Passing over, not away

Ah, it's Friday once again. In addition to Dolly Parton, actor Tim Curry also died this past week. Not nearly as prominent as Parton, Curry was a tremendous actor. Like many actors of his generation, seeing it as a craft, Curry could act. He had amazing range.

Timothy James Curry (19 April 1946 – 25 August 2026)

Something I learned about Curry upon learning of his death is that his father, James Curry, was a Methodist minister. Beginning with the Second World War, James served as a Royal Navy chaplain. From what I can tell, it looks like he remained as a chaplain for some years after the war ended. As a result, the family, which included Tim's mother Patricia and his sister Judith, moved frequently.

Sadly, James died in 1958 from pneumonia. Tim was only 12 years-old. Prior to his fatal bout of pneumonia, like his son years later, James suffered a debilitating stroke. After his father's death, the family settled in South London.

In addition to enjoying and appreciating Curry's acting, I post this because I am still very surprised at how many prominent English people are children of clergy. Even John Mortimer's great literary character, Horace Rumpole, was the son of a Church of England vicar. Certainly during the time of Tim Curry's upbringing, English Methodists, which are an offshoort of Anglicanism, were very strict and kept things very simple.

Curry's range as an actor is demonstrated by the variety of roles he so successfully played. He rose to prominence in the role of Dr. Frank-N-Furter in the cult classic The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I remember driving from Ogden to Salt Lake City as a high school junior (fall of 1982) with my friends Anson and David to see this movie at the Blue Mouse theater. While we enjoyed our experience, let's just say we were not prepared for it!

Tim also played Rooster Hannigan in the 1982 film Annie as well as Cardinal Richelieu in The Three Musketeers. Memorably, Curry was cast as Pennywise the clown in the mini-series adaptation of Stephen King's It. In this role, he certainly did nothing to abate anyone's coulrophobia.

Among the roles he played on Broadway: Mozart in Amadeus and Alan Swann in My Favorite Year. Released in 1982, the latter remains a wonderful movie. The movie was adapated into a Broadway musical featuring the same title. In the film, Swann (based on Errol Flynn) was played by Peter O'Toole. Let's not forget that Tim also played Long John Silver in Muppet Treasure Island. Here's a link to a slightly spicey but very funny video concerning his interaction with Muppets. He did a killer impression of Mick Jagger on Saturday Night Live back in 1981.

Curry was also a world class gardiner and horticulturalist. Published late last year, Curry wrote a critically well-regarded and bestselling memoir: Vagabond. Tim also recorded four albums. He did some musical touring.

As mentioned previously, Curry suffered a debilitating stroke. This occurred in 2012 when he just 66 years-old. He was wheelchair bound from then until his death this past Tuesday. He continued working for several years after his stroke.

Our Friday traditio is a live audio recording of Curry singing "When a Man Loves a Woman" at a club in New York City way back in 1979.

An alternate traditio is Dolly singing a duet with Kenny Rogers: "Islands in the Stream." She and Rogers had a very special friendship. Kenny made no bones about the fact that he loved Dolly. She loved him, but as a friend, committed as she was to her marriage. The way she so warmly takes his hand moves me.

Knowing Jesus more and more

Matthew 16:13-20

Today's Gospel is one that makes it very easy, not to mention tempting, to get really theological. The temptation is twofold: 1) Christology or 2) ecclesiology. I suppose a third temptation is an apologetic for the papacy (maybe best labeled 2a).

This is not to say those things should be left unaddressed. It's perfectly legitimate and, at times, even necessary to do so, depending on the medium and on circumstances. I'm sure at one time or another, I've done all three with regard to this passage from Saint Matthew's Gospel.

But today, I feel impelled to make it more personal. After all, the question the Lord poses to Peter on the road to Caesarea Philippi is the question he poses to you and to me: "But who do you say that I am?" (Matthew 16:15). I think the fact that he asks this question while he and his disciples were on the way, on the road, has some significance. As members of God's pilgrim people, we're all on our way. If we're moving, our understanding of who Jesus is changes, that is, deepens over time.

Something the late Rich Mullins said a long time ago kind of gets to the point I'm trying to make: "Life and living comes from God- it comes from Jesus- not from doctrine or good morals" (Les Sussman. Praise Him!: Christian Music Stars Share Their Favorite Verses from the Scriptures: 1998). I'm going to leave good morals alone apart from saying that reducing faith to morals is very common.

It's not that morals don't matter, like doctrine, they do matter. It's just, as Rich went on to say, "sometimes I think we put the cart before the horse." As far as doctrine, Saint Paul states it nicely in our reading from Romans: "Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!" (Romans 11:33). Words always fall short of the Mystery.

Jesus Walking, by Alexandre Bida, 1891

Christians know the answer to the question (it's what makes you a Christian): Jesus is Lord. He is the Messiah. He's the Savior, the Son of God, etc. But isn't reciting these titles, as accurate and truthful as I believe them to be, just saying things about him?

Without a doubt, each of us, as Depeche Mode insisted, has our own personal Jesus. This shouldn't be too shocking. After all, isn't it a good thing to have and cultivate a personal relationship with the Lord? But even short of a relationship with him, everyone has an image, an idea, of him.

One risk in having a personal Jesus is that we can make him not only personal but private. This is done by making him into my image instead of letting myself be conformed into his image. At certain times in history, even the Church has made the Lord into someone other than who he is. But even during dark times, there were always those, like Saint Francis of Assisi, who came along in the thirteenth century, when the institution of the Church was at a particularly low ebb, who've not merely professed that Jesus is Lord but who lived out the radical implications of this profession of faith.

Saint Anthony, the great Desert Father, was another such figure. One day in Church, he heard Jesus' teaching about selling everything and following him (Matthew 19:21). In response, Anthony did just that. Both of these show the need for community, for the Church.

The Church isn't built on the confession of a perfect disciple who had it all figured out at that moment on the dusty Galilean road. Not only would Peter go on to deny Jesus during his passion, he would be rebuked by Paul for falling back in with those Christians who continued to insist that even Gentile converts needed to adhere to the Law (see Galatians 2:11-14).

I firmly believe that Peter answered Jesus's question both correctly and sincerely. But let's not forget, he was still on the way, as am I, as are you. Peter still has a lot to learn about what it means to confess Jesus as Messiah, as Son of God. I do, too. I am encouraged that, as Michael Card sang, "There is a joy in the journey."

Mercy unbounded

Readings: Isaiah 56:1.6-7; Psalm 67:2-3.5-6.8; Romans 11:13-15.29-32; Matthew 15:21-28

An important aspect of today's Gospel that is often overlooked is that it is a Gentile, a Canaanite women no less, who recognizes Jesus for who he is: the "Lord, Son of David!" This is a messianic greeting. We can be quite certain that in the context of this passage, her greeting is not lost on the Lord. He knows that she knows who he is, even when many in Israel, perhaps even some of his disciples, did not.

In the Gospels, Jesus employs a variety of methods to teach. This pericope is an instance when he gives a powerful lesson using a tough technique. What is the lesson? The lesson is that God's care and concern, his goodnes and mercy, extend beyond Israel, beyond the chosen people. In our day, this is as true of the Church as it was of Israel.

Many spend a lot of time and energy drawing lines to determine who is left out. But in the bizarro world of God's kingdom, there is only us, no them. You know what? This remains downright scandalous to many people.

Without a doubt, the most fundamental aspect of Pope Francis' pontificate was reminding us of the scandalous way God manifests his love. El amor de Dios es para todos, todo el tiempo. You can't earn God's love. This is not true because you're so bad and God is so good (that is true of me, however). It's because you can't earn what you not only always have, but what you already always have and cannot lose. What scripture reveals we need to take to heart: "God is love" (1 John 4:8.16).

Our epistle reading today harmonizes nicely with the Old Testament and Gospel readings. In this passage from his Letter to the Romans, Saint Paul lays out a great mystery. According to the apostle, it is because of Israel's disobedience that we, the Gentiles, have received God's mercy. You see, as Gentiles, we are unencumbered by the Law. For Paul, the Law exists to show us that we can't measure up to it. Only one perfectly observed the Law, Jesus.

Crumbs of Love, by Michael Cook, 2008

It is because of the mercy we have received, that Israel, whose "call is irrevocable," will receive mercy. This is what it means when you read, "For God delivered all to disobedience, that he might have mercy upon all." La misericordia de Dios es para todos.

Up until he says, "O woman, great is your faith!", including his blowing off her intial plea, the Lord's answers might seem a bit harsh. The lesson is that this Canannite woman, so desperate to find relief for her daughter, due to her persistent faith, is an example of faith even to Israel. Such expressions of faith by non-Jews is a constant throughout the Gospel narratives.

Sometimes our preconceptions, which easily and often become misconceptions, get in God's way. This not only affects us, but it can easily affect others- "Send her away." Heaven forbid!

According to the oracle from Isaiah, it is

The foreigners who join themselves to the LORD,
ministering to him,
loving the name of the LORD,
and becoming his servants

This why all the nations of the earth will praise God.

"Rend the veil and we shall sail"

As I slowly and by God's grace begin to emerge from my doldrums, hoping and praying for a better second half of 2026, today's traditio is an easy one. It's one that's more in tune with the spirit of the Καθολικός διάκονος Friday traditio. The last several have not only been discernibly out of tune, but only striking a single note. These last several posts I have felt much more myself. It helps that I am nearing the end of some restful and less stressful weeks.

My own screenshot from the Vatican Bolletino for 31 July 2026

Reviewing The Pillar's "Starting Seven" for today, I quickly noted that the only audience Pope Leo had scheduled for today was with "la Signora Patricia Lee Smith." After a quick check, not believing my initial take, I discovered that the Pontiff had indeed granted an audience to the one and only Patti Smith. Patti is often referred to as "the godmother of punk." There is even a video of the beginning of their meeting. You can watch it here.

Patricia Lee Smith w/ His Holiness, Pope Leo XIV- 31 July 2026

Like the Holy Father, Patti was born in Chicago. She is nearly ten years his senior. In both 2014 and 2021, during Pope Francis' pontificate, Patti played at the Vatican's Christmas concert. While Smith is not Catholic, she has a great devotion to Saint Francis of Assisi, whom she calls an "environmentalist saint." Of course, Pope Leo has declared this year a Jubilee for Saint Francis.

It's safe to say, using a contemporary locution, that she is "Catholic adjacent." It's no small thing to have a private audience with the pope. Leo must've wanted to meet her. He's a person both with great expanse and with depth- not a hollow man.

Provocatively, the first words to the first song ("Gloria: In Excelsis Deo") on her earth-shattering debut album, released in 1975 (51 years ago!) simply entitled Horses, are: "Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine." For the unnuanced among us, you have unravel the thread a bit.

In his last Encyclical, Dilexit nos, on devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, Pope Francis, commenting on the Little Flower's Sacred Heart devotion, which, as was her wont, can seem a little non-standard, insisted:

Those moralizers who want to keep a tight rein on God’s mercy and grace might claim that Therese could say this because she was a saint, but a simple person could not say the same. In that way, they excise from the spirituality of Saint Therese its wonderful originality, which reflects the heart of the Gospel. Sadly, in certain Christian circles we often encounter this attempt to fit the Holy Spirit into a certain preconceived pattern in a way that enables them to keep everything under their supervision. Yet this astute Doctor of the Church reduces them to silence and directly contradicts their reductive view in these clear words: “If I had committed all possible crimes, I would always have the same confidence; I feel that this whole multitude of offenses would be like a drop of water thrown into a fiery furnace” (sec 137)

In 1978, with the Patti Smith Group, she also recorded the album Easter.

Despite being Friday (the Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Loyola), it is from Easter that today's traditio emanates. While the album features what is perhaps Patti's best-known song, "Because the Night" (co-written with Bruce Springsteen), that is not our traditio. Rather, it is the first track: "Till Victory."

Pope Leo XIV on the diaconate

I recently finished Elise Ann Allen's Pope Leo XIV: A Biography. Back in May, I pretty much read the entire book with the exception of Allen's interview with the Holy Father, which she conducted last summer. Allen's is a very good biography that gives the reader a good sense of who Robert Prevost, now Pope Leo XIV, is. I recommend it.

In her interview, she asked a couple of questions about the Synod on Synodality. She focused in on some of the major issues that have emerged from that eccelsial exercise. These issues have been taken up by different study groups. One of these issues is the role of women in the Church. A subsection to that is the proposal to ordain women as deacons.

The Holy Father, who I do not believe either as a priest or a bishop has a deep personal experience of working with deacons, takes up the issue in much the same way as the head of the papally-appointed commission, Cardinal Giuseppe Petrocchi, did (a good summary can be found here). That is to say, he pointed to the great need for a better understanding of the diaconate.

Specifically, the Pontiff asked why the diaconate as a permanent order of ministry has not been more widely implemented in the Church throughout the world. This would include South America, where his former Diocese of Chiclayo, Peru, seems to have zero men serving permanently as deacons.

Noting that the debate over women deacons "will continue to be an issue," Pope Leo clearly stated that presently, "I don't have an intention of changing the teaching of the Church on this topic." He went on to give an exposition of what he meant when he said there are some important questions about the diaconate as a permanent order of ordained ministry that the Church still needs to address.

Deacon Robert Prevost with Pope Saint John Paul II

Pointing to a Wednesday catechesis he gave to "a fairly large group of English-speaking permanent deacons," he observed,

"This is one of the groups where deacons are better represented because there are parts of the world that never really promoted the permanent diaconate, and that itself became a question: Why would we talk about ordaining women to the diaconate if the diaconate itself is not yet properly understood and properly developed and promoted within the Church? And what are the reasons for that? (Allen, page 267)

In Lumen Gentium section 29, which is the magna carta of the restored and renewed diaconate, the Council points to the importance, perhaps even the necessity of the diaconate:

Since these duties [those pertaining to the diaconate as set forth in the preceding paragraph], so very necessary to the life of the Church, can be fulfilled only with difficulty in many regions in accordance with the discipline of the Latin Church as it exists today, the diaconate can in the future be restored as a proper and permanent rank of the hierarchy

Pope Leo recognizes the "significant inspiration at the time of the Council when the permanent diaconate was in effect reinstated [I love his use of the phrase "in effect" here, it shows how carefully he thinks and speaks], it has not become, in many parts of the world, what I think some people thought it would be earlier on" (all taken from pages 267-269 of Allen's book).

At the Council, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (i.e., Lumen Gentium) was divided into thirty-nine sections. Bishops at the Council voted on each of these seperately prior to voting on the entire constitution. Five of these sections specifically pertained to the diaconate. Four the five passed by comfortable margins. Only the proposal to ordain younger men deacons without having them make a vow of celibacy failed.

Pope Leo then proceeds to an important point Pope Francis made, which is that the Church doesn't need to clericalize everyone and all ministry. Overall, he calls for the Church universal to come to a better and deeper understanding of the diaconate as a permanent order of ministry in the Church. There is a lot of very good and important work that has been done on the diaconate by many people with a great expertise. This makes it so much more the shame that deacons, both in general and those with the requisite expertise, were not included in the Synod. In my view, what the Synod has produced on the diaconate so far, to put it bluntly, is very subpar.

The report by the commission appointed in 2020 by Pope Francis to study the diaconate (the second such commission he appointed- the first dissolved) is a hopeful sign that will lead to better effots, including when it come to synodality. As Deacon Ray Vann's Developing Diaconal Theology: A Study of the Diaconate and Actions in the Person of Christ the Head amply demonstrates, there really is not only widespread confusion, even among bishops, about the nature of the diaconate, but a hesitancy to really let deacons flourish, aiding the mission of the Church. This goes back to Ditewig's groundbreaking doctoral dissertation on deacons and governance in the Church.

One clarification is that there is no such thing as a "transitional" deacon. Once a deacon, always a deacon. As Deacon Bill Ditewig, one of those experts on the diaconate to whom I earlier alluded, oftens says in this regard: "Your bishop was not a transitional priest."

In my opinion (it is only that, my opinion), men destined for priestly ordination should spend 2-3 years serving as deacons prior to priestly ordination.

An ecumenical note

When it comes to Christ's real presence in the Eucharist, Catholics understandably tend to focus intensely on his presence in the consecrated, transsubtantiated, elements of bread of wine. We often do so to the exclusion of the other ways Christ is present in the Eucharist. To be clear, by "Eucharist," I mean the Mass, the Eucharistic liturgy.

That Eucharist can refer exclusively to the consecrated elements, strikes me as another indication of what is perhaps too concentrated a focus. According to Sacrosanctum Concilium, while he is "especially [present] under the Eucharistic species," Christ is also present in the Eucharist(ic liturgy) in three other distinct and integral ways: in the gathering of the baptized, that is "when the Church prays and sings," in the person of the priest, in the proclamation of Sacred Scripture (sec. 7).

It is also important to note that the high point of the Eucharistic liturgy is not the priest speaking the words of consecration. As necessary and vitally important as this is, it is not the high point. The Eucharistic liturgy "builds" toward the Communion Rite. It is our reception of Christ's body and blood that makes us Christ's Body in and for the world. Eucharist leads to mission, which is why we call the Eucharistic liturgy "Mass." From the Latin root missa, it relates to missio, or mission.

In terms of liturgies and worship services celebrated by other duly baptized Christians, I frequently hear Catholic comments along the lines that Christ is not really present in these celebrations. But can he be truly absent? Is it possible that the Lord is not true to his word that where two or more are gathered in his name, he is present (see Matthew 18:20)? If we take our cue from a dogmatic constitution approved by an ecumenical council and promulgated by the Roman Pontiff, which gives said constitution a very "high" authority in terms of the Church's magisterium, Christ is present in these celebrations.

When and where the baptized gather to pray and sing, Christ is present. When and where the scriptures are proclaimed in a gathering of the baptized, Christ is present. Let's not forget, all the baptized in some way belong to the one Church of Christ. It is a matter of great importance that the Catholic Church does not rebaptize those who are truly and duly baptized when they seek to be in full communion. It's hard for many not have a monopoly on Jesus Christ.

Then, of course, there is the Orthodox Church, which, from a Catholic perspective, celebrate valid sacraments. When someone who is Orthodox seeks to come into full communion with the Catholic Church, s/he is not only not baptized, s/he is not reconfirmed.

Baptism is the basis of ecumenism. Ecumenism differs from other ways the Church dialogs, like interreligious dialogs or discussions with new religious movements (interactions with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Jehovah's Witnesses, etc., fall into this category, not full-blown ecumenism).

Ecumenism is Christians working together to foster communion of all who believe in Christ, all who are baptized into his death and resurrection.

First among "the initiatives and activities planned and undertaken" with regard to ecumenism, the Second Vatican Council, in its decree Unitatis redintegratio, is that Catholics should make "every effort to avoid expressions, judgments and actions which do not represent the condition of our separated brethren with truth and fairness and so make mutual relations with them more difficult" (sec. 4). Insisting there is no way Christ is present when they gather to worship seems to me very much a violation of this principle.

A corollary

This post is a corollary to my Sunday reflection on the epistle reading from Romans 5:6-11. The following also arises from the liturgy. It was prompted by Morning Prayer, traditionally called Lauds, one of the offices that comprise the Church's official prayer, known as Liturgy of the Hours.

Two things in Morning Prayer for Tuesday, Week III of the Psalter linked to the connection between faith and works that is so crucial for living a genuinely Christian life. But before getting to parts of this morning's prayer, there was something else that helps make that connection. It is a clip I watched last night from a standup performance by comedian Aaron Weber.

In course of talking about an interaction he had with a homeless man he'd come to be acquainted with in Nashville, where he lives, he said something like, "As a Christian, I try to help the poor." He then noted, "But I'm a Catholic, so I like them to earn it." This encapuslates precisely the attitude I was trying address, one that, to repeat, is so vital to understanding where Pope Francis was coming from.

Now, don't get me wrong. Grace is not opposed to effort. Being a Christian is not a passive endeavor. Far from it. Being a Christian requires one to live very intentionally. Grace is opposed to earning. As noted, the effort (i.e., good works) prompted by grace flow from gratitude. "Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give" (Matthew 10:8).

This brings me to the prompt from today's Morning Prayer: the Old Testament Canticle for Tuesday Morning, Week III, is Isaiah 26:1-4.7-9.12. Like the words quoted above from last Sunday's Gospel, what struck me were the final words of the canticle: "LORD, you will decree peace for us, for you have accomplished all we have done" (Isaiah 26:12).

Then, one of the Intercessions for Morning Prayer sort of made this a revelatory moment:

Look kindly upon our weakness and hasten to our aid,
for without you we can do nothing

As Christians, we are not compelled by the Law. Following Christ is not about complying with the checklist of holiness. Rather, as Saint Paul insisted, it is "the love of Christ [that] impels us" (2 Corinthians 5:14). This is not a distinction without a difference. Rather, it is two very different ways of being.

Christ died for us

Romans 5:6-11

Okay, I did not preach this Sunday. Therfore, I can once again focus on the second, or "epistle," reading. This week's second reading is from Saint Paul's Letter to the Romans.

Unlike the apostle's other letters to various churches (Corithians, Philippians, Ephesians, Colossians, Thessalonians), his Letter to the Romans is not to a Church he founded. The Church in Rome, where Saint Peter is venerated as first bishop, was already extant. Paul's reason for writing to the Christians of Rome was that, having appealed his case to the emperor, which was his right as a Roman citizen, he was making his way there as a prisoner of the state.

Because of the circumstances leading to his missive, the apostle does not comment on matters within the Roman Christian community nor seek to correct anything. What we have in Romans, considered to be the final text of the authentically Pauline corpus, is what can best be described as the Church's earliest systematic exposition of Christian soteriology. In some respects, what we have in Romans is a more mature statement of fundamental matters Paul first wrote about in his Letter to the Philippians.

Our passage for this Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, taken from the fifth chapter of Romans, is best prefaced by verse twenty-three of the third chapter of Romans: "all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God." It is sin, which is best defined as the failure to love God with your entire being and to love your neighbor as you love yourself, that makes us, to use Paul's word, ἀσεβής.

ἀσεβής transliterates as asebés. Asebés has a range of meaning from irreverent to impious to wicked. All of these are, of course, "ungodly."

Despite our impiety and even our wickedness, God still loves us. He proves (not proved- past tense) his love for us that wicked though we be, "Christ died for us." Now, it would be going too far to say that God loves us because of our sinfulness. Yet, it does not go far enough to say that God loves us inspite of our wicked ways. It is our sinfulness that makes us like sheep without a shepherd. It is this that also moves the Sacred Heart of Jesus so deeply.

I was reminded of this earlier this week when a friend posted something on Faceook written by the late Father Herbert McCabe:

Sin doesn’t alter God’s attitude to us; it alters our attitude to him, so that we change him from the God who is simply love and nothing else into this punitive ogre, this Satan. Sin matters enormously to us if we are sinners; it does not matter at all to God. In a fairly literal sense, he doesn’t give a damn about our sin. It is we who give damns (Faith Within Reason, pg. 157)

What McCabe wrote strikes me as a great exposition of this Pauline passage.

This brings me to a fundamental aspect of the teaching of Pope Francis, something so fundamental to understanding him that if not grasped confusion ensues. In his lengthy interview with his fellow Jesuit, Father Anthony Spadoro shortly after becoming Pope, Francis, when asked who he was, led with this:

I do not know what might be the most fitting description…. I am a sinner. This is the most accurate definition. It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre. I am a sinner (See "A Big Heart Open to God")

I am going to say it, without this acknowledgement, you cannot be a Christian. But this is not enough. To be a Christian, you must also realize that you are a loved sinner, one for whom Christ died.

To be a Christian, then, is to be a grateful recipient of God's mercy given us in Christ. You can't receive divine mercy if you don't realize your need for it. The Holy Spirit is the medium through which mercy is given and received.

Being a grateful recipient of God's mercy means having the desire for everyone to experience it. A big part of Pope Francis' teaching and witness was to flesh out what this means in terms of living one's life and sharing one's faith in a convincing way.

Even now among many Catholics, the belief that you earn your salvation through good works persists. Well, you don't and you can't. But you can easily drive yourself and others nuts by desperately holding onto and living from such a futile belief. Living from such a belief quickly reduces Christianity to banal moralism. Especially early on in his pontificate, Francis took aim at this tendency with both barrels.

It is Christ and Christ alone who, while we are irreverent, impious, and at times even wicked, reconciles us to God. This is an ongoing work until the Lord returns. This is what it means when we say in the context of the liturgy, "We proclaim your death, O Lord/And profess your resurrection/Until you come again."

As Saint Paul implies, reconciliation with God through Christ is a gift. Hence, it can only be "received." Truly receiving this amazing gift makes one deeply grateful. "Eucharist," after all, means thanksgiving. It is from gratefulness that good works flow. A Christian attitude is one of gratitude.

Of synods and synodaling

The Church being "synodal" or becoming "synodal" or seeking to be more "synodal" is something you hear all the time these days. As most of us know by now, in essence, being "synodal" means "walking with" one another. So, as Church, as God's pilgrim people, we walk together. What seems to sometimes be lost is that our walking together as pilgrims indicates we have a destination, a place we're heading towards. Even if they veer off the path, pilgrims are distinct from wanderers. As Christians, we know "the Way."

It's also easy to overlook and underappreciate all the various synodal instruments the Church already has. These have largely emerged since the Second Vatican Council: parish and diocesan finance councils, pastoral councils, presbyteral and diaconal councils, bishops conferences, liturgical committees, diocesan review boards, vocations committees, admissions and scrutiny committees, etc. Yet, during this era, we rarely see these instruments of synodality named.

Being completely overlooked means that there is no mention, insistence, or even suggestion that these existing means of synodality be strengthened. Each of the above instruments are means of co-responsibility. Synodality as presently constituted runs the risk of the making the Church more, not less, self-referential.

Despite Pope Francis explicitly and publicly indicating otherwise, synodality to a lot people has come to be synonymous with something akin to a Church parliament. All this is a lead up to the increasing controversy surrounding the synodal report of Study Group 9. Study Group 9 is rather inelegantly named "Theological Criteria and Synodal Methodologies for Shared Discernment of Emerging Doctrinal, Pastoral, and Ethical Issues." This report alone could very well (if it hasn't already) undermine the credibility and integrity of the synod and synodality. I will get to why in a moment.

Specifically, Annex A of Study Group 9's report contains testimonies from two male Catholics who are homosexual. One of these testimonies contains a harsh criticism of Courage International. Of particular concern in his critique is the accusation that Courage engages in "reparative therapy," sometimes called "conversion therapy." The further claim is made that Courage's approach "separates faith and sexuality."

Courage is an approved Catholic apostolate. So grave were the criticisms that Courage has publicly responded. In their response, they insist that the testimony that appears in an Annex to the report engages in both "calumy and detraction." One might ask, is mandatory priestly and religious celibacy an exercise in separating faith and sexuality?

Now I come to the matter that may really undermine the credibility of the whole synodal process. When it comes to machinations like this, it doesn't matter what the issue is or what study group it emerged from. Diana Montagna writes about what happened on her Substack: "Fr. James Martin: The 'Mastermind' Behind the Two Testimonies in the Vatican’s Synod Report on Homosexuality."

Montagna, relying on and even reproducing in translation an article that appeared in the Spanish online publication Página Católica, is that Father James Martin was the sole force behind the inclusion of these testimonies. Of note, there is no testimony from a female nor from a same-sex attracted Catholic of either gender who is endeavoring to live accordance with what the Church teaches. Aiding those who desire to do just that constitues the raison d'etre of Courage.

Montagna writes: "The revelations even further erode the credibility of the Synod on Synodality, long presented by the Vatican as an exercise in listening to the whole Church with broad ecclesial representation." As a result of this, the General Secretariat of the Synod is seeking to place some distance between itself and the group reports, especially that of Study Group 9.

To my mind, the most salient criticism of the synodal way up to now is that it is not broadly representative of the Church. I have voiced similar reservations from the beginning. I am in no way opposed to synodality. What we're seeing is something else entirely.

Having read more in-depth about Pope Leo, it strikes me that these are the kinds of things he's good at engaging. His comments on the German bishops' liturgical text for blessing same-sex unions indicate that he is not one to shrink back from challenges. Even Pope Francis frequently noted that, as a son of the Church, he fully embraced with the Church teaches and believed in what the Catechism teaches on these matters.

If the Study Group 9 report weren't enough, we have the German conference of bishops seeking to act in direct contradiction of Fiducia Supplicans as written as well as to subsequent clarfications by the Dicastery of the Doctrine of the Faith. See Larry Chapp's "The German Gambit" and Luke Coppen's "Where is the Rome-Germany blessings battle heading?"

Coppen's article highlights the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith's 2024 letter, mentioned by the Prefect in a recent interview. In the same interview, Cardinal Fernandez made a point of stating that the DDF's negative 2024 judgment not only applied to the draft sent to Rome but the final form as well. The forthrightness and heading off at the pass seems to me pure Pope Leo.

In all honesty, I have to admit that the point of Fiducia Supplicans remains a mystery to me. Prior to its promulgation, people asked for and received spontaneous blessings from bishops, priests, and deacons. I surmise that such blessings were readily given without probing moral inquiries into the lives of those requesting them. I've never interrogated anyone asking me for a blessing. So, why muddy the waters?

In his introduction to a recently published French book, Homos Et Cathos: L’Église à l’épreuve du réel, Cardinal Jean-Paul Vesco, O.P. wrote: "For my part, I do not believe that the intention of this text was to permit only a 'hush-hush' blessing of same-sex couples, as has sometimes been understood." The "text" to which His Eminence refers is Fiducia Supplicans.

In light of section 5 of "this text," I have a hard time ascertaining how Cardinal Vesco can arrive at the conclusion he does. This is not some ideological or editorial point. I seriously don't see how the Cardinal's belief can persist in light of what Fiducia Supplicans actually says.

Cardinal Willem Eijk of The Netherlands issued a strong response to Study Group 9's report (see "Cardinal Eijk: Same-Sex Synod Report Must Be Forcefully Refuted"). He, too, engages the testimonies. His Eminence gets to the heart of the matter, theologically speaking, when he insists:

The deeper problem lies in the report's entire methodological framework. The authors subordinate everything to describing a “synodal process” focused on people’s practices and experiences. They explicitly reject what they call “abstractly proclaiming and deductively applying principles that are set out in an immutable and rigid manner.” Instead, they advocate for maintaining a “fruitful tension between what has been established in the Church’s doctrine and Her pastoral practice and the practices of life”

To be clear, virtually no one would dispute the last assertion about needing to maintain such a tension. But what is set forth, far from maintaining tension, is giving sole priority to the "the practices of life," which radically relativizes the Church's moral doctrine. Just as one should not let the practices of life side go slack, one should not drop the Church's moral doctrine. Pastoral ministry is an art that requires balancing a person's lived experience with what the Church teaches.

In any case, it seems clear that in addition to the need to reflect the Church more broadly, there needs to be much more robust discussion and even arguing in the synodal process. What if, for example, a representative of Courage (representing a Church-approved apostolate) was included in Study Group 9? Also, the competency of the study committees needs to be much better defined.

Robust disputation done in good faith is true dialogue. The Church has a great tradition of theological disputation. Such unfeigned and forthright interaction is the only way to achieve genuine unity. The kinds political manuvering that prompted this overly long post undermines unity by seeking to impose. This becomes particularly troublesome when doctrinal matters are in play. A small group of likeminded people is not an exercise in synodality.

The main point of this post isn't really to take sides in any specific debate. It is simply to highlight that, at least thus far, the synodal process needs to be much more robust. Also, the Church needs to be less, not more, self-referential. To be missionary disciples, we must be clear about our mission: proclaiming that Jesus Christ is Lord, with all that entails and not lightly discarding what has been handed on to us.

Deacons extended

Reading: Acts 8:5-8.14-17

Today finds me in rural Pennsylvania. Liberty Township, to be precise. I am here to lay my father-in-law to rest. He died in late January. It's beautiful and peaceful here. Now that I'm here, I find myself wishing our trip wasn't quite so short.

In any case, in our first reading for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, we hear more about one of the seven men who the Church holds to be her first deacons. Of the seven men set apart and consecrated for service in and to the primitive Church, there are only two we hear more about: Stephen and Philip.

There is of course Stephen, who, in addition to serving the Jerusalem community that held all things in common by ensuring what was held in common was distributed justly, began to boldly proclaim Jesus as the Christ, the Messiah, God's anointed. As a result, at the behest of one Saul of Tarsus, he was stoned to death.

Acts also informs us about Philip, also one of the seven men chosen by the community and consecrated by the apostles. After the martyrdom of Stephen, the Church, which, at this early stage, only existed in Jerusalem, experienced (likely also at the hands of the same Saul), a terrible persecution. It was due to this persecution that Philip and his daughters fled northward to Samaria.

Once in Samaria, like Stephen in Jerusalem, Philip "proclaimed Christ to them," that is, proclaimed Jesus as Messiah to the people of Samaria (Acts 8:5). Not only did this deacon proclaim the Gospel of salvation through Jesus, who is the Christ, he performed signs and wonders. He healed those who were physically handicapped and paralyzed.

As people responded to his proclamation of the kerygma, Philip baptized them. In short, the Holy Spirit, working through Philip, accomplished something of a mini-Pentecost in Samaria. Philip then went back to Jerusalem to retrieve Peter and John. These two apostles then went and "confirmed" the baptism of the Samaritans who had placed their faith in Christ. For those, like me, with some charismatic inclinations, baptized them with the Holy Spirit.

Saint Philip in Samaria

In our passage, taken from the Lord's Last Supper Discourse in Saint John, Jesus tells His closest disciples that when He goes, He will send them the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, "another Advocate." The Holy Spirit is the mode of Christ's resurrection presence among, in, and through us. These days, it seems, we are falling back into more of an institutional posture at the expense of a charismatic one. Noting this, Pope Francis sought to create some much-needed tension.

This kind of tension energizes the Church. When it comes to the institutional and charismatic, we need to grasp the Catholic et/et (i.e., both/and). It is the Holy Spirit who allows us to avoid and overcome our tendency to create false dilemmas. The Church should neither be a lifeless institution nor an antinomian free-for-all.

Let's not forget, hearkening back to last week's reading from Acts, the threefold criteria for those considered the Church's first deacons was clearly set forth: men of good reputation, who are filled the Spirit, and with wisdom. Wisdom, of course, being one the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Given its ministerial flexibility to serve the Church and the world, the diaconate is itself a charismatic office. It should be understood and exercised as such.

Good shepherds to good deacons

Acts 6:1-7

Our first reading for the Fifth Sunday of Easter is what the Church, at least since Saint Irenaeus of Lyons, has taken to be the scriptural account of the institution of the diaconate (See Against the Heretics, Book III, Chapter 10). Hence, as a deacon, it seems appropriate to reflect on this today. Following, as it does, Good Shepherd Sunday, which is usually employed, and rightly so, to talk about priestly ministry, it seem fortuitous to reflect on the diaconate.

If we take Acts 6:1-7 seriously as the inspired account of the institution of the diaconate (exegetically, there are a few issues with doing so unreservedly), we see that there are three fundamental criterion: men of good reputation, who are "filled with the Spirit and wisdom" (Acts 6:3). At least in part, being a man of good reputation means being a just man.

The diakonia in which Stephen, Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicholas of Antioch, were set apart to engage in was ensuring that within the primitive Christian community, which held all things in common, that Greek-speaking widows received their fair share of the daily distribution of food. Since this diakonia was table service, we can stretch this to perhaps entail both the ministries of charity and of liturgy a little anachronistically.

What about the diakonia of the word? Well, there is a reason that Stephen, followed by Philip, is the first of the seven men named. As a reading of the rest of Acts 6 and then Acts 7 shows, it wasn't long before at least Stephen joined with the apostles in proclaiming the kerygma. It was for this that he was made the Church's first martyr.

Not long after that, when the primitive Church fell under heavy persecution in Jerusalem, causing many to flee, including Philip along with his daughters, that the second of the seven named preached the Gospel and baptized in Samaria. His most famous convert being the Ethiopian eunuch. It was Philip who went and brought Peter and John from Jerusalem to Samaria to impart the Holy Spirit on those whom he had baptized (see Acts 8).

As the ones who proclaim the Gospel in the liturgy, is important for the deacon to always keep in mind the exhortation received from his bishop during ordination as the bishop placed the evangelary in his hands: "Believe what you read, teach what you believe, and practice what you teach." Selflessness is at the heart of all Christian ministry, especially ordained ministry.

Saint Peter consecrating the Seven Deacons (Saint Stephen is shown kneeling), by Fra Angelico, in Niccoline Chapel, 1447

Through ordination one receives the sacramental grace necessary to serve like Christ. Just as there are uncommitted, half-hearted, and even bad priests, there are those kinds of deacons as well. Jesus Christ is the model deacon. When He told the twelve, "I am among you as the one who serves," what He said, when translated more literally, is, "I am among you as the deacon" (see Luke 22:27).

I think the best way to end this is with what might be called the magna carta of the renewed diaconate, the restoration of which as a permanent office was called for by the Second Vatican Council and realized a few years later. It is the section twenty-nine of the Council's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium. I am going to italicize and embolden parts that I feel need to be much better grasped by everyone, including deacons:

At a lower level of the hierarchy are deacons, upon whom hands are imposed "not unto the priesthood, but unto a ministry of service." For strengthened by sacramental grace, in communion with the bishop and his group of priests they serve in the diaconate of the liturgy, of the word, and of charity to the people of God. It is the duty of the deacon, according as it shall have been assigned to him by competent authority, to administer baptism solemnly, to be custodian and dispenser of the Eucharist [an ordinary minister of Holy Communion], to assist at and bless marriages in the name of the Church, to bring Viaticum to the dying, to read the Sacred Scripture to the faithful, to instruct and exhort the people, to preside over the worship and prayer of the faithful, to administer sacramentals, to officiate at funeral and burial services. Dedicated to duties of charity and of administration, let deacons be mindful of the admonition of Blessed Polycarp: "Be merciful, diligent, walking according to the truth of the Lord, who became the servant of all."

Since these duties, so very necessary to the life of the Church, can be fulfilled only with difficulty in many regions in accordance with the discipline of the Latin Church as it exists today, the diaconate can in the future be restored as a proper and permanent rank of the hierarchy. It pertains to the competent territorial bodies of bishops, of one kind or another, with the approval of the Supreme Pontiff, to decide whether and where it is opportune for such deacons to be established for the care of souls. With the consent of the Roman Pontiff, this diaconate can, in the future, be conferred upon men of more mature age, even upon those living in the married state. It may also be conferred upon suitable young men, for whom the law of celibacy must remain intact.

Belated Short Reflection for Good Shepherd Sunday

Each year, the Fourth Sunday of Easter is observed as Good Shepherd Sunday. Understandably, this Sunday often used to encourage young men to consider whether God might be calling them to be priests. All priests, but especially those who serve parishes as pastors, are shepherds. "Pastor" is more or less synonymous with "shepherd."

While all pastors and all priests (and all bishops) should strive to be good shepherds, there is only one Good Shepherd: Jesus Christ. This realization is vital, critical, essential for God's people as a whole and for each of us individually, including those who serve as shepherds. One of the beauties of being Catholic is that a parish is not built on the charisma of single priest, thus running the risk of collapsing when he is transferred, retires, or leaves for some other reason. Don't get me wrong there are some wonderfully charismatic priests. There are also some manipulatively charismatic priests.

I thank the Lord for the many steady, stable, well-adjusted, emotionally mature priests who take their calling seriously by engaging in their ministry diligently. I know one of the struggles of many such priests after they retire is how quickly and completely they seem to be forgotten by those they served so wholeheartedly. Yet, their consolation, too, the spiritually mature ones know, comes from the Good Shepherd. Whether we want to face it or not, contemporary U.S. culture, when it comes to relationships of virtually any kind, is very transactional.

One of the oldest representations of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, made around 300 AD., original painted in Crypt of Lucina, Rome

When a priest isn't a good shepherd, perhaps a half-hearted, not fully committed, or even negligent one, this shouldn't cause you to lose faith. Go ahead and be disappointed, discouraged, even a bit dismayed. Also, deeply appropriate the first verse of Psalm 23: "The LORD is my shepherd; there is nothing I lack." Now, for a time, you may lack a good shepherd. But you always have the Good Shepherd. Lean into Him. Draw close to Him. Let Him draw you close. In terms of faith, this is a matter of life and death!

Despite everything that's happened over the past quarter century, there still remain wolves disguised, not as sheep, but as shepherds. Maybe the better term, being a lifelong Westerner, is there are rustlers, or, to quote Jesus, "thieves." Moreover, there are no few hirelings seeking to fleece the flock.

It is the Good Shepherd who pursues you with goodness and mercy your whole life through. He sets the banquet of the Eucharist before you. He can even do this through the ministry of a not so good shepherd. It is the Good Shepherd who brings you to lush, verdant pastures, sets you beside still waters, and who restores your soul.

"Were not our hearts burning. . .?"

Luke 24:13-35

After quite a bit of planning and some fanagaling, I have a Sunday off. Yesterday evening, after a long day of teaching, I was able to quietly attend a Vigil Mass at another parish. Today is my first day off since the week before Holy Week.

I was sorely tempted to just let it go today. But I felt impelled (not compelled, had that been the case, I would've resisted), to share a concentrated take on today's Gospel reading: The Road to Emmaus. I never really fully grasped the centrality of the Emmaus pericope until I read Louis-Marie Chauvet's The Sacraments: The Word of God at the Mercy of the Body.

Saint Luke's pericope in which the inspired author conveys the story of what happened to Cleopas and companion (perhaps his wife?) as they made their way back home to their village after Jesus' passion and death is simply amazing. Cleopas and companion ("companion" is literally someone with whom you share bread) had even heard news of some women, fellow disciples of Jesus, seeing angels who they said told them that Jesus rose from the dead.

But all these two disappointed disciples saw after hearing these reports was an empty tomb. What does an empty tomb prove? Did those women really encounter angels?

Saint Luke's telling of what happened on the way to and then in Emmaus contains an inspired and comprehensive Eucharistic theology as well as a fairly well sketched out liturgical theology, which even includes a dismissal. The dismissal occurs when, having recognized the Risen Lord in the breaking of bread, which happened after a very extended liturgy of word (like the one at the Paschal Vigil), they rush the seven miles back to Jerusalem, despite it now being nightime, to tell the others what they had seen and heard and how their hearts were burning.

The story of the road to Emmaus tells the story of the Word becoming flesh and how the Word still becomes flesh. Through the Eucharist, the flesh the Word now takes is your flesh, my flesh. When we say the Church is the Body of Christ, we are not using an analogy. We are describing reality.

The mystery of life in Christ is that Christ can live in you (Colossians 1:27). Moreover, Christ desires not only to live in but through you and through me. You and I, along with everyone who else who partakes of Christ's Body and Blood, are united in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit by partaking of the one bread and the one cup (okay, chalice). Given to us by the Lord Himself, the Church makes the Eucharist and the Eucharist, in turn, makes the Church the Body of Christ.

Let's be honest, the only convincing evidence that the bread and wine are transformed (transubstantiated) into Christ's Body and Blood are the lives of those of us who eat and drink. Conversely, the best argument against this reality are the lives of those of us who partake. In the Eucharist, something really profound is happening, ex opere operato (i.e., whether you experience it or not).

While it is imporant and even necessary, don't remain content with minimalism, with hanging your hat on the peg of ex opere operato. Your participation, my participation, should be intentional. In the most important sense, this is what it means to actively participate.

For some reason, this Easter season, I feel impelled to emphasize that Jesus didn't just rise from the tomb. He is risen, denoting the on-going nature of His resurrection. Resurrection isn't merely something to be believed but something/Someone to be experienced in the way Cleopas and his companion did. Resurrection is not just a way of life, a manner of living, but a mode of being.

What should happen during the Eucharist should also resound beyond Mass and outside the walls of the Church. Quite simply, worship that doesn't lead to self-giving service isn't Christian worship. And so, "Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord. Alleluia." "Go in peace, glorfying the Lord by your life. Alleluia" (we won't use the double "Alleluia" again until the dismissal at Pentecost).

"Though there's pain in the offering"

Here we are, the last Friday of Lent. This holy season concludes, as it does each year, with Evening Prayer next Thursday. Evening Prayer on Holy Thursday ushers in the shortest of liturgical seasons: the Sacred Triduum.

The Sacred Triduum constiutes something like our Christian high holy days. It might be more accurate to say "our Christian high holy day." Holy Thursday's Mass of the Lord's Supper has no concluding rites, no dismissal. Instead, we process with the Blessed Sacrament to the chapel of repose. Good Friday has no introductory rites, but begins with the Collect. Good Friday, too, ends without a dismissal. We're not dismissed until the end of the great Paschal Vigil, which both brings the Sacred Triduum to an end and inagurates the season of Easter.

All Catholics really should make an to participate in the entire Triduum. Do it once and you will want to keep doing it.

For me, it's been an eventful year so far and an vibrant Lent. About halfway through, I began working for the Church full-time, which event was more than a year in the making. To say that I am feeling a bit overwhelmed at present would be to put it mildly. Nonetheless, I remain excited and forward looking. It's an opportunity to extend my Lenten discipline of being gentle with myself!

Earlier this week, I had a beautiful experience during my morning walk. It was a gorgeous spring day. I decided to listen to some glory and praise music, as it matched my mood and weather. As I noted in my homily last Sunday, we don't observe Lent, or even Good Friday, pretending that Christ isn't risen from the dead. That level of pretense belies Christian realism. Besides, as Richard Foster noted in his seminal work, Celebration of Discipline, "Joy is the keynote of all the Disciplines" Just as "happiness," at least as it is popularly understood, shouldn't be confused eudaimonia, neither should it be mistaken for joy. Happiness is fleeting. Joy abides. Happiness is superficial. Joy runs deep.

Anyway, our traditio is then-Sister Cristina Scuccia with an acoustic version (suitable for its simplicity) of "Blessed Be Your Name." In or around 2022, Cristina left religious life after 15 years. She's emphatic that the time she spent as an Ursiline sister were "splendid years." She is also insistent that she has not abandoned the faith. While we don't use the "A-word" during Lent, we do praise Jesus Christ always and everywhere!

What do with the time left in Lent?

What follows is my reflection for the diocesan staff's weekly Lenten gathering for Morning Prayer, which takes place on Wednesdays of Lent. There are still a few weeks left of this holy season. Reflecting on what it means to be a Christian, what it means to be baptized, is really important.

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Reading: Deuteronomy 7:6.8-9

As I was thinking about preparing for this morning, forgetting it was Lent, I wondered if today’s reading was really the same as that for last Wednesday and the Wednesday before that. After all, the book is Deuteronomy, means “second” telling not fourth telling.

During Lent, the readings for Morning and Evening Prayer are repetitive. By means of this repetition, the Church tries to focus on what really matters. As with the Israelites’ forty-year trek through and all around the Sinai Peninsula, Lent is meant to be a journey through the dry desert of our souls, in which, as The Police sang, “I always play the starring role.”

Our annual journey culminates at the baptismal font. This is not only true for the Elect, but for all the baptized. Lent, which means springtime in old English, is the time we are given each year to prepare for the renewal of our baptismal promises. It is a time for new life.

Baptism is our crossing of the Red Sea as well as our crossing of the Jordan into the Promised Land. It is the womb from which we are reborn and tomb from which we arise with Christ to live a new life. Baptism is our deliverance from slavery to sin and death, enabling us to live in the glorious freedom of the children of God.

Holy baptism, not holy orders, is the fundamental sacrament of the Christian life. Those who are ordained should always remember, as we vest for liturgical celebrations, that the alb is a baptismal garment. Everything else goes on top of the alb: stole, chasuble, dalmatic, cope. "Every baptized person," Pope Leo noted in today's Wednesday audience, "is to bear consistent witness to Christ.”

It is through baptism into Christ that the Lord, our God, who is ever faithful, includes you in his merciful covenant. And so, over these final few weeks of Lent, prepare to renew this covenant, which is your covenant with the living God. How do I do this, you might ask?

Before I answer, it’s important to realize that God loves you and there’s nothing you can do about it. God’s love is the rock on which we can firmly stand. So, the question is, what might I love more than I love God? All sin is a matter of not loving God, “whom,” we acknowledge in the Act of Contrition, “I should love above all things.”

Traditionally, those things we love more than God (or neighbor) are called “disordered attachments.” Lent is the time to identify and, with God’s help, strive to be delivered from them. And so, let this Lent be a time of deliverance. Let God bring you out of Egypt by His strong arm and ransom you from Pharoah.

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A fair amount of the time, on Fridays, I reflect on time. Taking my cue from Trevor Hudson, I like to refer to Lent as "a time-gift." So, our traditio for this Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent is from Jesus and Mary Chain's still very good Darklands album: "On the Wall."

"But for now we live on these streets"

Friday the thirteenth!!! As noted in my last post, I am not supertitious. Superstition is really quite a pagan disposition toward reality, not a Christian one.

Is thirteen considered unlucky because that is how many steps to the gallows or are there thirteen steps to the gallows because that number is unlucky?

As I have noted a few times over this Lenten season, mortality is a reality of which one must remain mindful. This is the point of the "Remember you are dust..." exhortation on Ash Wednesday. After a certain age, however, one is frequently reminded. Viewed strictly in the horizontal plane, we're all making our way to the gallows.

Even for someone who believes in and has hope for eternal life, death remains the horizon over which it is impossible to see. Let's be honest, even as people of faith, apart from resurrection, we don't really know what happens after we die. We especially don't know what we will experience between death and resurrection. Since we don't believe that we are souls trapped in bodies, a thoroughly Gnostic notion, what might it be like to be a disembodied soul?

I am not going to attempt to answer that question.

Momento mori- Remember death. Not only will your mortal life not last forever, it is very short. This is true even if you live to be 100!

Life's shortness should cause everyone to ponder life's meaning. This begins with the uncomfortable question, Does life have meaning? Having a meaning is what gives life purpose. Purpose gives direction. Being Christian is not just a way of life but a mode of being. Our direction is following Christ.

Just as practicing Christians tend to recoil at "I'm spiritual but not religious," Catholics are equally dismissive of the dichotomy between religion and relationship made by Evangelicals. But for a Christian, religion (i.e., right worship) requires relationship. Hence, it is the Catholic both/and. If it's just religious observance, then you are only going through the motions. One shouldn't hold onto either horn of a false dilemma. And, believe it or not, it isn't always better to go through the motions.

There are no small number of people who were raised Catholic, became Evangelicals, and returned to the Church. Most will tell you that detour was an important part of following Christ. I think this observation is important because Lent isn't about being more religious for a concentrated period of time. It's about opening yourself up to God's grace, seeking a deeper relationship with Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit.

While I would never dissuade someone from adhering to the five precepts of the Church and, in fact always urge them to do so, I would say that sometimes, maybe especially during Lent, religious observance can be a dam rather than a channel of divine grace. I don't mind repeating this Friday that what the Lord is helping me with during this holy season is being more gentle with myself and extending that gentleness to others.

Our traditio for this Friday of the Third Week of Lent is Rick Elias' "A Man of No Reputation," which was recorded on The Jesus Record. It was a song slated to come out an album Rich Mullins was working on at the time of his death. Instead, it came out on a posthumous record.

The lyrics from this song I used as the title for this post reminded me of Madeleine Delbrêl's "We, the Ordinary People of the Streets." In this piece she insisted:

We, the ordinary people of the streets, believe with all our might that this street, this world, where God has placed us, is our place of holiness

Quenching Christ's thirst

Gospel: John 4:5-42

The major theme of today's readings is thirst. Almost without fail, our focus tends to be on how much or how little we thirst for God. If you're not as thirsty as the world's most interesting man says you should be, then something is wrong. This is, of course is true. Who doesn't long for more? But it's also something you can't fix on your own.

If one takes the lovely Preface for the Eucharistic Prayer specfic to this passage from Saint John's Gospel, which is geared toward Christian initiation, what it tells you is that Christ thirsts for you. Not only is the liturgy the primary place for encountering Sacred Scripture, it is also prima theologia.

Let's step back, or rather, step forward, moving from the fourth chapter of Saint John's Gospel to the nineteenth. It is here that Jesus says, as He hangs dying on the cross, "I thirst" (John 19:28). This phrase was adopted by Saint Teresa of Calcutta as much more than a motto. These words constitute the foundation for the mission of the Missionaries of Charity. "I thirst" is also the Fifth of the Lord's Seven Last Words.

You can't "get" faith. No one can give you faith. You can't give faith to anyone. As a theological virtue, faith is a gift from God.

This Preface notes that prior to His encounter with this woman at Jacob's well, Jesus "had already created the gift of faith within her." Continuing, we hear that "so ardently did he thirst for her faith, that he kindled in her the fire of divine of love." To ardently thirst for her faith, which created in her, is a way of saying He ardently thirsted for her.

How the Lord kindled the fire of divine love in this Samaritan woman unfolds over the thirty-eight verses from the fourth chapter of the Gospel According to Saint John that comprise our Gospel for today. He lit this flame by gently pointing out how unsuccessful she had been at finding love. The fact she was then with someone, even if in an illicit arrangement, shows she still hadn't given up.

There is no shame in wanting to be loved and to love. This desire constitutes our humanity. This is why, at some point or another, love makes fools of nearly all of us.

At its deepest level, the Good News is that you are always already loved with an unquenchable, unfathomable love. "God," after all, "is love" (1 John 4:8.16). "In this is love," we read elsewhere in the Johannine corpus, "not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins" (1 John 4:10). God loves you and there's nothing you can do about it!

So, before you ever thirst for Him, the Lord thirsts for you. Without His thirst for you, you couldn't thirst for Him. And He can't help but thirst for you.

To quote the usually neglected first part of the sentence that contains Saint Augustine's massively overused phrase, found near the beginning his Confessions: "You have stirred in us the desire to praise you, for you have made us for yourself. . ." (Book I, Chapter 1).

Saint Saturus

Even though it is an optional memorial on the Roman calendar, each year I personally observe the Memorial of Saints Perpetua & Felicity during my celebration of the Liturgy of the Hours. I do so especially by praying the Office of Readings. While none of these are the second reading for the Office of Readings for this liturgical memorial, every year I read one of Saint Augustine's sermons for this observance of the martrydom of his fellow North African Christians (Sermons 280-282).

As to the second reading for the Office of readings for today's memorial, I was struck today by an aspect of this passage "From the story of the death of the holy martyrs of Carthage" that had never really hit me before, focused as I was on the heroic virtue shown by Perpetua. It has to do with the martyr Saturus, who is certainly Saint Saturus.

Entering the arena, by Fyodor Bronnikov, 1869

Serving at the colisieum on the day of this gruesome spectacle, was the Roman soldier Pudens. Apparently, Pudens, too, was a Christian. After being savaged by the hungry leopard who was set upon them, Saturus told Pudens not be frightened by what he was witnessing but to let his faith be strengthened by these things.

Saturus then asked Pudens to hand him "the little ring" Pudens was wearing on one of his fingers. Pudens did so, "After soaking [the ring] in his wound," Saturus returned it to the soldier "as a keepsake." The soldier was gifted a relic.

Saturus, who this account tells us was the first to die, is last seen helping a badly wounded Perpetua. While I admit to being more than a little biased in this regard, Saturus' words and actions strike me as more than a little diaconal.

What follows is an addendum to my original post:

Thinking about Pudens watching his sisters and brothers being devoured by a feral, hungry leopard while serving the power subjecting them to this horrific death, kind of epitomizes cognitive dissonance. Many Christians today find themselves in a predicament similar to that this soldier serving the empire.

What unfolds before this Christian Roman soldier's eyes is nothing less than the kingdom of God, as the Lord Himself taught and lived it, versus the kingdoms of this world. In worldly, existential, terms, winning for Christians often looks like losing- "if you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!"

But, Saturus speaks words of hope to his brother who is working on behalf of the power putting him to such a gruesome death while giving him a bloody keepsake to strengthen him. One wonders, strengthen him for what?

I know I am dust, but that isn't all

In my homily for Ash Wednesday, I noted that I preferred the "Repent and believe in the Gospel" formula to the more traditional "Remember you are dust and to dust you will return" one. Both, of course, are perfectly fine. My rationale for my personal preference was that I don't need to come to Church to be reminded of my mortality because I am reminded of it all the time.

Well, on Wednesday morning my father-in-law died. This was not unexpected. He had been under hospice care since right after the New Year. Thankfully, my wife and her brother (his only two children) made it to Ohio in time to see their Dad before he passed.

I do need to be reminded of my hope: Jesus Christ. He is the Gospel. He is the Good News. Above all, He is my friend and Companion, without whom my life would like both meaning and purpose. And so, I also have to be reminded of my on-going need to repent. To do whatever I must do and forsake whatever I must forsake to be more and more transformed into His image.

Speaking of life (and death) events that remind me of my mortality, I retired from my career of 30 years. Yesterday was my first day of that retirement (I don't officially retire until the end of next week, but I am on leave until then). It is gratifying. As noted ad nauseum here on my little "blogspot page," I am moving to a different full-time job(s). But yet another reminder of the transitory nature of this life.

Way back in my mid-20s I could fit everything I owned, minus some really cheap pressboard bedroom furniture, in my VW Rabbit Wolfsburg Edition. When things were stressful (I was a full-time student working part-time and serving the Reserve), my escape fantasy was loading everything up in my car and relocating to some random place to begin again. In all honesty, while I am glad I persevered and did not flee (I have been immensely lucky and blessed in all aspects of my life), I sometimes pine for the simplicity of those days.

But you can't live your life in reverse or live it worrying about what can happen in the future. Hence, the beauty of the title of de Cassuade's spiritual classic: The Sacrament of the Present Moment. Remember, a sacrament is a visible and tangible sign of Christ's presence in and for the world. He is (t)here every moment. As the Christian Brothers say at the beginning of each meeting, class, etc.- "Let us remember that we are in the holy presence of God."

At root, this is what Lent is about. Of course, this consists of eliminating those things that cloud my perception, making me unable to experience God's holy presence. It is also why the Examen is so important.

So, while on the subject of cars, I recently ran across a video of Gary Numan performing his '80s hit, "Cars," live with NIN way back in 2009. For a long time, Numan kind of hated his most popular song. Eventually, he reconciled and embraced it. This performance is simply great:

This is the last post for February.

A very short take

Readings: Isaiah 58:7-10; Psalm 112:4-9; 1 Corinthians 2:1-5; Matthew 5:13-16

What Saint Paul is driving at in our reading from his First Letter the Corinthians is that the power of God isn't made known through the luminous demonstration of one's gifts and abilities, even though those are bestowed on us by God. Rather, God's power, manifested by the Holy Spirit, mostly happens through our weakness.

Something easy to glance over in the Incarnation of God's Son but made clear in the kenotic hymn is Jesus' vulnerability. In the Eucharist He makes Himself more vulnerable still. To genuinely love someone, not merely romantically but in that way, is to take a risk. Making yourself vulnerable is just a different way of saying "to take a risk." Embracing a certain degree of vulnerability is what it means to know Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.

As for the rest, stay salty and be lit.

But what does that mean? In answer, I urge you to revisit last week's Gospel, which consisted of the Beatitudes (See Matthew 5:1-12). Then, to complete the answer, see today's first reading from Isaiah. Sometimes short is simple and simple is good. It's easy to oversimplify things and it's also easy to over complicate things.

Blessings at the start of new week. Stay salty, be lit, different from getting lit! A fair reminder on Super Bowl Sunday, no?