I am on the parish RCIA team, so I have the privilege of helping new Catholics come into the Church. We have both "candidates", those who have been baptized outside the Church, and "catechumens", those who have never been baptized.
Lent is a busy time for us, as we guide these soon-to-be Catholics through the final stages of their preparation to enter the Church at Easter.
Right now, the candidates are about to make their first confession, or Sacrament of Reconcilitation, as it is properly called. Working with these candidates reminds me of the value of penitence, especially the Rite of Penitence within the Mass.
You may know that the words "Mass" and "mission" come from the same root, meaning "to be sent". We go to Mass not to end our week, but to start it--we are sent forth at the conclusion so that we can "love and serve both God and our neighbor."
Within the Mass, the pentitential rite is our way of looking back at the past week so that we can make adjustments to our behavior as we move forward.
Look at it this way: if you are flying an airplane cross-country and your instruments may not be working perfectly, you'll need to periodically check where you are so that you can be sure you'll get where you want to go, and not end up wildly off-course and out of fuel.
Pentitence is our way of looking back at where we've been, seeing where we need to make corrections to get back on course, and also examining what we can do differently going forward to keep from getting lost again.
(Let's take a moment and state that the penitential rite is not about feeling guilty or wanting to punish ourselves for being imperfect. We're all human, and we can take it for granted that that means we have our imperfections. But we need to acknowledge our shortcomings, in what we have done and what we have failed to do, so that we can keep from straying further off course.)
Yes, sometimes these corrections can be difficult or embarrassing. No one likes to admit that he has gone off-course, and sometimes we can be way off.
So let's remember where we are supposed to be going, and use the pentitential rite as a way of checking our course. If adjustments are needed, major or minor, it's better to face up to them than to end up exactly where we don't want to be.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Taking Notes at Mass
Something I've started doing within the last month or so is to bring a notebook with me when I attend Mass. It's helpful to me to remind myself later of some points that Father makes during his sermon--or even when I have some insight into some other part of the liturgy.
I'll write more on that later...for the moment, the point I want to make is that sometimes I get strange, or at least questioning, looks from some of the other parishioners. I guess it's natural enough to wonder at any unusual sight during Mass, whether it's fidgeting kids or someone responding to a text message (and yes, I've seen people do this during Mass).
My point is this: Don't ask why I'm taking notes at Mass. Rather, ask yourself why you aren't.
I'll write more on that later...for the moment, the point I want to make is that sometimes I get strange, or at least questioning, looks from some of the other parishioners. I guess it's natural enough to wonder at any unusual sight during Mass, whether it's fidgeting kids or someone responding to a text message (and yes, I've seen people do this during Mass).
My point is this: Don't ask why I'm taking notes at Mass. Rather, ask yourself why you aren't.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Pigs and Demons
One of the great annual events in Fort Worth is the Southwestern Exhibition and Livestock Show, better known as the Fort Worth Stock Show. It’s an event that lasts over three weeks, and features a rodeo, midway with carnival rides, and most importantly, extensive competitions of livestock judging.
If you’re not from agriculture country, you may wonder exactly how livestock is judged. Actually, it’s a very exhaustive combination of many factors, far too complex to explain here. Anyway, I’m certainly no expert.
I attended the Junior Barrow (pigs) competition for a while, trying to learn what the judges are looking for, but due to crowds, less-than-perfect acoustics and my own less-than perfect hearing, I couldn’t get a lot out of it, though I had a good time.
While I was there, I couldn’t help but recall the story of Jesus driving out the demons from Matthew 8, 28-32 (Or Luke 8, 32-33). You’ll recall that the demons flee into swine, which promptly drown themselves. Whenever I think of this story, often my first thought is that it’s a big waste of pork, and then I think of the swineherds, who were no doubt less than pleased about watching their herds go on a one-way swim.
Of course, the story isn’t about pork, and it’s not just about the spread of the Gospel to gentiles (by clear implication; there are no Jewish swineherds, of course). A modern reader has to wonder whether the references to demons are literal. The typical image that we’d expect today would be something from a bad horror movie.
Well, as with livestock judging, I’m no authority, but for years I had panic attacks, and some were quite severe. Having experienced these major panics, I can easily see how people believed in demonic possession. To me, the onset of an attack felt as though some other person was taking over my thought process. I had to struggle to think rationally at all, and the intense fear was like having someone continually telling me that the worst was about to happen.
Supernatural or not, it seemed supernatural to me, and it was only when I turned to the supernatural for help through prayer that I could consistently gain the upper hand on the attacks. The message, of finding a way to cleanse the spirit of very real, very evil presences can come about through the help of our helper, Jesus Christ.
If you’re not from agriculture country, you may wonder exactly how livestock is judged. Actually, it’s a very exhaustive combination of many factors, far too complex to explain here. Anyway, I’m certainly no expert.
I attended the Junior Barrow (pigs) competition for a while, trying to learn what the judges are looking for, but due to crowds, less-than-perfect acoustics and my own less-than perfect hearing, I couldn’t get a lot out of it, though I had a good time.
While I was there, I couldn’t help but recall the story of Jesus driving out the demons from Matthew 8, 28-32 (Or Luke 8, 32-33). You’ll recall that the demons flee into swine, which promptly drown themselves. Whenever I think of this story, often my first thought is that it’s a big waste of pork, and then I think of the swineherds, who were no doubt less than pleased about watching their herds go on a one-way swim.
Of course, the story isn’t about pork, and it’s not just about the spread of the Gospel to gentiles (by clear implication; there are no Jewish swineherds, of course). A modern reader has to wonder whether the references to demons are literal. The typical image that we’d expect today would be something from a bad horror movie.
Well, as with livestock judging, I’m no authority, but for years I had panic attacks, and some were quite severe. Having experienced these major panics, I can easily see how people believed in demonic possession. To me, the onset of an attack felt as though some other person was taking over my thought process. I had to struggle to think rationally at all, and the intense fear was like having someone continually telling me that the worst was about to happen.
Supernatural or not, it seemed supernatural to me, and it was only when I turned to the supernatural for help through prayer that I could consistently gain the upper hand on the attacks. The message, of finding a way to cleanse the spirit of very real, very evil presences can come about through the help of our helper, Jesus Christ.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Lord, save us! We are perishing!
In the Gospel of Matthew (Chapter 8), we read the story of Jesus and the disciples leaving Capernaum and crossing the Sea of Galilee; a storm comes up, terrifying the disciples, but Jesus calms the storm.
“Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?” Jesus asks.
When storms come into our lives—and they always do—the same question could well be asked of us.
The wind of the storms can and often do terrify us, but we must always keep in mind that the very same winds that seem too strong for us to endure are often the very winds that propel us forward.
Of course, another question of trust enters in when the winds propel us in a direction other than where we think we want to go. Are we willing to endure the winds only if they move us in the direction we want to go? Or do look forward in faith to arriving at the destination God has in store for us?
I don’t know about you, but for me, it is taking a great deal of effort to have this much faith. When my personal boat is taking on water, rolling and yawing and pitching, moving in some direction I can’t understand, I wonder whether my nerves are strong enough to handle it, and can’t help but wonder if maybe there isn’t some other way.
Well, then, what are the alternatives? Matthew doesn’t tell us what happened after Jesus calmed the storm, but I figure that the disciples were left to row across the sea. Now there’s a daunting task. If the uncertainty of waves and wind are daunting, the certainty of a very long and difficult task can be worse.
My parish pastor, Father Paul Kahan, SVD, ends each of his sermons with the words, "Church, remember: God cares deeply about you." Father Paul is a wonderful man, and I believe what he says...but I confess that sometimes I wish those storm winds would ease off just a little.
“Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?” Jesus asks.
When storms come into our lives—and they always do—the same question could well be asked of us.
The wind of the storms can and often do terrify us, but we must always keep in mind that the very same winds that seem too strong for us to endure are often the very winds that propel us forward.
Of course, another question of trust enters in when the winds propel us in a direction other than where we think we want to go. Are we willing to endure the winds only if they move us in the direction we want to go? Or do look forward in faith to arriving at the destination God has in store for us?
I don’t know about you, but for me, it is taking a great deal of effort to have this much faith. When my personal boat is taking on water, rolling and yawing and pitching, moving in some direction I can’t understand, I wonder whether my nerves are strong enough to handle it, and can’t help but wonder if maybe there isn’t some other way.
Well, then, what are the alternatives? Matthew doesn’t tell us what happened after Jesus calmed the storm, but I figure that the disciples were left to row across the sea. Now there’s a daunting task. If the uncertainty of waves and wind are daunting, the certainty of a very long and difficult task can be worse.
My parish pastor, Father Paul Kahan, SVD, ends each of his sermons with the words, "Church, remember: God cares deeply about you." Father Paul is a wonderful man, and I believe what he says...but I confess that sometimes I wish those storm winds would ease off just a little.
Christianity in our culture
I was reading (Fulton Sheen, “These are the Sacraments”) that ancient churches often had the baptistry outside of the church. Yet today, it’s not unusual to have a baptistry near the altar. Is this a problem? I don’t think so; in ancient times, the mysteries of the church were truly that; non-Christians knew so little of the faith that they often believed Christians were cannibals, “eating the flesh and drinking the blood.”
So I take it as a positive sign than Christianity is ingrained enough in our culture that we don’t have to leave the unbaptized out of the picture—in this country, virtually everyone will have at least some idea of Christian rituals, and also know basic Christian teaching, even if they don’t know they know it. (I came across one idiot who claimed to be an atheist, but who said he followed the Golden Rule—apparently unaware of who proclaimed that rule originally.)
If there’s a downside to this, it’s that our ridiculous secular society thinks that they invented it. Charity, equality—they’ve become hallmarks of social and political argument, but there’s nothing historically political about them. They come from a religious background. Were Bismarck or Genghis Khan interested in charity? Only as a political expedient, if that. Did kings promote equality? Hardly; it was in their interest to promote exactly the opposite. It was the monk, not the monarch, who promoted equality among all men. It was the priest, not the politician, who through history insisted on charity.
So I take it as a positive sign than Christianity is ingrained enough in our culture that we don’t have to leave the unbaptized out of the picture—in this country, virtually everyone will have at least some idea of Christian rituals, and also know basic Christian teaching, even if they don’t know they know it. (I came across one idiot who claimed to be an atheist, but who said he followed the Golden Rule—apparently unaware of who proclaimed that rule originally.)
If there’s a downside to this, it’s that our ridiculous secular society thinks that they invented it. Charity, equality—they’ve become hallmarks of social and political argument, but there’s nothing historically political about them. They come from a religious background. Were Bismarck or Genghis Khan interested in charity? Only as a political expedient, if that. Did kings promote equality? Hardly; it was in their interest to promote exactly the opposite. It was the monk, not the monarch, who promoted equality among all men. It was the priest, not the politician, who through history insisted on charity.
I love being Catholic
I need to say it—I love being Catholic. Of course, being in the faith that represents the fullness of truth like no other is powerful and moving, but what impresses me so much is how this truth is reflected in the life and history of the Church.
First, there’s the liturgy. It’s more than just ritual or symbol; its first half (the Liturgy of the Word) is a living expression of God’s word through scripture—and second half (the Liturgy of the Eucharist) is a celebration of the Word made flesh. Through the Eucharist, we can’t get any closer to God than by literal, physical communion!
But there’s more to it than that; Catholicism is so much more than the Mass. This is the faith, after all, that has attracted (or produced, depending on your point of view) more great minds than any other institution. The list of names is nearly endless—from the early fathers like Irenaeus, Origen, Tertullian, Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory Nazianzus, John Chrysostom, Ignatius of Antioch…each brought so much brilliance. Then of course there’s Augustine, who alone seems like the cornerstone of Western civilization. Moving through history, there are almost too many great thinkers and authors to name—Thomas Aquinas, Thomas a Kempis, John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, Ignatius of Loyola, Thomas More…the list just goes on, up to modern times and such greats as Hilary Belloc, GK Chesterton (though I admit I can only take him in moderation), Fulton Sheen and of course our current Pope, Benedict XVI (whom I credit with literally saving my life).
And there are so many other areas that I find moving about the Catholic faith. Architecture, music, art, science…I can’t begin to write anything that conveys the important and beautiful contributions that Catholicism has made to my life and the lives of so many.
Still…all these great topics don’t capture all that is best about the Catholic faith. What keeps the faith alive is its people. Of course not every single person is a saint. But for me, that’s not a negative; I’m no saint myself, so it’s encouraging to me to find others who are on a spiritual journey to improve their lives and the lives of those around them.
With all this being said, what sort of a Catholic do I think I am? An improving one, I hope.
First, there’s the liturgy. It’s more than just ritual or symbol; its first half (the Liturgy of the Word) is a living expression of God’s word through scripture—and second half (the Liturgy of the Eucharist) is a celebration of the Word made flesh. Through the Eucharist, we can’t get any closer to God than by literal, physical communion!
But there’s more to it than that; Catholicism is so much more than the Mass. This is the faith, after all, that has attracted (or produced, depending on your point of view) more great minds than any other institution. The list of names is nearly endless—from the early fathers like Irenaeus, Origen, Tertullian, Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory Nazianzus, John Chrysostom, Ignatius of Antioch…each brought so much brilliance. Then of course there’s Augustine, who alone seems like the cornerstone of Western civilization. Moving through history, there are almost too many great thinkers and authors to name—Thomas Aquinas, Thomas a Kempis, John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, Ignatius of Loyola, Thomas More…the list just goes on, up to modern times and such greats as Hilary Belloc, GK Chesterton (though I admit I can only take him in moderation), Fulton Sheen and of course our current Pope, Benedict XVI (whom I credit with literally saving my life).
And there are so many other areas that I find moving about the Catholic faith. Architecture, music, art, science…I can’t begin to write anything that conveys the important and beautiful contributions that Catholicism has made to my life and the lives of so many.
Still…all these great topics don’t capture all that is best about the Catholic faith. What keeps the faith alive is its people. Of course not every single person is a saint. But for me, that’s not a negative; I’m no saint myself, so it’s encouraging to me to find others who are on a spiritual journey to improve their lives and the lives of those around them.
With all this being said, what sort of a Catholic do I think I am? An improving one, I hope.
Pope Benedict XVI and his critics
Pope Benedict certainly has a lot of critics. Many of them don’t care who he is; he’s head of the Catholic Church, and that’s reason enough to detest him. Others jump to the conclusion that a German Pope must be a dogmatic, repressive, intellectual fossil who’s defending a medieval faith in the best tradition of the Spanish Inquisition. Other have no real opinion, but fall under the influence of critics, and are swayed by them. Finally, there are those who genuinely disagree with the position that the Pope represents—they want to see female priests, or have the Church embrace homosexuality, or something.
For just about all these critics, they are at a severe disadvantage—while they may be louder than the Pope, they are far less intelligent than he is. There’s just no other way to put it.
Because Pope Benedict XVI is one of the great intellects of our ages. This becomes immediately obvious to anyone who reads his works. Admittedly, some of his more theological works can be a challenge—they were not written for a general audience, and take some pretty hard work to appreciate. But for general audiences, the four book-length interviews he has given—starting with The Ratzinger Report in 1985, moving to Salt of the Earth in 1997, God and the World in 2005 (completed just before he was elected Pope) and most recently Light of the World in 2010—the reader encounters a man of stunning knowledge, insight, honestly, moral conviction, mental agility, and candor.
Reading these books doesn’t require a great knowledge of Catholicism…but it helps. The casual reader may be thrown by references to terms like “eschatology”, but keeping dictionary.com handy takes care of that. (While easy enough to do, this simple step is clearly more effort than most of his critics are willing to put forth.)
What is most amazing is that despite his background in academia, Benedict is no idealistic theoretician. His focus remains on the practical steps that the Church must take—and that we as Christian must take—to keep the faith healthy and real. He uses his intelligence to link all these concepts together, not use tortured logic to twist them apart.
If he has a vulnerability, it’s that I think he is disappointed and even shocked at the amount of hostility he faces, especially in the press. He is so straightforward in his manner and mission that I think he can’t understand why so many are so openly hostile. His message is that of love—God’s love for man, man’s love for God, and the Christian love for our fellowman.
What sort of minds find this objectionable?
For just about all these critics, they are at a severe disadvantage—while they may be louder than the Pope, they are far less intelligent than he is. There’s just no other way to put it.
Because Pope Benedict XVI is one of the great intellects of our ages. This becomes immediately obvious to anyone who reads his works. Admittedly, some of his more theological works can be a challenge—they were not written for a general audience, and take some pretty hard work to appreciate. But for general audiences, the four book-length interviews he has given—starting with The Ratzinger Report in 1985, moving to Salt of the Earth in 1997, God and the World in 2005 (completed just before he was elected Pope) and most recently Light of the World in 2010—the reader encounters a man of stunning knowledge, insight, honestly, moral conviction, mental agility, and candor.
Reading these books doesn’t require a great knowledge of Catholicism…but it helps. The casual reader may be thrown by references to terms like “eschatology”, but keeping dictionary.com handy takes care of that. (While easy enough to do, this simple step is clearly more effort than most of his critics are willing to put forth.)
What is most amazing is that despite his background in academia, Benedict is no idealistic theoretician. His focus remains on the practical steps that the Church must take—and that we as Christian must take—to keep the faith healthy and real. He uses his intelligence to link all these concepts together, not use tortured logic to twist them apart.
If he has a vulnerability, it’s that I think he is disappointed and even shocked at the amount of hostility he faces, especially in the press. He is so straightforward in his manner and mission that I think he can’t understand why so many are so openly hostile. His message is that of love—God’s love for man, man’s love for God, and the Christian love for our fellowman.
What sort of minds find this objectionable?
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