Trampolines

The piece on Rock’s Twitter feed caught my eye. Pope Francis addressing women religious in Rome, more so. Especially this bit:

We think of the harm inflicted on the People of God by men and women of the Church who are careerists, social climbers, who “use” the people, the Church, brothers and sisters – those they should serve — as trampolines for their own personal interests and ambitions. But these do great harm to the Church.

Does it seem likely that the problem with women religious is that they are social climbers? Too ambitious? Pope Francis has already spoken up about careerism in the clergy. So this harm is clearly on his mind.

We seem to have far more bishops moving up the power ladder than women. And that doesn’t even include diocesan clergy.

 

How To Choose a Wedding Reading

We fielded an apt question from a commenter yesterday about choosing the right reading for a wedding. It is very heartening to see engaged people take the selection of wedding Scripture seriously. This is a topic that I find difficult to handle in a general way. So much depends on the personality and faith of the couple.

I want to commend and recommend my friend and fellow blogger, Father Austin Fleming, for his fine contribution to ministry to engaged couples. My wife and I were given Prayerbook for Engaged Couples and it suited us very well.

Fr Austin covers some, but not all of the readings, prayers, and elements of the Rite of Marriage. But for each one, he presents the text, then a few sentences of reflection. Following that are usually two or three faith-related questions for the couple to share. Each reflection is concluded with a prayer shared by the couple.

The commenter mentioned she and her fiancé were considering John 2:1-11, the first miracle of Jesus at the wedding at Cana, as the gospel reading at her wedding. Fr Austin’s reflection and questions on that reading are:

Can you imagine how happy Jesus was for this couple? Just so, the Lord loves us. There may not be any dazzling miracles at your wedding reception, but he is ready to be with us in our times of need, now and always.

• The Lord took what the couple already had, just water, and turned it into the finest wine. What needs to be transformed in our lives? In our relationships?
• When do we ask the Lord for help?

I think this is just about right. Read the reading together. Discuss two/three questions. Pray the prayer at the end, plus the Our Father. If the discussion and sharing goes well for a couple, then maybe that will be a meaningful Bible reading for the wedding day. If not, then move on to another possibility.

Even for couples who have already determined their readings and prayers, this is a genius method for preparing for the wedding liturgy. Praying the elements of the wedding, especially a few weeks before the date, could permit the Holy Spirit to seep into the final days of preparation.

A few other thoughts on wedding readings … I tell couples that wedding readings are about one of three things: God, people, or qualities. Any or all of them are quite appropriate. It largely depends on the inspiration of the couple. If there’s strong reflection on the qualities of love or union or loyalty, then by all means pick Genesis 2 or 1 Corinthians 13. If on the couple, then Psalm 128 or Genesis 24. And if on the Lord, then something from 1 John. Couples can read these readings ahead of time, and sift through what “sounds” right. It’s less an intellectual thing (ideally) than trying to gain some sense of God and getting to know one’s life partner and what her or his sense of God might be.

Enough for now. How have any of our readers chosen Bible readings?

And by the way: Fr Austin’s book? Big thumbs up. I keep a few copies on my shelf for couples who seem to need it.

 

Jubilee

Twenty-five years ago today, I was given my last diploma.

Left to right, some important men in my formative life.

The dean, Fr Sebastian Falcone, looking to the next graduate. But when I was in my first year there, convinced me to do graduate studies in my hometown instead of scooting to Notre Dame for liturgy. Or somewhere else for music.

Bishop Matthew Clark in the background a bit. He was the first bishop I got to know. I admired his thoughtful presence at liturgy: prayerful, unflappable, and most pastoral.

Father Joseph Hart at the podium. Professor three times. Thesis advisor. Friend and advocate. A superior preacher–one of the finest I’ve ever known.

The invite:

The family took me out for dinner tonight. I usually don’t make a big deal of this day. In fact, until I checked my diploma, I wasn’t 100% sure I had remembered the right day. My wife apologized for not having a present., but honestly …

St Bernard’s Institute (now School of Theology and Ministry) prepared me for service. And I spent the day doing what I love: I went to Mass, prayed some lectio, talked with a few parishioners including one just back from a pilgrimage to France, wrote up a few bulletin pieces, set up a few meetings for later in the week, worked a bit in the music room, fielded some suggestions from a student on better care for the parish drum set, shared some thoughts and a few jokes with my colleagues, answered questions from a few brides-to-be, looked into another degree. It was a full day. It’s a good life.

 

On My Bookshelf: Evangelization

I’ve been cleaning off the bookshelf in my parish office. A few weeks ago I noticed two brief, older volumes I must have picked up shortly after grad school. Authored by the Chicago archdiocesan priest Patrick J. Brennan, each is a quick easy read: paperback and under 200 pages. Each is out of print, I think. They describe early efforts (in the 1980′s) to revitalize Catholic life through evangelization and a more proactive approach to the Great Commission. Fr Brennan takes Evangelii Nuntiandi seriously. But it was also a time when many Catholics fretted about the word “evangelization.” I remember those discussions in my first parishes. “Evangelization” sounds too darned Protestant. Our people will misunderstand. Can we call it something different? Outreach? Re-Membering Church? What a difference a generation makes.

The first book, The Evangelizing Parish, from Tabor Publishing in 1987 was written by a priest for other priests. Or so it seemed to me. Fr Brennan has a snappy, no-nonsense writing style. He jumped from topic to topic. He offered a lot of forms he used, told a number of stories and anecdotes on how things worked for him. He wasn’t shy about mentioning things that he tried that worked for a few years, then didn’t. Or the occasional effort that bore no fruit.

The Evangelizing Parish progresses from a treatment of “What Is Catholic Evangelization?” in Chapter One. The foundation document is Evangelii Nuntiandi, and Fr Brennan explores succinctly what this might mean in a parish.

The largest chapter (forty pages) addresses “Evangelizing Active Parishioners.” There’s a lot to do, obviously–mainly getting people on board with leaving behind the “productivity” of parish programs and renewing the sense of turning Catholics into evangelizers in their workplace,s neighborhoods, and communities as they attend to greater personal depth in their own life in Christ.

Maybe Fr Brennan will disappoint some by this assessment:

The parish, like the larger Church, is a tool–a tool whose purpose it is to help make the Reignb of god more and more realized in time and space. The true focus … is the world, the marketplace, the neighborhoods, the mores of the nation, and the geopolitical climate of the world.

Honestly, I could set some people’s teeth a-gnashing by suggesting the same of the liturgy. But it would be true.

From here, the author tackles possibilities with “Inactive or Alienated Parishioners,” and then “Evangelizing Youth.” A very brief chapter on “The Catechumenal Parish” wraps it up by page 113.

The other book came out three years later, and while it doesn’t feature evangelization in the title, this effort is both the stated and unspoken theme throughout.

More than half the book considers “Base Communities” and looks at various manifestations of these in North America and around the world. In my parish we have about thirty “small groups” for students each semester. Many resident parishioners have similar structures that have held up well over the years.

Fr Brennan explains why these groups–between households and parish–are essential for faith development. There are lessons to be learned from the Americas and Africa. Notably, no examples from Europe.

From there, Fr Brennan turns attention to adult Catholics for twenty-plus pages. Then he addresses the family, including a brief chapter on “Family-Centered Evangelization and Catechesis.” All interesting stuff, peppered with real experiences: successes and a few failures and some things in-between.

It was illustrative to me what a good, thoughtful, and proactive pastor in the 80′s was doing. Long before the malaise of the later JP2 and B16 years set in. Before evangelization was “new.” When more people, it seemed, were taking Church documents more seriously than the distillation that became the catechism.

A bit of the lingo was cringe-worthy, but I have the perspective of another generation, I suppose. And while Fr Brennan was critical of “programmitis,” a lot of the efforts of the 70′s and 80′s were indeed … programs. On the other hand, I applaud the author’s insight that the catechumenate offers more than a liturgical structure for evangelization and initiation. It can become an effective model for renewing the baptized believers of a parish.

RENEW and other efforts gave parishes and small groups a helpful structure and model to follow. The problem was that many lay people, and a good number of parish professionals lacked the depth or insight to follow up with the published offerings. Catholicism is far too rich to allow people to just sit back and do nothing once their five, six, or ten semesters are completed.

 

Doing More With More

There was a fussy comment on a conservative Catholic web site a week or two ago about the way some of us liturgists go hyper when one person is signed on for more than one ministry at a single Mass. I was thinking about that as I was copied an email from a lector substitute for tomorrow who also happens to be on board as a greeter and usher for the same Mass.

These instances don’t bother me unless they become a habit.

Over the years and many parishes, I’ve known people who defined all their Christian activity in terms of liturgical service. And as a starting point, that’s not totally a bad thing. A willing believer and disciple must start somewhere. Nearly every active Christian worships regularly on Sunday. Many liturgical roles lend themselves to visibility. And visibility is a big part of how modern human beings engage in and with the world.

One observes a Communion minister or a lector and one knows what they do. A social justice committee, perhaps not so much. Is it about church social life? Is it about charity? Is it about politics? Or something else?

Even within the range of ministries I oversee, there can be a lack of clarity. At one art and environment meeting, a newcomer showed up. As I chatted with her, it became clear she was seeking a connection between her faith and the Earth’s environment. Not church building environment. An understandable mistake.

I think the liturgy is better served by having thirty to fifty people involved in thirty to fifty small tasks, and each of them doing their one task with attention, quality, and preparation. Three to five people in three to five jobs each–not so much. Sometimes everything gets done well. But sometimes not. The person who is reading the prayers of the faithful may have a brisk walk to get the collection started. And if the sacristan is also serving as a communion minister? What if there’s a spill and everybody’s busy? Not so good then.

One person/one ministry is not a hard-and-fast rule in my book. It’s a useful guideline. And when the semester draws to an end and people need a substitute, I don’t monitor those communications and throw up a red flag when a person lands double duty. I say a prayer of thanks. And hope the next person to get involved is as dedicated to worship.

 

More on LCWR/CDF

I was pondering another post on the LCWR-CDF dust-up. Honestly, I didn’t think there was anything more to say about it. It seems to be in the hands of the bishops and the sisters. I think the bishops are in trouble, in the sense that they have much more to lose in this tussle. The LCWR, as a particular entity may well dissolve. But there’s nothing to prevent American sisters from calling conferences, maintaining collaboration, and starting a different organization to accomplish the same ends. Women religious will still serve people in parishes, schools, hospitals, and all the other outposts they did yesterday and today.

Today’s NCRep editorial gives a good lead-in:

“A church that does not go out of itself, sooner or later, sickens from the stale air of closed rooms,” Pope Francis has written in a letter released Thursday to his fellow Argentine bishops. This is a similar message to the one he delivered to his fellow cardinals before the conclave, impressing them enough to elect him bishop of Rome

In his new note he went on to say in the process of “going out” the church always risks running into “accidents,” adding, “I prefer a thousand times over a church of accidents than a sick church.”

A church of accidents … a church willing to take risks on the edges … a church dedicated to service of the most needy … a church working on behalf of mercy, peace and justice…

This sounds a lot like the church U.S. Catholic sisters have been building in recent decades. Not only U.S. women religious, but also women religious around the world have been at this work. It is the women who have lived closest to the marginalized; it is the women who have worked on the “peripheries;” it is the women who have gone precisely where Francis is encouraging others to go.

I think this is right. Whatever Pope Francis intended with the encouragement of the CDF to move forward against the LCWR, it seems clear he’s describing the attitude and approach of American sisters. Does he know it? Doesn’t matter. And that’s suggesting that “accidents,” however we arrived at that interesting term, are something that needs correction. In the case of the LCWR, I’m not sure that’s always the case. Even giving the CDF the benefit of the doubt, it doesn’t look to me like the pope is on the same page as they. Pope Francis sounds willing to risk accidents if the main mission of the Gospel is accomplished.

Most every woman religious I know has her eyes on the target and heart deep into ministry. Are some of them ignorant, misinformed, blundering, flawed, sinful, or harboring heretical beliefs? Sure. But that point means nothing, because you can say the same thing about bishops, priests, lay people, this parish or that parish, this community or that, this committee or that, and it would still be right.

The investigation’s problem has come to a difficult spot for the institution.

The sisters could just walk away. And nobody could stop them.

Archbishop Sartain was either the willing volunteer or the sucker for this task. He would seem to have motivation for the project to arrive at a successful conclusion. If he pushes the sisters too hard, they will walk anbd he will have failed in his first big assignment as an archbishop.

As I understand it, the LCWR was established to facilitate communiation between sisters and with the institutional Church. Women religious don’t seem to think the church is listening. So they lose nothing by walking away. And there is nothing to prevent them from maintaining communication among whoever want to organize under a new umbrella.

I also think we’re seeing a new administration in Rome that is concerned about looking out, not looking in. Pope Francis can tell the parties, “Stop fighting. Settle this, and get on with your work.” And what do you think the parties would do?

One way or another, this standoff is history.

 

Archbishop Chaput On The Job

David Gibson at RNS gave a teaser for an Archbishop Chaput piece in Catholic Philly here. The RNS comment:

Philadelphia Archbishop Charles Chaput is also known as a straight-talking fellow, and God bless him for telling it like is.

And a comment that few bishops are likely to make publicly, when asked how the job was going:

It has been an awful time.

I saw the man in person for the first time earlier this year in Florida at a campus ministry conference. He’s an honest chap. I think he’s somewhat misguided on a few issues. But anyone who’s a straight shooter with others is probably not inclined to self-deception.

I spend all of my time trying to figure out how we are going to do the next thing. I ask your patience.

I hope that when I turn 75 and the Pope says it is time to retire and get out of here you will have a reason to give me an award. You don’t have any yet. But we will do it together because I know you love the Lord and love His Church. Let’s do it together.

There was an award connected to this speech. Clearly nineteen months is not a long time to make an impression, but apparently the archbishop has done just that. He indeed has an awful situation. The realities of post-WWII America have made the situation with schools and parishes inevitable. However, his predecessors have leveled a great deal of damage in their mishandling of predator clergy. One of their own might well be in jail today, had he still been alive–and that was coming from the archdiocese’s own lawyers.

 

More Hand Wringing on Feet Washing

From England and Wales, Father Paul Gunter, secretary for the department for Christian Life and Worship, weighed in a few days ago on washing the feet of Holy Thursday women. To sum: don’t do as the pope does, do as the rubrics tell you.

In parish churches, Fr Paul said that the washing of the feet is meant to be an imitation of the Last Supper and “intrinsically attached” to the institution of the priesthood.

Well, just no.

Fr Paul does not seem to have a firm grasp of sacramental and liturgical theology on his attempted point here.

The liturgical context of the washing of the feet is the Last Supper.

John’s Last Supper is placed in the clear context of Saint Paul’s teaching on the Eucharist (1 Corinthians 11:23-26, Holy Thursday’s reading before the Gospel) and part of the tradition Jesus maintained from the Torah (the Passover meal of Exodus 12).

In the biblical context, John’s Last Supper is attended by “disciples.” Apparently not just apostles. And given the place of the beloved disciple–not to mention women–in all the Paschal Mystery narratives, we’re not just talking about the Twelve.

And we have Jesus’ undeniable instruction:

If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.

As instituted by the Lord, washing feet is a mutual exercise in service and love. It is not liturgical theatre to be performed by the highest ranking prelate. Jesus washed, and he asked his disciples to follow this model.

And given the constant Christian connection of this event to the Passover meal, it seems more likely this meal was attended by women (cooking and serving) and children. Given that there is not a denial of their presence, a commentator would be hard-pressed to maintain the notion that women somehow were attending a spectacle of public execution, but not a Jewish ritual meal.

Apologists for men-only rather miss the fact that the Eucharist was shared at the Last Supper. Why the Eucharist for all and not foot washing?

And as for the institution of ther ministerial priesthood, the Gospels have particular narratives in which the Twelve are explicitly called by the Lord. These readings appear in the ordination rites.

Likewise, there is nothing of washing feet that remains in the ordination rite. And I’m not aware of any connection of washing feet with ordination. One would expect that an “intrinsic connection” would be a little more obvious.

It is more in keeping with tradition that people selected for being washed are poor. There is certainly the monastic tradition of incorporating washing of feet with hospitality. As the only criteria, these two instances are also disappointing, a pretty drastic narrowing of John 13:14-15.

I recall doing a bit of research when I was in graduate school on the historic appearance of washing feet in a liturgical or Christian context. I became convinced we have the seed of a lost sacrament. I also became convinced that a broader reading of the ritual has nothing to do with the ministerial priesthood. The focus on who gets washed is misplaced. I’ve been pleased to be part of communities that have employed the practice of people washing one another’s feet. Spouses. Parents and children. Friends. Strangers.

The rubric, yes, is there. It is a problem and a challenge. It could be a matter of open discernment. And we may need to jettison the post-custom “theological” explanations as inadequate. And after that discernment, we can better allow the experience of Christ to shine through more clearly, more deeply. And when we get to that point, we will be in a good place.

 

Stain

The east balcony looks almost normal. However, the plants and furniture haven’t returned, nor the image of Saint Jude from the old Reconciliation Chapel.

It was a sunny Spring day when we did a walk-through of the building Monday. I captured this image of the place of the fire. The window has long been repaired. The carpet was spread and glued the other week. Aside from the buzz of workers, the building seems so peaceful these days, ready to be filled with people again. Look closer:

I was reading a bit more in the Ceremonial of Bishops on the community’s return from an act of desecration. The praenotanda includes this instruction:

Crimes committed in a church affect and do injury to the entire Christian community, which the church building in a sense symbolizes and represents.

The crimes in question are those that do grave dishonour to sacred mysteries, especially to the eucharistic species, and are committed to show contempt for the Church, or are crimes that are serious offences against the dignity of the person and of society.

A church, therefore, is desecrated by actions that are gravely injurious in themselves and a cause of scandal to the faithful. In the judgment of the local Ordinary, that are so serious and so offensive to the sanctity of the church building that divine worship may be celebrated in the church only after penitential reparation for the wrong done.

Reparation for the desecration of a church is to be carried out with a penitential rite celebrated as soon as possible. Until that time neither the eucharist nor any other sacrament or rite is to be celebrated in the church. But through preaching and devotional exercises the faithful should be prepared for the penitential rites of reparation, and for their own inner conversion they should celebrate the sacrament of penance.

People are still angry about “losing” the church building for nearly seven months. I’ve reported my own temper has flared short as of late. And I’m hearing more from people who are feeling no small loss and no small amount of bitterness toward the perpetrator and toward the slowness of the process. When a person is angry (as Jesus showed us here) it is hard to forgive, and even to seek forgiveness. The ritual of a return from a desecration of a Church makes this demand right off the top, as the people gather outside the building:

Brothers and sisters in Christ,
we begin this service of penance
by turning to God our Father
and asking him for the spirit of true repentance.
We have failed to remember his goodness,
we have refused to obey his commands,
we have dishonoured his name.
We must take care never to allow sin
to defile the Church of God,
which is the dwelling place of God on earth,
and the temple of the Holy Spirit.

This is one of those “these or similar words” passages. It is likely our pastor will use his own words. Not these. It’s not as though these words are untrue, or that our injured community isn’t in need of repentance, and a more faithful adherence to Christ and the Gospel. But is the return an appropriate time for this? Why, people will ask, are we focused on our own sins? What about the one who sinned against us?

For a pastoral liturgist, this is a struggle. My own human instinct would be to reject the theme of penitence entirely. Our parishioners will want to know, instead, if the perpetrator is sorry. And they will take satisfaction knowing the person is now in prison, serving a ten-year sentence for the act of arson. But if we don’t engage our culpability (general or even specific) then how will we have grown in this experience? Has the Lord called us to something better, greater, more godly? Or is this just something to “offer up” with a sigh of anger and bitterness? Another notch for the Culture of Victimhood.

Looking closer at the stain, perhaps it will be an opportunity for internal reflection. Our Liturgy Commission chairperson wrote on Facebook this morning:

The stain would be a permanent reminder of our time in exile. It adds character to the area and would be a story to tell future parishioners.

This seems right.

And defilement. Jesus also preached on that:

It is what comes out of a person that defiles. For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder,adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person. (Mark 7:20-23)

One thing I draw from the ritual of return is the need to keep an outward focus. That sense is certainly colored by the new Pope. But brooding over injuries, curling up in a ball and licking wounds–this is understandable coming from my cat when someone steps on his paw. But we human beings, we believers, are called to higher things. If not on the day of return, perhaps the inner look will be one of examination, as the rite seems to point. But also we have the opportunity to rejuvenate our evangelical spirit, to reach out to others. To tell that story. To place Christ at the center of it. To call upon God’s grace.

 

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.

 

The Francis Effect

Apparently, it doesn’t take much to get Italians back to the Sacrament of Penance.

It’s the Bergoglio effect. While some scholars and websites – who were declared papists up until a month ago – continue to criticise the new Pope, whose sobriety in comparison to Benedict XVI has not gone down well with them, the wave of fondness for Francis has also not stopped.

This fondness is not down to a media infatuation: droves of people approached the sacrament of confession again at Easter, struck by Bergoglio’s words about forgiveness and mercy. Numerous Italian parish priests and ordinary priests can attest to this.

This is a nice surprise, naturally. But I’m not shocked by it. I think a rigid Catholic traditionalism, one too much focused on peripherals, was a spent exercise fifty or even more years ago. The resurgence always seemed artificial to me, an effort to wear the 21st century with a 19th century wardrobe. A costume ball at best.

What is most striking of all, of course, is that Pope Francis preaches best when he’s not employing words. Frowny-face Catholics gasp at women’s feet, wet and tempting. Nothing worse than an ordination advocate sticking a female foot in the door. Cluck–bad theology plus poor pastoral practice: an unwinnable conbination.

And yet, we do have a conundrum to consider. What to make of Pope Benedict and his legacy? B16 was not a bad man. Far from it: he was earnest; he did the best he could. There was nothing outright wrong, heretical, or false in anything he preached or did. So what’s the difference? Are the negotiables like style, symbolism, and personal charm more essential to the proclamation of the Gospel than orthodoxy? What does that say about the place of neo-orthodoxy in the realm of evangelization and ministry? Doesn’t seem all that important, does it?

 

On Self-Absorption

CNS had a teaser of a piece yesterday. Pope Francis, before his election, took his turn talking at the pre-conclave meetings. A message that seemed to point at the institution has a resonance with Christian ministry. I’d like to read the whole speech. But CNS only gives us snippets. One of them:

The evils that, over time, happen in ecclesial institutions have their root in self-referentiality and a kind of theological narcissism.

What does that mean? Is this always true? Does it hold for parishes and chanceries as well as the curia?

In part, I interpret this as a direct criticism of the Small Church Getting Smaller meme we’ve seen of recent years. Why? Because that SCGS outlook, even the nuanced one presented by Pope Benedict that many of his followers have grabbed, pretty much takes God out of the equation. SCGS swims in self-reference: the way believers define membership, orthodoxy, what-have-you. Rather than do the work and let the Judge determine final placement. Like Jesus suggested. There is a tragic flaw in that self-reference often tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, rather than a natural consequence of some people being presented the Gospel, then walking away. To be sure, walking away happens. But maybe not in the same way as the self-styled orthodox expect.

The Holy Father’s approach seems essentially Ignatian. Trust. See what happens. Focus on God. But also look for God in the unexpected. I think the prime fault of Catholic neotraditionalism is that its advocates and believers have nailed down that God was to be encountered in certain ways at a certain time in the past. And so the instinct–the human instinct–is to return to the past, to what worked before. It’s like Moses going back to the burning bush in Exodus 4. Isaiah going back to the Temple in Isaiah 7. Isn’t there that saying, “You can never go back home.”

Certainly, there are things that have “always” worked, and will continue to be a good starting point. But Christians, especially in the postmodern age, should be prepared to ask, “What else might work?” and serve from there.

As believers, we do think we’re with the Lord, and he is with us. Why does that not always translate into our actions?

In Revelation, Jesus says that he is at the door and knocks. Obviously, the text refers to his knocking from the outside in order to enter, but I think about the times in which Jesus knocks from within so that we will let him come out.

The self-referential church keeps Jesus Christ within herself and does not let him out.

Put simply, there are two images of the church: a church which evangelizes and comes out of herself by hearing the word of God with reverence and proclaiming it with faith; and the worldly church, living within herself, of herself, for herself.

This should shed light on the possible changes and reforms which must be done for the salvation of souls.

This insight seems essentially evangelical. We can own our closeness to the Lord. We can acknowledge that we have been prepared as God’s instrument in the world. We have a place as a person within a community, and with a role to play. This is original Theology of the Body: the eye sees, the hand works, the legs propel. We work with others, and the mission gets accomplished … though we often don’t see how.

What does this mean in a parish, especially for its pastor and ministers? I’m going to need to give that a lot of thought as I reexamine my role in my parish. In what is mostly a bookkeeping measure, my new job title will be liturgy/campus ministry. Practically I’ve done campus ministry for the past five years, as about half the liturgy volunteers are students. On one hand, this is just about half of my personnel expenses coming out of the campus ministry endowment. But it also reflects a gradual refocus in the liturgy/music position in this faith community.

I’m going to be watching more carefully what is coming out of the pope’s mouth and from his pen in the coming months. Not that I wasn’t paying attention to Pope Benedict, but this evangelical focus with a wide swath of discernment is an opportunity. One side of that opportunity is personal: keeping watch that my service to the Church does not become something that’s about me. But also that I continue to explore the possibilities of the border between worship and evangelization.

 

Getting Into My Gig, Part 2

Last week I described my exit from the world of full-time secular work. My experience of the Paschal Triduum twenty years ago this month at St Charles Borromeo Parish in Bloomington, Indiana was certainly an eye-opener. I had the immediate hope that all parishes would celebrate the Three Days as fruitfully–maybe every parish needed a liturgist to facilitate this. I didn’t make the immediate connection I wanted to be that person.

My college chum Marianne was in law school at IU. By phone she described briefly how student-friendly the townie parish was. The university’s Newman Center attracted casual Catholics who wanted Mass, if that, and no entanglements. She also told me that had “our CIA” at St Charles. “Your CIA?” I said. “Is that what I think it is?”

The letter “R,” she clarified. The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. I had no idea. No matter; I would see it in action. Some of her friends were involved. In fact, I would be crashing in the apartment of the godparents.

An aside here. The RCIA “brown book” had been out since 1972, but implementation was fairly spotty to non-existent in my home diocese of Rochester, New York. People who know that diocese by its bishop have the sense it was and is progressive. Really, it’s not. After Fulton Sheen’s attempt to improve race relations and his opposition to the Vietnam War (1966-69), we had a local parish pastor appointed bishop for a decade. Matthew Clark was seen as a throwback, in the sense that he was from Rome. And as a young bishop of the new young pope, he gave the impression at first of being a careerist. Many people disliked him. Plus, there wasn’t much going on liturgically in the diocese. A few parishes had good music programs. Maybe five.

At any rate, my bus came to central Indiana on Holy Thursday afternoon. I was whisked away to a home celebration of a Seder Meal. The liturgy included footwashing, but it wasn’t open as I recall. I joined the community for stations and liturgy on Good Friday. They also prayed the Hours during these days.

In my phone call to my friend, she also explained the Easter Vigil was a little more involved than it was back in our college days. They observed an all-night vigil. My friend was enthusiastic about all this. I said I was probably going to be tired form my travels–maybe I would just go for the start and the finish.

That Saturday was my first experience of an excellent Easter Vigil. The pile of wood for the fire was as tall as I stood. The embers were still warm the next morning. I’m sure we did all nine readings, because by the time the elect and candidates were called forth, the liturgy was already an hour and 45 minutes old. Technically speaking, Easter Vigil didn’t really last from 7:30pm till 7:50 am. We took a pause in active liturgy, while the RCIA community and many parishioners remained for prayer. What else do I remember?

This parish didn’t have an immersion font. So the elect built their own font with a feeding trough, an upper basin, a water pump, and a few wheelbarrows of rocks. By 10:30-ish the plan was complete, and a trickly stream emptied into a pool in the middle of a rock outcropping in the church.

Some of us had an impromptu jam session in the choir loft.

One parishioner was writing out her Easter cards.

Some of us went outside and warmed our hands in front of the fire. One person remarked that if only we had marshmallows to roast.

As a serious law student, my friend Marianne decided she needed her rest and study time. So it was I who stayed up the whole night.

By 6am, the church was fully lit and full of worshipers. I had met one of the elect, a young man named John–he came from a Buddhist Chinese family in San Francisco. They had threatened to disown him if he went through with his conversion to Christianity. But he was a very determined and faith-filled young man. I was seventeen when I was a freshman in college. I don’t know that I would have had the strength and courage to do as he did. But I marveled at his new faith, and his willingness to share his story so freely. RCIA was more than an all-night Easter Vigil. It seemed to do things to people.

We had a pancake breakfast afterward in the church’s social hall. John was still wearing the baptismal garment and the special stole. His godparent (my host) chided him about getting syrup stains on his stole. But John grasped the ends of it and said he was wearing it all week as part of his celebration of being a new Catholic Christian.

That a teenager would endure alienation from a close-knit family: that witness amazed me. I don’t think I went through that weekend with more than a blizzard of experiences and images. But it was as momentous a conversion experience as my first was in 1969-70. When I was ten, I became a believing Catholic Christian. In 1983, I had my first awakening as a disciple. I began to think in terms of doing things, both taking personal initiative in my faith life as well as doing things for others.

I was broke and unemployed. And worse, I had no career, no real prospects for one. And no future. Or so it seemed.

I had nowhere else to go but turn tail and stay at my parents’ house while I started to figure it out. I didn’t see clearly in the Easter of 1983 what was happening. My own sense of being a church minister was slow to waken over the course of the next year. But that’s a post for another day.

I will say that as I look back with fresh eyes on thirty-years-ago, I have a renewed sense of compassion for many of the young people at the Student Center. Especially the eones who have yet to discern a real life’s path. Or who feel that there’s no place out there where they fit. I remember it well. And I can look back on how formative it was for me. But the perspective of three decades is a lot easier than the days when one is trampling through it.

 

Getting Into My Gig, Part 1

I’ve enjoyed Rory Cooney’s entry into the blogosphere, Gentle Reign. I especially like the stories behind his songs and recordings. This week, his post on his thirty-year anniversary as a parish music director plucked a few of my historical strings. It was thirty Lents ago I began my own journey into ministry. My path wasn’t quite as crystal clear-cut as Rory’s.

Thirty years ago this Lent I came to the realization that I was in a dead-end job and my life wasn’t leading anywhere. The deeper I got into college, the better student I became and the less sure of where it was all leading. The last two years (1979-1981) were a struggle. I almost enjoyed my three student jobs more than classes. Residence halls. Food service and catering. Communications.

I think I still had an attachment to my university after a handful of years. I found a fourth job when telemarketing came to the university campus. I hung on after graduation because I could help manage an office, train callers, keep statistics, and be an eagle-eye on mistakes. After a day off I came in to help complete a 1200-person mailer and in a few minutes I noticed some familiar names on the labels. We already called these people. My boss said I was dreaming. A quick check of our last campaign’s files found about a third of these new names had been called just three months before in the preliminary round of the campaign. Attention to detail.

My boss wasn’t impressed with the attention. Our consultants weren’t happy that 382 out of 12oo “new” potential pledges were x’ed out of the campaign. The development office had a bit of face egg–they vouched for the list. People don’t like attention to detail, especially when it’s pointed out by an obnoxious recent graduate.

The last straw was when an entry-level position opened up in development and it was filled before I got the interview. My alma thought the reverse would kick, so they hired a guy who was coming off five years of telephone fundraising for one of the two major political parties. No way was I going to compete with nonsense like that. And after a number of applications and just two interviews elsewhere, it was clear no other college was going to hire me either.

With my fate sealed, I swept off my desk into the trash, announced to my boss I was leaving (and she could interpret that as unpaid vacation or resignation) and walked out the door, nearly broke, but fairly free. I packed up and bought a bus ticket to Ohio to visit my mother’s family. I had about three weeks to a month before running out of money and getting to the Next Stage and maybe something would come to me.

I took a walking tour of Dayton Ohio one day. I like being dropped into a city when I can start walking and see what I find. This day was cloudy, though. I think I was trying to find a historical museum or something. But I got turned around. I was in a neighborhood where it’s good to look tough and not make eye contact. Passed a bookstore. Almost walked in, but I realized that the product offered there wouldn’t make a good impression on my good Baptist cousins. I turned a corner instead. The sun came out. And there to my right was St Mark’s Bookstore. They had stacks of liturgical albums and songbooks I had never seen before: PAA, GIA, St Meinrad’s, Collegeville, and others. I picked up a few and a few days later, it was time to move on.

The next stage of the trip took me to Indiana University to visit a friend in law school. I’ll write more in detail about that experience some other day. They had a “liturgist” (never heard that term before) on loan from St Meinrad’s. I experienced my first really serious Triduum at St Charles Borromeo Parish in Bloomington that Holy Week. It wasn’t immediately clear to me that I was going to follow in the footsteps of the liturgist-on-loan. I did think how great it would be to have liturgy like that back home. Or in every parish.

More on the next steps in a few days. Maybe.

 

Where Does This Holy Thursday Lead?

I’ve been reticent about posting on every news item coming from the vicinity of Pope Francis. Cardinal Law. Msgr Marini. Et cetera. It seems he will be celebrating the Mass of the Lord’s Supper in a youth prison. It had been his custom as a bishop to pray this Mass in hospices, prisons, hospitals, and such.

The medieval custom of washing the feet of the poor on Holy Thursday was kept alive by monastics. I’m sure that’s as much of a derivation of the ritual as associating it with ordained ministry (hence 1956′s viri selecti).

Still, this sort of gesture moves liturgy far beyond the placement and number of candlesticks. It begins to place the liturgy in a direct context of evangelization. (Not to mention service.)

In the internet age, it seems we can no longer suggest the pope’s liturgies have little bearing on the life of faith. Fifty years ago, they progressed in pomp and finery unnoticed by people outside the walls of a big Roman church. Today, they serve as fodder for cheerleading or dismay or things in between.

The stories of Pope Francis’s liturgies are also picked up and noted by others. But it’s good to keep in mind that Holy Thursday in a prison is not the Event, but merely a start. Liturgy, as ordinarily celebrated, is partly for the purpose of the sanctification of the faithful. And how do people become holy? How do they cooperate with God’s grace which offers them holiness? It’s simple. By saying yes to God. We can say yes as we receive the Eucharist. We can, and really must, say yes in other ways in our lives.

One becomes touched by a leader’s gesture of reaching out to the young in prison. It does not end with a feeling of regard for the man. It must continue with a searching of the observer’s heart. Is my heart moved to pity for young people? Or do I feel contempt? Perhaps I feel nothing at all. This is where discernment is key.

Discernment guides the believer to make present and future choices in response to the event. For me, I have to listen carefully in these situations. I must watch my thoughts and feelings–my whole reaction. Am I feeling the urge to assist in some way? Is there an inner movement, nudging me forward? Or am I called elsewhere? And with that last question, is the nudging away due to my own fears or deafness? Or has another path been set for me by the Lord?

This is why I am most hopeful (as I think I’ve written) that Pope Francis is well-grounded in Ignatian discernment. Like a good director, he places options and surfaces choices that might be more or less hard to perceive. And the question sits with us: is this my path? Or is there another?

This must be the best way to approach these news stories. Pope Francis brushes aside Msgr Marini, and perhaps I disagree or get bothered. Then I look to my own life and the times I have been brusque and dismissive. And if this is wrong for the pope (whether or not it is true) then it is wrong for me. And if the pope carves out the opening of the Paschal Triduum for imprisoned youth, then I am responsible for adjusting my regard for a celebrity event into an opportunity for personal reflection.

Getting back to the bigger picture of liturgy as evangelization, this is cause for some long and deep reflection for me personally. Perhaps we are moving past an age of “contemplation,” where getting the liturgy done “properly” is no longer enough. How does liturgy contribute to Matthew 28:19-20 and the commission we have all been given in baptism? And for what will I stand? Liturgy? Evangelization? Or something wholly different than what I did before?