perspective

It was the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Fort Wayne, Indiana. My wife and I, though Evangelicals, walked into the church twenty years ago to observe a daily Mass. Holy men, wooden statues, greeted us within the narthex, nearly showing us cowards. Further in, we found only a few people in a building that swallowed them. It was quiet, somber, and dark. Lifeless.

What does it mean to be follower of Christ? What does it look like? Does the countenance of a woman matter in worship? Do we know what lies in a man's heart?

We make so many judgments.

Every morning we see ourselves from a place of mercy. The challenge for us, our mandate, is to show the same mercy, even more, toward our brothers and sisters and toward all people. To see them, as St Paul says, as better than ourselves. To see ourselves as sinners so that we might cry out for Christ's presence every moment of our lives.

I used to look at the Catholic Church (not a particular church, but the entire structure) from without it and, at my best, be saddened by all they thought they had to do to please God - what salvation meant to them. There was baptism and all the other sacraments, Mass and so many other things that, left undone, they thought would incur God's wrath. Perspective is so important. We are constantly in danger of misreading the other. It's all too natural. Now as a Catholic I sometimes wince even still, five years later, at the obligations laid upon me. And when I do so it is because I have lost perspective and forgotten that the Church is my Mother. Her goal is to nurture and nourish our sanctity, to draw us to Christ and drag us when necessary. She says that this or that obligation or precept is important for us if we want to pursue holiness, if we want to become like God, if we want to be clean. Here, she says, are graces - food that costs no money, wine that is free - come and be satisfied. Open wide your mouth, she says, and I will place God in it.

Nowadays I look back at Evangelicalism, and I see there the other I once saw in the face of Catholicism. I see the morality, the obligations, that each little community imposes on itself, the unwritten but real codes: Be like this. Listen to this music. Eat this. Don't drink that. Fellowship here. KJV only. Anything but KJV. Read your Bibles. Do not do all these terrible things. Pretend as if you do not want to do all these terrible things. Smile. Clap your hands. Believe this and that. Here is the list of what it means to be Christian - to be part of this community. And I remember that they too need mercy and grace, that they are supplicants before God's throne just as I am. They are my brothers and sisters. It is true that they are sinners, every one of them. But they are better than me.

I, well, I am broken. I court death. I am in need of constant care, placed in the inn by my Brother - that one good, true Neighbor - to be cared for by the innkeepers, to be healed by the sweet oil and wine that is kept there. This is why I am Catholic.

Go to Mass or Go to Hell

This week we had a holy day of obligation in the Catholic Church: the feast of the Immaculate Conception. A holy day requires those of us who are Catholic to attend Mass/Liturgy if possible. The penalty for not attending is, well, hell.

Sort of. I mean we are given the sacrament of Reconciliation or Confession to prevent such an undesirable arrangement, but missing for no good reason is considered a grave/mortal sin. I'm not a big fan of grave sin, or at least not the definition of it. It makes our spirituality too much an exercise in accounting. Now I understand and appreciate its intention. I understand how the Church tries to instruct and nurture us as she is, our mother. I understand that the Church is pointing to the Liturgy as an encounter with Christ - the encounter with Christ. I understand that the Church is saying that it is a great good, and that your missing (for no good reason) reveals some disorder in your heart. And I agree. But most Catholics come away from the doctrine with the idea - feel this way even if they don't intellectually view it as such - that if you commit a grave sin, and then get hit by a train, you go to hell.

This is shocking, for some. Legalistic for others. For myself, I'd rather be treated as an adult than a child. Obligating my presence on pains of hell helps no one. Labeling something such as this as grave sin (with eternal consequences) obliterates our ability to understand the Fatherhood of God. It strips away faithfulness and friendship and abiding in Christ, and he in us, and exchanges it for a legal system, juridical. Sometimes it is better to understand sin as a bent rather than an individual act. It can be better seen, often, as a revelation of the heart or a way of being, and not simply a slip or fall. When I sin gravely, and I do, it is a sign of my weakness and of my need. I have never not desired reconciliation with God (thanks be to God!) - and this is his grace working in me. But he is faithful even when we are faithless, because, as the Scriptures say, he cannot deny himself.

I'm not saying that one should get a pass on murder if it's a one-time kind of thing. But skipping one Mass is not an objective evil (other than, possibly, because of one's disobedience to the Church). How could it be since Mass was not always required? It is, however, an intrinsic good and we should be exhorted to make ourselves present to God, to receive him in Word and in Mystery/Sacrament. Missing Mass regularly is your exclusion of yourself from God. (Of course, I'm speaking to Catholics here.) This is death, or mortal/grave sin.

We need to better understand our sin and how it affects us. I don't think defining missing Mass as a grave sin, as the Church does - with its consequences - to be particularly helpful. Stripping away the "on pains of hell" can be helpful, as it helps me better understand sin in the midst of our disordered culture. The instruction is important; the call to conversion is important.

God is love. Does his being love strip away from me the need for the sacrament of Reconciliation? Hardly. God is life. I can and do separate myself from him, but the fact that I present myself before him for Reconciliation shows his grace working in me. His presence is constant, immediate - there is never a time that I need to get his attention. He calls and we must answer, because there is no where else to go. No better place. God is not angry with us. But sometimes we become angry with him. Sometimes we are faithless. This does not change God, but it does change us. And this is why Reconciliation/Confession is so important. Because it heals our infirmities.

Push back if you would. I understand my disagreement is problematic, but I think the Church can do better. What do you think? What am I misunderstanding?

Anne Rice, Called Out of Darkness

I just finished Anne Rice's Called Out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession. Let me tell you, I liked it. Of course, I like Anne Rice's writing. It's not all perfect, but some of it is brilliant. This is a good book. She was raised uber-Catholic (daily Mass, Tuesday night novenas, etc.) and yet left the Catholic Church and Christ to become an atheist for nearly forty years. And then she was gently called home by Christ. It's a great little autobiography.

She says some interesting things at the conclusion of her book. One of the things she brings up is the idea of gender and sexuality in the Catholic Church. She is at odds with the teaching of the Church here, and yet she's very quiet about it and, it seems to me, very humble about it. She doesn't demand the Church change anything, but suggests that perhaps our view of gender and sexuality needs to be informed by science much like our views of evolution or heliocentrism have been. Now to understand Anne, gender plays a huge role in who she is as a person and how she sees herself throughout the book (throughout her life). For years she never thought of herself as a girl, but simply as a person. Anne also has a son who is gay. So these ideas of gender and sexuality are important to her personally. But she's honest with it and she sincerely communicates, in spite of where she wishes the Church would change, her love for both Christ and Church. It's an altogether interesting little mix.

(On a related note, Avery was talking to me yesterday and said she was going to be a priest when she grew up. I explained to her that it wasn't possible, and her eyes fell and she told me it wasn't fair.)

This view of Anne's might be something offensive for some of you, but I don't think it ought to be. There are issues I have with Church teachings: I think after a half dozen children or so an occasional *ahem* condom shouldn't be considered grave sin in a financially challenged home. Yet I still do my best to be obedient and submit myself to the teaching of the Church. I may never completely understand why the Church teaches some things. My view of hell leans toward Orthodoxy, but I don't make an issue of it. And I like my Nicene Creed without the filioque, but I still happily pray the Creed with it when I worship with my brothers and sisters. These are areas of tension for me with our Church. But she is the Church. And I love her. And I want nothing but her. This is the same feeling I get from Anne Rice in her book with her "objections." It's worth the read.

.....

And Happy Father's Day to you dads out there. To my dad especially (I love you so much). And to all our priests. And, of course, to our Father, God.

Freedom and Discipline

In rejoinder to my depressing post on being tired and fat, here's a clip from Tom Howard's excellent book On Being Catholic:

It is the paradox in which obedience to rules, renunciation of various pleasures, and discipline turn out to be the very tactics by which freedom is gained. And further, it is the paradox in which this hard-won freedom turns out to be synonymous with joy and magnificence and perfection and beauty.

We may see these paradoxes at work at a thousand points. The ballet, for example: How has that ballerina achieved this supple and glorious mastery? Oh, would that my body looked like that and that I had the freedom to execute those breathtaking movements. How do they do it?

By obedience and renunciation and discipline. There is no other way. Thousands of hours, year after year, giving up this pleasure and that food, exercising in utter obscurity, placing oneself wholly under the rigorous direction of the master.

And the fruit of all that? Mastery. Control. Beauty. Perfection. And not only for the dancers themselves. The rest of us are the beneficiaries. Their prowess brings us joy. It hails us with truth in one of its modes, namely, the truth that attaches to man as body. In some sense, the form exhibited by Adam, new-made from clay, is a true form. We feel that the bodies of dancers are reminiscent of that form. The rest of us, full of potato chips and sour cream dips and nachos grande, must make shift to hobble about, wheezing and grunting, hauling our tremulous torsos and abdomens in and out of cars and up and down the stairs. Ah, would that I could move like that dancer, we mourn.

...

The paradox, of course, could be chased all through the fabric of human life. The freedom to do something is not easily won. The greater the perfection sought, the greater must be the remorselessness of our own self-abandon to the discipline that constitutes the steps up to the summit where freedom reigns in great bliss.

... Concupiscence has undone us.

Now Howard is moving into asceticism and love in this chapter titled, "Catholics and Freedom" - being schooled in Charity and the work involved, but his analogy is precise and apt for me today, especially in light of my recent foray into self-pity.

Since I am speaking of the book, I would highly recommend it. It is perhaps the best modern book written by a convert that I have so far read ("modern" so as not to compare it to such great works as St. Augustine's Confessions, or even to Chesterton's Orthodoxy) about what it means to be Catholic. There are issues that I have with parts of it, but overall it is well-written and beautiful and non-confrontational and certainly worth your time.

Another Rundown

Life with a new baby can take some time getting used to. This week has been one of those transitions in our family as my wife headed back to work and I was home with three little ones. All of whom are in diapers. Now the diaper changing isn't so bad. Honestly. Well, some diapers are. Some I dream of mounting on my office wall, shellacked, to show off to visitors:"Now let me tell you the story about this one over here - flailing heels, the baby screaming ... crap everywhere." But for the most part the diaper changing is the least of a lonely stay-at-home parent's worries. It's everything else. It's being consumed by the needs of others. And while this is a good - being saved/deified through childbirth - it is, by definition, very difficult.

With Noah's entrance into our daily life, something strange happened in my brain. For weeks, every time I looked at him, I thought "Robert" instead of "Noah." Now we have never had any intention of naming a boy Robert - it was pure brain flatulence. But it was the strangest thing and took me nearly a month to get over. I also constantly referred to him as a her, which can probably be understood as we also just had a girl last January. He is sweet, however, even though he cries much of the time. Long story short, I'm getting older. It's really quite a miracle that I can still make babies. By the time Noah is my age, I will probably be dead. But I hope not.

By the way, we have officially become a large family. So our new 12-passenger van silently proclaims us. Yes, we are weird. Yes, we are different. People wonder at the size of our family when just half of us go somewhere. Our carbon footprint is bigger than yours. Officially, the oil SNAFU in the Gulf is our fault, our responsibility, and BP, Transocean and Halliburton might as well get their stories straight and start blaming us. (To be frank, you're responsible for that mess as well.)

.....

We had friends surprise visit us on Saturday. These are people who speak peace into your soul, like an afternoon in the shade on a breezy pre-summer day. We are sad they couldn't stay longer. We are sad that they no longer live near us.

.....

I want to be Catholic. Simply Catholic. I don't want to be an American Catholic. I don't want to be a traditionalist or a progressive. I don't want to be a neo-Cath or an Evangelical Catholic. I just want to be Catholic - part of Christ's Body, a lover of God and my neighbor. Not defined by my politics or my past, but liberated by Christ to be Catholic. Sacramental. Orthodox. Quiet. Who can show me the way? What does being Catholic mean? What does it look like?

Reading

Last night I finished reading Graham Greene's The Heart of the Matter. It's a fine novel. (I stopped reading Brighton Rock because it didn't hook me.) Greene's novels are fascinatingly Catholic - and I enjoy them immensely. But I also wonder how others approach them and how the Catholicity of the novels affects their readings. The novels are not about Catholicism, but rather about shattered humanity - people who happen to be Catholic. The Heart of the Matter's Henry Scobie, a policeman, wrestles with relationship and sin and peace in the context of brokenness.

At the same time, I am reading Harold Bloom's How to Read and Why. Bloom avers that stories ought to be stripped of ideology and simply be stories. His greatest respect (generally, but specifically here as well) is given to Shakespeare, with whom no personal ideology can be discovered from the stories he tells - he writes about humanity, seemingly without favoritism (though how richly he paints his characters is often telling). Bloom says that we must not pay attention to the one telling the story, but to the story itself. These are good lessons - for readers and writers. Yet Graham Greene's ideology, his Catholicism, at least by the end of his stories, is prominent (always portraying the struggle of one's faith, however, rather than any certainty of faith - always showing us ourselves as fallen men and women). I would like to read Bloom's take on Greene, who does not make Bloom's book - though this list of Bloom's is hardly an effort at exhaustiveness. Bloom covers Graham Greene elsewhere, from my understanding, (I would like to read his opinion) and also believes that Greene has established his place in the "Western Canon."

Greene is a new favorite of mine, because of his Catholicity and regardless of his Catholicity. He writes well. And he is one of the better Christian writers that I've come across in my lifetime. But it is time for a break from Greene, Dostoevsky's The Idiot is lying on my table. And after that I'm going to take a stab at the apocalyptic Blood Meridian, by Cormac McCarthy.

Churchy Stuff

Life is full. I miss blogging, but I often feel as if I don't have the time unless I steal it from another place. I feel as if I'm taking something from my family when I walk up the stairs to my little half-storey office and sit down at the computer. At least when I watch TV, I watch it with others - perhaps we're only a group of isolated people in front of the TV, but it still feels more communal to me than the computer. Presence is important. Being present is not everything, but it is something more than absence.

That being said, I woke early this morning and would like to share a few items.

Cate was baptized, in a somewhat private affair, on February 28. The other children were baptized quite publicly, during Sunday Mass, but this was a quiet affair on a Saturday morning. It was lovely, as are all baptisms. And tears, though not shed, were heavy in my eyes. As I get older, I get weepier - rather, I am more easily brought to tears. All the same, sacraments and tears seem ready companions, for how can one be brought into the presence of such grace, the presence of God, without tears? It is at such times that joy or sorrow or repentance or comfort or peace swells into salty sacramentals. Glory to Jesus Christ!

Anna will be receiving the sacrament of Reconciliation (Conversion, Confession, Forgiveness, Penance) tomorrow morning. The children will be singing two songs and doing some readings and meditations before going before Christ to receive peace and pardon. It is a wonderful introduction to their life in Christ, and a sacrament that needs a better exemplar in their father. I hope to make Penance a more regularly sought grace in my own life. This sacrament is too often misunderstood by me, too often pushed away. I imagine because I need it so desperately.

We went to a St. Patrick's Day feast at our parish last weekend (Guinness stew - yum!) and simply had a ball. The kids did some Irish dancing, and I can't remember the last time all of us had so much fun. I was flushed with joy, drunk. During one of their dances, Fr. Al got up and was swinging from partner to partner by his elbow and when he got to Will, the raccoon couldn't do it - the thought of dancing with Father sent him into hysterics. What joy! What fun! It's good being Catholic. It reminded me of the Simpsons clip, if I can be so irreverent, of Homer and Bart's conversion to Catholicism and Marge's vision of heaven - of what Catholic heaven is like. What a great memory (the dinner); what wonderful fellowship.

Graham Greene

I finished The End of the Affair and find it terribly fascinating in a variety of ways, not the least of which is the wild freedom that Graham Greene, who was Catholic, enjoys. There is sex here. Adultery. Hate. Prostitution. (Woo-hoo?) It's the stuff of life that has always seemed too hush-hush, and yet Greene, out of such despair and joy and love and lust and spent humanity creates something beautiful that is difficult to describe other than with the book itself. This book is a triumph of God's mercy - a very un-Victorian look at the Victorian Thompson's "The Hound of Heaven." Of the Catholic authors I've read, this book is perhaps the most evangelical, if I can use the word, the most stripped-down, bared-bones call to God and Catholicism without completely crossing the line into a novelized tract (as some miserable Christian fictions cannot seem to rise above, who perhaps lack the freedom to rise above) - and while the narrator resists God's call entirely, you sense that even he knows that he is resisting Something rather than nothing. It's terribly, terribly fascinating to me.

This novel is my first introduction to Graham Greene and he's now on my list of authors with whom I must better familiarize myself with - and the thought of the Waughs and Greenes out there, undiscovered and unread, excite me. When I was younger, I remember hearing of Greene's being a Christian and then hearing that his novels weren't very Christian at all, and so, in my shining purity, I never neared one of his books - what a shame. Although, to be entirely frank, at the time I surely would not have been ready for such a story as this.

What is exciting for me, as well, I suppose, as a man who wants at some point in his life to write a novel, who contemplates such a feat more than works toward it, is the beauty that Waugh and Greene find in life, and the mercy imbedded within it. And how God redeems, woos us, is faithful - best of lovers.

Btw, the novel also corresponded in some odd ways to this past Monday's episode of House, which I'd recommend heartily. "So very many coincidences," indeed.

Brideshead

I watched Brideshead Revisited last weekend and then checked out the book from the library. I rarely do this - watch the movie first, read the novel second. Laura had seen the previews, however, and was interested, so I put it in our Netflix queue. I had heard vague charges of anti-Catholicism about the movie, but knew little of Waugh and less of his faith. I knew the book was supposed to have been borne out of his Catholicism, his being a convert, and after watching the movie, I knew that the film could not be a fair representation of his book. The movie is quite anti-Catholic, which is fine, if you don't mind the story saying the opposite thing the author meant for the story. One thing is sure, the book is profoundly Catholic, with an agnostic narrator, without feeling at all pushy or tract-like. It simply is the story of a family. It's not a story about being Catholic so much as it is a story of grace (which for some of us are the same thing). The movie, just as the book, is gorgeous, and received four stars from me for its luxuriousness. And what the movie could not do, and what a movie cannot do unless written to do so, is strip the mercy and grace intrinsic within characters simply because they are played by actors, by persons. There is sympathy or compassion there yet - an angel stirring the waters even though the angel was not welcome.

The novel is more glorious than the movie. I still found the film quite moving, however, though in a tragic sense rather than in the hope and grace that is impressed upon one while reading the novel. I would love to hear from those of you who have both read the book and seen the movie. What are your impressions? If you're not Catholic, what are your impressions of the novel? If you're unsympathetic to Catholicism, the movie will undoubtedly confirm your worser suspicions of our faith, as there are plenty of cliched Catholics present. Similar characters are also present in the book, but the difference in the book is that the book also has the real thing, and not just the cliche. But I need to re-read it to draw any better conclusions.

I also picked up The End of the Affair by Graham Greene from the library and am enjoying it now. I may say a word or two about it when I finish.

Diocese of Charleston on Fr Newman's Comments

THE DIOCESE OF CHARLESTON
Statement of Monsignor Martin T. Laughlin
Administrator of the Diocese of Charleston

CHARLESTON, S.C. (November 14, 2008) - This past week, the Catholic Church’s clear, moral teaching on the evil of abortion has been pulled into the partisan political arena. The recent comments of Father Jay Scott Newman, pastor of St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Greenville, S.C., have diverted the focus from the Church’s clear position against abortion. As Administrator of the Diocese of Charleston, let me state with clarity that Father Newman’s statements do not adequately reflect the Catholic Church’s teachings. Any comments or statements to the contrary are repudiated.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church states, “Man has the right to act in conscience and in freedom so as personally to make moral decisions.” The Catechism goes on to state: “In the formation of conscience the Word of God is the light for our path; we must assimilate it in faith and prayer and put it into practice. We must also examine our conscience before the Lord’s Cross. We are assisted by the gifts of the Holy Spirit, aided by the witness or advice of others and guided by the authoritative teaching of the Church.”

Christ gives us freedom to explore our own conscience and to make our own decisions while adhering to the law of God and the teachings of the faith. Therefore, if a person has formed his or her conscience well, he or she should not be denied Communion, nor be told to go to confession before receiving Communion.

The pulpit is reserved for the Word of God. Sometimes God’s truth, as is the Church’s teaching on abortion, is unpopular. All Catholics must be aware of and follow the teachings of the Church.

We should all come together to support the President-elect and all elected officials with a view to influencing policy in favor of the protection of the unborn child. Let us pray for them and ask God to guide them as they take the mantle of leadership on January 20, 2009.

I ask also for your continued prayers for me and for the Diocese of Charleston.

Thanks be to God.

No Communion for Obama Supporters

This statement by Fr Newman angers me on a number of levels. Perhaps as Catholics we need to hang up our citizenship altogether, because there is not a guiltless place to lay one's head on the political landscape. If one must do penance after voting for Obama, then one must do penance after voting for McCain. Perhaps one ought to do penance for voting for George W. Bush who bloodied our hands in an unjust war and taught us how to justify torture. Perhaps one ought to do penance for voting for Bush Sr., since after Clinton took office the number of abortions dropped by nearly half a million from where it had previously stood. I swear, how we love to bully and sway until those around us cower, delighted.

I thank God for those bishops willing to lovingly rebuke Catholic politicians who are ignorant of the Church's teaching on abortion. Where are the bishops in the Church who are willing to stand up against this kind of behavior, which plays at holiness but forgets charity? It's just more Turkish Delight.

November 5

It's sad to me that red and blue run deeper in us in this country than our catholicity - our communion in Christ. I can't wait till November 5, not so that we can turn a corner in our country (whatever corner that might be politically), but so that the Body of Christ can once more appear to be the Body of Christ. Where my being a brother at least seems to be more important than whether I am red or blue, or different from you. When I no longer have to worry about being shoved aside or turned away from because I disagree with you about what it's about. What business does judgment have to be so cherished within the Body of Christ? It's a cancer. It kills, devours and destroys.

Life is beautiful. It rises up out of the One who is Life. People are to be loved. That one is not my enemy. Nor this one. Elections are important, this one perhaps especially so, but is it important enough to divide the Body? Where is our kinship? Where is our communion? Where are those ties that are stronger than patriotism and thicker than blood?

There should be no issue that separates me from you. We are Christ's. We do our best to be obedient, to be humble, to patiently endure. We work. We pray. We do not kick and spit at and beat one another. We don't even treat our animals that way.

We cannot judge and love at the same time, wrote Fr. Neuhaus recently in First Things. And though we sometimes disagree, that statement is unequivocally true. It is central to Whose we are. And it is a choice set before us today. We cannot love God and hate our brother. Perhaps we can get that right before November 4 so that unity doesn't seem such a farce on November 5.

Immigration: Still a Problem

A priest in the Iowa meat-packing company round-up community (if you recall) lets off steam. And we hope and pray that some things change.

Pope Paul VI: Convinced of Christ

Convinced of Christ: yes, I feel the need to proclaim him, I cannot keep silent. «Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!» (1 Cor 9,16). I am sent by him, by Christ himself, to do this. I am an apostle, I am a witness. The more distant the goal, the more difficult my mission the more pressing is the love that urges me to it (2 Cor 5,14). I must bear witness to his name: Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God (Mt 16,16). He reveals the invisible God, he is the firstborn of all creation, the foundation of everything created (Col 1,15f.). He is the Teacher of mankind, and its Redeemer. He was born, he died and he rose again for us. He is the centre of history and of the world; he is the one who knows us and who loves us; he is the companion and the friend of our life. He is the man of sorrows and of hope. It is he who will come and who one day will be our judge and - we hope -the everlasting fulness of our existence, our happiness.

I could never finish speaking about him: he is the light and the truth; indeed, he is «the way, the truth and the life» (Jn 14,6). He is the bread and the spring of living water to satisfy our hunger and our thirst (Jn 6,35; 7,38). He is our shepherd, our guide, our model, our comfort, our brother. Like us, and more than us, he has been little, poor, humiliated; he has been a worker; he has known misfortune and been patient. For our sake he spoke, worked miracles and founded a new kingdom where the poor are happy, where peace is the principle for living together, where the pure of heart and those who mourn are raised up and comforted, where those who hunger and thirst after justice have their fill, where sinners can be forgiven, where all are brothers.

Jesus Christ: you have heard him spoken of; indeed the greater part of you are already his: you are Christians. So, to you Christians I repeat his name, to everyone I proclaim him: Jesus Christ «is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega» (Rv 21,6); he is the king of the new world; he is the secret of history; he is the key to our destiny. He is the mediator, the bridge, between heaven and earth. He is... the Son of Man, because he is the Son of God... He is the son of Mary... Jesus Christ is our constant preaching; it is his name that we proclaim to the ends of the earth (Rom 10,18) and throughout all ages.

(Homily given at Manilla, November 29, 1970 [©Libreria Editrice Vaticana])

HT: Daily Gospel

Offerings for the Cult

Lately, I have done my best not to write much about the differences between Protestantism and Catholicism here as I have both Catholic and Protestant readers. And I've miserably failed friends and family in the past by highlighting those differences. It is not my purpose to offend, just a bad case of overzealousness. Occasionally, however, this blog becomes a release valve for me to blow off steam, because frankly I've got no one with whom I can talk about my Catholic faith and my faith experiences.

So, to be clear, I'm about to blow off some steam. I am upset.

I get tired of the same old lines taught by fundamentalist Evangelicals as facts concerning Catholicism. I understand that this misinformation is not put out there maliciously; I understand that it is genuinely believed by those who speak it. I also understand that it is often propagated and even motivated out of love for us Catholics. Regardless, it is misinformation passed on from soul to soul, generation after generation. Sadly, there are too few who choose to investigate for themselves the claims of the Catholic Church, preferring instead ignorance.

Take this picture as an example. This picture is on the Web site of a young Evangelical woman my wife's family knows who is going to Chile as a missionary. (And I applaud her willingness to serve Christ and others.) Above the picture is the text of Romans 10.14, from the NIV: "How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?" (This is also an excellent example of the milieu out of which I've come, if you're interested - the Grace Brethren Fellowship, among other denominations). The collection box in the picture, clearly a Romish item, has the following Spanish written on it: "Ofrendas para el sostenimiento del culto" and then the poor soul in Latin America does his or her best to translate it for any American or English-speaking visitors and writes, "Offerings for the cult." And that's basically the literal translation of the Spanish. The only problem, and it's a big problem when the picture is bandied about as proof, is that it confirms the misinformation that many Evangelicals already believe about Catholicism, adequately serving their purpose, with little need of further proof. But it says nothing about Catholic belief and only demonstrates how languages work, and how literal translation sometimes does not. The meaning of the phrase is not "Offerings for the cult" (as an Evangelical would understand a cult), but "Offerings for the support of worship" or "Offerings for the support of the worship service." Now in ten minutes I could find a dozen Protestant Web sites with Spanish translations that include the words "del culto" for "worship" or "worship service." I even have a pdf from the foreign missions board of the denomination that is sending out this young woman that contains the following phrase concerning Church planting: "Planificar y llevar a cabo una practica del culto de adoración" or, as my Google Translator gives it, "Planning and carrying out a practice of worship." And yet here is the picture, offering evidence of the error of Catholicism.

Now this young woman is not the object of my annoyance, the misinformation is. It irritates me because the Catholic Church, while her members are certainly imperfect, has openly made known and published what she believes and practices in The Catechism of the Catholic Church, among a multitude of other documents and letters. Open the index of the Catechism, find a topic, and read what the Church teaches about that topic. At least disagree with what we teach, if you must disagree. Anyone with the faintest desire can pick up a copy and find out for oneself whether Catholicism teaches the worship of Mary, for instance. But so many Evangelicals refuse to do so. Why?

When I became Catholic I discovered that nearly everything I had heard about the Catholic Church in my adult life had been a lie. Nearly everything. One layer of misinformation lithified on top of the next. So I hear how desperately Catholics need evangelizing. I see Foxe's Book of Martyrs, anti-Catholic propaganda at its best, held in high regard (the pot calling the kettle a murderer - to mix my idiom). I listen to a sermon series by John MacArthur and there is not maybe 5 percent of the things he says about the Catholic Church that are true. I hear mockery and derision, and I hear all kinds of accusations, such as "unbiblical" and "apostasy" and "cult." It's exhausting. If anyone has the authority to accuse another of heresy, it isn't a denomination that has yet to see its 100th birthday, or even a schism that hasn't reached its 500th. And it's even more wearisome because as soon as I try to correct someone's misinformation, they want the channel changed. They say they don't want to discuss it. They say that I'm not going to change their mind so there's no sense in bothering to discuss it. They say they already know what the Catholic Church believes, and that I'm the one with the misinformation. They say that I'm argumentative and just want to be proven right, to win an argument. They fire off an accusation and then withdraw, guerrilla like, absolutely refusing to talk about the subject. And it upsets me. If they have the temerity to make an accusation, direct or indirect, they'd better have the courage for the conversation. Isn't that only fair?

Some of what I've heard in the past has been in response to my own overzealousness, my excitement upon converting to Catholicism. And I understand that kind of push back. So I'm trying to learn to be quiet. Yet even when I try to be quiet, the accusations are made. And I have never believed, nor do I still, that it is right to allow what is good to be spoken of as evil.

The Catholic Church has its problems. But being unorthodox is not one of them. Teaching the worship of Mary or idols or saints is not one of them. Having priests or bishops who don't believe what they profess may, on the other hand, be an ongoing issue. But then Protestant denominations have their share of the same kinds of leaders. Generally having a poorly catechized laity may be one of the problems facing the Catholic Church. But still the Church stands. Still the Church teaches and passes on the faith faithfully.

There is no room as brothers and sisters to accuse and withdraw, accuse and withdraw. At best, it is uncharitable. And what gain is there in holding so tightly to an assertion or belief that you are even unwilling or unable to look at?

I am not always gentle or fair or charitable - I've recognized and confessed some of those very failings here. I am in need of God's mercy, every moment - that is my position before God. I need him. But I must also say that the differences (and similarities) between Catholicism and Protestantism must be understood fairly and truly by each of us. We can't afford tolerance (i.e. acceptance as being equally true or valid) differing truths as Christians. We are called to be one. One. We are called to assent when we are called to faith, to submission and obedience. And to splinter or to start your own church community or to break off from your brothers and sisters in schism is to sin against charity - we are called to love one another. And to remain in disunity when you are convinced that Christ desires unity is also sin. The popular thinking of "I'm OK, you're OK" doesn't work in our faith. We need one another too badly. Catholics need their Protestant brothers and sisters. Protestants need their Catholic brothers and sisters, and they also need their mother, the Catholic Church. (We also, of course, both of us, need our Orthodox brothers and sisters.)

I mess up. I judge too quickly. I speak too quickly. I am not quiet enough or humble enough. I do not love enough. I do not treat with the proper respect those to whom my respect is owed. And I am under obligation to all of you. All of these things are true of me. This is also true: I love the Catholic Church. I believe that she is the Church established by Christ, and that Christ and the Church are the whole Christ. I believe that the first century Church was Catholic even if only as a seed, and that those first Christians believed in and taught the Real Presence, the Mystery of Christ, in the Eucharist, and believed in the necessity of regeneration through water (Baptism) and spirit (Faith). And I know, am beginning to know, the exceeding riches that the Church offers our world. I only wish you knew them too. I love my friends and family who remain Evangelical. I respect your faith and your journey. I trust God's work in your lives. He pours his grace out on you and rejoices in your friendship as you rejoice in his. But God is not alone. He is in the midst of a great company: Blessed Mary, the Apostles, the saints, and the angels surround him and worship him. They intercede for us and pray for our salvation. God wants his people to be one people. He wants us to share in communion with him and with one another. Come home.

I Did Not Come Kicking and Screaming

Among other books, I have been reading Crossing the Tiber by Stephen Ray. His book relates his journey into the Catholic Church from Evangelicalism. But it's less than that and more. The book is divided into thirds. The first third is his conversion story. The remaining two-thirds give a somewhat overwhelming portrait of Baptism and the Eucharist and the unified witness of Sacred Scripture, the early Fathers, and current Church teaching concerning these two sacraments. Their testimony is astounding.

Of course, my heart is torn when I read such books because of where I am and where my family is. But let me be forthright and say that I don't believe that my family is in sin being Protestant. I do believe that they're wrong. And (regardless of how little I'll be believed) that is not to say that I do believe that I'm right, by the way. However, I do believe that the Catholic Church is right. My becoming Catholic is not the reward of my intellectual labor, not even my doing. It was not an intellectual discovery on my part, not an intellectual decision with which I rigorously struggled through in study. I did not chew my nails down to the quick wrestling with Catholicism. Some have. No, my becoming Catholic was very much accidental, like falling in love. I was longing for it. When I willingly walked into my first Catholic parish in 25 years and breathed in the smell of the place, I was home. I knew it. Deep calling to deep. My study of the Catholic Church was not to see whether she was apostate, but to see whether she was orthodox. I wasn't researching for a way to keep me from her, but researching to find a way into her. At that point, I already knew I wanted to be Catholic, I just needed to be certain that to be so would not be faithless to Christ. Little did I know that it was Christ who called me. Little did I understand that Christ and the Church are the whole Christ. There is no separating Christ from his Church. He is the Head and we are His Body.

The Catholic Church is populated with imperfect people, and such have populated her throughout history. But she is perfect in her faith. There is wholeness here. And so we pray during our liturgy, "Look not on our sins, but on the faith of your Church."

Section 760 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church says,

Christians of the first centuries said, "The world was created for the sake of the Church." God created the world for the sake of communion with his divine life, a communion brought about by the "convocation" of men in Christ, and this "convocation" is the Church. The Church is the goal of all things, and God permitted such painful upheavals as the angels' fall and man's sin only as occasions and means for displaying all the power of his arm and the whole measure of the love he wanted to give the world:

Just as God's will is creation and is called "the world," so his intention is the salvation of men, and it is called "the Church."

Recently I was listening to Aimee Milburn speak about evangelization and Catholicism. She speaks of how we need to respect others' faith and others' place and journey with and toward God - as Pope John Paul II said, to respect others' "spiritual timing and tempo." I've not respected this "timing and tempo" in others at various times. I probably will fail to do so in the future. And I apologize for my failings, my overstepping of this sacred boundary. I am sorry that I have made others feel as if I do not respect their faith, that I have made you feel as if I do not respect yours. Because I do respect your faith. Deeply. I know that you know and love God, that you are known and loved by Him. And yet my heart aches wanting you to discover this country I have unwittingly stumbled upon. This beautiful place.

But I am learning to be patient. I am learning to be quiet.

I scribble proudly on notepads while others breathe life onto canvas and carve human bodies from marble. Forgive my simple scribblings. If I am proud of them, it is only because they are all that I am capable of.

The Church, Our Mother

Two ladies came to my door last night. I thought they were from the local Kingdom Hall, but as it turned out they were Baptists. They were very nice women and asked if they could send a bus to pick up my children for VBS at the end of June. They wanted names and ages, wanted the legion of children peeking out at them from behind and beside me registered then and there. I had some questions because of my wife's still being in school (extended year, long story) and hemmed and hawed my way out of Registration Now. I was given a flyer with a number to call if I decided to have the kids picked up.

We are not here to quibble over whether I am yellow. I am. So I did not say that I was not interested because I was Catholic. They simply would not have understood. They would not understand how they, with purest intentions, would try to steal God's graces from my children by trying to steal them from his Church.

There are some people, of course, who are Protestant and I would have few problems with them teaching my children about the Scriptures, about Jesus. They know us and, while they do not really understand our being Catholic and do not feel similarly, they respect that we are Catholic. They respect that we do love Christ and that we are in Christ. They understand that much and that much is enough. We know and trust them.

Strangers certainly do not have that relationship, however, and my children become little more than wheat-white-unto-harvest to them. Because they love them? Yes. Because Catholics and Protestants end up speaking past each other, as if speaking different languages? Certainly.

I am not disparaging Protestants here. Let us be honest with one another without having our feelings hurt: If you are a Protestant, you would not send your children to a Catholic VBS either. (Yes, we have them.) Just as you are for your children, I am responsible for the spiritual upbringing of mine. I brought them into the Catholic Church. And I intend to raise them in the Church and keep them in the Church. They may someday leave her. I pray that they do not, but someday they may. But that will then be their decision. Now, as children, they are unable to process or handle the differences between the Catholic Church and Protestant denominations. Now they only understand whether someone loves Jesus.

And some of you may well be wishing we were all like children in this respect, but that, unfortunately, is not our reality. We have real differences. We believe differently. And we must be willing to speak of our differences in order that we may be united with one another. As I said in the comment box for my post on C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity, "Knowing Jack," we cannot be faithful or deep Christians by all of us crowding into the hallway in between the separate rooms. Real ecumenism is not in the part, but in the whole - and it can only take place in one of the rooms.

I believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church. She is visible; not invisible. She must be: If the Church is invisible, then she is also indivisible, which renders our visible unity and Christ's prayer in John 17 meaningless, entirely useless.

But I'm getting off track. My children are saved; they're being saved - I do not need things muddled for them by someone asking them to be part of the Kingdom of which they already belong. I do not need them wondering about whether they prayed a prayer or whether they meant it. We pray. We love. We worship. We live and move and breathe in him. We have friendship with Christ because he has poured out his grace upon us.

I am not against evangelization, by any means, or against the spirit which motivates these good Baptist women to put feet on their faith and knock on my door. But if you wish to evangelize my children, teach them the Scriptures. Make them better Catholics. They do not need to be saved from the Church, but through her.

Just a Fool Disagreeing with an Archbishop

Over at First Things last Tuesday, the Most Reverend Charles J. Chaput, Archbishop of Denver, wrote an article titled, "Thoughts on 'Roman Catholics for Obama '08.' " It was written in response to a group of Catholics that use parts of another one of his articles to justify voting for Senator Obama in spite of his being pro-choice. His Excellency makes it clear that Roman Catholics for Obama (RCO) has not quoted him fully and makes the case for extreme caution before voting for a pro-choice politician. His Excellency is not willing to do so. (I would encourage you to read the article.)

And so, fuel to the fire, there has been much sound and fury in the blogs among fundamentalist and conservative Catholics.

But before I go on, let me provide some brief background information about Catholics and Catholicism. First, there are what I would consider fundamentalists in Catholicism. These are the same kind of fundamentalists that you know in whatever religion or Christian denomination you may move in. I'm not speaking here of Christians who adhere to the fundamentals of their faith - the denotative understanding of the term, as has been formerly understood in Protestant Christianity. These Catholics and Christians are conservative, but that isn't their distinguishing feature. What distinguishes them is that they bandy fear about as a bludgeon. And while it is effective, it is not Christian (that is not to say that they are not Christians). It lacks mercy.

So these fundamentalists pick up Archbishop Chaput's essay and they roll it tightly into a club. They call Obama supporters soft-brained, and some even relegate his supporters to hell. They compare the senator with Moloch. Who, if you remember, was offered babies in sacrifice by throwing them into a fire - thousands of babies.

Now, quickly, I want to say that I am not questioning whether any of these people are Christian or Catholic. I'm not equipped to make that judgment; I don't have the authority to make that determination; it's not my job. And I believe they're good-hearted and well-intentioned. And their vitriol rises up out of their love for children. These are people just like you and me, they too need to be examining their lives to see if they are in the faith, working out their salvation in fear and trembling, uniting themselves to Christ, converting evermore to him each day.

Let me also be clear in saying that Archbishop Chaput, from what I have read of and about him is no fundamentalist. He gives his reasons for voting pro-life. And having a strong opinion on a matter is not the same as judging everyone who disagrees with that opinion. His Excellency believes that there is no moral issue (where there is disagreement in our parties, I imagine worldwide poverty is not under consideration) that outweighs the issue of abortion. And I agree with him. He makes an excellent argument. But I disagree with him here, in that I don't believe it's simply a weighing match. The archbishop says that the Democratic party has not gotten better on the issue of life and therefore he can't vote for such a candidate in good faith. That is all well and good. However, while the Republican party talks a good talk concerning the abortion issue, they have had nearly 30 years of mostly Republican power, and one begins to wonder whether talk is all the Republican party has.

I am sure about one thing as it concerns abortion and politics: My vote for a pro-life Republican president will not diminish the number of abortions in our country in the next four years or the next 40. I believe this to be true based on the past 35 years. I don't believe it anymore than I believe Obama's election would diminish racism or that Hillary's would diminish sexism - perhaps all three nominee's elections could be wonderful symbols, but only in the modern sense of symbols, lacking any substance. These are the kinds of symbols that effect nothing other than making us feel good about ourselves.

Let me say that I am resolutely pro-life. I do not believe abortion is an issue of women's rights but an issue that concerns the dignity and sanctity of life itself. I find the whole mess abominable. And I reject it as firmly as I can along with the Catholic Church and most of Christianity. But that does not mean that I cannot vote for a pro-choice politician because of other moral considerations. Not because they are pro-choice, that would be grave error, but in spite of their being pro-choice. And I can do so in good conscience because, frankly, the Republican party has dropped the ball - if it ever was in play.

I have not, by the way, decided to vote for Senator Obama in November. It may seem so, but that would be a mistaken impression. There is a lot of time between now and then and there needs to be a lot of prayer and consideration. I struggle with this issue constantly. And if you are wondering whether to choose between my wisdom and the archbishop's, I would strongly urge you to follow his Excellency. He is older and has more experience with this issue. And he knows Christ better than I.

We must pray for our parties' nominees - for wisdom, which begins with the fear of God, and for love of all people.

(Let me make a distinction, after all is said and done. It is one thing to vote for a politician in spite of his or her being pro-choice. It is another thing to be a politician and to cast votes against life. These are two very different things, and if you'd like to have that conversation, I would be glad to take it up in the combox.)

Compendium, 1, 1, 2: "God Comes to Meet Man" (10)

10. What is the value of private revelations?

(Catechism 67)
While not belonging to the deposit of faith, private revelations may help a person to live the faith as long as they lead us to Christ. The Magisterium of the Church, which has the duty of evaluating such private revelations, cannot accept those which claim to surpass or correct that definitive Revelation which is Christ.

Private revelation is spoken about from time to time in the Catholic Church - some of it works its way into our liturgy, even, as in the case of St Faustina's vision of Christ's Divine Mercy. But, and this is an important understanding, her vision of Christ's Divine Mercy is able to be incorporated into the liturgy because it is an affirmation of the deposit of faith handed down by the apostles - no one questions the great mercy of Christ. That being said, private revelation, even when given the seal of authenticity after an ecclesial inquiry does not change or add to the deposit of faith. The Church does not have the authority to do so. So though many may pilgrimage to Lourdes to visit the grotto there, and though the Church has authenticated that Marian apparition, the vision does not change the teaching of the Church, but is seen as a help for today - is seen as private. (I might add here that if the vision contravened the deposit of the faith it could not be authenticated by the Magisterium of the Church.)

Most Christians would not question the possibility of private revelation, though I know a few who would. The possibility of private revelation is borne out in smaller ways in our own lives - in little epiphanies that we have as we read the Scriptures, or in the stranger in the grocery store who says the very thing we need to hear the moment we need to hear it, or in the audible voice we hear answer the prayer of our heart. These small illuminations meet a moment, they give hope and encouragement. And we move forward.

Compendium, 1, 1, 2: "God Comes to Meet Man" (6-9)

Jesus is the full and complete revelation of God. Not the canon of the Scriptures, but Jesus. It is perhaps an understood truth, but a distinction worth pointing out. This is why the Catholic Church, and so many other believers, give special reverence to the Gospels. Not because of any difference in level of inspiration or authority, but because of their subject. It is in the Gospels that we are told of the words and work of Christ, it is here that we are shown the life, death and resurrection that purchased for us eternal salvation. The Epistles and Apocalypse are not the fullness, the climax of God's revelation (as a progressive view of revelation that culminates in the canon of God's word rather than in the person of the Word of God demands) - but the fullness of God's revelation is Christ. And just as all of the Old Testament pointed forward to Christ, so the rest of the New Testament points back to him.

I'm including a few sections today because they all speak of God's revelation to man throughout history, culminating in the person of God's Son. God reveals himself to man; God gives himself to man. The revelation of God and the gift of God is himself.

6. What does God reveal to man?

(Catechism 50-53, 68-69)
God in his goodness and wisdom reveals himself. With deeds and words, he reveals himself and his plan of loving goodness which he decreed from all eternity in Christ. According to this plan, all people by the grace of the Holy Spirit are to share in the divine life as adopted “sons” in the only begotten Son of God.

Note the use of "sons" when speaking of our adoption rather than "sons and daughters." This usage is important: We are made "sons" even though we are male and female. Both sexes alike are adopted as "sons" - dependent upon the natural Sonship of Christ. We share in the Sonship of Christ, having a real share in or union with the life of the Blessed Trinity.

7. What are the first stages of God's Revelation?

(Catechism 54-58, 70-71)
From the very beginning, God manifested himself to our first parents, Adam and Eve, and invited them to intimate communion with himself. After their fall, he did not cease his revelation to them but promised salvation for all their descendants. After the flood, he made a covenant with Noah, a covenant between himself and all living beings.

8. What are the next stages of God's Revelation?

(Catechism 59-64, 72)
God chose Abram, calling him out of his country, making him “the father of a multitude of nations” (Genesis 17:5), and promising to bless in him “all the nations of the earth” (Genesis 12:3). The people descended from Abraham would be the trustee of the divine promise made to the patriarchs. God formed Israel as his chosen people, freeing them from slavery in Egypt, establishing with them the covenant of Mount Sinai, and, through Moses, giving them his law. The prophets proclaimed a radical redemption of the people and a salvation which would include all nations in a new and everlasting covenant. From the people of Israel and from the house of King David, would be born the Messiah, Jesus.

9. What is the full and definitive stage of God's Revelation?

(Catechism 65-66, 73)
The full and definitive stage of God’s revelation is accomplished in his Word made flesh, Jesus Christ, the mediator and fullness of Revelation. He, being the only-begotten Son of God made man, is the perfect and definitive Word of the Father. In the sending of the Son and the gift of the Spirit, Revelation is now fully complete, although the faith of the Church must gradually grasp its full significance over the course of centuries.

“In giving us his Son, his only and definitive Word, God spoke everything to us at once in this sole Word, and he has no more to say.” (Saint John of the Cross)