Rebels Without a Clue

Many of you have asked me to comment on the recent email from Sr. Sandra Schneiders concerning the upcoming apostolic visitation of U.S. religious sisters. The email is long and whiney and chocked full of delusional meanderings on the reality of women's religious life in the U.S. I don't intend to fisk the whole thing. This is Lent after all.

As I read the email though I was reminded of my years working in adolescent psych. Most of our teen patients were drug and alcohol abusers and most had been sexually molested. By far the most common diagnosis was ODD, "oppositional defiant disorder." Below you will find a description of this affective-mental disorder. Read it and then click over to Sandra's missive and see what you think.

In children with Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD), there is an ongoing pattern of uncooperative, defiant, and hostile behavior toward authority figures that seriously interferes with the youngster's day to day functioning. Symptoms of ODD may include:

• frequent temper tantrums
• excessive arguing with adults
• active defiance and refusal to comply with adult requests and rules
• deliberate attempts to annoy or upset people
• blaming others for his or her mistakes or misbehavior
• often being touchy or easily annoyed by others
• frequent anger and resentment
• mean and hateful talking when upset
• seeking revenge

Check all the above.

Here's my take on the whole thing. . .most of the dissident women's orders in the U.S. have spent the last four decades destroying their history, dismantling their faith, and deluding themselves into believing that they are somehow leaders in the vanguard of an ecclesial revolution. Well, they are leaders of a sort, leaders of a devolution into non-existence. We don't need to recount the stats that trace their rapid disappearance from the Church scene. As I have said many times before, "Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. . ." Fr. Z. rightly calls this the "biological solution" to the problem of New-Agey priests and religious.

What's interesting to me about these groups is their oppositional-defiant relationship with Church authority. You see, when I worked with ODD teens in the hospital, it was often the case that the teens would act out when discipline on the unit grew lax. When staff and clinicians got a little lazy about the rules, the teens would let us know--through their bad behavior--that they felt unsafe and needed the boundaries to be enforced. When the staff got tough again, there was a little sassy lip and the occasional time-out, but most of the teens quickly dropped back into their polished disinterest in authority. . .all the while carefully crafting for themselves and for their peers attitudes that let them be safely contra staff.

Sandra and sisters like her have spent the last forty years establishing themselves as oppositional-defiant figures in the Church. Their entire identity as Catholics, religious, women, and human beings is so deeply entangled in being O-D to the Church that they no longer know how to exist outside their comfortable (i.e., well-funded, tenured) bubbles of oppositional nastiness.

If I had to bet this month's stipend on a sure thing, I would bet on this: Sandra and her sisters are thrilled to hear about this visitation! It gives them something to oppose, something to rally against, something TO DO that ratifies their already self-confirming identity as courageous ecclesial rebels. There will be workshops, conferences, websites, petitions, "calls-to-action," oh but the phone trees and email lists will be lit up, rallying opposition to the visitation.

Why?

Because in the absence of any identifibly Catholic characteristics in their "religious lives," Sandra, et al only have the reassuring warmth of their communal temper tantrums and the thin gruel of their rebellion to sustain them in the few winter years they have left. Without this Evil Vatican Visitation--heck, without the Evil Vatican!--Sandra and her goddess-worshipping sisters, would be rebels without a cause.

As it is, their whining is little more than adolescent snarking from the time-out room.

Here's my deadly serious challenge to Sr. Sandra and her ilk: Leave. Simply, leave. Go to another ecclesial communion that will celebrate your wingnut religiosity. If the Roman Catholic Church is so horribly oppressive, so unjustly bigoted, so irrecoverably patriarchal, and these features cause you so much distress and anguish, then leave! But see, you won't leave. Why? Because you have an ODD relationship with Church authority. If you join the Episcopalians, a group that will embrace you and all your moon-batness, if you join the Episco-pagans, you become the establishment. You become the norm, the regular. . .and since you are constitutionally incapable of forming a positive identity, you will cling for dear life to your oppositional-defiant identity in the RCC. You need the Pope. You need the hierarchy. You need the haunting spectre of an Evil Vatican Visitation. You need the orthodox sisters of the CMSWR. You need bloggers like me writing posts like this. . .ah well.

If that weren't so sad, it would be funny.

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Bountiful desert of Lent

First Week of Lent (T): Is 55.10-11; Mt 6.7-15
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Convento SS. Domenico e Sisto, Roma

[NB. Also podcasted. . .right sidebar under "Roman Homilies."]

Our Lord says to Isaiah, “My word,” falling like rain and snow from the heavens, watering the earth, “shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it…[to give] seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats.” Rain and snow watering the earth. Bread to eat. Sowing seed on fruitful soil. Can we see the desert sands of Lent as rich, fertile ground, abundantly sown with well-watered seed? Is this how we should be imagining our fasting and prayer? Isn’t this a time for cutting away, cleaning up, setting aside, and trimming down? Aren’t we suppose to find ourselves wounded and weak, in need of rescue and restoration? Is Lent the proper time for us to be thinking about planting well-watered seed in fertile ground? As any good farmer will tell you: you cannot plant a field choked with weeds and brush…first, you have to clear the land, then you start to plant.

Let’s clear some spiritual land this morning! Starting with prayer. How do you pray? Jesus tells his disciples not to babble like the pagans when they pray. Don’t babble? That’s right, don’t babble. He says, “Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.” So, how then should we pray? We ask for what we need. Nothing more. Daily bread. Forgiveness. Rescue from temptation, deliverance from evil. And for these we are to give constant thanks and praise. Why ask for what we need when the Father already knows what we need? We are completely dependent on God for everything. Asking for what we need exercises our humility, thus making our prayer all the more fruitful for understanding ourselves as creatures loved by our Creator.

How about fasting? First, why are you fasting? Are you taking advantage of Lent to lose a little weight for summer? Maybe trim down for the beach? Are you fasting to acquire a good habit? Or perhaps to lose a bad one? Are you following the rules merely to follow the rules? If your fasting is something other than a means of clearing away the spiritual brush, a way of pulling the noxious weeds that strangle your fruitful growth, then your fasting is without good purpose. Fasting is a discipline, that is, it is a way of learning. What are you learning from your Lenten fast? Come Easter, what will you know about your life in Christ that you do not know now? What can fasting teach us? Like praying for our needs, fasting can teach us about our dependence on God, about our need to acknowledge our dependence and give God thanks for His generosity. Fasting is not about “going without” food or drink or shopping. Fasting is about “going with” God instead of food or drink or shopping.

The Lord tells Isaiah, “[My word] shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.” If the Word of the Lord is to achieve its end for you, it must do so with you. The Word must find in your heart and mind a field cleared of strangling weeds and choking brush. The Word waters thirsty ground, and the seed finds welcome in rich soil. We have forty days to turn a Lenten desert into a verdant field. Pray, fast, and never forget, never forget: gives thanks, always give thanks!

Why is Jesus tempted?

First Sunday of Lent: Gn 9.8-15; 1 Pt 3.18-22; Mk 1.12-15
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Convento SS. Domenico e Sisto, Roma

Jesus is driven into the desert. Not invited or called. Not lured or encouraged. But driven. With the waters of the Jordan still running off his head and the Spirit’s proclamation of his divine Sonship still ringing in his ears, Jesus is sent forth, by that same Spirit, into the wilderness sands to be tempted by Satan for forty days and nights. This is not a very dignified way to celebrate the baptism of the newly announced Son of God. This is not the welcome we would expect for the freshly washed, the newly purified. Nonetheless, Jesus is driven into the wilderness to live among wild beasts and to be ministered to by angels. What purpose does this indignity serve? What possible good could come from allowing Jesus to be tempted by the Devil?

Let’s understand what all this business about being “driven into the desert” implies about Jesus and his baptism. How is he driven into the wilderness? It seems as though he goes out into the sand reluctantly, under compulsion by the Spirit. Other English translations use “sent forth into,” “impelled to go out,” “put forth” instead of “driven out.” What’s missing from these other translations is the sense of immediacy and urgency Jesus feels. But using “driven out” leaves the impression that Jesus goes unwillingly. In fact, his baptism and the announcement of his divine Sonship by the Father—events immediately prior to his going out into the desert—are so profoundly definitive of Jesus’ ministry, mission, and identity that he is “driven into” the desert in the same way that athletes are driven to competitive perfection and artists are driven to creative expression. Gifted at his incarnation with both a human nature and a divine nature, the one person, Jesus, perfects his gift of Sonship in the crucible of the desert so that that gift might be used for God’s greater glory in the service of others—the salvation of all creation.

This first chapter of Mark clearly indicates the incarnational nature of Jesus’ Sonship by marking the divine with his baptism and marking the human with his temptation in the desert. After the forty days with the devil, Jesus is a finely honed, razor-sharp weapon of gospel preaching and miracle-working. Having been shown the limits of human loyalty to the Word and tempted to violate them, and having been shown the limits of angelic loyalty of the Word and tempted to violate them, Jesus walks out of the desert victorious over the devil, proclaiming: “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.” How much more forceful is this proclamation once we know that its clarity and simplicity were forged in the heat and sweat of the devil’s wilderness by “a man like one of us.” And how much more are we encouraged to hear this proclamation knowing that it comes from a man like one of us, and not only a man like one of us, but also the Father’s only-begotten Son. Fully human, fully divine—the gift of divine Sonship perfected in the trials of the desert—Christ Jesus comes to us as John prophesied, and we hear the gospel preached from the Word himself.

Jesus proclaims, “This is the time of fulfillment,” this is the moment of consummation, of satisfaction and completion; this age is the age of achievement and conclusion, of having done and being done. Every contract has its terms to be fulfilled. Every promise comes due. Every I.O.U. waits to be made right. We have a covenant with the Lord that surpasses Law, that surpasses Promise, that surpasses even the words of the Prophets. Our covenant with the Lord is the Lord himself in human flesh. The terms of our covenant, if you will, are etched on his skin, signed with a whip, and sealed with nails. Peter puts it rather succinctly: “Christ suffered for sins once, the righteous for the sake of the unrighteous, that he might lead you to God. Put to death in the flesh, he was brought to life in the Spirit.” If our sins were to be healed, Christ had to become sin for us. If our sufferings were to be relieved, Christ had to become suffering for us. If our temptations were to be defeated, Christ had to become temptation for us, standing in the stead of our dis-ease, so that health might triumph. Origen gets it exactly right, “The whole man would not have been saved, unless Christ had taken upon himself the whole man.”

In as much as the man Jesus goes into the desert to try the limits of his humanity against the enticements of evil, so we are driven into that same desert to test the limits of our divinely-gifted end. All too familiar with the devil’s lures, we should look instead for the enchantments of our loving Creator, our God Who made us to come to Him and live with Him forever. Of course, the devil will lurk as he always does, but our attention, our focus and energy are wasted fighting the Loser. Christ has beaten the devil. But the devil refuses to concede the fight. Though he has lost, he can still find some satisfaction in convincing you that there is something to fight him about! And if he can convince you to spend your Lenten retreat fighting him, then he has succeeded in preventing you from glorying in God’s gifts of mercy and care.

We asked early on: what possible good could come from allowing Jesus to be tempted by the Devil? Simply put: our good, that is, the good of all the Father’s children who strive to reach and grasp His promise of divine life beyond this life. Without the bridge of the incarnation, without the sacrifice of Christ—fully human, fully divine—and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, we would be left to our natural end: death and decay. Christ’s defeat of the devil’s enticements in the desert marks just the beginning of our recovery as loved creatures destined for divine union!

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New suppl(e)mental posts

Two new posts at suppl(e)mental. . .

"Big Bang, Lemaitre, and scientific dogma"

and

"Biblical basis for western science"

Check 'em out!

The Devil preaches on Lent

Back in Lent 2006, I preached one of my more experimental/literary homilies, "With the Devil in the Desert."

Some loved it, some hated it, and some thought I had gone over the edge into the diabolical by preaching a homily in the voice of the Devil.

Since the homily got exactly one comment on the blog, I'm curious about what folks might think about it now. . .I thoroughly enjoyed writing and preaching this homily. It's one of my favorites!

Give it a read/listen and let me know. . .

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Godzdogz: English OP's "do" Lent

Not a penance but a pleasure!

Godzdogs

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Seminar report on science, theology, philosophy

I had decided not to post my science, philosophy, and theology seminar report b/c it needed some re-working.

Then I thought, "You're just being fastidious. Post it."

So, I did: Polkinghorne's Complementarity.

Sr. Ginger Peters, OP. . .RIP

I ask your prayers for the repose of the soul of one my favorite Dominican sisters, Sr. Marygrace "Ginger" Peters, OP.

Ginger died on Feb 21, 2009 after a long battle with lung cancer and pneumonia.

Her last duty to her Houston Dominican sisters was to serve as their Prioress. I remember her best as my Church History professor from Aquinas Institute. Ginger never failed to smile, never failed to encourage nor cajole when necessary.

She had one the best senses of humor among my O.P. sisters. When I introduced her to friends as "Queen of the Houston Dominicans," I always got a exasperated sigh and an easily dodged slap at my impertinent head.

She will be dearly missed.

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A Lenten Prayer

Merciful and loving God, you give us* this Lenten desert for our purification, for our chance to become your faithful friends.

Because we are wearied by our sins and exhausted by the weight of our guilt, the devil seeks to tempt us further away from you.

Let us hear his false promises with your ears and see his counterfeit prizes through your eyes. With your Word in our mouths, we reject his poisonous gifts and run to you for our salvation.

With our every thought and deed, you give us the grace to turn temptation into witness, to make an enemy of the devil, and grow in your love.

Lord, grant us hearts bound in obedience to your Word and freed in your love. And even though we may suffer for a little while, we know our purpose is fulfilled when we offer you thanks and praise for the gift of your Son.

Purged of sin and guilt by your desert, we walk to his death on the cross; we watch for his resurrection from the tomb; and we await his coming again in glory!

In his holy name we pray. Amen.

(written by Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP)

__________________________________________________________________

*Change the plural pronouns to singular for a more personal prayer.

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Thanking the Devil

A few provisions for your Lenten trek. . .

Jesus went into the desert to pray and fast for forty days and forty nights. The devil shows up and tempts our Lord with a variety of goodies.

How is Jesus tempted?

First, he is tempted to reject God with a show of pride. Prove you are who you say you are by performing a miracle.

Second, he is tempted to reject God by testing His promise of love and care. Place yourself in danger so that God will be forced to prove His promise to rescue you when you are in trouble.

Third, he is tempted to reject God by taking on worldly power and prestige. Forsake the worship of the Lord and be rewarded with temporal prominence and political power.

Each time Jesus rejects the temptation and rebukes the devil. How? Each time Jesus successfully resists the devil, he does so by placing God first, by putting his Father upfront and on top of their intimate relationship, making his Father and His Word the lense through which he sees these tempting offers.

Notice also what Jesus doesn’t do when tempted. He never appeals to himself or puts his “needs” ahead of God. Never does he invoke his own power as the Son, or try to fight the devil with theological argument. He doesn’t negotiate or dialogue. He doesn’t listen carefully, ponder his options, and then decide based on a cost-benefit analysis. He doesn’t compromise or make any temporary deals. He doesn’t parse the language of the temptations, contextualize their content, or critique their literary forms. He doesn’t re-envision their meaning or try to make them relevant. He rejects them. Outright.

Jesus resists the devil by boldly and obediently speaking the truth. With each temptation, Jesus begins his rejection and rebuke in the same way, “It is written. . .” He pulls on the prophetic tradition of his heritage, God’s Word in scripture, and turns the devil’s deceit into a fulfilled revelation, a unveiling of the truth made manifest in the desert.

Lent is our chance to do what Jesus does. While in this desert for forty days, we take the devil’s false promises to us and turn them into the fulfilled promises of God’s love and care for us. God will love us against our will, but He will not prevent us from taking the devil’s deal if we will to do so. He will give us everything we need to say No to the devil, but He will not say No for us. We must act; we must say to the devil’s face, “It is written…” God and His promises come first.

The devil knows what we sometimes forget: the power of temptation lies not in accepting his lies as true in but rejecting God’s truth as false. In other words, we do ourselves far more spiritual damage when we make God an enemy than when we make the devil a friend. Why? With God as your enemy, all His gifts become intolerable burdens. You will not hope. You will not love. You will not trust. Enmity with God is a much darker, a far more dangerous place to be than mere friendliness with error and deceit.

Each time Jesus resists the devil’s temptation and rebukes him, he invokes his love of the Lord with the words of our prophetic tradition, “It is written…” He invokes the Covenant between the Father and His people; he opens the doors of his heart’s tabernacle and lets the Word blind the devil. He turns the devil’s false promises into the fulfillment of the Father’s promise to love us and care for us.

When tempted to reject God in pride, humble yourself in gratitude for what you have been given.

When tempted to reject God by testing His promise of love and care, remember that He will never lie; He will never fail.

When tempted to reject God by taking on worldly power and prestige, offer worship to this world’s only Lord and King.

And when you have successfully rejected all these temptations, do something to really make the devil crazy: thank him for his temptations because without them you might have made it through this Lenten desert without the urgent chance to become better friends with God.

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Benedict, Monkeys, RCIA...

Questions. . .

1). What's going on in the Vatican? Why all the tumult around the Pope?

There's always been tumult around the Pope. Even a quick glance at Church history will tell you that there's never been a pope who hasn't had to deal with an entrenched curia, disobedient cardinals, scheming advisers, and throngs of dissident insiders lusting for his downfall. Nothing has changed. This is a good time to remind Catholics that the Holy Father cannot fail in the only ministry of his that matters: teaching and preaching the gospel of Christ. He might not be the best administrator, or the best diplomat, or the best crowd-pleaser. So what? None of these are his principal task. Pope Benedict has made some controversial decisions lately and "professionally aggrieved grievance professionals" (Mark Shea's wonderful phrase) are using these decisions to hit at the Holy Father in an attempt to discredit his whole program of reviving a strong Catholic identity. Don't be fooled: the Pope is under attack b/c he is doing his job as the Vicar of Christ. Like Cardinal Ratzinger said one time: "If I don't read something in the press at least once a week attacking me, I don't feel like I'm doing my job." This too shall pass.

When reading any news story about the Holy Father or "the Vatican" in the secular press, always remember that the reporters know almost nothing about the Church or her faith. They are trained to see and report in purely political terms, usually leftist terms. Recent hysterical news stories about the SSPX and the LC's are evidence of this. They see the Holy Father as a democratically elected official--a prime minister or president--and then proceed to evaluate his "performace" based on criteria used to judge secular politicians. Also keep in mind when you see the phrase "a senior Vatican official says" that this phrase is utterly meaningless. There is no way of knowing who this person is or if there even is such a person. How easy is it to insert anti-papal wishful thinking into the mouth of a ficitious "official" and then report this official's criticism as fact? As I said to a fellow friar recently, "These reporters need to name names, or shut up." Fat chance.

Now, does any of this mean that the Holy Father needs to ignore criticism or fail to learn from mistakes? Absolutely not. Benedict is a brilliant man. He will listen, and he will adapt where he can. But as faithful Catholics, we need to separate out what matters to the faith from what matters to the anti-Catholic press and our perpetually whining internal dissidents. Recent controversies change nothing that is true, good, and beautiful about the faith as taught by the Church's magisterium. So, watch out for dissenting opportunists who will use the blood in the water as an excuse to push their private agendas. Administrative mistakes do not equate to doctrinal mistakes. There is no connection between the two.

2). What is "Monkey Mind"?

I've used this phrase often in describing my own persistent mental state. Basically, it is borrowed from Zen Buddhism and is used to describe a mind that swings rather wildly from thing to thing to thing. Think of a monkey swinging from tree branches, chattering, squealing, and just having a bit of fun. When Zen monks sit for hours on end in zazen (formal "sitting meditation") they are left with no other distraction but the flashing images of their minds. A large part of any mental discipline is mastering these images to the point where they no longer occupy the mind as distractions. I've noted before that I am plagued by both dyslexia and ADD. Fortunately, I found out about both of these well into my doctoral studies, so they never became excuses for me not to succeed in school. Still, I find it extraordinarily difficult to concentrate for even short periods of time. I've adapted my "learning style" to these realities by perfecting the art of procrastination! Papers, presentations, lecures, etc. all get done at the last possible moment b/c I need the pressure of a deadline to serve as a taskmaster. This system has always served me well. Yes, it causes me some anxiety and leaves me exhausted, but any paper I start too early in the semester becomes an unmanagable monster before it is finished. Of course, this method is useless for learning languages. . .foreign language acquisition requires a steady exposure to vocabulary, grammar, and reading. Frankly, I'd rather be beaten bloody than told to memorize verb forms! Seriously, if my dean told me that he would waive the French requirement for my license if I took three lashes from a leather whip. . .I'd think about it. . .I'd seriously consider it.

3). What to do if my parish's RCIA program is not very Catholic?

I've posted before about my own RCIA experience in 1995-6. Not good. The process as it is laid out in the relevant documents promises to be something of an adventure in learning to become a good Catholic. In the hands of a faithful pastor and a dedicated RCIA team, the process is wonderful. Unfortunately, too often the process leads converts into a world of pseudo-Catholicism, or worse, anti-Catholicism. The central difficult, I think, is that the pedagogy of the process places too much emphasis on "sharing the faith" and almost none of learning the faith. How can a group of people who know little or nothing about the Catholic faith share that faith with others who know as little as they do? This is not to say that they have nothing to share! Of course, they do. But RCIA is meant to be an introduction to the CATHOLIC faith not a year-long process of sharing feelings, impressions, and opinions about bullet-point theology and ecclesial politics. Many converts are left with the impression that the Catholic faith is simply a matter of joining a parish, signing up for duty as communion ministers, and occasionally going to Mass on Sunday. When the emphasis is placed on the subjective experience of the individual, the whole of the faith is lost in personal reflection and opinion. The strongest/weakest link in any RCIA program is the dedication of the teachers to the magisterium of the Church. Often these teachers are reluctant to present the more controversial elements of the faith for fear of being confronted by disagreement or disparagement. Tough. Teach the faith or find another ministry in the parish. I know a young RCIA convert who was shocked to discover when he came to U.D. that the Church teaches that Christians who struggle with same-sex attractions are called to celibate chastity. As one such Christian, he was told that the Church honors one's conscience on this issue and says nothing at all about the sinfulness of sexual behavior for homosexuals! In other words, he joined the Church believing that he could, as a homosexual, find a partner and live, in good conscience, a sexually active lifestyle. To his credit, he accepted the Church's teaching once he knew the truth. However, he signed up believing a lie told by his RCIA team. Why did they tell him this? Maybe they believed they were telling him the truth. Maybe they didn't want to risk controversy. Maybe they don't accept the Church's teaching on this issue. and use the RCIA program to teach error in the hope of undermining the teaching. Who knows? Whatever the reason, this young man was lied to and those who did the lying shouldn't be teaching the faith!

Ideally, you want to go through the RCIA program of the parish you will eventually join. If the program seems to you to be teaching something other than the Catholic faith, you might approach the pastor for clarification. You need to be open to the idea that your take on the faith might be wrong and that you have simply misunderstood what your RCIA teachers have told you. In other words, don't assume that you are being taught error simple b/c you disagree with what you have heard. Use the Catechism. Do a little research and find out. Ask faithful Catholics you know, or leave a comment here. I'm not shy about answering tough questions. If it seems as though something might be awry, bring it up in discussion and ask for clarification. Many articles of the faith are not easily understood and often lead to innocent mistakes. Also, orthodox teachings can be expressed in a number of legit ways. Don't assume that what you are being taught is mistaken simple b/c you aren't hearing it presented in a traditional way. In the face of learning and digesting 2,000 years of Catholic doctrine and dogma, a little humility goes a long way. I would resist the temptation to bail on a program and look for another one. Take what your program has to offer but understand that learning the faith is your responsibility. You are not absolved for ignorance when there are so many resources for you to consult.

If all else fails, use my Three-Year Plan for Faith Formation.

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On purpose, with a purpose

7th Sunday OT: Is 43:18-25; 2 Cor 1:18-22; Mark 2:1-12
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Convento SS. Domenico e Sisto, Roma

[NB. This homily is an example of "Praedicator primum sibi praedicet" if there ever was one!*]

The Lord says to Isaiah, “…see, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” This astonishing exclamation by the Lord raises three questions: 1) what is this new thing that the Lord is doing?; 2) what does He mean by “now” when He says that this new thing is springing forth now?; and 3) do we perceive this new thing as it springs forth? As always, scripture is best read as both a history of the faithful response our ancestors to God’s grace and as a script for our own response to the identical grace. Given this, what are we to make of this revelation of immediate newness? On the eve of our Lenten trek, we think first of sin and repentance, the old and the new. Fair enough. Reading the story of the healing of the paralytic in light of Isaiah, let’s think as well on disease and healing, also, the old and the new. But let’s put all four of these themes (sin, repentance, disease, and healing) into a larger theme: as divinely-given purpose as creatures. Who and what are we as creatures—made things—of an all-loving Creator given a purpose beyond our creation? It is not enough to say that we are forgiven our sins upon repentance. It is not enough to say that we are healed of our diseases when we believe. The Lord is doing something new. And He is doing it now.

No doubt this sounds familiar: “You burdened me with your sins, and wearied me with your crimes.” How often do we hear God’s prophets tell us that our Lord is wearied by our disobedience, that He is fed up with our sin? And almost every time we hear the Lord’s lament, we hear something like, “It is I, I, who wipe out, for my own sake, your offenses; your sins I remember no more.” We sin. The Lord tires of it. He forgives us. And remembers our sin no more. Thanks be to God! Surely we are deeply grateful, but we must wonder why we are forgiven. Why do we find ourselves able to stand in the presence of the Lord washed clean of our willful disobedience? The Lord tells Isaiah: “The people I formed for myself, that they might announce my praise.” We cannot praise God while wallowing in our sin. Nor can we forgive our own disobedience, so God Himself, for His own sake, must forgive us our trespasses so that we might accomplish our purpose as His creatures: to praise Him, to bless Him, and to preach His Good News!

Think for a moment about what it means to be redeemed as a fallen creature. We can see this is a rescue from Hell. We can see this as establishing again our original relationship with God. We can also see our redemption as a kind of perfected health. What does the healing of the paralytic in Mark’s gospel tell us? Notice a few things about the story. Since the man is paralyzed, he cannot come to Jesus alone. He needs help. Four men lower him through the roof to Jesus. No mean feat of dedication or labor! Note that Jesus heals the man not only because of his faith, but also because of “their faith,” the faith of those men who worked so hard to get him to Jesus. Note as well that Jesus, in response to the kvetching of the scribes about blasphemy, draws a direct link between sin and disease, forgiveness and healing. He asks, “What’s the difference between me saying ‘Your sins are forgiven’ and ‘Get up and walk?’” Answer: none. In fact, Jesus says both to the paralyzed man: “Child, your sins are forgiven” and “…rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” Given back his mobility, the man rises and walks away. Miracle over.

Not quite. Notice one last thing. . .Mark reports: “He rose, picked up his mat at once, and went away in the sight of everyone.” Not only did Jesus restore his health, he restores his purpose: to be a creature in praise of his Creator! In the sight of everyone, this healed creature amazes the on-lookers; he witnesses to the power of God’s forgiveness by doing what he was made to do. Mark reports: “They were all astounded and glorified God…” Through his faith in God’s mercy, the man is healed. In his healing, he is given new purpose. With his new purpose, he restores the purpose of those witnessing his healing: “They. . .glorified God, saying, ‘We have never seen anything like this.’" What God does for us, He does for His glory. What we do in response, we do in praise and thanksgiving. That is our purpose.

Think about your dis-eases. Not so much your physical afflictions but your uneasinesses, your anxieties and doubts. Aren’t these usually the doors through which you walk to sin? Uneasy about the future, you plan against God’s promise to care for you. Anxious about your current situation, you try to fix things according to your passions, your own dimmed lights. Or maybe doubting some truth of the faith, you decide against right reason and the teachings of the Church and go out into the world’s intellectual desert to find an answer more pleasing to your broken mind. Though we are certainly free to follow these leads, we are never freed in following them. In fact, we are always enslaved more tightly, made sicker, paralyzed more thoroughly when we turn from our divinely-given purpose and follow an attractively decorated but nonetheless deadly end.

We have one purpose: to praise our God with body and soul, heart and mind through time and space. And when we are no longer bound by any measures of movement or created expanse, we praise Him face-to-face, complete in our end, fulfilled in our purpose. Perhaps the best way for to think about sin/forgiveness, disease/health is to think in terms of whether or not we are living out our created purpose, whether or not we are living toward our divinely-gifted end. This is not to say that every scrape and bump, or cough and headache is a sign of disobedience. These are reminders of creation’s falleness and our participation in a world groaning after its own purpose. Our illnesses are opportunities to see a purpose beyond simply enduring pain for pain’s sake, beyond the experience of disease as a natural dysfunction of the body. Like the paralyzed man in Mark’s gospel, we are children faithful to a Father, and we are healed/forgiven when we trust that our dis-eases are not who or what we are as loved creatures. If we are not our diseases, then we are our sins either. What tumor or fracture or infection or mental disorder or willful disobedience praises God? They don’t. Their purpose is wholly-other-than, something else entirely.

We can smell the Lenten desert from here. It’s hot and dry as always. All the better for cleaning those nasty wounds. All the better for stripping away the dead flesh and draining those abscesses of sinful infection. Rather than obsessing on what’s wrong with our spiritual lives—our living day-to-day with Christ and his people,—focus instead on praising God. Fast from purposeless posing in Narcissus’ mirror. Fast from rending your religious garb and heaping ashes on your fallen head. Fast from beating your breast and making a show of piety. Instead, feast on forgiveness and showing mercy. Feast on praising God in His infinite goodness and love. Feast on giving Him thanks for His gifts of life, redemption, and eternal residence near His throne. He’s done, is doing, and will always do something new for us. Spend these forty days of Lent in the excessive luxury of gratitude, sparing no moment to self-indulgence, giving nothing to disease or anxiety.

Our wounds are healed. And even if we still bleed, even if we still hurt, our purpose is renewed. Bleed, hurt, cry…do it all “on purpose,” do it all for one purpose, the purpose you were made to complete: praise God; bless God, and preach His Good News.

*"The preacher preaches to himself first."

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New podcast!

Lazy me. . .I finally got around to posting the podcast of last Tuesday's homily, "Resisting the world's leaven."

Check it out by clicking on the "Roman Homilies" link in the right side-bar.

Let me know what you think. . .good, bad, and/or ugly! I haven't listened it yet.

Fr. Philip, OP

Question for book benefactors

A question to my book benefactors. . .

Someone (or someones) recently purchased about six books from my Wish List. . .mostly the books on Eastern Orthodox prayer and spirituality.

My question: were these shipped to Rome or Texas? I'm asking b/c if they were shipped to Texas, I will need to find other sources for my prayer book since I won't be back in Texas 'til July. This doesn't mean the books won't be used. . .I have a second book brewing in my Monkey Mind that will make good use of these gifts!

Leave comments, please. . .I won't publish them.

Some navel-gazing. . .

BE WARNED: this is a fairly rambling piece of somewhat self-indulgent navel-gazing. . .

Normally, I am all-too aware of "where I am" spiritually--usually, somewhere around Not Quite Mortally Wounded Enough to Give Up Entirely but never Flying High Near the Throne. Like most struggling Catholics, I do as well as I can and throw my lot in with God's promise of mercy. This is as it should be. We struggle; we hope; and we get on with our day. Lately, something has changed, and I can't figure out what exactly is different.

Though I value the intellectual life, my basic instinct is intuitive; that is, most of my decisions/evaluations are deeply rooted in empathetic urgings, or fits and starts--maybe even leaps--of insight that push me onward and outward. I hate to admit it, but many of my choices in the past have been gambles rather than reasoned choices. For the most part, these bets against logic have worked out to my benefit. I vaguely remember someone once saying something about only children and fools rely on Providence. . .

Anyway, during my recent visit to the U.S., I was in touch with a strange sense of Something Isn't Right. There's nothing I can point to concretely as an example. Just a really bizarre, almost physical, twinging that I am in the wrong place spiritually. This isn't about being in Rome or about studying philosophy. . .it's more about my relationship to God and His Church, something more fundamental than what I am doing intellectually or vocationally and more about who I am as a priest.

During my three years as a campus minister at U.D. I was in a position to work as a priest on a daily basis. I celebrated Mass as many as five times a week. I was spiritual director to several students, a few staff members, some folks from the community. I heard confessions daily. There were even a few weddings and some baptisms. There's not much of that here in Rome. Two Masses a month. One spiritual directee. No confessions, baptisms, or weddings. Who is a priest without his people? Hmmmmm. . .

Though I taught literature and theology at U.D. the entire time I was there, these were academic exercises rather than strictly priestly ones. Teaching thrills me almost as much as preaching. . .I've learn more in front of a classroom than I ever have sitting in a desk. It's the give and take of a good discussion rooted in a text that stretches me intellectually not the solitary life of a scholar sitting in his room reading. The teaching I did stretched my spiritual muscles as well as my brain. But nothing strains against my naturally spiritual laziness like having to prepare five homilies a week. Of having to read, study, pray over, and preach about the scriptural readings for the ecclesial occasion. Add to that a poet's pride in needing to be original (i.e., not simply reaching into the file and pulling out a homily from three years ago) and you have a recipe for growth. I recently reviewed some of my earlier homilies and compared them to the few I've preached since October 2008. Though my more recent homilies are better focused and more clearly communicated, there's not as much energy there, not as much verve in the text or the delivery. Is that a bad thing? Maybe this is an indication that I am maturing, or maybe I'm feeling spiritually constipated. Stunted. Or held back. Who knows?

In many ways--despite my years in the academy--I was not prepared to be a student again. Sitting in a desk, taking notes, being examined. There's a different kind of discipline in being a teacher. Come to think of it. . .I've rarely been a student without also being a teacher. The typical model of university teaching is Master/Apprentice. Accomplished scholar imparts his/her mastery to those who want to attain competence in a field on the way to achieving expertise. From the beginning of my professional training as a reader/teacher of literature, I have been steeped in a different model: Coach/Athlete. Though I rebelled early on against the Marxism used to fuel this model (the so-called "pedagogy of the oppressed"), it best fits my personality. It is more dynamic, more intuitive, less authoritarian than authoritative, and it gives the teacher lots of room to grow. There's content to impart, of course, but the power of this model is the demonstration of a skill and the constant need to hone that skill.

Maybe my current spiritual discomfort has something to do with my academic discomfort? For Dominicans, study is a form of prayer. But I don't study well alone, or rather, I study best when studying is a communal activity, something done with others who need to sharpen their intellectual skills. What's a coach without his/her athletes?

So, I'm a priest without his people and a coach without his athletes. That goes a long way toward explaining my current malaise. Don't get me wrong here! I'm not unhappy or depressed or anything like that. Just. . .blah. Just tepid in all things spiritual and academic. The intellectual work I have ahead of me is daunting, even overwhelming. But that's not new. What's new, I guess, is that I feel little or no urgency to engage it or complete it. Why? I dunno. I'm reading. I'm thinking. I'm praying. Doing what I can to progress. But my heart isn't in it right now. I wish I could say that I'm being unduly distracted by more urgent problems. Nope. Or that I am being oppressed or burdened with third party problems. Nope. Yet, the sense of being stalled, of wading through molasses remains. Even my creative project--the prayer book--isn't moving my spirit to bigger and better things.

Who knows? It could be this Roman winter--cold, dark, damp. Could be that I am focusing on my health right now. Losing weight. Getting my HBP meds atraightened out. Or that I am too much concerned about where I will be this summer. It's easier to live in the future, isn't it?

What I need is a Coach standing over me yelling, "One more page, you wimp! Come on, you lazy bum! One more book! One more homily!" Ha! Yea, that's the ticket.