August 31, 2010
August 30, 2010
A Challenge From Blessed Mother Teresa
The other day on CNA there was an article in which Cardinal Comastri, the archpriest of St. Peter's basilica, recounted how Blessed Mother Teresa saved his priesthood. Fr. Z picked it up, and that's where I saw it. I was challenged by what I read:
Daily Mass, Liturgy of the Hours, and the rosary. That seems like it would be enough, no? That's at least a couple of hours out of a busy day. I'll confess that there are plenty of days when I don't pray much more than that, if even. But as a religious priest, I have to recognize Mass, Liturgy of the Hours, and rosary as a minimum of daily prayer. As a priest I have promised to pray the whole of the Office each day. As a religious, Canon Law enjoins up me that I make "every effort" to assist at Mass daily, and as a priest I am "earnestly invited" to offer Mass each day. Both Canon Law and the Constitutions of the Order recommend devotion to Our Lady as indispensable to the spirituality of a religious, so there you have the rosary.
Daily Mass, Liturgy of the Hours, and rosary: this is the minimum of prayer that makes me an 'unprofitable servant,' the servant who had done no more than what he was asked to do, or as he promised to do. If I really love my Master, if I want to be more than an indifferent servant in the household of God, I must love beyond this minimum.
Thank you, Mother, for the challenge.
"How many hours do you pray a day?" she asked.
In 1969-70, he recalled, the Church was in a time of "dispute," so thinking that it was "near heroism, then-Father Comastri explained to her that he said daily Mass in addition to praying the Liturgy of the Hours and the Rosary.”
To this, she responded flatly, "That's not enough.”
"Love cannot be lived minimally," she said, and then asked him to promise to do half an hour of adoration every day.
"I promised," said Cardinal Comastri, "and today I can say that this saved my priesthood."
Daily Mass, Liturgy of the Hours, and the rosary. That seems like it would be enough, no? That's at least a couple of hours out of a busy day. I'll confess that there are plenty of days when I don't pray much more than that, if even. But as a religious priest, I have to recognize Mass, Liturgy of the Hours, and rosary as a minimum of daily prayer. As a priest I have promised to pray the whole of the Office each day. As a religious, Canon Law enjoins up me that I make "every effort" to assist at Mass daily, and as a priest I am "earnestly invited" to offer Mass each day. Both Canon Law and the Constitutions of the Order recommend devotion to Our Lady as indispensable to the spirituality of a religious, so there you have the rosary.
Daily Mass, Liturgy of the Hours, and rosary: this is the minimum of prayer that makes me an 'unprofitable servant,' the servant who had done no more than what he was asked to do, or as he promised to do. If I really love my Master, if I want to be more than an indifferent servant in the household of God, I must love beyond this minimum.
Thank you, Mother, for the challenge.
August 29, 2010
18th Anniversary of Baptism
It was eighteen years ago today that I exited the Freeman dormitory by the back basement stairs and walked through the still-empty campus of Connecticut College to the edge of North Lot on my way to Williams St. and the little church of Our Lady of Perpetual Help in Quaker Hill. There I was baptized, and an odd and meandering ongoing journey--long hidden in God and only obscurely revealed to me--suddenly became my public life.
What did I think I was doing that day? Perhaps I imagined that I was putting to rest a question that I had long wondered about, i.e. what religion was I? I hardly realized that this was to frame the question all wrong; in fact I was trying to begin to surrender to a call that had always been there in some form. Have I progressed in that surrender after eighteen years? Most of the time I don't feel as if I have. In some ways I feel as though I have regressed! But none of that is the point. Who cares about me? This is a story about God, not Charles. Besides, Jesus came not to call the righteous, but sinners.
Perhaps I thought I was following the first tastes of the newly discovered horizon revealed in prayer. True enough, but I had not spent enough time in prayer to realize that these experiences called me so strongly because they hearkened back and resonated with certain confusing but attractive and intriguing interior experiences I routinely had as a small child. God had been there, a Mystery subtle and obscure on the one hand, but overwhelming and undeniable on the other.
If someone had been able to tell me what would become of my baptismal vocation, about all of the twists and turns and griefs and struggles up to this very day, I probably wouldn't have believed it. If I had, I might have feared to accept the sacrament. Sometimes it is an expression of God's mercy that we don't know what is to come. God knows knows that perhaps we can better accept our struggles for Him a little at a time, one day at a time.
What did I think I was doing that day? Perhaps I imagined that I was putting to rest a question that I had long wondered about, i.e. what religion was I? I hardly realized that this was to frame the question all wrong; in fact I was trying to begin to surrender to a call that had always been there in some form. Have I progressed in that surrender after eighteen years? Most of the time I don't feel as if I have. In some ways I feel as though I have regressed! But none of that is the point. Who cares about me? This is a story about God, not Charles. Besides, Jesus came not to call the righteous, but sinners.
Perhaps I thought I was following the first tastes of the newly discovered horizon revealed in prayer. True enough, but I had not spent enough time in prayer to realize that these experiences called me so strongly because they hearkened back and resonated with certain confusing but attractive and intriguing interior experiences I routinely had as a small child. God had been there, a Mystery subtle and obscure on the one hand, but overwhelming and undeniable on the other.
If someone had been able to tell me what would become of my baptismal vocation, about all of the twists and turns and griefs and struggles up to this very day, I probably wouldn't have believed it. If I had, I might have feared to accept the sacrament. Sometimes it is an expression of God's mercy that we don't know what is to come. God knows knows that perhaps we can better accept our struggles for Him a little at a time, one day at a time.
My fear was just a shadow
And then a voice spoke in my head
And she said, "Dark is not the opposite of light
It's the absence of light."
And I thought to myself
She knows what she's talking about
And for a moment I knew
What it was all about.
(Beastie Boys, "Namaste")
And then a voice spoke in my head
And she said, "Dark is not the opposite of light
It's the absence of light."
And I thought to myself
She knows what she's talking about
And for a moment I knew
What it was all about.
(Beastie Boys, "Namaste")
August 28, 2010
Lux Lucens Nova
In his cover letter to Summorum pontificum, Benedict XVI calls for a "mutual enrichment" of the older and newer forms of the Roman rite. Thanks for Fr. Z for pointing out this tremendous contribution to that end:
August 27, 2010
Monica as Intercessor
In one of my early assignments we had a little shrine to St. Monica in the public chapel. It was enormously popular. One doesn't have to spend much time in ministry to realize that a large proportion of the prayers of this world come out of the anxiety of mothers for their sons in trouble. St. Monica is the perfect intercessor for these intentions.
Another area for which I have recommended Monica as an intercessor is in the area of sexual purity. St. Augustine had his troubles in this area, as he freely admits, and chastity was a stumbling for him in his discernment of Catholic Christianity. Therefore, if we take seriously what we pray in the collect today, that God received Monica's tears for the conversion of her son (the current English translation about God being moved misses the mark a little bit) we must conclude that her prayers helped Augustine accept the grace of chastity.
St. Monica, pray for us.
Another area for which I have recommended Monica as an intercessor is in the area of sexual purity. St. Augustine had his troubles in this area, as he freely admits, and chastity was a stumbling for him in his discernment of Catholic Christianity. Therefore, if we take seriously what we pray in the collect today, that God received Monica's tears for the conversion of her son (the current English translation about God being moved misses the mark a little bit) we must conclude that her prayers helped Augustine accept the grace of chastity.
St. Monica, pray for us.
August 26, 2010
Water
This new friary where I live has had a lot of problems with water. Yesterday I got my first taste of it. In the afternoon I went down to the basement to take my little walk on the treadmill, and there it was. It didn't look like much, but it turned out to be almost twenty gallons by the time I had vacuumed most of it up. Just that little bit of water was trouble; I spent the time trying to pray for the people in the floods in Pakistan.
Water can be very destructive. It's heavy, gets dirty, and it ruins things beyond repair. It's a good reflection for us when we think about baptism. Just as the positive natural powers of water like cleansing and refreshment are present for us in the supernatural grace of baptism, so also the more frightening powers of water: in our baptism we are drowned, we go down into the death of Christ and the old Adam is left dead at the bottom of the Jordan. If his distractions and concupiscence come with us out of the water, that's on us; the original sin is gone, though its injuries remain as we try to recuperate through the life of prayer and the sacraments.
In the course of this journey of recuperation, whether we finish it here on earth or in purgatory, we are freed from the fear of bodily death. After all, we already dead.
Water can be very destructive. It's heavy, gets dirty, and it ruins things beyond repair. It's a good reflection for us when we think about baptism. Just as the positive natural powers of water like cleansing and refreshment are present for us in the supernatural grace of baptism, so also the more frightening powers of water: in our baptism we are drowned, we go down into the death of Christ and the old Adam is left dead at the bottom of the Jordan. If his distractions and concupiscence come with us out of the water, that's on us; the original sin is gone, though its injuries remain as we try to recuperate through the life of prayer and the sacraments.
In the course of this journey of recuperation, whether we finish it here on earth or in purgatory, we are freed from the fear of bodily death. After all, we already dead.
August 25, 2010
What About Islam?
For a long time I've been bothered by not knowing what to think about Islam. Current events are bringing it up for me once again.
On the one hand, it seems to me that there is a sense in which the confession of Christianity has to include a denial of the truth of Islam. The angel Gabriel announced the birth of Jesus Christ to Mary. Some centuries later he is said to have revealed the Qur'an to Muhammed. If I admit that this latter claim is true, even if I also accept the former, I ought to become a Muslim right now. If I go another day without converting to Islam, it seems to me that I'm denying that this revelation occurred. Either Gabriel came to Muhammed or he didn't. Perhaps I am simpleton in this regard, but I don't see any coherent way out of this dilemma.
So it would seem to me, in my own reflection, that there is no theological relationship between Christianity and Islam (in the sense that there is a theological relationship of Christianity to Judaism, not for example) However, I'm not ready to stand on this claim. Why? Because I look to the Church's teaching, and I don't know what to make of it. Nostra aetate, Vatican II's famous decree on non-Christian religions, has some nice things to say about Islam, but does not get at the question of a theological relationship, of a sense in which the existence of Islam might have meaning for Christianity (and hence for God.)
Lumen gentium 16 presents something harder:
The "propositum salutis," the plan, or design of salvation, which we read to be God's plan, seems to include Islam, at least according to Lumen gentium. As I described above, I'm not sure how to understand this myself, but it is what the Church seems to say.
Amplector is a rather interesting and suggestive verb in this text: amb, "around" plus plecto from the Greek, πλεκω, to twine, braid, or weave.
On the one hand, it seems to me that there is a sense in which the confession of Christianity has to include a denial of the truth of Islam. The angel Gabriel announced the birth of Jesus Christ to Mary. Some centuries later he is said to have revealed the Qur'an to Muhammed. If I admit that this latter claim is true, even if I also accept the former, I ought to become a Muslim right now. If I go another day without converting to Islam, it seems to me that I'm denying that this revelation occurred. Either Gabriel came to Muhammed or he didn't. Perhaps I am simpleton in this regard, but I don't see any coherent way out of this dilemma.
So it would seem to me, in my own reflection, that there is no theological relationship between Christianity and Islam (in the sense that there is a theological relationship of Christianity to Judaism, not for example) However, I'm not ready to stand on this claim. Why? Because I look to the Church's teaching, and I don't know what to make of it. Nostra aetate, Vatican II's famous decree on non-Christian religions, has some nice things to say about Islam, but does not get at the question of a theological relationship, of a sense in which the existence of Islam might have meaning for Christianity (and hence for God.)
Lumen gentium 16 presents something harder:
Sed propositum salutis et eos amplectitur, qui Creatorem agnoscunt, inter quos imprimis Musulmanos, qui fidem Abrahae se tenere profitentes, nobiscum Deum adorant unicum, misericordem, homines die novissimo iudicaturum.
But the plan of salvation also embraces those who know the Creator, among whom first are the Muslims, who profess to hold the faith of Abraham, with us adore the one, merciful God, and will judge the human race on the last day.
The "propositum salutis," the plan, or design of salvation, which we read to be God's plan, seems to include Islam, at least according to Lumen gentium. As I described above, I'm not sure how to understand this myself, but it is what the Church seems to say.
Amplector is a rather interesting and suggestive verb in this text: amb, "around" plus plecto from the Greek, πλεκω, to twine, braid, or weave.
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