All Hallows Eve

At sundown, the annual 3-day festival of All Saints/All Souls begins. Let's not forget the Christian foundation of these hallowed, that is, sanctified days. Tomorrow, 1 November, is the Solemnity of All Saints. This is a celebration of the communio sanctorum, the communion of holy people and things.

As Catholics, we have a sacramental view of the world. Creation, in its materiality, is good. For Catholics, a Church is not just a building, a paten is not just a plate, and a chalice is no mere cup. We have sacramentals, too. Around my neck I wear a chain. On that chain are blessed medals: one of Mary's Immaculate Heart and Jesus' Sacred Heart, Saint Mary Magdalene, and Venerable Matt Talbot. I also always carry a Rosary in my pocket. These are not just ordinary objects. They are sacamentals, means through which God channels grace. I also have a Saint Benedict medal on my nightstand, in my den, and both my working offices.

As a deacon, when I bless a Rosary, a medal, a statue, or other appropriate items, I always pray that it will be a channel of God's grace for the one who wears, carries, sees, and/or uses it.

2 November is the Feast of All Souls. All Souls is Roman Catholic Memorial Day, the day we remember our beloved dead, pray for them, and pray for all the souls in Purgatory- something we don't do enough. This also includes seeking indulgences.

In any case, tonight is Halloween. Have some fun. No need to go dark to do this. Always remember, by virtue of your baptism, your confirmation, your belonging to the communio sanctorum, "... you are children of the light and children of the day. We are not of the night or of darkness" (1 Thessalonians 5:5).

Trying to pick the pieces of a fragmented year, the late Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London," performed by Adam Sandler, is a Καθολικός διάκονος Halloween traditio:

Feast of Saints Simon & Jude, Apostles

Readings: Ephesians 2:19-22; Psalm 19:2-5; Luke 6:12-16

At what we might call the “high end” and “low end” of the Twelve, some apostles do not have their own feast day. At the high end, Saints Peter & Paul share a Solemnity on 29 June. Beyond that, the Church celebrates the Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul on 25 January and the Feast of the Chair of Saint Peter on 22 February.

On the “low end,” today the Church celebrates the Feast of the Apostles Simon & Jude together. Unlike Saints Peter & Paul, Saints Simon & Jude do not have other days on the liturgical calendar. But the reason we celebrate them together isn’t because they’re second-rate apostles. Among the Twelve called by Jesus, there is no such category.

Rather, we remember Simon and Jude together because Tradition hands on that they met their martyrdom together in Persia, where they went to proclaim the Gospel, as Peter went to Rome, Thomas to India, and Paul throughout Asia Minor, etc. 

Simon is identified as a “zealot.” In Jesus’ time, a zealot was an observant Jew who fervently sought to restore the kingdom of Israel. Restoring Israel as a kingdom meant getting rid of the occupying Romans and having a descendant of David on the throne. What distinguished zealots from their fellow Jews, who, by and large, also wanted Israel restored, was that the zealots resorted to violence as a means to achieving their desired end.

Jesus, too, was a revolutionary. But His is a revolution of love, not violence. The Lord’s most revolutionary act was to die on the cross. Saint Simon, then, was converted away from violence to the Gospel. Love has its own violence, which is experienced inwardly. A modern-day successor of the apostles, Saint Oscar Romero, summed this up beautifully:

We have never preached violence, except the violence of love, which left Christ nailed to a cross, the violence that we must each do to ourselves to overcome our selfishness… The violence we preach is not the violence of the sword… It is the violence of love, of brotherhood…¹

Jude Thaddeus is the patron of hopeless causes and is held to be the author of the New Testament letter of Jude. It is a one-chapter book. If you want homework, go home tonight, take 5 minutes, and read the Letter of Jude.

An apostolos is Greek for one who is sent. In Greek, “martyr” simply means “witness.” Given that, we can safely assert that Jesus sent the Twelve to be martyrs, that is, witnesses of His life, death, and resurrection. In imitatio Christi, the Twelve were martyred.

We profess that the Church is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic. When asked what it means to profess the Church as “apostolic,” most Catholics, understandably, would likely say something about apostolic succession. This, of course, is not incorrect. It is, however, incomplete.

In professing the Church as apostolic, we mean that the Church is sent. “Mass” comes from the Latin word missa, which, in addition to meaning "to be sent," is also closely related to missio, or mission. Mass concludes with a dismissal ("dismissal" is why Mass is called "Mass"). So, we are sent forth to proclaim the Gospel, to be martyrs, that is witnesses.

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1 Oscar Romero. The Violence of Love. Trans. James R. Brockman, S.J., Farmington: Bruderhof, 2003, 25.^↩

Year B: Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Isaiah 53:10-11; Psalm 33:4-5.19-20.22; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45

The Buddha was right about many things. He was certainly correct when he observed that to live is to suffer. This is not to say that life only consists of suffering. For most of us, thankfully, it does not. Digging beneath the surface a bit, most of us also know from experience that to love is to suffer.

From a Christian perspective, suffering is necessary, as troubling as that may sound. Let’s remember Jesus’ call to discipleship, which, in Mark’s Gospel, He issued a few chapters before the chapter we are currently reading:

Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it¹

Lest we fetishize it, you do not need to go in search of suffering. If you live and love enough, suffering will find you, practically guaranteed. It is also important to recognize that, in philosophical terms, God is never the formal cause of anyone’s suffering. In other words, God does not plan and carry out your suffering. It is self-evident that God permits or allows suffering in the world. This is the problem of theodicy. Understandably, it is something with which many people struggle mightily.

Our reading from the Letter to the Hebrews provides us with a deep and divinely revealed insight into the mystery of suffering when the inspired author notes that Jesus, our “high priest,” can “sympathize with our weaknesses” because, like us, He “has…been tested in every way.”² Yet, unlike us, he passed His test without sinning.

Being sinless, even though he was tempted, none of the Lord’s suffering was the result of bad choices. part. What should worry you more than suffering as the result of making sinful decisions, is prospering through sinful and even wicked choices.

Much suffering, maybe most, comes unbidden. It just happens. Such things are not God’s punishment for other, unrelated, things you’ve done. God is not petty nor hellbent on exacting revenge. God is love and, as such, desires your salvation. By recognizing this, you can use everything that happens to you not only for your own salvation but that of others.

Earlier in Hebrews, in a passage we heard two weeks ago, the inspired author observed that “in bringing many children to glory,” God made “the leader of their salvation perfect through suffering.”³ The leader of our salvation is Jesus Christ. This brings us back to Jesus’ invitation to take up your cross and, by a roundabout way, to today’s Gospel.

I love the original, British, version of the television comedy The Office (I have never sullied my eyes by watching the American knock-off). David Brent, the lead character played by Ricky Gervais, is a cringe character and the entire series is cringe comedy. James and John asking Jesus if they can sit on his right and on his left when He comes into glory is similarly cringeworthy.

Rather than simply tell them, “the places you ask to be reserved for yourselves are not mine to give,” Jesus asks them if they can suffer in the way he will suffer. Clearly clueless, which is often the state of the Twelve in Mark’s account, they reply- “We can.”⁴ Jesus, then, effectively tells them, “So be it.” He then lets them know their suffering in no way guarantees them what they ask for. Jesus entered His glory on the cross, where the places on His right and left were reserved for two thieves.⁵

The Lord only gets around to the cringe worthiness of their request when He responds to the equally shallow indignation the other ten show toward James and John. The way to be great, Jesus tells them, contra mundum, is to be small. The way to have more is to seek less, or even nothing at all. It is having the courage to be a nobody. A corollary to Jesus’ assertion is that the way to not be happy is to make your own happiness your focus.

God shows His preference for the nothings of this world over and over. Consider Saint Bernadette Soubirous, Saints Jacinta & Francisco Marto and their cousin Lucia dos Santos, all lowly peasant children to whom Our Lady deigned to appear. Think of the much-loved Little Flower, Saint Therese of Lisieux, or the simple Capuchin friar, Padre Pio, who never ventured beyond the southeastern part of his native Italy, or the patron saint of parish priests, who struggled through seminary, Saint John Vianney, to mention a few, familiar, and recent saints.

One who is genuinely great is the one who, like Jesus, seeks to serve and not to be served. Being “large and in charge” has no place in God’s kingdom. The English word “servant” is a translation of the Greek noun diakonos. Translated literally, diakonos is “deacon.” The words “serve” and “served” are from the Greek verb diakoneó.

Going beyond this, Jesus gives the Twelve the key to Apostolic leadership. Because they are the Successors of the Apostles, this refers to specifically to the office of bishop (everything in the scriptures is not directed at everyone).⁶ Not only are they to be "deacons" of all but doulos, that is, slaves of all. As Saint Paul wrote in his First Letter to the Corinthians: “I have made myself a slave to all so as to win over as many as possible.”⁷

While deacons are ordained and sacramentally empowered for the threefold diakonia of liturgy, word, and charity, every Christian, by virtue of baptism, confirmation, and genuine participation in the Eucharist, is empowered for Gospel service, for evangelization, for spreading the Gospel. Just as there is a priesthood of all the baptized, there is a diaconate of the all the baptized.

And so, dear friends in Christ, strengthened by the Eucharist, it is this service, this ministry, we are sent forth to engage in at the end of Mass. In essence, it is evangelization. It is to “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord.”⁸

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1 Mark 8:34.^↩
2 Hebrews 4:15.^↩
3 Hebrews 2:10.^↩
4 Mark 10:39-40.^↩
5 Mark 15:27.^↩
6 Second Vatican Council. Dogmatic Constitution on the Church [Lumen Gentium], sec. 20.^↩
7 1 Corinthians 9:19.^↩
8 Roman Missal. “The Order of Mass.” The Concluding Rites, sec. 144.^↩

How Occasional? Eighteen years on

I haven't been posting much since Easter. This is not my first pause over the years of this labor of love. Since Good Friday, when I took a hiatus, I have posted pretty sparingly. There is nothing to this apart from the fact that I was busy on Good Friday and Holy Saturday and, on Easter Sunday, I was utterly exhausted. As a result, I made a difficult and deliberate choice to just let it go and not post anything.

As the Easter octave unfolded, not only did I decide not to post here but I went largely inactive on social media. Initially, I vacated for six straight weeks. I have to say, that was liberating, de-toxifying. I did not grasp the effect frequent social media engagement had on me until I just walked away. Since that break, I dip in and out of social media.

Two months ago, I read on great article on The Gospel Coalition (a Reformed site from which I derive much benefit): "Why I Left Social Media—and Won’t Go Back." I am not going to delete all my accounts, but I don't plan to "be back" in the way I have been for the past decade. I shared the TGC article with my wife. As a result, over the next few weeks we mutually decided to scale back our social media use. When I am not engaging (Facebook has been my primary platform), I deactivate my account.

Blogging, even when it pretty much amounts to posting my homilies, takes time as well. It takes more time to sit and compose posts on various things. To not write about or comment on matters of interest doesn't mean I've stopped following what interests me.

Time is the basic ingredient of life. On the whole, my lack of posting is a positive, not a negative development. I have a full life. By "full," I mean most of my time every day is actively spent. While I have flirted with the idea of ending this effort, I have decided to post when I have time and there is something of interest to post. Way back in 2006, which was the year I began blogging (weird verb) in earnest, I composed a post entitled "How Occasional?" Looking at it now, I didn't answer the question. I didn't answer it because I did not know the answer. I still don't. So, we'll see.

As I almost always do when blogging about my blogging, I have to mention that Καθολικός διάκονος has been a valuable vehicle of growth for me. This blog began life as "Scott Dodge for Nobody," which was a blatant rip-off of a now-ended late Sunday night local radio show,"Tom Waits for Nobody." This past August, I passed 18 years! I was 40 years old when I started and 41 when I began in earnest. I was only a few years ordained. Another leitmotif in recent years here is how quickly time passes.

So, in addition to posting this update, I will post my homily for last Sunday, the Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time. I urge you to stay tuned. Advent is coming quickly. The occasion of a new year of grace may well prompt a more sustained effort