Great guide to Lent
March 11, 2011
Here’s an awesome guide to Lent from Our Sunday Visitor. There’s more information, prayers, and devotions at OSV’s Lent page. Great resource!
Fr. Albert Haase, OFM on Fasting
March 9, 2011
“Fasting can be a painful admission that I am not free, that my life is enslaved, obsessed or addicted to external things such as food, drink, codependent relationships, sex, television, privacy and the like.”
A prayer for the city
March 9, 2011
I had the opportunity to attend a Liberti Center City home group last night. I’m one of those guys who would attend a Mormon Bible study if he got the chance – denomination aside, I just love talking about Scripture. I don’t consider myself to be exceptionally eloquent or educated – I still struggle to find some verses even if “I’m pretty sure it’s from the Bible.” But for me, the exploration of the treasure of Scripture is profoundly exciting. I love the opportunities to gain new insights into human nature and the narrative arc of God’s plan for humanity.
Anyway, The discussion centered around Rev. Jared Ayer’s sermon for the week (listen here, mp3 warning), entitled “A prayer for the city.” I encourage you to give it a listen. The core of the sermon was a vision – one in which modern-day Christians engage actively in the role of spreading the Gospel to the people of the city. He encourages us to find ways in which we can serve others and show the love of Christ in our city communities. From the discussion at the home group, this sermon is only a small portion of the greater vision that Rev. Ayers has for the city of Philadelphia and urban Christians as a Body. It’s also a lot more nuanced than the sermon itself reveals – we quickly got onto topics of the suburbs, dynamics of community, and commuting to church vs. finding a local church.
To me, serving the cities is a special mission and one of great importance. I mentioned during the discussion that cities are unique in the sheer mass of concentrated humanity that they contain. The dramas of human existence – loss and reconciliation, anger and forgiveness, love and hatred – all take place in the city at a massive (and sometimes overwhelming) scale. But rather than being an insurmountable obstacle, it’s a great opportunity. This density gives the Church an opportunity to serve the inhabitants of a city on virtually any level they have need. Whether it’s showing the love of Christ by feeding the hungry, or providing counseling to those that are lost, we as a Body are confronted with hundreds of situations each day where we can step in and bring the love of God to the people.
The psalm that accompanied this sermon was Psalm 87:
1 He has founded his city on the holy mountain.
2 The LORD loves the gates of Zion
more than all the other dwellings of Jacob.3 Glorious things are said of you,
city of God:
4 “I will record Rahab and Babylon
among those who acknowledge me—
Philistia too, and Tyre, along with Cush—
and will say, ‘This one was born in Zion.’”
5 Indeed, of Zion it will be said,
“This one and that one were born in her,
and the Most High himself will establish her.”
6 The LORD will write in the register of the peoples:
“This one was born in Zion.”7 As they make music they will sing,
“All my fountains are in you.”
The Zion of Psalm 87 has a number of attributes, chiefly among them that it was founded by God and that it is loved by God. In the context of Rev. Ayer’s sermon, Zion can become a metaphor for the Church as established within a city. It comprises all of the members of the Body of Christ, a “city within a city.” Much as the Israelites were blessed and chosen by God in order to bless all the world, so will the ecclesial Zion be blessed by God, so that it may bring His light to the people that surround it.
I am always floored by the ways in which God uses people to touch the communities of a city (in my case Philadelphia). Followers of Christ have created schools, fed the homeless, helped the sick and dying in their times of suffering. Though the Church is in many ways broken and incomplete (as it is made up of broken and incomplete people), it is amazing the way God fixes and completes it. His love for His bride is perfect and unending, and when we fulfill the work of God on this earth, when we are Jesus’ hands and feet (and eyes, and ears, and lips), he bestows upon us grace beyond imagining.
G.K. Chesterton on Sola Scriptura
March 8, 2011
“The nineteenth-century neglect of tradition and mania for mere documents were altogether nonsensical. They amounted to saying that men always tell lies to children but men never make mistakes in books.”
Reflections on Suffering
March 7, 2011
A recent acquaintance of mine, Paul Burkhart, has been discussing the issues of pain and suffering from a Christian perspective over at his blog. The replies have been interesting, to say the least, and they’ve caused me to think about some things. So I thought I’d throw in on the discussion.
I was raised, as I’ve mentioned, in the Word of Faith movement. Also known as the “prosperity gospel” or “name it and claim it” theology, I was taught all the standard phrases – “By his stripes we WERE healed” (Isaiah 53:5), “Whatsoever you desire, believe that you receive it, and it shall be yours” (Mark 11:24), etc. My household regularly prayed for the sick that they would be well, knowing that “Jesus Name is above all names” (Philippians 2:9), including the names of every sickness and affliction.
The Word of Faith perspective on prosperity, health, and happiness comes down to this: God has already done everything necessary to give you the perfect life. One of healing, one of wealth, and one of joy. It falls on us to abide in His promises, being faithful to Him and working towards choosing to receive the gifts that he has given us. If we are not living “victoriously,” if there is something lacking in our lives – well, it’s on us.
I think that this doctrine is dangerous. And not in the “it’s dangerous because of how powerful it is” kind of way. I think that to ignore the positive spiritual benefits of suffering denies us the opportunity to grow closer both as a Church community and in our walk with God. By placing the responsibility of healing on our own faith, we are encouraged to trust our own efforts in truly receiving God’s gifts to mankind. This leaves a trail of broken and bitter people who are constantly blaming themselves for their own failures. It’s a wonder more people haven’t left the Word of Faith movement.
The Bible is rife with talk of suffering. Everything from political persecution, to sickness, to emotional pain is expressed (and often quite beautifully) in Scripture. The story of Job is one that hinges entirely on the suffering of a just man. But what does the Bible tell us about the purpose of suffering? 1 Peter 1: 6-7 says this:
“6 In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 7 These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”
Here, the author (I do believe it was Saint Peter, although many disagree) is comparing the value of faith to gold. Unlike gold, however, “which perishes even though refined by fire,” our faith is strengthened by the refining fires of suffering. Notice also that Peter says that the sufferings have come for a reason. “These [all kinds of trials]have come so that…” – so that our faith “may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”
Jesus Himself acknowledges that suffering can play a role in the glorification of God. In John 9, it is written:
“2 His disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ 3 ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned,’ said Jesus, ‘but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.’”
This, to me, stands in direct and stark contract to the Word of Faith (and similar perspectives) when it says that we suffer only because we do not receive the full “inheritance” that God has offered us. Not all suffering is caused by sin. In the case of this blind man, he suffered in his blindness simply so that the glory of God could be revealed to man on earth. In fact, God’s greatest gift to mankind – our redemption – was wrapped in a package of profound and horrible suffering. Jesus’ death on the cross was agony. How can it be said that God does not use suffering as a tool for the benefit of mankind? In both the above examples, the suffering was to a greater end – the glorification of God.
I want to be clear in saying that I still wrestle with the idea of God “sending” us suffering, like a kid at an anthill holding a magnifying glass. I do not believe that He toys with us for fun, or that a being of perfect Love would want to torture His beloved creation. But imagine a battlefield surgeon, as he works on a severely wounded patient out in the field. Certainly, the patient would suffer as the surgeon fought to save his life. And it is quite likely that the efforts of the surgeon would be experienced by the patient as torturous. The patient knows only his pain, and that the efforts of the surgeon, as he digs around in the would and cuts things and bandages things, are causing greater pain. He is so focused on what he feels that he is blinded to the fact that the surgeon is saving his life.
So what do we do with suffering? There are many who resist it – they pray, as Paul wrote in his blog entry, that it would pass as quickly as possible, that we may not see the darkness that it brings or the misery. And yet, I feel that we do ourselves a disservice when we resist our sufferings in this manner. To be clear: I am not saying that we should seek out suffering. Those that insist that Catholics (or others with a similar view of suffering) seek pain are attacking straw men. Seeking suffering is entirely different from understanding it and seeing it as an opportunity to grow in our faith and trust in God. Rather, we are to embrace the suffering we receive. Through it, we must cling to God. We must be reminded of the terrible suffering that Jesus took upon Himself for our redemption. Only then can we begin to appreciate the Love, the Mercy that God has shown us through His Son. In suffering we are tempted to focus on ourselves – our needs, our desires. And yet, by turning our eyes to God, we can begin to see the fullness of His glory. His light shines brightest to us in the darkness of our pain.
Notes on a Scandal
March 6, 2011
[Warning: this post is a discussion of the sexual abuse of minors in the Catholic Church. If this topic upsets you, I encourage you to find something happier to read.]
Recently a grand jury report [pdf] was released which details an investigation headed by the District Attorney into allegations of sexual abuse by clergy in the archdiocese of Philadelphia. This report reveals that dozens of priests either engaged in, or were (by their silence) accessories to, the sexual abuse of minors.
Being only a relatively recent convert to the Church, I find myself reacting in an unexpected way to this news. It’s no longer “they” who are affected – the victims and their families, the congregation at large – but “we.” Like any decent human being, I was of course appalled by the events before I became Catholic. But it was always from an outsider’s perspective – I criticized the Church with the moral superiority of someone who was not a part of the group affected (of course blatantly ignoring the issues within my own cultural and spiritual communities). I’m sure I even made a few “priest = child rapist” jokes in my younger days, a fact I regret for more reasons than just my recent conversion.
But this is now a problem with the group of people that I consider my spiritual family. But what’s more than that, I’m beginning to realize that – as we are all the Body of Christ, regardless of denomination – this matter affects all of us, and at every level of society. The Catholic community is affected by the undermining of trust in the people who have taken on the role of spiritual advisors, counsellors, and representatives of Christ on earth. The Christian community is divided by a “we aren’t like them” mentality. And humanity at large is affected in its perception of the Church.
I find it difficult to fault those whose faith in the Catholic Church has been shaken by events such as these. Although I hope that they are able to distinguish the actions of a relatively small number of priests from the clergy at large, I understand that such a monstrous violation of trust is something that should cause us to stop and think.
I mean, what must it be like for the parishioners who were under the guidance of the accused priests? Certainly the actions of the priest are insufficient to invalidate the sanctity of the Liturgy (or the Eucharistic itself, for that matter) but how would it make you feel? To know that a person upon whom you relied, whom you trusted in spiritual matters of incredible gravity, to whom you confessed has engaged in this horrible, disgusting act? We naturally associate the people in positions of institutional power with the institutions themselves. The President of the United States, for example, is more than just a leader – he is a representative of the United States government. As such, the ripple effect of the scandal goes farther than we realize. The priest, during the Mass, is both a member of the congregation and its leader in worship. And when the hidden sins, especially sins of such grave matter, of this leader are revealed, can anyone truly blame a person for questioning their confidence in the Church?
I avoided thinking about this sort of thing for a long time. It’s a bit of a balancing act in my own mind to trust in the Holy Spirit’s guidance within the Church and to see what I consider to be an obvious mishandling of sexual abuse situations. After all, how can we trust the shepherd who would knowingly allow the wolves to walk among the flock? My thoughts naturally moved towards a criticism of the Church’s actions, and this made me very uncomfortable. And yet, 1 Corinthians 5:9-13 sticks in my side like a thorn:
9 I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people— 10 not at all meaning the sexually immoral of this world, or the greedy and swindlers, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world. 11 But now I am writing to you not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother if he is guilty of sexual immorality or greed, or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or swindler—not even to eat with such a one. 12 For what have I to do with judging outsiders? Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? 13 God judges those outside. “Purge the evil person from among you.” (ESV)
But going back to the analogy of the President of the United States – how many of us found ourselves doubting the very creation of the United States when it was revealed that President Clinton had cheated on his wife and lied about it? How many of us wondered about the legitimacy of the Constitution because of the failures of Reaganomics? As it turns out, our natural inclination to associate the people in positions of power with the very institutions of which they are a part is not trustworthy. Just as one can love the concept of democracy without supporting the acts of individuals who represent it, so also can we love and participate in God’s Church without having to accept or condone every action of the leadership. It is a given that the actions of these priests were not representative of Christ, or of His Church.
Considering all this has brought with it a host of new questions. If it’s acceptable to criticize obvious and egregious errors in the Church’s actions, where are the lines drawn? Are there any lines to consider, or is the entire thing a slippery slope down which we must endlessly tumble? After all, the Church was created by Christ himself, and is not merely an extraneous benefit, a “bonus” designed for us to take advantage of as we desire. The Church is the very Body itself – both the congregation of believers and the embodiment of the Holy Spirit’s guidance and motive force. And as the Church holds such a position with the larger context of our world today, how do we criticize that which was instituted (again, by Christ himself) to guide us? In a sense, who are we to judge? Is it not the sheep attempting to guide the shepherd?
However, I will not be cowed into condoning the actions of pedophiles (or covering up their actions, for that matter) by the (entirely theoretical) reaction of an (entirely theoretical) outraged Church. “How dare you,” this theoretical Church might ask, “presume to know the will of God in this matter?” Even the least spiritual among us could clearly discern that the actions of these priests are not a reflection of Christian charity. “Purge the evil person from among you.” And yet, these priests were recycled into new parishes, shuffled around, remained among us.
To me, the line is drawn in an examination of our own hearts. What are our motives in criticism? What baggage do we bring with us when we criticize the Church? There are plenty of things people criticize the Catholic church on – female priests, priestly celibacy, gay marriage, contraception – the list goes on. But I think that in many of these instances, we can see that there is a lot of color that informs the perspectives of these critics. I’m not saying that this “baggage” has no merit or should cause these people to doubt their conviction. But I think that considering the motives and beliefs that underly them can cause us to understand more clearly why these criticisms are brought to bear in the first place.
In the case of the sexual abuse of minors, the motive in any criticism of the Church’s handling of the matter (for me, anyway) is simply this: It shouldn’t happen. End of story. And if it does happen, it should be dealt with swiftly and harshly. It confuses me that the Church would not see how much goodwill could be gained by decisive and immediate actions leveled against those even ACCUSED of such a thing.
Admittedly, I don’t have an answer here. Nor am I trying to vilify the Church. I do know that this is a time of terrible pain for many people. And I believe with all my heart that we must prevent this from happening in the future. I long to see a day when the politics of this sort of matter are thrown by the wayside, when predators wearing the collar of the priesthood are not shielded from the law, but thrown before it. My speculation (entirely without evidence) is that the Church believed the damage done by the revelation of the matter would be greater than the damage done by the acts of the priests in the first place. And if this is so, I can only despair, and pray that this mindset would change.
I love the Catholic Church. I trust the guidance of the Holy Spirit has manifested itself in our leaders. And yet, I know that humans are fallible, can be blinded by things like politics or pride. I pray that this would change. That those who have been profoundly wounded by the actions of these men would be able to look to God for healing. And that we, as the Body of Christ, would be able to prevent this sort of thing from happening in the future.
Introductions [boring backstory alert]
February 16, 2011
Hello! I’m Chris and I’m the new guy. Well, not *the* new guy, but definitely *a* new guy. I became Catholic in November of 2010 after a long spiritual journey, including being raised in the Word of Faith movement, attending a Full Gospel church, and a time of spiritual stagnation and general laziness most people call “college.” A little backstory…
My journey towards Rome definitely began in college, although I believe the seeds were planted back when I was in grade school. My parents sent me to a local Catholic school, Sacred Heart, because they didn’t really care for the public school system of my home town. As a result, I was exposed pretty regularly to the liturgical worship of the Mass (which I know we attended as a school function at least once a week). Now I was raised to believe that all this stuff about the Saints and the Pope and stuff was more or less nonsense, but this didn’t cause me that much trouble at school. I considered myself to be the equivalent of a foreign exchange student, learning about a culture that was familiar and yet different than my own.
My parents were (and still are) sola scriptura, sola fide Protestants. When I was younger we tried a number of churches, but I remember receiving a firm grounding in the teachings of the Bible at home, too. I’m grateful that my parents were pretty realistic about my involvement in the outside world – I was allowed to spend time with friends as I pleased, play video games, and the like. But we were very active in the churches that we belonged to. By the time I was 11, we settled in a Charismatic Full Gospel church, my mom had become the office administrator, and my dad was on the praise and worship team.
My parents continued to follow the Word of Faith movement, especially televangelists such as Kenneth Copeland, Jesse Duplantis, and Creflo Dollar, but we considered the church at this point to be our “home.” As I grew older, I became involved in our youth ministry, technical production, and even support roles like parking and event setup/breakdown. The church we attended believed in praying in tongues, being “slain in the Spirit,” and the power of faith for healing and prosperity. I was an active part of the church up until I got ready for college – I spoke in front of the youth group, I helped in planning events, and I was even in the puppeteer ministry for the younger children.
One thing that’s interesting about the church was the fact that, when we first went there, they were meeting in the auditorium of a school. It was a young church, and over time we moved from the school, to another church’s building, to eventually taking out a bank loan, buying some property, and building our own building. Seeing that process had a pretty big effect on me. I often describe the congregation today as having “megachurch” aspirations – over time, they’ve expanded to include a full K-8 school, a multi-story building, and the staff to run it all. Which is probably something I’ll get into a bit later.
In college I more or less gave up on religion. It was a subtle thing… all the distractions of my new life sort of crept up on me and kept me from finding a church or a group of people to connect with. I was briefly involved in a small Campus Crusade Bible study, but I found out that… well… I didn’t really care for the people involved. I ended up becoming fully apathetic, although I still claimed to believe all the same things I had been taught. Over time, however, I began to feel a hunger to connect with a church. Parallel to this desire, however, came the realization that I had changed, and that my relationship with God and my beliefs regarding what made a good spiritual home had changed with it.
I realized that I no longer felt that the Charismatic/Full Gospel/Word of Faith approach to God and spirituality matched my beliefs about God, my mindset when approaching him, and my attitudes towards the people around me. I was lost and confused during that time, although most of the people from my former life that I kept in contact with were supportive. I explored new denominations, and realized that a more devotional, liturgical style was what I was looking for. After a whole bunch of false starts and a period of months in which I attended Monday evening Mass at St. John the Evangelist in Philadelphia, I finally decided that I wanted to explore becoming Catholic.
A friend of mine introduced me to St. Agatha-St. James, where I started attending a number of discussion groups and even an RCIA class. My mentor there, John, did everything he could to help my explorations, and was very supportive in my journey. Finally, after more than a year in the Catholic Church, I decided to make it official, and was received/confirmed on November 14, 2010.
Needless to say, my experience in the Catholic Church has changed, drastically, the way I view God and spirituality. I am constantly amazed by the peace I feel, and I truly believe that the Catholic Church is where I am supposed to be. The support of my fellow parishioners has been wonderful, and I am very grateful for it. There’s a lot for me to learn and explore as I continue to grow in faith as a member of the Catholic Church, and I’m really excited to start writing about my thoughts and experiences as I continue my journey.