On The Road, Again

Hitting the road in a few hours. The young miss gets a cardiology check-up in Kansas City twice a year, and tomorrow morning is the first of these in 2013. That these fall during the school year is a slight annoyance. Why hasn’t my wife and the doctor scheduled one of these during the summer? It doesn’t ever seem right to drive four hours for a two-hour appointment, then turn around and drive back. There’s so much fun to be found in our former city. I was hoping for a ball game tonight. My wife has arranged a stay with some old friends, so I think a quiet evening catching up seems more to everyone else’s liking. Boo.

Unforeseen six months ago was the troubling front of bad weather in the American Midwest. I never like driving in heavy rain. Last night I suggested openly that maybe if the weather was atrocious this afternoon, maybe we just leave early early Wednesday morning instead. My spouse nixed that idea–and she’s right: it will be good to spend time with friends. Besides, Royals-Twins will be a rainout. Boo.

Also unforeseen was Confirmation rehearsal tomorrow night. So there will be no dilly-dallying after the doc gives us the clean bill of health. We’ll have time for a meal on the road. But no real visiting with friends. And guess who gets to do the lion’s share of driving. Boo.

At the parish’s lectio divina this morning, we prayed through just the end portion of this coming Sunday’s Gospel (see all the readings here). The end portion struck me, after Jesus and Peter complete their threefold dialogue of “Do you love me/You know I do.”

Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger,
you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted;
but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands,
and someone else will dress you
and lead you where you do not want to go.”
He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God.
And when he had said this, he said to him, “Follow me.”

I was feeling out of sorts this morning. The seemingly endless exile away from the fire, a rather long and seemingly pointless meeting at church last night, almost 500 miles behind a steering wheel in the next thirty hours. What’s not to be annoyed about?

And yet, the message seemed clear as I heard these words this morning. When I offer my hands in love, in service, I am led to places I don’t want to go. Even if I’m not quite able to articulate my dissatisfaction logically or otherwise, I still see it. Jesus urging “Follow me” seems less nebulous after Good Friday. We all know now where this will lead. We know now.

I think about my wife’s stress with her sister’s situation and my daughter’s worries about just being a teenager. I can strive to make this trip a pleasant one, and blend my “Boo” out of the picture mostly. It will be a gray enough day. This is one of those episodes where it seems appropriate to subsume my dissatisfaction, and look at the bigger picture, the better picture.

Besides, my wife will ask me, “Do you love me?”

And I know what my answer will be.

 

Bad-Mouthing the Patriarchs

Lent concludes at sundown. Indeed, as this is posted, a good chunk of the Eastern hemisphere is already into the Triduum, washing feet and transferring the Eucharist for adoration and prayer.

I’ve been noting the heightened discussion the past few days as the American SCOTUS considers anti-gay laws. One of the more laughable tracks in the argument centers on the biblical foundations of marriage as set down in Genesis. Have any of these people actually read the whole book? Or are they fixated on the charming quote Jesus pulls out to urge people to fidelity?

I’ve spent the last several months in Genesis as part of my daily practice of lectio divina. At times it has been a struggle. A serious struggle. There’s a lot of behavior by traditionally sympathetic characters that I’ve found distracting, disturbing, and not directly conducive to prayer. In my own life these past several weeks, it has led me to a long consideration of compassion. Compassion for people long-dead. Compassion for people who put up with me on a daily basis. Compassion for the situation in ministry in which I find myself: a university town in the 21st century.

That said, can we bad-mouth the patriarchs? Can we criticize Abram’s panic at his wife’s barrenness, and Sarai’s initiative to topple her servant into her husband’s bed? I’d like to think so.

This is an episode as dysfunctional and salicious as any tv soap opera. And we honor Abraham as a Father in Faith for it? The purpose of Abram’s dalliance was to produce a child, and there was nothing special about Hagar in his or his wife’s eyes, except that she was a convenient, nearby fertile woman in their power.

The Genesis philosophy is clear: build a family by any means necessary. Especially if you are an aristocrat who can afford it.

Now for the compassion. The moral of this patriarch’s adventures is, of course, faith in God. But Abram was also given a great burden. God promised him a nation, but he had no idea how this could be accomplished with an unable wife. So he and Sarai took matters into their own hands. And while I shudder at the thought of Ishmael (or anyone) not ever being born, what was the point of this? Enmity sown between woman and servant, the separation of brothers (and some might say alienation), and for what? God worked his grace through Sarai in the end.

There are good arguments to be made in the pros and cons of same sex unions. But I don’t see many of them. I don’t really see any of them in Genesis, a book more difficult to pray through than I had imagined. Maybe I need to reflect a little more deeply on these men. But I genuinely felt sorry for the women on the sidelines: Hagar, Rachel, Dinah, among others. The callous treatment of women–family members even–leaves me with a very dissatisfied taste.

So what do you think? Can a Christian honor the roots of our faith in Judaism while criticizing the patriarchs? Are we obligated to hold pen or tongue and just mutter to ourselves, “I can’t see that being right.”?

 

Exit Concubines, Enter One Singin’ Coat

Several months ago I began the book of Genesis as a source for my daily practice of lectio divina. One of my staff colleagues suggested it when I was close to completing Mark’s Gospel and mentioned I was considering Old Testament alternatives.

I’ve arrived at my favorite part of that first biblical book. Reflecting on Genesis 37:1-9 yesterday, the day’s impact wasn’t so much any insight from the text. (I was drawn to the words and contrast on love and hate.) This section was in mind for hours afterward, especially from 5:23 onward. Jumping ahead a bit, I know.

I find it a refreshing change from the multiple wives and offspring of many main figures: Jacob, Esau, Abraham. (Quick quiz: how many women bore Abraham’s children? Answer in comments.) Advocates of traditional marriage are on unsteady ground when they plant their flag in Genesis. Like this commentator, there’s a lot in the Bible I’m prepared to dismiss as ungodly, immoral, and troubling.

 

Are Bibles For Writing In?

Even when I was in college, I demurred highlighting my textbooks. My friends were well-equipped, it seemed, with fluorescent pens of all colors. And every used volume in the bookstore seemed filled with someone else’s study priorities.

One of my favorite spiritual writers is the Australian Trappist Michael Casey. In his book, Toward God, he offers some thoughts on lectio divina in chapter 7. I recommend the whole book, but the chapter on lectio all by itself is quite good. Fr Casey offers six “practical consequences” as the believer moves from reverence into an encounter with God’s Word. Number one is:

What is holy is our reading of the text, that is, welcoming it into a believing heart. The text itself possesses a sacredness too. No harm will be done by surrounding the book of the Bible with care and love. It helps to have as good an edition as our budget allows. We should respect and cherish our Bible–not scribbling on it–as if to impose our own poor thoughts upon the text–but reverencing it in its integrity.

I suspect my instinct for not writing in books is more nurture, not spiritual nature. But I do have in the back of my Psalter a place for a post-it note where I write the names of people to keep in prayer. It’s a tradition of which I could likely make better use.

 

Composing the General Intercessions

I was pleased to land in a parish that had a long tradition of parishioners composing the Sunday prayers of the faithful. The pastor handed me a list and said I was now in charge of recruiting students, couples, and/or committees to take a handful of Sundays–usually a month–and write away.

In the era of electronic communication, this is made very easy. I give my writer a noon deadline on Saturday, and we get the prayers into the hands of lector number three at Saturday Mass in a very timely way.

While I’m squeamish about using a practice like lectio divina in such a pragmatic way, I do suggest our writers use some sort of prayerful method to engage the Sunday Scriptures and arrive at appropriate prayers for the Sunday assembly. Here it is:

1. A few days in advance from the weekend, find a place and time free from distraction, preferably fifteen minutes minimum. Set the coming weekend’s Gospel passage and be seated in a relaxed way. You may want to have a journal at hand. After a few moments to catch your breath, begin with a prayer. Ask God for insight and grace.
2. Read the Gospel passage to yourself aloud–slowly, quietly to yourself. Pause for fifteen to sixty seconds. Perhaps a word, phrase, or an idea will come to mind. Write it down, but don’t try to analyze or justify it in any way.
3. Read the passage a second time, slowly and aloud. Perhaps something will strike you. Pause during the reading, when this happens. Perhaps for up to a minute. Consider this question: what may God be saying to you in this Scripture passage? Write down one or two sentences.
4. Look over the passage again, reading it aloud again if you wish. At the end, ponder what God may be telling the parish through this reading? What prayers are suggested in the lives of our parishioners, through these readings, and in the world this week?
5. If you are committed to this process, you could repeat on other days for the other two readings or even the psalm. The Gospel and the words of Jesus especially are what most people listen for at Mass and make their connections, so make that your      minimum aim.
6. Write out the prayers, using the reflections from your prayer time with the Gospel and other readings.
7. Conclude with a personal prayer of thanksgiving.

 

Liturgy in the New Evangelization

The working document for October’s synod on the New Evangelization is up at the Vatican’s web site. The practice for recent gatherings of the world’s bishops has been to publish the Instrumentum Laboris, or working document, in advance, presumably to facilitate input from bishops and others.

Thanks to the modern function ctrl-F, I can locate multiple mentions of the letters “liturg” and see what the initial thoughts among the bishops might be. In 169 numbered sections, the General Secretariat of the Synod of Bishops mentions worship often, and it might be good to take a peek at how it sees Catholic worship contributing to the cause of the New Evangelization.

As I excerpt sections, I’ll mention that all numerical references are to section number, not page number.

Chapter II addresses a basic question to the bishops and all the Church: Is it “time for a New Evangelization”? (cf. nos. 41ff) What are the “sectors” into which the tasks can be assigned?

Addressing the religious “sector” of the present situation, many bishops reflected on the “silent apostasy,” Christian believers drifting away from the practice of the faith. Liturgy is singled out as one of several possible contributors:

Some responses complained of the excessively formal character of liturgical celebrations, an almost routine celebration of rituals and the lack of a deep spiritual experience, which turn people away instead of attracting them. (69)

This is a twofold problem, I’d say. An excess of formality I would interpret as distancing the worship experience from the people, a disruption of their participation. Previous generations coped by bringing their devotional life to the Mass. The modern Roman Rite is geared to participation. I don’t think it functions with any sort of quality unless the faith community is engaged by the Scriptures and the other opportunities for encountering Christ. A casual approach by the ministers will also fail to communicate the depth of spiritual experience of which the Roman Rite is capable.

The bishops are spot on with this assessment. People have no lack of spiritual experiences these days, and they range from sexual expression to encounters with nature to the culture of sport and the fine arts, or even twelve-step groups and the experience of psychological therapy. And that doesn’t begin to acknowledge what other religions have to offer in terms of a relationship with God. Some Catholics are loathe to admit that real experiences of God are readily found outside of the Church and its liturgy. This is why people drift away. Not because they are unwilling to engage the demands of God, but simply because the liturgy fails to communicate Christ. Parishes must become places for “propagating and bearing witness to the Christian experience and places for attentively listening to people and ascertaining their needs.” (81)

In Chapter III, Transmitting the Faith, the synod preparers take a fair look at liturgy and the sacraments. Take a look at sections 97-99, “The Church transmits the faith which she herself lives.” Leading off this subheading, the preparers channel Pope Benedict and Vatican II:

The best place to transmit the faith is a community nourished and transformed by the liturgical life and prayer. An intrinsic relationship exists between faith and the liturgy: “lex orandi, lex credendi. “Without the liturgy and the sacraments, the profession of faith would lack efficacy, because it would lack the grace which supports Christian witness.” (Porta Fidei 11) “The liturgy, ‘through which the work of our redemption is accomplished,’ most of all in the divine sacrifice of the Eucharist, is the outstanding means whereby the faithful may express in their lives, and manifest to others, the mystery of Christ and the real nature of the true Church.” (SC 2, 6)

Sections 97 and 98 affirm the positive efforts in liturgy over the past few generations. It notes the importance of liturgy in each of the last two synods (Eucharist, the Word of God). It calls out lectio divina not only as a spiritual practice for individuals and groups, but “a natural setting for evangelization.”

Another tidbit, the definition of liturgy as “divine worship, the proclamation of the Gospel and love in action.” Proclamation and love, kerygma and caritas. The bishops have been drinking deep of Avery Dulles, it would seem.

Problems were noted, but not given much space:

(S)ome responses (from bishops) emphasized the complex character between the celebration of the Christian faith and various forms of popular piety. While recognizing some mutual benefits, they also noted the danger of syncretism and a degradation of the faith.

Lacking the context of particular submissions, we can’t be totally sure where these comments are based. Is popular piety such a problem for the expression of faith? Is it an obstacle for lassoing back inactive believers?

There’s a bit more in the document, which I’d like to take some time to read in more detail. You may find it of interest, and I’d invite your comments on liturgy or any other sub-topic pertaining to the New Evangelization. I may post one or two more observations on this document in the next few days. But for now, I’ll leave it to you to further the commentary.

 

Starting A New Year With Paul and Titus

Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, for the sake of the faith of God’s elect and the knowledge of the truth that is in accordance with godliness, in the hope of eternal life that God, who never lies, promised before the ages began– in due time he revealed his word through the proclamation with which I have been entrusted by the command of God our Savior, To Titus, my loyal child in the faith we share: Grace and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior. (Titus 1:1-4)

After finishing up with Judges and Ruth in my daily lectio, I thought a small dollop of New Testament was in order.

What struck me this morning was “before the ages began.” God’s perspective is likely more outside of time, rather than before or after it. I can’t really visualize or comprehend it. But I’m sure that looking in on time, God is pleased when we humans make another annual attempt at being better–better this year than last.

For me, it’s another of a numbe rof possible times to engage in turning around, in metanoia. If not January 1, there’s always, the first day of Advent, the first day of Lent, a birthday, a day when we celebrate sacramental (or other) reconciliation.

For me, it’s also a matter of picking one thing, and spending some focus on it. Long ago, I realized that a handful of resolutions is nearly useless. It’s hard enough to make significant changes in one area of life, let along a dozen.

This year, a recommittal is needed. Daily lectio. After a Fall of getting bogged down in the days of the judges, a musical production, and an Advent full of some sickness, it’s time to focus yet again. I feel confident in God’s grace, as the apostle reminds me we all share.

And peace, too. We need peace. I probably need it as much or more as anyone else.

So, friends and readers: Happy New Year. May God’s peace and grace cover your 2012, more gently and deeply than the previous year.

 

Preparation Method for Prayer Writers

One of the delightful innovations I found when I moved to my current parish was a long-standing practice of inviting parishioners–residents and college students both–to write the Sunday prayers of the faithful. Most of the people on the list were wife-husband teams or pairs of student roommates, or the occasional small group or committee.

I’d like to fine-tune the suggested preparation method I’ve used for lectors, adapting it for people writing the prayers. If any readers have any input, either on the structure of it, the ideas contained within, or on the actual practice of lectio divina, I’d appreciate. The goal would be to stay within one side of one page. 

1. A few days in advance from the weekend, find a place and time free from distraction, preferably 15 minutes minimum. Set the coming weekend’s Gospel passage and be seated in a relaxed way. You may want to have a journal at hand. After a few moments to catch your breath, begin with a prayer. Ask God for insight and grace.
2. Read the Gospel passage to yourself aloud–slowly, quietly to yourself. Pause for fifteen to sixty seconds. Perhaps a word, phrase, or an idea will come to mind. Write it down, but don’t try to analyze or justify it in any way. 
3. Read the passage a second time, slowly and aloud. Perhaps something will strike you. Pause during the reading, when this happens. Perhaps for up to a minute. Consider this question: what may God be saying to you in this Scripture passage? Write down one or two sentences.
4. Look over the passage again, reading it aloud again if you wish. At the end, ponder what God may be trying to tell the parish through this reading? What prayers are suggested in the lives of our parishioners, through these readings, and in the world this week?
5. If you are intense about this process, you could repeat on other days for the other two readings or even the psalm. The Gospel and the words of Jesus especially are what most people listen for at Mass and make their connections, so make that your minimum aim.
6. Write out the prayers, using the reflections from your prayer time with the Gospel and other readings.
7. Conclude with a prayer of thanksgiving.