Measure Ten Times, Cut Twelve

I should call my original coat of arms “Well Enough,” because I couldn’t leave it alone.

With all due respect to Luis of Reidarmas.com, I started picking at his lovely rendering, and you know what happens when you keep picking at something: it gets infected. What got the ball rolling was my curiosity as to whether the design was in conflict with established rules of heraldry.

(I do not mean to imply that Luis is unschooled in the rules of heraldry. Moreover, his designing skills in this regard are exquisite, taking what someone gives him, at the very least. This was more a problem of my lack of contentment. In many respects I am chaotic.)

New Direction - Which is to say, Any

I consulted someone who designs and comments on designs of ecclesiastical heraldry. He recommended several changes, not considering any of them particularly mandatory, but some more than others.

First among the issues was the two swords crossing the river.  Second, the consultant discouraged the profuse representation of all these areas of my life, assignments, etc., a common practice in contemporary heraldic design. It becomes a two-dimensional version of those charm bracelets that were all the rage a few years ago. Overkill.

A coat of arms is more of a personal statement than a treatise on priesthood, which (unsurprisingly, intentionally) I was making it out to be. Not the first time I've been accused of trying too hard. Not that it has stopped me since. At any rate it's not improper (certainly not sinful) to ascribe loftier applications to heraldic components, even at the risk of abject eisegesis.

As I compose this post, I am awaiting reply from my consultant. But I would not wait to revise the heraldry according to my best attempts to simplify in ways meaningful and not gratuitous.

The good folks at Fleur-de-lis Designs (fleurdelis.com) incarnated what you see below on the right, substantially based on what you see below on the left, substantially based on the sketch I provided the original artist Luis. Hopefully that’s it now for revisions.

Here’s your hat: what’s your hurry?

As a bearer of ecclesiastical arms, I do not need any particular charge within the shield to represent the priesthood as such. The galero (hat) takes care of that. For a simple priest, the galero is black with one black tassel on each side.

This rounded style very much resembles one I fancied on the inter-webs. The new designer reworked it for my project.

Will you accept the charges?

“Look, Lord, here are two swords!” (Luke 22:38). And then there was one; and a single sword could represent to me not only my secondary nominal patron/first parochial patron Archangel Michael, but also the Lithuanian Vytis. The consultant suggested it could go inside the azure wavy, which I call the “blue river” for my purposes, provided it was metal-on-color.

As for that wavy, it had been stationed per pale (from top to bottom), but now it is per bend sinister (diagonally from bottom to top). Call it a tribute to writing with the sinister hand, which was no crime by the time I was taught how to write.

I switched out the argent (silver) flame with an or (gold) burning bush, following a long-held personal devotion to Moses’ encounter with a burning-but-not-consumed YHWH on Mount Horeb (Ex 3), with its Marian overtones in the Fathers. An icon of the Mosaic meetup appeared in a book on iconography that I consulted for a paper in college seminary. Love at first sight! I think it fed into my love of the color orange.

The plow had less personal significance (aside from my fond years at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary, on whose shield it is a heraldic charge), so I changed it to a blended charge representative of Saint Joseph, my Confirmation saint (and my late father’s first name). The argent (silver, kinda white) lily and or (gold) carpenter’s square fit fine against the gules (red) background.

That gules background is 1/2 the color of the Polish flag and 1/3 the color of the Lithuanian flag. Maybe I had just put a quarter into an online coat-of-arms composer, and it spit out two coats, one for Zelonis predominantly gules and one for Welker (Mom’s maiden name) azure. I didn’t think those families were important enough to merit their own heraldry, but who knows?

The name Zelonis is close to the Lithuanian word for the color gray, zilys. Aside from the cursory Google search of databases, I haven’t found any official meaning to my surname, which for all I know was an anglicization. If there is any connection to gray, my current shield shows it only in the sword and the lily.

Border warfare 

The more-rounded shield is surrounded by alternating sable (black) and argent (silver, a heraldic fudging of ivory): perhaps a persnickety personal stamp but, to my mind, sharp. Not as “sharp” as the sword hashtag, I grant. Clever, but not contrived. 

The most recent example is found around the shield of Bishop Timothy Christian Senior; the description of his coat of arms called it a bordure compony. If it has a fancy name, it must have some pedigree in the heraldry business. 

Since the heraldry is meant to reflect the person of the armiger (bearer of arms) more than his office, it seemed fit to adopt this border as a nod to my love of performing and listening to music; better, too, as a border than yet another charge.

Incidentally, Bishop Senior is a skilled pianist. He accompanied several of the musicals we did at Saint Charles, in which I either acted or played trumpet in the pit. 

Taking Occam’s Razor to the Motto

The final changed component was the motto. Ever before knowing simple priests could “bear arms,” I would take note of Scripture verses as future mottos, as part of a fascination with ecclesiastical heraldry, vesture, etc.

My ordination holy card boasted a burning bush, and, below it (in English), Hebrews 12:29: “For our God is a consuming fire.” Soon after ordination, I had a local printer make me stationery that featured at the bottom a burning bush and the Latin version of that motto.

So why didn’t I choose that verse? Mysteries abound. It certainly factors into my conception and experience of God, and my esteem of the mystical tradition. It was one of many intriguing excerpts of Scripture and other Church documents that I have been writing down or highlighting over the years. 

Settling on a single statement has proved difficult for me. I think that’s why I first chose Matthew 13:52 (“He brings forth from his treasury both the new and and the old”—qui profert de thesauro suo nova et vetera). 

As I type, its appeal once again strikes me. That’s how volatile my fancies fly. I have old choices, I have new choices. One after another I bring them out of my storeroom, show them off, and put them back. That’s a good description of the preacher’s craft, come to think of it.

Can I take a moment to relish the pun on “thesaurus”? I love words: I love to use them, especially big ones, obscure ones, foreign ones. No meadow is free from my word-wantonness (cf. Wis 2:9). Preachers draw words from their treasuries, and the Church’s treasury, in their feeble attempts to express the Word Incarnate.

But Saint Paul’s intention expressed in 1 Thessalonians 2:8 also describes the minister of the Word: he said he and his companions wanted to share “not only the Gospel of God, but [their] very selves as well” (non solum evangelium Dei, sed etiam animas nostras). Not only a content, but a contender.

That phrase (from 1 Thess, not the one about a contender, though I could’ve been!) eventually replaced the one from Matthew, like another note from the treasury. How can the preacher not invest himself in his ministry, to the extent that he conveys much of himself in the process of conveying Christ?

Since the paradoxical inclusion of apparent opposites is much at the heart of Catholic theology and spirituality, I figured, why not abbreviate it to the relevant adverbs non solum sed etiam: “Not only, but also”?

Species of the Origin

Doubtless you may say, as did the bystanders of Zechariah and Elizabeth, “Nobody in your family has this name,” meaning “Nobody else has used this as a motto.” You’re probably right.

But forget about the novelty: does it even make any sense? Maybe not by itself, but as it can be applied to any number of aspects in Catholic life. So is it wise to blazon it by itself? I will let this rhetorical question ring out into the ether.

Everybody has been reminding me this is my coat of arms and I need not be exceedingly dependent on anyone else’s opinion. Well, that has never satisfied me. I will do my best to remain at least somewhat unsatisfied. It’s my nature, at least as of right now.

The Temptation Triangle

“In my first article, Theophilus…”

I wanted that clause as the incipit for my second (though hopefully not last!) article for the Times News, because in that context it’s the only chance I'd get to riff on the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles, attributed to Saint Luke, which he begins by alluding to his “first book,” his Gospel, which detailed the actions and words of Jesus. Commentators understand “Theophilus” (Greek for “lover/beloved of God”) as a personification of anyone who might read what Luke wrote, at least from God’s point of view.

With that out of my system, I can engage in a bit of “l’esprit de l’escalier” (the spirit of the staircase): only at the bottom of the stairs, when I’ve left the party, have I thought of a better thing to say. This article seems perfect for the First Sunday of Lent, but it wouldn’t get to press for the appropriate clergy column. However, I’m relieved to note the themes expressed herein apply not just to the entirety of Lent, but like Lent itself does, to the whole disciple’s life.

This year of the Catholic Lectionary cycle features Mark, whose characteristically laconic style compresses Jesus’ wilderness fast to two verses of “just the facts.” So maybe this article would be better for Matthew or Luke’s year in the cycle. But another theme of Lent is heightened awareness of our mortality and our lack of guarantees as to whether we will ever pass this way again. The Muses don’t hang out on street corners just waiting to be picked up.

At last I get around to the point of this second article: an unrecalled source of inspiration moved me to ponder how the temptations of the first Lent correspond to other important realities of the Christian journey. Last year I made of them a graphic of concentric triangles and suspended it from the pulpit as I preached.

Each side of the outermost triangle lists one of the Satanic temptations as St. Matthew narrated them (4:1-11): Turn stones into bread; cast yourself from the Temple and expect to be rescued; receive the world in return for worshipping me. Moving toward the center of the graphic, each successive triangle mentions a corresponding idea or practice. It’s hard to describe, but I won’t retreat now.

When Satan submitted that Jesus should feed Himself in a time of intentional caloric deprivation, he wanted to erode Jesus’ trust in the Father’s wise and loving plan. That’s the aim of the Tempter’s every effort. The goods of this world make a good servant, but a poor master, yet is that not how things normally go for us?

Moving towards the center of the triangles, next we have what theology calls the “triple concupiscence”: the three avenues of temptation, or what I perhaps have coined the docents of the museum of sin: “sensual lust, enticement for the eyes, and a pretentious life” (1 John 2:15-17). In brief: the flesh, the world, and the devil. I can’t get away with saying any of these “made” me do what my will doesn’t intend (cf. Romans 7:15-22), but it sure feels that way sometimes.

Thus our first parents encountered the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (cf. Genesis 2:9,16-17). Perhaps God wanted to feed them from it all along, except for their grubby, grabby fingers. Better to have consorted with the “tree of life” (2:9), but the former’s fruit seemed “good for food, pleasing to the eyes, and desirable for gaining wisdom” (Genesis 3:6, the sides of the next triangle). See now why it’s not good for the man or woman to be alone?

Lent calls Christians to intensify the disciplines, not surprisingly three in number, that make disciples out of the curious crowd. We give them special attention during penitential periods so we may better appreciate their perennial importance in our lives. Jesus directs us to fast, pray, and give alms without fanfare, so that “your Father who sees in secret will repay you” (Matthew 6:4,6, 18).

Incidentally, the venerable option of sprinkling blessed ashes on people’s heads seems to convey the unassuming assumption of penance much more than a big ol’ cross. Then again, Jesus earlier told the crowds to “let their light shine brightly” (Matthew 5:16), so a cross might well convey how loudly His Gospel is meant to live within us. I take to paradoxes the “both-and” approach: letting the light shine is not flickering it like a disco ball.

The next level of triangles collapses into the very core of the graphic, where we find what Saint Paul called “the gift of God that you [Timothy, every God-fearer] have through the imposition of my hands” (2 Timothy 1:6). Paul explains, “For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but of”—get ready for another triptych—“power and love and self-control.” For purposes of this meditation I shall reverse the order, and tie it all together:

Turning stone to bread would temporarily quell the lust of the flesh, since the earth-fruit’s “goodness for food” is valid enough. But Jesus spots the bluff, and by His steadfast fasting—an exercise of self-control—steads Himself fast in the Father’s love.

Had Our Lord thrown His Body from the top of the Temple, a fleet of angels would have been at the ready. But the eyes didn’t have it, however pleasing was the prospect of divine daring. What a show it would have been, if only to Himself! Jesus rather gives Himself sacrificially, as Love does, not for the likes or retweets but for God’s glory and honor—and again, not surprisingly, for the fulfillment of His own mission: divine direction always promotes human flourishing.

Scarcely thwarted by human fidelity, ever hoping to disprove it as with Job (1:9-11), Satan suggested Jesus bow before him, offering a large reward at a larger price. But the King and Center of all hearts knows the Prince of This World has not his day, but only his hour. Without pride, therefore, Jesus denies the devil. Why pick a fruit desirable for gaining wisdom when You have all the wisdom to be had? The power of prayer is Jesus’ connection to the Father in the Holy Spirit.

In His sacred humanity, God the Son learned to maintain this bond through the loving example of Mary and Joseph. It is not infused in us, although we do well to recall how ardently we must abide with those who “imposed hands” on us—those whose spiritual, emotional, and even physical proximity fostered our faith. Their involvement eventually enables us to walk with confidence in the Way of Christ.

Even so, “sin is a demon lurking at the door: his urge is toward you, yet you can be his master” (Genesis 4:7). No rest for the weary, as they say, except with the Spirit that God humanly entrusted to and through you.

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? ______!

Tweeting Globally, Loving Locally

“Almighty God, grant that we may always conform our will to Yours and serve Your Majesty in sincerity of heart.” Last weekend’s collect begged God to grant us two things in His loving kindness: the exterior action of conformity and the interior attitude of sincerity. As usual, another both/and proposal: interiorly intend what God wills, and exteriorly act in accord with it as best we can.

“What God wills” is, in the broadest sense, everything that happens. He either chooses it if it is good, or permits it if it is evil. We are sometimes astounded at what God permits in this world, what He lets people get away with. But again, note two things: “I” am part of “people,” and the Lord doesn’t let anything “get away from” His notice, as if He had been out on break while it happened.

How could God permit His Beloved Israel to be the poor lad’s cap that the bully neighboring nations tossed about in the schoolyard? The kindest of those nations, the Reuben to Joseph, was Cyrus of Persia. He conquered Israel, but extended freedom of movement and worship to every land he acquired. Somehow the Lord of Israel was his leader too, despite whatever pagan statues were on his mantle.

Or how could the Son affirm His Father’s “abandonment” upon the Cross? Only thereby to draw forth from that greatest suffering the greatest love by which we exist and gather.

God willed the Pharisees minds subtle enough to have idolized their complex takes on the Law of Moses, enough to have crafted a scheme to trap Jesus. Yet they were no match, despite how thick they tried to lay it on Him. “You don’t care about anyone’s opinion, Jesus…but we do, so whaddya think?” Jesus remained unflustered in His response to their ruse. “Since this coin has Caesar’s face, it must belong to him, so give it back. But you have God’s face; you are made in God’s image, so give yourself back.”

How fitting, that the readings for Cycle A of the 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time, which falls around the same time every year, fall now in a leap, major U.S. election year! Leap in faith we must to consider how the image in which we were made might speak to the image in which our coin is made. They’re connected, all right, because you and I are here, called not so much to carry change as to be it.

St. Paul points out how the Thessalonians have the virtues of faith, hope, and love, which we call the “theological virtues” because they pertain directly to God. They equip us for relationship with Him. Their infusion into the souls of the baptized allows the baptized to act as God’s children and to be hardwired for heaven. These virtues enable us to strive for holiness and virtue and to root out their contraries in every area of our lives, including politics.

Officials must strive, like their constituents and electors, to conform themselves to God’s will with sincerity of heart. They must genuinely represent and work toward the interests they profess, and their interests must be in step with the moral law. Unlike the Pharisees, they can’t have anything or anyone up their sleeve. They must not use people or positions as means to the end of occupying a seat in any branch of government.

Rightly have our Pope and Bishops reaffirmed the killing of innocent unborn as a primal scourge and sin. You can’t do much else in life if you aren’t allowed to be born. But “what you can do” isn’t all it’s about, either: that’s used to justify genetic and embryonic selection, embryonic stem-cell research at one end, and assisted suicide/euthanasia at the other end. It also leads to the attitude behind racism and other forms of oppression. Matter matters, because God informs it.

As my stalwart parish bulletin readers know, I go to the social media to inspire, to inform, and to entertain, and to seek the same from others. My favorite podcast is “Clerically Speaking,”* two younger priests talking about whatever you might imagine. In one of their features, they report quality Twitter content. 

One such presence, Fr. Joseph Krupp (@joeinblack), recently said this: “I’m getting calls and visits from people who want to convince me to preach in support of Biden or Trump. I’m using the opportunity to ask for help feeding the poor. No one has said yes yet. If we were as passionate about Jesus as we are about our candidate, it would change the world.”

Helping the poor is an aspect of parish life we cannot ignore. Now, it doesn’t have to happen on our campus for “the parish” to be doing it. When you help at home or somewhere else, keep in mind, that’s “the parish” helping the poor. Spiritual poverty matters alongside material poverty: all those works of mercy glorify God and help their intended recipients.

I haven’t preached much on abortion, at least directly, but over the years I have counseled women and men who were involved in abortions and have repented. Those conversations have changed me as a human being and as a priest. They show me how central Mercy is: God’s love bringing great good from great evil. The number of innocent lives affected, inside and outside the womb, cries out for greater awareness, acceptance, and action upon this truth.

I cannot understand how a politician can support unmitigated access to abortion or constrain citizens to pay for it. I further cannot understand how a politician might neglect the various fearsome conditions that encourage abortion. That leaves this voter in the lurch.

Our “consumer culture” has long formed us to use people and love things, when the Gospel would form us to love people and use things. We can speak of Jesus as “healer of nations” because He first healed people. People fed with the Eucharist must feed others spiritually and materially so those people can be strengthened to make good choices. Starving each other with empty or corrupt talk is no political path, nor should it fly within families.

Political involvement is good, but we must be cautious, especially in these days, to avoid a certain cult of political figures. Don’t be deceived into thinking “the right person” will prevent everything from falling apart. Because of the Fall of the human person, everything in this world is going to fall apart, as if by design. Don’t invest all of you, especially the worst of you, in candidates and parties engineered to disappoint. 

The political change we seek, like personal conversion, begins at home, with concrete service. Legislation and jurisprudence matter, yes, but concrete service is closer to you than the White House, Capitol Hill or Supreme Court. When Pope St. John Paul II spoke of a Culture of Life, he intended Catholics to be Catholics, people of good will to be such, by equipping mothers and fathers and children concretely as we alone can.

One more Tweet: Brother Simon, OSB (@monksimonosb), quoting a fellow Benedictine: “Until you are convinced that prayer is the best use of your time, you will not find time for prayer.” I must consider my personal relationship with God in prayer the most reliable place where God works.

Recall this weekend is World Mission Sunday. On 1 October we celebrated St. Therese of Lisieux, co-patroness of the missions, who from the age of 14 to her death 10 years later never left her convent. You get that? The missions, sustained by the prayers of an immobile mover of hearts.

Despite whatever happens in this election, whatever part you or I might choose to take in it, remember: God is in control. And you and I, do best to be available to Him as locally as possible in prayer and service, surrendering the control we’d like to have over the particulars.

*Much of the structure and some of the content of this proposed homily came from my listening to Episode 114 of “Clerically Speaking,” which I humbly yet forcefully recommend to your open ears. It's a "proposed homily" because Deacon Joe was scheduled to preach this weekend, yet I inadvertently prepared the above homily anyhow.