that it makes her feel more human, more like us, but I respond that in her place in God's plan she is the most human, an elevation of humanity, what humanity should have been in the first place...you know, without sin. I don't need to identify with yet another sinner. There are plenty of those to go around. There are any number of good, respectable, and even heroic people who were sinners. We call them saints, and there are loads of them. I pray to them all the time, and I identify with their stories.

Yet Mary is not merely a saint. In my search for intercessors and exemplars, I have need of something beyond just the saints, someone higher than them. You might say angels fit that bill, but they aren't human. No, this need is only fulfilled by tapping into the hope and beauty that is the perfection of our nature, without stain of sin. Of course we already have the New Adam in the person of Jesus Christ, but there is something truly beautiful about the New Eve in her perfect humanity. I need my Mama.

That's not to say that Mary never knew fear or doubt or difficulty--even Jesus in his humanity experienced those thing--but this song takes it way too far. Here's why I can't abide "Mary Did You Know:"

"Mary Did You Know" imagines a Mary who is clueless as to who her Son is, an ignorant Mary who doesn't know as much about Jesus as we Christians do. How absurdly condescending! We don't need to bring Mary down to our level, and we certainly don't need to put her beneath us. Who among us knows Jesus better than Mary? She carried the King of kings in her womb, yet we would lecture her on who he is.

The song speaks to Mary as though she is unworthy of our veneration. It ignores her place in our salvation. It relegates her motherhood as a mere plot device in the Gospels. That's such an impoverished take on Divine Providence. God had chosen Mary from the very beginning. That's why she's special. There is a difference between Mary and us.

Before you get all argumentative (and I some of you will), I do understand that the intended effect of the song is to teach us about Jesus, not Mary. It's not lost on me that one of the more creative and profound ways to teach about Jesus is to speak of his mother, but there's a right way to do that. The Council of Ephesus called Mary "Theotokos" (Mother of God). That sounds like it's just a positive thing to say about Mary, but it's actually done to teach us about the unity of Jesus' human and divine natures. If Mary is his mother, she's the mother of the one Person Jesus Christ, who is fully human and fully divine. She's not just the Mother of Christ (his humanity), but the Mother of God. The Council of Ephesus succeeded both stating the truth about Jesus, and saying something positive about Mary. "Mary Did You Know" states the truth about Jesus at the expense of his mother.

To me it is a real shame that in Catholic churches across the nation, this song will be sung during Advent and Christmas. I can think of probably 50 songs that get at the true nature of the Mother of God, all so much more beautiful than this song from 1994 (when Ace of Bass topped the charts). Check out the words of this hymn to Mary written by a Anglican convert to Catholicism that sums up most of what we believe about Our Lady:

Holy light on earth’s horizon,
star of hope to fallen man,
light amid a world of shadows,
dawn of God’s redemptive plan,
chosen from eternal ages,
you alone of all our race,
by your Son’s atoning merits
were conceived in perfect grace.

Mother of the world’s Redeemer,
promised from the dawn of time:
how could one so highly favoured
share the guilt of Adam’s crime?
Sun and moon and stars adorn you,
sinless Eve, triumphant sign;
you it is who crushed the serpent,
Mary, pledge of life divine.

Earth below and highest heaven,
praise the splendour of your state,
you who now are crowned in glory
were conceived immaculate.
Hail, beloved of the Father,
Mother of his only Son,
mystic bride of Love eternal, hail,
O fair and spotless one!


Or, just be reminded of the words of the Hail Holy Queen:

Hail, Holy Queen, mother of Mercy,
our life, our sweetness, and our hope!
To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve.
To thee do we send up our sighs,
mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.
Turn then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us,
and after this our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
O Clement, O Loving, O Sweet Virgin Mary!

All Life is Sacred

Brittany Maynard's decision was wrong, but not for the reasons you think.

What I'm seeing on the inter-webs is that many Christians feel that the only reason to be disappointed in Brittany Maynard's decision to end her life is if you group it in as a suicide. Suicide is wrong, therefore she was wrong. At this, I shake my head.

Technically speaking, yes, suicide is the term for what happened to Brittany Maynard. However, to pretend that the underlying cause of her actions is comparable to that of a more stereotypical suicide (for lack of a better term) is about as mature a position as young earth creationism. Suicide is a different issue (and is itself a vastly complicated one). Many progressive bloggers have keyed in on this distinction and concluded that maybe she wasn't wrong to end her life, some going so far as to say Brittany Maynard didn't commit suicide.

Coming at it from that point of view is a red herring. Suicide is not what we should be talking about. What is disappointing about Brittany Maynard's decision in particular and society at large is that so many believe that human dignity is rooted in quality of life. Life is only worth living if it can be lived under ideal conditions. That is simply untrue. Human life is by nature dignified, even if it's imperfect.

I readily admit that it would have been very difficult for Brittany Maynard to continue living - clearly her prognosis was dire. However, pain, suffering, and the loss of faculties do not empty life of its dignity.

The notion that quality of life is the measure of the dignity of life is related to the horrendous fact that in the United States, 92% of children with trisomy 21 (Down syndrome) are aborted. Reflect on that for a moment. What might cause parents to make that choice? The child is atypical? It will be more challenging for the parents? It's not what the parents imagined life or parenting to be like? Maybe it's something else besides, but whatever the cause, it's terribly sad. It betrays a survival-of-the-fittest mentality when it comes to human dignity. The only people who should live are those who's lives are worth living.

Here the reader will begin to write off the comparison, because I'm using Brittany Maynard's sad case as an opportunity to make a point about abortion. But to be pro-life is not just a question of abortion stance. The Christian is called to recognize that all human life is sacred: the child in the womb, the terminally ill patient, and yes even the convicted criminal. I am saddened that Brittany Maynard could not see the beauty of her life in spite of suffering, just as I am saddened that so many parents can't see the beauty in a disabled child and that so many Christians insist that criminals deserve death. None of us is in a position to point at a given human life and say, "end it," just as none of us is in a position to walk through the Louvre, point at a particular work of art and say, "destroy it."

Then there's this:
I've also seen people say that the reason Brittany Maynard was wrong is because it is God's decision when we die, not our own. I think that is an awful thing to say. The book of Wisdom teaches us, "God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living." (Wisdom 1:13) We are not on this earth to patiently await the time God has chosen to kill us. We are on this earth to be filled to brimming with the love of God, and then let that love be poured out of us into the world until such time as we are spent. "If you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." (Bl. Mother Teresa)

Very plainly, the reason Brittany Maynard's decision was misguided is that her life still had value, even if she could not see it. Broken as she was, and as we all are, Brittany Maynard never ceased to be God's beautiful creation. It would have been heroic for her to go on living, and sometimes, heroism is precisely what God calls us to.

Still, though I've said her actions were wrong, I do still hope to see her in the Kingdom. If God in his goodness would deign to forgive my great sins, surely he can forgive someone who unfortunately did not recognize the Divine Image in her own heart. In the build up to her decision, I wished for all the world to have some way of communicating that truth to her, but, as Thomas Merton said, "There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun."

This is November, the month of praying for the dead:

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, 

and let perpetual light shine upon her.

May her soul and the souls of the faithful departed 

through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

All Saints' Day Homily

I don't ever post homilies, but since this one will only be delivered once (tomorrow is All Souls' Day, so the homily will be quite different), I figured I'd make it a bit more accessible. (And yes, I did steal a line from Louis CK.)

John makes a rather peculiar assumption in this evening's second reading: "The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him [Jesus]."

"The reason the world does not know us..."

"The world does not know us."

Really? The world does not know us? Is that true? Let's give a face to "the world," and ask the question, "does that guy know me?" I wonder if we're really all that estranged from a personification of "the world."

The world is greed.

He is the desire for more, and more, and more. The world is wanting to have the newest thing, searching for happiness in money and power. The world is having desires fulfilled as soon as possible. He despises patience and loves next day air. The world is greed. Does the world know you?

The world is envy.

The world is always thinking about what other people have, despising the blessings God has given to him. The world looks in the other person's bowl, not to check that they have enough, but to see how unfair it is that they have and he does not. The world is envy. Is he your friend?

St. John assumes that the world does not know us...

The world is gluttony.

The world is perpetually bored, consuming food and drink and entertainment, because, well, what else is there to do? The world stays up all night binge watching TV shows. The world wastes hours on the internet and playing video games. The world is gluttony. Are you a stranger to the world?

The world is lust.

The world pretends to love the sexual act, but actually hates it, using it in all the wrong ways. The world is addicted to pornography, and that doesn't bother him, because everyone uses it, right? The world sees other humans as objects not subjects. The world constantly makes sexist jokes and sexist policies. The world is captivated by someone else's spouse, or a live in girlfriend or boyfriend. The world is lust. Does the world know you?

The world is sloth.

The world is lazy and listless. The world insists that no one encroach on his time. The world sits on the couch and takes for granted those he loves and who love him. He always keeps his options open. The world knows what the right thing to do is, but hesitates to do it, sits on his hands, and it goes undone. The world is sloth. Does the world know you?

The world is anger.

The world knows just what's wrong with people today, what's wrong with everybody else. The world will admit a vague sense that he know's he's not perfect...but do you know what that other guy did? Did you hear? ... The world is a gossip. The world curses uncontrollably, especially when he's driving or watching football. The world is angry with his wife more often than he finds himself enjoying being with her. The world never compromises. The world is anger. How familiar is the world with you?

The world is pride.

The world doesn't listen. The world wants things his way. He's frustrated that people just don't get it. The world rolls his eyes at his superiors, usually behind their back. He's really good at imagining what he should have said to that person. The world is self-absorbed, but at the same time, hates himself, because he knows deep down that he's not as good as he tells everyone else...definitely not as good as the facade he presents on Facebook. The world is pride. Are you a stranger to the world?

Again, St. John takes it for granted that we are strangers to the world, for the saints are. That's why holy people stick out so easily and draw so much criticism. To the extent that they are captivated by heavenly things, their relationship with the world is neglected more and more.

Most saints started out as close friends with the world. They were old drinking buddies. But growing in holiness is sort of like what happens when a person settles down, gets married, gets a job, has kids, matures, or otherwise no longer has time for his immature friends. He feels awkward around them. He doesn't care as much about the things they want to talk and joke about. He has to leave early to get back to his life. Eventually he becomes estranged from them. He says hello every now and then, but his life has changed.

That process of leaving our old "friends" behind is precisely what conversion means. We grow further and further apart from our old drinking buddy, (but we might not even notice it as it's happening). We begin to care about other things and neglect our old friendship with the world.

But here is the question. Here is what determines whether we're on the path to sanctity, that great quality of being a saint:

Who is it that we're growing apart from? Can I more truthfully say:

"I am neglecting my relationship with the world."

or

"I am neglecting my relationship with God."

The Body of the Deceased

Concerning preparations for funerals and plans for burial or cremation (both for loved ones and one's self), there is a common theme I hear with regard to the body of the deceased: "That's not Mom." "It's just a shell." "Of course, Dad's not here [in the casket]." It's not universal. Not everyone talks that way, but many do.

As All Souls' Day approaches, I just want to remind people (Catholics in particular) that the human body is sacred. True, the dead body is dead, and it is no longer informed by the soul. It will indeed return to dust, as we are reminded on Ash Wednesday. However, it is still the beautiful creation of God, even if it will soon decay. This is part of why the Church for such a long time banned the practice of cremation (though the main part was its cultural ties to paganism and a rejection of the belief in the resurrection of the dead). The human body is to be honored as something good and holy, for it is God's creation. That's why a person's remains are sprinkled with holy water, covered with a pall, and incensed, not to mention the Bible and crucifix placed upon the casket. These are outward signs as we remember and pray for the person's soul, yes, but they are also geared towards our reverence for the body.

The human person is composed of both body and soul. A little known implication of that reality is this: human beings are incomplete in heaven. (Wait, what?) No, I don't mean that humans are not completely fulfilled by the beatific vision of God.  Souls are perfectly happy in the presence of God. Rather, I mean that God created us as bodily creatures, so to exist without a body leaves us incomplete in God's plan for us. That's why we have that line in the Nicene Creed that you might not have contemplated before: "I look forward to the resurrection of the dead." The dead will be raised at the end of time, not because God wants to engineer some kind of awesome or macabre spectacle. The dead will be raised because Jesus Christ was raised, and we who have died with him will also rise with him.

For this reason, cemeteries are considered holy places! They aren't unholy or unclean. They aren't scary or evil. Horror movies and popular Halloween traditions might tell us otherwise, but I assure you, graveyards are good and holy places.

So when you think of what you want done when you've passed away, or as you prepare for a loved one's death, keep these beliefs in mind. The human body is sacred, and it will one day be reunited with the soul.

[In case you're wondering, cremation is now an acceptable practice in the Church, and there is even a rite of burial specific to it. It is allowable under two conditions: it's not a denial of the resurrection of the body, and the remains will be deposited in a fitting location, like a columbarium. Scattering ashes and placing them on the mantle are not acceptable in the Catholic Church.]

More Than You Can Handle

An old saying has really been getting put down lately, and not without reason.  I understand the point that people are making, and I kind of agree.  However, the Fathers of the Church are generally better at communicating the faith than we are, so let's take a look back.

The saying to which I refer is, "God will never give you anything you can't handle," or some variation on that.  The common deconstructionist retort these past few months has been that he most certainly will and does give you more than you can't handle.  Just Google the phrase and you'll quickly find at least a handful of bloggers devaluing the poor old truism.

But let's look at how St. Basil the Great words it:  "First, let me say that we have already received from God the ability to fulfill all his commands.  We have then no reason to resent them, as if something beyond our capacity were being asked of us.  We have no reason either to be angry, as if we had to pay back more than we had received."

Aha!  There's a bit of nuance here.  The old saying has it in terms of not being able to handle the things God gives us (things generally being understood as situations or problems), but the only things Basil talks about God giving us are commands.  God doesn't give us problems; he gives us commands.  Interesting.

The pesky bloggers have understood the saying to mean that God will not cause you to be in a situation where you will... "What?" they say, "not be able to handle it?  But of course he will!  He does all the time!"  And the bloggers go on to describe all the situations that they or those close to them have been unable to handle.

Basil's version is so much clearer.  The point is not for us to "handle" situations.  The point is not for us to maintain control all the time.  The point is for us to be faithful throughout.  Yes, we will be confronted by problems in life that are un-solvable.  We will lose our composure.  We will lose our money.  We will lose friends.  We will lose our calm.  Yet, Basil would tell us that all of that stuff is fair game.  It's totally alright to lose all of those things.  Tribulation will come.  The only goal we should have is our faithfulness to God's commands during that tribulation.

People emphatically cannot handle the death of their children.  They absolutely cannot handle witnessing genocide.  God never asks anyone to have all the answers.  He does not command us to "handle it," to "take it like a man," or to "deal with it."  He wants us to learn how to suffer well, for suffer we must.  We are called to suffer like Christ.

Christ's body (guess what) didn't handle it.  Christ was crushed, broken, killed.  Nobody's there telling Jesus to "deal with it."  Rather, he patiently suffers.  He trusts in his Father.  He is faithful to the end.  While the deconstructionist bloggers may have it technically right--God most certainly will give you more than you can handle--they're also missing the point.  It's not our place to stay in control, to "handle" situations.  Success is God's business; faithfulness is ours.

Funny thing is, I don't think I find myself in disagreement with the conclusions reached by most of those "pesky" bloggers, as I have named them.  I just disagree with their headlines and titles, designed thus to grab your attention.  They may grab your attention, but I think they're throwing the baby out with the bath water.

Conceived in Rape

Please watch the video.  I am not a woman and furthermore not a victim of rape, so, if my comments are off, please forgive me my ignorance.



A child conceived in rape is automatically seen as someone who shouldn't exist.  Even this woman admits that when she found out the truth, she felt her "value" had dropped.  Children should be conceived in love.  That is the way things are supposed to be.  But children of rape are conceived in hatred, anger, lust, fear, abuse, etc.  Because their beginning is so far from where children "should" come from, they are worth less in our eyes.  The already enormous pain suffered by a victim of rape shouldn't have to be augmented by the physical and emotional burden of carrying a child conceived in such a way.  That is what many believe (I think).

Two things against that:

First, even if the human beginnings of a child conceived in rape are evil, the inherent worth of that little person as a child of God is never lost.  Just as God is my Father more profoundly than my biological father and mother (who in my case, conceived me in love), so God is the Father of a child conceived in rape, regardless of the despicable acts of that child's earthly father.  The child is good and unrepeatable, an object of God's love and attention, every bit as much as you or I.

Second, we are not meant for ordinary lives.  The ordinary choice is to abort the child of rape.  That's what is expected, because such a child shouldn't exist.  The victim/mother has suffered enough.  It's too much for her to suffer the stigma of carrying that child, to bear the physical burden of child birth, or to endure the emotional turmoil that no doubt such a pregnancy would bring.  That's too much to ask someone who has already needlessly suffered an awful indignity.

But I say that we need to stop settling for what is ordinary, for merely what is needed to get by.  Each one of us, in our own way, can be a hero.  Heroism is what our world needs--the hidden heroism of a victim of rape who chooses not to abort.  We need to stop encouraging one another to just get through crises.  Instead, it's time we began helping one another rise above them.  

It breaks my heart (not to mention angers me) that so many prominent pro-lifers out there say that God intends for women to be raped or that it is their own fault or anything of that sort.  It is a horrible poverty of mind and heart to say that because God is the creator of all life, even the child of rape, he must have therefore "willed" that the rape take place.  No, no, no!  That is stupidity.  That is blasphemy.

God is so good and so powerful that he relentlessly brings good out of evil and places a light even in the darkest of situations.  How powerfully and beautifully did love overcome evil the day this woman's mother decided not to abort.  What a brilliant light shining for all to see.

A life taking choice does not undo the outrage of rape.  It does not take away the evil committed.  It does not expedite a return to normalcy for the victim.  

Let us give life, not take it.

Greed is the Opposite of Thanksgiving

You may say it's not greed to be frugal, much less to buy a gift for someone else.  Often, shoppers on Black Thursday/Friday are simply seeking the best deals on their gift purchases.  In general, I suppose there's a point to be made there, but given the particular context, I'm gonna have to call shenanigans.

Is our Thanksgiving expression of gratitude really sincere if the very next day (or even the same day), we go out and demand more stuff?  What are we telling the ones we love if we encourage them to be thankful, but still feel the need to shower them with the latest and greatest?

Thanksgiving is the only example of American culture per se that we can call praiseworthy, yet we have sullied it by juxtaposing it on the calendar with one of the worst examples of American culture, unrestrained greed.

In making plans for this coming week, please consider the following. Notice any similarities?

Time to Calm Down

It's pieces like this that annoy me into defending the pope.  It's not because I think the pope needs my help; it's because this stuff frustrates me to an extreme degree (and that is my own fault).

In the course of reading this particular phonebook of a post, I went through a bizarre emotional process which started with me keeping track of every single flaw in the presentation, peaked at an intense desire to author a reply with the full force of my mind grapes, only to come crashing down into a what's-the-point kind of apathy.

I need to stop letting people do this to me.

Maybe I should give it a rest.  I'm considering limiting all the Pope Francis related literature I read to only what he himself has said or written.  It will probably do wonders for my soul and my inner calm.

Same Old Same Old

In seminary, I put a name to a tendency I had noticed in the Church. It was everywhere, infesting our approaches to preaching, to youth ministry, to sacramental preparation, to catechesis, and even to the Church's varied forays into the media, old or new. I called it the "Same Old Same Old."

It was everywhere, but it annoyed me the most when it reared its ugly head in a homily. There are reasons for that. In seminary, you attend Mass everyday, which means you are confronted with a homily everyday. Who's preaching? It's the seminary faculty, a group of men who see what they are doing as immensely important--and they're not incorrect. They're forming men to the priesthood, and that task is a sacred one. They rightly take it very seriously and pour heroic effort into each homily they prepare. I heard many an eloquent and pious oration which really did spur me on to deeper conversion.

Yet, when your mind is daily assaulted by such homilies, each one prepared as though it is the most important thing the listener will ever hear, weariness is an expectable byproduct. Such weariness was compounded by the fact that, no matter how passionately delivered or well prepared, the vast majority of homilies were nothing but the Same Old Same Old.

What is the Same Old Same Old? Stagnation is too strong a word. The Same Old Same Old is taking exactly what one receives and passing it along without tainting it with one's own unworthy influence. It arises from a very healthy and orthodox notion: that our faith is apostolic. We believe what the Apostles believed and handed down to us via what we have come to call Tradition. Thus, what is old is good. What we believe, we have believed from the beginning.

The Same Old Same Old is a perversion of that very beautiful apostolic mark of the Church. It is the attempt (intentional or not) to preach only the exact things the Church has always taught without an ounce of creativity or vulnerability. This way, faithfulness to Church teaching is guaranteed, as well as the pure, unadulterated Gospel. Zero impurities are allowed through the Same Old Same Old filter. It is, in a word, "safe" to preach the Same Old Same Old. It is also easy.

But I'll tell you what it's not: helpful.

The Same Old Same Old insists that the way we've always done things, said things, taught things, sung about things: that is the only valid way. We're going to stick to it. Thus, we can be certain that we shall never deviate from the true faith. At what price this straight and narrow path? boring homilies, empty pews, a cold, uninviting church...but at least that church has rigidly correct doctrine! With two thousand years of tried and true methods and formulas, we are able to preserve without stain the faith of the Apostles, even if no one is around to actually profess it.

What's wrong with this picture? Well, a lot if things, obviously, but there's one thing that is the root of it all. The safe and easy Same Old Same Old is our human way of ensuring that "the gates of hell will not prevail against" the Church Christ founded on Peter. The problem is that it is not our job to ensure that. That's not how it's supposed to work.

What is it that makes the Church indefectible and infallible? Is it our efforts? Absolutely not! The only thing that keeps the Church one, holy, catholic, and apostolic is the Power of the Spirit, first sent upon the Church at its very birth at Pentecost. To embrace the Same Old Same Old as a method of preserving orthodoxy is a failure to trust in God's providential guidance of the Church. We are not the guarantors of infallibility; He is.

Now clearly, throughout the history of the Church and today, real effort on our part is required to learn, profess, and teach the Truth. I would not contest that. God doesn't magically keep our thoughts and words orthodox. However, if we only regurgitate the truth as expressed by previous generations, we are doing the Truth and its (potential) hearers a real disservice, not to mention selling ourselves short. We're obscuring the Truth by insisting that we ourselves have no part in the Truth. Are we not rational animals, stamped with the Divine Image, created with an innate desire for the Truth? Our hearts are made to beat in time with the Truth, our mouths to proclaim It, our minds to explore It, and our entire selves to be immersed in It.

Why then in our communication of the Truth to others do we hide ourselves by sticking only to the Same Old Same Old, merely trusting that the Spirit would guide the Apostles, but not us? The Apostles themselves didn't stick to the Same Old Same Old; it didn't exist yet. They were evangelizing the world by speaking off the cuff. (Sound familiar?)

I do not mean to imply that we should introduce new or heterodox elements to teaching. That's another problem. I'm saying we should introduce ourselves into the teaching. That's what I mean by the creativity and vulnerability that are stifled by the Same Old Same Old.

Now, all of this may sound good, and interesting, and relevant...but also terribly impractical and amorphous. How do we add creativity and vulnerability to our preaching (and teaching and youth ministry and sacramental preparation and forays into the media, old and new)? What does that even mean?

Up until now, I have not had an answer to that question. Up until now words to describe this problem have escaped me. Up until now I have only had this vague idea of what I do and do not want my ministry to be like. The Same Old Same Old was detectable only by discernment through gut feelings. That's why I've never written about it before (though some of my buddies from seminary may remember me talking about it). Up until now... Ah, but what has changed now?

We have Francis now. We have a living breathing antithesis to the Same Old Same Old, and he happens to also be the Vicar of Christ. I don't have a codified description of what to do or not to do to avoid the Same Old Same Old, but I do have a pope who is both creative and vulnerable. He is faithful to what the Church teaches, but he is unencumbered by a need to display that teaching in its entirety every time he opens his mouth. He teaches as Christ teaches, by giving us a model to follow. I look forward to hearing more from him, and I look forward to a Catholic Church that is more creative and more vulnerable. (and no less faithful to Tradition!)

What is Communion?

As promised, I've decided to spill some digital ink explaining why all that stuff that happens at Mass after Communion is worth sticking around for. It's a common thing for people to receive Communion and then bolt, but I want to insist that the concluding rites of the Mass are very important and shouldn't be treated like movie credits.

I'll go through all the post-Communion elements of the Mass one by one, but before I do, a note on what Communion is.

If you're Catholic, you're undoubtedly aware that the Blessed Sacrament we receive in Holy Communion is the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. That probably has something to do with why you stay long enough to receive it. It is clearly the high point of the Mass, and everyone knows this. Thus, even though some may arrive late, they will not dare to leave prematurely (that is, before having received Communion), because even if their faith is not strong, they at least know to some degree that there is something of great value in it.

People stick around at Mass, why? To get what is coming to them. Whether it is ashes on Ash Wednesday, palms on Palm Sunday, throat blessings on the feast of St. Blaise, Catholics show up to get stuff. And that's no less different on Sunday. Very many people show up to Mass on Sunday to receive Communion, and once they have, they're gone. They got what they came for.

I think that's because we misunderstand what Communion is. We fall prey to the arrogance of assuming that we have a merely personal relationship with God. While it truly is a wonder that God is present to us in the Eucharist and that such an unprecedented intimacy between Creator and created is achieved, that's not the end of the story. Communion isn't a bunch of individuals finding their own one-on-one intimacy with God. The church is not at that moment full of a set of exclusive connections between God and this or that human being. Individuality is meaningless in the reception of the Blessed Sacrament. Holy Communion is the Christian community as a whole entering into union with Christ, the Body united with the Head.

Imagine if the different parts of the body were united individually to the head: a finger sprouting from the forehead of a severed head, or the head balancing as it is attached directly to a leg above the knee. These monsters, in addition to being gruesome, are also meaningless. None of them constitutes a human being. None of them is a whole. They are fractions, incomplete, and disgustingly so.

That's how wrong it is for us to persist in the error of believing merely that my reception of Communion is only about me and my situation. We are one Body of which he is the Head.

So while there is something natural about kneeling silently in private thanksgiving after receiving Communion, it also fails to grasp the weight of the moment, if it is in truth private. Silence is good, and individual effort and focus is necessary for a sincere sacrifice of praise, but anything that ignores the individual's place among the community of believers furthermore ignores the true meaning of Communion.

And if that's the case, then getting up and leaving altogether immediately following Communion is far more nonsensical. It is completely opposed to what is happening as the Church receives Holy Communion. That's reason número uno that you shouldn't rush out of Mass before it's over. The posts to follow will address more specifically the elements of the Mass that you miss if you do.

Quotes from St. Gregory Nazianzen

Happy Feast of Sts. Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen!

A while ago, I started reading through all the works of St. Gregory Nazianzen, and as I went, I kept track of all the quotes that I really appreciated.  I stopped reading after a while (need to pick it back up), but I accumulated a whole bunch of quotes.  Sometimes I picked a quote because it was just a cool turn of phrase I appreciated.  Sometimes I picked a quote because it was particularly deep.  Most of these are short one-liners.  Anything longer I just highlighted or recorded elsewhere.

Gregory Nazianzen (or G-Nasty as I call him for short) is one of my favorite saints, and definitely my favorite Father of the Church.  There are so many quotes here, I haven't even read them all a second time.  Enjoy:

Oration I
"Let us forgive all offenses for the Resurrection's sake." - Oration I.1
"Let us give back to the Image what is made after the Image.  Let us recognize our Dignity." - Oration I.4
"One can give nothing like oneself." - Oration I.5

Oration II
"I have been defeated, and own my defeat." - Oration II.1
"to provide the soul with wings" - Oration II.22
"the emptied Godhead" - Oration II.23
"the novel union between God and man" - Oration II.23
"tree is set over against tree" - Oration II.25
"the lifting up to atone for the fall" - Oration II.25
"give up the clay to the spirit" - Oration II.28
"self-respect: the source of persuasiveness (lit. 'the medicine of persuasion')" - Oration II.32
"aiding them readily to conceive a hope of better things" Oration II.32
"The pure alone can grasp Him Who is pure." - Oration II.39 (useful in talking about Purgatory)
"Some need to be fed with the milk of the most simple and elementary doctrines, vis., those who are in habit babes…" - Oration II.45
Speaking of Paul:  "…he handles mysteries" - Oration II.54
"the miry clay in which we have been fixed" - Oration II.91
"before my eyes had been accustomed to gaze safely upon created things, with wonder only for the Creator, and without injury to the creature" Oration II.95
After a long list of names of Christ:  "these names so pregnant with reality" - Oration VII.98
"the magnitude of success, the utter ruin of failure" - Oration VII.99
"It is better to be honorably overcome than to win a dangerous and lawless victory." - Oration VII.103
"the yoke of ministry…I know not whether to call it light or heavy" - Oration VII.109

Oration III
"my Citadel Solitude" - Oration III.1
"So easily is anything despised which is easily conquered." - Oration III.2
"Believe that listening is always less dangerous than talking." - Oration III.7
"worship a little in words, but more by your actions, and rather by keeping the Law than by admiring the Lawgiver." - Oration III.7
"May the Word in you never be smothered with cares of this life" - Oration III.8

Oration VII
"while their bodies are bent beneath the burden of their years, their souls renew their youth in God." - Oration VII.2
"Our hope is greater than our desert." - Oration VII.23
"If only we could be what we hope to be" - Oration VII.24
"He asks so little and gives so much" - Oration VII.24

Oration XII
"Amalek was warred down by the Cross" - Oration XII.2
"So, help me, each of you who can, and stretch out a hand to me who am pressed down and torn asunder by regret and enthusiasm." - Oration XII.4
"be helped by helping others" - Oration XII.4
"publish the Divine light" - Oration XII.4
"His image [be] cleansed in many souls." - Oration XII.4

Oration XVI
"Fluent speech is not more profitable than wise." - Oration XVI.1
"For 'a good understanding,' he saith, 'have all they that do thereafter,' not they who proclaim it." - Oration XVI.3, quoting Ps 111:10
("To fear the Lord is the first stage of wisdom.  All who do so prove themselves wise.")
[Hell is above and before all other torments] "the being outcast from God, and the shame of conscience which has no limit." - Oration XVI.9
"Let us be assured that to do no wrong is really superhuman, and belongs to God alone. - Oration XVI.15
"Let us not wait to be convicted by others, let us be our own examiners." Oration XVI.17

Oration XVIII
"Our home is better than our pilgrimage." - Oration XVIII.3
"that which is unattainable comes, through envy, to be thought not even credible." - Oration XVIII.9
[The small things] "are in my eyes most honorable, since they were the discoveries of her faith and the undertakings of her spiritual fervor." - Oration XVIII.9
"the gift of faith" Oration XVIII.13
"allowing no interval between assault and forgiveness" Oration XVIII.24
"Indeed, I am almost inclined to believe that the civil government is more orderly than ours, to which divine grace is attributed" Oration XVIII.35
"studiously ridicule our affairs" Oration XVIII.35
"he felt that it would be a terrible thing, after really gaining the victory, to be vanquished by the tongue." Oration XVIII.36
"superior to his robe of flesh" Oration XVIII.37

Oration XXI
"In praising Athanasius, I shall be praising virtue." Oration XXI.1
"For God is to intelligible things what the sun is to the things of sense." Oration XXI.1 [This and the following are real evidence of G. Naz.'s Platonic background.]
[A Paraphrase:  Be not ignorant of matters you are determined to despise. Oration XXI.6]
"using life as the guide of contemplation, contemplation as the seal of life" Oration XXI.6
"[Athanasius:]  him who made himself all things to all men that he might gain almost, if not quite, all." Oration XXI.10
"The great sufferings of God for us" Oration XXI.24

First Theological Oration (Oration XXVII)
"I am to speak against persons who pride themselves on their eloquence." Oration XXVII.I
Paul: "the disciple and teacher of the Fishermen" Oration XXVII.I
"Our Great Mystery is in danger of being made a thing of little moment." Oration XXVII.II
"It is necessary to be truly at leisure to know God." Oration XXVII.III
"We ought to think of God even more often than we draw our breath." Oration XXVII.V
"by this recollection we are to be moulded to purity." Oration XVII.V
"That which is good ceases to be good if it be not done in a good way." Oration XXVII.V
"I will still call you Brethren, though you do not behave like brothers." Oration XXVII.V
"Why have we tied our hands and armed our tongues?" Oration XXVII.VII
"Must your tongue rule at any cost, and can you not restrain the birthing of your speech?" Oration XXVII.IX

Second Theological Oration (Oration XXVIII)
"It is one thing to be persuaded of the existence of a thing, an quite another to know what it is." OrationX XVIII.V
"But a man who states what God is not without going on to say what He is, acts much in the same way as one would who when asked how many twice five make, should answer, 'Not two, nor three, nor four, nor five, nor twenty, nor any multiple of ten;' but would not answer 'ten,' nor settle the mind of his questioner upon the firm ground of the answer." Oration XXVIII.IX
"Why have I gone into all this, perhaps too minutely for most people to listen to?" Oration XXVIII.XI
"For it is utterly sophistical and foreign to the character…of any good man, who has any right ideas about himself, to seek his own supremacy by throwing a hindrance in the way of another." Oration XXVIII.XI
"People cling tightly to that which they acquire with labor; but that which they acquire easily they quickly throw away, because it can be easily recovered." Oration XXVIII.XII
"This is perhaps what is meant by 'He made darkness His secret place,' (Ps 18:11) namely our dullness, through which few can see even a little." Oration XXVIII.XII
"Our dullness, through which few can see even a little." Oration XXVIII.XII
"For every rational nature longs for God and for the First Cause, but is unable to grasp Him, for the reasons I have mentioned.  Faint therefore with the desire, and as it were restive and impatient of the disability, it tries a second course, either to look at visible things, and out of some of them to make a god."  Oration XXVIII.XIII
Idolatry: "a poor contrivance, for in what respect and to what extent can that which is seen be higher and more godlike than that which sees, that this should worship that?"  Oration XXVIII.XIII
"our desire for God" … "our sense of the impossibility of being without a leader and guide" Oration XXVIII.XVI
Isaac, offered by Abraham: "a strange victim, the type of the Great Sacrifice" Oration XXVIII.XVIII
"He [Abraham] saw not God as God, but gave Him food as a man." Oration XXVIII.XVIII
"no halting place in the ascent" Oration XXVIII.XXI
"this little world called Man" Oration XXVIII.XXII
Of songbirds: "What is the reason of their melody, and from whom came it?" Oration XXVIII.XXIII
Of spider webs and beehives: "What Euclid ever imitated these, while pursuing philosophical enquiries with lines that have no real existence, and wearying himself with demonstrations?" Oration XXVIII.XXV
"really endeavoring to measure the sea with a wineglass" Oration XXVIII.XXVII
"He who cannot lie is not forgetful of His own covenant" Oration XXVIII.XXVIII

Oration XXXI
"for it seems to be absolutely necessary for them to have some object on which to give expression to their impiety, or life would appear to them no longer worth living." Oration XXXI.II

Letter CI, To Cledonius the Priest Against Apollinarius
"We do not sever the Man from the Godhead." Letter CI
"That which He has not assumed He has not healed." Letter CI
"Let them not, then, begrudge us our complete salvation" Letter CI
"the stars which illumine the night are hidden by the Sun, so much that you could not even know of their existence by daylight." Letter CI

Letter CII, Against Apollinarius; the Second Letter to Cledonius
"It is through want of mind that they mutilate his mind." Letter CII

Letter CXXV, To Olympius
"injuring the Church by my untimely philosophy" Letter CXXV

Letter CXXX, To Procopium
"To tell the truth, I am convinced that every assembly of bishops is to be avoided, for I have never experienced a happy ending to any council; not even the abolition of abuses …, but only ambition or wrangling about what was taking place." Letter CXXX, quoted in Ratzinger, Principles of Catholic Theology, 368.

End Credits and Church

It's pretty common now. You go to the movies. You watch a film. You love it, hate it, tolerate it, or whatever. You've sat in one place for an hour and a half...

...or three, if you're being subjected to the "genius" of Peter Jackson - a friend once told me, "brevity is a virtue." I sure wish that the New Zealander could learn that lesson. I'd be more likely to see his films.

Anyway, so you've sat there for a while, lazily taking in the sublime sights and sounds of the silver screen, and there at the very end, the screen goes dark and the score shifts gears:

Cue the end credits.

It used to be at this point that we all got up and left the theater. The music and the scrolling text provided a more or less quiet background to the exit conversation we were bound to be having, white noise underlying the mutual exchange of our immediate responses to the film. "That was terrible." "How 'bout the part when..." "That was awesome." "What a great soundtrack."

My point being: no one stayed. We all left. There was nothing to stay for. The show was over.

That's the way things used to be, and, I guess, for certain kinds of films, they still are. No one sits through the credits of a drama expecting some surprise at the end.

But for a great number of the films we go see nowadays, we are left bolted to our seat. For some movies, we know for sure something is coming at the end (basically any Marvel movie ever made). But for many others, we just don't know, so we wait (or those of us that care wait). We sit there impatiently waiting through the credits because it has become expected that there be what is called (among other things) a "stinger."

There's a whole Wikipedia page dedicated to it: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post-credits_scene

We've been trained to sit there in the theater, watching a bunch of names we don't know and jobs we don't understand (key grip? best boy? wrangler?), in the hopes there be a little lagniappe waiting for us at the end.

...and sometimes there's not.

We have come to be able to sit through 3-8 minutes of information we have no need of, in hopes of something that might not be there. I mean no disrespect to all the hard work put in by all those nearly nameless folks that crawl by. (It just occurred to me that if I were in fact one of those people to have their names in the credits, I would care a great deal about it.) And there's inevitably that one actor or actress whose name we can't remember during the picture, so the credits can help us out there. But for the most part, we're just sitting there not knowing why, not sure if we even need to be there, and painfully postponing our (much needed) visit to the restroom on the way out of the multiplex.

We've already seen the movie. If there was something essential, we've already witnessed it. This extra bit is only going to hint at the sequel or give us one last joke. (And I'm NOT saying we shouldn't wait! Of course we should - I don't want to miss anything. It's expensive to go to the movies, and I plan on getting my money's worth.)

We wait 3-8 minutes, for a very small pay off, that oftentimes is not even guaranteed. We are actually a very patient species, when given the right motivation. We're willing to sit there waiting if only for just one more tiny dose of entertainment.

Now, brace yourselves for a (perhaps) contrived analogy:

Why do people leave Mass right after Communion?

It's because the Prayer after Communion, the final blessing, the dismissal, the recessional hymn or postlude, and (without a doubt) the announcements are about as meaningful to us as the end credits of a movie. Unless they directly affect us, or we're required to be there because we're in the choir or in the procession or whatever, we don't see the need to stay. We've already received Communion - what else is there?

There is a significant portion of the Mass that many people don't consider to be worth their time. That's a big problem, however commonplace it may be. (There are always exceptions, I know. I'm not writing this to point fingers, people. I don't even notice who leaves - I just notice that there are fewer people in the Church after communion than before. It's hard not to.)

So what's the solution? include some kind of prize at the end of Mass to entice people into staying? some kind of reward for sitting through the credits? some kind of teaser that hints at why we should come back for the sequel (next Sunday's Mass)?

No.

No. No. No. Absolutely not. People don't need to be kept in church with fly paper, at least I don't think so anyway.

Instead, maybe we need to do a better job of explaining why those things after communion are less like the end credits and more like the denouement of the Mass: still part of the movie, still something you don't want to miss, yet it has begun winding down, transitioning us back into the task of bringing heaven into our daily lives, not simply experiencing it for one hour (or less... or more) on Sunday. And so, as a way of forcing myself to blog more, and hopefully to combat even in a small way the steady yet premature flow of the congregation out the church doors, I'm going to write for the next few weeks about why each of those things (the Prayer after Communion, the final blessing, the dismissal, the recessional hymn or postlude, and yes even the announcements) is worth our time, both of itself and in relation to the rest of the Mass and our daily lives.

End of the World Advice

Not that I believe the world ends Friday, but... why not go to confession just in case?  Best case scenario, it's a wonderful outpouring of God's mercy and love that will fill you with life.  Worst case, the world ends Friday and you're in a state of grace.  Oh, and that wonderful outpouring part also goes for the worst case.  It's a no brainer.

Seriously, without regard to the end of the world, the Sacrament of Reconciliation is God's gift to you!  Why would you stay away?

You're nervous?  Big deal.  I usually am when I go to confession.  You know why?  Because sin is real.  It is really something wrong with you, and you don't want to have to admit it.  Take heart:  nervous people do extraordinary things all the time.

You can't handle telling your sins to another person?  I'm not impressed.  Go behind a screen to a priest you don't know.  I've heard hundreds of completely anonymous confessions, and I truly have no idea who was on the other side of the screen.  It works.

You don't believe that you need to?  You can confess directly to God?  Yeah, that's rich.  I guess all those times that Jesus said to the apostles "whose sins you forgive are forgive" and "whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven" were just suggestions.  And of course, we don't have to pay attention to the Letter of St James:  "Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed."

Wake up!  He intended us to actually take advantage this gift.  He doesn't want us to keep our faith locked up in our mind!  We're human beings, with bodies, with mouths and ears.  Confessing our sins requires us to make use of our entire person, body and soul, and to encounter Jesus himself with our senses, as the priest acts in his very person.  If you only "confess your sins directly to God," you will never hear those words you so desperately need to hear:  "God the Father of mercies through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins.  Through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace.  And I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

I don't care if the world ends tomorrow or Friday or after I'm dead and gone.  But I do care deeply for all of you out there who deny yourselves the grace of Reconciliation.  No priest is withholding it from you.  You are choking yourselves on fear and pride.  You're doing it wrong.

Get the ball rolling again.

After nearly a year hiatus and with a newfound urge to blog, I just realized there is a Blogger app in the App Store. I know I'm WAY behind in that discovery, but ooh, just wait. Time to catch up on some blogging.

Wake Up!

Just so we're clear, the Catholic Church does not and never has (for thousands of years, an order of magnitude longer than the age of the United States of America) limited its ministry to serving only Catholics. From the earliest days, Christians sought out anyone who was marginalized in society (for instance unwanted infants that non-Christian parents left exposed), regardless of the beliefs of those they served. That's what you call LOVE. It's unconditioned, even (or especially) by a person's religious or moral beliefs.

The Catholic Church has been serving the world for millennia. You can focus on the ugly imperfections of the Church all you want, but terrible as they are, they do not cancel the remarkable amount of good that Christians have done and want to continue to do for anyone and everyone in need.

Why does the American government, which has only been in the social program business since the 1930s (greenhorns), feel the need to come in and push us around? We don't take issue with the idea of providing health insurance to our employees! We weren't part of the problem you were (purportedly) trying to solve. But you've decided to stir up trouble for no reason, compelling us to choose between some pretty untenable alternatives. Would you really so severely penalize us because we want to serve others beyond our own?

Published Columnist!

Hey, I've got a new regular column in the Catholic Week!  (The Catholic Week is the biweekly publication of the Archdiocese of Mobile.)  It's called Can You Believe It? and it's a question/answer column for high schoolers and middle schoolers.

So if you know someone in that age group whose got a question about the Catholic faith, have them send it my way.  (I need material!)