He should not be Pope!

Well, it’s already begun. Barely two weeks into his papacy, persons calling themselves ‘real’ Catholics are already criticizing Francis for being who he is, rather than being a pope completely in line with their own thinking. It seems that they accept the involvement of the Holy Spirit in papal elections only when the outcome results in mirror images of their own thinking and their own ways of believing.

Calling themselves ‘traditionalists’, they are objecting to just about all of Francis’ actions since being elected—actions that differ from the way things are supposed to be, in their minds: washing the feet of woman; including Muslims in a Holy Thursday Mass; not wearing the fancy yet outdated clothing that sets the pope apart from every other believer; not being adamant about bringing back Latin as the sole language of Church worship. In other words, they object that he is validating Vatican II and its vision of Church.

To my ears, one of the most encouraging statements the new pope has made so far is about how the focus of the Church should not be on preserving itself as an institution but rather on serving the needs of the world, especially its world. The Church should not see itself as the world’s most important entity, with the prime responsibility of preserving and protecting itself, even if that means covering up the horrendous crimes of Church officials. The Church must be willing to sacrifice its own life!

If there is any institution that should be open to risk and misunderstanding and to being persecuted for the sake of what is right, it is the Church! When we put self-preservation ahead of dying to self, we are not the people of God. When rules and traditions are given priority over the teachings of Jesus, when obedience and discipline are considered to be the greatest virtues a person can have, to the neglect of placing love first, we are not the Church.

Comparisons to America’s political realities are very easy to make. Both the people whose candidate does not win a presidential election and those decrying Francis’ election are basically saying the same thing: the only valid truth is my perception of truth. Anyone who does not completely adhere to everything I consider important is wrong. There is no possibility that there are truths other than what I perceive. Unless my candidate or my pope is elected, whoever is elected is an usurper —a fraud—is wrong. Even if he or she is the Risen Christ!

Viva il Papa!!

At the start of our Mass at noon on March 13^th, I knew we had a pope, but had no idea who he might be.  Then, along with the offertory gifts, was a post-it note.  Written on it was “Cardinal Bergoglio, Argentina” and “Francis I”.  I shared that with the congregation and went on with the Eucharist.  It felt good to have a name to say in the part of the Eucharistic prayer where we pray for N. our Pope and N. our Bishop.  Here in Oregon we will have two new names to get used to, as we’ll have a new Archbishop April 2^nd —Alexander. In Chicago they’ll say: ”Francis our Pope and Francis our Archbishop”.  Keeps it simple.

After Communion, while we sat quietly, I had a few thoughts on the new Pope.  At that time I knew very little about him, but was glad it was someone from the southern hemisphere, where most Catholics live.  I was impressed that he took the name Francis and is the first pope with that name. I admire St. Francis and Cardinal Bergoglio’s choice of a name new to the papacy suggested the possibility that he would boldly go where no pope has gone before.

Too, it felt good to have a pope.  This surprised me.  I did not feel bad when the seat was vacant, but now having someone sitting in it brought a refreshing sense of newness and possibility.  Remember, at this point I had no idea even of what he looked like.

After Mass I got to a television and switched between MSNBC and CNN.  They were replaying all we’d missed during Mass—the announcement and his appearance on the balcony.  My first reaction was that he looked scared to death.  Then he smiled.  The pundits were saying he is very Orthodox and very committed to the poor and to Catholic teaching on social justice.  They also informed us that he had never been assigned to the Curia in Vatican City, rode public transportation, had sold the Archbishop’s palace and did his own cooking.  Something for everyone.  He has the potential of unifying the varying ecclesiologies (notions of the role and purpose of the Church) within the present Church.

By the time you are reading this, perhaps we will have a clearer picture of how he will be as Pope.  But did you notice how he never used that word?  He said he is the Bishop of Rome and was elected to be bishop for the people of Rome.  Is that a hint of some impending collaborative arrangement with his fellow bishops?

The deputy press official in the Vatican made this comment, perhaps unwittingly:  We've just elected a pastor, a good shepherd. We're going to have to get used to this!"  Viva il papa.

New Pope

I did not write this, but I find it worth sharing.  A Fr. Daly wrote it, I believe:

Like everybody else, I was surprised to hear that Pope Benedict was resigning. But I was also relieved for him. It has been painfully obvious that he is declining. At Christmas, we saw him wheeled around on that rolling platform. He looked tired. It was time to resign.

Perhaps the most important legacy of Benedict XVI's papacy will be his resignation. It has set a very healthy precedent. In an age when medical science can keep us living well into our 90s and maybe even past 100, it is important that popes should feel free to resign when they are no longer up to the task of their ministry. Pope Benedict showed true pastoral concern for the church when he recognized he could not carry on.

As Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, he lived through the final years of John Paul II's papacy. He saw his friend decline, and he knew the church was drifting for the last few years of that long reign. Yet John Paul II felt bound by tradition to carry on until the end. Benedict XVI has freed future popes of that burden and perhaps freed the church from a major problem of having a senile or incapacitated pope. He deserves our thanks for this precedent.

The Benedictines have a saying about the selection of a new abbot: The abbot should be ne numis sapiens, ne nimis sanctus, et ne nimis sanus -- not too healthy, not too wise and not too holy. In other words, they should select a regular guy. That's what I hope for: a regular guy.

What does that mean in the context of the College of Cardinals? They are 120 guys, all pretty much cut from the same clerical cloth. They are all older men and accomplished church politicians who have been serving in church offices, where everyone is Catholic and everyone deferential.

But I hope we get somebody who has at least some experience as a parish priest. I hope we get someone who has heard confessions and done marriage counseling, been on youth retreats and done marriage prep. It would be nice if he had the experience of being alone in a parish where he had to do all the liturgies, week after week, and struggled to inspire the same people with his preaching. I hope he has had to explain the teaching of the faith to skeptical youth and angry adults. I hope he has to deal with divorced people.

I hope we get somebody who had not lived exclusively in the world of chancery offices where people give him deference and obedience all the time. I hope we get someone who has dialogued with evangelicals, Muslims and atheists as equals. It would be nice if he has a few friends who are Protestant clergy and he has come to respect them as intelligent and sincere Christians, every bit as saved as he is.

I hope we get someone from a big family, with many brothers and sisters.

I hope he has a lot of nieces and nephews who have challenged him around the dinner table and in family gatherings. Maybe some of them have married outside the church or have left the church to join other religions. He has attended their weddings only as a family member. Perhaps one of those nieces and nephews has come out to him as gay and he has had to love them still.

I hope he has several strong-willed and outspoken biological sisters who have more than a streak of feminism. Maybe they have told their brother that they use birth control. Maybe they have responsible and substantial careers outside the home where women are the boss.

I hope he is a man who has many old friends. That he has kept his friends since childhood and that some of the people on his Christmas card list still call him by his first name. Maybe some of them can still remind him of the stupid things he did or impetuous statements he made in his youth. There is nothing like an old friend to bring you down to earth.

I hope we get somebody who is in touch with his own humanity. It would be nice if he was a man who admits that he, too, is a sexual being who has struggled with human desires and impulses like everybody else.

I hope we get a man with a sense of humor. It would be nice if he was not too much of ninny. He might even be able to tell a joke once in a while and laugh at himself.

I hope we get somebody who puts on his pants one leg at a time. In fact, it would be nice if he would wear pants. Clerics should leave behind the silly affectation of dressing like they are still living in some Renaissance villa or a Baroque painting.

I hope we get a man who knows what it is like to be poor. It would be nice if he has dealt with the homeless and drug addicts and the sick for a few years of his life. It would be good if he has had to struggle like the rest of humanity for his daily bread. It would be nice if he has held a job and had to pay his own bills.

Maybe the cardinals could look around the room and perhaps even look outside the room for the new pope. There is nothing in canon law that says they have to elect a cardinal.

One thing is for sure: We need to try something new if the church is to be revived. What Yogi Berra said about baseball managers is also true about the cardinals' choice: "If you do what you have always done, you are going to get what you have always got."

I have often felt that the first step in teaching religion is unteaching. Many of us were taught about God as children, and then no more. So, of course, our understanding of God is either a child’s understanding or no understanding at all. As they age, many people reject the whole of religion, because there is no way a person educated beyond childhood in every other area of life can believe what they believed about God when they were a child, but they have nothing with which to replace it.

So let’s start with our images of God. Here’s mine:

   

  

FATHER LOVER CREATOR

SON BELOVED WORD OF LOVE MADE FLESH

SPIRIT OF LOVE THE ONGOING, EVER MOVING RELATIONSHIP

 The Father loves the Son. The Son is Love returning Love, guided by the Spirit of Love. Perpetual motion. Always creating, always loving. We are the result of that relationship. We come from it, we live in it and we return to it. All is one.

That image probably won’t work for you. What is the image that would? That is the starting point for your adult faith.

Thirty-eight years ago, I began recovery from an illness that causes death in many people.  It was a problem with my metabolism: my body chemistry could not mix well with the chemicals in a very commonly used ingredient.  Through the grace of God, I began a process of recovery that continues to today.  Twenty-some years ago I had a blood test that revealed, in one category, levels that were one-third of the lowest level considered to be healthy. I had a chemical imbalance requiring my taking certain medications for the rest of my life. I have been doing so, and the illness is, for the most part, pretty well controlled. Just about a year ago, tests  suggested another illness.  This one required surgery and there has been an inconsistent recovery, requiring painful follow-up and ongoing medication to minimize its affect.

How do these sentences speak to you: I am sick; I have an illness.  I  am mentally ill.  I have a mental illness.  I am a human being; I have a variety of illnesses?  Do some of them generate negative feelings?  Which seem ok, or even positive?  All of them are true about me, but how I think of them makes a strong difference in my attitude toward myself and toward life.  

The illness of thirty-eight years ago is alcoholism.  Twenty-some years ago I was diagnosed with chronic depression.  Last year, it was Barrett’s disease.  I react negatively to “I am mentally ill,” but not to “I am physically ill.”  One almost connotes permanence; the other, hope for recovery.  “I am mentally ill” seems to define me; I”I am physically ill” is merely something about me.  So while I do not talk much about any of them, I am most comfortable talking about Barrett’s.

But why should it be that if someone says I look unwell it is easier to say “it’s just the Barrett’s”  than to admit “My depression is getting the better of me today?”  One word: stigma.  We can accept someone with a cold or flu, but have a much harder time dealing with mental and emotional illnesses—our own and that of others.  The truth is that illness is illness, but we judge some types acceptable and others not.  People get over a cold, but we are yet to have a way for full recovery from mental illnesses.  Someone with schizophrenia will always have schizophrenia.  A person with chronic alcoholism will never be able to drink successfully.  I will always have that and depression.

But what I have learned here, from our many guests and others who have some mental illness, is that while society as a whole might not be comfortable with us or our condition, once disclosed, we can be.  So can a caring community.  Next time I’m asked if I’m unwell, maybe I’ll be able to say “Oh, it’s just my depression!”

Love Thee, Notre Dame

2012 was a storybook year at the University of Notre Dame, as far as football was concerned. The season began with minimum expectations, just like the prior 25 years. The team was unranked at the beginning of the season. A leading national sport writer had written that Notre Dame football was no longer relevant. Six nationally ranked teams were on the schedule. It was going to be another long, disappointing fall for Notre Dame fans everywhere. Until… 

One by one, week‐by‐week, the team defeated each ranked team and every other team on its schedule. Some of the games were won as if by magic, as if by divine right. The Notre Dame mystique was back! The team shot through the national rankings all the way to the top. The sport writer did penance by shining the golden helmets of each player before the final home game. Notre Dame went undefeated for the entire 2012 season, and was headed to play for the National Championship in early 2013. Notre Dame was back! 

The internet was full of excitement. Students and alums as well were planning on a great trip to Miami, the scene for the January 7 national championship game against Alabama. Top dollar—ridiculous amounts‐ was being paid for the inevitable crowning. It was pre‐destined. America’s team did not have the sort of season ND had without bringing it to completion. Movies would be made. Books would be written. Stories would be told for generations.

Seven Notre Dame students ( among others, I am sure) had no intention of attending the game and its accompanying festivities in Miami’s warm clime. The reasons were not financial (although I have no idea if any of them could have afforded to go or not). Nor was there a lack of school spirit or pride. They didn’t go because they had made a commitment. They were going to do an Urban Plunge in Portland, at St. André Bessette Catholic Church and the Old Town neighborhood. 

All of them, covering each year from freshman through grad student, became very involved in the ministry of the parish and its neighborhood partners. They lived out the corporal works of mercy by feeding the hungry, clothing the unclothed, visiting those who rarely had young people taking any interest in their lives and circumstances—the poorest of the poor, by American standards. What could have been a time of great collegiate fun for them was, by their own choice, a time of service. 

Monday night, January 7, the students joined the priests in the rectory to watch the Notre Dame game. They would excitedly cheer when one of their dorm or class mates appeared on the screen, moan when Alabama scored and cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame. Then the game was over. The students went back to the basement, where they were sleeping on the floor for seven nights. They resumed serving our guests in the morning, with a spirit of joy and pleasure. One might think Notre Dame had won. In fact, I think it did.