Sacred Music is not about politics

This may or may not be an obvious point, but--the appeal of Gregorian chant and polyphony is not about politics or ideology.

Alas, recent decades have seen a great deal of political/ideological division in the Church, both those related to specific questions of Catholic teaching and practice, as well as those arising from the broader society. And, right or wrong, certain things become identified with such factions.

Here's an example: the practice of concelebration.

At dinner the other night, chatting with a priest from up east, he referred to "concelebration being shoved down our throats"--meaning that those who might be termed "progressive" had done the shoving. That suprised me--I explained that in my diocese, at one time concelebration had been controversial and avoided, for precisely the opposite reason: that it offended some of the more "progressive" folks, apparently because of ordination reserved to men, and that those who were more traditionally-minded count it progress as more concelebration is allowed and practiced.

I.e., there are fault lines and some things end up accidentally on either side. It seems clear to me that sacred music, and even the entire aesthetic of liturgy, are such matters.

At this colloquium, I have spoken to cheerful, self-described "former hippies," who were definitely not Republicans; I just chatted with a gentleman from out west who, at the same time, disagrees with Humanae Vitae (Pope Paul VI's encyclical upholding Church teaching barring artificial means of regulating births), and is deeply devoted to the classic Roman rite, and the sacred music that pertains to it.

I don't know if any other conversations have broached political topics, but I suspect not much--because while many of us might naturally assume, or even hope, that our table companions share our views, on the other hand, we hope in a different way they don't.

Because this isn't about politics. Rather, it is about a treasure of inestimable value (what Vatican II called sacred music, if memory serves) that is our common inheritance.

At the Colloquium

Arrived just fine in D.C. yesterday. In fact, everything went swimmingly until I drove into Georgetown. When coming into D.C. proper from the northwest, it's hard to know just how best to do so. So I came in Clara Barton Parkway, which deposited me on M Street. It took me quite awhile just to get from there to Rhode Island. Next time, I'll go the George Washington Parkway to I-395.

So I went from an early arrival to a barely-on-time arrival; oh well.

Very pleasant session with a group of priests reviewing our parts to chant. (Here's a revelation about how Mass goes when you use really good music, not necessarily chant and polyphony--the priest needn't work so hard. Such was my experience, when I offered Mass for this group last year. Doesn't that sound like "full active and conscious participation?) Also, when you really look at chant, you can see that the designers knew for whom they were designing it! People who may not be musical experts. The difficulty of chant is the shift to a different way of doing things, but once there, it becomes rather easy.

This morning I really slept late, and I had morning prayer and breakfast on my own. I skipped the polyphony choir, for two reasons: I really am not going to be taking any part in polyphony any time soon, plus I needed to do some business. No wireless in the dorm where I'm staying, so I'm connecting via the student center's wi-fi. Have to say, seems slow, and this is summer. But free to me...

The good news here is the response to this event: 140 attendees, which is twice last year's; and at least that many wanted to come, but couldn't due to limit on accommodations. Realize many who came last year weren't going to come this year (which is good; this needs to be more than a club). The folks who attend here are ordinary folks, almost all laity -- indeed, the reaction I keep getting is, "wow, a priest came!" This is not a clerical thing. Truth is, the clergy are going to be some of the major roadblocks, for reasons I explain deep in the last post.

To all you laity pursuing this: keep going, be polite but persistent: your pastors will, in time, find it easier to give you some of what you want than to fight you, and almost all pastors are happy when anyone is doing something, on their own, that doesn't need their constant attention -- they usually will just let you alone, and they will, if they aren't totally hidebound in their own views, give you some opportunities. "Something for everyone."

Headed to D.C. for Sacred Music Colloquium

Very, very early tomorrow I'll drive to D.C. for the CMAA Sacred Music colloquium, which I attended last year and blogged about. This year, the music director for the two parishes here will join me--in fact, he quickly signed up, and because I did so rather late, it rather looked as though I would not make it. I'll be there through the weekend, and--a shout-out to friends in the area--I hope we can get together. I may stay around a day or two for some of that.

This is a small but significant movement, indicating something important happening more broadly in the life of the Catholic Church in our country. What do I mean?

> The re-integration of timeless, venerable, deeply meaningful and beautiful liturgical music into the general experience of American Catholics. I mean principally chant and polyphony.

> A re-thinking more broadly about the liturgy. What's really interesting is that some of the grumbling comes from those who see themselves heirs of the old "Liturgical Movement" which arose in the 20th Century, and led to the Council's liturgical work, are now the "old guard" who swat at anyone associated with the "New Liturgical Movement" (a term coined by our holy father, before he was pope, by the way), and ludicrously call them...wait for it: "reactionaries." Hahahaha! I mean, you have to say it: "you wanted liturgical reconsideration, re-evaluation...well, you got it!"

> Most fundamentally, the reconsideration just how to interpret what Vatican II truly means. The best summary of this is expressed by two high-faluting terms: a "hermeneutic of rupture" vs. a "hermeneutic of continuity."

Now, the next 10 paragraphs or so, I will explain some of this, because most folks don't spend time on these subjects. But you may want to skip down for the "so what" question.

"Hermeneutic" means method or principles of how something is interpreted--each of us sees things through some interpretive "lens." In social and political discussions we do this all the time. Martin Sheen came to Dayton recently to visit a homeless shelter, and looking at signs of increased need, seems to think government should do more. Someone else, beholding the very same facts, can just as reasonably conclude government should do less; or, perhaps, the futility of seeking further solutions along that route. The reason this is important to point out is that once people in a political discussion actually notice they are looking through different "lenses," and they start talking about that--that's when the really interesting conversation begins.

Well, that's where we are -- or rather, perhaps and hopefully, where we are soon to be -- regarding Vatican II and the life of the Church as most Catholics experience it. Again, that will be more fruitful, if we can have that conversation, than many of the contentious discussions we've had in recent years about the Council, the liturgy, devotion, discipline in the Church, etc.

The "hermeneutic of rupture" views Vatican II as essentially a break with the past, and it has been the dominant, if not all but exclusive, way of viewing the Council. Very curiously (but not surprising to me, from my political background), it is something that bitter enemies agree on! I.e., both the "progressive" crowd at one extreme, and the "traditional" crowd at the other, both insist on this motif. The "progressive" end does so to justify a marginalization of what went before the Council, even to the point of a kind of test of orthodoxy! I.e., if you don't agree with marginalizing the old, if you like it too much, doubt is actively cast on your "commitment to the Church of today." The "traditional" end does so to justify rejecting Vatican II, and a whole train of reaction comes in its wake, moving in both directions along the timeline: you have "traditionalists" who find less and less to like since the Council; and you have those who, seeking to explain this catastrophe (as they see it), go looking for antecedents -- and some things I've read see them as far back as Pius X and Leo XIII, a reasonable hypothesis, if they were right about the Council.

As I say, this hermeneutic has been overwhelmingly dominant, too often without much serious reflection. When you have DREs, catechists, liturgists, priests, teachers, and therefore, the faithful, continually speaking of two churches, before and after the Council, you see my point.

The problem is, there is but One Church; or, there is No Church. I mean that the Catholic Church--if she is who we profess her to be, must be essentially one, or it is none. Meaning however apparent and interesting the "discontinuities" in relation to the Council's impact, the continuities are vastly more significant. And we risk a grave misunderstanding of the Church and of Christ's promises to the Church, if we miss that.

Example: so-called traditionalists who are lurching into very odd ecclesiology: they seem to do just fine without a pope, they -- I mean the most extreme fringe -- are on the verge of forgetting about the papacy altogether, as they approach a half-century without a valid pope. (Some claim Pius XII, who died in 1958, was last validly chosen pope, others, John XXIII, who died in 1963. If there are other variations, it isn't important for our discussions here--other than that this bizarre idea has taken root among those who call themselves "traditional.") A broader, damaging effect I believe is that many, if not most, Catholics have almost lost touch with the profound revelation that the Church is far more than an "institution," but is really a supernatural, organic being: "the Body of Christ." A sound understanding of the true identity of the Church cuts through all the issues of "what about what happened in history," and all the "what becomes of Protestants, Hindus and atheists?" and all the superficial "two church" discussions of Vatican II.

...Which is why the "two church" motif, the "hermeneutic of discontinuity"* is going to defend it's ground tenaciously. Because when you reconsider the whole mindset, the questions being raised about the liturgy, past, present and future, take on a vastly more significance. A lot of what has taken hold has little to justify it if the hermeneutic of continuity is applied. I.e., it's not even a question of, "should we have Mass entirely with Latin and chant" but merely, "how can we justify having Mass from which such elements are banished? When you see the Church as continually "reinvented," who cares?

There is a seemingly unassailable argument: "you can't turn back the clock," aka, "those days will never return," or "its too late" or "the Church as a whole just won't go there." Set aside the very specious "turn back" and "go back" stuff. Really, that is not an argument. If "going back" is a bad thing, then first, recall that much of the justification for Vatican II's reforms was, precisely, "going back" to truths and practices of long ago, that had been obscured or forgotten! How many know that? Read the documents, particularly on Christian initiation--it's all about "going back"! Second, if "going back" is bad, then toss out the Scriptures, for heaven's sake!

Also, this sort of argument makes assertions about the future that no one but God can meaningfully make. I simply have too little information to know what can, and cannot, happen. I think we do better to leave that to God, or history, or however you want to describe what will determine future outcomes. Even our recent history is punctuated by events and outcomes that smart people all said would never happen. Reagan was being foolish and dangerous in saying, "tear down this wall." The Zionist movement was ridiculous. Hitler was no one to take seriously. The sunny, almost euphoric anticipation of the future, as viewed by the world powers, circa 1900, as they looked ahead to the coming century. Abolish the slave trade, Mr. Wilberforce? Don't be daft. And so it goes.

Now, some might wonder what I think is the practical effect of all this.

Some will say, how naive, he thinks this will sweep the nation. No, I don't. I do not see any imminent upheaval or dramatic change in Catholic liturgy in this country. But remember, the idea of "revolution" did not always mean "upheaval," but recall it's meaning in astronomy--a gradual, orderly turning. Nothing to be afraid of. And such an outcome may, perhaps, be coming. God alone knows. But the "sit down and accept the inevitable" argument doesn't wash.

Others will get rather frightened. I had a parishioner who told me she knew that what I had in mind was making the whole Mass in Latin. She was sure of it. Nevermind I have no such intention, and have said nothing of the sort, and have explicitly said otherwise. She told me, that's what she "read between the lines."

Of course, one of the shocks for some people is merely to discover that Vatican II never abolished the use of Latin, even for the entirety of the Mass. So I have no power, other than arbitrary, to promise we'll "never have" an all-Latin Mass. I.e., I've raised the possibility of a periodic weekday Mass mostly in Latin, but haven't done it; the cardinal in charge of liturgy in Rome, Arinze, himself said a Sunday Mass in Latin, in parishes, would be a good idea. Will that come? I don't have a crystal ball. All I can say is that is an extremely ambitious thing, and I am aiming for vastly more humble things. And everything we have done, I've told people we were going to do. Use a bit of Latin, more than in the past.

So...back to the question more practical folks may ask: "who cares?"

This is what is going on in the life of our Church. It may not be the task of most parishioners to wrestle with these things, but it is the task of our pope, our bishops, and to some degree, our pastors. In a word--we have to get these things right! I mean, maybe we should never have had the Council, okay, that's an argument (not mine, by the way). But we did! Now, we have to think about what the Council said, what the fact of it happening, meant, and try to get it right. And we're going to have several "drafts" of that. You and I are working on, perhaps, the "second draft" of "implementing Vatican II. Sorry, you don't do that very quickly.

So, this is happening, and it's going to keep happening for our lifetimes. And many may not know a hermeneutic from a Herman Munster, but they do want to know what's going on with the Mass. They do want to know why their pastor thinks its important to use Latin, to do more than the minimum.

Does it matter?

Honestly, the answer could be, No, it doesn't. That is a possible answer. Because, after all, it may be just what a brother priest said to me--I am not making this up--that it "doesn't matter" to Jesus whether we use bread and wine, why not something else? Maybe it really doesn't matter if we have the Eucharist, if we have Mass--at all? Why should pouring water and saying words...matter? Why should muttering words in the ears of a priest, and his words back, matter? A smear of oil on the forehead? Who cares?

I really don't know what you believe about such things. But as Christians, and moreso, as Catholics, we believe God became a human being, according to his plan and providence. He chose to make certain things matter. He chose the elements and essential form of the sacraments, and he chose the form of the the Church. And he is the Lord of providence; the Holy Spirit, despite all other commentary, is the pilot of the Church's navigation of the perilous seas of history, and without being able to express just why, it remains intensely intuitive that how that actually happened, in the vast bulk of our history, cannot and must not be simply...set aside! I mean THE LITURGY.

Our seminarians, staying with us this summer, recently cleaned up the church basement. The easy thing would be simply, "throw it all out." But I said, no, we have to figure out carefully what to keep, what to throw away. Humility says, "I may see no reason to keep this, but time may eventually show me what I couldn't see." This is how church basements get to be such messes; yet St. Mary's did need attention. The same is even more true with the liturgy, which is, after all, miraculously bound up with the Divine in a way that church basements almost never are.

As a pastor, it really would be easier to ignore it all. That is what a lot of pastors are doing. And I don't blame them, there is so much else we can fruitfully do, it's not as though they are inactive. It would be easier to wait until "higher ups" insisted on this or that, so that when folks grumble, as they will, over "more change," the pastor can point somewhere else. Again, no blame--because you can only fight so many battles at a time, so maybe other pastors have chosen better than I, in postponing grappling with these liturgical issues.

My approach is, right or wrong, to raise the question, and to invite parishioners to join the discussion--but not in terms of liking or not liking this or that, although that's very understandable. But would it shock you if I said there are things I don't like about the liturgy, as it is? As I'm expected to celebrate it? Shall I act on what I like, rather than what I believe the Church expects, and in some cases, mandates? So why do I ask the same of parishioners? Welcome to the priesthood of all believers, a la Vatican II!

We're going to have a series of talks beginning July 23 on the holy father's recent exhortation on the Eucharist; and it will include reference to Vatican II materials, the current norms, and the pope's other writings on the liturgy. There will be discussion most welcome, but the focus is what the Church calls for, and what the successor to Peter teaches.

* I changed this to discontinuity to correct an obvious error (MEF 7:45 pm).

Justified by Faith (Sunday homily)

St. Paul uses a word we don’t often hear.
A moment ago, we heard it four times: justification.

We often use that word to mean "excuse" or explanation:
At school, the principal might ask you,
"So, what’s your justification for being late?"

What St. Paul means is something different:
how you and I are made just or righteous.

Notice what else he said:
None of us is "justified"—made just—
"by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ."

As Catholics, we are strong on "works"—
mercy and charity, like the Bethany Center;
social activism, like the prolife movement.

And, we have lots of religious "works"—
that is, rituals and requirements:
Mass every Sunday and holy day;
frequent confession;
daily prayer and acts of penance;
a season of penance every Lent.

Yet St. Paul says: we are not justified by our works,
but by faith in Jesus Christ.

I know what you are thinking.
"Wait a minute. Doesn’t Scripture also say,
‘faith without works is dead’"?

And, yes it does.
So, what do we make of this?

It is Faith that saves us, but not faith alone;
because how can genuine Faith in Jesus
fail to result in action? In a changed life?

And, in terms of our practices as Catholics:
our rules and practices have meaning,
because they show us how to live our faith;
they give it shape.

Still, as St. Paul said: the starting-point is faith;
the heart of the matter is faith.

Many of us like to go to Home Depot,
so we can "do it yourself."
But that’s not how it works.

The starting-point is faith—faith in Jesus Christ!

So, now, you might ask,
"all right, just what do you mean by faith?"
And, may I say? You ask really good questions!

To answer, let me say two things.
First: faith is an act of self-gift, of trust, of surrender.

Faith is a whole lot more than a mere belief,
such as: "I believe Jesus exists";
Faith is a choice, a radical choice:
I turn myself over to Jesus.
That is what the woman in the Gospel did,
and that is what Paul described:
"I have been crucified with Christ."

So, faith is surrender…
and second, faith is a gift.

Don’t think that first, you have faith,
and then, God responds with his grace.
It’s the other way round:
first, God gives you grace,
so that you realize how much you need him;
then, you choose; you say: "Jesus, I trust in you!"
or you say, "No, Jesus, I think I’m doing okay on my own."

Do you think you simply chose to come here today.
It’s not that simple.
God was acting to make it happen,
so that you would receive this invitation:

Will you put your faith in Jesus Christ?
Will you surrender your will to his?
Will you ask for the gift of faith,
allow the Holy Spirit to lead,
go wherever he says, do what he prompts,
and give up whatever must be given up?

You are here because
God wanted you to receive that invitation,
and I have just given it!
So when I said, God acts first, with his grace—
this is how it works!

You and I received the gift of his justification in baptism;
but we came to a point where we chose to make it our own;
and we need to renew it, constantly:
that is why we go to confession,
and that is why we need the Eucharist.

This is our moment to do a check—where do we stand?
Can we truly say, with Paul:
"It is no longer I who lives, but Christ who lives in me"?

An experiment with a sung Mass with more Latin

On the Vigil of Ss. Peter and Paul, we will try something, and see how it goes, and who comes.

We'll have a sung Mass, with more Latin: most likely, we'll sing the Gloria, Credo, Sanctus and Agnus Dei. The music director is welcome to prepare anything else, but that should be enough of a challenge for the choir, who he says is eager to try this. I will probably pray the propers and the Eucharistic Prayer in English; the readings and homily, of course, in English too! I'm undecided about the Pater Noster, as that may be harder, insofar as the English chant differs, and I wouldn't want to mix them up; plus, people would want to sing that themselves.

Anyway, there might be folks who want to experience this, so Mass will be at St. Mary Parish, 528 Broadway, Piqua, Ohio, Thursday June 28, 7 pm.

A different kind of busy week

This week, all the active priests of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati are expected to be present at a three-day convocation, in Dublin, Ohio, outside Columbus. Retired priests are invited, but not required, to come. These happen every five years, and their purpose is some intensive learning or collaboration on some particular topic or concern. Last time the focus was dealing with pastoral responsibilities in a time of not enough priests. This time -- my first -- the topic is "The Spirituality of Managing Change."

So we arrived Monday afternoon, had pictures taken for a directory, and had a social, dinner, and our first session. Several sessions on Tuesday, with an evening off. Today it is sessions all day. These are punctuated by prayer and Mass.

As with this sort of thing -- which is like a convention -- the non-official stuff is useful and important. Many may not realize that we don't all know each other, and we don't often see one another outside of a special Mass or a penance service. So a lot of getting acquainted and so forth. Also, the archdiocese is about 100 miles from north-to-south, so those of us in one region are less well informed about the doings in others.

Meanwhile, there is some down time, and while the schedule has us in sessions all day, this isn't nearly as stressful or demanding as what usually arises in the parish. So I always bring along extra work, stuff I never seem to get to in the parish. I brought a large bin that is my "to read" file; and I have emptied it out, whittling it down to a very small pile of items needing either action, filing, or still to read. I brought along the holy father's exhortation, Sacramentum Caritatis, and have finished outlining the talks I am preparing (I have written four talks, and I can now write up the other two). I've given some thought to Sunday's readings, and some other matters deserving some consideration.

Now, as to what awaits me upon my return tomorrow afternoon? I'll find out soon enough.

Corpus Christi Hymns of St. Thomas Aquinas

After the last Mass today, chatting with the music director, I mentioned how the "golden oldie" hymns associated with the Eucharist come from this feast, and were written by St. Thomas Aquinas. And several are still in the Office which we still pray:

Vespers hymn: Pange Lingue Gloriosi -- used also on Holy Thursday, and the last two stanzas begin, "Tantum Ergo...".

Matins (Office of Readings) hymn: Sacriis Sollemniis -- a hymn I imagine almost no one has heard of -- until you get to the last two stanzas (stanzae?): "Panis angelicus"!

Lauds (Morning prayer) hymn: Verbum Supernum, again not so familiar...until the last two stanzae: "O Salutaris Hostia..."! (Was it customary, in the years prior to the unfortunate abandonment of all Latin, if the hymn was too long for parishes, merely to sing the latter two verses, which is why they are so familiar? Does anyone know?)

Mass: Lauda Sion a sequence now optional, and which is very long; it was recited, at least a shorter section of it, at several Masses here. (I did not have anyone recite it, because I would prefer to have it sung; reciting sequences seems rather limp. That said, if they are required, they get recited if they can't be sung.)

Also, he wrote Adore te Devote, which I find very beautiful; but if written for this feast, I'm not sure how it was used. (Remember, hymns are not the norm for Mass; rather, psalm-based chants are called for at the opening, offertory and communion processions, and there is no post-communion or closing hymn really called for in the Mass. The chants fell out of use somewhere along the line. I don't know how widely used they were before the Council, but because only the refrain was translated in the revised Mass -- that's the "entrance antiphon" that appears in the missallette -- it isn't practical to use as intended; and the closing hymn is just something that came in at some point.)

I can't find that he wrote any other hymns for the Office of Corpus et Sanguinis Christi -- nothing for the little office we now call Midday Prayer, or for Compline, or Night Prayer. Does anyone know?

Melchizedek pointed ahead, and so do you (Homily for Corpus et Sanguinis Christi)

During the readings, I imagine you wondered, "Who is this ‘Melchizedek’ fellow?

He was a curious, shadowy, figure: a king and a priest, whose origins no one knew.

He brought an offering of bread and wine.
He blessed Abraham and all his descendants.

Who is Melchizedek? He is the hint, the suggestion, of what would come: Jesus Christ.
> Jesus, the eternal Son of God, who has no beginning or end;
> Jesus, the first and true priest of all Creation;
> Jesus, the rightful king of the universe;
> Jesus, who offers the new and everlasting sacrifice that is a blessing to all humanity.

Melchizedek pointed forward to something greater; and so do we.
You and I are the image, the sign, for our time, that points ahead to the reality
still of what is yet to come, a reality that is vaster and greater
than anyone can possibly imagine!

This is why, the language we use as Christians is full of power even if we don’t realize it.

It would be like a story where everyone called a girl a princess—
only to find out that she really was!

Here’s an example: we use the term, Body of Christ, to speak of both the Eucharist,
as well as ourselves? Do we really think we are the same?

I bet you’d say, no—I’m not God! I’m not Jesus—no one falls to his knees before me!

That’s all true. And yet—when you and I call the Eucharist, as well as ourselves,
"the Body of Christ— we are, in fact, describing the same reality!

Because the Eucharist we adore and receive is already, and completely,
the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ; while you and are still "in process."

Here is the Body of Christ (the Cross),
Here is the Body of Christ (the Eucharist);
and here is the Body of Christ (the people).

This Cross is a sign of what Jesus did for us—
as well of what a lot of Christ’s Body is still going through.
The Eucharist is Jesus, truly and really here, but also a beacon, a lifeline, connecting us—
the ones who are "under construction"—to the reality that, for us, still lies ahead.

This is what St. Thomas Aquinas said: the Eucharist is "the pledge of future glory."
Glory for whom? Glory for us!

I said a moment ago that you and I, in calling ourselves the Body of Christ,
may not think we’re the same as the Eucharist— and of course, we’re not.

Not yet! But it is what lies ahead for us.

No one said it better than St. Augustine:

If you want to understand the body of Christ,
listen to the apostle telling the faithful,
"You, though, are the body of Christ and its members."
So if it's you that are the body of Christ
and its members, it's the mystery that means you.

It is to what you are that you reply "Amen,"
and by so replying you express your assent.
What you hear, you see, is "The body of Christ,"
and you answer, "Amen."

So be a member of the body of Christ,
in order to make the Amen true.

Reality is a harsh mistress

Poor Paris Hilton just found out that reality is, well, real.

The saga of this young lady has been splashed all about the media, surely you don't need me to recap it here?

I considered the image of this young woman, blessed with youth, inheritance, social advantage, good looks, and I suppose talent, weeping as she faces punishment for her own actions: she initially broke the law, driving drunk, and endangering the public, then treated the initial, sentence with contempt. In the courtroom, she wanted her parents to rescue her, she prayed, and then screamed and wailed as sentence was decisively given.

And my thought was, here it is: this is a vivid icon, in terms we can all understand, of the clash between wishes and reality. Except it's not a clash: reality always wins.

Often enough, those who point out the hard edges and normative cause-and-effect of reality, when it comes to family, upbringing, personal choices in life, are told they are unsympathetic, lacking in understanding. The more important fact is that many people cannot bear to face the truth, many others do not want to be the ones to point it out, especially when, in order to make it clear, one has to be rather blunt.

It is not for lack of sympathy that I observe -- from my understanding of the facts -- that this young lady pretty much had this coming. And her best course is to see this rough series of events as a true grace, a wake-up call that can spare her even worse heartaches to come.

Why is she crying? Because people are so mean, so uncaring? Or because there came a point when she could no longer be shielded from reality?

Jesus is the Bridge, the Holy Spirit is the Change (Homily for Holy Trinity)

Some people wonder why it is important
to believe God is a Trinity.
They might say,
“I believe in God, that’s what’s important.”

To which I would reply:
“Do you believe in Jesus Christ?
“Do you believe Jesus is—as we pray in our Creed—
“true God from true God…one in being with the Father”?

Because if God is not a Trinity, Jesus is not God.
And then Jesus no longer bridges the gap
between God and us.

You see, everyone who believes in God
realizes how utterly different and apart from us he is.
This is where we get the idea of “fear of God.”
It makes sense. God can, indeed, be frightening.

When I was a boy, there were three elderly sisters
in the house next to ours.
Nobody saw them much, but when you did,
they were yelling or being mean.

As you can imagine, as kids we traded stories
of the witchy things we were sure went on in that house!

Well, some years later, one of the sisters died,
and after that, the other two were different—
they would smile and wave—and before you know it,
we’d actually been inside their house—
there was nothing mysterious.
Just two, frail old women, needing some help.

In that case, the gap was easily bridged.

But the gap between us and God is very different.
Only God can bridge that.

Jesus is the Bridge.*
And if Jesus is not both God and man—
then there is no bridge,
and the vast, un-crossable gulf remains.

Now, what about the Holy Spirit?

Jesus has bridged the chasm; at last, we can cross over!
But still, on either side, are two different “countries.”

As a seminarian, I spent a month in South Korea.
It was a great experience—but a very different culture.
They were very hospitable;
but still, it was hard to feel totally at home there.

That happens right here at home.
We have divisions of race and class—
and people tend to stay “with their own.”

So, even with a bridge, something else has to change hearts and minds to bring both sides together.

We don’t need heaven to become more like earth—
but we do need earth—and all of us—
to become like heaven.

And so Jesus brought the Spirit from the Father:
Jesus is The Bridge; the Holy Spirit is the Change.

You could even call it a kind of “Invasion”—
that’s how the great author C.S. Lewis described it
in his book, Mere Christianity.

He called this world “Enemy-occupied territory”;
and “Christianity is the story of how the rightful king
has landed, you might say…in disguise,
and is calling us all to take part
in a great campaign of sabotage.

”When you go to church you are really listening-in
to the secret wireless from our friends:
that is why the enemy is so anxious
to prevent us from going.”
There is our purpose:
To share the Change the Spirit brings;
to draw people across the Bridge—Jesus—
to live with the Father.

Do you see why being a Christian
not only means believing differently,
but just as much, living differently?
Some of the choices are hard—
that’s the Change the Holy Spirit brings.

And we come to communion because we have chosen:
we’re not with the world that resists change;
we are part of the Kingdom of Jesus—
that is, his Church.

And do you see, now, how a prayer
we may take for granted—the Sign of the Cross—
is so important?
For one, it is a summary of our whole Faith
For another: it is the Banner, the Sign, of his Kingship!

Never be afraid to make the Sign of the Cross;
tell the whole world
where our salvation, and theirs, comes from:
“In the Name of the Father,
and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

* For the second week in a row, unawares I used an image that comes from one of the saints; this week it was from St. Catherine of Siena, who described Our Lord as "the Bridge." Many times I pick up ideas but cannot recall where.

A good week...

I think I've said this before: a perhaps dismaying, but real measure of a "good week" for a pastor is how full his trash can is. Because a large part of my job is, to put it simply, getting paper off my desk.

This afternoon, my trash can was stuffed, and I have one more day to go this week (Saturday is always a work day).

That said, I still have plenty in "The Pile": many personal thank-you letters to write, some many months old; many calls I need to make; several other odds and ends.

Then there's a very large "to read" pile: this is stuff that doesn't need any other action.

Then there's my office itself, which needs some re-organization--my files need to be re-rationalized, and I'd like to paint the walls (they are the color of Pepto-Bismol that has spilled and been cleaned up) and finally put all my books on the shelves, and hang my pictures. Only been here two years (but I didn't know if my office would stay where it was, or not, until last summer)...

A rare event: I cooked!

Tonight, we had a nice dinner at the priests' house in Piqua.

It has become a bit of a joke that I never cook, and in the main, that's true. Going back some years, I got out of the habit of cooking.

But I do know how.

A bit of background. As those of you who spend way too much time online know, I moved recently to the priests' house at St. Mary; meaning, now the vicar and I are sharing quarters. (For the prior year-and-a-half, I lived by myself.) Also, since Mothers' Day, we have had two seminarians staying here. So, that means four men--a full house (very different from living alone).

So...more emphasis, all of a sudden, on common meals, and that sort of thing.

Well, the seminarians happen to be handy in the kitchen, and they have turned out nice meals. So, of course, the pastor wants to do his part (the vicar, who is a few years older than I, is smart enough not to care either way, so he is happy when anyone cooks).

So I said, last week: "I'll cook dinner next Tuesday." And, I said, I would cook rabbit.

I've never cooked rabbit, but a family that raises them, gave me one, and I promptly popped it in the freezer (it was already dead, have no fear, and skinned). And I have been wanting to fix it.

Well...turns out Tuesday wouldn't work; we had a Mass for the 8th graders. Wednesday wouldn't work, because of confessions-Mass-Bible-study. Normally Thursday wouldn't work, because Thursday is normally meeting night...

Ah, but this month, it was the fifth Thursday! (That means, no meeting! Eureka!)

So, tonight, I cooked dinner:

Rabbit braised and baked with onion and butter
Rabbit gravy (no one else touched it, but it was good!)
Peas and carrots
Baked potatoes
Chardonnay*

(And, in the event anyone didn't like rabbit, I also cooked some pork chops, that looked really good, but we never touched!)

Well, it was rather good; only two little legs of poor Bugs is left, but all four pork chops are, as I say, untouched. The vicar, who is a fine man and priest, and the two seminarians and I, had a nice discussion around the table, which is always so nice, too.

We finished off with some dessert: we had a pie someone gave us, some of us had that; I had ice cream, and one of the seminarians -- a dedicated fellow -- went for a run.

This is the blessing of the fifth week of a month: no meetings! Deo gratias!

* I know what you're thinking--shouldn't it have been red or rose? Well, I rather thought so, too; but that is what we had.

Sorry, Pentecost is done, Easter Season is over, move along now...

...So the color switches to green, which signifies growing.

Pentecost in Piqua

In a bit, the Easter Season will be rung to a close (when the pastor leads -- or prays on his own -- Second Vespers). Of course, the various decorations will be attended to tomorrow or Tuesday. I am reminded I have to dig out my ordinary-time breviary, which -- since I moved recently, and have packed things up -- may be hard to do. The Latin Sanctus will, as planned, take a rest -- we used it from the first Sunday of Lent until Pentecost. Overall there was good participation, clearly more at some Masses than others. If there was anyone still saying, "we don't know this," all I can reply is, that's because all this time you refused to participate in a good spirit, and that's a shame. The Easter Candle moves, and we'll reduce the number of candles.

Oh, and of course I did the fancy dismissal, but not at the Vigil, I think it's only called for on the day.

If you click on the link to your right, indicating our music ministry, you can see the music that was planned. Our fine music director made some last-minute changes, at least at the Masses I celebrated, so I don't know what became to the opening hymn he had in mind. I am sure he has a good reason. The choir did do a nice setting of Veni Creator Spiritus -- not the entire prayer, but a repetition of that theme. Not the Taize chant either.

We sang the sequence at most Masses. The Adult Faith Formation committee did invite folks to wear red, so a number did so. Both churches wore red -- a bit more at St. Boniface (the martyr). Both churches had plenty of tongues of fire (candles). When I saw an item online about the dropping of red rose petals into the Pantheon (now Sta Maria ad Matyres), I was a bit envious, and also thinking, hmmm, could we do that?

Thanks to the seminarians, we had incense at all "my" Masses. And I was -- as I like to tell the kids, a "sing-a-saurus." I chanted the Gospel, and at one Mass, chanted the entire Eucharistic Prayer (Roman Canon of course, given the day), and parts of at another Mass.

The challenge, of course, with Pentecost is that it is a longer Mass, but I'm not sure folks expect that and are mentally prepared for it. On the other hand, Pentecost ranks as one of the three or four most significant feasts (along with Christmas, Epiphany and Easter), so should be treated as such, I think.

We also had prayer cards to give to folks, each one having a gift of the Spirit--everyone got a different "gift."

At St. Boniface, the major components of the new sound system were in place, for their first full use. It seemed they needed some fine-tuning, especially at the 10:30 Mass, when there was very high-pitched feedback happening somewhere. I said the new system was so good, it picks up the angels!

I am sorry to say we missed out on the plenary-indulgenced singing of the Veni Creator Spiritus, but I didn't get with our music director in time, that was my fault.

But there's always next year, along with the rose petals!

'Lord send out your Spirit'--yes we mean it! (Pentecost homily)

When I meet with 8th-graders, preparing for confirmation,
I quiz them a little.
Well, now it’s your turn, get ready!

Think about the images of the Holy Spirit—
the various symbols or signs associated with the Spirit.

Who thought of the image of the dove?
How about the image of water?
How about Fire?
The image of Wind, or Breath?

Another one is the image or symbol of anointing—
Anointing with oil, anointing with the Spirit.

Well, there are more—but let’s stick with these.

Fire, Water, Wind…

Recall that in the ancient world,
people saw the world made up of four elements:
Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire.
And note: three of those are symbols of the Holy Spirit;
The last one, earth? That is a symbol of us.

Remember how God formed Adam…
from the dust of the earth.
But then, God breathed into Adam the breath of life.
Also, the dust of the earth, without water,
cannot grow anything. There is no life.

So the meaning of Water and Wind
as symbols of the Holy Spirit is that they give Life.

Now, we might think of natural life;
but the Holy Spirit is supernatural life.
Natural life lasts for a time, but ends.
Natural life grows for awhile, gets better and better;
Then peaks and ebbs away.

Not so the Life of the Spirit.
Supernatural life never ends.

There’s another comparison
between natural and supernatural life.

Natural life features its own special joys—
and heartbreak and suffering.
When people we love, die;
When bad things happen to good people;
When we sin, when we are humbled by our faults;
when the trials of life leave their mark on us.

The contrast is not so much that, in the life to come,
we have none of those things.
Because, in a way, we do.

Recall—when our Lord rose from the dead:
Were the wounds he suffered on Calvary gone?
They were not!

He showed his wounds to his disciples.
He still bore his wounds—
But they were no longer wounds of death,
They are wounds that signify life.

When you and I allow the Holy Spirit to govern our lives,
Our wounds, our pains, do not magically disappear,

They remain—but they are transformed,
to be part of his life-giving plan.

Think of how many people have helped us,
when we’re in trouble—
out of their own trials, experience and hope.

And this is a good time to think about the Holy Eucharist.
The ordinary bread and wine that will come to this altar,
represent all the stuff of our ordinary lives,
Including our work, our gifts…
Also our trials and pains…
Also our failures, even our sinfulness.
We give it over to the Lord for him to transform.

Speaking of the Eucharist…
The wheat, has to be crushed…
Then, what do you add to the flour?
Water!

And what takes the dough, and makes bread?

Heat—Fire!

In a similar way, we offer our lives to the Lord,
And the Water of Life, the Fire of the Spirit,
Transforms us, into his true Body!

This is what the Holy Spirit does on the altar, at Mass;
And it is what the Holy Spirit
came on Pentecost to do in us!

So that we, made of earth, have life;
Tried by Fire, we become something beautiful.

One more thing.
Recall the psalm we sang; it is a prayer:
“Lord, send out your Spirit,
and renew the face of the earth.”

God doesn’t force his salvation on us.
We can choose to live by the Spirit, or not.

When we asked the Holy Spirit to renew the earth,
that includes, that begins, with us.

Do you mean it?

Are you sure?

Be careful what you ask for!

If you really want the Spirit to renew you, to change you,
to remold and re-make you…

He will do it!

Let’s pray it together:

“Lord, send out your Spirit,
and renew the face of the earth.”

Resources on Pastoral Councils

I know many who read my blog are active parishioners, and some are pastors, surely with more experience than I have. So this is, what do folks call it? A "bleg" (a blog-beg, I think that means).

I have two parish pastoral councils, and I think it would be well to provide them with some "how to be a pastoral council" materials. Of course, I want to read and learn from such materials, first.

Any recommendations?

Sadly, some of the goofiness that has crept into parish life -- in liturgy, or catechetics, also finds its way into this sort of thing. This is why I'm seeking input, because I really don't want to waste my time with anything that reflects a problematic agenda or faulty understanding of the governance of the Church.

Feel free to suggest books, pamphlets or websites, and I'll check them out.

If you have actual experience to cite with any materials put into use, that's always helpful.

What I'm working on...

Some time back, I mentioned in a homily, and I think also in the parish bulletins, that I'd like to have a series of evenings at which I'd lead an examination and discussion of the holy father's recent exhortation, Sacramentum Caritatis.

What makes this even more relevant is not only that some liturgical matters in the parishes here have occasioned some questions and for some, both praise and objection, but also, beyond Piqua, there are liturgical matters being widely discussed, having to do with the Mass, various developments here and there, rumors of change, actual change in process, and thus questions of what all this is about.

So--on my vacation/retreat, I read the holy father's exhortation, and I re-read his Spirit of the Liturgy from AD 2000, and a couple of other works on the Mass that I happened to have, unread, on my shelf.

Yesterday and today I spent several hours fleshing out material for at least the first two talks, which would cover the first third of the exhortation.

The hard part, of course, is going to find time to do this for the rest of it--because I've deliberately been away from the office yesterday and today; that changes tomorrow. But I'm hoping the good start I've made will help me keep going.

The central part of the document may be where we have the most discussion, since it concerns "a mystery to be celebrated" -- i.e., how the Mass is offered and why we do it certain ways. In this context, I plan to touch on all those issues that -- on one level shouldn't be that important -- and yet, end up being subjects of great discussion: why this music? Why chant? Why sing? Why do Mass a certain way? Etc. For that section, I intend not only to draw on the holy father's exhortation, but also on his Spirit of the Liturgy and also the relevant Vatican II documents, and probably the General Instruction.

When all is ready--God knows when that will be!--I will schedule the talks, and then, once they are given, I plan to post the text online, not only for the benefit of my readers, but particularly for those parishioners who can't be present when we have the session. And of course, I have to give my parishioners plenty of notice for when this will all happen, since this is all primarily for their benefit.

But this is far enough along that I'm willing to commit myself to this, publicly -- i.e., by this post! After all, if all else fails, I could still do a presentation on the material without writing up a text suitable for publication, but more preparation will make for better content and discussion, so I'm aiming for that.

At this point, I don't imagine actually beginning the series until late June, and I may decide to wait until the fall. The upside of waiting is that more folks will benefit after summer is over; the downside is that there are more things scheduled starting in the fall, so I'll have more competition on the calendar. I look forward to the advice of parishioners and some of the more active collaborators in parish ministry here to give me their feedback on that issue.

Secret's out...I'm back

I tried to sneak back into town last night. Didn't work. When I stopped by the office to pick up some work to look at this morning, I ran into the couple that cleans the office. "Don't tell anyone you saw me!" (Part of the reason I didn't want to be seen was my scruffy attempt at a beard.)

Then I pulled in at the priests' house; wondering why so many cars were in the parking lot, I remembered the special Mass for those in the RCIA. I really didn't want them to see me looking so scraggly. Unfortunately, they all came out the door just as I walked by. "Keep my secret!"

Then, this morning, I had a few conversations about parish business, and had a visitation at a funeral home this evening, and a funeral tomorrow.

By the way, I shaved the bush off my face today, and feel much better; I really didn't care for it.

Excellent GOP analysis from Instapundit

I seldom link it, but I check Instapundit at least daily. In addition to all his other gifts, Glenn Reynolds is brief (alas, a gift I usually lack). Here's one of his lengthier posts, and it's dead-on:

SAXBY CHAMBLISS was booed at a GOP convention over the immigration bill. The big problem for the GOP leadership is that they've lost their credibility. And they still don't understand it. This was clear a year ago when we talked to then-GOP chair Ken Mehlman, and it's much, much truer now. As a reader emails: "No credibility to fall back on. No reserve of good will to fall back on. No record to fall back on. No successes to fall back on."

And as Dan Riehl said earlier this week, Republicans were given a wakeup call with the 2006 elections, and they opted to hit snooze.

I still don't know enough to know if the bill is good or bad. But if the bill is actually a good bill that the GOP base would accept if they read it . . . then that's an even bigger indictment of the GOP leadership for failing to sell it. At this point, they've either mis-sold a good bill, or produced a bad one.

More retreat reading: Know Him in the Breaking of the Bread

I saw this title mentioned at Rich Leonardi's Ten Reasons some time back as perhaps an accessible book for most Catholics explaining the Mass. So I ordered it, to see if it would be workable to recommend to my parishioners.

I found it a quick read--I went through it in a couple of hours this afternoon on the beach; so, yes, I'd call it "accessible." Still, it covers a fair amount of ground in 200+ pages, not only the Mass from beginning to end, but some about Eucharistic adoration, about using Latin in the Mass, about Vatican II and the changes that came in its wake, and about the Lectionary.

Father Francis Randolph (a pseudonym) begins by describing some problems familiar in this country (he is in the U.K.): declining Mass attendance, folks reporting being "bored" at Mass, and not understanding what it's about.

He describes something amazing to me, from his country: "many Catholic schools have a declared policy of not actually teaching the children anything about the Catholic religion...the school provided religious education, meaning that it could help children to live their existing faith and deepen it, but it was not its task to instill that faith in the first place" (p. 13). He pays the U.S. quite a compliment, saying, "when I hear a young American voice through the confessional grille, it is usually better informed and more conscientious than its English contemporary, though it is not necessarily more successful at living up to its ideals!" (p. 14).

Well, I shan't go through the whole book with you, but it does a good job explaining everything that goes on at Mass, giving a rationale for why we do things as we do, and explaining a number of the changes that came in the wake of the Council -- some of which he regrets or thinks miscarried. For example, he suggests perhaps we have too many readings at Mass, adding to confusion and tiring the faithful.

He rather early "shows his hand" as regarding his own preferences, particularly touching on the issue of which way the priest faces. Of course, this is a perfectly valid option, yes even under the current rite of the Mass--but not many Catholics know that, and unfortunately, the issue of "toward the people" or not is even more a "hot-button" issue than using Latin and chant. So it may be that his offerings on that subject--a brief part of his book--may be enough to put some off. That would be too bad, because there's nothing in this book that is in any way problematic, although obviously some might look at the same information or sources and reach different conclusions.

Perhaps the salient observation, offered specifically in regard to the value of Mass in Latin--even, and especially if you don't understand it!--but generally in regard to the issue of "not understanding everything" or "being distracted," was his point about the different levels of engagement with prayer. This is a common-sense observation, yet many forget about it, and try to engage in prayer mainly at the intellectual level--they try to engage the words and concepts, and apprehend them as one does in a conversation.

Of course this is important; but it is not and should not be the only level on which we pray. Randolph points out that for many people who are much more contemplative, they find trying to do this distracting and difficult, and much prefer to pray without direct engagement with the words; they don't sing, they take in the music; and for them, Mass in Latin is extremely helpful. He makes the very sound point that many people are contemplatives without realizing it, and don't particularly articulate their needs--so they end up saying, simply, "I don't know why, but I like Mass better in Latin."

Father Randolph makes the obvious right point--different strokes for different folks--but a further point, I don't recall him making, is that it might be important for everyone to experience the Mass, and prayer in general, on more levels. I.e., it may be those who object most when Mass doesn't appeal directly to them on an intellectual level, who most need chant, or music, or incense, or symbolism, or--gasp!--Latin; because it may help them discover a real dimension of prayer they'd been unaware of.

I shall provide the title as a resource for parishioners--I guess I am doing that now!

Know Him in the Breaking of the Bread by Father Francis Randolph, Ignatius Press, 1998.

What I've been doing on my retreat

Honestly, this week has been wonderful.

I sleep as much as I want: not that I really am sleeping any more than I usually do, and I can't even say I sleep better. Truth is, I sleep best in my own bed; but there's something about going to sleep without worrying about anything.

While I am a very sociable person, it's been nice not having to be particularly sociable. I mean, I'm here at a retreat center on my own, and there aren't many people around, and no one bothers me. I am alone with my thoughts, with the several books I brought with me, and with the quiet, calm environment around me.

Because the retreat center here has been pretty quiet, they didn't have any meals this week. No problem; I am perfectly capable of running to the store and getting edible things that go with coffee in the morning, that are portable so I can take them with me to the beach around lunch, and in finding places to eat in the evening.

What have I been reading? I re-read the holy father's Spirit of the Liturgy, written before he became pope; then I read his recent exhortation, Sacramentum Caritatis. I am preparing a series of talks on the latter, and thought re-reading the former would be helpful. The youth minister was a little surprised to learn these were my plans for this week--"you shouldn't do work!"--but the thing is, this is stuff I never find time to do at the parish, and it's enjoyable, and it involves a different part of the brain. That is a kind of recuperative work that we all like to do.

This is a self-directed retreat, which is pretty low-key. There are many ways to do a retreat, and this is one of them; but the other forms are very valuable.

What's the difference between this and a vacation? I guess in some ways, not much, if you consider a week of praying, reading, reflecting, to be normal vacation activity.

It hasn't been all praying and reflecting, I confess--yesterday, it was rainy all day, so I drove into Wilmington, visited the battleship U.S.S. North Carolina, which was pretty cool; at one point, I was in the turret of the big guns (and they really are--they were capable of lobbing shells 22 miles!) and lo and behold, I was able to target a Coast Guard ship just across the Cape Fear River.

Then I went to see a movie, Spiderman 3. Go see it, it's great fun, just like the comic books, which I loved when I was a kid. I don't know if Spiderman comics are the same as they were, but they used to be all about good and evil, with Peter Parker/Spiderman faced with human dilemmas about doing what's right, even when no one knew or seemed to care and it would have been a lot easier to do the wrong thing. That's pretty good stuff for any kid to be reading, and it says something that that sort of thing was taken for granted 30 years ago. The three movies all take exactly the same approach, so kudos to the filmmaker.

Eating out has had its adventures. I took a book with me, and twice was asked, "what are you reading?" "It's called The Spirit of the Liturgy." (Blank look.) The first time, the guy said, "are you going into the seminary?" And of course I explained I already had, and he figured out that meant I was a priest. He turned out to be a soldier -- a Marine -- and as far as I could tell, something of an Evangelical Protestant. Nice guy, but when he started going on about the "Book of Revelations,"* and recent world events, I politely excused myself.

Then there was the barbeque joint in Wilmington, called "Sticky Fingers"...pretty good food. Two construction workers came in, both from South Carolina, and it was the very first time in my entire life that I met fellow Americans, native English speakers, with no apparent speech impediment, who I could not understand. They were friendly and pleasant enough, but I only got about every third word they said, and I felt awkward about saying, "I'm sorry" (I caught myself saying "please?"), and felt fake in simply nodding pleasantly when they'd say something and I had no idea what it was. I usually can do a fair job mimicking these accents, but that one just escaped me. It's nice to know our country hasn't been completely homogenized yet.

Finally, it may amuse or interest some of my readers to know that currently, I look even less like my picture up in the corner. Since no one here knows me, it seemed a good opportunity to let my beard grow, although I did trim it up so I didn't look too forlorn. The bad memories of what it was like growing a beard, from 25 years ago when last I made the attempt, are all coming back. My beard comes out in several colors (back in college, the resulting effect was red), and every possible angle. The best way I can explain it is to say that the hair on my face grows like what we used to call an "afro." The only change, from 25 years ago, is a new color--a few strands are white. So I guess that makes me officially a "greybeard."

Well, don't expect to see it; it's a pretty rotten beard. Growing a beard is one of those dumb, pretty-much- meaningless things guys do once in a while, and I figure I can do it for a few more days, then shave it all off.

* It's the Book of Revelation--no 's'--and this is important, insofar as I've noticed those who make it plural always seem to see the book as a collection, a grab-bag, of confusing stuff; as opposed to a singular revelation that--however challenged we may be to interpret it--is, nonetheless, a unified message, and not something you can reach into and pull out whatever verse or statement suits your theories at the moment.

Some reactions to the GOP Debate

I didn't see the debate (no TV), but late last night, I did read a fair amount of coverage online, and see some clips. So perhaps someone who actually saw the debate in context can challenge these conclusions--which go beyond the debate, to some of the coverage...

National Review seems to have decided backing a winner is the main thing--so they seem to be soft-soaping all the ways Giuliani is a liberal, and will take this country in a liberal direction, and hyping the few, slender things about him that count as "conservative." It's all about the war. Too bad about the unborn babies...

And marriage...

And gun rights...

It's all about the war...so why shouldn't we torture? Rep. Tom Tancredo said that anything goes if you're saving Western Civilization. Who cares about torture? No, he wasn't exactly that explicit, but he did say do whatever, do anything, to get information. This in response to a hypothetical about nukes exploded on U.S. territory, and do you countenance torture? I don't much care for McCain, but he had the right answer, from what I gather -- we don't do that because it's wrong. He also had the right answer to Romney -- "I don't change my position based on it being an even-numbered year, or what office I'm running for next" or words to that effect. Too bad he's so terribly wrong on the First Amendment, and shows every sign of wanting to whack away further at free speech (his followup to his execrable "McCain-Feingold" law is to complain it doesn't go far enough).

Where was Sam Brownback? I know he was there, and I know he spoke, but that his answers show up almost nowhere in the coverage -- including conservative-wonks' coverage -- tells me he offered little that was memorable or decisive. Too bad. Huckabee may steal his rationale for running -- i.e., being a full-package conservative, proving that you don't have to opt for a different flavor of sell-out ("Rudy McRomney").

What Ron Paul said deserves more reflective consideration, rather than merely being dismissed as "blame America" and "moonbat."

What he said is deeply unsettling--he challenged over 60 years of American foreign policy--and the response, beyond Giuliani, has been to treat his words as if he'd uttered obscenities in polite company, and everyone moves on.

And yet, let's consider. Is it truly unspeakable to say that bad decisions or policy on the part of the U.S. can have terrible consequences? Isn't that what Reagan said about Jimmy Carter in 1980? Was that "blame America"?

Michelle Malkin rightly points out that his answer ignores the long history and deep roots of jihadism at work here. Yes, but: the jihadists, the folks who want to subdue everyone in the name of Islam, didn't attack us until relatively recently. Why? What moved the U.S. up the list?

One problem with Congressman Paul's answer is the suggestion that we should reconsider our relationship with Israel in this light. As with the torture question: our relations with Israel should be based on what's right; not fear of what an enemy may do to us for it.

Another problem is that I have a hard time conceiving of how the U.S. operates in the world as he seems to envision. He seemed to question whether we should have belonged to NATO! I.e., it seems to me that our engagement with Europe, post-World War II, and the resulting stance against the Soviet empire, seems to be one of the singular accomplishments of American foreign policy. Calling it a big mistake seems a pretty tough sell.

Is he suggesting we should return to a contemporary version of "Fortress America"? I suppose it would be do-able: very secure borders, full missile-defense systems, including space-based weapons, and the long reach of our military where we can identify something brewing that is clearly aimed at us. But can our economy work very well if our long borders with Canada and Mexico are not highly porous--let alone our air- and seaports? One of our problems is we are a trading nation. That means lots and lots of people and things come and go across our borders.

So Paul suggests we withdraw from "their area" -- meaning wherever Osama bin Laden et al. call "theirs." That means out of the Middle East, where our oil comes from--and not just ours, but much of the world's. The mistake many make, left and right, is to think that its just about "our" oil. No it's not. I.e., suppose, tomorrow, we discovered vast oil fields, in, say, Piqua--enough to make the U.S. oil-independent. Do we then no longer care what happens to the oil fields in the Middle East?

Yes--unless those Piqua fields are big enough to supply much of the world--because the U.S. has a stake in the stability of the rest of the world, too. Think of it this way: you and your neighbors are in the middle of a very dry area. You have your own source of water, and your neighbors have theirs. What happens if theirs stops supplying water? You really think it won't affect you?

All that said, Rep. Paul raised a valid question, too little discussed. He said something like "They (meaning bin Ladin et al.) didn't hit us because we're rich and we're free, but because of what we're doing over there." We were rich and free for a long time before it was all-important to them to hit us.

And I will say what Rep. Paul didn't say: some of the "freedoms" we push on the world, that the Islamists do hate, they are right to hate: contraception, abortion, obscenity, the radical deconstruction of marriage, family and the human person, the manipulation of life, etc. Which is to say that when President Bush and Mayor Giuliani say, "they hate us for our freedoms," I only half-cheer, because I'd rather be without some of them.

Which is all to say that Paul may be right, that we're fighting a war we needn't; or he may be wrong, that we are fighting a war we do need to fight--but we're fighting it for the wrong reasons, meaning his GOP critics are wrong, too.

...Which suggests that for all the flaws one can find in what Rep. Paul said, there's more fruitful responses to it than are being offered in much of the discussion.

Update: here's a thouhtful response to Rep. Paul's statements last night, at National Review Online. Further update: And here's more from NRO...

On the Carolina Coast

It is sunny, about 80 degrees, and I just had a walk on the beach, and some breakfast. It felt like I slept away the morning, because the sun comes up so early here, but I actually got up around 8:30 am.

I'm getting caught up on some reading today and trying not to get sun-burnt (which is super easy for me).

Where's the Holy Spirit? (Sunday homily)

Where’s the Holy Spirit?

In the Gospel, the Lord promises “the Advocate,”
who “will teach you everything.”
Doesn’t that sound like what our moms do for us?
Never doubt the Holy Spirit often speaks through mom!

In the Book of Acts, we see the Holy Spirit
working through the Apostles, as they build the Church.

In Revelation—the final book of Scripture—
we see the Spirit has completed his work:
A glorious City, full of God’s Light.

So, what about us?
How, in our time, is the Spirit at work?

Consider things we usually think are important:

· How many nuclear bombs do you have?
· How did your stock do this week?
· Which actress is Brad Pitt going out with these days?
· How is your favorite sports team doing?
· What’s on sale, and where can I buy it?

In other words, if we don’t see the Spirit at work,
could we be looking at the wrong things?

So let’s look again. And let me tell you,
this is where being a priest is so great.
I get a ring-side seat!

Someone comes to confession,
someone comes to our 24-hour chapel—
what draws them there?

When people forgive—what power enables them to do it?

You visit someone in prison—and he tells you,
he’s never felt freer, or more at peace, in his life.
Because he has nothing left…except the Holy Spirit.

So, where do you see the Holy Spirit at work?
May I suggest, you see him in surprises.
When what happens is what no one expects.

A lot of us remember the Cold War.
Conflict between freedom and communism? No surprise.
That the Cold War eventually ended,
or that the Free World won, was also, no surprise.

But how it ended—that, no one expected.
One day, someone knocked a hole in the wall,
and everybody poured through—
and nobody fired a shot!

Is the Holy Spirit at work today…in the Church?

If you look for what’s wrong, you will always find it.
If you look for what’s right, I think you’ll find a lot more.
Yes, we had some bad priests and weak bishops,
and they did a lot of harm. But we’re cleaning that up.

One result is not only that the whole Church
expects more from her priests and bishops;
but also, we expect it from each other.

One of the things the Second Vatican Council
emphasized was a universal call to holiness—
so it’s not just priests calling the people to holiness,
but the people calling their priests to the same thing!

One final thought.
Discovering what the Holy Spirit is doing might be
as easy as turning off some things:
The TV and the Internet.
Take off your watch, and forget about
where you think you need to be next.

When everything is silent—including your own thoughts…

What might you see, and hear, then?

What's happening

Preparing for going out of town is so much extra work it really is tempting not to go--I know there will be a pile of things waiting for me, and I had to scramble to get a number of things taken care of before I head off. Thank God for cell phones!

I'm sure everyone is amused by my memos--I often write out memos for the other priests and the staff, because that way I make sure I tell them things that I might otherwise forget about. Thursday and Friday I was writing up lots of memos about various things.

Meanwhile, I was getting things ready at the priest house here. We are having an open house this weekend, so parishioners can see the house the priests live in. This house had been 1/2 office, 1/2 residence until last November, when the two parish offices were consolidated. Then we did some remodeling and repainting, allowing the parochial vicar to have a room on the first floor, and to give the house some much-needed fresh attention. The last few days we've been taking care of various details, such as hanging pictures, and making sure all the beds have pillow.

Last night we had a party for those who helped do all the work, and we had some sandwiches and drinks for them, and showed everyone around. Tonight, after both Saturday Masses, and tomorrow, we are also welcoming all comers. So of course, we had to have snacks, beer, pop (for the evening) and donuts, juice and coffee, for tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I had a wedding today--sort of. I wasn't the officiant at the wedding--the bride is Protestant, so they were able to apply for a dispensation, so that her minister would officiate; while in such a situation, I needn't even take part, they wanted me there, and I was happy to be there. So last night, we had the rehearsal dinner; but because of the thank-you reception at the priests' house, I had to duck out before the actual rehearsal. No problem--all I had to do at the wedding was bless the rings.

Then, today, I had to run down to the next town for the wedding, which was in the evening; after the wedding, I headed back to welcome folks to the priest house.

Oh, and we also welcomed two seminarians who will be with us this summer; they arrived around 2 pm, and we got them settled; they assisted at the two Masses, so they could be introduced, and then they met more folks at the Open House.

We would have had more folks tonight, but the Cub Scouts planned a Spagetti Dinner, so no one came from St. Boniface to my Open House tonight. I hope they come tomorrow.

Tomorrow, after two Masses, and the Open House, I am heading off tomorrow afternoon for a retreat.

I had a dream...

Have you noticed that if you wake up during a dream, you can remember it?

Early this morning, before I woke up, I had a dream. I was dreaming of the holy father, having one of those huge Masses he has, when he travels. Just the way you've seen them. And there was the pope!

It was Pope John Paul II. He was doing what the pope does at one of those Masses.

Then I realized I was hearing something else...it was an announcer...on the radio...I was listening to NPR's report on the holy father's visit to Brazil.

And I thought, hmm, can't be two popes...then I woke up and remembered.

'Prolife' supporters of Giuliani strangely silent

Readers and friends know I take a keen interest in politics; the truth is, however, parish life keeps me pretty busy, so I spend far less time on the subject than I might enjoy.

Some time back, when former New York mayor Rudy Giuliani began to be talked about as a presidential candidate in 2008, a lot of his vocal supporters and cheerleaders included folks who claim to be prolife--in this case, they became "prolife, but," as in, "I'm prolife, but I think the need for a strong leader in this time of crisis is of first order, so I back Giuliani." And then came explanations for why someone who had been outspoken for legal abortion, even for tax funding of abortion, would still be someone prolifers could get along with and even make progress with.

Well, there may be other arguments for Giuliani, but that one was patently ridiculous. A far better argument can be made for how Bill Clinton's presidency meant progress for prolifers: because of the resulting activism of prolifers to his election, translating into election of many more prolife politicians to Congress and state legislatures, and that in turn resulting in better policy in many places. That happens to be true. But no one has, to my knowledge, suggested Giuliani will have a similar effect.

No, the argument meant to induce prolifers to accept Giuliani was that he'd mute his pro-abortion position, and he'd advance the prolife cause by naming good justices to the Supreme Court.

Well...then he said in the recent debate that he'd be "okay" with Roe v. Wade being overturned, and he'd be okay with it being upheld--and he saw either outcome as something a strict constructionist justice could do.

In his column today, Charles Krauthammer points out, reasonably, how this might be true--that a "strict constructionist" justice might reason that Roe had been part of the law too long to be repealed. But all that does is highlight that the term "strict constructionist" is deceptive in its meaning in these discussions. To be blunt: politicians trot out the term to soothe and lull people into a false sense of security. Our current president, and also Giuliani (and many others), say "strict constructionist" to prolifers, expecting them to hear, "will overturn Roe." It's code, and everyone knows it.

After all, the centerpiece of the "prolife" argument for Giuliani was his pledge to appoint justices "like Roberts and Alito." (Never mind neither has yet demonstrated he'll cast aside Roe.)

Giuliani's candor on Roe knocked the props out from under these so-called prolifers who backed him. I say so-called, not because I believe a prolifer cannot back Giuliani. I happen to believe that; but I also can understand that not everyone has clarity on that, and I don't care to fight over that question, just now. No, the folks I call "so-called prolifers" are those who, in my judgment, are attempting a fraud--either deliberately, or they simply have deluded themselves. They are trying to claim someone like Giuliani would represent progress, or at worst, no change, when it comes to the prolife cause. It would be far more honest to concede he's terrible on the prolife cause, and would hurt the cause--but some extenuating circumstances make that the least bad alternative. I wouldn't agree with that argument--but it's a more honest one.

Back to Giuliani's answer on Roe--it is your warning, prolifers, to discount all the talk about "strict constructionist" judges and look for more substantive responses. (I might point out, in passing, that Giuliani, in that recent debate, either erred accidentally, or showed his ignorance of the law, or tried to snow us, when he referred to Roe being upheld, and then it'd be up to the states. The fact is, part of what makes Roe a travesty is that it does not leave it up to the states. The pro-aborts know it, so anything that opens the door, even a crack, to federal or state regulation of abortion represents a backing away from the absolutism of Roe, and its companion case, Doe. And, I might also point out here that this is why it's a little disingenuous to speak of Roe as "settled law" because it has been modified, several times, since 1973.) I'm not saying strict constructionist justices aren't a good thing, nor am I saying that what we should want is justices whose vote on Roe is pre-determined. What I think is that these politicians are trying to play word games with us, and Giuliani's candor on Roe the other day reveals that.

As does the recent silence of those who were claiming prolifers could make progress with Giuliani. They can't point to his promises on justices anymore, and I suspect they are afraid to say anything else in defense of him on the prolife cause, for fear he'll cut 'em off at the knees with the next revelation. For example, he claims to be "personally prolife" (like John Kerry), and yet it turns out he gave money to the world's leading abortion industry, Planned Parenthood. Better to talk about the war on terror.

Going on retreat soon...

...Next week, in fact.

Blogging will be sparse, if not non-existent, into the following week.

My only regret is I will miss the presbyteral ordinations for the archdiocese this year, but I had no other time to schedule this, and I better get some time off before I start bouncing off the walls.

Blogger Bash: worth a trip to Worthington

Driving from Piqua to Worthington, Ohio was no great trick--U.S. 36 to S.R. 29, and then it's a straight shot along S.R. 161 ("the 161," as they say in California). Who knew Plain City even existed, let alone how nice it is? That was me whizzing through -- twice -- last night. Hope the cows have calmed down.

It was very nice meeting Mr. & Mrs. Darwin. Mrs. Darwin brought along her brother, who is a seminarian -- for the Archdiocese of Cincinnati! -- and who didn't talk as much as the rest of us, meaning he could eat more wings and potato skins. Smart guy! (I'm told he picked the location; it had great food and beer, no surprise a seminarian knew about it.)

The Darwins are every bit as charming as you find them on their website, DarwinCatholic, linked at your right. Both young. I am pretty sure I have some clothes older than they are, but I didn't say that to them. They have three children, what a nice start! We chatted about any number of things, particularly movies and a bit of theology, and a bit of politics. It was fun hearing about "the cockroach who destroyed their bed"; although the actual causation of that incident is not well expressed by that title...

Jay Anderson was slated to join us, but there was something about a poker game...Oh, wait, I wasn't supposed to say that publicly! I hope his wife doesn't see this; I heard she never reads anything online.

But if he had shown up, I'm sure I could have described him as follows. He happens to look just like his picture (I guess I don't, due to needing a haircut, and a few years' service in the parish, and all the free eats that go with, flabbing my appearance), and has quite a few good stories. I won't tell them, because you might meet him someday, and who knows? He may only have that one set of stories, and I don't want to make things difficult for him...

He has quite a bit to say about the Supreme Court, and the Darwins, are terribly polite and made a good show of being interested in Justice Ginsburg's reputed shoe size.

The political discussion was insightful--particularly explaining the real reason Jay was hot to move to a new jurisdiction. Something about elections and "walking around money." But I hear Columbia, Virginia has the best Anti-Terror Nuke Suppression Team in the country, thanks to clever applications with the Homeland Security Administration.

Oh, wait--I wasn't supposed to say anything about that, either.

Of course, all this is speculation, because Jay didn't actually show up--something about the Badda Bing Club a little further down U.S. 23...

It's Palm Sunday again...

...On the local access channel here.

Most weekends, a volunteer tapes Mass at one of the two parish churches here, and that plays on Channel 10. But occasionally, no one does it, so the local access folks pull an old tape off the shelf; so I am watching myself offer Mass on Palm Sunday. The bare patch on the crown of my head keeps getting bigger, alas.

As it happens, even when we get Mass taped, the tape doesn't play for a week; the programming for the weekend is all lined up in the machines when the weekend begins.

The Eucharist brings us to the New Creation (First Communion homily)

A few moments ago, we heard a reading
in which John tells us he saw
“a new heavens and a new earth.”

Our world is beautiful!
Every day, as spring unfolds, it’s more wonderful.
Think of all his wonders to behold:
rivers and meadows, waterfalls and canyons,
snow-caps and rain forests, deserts and oceans—
Think of all the forms of life that fill the earth.

When night falls, look up and behold
the spangled sky, littered with gaudy extravagance.
Imagine what wonders fill the countless galaxies!
You fall asleep, dreaming of them!

What a world—why make a new one?
Because it is damaged.
I left out one part of God’s Creation: US!
Human beings have both the greatest potential—
but we can also do the greatest damage.

So we are the ones who need to be made new;
and a new us means a new heavens and a new earth.

What that might be like?

Well, imagine we could somehow extract from this world,
all the envy, and greed, and pride…
all the anger and apathy and selfishness?
That would be a “new heavens and a new earth”!

That and more is what John saw.
So: how do we get there?

Today we celebrate the Lord rising from the dead,
same as every Sunday.
Ah, but there’s something special today!
Many fellow believers here
will receive the Eucharist for the first time!

So I just asked: how do we get to the new Creation?
The Eucharist is how we get there.

Jesus told us many things.
He said, “I am the Bread of Life”;
He said, “my flesh and my blood are truly food and drink.”
In a few minutes, at this altar,
you’ll hear him say, through me,
“This is my Body” and “This is the Cup of my Blood.”

So all that points to the Eucharist we share.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus spoke of “glory”:
The Father gives glory to the Son;
and the Son shares his glory with us.
That happens through the Eucharist.

Boys and girls, I know that your teachers and parents
have taught you many things about the Eucharist.

We believe that we’re together
with Jesus, Mary, the saints and angels—
all heaven and earth, right here in the Mass!

We believe we don’t come to receive the Eucharist,
unless we have faith; unless we turn from our sins;
and unless we are ready to live as part of His Church,
the New People, his chosen Bride.

So the Eucharist is not a gift just for us:
this isn’t a “look at me, I’m special,” day;
Instead, this is a day Jesus chooses us in a new way,
to be givers and sharers of his life, with others.

All this is how we become his new creation.

I wish I could tell you that one time would do it!
But that isn’t how it works.

You were baptized as babies;
then you had to grow up some, before this day.
And far more lies ahead of you.
God wants us to grow into that new Creation.

In some ways, that’s harder;
but it’s also more real for us.

I know how excited you are, today—everyone is!
Aren’t you glad this isn’t the one and only time?

Let me tell you a secret…
The communion that matters the most,
isn’t the first…but the last one!

Remember I said, this Creation is wonderful—
but a new one is coming, far better?
This first communion is wonderful;
but the last one—the one that happens
in that new creation—
that’s the one to get excited about:
because that communion will never end!

Grownups, maybe you’re looking back
on your first communion.
But don’t look back, look forward—
to your next one, and to that last one!

And, if it’s been awhile, do as these young people did:
go to confession, and make another “first” communion,
back on your way to that forever communion!

Boys and girls, I just want to end by saying “Thank you!”
Your eagerness, your joy, is a lesson for everyone here.
I said a moment ago Jesus wants you to share
the new life he gives you in the Eucharist.

You know what? You’re already doing it!
Thank you!

Tell me again what a priest does all day?

This week has been a good one, but busy as usual.

The pile on my desk is back down to a manageable mess; I've gotten a bit caught up (that means, I'm behind to a more tolerable degree). I'm making progress unpacking things at my house; yesterday, I hung about a third of my pictures, I'll get the rest next week. (Thankfully I have a parishioner who is helping me.)

Meanwhile, we've been preparing for an Open House at the Parish Offices. We wanted to do it when things were somewhat--but not too--presentable.

Part of my purpose is to make St. Mary parishioners welcome, as the offices moved from St. Mary to combine with St. Boniface. Another part of my purpose is for folks to see how the office staff does its work, what it takes, and that we are trying to be both professional but also frugal.

Yet another part of my purpose is to be open about what is still needed. While we did maintenance and improvements to the priests' house before I moved in, that wasn't practical for the parish offices; so many needed maintenance and repair jobs remain undone. On the interior, a few thousand dollars' worth of painting, plumbing, electrical work, and some plastering. On the outside, tens of thousands of dollars in roof repairs and exterior maintenance.

I am praying we will have a good showing; and that people will be willing to help, in whatever way they can.

So, yesterday and today, a parishioner who is helping me with this went around and posted signs in each room or office, explaining what is needed; and we have a display down in the front room. A bit ago, I was downstairs, putting out some food; I will go back downstairs (I'm in my office) a bit later to put out the cold items. Tonight folks get chips and dip, cheese and crackers, beer, pop and wine. Tomorrow it's coffee, juice and doughnuts.

Meanwhile, today, I had two meetings, and did a little work at my desk. Saturdays are a great time to work at my desk, I'm all alone.

'Jesus Day,' God and Country

Today is "Jesus Day" in Piqua -- at least, for the Catholics.

Every year, about this time, we have "Jesus Day" for the second-graders who are soon to receive the Eucharist for the first time (i.e., this Sunday). "Jesus Day" is a series of activities, both fun and instructive, designed to prepare for that. Part of it is having the sacrament of reconciliation for the second-graders. I am proud of our community here: our second graders will have received the sacrament of confession several times before their first communion -- meaning, it is more than merely "something you have to do first." Our hope is it becomes a meaningful spiritual habit and source of grace all by itself.

So, in a bit, I'll head over to "shrive" our dear children. Later, we'll also have confessions for the 3rd graders, because we have confessions for all grades about four or five times during the school year, and they are due. We'll get the other grades next week, and the week after that.

Meanwhile, the other churches in town are participating in the "National Day of Prayer." Our parishes here haven't, in recent years, taken much role in that. Nobody asks why, so I'll just say it here, and I'll explain by way of describing the mailing I got, the other day, about it.

The flyer talked about events of the local, "National Day of Prayer" observance, how we'd pray for various worthy needs. But then it said something to this effect: "check here to indicate how many American flags you will need."

American flags?

Why do I need an American flag in order to pray?

I love our country, but I don't understand why so many folks get mixed up on "God and Country." It's not like, "Father, Son and Holy Spirit" -- it's more like:

God


Country


And I have to say -- there is open space between God and country because some values are higher than patriotism. If our nation promotes evil -- such as abortion, contraception, pornography, plays word-games with torture, and so forth -- then while I still love my country, what is true and what is good is a higher loyalty.

But I have been to a number of these "God and Country" rallies, and while I know people mean well, to me they border on idolatry. About 70% country, and 30% God; lots of "God Bless America" when it should be, "America, bless God!" These events give every impression of suggesting God is an American, and favors our cause.

Wrong. God's Providence is vastly beyond our understanding; and if it happens (and it does often seem to be the case) that it serves God's purpose to use the United States or any other nation in pursuit of his purpose, than we ought to be humbled by that, and say, "we are but unworthy servants" and stop there.

There are many good things to say about our nation, and its principles and way of life; I'm not saying we shouldn't lift up those good things, and strengthen them. I think we should; and I think we should continue to be a beacon to the world, as we have been. There's no question we have something remarkable in our constitution and our liberty and free market economy. We have many good reasons to be proud of what our nation has contributed to the welfare of humanity.

But as between "God and Country, rah-rah America--er, I mean, um, God!" and "Jesus Day," I prefer the latter.