A year and a half ago, I recorded a portion of a discernment retreat talk given by Sr Helena and Sr Margaret Michael. Finally I was able to edit the footage from the two cameras into one! It's not totally what I was hoping to do, but it is something, and could be helpful for those who are intensifying their discernment during Lent. On Monday I will try to post it on Facebook, etc.
Meanwhile, feel free to send discerners over: it's an inspiring presentation and full of practical advice.
(Give it time to process fully on ustream, and pray for all the people at ustream.tv who make this service possible!)
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Hard to Swallow
Today's first reading registers the protest upstanding citizens feel when losers seem to get away with something. Only in this case, the upstanding are the religiously observant and the "losers" are people who used to be negligent, but who have repented and turned away from sin. Something in us wants people to be saddled with that scarlet letter to eternity and beyond, just as a sign that once upon a time they were not in such good graces.
The Gospel, on first glance, doesn't seem to match that reading at all. It is Jesus' exhortation from the Sermon on the Mount that enmities be resolved before people attempt to offer a sacrifice to the Lord. Those enmities can be anywhere between anger and contemptuous dismissal; whatever the cause, whatever the kind, it invalidates worship. No matter how rich the sacrifice you bring to the altar, your "debt" remains, to be exacted "to the last penny."
As if the liturgy of the day didn't give me enough to reflect on, I am attempting to turn in the last of my batch of "Grace" assignments: the passage I have left is also from the Sermon on the Mount, just a few verses after today's Gospel. It is the part about loving your enemies. Jesus is only warming up to that in today's passage! But if God "loves his enemies" by accepting their sincere repentance, he is only asking us to do the same. Today, it's the "brother" who sins against us (or holds our sin against us); tomorrow, it is our outright enemy. Paul hints that "if, while we were sinners, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son" how can we withhold reconciliation from one another?
A real Lenten (and lifetime) challenge!
The Gospel, on first glance, doesn't seem to match that reading at all. It is Jesus' exhortation from the Sermon on the Mount that enmities be resolved before people attempt to offer a sacrifice to the Lord. Those enmities can be anywhere between anger and contemptuous dismissal; whatever the cause, whatever the kind, it invalidates worship. No matter how rich the sacrifice you bring to the altar, your "debt" remains, to be exacted "to the last penny."
As if the liturgy of the day didn't give me enough to reflect on, I am attempting to turn in the last of my batch of "Grace" assignments: the passage I have left is also from the Sermon on the Mount, just a few verses after today's Gospel. It is the part about loving your enemies. Jesus is only warming up to that in today's passage! But if God "loves his enemies" by accepting their sincere repentance, he is only asking us to do the same. Today, it's the "brother" who sins against us (or holds our sin against us); tomorrow, it is our outright enemy. Paul hints that "if, while we were sinners, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son" how can we withhold reconciliation from one another?
A real Lenten (and lifetime) challenge!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
when I say "Jump"!
My first talk at Mt Carmel brought in what the pastor called "the biggest crowd ever" for such an event at the parish, a sign that many, many people want to really know more about the Mass, so they can make the most of their Sunday. Last night I just talked about the "sign language" in the liturgy, which is made up of syllables (drawn from creation), gestures and grammar (the way the liturgy thinks of time, for example). And then there is the predictability of the liturgy. We don't have to make it up fresh every Sunday; instead, all of us know pretty much "what's coming next" and that primes our hearts to respond more fully than we would on the spur of the moment, and to respond together, not just vocally but with all our being.
Really, ritual is your friend.
I remember when I was little, I loved to play jump rope. Not to just "jump rope" by myself, although that could be fun, too. I mean, play jump rope with others. It was a real advantage here to have two sisters close in age: that meant we always had the necessary quorum to provide two rope-turners and one jumper. Not that I was a very good jump-roper. I had to stand there for quite a few turns of the rope, trying to get the pulse into my body so that I could keep up. The predictability of that rope slapping the sidewalk was the condition for my interacting with it!
In the liturgy, the predictability actually helps us pray better, although if you really don't know what's going on, you could be like the woman who met me in the vestibule of St. Peter's the other evening, complaining that in the Catholic Church, "it's always the same thing, over and over" and she didn't get anything out of it. She seemed completely unaware that the Mass includes not one, not two, but three Scripture readings (not to mention the Psalm), and complained that Catholics don't use the Bible. I'm afraid the poor woman had never learned to enter into that "other" world the liturgy means to take us into: a world where the usual conditions of space and time don't apply. Liturgy is essentially contemplative, but she was hoping to find in liturgy the kind of "satisfaction" (that's the word she used) that personal prayer can often bring (at least in the first stages of the spiritual life). When we pray together, it's "no longer we" who give thanks and praise to God, but "Christ living in us" "to the glory of God the Father." But if we don't really have a personal prayer life, we are bound not to "get anything" out of liturgical prayer; it's like trying to converse in a language you never learned!
Really, ritual is your friend.
I remember when I was little, I loved to play jump rope. Not to just "jump rope" by myself, although that could be fun, too. I mean, play jump rope with others. It was a real advantage here to have two sisters close in age: that meant we always had the necessary quorum to provide two rope-turners and one jumper. Not that I was a very good jump-roper. I had to stand there for quite a few turns of the rope, trying to get the pulse into my body so that I could keep up. The predictability of that rope slapping the sidewalk was the condition for my interacting with it!
In the liturgy, the predictability actually helps us pray better, although if you really don't know what's going on, you could be like the woman who met me in the vestibule of St. Peter's the other evening, complaining that in the Catholic Church, "it's always the same thing, over and over" and she didn't get anything out of it. She seemed completely unaware that the Mass includes not one, not two, but three Scripture readings (not to mention the Psalm), and complained that Catholics don't use the Bible. I'm afraid the poor woman had never learned to enter into that "other" world the liturgy means to take us into: a world where the usual conditions of space and time don't apply. Liturgy is essentially contemplative, but she was hoping to find in liturgy the kind of "satisfaction" (that's the word she used) that personal prayer can often bring (at least in the first stages of the spiritual life). When we pray together, it's "no longer we" who give thanks and praise to God, but "Christ living in us" "to the glory of God the Father." But if we don't really have a personal prayer life, we are bound not to "get anything" out of liturgical prayer; it's like trying to converse in a language you never learned!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
The Tribune posted my reflection on the full-body scanners that are coming soon to an airport near... me. I see it as an unreasonable search without a warrant when done randomly or (God forbid) to one and all.
I do feel frustrated that the first comment on the Trib site was about the sex abuse scandal. Sin will always go the full way as sin, which is just what happened. A brilliant move on the part of the enemy of humankind.
What do you think?
I do feel frustrated that the first comment on the Trib site was about the sex abuse scandal. Sin will always go the full way as sin, which is just what happened. A brilliant move on the part of the enemy of humankind.
What do you think?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Special Request
I'm pulling the first of my talks for Mt Carmel into its more or less polished form--that will be one down, three to go. But I need some stories to liven the presentation up a bit. Otherwise, it risks being extremely content-heavy, without any relief. I am looking for stories of people's real-life experiences at Mass. They can be profound or funny; misperceptions, kids' reactions, things like that, but also life-changing realizations about the Word of God, the sacrifices we offer in union with Jesus, the way daily prayer and Mass connect, particularly meaningful Holy Communions...
Got anything to share? Put it here in the comments and send it on to me by e-mail, too: romans8v29 is my gmail address. Use the subject line: MASS.
I'll be looking forward to your stories! Thanks!
Got anything to share? Put it here in the comments and send it on to me by e-mail, too: romans8v29 is my gmail address. Use the subject line: MASS.
I'll be looking forward to your stories! Thanks!
Monday, February 22, 2010
Grace in Abundance
Lately I have been involved in several projects that make me really glad I have been keeping up with the liturgical reflections on this blog. Today I just turned in the latest "installment" toward my full assignment for a new book of seasonal meditations. The first book was "Lenten Grace," to which I contributed a measly two meditations (all I had time for!). Then came "Advent Grace" (two more meditations; it's a short season). Last month I met my deadline for the upcoming volume "Easter Grace" and today I sent in the third of ten installments for a two-volume edition of "Everyday Grace." I have combed my previous blog posts for anything at all that reflects the liturgical readings, and for the most part, I have at least found a little something to work with: a real grace, as far as I'm concerned!
Want to know the best part?
The editor of the project is Sister Grace.
Want to know the best part?
The editor of the project is Sister Grace.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Sacramentality
One of the things about Lent that I think attracts people is its symbolic power. Nothing at all changes from Mardi Gras to Ash Wednesday, but the season of Lent seems to take hold of that first day and stake a claim to the next 40 days. It's the one day a year that people (at least in Chicago!) walk around confessing their faith: "Yep, I'm one of those." And I suspect that even those who barely darken a Church door most Sundays feel the tug and try to "do something for Lent." That slight dusting of ashes has an amazing power over us!
Come to think of it, this is only one example of what can only be called the "embodied spirituality" of Catholicism. Not that we're the only ones with it: the Jewish traditions are powerfully sacramental, in that "the visible reveals the invisible" sense. (In reading the novels of Chaim Potok some years back, I was really struck with how "familiar" the Hassidic mentality is to Catholicism: it's sacramental!)
The Theology of the Body is the most all-embracing (pardon the pun!) expression of the Church's sacramental world view, but that same sense of the "embodied sacred" is also why Catholics say grace before meals, wear medals and scapulars and bless themselves with holy water (or candles, on St. Blaise's feast day) and pray the Morning Offering (which offers the day's most ordinary "prayers, actions, joys and sufferings" right alongside the offering of the Eucharist).
It's not just the sacraments that are sacramental! Catholic life fully lived is fully sacramental: a visible expression and presence of the living, risen Lord Jesus, all in the "sign language" of the body.
Come to think of it, this is only one example of what can only be called the "embodied spirituality" of Catholicism. Not that we're the only ones with it: the Jewish traditions are powerfully sacramental, in that "the visible reveals the invisible" sense. (In reading the novels of Chaim Potok some years back, I was really struck with how "familiar" the Hassidic mentality is to Catholicism: it's sacramental!)
The Theology of the Body is the most all-embracing (pardon the pun!) expression of the Church's sacramental world view, but that same sense of the "embodied sacred" is also why Catholics say grace before meals, wear medals and scapulars and bless themselves with holy water (or candles, on St. Blaise's feast day) and pray the Morning Offering (which offers the day's most ordinary "prayers, actions, joys and sufferings" right alongside the offering of the Eucharist).
It's not just the sacraments that are sacramental! Catholic life fully lived is fully sacramental: a visible expression and presence of the living, risen Lord Jesus, all in the "sign language" of the body.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Not so "fast"!
Even though today is not, technically speaking, a day of obligatory fasting for Catholics (the "meatless" part is obligatory), the readings for Mass are all about fasting. But what God considers fasting, and what we construe it to be turn out to be pretty different concepts. The Gospel is rather sparing: we just see some people from John the Baptist's "school" wonder out loud why Jesus' disciples are (to say the least) not noteworthy for their ascetical practices. Jesus says, in effect, "Oh, they will be someday. Just not today." Not while he, the Bridegroom, is with them.
So we have a context for fasting, and it has to do with the presence or absence of Jesus as Bridegroom.
Isaiah, on the other hand, imagines God calling for a real fast, and he wants it, well, fast. Not fasting in the sense of starving yourself in a feet of asceticism for its own sake, but a form of self-deprivation that lets you really feel the pain of those who have no option but to fast every day: the desperately poor, those who are in chains or oppressed or homeless. And God says this kind of fasting can't happen too soon: "Would that today [there's that word again] you might fast so as to make your voice heard on high!"
What's the connection? It's Jesus again (as always!). He assures us that when we practice those works of mercy, when we "release those bound unjustly, untie the yoke, set the oppressed free, share bread with the hungry and clothe the naked and shelter the homeless, "you did it for me."
So we have a context for fasting, and it has to do with the presence or absence of Jesus as Bridegroom.
Isaiah, on the other hand, imagines God calling for a real fast, and he wants it, well, fast. Not fasting in the sense of starving yourself in a feet of asceticism for its own sake, but a form of self-deprivation that lets you really feel the pain of those who have no option but to fast every day: the desperately poor, those who are in chains or oppressed or homeless. And God says this kind of fasting can't happen too soon: "Would that today [there's that word again] you might fast so as to make your voice heard on high!"
What's the connection? It's Jesus again (as always!). He assures us that when we practice those works of mercy, when we "release those bound unjustly, untie the yoke, set the oppressed free, share bread with the hungry and clothe the naked and shelter the homeless, "you did it for me."
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Today's mystery
For some reason, this morning I was struck by the way the Liturgy uses the word "today." And then that very word turned up not once, not twice, but three times in the first reading! Talk about a confirmation that this is an avenue for me to pursue...
It's always today, of course. But in the Liturgy, no matter what mystery of salvation we are celebrating, it happened "today," as if there were really only one day, and that is "today." You find that especially in the Preface (that prayer of praise that we sum up in our "Holy, Holy, Holy!"), but on really big feast days, it is inserted in Eucharistic Prayer I. The Opening Prayer presumes that same "today" and the closing prayer sends us out on mission in the spirit of that unique grace. The closing prayer usually also has more than a hint of the world to come--the ultimate "today" win which all time is condensed into the present.
So our Lenten theme really carries a lot of power: "If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts!" Because it really is today.
It's always today, of course. But in the Liturgy, no matter what mystery of salvation we are celebrating, it happened "today," as if there were really only one day, and that is "today." You find that especially in the Preface (that prayer of praise that we sum up in our "Holy, Holy, Holy!"), but on really big feast days, it is inserted in Eucharistic Prayer I. The Opening Prayer presumes that same "today" and the closing prayer sends us out on mission in the spirit of that unique grace. The closing prayer usually also has more than a hint of the world to come--the ultimate "today" win which all time is condensed into the present.
So our Lenten theme really carries a lot of power: "If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts!" Because it really is today.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The Great Silence
One of the more typical Lenten practices (in terms of the "prayer" dimension of the traditional triad of observances) is an increased recollection, usually sought through forms of silence. For some people, this means being more alert about occasions of gossip, and pulling back from conversations moving in that direction. This year, I am noticing a new form of Lenten recollection: people are giving up Twitter for Lent. (There may be a few hardy souls who are going cold turkey on all forms of social networking, but so far I haven't seen any notices about people giving up Facebook!) If my mission didn't involve these forms of communication, I would probably give this greater consideration... although I certainly could moderate my interactions a bit more!
Do you have a particular Lenten form of recollection that you try to practice? What is it?
Do you have a particular Lenten form of recollection that you try to practice? What is it?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Out of the Ordinary
Today we take leave of Ordinary Time. It won't be back until May 24, the day after Pentecost. Instead, when we wake, it will already be time to prepare our minds and hearts for Easter, the centerpiece and hinge of the Church year.
Today's Mass readings are just right for equipping us for Lent. Both of them go to the heart of the dispositions that compromise our life in God, revealing our vulnerability to something that seems insignificant, innocuous, tiny: a desire in the heart; an interior attitude or judgment in the mind... Without discernment (sifting to "hold fast to what is good; avoid what is evil"), these can expand, conforming the whole self interiorly to an unacknowledged, unrecognized but very real falsehood, until the person cannot conceive of life in any other way.
There's certainly enough of that going around for all of us to be very, very attentive! Our culture is full of the "leaven of the Pharisees and of Herod." So many of today's "givens" lead to conclusions that contradict the whole truth about what it means to be made in the image of God, and yet we can hardly avoid breathing these assumptions in. Lent offers us the opportunity to pull back, to practice not just a bodily austerity but even interior self-discipline--something like the housecleaning observant Jewish families do before Passover, turning over every seat cushion, pulling every bit of furniture out of its usual spot in order to clear away every molecule of "chametz" (leaven).
As St. Paul said, "Be transformed by the renewal of your minds!" That's the real goal of Lent!
Today's Mass readings are just right for equipping us for Lent. Both of them go to the heart of the dispositions that compromise our life in God, revealing our vulnerability to something that seems insignificant, innocuous, tiny: a desire in the heart; an interior attitude or judgment in the mind... Without discernment (sifting to "hold fast to what is good; avoid what is evil"), these can expand, conforming the whole self interiorly to an unacknowledged, unrecognized but very real falsehood, until the person cannot conceive of life in any other way.
There's certainly enough of that going around for all of us to be very, very attentive! Our culture is full of the "leaven of the Pharisees and of Herod." So many of today's "givens" lead to conclusions that contradict the whole truth about what it means to be made in the image of God, and yet we can hardly avoid breathing these assumptions in. Lent offers us the opportunity to pull back, to practice not just a bodily austerity but even interior self-discipline--something like the housecleaning observant Jewish families do before Passover, turning over every seat cushion, pulling every bit of furniture out of its usual spot in order to clear away every molecule of "chametz" (leaven).
As St. Paul said, "Be transformed by the renewal of your minds!" That's the real goal of Lent!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Speed zone ahead
Did you notice how very suitable yesterday's Mass readings were as a "heads up" for Lent? Kind of like those traffic signals that give you advance warning about changed road conditions further up.
Jeremiah and Jesus both observed that prosperity and indulgence create zones of high risk when it comes to spiritual well-being. Why? Are wealth and enjoyment that bad? The answer to that comes in a special way from Jeremiah, who hints that the person with more than enough tends to look at that stuff as if it were the foundation of life. Jesus adds, then, that the poor, the hungry, the sorrowing have it right: they know that this earth does not provide everything we need.
Wednesday, the Church invites us to make that experience concrete. Even the mitigated fast the Church requires of us (so measly, compared to the fasting required of Jews and Muslims, it is embarrassing)--even that tiny bit of fasting is meant to tease us into a renewed recognition of our human limitation, and the open invitation from God to root ourselves, like a tree beside a stream, in his unfailing grace.
So, what are you doing for Lent?
Jeremiah and Jesus both observed that prosperity and indulgence create zones of high risk when it comes to spiritual well-being. Why? Are wealth and enjoyment that bad? The answer to that comes in a special way from Jeremiah, who hints that the person with more than enough tends to look at that stuff as if it were the foundation of life. Jesus adds, then, that the poor, the hungry, the sorrowing have it right: they know that this earth does not provide everything we need.
Wednesday, the Church invites us to make that experience concrete. Even the mitigated fast the Church requires of us (so measly, compared to the fasting required of Jews and Muslims, it is embarrassing)--even that tiny bit of fasting is meant to tease us into a renewed recognition of our human limitation, and the open invitation from God to root ourselves, like a tree beside a stream, in his unfailing grace.
So, what are you doing for Lent?
Friday, February 12, 2010
Dang.
Our bookstore got some great new books in stock this week, just in time for Lent.So why the "Dang"? Because one of them has the subtitle I had been planning to use myself! Since it is on the same topic I have been (still am) planning to write about (the subtitle is the topic), I'm quite interested in it, and from a quick flip through the pages, In the Presence: The Spirituality of Eucharistic Adoration
looks like a book I could wholeheartedly recommend. Even with my subtitle.
looks like a book I could wholeheartedly recommend. Even with my subtitle.
Listen up!
Did you notice that today's Responsorial Psalm, which is our "answer" to the First Reading, is the perfect match for the Gospel? The Psalm is one of those courtroom scenes, in which God is testifying and pleading at the same time: O my people, if only you would listen to my voice! And in the Gospel, some people bring a deaf person to Jesus. Jesus heals him with a touch and a command: "Be opened!"
The thing is, ears don't have lids, like eyes. We can tell someone "Open your eyes" and it makes sense both literally and figuratively. But "open your ears" sounds suspiciously like "O my people, if only you would listen to my voice!" It is as if we were holding our hands tight over our ears, shouting at the top of our voice, "La-La-La, I can't hear you!" (Of course, while we're shouting like that, we can't exactly communicate much of value to anyone, either.) So Jesus touches us and says, "Be opened!"
May we all receive something of that touch today.
The thing is, ears don't have lids, like eyes. We can tell someone "Open your eyes" and it makes sense both literally and figuratively. But "open your ears" sounds suspiciously like "O my people, if only you would listen to my voice!" It is as if we were holding our hands tight over our ears, shouting at the top of our voice, "La-La-La, I can't hear you!" (Of course, while we're shouting like that, we can't exactly communicate much of value to anyone, either.) So Jesus touches us and says, "Be opened!"
May we all receive something of that touch today.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
'tis the season
A "Saints" background I saw on someone's Twitter profile last week inspired me to create seasonal backgrounds myself. I just put a Mardi Gras background for my Twitter page. If you'd like to use it, feel free to do so. (A little gift to the "Donate" button on the right would be a nice idea, too.)I hope to put the Lent background up on Tuesday ... night.
Women who get their way
If the lectionary readings had generalized titles, that could be today's. The first reading is the sad story of how Solomon's many wives compromised his devotion to the Lord, to the point where he, the builder of the Temple of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of the Exodus, the Giver of the Covenant, built shrines and altars to the various local divinities of his wives' nations (even the ones that practiced human sacrifice!) The Gospel shows us Jesus, giving in to the insistent pleas of a woman from those same neighboring countries, a "Syro-Phoenician" with a sick daughter. She was so insistent (can we say she "doggedly" pursued the Lord?) that instead of getting a clue from his focus on "the children of Israel" that she practically won the miracle she wanted out of pure spunk.
What a difference--and yet, what amazing similarity between the two stories of how women got their way with the King.
(Speaking of women and the King, today is the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes!)
What a difference--and yet, what amazing similarity between the two stories of how women got their way with the King.
(Speaking of women and the King, today is the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes!)
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Up and Coming... or coming up?
Yesterday was an adventure. We had a snowstorm here in Chicago the very day we had scheduled months and months ago to celebrate Sr. Helena's Silver Anniversary. We had invited Bishop Gustavo Garcia-Siller, since it was his 25th anniversary of ordination, too. So while I was in the kitchen chopping veggies and wondering how to cook the four different kinds of fish Bill and Madeline had brought over, I kept expecting to hear any minute that the bishop had canceled and that none of the other guests (our volunteer team) would make it. Instead, the bishop came early and made his Holy Hour in our chapel while I prepped and cooked mahi-mahi, swordfish, tuna and salmon. Most of our volunteers made it, and we had a great evening!
This morning (no, we didn't feel the earthquake), I had to shovel a bit more snow this morning to make sure that I will be able to back our community van out of the garage this evening. (Don't want to miss choir practice!) (Actually, I kind of do. And also I wouldn't mind missing the choir Mass on Sunday. We're doing some contemporary "high" liturgical music that...I just don't think is meant for liturgy! Too complicated!)
This weekend I will be putting my techie skills to work for two webcasts (one of which I just found out I was elected for). Saturday will be our usual Theology of the Body class with Fr. Loya. We went through most of Pope John Paul's tome last year, so this year Fr. Loya has been doing a kind of "apologetics" course on the Theology of the Body: how to explain this stuff to people. That's Saturday on our "TOB" channel. But Friday evening, Fr. Loya is the guest speaker for a series on Pope John Paul's earlier book, written while he was just a young bishop, "Love and Responsibility." The series is taking place in Texas, but with speakers from all over, courtesy of the Internet. (Sr Helena will do a guest spot, too!) So I'll be Fr. Loya's techie on Friday. Join us at 7:00! You can view the archived sessions of the Love and Responsibility program online, so you can be all caught up by Friday. (I also found a write-up about the book by Dr. William May.) Our TOB stuff will be streamed live (and archived) at http://www.ustream.tv/channel/theology-of-the-body as usual. See you then!
This morning (no, we didn't feel the earthquake), I had to shovel a bit more snow this morning to make sure that I will be able to back our community van out of the garage this evening. (Don't want to miss choir practice!) (Actually, I kind of do. And also I wouldn't mind missing the choir Mass on Sunday. We're doing some contemporary "high" liturgical music that...I just don't think is meant for liturgy! Too complicated!)
This weekend I will be putting my techie skills to work for two webcasts (one of which I just found out I was elected for). Saturday will be our usual Theology of the Body class with Fr. Loya. We went through most of Pope John Paul's tome last year, so this year Fr. Loya has been doing a kind of "apologetics" course on the Theology of the Body: how to explain this stuff to people. That's Saturday on our "TOB" channel. But Friday evening, Fr. Loya is the guest speaker for a series on Pope John Paul's earlier book, written while he was just a young bishop, "Love and Responsibility." The series is taking place in Texas, but with speakers from all over, courtesy of the Internet. (Sr Helena will do a guest spot, too!) So I'll be Fr. Loya's techie on Friday. Join us at 7:00! You can view the archived sessions of the Love and Responsibility program online, so you can be all caught up by Friday. (I also found a write-up about the book by Dr. William May.) Our TOB stuff will be streamed live (and archived) at http://www.ustream.tv/channel/theology-of-the-body as usual. See you then!
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Dedication
Today's readings don't have a whole lot in common at first glance. We have a bit of King Solomon's prayer from the dedication of the Temple, and then the Gospel shows Jesus addressing the scribes with the Pharisees about how not to play games with God's law. (We're all tempted to, so we can't let ourselves off the hook: the examples Jesus gives were typical cases of rationalizing in order to wiggle out of a stated value in order to protect an unstated one.) But there is a word in the Gospel, given to us in Aramaic, no less, that links the Gospel with that snippet of 1 Kings: qorban.
In the ancient Syriac liturgies, "qorbana" referred to the Eucharistic Prayer of the Mass. We could translate it "consecration" or "consecrated" or, as the NAB does in the Gospel, "dedicated." Dedicated, like the Temple, to God: belonging to God; set apart for God; of God, as if it were a "dwelling of God on earth."
What part of your daily routine is "qorban"? Isn't it easy, though, to use that "dedication" as an excuse not to rise to the occasion to serve God in another way? (Maybe that temptation comes more in religious life...) Jesus is clear: God always comes first, but the way he is to be served is not always, externally that is, qorban.
In the ancient Syriac liturgies, "qorbana" referred to the Eucharistic Prayer of the Mass. We could translate it "consecration" or "consecrated" or, as the NAB does in the Gospel, "dedicated." Dedicated, like the Temple, to God: belonging to God; set apart for God; of God, as if it were a "dwelling of God on earth."
What part of your daily routine is "qorban"? Isn't it easy, though, to use that "dedication" as an excuse not to rise to the occasion to serve God in another way? (Maybe that temptation comes more in religious life...) Jesus is clear: God always comes first, but the way he is to be served is not always, externally that is, qorban.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Weekend Report
The day was full--so full I have to bow out a bit early, just to recuperate!
We had our weekly Church history class here (using Ascension Press' "Epic" DVD series). Every week we get new participants, and the overall impressions are more than positive. But while that was going on here in Chicago, back in Boston it was Vow Day for Sr Neville Forchap (now Sister Neville Christine, fsp). Later in the day I prepared a birthday supper for Holy Family Institute member, Bill and his wife Madeline. Bill and Madeline made their own first vows in the Pauline Family last September.
At 1:00 our time, Sr Helena and I participated in a Skype conversation with Sean McGaughey for the podcast Catholic Roundup. The topic was the World Communications Day message, and the relationship of the Church and the new media generally. What I have only used Skype two or three times, and never for a group conversation, so it was a new experience for me. (Always good to learn new things for the mission.)
And, speaking of new things, tomorrow is shaping up to be the first time ever that I will watch the Super Bowl and actually attempt to follow the game. I can't help it. I'm from New Orleans! (Geaux, Saints!)
We had our weekly Church history class here (using Ascension Press' "Epic" DVD series). Every week we get new participants, and the overall impressions are more than positive. But while that was going on here in Chicago, back in Boston it was Vow Day for Sr Neville Forchap (now Sister Neville Christine, fsp). Later in the day I prepared a birthday supper for Holy Family Institute member, Bill and his wife Madeline. Bill and Madeline made their own first vows in the Pauline Family last September.
At 1:00 our time, Sr Helena and I participated in a Skype conversation with Sean McGaughey for the podcast Catholic Roundup. The topic was the World Communications Day message, and the relationship of the Church and the new media generally. What I have only used Skype two or three times, and never for a group conversation, so it was a new experience for me. (Always good to learn new things for the mission.)And, speaking of new things, tomorrow is shaping up to be the first time ever that I will watch the Super Bowl and actually attempt to follow the game. I can't help it. I'm from New Orleans! (Geaux, Saints!)
Friday, February 05, 2010
Cloud of Witnesses
The liturgy is going out of its way today to present us with models of faith and devotion. And drama, too.
Yesterday we heard of the death of King David; today we have a paeon to David from the very late book of Sirach. (Tellingly, Sirach devotes as much time to David's liturgical life as he does to his military exploits.) There's another death in the Gospel, but this time it is death at the hands of a king: the sniveling King Herod. Whereas David was the father of a great builder-king (Solomon), this Herod was the son of one (Herod the Great). And where David was bold, Herod was weak. So weak that his wife knew just how to force his hand in getting the head of John the Baptist out of Herod's dungeon and onto a plate. All she had to do was tell her daughter to ask for it "at once." The presence of witnesses insured that Herod would be unable to procrastinate.
But wait, there's more!
Today is also the feast of the early Christian martyr, Agatha and the anniversary of the death of Ven. Mother Thecla Merlo, co-foundress (with Bl. James Alberione) of the Daughters of St. Paul!
All told, four images of wholehearted faith.
Yesterday we heard of the death of King David; today we have a paeon to David from the very late book of Sirach. (Tellingly, Sirach devotes as much time to David's liturgical life as he does to his military exploits.) There's another death in the Gospel, but this time it is death at the hands of a king: the sniveling King Herod. Whereas David was the father of a great builder-king (Solomon), this Herod was the son of one (Herod the Great). And where David was bold, Herod was weak. So weak that his wife knew just how to force his hand in getting the head of John the Baptist out of Herod's dungeon and onto a plate. All she had to do was tell her daughter to ask for it "at once." The presence of witnesses insured that Herod would be unable to procrastinate.
But wait, there's more!
Today is also the feast of the early Christian martyr, Agatha and the anniversary of the death of Ven. Mother Thecla Merlo, co-foundress (with Bl. James Alberione) of the Daughters of St. Paul!
All told, four images of wholehearted faith.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Kingdom: Power and glory?
An interesting theme kind of pops up in today's readings: sovereignty. It's not an everyday sort of word, but we find it in the first reading (1 Kings) and the Responsorial Psalm (which is really from 1 Chronicles), and the Gospel has something mighty close to it when telling us that Jesus gave the Twelve "authority." Of course, authority is not the same thing as sovereignty, but they do have something in common. We see what kind of "authority" the Twelve have as they go out, "preaching repentance" and (showing that this authority has real power behind it) casting out demons (not to mention curing the sick through an anointing).
At the end of the Gospel of Matthew, the Risen Jesus tells us that "all authority in heaven and on earth" are his, and in that authority, he sends his Church to "make disciples of all nations." If anyone can claim the sovereignty, it is he (that canticle from 1 Chronicles makes that clear enough), but what Jesus is concerned about is authority, because that is something we can share effectively even in this life. (When it comes to the fullness of life, it will be the "one Christ loving himself" so even the sovereignty will, in a sense, be something we share!)
At the end of the Gospel of Matthew, the Risen Jesus tells us that "all authority in heaven and on earth" are his, and in that authority, he sends his Church to "make disciples of all nations." If anyone can claim the sovereignty, it is he (that canticle from 1 Chronicles makes that clear enough), but what Jesus is concerned about is authority, because that is something we can share effectively even in this life. (When it comes to the fullness of life, it will be the "one Christ loving himself" so even the sovereignty will, in a sense, be something we share!)
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Can't go home again
Hopefully, today's Gospel (Mark 6:1-6) sounds very familiar: we heard Luke's version of the same incident in two parts, last Sunday and the Sunday before that. It is Jesus teaching in his hometown synagogue and getting dismissed by the locals. He's Mary's boy, for crying out loud! What could he have to tell us, who know all about him and his background?
It's the opposite of the reaction we expect (and so, by the scholarly "criterion of embarrassment," all the more likely to be the unvarnished historical truth). The people of Nazareth treated this proclamation of the Good News as if it were just anybody's message. Interestingly, St. Paul got the opposite when preaching the Gospel in Thessalonica: "You received the message from us, not as the words of men, but as it truly is, the Word of God at work among you who believe." It is as if Jesus suffered rejection in his preaching, so that his apostles might be welcomed in his place!
It's the opposite of the reaction we expect (and so, by the scholarly "criterion of embarrassment," all the more likely to be the unvarnished historical truth). The people of Nazareth treated this proclamation of the Good News as if it were just anybody's message. Interestingly, St. Paul got the opposite when preaching the Gospel in Thessalonica: "You received the message from us, not as the words of men, but as it truly is, the Word of God at work among you who believe." It is as if Jesus suffered rejection in his preaching, so that his apostles might be welcomed in his place!
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Candle Mass
I did, actually, make it to the "candle" Mass on Candlemas! The priest blessed an assortment of candles, one of each of the types they use at St. Peter's, and he held a taper for the entrance, but that was about it as far as the candles went.
It's a wonderful (and quite ancient) feast. And since I can never get enough of dear old Simeon, so alert to every hint of the Spirit's action, I look forward to Candlemas every year. This year, I am especially struck by the silent presence of St. Joseph there in the Temple. All the focus is on Mary and the Baby; you'd think he'd feel a bit awkward, but since his focus, too, was on the Child and his Mother, Joseph was fully taken with the events. I imagine that, like Mary, Joseph too "kept all these things in mind and pondered them in his heart" all the way home to Nazareth. There, unknown years later, he would pray his own "Nunc dimittis" ("Now you let your servant depart; you have fulfilled your word") in the presence of the "consolation of Israel."
If you have a Kindle (our friend Joyce got one for her birthday yesterday), you can download a little book about St Joseph, prepared by Sr. Kathryn James and contributed to by a good many of our sisters. Or, if you, like me, are Kindle-deprived, you can always opt for the paperback
...
It's a wonderful (and quite ancient) feast. And since I can never get enough of dear old Simeon, so alert to every hint of the Spirit's action, I look forward to Candlemas every year. This year, I am especially struck by the silent presence of St. Joseph there in the Temple. All the focus is on Mary and the Baby; you'd think he'd feel a bit awkward, but since his focus, too, was on the Child and his Mother, Joseph was fully taken with the events. I imagine that, like Mary, Joseph too "kept all these things in mind and pondered them in his heart" all the way home to Nazareth. There, unknown years later, he would pray his own "Nunc dimittis" ("Now you let your servant depart; you have fulfilled your word") in the presence of the "consolation of Israel."
If you have a Kindle (our friend Joyce got one for her birthday yesterday), you can download a little book about St Joseph, prepared by Sr. Kathryn James and contributed to by a good many of our sisters. Or, if you, like me, are Kindle-deprived, you can always opt for the paperback
Monday, February 01, 2010
Geaux, Saints!
I have to share this little news piece from the New Orleans area! (This is one Super Bowl that I'll be watching myself!)
coming and going
Sr Barbara and I were out of town Friday and Saturday for the "Women of Christ" conference (archdiocese of Milwaukee). Some of the conversations we had with the participants got me thinking, though, about the peculiar idea that many of these very active Catholics have about holiness. There were such exaggerations. Like the awe and esteem for people (especially priests and religious) who were thought to be holy, based on some externals like that person's particular life story (dramatic conversions really help) or ascetical practices (the stricter, the better). I heard one story about a priest who seemed to be having a heavenly vision in the middle of a nice dinner at a restaurant.
I wanted to run the other way. For one thing, St. Paul said that the "spirit of a prophet is under the prophet's control," so the peculiar setting for the heavenly vision struck me as suspect indeed. But beyond that, what good is it to the Church if Father So-and-So, for example, takes fifteen minutes to pray the Consecration, when the people in the pews are so rapt in the priest and not in the Lord? Not that there aren't holy people around, but the focus of many stories I heard was so much on the extraordinary character of the manifestations of faith or prayer, they seemed to betray the truth that holiness should be the norm, not the exception, in our communities of faith. And what good is that?
I wanted to run the other way. For one thing, St. Paul said that the "spirit of a prophet is under the prophet's control," so the peculiar setting for the heavenly vision struck me as suspect indeed. But beyond that, what good is it to the Church if Father So-and-So, for example, takes fifteen minutes to pray the Consecration, when the people in the pews are so rapt in the priest and not in the Lord? Not that there aren't holy people around, but the focus of many stories I heard was so much on the extraordinary character of the manifestations of faith or prayer, they seemed to betray the truth that holiness should be the norm, not the exception, in our communities of faith. And what good is that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

