I shared recently that I have difficulty remembering where I have left my keys, even though I have a set place to put them when I’m not using them. The problem is so bad that when I find them on the hook I installed for them, I feel that I have won a major victory.
First runner up in the saga of “where did I put it” is my wallet. I do not misplace it as often as I do the keys, but when I do, it is for a period of days, rather than just a few minutes. And that causes a lot of inconvenience—to me and to the parish community. In addition to my driver’s license and whatever cash I might have in the wallet, it also contains cards that are my access to parish and community funds. No wallet, no driving, no eating beyond what might already be in the house, no buying needed parish supplies.
I am not trying to elicit your sympathy here. I do know that there are people who would love to have a wallet, full or empty, and that there are even greater and sadder problems within ten feet of me at any time. Rather, I want to share my process of forgetting who I am when such a small thing happens in my life. It has the tendency to define my life. My self-definition during a recent episode of the lost wallet was “the man who can’t find his wallet”.
I lost all focus. Too many waking and sleeping hours were spent trying to find the wallet. I went through all my clothes, especially those I wore the last time I remembered having it. I called all the places I had been since I last used it. I tore the car apart and looked in places I hadn’t even been. And I obsessed. I was depressed. I forgot about all other things.
The issue grew larger. It wasn’t just about my lost wallet. I wondered how far along I was with Alzheimers. I wondered if I were loosing all competencies, that I couldn’t even find something I usually just took for granted. In brief, I let the missing wallet define my world and me. Then I worried about worrying too much about the lost wallet.
What a piece of work we are! How easily distracted and thrown by the smallest things, so much so at times that we can completely loose awareness of what really matters in life: “I can’t feed the hungry, I’m looking for my wallet. I cannot visit the sick; it’s my wallet, you see. Sure I’m praying. I’m praying to find my wallet”.
Then I found it. And I reflected: “ I just spent two days being defined by something that I would have found in time, whether I obsessed over it or not. And in the process, I stopped being faithful to what really matters in my life. I left my relationship with God and God’s people and withdrew into my own petty concern.” Those two days would have been much better spent if instead of self-defining by my lost wallet, I had been faithful to the definition given me by God: the beloved of God in whom God is well pleased. One called to enter into community with all God’s people, especially those entrusted to our care right here. I failed. I repent. I rise again.
And the wallet? It was in the slacks I had worn the last time I knew I had it and where I had already looked three times. I found it as I was putting the slacks on to go to the chapel, going to celebrate with others our true definition.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
EASTER JOY!
Happy Easter! Even though we don’t exchange gifts or send out cards, today is the
most significant day on the Christian calendar. It celebrates the day that death became irrelevant and eternal life became a fact.
Last week I introduced the theological question raised by Fr. John Dunne,
CSC: if I know that I will die someday, what can I do to satisfy my desire to live forever?
The glib answer is live forever. Now. No waiting period required! It’s not that
we deny death’s truth. Rather, we refuse to let death control our lives. We make
death irrelevant. People who have decided to live forever do not fear physical death.
They see physical death as a transition and are willing to take certain risks for truth orfor the good of others, even if such risks could result in their own physical death.In explaining his theory of the relativity of time, Einstein suggested putting your hand on a hot stove for 30 seconds. It seems like a lot longer. Spend 30 seconds with someone you really love. It went too fast. Positive experiences seem to end too quickly and negative experiences seem to last too long, while the actual length of time is exactly the same.
We can live our lives with our hands always on a hot stove or we can live them always in the presence of love. The second is what we mean by eternal life. When we take our hand off of the stove and have it treated by someone we love we have moved beyond death to eternal life. We come back from the dead. We rise again. Like Jesus,
we live our lives by loving everyone with whom we share the planet.
How does it happen? That’s for the Einsteins to figure out. We just have to experience it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There were four separate ceremonies in the Archdiocese this year, welcoming those
who had decided to join the Church or confirm their membership in it. Each one filled the very large church building in which it was held. I found myself wondering why, in the midst of horrific scandals, so many people were looking to the very source of those scandals for meaning and completion. I imagine there are as many reasons as there are people, but among our parish’s own candidates, a few common themes emerge: looking for something deeper in their own lives; feeling an inner call; having had some sort of resurrection experience and wanting to take some action to sanctify it. Clearly, people are able to separate the sin of the Church from its basic message, or Good News.
The reasoning might be something like: “I know that some people, including some in
positions of leadership, have not lived the message of the Church, but that does not
detract from the value of its message.” There is a need or want to belong to something that transcends daily life. They have found that something in the Church that insists on Resurrection. So can we all. Let’s join our new members as we enter the realm of eternal life.
most significant day on the Christian calendar. It celebrates the day that death became irrelevant and eternal life became a fact.
Last week I introduced the theological question raised by Fr. John Dunne,
CSC: if I know that I will die someday, what can I do to satisfy my desire to live forever?
The glib answer is live forever. Now. No waiting period required! It’s not that
we deny death’s truth. Rather, we refuse to let death control our lives. We make
death irrelevant. People who have decided to live forever do not fear physical death.
They see physical death as a transition and are willing to take certain risks for truth orfor the good of others, even if such risks could result in their own physical death.In explaining his theory of the relativity of time, Einstein suggested putting your hand on a hot stove for 30 seconds. It seems like a lot longer. Spend 30 seconds with someone you really love. It went too fast. Positive experiences seem to end too quickly and negative experiences seem to last too long, while the actual length of time is exactly the same.
We can live our lives with our hands always on a hot stove or we can live them always in the presence of love. The second is what we mean by eternal life. When we take our hand off of the stove and have it treated by someone we love we have moved beyond death to eternal life. We come back from the dead. We rise again. Like Jesus,
we live our lives by loving everyone with whom we share the planet.
How does it happen? That’s for the Einsteins to figure out. We just have to experience it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There were four separate ceremonies in the Archdiocese this year, welcoming those
who had decided to join the Church or confirm their membership in it. Each one filled the very large church building in which it was held. I found myself wondering why, in the midst of horrific scandals, so many people were looking to the very source of those scandals for meaning and completion. I imagine there are as many reasons as there are people, but among our parish’s own candidates, a few common themes emerge: looking for something deeper in their own lives; feeling an inner call; having had some sort of resurrection experience and wanting to take some action to sanctify it. Clearly, people are able to separate the sin of the Church from its basic message, or Good News.
The reasoning might be something like: “I know that some people, including some in
positions of leadership, have not lived the message of the Church, but that does not
detract from the value of its message.” There is a need or want to belong to something that transcends daily life. They have found that something in the Church that insists on Resurrection. So can we all. Let’s join our new members as we enter the realm of eternal life.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Holy Holy Holy Week
As I write, it is Portland’s most beautiful day since November. It is warm and the sun is shining. The streets are full of smiling people getting off work and hoping this beauty will last through the weekend. It has been a long, cold and wet winter. It has been a long Lent, and I look forward to it ending. It is all over next Sunday. I am smiling!
This week ends with the Triduum, the three holy days commemorating the Eucharist and the death and Resurrection of Jesus. I will reflect on the resurrection next post. But as we begin this holiest week of the Christian calendar, and as the sun is beautifully shining through my window, I am thinking about death or, specifically the stated belief that Jesus died for my sins, for our sins.
That never made sense to me. If anyone was going to die for my sin, shouldn’t it be me? Or if Jesus was going to die for my sin, shouldn’t he wait until I actually sin? I am not saying that the oft repeated statement about why Jesus had to die is false, just that I did not understand it and now deeply question it. That Jesus had to die I understand. He was human, and humans die. But it sure is obvious that in dying he did not end sin!
My favorite theology professor and brother in Holy Cross John S. Dunne, CSC posits this question: “If I know that I must die someday, what can I do to satisfy my desire to live forever?” Make that Jesus’ question, not just for himself, but also for everyone: “Everyone is going to die. In light of that fact, how does life have meaning?”
“The night before He died, a death He freely accepted, Jesus had supper for the last time with his most intimate followers. These disciples did not understand his matter-of-fact approach to the fact that he was about to die. Why would He freely accept death? One should fight it. Unless… death does not mean what we think it means.
Jesus had lived a live of giving. Everything he did, he did for the good of others: healing; teaching; confronting. Even the night before he died, he took bread and wine told them that, in the future, whenever they were to re-enact this, their Last Supper, they should not only remember him, but actually become His body and blood, which He always gave others for their consumption. They were to do the same in memory of Him. That’s what we celebrate on Thursday. We get nourished to become Jesus’ real presence so we will give ourselves for others’ consumption.
On Friday, we remember that he did indeed die, with all of the pain and sorrow, for himself and for others, that death is known to entail. But when he says to one of the thieves crucified with Him “today you will be with me in paradise,” He makes it very clear that death is not a fearful end, but a very positive transition to human completeness. So he answered Fr. Dunne’s question once and for all time: “If I know I am going to die, I will live in such a way that I make death irrelevant.” Sin is separation. Jesus lived to eradicate the need for any sin. His acceptance of death made life eternal, for us and for all.
Happy Holy Week!
This week ends with the Triduum, the three holy days commemorating the Eucharist and the death and Resurrection of Jesus. I will reflect on the resurrection next post. But as we begin this holiest week of the Christian calendar, and as the sun is beautifully shining through my window, I am thinking about death or, specifically the stated belief that Jesus died for my sins, for our sins.
That never made sense to me. If anyone was going to die for my sin, shouldn’t it be me? Or if Jesus was going to die for my sin, shouldn’t he wait until I actually sin? I am not saying that the oft repeated statement about why Jesus had to die is false, just that I did not understand it and now deeply question it. That Jesus had to die I understand. He was human, and humans die. But it sure is obvious that in dying he did not end sin!
My favorite theology professor and brother in Holy Cross John S. Dunne, CSC posits this question: “If I know that I must die someday, what can I do to satisfy my desire to live forever?” Make that Jesus’ question, not just for himself, but also for everyone: “Everyone is going to die. In light of that fact, how does life have meaning?”
“The night before He died, a death He freely accepted, Jesus had supper for the last time with his most intimate followers. These disciples did not understand his matter-of-fact approach to the fact that he was about to die. Why would He freely accept death? One should fight it. Unless… death does not mean what we think it means.
Jesus had lived a live of giving. Everything he did, he did for the good of others: healing; teaching; confronting. Even the night before he died, he took bread and wine told them that, in the future, whenever they were to re-enact this, their Last Supper, they should not only remember him, but actually become His body and blood, which He always gave others for their consumption. They were to do the same in memory of Him. That’s what we celebrate on Thursday. We get nourished to become Jesus’ real presence so we will give ourselves for others’ consumption.
On Friday, we remember that he did indeed die, with all of the pain and sorrow, for himself and for others, that death is known to entail. But when he says to one of the thieves crucified with Him “today you will be with me in paradise,” He makes it very clear that death is not a fearful end, but a very positive transition to human completeness. So he answered Fr. Dunne’s question once and for all time: “If I know I am going to die, I will live in such a way that I make death irrelevant.” Sin is separation. Jesus lived to eradicate the need for any sin. His acceptance of death made life eternal, for us and for all.
Happy Holy Week!
Saturday, April 2, 2011
I am an April Fool
I write this on the eve of the 22nd anniversary of ordination to the priesthood. What a day that was! I am pretty sure that I hold the record for the longest time between entering the seminary and being ordained. I entered the seminary in 1961, pronounced first vows in 1966 and was ordained in 1989—a total of 28 years from start to finish. I was a slow learner.
The word fool is defined in various ways, and I have probably fit all of the definitions in one way or another, but here is what I hold to today: a fool is someone who enjoys something very much, and is the one in a group (or congregation) who provides a degree of levity to lessen the sting of heavy solemnity, while dressed in funny clothes (vestments).
In the Christian tradition, a fool is one who rejects the worlds’ common social rules of hypocrisy, brutality and thirst for power and gain. Paul says that the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight (1Cor 3:19), and that we are to be fools for Christ (1Cor 5:10). Not a bad thing for a priest to be, I think. I am not saying that is who I am completely, but it is a part of who I believe I need to be while growing to be a good leader in a Christian community.
My motivation for pursuing priesthood changed, of course, in the period between entering and being ordained. Priests had all the power in the world in which I grew up, so my initial motivation might have had at least something to do with a thirst for power or gain. But in the final period, the period just before ordination, my motives became more particular and, I hope, mature.
I wanted to be a fool for others in contrast to those parts of the institutional church that seem overly serious and riddled with hypocrisy. That is why I am very grateful that I was ordained on April 1—April fool’s day. I am an April fool. Not a perfect fool, but working on it!
On the way to ordination and since, I have met many suffering people who have had very painful religious experiences with the church, including with priests. I did, too. The Church is human, and experiences the same foibles of the human condition, as does any group of people, as do I. But if my foibles can differ from those that have caused hurt and pain to the marginalized and alienated, then I can be their priest. And enjoy it along the way!
The word fool is defined in various ways, and I have probably fit all of the definitions in one way or another, but here is what I hold to today: a fool is someone who enjoys something very much, and is the one in a group (or congregation) who provides a degree of levity to lessen the sting of heavy solemnity, while dressed in funny clothes (vestments).
In the Christian tradition, a fool is one who rejects the worlds’ common social rules of hypocrisy, brutality and thirst for power and gain. Paul says that the wisdom of this world is foolishness in God’s sight (1Cor 3:19), and that we are to be fools for Christ (1Cor 5:10). Not a bad thing for a priest to be, I think. I am not saying that is who I am completely, but it is a part of who I believe I need to be while growing to be a good leader in a Christian community.
My motivation for pursuing priesthood changed, of course, in the period between entering and being ordained. Priests had all the power in the world in which I grew up, so my initial motivation might have had at least something to do with a thirst for power or gain. But in the final period, the period just before ordination, my motives became more particular and, I hope, mature.
I wanted to be a fool for others in contrast to those parts of the institutional church that seem overly serious and riddled with hypocrisy. That is why I am very grateful that I was ordained on April 1—April fool’s day. I am an April fool. Not a perfect fool, but working on it!
On the way to ordination and since, I have met many suffering people who have had very painful religious experiences with the church, including with priests. I did, too. The Church is human, and experiences the same foibles of the human condition, as does any group of people, as do I. But if my foibles can differ from those that have caused hurt and pain to the marginalized and alienated, then I can be their priest. And enjoy it along the way!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Eternal Morbidity?
I am getting old. I have been getting older every second since I was born, but now, I am getting old. I have become increasingly aware of this since returning to Portland and coming to the parish, yet the creeping awareness has nothing to do with my being here. The work is not any harder and the hours are not any longer than before. My age sensitivity is not caused by some external factor or circumstance. It is just the natural order of things: we get old. Old people were always “other people” to me. Now, they are beginning to be me!
While my father was alive, I knew that I was almost exactly 25 years younger than he, and that was my safety net. But he died a year and one-half ago, and now I am only 23_ years younger than he. That weighs on me. And there are other factors.
I work with a staff on which I am the senior member. That has never been true before. There are not many children around. There always had been. My doctor says the aches and pains so new to my too, too solid flesh are due to degeneration. He laughed. I did not. I received a list of my grade school classmates recently because of our upcoming reunion. I was shocked to discover that almost a quarter of them have died.
As all the above truths collide, I am forced into the realization that I am growing old. I don’t accept it, I just realize it. I realize that young people see me the same way I saw people my age when I was their ages. I realize I cannot do some of the physical things I used to do, at least not without painful consequences. I look in the mirror and see my father. I forget words. I forget things. I forget where I put my keys, but I’ve been doing that all my life!
I’m stumbling through the first four stages of grief: denial (check), anger (a bit), bargaining (I think I’ll be skipping this one—I know better), and depression. Acceptance is the only stage remaining before I complete that cycle.
We are in Lent, and we focus on Gospel passages in which Jesus tells his disciples about his impending death. We contemplate the end of our lives, at least lif e as we have known it. Jesus was pretty matter of fact about the end of His life, or at least the evangelists portray him that way, yet His time in the garden that final night does suggest his own conflict: “Let this cup pass…”
It might be 23_ years away, but the end of life as I know and love it is now more real to me than ever before. When I compare my insides with my peers’ outsides, they seem to be handling the whole thing a lot better than I am. So I know it’s time to grow up, to say, “not my will but Yours be done.”
Jesus gave the ultimate sacrifice: His body and His blood given to all to rid the world of sin, of separation. Is that what I need to do in order to accept the ultimate truth of life? Is it in giving my body and my blood as pastor that I will escape morbidity and enter into eternal life? If so, come on Easter!
While my father was alive, I knew that I was almost exactly 25 years younger than he, and that was my safety net. But he died a year and one-half ago, and now I am only 23_ years younger than he. That weighs on me. And there are other factors.
I work with a staff on which I am the senior member. That has never been true before. There are not many children around. There always had been. My doctor says the aches and pains so new to my too, too solid flesh are due to degeneration. He laughed. I did not. I received a list of my grade school classmates recently because of our upcoming reunion. I was shocked to discover that almost a quarter of them have died.
As all the above truths collide, I am forced into the realization that I am growing old. I don’t accept it, I just realize it. I realize that young people see me the same way I saw people my age when I was their ages. I realize I cannot do some of the physical things I used to do, at least not without painful consequences. I look in the mirror and see my father. I forget words. I forget things. I forget where I put my keys, but I’ve been doing that all my life!
I’m stumbling through the first four stages of grief: denial (check), anger (a bit), bargaining (I think I’ll be skipping this one—I know better), and depression. Acceptance is the only stage remaining before I complete that cycle.
We are in Lent, and we focus on Gospel passages in which Jesus tells his disciples about his impending death. We contemplate the end of our lives, at least lif e as we have known it. Jesus was pretty matter of fact about the end of His life, or at least the evangelists portray him that way, yet His time in the garden that final night does suggest his own conflict: “Let this cup pass…”
It might be 23_ years away, but the end of life as I know and love it is now more real to me than ever before. When I compare my insides with my peers’ outsides, they seem to be handling the whole thing a lot better than I am. So I know it’s time to grow up, to say, “not my will but Yours be done.”
Jesus gave the ultimate sacrifice: His body and His blood given to all to rid the world of sin, of separation. Is that what I need to do in order to accept the ultimate truth of life? Is it in giving my body and my blood as pastor that I will escape morbidity and enter into eternal life? If so, come on Easter!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
A letter came from the State Prison. “Dear Pastor, I read somewhere in connection with St. Andre Downtown Chapel, “to provide hope and healing to the most marginalized members of society”. Through my own fault, for the most shameful of all sins, I was marginalized out of society itself. Here in prison I am the lowest scum, the object of the most violent hatred. I deserve no better.
But I will be returning to society in 24 months…for twelve years of post-prison supervision… I am very afraid. It would have been better for me to have had a millstone …anyway, one of my fears is that I won’t be able to find a Catholic parish that would even agree to interview me for membership. If there might be a door open for me to meet with a priest at St. Andre when I get back to Portland I would count it the greatest kindness to have your reply. If you must decline your service to me, I will understand. Perhaps you could refer me to another Pastor or you might have some other suggestions. If I survive the next two years in prison, the first thing I want to do when I’m back in Portland is fall on my face before the Blessed Sacrament in tears of adoration.
He fears he won’t be able to find a Catholic parish that would even agree to interview him for potential membership. I fear that he speaks from experience, an experience that would add to the rejection he is finding in prison. He fears my reply, so prepares himself for yet another rejection: “If you must decline I will understand.” He shouldn’t.
He must be used to such responses as, “Perhaps you would find yourself more comfortable at another parish.” In other words, “you are too much on the margins for us. We’re Catholic, but really…”
I think of how he will feel when he receives my reply. He will open the envelope with fear and trepidation. He will slowly pull the letter out of the envelope, not sure that he is strong enough. Then he will read: “of course you are welcome here, as is anyone! We do not interview for membership, but we will register you as a member. You do not need to wait two years for that. I am enclosing a registration form.”
Those who visit us during the week are used to rejection. We might mumble: Lord, I am not worthy, but they believe it. Every day some “guests tell us that they are grateful for what we provide, but even more grateful that we offer them some few hours of welcome, where they feel worthy because they are smiled at and called by name. At first I thought it was only a matter of feeling connected. But now I think it might also be a matter of agreeing with the prisoner: “I deserve no better, than what I receive on the streets, from society as a whole and even from some church groups.” That’s not our way of welcoming!
Yes, you do deserve better. We all do. We deserve to be loved simply by virtue of the fact that we exist. Lent is a great time for loving, for opening doors to everyone who comes our way. Keep those doors open!
But I will be returning to society in 24 months…for twelve years of post-prison supervision… I am very afraid. It would have been better for me to have had a millstone …anyway, one of my fears is that I won’t be able to find a Catholic parish that would even agree to interview me for membership. If there might be a door open for me to meet with a priest at St. Andre when I get back to Portland I would count it the greatest kindness to have your reply. If you must decline your service to me, I will understand. Perhaps you could refer me to another Pastor or you might have some other suggestions. If I survive the next two years in prison, the first thing I want to do when I’m back in Portland is fall on my face before the Blessed Sacrament in tears of adoration.
He fears he won’t be able to find a Catholic parish that would even agree to interview him for potential membership. I fear that he speaks from experience, an experience that would add to the rejection he is finding in prison. He fears my reply, so prepares himself for yet another rejection: “If you must decline I will understand.” He shouldn’t.
He must be used to such responses as, “Perhaps you would find yourself more comfortable at another parish.” In other words, “you are too much on the margins for us. We’re Catholic, but really…”
I think of how he will feel when he receives my reply. He will open the envelope with fear and trepidation. He will slowly pull the letter out of the envelope, not sure that he is strong enough. Then he will read: “of course you are welcome here, as is anyone! We do not interview for membership, but we will register you as a member. You do not need to wait two years for that. I am enclosing a registration form.”
Those who visit us during the week are used to rejection. We might mumble: Lord, I am not worthy, but they believe it. Every day some “guests tell us that they are grateful for what we provide, but even more grateful that we offer them some few hours of welcome, where they feel worthy because they are smiled at and called by name. At first I thought it was only a matter of feeling connected. But now I think it might also be a matter of agreeing with the prisoner: “I deserve no better, than what I receive on the streets, from society as a whole and even from some church groups.” That’s not our way of welcoming!
Yes, you do deserve better. We all do. We deserve to be loved simply by virtue of the fact that we exist. Lent is a great time for loving, for opening doors to everyone who comes our way. Keep those doors open!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Let's Give it Up for Charlie!
Maybe we should give up popularity for Lent. I would guess that you have heard of Charlie Sheen. From what we read, he seems to be a man on the way to ruin, because of his many addictions. We might say that he seems to be the logical conclusion of the Hollywood dream: financial success; destructive life style, infidelity; self-absorbed; convinced of terminal uniqueness. This is what we read. And read. And read. “…two wars are in an endless state of sorrow. Egypt about burned to the ground, and all you people care about is (me)…? "Shame shame shame.” Yet he seems to love every sound bite of it.
I am in no position to judge Charlie Sheen, or to make a long distance diagnosis. But I can reflect on what reports of his escapades might say about the human condition separate from the grace of God. Because I have been there. Perhaps you have been, too. Not with Charlie’s money or fame or connections, although I would not have minded those additions to my own depravity!
For a portion of our lives, there is no one in the Universe more important to us than ourselves. We are the center not only of our own world but, we imagine, of everyone else’s, too. If only people really knew us or understood us. They would never be angry with us. No matter what we were to do, they would love us! Sheen again: “Don’t be special; be one of us. Newsflash: I am special, and I will never be one of you.” Adolescence, anyone (sorry adolescents, but you will grow beyond it!)?
If we are honest with ourselves, if we have that capacity, we know at some level that the lies we tell ourselves about our importance are just that. Perhaps our truths are so unbearable that we cannot face them, even obliquely. Yet we instinctively know that we are worthwhile human beings at the deepest levels of our being and that we are loved or, at least loveable. That sounds to me like what Charlie is trying to tell the world and himself.
So we have Lent: A period of time during which we are invited to focus on touching those truths we fear, knowing that the one whose love is unconditional but whose wrath we fear will welcome us in our fear, trembling and honesty without reservation, without rancor or punishment. But it is not the turning back that is the thrust of Lent. It is not repentance that is the goal. The goal of Lent is Easter. When we turn away from the pretense, from the self-deception and the rational lies we tell, we can enter into the life that never ends. Eternal life with Love, more than any fame or fortune, is what our hearts truly desire. Why settle for less?
Look at the faces on our “Faces of Friday” Lenten aid (http://www.downtownchapel.org/eNewsletter/FacesFriday/eNewsletterFaces01.html). Can you tell who is most needy, who is most blessed? Who is most despondent and who is most comfortable? I could not, at least looking at the faces of people I do not yet know. All the faces are the face of God. All are the face of love. Be sure to put your own there. That is where we all belong.
I am in no position to judge Charlie Sheen, or to make a long distance diagnosis. But I can reflect on what reports of his escapades might say about the human condition separate from the grace of God. Because I have been there. Perhaps you have been, too. Not with Charlie’s money or fame or connections, although I would not have minded those additions to my own depravity!
For a portion of our lives, there is no one in the Universe more important to us than ourselves. We are the center not only of our own world but, we imagine, of everyone else’s, too. If only people really knew us or understood us. They would never be angry with us. No matter what we were to do, they would love us! Sheen again: “Don’t be special; be one of us. Newsflash: I am special, and I will never be one of you.” Adolescence, anyone (sorry adolescents, but you will grow beyond it!)?
If we are honest with ourselves, if we have that capacity, we know at some level that the lies we tell ourselves about our importance are just that. Perhaps our truths are so unbearable that we cannot face them, even obliquely. Yet we instinctively know that we are worthwhile human beings at the deepest levels of our being and that we are loved or, at least loveable. That sounds to me like what Charlie is trying to tell the world and himself.
So we have Lent: A period of time during which we are invited to focus on touching those truths we fear, knowing that the one whose love is unconditional but whose wrath we fear will welcome us in our fear, trembling and honesty without reservation, without rancor or punishment. But it is not the turning back that is the thrust of Lent. It is not repentance that is the goal. The goal of Lent is Easter. When we turn away from the pretense, from the self-deception and the rational lies we tell, we can enter into the life that never ends. Eternal life with Love, more than any fame or fortune, is what our hearts truly desire. Why settle for less?
Look at the faces on our “Faces of Friday” Lenten aid (http://www.downtownchapel.org/eNewsletter/FacesFriday/eNewsletterFaces01.html). Can you tell who is most needy, who is most blessed? Who is most despondent and who is most comfortable? I could not, at least looking at the faces of people I do not yet know. All the faces are the face of God. All are the face of love. Be sure to put your own there. That is where we all belong.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Attitude of the Spirit
St. André Bessette Church offers enormous challenges of the spirit. To all appearances, our ministries are very well planned and organized, but spending time with our guests really raises extraordinary thoughts and feelings. I again experienced this last week, as we began a new program.
I advertised the program as “Spirituality Sessions,” and described it as an opportunity to gather each Thursday morning, hear a presentation on some aspect of spirituality and reflect on it as a group. We began the first Thursday of March. I set up the chairs, announced when we were ready to go and made a second announcement when no one showed. No one showed after the second announcement either, until one young man came in, looked around and asked where the others were. My question exactly!
We sat and talked, he and I, with him saying he didn’t think he would stay without others present. He said it is by listening to others that he grows. We were together for about one half hour. I listened; he talked. Of course, the subject quickly became his life. When he left another guest came in. I felt awkward in the situation. Both guests articulated their own profound spiritual quest quite well. But I was thinking about their homeless condition.
I did not ask how they became homeless—I preferred to let them direct our conversation. But I did wonder about the value of offering a spiritual conversation when they have no place to eat or sleep or call home. I had been in their circumstances—perhaps even at their age—but for a very short while and many years ago. I was most definitely not thinking spiritual thoughts at that time. I was thinking about how to get out of it all, whether dead or alive.
All these years later, I wanted to fix things for them. What do I have to give them? Should I say: “God’s ways are mysterious?” “Your suffering now will earn you a great reward?” How condescending! In my mind, they needed food and shelter before they needed me.
But, it seemed, not in their minds. Both of them felt the reality of their own circumstances, and accepted what is. Thursday, they wanted meaningful, engaging conversation. They wanted to talk spiritually when the opportunity to do so arose. They seemed to instinctively know that their spiritual attitude is the greatest possession they have, and that it will sustain them in any circumstances.
I had prepared a topic for discussion with the group that didn’t show. It was ‘spiritual attitude.’ Too bad we never got to it!
I advertised the program as “Spirituality Sessions,” and described it as an opportunity to gather each Thursday morning, hear a presentation on some aspect of spirituality and reflect on it as a group. We began the first Thursday of March. I set up the chairs, announced when we were ready to go and made a second announcement when no one showed. No one showed after the second announcement either, until one young man came in, looked around and asked where the others were. My question exactly!
We sat and talked, he and I, with him saying he didn’t think he would stay without others present. He said it is by listening to others that he grows. We were together for about one half hour. I listened; he talked. Of course, the subject quickly became his life. When he left another guest came in. I felt awkward in the situation. Both guests articulated their own profound spiritual quest quite well. But I was thinking about their homeless condition.
I did not ask how they became homeless—I preferred to let them direct our conversation. But I did wonder about the value of offering a spiritual conversation when they have no place to eat or sleep or call home. I had been in their circumstances—perhaps even at their age—but for a very short while and many years ago. I was most definitely not thinking spiritual thoughts at that time. I was thinking about how to get out of it all, whether dead or alive.
All these years later, I wanted to fix things for them. What do I have to give them? Should I say: “God’s ways are mysterious?” “Your suffering now will earn you a great reward?” How condescending! In my mind, they needed food and shelter before they needed me.
But, it seemed, not in their minds. Both of them felt the reality of their own circumstances, and accepted what is. Thursday, they wanted meaningful, engaging conversation. They wanted to talk spiritually when the opportunity to do so arose. They seemed to instinctively know that their spiritual attitude is the greatest possession they have, and that it will sustain them in any circumstances.
I had prepared a topic for discussion with the group that didn’t show. It was ‘spiritual attitude.’ Too bad we never got to it!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Learning from the Past
The vehicle I am assigned is a small truck that is shared with the parish for picking up goods and supplies. I mention that because when I am using it, the radio is rarely on the same station it was on during my previous use. Normally I will change it as quickly as possible, especially if it is on a country station (that’s not necessarily about country music; it is about me).
Last week it was on a station that played oldies from the early 70’s. I did not change it. Rather, I took a trip that was additional to the one I was driving. A trip of nostalgia. In the early 70’s I was just out of college and was living and teaching with the Holy Cross community at Notre Dame High School in Niles Illinois. I now realize that, since I had attended a high school seminary myself, these years were my own prolonged adolescence. I definitely identified more with the students than with the adults with whom I taught. It was, for the most part, fun, at leas at the beginning.
One of the trademarks of my teaching at that time was my use of contemporary music, many of the same songs I was hearing on the radio last week: Bridge over troubled waters; Let it Be; Hey Jude; War; Joy to the World; Maggie May; Don McLean; Gilbert O’Sullivan; Bill Withers; Dylan; Carole King; James Taylor; John Lennon; Neil Young; Joni Mitchell; Janis Ian; Jefferson Starship; America; The Eagles; Three Dog Night; and on and on and on and on. But wait! There’s More!
I used the Rock Opera Tommy by the Who as the entire text for a Junior Religion class I taught called: “Journey to the Center of the Soul.” That was the best. At least I thought so then. Was I a good teacher? That depends of who gets asked. I was creative. I’m not sure how healthy I was, which would be better answered by the faculty than by the students. At the time, I loved it.
If I were to go back in time, would I do it differently? Absolutely. Not the material or the techniques, but the ways of relating. I was very co-dependent. That got worse each year, so I was summoned back to the seminary to complete my theological studies on the path to ordination. Within 3 months, I was invited to leave the community I had been a part of for half my lie. That’s another story, sort of, but it should be obvious by my current state that it was not the end.
At that time, I saw myself as the best there was. Now, I know I wasn’t. I sometimes do an internal cringe when I get flashes of memory from that time, like when I am listening to the music of the era. I now know who I was, and sure understand the adage about life being lived forward but only understood backwards. I’m very grateful I know and understand that, because I know that in time I will look back on today and realize that some of what I consider to be me at my objective best now will embarrass me then. That’s life.
The more I know that, the more I am able to not take myself too seriously or to be overly adamant about everything. “Now, I see as through a glass—darkly; but then, face to face. Now I know in part; but then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. (1Cor, 13:12)
So how do I make then to be now?
Last week it was on a station that played oldies from the early 70’s. I did not change it. Rather, I took a trip that was additional to the one I was driving. A trip of nostalgia. In the early 70’s I was just out of college and was living and teaching with the Holy Cross community at Notre Dame High School in Niles Illinois. I now realize that, since I had attended a high school seminary myself, these years were my own prolonged adolescence. I definitely identified more with the students than with the adults with whom I taught. It was, for the most part, fun, at leas at the beginning.
One of the trademarks of my teaching at that time was my use of contemporary music, many of the same songs I was hearing on the radio last week: Bridge over troubled waters; Let it Be; Hey Jude; War; Joy to the World; Maggie May; Don McLean; Gilbert O’Sullivan; Bill Withers; Dylan; Carole King; James Taylor; John Lennon; Neil Young; Joni Mitchell; Janis Ian; Jefferson Starship; America; The Eagles; Three Dog Night; and on and on and on and on. But wait! There’s More!
I used the Rock Opera Tommy by the Who as the entire text for a Junior Religion class I taught called: “Journey to the Center of the Soul.” That was the best. At least I thought so then. Was I a good teacher? That depends of who gets asked. I was creative. I’m not sure how healthy I was, which would be better answered by the faculty than by the students. At the time, I loved it.
If I were to go back in time, would I do it differently? Absolutely. Not the material or the techniques, but the ways of relating. I was very co-dependent. That got worse each year, so I was summoned back to the seminary to complete my theological studies on the path to ordination. Within 3 months, I was invited to leave the community I had been a part of for half my lie. That’s another story, sort of, but it should be obvious by my current state that it was not the end.
At that time, I saw myself as the best there was. Now, I know I wasn’t. I sometimes do an internal cringe when I get flashes of memory from that time, like when I am listening to the music of the era. I now know who I was, and sure understand the adage about life being lived forward but only understood backwards. I’m very grateful I know and understand that, because I know that in time I will look back on today and realize that some of what I consider to be me at my objective best now will embarrass me then. That’s life.
The more I know that, the more I am able to not take myself too seriously or to be overly adamant about everything. “Now, I see as through a glass—darkly; but then, face to face. Now I know in part; but then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. (1Cor, 13:12)
So how do I make then to be now?
Friday, February 18, 2011

I wonder if people who hold a position polar opposite of my own on any matter of faith, behavior, or life in general, are as convinced of the righteousness of their position as I can be of my own. In the face of a contrary position, I am compelled to deeply reflect on what I believe and do, and modify it if appropriate. Often, our disagreements with others have to do with our respective cultural heritages, experiences, and other factors too subtle to name. But sometimes there is another factor: evil.
I’ve experienced evil. You most likely have, too. Perhaps like me, you’ve even participated in evil, and then after reflection, immediately or years later, felt shame and embarrassment, realizing that you were, after all, wrong. I can remember too many times when reflection has caused me shame! I can get over it, though. Over time, I can understand myself not from the perspective of then, but of now. Through the grace of God, now is quite different from then, just as will be the case in the future, when now becomes then.
I’ve been thinking like this because of a section in a reading from Genesis a week or so ago. It’s from the story of Noah, God, and the flood: “When the Lord saw how great was man’s wickedness on earth, and how no desire that his heart conceived was ever anything but evil, he regretted that he had made man on the earth…” Thus, the flood: “‘they are evil. Wipe them out.’” After the flood, Genesis shows God reflecting that perhaps sending the flood wasn’t such a good idea after all. God says: “Never again will I doom the earth because of man, since the desires of man’s heart are evil from the start…”
We are evil from the start? Thomas Aquinas, upon whose thinking much of Catholic moral theology is based, disagrees. He contends that ‘evil,’ unlike ‘good,’ does not exist as an objective reality, but only in relationship to good. Evil is the absence of objective good. If our conscious mind has not been severely damaged, we make our choices with a will that is free. We choose for or against what is good but, Thomas would say, we instinctively know what is good and, eventually, we know when we have made wrong choices.
M. Scott Peck defines evil as “the inability to be reflective.” People participating in evil do not reflect on and re-evaluate their positions, and evil works at destroying what is good. Good and evil cannot co-exist. When I have done things that will cause me embarrassment only after reflection, I would not have said that at the time I did them I knew I was choosing to go against some good, but I can later see where that might be true. I come to realize that I was not acting at my full potential.
When I made the choice against the good, I was not at the same point of spiritual growth as I am when I realize I was wrong. “If only I could go back and have a do-over!” That dynamic is: wrong choice, followed by reflection, leading to shame and embarrassment and followed by repentance. I am pretty sure this dynamic will be active in me for the rest of my time on earth. Rather than depressing me, though, that thought gives me hope. It tells me that I can always choose what is good and continue to grow along spiritual lines. I do not have to live a non-reflective, self-righteous, stagnate and dead life. Through reflection, I can live forever!

I wonder if people who hold a position polar opposite of my own on any matter of faith, behavior, or life in general, are as convinced of the righteousness of their position as I can be of my own. In the face of a contrary position, I am compelled to deeply reflect on what I believe and do, and modify it if appropriate. Often, our disagreements with others have to do with our respective cultural heritages, experiences, and other factors too subtle to name. But sometimes there is another factor: evil.
I’ve experienced evil. You most likely have, too. Perhaps like me, you’ve even participated in evil, and then after reflection, immediately or years later, felt shame and embarrassment, realizing that you were, after all, wrong. I can remember too many times when reflection has caused me shame! I can get over it, though. Over time, I can understand myself not from the perspective of then, but of now. Through the grace of God, now is quite different from then, just as will be the case in the future, when now becomes then.
I’ve been thinking like this because of a section in a reading from Genesis a week or so ago. It’s from the story of Noah, God, and the flood: “When the Lord saw how great was man’s wickedness on earth, and how no desire that his heart conceived was ever anything but evil, he regretted that he had made man on the earth…” Thus, the flood: “‘they are evil. Wipe them out.’” After the flood, Genesis shows God reflecting that perhaps sending the flood wasn’t such a good idea after all. God says: “Never again will I doom the earth because of man, since the desires of man’s heart are evil from the start…”
We are evil from the start? Thomas Aquinas, upon whose thinking much of Catholic moral theology is based, disagrees. He contends that ‘evil,’ unlike ‘good,’ does not exist as an objective reality, but only in relationship to good. Evil is the absence of objective good. If our conscious mind has not been severely damaged, we make our choices with a will that is free. We choose for or against what is good but, Thomas would say, we instinctively know what is good and, eventually, we know when we have made wrong choices.
M. Scott Peck defines evil as “the inability to be reflective.” People participating in evil do not reflect on and re-evaluate their positions, and evil works at destroying what is good. Good and evil cannot co-exist. When I have done things that will cause me embarrassment only after reflection, I would not have said that at the time I did them I knew I was choosing to go against some good, but I can later see where that might be true. I come to realize that I was not acting at my full potential.
When I made the choice against the good, I was not at the same point of spiritual growth as I am when I realize I was wrong. “If only I could go back and have a do-over!” That dynamic is: wrong choice, followed by reflection, leading to shame and embarrassment and followed by repentance. I am pretty sure this dynamic will be active in me for the rest of my time on earth. Rather than depressing me, though, that thought gives me hope. It tells me that I can always choose what is good and continue to grow along spiritual lines. I do not have to live a non-reflective, self-righteous, stagnate and dead life. Through reflection, I can live forever!

Friday, February 11, 2011
A fellow Holy Cross priest, Dan Groody, CSC, has written an article on migration for the February 7th edition of America magazine. I am really impressed with how well it applies to our ministry here. Dan is a theologian who teaches at Notre Dame. His article is called: “A Theology of Migration: a new method for understanding God on the move.”
He talks about an encounter with a homeless person early in his theological studies that radically changed his approach to theology. “…we lived in two different worlds. My reality was a comfortable home, a warm bed and a life of the mind; his was distress and discomfort, a brick mattress and life on the streets.” If you have been following these columns, you can well understand why that first paragraph more than piqued my interest!
Dan started wondering how the world, and God, might be understood from the vantage point of the homeless. He began to study theology with “the crucified people of today.” He made “an attempt to understand the gift and challenge of Christian faith, beginning with those who live with acute human suffering, like undocumented migrants or victims of human trafficking.” Or, I would add, the homeless and addicted and mentally ill people on the streets of Portland.
Some of Dan’s comments are worthy of long reflections: “God (is) not a concept to be understood but a person to be encountered in the depth of one’s being.” And: “…theology is not simply about ‘faith seeking understanding’ but also about generating knowledge born of love.” As he says about migrants, so it is true here that our guests “do not care what (we) know, but want to know that (we) care.”
That God is encountered in the depth of human experience is not a mere piety. Anyone who spends time here, guests and volunteers both, know this, whether through a night with Brother André Café, the Personal Poverty Retreat or only a single morning in the Hospitality Center. How often people volunteering have said they came to help, and help was given to them. They were challenged by their own encounters to grow in ways that were completely unexpected. The experience touched the depths of their being through their openness to the depth of our guests’ beings. Our word for what has been encountered but cannot be fully described is ‘God’. Our Incarnate God has the face of our volunteers and of our guests, of those who live on the streets and those from the West Hills. Once encountered, God cannot be ignored. Perhaps that is why people keep coming back.
He talks about an encounter with a homeless person early in his theological studies that radically changed his approach to theology. “…we lived in two different worlds. My reality was a comfortable home, a warm bed and a life of the mind; his was distress and discomfort, a brick mattress and life on the streets.” If you have been following these columns, you can well understand why that first paragraph more than piqued my interest!
Dan started wondering how the world, and God, might be understood from the vantage point of the homeless. He began to study theology with “the crucified people of today.” He made “an attempt to understand the gift and challenge of Christian faith, beginning with those who live with acute human suffering, like undocumented migrants or victims of human trafficking.” Or, I would add, the homeless and addicted and mentally ill people on the streets of Portland.
Some of Dan’s comments are worthy of long reflections: “God (is) not a concept to be understood but a person to be encountered in the depth of one’s being.” And: “…theology is not simply about ‘faith seeking understanding’ but also about generating knowledge born of love.” As he says about migrants, so it is true here that our guests “do not care what (we) know, but want to know that (we) care.”
That God is encountered in the depth of human experience is not a mere piety. Anyone who spends time here, guests and volunteers both, know this, whether through a night with Brother André Café, the Personal Poverty Retreat or only a single morning in the Hospitality Center. How often people volunteering have said they came to help, and help was given to them. They were challenged by their own encounters to grow in ways that were completely unexpected. The experience touched the depths of their being through their openness to the depth of our guests’ beings. Our word for what has been encountered but cannot be fully described is ‘God’. Our Incarnate God has the face of our volunteers and of our guests, of those who live on the streets and those from the West Hills. Once encountered, God cannot be ignored. Perhaps that is why people keep coming back.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
At a recent meeting, one of our parishioners made a comment that started me thinking (which in itself made the evening worthwhile!). The comment was about the range of people who identify themselves as members of the parish and, at least as I heard it, how those who come to us for the reasons people come to any parish might not be getting full consideration.
Interestingly enough, while I have been thinking about how we might deal with that, I have also found myself this week being more engaged with those who might fit the definition of usual parishioner, coming with questions of faith, seeking understanding and clarification about what is and is not sin, wanting healing for past hurts and wondering how we live out our faith here.
I did a little research to get some deeper understanding of what people want from their Church, and found responses such as the following:
• “theological compatibility, openness, community, challenging teachings, congregational liveliness, creativity, and fresh, contemporary worship music.”
• “A community that is open to being transformed by God's love and open to being honest with each other throughout that process.”
• “a place that values what they bring to the table in such a way that it's natural to get involved because their gifts/talents are both needed AND desired as part of the body of Christ.”
• “As a convert to the Catholic Church, the main thing I was looking for was an encounter with Jesus Himself, which I found in the scriptures and in the sacraments, most especially the
Eucharist. I wanted the truth about what the early Christians did, believed, how they behaved. I feel like it was incredibly counter cultural then, and authentic Catholicism still remains incredibly counter-cultural.”
• “Basically, the Catholic Church offered me the faith of history, the faith of the early Christians, I feel the faith of the Scriptures, all in the power of the Holy Spirit.”
• “So to sum it up: what draws me to the Church? Jesus, the relentless insistence of the truth of the Word, the Sacraments (especially the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist), the liturgy, the ancient way of doing things, the timelessness of it all, and again, truth.”
• “If there are three words to sum up my statements, here they are: relationship, practicality and accessibility.”
How about you? What do you need and want from your parish? The parish staff is here for you, and we need to always be sure that we are responding to what matters to you the most. If there is something you would like to share about that, let me know through a note, email, in person or though my blog. Then together, we can work at figuring out how to respond for you and for the parish as a whole. This is one of the two main reasons we are continuing the planning process. The two reasons are:
1. To develop a clear understanding of who we are as a parish community, so that everyone involved with the parish in any way experiences that we are a unified community with a specific mission related to the overall mission of the Body of Christ.
2. To identify and enact strategies which ensure our developing the resources of time, talent and treasure necessary for now and for the future.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Words, thoughts and ideas have consequences
The reaction of people who were very supportive of sites advocating getting rid of Rep.Giffords and her colleagues to postings which suggest that such advocacy could have played in role in an attempt by to get rid of her is, at best, perplexing. What so many are saying, in essence,is that no one has any right to hold haters accountable for hate-filled language. Was Henry II completely free from responsibility when his guards killed Becket because their king asked publicly: "Will no one rid me of this man?" Want to get on the King's good side? Rid him of this man.
Sarah Palin posted on her blog a listing the names of every Congressional supporter of Health Care reform. She highlighted the names of those who were reelected by placing the representation of the crosshairs of a rifle over each name. Did she want Rep. Giffords shot in the head with a rifle? Probably not, although the only existing evidence suggests the possibility. The only evidence of any sort I have seen about what Sarah Palin did or did not want her followers to think in terms of Rep. Giffords is what she posted, putting Rep. Giffords name in a cross hairs and saying she needed to be gotten rid of. I only know she wrote it. I do not know for sure that she meant it, but she did write it.
Her followers cannot know her true intent for sure, either. Yet many have turned viscously on those who suggest that SP's posting might possibly have influenced to some extent the fact that someone she advocated getting rid of through the crosshairs of a rifle was shot in the head through the crosshairs of a rifle. Might the language of this posting and others like it have been heard by someone with a mental disability?
If we do not want to be held accountable for what we say or suggest, we could always refrain from saying or suggesting it. Let's be honest. She said it. Sure it would take someone without all of their faculties to act on the suggestion, but someone without all of his faculties did! That does not prove anything. But to dismiss completely any responsibility whatsoever for this action from those who stated wishes for exactly what was done to be done is very disingenuous.
Let's change the tone of our disagreements. Then there will be fewer suggestions for the less than perfect to effect, and innocence can truly be claimed. To say nothing of honesty.
Sarah Palin posted on her blog a listing the names of every Congressional supporter of Health Care reform. She highlighted the names of those who were reelected by placing the representation of the crosshairs of a rifle over each name. Did she want Rep. Giffords shot in the head with a rifle? Probably not, although the only existing evidence suggests the possibility. The only evidence of any sort I have seen about what Sarah Palin did or did not want her followers to think in terms of Rep. Giffords is what she posted, putting Rep. Giffords name in a cross hairs and saying she needed to be gotten rid of. I only know she wrote it. I do not know for sure that she meant it, but she did write it.
Her followers cannot know her true intent for sure, either. Yet many have turned viscously on those who suggest that SP's posting might possibly have influenced to some extent the fact that someone she advocated getting rid of through the crosshairs of a rifle was shot in the head through the crosshairs of a rifle. Might the language of this posting and others like it have been heard by someone with a mental disability?
If we do not want to be held accountable for what we say or suggest, we could always refrain from saying or suggesting it. Let's be honest. She said it. Sure it would take someone without all of their faculties to act on the suggestion, but someone without all of his faculties did! That does not prove anything. But to dismiss completely any responsibility whatsoever for this action from those who stated wishes for exactly what was done to be done is very disingenuous.
Let's change the tone of our disagreements. Then there will be fewer suggestions for the less than perfect to effect, and innocence can truly be claimed. To say nothing of honesty.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
The Sirens
In mythology, the Sirens were seductresses who lured those who heard their song to disaster. The term "siren song" refers to their sound and their charm, hard to resist but, if heard, leads to destruction.
Early Christians denied the existence of The Sirens, but said they were a metaphor for women: beautiful and alluring, yet always seductive, drawing men to destruction. Surprised?
I hear the sirens every night, throughout the night. Their song changes often, but they are always there. WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP. AWWWWwww AWWWWwwww. OOop OOop Oop. ooOP ooOP ooOP. WaWaWa…They are a part of the allure of the downtown area, yet they always portend disaster of some sort, for someone: A stranger has been shot; A street person has frozen to death; an elderly person needs hospitalization; a SRO caught fire because the ancient, gas-leaking stove was needed for heat.
And when I hear them, When I hear the Sirens, I feel both the excitement of the city and the fury of interrupted sleep. The sounds of the city, the sounds of the night. Calling, calling. Making clear that this is not yet the city of God, but still a city of nighttime sin. It is a city that needs transformation, while all the while it transforms. Night spreads over the city and what dreams may come must give us pause. If we sleep, we loose. If I sleep and dream through the sirens, the sirens take me to destruction.
Is this world of Sirens real, or are my dreams? Is life so bleak, is the night so threatening on these streets that the calls of the Sirens are to terror and fear?
A man is yelling out front, in the night; in the rain. His words are repetitive: “JOHN PAUL IS POPE. THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. JOHN PAUL IS POPE. THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH…” The sirens come again. “JOHN PAUL IS POPE. THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. JOHN PAUL IS POPE. THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH…” I dare to speak: “You know, John Paul isn’t pope anymore.” “No?” “They have a new one. His name is Benedict.” “I haven’t been that involved. I didn’t know. John Paul was….well, I have to go. God Bless you.” “God bless you too.”
One less siren in the city. Perhaps I’ll sleep tonight.
Early Christians denied the existence of The Sirens, but said they were a metaphor for women: beautiful and alluring, yet always seductive, drawing men to destruction. Surprised?
I hear the sirens every night, throughout the night. Their song changes often, but they are always there. WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP. AWWWWwww AWWWWwwww. OOop OOop Oop. ooOP ooOP ooOP. WaWaWa…They are a part of the allure of the downtown area, yet they always portend disaster of some sort, for someone: A stranger has been shot; A street person has frozen to death; an elderly person needs hospitalization; a SRO caught fire because the ancient, gas-leaking stove was needed for heat.
And when I hear them, When I hear the Sirens, I feel both the excitement of the city and the fury of interrupted sleep. The sounds of the city, the sounds of the night. Calling, calling. Making clear that this is not yet the city of God, but still a city of nighttime sin. It is a city that needs transformation, while all the while it transforms. Night spreads over the city and what dreams may come must give us pause. If we sleep, we loose. If I sleep and dream through the sirens, the sirens take me to destruction.
Is this world of Sirens real, or are my dreams? Is life so bleak, is the night so threatening on these streets that the calls of the Sirens are to terror and fear?
A man is yelling out front, in the night; in the rain. His words are repetitive: “JOHN PAUL IS POPE. THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. JOHN PAUL IS POPE. THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH…” The sirens come again. “JOHN PAUL IS POPE. THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. JOHN PAUL IS POPE. THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH…” I dare to speak: “You know, John Paul isn’t pope anymore.” “No?” “They have a new one. His name is Benedict.” “I haven’t been that involved. I didn’t know. John Paul was….well, I have to go. God Bless you.” “God bless you too.”
One less siren in the city. Perhaps I’ll sleep tonight.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Why is the incarnation (God fully entering the human condition) such a big deal?
Who benefits from this relationship, and how?
Why us?
What difference does it make in my life? Our life? What makes this Good News?
These are last week’s questions, for today’s answers. We’ve left Advent and moved into the Christmas season, so the timing is good. We’ve established that the Good News of Jesus is that God wants to be in communion with us, as one of us. We’ve also established that why God would want that makes no sense to us. So, that’s where we start-- with what we do not understand.
To know and accept that we do not know is why and how we begin our spiritual journey. We want to know whatever we know we do not know. At least, we figure, we should push understanding as far as we can. When we arrive at the place of not knowing, we are ready. First, we try to list what we know we do not know. Here’s my attempt:
I do not fully know God,
· I do not fully know God’s ways,
· I do not know what is beyond what I do know and
· I do not know why God seems so mysterious at times.
Of course, there are more than just those things, but they are ok for a start. By naming what I do not know, I move into the realm of the unknowing. Not very far in, but in, where I can begin to say what I do know and/or believe about what I do not fully know. Obviously, with my list, I believe that there is a God; I understand that God is really and truly “Other,” even more than anyone else I know is other; I know God has a realm—a place or state of being; I know how I would act if I were God, but not much about God’s own actions.
How are any of us to go any further once we hit the wall of not knowing? Left to ourselves, we speculate, imagine, argue and go in circles, never going any deeper. We cry out to God: “Help us to understand! Save us from our ignorance.” But God is so much other that if God were to answer, we would neither hear nor understand. So, the Incarnation. In order to save us from our ignorance, which causes separation (sin) between God and ourselves, God takes on the only nature we really understand at all: ours! We move toward the answers in human form, (knowing that there is still more) and we live according to what we have learned, (if we so choose). Paraphrasing the very old Baltimore catechism, we grow in knowing, loving and serving God in this world, and enter into the place where all is known, all are served and do the serving, all is loved, understood and lived out, aka heaven. God became human so humans could approach the divine. Good News indeed! Thank you, Jesus, and Happy Birthday.
Who benefits from this relationship, and how?
Why us?
What difference does it make in my life? Our life? What makes this Good News?
These are last week’s questions, for today’s answers. We’ve left Advent and moved into the Christmas season, so the timing is good. We’ve established that the Good News of Jesus is that God wants to be in communion with us, as one of us. We’ve also established that why God would want that makes no sense to us. So, that’s where we start-- with what we do not understand.
To know and accept that we do not know is why and how we begin our spiritual journey. We want to know whatever we know we do not know. At least, we figure, we should push understanding as far as we can. When we arrive at the place of not knowing, we are ready. First, we try to list what we know we do not know. Here’s my attempt:
I do not fully know God,
· I do not fully know God’s ways,
· I do not know what is beyond what I do know and
· I do not know why God seems so mysterious at times.
Of course, there are more than just those things, but they are ok for a start. By naming what I do not know, I move into the realm of the unknowing. Not very far in, but in, where I can begin to say what I do know and/or believe about what I do not fully know. Obviously, with my list, I believe that there is a God; I understand that God is really and truly “Other,” even more than anyone else I know is other; I know God has a realm—a place or state of being; I know how I would act if I were God, but not much about God’s own actions.
How are any of us to go any further once we hit the wall of not knowing? Left to ourselves, we speculate, imagine, argue and go in circles, never going any deeper. We cry out to God: “Help us to understand! Save us from our ignorance.” But God is so much other that if God were to answer, we would neither hear nor understand. So, the Incarnation. In order to save us from our ignorance, which causes separation (sin) between God and ourselves, God takes on the only nature we really understand at all: ours! We move toward the answers in human form, (knowing that there is still more) and we live according to what we have learned, (if we so choose). Paraphrasing the very old Baltimore catechism, we grow in knowing, loving and serving God in this world, and enter into the place where all is known, all are served and do the serving, all is loved, understood and lived out, aka heaven. God became human so humans could approach the divine. Good News indeed! Thank you, Jesus, and Happy Birthday.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Words seeking flesh
With Christmas drawing near, I'm sharing the first of this year's thoughts on what's going on. Not at the shopping malls, but in the cosmos--reflections on incarnation:
Need I begin by saying that the incarnation has nothing to do with flowers? No, probably not. Anyone who has been around church-like things knows that it has something to do with Jesus, even if they don’t know exactly what. So let’s break the word apart. In carnis: in the flesh. Mix in a little God and we have God in flesh, or the central mystery of Christianity—God's divine nature is fully present in human nature. Or human nature is fully present in God’s divine nature.
How would we explain this major article of our faith to someone who has no knowledge of religion or, at least, Christianity? Why should such a person even care, much less receive it as Good News? The message is that “God so loved the world” that God entered the world to become one with the world, through human nature—who we are. That’s nice, yet there are species and natures in the world that are much nicer than we are. We cause wars. We consume beyond our need. We discriminate unfairly. We are hard to satisfy and too judgmental to be satisfied. We look down on others, even others of our own species. We compete. We hate. We hurt. We take. We are rarely satisfied. God so loved this?
I suppose that if a well-known leader like President Obama or Pope Benedict were to come to me and say, “I want you as my best friend,” I’d be flattered. I’d also be suspicious. “Are you sure you mean me? Even my friends can only take so much of me. I know myself. Why me?” It would make no sense to me, but I would sure work hard at being the best friend I could be, knowing full well that I had done nothing to earn the privilege. Still, it would really be strange.
God wants to be one of us, one with us? Is God no better than us. Tthe Old Testament does make God look pretty unstable at times—happy one day, foolish the next, needing anger management the third, etc.? We work so hard trying to be God, and God wants to be us? Is not even God ever satisfied? What is in it for God, and what is in it for us? These are human questions—at least among the one’s this human would have.
There is great danger in attributing to God only those human characteristics with which we are familiar. I suspect there is more to God than that. Heck, there is more to us than that! In becoming one with us, through the human Jesus, we are invited to be what we cannot even conceive of being, without loosing our humanness.
So, some questions. Let us reflect on them during the third week of Advent, and try to answer some of them during the fourth:
Why is the incarnation (God fully entering the human condition) such a big deal?
Who benefits from this relationship, and how?
Why us?
What difference does it make in my life? Our life? What makes this Good News?
Need I begin by saying that the incarnation has nothing to do with flowers? No, probably not. Anyone who has been around church-like things knows that it has something to do with Jesus, even if they don’t know exactly what. So let’s break the word apart. In carnis: in the flesh. Mix in a little God and we have God in flesh, or the central mystery of Christianity—God's divine nature is fully present in human nature. Or human nature is fully present in God’s divine nature.
How would we explain this major article of our faith to someone who has no knowledge of religion or, at least, Christianity? Why should such a person even care, much less receive it as Good News? The message is that “God so loved the world” that God entered the world to become one with the world, through human nature—who we are. That’s nice, yet there are species and natures in the world that are much nicer than we are. We cause wars. We consume beyond our need. We discriminate unfairly. We are hard to satisfy and too judgmental to be satisfied. We look down on others, even others of our own species. We compete. We hate. We hurt. We take. We are rarely satisfied. God so loved this?
I suppose that if a well-known leader like President Obama or Pope Benedict were to come to me and say, “I want you as my best friend,” I’d be flattered. I’d also be suspicious. “Are you sure you mean me? Even my friends can only take so much of me. I know myself. Why me?” It would make no sense to me, but I would sure work hard at being the best friend I could be, knowing full well that I had done nothing to earn the privilege. Still, it would really be strange.
God wants to be one of us, one with us? Is God no better than us. Tthe Old Testament does make God look pretty unstable at times—happy one day, foolish the next, needing anger management the third, etc.? We work so hard trying to be God, and God wants to be us? Is not even God ever satisfied? What is in it for God, and what is in it for us? These are human questions—at least among the one’s this human would have.
There is great danger in attributing to God only those human characteristics with which we are familiar. I suspect there is more to God than that. Heck, there is more to us than that! In becoming one with us, through the human Jesus, we are invited to be what we cannot even conceive of being, without loosing our humanness.
So, some questions. Let us reflect on them during the third week of Advent, and try to answer some of them during the fourth:
Why is the incarnation (God fully entering the human condition) such a big deal?
Who benefits from this relationship, and how?
Why us?
What difference does it make in my life? Our life? What makes this Good News?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
From Lorenz:
I think the Church finally said what most people think: if you have
AIDS and are going to have sex, use a condom.
At the same time, you can still say it's better to be open to life and
in marriage--and that's about all we can take from this.
And that's it. Benedict will tell us if he has anything else to say;
until then, it's speculation, obsession and joining the media frenzy.
I think the Church finally said what most people think: if you have
AIDS and are going to have sex, use a condom.
At the same time, you can still say it's better to be open to life and
in marriage--and that's about all we can take from this.
And that's it. Benedict will tell us if he has anything else to say;
until then, it's speculation, obsession and joining the media frenzy.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Papal Confusion, Part II
Part II
In part one of this reflection, I state my confusion at the Pope's statement about the use of a condom by a male prostitute. At first glance, I saw him being morally relativistic, suggesting that some evils are better than others. But on reflection, I now see that he might be publicly revealing an essential truth of Catholic morality that has been taught, mostly, behind closed doors.
The teaching has always been that the final arbiter in moral decision-making is the individual conscience. Its steps are simple: for each person, moral development is an ongoing process; at one stage of development, an individual might not be morally responsible, even for an intrinsically evil act. At a later stage, however, that same person could be morally culpable. An example: A child of five years old finds a gun and begins to play with it. It is loaded and goes off, killing a playmate. The child is not a murderer. But that child’s father is playing with the same gun, knowing it might still have a bullet or two in it. He aims at his child, pretending to shoot. The gun goes off and the child is killed. It was not his intention to kill the child. Does he bear more moral responsibility than the five year old who shot his friend? Most likely, because he is more mature in his decision-making, and was irresponsible for playing with the gun in the first place. Action that results in unintended consequences is evaluated not by he action itself, but by the degree of moral development the actor has achieved.
Or to use the Pope’s example: a young male who has been sexually abused since early childhood has learned that sex is a commodity. He knows nothing of love, but knows what gives pleasure and warrants reward. So he sells his sexuality on the streets to anyone who will pay the price. As a male prostitute, he hears about sexually transmitted diseases and makes two decisions: one is to protect himself; the other is to protect his customers. He uses a condom and insists that his customers do the same. Are his actions moral? Is there a moral way to do an immoral thing? The pope is saying that by using a condom, the prostitute is manifesting an incipient awareness of moral responsibility. He has not gone very far in his moral development, but has taken a first step—had a spiritual awakening. Perhaps nothing he is doing is intrinsically moral, but his culpability is limited by his moral awareness, which was greatly retarded during the abuse of his youth and adolescence.
These sorts of distinctions are usually made at the level of the local Church. The teaching church usually lays out the principles and the pastoring church applies them. That’s where the confusion comes in, for me. The pope’s statement is pastoral rather than magisterial. He is not presenting the highest ideal in this case, but applying a moral principle to the reality of an individual’s life and circumstances, which is a major responsibility of a pastor. The confusion is not caused by the Pope’s taking this unusual step; it is caused by the rarity of Pope’s doing so!
The customary role of the moral theologian is to present what would be true under ideal circumstances. The role of the pastoral theologian is to acknowledge that ideal circumstances rarely exist and to help those s/he pastors to make the best moral decision they can under the circumstances they face. So a male prostitute decides to use a condom. The pastor works with that person to increase his moral awareness, in the hope of his moving beyond his circumstances o a realization of the morality of his life-style. But neither the pope and bishops who teach the ideal nor the pastor who leads people towards it have any right to impose behavior on or even to judge a person who has made the best decision he or she can, given the state of development of their moral conscience. The goal is to increase a morally consciousness, not to control behavior and punish those who deviate from he moral ideal. Moral teachings reveal humanity in a perfect, ideal reality. They are not laws that must be followed, under pain of eternal punishment, but ideals toward which the entire church strives. If that were kept less secretive, the Pope’s message would not confuse anyone. I wonder how far he’ll go at opening the door and keeping it open.
In part one of this reflection, I state my confusion at the Pope's statement about the use of a condom by a male prostitute. At first glance, I saw him being morally relativistic, suggesting that some evils are better than others. But on reflection, I now see that he might be publicly revealing an essential truth of Catholic morality that has been taught, mostly, behind closed doors.
The teaching has always been that the final arbiter in moral decision-making is the individual conscience. Its steps are simple: for each person, moral development is an ongoing process; at one stage of development, an individual might not be morally responsible, even for an intrinsically evil act. At a later stage, however, that same person could be morally culpable. An example: A child of five years old finds a gun and begins to play with it. It is loaded and goes off, killing a playmate. The child is not a murderer. But that child’s father is playing with the same gun, knowing it might still have a bullet or two in it. He aims at his child, pretending to shoot. The gun goes off and the child is killed. It was not his intention to kill the child. Does he bear more moral responsibility than the five year old who shot his friend? Most likely, because he is more mature in his decision-making, and was irresponsible for playing with the gun in the first place. Action that results in unintended consequences is evaluated not by he action itself, but by the degree of moral development the actor has achieved.
Or to use the Pope’s example: a young male who has been sexually abused since early childhood has learned that sex is a commodity. He knows nothing of love, but knows what gives pleasure and warrants reward. So he sells his sexuality on the streets to anyone who will pay the price. As a male prostitute, he hears about sexually transmitted diseases and makes two decisions: one is to protect himself; the other is to protect his customers. He uses a condom and insists that his customers do the same. Are his actions moral? Is there a moral way to do an immoral thing? The pope is saying that by using a condom, the prostitute is manifesting an incipient awareness of moral responsibility. He has not gone very far in his moral development, but has taken a first step—had a spiritual awakening. Perhaps nothing he is doing is intrinsically moral, but his culpability is limited by his moral awareness, which was greatly retarded during the abuse of his youth and adolescence.
These sorts of distinctions are usually made at the level of the local Church. The teaching church usually lays out the principles and the pastoring church applies them. That’s where the confusion comes in, for me. The pope’s statement is pastoral rather than magisterial. He is not presenting the highest ideal in this case, but applying a moral principle to the reality of an individual’s life and circumstances, which is a major responsibility of a pastor. The confusion is not caused by the Pope’s taking this unusual step; it is caused by the rarity of Pope’s doing so!
The customary role of the moral theologian is to present what would be true under ideal circumstances. The role of the pastoral theologian is to acknowledge that ideal circumstances rarely exist and to help those s/he pastors to make the best moral decision they can under the circumstances they face. So a male prostitute decides to use a condom. The pastor works with that person to increase his moral awareness, in the hope of his moving beyond his circumstances o a realization of the morality of his life-style. But neither the pope and bishops who teach the ideal nor the pastor who leads people towards it have any right to impose behavior on or even to judge a person who has made the best decision he or she can, given the state of development of their moral conscience. The goal is to increase a morally consciousness, not to control behavior and punish those who deviate from he moral ideal. Moral teachings reveal humanity in a perfect, ideal reality. They are not laws that must be followed, under pain of eternal punishment, but ideals toward which the entire church strives. If that were kept less secretive, the Pope’s message would not confuse anyone. I wonder how far he’ll go at opening the door and keeping it open.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
No poor people are suffering
What a wonderful rose colored world is Mr. Beck's. What a hard, hard heart!
http://www.politicususa.com/en/beck-the-poor
http://www.politicususa.com/en/beck-the-poor
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Response to confusion
"So I read your blog and I must admit I am feeling confused by a lot as well. One thing I've been a bit confused about, and I've been wondering this since WYD is what about a married couple that isn't financially capable of bringing a new child into this world, should they remain abstinent rather than use contraceptives? I agree with what you were saying however about how can it be more immoral for a married couple to use protection than a male prostitute. Also, is it only "ok" in the Pope's eyes to use a condom when it's a male prostitute with another male, considering in such an act there couldn't be a result of pregnancy? Many questions"
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