All Your Sins?

Here's one that's been on my conscience. I'm curious to see what readers think.

Everyone knows the standard English formula of absolution:

God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, + and of the Holy Spirit.*

Over the years I've noticed that many confessors add an 'all' to this formula so that it becomes, ...I absolve you from all your sins... To be honest, I've always found this comforting and encouraging. Therein lies my problem. Should I add the 'all' to the formula myself, or not? If I appreciate it myself, is it not an easy matter of caring for a brother or sister as I would like to be cared for? Or is it better to be strict in praying according to the exact lex orandi of the Church?

Does the 'all' set up a penitent for temptations to despair if he then does not hear it from some confessor?

So what do you think? All or no all?


*Deus, Pater misericordiarum, qui per mortem et resurrectionem Filii Sui mundum Sibi reconciliavit et Spiritum Sanctum effudit in remissionem peccatorum, per ministerium Ecclesiae indulgentiam tibi tribuat et pacem. Et ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

Sorry about this, I couldn't resist:

Appreciating the Centurion

I've been on a tear with weddings this summer, having witnessed nine marriages over the last eleven weekends. The ordinary weekly rhythm of it has become part of my routine: rehearsal on Thursday night, wedding Saturday afternoon. They don't differ a whole lot; the people change, of course, but the roles and personalities stay more or less the same. What does vary a lot is the degree of difficulty in organizing and executing the ceremony. Some are very easy and well-planned; others not so much. So what makes for the difference?

The greatest difference is surely the degree of Catholic practice of the bride and groom and their families. I have had couples who assist at Sunday Mass without fail as well as couples that I don't think had been to church since their first Holy Communion, and everything in between. It's much easier to plan and pray through a liturgy with folks who have been part of the praying community to one degree or another.

But there's another factor that makes a big difference. For whatever reason, we do a lot of weddings for cops, firefighters, and military personnel. There's something about these folks that makes them easy to work with; perhaps it's that they're used to rules and expectations. I say that I need such and such paperwork by this day, and it appears. I lay down rules about what may or may not be done in church, and they obey. It makes me think of the centurion with the sick slave in the gospels, whose words will soon be gloriously restored to the English translation of the Mass:

When he entered Capernaum, a centurion approached him and appealed to him, saying, "Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully." He said to him, "I will come and cure him.The centurion said in reply, "Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.For I too am a person subject to authority, with soldiers subject to me. And I say to one, 'Go,' and he goes; and to another, 'Come here,' and he comes; and to my slave, 'Do this,' and he does it.When Jesus heard this, he was amazed and said to those following him, "Amen, I say to you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith. (Matthew 8:5-10)

It used to be that military service was considered a good preparation for religious life, though perhaps with the problems of decadence, New Ageism, and the general malaise in North American religious life this is less the case than it used to be. I'm thinking about all of this morning on the feast of St. Ignatius, who, like our holy father Francis, was a soldier before becoming a religious founder. For both of them, in different ways, their military service had a profound effect on the religious life they would inspire.

Ignatius, Francis, and all soldier-saints, pray for us.

Limbo?

Another of the friars and I were talking about limbo, the idea that there is some kind of eschatological destiny that corresponds to perfect natural happiness for the human person. This is opposed, of course, to the idea of heaven, which is perfect supernatural happiness.

At certain points in the history of Christian theological reflection, limbo served as a solution to two theological problems. First, where did the patriarchs, prophets, and righteous people of God of the old covenants await the resurrection they would receive in Christ? This is the so-called limbo of the fathers. Second, what becomes of infants who do not receive baptism through no fault of their own? Certainly God would not deny them a happy destiny! So perhaps there is a state on the "border" or limbus of hell, that corresponds to natural fulfillment, short of the supernatural fulfillment of heaven. This seems to have been the view of St. Thomas, though we have to say that Thomas was not always real good on eschatology; after all he didn't really want to accept the Immaculate Conception. And oh yes, the Immaculate Conception is a doctrine about eschatology and ultimate destiny.

Now folks will point out, quite correctly, that we don't talk about limbo anymore. Indeed, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, when it faces the question of unbaptized infants doesn't mention it all but holds out a well-founded and confident hope for their highest salvation.

But this doesn't mean that there is no such thing as limbo; doctrine is accurate to Truth, but it does not exhaust Truth. This is especially true when we are talking about something as difficult as the Last Things. Limbo remains a theological possibility. There are other things like this, theological possibilities that we don't talk about or teach because they are too unsure. For another example, I think it's entirely theologically possible that two or three presbyters (i.e. priests who aren't bishops) could ordain a layman a deacon, or ordain a deacon a priest. But we can't be so sure about this, so we don't put the validity of sacramental ministry in danger by doing such a thing.

For me, I don't have a problem accepting the idea of limbo. To me it sounds pretty good: a state of eternal, perfect happiness on the natural level for those who were denied baptism of water, desire, or blood through no fault of their own. It's not the perfect supernatural happiness of heaven which we begin to live in baptism, but it doesn't sound so bad.

Retreat Notes: From My Confessor

I'm always struck by confession with these Trappists. I have found them very wise and extraordinarily gentle.

Self-knowledge is part of asceticism, and so is always a good in the spiritual life. If your self-knowledge amounts to how wretched you are, then it won't seem like a step forward, but it really is because God meets us where we are, not in the imaginary self we think we want to be.

Every day is a new opportunity to wake up from sleep walking. That's the core of the ascetic invitation.

This is the retreat house chapel. Check out the dove-shaped tabernacle where the Most Blessed Sacrament is reserved, suspended above the altar.

Retreat Notes: Mary Magdalene

For her day today, I was praying with Mary Magdalene, especially through the gospel for her feast, John 20:11-18

"Mary stayed outside the tomb weeping." The beginning of prayer. We are left alone, and we lament before the empty tomb. What is our lament? Our compunction over our sins and distraction, and the obscuring of the presence of God we have brought upon ourselves. Contrition is the beginning of prayer.

As Mary addresses her concern and pain to the one she thinks is the gardener, so we cry out into the obscure and unknown wilderness that opens inside us through prayer.

But then this Unknown is recognized as God--not because of our efforts, or because our perception is clever, but because we are called by name. Mary, who knew Jesus well in his earthly life, does not recognize him right away in his Risen Life. But once she is called by name there is no doubt, and this Encounter cuts through and renders obsolete all of her previous concern and sorrow. Something new has appeared, broken in. It is the Resurrection.

But that experience in prayer, of being called by name and knowing, recognizing the Teacher in that moment--that's all you get. You can't hold on to it, and afterward you can hardly understand or recall it. Noli me tangere, "stop holding on to me." God refuses to be a possession. This is the coincidence of prayer and holy poverty.

Movie Review: Clare and Francis

Yesterday I watched the film Clare and Francis. Directed by Fabrizio Costa and originally produced as a mini-series for Italian TV, this 2007 production is now available as a DVD from the trustworthy Ignatius Press. My reaction is mixed. On the one hand this is a praiseworthy effort on several counts; but to me it doesn't quite succeed in being a good movie.

The greatest success of the film is the effort to be true to history and the sources we have for the life of Francis. It covers a huge amount of material and historical territory, beginning (laudably) with the civil wars and insurrections of the Assisiani in 1198-9 and the battle of Collestrada in 1202, both of which are critical to understanding Francis's background. From there we pass through Francis's imprisonment, conversion, the growth of the early fraternity, the rebuilding of San Damiano, the approval of the primitive Rule, the escape of Clare from her family, Francis's trip to the east and the crisis of leadership upon his return, his illness, stigmata, and death.

Some of the critical conversion moments are dramatized quite nicely, such as the encounters of Francis with the lepers, the message from the crucifix of San Damiano, and the dream of the arms and its subsequent reinterpretation. (To this I would also add the scene of Clare's tonsure, which is one of the most dramatic moments in the whole production.) In this the film is also to be praised for showing Francis's conversion as a sum of various experiences.

On the other hand, Clare and Francis covers so much ground that the progression of parts seemed a little mechanical to me. It also makes it very long when packaged as a single movie; listed at 200 minutes, the whole thing is over three hours. I also found the acting rather flat, though Maria Petruolo occasionally captures a little pathos as Clare. Ettore Bassi didn't do much for me as Francis, but perhaps my own expectations are intense and loaded. (Perhaps I'm not to be trusted on this point, however, as my favorite movie Francis is Mickey Rourke, whom nobody else seems to like.) Even someone like Brother Elias, for whom it would have been easy to capture the ambiguity of his place in the tradition, seemed one-sided. The best characters are Bishop Guido and Pietro Bernardone, who is presented as basically well-meaning until he is finally reduced to rage. Monaldo Favarone, Clare's uncle, makes a serviceable movie villain.

Even more, because the film is clearly working hard to be historically accurate--such that is even possible--I cringed once in a while when certain events about which we don't know much get dramatized in very particular ways. The 1209 trip to Rome for the approval of the primitive Rule is the best example. Clare and Francis presents this great event in the history of the movement as having a very definite motivation within very specific pressures. It's not that the suggestions are uninformed or outlandish, but we just don't know these things for sure and can't say with absolute certainity that this trip ever even happened.

Clare and Francis is clearly presenting itself as an effort to lift up Clare to her proper place within the early Franciscan movement. On this count the film is partially successful. But to be really true to this ambition, it would have had to go on for another two hours in order to cover the rest of Clare's life, the twenty-seven years she outlived Francis, providing both a charismatic authority within the movement and an incontrovertible connection with Francis and the genius of the early fraternity. Other parts take away from this effort by being just plain corny, such as the heartfelt encounter of teenage Francis with little girl Clare as she escapes to Perugia with her family.

Twice during the film the friars at San Damiano are depicted assisting at Mass. Both times they are interrupted, and at one point it seems like there is a danger of desecration to the Blessed Sacrament. One imagines that Francis would have taken this much more seriously than he seems to.

In any case, here's my bottom line on Clare and Francis: if you are looking for a responsible treatment of the lives of Francis and Clare and the beginnings of the Franciscan movement, perhaps as an educational presentation, this would be a fine choice in many of its parts or as a whole. If you are looking for a good movie, maybe not.

The DVD says that it can be watched in the original Italian or dubbed (very well) into English. I wanted the Italian, but the language options wouldn't work for me. Subtitles in English and Spanish are also supposed to be included.

Follow this link to check it out.

Retreat Notes: Prayer and Intention

The "practice" of contemplative prayer can be an obstacle to prayer--if, consciously or not, we come to it and execute it wrong-headedly as one more project, one more task. Dismiss thoughts! Form intention! Desire God!

No! This is not a job or another task! "You have only to keep still." (Exodus 14:14) Let go of thoughts not as a project in itself, which only reinforces religion as agonistic self-involvement, but to sit still and hear God calling within. It is not a strenuous reaching up to God, but the practice of noticing that he delights to descend and live within you.