It takes a strong constitution to be Queen.


The Readings for the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Fecit potentiam in brachio suo: 
dispersit superbos mente cordis sui. 
Deposuit potentes de sede, 
et exaltavit humiles. 
Esurientes implevit bonis: 
et divites dimisit inanes. 
He hath shewed might in his arm: 
he hath scattered the proud in the conceit of their heart. 
He hath put down the mighty from their seat, 
and hath exalted the humble. 
He hath filled the hungry with good things; 
and the rich he hath sent empty away. 

My favourite Marian feast, and also the most revolutionary. This feast gets to me for a number of reasons. This young woman (some estimate 13 or so) has just had some shocking news: she’s going to birth a baby. Then she’s told her aged cousin is also with child and she runs off to take care of the woman, jumping into service instantly. And the two women who are with child in an odd, even embarrassing way take care of each other. When she comes home, now six months pregnant, she has to tell her betrothed what’s going on and he has to learn to accept it (with the help of an angel as well).

When we’re talking about the place of women in the New Testament, if we don’t notice these two we miss the point. Jesus’ mother was a firebrand. With only a couple of exceptions, when we see her in the Gospels she is unmarried. She is daring. She has the gumption to tell her son (whom she knows is divine) what to do. She orders around the help at other folks’ parties, she dashes off (seemingly alone) to take care of her cousin. Like her son she, too, hangs out with a prostitute. She and other women brave the soldiers at the crucifixion – when almost all the menfolk run away.

Mary is… strong. When Greek and Roman legends need women like this, they look to the goddesses, but when the Jewish and Christian scriptures need women like this, we have them, right here, ready to go. Even, for all that went down, Eve fits into this role. Who needs goddesses? We’ve got the Matriarchs; and then there’s Mary (and then there’s Mary).

Then she starts talking politics. This Gospel reading provides a text that is sung at Evening prayer every day of the year, regardless of the feast. It is sung at Morning prayer in the east… but every day of the year, the church sings (in one lung in the morning and in the other lung in the evening) that God 

Scatters the proud in their arrogance
Kicks the mighty from their thrones
Lifts up the humble
feeds the hungry with everything awesome
Makes the rich crawl away hungry

And, since Mary is an prototype of the Church, this is our song, this is our job as well. The fathers of the Church are quite clear: the only reason God gives us wealth is to give it away. The extra money, the extra clothes I have… these are all on loan to me – not from God, but from the poor. My duty is to return these goods into the hands of their rightful owners.

I thought of this yesterday morning as a poor man on the street outside my office was waving a broom. He and I have spoken, in fact when he saw me at 6:45 AM be put his hand over the end of the broom and held it down. But he didn’t speak. I think this was a case of “off one’s meds” but he still knew his friends. Anyway, by 9:30 he was into full-on street-crazy mode. And I really didn’t know what to do. The security guard, standing outside, kept him calm and I never heard the cops come, so I think it was ok in the end. But in the past he’s had grocery store and a coffee shop to go to: they’ve been closed for a week or so, and all the signs have been removed. The parking lot is surrounded with chain link and I think some other thing is about to happen on the corner of 9th and Howard. Sadly that means there’s no port-a-potties or shower-on-wheels there for the homeless any more as well.

So much of this city is “casting the lowly further down and lifting up the rich”.  San Francisco is rather like the nation at large: we have a wealthy nation that can’t share. We can’t share with our own poor, nor with the poor outside our lands. And none of us has enough.

So what’s the Church to do? How can we lead by example? To be certain we don’t always do that. Sometimes we’re happy to talk about the unborn, but the unhoused (or the unnationed) escape our attention.

Let me introduce you to the Gubbio Project: giving the homeless children of God a place to rest, to eat, to shower, and to socialize in unused Church space. And really, who better to dwell in the tabernacle of the Lord than his living icons?

Give up Wut?


The Readings for Tuesday in the 8th Week of Ordinary Time (B2)

Et coepit ei Petrus dicere : Ecce nos dimisimus omnia, et secuti sumus te.

Behold, we have left all things, and have followed thee. 

When it comes to giving up all things, the Apostles actually did, right? To follow Jesus, for them, was a physical choice as well as a spiritual one. They gave up homes and families, they gave up jobs and community standing, they gave up their chances to go back – especially after their Rabbi was named as apostate by the Elders and tortured and slain by the Roman state. And, to follow was to move around a lot to sleep in odd places, to walk for hundreds of miles – in addition to changing their minds about politics, morals, religion, and a whole host of other things. Follow was, perhaps, too weak a word for us to read. It really means “changed worlds for you,” right? How can we compare that to what it costs us, in America, to follow Jesus today – when even the most casual observer expects nothing out of a “Christian” than to vote Republican and bemoan all the sex and abortions people are having?

What do we give up these days, in America? There are places where it is hard to be a Christian and keep your job, yes, but most of us are so neutral in our affect that our presence is rarely noted.

Think of the Great Reformers who challenged the world around them as well as the Church to return Jesus to the center of the stage: St Anthony and St John Chrysostom, St Benedict and St Gregory the Great. Think of Saints Francis of Assisi and St Dominic, think of St Catherine of Siena, or St Maria of Paris, think of millions of martyrs under the Communists in the Soviet Union and world wide, or of the martyrs slain by the Nazis, or American-backed right wing dictators in Mexico and Central America. They challenge the political status quo, yes, but also the Church herself, as she becomes too complacent with her place power and connections in the world. Yet there were millions (even in the Church) who wished those folks would just keep quiet.

Pope Francis is making uncomfortable some who put “America” before “Catholic” in their world, forgetting the fullness of Catholic teaching. Pope Benedict did the same, angering those who put “PC” before Catholic in their thinking. Pope Francis’ major “failing” seems to be his soundbites are more quotable by the left than the right. But the bites, themselves, are rather meaningless platitudes without the teaching of the Church heard behind them. His talk of the poor, of the environment, of charity, of the wealthy, of peace is all within the bounds of the Gospel: just that he sounds less “American” and more “Foreign”. We’re used to being the center of attention (especially the wealthy). Francis won’t grant us that stage.

In his First Epistle (written a few years after his cry about giving up everything) the leader of the Apostles says to the Church, 

Therefore gird up your minds, be sober, set your hope fully upon the grace that is coming to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in all your conduct; since it is written, You shall be holy, for I am holy.

We have to gird up our minds: to face facts. We’re not to be thinking of worldly things any more. Politics, wealth, position, influence, or even connection with those things. This is why St Dominic had his preachers take an oath of poverty: because the unbelievers he wanted to reach didn’t respect anyone who lived in wealthy status and dared to try to tell them what to do. The Gospel must be communicated in humility: not from the Papal Palace, but from a quiet shack in the poorest Favela. The rich must humble themselves to hear it (as we read yesterday). The poor are the only ones pre-qualified. The powerful must humble themselves, the marginalized are already set up. 

Now: don’t get me wrong. There are some who are poor and marginalized that want to take the Gospel as a sort of political banner, allowing them to steal and cheat and become wealthy and powerful. But no… the rewards of this world are, themselves, corrupt. And they absolutely corrupt us if we seek them for themselves they are like Sauron’s ring, and we find we can’t use evil for good.

But if we seek to use the goods of this world (which God made, yes) in the manner God intended, then we are all made a little more poor that all may be justly shared together. We cannot use people and love things, but rather we love people and use things to make all things better for all. I must seek the goods of this world exactly to give them to those who don’t have them, to the poor. God puts success and wealth in my hand only so that I can build a more just world around me in my acts of personal piety and in my political choices.

However: this premise puts us at odds with the world. The landlords who want to shut out the poor, the wealthy who don’t want the poor on their streets, the powerful who want to “seal the border” and yet traffic in slaves for personal and corporate profit will all begin to see us as their enemies in our very mode of life. Those who seek to hoard all the things into their little estates where they can enjoy hedonism without consequence and even pretend to be Christians at the same time will see us as their accusers in our very mode of life. Those who seek Justice and Equality without reference to Divine Revelation will by default build inequity and injustice into their projects. They too will see us as their enemies for in the end we are working towards different goals. 

In the end, a Christian can have no enemy and so cannot call any one human in the world “my enemy”. We cannot not love – equally – anyone God puts in our path. There is no political construct in the world today that does not have named enemies. So, in the end, no Christian can follow any political construct of this world to its logical conclusions.  At best, we can only be resident aliens in any political system or party, in any philosophy or action constructed outside of the Church.

In the end, we have to give up everything to follow Jesus.

I hear the Grand Slam is good.


The Readings for Trinity Sunday (B2)

Et videntes eum adoraverunt : quidam autem dubitaverunt.
And seeing him they adored: but some doubted. 

This is my favourite verse in the New Testament. It’s huge. Because it’s the end of a pure church. The Apostles have been with Jesus for 40 days since Easter, here we are on a distant mountain, the veil between the worlds is so thin that Jesus is about to pass bodily into heaven. They worship… but some doubt. Even now? Really?

The Greek for this doubt is not a simple opposite to “Trust”. It is διστάζω distazo meaning “to waver”.  To be of two minds about something, to stand at a crossroads or a fork and want one or the other choice. It’s to waffle. It’s used one other time in the New Testament, also in Mathew: When Jesus grasps Peter’s hand in the middle of the ocean. “O you of little faith, why did you “distazo”? Then Jesus pulls Peter out of the water and puts him back into the boat (which some read as a symbol for the Church). Here on the mountain, though, Jesus sends those of little faith out into the world as evangelists.

What a risk! What a God who loves us.

When I left the Episcopal Church I went looking for a pure church: one that was free of waffling. This was the wrong thing to go looking for. Father Victor, of blessed memory, warned me, even then, that I was not coming into a perfect church, or a pure church, but rather the True Church. It took me a while to realize the truth of that statement. Protestantism seems to come in two modes: to either fix the wafflers (by suppression or expulsion) or to celebrate them (by changing doctrine at the drop of a hat). What I found in the better places of Orthodoxy, and what I find continually in those same sort of places in Catholicism, is a challenge to waffling. 

Come in. Yes. Hear the fullness of the faith. Yes. Be taught, be formed in it. Yes. Struggle to grasp it, to understand it, to inculcate it into your life. Yes. And be honest about the struggle. The writings of many saints, including journals of St Theresa of Calcutta and Alexander Schmemann and the Dialogues of St Catherine of Sienna, show us that waffling continues.  Although the waffling may, by God’s grace, lessen over time, the only unwaffled Catholic is a dead one. 

And on this mountain, God does what? And he takes this batch of wafflers and sends them out into the world to teach and to make disciples! Glory to God! Jesus says to them, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” That’s the answer: we don’t have that. Jesus does. The prayer at Mass says, ne respicias peccata nostra Regard not our sins but the faith of your church. Don’t look at the places we each mess up, but rather look together on us all (which includes us, the living, certainly, but the vast majority of the Church is not us…). Look on all of us in your Body.

We have a job to do, despite our troubles grasping the fullness of the faith. When we have trouble, though, ours is not to demand the church change to please us for we are not Protestants. Nor is ours the place to publicly proclaim our waffling as the “real” Catholicism, for that is heresy and schism. Struggle away. As long as the struggle is to the eventual conforming of yourself to Christ (and not the reverse) it is a lifelong struggle and no one expects less. Most of us will need an even longer struggle than that. 

So for this lifetime we are doubting evangelists, wafflers. We are called to proclaim that which, because of our very human frailty, we can only glimpse from time to time, can only manage to live in certain moments. We are called to “taste and see”, but the banquet must wait until heaven.

Meanwhile, there’s a place for us off of nearly every highway exit. You should join me for breakfast there on Sundays and don’t forget to tip your server.

A Catechesis of Despair.


The Readings for  in the Week of Pentecost (B2)

Et offerebant illi parvulos ut tangeret illos. Discipuli autem comminabantur offerentibus.
And they brought to him young children, that he might touch them. And the disciples rebuked them that brought them. 

When Judgement Day comes many folks who are by human eyes judged as mortal sinners in recent votes in Ireland will be forgiven, I think.

It was not they who taught the people to kowtow to the wealthy Brits under Victoria, nor to support the Nazis in the Spanish Civil War. It was not the voters who abandoned the people to support the occupying powers (on both sides), or who fled when the scene got too hot. It was not the people who abused women and children outside of wedlock, nor was it children who abused the clergy.

Votes driven anger at what should be holy, and caring, loving, grace-filled, liberating and majestic, but was instead grubbing, lost, abusive, enslaving, and perverse may be, in the end, forgiven. For how can they know the truth if they have never heard it? How can they hear it if it is never preached to them? All they have been taught has led to despair.

The death of millions may lay on the hands of the Church.

Who is gonna keep you outta glory?


The Readings for Friday in the Week of Pentecost (B2)

Nolite ingemiscere, fratres, in alterutrum, ut non judicemini. Ecce judex ante januam assistit.
Grudge not, brethren, one against another, that you may not be judged. Behold the judge standeth before the door.

I heard a sermon earlier this week that struck home hard: paraphrasing the Lord’s Prayer, the priest says, “Lord, forgive me my sins as I forgive…” and he asked us to fill in the blank with our worst enemy, or the person who most easily makes us angry. I confess the latter category is my family, and I bring this up in confession often enough. This one I’m working on. But enemies? I had to struggle with this. I don’t really have enemies.

The Greek, though, and the Latin here, used by St James, is much stronger than Father’s homily: because it’s a weaker verb. It’s not who do I hate, or who makes me angry.  The Greek is στενάζω stenazo to groan or to sigh – specifically within oneself, unexpressed. Who, St James asks, makes you tense up and roll your eyes?

That’s the person that stands between you and salvation. How do you get passed that?

I don’t have any enemies (that I know of) but I have a lot of things that make my eyes roll, and a lot of things that make me sigh heavily. And when I say, “things” I mean people.

St James tells us not do do this with the brethren, but, of course, we know from Jesus not to do it at all. James calls us out for doing this to the brethren, thought. You always hurt the ones you love. Folks that don’t matter don’t mind. We can look at the crazy lady in the cash register line at the Piggly Wiggly and just say, “Bless her heart….” but when it comes to the crazy lady singing and off key and off tempo soprano in the pew behind us, Christian charity goes right out the door. The horrors of sex on the tv can be resolved by changing the channel with nary a blink, but someone wearing the wrong clothes in Mass deserves a bit of whispering.

The thing that kept me writing this post all day is how many times I wanted to put in true stories of people in Church who make me angry.

The same, I think, holds true at the office, no? And maybe the Piggly Wiggly?

But our Money says “In God We Trust…”


The Readings for Thursday in the Week of Pentecost (B2)

Ecce merces operariorum, qui messuerunt regiones vestras, quae fraudata est a vobis, clamat : et clamor eorum in aures Domini sabbaoth introivit. Epulati estis super terram, et in luxuriis enutristis corda vestra in die occisionis. 

Behold, the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out; and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts. You have lived on the earth in luxury and in pleasure; you have fattened your hearts in a day of slaughter. 

James is certainly condemning the wealthy of Rome, here. They held an economic and cultural hegemony on the entire world at that point. Economic because all wealth flowed to Rome for consumption, but cultural as well, because anyone who pretended to be wealthy pretended to be Roman. And they exported their culture by force: tying their ideas about morality, freedom, politics, and economy to any process of local advancement: you want to be king in your country, make it Roman. So James is not only speaking of Romans, but also of Jews (and others) who pretended to wealth, aping the standards of Rome.

The story of Sodom and Gomorrah will be familiar to you, if only because you have been exposed to the horror story version or the sexualized version in some movie or TV show. You may also know the Bible Version in Genesis 18 and 19. Americans (religious or not) are prone to taking brief passages of the Scripture to make their point and ignoring what comes first and follows after. It is, however, the context that makes the story – not the meaning we add to it. Sex is not the meaning. 

The Icon above is generally styled “The Holy Trinity” and it was painted by St Andrei Rublev (1360-1430). Done in 1425, the theme is more properly called “The Hospitality of Abraham” because it shows the three Angels visiting Abraham and Sarah, as recording in Genesis 18:1-8ff:

And the Lord appeared to him in the vale of Mambre as he was sitting at the door of his tent, in the very heat of the day. And when he had lifted up his eyes, there appeared to him three men standing near to him: and as soon as he saw them, he ran to meet them from the door of his tent, and adored down to the ground. And he said: Lord, if I have found favour in thy sight, pass not away from thy servant. But I will fetch a little water, and wash ye your feet, and rest ye under the tree. And I will set a morsel of bread, and strengthen ye your heart, afterwards you shall pass on: for therefore are you come aside to your servant. And they said: Do as thou hast spoken. Abraham made haste into the tent to Sara, and said to her: Make haste, temper together three measures of flour, and make cakes upon the hearth. And he himself ran to the herd, and took from thence a calf, very tender and very good, and gave it to a young man, who made haste and boiled it. He took also butter and milk, and the calf which he had boiled, and set before them: but he stood by them under the tree. 

This story of Hospitality is the prologue to the story Sodom. After a wonderful conversation where Sarah laughs at God, the three men get ready to go.

And when the men rose up from thence, they turned their eyes towards Sodom: and Abraham walked with them, bringing them on the way. And the Lord said: Can I hide from Abraham what I am about to do: Seeing he shall become a great and mighty nation, and in him all the nations of the earth shall be blessed? For I know that he will command his children, and his household after him, to keep the way of the Lord, and do judgment and justice: that for Abraham’s sake, the Lord may bring to effect all the things he hath spoken unto him. And the Lord said: The cry of Sodom and Gomorrha is multiplied, and their sin is become exceedingly grievous. I will go down and see whether they have done according to the cry that is come to me; or whether it be not so, that I may know.

Traditional, very conservative Jewish Biblical commentary is filled with many entirely non-sexual reasons for that cry that ascended to God: greed, abuse of slaves, injustice, pride; lack of care for the poor that was so extreme you could be punished for feeding the homeless  –  like in Fort Lauderdale and some twenty other locations in the USA. St James sees in Rome this exact pattern.

The Midrash tells two tales of righteous women who dared extend a helping hand to beggars and were put to death:

Two maidens of Sodom met at the well, where they had both gone to drink and fill up their water jugs. One girl asked her friend, “Why is your face so pale?” Her friend answered, “We have nothing to eat at home, and are dying of starvation.” Her compassionate friend filled her own jug with flour, and exchanged it for her friend’s jug of water. When the Sodomites found out about her act, they burnt her to death.

A second tale:

It was announced in Sodom, “Whoever will give bread to a poor person will be burnt at the stake.” 

Plotit, the daughter of Lot, who was married to a prominent Sodomite, once saw a poor man who was so hungry that he was unable to stand. She felt sorry for him. From then on, she made sure to pass him every day on her way to the well, and she would feed him some food that she had stashed in her water jug. 

People wondered how the man managed to live. Upon investigation, they discovered her act and prepared to burn her. Before she died, she turned to G‑d and cried, “Master of the world, carry out justice on my behalf!” Her cries pierced the heavens, and at that moment G‑d said, “I will go down and see if what they have done is as bad as the outcry that has reached Me.”

Moderns with a more liberal political agenda like to make much of such stories and say Sodom was destroyed for violations of the Desert Code of Hospitality. This is truth! The Synagogue lays the Hospitality of Abraham for the three angels specifically in sharp contrast to the lack of hospitality in Sodom. These texts are read every year together on the same Sabbath. We can learn much meditating on how Abraham (and, later, Lot) treats the Three Strangers, who happen to be the Holy Trinity in Christian typology and iconography, as compared to how all others in Sodom treat the same Three Strangers.

This understanding is good and true as far as it goes but, of course, words matter: when we moderns hear “hospitality” we do not hear “matter of life and death in the desert” but rather “Grandma was always a gracious hostess” or something about Waffle House, and a number of Yelp stars. No matter how many times it might be explained, the divine obligation of care for the stranger (regardless of culture or divinity) is totally lost as a social responsibility in today’s culture. In rejecting Syrian refugees, or Latin American children, in abandoning the poor, the homeless, the jobless youth, America becomes another Sodom. 

Such hospitality, in the better places, is relegated as an obligation to the state and forgotten by individuals and, God help us, even by Churches. In the worst places, like Sodom and Fort Lauderdale, it is outlawed all together. Even Churches in Fort Sodomdale fail to protest. The Churches in San Francisco which, for other – entirely wrong – reasons, is often compared to Sodom, are again failing the poor, as we have not only a Temp Mayor, but an entire crop of politicians who are literally sweeping the poor off our streets in the name of the Rich. In fact, some churches are playing along. Some are not, really. St Bonaventure’s has converted parts of their physical plant to care for the poor of the neighborhood, installing even showers in the church. Meanwhile, St Mary’s Cathedral has installed showers outside… But if all the faith leaders of SF were to ban together to protest the treatment of the poor, would the Catholic Mayor of SF listen? Or would he be swayed by the lamentations of the Rich, who are scared of the poor, who are discomfited by the poor, who need a safe space from the poor. 

Our treatment of the poor and the stranger is exactly – as in the case of Abraham – how we treat God.

America’s Sodomy goes even further. Our electronic devices, our clothing, even our food is the product of a virtual slavery in which we hold the entire world. Sometimes the slavery is not very virtual at all. There is nary a tomato sold out of season in the USA that is not the product of indentured servitude. Our clothes and all our cheap stuff we justify by saying “we are giving them jobs” when, in fact, they managed to get by for millennia without our jobs, but now need jobs because we have forced our economic system on them in the name of our security. 

So deep is our problem that I have to type this – and you have to read it – on the very products of our slavery. And we both have to feel good about it: because how else would we even communicate now? Most (all?) Catholic Apostolates make unquestioning use of electronics that are built, in the same way as our Christmas ornaments, by impoverished wage slaves in third world dictatorships held in place by our economic choices. How can that be that the Gospel should ride on the backs of slaves? San Francisco’s entire economy is built on this part of our hegemony. 

James is certainly condemning the wealthy of Rome, here. But James is condemning America as well. We hold an economic and cultural hegemony on the entire world at this point. Economic because all wealth flows to America for consumption, but cultural as well, because anyone who pretends to be wealthy pretends to be American. And we export our culture by force: tying our ideas about morality, freedom, politics, and economy to any gov’t charity. So James is not only speaking of Romans, but also of Americans who pretend to wealth – even Christians – and are aping the standards of Rome.

Deus Vult!


The Readings for Wednesday in the Week of Pentecost (B2)

Si Dominus voluerit. Et : Si vixerimus, faciemus hoc, aut illud. 
 If the Lord will, and if we shall live, we will do this or that. 

I watched the Pope Francis movie last Saturday. One of the things it did was provide a huge amount of context for some of the Liberal Press’ favourite Francis quotes. The one that got me in the solar plexus was a rather loaded question about “the gay lobby” in the Church. It was presented on the airplane in rather oleaginous manner by an obsequious woman who felt she had to ask “permission to ask a question about a very delicate matter…” and then asked His Holiness how he was going to “confront the gay lobby in the church”. In the days of my political activism, having heard many such questions, I would have said “hater”. In this case, I won’t say that because being close to power makes us all very odd – as does being a journalist. Every journalist wants the Power to Say Something and to get kudos from their fellows for getting a good quote.

When confronted by such a disingenuous question the Pope let fly. The question, which, for all that it was well-oiled and fully pumped up with big words, really should be translated as, “Will you tell gay people to get out of the church?” The reply – now well known – was sound bitten as “who am I to judge?” Yet in full context the reply was a reminder to the journalist, to everyone on the flight, and to the rest of us, that God calls us all to holiness. There were quotes from the catechism, and a good bit of puffing from the Holy Father. It doesn’t matter where you start the walk, or how long it takes to get there, it’s where you end that’s important. And the Pope was asking in reply that if someone who identifies as Gay is sincerely seeking the Lord, who is he (or any of us) to judge? There are a lot of folks in the Church – gay and straight – who are not seeking the Lord at all. We have more to worry about. Yes, who am I to judge, but also, who are you to judge? 

Within the last couple of days Pope Francis has said something that has been reported as “God makes some people gay.”  I’ve been asked what I thought about it and, since I don’t believe in ontological differences based on sexual desire, I think it’s a fair question for me. And, coincidentally, here comes today’s reading from St James:

Behold, now you that say: Today or tomorrow we will go into such a city, and there we will spend a year, and will traffic, and make our gain. Whereas you know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is a vapour which appeareth for a little while, and afterwards shall vanish away. For that you should say: If the Lord will, and if we shall live, we will do this or that.

This passage reminds me that we don’t get to pick the events in our lives. We only get to pick the way we react to them. There is a line used by the Orthodox to discuss both the Fall of Constantinople to the Turks and also the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia: these God allowed to happen to the Church “because of our sins”.  Oddly this same line is never used to discuss the sack of Constantinople by the Latins which can be traced exactly to a political power play inside the Byzantine world that resulted in a bunch of Angry Latins. Does God allow political falls or not? Am I who I am because God made me this way? Does such formation happen at such an early age that it’s not possible to answer such a question?

It God wills and we live, we shall…

We are not trapped into our choices: but we are not in control of events. Does God make your parents get divorced? Or does God allow it to happen? Is some part of the “what makes me gay” having been raised by a single mother? Or having been abandoned by her? The divine pattern is not what makes us: it is the matrix in which we are made by our choices and our dance. 

In the larger context of Catholic teaching the Pope has said nothing new. God made me. God loves me. Because I have been raised by Christian parents in a Christian context this is not news to me. Even though my family and my churches growing up had some messed up ways of showing that love, they inculcated that knowledge in me. The older I get, the more I realize that my identity, my sense of self, my actions must all be in response to that primordial knowledge. God made me. God loves me. While I have some seriously rough places of selfishness, of dysfunction, of brokenness, of scars from my past – caused by others and by my own bad choices – I have a daily choice: do I act from those places, or do I act from the knowledge that God made me and God loves me? 

I can freely decide to make any corner of my being the very center and prime directive of my life. Or if God wills and we shall live,  I can act from that knowledge that God made me and God loves me.

I’m with the Pope on this one.

Shine! Shine, O New Jerusalem


The Readings for Mary, Mother of the Church
Monday in the Week of Pentecost (B2)

Diligit Dominus portas Sion super omnia tabernacula Jacob. Gloriosa dicta sunt de te, civitas Dei! Numquid Sion dicet : Homo et homo natus est in ea? et ipse fundavit eam Altissimus.
The Lord loveth the gates of Sion above all the tabernacles of Jacob. Glorious things are said of thee, O city of God. Shall not Sion say: This man and that man is born in her? and the Highest himself hath founded her. 

In the Eastern Rite, there is a hymn sung at every Divine Liturgy during the Easter Season. In part, it runs:

Shine! Shine
O, New Jerusalem!
The glory of the Lord
Has shown, on you!

This hymn, seemingly (and truly) about the City in the book of St John’s Apocalypse, is in fact a hymn about the Mother of God. In full it runs like this:

The Angel cried to the Lady full of Grace
Rejoice, O Pure Virgin! 
Again I say: Rejoice! 
Your Son is risen from His three days in the tomb! 
With Himself He has raised all the dead! 
Rejoice, all you people!
Shine! Shine 
O New Jerusalem! 
The Glory of the Lord 
has shone on you! 
Exult now, exult 
and be glad, O Zion! 
Be radiant, 
O Pure Theotokos, 
in the Resurrection of your Son!

The interplay of images is important: the New Jerusalem is the Church; it is also the Theotokos, the Dei Para, Mary, the Mother of God. Mary is the birth-giver of God, the church is his body, Mary is the Mother of the Church. In the Resurrection of Christ, the Church rises from the dead as well and Mary, who is both a member of the Church and the Mother of the Church, draws us all upward in her sinlessness. This rich interplay of images is brought to the West today with a new feast, instituted by Pope Francis: the Memorial of Mary the Mother of the Church.

The title itself predates the feast going back before the Schism between East and West. Yet liturgically this title had to wait until Pope St John Paul II added the “Mother of the Church” to the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary in 1980.

All of the Psalms are prophecy of Christ: so, taking the city of Jerusalem as a type of the Blessed Virgin, we see in today’s Responsorial Psalm that the Lord loves the Gates of Zion above all the houses of Jacob. Zion here is Jerusalem, and so the Blessed Virgin herself. Zion is the Church as well, as the Eastern Hymn says, called to Exult not only in the Resurrection of Jesus, but also in the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit, poured out on her in all fullness, and on all the Church in the feast of Pentecost, making a great chiasmas of the Christ Event.

This man is born in her (in Mary) is Christ, but all of us are born in the Church, that is, in Mary. We are her daughters and sons in that we are children of the Church. As the Church is our Mother, so is Mary. The Font is the tomb of Christ, the womb of the Church where we are born anew. The altar is the tomb of Christ, and the table of the Holy House, where our Mother feeds us. The Gates of Zion are round about us. Here is an 11th century image from the Monte Cassino Psalter of the Church as Mother. Mater Ecclesia, (as opposed to Mater Ecclesiae, Mother of the Church).

And so this feast ties a lot of things together: Mother, Mary, Church, Body of Christ, and us as Children of Church, Children of Mary, Sons and Daughters of God in Christ.

I am not even yet adding to this tapestry the Holy Mystery of the Eucharist in which we are the Body of Christ, fed on the Body of Christ, within the Body of Christ. Christ who is both God and Man, uniting in himself the Divine and the Human, the spiritual and eternal, the celestial and the earthly, feeding us himself, into that same divine dance shared by the Holy Trinity.  Created by God the Father, redeemed in Love by the God the Son, and overshadowed in Love by God the Holy Spirit. We are, as St Basil says, creatures of dirt given the vocation to become divine.

Maria, Mater Ecclesiae, ora pro nobis!

Cheating on my Husband.


The Readings for Tuesday in the Week of Pentecost (B2)

Adulteri, nescitis quia amicitia hujus mundi inimica est Dei? quicumque ergo voluerit amicus esse saeculi hujus, inimicus Dei constituitur.
Adulterers, know you not that the friendship of this world is the enemy of God? Whosoever therefore will be a friend of this world, becometh an enemy of God. 

When James uses the word “adulterers” here, he means we are not being faithful to our relationship with God. We may think we’re being polyamorous but God wants us all to himself. We’re cheating on him.

I never know how to navigate this. Look sex I can handle. Racism, Ecology, Peace, Justice… this I can handle. But when someone asks me where I want to be in 5 years time, the answer has always been “closer to heaven”. In as much as I’ve always wanted to be a priest, I don’t have any map for success, or any idea of what it would look like. Increasingly, though, as that goal seems less and less likely, I’ve listened to my friend, Steve Robinson: 

  • I need to be an adult: 
    • pay my bills, 
    • say my prayers, 
    • support my parish, 
    • and love my parents. 
In as much as the Church’s preferential option must be for the poor, my every breath must be exhausted defending them, supporting them, sacrificing for them. Since I am a single man with no family to support I have more of an obligation to do so than someone with kids and the added vocational direction of supporting his family.

But every paycheck that comes in means I can buy more toys, or save for my future. Every meeting with a manager is a chance to succeed, every business deal with a deal worth making.

And I don’t know what counts as friend of this world in this context. When I sit in my own apartment not only do I feel alone most nights, I also feel like I’m wasting money. The question for me is not should I be living in a community and donating more money and time to the mission of the Church but rather how can I make this happen?

This is the part is that is most painful for me: the part that feels like a failure. I’ve become successful and so as much as I thank God for this success, I also feel like a hypocrite in doing so. It’s not an ambivalent relationship to worldly success but rather a train wreck of an illicit affair. Back in September I posted all that follows: it’s a way to not be an adulterer. It starts with a quite from Blessed John Henry Cardinal Newman:

God has created me to do Him some definite service; He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission — I never may know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. Somehow I am necessary for His purposes, as necessary in my place as an Archangel in his — if, indeed, I fail, He can raise another, as He could make the stones children of Abraham. Yet I have a part in this great work; I am a link in a chain, a bond of connexion between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good, I shall do His work; I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it, if I do but keep His commandments and serve Him in my calling.

The thing that I see there, that is the most important, is that Blessed John Henry doesn’t send you out on some Vocational Discernment Weekend, nor does he say you need to go hide in the desert until some vision strikes you: only, I shall be a angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it, if I do but keep his commandments and serve him in my calling,  by which last he means “in my daily work”.

Elsewhere in this same book, (Meditations and Devotions) he offers a very simple rule of life – as quoted by the Catholic Gentleman – to direct us all on the way to Sainthood. Not nominal, least-common denominator mushiness, mind you, but full-on sainthood:
  • Do not lie in bed beyond the due time of rising;
  • give your first thoughts to God;
  • make a good visit to the Blessed Sacrament;
  • say the Angelus devoutly;
  • eat and drink to God’s glory;
  • say the Rosary well;
  • be recollected; keep out bad thoughts;
  • make your evening meditation well;
  • examine yourself daily;
  • go to bed in good time, and you are already perfect.

To this I would add this simple rule, offered by Alexander Schmemann in his journals (Mindul that he was writing privately, yes, but to a hypothetical reader who – like me – was craving monastic obedience as the magic panacea for whatever it is that ails you):

  • get a job, if possible the simplest one, without creativity (for example as a cashier in a bank);
  • while working, pray and seek inner peace; do no get angry; do not think of yourself (rights, fairness, etc.). Accept everyone (coworkers, clients) as someone sent to you; pray for them;
  • after paying for a modest apartment and groceries, give your money to the poor; to individuals rather than foundations;
  • always go to the same church and there try to be a real helper, not by lecturing about spiritual life or icons, not by teaching but with a “dust rag” (cf. St Seraphim of Sarov). Keep at that kind of service and be–in church matters–totally obedient to the parish priest.
  • do not thrust yourself and your service on anyone; do not be sad that your talents are not being used; be helpful; serve where needed and not where you think you are needed;
  • read and learn as much as you can; do not read only monastic literature, but broadly (this point needs more precise definition);
  • if friends and acquaintances invite you because they are close to you–go; but not too often, and within reason. Never stay more than one and a half or two hours. After that the friendliest atmosphere becomes harmful;
  • dress like everybody else, but modestly, and without visible signs of a special spiritual life;
  • be always simple, light, joyous. Do not teach. Avoid like the plague any “spiritual” conversations and any religious or churchly idle talk. If you act that way, everything will be to your benefit;
  • do not seek a spiritual elder or guide. If he is needed, God will send him, and will send him when needed;
  • having worked and served this way for ten years–no less–ask God whether you should continue to live this way, or whether change is needed. And wait for an answer: it will come; the signs will be “joy and peace in the Holy Spirit.”
You can grow and use all your gifts this way. 

And if you can’t then try again. Be faithful in piety and love, God will give you ways to use your gifts and you will always see them and fulfill them.

Now: I fail in this daily, but I don’t feel like a “failure” in this. All I need is more folks to join me.

Light one candle.


The Readings for Saturday in the 7th Week of Easter (B2)

Domine, hic autem quid?
Quid ad te? tu me sequere. 
Lord, what about him?
What is that to you? You follow me.

Peter, with a growing sense of… something… turns around and sees the Evangelist John taking notes like some Cub Reporter. Peter – who has just been given his prime directive – looks back at Jesus and says, What about him? It could mean, What’s his prime directive? Or it could mean: Why’s he standing there? What’s he doing? Does he always follow you around taking notes? Do you have a job for him? Did he betray you too? It could even mean, He didn’t betray you like I did, why not bother him with this stuff about feeding your sheep?

Jesus says, Like you should care. Follow me.

When I was Orthodox, advice like this came in handy during Lent: don’t let someone else’s fasting (or lack of fasting) influence yours. It’s so easy to get hung up on how they are doing it wrong. This is especially true if they are actually wrong. Because then the question becomes, Why are they getting away with it? And after that is uttered (mentally, at least) in all its judge-y glory, the very next question is, Can I get away with it too?

Except fasting – Catholic or Orthodox – is not about food. Fasting in the Christian tradition is about training the will. God has said all foods are clean. But it is tough, is it not, to forego something when it looks so good! That thing may be meat. That thing may be ice cream. That thing may be TV shows on Saturday night when you should be doing lectio for the Sunday readings. Fasting is important because it trains your will to avoid the big things later.  And the one thing you should never do when training the will is turn to Jesus and say, Domine, hic autem quid? Yea, what about him? That’s what I want to know…. Jesus pats you on the head and says, Zok nit kin vey, Zuninkeh, Don’t worry my little one. Fardinen a mitzveh, Do a good deed.

The problem is that this worrying about the other guy can continue.  A lot of my friends ask why they should be chaste when so many people in the Church are not. The question assumes two things: that the asker knows exactly what is going on the person’s moral life and that morality is a majority vote when it is not. The question assumes that one’s salvation is not as important as other people’s fun. The question is best translated, Shouldn’t we all be damned together? This is a far cry from Peter’s question, true, but who of us is going to meet an apostle talking to Jesus? When we ask, “What about that guy?” We are not asking, “Why is he going to live forever?” but rather, “Why does he get to have hamburgers in Lent?” or, more likely, “Why does she get to support abortion and still take communion?” or “Why do they get to live together and have sex and still work as the parish secretary and choir director?” “Why does he get to be such a crass, rude, and inconsiderate so-and-so and still get to be president and hailed by Christians?”

While this may all be the fault of bad clergy, and the reality of mob-rule, the church is filled with humans: and that includes the clergy.  All these humans need your virtue more than you need to sin. Your  virtue, practiced in the praise of God, will elevate them – and the world around you. Your sin is only more of the same grey swamp. But one lit candle will change it all. Don’t fall prey to the darkness. Don’t curse it either. Change it.

Feed my sheep.