Our Lady of Guadalupe

Readings: Rev 11:19a.12:1-6a; Judith 13:18-19; Luke 1:39-47

¡Hoy es un gran día de celebración para todos los cristianos, incluso gringos, como yo! En la Basílica de San Pedro, el papa León celebró la misa en honor a Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.

En su homilía, el Papa León dijo que le pidió a la Santísima Virgen «que enseñe a las naciones que quieren ser sus hijos a no dividir el mundo en bandos irreconciliables, a no permitir que el odio marque su historia ni que las mentiras escriban su memoria».

Today is a great day of celebration for all Christians! At St. Peter's Basilica, Pope Leo celebrated Mass in honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

In his homily, Pope Leo said he asked the Blessed Virgin “to teach the nations that want to be her children not to divide the world into irreconcilable factions, not to allow hatred to mark their history, nor lies to write their memory.”

Celebrar la festividad de la Virgen de Guadalupe es recordar no solo algo bueno, sino también algo verdadero y hermoso. El tiempo de Adviento contiene muchas celebraciones marianas: la Inmaculada Concepción el lunes, Nuestra Señora de Loreto el miércoles y hoy la Virgen de Guadalupe. Como dijo Santa Teresa de Calcuta: «Sin María, no hay Jesús».

Celebrating the memorial of the Virgin of Guadalupe is to call to mind not only something good but something true and beautiful. The season of Advent contains many Marian celebrations: Immaculate Conception on Monday, Our Lady of Loreto on Wednesday, and today the Virgin of Guadalupe. As Saint Teresa of Calcutta said: "No Mary, no Jesus.

Under the title Immaculate Conception, Mary is the patroness of the United States of America and under the title Our Lady of Guadalupe, she is patroness of all the Americas and secondary patroness of our diocese. On Tuesday, the Church remembered Saint Juan Diego to whom Mary appeared.

Bajo el título de Inmaculada Concepción, María es la patrona de los Estados Unidos de América y, bajo el título de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, es la patrona de toda América y patrona secundaria de nuestra diócesis. La Iglesia recordó este martes a San Juan Diego, a quien se le apareció María.

Durante el tiempo en que fue favorecido con las apariciones de Nuestra Señora, Juan Diego era catecúmeno, miembro de lo que hoy llamamos OCIA. La primera aparición que experimentó fue mientras caminaba desde su casa hacia la misión franciscana donde recibía instrucción. Según las fuentes, la Santísima Virgen se le apareció a Juan cinco veces.

Fue en su primera aparición cuando le pidió, a través de él, que el obispo construyera una capilla en su honor. El obispo Juan Zumárraga, aunque nunca dudó seriamente del testimonio de Juan Diego, pidió una señal para autentificar lo que se le estaba contando.

During the time Juan Diego was favored with the appearances of Our Lady, he was a catechumen, a member of what we today call OCIA. The first apparition he experienced was while walking from his home to the Franciscan mission where he was receiving instruction. According to the sources, the Blessed Virgin appeared to Juan five times.

It was in her very first appearance that she requested, through him, that the bishop build a chapel in her honor. The bishop Juan Zumárraga, while never seriously doubting the witness of Juan Diego, asked for a sign to authenticate what he was being told.

During her fourth apparition Our Lady provided the sign requested by the bishop. This appearance took place under interesting circumstances. Juan Diego was determined to miss his appointment with Our Lady because his uncle had fallen ill and was in danger of death. As a result of his uncle’s illness, he set out to retrieve a priest to hear his uncle’s confession, anoint him and give him communion. In order not to be delayed by his appointed meeting with the Virgin, Juan chose another route, one that avoided the place he was to meet her.

Durante su cuarta aparición, Nuestra Señora proporcionó la señal solicitada por el obispo. Esta aparición tuvo lugar en circunstancias interesantes. Juan Diego estaba decidido a faltar a su cita con Nuestra Señora porque su tío había enfermado y se encontraba en peligro de muerte. Como consecuencia de la enfermedad de su tío, se dispuso a buscar a un sacerdote para que le confesara, le ungiera y le diera la comunión. Para no retrasarse en su cita con la Virgen, Juan eligió otro camino, uno que evitaba el lugar donde debía encontrarse con ella.

Pero ella apareció en su ruta alternativa y le preguntó adónde iba. Después de que Juan se lo explicara, la Virgen le reprendió suavemente por no haber recurrido a ella, utilizando sus palabras más famosas, las palabras que hoy están grabadas sobre la entrada principal de la Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe en la Ciudad de México: «¿No estoy yo aquí, que soy tu madre?».

But she appeared along his alternate route and asked him where he was going. After Juan explained, the Virgin gently chided him for not having had recourse to her, using her most famous words to him, the words that today are etched over the main entrance to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City: ¿No estoy yo aqui, que soy tu madre? (Am I not here, I who am your mother?).

The Blessed Virgin assured Juan Diego that his uncle was now completely healed. She then instructed him to climb a nearby hill and collect flowers growing there. Heeding her instructions, Juan found many flowers growing out of season on a rocky outcrop of the hill where normally only cactus and scrub brush grew.

Using his open mantle, or tilma, as a sack (with the ends tied around his neck) he returned to the Virgin; she re-arranged the flowers in his mantle and told him to take them to the bishop. On gaining admission to the bishop later that day, Juan Diego opened his mantle, the flowers poured to the floor, and the bishop saw that the flowers had left on the mantle an imprint of the Virgin's image which he immediately venerated. Juan’s tilma is with image of Our Lady of Guadalupe can miraculously still be seen today.

Nuestra primera lectura, tomada del último libro de la Biblia, Apocalipsis, nos brinda muchas de las imágenes que encontramos en la imagen de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. Esto nos muestra que la Santísima Virgen es quien dio a luz al hijo de Dios, quien quitó la maldición de nuestros primeros padres.

Our first reading, taken from the last book of the Bible- Revelation- gives us much of the imagery we find in the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. This shows us that the Blessed Virgin is the one who gave birth to God’s son, who took away the curse of our first parents.

In thinking of the flowers the Virgin used to imprint her beautiful image on Juan’s mantle, it’s important to note that our word “Rosary” comes from the Latin word rosarium. A rosarium is a garland of roses. It’s vitally important to pray the Rosary often, preferably daily. Offering our prayers and petitions and those of people who have asked for our prayers to God through our Blessed Mother. So, don’t ever hesitate to ask the Virgin Mary to intercede for you.

Ofreciendo nuestras oraciones y peticiones y las de las personas que han pedido nuestras oraciones a Dios a través de nuestra Madre Santísima. Así que no dudes nunca en pedirle a la Virgen María que interceda por ti y/o por los demás. Ella constantemente nos dice lo que le dijo al humilde Juan Diego hace siglos: ¿No estoy yo aqui, que soy tu madre?

Year A Second Sunday of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-2; 7-8; 12-13; 17; Romans 15:4-9; Matthew 3:1-12

The question is sometimes asked, “What is the main thrust of your preaching?” I think has to preach for quite a few years before discernible patterns emerge. My answer to this question certainly includes something like, “One of the main points of my preaching is that hope lies beyond optimism.”

In our second reading, taken from Romans, Saint Paul addresses this directly when he writes: “that by endurance and by the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.”¹ Indeed, hope can’t be developed in any other way than through endurance. While it can be said that hope is born from the labor of enduring life's ups and downs, hope arises especially by enduring life’s downs. According to theo-logic, crucifixion always precedes resurrection. As we rush toward Christmas, barely stopping to prepare ourselves, it bears noting that the wood of the manger becomes the wood of the cross.

Eugene Peterson expressed the nature of hope quite well:

When nothing we can do makes any difference and we are left standing around empty-handed and clueless, we are ready for God to create. When the conditions in which we live seem totally alien to life and salvation, we are reduced to waiting for God to do what only God can do, create ²

What is the difference between hope and optimism? Optimism is being convinced that you’ll figure it out and get everything under control and realize, if not your desired outcome, at least one that is acceptable. Hope steps in when you realize you don’t have a clue, you’ve no idea what’s going to happen, and you’re not likely to figure it out, at least not on your own.

Our first reading from Isaiah is an expression of hope. It is likely passages like this Saint Paul had in mind when he wrote that hope not only comes from endurance but through “the encouragement of the scriptures.”³ By prophesying that “on that [non-specific] day [sometime in the future] the root of Jesse… shall become a banner to the nations” and that “Nations shall seek him out and his resting place shall be glory,” the scriptures Paul references bring hope not only to Israel, whose prospects look dim in the context in which this was written, but to the whole world.⁴

In his commentary on the tenth verse of the eleventh chapter of Isaiah, Robert Alter asserts that the phrase “his resting place” is typically “used for a place of settlement that is safe from enemies.”⁵ He goes on to say that its use at the end of this passage is likely “to resonate with the spirit of the LORD that ‘shall rest’ on the ideal king.”⁶ Of course, from a Christian perspective, Jesus Christ is the ideal king whose Advent, or coming, Isaiah is predicting, for which Israel is waiting, and in whom they’ve placed their hope during this dark time.

Of course, it is the kingdom of which Jesus is the king, which, in the end, will be the only kingdom, that John the Baptist announces announce with the words: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”⁷ The word “repent” in this passage is the Greek word metanoeite. It comes from the word metanoia and means “to have a change of heart,” to change from the inside out, to be completely transformed, that is, converted.⁸

John the Bapstist Preaching, by Mattia Preti (Il Cavaliere Calabrese), ca. 1665

As we look forward to Jesus’s return at the end of time, which is something the first two weeks of Advent, extending from the end of the last liturgical year, bid us do, we are called upon to have a change of heart, to conform our hearts more to Jesus’s Sacred Heart and his Blessed Mother’s Immaculate Heart. This is why the Sacrament of Penace, or confession, is not only mentioned more but is made more available during Advent.

Beginning next Sunday, which is Gaudete Sunday, the relatively short season of Advent takes a turn, makes a pivot. We turn our focus from the “not yet” to the “already.” But between the already and the not yet is now, today. As we heard on the First Sunday of Advent- it’s later than you think!

Looking at it from the perspective of this Sunday, it’s important to point out that when Jesus came as a babe in Bethlehem, he inaugurated the kingdom of God. “Kingdom” in Greek, the word John uses in today’s Gospel, is basileia. Jesus, to use a word coined by the Church Father, Origen, is autobasileia- the kingdom-in-person. Where Christ is, there is the Kingdom.

In his work, On Prayer, Origen noted that people

who pray for the coming of the Kingdom of God pray without any doubt for the Kingdom of God that they contain in themselves, and they pray that this Kingdom might bear fruit and attain its fullness. For in every holy [person] it is God who reigns⁹

If you want God to reign in you and bring his kingdom to completion in and through you, then you must not allow sin to reign over you.¹⁰ Indeed, at Baptism, you rejected “sin so as to live in the freedom of God's children.”¹¹

The Sacrament of Penance is an extension of Baptism. What better time to be reminded of this than on the Second Sunday of Advent when, each year, we hear the words of the Baptist, the seal of the prophets, which are as relevant now as when he first proclaimed them? And so, over the remainder of this Advent prepare the Lord’s way by making your heart a straight path. Go to confession and experience for yourself God’s love and mercy.

I hope that each of us and all of us together receive that baptism “with the holy Spirit and fire.”¹² And being so transformed, strive to make God’s Kingdom a present reality, for Christ to be born in us. As the second verse of the old hymn goes:

Then cleansed be every life from sin:
make straight the way for God within,
and let us all our hearts prepare
for Christ to come and enter there¹³

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1 Romans 15:14.^↩
2 Eugene Peterson, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Conversation in Spiritual Theology, 64.^↩
3 Romans 15:14.^↩
4 Isaiah 11:10 in The Hebrew Bible: A Translation With Commentary: The Prophets. Trans. Robert Alter, 660^↩
5 Ibid.^↩
6 Ibid.^↩
7 Matthew 3:1.^↩
8 Matthew 3:1 in The New Testament: A Translation. Trans. David Bentley Hart, 4.^↩
9 Cited in Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism of John to the Transfiguration. Trans. Adrian J. Walker, 50.^↩
10 Romans 6:12.^↩
11 Roman Missal. “The Easter Vigil,” sec. 55.^↩
12 Matthew 3:11.^↩
13 Charles Coffin. "On Jordan's Bank the Baptist's Cry."^↩

Year II Monday of the First Week of Advent

Readings: Isaiah 4:2-6; Psalm 122:1-9; Matthew 8:5-11

Worthiness. It’s often an issue, even if sometimes a bit overwrought. Over time, even among Christians, the issue has shifted from the default of not being worthy to the presumption of worthiness. What is lost in this shift is a sense of sin’s gravity. Its effects on one’s relationship with God, who alone is holy.

The Roman centurion’s response to Jesus’ declaration that He would follow him home to cure his servant are words with which we are very familiar: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.”¹ We say these words at every Mass after being told to “Behold, the Lamb of God. Behold Him who takes away the sins of the world.”

It’s easy for our Mass responses to become rote, uttered thoughtlessly and without passion. This must be resisted mightily. After all, I am not worthy.

Left to my own merits, no matter how much I strive, I will never be worthy. While this is simply a recognition of reality, it should pain me, nonetheless. I want to be worthy or should at least want to desire to be worthy.

One’s motivation for wanting to be worthy can be a mixed bag. On the debit side of the ledger, it’s often the case that someone doesn’t like needing help to be deemed worthy. It isn’t enough to want to be holy. One’s desire to be holy must be a holy desire, that is, rightly motivated. Part of this holy desire means recognizing that I need God, that I need grace given in and through Christ by the power of the Spirit.

Our first reading from the Isaiah (who we hear a lot from over Advent) is from first Isaiah. Therefore, it was written before Israel’s exile. This oracle speaks of those who remain in Jerusalem during exile. Remember, it was the elites who were led away into captivity. The hoi polloi, or, in Hebrew, the anawim- the little ones, those of no account, who remained. These, pronounces the prophet, “Will be called holy.”²

It is the poor and the weak who know they need assistance who remain in the holy city. These least among us ask for help, sometimes beg for it, like the blind beggar Jesus encountered in Jericho about whom we heard a few Mondays ago. God delights in these humble souls.

After acknowledging our unworthiness, we implore the Lord to “only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” As often as we earnestly ask, the Lord says the healing word. When one is aware of serious sin, Christ beckons him to the confessional to say the healing word.

Lord longs to say, “I absolve you of your sins.” Sometimes, we forget the extent to which Jesus turned things upside down. It isn’t humility to insist that your sins are greater than God’s mercy. On the contrary, it is damnable pride. After all, didn’t God give His only Son to extend divine mercy to you? As Saint Paul insisted, “you have been purchased at a price.”³

Confession is not where you go to admit defeat. It is where you go to claim the victory Christ won for you over sin and death! Don’t let pride, one of the devil’s best tools, keep you from claiming your victory. Christ’s Easter victory is your victory. Without Easter, Christmas doesn’t matter.

---

1 Isaiah 4:3.^↩
2 Matthew 8:8.^↩
3 See 1 Corinthians 6:20.^↩

"How soon is now?"

Readings: Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122:1-9; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:37-44

For this First Sunday of Advent, our "epistle" reading is a longer section of the thirteenth chapter of Saint Paul's Letter to the Romans than the reading found in Morning Prayer for the Liturgy of the Hours. Despite being a relatively short liturgical season, Advent has two fairly distinct phases. For the first two weeks, Advent is a continuation of the end of the liturgical year. As such, it focuses on Christ's return at the end of time and preparing for His return.

Advent, therefore, begins penitentially. Oddly, there are those who deny that Advent has a penitential character at all. This is belied by the fact that the predominant liturgical color for this season is violet. Liturgically, violent indicates penance. Besides, for most Eastern Christians the pre-Christmas fast is as rigorous or nearly as rigorous as the Lenten fast. Sadly, Latin Christians have largely dispensed with pre-Christmas penitential practices.

As noted a few weeks ago, there is something seriously defective about a "Christianity" that has lost its eschatological edge. In fact, such a "Christianity" is a pseudo-Christianity. Far from honoring, Jesus Christ, rending being a Christian as nothing more than choosing one existential option among innumerable existential options is to ignore what He taught. Our Gospel for today is one such teaching. Christianity isn't just one more moral code or even a moral code at all.

Faced with these eschatological passages, we have a tendency to water them down. Otherwise, we might get a bit uncomfortable. This discomfort might cause someone to examine his life. And, who knows, perhaps even repent.

Fundamentally, the message for the First Sunday of Advent is that being a Christian means living intentionally. The intent in living this way isn't to live this way when that just means adhering to a set of rules and regulations in order to receive a reward. It means living this way in order to be changed from the inside out. It means metanoia. It means desiring to be conformed to the image of Christ, wanting to be holy as He is holy.

"Maranatha" in the medieval Southwick Codex

In turn, desiring to be conformed to the image of Christ means recognizing that you cannot accomplish this transformation on your own. Without grace, you cannot be like Christ. Human beings were created in the image and likeness of God. While God's image, the imago Dei, is ineradicable, likeness to God is lost through sin and can only be restored by grace.

We are creatures who inhabit time. Time will end. Therefore, each day salvation draws nearer- whether that be the eschaton or your own death. This year is the 1,700th anniversary of the Nicene-Constaninopolitan Creed. In that Creed, which we recite virtually every Sunday (we can use the Apostles Creed, but that in no way diminishes my point), we profess that Jesus Christ "will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead." This is a dogma of Christian faith. Therefore, it is de fide. Without it, one's faith becomes belief in something else.

It has been more than 2,000 years since the Lord's first advent. In human terms, this is a very long time. It is postulated that Israel's exodus from Egypt took place around 1446 BC. If one backs up from the exodus to Israel's "going down to Egypt," you get pretty close to 2,000 years. Please do not misunderstand me. I am not predicting that Jesus is coming soon. Yet, He might. Nobody can possibly know. The signs the Lord invokes, I believe, are deliberately ambiguous.

Rather, my point is that most of history is an advent, a time of waiting on God. Many have concluded that waiting on God is like waiting for Godot, that is, waiting for someone who never turns up. But that isn't true. Christ has turned up.

Through the Holy Spirit, who is Christ's resurrection presence, He remains present, especially and profoundly in and through His Body, the Church. This is why the response to the Intercessions for Evening Prayer for the First Sunday of Advent is Come and stay with us, Lord.Hence, we live between the already and the not yet. This is a place of tension.

Today, as we enter (another) Advent, we are urged to live this tension. We are exhorted not let either or both sides go slack. We are encouraged not give up our joyful waiting for the coming of our Lord. This is why we pray- מרנאתא - Transliterated, this is Maranatha!

Maranatha is an Aramaic word. Hence, it belongs to what was Jesus' native language. Found in 1 Corinthians 16:22 and alluded to in Revelation 22:20, Maranatha is translated in various ways: "Our Lord, come!" but it could also be credibly translated "Our Lord has come." Fittingly, there is no need to resolve this ambiguity, this tension, just as there is no need to resolve the tension of the already and the not-yet. Between these two is now.

Wake up! Stay awake! Be salt. Don't lose your savor. Await Christ with joyful expectation, which means seeking to make God's kingdom present here and now.

"I'm listening to the music with no fear"

Ah, Friday after Thanksgiving! I often post something on Thanksgiving. But this year, we did something we've been discussing for probably fifteen years: going out-of-town for this holiday. And so, we're in Hurricane, Utah, which is the extreme southwest corner of the Beehive State.

All of our children, minus one, are here as are my wife's Mom, brother and his daughter. It's been a nice break and a good time. A good way to realize how busy you are is to get away and take a break.

I love Thanksgiving. It's becoming my favorite holiday. It's easy to grouse about the origins of this national holiday. In reality, isn't it nice to set aside a day to give thanks? However you observed that day, I hope you took time, as Pope Leo suggested, to thank someone. It's probably something we should all try to do everyday- say "Thank you" whenever we feel gratitude.

As Brother David Steindl-Rast noted his wonderful book on gratitude: "Look closely and will find that people are happy because they are grateful. The opposite of gratefulness is just taking everything for granted." Or, even worse, focusing on that bad things, which, as human beings, we are predisposed to do.

Me at the end of today's trail in Kolob Canyon

I readily admit that gratitude doesn't come easily to me. This despite the fact there are a lot of people for whom I should be deeply grateful. Also, a lot in my life over 60 years now for which I should be far more grateful. It's much easier to focus what I will just call other stuff.

A big focus of mine right now is living with less fear. I am not gripped by fear, but I tend to worry too much. Even if you live to 100, life is too short to worry a lot. There is always something to worry about, for sure. Some things are worth worrying about. Most things are not, especially when you realize most of what you worry about is nonsense.

I had a great time driving down with my two middle sons. We listened to so much music. Some of it new to me. "Punkrocker" by the Teddybears, featuring Iggy Pop, is one such song. It is our traditio:

Happy "good thieves"

Jesus Christ isn't just king of the world, He is king of the universe, of the cosmos. As no less a brilliant mind than Einstein observed, we do, in fact, live in a cosmos. Cosmos is the counter to chaos. Hence, the Lord's insistence to Pilate that His kingdom is not of this world can mean more than one thing.

Christ's kingdom is out of this world as well as in this world. He is King of everything that is, was, or ever will be. For a Christian, this is axiomatic. It is an atomic statement, an ontological fact, just as the Church, as our reading from Colossians indicates, is an ontological entity, not a voluntary association of the like-minded.

The sarcastic sign Pilate had hung on the Lord's Cross was true as far as it went: Jesus is "The king of the Jews." But He is also king of the Gentiles, even of Caesar. Pope Pius XII wrote about Catholics having a supranationality. In the end, every knee shall bend and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.

In his Apostolic Letter, In Unitate Fidei, promulgated today, given in advance of his Apostolic Journey to Turkey to observe the 1,700th anniversary of Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, Pope Leo XIV noted

The profession of faith in Jesus Christ, our Lord and God is the center of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed. This is the heart of our Christian life. For this reason, we commit to follow Jesus as our master, companion, brother and friend. But the Nicene Creed asks for more: it reminds us not to forget that Jesus Christ is the Lord (Kyrios), the Son of the living God who “for our salvation came down from heaven” and died “for our sake” on the cross, opening the way to new life for us through his resurrection and ascension (sec. 11)

Christ is not a king like other kings. He is not a demanding, selfish, cruel tyrant, paranoid about rivals and eager to assert His authority by using corecive means. He isn't drunk with power or domineering. While being perfectly just, He is merciful, selfless, and kind. When He mounted the cross, He mounted His throne.

As the Preface to the Eucharistic Prayer for today's observance puts it, Christ offered Himself "on the altar of the Cross" to present to the Father

an eternal and universal kingdom,
a kingdom of truth and life,
a kingdom of holiness and grace,
a kingdom of justice, peace, and love

Nothing really gets at the "theology" of observances such as today's like the Preface, which serves as a shining example of liturgy as prima theologia- first theology.

With one notable exception, it is only thieves who dwell in Christ's kingdom. Even this exception, Mary, the Mother of God, confesses herself a "lowly servant." So, the question is not whether or not you're a "thief." I am and you are. Rather, the question is, do you know you're a thief? Then the question becomes, are you a good thief or a bad one?

In his last will and testament, discovered after his martyrdom, Christian de Chergé, abbot of Our Lady of Atlas abbey in Tibhirine, Algeria, addressing his killer, wrote this: "I commend you to the God in whose face I see yours. And may we find each other, happy 'good thieves' in Paradise, if it please God, the Father of us both."

"To show you that I've thought about you and missed you"

A couple of posts back, 2025 became the most prolific year on Καθολικός διάκονος since 2016. I don't mind sharing that I am proud of that fact. This is a labor of love and vehicle for growth.

More than being something I love and that helps me grow, this blog is a way to share to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I try to do that in a credible way. At root, my blog was born as and hopefully remains an evangelical effort.

As my blog epigram puts it: "This is a public cyberspace in which I seek to foster Christian discipleship in the late modern milieu in the diakonia of koinonia and in the recognition that "the Eucharist is the only place of resistance to annihilation of the human subject."

I am glad that the Church prohibits the use of electronic devices for her liturgies. The use of the ritual books matters. Liturgy is analog and corporeal. In a word, incarnational.

One of the ways I try to share the Gospel is by a deep engagement with "secular" culture: books, movies, music, etc. There were ways that I came to faith and these also sustain my faith. One of the beautiful things about being Catholic and catholic is not to have to make some nutty hard-and-fast distinction between the sacred and the profane. Christ collapsed that.

Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Wednesday I read on article over on First Things by Stephen Adubato: "Rosalía’s Restless Heart." Let e clear, I claim no familiarity whatsoever with Rosalía's music. This article was my first exposure to her music.

Like me, Adubato is apparently a beneficiary of the work and charism of Monsignor Luigi Giussani. Giussani's "method," such as it is, lends itself nicely to attending to life, to looking at reality according to all the factors that make it up. This is indicated by Adubato's citation of Don Gius at the beginning and end of his article, citations that discuss music and celebate vocations.

I was very struck by a quote from the article- a citation from an interview with Rosalía:

The more we are in the era of dopamine,” she says, “the more I want the opposite. . . . There has to be something that pulls us . . . to be focused for an hour where you’re just there. I know it’s a lot to ask . . . but that’s what I’m craving

I think more and more people are craving something very like this as well. Just as Elijah did not find God in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire, God is not likely to be found in the dopamine hit to which so many of us have become addicted (see 1 Kings 19:11-13). Really, anything that adheres to the law of diminishing returns can't be God.

Como escribió el obispo dominico de la diócesis española de Sant Feliu de Llobregat sobre Rosalía después de escuchar Lux: «No consigo entenderte, pero me gustaría hacerlo.» As the Dominican bishop of the Spanish Diocese of Sant Feliu de Llobregar wrote about Rosalía after listening to her album Lux: "I don't understand you, but I'd like to."

Now I am listening to Lux. Hence, our traditio is a track from her album- "Dio es un stalker." Even for an English speaker that should be easy to translate. A bit different than "the hound of heaven," ¿verdad? The title of this post is my translation of lyrics from this song.

Hoy se conmemora la presentación de Nuestra Señora. Es una conmemoración muy especial para todos en la iglesia.

Memorial of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary

Readings: 1 Mac 1:10-15.41-43.54-57.62-63; Ps 119:53.134.150.153.158; Luke 18:35-43

Today the Church remembers Saint Elizabeth of Hungary. Had yesterday not been Sunday, it would’ve been the Memorial Saint Margaret of Scotland. The Church’s liturgical calendar contains many observances to remember holy women who lived in the Middles Ages, which spanned the millennium from the fifth through the fifteenth centuries. What is remarkable is the reason these holy women are remembered.

They are remembered and celebrated, almost without exception, for their charitable works on behalf of the poor. Born a princess, Elizabeth of Hungary was the daughter of the king of Hungary. At 14, she married the soon-to-be Landgrave of Thuringia, Louis IV. After six years of what by all accounts was a happy marriage that produced three children, Louis died while enroute to join the Sixth Crusade.

Widowed at 20, Elizabeth was given back her substantial dowry. She used this to build a hospital in Marburg, Germany. In this hospital she served the sick herself.

Elizabeth became an early member of Third Order Franciscans. She is the patroness of Third Order of Franciscans. In her widowhood she took vows of obedience, celibacy, and poverty with her confessor Konrad von Marburg. Like Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, Elizabeth died at age 24.

Jesus Christ is a healer of body and soul. Hence, caring for the sick is an important aspect of the Church’s pastoral ministry- one of the corporal works of mercy. In today’s Gospel, the Lord heals a blind beggar as He comes into Jericho to make His way up the mountain to Jerusalem. What is easy to miss is that while the man physically cannot see, he is not spiritually blind.

His spiritual sight is evidenced by the way he hails Jesus. Upon hearing that “Jesus of Nazareth” is passing by, the blind beggar cries out: “Son of David, have pity on me!"¹ This is a Messianic greeting, one Jesus didn’t often, if ever hear, during His Galilean ministry or as He made His way to Jerusalem. This blind man can see who He is- Son of David, the Messiah, the Mashiach, God’s Anointed One.

Saint Elizabeth of Hungary feeding the poor

This is confirmed when Jesus tells him, after receiving the blind man’s plea to see, “Have sight: your faith has saved you.”² This is move like the one Jesus made when the four men lowered their paralyzed friend through the roof of the house where Jesus was performing healings. Upon seeing this man, the Lord tells him his sins are forgiven.

These words cause consternation among some of those in the house I imagine to be lurking in the shadows. Then Jesus says, in order to prove He has the power to forgive sins, “I say to you, rise, pick up your stretcher, and go home,” which the man promptly did.³ Jesus gave the man his sight almost as if to say, "This is to show you (and the others) that I am the One you say I am."

In short, the blind beggar sees with an acuity nobody else seems to possess. This is why his humble plea for sight is given. But gaining or regaining his sight doesn’t save him. Through the eyes of faith, this man was able to see who Jesus is. This is the faith that saves. It is a gift from God.

The saints are those who, like the blind beggar, see who Jesus is and live accordingly, which is to live reality. Living this way pretty much without exception looks odd to others. For example, like Margaret of Scotland and Elizabeth of Hungary, not giving up wealth, power, and prestige by abandoning it but putting these in the service of the poor and disenfranchised.

To the world, living this way looks like squandering. But in reality, it shows that they understand this simple sum: Jesus+nothing=everything.

---

1 Luke 18:37-38.^↩
2 Luke 18:42.^↩
3 See Luke 5:17-26; Mark 2:1-12.^↩

Year C Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Malachi 3:19-20a; Psalm 98:5-9; 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12; Luke 21:5-19

When it’s all said and done what remains? What is left when everything is reduced to rubble? What can you take with you when you die? Why does it matter?

With the elapse of many centuries, even a couple of millennia, the eschatological or “apocalyptic” dimension of Christianity grows more attenuated. Much of the urgency expressed in Paul’s letters is tamped down. Given our increasingly empirical and existential attitudes, even when it comes to our faith, we may be in danger of losing this vital dimension of Christianity entirely.

Today is the penultimate Sunday of the liturgical year, which culminates with the great Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. Add to that the fact that November is the month during which we remember as well as pray and sacrifice for our beloved dead, you get the feeling that it’s the end of the world.

This is precisely the feeling these observances are meant to evoke. Perhaps it’s better to say that what we look forward to during the final weeks of each year is the end of time. Time is up either when you die or when Christ returns. This realization should cause each of us to consider what really matters and to pattern our lives accordingly.

One spiritual discipline it’s important not to overlook is the practice of memento mori- “remember death.” Far from being a futile exercise in morbidity, memento mori helps one live sub specie aeternitatis- “under the aspect of eternity.” At the beginning of the first week of his Spiritual Exercises, Saint Ignatius of Loyola set forth their “Principle and Foundation.” The first sentence states: “Man is created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by this means to save his soul.”¹

This echoes one of the first questions asked in the Baltimore Catechism. The response to the question Why did God make you? is God made me to know Him, love Him, and serve Him in this world and to be happy with Him forever in heaven.² Saint Ignatius goes on to insist, “It is necessary to keep as aim the end for which I am created.”³

In other words, everything should be done with the end for which I am made and redeemed firmly in mind. This is what it means to live under the aspect of eternity. Made in the image of God, each and every human person has a transcendent, that is, a spiritual dimension.

Despite various fanciful theories, at least the way we experience it, time only flows in one direction. This observation is what led the pre -Socratic Greek philosopher Heraclitus to note, “No one ever steps in the same river twice.”⁴ Or, as the Steve Miller band sang: “Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’ into the future.”⁵

None of us knows how much time we have left. Being a Christian, therefore, requires that I live not so much with a sense of urgency as with sense of purpose. Even so, scripture urges us to “consider the patience of our Lord as salvation.”⁶

Living purposefully requires an intention. The intention that shapes Christian life is realizing the end for which God created, redeemed, and for which He now seeks to sanctify you.

During the first two weeks of Advent, the Church remains focused on Christ’s return at the end of time. The aim is not fear but genuine conversion. Another word for this is repentance, which is usually reduced to being sorry for one’s sins.

But acknowledging and being contrite for your sins is only the beginning of repentance. It’s the mere recognition that you need to change and the stark realization of specifically how you must change to be transformed into the image of Christ.

Christ has no accidental disciples. Following Christ is an intentional choice that leads the one who makes it to live purposefully. What is the intention that constitutes this way of life? To abide by Christ’s teachings.

“This is the way we may know we are union with [the Lord],” scripture teaches, that we strive “to live just as he lived.”⁷ Is it possible to live this way? Yes, but not because it’s something you can achieve on your own. Living this way is not an achievement that earns you a reward. “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works so no one can boast.”⁸

In addition to making memento mori more than some goth-inspired fetish, hope is what enables, invites, entices you to live this way. Optimism is not synonymous with hope. The beginning of the fifth chapter of Romans gives us the topology of hope:

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access [by faith] to this grace in which we stand, and we boast in hope of the glory of God⁹

Without Christ, there is no hope in death.

Because we boast in the hope of the glory of God, which is Jesus Christ raised from the dead, the apostle continues,

…we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us¹⁰

Did you get that? Hope does not disappoint because God has poured His love into the heart of believers. Let’s ask again, When it’s all said and done what remains? What is left when everything is reduced to rubble? What can you take with you when you die? Let’s let Saint Paul respond:

So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love¹¹

But the last of the questions with which we started remains unanswered: Why does it matter? Modified slightly, What difference does it make? Well, for the person who has experienced the outpouring of God’s love, the difference is out of this world. Christ invites you to experience this for yourself.

---

1 Saint Ignatius of Loyola. Spiritual Exercises, First Week “Principle and Foundation.”^↩
2 Baltimore Catechism. Catechism 1, Lesson First: One the End of Man, Q6.^↩
3 Spiritual Exercises, The First Way, To Make a Sound and Good Election.^↩
4 Plato. Cratylus, 402a.^↩
5 Steve Miller Band. “Fly Like an Eagle.”^↩
6 2 Peter 3:15.^↩
7 See 1 John 2:5-6.^↩
8 Ephesians 2:8-9.^↩
9 Romans 5:1-2.^↩
10 See Romans 5:3-8.^↩
11 1 Corinthians 13:13.^↩

Institution of lectors

Since Friday kind of caught me flatfooted again, I am posting something I wrote this week that was not used. Lest it go to waste, I am posting it here.

As Director of the Office of the Diaconate for my diocese, I have been entrusted with forming new deacons. On Wednesday of last week, eight deacon Candidates for my diocese were instituted lectors by our bishop.

In 1967, Pope Paul VI promulgated, motu proprio the Apostolic Letter Ministeria Quaedam. With this, Paul VI abolished the minor orders of porter and exorcist. The orders of lector and acolyte remained. At that time, these two minor orders were reserved exclusively for men preparing for ordination.

Then, in January 2021, Pope Francis promulgated the Apostolic Letter Spiritus Domini. This Apostolic Letter was also promulgated motu proprio. In Spiritus Domini, the Holy Father revised Canon 230 § 1 of the Code of Canon Law to state: “Lay persons who possess the age and qualifications established by decree of the conference of bishops can be admitted on a stable basis through the prescribed liturgical rite to the ministries of lector and acolyte.” This includes women as well as men. At least to my knowledge the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops has issued no decree regarding this change.

With Pope Francis' change, lector and acolyte are no longer "minor orders." Rather, along with the order of catechist, these are now lay orders. Pope Francis established the order of catechist in his Apostolic Letter Antiquum Ministerium (this too he promulgated motu proprio). In December 2021, the Dicastery of for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments issued the Rite for the Institution of Catechists during Mass.

While it is not the case that men preparing for ordination are instituted as catechists, they are still instituted as lectors and, after a suitable period allowing for the exercise of the lector’s ministry, then also as acolytes. Prior to being instituted lectors, married men preparing for diaconal ordination must petition their bishop in writing asking to be installed as lectors. Additionally, each wife of a man preparing to be a deacon has to give her consent to the bishop in writing for him to take this step.

The core of the Rite for the Institution of Lectors mirrors the part of the Rite of Ordination for Deacons during which the ordaining bishop presents the ordinand with the Evangeliary. The person being instituted as a Lector kneels in front of the bishop. Placing in the hands of the one being instituted either a Bible or the Church’s Lectionary, the bishop says:

Take this book of holy Scripture
and be faithful in handing on the word of God
so that it may grow strong in the hearts of his people

To which the one being instituted responds: “Amen.”

It is the ministry of the lector is to study, know, teach, and proclaim Sacred Scripture.

Being instituted lector marks the second milestone the journey to ordination, the first being acceptance as a Candidate for the sacrament of orders by the bishop. Institution as acolytes, then, is the penultimate step on this pilgrimage.

Marking a milestone

In addition to today being the Memorial of Saint Martin of Tours, Armistice Day, and Veteran's Day, it is my birthday. It's my 60th one to be exact. That seems incredible to me to the point of being unbelieveable.

For a number of years I composed some pretty dense posts on my birthday. I haven't done that for a number of years. Rest easy, I am not going to do that today either.

Since this is my 20th year of year blogging, I have been doing this for a third of my life. That, too, seems unbelievable. But when something works, it works. Yes, I remain committed to my "blogspot page," substack smart asses notwithstanding. Besides, this is not a moneymaking or platform-building endeavor. It's for whoever wants to read it. As I have stated probably too much, this is a vehicle of growth for me personally.

While I still don't consider myself old, I am old enough to know that life is a strange journey. While my life isn't strange in any remarkable way, I have certainly gone through many phases, eras, transitions, ups and downs, etc. On the whole I have been both blessed and lucky. I am also not young.

Basilica of Saint Martin in Tours, France

This year, as consistent readers know, has been fitting for my sixtieth. There have been a lot of things swirling around, many things to discern as I begin a new decade. This makes life more interesting. When it comes to work and finances, I tend to play things very safely. The change I am looking to make, while it has some risk, isn't all that risky. Change, as they say, is hard.

Like most people, I suppose, I am not where I think I should be in many aspects of life. I guess there's the lazy assumption that you reach a point at which you've figured it out. For me, there is either no such point or not only have I not reached it, it isn't even in sight. But this, too, helps make my life worth living.

As a Christian, I am learning the fruitfulness of Eugene Peterson's long obedience in the same direction. A successful pilgrmage requires the pilgrim to keep on walking. Faltingly and haltingly, I follow the Galilean confident that I will enter that sabbath rest.

Saint Martin of Tours followed Christ. It changed his life completely. Saint Martin, until quite recently, one of Europe's most revered saints. On 11 November 2007, Pope Benedict XVI ended his Angelus address on Saint Martin with this exhortation:

that all Christians may be like St Martin, generous witnesses of the Gospel of love and tireless builders of jointly responsible sharing

Healing, watching

Well, I successfully posted a Friday traditio every Friday for 10 months. My reason for not posting one yesterday is that all week I have been in the throes of a pretty bad sinus infection. I am prone to sinus infections when the weather turns cold and dry. As I lay in bed with my humidifier going, waiting for the antibiotics to kick in, and staving off the headache that comes with coughing too much, I had the chance to watch three movies on the Criterion channel.

First, I watched the short documentary The Black and the Green by St. Clair Bourne. It is a short film about a group of American civil rights activists who traveled to Belfast in 1983 in midst of "The Troubles." Due to its brevity, the film isn't really fleshed out but is still quite good and shows the importance of solidarity among people who are truly oppressed.

I also watched a documentary that I believe was made in 1991 or at least begun in that year but not released until 2000. 1991 marked the 30th anniversary of the political assassination of a figure previously unknown to me: Patrice Lumumba, who served as Zaire's (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) first prime minister after that country gained independence from Belgium.

Simply titled Lumumba, Raoul Peck's documentary is a fascinating look about the rise to power of this former beer salesman and postal clerk but, moreover, of his swift fall from power and his brutal execution. He has been more or less forgotten. In the end, Lumumba only served for about 2 months as prime minister before being sacked by Zaire's first president.

Enrico Berlinguer

Shortly after these tumultous early months of independence, Zaire witnessed the rise of Mobutu Sesi Seko, who became a long serving and brutal dictator. It seems that prior to his fall, Lumumba was fairly close to Mobutu. Peck's documentary style mixes the past and the present and makes Lumumba a spectre haunting the film.

After he was killed, Lumumba's body was hacked to bits, scattered about, with some parts of his body dissolved in acid. So, his body was never found. Peck uses this to good effect in his haunting film, which highlights the dark underside of the post-WWII wave of independence in addition to the gross injustices of colonialization.

Finally, I watched Christopher Roth's Europe Endless 1: The Spectre of Eurocommunism. I have to say, this is a fascinating movie. The central figure of the movie is critical theorist Colin McCabe. It's a deeply interesting film. Of course, "spectre" in the title is meant to evoke the opening of The Communist Manifesto ("A spectre is haunting Europe...").

The key concept underlying the film is Gramsci's "hegemony." I guess the point of the movie was that social and political change don't have to be brought about by violent revolution. Rather, persistent striving after certain goals and winning people to your side is a better course of action. This begins with dissuading people from continually voting against their own interest. Like a lot of people, however, I remain skeptical of drift away from class and the consequent degradation into idpol.

The Spectre of Eurocommunism is no ham-fisted pro-Marxist movie. One of the more interesting parts of the movies is about how the Red Brigades' kidnapping and murder of Aldo Moro in 1978 was aimed at preventing political collaboration between the Italian Communist Party, led by the fascinating figure of Enrico Berlinguer, whose own sudden death in 1984 at age 62 was a blow from which the party never recovered, and the Christian Democrats.

Berlinguer died after spending four days in a coma as a result of the brain haemorrhage he suffered while giving a speech in Padua. He had broken the Italian party away from Moscow

Aldo Moro was close enough to Pope Saint Paul VI that the Holy Father considered him as something of a son. Moro's murder in May 1978 undoubtedly contributed to Pope Paul's rapid decline and death in August of that year. Moro was the bridge between the two parties. As Bob Marley asked, "How long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look?"

Let it be said, especially as we gear up to celebrate the mother Church of Christianity- Saint John Lateran, the Pope's Cathedral as Bishop of Rome- that Berlinguer's funeral Mass was celebrated there in 1984.

I love the quote by Welsh socialist writer Raymond Williams used as the film's epilogue: "To be truly radical is to make hope possible rather than despair convincing." I am looking forward to watching the other two movies Europe Endless 2 and Europe Endless 3 once they are made and released.

Anyway, I am still too tired to write up any more detailed description of the the movies I was able to watch yesterday. Each one was fascinating and gave me a lot to consider given what we're living through politically. Especially as we witness the mere spectre of human solidarity once again unleashing a frightening rightwing backlash very much out of proportion to any "threat" by the nebulous "left."

At least in the U.S., the faux protestations of Phox Gnus notwithstanding, there is really not much of a genuine left to be concerned about. The craven and cynical populism and nationalism with which this backlash is laced is built on making despair convincing.

On Thursday, I also started to re-read Giorgio Agamben's State of Exception, which is the second volume (according to a revised order), of his Homo sacer series.

I changed my mind. So, even though it's Saturday, I am still posting a traditio. Kraftwerk's "Europe Endless" seems more than fitting:

Year 1 Monday of the Thirty-first Week in Ordinary Time (Mem: Saint Martin de Porres)

Readings: Romans 11:29-36; Psalm 69:30-31.33-34.36; Luke 14:12-14

Saint Martin de Porres was a Dominican lay brother. He was born to a Spanish father and a black mother in Lima, Peru, where he lived his whole life. He was friends with Saint Rose of Lima, who was herself a Third Order Dominican.

Saint Martin was a vegetarian, who refrained from eating meat as an act of austerity, poverty, and penance. Very much in the vein of Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Martin cared for and befriended animals, especially strays. He was deeply devoted to the Eucharist and was constant in prayer.

Being mixed race himself, he showed great compassion for all people, regardless of their race or social status. At least until recently, this sounded pretty mundane to us but in his time and place this disposition stood out. Having received some medical training, his primary work was in the infirmary taking care of the sick. Saint Martin also distributed food and alms to the poor and needy in Lima.

Saint Martin is particularly remembered for ministering to waves of newly enslaved Africans who were brought to Lima, most of whom were destined for difficult and short lives in the mines. He was adamant that the innate dignity of all human beings be recognized and respected. Again, this was a bit revolutionary for the time and place. He was a vocal opponent of slavery and the mistreatment of the poor.

It is tempting to say that Saint Martin de Porres was ahead of his time. What is really the case is simply that he took the Gospel of Jesus Christ to heart and endeavored to live it. No matter that age or epoch, seeking to radically live the teachings of Christ is countercultural and often viewed as threatening and subversive.

In his life and ministry, Saint Martin certainly lived out quite directly what Jesus teaches in our Gospel this evening. By his medically attending to, feeding, housing, and being with the crippled, the blind, the lame, and the poor Saint Martin, as a lay religious (he was not a priest nor was he a deacon), he did as Christ taught.

But the Lord did only teach His followers to give to those who cannot repay, He paid a debt He didn’t owe, to quote an old hymn, for me, who owed a debt I could not pay. Considering our reading from Saint Paul’s Letter to the Romans, we are to do for others what God has done for us: extend love, care, and mercy that cannot be repaid.

Showing forth the diakonia of all the baptized, Saint Martin taught “Pray not for wealth or success, but for the opportunity to serve others.” He also offers this insight: “If you want to find true happiness, look for it in making others happy.” The shortest route to unhappiness and dissatisfaction is to become obsessed with your own happiness and satisfaction. Yet, this bad advice is given and taken all the time!

For those of us who grapple with depression, it is important to rediscover the truth of Saint Martin’s insight about the balm of serving others. Getting “outside” of ourselves is often a good remedy. Far from being other people, hell is isolation and self-absorption.

Heeding Pope Francis, I will end on a hopeful note. Saint Martin, noted something echoed by Pope Benedict in his first encyclical Deus caritas est, namely “When you give to others, you not only give them food and material things, but you also give them hope and a reason to believe in a better future.”

Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (All Souls)

Readings: Wisdom 3:1-9; Psalm 23:1-6; Romans 5:5-11; John 6:37-40

“All Souls” is the shorthand designation for today’s observance. Its actual name is The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed. Yesterday’s solemnity of All Saints is our annual celebration of what has traditionally been called “the Church triumphant.” This commemoration is done on behalf of “the Church penitent,” that is, the souls in purgatory.

Two ways in which our Catholic faith can said to be in danger of being “protestantized” in our culture is the demise of the cult of the saints and gradual disappearance of purgatory. Purgatory is then replaced with either de facto universalism, which holds that everyone who is “a pretty good” person goes to heaven or by a simple binary: heaven or hell, determined immediately at death.

But purgatory, along with hell, remain very real parts of the Catholic faith. While it is God who judges, not us, Tradition teaches that our default position is that we can and should be of some assistance to virtually all our beloved dead. Hence, in every Mass, we pray for the dead.

In the seventh (of eight) part of the Eucharistic Prayer, a part simply called in English “Intercessions,” we pray for the dead. For example, in the four Eucharistic Prayers for Various Needs we pray:

Remember our brothers and sisters…, who have fallen asleep in the peace of your Christ, and all the dead, whose faith you alone have known. Admit them to rejoice in the light of your face, and in the resurrection give them the fullness of life¹

The format of the Universal Prayer, commonly called “The Prayers of the Faithful,” includes a petition or petitions for the dead. The very fact that we pray for the dead indicates that some, probably many, of our dearly departed family and friends benefit from our prayers. Our prayers assist them as they make their way into God’s holy presence.

All Hallows Eve is known among some as Reformation Day-commemorating Martin Luther’s proclamation of his famous (or infamous) 99 Theses. Initially and for several years afterwards, apart from their manifest abuse, which he rightly protested, Luther had no issue with indulgences per se. Indulgences have not been abolished by the Church, even now.

On the contrary, Indulgences are still to be sought both for us and for the dead. We are coming to the end of a Jubilee Year. During each Jubilee year there is the possibility of obtaining a Jubilee indulgence.

In his Bull of Indiction for this year’s Jubilee, promulgated 9 May 2024, Pope Francis, in addition to allowing for the possibility of obtaining a plenary indulgence, noted “The Jubilee indulgence, thanks to the power of prayer, is intended in a particular way for those who have gone before us, so that they may obtain full mercy.”²

When we confess our sins and express true contrition, have our sins absolved, and make satisfaction by completing the penance given, the eternal punishment for our sins is removed. But the temporal punishments remain. In his Apostolic Constitution Indulgentarium Doctrina, promulgated on New Year’s Day 1967, a little more than a year after the close of the Second Vatican Council, Pope Saint Paul VI explained temporal punishment:

These punishments are imposed by the just and merciful judgment of God for the purification of souls, the defense of the sanctity of the moral order and the restoration of the glory of God to its full majesty. Every sin in fact causes a perturbation in the universal order established by God in His ineffable wisdom and infinite charity, and the destruction of immense values with respect to the sinner himself and to the human community³

Mother Church grants indulgences for performing good deeds. These good deeds help God in the divine mission of setting the world aright. Indulgences can be partial or sometimes plenary, meaning full or complete.

To be granted any indulgence, in addition to making the “indulgent” act, one must make a confession and receive communion. To gain a plenary indulgence, one must also say a prayer for the intention of the Pope (Pope Leo’s prayer intention for November is for those who struggle with suicidal thoughts) and have no attachment to sin, even venial sin. In addition to doing the good deed, the conditions for a partial indulgence are confession and communion.

From 1-8 November, you can gain a plenary indulgence that is only applicable to the souls in purgatory by meeting the above conditions and then visiting a cemetery. You must visit the cemetery within a few days of your confession and communion.

In a catechesis on Saint Catherine of Genoa, whose best-known spiritual work is her Treatise on Purgatory, Pope Benedict XVI noted that Catherine “did not see purgatory as a scene in the bowels of the earth.” Rather, for her purgatory is “an interior fire.” From the instant of her conversion, “Catherine suddenly became aware of God’s goodness, of the infinite distance of her own life from this goodness and of a burning fire within her. And this is the fire that purifies, the interior fire of purgatory.”⁴ This is nothing other than the fire of divine love.

Finally, Pope Benedict insisted that Saint Catherine’s Treatise “reminds us of a fundamental truth of faith that becomes for us an invitation to pray for the deceased so that they may attain the beatific vision of God in the Communion of Saints.”⁵

“Chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed,” we heard in our reading from the Book of Wisdom, along with “As gold in the furnace, he proved them,” and “In the time of their visitation they shall shine, and shall dart about as sparks through stubble.”⁶ These also tell of the purifying fire of divine love. As Sacred Scripture reveals: “our God is a consuming fire.”⁷

Dear friends, along with veneration of the saints and purgatory, praying for the dead and seeking indulgences remain vital parts of Catholic faith and practice. Christ has given us these means of grace through His Church to use for ourselves and for the sanctification of our beloved dead. Today’s Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed provides a good starting point to live our faith more fully.

As the title for Pope Francis’ Bull of Indiction for this year’s Jubilee, taken from our reading from Romans, declares: Spes non confundit- “Hope does not disappoint.”⁸

---

1 Roman Missal. Eucharistic Prayers For Various Needs I-IV For Reconciliation II, sec 7.^↩
2 Pope Francis. Bull of Indiction of the Ordinary Jubilee of the Year 2025 [Spes Non Confundit], sec. 22.^↩
3 Pope Paul VI. Apostolic Constitution Indulgentarium Doctrina, sec. 2.^↩
4 Pope Benedict XVI. General Audience: Saint Catherine of Genoa, 12 January 2011.^↩
5 Ibid.^↩
6 Wisdom 3:5-7.^↩
7 Hebrews 12:29.^↩
8 Romans 5:5..^↩

"The Lord will keep you from all evil"*

Friday seems a fitting day for All Hallows Eve. I don't know about where you live, but here along the Wasatch Front, almost in defiance of all the delibrate chaos being inflicted on the world, we're having an utterly beautiful autumn. Even though I've never been one to dress up, I do enjoy Hallowe'en.

Sunset Wasatch Front, 30 October 2025

Today begins the Church's annual three-day festival of All Saints and All Souls. In older Church parlance, tomorrow we celebrate "the Church triumphant." Meaning that we celebrate those saints, who even now as they await their resurrection, enjoy the beatific vision. Sunday we turn our attention to "the Church penitent." This is to those who have died and are being purged according to God's mercy and grace, being made ready to enter the hallowed halls of heaven. We celebrate and observe these solemn, yet joyful, days as "the Church militant" (a moniker that can easily be exaggerated and misapplied).

To borrow and modify a slogan from a different observance: Jesus is also the reason for this season.

With this marvelous beginning, during the entire month of November, the Church urges us to remember those who have died and to pray and (gasp!) seek indulgences on their behalf. This prompts me to note that today is also Reformation Day. The day that Protestant Christians celebrate Luther's posting his 99 theses in Wittenberg, Germany. It bears noting that intially and for a long time afterwards, Luther had no issue with indulgences apart from their manifest abuse, which he was quite correct to protest.

Back to the dead. In the first instance, it is important to remember those who have died. Secondly, as Christians have done from the beginning, it is important to pray for the dead. Just yesterday, I was prompted to remember and to include in my Rosary intentions three good friends who have died: Steven, Timothy, and Kyle.

All Hallows Eve, by Lauren Hanna, used under provision of Creative Commons License

These experiences, like life itself, are bittersweet. I am grateful for friends, for family, for colleagues, teachers, mentors, people who, for no apparent reason, have befriended, loved, and helped me. As I grow older, my gratitude deepens. If we're honest, none of us really accomplishes much on our own, all by ourselves.

In my case, I cannot say that there are too many of these people to remember. On the contrary, there are too few to forget. May God grant that I never forget even one of these precious few or what each has so graciously done for me!

This week in reference to news of a Peruvian bishop, originally from Germany, who announced he has attempted marriage by being civilly united with a Peruvian woman, I read a post on another platform pointing out that this bishop made his announcement on- are you ready?- "his Blogspot page"! Leading the snarkster to further quip, if in parenthesis, "which some people apparently still have in this year of Our Lord 2025." I wrote about this back in an August post marking the 20th anniversary of my "Blogspot page." Sorry, "Blogspot page" is like "the Google." How about: "he posted this news on his blog"?

In any case, enjoy today. It's a weirdly festive day. As I have done over the years on Hallowe'en, I will end with this exhortation from Saint Paul's First Letter to the Thessalonians, one of the earliest written texts that comprise our uniquely Christian scriptures:

For all of you are children of the light and children of the day. We are not of the night or of darkness. Therefore, let us not sleep as the rest do, but let us stay alert and sober (5:5-6)

Speaking of not forgetting, another time-honored Καθολικός διάκονος observance necessitates the late Warren Zevon's "Werewloves of London" (with a shout out to the late Joe Strummer) as our traditio for All Hallows Eve. My late Dad loved this song:

*From Antiphon 1, Evening Prayer, Office for the Dead

Year 1 Monday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Romans 8:12-17; Psalm 68:2.4.6-7.20-21; Luke 13:10-17

Flesh, spirit, body. What? In this passage, the words “flesh” and “body” are not interchangeable. To grasp what Paul is communicating, it is necessary to distinguish between the Greek words sarx and soma. Sarx translated into English as “flesh” and soma as “body.” The third operative term in this passage is pneuma or “spirit.”

What is confusing is not making this distinction. Such failure leads to bad teaching and bad teaching to bad, sometimes even harmful, praxis. After all, whether before or after the resurrection, to live “by the spirit” is to live in the body, that is, soma while not living in the flesh- sarx. The spiritual life is an embodied life. Otherwise, the Incarnation was in vain.

According to Saint Paul, those whose spirits are infused by the Holy Spirit are God’s children. As children, we can call God “Father.” Unlike Christ, we are not “begotten” of the Father. We are God’s children by adoption. Legally speaking, an adopted child is still a child and as such a coheir along with the begotten child. Hence, our inheritance is eternal life.

Prior to adoption, we were slaves to the flesh. But through Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit, we went from being slaves to sons and daughters. This is how God saves us.

At least in part, what it means to be enslaved to the flesh is to be enslaved to the inevitability of death and the fear it prompts. In terms of today’s Gospel, resurrection from the dead constitutes Christ’s ultimate healing. The fall was not merely the cause of physical death but also the cause of physical injury and illness.

Cistercians of Our Lady of Atlas Abbey, Algeria

By His death and resurrection, perhaps more than anything, Christ frees us from death and the fear of it. The importance of our freedom as God’s children is highlighted by Saint Paul’s repetition of this especially in his letters to the Galatians and the Romans.

Of Gods and Men is a 2011 movie about the Cistercian martyrs of Algeria. In the spring of 1996, nineteen monks from Our Lady of Atlas in Tibhirine, Algeria, were abducted, tortured, and killed by Islamic extremists in the spring of 1996. In 2018, Pope Francis declared these 19 monks as “Blesseds,” the penultimate step before sainthood.

There is a scene in the film that serves as a beautiful example for the major theme of our readings for today. In the scene, Brother Luc, who is a medical doctor and a monk, provides medical services for the almost exclusively Muslim inhabitants of Tibhirine, Algeria, tells his abbot that he is committed to remaining at the monastery despite the danger of being killed by Islamic extremists or by the Algerian army.

“Throughout my career,” Frérè Luc tell his abbot, “I’ve met all sorts of different people. Including Nazis and even the devil.” He continues, “I’m not scared of terrorists, even less of the army. And I’m not scared of death. I’m a free man.”¹ A bit later in the film, Brother Luc is shown embracing a mural of Jesus on the cross, the true sign of his freedom.

This is what is it looks like to live in what Saint Paul a few verses on in Romans 8 calls “the glorious freedom of the children of God.”²

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1 Scene from Of Gods and Men. ^↩
2 Romans 8:21.^↩

"Most Merciful God, we humbly confess..."

Gospel: Luke 18:9-14

Today's readings are an embarassment of riches. Well, we live in a new guilded age complete with robber barons. And so, the phrase "embarassment of riches" means little-to-nothing to many people. Nonetheless, let's use some of these treasures of wisdom and truth.

One doesn't have to be too attentive to realize that at its heart Christianity is a religion of paradox. Yes, I mean r-e-l-i-g-i-o-n, which is not a bad word!. It is worth adding that true religion doesn't just lead to relationship, it is relationship, that is, communion.

The paradoxical nature of being Christian is brought into full relief by Christ Himself at the end of today's Gospel when He clearly teaches that those who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves, or let themselves be humbled, will be exalted.

The kenotic hymn found in the second chapter of Saint Paul's Letter to the Philippians holds that Christ the Lord "humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross," which is precisely why He was exalted!¹.

This hymn brings together the paradox found in today's Gospel with the major Christian paradox: by seeking to save your life you lose it and it is by losing your life for Christ's sake, or after the pattern of Christ, that you save it.

There is a thread that runs through the narrative of Philip Roth's novel Sabbath's Theater that helps flesh this message out: "Whoever imagines himself to be pure is wicked!" Speaking of the Pharisee and the tax collector respectively, Jesus says "the latter went home justified, not the former."²

The Pharisee remains unjustified because he cannot, meaning he is utterly, even ontologically, incapable, of justifying himself. Conversely, it is the tax collector, who knows he cannot justify himself, who leaves justified, not just "in the sight of God" but by God. What is required is true repentance, taking a good, hard look at your life and the ways you fall short. It's strange to me that such a suggestion, even among Christians, is now seen as an affront.

Today's Gospel reading is another of those parables only found in Saint Luke's Gospel. The central figure in each of these parables is the Gentile, the unclean person, the person deeply aware of his own flaws. These are those who gain divine favor, who do the right thing, who are apppropriately (i.e., deeply) grateful. In short, it is a Samaritan or a tax collector, not not the member of God's chosen people, but the outsider.

During his papacy, Pope Francis took aim at a certain forms of Catholic pharisaism, which not only still persist but seem to be catching. It's a works based righteousness. As with the Pharisees of old (i.e., the scrupuously observant Jews, especially those who looked down on others), Francis' criticisms along these lines didn't land well with many members of the clergy and laity alike. But then truth rarely does, especially in our post-truth/alternative fact era. Increasingly, it seems we can't handle the truth.

Christianity is lived in either the first person plural or the first person singular. Weirdly, despite it being an attempt to make us face ourselves, this parable almost always puts the listener in mind of someone other than himself. Realzing this should have the effect of a "'Gotcha!'"

What the tax collector uttered, while being so deeply aware of his own unworthiness that he couldn't even lift his gaze heavenwward, became the core of what is now known as the Jesus Prayer, the most incisive iteration of which is- "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me the sinner."³

When it comes to rightousness, making another person the basis of your comparison is damnably silly. No matter how righteous or "pure" s/he might be, that person is flawed, sinful in some respect. Even Saint Paul urges ancient Christians in Corinth to imitate him only to the extent he imitated Christ.⁴ When it comes to holiness, righteousness, purity, Jesus Christ is the measure.

I have Good News and bad news. Bad news first: on your own, try as you might, you'll never measure up, ever, not in a million billion years! Being truly human Jesus Christ measured up. But, being truly God, He had no need to do so for Himself. He measured up for you and for me as well as anyone who would believe in Him and repent.

Repentance means ever so much more than merely being sorry for one's sins- though that is the beginning. To repent means committing to change and recognizing you need God's help to do so.

What do you do in confession except judge yourself in order to humble yourself? What else do you do in making your Act of Contrition in confession other than say, "Lord Jesus Christ, be merciful to me, a sinner"? Blessed, indeed, are the in the poor in spirit.

In our Collect for this Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time, we implore God to "increase our faith, hope, and charity, and make us love what you command, so that we may merit what you promise."⁵ While God's grace elicits and even actively solicits our cooperation, faith, hope, and charity, being theological virtues, are gifts from God, which is a way of saying these are graces.

It is by loving what God commands that one can "merit" what God promises. What does God command? Loving Him with your entire being and loving your neighbor as you love yourself. You have to love loving. You can do this because you were first loved.⁶

What, then, does God promise? Eternal life. Eternal life, too, is a gift. But like all gifts, it must be accepted. A gift not accepted isn't a gift.

Bear in mind that eternal life isn't the life the starts at mortal death. It begins when you die and rise with Christ through Baptism by the power of the Holy Spirit. It comes about through faith, which is a prerequisite for being baptized. Eternal life is life in the Spirit. It is the Spirit that enables the faithful to make God's kingdom a present reality.

New life starts with a death. Kill your pride before it kills you.

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1 See Philippians 2:5-11.^↩
2 Luke 18:14.^↩
3 Luke 18:13.^↩
41 Corinthians 11:1.^↩
5 Roman Missal. Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time.^↩
6 1 John 4:10.^↩