O Come Emmanuel

Today is the first Sunday of Advent; the beginning of our preparation for the Christ-Child. And as we do most years, we sang ‘O Come, O Come Emmanuel’ at Mass this morning. That beautiful and mournful and hopeful hymn that has always been part of my life touched my heart in a new way this year.

O come, O come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel; that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear

Lonely exile. LONELY EXILE. LONELY EXILE! Those two words kept reverberating in my head. And that’s how I felt (how I feel). In lonely exile here. Our Church has been so busy lately defining what it means to be a Catholic Christian that I feel marginalized.

If you vote for this person you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you support women’s ordination you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you love and support gay families you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you don’t walk in lock step with the Bishops then you CAN’T really be Catholic.

And so I’m an exile. I refuse to exclude; to hate; to judge; to deny love to those who may not follow ALL the rules.

I’ve decided to join the other ‘lonely exiles’ in prayer this Advent season. I will pray for (and with) others in my Church who may feel disenfranchised; who feel left out; shut out; and alone. We may be silenced but our silent prayers cannot be stopped. And we are companions on the journey. God alone listens to our hearts and responds.

O come, Desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of all humankind; Bid thou our sad divisions cease, And be thyself our Prince of Peace.

Advent 2012May you find love, joy, comfort, but mostly peace in this Advent season.

Peace,

Denis

Make A Joyful Noise

My son-in-law is not a very good singer. No, that’s not quite accurate; he’s a really bad singer. Poor guy couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. But you what? He sings. He sings out loud. He sings with his kids. And most importantly, he sings in church. He makes ‘a joyful noise’!

Sing out your love!

Travis is an example of how children learn by modelling their parents’ behaviour. Both of Bess and Travis’s children love music and grandson Noah really loves to sing. He loves to sing in church just like Daddy. In fact, he so loves church singing that while he was in England every time we entered a church or abbey or cathedral Noah would sing Alleluia. Of course at 21 months old his ‘alleluia’ sounds more like al-lay-loo-la. All the more beautiful and endearing! Somehow a baby singing al-lay-loo-la at the top of his lungs has a transformative power. And Noah has brought joy to many with his vocals. Recently at Mass back in the U.S. he asked the song leader (and our good friend Tracy) for “more loo-la; more, more loo-la!” And together she and Noah made ‘a joyful noise’.

So God bless Travis for singing his heart out heedless of being off-key and for remaining confident that God loves all voices; perhaps especially those that struggle with melody, lyrics, tone and rhythm.

Granddaughter Anna likes to say “that’s the way God made me” or “I’m still learning.” Usually she invokes these sentiments when she has failed to meet some challenge or doesn’t want to try to learn something new. Example: “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up all my toys but I’m not as good at that as you are because I’m still learning” or “I can’t reach the pedals very well on my bike because this is way God made me” (meaning short). But Travis doesn’t seem to care if he is singing is off-key and maybe he celebrates his singing because that’s exactly the way God has made him.

Regardless, his example of ‘joyful noise’ has reverberated in our worship and made an impression on my grandchildren that will last their lifetime. And I thank God for his gift to them and to me. I’m not a good singer either (although I’m better than Travis) but I now sing out  loudly in church, too. Travis and Noah have taught me how to ‘make a joyful noise’, and let go of my fear of not sounding good enough. I’m still learning to love my own voice (warbles and all) and I’m reminded that it’s okay because this is the way that God has made me.

Al-lay-loo-la!

Denis

The Vatican Seems To Want It Both Ways…

Those of you who follow my blog know that I am Catholic (unless of course I’ve been excommunicated and haven’t received the paperwork yet). My conservative Catholic friends would say I’m not the average Catholic but I’d disagree. I’m probably more mainstream than they are – just more vocal.

Anyway, Catholic leaders mobilized earlier this year when the Obama administration announced that church-affiliated organizations would be required to provide health insurance plans that include contraceptives for women free of charge. Angry Catholics insisted that the ruling infringed on the their first amendment right to freedom of religion.

Can’t we all just get along?

Recently Pope Benedict stated: “Defending the institution of marriage as a social reality is ultimately a question of justice since it entails safeguarding the good of the entire human community and the rights of parents and children alike.”

So now I’m confused. On this issue of contraception Church leaders say in effect, that government should stay out of our bedrooms. Because insistence upon government mandated coverage of contraceptives is a violation of our religious beliefs – okay, I get that. But then the Church says who we decide to share our bedroom with should be ‘Church sanctioned’. It seems that Church leaders want the government involved in this most intimate decision. That the sanctity of marriage should be defended by government; in essence the government should stay in our bedrooms. Therein lies the conflict.

So separation of Church and State is a “pick and choose” kind of thing? I’m often accused of being a ‘Cafeteria Catholic’ – one who chooses which teachings to follow and which to reject or ignore. Never mind that I have a conscience, my arch-conservative friends would be more comfortable with me if I would just blindly follow the hierarchy’s rules. But that’s too easy and an insult to the intellect God gave me.

Here’s what I propose:

Church take care of Church things. Exclude whomever you want. Make up whatever rules you want to impose upon your faithful. And deal with the fallout.

Government (read conservative politicians) stop pandering to the fears of the citizenry. People of reasonable intelligence can (and should) decide with whom to share their life. And when (and if) to have children. If the faith community that they belong to can’t embrace their love and life decisions; it’s that community’s loss.

Blimey, I’m even more glad to be living in England right now!

Peace,

Denis

Rogue Nuns

A plaque at Plaza Mayor depicting the punishment inflicted on the unorthodox during the time of The Spanish Inquisitions

The Vatican recently accused U. S. nuns, specifically the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), of radical feminism because they focus more on the human rights and the poor, rather than pushing Church doctrine against contraception and homosexuals. 

This was the lead article that I was reading on my iPhone that was streaming from The National Catholic Reporter the day that I happened to be sitting in Plaza Mayor in Madrid, Spain. The irony did not escape me. The Vatican, particularly arch-conservative Cardinal Raymond Burke and pedophile protector Cardinal Bernard Law, is now targeting “rogue nuns”. As I sat in the very place that The Spanish Inquisitions took place, I couldn’t help but think that Burke and Law, like Ferdinand and Isabella, must feel very confident that they are purifying the Church and maintaining Catholic Orthodoxy – cleansing it of those who would dare to question the hierarchy.

God bless our rogue nuns! What the bishops fail to realise is that WE are the Church and that WE have been heavily shaped by the love and nurturing of those religious women in our lives. Cradle Catholics like myself were often taught by sisters who sacrificed their personal lives to enrich our own. My own three aunts were Sisters of The Most Precious Blood and tirelessly gave of themselves day in and day out – building up the Kingdom of God on earth. But mostly the nuns that I knew (and know) loved us. Lived with us. Laughed with us. Cried with us. And faced the joy and heartache of life with us. If they questioned official Church teaching it was only because they walked with us as we ourselves questioned a hierarchy that at times seems woefully out of touch with our lives.

So bring it on Vatican! Silence the nuns! Demand obedience above all! Threaten excommunication! But the love that these women have inspired and The Church that they have built will never go away!

I think of my Aunts Lucy, Noel, and Gene Marie and thank God daily for their presence in my life. I think of great teachers: Thecla – who inspired in me a love of architecture and design (and was instrumental in my career choice), Jeanine – who gave me the opportunity to speak in public (some folks wish I would shut up now), Fidesta – who always made learning fun (even when she was a little bit scary), and so many more. I think of friends like Lucille who gave my family refuge when I transferred to Wisconsin for a new job (and left Deb alone with 3 small kids), Nivard who welcomed me to a new city when I was feeling very alone. And Helen, Dorothy, Mary, Ruth, Annette, Carol, Cindy, and countless others that have lived, loved, laughed, cried and walked with me.

We all know that the Spanish Inquisitions were really about power and never about love. The WE that is The Church will never abandon the Sisters that have built US. And loved US.

Come Holy Spirit Come!

Peace,

Denis

Cautionary Tale

We have toured a lot of churches in Europe. A whole lot. And I love each and every one of them. Most of these churches, abbeys and cathedrals are old. Some are ancient. All are magnificent. But sadly many seem to be more like museums than active places of worship. Some don’t even have regular services – maybe two or three Sundays per month. And some of the congregations seem as old as some of the buildings.

These churches, abbeys and cathedrals represent centuries of Christian worship that time has seemed to have forgotten. Why? How can so many of these grand structures be empty, hollow remnants of their former glory? Where are the faithful?

My workmates marvel at my Catholicism. And further, they have the notion that most folks in the United States are very religious and avid church-goers. Not quite sure where they got that impression. They are more curious than disrespectful of my beliefs; however the comments by some veer toward contempt. “No Church would tell me how to live!”

All Saints Church in Oaksey, Wiltshire                     Ancient and mostly empty

So when touring these beautiful sanctuaries and contemplating the lack of public displays of faith I am conflicted. Did people grow tired of a Church that was more interested in control than service? Did the Church focus their attention more on the ‘haves’ than the ‘have-nots’? Did common folk grow weary of trying to walk in lock-step with a hierarchy that was increasingly out of touch with their lives and needs?

I believe that in our American Catholic Church today we risk alienation of millions of faithful by increasingly focusing on our “worthiness” and forgetting the real message of Jesus. After all the Church is us – the faithful; not just the priests, bishops and cardinals. The Church should embrace all of us; not exclude us because we may have listened to our consciences and made informed decisions that might not be in keeping with strict church teaching. Let us not forget that God has gifted us with intellect. Sometimes discernment means more than just following the rules.

And finally, never forget the power of love. Love unites us, heals our wounds, and binds our hearts. And love should influence all of the decisions in our lives. Let’s fill our churches, abbeys, and cathedrals with love. Then perhaps they won’t someday become little more than curiosities.

To say that I am made in the image of God is to say that love is the reason for my existence, for God is love. Love is my true identity. Selflessness is my true self. Love is my true character. Love is my name. ~Thomas Merton

Peace,

Denis

I Give Up!

It’s Lent and Catholics are expected time to ‘give up’ something. In years past I believed that by  ‘giving up’ or ‘doing without’ I was able to prove my mettle. I could wear it like a badge of honor – “Look at me – I’m stoic.” “I must be holy and worthy because I gave up eating chocolate or drinking alcohol, or stopped using curse words (a personal favorite) for forty days!” But didn’t that miss the point? Could I continue to be a jerk and give up candy and God would still be pleased?

I don’t mean to trivialize something that millions hold so dear and I also know that many people choose to make Lenten sacrifices to honor the great sacrifice that Jesus made for us. But for me at times it all seems so silly – so superficial.

“When you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you.” Matthew 6:17-18

This year, “I give up!” I will let go of my need to ‘let go’.  Instead I will make a concerted effort to ‘do something’. A few years ago a friend sent this to me. It’s not necessarily a Lenten ‘to do list’ but it could be. I’m going to give it a try:

This Year

Mend a quarrel ~ Seek out a forgotten friend

Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust

Write a love letter ~ Share some treasure

Encourage youth ~ Appreciate one another

Manifest your loyalty in word and deed

Keep a promise ~ Find the time

Forgo a grudge ~ Forgive an enemy

Listen. Listen. Listen. ~ Apologize if you are wrong

Give a soft answer ~ Try to understand

Gladden the heart of a child

Examine your demands on others

Think first of someone else ~ Be kind; be gentle

Laugh a little ~ Laugh a little more

Deserve confidence ~ Flout envy

Take up arms against malice ~ Decry complacency

Express your gratitude ~ Welcome a stranger

Take pleasure in the beauty of the earth

Speak your love ~ Speak it again

Speak it once again

Peace,

Denis

The More Things Change – The More They Stay The Same

This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday. Lent, like most everything else in England, will be different this year.

Saint Peter Roman Catholic Church - Cirencester

We’ve been attending Mass at St. Peter R.C. Church in Cirencester, Gloustershire. It’s quite a departure from St. Joseph in Cottleville, Missouri. First of all, there is only one Sunday Mass – 11:00 a.m. Secondly it is a very small church; my guess is it might hold about 200 hundred people but 150 seems more likely. Thirdly it’s old; not English old but about 120 years old which is more than 100 years older than St. Joseph’s. And finally, it’s poor; the weekly collection is averaging £240.00 – that’s approximately $380.00. St. Joseph usually takes in $40,000.00 weekly. I suppose the numbers tell a story but only part of the story.

We are proudly Catholic here at St. Peter in Cirencester. Perhaps it’s because our numbers are small and our voices are so few. We are clearly in the minority – dwarfed by The Church of England. But there is great joy and there is much hope and there is abundant love. Our priest, Father Michael Davies, works two parishes – ours and St. Michael’s Tetbury.  He’s not a young man but has an indefatigable spirit and a self-deprecating sense of humour. His energy and his wit belie his years. And his gentle approach to our faith is a nice respite from some of the heavy-handed demands being made by our bishops in the U.S.  today – none of the “my way or the highway” mentality. On Sunday he actually ‘invited’ people to fast and abstain on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday – inviting instead of obliging or demanding. Maybe it’s only because of my pride that I prefer to be asked instead of being told what to do; but ‘asking’ instead of ‘telling’ made all the difference to me.

My yes is yes! to a request, an invitation; not an edict. And that’s what Jesus does – He invites us to share in His passion during Lent. He invites us to journey through His pain and suffering. He offers us His sacrifice – we can accept (or not).

Years ago at a retreat in Wisconsin the priest/facilitator suggested that the Church should be in the business of asking, not telling, so that we can all freely say yes to God’s call.

And so here I am twenty years on and the answer is still yes (when I’m asked).

Peace,

Denis

Letting Go of Christmas Past…

For many of us Christmas carries a lot of baggage. Memories of Christmas, both good and bad, fill our hearts and influence how we celebrate today. Regardless of our beliefs, no other day of the year has the same amount of emotional punch as Christmas. We either find ourselves desperately and maniacally trying to live up to some ideal picture perfect Christmas – think Norman Rockwell, The Waltons (not the Wal-Mart ones), or “It’s A Wonderful Life” or we plunge into depression because we know that our ideal Christmas can never really happen.

Early Christmas disenchantment - circa 1956

Whether Jesus is your Savior or Christmas is just time of goodwill for you, it likely doesn’t diminish the significance of your memories of Christmases past. And the struggle to get past our bad ones or relive our good ones seems to be endless. There’s no shortage of disillusionment, heartache, and sadness in this world; so why not wrap some up for Christmas? My bitterness about a Christmas (long ago) that I didn’t get the gift that I really wanted or the year that someone was unkind to me or the time that I wasn’t invited to a party (or was forced to sit on Santa’s lap) can jusifiy my indignagtion. But holding on to anger, resentment and sorrow from years gone-by just poisons my ability to live joyfully now.

Perhaps this year is the year to let go of grudges or hurt feelings or regrets that overshadow my enjoyment of the holidays. Are my bad Christmas memories really worth all the hard feelings and self-pity? We say “peace on earth and goodwill to all” but often I only want peace and goodwill to me – I think it’s about time that I let go of my selfishness.

Last night my seven year-old granddaughter helped put it all in perspective for me. We attended an Advent Novena at a nearby convent. Standing there in the candle-lit chapel, hearing the sisters begin to sing, Charlise leaned over to me and said, “Pawpaw, I think I’m going to cry.” When I asked why, she said, “Because it’s so beautiful!” And we were wrapped up in that moment – a moment so beautiful it brought us both to tears.

This year the house may not be clean enough and the children may not be well-behaved and the food may not be perfect and the gifts may not delight but Christmas will come anyway. So I’ve decided to sing “Let It Go, Let It Go, Let It Go!” and get over any disappointments along the way. And I will be merry this Christmas because I have so many blessings for which to be thankful.

This year I already have a happy Christmas memory. An angel named Charlise brought it to me last night!

Peace,

Denis

Praying With Anna

My granddaughter Anna prays. And she prays like I wish we could all pray – unabashedly, joyfully and out loud! Of course most 3-1/2 year olds don’t have much inhibition. They’re still too young to be controlled by peer pressure. So I suppose that announcing loudly that she “needs to go potty” or pointing out someone’s obvious physical flaw falls into the same category as public prayer – there’s nothing wrong with it. Time will tell. Hopefully she will learn that some public comment should remain private but I hope that she never loses her zeal for prayer.

Holy Anna

Last week we had lunch at one of her favorite places, Chik-fil-A® and before eating she began singing loudly: 

Thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus; For our food, for our food; And our many blessings, and our many blessings; We love You, we love You!” to the tune of ‘Frere Jacque’, complete with hand gestures. Amen!

Some passersby smiled. Some seemed puzzled. Some seemed genuinely touched by her prayer. Of course I had previously witnessed her new meal prayer ritual and was thrilled that she would sing out in public. God bless her parents and her preschool teacher for teaching her to love Jesus.

One evening last month I was asked to lead the Rosary at our parish. For those of you that don’t know, the Rosary is an ancient prayer of our church that dates back over a thousand years. The Rosary beads are used to mark prayers said in repetition while meditating on the mysteries of Jesus’ life on earth. I used to think that the Rosary was just for the blue-haired old ladies of our parish but I’ve come to honor the tradition that it represents and respect those that have gone before me in their devotion to Mary and the Saints. My Aunt Minnie must be smiling down from heaven.

Anna’s parents, Bess and Travis, had gone out to celebrate their anniversary the evening that I was to lead Rosary and Deb and I had Anna and baby brother Noah for the evening. I decided to take Anna with me. Not certain if she could stand still for the 20 minutes or so that it would take to pray at the grotto, I asked the Holy Spirit to look down on her and be with her. I needn’t bother – Jesus held her up for all of us there to witness.

Although she got a little wiggly at times, she stood beside me with her own little rosary and prayed along. At times I lost my place because I could hear Anna’s tiny voice praying, “Hail Mary, full of grace…” But somehow it only made our prayer gathering that much more meaningful for me. This wasn’t something rehearsed or practiced – this was just pure joy.

At the conclusion of prayer I thanked the small gathering for their patience with us and apologized for whatever distraction Anna might have caused. I was assured by everyone that Anna had made the prayer especially beautiful. I was told by one person that he was quite certain that Mary’s statue could be seen smiling. I don’t think that plaster can smile but I know that I was beaming!

Pray on, Anna, pray on! Pawpaw’s learning to do the same.

Peace,

Denis

Remembering…

This morning I read names at the Mass of Remembrance. Our parish celebrates the lives of those that have died each year on the first Saturday in November. I’ve done this a few times and it’s a beautiful ceremony and I believe it’s especially healing for those that have recently lost loved ones. Of course the physical challenge is pronouncing the names correctly – particularly the Polish, Italian and Chinese names. I always ask the Holy Spirit to help with that and I suppose even if I butcher a name or two it won’t be the first time that these families have had to endure some clod that can’t pronounce ‘Um Sung Huan’ (somehow that makes me feel better – my apologies to the Sung Huan family, oh and to the Szcgielski family, too).

But my ability (or inability) to pronounce names doesn’t diminish the significance of this day. As Catholic Christians we believe in life after death. Further we believe in some type of purgation of our souls. We believe some folks go straight to heaven; others may exist in a state of being somewhere between life on earth and eternal life with Christ. It’s a sticking point with my Protestant friends but it is Scripturally founded.

If he were not expecting the fallen to rise again, it would have been foolish to pray for the dead. But if he did this with a view to the splendid reward that awaits those who had gone to rest in Godliness, it was a holy and pious thought. Thus he made atonement for the dead that they might be absolved from their sin. 2 Maccabees 12:44-46

I’m not trying to convert anyone here; just trying to explain my own faith tradition. But my traditions are beside the point. What I experienced this morning was joy through sorrow. Which is exactly what Jesus offers us each day. And it’s only in our darkness that we can truly find the light. This morning as I read each name I felt honored to speak the name of a loved one; someone who was being lifted up in prayer or more likely being asked to pray for the loved ones remaining here on Earth. Afterall, my personal saints are in all heaven (Aunt Noel, Aunt Minnie, Mimi, Grandpa Tony, Aunt Sha, Uncle Ted, and countless others). Who better to ask prayers of than those who are experiencing the eternal light of God.

Not long ago my granddaughter Charlise told me, “Pawpaw someday you’re going to die.” I have to admit that I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that truth. I think I told her that I would like to be very old when that happens but I assured her that I would be in heaven ALWAYS smiling down on her.

Today I was reminded (again) that I may need her help getting there.

Peace,

Denis