Sacraments of Healing, Sacraments of Mercy

The Church's Catechism tells us (CCC 1420-1421) that there are two "Sacraments of Healing": Penance/Reconciliation and Anointing of the Sick. If we were to consult Sacred Scripture for the roots of these sacred grace-meetings (and we should), I would first consider Jas 5:14-15, which the anointing priest or bishop is supposed to say as part of the rite:

Are there any who are sick among you? Let them send for the priests of the Church, and let the priests pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. The prayer of faith will save the sick persons, and the Lord will raise them up. If they have committed any sins, their sins will be forgiven them.

Incidentally (I exaggerate), Jesus Himself indicated:

These signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will drive out demons, they will speak new languages, they will pick up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not harm them. They will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover" (Mk 16:17-18)

In Mk 6:12-13, we read that the Twelve Apostles, in connection with a dominical* commissioning, "preached repentance[,] drove out many demons, and they anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them."

Jesus described the curative successes of "those who believe," while James and Mark elaborate upon the repentance and forgiveness that accompany the priestly encounter. These data would not be in the Bible if Jesus and the early Church did not engage in such healing moments faithfully.

Regarding the foundations for the Sacrament of Penance: James says, "Confess your sins to one another" (5:16). Certainly any relationship beyond that of bowling buddies (though even there, where indicated) would entail the occasional disclosure of faults, through both commission and repentance of faults. James would not have said this, except for the presumed command and expectation to forgive confessed sins.

James, of course, was not necessarily referring to the sacramental transaction, but it makes sense alongside Jesus' post-Resurrection appearance in the Upper Room (John 20:19ff). "Jesus said to them again, 'Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.' And when He had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, 'Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.'"

Recall how, at the diocesan Mass of the Oils, the Bishop breathes upon the Sacred Chrism while consecrating it. Thus he confers the Holy Spirit upon it for its sealing, consecratory purposes (most notably Baptism, Confirmation, and Ordination to Presbyterate and Episcopate). Where there is a sealing, there is a sending.

We're not supposed to wait until the last minute to seek physical healing. Often the physicians receive the patient when it is too late to do anything helpful. All the more does this pertain to one's spiritual condition. People will wait to "send for the priests" until the person is "actively dying," scarcely able to communicate for themselves.

I wonder whether my generation (X) and younger will have the presence of mind to request the sacraments of penance, anointing, and Eucharist for their dying loved ones, much less obtain these sacraments for themselves as often as befits a son or daughter of God. Provision of spiritual care and religious education are not simply a courtesy, but a responsibility. This is generally considered true for parents vis-à-vis children, and it should also be true for adults regarding their parents--when they no longer can operate for themselves.

While we have our wits, one way we take responsibility for our own spiritual and religious disciplines is frequent and honest Confession. People of all ages will contest, "I'm not a big sinner. I never killed anyone, stole [much]..."

That may be true. The Church commands us to confess only our serious sins, at the minimum of once a year. But that is a minimum. We would change our toothbrush more often, or the oil in (older) vehicles, so why not prevent sin buildup in like manner?

As an apostle of mercy I consider myself obliged to make the suggestion, especially upon an initial visit to a hospitalized person. I certainly don't accuse anyone of being a "big sinner," but I often remind them that there are ten commandments, and various ways to break them.

Most important is the priest's mission (as opposed to "agenda," a word fraught with unsavory connotations) to "draw everyone" to Christ (cf. Jn 12:32). To refuse or defer that invitation is no personal slight, nor is it necessarily a self-condemning action; but "the offer still stands," at least for the patient's length of stay, and they can always seek another priest. The time may not be right, they may want to examine their conscience first--and I can provide material for that!

In any case, it's all about whittling away at excuses, and renewing our commitment to our relationship with Jesus and all we encounter. Can you "confess to God directly"? Sure, but confess also to a priest. It costs nothing but our egos. The priest is as much a sinner as you, perhaps (God forbid) more. But as priest, he is an other Christ, and so he was commissioned by Christ and the Church "to reconcile the world to Himself" one person at a time.

Moreover, the healing is in the relationship. Relationships involve the continuous exchange of loving words and actions that heal. Every human exertion in some way creates micro-tears in our spiritual fiber, just like exercise does for our muscles. These tears are properly repaired through prayer, both communal and personal. Confession is fundamentally a prayer that acknowledges and praises God's goodness and sovereignty over our lives; in that context it is a recognition of our sins and weaknesses, which are the precise occasion for God to act in support of our relationship with Him.

I don't advocate putting off any sacramental attention (Anointing or Penance) because I don't advocate putting off any relationship attention. That's what sacraments are: not things to collect or use, not "Get Out of Hell Free!" passes. Rather, they are demonstrations of God's concern for our union with Him and with our fellow human persons, which is most fully evident in the sacraments' very Source: The Passion, Death, and Resurrection of the Incarnate Son.

*dominical: of, or pertaining to, the Lord [Jesus]; from L. dominicus, from dominus "lord, master."

"Would You Date You?": Review and Application

Last year I was in a near occasion of sin Catholic goods shop, where I spotted Would You Date You? by Anthony Buono, founder of Ave Maria Singles and writer at the blog 6StoneJars. The sight of this book filled me with delight. It sits at my right hand, arrayed in the gold of the autumn sun.

I met Anthony through a mutual friend, a priest and mentor who was kind enough to employ me as an organist at his parishes when I was a child of twelve (good enough for government work). I can't recall how Anthony met Fr. Connolly, but the two later collaborated on Road to Cana, a marriage series that aired on EWTN and is available on DVD. I was honored to serve for Mr. and Mrs. Buono's wedding twenty years ago. It's been a few years since we last spoke, but God knows whether and how our paths may cross.

While I have miles to go before the last page (138) of WYDY, because I've enjoyed what I've read thus far I am tempted to write a rash review. Now I don't expect the book to go sour at any point, but knowing that I might once again misplace it or place it down in favor of something else (not necessarily better), I will assure you that Mr. Buono's Opus is worth buying, reading, assimilating, and implementing.

I am not dating anyone--the Diocese and countless others will be glad to know--but I come into regular contact with people who are dating or who likely will be dating "before you know it." WYDY would make a fine gift for any such person. Content and delivery are appropriate for any high schooler or college student, perhaps as suggested or required reading, a stocking stuffer, etc.

Any human beings who exist in any sort of community--would profit from devouring this book. If the reader is moved to make necessary changes of attitude and action, WYDY will have fulfilled its purpose, and, please God, the divorce statistics will change for the better, because the reader's conversion will have prevented, or even saved, an unhappy, unhealthy or unholy relationship.

Arthur Porter wrote and Frank Sinatra sang that "love, like youth, is wasted on the young," but the young are understandably drawn to it. Unfortunately, and often tragically, many teenagers and adults lack the wherewithal to approach authentic love appropriately. They and their prospective spouses would profit from a formation in virtue. 

Buono treats several virtues that are particularly relevant to prospective spouses, such as humility, purity, charity, detachment, self-awareness, and practicality. He writes with a balance of directness and gentleness that invites the reader to a like consideration of his or her own ways. WYDY concludes with "A Meditation on the Crucifix for Singles," which amounts to an incisive examination of conscience that works just as well for persons who have already consecrated themselves in a vocation.

This take-away passage is relevant to the weekend's Scripture readings, for the 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C:

[Jesus' judgment on the Pharisee] should make us all tremble, because there is a little bit of the Pharisee in all of us that has to constantly be recognized and worked on. We hold others up to very high standards and even recoil when someone falls short of those expectations (maybe even cut someone off for their failure). Yet, we have an incredible capacity for justifying our own actions and even blinding ourselves to the hypocritical approach to the life we lead. (p. 21)

And he concludes the chapter with a practical suggestion:

Dating couples need to work at making each other feel relaxed so that authentic love has a chance to develop and blossom. They should be quick to see the best in each other, and assume any fault within themselves..." (p. 23)

Previous Lucan texts remind us that Martha and Mary were sisters, the Prodigal and the Elder were brothers, and today, the Pharisee and the Tax-Collector are praying in the same Temple...though not to the same person: while both pray-ers address God, the Pharisee "took up his position and prayed to himself" (Lk 18:11).

Two interesting points: (1) The Pharisee "took up his position": statheis literally means "stood," but the word can admit a sense of firmness. (2) He "prayed to himself" (pros heauton), which suggests a monologue.

When it feels like we're talking to ourselves in prayer, it should prompt us to consider our motives for praying. Are we trying to ingratiate ourselves with God, as if our prayer intends to "convince" Him of our virtues, or that we've been "good enough" to deserve what we seek? Are we pharisaically promoting ourselves to ourselves, as though God didn't even need to be around for it?

What kind of prospective mate, or friend (for the former ought first, and always, be the latter), could possibly "feel relaxed" in our presence--another egotist like us?

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?

The Life of (Father) Reilly

This time last week I had the privilege of playing the organ for the Mass of Christian Burial for Father Joseph Francis Reilly.  Since then I turned 36, developed Ulnar Neuritis (which is slowly healing; I couldn't type very much over the past couple of days), spoke for a few minutes to Msgr. Charles Pope about his experience as a prolifically blogging diocesan priest, and carried on each day's given labors.

Last night my Facebook news feed displayed the blog of seminary classmate Fr. J. C. Garrett, a close friend of Fr. Reilly who also attended his funeral.  Fr. Garrett wrote this insightful post in tribute to Fr. Reilly.  My decision to write about Joe feels like a case of "monkey see, monkey do," but I know in my heart it isn't.  The feelings and ideas have been stewing since Joe's death.

Joe and I graduated from Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary High School (Pottsville, PA) in 1994.  Three of us from a class of 64 students entered St. Charles Borromeo Seminary that fall.  While two of us became Catholic priests, we also have one Orthodox priest and perhaps one more on the way.  Need I mention that the NBVM classes of 1993 through 1997 provided three other Catholic and Orthodox priests besides me and Joe?  It must have been something in the water.

In reality, I would attribute these priestly vocations to: the fidelity and joy in our families; the strong religious climate in our communities; the holiness and humanity of the priests, religious, and laypersons who formed us in our parishes and schools.  Ultimately the inscrutable call of God accounts for such a bumper crop.

In a high school as small as ours, it was hard not to be associated somehow with someone.  Joe and I came from different towns and didn't participate in many of the same activities, but both of us had been well formed in the faith and were very much involved in our parishes.  Activities such as the National Catholic Youth Conference (Indianapolis, 1991) and World Youth Day (Denver, 1993) were, I believe, pivotal moments in our respective faith journeys.  We had a mutual teacher and friend in Fr. (later Msgr.) Bernie Flanagan, our sophomore and junior year theology teacher.  Joe and I were sacristans, responsible for caring for the school chapel and setting up the gymnasium for school Masses.  Proximity to the Sacred Mysteries is a tremendous benefit of Catholic education.  It is hard for me to understand how Catholic school students can become nauseated by divine things!  To be sure, neither of us was ripe for canonization, but we made it through high school relatively unscarred by the world.  As the events surrounding Joe's death have reminded me, the class of '94 is a good bunch.

Joe and I traveled together, would go to dinner together, and otherwise enjoy each other's company in our eight years together at Overbrook.  There our friendship grew beyond the confines of the high school experience, for it was enriched by what we learned, how we worshipped, how we strove to live, and how we prayed; in a word, by the Catholic faith.  Seminary was more of a fishbowl than high school.  Tensions were inevitable.  I can speak more credibly for my own defects, which never abated despite the quality of our formation ("Grace builds upon nature," said Aquinas).  In the later seminary years, Joe and I gravitated toward other classmates.  Distance especially increased when Joe's formation was extended by an additional year in a parish setting; nonetheless our interactions remained enjoyable and enriching, if less frequent.

I knew that Joe had a difficult time in his parish assignments, before and after ordination.  None of us have had an easy time, free of challenges.  I myself am no stranger to "taking things hard."  People's limitations (mine and theirs) are often difficult for me to tolerate.  Early in life I developed a very strong dependence on others' opinions of me, real or perceived; only in the past five years or so have I been making progress with that.

In the summer of 2007 Joe took time and space away from active ministry for personal growth; only months before, I had returned from the same program in which he was participating.  We would talk on the telephone and run into each other at diocesan functions--the same level of contact that many priests maintain with each other.  I knew that Joe began to feel alienated from fellow diocesan priests, and my own attempts to reach out diminished over time.  My last attempt fell around his birthday five months ago, when I met up with his dear mother and she gave me his phone number (the one I had was out of service for some time, and I didn't know whether he'd received my last couple of e-mails...or my last voicemail).


Having reviewed the footage, this Monday Morning Quarterback attributes the outcome of the final  quarter to several possibilities: misperceptions, passage of time and proliferation of responsibilities; fear of rejection; and/or practical indifference.  Now people have reminded me that the choices in a friendship "go both ways," but I render no judgment on his part.  Time has run out; eternity is another matter.


Msgr. John P. Murphy, pastor of St. Thomas More (where Fr. Reilly completed his pastoral year), preached the homily for Joe's funeral.  He offered valuable insight into Joe's struggles and hopes for a return to active ministry.  I never knew firsthand where he stood in that regard, not that it would have made any difference in my heart and mind.  Both Msgr. Murphy and Bishop Barres noted that Joe's death (of natural causes, though still quite unexpected) offers us diocesan priests the challenge to keep in touch and to offer support, especially when a brother is struggling; and who isn't at some point?

(L to R: Fr. Zelonis, Fr. Reilly, and Fr. McFadden of Phila. Rome, 2003.)

So now Joe is in the best position to know my disposition toward him, which was never unfavorable, though perhaps unexpressed.  The whole ordeal is, to use an appropriate cliche, "in God's hands."  He knows well what is in man's heart.  With his particular skill set and ill set, this much can be said for Fr. Joe Reilly: he loved the Lord Jesus and His holy Mother, loved his family, loved the holy Catholic Church, loved the priesthood; and loved people.  He wanted to do right by all of them: a worthy task for life.  Through whatever trials I have faced and may yet face, I pray that my own heart may be so purified that Joe and I may concelebrate the eternal Offering of Peace and Sacrifice of Praise.

+++++

As I receive links to other people's accounts of their friendship with Fr. Reilly, I shall post them here.  A diamond's brilliance should be appreciated from many angles.
From Robert Badger
From Fr. J. C. Garrett

What Can (Should) We Do For You?

Ryan Eggenberger has written this piece to present what young Catholics legitimately need and expect from their priests.

Often I reflect upon the situations that my generation and younger are experiencing, their "skill-set" and "ill-set," their gifts and crosses (received and chosen).  Ryan clearly recognizes himself as part of a minority--faithful Catholics under 40 (maybe he is under 30, I don't know).  We want the exception to become the norm!  What are we priests willing to do about it?

Enter Ryan's posting.  Consider whether you, patient reader, are interested in these things.  Consider whether your brother or sister, niece or nephew, son or daughter, grandson or granddaughter, wants these things.  And be not afraid.  Nil desperandum!