IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE

The following is a series of bulletin articles on the same topic, in their original condition)

(32nd OT A 2020)

Doubtless you’ve seen a spate of lawn signs demonstrating the bearer’s support of a political candidate. A few miles from my uncle and aunt’s home I noticed this bespoke declaration: “I’m an [redacted] / not running for anything / I just wanted a sign.”

“Wanting a sign” is the quasi-Messianic political mentality. “Here at last is the one who shall kiss our collective boo-boo and heal our every ill!” A hasty generalization, of course, but it’s the impression I get from the flags, the parades, etc.

Signs aren’t just for favored candidates. Now they also signal beliefs. “Hate has no place here” was an early favorite. Would anyone be so bold as to exhibit the end of the Apostles’ Creed on their front lawn: “In this house, WE BELIEVE IN THE HOLY SPIRIT / THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH / THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS / THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS / THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY / THE LIFE EVERLASTING”? What a sign it would be!

The winding-down of Ordinary Time is high time to unpack these dimensions of our faith. For now, however, I want to review the pious practice of gaining Indulgences, worth considering in November and all year long.

Sin entails “temporal punishment” alongside the eternal punishment we deserve. Christ forgives the sins for which we repent, taking them upon Himself. But they nonetheless leave a spiritual “residue” that gears us toward future sins, especially if we cling to them, long to commit them again, etc.

Our prayers, works, joys, and sufferings can help alleviate the temporal punishment due to sin, as we offer these on behalf of the faithful departed. Under certain specific conditions, we assist in the Church’s ministry of redemption, applying the “treasury of the satisfactions won by Christ and the saints.”

We don’t (in fact, we can’t) gain indulgences to buy anyone’s way out of hell, we can’t “bank” them against future sins, nor has forgiveness ever been “sold” through this practice. They do not operate in the precise manner of judicial “sentences.”

We must perform the prayer or action with a contrite heart, desiring freedom from all attachment to sin. We receive Holy Communion, go to Confession within a reasonable period, and pray for the Holy Father’s intentions (with, for example, an Our Father, Hail Mary, and Glory Be).

What acts are indulgenced? Options include: an act of Spiritual Communion, a period of mental prayer, group rosary recitation, prayer for the dead at a cemetery, attentive reading of Sacred Scripture, and even the Sign of the Cross. Make a point of helping someone among the Church Suffering; someday it may be you.

(33rd OT A 2020)

Recently I mentioned a yard sign expressing belief in the six final articles of the Apostles’ Creed as something worth displaying. I want to unpack each of those articles. Today, then, is for the Holy Spirit (HS).

His divine personhood was revealed in its proper time even though he is the point of contact with faith and the life of grace. The HS is consubstantial with the father and the son, equally to be worshiped and believed, equally working in the plan of salvation, revealing Christ to the world.

We encounter the HS in the Scriptures, Sacred Tradition, and the Church’s “magisterium” (teaching authority). He comes to us in the liturgy, our own prayer, and the various ministers and ministries that build up the Church.

The major title for the HS is Paraclete or Advocate: someone called to the side of another, like a defense attorney, guiding us in speech and action.

Various symbols represent the HS in the Bible: water, anointing, fire, a seal, a hand, a finger, and a dove. Notice our new old baptismal font prominently features the last symbol.

The Spirit is the Agent of healing, transformation, communion, enlightenment, and peace. He imparts holiness and mission to believers. Jesus promised to send Him after his resurrection to guide the Church to all truth and to unity of faith.

He is at the origin of earthly and heavenly life. Cultivate a relationship with Him today, just for the asking.

(Christ the King A 2020)

Part Two of our “In This House” Yard Sign scaffolds off the Holy Spirit, since the Father and the Son send Him into the Holy Catholic Church” so that Christ’s faithful can be drawn into Trinitarian Communion and understanding of the Paschal Mystery as these are present in the Eucharist.

The Church’s mission is not an add-on to the Spirit’s mission, but its “sacrament” (CCC 738), for He is both Source and Giver of holiness (749). The Apostles’ Creed distinguishes believing the [One,] Holy, Catholic[, and Apostolic] Church from believing in her; this seemingly minute distinction tries not to confuse God with His works. [Nicene Creed added the bracketed parts]

“Church” comes from the Greek ekklesia, “to call out of,” suggesting an assembly of people for a religious purpose. The Hebrew Scriptures referred to Israel upon Mt. Sinai in those terms, so it was (super)natural for the Christian assembly to pick up on it. The Greek Kyriakos (“pertaining to the Lord”) lends itself to the German word for church: Kirche.

These images evoke the Church: Sheepfold, Flock, Field, Building/Household/Dwelling-Place/Temple/Family/People of God, Holy City/New Jerusalem/Bride of Christ. Church Father Tertullian famously asserted, “The world was created for the Church.” Since born of the Father’s heart as the sacrament of God’s communion with man, and foreshadowed by vagrant beloved Israel, why not?

The “happy fault” of Adam’s sin set into motion the eternal plan that God the Son (always with Father and Holy Spirit) would “reconcile the world to Himself.” Israel is Abraham’s brood, whom the prophets accuse of desertion in terms cultic and charitable.

Baptism unites members of the Church as priestly, prophetic, and kingly people to offer sacrifice, proclaim the Word, and extend truth and compassion.

The Church is distinguished by four “official” marks: one (because of her Source, Founder, Soul (HS); holy (because of Christ, though *growing in* holiness because of us); catholic (universal, “according to the whole, for the sake of the whole [human race]”); and apostolic (built on the Apostles who received from Christ and handed on to successor-bishops the teaching and sacraments).

(1st Advent B 2020)

The Church is the “Communion of Saints,” whether we are speaking of those “Militant” (slogging it out on earth), “Suffering” (undergoing Love’s purification from sin), or “Triumphant” (experiencing Love’s embrace in heaven). So this entry might better be renamed “Church, Part Two.”

All members share in the sharing of the spiritual goods that Christ lavishes upon all most tangibly in the Sacraments. Computers on the same network can access and print the same files from their current location. The Holy Spirit assures wireless fidelity to Who and What is being Communicated.

In the Byzantine Liturgy, the priest raises the Lord’s Body and Blood and declares, “Holy Things [sancta] to the Holy [sanctis].” The people remind the priest that One alone is holy. Play-acting? Posturing? Indeed not: though we are sinners, we are holy in our sincere desire to please God.

Where do we find the communion in this communion? In the faith we received from the Apostles; in the sacraments that impart divine life; in the charisms (special graces) that the Spirit distributes variously to be placed at the good of the whole; in the goods each one has and needs; in our mutual solidarity and deference.

We consider Mary herself as a type, or foreshadowing, of the Church. As Mother of God-the-Son, she is mother of us all in the order of grace. She continues to pray for and in us, begging the Holy Spirit to fill and govern the faithful to be such. Her consent to God’s will perfectly models discipleship.

Mary and all saints deserve dulia/douleia, Latin/Greek for “honor.” Mary receives hyperdulia, or exceeding honor. Still it necessarily falls short of the latria/latreia, or worship, we owe God. The Rosary and Angelus especially express that honor, joining us to the contemplating Church. Mary’s charm and glory lay in helping us reflect and respond more deeply, the better to fit ourselves to dwell in the place Jesus has gone before us to prepare.

(2nd Advent B 2020)

The Forgiveness of Sins might be my favorite of these “In This House We Believe In” tenets. It builds on the first three. Our Lord breathed the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles—the Church’s Shepherds—with the specific expectation to forgive sins (cf. Jn 20:22- 23).

Baptism is the primary locus for forgiveness. We don’t tend to think about that because most Catholic baptisms (few as there are nowadays) are sweet, “innocent” children. What sins have they be forgiven of? The Original, for sure, if no personal.

Adults preparing for Baptism do well to prepare for their Baptism with the same examination of conscience that a “convert” would make in his or her first Confession. It’s a life to consider, a life that promises to be changed—because forgiven.

The “movements of concupiscence” endure after the water hits the head: we turn our passions into our masters when they were meant to serve us; it’s harder to recognize what’s true and choose what’s truly good. With the deck so stacked against us, what’s our chance?

Thank God Baptism is not our only opportunity for mercy. “The Church must be able to forgive all penitents their offenses, even if they should sin until the last moment of their lives” (Roman Catechism, quoted in CCC 979).

As with the Eucharist, one wonders how we have failed to “awaken and nourish in the faithful faith in the incomparable greatness of...the mission and the power to forgive sins through the ministry of the apostles and their successors.” No angel can do it, just as no angel became man like God did.

I am but a weak and sinful instrument of Christ the High Priest, to whom He nonetheless has entrusted the power and the command to forgive. But even Jesus didn’t just indiscriminately go about forgiving people who didn’t ask for it.

Wait: there was that one guy He told to “pick up your mat and walk,” though first He said, “your sins are forgiven” (cf. Mt 9:5). That man’s presenting problem was paralysis, but Jesus spotted the deeper paralysis that sin causes the human will, intellect, and passions.

It really was no easier for Jesus to forgive than to cure; which act, however, is easier for us to believe He could and would accomplish in us?

(3rd Advent B 2020)

The week of the “rose” Advent candle and vestments seems appropriate for the IIE column to consider “The Resurrection of the Body,” for Jesus rose from the dead to declare divine vanquishing of sin, suffering, and death.

His Resurrection from the dead becomes the pattern for those who love Him and strive to keep His commandments. Without the Resurrection our belief, our worship, our moral living, and our prayer are vain.

“Hope in the bodily resurrection of the dead established itself as a consequence intrinsic to faith in God as creator of the whole man, soul and body” (CCC 992). What He “bothered” to create, He equally “bothers” to redeem.

Earlier in the Jewish history, one achieved immortality by living in the existence and memory of succeeding generations. By the time of the Maccabees there was a stronger sense of God’s vindication of the just with continued life.

Jesus embodies this hope in His own Person, “the Resurrection and the Life” (Jn 11:25). Each act of bodily resuscitation pointed to that final revival He predicted as “the sign of Jonah” (Mt 12:39).

His first disciples were “witnesses to His Resurrection,” whether as dinner companions or otherwise. Nevertheless the apostolic testimony has had its opponents. Spiritual continuation alone is enough for some people.

The separation of soul from body puts the human person in an incomplete, waiting state. Upon His second coming, Jesus will signal the Resurrection of just and unjust to conditions reflective of their holiness and virtue. “Some to everlasting life; others to reproach and everlasting disgrace” (Dan 12:2).

We will keep a certain intelligibility: people will recognize us, although, please God, we’ll be free of the limitations we experienced on this earth. Mindful of those limitations in ourselves and others, we treat our own and others’ bodies with due reverence. The suffering deserve particular regard.

The death we experience on account of sin is contrary to the Creator’s intention for us, but God the Incarnate Son chose to experience this death, His human body absorbing (for want of a better word) the sins and sufferings of all humanity of every place and time: expiation motivated by and received in love.

This life is, on the balance, a good one. It is a gift of God and we want to make it a gift to God. All the same, especially as time passes, we might experience an increasing longing to be free of “this mortal coil” and to be with God forever. This life is so precious that in no form can we repeat it (no reincarnation!).

Why would we want to? What we do want, however, is to prepare ourselves for Resurrection Life by repenting and confessing our sins frequently, by striving to walk in holiness and virtue, by invoking the intercession of the Mother of God and St. Joseph, patron of a happy death.

(4th Advent B 2020)

The last segment on the Creed: the Last Things! (Life Everlasting)

Hours before sitting down to type this column I visited a local health care facility to commend a sister in Christ to her Creator and ours: “May you live in peace this day, may your home be with God in Zion, with Mary, the Virgin Mother of God, with Joseph, and all the angels and saints.”

Our opportunity either to accept or reject the divine life ends with our death. Precisely how God reveals Himself to our innermost hearts is mysterious and varied, but this much is certain: In His mercy He wants to draw us to Himself and away from all that distracts us from Him.

I am writing this on the memorial of St. John of the Cross, who famously declared, “At the evening of life, we shall be judged on our love.” Upon our death God immediately ratifies our choice for or against Him.

We must confess all mortal sins—serious matter, committed with full awareness and freedom—as soon as possible. There’s no Confession after death.

Even in those attachments we dimly recognize the human person’s longing for complete fulfillment, which only heaven can accomplish in us. In every pleasure we seek, deep down we want divine life and love: we want to be with Christ.

“The life of the blessed consists in the full and perfect possession of the fruits of the redemption accomplished by Christ. He makes partners in His heavenly glorification those who have believed in him and remained faithful to His will.”

The traditional term for the life of heaven is the “Beatific Vision,” which always seemed to me like the largest imaginable movie theatre: everyone facing the same way, feasting their mouths on snacks and their eyes on God. Not quite, I suppose, but the reality is something that hasn’t even dawned on us.

If, as is most likely, our souls remain attached to the sinful patterns in our lives, God will want to purify us. Sonja Corbitt, of Ascension’s “Fulfilled” series asserts that Purgatory is “a Person, Not a Place”: we behold the One Who had been receiving from us far less than He deserved, and the realization of that deficit is painful, yet hopeful.

The Church has long honored the offering of reparation for the faithful departed. The Eucharistic Sacrifice is the greatest prayer to offer, with almsgiving, indulgences, and works of penance a close second.

The free and definitive rejection of divine love is “Hell.” We might wonder how one could possibly get to that point. Apparently, by Jesus’ own admission, it is not only possible, but popular. The temptations against other- centered love are many and enticing, and people don’t clamp onto them by accident.

Ask yourself whether you have committed a violation of the literal sense of any of the Ten Commandments without having repented and confessed it. Numerous other offenses derive from those literal examples and are just as worthy of our honest consideration.

The Lord is all too willing to forgive those who courageously approach Him in the person of His priests, whom he sent to loosen the bonds of sin. Anticipate the Last Judgment now by making an honest Confession.

(Holy Family B 2020)

IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE / IN THE HOLY SPIRIT / THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH / THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS / THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS / THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY / AND LIFE EVERLASTING.

That was the yard sign on someone’s lawn, or at least the digital idea for a yard sign, during the election cycle that now seems forever ago, and seems to be going on forever more.

The only secure transfer of power that will take place is at the end of time, “when Jesus hands over the Kingdom to God the Father after He has destroyed all dominion, authority, and power” (1 Cor 15:24). 

This yard sign series will not continue interminably. Contrary to our experiences or ruminations about it, neither will our life just keep going and going. It will have an Amen—which happens to be the last word of the Creed, as well.

According to the Catechism: “Amen comes from the same root as the word ‘believe.’ This root expresses solidity, trustworthiness, faithfulness. And so we can understand why ‘Amen’ may express both God’s faithfulness toward us and our trust in Him” (1062).

You may remember the “Chalkboard of Catholic Contents” series I recorded several months ago. Newest versions of the Treasury of Prayer booklet contain it. To be precise, they contain the “Chart of Catholic Contents”, because it’s now a simpler graphic instead of a photo of an actual chalkboard. [It also underwent some revision. (Ed.)]

At the bottom of the original photo, I drew a sort of pendulum with two Latin phrases on the sides. On the left was Fides Quae and on the right Fides Qua. The literal meanings of these are: “The Faith Which” and “The Faith By Which.”

We can speak of Faith as both content and relationship. As the existence of both Bible and Catechism indicate, there is a “content,” propositions, stuff we believe regarding the Nature of God and the Church, how it is to be celebrated and lived.

Catechesis had dwelt so much on what we believe (fides quae) that we ignored the value of the believer in the economy of salvation. We might now be reaching the proper balance after some reactionary decades where the value of the relationship ended up eclipsing the content of the faith.

“Amen” circles back to “I believe,” as the word reinforces both fides quae and qua: I believe this (quae) and I believe this (qua).

St. Augustine calls the Creed a “mirror” that we do well to look at, “to see if you believe everything you say you believe. And rejoice in your faith each day” (qtd. in CCC 1064).

God is always the truth of truths, the One faithful to his promises. Jesus’ use of “Amen” in teaching was a way of reinforcing the truth and the importance of what He was going to say. Jesus Himself is the Amen (Rev 3:14), the living proof of the Father’s promised love.

Although we regard the Consecration of the Mass as the “moment of truth” when the Word-become-flesh becomes Food-for-flesh, the entire Eucharistic Prayer is the event. The Eastern Churches call it the “Anaphora,” the “Offering-Up.” How do you pin mystery to a moment?

If anything, the Consecration finds completion in the “Great Amen,” where priest and deacon raise the Holy Things for the view of the Holy God and His Holy People in a word of glory (the literal meaning of “doxology”): Through/with/in Christ, all glory is Yours, Father forever. And the people say? ______!

Obstruction of Justice

Today is World Youth Day. Instituted by Pope Saint John Paul II, this has been an annual celebration of the youth of the world, who are not only the Church's future, but her present as well.  While WYD is observed every year, Pope Francis thought it would be a good idea to hold the current biennial en masse celebration in Krakow, JPII's hometown, especially because it is the Year of Mercy, and Mercy was perhaps the greatest cause in his pontificate. The theme for the celebration is always taken from scripture; this year's theme is Matthew 5:7, "Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy." 

By giving us the prayer we have come to call The Lord's Prayer, it is true that Jesus wanted to give us the paradigm of prayer "after His own Heart." That's one important thing that people seek from their spiritual mentors. But he also wanted to remind us of how everyone stands before God as beggars, totally dependent upon Him for everything we have and are.

At the same time, Jesus wants his disciples to seek the fullness of life (cf. John 10:10--which was the theme of WYD 1993, which I was privileged to attend). The abundant life that Jesus promises is far more than a list of goods or services that we might demand from God as if they were terms of surrender or for returning a hostage. We're talking about nothing less than participation in the life of the Blessed Trinity.

Is it possible not to want that? More to the point, is it possible to live as if we didn't want it–is it possible to choose against it? Jesus himself insists so. 

While even the pagan philosopher Aristotle noted that everyone desires happiness and fulfillment by nature, it's just that everyone's vision of happiness doesn't line up appropriately with each other's vision–and quite often they fail to line up with God's vision. We can in fact have a scorpion in hand when our son asks for an egg. When Jesus suggests so, we may think it preposterous (and certainly He meant the question rhetorically), but He sneaked in a grain of truth. All of Jesus's parables and comparisons reflect His keen understanding of our fallen human nature.

In this respect he is consistent with the Hebrew Scriptures that He learned. Say what you will about the content of the Old Testament, its divine and human authors knew well our tendency toward selfish corruption. As we read from Genesis, God couldn't even find ten righteous people in the city of Sodom, so He followed through on the decision to cleanse it by fire. As a literal event it may be hard to understand, but in principle not at all. 

Perhaps you've seen this election sign. Given the contemporary state of politics, one might be tempted to cast such a vote.

The Church's Catechism (1867) picks up on a centuries-old teaching tool that lists sins that cry to heaven for vengeance. Not that any sin is acceptable, but these are so heinous in God's sight that He demands immediate and total redress. 

First is the blood of Abel. Recall how God told Killer Cain, "Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground!" (Gen 4:10). The balance of the universe is thrown off by willful murder. Our dignity in the Heart of God ought to be our dignity in each other's hearts; when we treat each other otherwise, we are debasing our own dignity.

Then there is the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah alluded to in today's first reading from Gen 18. It has long been understood as sexual activity that physically contravenes human nature, involving persons of the same sex, or by extension persons of the opposite sex who have made a point of separating the two appropriate purposes of marital love: union and procreation.

More recent authors have demonstrated an amplified sense of their sin, to include a lack of concern for the needy. While this fits in with the other examples of vengeance-seeking sin, the most salient example is the one herein cited. Consult this article for more details.

The cry of the Israelites oppressed in Egypt (cf. Ex 3:7-10) also seeped out of the soil. Having heard it (of course God knew of it, but the Scriptures speak poetically), God decided at length to intervene through the initially unwilling agency of Moses. He may have been carrying around the guilt of his earlier Egyptian homicide, as if to object that he was in no place to advocate the cessation of oppression. That God deems otherwise attests to His mercy.

God's outrage at the cry of the foreigner, the widow, and the orphan is variously attested in the Hebrew Scriptures. These folks in particular were already disadvantaged, lacking their customary means of security. Israel of all nations should know better than to treat anyone as second-class citizens, because she herself had been so considered in her day.

Injustice to the wage earner is also reprehensible to the Lord. When people in power withhold the funds necessary to live a decent life, that is oppression along the lines of the offenses mentioned above.

These sins have one commonality: the intentional obstruction of human flourishing. We may wonder why God does not seem to punish these crimes immediately and unmistakably. Perhaps that will remain forever scandalous. But the consequences of these actions nonetheless proceed. The world is basking (basting?) in them right now.

Our heavenly Father invests us with understanding, freedom, and passions to respond gracefully to Him and to our fellow human beings. Again, we may wonder why God does not prevent people from failing to respond gracefully. But the perhaps central component to today's parable is a dual persistence: God's in allowing us to recognize our sins, repent of them, confess them, and to live forward with renewed attentiveness; and our persistence in doing those very things as often as we sin.

Divine Mercy: The Treatment For Spiritual Sclerosis

In the 1930s, a Polish nun by the name of Maria Faustina Kowalska experienced numerous revelations from Jesus, the most important of which stressed God’s mercy by two means: a special prayer called the “Chaplet of the Divine Mercy,” and the institution of the Sunday in the Easter Octave as “Divine Mercy Sunday.” 

The chaplet’s use began to take off stateside in the 80s, no doubt catalyzed by the efforts of the late Mother Angelica. In 2000, fellow Pole Saint John Paul II acknowledged Sister Faustina’s revelations by canonizing her—the first saint of the new millennium—and by instituting “Divine Mercy Sunday.”

Whatever one might believe concerning the particulars of the revelations, and whether or not one might pray the chaplet, one simply cannot dispute the centrality of divine mercy in the Christian faith. This is true even in the Hebrew Scriptures, which people traditionally, though wrongly, accuse of presenting a grim and ruthless God, as prone to pettiness as we humans are. Consider, among other places, this day’s responsorial psalm, where the sacred speaker praises the Lord’s saving action on his behalf: “I was hard pressed and was falling but the Lord helped me” (118:13). In another psalm, “His mercy endures forever” is the refrain that runs throughout. 

You may retort, “I thought the line was, ‘His love is everlasting’?” Well, what do the Dutch say: “Macht nichts" (Makes no difference)? Indeed, mercy and every other divine quality—even justice—is a reflection of the single, simple ray of Love, such that the only difference we make of it is but a reflection of our human complexity.

Mercy is the decision not to define us entirely according to our instances of unloving. As the second half of the Latin word misericordia suggests, mercy is a matter of the heart, which, according to Scripture, is not the place of feeling, but of identification and decision. It’s where we are. In our wretchedness and lack, God will be all. 

Contrary to classic Lutheran doctrine, we are not totally corrupt. Insofar as God created us, we are good; we can never lose that identification with God and goodness, even though grave sin may harden our arteries to the point where love has no apparent way to flow. In such a sad soul, hell has begun well before physical death. If we identify our need and our desire for love and present ourselves to the Divine Physician, God can put in a stent or even bypass our spiritual sclerosis.

What is both mysterious and consoling is the supreme trust God has placed in His holy Catholic Church to dispense Divine Mercy primarily through the sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation, as well as Eucharist and Anointing of the Sick. From the time of Peter and the other Apostles, the Lord entrusted us fallible, human priests with the authority and command to forgive sins. The first reading from the Acts of the Apostles depicts the many physical healings that took place at the Apostles’ hands. Peter’s shadow continues to fall upon the penitent who approaches with faith and reverence to be renewed in Christ’s abundant life.

Mercy further flows through the actions and words of the disciple who knows that forgiveness personally. “As the Father has sent me,” Jesus says, “so I send you. And when he had said this,” Saint John tells us, “He breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’” to forgive and retain sins. And by the way, the only sins that are “retained” are those for which no forgiveness has been sought. In such a case, genuine forgetfulness to confess is not the issue; shameful pride is the real “silent killer.” 

Do not, then, define yourself or anyone else in terms of sin, as “drunkenness incarnate” or “spitefulness incarnate” or “unbelief incarnate” or “pornography incarnate” or “theft incarnate” or “abortion incarnate,” for that is not who you are. Always, always, trust that you remain “God’s beloved,” one whom God desires to forgive, heal, and restore to His love and life.

Cookie-Cutter Grieving?

The rest of this week is sizing up to be a death march. That is to say, I will be privileged to bury parishioners on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. What do I do with the prospect of needing to put a homily together? Write a blog post, that's what I do!

I am not depressed by death in general, nor with most deaths in particular. Mind you, I am no "Fr. Spock," but I can govern and sublimate the emotions surrounding grief. I know that this...skill? coping mechanism?...comes in handy. Practically (as opposed to theoretically) surprising to some, we  priests remain human beings after ordination. "Grace builds on nature," so our human gifts and limitations all can be directed to God's glory and man's service. Now I don't confidently label my high grief threshold either a gift or a limitation; it's a fact. People experience and express sorrow differently, depending on numerous factors.

An example: My father died in 2004, when I was a couple of weeks into my first of two years teaching high school. There was the initial anxiety of the phone call I got sometime after 9pm while grading papers, and the hour-long drive home; but once I got in the door, I saw Bruno (the dog) and immediately chuckled. Dad didn't very much care for Bruno--and here Bruno, by then about age 15 or so, outlives him! I had to get to work regarding the particulars of Dad's funeral rites--the viewing, the hymns, the homily, etc. Granted, I didn't start that night...at least on paper. It all went as it was supposed to go. My mother and her siblings came together very well, in their own sweet way. Dad's side of the family, too--many of them spent more time with Mom than with their own brother/uncle!

Without many details concerning my personal relationships or my interior state, I simply want to offer some consolation to people about the nature and extent of their grieving. So often I think people are concerned that they have a hard time letting go of their loved ones. They find themselves crying at inopportune times, at seemingly strange moments "apropos of nothing." What for those who shed few or no tears? There is no right or wrong when it comes to grief, although we realize that our own lives are meant to continue and flourish in the wake of those who go before us, whether "marked with the sign of faith" or otherwise.

It may help to consider the relationship we had with the person, with the willingness to ask or grant forgiveness where applicable. Movements in forgiveness certainly ought to be as prompt as possible, ideally while both parties are conscious and cognizant; but even the occurrence of the other person's death is not too late for the sake of our own well-being. Plus, the God who turned water into wine can convey our contrition or compassion to its intended recipient.

In many respects that's how it happened with my father. It took as long as it took for me to become more aware of my failures, and when I did, I needed to get to work. A mentor suggested I visit his grave. This I still do from time to time, most recently with my mother. It helps me to see my own name and year of birth already etched on the tombstone: a stark reminder of mortality. The reminders of my occasional callousness and impatience toward my Dad don't oppress me anymore. They have become an occasion to glorify God for Dad's contributions.

And how about this: just now, as I am finishing this post in order to get over to the school for an unfortunately rare teaching engagement, I heard from a parishioner who conveys the fond memories of a former student of mine at Central. While I am tempted to write off those two years, somehow people remember me fondly. They may not remember much of what I taught them--but I've read that students tend to remember how they felt in your presence. Even there, I know I didn't convey kindness consistently; but may God repair all things in His time and manner, me included.

For-giving, Thanks-giving

I would fain introduce you, Beloved Reader, to aleteia.org. The Greek word means "truth," and this website is all about the search for truth in numerous domains of the human enterprise.

As the Year of Faith concludes, Pope Francis has been tweeting on the topic of forgiveness, among others. Aleteia's Brantly Milligan presents seven such tweets along with a brief preface on the connection between forgiveness and salvation.

For many people the topic of "salvation" seems too distant or remote for immediate consideration. Indebted to our Jewish forebears, we may consider shalom (peace, well-being, health, wholeness) as the sneak-preview, or mortgage payment, of salvation. You can inhabit a house on which you are making mortgage payments!

The forgiving person knows what it is like to be offended. Perhaps, for a time, the offense may beleaguer his emotions; for what human being would not spontaneously feel the pain caused to him or one he loves, or feel the indignant smart of ego? But the merciful one (blessed is he!) does not allow offenses to control his understanding and freedom. Mindful, too, of the times he himself has offended others, he therefore proceeds to forgive--that is to say, to allow the offender the opportunity to regain (or gain for the first time) peace.

To "for-give" is to extend oneself so that another may grow through the disorder and disease caused by his offense. This certainly applies to the curious activity/process of "forgiving oneself," a topic about which several people have sought clarification from me in a very short time. Forgiving oneself is allowing yourself not to be defined by, limited to, the sin in question. You may have committed an unspeakable offense with unforeseen and grave ramifications. You may have expressed sorrow and regret, the wish to undo the action or unspeak the word if it were possible. You may have heard the irretrievable word of mercy from Christ's priest, and, when possible, from the offended party. Without "forgiving yourself," however, it's like trying to catch a fastball without a mitt.

Then there are traumatic occasions when one isn't guilty of an actual sin, or where the guilt is compromised by pressures from within or without. Here the ambiguity causes palpable torque in the unforgiving subject. The unforgiving subject has difficulty projecting outside of himself, even for just a moment, to see himself from a different, more compassionate perspective. Here an objective voice can provide helpful clarification and encouragement. Even so, if unforgiveness persists (and, if it persists, it also intensifies), the personal application of mercy can be delayed indefinitely, creating the feeling that "everyone else out there" has received the passcode or the owner's manual to a joyful life!

Where begin to permit oneself the relaxation and vigor of a second chance? In acquiring the habit of gratitude, however contrived and nauseating it may seem at first. To choose gratitude is to project outside of one's own inhibited interiority long enough to notice the goodness of someone or something outside of oneself. For the chronically ungrateful, bitter, or depressed, this often can be a most difficult endeavor. It takes courage and persistence.

Some people make a point of writing down, or at least mentally itemizing, persons, things or situations that inspire gratitude. As one becomes more capable of "living in the moment," he can become acutely aware of motives for gratitude and respond with seemingly impulsive delight. Public displays of gratitude need not be gushing or saccharine; upturned lips or raised eyebrows would suffice.

Somewhere you can find the obvious results of an expensive study, to the effect that physical expressions of happiness result in an increase of the appropriate favorable chemicals in the brain. I'd bet that the same chemicals can be found in the brain of the person in the act of granting forgiveness, as this act, like the choice of gratitude, is a mental exercise that strengthens one's capacity to affirm goodness. To forgive oneself is to recognize the existence of interior goodness as a quality that survives and indeed transcends any harm. Just as the mental discipline of unforgiveness is reinforced with persistence and increased intensity, forgiveness likewise thrives.

Pope Francis speaks for all sacramental conduits of mercy--all priests--when he tweets of the Church as "a place where everyone is welcomed, loved, and forgiven." For the moment, and only with God's eager extension of mercy, resolve to sit in, and walk in, the truth that "you" are a subset of "everyone."

Source: http://www.bartleby.com/122/47.html

I Have Something To Say To You

Lieutenant General David Morrison of the Australian Army had something to say about the improper conduct of some male soldiers toward some female soldiers. Exploitation and degradation have "no place in this Army.... Every one of us is responsible for the culture and reputation of our Army and the environment in which we work."

Jesus had something to say to Simon and fellow Pharisees who interiorly determined (i.e., "judged") the sinfulness of a woman who showed Him reverence. At first, He said it in the form of a parable, one of His familiar modes of speaking, which He often used as a ruse. Here, by leading His listeners to  conclude that someone deeper in debt might show Him deeper reverence--as that woman was doing--He was also revealing the Pharisees' pusillanimity and ingratitude.

Our Lord followed the prophetic path of Nathan, whom God directed to convict King David of his adulterous and murdering machinations. This weekend we do not get to hear the beginning of this exposé, a parable of a farmer who raises a lamb from her birth only to be callously deprived of that lamb by a visitor who needs to make a meal for his own guests. Nathan deflected David's misdirected wrath as it were by pointing a mirror to him, with a phrase considered a compliment in our time: "You are the man!"

While David famously repented of his treachery, we do not know how Simon and his fellow Pharisees fared. It's just like the "rest of the story" behind the Prodigal Son: did the elder son enter the feast? This much of the story we know: Jesus forgave the woman of lavish love, and the guilty bystanders had nothing to be forgiven of, as far as they could tell.

I wonder whether the lecherous Australian soldiers are admitting their wrongdoing. If it came to the point where I needed a general to set me straight, I hope that would serve as an adequate stimulus for personal change. Maybe I'd need to take his advice: if I'm not willing to change, I'd have to find me another line of work that would suit me better.

God save us from such spiritual and mental constriction!

Now I Lay Me Down

In my random bloggings I occasionally reflect on holy card prayers such as may be found in the vestibule or in people's missals.  This most recent one was brought to my attention by a brother priest, who found it at a religious gift shop.  It is called "Healing Prayer at Bedtime."  This is helpful on so many levels:  one, because I am in the healing business; and two, because if you prick me, I bleed, and not a few times I myself have been a...cause of anguish...to my fellows.

Many people review their day before hitting the hay, seeking reasons for gratitude as well as repentance.  (My temperament tends to seek the latter, but I happily note that the former often surfaces as well.)  Alongside a word of thanks to the Font of every blessing, who among us would not appreciate a prayer to repair every relational tear?

Lord Jesus, through the power of the Holy Spirit, go back into my memory as I sleep.  Every hurt that I have ever caused another person, heal that hurt.  All the relationships that have been damaged in my life that I am not aware of, heal those relationships.  But, Lord, if there is anything that I need to do, if I need to go to a person because he or she is still suffering from my hand, bring to my awareness that person.  I choose to forgive and I ask to be forgiven.  Remove whatever bitterness may be in my heart, Lord, and fill the empty spaces with Your love.  Amen.

Am I right?

This prayer is refreshingly comprehensive in scope.  It presumes contrition for the offenses we are aware of, and begs awareness of the unknown.  Compare the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, where the priest begs forgiveness for transgressions "voluntary and involuntary" (before the Trisagion Hymn).

We are humbled to realize that we may not fully know or accurately recall all the sins we have committed.  The Lord's Sacrifice forgives us of all that we have consciously recalled and confessed, as well as whatever we have genuinely forgotten.  Then there is the catalogue of repressed actions, things we have pushed deeper into the subconscious because we were unable and/or unwilling to deal with them at the time.  We hoped those things would just go away, but they cannot help but manifest themselves in everything from dreams to nervous tics.  As we grow in the spiritual life, we want to become more conscious of our faults and sins--not to wallow in the attendant guilt, but rather to make right what we can, when and where we can.  The movement from victimhood to responsibility is vital for our human and spiritual growth.  It is second to our increasing acceptance of Our Savior's love for us.

Since "nature abhors a vacuum," we seek divine love in place of the deeply-rooted bitterness that may have consumed us earlier.  It is said that we have a "God-sized hole" in our hearts that we often try to fill with created things.  Idolatry happens when we ascribe to any person or thing the regard due to God.  Many of us inordinately invest ourselves in created things--even our own feelings and preferences.  If we wish to divest ourselves of these unhealthy attachments, we need a Sufficient Substitute.

There is a considerable risk to allowing the Lord to probe more deeply into our emotional and mental states.  It's not a risk, it's a guarantee: He will find stuff.  We trust that He is sustaining us throughout the excavation process.  Whatever we find, we will receive adequate courage and insight to examine.  We can receive the willingness to humbly offer our discoveries in Confession (and, if necessary, in counseling or other therapeutic venues like recovery programs), for God's glory and for people's good.  Our own good counts here, by the way; how couldn't it?