Catholic Sensibility

The students have planned a social after our weekly Thursday night Mass tonight. They’ve requested people bring cats. My cats don’t like to travel, so I brought a stuffed tiger from my very early childhood. Here he is posing with my “Joseph’s Dream” icon in the background.

We’re celebrating a votive Mass for the Pope tonight. The Scriptures are:

• Ezekiel 34:11-16
• Psalm 23
• 1 Peter 5:1-4
• Luke 22:24-30

What do you think? Over the top to have two readings about not lording it over others and leading by service?

How many priests will “forget” we have no pope and continue to mention “Benedict our pope” in the Eucharistic Prayer?

Number 131 of the Rite of Penance, gives us something of a Jekyll-and-Hyde reading. The first six verses are one of the most powerful laments in the Old Testament. The prophet Micah has really hit bottom, hasn’t he? Everyone is under suspicion: political leaders, friends, wives and children.

The faithful are gone from the earth,
among (people) the upright are no more!
They all lie in wait to shed blood,
each one ensnares the other.
Their hands succeed at evil;
the prince makes demands,
The judge is had for a price,
the great man speaks as he pleases,
The best of them is like a brier,
the most upright like a thorn hedge.

The day announced by your watch!
your punishment has come;
now is the time of your confusion.

Put no trust in a friend,
have no confidence in a companion;
Against her who lies in your bosom
guard the portals of your mouth.
For the son dishonors his father,
the daughter rises up against her mother,
The daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law
and a (person’s) enemies are those of (their) household.

But as for me, I will look to the Lord,
I will put my trust in God my savior;
my God will hear me!

A long litany of mistrust is punctuated twice. A warning at verse 4cde: punishment and confusion. The prophet concludes his litany with an acclamation of trust. Micah looks to God–and no other.

We might ask why this litany is included. Is it an examination of conscience, and are we to see ourselves among corrupt leaders and unfaithful family members? Are ordinary sins so gross and exaggerated? Or is it more likely we see ourselves, with Micah, as victims beset by people who don’t care, don’t understand, and don’t love us? My own sense is that this passage has a broader footprint. Didn’t the Lord allude to verse 6 in his warning of divisions in the household?

The Saturday of the second week of Lent has a commonality with the Reconciliation Lectionary, namely the following three verses, which are appended to the ones above:

Who is there like you, the God who removes guilt
and pardons sin for the remnant of his inheritance;
Who does not persist in anger forever,
but delights rather in clemency,
And will again have compassion on us,
treading underfoot our guilt?
You will cast into the depths of the sea all our sins;
You will show faithfulness to Jacob,
and grace to Abraham,
As you have sworn to our fathers
from days of old.

When I work with people preparing liturgy–engaged couples, mourners, or youth–I observe that we can take one of three approaches. We can find Scripture that is suggestive of a person, perhaps like the worthy wife of Proverbs 31 (a wedding selection) or the enthusiastic Zacchaeus (Rite of Penance 194).

We might look for a reading that illustrates a holy principle, like love or the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.

We can also engage a text that describes God. And this is what we have in Micah 7:18-20, the last three verses of this prophetic book. This short passage, placed in context of a well-celebrated reconciliation, is as compassionate and tender as the previous verses are harsh and skeptical. Perhaps God has reason to be harsh and skeptical of many of his believers. We are the sons and daughters who stray, who betray the principles and honor of the Christian household.

But we have a God who not only forgives us, but who actually “delights” in showing us mercy. What a concept! As enthusiastically as we might hold grudges against a leader, a neighbor, or even the one who shares our marital bed, God feels the same way about forgiving us.

On second thought, perhaps that litany of verses 2-7 is needed. It places raw human evil in perspective. Perhaps it raises a hint of guilt in us. Perhaps it raises more. However much we bring to the Lord in the Sacrament of Penance, we will encounter a God who will like nothing more than to take the grossest of our sins and toss it into the ocean depths.

Merry Christmas. Happy Easter. We Christians hit up our friends and some strangers on big feasts with pumped up versions of hi-how-are-you.

Nothing much for Lent, though. If you’re like me, same ol’, same ol’.

Have you ever wondered why we don’t extend Lenten greetings? Sure, “merry” and “happy” don’t seem to fit our annual practices of ashing ourselves and giving up sweets and warm-blooded animal dinners on Fridays. But could we say something while we’re wandering the desert tired, hungry, and without our internet connections?

What descriptive word or words could we attach to “Lent,” if we were ever to develop a greeting custom on which the secular culture could then declare war?

Holy Lent.

Maybe a bit too pious. Ditto for:

Blessed Lent.

Can Lent be “good,” like Friday?

A Good Lent to you!

The Lectionary makes mention of Lent as a “joyful” season, but I doubt any of us outside of Vox Clara are buying into that. The French have “Joyeux Noël,” but I can’t see them getting excited about

Joyeux Lënt!

Nope. Not at all.

Maybe we just pass each other on the street and give a thumbs-up, especially if that digit was dipped in ashes and we’re not washing ourselves whiter than snow.

Certainly, there is another strain that might suggest we give up on greeting other people at all. But assuming that a “season’s greetings” is needed for these 40 days, what would you suggest?

Give me back the joy of your salvation,
and a willing spirit sustain in me.

O Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.

My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit;
a heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.

These selected verses conclude the Lectionary’s longest psalm offering, the 51st–nearly in its entirety. Verses 14 and 17 are merged into one stanza. The suggested antiphon is derived from the first of these. Liturgy of the Hours practitioners will recognize one of the most-uttered lines of Scripture in all Christendom.

I don’t know what your attention is drawn to in this psalm, but “spirit,” appearing several times, is noticeable to me this Lent. “Spirit” has perhaps a spotty reputation in some circles these days. Hardcore Catholics dismiss the “spiritual but not religious” moniker. But I can’t say I totally disagree with the sentiment. It seems very Matthew 21:28ff-ish. I’d rather have an interior orientation to God, despite my interjections of refusal, denial, or whatnot. And we might be straying into pharisaical territory ourselves by criticizing those who do all the right religious things on the outside. Do we really embrace the duality that they must be secret sinners? I hope not. This isn’t an either-or situation. Sin is not only tricky, but pervasive.

The psalmist has been pouring out deep feelings, intense contrition, and is obviously in anguish over the harm done to God by sin. These verses suggest to me that if contrition can touch our inmost parts–heart and spirit–then God’s grace has truly had some effect on us. And that is a source of trust–that we can rely on God’s love. Other people may decline to forgive our trespasses, but God sees what is hopefully a deep resolve to reform. And while God may have doubts about external actions, the true battleground of virtue is deep within.

Your thoughts, observations? All of Psalm 51 is here. The cited verses of Psalm 51 are 3-6b (skipping 6cd), 7-14, 17, and 19. Did the framers of the Rite of Penance miss anything?

I used to contribute sporadically to blog carnivals. But they seemed to have disappeared mostly, at least from the Catholic bloggerhood. Or the hoods I visit regularly to occasionally. That would be an interesting phenomenon to study. But another day.

Enjoy the 290th Space Carnival, where I’ve made my first small carnival contribution in some time.

David Gibson characterizes a campaign season as “nasty, brutish.” Doesn’t it seem to be the case? Another breach from the secular culture into the Church. These red hats had better watch out–at this rate they might end up at the fringes of the so-called Culture of Death.

Not intending to defend Scotland’s Cardinal O’Brien, who’s never struck me as a favorite, but isn’t it strange that three days after the man offers a thaw on mandatory celibacy, he’s out? And if he can’t be a kingmaker, is someone else in the college a kingbreaker?

Indonesia’s another big country without a “vote.” Cardinal Julius Riyadi Darmaatmadja will stay home form Rome due to failing health.

Good thing Pope Benedict allowed conclave opening to move up, eh? What if the College continues in conclave through Holy Week? Is there a person to celebrate the Triduum at St Peter’s if there’s no pope? All almost all the cardinals will be holed up in the Sistine Chapel, right? Does some random Italian bishop take over? Or will sede vacante be expanded to triduum vacante and all the parishes in Rome on their own for hosting the pilgrims?

I’ve been reading quite a bit in 2013, including some books on astronomy. In the next few weeks, I’ll take a look at some volumes currently on my bookshelf and assess them for readability by the general public, for amateur astronomers, and possibly, science pros.

I like a good book with information and that assumes some intelligence on the part of the reader. The Brightest Stars fits the bill. It’s accessible by a middle-schooler with a deep interest in astronomy, and contains some good bits for the seasoned adult skywatcher. Fred Schaaf is a long time amateur astronomer, multi-book author, and columnist for various magazines. He gives the reader one-third of the book with background on stars. He devotes the final two-thirds to twenty-one profiles of the brightest stars as seen from Earth.

My favorite part: tracking the movement of stars through the sky over hundreds of thousands of years. Did you know that 420,000 years ago, Earth had two very bright stars marking the north pole in the sky? The so-called fixed stars revolve around the center of the galaxy. But some stars aren’t following the same path as the sun. They “fly” into our neighborhood quickly and leave–all on the time scale of a million years or so.

Mr Schaaf includes personal anecdotes–good color. He gives both mythical lore and scientific history on our twenty-one stars. Also fascinating stuff. I appreciate the attempt to appeal to those with interest in science, history, and culture. He hits on all of that and held my attention.

My only quibble with the book is that it’s not well edited. Sometimes there’s too much repetitive information given, and it comes across as filler. Maybe editors leave veteran authors alone by their thirteenth book. Too bad. A good editor would have turned this B-plus book into an A.

We’ve been fairly fortunate since our church fire to have consistent worship in one place on Sundays. Today, however, was the only exile weekend (late September to mid-April) in which our usual venue, the Iowa State Center’s Benton Auditorium, was booked. So we decided to do as much as humanly possible to promote the change. We were able to score the large hall in the student union across the street from our building. Worshipers were able (as they have been for the past three months) to leave their cars in our new parking structure, and walk across the street for Mass. The Knights also picked this weekend to welcome people back (temporarily) to Campustown with a pancake breakfast.

But as we hoped wouldn’t happen, not everybody got the message. It was on Facebook–all the parish Facebook pages. It was tweeted. It was on the banner all week at the parish web page. It was communicated in “traditional” ways–the post-Communion announcement and the print bulletin.

One of our more active students posted to Facebook:

This was not published very well …

I admit feeling a bit stung by that.

It’s a good thing modern Catholics, God bless them, don’t live in a catacomb-to-catacomb Sunday existence anymore. But they do have expectations of … what’s that monastic virtue? … stability.

It is a good thing to have a known, comfortable, and expected place to which to go to worship. Seven more weekends. Can’t come soon enough.

The Seven Last Words of Christ have long been a Christian observance, especially on Good Friday.

Earlier today I was reflecting on Jesus first words in John’s Gospel, and I wondered how the Lord’s first utterances compared. Maybe they deserve a musical setting, too. The synoptics in chronological order, then John at the end:

Luke 2:49, the finding in the Temple:

Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?

Matthew 3:15, at his baptism:

Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.

Mark 1:15, after the return from the desert:

This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.

John 1:38, the inquiry of John’s disciples:

What are you looking for?

The latter two especially seem appropriate for the season of Lent.

I’m giving some thought to a musical setting. It will go way on a back burner, but it’s something to think about.

I cannot read the original Italian article to make an assessment anything like Robert Moynihan’s piece on the gay lobby/blackmail/college of cardinal news bomb of the past few days. His “Letter #19″ strikes me as sensible commentary.

Toward the end of the piece, a link to which Jimmy Mac posted in the comments today, there were two points that struck me. Mr Moynihan:

I think it is critical to discern whether the Church and her leaders are: (a) being slandered by the attacks of her enemies, or (b) whether human weaknesses, sins and betrayals are preventing the Church from carrying out her mission effectively, and subjecting her to forces from outside her. It is part of my work as a writer about the Church to try to discern these things.

My own sense is that (a) and (b) are both happening. I think the former is about twenty, perhaps thirty percent. But I also think most of the digging for scandal is part of the lamentable modern process of driving up subscriptions and sales to generate a corporate profit. Bad news attracts attention. And the modern media in all its forms, including the blogosphere, gains a currency by drawing attention.

And I think that human weakness is always with us. The more insular sinners are, the less likely they are to be confronted and engage in personal repentance and reform. Is there a Nathan who can confront David in today’s Church? Shouldn’t there be?

A word on blackmail:

Few things could be more dangerous to the Church than that her leaders be subject to blackmail. If a friend or member of my family would be subject to blackmail, I would move heaven and earth to help that friend or family member to be free of such evil tentacles.

There are serious influences other than blackmail. We know that monied interests get access to the hierarchy. Resources can be scarce in today’s world. The Church competes with many other endeavors that ask a charity dollar of us. Some such endeavors amass great wealth.

When I read the article I was thinking less, “Uh oh, blackmail,” and more “Uh oh, money and influence.” Lobbyists. The curia is beset by people willing to trade currency for favors. And yes, I think such tentacles are a danger. They seemed to blind one pope to the danger presented by the LC.

My own suspicion is that this story reflects some nuanced aspects not easy to see in the catchy headlines and the panic. It might be overstated, but there still is a lot of ungodly stuff going on. How to discern which lay people, clergy, and religious groups have an honest intent to speak a mond to a curial official, or a cardinal? Or who is just looking for influence?

As given in number 139 of the Rite of Penance, Psalm 51 is presented almost in its entirety. Thirteen and a half verses are organized into seven stanzas–more text than you’ll find in any responsorial psalm in the Missal. Did those who composed this rite intend this? When do you think an extended musical version of Psalm 51 would be good liturgy? What about this famous setting?

My own sense is that a musical setting of Psalm 51 could well extend into several minutes and involve a more complex dialogue of assembly, soloists, choir, and possibly other narrative forms.

Back to what is given. “Miserere mei …” is not the antiphon, but this:

Give me back the joy of your salvation.

But the core of Psalm 51 contains two other verses more well known as Roman Rite antiphons. Verse 9 is used for the Rite of Sprinkling:

Cleanse me of sin with hyssop, that I may be purified;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

This verse is linked with the following four lines in the longest stanza:

Let me hear the sounds of joy and gladness;
the bones you have crushed shall rejoice.
Turn away your face from my sins,
and blot out all my guilt.

It’s interesting that the framing of stanzas in the Lectionary rather ignore the natural break in the composition between verses 10 and 11. That latter verse begins a poetic echo of verses 3-4: the penitent is calling on God’s mercy again. “Blot … my guilt” parallels the “wipe … my offense” of verse 3.

And we are most familiar with the psalmist’s prayer for a clean heart, and the call of the psalmist for the Spirit of God to sustain a hoped-for virtue:

A clean heart create for me, O God,
and a steadfast spirit renew within me.
Cast me not out from your presence,
and your Holy Spirit take not from me.

My sense is that one can take individual verses out of this psalm for personal benefit. Indeed, it is difficult to find a line or two insufficient as a penitential mantra. The entire composition may be unparalleled in the Psalter as a prayer for mercy. From great sin, God clearly works great grace. That should be a comfort to any sinner.

The gay lobby story coming out of Rome seemed to be just a little too much to be believed. I was relieved to see John Allen weigh in with some sensible commentary.

If you want to understand why Benedict is tired, in other words, part of it is because he knows that putting things right inside the Vatican will take a tremendous investment of administrative energy, which he doesn’t feel he can supply, and which probably isn’t in his skill set in any event.

No, Benedict didn’t quit under the pressure of a “gay lobby.” But the perceived disarray in the Vatican, which may well be one part perception and one part reality, probably made resignation look even better.

Applying the old philosophical tool seems to fit. The pope is old and tired. He said what he said.

We also know that the upper hierarchy is no more or less virtuous than any other group of human beings. Ordination, elevation, and careerism impart no special quality of holiness. Holiness derives from God’s grace and from human cooperation with God’s call in our lives. That cooperation might be found in the call to ordination and service, especially if that is aligned with the God-given gifts and abilities of the believer. But thwarting God’s call by the human expressions of nepotism, careerism, greed, and other human considerations–this will result in decay of the culture, especially the individuals and groups involved. There’s no getting around that.

I don’t believe you can completely discount the cumulative impact of the various meltdowns over the last eight years on Benedict’s state of mind.

This makes more sense. Pope Benedict was already at the end of a career as a professor, theologian, bishop, and curial bureaucrat in 2005. He likely counted on a united support from his brothers in the episcopacy and especially the curia. It’s rather ironic that he was unsuccessful in achieving unity with schismatics, and continued to take the hard line against bishops like William Morris who were no threat to him or to the Gospel. He let bishops like Robert Finn, Bernard Law, and others continue, despite the scandal of their behavior and the damage done to the preaching of the Gospel.

Above all, we need a pope who can cut through the blind spots of the Roman perspective and reorient the upper hierarchy to the Gospel.

Sometimes a reading raises questions. These verses of Psalm 51 do for me:

“Against you only have I sinned,
and done what is evil in your sight.”

Indeed, in guilt I was born,
and in sin my mother conceived me;
Behold, you are pleased with sincerity of heart,
and in my inmost being you teach me wisdom.

The Lectionary gives quotes. The NAB version, slightly different, doesn’t.

Psalm 51 may be a lyrical and beautiful expression of contrition, but it is not a perfect confession. David sinned against his general and Bathsheba and his whole army. That’s more than God. Even a king is answerable to and responsible for his people. And we, too, as penitents, are responsible for our offenses.

Verse 7 is an expression of misery. We indeed can feel so steeped in transgression, and so deep into problems of our own making that it seems to stretch back to birth. I think 51:7 is less a confirmation of original sin and more a metaphor for a penitent who feels something bad has lasted so long.

With verse 8, we find a change of tone. There’s hope. We hope we offer a sincere confession. And in turn, we hope God gives us grace. Would I ask for wisdom? I think I would be happy with insight. Maybe that’s the same thing. What do you think?

Here’s a quote of the day from last month, via RNS. Robert Mickens, The Tablet:

It’s not clear that it would make any difference to have a pope with an African or Latin American face if he turned out to be more Roman than Caesar.

The North American and European cardinals talking about going “outside Europe” are crazy like foxes. They know well that a pope from outside Europe will work out about as well (nor not) as the last two choices from outside Italy. I think I’m sticking to my meme of the past decade: a bishop should be chosen from among the priests of the diocese. Perhaps a see as important as Rome might merit someone from the region. But generally, I’d say a bishop in Marquette, Michigan, say, should be chosen from among the clergy of Marquette. A bishop for Portland from the clergy of that Oregon diocese. Selecting a pope, a bishop for Rome, from the ranks of bureaucracy, from another country even, and from anything less than a pastoral and administrative position in working with people makes no sense practically, traditionally, or Scripturally.

At minimum, nobody campaigning for the spot should be considered. That said, I noticed a blog commentator somewhere talking about the “via negativa” factor from embittered cardinals. Maybe those with king-making aspirations will be limited to the role of king-breaker, passing on stories, and urging journalists and even other cardinals to consider supporting doomed candidates.

It’s why I’m praying for the conclave. We need a good pastor. I’m not convinced that another diehard conservative will sway the Barque enough for another Council. But regardless of ideology, we need a good pastor who can pull the plug on the curia.

Did anyone else see this? The SSPX has until Friday to accept the CDF’s final offer.

It would not be correct to call it an ultimatum as such but the document … imposes a deadline on the Lefebvrians for the first time.

What’s interesting is that the final big event in Benedict XVI’s papacy would be a reunion with Marcel LeFebvre’s followers.

It does however seem unlikely that Lefebvrians will agree to sign the doctrinal preamble the Holy See sent to them last June. According to French Catholic daily La Croix, if the SSPX fails to send a reply by 22 February, Rome has the right to appeal to each of the Fraternity’s priests directly, without first going through their Superior, Fellay, extending individual invitations to them to re-enter into communion with Rome.

Individual invitations? Sounds like poaching to me. Is it likely many SSPX clergy will defect to Rome? Are they likely to get a better deal from the next pope?