News Flash from the USCCB about Our Lord and Lamb

News Flash*

Jesus is the Lamb of God, 

end of narrative.

* "The Angus Dei should not be prolonged unnecessarily...

nor may other texts be added to this chant." 

Read all about it here.

What I'm Reading

While everyone else is busy reading The Hunger Games, I've been mucking around with other dystopian-esque texts.

Last month I slammed through all 500+ pages of Michael Korda's memorable memoir, Another Life: A Memoir of Other People, which I lugged home in hardcover from The Book Thing. It's a page-turner account of Korda's decades in the publishing industry that includes great dish (is that slang still used?) about high maintenance authors. His chapter about Jacqueline Susann is scary-funny-juicy.

What makes this romp a dystopian text? For years I've been comparing the imploding mess known as traditional trade publishing with what has (deservedly) happened to the financial services industry. Korda's memoir affirms my every suspicion by revealing how the publishing industry sowed the seeds of its self-destruction during the 1960s and by the 1980s, had created a living hell for authors and real editors.

From there, I segued into reading A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church by Rembert G. Weakland, OSB, a frank memoir that spans nearly 60 years of his involvement with the Roman Catholic Church. Weakland's writing isn't nearly as engaging as Korda's, but that almost doesn't matter. The content is jaw-dropping enough without literary embellishment.

I've only read as far as chapter 10, "Ministering in the Last Years of Pope Paul VI (Rome 1973-1977), but that's far enough along to see how quickly and insidiously the Curia scrambled to regain autocratic dominance after the Second Vatican Council adjourned. Weakland's memoir affirms my worst suspicious about the institutional church.

Does this make me an Educated Seeker or a Glutton for Punishment? Or is that a distinction without a difference?

Do You See What I See? (Bumper Sticker Edition)

Had I been the one driving, I probably would've crashed into something (or someone) when this bumper sticker was brought to my inattention. Fortunately, I was on terra firma, so nothing (and no one) was harmed when I cracked up...laughing.

Go ahead, guess what induced eye-rolling snortified laughter from this Catholic author ─and editor.

Exorcism Conference in Baltimore!

Oh, how I love the lede on this recent story from Catholic News Service: "U.S. [Roman Catholic] Bishops are looking for a few good men to become exorcists." How could I not keep reading?

Apparently, there's a national shortage of trained exorcists and so 56 bishops and 66 priests are attending ─ as I write this ─ a Conference on the Liturgical and Pastoral Practice of Exorcism. Where? Here in Baltimore (aka, Charm City).

Conference attendees would probably think I'm possessed because right now my eyes are rolling, I'm gnawing on a hangnail, scratching my head, and muttering.*

Why, in the name of all that is holy, are they limiting this training to a few "good men"?

I say they should be recruiting a few good women, especially those whose teenagers have clean rooms and whose husbands always keep the toilet seat down. Exorcism is clearly woman's work.

Lord, have mercy.



*All kidding aside, for a fine social history, I highly recommend American Exorcism: Expelling Demons in the Land of Plenty by sociologist Michael W. Cuneo

Christian Love Abiding. Not.

Which do I find more distressing, the various and sundry news releases generated by the United States Catholic Bishops? Online reportage about that news? Commentary posted by the so-called People of God? Forced to choose, I'd have to go with being disturbed by the continuing lack of civility. (Has The Catholic Civility Project folded?)

If you think I'm making this up, then please put on virtual HAZMAT gear and wade through what's posted in response to David Gibson's recent column at Politics Daily. Or don't. The title of his piece is, "New Catholic Sex Abuse Findings: Gay Priests Are Not the Problem," so it should be easy to imagine the range of comments. (By the way, ever notice how hatemongers stink at spelling? I hate that.)

So where, exactly, did Jesus command us to hate one another? Those of us who claim to be Christian really do need to stop behaving as if John 15:9-12 reads like this:

"As the Father has hated me, so I have hated you; abide in my hate. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my hate, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his hate.

I have said these things to you so that my anger may be in you, and that your anger may be complete. 'This is my commandment, that you hate one another as I have hated you.'"

Sustaining the Joy of Holy Communion

Like many who are blessed to serve Holy Communion, I crouch down whenever children come up to receive. It's certainly easier to make eye contact with them and significantly reduces the probability of Jesus ending up on the floor. And, let's face it, my quadriceps could always use a workout.

I almost didn't move into distribute-ready position last Wednesday when the boy came up my line. He was so little, I assumed he had not yet received First Eucharist. He was surrounded by similarly little siblings and his mother cradled an infant in her arms, so I focused on her -- but not for long.

"Hello!"

That he sang out "hello" rather than "hi" or "hey" captured my full attention. My "hello!" in return rang out more loudly than I'd intended as I knelt before him. "The body of Christ," I said in the most reverentially friendliest way I could muster as I placed the host in his little hands, cupped and outstretched to receive.

"Not in your hands," hissed his mother as she hustled him off to a pew. And not for the first time, I wondered about the hazards of piety and the ways we unwittingly obliterate joy.

What I Should Have Given Up for Lent?

Only two days until Palm Sunday and I'm just now figuring out what I should have given up for Lent. And that would be?

Dear God...I should have stopped reading news about the Roman Catholic Church. I should have stopped reading commentary about my religion by culture critics and political pundits. Actually, I should have stopped reading news and commentary about all institutional manifestations of Christianity. Christian behavior has been conspicuously absent within Christendom lately.

Not that I am without sin in this regard, but let the record show that I pitched my online fits about the Williamson snafu eighteen days before Lent began. And haven't I been been uncharacteristically silent about the embarrassing mess that Vatican communications has become? Okay, that's a wee lie. I've posted comments on others' blogs about this ridiculousness.

[I could, mind you, cite examples of WTF from other liturgical churches. I follow what's happening among Episcopalians and Lutherans, in addition to Roman and Byzantine Rite Catholics.]

And yet, maybe God has graced me with exactly the Lenten journey I needed. Reading religion news and the intra-communion vitriol passing for commentary has certainly felt penitential. I feel as if I've spent the past thirty-six days wandering around a parched desert filled with dry bones, empty skulls, stinging insects, and hostile tribes willing to exile their own while warring with one another. Except for the Eucharist, precious little nourishment.

Our trudge with and to the Cross continues for another eight days. I'm looking forward to renewing my baptismal promises during the great vigil of Easter. How about you?

As for that sign of peace thing...

In addition to coming up with 72 different possibilities for closing the Mass, those attending the 2005 Synod of Bishops on the Eucharist had other important things to discuss -- like the timing and reach of the sign of peace. The Pope asked them to contemplate the former; the bishops extended their inquiry to include the latter.

As reported at Whispers in the Loggia:

"Cardinal Arinze said that in addition to its timing some have suggested that the sign of peace be limited to an exchange between the Massgoer and those in his or her immediate vicinity. He said that in some churches today, the sign of peace is extended to the point that it becomes 'almost a jamboree.'"

Clearly, the bishops haven't attended many Jewish synagogue services in general or ones that are even more exuberant expressions of community. (Simchat Torah comes to mind. ) I'm doing a lot of reading about first century Jewish-Christians for my next book and do not believe that either Jesus of Nazareth or Jesus the Christ envisioned his Body as represented by stiffs.

The Mass is ended, now...

Even though I've recently contemplated changing my blogger handle to "Cranky Catholic," I'm grateful for my chosen faith (Christianity) and much of the religious practice thereof in Roman Catholicism. Today, I'm grateful for the latest blog fodder I retrieved from Whispers in the Loggia.

Since 2005, there have been discussions about new options for the final words of the Mass. Frankly, I was always charmed and moved by "Ite, missa est," translated as, "The Mass is ended, go in peace." Apparently, many attending the 2005 Synod of Bishops on the Eucharist thought Catholics were hearing, "go and rest." Like that would be a bad thing in these times of multi-tasking and God-doesn't-even-know-what on Sundays.

Because many of the bishops wanted to make the church's evangelization mission more clear, here are the new options for dismissal, chosen by the Holy Father:

-- "Ite ad Evangelium Domini annuntiandum" (Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord).

-- "Ite in pace, glorificando vita vestra Dominum" (Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life).

-- "Ite in pace" (Go in peace).

You know what's coming next, right? My suggestions (in English):

-- Go in peace and don't run over anyone in the parking lot.

-- Go and reveal Christ by actually behaving like a decent human being.

And your suggestions would be? (Use the comment box below!)

Read *her* rant!

You don't have to be raising children to appreciate Ironic Catholic's recent post, "Theological Rant 5.0: Youth evangelization isn't rocket science." Any and every adult can serve as a role model; that goes double for those serving as pastoral associates. Of her many fine points, this is probably my fave:

"Stop using teens as volunteer fodder for every dang aspect of parish programming [so] they can check off the Confirmation checksheet. Because frankly, the Israelites didn't like being slave labor either."

And it should comes as no surprise that I loved her points about how what happens in the home generally has more impact on kids than what goes on in the building we call "church." Hope you'll click over to read her great rant.

And for your Penance, go swallow the Rosary.

Very exciting days for U.S.-based Catholics, what with Joe Biden being named Barack Obama's running mate. Wafer Wars! Catechetical challenges!

And perhaps fresh new ideas for penance now that we've been reminded how Biden once said, "The next Republican that tells me I'm not religious, I'm going to shove my rosary beads down their throat."

Missal Missiles

Until now, I haven't commented on proposed changes to the Roman Missal, the U.S. bishops' recent deliberations, or the USCCB announcement about what will go into effect circa 2011. Other commentators have done a great job. A Concord Pastor provided fine reportage in his post. I also liked David Gibson's Pontifications post.

Not that I'm devoid of opinion on the matter.

Am I ever without an opinion? Heck no, even my dreams are opinionated -- which might explain the bruxism. So here's what I'm thinking about the changes, at least half of which I plan to ignore by muttering sotto voce what I learned as an adult convert. I'm thinking two words: "Latin Mass" ...but without the priest celebrating Ad Orientem.

As a result of growing up with Hebrew prayers and chanting in Sanskrit during my yoga years, I'm all for worshiping in a foreign language. I can say with confidence that doing so provides access to a powerful experience beyond the rational mind. Plus, returning to Latin could end up being ironically democratizing. Let's level the praying field so that no one knows what's being said. Quod erat demonstradum.

The Joys of Adult Conversion

Embracing Catholic Christianity as a sentient adult has its blessings. Currently topping my list is the blessing of not having been raised Catholic and therefore unable to do anything liturgical by rote. For me, liturgy is not at all what the symbolic interactionists would call a "world-taken-for-granted." [Note to self: spend some time thinking about how to reconcile prior training in and affection for this phenomenological approach with B16's teachings about the perils of moral relativism.] Okay, back to the Earth plane.

I, for one, could not lip-sync the Mass, although I can recite most key congregational speaking parts in a heartfelt way. I'm not too proud to admit being at a near total loss when expected to proclaim anything other than A or B options for the mystery of faith. Anyone standing near by might wonder if I'm saying, "WhenweeatthisbreadandhumunahhumahJesusblahblahglory." Not to worry all you Cradle Catholics, I'm determined to learn C and D long before it's time for my own funeral Mass.

So can you imagine what happens when I'm asked to be an Altar Server?

Sometimes this happens when I show up to read for the noon Mass. And if you think it's a young priest who invites me to serve him as he serves us, you'd be wrong. I'm granted this privilege by a man who really is old enough to be my father.

I do not take this privilege for granted. I cannot do it by rote. I always think I've messed up something sacred and he always kindly tells me I've done "fine job." I always say, "thank you, Father" and mean it. I also resist adding that I'd probably do an even finer job if I were wearing an alb and a huge pectoral cross and was eight years old.

Catholic Karaoke

Having arrived at the 12:10 Mass as the opening antiphon is ending, I slide into the nearest pew instead of scanning the church. I'll have more to say about church seating maneuvers in another post. This post is about the octogenarian seated in front of me. Feature this: The senior citizen seated in front of me is lip-syncing the entire liturgy.

I notice this especially after the Liturgy of the Word is completed and the Liturgy of the Eucharist begins. Yep, no doubt about it. She is not praying the Rosary. She is lip-syncing the entire liturgy. Entire. Liturgy. All the words. In order. Along with the septuagenarian priest.

Try as I might, I cannot place my thoughts elsewhere. I think, "Good thing you're not getting captured on hidden video in the Archdiocese of St. Louis."

So at this point during Mass, as is often the case for many Catholics except I write about it, I'm struggling to pay attention. But hey, at least I am not getting all distracted by screaming infants. No, I am getting all distracted by thoughts about Church history, in part because I'm currently reading Women in Christianity by Hans Küng. I figure I'll get back in line -- so to speak -- when it's time to receive Communion.

It's time to receive Communion. I go up. She stays put and I think, "Wow! Are you excommunicating yourself for lip-syncing the consecration?" I'm dying to ask her -- an idiom I don't at all mind using given my belief in the Risen Lord. Instead, I decide to mind my own beeswax, especially on this feast day for the patron saint of beekeepers.

After the dismissal (which she lip-syncs) she turns to me and asks, "Why weren't you the lector today?" I tell her I wasn't on the schedule and ask, "Why didn't you receive Communion?" She tells me why. By now our hands are clasped together. Christ is present. I decide not to ask her about the Catholic karaoke thing...just yet.

Meanwhile, back at the Office

Office?

I'm referring to the Liturgy of the Hours, the readings for which are conveniently delivered daily to my igoogle home page via Google Reader. Given recent conversations I've been having about what it means to be catholic and Catholic, this afternoon's reading leapt from the computer screen right into my heart.

Here's the passage, 1 Corinthians 12:24-26, in a variety of translations. It's supposed to be prayed circa 3:00 PM but why wait?

"God has arranged the body and that there may not be disagreements inside the body, but that each part may be equally concerned for all the others. If one part is hurt, all parts are hurt with it. If one part is given special honor, all parts enjoy it. " Jerusalem Bible

"God has so composed the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior part, that there may be no discord in the body, but that the members may have the same care of one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together." Revised Standard Version

"God has so constructed the body as to give greater honor to the part that is without it, so that there may be no division in the body, but that the parts may have the same concern for one another. If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part is honored, all the parts share its joy." New American Bible

And the next verse? "Now you together are Christ's body; but each of you is a different part of it." Grateful to be reminded at this point in time.

U.S. Religious Landscape Survey -- Prayer

Last night I drifted off to restless sleep trying to conjure up what, if anything, would get Jews as upset about Judaism as Catholics ever seem to get about Catholicism.

One year during the 1960s, my mother was infuriated with the UJA for publishing the dollar amounts of everyone's contribution. I don't know whether this happened on a national or local level. All I remember is a lot of Tourette's Syndrome-like muttering that didn't affect either our religious affiliation or Jewish identity. I'll need to ponder the larger issue a bit more.

Meanwhile, after reviewing The Pew Forum findings about who's the ONE, my attention was captured by what Catholic respondents revealed about prayer.

When it comes to frequency, 58% say they pray daily and 21% cop to praying weekly. When asked, "How often do you receive a definite answer to a specific prayer request," 15% apparently receive a definite answer at least once a week, 11% once or twice a month. (N= 8054)

My sociological imagination is running amuk and wondering if folks consider "no" a "definite answer." How about "not yet?" And would that change the response category for the 31% who said they "Seldom/never" have their prayers answered?

I'm also curious about the 8% of Catholics categorized as "Don't know/refused" when asked about receiving a definite answer. Does this mean they're waiting for burning bush quality verification or saying "it's none of your beeswax"? Maybe they can't take "no" for a divine answer.

U.S. Religious Landscape Survey -- Part II

Last week The Pew Forum released more research findings from its U.S. Religious Landscape Survey. Observers have zoomed in on responses which seem to indicate that a belief in God does not necessarily correlate with an adherence to religious teachings or doctrines.

Among Catholics, for example, only 19% would agree that "There is only ONE true way to interpret the teachings of my religion" and only 16% would agree that "My religion is the one, true faith leading to eternal life." (N = 8054)

There are a number of ways to interpret these results. One is to challenge survey itself and indeed Robert Wuthnow, director of the Center for the Study of Religion at Princeton University is quoted in the Wall Street Journal as calling the methodology "sloppy." Another is to question the religious literacy of respondents who, depending on their cohort, probably never learned much about Catholicism to begin with.

Or maybe today's American Catholics are becoming less doctrinaire? More flexible? Hard to imagine given some of what has been going on lately. Last week's clerical craziness relative to Sr. Louise Lears has generated a potent combination of personal angst and embarrassment. I guess this means I'm really a real Catholic now.

Again with the "real Catholic" thing...

In my mind's ear, I can hear my Jewish mother heaving a big Brooklynesque sigh and saying, "Oy vey, Maria."

This morning, I got around to reading yesterday's Wall Street Journal, the only secular newspaper I read. (I'm also a big fan of The Week magazine which delivers top stories and news analysis from a zillion national and international periodicals.)

Front page, below the fold: an article about scalping tickets for Pope Benedict's public appearances.

The lead: "Brooklyn native Charlie Pigott says..." blah blah about his ability to score seats for baseball games and his inability to get "his mother into the bleachers for New York's hottest event." Next, he explains why people are going to such costly lengths to see the pope. "To a real Catholic," he says, "it's the closest thing to God you're going to get."

Tempted as I am to correct Charlie's grammar and syntax, it's his view of Catholic reality that needs tidying up. Yes, Catholics tend to go gaga over the pope, but because "it's" the closest "thing" to God? Lord have mercy.

Someone -- maybe his mother? -- should remind Charlie that the papacy traces its origins to St. Peter. (Mt. 16:18) For this convert from Judaism and real Catholic, it's the extraordinary reality of apostolic succession that stimulates feelings of awe and reverence relative to the pope. Also his outfits, especially the shoes.

Finding a Place to Belong

Barbara, who characterizes herself as a "Catholic in crisis," writes to say that her core identity as a Roman Catholic is exactly what stops her from leaving for an evangelical or Pentecostal church. "I can’t bring myself to follow the lead of so many to find a closer experience with God, to find a place to belong. Its been a struggle for me for about 2 years." She asks if I have any advice.

These sorts of conversations with cradle Catholics always ramp up my gratitude for arriving at Catholicism during adulthood. By then, I'd pretty much figured out that to be a "good" Catholic I'd need to distinguish:

• religion from faith;
  
• religious identity from cultural identity;
  
• being catholic from being Catholic, and
  
• parish life from the Body of Christ.

Being raised Jewish puts me at an advantage because Jews have spent millenniums grappling with such nuances. My Jewish legacy absolutely entitles me to answer her questions with questions:

• What do you mean by "closer" to God?
• What do you mean by "belonging"?

Whenever I get my knickers in a twist over something that's going on with the People of God or church leadership, I take a break from them and focus on God.

I suppose I'll always retain Judaism's insistence on direct dialing, but as a Catholic this means I focus on Holy Communion. Call me human, but I cannot commune with them unless I'm in communion with Him. You will not find this central focus on Eucharist at an evangelical or Pentecostal church.

As a practical matter, you'll need to find a parish where you can focus on coming to the table of the Lord and being nourished there. Go someplace where you're not distracted by community maneuvers or whatever you may have heard about the pastor. Practice lectio divina with the Mass readings du jour. Pray to God for signs. Gently place your two years of desert wandering within a lifelong journey of faith.

As for "belonging" in the sense of participating in a parish community, I'll have more to say about that in another post. Just yesterday, I had a conversation with someone about the whys and hows of leaving one parish for another. I seem to be having a lot of these conversations lately. So glad that tomorrow is Laetare Sunday!

About those lapsed Catholics...

While I go take my next dose of Tamiflu, please click on over to these two blogs.

At Wheelie Catholic, you'll find a post about how, in the case of parishioners with disabilities, the church often creates lapsed Catholics -- but not lapsed believers. Long post, worth reading in its entirety.

At Ironic Catholic, you'll find "Dear Communion of Saints," a satirical advice column that hits the mark about some of the Pew study results with exquisite rueful-laughter generating precision.

In another post and after the room stops spinning, I'll respond in depth to a comment left by Barbara on an earlier post of mine.