Communion In Exile

I’ve been taking some time with Sister Meg Funk’s 1998 book Thoughts Matter. In it she channels the great desert monk John Cassian and applies his fourth century principles for stabilizing the thoughts of the believer. I’m barely one-third of the way into the book, and I’m taking it very, very slowly. This is very, very good material. In Chapter Three, “About Sex” I found a few items of interest. More on that in a bit.

In researching my monthly liturgy column for a print publication, I was tuning into stories from German-speaking Europe on welcoming (or not) the divorced and remarried Catholic to Communion. When chided that the divorced-and-remarried and intermittent churchgoers should not receive Communion, the adults remained sitting at this First Communion Mass in Austria. I’m not quite sure what to make of that. Is Father Z happy because all those sinners stayed put? Is NCR happy because this was some kind of a sullen solidarity with the forty percent (of German Catholics who are divorced)? Are we lurching toward a Council of Trent proposition that Catholics don’t (and maybe shouldn’t) have to show up for Sunday Mass?

Archbishop Zollitsch and Cardinal Meisner have their dust-up about sacraments for the divorced-and-remarried. The German Bishops’ Conference Prez isn’t backing down, saying it is a “question of mercy.” I think it’s good this issue stays in the discussion basket. Maybe the saints of history can assist us. Sister Meg isn’t connecting these dots explicitly, but she does mention when John Cassian believed it was important for a monk to take a spiritual “time out,” as it were:

(He) wrote a section suggesting that it would be beneficial sometimes to require a monk to take a day’s journey from the monastery in order to reduce stress and allow him to return after such a journey to better relationships within the community. Cassian states that this is a permission to be absent—not an expelling, a punishment, or an isolation technique. This monk is not to be denied the Eucharist, or coming to the table. This leaving is for the sake of returning. It provides time for the monk to work the passions down to a less compulsory intensity. Evagrius, the teacher of Cassian, gives the following advice: Withdrawal in love purifies the heart. Withdrawal with hate agitates it. (Thoughts, p. 42)

The first thing I thought of when I read this was the non-violent method of child behavior modification, the time out. My wife and I used it very effectively when the young miss was young. There were times she was upset. And at times, the time out was as much for me or my wife to get our own upset managed. There was always a hug upon the return from the corner, even if grudgingly given. And a point was made about returning to normal as soon as time out was done.

The situation with a divorced-and-remarried person is more grave than scrawling “The Chamber of Secrets has been opened” on the bedroom wall. But I think that Cardinal Meisner, and others concerned about scandal and the sacramental life must realize that the Orthodox, whom Catholics recognize as having entirely valid sacraments, will permit a divorced person to return to Communion.

Any serious Catholic, including zealous cardinals, must concede that the matter of receiving Communion is not one of scandal, but of discipline. Where it is a matter of sinfulness, that is worked out between the believer and her or his confessor. It is not dictated from higher levels. Where there are legal marital irregularities, that is worked out by secular agencies. Once those matters are satisfied, a second marriage may be blessed, and the estranged believers returned to a full sacramental life.

Later in this chapter on thoughts “About Sex,” Sister Meg reports that in the desert tradition, the sacraments were seen also as part of the remedy needed for the believer beset by troubles, sins, and such, even “when undergoing the fires of sexual passions.” (Thoughts, p. 43, citing John Cassian Institute VI.3)

To be sure, I’m not advocating any sort of blanket amnesty for all Catholics married “irregularly.” What I do suggest is that the situation for serious believers would optimally be resolved by a pastor and/or spiritual director. I suggest that the exploration of reconciliation focus not only on the “sin” of divorce and a broken relationship, but also on a reception of love (not hate) and the exploration of the role of the sacraments in lay life. What I hope would result from this is a renewed appreciation for the Eucharist, not a free pass to do as one wishes. I think this is where we Roman Catholics can rid ourselves of this whiff of pelagianism in the suggestion that good conduct will reward a believer with sacramental participation. And I think we do need to maintain a seriousness about the matter of broken marriages. We always attempt reconciliation whenever possible. We prepare couples before they enter into marriage. Hopefully we do that in exceptional ways, probably with greater care than we do even for the sacraments of Eucharist, Penance, and Confirmation.

Let me offer a few possibilities for Roman Catholic pastoral ministry in an era that has moved beyond marriage tribunals.

A “casual” Catholic was sacramentally married for a brief time, just a few years, experiences a divorce, and then remarried several years ago. The second marriage is “irregular” but has demonstrated clear stability, children, and a reasonably evident witness of respect, love, and commitment. Said Catholic approaches the Church to return to a more active faith life. More active, say, than sending kids to Catholic school. An exploration of reconciliation, or marital commitment, of inviting Christ into the marriage, and a non-sacramental blessing of the second union: what more would be needed? And how long? Several weeks, possibly a few months, and possibly joined with guidance from an experienced married couple and a spiritual director.

A “committed” Catholic was sacramentally married for several years, active in the Church, parish-involved, parented children, but was largely at fault in a marital break-up, perhaps because of grave sin. The person has remarried recently and wishes to return to a life like it used to be. I think this situation should be viewed with more circumspection. Hopefully not from a sense of “hate,” but with the awareness that such a person is very likely aware of Church teaching on marriage, and perhaps has allowed her or his passions to disrupt the lives of many loved ones and friends. I’d hesitate about saying “never” to a return to the Eucharist. But I wouldn’t hesitate to suggest that a full reconciliation in the Church be handled much more carefully.

Obviously, most situations fall in between these extremes. It is here that a sound local judgment will usually be better than institutional policy. Even in the situation of an unrepentant sinner, we should hold out hope that a baptized believer may yet be welcomed by the Lord. More joy in heaven, right? And who are we to circumvent joy among the Communion of Saints?

I suspect God gives situations in which the sacraments are an occasion of the grace needed to tip a believer back from exile. That’s a discussion that’s needed today.

 

On My Bookshelf: Becoming Who You Are

The past few days I’ve been enjoying an “old” book of James Martin, SJ. I showed it to my wife, and she said, “Ah, that was excellent. I read that last year.”

She also chided me a number of months ago for “never” accepting her suggestions for reading material. I guess that’s why she never told me about this book. I’m gong to have to work on that never, I suppose.

The author describes this book as “a meditation based on Thomas Merton’s idea of the true self. It grew out of a lecture given at Corpus Christi Church in New York City in 2005.”

I’ve read other things by James Martin and I’ve heard him speak in audio format online. I’m always impressed. This must have been some presentation to have heard, folding in Thomas Merton, Henri Nouwen, and Jesus of Nazareth to guide the reader/listener to aim for a “true self.” The reading was so hospitable, in retrospect I can see how the words were made for listening, and how they translate so smoothly to the printed page.

Friday night, I went back to the office to edit the Sunday prayers, assemble Mass announcements, field some liturgy volunteers. Busy work for a night I usually spend at home with my family. But necessary work, so I could escape early Saturday for the weekend in Kansas City.

Anyway, I was wrapping up things quickly, and noting that a summer Friday in a college town leaves the student center abandoned and, importantly, quiet. I ducked into a room with my journal, a Bible, and this book. My passage for lectio was Mark 13:9-20. Apocalyptic and cryptic. There’s not always an insight in the Scriptures, and I’ve learned not to force that. I looked up at the wall, and I was startled to see my name in a framed pencil drawing. The first line of calligraphy read, “Todd, I call you.”

No.

Not no to God, but, no I don’t see my name in a picture frame on the wall. This is the Francis and Clare Room. I looked again. Still there. Took off my glasses and squinted. Closed my eyes again. I’m going to get up, I thought, and I’m going to see what it really says. But I stayed put. Predictions of persecution didn’t poke at me that night. But I had been thinking about James Martin’s book. And the call to sainthood. Not just for the mighty figures of Tom Merton and Henri Nouwen, but for all believers. I preach universal sainthood to students. Do I listen to it–really listen–myself?

I did get up–my curiosity needed satisfaction. And sure enough, the pencil strokes of the calligraphy, and the smudge of a drawing changed “At … (something) I call you” to “Todd, I call you.” I sat down and looked up at it. God was still calling.

The central theme of Fr Martin’s book is Merton’s quote from New Seeds of Contemplation:

For me to be a saint means to be myself.

And in order for me to be myself, is to move toward choices that help me to be more loving in the ways I can love.

And that was it. I sat in the sofa, and glanced again at the wall. I wrote a few lines in my journal. And I realized that it was late on a Friday evening, and it was time to close the books and go home to my family. And so I did. I did not indulge a “false self” and set up overnight shop in Francis and Clare or in front of the tabernacle.

I had a very difficult encounter yesterday. My wife warned me about it, and unlike her book suggestions, I followed her instructions and it helped. While I was sitting with two strangers, I was listening a lot and praying and asking what was going to move me closer to love and to my real self. And I felt a weight lifted as one person grew more agitated and the other became more upset.  Conferring with my wife later, she helped crystallize that some aspects we my responsibility. Other aspects belonged to the people I met yesterday. And that was that.

I recommend James Martin’s book very highly. In his last chapter, “All Saints,” he reflects on the diversity of God’s call in the saints. Noting that the saintly life is not without conflict, he suggests:

But there is a problem with this diversity, that is, the challenge in appreciating another person’s path that is different from our own. While the saints grasped this, it can present more of an obstacle for the rest of us.

…

It can be especially difficult to accept another’s unique way of discipleship if we are unsure of our own. Such misunderstanding can lead to disagreement and even strife within the Christian community.

Fr Martin goes on to detail the 1957 dust-up between two saints, Dorothy Day and Flannery O’Connor. His conclusion:

The unity in the lives of the Christian saints rests on their commitment to Jesus Christ.

…

Not so much his settling of disagreements, but their fundamental trust in him. They may have said to themselves, “Okay, Lord, I don’t like that other fellow very much, and I don’t really understand him, but if you say he’s part of our group, that’s good enough for me.”

And in reflecting on my own experiences in an adversarial blogosphere, I see I have room to be more honest, and move toward more loving choices. I also see a bit more clearly a few antigospel themes: the small church, getting smaller, and the ease and glee with which some believers treat the erosion of the Body.

That’s enough for now. Maybe I’ll be back tomorrow for a word or two. Meanwhile, look for the young miss and I on tv today.

 

Following Up: Stations of King’s Cross

Two  months ago, I blogged on Stations of the King’s Cross, reproductions of paper cuttings depicting the Via Dolorosa for London train travelers. The artist has been in touch and sends this word:

On Saturday 26^th May an exhibition of the original artworks will open at St Mary’s, Eversholt Street (near King’s Cross Station.) Rather neatly, this is the eve of Pentecost, which marks the end of the Easter Season. The exhibition will open with an evening prayer at 7pm, followed by refreshments, and an opportunity to view the artworks accompanied by live piano music. The well known Catholic poet Sarah de Nordwall (one of the Catholic Voices) will be performing some poetry, and free booklets will be available for people to take as they please. Everyone is welcome to the event.

The paper-cuts have been professionally framed and will be sold by silent auction: bids can be submitted at St. Mary’s, or online at www.stationsofthekingscross.com. Details of the leading bids will be updated every day throughout the exhibition.

All proceeds will be donated to the following charities:

• Mary’s Meals (who provide one daily meal in a place of education to attract chronically poor children into a classroom where they receive an education that can, in the future, be their ladder out of poverty.)
• St Vincent de Paul Society (who tackle poverty in all its forms through the provision of practical assistance to those in need.)
• The Bard School (an open community supporting faith-based artists.)

The exhibition will be open 9am – 8pm daily up to and including Monday 4th June.

Booklets illustrating the papercuts were available on the Circle Line and can also be acquired for free from the artist’s web site. A sample:

Some audio from Britain featuring an interview with the hosting pastor, Fr John Caster: Stations of King’s Cross-bbc-radio

 

Mysteries To Me

For the militant-inclined Catholic, I’ve heard of the Rosary as a weapon. I’ve never thought of it for internecine use. Msgr Charles Pope caught a surprising amount of heat on his blog for suggesting (as I’ve done twice here) new mysteries for the Rosary. Some of the more strident commentary:

I never pray the “luminous” mysteries.  The Rosary is the Rosary, as given to St. Dominic according to tradition.

It is a shame that the Queen of Heaven and Mediatrix of all graces just did not know what we needed when giving the gift of the Holy Rosary – oh well thank goodness we have JPII. Perhaps in his honor we can now add the Assisi mysteries, the kissing of the Koran mysteries and the I apologize for being Catholic mysteries….. Too many to mention.

(T)he rosary as given by Mary herself to St. Dominic, is perfect.

(I)ntroducing them into the Rosary itself was a pastoral disaster.   It was not an organic liturgical development, but very much an addition of something new.

JPII’s insertion of a new set of mysteries is endemic of the liberal and progressive mindset that is too impatient for the hard work to restore devotion to the traditional devotions.

I think a good clarification would be for the pope to declare that any and all indulgences and graces attached specifically to “the Rosary” apply ONLY to the traditional three sets of mysteries.

(I)t is hard enough at times to remember the three original ones, without complicating it more, to teach the young ones.

People who pray the rosary often do so in private. New mysteries and reflections may have always gone on, as long as devotion and knowledge of Scripture was able to be combined in a soul. But I confess a slight surprise at the battering Msgr Pope took on his post. A self-proclaimed conservative sees how very wide the spectrum is in Catholicism these days, and how the smallest original thought can be a standard by which unity can be broken.

 

Msgr William Shannon

A generation is certainly passing.

I read on CNS that Msgr Bill Shannon’s funeral will be celebrated today in my home diocese.

During my college and grad school days, I attended one or two lectures by the Merton scholar. He wasn’t on the faculty of either of my schools, but he was certainly known by Catholics in and around the Rochester area. His bishop:

His intellectual gifts, lively spiritual life and generous spirit touched countless people, myself included. (Msgr. Shannon was) an extraordinary priest of our diocese.

I didn’t know the man personally, but I can commend his book Seeds of Peace: Contemplation and Nonviolence, a mid-90′s publication from Crossroad Publishing. The threads of Merton (or perhaps I should say the seeds), of the contemplative life, and of pacifism draw together in a profound way.

 

Adoration

Eucharistic adoration in our main worship space.

 

Unfair!

Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.”

Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him.

But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!”

Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” (Luke 15:25-32)

Many human beings have a fine-tuned sense of the unfair. It begins at an early age. And for some, it never seems to let up. It intensifies, and in such cases, causes an elaboration of family, work, and church conflicts. After further reflection on both the LCWR and their more bitter critics, plus a few of the sisters’ more vociferous defenders, I’m convinced that there’s a broad commonality across this political divide. Many Catholics are playing the elder brother. And there’s a delicious irony about how widespread the protest of unfair! actually is.

I’ve seen the protests about the LCWR investigation. The bishops have cost the Church billions of dollars by mismanaging sex predators. Who investigates them? Clergy ordinations are down as much as commitments to religious life. Who investigates that? Parishes are mismanaged financially. Who investigates that?

And on the other side: I faithfully pray the rosary every day, so why do women religious have workshops on yoga, the enneagram, meditation, creation spirituality, feminism,and the like? None of that is Catholic! Why do they get away with it, when I am so gosh-darned faithful?

The women religious themselves, to their credit, are indulging in very little of the unfair-speak. Mostly, women religious want to be free to follow their community charism, and contribute to their parishes and sisters’ well-being with their individual gifts as much as they are able. Interference from people who largely have no experience in religious life can be a challenge. Pile on that few investigators have explored the notion of apostolic religious life–how many still refer to all sisters as nuns? It’s not just the secular media.

That’s not to say that people outside of religious life might not have apt perspectives to offer such communities. My own take is that adults can assess their discernment in community far better than isolated clergy who are largely bereft of daily community experiences, who seem to keep their own counsel when they reach the Top, and seem to lack the basic curiosity about what makes vowed religious life tick. The pope and cardinals and bishops seem more like elder brothers in this light, sneering at choices they would not have made, and sowing seeds of suspicion amongst themselves.

The parable of the prodigal and faithful sons is extremely illustrative. What a brilliant microcosm of human alienation. The elder son makes a demand of his father: “Listen!” Then he goes on his rant, not even acknowledging his relationship with his brother, referring to him as “this son of yours.”

The father does indeed listen, and reminds his elder child than the person in question is a “brother of yours.”

The ideal result is not the prim smug expression of the elder brother when the younger sibling gets what’s coming to her or him. My mother was fairly strict about sibling punishment not being a spectator sport in our house growing up. I don’t think the blogosphere is contributing much of good health to the CDF-LCWR divide.

Myself, I don’t enjoy seeing the hierarchy being made into mincemeat over this, either in church circles or in the secular press. A weakened college of bishops is a weakness in the Body. My friend Dale Price wondered if I’d prefer Rome and the bishops muzzled. And no, I hope that doesn’t happen. I think the kind of leadership I’d hope to see is more along the lines of the father than the elder brother. The father was willing to meet his younger son halfway up the road. The father exits the house and leaves the party to greet his elder son who refuses to enter. It is the ministry of a father (or a parent) to move to where the children are. We do not hold court. We must demonstrate the lengths that should be gone to in order to reconcile a family and restore relationships.

Whether anybody likes it or not, it is the task of Archbishop Sartain, and his brother bishops, to meet the LCWR where they are. If, that is, they believe they are true fathers, and if they believe the sisters are authentically wayward. It is those kinds of gestures that demonstrate true ministry, true respect, and true hope for reconciliation. Lacking that, I would take it as a sign that my suspicions are more aligned with the LCWR crackdown being a bunch of bitter old men resentful over two generations of hurt. In which case, it would be time to grow up. To grow into the role of a true father. To learn a lesson from the Lord, Luke 15:11-32- like.

 

On Death and Life

The last priest who hired me for parish service is facing his final weeks.

His lasting legacy may be with the young in his years working at Catholic high schools in Waterloo and Cedar Rapids, at Loras College and Iowa State.

“He was able to get them to open up and talk about those things they were going through as young adults,” said Misty Prater, an ISU campus minister who served under Hemann. “I learned to be a person who listens, to be truly present with people in their lives, in their joys and struggles.”

 

Hymn of Kassia

Palm Sunday and the Triduum dominate Holy Week like no liturgies of any other week. And yet, the last days of Lent are not without their moving moments. Today is Spy Wednesday, and is associated with the woman anointing Jesus’ feet, and especially the disapproval of Judas and his act of betrayal.

The Orthodox saint and composer Kassia offers a hymn for the anointing:

Sensing Thy divinity, O Lord, a woman of many sins

takes it upon herself to become a myrrh-bearer,

And in deep mourning brings before Thee fragrant oil

in anticipation of Thy burial; crying:

“Woe to me! For night is unto me, oestrus of lechery,

a dark and moonless eros of sin.

Receive the wellsprings of my tears,

O Thou who gatherest the waters of the oceans into clouds.

Bend to me, to the sorrows of my heart,

O Thou who bendedst down the heavens in Thy ineffable self-emptying.

I will kiss Thine immaculate feet

and dry them with the locks of my hair;

Those very feet whose sound Eve heard at dusk in Paradise

and hid herself in fear.

Who shall reckon the multitude of my sins,

or the abysses of Thy judgment, O Saviour of my soul?

Do not ignore me, Thy handmaiden,

O Thou whose mercy is endless.”

The rendering in Byzantine chant is quite moving.

I’m sure the text of the Greek original is marvelous–even this translation is remarkable. Gathering oceans into clouds, the reference to the kenosis, the sensitivity to the very footsteps of God near us even when we are in sin: this sort of lyricism is more of what the Church needs.

 

Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten

Leaving off the cynicism, let me offer some music for a Monday of Holy Week, this live performance of Arvo Pärt’s Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten.

The composer speaks on his style:

The complex and many-faceted only confuses me, and I must search for unity. What is it, this one thing, and how do I find my way to it? Traces of this perfect thing appear in many guises — and everything that is unimportant falls away. Tintinnabulation is like this. Here I am alone with silence. I have discovered that it is enough when a single note is beautifully played. This one note, or a silent beat, or a moment of silence, comforts me.

What a marvelous metaphor for the spiritual life. How do we aspire to encounter this perfect unity? Perhaps when the unimportant falls away, and we are alone with God. And if we are able to let go of the complexity of life in the everyday world–if we are able–comfort awaits. One note. One beat. Is it enough?

 

Catholics, Free Yourselves

I had heard of another battlefront in the waronreligion(TM), and I note the CNS news brief on it today. Pardon my interruption of Holy Week with a dollop of cynicism, but I truly wish Catholics, especially our schools, would get our priorities in order before getting steamed about a secular university system. I remember we were riding high on Catholic high schools in Kansas City the last decade. But I also remember three key roles in the Good Friday Passion one year which were to be filled by high school students whose coach called a practice Good Friday morning.

Two assignments before that, we had cooperation from the public school district on limiting school activities each Wednesday evening for “Church Night,” but the Catholic high school didn’t always see fit to observe it.

Bishop William F. Murphy of Rockville Centre:

 (T)he changes, if adopted, will force these persons to choose between practice of their faith and taking examinations, attending/teaching classes or partaking in the other campus duties, responsibilities and activities.

Of course they will. But Catholic schools have offered similar choices to those who want to practice their faith and practice their school activities for decades.

Looking over a few web sites of Long Island high schools, I did notice two are playing a softball match on Holy Thursday. Probably a day game, though. Everybody else looks pretty good. Winter break was the week of Ash Wednesday. Easter Break runs from Holy Thursday through the following week. One school–and probably more–gives Ascension Thursday as a school holiday. ‘Course, you might wonder how many more teens don’t go to Mass on the holy day since they have it free of classes.

And with a nod in Bishop Murphy’s favor, it’s not like parishes can offer Masses at all times of the day to accommodate those who work, study, or play on a holy day or even a Sunday. Is it a real challenge? For a minority of Catholics, I’d say it is. But then again, it’s not the 1950′s , is it?

 

A Spiritual Reflex

One of my spiritual companions this Lent has been the Australian Trappist Michael Casey. His book Toward God has many insightful offerings, and the one that has been in my room of reflection this past week is the chapter entitled, “Sometimes …”

I found myself nodding in appreciation at many things in these twelve pages, but one important observation, helped by Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, is the human tendency to waver in our practice of a determined faith.

We wobble along the journey, stumble off the path, find ourselves attracted in other directions, stand still, even regress. This is almost universal experience. What is significant is the strength of the reflex that keeps us bouncing back. There is something we keep returning to: a vision, a dream, a hope. Something gives us the courage to get up after each fall and resume the journey. This is concrete evidence of the Spirit’s work, far more potent than any spiritual euphoria.

I will confess to you readers that my biggest difficulty with the Sacrament of Penance has been the frustration that it seems to lack a preventive quality. At least for me. When I was a kid, I would confess the kid things: disobey my parents, stick it to my siblings, harbor envy about my peers–the usual stuff. As I progressed into adulthood, I found new sins that would repeat themselves. Confession and absolution would give me a certain spiritual euphoria. But I remember one particularly profound experience of the sacrament, and only three weeks later I had fallen back into my pattern of self-destruction. I went to confession again, only to fail a few days after that.

Perhaps I see today that my patience with grace and with myself was a little lacking. The sin seems almost irrelevant. Was I prepared, I might ask myself, to bounce back daily from committing the same silly sins over and over again? Maybe seven times isn’t enough. Maybe, for me, seventy times seven is about right.

Casey also writes of the “dual nature” of the spiritual experience being “both attraction to God and detachment from sin.” More:

It is not always recognized that the positive element, being drawn toward God, has to come first. No matter how disgusting our sins, we show little interest in giving them up unless something better offers. Then we gradually lose interest in what has satisfied us previously.

I took some time this past week to process these insights. I’m disinclined to share the disgusting side of my life, but suffice it to say, I found Fr Casey’s insights helpful. In the very mundane experience of growing up, I can relate that the sins of my first confession are likely behind me. My life doesn’t revolve around dropping a figurative banana peel in front of my sister, brother, or the dude who’s dating the girl I like. I’d like to think my relationship with my mother involves matters deeper than her saying, “Frog!” and me figuring out how not to jump.

As I often do, these reflections led me to ministry. Especially my “thing” these days, evangelization.

Every human being experiences the wavering commitment, from the doubtful agnostic to the saint. Likewise the people who some judge are in deep sin and outside the Church, are also in a situation in which the attraction to God must come first. Or next. If we are on the fence concerning the choice of running to God or divesting ourselves of sin, we likely should go to God. God is certainly aware that a sinner needs some glimpse of something better.

Our approach to those we might consider sinners is to offer God first. In reflecting on the recent episode of a lesbian daughter being denied Communion at her mother’s funeral, I think the reverent course of action would be to offer Christ. Instead the irreverent course was chosen: the denial. While canonically correct, my sense is that the instinct to follow the letter of the law shows a lack of spiritual depth, and ultimately a lack of hope and faith. If God is so fragile that the edifice comes tumbling down for one breach of rule or law, for one sin, then we really have precious little hope in Christ and what transpired during his Passion.

For the ancients gods were gods and lived apart. For the Israelites, God made himself known in their midst. But in Jesus Christ, God was to be found outside the Temple, outside the holy places of gold, and even beyond the sanctuaries of mountain and desert. And Christ deemed these places apart, these temples of gold and cedar, these mountains and deserts and wild places something not to be grasped at.

(Christ) emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross. (Philippians 2:7-8)

I never quite understood stations 3, 7, and 9 of the traditional Way of the Cross. Why did Jesus have to fall? Okay, falling once–I get the point. But he falls after a bystander is pressed into service. And he falls three times. Is that some reflection back at Peter? Peter, who wasn’t even present, who ran away? Are these falls, in some way, meant to inspire believers? To urge us to bounce back when we have hit bottom?

Simon of Cyrene carries the cross. Veronica wipes his face. I used to see myself in these two people. Isn’t the point of being a Christian to help others in need? Wouldn’t we help Jesus, stand in his place, if need be?

These days, I find myself confronted more with station nine, Jesus falling the third time. I have no excuses for my falls. But thanks to Christ, and because of his grace, I have a way up. I hope, readers and friends, you have a way up, too.

 

Cut The Crucifixions

… say the Filipino bishops. Conference president Jose Palma, Archbishop of Cebu suggests renewal of faith rather than imitating Good Friday:

While we are trying to discourage these practices we cannot also judge their intention, especially those who have made it as their vow.

I knew people here and there allowed themselves to be crucified. No idea it was a tourist draw too. I think I’d rather not watch tPotC and stick to the Scriptures or the Passion proclamations.

 

Some Musical Notes

This morning, as I was reconnecting favorite sites on my browser, I ran across a YouTube channel for one of my favorite musical groups, Ensemble Polaris (image, left). What a fantastic collection of insanely different musical instruments and styles. Highly commended. If I ever formed a musical ensemble, I would strive for this variety of repertoire and musicianship.

I’ve also been drawn to Sequentia above the other groups interpreting the music of Hildegard of Bingen. I can’t quite describe the sense I get listening to this ensemble. I feel drawn into a circle, a protected place. An intimate place. I was listening to this older recording yesterday. As I’ve progressed through Mark’s Gospel this Lent in my daily lectio divina, I’ve been finding the spiritual landscape quite dry. After toughing it out in Judges, this doesn’t really surprise me. But yesterday Hildegard offered a softening of the recent landscapes. Or seascapes. I never recalled Jesus spending so much of Mark’s Gospel going here and there and back in a boat. The overall sense I get from it is a dizziness, which likely reflects more my own inner spiritual seascapes.

Heading into Holy Week, I think I’ll plan to listen to more music. If I had an iPod, it might be easier to incorporate listening into my prayer time. As it is, hauling a player and headphones along with a Bible and journal seems too busy to be bothered with. One of my spiritual directors once expressed surprise I rarely found listening to music prayerful. He gave me Spem in alium, which I found magnificent. But music listening seems to me to stand off a bit from praying. Music playing, on the other hand …

Music for Holy Week, for the end days of Lent. What would you recommend?

 

Stations of the King’s Cross

Clever. Artistic. Not a Harry Potter thing at all. Read up on the Herald feature here. Then visit the anonymous artist’s site to explore Stations of the King’s Cross a bit further. From the artist:

It would be great if the wonder of the human imagination was acknowledged and encouraged more within the Church. Read the letter of His Holiness Pope John Paul II to Artists [1999]. He has such clear ideas about the importance of art to human society. [As he says] “The human craftsman mirrors the image of God as Creator.”

In the pamphlet, the pictures are called

… just a little idea for those Circle Line passengers who believe that pondering on the enormous mystery of Christ’s death [and mysterious enormity of His love] could be a good thing.