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!
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
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...
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...
Saturday, October 22, 2011
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.
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.
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.
Monday, October 17, 2011
'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.
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.
Monday, October 10, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, October 03, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, October 01, 2011
'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.
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.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Homily 5: 'for you and for many'
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 have 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 tell us Jesus said at the Last Supper.
Here is 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 the reason
“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.” Why didn’t he?
First, while it is true that Jesus’s 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 challenging if we assume salvation is easy,
and everyone, or almost 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.
More than that, 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, 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 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.
(Here's the text of the handout I plan to distribute...)
Background on ‘for many’ in the Eucharistic Prayer
New Testament Passages from which the words of the Eucharistic Prayer are taken
The following are the New Testament passages from which the words we hear in the Eucharistic Prayer are drawn together; the first two include “many”:
Matthew 26:27-28:
Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins.”
Mark 14:23-24:
Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many.”
Luke 22:20:
And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you.”
1st Corinthians 11:25:
In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”
Background on the Greek and Latin terms underlying the Matthew and Mark passages:
In Matthew 20 and 26, and in Mark 14, the Greek expression used is pollon—many. In Greek, there are multiple ways to say “for all.” Similarly, in Latin, “for all” would be pro omnes; the Latin text of the Eucharistic Prayer, before and after the Second Vatican Council, is pro multis, “many.”
Other Gospel references to “few” and “many”:
Luke 13:23-24, 29:
Someone asked him, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” He answered them, “Strive to enter through the narrow door, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.
…
And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God. [I.e., there will be many in the Kingdom; but they won’t get there by avoiding the narrow way.]
Matthew 20:28:
Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
Isaiah Chapters 52:13-15 and 53:11-12:
See, my servant shall prosper, he shall be raised high and greatly exalted. Even as many were amazed at him—so marred were his features, beyond that of mortals his appearance, beyond that of human beings—so shall he startle many nations, kings shall stand speechless; for those who have not been told shall see, those who have not heard shall ponder it.
…
My servant, the just one, shall justify the many, their iniquity he shall bear. Therefore I will give him his portion among the many, and he shall divide the spoils with the mighty, because he surrendered himself to death, was counted among the transgressors, bore the sins of many, and interceded for the transgressors.
Note on Aramaic vs. Greek vs. Latin
Scholars point out that in Aramaic, the term that translates “many” is ambiguous, and often was used to mean “all.” This is the reason the translators opted for “all” in the 1970 translation. They reasonably argue that Jesus and the others more likely conversed in Aramaic at the Last Supper, not Greek.
Yet the fact remains that the authors of Matthew and Mark had available in Greek many terms that could have been used to express “all,” yet they chose to use “many.”
We can’t read their minds, but there are several very good reasons for that decision:
1. The most obvious reason would be that Mark and Matthew are relaying accurately the sense of what Jesus actually said. Either they heard it themselves, or they were told by others who were present when he said it.
2. The most compelling rationale for “many” is that it makes the fulfillment of Scripture more emphatic. It lines up exactly with Isaiah’s description of God’s suffering servant (chapters 52 and 53), a passage that strongly foreshadows Jesus suffering and death. Whether Jesus was thinking about this himself—or whether the Gospel writer saw the connection—doesn’t matter, because either way the Gospels are inspired by the Holy Spirit.
3. “Many,” rightly understood, matches exactly what we believe about salvation. To say that “many” will be saved doesn’t exclude the possibility of everyone responding to God’s invitation; it is possible but not certain. On the other hand, “all” can be misunderstood as meaning Christ’s death guarantees everyone’s salvation.
Today I want to look at the one change that I know have 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 tell us Jesus said at the Last Supper.
Here is 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 the reason
“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.” Why didn’t he?
First, while it is true that Jesus’s 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 challenging if we assume salvation is easy,
and everyone, or almost 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.
More than that, 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, 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 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.
(Here's the text of the handout I plan to distribute...)
Background on ‘for many’ in the Eucharistic Prayer
New Testament Passages from which the words of the Eucharistic Prayer are taken
The following are the New Testament passages from which the words we hear in the Eucharistic Prayer are drawn together; the first two include “many”:
Matthew 26:27-28:
Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins.”
Mark 14:23-24:
Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many.”
Luke 22:20:
And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you.”
1st Corinthians 11:25:
In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”
Background on the Greek and Latin terms underlying the Matthew and Mark passages:
In Matthew 20 and 26, and in Mark 14, the Greek expression used is pollon—many. In Greek, there are multiple ways to say “for all.” Similarly, in Latin, “for all” would be pro omnes; the Latin text of the Eucharistic Prayer, before and after the Second Vatican Council, is pro multis, “many.”
Other Gospel references to “few” and “many”:
Luke 13:23-24, 29:
Someone asked him, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” He answered them, “Strive to enter through the narrow door, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.
…
And people will come from the east and the west and from the north and the south and will recline at table in the kingdom of God. [I.e., there will be many in the Kingdom; but they won’t get there by avoiding the narrow way.]
Matthew 20:28:
Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
Isaiah Chapters 52:13-15 and 53:11-12:
See, my servant shall prosper, he shall be raised high and greatly exalted. Even as many were amazed at him—so marred were his features, beyond that of mortals his appearance, beyond that of human beings—so shall he startle many nations, kings shall stand speechless; for those who have not been told shall see, those who have not heard shall ponder it.
…
My servant, the just one, shall justify the many, their iniquity he shall bear. Therefore I will give him his portion among the many, and he shall divide the spoils with the mighty, because he surrendered himself to death, was counted among the transgressors, bore the sins of many, and interceded for the transgressors.
Note on Aramaic vs. Greek vs. Latin
Scholars point out that in Aramaic, the term that translates “many” is ambiguous, and often was used to mean “all.” This is the reason the translators opted for “all” in the 1970 translation. They reasonably argue that Jesus and the others more likely conversed in Aramaic at the Last Supper, not Greek.
Yet the fact remains that the authors of Matthew and Mark had available in Greek many terms that could have been used to express “all,” yet they chose to use “many.”
We can’t read their minds, but there are several very good reasons for that decision:
1. The most obvious reason would be that Mark and Matthew are relaying accurately the sense of what Jesus actually said. Either they heard it themselves, or they were told by others who were present when he said it.
2. The most compelling rationale for “many” is that it makes the fulfillment of Scripture more emphatic. It lines up exactly with Isaiah’s description of God’s suffering servant (chapters 52 and 53), a passage that strongly foreshadows Jesus suffering and death. Whether Jesus was thinking about this himself—or whether the Gospel writer saw the connection—doesn’t matter, because either way the Gospels are inspired by the Holy Spirit.
3. “Many,” rightly understood, matches exactly what we believe about salvation. To say that “many” will be saved doesn’t exclude the possibility of everyone responding to God’s invitation; it is possible but not certain. On the other hand, “all” can be misunderstood as meaning Christ’s death guarantees everyone’s salvation.
Homily 3: The Creed
Did you notice how the first reading talks about
Wisdom not just as a quality—but as if a person?
One of the things the Jewish people were thinking about,
just before Jesus came—when the Book of Wisdom was written--
was this idea that God’s truth is so powerful in the world
that the world can’t exist without God’s Wisdom holding it together.
Of course, when Jesus was born and he revealed to the Apostles
that God is a Trinity of Persons, this idea came to full flower.
So the Gospel of John tells us, Jesus is “the Word”—
the truth of God that spoke the universe into existence and holds it together.
What does that mean to us?
It means two things.
It means that the truth of who God is, and who we are in God, isn’t secret.
It’s been made known to us in Jesus Christ.
And more than that, our knowing God isn’t just knowing things about him,
but having a relationship with him: God dwells in us, in the Holy Spirit.
And the part of the Mass where we really delve into this Wisdom is the Creed.
Along with the rest of the Mass, it too has been newly translated.
Let’s turn to page 5 in those booklets, and take a look at some of the changes.
The first thing you’ll notice is we’ll now say “I believe,” not “we believe.”
Actually, both forms of the Creed come down to us
from the early Church. So why use “I”?
Well, because it emphasizes that while this Creed
isn’t just something we say together; it’s something each of us makes our own.
Then, scan down to where it says to bow.
Notice the wording changes to, “was incarnate of the Virgin Mary.”
This used to say, “was born of the Virgin Mary.”
Why this change?
Well, this more accurately expresses what we believe.
The old version says Jesus became flesh—became human—when he was born;
but this is incorrect. We celebrate his becoming human
nine months before Christmas, at the Annunciation in March,
when he was conceived. That’s when he “became man.”
Now, let’s focus on a change that folks have wondered about.
Scan up a four lines, and you’ll see the word, “consubstantial.”
That replaces “one in being.”
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 isn’t that it’s false, but that it’s not precise.
It’s not a stretch to imagine two people: friends, lovers, spouses—
describing themselves as “being one” or “one in being.”
Consubstantial means something much more specific than that.
It means that what the Father is—as God—the Son is too.
But not two “substances”; but only one.
It’s describing a reality that only applies to God.
So, for example, two spouses become “one”—
but they don’t cease to be individual human beings, individual human souls.
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 junior God?
Even to this day, a lot folks take “Son of God” to mean
that Jesus may not be quite as much God as the Father is.
For example, without thinking about it, folks might say, “God and Jesus.”
With this Creed, they wanted 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 that’s 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 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?”
Wisdom not just as a quality—but as if a person?
One of the things the Jewish people were thinking about,
just before Jesus came—when the Book of Wisdom was written--
was this idea that God’s truth is so powerful in the world
that the world can’t exist without God’s Wisdom holding it together.
Of course, when Jesus was born and he revealed to the Apostles
that God is a Trinity of Persons, this idea came to full flower.
So the Gospel of John tells us, Jesus is “the Word”—
the truth of God that spoke the universe into existence and holds it together.
What does that mean to us?
It means two things.
It means that the truth of who God is, and who we are in God, isn’t secret.
It’s been made known to us in Jesus Christ.
And more than that, our knowing God isn’t just knowing things about him,
but having a relationship with him: God dwells in us, in the Holy Spirit.
And the part of the Mass where we really delve into this Wisdom is the Creed.
Along with the rest of the Mass, it too has been newly translated.
Let’s turn to page 5 in those booklets, and take a look at some of the changes.
The first thing you’ll notice is we’ll now say “I believe,” not “we believe.”
Actually, both forms of the Creed come down to us
from the early Church. So why use “I”?
Well, because it emphasizes that while this Creed
isn’t just something we say together; it’s something each of us makes our own.
Then, scan down to where it says to bow.
Notice the wording changes to, “was incarnate of the Virgin Mary.”
This used to say, “was born of the Virgin Mary.”
Why this change?
Well, this more accurately expresses what we believe.
The old version says Jesus became flesh—became human—when he was born;
but this is incorrect. We celebrate his becoming human
nine months before Christmas, at the Annunciation in March,
when he was conceived. That’s when he “became man.”
Now, let’s focus on a change that folks have wondered about.
Scan up a four lines, and you’ll see the word, “consubstantial.”
That replaces “one in being.”
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 isn’t that it’s false, but that it’s not precise.
It’s not a stretch to imagine two people: friends, lovers, spouses—
describing themselves as “being one” or “one in being.”
Consubstantial means something much more specific than that.
It means that what the Father is—as God—the Son is too.
But not two “substances”; but only one.
It’s describing a reality that only applies to God.
So, for example, two spouses become “one”—
but they don’t cease to be individual human beings, individual human souls.
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 junior God?
Even to this day, a lot folks take “Son of God” to mean
that Jesus may not be quite as much God as the Father is.
For example, without thinking about it, folks might say, “God and Jesus.”
With this Creed, they wanted 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 that’s 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 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?”
Homily 2: 'and with your Spirit'
As you know, we’re doing a series of homilies 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.
St. John Chrysostom said this:
“If the Holy Spirit were not in this your common father and teacher,
you would not, just now, when he”—the priest—
“ascended this holy chair and wished you all peace,
have cried out with one accord, ‘And with your spirit.'”
In other words, what this is all about is God acting here:
the priest acknowledges the Lord in you;
and you acknowledge the Holy Spirit in the priest.
St. John makes the same point
when the priest approaches the altar—
you’ll see this on page 10.
At the altar, the priest sings or says, “the Lord be with you.”
Here’s what he said:
when the priest “stands at this holy altar to offer the sacrifice…
he does not touch that which lies on the altar
before wishing you the grace of our Lord,
and before you have replied to him, ‘And with your spirit.'”
And, then, on page 15,
the people and the priest exchange these words once more,
at the end of Mass, before the blessing.
The point is made again: when the priest gives the blessing,
it is Christ himself who blesses.*
This is part of what the Lord means when he says,
call no one father or master or teacher.
Now, let’s first explain what this 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.
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!
* I am indebted to Mike Aquilina's article, “‘And with Your Spirit’: The big difference in a little phrase,” June 1, 2011; I consulted it September 22, 2011.
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.
St. John Chrysostom said this:
“If the Holy Spirit were not in this your common father and teacher,
you would not, just now, when he”—the priest—
“ascended this holy chair and wished you all peace,
have cried out with one accord, ‘And with your spirit.'”
In other words, what this is all about is God acting here:
the priest acknowledges the Lord in you;
and you acknowledge the Holy Spirit in the priest.
St. John makes the same point
when the priest approaches the altar—
you’ll see this on page 10.
At the altar, the priest sings or says, “the Lord be with you.”
Here’s what he said:
when the priest “stands at this holy altar to offer the sacrifice…
he does not touch that which lies on the altar
before wishing you the grace of our Lord,
and before you have replied to him, ‘And with your spirit.'”
And, then, on page 15,
the people and the priest exchange these words once more,
at the end of Mass, before the blessing.
The point is made again: when the priest gives the blessing,
it is Christ himself who blesses.*
This is part of what the Lord means when he says,
call no one father or master or teacher.
Now, let’s first explain what this 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.
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!
* I am indebted to Mike Aquilina's article, “‘And with Your Spirit’: The big difference in a little phrase,” June 1, 2011; I consulted it September 22, 2011.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Homily series on new translation
Over the next few days, I'm going to post a series of five homilies on the new translation.
They are actually intended to be delivered, beginning October 23, through November 20, Christ the King.
I wrote them early because there will be four other priests, along with me, who will be taking Masses at my two parishes during that time, and I figured if I was going to ask them to go along with this, I owed them as much help as I could. FYI: this doesn't mean I asked or expect them to deliver these, exact, homilies; just that they could have these to work with.
So, since they are ready, I thought if I posted them now, there might be priests who would like to see them. Also, if someone sees something that is incorrect or unclear, I'll be happy to have a chance to fix it.
If you are reading this, but not a priest, you may want to mention this to any priests who you think will find it helpful.
They are actually intended to be delivered, beginning October 23, through November 20, Christ the King.
I wrote them early because there will be four other priests, along with me, who will be taking Masses at my two parishes during that time, and I figured if I was going to ask them to go along with this, I owed them as much help as I could. FYI: this doesn't mean I asked or expect them to deliver these, exact, homilies; just that they could have these to work with.
So, since they are ready, I thought if I posted them now, there might be priests who would like to see them. Also, if someone sees something that is incorrect or unclear, I'll be happy to have a chance to fix it.
If you are reading this, but not a priest, you may want to mention this to any priests who you think will find it helpful.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
'For you and for many'
I was working today on two more homilies for my series on the new translation of the Mass, completing--just moments ago--my first draft for Homily 5, "For you and for many."
You realize this is a tease, right? You have to check back to see it?
While I'm tempted to publish it, I want to let this draft sit a bit, and return to it.
The truth is, this is a fairly deep subject, involving many passages of Scripture. It's not exactly easy to delve into that, in a Sunday homily, without losing people. (And dealing with "consubstantial" was even more interesting! That homily has gone through a lot of editing!)
So I'm going to hold off publishing it--wait just a bit more. I should be able to publish them by mid-October, when I am going to provide them to the priests who will be preaching at Masses here during October and November.
One more to write, for the First Sunday of Advent.
Oh, and I have to write a homily for this coming Sunday! D'oh!
You realize this is a tease, right? You have to check back to see it?
While I'm tempted to publish it, I want to let this draft sit a bit, and return to it.
The truth is, this is a fairly deep subject, involving many passages of Scripture. It's not exactly easy to delve into that, in a Sunday homily, without losing people. (And dealing with "consubstantial" was even more interesting! That homily has gone through a lot of editing!)
So I'm going to hold off publishing it--wait just a bit more. I should be able to publish them by mid-October, when I am going to provide them to the priests who will be preaching at Masses here during October and November.
One more to write, for the First Sunday of Advent.
Oh, and I have to write a homily for this coming Sunday! D'oh!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Working on Mass translation homilies
My day thus far...
Today I finalized one homily, for use next month, on the new translation of the Mass, and have completed a first draft for the next two; six are planned in total.
My first homily gives an overview and explains the principles guiding the translation.
The second discusses "and with your spirit" and how the Holy Spirit is active in the Mass.
The third discusses the Creed, and spends some time on "consubstantial."
When we get closer, I am going to post these early--which I otherwise never do.
In a moment, I'll head to the hospital for visits, then back for a meeting with one of the Pastoral Councils.
Today I finalized one homily, for use next month, on the new translation of the Mass, and have completed a first draft for the next two; six are planned in total.
My first homily gives an overview and explains the principles guiding the translation.
The second discusses "and with your spirit" and how the Holy Spirit is active in the Mass.
The third discusses the Creed, and spends some time on "consubstantial."
When we get closer, I am going to post these early--which I otherwise never do.
In a moment, I'll head to the hospital for visits, then back for a meeting with one of the Pastoral Councils.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
What Catholics Believe about ‘Same-Sex Marriage’
(This is a re-posting of something seen on this page a few weeks ago. After I published this, here, first, I revised this, with the help of reader comments, among others. I wasn't going to re-post it, except a staff member urged me to. This was actually distributed to parishioners the first weekend of September.)
Recently, the legislature and governor of New York changed the definition of marriage, to apply to people of the same sex. In recent years, this has been at issue in several states, and in many state courts—and it may come before the U.S. Supreme Court.
The Catholic Church opposes this redefinition of marriage. As a result, we’ve been criticized as against “progress” and even called bigots. Because this is so often cast as a question of “rights,” we may wonder why the Church teaches what she does.
Let me briefly explain what the Church teaches and why it matters.
First, a surprise: our stance is not based on religion; marriage existed before anyone wrote the first words of the Bible. Marriage arises from human nature itself. Human beings are designed to come together and make a family. This is part of being human and obviously necessary. Marriage is important to the well being of us all.
What’s the harm?
Still, many will say, “So what? Why not just change the law to accommodate the wishes of those who don’t fit this mold? What’s the harm in that?”
Here are four areas of concern:
1. This is a power-grab by government. This is a fundamental change in the whole of society being imposed by the government. To a great degree, we all must go along with it. We teach our children to respect the laws. Laws express the common values of society.
The Archbishop of New York asked a question we can all ask: Who gave the government the right to do this? Redefining marriage means redefining family and ultimately what it means to be human. This is social engineering.
2. This strikes at the peace and cohesion of society. A society isn’t just a collection of individuals, but a community with shared values. People often say, “we shouldn’t impose our values.” But there’s no avoiding it; this is what laws do—they reflect shared values and “impose” expectations on all of us.
What’s happening is new values are being imposed on all of us already. Consider…
> In 2004, the supreme court of Massachusetts redefined marriage to include same-sex unions; a 2005 law changed how “family” was viewed by the state. The Catholic Church, long involved in adoptions, was told that if it deemed only a man and a woman as “family,” that would be illegal “discrimination.” The Church stopped referring for adoptions, rather than comply. Something similar has happened in Washington, D.C.
> In California, the state now mandates public schools teach “gay history” beginning in kindergarten. Where is this leading? What will this mean in practice? Will this affect textbooks or other programs made available to Catholic schools?
> In Canada, we might see a glimpse of our future. A Protestant pastor was charged with a “hate crime” in 2002 when he wrote a letter to the editor saying homosexual acts are sinful. After a lengthy court process, and much expense, he was finally cleared. This was not an isolated incident; it happened to the Catholic bishop of the Diocese of Calgary.
3. Marriage and family are not merely private matters—society rests on this foundation as surely as our homes rest on their foundations. Can anyone seriously argue it has been good for our society in recent years to have marriage become fragile, to have children grow up in broken homes, or grow up without both parents married at all?
4. This is reckless tampering. In recent years, we are better appreciating the importance of treating our ecology with respect. It is complex system which we don’t fully understand; but we are realizing better that polluting water and air, and not respecting the climate, wetlands, and endangered species can ultimately threaten our future.
And yet, politicians are re-engineering marriage and family. As Catholic writer Mark Shea observes, “what can it hurt?” will eventually be followed by, “how were we supposed to know?”
This raises a much broader question:
What does our Faith say about same-sex attraction?
We don’t fully know why some people (1-5% from various studies) experience this attraction. For some, it is a phase, for others it’s deep-seated. Some feel an exclusive attraction, but others don’t. Some try to change and do, but not all. Coming to grips with this at a young age can be very difficult. Some never share this, others are open about it.
Sadly, teasing, cruelty and rejection take a terrible toll. Some young people go through awful trials, and make rash decisions with life-long or even fatal consequences. A lot of folks have serious soul-searching to do about attitudes and behavior toward gay people.
The truth is, our family and friends who wrestle with these feelings ask the same questions we all ask: who am I? Why did God make me? How do I fit in his plan?
The answers—for everyone—are: We are made in God’s image. God made us to know, love and serve him in this life, to be happy with him in the next. We spend our lives discovering our particular vocation, but we are all part of his plan.
Did God make me this way?
Many say this same-sex attraction comes from God. But can we really say that?
People have all kinds of sexual feelings or desires. Will we say every one of them is likewise “God given”—simply because people experience them? Throughout history, faithfulness in marriage has always been a challenge; and people have seriously claimed that they can’t help being unfaithful. Is being unfaithful also “God-given”?
Whether we look at what nature tells us about human sexuality, or what Scripture and Christian tradition say, the answer is the same: that human sexuality is meant for a permanent union of a man and woman, with procreation an inseparable part of this union.
This is why our Faith has always taught that sex before and outside of marriage (including by oneself and porn), and marital acts involving contraception or sterilization, or which deliberately exclude procreation, are all gravely sinful.
Do I matter to God?
Maybe what we’re trying to say is something different: that whoever we are, God loves us. We have worth and dignity. That is true!
Nothing in our Faith allows us to demean or devalue anyone, for any reason. If we’ve ever treated anyone that way, that is a sin on our part. When we present our beliefs about the meaning of human sexuality and the call to chastity, this isn’t to be “anti” anyone.
As Christians, we believe two things that apply here: that human beings are broken and wounded, because of Original Sin; and that Christ, who died to save us, gives us grace to become new people. Having same-sex feelings is just one form of brokenness.
Facing our own brokenness, and bringing it to Christ, are essential to our salvation. Many people can say, “why did this happen to me?” Many people face life long struggles and shame. Christ accepts us where he finds us, but loves us too much to leave us there.
The virtue of chastity
Jesus said, “Take up your cross.” Why did he say it? Maybe because he knew there’s no other way to become truly human.
Our culture ridicules chastity. A lot of heterosexual folks, even Christians, do not embrace chastity themselves; so it seems unfair to ask it of those with same-sex desires.
So, a reminder: Christ calls everyone to chastity, not just some.
Married people are called to be chaste in their relations with each other and with others. This, along with the dying to self that comes in marriage and family, is costly.
Some heterosexuals find they can’t make marriage work. They either attempt it and it ends badly; or they never marry. They also find chastity hard.
And our Lord specifically called some to be chaste for his Kingdom—which is what brothers, sisters and priests do.
We might recall the words of G.K. Chesterton: “The Christian ideal hasn’t been tried and found wanting; it’s been found difficult and not tried.” No one can seriously claim our culture is too “pushy” about chastity and self-control. Just the opposite: what we experience from all sides is the celebration of not just lust, but greed, gluttony, materialism and anger.
Is this set of values working for our society? For families? For children?
We need the virtue of chastity so we can truly possess ourselves; in order to truly give ourselves fully to others. A society that scorns self-denial cannot say “no” and sacrifice for the future—which is at the heart of both our nation’s fiscal woes and health problems, is it not?
But chastity isn’t just about what you say “no” to; saying “no” to something that feels good, or really is good, means saying “yes” to a greater good. This is what soldiers do; what faithful spouses and parents do. It is what Jesus Christ did! It’s what each of us is called to do.
What is our Catholic answer?
To those who experience same-sex attraction, you are part of the Body of Christ. You are always welcome. Your priests will readily help with the sacraments and spiritual support. (See below for a link to Courage, a Catholic organization of those with same-sex attraction living their faith.) Every Catholic should be equally ready to provide true friendship and support. I’m here to help: call me to speak confidentially if you wish.
It has never been easy to answer Jesus’ call. In every age, some part of his message has always been rejected because it was too challenging.
When the prophet Habbakuk asked God why society was not listening to God’s words, the Lord said, “Write down the vision…the vision still has its time…wait for it.”
—Father Martin Fox, Pastor, St. Mary & St. Boniface Parishes, August 2011
References:
“Bishop Henry calls for overhaul of human rights commissions,” Catholic Civil Rights League, accessed July 28, 2011, online here; “Bishop Fred Henry's letter to the Premier of Alberta,” Catholic Education Resource Center, 2008, accessed here.
“California to Require Gay History in Schools,” New York Times, July 15, 2011, accessed here.
Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraphs 1602-1605; accessed here; paragraphs 2337-59, accessed here.
“Catholic Charities stuns state, ends adoptions,” Boston Globe, March 11, 2006, accessed online at:
here.
Courage: Catholic Apostolate for those with same-sex here.
“Same-sex ‘marriage’ law forces D.C. Catholic Charities to close adoption program,” Catholic News Agency, February 17, 2010; accessed here.
Recently, the legislature and governor of New York changed the definition of marriage, to apply to people of the same sex. In recent years, this has been at issue in several states, and in many state courts—and it may come before the U.S. Supreme Court.
The Catholic Church opposes this redefinition of marriage. As a result, we’ve been criticized as against “progress” and even called bigots. Because this is so often cast as a question of “rights,” we may wonder why the Church teaches what she does.
Let me briefly explain what the Church teaches and why it matters.
First, a surprise: our stance is not based on religion; marriage existed before anyone wrote the first words of the Bible. Marriage arises from human nature itself. Human beings are designed to come together and make a family. This is part of being human and obviously necessary. Marriage is important to the well being of us all.
What’s the harm?
Still, many will say, “So what? Why not just change the law to accommodate the wishes of those who don’t fit this mold? What’s the harm in that?”
Here are four areas of concern:
1. This is a power-grab by government. This is a fundamental change in the whole of society being imposed by the government. To a great degree, we all must go along with it. We teach our children to respect the laws. Laws express the common values of society.
The Archbishop of New York asked a question we can all ask: Who gave the government the right to do this? Redefining marriage means redefining family and ultimately what it means to be human. This is social engineering.
2. This strikes at the peace and cohesion of society. A society isn’t just a collection of individuals, but a community with shared values. People often say, “we shouldn’t impose our values.” But there’s no avoiding it; this is what laws do—they reflect shared values and “impose” expectations on all of us.
What’s happening is new values are being imposed on all of us already. Consider…
> In 2004, the supreme court of Massachusetts redefined marriage to include same-sex unions; a 2005 law changed how “family” was viewed by the state. The Catholic Church, long involved in adoptions, was told that if it deemed only a man and a woman as “family,” that would be illegal “discrimination.” The Church stopped referring for adoptions, rather than comply. Something similar has happened in Washington, D.C.
> In California, the state now mandates public schools teach “gay history” beginning in kindergarten. Where is this leading? What will this mean in practice? Will this affect textbooks or other programs made available to Catholic schools?
> In Canada, we might see a glimpse of our future. A Protestant pastor was charged with a “hate crime” in 2002 when he wrote a letter to the editor saying homosexual acts are sinful. After a lengthy court process, and much expense, he was finally cleared. This was not an isolated incident; it happened to the Catholic bishop of the Diocese of Calgary.
3. Marriage and family are not merely private matters—society rests on this foundation as surely as our homes rest on their foundations. Can anyone seriously argue it has been good for our society in recent years to have marriage become fragile, to have children grow up in broken homes, or grow up without both parents married at all?
4. This is reckless tampering. In recent years, we are better appreciating the importance of treating our ecology with respect. It is complex system which we don’t fully understand; but we are realizing better that polluting water and air, and not respecting the climate, wetlands, and endangered species can ultimately threaten our future.
And yet, politicians are re-engineering marriage and family. As Catholic writer Mark Shea observes, “what can it hurt?” will eventually be followed by, “how were we supposed to know?”
This raises a much broader question:
What does our Faith say about same-sex attraction?
We don’t fully know why some people (1-5% from various studies) experience this attraction. For some, it is a phase, for others it’s deep-seated. Some feel an exclusive attraction, but others don’t. Some try to change and do, but not all. Coming to grips with this at a young age can be very difficult. Some never share this, others are open about it.
Sadly, teasing, cruelty and rejection take a terrible toll. Some young people go through awful trials, and make rash decisions with life-long or even fatal consequences. A lot of folks have serious soul-searching to do about attitudes and behavior toward gay people.
The truth is, our family and friends who wrestle with these feelings ask the same questions we all ask: who am I? Why did God make me? How do I fit in his plan?
The answers—for everyone—are: We are made in God’s image. God made us to know, love and serve him in this life, to be happy with him in the next. We spend our lives discovering our particular vocation, but we are all part of his plan.
Did God make me this way?
Many say this same-sex attraction comes from God. But can we really say that?
People have all kinds of sexual feelings or desires. Will we say every one of them is likewise “God given”—simply because people experience them? Throughout history, faithfulness in marriage has always been a challenge; and people have seriously claimed that they can’t help being unfaithful. Is being unfaithful also “God-given”?
Whether we look at what nature tells us about human sexuality, or what Scripture and Christian tradition say, the answer is the same: that human sexuality is meant for a permanent union of a man and woman, with procreation an inseparable part of this union.
This is why our Faith has always taught that sex before and outside of marriage (including by oneself and porn), and marital acts involving contraception or sterilization, or which deliberately exclude procreation, are all gravely sinful.
Do I matter to God?
Maybe what we’re trying to say is something different: that whoever we are, God loves us. We have worth and dignity. That is true!
Nothing in our Faith allows us to demean or devalue anyone, for any reason. If we’ve ever treated anyone that way, that is a sin on our part. When we present our beliefs about the meaning of human sexuality and the call to chastity, this isn’t to be “anti” anyone.
As Christians, we believe two things that apply here: that human beings are broken and wounded, because of Original Sin; and that Christ, who died to save us, gives us grace to become new people. Having same-sex feelings is just one form of brokenness.
Facing our own brokenness, and bringing it to Christ, are essential to our salvation. Many people can say, “why did this happen to me?” Many people face life long struggles and shame. Christ accepts us where he finds us, but loves us too much to leave us there.
The virtue of chastity
Jesus said, “Take up your cross.” Why did he say it? Maybe because he knew there’s no other way to become truly human.
Our culture ridicules chastity. A lot of heterosexual folks, even Christians, do not embrace chastity themselves; so it seems unfair to ask it of those with same-sex desires.
So, a reminder: Christ calls everyone to chastity, not just some.
Married people are called to be chaste in their relations with each other and with others. This, along with the dying to self that comes in marriage and family, is costly.
Some heterosexuals find they can’t make marriage work. They either attempt it and it ends badly; or they never marry. They also find chastity hard.
And our Lord specifically called some to be chaste for his Kingdom—which is what brothers, sisters and priests do.
We might recall the words of G.K. Chesterton: “The Christian ideal hasn’t been tried and found wanting; it’s been found difficult and not tried.” No one can seriously claim our culture is too “pushy” about chastity and self-control. Just the opposite: what we experience from all sides is the celebration of not just lust, but greed, gluttony, materialism and anger.
Is this set of values working for our society? For families? For children?
We need the virtue of chastity so we can truly possess ourselves; in order to truly give ourselves fully to others. A society that scorns self-denial cannot say “no” and sacrifice for the future—which is at the heart of both our nation’s fiscal woes and health problems, is it not?
But chastity isn’t just about what you say “no” to; saying “no” to something that feels good, or really is good, means saying “yes” to a greater good. This is what soldiers do; what faithful spouses and parents do. It is what Jesus Christ did! It’s what each of us is called to do.
What is our Catholic answer?
To those who experience same-sex attraction, you are part of the Body of Christ. You are always welcome. Your priests will readily help with the sacraments and spiritual support. (See below for a link to Courage, a Catholic organization of those with same-sex attraction living their faith.) Every Catholic should be equally ready to provide true friendship and support. I’m here to help: call me to speak confidentially if you wish.
It has never been easy to answer Jesus’ call. In every age, some part of his message has always been rejected because it was too challenging.
When the prophet Habbakuk asked God why society was not listening to God’s words, the Lord said, “Write down the vision…the vision still has its time…wait for it.”
—Father Martin Fox, Pastor, St. Mary & St. Boniface Parishes, August 2011
References:
“Bishop Henry calls for overhaul of human rights commissions,” Catholic Civil Rights League, accessed July 28, 2011, online here; “Bishop Fred Henry's letter to the Premier of Alberta,” Catholic Education Resource Center, 2008, accessed here.
“California to Require Gay History in Schools,” New York Times, July 15, 2011, accessed here.
Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraphs 1602-1605; accessed here; paragraphs 2337-59, accessed here.
“Catholic Charities stuns state, ends adoptions,” Boston Globe, March 11, 2006, accessed online at:
here.
Courage: Catholic Apostolate for those with same-sex here.
“Same-sex ‘marriage’ law forces D.C. Catholic Charities to close adoption program,” Catholic News Agency, February 17, 2010; accessed here.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
A cross was left standing (Sunday homily)
When we think about the anniversary
we mark this weekend--
that it falls on a particular Sunday--
and then there are readings, which come up every three years…
Were you struck by the so-called “coincidence” of these readings, on this weekend?
It’s not coincidence. It’s Divine Providence.
What did we hear? About anger and wrath, About the sinner who “hugs them tight”;
And about vengeance. About the choice of forgiveness--or refusing mercy.
And about God’s healing.
A group of people we didn’t know about hugged tight their wrath, and they attacked us.
Even though war and killing are as old as mankind,
Still that day changed us; we’ll never forget.
Our nation responded.
We all support our President--then and now--
When he has to take action to defend us.
And we have no words good enough for our fellow citizens, many in our families,
who answer the call, with some paying the ultimate price, to keep us safe.
Now--we have the right and the responsibility to defend ourselves.
That is not in question.
But let’s face it: we used what tools we have--we struck back, hard.
How is this going to end?
We all want to know God’s answer: why does evil happen?
Well, we know why. Because human beings chose sin.
It only takes one domino to fall--they all fall.
There are two answers to evil in the world--
yes, even for God, there are only two responses:
Coercion or conversion. God can force us, take away our freedom, and we’ll be good robots;
Or we can change.
And what our Lord was saying to Peter, what he says to us:
We can hit back--or we can forgive; we can be reconciled.
We can hit back; as a nation, we have the right.
But if all we use is our might, until we kill everyone who hates us, the cycle won’t end.
Reconciliation starts to look a little more practical.
When World War II ended, we had to be reconciled to our enemies.
Would we be better off if we hadn’t?
Is forgiveness hard? Oh yes; some of you know that better than I do.
What Peter couldn’t understand-- and wouldn’t, until after Good Friday--
was that the Cross wasn’t just a really bad thing that happened to Jesus.
The Cross is every sin--in Peter’s case, every sin against him,
and every one he was guilty of.
But then start multiplying:
From Adam who failed his wife, Eve,
Cain, who killed his brother,
Right down through the ages.
All of it--the wars, the greed, the obscene cruelty,
slavery, violence and indifference:
That towering, festering pile of evil was dumped on Jesus, on the Cross!
Jesus says, turn the other cheek? He turned his a billion times infinity.
He tells us, forgive seventy times seventy? He forgive infinity times forever.
What if he hadn’t? Where would any of us be?
Is there anyone who can walk into heaven by right?
Who doesn’t first have to stop at the Cross, to leave our sins?
That’s the price. To be forgiven, forgive.
In this time of war and terror, you and I as Christians have a role to play
our government, our nation, can’t take.
Our government is using the tools it has.
Those protecting us are doing their best.
But there’s something more.
Someone has to say to those who hate us, who choose death,
“In Jesus’ Name, we forgive!
Bin Laden and others chose to die, so they could destroy others.
Look at Jesus: here is your God! He chose to die, that he might save others.
To save you, bin Laden; to save you, al Qaeda. Jesus died for you.”
Remember that day? In the mangled steel of the twin towers, remember?
There was a cross left standing. A coincidence? No.
Amidst all the war and wrath, someone has to lift up the Cross to our world.
that it falls on a particular Sunday--
and then there are readings, which come up every three years…
Were you struck by the so-called “coincidence” of these readings, on this weekend?
It’s not coincidence. It’s Divine Providence.
What did we hear? About anger and wrath, About the sinner who “hugs them tight”;
And about vengeance. About the choice of forgiveness--or refusing mercy.
And about God’s healing.
A group of people we didn’t know about hugged tight their wrath, and they attacked us.
Even though war and killing are as old as mankind,
Still that day changed us; we’ll never forget.
Our nation responded.
We all support our President--then and now--
When he has to take action to defend us.
And we have no words good enough for our fellow citizens, many in our families,
who answer the call, with some paying the ultimate price, to keep us safe.
Now--we have the right and the responsibility to defend ourselves.
That is not in question.
But let’s face it: we used what tools we have--we struck back, hard.
How is this going to end?
We all want to know God’s answer: why does evil happen?
Well, we know why. Because human beings chose sin.
It only takes one domino to fall--they all fall.
There are two answers to evil in the world--
yes, even for God, there are only two responses:
Coercion or conversion. God can force us, take away our freedom, and we’ll be good robots;
Or we can change.
And what our Lord was saying to Peter, what he says to us:
We can hit back--or we can forgive; we can be reconciled.
We can hit back; as a nation, we have the right.
But if all we use is our might, until we kill everyone who hates us, the cycle won’t end.
Reconciliation starts to look a little more practical.
When World War II ended, we had to be reconciled to our enemies.
Would we be better off if we hadn’t?
Is forgiveness hard? Oh yes; some of you know that better than I do.
What Peter couldn’t understand-- and wouldn’t, until after Good Friday--
was that the Cross wasn’t just a really bad thing that happened to Jesus.
The Cross is every sin--in Peter’s case, every sin against him,
and every one he was guilty of.
But then start multiplying:
From Adam who failed his wife, Eve,
Cain, who killed his brother,
Right down through the ages.
All of it--the wars, the greed, the obscene cruelty,
slavery, violence and indifference:
That towering, festering pile of evil was dumped on Jesus, on the Cross!
Jesus says, turn the other cheek? He turned his a billion times infinity.
He tells us, forgive seventy times seventy? He forgive infinity times forever.
What if he hadn’t? Where would any of us be?
Is there anyone who can walk into heaven by right?
Who doesn’t first have to stop at the Cross, to leave our sins?
That’s the price. To be forgiven, forgive.
In this time of war and terror, you and I as Christians have a role to play
our government, our nation, can’t take.
Our government is using the tools it has.
Those protecting us are doing their best.
But there’s something more.
Someone has to say to those who hate us, who choose death,
“In Jesus’ Name, we forgive!
Bin Laden and others chose to die, so they could destroy others.
Look at Jesus: here is your God! He chose to die, that he might save others.
To save you, bin Laden; to save you, al Qaeda. Jesus died for you.”
Remember that day? In the mangled steel of the twin towers, remember?
There was a cross left standing. A coincidence? No.
Amidst all the war and wrath, someone has to lift up the Cross to our world.
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Latest...
Sorry it's been pretty hectic.
Last weekend was extremely busy, between four Masses for the weekend, a funeral, preaching at a fifth Mass; then we had the Heritage Festival in Piqua and I helped out with the two parishes' booths on Monday. Then I came down with a nasty cold and was sick for two days, now I'm back to work.
Sorry for no homily for last weekend; my homily included a financial report for St. Mary Parish, and I think it's not appropriate for me to post those details online; not secret, but not the business of anyone outside the parish, I think.
Same thing this coming weekend regarding St. Boniface.
Last weekend was extremely busy, between four Masses for the weekend, a funeral, preaching at a fifth Mass; then we had the Heritage Festival in Piqua and I helped out with the two parishes' booths on Monday. Then I came down with a nasty cold and was sick for two days, now I'm back to work.
Sorry for no homily for last weekend; my homily included a financial report for St. Mary Parish, and I think it's not appropriate for me to post those details online; not secret, but not the business of anyone outside the parish, I think.
Same thing this coming weekend regarding St. Boniface.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Offering our best (Sunday homily)
As you know, our bishops, working with the pope,
have prepared a new English translation
of our Mass prayers.
Next weekend, our parishes will begin
using some of the newly translated prayers.
This is with the permission of the Archbishop. *
While we’ll start using all the prayers
at the end of November,
the Archbishop allowed for a few to be used
starting in September.
The three prayers we will begin using next weekend are:
the Gloria, the “Holy, Holy,”
and the new “Memorial Acclamations,”
which are the response when the priest says,
“Mystery of Faith.”
(At 7 am:
even though we don’t always sing these at this Mass,
we’ll still start reciting them so we get used to them.
In your pews, you’ll see this red booklet (hold up booklet).
Let’s look at it together.
This contains all the people’s prayers
that are the same week in, week out.
When Advent comes,
we’ll be using this booklet for the whole Mass;
but we’ll use it for these few prayers to start with.
Let’s take a look together, starting with the Sanctus,
on page 10: it changes only a little.
Instead of “Lord God of power and might,”
it will be “Lord God of hosts.”
You might wonder, why this change?
This is a phrase straight from Scripture.
“Hosts” means “armies”—but here it means
the heavenly hosts: God’s “armies” of angels.
One of the goals with the new translation
was to bring out more clearly the Scriptures
and Scriptural images being referred to.
On the next page (page 11), you can see the three choices
we will have for the Memorial Acclamation.
The first one looks new; but it is actually what was written,
in the new Mass right after the Council.
The reason it’s new to us is that it’s only now
being translated in a direct way.
Till now, what we were using at Mass were loose paraphrases of this.
So the bishops decided we should use this prayer,
and they also reworked two of the ones we’ve been using,
and they are dropping two others.
Now let’s look at the Gloria, back on page 3.
This changes a bit more, and it’s worth looking at
because it helps illustrate the reasons
the Mass needed to be translated anew.
If you look at this—keeping in mind
what we’ve been used to—you’ll notice right away
the new translation puts back in whole phrases
that were left out of the prior translation.
Remember, when the Mass was first translated into English,
right after the Second Vatican Council, they felt the need to move quickly.
Everyone then assumed the translation we’ve been using all this time
would be revised.
No one expected it to wait 40 years!
So, now we’ll be praying the Gloria more closely
with what it says in Latin—and in Spanish—
and in German—and so forth.
Not only that, this revised translation is now much more in line
with what Orthodox and Protestant Christians say when they use this prayer.
You can read more about it in the bulletin.
Now, let me explain two other things
about how we’re going to approach the new translation.
Starting at the end of October,
all the priests will take time, over several weeks,
to address the rest of the translation in their homilies.
We’ll be able to learn and appreciate the Mass better—
which is something a lot of folks want to do.
Also, starting next week, when we sing these prayers,
we’re going to use the simple, chant setting
that is contained in these books.
We are trying to “ramp up” and take this on
piece-by-piece, so it’s not overwhelming.
I do ask that you resist the temptation to “borrow”
one of these booklets. We’re counting on
these staying in church for at least the next year.
If you want a copy, please call the office
and we will happily sell you one for a dollar—
but we can’t have them disappear from the pews!
OK, we’ve been talking about the Mass.
Did you notice, in the second reading,
Saint Paul talks about the importance
of our “spiritual worship”—
and offering our bodies as a “living sacrifice”?
What he is saying is that how we live our daily lives
is a mirror of what we do in our worship together.
On Sunday, we all join the priest in offering
the Sacrifice of Christ—the Mass, the Eucharist.
The rest of the time, we’re spread out, in our community,
being a bearer of Christ to others.
If we came to church today,
and found the tabernacle was gone;
or if we found out there was no Mass;
how would we react?
We’d be broken hearted: we’d ask, where is the Lord?
We come here to meet Christ here;
This parish, each of us, is like a living tabernacle,
so that people know Jesus is with them.
The Mass is the sacrifice the Church offers,
acting as one;
our day-to-day life is the “living sacrifice”
each of us offers as individuals.
In the Mass, Jesus gives us everything,
including his true Body and Blood.
Paul says, we give exactly the same back in return!
We give our body and blood, our lives, our soul,
our choices and decisions, to Christ.
Oh but it’s hard!
What would change, if we truly gave Jesus our tongue?
If these eyes belong to Christ,
would we go all the same places online?
Giving Christ our hands, our feet might mean
we spend more time helping others or spreading Faith.
But this gives a good way to pray:
At this Mass—or later—
we might think about the gifts and talents we have,
in our bodies, in our minds and selves, and asking:
Christ, these are yours.
How shall they serve you today?
* I didn't think it was important, in my homily, to go into the following detailed explanation.
Archbishop Schnurr has given every parish permission to begin using these prayer texts starting September 10-11. I asked, and received, his permission to start a week earlier, because we are doing a series of talks at Mass, at one parish, regarding stewardship, and I wanted to address this subject, in a homily, before beginning to use these new prayers. The opportune time for that was this weekend, not next; and I thought it would be better if the weekend we started using these texts followed right after that homily.
have prepared a new English translation
of our Mass prayers.
Next weekend, our parishes will begin
using some of the newly translated prayers.
This is with the permission of the Archbishop. *
While we’ll start using all the prayers
at the end of November,
the Archbishop allowed for a few to be used
starting in September.
The three prayers we will begin using next weekend are:
the Gloria, the “Holy, Holy,”
and the new “Memorial Acclamations,”
which are the response when the priest says,
“Mystery of Faith.”
(At 7 am:
even though we don’t always sing these at this Mass,
we’ll still start reciting them so we get used to them.
In your pews, you’ll see this red booklet (hold up booklet).
Let’s look at it together.
This contains all the people’s prayers
that are the same week in, week out.
When Advent comes,
we’ll be using this booklet for the whole Mass;
but we’ll use it for these few prayers to start with.
Let’s take a look together, starting with the Sanctus,
on page 10: it changes only a little.
Instead of “Lord God of power and might,”
it will be “Lord God of hosts.”
You might wonder, why this change?
This is a phrase straight from Scripture.
“Hosts” means “armies”—but here it means
the heavenly hosts: God’s “armies” of angels.
One of the goals with the new translation
was to bring out more clearly the Scriptures
and Scriptural images being referred to.
On the next page (page 11), you can see the three choices
we will have for the Memorial Acclamation.
The first one looks new; but it is actually what was written,
in the new Mass right after the Council.
The reason it’s new to us is that it’s only now
being translated in a direct way.
Till now, what we were using at Mass were loose paraphrases of this.
So the bishops decided we should use this prayer,
and they also reworked two of the ones we’ve been using,
and they are dropping two others.
Now let’s look at the Gloria, back on page 3.
This changes a bit more, and it’s worth looking at
because it helps illustrate the reasons
the Mass needed to be translated anew.
If you look at this—keeping in mind
what we’ve been used to—you’ll notice right away
the new translation puts back in whole phrases
that were left out of the prior translation.
Remember, when the Mass was first translated into English,
right after the Second Vatican Council, they felt the need to move quickly.
Everyone then assumed the translation we’ve been using all this time
would be revised.
No one expected it to wait 40 years!
So, now we’ll be praying the Gloria more closely
with what it says in Latin—and in Spanish—
and in German—and so forth.
Not only that, this revised translation is now much more in line
with what Orthodox and Protestant Christians say when they use this prayer.
You can read more about it in the bulletin.
Now, let me explain two other things
about how we’re going to approach the new translation.
Starting at the end of October,
all the priests will take time, over several weeks,
to address the rest of the translation in their homilies.
We’ll be able to learn and appreciate the Mass better—
which is something a lot of folks want to do.
Also, starting next week, when we sing these prayers,
we’re going to use the simple, chant setting
that is contained in these books.
We are trying to “ramp up” and take this on
piece-by-piece, so it’s not overwhelming.
I do ask that you resist the temptation to “borrow”
one of these booklets. We’re counting on
these staying in church for at least the next year.
If you want a copy, please call the office
and we will happily sell you one for a dollar—
but we can’t have them disappear from the pews!
OK, we’ve been talking about the Mass.
Did you notice, in the second reading,
Saint Paul talks about the importance
of our “spiritual worship”—
and offering our bodies as a “living sacrifice”?
What he is saying is that how we live our daily lives
is a mirror of what we do in our worship together.
On Sunday, we all join the priest in offering
the Sacrifice of Christ—the Mass, the Eucharist.
The rest of the time, we’re spread out, in our community,
being a bearer of Christ to others.
If we came to church today,
and found the tabernacle was gone;
or if we found out there was no Mass;
how would we react?
We’d be broken hearted: we’d ask, where is the Lord?
We come here to meet Christ here;
This parish, each of us, is like a living tabernacle,
so that people know Jesus is with them.
The Mass is the sacrifice the Church offers,
acting as one;
our day-to-day life is the “living sacrifice”
each of us offers as individuals.
In the Mass, Jesus gives us everything,
including his true Body and Blood.
Paul says, we give exactly the same back in return!
We give our body and blood, our lives, our soul,
our choices and decisions, to Christ.
Oh but it’s hard!
What would change, if we truly gave Jesus our tongue?
If these eyes belong to Christ,
would we go all the same places online?
Giving Christ our hands, our feet might mean
we spend more time helping others or spreading Faith.
But this gives a good way to pray:
At this Mass—or later—
we might think about the gifts and talents we have,
in our bodies, in our minds and selves, and asking:
Christ, these are yours.
How shall they serve you today?
* I didn't think it was important, in my homily, to go into the following detailed explanation.
Archbishop Schnurr has given every parish permission to begin using these prayer texts starting September 10-11. I asked, and received, his permission to start a week earlier, because we are doing a series of talks at Mass, at one parish, regarding stewardship, and I wanted to address this subject, in a homily, before beginning to use these new prayers. The opportune time for that was this weekend, not next; and I thought it would be better if the weekend we started using these texts followed right after that homily.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
The Church, the lonely prophet (Sunday homily)
In today’s Gospel the Apostles face a choice:
Play it safe; or a make a commitment
that changes everything.
When the Lord asks an easy question:
“What are folks saying about me?”
They all offer the safe answer: “a prophet.”
Then, Jesus puts them on the spot:
“And who do you say that I am?”
They all fall silent. Waiting for someone else to answer.
Simon steps out alone:
“You are the Anointed One: the Son of the Living God.”
Even early in life—when we’re kids in school—
we face the choice of melting into the crowd,
or standing up and standing out, for what is right.
It’s not fair that others hang back,
waiting for us—but that’s life.
That gnawing in your stomach? That’s normal.
That voice that tells you to speak up?
That’s your conscience.
And however hard it is to do,
what feels even worse is the regret
that comes from knowing what you should have done,
but didn’t find the nerve to do.
Simon commits himself.
That’s when Jesus says: “You are Peter—you are Rock—
And upon this Rock I will build my Church.”
Jesus makes a promise here:
The Rock will stand, the Church will stand; and she has.
Peter was not super-human. Remember his story.
He was a fisherman; he was part of a small business
with his brother Andrew, as well as James and John,
who all joined him in following Jesus.
Peter had a wife and likely had children.
So, like a lot of us, he had a lot to lose.
One of the things this brings up
is what this passage tells us about the Church.
We believe that Christ has promised
the Church would stand firm till the end.
We believe Christ protects the Church,
in a supernatural way, from teaching error.
When we talk about the pope,
or a council of the whole church,
being “infallible,” this is what we mean.
The first reading helps us understand why.
God’s People were in trouble;
God empowers a new leader,
to be a “peg in a sure spot”; a father to Jerusalem.
The pope is our “holy father,”
But not for his sake; for our sake.
To say the Church, the pope, are “infallible”
has to be understood correctly.
It doesn’t mean he knows who will win the World Series.
It doesn’t even mean he knows the answer to every question
about God, or Jesus, someone could ask.
But it does mean this:
on those special occasions when the Church as a whole,
or the pope acting for the Church,
gives formal teaching about God, about right and wrong,
then God acts to prevent the Church, or the pope,
from including error in that teaching.
Now, if you want, you will find popes
whose lives were far from admirable.
And you don’t have to look long for a story
that claims the Church messed up on this or that matter.
First, I’d say, don’t believe all you hear.
The facts are often otherwise.
But ultimately, all anyone ends up “proving”
is what we already knew:
that Christ built his Church not from angels,
but from sinful people.
As important as the popes are as leaders,
Christ has kept his promise through more than popes.
We’ve had bold popes; but sometimes they need help:
Here comes St. Catherine of Siena!
Here comes a Little Flower, a St. Francis, a St. Benedict;
Jesus has kept his promise!
Again, it’s not surprising that too often,
too many in the Church—including ordinary folks like us—
were willing to melt into the crowd,
rather than speak up and be alone.
But what we ought to notice is how often,
how constantly, the Church has done what Peter did:
speak up, even when all alone.
You may have heard the claim
that the Church approved of slavery. That’s false.
What’s true is that the Church was often alone
in condemning it; and wasn’t listened to.
You’ve heard the charge that the Church
didn’t do much to oppose Nazism. Again, that is false.
What’s true is that the Church
condemned anti-semitism and fascism.
No less than the New York Times called Pope Pius XII
“a lonely voice” in the darkness.
The Church took great risks in hiding Jews
and others from the Holocaust,
and saved more than anyone other than the Allied armies.
That has often been our role; to be the lonely voice,
the prophet who speaks up to defending human dignity—
and when we do, we are attacked as opposing “progress.”
Pope Paul VI was very alone when he said contraception
wasn’t going to work out very well for society.
When abortion spread—as Pope Paul foresaw—
The Church was often alone in opposing that.
Lately, we are told that research
that destroys tiny, unborn children is justified,
once again, as necessary for “human progress”!
Nevermind that it’s not true.
Research that does not take life
is actually working better.
Everybody likes a prophet we agree with;
We can’t stand a prophet who says we’re wrong.
But that’s exactly when we need the prophet, isn’t it?
Play it safe; or a make a commitment
that changes everything.
When the Lord asks an easy question:
“What are folks saying about me?”
They all offer the safe answer: “a prophet.”
Then, Jesus puts them on the spot:
“And who do you say that I am?”
They all fall silent. Waiting for someone else to answer.
Simon steps out alone:
“You are the Anointed One: the Son of the Living God.”
Even early in life—when we’re kids in school—
we face the choice of melting into the crowd,
or standing up and standing out, for what is right.
It’s not fair that others hang back,
waiting for us—but that’s life.
That gnawing in your stomach? That’s normal.
That voice that tells you to speak up?
That’s your conscience.
And however hard it is to do,
what feels even worse is the regret
that comes from knowing what you should have done,
but didn’t find the nerve to do.
Simon commits himself.
That’s when Jesus says: “You are Peter—you are Rock—
And upon this Rock I will build my Church.”
Jesus makes a promise here:
The Rock will stand, the Church will stand; and she has.
Peter was not super-human. Remember his story.
He was a fisherman; he was part of a small business
with his brother Andrew, as well as James and John,
who all joined him in following Jesus.
Peter had a wife and likely had children.
So, like a lot of us, he had a lot to lose.
One of the things this brings up
is what this passage tells us about the Church.
We believe that Christ has promised
the Church would stand firm till the end.
We believe Christ protects the Church,
in a supernatural way, from teaching error.
When we talk about the pope,
or a council of the whole church,
being “infallible,” this is what we mean.
The first reading helps us understand why.
God’s People were in trouble;
God empowers a new leader,
to be a “peg in a sure spot”; a father to Jerusalem.
The pope is our “holy father,”
But not for his sake; for our sake.
To say the Church, the pope, are “infallible”
has to be understood correctly.
It doesn’t mean he knows who will win the World Series.
It doesn’t even mean he knows the answer to every question
about God, or Jesus, someone could ask.
But it does mean this:
on those special occasions when the Church as a whole,
or the pope acting for the Church,
gives formal teaching about God, about right and wrong,
then God acts to prevent the Church, or the pope,
from including error in that teaching.
Now, if you want, you will find popes
whose lives were far from admirable.
And you don’t have to look long for a story
that claims the Church messed up on this or that matter.
First, I’d say, don’t believe all you hear.
The facts are often otherwise.
But ultimately, all anyone ends up “proving”
is what we already knew:
that Christ built his Church not from angels,
but from sinful people.
As important as the popes are as leaders,
Christ has kept his promise through more than popes.
We’ve had bold popes; but sometimes they need help:
Here comes St. Catherine of Siena!
Here comes a Little Flower, a St. Francis, a St. Benedict;
Jesus has kept his promise!
Again, it’s not surprising that too often,
too many in the Church—including ordinary folks like us—
were willing to melt into the crowd,
rather than speak up and be alone.
But what we ought to notice is how often,
how constantly, the Church has done what Peter did:
speak up, even when all alone.
You may have heard the claim
that the Church approved of slavery. That’s false.
What’s true is that the Church was often alone
in condemning it; and wasn’t listened to.
You’ve heard the charge that the Church
didn’t do much to oppose Nazism. Again, that is false.
What’s true is that the Church
condemned anti-semitism and fascism.
No less than the New York Times called Pope Pius XII
“a lonely voice” in the darkness.
The Church took great risks in hiding Jews
and others from the Holocaust,
and saved more than anyone other than the Allied armies.
That has often been our role; to be the lonely voice,
the prophet who speaks up to defending human dignity—
and when we do, we are attacked as opposing “progress.”
Pope Paul VI was very alone when he said contraception
wasn’t going to work out very well for society.
When abortion spread—as Pope Paul foresaw—
The Church was often alone in opposing that.
Lately, we are told that research
that destroys tiny, unborn children is justified,
once again, as necessary for “human progress”!
Nevermind that it’s not true.
Research that does not take life
is actually working better.
Everybody likes a prophet we agree with;
We can’t stand a prophet who says we’re wrong.
But that’s exactly when we need the prophet, isn’t it?
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