Sr Kathryn Hermes is one of our best authors; she now has an "author page" on Facebook, where you can get little thoughts from her upcoming book: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Holding-onto-Hope-Kathryn-Hermes-fsp/218495745660

Protoclete

I learned a new word today, and if it's Greek to you, too, that's because it is Greek! "Protoclete" ("the first-called") is a one-word title for today's saint, the Apostle Andrew. In today's Gospel, it is Andrew whom Jesus encounters first along the Sea of Galilee. In John's Gospel, Andrew is one of the disciples of John the Baptist who trails behind Jesus, gets to know him, and then goes off looking for his brother, Simon. Andrew would spend the rest of his life bringing people to Jesus. He didn't seem to be overly concerned about being in first place (unlike many of the disciples). He isn't even in that much-favored trio with his brother and the two sons of Zebedee who were so often called apart with Jesus (up the mountain for the Transfiguration or in the garden of Gethsemane)--maybe that is because instead of being in Jesus' most inner circle, Andrew was on the outer edge, making it easier for strangers to approach and ask him to help them meet Jesus. (It was Andrew who led the little boy with the loaves and fishes up to Jesus; it was Andrew, with Philip, whom "some Greeks" asked for an introduction to Jesus at his final Passover.)
Just last night I was reading Bonhoeffer's "The Cost of Discipleship, where he comments on the call of Levi. It could just as well have been a commentary on today's Gospel call of Andrew and Simon, James and John:
"What does the text inform us about the content of discipleship? Follow me, run along behind me! That is all.... The disciple simply burns his boats and goes ahead. He is called out, and has to forsake his old life in order that he may 'exist' in the strictest sense of the word."

Advent!

Do you have an Advent wreath? What Advent customs do you practice?
Our Generalate has prepared a set of prayers for each week of Advent that may be helpful for you personally or for any groups you may be involved in. Let me know if you used it!
We have our second practice tomorrow (Sunday) and our first concert on Monday night in Brooklyn. I sure hope we get our music down pat by then, because the diocesan TV station will be there...

Big Fish?

I'm beginning to suspect that there's a really big fish (as in “stray sheep”) who will be deeply touched by our concerts this year, because a whole string of minor mishaps already marked our way before we even had our first practice. Sickness (minor, but affecting the throat): Sr Julia and I. Accident: Sr. Raymond (a hard fall) and Sr. Bridget (a hard bump on the head). Car breakdown: that would be me again, with Sr. Maria Joseph on the way back from the airport yesterday. As we got onto the Goethals Bridge a dashboard light appeared, and then a constant chiming sound. Neither of us recognized the little symbol, so I dug around for the manual. Even after 109,000 miles, it was still in the quaintly named “glove compartment.” Uh-oh. “Engine Critically Overheated.” On the narrow span of the Goethals, with semis before and behind us.

As smoke began to pour out from under the chassis, we finally made it to terra firma: literally. We pulled up on the grassy patch before the toll booth. Seeing the damsels in distress, several cars slowed down and people offered to help. One man went way further than that. He pulled his van ahead into the emergency zone and came toward us while his wife used the emergency phone. Pat (that was his name) was a native Staten Islander, now a longtime resident of Philadelphia. He opened the hood and saw that our coolant was at the “minimum” level. The brisk air helped bring the engine temp down, so he encouraged us to drive to a service station just a bit past the first exit—and he followed us all the way there. The men at the station started right on the problem, pouring in two gallons of coolant while smoke continued to issue from the sides of the poor, much-abused van. And then the lime green liquid came spurting out under the passenger seat from the mother of all leaks. (This from a vehicle that was serviced last week.)

Meanwhile, Sr Julia's plane was landing and Sr. Maria Joseph was to have already been en route to pick her up.

Suffice it to say that the old cell phone got a workout yesterday.

Eventually, Sr. Mary Joan came to the gas station and picked me up, while the mechanics made swift work of patching our leak. (Sr Joseph made it back about an hour later with the well-loaded van, filled with books for our Alexandria bookstore.)

We hope Sr. Raymond will be landing soon... Hope she's “offering it up”--we've got a big fish to catch for the Lord!

Welcome to New York

I'm getting the impression that our concepts this year are destined to do a lot of good. Everything is already going wrong!

Thanskgiving Grace

Here again is the photocopier version of a Thanksgiving table grace that you are free to download and distribute: black and white or spot color, take your pick.

Kingdom Come

We're reading the book of Daniel at Mass this week. Interestingly, this book was written during the persecution we read about in Maccabees last week, but Daniel purports to relate events from a much earlier period, during the Babylonian captivity some 200 years back in Israel's history. Both the first reading and the Gospel offer vivid pictures of destruction and overthrow opening the way to a kingdom that is "not of this world."
The first reading leapfrogs from Babylon into the future, comforting the pious Jews who were suffering under Antiochus and his minions with a vision of a kingdom to come. Jesus in today's Gospel also speaks of the future, although in this passage we do not get the full promise of the kingdom to come.
The Creed assures us that Jesus will "come again in glory...and of his kingdom there shall be no end." I don't often focus on those lines of the Creed. Maybe because they refer to the future, so I don't have an experience or a historical "marker" to associate it with, so I literally don't know what I'm talking about. Or maybe because my attention is set in the wrong direction: backwards, instead of forward. That wasn't the case with today's saints. The Vietnamese martyrs are 117 canonized saints from a time of persecution that crossed three centuries. Yesterday was the feast of another martyr, the heroic Bl. Miguel Pro, and tomorrow will be the feastday of yet another, the popular ancient martyr Catherine of Alexandria. All of these witnesses held fast against the pressure and threats of the "rulers of this age" in their hope for the full life of the world to come.

Ornaments needed!

Mom and Jane left this afternoon, so I didn't have time to even turn the computer on. (I keep it shut down for the Lord's Day.) Last night, Jane and I went ice skating in Millennium Park. That is, Jane went ice skating. I went mostly for an attempt to stay upright, which I managed. Afterwards, we took a walk along Michigan Avenue to see the Christmas decorations on the various flagship stores. Some were quite lovely. Others were conspicuous for their absence. Most engaging, to me, was the tree in front of the Tribune Tower, which was otherwise quite remarkably bare. (Maybe they are waiting for Advent?) A sign informs the passer-by that this is the "People's Tree": you can bring your own ornaments, leave them at the front desk of the Tribune building, and they will be added to the tree.
The "People's Tree" started out as a bit of a radio stunt, but it got "legs" as they say, and the official lighting will be tomorrow. With free chocolate and pizza. (I hope I get there on time!)
I think I will bring a religious ornament over. Maybe I'll even collect a few from our decorations (I'm not sure we have any inexpensive, weather-proof ornaments for sale downstairs in the bookstore) to make available to "people" who want to contribute something in witness to the "reason for the season" (hint: his name begins with J). Maybe I could make something, or use a permanent marker to add a message of some sort.
If you're coming to downtown Chicago for shopping for work, bring a real Christmas ornament for the People's Tree at the Tribune Tower! Or stop in here and see if I found any to share...

Hail to the King!

There are those who say that today's feast of Christ the King was dead at birth. It was instituted in 1925 as a kind of riposte to the claims of secularism and totalitarianism--but by 1925, what developed nation had a throne that really was a seat of government any more?
And yet...nature abhors a vacuum, and so does society. Absent ruling kings and queens, culture anointed new royalty, over new domains. Think Elvis. Think the "Camelot years" in the White House. Think Michael Jackson. Heck, you can even think "Prince" (if you really want to).
Are we hard-wired for royalty?
In "Jesus of Nazareth," Pope Benedict notes that "in the ancient Near East...the king refers to himself as a shepherd.... one could therefore say that, in view of its origins, [the] image of Christ the Good Shepherd is a Gospel of Christ the king, an image that sheds light upon the kingdom of Christ." "Of course, in the Old Testament God himself appears as the Shepherd of Israel."
So we really are hard-wired for royalty--not that of a tyrant-king quick to say "Off with their heads!"--but a Good Shepherd-King who lays down his life for his sheep.

It's fitting, isn't it, that today's feast of the Presentation of Mary now cedes to the Feast of Christ the King? Mary always leads us to her Son!
I was thinking about the feast of the Presentation, one of the few days on the liturgical calendar that owes its origin to an apocryphal story. I mean, the "Proto-evangelium of St. James" is pretty outlandish in parts, and the little story of the Blessed Virgin as little more than a toddler going to live in the Temple has no historical foundation whatever. If anything, it shows you how far the Christians had gone from their Jewish roots, and how early that happened (the book was written around 140-165 AD). On the other hand, this fanciful tale still teaches us something totally reliable, and does it through biblical allusion. Remember the story of three-year-old Samuel, presented at the temple of Shilo to be raised there by the priest, Eli? Samuel is the one who was roused from sleep by a voice in the temple calling him by name. And his answer could just as well have come from Mary's lips: "Speak, Lord, your servant is listening."

Living Stones

Once again, the first reading and the Gospel share a powerful connection. This time, it's the Temple itself. Both stories take place at the Temple of Jerusalem (the one place on earth where sacrifice could be offered to God), and both begin with a situation of desecration, which would tell you that ultimately both passages are about the rededication or re-consecration of God's house. Whereas the Maccabees were able, in their time, to carry out their plans to the full, the Gospel just gives us part one: Jesus, in a prophetic gesture, drives the merchants out of the Temple precincts and teaches there. The consecrating sacrifice comes later, though it is hinted at in the plans of the "leaders of the people who were seeking to put him to death."
Why is the Temple so important?
In the Old Testament, as well as in the New (especially the letter to the Hebrews and the book of Revelation), the Temple is a replica of God's real dwelling, Heaven. This is what the Mass presumes, too. In the early Church not just the catechumens, but also people doing public penance (and anyone who was not able to receive Communion) were all dismissed after the homily. You were entering a consecrated zone (a kind of transcendent non-geographic place): If we didn't get that message before then, the Sanctus would tell us as much: "Holy, Holy, Holy!" Just another way of insisting that (in the words of the Eastern liturgy) the "holy gifts" are for "the holy (consecrated) people."

War and Peace

The first reading and the Gospel for today's Mass as Ordinary Time winds down are both about war. 1st Maccabees gives us the Jewish equivalent of the "shot heard 'round the world" as the patriarch Mattathias makes the first move against an oppressive regime. The Gospel is more somber. Jesus prophesies a dreadful defeat, describing the siege of Jerusalem with such terrible accuracy that some scholars are convinced that the Gospel of Luke "had to" have been written after the fact.

Perhaps both moments hinge on what Jesus called "recognizing the time of visitation." For Mattathias, that visitation was inscribed in the covenant. To betray the covenant, as the king's officers were enjoining him to do, would be tantamount to denying God's ever-present fidelity. Mattathias and those "who were zealous for the Law" took refuge in the mountains, "leaving all their possessions behind in the city." From now on, the Lord would be their only possession.

Of course, the ultimate "visitation" of God's fidelity is Jesus himself, the same Jesus who will come again in a final visitation, after which "God will be all in all."

Bubbling over (the Chicago Way)

So I had coffee yesterday with a sidewalk counselor who spends her Saturdays outside of Planned Parenthood. She filled me in on how the bubble zone ordinance got pushed, I mean, passed, through the City Council. It seems that when it was proposed in committee, only two members voted in favor of it. (Most of the members simply voted "present.") But it still went to the full Council, which passed it. The entire process was introduced and wrapped up in just six days.
Wouldn't you love to see your city take care of other issues that quickly?

And today I got an email about a set of twins whose lives were saved one Saturday on that corner of LaSalle and Division. They were born Sunday, premature and in need of a good month or two in the hospital. Prayers, please, for the little boys and their mother, who was preparing for them to be adopted.

bubble trouble

They are attractive young residents of Chicago's "Near North": attorneys and other professionals, who frequent a clinic in their neighborhood, but once there, they've found themselves photographed and videotaped. They've had cigarette butts flicked at them, been spit at, been approached and had their conversations monitored by grim, agenda-driven witnesses. One even suffered a karate-style chop in the side while attempting to exercise rights guaranteed by the laws of this country.

But the pro-lifers don't want a bubble zone to protect themselves from these forms of harassment.

They just want to be free to greet people in a warm and respectful way and provide information they may not otherwise have access to: information about fetal development and patient rights, yes, but also about LINK cards and housing assistance and fathers' rights. Right now, they can only attempt that if someone passes directly by; they cannot take a step or two forward to offer it: that's what the bubble zone means.

If this ordinance achieves its goal of making it harder for pro-life counselors to approach people in a civilized way, I was told by one of the sidewalk counselors, their next move will be “visual speech” in what is called a “Face the Truth” effort. To me, those horrifyingly grisly photos of tiny severed hands and legs and tortured little heads constitute a form of visual violence. But this sort of “carpet bombing” (with massive collateral damage) may be the unanticipated effect of stifling people's ability to freely communicate on the street. After a while, Planned Parenthood itself may beg City Hall to pop the bubble zone ordinance they themselves proposed.

This post was written for the Chicago Tribune's blog, The Seeker.

A Charitable Dilemma

It's interesting (and, I hope, providential) that I prepared this post on the feast of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, my Confirmation saint and patroness of Catholic Charities...

I don't think this ever happened, but it's not impossible.

Imagine a genteel southern city in the 1950's.
A local Christian association has a long history of works of “charity.” What started out as a simple soup kitchen run from a church basement has long since developed into an array of programs in education, child care, job training, health and provisions for the needy. Since these services spare the government the burden of creating and administering new structures, the city approved an annual grant for a number of programs (in effect, off-loading to the church group some of the social services the city would otherwise have had to provide directly). At a certain point, however, the city fathers (weren't they all “fathers” back then?) felt that the times called for certain measures to protect the fabric of society. In the name of propriety and good civic order, the city council passed a bill mandating agencies in any kind of contractual relationship with the city to maintain racially segregated offices for their employees. Although the bill's name gave a nod to “religious freedom,” it did not include an exemption for religious organizations and individuals whose rights and beliefs might be compromised by observance of the new requirement.
Following passage of the bill, the church association sorrowfully announced a reduction of hours and programs in their service arms. Conforming to the city's stipulations, the official statement said, would imply acceptance of racism as a principle. This was contrary to their identity as an organization. With segregated offices a condition of city funding, they could no longer qualify for the grant that had supported many of their good works.
Mystified by the group's intransigence over an issue so (seemingly) peripheral to health, education and poverty, the city fathers sputtered about religious narrow-mindedness and about silly “philosophical differences” that shouldn't enter into the discussion. In their pique, they even accused the organization of holding the city hostage to arcane theological doctrines.

No, this probably didn't happen. At least, not in those exact terms.
Instead of a genteel southern city, think of Washington, DC. The social services (physical and mental health care, legal care, immigration, employment, counseling, shelter, education, foster care and services for the developmentally disabled) are provided by Catholic Charities of the Archdiocese of Washington. The bill in question is the “Religious Freedom and Marriage Equality Amendment Act.” The stipulations of this gay marriage law bind any person or entity in a contractual relationship with the city. Failure to conform to all the requirements of the law leave one open to penalties and lawsuits. Despite its name, the bill includes only the narrowest provisions for religious freedom, limited to a short list of specific circumstances. Even the ACLU has weighed in to urge greater protection for religious freedom, in accord with federal law.

The Archdiocese of Washington is not a social service organization; it is a Church that expresses its identity in a vibrant way through its many social ministries. But that identity is a complete package: the “Catholic” in “Catholic Charities” means something! The District of Columbia is free to withhold funding for organizations whose character doesn't meet city criteria. People still need help. If Catholic Charities can no longer meet city criteria for contractual services, there is little that can be done other than regroup and try to find ways to do as much as possible with significantly fewer resources.

This post was originally written for the Chicago Tribune religion blog: http://newsblogs.chicagotribune.com/religion_theseeker/

For more information, please see the Archdiocese of Washington's news page: http://www.adw.org/news/News.asp?ID=702&Year=2009

Dark Days

We're starting to read from the first Book of Maccabees, a sure sign that "the end is near" for the Church year. The two books of Maccabees are among those books that you generally won't find in Protestant Bibles, but they are both valuable and interesting (Maccabees is where you look for some biblical justification for the doctrine of Purgatory, for instance, and for the story of the first Hanukkah.)
Today's first reading sets the stage for the whole Maccabean drama: the local king, Antiochus Epiphanes (Antiochus the Magnificent), known as Antiochus Epimanes (Antiochus the Madman) by his less appreciative subjects, decided to impose cultural uniformity upon his realm. No doubt, a uniform populace was easier to rule than a culturally diverse one. Since Antiochus, like other local rulers, was a descendant of Alexander the Great's officers, it was Greek culture that was to hold sway: Greek customs, Greek schooling, Greek gods took the place of local customs and religion.
It wasn't enough for Antiochus and his minions to impose merely external conformity to the new political correctness. The world's first religious persecution went to far as to outlaw observance of the Sabbath and to destroy religious books, desecrating Torah scrolls and condemning to death anyone who harbored the Scriptures. Antiochus even took over the Temple, installing a statue of Zeus (or would that be Jupiter? or even Baal, the "Lord of heaven"?) on the altar. It must have seemed like the end of the world.
In the Gospel, when speaking of the actual end of time, Jesus used the same language we find in this description of Antiochus' desecration of the Temple. We'll be hearing more of that dramatic language in the days to come.

Tomorrow will be the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. You know what that means: next week is Christ the King--and after that, ADVENT! So expect to begin hearing some real "end times" passages in the liturgy for these final weeks of the Church Year. We actually had a hint of that in today's readings: the first reading from Wisdom was a dramatic and poetic rendering of the Exodus. The lovely Advent hymn, "Lo how a rose e're blooming" takes inspiration from this passage. According to the book of Wisdom, it was "when half-spent was the night" that God's Word/Wisdom "leapt down from the royal throne" to the "doomed land," carrying out judgment on the enemies of God's people and beginning a new creation.
Doesn't it seem like whenever "end times" are spoken of, the focus is almost always on death and destruction, rather than on a new creation? Yet the book of Revelation, for all the war and horsemen and bowls of wrath it contains, is really about the dawn of a new heavens and new earth.
That's really something to look forward to this Advent!

Clothes and the Man

As coverage of the Ft. Hood shootings continues, I find myself wondering less about Major Hasan's religion than about his clothing.
Let me explain. As someone who has worn a religious habit for over 20 years, I have had to reflect a lot on what this specific uniform means in itself, for me, and for the people I encounter or meet. Within Catholic circles, my habit identifies me as a member of a community called the Daughters of St. Paul, a community with its own history, spirituality and field of work. On the streets of Chicago, my habit identifies me as a full-time “Church lady” (although that means different things to different people). For myself personally, the habit is a practical expression of simplicity of life and a daily reminder that my life, like that of Jesus, is to be at the service of others. That's a lot of meaning riding on one set of clothing!
But the media have presented Major Hasan in two distinctive uniforms: that of the U.S. Army, and the habit-like Middle-Eastern clothing he is seen wearing in a convenience store video. Each of those uniforms says something about the wearer's values, beliefs and relationships. I haven't heard otherwise, but, it's hard to imagine that Major Hasan wore Middle-Eastern styles growing up in southwestern Virginia. I was in Dearborn, Michigan last week; this city has the highest concentration of Muslims in the entire US, and while I saw many women in headscarves, I didn't see a single man in a flowing tunic.
Clothes don't make the man (nor the habit the monk), but knowing the circumstances under which this American military officer began to don the vestments of Middle-Eastern culture might help us better understand what was going on that day in Ft. Hood.

This post was originally written for the Chicago Tribune's Religion blog.

Wisdom's House

This week the first reading has been from the book of Wisdom, one of those "deuterocanonical" books that is not typically found in your Jewish or Protestant Scriptures. (It was originally written in Greek, automatically excluding it from the list under consideration by the rabbis after the fall of Jerusalem; the Protestant Reformers then followed the Jewish canon for the Old Testament of their Bibles.) Anyway, it's quite a fabulous book, with many sections that seem to be speaking almost directly of Christ, even though it was written 100 years before the Incarnation.
To me, today's reading includes one of those passages--although it could more easily be read as referring to the Holy Spirit. To say that Wisdom "is the refulgence of eternal light,
the spotless mirror of the power of God, the image of his goodness" certainly sounds a lot like the Letter to the Hebrews' description of Christ as "the refulgence of [God's] glory, the very imprint of his being, and who sustains all things by his mighty word."
There was another thing that struck me. "Naught that is sullied enters into her [Wisdom]." That sure sounds like what the book of Revelation says with regard to the Heavenly Bride of Christ. Living in this profound, supernatural wisdom is like an anticipation of heavenly life!

Speaking of heavenly life, today's saint is the Eastern bishop Josaphat (not to be confused with "jumpin' Jehosaphat," inspired by an Old Testament king). Josaphat is considered a martyr of Christian Unity. At Mass, the homilist pointed out that this needs to be one of our highest priorities as followers of Jesus. Our Lord said that it would be by the unity of his followers that he himself would be recognized by the world as the One sent by the Father. All we have to do for the evangelization of the world is be a united Church! Josaphat pursued that in his way, first by seeking communion with the Pope himself, and then promoting that communion, even though it certainly wasn't politically correct. That's why he died a martyr, after all! The image of him about to get a halberd to the head is from St. Josaphat's Basilica in Milwaukee. The monk-martyr-bishop was only about 43 at the time of his ultimate witness.

Chicago Tribune published my piece!

The Chicago Tribune published my guest post about embryo research and IVF!
Comments on the Trib site are welcome; your input could help the conversation go deeper.
I am especially concerned that comments from Catholics show pastoral concern for couples who are in this predicament, since all I did, really, was look at the predicament from an objective sort of stance. That's never enough when you're talking about people's actual lives.

From Pauline pens...

Sr Marie Paul's long-awaited book is out, a worthy successor, perhaps, to Sr. Kathryn's "depression" series.

Now I get it...

A few months ago, I was invited to join the Chicago Tribune's panel of guest religion bloggers. I got my superiors' permission to accept (you'll even find my picture and a brief bio on the Tribune site), but so far I haven't had anything published. The religion editor (who is also the religion writer) didn't quite explain the procedure. I thought I was supposed to make occasional contributions, and as the only Catholic on the list, I feel more than a little anxious lest my contributions be counterproductive! But I sent in something a few weeks ago (on the editor's suggestion) and then again this morning.
Finally, though, I get how this works.
The editor sends an email to all the bloggers, suggesting a particular news item that could use the various perspectives of the churches, synagogues and secular humanist fellowships. Then a variety of perspectives on that one (or some closely related) topic are offered on the religion blog.
Well, in one way that lets me off the hook. Most of the topics are so far out of my range of experience that I really have very little to offer. (That doesn't let me off the hood for finding something to offer by way of calling up Catholic leaders...something else I am realizing today.)
On the other hand, in so many things, the Catholic "take" comes from such a different worldview, that it very well could be that the things I would most be in a position to write about (today's topic, as posted below, for instance) would be the things that are least likely to be asked for--because just about everyone else is in agreement among themselves and with the culture.
At least I get how this works, now. And I can be on the lookout for those topics about which I am personally clueless--because if I'm going to be the Catholic voice on the Tribune, it's important that I get the Catholic perspective out there.
Pray for that, won't you?

Desperation and the Indefensible

Where is King Solomon when you need him? He once made a landmark ruling in a case involving parental rights (remember that one?), but the situation outlined on the front page of today's Chicago Tribune would have stymied even that famously wise king: When couples are so desperate for children that they resort to IVF, what is the "right thing" to do with embryos that they do not intend, ever, to bring to birth?

Just six days from now, the US Catholic bishops will be voting on a teaching document addressing the root reasons for questions like this: the astoundingly high infertility rate in the US. (No one seems to be asking if this is related to the profligate use of chemical contraceptives; does anyone really want to know?)

The bishops' draft document, entitled "Life-Giving Love in an Age of Technology," acknowledges the suffering many couples endure in discovering that they are unable to conceive as easily as they expected. Couples aren't going to be told to just "offer it up" (Catholic speak for "give up the whole idea in a spirit of worshipful submission"); in many cases, there are natural solutions that don't involve lives brought into existence in a Petri dish, but the challenges for Catholics are enormous.

When people are driven to defend the indefensible, there is generally something else at stake--something truly valuable, like the desire for children. This one value becomes such an overriding concern that every other value can be sacrificed or dismissed, and if there is any immorality involved, it is the sin of suggesting that one or another course of action may involve actual evil. In such an intimate and highly emotional setting, people who most need the objective guidance of moral teaching may be the least likely to accept it. In the case of infertility, cultural assumptions as well as a veritable "reproductive-industrial complex" (that includes embryonic research facilities) all but guarantee that couples will be left in the dark about effective alternative approaches to infertility (like NaPro, which is fully acceptable by Catholic moral standards). And then there is the ultimate, unanswerable rationale, "But this is what we want."

That deep "want" that becomes more than a desire or a felt need but a demand that must be met at all costs, leads to unspeakable consequences. I am still trying to wrap my head around the response of the mother who would prefer to give her children's unimplanted embryonic siblings over to experimentation rather than see them carried to term and brought up by another woman (although the Church doesn't recommend this, either). Her husband disagrees with her about experimentation, but he, too, uses the utilitarian language of "waste" and "opportunity." As much as this couple desired (for years!) to bring children into this world, and as much as they now want the best for the two who were born to them, what a disconnect there is with regard to the offspring that remain in their frozen world! Don't parents do what is best for their own children? Since when do abstract considerations outweigh the immediate good of human lives that are already present and "viable"? It was desperation that led to this seeming impasse: desperation and an inability to see things in a different light. And this is where the Catholic Church really does have something unique to offer.

Pope John Paul II called it the "Theology of the Body."

But that's for another post. (And another live streaming class this Saturday!)

US Bishops Press Release
NaPro Fertility Care
A mommy blog that touches on some of these issues
In the same issue of the Tribune: a beauty school where amazing fertility is the norm

This post is being submitted to the Chicago Tribune's religion blog, "The Seeker," since I have been invited to be an occasional guest blogger.

Iowa

Sr Barbara and I made yet another trip yesterday; this time, crossing the Mississippi flood plains of Iowa, to join in a memorial Mass held in Green River (pop. 36). Mass was held in a tiny chapel that had been deconsecrated, but was bought by a Chicago Catholic who was doing his best to make it a place of devotion. At the Sign of Peace, an elderly woman came in, amazed to see a service in progress. Turns out that Alice (81) had been a parishioner here all her life and was married in the little church on a rainy day 61 years ago. It meant so much for her to see it again from the inside, and to know that it would be used once more, even if only on again/off again. She was even more moved when we told her that the priest had suggested, as Mass began, that we pray for all those who had worshiped there through the years.
Later, we gathered for a lunch of "maderights" (the local name for a kind of sweet sloppy Joe) at a saloon/music hall, of all places. Kevin, the proprietor, showed us around this former barn. The upstairs has a stage modeled on the Grand Ole Opry, and has hosted some pretty famous names in country music. (This is country country.)
I think that's all the traveling I will have to do until...the day after Thanksgiving, when we begin our Great Christmas Concert Road Trip. Meanwhile, "miles to go" before that happens. We have our community meeting on Thursday, Theology of the Body class on Saturday and my Mom and sister Jane coming Saturday evening for Jane's well-deserved vacation. (Hope the weather doesn't scare her away!)

Just a little thought for today's feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran... Just to clarify: there is no "Saint John Lateran." There is a Church on property in Rome formerly owned by the Lateran family. (That's Jane standing at the entrance during the World Youth Day celebrations in the Jubilee Year.)
The "St. John" in question is...two of them: John the Baptist and John the Evangelist. The Lateran Basilica is one of the four "patriarchal basilicas" in Rome; the anniversary of the dedication of each one of these important churches is marked with a feast day. Today's is a solemnity (the highest level of feast there is) because the Lateran Basilica is actually the cathedral of Rome. A marble inscription at the entrance reads: Head and Mother of all the Churches. So you could say that today's celebration is a kind of second feast of the "Chair of St. Peter" ("kathedra" means chair, as used even now in the world of academia).

Paul's circle

Our founder was deeply impressed with an aspect of St. Paul that seems to bypass the rest of us. Paul was a great networker! Far from being self-reliant (that wouldn't even square with his cultural upbringing), Paul knew how to work with others, and on his missionary journeys (which he never undertook alone), Paul looked for more people he could team up with. Nowhere is that more evident than in the conclusion of the letter to the Romans, where Paul names one person after another (28 in all!). Considering the size of the Christian community in Rome, Paul must have known close to 10 or 15% of them in person. But Paul does more than list them in a perfunctory way at the end of his letter. He gives each one a kind of extended "title" of recognition, highlighting some dimension of their Christian service. The most effusive recognition goes to two married couples: above all, Prisca and Aquila "my co-workers in Christ Jesus, who risked their necks for my life, to whom not only I am grateful but also all the churches of the Gentiles."
This dynamic duo of the New Testament deserve a lot more attention than they have historically been given. That's not Paul's fault: he refers to them repeatedly in his letters, as Luke does in the Acts of the Apostles. Perhaps it was because Prisca, the wife, is almost always mentioned first, so Paul's advance team for the Gospel didn't fit into the usual categories.
It's time to rescue Prisca and Aquila from oblivion and make them the patrons of the lay apostolate!

Taking Dictation

Today's first reading includes one of the few "third party" remarks in all of Sacred Scripture. I mean a place where someone other than the "official" inspired human author shows up in his own right. There are some places in the Old Testament where this happens--Jeremiah's secretary, Baruch, is one of those--of course, he is also presumed to be the author of the prophetic book that bears his name, so maybe Baruch doesn't count. Then there is the grandson of Jesus ben Sirach, who translated and wrote an introduction to his grandfather's work, the book of Sirach (also called "Ecclesiasticus"). The introduction, even though it is in our Bible, is not recognized as inspired Scripture! And then there's Paul's scribe, Tertius, who took Paul's dictation for the letter to the Romans. (What a job!) Paul is almost always depicted holding his own pen, but today's reading sets us straight.
Reading the conclusion of Romans with its evidence of Paul's dictation reminded me of how my Dad (whose 3rd anniversary is tomorrow) would use a dictaphone or tape recorder to dictate letters and documents for his legal practice. At a certain point, he would cease narrating clauses, turn the radio on, and say, "And now, for a musical interlude..." (I don't know what his secretary did with that "interlude"; maybe it gave her a chance to keep up with my Dad's prodigious output!
Tertius' little greeting is a font of information for scholars. First of all, it proves that Paul didn't do his own handwriting (which we gather from Galatians). From Tertius we see that prominent locals hosted the whole Church, and that some of these people, like "Erastus, the city treasurer," were very prominent indeed. Actually, that reference to Erastus is important for more than one reason. Archaeologists have found an inscription in the ruins of Corinth which identify "Erastus, the city treasurer" of Corinth as the financier behind the paving of the public square. Given that the letter to the Romans is presumed to have been written from Corinth, it is tantalizing to think that this stone is a physical link to Paul.
Tertius' name even tells us something about himself! It was Roman custom for a first-born son to receive his father's name in the three-fold Romans form: praenomen (first name), nomen (clan) and cognomen (specific family within the clan). For instance, Gaius Julius Caesar. Any further sons, however, did not receive a special praenomen. They were just named in numerical order: Secundus, Tertius, Quartus, Quintus. So we know from his name that the helpful and literate Tertius of Corinth was the third son of a Roman family. Was the "Quartus" whose greetings he so graciously delivers his own younger brother, or some other fourth-born son?

Motor City Experiences

I've spent an amazing amount of time in Detroit over the past 9 days. Last week, Sr Barbara and I ran a book display for the "Michigan Association of Non-Public Schools" convention where we were the smiling faces at booth 417. We stayed with our Pauline brothers in Dearborn. After an early Mass, Sr Barbara and I caught a glimpse of the local paper. Headlining it was the story of the killing by the FBI of a radical Islamist...in Dearborn. Then, at supper, we were guests, along with our St. Paul brothers, of a lovely couple who live in one of Dearborn's tonier neighborhoods. Their experience of their mostly Muslim neighbors (in the "tony" neighborhood, as well as in our brothers' neighborhood) is quite different. The children in the area call the retired couple Grandma and Grandpa, and when one of the neighboring couples needed a weekend to themselves, the kids weren't parceled out to extended family; they spent the night with their Catholic grandma and grandpa. The husband told of a father bringing his two young sons to the local parish to deliver their post-Ramadan offering of charity. The boys had saved their pennies to give... half to the mosque and half to the Church. Brother Al told us that when a baby is born to a Muslim family, the house is decorated with tiny white Christmas lights. (I imagine that Christmas decorations make quite an appropriate impression!) If any progress is going to be made with regard to mutual respect between cultures in US, it's probably going to happen in Dearborn.

We returned to Chicago for the weekend, and then Sr Helena and I took to the highway again, this time to give workshops for the youth ministers of the Archdiocese of Detroit. Our first workshop was at St. James parish. Sr Helena (former resident of Toronto) was thrilled to see a Tim Horton's across the street. Sadly, we didn't have a chance to sample the offerings. (The local DRE told us that Canadians say it just isn't the same quality as in the homeland.) Rather than stay in Dearborn, we were given hospitality at Sacred Heart Seminary, where our main presentation would be held. (Sr Helena kept scanning the parking lot for Janet Smith's car; she was hoping we would run into her--figuratively speaking.)

The seminary is an impressive structure--one of those classic red-brick Gothic institutions from the early 20th century. The ceramic shower apparatus was so interestingly antique I took a picture of it! (Note the patent date: Dec 22, 1915.) Unfortunately, we didn't get to see the chapel, which is still being renovated after a fire in February. (Mass was held in the "chape-torium.")

More impressive than the seminary is the neighborhood around it. Guided by Mapquest and "Flo" (the female voice of our brand-new GPS), we drove past block after blighted block. Once beautiful, big homes with bay windows and welcoming porches were boarded up or burned out. In between, some homes were still occupied, and on the sidewalks children were coming home to them from school while men criss-crossed the streets in the loping stride of people who have nowhere to go. Apartment buildings, real architectural beauties (not bland cracker-boxes), stood there with shattered windows; roofs were collapsing through the empty floors. I felt as though we were driving past some of the hardest-hit parts of New Orleans, only this wasn't the result of a hurricane.

Our Thursday workshop was well-attended. One participant Twittered from the room, but we were pretty limited in online access. Between firewalls and bandwidth issues, we couldn't do all we wanted to, so (oddly) we resorted to talking about social media instead of demonstrating it. (Thank goodness for PowerPoint!) We hope to offer the same sort of workshop (only with real-time online access) to other groups. On the way home, we stopped in Dearborn to have supper with our brothers of the Society of St. Paul.

Brother Al (an energetic 81) and Father Arthur welcomed us. As Brother Al prepared the table, he started talking about our Founder, whom he knew very well. (Brother Al was the first Pauline brother to be elected to the General Council of the order, while the Founder was still alive.) When I realized what was happening, I pulled out my camera and changed it to the video setting. I missed a lot of the good stuff, but below is a clip of insight from Brother Al. We are hoping that Brother Al and Father Arthur will join us here in Chicago for Thanksgiving, which coincides with our Founder's feast day. (Pray!)

I've spent an amazing amount of time in Detroit over the past 9 days. Last week, Sr Barbara and I ran a book display for the "Michigan Association of Non-Public Schools" convention where we were the smiling faces at booth 417. We stayed with our Pauline brothers in Dearborn. After an early Mass, Sr Barbara and I caught a glimpse of the local paper. Headlining it was the story of the killing by the FBI of a radical Islamist...in Dearborn. Then, at supper, we were guests, along with our St. Paul brothers, of a lovely couple who live in one of Dearborn's tonier neighborhoods. Their experience of their mostly Muslim neighbors (in the "tony" neighborhood, as well as in our brothers' neighborhood) is quite different. The children in the area call the retired couple Grandma and Grandpa, and when one of the neighboring couples needed a weekend to themselves, the kids weren't parceled out to extended family; they spent the night with their Catholic grandma and grandpa. The husband told of a father bringing his two young sons to the local parish to deliver their post-Ramadan offering of charity. The boys had saved their pennies to give... half to the mosque and half to the Church. Brother Al told us that when a baby is born to a Muslim family, the house is decorated with tiny white Christmas lights. (I imagine that Christmas decorations make quite an appropriate impression!) If any progress is going to be made with regard to mutual respect between cultures in US, it's probably going to happen in Dearborn.

We returned to Chicago for the weekend, and then Sr Helena and I took to the highway again, this time to give workshops for the youth ministers of the Archdiocese of Detroit. Our first workshop was at St. James parish. Sr Helena (former resident of Toronto) was thrilled to see a Tim Horton's across the street. Sadly, we didn't have a chance to sample the offerings. (The local DRE told us that Canadians say it just isn't the same quality as in the homeland.) Rather than stay in Dearborn, we were given hospitality at Sacred Heart Seminary, where our main presentation would be held. (Sr Helena kept scanning the parking lot for Janet Smith's car; she was hoping we would run into her--figuratively speaking.)

The seminary is an impressive structure--one of those classic red-brick Gothic institutions from the early 20th century. The ceramic shower apparatus was so interestingly antique I took a picture of it! (Note the patent date: Dec 22, 1915.) Unfortunately, we didn't get to see the chapel, which is still being renovated after a fire in February. (Mass was held in the "chape-torium.")

More impressive than the seminary is the neighborhood around it. Guided by Mapquest and "Flo" (the female voice of our brand-new GPS), we drove past block after blighted block. Once beautiful, big homes with bay windows and welcoming porches were boarded up or burned out. In between, some homes were still occupied, and on the sidewalks children were coming home to them from school while men criss-crossed the streets in the loping stride of people who have nowhere to go. Apartment buildings, real architectural beauties (not bland cracker-boxes), stood there with shattered windows; roofs were collapsing through the empty floors. I felt as though we were driving past some of the hardest-hit parts of New Orleans, only this wasn't the result of a hurricane.

Our Thursday workshop was well-attended. One participant Twittered from the room, but we were pretty limited in online access. Between firewalls and bandwidth issues, we couldn't do all we wanted to, so (oddly) we resorted to talking about social media instead of demonstrating it. (Thank goodness for PowerPoint!) We hope to offer the same sort of workshop (only with real-time online access) to other groups. On the way home, we stopped in Dearborn to have supper with our brothers of the Society of St. Paul. Brother Al (an energetic 81) and Father Arthur welcomed us. As Brother Al prepared the table, he started talking about our Founder, whom he knew very well. (Brother Al was the first Pauline brother to be elected to the General Council of the order, while the Founder was still alive.) When I realized what was happening, I pulled out my camera and changed it to the video setting. I missed a lot of the good stuff, but below is a clip of insight from Brother Al. We are hoping that Brother Al and Father Arthur will join us here in Chicago for Thanksgiving, which coincides with our Founder's feast day. (Pray!)

Michelle and Pete the the knot today! Pray for an abundance of grace for their life together.

Wars of Religion?

Still thinking about those atheists and their advertising campaign. Still shaking my head over their insistence that they are "good"! That (and their claiming the mantle of "reason") makes the whole message seem so very arrogant.
In many ways, the "god" they do not believe in is a god I do not believe in, either. It's a human being writ large, not so different from the Olympians; as if the mythic language of some of the Scriptures were taken to be the bald facts.
Fact is, the only real image we have of God is Jesus. (Wasn't it Augustine who said, "If you can understand, it is not God"?) It all comes down to Jesus, the "image of the invisible God."
That doesn't mean that faith in God revealed in Jesus is a given. Well, it is a given, in that it is only a gift. We can't convince ourselves into believing (though faith is an act of will); it has to be given to us. And not every dear soul we meet or associate with will have been given that gift of an explicit faith in God. Maybe that's how it is supposed to be. Maybe we really are supposed to be the Jesus they meet.

Today's saint exemplifies all three of the Scriptures in the Liturgy of the Word for the regular weekday Mass. St. Martin de Porres exercised the gifts he was given in the Body of Christ, even to the point of working miracles. He "busied not himself with 'great' things," the way the "invited guests" in the Gospel parable did. They were too busy with their farms and investments and personal lives to go sit at the King's table and just enjoy the bounty. Not Martin. This somewhat marginalized Dominican brother was one of those servants who went "out into the streets and hedgerows" and invited "the poor and the crippled, the blind and the lame" (and, most famously, cats and dogs and mice) to the King's banquet.

Good to Go?

Running errands downtown the other day, I came upon one of those proselytizing billboards. Proselytizing, but not in the usual way. The sign asked, "Good without God?" It was sponsored by the "Chicago Coalition of Reason."
I have to say that the billboard got me thinking, although not in the vein that the question was surely intended to. Instead I was wondering, "Where is Flannery O'Connor when we need her?" She would have found the perfect way to highlight the short-sightedness of the self-evaluation implied in the billboard copy (as well as the image of God and religion).
The humanists behind the billboard are trying to overcome the negative stereotypes of atheism--but relying on a stereotype of religion worthy of Miss O'Connor herself: the image of religion that sees itself as the exclusive arena for all things "true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy" (Phil. 4:8) and condemns or dismisses any such quality that might be found outside of the visible confines of the fold.
Not that the members of the "Coalition of Reason" aren't truly upright, fine people by every typical measure. St. Paul (Rom. 2: 13-15) himself wrote about people who, without the Torah, live by a Torah in their hearts. But uprightness apart from "religion" does not disprove the existence and praiseworthiness of transcendent Goodness.
And ultimately, that is what "religion" is all about: the love and praise of the source of all Good, by whom we can even have some inkling of the good in the first place.