café theology

The Cathedral of St. Patrick Young Adults announced that the Archdiocese of New York will be conducing its 2nd annual “24 Hours of Confession” from 5-6 March 2010 at parishes throughout the Archdiocese. While I commend the Archdiocese of New York for taking this step, much more is needed if the importance of the Sacrament of Reconciliation is to be increased in the lives of Catholics.

A sense of Catholic culture, in general, must be restored. This begins with re-capturing the liturgical traditions that have been lost in the misinterpretation of Vatican II. It seems that, in much of America today, it is difficult to tell whether one is attending a Catholic mass or a Protestant service (e.g. Life Teen). Many of the parish structures look the same, and much of the music sounds identical as some mistakenly see the way forward as shifting with the whims of the age in liturgy and/or thought. As a result, many Catholics have lost sight of what separates us from our Protestant brethren, especially with regard to the Eucharist as the focal point of the mass, instead basing faith on fleeting emotional highs that cannot be sustained indefinitely.

Additionally, the past several decades have left us a laity that is poorly catechized. I will offer myself as a case in point. I attended school at Shrine of the Little Flower in Royal Oak, MI for much of my youth. Thankfully, the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati still wore habits at that time (They’ve since removed their habits and engaged in open revolt against the Church.). However, the downward trajectory of catechesis was apparent in the fact that I learned little else from the sisters than 1) Jesus loves me and 2) I’m special. At the age of 25, I was so ignorant of my faith that I was unable to explain to a well-meaning Protestant friend the difference between mortal and venial sin. That embarrassing realization of ignorance began my “awakening”. Prior to that experience, I saw no importance in confession. After all, I thought, should not my sins be between me and God? Why should I tell them to some priest? After my eyes were opened, the need for repentance became clear. Forming a properly catechized laity that reveres the Eucharist is vital to drawing more Catholics to the confessional.

To properly catechize the laity, the clergy must take their vocation seriously. The priesthood is not a job. It is a calling, and that calling requires that the priest devote his whole life and his entire being to feeding Christ’s sheep. In battle there is no time for rest lest mortal lives be lost. In spiritual battle, the stakes are infinitely higher, as eternal souls are at stake. The devil does not rest and does not consider his prowling about the Earth a mere hobby. Neither should the priest become lax in his vocation to defeat this enemy and save the souls that Satan seeks to devour. This requires heroic virtue.

For me, the embodiment of the priestly vocation is a dear friend and mentor, Fr. George Rutler. He is the pastor of, and only priest at, The Church of Our Saviour in mid-town Manhattan. Yet, despite being the only priest at the parish, he reverently celebrates mass twice daily and four times on Sunday. He also hears confessions every day of the week, including before the 1100 mass on Sunday. Furthermore, he speaks the Truth, as proclaimed by Christ and His Church, rather than watering down the Faith or simply telling others what they wish to hear.

As Fr. Rutler pointed out to John Janaro in the 1986 book “Fishers of Men”: “[A] priest should never spend more time eating in any given day than he does hearing confessions.”

It is a shame that more priests do not take this advice, for it would do far more to draw people to the confessional than a once a year push.

Nicholas

It was Christmas Day at my old parish. At the end of mass, parishioners found it difficult to pray as a gentleman’s 2-year old son ran amok. It was then that a prominent parishioner approached the man and asked him to control his child. The man indignantly refused, exacerbating the situation, and thus causing the prominent parishioner to respond by loudly chastising him in front of the sanctuary. In the midst of the melee, another parishioner, a young woman, approached the the distinguished parishioner. The young woman, somewhat annoyed at this point, asked the distinguished parishioner to move her chastisement outside the church. Shortly before this happened, an unknown person remarked of the child “Two-year olds cannot control themselves.” The distinguished parishioner, assuming the young woman made the remark, replied by harshly and loudly telling the young woman “You’re what’s wrong with the Church. You’re a fool.” To which the young woman replied “If I’m a fool for asking you to respect that Christ is right there–gesturing to the tabernacle–then God bless you and Merry Christmas.” The young woman left the Church visibly upset at the insult blindly hurled her way.

This situation offers several lessons for all of us as Christians. The first lesson is the importance of prudence. Was the child’s behavior disruptive to other parishioners? Yes. Was the child’s father wrong in his unwillingness to discipline his child? Yes. However, prudence dictates that one not create a bigger scene than the one he is trying to end. The distinguished parishioner showed a severe lack of prudence in berating the father and creating more noise and disruption than that created by the unruly 2-year old. The prudent choice would have been to do what the young woman asked the distinguished parishioners to do and take up a reasoned and civilized discourse outside the Church.

The second lesson is one of charity. Sometimes, harshness can be the greatest charity. However, the distinguished parishioner proved most uncharitable in three regards. First, she berated a man without attempting to understand his predicament. She made a rash judgment of his character without exploring mitigating circumstances. After all, we are all fallible and have bad days. Second, she showed an inexcusable lack of charity toward the young woman in telling the young woman “You are what’s wrong with the Church. You’re a fool.” What entitles the distinguished parishioner to make such a bold and foolish judgment of the young woman? Her friendship with the pastor? Her piety? The Apostle Paul told us not to judge before the day of the Lord. If the distinguished parishioner knew the young woman as I do, she would have known that the young woman is the opposite of what she declared her to be. The young woman is everything that is right with the Church. Third, the distinguished parishioner showed an overall lack of charity by setting a bad example in front of our Lord in the tabernacle. The parish where the incident occurred is frequented by many visitors who travel to hear the pastor preach the Word of God. I would not blame any of them for leaving the parish and thinking to themselves “What a bunch of self-righteous bastards.” And that truly embarrasses me.

The mass is a time of contemplation of the mysteries of Christ and appropriate reverence is necessary within the parish walls to enable that contemplation. However, we must exercise virtue to creating and maintaining that reverence.

Nicholas

This was originally drafted in November 2008 and is being posted for the one year anniversary of my return to the United States from Iraq:

It was the night of October 27th in Kuwait when the ordeal of re-deploying to the United States began. As we cleared out of our tents and waited for the buses and the box truck to come, there was an undeniable excitement in the air. Everyone knew that, after a long year away from family and friends, we were, at last, in the final hours. Even the hour delay in the buses’ arrival could not dampen our spirits.

Once on board the buses with our bags loaded on the accompanying truck, we were taken to a nearby airbase where we would endure the challenges of US customs and await our flight. It was o’dark thirty when we arrived at the airbase and were manifested for our flight. After manifesting came the much spoken of, and much dreaded, customs process. Believe me, if you had to deal with US Navy Customs in Kuwait, you would *never* complain about commercial airport security again. The process lasted several hours, as each one of us had to empty (read dump) all of our bags, have each item inspected by Customs, re-pack our bags, and go through multiple personnel screening points. By the time everyone had cleared Customs, it was morning. As we suspected, no one was to sleep that night.

Then came news that would send a dozen of us on an extra adventure: Our flight was 5000 pounds overweight and volunteers were needed to stay in Kuwait a few days extra. Of course, I was among the first to volunteer. Part of it was that I am single without children. The other part was the knowledge that the stay-backs would depart on November 1st, earning an extra month of income tax exemption and combat pay. While the others crashed in the holding area, strewn across uncomfortable airport-style bench seating, we twelve undertook the task of preparing for our extra stay (tent space, reservations for the next flight home, administrative paperwork, etc). Finally, around 1400 (KST) on the 28th, I crashed on my newly acquired bunk bed until evening.

After four days of little more than reading “Foreign Affairs” and surfing the web, my day finally came. My 11 fellow stay-backs and I reported on the morning of November 1st for our flight. By mid-morning we were in the holding area, ironically known as the “Freedom Tent” area, which resembles a detention camp more than a place of sanctuary. It was there we remained until late evening, when we were finally transported to our jet. As we boarded the World Airways DC-10, I could not help but feel a great weight lifted from my shoulders.

Shortly after boarding, our jet departed for the United States, the Kuwait City skyline growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Our flight lasted roughly 15 hours, with refueling stops in Germany and Maine, before reaching our final destination of McGuire AFB, NJ. Upon landing in Bangor, Maine we were each greeted by a WWII veteran, who came to the airport in the wee hours of a Sunday morning to show his appreciation to a new generation of combat veterans. Everything seemed surreal. That sentiment remained when we landed in New Jersey. As I stepped off the aircraft for the final time (a relief in itself), the first thing my senses perceived was the intense smell of fallen leaves, a smell I had sorely missed. That scent, combined with the brisk New Jersey air reinforced the reality of being home. It would not be until 0200 on the 3rd of November that I finally arrived at Ft. Riley, KS where my mother eagerly awaited her only son. But that did not matter; I was on American soil.

As I pondered the events of re-deploying, I began to think that the whole ordeal was a foretaste of Purgatory. It was a tedious, painful process that none of us really wanted to subject ourselves to. But, despite the pain of the process, we were all joyful. We were joyful because we knew what awaited us on the other side. We knew that, after what seemed like a lifetime of triumphs and trials (more trials than triumphs), we would finally be at rest with our families and friends. We would finally be home, and that made it worth any amount of pain.

Nicholas