Another Advocate

Readings for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, Cycle A 

In Saint John’s Gospel, Jesus referred to “another Advocate,” specifically the Holy Spirit, whom the Father has sent into the world to reinforce the deeds and words of Jesus. The Holy Spirit is the soul of Christ’s Mystical Body, the Church; He is the Church’s living memory, her source of both challenge and encouragement. Jesus curiously says, “The world cannot accept [the Spirit], because it neither sees nor knows him.” People who are not concerned with anything beyond the material, the scientifically verifiable, would have no part with the Holy Spirit. Their church is little more than a soulless zombie, or perhaps a blob that assumes the shape of its container.

The Spirit is the “Advocate” (in Greek, Paraclete): One who is literally called to a person’s side, like a defense attorney. Followers of Christ, sons and daughters of the Church, need this Advocate to help us become witnesses to our faith. Younger Catholics should remember the official definition of Confirmation that the Bishop asked them: “Confirmation is the sacrament in which the Holy Spirit comes to us in a special way to join us more closely to Jesus and His Church, and to seal and strengthen us as Christ’s witnesses.” 

To riff upon our Bishop’s motto, the Spirit invests us with holiness (union with the Lord and others) and mission (service to the Lord and others); He delivers them in the form of His seven gifts, and we are known to have them in our exemplification of His twelve fruits. (Don’t know what the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit are? Look them up!)

If we’re baptized and confirmed Catholics, we ought to know and treasure who we are and what we believe, and we ought to be willing to stand up for it in the face of opposition. Last week our Commonwealth joined numerous other states in permitting same-sex marriages. This decision has been met at once with thunderous applause and thunderous outcry; but the most noteworthy response has been silence. 

Most Catholics know, and some are, persons who experience attraction to the same sex. Few, I suspect, know the Church’s teachings enough to distinguish attraction from action (attraction of itself is not sinful, while action is); and fewer still are prepared to defend those teachings. They might consider the Church’s position a condemnation of our brothers and sisters—or of themselves—but fail to recognize the deepest truths at stake; or, however dimly they may recognize the truths, they are afraid to speak of them for fear of being considered a “hater,” “insensitive” and “unenlightened.” Understandably they may not want to be labeled a “hypocrite,” much less get roped in with a Church who has endured the same criticism, often justifiably. Or they may feel ill equipped against the prevailing arguments, with their appeals to “love,” “equality,” and the like. 

In so many respects, as we get to know human beings and their stories, we find that we can no longer hide behind positions. We begin to love persons while not condoning their sinful actions. We are moved to look more squarely at our own lives, to notice where we also have some conversion and growth ahead of us. A comfortable Catholicism fails to satisfy, because a Fire has been lit beneath us!

We should be grateful for our Catholic faith, and we should be ready to offer people “a reason for the hope” within us; but only if we call upon our Advocate to help us affirm the truth clearly and lovingly. Having done our best with that, the results are not our business.

Promises, Promises Can Just Transform Your Life

In an internet feature called "Throwback Thursday," I decided to post a paper that the former secretary of my home parish sent to my Mom a few years ago. She must have been going through some old records when she found this chestnut:

This was a really good find, both for the nerdy picture (dig the size of those spectacles!) and for the personal historical value.

For whatever reason my father and Confirmation sponsor (my paternal grandfather, William J. Zelonis, affectionately known by his coworkers as "Bill Zee" and his grands as "Grump") never signed it. 

Dad really stayed in the proverbial back seat with characteristically quiet support. His vocational advice was very simple: "You got a good head on your shoulders. You don't have to bust your ___ like I did." "Just as long as you don't do anything immoral." Works for me.

People's comments have been understandably favorable. One person, who is deeply involved in promoting the Church's missionary activity, called it a "timely Valentine to the Holy Spirit." My gears started grinding.

First, it reminded me of this martyrous meme:

Yep

The Holy Spirit, given initially at Baptism and fully in Confirmation, galvanizes the human spirit to live the primary vocation to holiness. Our cooperation with that Gift entails the promises I made in that declaration: prayer, kindness, seeking intimacy with God, seeking ways to witness to Christ before others.

I have at times been far from faithful to those promises. I dare not claim my vocation to the priesthood as proof of anything--except, perhaps, God's "proof of purchase." While I may piously refer to myself as His slave, and identify myself in terms of the Lord's commitment to me and mine to Him (cf. Song 6:3), I remain dreadfully free to set it aside in favor of lesser loves.

So for couples who identify themselves with each other: they cannot rest on the laurels of their identification. They must engage in the daily sacrificial proofs of love. For the bishop Saint Valentine, love for Christ eventually meant the gift of his life. "No one takes my life away from me; I lay it down freely" (Jn 10:18).

This total gift of self, this further specification of the baptismal call to sanctity, finds expression in marriage, vowed religious life, ordination, or consecrated virginity. People may apply themselves to certain worthy occupations in a way that resembles that total gift, which is valid as far as it goes; but one's vocation as such pertains to the harnessing of love's energies and the itemized investment of our spiritual and temporal resources. This calling--a mystical mixture of God's ideas and ours, God's initiative and our response--it can hurt, it can fulfill.

I was confirmed in 1988 by the Most Reverend Thomas J. Welsh. Six years later he would accept me as a seminarian for the Diocese of Allentown. He would live to see me ordained a priest, he would preside in choir at my father's funeral, and I would concelebrate his funeral Mass.

1988 was a banner year in my life, aside from my Confirmation. Like many public schoolers who attended CCD/PREP I couldn't wait to stop going to classes. This was strange, because I enjoyed learning about my Catholic faith. Perhaps it was the extra allotment of time on a Wednesday night.

To solve that (not really; it was a discrete decision) I enrolled in the local Catholic school. That fact, as I have written in previous posts, really opened me to love of my religion and to an interest in spirituality and service. Now I had religion classes every day. Now I could play the organ for school Masses and serve funerals. 

In eighth grade I became a "mission rep": the school's student representative to the diocesan Holy Childhood Association, now called the Missionary Childhood Association. While I never considered devoting my life to the service of the poor in other countries, I appreciate how they told us we were all missionaries by virtue of our baptism.

I retain a number of friends from that time in my life. One of them just found that Valentine martyr meme. We can still talk honestly and charitably about religious, spiritual, and cultural matters. I have assisted, and even officiated, at the weddings of some.

It is rather consoling to know that the promises made at Confirmation, at an admittedly insane point in the life of most recipients, can be increasingly activated over the years, perhaps to blossom in a life acutely conscious of the reality and relevance of God.

Of Symmetry and Sanctity

Today the Church celebrates the Memorial of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. She died at the age of 24 from tuberculosis, as a cloistered Carmelite nun who scarcely knew the outside world after entering the order; but her desires to proclaim the Gospel and connect people with Christ's Mystical Body have merited her not only a place in heaven, but the patronage of the Church's missionary activity.

To proclaim the Gospel and to connect people with Christ's Mystical Body: that is the goal of every baptized Christian, and a fortiori of every priest. I recall hearing of St. Thérèse's love for priests, indeed of a kind of holy envy for them--certainly a profound reverence for their proximity to things divine. She offered her life for priests, for which I am most grateful.

Twenty years ago today I signed and mailed my application for seminary studies to the Diocese of Allentown. Today, a priest for ten years and almost four months, I participate in the solemn closing of my parish's Forty Hours Devotion. Much has transpired between then and now: all, I trust, to God's glory and the sanctification of His people.

The sacraments of Marriage and Holy Orders are "Sacraments of Communion and Mission" because they orient their participants toward the eternal (and temporal) fulfillment--salvation--of others. I would say, "unlike the other sacraments," but that wouldn't be true. Every sacrament orients its participants toward the salvation of others, and thus to their own salvation.

Now, vowed religious life is not a sacrament, but there are real parallels between the purified and elevated commitment ("consecration") of the priest and the spouse, and of vowed religious. Perhaps the details of comparison are best left to the theologians and canonists.

I preached on the readings of the day as they relate to the life of the Little Flower. Zechariah foretold an eager response to the message of salvation among the Gentiles, who until his time were not roundly expected to repent and convert. Notice the palpable excitement ascribed to the nations: "...men of every nationality...shall take hold, yes, take hold of every Jew by the edge of his garment and say, 'Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.'"

Perhaps in this light we can salvage some worth from the enthusiasm of James and John, who express their disfavor of hostile Samaritans who would not welcome Jesus and company along their Holy Land Tour. Apparently the journey to His passion and death should encounter a sort of sneak preview along the way.

"Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven and consume them?" As if Jesus couldn't do that Himself if He wished! But He wanted to move on, though not without offering a rebuke. Now we are not privy to the precise words of that rebuke, but here is my script:

"Don't presume to know My mind concerning this situation. Don't you remember the account of Shimei, who cursed David and his officials on their way to Bahurim? How David made excuses for the man, even suggesting that the Lord Himself told him to curse the king? Let him go--mentally as well as physically. There are places to go, people to see," etc.

Jesus Himself spoke of a desire to "set the earth on fire" (Lk 12:49). One religious brother suggests that we not impede the Holy Spirit who wants to inflame our hearts with holiness and mission. This inflammation precedes and accompanies the Church's missionary activity.

Once again today we hear that Pope Francis has conducted an interview, this time with an atheist Italian journalist. Questions abound as to the accuracy of the translation (Traddutore, traditore--"The translator is a traitor--the Italians say), and a number of bloggers fear the implications of this interview. ("This isn't magisterial-level teaching!" "Too many people will misunderstand the Pope's words!" "He is watering down the uniqueness of Christ's Person and Sacrifice!") Others are encouraging people to relax and realize that the Holy Father (in imitation of Jesus) is an equal opportunity disturber.

St. Thérèse used to disturb me, too. (She still does, but she used to, too.) Too photogenic and photographed for being a cloistered Carmelite. Too pious, too impetuous--too bad! She's a saint, Chris, and you're not. Maybe you can learn something from her!

After I celebrated the 12:10pm Mass, I exposed the Blessed Sacrament to continue Adoration until the close of 40 Hours tonight at 7pm. After the usual incensation and genuflection, I noticed that the monstrance and tabor (the stand that elevates the monstrance) were not lined up just so with the Crucifix. I prepared my chalice for the next Mass and returned to the sanctuary to retrieve the Lectionary and other items, though not without stopping to reposition the tabor just so.

Then a voice came to me: "Are you more interested in symmetry than in sanctity?"

The voice of God? The late Mel Allen of "This Week in Baseball" used to say, "You make the call."

I think God was saying something to me. Upon sending out this post I shall obey His voice by donning my cassock and going down to the Church--not only to get a few more things ready for tonight's solemn closing, but also to make a visit and pray for the conversion of everyone on every side of these interviews, myself included.

Therese Chose All, Received All

When a saint is being honored in the Liturgy, more often than not I opt to read the lectio continua, the ongoing daily readings, instead of anything from the "Common" selections for the type of saint he or she is (e.g., martyr, doctor of the Church, holy man who worked with the underprivileged).  How the daily readings and the saint's celebration often illuminate each other without a great homiletic stretch, I consider a sort of divine arrangement.

Jesus placed a child by His side and told the disciples that "whoever receives this child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me" (Lk 9:48).  The parallel passage in Mark (9:33-38) is followed by yesterday's Gospel, which featured Jesus' admonition against giving scandal to "little ones."

In both Gospels these passages are separated by John's tattle-tale expose of a rival exorcist.  Although St. John is traditionally considered the youngest of the disciples, he doesn't seem to be the most immature, as several of them had been arguing about who was the greatest (Mk 9:33-34; Lk 9:46).  Traits associated with children, such as "telling on" rule-breakers, aren't always shed by the time one reaches adulthood; we just exhibit them in a more sophisticated fashion, and with clever justification.

Pan to our saint, Marie-Francoise-Therese Martin (1873-1897), who would tell on herself when, for example, she once hit her sister.  Coddled as an infant and toddler, Therese soon became mischievous and stubborn to the point of throwing tantrums.  As is often the case, the better part of Therese's humanity could not be separated from her worst: if the Hokey-Pokey were around in her day, she would have "put [her] whole self in" and stayed in the center of the circle.

One classic example in Therese's life points to her "all-or-nothing" thinking, curiously also a characteristic of addicts: when older sister Leonie had outgrown dolls and their dresses, she offered the basket of paraphernalia to younger sisters Celine (age 6) and Therese (age 2).  A ball of yarn sufficed for Celine; but Therese grabbed the whole basket, declaring, "I choose all!"

Childish behavior attracts attention, if not appreciation; but somehow the self-centered child can become father to the self-diverting man, whose (saintly? neurotic?) eccentricities point not so much to himself as to God.

On several occasions before she turned fifteen, Therese unsuccessfully petitioned to join the Order of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel.  Her father, who had already given three daughters to religion, offered his full support (perhaps by that point he knew better than to refuse).  While on a pilgrimage to Rome with her father and her sister Celine, Therese boldly approached Pope Leo XIII to ask him personally.  She would enter, the Holy Father said, "if God wills it."

As God willed, Therese entered Carmel three months into her sixteenth year.  She would survive her father, whose decline she had perceived in a childhood vision.  In the brief course of her cloistering, Therese would reflect on the events of her childhood, experience the joys and frustrations of community living, and grow in her relationship with God.  She never left Carmel after her entrance, but  as Pope John Paul noted, she is considered Patroness of the Missions because of her simultaneous and expansive love for souls and love of God.

Therese retained the whole-self-in attitude of her earlier years.  She thought it "impossible...to grow up, so I must bear with myself such as I am with all my imperfections."  There was no choice but to remain little, raising her arms to Jesus like a child to her daddy.

Utter dependence on the strength and love of those above: in senses physical and spiritual, this is the better part of childhood--precisely what Jesus was extolling in the above passages.  Sure, children are needy and greedy, capricious and precocious.  So are adults!  Yet the Lord would have us anyway, despite our best adult attempts to cover our baseness.  To "receive this child" is, in reality, to allow ourselves to be received, as we are, by One who will raise us up.

"Know Your Role" in Vocational Discernment

The Divine Missionary(c) Josephite Fathers

You never know what you'll find among the articles left at the entrance to the Daily Mass Chapel.

The above holy card was one of the better finds in recent months.

As the caption mentions, the image was copyrighted by the Josephite Fathers in Baltimore.  This community of consecrated men (priests and brothers, in fact) are predominantly African-Americans who serve their fellow African-Americans.  (My introduction to this community came by way of Fr. Stephen F. Brett, one of our moral theology professors in the seminary.)  

I was moved by the image of a devout young man looking up to the Crucified Lord, Whose arm embraces him and Whose face looks upon him with serene confidence.

This image tells us how it is: Jesus really trusts us--and supports those who make it their business to  follow Him.  Jesus Himself is the "Divine Missionary" by nature, and we are by grace.  He is the divine Sender, we the divinely Sent.

On the reverse is a "Prayer to Know One's Vocation," which reads:

O my God, Thou Who art the God of wisdom and good counsel, Thou Who readest in my heart a sincere desire to please Thee alone and to direct myself in regard to my choice of a state of life, in conformity with Thy holy will in all things; by the intercession of the most holy Virgin, my Mother, and of my Patron Saints, grant me the grace to know that state of life which I ought to choose, and to embrace it when known, in order that thus I may seek Thy glory and increase it, work out my own salvation and deserve the heavenly reward which Thou hast promised to those who do Thy holy will.  Amen.

(Incidentally, the prayer carried an indulgence of 300 days according to the Raccolta.  The Church no longer treats indulgences in terms of days or quarantines, so we can presume that, if any indulgence is attached to this prayer anymore, it's "partial."  And that's quite fine with me.  I'll take what I can get.)

This prayer gives voice to the person who wants to know "what to do with (his or her) life."  The ordinary, post-modern presumption is that one's life choices are completely personal, autonomously considered, decided, and executed; unless, of course, one chooses to enlist outside advice, which must entail no obligation or expectation.  This applies not only to one's vocation (intentional celibacy with or without religious vows, marriage, or ordination) but also to one's profession or occupation, and everything else besides.

Pick up a holy card like this one and entertain for a moment that it's good for anything more than a toothpick, and you're asking for trouble...or, depending on your perspective, you're asking for help.

The young people of today would profit from vocational formation, at the heart of which is the "universal call to holiness" propounded by the Second Vatican Council.  God wants us to know Him personally, to recognize His interest in us, and to allow that interest to guide not only our daily conduct but also our weightier decisions.  From the universal call to holiness we discover that what we want to do with life is as important to God as it is to us.

Allow me, patient reader, a digression on "Stuff My Dad Used to Say": 

"I just want you to do something you enjoy, something moral."

Dad was a forklift operator for a textile plant, but he knew that his son had religious and academic interests.  He also instinctively knew that one should (or at least may) choose a life-task that accords with personal inclinations and aptitudes.

"Don't bust your [posterior] like I did.  You don't need to do that."

(I never realized until now that, in his own sweet way, he was giving me a compliment.  I further realize that I scarcely gave my father due credit for doing what he did: marrying my mother, siring and raising me as best as he could, providing for the family by honorable labor that he performed faithfully and well--all of which mattered to him as much as it did to God.)

Mary and my patron saints (especially Joseph, my father's name, my Confirmation name, and patron of the universal Church, families, and laborers) undoubtedly interceded for me in my vocational discernment.  So did the priests and people I knew in my parish as well as another local parish for which I played the organ.  They expressed enthusiasm for me and my priestly predilection, and supported me in varied ways throughout the process.  Given the absolute need and relative rarity of priestly/religious vocations, one can appreciate the motive for eager support, especially among faithful families and parishes.

I admit that I wondered whether people's approval might have fostered in me an expectation (real or imagined) that I should continue to the altar, much as I suppose some people could develop an internalized impetus toward marriage, whether to a particular individual or in general.  Solid emotional and spiritual formation will help a person to sift through those understandable concerns--better sooner than later, so as to minimize post-decisional drama.

Freedom is key in the choice of one's vocation.  The last several popes have spoken to people obsessed with their autonomy by reminding them that freedom is for something: it has a purpose outside of our self-determination.  Recent authors have noted the difference between saying "This is my body" at the altar of self-interest, and saying "This is my body" at the altar of self-sacrifice.

All sorts of attachments can whittle away at one's freedom like a fine-grade sandpaper.  We readily acknowledge the effects of addictive substances or processes; but an undue regard for the opinion of family, friends, and society is just as insidiously harmful to the developing moral agent and, a fortiori, to the process of vocational discernment.

The weak or nonexistent pursuit of holiness in the family may be the greatest liability for one who is choosing a life-state.  The child who had little exposure to prayer as personal communication with an interested God won't readily acknowledge God's interests in his or her life, let alone seek them.  A friend of mine says that he grew up with the idea that God takes care of only the big stuff.  For many years he would pray: "You take care of the movement of the planets, weather, etc.; I'll handle the rest, thank You very much."  Perhaps most people say such things not so much with their lips as with their actions.  Sometimes this attitude takes root despite a family's best efforts; we know well of parents who lament their children's apparent nonchalance toward divine things.  Remember the wife of Patritius.

Not only do we wish to exercise our vocational decision with freedom and intelligence, but we also want to have the best possible motives.  The purification of motives, I also concede, is an arduous process, which isn't often completed by the point of decision (e.g. marital or religious vows).  The above-quoted prayer reminds us that God's children seek to know His intentions for our lives:

(1) So that the world may acknowledge God's existence and nature in all its radiance, which many neither know nor care to know.  The more God's glory is known and sought in this world, the more disposed people will be to "let Him in" on their lives; in a strange (though not necessarily perceptible) turn, it may begin to seem that He's the One letting us in on our lives!

(2) So that we may promote our eternal welfare.  This is the greatest privilege that God gives to human beings: by the proper channeling of our freedom, understanding, and passion, we get to cooperate in the renewal of our own selves and our associates.

Pray for an authentic renewal of a religious and spiritual sense among our youth.  There is Someone outside themselves who wishes to make missionaries of them.  He "cares enough to send the very best" into the world--to send them as well-formed and eager disciples.