April 2006 Archives

Here's another gem from Ratzinger's Pierced One.

The Eucharist is never merely an event a deux, a dialogue between Christ and me. The goal of eucharistic communion is a total recasting of a person's life, breaking up a man's whole "I" and creating a new "We." Communion with Christ is of necessity a communication with all those who are his: it means that I myself become part of this new "bread" which he creates by transubstantiating all earthly reality.

My bishop once made the observation that when people receive communion, their relationship with each other, objectively, changes. For when they walked in they were ordinary people. But now that they have received the body blood sould and divinity of Christ, they have a whole new way of relating to each other. Their interpersonal relationship changes because their individual identities change. The man's whole "I" gives way to a new "We." So when we relate to each other as we exit the sanctuary, whereas the interaction previously was mortal to mortal, now it has become Christ to Christ.

Thus it is not merely the bread and wine on the altar that changes. The grace and action of Christ actually (Ratzingers phrasing here is great) transsubstantiates all earthly reality. The Mass changes the world! It changes our very selves. So next time we go to Mass, let's remember that, by this food that is stronger than us, it is we ourselves who will be transubstantiated.

From Behold the Pierced One, by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger.

Normal food is less strong than man, it serves him, is taken into his body to be assimilated and to build it up. But this special food, the Eucharist, is above man and stronger than man. Consequently the whole process involved is reversed: the man who eats this bread is assimilated by it, taken into it; he is fused into this bread and becomes bread, like Christ himself.

These words are awesome. It is easy to forget the mystery and sheer power of the Eucharist to truly transform a person, to elevate him, to make him into something greater than he now is. We are taken up into Christ, so that the drives that motivate him begin to motivate us as well.

It is like St Paul said in II Corinthians 5:17, "The old has passed away; behold the new has come." Our old self-centered desires and motivations, when we eat the food that is greater than is, become overwhelmed and uprooted, and the ecstasy of self-forgetful love is planted in its place.

Here's another great gem from Sheen:

If we want our forest, we must keep our trees. If we want our perfume, we must keep our flowers. If we want our rights and liberties, we must keep our God.

The ultimate problem with secular humanism is that it dismisses the very first premise that establishes the rights and liberties that secular humanists themselves claim to hold so dear. It claims that rights do not come from any source that is greater than human. But if they do not come from a source that is greater than human, then from where do they come? They cannot come from nowhere, for from nothing nothing comes. If we say that they come from human society, then the rights have not a sufficient foundation. For a society which gives away rights can just as easily take them back, as history has amply demonstrated.

Here's a nifty quote from Archbishop Sheen that I heard on the radio a couple nights ago.

It is when you know the truth about a car that you are free to drive it. It is when you know the truth about a piano that you are free to play it. It is when you know the truth about life, that you are free to live it.

From a recent letter by Bishop John M Darcy of the Diocese of Fort Wayne / South Bend, Indiana (the home of the University of Notre Dame):

Young people are idealistic. John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI, in his recent visit to Cologne, have nourished this Christian idealism, and asked all of us to serve these young people and never let them settle for anything less than an unselfish and devoted life, and such unselfishness will only last when it is rooted in faith. They rightly look to us and to our institutions to live by faith. It is the very best thing we can give them. Without it, we fail them.

THANK YOU BISHOP DARCY! This is the best articulation I have yet seen of the call to the perfection of Christian holiness, aside of course from the Holy Fathers to whom he refers. By making explicit this simple defense of the level of holiness and commitment for which many young people strive, he has assured me and others that there is nothing wrong with really striving to be exceptional as a Christian.

So cheers to never becoming jaded, never settling for less, and always being at least at heart, "young and idealistic." For it's not just uneducated younglings like you and me, dear readers: it's our Papas too!

Anyone read about what the Holy Father said earlier today to the Pontifical Biblical Commission? I heard about it on Relevant Radio on the way home from work. (This news made me smile, which is why I don't mind talking about it.)

Here's some of what Zenit said about it:

In receiving love "that comes from God, … man's freedom finds its highest realization," the Holy Father continued. "God's law does not attenuate much less eliminate man's freedom; on the contrary, it guarantees and promotes it."

For Benedict XVI, "the moral law, established by God in creation and confirmed in the revelation of the Old Testament, finds in Christ its fulfillment and grandeur."

"Jesus Christ is the way of perfection, the living and personal synthesis of the perfect freedom in the total obedience of the will of God," he said.

Because of this, "the original function of the Ten Commandments is not abolished by the encounter with Christ, but leads it to its plentitude," the Pope added.

Obedience? God's law? The key to freedom? No way!

For my penance today the priest actually told me to pray for freedom (and peace). Kinda neat that the Holy Father comes out with these reflections on the subject today. To pray for freedom is to pray for obedience to the will of God. I actually said to Him in doing my penance, "Keep me close to you, for you are the source of freedom, and of peace."

This is the great secret that the Church has been shouting from the rooftops, that God is the sole source of all real joy and peace and freedom in the universe. To be close to him, is to be at peace, to be happy, and to be free.

Here's a happy tale. Does this remind anyone else of St Francis?

I just want to say that the Sacrament of Confession is awesome. What a gift from the Man Upstairs. It's like surgery, or a hot shower. I'm reminded of a talk I once attended by theology professor Douglas Bushman, in which he talked about Martin Luther's concept of God's love. He said:

In the Lutheran concept of God's love, man is a dung heep. And God's love is a snow that descends over the dung heep and covers it up. Now this may sound scandalous, but I have no interest whatsoever in that kind of love. When I walk into a doctor's office with cancerous tumors all up and down my arms, I don't want a doctor who's going to put a sweater over me and tell me problem solved. I want a doctor who's gonna take the pain away.

He then told the story of a visit that he once made to a doctor, for that purpose. When he went in to see the doctor he found out in the course of their small talk that the doctor had a keen interest in the writings of Thomas Aquinas. In fact, the doctor was able to illuminate passages that up to that point Mr Bushman found quite obscure. Upon discovering this, their relationship went from a doctor-patient acquaintance to a mutual friendship.

This is rather like our relationship with God. I know that when I first go to God, I do so because I need someone to take the pain away. And I know he's the only one who can. But when I go to him with my pains and anxieties, I discover that there is really so much more to him than the mere utilitarian function of healer. He is not just our doctor, he is our friend and our Father. The one who gives life to us. We discover that there is so much more love to be experienced, so much more truth to swim around in.

"Let us then pursue what leads to peace and to building up one another." ><>Romans 13:19

The best retreats that I have been on have been the ones that include retreatants and staff getting together to do what's called "affirmations." Some people don't much like them because the structure of the situation makes the exercise feel somewhat contrived and pretentious. But I like them because I think having the exercise there recognizes a problem that has existed in Christian communities for a long time, namely, a lack of props.

If there are not a whole lot of "kudos" getting tossed around in a Christian community, a Catholic parish, then something is greatly amiss. It is not that we should ignore the many problems that exist in the Chruch. But if people started their conversations, or their relationships in general, with affirmation rather than immediately leaping into ideology, we would at least be highlighting what we fundamentally agree upon, namely: that we wish to pursue the love of Christ.

I don't know about anyone else, but the most fulfilling Christian relationships I have aren't the ones where I banter intellectually, as much as I enjoy that. They're the ones that involve shared experiences of mission and ministry. Because when the focus is the mission, nothing else matters. It's all about the goal of bringing Christ into the lives of those to whom we are ministering. And to really work together and do that, affirmation is not an option: it's a prerequisite.

Jesus, make me a man of love. Make me simple. Remove from me all interest in noteriety. Remove from me all desire for recognition. Make me a man of levity, a man who is free to love. Make me a man of serenity, a man who smiles sincerely and easily. Center my desires on the good of my fellows, my sisters and brothers in your Body. Make me a courier of your divine love. Amen.

Love is the end puspose of all things. Everything points to love. Even suffering points to love when it is endured with simplicity and holiness. Death, even death points to love, by its transience and impotence. By losing the battle with love, death points to love as the final end. Love humbles death, gives death its proper place and meaning. A champion of love then is a prophet to the impermanence of death, the good news of life, the life that never ends, the life of Christ who is Love incarnate.

Okay, I'm shifting gears.

I've decided not to look at the news or write anything news-related from now until next Friday. The only exception is that if I'm looking at news, it has to be good news. And by good I mean happy. My hope is that this will liven my mood from the general malaise that I find seems to pervade the mainstream press. Therefore, I will focus on timeless truths for the next week and look at the news only to the extent that it helps me to meditate on those timeless truths.

Republicans are already on pretty thin ice with Catholic voters, and it doesn't help when one of their governors signs into law a bill turning Hawaii from the Aloha State to the Abortion State. The more they waver on this issue, the more they're going to upset the people responsible for giving them majorities in the first place.

Here's what Fr Thomas J Euteneuer, president of Human Life International, had to say about the dibacle.

For the last several days, Catholics have been subjected to a flurry of internet and mainstream press innuendo over the possibility that the Catholic Church will alter its heretofore simple and clear teaching on contraception to allow condoms in order to prevent the spread of AIDS. It's a smokescreen, folks. Plain and simple.

I've been thinking a lot about my decision lately. One thing you learn by going through a discernment process like this, is that every priest leaves something behind so he can become a priest. Maybe a good career, or a romance. Every priest has a past, something that is in his heart that only he knows about. And maybe at night when he's by himself he thinks about it, he goes back to the time in his life before his name started with "Father." It's the part of himself that he has to let go of because now his life is the mission. Now he's out there for everyone else. He's the servant.

One of my readers replied to "Benedict Year One" saying that the DaVinci Code is a good novel so long as one understands that it is fiction and none of the “facts” presented such as the nature of Opus Dei or the secret of Mary Magdalene are actually true. I can respect that. I’m sure the novel is very suspenseful and well-composed; otherwise it wouldn’t be all the rage today.

But my sisters and brothers, if you’re looking for some more well-composed, edge-of-your-seat mythology, check out the May issue of Glamour Magazine. Tell ya what, folks, this is great storytelling! For example, check out the article entitled “The new lies about women’s health.” (WARNING: This link contains a startling and borderline pornographic image of a woman's backside.) It’s a harrowing tale about how evil Christian pro-lifers seek to impose their morality on the rest of humanity by twisting the arms of politicians and distorting scientific research. So to the rescue come the noble “free spirits” at Glamour and Planned Parenthood etc to expose the lies. Will the Pro-Choice Freedom Fighters beat back the pathological Bible-thumping liars? You’ll just have to read and find out.

Here's one from allAfrica.com about entitled "Botswana: No Condoms, We're Catholic."

Father John Corrigan of the Roman Catholic Church in Gaborone reveals that St. Joseph's clinic is both a mission clinic and a government- aided clinic. He then states that it functions according to the Roman Catholic Holy Act, which does not treat sex lightly.

Father John says that during this era of HV/AIDS pandemic, the church encourages a new message to the youth - "practice safe sex".

"Sex is a secret and holy act that is meant to be a gift from God to husband and wife. However, with young people engaging in pre-marital sex, we encourage safe sex under two conditions. Don't get AIDS. Don't get pregnant," he says.

This story comes down from The Catholic News Service:

Bishop Edward K. Braxton of Belleville, Ill., speaking to Catholic educators in Atlanta April 18, cited four areas where a new apologetics is needed: to counter what he called "the new atheism"; to use during times of "human suffering and the search for meaning"; to understand "the rapid growth of Islam and the uniqueness of Christianity"; and to realize "the priority of Scripture and tradition."

One year ago I and my like-aged friends got to witness our first papal election and introduction. John L Allen, Rome correspondent for the National Catholic Reporter, published a lengthy piece yesterday focusing on what has happened in Benedict's papacy since then. Allen writes:

Job no. 1 of this pontificate, therefore, is the reassertion of objective truth in a culture often allergic to the very concept. The beating heart of his pontificate can be expressed in three core concepts: truth, freedom and love. Truth, as the pope sees it, is the doorway a human person must walk through in order to be really free, meaning free to realize one’s full human potential; and love is both the ultimate aim of freedom, and the motive for which the church talks about truth and freedom in the first place.

Yesterday morning I had a dentist appointment. It was probably the most successful dentist appointment I have ever had. No cavities, strong gums, and minimal discomfort. But the lady who was cleaning my teeth, God bless her, it was the second time I've had her and we basically had the same conversation as last time. The topic: the possibility of married priests.

I was once complained to that "all the good guys go to seminary." What makes them such "good guys" is that they have an understanding of what it means to be selfless enough to really sacrifice one's own desires. Too many men today go into romantic relationships hoping to "get what they want." Indeed this is the source of much female cynicism: that men "only have one thing on their minds." It is obvious that men who go into seminary to discern a lifelong celibate vocation in service to the community do not fit that mold.

The Catholic religious group Opus Dei is suing the makers of the upcoming DaVinci Code movie to have a disclaimer included in the film saying that it is a work of fiction. Great idea, although it won't make me any more inclined to see the film. Now, if this was a two-hour film about how Opus Dei is a paragon of righteousness and the Church is the Pillar of Truth and Christ actually did die and rise and Mary Magdalene was a celibate saint, that movie I'd go see opening night.

And how about this: at the end of the above-described film we could have our own little disclaimer, maybe saying the following--

Everything you have just seen in this film is true. However some years ago, an anti-Catholic, self-important pseudo-historian wrote a catalogue of irrelevant binge seeking to malign everything just now shown here. It was recently made into a film which will soon be available in the drama section of your local video store, even though it would probably be better suited to the comedy section.

I attended Holy Thursday Mass, the Mass of the "Last Supper" this evening. Afterwards, I stayed for some time and knelt before Christ in the reserved area in which He is kept until Easter Vigil. I found myself praying for Jesus. Asking God to give Him the strength to endure His upcoming trials. I yearned to help Jesus in His hour of need. I wanted to be part of the cup the Angel gave to Him during the Agony in the Garden that helped Him to continue. I felt empathy for my Lord and Savior, who is also man. As a man we can prayer for Him like any other man right? I have never thought of this before, I don't think it's wrong, but I'm not sure. During this time when we remeber His Passion, I just want to do all I can to bring help to my Lord. Prayer is retroactive, outside of time, right?
Most Holy Father, I ask that my meek and humble attempt to bring Your Son some consolation and strength through prayer, during His most trying and difficult hour, may be meet with a Father's loving open arms. I just want to help Him so, I know He must endure this Passion, just let Him know I care, sinner that I am, I love Him and want to do all I can to help.

The Holy Easter Triduum is upon us, the holiest of the holy days. It's a time for us to do as we will hear in the readings at the Good Friday service, "They will look upon him whom they have pierced."

That is what all the Catholic faithful do on Good Friday. We look on him whom “they” have pierced. Who is “they”? The difficult reality of which I am reminded each year at this time is that it was not Judas, or Peter, or the Pharisees, or the Roman soldiers who pierced Jesus Christ. It is me. It is all of us who are called to be his followers. The sheep have not merely wandered outside the shepherd's care: they have attacked him.

It is a mystery, at least to me, what force is at work here, when the sheep pierce their shepherd. Ultimately we know from revelation that it is a thing called “original sin.” It's the mutation of our human desires into something less than human, less than holy. It is that we have lost the ability to discern what will truly bring us happiness, and thus become convinced that in order to truly be happy, we must flee from the One who created and loves and sustains us in existence. Not only that we must flee from him, but that we must erase him from our lives altogether.

We live in a society that for some time has tried this approach. It is what John Paul II called the “culture of death” and Benedict XVI the “dictatorship of relativism.” A culture which indulges its passions and whims in pursuit of whatever scraps of happiness can be found before tomorrow brings death to all.

But what we find is that all the material joys in the world in the end leave only a bitter taste in the mouth without a deeper contentment, and believing as these cultures do that no deeper contentment exists, a drab despair sets in--a sort of malaise that is the antithesis of hope, and with which is conjoined the greatest virtue love's antithesis: not hate, but indifference.

Indeed the source of so many social ills of our day I would suggest is not hate, but indifference. Many are those who are pierced today by this indifference, by this apathy. It is indifference to the Mary Magdalenes of our day that makes it possible for us to objectify women. It is indifference to the unwed mothers of our day that makes it possible to walk away from them. It is indifference to the pre-born infants that makes it possible for us to turn a blind eye as they are annihilated in droves.

It is indifference that makes us walk down a city street and never notice the poorest of the poor. And who are they? It is not just the guitar-playing, cig-smoking transients perched in the crevices of the city. They are hungry for food and shelter and justice to be sure. But there is a greater hunger--a veritable emaciation--shared with them by the well-to-do educated elites that pass them by each day (and I am no exception to this). It is the need for that deeper contentment, the God-shaped vacuum in every human heart. It is the thirst for the Way, the Truth, and the Life. It is a hunger for “him whom they have pierced.” But to really take on the life of the One Pierced there first must be conquered the very vice that pierces him, namely, indifference.

If we are to be filled with the joy and peace of God for which we hunger, we must choose to never be again indifferent. We must choose to heal the wounds of others, who are Christ in disguise. We must choose to protect the weakest and most defenseless among us, the baby Jesus' of this world. We must choose to care, and to serve, and to love, as Christ did.

But something is holding us back. We are hesitant. Why? What stops us on a daily basis from breaking down the walls of apathy?

Just as Christ is the example of the one who refuses indifference, he is also the example of the consequences we may expect if we so refuse. Because everyone mattered to Jesus. The gentiles, the pagans, the lepers, the sinners, they all received the unflinching love of Christ. It was precisely that refusal on the part of Christ to ignore these outcasts and underclasses that so upset the leaders of his religious tradition. It was that very refusal to be indifferent, that very commitment to really love the poor, that caused him to be pierced in the first place.

And so we are confronted with the great conundrum of the Christian life: that the greatest joy in the world, the joy of loving God and loving neighbor without hesitation, without fear, requires that we, like Christ, allow ourselves to be pierced. In a world marked by sin, there can be no love for God that does not entail suffering. How many of us hold back from speaking out on behalf of the defenseless, hesitate to serve the poor for fear of being persecuted or taken advantage of?

We fear not only those sufferings but even the slightest discomforts. As I went through the application process for seminary, I had to have blood drawn for tests. My veins were difficult to find and I was poked several times in both arms. And how impressed I was with myself! “I must really want to go to seminary,” I told my friends. As if a poke in the arm was some great sacrifice on my part. As a society we are afraid of needles. The Christian life radically invites us to brave the nails.

Conversely, as a society we are content with the measliest pleasures. We sip from the teacup of materialism and greed. The Christian life radically invites us to drink from the river of resurrection and new life.

This Easter, let's accept that invitation. Let us embrace the whole gambit of downs and ups and sufferings and joys of the Christian life. For what we discover when we choose to no longer be indifferent, to love without hesitation, is that the nails of the Christian life become as needles, and the teacup of measly pleasures overflows into the river of resurrection. Amen.

I'm a pretty hard-and-fast, black-and-white, straight-and-narrow kind of a guy. I don't believe in excuse-making or gray areas. I believe in the teachings of the Church, just about all of them, and if I disagree with the teachings of the Church in some area I usually try to assume for my own sake that the Church is wiser than I am.

It's often the hardest teachings of the Church that I endorse most whole-heartedly, the kind that some folks don't necessarily want to talk about or know about. I believe that the teachings of the Church point the way concretely to love, and oftentimes those teachings can appear counterintuitive or even mean to us, but that just means we have to be "transformed by the renewal of our minds," to try to come as close as we can to understanding and believing these difficult teachings. I am a firm believer in these doctrines in their entirety and if anyone in the room voices a disagreement with the Church that teaches them under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and I say nothing, it's because I'm keeping my mouth shut.

All of the above describes my belief in my head and in my heart. But there's a third factor, and that's the one that is the most difficult for any Christian, at least, Christians like me, to corral into the stable of faith. And that's my will. No matter how strongly I believe in my head and in my heart what the Church teaches about how to do the right thing, time and time again I fail to do it. Sometimes I feel like on a good day all that happens is I fail to do the right thing. The bad days are when not only do I fail to do what's right, but I end up doing what's wrong. And like I said, I don't make excuses, at least not for myself.

People, especially priests, tell me all the time that I shouldn't beat up on myself and they're probably right, but it's frustrating. I've at times even felt like it's a form of schizophrenia. Think about it. You're up, you're down, you're good, you're bad, you're faithful, but then you're doubting. As your will goes, so goes your body, and so goes your mind: you're changing it all the time. It's like two different persons. The single greatest source of doubt for me in my spiritual life is my sinfulness. If all of this is true, if everything that Christ and His Church teach about love is true, if it's true that I'm supposed to live this way, then why can't I? Of course the answer is that I can, but I simply choose not to. But that just changes the question. If it is true that this is the best way to live, then why do I choose time and time again not to?

St Paul wrote about this situation in Romans 7, and we see it throughout the readings coming up this Palm Sunday. In the opening gospel the people are singing Jesus' praises. In the first reading from Isaiah the prophet is absolutely confident in God. "The Lord God is my help, therefore I am not disgraced; I have set my face like flint, knowing that I shall not be put to shame."

But then immediately in the Psalm we are faced with the well-known message, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" We go from iron-clad trust in God to wondering where he's shimmied off to. Then we're presented with the image of Christ himself, the conclusive answer to that question, for he is "Immanuel," "God with us." The reading proclaims that "at the name of Jesus, every knee should bend." Is that what happens?

Our answer comes in the next reading, the Gospel. It is the Passion and Death of Jesus Christ as told by the Evangelist Mark. The people in the gospels read this Sunday go from "Hosanna in the highest!" to "Crucify him!" Sound familiar? The gospels are not merely a historical recounting of the events surrounding the death of Christ. God uses those events to tell the story of the struggle of fallen humanity, the struggle that takes place inside of everyone.

Is it possible to live a life that is really righteous? I have to believe in hope that the answer is yes. And the reason again lies in the gospel to be read this Sunday. One phrase I hear often but wholly disagree with is the phrase, "I can't help it; I'm human." The fact that we are human is not a sufficient explanation for our sinfulness, in fact it is our humanity that is the very reason we ought not to be sinful. For Jesus was human par excellence. All a human person is is a psychosomatic union created in the image and likeness of God possessing intellect and free will. That's all a human is. Sinfulness is in no way a constitutive element of humanity. Sinfulness did not enter the human picture until Genesis 3. All else already existed in Genesis 1. It is not that in Genesis 1 human beings were not human. It is that they were not fallen.

The problem today is that we are fallen. How do we get back up? The answer again comes from the gospel. It is through Jesus that we are raised out of our sinful nature. And it is not that we become superhuman. It is that we are raised from corruption to the pure humanity that God fashioned from "the beginning." For by "dying he destroyed our death, rising he restored our life." Jesus' death and resurrection makes it really possible for us to live as he lived, if we are baptized into his death and resurrection.

But then again I am confronted with my experience of life. With the fact that I have tried to grab hold of that grace for myself and have never been able to. For all the tricks I have ever tried, all the prayers I have ever prayed, all the penances I have ever made, I have never found that ultimate righteousness. The kind of righteousness that never exhausts itself. How can one really live this way?

It's a question I can't answer fully at this stage in life. But if there's anything I can say now, I think part of the answer lies in recognizing that grace is only given and received. It cannot be taken. So we as receivers of grace have to allow God to give the grace himself. Put another way, we have to surrender the struggle for righteousness to him. It's kind of like the "Happy Place." Before we can begin to do better we have to stop beating up on ourselves. And in order to stop beating up on ourselves, we have to allow Jesus to love us.

That's the key. We have to allow Jesus to love us. For any sin we commit is effectively a decision not to allow Jesus to love us. Therefore in order for actions to really bear fruit, in order for us to be able to perform them in a tireless way and to avoid sin in a tireless way as Jesus did, then all we do must spring from the desire to allow Jesus to love us. To surrender the struggle for righteousness to him. It is the key not only to sanctity, but at an even more basic level, to sanity.

Before I start, these are my personal thoughts; I do not speak for the church or for anyone except myself.

I've been struggling lately with the effect sin has on God. How does my sin hurt or offend God. He's all powerful, why does it hurt him when I curse, or lie, or anything. Especially if I'm not doing anything to hurt someone else, why would that offend God? I realized tonight, that it hurts God when we sin, because it ends up causing ourselves pain, and it hurts God to see His children in pain and anguish. I would put forth the proposition that all problems in the world boil down to: a problem, conflict, hindrance, to achieving the simple desire of all human beings to love and be loved. Sin is at the root of all the crap that keeps us from properly loving others and being loved by others. All the pain and hurt and anguish in the world is because we can't properly love. This pain and hurt, pains our Lord beyond comprehension. He wants us to love and be loved. When we lie, we are breaking trust which is a necessity of intimacy which is vital to love. When we have premarital sex, we are partaking of something which we think is a route to love, but when we have not proclaimed our love and fidelity to the other before God and public, we are not allowing for true intimacy, which fosters the fullness of love. We seek sex as an easy way to intimacy, when it is just a false intimacy outside of marriage. All sins offend God, because they infringe upon our ability to be intimate with Him and others, which destroys our ability to love God and others. When He forgives us, He is restoring that intimacy. What is more intimate then bringing oneself before another, and making yourself vulnerable by admitting guilt and asking for forgiveness. This is why we speak our sins out loud to a priest. This is also why in order to truly restore relationships with others who are not God, we must confess, repent and ask forgiveness from them. Only then can we restore intimacy and true love with others.

Jesus suffered the agony of the passion; His brutal torture up to and on the cross, because He would rather endure that agony over and over for eternity, then see us destroy ourselves by destroying our relationship with Him and others through sin, with no recourse to forgiveness, no way of being brought back into the intimacy of His unconditional Love.

Thank You Lord, Jesus. Help me to always Love You, to remain in Your intimate wounds, to never forget Your Love and what you have done for me, so I can receive You Love perfectly.

At St. Meinrd's Archabbey, they celebrate the Easter Vigil a little different than most of us are used to. I modified the following on a July 2005 post I made to Random Musings, my personal website.

The Vigil begins in the normal way shortly after nightfall. The Service of Light with the fire is as normal. The clergy with the people return to the church as normal except the lights remain off. The readings of the Old Testament are read, again as normal. After the 7th Old Testament reading, the vigil "ends". In a setting, like a retreat or an abbey, the people can return to their rooms or further explore what is available at the abbey. A few remain in the chapel (rotating?) to privately pray for the expected return of the Lord or chant psalms, etc while keeping watch. In one possible example, each of the 150 psalms would be read/sung/chanted over the course of a few hours.

After some time has passed, bells are rung (as to call the people to prayer). After the people have returned, someone approches the celebrant and says/sings something to the effect "Father- I have good news. Some of the women have been to the tomb and it is open. He is not there. Jesus Christ is risen!" In response, the priest intones the Gloria: "Glory to God in the highest!" The Gloria continues like normal as all the lights are raised and the candles are lit.

The Vigil Mass continues and concludes as normal.

I do not know if the current rubrics foresaw such an innovation; the Sacramentary is clear that the Vigil should not begin until after dark and should end before the first light of day.

Again, this is not suggested for virtually any situation; however, in limited circumstances, it could be a really beautiful liturgical event.

Building on that idea, I think it could be interesting to have a Triduum retreat. Retreantants would gather at their local church for Holy Thursday's Mass of the Lord's Supper with the entire community. After Mass, they meet together and begin the retreat. On Friday, they celebrate the Lord's Passion. On Saturday night, they celebrate the Easter Vigil. If their location and circumstances permit, the "extended" vigil above could be used.

In liturgy, the Church, as one body, prays in one voice to God. This is the greatest role of the Church in my opinion. The Catechism speaks of the primacy of the conscience and while the Church has a very large role in helping us develop our conscience, it is only that: a helping role. Private and public devotions– rosaries, chaplets, scapulars, praise and worship, etc&emdash; are confirmed and promoted by the Chruch in many cases.

The Liturgy, however, is something maintained by the Church. Its growth and evolution is molded by the Church. It is uniform throughout the world; even when rites, languages or motions differ, the Liturgy is still uniform through the action of the minister of God acting on behalf of God. It is the Church's duty and obligation to perserve the Liturgy.

His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, speaking before his election, said "The real 'action' in the liturgy in which we are all supposed to participate is the action of God himself. This is what is new and distinctive about the Christian liturgy: God himself acts and does what is essential."

The Power and the Glory (Penguin Twentieth-Century Classics)

by Graham Greene, John Updike

I found this book to be a quick read that I found to be thought provoking. I've heard much about this work before sitting down and reading it. I expected the internal conflict within the priest to be greater than what it was. His struggle, while very real, was a struggle between his thought and his action. His thought did not seem to battle itself–he seemed clear that he was a bad priest, that is, a horrible priest not worthy of the title. However, through his actions, he helped the faith of the people whom he admitted he failed in saving.

Looking at the whole of the book, it reminds us that martyrs may not be the ones you expect. Those who are completely unsure of his place in life or of his faith may be asked to sacrifice it all. Those who continue the walk of Christ despite the painful death it will cause is a martyr. They may be lacking in faith and devotion, but there is something holy in the unexpected martyr that, in many cases, speaks loudly to people facing the same crisis of faith.

The work is very good, but I cannot give it five stars. To get five stars, a book has to keep me thinking about it days after I finish reading it. This one was close, but not quite.

$14.00

We sometimes speak of a place that we go to in order to get away from our problems, or not so much to get away from them, but to put them in perspective. Going to this place really is an implicit admission that there is very little we can do in any immediate sense to conclusively solve our problems. We sometimes call this place a "retreat," I've also heard it termed a "good stop."

Lately I've been enamored of the phrase "happy place." That's the popular cultural phrase for it. And that's the phrase that came to my mind today.

Question for the readers: Have you ever had a person who was a happy place for you? I have. Quite recently actually. I will explain the concept of a person as a happy place now, although anyone who has ever had a person for a happy place will be able to just as easily tell me as vice versa.

Here's the scenario: your life sucks. You're not even really sure why it sucks. You're just in sort of a funk--you've become distinctly aware of the fact that you make mistakes and that you're not perfect and people, friends of yours, have called you on it. So you're sitting there and you have all these things on your mind: your imperfections, your mistakes, your problems, all the things about your life that you wish were different.

And then, your happy place person shows up. That's all they even have to do really is show up. And when they show up, your problems just sort of go away. Not that they completely disappear, but they're all placed into this beautiful perspective. They're insignificance becomes breathtakingly obvious. Problems? These are huge problems that you have? You have love in your life. Look at this person. You are loved by at least one person in the world, this person.

You realize this, and just knowing that is enough to make you feel better about everything. You're no longer on edge. You're no longer depressed about these problems or your imperfections. You know you're not perfect. It's okay. Because there's this person in your life who loves you anyway. And knowing that this person loves you even though you're not perfect, that fact makes you want to be a better person, for them. And it's not because this person expects you to be perfect, it's because you have no reason not to want to be better. You see how much this person loves you and you want to love people like that. Before we can ever take steps to be better we have to stop beating up on ourselves. When this person shows up in your life it calms you down, and you stop beating up on yourself. And the Lord sayd, "Good. Now we can get started."

What I'm describing really is just what it is like when someone in the world really images Christ to us. Because Christ really is the ultimate happy place. He is the one who loves us in spite of our imperfections, in spite of our mistakes and weaknesses. He is the one who shows up when we are in that funk, and puts all of our huge problems into beautiful perspective, and shows us how small and insignificant all of them really are.

And it is that great knowledge, the knowledge of Christ's unconditional love for us, that actually makes us want to be better. Not because he won't love us otherwise, but precisely because he does anyway. And we, wanting to be as close to him, as close to his love as possible, choose freely to let him into our hearts, and to try to live our lives as much with his heart as we can.

In the Gospel for today, Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent, the crowds are debating who Jesus is—a Prophet or the Christ?

Some argue that Jesus is from Galilee and so he cannot be the Christ. Others argue that Jesus is the Christ.

The Gospel tells us that a division occured because of Jesus. Isn't this still true today?

Among ourselves, we argue and fight about who Jesus is. Within many circles, we grant that he was the Christ and the Savior of the world. Yet, in trying to figure out who he is, we act like he who isn't. We accuse each other; we become angry and bitter toward each other.

As a people of God, we have the call to holiness and the call to build one church. During this season of Lent, let's focus not on what divides us as people of faith, but focus on what joins us. By focusing on the positive, not the negative, we can have actual dialogue on what divides us. Through all of that, we advance toward holiness.