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.

God loves you and calls you according to his purposes

Romans 8:28-30

Once again, this week, I want to focus on the so-called "epistle reading." And, once again, I do so for two reasons. First, this Gospel reading requires more work than I want to do. Second, being likely the most important book of the New Testament, apart from the Gospels, Saint Paul's Letter to the Romans is worthy of our attention.

What follows is clearly not a homily or even a sermon. It is a short and necessarily overly simplified, at least in some aspects, theological reflection.

In the Sunday lectionary for Ordinary Time, the Church seeks especially to harmonize the Old Testament, or first, reading with the Gospel. This sometimes has the effect of the second, or epistle, reading standing off in the corner. While this is not always the case, during the long stretch of Ordinary Time when we read semi-continuously through whichever synoptic Gospel (i.e., Matthew, Mark, Luke) we're reading that year (this year, Matthew), it is usually how it works out.

Today, I am not even going to look at the entire passage from Romans, which consists of just 3 verses. I'm only going to consider verse 28. It is a verse that gets cited a lot and not always in the best way. It often becomes a platitude, an unhelpful dismissal.

It's easy to forget the revelatory nature of Protestant theologian Karl Barth's concept of universal election. Coming from a reformed and Calvinistic theological perspective, Barth was very familiar with the concept that Paul sets forth in this passage: predestination.

Hyper-Calvinism espouses a doctrine usually denoted as "double predestination." This refers to the belief that God predestines some for salvation and others to damnation. It is a form of theological determinism, one in which freedom, in the end, plays no part. This hearkens back to the Old Testament connundrum about the nature of Israel's chosenness.

For Catholics, this became apparent when the current typical edition of the Missale Romanum (editio typica tertia), promulgated in 2002, began to be translated into the vernacular languages. The third English edition of the Roman Missal came into use in 2011. Yes, it took nine years to translate this vitally important sacred text!

How this issue became visible was through a directive issued by Pope Benedict XVI in 2006, roughly halfway through the translation process, that qui pro vobis et pro multis effundetur in remissionem peccatorum, is accurately translated from Latin and from the Greek of the biblical text as "which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins." Pro multis in Latin accurately translates as "for many" in English.

The above words constitute part of the institution narrative for the various Eucharistic Prayers. With these words, the Lord refers to his Precious Blood poured out for our salvation. In the previous edition of the English translation of the Roman Missal, pro multis was translated as "for all."

This brings us back to Barth's universal election. While it's died down a little, over the past several years there has been widespread discussion about Christian universalism. Universalism is the idea that, in the end, all will be saved. I don't believe any one will be saved against his will. It seems odd to me to replace one deterministic idea with another that also holds that freedom plays no role. Even so, I realize human freedom is not absolute nor is it unconditioned- a discussion for another day. At the end, no one will be forced to love Big Brother (i.e., God).

Universal election basically insists that all are called to salvation. Yet perhaps not everyone will heed God's call, his invitation. This brings me, inevitably, to Von Balthasar's controversial conclusion (Hans Urs had many such), set forth in his work Dare We Hope That All Men be Saved?: With a Short Discourse on Hell, that while Catholics are dogmatically committed to believe in hell, we should hope and pray that it is empty.

One could point to the witness of the mystical experiences of many saints who insist, based on their private revelations (which need not be held de fide), that hell is not empty. Of course, Dante's Inferno still informs our religious imagination about what hell might be like. C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce places before the reader an alternate version. As for me, I content to let God be the Judge.

This brings me to a consideration of Romans 8:28. Let's take this text in reverse order. All that I wrote above is in the service of showing that you are called according to God's purpose. God's purpose, to quote N.T. Wright, "is the coming together of heaven and earth." Stated differently, God's purpose is to reconcile everyone and everything to himself in Christ. God's cosmic purpose includes you!

The question, therefore, is not "Does God love me?" God loves you, and there's nothing you can do about it. Instead, the question is always "Do I love God?" Being real, even those of us who love God don't love him as we ought or as much as we should. Yet, I really do love God, even if rarely with my entire being. This manifests in my failure to love my neighbor as much as I love myself.

Let's face it, as Paul is surely alluding to here, God's love, his care, his concern tend to be called into question when we experience suffering, hardships, setbacks, disappointments, attacks, etc. If you're anything like me (I pray that you are not), most of the time I chafe at the idea that difficulties are for my good. The idea, taken from what he dubbed "the military school of life," that "what does not kill me makes me stronger" originates from Nietzsche, that great opponent of Christianity, (Friedrich Nietzsche Twilight of the Idols. Aphorism #8. Trans. Anthony M. Ludovici).

Getting back to Christ shedding his blood for you, what kills you, helps you die to self, is a death worth dying. It was Nietzsche who also noted, “only where there are graves are there resurrections" (Thus Spoke Zarathustra. XXIV. Second Part, “The Priests.” Trans. Thomas Common).

What matters is that Christ is with you in the violent storm. He walks beside you through the valley of the shadow of death. Like Lazarus, he calls you forth from the tomb.

Since I've invoked Eucharistic Prayers, I'll end with this from Eucharistic Prayer for Use in Masses for Various Needs III (while an inelegant title, it's one my pastor uses a lot and one that resonates deeply with me, corresponding to my heart through my experience)

You are indeed Holy and to be glorified, O God,
who love the human race
and who always walk with us on the journey of life

"Use it any way you will"

My longtime leitmotif of the Καθολικός διάκονος Friday traditio is the fleeting nature of time. "Now" is just the intersection of the past and the future. Because now is super-fleeting, I am never at ease with the lazy exhortation to "live in the now."

Even living in the moment is problematic for me as a "life hack." You really have no choice but to live in the moment. My life unfolds moment to moment. Guess what? Every moment isn't and can't be all you want it to be. You see, there's something called reality.

In any case, today I had a wonderful moment. It was a moment that I can best describe as coming back to myself. Speaking of reality, as both of my readers know, 2026 thus far for me has been a steep climb.

Honestly, it's been a gift. I've really had to lean into God's unfailing and unconditional love for me. What happened today, the culmination of something that's slowly been happening over this week, is that I regained some self-confidence.

Over this year, I have been using a wonderful spiritual resource. It's book of daily reflections entitled An Ignatian Book of Days, edited by Jim Manney. More days than not, the daily reflection has hit me where I'm at, especially on many difficult days. Of course, on those days, I am more open, better disposed to listening with the ear of my heart.

Especially on a number of tough days, the reflections have not only been germane but also provocative. The acid test of spiritual advice or counsel is whether it holds up when things aren't going well. Let's face it, in the realm of spiritual counsel there is a lot of bullshit.

For example, this past Tuesday there was a reflection from an article by Mary Craig: "Suffering- Our Human Situation." The reflection ends with this suggested prayer:

For what it's worth, take it, God, and use it.
Use it to make me grow in compassion.
Use it any way you will

This morning, a few days later, I felt a great physical release. It was very real, very reassuring.

It's possible to care too little. It's also possible to care too much. I need to strive to better cultivate what Saint Ignatius called indiferencia. This is not apathy. Instead, it is the ability to let go of what does not help me. Having confidence in God's love is what enables me to do this. "In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins" (1 John 4:10).

Well, that's enough, especially on a day when I feel like I have nothing.

For our traditio today I am going with "War Pigs" by Black Sabbath. This version, from an Ozzy Osbourne tribute (it's been a year and a few days since his death), features an all star lineup with Post Malone singing. Note his hat. Spanish Fork is in Utah. Love it. I leave the insinuations and implications to you.

Praying as I can, trusting the Spirit

Romans 8:26-27

This week I am departing from commenting on the Gospel reading. One reason is that this week there is too much to unpack. Instead, I'm going to write about the epistle reading from Saint Paul's Letter to the Romans. The more important reason is that Romans is a very significant book among our uniquely Christian scriptures.

I'd say after the Gospels, Romans is perhaps the most significant book- it certainly is when it comes to redemption and justification, that is, soteriology. In terms of significance, Ephesians vies with Romans even as its main theme is ecclesiology.

In his Letter to the Romans, Saint Paul sets forth his most mature theology. I dare say, Romans contains what can be called a systematic theology. There are many surprising things to be found in the chapters of this letter. Don't worry, I'm not going to delve into any those, let alone all of them.

The "holy ones" to whom the apostle refers (in Greek, the hagioi, which refers both to "holy" people and things), are the baptized. Transcending time and space, what Paul writes refers to you and I! God searches our hearts, seeking to discover, to uncover, to reveal what it is we most desire. Like all divine revelation, this revelation is for us.

I think the part of this passage that tends to command the most attention is how the Spirit intercedes for us: "with inexpressible groanings." The Spirit does this because "we do not know how to pray as we ought." Too often, my prayer consists of a lot of words. This is how I sometimes wind up feeling like I'm talking to myself instead of praying.

Weeping, laughing, sighing, groaning, quietly listening, singing, just being silent are all ways of praying. Let's not forget prostrations, a prayer posture pretty much lost among Western Christian, even kneeling is now rare.

As to what I really want, what I truly desire, it's easy to be deceived. If, as Servant of God Luigi Giussani insisted, my heart is the criteria by which I judge all things, then I need to heed the warning found in Sacred Scripture, "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure" (Jeremiah 17:9 NIV).

And so, I must be ruthlessly honest. As I get older, I find myself being grateful for those things for which I prayed that did not come to pass.

Ruthless honesty, especially with myself, is very hard. And so, I am comforted to know that God searches my heart and, knowing the Holy Spirit's intentions, allows that same Spirit, the Spirit of the Father and the Son, to come to the aid of my weakness and intercede for me. This is what allows me to heed the popular spiritual axiom to pray as I can, not as I ought.

________________________________________

On an editorial note, I am taking things a little easier this month. This simply means that I am not pressuring myself. I had a post for yesterday, which I will probably post next week.

Cultivating and conserving rich soil

Matthew 13:1-23

In our Gospel this week, Jesus makes us insiders. He places us among those to whom he makes the mysteries of God's kingdom known. Especially in the liturgy, we see and hear what many prophets and righteous people who lived before Christ longed to see and hear. The liturgy is the privileged place to hear and engage with the scriptures. Like Jesus' public teaching, whether for the crowds or his closest disciples, this is a communal endeavor.

Anyone who's been around for a while has seen the dynamics Jesus describes in the Parable of the Sower play out: people who start so full of zeal and then quickly fade, people who strive to live the values of God's kingdom and who finally decide to go their own way. Faith and its practice seem to only make life more demanding and difficult, not freer and more meaningful. And the people, oh the people, don't even get me started. Many have concluded, some understandably so, that life is less complicated without Church.

Finally, there are those who through waxing and waning seasons don't just keep the faith but consistently bear witness to it. You see, being a Christian isn't about living with a constant buzz.

Being faithful, bearing fruit for God's kingdom means, to use Saint Ignatius of Loyola's terms, dealing with desolations and consolations. In reality, most of life is lived somewhere between the peaks and valleys of existence. Reading the Gospels, which together constitute the heart of Sacred Scripture, show that Jesus' own life bears this out.

Especially as I grow longer in the tooth, there are sayings, phrases, words that come to take on more and more meaning. One such phrase was coined by the late Eugene Peterson, who described Christian discipleship as "a long obedience in the same direction." To bear fruit, a plant must endure the vissicitudes of weather. Where I live this year we had late freezes and now dry heat. Yet, I still see crops growing.

In this metaphor, spirituality, which I take to be the practice of spiritual disciplines, means cultivating and conserving rich soil. First among the disciplines comes prayer. To extend this a bit, in prayer, the Holy Spirit is like a gentle but steady rain during the dry months of summer.

Growing up I learned a song that we sang often: "Don't Forget to Pray." It's easy to forget or, even worse, to consciously decide not to pray. Since I am on a Saint Francis de Sales kick, I'm reminded of his exhortation to pray each day for at least half and hour, unless you're busy. If you're busy, he insisted you need to pray for an hour.

"I want this light in me to show"

Fridays have become, to use a word I don't like very much, a little "triggering" for me. But then, 2026 has not been a great year, as both my of readers know. Nonetheless, with the aid and support of a very good spiritual director, I feel alright about how, by the grace of God, I have handled things, generally speaking.

For me, the hardest of the works of mercy to perform is one of the spiritual works: bearing wrongs patiently. If you don't like getting all Catholic, this is basically the scriptural injunction not to return evil for evil, forsaking an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth (see 1 Peter 3:9- for one example). It means working to forgive and laying your anger, hurt, discouragement at the foot of the cross.

Both with my discernment to make a major life change a few years earlier than planned and dealing with the things that have happened since actually making the change, the Lord has sought to draw me closer to him. My own take on evangelism, which I've shared many times, is being able to tell others what difference knowing Jesus Christ makes in the nitty-gritty of your own life.

It's easy when talking about the Holy Spirit to glomb onto signs and wonders. I am not a cessionsationist, far from it. In being something of a traditional-leaning charismatic, I take a pretty critical approach to signs and wonders. I make a distinction between being charismatic and full-blown pentecostal. What is usually overlooked when talking about the Holy Spirit are the fruits of the Spirit.

The fruits of Spirit are set forth very clearly by Saint Paul in his Letter to the Galatians. The pneumatology of Galatians is a topic worthy of scriptural deep-dive. According to the apostle, "the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control" (Gal 5:22-23). A life that bears these fruits is life in the Spirit. It is a life of grace, not of works.

“If, when stung by slander or ill-nature, we wax proud and swell with anger," Saint Francis de Sales insisted in his spiritual classic Introduction to the Devout Life, "it is a proof that our gentleness and humility are unreal, and mere artificial show."

Living in the Spirit requires you to let God work first in you and then through you. There is a supernatural change that believers need to experience. Usually, this change is slow and not a straight line. This where patience comes in. You need to be patient with God, with other, and with yourself. Saint Francis de Sales, on whose Memorial I was ordained, also exhorted: "Be patient with everyone, but above all with yourself … do not be disheartened by your imperfections, but always rise up with fresh courage."

Living my faith is challenging, even provocative, at times. It is especially during these times that I can't excuse myself with that ominous disjunction "but." It's easy to follow Jesus when the ground is level and smooth. It becomes more difficult when the trail becomes steeper and perhaps even a bit rocky. I remain grateful for penitential Fridays. It gives me a day each week examine my heart, my life, my conscience.

Anyway, lately I have been thinking about my faith during my younger years, in the years after really coming to the Lord, giving myself to him. Looking back, things almost always seem simpler. In addition to being a bit charismatic, I am very evangelical!

To honor memories of those simpler, more enthusisatic days, our Friday traditio for this week is the original lineup of the Newsboys, the Christian garage band from Down Under, perform the title song of their 1992 album Not Ashamed at the sadly now defunct Cornerstone fesitval in 1993.

Rest in the Lord

Readings: Zechariah 9:9-10; Psalm 145:1-2.9-11.13-14; Romans 8:9.11-13; Matthew 11:25-30

"See, your king shall come to you; a just savior is he."¹ "The LORD is gracious and merciful."² "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest."³

Because the Lord is gracious and full of mercy, he comes to save us, to give himself "the just" savior for us, "the unjust," who need to be saved.⁴

We burden ourselves with so many things. We not only lay heavy burdens on ourselves but we lay them on others too. This is even true when comes to our spiritual/religious lives.

As Catholics, it may well be the case that this is especially true of us. There are rules to keep, laws to follow, and sin when rules are broken and laws ignored. Later on in Saint Matthew's Gospel, speaking about the Pharisees, Jesus says, "They tie up heavy burdens [hard to carry] and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they will not lift a finger to move them."⁵

While it's great to witness more people coming into the Church, it's easy to lose sight of the reality that more people are still leaving than coming in. Why? There is probably no single reason. But certainly one reason is that religion easily becomes neurotic, demanding, impossible. This lies at the heart of a lot of deconstruction narratives.

Let's face it, life is often difficult. Because he is gracious and merciful, Jesus offers us his easy yoke in exchange for our heavy one. He asks you lay down your heavy burdens and take up his light yoke, one that is much easier to carry.

Jesus' own yoke was the cross. The weight of the cross, which doesn't only refer to the heavy wood but to our burdens that he took upon himself, is the Lord's yoke. Its weight was crushing. While he urges us to take up our crosses, he helps us carry them, making them lighter, even light.

You may have heard the phrase "a yoke of oxen." A yoke is a wooden harness of sorts, slipped over the head of at least two oxen so that together they can pull something heavy. Both the yoke and what the animals pull are heavy, requiring a lot of energy and labor.

Our Lord carried your heavy burden so you don't have to. He didn't do this because you deserve it. Rather, he did it because you don't. He did it because he loves you; mind boggling.

Most if not all of us have experienced life's burdens. I am not writing here about the burden of those things we do wrong, which are burdensome. I write about all of life's burdens: disappointments, illness, disllusionment, job worries, financial pressures, concerns for children, self-doubt, the death of a loved one, etc.

What is it the Lord teaches the one who seeks to learn from him? First and foremost, it is to trust him, to place your worries, cares, that is, your burdens before him. This requires meekness and humility. It also requires honesty with yourself and with him.

Elsewhere, scripture urges us to humble ourselves under the mighty hand of God, which is not meant to be threatening but rather ressuring us that it is God who is in control. And so, the passage continues, "Cast all your worries upon him because he cares for you."⁶

I am currently reading through Scott Sauls' book The Mercy King. While I am reading it as part of my preparation for a retreat I am leading this fall, I am finding it very personally beneficial. "Jesus," Sauls notes when writing on this passage from Matthew, "doesn't approach us as a harsh taskmaster, pointing out flaws or keeping score." Rather, he issues each one of us a deeply personal invitation.⁷

Sauls rightly points to the fact that at the heart of the Lord's invitation are three words (it is also three words in the original Greek): "Come to me."⁸ Jesus doesn't say, Come and wow me with your intelligence, creativity, diligence, or even any virtue you've maybe acquired. No. He says, Come to me just as you are, the more tired the better, and I will give you rest.

________________________________________________________

For some reason, this summer I am really inclined to stick with the basics of the Gospel. My focus is on the great love the Father has lavished on us in Christ Jesus. It is the Holy Spirit who pours God's love (which is nothing other than God, who is love) into our hearts.⁹ This is the sure foundation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. You can't earn this. You can only respond in love with thanksgiving.

---

1 Zechariah 9:9.^↩
2 Psalm 145.8.^↩
3 Matthew 11:28.^↩
4 1 Peter 3:18.^↩
5 Matthew 23:4.^↩
6 1 Peter 5:6-7.^↩
7 Scott Sauls. The King of Mercy: How the Kindness of Jesus Heals Your Sin, Shame, and Weakness, page 123.^↩
8 Ibid.^↩
9 Romans 5:5; 1 John 4:8.16.^↩