Where the Christmas Tree came from

(This is a talk I gave today to the Piqua Kiwanis Club, of which I am a member.)

By now, if you put up a Christmas tree, you’ve already got it up. Actually, I have not! But I like to put it up this week, for reasons that will become clear shortly.

In any case, I bet you have heard different stories about the origin of the Christmas tree.

Some of you have heard the Christmas tree was a pagan thing that Christians “baptized” at some point--meaning they converted it from having a pagan meaning to having a Christian or at least innocuous meaning.

Some have heard that there is some connection between the Christmas Tree and Saint Boniface, who brought the Gospel to Germany.

How many simply have no idea where it came from?

In order to explain it, I have to explain something most people don’t know.

The Catholic Church assigns a day on the calendar for every saint, including saints of the Old Testament. So the Prophet Elijah is considered a saint, and his day is July 20. Moses’ day is September 4.

You may not know that Adam and Eve are also considered saints. Do you know what their day is?

December 24--Christmas Eve.

Now, I don’t know why December 24 is their day, but I would guess--and it’s only a guess--that it was done precisely as a lead-in to Christmas.

So let’s go back in history to approximately the year AD 1200. Let’s land in Europe, where many, if not most, of our ancestors came from, and where the search for the Christmas Tree takes us.

Remember, in the year 1200, there are very few books, because books must be copied by hand, which is time consuming and expensive. That’s why people didn’t read. It would be like saying, did you know in the year 1980, no one knew how to twitter? It’s true!

So…how do you teach people the Faith in those days? Well, you do what I bet Pastor Wells often does at his church--and we do in ours--we organize plays.

Just like today, a community would have celebrations through the year. What do we do in Piqua? We have festivals and parades and folks love to come, particularly with their kids. Some things never change.

They would do the same, but instead of Memorial Day, Independence Day and Labor Day, they would gather on saints’ days and feast days. If they didn’t come into town to attend church every week, they’d come then.

And these would be great occasions to have plays to teach people the Faith. The plays would take place in the church, or the public square--and, naturally, they would be fun occasions for everyone to come together.

So, we’re in our time machine; let’s land in Germany--and imagine showing up for one of these plays; maybe some enterprising businessperson--like Peggy H____ or Gretchen R___--those are good German names!--is out selling bratwurst und streudel to feed the folks who came to the festival!

So here we are in December. And the mayor of the town--or the pastor--is organizing the celebration n of Adam and Eve day, December 24th. I’m not guessing about this, we know they did this.

But imagine you’re the person who is in charge of the play. The pastor says, “we need props for the play!” If you want a props for a play about Adam and Eve, what would you need?

How about a tree? What sort of tree are you going to find--that’s not bare--in December?

A fir tree!

Now, it is true that the story of Saint Boniface connects here. Saint Boniface, in preaching to my ancestors running around in the Black Forest, confronted those who worshipped trees. And when he saw them worshipping a mighty oak, he took an axe and brought it down, and said, “how stands your god now?” The story goes that because Thor didn’t strike him down, my great-great-great….grandfather and his brothers all listened as Boniface told them about Jesus Christ. And, the story goes, a fir tree sprung up in the place where the oak was felled.

So some claim that this is how the fir tree was involved; the trouble is, I don’t have any evidence for that. But we do know they had the plays; and we do know that, in December, in Germany, no other trees are green.

So you come back: "Hier ist ein tree!" "Gut, gut!” says the pastor. “Now, getten zome fruiten for das tree!"

Fruit? Why would you need fruit on this tree?

Adam and Eve, remember?

Now…Pastor Wells can tell us, what does Genesis say is the type of fruit on the Tree of knowledge of Good and Bad?

That’s right--the Bible just says “fruit.”

So, what fruit might you find in Germany in December? Well, nothing on trees, of course, but maybe in a basement? How about apples?

You may also be interested to know that in Latin--the Scriptures were in Latin then--the word for "bad" (as in "the tree of the knowledge of good and bad") is "malum"; and the word for apples, is "malum."

So while those are guesses about how apples came to be chosen, we do know apples were placed on the tree.

They also placed another decoration on the tree: discs of bread.

If you’re wondering why, recall that in the Garden of Eden, there were two trees mentioned by name. Not only the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, but also, the Tree of Life. We know that they ate from the Tree of Knowledge; but there remained the Tree of Life--which they couldn’t eat from once they’d sinned.

And what they were attempting to teach was about the Eucharist--holy communion--being a sharing in the death of Christ; who, remember, died on a “tree”--it was Saint Paul who called the cross “a tree.“

So the “Paradise Tree,“ in these plays, was both trees in one, with the fruit that brought death, and the fruit that gives life!

Over many years, these plays were performed in Germany, but along the way they got out of hand--hmm, a play about Adam and Eve, with forbidden fruit? How could anyone take that the wrong way? So Church authorities called a halt to the plays. But folks liked the "Paradise Trees" so they continued setting them up--at home.

Now at this stage, the decorations gradually change; there are different stories about when glass ornaments came along--either in the 1500s or the 1800s. But what seems to have happened was that other fruit or nuts were placed on the trees, and along the way, the discs of bread were replaced by cookies. I’m curious: who here has, or has seen, cookies-baked to be very hard--as ornaments? How about fruit-shaped ornaments? I bet some of you even have apple-shaped ornaments; I have.

Who knows the story about the lights on the tree? The story usually told is that Martin Luther added candles; I couldn’t find any source for that, but I don’t have many Lutheran sources! My mother, who was born in 1914, remembered candles from her childhood. Has anyone here ever seen real candles on a tree?

So, with all this information, I think we can answer the claim made by some that the Christmas Tree is something pagan. It is not; it is Christian and Biblical--meant to point back to Adam and Eve, but also to Christ, and the Cross.

And when you enjoy looking at your Christmas Tree this year, think of the passage from Revelation, that describes the New Jerusalem, the City of God, with no sun or moon, because the Lamb is its light; and in the center, along the River of Life, is the Tree of Life, giving twelve kinds of fruit all twelve months of the year.

Sources:
“In Defense Of The Christmas Tree,” by the Very Rev. Daniel Daly, published in The Word Magazine, December 2002; accessed online at:
http://www.prescottorthodox.org/2010/12/in-defense-of-the-christmas-tree-2/.

“The Christmas Tree,” by Rayn Blair; appearing in Celebrations: a social studies resource guide for elementary teachers, Fall, 1996, published by Department of Elementary Education, College of Education, Utah State University; accessed online at: http://teacherlink.ed.usu.edu/tlresources/units/Byrnes-celebrations/christmas.html.

The Christmas Tree, by Daniel J. Foley, Chilton Co., 1960.

My day so far...

Up at 6 am for 7 am Mass...

After 7 am Mass--with help from the seminarian--we began cooking eggs for parish breakfast. (I love eggs-in-a-bag! Real eggs, broken by elves somewhere, mixed and sealed in bags. All you have to do is boil them for a good while--about 1-1/2 to 2 hours. They need salt and pepper, and maybe a little fat or butter.) The seminarian kindly tended the eggs whilst I picked up the donuts, coffee and juice, quickly got myself some early breakfast, then had the next Mass...

...At which we received some folks as catechumens--meaning they are preparing for baptism at Easter. That is a ritual I don't do often so I had to review it a few minutes before 9 am Mass.

Mass went a little over; back to the other parish to finish preparing breakfast--slated for after 10:30 am Mass. We spread about 200 sausage links on trays and put them in the oven while the eggs finished up; we perked coffee and otherwise hung out till the end of the next Mass.

The seminarian and I served about 120-150 folks we think. I do this each year at this time at each parish. It's my gift to the parishes.

About 1 pm we served the last folks--some guys who set up the creche following Mass--and I sent the seminarian home with the leftover sausage and eggs and I finished cleaning up. Home around 2 pm.

I've been surfing the 'net for news since then; in a moment I'll head back to St. Boniface to meet with the junior high group; they are having some sort of pizza-competition.

At 6 I'm meeting with the high schoolers to go caroling. I'll have dinner around 8 pm, and that'll be when I can really rest.

Joy, as opposed to happiness (Sunday homily)

There’s a word we hear in the prayers
and in the readings for Mass today:
“Rejoice.” We hear it a lot this time of year.

Sometimes we equate “joy” with being happy.
While they often go together, they aren’t the same.

The way we often figure this out
is when what makes us happy is taken away.

I remember being at the bedside
of one of our parishioners this year,
as she peacefully died.
She and her family were praying.
And when she passed, her husband of so many years,
who didn’t want to let her go,
yet knowing where she was headed;
still holding her hand—and with eyes brimming with tears,
said, and I quote: “I’m broken-hearted; but I’m joyful.”

And there it is.

“Happiness,” at any given moment,
we may or may not have.
But joy—true joy—isn’t a mood,
and isn’t a measure of the things we have.
True joy is a fruit of the Holy Spirit.

We all have the Gift of the Holy Spirit through baptism.
But we can easily take it for granted,
until everything else is at risk.

In the first reading,
Isaiah describes himself as anointed with the Spirit
to heal the broken-hearted
and to liberate those in bondage;
on one level, it’s about
his message to God’s People in his time;
but it’s even more about Jesus—
who liberates as no else can.

One of the most powerful ways to experience
that is in the sacrament of confession.
We’ll have our Penance Service
at St. Mary, this Tuesday, at 7 pm.

There’s no defeat or shame
like feeling bound up in a habit of sin.
And there’s no liberation
like having sins forgiven and gone!
And they really are taken away just that fast:
as fast as the priest speaks the words of absolution!

There are many things that are hard being a priest,
But this isn’t one of them.
This is one of the best things I get to do.
Passing out gold like St. Nicholas did doesn’t hold a candle
to assisting Jesus Christ as he takes away sin.

I get the privilege of witnessing that;
Some people will say they feel a tremendous freedom;
But even if the person gives no sign at all,
I’m telling you, sometimes I can just tell
That a tremendous weight has been lifted.

And I’m telling you:
guys, if you’re thinking about being a priest—
there is no Gift you’ll ever give anyone
anywhere as awesome as that.

There’ll be six priests here Tuesday night
giving out pure gold—for free!
Forgiveness! Come and get some!

This joy, that comes from the Holy Spirit,
Not only sustains in times of trouble,
But also makes it possible, even easy,
to do what otherwise would seem impossible.

As you know, this weekend we take up a collection
for our retired religious brothers and sisters.

When we look at those who take vows,
if we see only as the world sees,
it can be hard to figure out why they do it.
Voluntarily embrace poverty and chastity?
Work hard for others; take risks? Why do this?

I think of Sister Dorothy Stang, of Dayton,
who was trying to help the poor in Brazil,
she dismissed the threats, and finally they did kill her.
She didn’t care.

And I think of Father Saint Damian,
who served lepers in Hawaii,
until he died of the same disease.

What makes that possible?
The joy that only the Holy Spirit can give.

Of all the special collections we have through the year,
this one is the best received. And it’s obvious why.
The same Holy Spirit that works in our dear religious
rises up in our heart in gratitude.

So I ask you to be generous;
but I already know you will be.

So I come back to where I started.
“Happiness” as opposed to joy.

If your health is good, you have all you need,
you are surrounded by love and blessings—
you have every cause for happiness.

Even so, some around us don’t have all those things.
And if they lost someone special,
the ache is worse this time of year.
If “happy” isn’t a word you want to use right now…
that’s OK.

But know that with or without
what usually counts as “happy,”
the Holy Spirit is still yours.
That is the true joy that counts.

'It's not [only] about Mary' (Immaculate Conception)

We often speak of the “mysteries” of our Faith.
There is a “mystery” in this particular Feast we celebrate today;
a “secret” that I’m going to share with you— that I hope you will try to reflect on.
Here’s the “secret”—are you ready?

This feast—of Mary’s immaculate conception— is not about Mary.
Or, I should say, there’s a lot more it’s about.

The first reading tells you this.
It reminds us of the moment, untold ages ago,
when the enemy of souls induced the human race to choose sin the first time.
That is when humanity was corrupted; shipwrecked.

Saint Paul, in his letter to the Romans, tells us that when humanity became corrupt,
it wasn’t just the human race that was damaged; all Creation was changed.

So the first thing this feast is about is sin: the infection that,
once it contaminated humanity and Creation, made this is a different world.

The second part of the mystery this feast is about is God’s plan.

If you listened closely, in the first reading, God said:
“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers;
he will strike at your head, while you strike at his heel.”

At the very beginning, when humanity fell, God already was planning his response:
There would be another Eve, and her Son would do battle with the enemy for our sake.
That second Eve is Mary.

Now, there is a point of confusion.

The conception we celebrate today is not Jesus’ conception in Mary’s womb.
Do the math: how could Jesus be conceived on December 8, and born on December 25?
Jesus’s conception is celebrated on March 25: nine months before Christmas.

Today we celebrate the conception of Mary, in the womb of her mother, Ann.

Just as God created Eve without any stain of sin,
so he intervened to ensure that Mary, the Second Eve,
would also have no stain of sin: immaculate.

Although Jesus is the one who truly does battle for us—on the Cross;
in a real way, Mary also did battle for us.

Just as Eve said “yes” to the serpent, and allowed sin to enter Creation,
So Mary said “yes” to God, and allowed the Messiah to become part of Creation!

So many things to notice here!

Notice that what happened in Mary was God’s doing:
God is the one who prevented Original Sin from touching her.
So when we talk about God’s grace saving us— not we ourselves—Mary is exhibit A!

Mary being conceived without sin wasn’t absolutely necessary—
God could have found another way— but it was entirely fitting and appropriate.

How fitting that if God’s People would create, in the Old Testament,
a beautiful container, called the Ark of the Covenant, to carry the Ten Commandments;
then how much more fitting that God would prepare so beautiful a vessel for himself:
Mary, the Ark of the New Covenant!

And how right that Mary, who would be the first to accept Jesus as Savior,
would be able to respond with perfect devotion— because no shadow of sin held her back!

As Saint Augustine said, she who conceived him in her womb,
first conceived her in her heart through faith.

I said at the outset that this Feast is only partly about Mary.
It’s about Jesus of course; and it’s about us.

When we see Adam and Eve fall, we cringe; because that’s our story.
Well, when we see Mary, full and radiant with grace,
our hearts surge with joy—because that’s our destiny!
Mary—all the saints really, but Mary above all— is a like a mirror:
We love her, among other things, because of how perfectly she reflects the glory of her Son.

And we are filled with hope, because we see in her what we can be.
All we have to do is say “yes.”

Christ asks, 'Comfort my people' (Sunday homily)

If you have ever wondered why we get the readings we do,
in Advent, here’s why:

The first reading is a prophecy
and it describes what God’s people need
and what we have hoped for.

The Gospel shows us how that longing is fulfilled in Jesus Christ.

So in Isaiah’s time, God’s people are in a bad way.
Depending on just when Isaiah said this,
either his people are facing the destruction of their country,
or else they are already in exile.

And God sends Isaiah to “comfort my people.”
They will be forgiven; and what’s high will be brought low;
what’s lowly will be lifted up.
In other words, it’s a promise of true justice.

In Isaiah’s time—and in ours—
People who down low, out in the cold,
look up and see the heights—and they wonder…

Then—and now—they wonder:
Can I be lifted up? Is there a way out?

Centuries later, John the Baptist comes,
And God’s people are still down low.
Now it’s the Romans who invade God’s City, Jerusalem—
To curry favor with the Roman overlords,
King Herod installed a Roman Eagle on the gate of God’s Temple.


Imagine our church were in Europe not too long ago;
and here come the Nazis and tell us:
put a swastika on the front of your church?

That’s what God’s People saw on God’s House
every time they worshipped.

God’s People were ready to be lifted up.

But John tells them something they may not have expected.
He doesn’t tell them, Christ is coming to destroy the Romans.
Christ will conquer—but not destroy.
And it starts in the heart—in your heart:
That’s where the path for the Lord begins.

It’s been a long time since John told us to seek that fire—
that conversion—
And there is still a lot of lifting up to do.
And there’s a lot changing in us still needed.

While we’re still waiting and asking, “When Lord?”
Christ is waiting for us—he invites us to do some of the lifting.

Let me apply this to a problem we face right here and now.
People who walk the streets and have no place to sleep at night.

We don’t huge numbers of homeless people in Piqua,
be we have some. Sometimes families with children.

And for some time, Wilma Earls and Cathy Large,
and others involved in the Bethany Center,
Have been trying to do something
about providing shelter at night.
There’s been talk of the Bethany Center becoming a shelter—
but that isn’t possible yet.

In the meantime, they’ve organized a “cold shelter” system
for the winter months,
for those who otherwise would sleep outside.

Several area churches are taking turns,
with a different church providing shelter each night of the week.

You may be wondering,
will St. Mary and St. Boniface be sites for this?

At the present time we’re not.
The pastoral councils and I are looking at it,
but there are some hurdles to overcome before we can do that.

In the meantime, other churches in Piqua are ready to go—
but they need volunteers!

Remember: it’s the Lord who is waiting to see what we’ll do.

We need volunteers to help welcome guests and check them in.
Some can help with preparing food or cleaning up;
some to stay overnight;
and some to put things in order in the morning.
And there are ways to help as well.

Not only is the Lord waiting o see what we will do,
Remember he told us, he’s the one waiting outside,
in the cold, for food and clothing and shelter.


And he told us, he’s also the one we don’t help,
who sleeps under a bridge in January.

Sometimes we make it complicated; we think of all the angles.
But in the end, it’s pretty simple.
We are confronted with Christ’s own words:
“Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers…”

So Christ is asking for this—not me.
What are we willing to do?

There’s a form in your pews, along with a pencil,
where you can say, I’m willing to consider it;
I am willing to be contacted with more information.

If you put your name and address down,
And put it in the collection basket,
it doesn’t mean you’ve promised anything;
it only means you’re willing to hear more.

There’s still a lot of God’s promises that need to be kept—
to comfort his people.

Christ is waiting for us—and calling us—to help him do it.

Updated links...

OK, you can trust my link section now; I cleaned it up and updated connections.

It had been awhile; and I was surprised to find so many were still active!

To Jesus Christ our Sovereign King

The feast of Christ the King occasions use of one of my favorite hymns: "To Jesus Christ our Sovereign King." The story behind this hymn is powerful, it needs to be better known, if only because it is likely to bear on our near future.

At one time, I'd found articles about the late Monsignor Martin Hellreigel, who wrote this hymn in 1941. But just now, attempting to find them again, I am coming up with blanks. So permit me to summarize both from memory and from what bits and pieces I found online.

Father Hellreigel was a German immigrant to the U.S. as a child. He was ordained a priest for the Precious Blood congregation in 1914. At one time, I mistakenly thought he was in Germany at the time he composed this hymn; in fact, he was in St. Louis! But it was composed in 1941, at the height of the peril from fascism that makes ideology a god. And of course, we know how many millions of lives were sacrificed to that god.

Monsignor Hellreigel was in anguish about what was happening in his homeland when he composed his hymn.

I invite you to read or listen to the lyrics of that hymn, recognizing in them a rebuttal to Nazism, Fascism, and every other "ism" that exults itself against God--and over humanity:

To Jesus Christ, our Sov'reign King,
Who is the world's salvation,
All praise and homage do we bring,
And thanks and adoration.

Refrain:
Christ Jesus Victor, Christ Jesus Ruler!
Christ Jesus, Lord and Redeemer!

2. Thy reign extend, O King benign,
To ev'ry land and nation,
For in Thy kingdom, Lord divine,
Alone we find salvation.
(Refrain)

3. To Thee and to Thy Church, great King,
We pledge our hearts' oblation,
Until before Thy throne we sing,
In endless jubilation.

In our time, sadly our own governments in the United States are setting themselves against Jesus Christ. In two states and in several municipalities, the Catholic Church has been driven out of adoptions. The Obama Administration is seeking to force Catholic institutions to distribute contraceptives and provide early abortions, under the guise of so-called contraceptions. We have politicians in both parties who rename torture and advocate its use. Whatever it takes to defeat our enemies.

You and I, dear reader, are less and less treated as sovereign citizens, and more as subjects. If you fly anywhere, you have the privilege of being treated like cattle--but you better not object, or else worse will happen to you. When citizens take photographs or videos of the police, in many jurisdictions, they are arrested. The government wants to place tracking devices on our cars, without warrant. In various jurisdictions, the "Occupy" protesters--many of whom have behaved very badly--have been dispersed with high-handed tactics by the police. And our President is arguing, in our courts, for the view that the Constitution allows the regulation not only of economic activity, but the mandate of the same. No one has reasonably shown how, if the government can mandate you and me to purchase insurance, it cannot regulate virtually all our "economic" activity and decisions.

But none of them--neither party, no system, no government program, no function of the market, is the world's salvation. Only Jesus Christ! Viva Christo Rey!

'For you and for many' (Homily 5 on new Mass translation)

Next week, as you know, we begin using
the new translation of the Mass.
Today I want to look at the one change
that I know has a lot of people talking.
If it’s misunderstood, which will be easy to do,
it will cause some concern.

In the Eucharistic Prayer,
we are all familiar with the words the priest says,
when he holds the cup of wine:
“this is the cup of my blood—
the blood of the new and everlasting covenant,
it will be shed for you…”

In the outgoing translation, it goes on to say,
“…and for all.”
In the new translation, it says, “for you and for many.”

That certainly raises a lot of questions.
There’s more going here, so let’s dig into it.

We have to go back to the Scriptures to understand this.
The fact is, this is what the Gospels say
Jesus said at the Last Supper.

Listen to what Matthew wrote,
which we read on Palm Sunday:
“this is my blood of the covenant,
which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins.’”
The Gospel of Mark has very similar words.

Now, some might ask,
are the words in the Bible, in Greek,
hard to translate? Is the Latin of the Mass prayers ambiguous?
They really aren’t.

And, for those who are interested in more detail on this,
I prepared a handout which is in the bulletin today.

But before we go any further,
let’s stop and realize why it is that “many”
sounds bad to us.
It’s only because we’re contrasting it with “all.”

If at first I tell you, you get to have “all” the cookies—
but then I tell you, no, you get to have “many”—
that sounds like a step down.

But take the word “all” out of the picture.
If the word “all” had never been used in the first place,
there’s no reason for “many” to sound bad to us.
Because the natural and logical counterpoint to “many” is what? How about “few”?

And that is the very question—regarding salvation—
that comes up so often in Scripture!

At one point, the disciples asked:
“Lord, will only a few people be saved?”
That was what everyone was asking:
is salvation only for a handful?
Can only the rich be saved?
Can only the Jews be saved? Is it only a few?

And the Lord’s words at the Last Supper are his rebuttal:
“for many.”

Even so, the Lord could have said “all.” So, why didn’t he?

First, while it is true that Jesus’ death
is available for all people, if they respond,
that doesn’t mean all people are guaranteed heaven.

The Gospel we heard is pretty stark:
if we don’t live as Jesus commands,
we risk being sent to the Lord’s left—with the goats.

We have no idea who or how many will,
ultimately, be saved.
It’s certainly less concerning
if we assume salvation is easy,
and everyone, or nearly everyone, makes it.
That’s the downside of the translation we’ve been using.
In any case, whoever is saved, it won’t be “few”!
Many times the Lord makes clear
that they will come from
“east and west, north and south.”
The “many” will be vast number;
the Book of Revelation says an uncountable multitude.

But there’s something more here.
One of the things the Lord was mindful of
was the Old Testament passages that foresaw
his coming as Messiah.

And none are more vivid than what Isaiah said
about God’s “servant,” “the just one,”
whose suffering and death “shall justify the many.”
This phrase appears several times in Isaiah’s prophecies.

In other words, this is about fulfilling those prophecies.
Not only did the Lord himself know the prophecies—
he realized his disciples knew them too.

He was extremely mindful,
especially on Holy Thursday and Good Friday,
of how his actions would fulfill those passages.

Recall when Peter pulled out his sword, Jesus said,
“Put back your sword…
Do you think that I cannot call upon my Father
and he will not provide me
with more than twelve legions of angels?
But then how would the scriptures be fulfilled
which say that it must come to pass in this way?”

So at the Last Supper, the Lord was determined
that even his choice of words
should fulfill the words of Isaiah.
Ever the Good Shepherd,
Jesus wanted us not to have the least cause for doubt
that he is truly our Messiah!
As we say in the Creed: “in fulfillment of the Scriptures.”

This is our last weekend using the old translation.
When you come to Mass next weekend,
you’ll hear it all the first time,
and we’ll all pray the it together for the first time.
It will sound somewhat different, and for awhile,
that’s what we’ll notice. But it’s the same Mass.

Remember, the Lord said,
“do this in remembrance of me.”
In the end, we are attempting, as best we can,
to carry out the Mass faithfully.

Faithful to what the Church teaches us,
faithful to prayers that were handed down
from the early Church,
faithful to the texts of the Bible,
and faithful even to Jesus’ own choice of words.

Sometimes—as in this case—
we find the Lord’s words jarring.
But we don’t paper them over.
We recall just what he said, the way he said it.

If they make us ponder, so much the better.

Penn State: What are they thinking?

I hesitated to post on this because of the potential for cheap shots, but here goes...

When I read the grand jury information that was published about the now infamous scandal involving a former coach at Penn State University, I got pretty angry, as we all did.

But I had an additional reason to be frustrated: why, even in the last ten years (when much of this abuse happened), are people still, seemingly, clueless about obvious warning signs and boundary violations?

According to the grand jury information:

> The coach--Sandusky--was hosting boys overnight in his home.
> He was traveling alone with boys.
> Individual boys were seen in his company frequently, including at picnics, parties, football games and other events.
> He was working out with individual boys and showering with them.

Before we even get to the allegations of abuse and assault and rape, these items right here should have been and should be immediate red flags.

Speaking for myself, nothing like this happens, or should happen, with any priest. God knows the Church, and priests, will have a black eye for decades to come because of the terrible crimes of a few priests, and the failure of oversight of too many bishops.

Folks should know that--at least in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati--the situation has changed drastically:

> I am obliged never to be alone with children, the only exception being when hearing confessions. When it happens inadvertently--say kids are getting ready to serve Mass and no other adult is around--I go and stand in the doorway of the sacristy so folks attending Mass can see me, even if I'm putting on a vestment at that time.

> I never enter the bathrooms in the school anytime there are children in the building; if I do, I'll use the faculty bathroom only.

> When invited by family and friends to stay at their homes when traveling, if they have children under 18 I decline. And because I don't want them to misunderstand, I have explained it to the parents. Some of them have been angry, not at me, but at the rule being so strict. I'm not sure that every priest would take it that way, but I asked the chancellor about it and he agreed with my understanding of the rule.

> Children are almost never in my home. The exceptions are when they come with a parent, or when children stop by on Hallowe'en. When they do, I never pass out the candy, I have a couple from the parish do it.

> Similarly, other adults, either employees or volunteers, must likewise observe very similar rules about not being alone with children.

> All employees or volunteers who work with children must undergo a fingerprinting and background check, including clergy. This must be renewed periodically. We spend a fair amount of money and a lot of time keeping track of all this.

> All employees or volunteers who work with children must take part in an orientation about these rules, including their responsibility to report any information about possible harm to a child, in any setting, past or present. I have made several reports, or had staff do so (if they received the information directly). We are very careful about it. In practice, because no one wants to err and fail to report something, we report even rather sketchy information, that I cannot imagine is any help to law enforcement. That said, there is a constant concern that something will be omitted, and a harm will continue.

> Related to that last point, I had a situation where this came up in the midst of counseling an individual. The individual had come to me to seek advice on this very subject. Because the law, and the Archdiocese, require me to report what they told me--and yet, they had come to talk to me expecting confidentiality--I saw no choice but, at that very moment, to advise the folks that I would have to report what they told me. Sadly, they clammed up and shared no more about it. I never saw them again. The situation involved another family member they believed was harming a child. I did what I had to do and I'm not second-guessing it; however, please note that, in that instance, my role as a counselor to this family ended as a result. They chose to say no more, knowing that I was bound to disclose information to law enforcement.

Anyway, that's a sampling of what Archdiocesan volunteers, clergy and employees deal with--our awareness. I'm still wondering what folks are thinking up there in Happy Valley?

Parents, please: if your son or daughter tells you about going on trips or going to the gym with a single adult, isn't that odd to you? Staying overnight in the adult's house? Don't you hear a bell going off?

Ok, in this case, the parents were absent. But who, at these public events, seeing this grown man with ten- or 12-year old boys going around with him, doesn't think that is odd? I never do this; who does this? Is this happening all the time and I'm not aware of it?

If you go to the Y, and you know there's an adult male who is bringing in boys not related to him, doesn't that set off an alarm bell? Coaches come through locker rooms at schools, and when I was boy, and we went to the pool, we changed and showered in a locker room with other boys and men around--but there were lots of people around, it wasn't solitary.

In the grand jury information--which is likely incomplete and probably not all accurate--there was one parent who, when her son came home with wet hair, did the exact right thing. She asked, "why is your hair wet?" When her son told her he'd been showering with the coach, the parent got upset (rightly--because that wasn't part of the plan) and started asking more questions.

Parents, I'm not excusing myself from my own responsibility, to observe good boundaries, and to be watchful. But I do think some of these things could be prevented if parents asked more questions. "Whose house do you want to stay overnight at?"

Let me know what you think.

The treasures of Scripture in the Mass (#4 Homily on new translation)

We continue to look at the new translation of the Mass,
which we will start using in full in just two weeks.
Once again, I’d invite you to take out the red booklets in your pews
as we look at some of the prayers, and see how they have changed, and why.

Take a look at page one—where it says “Penitential Act”—
you’ll see the prayer we call the Confiteor.

How does it change?

The translators restored, to the English version of this prayer,
a line that was always in the Latin: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa;
in English, that translates,
“through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.”

As Mass prayers go, this is relatively new—only 900 years old!

You might recall that our Lord told the story of a Pharisee and a tax collector,
praying in the temple.

The Pharisee was proud of his spiritual accomplishments;
but the tax collector “stood off at a distance
and would not even raise his eyes to heaven
but beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’”
But remember it was the tax collector who went home justified,
because he humbled himself.
I think part of the reason this prayer includes that very gesture,
of striking our own chest, is to help us remember the Lord’s words.

You might wonder why Mass begins with an act of penance—
either this, or one of the others.

The reason is because when we enter the Mass,
we’re entering spiritually into the Holy of Holies—
the true sacrifice of the Lord himself, which he offers for us.
The Mass makes no sense unless we recognize our need for salvation.

Let me highlight another change in the prayers,
which you’ll find on pages 14 and 15.

First, look at what the priest says—it changes a little:

“Behold, the Lamb of God”…this is when the priest holds up the Body and Blood.
The Host—the Lamb of Sacrifice—has been broken.
This is what John the Baptist said when Jesus came to be baptized:
behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.
“Behold” is a good word: because it means to hold in ones gaze—
we don’t just glance at the Lamb,
we fix our gaze on him, especially in that he died for us.

Notice the response we all say together will change:

“Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof…”

That, too, is a Scripture passage.
Recall when the Roman soldier asked Jesus to come and heal his servant,
these are his words.
But now we ask not that a servant be healed, but that our soul be healed.

Again, it makes crystal clear why we need the Eucharist:
to heal our sinfulness in anticipation of heaven.

As you can see, the revised translation is bringing back
to the surface the Scriptural images that are in the Latin,
but which were not so clear in the English we’ve been used to.

You’ll hear the same thing in the prayers the priest will say,
such as the Eucharistic Prayer, or in other prayers the priest uses.

One of the things the Second Vatican Council wanted to happen
was to enable all of us to have more of the treasures of Scripture
shared with us more through the Mass.
One way to do that was to have more Scripture read at Mass;
but having the prayers of Mass translated into English in this way,
so we can more easily recognize those Scriptural images, helps as well.

The Gospel today talks about the Lord’s servants being given “talents.”

Remember, by “talent” the Gospel doesn’t mean our abilities,
such as singing or painting;
in the Lord’s time, a “talent” was a unit of weight,
and when applied to gold or silver, it meant an amount of money.
A talent was approximately 57 pounds—in silver coins,
that is the equivalent of nine years of wages!
Thus, five talents would be 45 years of earnings, a huge amount.

So this isn’t even about money either; instead its about spiritual wealth:
the supernatural gifts God gives us.
The point is, God gives us his supernatural help very generously.

What are these supernatural riches?
Speaking broadly, they are all the graces God gives us, in the Holy Spirit,
to seek him, to be forgiven, to be changed, and to be kept close to him.

As in the Gospel passage, the more we share God’s riches,
we don’t lose—we gain. We grow richer.
The only one who ends up with nothing
is the one who tries to hoard his treasure, rather than put it to use.

We’ve been talking about the details of the Mass—
which is our greatest treasure.
We “invest” that treasure in other people—
by helping them experience it.
Maybe during this Mass, you might think—and pray for—
those people you want to invite to come, next week?

What is this?

I just got home from having dinner; I like to go out for dinner on Sunday night--the end of my week. I flipped on the TV, having no idea what channel it would be.

I'm checking things on my laptop while something comes on the TV. I look up, listening, watching with disbelief...what is this?

I mash the clicker so it tells me what channel and show it is. "Desperate Housewives." Mmm-hmm. Never watch it. Not starting tonight. Explains everything.

Changed channel to some mindless but not overly offensive, silly movie: "Day After Tomorrow." Any port in a storm. Maybe I'll find a football game?

"Desperate Housewives." Our culture is insane. Sad. We used to have a culture. It's almost 1o pm on Sunday. Too late to dwell on it. Our Catholic schools need to inculcate our next generation in the culture we used to have. Parents? Teach your children well.

'Consubstantial' (Homily 3 on the new Mass translation)

As we continue to prepare for our new Mass translation,
Let’s look at the Creed we profess every Sunday.
If you take out those red books,
we can look on page 5
and see what’s different.

The first thing you’ll notice is we’ll now say “I believe,”
not “we believe.”

The reason for that change
is that it emphasizes that not only is this Creed
something we say together,
it is also something personal for each one of us.

Then, scan down to where it says to bow.
Notice the wording changes to,
“was incarnate of the Virgin Mary”;
it used to say, “was born of the Virgin Mary.”

Why this change?
Well, because what we’ve been using was inaccurate;
The point the Creed makes is not about when Jesus was born,
but the fact that he became human through Mary—
which, obviously, happened before his birth:
in fact, when he was conceived, nine months before.

Now, let’s focus on a change that has gotten a lot of attention.
Scan up a four lines, and you’ll see the word, “consubstantial.”
That replaces “one in being.”

This change has raised some hackles.
Some object it’s a hard word to understand;
but that can’t be helped:
it’s describing a reality that’s just as hard to understand.

Now what I’m going to say here is kind of heavy.
Please bear with me.
This is one of the most profound mysteries of our Faith,
so it’s supposed to be hard stuff.

This Creed was adopted by the Council of Nicea in AD 325.
They had a particular thing they wanted to say
about God’s true nature.
They prayed and debated over key words—
and this was one of them.
The thing is, what they were trying to say
is just doggone hard to say.

So why isn’t “one in being” good enough?
The problem is not that it’s false, but that it’s not precise.

It’s not a stretch to imagine describing two ordinary human beings—
say, two spouses—as “being one” or “one in being.”

Consubstantial means something much more specific than that.
It’s describing a reality that only applies to God.
It means that what the Father is—as God—the Son is too.
But not two “substances”; but only one.

So, when two spouses become “one,”
they don’t cease to be separate human beings.
However close they are, they aren’t one
in the way that only God, himself, can be “one.”
The bishops at the Council—struggling for the right word—
were trying to say this: whatever God is, there’s only one;
and the Son is that one and same reality.

The issue, back then, was whether Jesus is God.

And even if you call Jesus “God,” what do you mean?
Is he “sort of” God? Is he a kind of a junior God?

Even to this day, a lot folks take “Son of God” to mean
that Jesus is somehow less than God the Father.

Notice how people will say, “God and Jesus.”

So the Creed was intended to make as clear as a bell
that Jesus truly, really and totally is God.

What the Father is, as God, the Son is too.
One and the same—to the nth degree.

OK, so what’s that mean to us?

It has to do with what our eternal hope is.
Paul told us in the second reading,
the goal of our Faith is to be with Jesus forever.

If Jesus is not God—why is he our hope?

If he is only near God—
that means “near” is as close as we’ll ever come.


But here’s the truth the Creed tells us:
When we become one with Christ through baptism,
and we stay with Christ through our life,
and we go to be with him in eternity,
our destination isn’t somewhere in the “neighborhood” of God.
We’re not going to be in the cheap seats!

Our future “home address” is the heart of the Son—
which is also the “consubstantial,” one and same
heart of the Father.

Another practical application:
for everyone who wonders why we Catholics
make such a huge deal about the Eucharist: here it is.

Our “communion”—union with—is with Jesus himself.
And this Creed tells us, that is also union with God the Father.
Every time we are at Mass, we are challenged to ask ourselves:
am I ready for this? Have I fasted?
Do I believe what the Church teaches me?
Do I live as a Catholic?
Have I confessed my sins?
Am I at peace with my neighbors?
Am I ready to say, “I believe?”

New Missals arrived today!

Oh what a relief!

I ordered six new missals--the book of prayers used at the altar by the priest for Mass--several months ago. At that time, the expectation was delivery in October. When October was almost out of days, I emailed Magnificat, and got a cryptic, worrying reply, to the effect of, we're looking for our delivery from the printers soon, then we'll ship them out as we can...

So as soon as I got word that the box had arrived, I scurried downstairs like a boy on Christmas day.

I invited the staff to "come see the new missals"; I ripped open the box, to find...

Those styrofoam peanuts--what do you do with those?

We cleared those out...another box. And inside there: our six, new, "chapel edition" missals.

In case you're wondering, the chapel editions are smaller and less expensive; I decided I would hold off investing in larger, more elegant missals, until I could see them for myself, and to wait and see how things shake out. For example, would there be printer's errors, in the rush to get things ready? Would there be second thoughts about how things were done, once we all started using the missals?

While I'm not complaining about the missals that arrived, I can already say I'm glad I did that. Having seen this missal, I can see features that I'm not sure I will prefer; now that all the publishers' missals are available for inspection, I will be able to make a better judgment.

OK, so what do I think about the new missal?

> It's a lot thicker; my assistant isn't sure it will fit in the Mass kit.

> The pages are thin; I wonder how that will work out for turning.

> This chapel edition gives me tabs to affix; they aren't very substantial so I don't expect them to last. I've affixed the tabs to one edition; I'm thinking about looking for tabs I can buy that might work better.

> There aren't enough tabs. As much as it pains me to say a good word about Catholic Book Publishing's outgoing "sacramentary," it did have a series of tabs for the Eucharistic prayers. This is helpful because it makes turning the pages much easier.

Also, this edition will involve more page-turning during the Eucharistic prayer, which is not ideal. I predict that the 2nd Eucharistic Prayer will get more use, because it involves the fewest page turns.

I will be interested to see, with the larger editions, if there are fewer page-turns.

> The artwork in this Magnificat edition is very good. It's simpler than in the higher-price "altar" edition, but there's nothing wrong with this artwork. It's one-color, but very pleasing to the eyes. Some of the other editions had jarring artwork that, when it combined black and red, seemed cartoonish.

> There is more music and that is good. I think some were hoping all the collects for Sundays would be notated for music, but in this edition they are not (are they in any missal?).

> The prayers are organized in some different ways, but so far I think it will work fine.

> I am not happy that Latin was omitted. It would cost about $400-500 to buy a Latin missal, and then it would be necessary to flip from one to the other, in order to offer Mass with the ordinary parts in Latin, but the proper parts in English--which is not only something envisioned by Vatican II, but a very sensible way to use both the vernacular and the Church's own language. I am planning to salvage the Latin pages from the old missals, and create a booklet for this purpose; but unless I have it bound, it will look flimsy and cheap on the altar.

> There are some prayers that have odd wording, and I wonder if anything can be done about it. I think the overall work is very good, a major improvement. Nevertheless, some things make me wonder: did native-English speakers carefully read--aloud--each of these prayers?

Here's an example, and perhaps someone can tell me, yes, this is proper English:

(for St. Bede, May 25...)

"O God, who bring light to your Church through the learning of the priest Saint Bede..."

Why shouldn't that be, "who brings..."

Is that the long-lost subjunctive mood? I'll have to look that up...

Here's one "For the Election or Enrollment of Names"--i.e., when those preparing for baptism at Easter are accepted, by the bishop, as Elect:

"O God, who though you ever the cause of the salvation of the human race now gladden your people with grace in still greater measure, look mercifully, we pray, upon your chosen ones..."

"Who though you"?

I am not working from the Latin, but I suspect it is trying to say something like:

"O God, you are already the only and ever cause of the salvation of the human race; and now you gladden your people with grace..." etc.

Or is it:

O God, who--although you are the cause..."?

I was trying to figure out how to chant it; then I had a happy realization: only the bishop offers this particular Mass! Let him figure it out!

> I was hoping that all the special "inserts" for the Eucharistic prayers--those that are usable when there is a baptism, or a marriage, for example--would all be placed with the Eucharistic prayer; but in this edition they aren't all, only some. This is actually no change from before; and it's understandable--as noted above, there are already a lot of page-turns, and this would make more. In short, there's no way to square the circle.

> The proper of saints seems to have more proper prayers and texts for the saints, which is good.

> A good change: the Gospel proclaimed at the beginning of Palm Sunday is included in the missal; this will make things easier for priests at that Mass. Good job!

> Some of the rubrics, I'm noticing, are clearer than I recall them being in the outgoing missal. For example, the rubric for the priest's gesture during the nuptial blessing was ambiguous: is he merely extending his hands upward, in the usual "orans" posture; or is he extending his hands over the couple? The latter, in the new missal.

Well, I could go on, but I'll stop there. I'm enjoying flipping through this! I'm glad they are here!

Today's my feast day! (Except in my own diocese!)

Today is my feast day...

Except in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati!

Today, on the universal calendar, is the memorial of the ever-glorious and always-admirable St. Martin de Porres.

And yet, today--in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati--is the day we recall the dedication of Saint Peter in Chains Cathedral! Persuant to church law, that occasion is a solemnity in the cathedral (as is the case for the dedication of any church, in that church), and a feast for the rest of the Archdiocese.

That Feast, as notable as it is, takes precedence over St. Martin--who, being humble and of sweet nature, is I'm sure eager to cede the day to the remembrance of the dedication of God's Temple in Cincinnati.

But I have a secret plan (which actually I've been following for several years)...

As church law allows for a votive Mass, to any saint, on a "ferial day"--that is, a day for which no other feast or memorial is assigned, then next Tuesday will be "St. Martin de Porres day" hereabouts--I'll offer a votive Mass, and pray a votive office, in his honor.

Meanwhile, if you are situated beyond the 19 counties that comprise the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, then you are currently celebrating St. Martin's Day--which means, of course, you are far too busy with parades, parties and other suitable festivities even to notice this post! Don't overdo it!

And, if you are uncertain how to mark St. Martin's Day, remember that St. Martin is the patron of social justice, and he is also renowned for begging food for the poor.

'And with your spirit' (Homily 2 on the new translation)

As you know, we’re doing a series of homilies
the next few weeks on the new translation of the Mass.

If you pick up the red booklets in your pews,
we can take a look at one of the changes
that everyone will notice—
and which we may stumble over at first.

It’s right on page 1. The priest says, “The Lord be with you”;
and the people respond: “And with your spirit.”

Why the change? Well, there’s a lot to this.

First, of course, this is straight from the Latin,
which some of you remember:
Dominus vobiscum. Et cum spiritu tuo.
“And with your spirit.”

OK, but why did they say this in Latin?
It comes from the early church.

We aren’t sure where they got it;
however, it is a phrase that St. Paul uses several times
in the New Testament.
For example, in his second letter to St. Timothy,
he said: “The Lord be with your spirit.”

We do know what they thought it meant.

According to St. John Chrysostom,
this acknowledges the presence of the Holy Spirit
overshadowing the whole assembly—
and acting in a special way in the priest.

The same dialogue happens again when the priest approaches the altar—
you’ll see that on page 10 of these booklets.

And here’s what St. John said about that:
when the priest “stands at this holy altar to offer the sacrifice…
he does not touch” what lies on the altar
“before wishing you the grace of our Lord,
and before you have replied to him, ‘And with your spirit.'”

See that? The idea being
that only with the Holy Spirit does any of this have meaning—
and that’s exactly right.

Of course, the priest and people exchange this greeting once more,
at the end of Mass, before the blessing:
making the point that it is Christ himself who blesses you.

Now let’s connect this to what our Lord said in the Gospel.
But first I have to explain what this Gospel is NOT about.

It’s not about whether a title is good or bad.
Jesus did not object to calling your teacher, “teacher”;
he didn’t object to calling your dad—or your priest—“father.”

No, the Lord is telling us not to focus on the human being;
and not to accept that focus.
And that applies to the Mass.

Let’s look at one more change that goes along with this.

On page 9, right in the middle,
you’ll see what the priest says to you,
right after the bread and wine come to the altar.
The change is that the priest will say,
“my sacrifice and yours”—instead of “our” sacrifice.

Again, why the change?

It makes the point once more:
the priest approaches the altar not on his own steam,
but because he was ordained
to be a priest for Christ and for you.

When the priest says, “my” sacrifice, it reflects this.
And because being a priest means
being united to Christ in a particular way,
it is Jesus himself who says, “my sacrifice.”

Then the priest says, “your” sacrifice.

It’s what our Lord told us about the Cross.
He took up the Cross in a unique way—
dying for us so we could live forever.

But then he says to us: “take up your cross.”
He invites us to bring all our troubles,
our trials, yes even things very unworthy—
but when we give them to him,
he will make them of infinite value!


We often talk about “participation” in Mass,
but there is sometimes a misunderstanding.

Sometimes we talk as though
what really counts is whether we’re doing something:
singing, reading, bringing the gifts forward, and so forth.

As good as these things are,
they don’t determine whether people are truly “participating.”
Folks who sit silently—but intently—are surely participating too.
They may even be participating better than any of us.
Who can say?

Because the key participation is right here in this prayer:
joining our hearts and lives—warts and all—in the sacrifice;
offering them as our personal sacrifice.

That moment of the Mass—which will happen shortly—
is an excellent time to do just that:
in prayer, lay on the altar all the cares and troubles,
all the people you pray for, all the sins that trip you up.
Don’t be afraid of offering anything as part of your sacrifice. Jesus takes it all!

My week so far...

Here's how the week has gone...

Monday is my usual day off. I had a talk with 9th graders in the afternoon, on "moral decision-making," and a talk in the evening with RCIA, also on morality.

Tuesday I had Mass with the younger schoolchildren and the usual run of calls, messages and items in the office. My desk didn't improve much. I had a meeting in the evening. Dinner around 9, with youth director, home by 10:30 pm.

Wednesday I had both the morning and evening Mass; canon law says a priest should say but one Mass a day, a second in necessary cases. In this case, the retired priest who is with me was in the hospital, and I don't want to overtax the other retired priest in the parish. Usual stuff all day; finalized my homily, loaded it here so it'll publish Saturday; printed out two copies, one for each church sacristy; confessions before second Mass, Bible study followed; spent some time with parishioners at a nearby restaurant. Home by 10:30 pm.

Thursday I had the nursing home Mass. When I arrived they weren't ready; the two usual spots were taken, so we ended up setting up a table in a hall for Mass. After Mass back to the office. Got a lot done this day. Got a call about a death, likely funeral on Monday, had to wait for call back to confirm, which came around 6:30 pm. Had to call bereavement volunteer who will meet with family to plan details. Already have another funeral on Monday, with retired priest; if he gets sick we have trouble as funerals are simultaneous (he's been ill lately). Pastoral Council meeting at 7; that went well, accomplished a lot, finished by 8:30 pm. A member suggested getting some dinner so we did. Home by 10:30 pm.

Can't recall which days I did them, but this week I wrote a letter to send to folks at one parish, asking to volunteer for bingo. Wrote another letter for folks who belong to a "Seven-dollar-a-month" club which raises money for religious education, RCIA and adult faith formation. I also wrote up a plan, to present to pastoral council, about how we can get better volunteer participation. Those all took awhile.

Today: Mass with older schoolchildren, got some breakfast right after and took it to the office. More work at my desk (it's been a terrible mess). Now that I think about it, this week I also spent some time on upcoming Mass schedules, with calls to priests needed for help; a priest called me about helping in January with a class at Lehman, etc. Piled a lot of stuff in my outbox for the staff--I call them "presents"; wrote a talk for Monday for RCIA on Tradition. Chilling a bit before I go down to Trotwood to meet another priest for dinner. Maybe I'll write my homily for All Saints over the weekend? Not now!

Writing and now publishing this post...

Homily 1: how we got the new translation

In about a month, all Catholics in the U.S.—
and in other English-speaking countries—
will begin using a new translation of Mass prayers.

And for the next few weeks,
all the priests here in Piqua are going to talk about this in their homilies.
If you know people who have questions,
maybe bring them to Mass the next few weeks.

Let me provide some history, first ancient, then recent.

While the Eucharist was celebrated in some form right away by the Apostles,
“the Mass” as we know it largely took shape between 4th and 6th century.
And while the first Catholics in Rome probably celebrated the Eucharist in Greek,
it wasn’t long before they began using Latin;
Latin has been the prayer of Roman Catholics for about 1,700 years.

Now skip ahead to 50 years ago.
Blessed Pope John XXIII called the Second Vatican Council.
The bishops did two things that are relevant here.
First, they gave the OK to use local languages in the Mass.
Second, they called for some revisions in the form of the Mass.

So, once the Council ended, the pope asked experts to carry this out.
The Mass as we know it was revised;
and then that revised Mass—still in Latin—
was then translated quickly into lots of languages, including English.

At the time, they expected to revise their work eventually.

One of the things folks are asking is,
does our new translation mean the Mass in English,
that we’ve gotten used to, is “bad”? Have we been praying badly?

I wouldn’t say “bad”—how about this instead?

When I was in high school and college, I wrote a lot of papers.
I used a typewriter. It worked great. I was very comfortable with it.
Then along came the computer.
Even though it took some adjustments,
I was happy to have something that gave me even more advantages.

One of the notable changes is that the new translation has a different style.
Why is that?

In the 1990s, Blessed Pope John Paul laid out guidance
for how to approach the new translation.

When translating something, there are two extremes:
a very literal translation, and at the other end of the spectrum,
a loose paraphrase.
Neither extreme is what you want.

The outgoing translation was more on the “freestyle” side.
It tended to use very ordinary language.
That has benefits, but also drawbacks.

Some people will say they prefer the Mass in a common style of language.

But through our entire history, back to the Bible,
the language of worship has always had a special character—
its own vocabulary and careful ritual.

The Latin texts of the Mass, after they were revised, after Vatican II,
continue to have a formal, elevated style.
This is something the new translation will bring out more.

There are times to use casual English;
and there are times to use a more formal style.
Similarly, we have occasions when we use rituals, and we take them seriously.

Think of when the flag goes up and the National Anthem is sung.

If anything, as our culture has gotten much more casual overall,
we can see the value of stepping out of that,
so that when we do something that is fundamentally different,
it sounds and feels different.

One of the benefits of a more direct translation
is that it also brings out, better, the Biblical images and language
that were always included in the prayers of Mass.

You’ll notice phrases in the newly translated prayers
that echo the familiar Scripture readings at Mass.

Also, the new translation does bring out more
the Roman character of our prayers.
Why is that valuable?

After all, when we call ourselves Roman Catholics,
that one, added word, expresses a long and vivid story
of how we came to be who we are.

Even if we don’t know that story,
it’s our story and it is part of us,
all the way back to Peter and Paul arriving in Rome—
and all that happened since.

This is our spiritual genealogy.
It’s worthwhile to keep it alive and become more familiar with it.

In the Gospel, the Lord teaches us the two commandments
on which everything rests: love God, and care for all his children.
They aren’t at odds; they go together.

We give God our best. Not because he needs it,
but because we are better people for it.
We’re better people when we recognize
our need for God and our need to worship.

Worshiping well makes us better people—
people who serve our neighbor better.
People who forgive more readily
because we know how much we are forgiven.

People who share more generously
because we know all we have comes from God.

People who work for justice in this world
because we know we will face God’s justice in the next.

So we want to worship well—
and the Mass is the supreme act of worship.
That’s why we want to do it as well as we can.

A busy Friday morning

Friday proved to be an interesting...

Let me first back up: several weeks back, I told Father Hess, chaplain at Lehman High School, I'd be happy to offer Mass on a periodic Friday with the students, as before. One of those assigned Fridays was yesterday.

Then, on Monday, I got a call from a local funeral home; we arranged for a funeral...on Friday.

I was away from the office, on my day off, when I took the call.

Come Thursday, it dawns on me--around 2 pm--that I had a Mass at Lehman at 10 am, and a funeral, back in Piqua, 13 miles away--at 11 am.

Add to that, the retired priest who lives with me is ill. I was counting on him for the 8:45 am Mass.

I was at a convocation Thursday with the Archbishop and the priests of the archdiocese, no ability to make phones calls. The retired priest made some calls to retired priests...no luck.

I made calls, asked some of the priests at the convocation...they were all tied up (as I expected).

The retired priest felt up to taking the 8:45 am Mass. While he got ready for that, I got things ready for the funeral, as I would be racing back from Lehman and might not arrive back in a very timely basis.

I advised the principal at Lehman, when I arrived, of the situation; thankfully, this wasn't their first experience with this, so with a P.A. announcement, all the students were in their places (with bright, shiny faces), and we started Mass right at 10 am.

My homily was, almost exactly as follows:

No homily today, I'm sorry. I have a funeral at 11 am. This is why we ask you to pray for more priests. Men: step up and answer the call.

I don't believe we rushed, but we omitted the petitions (which are optional) and a post-communion song. When the servers and I got to the hallway, I took off my vestments and, still wearing my alb, hurried to my car and drove back to St. Mary's with 15 minutes to get ready for the funeral. That went well.

The rest of the day was the usual busy-ness.

Meanwhile, today, I was on the phone arranging--at the last minute--for a priest to cover a Mass tomorrow, in case the retired priest with me doesn't feel better; and another priest to cover his confessions this afternoon. I have Mass, at the other parish, when those confessions are scheduled. Our backup plan was a sign on the confessional.

When your pastor says he has to make changes in the Mass schedule, this is why. It's not because he hates offering Mass. It's because he knows how easily things like this can happen. (And thank heaven I didn't get caught speeding, or have a breakdown, racing down I-75.)

Oh, and did I mention? I'm coming down with a cold.

I hope my voice holds up, I have four Masses this weekend, plus two celebrations parishioners are hoping I will attend; I am marrying a couple at the evening Mass tonight, and receiving someone into the church on Sunday. My off day is Monday, but I have two talks to give, one of which I still have to write.

'Render unto Caesar...' and? (Sunday homily)

Here are my recollections of my points from the weekend; I am sorry I did not find time during the prior week to write things out.

I began by pointing out that a line from this Gospel gets quoted frequently in conversation and political debate: "render unto Caesar"--and when that happens, it is often cited as if to say, Christians shouldn't be political because of what our Lord said; instead we should just keep quiet and leave politics alone.

However, that occurred at a time when there was no option for Jesus or anyone else to whom he was speaking having a role in politics. Had they organized a demonstration or a petition drive for a new Caesar, it wouldn't have ended well! We, however, do have this right--and we have a vote--and this is more than a right, it's a responsibility. In a sense, we are Caesar. What if our congressman never showed up to debate or vote? We'd find fault with that. So we should with ourselves if we don't take part in our government--and we bring our Christian values because that's part of who we are. I cited important votes on the ballot that we should be informed about that will affect our city and our state.

Then I mentioned the other part of the Lord's comments that get left out: "...and repay to God what belongs to God." The coin bore Caesar's image; what "coin" bears God's image? The human being. If we are to let Caesar have his taxes, then Caesar must keep hands off the human person. This is why we must speak up for defense of human life from conception to natural death; why we oppose abortion, baby-destroying stem-cell research, euthanasia; this is why we work to avoid the death penalty, and we are against torturing terrorists.

Then I called attention to the scene itself. From a human point of view, Jesus seems just a poor man--maybe he wore all the clothes he owned; maybe had a few coins, or none. Powerless--and they handed him the coin bearing the image of great Caesar, someone impressive, who was worshiped as a god. Of course, when you realize who Jesus really is, it's a comedy! Picture him beholding the coin, and asking, perhaps wryly, "oh--is this someone important? Who is this?"

Because, of course, the Lord had seen many Caesars come and go through the ages. The first reading recalls Cyrus--who, in his time, was a great emperor who is now forgotten. Many coins bearing many great figures have been placed in the Lord's hand over the ages, none of them matter in the long run.

Consider what that coin represents: money, wealth, things we work for, power, who's up and who's down...these things matter, but do they matter too much? Do we give them too much thought and concern? Meanwhile, we miss...the Hand that is outstretched. All those material things come and go, but His Hand remains. Perhaps we might take a moment to consider if some things dominate our concern...and instead reach out for that Hand.

Another weekend...

Saturday wasn't too bad...

Pet blessing in the morning (every year near St. Francis Day); worked (fitfully) on homily till confessions at 3:30; Mass at 5 pm. Had to run over to other parish before confessions to take care of a few things, took a little longer. After Mass, retired priest who lives at rectory and I had dinner, something that happens rarely.

Sunday up for 7 am Mass; visited children in religious education classes at 9 am, presented Bibles to 6th graders. Mass at Noon; baptism after.

From 3-4:30 pm I was with junior high, giving them some information about the Bible. Back to St. Mary for evening Mass. After Mass, a distraught parishioner needed to talk about a problem, we could only speak a short time before I headed to the nursing home to visit a parishioner. Turns out the parishioner was sent to hospital, so I went there (after visiting other parishioners).

After that I had dinner around 8 pm. Around 9 I remembered I was going to try to stop in at another church in town for a tribute to a soldier who died in Iraq, but the call to the nursing home prevented that.

Sorry no text of homily. I developed some points but never wrote it out.

Briefly, my homily was about heaven. And I explored three points:

> Heaven is good--we don't know a lot about it, but it will be good. However, it may be good in a way we don't, at present, like (and not everyone wants it; note the folks who refused the wedding invitation); because we may have to give up other things for heaven. I compared how some say heaven sounds "boring" with those who say the same for Mass; and pointed out that if you view Mass in a worldly way, it is boring. But the true reality of Mass is anything but. What's more, I said, "let me tell you a secret: when you're at Mass, you're in heaven." And I explained that.

> Heaven is a gift--we don't earn it, we get invited. I said: "we don't go to heaven because we're good; we're good to the extent we're being influenced by heaven." Our spiritual life is the back-and-forth between heavenly influences and what we want that's not heavenly. If we allow it, heaven will draw us and make us ready for heaven. I touched on purgatory here.

> But we do have to get ready for heaven. I explained the fellow who lacked a wedding garment; it seems unfair to have him thrown out, but that detail serves as a warning for us: get ready; be ready in case you are summoned quickly.

The possibility of missing heaven and going to hell is real; or else so much in the Scriptures would be pointless. But God is working really hard to get us to heaven, so we have hope.

I said other things but that is a quick summary.

Today I had my day off, and I'm taking it easy. I saw "Moneyball" which was enjoyable but slow at the beginning. Too much navel-gazing.

What a priest's weekend looks like...

Saturday:

9 am confessions; I was in the confessional till around 10:15 am.

Grabbed some breakfast on the way back to the rectory at the other parish. Made some phone calls after breakfast to take care of some parish business.

Watched a little football! Not often able to do that. But I'd gotten my homily finished earlier in the week.

Mass at 4 pm.

Retired priest and I went to dinner after Mass--he had a gift certificate a parishioner had given him. We had a chance to talk for first time in a week, even though we live in the same house.

This wasn't too bad a day; many Saturdays feature meetings with couples, more time on the phone, writing my homily, or other running around.

Sunday:

9 am Mass

Breakfast after Mass. Chance to pray the office.

Noon Mass

Quick lunch; joined Life Chain in Troy

Back to parish around 3:15-3:30, brief break before 5 pm Mass. (I prayed my office at the Life Chain.)

After 5 pm Mass, I thought (erroneously) I was finished for the day. Went to area restaurant for dinner.

Remembered I was supposed to join youth group; drove back, arrived a little late to happy faces all around.

Had dinner around 8:30 pm.

Finished for the evening? Not so: call from hospital around 12:30 am; back from hospital around 2 am.

Today's my day off; I only had two emails and phone calls regarding parish business.

'The fruit of the Kingdom is Justice' (Sunday homily)

Let’s pick up on the last words we just heard:
What is the fruit of the Kingdom?

The first reading tells us: the fruit of the Kingdom,
the fruit God is looking for, is justice.

In Biblical terms, justice is about the good of the whole;
the good of the whole of each person,
and the good of society as a whole.

God’s definition of justice doesn’t fit our political system very well.

You have one group that will say, it’s all about economic justice.
They’ll pursue every avenue to shift the resources around.
The striking thing is, it’s all supposed to be for the poor;
and yet the poor somehow always stay poor.

But I also have to admit my own bias.
I can afford to be dispassionate about poverty,
When I’m warm and well fed.
It becomes a lot more urgent and real
when you don’t know where you’re sleeping tonight.

But there’s also a disconnect here.
We have some who are hard-chargers for economic justice,
but when it comes to passing laws to protect the unborn,
they’ll say, “that’s different.”
And it happens in reverse, too:
Folks who will work tirelessly for the unborn,
but economic justice? “That’s different!”

Whether or not you like the laws we have,
we do have laws regulating business and the economy.
And yet, somehow,
a law protecting the unborn is too much to ask?
We protect unborn fish and unborn birds—
but not unborn human beings!

Another way God’s justice doesn’t fit our categories
is when we draw lines: marking how far our concern will reach.
Parish lines, family lines, national boundaries.

Sometimes we draw a line between justice and compassion—
As if they can’t go together.
So when someone breaks the rules or breaks the law,
they no longer get compassion.

Case in point: our prison system.
We all know ugly things happen in prison.
When’s the last time you heard a politician
run for office promising to address it?

In God’s Vineyard, justice is not only the fruit God expects,
it’s also what’s needed to make for a good crop.

God knows his Vineyard can produce abundantly.
But the tenants somehow come up empty-handed.
There’s not enough.

If there is one truth both Scripture and experience confirms,
it is that scarcity is a result of human sin, not God’s failure to provide.

Our world has abundant food.
Here and in many countries, we throw away perfectly good food
just because it doesn’t look good enough.
We turn a lot of our food into fuel.
We have countries that can grow food, but don’t,
because of war and corruption.

And yet the claim keeps being made that there’s not enough,
And the solution is fewer people.

So our government has, for years,
used our tax money to distribute birth control worldwide.

Well, turns out the experts who pushed this message all these years,
are now changing their tune.
China, they now admit, will get old before it gets rich: too few children.

Europe, Japan, Russia are all facing the same problem.

We’re the stewards of the Vineyard.
And we’re the ones saying to God, there’s not enough.

Is this why our economy is a wreck? Our world is in crisis?
How badly we’ve mismanaged his Vineyard!

Instead of telling God—and each other—
the problem is his Vineyard,
we have to admit, whether as individuals or as a society,
that the problem is how we approach it.

Sometimes we measure “enough” by the wrong things.
I didn’t like my brother’s hand-me-downs as a boy—
but I had plenty of clothes.
We didn’t have a lot of extra food, but we had enough;
And when mom gave leftovers a French name,
that make all the difference.

These are hard times, and we can’t minimize that.
But I think a lot of us are rediscovering values we forgot about.
The “enough” we have may be a lot simpler.
Not cable or new things, but time with family and friends.

The gift of Faith; the gift of compassion.
These are things we never have a shortage of.